The Littler, Now Bigger, Hornier Sister

The Littler, Now Bigger, Hornier Sister
B_25

Warm weather evoked warmer bodies. It’s the law of the world—for ponies and those daring to near them. Air transitioning to rich scents of pheromones and musk. Sweaty bodies and drenched flanks. Water was always present. Its form was what changed. Either you showered bathed in the liquids of your pores.

Those in love, or lust, with another enjoyed such times.

Those having none, felt the heat reminiscent hell.

Applejack turned and flopped, her back laying against the trunk of wood, nestling her rump in the thighs of the tree. Pointy grass tickled the furs there with fiery strokes. It took her head and wiggling her flanks to choke oxygen from the fire building.

She was also thirsty. But had come with a drink.

Applejack pushed up on the side of her hat, knocking it off as it flipped, falling to the ground. It landed on its top and exposed its interior. She peered over without leaving her recline. Too lazy of a day to do such a thing.

The brim condensed into a large chamber. Rich fragrance of luxurious shampoo lingered within the space. Left by her hair, she lowered her snout anyway, drinking in her own smell. So desperate to become drunk on the aroma of a mare. Rainbow Dash would love her like this. Applejack wasn’t submissive often.

Her orange hoof lazily dug into the hat, seeping out the vial lodged within it. She crashed it into the tuft chest, shaking her head, moaning at its frosty touch. It chilled her burning kin, cooled her heated fuzz; the respite slowly ceasing as the temperature of the medicine inside, a sludge of thick blueness, became heated by her body.

Applejack’s eyes swept shut and she laughed. The night they were going to have! Small and helpless in the grand sea of sheets once her bed. The giant mare sprawling outward bigger than any ship. Stuffed between those delightfully tight flanks of cyan, supple and pulled firm, clenching all around her, sporadically, swallowing her slowly into the depths of her heated crevice.

Or how Rainbow’s titanic thighs would fly out on either side, spanning far beyond her little body, their plumpness too broad and outreaching to ever to see over. Grander than the walls in Canterlot Castle—immense softness still better protection. Both of them thickening inward during their journey.

And then Rainbow Dash’s special place, the crotch made into the size of a crop, all to the tiny mare standing before it. A field of thatch above rolling mounds, each vine a different colour, long strands draping over the sides of the towering slit, covering lanes on her juicy hills. Dense locks containing in Rainbow’s dirtiest fragrances. Musk compounded unto itself. The unique certified smell of Rainbow Dash.

Applejack pressed and lifted the vial across her chest, allowing the glass to fill into the shallow hollowness of her throat. She then passed into underneath her jaw. When its tip graced her chin, she flicked the latter up—uncorking it.

How fantasticthe view would be! Rolling her head in place, the glass rim pressed in the space beneath her lips. Both of them firm and juicy, needing exactly the same against her own.

Her other hoof snaked to her belly. Moan after moan followed by the cooing of a groan. Her stomach was hugged by the blanket of sunlight, retaining its heated embrace within the furs there. Each stroke there a circle, every succession edging downward, inch by inch. Applejack’s legs spread outward, hungrily anticipating the contact. Wisps of steam wavered into the air. Her exposed vulva beyond lubricated. It dripped—pelt plat—against the grass.

Though her mind wasn’t with her cunt. Even as her hoof shadowed over the rolling mounds of darkened cream, her closed eyes took her into another, one blue and towering, housing her minuscule frame without the tiniest sag.

How dirty it was to dream. To be nestled between staggering folds with her body partly stuck out, veiled by the cosmic waterfall of a tail. Its grand curve arching, strands sizes of roads flicking through the way, everything swaying from the shifting of mighty hips in the great beyond above.

A natural beauty, captured only by one, someone having to be small.

No other way to enjoy such a view.

Outside of the fantasy, the back of Applejack’s head slid left across the bark, nearly falling beyond its hold. The vial was poised between her lips, but not through them, the edge of her hoof teasing her nub downstairs. The bundled, fuzzy delight, tightly packed with nerves, all of them serving to stimulate. Milking it struck shudders quivering throughout her frame.

The wobbles of her flanks, rising and dropping, collecting in the air and flattening against the grass, always delicious.

Her tiny body then played over that nub of blue, throwing her arms and hugging the hardness against the base of her barrel, pleading with the heat to transfer against her. For hot air to blow from the confines behind. To be drenched in sweat and cum and other bodily fluids.

Applejack slipped the vial past her lips as the edge of her hoof did the same with her folds. She flicked within her slit and kicked an errant leg against the grass. Closer and closer was the rise of her high from touching the ceiling that would bring about a total collapse.

Which then came.

Hot spurts of honey dousing outward; cool sludge of blue sloshing inward. Overly rich taste of liquidized blueberries blotched Applejack's tastebuds with the quality of drinking medicine. It cooled her inflamed throat, all the inflamed muscles it touched—chilling and contracting them, tightening her skin, condensing the flesh beneath.

A hug from within, reaching out and pulling in, a comfortable embrace.

The mistake wasn’t in drinking the potion. Nor was it failing to keep away from masturbation. It was the mixture of the two, however, causing the mare’s eyes to close. Twitches in Applejack's legs warned to keep awake. Though Applejack slept, despite the burning of wetness stained to the fuzz of her thigh, keeping her scent alive.

The mare slept while she shrunk, slowly and slowly, dwindling inch by inch, feeling the need to keep awake but too drunk to ignore sleep. Those half-formed thoughts formed before closed eyes but not yet a closed mind. She’d nap and then make it to the bedroom. Or... something like that.

Echoes of tremendous but distant thuds roused her from slumber, drawing the need for her back to wiggled against the wood, pushing out the sides, trying to pop the deeply nestled kink within her spine. Her hooves spread and stretched out during this. Soft rollings of the head to crack all that had been stored from the nap.

The rumbles breaking and quaking through the grass and beneath the ground, however, roused her eyes to suddenly split. Winds struck, pushing densely and heavily like ones encountered during a storm.

Applejack still laid back against the wood, only, its sprouting roots raised like thighs on either side. Tall like wooden walls, curved and composed like and from natural bark. The view nestled fear despite the apparent peace.

Maybe the quaking ground, moving her around, was the cause of tension trickling into her veins. The next crash of something grand bounced the tiny mare from her recline, throwing her up and onto her side—which slammed against the sloped wall of wood. Broad it was now despite the once narrow rise barely holding the width of her back.

Her body rolled onto the field of grass. Dirt composed the ground beneath her body, the spades of green rising like trees, swaying in the midsummer breeze. Applejack lifted her head, golden locks swept back, her hat now lost.

She gazed up, however, to find it.

The monolithic structure spanned greater than any colosseum despite its makings of stitching. Its narrowed top meshed into the ground, allowing the broad rim above to spanned vastly like a brown saucer. Something small grown monolithic in a cosmic world.

That thought dying upon the crashing of the twin lemon saucers. The tiny mare barely raised to her hooves before the feeling of something utterly titanic was approaching. The echoes of thuds warned her something drew near. It was from within the forest of grass Applejack gazed up to the approaching structure.

The structure that was her little sister.

Applejack stood within the land of shadows cast by the filly overhead, the one spanning areas worthy of many buildings as her frame towered above. Her hooves crushed schools' worth of grass as the spades crunched softly beneath the immense mass of hooves. Both pillars of butterscotch crashing too closely.

“Sis?” The voice, soft and sweet, sounded as though it came from behind a collection of clouds. Loud without being overbearing. Commanding despite being a question. It tingled fear and awe behind the ears. “You here? Gettin close to supper. Granny’s been callin... Applejack?”

Applejack wasn’t sure to appear or disappear to the mass of mare standing over her. She strode out away the towering pillars composed nothing more of stubby forelegs caught within the growing throes of puberty. Keeping beneath the frame spanning the view above also didn’t seem wise.

But moving back displayed another price.

Applejack froze in her turning inside the land of shadows. Gazing up showed something she should have never seen. Those hind legs arched into the sky, building into little thighs, richly thick, tucking into a place of tightness.

Or those colossal flanks, pertly round as they wobbled above, tightly packed into the taut rump. Watching them slide against the other, warming the divot with their rubbing, creating a soft place for one to stay. Applejack clenched her eyes and shook her head, stepping back, both physically and mentally.

Good thing she did too. Those mighty flanks in the air took into a dive, crashing like curved suns into the ground below—summoning tremors from the world. They rumbled the little mare further backward, jumping from stumbling hoof to stumbling hoof. She danced around pebbles now bolder, transferring her the shadow of the filly to that of that hat.

“Huh? Whuzhthat?” Applejack froze in her dancing as her hooves found stable footing, but a great weight crashed into her back. She lifted her head, rather slowly, pushing through a significant force to look up—realizing she’d been fighting through the pressure of the giant’s gaze. “Some orange bug? Don’t like a critter I’d ever seen before.” Her titanic leaned in from the vast sky beyond. “N-No, w-wait. Is that. Are you... A-Applejack?”

Those tunnels of nostrils sharply exhaled, two currents composed of warm blasts striking Applejack in the chest. Her hooves into the dirt as she slid inched back, turning her muzzle and blunting the blow. Happy squeals boomed from the lips shut ahead.

“Knew you just had to be here! Not like ya to leave your hat!” Applebloom quickly reclined to her fullest height, the smooth curve of her playground of fuzz peeking out, a tummy lightly lax. Her chest hovered in the clouds. Muzzle blurry due to its grand portions.

Except for the mile-smile.

Applejack swallowed. It’d been a while since a word was uttered by her mouth. The monolithic world, adjusting to it, all of it stunned her into silence. Everything bore a supernatural quality. Things she feared to dare interfere with. And the same had washed over her sister. The little filly she loved. Always looking for a reason to rub her mane and rustled her bow.

But now her forelegs were planted in the arenas before the pudge of her thighs. Her crotch barely above the ground. Darker fuzz different from the rest, settling only into a thatch, just growing in. The peek of the peak of tight slit. Everything else tucked beneath the curve of her bottom, all pressed into the ground.

While her gaze was swept with the land of the crotch, one of the lemon hooves lifted from the grass, turning over, tilting forward. The vast sole landed into the patch of grass, a current of wind blowing from the impact. It lifted strands of blond mane—an effect unnoticed by the giant.

Another cause for fear, but what choice did Applejack have? Turning her head away and gazing down her barrel, all behind her was the sprawling forests of grass marked by trees unable to be fully seen. Trekking back to the house would take more than a few days; finding out where it even was would take even more.

So Applejack threw herself into the broad upside hoof. It stood at a tilt her tiny body struggled to climb upon. The golden globes above, glowing eyes of brilliance, watching her with that same amused smile. Wasn’t often Bloom had one over her. Being tiny was the filly’s only time of superiority.

Which Applejack had to consent to.

Even as she wrestled herself onto the field of yellow fur, willing herself higher despite the tilt, stuffing her face into the soft, fuzzy, baked sole of her sister. She wiggled and wiggled to climb higher on it. Though she gasped as the structure then shifted, coming to rise, Applejack’s back legs dangling off the side.

Applejack groaned and writhed her body, wiggling every limb on the shifting platform, trying to find purchase. Her hind legs kept kicking against the fluffy cliff in order to get a rise. Her plump rear wobbling to get itself settled on the living platform.

That ceased, however, when the ride did as well. On the hoof, the tiny mare hung from its back; most of her body crossed over its rim, though with her legs still draped over inches of its back. The air warmed as the tall grass loomed below. It looked as it should have from up here. Though the giant body of her sister did not.

Applebloom’s muzzle. Vast and round and devouring Applejack’s vision. She could barely keep a fraction of the eyes and a portion of the snout within her eyes. Her body shrivelled into itself from the monolithic scale the muzzle before her bore. Crushing how insignificantly tiny the poor mare was.

And finally. Finally finally finally! After the orange mare clambered onto the center of the dome, finding her jittery legs now kept her up straight... she opened her mouth, drawing a deep breath to shout—only to hear the sky roar an order before her.

“Bloom! Supper’s ready!”

As if instinct commanded it, the mass of soft yellow rises, consuming a great quality of space once more. The filly snapped around in a whirl. Applejack dropped and hugged the flat surface of the hoof with her life—fighting from being ripped off by harsh winds. In the muzzle hovering in the sky to the right, however, the eyes flicked down to her.

Applebloom’s eyes searched around like boulders rolling in place. They turned before settling on a sight. One familiar for the time this happened before. Without further thought, the taut, broad barrel curved left—the hoof shooting over the narrowed landscape of the filly’s back.

Until it hovered over the dense tail contrived of scarlet.

Applejack shook her head at the idea, slowly rising to her hooves, spotting the blurry wonder of the back of the filly’s head in the distant. Her muzzle edged only an inch to the left, the back of her eye settled on her. One last glance before what was done... was done.

The hoof was tilted and there was nothing to grab onto. Applejack slammed her rump into the palm, her supple flanks wobbling deliciously, doing nothing to slow her descent. There was a shiver through the frame of the giant. Washing ashore of pinkness on the corner curve of the distant cheeks of the afar muzzle.

Applejack slid over the rim and flipped backward. Her back plummeted through the winds while her hooves flailed in the air. Nothing to do; nothing to scream. Within seconds her plummeting came to a cease. Something densely soft breaking her fall, the rustling of things akin to leaves whispering into her ears. She sunk through the foliage of red, limbs becoming tangled up, her body slowing into an eventual suspension.

Everything was still inside the new world. Caught within the center of the densely-packed tail. Overflowing strands sprawled in great curves and numbers over and below and around her. Everything like a giant rest bush without any branches. Multiple vines had latched around Applejack’s wrists and legs, around her barrel like a loving arm wrapped around her lower back.

She even chuckled at how comical this would appear.

The world started to move. It began slowly but quickly quickened. Rises that went high and drops crashing vigorously, shocking waves through the world of red vines. Applejack was jostled in her place. Though every drop she lowered as well. Not by much. But every step doing just a little bit. Lowering and decreasing until reaching the thickest inward curve in the middle of the tail.

The thick stands obscured the view below with their many vines, but the gap in-between teased with slits to the view beyond Applejack’s current world. Though the view wasn’t much better than the world that housed her. Not when she considered exactly where the grinning filly had dropped her.

Through the vines of the tail, rendered hazy by distance, the broad peaks of sunny hills shifted together down below. Little flanks bloated with pudge teasing them to the level of supple. Tightly-packed fat wobbling ever so smoothly from merely walking. One flank rising over the over, tons of plushness sliding into the other, flattening into a thick puddle of plushness. Juicy was sour to the tongue.

But it popped into Applejack’s mind regardless.

For even though she could have shaken her head and turned away her eyes, deciding to deal with sweating her heat out... her eyes didn’t lift from the shifting globed curved to subtle perfection. Their thunderous jiggles moaning more in the little hills of lemon provided by the filly.

Rainbow’s mountains would wobble due to the fatness of her flanks, toned by the lax muscles trained beneath them. But where she was broad and the jostles could go on for more—the same was not true here. With Bloom they were little, lasting shorter, causing them to be more precious, utterly unique as a result.

All the poor, heated, confused mare could do was stare, watching the tightly bundled crevice widened than tightened after every step, watching the dusky depths peek out before being covered by tush once more. The siren call of booty was hard to neglect.

Applejack fell forward in her suspension. Tangled hanging forward while the vines tightly held her. One of her forelegs had been caught underneath her chest and going across her belly. Unconsciously, her hoof stroked her fur, warming it up, sending teasing electricity to the spot just a little bit lower. But she never reached down there. Only even inching toward it—before diving back up.

Outside the tail, the filly then happily walked, with a long sway to her little hips off into the distance. The house marked the horizon. And the sisters would return to it, together, but only they would be aware of this fact.