The Littler, Now Bigger, Hornier Sister

~ I ~

Fair on the Chair

Applebloom heard the sounds without drawing close. She watched the show with ill-intent. It hadn’t been right and very much was wrong. But the subject was something she felt and never was something ever taught. Heat bustling through her body, its condensation found between her legs.

Applejack was lying back against the tree with her orange coat then covered in sweat. Fields of fuzz moist with her scent. Natural and rich. Consuming on the snout; breathed in rather easily. It reeked of something fantastic. It tickled and pleasantly pricked at her pudgy little hips. Compact thighs dense with thickness rubbing side by side.

And that special place between them becoming rather wet. Applejack had stroked the same place, the arching of her back and writhing of her spine milking something from the contact. But blotched fear swelled in Applebloom’s heart. Touching that place seemed foreign, wrong.

And she was far too scared to proceed by herself.

But when she came back. When that giant mare was no longer to be found—only found smaller than grass between her hooves... something in the filly sparked. The stealing of her being taking her the destination she sought. Heat claimed her. But maybe a sister could quell this fuzziness of steam buried beneath her skin.

The door creaked open and dull thuds of wood creaked beneath her hooves. Bigger they were now than the months before. In passing the archway leading into the kitchen, where lines craved in the wood spoke of one’s size—the lightly yellow ones, the indention coloured in by pencil, showed hers ever on the rise.

“Bloom?” Applebloom slowed as she came before the table. It was always too high for her eyes—they barely saw over it now despite it all. The world consistently so large and she always so small. Her hips flung around to discharge the energy: feeling a pebble of orange sway within her tail. “Where you’ve been?”

Applebloom kicked a hoof and looked down. “Went to fetch Applejack fer supper.”

“She out there?”

“Nu-uh. Rainbow came in again.” Applebloom raised her face but did not the same with her gaze, which came to settle to the side. Her throat croaked as lies were never nice to her voice. “Said the two had to do one thing or another. Sis seemed happy goin’ off.”

Big Mac sat at the table and was the only one sitting at the table. He leaned over a bowl though didn’t dare to look in. His cooking was never kind to his tongue—and even less on the eyes. His bulking frame leaned back into the seat. Those soft eyes becoming interested in the ceiling. “Don’t think I can bring myself to be annoyed even if I dared tried.”

Applebloom blinked as looped around the table. He’d barely see her back as she walked past, coming to the chair set on the opposite side of him. Slowly, she brought her forehooves against the seat. “Just what do you mean like that?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Even while she struggled to get onto the seat, the older brother kept his eyes focused above. “Just a grown-up thought you ain’t quite ready to get just yet.” He sighed something heavy. “Though maybe that ain’t a kind thing to say. Celestia hope these kinds of thinkings come to you far later in life.”

Applebloom’s settled on the bottom bar of wood on the chair, her hind hooves finding purchase, firmly. With her body arched, she shot a pout. “Why you always have to keep me guessin about these kinds of things? Ya know I’m gonna figure it out sooner if I keep havin’ to think about it over and over.”

Big Mac finally dropped his muzzle. “Yer right. Sure you know your sister is the kind of girl to work really hard. But I fear she’s never lived the kind a life a girl outta.”

Bloom tilted her head. “I don’t get it.”

“What I mean to say is your sister has something I don’t get—something we won’t go into the matter of.” Mac sighed once more. He seemed to sigh more than exhale lately. “She could be livin’ more of a life that a girl normally does. But she’s never been swept love or anything like that. The kinda different for a brother and a sister.”

Bloom kicked and pushed herself onto the seat, the words entering her ears in a jumbled state. There was something of a connection forming from them all. Even though she didn’t quite get it. Bloom felt compelled to nod anyway. “Guess I sort of understand. Kind of love that ponies get married for. Kisses mean something a little more, right?”

“Not that they mean more,” Mac said slowly, “but that they do something differentlymore.”

“Ya lost me again.”

Mac sighed a final time. “Point I’m makin’ is yer sister never enjoyed that kind of love before. And worried she may miss it. But ever since she’s gotten close to that friend of hers, she’s living better. But also means she’s on the farm less.” His hoof wrapped around the spoon sticking out the side of the bowl. “And though she’s suddenly cuttin’, something I should be upset about... I ain’t.”

“Because she’s living more of that life of love you were talking about?”

“Catching on, kiddo.” Mac smiled as he lifted spoon—dense sludge of brown slopping off its metal sides and splattering with a thick splash back into the bowl. An occasional bean peeked out from the mess. “Actin’ like a teenage filly. Since she never got ta be one... I can’t be fussed about it. Rather her go through it now then now at all. Not like her to be flitish. It’s... nice.”

Applebloom learned long ago that, when interest was lost, not to bob your head. Do it slowly, seconds after each final word. Do it slowly but not lowly. Ponies will think you’re simply in the process of getting it, understanding. They never assumed the opposite. It was nice.

“Though all of that,” Mac said while shovelling the spoon in-between his lips, seeming for a reason to keep his mouth from closing, “should be enough for you to chew on for a week or two. Grab some grub.” He then exhaled. His chest heaved inward, and his muzzle leaning outward. “Second thought. Let’s get you a bowl of cereal instead.”

Was fate being kind to her? Applebloom’s chest dropped as something heavy left it. Her rump raised into the air as a result, feeling—good. She blinked. It wasn’t like her to strike a pose. But there was something in how her back arched, flanks pushed out, cool air collecting against the warm, tucked away place that did something to her.

Like the heat within lightened in its tension.

Like a release held by the pose would be promised.

“Gonna sit down there anytime soon? Maybe AJ hasn’t taken your place as teenage filly just yet after all.” Applebloom shook her head. How long had she been out? Glancing to the left, Mac was already pulling out boxes from the cupboards neighbours with some clouds. “Just gonna fix you somethin’ quick. No tellin’ sis when she gets back ‘bout this.”

It was enough to make her laugh. Both siblings were like this. Together routine had to be followed; separate was when vices were allowed. One didn’t have a clue about the other. Another theme following throughout the day.

But then came the tickles. The pulling and winding and twirling of hairs. Bloom snickered her snout left then right, fighting the pleasant bristling within her tail. The little mare was fighting through her red bush. It tickled because of how that tiny body fought and fell through her tail.

Those surging feelings, however, sparked further heat.

But then came the squeaks. Not from the filly—but the tail. Little voice loud enough only to be heard by the one that herded it. Over at the counter, Big Mac’s head whizzed up. His ears perked, flicking. He’d caught something. Listening for it again.

What to do? Applebloom stood with her tush still out for a reason, gazing back at her tail, spotting the speck of orange in the sea of scarlet. She’d already lied. It was too early to pay the price until her curiosity had been settled. Whispering and shushing the tiny wouldn’t do anything. It needed to be something immediate that would silence her for good.

The nestled heat between her legs sparked an idea.

Applebloom grinned as she swatted a hoof through her tail, feigning an inch as the soft pebble connected with her sole. With minuscule pressure she broke the bound pony free. Falling, the little Applejack plummeted onto the chair, crashing and rolling, slowing into its center.

It wasn’t like her. Ideas like these never ran rampant before. But Applebloom hovered her filly-read over the little sister, feeling strange delight in giving her tight cheeks a little shake, their minuscule ripples across the pert curve delicious to endure. Slowly she lowered, the shadow of her rump drinking in the wood. The mare caught within the epicentre of the crashing and jiggly meteorite.

Applebloom took delight in sitting down, feeling something hard but small wiggled beneath her immense weight. What Big Mac barely saw of her, the other sibling couldn’t drink all of it in. Much less how something like her butt was now able to engulf the mare. Proper mare. One with a bigger hindquarters than her.

But not anymore as she gave said a thing a little rub and a shake.

Applejack cried out in a groan upon the pelting of her body against the wood, shot clear across the landscape from the impact, rolling and the world blurring around her. She was thankful for stopping onto her back to catch her first breath that wasn’t filly—only to have her fears block the sun.

That broad cliff of ass came out from the horizon, its sheer mass blocking the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Two pert flanks of the tights rear hovering closer than over her minuscule body. View of the ceiling transitioned into seeing the thickest swell near the bottom of both cheeks.

The ones falling.

Applejack screamed. Her body writhed in place while her hooves shot into the air. Pitiful attempt to hold sun-kissed moons from falling—but instincts were instincts. Doubt washed over first that her sister, the filly would sit on her, using that glorious rump to engulf her entire frame, to wedge her into a world located underneath her butt.

Both cheeks slammed down against the wood in a dull but loud thud cracking the air only for a second. Everything settled as the cheeks wobbled together, keeping tightly tucked, allowing the filly to sit up. Applejack’s hooves had settled against each flank milliseconds before contact—before both flattened over her body in warm pools of yellow.

Applejack gasped for breath in surprise of not being dead. As far as she could tell, she was lying on her back, utterly splayed against the seat, an incredible mass of plushness pressing around her body, an immense weight behind it. She groaned and wiggled around—making the fuzz-coated ceiling jiggle in response.

That comforted it. The next breath not gasped removed doubt with its taste alone. The filly had tossed her onto the seat and, once ready, sat her butt on top of her. Its heavy weight pinned her. Fighting it evoked mere jiggles and distant giggles. To think that, even in fighting, rising her back as high as possible—pushing against the tons of tush... only more would wobble into its place and fully weigh her down.

Didn’t help the filly was teasing her too. Every so often, those flattened hills swayed, long rights and slow lefts, rolling her body beneath the massive booty. The waterfall of tail draped over the back of the seat. Baking warmth rising from her spot.

Applejack knew she wouldn’t last here. Her sister was deciding to have fun—little teasing for teasing done before—but she knew nothing of the flood gates she was opening up. With her head leaned back, she bit her lip and hug the swell of the flank, collecting its warmth against her chest and barrel, excesses burying itself between her crotch.

She moaned as she slid forward. Doing it again and again, seeing the slit of the world between cheek and wood, knowing she had to find her way to Big Mac. He’d help her. But as she continued now, hugging that curve of cheek, feeling it weigh and jiggled against her chest, flattening heavily against her own burning slit... some ideas were hard to fight.

Indeed Applejack paused for a second in her journey. Here she was underneath the massive ass of the filly, one tight and taut and pert, its pudgy cheek awash over her form. It filled the vast space around her. The smell rich with the sweat of the girl. That, and something else joining the mix.

Applejack didn’t know what took control over her. Only that her eyes closed and her next breath was that of steam. Her limbs rose against the tush, knowing this piece of ass belonged to her sister. But something about how full it was, filled out before its time, something about it... this new kind of pudge... her burning lips sought something from it.

...would she know? The filly above was clacking metal against something akin to it. Sure she was wiggling her tush, uncomfortable from sitting on her sister—but it would have been a game to her. A little joke. Hahaha! I sat on you with my butt.

Sweat came before the mountains of booty slammed and wobbled onto her tininess. Applejack was small to express that stream and catch some heat between her marefriend flank and other such places. And here she was, where she wanted to be—only the pony was different.

The action so much more wrong.

Yet Applejack’s body acted on its own. Kneading the flesh as the best she could against her front, her hips softly rocked against the lax softness, beating her crotch into the flap. She did it again and again. One thrust then two. A few humps to exercise the dog within her.

What must of this looked like from the beyond? Applejack shuddered to know upon snuffing her face into the gushy pile of yellow, smothering her muzzle into the wobbly mass, loving the tightness encasing the softness. Its pertness. How it jiggled on contact though the rest of the cheek wobbled in great waves due to the bouncing and shifting of the giant rump.

But as fresh and burning juices lubricated her lips, however, an immediate change stole the tiny. The cheek pressing into her slowly lifted, streams of light and fresh air sweeping over her diminutive form. Applejack was left panting without any cue as to what to do.

She glanced to the left to see that other cheek harder against the chair, its inward curve laying down on the wood, all while the titanic hips above swayed in place. The yellow cleft, once close, opened in a gap. Only it did so around her... with poor Applejack stuck in the middle.

Applejack cried at seeing the other cheek float in the air, one massive hoof inching into the wood, following the curve of the flank. Gripping the swell, it pulled back, exploding the depths of the dusky divot above. Not enough to give all the way in, the deepest slope covered still by pressed cheeks—but its greater area exposed to the tiny girl on exactly where she was going to go.

Applejack peered into her fate. One cheek rolled outward and kept there by pushing against the chair; the other held back by a hoof showing this was obvious intent. All to stare within the depths of the filly’s crack. Shallow as it was, at this size, went deeper than any tunnel.

And the depths flew upon Applejack as the colossal flanks touched against the wood again. The hoof pulled away before their crash, both cheeks catching on the wood, still parted, exposing inches into the sun-bleached divot.

Both sloped walls of yellow flanked Applejack. Gazing left and right only show the innermost parts of each cheek, their sharper incline into the place leading deeper into the rump. There was still the narrow lane of space exposed between each flank. She was within the butt of her sister, sure, but the walls hadn’t come in just yet.

Applejack stood as Applebloom raised. For a second she glimpsed over the slope of the giant bottom overhead. The vast and long fuzzy belly arched into the air and great beyond like a bridge, a road even made of utter softness. The edge of the table spanned to the sides with heights taller than a castle. Everything so monolithic, so outside her scale of size... the only that was mountable was the interior of her little sister’s tush.

To think the only place she was of scale was within the tush of her little sister. Pert hills of yellow still tremendous and big and a trek to herself—at least they were something akin to her normal world. Climbing hills of grass was easy to do when she was of normal size. But gazing out to the world beyond the butt showed the cosmic size of everything. How, only in this grand and humiliating place could she hope to have any effect or impact.

And only because it was a fraction of her sister’s body.

Such thoughts were wiped when the hoof to the side then pulled away. The immense weight of the flank released from being held back, swaying through the air like a jiggly ram, smacking heavily into the other cheek. Both of them raised slightly so both of them can swing—the twin cliffs swallowing the tiny mare at once.

Applejack kicked and scream within the sudden crevice of heat, finding the walls utterly soft but absolutely crushing, stone that was somehow malleable. She was faintly aware of her limp legs kicking in the air, unable to grace anything. Inside the crack, her back pressed against one side and her front the other, her muzzle tilted upright, struggling to find a pocket to breathe within.

It was so horribly tight within the divot of dusk, the amber dams welled in clumps against the other, piles wobbling into collections against the other, everything shifting but never opening. Laughter, cute and sweet with a dash of cheekiness echoed. Echoing thunderously from within a tin can. One somehow surging all around.

Applejack couldn’t bring herself to cry anymore, not once her fighting legs ceased in their cause, slowing into a stop as they simply hung out from the crevice. The broad rump hovered inches from the seat, though to her, that distance was sufficient for her to dangle from. None else would notice the giant sitting oddly.

Worst was was, in her golden mane falling over her face, the enclosure tightened against it. The supple softness pushed through with a muscle beneath the flesh, manipulating it precisely. Applejack shut her eyes as the twin walls crashed against her completely. No breath nor space. Only fur and fuzz and butt rolled over every inch of her frame.

The filly clenching her cheeks with a little mare caught within the crack of her rear. How the little game to her was a pleasure and thus torture to the small one. Clenching her cheeks tightly only to give them release, their parting centimetres nothing to the older sister. A pocket opening within the cloven space.

Until the pert confine closed against, closing and then crashing in that final gap, completely smothering the sister. Applejack couldn’t do anything as the butt of her sister consumed her. Swallowing her upward, inch by inch, thigh to ankle, tucking her into the fatness that was still tightness. In being smothered in heated walls of fuzzy fur shifting deliciously over her. Taking her deeper into the confines where heat grew and tightness collected without the need of clenching.

Applejack didn’t know when it came. Maybe after the fourth bout of laughter from above. Perhaps after air stopped tickling on her hooves. Within the niche swallowing her upward, where the curved walls now appeared straight, all the little mare knew was that she was inside.

She was deeply tucked away within the rump of the filly, unable to escape or do a thing, curled nearly into a ball. She’d tried lifting her hooves and pushing away the ceiling of immense weight. But her greatest effort sunk into the creamy volume.

It was hard to know if the filly was still clenching her bottom or not. It didn’t make much difference anymore. The rump swayed around because Applejack felt a pulling of a particular direction in her belly. That and how a pile of blonde would splash over another clump from the movement.

Applejack was finding it harder and harder to move. The broadness and length of the crack shrunk as she was swallowed in. Ground and ceiling hugging closer and tighter together further in the depths she then sank. Those walls would hug her like a vice grip now. Regardless of the filly ran or jump or shook her tiny little butt—those walls would hug her tightly and never let her fall.

Worst was how the rubbed over her special place. Clumps of heated tush smacking softly into her crotch, exposed by thighs splayed to the sides, pinned down by nothing by booty. No rope or force needed as an unconscious rear overpowered her despite not being conscious or trying to. Minuscule pussy exposed. Rolled over and pressed into and warmed up by jiggly filly butt.

The ample bottom then slowly crashed into the seat. It was hard to see for the line of sight was smaller than a line in looking out of the ass from within—but there was enough to clue in. Those doughy hills of melted gold had pressed against the seat. Broad tops flattening out. Everything looseness within, the crevice broadening, if only into a crawlspace.

Applejack groaned as if roused from slumber. The epicentre holding her pulled forward while something greater above pulled back. What was happening? The filly sitting properly in her seat. With the little sister wedged firmly up her arse, no squeaks would bounce off her bountiful cheeks. Suppression of the tiny achieved.

And then came the moment of hesitation.

Applejack rolled onto her belly the best she could. The mass of the pressed flanks created a bouncy grounding able to house her weight. Slight fear rouse in their crevice splitting by inches. Not enough for her to fall through, but rather, to see the thickness of yellow further swelling out below. But the tightness of the tush would prevent her from falling through.

She looked back with a gulp. The swell of yellow curved upward to the coin-slot of the crack. Enough of a hole for one to see the rising galactic waterfall of the tail. But getting caught by those hairs, or being caught, sat on once more—Applejack couldn’t handle it.

Couldn’t handle it for many a reason.

For leaving now was harder for reasons beyond physical.

Putting both hooves forward in the narrow, clumped together tunnel of yellow, Applejack parted the globes with sheer force. She strained to part the wiggly fat into a broader gap, one she pressed her forehooves on the back of those same clumps, swimming her legs through the niche, pushing herself through.

Crawling through a crack.

Applebloom didn’t seem to notice or mind. Though her body had been hyper-sensitive to the little tickles of minuscule hooves, she didn’t really respond now, other than moving around in her seat. Though the flanks changed position on the wood, they gripped and held Applejack in the same place. The only change was one of the walls would collapse for a second, smacking and beating and holding the mare, keeping her still before lightly bouncing away and back into the field.

Applejack pushed and spread and crawled through the mass of bubbles given to delicious flesh. Feeling the thickness of the sides thinning while she progressed. Though the sunny slit ahead was always tight, it was becoming bright, at least more colourful than the fuzzy honey all around.

Until the opening appeared.

The flanks perhaps ballooned out near the end, but their juicy shape was appreciated upon representing what comprised the other side. The brightest of the slit reached its apex as an orange hoof shot through it by mistake, expecting to spread the heaviest section of tush, but feeling only fresh airs on her limb. It stuck out for a second, out from the outside curve of the butterscotch balloons, their giant nearly teasing the sight.

From the broadness that was the front of the butt, where the deep, delicious crack sprawled all the way down—it was comical to see all that mixed with the tiniest foreleg of orange sticking out. Long crawl through a cave, hard and taxing and long, only to come out, victorious, from the holding cell of a filly’s bum.

All while her crotch and a portion of her belly sprawled onward, her pudgy, titanic thighs set on either side. They enclosed an arena of wood marked by the long length of her short legs. Another hoof shot out from the inside the crack, both of them wiggling around in freedom, trying to find purchase on the surface of the supple derriere.

They found it on the starting curve diving inward, settling and sinking into the mass, losing up into the elbow until finding hold. Slowly, they pushed, hard and harder, straining to gain inches, widening a slit enough to fit through.

The front of Applejack’s body pushed through from in-between the supple crevice of the sunny globes, herself pushed out into freedom, wiggling into it. But she fell forward. Torso free but waist caught. Her muzzle slamming into the cliff of softness, the tiny impact shooting little jiggles out from the center, each of them, in response, nudging her snout into the lower into the crack preciously escaped.

Fear rose. The sinking suspicion a moon of hoof would press into her back, the little one stuffed into the heart-shaped butt once more. Little wiggles of her own, tiny, orange rump sticking out. She’d been a thick girl when it came to her hindquarters. But that little mass would be utterly swallowed by the once tiny one of her sister.

To think that little booty could slurp up her own with ease.

But that didn’t happen. Rather, in wiggling through the densely packed slit, her hips slipped through the tightness. Applejack flipped over her head, her legs flying over and slamming then below her, smacking into the swollen sunny globes. They jiggled faintly from the impact—before taking the mare for a slide.

Applejack yelped while gravity continuously tugged on her legs, pulling her body across the shallow gap of the sprawling crack, sinking into it, plushness rising like a growing trench. She never sunk inside, however, on reaching the thickest swell of the ballooned cheeks. Her body fell into a pelt against them, which they then trampolined her body over their curve.

Finally. In stretches of softness finally came the concrete of wood. Slender and smooth and rising only slightly in a curve. The towering structure spanning to the heavens shifted in a hazy borne of yellows and reds, a mass unable to be contained by such a meagre gaze. Only that no tower had anything on her.

The tiny mare laid forward on the indention of the chair, her blond mane strewn all over her head. No locks to keep her hair condensed as they become wildly undone. Her little head rose lethargically, the brilliance of green dimmed into a faint glow in her eyes. Her fat rump tuck out, sore in a pleasant pain. The dam of wide booty sprawling before her making her own feeling all so rather small.

And then she started to slide once more.

Slowly but with certainly. Aching limbs and burning lungs fought to keep her down. Though the titanic cheek soon approached, rising higher than hill and connecting to hips greater than what could be seen... Applejack feared being caught beneath it again. Pinned by a flank and stuck there by sweat. But that fate did not occur for the filly had finished her moving.

The towering thighs connected above the hips of the girls. Nothing could be seen over the vertical field of tanned grass. What horrified Applejack, as failed to dig her hooves into the wood, was the rising of something else in the distance. The crotch, rolling up, revealing the starting of a crop born of red.

The thatch was thick and bushy and evenly spread. Bright and scented with the sting over overworked thighs. Within the strands was the collection beyond sweat. Not just trapping of natural body odour tasty in a different way.

Musk embedded the sprouting vines of scarlet.

In the approaching distance came the rise of something better unseen. Beginning of something worsening as it contentiously rose. In the afar, two hills of lemon ran in an elongated curve, patches flat land possible in their middles, all bound in fuzz and a feeling of squish—one far different than Bloom’s tush.

Applejack watched with widened eyes as her body slid toward the sight, unable to handle the rising of the protruding mounds on either side, a nestling of a fuzzy slit in-between their depths. Its top rose high into the air, a hood spouting from its apex, broad enough to house a few waiting for the next carriage to arrive.

Then came the weight of something metaphorical.

Pressing on her shoulders with invisible blocks of something grand. Though her strength was non-existent, Applejack weakly tilted her head, her eyes fighting to find the yellow moon hovering above. And she found it in the blurs of something monolithic. Two orbs of a creamy glow fixated her tiny and sliding form. The giant filly didn’t seem panicked. Only surprised. What had once been one of her greater foes was now nothing of consequence.

And then came the grin of the filly again.

Applejack watched as the crotch lifted, not fully, but enough to expose the base of the towering slit. Of the peach folds peeking out from the recces of the divot. It was so utterly titanic as if to feel like a temple. Holy in the function of something greater, something living, though its purpose currently turned sinister.

Unable to stop her slide, and with the legs of her smaller sister completely spread to take her in, both girls knew exactly where she was going. Applejack felt horror in trying to protest her fate. That Applebloom clearly had no idea what she was doing by taking her sister into such a place. But the filly found only amused in gazing below, watching her tiny sister make contact with her pussy, its intense warmth heating the air before the first touch.

Applejack fought herself from the sight. Not to allow the mile-long cunt of her little sister to devour her like the young ass that had done the same. But even on rising on dead limbs did nothing change. For as she started to rise, the thighs on either side closed in, two walls of pudge slamming into her back—swinging her into the spot she feared most.

Her tiny body pressed and sunk into the bottom curve of one of the rolling mounds, finding the squish far more voluminous here, but also, firmer due to being tauter. There wasn’t space to fight as her hooves laid limply upon it, the pudge encased in yellow shifting, rolling over her back, slipping her frame into the narrow slit. Though space was tight, inside, there was enough parting to gaze within. Dark and damp; steamy and moist. Sounds of sloshing. Dripping collecting into a puddle. The cave living, alive, and seeming divine.

Applejack shook her head, which only parted the in-ward curves of the mounds set on her cheeks, allowing her to sink further into the slit. Her rump filled out against the thighs behind her, the doughy orange moving around, unable to keep still due to fright. And though she couldn’t see it, she knew the filly gazed down from above, amused with having her now little sister wedged partly in-between her folds, set to devour her with her cunt.

All those times of teasing. Paid back in not quite the same way. Applejack moaned on the splattering of hot juices stinging the thick surface of her inner-thighs. About how being devoured by the cunt of her little sister, all while she thought the ordeal innocent and teasing, was now anything but.

And none of that matter for, upon angling her hips perfectly to commit the crime, the filly’s laugh boomed through the clouds. That massive crotch then rolled forward, its immense weight crashing down as the thighs pulled away, the mass of the mounds collecting against the wood, the slit pushing down.

It must have been a magic trick for, when the lips of the wide cunt boomed into the seat, the tiny mare wedged near its base then disappeared. An inch sticking out of what was a mile. An unconscious thing coming down, swallowing her up, wiggling in place for a few seconds more.

And after a few seconds, when the filly arched forward then came leaning back, her crotch rolled up from the spot, leaving no trace of any sort of life. Only wood and a wet place. Slime that was wide. Though it was small, it belonged more than just one.

The accursed heat comes for us all.