Between Two Nuts and a Hard Place

Big Mac’s next stop was the Ponyville Market. Buck some apples, sell some apples. The Apple family motto was nothing if not simple.

Caramel had managed to snag a comfy spot atop a basket of apples, nestled up right between a plump Yellow Delicious and an absolutely mouth-watering Gala Apple. He took a long, slow sniff of the apples’ fruity scent, and couldn’t help but compare it to Big Mac’s musk, which had long been infused with the earthy scents of the farm. The sweet upturn to the big stallion’s otherwise rich, masculine smell… Caramel would have shivered with delight had his stomach not rumbled just then. He paused, then chuckled. It looked like he wasn’t just hungry for giant red hunks. Tummies had to be fed just as much as libidoes.

With the giant cart rumbling beneath him, Caramel made a rather enjoyable brunch out of the Gala. Admittedly, it was a bit difficult to handle, what with the apple being bigger than him (though he couldn’t help but recall, with a bit of a sexual thrill, that Mac’s own “apples” were even larger still), and the skin was surprisingly tough to break. Soon enough, though, he was munching happily on the sweet apple flesh, making an entire meal out of what would have been—for any other pony, at least—a single bite. By the time he’d finished, he was sticky, a bit tired, and full. It was an increasingly common ending to his encounters with giant apples—or Apples. Though not, he supposed, completely full—at least, not in all the ways that mattered.

Caramel patted his belly, wondering what it would be like to feel Mac’s cum sloshing around inside him instead of apple pulp. He felt a momentary pang of regret for not guzzling down any of Big Mac’s oversized orgasm the previous night—even a single drop, he thought, would have been enough to satiate him. Given the size of Mac’s fuzzy orbs, he had little doubt that a good rutting at normal size would leave his knees wobbling and his belly bulging to his thighs. At an inch in height, though...a mere tablespoon of spunk would easily leave him groaning with fullness, his gut big and round and sloshing with barely even a hundredth of Mac’s full load. Caramel sighed happily, idly stroking his crotch as the cart rumbled on.

They arrived at the marketplace soon enough. Caramel was a bit disappointed when the cart’s sudden stop interrupted his fantasizing, but was more than happy to see the object of his lusts trotting over to the wares. While Big Mac was occupied lifting a basket of Red Delicious out of the wagon, Caramel leapt from the cart. For a moment after the jump, the ground hovered (what felt like) forty feet below him—and then he was tumbling onto a wide, red plain, pulling himself to a stop by yanking on a protruding tuft of fur.

As Big Mac worked, setting up the stand and arranging the wares, Caramel took the opportunity to have a little fun. Small as he was, there was an equally small chance of anypony seeing him, and Mac was too deliberate and focused on his work to notice the tiny little stallion romping around on his backside.

Caramel hummed happily to himself as he traipsed across Mac’s flank. Up here, Mac’s scent mixed with a variety of other smells and sensations; in downtown Ponyville, it seemed, his was just one scent among many. Still, it was incredible how well it stood out besides, wonderful how easily the big stallion’s musk gently asserted itself above the spicy, sweet, and bitter scents mixing in the marketplace air. This far away from the giant stallion’s crotch, the full sense of his recent release was hardly pronounced—but it was there nonetheless. Caramel wondered how long he’d missed this: just how easily the scent of sex stuck to Big Mac’s big, sexy body. Unf! What a stud.

It took some effort to keep stable, but once Caramel had gotten used to the constant shifting of the “ground,” staying on was almost easy. He jumped playfully across Mac’s back as the big stallion’s haunches flexed beneath his hooves. Watching—and feeling, too, with his entire body—that hunky body flex and bulge and ripple beneath him was an experience. Mac’s flank especially was incredible. On any other pony’s flank, he’d expect the ground to be plush and doughy. Big Mac’s, though, felt like solid earth. On a whim, Caramel decided to stand parallel with Macintosh’s spine, pointing his rump toward his tail.

He glanced over his shoulder. Caramel’s slender waist flared out into a pair of wide, feminine hips, complete with a soft, bouncy ass that had long been his pride and joy. By contrast, Big Mac’s massive rump was firm, muscled, even. His cheeks were tight enough to bounce a bit off of; years of applebucking had clearly left their mark, sculpting a flank so thick, so strong that it might as well have been carved from stone. Or, Caramel thought, chuckling, an apple tree.

He waggled his butt a little bit, still mentally comparing the two. He giggled, watching his two plump cheeks bounce and sway as Mac’s flexed and clenched. There was no comparison, really—but he hoped that Mac might get as much enjoyment out of his own tiny (if chubby) butt as he’d get out of the red hunk’s own ironclad bottom. Caramel reached back and gave his buttcheeks a slap, blushing as he imagined Mac doing the same. Oh, the things he’d let that stallion do to him—or the things he’d let that stallion’s flank do to him. Mac’s descending rump may have been a specter of terror to a tiny Caramel, but he had no doubt that a normal-sized him would gleefully cum to getting crushed by such a perfect, chiseled ass.

And—speak of the devil. With a much higher perspective, Caramel was much more aware of Big Mac’s movements when the larger stallion began to lean back into a sitting position. He clung to a tuft of fur, leaping off only when his target was clear. The tiny stallion landed with an “oof,” bouncing on the top of the barrel that Big Mac had made his seat. Caramel rubbed his head, silently grateful that his reduced weight meant he fell much easier.

Down here, he could see Big Mac looming over him, the giant red hunk’s shadow overcasting Caramel’s entire body. A Cutie Mark more than three time’s Caramel’s height flexed just above his head. Thankfully, Mac’s gaze was directed straight forward, away from the miniature stallion now crawling over his leg.

Caramel heaved himself over Big Mac’s thigh with a grunt, bearing a very specific destination in mind. Spotting Big Mac’s black sheath, he licked his lips and hopped down onto the surface of the barrel. Big Mac’s muscular thighs rose up on either side of him, the warm darkness beneath the apple stand already suffused with the mighty stallion’s musk.

Mac’s stallionhood rested comfortably on the barrel, his hidden shaft resting comfortably atop his nutsack. His testicles may have been emptied earlier, but it looked like they’d already refilled; a pair of plump, musky orbs squished against the sides of Mac’s legs. Caramel eyed them lustfully, savoring the moment, then stepped forward.

Pressing his head up against one of Mac’s nuts, Caramel could feel the gentle sloshing of seed within. He nuzzled the huge, fuzzy ballsack softly as he stroked his own stiffening erection. He could hear the cum churning in those plump orbs, ready to fill a needy little sub—or wash him away in a flood. He was horny from the sight of Big Mac’s massive package already, and he wasn’t about to turn away another opportunity for some fun—not when the big stallion had so obviously presented himself.

He couldn’t resist humping them for a bit, letting his mind drift back into fantasy. He remembered Big Mac humping his pillow, the big, horny stallion letting some steam lose with an imaginary “partner”—a partner that, Caramel recalled with a smile, had been him.

But where Mac could easily dominate a pillow, Caramel found himself nearly overwhelmed trying to play with a single musky testicle. A gentle rocking of Mac’s hips easily bowled the tiny stallion over, sending him thumping down onto his plump rear with a grunt. In no time at all, though, he was at it again, his body wrapped around the fat, round, cum-laden orb. He pumped his hips against the wide, plump surface, letting his tongue hang out as he tried to rub Big Mac’s scent into his own crotch. After a few more moments of this, though, he decided that a better view was needed.

As Caramel climbed over Mac’s nuts, rubbing his little body across their musky surface, a new friend came out to play. Slowly, Mac’s shaft began to emerge from its sheath, stiffening with every jerk of Caramel’s hips against the big stallion’s balls. With his target in sight, Caramel licked his lips and slid off the plump orb, his squishy rump breaking his collision with the ground.

He made his way to Mac’s member; even half-hard, the black shaft was already fatter than Caramel’s entire body was tall, and still growing. Caramel nuzzled it briefly, then gave the massive flare a lick. A drop of precum the size of his hoof dripped lazily from Mac’s cockslit, and the horny little stallion guzzled it down eagerly.

A wicked idea struck him. Nearly giggling with delight, Caramel gave the swollen cockhead a final lick before turning his body around. Now draped over Mac’s fat nuts, the big stallion’s flare had pushed forward until it hung mere millimeters off of the ground—the perfect distance for a tiny voyeur to have some fun.

Caramel shivered as he felt Mac’s cock rubbing against his side. Another drop of precum smeared against his coat, matting the fur all along his left side. When he felt Big Mac bumping  against his flank, though, he melted, a long, horny moan of pure desire escaping his muzzle.

“O-oh,” Caramel groaned. He waggled his hips, letting Big Mac’s heavy shaft press against his rear. The fat stallionhood was near twice as wide as he was by now, but that did little to dissuade Caramel from his fantasies. He bit down on his lip, letting Mac’s flare press down against the padded softness of Caramel’s own rear. Slowly, Caramel bent his forelegs and straightened his hind legs, pushing his behind firmly against the gigantic shaft pressing down on him.

His tail wagged in the air above him. His face down, and his ass up, Caramel groaned happily as he felt Mac’s cock throb against his ass. His tight little hole, barely large enough to fit a paperclip by now, puckered with glee at the titanic member brushing against it.

Far away, Caramel could hear Big Mac’s voice—speaking to a customer, no doubt. But he ignored the words, and instead seized upon the voice: those rich, chocolate-y tones that curled seductively around his heart and mind, setting his soul and libido alight with a need for big red stallion. He closed his eyes and pushed his rump further back, teasing Big Mac’s swollen cockhead with his tiny little butt.

“H-hey,” he whispered, drifting into fantasy. “A-are you sure you want to do...that, Mackie?”

Of course, Big Mac would say. His grin would be subtle, teasing, knowing: the face of a stallion who wanted to make him his mare. I know y’love it when I make you squeal.

“Oh, yes,” Caramel gushed. “I do want it. It’s just...so awfully big.” He wiggled his hips and moaned as a flap of skin around Mac’s cockslit brushed against his entrance. “So...big.”

Means you’ll squeal louder.

That face. That heated, knowing grin. That flicker of lust in Mac’s eyes. Even in fantasy, Caramel could find no way to deny him. He wanted it too badly, wanted to be made Macintosh’s mare. Oh, how he longed to be rutted—to be dominated, filled, owned.

And yet…

“But,” he said, whimpering, “it’s—it’s bigger than I am! It won’t fit!”

He could almost feel it: Mac’s warm, heavy breath enveloping his head as the big stallion leaned down to face him. We’ll just have to make it fit, he heard Mac’s words echo in his head. Don’t you want it to?

“Oh, yes. More than anything. I just—ooh!”

Caramel’s eyes squeezed even more tightly shut. The weight, the pressure of Mac’s heavy member against his rump as almost unbearable—not in a physical sense, but a purely sexual one. He whimpered again, imagining Mac’s pre-slick shaft gently pushing forward, the big stallion’s hooves spreading Caramel’s tiny ass to cover the smooth, round knob of his massive flare. Caramel would howl as he was stretched, his gaping asshole widening to make room for the incredible insertion that was to come.

“Oh, fu-uck.” Caramel squealed cutely, the imagined sensation of Mac’s shaft dominating his mind. He panted, slipping further into the fantasy. “O-oh, Mac—you won’t have room! It won’t fit!”

Caramel wailed, squirming as Mac’s stiffening shaft seemed to press even more heavily on his rump. With each new inch that the titanic stallionhood gained, he found himself pushed forward, his hooves sliding over the wood as Mac’s erection just kept on growing. He had to walk himself just as far forward, edging toward the rim of the barrel as he twisted in delight. If the titanic stallionhood behind him had noticed that he even existed, it was only because his struggles to resist were turning its owner on.

We’ll make room, he imagined Mac saying, purring sensually into his ear. A muzzle big enough to gulp him down entirely, a tooth the size of his head nibbling gently on his twitching ear. You’ll like that, won’t ya? Bein’ stretched all ‘round my cock like that.

“Ye-es,” Caramel moaned. He could see it so well: his tiny, tan body stretched around Mac’s impossible girth, every throb of the massive stallion’s erection making Caramel’s whole body thrum in response. “W-wear me like a cocksock, Big Mac. F-fill me up full. B-bulge out my belly with your huge, fat cock. O-oh—fuck me like the tiny little slut I am.”

Because that’s what he was. Caramel groaned again, the intensity of his gyrations increasing. He hadn’t touched his own needy, dripping cock once this entire time...and yet, between the vast pressure of Mac’s enormous shaft and his own fantasizing, his shaft was throbbing, tight, and ready to blow. He moaned cutely, rubbing his cute subby butt against the massive flare above him.

He was a slut—not just a tiny little one, even, but a huge slut. He would have giggled had he not been moaning so hard. The tiniest giant slut Equestria ever did see. How he longed for Mac to dominate him, to stuff him full, to flood his subby little body with spunk until he was ready to burst. He wanted so badly to take the entirety of Mac’s huge, fat cock, and Celestia damn the feasibility.

Even at an inch in height, Caramel was still the biggest bottom in Ponyville, and he wanted to make sure Big Mac knew it. He wanted Big Mac to know that he could make him his mare, that a simple twitch of Mac’s beautiful cock could hypnotize him, that he would happily, willingly service him like a good little slut should—

And then the pressure disappeared. Caramel whimpered, his dirty mind filling with images of Mac’s titanic hips pulling back, ready to slam back into him—but that moment never came. He groaned, his tiny cock throbbing as he looked back over his shoulder in disappointment.

Big Mac’s huge black shaft had been pulled back by an equally huge hoof. It left a slick of pre behind as it trailed across the giant stallion’s fuzzy thigh. Caramel shrank back into the shadows beneath the table, praying that he hadn’t been seen.

Evidently, he hadn’t. Caramel watched his oversized “toy” (in all honesty, he’d been the true toy, which he was happy enough to accept as well) pull away from him. Mac might not have noticed him, but he’d noticed his own growing arousal—and had probably decided to move his shaft to a position where it hopefully wouldn’t rub against anything else. Of course, there was the chance that Mac had decided to take matters into his own hooves, but hot as Caramel would have found the idea, there was little chance that a stallion as quiet as Big Mac would beat off under the table he was using to sell apples.

Besides, his shaft was far too long not to be seen when hard. Caramel bit his lip, feeling crushed as the source of his desires was pulled far, far away. Sighing, he plopped back down onto his rear. His still-erect cock bounced against his belly, leaving a smear of his own precum. A throb of arousal sent a surge of unfulfilled lust through his body, and he whined softly. That magnificent shaft towered over him, reaching up into impossible heights. So far away…

He could, technically, have finished himself off. But that just wouldn’t be the same. So, Caramel sat there and stared up at Mac’s fat sack, stroking himself softly, and imagining. Would Mac have pulled his shaft away if he’d known Caramel were there?

He wondered.

Unfortunately for Caramel, the rest of the day didn’t provide him many opportunities to finish off. One he’d packed up the stand, it turned out that Big Mac was busy as a bee, which left poor Caramel more occupied with tagging along than taking any “me time” for himself.

It was fine, though. Really. Whether Big Mac knew he was there or not, he just liked being with the big stallion. Big Mac’s presence was intoxicating, and not just in a purely sexual way. Caramel loved being with him—needed to be with him, even. Just holding Mac’s fur in his hooves, softly stroking the giant stallion’s flank, during a lull in activity was enough for him, boner or no boner.

Which wasn’t to say that his arousal had abated at all. Oh, no. For such a tiny stallion, Caramel’s libido was now at an all time high. Despite his seemingly limitless contact with Mac’s giant, sexy body, he found himself bereft of any time to properly appreciate it—or, more specifically, any time to finish off on it. By the end of the workday, Caramel was feeling more than a little pent-up. Two orgasms a day was usually his norm—one jerkoff session in the morning, and one in the evening. When he was with Big Mac, though…

He couldn’t entirely explain it. Just something about the big stallion’s aroma got into his system, worming its way through his veins until it wrapped around his libido and squeezed. Every inch of Mac’s studly body made Caramel want him all the more—made him want to want him. When Caramel found himself panting, a steady stream of his precum dripping down the side of Mac’s enormous shaft (his improvised transport once again), it was almost as if some tiny fraction of Big Mac’s own insatiable masculinity had seeped into him, filling him with a need to touch, to caress, to fuck.

Biting his lip, Caramel wondered just how many times Big Mac normally needed to get off in a day. He’d already seen him jerk off twice, but most of the entire afternoon had been wasted in public—and he’d gotten hard with Caramel’s teasing anyway. Just how many times did the big, hunky stallion sneak off to some corner of the orchard and fertilize a hidden grove of trees with his seed, his big balls so plump and full that they could barely go three hours without being emptied? Caramel whimpered; his own nuts had certainly filled up enough to need their own release. Big Mac’s primal, titanic presence had set his arousal alight, and nothing but a proper orgasm—courtesy of that huge, sexy body—could possibly extinguish it.

During dinner, he finally got his chance.

The buzz of the Apple family’s nightly dinner conversation filled the room. Carefully, Caramel crept out from behind Big Mac’s flank, eager for a second shot at release. Even from below Mac’s Cutie Mark, he could still see the slight bump of black marking the top of big stallion’s shaft. Evidently, Caramel’s earlier efforts had not been wasted after all—Big Mac’s cock was anything but soft. It rose up over his thighs before bending back down, and if it’d been any harder, it would have been brushing against the underside of the table. Caramel decided that he liked the sound of that.

It was only as he was clambering over the curve of Mac’s muscular thigh that he caught a single word of the conversation: his name. His ears perked up, though he lost track of the voices as he slid down the side of Mac’s leg. Once he’d landed and gotten his bearings, though, he quickly tuned back in.

“—where he’s gotten,” Applejack was saying. Her admittedly husky voice boomed in Caramel’s ears, seemingly deeper than it usually was. “He was supposed to help me out with takin’ stock of last year’s cider and just plum didn’t show.”

Caramel flushed, his lusts momentarily forgotten. Oh. Right. He had told Applejack he’d help out, hadn’t he? And he’d just left her in the lurch without him. Admittedly, he had been a bit too small to really help at the time, but…

“He didn’t?” Mac’s rich, familiar voice filled the air. Caramel almost winced. Oh, no. Now Big Mac was going to think he was a slacker, a no-show, a—

“Maybe he’s sick?”

Caramel paused.

“Maybe.” Applejack didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Just wish he woulda told us, first.”

“He’s a good worker.” Mac’s voice was even, confident. Confident in him, Caramel realized. “Don’t doubt that somethin’ must’ve come up.”

Applejack sighed. “Sure.”

Caramel wasn’t entirely sure about the feeling in his chest, but it was warm, glowing, and made him feel...good. Big Mac had stood up for him. Big Mac had said he was a good worker. Big Mac had faith in him—trusted him—and even, Caramel knew, fantasized about him. Caramel’s muzzle trembled. Was it really that easy? Had it always been that simple?

The conversation turned to Apple Bloom’s new school project. Sighing in relief, Caramel turned back to his initial task. Mac’s thick shaft, tall and proud, jutted out at half-mast just above his head.

If Macintosh could stand up for him, Caramel told himself, the least he could do was give the big stallion a bit of dinner entertainment. It was his mission, he told himself, slipping back into fantasy, as Mac’s slutty little mare to make sure that the red hunk was pleasured every moment of his day.

...Whether those moments were in front of other ponies, though, probably wasn’t important.

The second he was close enough, Caramel all but leapt onto Mac’s balls. He drew a long, shuddering breath, his hooves hugging the plump sphere before him. Nuzzling against it, he would swear he could hear the cum sloshing inside. Caramel licked his lips, grinding his crotch sensually against the fat, fuzzy sack. It would be his mission, he decided, to set that poor trapped cum free—in as many productive loads as possible.

He rubbed and licked Big Mac’s nuts, groaning softly as he ground his body into the giant stallionhood before him. He worshipped Mac’s stallionhood, kissed it, let its sexual musk permeate every fiber of his being. At some point, he pulled himself up by the fur on Mac’s thigh to stand atop one huge, fuzzy orb. Caramel licked, humped, and hugged the base of Mac’s massive shaft, savoring every incredible throb of the huge stallionhood between his arms. Beneath him, his hooves sank into the plump surfaces of Big Mac’s hefty nuts, kneading them every time their tiny pleasurer rebalanced himself. He gave Big Mac’s shaft a loving squeeze, remembering the way it bulged out with seed as each oversized load rushed out its length.

Big Mac wasn’t even paying him any attention, and he was still managing to dominate the poor, horny Caramel utterly. Caramel rubbed his own needy length across Mac’s tremendous girth, leaving a smear of dribbled precum across a particularly fat vein. Stretching out beneath the table, Caramel could see Mac’s medial ring: thick, round, and huge. He whimpered softly, still rubbing himself against that titanic shaft as he imagined what it’d feel like to have such a monumental ring pushing against his back door—at normal size, or even at this height.

A shift in weight was his only warning. Caramel glanced back over his shoulder, pulled from his sexual haze by the rumbling of the “ground” beneath him. He could make out Big Mac’s shaft, near fully hard and dripping pre onto the kitchen floor below. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized that it was finally pressing against the bottom of the table.

A shadow fell over him. Caramel glanced up—and nearly yelped in fear. A vast red hoof was slowly descending from the heavens, a natural disaster ready to crush him. He didn’t know where Big Mac thought it was going, and tried to push fantasies—of actually letting that big, muscled god crush him like the bug he was—out of his mind. Even in the fog of complete sexual lust, Caramel had some sense of self-preservation.

He leapt for it, diving for the first escape he saw. That escape was a depression in the wide, red arena surrounding him. It pressed against a tall, bright red, fuzzy “wall”, but was easy enough to slip through. It was only when Caramel had already begun to slide into it that he realized that he’d dived for the edge of Big Mac’s ballsack.

The edge that touched against his thigh.

Caramel’s little legs wiggled, his tiny rump flexing as he tried to push himself out. All that struggling, though, only served to push him further down. Caramel gurgled, whether with happiness or fear, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he was caught—trapped between Mac’s swollen testicle on one side, and his thigh on the other. Big Mac’s body heat was stronger than ever down here, his sweat mixing with Caramel’s. Every struggle to pull himself free simply slipped and slid off the surface of Mac’s flesh. He took a deep breath, his lungs filling entirely with Mac’s heavy, masculine scent.

The skin across Mac’s ballsack may have been soft and plush, but the part of his coat stretched across his thigh was absolutely taut, bulging with muscle and definition. Even sitting down, completely relaxed, Big Mac’s beautiful body felt like it was hewn from stone, a perfect stallion with a perfect physique. Caramel groaned, his tiny body trapped between the plump, sloshing testicle on the one side, and the tight, utterly solid thigh on the other.

With his cock pressed right up against Mac’s thigh, Caramel could feel every twitch, every flex of the giant stallion’s muscles in a way that he never could have imagined before. His whole body felt it, his tiny little shape squeezed right in between the two greatest symbols of Big Mac’s stallionhood. And oh, what a stallion he was. Caramel moaned, his hips jerking. He found himself drowning in the weight of Big Mac’s presence.

For the second time, he was utterly surrounded—utterly dominated by the physical weight of the bigger stallion; he was trapped, encapsulated, owned in a way that surpassed the merely physical. Without any effort at all, Big Mac had trapped Caramel utterly...and the little stallion loved it.

Caramel spent the rest of the meal there, squished between Mac’s nuts and his muscular leg. There were only two sounds he could hear: his own needy pants, and the constant churning of Mac’s hefty orbs. More cum, he thought to himself. More cum. Fill up with seed—press me against your muscles. Shove me into your thighs. Let me feel your strength, your virility, your sex. In those moments, there was no separation between him and Mac at all—just a single, massive body, and a smaller, heaving one, humping and grinding wildly at the larger’s muscular form.

When Caramel finally came, it was with the force of a rocket. He moaned into Mac’s thigh, actually biting down on the taut skin he found there. Even with all his strength, it was doubtful that Big Mac felt a thing—but Caramel certainly did. His hips jerked, his body writhed, his cock throbbed. Drop after drop of his tiny, pitiful load splattered against Mac’s leg and oozed slowly down, his entire load leaving a stain barely the size of a single droplet of Mac’s own pre.

As Caramel came, he could feel the churning of Mac’s balls grow louder.He thought he could even hear it, a vast ocean of cum swirling and thundering like the water in a whirlpool. Yes, he thought to himself, squirming with pleasure and delight. His constant motion, stimulating Big Mac’s stallionhood like the touch of a single hoof’s massage, was driving the big stallion’s arousal to even greater heights.

He finally slumped against Mac’s thigh, his chest heaving, totally spent. It was only with one last surge of energy that he managed to pull his happy, afterglow-filled little body out of that crack and back up to the surface. He gasped for oxygen, his lungs filling with cool, clean air for what felt like the first time in centuries. He felt almost disappointed at the comparative absence of Big Mac’s all-encompassing musk.

When Big Mac heaved himself out to his bedroom minutes later, Caramel tagged along, clinging to a tuft of fur just above his fetlocks. As Big Mac carefully locked his door and returned to the “comforts” of his pillow, Caramel made sure to hide himself beneath the tip of the sheets. Completely spent, he had no desire to join him, but the sounds of Big Mac’s soft moans—which were cute, no matter how deep they may have been—and the gentle grunts of his own name brought a blush and smile to his face nonetheless.

The lights went out soon enough after that. Once he was sure that Big Mac was asleep, Caramel wiggled his way out from under the covers and hopped up onto the big stallion’s torso. The steady rise and fall of Macintosh’s chest lulled him, mesmerized him, calmed him. Caramel found last night’s “nest” easily enough and spent a few pregnant moments just stroking it softly, humming to himself.

Finally, he decided that it was time to join in. Tuckered out from his long day, Caramel just curled up on Big Mac’s chest and tucked himself in. Tired, but comfy and safe, Caramel cozied up against a tuft of chest fluff, gave Big Mac’s fur a kiss, and let his eyes slowly close.

Good night, handsome, he told Big Mac silently. In those few, drifting thoughts before sleep, he made his decision. I’ll tell you in the morning.

I promise.