Between Two Nuts and a Hard Place

Everything was so big.

Well, of course it was. He was small. All the same, Caramel couldn’t help but stumble a bit as the enormity of the Apple family house rolled over him. The walls stretched up on either side of him like the tallest trees—or cliffs. The ceiling felt impossibly far away. And, once every few seconds, a low rumbling shook the ground beneath him.

Caramel gulped. The entirety of the hallway—in reality, barely ten feet, but to him, it looked like nearly half a mile—stretched out before him.

Step one: Get help. Or rather, he mentally revised, get attention. But first, he needed to find somepony who could actually help him. He set off down the hall, hugging close to the bottom of the wall.

He’d walked this hallway what felt like hundreds of times, but this perspective was totally alien to him. The floor was littered with objects that, once upon a time, he’d totally ignored: a dust bunny, a gumball, a forgotten quill. A doll that Apple Bloom must have left on the ground was even bigger than he was, now. As he stumbled through the foyer, he had to step over a quarter of apple seeds lost from yesterday’s lunch, each one the size of one of his hooves. The floorboards didn’t creak beneath his hooves. The lights stretched far above him, almost like miniature suns. He couldn’t have turned to open the coat closet if he’d wanted—the doorknob towered far, far above him.

After a minute or so of this—during which he’d crossed barely a third of the hallway’s length—Caramel felt that trembling again. The floor was shaking beneath him, rumbling like an earthquake. He froze up, held his breath.

Wrong decision. A beat later, the shaking redoubled—and an enormous shape came bounding out of the kitchen doorway. Caramel stared up at it in horror as it trotted down the hallway. It was massive. It towered over him. Its eyes were hungry, its black, sharp-toothed maw slathering with drool.

It was Winona, and she was barking playfully.

Caramel pressed himself closer against the wall. He prayed, silently, that he wouldn’t be noticed. Please don’t look over here, he thought. Please don’t look. Please.

Winona paused. Her nostrils flared, her button nose twitching. She smelled something.

Caramel’s eyes widened. Oh, no. She smelled something alright. She smelled him. Since he’d started coming over here as a colt, Winona had always caught his scent the instant he’d stepped through the door. She would jump on him, lick him, bark at him playfully. Only at this size, there would be a whole lot less play involved.

His head whipped around frantically, searching for an exit. There—a closed door, the crack beneath the bottom just barely tall enough for him to squeeze through. At the exact moment his eyes locked onto his point of escape, Winona whined softly.

She’d seen him.

“Easy, girl,” Caramel mumbled. He turned slowly to face the door. No sudden movements. “Easy…”

Winona barked—and ear-shattering, booming bark—and the spell was broken. Caramel made a break for it. He felt like screaming, his tiny legs galloping beneath him as he ran full speed toward the door. Behind him, he could feel the floor shaking, Winona’s eager barks filling his ears completely.

Just when he thought he could feel her hot breath on his neck, he darted for escape. He slid beneath the door—and Winona slammed right into it. Caramel didn’t stop at first, instead continuing to run until he collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving.

Behind him, a giant paw almost as tall as he was pushed under the door, then slapped around impatiently. Caramel ignored the soft whine coming from the other side. He was too busy staring up at the stallion whose room he’d stumbled into.

To other ponies, Big Macintosh had well deserved his name. He was easily a head taller than almost all anypony who wasn’t an alicorn. He towered over mares—and stallions with mare-like figures like Caramel. Years of farm work had given him a physique that just rippled with muscle. In every possible aspect, Big Macintosh was...well, big.

Now, he was a titan.

Caramel stared, his jaw slowly dropping as he watched the gargantuan red figure move far above him. The sound of a faraway waterfall filled his ears—at least until he realized that Mac was bent over his washbasin, and was simply washing his face. Beside the basin lay Mac’s collar, carefully removed and set aside for tomorrow.

Finally! Somepony who could help him! In his surprise and joy, Caramel couldn’t keep from shouting for Mac’s attention. He jumped up, hollered, waved his hooves—but Mac didn’t notice. Caramel was just too small. He might have well have expected Macintosh to hear him from a mile away. The dull roar of water filled his ears—each droplet of water splashing in the basin made more noise than even he could muster. Caramel shouted until he was red in the face, and it still did no good. He finally fell back down to his hooves, panting.

The floor shook as Big Mac turned away from the basin, his mane and face flecked with water. The shaking redoubled, Caramel struggling to stay upright as the big red stallion made his way over to the door.

Caramel pressed himself against the wall as Mac pulled the door slightly open—was he going to let that hellbeast in?—and sighed with relief when it clicked shut once more. This time, Mac reached up and turned something in the doorknob sideways as well. There was a click. A lock?

Macintosh made his way over to the bed. He stared at something on it for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a pillow. He sat down on the bed, the pillow cradled gently in his lap.

Another check toward the door. Once assured it was still closed, Mac exhaled, licked his lips, and turned back to the pillow. Feeling slightly confused, Caramel watched as Big Mac lay a hoof on the soft pillow and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, there,” Macintosh rumbled. His rich, earthy tones were like silk to Caramel’s ears. He hummed softly, stroking the pillow with a motion bordering on tenderness. “How you doin’, cutie?”

Caramel blinked. What was…

“Mmff.” Big Mac shifted his weight on the bed. A blush came over Caramel’s face when he realized that Macintosh had pressed the pillow against his crotch. Was he…?

”You’re a pretty lil’ thing,” Mac murmured. His eyes were closed, and both his hooves were hugging the pillow to his lap. Caramel’s blush deepened when he heard Mac moan slightly.

Something was poking up over the top of the pillow: something big, fat, and black. Caramel stifled a gasp when he saw Big Mac’s erection pushing past the soft fabric. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was intruding on something very...personal.

Mac’s hips jerked slightly, grinding his stallionhood against the pillow. Caramel shrank back, his haunches pressing against the collar as he tried to process what he was seeing. He’d wanted Macintosh—dreamed of this scene—but this felt like an invasion. Surely he shouldn’t be watching this?

The steady throbbing between his own legs argued otherwise.

“Mm.” Macintosh nuzzled the pillow softly, once more pressing it against his erection. His member stood nearly a dozen times larger than Caramel himself did. “You’re so soft.”

Caramel swallowed. He tried to ignore the stiffness at his own crotch. For an instant, he wondered who Mac was fantasizing about—and then instantly regretted it. Surely it was a mare, and a cute mare at that. A pretty one. Of course it wouldn’t be Caramel. Big Mac could get any filly he wanted. Who was it? Rainbow Dash? Fluttershy? Cheerilee?

“Mmff.” Mac grunted again. His huge cock was pressed into the pillow, precum smearing against its surface. The front side was already damp and stained with the big stallion’s arousal. Caramel barely registered his own growing need; he was already teetering on the edge of fear, waiting for Mac to say a name and break his heart.

How arrogant could he be, to even imagine that Macintosh belonged to him? Big Mac was a healthy, virile stallion with his own wants, his own needs, his own desires. Caramel was just a friend—or maybe even just a employee. The shrunken stallion swallowed, suddenly feeling very small indeed.

And then—

Mac’s hips slapped against the pillow, and he bent down to nibble on the tip. “I love makin’ you squeal, you cute lil’ thing,” he murmured, his teeth held delicately around the edge of the pillow as though it were an ear. “And you like squealin’. Don’t you, ‘Mel?”

Mel.

Caramel’s heart stopped.

Macintosh grunted. A thick glob of precum launched from his tip and splattered all over his chest. The pillow was pressed tighter than ever against his chest, sandwiching his cock between his belly and the slick, pre-soaked fabric. “Mmff. Oh, you’re so tight.”

Dazed, Caramel plopped back onto his haunches. He barely noticed when his own erection slapped against his belly, fully hard and twitching with stiffness. A thin line of pre trailed down the side of his shaft, smearing against his fur. Still staring, his muzzle hanging slightly open, Caramel unconsciously raised his hoof to his flare and began to stroke.

He took a deep breath—and almost moaned. A thick, rich smell filled his lungs. It was strong, masculine, powerful. Each thump of Mac’s hips against the bed sent a thump through the floor, leaving Caramel’s whole body vibrating, even at this distance. His hoof still around his cock, Caramel was reminded of just how utterly Big Macintosh owned this space—how easily he could dominate the air around him through size and strength alone.

Oh, how he wished he could feel himself squirming beneath that hoof, pressed against the floor by that massive, beautiful cock. Whimpering softly, Caramel squirmed even tighter against Macintosh’s sweaty collar, inhaling the giant stallion’s musk with abandon. His hoof tightened around his member, stroking it harder as he watched Macintosh finish himself off.

Mac’s nostrils flared, his eyes squeezing shut. He slammed the pillow against his hips, and then bit down on his lip. His cock tip flared, bulging before splurting several thick strands of cum over the pillow’s surface. Big Mac trembled, his hooves shaking around the pillow as his hips continued to jerk, more and more of his spunk covering the pillow’s damp, soft fabric. By the time he was done, it was criss-crossed in layers of creamy, sticky white. Caramel breathed hard, his own crotch tightening as he imagined Mac’s cum covering his own face—or, perhaps, his own pillowy flank.

Spent, and breathing only slightly hard, Big Mac lifted the pillow off of his crotch. Now completely naked, his erection was a sight to behold. Caramel had caught sight of Mac’s stallionhood before—sure; he’d stolen some glances a few times, but who wouldn’t?—but he’d never before appreciated just how big Big Mac really was. Even at his normal size, Caramel was barely half as long as Mac, who looked to have nearly a foot and a half in length. Biting his lip, the tiny stallion glanced down at his own dripping erection. He himself was smaller than Mac’s stallionhood now. Smaller than his balls, even—those plump, musky balls that would have made oranges look small. The thought scared him, but also excited him.

As Mac stood up and went to clean himself off, Caramel shrank back beneath the shadow of his collar. The scent of Big Mac’s musk hit him like a freight train, and he had to stifle a whimper as his arousal throbbed all the harder. He should be jumping, he told himself, hollering, screaming, trying to get Big Mac’s attention so that they could undo the potion.

But… Caramel realized he was blushing. This was clearly a very intimate moment. Who knew how offended Mac would feel if he knew that Caramel had been watching him? Spying on him? Getting off to his personal, private fantasies of…

...himself?

Caramel hastily pulled his hoof away from his crotch. He ignored the throb of disappointment that followed. Instead, he watched in quiet amazement as Mac wiped his cock clean, disposed of the soggy wet pillowcase into a hamper, and climbed into bed. The mattress groaned a bit beneath his weight, but Caramel had no doubt that the big stallion had experience with a world slightly too small for him.

He watched Big Mac’s still figure for a few moments more, at least until the light switched off. Then, Caramel just stood there in the darkness, silent, a warm, fluttering feeling in his chest. A rosy blush covered his cheeks, but it wasn’t entirely embarrassment this time. It was...happiness.

Caramel had made up his mind. He was going to wake Macintosh up and tell him what he thought. Maybe not what he knew—what he’d seen—but he knew enough now to come clean. And getting a cure for his...condition was far from the last thing on his mind.

Getting up to Mac’s bed was difficult, but not impossible. A pile of stacked ledgers and an old harness provided an easy enough—if tiring—way of climbing up to the top. As Caramel heaved himself over the side, he was panting, but grinning, too. He was doing something, for once.

Luckily for him, Macintosh was a very still sleeper. Caramel just crept over the big stallion’s slightly lumpy form, silently thankful for the lack of crushing hooves above and around him. He’d never walked across a sleeping pony before—heck; he’d never even touched a sleeping pony besides his mother as a foal. The stifling warmth of Mac’s own body heat curled around him like the air on a hot summer’s day. As he neared the source, the musk emanating from Mac’s strong, virile form was so thick it was practically a fog. He had a bit of a tumble over Mac’s left knee, but when he rolled to a stop onto his haunches, he found himself sitting on Big Mac’s bare chest, the edge of the sheet mere inches away from his rear.

Big Mac mumbled something in his sleep. Caramel froze—and then relaxed. The big stallion hadn’t so much as shifted or even turned in his sleep. Instead, all he did was nuzzle his pillow a bit closer. There was a smile on his muzzle. Beneath Caramel’s haunches, the “ground” periodically rose and fell, rumbling as Mac snored.

Caramel felt like smiling back. “You...like me, huh?” he whispered. “And I didn’t even know…”

He traced a hoof through a tuft of Big Mac’s fur, his tiny limb pressing against the softness of the big stallion’s coat. For a moment, Caramel felt...peaceful. Safe. Warm. It was hard not to, admittedly, given the fact that Big Mac’s fur had wrapped around his legs, covering them like a set of warm cotton boots.

But there was something nudging at the back of his mind: a twinge, a beat of curiosity. It gnawed at the corner of Caramel’s mind where his libido was locked away, quietly sawing away at the lock there. A twitch of the meat between his legs reminded him of just how he felt about Mac—not just on an emotional level, but also a physical one.

There was that curiosity again: that creeping, gnawing desire. Didn’t he want to see? Didn’t he want to know? Did Big Mac...really need to wake up just yet? Wasn’t this his chance to experience this big, sexy stud for himself?

Big Macintosh had already gotten himself off for the night. But Caramel had received no such release. His muzzle twitching slightly, he felt the temptation grab for his thoughts—and darted beneath the sheet.

It took his stubby little legs some wiggling to push him all the way through, but Caramel was determined. He spelunked beneath the blanket, crawling atop Mac’s stomach as he made his way toward his crotch. Down here, the earthy aroma of Big Mac’s musk was stifling. Caramel took a small breath, and nearly whimpered with pleasure as pure, raw masculinity rushed in to fill his lungs. His cock, hard and throbbing, smeared a tiny trail of pre across Big Mac’s hip.

But he needed to keep going. He wanted to see that magnificent shaft for himself—up close, now that it towered over him both figuratively and literally. He needed to see, to feel, to smell those family jewels, to press himself up against the source of this rich, all-encompassing scent. In every way imaginable, Mac surrounded him, his sexuality pressing in and around Caramel from both outside and in, filling him up and pushing his helpless arousal to even greater heights.

Finally, Caramel emerged into a small cavern—a tent, really, where the blankets had been pushed up to leave some breathing room. As he pushed himself to his hooves, his one-inch body rising up amongst a sea of fur and fabric, he saw the reason for his sudden freedom from the weight of the quilt.

Even in the stifling darkness of the bed, Big Mac’s stallionhood felt like it cast a shadow over Caramel. The tiny stallion held his breath, staring up at its fat, girthy shaft. A pang of longing fluttered in his chest—and at his crotch. Mesmerized, panting slightly with arousal, he crept toward it.

It was little wonder that it was holding up the blankets. Even half-hard, Mac’s member still hadn’t retracted fully into its sheath. It pushed a good six inches above Caramel’s back, straining against the soft fabric of the sheets. A wet trail of something was smeared against the cotton; as Caramel stepped forward, he felt his hoof sink into a slightly sticky patch of fur. Evidently, Mac hadn’t done a complete job of cleaning up.

Hypnotized by Big Mac’s size, Caramel stood, trembling, staring at this specimen of stallionhood. “Hey there, stud,” he breathed, sizing it up. Mac’s shaft seemed to throb with masculinity, with power. Caramel could see himself serving that cock—that huge, massive cock. He wanted to serve it, wanted to hold it, to be pressed beneath it, to feel it against his body as Big Mac used the cute, almost effeminate Caramel for his own pleasures.

A whimper of need slipped from Caramel’s lips. Then, he leaned forward and nuzzled it softly.

Years of pent-up need, of desire, of holding back—all of it evaporated the instant his nose touched Big Mac’s enormous cock. It was like something switched off in the back of Caramel’s head, and something else entirely switched on. He felt a raw, burning, churning sense of need in his gut, and seized it with both hooves.

It came as no small surprise that Caramel’s hooves couldn’t reach all of the way around Mac’s girth. If anything, Mac’s shaft was almost twice as wide across as Caramel himself. The sensation of holding onto something so huge, so powerful, something big enough to toss him off without sparing a second thought lit a flame in Caramel’s arousal. He hugged onto the throbbing length of Mac’s member, pressing his face, his chest, his crotch against it, and took a deep breath of the big stallion’s scent.

Caramel may not have been a mare, but he felt like he’d gone into heat. He moaned as his hips jerked, his tiny shaft grinding against Mac’s titanic one. All of his adult life he’d known—hoped, really—that Big Mac was more of a stallion than he’d ever be. Now, frotting their cocks together and seeing the insurmountable difference between Mac’s length and Caramel’s entire body… It made his fantasy come to life.

He groaned, squeezing his hooves tighter around Big Mac’s cock. His humping wasn’t just exciting for him, it seemed; the tiny Caramel watched in awe as Macintosh’s stallionhood swelled above his head, pushing the sheets upward, enlarging the tent by its size and strength alone. Where Caramel had struggled against the weight of the blankets, Mac’s cock surged upward, his arousal pushing, growing, strengthening with each pump of Caramel’s tiny hips.

“You’d like to make me squeal, huh?” Caramel panted. He nuzzled his face against Mac’s shaft. He pressed his own cock more tightly forward, squeezing it against the enormous organ before him. He felt each pulse of blood in Mac’s engorged cock as a throb within his own. The steady beat of Mac’s arousal beat like a drum in Caramel’s ears, the scents and sensations driving further into frenzy as he writhed against Big Mac’s rock-hard erection.

Caramel moaned, the sound coming out more like a squeak. Something hot, soft, and moist broke over his head. Milky-white trails of Big Mac’s precum streamed down the sides of Caramel’s face and chest, painting him with arousal as the little stallion groaned with lust.

Caramel glanced up. Fat gobs of precum were rolling down Big Mac’s shaft; several had broken in the crevice between his thigh and nutsack, milky-white cream pooling against bright red fur. The massive cock trembled with Caramel’s stimulation, the stallion’s cute whines and pants mixing with the invisible thump-bump of blood through Big Macintosh’s oversized erection.

He imagined Big Mac holding him in his hooves. Oh, how he’d longed for that big, strong stallion to handle him like a foal. He wanted Big Mac to hold him down, to dominate him utterly. At his size, it would take Mac barely any effort to pin him down—his erection alone would do that. Caramel’s gyrations intensified as he fantasized about being crushed beneath a dick that massive—and with a body this small. Oh, he’d be in Mac’s hooves, completely and utterly, totally subservient to his every whim. Caramel moaned, a long, throaty sound of lust as he pressed his tiny cock even harder against the vast one before him. Big Mac liked it when he squealed? Caramel would squeal like a filly on Hearth’s Warming Eve just to feel that huge, fat cock pressing up against his tight entrance.

With a final surge of arousal, Caramel jerked forward and kissed the wall of flesh before him. He latched his lips around a particularly protruding vein and sucked, tasting Mac’s smooth stallionhood as he slammed his hips at it. All the force of Caramel’s body barely made the giant organ budge an inch—but Big Mac’s resulting orgasm certainly did.

Mac’s shaft bulged against Caramel’s crotch, pinning the tiny stallion’s equally tiny erection to his stomach. He moaned, his hips bucking as Big Mac’s cock lurched beneath him. A fat glob of cum burst from Mac’s towering flare, breaking against the already-damp sheet. A shower of spunk rained down on Caramel from above, ropes of jizz as thick as his entire hoof splattering over his body and the surrounding area.

It was a flood of cum, and Caramel loved it. He felt Mac’s pleasure washing over him, bathing him, and gloried in it. Heavy strands of seed layered on his muzzle, weighing his body down—but Caramel was far too stiff to let himself be bowed. Instead, he let himself reach his own peak, his hips crashing against Mac’s fat slab of an erection as he came (what felt like) buckets all over the big, red stallionhood before him.

Big Mac’s climax, even with the stallion asleep, easily lasted twice as long as Caramel’s. By the time Caramel had finished painting a square inch of Mac’s member white, the giant stallion’s massive balls were still shuddering, churning as they output greater and greater volumes of spunk. A single drop of Mac’s own arousal rolled down the shaft, easily drowning everything that Caramel had just put out. The tiny stallion just moaned happily, slumping against the side of Big Mac’s shaft as the flood of cum washed over him.

The flood had long since stained him white, his fur sticky with what felt like gallons of cum. It may have been no more than a few strands, but to Caramel, it felt like an ocean of seed washing over him. He rolled around with it, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, bathing himself in Mac’s liquid lust. He allowed himself to fantasize, losing himself in sexual reverie. Perhaps the smell of Mac’s arousal would soak into him, permeating his fur and stifling his own scent for good. It would make him Big Mac’s mare—a permanent reminder that he would always belong to the big, gentle stallion. Caramel wheezed in pleasure, his crotch twitching again before stilling.

Finally, panting, Caramel pushed himself to his hooves. His knees were shaking, knocking together: not from fear, but from exhaustion; release; fulfillment; sheer, utter happiness. He took a moment to nuzzle against Mac’s fuzzy sack, his hooves sinking a bit into their plump, cum-laden depths as he inhaled Mac’s post-sexual scent. He couldn’t help the twitch of amusement and pride he felt in his chest. Evidently, even twice in one night wasn’t quite enough to tire out the big, horny stallion. Caramel sighed happily. Virile indeed.

Tired and sticky, but happy, Caramel crawled back beneath the blanket until he felt Mac’s fuzzy belly beneath his stomach. His head burst out from beneath the heavy sheets, and he gasped for clean air. Still, though, as he pulled himself out beneath the weight of the quilt, he felt a pang of longing for the heavy, masculine musk that had clung to the world beneath the sheets.

A yawn escaped his tiny muzzle. Tomorrow, he could try to get Mac’s attention again. Tomorrow, he could try to fix things.

But a small voice whispered into the corner of his ears: Does he have to know yet? Maybe you can just...see where this goes. You’ve spent so much of your life feeling small...but now that you are this tiny, and with Macintosh so big, so huge, so dominating—do you really mind this? Or is there a part of you that enjoys it? Cuddling up to a cock bigger than you are, covering yourself in an ocean of cum, snuggling up to a giant a hundred times bigger than you ever could be—

Caramel shoved those thoughts out of his mind. He nestled himself in the tuft on Mac’s chest, creating a makeshift nest out of the other stallion’s warm, comforting fur. He might have been a bit sticky, but he felt...secure. Safe. He spent a few seconds padding the fur around him, getting himself comfy. When he lay down, Big Mac’s fur spread out beneath him like a group of tall grasses. A yawn escaped Caramel’s lips, his afterglow beginning to spread through his veins with a golden glow.

As a wave of drowsiness washed over him, Caramel yawned again. Surely there would be time to think on it tomorrow. To talk—or to “play”—with Big Mac tomorrow. But for now...

Caramel’s eyes slowly drifted shut. As he breathed out, he could feel Big Mac’s vast, muscular chest rising and falling beneath him. Over time, his breathing evened out, the steady thumps of Mac’s heartbeat lulling him to sleep.