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Random captions whenever I get a wild hair to make them. No schedule or consistent pattern.

"Can I please, please stop?" Daisy begged by text.

"No, you haven't reached your goal."

She read her ex-boyfriend's reply and swore. She made the mistake of trusting him after the breakup, so certain he had enough maturity that his help finding a new training program would come with no strings attached.

She should have read the contract before signing. It went for pages, like all terms and conditions nowadays, and she thought too little of what the garble could mean until they locked her in. Now she sat on one bench of the rest room. Wearing the same soaking wet tanktop, tight yoga pants, and running shoes she arrived in three weeks ago. With all the sweating she did, her body never had a chance to accumulate oils or grimes, but boy did she reek from it musking her armpits and drying on her skin.

She tasted it too. Grabbing her toothbrush from behind her, she dipped it into her cleavage and popped it into her mouth. Her diet of endless protein shakes loaded with an extra special form of protein (hint: it was cum) didn't warrant much more.

Her poor excuse for a towel lay at her foot. It didn't really do much except mock her with the idea of at least wiping down.

Daisy switched to her FeelDaBurn app. Locked out of anything else by parental controls, she scrolled through messages of encouragement.

"Dat ass is lookin nice and tight!" one said.

"Work on your tits more," said another, disposing of any pretense.

"Bet you'll fuck like an animal after this!"

Getting that kind of support from her best friend hit her hard, for reminding how easily her ex convinced everyone she wanted this. Cameras everywhere streamed her progress for her friends, neighbors, coworkers, anyone who had the link to watch. They had another purpose: tips and polls. Anyone taking part in the app could suggest what she did, and she had to do it.

When she read what people voted on, at a whopping 89% of 161 votes, Daisy nearly threw her phone. "Kegels AGAIN?!"

Muttering, she stuffed her toothbrush back between her breasts and sat on the floor. She laid back. Aiming her crotch to the nearest camera, she spread her legs, lifted her hips and contracted her pelvic floor muscles. She held. Breathing deeply. Then she lowered and repeated... until the fifth cycle. As soon as she hit that, the weight in her pussy jangled with its loud whine.

"WARNING. WARNING. Motion incomplete."

"FUCK!" she shouted. The weight whirred away inside her, as she pushed herself to rise back up for its satisfaction. It felt like a jackhammer blasting at her cunt. It pushed her along the slick floor, making her job harder. "This was supposed to be for a marathon!"

Cumming in her pants, she simply gave up and flopped out. The stain spread across her crotch. Her phone chimed from the bench, undoubtedly another admonishment of her failure to meet her goals and the loss of another day to this madness. Rolling onto her stomach, she tried to stand when pads shocked her nipples, shooting a surge through her chest that at once ached and pleasured her. Instantly, she dropped and grabbed her twin peaks.

"Incorrect procedure," her kegel weight announced.

She got it. Going back to all fours, she crawled to her bottle and squirted a nice hot jet of spunk down her throat. Doubtful it all came from her ex. Probably donations from her watchers. Or unused supply from a sperm bank. Or a number of things she imagined. What mattered was she had to drink it.

This was hell enough. She couldn't imagine getting through the next two months of same.

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