Clean Adventure

by Black Month Willem Dafoe

Rating: mature
Tags: Random, Crossover, Human, Comedy
Length: 1139

Brock Lesnar and Thunderlane have sex.

Brock Lesnar and Thunderlane have sex.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-09 02:08:12 UTC

Lets get sexy.

"Ah, finally I'm done building this record-setting house of cards," said Thunderlane as he gently placed a Ten of Hearts atop a massive tower of shiny cardboard slices,"this took me a very long time, especially given that I had to have Twilight put a cloudwalking spell on this fifty foot ladder. Oh and also hooves but that was obvious."

Thunderlane climbed down the ladder to his soft, cushiony floor.

"Thanks to the Temper Pedic technology of this cloud, I can jump up and down on the bed, and the motion doesn't transfer, allowing me to perform day to day activities while keeping  my card house perfectly intact," said Thunderlane as he skipped around the house of cards and towards his kitchen. All that card stacking had given him quite the hankering for macaroni, and only delicious Kraft could save him now.

Just as Thunderlane was about to turn on his stove(which is made of clouds), he heard a knock at his cloud door.

"Oh my God there's a banging at the door!" He unenthusiastically cried.

Before Thunderlane could even consider answering the door, a giant, monstrous mountain of muscles burst through, sending deadly cloud debris gently floating in all directions. Unfortunately for Thunderlane, the massive man's door destruction made the entire house shake, resulting in a definitively collapsed house of cards.

Thunderlane sulked over to what was now a card-based symbol of records past, and he fell to his horse knees. He let out a shrill cry as a fountain of tears flew from his face, landing on the cards and causing them to explode because Equestrian cardboard is actually just pure sodium. Thankfully for Thunderlane, his entire front is composed of a highly flexible titanium alloy, just like clouds, so nothing was damaged and nobody was hurt.

Once Thunderlane was done crying, he got up and angrily stomped towards the offending meat-man.

Of course stomping is pretty much kicking so he created a bunch of holes in his floor in the process.

"How dare you?" Yelled Thunderlane as he pointed a hoof at the beast,"Who the Tartarus do you think you are?"

Unfortunately for Thunderlane, the person in his doorway was a creature of instinct, and the second he saw Thunderlane's hoof, and by extention his arm/foreleg, he struck, putting Thunderlane in his patented Kimura Lock™.

"Who am I?" shrieked the beast,"I am former UFC Heavyweight Champion Brock Lesnar, and I'm her to kick your ass, and then fuck it!"

The idea of anal sex made Thunderlane blush, and despite, or maybe partially because of the pain in his foreleg, he got a massive horse erection which Brock Lesnar noticed immediately.

"I see that you want this too," said Brock Lesnar,"because an erection is automatic consent by proxy."

Brock Lesnar released his Kimura Lock on Thunderlane's foreleg, and opted to use a Mouth Lock on his dick instead.

"Oh goodness," said Thunderlane," who would've guessed that your illustrious amateur wrestling background would come in so handy with fellatio?"

Brock Lesnar gargled in response as he took the horsecock further into his mouth until it penetrated his throat-tube. Thunderlane moaned loudly as a stream of precum oozed out of his dickhole directly into Brock's esophagus.

Brock let out a gutteral moan that sent a tremor up Thunderlane's cock, pushing him over the edge. Brock merely kept the dick deep in his throat as wave after wave of sticky stallion semen shot into his stomach, filling his digestive organs with a rich, protein-filled mass of baby batter. Thunderlane tried to pull out, but Brock kept him in, milking every ounce of sperm from the fat horse dick he so eagerly fellated. Only when he was sure that the flow of cum was completely stopped did Brock release the cock. Thunderlane's swollen member slid from Brock Lesnar's throat, escaping his mouth with a series of squelching sounds.

Both men fell onto their backs, Thunderlane breathing heavily, and Brock practically sucking in air like a vaccum. Thankfully years of cardio allowed his uninterrupted sucking session.

"Holy crap you're amazing ," said Thunderlane through heavy breaths.

"Yeah, I have lots of experience from sucking so much dick at football." Brock replied.

"I guess I should reciprocate."

Brock nodded, taking off his trunks and putting his dick in Thunderlane's face, but Thunderlane shook his head.

"I don't want your dick, turn around."

"You mean?"

"That's right Brock Lesnar, I want your fat steamy poop in my mouth right now."

Brock smiled and put his asshole up to Thunderlane's mouth, then he proceeded to push a fat log out of his anus.

Thunderlane eagerly accepted the shit rope, chomping it into sections as it slid out from Brock Lesnar's sphincter. Eventually his mouth was full, so he swallowed a few clumps of shit to make more room, savoring the taste and smell, as well as the feeling of the shit sliding down his throat. Eventually Brock completely emptied his asshole, turning it into a vacant shit lot.

Thunderlane swallowed the remaining shit and instructed Brock to get on his hands and knees, then he circled around and put his butthole up against Brock's own, creating an air-tight anal seal. Thunderlane grunted, and pushed out a huge shit, and of course since the shit had nowhere to go, it slid into Brock's butthole. Once Thunderlane's shit was exactly halfway between both anuses, Brock and Thunderlane worked in tandem, passing the shit back and forth to fuck each other with the shit-dildo.

Both men emitted a primal growl that vibrated on the cloud frequency, shaking the house. Then they parted buttholes, creating a half-centimetre gap in between them. Thunderlane and Brock Lesnar pushed with all their might, squishing the shit into a large disk-shape. They took the shit-disk and put it in the freezer for 6-8 weeks, and then mailed it to Vinyl Scratch who then put shitty dub step songs on it.

And that's how records are made.

The Beast Incarnate

Thunderlane awoke from his eternal slumber, and tried to arise from his mattress tomb in order to get some sacred corn flakes, but he found such an action impossible thanks to the vice-like cuddling of his new lover. On any other day, Thunderlane would've simply smiled and went back to sleep, but for whatever reason, he'd completely exhausted his supply of melitonin.

"Brock honey, please wake up." Said Thunderlane as he lightly poked the thick pectoral muscles of Brock Lesnar. He waited for a few seconds, but the beast didn't stir, so Thunderlane was forced to use his secret weapon.

Unfurling his wings as best he could, Thunderlane brought the flights appendages(better known as wings or "flappy flaps" if you're Scandinavian) up to Brock Lesnar's nose, rubbing the feathers along his nostrils very lightly.

Brock Lesnar shifted a bit, then sneezed