She's a Changeling Queen, Young and Sweet, Only Seventeen
Despite the label’s proclamation of ‘Every chocolate hoof-made with love!', Queen Chrysalis did not feel the usual surge of energy upon consumption of raw emotion.
Then again, chocolate.
The empty box was tossed onto the growing pile behind her chitinous, jet-black throne, beside the similarly large mound of handkerchiefs. “More!” she demanded as she blew her nose and dabbed at red-rimmed eyes, and more did her servile underlings bring. She tore into the fresh box, the brown sweets doing little to sate her ravenous hunger but seeming to perform well enough in regards to filling the hole where her six-chambered heart was usually situated.
Her retinue did their best to shut their ear canals as they prepared for the two-hundred fifty-third repeat of their queen’s tirade. “Hissssssssss. That... that female canine shall pay dearly for stealing my beloved!” Bitter dark chocolate and sweet cherry filling stayed in her mouth for mere moments before being spat out, not due to any faults of its own, with an equal amount of venom in both the literal and metaphorical sense. “She ruined everything! Oh, my sweet Shining Armor, I did not know the feelings I felt then. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and only now do I understand it.”
Those present rolled their eyes at the result of Chrysalis spending many a night at Equestrian plays during her time imponynating Cadence. Whereas before the wedding she would go off on how dull they were for hours on end, now she she seemed to be almost as enamoured with the antiquated entertainment as her late ‘husband’. The end of that particular Act came as she wrapped her hooves around the throne and whispered, “Oh, how I oak for you.” None bothered to correct her tree choice.
Many chocolates were sacrificed to appease their lordess and almost-saviour as she laid herself across the throne’s armrests, head hanging to stare at where stone ceiling met mucus-formed walls. “Our honeymoon would have been perfect,” Chrysalis lamented as she changed gears to fantasizing. “I would dine on his boundless love as he fed on the finest nutrient slurries. We would poke that celestial broad with sticks as she squirmed in her cocoon. He would positively glow after I laid a thousand eggsacs in his chest cavity...” She let out a forlorn sigh at the whirlwind romance that was not to be.
One of the warrior changelings whispered, “Right until she bites his head off like all her other mate-snck,” before he was thoroughly cut short, having missed the cue to quit while he was ahead.
“Let that be a lesson to the rest of you when I’m doing a soliloquy,” Chrysalis declared as the changeling, who looked to be rather stumped at what had just happened, headed out of sight. The others didn’t pay much heed; it would grow back in a week or two, after all. As demonstrated by the reason for him losing his train of thought and more besides, it wasn't like he used his brainstem too often anyways.
Now reminded that she wasn’t alone, Chrysalis took in the bustling drones as they transported pupae and cocoons throughout the hive. “Oh, and I can’t forget all of my children being able to play in the sunlight before going inside and enjoying a full belly of love as they fed from their captive ponies. I do ever so appreciate you a—” She was interrupted by the sound of shattering chitin, a sheepish-looking changeling buzzing above the mess. “Except for you, Drone Eight-Zero-Zero-Eight-One-Three-Five. By Discord, you are such a disappointment.”
Drone #8008135 picked up the shards and trotted away in dejection. Much to the relief of the other warriors, their fearless leader wasn't given the opportunity to return to her pity party by the appearance of an infiltrator changeling. “Our Queen,” he said, saluting before bowing in her presence.
“You bring news, my loyal slave Infiltrator, number one-three-two, field designation Bob?”
Bob shuffled his hooves. “Of a sort, our Queen. We managed to acquire three new ponies and have readied them for feeding cocoons.”
She nodded, the good news tempered by the unfortunate reality that it was the first of its kind in some time. “There is more to be said, I take it?” she asked, although the question had already in part been answered by the hivemind-like connection all the changelings had to their queen.
“Yes. Some of us, your ever-servile and obedient spawn, have realized a... reduction in morale amongst the lower castes.”
She grimaced. “Such is to be expected during these lean times. You tell me nothing I do not already know.”
The infiltrator bowed even lower, and looked like he would have kept going if the floor hadn’t proven to be a strong impediment. “O-our Queen, we believe that some of the unrest might be due to negative emotions emanating f-from you-urk, please, our Queen, let us propose our solution first!”
Bob's eyes tracked Chrysalis’ head and the maw attached to it move back, glad to have not experienced a first-mandible demonstration of what typically happened to a praying mantis’s male lover. “A-as we were saying, we believe a solution has been found in the form of our three newest pod additions and the application of a popular Equestrian radio show.”
Radios were not unfamiliar to the changelings. Quite the opposite, in fact, on account of their antennae-like horns picking up the signals and playing Equestria Girls We’re pony-fabulous Boots-on-Hooves Bikinis-on-Top please-make-it-stop what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this well-besides-abduct-ponies-and-imponynate-loved-ones to-form-a-parasitic-bond on loop until their buggy brains cooked from the inside-out.
“Be fast with your explanation, or I may reconsider my earlier mercy,” Chrysalis hissed as she gnashed her teeth.
Gulping, he continued with, “Well, there’s an entertainment programme called The Dating Game where a male member of their species interrogates three females to determine which would be the most advantageous candidate for the continued existence of their genetic line via procreation.”
It didn't take long for Chrysalis to put two and two together, or rather three new love feeders and a single gameshow. “You wish to attempt to...” She searched her memory for a suitable Equestrian equivalent to ‘Mobile Larvae-Carrier’. “...matchmake one of them with me?”
The infiltrator nodded, an action unused by any changeling besides those who took on Equestrian mannerisms. Bowing was the only movement practised by all, since it served the purpose of putting them in a position of vulnerability. “Yes, exactly! We are confident one will prove to be a fitting mate with you.”
A smile creased her face. “Hmm... yes, a replacement for that two-timing pea-brained jock, that’s perfect!” It took years of rigid training and the threat of limb loss for the warrior changelings to not roll their eyes to the point of them falling from their sockets at her paradigm shift. “Perhaps I might even make him jealous at my new and improved mate! Very well, bring them in—wait, no, not yet!” she shouted at the infiltrator, who was now frozen on two legs and desperately trying to not fall over. “I must make myself presentable.”
Contrary to what one might think when presented with a creature that could assume almost any form it wanted instantaneously, choosing a body was no faster than a mare picking the right dress but multiplied a hundredfold due to the limitless adjustments. The best analogy is to say it’s like going to a library to find something to borrow, except this library has every book in existence with any author and character combination one can imagine, up to and including Pinkie Pie playing every character.
Ever.
At the same time.
Meanwhile in Ponyville, Chrysalis's other arch-enemy, one Twilight Sparkle, was waking up in a cold sweat as she recovered from the recurring nightmare of Sherclop Pones's deductive reasoning being replaced by nervous tics that were falsely attributed to a form of precognition. Despite the unsettling nature of this, it was nothing compared to seeing Mobius Dick, the infinite white whale, being consumed by a pink non-euclidean being who stretched to Foreverrrrr. The less said about Piethulu, Partier of the Depths, the better.
Finally, after two hours of intense deliberation, Chrysalis decided that the liver spots on her neck were simply too cute to hide. Beyond filling in the holes along her legs, horn and hair, little had been altered. “My beauty should not be covered up,” she announced as her retinue braced themselves for another one of her singing episodes. “Those ponies will chase me like little pups! Truly there can be no compare, so perfect is my silken hair. Oh, their heads spin upon sight of this lustrous skin!” She pointed at the infiltrator, who had fallen over some time ago but had remained locked in position for fear of limb, if not life. “You, fetch me my first suitor! And, err...”
The jangling beat that had ripped its way from the aether whenever ponies began to dance and sing died away as she wrestled with what could rhyme with 'suitor'. “I will also require a painting of a fruit urn!” Looking pleased with herself at the recovery, she jumped back into it, but mostly just jumped onto the back of an unfortunate guard. “I will finally ease this heart ache, no longer shall my love be false and fake!”
The infiltrator, backed by several drones carrying a cocoon, made a smart salute. “Our Queen, we have brought the first candidate.“
Several seconds passed.
“Is that all you plan to say?” Chrysalis said with a twitching smile.
“Err, yes?”
His head threatened to do its best impression of a tortoise retreating into its shell as Chrysalis leaned over him. “Are you suuuuuuuuure?”
“I-is there something I am, ahem, missing, our Queen?”
With a voice as sickly sweet as aspartame, she whispered, “Right, this is your first song and dance moment, right?” He nodded. “So, do you know what that means?” Head shaking. “It means you rhyme. You rhyme that 'candidate' or you die.” She pushed him away and repeated, louder and slower this time, “Is that all you plan to say?”
“Oh, ah, er...” The infiltrator's eyes darted back and forth. “I only hope I'm not too... late?”
Hoof to brow as she swooned, Chrysalis cried out, “I pray you are not late, or we will suffer a most cruel fate...” She opened one eye. “But mostly you will.”
“Quickly, bring him forward with great haste.” A moment later, Bob added, “Before we are crushed into paste!”
The cocoon was raised up and the front wall peeled away to reveal a strapping young unicorn with a flawless brown coat and flowing auburn mane.
“Scatter moose scatter moose dim flan mango!” chorused the guards, much to their mutual surprise.
As was their species' wont when encountering an ongoing musical number, he immediately joined in. “Ohhh I am just a poor colt why do you love me?”
“He's just a poor colt from a poor family. Spare him his life from this mediocrity.”
“Hmm...” Chrysalis walked around the nigh-perfect specimen. “You're too good. Wouldn't want you to outshine my brilliance, after all.
He heaved a breath out in relief. “Will you let me go?”
“Dishholla. No, we will not let you go.”
The refrain was cut short when his cocoon was sealed and pumped full of viscous green goop. As it was carted away, Chrysalis cried out, “Oh, he was not the one for me. A pity for him; he'll never again be free. Next!”
The second pod was brought in and opened. This time, a scrawny, bucktoothed earth pony was revealed. The gummed-up glasses it had were of little interest, not when compared to the pink dress it wore.
Casting a sidelong glance at Bob, the Queen said, “Are you quite sure this one is male?”
“Yes, and a virgin as well.”
“I'm saving myself!” the pony yelled in a nasally voice. “And I just like to feel pretty...”
Chrysalis glided over. “I can make you feel many things, if you prove to be a worthy mate.”
“Oh? Oh. Oh!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, if you come back to my Elvish Pleasure Dome, I'll show you why the name on my character sheet is Poin-Dex-terous.” Despite him not wearing one, all present could feel the fedora being tipped. One might even say it was his fedaura.
To her credit, Chrysalis didn't cringe; she'd experienced worse when looking for a host before. “With pleasure, but first you must demonstrate your ability to sing.”
He bit his lip. “Oh, well, I don't really know a lot of good songs except... Ah, I have the perfect one!” He opened his mouth and belted out the first line, “Never gonna give you up—” before the cocoon was given the same treatment as the first, this time with extreme prejudice. While Equestria Girls was feared for its destructive capability, there was no worse form of psychological torture than getting The Song That Will Never Let You Go lodged in their head.
Rubbing her brow with hooves, notably those belonging to whichever changelings happened to be nearby, Chrysalis let out a dejected sigh. “It seems as if love is not what fate has in store.”
Bob, after delicately extricating his hoof, said, “But our Queen, there is yet one more.”
“Bring him then, if you must.”
“I am confident he will boom, not bust.”
And boom he did, once his mouth was free of the muffling muck. “Marvellous, stupendous, a real show stopper!” the grey-coated pegasus proclaimed as love seemed to positively burst from him. “Couldn't help but overhear your splendiferous singing while I was waiting for the chance to properly introduce myself, and let me tell you I was mighty impressed!”
Chrysalis put a hoof to her chest. “Y-you mean you really loved my singing?”
“If by that you mean 'All the bits it's going to make', then yes! Pleased to meet you, Queen C. Fat Stacks is the name and making stars is my game and sweet cheeks, you're gonna be a heckuva star!” Under his breath he added, “Once we get you a proper song writer, do some heavy tuning with a sound technician, 'leak' a few scandalous stories to those blood-sucking tabloids, and generate a cult-of-personality.”
The would-be conqueror of Canterlot hopped about with a dumb smile on her face. “I just can't believe it! I mean, when I was imponyating that pink prick I got some attention, but I couldn't help but notice just how much love those shallow superstars got!” She giggled and kicked her legs. “Oh, this is all just so sudden!”
Fat Stacks grinned. “If you think this is sudden, just wait until what happens next!”
“What happens nex—”
“Like, Breaby, Breaby, Braeby ooh! I always thought you were fine,” crooned the androgynous but-leaning-slightly-towards-male singer as the crowd cheered. A tidal wave of love rushed forth from the press in time with the beating music, a simple and easy-to-digest rhythm made to get stuck in the head and not accomplish much else. The artistic equivalent of cotton candy; sticky and sweet and not a single nutrient to be had.
Considering the suffering her children had endured at the whims of Equestrian DJs, it was a fitting vengeance.
“Now I’m all done...” Chrysalis sang as the platform she was standing on began to sink into the floor as her backup singers wrapped it up with, “Yeah yeah yeah yeah, everypony is extremely happy for Braeburn!”
She still didn’t know why they couldn't simply say they were gay for Braeburn. In fact, after feasting on the love of a thousand fans, thin as it was from the simple idolisation, she was feeling rather gay herself.
Now safely out of sight from her adoring followers, as opposed to the adherent ones which were filing into the changing room to shed their disguises, Chrysalis returned to her natural form. Despite all the perks it brought, she couldn't help but feel a little dirty wearing the body. If there was one part she particularly enjoyed about the superstar mask, though, it was seeing mares waving signs that said, “I want to have your babies!” Chrysalis made sure to keep a mental file on which ones they were, despite it being written clearly in her contract that no fans were to be impregnated through any of the several means available to her. A pity, but for the time being she was content with abiding by the sheet of paper that bore her signature, as were her brood.
The changelings had quickly taken to their new accommodations and, while there were less walls to line with mucus and feeding pods that needed tending to, she had found plenty of uses for their skills. From staging buying frenzies at record shops to putting on fake headline-grabbing protests, every one of her children had a vital task. Even drone #8008135 had made himself useful by proving adept at slapstick comedy during the breaks at concerts.
Bob, now raised to the rank of her personal advisor and publicity agent, trotted in. An iced mocha and the newest update of their touring schedule accompanied the infiltrator. He gave both to his queen, a knowing smile perched on black lips. “I think you will be very interested by the latest addition to our circuit.”
She browsed the list, running past Trottington, Vanhoover and Canterlot until her eyes found the city in question.
“The Crystal Empire, hmm?” she mused. There was a note beside it stating that the concert would be taking place at the castle itself.
Well, one pea-sized eggsac slipped into a thank-you box of chocolates couldn't hurt.
Author's Note
I have put parodies of Queen and Justin Bieber in the same piece of fiction. Oblivion awaits my wretched soul.
