Anonymous asked:
I'd love to see a story about Tamyra busting some blue balls till they burst! (do I get points for alliteration at all XD? Love the content! Keep it up!)

Thanks! Alliteration is always appreciated — after all, ball busting basically begs for banter. 😜

—

THUMP-POP.

From the muffled sound and the telltale look of horror on the ocelot’s face, Tamyra immediately knew what had happened. Still, as a personal trainer, protocol demanded that she examine the injury.

“My BALLS,” groaned the male, sprawled on his back on the gym floor. To his credit, the ocelot was keeping it together better than most men did — a testament to the many hours of training he had put in with Tamyra. Still, his whole body trembled in barely restrained agony, his spread legs quivering as she inspected the damage.

With a frown, the mare pulled down the front of her client’s gym shorts and fished out his abused ballbag. The feline squeaked as she roughly palpated his fuzzy sack, hoping for two survivors. Sadly, inspection revealed just one solitary nut.

Damn it. “…Okay, yeah, it’s a rupture.”

The male let out a wordless noise of despair.

Tamyra huffed. “I still don’t know what went wrong, though — I was only kicking you at about 70%! There’s no way your nut should have given up so easily—…”

She paused, leaning in to peer more closely at the ocelot’s remaining testicle. Now that she was looking, it DID seem to have a bit of a blue-ish tinge. Curious, she took the orb between her thumb and two forefingers, giving it an experimental squeeze (and earning a frantic, pained mewl from her client). It was quite swollen — no surprises there — but also unusually firm to the touch, like a water balloon that had been overfilled.

Tamyra had seen this before.

“…When’s the last time you came?” she asked, a hint of accusation in her tone.

The ocelot let out another moan of mourning. “Al—…Almost three weeks ago? M-my wife and I are trying for another kid, and sh-she’s been teasing me all the time, but we’re only having sex a few times a month, so—”

“Well THAT’s the damn problem!” Tamyra interjected, glaring down at the stricken male. Her fingers tightened around his gonad in frustration. “You have to tell me these things! Blue balls are WAY easier to burst — when they’re stuffed full of spunk, they might as well be made of glass!”

The ocelot moaned, his cry rising in pitch as the mare unconsciously bore down on his sole kittenmaker. “I’m sorry, I’m SORRY!!” he squealed, voice cracking.

“You better be.” The mare let go of his nutbag, pulling his shorts back up. She climbed back to her feet. “Ugh. Now come on, back on your footpaws.”

“…What?” he asked weakly.

Tamyra looked down at him like he was an idiot. “You pay me for sparring lessons. One hour a week. By my count, we’ve still got 15 minutes left.”

The ocelot’s stomach was a pit of agony. His surviving nut throbbed in its sac. “But…but I don’t…shouldn’t we stop for today?”

“Who said you could quit?” The female moved back into a fighting crouch. “If you want to keep your remaining nut, you better show me how much you’ve learned.”

The ocelot shuddered…and slowly began to push himself back upright.