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Daphne’s father had been an Olympic swimmer, and Daphne liked to swim as well. When her father passed away while Daphne was still a teenager, Daphne promised him on his deathbed that she would make the Olympic team, just like he had.
Except Daphne was not naturally designed for swimming. Her lush raven hair and large tits meant she had the body not of an athlete but of a whore. All the enthusiasm and training in the world couldn’t compensate for her naturally enormous tits.
Daphne’s breasts had caused her no end of embarrassment. Their natural shape looked fake. Since she had reached adulthood, she had found people endlessly assumed that she was a plastic bimbo who had had her udders enlarged to attract men. She wished she could conceal her breasts from the world – and yet her chosen career of swimming required her to wear suits that stretched tightly across her oversized fuckbags, putting them on full display.
The breasts were an inherent disadvantage for Daphne in swimming. They were buoyant, dragging her up to the surface and throwing her centre of gravity off-balance. They created drag, requiring more effort to pull her through the water.
In desperation, she reached out to Bryan Sax, the man who had been her father’s Olympic coach.
“Well,” he said, staring at her tits, which he had asked her to expose for a proper examination, “a reduction’s out of the question. Surgically altering your body to increase your ability to swim is cheating, under the Olympic rules. You could make them bigger, I suppose, if you wanted to.”
“Please, no,” said Daphne, blushing. “I just want to make the Olympic team. I made a promise…”
“Well, there’s some folk remedies I know for girls whose tits are too large,” said Sax. “I can’t promise they’ll work, but if you’re desperate. And you’ll need the proper training regime, too. It’s a program I call ‘Incentivised Fitness For Women’.”
“I’ll try anything,” said Daphne. “I swear.”
And so she began Bryan’s program. She almost backed out when she found out some of what was involved – but Bryan must know what he was doing. Her father had trusted him, after all.
Each day started with Daphne receiving a protein supplement. The protein came in the form of semen, and she would suck Bryan’s cock each morning until she felt the sticky nutritional goo fill her mouth. She was surprised she had never heard of the nutritional and fitness benefits of this before, but Bryan told her it was just because most girls weren’t as dedicated to success as her, and weren’t prepared to suck a man’s cock in order to reach peak performance.
Later, there was exercise. Bryan made her do it nude in front of an open window facing the street. “The sooner you complete your reps, the sooner you can cover up, girl,” he told her, and certainly the embarrassment of having strangers stare at her tits and pussy as she stretched and pulled weights was a good incentive not to slack off.
He would have her do planks – like a push-up, except holding the “pushed up” position to increase core strength – and again, she would be naked. Bryan would lie under her, with his erect cock exposed. Each time her arms started to shake, her pussy would lower directly onto his cock, penetrating her pussy lips and filling her fuckhole. If she stopped trying to support herself entirely, she would find herself impaled on Bryan’s phallus, and he would begin vigorously fucking her while telling her what a lazy slut she was. He wouldn’t let her take contraceptives, so she was eager to complete the whole routine before Bryan was able to ejaculate inside her.
Her actual swimming training wasn’t any less humiliating. It took place at the public pool. Bryan made her wear a tiny swimming costume that didn’t fit her. “The Olympic Team doesn’t have costumes big enough for cow udders like yours,” he told her, “so you’ll have to get used to this.” Her breasts would continually fall out into view.
After a while, Bryan told her to stop trying to push her tits back into the costume. Instead, he attached heavy weights to her nipples via clamps. “These will counteract the natural buoyancy of your tits,” he told her, “and give you a more realistic swimming experience.” Dragging the weight from her nipples constantly as she swam hurt intensely, but Bryan knew best.
He also made her swim with a remote-controlled waterproof vibrator inside her. When she was doing well, Bryan would make it buzz. It was intensely distracting and made it hard to think straight, but it did make her want to swim fast, despite the pain in her tits and the humiliation of being exposed, so that Bryan would let it buzz long enough for her to cum. On the few occasions she orgasmed in the middle of the public pool, the shame (once she came to her senses) was overwhelming. Bryan told her it was just the sort of shame she deserved for having such big whore’s tits that made it hard for her to swim, and she knew he was right.
Bryan’s “folk remedies” for her tits were the worst. Every morning, after she drank her protein, he would give her tits a beating with a belt, while making her masturbate and repeat, “I’m a stupid big-titted cunt.” Every noon, after exercise, he would slap her tits repeatedly with his hands, while she again masturbated, this time repeating, “I am a cow-uddered whore and my tits deserve to be in pain.” Every evening, he would place his cock between her breasts, and she would use her breasts to masturbate him to orgasm, while repeating, “I’m a worthless little fucktoy and this is all that I’m good for.” Once he had ejaculated over her breasts and face, she would massage his precious sperm into her bruised fuckmelons, and then lick her fingers clean.
Bryan made it clear that the folk remedies wouldn’t work if Daphne was a slut, or thought slutty thoughts, or if her cunt was wet all the time, but Daphne couldn’t help herself. The mixture of tit pain and pussy stimulation was messing with her head, and she simultaneously feared and looked forward to her next abuse, the need to cum overwhelming her common sense and dignity. And so when three months had passed, and her tits were the same size, she knew it was all her fault for being such a cunt-obsessed whore.
Her swimming times were nowhere near close enough to join the Women’s Olympic Swim Team, and she was in tears when Bryan came to her and said, “Well, you’re a disappointing swimmer, Daphne. But there’s one way you can still keep your promise.”
She looked up at Bryan through tear-filled eyes. Part of her was disappointed that he was talking about the Olympics, and not just telling her to masturbate, which was her favourite thing now. Or maybe he could have hurt her tits – that was almost as good as playing with her pussy. Her brain associated pain in her breasts with pleasure in her cunt intimately now.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, the Olympic rules allow a team to bring along one additional member who’s not competing, as an ‘honorary player’ or a ‘mascot’. The men’s team are unofficially known as the ‘Siren Hunters’, and their logo is a bare-breasted mermaid. I’ve talked to them, and they’re willing to take you to the Olympics as their mascot.”
“But I wouldn’t swim?” asked Daphne.
“No,” said Bryan. “But you’d be an official member of the team, which keeps your promise.”
“What would I do?” asked Daphne.
“Well, you’d appear in public with your tits out – as a ‘siren’, you see. And you’d spend the rest of the time in the men’s accommodation, servicing them.”
“Servicing?” asked Daphne dully.
“Their cocks, honey,” said Bryan. “The Olympic men’s swimming team has 26 men on it, so you’ll be fairly constantly sucking them off or having them fucking your pussy or ass. The Olympics goes for 16 days, and you’ll be fucking all that time. You won’t get much sleep, and sometimes when you *are* asleep, they’ll still be fucking you.”
Daphne whimpered. But her pussy was sopping wet and she wanted to play with it.
“It’ll be intense,” said Bryan. “But you were always training for an intense Olympics experience anyway. You’ll just be doing a different sort of physical activity now.”
He laughed. “Oh, and I told them how you like having your tits hurt, and they’re pretty keen to try that out too.”
Daphne paused. She didn’t know what to do.
“If you say you’ll do it, I’ll let you masturbate right now,” said Bryan.
That settled it. “I’ll do it,” she said, and her hand immediately dove to her pussy to begin rubbing her needy, engorged clit.
“Good girl,” said Bryan. “So now we’re going to move your training to practicing for a different kind of event. You’re going to need to train even harder now than you ever have before…”
And he grabbed a fistful of Daphne’s hair and pulled her face down towards his cock. And Daphne moaned with pleasure, and knew that she was finally competing in the sport that her body had been designed for…