---------------
Mewtwo (F) vs. Umbreon (M)
Sure, she was a powerful opponent, but it should have been a fair fight with the type advantage.
Should have been.
The Umbreon let out another agonized squeak as an Iron Tail crashed up between his legs, flattening his spunkmakers to a fraction of their usual plumpness. The force of the blow lifted him up onto his toes, the bulk of his body weight resting on the poor, poor orbs between his legs until the female withdrew her tail and let him crumple to the ground.
"Oh god," he moaned, clutching his swollen basket in his paws. He'd given up any chance of winning the match – now the goal was just to survive with his testicles intact. "My balls!"
"Honestly," she asked, sounding almost bored, "you're a male and a Dark-type. Did you think I wouldn't learn Low Kick?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but by then she'd slammed Low Kick #3 into his crotch, and his balls were in his throat again.
Arcanine (F) vs. Houndoom (M)
Her arms were wrapped around him: her bare breasts pressed against his back, one paw running through his chestfur and the other gently encircling his balls. The Houndoom trembled in her embrace, cock twitching with arousal. It could easily have been the hottest moment of his life – if not for the fact that the Arcanine had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to crush his nuts into peanut butter.
“Go ahead,” she had crooned. “I’ll let you finish.”
And so the male was stroking himself off, despite the crowd of thousands watching them both; trying not to think about how this might be his last chance to orgasm. If she decided to squeeze...
But he was close now, oh so close. In a few seconds–...well, in a few seconds he’d probably have a sac full of mush, but if he was lucky, he’d get to blow his load first. One last blast of spunk. Maybe they’d even scrape some up; the Houndoom could still have pups.
His breath grew shallower, his length like a bar of iron in his paw. To his immense relief, the Arcanine withdrew the paw around his balls, pulling at his chest, her breath hot on his ear. To his immense surprise, she slid her paw downwards again, grabbing his cock roughly, beating him off like a woman possessed. That was all it took. His lips parted in an orgasmic cry–
–and her knee slammed into his groin, popping his left nut like a grape.
By the time her knee came up again and turned his other gonad to goo, the poor Houndoom had already passed out. And so he was unable to enjoy it when, a moment later, he finally exploded into his opponent’s paw...and unable to stop it as the Arcanine licked his unborn children off her fingers.
Dragonite (F) vs. Aggron (M)
“Holy shit!” screeched the Aggron.
“Huh? You see?” The Dragonite had her arms folded across her bare breasts, scowling down at the steel-type on the ground beneath her. Her foot was planted firmly on his swollen plums, the twin spheres bulging out beneath her massive weight like a pair of balloons about to pop. “You should be resistant to an attack like Outrage, and yet here you are, squealing like a Tepig from a few stomps to the groin.”
“My nuts–!” the Aggron wailed, clutching at her leg.
“Do you get it? ‘Balls of steel’ aren’t really an advantage because they’re still balls.” She shifted her weight forward for emphasis, her opponent’s testicles somehow flattening even further under the tremendous pressure. “And if you swing them in some girl’s face like that, you can expect them to get stomped!”
“Oh Arceus!” the male shrieked, scrabbling even more frantically at the female’s calf as she bore down on his tortured stones.
“Understood?” the Dragonite asked threateningly.
“Oh please yes please PLEASE–”
The Aggron gasped in sudden relief as the female lifted her foot, his gonads reinflating to some approximation of their usual round shape – only to be crushed once more by a vicious Dragon Tail. The male let out a thin high squeal as her tail came crashing down once, twice, thrice between his legs, each time pounding his manhood to the very edge of rupture.
She paused after four, then shrugged. “One more for good measure.”
It was impossible to hear over the mighty thud of the female’s tail striking the ground, but both combatants felt the tiny pop.
The Dragonite’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise. “You see?” she growled. “Even more fragile than I thought.”
Lopunny (F) vs. Lucario (M)
She was a stunner alright – tall and leggy, exactly what he’d always liked in her species. Awesome tits, too. And the type advantage meant that it would be an easy battle – a chance to rub elbows (and other parts, hopefully) before he knocked her out.
Of course, that was before she’d punted his balls into his throat a dozen times. Now he was beginning to wonder how he had ever found a Lopunny’s legs sexy.
“Please,” the Lucario gasped, but it was no use: yet another Low Kick came slamming into his groin, his gonads squishing between the female’s toes in an attempt to avoid the brutal impact. The male squealed in agony, twitching on the ground as another wave of nausea exploded forth from his spunkmakers.
The steel-type had long ago stopped trying to counter-attack – now he just tried to curl into the fetal position and protect himself from any more ball-breaking blows. But the Lopunny just grabbed him by the ankles, spread his legs wide, and kept kicking.
“Please–!”
“Shut up and take it like a man,” she growled, delivering another kick for emphasis, “while you still can.”
He was already beyond saving. He had to be. And yet it still came as a surprise when it finally happened.
Splut.
The Lucario’s squeal jumped an octave as his right egg burst, its contents utterly scrambled by the force of the female’s kick. The pain in his groin doubled – something he would have thought impossible a moment earlier.
He looked up in time to see the Lopunny grinning, cocking her leg back for another blow.
Thud.
Thud.
Th-splut.
Alakazam (F) vs. Scyther (M)
Thunk. It was such a small, quiet impact that you might have missed it if not for the Scyther’s reaction.
“Fuck!” the male groaned, doubling over as another wave of nutpain echoed through his gut. It was getting worse with each hit – his testicles felt bruised. He spun to knock aside the implement behind him, but the floating spoon was already gone. “You can’t...this isn’t fair!”
“Oh can’t I?” The Alakazam side-stepped as the bug swiped at her, his arm-blades hitting nothing but air. Her spoon floated casually back into her hand. “You seemed to be enjoying it a minute ago.”
“That was...oh...that was different,” he complained, struggling to maintain focus. “You...nngh...nggha...”
The female was sticking her tongue out at him – which was appropriate, given what she was doing to his cock. The Scyther could have sworn someone was sucking him off, but all that surrounded his maleness was a cool blue glow. His legs trembled as the psychic force caressed his member, the pink length throbbing needfully in the open air.
And then her spoon was back, striking his right nut with a thud that sent his ballbag swinging. “Gah! You bitch!” he spat, fighting the urge to crumple to his knees.
Her teasing smile turned into a icy frown. “Well if you wanted me to be mean, you just had to ask.”
Before the male knew what was happening, his legs had been yanked apart by a strong psychic pull, and the Alakazam’s foot was buried in his groin.
Sure, she was a powerful opponent, but it should have been a fair fight with the type advantage.
Should have been.
The Umbreon let out another agonized squeak as an Iron Tail crashed up between his legs, flattening his spunkmakers to a fraction of their usual plumpness. The force of the blow lifted him up onto his toes, the bulk of his body weight resting on the poor, poor orbs between his legs until the female withdrew her tail and let him crumple to the ground.
"Oh god," he moaned, clutching his swollen basket in his paws. He'd given up any chance of winning the match – now the goal was just to survive with his testicles intact. "My balls!"
"Honestly," she asked, sounding almost bored, "you're a male and a Dark-type. Did you think I wouldn't learn Low Kick?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but by then she'd slammed Low Kick #3 into his crotch, and his balls were in his throat again.
Arcanine (F) vs. Houndoom (M)
Her arms were wrapped around him: her bare breasts pressed against his back, one paw running through his chestfur and the other gently encircling his balls. The Houndoom trembled in her embrace, cock twitching with arousal. It could easily have been the hottest moment of his life – if not for the fact that the Arcanine had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to crush his nuts into peanut butter.
“Go ahead,” she had crooned. “I’ll let you finish.”
And so the male was stroking himself off, despite the crowd of thousands watching them both; trying not to think about how this might be his last chance to orgasm. If she decided to squeeze...
But he was close now, oh so close. In a few seconds–...well, in a few seconds he’d probably have a sac full of mush, but if he was lucky, he’d get to blow his load first. One last blast of spunk. Maybe they’d even scrape some up; the Houndoom could still have pups.
His breath grew shallower, his length like a bar of iron in his paw. To his immense relief, the Arcanine withdrew the paw around his balls, pulling at his chest, her breath hot on his ear. To his immense surprise, she slid her paw downwards again, grabbing his cock roughly, beating him off like a woman possessed. That was all it took. His lips parted in an orgasmic cry–
–and her knee slammed into his groin, popping his left nut like a grape.
By the time her knee came up again and turned his other gonad to goo, the poor Houndoom had already passed out. And so he was unable to enjoy it when, a moment later, he finally exploded into his opponent’s paw...and unable to stop it as the Arcanine licked his unborn children off her fingers.
Dragonite (F) vs. Aggron (M)
“Holy shit!” screeched the Aggron.
“Huh? You see?” The Dragonite had her arms folded across her bare breasts, scowling down at the steel-type on the ground beneath her. Her foot was planted firmly on his swollen plums, the twin spheres bulging out beneath her massive weight like a pair of balloons about to pop. “You should be resistant to an attack like Outrage, and yet here you are, squealing like a Tepig from a few stomps to the groin.”
“My nuts–!” the Aggron wailed, clutching at her leg.
“Do you get it? ‘Balls of steel’ aren’t really an advantage because they’re still balls.” She shifted her weight forward for emphasis, her opponent’s testicles somehow flattening even further under the tremendous pressure. “And if you swing them in some girl’s face like that, you can expect them to get stomped!”
“Oh Arceus!” the male shrieked, scrabbling even more frantically at the female’s calf as she bore down on his tortured stones.
“Understood?” the Dragonite asked threateningly.
“Oh please yes please PLEASE–”
The Aggron gasped in sudden relief as the female lifted her foot, his gonads reinflating to some approximation of their usual round shape – only to be crushed once more by a vicious Dragon Tail. The male let out a thin high squeal as her tail came crashing down once, twice, thrice between his legs, each time pounding his manhood to the very edge of rupture.
She paused after four, then shrugged. “One more for good measure.”
It was impossible to hear over the mighty thud of the female’s tail striking the ground, but both combatants felt the tiny pop.
The Dragonite’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise. “You see?” she growled. “Even more fragile than I thought.”
Lopunny (F) vs. Lucario (M)
She was a stunner alright – tall and leggy, exactly what he’d always liked in her species. Awesome tits, too. And the type advantage meant that it would be an easy battle – a chance to rub elbows (and other parts, hopefully) before he knocked her out.
Of course, that was before she’d punted his balls into his throat a dozen times. Now he was beginning to wonder how he had ever found a Lopunny’s legs sexy.
“Please,” the Lucario gasped, but it was no use: yet another Low Kick came slamming into his groin, his gonads squishing between the female’s toes in an attempt to avoid the brutal impact. The male squealed in agony, twitching on the ground as another wave of nausea exploded forth from his spunkmakers.
The steel-type had long ago stopped trying to counter-attack – now he just tried to curl into the fetal position and protect himself from any more ball-breaking blows. But the Lopunny just grabbed him by the ankles, spread his legs wide, and kept kicking.
“Please–!”
“Shut up and take it like a man,” she growled, delivering another kick for emphasis, “while you still can.”
He was already beyond saving. He had to be. And yet it still came as a surprise when it finally happened.
Splut.
The Lucario’s squeal jumped an octave as his right egg burst, its contents utterly scrambled by the force of the female’s kick. The pain in his groin doubled – something he would have thought impossible a moment earlier.
He looked up in time to see the Lopunny grinning, cocking her leg back for another blow.
Thud.
Thud.
Th-splut.
Alakazam (F) vs. Scyther (M)
Thunk. It was such a small, quiet impact that you might have missed it if not for the Scyther’s reaction.
“Fuck!” the male groaned, doubling over as another wave of nutpain echoed through his gut. It was getting worse with each hit – his testicles felt bruised. He spun to knock aside the implement behind him, but the floating spoon was already gone. “You can’t...this isn’t fair!”
“Oh can’t I?” The Alakazam side-stepped as the bug swiped at her, his arm-blades hitting nothing but air. Her spoon floated casually back into her hand. “You seemed to be enjoying it a minute ago.”
“That was...oh...that was different,” he complained, struggling to maintain focus. “You...nngh...nggha...”
The female was sticking her tongue out at him – which was appropriate, given what she was doing to his cock. The Scyther could have sworn someone was sucking him off, but all that surrounded his maleness was a cool blue glow. His legs trembled as the psychic force caressed his member, the pink length throbbing needfully in the open air.
And then her spoon was back, striking his right nut with a thud that sent his ballbag swinging. “Gah! You bitch!” he spat, fighting the urge to crumple to his knees.
Her teasing smile turned into a icy frown. “Well if you wanted me to be mean, you just had to ask.”
Before the male knew what was happening, his legs had been yanked apart by a strong psychic pull, and the Alakazam’s foot was buried in his groin.
Dragonair (F) vs. Charizard (M)
It was an incredibly stupid mistake. If you’re a fire-type, what should you avoid? THE WATER. And yet the Dragonair had teased him, seduced him, distracted him enough to get him to the edge of the pool – then dragged him under. Now it was all the male could do to keep his tailflame lit and to gasp lungfuls of air when she let him breach the surface.
The female was still down between his legs, where she’d been for the last several minutes: her lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, sucking fervently at his hard red length. The Charizard shuddered with pleasure, resisting the urge to look down at the nubile young female. He was dangerously close – one look at that grinning face, those gorgeous tits, those curvy hips, and he was sure to blow. And then...well...
As if on cue, another uppercut came rocketing into his ballsac, crushing his hefty dragonmakers up into his groin. Even with the knowledge that it was coming, the Charizard couldn’t help but groan, bubbles of air escaping from his mouth as his body instinctively tried to double over. She’d been pounding on his plums ever since he’d entered the water, tenderizing the poor orbs with blow after blow. If was no longer a question of whether she was going to neuter him – the question was when.
Suddenly a hand yanked down on his sac, and the male looked down in surprise and alarm.
That was mistake #2.
He locked eyes with the busty female, watching her lips slide up the length of his dragonhood until the whole length popped free. She gave one long lick along the underside, from base to tip – and he exploded, a mighty spurt of seed clouding the water.
In response the Dragonair tightened her grip around the base of his sac, holding his nuts in place as her other fist came crashing upwards: once, twice–
Pop!
–three times, four times–
Pop!
And a few more times for good measure, why not.
Mesprit (F) vs. Azelf (M) and Uxie (M)
The reasoning had seemed quite sound in the locker room, when the two of them were discussing battle strategy.
“There’s two of us and one of her!” Uxie had said. “And we’re all Psychics – it’s not like she’ll have a type advantage or anything.”
“Exactly.” Azelf nodded. “Even if she manages to surprise one of us, the other can swoop in an take her out.”
It was all very reassuring. But somehow, the two males had failed to note that Mesprit had two hands. Two hands that were currently clamped very, very tightly around two different sets of gonads.
“My nuts!” squealed two abnormally high-pitched voices.
“What’s that, boys?” The female was grinning, but there were beads of sweat on her forehead. 2-on-1 was more difficult, she had to admit – it was tricky to keep hold of just one twitching male, never mind two.
Then again, it was infinitely satisfying to tighten her grip and hear two different voices squealing for mercy, their frantic pleas overlapping each other in a tangled mess of “please” and “oh Arceus” and “they’re gonna pop!”. Or she could alternate squeezes: left, right, squeak, squawk. It was like playing an instrument.
She did that now, arm muscles bulging as she suddenly doubled the pressure on Uxie’s poor plums. The round orbs squished out between her fingers and the male let out a renewed wail, clutching at her closed fist in an attempt to pry it open.
She held the squeeze for a few more seconds, then turned back to Azelf with a smirk. “Now your turn.”
“Oh fuck not my baaaallls!”
Dewott (M) vs. Absol (M)
He’d tried to be reasonable – really, he had. His Absol opponent radiated smugness, but that wasn’t reason enough to hate him. Nor was his refusal to shake hands before the match (even if it was unsportsmanslike). Sucker Punch was a legal move, even to the groin (though it hurt like a motherfucker), and so was Taunt (though, again, following one with the other was rather unsportsmanlike). This was the Underground League, and dirty tactics were a standard part of battle.
No, the Dewott could have looked past all that if the Absol hadn’t literally cock-slapped him while he was down. Now the water-type was seeing red, glaring daggers at his opponent. Not that the Absol seemed to care – the dark-type just watched casually, picking a bit of dirt from one of his claws as the Dewott climbed back to his feet.
“Seriously, this is pathetic.” The disaster Pokemon gave a condescending smile. “Do you want to just give up now? Or would you rather suck me off fi–URK!”
A sudden burst of water pushed the male backwards, his arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance; another burst struck him square in the chest, knocking him on to his back with a thud. The Absol’s groan of pain jumped sharply in pitch as another blast hit home squarely between his legs, his furry sac pounded by a focused Water Gun. The male tried to double up and protect himself, but the Dewott’s foot was already on his chest, pushing him back down to the dirt.
“Will you please,” intoned the Dewott testily, “just shut. up?!”
The Absol opened his mouth in response, but any reply was drowned out by the deluge of water that came pounding down on his poor plums, his testicles crushed beneath the full onslaught of a point-blank Hydro Pump. The male seemed frozen for a long moment, every muscle tight with agony – then suddenly he was animated again, writhing in place, head-sickle scratching lines in the dirt. A keening wail issued from the back of his throat, sounding increasingly desperate until his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.
Later on the Dewott would admit that yes, he probably could have used a bit less force, and maybe then the Absol would still have a nut to his name. But seriously, what a dick.
Derpy (F) and Doctor Whooves (M)
The time-and-space-ship gave another metallic groan, even louder than before. Derpy let out an involuntary “eep!” as the floor suddenly shifted beneath her, her wings flaring to help maintain her balance. “Um...are you sure you know how to fly this thing?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Of course! I know precisely what I’m doing.” Doctor Whooves galloped from one side of the console to the other, rearing to kick a switch and stumbling as the floor shifted again. “Maybe. Probably.” He paused and looked at her. “Ever flown a TARDIS?”
The mailmare started to reply, but was interrupted as the entire room suddenly lurched sideways, sending both passengers tumbling to the ground. The Doctor rolled and hit the wall with an oof, the air driven from his lungs by the impact – only for Derpy to come crashing into him a moment later. The male’s eyes shot open in shock and surprise as the pegasus landed squarely between his legs, her bulk slamming forcefully into his groin and coming to a stop with his coltmakers pinned beneath her weight.
It was a long moment before the stallion found his voice...and when he did, it was a bit higher-pitched than usual. “Derpy!” squeaked the stallion. His forehooves moved instinctively to clutch his flattened plums, but they were still trapped beneath the female’s rear.
It took Derpy a moment to gather her wits – the female had to shake her head to clear her double vision – but once she realized what she was sitting on, she quickly scrambled to her hooves. “Ahh!” she exclaimed, stumbling as she rose, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
Doctor Whooves let out a groan as his companion rose, his aching balls reinflating to their usual healthy shape – but the relief was short-lived. Both the Time Lord’s hearts skipped a beat as the mare’s hoof came down squarely in the center of his sac, his jewels bulging out to either side in an attempt to escape the awful pressure. An instant later, that weight was gone – but then a different hoof came thundering down, catching just his left nut this time and squashing it carelessly into the floor. The stallion’s voice climbed yet another octave, his gut a pit of nausea, his body curling around the female’s leg until she finally stepped away.
To the pegasus, it had only been a split-second – a misstep; something round and squishy underhoof – but given the way the Doctor was crumpled on the ground clutching himself, it looked like the afternoon’s adventure might be cancelled. “I didn’t break anything, did I?” she asked sheepishly.
From the fetal position, Doctor Whooves just moaned.
It was an incredibly stupid mistake. If you’re a fire-type, what should you avoid? THE WATER. And yet the Dragonair had teased him, seduced him, distracted him enough to get him to the edge of the pool – then dragged him under. Now it was all the male could do to keep his tailflame lit and to gasp lungfuls of air when she let him breach the surface.
The female was still down between his legs, where she’d been for the last several minutes: her lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, sucking fervently at his hard red length. The Charizard shuddered with pleasure, resisting the urge to look down at the nubile young female. He was dangerously close – one look at that grinning face, those gorgeous tits, those curvy hips, and he was sure to blow. And then...well...
As if on cue, another uppercut came rocketing into his ballsac, crushing his hefty dragonmakers up into his groin. Even with the knowledge that it was coming, the Charizard couldn’t help but groan, bubbles of air escaping from his mouth as his body instinctively tried to double over. She’d been pounding on his plums ever since he’d entered the water, tenderizing the poor orbs with blow after blow. If was no longer a question of whether she was going to neuter him – the question was when.
Suddenly a hand yanked down on his sac, and the male looked down in surprise and alarm.
That was mistake #2.
He locked eyes with the busty female, watching her lips slide up the length of his dragonhood until the whole length popped free. She gave one long lick along the underside, from base to tip – and he exploded, a mighty spurt of seed clouding the water.
In response the Dragonair tightened her grip around the base of his sac, holding his nuts in place as her other fist came crashing upwards: once, twice–
Pop!
–three times, four times–
Pop!
And a few more times for good measure, why not.
Mesprit (F) vs. Azelf (M) and Uxie (M)
The reasoning had seemed quite sound in the locker room, when the two of them were discussing battle strategy.
“There’s two of us and one of her!” Uxie had said. “And we’re all Psychics – it’s not like she’ll have a type advantage or anything.”
“Exactly.” Azelf nodded. “Even if she manages to surprise one of us, the other can swoop in an take her out.”
It was all very reassuring. But somehow, the two males had failed to note that Mesprit had two hands. Two hands that were currently clamped very, very tightly around two different sets of gonads.
“My nuts!” squealed two abnormally high-pitched voices.
“What’s that, boys?” The female was grinning, but there were beads of sweat on her forehead. 2-on-1 was more difficult, she had to admit – it was tricky to keep hold of just one twitching male, never mind two.
Then again, it was infinitely satisfying to tighten her grip and hear two different voices squealing for mercy, their frantic pleas overlapping each other in a tangled mess of “please” and “oh Arceus” and “they’re gonna pop!”. Or she could alternate squeezes: left, right, squeak, squawk. It was like playing an instrument.
She did that now, arm muscles bulging as she suddenly doubled the pressure on Uxie’s poor plums. The round orbs squished out between her fingers and the male let out a renewed wail, clutching at her closed fist in an attempt to pry it open.
She held the squeeze for a few more seconds, then turned back to Azelf with a smirk. “Now your turn.”
“Oh fuck not my baaaallls!”
Dewott (M) vs. Absol (M)
He’d tried to be reasonable – really, he had. His Absol opponent radiated smugness, but that wasn’t reason enough to hate him. Nor was his refusal to shake hands before the match (even if it was unsportsmanslike). Sucker Punch was a legal move, even to the groin (though it hurt like a motherfucker), and so was Taunt (though, again, following one with the other was rather unsportsmanlike). This was the Underground League, and dirty tactics were a standard part of battle.
No, the Dewott could have looked past all that if the Absol hadn’t literally cock-slapped him while he was down. Now the water-type was seeing red, glaring daggers at his opponent. Not that the Absol seemed to care – the dark-type just watched casually, picking a bit of dirt from one of his claws as the Dewott climbed back to his feet.
“Seriously, this is pathetic.” The disaster Pokemon gave a condescending smile. “Do you want to just give up now? Or would you rather suck me off fi–URK!”
A sudden burst of water pushed the male backwards, his arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance; another burst struck him square in the chest, knocking him on to his back with a thud. The Absol’s groan of pain jumped sharply in pitch as another blast hit home squarely between his legs, his furry sac pounded by a focused Water Gun. The male tried to double up and protect himself, but the Dewott’s foot was already on his chest, pushing him back down to the dirt.
“Will you please,” intoned the Dewott testily, “just shut. up?!”
The Absol opened his mouth in response, but any reply was drowned out by the deluge of water that came pounding down on his poor plums, his testicles crushed beneath the full onslaught of a point-blank Hydro Pump. The male seemed frozen for a long moment, every muscle tight with agony – then suddenly he was animated again, writhing in place, head-sickle scratching lines in the dirt. A keening wail issued from the back of his throat, sounding increasingly desperate until his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.
Later on the Dewott would admit that yes, he probably could have used a bit less force, and maybe then the Absol would still have a nut to his name. But seriously, what a dick.
Derpy (F) and Doctor Whooves (M)
The time-and-space-ship gave another metallic groan, even louder than before. Derpy let out an involuntary “eep!” as the floor suddenly shifted beneath her, her wings flaring to help maintain her balance. “Um...are you sure you know how to fly this thing?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Of course! I know precisely what I’m doing.” Doctor Whooves galloped from one side of the console to the other, rearing to kick a switch and stumbling as the floor shifted again. “Maybe. Probably.” He paused and looked at her. “Ever flown a TARDIS?”
The mailmare started to reply, but was interrupted as the entire room suddenly lurched sideways, sending both passengers tumbling to the ground. The Doctor rolled and hit the wall with an oof, the air driven from his lungs by the impact – only for Derpy to come crashing into him a moment later. The male’s eyes shot open in shock and surprise as the pegasus landed squarely between his legs, her bulk slamming forcefully into his groin and coming to a stop with his coltmakers pinned beneath her weight.
It was a long moment before the stallion found his voice...and when he did, it was a bit higher-pitched than usual. “Derpy!” squeaked the stallion. His forehooves moved instinctively to clutch his flattened plums, but they were still trapped beneath the female’s rear.
It took Derpy a moment to gather her wits – the female had to shake her head to clear her double vision – but once she realized what she was sitting on, she quickly scrambled to her hooves. “Ahh!” she exclaimed, stumbling as she rose, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
Doctor Whooves let out a groan as his companion rose, his aching balls reinflating to their usual healthy shape – but the relief was short-lived. Both the Time Lord’s hearts skipped a beat as the mare’s hoof came down squarely in the center of his sac, his jewels bulging out to either side in an attempt to escape the awful pressure. An instant later, that weight was gone – but then a different hoof came thundering down, catching just his left nut this time and squashing it carelessly into the floor. The stallion’s voice climbed yet another octave, his gut a pit of nausea, his body curling around the female’s leg until she finally stepped away.
To the pegasus, it had only been a split-second – a misstep; something round and squishy underhoof – but given the way the Doctor was crumpled on the ground clutching himself, it looked like the afternoon’s adventure might be cancelled. “I didn’t break anything, did I?” she asked sheepishly.
From the fetal position, Doctor Whooves just moaned.
