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# Busting Out

By: Saatchi on Sep 7th, 2012 | syntax: None | size: 15.68 KB | hits: 491 | expires: Never
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1. This story contains:
2. -Growth.
3. -Growing out of clothes.
4. -Butt stuff
6. >Spitfire soared through the air, twisting and looping through the clouds.
7. >On the ground below stood the rest of the Wonderbolts, marvelling at their captain's superb style and grace.
8. >Of course they were supposed to be memorising her routine, rather than admiring her, and for one particular stallion this was incredibly difficult to do.
9. >Soarin' was his name, and lusting after the captain of the Wonderbolts was part of his game.
10. >He watched Spitfire fly through her routine, marvelling over the loops, the dives, and that oh so perfect flank.
11. >Spirfire came in to land, slowing to a trot, before stopping in front of the rest of her team.
12. >"Right then, I trust you all took note of that?"
13. >Her team nodded collectively.
14. >"Good, then let's see what stuck. Soarin', you go first, get in the air and show me what I want to see."
15. >"Yes, Ma'am!" With that Soarin' leapt into the air, his wings taking over, lifting him higher off the ground.
16. >He reached the optimal height to begin his manoeuvres.
17. >As he started on the first dive, one that took him straight down to the floor, he began to visualise the tricks.
18. >He reached his terminal diving velocity, straining to pull himself up and into the first trick.
19. >His wings flapped desperately as he forced himself against gravity, swinging upwards and curving back down in a loop.
20. >He barrelled to the side, rolling over a total of three times, before righting himself again.
21. >Now it was time for the tricky part, he shot down to the floor.
22. >He visualised the height he needed to maintain from the ground.
23. >His mental projection was clouded by a blue haze adorned with yellow jagged lines.
24. >The haze began to shift side to side, becoming sharper and firmer.
25. >He shook his head to dismiss the haze, but it returned once more, and this time clearer than ever.
26. >He was watching a mental projection of Spitfire's toned flank, hidden behind that skin-tight uniform.
28. >He felt a tingling in his nethers, and his cheeks burned behind his uniform.
29. >His focus was destroyed; all he could think about was that delicious flank.
30. >Naturally he crashed into the ground, skittering across the floor, coming to a stop before a uniformed set of hooves.
31. >”You were doing so well, what happened?” came a voice from above him.
32. >”I lost my concentration!” Soarin’ blurted out.
33. >Spitfire slapped a hoof against her goggle covered forehead. “Take five and go practice for a bit, come back when you’ve learnt something.”
34. >The remaining Wonderbolts flew off in separate directions, off to go practice their captains’ orders, leaving Spitfire and Soarin’ on their own.
35. >Spitfire turned to leave, and just as soon as she put one hoof in front of the other, Soarin’ called out to her. “Hey! Maybe I could work with you? Show me the routine again, or help me keep concentrated?”
36. >Spitfire turned to Soarin’, the stallion still sprawled out on the floor. “You were doing fine until that little mishap. You seem pretty clear on the routine, so what is it that you really want?”
37. >”I just want to run through this routine again, somewhere a little more private, and just with the two of us.”
38. >Spitfire sighed, reluctantly. “Fine…I’ll draw you a diagram or something. Where did you have in mind?”
39. >”Uh, my place?” he replied, a cheeky grin on his face.
40. >Spitfire didn’t give a reply, instead she gave a pained sigh, she knew where this going, subtlety wasn’t one of Soarin’s strongpoints.
41. >Her squadmate got to his hooves, and took a few steps past her. “So it’s settled then, come on, I’ll lead the way.”
43. >He set off at a trot, his eagerness, belaying his true motives to Spitfire, and she wasn’t impressed.
44. >Spitfire hurried after him; the sooner she got this over with, the better.
45. >Soarin’s house turned out to be quite the modest place, a simple, two floored abode, with a few extensions to make room for various athletic equipment.
46. >Ever the gentlecolt, Soarin’ held the door open for his captain, waiting until she had cleared the door before hurrying after her.
47. Spitfire stood awkwardly, wondering if she should just end this now, or play along with his little ruse just a bit more.
48. >”I’ll be back in a moment!” exclaimed Soarin’ as he disappeared behind one of the many downstairs rooms.
49. >Spitfire made herself comfy and waited for Soarin’ to return.
50. >Time passed by ever so sluggishly, so slowly infact, that at one point she was certain the clock was ticking backwards.
51. >Just as she was thinking of giving up and going home, she heard a voice call out from behind the door. “Hey, can I get a hand with this?”
52. >Spitfire took a few begrudging steps towards the door Soarin’ had disappeared behind, only a few minutes ago.
53. >If her suspicions were correct, then she’d open this door, and there wouldn’t anything she could help with.
54. >She’d probably just end up in Soarin’s bedroom, and he’d be trying to entice her to get close to him.
55. >She stood in front of the door and breathed a heavy sigh; a sharp pain shot through her stomach, but quickly subsided again, making her wince.
56. >Once she was certain that it was nothing but a fleeting moment of pain, she fiddled with the handle, and let the door swing open.
58. >She peered inside and found she had been exactly right.
59. >There was nothing that required her assistance. Just Soarin’ laid out on a double bed, giving Spitfire a somewhat sultry look, as he patted a space next to him.
60. >Spitfire put her hoof to her face and groaned audibly, much to Soarin’s disappointment.
61. >”What was that for?” he asked, sitting up a little.
62. >”Soarin’, tell me you’re not trying to get me to go on a date with you or whatever. Tell me it’s a joke.”
63. >Soarin’ blushed, “What? Why would it be a joke?” he queried.
64. >“Because, professional intimacy isn’t allowed! We can’t get romantically invo-…!” Spitfire held her tongue, her mouth still making the ‘o’ shape.
65. >”Spitfire? Something the matter?”
66. >Spitfire stumbled forwards towards the bed, flopping onto it, and writhing about in apparent agony.
67. >”Come on Spitfire, talk to me!” yelled Soarin’ anxiously.
68. >The room fell silent; Spitfire’s writhing ceasing for a brief moment, before another sound tore through the air.
69. >A dull, ripping hung in the air, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Spitfire.
70. >Soarin’ went to move in closer, he reached out a hoof to grab Spitfire, but he jerked his hoof back as he found the cause of the splitting sound.
71. >Poking through the exterior of Spitfire’s flight suit were a few strands of fur. Yellow fur, spouting from a tear in her suit.
72. >He glanced upwards from the tear, his eyes meeting Spitfire’s. He could see worry burning in her eyes, something was happening to her, and she couldn’t stop it.
73. >There was another ripping, and Spitfire clenched her teeth, as her body expanded outwards ever so slowly.
74. >Soarin’ risked another look down, and sure enough the tear had widened, with more of that yellow-golden fur peeking out from behind the blue suit.
75. >There was something else about this that unnerved him, that flank which he so craved was getting closer to him, come to think of it; all of Spitfire’s body was inching upwards.
76. >Soarin’ watched her avidly, waiting for anything to confirm his suspicions.
78. >A few seconds past before he was treated to a confirmation of monumental proportions. A long, drawn out gasp for breath, followed by a loud groaning as Spitfire’s body expanded further skyward.
79. >Spitfire felt a rush of warmth through her body as she expanded, warming her up underneath the suit, she needed to get it off.
80. >Not that she could focus on doing so; her mind was full of conflicting thoughts. Urges to grow bigger clashing with morals about destroying Soarin’s home, thoughts of revenge for the way Soarin’ acted, wanting to teach him a lesson.
81. >A continuous tearing filled the room, alongside Spitfire’s pleasured groans. Her body now filled the entirety of the bed, her hooves just reaching over the edges.
82. >Soarin’ took a few uneasy steps back, why was this happening to him? Was it some sort of karmic retribution for trying to bed Spitfire? He couldn’t be sure, but as he watched his captain grow bigger by the second, he knew he needed out.
83. >Spitfire sighed contented, allowing the growth to take over her, offering up no resistance to its effects. She rolled onto her side and glanced at her underbelly, rips and tears ran all along her suit, interconnecting with one another.
84. >She giggled and looked up, and upon seeing the cowering stallion, making for the door, she giggled even harder. “What’s the matter? I thought you liked powerful mares?”
85. >She rubbed a hoof against her stomach as she felt something building inside, a growth spurt for certain, but how big it would be, it would be impossible to know.
87. >Spitfire rolled onto her back, her tail pooling in a heap at the foot of the bed, her body itself covering the whole bed, her extremities reaching towards the ceiling.
88. >Her goggles finally gave up the fight after being stretched to their maximum. They shot across the room with a quick ‘twang’ landing in a heap on the other side.
89. >Soarin’ bumped up against the door to the bedroom, he turned and scrabbled at the handle, but no matter which way he clumsily turned it, it just wouldn’t open.
90. >He looked back and his jaw dropped open, peeking out from the tears in Spitfire’s suit was her glistening, pink marehood.
91. >His fumbling with the handle ceased as he gazed upon the hypnotising orifice, his vision transfixed upon it.
92. >He felt a focused warmth, burning in his nethers, his suit beginning to bulge, just a little from excitement.
93. >Spitfire noticed his gaze, and stifled a chuckle, instead rubbing her stomach as she felt more intense warmth spreading from within.
94. >She cried out as her body boomed in height, her legs crashed against the ceiling, the bed whined and creaked before buckling under her rapidly increasing weight, and her enticing marehood zoomed closer to Soarin’.
95. >The headboard of the bed split into pieces as Spitfire’s head forced insurmountable pressure against it and the wall.
96. >Soarin’ pushed himself back against the door as Spitfire’s backside started to trap him in the room. “Uh, Spitfire? I’m still in here y’know…”
97. >”Sh-shut u-up…” groaned Spitfire, in a lusty ecstasy, the room beginning to rumble as her hooves begged for release from the enclosed space.
98. >Her flank now pushed up against Soarin’s muzzle, forcing him into an awkward standing position, the door handle digging into his back.
99. >That walls of the room groaned and started to push outwards, Spitfire’s titanic frame filling it to capacity.
100. >Soarin’ whimpered as the door began to splinter and crack, forcing him through it at the cost of splinters of wood, jabbing and poking his body.
102. >Outside the house, a small crowd of ponies had gathered around the premises, trying to fathom what was creating such noises.
103. >Their appeared to be nobody home, except for in the bedroom, where there appeared to be some sort of rapidly inflating doll perhaps?
104. >Suddenly the eastern wall crumbled away as a wave of red and orange filled out from inside the house.
105. >The crowd looked on aghast, eyes fixated on the rapidly expanding mane before them.
106. >Attached to that beautiful flowing mane was the head of the Wonderbolt captain. In fact, some of the crowd members were starting to speculate that this was actually the living, breathing captain, and not a doll as previously thought.
107. >Soon the north, and south walls of the house collapsed, Spitfire’s luscious body expanding over the rubble, erasing all traces of its existence.
108. >She let loose a tremendous moan into the heavens as she experienced one final growth spurt, smothering what was left of Soarin’s home.
109. >Spitfire rolled onto her stomach, flattening the roof of Soarin’s house, which had been sitting contented on her stomach for most of the time.
111. >Soarin’ on the other hand, found himself sandwiched between Spitfire’s rump, which had thankfully stopped growing, though still threatened to smother him.
112. >He wriggled in between her cheeks, planting his hooves into the cushy surface and hoisting himself to freedom, bit by bit.
113. >He didn’t want to think about how high up he might be, he just wanted to stop himself from a most embarrassing demise.
114. >He could see sunlight peeking between Spitfire’s cavernous buttcheeks, and it only served to pull himself further.
115. >Spitfire rolled onto her front, standing up to her full height, sending a few members of the crowd running away in fear.
116. >”Soarin’?” she called out to her friend, completely unaware of his current predicament.
117. >She leant down to the remaining members of the crowd, first scanning them for her teammate. “Have any of you seen Soarin’?”
118. >The crowd collectively shook their heads, still adjusting to fact this was a real, giant pony.
119. >In actual fact Soarin’ had actually made excellent progress in escaping from his confines. He had managed to free the top half of his body, leaving him flail his lower half between her cheeks.
120. >Spitfire sighed. Soarin’ had probably ran off, the shock of seeing him captain transform into a giantess and outgrowing his home probably too much for the guy.
121. >It was at this point she felt something rubbing against her rump, she wiggled her backside a little, but it failed to budge.
123. >The ‘something’ was of course Soarin’ attempting to work his way to freedom. As Spitfire wiggled her backside, he was helplessly swung from side to side.
124. >Spitfire groaned, it was starting to irritate her a little, but she couldn’t just pick whatever it was out from there.
125. >She glanced around, the crowd were still there, but apart from that, no-one else appeared to be present.
126. >She sat down, Soarin’ now finding himself being painfully pinned to her backside.
127. >She began to rub her backside back and forth, trying to dislodge him once again.
128. >Soarin’ found himself in pure agony, he was swept one way, bending more than he should be able, before being swept another way, to the same painful extent.
129. >Spitfire forced her flank as close to the ground as she was able to do so, exerting tremendous amounts of pressure against Soarin’.
130. >Soarin’s only relief came as Spitfire started to release her grip on the rest of his body, her buttcheeks relaxing, forcing him to slide free of the overwhelming flesh.
131. >Spitfire’s face showed visible relief as she felt the obstruction sliding free. She lifted her flank into the air a little, just to make it easier for it to fall out.
132. >Soarin’ put his forehooves on a separate cheek of Spitfire’s toned flank and pushed with all his might, despite being disorientated from the shaking.
134. >Spitfire breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the object slip free of her butt, and without a moment of haste, turned around to inspect it.
135. >Soarin’ felt himself land against the foundations of his home, too disoriented to care. But when Spitfire turned around to inspect him, ne scurried backwards with a plea of “Don’t hurt me!”
136. >Spitfire chuckled, lifting her teammate off the floor, holding him at her head height, though she quickly turned her expression back to that of a stern one.
137. >”And why shouldn’t I? Did you think that was funny? Hiding back there?” she snarled.
138. >”I had no choice! You had me pinned! And the door…I couldn’t get out!” rambled Soarin’.
139. >”You still need to be punished for your behaviour…breaking the rules…” her lips curled into a smile as she spoke.
140. >”Start practicing that routine…no mistakes.” She let Soarin’ go, his wings taking over and holding him aloft.
141. >He set off on the routine, and this time there would be no mistakes, Spitfire was going to make sure of that…

create a new version of this paste RAW Paste Data
This story contains: -Growth. -Growing out of clothes. -Butt stuff >Spitfire soared through the air, twisting and looping through the clouds. >On the ground below stood the rest of the Wonderbolts, marvelling at their captain's superb style and grace. >Of course they were supposed to be memorising her routine, rather than admiring her, and for one particular stallion this was incredibly difficult to do. >Soarin' was his name, and lusting after the captain of the Wonderbolts was part of his game. >He watched Spitfire fly through her routine, marvelling over the loops, the dives, and that oh so perfect flank. >Spirfire came in to land, slowing to a trot, before stopping in front of the rest of her team. >"Right then, I trust you all took note of that?" >Her team nodded collectively. >"Good, then let's see what stuck. Soarin', you go first, get in the air and show me what I want to see." >"Yes, Ma'am!" With that Soarin' leapt into the air, his wings taking over, lifting him higher off the ground. >He reached the optimal height to begin his manoeuvres. >As he started on the first dive, one that took him straight down to the floor, he began to visualise the tricks. >He reached his terminal diving velocity, straining to pull himself up and into the first trick. >His wings flapped desperately as he forced himself against gravity, swinging upwards and curving back down in a loop. >He barrelled to the side, rolling over a total of three times, before righting himself again. >Now it was time for the tricky part, he shot down to the floor. >He visualised the height he needed to maintain from the ground. >His mental projection was clouded by a blue haze adorned with yellow jagged lines. >The haze began to shift side to side, becoming sharper and firmer. >He shook his head to dismiss the haze, but it returned once more, and this time clearer than ever. >He was watching a mental projection of Spitfire's toned flank, hidden behind that skin-tight uniform. >He felt a tingling in his nethers, and his cheeks burned behind his uniform. >His focus was destroyed; all he could think about was that delicious flank. >Naturally he crashed into the ground, skittering across the floor, coming to a stop before a uniformed set of hooves. >”You were doing so well, what happened?” came a voice from above him. >”I lost my concentration!” Soarin’ blurted out. >Spitfire slapped a hoof against her goggle covered forehead. “Take five and go practice for a bit, come back when you’ve learnt something.” >The remaining Wonderbolts flew off in separate directions, off to go practice their captains’ orders, leaving Spitfire and Soarin’ on their own. >Spitfire turned to leave, and just as soon as she put one hoof in front of the other, Soarin’ called out to her. “Hey! Maybe I could work with you? Show me the routine again, or help me keep concentrated?” >Spitfire turned to Soarin’, the stallion still sprawled out on the floor. “You were doing fine until that little mishap. You seem pretty clear on the routine, so what is it that you really want?” >”I just want to run through this routine again, somewhere a little more private, and just with the two of us.” >Spitfire sighed, reluctantly. “Fine…I’ll draw you a diagram or something. Where did you have in mind?” >”Uh, my place?” he replied, a cheeky grin on his face. >Spitfire didn’t give a reply, instead she gave a pained sigh, she knew where this going, subtlety wasn’t one of Soarin’s strongpoints. >Her squadmate got to his hooves, and took a few steps past her. “So it’s settled then, come on, I’ll lead the way.” >He set off at a trot, his eagerness, belaying his true motives to Spitfire, and she wasn’t impressed. >Spitfire hurried after him; the sooner she got this over with, the better. >Soarin’s house turned out to be quite the modest place, a simple, two floored abode, with a few extensions to make room for various athletic equipment. >Ever the gentlecolt, Soarin’ held the door open for his captain, waiting until she had cleared the door before hurrying after her. Spitfire stood awkwardly, wondering if she should just end this now, or play along with his little ruse just a bit more. >”I’ll be back in a moment!” exclaimed Soarin’ as he disappeared behind one of the many downstairs rooms. >Spitfire made herself comfy and waited for Soarin’ to return. >Time passed by ever so sluggishly, so slowly infact, that at one point she was certain the clock was ticking backwards. >Just as she was thinking of giving up and going home, she heard a voice call out from behind the door. “Hey, can I get a hand with this?” >Spitfire took a few begrudging steps towards the door Soarin’ had disappeared behind, only a few minutes ago. >If her suspicions were correct, then she’d open this door, and there wouldn’t anything she could help with. >She’d probably just end up in Soarin’s bedroom, and he’d be trying to entice her to get close to him. >She stood in front of the door and breathed a heavy sigh; a sharp pain shot through her stomach, but quickly subsided again, making her wince. >Once she was certain that it was nothing but a fleeting moment of pain, she fiddled with the handle, and let the door swing open. >She peered inside and found she had been exactly right. >There was nothing that required her assistance. Just Soarin’ laid out on a double bed, giving Spitfire a somewhat sultry look, as he patted a space next to him. >Spitfire put her hoof to her face and groaned audibly, much to Soarin’s disappointment. >”What was that for?” he asked, sitting up a little. >”Soarin’, tell me you’re not trying to get me to go on a date with you or whatever. Tell me it’s a joke.” >Soarin’ blushed, “What? Why would it be a joke?” he queried. >“Because, professional intimacy isn’t allowed! We can’t get romantically invo-…!” Spitfire held her tongue, her mouth still making the ‘o’ shape. >”Spitfire? Something the matter?” >Spitfire stumbled forwards towards the bed, flopping onto it, and writhing about in apparent agony. >”Come on Spitfire, talk to me!” yelled Soarin’ anxiously. >The room fell silent; Spitfire’s writhing ceasing for a brief moment, before another sound tore through the air. >A dull, ripping hung in the air, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Spitfire. >Soarin’ went to move in closer, he reached out a hoof to grab Spitfire, but he jerked his hoof back as he found the cause of the splitting sound. >Poking through the exterior of Spitfire’s flight suit were a few strands of fur. Yellow fur, spouting from a tear in her suit. >He glanced upwards from the tear, his eyes meeting Spitfire’s. He could see worry burning in her eyes, something was happening to her, and she couldn’t stop it. >There was another ripping, and Spitfire clenched her teeth, as her body expanded outwards ever so slowly. >Soarin’ risked another look down, and sure enough the tear had widened, with more of that yellow-golden fur peeking out from behind the blue suit. >There was something else about this that unnerved him, that flank which he so craved was getting closer to him, come to think of it; all of Spitfire’s body was inching upwards. >Soarin’ watched her avidly, waiting for anything to confirm his suspicions. >A few seconds past before he was treated to a confirmation of monumental proportions. A long, drawn out gasp for breath, followed by a loud groaning as Spitfire’s body expanded further skyward. >Spitfire felt a rush of warmth through her body as she expanded, warming her up underneath the suit, she needed to get it off. >Not that she could focus on doing so; her mind was full of conflicting thoughts. Urges to grow bigger clashing with morals about destroying Soarin’s home, thoughts of revenge for the way Soarin’ acted, wanting to teach him a lesson. >A continuous tearing filled the room, alongside Spitfire’s pleasured groans. Her body now filled the entirety of the bed, her hooves just reaching over the edges. >Soarin’ took a few uneasy steps back, why was this happening to him? Was it some sort of karmic retribution for trying to bed Spitfire? He couldn’t be sure, but as he watched his captain grow bigger by the second, he knew he needed out. >Spitfire sighed contented, allowing the growth to take over her, offering up no resistance to its effects. She rolled onto her side and glanced at her underbelly, rips and tears ran all along her suit, interconnecting with one another. >She giggled and looked up, and upon seeing the cowering stallion, making for the door, she giggled even harder. “What’s the matter? I thought you liked powerful mares?” >She rubbed a hoof against her stomach as she felt something building inside, a growth spurt for certain, but how big it would be, it would be impossible to know. >Spitfire rolled onto her back, her tail pooling in a heap at the foot of the bed, her body itself covering the whole bed, her extremities reaching towards the ceiling. >Her goggles finally gave up the fight after being stretched to their maximum. They shot across the room with a quick ‘twang’ landing in a heap on the other side. >Soarin’ bumped up against the door to the bedroom, he turned and scrabbled at the handle, but no matter which way he clumsily turned it, it just wouldn’t open. >He looked back and his jaw dropped open, peeking out from the tears in Spitfire’s suit was her glistening, pink marehood. >His fumbling with the handle ceased as he gazed upon the hypnotising orifice, his vision transfixed upon it. >He felt a focused warmth, burning in his nethers, his suit beginning to bulge, just a little from excitement. >Spitfire noticed his gaze, and stifled a chuckle, instead rubbing her stomach as she felt more intense warmth spreading from within. >She cried out as her body boomed in height, her legs crashed against the ceiling, the bed whined and creaked before buckling under her rapidly increasing weight, and her enticing marehood zoomed closer to Soarin’. >The headboard of the bed split into pieces as Spitfire’s head forced insurmountable pressure against it and the wall. >Soarin’ pushed himself back against the door as Spitfire’s backside started to trap him in the room. “Uh, Spitfire? I’m still in here y’know…” >”Sh-shut u-up…” groaned Spitfire, in a lusty ecstasy, the room beginning to rumble as her hooves begged for release from the enclosed space. >Her flank now pushed up against Soarin’s muzzle, forcing him into an awkward standing position, the door handle digging into his back. >That walls of the room groaned and started to push outwards, Spitfire’s titanic frame filling it to capacity. >Soarin’ whimpered as the door began to splinter and crack, forcing him through it at the cost of splinters of wood, jabbing and poking his body. >Outside the house, a small crowd of ponies had gathered around the premises, trying to fathom what was creating such noises. >Their appeared to be nobody home, except for in the bedroom, where there appeared to be some sort of rapidly inflating doll perhaps? >Suddenly the eastern wall crumbled away as a wave of red and orange filled out from inside the house. >The crowd looked on aghast, eyes fixated on the rapidly expanding mane before them. >Attached to that beautiful flowing mane was the head of the Wonderbolt captain. In fact, some of the crowd members were starting to speculate that this was actually the living, breathing captain, and not a doll as previously thought. >Soon the north, and south walls of the house collapsed, Spitfire’s luscious body expanding over the rubble, erasing all traces of its existence. >She let loose a tremendous moan into the heavens as she experienced one final growth spurt, smothering what was left of Soarin’s home. >Spitfire rolled onto her stomach, flattening the roof of Soarin’s house, which had been sitting contented on her stomach for most of the time. >Soarin’ on the other hand, found himself sandwiched between Spitfire’s rump, which had thankfully stopped growing, though still threatened to smother him. >He wriggled in between her cheeks, planting his hooves into the cushy surface and hoisting himself to freedom, bit by bit. >He didn’t want to think about how high up he might be, he just wanted to stop himself from a most embarrassing demise. >He could see sunlight peeking between Spitfire’s cavernous buttcheeks, and it only served to pull himself further. >Spitfire rolled onto her front, standing up to her full height, sending a few members of the crowd running away in fear. >”Soarin’?” she called out to her friend, completely unaware of his current predicament. >She leant down to the remaining members of the crowd, first scanning them for her teammate. “Have any of you seen Soarin’?” >The crowd collectively shook their heads, still adjusting to fact this was a real, giant pony. >In actual fact Soarin’ had actually made excellent progress in escaping from his confines. He had managed to free the top half of his body, leaving him flail his lower half between her cheeks. >Spitfire sighed. Soarin’ had probably ran off, the shock of seeing him captain transform into a giantess and outgrowing his home probably too much for the guy. >It was at this point she felt something rubbing against her rump, she wiggled her backside a little, but it failed to budge. >The ‘something’ was of course Soarin’ attempting to work his way to freedom. As Spitfire wiggled her backside, he was helplessly swung from side to side. >Spitfire groaned, it was starting to irritate her a little, but she couldn’t just pick whatever it was out from there. >She glanced around, the crowd were still there, but apart from that, no-one else appeared to be present. >She sat down, Soarin’ now finding himself being painfully pinned to her backside. >She began to rub her backside back and forth, trying to dislodge him once again. >Soarin’ found himself in pure agony, he was swept one way, bending more than he should be able, before being swept another way, to the same painful extent. >Spitfire forced her flank as close to the ground as she was able to do so, exerting tremendous amounts of pressure against Soarin’. >Soarin’s only relief came as Spitfire started to release her grip on the rest of his body, her buttcheeks relaxing, forcing him to slide free of the overwhelming flesh. >Spitfire’s face showed visible relief as she felt the obstruction sliding free. She lifted her flank into the air a little, just to make it easier for it to fall out. >Soarin’ put his forehooves on a separate cheek of Spitfire’s toned flank and pushed with all his might, despite being disorientated from the shaking. >Spitfire breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the object slip free of her butt, and without a moment of haste, turned around to inspect it. >Soarin’ felt himself land against the foundations of his home, too disoriented to care. But when Spitfire turned around to inspect him, ne scurried backwards with a plea of “Don’t hurt me!” >Spitfire chuckled, lifting her teammate off the floor, holding him at her head height, though she quickly turned her expression back to that of a stern one. >”And why shouldn’t I? Did you think that was funny? Hiding back there?” she snarled. >”I had no choice! You had me pinned! And the door…I couldn’t get out!” rambled Soarin’. >”You still need to be punished for your behaviour…breaking the rules…” her lips curled into a smile as she spoke. >”Start practicing that routine…no mistakes.” She let Soarin’ go, his wings taking over and holding him aloft. >He set off on the routine, and this time there would be no mistakes, Spitfire was going to make sure of that…