Kim Possible: A Sitch in Equestria

With nothing to do once his girlfriend, Applejack, had gone back to work, Touch Down had spent several hours walking in circles in town square. He couldn’t go home as the smell of shit and dead dog permeated the air and left him with a strange feeling: sadness. Though the more pressing concern was that he couldn’t quite remember where his house was.

After a while, other ponies started taking notice, and being the single-minded herd creatures they are, began following him. Eventually, he had a couple dozen ponies doing circles in front of Town Hall, and the staff inside had taken notice.

Mayor Mare let the blind snap shut as she pulled her hoof away, having watched the growing group of ponies on her doorstep with a sense of dread. She pulled at her collar, loosening it, noting that it had gotten very hot in her office.

“Secretary,” she called her secretary, “have they given any demands yet?”

A large bead of sweat rolled down her forehead dropping from the neanderthal-esque slope of her chiseled brow. The salty orb rotated in midair for a fraction of a second before being caught on the tip of her secretary’s long, prehensile tongue as she stepped into the office. It wouldn’t do for her to sweat on the floor, after all. That would stain the carpet.

“No, your mayorness. They’re just rotating menacingly…” The secretary, a young brown girl pony with a secretary for a cutie mark replied.

“This is bad,” Mayor Mare replied, turning back to the window, “Ponyville has never had a strike before. I don’t know what they want, but this could very well be the end of my career…” she glanced sidelong at the noose that hung ominously in the corner, wondering if today was the day she’d finally be taking the old girl for a spin. “If they come asking for blood, we have countermeasures in place,” she finished offhoofedly.

“That we do,” her secretary agreed, glancing at her own noose in the corner in the waiting room outside the mayor’s office.

“Indeed,” nodded her page as he looked at the frayed, shitty noose they’d hung up for him. Heck, the thing was so flimsy you probably couldn’t even hang a puppy! “Also I’ve identified the mob’s ring leader.”

The two female ponies turned and looked at the young, teenage intern pony, his face covered in horse acne. “It’s Touch Down. The other ponies seem to be following him.”

“Touch Down, of course!” Mayor Mare practically yelled. Then literally yelled a few moments later, “TOUCH DOWN, OF COURSE!”

“Isn’t he that huge hunk Hoofegg player that got dishonorably discharged from the league after losing his first-ever game today?” The secretary questioned, though it was rhetorical as every pony is Ponyville stops all work to watch Hoofegg games on their HV.

“Indeed,” Mayor Mare answered regardless, “I bet that’s why he’s protesting. He wants a job!”

“Wow, you’re so smart!” The secretary praised, practically gushing. She’d have gone down on the mayor right then and there, had Mayor Mare not been castrated when she ran for office. It’s illegal for Men, inferior as they are, to hold seats of power in Equestria, after all, and she’d had an artificial Vagina grafted to the stump her old genitals had occupied.

“That I am,” the Mayor agreed, “now then, let’s get to work. We may be able to save my career yet!”

Meanwhile, outside, Touch Down had lost track of how many circles he’d made. To be fair, though, that just means he’s done more than two rotations. Either way, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should start doing something different, when the doors to the Town Hall burst open and confetti shot out, alerting the small crowd who was following him.

The Secretary and Page emerged on either side, trumpets in hoof, and they blew a pair of out-of-tune notes to announce the Mayor’s arrival. As if summoned by the instruments, Mayor Mare emerged from the building a moment later and walked up to the podium.

“Umph-hum,” she cleared her throat into the microphone, “is this thing on?” She tapped it a few times, resulting in a booming from the speakers which turned into feedback. After several moments it quieted, though, and she addressed the assembled crowd.

“Ponies of Ponyville, I come to you with excellent news,” she preambled, looking down at her notecards her resident Jew had worked up for her. “After the tragedy that befell our good friend Touch Down this morning, we’ve decided to offer him a job! There’s absolutely no reason to panic, or riot, or demand my head,” she nervously glanced over at the 15-foot tall guillotine that loomed ominously over the podium.

The whole crowd cheered and danced, throwing up their own confetti before dispersing and heading home, leaving Touch Down alone. The Mayor stepped down from the podium and walked over to the gigantic dark-brown pony also known as Touch Down.

“Hey page!” she yelled. The teenage pony came over, a bit shaky at being this close to an HV celebrity. “You’re to help Touch Down get a job. Don’t return until you’re done. Also pick up my dry-cleaned collars and bow ties on your way back.” she ordered before turning and walking back into the Town Hall. Her Secretary was right behind her, and slammed the doors shut, leaving the two ponies standing awkwardly in the middle of the square.

A few moments of silence passed before the page coughed into his hoof. “So, uh, Mr. Touch Down. I guess I’m here to help you get a job… So, ummm, what do you like?”

Touch Down contemplated this for a few moments, the fans that helped cool his brain when it processed large amounts of information became audible as they spun up, and he came up with an answer. “Puppies,” he remarked. He couldn’t quite remember why, but the thought of puppies made him both happy and sad at the same time. Having two emotions at once was using up extra processing power, putting unnecessary stress on Touch Down’s body and causing him to get diarrhea.

His tummy rumbled, and he groaned as pressure built in his intestines, filling them like a clown’s twisted balloon. “Fart,” he commanded, and his body released the pressure in a series of flatulent bursts, the brass bass of his expulsed gas like a siren foreshadowing the town’s coming destruction. After a dozen staccato bursts, his anus percolated the last and loudest anal exhale which dimenuendoed before cutting off sharply.

The page clapped, impressed by Touch Down’s talent before pulling up a clipboard. “If you like puppies, perhaps we can start here,” he said, skimming through the list of job openings. “Fluttershy’s house has an opening for taking care of animals since she hasn’t been back since this morning.”

Touch Down only caught about half of that. Despite his posterior outburst, his innards were still writhing, and it took most of his considerable body control to not outright shit himself. He simply nodded, and the Page lead the way towards the outskirts of town.

There they arrived at a run-down home. Judging by the smell, the building was clearly inhabited by rats, and as they neared they saw dozens of small animals clawing frantically at the windows, clearly trying to escape the hot interior. Without Fluttershy to feed them, they would surely starve. As they neared the building, Touch Down accidently stepped in something.

He wrinkled his nose, thinking it was probably shit, but after looking down he realized it was just a little white bunny. The weight of his capped appendages had crushed the little creature like a teletubby crushing a pony, leaving a stick film of red sludge on him. He turned and wiped it off in the grass before moving up to the page.

"You've already got population control down." remarked the page, again impressed, "Fluttershy was a complete pussy, that rabbit basically ran her life and just scurried around fucking everything. If you could mash twenty more into paste by the end of the tour you'll get a headstart on the cull."

Touch couldn't make out a full sentence of that schpiel. He understood a few words, mostly the three-letter ones, but stringing them together and processing them was ridiculously overtaxing. His body, however, honed from years of positive reinforcement from his hoofball coaches, understood this as some form of praise. Working in reverse order to how a nervous system operates, his body sent a thought up his nerves and to his brain."

stomp bunny

It took a second for this thought to manifest itself in Touch's mouth, but eventually he uttered the command his body had sent to his brain.

"Stomp," he said.

If it were capable, his muscles probably would have rolled their eyes and said "yeah, no shit we told you that, you retard, you fucking giant idiot."

Instead, they sarcastically moved his body, stomping his feet for him as they propelled his incredible mass forward at great speed.

With the slightest touch of Touch Down’s side, the page was flung away into the bushes like a used tissue after I’ve finished cumming into it, his body obliterating a bird’s nest and its cargo of little, blue treats in the process. As the yellowish amniotic fluid from the eggs seeped onto his skin, his acne was immediately cured.

Touch Down continued unabated, and like the fucking Juggernaut, he slammed straight through the front door, pulverizing wood and animals too slow to flee alike. His collision sent splinters flying into the building, peppering a dozen critters and resounding in pained squeals, and the shockwave from his entrance rumbled through the walls, causing the nearby window panes to explode in a hail of glass. His tummy grumbled more angrily this time, revealing that despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer.

Unfortunately, with his horribly-blurred vision, he couldn’t tell a snack pack from a deer track, much less the bathroom from the rest of the house. He yelled, septic rage running through his system. His face turned red, huge veins bulging from his neck and he clenched up like a tissue after I’ve finished cumming into it. He bellowed an inhuman screech that sounded like the thing from Steven Spielberg's hit movie, ‘The Thing’, and the hundreds of small animals in the room froze up in shock, stopping their frantic evasion as an alpha stood over them.

Touch Down had only moments, and he used them wisely, turning 180 degrees to be sure the house would contain what was coming. “RAAAAGGHH!” He raged, a blood vessel popping in his left eye as his colon finished pumping up like a super soaker, and he sprayed an unholy torrent of greenish-brown filth from his rear with all the force of a firehose. The concentrated stream of diarrhea tore across the room, splitting into a deluge that punched holes in walls, furniture, and flesh alike. The thrust this created was even too much for a muscular hulk like Touch Down to control, and his ass ocellated like a sprinkler, leaving not an inch of the house’s interior untouched as his leg caps dug furrows into the wooden floor.

As quickly as it came, it was over, and as the last trickle of feces pitter pattered from his under-tail(Not to be confused with Steven Spielberg's hit game, ‘Undertale’) hole, Touch Down gave his body the command it was waiting for. “Sigh,” and it did, his muscles unclenching and firing one last involuntary squirt through the last remaining support beam on the ground level of the cottage.

The house collapsed around him, but bug-infested as the masonry was, it was hardly dense enough to even so much as scratch Touch Down, who simply walked out of the ruin before the dust even settled.

The Page had just finished extracting himself from the bush when Touch Down walked over to him, expectantly. The Page admired his charge’s handiwork, checking a few notes onto his clipboard. “Impressive work! Fluttershy’s job was simply to contain the many wild animals that wander in from the nearby woods, but you’ve surpassed her in every way. Perhaps it’s fate that she disappeared a few hours ago so you were able to achieve this monumental achievement. If only she were here to admire your excellence.” He gushed quite literally, saliva dripping from every orifice.

Once again, Touch Down didn’t understand a word of the drivel coming from the smaller pony’s mouth, but he could tell he was being praised again, and he beamed a smile with less teeth than I have tissues left to cum into.

The Page wandered over and inspected the wreckage, only risking a few moments before the ungodly stench forced him to retreat, but he’d seen enough. “Not a chance anything could have survived that,” he admitted. “Well, Mr. Touch Down, as much as I’d love to award you an official certificate of pony employment, it seems this job position is no longer required for the time being.” He reached into his tail compartment and produced a small pile of copper bits and slipped them into Touch Down’s mouth-- which he promptly swallowed-- before continuing. “Your pay, 6 copper bits.”

Accounting for inflation, that was enough to buy 1-2 hard candies at the general store, or perhaps an entire hoof-full of dirt if you haggled. Touch Down continued to stare at him, and as the pony was about to turn away to return to his normal job, he stopped.

“What? It couldn’t be that you’re not satisfied?”

Touch kept staring. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was, and couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here.

Seeing the big horse’ resolve, The Page looked back at his clipboard, trying to find another position the ex-HoofEgg superstar could fill (Not quarterback or receiver xD). His eyes fell onto one as a seamstress’ assistant in Carousel Boutique, and he nodded his head. “How about this?”

He brought his little clipboard up to Touch's wrinkly face, pointing with a horse-finger to the position in question. Touch Down looked at the clipboard, recognizing it immediately. This was the thing his coaches pointed at sometimes. This complete stranger must be his new coach! He was trying to make a play!

He couldn't make out a thing on the actual clipboard, partially due to his blurred vision from CTE, but mostly because he's fucking retarded. Barreling forward like a wild boar was standard protocol on the hoofegg field though. Touch felt completely comfortable for the first time in hours.

"Charge, please." Touch Down implored, finally showing his own muscles some fucking respect for once.

His body carried out the request with gusto, launching himself directly forward, in the direction of Ponyville, but also coincidentally in the exact Direction of Carousel Boutique. The Page was, of course, also in front of Touch Down, though certainly not for long. In real time he was pasted immediately, but in slow motion, his demise was much more gruesome.

Thanks to the speed at which Touch launched himself forward, as well as his hearty constitution, he encountered no resistance as his chest collided with the face of the much shorter Pony in his path. The Page hadn't the time to process or react in any sense of the word. As Touch moved forward, he flattened any piece of the Page he came into contact with, in a process that went from nose-to-tail. The Page essentially crushed in on himself like a soda can, or perhaps more like a tissue after I've finished cumming into it. His liquefied remains shot behind Touch like a mach cone, splattering everywhere. The clipboard however, remained amazingly intact, stuck to his chest by the force of his own forward momentum.

Touch processed none of this, nor any of the other ponies he completely pasted on his path towards Carousel Boutique, which he arrived at within a couple minutes. Of course it wasn't his intended destination, merely the direction he'd happened to run, so he blasted through the door like an Israeli bullet through the head of an innocent Palestinian child, or perhaps even far more accurately, like my cum into a tissue.

He hurtled through the building amidst the splintering wreckage of the door he'd exploded, ultimately crashing into the far wall. Finally he'd come into contact with something strong enough to halt his forward momentum.

"You've got a lot of nerve appearing out of nowhere and destroying my belongings," chastised a voice just outside of Touch's line of sight. It sounded like the annoying voice of a stupid bitch, laced with arrogance, and just a little accusatory. Still though, a stranger did just commit breaking and entering followed by vandalism, so give her a fucking break.

Touch didn't process what she was saying, there were three three syllable words too many for there to be any hope of that. Still, he knew the sound of anger, and this was definitely it.

"Sorry," muttered Touch, though he didn't know what he was apologizing for.

"Sorry doesn't fix my door," the posh Pony replied, "heavens sake, what are you even doing here anyway?"

Touch scrambled to his feet.

"Shrug." stated Touch Down,and his body shrugged, expressing a feeling with which he was all too familiar: confusion.

The pony, who if you haven't figured out by now is Rarity then what the fuck is wrong with you idiot, sighed, before she noticed a clipboard among the wreckage. This wasn't her clipboard. She could tell because it wasn't adorned with a bunch of stupid trinkets and ribbons and shit.

She levitated it up to her face with her horse witchcraft, quickly skimming the little paper clipped inside.

"Ah, I totally forgot I even submitted for an assistant. I've just been slaving my daughter Sweetly Bells."

She then looked to Touch Down.

"Still though, I'd love to work with a famous hoofegg player...but you're Applejack's boyfriend," she wrinkled her brow, like my balls wrinkle as I cum into a tissue, "but you did fuck that dead body on HV, maybe you have an open relationship."

She licked her lips at the prospect of taking Touch's three and a half inch cock for a mind-blowing twenty-eight seconds. That was the second-longest fucktime in Equestrian history, and the second was a myth, of unbelievable proportions. Speaking of unbelievable proportions, she was absolutely fixated on the pectoral delight that stood motionless before her. It was getting harder to be upset about that door.

"A thought occurs," she mumbled dimly, "all I've ever seen from you is freakish displays of speed and strength. That's all very sexy but sewing is a delicate art, not fit for such brutal domination."

"I think instead of trying to get you to sew I'll keep doing what I've been doing and just have Sweetly Bells do it." Rarity then called out for her daughter, "Sweetly Bells! Chop chop, and mommy makes pork chops!"

"Coming, my mothaaah!" came a raspy, wet shriek from somewhere in the house.

Rarity turned happily toward the open doorway that lead into her kitchen, through which waddled her beloved little daughter.

"W-what do you require mothahhh?" she barely burped through her sagging lips. It wasn't just her lips though, indeed her entire body "sagged." Her skin didn't wrinkle, rather it drooped in separate layers that were wrinkle-esque, but much too deep, more akin to a roll of fat, though that description was indeed also partially incorrect. She wasn't fat, that was plain to see from the visibility of her spine, which bowed sharply in the middle like a rope bridge bearing too much weight. Her hip bones and the vertebrae up the back of her neck jutted out jaggedly as well. She looked like both a blob and a skeleton.

"Make a couple dresses for mommy please, and I'll make you delicious pork chops."

Sweetly's normally half-lidded eyes slid open all the way, and her lips curved upward, in a manner that could almost be described as smiling.

She scampered over to a single dingy sewing machine, which sat next to a tripod-display which bore the blueprints of Rarity's latest fashion masterpiece. In an instant she memorized the image and destroyed it, ensuring only she and Rarity could ever know the design before completion and release. Although now that there wasn't a door anyone could just walk in after she finished one dress and kill her, steal the dress, replicate it, and make millions of Kronor, I mean bits.

"I actually do have a job for you, big boy," Rarity said as she lead Touch Down through her kitchen towards the backdoor of her house.

She pushed it open, leading outdoors. Her backyard was surprisingly large, and in the middle rested a colossal mud puddle, which housed several happy pigs, who sloshed about with glee, protecting themselves from the harsh rays of the creepy baby sun.

"I usually have to do this part myself, but I saw on that clipboard you managed to kill every animal Fluttershy was assigned in an astonishing amount of time," she gushed, gazing into Touch's eyes, which were blanker than a canvas at the start of a Bob Ross video. Through this she realized he wasn't processing a single word coming out of her mouth, "uhhh, simply put, kill pigs, get sex."

Kill pigs, get sex. Finally Rarity was speaking Touch Down's language: sentence fragments comprised of one-syllable words.

Touch grinned. He knew how to kill. He knew what pigs were. He definitely knew what sex was. This wasn't an order that fell in line with his hoofegg-oriented lifestyle, but it was one he could carry out with ease nonetheless.

"Stomp pigs." Commanded Touch Down.

Immediately his horse feet began stomping with the force of a hydraulic press, sinking several inches into the dirt through sheer power alone. He dashed forward as he did so, leaving a trail of holes perfectly punched into the ground behind him as he approached the cute, happy little pigs. Naturally,as pigs do, they looked at the loud, lumbering giant before them and got scared, opting to sprint away as fast as their stubby legs could take them.

Of course it was all for naught. Touch was certainly faster than any pig. Soon enough he'd caught up to one of them, and his hooves stomped through its entire body, encountering little resistance even from its hearty skeleton. It punched the hole cleanly, to the point of artificiality. Were an autopsy to be performed on the pig, they would most likely assume the hole too perfect to be made by any living creature. They'd deduce it to be the work of some horrifying machine.

Such was the frightening precision with which Touch carried out his brutal assignment,not stopping until the pigs were all dead, and his legs were stained red.

Rarity was gushing, this time from her big pussy instead of her big mouth.

"My word you are something extraordinary," she practically moaned as Touch walked toward her with a smirk on his face, like he'd just scored a touchdown.

"Sex." Touch replied, his gargantuan three and a half inch wiener bulging confident beneath him.

"After pork chops," replied Rarity, but Touch hadn't been talking to her. He'd been talking to his own body, which wasn't particularly interested in "after pork chops."

In an instant Rarity was underneath Touch. She felt small.

"Hey now, I understand your eagerness but Sweetly NEEDS those pork chops" Rarity pleaded. But Touch doesn't know what "pleaded" means.

Holding Rarity in place effortlessly with a single foreleg, Touch heaved forward as hard as he possibly could. The sound that accompanied their bodies meeting at the genitalia was not the gentle "slap" one would expect from new-found lovers, but rather a bone-chilling "clack," like two rocks smashing into each other.

Rarity's vision was speckled with purple dots, and her breath caught short for a few seconds. It felt like she'd been hit in the pelvis by a sledgehammer. So great was the pain, she couldn't even register the fact that a penis was inside her at all. One thrust had almost caused her to pass out.

Unfortunately for her, she was going to have to withstand at least another twenty-eight full seconds of thrusting at an average rate of twenty thrusts a second.

"gaaaauuugghh," gurgled Rarity as shock and pain took possession of her faculties. Her tailbone had already been pounded into gravel.

Twenty-five seconds to go.

The "clacking" sound from earlier was louder and more frequent than before, but it was accompanied by various creaks and cracklings, which only amplified with every thrust.

For a few seconds, the force of Touch's humping chipped off pieces of Rarity's hip, either lodging somewhere in her flesh, or occasionally popping through the skin and dropping to the floor.

Twenty seconds left.

By now Rarity had lost control of her bowels, and Touch grunted with appreciation as he felt his pubic area being coated in a pleasing blanket of the pretty mare's shit. He loved it when Applejack did this. Applejack was strong though, built like a tank. Her life consisted of waking up early in the morning to kick trees all day, and as a result she unarguably had the strongest hips in all of Equestria. Perhaps the only hips tough enough for Touch to have sex with without crippling for life.

Rarity, by comparison, may as well have had hips made of balsa wood.

With a sickening "crunch" her hipbone split in half, and Rarity flopped to the ground, or she would have were Touch not holding her up and fucking her to death.

Instead, she stayed where she was, except now she had a broken hip, which was only getting worse as Touch Down crushed and crushed. Soon enough her hip was in three pieces, then four, then eight, and so on until it was a bag of calcium-rich dust.

Finally, Touch Down reached his climax, blasting spray after spray of watery, yellow semen onto his partner, which punished the room with its repugnant odor.

By the end of the thirty seconds, Rarity's entire mass had been reduced to a limp, leaking sack of jagged gravel, akin to a beanbag chair. With her white-furred skin roiling amorphously around the dusted bones and misplaced organs within, she looked almost like a wadded up tissue, right after I've finished cumming into it.