Her nickname at school had been “Fuckballoons”, and the boys had made a game of exposing her giant tits at every opportunity by lifting them out of her bra or ripping open her shirt or just pouring water on her chest so that her huge areolae became visible through the fabric. Her every waking moment at school was centred around her tits – thinking about whether they were exposed or concealed, supporting their weight, feeling humiliation and shame at having such huge, slutty udders. She wasn’t sure how her sexual arousal came to be associated with those feelings, but she remembered the first day, lying at home and trying to masturbate, when she realised she couldn’t get wet unless she was feeling embarrassed and self-conscious about her breasts.
In social gatherings she stopped even trying to cover up, and just let the boys expose her tits at their whim. She started answering to “Fuckballoons” and even introduced herself as that to new people. She got wetter and wetter the more her social group stopped seeing her as a person and started viewing her as a pair of ridiculous sex-melons. Eventually she would moan like a slut when people stared at her bare breasts, and blush both from the attention and from her reaction. She was regularly fucked when she was in this state, but she experienced her first multiple orgasm the first time a boy ejaculated not in her cunt but rather all over her boobs. She lay there shuddering and orgasming again and again as she felt the hot sticky sperm spill over her nipples and run down between her fuckbags.
That was the point where she gave up on normal life. She knew she had made a mistake ever pretending to be a normal girl. She existed for her tits to give sexual pleasure to men. She knew she absolutely had to have that feeling, of her breasts being a cumrag to an anonymous man, again and again, and that nothing else mattered. That was the day that she went into the Office of Births, Deaths and Marriages and had her name finally, officially, changed to “Fuckballoons”.