~ ∞ ~

Epilogue

It could have been days. Maybe even weeks. Applejack had no clue how long she'd been stuck in the prison located inside the center of her sister's body. The distant heartbeat was a constant melody and everything outside came in muffled. Whenever the filly walked, the mare within endured the sway, unable to do a thing about it.

Until she'd been claimed, once more, into a tight, winding tunnel.

And then there was an opening. The poor mare raised her head as the whole world seemed to squat. She was thankful for the lack of anything that wasn't just the body of her sister. But in the distance, she watched as a hole opened wide—two sunny cheeks too bright on the eyes.

Applejack's miniature body was squeezed out from the hole, caught in her fall by the pert sunny globes, the ones that wobbled her momentum away. Though even at their closest touch she fell through their slit. Crashing and landing on a floor too vast to even comprehend its limited horizon.

The tiny mare gazed up to see the jiggle of the filly's cheeks, the massive butt having dished her out... how it connected to the rest of the monolithic mass hovering above. The back of Applebloom's head turned from up in the clouds, looking down, pleased with what she had just done with her sisters.

As well as the two other giants located in the room.

Applebloom was the first to turn and then fall onto her bottom, the thud and the crashing summon a sweeping of air. Far next to her, Sweetie belle did the same, landing, with Scootaloo doing the same from somewhere behind.

All of the fillies then pushed out their legs, spreading them apart, making it so their hooves all touched. They formed a triangle with their bodies alone. The towering size of their legs ensured the tiny mare wouldn't be able to escape.

The fillies all watched from above with amused expressions and glinting eyes. Each sat with their crotches fully exposed. The massive slits and differently coloured mounds marking every horizon. And while Applejack had a choice in which one to pick—her fate was that in always being devoured.

Author's Note

This, without a doubt, is my most fucked up story. Only a few of you will have made it to the ending of this tale. If you were willing to endure all of that... then maybe you are able to hear out the backstory of the writer.

Foalcon is not something for me. Even this story barely scratches such a thing. I know. The world ‘filly’ is used a lot where maybe I would have been better to use teenager. Maybe it’s all one in the same. Rest assured, however, Bloom is beyond a child in this fic.

I was at Bronycon during the time of the idea. There are two artists when it comes to macro/micro that I revere more than any region. NC MARES and Pony Throat. Both of them were swell to meet at the con. I grabbed everything I could from their booths.

Tsitra360, however, was running low on prints, as they should be when considering the excellent quality of their work when I’d arrived. I didn’t think much about what I was buying. Only that I was buying something from a legend, which they would sign, whom I could talk to for a second—the actual content was irrelevant. I would have bought everything if able.

It was only in bringing this piece home that something about it clicked in my skull. The piece is just brilliant. It is one of the few arts able to make one feel tiny, actually immersing them in that fantasy is where its brilliance lies. Applebloom and everything else looks so utterly gigantic—I know at once a story had to be written for it.

If it were not for the greatness of the art... I would never have written such a thing. But in so I then did. This story took a few tries to get right—and even then I failed in all my attempts. Considering the market of Fimfiction, I’d expected the story to do better... but it bombed.

But I was not writing for the attention, nor the praise—all things considering. Rather it was in following the feeling the cover caused... and then where it diverged. The theme of the story became: “Those who lose their will... are devoured by fate.” This is seen that, after submitting, Applejack is then eaten by her sister.

I wish I could say there was pride in writing this story. But no such success will I dare to claim from it. The story wasn’t for me, and the writing behind it proves it. The matter simply isn’t to my taste, and it’s a subject too taboo for my liking. But when I saw the art, I said I would write a story for it.

And sometimes that’s all there is too it.

Later, gang.

Yr. Pal, B