Between Two Nuts and a Hard Place

by Megapone

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, Romance
Length: 22689

A shrunken Caramel finds himself able to express his feelings for Big Mac in an entirely new way—so long as he's too small for the big stallion to notice.

Caramel has a thing for Big Macintosh. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tries, he can never quite seem to get the words out. Upon digging through Apple Bloom's potion stash for a tongue-loosening serum, he accidentally drinks a shrinking potion instead , and finds himself looking up at a world that's much bigger than the one he remembers.

Until he can get back to his normal size, Caramel has to stick close to Big Mac—a titan in a world of giants—in order to keep himself from being crushed. There's just one thing: given his size, Mac doesn't even realize that Caramel is there at all. The fun-sized Caramel soon comes to realize that if he's too small to be noticed, he's too small to be felt and heard, too—and both things might drive him to be a little more bold with Mac's big, sexy body than he would otherwise have ever dared.

Contains: Micro, unaware sex/masturbation, extreme size difference/frotting, and an adorable tiny slutty subby stallion. Many thanks to Unideal for doing a fantastic job of editing.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-10 23:13:46 UTC

Chapter Two: New Perspectives

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.

Chapter Three: A Day in the Life

Caramel, in contrast to pretty much the entire Apple family, was something of a late riser. On her days off, Applejack would be up at the break of dawn regardless, more than ready to seize the day. Meanwhile, Caramel would have been equally as happy to snuggle up against his pillow, curled up in his blankets like a caterpillar, and ignore the daylight outside his blinds.

As tired as he’d felt last night, it would have been little wonder if he’d slept in late. He gladly would have, too—save for one tiny problem.

It was rather difficult to stay asleep when the ground itself was shifting beneath your body.

Caramel groaned sleepily. He tried to push his head more firmly between the soft “pillows” he’d been resting it on. His eyes fluttered—then opened wide when he felt his “bed” shake again.

Crap. Right. Caramel darted to his hooves the instant after he remembered just who—rather than what—he’d been sleeping on. A plain of red fur stretched out all around him; a half-inch beneath his chin, the tufts of fur he’d believed to be “pillows” bounced a bit, the hair on Mac’s chest molded around the form of a little sleeping stallion.

Mac was shifting, groaning. His hooves tightened around the sheets, and Caramel saw his eyelids crack open a sliver. Part of him wanted to stay, to be found—and yet some other part of him wanted to scramble for cover. That other part wanted to hide, to avoid confronting Big Macintosh for a little while longer—and perhaps even to indulge in a few of the lewder possibilities opened up by being a speck on a titanic stud’s body.

Caramel had scant seconds to make up his mind. Big Macintosh yawned, his eyes squeezing shut. The sight of that vast maw opening up before him triggered a flight response in his animalistic hindbrain. Big Mac might have been a friend, but he was also currently a massive, impossibly strong giant of a beast that could crush Caramel like a bug.

That got him moving. In the sliver of time before Big Mac’s eyes could open fully, Caramel darted for cover. He wiggled his way beneath the sheets and slid into a particularly welcoming “cavern” just behind the big stallion’s thigh. He held his breath, his heart beating quickly as he felt the blankets shifting above him.

“Ah, darn.” Big Mac’s rich, rumbling voice was a comfort that Caramel was surprised to find he’d needed. It was, admittedly, muffled through the layers of fabric. It was a faraway, booming voice, which came as no surprise given the sheer difference in size between them now. “Looks like you had a fun night, didn’tcha Lil’ Mac?”

Lil’ Mac? Caramel would have snickered if it hadn’t been so adorable. And if he hadn’t been hiding. He wasn’t really in any place to judge, anyway. After all, he was even littler than Lil’ Mac.

Much littler.

There came a soft padding sound, as though Mac were stroking his sticky shaft. “Gone and ruined another set of sheets,” Mac grumbled. “Fun dreams ain’t worth the mess.” He sighed. “Gonna have to clean those up.”

The blankets ruffled loudly. Caramel caught sight of Mac’s leg shifting across the mattress and, without thinking, grabbed a hold of the nearest tuft of fur. He clung to the side of the giant’s fetlock as Big Mac pulled himself out of bed. The impact of Mac’s hooves with the floor sent shockwaves through Caramel’s tiny body, leaving him holding on for dear life. Even the smallest, most innocent of actions could now hold larger-than-life consequences for Mac’s little passenger.

Each one of Mac’s hoofsteps boomed in Caramel’s ears. As the giant walked, Caramel pulled himself up and around his leg, grunting and heaving himself up each new tuft of fur. Not for the first time, he thanked Celestia silently that Big Mac was so fluffy. Plenty of hair meant plenty of hoof-holds for the tiny stallion to use.

With some effort, Caramel was able to pull himself up over the top of Mac’s thigh—and onto the broadside of his half-erect, flopping shaft. The leap would have sent Caramel tumbling to the floor, had he not clung on for dear life. A little squirming soon found him hugging Mac’s girth as the now-mostly hard cock bounced and swayed beneath him. After that, holding on was, if not easy, a little simpler. Even the sticky remnants of last night’s pleasures worked for him, strands of Mac’s lust keeping him stuck as tightly as any glue. Caramel took a deep breath, inhaling Mac’s morning scent and loving it. Behind him, he could hear Mac’s hefty nuts bouncing with him, plump spheres smacking against each other with every step.

Every time Big Mac’s stallionhood smacked against his thigh, Caramel slid his hooves a little tighter around the bottom of the big stallion’s flare, grinding his own crotch against the mammoth meat beneath him. He enjoyed watching Mac’s flared head bounce and sway before him; even his tip alone was bigger than Caramel was. The tiny stallion felt a familiar arousal rising inside of him, and squeaked happily as he rubbed himself along Mac’s shaft to his heart’s content. At one point, Mac actually stopped and groaned softly. Caramel froze, stiffening as the fat shaft throbbed in his grasp. Thankfully, Big Mac seemed to chalk the sensations on his shaft up to standard morning wood, or perhaps some remnants of last night’s wet dream. Whatever the case, little Caramel was more than happy to remain undiscovered, and took the time to get himself comfortable.

Each step sent Mac’s member slapping against the big stallion’s belly, squishing poor Caramel against his fuzzy belly and pressing him harder against the oversized meat beneath him. He could actually feel Mac’s distant heartbeat through his belly...then much, much closer. The sensation was easily a dozen times as strong, the powerful throb of Mac’s lust travelling through his stiffening cock. Caramel himself might have been a little sore by the end of his trip, but the dreamy, satisfied look on his face made it clear that he was certainly enjoying himself.

It was hard not to. Everywhere, no matter which way he turned, Caramel looked, saw, felt, and breathed Big Mac. The big red stallion was his entire world: his cock was the Earth, and his furry red belly the sky. Each time Caramel’s muzzle was forced against the soft, musky fur of Mac’s underbelly, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the big stallion’s scent. Big Macintosh was an alpha stallion, and his musk let Caramel know it. The tiny Caramel’s new world smelled like sweat, testosterone, cum...and perhaps a faint trace of apples. He felt himself drowning in Big Mac’s presence, losing himself in a world owned and dominated by the titan’s huge, muscled body.

Because of that, though, Caramel’s vision down there was...limited. He could barely see over the sides of the mammoth member, too occupied with holding on to do much sightseeing. Only the click of a light switch told him they’d entered a new room; only the sudden fwoosh of a waterfall informed him that they’d entered the bathroom. When Big Mac stepped over the side of the bathtub into the shower, Caramel heard the rush of water hitting his broad shoulders—and then watched with awe as a pair of waterfalls fell down Mac’s sides into the tub below.

The water tension allowed droplets of moisture to run down Mac’s shaft and belly, beads and rivulets of water quickly cleaning the tiny stallion off. Fortunately, the pressure was fairly manageable; even with each of the drops coming up to half the size of his hoof, Caramel was able to wash off most of the stickiness from last night’s fun fairly quickly. Still, he was a bit reluctant to do so. He wasn’t sure he wanted to wash last night’s fun away, to cleanse himself of Mac’s addicting scent. Then again, it hardly mattered anyway. He was powerless to stop even droplets of water now—if Mac wanted to be clean for the morning, Caramel certainly wasn’t big enough to get a say in the matter.

Big Mac hummed as he washed himself, scrubbing himself with a soap bar that Caramel could only see in his mind. When Mac started to lean back, though, Caramel knew instantly that something was wrong.

Oh, no—Mac was going to clean off his dick.

He had to hide. Quickly. As the plane of Mac’s cock tilted upward, Caramel’s gaze switched from side to side before alighting on the plump, black ballsack a few inches beneath him. He slid down Mac’s shaft, the member slick with water, and landed with an undignified “oof” on the surface of one of the orbs. Just as Big Mac sat down fully on his haunches, Caramel darted beneath the base of his shaft, losing himself in the shadow of Mac’s cock.

Then—oof. A vast, crushing pressure. Caramel grunted, pressing himself tighter into the crevice between the oversized testicles beneath him. There had been plenty of room last night...but only after Mac’s copious orgasms, which had no doubt put out enough seed to satisfy the needy hunky stallion. Now, though, they’d had a whole night to churn up a new batch of cum, and were definitely a few sizes bigger than Caramel remembered...and with that much less space available to boot. Caramel found himself pushed down, his tiny body sinking into Mac’s plump, musky nutsack as the enormous shaft above him was pressed forward.

“Still hard,” he heard Mac rumble. “Time to take care of you again, I s’pose.”

Caramel could have squealed with joy as he felt twin impacts send the rock-hard shaft shuddering against his body. Instead, though, his lungs were too tightly compacted to allow him to do more than breathe; even that was a struggle, given that all he could breathe in this position was Mac’s full, overpowering musk, which was far too strong for even a good soaping to eliminate completely. Still, he felt his own, comparatively tiny erection chubbing up against the fat vein that wrapped around Mac’s base. He was trapped between Mac’s two nuts and his engorged, rock-hard cock—and Big Mac was about to start jerking off with him in there.

The resulting few minutes gave Caramel the ride of his life. Big Mac’s scent wrapped around him, holding him, owning him. The skin covering his massive cock and balls slid across Caramel’s tiny body, stimulating every point of his coat and driving him mad with lust. Knowingly or not, Big Mac had him under his total control—was using Caramel’s little body to jerk himself off. The very thought left Caramel hot and bothered, his cute little cock throbbing against Macintosh’s skyscraper of a stallionhood.

Soon, he heard Mac grunt. The thrusts and smacks of the giant shaft stopped—and its girth bulged out. Caramel whimpered as his hooves were stretched apart. He could hear each messy splat of Big Mac’s spunk against the side of the tub, each splurt of jizz firing off from his throbbing flare. He didn’t just hear Mac’s orgasm, though—he felt every second of it, magnified a hundred times in intensity. The rolling bulge of every spurt felt like a stroke against his cock, each new load of spunk pressing Caramel’s erection tighter against his stomach. It was a very physical reminder that Mac’s simple morning orgasm was already putting out more right now than Caramel himself could in a month. The little stallion moaned cutely, letting the sheer weight and friction of Mac’s spasming erection bring him to his own climax. At the last second, Mac hefted his shaft away from his balls, letting Caramel’s own orgasm fire off over the side.

Still moaning, Caramel watched the tiny droplets of his own cum mix with the thick cream of Mac’s own orgasm. He bit his lip, watching his pleasure mix with Big Mac’s as both of them mixed with the warm water before swirling down into the drain. A soft whine of satisfaction escaped him, followed by a squeak of panic as Big Mac made to stand up once again. Only his quick reflexes put him back in position, clinging hazily to the fat, black horsecock beneath him as Macintosh toweled off.

A smile crossed Caramel’s face as Big Mac made his way out of the bathroom, each thump of his hooves against the floor sending vibrations through the tiny body below. He clung even tighter around Mac’s flare. His body swayed with Mac’s cock, each wet slap of the undried shaft against the big stallion’s belly squishing Caramel again. But the little stallion didn’t mind one bit.

Still slightly damp, but once more satisfied, Caramel hugged Mac’s cock and let the giant stallion lead him out into the day.

If there was one thing that the Apple family did, it was buck apples.

Now, there was labor beyond that, of course. Apple Bloom tended to the little vegetable patch right outside of the barn. Applejack oversaw all cider and pastry production. And Big Mac—well, it had surprised Caramel when he’d found out just how good the big stallion was at balancing the family’s ledgers. He may have had a big, bulky body, but there was anything between Big Macintosh’s ears but air. He was like a dream, really: a big, sturdy hunk of a stallion, but as quick as a whip, too. The full package.

Even so, applebucking was a family tradition. And with a set of legs like Big Macintosh had, it was also a daily chore. Caramel had tried, once, and wound up tired and exhausted, with barely a basketful of apples to show for it. His slender, effeminate body was just far too weak to output the force required. Meanwhile, he’d once seen Big Mac actually topple an old tree by bucking it too hard. A smile curved Caramel’s muzzle, and he hugged Big Mac’s flank a little tighter. He could feel the muscles moving, shifting beneath the skin, an ocean of strength and power mere hairs away. It was his to hold onto, now.

Then again, that was probably because if he hadn’t been holding on, he would have been falling off. Caramel had managed to climb up to Big Mac’s back, reluctantly foregoing the other stallion’s big, musky shaft for a more accommodating view from the top. Thankfully, he was small enough that Mac didn’t seem to notice the weight, nor would he have likely noticed him upon glancing back. The little stallion was just too...well, little.

When Big Mac turned around to unhitch himself from the cart he’d brought along to carry the harvest, Caramel quickly hopped off. He hid behind one of the cart’s walls, shrinking back as Mac’s shadow swept over him. Once he was sure that the big stallion had moved away, he poked his head out again, more than ready to enjoy the show.

He’d watched Big Mac buck apples before. Once or twice, he’d lost himself a bit, staring longingly at Mac’s big, strong body pounding away at the apple trees—and wishing with a blush that he was the one being pounded, albeit in an entirely different way. Always, though, Applejack would come along, or Big Mac would see him staring and cough, or grunt, or do something else to break his focus, leaving him feeling awkward and embarrassed.

Now, though, there was no way he’d be noticed—at the size of a mouse, Caramel was just far too tiny for Big Mac to pay attention to. Thus, he was free—and happy—to ogle, watching the big stallion work as he leaned against the seasoned wood of the apple cart.

Big Macintosh was built like a tank, and each tree he bucked more than showed it. The trunk would shake, the branches fluttering as though caught in a hurricane’s winds. The raw power packed in Big Mac’s bulky frame was incredible. Caramel watched the muscles rippling around Mac’s shoulders, flexing in his haunches—and, oh, what haunches they were. Wide, powerful, and as strong as steel. He shivered. Already, he felt a longing in his chest to feel those flanks again: to grope them, to stretch his tiny hooves out to cover just one of those massive Cutie Marks, to grind himself against the landscape of Mac’s flank.

Another thud. A shower of apples fell into the baskets placed around the tree. A shudder of voyeuristic pleasure went up Caramel’s spine as he watched Mac’s flaccid stallionhood shake and jiggle with the vibrations. His own cock was slowly starting to creep up against his belly, stiffening with each new lewd thought. A faint blush crossed Caramel’s face. With a happy sigh, he slumped forward, watching Big Mac intently and softly stroking his erection.

Oh, the things he would let Mac use him for, if only he got the chance to offer. Caramel licked his lips, unable to decide between that magnificent flank...and that monstrous cock. Even at his normal size, he’d dreamed of offering his body up for Mac’s pleasure, fantasies of the big stallion’s domination flitting through his thoughts. His slender, effeminate body would twist and writhe in bed, his plump, wide-set hips squirming as he imagined Big Mac pressing him to the bed.

Mac would nip his ear, he imagined, his stallionhood pressing against Caramel’s tight entrance as his hooves squeezed the femmy stallion’s shoulders. His girth alone would make Caramel squeal. Big Mac would brush his muzzle across Caramel’s cheek, his voice low and throaty and controlling, preparing his little mare for the rutting to come. Caramel would moan cutely—he would protest at first, but would of course give in soon enough. He would whimper, he would plead, he would whine, begging for his tight little ass to be stuffed full with a real stallion’s cock—

He’d woken up to sticky sheets more than once following that particular dream...though not nearly as sticky as Mac’s had been. The blush on his cheeks deepening, Caramel hugged his erection to his chest and let his thoughts drift toward his current situation.

He had been conflicted about his smaller size earlier. Now, though, he was beginning to see the advantages. Caramel shivered with anticipation. Before, Macintosh could have pinned him down easily. Now, though, it would take but a hoof—or a broad, heavy shaft—pressing over his chest, the weight alone enough to hold him down to the ground. Caramel could squirm all he wanted, but even his greatest efforts would no longer be enough to overcome Mac’s laziest, simplest exertions. In a world of giants, he was already powerless—and Big Macintosh was a titan. Caramel licked his lips, realizing that he was panting slightly. A small drop of pre had beaded at his tip, smearing against his chest fur.

But that was thinking too small. He was small—and just being held down was possibly the least inventive thing he could come up with. Caramel grew a bit breathier, his eyes dilating as he pondered upon the possibilities his new size afforded him. Why, just one of Big Mac’s balls—those lovely, plump, massive testicles—was more than three times his size! What would it be like, he wondered, to awake each morning to a literal cum-bath, a flood of hot stallion jism that he could easily drown himself in? He could lather himself daily with Mac’s cream, doing his best to soap every crevice of his body with the big hunk’s liquid lust. Slathering his wide flank with Mac’s jizz, stroking his cheeks with gobs of spunk—oh, he wouldn’t stop until every part of him was saturated in his alpha stallion’s arousal.

To rub himself against Mac’s cock once more, to hug and squeeze it, even as Mac himself jerked off. To know that even his toughest efforts were outdone by Mac’s own skillful, massive hoof—and to enjoy the benefits of the giant’s release anyway? Caramel’s boner throbbed as he pictured a tiny stallion, once tan but now painted white, his fur thick and sticky and a happy, loopy grin on his face. To lose himself in Big Mac’s pleasure—was there any greater reward?

Unwittingly, Caramel had edged over to the very edge of the apple cart, his whole body craning forward to get the very best view. He couldn’t help it; watching Big Mac’s body work was a sensual experience for him. Those shifting muscles, that earth-flecked mane… Something about Big Macintosh’s body was just so primally male that the femmy colt found himself unable to resist. Sweat dripped down Big Mac’s forehead, beading on his muzzle as his powerful muscles readied themselves for the next tree.

So caught up in his erotic imaginings, Caramel soon found himself scarcely paying attention to the world around him at all. Big Mac could crush him beneath his flank. He could force Caramel to pleasure his tight, puffy ring with all four limbs—and push Caramel’s tiny body inside of himself afterwards. His cockslit, fat and round and drooling precum, would make the perfect fuckhole for a tiny stallion cock. Caramel’s tiny shaft would simply slide in, his passage eased by the slick precum covering the walls. Each throb of blood through Mac’s massive cock would squeeze his own miniscule member, less being fucked than fucking him, those powerful muscles drawing him in hungrily for their own pleasure.

There was a clunk in the front of the cart. A shadow dropped across the back. His eyes fluttering shut, his soft moans breathy and muffled, Caramel didn’t initially realize just how exposed he was until it was already too late.

The shadow was coming over him, blotting out the sun entirely. His eyes shooting open, Caramel saw a vast red planet descending on him from above. It took him a moment to register that one of his fantasies was coming true. It took him another moment to register that Mac didn’t even know he was there.

Panic bubbled up in his throat. Caramel’s brain wasted no time calculating or reasoning: there was a massive, heavy object descending upon him and it was going to crush him to death he had to GO GO GO—

He instinctively threw himself forward. His tiny hooves worked frantically, pushing off of the cart’s bottom as hard as they could. Caramel saw himself clear the edge of the enormous flank—that massive, muscular, beautiful flank—and mentally relaxed. He was—

A pair of massive weights thumped down onto his body.

—safe.

Caramel gasped for air, and received almost none. His world went dark, his belly and chin pressed against the wooden cart’s floor. With some squirming, he managed to twist himself onto his back, his still-needy erection pushing against the heavy, stifling—

—soft surface above him.

A quick calculation told him just where he was. It may have been completely dark, but Caramel’s blush deepened all the same. He may have missed Big Mac’s butt—but he’d been pinned beneath the stallion’s large testicles instead. He gulped, unsure of whether to be aroused or terrified. One twitch of Big Mac’s leg would have him crushed like a bug...and yet he’d never been harder in his life.

As Caramel squirmed, unsure of whether he was trying to escape or get off, he heard Mac’s deep voice rumbling through the twin orbs atop him.

“Whew. Should be good on those.”

Caramel just squirmed all the harder. His tiny body rubbed against Mac’s nutsack, the warm skin piling up around his sides. The heat was stifling, the scent unbearable. Down here, trapped beneath Mac’s balls, Caramel found himself losing his mind to sex. The big stallion’s musk permeated his every fiber of being: his lungs, his fur, his very brain.

And the cum—oh, Celestia the cum. Each jerk of Caramel’s little body rocked Mac’s fat nuts gently against his thighs. Caramel could hear the sea of seed sloshing just above him, the weight of Mac’s churning nuts keeping him pressed down as easily as an insect. Caramel whimpered, giving into temptation as he began to hump against the cum-laden orbs above him, squirming and jerking with a frenzy that he could scarcely understand.

The weight above him was intensifying—that sense of easy, utter, crushing domination wrapped itself around Caramel’s body until it was ready to snap him like a twig. The reason why revealed itself soon enough: Mac’s cock was growing, stretching upward and filling out with arousal. Caramel could feel it throb, a steady thrum-thrum that sent his whole body trembling. “Well, shoot,” Mac rumbled, his voice distorted through the twin cum-carrying orbs between them. “Somepony’s needy today.”

Caramel could have squealed with delight at the first tremors. Instead, he continued to hump, twisting and squirming against Mac’s weighty nutsack. The vast stores of cum sloshing above him drove him mad with need. Far away, as if from another world, he could hear the slick strokes of Mac’s hoof against his engorged shaft. He pictured Mac jerking himself off, driven to arousal and desire by the tiny motions of Caramel’s “escape.”

“‘Mel,” Mac grunted. “Nff. Oh, you’re just so tight.” A grunt. “Bet a mare like you has never gotten to take a real cock, ain’tcha?”

Yes, Caramel wanted to scream. Yes, yes, yes. His hips bucked and twisted, his whole body rocking with the weight of Mac’s weighty orbs. If he’d had the air in his lungs to say it, if he’d had the strength of voice to shout it, he would have screamed to the heavens in reply. Make me your mare, he would have shouted. Use me, rut me, fill me. Fuck me until I’m filled with spunk and then fuck me again. Hold me down and—

Above him, the pressure momentarily relented. Caramel could hear the splurting of Big Mac’s orgasm, could feel the jizz rushing up his nuts, could feel what felt like hundreds of gallons of seed churning within his plump, fuzzy balls as he came to release. The sensation brought Caramel to his climax, his tiny body bucking as he released his load all over a half-inch area of Mac’s nutsack.

The faraway sound of Mac’s satisfied grunts was like music to his ears. Finally, Caramel let his body relax, allowing the weight of Big Mac’s nuts spread over him once more. He breathed heavily, greedily inhaling lungfuls of the big stallion’s musky, sweaty scent. That morning shower was already a distant memory, it seemed. Mac’s natural animal scent had easily reasserted itself.

Once more, far away, he heard Mac’s grunt. “Nggh. Now that’s good.” The giant body shifted a bit, squishing Caramel beneath it. “Almost wish...he woulda been here.”

If Caramel had been blushing before, he was completely red now. His heart raced, his thoughts swirling in his head as he imagined Big Mac blushing as well, his gaze drifting across the orchard as he searched for a cute little stallion to rut.

It’s me, he wanted to shout, wanted to moan. I’m here. I’m here! Find me! Fuck me! Use me!

But, squished as he was beneath Big Mac’s balls, he was powerless to shout a word, let alone move. Finally, Caramel gave up, his little chest heaving with exertion. Every time he exhaled, he could feel the liquid weight of Mac’s testicles smooshing down on him.

When Big Mac got up a minute or so later, Caramel felt a strong sort of suction pulling him with it. A beat later, he found himself blinking up at daylight once more—and found his tiny body imprinted on the plump surface of Mac’s nutsack. He sighed, then leaned forward to rest his head.

Eventually, he told himself, he’d need to climb back up onto Mac’s back or haunches or risk falling off. Eventually, he knew, he’d have to get Mac’s attention and come clean—or else risk being lost in a world a hundred times too big for him.

But for now… His nostrils flared, taking in Mac’s rich, musky scent one more time. His tiny body swung with Mac’s hefty balls, each slap of the sloshing orbs against a thigh sending vibrations through Caramel’s very bones. Far above him, Mac’s taint led up to a vast, puckered ring, which clenched with every other step  Caramel sighed happily, staring dreamily up at it. For now, at least, he could just enjoy the view.

Chapter Four: Unseen Temptations

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.

Chapter One: Shrinking Violets

Caramel was pacing.

This was not, in itself, an uncommon occurrence. Caramel was a thoughtful stallion (his words) and a slightly frenetic one (everypony else’s). When faced with a dilemma, as the excitable little stallion often was, pacing back and forth helped him to clear his thoughts. It also, as was currently the case, allowed him to procrastinate doing anything about said thoughts.

“Oh, geeze. Oh, geeze. Oh—“ Caramel had made his way across the length of the Apple family barn three times now, and he was starting to leave a visible trail in the hay. He couldn’t help it. He wasexcited. No. Not quite excited. Scared? No.

Okay, yes. Scared.

This was the right decision, he told himself. He was doing the both of them a favor, he said. And he couldn’t keep it inside forever but oh Celestia why was even thinking of saying it aloud a torture in itself?

The problem was simple. There was a stallion outside—on his way in now, for all Caramel knew—who the tan little stallion had something rather...personal to tell. Something a little bit intimate, maybe. And something that, no matter how many times he tried to say aloud, he just couldn’t get past his darned lips.

But! The resolve in his eyes cut through the blush on his cheeks. Today was going to be different. Today, he was going to speak his piece! Today, he was going to march right up to that big, sexy stallion and tell him exactly what he thought of -

“Hey there, Caramel.”

Caramel almost jumped out of his skin. “Mac!” he squeaked. He whirled, his long, almost feminine mane whipping around his neck. “I mean—Macintosh. You finished?”

“Eeyup.” Big Mac shrugged the heavy plow off of his shoulders and let the harness crash to the floor. “Them fields’re all done. We shouldn’t be havin’ a problem with the potato crop this year.” He brushed his sweaty, dirt-flecked mane out of his eyes, then refocused his gaze on the stiff-standing stallion. “You alright, Caramel?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

Big Mac nodded. “You still here?”

“Oh. Yes.” Caramel couldn’t keep himself from shaking. Mac’s rich, earthy tones at once both excited and intimidated him. Big Mac sounded so calm, so in control. Each syllable of Mac’s tones set his hooves trembling; he could practically feel the thrum of Mac’s voice in his chest. Oh, surely he didn’t want to be bothered by something like this now. “I just, ah, had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Well, shoot.” Mac regarded him with a level gaze. His eyes were so...intense. Those deep, earthy greens, almost like the fields around the farms—it would be so easy to drown in those depths. He nearly slapped himself for thinking that. Don’t monologue in romantic cliches, you stupid sap!

Romantic—oh, yes. Oh, Celestia. Caramel steeled his jaw. Right. He’d stuck around to say this, and he was going to say it, whether he liked it or not. Caramel squeezed his eyes shut. “I—“

Big Mac leaned slightly closer. He seemed to loom even larger in Caramel’s eyes. He already towered above Caramel’s shorter figure by more than a head, but that extra bit of closeness just magnified his already overwhelming presence. Caramel twitched. With nary a word, or even a harsh look, Mac so lazily, so easily dominated the space around him. He almost felt faint.

“I—“ What was going on? Why couldn’t he force the words out? Just a few little words: “I think I might like you.” How d’you mean? Big Macintosh would ask. Oh, nothing, really, Caramel would reply. I just really like you—I mean, in a more-than-like way, I guess. I just think you’re so handsome, and kind, and gentle, and every night I fantasize about you rutting me like the subby little mare I am—

No! Absolutely not. This was not helping. Caramel’s knees shook, his muzzle scrunching up even tighter. Come on. Mac was waiting for him. He had to say it.

“I—“ Caramel swallowed. “I think we should try letting the eastern field go fallow instead of the west field this year.”

Silence. Absolute, soul-crushing silence.

Caramel could have kicked himself.

Mac said nothing at first, just chewed at the bit of straw in his mouth. Finally, though, he spoke. “Dunno why,” he said slowly, carefully. Oh, Caramel loved when he did that—choosing his words so preciously, as though each one could have been worth a million bits. “West field’s been used five years. East only four.”

Caramel frantically racked his brains for a response. In his chest, though, he felt like he was dying. His cheeks were burning, his forehead beading with sweat. “Well...yes,” he said. “But, ah, the beans in the east field were a lot more nutrient-heavy last summer. I think we might want to consider, uh, switching it up a bit.”

Mac regarded him evenly. He didn’t even blink.

“Maybe,” he finally drawled. “I’ll think on it.” A nod. “Thanks.”

Thanks. Not even a Thanks, Caramel. Or Thanks, ‘Mel. Oh, if Big Mac called him ‘Mel, he would just die—but he was already dying, because he’d missed his chance and damn him for being such an absolute coward—

“Hey, Big Mac! Big Mac!”

Big Mac turned to glance over his shoulder. A warm smile spread across his muzzle. “Apple Bloom!” he rumbled. “You home from Zecora’s?”

“Yup!” The little filly went flying, jumping up and tackling her big brother in a bear hug. Being four times her weight, Mac didn’t even budge, Caramel noted enviously. He did, though, grab her in a one-hoofed hug, chuckling, then ruffled her mane when she slid back down him.

“I made a whole buncha new potions today!” Apple Bloom said. “Zecora said they’re some real good ones, too! All sortsa flower stuff.” She wrinkled her nose, then turned to nuzzle through the saddlebags clamped to her sides. “Red-Hot Rosemary, Shrinkin’ Violet, Double-Time Daisies…”

“Those her names?”

“Naw. I came up with some of ‘em myself.” Apple Bloom turned and gave Caramel a little wave. “Oh, hi ‘Mel!”

He waved back shyly. Somehow, he didn’t really think he had the voice to say it aloud.

“Alright, Bloom,” Mac said. “Let’s go wash up for supper. You can leave your bag out here till tomorrow.” Bloom nodded, then dashed inside, babbling excitedly at what Caramel could only assume to be Applejack.

Caramel thought that Macintosh had forgotten about him—at least until the big stallion turned to give him a nod. “Thanks for helpin’ today, Caramel,” Mac said. “And I’ll think about those fields.”

“Oh, no need,” Caramel said quickly. He’d already flubbed it; damage control, damage control. “It was a silly idea anyway.”

Big Mac didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Instead, he just regarded Caramel for a minute before nodding. “See you tomorrow,” he finally drawled, and turned to head inside. The second the door slammed shut, Caramel slumped to the ground.

“I’m hopeless,” he mumbled, hay crinkling under his flanks. “A complete moron.” He glanced down between his legs and winced.

His heart was racing, his chest feeling like it was about to burst. His crotch was stiffness—concealed beneath his belly, his dick was throbbing, small drops of liquid arousal beading on his tip. Caramel took a deep breath, his whole body shuddering with an unfulfilled sense of want, of need. Big Mac’s presence did a lot more to him than just stop his mouth working. He’d tried, but just couldn’t get the words out. Oh, how he wished Big Mac could have just read his mind, that he could have stepped forward, seen his physical interest, laid a hoof on him and—

Caramel worked his tongue across his lips. They felt dry, cracked. But Big Macintosh wasn’t a mind reader. And that opportunity—that hope for more—could have been his. That only made it all the more frustrating that he’d failed to take his chance at all.

He’d blown it. Absolutely blown it. What kind of stallion couldn’t say those three little words? “I like you.” But not as a friend—or maybe, yes, as a friend, but maybe something more—

Not that they’d be anything more than friends, Caramel reflected glumly. He would’ve kicked something if he’d been able to muster up the willpower. Not with his habit of clamming up just before saying anything that mattered.

“Fields,” he scoffed, kicking at some hay. “Fields. Really, Caramel?”

He would have sat there feeling sorry for himself for a little while longer. However, he was awkwardly fearful of Applejack, Granny Smith, or...him popping their heads out into the barn and seeing him still there. So, with a heavy sigh, he popped up onto his hooves, his heart feeling like lead in his chest.

And then stopped. Something had caught his eye: Apple Bloom’s bag, strewn carelessly before the step. Caramel stepped toward it, then hesitated. He shouldn’t really—but one of the names she’d mentioned had piqued his interest. Surely, he told himself, it wouldn’t hurt to check…

Nosing through her bags mere seconds later, he found what he’d been looking for. “Shrinking Violet,” Caramel muttered to himself, turning the bright green bottle over in his hooves. There was an inscription across the label:

For those who see themselves as small

Or feel as though they can't stand tall.

“See themselves as small, huh?” Caramel hefted the bottle, watching the liquid slosh inside. Yeah, he felt pretty small—not to mention pretty crummy.

A shrinking violet was somepony who tended to keep their mouth shut, and their eyes down. Just like him, actually. Caramel chuckled bitterly. What he wouldn’t give to “stand tall.” Maybe then he could finally tell Macintosh how he felt.

Rule Forty-Eight for any savvy Ponyvillian was relatively straightforward: Do not drink strange potions. But, as Caramel lifted the bottle to the light, eyeing its contents thoughtfully, he couldn’t help but feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest. If this potion could help him speak his mind—if it could help him admit his feelings to Big Mac, he’d be a fool not to take it. And if it worked… Well. A little confidence never hurt anypony.

And besides. He severely doubted that even a hermit like Zecora would let a filly like Apple Bloom bring anything dangerous home.

Feeling fairly crummy, quite downcast, and entirely at the end of his rope, Caramel watched the potion sparkle for another few seconds. Then, he shrugged, grabbed the cork between his teeth, and yanked it out with a pop. A beat later, and he was pouring the potion down his throat.

Gulp. Swallow. Gasp. Caramel inhaled deeply before tossing the potion bottle aside. It landed in a pile of hay with a dull thump. He waited, his pulse pounding in his ears. One second. Three seconds. Five. And...nothing.

Feeling slightly disappointed, Caramel raised a hoof to his mouth to wipe his lips. What a fool he’d been, thinking that a filly’s potion-brewing could save his love-life. Where did he get off on that, anyway? He nearly scoffed at himself—and then stopped.

Was his hoof...blurring? He stared at it for a moment, wondering briefly why he had two left hooves. And why was the floor...spinning?

A wave of nausea swept through him. Caramel hiccuped, then hiccuped again. He felt like he was falling—like the walls were getting further away—like the floor was rushing toward him.

But wait: The floor was rushing toward him. The walls were getting further away. Caramel glanced around frantically, and watched in horror as the plow harness grew until it towered over him. No—it wasn’t growing. He was shrinking.

He tried to move—to run—but his hooves only covered half the distance he was used to. He stumbled, and landed on his nose with a grunt. He was already the size of a foal, and still shrinking. Muscles—not bulging ones, but toned from years of farmwork—receded, lightening as their owner grew smaller and smaller by the second. The world was getting bigger, and Caramel was getting left behind. His nostrils flared, his gaze whipping around as he tried to struggle once more to his hooves. He tried to cry out, but his words died in his throat—not for lack of will this time, but for simple lack of volume.

And then it was done. Caramel didn’t realize it at first. Truth be told, he’d nearly passed out halfway before the process was even done. Now, he groaned, blinking stupidly up at a ceiling that seemed more like a sky: rough, red, and stretching from horizon to horizon. Glancing over his shoulder, Caramel found himself staring at a small pile of straw twice as long as he was tall. The bottle he’d cast aside loomed over him. He’d tossed it aside easily before, but now it dominated his view. He’d tossed it away, but now, it was bigger than even he was.

“B-b-but,” the poor stallion stammered. He backed up, his pupils dilating. “That’s not—that’s not possible.”

Shrinking Violet. Oh, what an absolute idiot he was! How in Tartarus had he ever thought that—

His flank bumped up against something large and soft and warm. Caramel jumped, and squealed, his voice now as tinny and high-pitched as a train whistle.

He whirled, breathing frantically—and froze. A beast stared down up at him, its mouth slightly agape. It was the size of a timberwolf, its furred head coming up just to his shoulder. Caramel stared, his mouth struggling to work and instead just locking shut. His limbs froze, his legs locking down. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—move.

The mouse squeaked, shrugged its shoulders, and bounced away. Evidently, it wasn’t interested in live prey today. Caramel was left shuddering, his lungs heaving in his chest, and sweat dripping down his forehead as he pondered just how small he really was.

This was—this was not okay. He’d been stupid. Absolutely stupid. Owning up to that somehow made him feel better. Caramel glanced around the barn, his hooves still shaking. He had to fix this—had to find Apple Bloom. Or Applejack or Big Mac, or somepony. He was—oh goodness, he was in danger, he was tiny, he was small, he was absolutely miniscule. Even a passing cat would have been big enough to stomp him.

He started pacing, the unconscious reflex coming to his hooves with nary a thought. Now, though, the floor beneath him seemed to stretch on forever. Strange objects loomed in his peripheral vision: the handle of a trowel, a hoof-ball, a bundle of hay. Once, he’d barely even noticed them, but now, they were the giants of his world.

Every sound made him flinch; even the slightest wisp of air made him jump. And still, Caramel continued to pace. His heart thudded in his chest. He couldn’t stay out here. He was in danger—exposed. His racing thoughts coalesced into a single, driving goal.

Get into the house. Now.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite that easy. Before he’d shrunk, the barn door had been scarcely five steps away. But now, at a size his rational mind (tucked away safely in a corner where it could gibber to itself in peace) estimated at around a single inch tall, that same distance felt like the length of a hoofball field. And those steps—at his height, they looked more like walls. A single, feeble jump was a good starting attempt, but his hooves were barely able to reach even the halfway point. Steps that even tiny little Apple Bloom could bound up with ease were far too big for him to manage.

Caramel inhaled sharply. This wasn’t going to work. He glanced to the side. Beside him, a pile of hay towered above his tiny figure, reaching nearly to the top. It had barely come up to his knee once, but now it was like a forest. Even the thinnest straw were the size of tree branches too him. He clambered up onto it, trying to ignore the overpowering smell of dried grass, old hay, and—

His nostrils flared, and his stallionhood throbbed again in want. Caramel winced. Oh, dear. Was that Big Mac he smelled…?

He slipped once, and nearly fell in another time. But he made it up, fighting for every inch. His chest heaving, and his mane matted with sweat, Caramel heaved himself to the top step, panting. Then, he swallowed, stared up at the seemingly fifty-foot door, and slipped through the crack beneath it.

Chapter Five: Big Macintosh, Little Caramel

At home, Caramel usually slept in a bedroom that could probably be compared to a den - or a cave: heavy curtains, warm blankets, and a plethora of large, fluffy pillows. Big Macintosh, though, had forgotten to close the blinds the previous night, and so it was the prickling of bright morning sunlight at Caramel’s eyelids that woke him up the following morning. He groaned, grumbling with a silent wish for more sleep - but then felt the ground shift beneath his hooves and decided against it. He yawned, then stretched, pressing gently down over the soft red carpet that had formed his bed. “Mornin’, Mac,” he mumbled, a sleepy smile on his face.

He could feel Mac’s chest slowly rising and falling beneath him. Caramel frowned, glancing out at the window. A bit of light was seeping in through the shades, but not very much. It must still be early. He considered going back to sleep, but decided against it for two reasons: First, he wanted to be ready when Mac awoke; he had made a promise to come clean, after all. Second…

...his little cock was hard with the morning’s arousal, and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to have some last-minute “me-time” with his oversized partner.

Caramel glanced back over his shoulder, turning away from Mac’s peaceful, slumbering muzzle and toward the tent said stallion was making in the sheets. He licked his lips, a throb of arousal sending his cock lurching to one side. And oh, what a tent it was.

It was a perfect cone, molded into a half-sphere over the top. A line of drool ran down Caramel’s chin, his libido doubling at the sight alone. The bulge of Big Mac’s morning wood beneath the blankets was a vision almost as marvelous as the massive cock itself. It curved along the sides of his flare, the fat bulge of his head obvious through the thin fabric. Caramel swallowed, his own morning wood twitching between his legs. And was that a dark stain he saw? A damp spot, right at the tip of Mac’s member; a musky, wet reminder of his insatiable arousal.

“Just a short playtime,” Caramel told himself. He found himself trotting down the curve of Mac’s belly, mesmerized by the softly swaying tent in the sheets. That bulge almost seemed to breathe, throbbing with a powerful lust that simply begged for attention. As Caramel wiggled his way beneath the sheets, a wave of Big Mac’s warm, sensual musk washed over him. He took a deep breath, sighing happily. This was familiar territory.

There it was: a tall, formidable pillar of stallionhood that just screamed “look at me.” Caramel knew that Big Macintosh had always been a shy stallion, but if he’d ever cared to present himself another way, he knew that Mac could have been crawling with stallions (and mares, he sullenly admitted) faster than you could shout “big red hunk.” A thin line of precum had already dripped down the side of the shaft, a potent reminder of Mac’s arousal. Caramel licked his lips one more time, then touched his hoof to his own erection. It bobbed and swayed beneath him, a drop of his own precum already beading at the tip. He nearly chuckled. It seemed that the virility of a stallion like Big Mac couldn’t help but rub off on those around him.

“Hey, cutie,” Caramel purred. He slipped toward Mac’s tremendous cock and softly nuzzled the base. It throbbed powerfully beneath his muzzle, a fat vein bulging against his cheek. “Looks like you’re all ready to burst.”

He positioned himself appropriately: “standing” on his hind legs, both forehooves wrapped firmly around as much cock as he could reach. Caramel planted a gentle kiss on the titanic shaft, then slowly, sensually (he hoped) drew his tongue across the side. He could taste Mac’s salty, sweat-flecked precum; the entire shaft was soaked with Big Mac’s pure masculinity...not to mention his late-night orgasm. Caramel moaned, grinding his own erection gently against that pulsing, rock-hard surface.

A cute moan tore its way from his lips. The touch of his member to Mac’s was just as he remembered: incredible. His whole body may have been less than one-tenth of the mammoth shaft’s entire length, but every sensual frot against Big Mac’s girth made his entire body pulse with a pure, lustful arousal in time with Mac’s own slumbering urges. Big Mac was hard and ready, and Caramel couldn’t resist having his way with him.

He whinnied softly, his hips sliding from side to side. He left a smear of precum in his wake, a steady slickness of arousal that mixed with Mac’s own musky pre. “Oh, gods, Mac,” Caramel moaned, loving the way his tiny cock twitched and throbbed against the enormous one before him. He’d never felt smaller or more fragile—his own erection was like paper before the incredible hardness of Big Mac’s own morning lust. And he loved it. He kept humping, whining, whimpering, panting. “You’re so—so big. Nngh.”

Caramel bit down as he came, his long, feminine eyelashes fluttering. A wave of satisfaction and release swept through him, his hips jerking with the force of orgasm. He grunted cutely, high-pitched squeals of pleasure mixing with the splatter of his tiny load against the cliff of Mac’s enormous shaft. Four, five—six times his cock flared, a huge (for him) amount of jizz covering Mac’s swollen base.

Panting, Caramel relaxed his grip. He felt the huge, fleshy tower throb one last time, then released his hooves from around Big Mac’s shaft. He plopped back onto his haunches with a stupid grin on his face.

That grin, though, soon faded. For, Caramel realized, his surroundings weren’t dark anymore. A creeping horror began to drip down his spine when he recognized the light as the same he’d seen filtering through the window shades. The blankets had been lifted. He was no longer covered. And that meant—

Horror surging in his chest, Caramel whirled around—and froze. A pair of big, wide green eyes stared back down at him.

Caramel gulped. Suddenly, the sweat beading on his forehead didn’t really feel like the product of satisfaction anymore. “Um,” he said, in a very small voice. “Hi.”

Those big, green eyes didn’t even blink. “You ain’t a mouse,” Big Macintosh said deliberately.

“Er. No.” Caramel was beginning to realize just how this looked. He glanced down at the softening erection between his legs—still covered with a thin sheen of precum, his lower chest and belly splattered with ropes of his own jizz—and quickly made to cover it up with his hooves. An enormous blush crossed his face soon after. There was still a small, yet noticeable glob of tiny stallion spunk dripping down the base of Big Mac’s shaft—and he didn’t doubt that the big stallion had seen, if not everything, then at least the entirety of the ending.

Caramel paled. “Eep,” he squeaked.

Big Mac’s own cheeks, he noticed, were actually surprisingly rosy. And the look of bewilderment in his big, soft eyes was undeniable. “Why’re you small?” he asked. “And...why were you…”

He sounded absolutely lost. Caramel couldn’t blame him.

Okay, Caramel told himself. Time to be a real stallion. You’ve been worshipping one for the past two days—years, he quickly corrected himself—so time to own up to it and act like one. He drew in a deep breath, stood up a little taller—which only brought him up to one inch and one-tenth, as opposed to the one-inch even he’d been before, so the overall image wasn’t really all that impressive—and looked Big Mac in the eye.

Or tried to, at least. Both stallions’ blushes flared, and both quickly glanced away.

“I drank one of Apple Bloom’s potions,” Caramel blurted. “The—the Shrinking Violet one. I didn’t think it would actually make me—well—small. I thought it’d do...well, something else,” he finished lamely.

Big Mac wet his lips. “What?”

Caramel took a breath. This was it. This was his moment to come clean.

“I thought it would help me be more confident,” he said miserably. Oh, he’d had this all planned out, and it would have been romantic and sweet and absolutely not involve Big Mac discovering him jizzing all over his enormous morning wood. “Because there was something I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because I thought I was a shrinking violet, and thought it might help me...well, stand a little taller.”

Big Mac glanced back toward his still-throbbing erection. It was clear that his biggest question hadn’t been answered yet. Looking slightly flustered, he tossed the blanket back over himself, though not before gently nudging Caramel forward onto his belly. Caramel squeaked in surprise at the sudden force against his back, but let Big Mac guide him forward onto safer ground. Behind him, the blanket thumped back down. He imagined it settling back around the shape of Mac’s monstrous bulge...and quickly gave himself a mental swat.

“So, what did you want to say?” Big Mac asked. His brows furrowed.

“Well…” Caramel licked his lips. “There was a pony that I liked very much. That I do like very much,” he clarified. “A, uh, stallion actually.” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. “That I more than like.”

Dammit, why was this so hard? He knew the words! He knew—or thought he knew—how Mac felt. All the same, forcing out each word felt like chewing nails. He wanted Big Mac to object, to proclaim his love, to curse him, to react with disgust, interest, anything.

Anything other than the quiet “Uh-huh” that answered him.

Caramel’s cheeks burned. “You, you big, stupid hunk!” he blurted. “I wanted to tell you how I felt—how much I was into you—but I just couldn’t find the words! But now I have! I like you, Big Macintosh, and I like you a lot.” His chest was heaving, droplets of sweat streaming down his cheeks and forehead. Caramel panted, unable to stop the flood of words pouring from his mouth. “And you’re not stupid at all, though you are a hunk—and oh my gosh I’m so stupid for not telling you sooner, and I’m sorry if you think I’m weird or crazy or…”

He trailed off, feeling rather pathetic. But when he next saw Mac’s eyes, he recognized something in them that he’d always hoped for: interest. What he recognized next was a bit more unexpected. Was that...fear? Or even relief? He froze. Beneath his hooves, he could feel Mac’s heartbeat quickening, the fur slicking with sweat.

“Y’all…” Mac chewed on the word, tasted it. “...like me.”

Caramel squeaked out something resembling affirmation. He nodded firmly, his cute little cheeks blushing a bright red.

Mac’s gaze drifted back over toward the tent in his sheets. Caramel’s own gaze followed. Evidently, this much drama couldn’t drain even an inch of arousal from the big stallion’s enormous length—if anything, it looked even thicker.

“And that was why you were…” Mac paused, as if unsure of how to finish that sentence. He was still blushing, too. It would have been completely adorable, had Caramel not been flushing even harder.

“I didn’t mean to!” Caramel said. “At first, I mean. At first I wanted to come and get you for help, because everything was so big and I was so small—and still am small, really—but then I got...distracted.” He swallowed. “You were just so big and...well, sexy. I couldn’t resist. And then I was having too much fun with the whole thing yesterday to stop. But I did intend to tell you this morning, Big Mac, honest!”

Big Mac just looked bewildered. “Y’think I’m...sexy?” he asked. Caramel couldn’t tell if his voice was deadpan on purpose, or whether he was just confused enough to sound monotonous. Whatever the reason, Caramel didn’t care anymore. He’d long since passed that point.

“Yes, you’re sexy!” he burst out. “You’re the biggest, hottest hunk I’ve ever seen! You’re a damned stud, Big Macintosh, and I couldn’t help myself with you around. You just made me want...made me want…” Caramel’s lip trembled, and he whimpered softly. An aftershock of arousal rumbled through his body, mixing with shame, embarrassment, and lingering satisfaction.

“You, Big Mac,” Caramel finished miserably. “I can’t help but want you. Not just for your size,” he added quickly, “or for your...assets”—Big Mac’s eyebrows went up—”but because you’re the kindest, strongest, gentlest stallion I know, and I...just wanted you to know that.”

“That really how you feel ‘bout me?” Big Mac’s voice held the same earthy and rich tones it always had, but the timbre was different somehow. He sounded almost...fearful. “I always figured you liked mares, ‘cuz you hung around ‘em so much.”

Caramel felt like laughing. He felt like crying. He felt like doing both at the same time, then breaking down and rolling around in the big stallion’s fur. He hadn’t forgotten, of course, of the vast differential in size between them. Yet somehow Big Mac’s innocent bewilderment made him feel much smaller—not tiny, like Caramel, but...normal. Less larger-than-life.

“Of course I hang around mares, you silly colt,” Caramel giggled. “I’m as flaming as they come. But you—you’ve always been so strong. So masculine. So...big. I never even thought that you could like me the same way I liked you, just ‘cause you could have any mare you wanted by crooking your hoof. So when I heard you say my name like that two nights ago, I thought… I realized I might have a chance.”

Big Mac stiffened. “You saw that?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean to!” Caramel said. “I’d just finished running away from a Winona the size of a train, and I couldn’t get your attention. Once you’d started, I know I should’ve stopped looking and listening, but I… I couldn’t help it.” He swallowed. “Every time you said my name, or said that ‘I’ was pretty, I couldn’t help but imagine that it was really me that you were saying those things to. I wanted it to be me. It just made me feel...so good.”

By the time he finished, he was nearly whispering. He actually doubted that Big Macintosh had caught those last few words, as small and quiet as he was now. Still, the look of dawning realization in Big Mac’s eyes meant, at the very least, he’d gotten the gist of it. So Caramel hoped, anyway.

“Really?” Big Mac asked. “You...liked that stuff? All that talk ‘bout”—he blushed—”callin’ you pretty, or bein’ your stallion, or…”

“Yes!” Caramel cried. “You absolute lummox! I’d let you do anything to me!” His hooves instantly flew to his mouth, but it was too late. The damage was done.

Big Mac’s eyes widened a fraction. “...Anythin’?” he asked, his voice husky, disbelieving.

Caramel fidgeted nervously. His hoof brushed against a tuft of Mac’s chest fluff, the once-warm and comforting “carpet” now seeming almost alien. “...Yes,” he finally admitted. “Dammit, Mac. A big, strong stallion like you?” He giggled nervously. “A tiny, cute little sub like me? I wouldn’t be able to say no.”

Big Mac eyed him for a moment, weighing him. Caramel wanted to shrink back, but forced himself to stand up tall instead. This was it. He was done hiding his feelings, done hiding behind a veil of shyness and shrinking back whenever he wanted to say something meaningful. Only one way to go now: Forward.

Finally, Mac just nodded. “Y’are kinda cute,” he said. There was a hint of dawning realization behind his eyes, as though he’d decided exactly what that meant for the very first time. Caramel didn’t even see the hoof at first, so deliberate, so gentle did Mac move it. All he felt was the brush of displaced air against his back—and then Big Mac had taken him in hoof, scooping him up off his chest until they were staring eye-to-eye.

“Wh-whoa,” Caramel said. “Uh. What’re you doing?”

Big Mac blushed. It was the cutest thing Caramel had ever seen. “Well,” he drawled. “Y’did say anything… And I figure you’ve already given yourself enough time to walk your way ‘round my body.”

That was true. Caramel relaxed, no longer wriggling in Mac’s grip. It was hard not to flinch reflexively on seeing the big stallion’s giant maw cracking open, but thankfully, it didn’t open much wider than that. Big Mac held his tongue carefully between his teeth, eyeing the tiny Caramel with no small amount of interest. Caramel squirmed a bit, momentarily feeling a bit exposed—his still-dripping cock had flopped right over his thigh, and was obviously completely visible to Big Mac’s focused gaze. But, he told himself, fair was fair.

Carefully, Big Mac poked his tongue out past his lips and gave Caramel a lick.

It wasn’t a large lick, nor a heavy one. If anything, only the tip of his tongue hard brushed against Caramel’s crotch. But that alone easily covered the tiny stallion’s groin, belly, and more. Caramel groaned, his muscles flexing as the rough surface of Big Mac’s tongue dragged across his entire package. He felt like he could feel every tastebud, every warm, sticky bit of saliva clinging to his tiny stallionhood. Big Mac was tasting him—and he seemed to like what he found.

When Mac pulled away, still holding the little stallion delicately in his hoof, Caramel was panting. His boner, which had just seconds before been soft, was now completely hard. So effortlessly had Big Mac dominated him, held him, pleasured him. He thought he’d been turned on before, but he’d been wrong. Caramel had never felt more out of control. He was, quite literally, in Mac’s hooves, a tiny life that could be extinguished—or a tiny libido that could be fanned into a roaring flame. He trusted Big Mac enough to know it would be the latter.

Big Mac’s tongue retracted. Caramel wanted to beg him for more—wanted to be roughhoused, handled, pleasured by that magnificent, moist plain—but it was clear that the big, red hunk had other plans. With Caramel’s now fully hard stallionhood poking out at a pathetic sixth of an inch, the little stallion’s arousal had reached critical levels. Big Mac eyed it for a moment, pursed his lips, and leaned gently forward.

Caramel’s eyes bulged wide. Big Mac’s lips were pressed gently around his shaft, the edge of Caramel’s flare pushing past just past his massive muzzle. Perhaps past wasn’t even the write word—Celestia knew that Caramel was far too small for Big Mac to give him a proper blowjob. All the same, the pressure of those lips around his member was like nothing Caramel had ever felt before.

Oh, gods, the suction was incredible. Caramel groaned, situating his arms so that they rested just on the top of Big Mac’s upper lip. His lower legs dangled, his rear grinding against the edge of Mac’s giant hoof. Big Mac could scarcely “suck” Caramel’s cock for fear of sucking the rest of him down, and yet the gentle giant was doing a wonderful job pleasuring his tiny, horny friend.

Caramel moaned cutely. “Oh, Celestia, Mac,” he whimpered. “Oh, yes. Oh—oh, yes. It just feels so good—and I’m just so small.” His ass began to slid up and down the side of Mac’s hoof, his whole body grinding against the softness of Big Mac’s plump lips. Mere minutes after cumming, his balls already felt full again, more than ready to spill their seed for the second time that morning. Even as he humped Macintosh’s muzzle, though, he knew that he wasn’t the one in control here. Mac held all the power now, and he could deny or pleasure Caramel as he wished. The very thought just made the little stallion squirm harder in delight.

Within seconds, Caramel felt just about ready to blow. It was Mac’s tongue that finally did it: one swish of that rough, moist surface against the flared head of his cock, and Caramel felt the floodgates go loose. He cried out, his eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerked, but Big Mac kept him easily in place. His tiny shaft lurched, depositing its droplet-sized load just past Mac’s lips; the giant stallion slurped it down easily, the additional suction of his mouth making Caramel’s orgasm last all the longer.

When Big Mac pulled him back, Caramel was panting. The little stallion shuddered happily, then gave Big Mac a loopy smile. “G-guess we’re even now,” he said.

“Nope.” Mac licked his lips clean of the last bit of Caramel’s tiny load. “Not quite.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Big Mac fixed him with a level stare. “You’ve been usin’ me all the last day to get yourself off,” he said. “Think it’s about time you lent me a hoof.”

Caramel couldn’t say “yes” fast enough. ”Oh, yes please—I’d love to. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Big Mac nodded. “Good,” he rumbled. “‘Cuz I got an idea that don’t involve you doin’ much at all.”

Caramel barely had time to squeak out a “huh?” before he found himself whipping through the air. Gentle as he was, the sheer size difference between himself and Big Mac meant that even a soft, short movement meant heavy winds for the tiny stallion. His cock bobbed and smacked against his thighs, his whole body pressed against the side of Mac’s massive hoof.

With a thump, the covers were pushed to the side. Caramel watched with wide eyes as Mac’s colossal stallionhood sprang up into the air, thick and black and larger than life. It looked even bigger than he remembered, if that was even possible. More than a foot of heavy, dripping, musky stallion meat...and it was all his.

Or rather, Caramel thought with a shiver, he was all its.

Caramel squeaked when he felt the flare of that massive shaft nudging against his cheek. Big Mac pressed him, not hard, but firmly, against a particularly fat vein, which snaked all the way from the base up to the wide-set, pre-slick head. Caramel moaned as Mac “forced” his muzzle against a stream of leaking pre.

“Figured you liked rubbin’ against my cock,” Big Mac said gruffly. That voice—oh, that voice. Yes, Caramel wanted to squeal, and would have if he hadn’t been so occupied with lapping up the rivers of milky-clear precum streaming across his muzzle. Yes, I like rubbing against your cock. Oh, my Celestia, yes.

“Ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Mac growled, “but I figure you could do your part to help get me off. ‘Cuz you may’ve finished yourself...but I still got a whopper of an apple tree to take care of.”

Oh, gosh, the incredibly inappropriate sexual apple farm metaphors. Caramel could have died happy.

And it was true: it really was a whopper. Caramel had little choice in the matter, but he would’ve happily pressed his muzzle against Mac’s rock-hard erection anyway. His tiny body slid down Mac’s well-lubricated shaft, one giant hoof lightly “squeezing” his outstretched arms around Mac’s titanic girth. Mac grunted, his thighs flexing. Reduced to nothing more than a masturbation aid for Big Mac’s morning wood, Caramel was still surprised at the fact that his own stallionhood wasn’t completely hard. Three rounds, it seemed, may have been too much for him. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t make Big Mac’s first round as pleasurable as possible.

Then again… Caramel squirmed in Mac’s grip. His fur slid effortless over Mac’s pre-slicked shaft as the big red stallion slowly pumped him up and down. He was pretty much powerless at this size: Big Macintosh had made up his mind to use Caramel to jack himself off, and the little stallion was helpless to do anything but go along for the ride. Squeezed between Mac’s enormous hoof, and the gigantic stallion’s doubly massive cock—oh, Celestia; every pulse of that incredible meat made his whole body throb, beating in time with Mac’s indomitable arousal—Caramel was nothing more than a toy for Big Mac to pleasure himself with.

Big Mac’s pre had begun to drip in an ever-quickening flow down his shaft, soaking Caramel in so much sticky arousal he could hardly breathe. What little air he did get between gulps of Mac’s warm, sticky precum with thick with that giant stallion’s intoxicating lust. Everything in his world now was simply another part of Mac’s pleasure - and it felt incredible. It was like every fantasy in his life had come true: in that moment, Caramel was absolutely overjoyed at the prospect of being completely and utterly used. In that moment, Big Mac more than dominated him—he owned Caramel, the entire inch of it. And the tiny, moaning, squirming stallion couldn’t have loved it more.

Mac’s breathing was growing labored. Perhaps it was the care he had to take to ensure Caramel’s safety, or the oversized libido the tiny stallion’s ministrations had given him over the last few days. Whatever the case, as the gigantic stallion began to growl and twitch, pressing Caramel just a little more tightly against his throbbing, meaty shaft, it soon became clear that he had no intention of taking it slow. Big Macintosh wanted to cum, and he had no compunctions about using Caramel to get there.

It was perhaps Caramel’s one disappointment that Big Mac hadn’t—for completely understandable reasons, of course—decided to use him as a cocksock. He privately made a note to visit the magic sex shop in town and ask about a spell that might possibly—and oh goodness he was just brimming with forwardness now, wasn’t he? Another pump of his body along Mac’s throbbing length, though, set his mind back on task—especially when that mountainous hoof rubbed his helpless, tiny body around the base of that quivering, rock-hard shaft.

Caramel gurgled happily, his tiny muzzle pressed tightly against the skin between Mac’s throbbing cock and his plump, churning balls. Mac groaned and pressed a little harder. Caramel actually sank a good half-centimeter into those soft, fuzzy cum-spheres; he could actually hear the “gallons” of cum (to him) sloshing around inside. He was, he decided, more than ready to help that sea of spunk find release—even and especially if that “release” was right on top of him.

“O-oh, ‘Mel.” Big Mac groaned, his powerful chest heaving with exertion. Caramel’s ears tingled—had he really just heard Big Mac call him that? “You’re...just so soft. You...mmff...cute lil’ thing. You feel so good—”

Caramel moaned. That was it. He’d died and gone to heaven—that was the only reasonable response. Mac kept pushing, kept rubbing, kept pumping, abusing Caramel’s soft, tiny body for his own pleasure until the roar of cum churning in those massive nuts was about all Caramel could hear.

Big Mac was panting. “I’m—I’m gonna—” He didn’t even need to say it. Instead, all he had to do was slide Caramel’s tiny, squirming body up the full length of his cock—following the bulge of his first load up the shaft - before planting ‘Mel’s tiny muzzle directly over his wide, flaring cockslit.

And then Mac came.

Caramel’s eyes squeezed shut just in time. A flood of cum washed forth from Mac’s enormous tip, a cascade of jizz that soon drowned his head, shoulders, and the rest of his body with a single oversized splurt! He opened his mouth wide, like a foal trying to catch snowflakes. His cheeks filled again and again, each new rope of cum filling his mouth as he frantically tried to gulp it all down. He swallowed what felt like load after load—though to Big Mac himself, he’d barely finished unloading the first spurt.

Waves of hot spunk spattered every inch of Caramel’s tiny body. His jaw ached from staying open for so long; his belly had long since grown big and tight, completely full of Mac’s warm cream. Caramel moaned, gurgling through the oncoming river of jizz as Mac’s orgasm went on without end. Unable to take any more, his tiny, abused mouth simply overflowed with cum, drops of thick seed dribbling down the tiny stallion’s cum-drenched cheeks.

Big Macintosh certainly wasn’t shy about sharing his pleasure with Caramel. Once it became clear that Caramel was too full to swallow a single drop more—and for him, a single drop of Mac’s jizz might as well have been a full meal—Big Mac gave the little plush stallion a soft squeeze and began to pump his flare in earnest. Caramel moaned, his tiny body squirming in overpowering delight as Mac used him to milk his orgasm to the fullest. Caramel was completely and utterly covered with cum, his body saturated with the big stallion’s seed in every possible way. He was barely more than a blob of the stuff now, a slick little cumsponge that Mac could roll around his constantly erupting cockslit.

Finally, after both far too much and too little time, Big Mac’s orgasm ceased. The big stallion’s hoof had withdrawn, leaving Caramel sprawled awkwardly atop the curve of his flare. Little Caramel’s chest heaved, his whole body shuddering with a kind of pleasure that far surpassed the simply sexual.

His whole body was white. Gone were the warm, soft tans; his Cutie Marks, too, had vanished beneath a covering of creamy white. Big Mac had surrounded him, covered him completely in his seed, and Caramel would have given almost anything to roll around in it until the musky scent of it had seeped into every pore of his skin. But it was all he could do to keep breathing, his tiny body worn out, his belly swollen and sloshing and full of what felt like gallons of Big Macintosh’s seed.

Idly, Caramel realized happily that nothing would have changed, even had he been at his normal size. From what he’d seen over the past two days, Macintosh was more than virile enough to do this to him at any height. All it would have taken was a few more swallows, a few more spurts of piping hot Apple cum, and even a regular-sized belly would be left sloshing with Mac’s virile seed, hanging down near his knees with a fat, rounded bulge curving right around his middle.

Caramel panted. He was tired, and a little bit sore—which was entirely understandable, given the role he’d just been made to play. Deep in his chest, though, he felt a deep, enduring warmth that passed beyond even the strongest of afterglows. As it was, he could barely do more than moan happily, his legs flopping against Big Mac’s hoof as it tenderly scooped him off of the still-twitching stallionhood.

Caramel glanced sleepily up at Big Mac’s muzzle, looming far above him. Then he yelped, flailing a bit, as Big Mac’s tongue gave his face a long, thorough slurp. By the end of it, Caramel’s warm face was dripping with saliva—and, he realized, clean of any leftover cum.

Carefully, delicately, Big Mac cleaned Caramel off. He lapped up each rope of spunk from Caramel’s coat and mane, taking care to avoid hurting or swallowing the tiny, jizz-covered stallion. Caramel whined softly, his back legs kicking as Mac’s long, rough tongue dragged across his rump. His cheeks flexed, every sensitive part of his rear flaring up as Mac cleaned him off. Even as Big Mac licked his cum off of Caramel’s fur, though, it was clear that it wasn’t sexual. It was too tender, too...intimate for that.

When Big Macintosh finished, Caramel was wet with moisture, but, for the most part, completely clean. Big Mac regarded him closely for a moment, Caramel wisely taking the time to regain his breath. Once he had, he glanced up, meeting Big Mac’s eyes.

“I didn’t…” Big Mac paused. “...Hurt ya, did I?”

Caramel wordlessly shook his head. Big Mac’s shoulders slumped, and the big stallion exhaled. The force of his breath blew Caramel’s mane back over his forehead and shoulder.

“Good.” Mac sighed. “Kinda got a lil’...carried away there.” His cheeks were a bright, rosy red. But by the look of satisfaction in his eyes, it was clear he’d enjoyed himself.

“You were magnificent,” Caramel said dreamily. Then, noting the bemusement in Big Mac’s eyes, he quickly added, “I mean, I’m glad I could, um, help you. It was...fun.” He blushed, too.

Big Mac’s muzzle twitched upward into a smile. “Glad to hear,” he drawled. He appeared to stare—not at Caramel, but past him for a moment. He looked...thoughtful. Hesitant. Then, just as Caramel was about to ask if something was wrong, he leaned forward, his lips pursed.

Caramel let out a muffled grunt—and then melted into the kiss. He didn’t squirm or twitch; he just let his whole face sink into the softness of Mac’s plump lips. Admittedly, with this size differential, it was hard for a kiss to be anything close to equal. Mac clearly had to hold himself back from going any further; as it was, he could barely do more than press Caramel’s tiny muzzle against his own mouth, with the tiny stallion licking happily at his lips in a miniature facsimile of a “kiss.” But by the time they came out of it, both of them were beaming.

“...So,” Big Mac said quietly. “You really think I’m sexy.”

Caramel nodded. “You...really think I’m cute?” Big Mac nodded back, his eyes flickering down. Caramel could have squealed with happiness.

“Maybe…” Big Mac shrugged. He leaned back in his bed, holding the little Caramel up just between his eyes. “Maybe this would be worth givin’ a try.”

“Maybe,” Caramel echoed. He nuzzled against the underside of Mac’s hoof. “I’d, uh, be happy to try. If you were, that is.”

Mac just nodded silently. They sat there for a moment, Mac on his bed, and Caramel on his hoof. Then,

“Maybe first, we should, uh”—Caramel coughed—”go find Zecora? Y’know, to try and return me to my normal size.”

He glanced up. A smirk had crossed Big Mac’s face, and something mischievous was glittering behind those big green eyes.

“Nope,” Big Mac said, his hoof trailing downward once more. He crooked an eyebrow. Caramel could have giggled with glee. “I think we can maybe put that off a little while longer.”