The three fillies sat immobile, pinned after having startled the huge Troubleshoes Clyde. The incredible tumble nearly knocked a cactus off the shelf, but the super stallion had managed to land on the trio instead.
Applebloom had taken the brunt of it, winded and sat on by the enormous rump. Sweetie Belle had been luckier, wedged face-down beneath his thigh.
Only Scootaloo remained free, walloped by the broad shoulder as it came down, delirious but free.
“Just my luck,” the giant drawled, looking upon his situation. “Least my little prickly friend didn’t join this square dance.
“What pray tell brings three little fillies to break into my home, in the dead a’ night anyway?”
“To bring you to justic—” Sweetie Belle shouted excitedly, before Applebloom punched her in the side. “Oh. Not the card to play now, was it?”
“Justice?” Troubleshoes asked, his long face held in contemplation. “Ah, Sheriff thinks I messed up the rodeo purpose-like. That’d figure. Now’s a mite dangerous time and weather to send fillies to deliver a warrant though. Lotta things in those woods that’d be none too sympathetic.”
“Uh, well,” Scootaloo started, unsure of the clydesdale’s attitude, and growing more uncertain by the minute, “nopony sent us, we kinda snuck off to find you and earn our cutie marks.”
Troubleshoes gave a deep sigh, and then an even deeper one. “And knowing that Silverstar, first thing he’ll reckon is that I made off with ya’. No reasoning with that one, been on my case for years. But it were none but accidents, I assure you. All cause a’ my cutie mark. Upside down horseshoe means bad luck.”
He sighed again, before Scootaloo yelped as a massive hoof came down upon her tail, pinning her in place. “An’ this time, my luck’s rubbed off on y’all. I’m terrible sorry, but I can’t let you leave. Ever.”
“W-wait!” Applebloom cried, shoving uselessly against the stallion’s bulk. “That don’t make sense! If my sister and the Sheriff think you’d taken us, they’d be coming down here anyway!”
He nodded. “Yep. It’s why I’m so sorry I gotta do this. Irony, you’d call it. To get outta being blamed for taking you, I gotta actually take you.”
Scootaloo scrabbled forward, trying to escape. “This place isn’t big at all, they’d search it top to bottom and find us! We won’t say anything if you let us go now!”
Troubleshoes sighed. “You’re right, can’t hide you here. Can’t take care of you forever neither. Only choice is to hide ya’ in plain sight. In me.”
There was a dead silence as the rain pounded against the tin roof. The three fillies stopped struggling as they processed the statement.
“Y-y….you’re gonna… eat us?!” Scootaloo asked, looking at the huge pony in a completely new light. And indeed, all of them were. Certainly, hearing the tales of Nightmare Moon were one thing, but the idea of a pony gobbling up a foal in one bite… could he?
“Y-you can’t eat all of us!” Sweetie Belle shouted in defiance. “No way!”
“No way!” Applebloom repeated.
“No,” Troubleshoes admitted, shaking his head. “I can’t swallow three fillies, even big as I am. Just one of ya’, first. You, I think.”
He looked pointedly at Scootaloo, who blanched, and started shivering wildly.
“Other two’ll need somethin’ else. Little yellow, way you’re sittin’, I think you’ll be going up my tailpipe.”
Applebloom’s eyes knit, before feeling the rump above her differently than she had before. “Y’mean… you’re gonna eat me with yer’ butt?!”
“Well, eat isn’t what I’d say, but you’re goin’ there.”
Applebloom started hitting the impassible mound of flesh she was doomed to be consumed by. “No! No, I don’t wanna be butt-food! It’s all smelly in there! I’ll scream! We’ll all scream!”
“Ain’t nopony gonna hear ya’ in the rain,” Troubleshoes said. “Anyway, y’won’t have to worry about smells. You’ll all run outta air and suffocate first. I’m real sorry it’s gotta be like this.
“That leaves pretty white. Such a shame. Gonna have to force you down my peter. Only other place to go.”
“Your…?” Sweetie Belle wondered aloud, before looking up to see the long, oddly erect member bobbing before her like a stiff snake, ready to swallow her up.
“B-but that’s your... pee-hole!” Sweetie Belle objected, blushing. “You can’t fit me in there, and definitely not in one of those balls!”
Troubleshoes looked down at his testicles, which while the size of large apples in their own right, were indeed not filly-sized. “What do they teach foals these days? No hon’, you’re not going in my ball, you’re going right past to my bladder. And don’t worry about me, I used to do a bit of sounding in my youth. Really careful mind you, but even some of my mistakes left it all flexy enough.
“After that, you’ll all be hid under my skin where nopony’ll look for ya. Only thing I’ll have is a bad bladder infection. I wish it hadn’t come to this… but my luck’s gotta change sometime. Might as well be now.”
The three struggled uselessly, Scootaloo effectively running in place as tears stained her cheeks. All the while, Troubleshoes reached to grab a pot on his stove, swirling its bubbling contents.
“Hadn’t meant it for this, but I reckon you’ll go down more smoothly,” he said, before pouring the piping-hot contents across the pagasi’s back, making her shriek.
“Augh! Ah! It’s hot! It’s—”
Scootaloo’s protest was cut short as Troubleshoes’ other hoof reached under her belly. In her shock at the hot cider, she had stopped trying to move, and the hoof pinning her tail released to grab her around the waist.
She was lifted up backside first, face going white as it dawned on her what was soon to happen. “Don’t eat me, don’t eat me, pleeeeeease!”
“Hush little-bit, gotta concentrate. Never done this before…”
He lifted the sopping filly’s hooves to his mouth, waiting for a pause in the kicking to smother them between his tongue and palate, leaving her helpless.
His lips sealed over her stubby legs, and he took several deep breaths. Finally, shocking her so much she didn’t even scream, Troubleshoes grabbed her around the head and began vigorously stuffing her down.
A loud gulp accompanied her hind legs sliding into his throat, but it wasn’t until her tiny hips were sealed over that she began whimpering at the terror of being eaten alive. Her flyaway tail pinned against her back as she felt the nape of her neck against his lips.
Then, surreal and utterly numbing, she felt hot breath on her face. She could hear the great cavernous gulping noises of Troubleshoes echoing shallowly all around her, and his great herbivore teeth began to frame the world outside.
But the noise and sensation of swallowing gave way to the thunderous shudders of the stallion choking, coughing around her, before all at once he heaved her back out into his hooves. The coughing fit continued, a dry heave punctuating it as he fought for air.
Daring to look back, Scootaloo saw tears in the stallion’s bulging eyes, and dared to dream.
“Are… are you gonna let us go?”
Troubleshoes finally regained enough composure to reply. “I’m sorry, seems I just plum messed it up. Your tail was tickling my throat, and your head’s too much with the rest of ya’ tucked in.”
He raised her up again, turning her around to face him.
“Tried to let you see what was happening, but gotta take a hint from the snakes. Gotta do it headfirst.”
He opened his mouth wide, as Scootaloo’s eyes slammed shut, and she began crying at last. She felt hot breath over her face and neck.
The other two fillies sat stunned as their friend’s face was suddenly plunged into his mouth, the rest of her flailing as she fought to be free. A great round bulge began to form under his chin, and with great strain, he brought his hooves to her rump, and gave a great shove.
The bulge expanded but a moment or two, before receding. In the beat that followed, all four in the room began to consider the stallion’s threat to be empty after all.
But then, Scootaloo felt the pressure of hooves on her backside increase, the limbs shaking with exertion as she felt the hot flesh against her face give and slide over it.
With a great, audible gulp, the whole sphere of Scootaloo’s head was plainly visible as a lump under the stallion’s chin. Even Troubleshoes himself looked surprised, as he took another great gulp, eyes wide as he lifted his head to the sky. Scootaloo’s free limbs flailed in fear, and she could be heard moaning pitifully, tiny wings buzzing.
“Scoot…?” Sweetie Belle croaked, just before Troubleshoes began to ravenously swallow up the rest of her friend’s body, flitting wings gummed with saliva. In seconds, her abdomen and rump vanished from sight, hind legs quickly pinning together before she slid from view.
With one final, pained swallow, her tail was drawn down as the lump of the filly’s body slid down his throat. Halfway down, he gasped for air, coughing dramatically as he winced. A hoof rubbed the lump down, until it vanished inside his chest, and he collapsed to clutch his growling belly.
“Sc… Scootaloo?” Applebloom asked pathetically, eyes glued to the stallion’s paunch, where the faintest impression could barely be seen in his flesh. It was like she was hardly there at all.
“That’s that then, little tyke,” Troubleshoes wheezed, his voice hoarse. “I am sorry… settle down now. Just go to sleep.”
“Let her out!” Sweetie Belle shrieked. “Chuck her out, right now! You can’t do this!”
“I can’t,” he said, rubbing the squirming gut, which slowly wound down the apparent struggles within. “Was a one-way trip. She’s too big to come up the same way. She’ll be out of air soon. I can feel her little heartbeat… slowing.”
Indeed, as they watched, quiet took hold. There was barely a murmur, hardly a shudder. There was a good half minute before he finally sighed.
“That’s it… she’s gone,” he said, before curling a hoof around Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “Come on then… no turnin’ back now.”
Sweetie Belle groaned in fear, gasping as she was hoisted into the air by her waist, front end hanging down as she gazed into the stiff, unblinking “eye” of the thing itself.
“Almost ashamed to say, something about puttin’ your friend away inside me has left me all conspicuous in the ‘Private Johnson’. Should make it easier I s’ppose.”
“You ate my friend! You ate her!” Sweetie Belle bawled.
“An’ I’m sorry,” Troubleshoes sighed. “Least you’ll likely drown quick instead a’ running yer’ air dry.”
“I don’t wanna drown in pee!” Sweetie Belle cried, doing her best to struggle in the iron grip of the clydesdale.
“Not ideal, is it? Shame too, yer’ first experience with one a’ these is the opposite circumstances. ‘Stead a’ it going in you, you’re going in it.”
“I-in me?!” Sweetie Belle said, eyes bulging in confusion.
She didn’t have the chance to question, as Troubleshoes flipped her around and let her front half onto the floor, belly-up. She stared up as he leaned over her, aiming his length and pinning her lower hooves together.
“Ready or not,” he said, “here yeh’ come.”
With a pained grunt, the still winded Troubleshoes sank both hooves into his urethra, and before she could act his hooves moved to her tiny waist.
He was ashamed to use such a tragedy to emulate sex, especially with a filly. But if it lost its eroticism, he’d lose it halfway, and forcing the girl down would be much harder. At least, hot-blooded as he was, he could finish the job.
He thrusted forward, groaning as the filly’s knees inched down his shaft, and he slipped his way up her thighs. He could almost pretend the situation were reversed, and she were a bit older, and they were consummating a long and happy courtship. He even bobbed her back out a smidge with each beat.
The strangeness was not lost on him as her tiny waist was slowly drawn in, taking her fillyhood inside. But it was with the vanishing of her navel that Sweetie Belle finally uttered hollow sounds of fear. Perhaps, so engulfed, the reality of her situation was only now setting in for her.
“Please!” Sweetie Belle finally groaned, forehooves scrabbling to pry his unyielding grip as it shifted to her shoulders. “You can’t do this! You’re killing us to save yourself! How can you live with that?!”
Troubleshoes moaned as he shoved her in up to her collar, eyes closed as Sweetie Belle felt the flesh surrounding her throb. “It’s a reality I’ve tried to deny,” he said, huffing as her hind hooves began prying open the entry to his bladder. “But for so long I’ve been called an outlaw, cast out, incapable of doing right by ponies even when I want to so badly.
“That’s destiny for ya’ though. Way I figure, I’d best embrace it, and be the true outlaw. This is the sign, the do or die. ‘Sides, if this don’t work, at least it’ll do me in. Be one less bad apple in Equestria.”
“B-but… But! Augh—!” Sweetie Belle protested, just before she was gagged by the phallus working up her face.
Hooves on her head, he moaned as he pushed her down. Wide eyes stared back at him, her nostrils breathing sharply, ragged with fear. He winced from the sharp pain and exertion of taking in her wide head, but the pleasure of it only spurred him on.
Without a chance to scream into the walls of his shaft, her hooves breached his bladder, and all but the tip of her horn and hair was sucked in. Having only but to sink further into the organ, Troubleshoes lifted his member and let gravity assist, as he stroked her further down. Her horn vanished, the rest of her mane being drawn in shortly after, as she slowly curled up into his bladder.
Troubleshoes groaned in ecstasy, as soon, only Sweetie Belle’s head remained in his urethra. He wondered, again, if he’d miscalculated. Her wide head sat pinned against his hips and pubic bone, and that simply wouldn’t do.
His hooves alone could not force her the rest of the way in, but he had an idea. Feeling the squirm of Applebloom beneath him, he actually had two.
One hoof still stroking his girth, the other dragged Applebloom out before him, the confused and terrified filly eyeing the bulge with an inscrutable expression.
Troubleshoes grabbed one of her hind legs and spun her around, until she was on her back, squarely facing him, with one hind leg splayed to the side.
Not a word passed between them as he leaned over her, hoof leaving his shaft to seize her around the waist. He seemed to sit on his own crotch, pressing his member lengthwise, base on the ground. The rest of it found itself atop the young Apple’s crotch, grinding into it as her cheeks flushed with the sensation.
The color in Applebloom’s cheeks only deepened as he began to thrust hard against her tiny slit, shaft running against her and slowly spreading her innocent flower. She felt his medial ring run across her tiny bump as it went, making her sigh. With every thrust though, she felt the large bump of Sweetie Belle’s head slam into her and against the floor as he put his weight into it.
Sweetie Belle could be heard protesting sharply to the impacts, muffled by the flesh, but Troubleshoes only responded by committing to still harder thrusts. Meanwhile, Applebloom had given herself to the intoxicating new sensations, hind legs apart and raised as she indulged in the rubbing which confounded her so.
Before long, she began to spasm, gasping as though she had galloped a mile. It was too much for Troubleshoes, who only felt the fullness and tension on and in his member, as well as the slickness of the filly’s spread flower coating it.
A final slam of his weight made a shrill cracking noise, and Troubleshoes felt Sweetie Belle’s head push past his pubic bone, as she settled silently into his packed bladder.
He recoiled from the sensation before pulling back from the inebriated Applebloom, and giving a last few furious strokes to his shaft.
Applebloom shrieked as his member erupted in spurts of hot white, coating her in spurt after spurt of ropey strands, as he moaned from the orgrasm.
“Wha— W-white?” Applebloom wondered aloud, gazing at a glob on her hoof. She then looked to Troubleshoes. Aside from a slight bulge above his stallionhood, there was no sign of her unicorn friend. “Sweetie Belle?! She melted?! You turned her into goo?!”
“Oh, you poor innocent thing,” Troubleshoes said, shaking his head. “Nope, she’s right here. Gone silent, unconscious I reckon. Think her skull cracked on the way in. Hopeful-like, she won’t wake up before anything else happens.”
Applebloom was shaking, not even thinking to flee.”Th-then, what is this stuff?”
“Well,” he began, grabbing hold of her leg, “important thing is, it slickens you up to make the next part easier. Come on, young’n. Time to join your friends.”
“Wait, no!” Applebloom shrieked as she was dragged back beneath his crushing weight. “No no no no no no no! Lemme’ go, I won’t say anythin’, I promise! I won’t go back, I’ll run away an’ live with parasprites! I’ll do anythin’ if you don’t put me up your butt!”
“Too late, young’un,” Troubleshoes groaned, clutching his gut as he shifted his weight. “Either somepony’d find you and wriggle it out of yeh’... or you’d die cold and hungry in the wilderness. Or, more like, you’d have no reason to keep your word once I could no longer catch yeh’.”
Pressed flat on her belly, Applebloom used all of her menial strength to lift against the stallion’s bulk. She felt him shift, and tried harder still to free herself, hoping a moment’s chance would grant her the time to flee.
With the slightest noise, she felt her efforts find purchase as her rump could finally move, and she put all of her force into sliding back into the hot—
Applebloom only stopped her advance after sensing the conspicuous absence of cool air, and the hot, moist sensation in its place. To her horror, she had shoved herself rump-first into the very crevice she feared, four legs and head suddenly scrambling to pull free.
Troubleshoes let out a surprised whinny, before standing up. Applebloom now saw her situation in full, hooves grabbing for his tail overhead, as if reaching for vines in a quicksand pit. The tail did nothing but curl back.
“Ya’ plum perplex me,” the stallion sighed. “First you hate it, then you shove yourself in, now you’re pawin’ your way out?”
Still clutching the tail, desperately trying to keep from slipping in deeper, she found his dock and bit down as hard as she could.
“YAW!!!” Troubleshoes bellowed, prancing from hoof to hoof in pain.
Applebloom released him from her little jaws with a gasp as the muscled ring contracted around her. With terror, she realized instead of shoving her out, the puckering sphincter was drawing her slightly deeper. She was past the point of no return.
As he wheeled around, Applebloom heard him tinker with something, and heard a clatter from something else. Suddenly, she was faced a full one-hundred-eighty degrees, and a wash of heat suddenly met her from the front as well as her back. She stared at a yellow-hot coal, sat upon a plate on the floor, and watched as it grew larger in her vision.
She gasped, sweating as the heat grew more pronounced. The message dawned on her: out meant blistering agony, and in meant safety.
“I sat on enough hurtful things accidental-like to grow ‘ccustomed to it, little beau. I can promise you’ll give in ‘fore I do. You know how this ends. Tuck yourself in, now. Time for the sleep.”
The filly simpered as the coal grew inches from her face. She couldn’t give up on escaping, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Instinct betraying her, she shrank back, retreated slowly inside the body of their murderer. She wanted to vomit as she felt the anal walls sliding over her scalp and under her chin. Her ears folded back, slowly filled with nothing but the muffled gurgles of his gut.
The dryness of her face kept the sphincter open enough for her to see light, even once her head was well and truly inside his rectum, but it didn’t last. Slowly, he clenched, beginning to seal her inside.
“This ain’t like I’m in your belly!” Applebloom cried while she could. “You can’t keep me in here forever! I can climb outta here! I’ll get out!”
With a wash of heat, the sphincter sealed over her. To draw her deeper, Troubleshoes clenched and pushed in time. Finally relaxing, he answered, “No, you won’t.”
Having already retrieved it, Troubleshoes hovered over the comically sized rubber stopper he kept in private. The first two fillies he was sure about, but he knew his backside was up to the task of the third. Years of explored curiosity had proven that.
But he was concerned she could escape his rectum, and ol’ Stuffy was going to solve his fears.
He could hear a surprised yelp down below as he sat upon the trusty plug, nearly the size of the filly herself. He felt her wriggle as it force her deeper, past the bend and into the sigmoid. He felt her slide and settle into his left side, feeling her shudder now and then. Perhaps she was crying.
But what was done was done. He made his way to bed, removing the plug, knowing she couldn’t escape from so deep. Lying down on his back, he felt the fillies beneath his skin. One dead-center in his belly, another the same further down, and the last between them to the side, closer than it probably seemed. He looked no different, the trio barely putting a bump in his gut.
He wasn’t sure he’d repeat this, but he was glad to finally live his purpose. He was grateful to them for that, if only it hadn’t meant such a fate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hooves knocked heavy on the shack door. “Clyde!” Silverstar demanded. “Open up, this is the Sheriff!”
“And he ain’t alone!” Applejack added, eyes alight.
They were near to breaking down the door when it opened, revealing the great Clydesdale.
“Nelly…” Applejack balked, taken by his size.
Troubleshoes himself looked weary and pale, clutching his gut and groaning. “C-can I help ya?”
Silverstar himself was derailed by his appearance, his accusatory demeanor faltering. “Three fillies are missing, Clyde. Plain gone from their beds. An earth pony, pegasus and unicorn. And you’re the only pony in town I could even dream of causing such a thing.”
“That’s harsh, ain’t it?” Troubleshoes asked, wobbling back towards his bedpan. “I done nothing worse’n—”
Barely making it, Troubleshoes heaved into the pan a crimson ichor, then wheezing to catch his breath.
“I… I know,” Silverstar granted, the fire in his eyes all but doused. “But I couldn’t think of who else— Urgh!”
Applejack and Silverstar were taken aback, as without warning the massive stallion let down his proportionate member and filled the bedpan some more. The pair glanced his weak knees and a stream of blood before turning their backs with a shout from one and a blush in the other.
Still, they heard his debilitating groans of agony as he relieved himself. Applejack turned to the Sheriff.
“He’s sicker n’ a dog!” she whispered. “You sure about this? ‘Cause he don’t look like he could foalnap alfalfa on rye, much less three kids.”
“Mmm,” Silverstar agreed before turning to the stallion, who was leaning against the wall, sweating bullets.
“Sorry to bother ya’ Clyde. We’ll look elsewhere. Still, maybe this is punishment for your mess at the rodeo earlier?”
Troubleshoes spared a moment to look up. “Yeah,” he groaned, belching, “perhaps so.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pair walked off, leaving the stallion to himself.
“Well that’s just great,” Applejack muttered. “Now I’m worried sick, and we’ve got no leads!
“Are you certain he’s not got ‘em somewhere?”
Silverstar shrugged. “Always possible I guess, but in that shack? Just where’d he have hidden ‘em?”
