The ship had no gym, so Sylvi had been forced to improvise.  A bit of bondage gear, a welding torch, and some water jugs, and she had her own personal weight lifting station.  The rules were simple.  The viewers had to donate to add weight in the form of water to the jugs.  The largest donation got to pick her clothes from a short list for the next session.<br/><br/>With a steaming cup in one hand and dressed in shorts so tight and small they nearly qualified as a thong, and an undersized sports bra that she threatened to spill out of, Sylvi arrived at the work-out station that she had built in a quiet corner of the ship.  It was a chair with a small ridge running along the center.  A backboard.  A pair of ankle manacles to keep her legs apart.  Finally it had a pair of paddles slightly back from the backboard, each with a wrist manacle on it.  They had to be pushed forward until they touched, the resistance determined by a pair of jugs hidden behind the machine.<br/><br/>The manacles would only release once she had done a full set.  If she took too long, the viewers could donate to activate the vibrator attached to the chair.  It was one of her higher grossing shows, mostly because of the viewer participation.<br/><br/>"I'm disappointed!"  She pouted to the half-dozen cameras as she inspected the jugs.  "Only two thirds of last time.  Don't tell me you're all getting bored of me already."  She gave another pout, then placed her cup to the side and strapped herself in.  A small camera robot, partially controlled by donations, fastened the final manacle.<br/><br/><br/><br/>At eight Sylvi arrived for breakfast.  She was freshly showered and wearing a slightly more reasonably sized set of shorts and a sports-bra.  She had another cup in hand, freshly filled, and a com device in her other hand that she was using to go through her schedule, reply to messages, and generally interact with her fanbase.<br/><br/>