Mal'ko sat in the flimsy plastic chair, legs splayed and joggling nervously. He’d really hoped the Marriage Certification Court wouldn’t be so busy today.
He’d been excited to marry Taviri since he proposed, but Mal'ko had always dreaded the inevitable wedding. He’d spent his twenties seeing his friends get married off to each other, and while he was happy for their marital bliss and loved Taviri more than life itself, but weddings on the isle of Nāhua-Ihaki weddings had somehow gotten even more tortuous since their ancestors decided a ruptured testicle was a nuptial requirement.
The Pop had gone from being an organically beautiful, if agonizing, expression of a couple’s’ love into a massive, complex headache. Their tiny island nation had made the baffling decision to import the American marital industrial complex, much to the ballache of every engaged couple. Testicular Coordinators were far from cheap, but very much required for the synchronizing of various bridal and groom parties, videographers, and procuring anything from cheap but drinkable champagne to industrial-level restraints for the groom. Not to mention planning of post-pop refreshments, immediate onsite medical care, and scheduling of any pre-nuptial ballbusting or post-nuptial orgies the couple wanted to share with the inevitably expansive guest list.
When Taviri had floated the idea of a simple, courtroom wedding, Mal'ko had eagerly agreed. A quick five minute appointment, in and out, sounded so much more appealing than losing half of his manhood in front of a cheering crowd and their two respective friend groups and extensive family trees of sisters, brothers, cousins, aunties, and parents.
Of course, he knew he’d have a testicle popped. The Pop literally defined an Nāhuan wedding. And they weren't as modern as some couples: she’d still blueball him until the day of. But their brief, two month engagement was a mercy from some of his friends’ multi-year betrothals.
“Are you nervous, hon?”
He nodded and shuddered, leaning back in his seat as her hand slowly glided up and down his slick length, his cockhead tapping against his sixpack.
While Nāhuan society had discovered an iota of modesty over the years, the social expectation in the Marriage Certification Court waiting room seemed a bit more relaxed.
All around him, eager fiancée’s were taking advantage of their betrothed’s last time with a full scrotum. Next to him, a short, stacked woman eagerly bobbed up and down on her fiance’s absurdly small cock, his hands knotted through her brunette hair, popping off right as his thin thigh started to twitch to avoid letting him splatter his massive blue balls down her throat. Across the room, two more curvy females were chatting nonchalantly as their fiances each squirmed in their grasps, twin trickles of precum slicking their hands.
In one corner, a couple even chose to test the structural integrity of the flimsy plastic chairs; a massive, ropy-muscled woman was on top of her soon-to-be husband, riding him as he moaned into her deeply tanned tits. Each thrust brought another breathy squeak from her, and as Mal'ko watched, she increased her rhythm until she reached her climax; her muscly back spasmed and butthole twitched as pleasure filled her. When her hunky husband started to buck with his own long-denied relief, his face contorting with panic as his blue balls pulled up into an suddenly impending orgasm, she expertly slid off and punched the fat purple low-hangers into the plastic beneath him, keeping his own climax at bay. When he finished clutching his eggs and groaning in pain, she gently moved his hands away from his crotch and remounted her living dildo.
“It’ll be ok. I know losing a nut is going to hurt, but you’ll be ok after.” Taviri looked around the room at the dozens of couples and grimaced. “I’m sorry, I know you wanted it to be fast. It looks like everyone in the city is getting married today.”
“Yeah. It’s…it’s ok. It’s not that hard to hold back.” This was a lie; The room full of beautiful naked women jerking, fucking and sucking their partners did, in fact, make holding back his cum much harder. She lovingly circled the sensitive ridge right below his cockhead, and he moaned in frustration, spilling out a larger rope of precum so thick it was nearly opaque. She pulled her hand back and grinned.
“Still, it’s kinda fun to do this in front of everyone, isn’t it?”
He nodded shakily. Their conversation was cut off by a piercing shriek from behind the door to the clerk’s office, followed by a metallic *ding* from the screen above. The seven segment display flipped from 39 to 40.
“And now one step closer to being husband and wife.”
The door opened, and the latest newlyweds stepped out. The newly halfstrated husband was limping heavily to the right, clutching his remaining gonad like all of the other new husbands Mal'ko had seen today. His wife was grinning triumphantly, seed still dripping from her ample bosom. Across the room, the woman riding her man looked at her paper ticket, grinned, and hopped off her fiancé. She led him into the clerk’s office by his balls, taking her last opportunity to fondle the completely intact hanging pair.
The fiancée next to them came up for air again, punching her fiancé in the nuts as he whined and leaked another disproportionate spurt of precum down his modest length. “What number are you two?”
Taviri showed her. “42.”
“Oh nice! We’re 41, right before you. This is so much better than planning a wedding, right?” She looked at Taviri, but continued to pump her lover’s slick circumcised manhood closer and closer to the edge. He moaned in desperation, obviously missing the warmth of her mouth.
“Oh my god, yeah. I was my sister’s bridesmaid - it was a *nightmare*. And of *course* it’s expected that the women do everything - her husband didn’t lift a finger to help. And he was the one who wanted the big wedding! I mean, we love ‘em, but sometimes these guys have no appreciation for what we do for them. I can’t imagine anything worse than planning a wedding.”
Mal'ko could think of one thing much worse than planning a wedding. He watched the door close behind the pair that had been called, the huge, healthy pair between the man’s thighs disappearing into the clerk’s office, never to return the same.
“Tell me about it. When we got engaged, both of our families *IMMEDIATELY* decided to get way too involved. His mom insisted on having his left one popped, as is traditional. My family is a lot more modern, and we’ve always done the right one as sort of an inversion, so my mom insisted on *that*.”
“I had to threaten to compromise by popping both nuts to get them off our backs about eloping.” She snorted. “They both decided they wanted grandkids more than their ‘traditions’ after that.”
Mal'ko couldn’t take it anymore; Taviri’s thumb on his frenulum pushed him dangerously close to the edge. He keened shrilly and grabbed her arm, and she slid her fingertip into his cocktip to plug him just in time to avoid going too far. Her other hand slid below, nails digging dangerously into the back of his swollen testicles and twisting his ballsack tightly until his orgasm slid back into him. He groaned in frustration as his ballache redoubled.
“How long have you guys been engaged for?”
“Just two months. But if you listen to this guy it's been two years.” Taviri swatted her handful of manmeat affectionately and none too softly, earning a choking gasp from Mal'ko.
“Wow, just two months. Lucky guy. We've been at it for like…a year, I think?”
“One year, ten months, three weeks and a day.” Her diminutively endowed fiancée gasped, staring jealously at Mal'ko’s relatively relaxed (although still quite swollen) scrotum in comparison to his own tightly packed, royal blue pair.
“You only had to wait two - *GUH!*”
His fiancée had leaned forward again and easily taken the entirety of his dick into her mouth, barely even needing to move her head to send him into paroxysms of denied pleasure.
“Wait, you still have to make one of the inlaws happy - which one are you doing?”
She popped off his dick again, leaving it twitching, and shrugged. “I’ll just squeeze them both while I suck him and see which one I feel like popping when the time comes. I wanted to d-pose and have it be a surprise to both of us, but when we practiced he couldn’t even come close to my pussy, let alone inside.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Taviri frowned sympathetically, appreciatively gliding her hand down Mal'ko’s thick length. “Sorry you’re stuck with such a tiny one.”
“Um, actually, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ll have you know, I love my mate’s little dick. He’s great at eating pussy, and I love blowjobs way more than sex anyway.”
She wrinkled her nose at Mal'ko’s dick. “I couldn’t even fit my mouth around that thing. Gross.”
“Ok.” Taviri rolled her eyes at the short girl’s sudden defensiveness. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
The bell dinged, and the display flipped to 41. The tall, well-muscled couple emerged, both hobbling with their legs apart, eyes watering and blushing proudly. His cum was still trickling down her thigh in thick ropes and fist-sized gobs. He, surprisingly, was avoiding the temptation to clutch his broken testicle; hobbling forward, the hung stud seemed proud to show off the impressive remaining half of his manhood. The right half of his scrotum hung slack, devoid of its previous occupant.
The short couple next to Taviri and Mal'ko stood and headed inside.
“Good luck!” Taviri shouted after them. They didn’t bother turning to look back at her.
“So.” Taviri looked up eagerly at him. “We’re next.”
His leg started joggling, and she jumped back from his dick in surprise. “Oh!”
“No, I’m not close to cumming, I’m just…”
“Nervous?”
“Yeah. It’s so-”
Another piercing shriek interrupted him, and his stomach dropped. He thought he’d had more time. Mal'ko supposed nearly two years of blue balling and a tiny dick didn’t lend itself to the poor man’s stamina. The short woman emerged triumphant, holding her comatose husband in her arms like a baby. His last ball was draped over her hands, but Mal'ko couldn’t tell which testicle she had just killed. The unbruised half of his scrotum was now its natural, healthy shade of tan. Her cheeks were puffed full, semen still leaking from her lips.
She looked at Taviri and Mal'ko coolly. Her smug expression of superiority was somewhat tempered by the fact that she was still struggling to swallow her husband’s nuptial load, but she finally succeeded.
“Have fun spending an hour trying to get your guy’s weirdly giant dick to cum in there. Big guys always make you wait *forever* for the fun part.”
Taviri didn’t bother responding to the bait. “Come on Mal'ko, let’s go get married.” She led him by his throbbing cock into the office.
“Are you B42?” The chesty older clerk behind the desk droned, barely looking up at the nude couple. The marriage office was a surprisely boring place; besides the streaks of and puddles of dried and drying cum decorating nearly every available surface and a dismal sectional couch in the corner, it looked like any other beige federal office. The clerk sat behind a cheap metal desk, one end of which had a high stack of neatly stapled and labelled marriage forms. The outbox on the other side had the damp, rumpled completed forms.
“Yes!” Taviri showed her the ticket excitedly.
“Names?”
“Mal'ko, and Taviri!”
The clerk sighed. “Do you think you’re the only Mal'ko and Taviri on the island? I’ve married five Taviri’s today. What is your full name, ma’am?”
“Oh. Mal'ko Vesunako and Taviri Kaivono. But I’ll be taking his name.”
“Great. Fill these out. Ma’am, you’ll need to initial at the bottom of every page. Sir, we’ll need your ballprints for each page as well.”
He groaned. The clerk rolled her eyes in annoyance.
“It’s paperwork. Did you expect you *wouldn’t* have to sign your own marriage contract?”
“If it’s all stapled together, why do I have to do every page?”
“Do you think I make the rules here? If you want to come back another day-”
“No! No, I’ll stamp them.”
“Great.” The clerk took out the inkpad and flat, unmarked wooden stamp from a drawer in her desk. “Do you want to do the ‘prints first, or the writing?”
Taviri looked at him. “Up to you, babe. Maybe we can do your ‘prints, and then I can fill everything out while you recover?”
“Thanks,” he muttered begrudgingly. Mal'ko *hated* paperwork. What kind of society needed a single ballprint to buy a gun or register for the draft, but thirty to get married?
He spread his legs and plopped his swollen nuts onto the clerk’s desk. She looked down disapprovingly at them.
“What is that, two months of cum stuffed in there? You kids these days are so impatient.”
She grabbed his balls and smashed them into the inkpad, covering every inch of his bloated, veiny scrotum with black ink. Setting them gently onto the back of the first page, she lifted her ballprinter high into the air and slammed the wood onto his left ball, flattening it against the paper. She methodically rolled it over every inch of the massive sphere, getting all the details of his unique spread of scrotal veins and testicular ridges imprinted onto the paper. When she was sure her cruel smearing had captured the irreproducible essence of his left testicle, she slid her stamp to the right, not bothering to lift it in between as his testicles agonizingly rolled and warped beneath the pressure needed to get a perfect ballprint.
Finally, the back of the first page was filled out with his male signature. Mal’ko crumpled over the desk, holding his jewels and moaning softly, but the clerk just clutched them tighter and yanked him forward.
“Excuse me, sir, I am *not* done.” She flipped to the next page and dapped his fruits against the inkpad again to refresh the ink. He whimpered in anticipation of-
*WHAM.* Once again, his manhood rolled beneath the wooden stamp as she smeared it across the page. Mal’ko swore the edges of this ‘print were incrementally closer to the edges of the page. She wiggled the wooden paddle back and forth around the top of his, pinching the edge of his ball flat to get every bit of ink onto the paper.
Another page flip, another cruel smash and smearing. No doubt about it this time; his balls were definitely bloating with each page. He gripped the desk for stability as his legs started to give out from the burning agony that was beginning to build in the core of his gonads.
By the tenth page, he was openly weeping, clinging to his fiancée as she patted his back comfortingly. His balls had nearly exceeded the edge of the page.
By the twentieth, they were noticeably out of round. Mal’ko was openly sobbing now, and hugging Taviri for dear life. His grip on his fiancée and his nutsack sitting on the table were the only things keeping him from buckling to the floor in the fetal position; his legs had completely given out from the pain. The edge of the inky silhouettes left behind was starting to look less and less solid.
At last, the last page was stamped. The clerk let him go at last, and Mal’ko fell to the floor in a heap. The nut pain was soul-crushing; dark shadows started to rim his vision and edge inwards as the world began to fade. Before he passed out, he watched her riffle through the thick stack of papers, checking her work with a satisfied grin, the flipping ballprints making a lewd timelapse animation of his testicles gradually swelling and breaking apart.
When he came to, his fiancée was leaned over, her pendulous breasts squashed together between her elbows.
“Hey sweetie. The paperwork is all done. I filled out your piece for you.” She frowned.
“Are you ready for the wedding?”
He looked at his fiancée, her beautiful yellow eyes meeting his, and told her the same lie hundreds of generations of Nāhuan men had told their mate.
“Y…yes, I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
He got up, his organs swinging more pendulously between his legs than they ever had before in his life, and hobbled to the corner couch. Ribbons of long-dead sperm festooned the government-funded furniture; he idiotically wondered how many of them had come from organs that no longer existed. Gingerly setting himself down onto the threadbare fabric, he spread his legs and awaited his lovely fiancée.
She sauntered over, her wide, tan hips swaying from side to side as she grinned at the deliciously swollen pair of testicles he presented her. Sliding close to him, she placed her right thigh over his, just like they practiced. Hugging him close and pressing his face between her breasts, her heady scent enveloping him, she lifted her left knee onto his slightly smaller left testicle. He whimpered as she began to shift her weight forward, his hard cock throbbing with excited anticipation at its reward even as his pulse pounded in terror at what he’d pay for it. With a dick nearly as long as her thigh, he could brush his sensitive cockhead against her clit, just barely teasing the outside of her pussy. She let out her own moan, untinted by agony.
“I have been waiting for this forever, Mal’ko.” She shifted forward more, a few dozen more pounds of luscious thickness settling onto his deflating organ as her own breath grew rapid and she started to blush faintly. He clutched her buttcheeks and sobbed softly into her tits, trying to enjoy the things that made this horrible act worth the pain.
“I know this is a huge sacrifice for you.” He nodded shakily, moaning an unintelligible agreement into the vast tracts of veiny boob. More shifting weight, and his ball continued to flatten. The very edge of his cockhead started to slide between her lips.
“It’s going to be ok. I love you. I’ll always love you. It’s going to hurt, a lot, all at once. And then it’ll be over, and you’ll finally get to cum.” As if he needed reminding.
She leaned all her weight forward at last, settling every pound of her prodigious weight onto the quivering babymaker, and-
*Squick, POP!!!*
His nut finally gave way. The gonad collapsing beneath her dropped his heavy fiancée down a few inches, allowing his massive, twitchy cockhead to slide fully into her at last. The pleasure of her warm, tight pussy was everything he’d dreamed it would be.
And the pain was far worse than this worst nightmare. He choked out, throwing his head back to let out that unique nuptial cry of loss, relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. His mind began to shut down, futilely attempting to spare him the impossible high level of pain, but he willed himself to stay conscious through it for the incredible reward he was promised.
Mal’ko bucked forward, sliding millimeters deeper into her as he finally allowed himself the pleasure he’d been forced to deny for months. Burning agony screamed through his body from his ruptured testicle. She kicked her left foot out and over his thigh so her knee no longer pressed into the remains of his nut. Spasming, he grabbed his wife’s shoulders and pushed her down until her clit met his cloud of pubic hair, hilting himself inside of Taviri. He cried out as he went over the edge, the relief of his climax momentarily distracting him from the exponentially increasing pain beneath his wife’s left buttcheek. His cum filled her cunt to the brim and immediately overflowed, sliding down to adorn their thighs and spilling over to create a new stain that would never leave the couch beneath them.
On top of him, Taviri bounced frantically, quickly reaching her own climax. She squeezed him tight against her breasts and shrieked in pleasure, her staccato cries joining his own as she bucked forward, finally getting to enjoy the cock she’d been forced to droolingly stare at for months. Her motions left her sliding back and forth on top of him. Her right cheek bruised his barely healthy right testicle while her left one pulverized what little solidity remained of the destroyed gonad.
Finally, they were finished. Both were panting and sheened with sweat and cum. She slid off his cock wetly, a waterfall of semen gushing from the void left behind.
The clerk walked over to the two and casually reached between his legs, feeling his bloated scrotum thoroughly to make sure they were actually married and not just extra engaged.
Failing to find anything resembling his former left testicle, she let his scrotum drop limply.
“Mazel tov.” The clerk intoned. “You’re married. Now get out - we’ve got a long line today.”
The newlyweds hobbled out of the office as the display flipped to ‘43’, and another young couple shuffled into the office.