In a heavily reinforced car placed just in front of the freight, on a train travelling through a quiet land, two ponies and a dragon sat in a car. A colt, a mare, and a dragoness, to be precise; the colt and dragoness were snoozing together, the dragoness having claimed the colt’s thigh as a pillow. The mare had taken a seat across the aisle, watching the passing countryside out the window in lieu of sleeping. Only her window was up, the predawn light insufficient to wake the heavy sleepers.

The car had been made for both larger occupants and a larger population. Expected to hold occupants up to half again as tall as the average rail-rider, it was positively enormous, with a cavernous fifteen foot tall ceiling that even gryphons and minotaurs could fit within, with only mild discomfort at most. The oversized breadth requirements of the car’s type had dictated the very gauge of the tracks themselves. For that matter, the mass of the occupants had required careful reinforcement that one might think better suited to combat-ready war automata to go into its construction. A simple velvet rope crossed the door leading into the shared dining car next up the line; it bore a gold-embossed plaque bearing the words "Reserved by Royal Order".

The hyper car itself—for that was what it was, half again as high as any car save the double-deckers—was not only scaled to a size that even the giants of the hyperkind didn't tend toward absent-minded shattering of furniture, but was painted in soothing tones with well-polished seats and easy access to blankets and reading material. This particular car happened to belong to the Ponyville Express, and glinted with garish paint and outrageous moldings as the rest of the train puffed and chugged merrily along from the southern border of Equestria.

The glorious sun soon rose, with perhaps a hint of improperly animate smugness, over this part of the world. As the first rays of light danced through the other curtains, Twilight Sparkle gently put her favorite bookmark mid-page—not near the spine, of course—and closed De Magia, which was always a comforting read when she couldn’t sleep. Looking out her window, the eight-foot amazon alicorn blew a loving kiss towards the rising sun. Home soon, Celestia, she thought. At your feet again, right where your little mare belongs.

Twilight carefully put De Magia away and reflected at her oversized seat— which was, even so, a little squished. It was a bit silly, but she did like having her side-mounted bookshelves—aka, her big ol' hips—squeezed. Unlike a certain oversized, snoring colt, she'd left the armrest between her and the empty seat closer to the aisle down. It wasn't quite like having a lover squish her broad curves and feel the unstoppable muscle beneath, but it was a nice tight accompaniment to her hiphugger jeans, which were doing a nice job of squeezing her titan's teardrop-shaped rump by themselves, thank you very much.

She felt there was just something so flattering about having curves too big for a seat built for giants, honestly. She crossed and recrossed her massive, lush thighs, thicker than many hyper ponies' torsos, and resettled her wings behind her. Seven years and she wasn't entirely used to them yet, but at least this time before buying her current favorite t-shirt—Mathematicians: Because Precision Matters, it proclaimed proudly—she'd remembered to get the wingslit version when she'd asked for the custom tailoring for her U-cup rack. Forget foal feeding, she thought with a stifled giggle: her mega-mamas could smuggle foals around inside!

Another light giggle escaped her lips, shaking her giant girls around. She'd been pretty svelte as a unicorn, not the athletic kind like Dashie, but just … small. Able to hide behind one of her mentor's legs with room to spare. Apotheosis had been kind to her, she had to admit, and it wasn't just her rack.

There were some disadvantages as well, Twilight thought wistfully. One of which was a definite lack of nice, big, overwhelming stallions. She grumped a bit. I am a switch, and the two mares who can top me good and proper can’t do so often enough—and no one else seems up to the task! And while I’m wishing, I’d like some variety, please. A nice, deep dicking that stretches my twat out while I’m having my wrists pinned and my legs held…

She pouted, considering the past year, She had been really hoping—it had been one of the upsides of the trip—that among the heroes and rare demigods of the other species, she’d have found someone to take at least the fever edge off her burning needs. Hay, Griffons and Minotaurs got to be a good twelve feet tall past the edge of their normal distribution. You’d think they’d have produced one good Hayculean equivalent, right?

Glowering, she shook her head a bit. She wasn’t being exactly fair; the fat, juicy cocks on some of the big boys had actually managed to stretch her, a bit. But for all their big talk and “You look great, so I’m going to penetrate,” bullshit, not one of them had been able to really hold her down if she spotted them the pin! For that matter, she’d had to be careful with them after the incident with the Griffonian Arena Champion.

Twilight still thought that the letters of diplomatic protest had been a bit much. She hadn’t meant to break his pelvis, and she’d healed him afterwards!

That was griffons, though, whiny gits. Minotaur bulls seemed to be much better about the “It’s not me, it’s you, you’re a wimp, so I’m going to sit on your face now, sweetie,” speech. A lot like dear Flutters’ Bulk Biceps, really. She’d worried a bit the first time she’d done a little competitive posing with the cute little dear—Unfair, Sparkle, he’s still taller than you, just nowhere near your jormunganic pythons!—and her biceps had been bigger than his quads. Big, buff Bulky, she thought, with a wistful sigh: a foot taller, yeah, but not even close to her mass-packed expansion.

With a smug smile, Twilight stroked her clothed cunt. Like the minotaur bulls, Bulky had been a good boy. He’d been such a well-behaved stallion, continuing to pose through the entire routine, always smaller muscles, always weaker, and then at the end, she hadn’t had to give the order. He’d just gotten to his knees and begged to worship her muscles.

She’d “allowed” him to do the same to her pussy, too. Such a good little stallion.

The griffon males, though, Rainbow Light Above they could not take a hint! They kept trying to challenge her or “convince” her to give them one more chance at “really deep-dicking” her, and okay, yes, they stretched her, but she had to help them! Not to mention the terrible dirty talk, she thought, frowning. And I’m sorry, but you don’t get to tell me to call you master when I’m having to be gentle enough not to snap your pretty dick right off.

Twelve in height and three in length does not make you a sex god, she thought, lip curling, especially if you don’t have the abilities to back them up.

It had been easier before her apotheosis. She wouldn’t trade her ascension for anything in the world, and after all, her beloved mistress had some plans to take care of the future, but still. It had been so nice, way back then, when Celestia had discovered her fantasies and gently directed her to certain stallions.

Heavy Rod, that was his name, Twilight remembered. Not the first, groping BDSM session she’d carefully arranged at a Canterlot Safe-Sane-Consensual club, nor the first that Celestia had helped her find, but the best. A big, beefy hyper hunk, Rod hadn’t been the tallest, no; in fact, his seven foot six was shorter than her current height.

He had been bigger than her, though, at the time, and as broad in the shoulders as any nine-footer Twilight had seen then or now. Huge, juicy pecs, sweet, lovely ‘ceps that he had shown off for her to kiss and suck on, to stroke her hands over and marvel. He was a gentle soul, Heavy Rod of the Badlands Borderguard, for all he really cut loose in the bedroom.

That had been gentle anyway. Sure, she’d dressed up as a wispy sorceress costume, complete with, mm, a fake horn ring. He’d been in this lovely set of faux leathers, taking on the role of a barbarian conqueror with his prize. The feeling of being held, of being dominated so viscerally, so physically, with that heavy, masculine musk everywhere, with her aching, clenching pussy stretched out thicker than her (past) arm!

Twilight gave a shuddering gasp, remembering Rod that night, and a few others. She’d looked him up for follow-ups prior to her apotheosis, and for some vanilla nights afterwards. She’d never given more than a passing wist at the thought of taking him for her subby stable, of course; she wouldn’t hear of it! But… Anything else kinky would have been a lie. Strong as he’d been, strong as he was, she had changed. Physically, at least. Disregarding her feelings about being a top, she still wanted her sub time. Her subspace time. When a big-- no, a huge, positively hulking stallion with an immense dick to match brought her low. Not without love, not without caring, but brought her down. Covered her completely, held her, pinned her, forced her. Let her fight, let her struggle and punch and scream without fear of harming him-- without fear of winning.

Someone who would capture her and tend to her aching cunt, who would force her way into her throat or ravish her ass how he felt like it. Someone who would know that her cunt would cream for him, as long as he was good and tough with her. That world—his world—was too small for her now. She’d outgrown him, and nurtured a libido to match. She needed something—someone—a bit...bigger.

With more than a little hint of, perhaps, undignified self-satisfaction, Twilight walked one of her broad hands a few spans over from her corded neck to her muscular shoulder, then brought up the arm in question to pump out to her sixty-inch peak. Grinning, she kissed it with a soft "Mah!" and whispered, "You've come a long way, cutie."

She stretched out the rippling, curvy mass of her huge legs, lifting them gently under the seat in front of her. She had to be so careful, at least if she wanted to avoid avoid kicking the whole chair through the roof! She giggled quietly again. Long and tall, that's me; eight feet of prime, powerful Princess - not counting my horn. Her eyes glittered hungrily; she liked looking down at the world from above. So many people to protect, so many friends to nurture. She was the Princess of Friendship, and since she was now one of the biggest, baddest mares—no, one of the biggest, baddest anythings—around, she was always there for her friends, able to shield them behind her might.

Twilight still loved her books, and now literally could get the edge off through good research. Or good organization. An alicorn’s libido, Celestia had informed her, could derive enjoyment from all sorts of strange sources. She licked her lips, remembering the rows of neatly-organized books waiting for her back home. Mmm. Classification and analysis. But she was a long way from a panicky little librarian, standing against the unending night with just her friends, hope, and a little guesswork. At least then, they’d possessed a set of unimaginably powerful artifacts from the obscure mists of history. Now, she thought with a chuckle, they were the unimaginably powerful artifacts—if perhaps a bit more...animate.

"We've all come a longer way this time, my cute little bitches,” she murmured, squinting up at the sun, “but I'm bringing home a nice present." She sighed. It had been so damn long since she'd been at Celestia's feet or between Luna's thighs, but lovemaking with the Astral Princesses had both resulted in the same problem: being fucked by Luna was exhausting. Being done by Celestia—for there was no other to describe even vanilla sex with her ten-foot-eight-inches teacher, lover, and dominatrix—knocked her for a loop. So it was always a long time.

Her sweet sisters-of-soul, though, her fellow Elemental alicorns… Being away on tour for two years, even for a good purpose, sucked rancid offal. Their ascensions had followed hers by scant years, and as they'd become her big, burly beta bitches, she'd come to love both making sweet love to them and dominating them until they came their brains out.

She'd been stuck with local flavor, none of it with the same sheer endurance, for two whole fucking years. Twilight stifled a growl, not wanting to wake Hopper or Barb. Two years of—sure, a lot of variety with the tongues on my clit and new egos to teach how to submit to a proper mistress, but two… fucking… years without my dear sisters. Without standing proud in the challenge ring at Friendship Castle, naked, flexed, my arms bulging, my legs harder than steel, towering over the latest challenger. Even just recalling the scene left her muzzle curled in a soft smile. “Challenger” had always sounded a lot better than “applicant to be a personal pussy pet,” but she’d always enjoyed the contrast of the terms all the same.

Twilight remembered her rather epic send-off. Whoops, no, Twi, that's a mistake, she told herself, gritting her teeth as her plump nethers tried to ruin the last clean pair of panties she had until her stop. She was going to fuck them in so many different ways—hay, at least the local flavor had given her new ideas.

She smiled. And it had been a growing experience for Barb. Unfortunately figuratively, as far as the poor thing went; she'd been stuck at no bigger than a tall normal pony for years, a six-foot-nothing fireplug. Twilight's number one assistant might not be destined for quite the same scalar overdevelopment as the alicorns she dutifully assisted, but she had managed to put on quite the Luna-esque development and definition program.

Her "little" body was quite the hard stretch of chiseled physique now, except for those perky little C-cups. Twilight wondered when Rarity would realize, as Twilight had, that Barb was, in fact, an adult, and really meant her come-ons. Of course, Twilight also wondered how she herself would deal with the issue. Barb had been…what? Not a pet, obviously, in either sense of the word. Not quite daughter, not quite little sister, but close. Now, though—a nebulous kinship not too unlike that which Twilight had with her sister Elements. And, she thought, frowning, if they were both fucking Rarity…

Twilight sighed, That was a problem for later, and not, thank the Rainbow of Light, now, when said nebulously-sisterish dragon was curled up in a seat designed for a much bigger pony, and looking absolutely fucking cute right down to her ruby-flecked drool. No, Twilight’s issue for the moment, other than an intensely inappropriate need to rip one of the armrests off and jill herself off with it until their stop, was bigger, but not much of a problem. Nope. She had his number.

The number of alicorns in Equestria had exploded lately. What had been two just a bit over a decade past had risen to three, then four, five, and soon, ten, counting dear little Flurry Heart. From a species point of view, there was just one problem: they were all mares, and, from tests following the lone cross-breed, the only currently breeding alicorn was fated to bear only daughters. As time was marked by immortals, the Fading Plague was too recent, too mysterious to make those numbers comforting. They needed more—for breeding.

On a personal level—gah. Twilight felt her pussy clench again. Fine. Distractions first. Hungry little slit. She smirked affectionately, and reached down to stroke her plump pussy lips through the painted-on tightness of her jeans. She pondered for a moment, checked; yep, the other two were still sleeping. She crept to her feet silently in a way that eight-foot-tall amazons usually don't.

Microcontrol, that was the ticket. Commanding each and every cubic millimeter of muscle on her giant body with instinctive grace yet under the hammer of her conscious will. Her step on the floor was lighter than a breezy-- was lighter than a breezy’s foal. Having the goddess of the night decide to reward successful infiltrations by permitting you to worship her divine muscles and gorgeous twat tends to make for good incentives. Twilight did love good pedagogy.

She snuck back a pair of rows so she'd notice any prying eyes. Dammit, if it was just Barb, she'd be all but trying to get noticed, just to see Barb's cute little face and hear that adorable little squeak when she realized… Twilight sucked in a breath as a sudden heat blossomed between her thighs, her bountiful bust bouncing as her inertia found itself coming to an abrupt end. Ooh, hi there, clit, are you happy to meet my jeans again?

Twilight hissed with pleasure, and then brought her right fist up to her mouth, grinding her teeth over the knuckles as she forced herself not to squeal at just how huge her hands alone were. It was… useful. She pressed her left forefinger down against her hardened nub where it was shoving back up against the pseudodenim. Not visible, but that doesn't mean I can't tell, no ma'am. Fuck. When did I get into exhibition? Was it when Luna fucked me over the merlins on her tower that one night, or the first time Celestia told me the source of ambrosiac milk?

Ah, research. Shit, Twilight winced. Now I really am wet. I'm going to have to… mmm. Dry them off in the bathroom. Nice and pervy. Still panting into her huge fist, she began to grind her finger faster over that tight spot, right where the denim pattern pressed back against her frilly panties. Not even mine; I claimed them from that one Minotaur general, didn't I? Booty trophy.

She smirked, squeezing her thick fingers against her nub as she remembered the minotaurs. Cow and bull alike, they were so much better at accepting it when she had them between her thighs, her quads squeezing in oh so close. Griffons were such whiny little pussies about it when she put them in her favorite scissors. The minotaurs just seemed to accept better that they might be a bit taller than she, but none of them had her sheer strength.

Which is how I ended up with these panties I'm juicing right now, Twilight reminded herself. She let her nub go for a while, and rubbed her palms over her jean-clad thighs, squeezing and pushing back against her huge quads. She hadn’t just been given those as freebies. When it had become clear that becoming an alicorn meant she had very few upper limits on her body, she'd developed some heavy exercise and meditation techniques, all so she could get these lovely crushers all bulked out and without giving up a moment of book time.

They'd felt so nice when she'd had Bronze Bulk between them, the lovely ten-foot-tall cow's straining, bulging arms pinned against her sides and her gorgeous chest heaving as she tried—and failed—to escape Twilight's hold. She'd taken the panties off her unconscious partner's body before carrying her off to prep her for the scene, and Bronze had gratefully surrendered them as a thanks for the topping. Unf. Bronze hadn't been the biggest minotaur to go down between Twilight's thighs, but she'd had the best tongue.

Twilight licked her lips hungrily. My stains, my property now. She stifled another groan and licked her own fingers. Soon, back to my best property, my sweet alicorn cunts. Taut little Dashie, squishy little ‘Shy, not-hard-enough hardbody AJ, arrogant little clitsucker Rarity, and—mmff—squeezy bouncy Pinkie Pie. Her fingers tightened around her hips, as though remembering fondling Pinkie’s soft, candy-padded rump. Mine. I've missed you so much girls.

She let her eyes roll back into her head a bit and made as quiet of a gasp as she could against the fist in her mouth. She brought her treetrunk thighs closer together, pressing the curvy layers harshly against against each other and her frigging fingers, just to remember what it was like having one of her best friends and best bitches trapped beneath her own heat and muscle, squirming to release her so they could dare to have release.

Twilight’s tongue slipped past her teeth, her brow furrowing as she pictured the scene. AJ on her broad, beaten back beneath me, with one of my boots grinding onto her fat, succulent titties… Her lip curled, and the end of her tongue wiggled delightedly in time with the digging of her fingers between her titanic thighs. That big, beefy right arm of hers trapped up between my dominant thighs... Mm, just like that, just fucking like that. Twilight’s broad chest heaved, her great twin mountains squeezing together between her torso-thick upper arms. She let her other hand follow the first’s trail, squeezing it with her dominant palm as her tree-trunk legs trembled with strain around them. Pressure bore down around her knuckles, and Twilight squeezed her tongue between her teeth, her biceps bulging as she imagined “winning” an imaginary duel.

It's too bad it's not quite the same, she thought with a mental giggle, since I can wrap my fist quite nicely around AJ's with barely any strain. Shit, Tartarus, fuck do I love being the bigger musclebitch.

Twilight flicked her clothed nub back and forth with just the tip of her middle finger while she ground her thunder thighs around and around her hand, remembering the feel of Equestria's fourth—mm, fifth, now, yummy—strongest pony being beaten around like a welterweight. She savored the memory of her lovely, huge, Apple maretriarch, swole as a minotaur at a Beef Beach competition, either squirming around between Twilight’s mountain-breaking thighs or bear-hugged and smothered into her massive U-cups. I love you, AJ, Twilight thought as she stifled another moan,watching warily ahead in the seats through narrowed eyelids. I love you sweetie, but fuck, do I love showing off!

Fifth just isn't good enough, honey, she thought. She stretched out her legs and pumped hard at the calves and remembered the shocked look on those zebra stallions' faces when her calves had been bigger than their thighs. They'd given her some good muscle loving, alright. Though it’d been a wonderful treat to find just how “gifted” zebras were compared to their equally-sized stallion compatriots. While barely small compared to a hyper, it’d felt wonderful squeezing one of those two-foot slabs of Zebrican meat between her thick, juicy thighs while she squeezed moan after lusty moan from its trembling, gasping owner.

Twilight’s lips parted, her head tilting back as memories of hot, virile seed splattering between her legs filled her thoughts. AJ, she thought with a pant, you better not have gone soft. Her arms flexed, pushing her enormous chest forward and making the seat groan beneath her gently-rocking weight. I bet Rarity's been letting you slack. I know she has. When I'm done giving you all the loving touches, I'm going to work you until you drop.

Twilight's cunt clenched around the stolen panties, sucking the fabric in and drenching it anew. Her toes curled, scraping the inside of her socks and shoes while her muscles bulged, her thighs pressing out far enough to make the armrests screen in discomfort as they began to bend around her.

Twilight let out a real groan now, if a soft one. That's right, world, I'm big enough to break a chair made for someone up to a foot taller than me with my thighs just squooshing together. The fuck is anyone going to stop me do when I have to defend my ponies? She was so close, the climax just a few more flicks away...

No. She stifled it. Bit hard against her hand as it slipped out between her legs, flat teeth pressing into the hard hide, forcing herself not to scream, not to cream. It wasn’t easy, though, especially when she tasted the soft, sweet arousal soaked into her skin. She made herself relax her quads, though, release her hand, spread her thighs out. Can't. Not here. Not yet.

All over, her body was on fire with her nerves' screaming demand to climax. The very pressure of the stuffy air of the railroad car, muggy from their long trip, was like silk being tied down across her thick hide. Her pussy wanted its due. It wanted—no, needed something big enough to satisfy her, and skilled enough to push her over.

Twilight, however, had been schooled in the fine art of being a wriggling edge slut at Celestia's massive feet—often literally. She’d been trained on how to hold off to get the better orgasm... or just because it pleased her oft-demanding Mistress Sun.

Twilight took a look over to her side, just to check. Aw. Her brow relaxed, a smile touching her muzzle. Barb's still sleeping. Chest heaving, pecs tensing, she felt a bit of a creeper as she looked over at occupant number two. Technically—and most importantly, symbolically, for the ritual magic marriage Celestia wanted—he was still underage. By a day. And Celestia wanted him teased up starting tomorrow, not now, which was part of the reason why she couldn't just cum all over herself here and ask them what they were going to do about it.

Really, though, that was part of the thrill, wasn't it? Occupant number two very well might have actually been able to do something about it. She went back over it in her head, mouth moving to sound out the words: Occupant number two, Shadow Hopper, alicorn son of the Void King and the Triune Queen…

Twilight bit her lower lip and permitted herself just a bit of a creeper’s smile anyway. "You're going to be our solution for both problems,” she murmured, “not just the baby-making. "Something twinged between her legs, and, perhaps a little guiltily, she allowed herself to get a little lost looking over him.

She still wasn't entirely sure when Hopper had flipped over from "cute foal" to "I am counting the birthdays until you qualify as a stallion." From afar, he wasn't much to look at, and until he'd passed Dashie and Flutters' seven feet, she’d counted just looking down at him as “far.” Yeah, sure, he had a black hide, but as Rarity occasionally despaired, it was a flat, matte black. Didn't shimmer, wasn't midnight cloudy black, just… black. The black velvet shirt and pants Rarity'd made for him was more interesting. Same with his mane. Scruffy, too! Eyes? Brown. A sweet, nice brown—that were all kinds of clit-provoking when he got angry or interested, okay, so, the brown was a pass, but still brown. Cutie mark: a silver bunny.

At least for ponies born of ponies, our cutie marks get assigned from on high. Poor colt. His parents had brought him forth into existence—or rather, solidity; the taxonomy was really quite interesting to Twilight—fully formed as a twelve-year-old just shy of six years back, and they were the ones who'd built his body and made his mark. He'd mentioned his dad thought strangely, but Twilight thought that was kind of cruel.

As a result, it had been fairly easy to protect him when he was just a teenaged colt, either by hiding him away or by restricting his role on the various adventures and missions he'd managed to finagle his way onto with herself and the other Elements. Even today, she found he blended readily into the background. Until you got close. Until he got physical. Then? Yowza.

Twilight knew she didn't have a lot to feel ashamed for in the muscles department. Celestia and Luna were stronger than she by far, but that had been pretty much it in the above-her-peak flex for a while. At least, that had been all she had to account for until the first time his trainers sent him to her because AJ's weights weren't cutting it for him any more… Two months later, neither did Twilight's. Twilight thought about tomorrow, thought about the plan, and felt her wetness spike.

Rarity had even managed to get pictures of him flexing at full peak, under the guise of stress testing his velvet. Lucky Rarity had gotten Twilight's special treatment for a week after. If Rares did as good a job with "enhancing" the experience after Hopper's birthday, Twilight might make sure she was so lucky she'd have trouble walking for that week. Yum.

He had a nice long horn, too, and while that didn't always match up in her experience, he had puppyish-big hands and feet, and a mare could dream, couldn't she? The wings were nice, but that was more Dashie's thing. Twilight slapped her fist into her mouth again and promptly tried to fit her left hand inside her jeans this time. Nope, too tight over my curves, peel 'em off or pop the snap and that'll wake people up. That's the price you pay for hips that can carry a small library around, an ass with curves that put the Macintosh Hills to shame, and mm, mm, my bodaciously badass legs.

Oh well, frigging off through my clothes is nothing new!

Where was I? Mmm, yes. Twilight spread her mega-thighs, this time nice and wide, and let her arousal drip all over. Screw it. Screw holding back my libido. She bit her lip and her horn released a brief flare of magenta, then she double-checked the others—yeah, they're still asleep—and the scent was masked and an illusion cast. But she knew. Knew how damp she was. Knew about the wetness spreading, past her completely drenched panties, to mark her jeans. For a moment, she wondered why she didn't just add mute to the veil, but she curled her tongue between the fingers of her fist and smiled around it.

Because I like it that way, she reminded herself.

Twilight barely stifled her moan and oh-so-carefully planted her heels onto the floor of the car, pushing up and tensing her mighty muscles out all over again. Letting her quads push into metal of the armrests from the front, having to be so precise to avoid damaging them or making a sound, the sound that would wake Hopper and make him blush bright red...and that would piss Barb the hell off.

Of course, she'd then have to stop, which was as good of a reason as any to not let it happen yet. By now, she was so keyed up and sensitive that she barely needed to rub her palm over her juicing twat to get a new series of little spasms and contracting flexes over her whole body, but, hey, that was just icing. Twilight suckled hungrily on her hefty fist just thinking about it.

Problem number two—she wandered back to it. Problem number two was what she was thinking of as she sucked on her knuckles, remembering what it was like to fellate Celestia's feet. Remembering what it was like to be high on arrogance after taking all five of her Elements on in the ring and winning, and have Luna put her on her back and beneath Luna's amazing, hard-toned glutes, where even submission wouldn't get her out, no, the only way back into the light was sluttily pleasing the divine ass of the Astral Princess who had showed Twilight just how far she had to go.

That was the problem in a nutshell: how far she had to go. Twilight's heart and pussy quivered in needy unison; Celestia had indeed once, quietly, admitted her love for Twilight. In scant but brutally honest detail, she had placed Twilight squarely above any save Luna, and made it clear that Twilight's junior status as princess certainly made her no less than her sister.

However, that junior status, that lack of time for power to grow and unfurl meant that Twilight simply couldn't take the loving from Celestia that Luna could. Even Luna gave her gratitude to Twilight for blunting some of Celestia's secret roiling, perfectionistic lust, locked behind Celestia’s need to protect her little ponies, even from herself. Luna couldn’t handle it on her on her own any more; her time in banishment had created a gap between the two that had simply grown. Luna, alone, as she was, wore Twilight out to the point that when they made love frequently, Twilight had to stack magical enhancements to keep up with Luna's unrelenting passion and undying stamina; and as she loved Twilight as well, if not as dear as or to Celestia, she generally refrained from using her illusionweaving to further incite and overwhelm Twilight's senses.

When she didn't, it tended to leave Twilight weak in her everything.

Celestia could do that to her with a kiss. Could leave Twilight climaxing with a soft word, or leave her cumming, horny and sensitive for hours from Twilight worshiping just one of Celestia's mountainous biceps or breasts. On more than one occasion, just remembering Celestia's fist stretching out her cunt like she was being triple-penetrated by minotaurs was enough to get Twilight—oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Twilight snapped her legs together. Pulled her fist from her mouth and snapped her jaws tight. Trembled, wrapping her thick arms down below her legs to hold on as best as she could. Her huge, heaving tits jiggled against her giant, flexing thighs, the squishy barrier only giving her so much, like she was trying to clench around a pair of giant pillows or small mattresses. She was only barely able to stop from another climax, from the memory alone.

She couldn't remember the details of what happened when she ate Celestia out but would never forget that she had. If she was lucky, she got fucked by Celestia once a month...though, if she were honest, was more like once a season. Which was, flatteringly enough, apparently making Celestia more moody and horny too, to the point where Celestia found restraining herself enough to make use of her sex cadre of guardsponies sometimes was too much self-control to let her even take the edge off her horniness.

That couldn't last. So Celestia had decided to just roll the dice. Basic morals precluded just swamping Hopper's preferences—adorably kinky, Twilight thought; pity he doesn't switch but score! He likes topping dominant women. Oh, my, from the reports on his dreams from Luna… Poor colt doesn't know what he's in for, but we'll help him learn. Help him be a good stallion for us, so he can be ours to love, ours to come to for bedroom fun. Celestia had a whole ritual set, too, that would enhance the lot of the herd, making all of them more capable of defending Equestria… and fucking like a good herd of hypers should.

Help him to stop feeling so blasted guilty over wanting give them what they needed. She’d seen those reports, too, and made her own, watching and testing him in their social situations.

It wasn't going to be easy, Twilight knew. She pulled the fist out of her mouth. A little more danger now. But both hands free now: one to come up and squeeze along the sensitive mass of her huge tits, teasing herself by avoiding her broad areolae; the other back down to her soaked crotch, grinding the puffy nub bulging out against her pants. She sucked on her lower lip, tilting her head slightly to the left to peep around and look at massive sleeping form that lay slumped against a chair not five feet away. She felt another thrill of arousal and awe at the sight of him. Big enough that his huge, delicious ass overflowed the carriage seat, tall enough that his head had brushed against the train car’s ceiling when he’d entered...and so wonderfully, incredibly broad that his bulky shoulders took up enough space for two hypers to sit side by side. She licked her lips, a little shiver going up her spine. Not going to tell you, sweetie. Not that we're all in on it. You're going to have to earn it. None of this is going to be handed to you.

We're not spoiling you, buddy, she thought, smirking. We're making you into the dom we want. You're just going to get to enjoy it on the way.

Twilight's lips curved as she pinched two fingers around her fat, stiff nipple and forced a little gasp out of her throat. This was the game now. See how much she could fight control against her hypersensitized body. I win either way. She squirmed in her chair, trying hard not to break things—the world is just so fucking fragile sometimes!—as her fingers squirmed over her teat and her cunt.

She knew it was a little mean of her to be getting off on this. Hopper was worried, the poor boy. He sees us, tall, buff, sassy dominant mares, the literal sluts of his wettest dreams, sauntering around, flirting with each other, luring other stallions and mares back for fun time... and he thinks that's what we are. She was a bit saddened by his sense of guilt over wanting to dom them. Oh, honey, you have no idea how much all of us are going to want playtime when someone else is doing the work.

Twilight exhaled slow and long, forcing the air out of her voluminous lungs as her mountainous chest—fuck mountains these knockers are mountains' mountains that makes no sense fuck it I like my big honkers—and then opened her mouth wide, still pressing out on her lungs as her tongue curled and fluttered and her vision went a little blurry. He's so worried about the compact, about the six years we get to try to woo him. That we'll hate him when he confesses he wants to … nngh… tie us down, wrap our muscles in chains even we can't break… fuck!

She sucked in air, hard. At this point, she didn't care whether or not they heard, she was going to keep going until she heard one of them stir. Hopper, baby. When you're an adult, when you're one of us, the worst that you'd get was a no if you're not a jackass—maybe a bit more from Luna, fine—and we've made sure you're not a jackass and know how to take a no.

I get Celestia. Twilight almost squealed, a piping squeak escaping her lungs. She didn't—she couldn't—think about what that meant, or even what her beloved mistress looked like. Couldn't keep the eyes on the prize or—FUCK, she almost came again. I get Celestia, she thought, panting. Luna is surrounded by mares who will always love her, and a stallion too, and my sweet sisters of soul get to be cared for, taken care of, loved, and ravished so good.

Her fingers moved faster, faster still. Her eyes twitched, and only a second's grace made her remember not to shoot her horn off in here, too. Tense. Tense all over. My Bulk Out moment, even if Flutters' pretty boy only has the foot on me in height and mmm, yeah, my arms are bigger my legs are bigger, I wonder if she'll lend me him when I get back… Twilight inhaled fast, drunk on her own musk. She felt the slow river of arousal flow down her suddenly un-plush, suddenly huge and hugely defined quads. I'm going to break the damn chair!

Out of respect for the owners of the rail line, Twilight slid forward, down onto her knees. She couldn't—quite—get bent comfortably like this; her pumped out calves were slamming and smacking into her enormous quads, grinding like boulders in an avalanche. Her U-cups were squishing hard against the seatback in front of her, no longer needing her fingers to stimulate, but she shoved them in anyway, thinking of tighter constraints and harder fun.

Hopper thought of it as a kind of marital hunting season. He thinks one of us is going to pity-date him, get married, and he'll struggle with his oh-so-adorable guilt throughout an eternal life. Fuck that. None of us would take that, even if his parents wouldn't kill us. She peeped over the edge of the chair, saw one of his enormous legs that she could probably fit Dashie inside sprawled out across the aisle and let out another audible moan. "We are hunting you, Shadow Hopper," she said under her baited breath. "We're going to hunt you until you catch us. You're going to give us everything that we want: everything that you want."

And that was the best part. The reason she didn't think it too cruel that the plan was basically to dangle their plush rumps and badass muscles in front of him and tease him into being a good top, not just a wannabe with dreams. Because we're going to love you, she hissed mentally, her tongue flickering out to taste the air, wet with her own arousal and dreams of size and sex. Make you ours. You give me Celestia, buddy, and I will give you the ride of eternity.

She sucked in air, hard, almost an inverse whistle. Hollowing her cheeks like she had some stallion subbie to reward, she bit the insides of her mouth. It was the only way. She couldn't cum yet, she didn't dare!

That long, stretched-out leg twitched. Even just with that slow, waking up and not-too-uncomfortable motion, Twilight saw the dreamy play of power, the massive flex and bulge of thighs and calves, the muscles that made her look like her pretty little Dashie, and she had to bite down harder; the pain almost a pleasure of its own now. He's waking up. I have to calm down. I need an excuse…

Slowly, carefully, Twilight dislodged herself. A full grown hyper, even a hyper mare with her big udders bouncing, should be able to stand between the seats easily—that was one of the points of the hyper car, after all. But nope, I gotta be biggest bitch. Smug feeling but—shit—she heard the first tremors of the heavily reinforced and enchanted steel of the seat frames starting to give way again as she squirmed and pressed her plump curves and hard body to get out of her kneel. That was not one of my smarter ideas. I'm going to have to put some fixing into these. Now she did honestly feel guilty.

Eventually, she was able to get to her feet. Barb was grumbling "Five more minutes!" now, so her number one assistant was going to be up in a few, too. Her legs trembling, a lovely burn of self-induced exercise as they continued to twitch and tighten, Twilight staggered to her feet. When her sneakers hit the carpet with a muffled clang to the frame below, she heard Barb and Hopper stir faster.

Still a bit giddy, she felt her taut abs snarl a bit at her. Not only had she been teasing herself, but it had been hours since her last meal. That's it! Dining car's past the restrooms! She forced composure upon herself, confident in her illusion and scent blocker, even while the gloriously deep canyons defining the edges of her muscles were being flooded with her needy twat's lust and began to saunter over towards the waking duo.

Author's Note

Inspired by (other than polishing my personal pony) the works of Megapone; specifically more or less completely Down for the Count, the easy-gaining (just prior to apotheosis) of Rarity from Diamond in the Buff (but not the sequel), and the body/attitude for Luna out of To Be a Princess. Trixie is a non-hyper; Blueblood is a hyper, but a shrimpy 6'6". Especially if you're in to femdom, read Megapone's stuff! I can only hope to be so good.

On Anthro: Heads are those from the show, pretty much, sized for scale; horsehide over a pretty much human (if exaggerated a lot) body, plus tail, and wings/horns where appropriate. Manes grow down the necks. Again, as with the show, eyes are fixed forward. Five-fingered hands, plus feet where appropriate

On Canonicity:
The short version is, it's a bunch of macro, big-boobed, big-butted, hypertrophic anthropomorphic versions of our cast; canon has already taken a back seat to porn.

The slightly longer version is that I've tried to mostly keep with canon in broad strokes. Episodes happened, perhaps with a bit more sexual hijinks around, especially after Twilight's ascension. I'm also staying mostly canon on the Journal of Two Sisters, the comics, etc.; in between the references to other fanfics, you'll see things like notes about the umbrum. Big Mac has dated Luna, or more accurately, she fucked him silly and they parted friends. Magic technology is perhaps on the leading edge of what one might expect from the show

Some things I'm not sticking with, or at least pushing past canon. I don't just mean clop fanon stuff like "Rarity is extremely experienced and kinky, but had a tragic romantic/sexual past;" I mean that as far as this fic's world is concerned, alicorns are flat out divine and empowered as such, though greater beings keep them from levelling too much reality bending, other than aliPinkie, for whom they have lost the records. Similarly, Flurry Heart may have been the first alicorn born that way in Equestrian history, but Celestia and Luna's births predate that.

As for the fact that they're all alicorns and all range from "amazonian gymnast" to "size queen mini-giantess fantasy?" For the clop of it.