//------------------------------//
// Denim and Overalls 
// Story: Pipshrink 
// by B_25 
//------------------------------//


Pipsqueak Shrinks
B_25 & Vanilla Beam


It'd been a long week at Canterlot High, a series of tests, crammed, back to back without minimal space for study. Waking up worn to stumble to school to nearly pass out from the drainage of the next test. Knowing the next class would be the same. Silence and the occasional cough. The scratching of pencil and pen on multiple sheets of paper.  

Unable to speak. Nothing to listen to. Everything able to lighten the mood—removed.

The last day tasted like the freshness of a breeze on warmed skin. That is to say it tasted like freedom. Walking out of the stuffiness of the school to the beauty of open air. Feeling the sunlight wash across the skin to make the boy feel renewed. 

And, even then, the week was not over for Pipsqueak. No he would not be going home and passing out in his bed for the next two days. Eating in his room and not caring for bathing the same. Maybe watching TV in letting the essence of laziness win over in having to be good for far too long.  

He wasn't going to follow the requests of his body for, as it would turn out on this weekend, three special girls had asked if he wanted to come to their clubhouse. It was a secret place. Usually meant for girls only. Like those slumber parties they liked to have but he never got invited to.  

Except for now.  

Pipsqueak had gone home to drop everything off, a kiss from mom and a rubbing of hair from dad, announcing his plans a foot away from the door. They wished him well with a mixture of a wink and a smirk that they very well knew what all this had been about. The boy brought a bag with him for sleeping over—before heading out.  

The walk through the park and on the barely paved road of dirty felt like a secret initiation to be allowed into the place. The fact that he knew it existed was touching. Three of the prettiest girls at the school, each beautiful and energetic in their unique ways, affording him a special feeling.  

His mind raced to the trio that seemed to let him into their tight circle. First there was Sweetie Belle. So much like her sister, and yet, nothing like at the same time. Refined and beautiful to the higher charms of a woman—while retaining her innocent charm, an adolescence that broke the refinement of her appearance and, overall, Sweetie Belle had never stopped being herself.

She could portray herself as more. Act as posh as her sister to woo anyone she pleased. She'd tried it on him one. Sauntering toward him with eyes on him alone. Batting her eyelashes and keeping silent as the power of her existence was enough to hold him.  

Sweetie Belle walked to the boy with the beating heart and, with a smirk turning a smile, proceeded to boop him on the nose and called him a dark. Her snorted laugh came next on pulling him on the shoulder to whatever class they shared next. Even though she could present herself as more.  

The little girl inside still liked to skip through the halls.  

Pipsqueak felt the crunch of leaves beneath his feet to the towering of trees flanking at his sides. Looking around to things so humongous to the point of making him feel small. That'd been another reason why they'd requested him. It came due to a conversation with Scootaloo.  

Scootaloo.

That'd been another one to attract his heart. The brash girl with the attractive personality. Being around her was enough to give anyone a buzz from genuine excitement. Always so alive and invested in her current interest. Raising the stakes and the shows to make the world around them feel a bit more grown.

Pipsqueak would watch her practise most days after school. At the skate park beyond the school. Sitting in the bleachers, alone, watching her skate on ramps and attempt various tricks. Audience or not, the girl gave a show, even if only for herself, for how much of a kick she got from the thing.  

Orange skin and spiky hair of purple. Teasing with that same brashness of people. Willing to scoot close to the boy and not think twice on it. She took after Rainbow Dash in some ways. Though she wasn't so hot-headed or so about herself. Scootaloo did awesome things but never needed acknowledgement for doing so.  

 "So what if you're the shortest one in class? That kind of stuff doesn't matter! Just... stand tall or something." Scootaloo's side pressed into his own and rubbed as she twisted in place. Thinking always seemed to be physical exertion for her as well. "You're a good guy. You're nice and you're kind. You may be a bit of a wimp—but you always fight through it. You have courage and all that other stuff. That's the stuff people who matter care about." 

	 She'd laughed and lightly dug her knuckles into the top of his head, rustling his hair, laughing as she did so.  "Besides. I like you smaller. You're so much fun to tease—and I wouldn't be able to do things like this so easily! Keep small, squirt." 

Pip was deeper in the woods as the creaking of such could be heard from afar. More refined than the leaning of trees as it was footsteps on planks instead of a breeze through branches. The clubhouse wouldn't be too much further now. Just a little bit more to go.

The last girl to float to his mind, not because she wasn't exceptional but, maybe more because she was: Applebloom. The sweetest and most genuine of the lot. Sincere and rarely teasing except in special times. She'd become a bit more like a typical girl as of late—and that was hardly a bad thing.  

Indeed on their walks to school, if the two found each other, would walk together at once and, on that, her hand would reach for his and their hands would swing. Sometimes she'd laid her head on his shoulder, wanting the comfort.  

It wasn't the energetic twisting of Scootaloo or the testing of particular charms by Sweetie Belle. Instead it was the genuine want to get close, feeling skin on skin, the comfort of being close to someone in that way. It caused him to let down his guard more. Because he had nothing to worry about.  

Sitting on a park bench together, sharing snacks, feeling her head rest on his shoulder and, even though it scared him, his leaning back to rest on hers. Sometimes a hand would raise and feed him a snack and, as quickly, he would raise his. The two let each other try their snacks before the need to return before the bell.  

Those three wonderful girls, now, wondering if he wanted to spend the weekend at the clubhouse.  

Whoever would say no to such a thing? Besides... they said they MIGHT have something to help with my height issue. Hehehehe. Like I needed more of a reason to say yes. Just... have to hope they don't mind me coming early.





The boy shuffled up the steps of the tree house, seeing above the underside of the structure, built inside the divide of the branches that were round and spread. Enough space to be a living room of a house and tall enough to contain a second-floor—if plans of construction ever returned to their minds.

Pipsqueak reached the platform and climbed over it, coming to stand before the door, seeing the wooden lanes to the sides—each with wooden railings to prevent falling. It made him feel weird to be so high up. Looking down at the ground now so small. But even here he wasn't so big. 

The surrounding trees were thicker and larger and shot higher than his vision could go. Like a tiny lost in the lands of giants. Feeling nothing but a speck in comparison to the greatness of nature that was simply gigantic.  

Quickly he turned around and started knocking on the door.  

Tap tap tap!

There was the shuffling of feet on wood on the other sides. Voices becoming hushed to the sparks of giggles. Shuffling around but none coming closer to the door. Drawers pulled open and the clattering of items dropped to a silence thereafter.  

Why aren't they answering the door? Is this another girls being girls thing? This IS their private hangout time. They've never really had a boy over here either. Maybe I was wrong to come early after all—am I even dressed well?

Looking down to examine showed the dress shirt, white and tucked into his pants, which had been brown, shooting down to the shoes of the same colour. Relaxed kind of formal that caused him to feel a little bit more in putting them on. Other outfits didn't cause him to feel such.  

But dressing nice... caused him to feel nice.

Or maybe it's a touch too much and they'll think I mean a little bit more by it... oh gosh... I'm starting to panic again. Do not panic. Be cool! You're just hanging out with some friends. Pretty friends. The kind of friends that are girls. Girls you like so very much. Oh dear. That went in a direction I did not want it to go

There wasn't time to deal with his thoughts as the door opened up with six hands on its frame; the same with three heads stacked on each other in looking at their guest. Pipsqueak raised a hand and waved it nervously.

The friends relaxed their shoulders and rolled their eyes as though escaping a crime.  

"Ooooh it's yoooou!" Scootaloo pulled her head from the middle of the pile, the remaining two, crashing into each other, as she stepped ahead. Coming to lean her waist on the door and give a flick to her hair. "We thought you were someone from school!"

Pipsqueak cocked his head. "B-But I am someone from the school?"

Scootaloo leaned close enough for her breath to wash across his cheek. Her fingers rose and flicked him on the forehead. She smirked at that. "Not like that you dork. What we meant is someone from the school that we  wouldn't want to see."

"Y-You wanted to see me?"

"It's the reason why we invited you out! Wait!' Scootaloo crossed her arms and leaned back and did the same with the tilt of her head. "Are you fishing for a compliment with that? Out of all the boys that  you're the one we want to see? Is that your intent? Hmmmmmmmmmm?!"

It was here that Pipsqueak started to sweat. "Uh. Um. Uh."

"Will you quit that already!? You're going to break the poor boy." Sweetie Belle yanked her head out from Apple Bloom, who had been resting across her back and, on losing the support, crashed into the ground. The white girl walked over the body and earned a glare from such. "Trapping him in a misunderstanding so he'll confess some things he normally wouldn't. That's no way to work him. Especially when he gave up his weekend for this."

She sounds so sweet... and yet... it all feels like one great big trap.

Sweetie Belle rested on the other side of the door but, unlike the one opposite of her, rose her foot across the frame. Slowly. To pronounce the effect. Knowing the power in what moving her body could do. Pipsqueak's heartbeat doubled at the impact as femininity melted across the frame.  

"But you did forget the secret knock we taught you ages ago." Sweetie Belle's eyes narrowed on him in a way that, for a moment, those gentle talks from before were removed from mind. "And you showed up an hour early. That's kind of suspicious. Mmhmm!"

I-I might not live through this.

"W-Will you girls quit it! You were supposed to be helpin' him—not tackling on!" Pipsqueak was drawn to look at the ground to the girl still lying there. Shaking his head and bending a knee, he offered his hand, on reflex, which Applebloom gladly took. "Thank you! 'Bout time someone noticed me on the ground."

Scootaloo chuckled. "Oh. We noticed."

Sweetie joined in with a giggle. "Just didn't do anything about it is all."

Pip pulled Applebloom to her feet and let go of her standing. She dusted herself down while glaring at the other two. Her vision returned to him once done. "Tch. Some friends they are—aren't they? We never gave you an exact time and I would have forgotten a knock I never got to use."

Pip stood there with an open mouth and a lost expression as sweetness dressed over his being. Little staggers were the nods of his head as his heart couldn't take much more of this. With a swallow he looked down.  

To a girl's hand, so easily, taking his own.  

"C'mon now! It's a bit chilly outside of her! Now that it's just you, we can show ya something!" Pip didn't have much choice in the matter as the hand yanked on his, his feet stumbling through the door, underneath the passing eyes of the others on his side. How they were always a few inches above him. "This should be fun! Aaaaand it should help with your always lookin' up problem as well!"

The boy was led into darkness, the door shut behind, trapping him here.





It took a little bit to get the lights going but, when they did, the boy was surprised by the workings of a lab inside the clubhouse. The pull on his arm led him through the room. Stepping over strewn hammers and screwdrivers as, on the passing walls, papers were pinned with numbers and circles filled with words.  

Scootaloo had strolled to the right and hit the lights, everything powered by a little generator placed in the corner, a gift from Twilight that they never thought too much about. The other girl went to the drafting board and pulled the drawers at their sides. Laying tool after tool on the desk in resuming whatever it was she was doing before.  

"C'mon." Sweetie Belle had walked to the center of the clubhouse where a round rug had been placed. At its center was a toy. One made of steel and not of a shape Pip was familiar with. It caught his interest as Applebloom sat them around it. "Here's what we've been fooling with for the last little while. Scootaloo's been taking the lead on it. We help in whatever way we can."

Whose voice called from behind. "Like being silent!"

"You don't enjoy working alone!'

"Tch."

Pip wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew. He really didn't care too much about his height. Being smaller where all the girls could look down at him, even a little, raising his chin with a finger—it all teased him.  

But it sounded like they wanted his help now. It'd been the reason why he offered to come. But what could he do that the other two couldn't? Could he even be useful here? Or would the girls know he came due to wanting to hang out with them?  

Be cool. Be cool. Don't blow your cover. Be cool. Be cool.

"Before we all get started about that," Bloom started before turning and looking at Pip, "are you thirsty from your walk at all? Usually we have tea before getting started. But we have a few other drinks."

He nearly did not turn in time to see her stand. Feeling the ground quake a little as she stood up. Towering over him with ease. Looking down with raised eyes and a hand that rested on hips dressed over by overall.

Commanding power in standing. How it would be like to be one of those drinks. So on the ground and barely above her feet. Needing to look higher across the structure of a girl to find her face in the clouds—the same height, the same shape, the same size, the same beauty as one.  

Pip blushed.  

And Bloom giggled. "I'll just take that as to get normal drinks then... can you help set the table?"

Pip nodded the best he could.  

Meanwhile Sweetie Belle was bored on the ground and watched Bloom getting the most teasing of the poor boy. She had a genuine charm that Sweetie couldn't match. Even as Pip got to the table, one covered in tools and left in a mess, his fingers shivered in reaching for the coasters in the middle, spreading them around, for when the other would come back.  

He looked at her with a raised brow and, at her blush, she turned away. She couldn't precisely watch him from the ground or else her intent would be known. Instead she got up, patted herself down, and strolled over to see what Scootaloo was doing.  

Who was hunched over the table, a pencil bit between her lips, the other stabbing into the scroll set across the arch of the table. She shook her head before Sweetie could offer the first word.  Scootaloo was in the process of something and usually didn't snap out until she was done.  

That left only one option to do.  

To fiddle with the machine.  

It laid on the testing table to the right of the drafting desk. Currently the machine was large and composed of steel with a laser built from its center. Thin spirals from the base to the tip of the laser with its end being the firing point. How it built in power in reaching that spot.  

It had a cool effect when it was turned on. Something that could impress the boy. He was a few feet away, coasters down and now moving the tools, in view to see the machine. This would catch his interest. Sweetie leaned across the side of the device for the switch.  

There were two.

When the machine had last been used and the girl was ordered to turn it off, she flicked the power and not the charge switch. Not knowing, of course, as the machine turned off. Now that she was about to call the boy and tease him with the machine, it turned on, a low hum beneath the steel.  

As a liquid green, which appeared as a glow that coursed through the spirals, concentrated into the point. It was aimed at the boy who moved the tools to the side of the table. In hearing the sound, he turned, unable to see through the explosion of light—a beam firing at him.





Pipsqueak didn't know how to feel in dealing with the impact of the machine, the power and glow shocking through him, a series of spirals toward his center, the sensation like he was imploding, each pulse—tightening everything inward.  

Skin condensing and organs pressing and kinetic energy imploding in the innermost center of his being. Eyes clenched and a scream hollowing to the height of a squeak. Not before long: he was falling. Falling. Until his body crashed into the smoothness of sweeping wood. 

The little boy laid back on the desk with an arm draped over his face, groaning and rolling on his hips, trying to decide if he was, indeed, still alive. It took him a moment to sit up, leaning forward with a huff. Staring off into the horizon to find an endless sheet of wood ending afar in a long curved line.

W-Where the heck am I?

He ended up standing to a wobble that bounced on a titanic quake in the distance. Thump and a thump that roared in sound alone. Pipsqueak stumbled back to cool metal pressing into his back. He jumped and turned around. Finding a round vault of steel before him.  

Otherwise known as the end of a hammer. Indeed the tool had become like a structure as it towered above and shot into the distance. So large like a strange island. He was nothing compared to it. And if that tool was here, then, that meant... he was on the table.  

And that he had shrunk instead of grown.  

"Uuuuhhhh! S-Scootaloo! We may have a bit of an issue!"

"I saw you dolt! Why'd you flick the machine for?"

"Because I wanted to show Pip what we were working on?"

"In giving a live demonstration by shrinking him? Aren't we supposed to be doing the reverse!?"

"I didn't mean to!"

"Can your 'didn't mean to' find him—much less bring him back?"

"No... but it'll give me greater reason to do so!"

"Ugh."

The crashing of voices in the sky. Boom breaking into boom with the richness of femininity. Each explosion of sound matched by the titanic step that rocked the foundations of the miniature world. Enough to rattle tools and do so much more for the little boy. One stranded like a speck on the center of a rather large desk.  

Like being lost at the center of the sea composed of wood.  

But that was nothing in coming to face the giants. Indeed there was a world beyond the horizon as the vastness of the clubhouse was lost to haze in the inability to process so much with minuscule vision. Yet clarity came in seeing the approaching giants.  

Both of them had been slow in their approach and at this height all he could see was their legs. Plush and round and shooting to the ground in delicious tapestry. On the left loomed the dome of a skirt, tame in colours and low enough to not be looked up.  

Out from its depths trailed white legs. Creamy skin that rolled in a hill the little boy wouldn't have minded running around. How they strode, great arch after the other, to a crash of a foot below, the stomp, rising up, with the delicacy of a woman.  

The stride, still refined, no matter the size.  

On the right, though, were the problem of denim pants. Skinny and tight to the legs as they thundered to the table. Giants were supposed to be slow and powerful and that was not the case here. Such greatness shouldn't have been able to move so fast. Yet those legs raced toward him as the thumps came left and right before compounding before the table.  

Pipsqueak jumped from foot to foot as the shock waves launched him into the air, unable to balance as the mere walking of girls, uncaring of their footsteps, was enough to rock him around. Both of them crashed to a pause before the desk was too much. Shooting him into the air before crashing on his back.

He laid back and looked up and was nearly stunned by the view. At level with the crotches of the girls as that was all that could be framed within his gaze. The width of those hips, stretching miles of fabric, a skirt and some jeans, before each went to the opposite side.  

Both of their hips pushed out to a sway in the air and the lethargic moving of something titanic. Powerful move despite it not being grand. In the second next, a hand entered the view, each girl smacking their hip, holding it, as the sound echoed in its crack throughout the air.  

"You think he's on the desk?"

How could it be possible? Voices so light and squeaky and feminine to be raging in power and each syllable an explosion? Pip laid back in order to look up. Tight shirts over the towering frames to the blurry faces now the new clouds.  

It was hard to see them. Requiring a few blinks to make out the views. But the heads of the titans existed in the sky. So high up, and yet, remaining large regardless of the countless distance. Both looking at each other. The feature of their beauty, enlarged, as their faces became parks that could be walked on.

"Either on the table or landed on the seat or somewhere by our feet." Scootaloo's rocked the winds as they were composed of the force developed in the world that was her lungs. She raised a hand and, in so doing, a tunnel of darkness swept across the desk—drenching him in it. "Might be lost somewhere in this mess. Funny how we brought him to help clean it."

Sweetie rolled her eyes at that and bumped her waist into the neighbour, the impact, thunderous, though the pitch of the sound was light and delicate. The force of the contact broke across the desk a little. It shivered. Wood vibrating. "We brought him for a little bit more than that."

"Yeah yeah." Scootaloo rose that hand to her hair, which she scratched, a jungle of pink, dense that he could get lost inside. Pip would have laughed at that if he could. Setting up a tend and having a fire as the surrounding vines of violet towered to the sky. "Let's focus on finding him. We can save some of the mess for him if we find him quick enough."

This couldn't be allowed to go on for much longer; the little boy rose onto his feet and dusted himself off. He started to jump in place. Spreading his arms to call for attention. Looking out to the distant expanse that was the front of the jeans, the tightness around the monolithic and taut waist, how, at its center, that golden button was keeping them tight.  

How those hips could fall back and the rest of the titan could collapse forward on the desk, the smooth expanse of that tummy, crashing across the waters of the desk, the density of the shirt resting on the wood as well. Chest falling next then a massive head resting its chin on the desk. Temple of a giantess, her face, before him, looking at the little speck of a shadow.  

But that didn't happen.  

Even though he wished it did.

"Hmm." Sweetie Belle's lips pushed to the side as her head cocked a little bit, eyes squinted and he within her vision, yet, too small to be told apart from the desk's colour—dots looking like dots. "Bit harder to see because I don't have my glasses. Know for sure he's not on the edge here. Which means..."

Pipsqueak didn't know what that meant and became scared once he did. The massive girl turned around to a twirl of her skirt, which cast sweeping winds that lifted him in the current and blasted him back. He struck whiten land and rolled across the large lettering of ink.  

He laid forward on the pool of a paper, one with a broad stroke of ink, a black line composing a colour. In the distance, the fabric tornado slowed, its ends falling around the massive legs. They hoisted up as the cliff of a rump rose high.  

Then crashed low.  

Sweetie parked herself on the desk and ensured to sit on the bottom of her skirt but, as the derriere crashed into the desk, it launched everything up, the paper the boy had been on, it floating in the air, to swirl in his stomach, as it pulled back to its own lean.  

Pip hugged the ground beneath him as much as he could as, to his sides, there'd been a toolbox, each a block like an apartment. Tools rattled insides. Nails jittering out as the rain of metal started to begin.  

N-No!  

The paper curved and floated up and became straight, before falling back and doing the same, avoiding the towers that were falling nails. Shiny cylinders crashing and clattering on the ground far below. The enormous laughter in the distance shocked the air.

"What are you trying to do smacking your butt down like that! Trying to rock his world?"

"W-What! No! Just get a better angle like this—didn't think it would have an impact like that!"

"Right. Just had to hop and slam down on the table did ya?"

The paper flew off the edge of the table and he looked out from its end seeing, in the distance, the parked skirt and the other massive girl, both standing there, the other slamming her fist into the table. One tool fell from the box and slammed into the desk, enough of a force to jump the red apartment—both of them looking to the mess.  

They both leaned over and their shadows cast over the desk, wide and vast and enough to fool Pip into it being night, seeing, as the paper floated to the ground, the faces now lowered close to him. Each of their heads hovered over the toolbox, their size stealing a slice from the sky, hair gorgeous and voluminous as it fell over them.  

Both of them so close to finding him had he been there a few seconds longer. Now though. Their large fingers entered the scene, isolated, in picking up steel towers, which were large and thick and heavy, lifting them as though their greatness was weightless.  

Where if any of those nails had landed on the poor boy, he would have been pinned, stuck underneath their center, no amount of pushing or squishing underneath the gigantic metal bar... would have made a difference.  

Both girls picked up a nail and, in scanning the area, couldn't help but exhale. The paper was nearly below the desk before the winds of the storm came. The hefty production of lungs born through the cavernous maws of both girls. Dense blast of air, smacking outward, as it washed over the sheet of the paper.  

O-Oh ho no!

Teases of the breeze struck before the current hit. Warmed and light winds before the bulk of the force followed. The intense and invisible air touched at the corners of the sheet and sent it into a whirl, spinning faster and faster and giving it flounce and, as his hands smacked around for something to grab, there was nothing of the kind, and his body slid around the sheet.  

Further and further as it twirled to the ground.  

Though he was shot off before it touched down.  





"He should have been on this desk or around it! Impossible for it to shrink him here but somehow teleport him elsewhere." Those voices. Even in darkness and from the floor, they roared, in the sky, a bit more faint—though the volume of their steps the same. "Think about what happened. He was on the desk. You sat on it. Did you sit on him?"

"Of course not!"

"Did you check?"

"I course I have!"

"Was he there?"

"I would have crushed him if he was!"

"Using what?"

"I'll shrink you next so you can find out!"

At least the girls never stopped being themselves during a crisis.  

"Hold you to that another time." Scootaloo's voice was joined by quakes of her feet, ones stomping in the distance, slowly, as if watching their step. Coming closer as the crashing of wood grew more thunderous. Vibrations, rattling stronger, into his back. "We cleaned that desk and peered into that toolbox. Not there. What about that paper you knocked off? Think he was on it?"

Silence.  

"Where is it now?"

"Think the other side of the table. C'mon. Careful now. No randomly sitting because you don't think you can win him any other way."

"Hey!" The series of stomping feet in the distance showed that Sweetie Belle was quickly overloaded. Each thud shot the sleeping boy up, waking him from his nap, enough that he was vibrating to a crack in the ground. "Don't crack jokes like that!"

Pip's eyes opened as the ground was vibrating. Planks of woods stretching like narrowed islands. To his left was a divide. Rich and vast in darkness. Enough of a space for him to fall through.  

"A-Ack!" Pip barely snapped back to life before the vibrations carried him over the edge of the crack of the flooring, which he nearly fell through, shooting a hand to the plank of the wood, hanging from its edge. Below was an abyss that, if he fell into, would turn to light after several thousand feet of descending. "E-Easy now! Keep cool! Nice and cool now."

That didn't happen as Sweetie Belle found it wise, in the great beyond, to be hopping on her feet. Lifting and dropping loose planks of wood as intense reverberations coursed through the ground, weakening in every mile, the weakest force reaching him.  

Thankfully though, the boy found his strength, pulling himself up and over, rolling onto his back, far away, in the middle of the plank. He would be safe here as the two giants were too far to affect him remarkably now. That made being found harder, though.

At least he could catch his breath.  

"Hey y'all! I'm back with the drinks!"

Oh horse feathers.

There was nothing he could do. Body too weak from the previous exertion and pains to get out of the way. Rolling his head to the side, he looked out to afar, across the sweeping planes of planks, seeing, in the distance, the blue shoes hurling toward him more immense than any truck.

The laces were undone. Each like a steel beam to a bridge—composed, though, as fabric. Launching and smacking onto the ground with small thuds of their own. The shoes arched forward in a towering rise, revealing the underside of the shoes, all the holes and divots, where dirt and such were tucked inside.  

Each big enough to maybe house the little one—though barely.  

This was his first time seeing his fate arrive in sneakers. In watching a foot rise high beyond his view and, for a second or two, unable to see it and, in the second of that, witnessing the powerful blur of a toned meteor striking the world.

How those great laces rocketed at the side, so loose despite being so large, smacking the ground and jumping around, able to slice the air with the precision of whips though striking the ground like a hammer. Each jostled around where a footstep launched the world into the air.  

And those feet were coming closer, becoming larger, their shadows, washing toward him, with a promise of the end. Ovals dressed the ankles as they shot up and out of view. The towering mass's weight felt as it went forever went up, but unable to be seen from this angle.  

Only the feet coming forever closer as they crunched on nothing to deafening volumes.  

One of the sneakers smacked down before the poor boy. Enough to launch a shock wave of pelting dirt and a slice of wind. It rolled him back several feet. He blinked and looked at the front of the shoe—unable to see over the top of its front. Its sides too vast to be seen down either.  

Then the foot raised. Slowly and highly as the shadow passed over him. He rolled onto his back and looked up. Seeing the light blocked from heaven as the underside of the shoe loomed above. Coming down, at increasing speed, the darkness, enriching, the smell of the shoe, overpowering, as its view consumed everything at its coming step.

"Wait wait! Hold it just there! Don't take another step!"

Pip had closed his eyes in waiting for the end, blinking them opened to see the ceiling of the shoe, it spawned well behind his and past his feet as well, everything dark, of course, beyond the slices of light at the sides of the area.  

The foot was inches from touching the ground, nearly pressed into it, with a little view to the world beyond at its front. Pip flipped onto his stomach, seeing the underside of the front of the sneaker and, in blinking at the golden light that promised the world beyond—crawled toward it.  

Crawling and crawling from underneath the foot and its smell and getting out in time before the foot pressed to the ground, another shock of winds, lighter this time, as it dusted outward. Pip threw himself back on his back and looked up. Over the denim legs and to the overalls above—to the great pocket on them he would have liked to rest inside.  

"H-Huh? B-But why? And..."

Applebloom's hair flew in the sway of a bloody tornado as its winds crashed and whipped across the ground. Density of strands floating to the twist of the head and the monolithic eyes scanning the proximity for him. Not knowing that he was right there, small and before her, at the end of her shoe.

"That's exactly it!"

One giantess started to stomp over to the rattling of the world.  

The effect, doubled, in the marching of the other.  

"We maaaay or may not have shrunken Pip!"

"We? You mean you!"

"Wait! Why did we shrink him? Aren't we supposed to be doing the reverse?"

"Welcome to the end of the thought process Bloom!"

"Hey! Don't give me sass! I wasn't the one who messed up!"

"Neither did I!"

"Vote to place blame on Sweetie? Say I!"

"I."

"I."

"Hey! Forget blame—we need to find him! Tiny and small and having to deal with us shouting and stomping around!"

Pip exhaled a miniature breath on the ground, seeing some dust particles, barely moving from the effect.  

At least someone's worried about me.

"And it doesn't matter who started all of this," Sweetie began in backing away from the circle they formed, the other two doing the same, further apart from each other, now even further from him. They all towered over him with the speck of a human in the center between—all they had to do, for a remote second, was look down. "Because whoever finds him gets to be the hero! First one to find him wins! Three two one—GO!"

Everyone stood so far away from around him. Each of their shoes in the distance, a unique island every pair, with socks of different colours shooting up. They marched out from each other, not caring for what could be underneath their feet, the planks creaking and groaning from the strikes of immense weights.  

Pip was rattled on the ground as the idea of moving was silly. Nothing he could do as the floor raged like the sea in torrents of vibrations. Soon they thinned out, away from the boy, in a search that could have been ended by caring a little.  

And looking down a little.  

To see the little one in the sea of brown.  

A-At least they're looking for me now. T-They'll do what they can to find me. I just need to find the girl who will be most likely to know how to look for me.  

He stood with a groan, his body tattered in dirt and filth, little scratches across the skin, a touch of aching beneath those spots. Holding an arm around his waist, he looked out, to the wooden beams, blurred due to the distance, the legs of the enormous table.

Or maybe, because I'm beat, I should go to the girl whose closest.

That would have been Scootaloo as his view zoomed up high in the place lacking the blurs of clouds. There the lithe titan rounded the table. Scanning over it as she passed around it, black shoes were always in the distance, stomping, even when the rest of her body was blocked by the isle.

To see underneath the broad sweep of the table, those blackened shoes, rising and drops, each crash, raging out, shivering the ground beneath him. Her body came around the left side of the desk in her sweep of the thing. Arms in the center pocket of her hoodie with a head still cocked.  

Though there came a problem in looking at the desk too closely. Her one foot smacked into the side of the other and she danced on her feet in catching her balance. Twisting and turning and spinning her arms around. The denim-clad behind, rolled in the smooth curve of a hill, crashed into the side of the desk.  

The crash had been thunderous as the butt smacked into the table, causing some of the tools, hammers left on its edge, suddenly, to be knocked off. Tools falling with the force of a building and crashing into the wood. The impact broke across the plank, shivering the boy's legs as, in the distance, the tool hopped before being dropped, clattering in place, the ringing worse than a train's horn in a tunnel.  

Until her foot came and crashed on top of it, a mighty move of femininity, ceasing the tool and pinning it in place. Around it nails had rained and clattered. Scootaloo groaned in looking down. Without a care, her other foot came, its side facing the pool of metal and, without a second though, swept through the mess.  

Sweeping it, like a tidal wave of shoe, underneath the desk.  

S-She... knows I could have been in the middle of all that, right?

There wasn't enough time to focus that on, behind, the shadow of a looming thing washed over him. Darkness rolling out to fill a lake and then a second. The boy barely had time to look behind in seeing titanic shoes stomp in place, sliding apart at the heels, taking a stance, as he looked up.

Up the ivory legs and the flounce of a skirt to the towering torso of the girl. Two hands resting on her hips with the front of her figure darkened due to the blocked light. Sweetie's head was so high above that Pip had to fall on his rump, neck craned all the way back, to even see the top of that feminine skyscraper.  

Then the girl grinned in falling forward. There was no way to describe it. Seeing that mile and mile of woman start to fall forward. Coming down like a ceiling around the world as her shirt tucked out from the open air of gravity. In the distance, her knees pressed into the planks, rattling them, as the rest of her body pushed back, with the arch of her butt sticking up, as she looked across the ground.  

Her face was like a temple and he did not want to think about the entrance to such.  

Rather the boy came to stand as the view carried from behind his back. Inch tall, silhouette, framed in the vertical ocean of white. Creamy texture of skin being the waters. Eyebrows like bridges with eyes ponds to swim in.

However the girl leaned her face forward without letting her chin touch the ground. Hovering over the planks with narrowed eyes, shooting left and right, flicks to find him. Her snout twitched in its sniffs for him. Vaults of darkness, snorting to vacuums of sucked air, held for a second—until the unleash of a stream.  

Pip started to smile and jump despite the fear of the titan. Bunched into herself, on her hands and knees, looking and snorting close to the ground—like a predator in search of its prey. Each exhale washing across the floor stronger, able to lift and push the boy back, little by little.

Although Sweetie's advances more than easily covered the distance.  

Soon her face hovered over him like a titanic spaceship coming to land over a planet. Cliff of a face above as her eyes nearly were above him. They needed to flick down. Soon he would be captured in the shadow underneath her chin and forced to be underneath the cruiser of her body as it continued to crawl forward at speeds unable to be matched.  

Though none of the above happened.

Sweetie Belle's massive face was above the boy and, in coming to look down, stopped, in inhaling a deep breath. Pip's eyes went wide as he turned around, attempting to run away from the sucking currents—feet lifted from the ground, running in the air, as the swirl would slurp him up the young girl's nose.

Though as he was close to being transported inside the giantess who would forever be unaware that the little one was about to become stuck inside of her in a place where none would want to go.

"Achoooo!"

The current going up, came back down, harder with twice the force, smacking the ground, shooting out, in a sweep and a spread carrying the little boy. He never touched the ground as the force of the air took the impact for him. Instead it fired him off, far away, from the cruiser that was a woman.  

So far from the table and close to the carpet before the machine, where he laid on his back, not wanting to move—at least not for the next year. His head rolled to the side to see the girls in the distance. Scootaloo was on the desk, crawling across it, peering an eye over every inch of wood.  

And Sweetie Belle continued to crawl on the ground, from hand to knees, the clubhouse's very own human vacuum cleaner. Her path wouldn't come anywhere close to here. That gave the boy a cause to breathe. Except there was still the lingering issue.  

He'd found two.  

But where was the third?

"N-Not here e-either!"

The stomping came closer and the thuds were growing louder. Pip rolled his head back to be looking up the front of the girl. The curve of her overalls and the sweat that glistened her yellow skin. Applebloom stood there, panting, sweating, wiping a hand across her forehead.

"Not outside and blown down or anywhere! He has to be here... t-thank goodness for that."

At least s-someone cares to go extra crazy in looking for me.

Being touched by that fact, would have to wait, as something from above wished to touch him as well. Applebloom took a moment to shake her head and hair, those long and red strands, shooting out, whipping the air like whips.  

The effect was beautiful. Seeing the girl who usually kept herself natural, letting go, in allowing her mane fly. Problem was something else came from that. Beads of sweat, glossing the strands, being knocked free.  

Droplets felt like bombs and struck the ground to a splash that doused upward before falling back and sweeping outward. One to the left and one to the right. Two with each other, back to back, with an unleashing of the smell of scented hair.  

Pip turned and, on a bad leg, started to jog away. Running and running as droplets whizzed around. Seeing them crash at his sides, the crash and the rise and the outward splash of sweat. An ocean developing across the planks of wood. Each sweep of water closer to licking at the back of his feet.  

Until a shadow cast over him.  

And impact struck.  

Pip became aware he wasn't running anymore. Rather submerged in a bubble of water in the matter of a second. Feeling forces compound on his waist and float him upward with the current. Then he broke the surface, choking breath, as the water dissolved and thinned outward. He rode the tide as it swept forward.  

The current coming to a slow.  

Above the sounds of whipping hair slowed, the beautiful locks, floating across Bloom's face, no longer neatly brushed. Rather it was a bit frazzled in a waterfall more beautiful than all in the world. How she stood there, drinking in some breaths, as the little body, drenched in her sweet-smelling sweat, did the same.

Applebloom breathed and breathed as her face looked around above, as though she were looking for him but, for whatever reason, her darkened face glanced down. Settling down directly on him. Gaze narrowing in catching something of interest.  

In a view finally capturing him.  

"N-No way... Pip... is that... is that you?" Applebloom giggled and laughed and her hands crashed into the sides of her face. She crouched down, the mass of a giant, falling, in collecting, bunched, above her waist. Those overalls tighter around the mast of her torso. "It is! You look sooo cute little guy!” 

Her massive head turned and entered the light again, calling off into the distance, to command the other giants here. "Girls! I've found him! He's over here! Careful on your way here—he looks adorable!"

Soon the other girls thundered over as their lofty heights floated in view at the sides of Bloom. Each of them looking down and stealing all possible light. Each of them looked down at him in their own ways. Hungry. Few like predators.  

"Well? What are you waitin' for Bloom?"

"Yeah! Pick him up! Finders keepers and all that."

"This wasn't supposed to be some game!"

"You want us to pick him up? We can... but maybe not in a way you'd like!"

"Alright alright! Fine! I'll be the one to do it—can hardly trust y'all to not shrink him when I just go for drinks." Bloom leaned over him as, in the tunnel of his view, the sides of yellow hands, utterly massive, entered. Coming down to claim him like living platforms to an exotic stage. "C'mere. Don't know how you put up with us girls in the first place."

Pip feared the hand coming to claim him as, so easily, it could wrap around him, trapping him flesh and darkness, a tunnel of sorts, of which, he could not escape and that could be swung to the pleasure of the attached arms. That part scared him.  

But knowing it was Applebloom made it easier.  

He looked to the right as the sunny platform rolled across the ground, the same to the other side, both coming to the middle. The sides dipped beneath him before raising him. Pip felt the skin. Warm and soft and smooth. How he rolled across it, the little flabs and the feeling of little lines. Coming to rest on the center of the palm.  

As it shot up.

Up and up as the crouched girl, started to stand, and brought him up with her. It wasn't before long they had reached the sky, the air a bit cooler now, as, in the distance, the head of the giantess loomed. Soon it was flanked by two at its sides. The three titans looking at lil ol' Pip.  

Pip couldn't help but feel the heat of the hand surround him. In crawling back across the skin, he felt rub across him, a blissful contact until he reached a hill of sorts. Smooth and composed of bone. He looked over his shoulder at it.  

Over the hill was the spread of fingers, each arched and towering up, with a distance between them to tease the distant world. It scared him to see how easily those fingers could close in and trap him in darkness.  

To change the stage he was on.  

Instead he chose to rest his back on the hill of the knuckle, the skin over it, still soft and warm, composed of the girl he may or may not have loved. He looked out to the distance face, smiling and panting, finally giving rest to his aching body.  

As three planet-sized heads looked at him in his tiny stage in a girl's hand.  

"It looks like  someone's enjoying this," Scootaloo started with a chuckle, one that cracked and broke the air, an explosion of sound, louder, due to how closely he was to that mouth. Lips longer and thicker with a tease to the dark cavern within. "Though you look a little beat up. Sorry about that little guy. Seems like we weren't as careful as we were supposed to be."

"Or maybe he enjoyed that we weren't so careful! Look at him! Laying back on Bloom's hand like it's nothing—you look a little too comfortable to be overly scared about all this." Sweetie drove her point by reaching a finger over, long and smooth as it was, the fingertip looming over the boy. "Bit he'd even enjoy something like this."

Her finger dug into him, the smoothness of its end, rubbing up and down his front, sinking him deeper into the sunny skin. Soon her nail rose to the back of his head, scratching it, earning a few delighted sounds that were but squeaks to the giant ears. "See? Doesn't even care he's getting dominated by a finger."

The rest of them laughed.

"Well... he never minded being short around us..." Scootaloo followed that sentence with a smirk in looking at the little one. Head turning but eyes keeping on him with an expression that couldn't have meant anything good. "Ooooh! I wonder what that could mean! What would we thiiiiink? What would we doooooo?"

Scootaloo stepped closer to the hand and, although Bloom attempted to yank it back close to her chest, Scootaloo instead gripped that bridge of wrist, wanting to keep it there. She looked back at the fellow giantess. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt him. Could never do that to a cute little toy like that."

T-Toy?

Scootaloo brought her face to the edge of the palm, where the lemon stage came to an end, where the girl stole his whole view. She chuckled and laughed, the currents of air, unleashing, as it blew across him. Nearly enough to steal him from the palm.  

"So how does it feel squirt? To be so close and yet so small to us? How does me talking close to you feel right now?" Her voice roared and buzzed to a deafening degree. Every sensation, stolen, in trying to process a fraction of all that her body cast. Every inch of the head, how those lips moved and spread, the tease of inside that mouth, serpent of a tongue, blocks of teeth, the pooling of spit. 

Scootaloo started to talk into the palm, each strike of her voice, every drop of a syllable, rocking and raging across the palm. She leaned into the point her lips rolled onto the sunny skin. Dense plushness, meshing and flattening, reaching outward to show the might of its extent.  

How they meshed closer and closer, there being no escape, not over the hill of bone or the gap between those fingers. It turned back—the lip rolled on him. Sinking him into the suppleness that reminded him of warmed butter. The girl giggled. Its vibrations broke into him.  

It was the oddest sensation. Being submerged in lips. The exhaust of the nose above as it exhaled loudly. There was the twitching of the lips. How they sunk and rose. Scootaloo hummed. Wobbling the flesh. Outward and inward and every smack directed into him.  

Pipsqueak tried to fight against the lips without success. Those hums blared in his ears and vibrated throughout the mass of the head. It wasn't before long the predator pulled away—happy with her teasing of the boy.

"See? Look at him! Probably enjoyed every second of that."

"Oh oh! It's my turn next, isn't it?"

"No it ain't!" Applebloom pulled the boy to her chest and, without knowing, had her palm sinking into the denim of her overalls. Shifting up and down over the curve's smoothness and the feeling of the block that was behind it. So much of a structure dressed underneath all that clothing. "And you two need to stop teasing him! Already had enough of you nearly sitting and stomping on him."

"Oh c'mon! He's not in danger of that anymore! Now we're just having fun that he's enjoying!"

"And what about the machine that's going to bring him back to size?"

"Well... t-that could take some work! We've never exactly worked back on how to grow back objects." Scootaloo back to the side and her head fell the same over her shoulder. "Surprised we even made it this far to begin with. We could go and see what Twilight has to say about all this. But... isn't she gone for the weekend?"

"Drat! All of our sisters are! Whole reason why we decided to camp out here and at Bloom's place afterward!" Sweetie Belle stepped back and swung her hands onto her hips, which the body, down the sheet of denim, could see down and afar. How would it feel to be pinned by that hand and into that place? "Means he's going to be stuck like that the whole weekend."

Scootaloo blinked from the right. "...and why are you makin' that sound like a bad thing?"

Sweetie Belle thought on it for a second to find there wasn't much to think about at all. She stepped closer and so did her friend. Pip, scared at the two giants hovering over him, grinning, snuggled more into the chest of his guardian.  

"Will you girls quit it! I swear you both enjoy bullying the poor boy!" Bloom reached her other hand to the top of Pip's head, lightly scratching it, smiling at him with the softest of all expressions. She guided him up to her face so that he was at level with her lips. "Don't you worry now. These two aren't as mean as they appear—just enjoying teasing a whole lot more than they should."

"Like we said!"

“We'd never purposefully hurt him!”

"It doesn't matter how you hurt him! You're still hurtin' him! None of you are getting to do that so long as I'm around."

"Buzzkill."

"No fun."

"Shut it!"

Bloom looked at the poor boy laying on his back and, with a smile and a serene face reminding him of Fluttershy, she brought her palm in, close and at an incline, and pursed her lips. Letting him closer and closer as he did not try to crawl away.  

The lips crashed into him. Dense barrier of softness, slightly wet, with so much flesh as to be a dam. Warm. Heated texture with the smoothness of a curve he could get drenched in. There was a different feeling behind these lips. Even the exhale of a plane that blew from that nose wasn't enough to scare him as it drowned him in breath.  

The feeling, even a tiny bit, of love. Of feeling protected and love no matter how small his size and how easily they could do anything to him. Of course he would like to be teased and pinned down a finger and endure all the little—and not so little—games.  

But at least he would have the gentlest of the three to look out for him. Who, in breaking the kiss, smiled down at him. Her fingers looked to the pocket in her overalls and pulled it back a bit. Her hand hovered the trench of fabric, it dark and deep, and, at the little bit of a tilt, started to slide over and into it.  

Seeing the girl's massive distance that spanned forever down, the ground a sea of a blur, brown, evoking fear in him. Though it was more so at the thought and not that he thought it would happen. Instead he knew what would happen as those long and lemon fingers tugged further at the pocket. 	

Pip fell into the pocket, seeing the inside of it rise around him though, in a second, fingers came to claim him. They pulled him to the rim of the pocket, leaving him to hang onto it, letting him see the expanse of the world beyond. How it all looked from being at the titan's chest.  

He looked up to see Bloom looking down at him, smiling, before scratching the top of his head. Seconds passed before she looked to the girls at her side. Both of them puffed their cheeks in looking a little bit jealous. They were going to get at him, cutely, over the weekend.  

That was for sure.