Chapters:
One
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Scott kept Alyona in hospital for the rest of the week as her newly-upsized tits healed up. For much of that time, Alyona was tied to the bed, unable to move. She was rarely covered, and she got used to being unable to prevent the doctors and nurses from seeing her nude body.
Scott raped her once or twice a day, every day, during this period. When he used her pussy, he made her beg him for the rape, and then forced her to chant, “I’m nothing but a cunt, I deserve to be raped,” as he fucked her.
On other times, he used her mouth, turning her head towards the edge of the bed and forcing his cock between her lips. She hated this, as unlike her traitorous cunt – which seemed to welcome Scott’s cock by being wet and ready to be raped – her mouth gained no inherent pleasure from this act. When he ejaculated into her mouth, her senses told her that his sperm was disgusting and repellent – and yet as soon as it hit her tongue, her implants released their addictive drug, which made her feel like she had never been happier than she was right now with a mouthful of semen.
On the last day, he stopped using her, and let her go a whole day without sex. By evening, when it had been almost 24 hours without an injection of male cum, she was beginning to experience the withdrawal effects. Her mood was low – she felt sad, and useless, and certain in the knowledge that she needed a man to cum in her to fix it. Her cunt itched, and she wished her hands were free so that she could masturbate. Her boobs felt swollen, sensitive and sore.
She was determined not to admit these things, though, and managed to act as though she was not craving cock until Scott finally told her that her time in the hospital was done and that she was going home.
He drove her home, and she sat in the front passenger seat. But they had barely pulled out of the hospital parking lot when Scott adjusted his pants, and extracted his cock from his pants. It was rock hard – and as soon as it came into view, Alyona couldn’t take her eyes off it.
Scott smiled, and said nothing.
Alyona could *smell* it – could smell his pre-cum on the tip – and although part of her was disgusted, another, larger, part of her became *hungry*. She could feel how good his cock would feel in her mouth – a warm, pulsing presence pushing against the inside of her cheeks; a soft, throbbing shaft to run her tongue over. And she could *taste* his cum, and knew it would taste better than anything she had ever had.
She stared at his cock, and stared – and then she began to lean forward.
“Oh, do you want to taste it, princess?” said Scott. “If you want to taste it, you know what to say. And then take your clothes off. You need to be naked to suck it.”
Alyona blushed, and turned away, pretending she hadn’t been looking – but within three minutes she was looking at it again.
She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t think of anything else.
“I’m nothing but a cunt,” she whispered. “I deserve to be raped.”
And then she pulled her loose T-shirt over her head, and removed her skirt and panties. It was difficult, in a moving car, but she managed. She didn’t yet have any bras big enough for her new giant fuckbags, so she was now completely nude. She undid her seatbelt and leaned down to put her head in Scott’s lap.
With a deep sigh of happiness, she took his cock into her mouth.
She knew that this wasn’t her – a nude big-titted bimbo, sucking a man’s cock in a moving car. It was obscene. And yet the addictive drugs were doing their work. She needed cum inside her. It was the only thing that would make her happy.
She happily suckled on Scott’s cock as he drove.
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Scott left Alyona at her apartment, and for the first time in a week Alyona was truly alone.
When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognise herself. The huge-titted woman staring back at her didn’t look like a tennis player. She looked like a porn star.
She called up her casual girlfriend, Maria, and invited her over. She didn’t need to explain where she’d been for a week – travel was a regular part of her job – but her new giant fuckbags were harder to justify.
Luckily for Alyona, Maria loved her new tits.
“Don’t tell me you got these for me?” she said. “That would be insane. But if so – they’re amazing. God, I want to touch them – to lick them. They make you look so hot.”
Maria’s words made Alyona blush. Is this what everyone would think – that she looked better with giant porn star sex-melons? Had she been comparatively ugly, until Scott had given her these new fake udders?
She did, indeed, let Maria touch her breasts – and lick them – and then lick her in other places. They spent a night of passionate sex, in which Alyona tried to fuck away the humiliation and violation of the last week.
But while Maria was a skilled lover, and she did indeed bring Alyona to several orgasms, Alyona realised with despair that none of them were as satisfying as being raped by Scott. Orgasming without cum inside her felt… wrong. Empty. The rush of endorphins from her implants that she had become accustomed to simply wasn’t there.
And to her shame, as she humped her pussy against Maria’s thigh for her third orgasm of the night, she found her mind drifting to the feeling of being raped – the sensation of Scott’s cock penetrating her – of how it felt to have Scott’s dick in her mouth – and the taste of his cum…
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Days were spent in tennis training with Scott.
He had taken the initiative in purchasing her a new training outfit, which would fit her new, larger boobs. It was little more than a lycra bra and briefs, really – suitable as gym wear, although she couldn’t help but feel that her new breasts made them look lewd.
She was distressed to find that even with a tight sports bra of this sort, her new tits bounced around far more than she was used to. The extra weight moving on her chest made her almost lose her balance several times, and the bouncing was a little painful.
In addition, she found that the briefs absorbed sweat quickly, and almost immediately began to cling to every curve of her body. Her buttocks were clearly defined, and the fabric at the groin pressed so tightly against her that the full shape of her pussy mound was obvious through the briefs.
“This outfit is a little embarrassing, Scott,” she said, after a while. “Can we try another one?”
“I’ve got several outfits for you,” said Scott. “But they’re all substantially similar. Stop worrying about your clothes, and concentrate on your tennis.”
And the tennis workouts were thorough, and intense. They left Alona drenched in sweat, but at the end she really felt like her game was improving – or, at least, she was re-learning to play with her former skill despite the distraction of her new, larger tits jiggling around with every movement.
Scott videoed all her practice sessions. He also filmed her changing in and out of her exercise-wear, which made her blush – but, after all, he had seen her in far more intimate detail at the hospital.
And at the end of training, there would always be an expectant pause.
At first Alyona had thought that Scott might just rape her during practice. But he showed no sign of doing so, and at the end of her first practice session her cunt was itching and her tits were aching and she began to panic at the thought that she wouldn’t get what she needed.
“Would you… would you like to fuck me?” she asked, hesitantly, as they stood there on the private tennis court.
“Is that how you ask, slut?” he replied.
She blushed. She knew what he wanted.
“I’m nothing but a cunt,” she said. “I deserve to be raped.” And then she turned around, and pulled down her briefs to expose her cunt and ass, and placed on her hands on a bench by the side of the court so that her ass was pointed at Scott.
“Please fuck me, sir,” she begged.
He did – and he filmed that, too, complete with Alyona’s ritual chanting that she was a cunt who deserved to be raped. And when he ejaculated into her pussy, Alyona almost collapsed with relief as she felt the chemical happiness she had become addicted to rushing into her.
“Remember, to play in Etrebor you’re going to have to convince them that you’ve undergone a complete transformation,” Scott told her as she sat on the benches afterwards, breathing heavily, trying to recover from her orgasm. “You’re going to have to convince them that the bitchy lesbian Alyona is gone, and there’s nothing left but a cock-addicted slut.”
To this end he gave her homework. He would assign her horrible, misogynistic lectures to watch, about how women weren’t really human, about how rape should be normal, about how women’s biological destiny was to serve cock and make babies. And then the next day he would quiz her on them, testing her comprehension and memory. If she got questions wrong he would have her sit naked on his lap, with her legs spread, and he would spank her pussy with his hand until she was on the verge of tears.
Each day she started training by promising herself that she was going to control herself and not beg for Scott’s cock, and each day by the time training was over she was ready to break her promise and do anything to have his dick inside her.
He made her degrade herself a little further each time she asked. Her ritual of begging would always include that she was a cunt who deserved to be raped, but he would ask her to add more, and Alyona would have to imagine new things to say.
“I love being raped,” she would whimper. “With tits like these, sex is the only thing I’m good for.”
He made her train under sluttier conditions, too. Each day at training, there would be a new variation for her to try. He made her play topless, her boobs flopping around, completely unrestrained. Then he made her play without her briefs, naked below the waist, which really wasn’t any harder than normal training except for being distracting and embarrassing.
He started making her masturbate before training, so that she was playing aroused, and told her that from now on she would *only* train when her cunt was wet. On the next day, he made her play with a buzzing dildo lodged in her twat, held in place by her briefs, and she orgasmed humiliatingly in mid-serve.
He made her play with weights hanging from nipple clamps on her exposed tits – which was agonising – and then with a weight hanging from a clitoris clamp – which hurt even more. He made her play with a ball gag in her mouth. And then he made her play with her hands cuffed behind her back, and a smaller modified tennis racquet hanging from her tits by clamps. She was forced to swing her tits around wildly to try and bring the racquet into contact with the ball, and it hurt more than anything she’d ever experienced in her life. Plus she was rubbish at it, and very rarely managed to hit the ball at all, let alone return it over the net.
She was in tears after that last one, but Scott said, “If Etrebor had their way, that’s how all women would play tennis, so it’s best you’ve at least given it a try.”
Then he masturbated over her weeping, naked body until he ejaculated, and made her lick his cum up off the tennis court’s clay surface.
And all these degradations and abuses and humiliations were filmed.
===
It was on a Sunday night that Alyona experienced her next violation.
She had met Maria in town for dinner, but Maria had work the next day and so had passed on coming back to Alyona’s apartment.
Alyona was walking back to her car, in a darkened car park, when she suddenly felt a gloved hand over her mouth, and an arm around her waist, dragging her backwards. She tried to scream, but the hand just pushed further into her mouth, and suddenly she was in the back of a van, and the doors were closing.
Her attacker was a young man in a balaclava, and he had a gun.
“Do not raise your voice, or it will go badly for you,” he told her. “But I don’t imagine you want to. After all, I’m making your fantasies come true.”
“What… what do you mean?” asked Alyona.
“Shut up, slut,” said the man, and slapped her across the face. Then he proceeded to cut her clothes off her with a knife.
Alyona thought about struggling, but she was terrified that the man would hurt her, so she submissively complied with his instructions.
When she was naked, he slapped her again, and then lifted her over a crate in the back of the van, so that she was on all fours, and then he knelt behind her and began to rape her.
He sighed happily as he pushed his cock into her wet cunt – and of course, she *was* wet. Her body sensed her violation coming, and reacted with enthusiasm.
“I knew you’d be wet for this,” he told her. “Just like your videos.”
Her whole body shuddered with revulsion at the feeling of being raped by a man – and not even by Scott, but some anonymous person whose name she didn’t even know. She was still a lesbian – not naturally attracted to cocks – and the violation of her pussy by a man’s dick made her squirm with horror.
And yet she couldn’t deny her wetness – or the growing sense of eagerness she felt as he began to pump in and out of her. Soon he would cum inside her – and she knew how happy that would make her feel.
“Do it like you do in your videos,” he said. “Do the chant.”
She didn’t know what he meant by “her videos” – but she knew the chant. At this point it felt strange to *not* being saying the words while a man was using her.
“I’m nothing but a cunt,” she whispered. “I deserve to be raped.”
And before long her rapist was cumming – and Alyona found herself orgasming right along with him. His semen flooded her womb, and with it came the delightful euphoric feeling released by her implants.
And she knew with humiliating certainty that no lesbian sex she had ever experienced – and for that matter, no orgasm derived from her own masturbation – had ever been as pleasurable or satisfying as being raped in the back of a van by an anonymous man.
When he was done she asked again, “What did you mean about my videos?”
He took out his phone and showed her. It was a lewd models site, where people could pay subscriptions to see sexy photos of beautiful women – but the account he was pointing to was free, its contents available to the general public.
The account was titled “Alyona the Tennis Slut”, and it had a picture of her in the profile. And below it were videos – dozens of videos.
“I love this one,” he said, and opened a video. It was Alyona, topless, hands cuffed to her waists, trying to swing the tennis racquet that was chained to her tits around. She was crying in the video – but also visibly sexually aroused.
“Or this one,” he said, and now it was Alyona on her knees at the tennis court.
“I’m such a stupid big-uddered whore,” said the Alyona in the video. “Please rape me. I need to be raped.”
Alyona had said those words to Scott only two days ago. And he had filmed them.
Filmed them, and then posted them on this site.
“I really love your site,” said her rapist. “The way you beg to be raped is so hot. And those giant whore fuckmelons you have – they’re so sexy.”
Alyona barely heard him. She was staring in horror at the follower statistics. If they were to be believed, over 500,000 people were subscribed to “Alyona the Tennis Slut” – able to view all the degrading footage of her tennis practice and her sex with Scott.
“Oh yeah,” said her rapist, noticing her interest. “You’re pretty popular. I heard about it in the news.”
He closed the site and navigated to a news headline from a couple of days ago.
“TENNIS STAR BECOMES TENNIS SLUT,” it read, and below it continued, “Beautiful teen prodigy opens lewd sex site to show off her new plastic funbags.”
“It’s all over the tennis news sites,” he told her. “I think just about every guy who’s a tennis fan has seen it, and maybe gone and had a look.”
Everyone. All her fans. Everyone in the tennis world. Everyone who would be in the stands at any game she ever played in the future. They had seen her begging to be raped. They had seen her jiggling her naked tits. They had watched her lick up cum from the tennis court surface.
She felt like she might pass out.
“Don’t worry,” said her rapist. “You can go now. I’ve had my fun. You clearly aren’t going to complain. After all, you asked for it. So many times. And it’s all on video.”
He was right. Alyona certainly wasn’t going to explain to police how she had been asking Scott to rape her in those videos, rather than the general public. She wasn’t going to explain what she meant by the words “I am a cunt, and I deserve to be raped”. Her attacker was safe.
He opened the van doors, and she staggered out.
“Oh, hey,” said her attacker, as she slowly walked, nude, to her car, “a bit of advice for next time.”
“Next time?” she asked.
“You know, the next time a guy sees the video of you begging to be raped and takes you up on it,” said her attacker. “I figure if I did, other guys will too. Maybe try and struggle a bit more – not seriously, but enough to be a bit of fun. I think that would make you hotter.”
And with that, he closed the van doors, and went around to the driver’s seat, to drive away.
The next time.
Alyona realised he was right. If she had been raped once, she would probably be raped again – and again – and again.
And the thought made her horrified and sick – but she wished it didn’t also make her pussy throb in delight, eager for the thought of all that wonderful cum, and how good it would feel to have her rapists fill her up with their sperm…
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