Dust

D U S T

mi·cro·scop·ic

mīkrəˈskäpik

adjective

1.so small as to be visible only with a microscope.

Not good. Nope. This was not good. Dust Mite let out a loud yelp, with all of his might coming to a halt in mid-air to try and fight back at the current that was tossing him about as if he were nothing. Which he was in most cases, but this wasn't the time to think about that. As he hovered there, almost painfully forcing himself to stay in place as not to become just another mote at the mercy of the wind, he breathed a sigh of relief as the current slowly died down, his wings now flapping at a considerably less strenuous pace than before.

He groaned, still hovering in place, but just barely. That had left his entire upper torso and back sore, cringing with every flap. Dust wasn't used to such actions, more working along the lines of floating alone a more gentle breeze rather than get caught in one and try to fight it. This was bad.

Outside, a place he had never been, tired, confused, and with no idea how to get back home. He could make out the window in the distance, but it was closed now. Just great.

As Dust tried to conjure an idea on just how to get back inside, he heard and felt a rumble right behind him, almost entirely unaware of it given how lost in thought he was. Maybe try heading for the window again. Surely he could find a crack to slip through or under. Or, if he was willing to rest and regain his strength, make a path to the front or back door and slip under the bottom. Then he would at least be in familiar territory. But by that point, he would be too tired to make the trek through the house . . .

Just as the thought crossed his mind to hitch a ride in the mailbox and wait for somebody to pick up the mail, one extra small package along for delivery, the rumbling grew louder, more powerful, until he could feel it rattle deep in his bones.

And then, something heavy smacked into him from behind. Really not prepared for that. At all.

A stallion grumbled to himself, scratching his back as he used his other hand to block out the sun from his eyes that streamed so brightly overhead. He hated waking up early, especially after a long night's work, but he had to get his paper. It always ended up missing somehow if he got up later in the day to retrieve. He always blamed that grey mare with the bubble flank.

He was of a older in his twenties sort of age, muscular body just making that process from tight and young to leaning towards the older side, with fur of brown and splotches of white here and there.

Land Trotter sighed as he walked across his front lawn, treading sleepily with bleary eyes, half naked in just his boxers. It was early in the morning, so nobody would see, and he really didn't care either way. Besides, he rarely saw his neighbors anyway. A family supposedly lived next door, but all he ever saw was a young filly and a budding stallion leave every once in a while. Supposedly there was a mother, a father, and another middle child, but they were never seen as well. Incredibly odd, but not worth investigating. Land liked to keep to himself just fine.

He reached his mailbox, opening it tiredly and pulling out the paper, glad to see that it was actually there this time, turned around, and headed back to his house.

Everything went topsy-turvy once the massive object struck him behind. It was as if he had been hit by a moving continent with the rolling thunder it created, the momentum sending him flying forward only to fall back down onto something incredibly solid. Dust laid there for a moment, briefly noting the echoing quakes of hoofsteps in the distance, then shuddered and cringed, feeling a fresh jolt of pain surge through his back. Groaning, he sat up, cautiously looking over his shoulder and wincing.

His right wing was bent at an awkward angle, the bone poking just underneath the skin, making him hiss at the sight of it. Must've broken it the moment he collided with whatever smacked into him. Taking deep, heavy breaths, Dust somehow forced the broken wing to bend back in and fold against his body to keep it from moving too much, lest he risk injuring it even further.

Standing back up despite the growing soreness in his body, he had to look around and take stock as to where he actually was. Obviously some pony had come up from behind and he had landed on their body, but who and where exactly? If he was quick, he could possibly manage to survive, and maybe even end up back home. It wasn't likely however, as situations like this tended to go terribly wrong for him . . . always.

The ground beneath his hooves was fleshy and brown, appearing soft yet somewhat firm was well, the texture riddled with criss-crossing etch lines and pores of various sizes. Some he could slip his hand into, others stretched into massive canyons and valleys in proportion, which he could easily fall into and get lost. Past the horizon of brown, fur shot up of a darker brown, stretching to the sky, and if he looked up, looming past the obscuring strands of fur, he could make out a thick, chiseled underchin of the unaware pony above. Apparently male.

Piecing the process together, Dust blushed as he realized where he actually was.

"Hmm?"

Land Trotter paused, about to walk up the first step up the porch before he began to feel a strange sensation. He peered down towards his torso, a small, almost pleasurable sensation emitting from his torso. Now what was this then? He was about to head inside, enjoy a cup of coffee with his paper and this oddness happened. He lifted up a finger, grazing his slowly erecting nipple.

"I can't believe I'm doing this . . ."Dust sighed to himself as he went on doing it. He was on his hands and knees, slowly rolling over and kneading the flesh beneath him in a deep massaging manner, working and pressing as hard as he could. His efforts would not go unrewarded however, as a slow rumble began to build up beneath him, akin to an earthquake about to happen. It quickly escalated as he held on and continued to rub, the very landscape itself seemingly growing, doubling, tripling, quadrupling in size to the point of many, many miles adding onto its position.

Eventually the quaking subsided, leaving Dust Mite atop an entirely changed plain, the ground beneath him now even firmer yet still somewhat pliable if he added a bit of pressure. His work was not yet done, as a messenger from above alerted him that the god he stood upon had noticed him. A shadow came over him as well as the entire land on which he stood. Gazing upwards, the blurry sky became brown as a fingertip slammed down on top of him, momentarily mushing him deeply into the nipplescape, embracing him in its warmth before lifting up, Dust now stuck to the tip of the appendage.

Wind whipped by him as well as hundreds of miles of the rising body in which he passed, leaving behind the nipple and viewing the rest of this titan's torso, then neck, muzzle, and finally eye. He just hoped . . .

No.

And then the wind that commanded him, his pitiful size forever at its mercy, lifted him up with just a mild just, ripping him from the finger that could have been his salvation. Uttering a cry, he was sent along another draft that would go unnoticed by those larger, sending him off into the wild unknown, except this time he had no way in which to fight back or control where he went with only one working wing.

As he zoomed away, flailing about helplessly, Land Trotter looked down at his finger in confusion. "Huh . . ." He could have sworn he heard the tiniest yelling ever as well as something almost pathetically minuscule atop of his finger. Oh well. With a shrug he went back inside, still rubbing his erogenous nipple slightly, having enjoyed that feeling from earlier.

Dust tried to remain calm, but as everything whipped around at a speed in which he could not comprehend, one would find it hard to steady the beating of their pounding heart and hyperventilating lungs. This was it. He would never be able to return home now. He would be forever lost out here, to die out here, afraid and forever small and . . .

As these gloomy thoughts raced through his mind, he slammed into another colossal wall of a size that which stretched far beyond the sight he held. A wall of blue.