Captain Zim
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 21
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 21 - David Zimmerman is your average high school junior, a bookish sort with average everything — except athletic ability. He can't throw or hit, swims like a turtle and has wimpy muscles. He was chosen last for every sport in elementary school — when he was chosen at all. His life changed when he kicked a field goal squarely between the uprights, then it changed again the next time he was in a ball game
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Fiction
She led me back out; this time there was a crowd at the sand venue. Tasha took me by the arm. “Piece of cake, Zim.” She waved at the opposite side. “You go over there, serve the ball. Regular game, except you don’t move. You stay server. Okay?” I nodded and took my spot.
The ball came to me, and I looked across the net. Twelve serious young people, some in their late teens, mostly in their twenties. No one else near my age. The woman playing closest to me was back from the net; for a second I wondered if Tasha had set a trap; then decided the hell with it. I soft served it, no English.
She actually got a hand on the ball; hitting it right back to me ... under the net. Next I saw a spot on their left side, between the net and the middle row that was a little large. I served it with the weird English that caused the ball to change directions. No one touched it.
I served to the right rear; the guy there hit it up, someone else spiked it, to be dug out by a woman on my side of the net, then someone else set it, and Tasha drilled it. I saw the woman I’d served to the first time was back from the net again; I looked at her, smiled ... she frowned, and I hit the ball to the left side, behind the first-rank player.
She saw she couldn’t get it, moved aside, and someone from the second line tried to set it; barely got a hand on it, and the ball went into the sand.
I served it to the woman on the right front; this time with no pause; instant shot. She glared at me, then flipped me a bird when it plopped in front of her, untouched.
I contemplated Phil for a second, waiting for the ball to come back. Could someone play at this level with a temper like Phil’s? I didn’t think so. So, she’s challenging me.
The woman was about twenty-five, solidly built, light brown hair. A lot of freckles on her face, on her chest above the top of her T-shirt. Maybe a closet redhead? I smiled, then remembered poker, looked right at her, let the smile show.
I served it to her again, only this time a little further back, halfway between her and the guy next to her in the front rank. They nearly collided; in avoiding the collision, the ball thumped the ground between them.
“I’m going to break every bone in your fuckin’ body,” the woman said loudly. “Then I’m going to shit on you. Make you eat it!” Gosh, she even sounded like Phil! Then I laughed at myself; no, that had been Toni!
I saw Tasha, up front, shake her head a little. She’s telling me to back off. Who am I, David Zimmerman, to challenge a woman in her twenties, a woman who’s on the US fuckin’ Olympic Volleyball team! I was crazy!
I smiled at the woman, then looked at the back row, then down to the front. Served it a little harder, a little to the outside, close to the line. She turned, hit the ball up; it arched across the net, and an easy set ... a spike that no one was able to stop.
Her face was red, she saw my eyes on her; she flipped me a bird. I grinned, did another quick serve ... long and to the left. The defender misjudged the ball, ended up with a decent soccer kick, back our way, an inch above the sand.
I got the ball back, and I started thinking again. James Walker spoke up. “Time out!”
Someone else, off to the side, spoke loudly. “One minute time out!”
I took a breath, realized that I was wound up tight as a spring. I sagged back, letting the tension run out of my body.
“Some of you are by now, thinking, ‘those g’damn coaches! Running a ringer through tryouts!’ James Walker said.
“The coaches went to play a little challenge game yesterday; I have to hand it to you guys on the team. You are focused, really focused. You were so happy to have a day off that you weren’t curious at all where the coaches and trainers were. Not one of you tuned to the local channel because they had some scenes from the challenge.” He waved at me. “Oh, I’m happy to say our coaches went 2 and oh, yesterday. Oh, yeah, I suppose I should mention that the two games were 21 to 19 and 22 to 20 against scratch teenagers from down the Keys.”
He waved at me. “There he is, the guy who put it together. Contemplate the last time you got close to the coaches, eh?”
He waved at the woman on the other front line. “And you, Stamp.” James Walker walked over to the woman on the right front. “Got your goat, didn’t he?”
She glared at him. “So you went and mouthed off; made a few obscene gestures; like, this is a tryout, we all know that. Regular rules don’t apply.” He laughed. “Julie, the honors.”
Julie simply turned, lifted a five-gallon water cooler over her head, dumped it on the girl. Ice and something orange gushed over her; she stood obviously a fraction from losing it altogether.
He lifted his head. “Ten-second warning.” Chris fired the ball at me, I fielded it, turned to face the other side; James Walker after a second said, “Play!”
I contemplated the faces in front of me. A lot of intent gazes; a lot of the expressions were unreadable. Okay, now what, hero? I couldn’t help it; my eyes went to the hapless woman at the right front. There was now a mound of ice on the sand in front of her, between her and the net. I bet, I thought to myself, that will be uncomfortable to step on.
I soft-served again, just a fraction past the net. She took a step forward, hit the ice. I saw it then in her eyes. She was up like a streak, smacked the ball down on our side of the net, really hard.
And someone was there to dig it out, two sets, a spike back to the other side of the net, back again; this time, I thought, deliberately to me. I hit it like I knew I should, going down, digging.
I almost laughed. It wasn’t as bad as earlier in the day, when I’d taken the ball straight into the chin; instead, it had come up ... just ticking the end of my nose. Tasha got it, slammed it across the net; to my surprise, one of their back row dug it out, and someone slammed it at me. I realized it was long, twisted, and turned so that it went by me, out of bounds.
Five more serves I had before they finally broke my serve. I’d stopped shooting at the woman in front, had gone back to the field. We broke their serve the first time, and everyone shifted on my side, except me. I ran off five more straight aces before they got one past us.
“That’s it; hit the showers,” James said.
Tasha caught my eye, shook her head. Okay, no shower, even though I was sweating like an elephant in heat. So, I realized, was everyone else. “Zim, if you would,” James said mildly. I followed him, along with Tasha, Chris, and Julie, back into the building.
James pointed to a chair in an office. “Have a seat. Read something; we’ll be a few minutes.”
The rest of them went into the office. Instead of sitting, I went to the window, looking out over green lawns, a stretch of coral rock, then the ocean. Well, you did it, Zim. They didn’t rise up in a body and throw your ass out. They didn’t laugh. I’d scored a few points; I’d pissed off a member of the team. Really pissed her off.
I glanced at the closed door. They hadn’t told me to leave, but they were talking. The first was, I thought, good. The second ... a concern. Did I want this? I laughed, shaking my head. Oh yeah!
What would I give up to go to the Olympics? It’s 2003, a year; I thought. A year from now, I could be wherever the hell they were holding the next summer Olympics. Me, David Zimmerman. Could I give up Diane for it? Would I give up Diane for that? I sighed. Diane has given me up. CC? My family? No, not that. We’d talked about staying the summer; what would Mom say if I wanted to make that indefinite? What would Dad and CC think?
They would support me, I thought. People like Sean, Duke, Todd ... they’d be pleased. Phil, Kristie ... maybe not. Where would Diane be? My mind flashed on last night with Ginny. I sighed. I’d had sex with a twelve-year-old; I bet not many Olympians did that! What would Tasha think if she found out? Tasha, another enigma. She said she had a boyfriend. What would he think if he found out? Odds were, he was someplace close around. Perhaps I’d already seen him. I sighed. So much to think about...
The door opened, and James Walker motioned me to come in.
“Tell me, Zim.” He said after he sat down. “You’re a high school junior, right?”
“Will be,” I told him, “I’ll be a junior in the fall.”
“Sixteen, though.”
“Yes, sir. My birthday is in May.”
“You understand that the minimum age for the Olympics is 16?”
I shrugged. “Sir, I never, ever thought about it with respect to myself.”
“Well, that’s the limit. You aren’t fudging your age?”
“No, sir.”
“Where do you live?” He asked.
I shook my head. “We are in the process of relocating. I’m not sure I can answer that.”
“Would you be attending the local high school if you were here?” He asked.
Again I shrugged. “Probably.” I took a breath, looked him in the eye. “My sister and I spend most of our time home-schooled. In Detroit, we only went to regular school in the afternoons, three hours a day. Last spring I took the SAT, sir. I had a 1580.”
There was silence in the room, and I looked around. Everyone was looking at me intently.
“We’d like you to play for us. There are, however, a number of hoops you have to jump through first. I warn you, Zim, that these hoops are, in their own way, as important as any test of athletic ability.”
“I understand.”
“There are fees, you have to have a coach, ... all sorts of things.”
“Money will not be an issue, sir.” I told him.
He waved at Julie. “You have an issue with your back; we are of the opinion that this can be remedied with therapy. If you commit to us, we’d expect you to do all that our medical people recommend.”
“Yes, sir,” I said simply.
“Tomorrow at one p.m. Bring your parents; they’ll need to bring their checkbook. We’ll talk more then.”
“Yes, sir.” I felt like I was in a rut, but what else was there to say? It wasn’t likely I was going to tell him ‘no thanks.’
There was a moment of standing, handshakes. Finally I found myself outside again, just Tasha standing next to me. “I did okay?” I asked.
For a second she looked at me, then shrugged. “Zim, you and me ... you know how I feel about you.”
“I feel the same about you,” I told her.
“That said, neither of us is stupid nor brain-dead. Zim, there are things I will know that you will never, ever, find out about. Relax, accept it. Personal relationships are fine ... I’ll get a few raised eyebrows, but no one will care. If I start jabbering about this and that ... I get canned. Not going to happen, Zim.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought...” My voice trailed away.
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