Princess Daisy Shroom

Princess Daisy was a tomboy. Despite the traditional femininity that her royal role held as a standard, she preferred the more masculine pursuits. Not that she thought any less of those of her peers that enjoyed those domestic pursuits. It was more so that she just couldn’t understand the underlying motivation of of someone who would rather clean their house (or palace in her case) than kick a ball.

So it should be no surprise that this sunny afternoon found her stretching on the royal soccer field. Princess Daisy had commissioned the construction of the stadium that housed this field as a means of attracting sports fans and their currency to her nation. It also served as her personal exercise retreat for when she tired of dealing with the politics of the court. A princess was entitled to be selfish occasionally after all.

After finishing her stretches, she started with a light jog around the perimeter of the field. Her normal routine was to do a couple laps before taking to the field proper with a ball to practice her dribbling and shots. She was halfway through her first lap when she noticed something peculiar: a pink mushroom growing where it should not.

She paid her groundskeepers quite well, and she expected them to do their jobs well as a result. How had they missed this blight on her perfect field? This was Sarasaland, not the Mushroom Kingdom, for goodness’ sake.

Princess Daisy bent over and inspected the offending mushroom. She couldn’t quite say if she had ever seen its like before; it didn’t match any she had seen while traveling abroad, and it didn’t look local either. Yet it had a certain familiarity to it. Its pink spots on a purple facade were quite out of place with the fresh greens of the grass in which it grew, and that contrast called to mind something, something she felt like she should know but was just out of reach.

Hmph. Well. Regardless, it wouldn’t do to leave it polluting her precious field. If her groundskeepers weren’t going to do their job, she’d have to do it herself (and give them a proper reprimand later). She bent down and, in one fell swoop, plucked the shroom out of the ground.

It came out easily. The bulb fit into the palm of her hand while the stalk dangled out limply. The mushroom had a bumpy texture, which was not unpleasant in its feel as her hand pressed against it. As she brought it to her face, she could also detect a strong aroma: earthy, but sweet somehow. Like a candy almost.

Before she knew it, Daisy took it a step further and took a bite. It was a subconscious action, her body moving on its own in a momentary fit of rebellion. But after she regained control, she found that the just as sweet as it smelled taste prompted another bite of her own volition. And then another. And before she knew it, she had devoured the entire shroom.

“My,” she said to herself. “Ah.” She found it hard to put to words what she was experiencing. But then a sudden clarity fell over her. Why was she thinking about some stupid mushroom? No matter how nice it had been, she was here to exercise, to be the tomboy that she truly was, no excuses.

Princess Daisy resumed her jog around the soccer field. But as soon as she took a single step she noticed something was wrong, very, incredibly wrong. Why was she wearing clothes?!?

It took her a second to fully comprehend that insanity. Unlike Princess Peach and Princess Rosalina, she never wore clothes. They were so restrictive, and unnecessarily so. Really they only existed because a long time ago some men were prudes. Princess Daisy had no need of them, and not their outdated gender norms either.

She quickly shucked off her pants and shirt, and then her sports bra and panties as well, leaving herself bare to the world. Just as she should be. A real tomboy didn’t let the tradition influence her present. She lived her true life the way she wanted to, and getting proper exercise free of the restrictive bounds of clothing was practically the most important facet of that.

Bare to the world, Princess Daisy continued her jog. Her breasts swung freely this way and that as she practically leapt across the field. Unrestrained, the quite large orbs had a habit of dragging her to the left and right with their weight, but she paid it no mind. It was unquestionably better this way, and the meaty sound of her funbags thwacking into each other was music to her tomboyish ears.

After she had completed a lap in this manner, she remembered another important factor of her tomboy lifestyle. It was really quite startling that she had forgotten, but perhaps too much politics had clouded her mind and the jog was what she needed to quite literally jog her mind. Anyhow, she quickly got down on all fours and then bent her body so that her juicy rear arched up and her head touched the ground.

Princess Daisy then proceeded to smack her thick butt repeatedly. “Ooh. Yes. Take that.” The light pain felt divine, and more importantly, she was making sure that her ass was sufficiently marked. Unlike the other chaste princesses, she was a tomboy, and as such she had to make sure that anyone who saw her knew that her ass was preeminently slappable. After all, it was her favorite part of being a tomboy, the fact that she wasn’t burdened by the expectations of society and could have her ass slapped any time she wanted to. The hand-prints on her asscheeks that were quickly forming would serve as a welcome sign to her subjects, practically shouting to the sky, “Here’s your tomboy princess. Clap these cheeks to your heart’s content!”

While she was slapping her own ass, she also made sure to start eating the grass. The ass-up, head-down made it easy for her to eat her favorite meal. Stuck-up princesses tended to eat cake or the like, but she went her own way. There was nothing more boy-like than eating the fruits of the earth, or the vegetation in this case.

When she found herself full, and when her throbbing ass bore her full hand-print on its flushed surface, she got up and had a revelation. All this? It wasn’t even close to being good enough as a tomboy princess. She had been so selfish doing this by herself. She needed to do this for her subjects as well.

A day later found the shy-gal soccer team assembled before the princess.

They had questioned her about her lack of dress, but those questions all went away when Princess Daisy sneezed. Instead of the normal particulate, she breathed out a cloud of spores that the shy-gals all ingested (their masks providing little actual protection due to the rather large holes in them).

The shy-gals were quick to understand after that what their tomboy princess was after.

“Oi, princess. How dare you?” One of the more aggressive shy-gals closed the distance between herself and the princess. When she was standing in front of her, she reached out with her red sleeved arm and started mauling the princess’ tits. “Parading around with these honkers. How are any of us supposed to concentrate on practice with these in our faces?”

Princess Daisy feigned ignorance. “Hmm? I don’t quite understand. Just because I’m an irresistible piece of feminine fuckmeat, I don’t see how that should impact you.”

“Yeah? I’m liable to get confused with which ball’s the real one. Your boobs are practically the same size as a soccer ball.”

Another shy-gal joined them. “She’s right, princess.” A long tongue slipped out of the shy-gal’s mask, dripping with salivation. “With boobs like that, they’re practically made for dribbling.” The second shy-gal leaned over and let her drool drop onto the valley made by Princess Daisy’s tits.

A third shy-gal snuck around and slapped the princess’ rear, eliciting a moan from the ganged-upon royal. “So soft. I’d have thought your ass would be firmer, princess.”

“I-” Before Daisy could explain that just because she was a tomboy, it didn’t mean she lacked certain feminine, she was assaulted by a fourth shy-gal. This shy-gal has disrobed, revealing beneath her red attire that the subject was no less busy than Princess Daisy.

What was more immediately concerning however was the thick, pulsing, mushroom like protuberance at the shy-gal’s crotch. It was purple and pink, and oddly reminiscent of the shroom Princess Daisy had eaten the previous day.

“Fuck,” the shy-gal said as she face-fucked her princess. “Your throat, it’s so tight.” She leaned down and passed her hand through the princess’ chestnut locks. “This is a much better use for your mouth, don’t you think?”

Princess Daisy did her best to answer, but the mushroom-cock in her throat prohibited anything more than groans. She thought her agreement got through anyways. It was a much better use for her mouth. A real tomboy didn’t have need for words, only action. And what better action than being used like a sex-doll to pleasure her subjects.

Of course, as a royal, her thoughts didn’t end there. She was always thinking about how best to serve her subjects. She wanted to share her viewpoint with as many subjects as she could, teaching them the ways of the tomboy. Why she could even make a sport out of it. Competitive dick-sucking, to see who could make the attendees cum the most times in a minute. She was sure her subjects would enjoy seeing herself and her fellow competitors getting the best exercise they could.