Teats Or GTFO!by kudzuhaikuChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 1Wingnut stood, in the middle of the audience, watching The Great and Powerful Trixie perform. The show, by any account, was awful. The crowd was mostly silent. There was no applause. Yet Trixie continued, labouring under the delusion that somehow, this was her best show ever. “Boo!” Wingnut shouted to the showmare. He was given a dirty look for his trouble, which caused her current spell to fizzle and pop. The crowd snickered and laughed, not at the showmare, but at her misfortune. “Hey Trixie!” Wingnut shouted. “You should go back to magical kindergarten!” The crowd howled with laughter, causing Trixie to become very flustered. She puffed out her cheeks, blushed angrily, and gave Wingnut the stinkeye. “Hey Trixie!” Wingnut yelled over the laughter. “Teats or get the fuck out!” “ENOUGH!” Trixie shouted. “So you want teats or you want Trixie to get out eh?” Trixie said, her horn glowing. “Try these on for size!” Her horn blazed, filling the room with light, and a beam of magic struck Wingnut. He felt an odd tingle, and there was nothing else. “Ha!” Wingnut shouted. “Nothing happened! Loser! Teats or get the fuck out!” “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Trixie said, a smug look on her features. There was a nervous laugh from somewhere behind Wingnut. He paused, then lowered his head and looked down between his front legs. Something nagged at his mind. Something didn’t feel right. He stared back towards his own balls and it dawned upon him that something was terribly wrong back there. Teats. Not just little swollen nipples like a nursing mare, but enormous floppy teats the size of cantaloupe melons dangled down on each side of his colt bits. “How do you like your teats?!” Trixie crowed. She cackled maniacally and then vanished from the stage in a puff of rainbow coloured smoke. The crowd was starting to laugh now. Not at Trixie, but at Wingnut. He ran. He took off running, feeling his new flesh slapping around together, banging into his hind legs, and smacking up against his balls. Wingnut muttered as he ran, his wings fluttering but held in to his sides, trying to escape the crowd. The crowd was howling. His teats hung down almost to his knees. They were swollen and painful. Running hurt. He felt wet back there. He stopped for a moment, looking back behind him, and realised there was a trail of milk on the floor. He gasped. Wingnut felt his face suddenly go aflame. He was leaking milk everywhere, and he could feel even more pressure building up back there. Painful pressure, a feeling that he had never known. He took off running again, but was forced to slow down. The bouncing and jiggling was simply too painful. He cleared the door and gingerly trotted away into the night, his new teats banging together and sloshing milk as he ran down the road, the pain and pressure becoming exquisite. After several blocks, he could run no longer. He stopped, breathless, in pain, dribbling a puddle between his hind legs. He heard a mare giggling at him. She was standing on the street corner. “You could make good money with those sugar!” She shouted. Wingnut bit down on his lip to keep from crying out in frustration. He heard more laughter. He heard hoofsteps behind him and felt something brush up against a teat. He whirled, seeing a stallion with a lewd grin. “Twenty five bits if you let me suck on those a while while everypony watches.” The lewd stallion said with a wink. “No!” Wingnut cried, spreading his wings. He flew away, rather clumsily, having a hard time flying. He looked down and saw the perverted stallion standing, mouth open, tongue out, trying to catch dribbles of milk that rained down. This night just couldn’t get any worse. Wingnut flew, splay legged, his teats banging together painfully, sending rivulets of milk cascading down below. A gust hit him, causing him to bank slightly, and he felt his balls being crushed between the two enormous mammary glands that suddenly slapped together. He very nearly dropped from the sky. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed, his balls aching, sending flaring pain up and down his backside and through his guts. And then the pain exploded through his teats. They were sore. Sensitive. Full of milk. His nipples blazed, feeling like the surface temperature of the sun. His teats collided together as he flew, slapping together painfully. “Ow ow ow oh fuck!” He shouted. “Stupid bitch Trixie!” He crashed into the roof of his apartment building, coming to a skidding halt on his hooves, causing his teats to slap together painfully. He kicked the door open with a slam, and then carefully made his way down the stairs, going down several floors, until he reached the floor with his apartment. He opened his front door, entered, and slammed it shut behind him. “Fucking bitch!” He shouted in frustration. He laid down upon his couch, on his back, and then looked down there to try and assess the situation. Big ol’ teaties. That was all he could think. They flopped over his stomach, his own nipples staring up at him accusingly, dribbling milk at him, soaking into his coat. He gently touched one with a hoof, causing it to squirt. He bit his lip and hissed. He gently squeezed them together, causing milk to flood his stomach, soaking him, trickling down his sides, into his wings, and down into his couch. Oh… He thought to himself. That felt kinda good… He gave himself another squeeze, causing more milk to dribble. He felt a stirring in his sheath, a faint tug. On top of everything else, he was making himself hard. What a great way to end the night. Something peeked up at him, protruding out from between his teats. Experimentally, he rubbed his teats along the sides of his little buddy, causing a moan to escape from his lips. He squeezed, a little roughly, causing himself some pain. Milk dribbled out. His teats felt slick, warm, and wet. He gave a few thrusts, just to see what it felt like, sliding himself between his own teats. Self teatie fucking… The thought was more than a little arousing. A new ache settled into his balls. No way to stop now, he thought to himself, picking up the pace. Each thrust caused pressure to rise in his throbbing cock, but seemed to ease the pressure in his teats as more milk was squeezed out. He squeezed his teats together, crushing them almost between his two hooves, sliding back and forth between them, all new sensations of pleasure causing his body to shiver. He now understood what a good teatie fuck felt like from both sides of the experience. The thought was nearly too much, he nearly blew his load right then and there. He squeezed down upon himself, reveling in the friction, perhaps squeezing a little too hard. Milk spattered upon his lips. He licked, tasting his own milk. It was sweet and creamy, thick, with an odd sweet scent. The thought was too much for him as something else spurted into his face. He felt it, hot wet and sticky, mingling with the milk that he was still licking. He gagged, tasting his own semen mixed with milk. It was salty and bitter, it made the milk taste sour. He lay on the couch, breathless, going soft, spitting out his own spunk, soaked with milk. He gently rubbed his own balls, feeling the pressure die down, that painful aching need. Semen began to dry and crust along his belly and his chest. As he lay there, he realised that he was going to have to find a way to get this cured. He had no idea what to do next. Author's Note I don't know what I was thinking, sorry. Chapter 2Wingnut awoke, his pelt crusty from his own spunk, and reeking of somewhat soured milk. His couch was stiff and crusty feeling from the milk that had soaked in. His teats ached horribly, swollen with milk. Teats. Boobs. Crotch tits. Funbags. Melons. Some mares had glandular growth issues that caused oversized mammaries. Usually, teats swelled only slightly from milk production, at least in equines. Minotaurs grew enormous tits on their chests. Wingnut suddenly had a new appreciation for the female form. Everything down there was sore, aching, he realised that he needed to be milked. He rolled off the couch and took a shower, hoping to clear his head. The hot water felt wonderful. He sat, sprawled out, legs splayed, in the bottom of the shower, hot water running on his teats. He thought about last night and felt a clench in his nethers, just below his dock. Milk dribbled from his nipples as the hot water beat down upon his swollen teats. He gently pressed down with a hoof, causing a teat to be mashed against the shower floor. Milk flooded out, swirling with the water and running down the drain. Some of the pressure eased away. Wingnut spent the next half an hour trying to milk himself, not knowing how, desperate to make the ache go away. He needed to find a cure. And maybe a bra. He needed to find Trixie and make her fix this. He doubted that she would be willing, but he would try. When he hot water ran out, he got out of the shower, dried himself off with a shake, and went to go fix himself something to eat. In the kitchen, he sat, eating toast and drinking coffee. He had been out of cream, so he had squirted a dollop of his own milk into his coffee cup. He would never admit it, but he liked his own brand better. It was sweeter and creamier in his coffee. He sat, sipping, nibbling on toast. It was almost sundown. Time to leave the house and then figure out what to do. He was already beginning to ache, milk dribbled. It was going to be difficult to walk or fly. Or even leave the house. He had no idea what to do next. Perhaps a hospital might be a good idea, as embarrassing as it might be to explain this to somepony. He squirted more milk into his half full coffee cup. At least they were useful. Maybe he could get a steady job giving milk. He wondered if his milk could be used to make cheese. He snorted, and finished the last of his toast. He carefully stuck his head out of the door, looking down the hallway, first one side, and then the other. Nopony around. Good. He made his way to the roof, carefully emerging from the top exit, feeling sore and tight back there. The sun was setting, and the first stars were already visible. He sat down on the roof, carefully, trying to not sit on his own teats. Tricky business. They flopped onto the warm soft tar of the roof and he could feel the heat of the day flooding his teats. It felt soothing and warm. He sat there for a long while, enjoying the breeze, when he heard the flap of wings. He looked around, seeing nothing, and felt slightly alarmed. “There he is.” A voice said. “The one we got a tip about last night. Grab him!” Wingnut spread his wings, ready to take off, but all he did was crash into the rooftop, drooling, fading into blackness. He awoke, feeling groggy. Something was in his mouth. Something rubbery. He was blindfolded. He felt ropes on each of his legs. He was on a bed. He realised with some alarm that it was a ball gag in his mouth. He kicked and squirmed, trying to get free, his teats aching and milk spurting from his efforts. “What a delightful surprise!” A voice said as a door opened. “This night shall last forever!” A female voice said. Wingnut panicked. He doubled his efforts, trying to squirm free. “Such a rare opportunity. Usually when I indulge, it is with oversized mares. But a stallion! With such fine teats!” The voice said, full of excitement. Wingnut felt warmth near his teats. Something was on the bed with him. It moved, carefully, drawing close. He could feel her warmth. He felt a tongue tease his nipple. He froze, completely still, his spine suddenly ablaze. There was another lick. “So sweet and creamy.” The voice said, before taking another lick. The strange mare, whomever she was, began to suckle. Wingnut felt the pressure in one teat began to ease off. A gagged moan rose from his throat. He felt a painful nip and jerked, pulling against his ropes. Another nip. He let out a wordless cry that was muffled by the ballgag. He delighted in the suckling, feeling the sweet gentle suction, but remained tense, fearing another nip. Nip. He pulled against his restraints, unable to stop what was happening. A tongue circled around his stiff nipple, teasing, lips pulling, sucking, little tugs, pulling and stretching the skin, sometimes punctuated with another painful nip. As the mare pressed against his side, getting a better angle to work him over, he felt feathers. She had wings. He could feel the milk being drained from him. Finally, after many tortuous minutes, she eased off the teat with a wet slurp and went to work on the other one, teasing, tugging, suckling, and nipping. It was too much to bear. He felt himself growing hard. “Watch it!” She warned. “You nearly stuck me in the eye!” She bit down savagely upon a nipple, causing Wingnut to thrash against his restraints. After what felt like forever, she stopped. “I wonder what else you have to offer.” She purred. He felt hot breath going lower, down the base of his erect cock, near his balls, and then down even lower… Wingnut could barely draw breath when he felt hot breath on his pucker. There was a faint touch from a teasing tongue. And then pressure, a firm lick, pressing in, getting traction, pulling him apart slightly, tugging and stretching. Another lick. And then another. Finally, the tongue pressed against his pucker, demanding entrance, friction building, tiny circling licks trying to force his pucker open, the tip pushing in slightly. He clenched and squeezed, trying to stop the probing tongue. “We have a fighter.” The voice said as the assault paused for a moment, and then resumed. He felt more licks, broad licks now, going in wide circles, slicking him up, soaking him, relaxing him. He felt the tongue drag along the tender place between his dock and his pucker, the tip offering a teasing wiggle. Teeth savagely clamped down upon the tender skin at the base of his dock, causing his whole body to stiffen wildly, pulling against his restraints. The strange mare pinched the skin, pulling and tugging, causing explosive pain through his nethers, When she finally let go, he found that he couldn’t clench up down there. The tongue began its slow entry, first the tip wiggling inward, and then a little more, licking, sliding in and out. He shivered, He couldn’t help it. He was hard now. Too hard. Over stimulated, throbbing, the curious tongue reaching deep inside now, he felt a load being readied for action deep within his balls. As she worked him over, he felt a horn brush against his teat. A horn? No. It couldn’t be... He didn’t get much of a chance to think about it. The tongue was gone, leaving him slick and slippery. Something else knocked at his backdoor. He felt a hoof edge spreading his pucker. No no no no no… He still couldn’t clinch, not without explosive pain coming from where he had been bit on the base of his dock. He was powerless to stop the probing hoof. He felt himself stretching, his pucker falling open, welcoming the probing hoof. No no no no no… And then it was inside, pressing deeper, twisting slightly, and then pressing into something that filled his whole backside with pressure, He blew his load explosively all over his own chest, some of it splashing up onto his face. “You rotten little spoilsport!” The voice shouted. “You’ve ruined our fun. How dare you make a mess while I enjoy myself!” He felt something lash against his cutie mark. First one lash, then a second, he felt welts rising on his skin. Another lash with some kind of corded whip. He felt a lash over one of his teats. He cried out, choking against the gag, squealing and kicking, trying to work himself free. His teat was on fire from the stinging blow. The hoof up his backside twisted painfully, driving deeper as the lashes continued to fall. What had once been somewhat pleasurable was now pure torture. He felt something clamp down on a nipple, and then the other. They were cold, metallic, the chill causing a painful sting. Something else metallic clamped around his balls, squeezing painfully. With a gagged scream he realised a thin metal rod was being inserted down his urethra, sliding down his half erect cock, with no lubrication, it tugged and pulled at the skin inside painfully, causing him to struggle violently, to no avail. The hoof was pulled free and he heard the jingle of metal. Odd sounds. Like a harness being cinched. The voice was silent, He felt two hooves, one on each side of his hips, and a body pressing down on top of him somewhat, angled against him, and he felt something cold and rubbery pressing against his pucker. A strap on he realised… The enormous phallus was rammed deep inside on the first stroke, and the rod inserted down his cock began to slide in and out rhythmically, the fluid release from his crushed prostate offering a miniscule amount of lubrication. The voice kept its promise. The night felt like it would last forever… Chapter 3Every inch of Wingnut ached. His cock throbbed in pain. His ass was sore. His teats were sore. His throat hurt. Every possible inch of him had been violated. All because he had heckled Trixie Lulamoon and she had cursed him with teats. He was on a train, wrapped up in a blanket, huddled in a dark corner, heading to Ponyville. He had heard of a zebra that lived in the woods that might help him. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the only lead he had. The rocking of the train car caused his teats to sway from side to side, pulling, causing the tender abused flesh to feel like it was going to tear. Pissing had been a nightmare after his ordeal, that first urination actually causing him to black out. He remembered very little after it was over, going under, blackness, and waking up in a park. He shivered. He leaned over and carefully farted, each emission feeling like he was going to shit himself, his abused asshole flapping from the feculent breeze. He felt surprisingly loose back there. He huddled deeper into his seat, pulling his blanket around him, not wanting to be seen. Trixie Lulamoon looked over at her companion acrossed the table, a blue alicorn. “Trixie takes it your experience was to your liking?” “Very much so.” Luna chuckled. “The heckler provided quite a bit of entertainment. I must say, I never expected you to use that spell I taught you on a stallion. I was expecting you to send me more mares.” “Trixie is pleased to serve.” A sly look appeared on Trixie’s face. “So, will you teach Trixie more magic now that Trixie has entertained you?” “Oh, indeed.” Luna said, grinning an evil grin. “But tell me, what else can you send my way? I have developed some odd appetites after the heckler.” “Trixie lives to serve. Tell Trixie what you want and Trixie will make it happen. Trixie is blessedly free of morals and scruples!” Trixie beamed as she boasted. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear.” Luna said with a cackle. “There are three little fillies that call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I have been in their dreams. They have caught my fancy.” A shrouded figure moved gingerly through the outskirts of Ponyville, trodding carefully, staring ahead at the woods before him. He moved with an odd bow legged gait, his hooves lightly touching the ground. An occasional cry of pain escaped his lips as he progressed forward. It had been a long walk for Wingnut, and moving through the woods made everything worse. Snagging branches, brambles, scrub overgrowing onto the path, nothing was ever easy. It took all of his effort to concentrate on placing one hoof in front of the other. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a hut that seemed to be made from an old tree. He took a last few pained steps and knocked upon the door, hoping the zebra would be home. “Here it is, a quarter to four, and there is somepony knocking, knocking upon my door.” Zecora said, seeing her visitor. “I’ve been cursed.” Wingnut rasped. “Come right in, I’ve seen worse, I can help you with your curse.” Zecora said smiling. Wingnut stepped in and shrugged off his blanket, causing Zecora’s jaw to drop open. “Surprising me is quite a feat. Before me I see enormous teats!” Zecora cried in shock. She ushered Wingnut to a bed. “Lay right back and mind your junk. I do not want no stallion spunk.” Zecora said, shaking her head. Wingnut did as he was asked, crawling into the bed, lying back, rolling over onto his back. “I think I need to be milked.” He said as the white fluid dribbled everywhere. Zecora gently pressed a teat, causing Wingnut to hiss. “Tell me now, just confess, what has brought you to this mess?” Zecora questioned. “Well, first I heckled Trixie Lulamoon.” Wingnut began. “And then she cursed me. After that, I was kidnapped and used as a sextoy by a pony with both a horn and a set of wings, who violated my every orifice. And now, I am telling all of this to a zebra with a rhyming fetish.” “If anything said is worth my time, then I must say it in a rhyme.” Zecora explained. She pressed again against a teat, causing it to spurt milk. She scowled and moved off to a shelf, looking for a bottle. After several minutes of looking, she returned and sprinkled some upon a teat, waiting. “Trixie’s spell was well rehearsed, but I think I can cure you of this curse.” Zecora said, still frowning. She went and fetched another bottle, muttering to herself. She grabbed a second bottle, and then a third, and began mixing them up in a mortar, crushing the contents with a pestle. She scooped some up with a spoon and carried in her teeth, shaking some on a teat. It turned purple when it contacted the milk. Zecora made a face like she was sucking a lemon. “There is a complication with this hex… I did not factor alicorn sex.” The zebra sighed, moving back to her collection of bottles. She began to rummage around, now in a very bad mood. “It was crude and rather crass... for an alicorn to rape your ass.” Wingnut choked. Zecora spent nearly a half an hour mixing up a concoction before trotting over and pouring the contents over the enormous teats. There was a painful burning sensation which made Wingnut whimper, and then nothing happened. “My strongest brew of manticore spit, and it did not do jack nor shit.” Zecora swore. She went back over to her workspace and went to work on another brew. This one didn’t take long. It was a simple mixture. She returned and poured some on Wingnut’s tongue. It turned blue. Zecora frowned and said nothing. She went over to a chair and sat down, rubbing her head with her hoof. “What’s wrong?’ Wingnut whimpered. “You should keep your teats, they’ll play a role, very soon you’ll have a foal.” Zecora said, defeated. “How..?” Wingnut cried. “The little hole from which you piss, will soon experience some birthing bliss.” Zecora said, shaking her head sadly. Wingnut’s scream was heard all the way to Ponyville as he passed out. The end. For now. We’ll see. Author's Note Whelp, that was fun. Was it good for you? Want a sequel? I might be motivated under the proper conditions.
Chapter 1Wingnut stood, in the middle of the audience, watching The Great and Powerful Trixie perform. The show, by any account, was awful. The crowd was mostly silent. There was no applause. Yet Trixie continued, labouring under the delusion that somehow, this was her best show ever. “Boo!” Wingnut shouted to the showmare. He was given a dirty look for his trouble, which caused her current spell to fizzle and pop. The crowd snickered and laughed, not at the showmare, but at her misfortune. “Hey Trixie!” Wingnut shouted. “You should go back to magical kindergarten!” The crowd howled with laughter, causing Trixie to become very flustered. She puffed out her cheeks, blushed angrily, and gave Wingnut the stinkeye. “Hey Trixie!” Wingnut yelled over the laughter. “Teats or get the fuck out!” “ENOUGH!” Trixie shouted. “So you want teats or you want Trixie to get out eh?” Trixie said, her horn glowing. “Try these on for size!” Her horn blazed, filling the room with light, and a beam of magic struck Wingnut. He felt an odd tingle, and there was nothing else. “Ha!” Wingnut shouted. “Nothing happened! Loser! Teats or get the fuck out!” “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Trixie said, a smug look on her features. There was a nervous laugh from somewhere behind Wingnut. He paused, then lowered his head and looked down between his front legs. Something nagged at his mind. Something didn’t feel right. He stared back towards his own balls and it dawned upon him that something was terribly wrong back there. Teats. Not just little swollen nipples like a nursing mare, but enormous floppy teats the size of cantaloupe melons dangled down on each side of his colt bits. “How do you like your teats?!” Trixie crowed. She cackled maniacally and then vanished from the stage in a puff of rainbow coloured smoke. The crowd was starting to laugh now. Not at Trixie, but at Wingnut. He ran. He took off running, feeling his new flesh slapping around together, banging into his hind legs, and smacking up against his balls. Wingnut muttered as he ran, his wings fluttering but held in to his sides, trying to escape the crowd. The crowd was howling. His teats hung down almost to his knees. They were swollen and painful. Running hurt. He felt wet back there. He stopped for a moment, looking back behind him, and realised there was a trail of milk on the floor. He gasped. Wingnut felt his face suddenly go aflame. He was leaking milk everywhere, and he could feel even more pressure building up back there. Painful pressure, a feeling that he had never known. He took off running again, but was forced to slow down. The bouncing and jiggling was simply too painful. He cleared the door and gingerly trotted away into the night, his new teats banging together and sloshing milk as he ran down the road, the pain and pressure becoming exquisite. After several blocks, he could run no longer. He stopped, breathless, in pain, dribbling a puddle between his hind legs. He heard a mare giggling at him. She was standing on the street corner. “You could make good money with those sugar!” She shouted. Wingnut bit down on his lip to keep from crying out in frustration. He heard more laughter. He heard hoofsteps behind him and felt something brush up against a teat. He whirled, seeing a stallion with a lewd grin. “Twenty five bits if you let me suck on those a while while everypony watches.” The lewd stallion said with a wink. “No!” Wingnut cried, spreading his wings. He flew away, rather clumsily, having a hard time flying. He looked down and saw the perverted stallion standing, mouth open, tongue out, trying to catch dribbles of milk that rained down. This night just couldn’t get any worse. Wingnut flew, splay legged, his teats banging together painfully, sending rivulets of milk cascading down below. A gust hit him, causing him to bank slightly, and he felt his balls being crushed between the two enormous mammary glands that suddenly slapped together. He very nearly dropped from the sky. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed, his balls aching, sending flaring pain up and down his backside and through his guts. And then the pain exploded through his teats. They were sore. Sensitive. Full of milk. His nipples blazed, feeling like the surface temperature of the sun. His teats collided together as he flew, slapping together painfully. “Ow ow ow oh fuck!” He shouted. “Stupid bitch Trixie!” He crashed into the roof of his apartment building, coming to a skidding halt on his hooves, causing his teats to slap together painfully. He kicked the door open with a slam, and then carefully made his way down the stairs, going down several floors, until he reached the floor with his apartment. He opened his front door, entered, and slammed it shut behind him. “Fucking bitch!” He shouted in frustration. He laid down upon his couch, on his back, and then looked down there to try and assess the situation. Big ol’ teaties. That was all he could think. They flopped over his stomach, his own nipples staring up at him accusingly, dribbling milk at him, soaking into his coat. He gently touched one with a hoof, causing it to squirt. He bit his lip and hissed. He gently squeezed them together, causing milk to flood his stomach, soaking him, trickling down his sides, into his wings, and down into his couch. Oh… He thought to himself. That felt kinda good… He gave himself another squeeze, causing more milk to dribble. He felt a stirring in his sheath, a faint tug. On top of everything else, he was making himself hard. What a great way to end the night. Something peeked up at him, protruding out from between his teats. Experimentally, he rubbed his teats along the sides of his little buddy, causing a moan to escape from his lips. He squeezed, a little roughly, causing himself some pain. Milk dribbled out. His teats felt slick, warm, and wet. He gave a few thrusts, just to see what it felt like, sliding himself between his own teats. Self teatie fucking… The thought was more than a little arousing. A new ache settled into his balls. No way to stop now, he thought to himself, picking up the pace. Each thrust caused pressure to rise in his throbbing cock, but seemed to ease the pressure in his teats as more milk was squeezed out. He squeezed his teats together, crushing them almost between his two hooves, sliding back and forth between them, all new sensations of pleasure causing his body to shiver. He now understood what a good teatie fuck felt like from both sides of the experience. The thought was nearly too much, he nearly blew his load right then and there. He squeezed down upon himself, reveling in the friction, perhaps squeezing a little too hard. Milk spattered upon his lips. He licked, tasting his own milk. It was sweet and creamy, thick, with an odd sweet scent. The thought was too much for him as something else spurted into his face. He felt it, hot wet and sticky, mingling with the milk that he was still licking. He gagged, tasting his own semen mixed with milk. It was salty and bitter, it made the milk taste sour. He lay on the couch, breathless, going soft, spitting out his own spunk, soaked with milk. He gently rubbed his own balls, feeling the pressure die down, that painful aching need. Semen began to dry and crust along his belly and his chest. As he lay there, he realised that he was going to have to find a way to get this cured. He had no idea what to do next. Author's Note I don't know what I was thinking, sorry.
Chapter 2Wingnut awoke, his pelt crusty from his own spunk, and reeking of somewhat soured milk. His couch was stiff and crusty feeling from the milk that had soaked in. His teats ached horribly, swollen with milk. Teats. Boobs. Crotch tits. Funbags. Melons. Some mares had glandular growth issues that caused oversized mammaries. Usually, teats swelled only slightly from milk production, at least in equines. Minotaurs grew enormous tits on their chests. Wingnut suddenly had a new appreciation for the female form. Everything down there was sore, aching, he realised that he needed to be milked. He rolled off the couch and took a shower, hoping to clear his head. The hot water felt wonderful. He sat, sprawled out, legs splayed, in the bottom of the shower, hot water running on his teats. He thought about last night and felt a clench in his nethers, just below his dock. Milk dribbled from his nipples as the hot water beat down upon his swollen teats. He gently pressed down with a hoof, causing a teat to be mashed against the shower floor. Milk flooded out, swirling with the water and running down the drain. Some of the pressure eased away. Wingnut spent the next half an hour trying to milk himself, not knowing how, desperate to make the ache go away. He needed to find a cure. And maybe a bra. He needed to find Trixie and make her fix this. He doubted that she would be willing, but he would try. When he hot water ran out, he got out of the shower, dried himself off with a shake, and went to go fix himself something to eat. In the kitchen, he sat, eating toast and drinking coffee. He had been out of cream, so he had squirted a dollop of his own milk into his coffee cup. He would never admit it, but he liked his own brand better. It was sweeter and creamier in his coffee. He sat, sipping, nibbling on toast. It was almost sundown. Time to leave the house and then figure out what to do. He was already beginning to ache, milk dribbled. It was going to be difficult to walk or fly. Or even leave the house. He had no idea what to do next. Perhaps a hospital might be a good idea, as embarrassing as it might be to explain this to somepony. He squirted more milk into his half full coffee cup. At least they were useful. Maybe he could get a steady job giving milk. He wondered if his milk could be used to make cheese. He snorted, and finished the last of his toast. He carefully stuck his head out of the door, looking down the hallway, first one side, and then the other. Nopony around. Good. He made his way to the roof, carefully emerging from the top exit, feeling sore and tight back there. The sun was setting, and the first stars were already visible. He sat down on the roof, carefully, trying to not sit on his own teats. Tricky business. They flopped onto the warm soft tar of the roof and he could feel the heat of the day flooding his teats. It felt soothing and warm. He sat there for a long while, enjoying the breeze, when he heard the flap of wings. He looked around, seeing nothing, and felt slightly alarmed. “There he is.” A voice said. “The one we got a tip about last night. Grab him!” Wingnut spread his wings, ready to take off, but all he did was crash into the rooftop, drooling, fading into blackness. He awoke, feeling groggy. Something was in his mouth. Something rubbery. He was blindfolded. He felt ropes on each of his legs. He was on a bed. He realised with some alarm that it was a ball gag in his mouth. He kicked and squirmed, trying to get free, his teats aching and milk spurting from his efforts. “What a delightful surprise!” A voice said as a door opened. “This night shall last forever!” A female voice said. Wingnut panicked. He doubled his efforts, trying to squirm free. “Such a rare opportunity. Usually when I indulge, it is with oversized mares. But a stallion! With such fine teats!” The voice said, full of excitement. Wingnut felt warmth near his teats. Something was on the bed with him. It moved, carefully, drawing close. He could feel her warmth. He felt a tongue tease his nipple. He froze, completely still, his spine suddenly ablaze. There was another lick. “So sweet and creamy.” The voice said, before taking another lick. The strange mare, whomever she was, began to suckle. Wingnut felt the pressure in one teat began to ease off. A gagged moan rose from his throat. He felt a painful nip and jerked, pulling against his ropes. Another nip. He let out a wordless cry that was muffled by the ballgag. He delighted in the suckling, feeling the sweet gentle suction, but remained tense, fearing another nip. Nip. He pulled against his restraints, unable to stop what was happening. A tongue circled around his stiff nipple, teasing, lips pulling, sucking, little tugs, pulling and stretching the skin, sometimes punctuated with another painful nip. As the mare pressed against his side, getting a better angle to work him over, he felt feathers. She had wings. He could feel the milk being drained from him. Finally, after many tortuous minutes, she eased off the teat with a wet slurp and went to work on the other one, teasing, tugging, suckling, and nipping. It was too much to bear. He felt himself growing hard. “Watch it!” She warned. “You nearly stuck me in the eye!” She bit down savagely upon a nipple, causing Wingnut to thrash against his restraints. After what felt like forever, she stopped. “I wonder what else you have to offer.” She purred. He felt hot breath going lower, down the base of his erect cock, near his balls, and then down even lower… Wingnut could barely draw breath when he felt hot breath on his pucker. There was a faint touch from a teasing tongue. And then pressure, a firm lick, pressing in, getting traction, pulling him apart slightly, tugging and stretching. Another lick. And then another. Finally, the tongue pressed against his pucker, demanding entrance, friction building, tiny circling licks trying to force his pucker open, the tip pushing in slightly. He clenched and squeezed, trying to stop the probing tongue. “We have a fighter.” The voice said as the assault paused for a moment, and then resumed. He felt more licks, broad licks now, going in wide circles, slicking him up, soaking him, relaxing him. He felt the tongue drag along the tender place between his dock and his pucker, the tip offering a teasing wiggle. Teeth savagely clamped down upon the tender skin at the base of his dock, causing his whole body to stiffen wildly, pulling against his restraints. The strange mare pinched the skin, pulling and tugging, causing explosive pain through his nethers, When she finally let go, he found that he couldn’t clench up down there. The tongue began its slow entry, first the tip wiggling inward, and then a little more, licking, sliding in and out. He shivered, He couldn’t help it. He was hard now. Too hard. Over stimulated, throbbing, the curious tongue reaching deep inside now, he felt a load being readied for action deep within his balls. As she worked him over, he felt a horn brush against his teat. A horn? No. It couldn’t be... He didn’t get much of a chance to think about it. The tongue was gone, leaving him slick and slippery. Something else knocked at his backdoor. He felt a hoof edge spreading his pucker. No no no no no… He still couldn’t clinch, not without explosive pain coming from where he had been bit on the base of his dock. He was powerless to stop the probing hoof. He felt himself stretching, his pucker falling open, welcoming the probing hoof. No no no no no… And then it was inside, pressing deeper, twisting slightly, and then pressing into something that filled his whole backside with pressure, He blew his load explosively all over his own chest, some of it splashing up onto his face. “You rotten little spoilsport!” The voice shouted. “You’ve ruined our fun. How dare you make a mess while I enjoy myself!” He felt something lash against his cutie mark. First one lash, then a second, he felt welts rising on his skin. Another lash with some kind of corded whip. He felt a lash over one of his teats. He cried out, choking against the gag, squealing and kicking, trying to work himself free. His teat was on fire from the stinging blow. The hoof up his backside twisted painfully, driving deeper as the lashes continued to fall. What had once been somewhat pleasurable was now pure torture. He felt something clamp down on a nipple, and then the other. They were cold, metallic, the chill causing a painful sting. Something else metallic clamped around his balls, squeezing painfully. With a gagged scream he realised a thin metal rod was being inserted down his urethra, sliding down his half erect cock, with no lubrication, it tugged and pulled at the skin inside painfully, causing him to struggle violently, to no avail. The hoof was pulled free and he heard the jingle of metal. Odd sounds. Like a harness being cinched. The voice was silent, He felt two hooves, one on each side of his hips, and a body pressing down on top of him somewhat, angled against him, and he felt something cold and rubbery pressing against his pucker. A strap on he realised… The enormous phallus was rammed deep inside on the first stroke, and the rod inserted down his cock began to slide in and out rhythmically, the fluid release from his crushed prostate offering a miniscule amount of lubrication. The voice kept its promise. The night felt like it would last forever…
Chapter 3Every inch of Wingnut ached. His cock throbbed in pain. His ass was sore. His teats were sore. His throat hurt. Every possible inch of him had been violated. All because he had heckled Trixie Lulamoon and she had cursed him with teats. He was on a train, wrapped up in a blanket, huddled in a dark corner, heading to Ponyville. He had heard of a zebra that lived in the woods that might help him. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the only lead he had. The rocking of the train car caused his teats to sway from side to side, pulling, causing the tender abused flesh to feel like it was going to tear. Pissing had been a nightmare after his ordeal, that first urination actually causing him to black out. He remembered very little after it was over, going under, blackness, and waking up in a park. He shivered. He leaned over and carefully farted, each emission feeling like he was going to shit himself, his abused asshole flapping from the feculent breeze. He felt surprisingly loose back there. He huddled deeper into his seat, pulling his blanket around him, not wanting to be seen. Trixie Lulamoon looked over at her companion acrossed the table, a blue alicorn. “Trixie takes it your experience was to your liking?” “Very much so.” Luna chuckled. “The heckler provided quite a bit of entertainment. I must say, I never expected you to use that spell I taught you on a stallion. I was expecting you to send me more mares.” “Trixie is pleased to serve.” A sly look appeared on Trixie’s face. “So, will you teach Trixie more magic now that Trixie has entertained you?” “Oh, indeed.” Luna said, grinning an evil grin. “But tell me, what else can you send my way? I have developed some odd appetites after the heckler.” “Trixie lives to serve. Tell Trixie what you want and Trixie will make it happen. Trixie is blessedly free of morals and scruples!” Trixie beamed as she boasted. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear.” Luna said with a cackle. “There are three little fillies that call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I have been in their dreams. They have caught my fancy.” A shrouded figure moved gingerly through the outskirts of Ponyville, trodding carefully, staring ahead at the woods before him. He moved with an odd bow legged gait, his hooves lightly touching the ground. An occasional cry of pain escaped his lips as he progressed forward. It had been a long walk for Wingnut, and moving through the woods made everything worse. Snagging branches, brambles, scrub overgrowing onto the path, nothing was ever easy. It took all of his effort to concentrate on placing one hoof in front of the other. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a hut that seemed to be made from an old tree. He took a last few pained steps and knocked upon the door, hoping the zebra would be home. “Here it is, a quarter to four, and there is somepony knocking, knocking upon my door.” Zecora said, seeing her visitor. “I’ve been cursed.” Wingnut rasped. “Come right in, I’ve seen worse, I can help you with your curse.” Zecora said smiling. Wingnut stepped in and shrugged off his blanket, causing Zecora’s jaw to drop open. “Surprising me is quite a feat. Before me I see enormous teats!” Zecora cried in shock. She ushered Wingnut to a bed. “Lay right back and mind your junk. I do not want no stallion spunk.” Zecora said, shaking her head. Wingnut did as he was asked, crawling into the bed, lying back, rolling over onto his back. “I think I need to be milked.” He said as the white fluid dribbled everywhere. Zecora gently pressed a teat, causing Wingnut to hiss. “Tell me now, just confess, what has brought you to this mess?” Zecora questioned. “Well, first I heckled Trixie Lulamoon.” Wingnut began. “And then she cursed me. After that, I was kidnapped and used as a sextoy by a pony with both a horn and a set of wings, who violated my every orifice. And now, I am telling all of this to a zebra with a rhyming fetish.” “If anything said is worth my time, then I must say it in a rhyme.” Zecora explained. She pressed again against a teat, causing it to spurt milk. She scowled and moved off to a shelf, looking for a bottle. After several minutes of looking, she returned and sprinkled some upon a teat, waiting. “Trixie’s spell was well rehearsed, but I think I can cure you of this curse.” Zecora said, still frowning. She went and fetched another bottle, muttering to herself. She grabbed a second bottle, and then a third, and began mixing them up in a mortar, crushing the contents with a pestle. She scooped some up with a spoon and carried in her teeth, shaking some on a teat. It turned purple when it contacted the milk. Zecora made a face like she was sucking a lemon. “There is a complication with this hex… I did not factor alicorn sex.” The zebra sighed, moving back to her collection of bottles. She began to rummage around, now in a very bad mood. “It was crude and rather crass... for an alicorn to rape your ass.” Wingnut choked. Zecora spent nearly a half an hour mixing up a concoction before trotting over and pouring the contents over the enormous teats. There was a painful burning sensation which made Wingnut whimper, and then nothing happened. “My strongest brew of manticore spit, and it did not do jack nor shit.” Zecora swore. She went back over to her workspace and went to work on another brew. This one didn’t take long. It was a simple mixture. She returned and poured some on Wingnut’s tongue. It turned blue. Zecora frowned and said nothing. She went over to a chair and sat down, rubbing her head with her hoof. “What’s wrong?’ Wingnut whimpered. “You should keep your teats, they’ll play a role, very soon you’ll have a foal.” Zecora said, defeated. “How..?” Wingnut cried. “The little hole from which you piss, will soon experience some birthing bliss.” Zecora said, shaking her head sadly. Wingnut’s scream was heard all the way to Ponyville as he passed out. The end. For now. We’ll see. Author's Note Whelp, that was fun. Was it good for you? Want a sequel? I might be motivated under the proper conditions.
