Celestia’s body was just beginning to dip into mid afternoon, and with the mid-summer heat the only things out in the tall grasses were the insects that hissed loudly in the heat. I was tempted to cry out with them as the sun burned down on my chitin hide. I wanted nothing more than to slink back into the forest where the trees would protect me from Celestia’s gaze, but that choice was far behind me; and there were no forests here in the grassy plains on the outskirts of Fillydelphia.
For a moment I was elated as I saw a red roof peek over the grasses, but I quickly sank into the long stems and did my best to stay hidden before I moved forward towards the structure. This deep into Equestrian territory, any sort of construction meant that ponies were likely nearby.
My wings flapped a few beats in nervousness, which forced me crouched lower and hope the sound they made would not be enough to warn any pony nearby of my presence. No pony came and I didn’t hear anything moving about. The heat was cruelly paining my back, and spurred me forward against my better judgment.
I knew I should turn away and wander as far from civilization as I could find, but I had to get out of the sun, at least for a little while. I prayed that the house would be empty, maybe the farm pony would have gone into town to sell their wares.
Only a few more yards forward and the grasses became thin enough that I could observe the house. It was a quaint farmhouse. It had two stories, and a nice wrap-around covered porch, but it was by no means a large home. The windows were drawn up and the door hung open, but I couldn’t see or hear anyone.
I probably crouched in the grasses watching the house for a good half hour at least before I gathered enough courage, or rather, convinced myself that the likeliness of anyone being home was slim before I slipped from the grass and covered the few empty yards to the porch.
A pleasant sigh escaped me as I climbed the stairs onto the porch and out of the sun. My back was still in pain, and with the absence of constant heat beating down it just made me more aware of it, but at least the source of that heat was gone from me. A few boards creaked under me as I quietly moved deeper into the shade of the porch, but for the most part the house seemed in good condition.
I carefully crept closer and closer to the front door, which hung agape on its hinges. I stole a few peeks around the threshold but I couldn't see anything inside except quaint little furnishings along an entry hallway. The wallpaper, red and yellow vertical stripes, was in good condition and there was no sign of dust on the small table along the wall that was covered in frames. I couldn't make out the pictures that sat inside the frames from my vantage point, though. From the light coming in the open windows I could make out that the doorway to the right led to a kitchen, and the archway on the left held stairs, but the far door, at the end of the hall, was shut.
For long moments I stood there, my ears swiveling in desperate search for any slight sound that would give away a pony inside; I even held my breath a few times to help my cause. I heard nothing, and nothing moved within my field of view.
The burning on my back had become a dull ache and I thought that perhaps the ponies that lived here might have some water in the kitchen that I could pour on myself.
I crept around the threshold and carefully entered the hall, being cautious with each step I took in case I might run across a loose floorboard. I stopped at the doorway to the small kitchen to examine the pictures on the small table.
Yup, ponies. Each and every frame held images of the same mare, a pegasi. She had an orange coat and a purple mane that looked rather unruly, but in a punky, styled way that her short tail shared. Her purple eyes were so happy that they seemed to smile more than her lips. Her expression held one or more of every variation of happy among the many pictures, and in some she was not alone. Alongside her in some of the frames was a hulking red earth pony stallion that seemed to always be wearing a hitching harness around his neck.
I couldn't help but smile at some of the antics in their photos. In one, the mare was hanging off the stallion’s foreleg as he stood on his hind legs and dwarfed her even more than normal. Another had the mare hovering over the stallion, her head on his; his eyes up and her’s were down, locked on each other. I couldn't help myself but giggle, they were such a cute couple and so obviously in love.
One of the frames was down and tucked behind the others. I couldn't help myself. I reached back for it and lifted it but what I found left me rather confused. It was the same mare and stallion, but in this one he was wearing a tie rather than the harness, and she had a simple white veil on her head and a bouquet of flowers in her hoof. I thought maybe it was knocked over on accident, it was a lovely image, but my better judgment won out, at least this once. I put it back down the way I found it.
I was becoming a bit more assured that I was alone as I carefully made my way into the kitchen. It was rather basic: a fridge, a stove, a sink and a smattering of cabinets wherever their was space between the appliances. A window sat over the sink and was wide open, allowing a warm breeze in. I opened the fridge and for a moment just stood there relishing the chill that wafted out onto my overheated body.
I was disappointed not to find any water inside. In fact I was disappointed altogether in what was inside. Most of the shelves were empty. A head of lettuce sat on the bottom shelf and above that was a half eaten hay sandwich next to several bottles of cider; that was all.
The sight of the food made my tummy rumble. I fluttered my wings in a scolding way and my stomach quieted; these foods wouldn't satisfy that need. I shut the fridge and pulled the dishrag off the stove’s handle. I mounted the counter to wet the rag in the sink. The cool water felt wonderful as it flowed over my sore and dirty hooves and I let the stream run, ringing the rag every now and then until I was forced to admit to myself that the flow would not be getting any cooler. It was not as nice as chill water from the fridge would have been, but it would do.
I threw the rag across my back and sighed with pleasure as the chill cloth cooled my burned hide and droplets ran down my sides. The feeling was divine, and the first respite since I had left the cover of the forest days ago.
I re-wetted the rag and threw it over my back three more times in futile hope that more soothing would come. It did turn the burning in my hide to a dull ache, but that ache refused to leave. It would take time out of the sun to get that to go away and no amount of water would rush it.
The relief made me rather comfortable and I wandered back out from the kitchen to the hall to look at the pictures again. They looked so happy and full of joy, I wanted to share in the pleasant feelings that came just by looking. I took a few moments to look over each framed image before moving towards the far door.
I crouched down to peek through the keyhole, but the room beyond was too dark for me to make much of anything out of it. It looked like some furniture was inside, and I could tell that there were windows with curtains drawn over them from the tiny shafts and peeks of light, but beyond that it was all shrouded in dark. It struck me that maybe I could find a place to hide before the ponies returned. A few days to sleep and recover before venturing out again would be a welcome respite; even if they had to be taken in secrecy.
I turned the knob and slowly opened the door into the dark room; the shaft of light I was letting in through the door slowly exposed more of the room to me. The expanding shaft of light exposed a pair of chairs, a small coffee table and, eventually, the opposing couch. On the couch my eyes caught on a large red mass.
I gasped and crouched low while tugging the door back a good bit when the shaft of light touched a large red flank. My eyes narrowed as I strained to look in and verify that it was the stallion in the photos. Every ounce of me was screaming at me to close the door and run, but I was tired and sore and hungry; so very hungry.
Crouched there in the doorway, I was quickly able to hear the heavy in and outs of his breathing. He was obviously asleep and undisturbed by my entrance. I knew it was crazy for me to not run as he was a pony and, on top of that, I was trespassing, but I slipped into the dark room anyway. I quietly closed the door behind me and plunged us back into darkness. I didn’t see the mare from the photos, and I only heard one pony breathing. It seemed we were alone. As I crept closer to the sleeping stallion my stomach clenched to remind me of my hunger.
I really was starving, and with him just sleeping there so soundly… I crept right up to the edge of the sofa he was sleeping on and took in a deep breath. He smelled of fresh tilled soil and apples. A hint of cider edged his scent and deep in my sensory orifices I picked up the emotional queues. His dream was soft and content; the best to be manipulated.
As I took in another deep breath of him I could feel my body responding in ways it hadn’t to anything in months. My magic hummed in my core and I saw the mare from the photos in my mind. A small sparking sound traveled up my legs as I felt the formerly familiar sensation of bones shifting and molding to a new shape. My hide sprouted a new coat of soft orange fur while the hardened plates softened akin to skin and flesh, and an untidy purple mane and tail replaced my own. My horn shrunk to nothing beneath the new mane. I had to hold in the whimper of strain as my starved body expended the energy to grow new bones and convert my membrane wings into the dexterous feathered and flesh ones of a pegasi.
I blinked a few times to refocus my eyes as they were the last to change. As the dark room and the sleeping stallion reformed in my vision, I stretched my new limbs to relieve the soreness that always followed a full transformation.
Now I was not just starving; I was ravenous.
I moved in close to the stallion, and after just a moment’s hesitation of pause I nuzzled my now furred cheek against his. My magic slipped into his mind thanks to our physical contact and began to try and lead his dream towards something I could feed off.
If I hadn’t been starving I would have tried to coax him into loving memories or fantasies, but I was on my last bit of love and reason was lost to my mind. I’m not proud of what I did, but I can’t lie; I went for the easy path, rather than the right one. Any one of my kind learns quickly that love is filling, but some, more potent but less useful, emotions are easier to coax.
Yes, romantic love would have done me more good, and what I did was the height of moral questionability for my kind, but you find me a starving pony that would turn down chocolate for broth. At a certain point the injection of sugar is more alluring than the slow nutrients.
I am ashamed of it, but the truth is I went for broke coaxing his dream state. I pushed him directly past the longer roads of romance and love without a second thought and drove him straight to lust. I nuzzled my way down his body, laying kisses here and there as I weaved a web in his mind. I did my best in my weak state to try and find those delicious adult memories in his mind, rather than having to concoct a saucy dream. Making a dream from scratch was always risky. You had to guess what they like, and if you get it wrong, there is no positive emotional response and you easily wake them. Memories, on the other hoof, were a sure bet.
The bottom of my stomach almost fell out as I heard him groan. I thought I may have woken him, but he just rolled onto his back and continued snoozing. That was the last temptation I needed in my state. Its much easier to coax lustful dreams through stimulation and with his legs splayed out like that it was like waving a thick steak in front of a dog.
I dipped my head between his thighs, placing soft kisses along his tummy, as his thick, musky male scent got stronger and stronger. I took in a deep breath of him and along with it a heavy dose of initial lust came for the ride. I was so desperately hungry that initial dose was enough to make me a bit dizzy. I opened my eyes to stop the spinning.
I gasped heavily at what I saw. His sheath was huge and only grew bigger as it thickened. The full balls hanging below were gargantuan and stretched the soft skin that encased them tightly. This stallion was a giant in every way. I was as intimidated as I was stimulated as I watched it thicken. The flat tip of his tool slid slowly into view from its hiding place as he continued to grow. Even in the dim light I could tell it was mottled and a patch of lighter colored flesh capped one upper curve of the reminiscent-of-a-heart shaped crown.
Hunger, plus a small dose of intoxication from the sexual energy I had consumed, beat out fear and I leaned in, between his thighs, and met the widening crown of his cock as it continued to move towards me. My lips pressed a kiss to the warm, spongy feeling flesh directly on the protruding circle in the center of the bulging contours.
I breathed in deep again and took in more of his deliciously heavy male musk along with a healthy gulp of arousal. My lips opened around that slowly growing flare and ran my tongue along the flat tip, catching against the small hole near the center of the crown while his shaft grew into my mouth. I began to suck softly on him to coax more and more of his intoxicating lustful arousal out.
I tasted his salty pre on my tongue, and it coxed a small moan out of me as I began to bob my head on him. I brought my fore-hooves up and placed one on his shaft, steadying it as my sucking became more enthusiastic. Its sister dipped down low between his legs to cup and lift his heavy balls. Hive, his orbs were even heavier than they looked.
His cock jerked in my mouth and spilled a heavy dose of his salty taste onto my tongue, which coaxed a drunken giggle out of me. I should have stopped, but instead I just swallowed down his taste and continued to blow him. My hoof slid along the many inches of his shaft that I couldn't take with my bobbing. I felt myself getting wet as I traced the thick, bulging, throbbing veins that ran along his length.
Queen, he tasted so good. It was not just because I was starved, nor just because I was drunk on his sexual energy (Though I was, very much, on both counts), but his cock really just tasted wonderful! It tasted lightly of apples and earth, like a smoky apple wood flavor, with an edge of salt from his emissions. I was sure I would be addicted to his taste as my bobs on his shaft grew in their length, and that suited me just fine. I tempted fate by letting that growing crown slide closer and closer to the back of my throat.
My mouth filled once again with a heavy dose of that delicious salty liquid warmth. Thank the swarm for the messiness of pony lust. The liquid slapped against the roof of my mouth and my tongue slid around his cock to gather it all back and swallowed before I decided to give this male a special treat. In my drunken state it seemed like a good idea. I took in several deep breaths to ready myself before I made an effort to relax my throat and dropped my head heavily on his shaft.
His tip had grown in breadth since I had taken him into my maw, a fact I had not prepared for, and when it struck against the back of my throat it strained against my vocal cords. They almost denied him passage, almost. I was just drunk enough on his lust to be more annoyed by the resistance than made aware by the struggle, and I forced myself harder against him. I forced his wide tip to batter its way past my vocal cords and deeper into my throat but, unfortunately when it slipped past, my resolve cracked and I suddenly began gagging badly on his thick cock.
I knew my gagging was loud, and for the first time since I had taken the thick stallion cock in my maw a panic struck me. I tried to pull myself back off him, but It was too late. I felt him flare widely deep in my throat. I was trapped not only gagging on this massive amount of cock, but with that flare so deep I was also unable to breathe.
He shifted under me and grunted loudly. He was obviously waking up! My eyes widened as did his flare, unbelievably so, in my throat. Tears began to run down my face and my eyes went bloodshot from the desperation for air.
In desperation I squeezed his shaft with my lips and hooves and halfway recognized his head snapping up, but before he could do anything more he let out a loud moan and suddenly his cock swelled in pulses and I felt the sudden melting sensation in my stomach as he dumped his heavy load straight into it. I couldn't help myself! My eyes rolled back and my body shivered. The wet sound of my orgasm hitting the carpet and the feel of my juices dripping down my legs from my soaked mare-hood only accented the sudden rush of a hard, heavy, fast dose of pure lust.
For the first time I heard his deep voice but I was somewhere between confusion and panic, “Scoo-? No, it can’t be! What the Fuck?!” my vision was suddenly covered by his hoof and a searing pain exploded in my throat as he forced me off his cock. He tore his flare past my vocal cords and sent me tumbling to the floor with a hoarse scream of pain.
For such a large stallion, especially one that had just cum, he was quick. Before I could even try to right myself he was over me; one hoof on my head and another pinning my wings to the floor. I could only manage to whimper through my coughing as I worked to clear my throat of the globs of cum still in my airway, spitting them into his carpet, “Who the hell are you!” he bellowed at me.
His hoof was crushing down on my skull thanks to his anger and confusion. Getting that off me was my primary concern. Just as powerful, I could feel his cock dripping what cum was left in him onto my flank. My flank sizzled with each drip as my body drunk every last drop of lust it could get. “Why are you hurting me?” I begged, my voice hoarse, even beyond what his cock had caused; I was speaking through the voice box of the mare who’s shape I had taken and her voice was much raspier than mine.
He growled at me! I swear, pony or not, he growled! And with a venom in his tone that made me fear for my life he spat, “I know you’re not Scootaloo, so you better fess up before I smash your skull”.
I was terrified as I felt him impress his threat and increase the pressure on my skull. Pain was building in my temple where his hoof pressed down and I desperately pled, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m a changeling! I was starving, please don’t kill me!” I begged.
My confession only seemed to make him more furious, “Monster! Another invasion?”
“No! No!” I begged, “I’m not a member of the hive anymore! I was forced out of the servitude of my Queen! I’m here alone, a rouge…. please don’t kill me….” my voice failed me and I started to cry under him. I became a blubbering mess and didn’t even think to employ any of the time limited magic his lust had supplied me with.
I really did expect to die. I knew when I was banished from the hive that ponies would have no love for my kind. I thought, perhaps, I could find refuge living as a hermit on the edges of their society. Here I was, I thought, my first encounter would be my last.
He didn’t kill me. To my shock, the pressure of his hoof relented and eventually lifted off me completely. I looked up at him with the puffy, bloodshot eyes of ‘Scootaloo’ and for long moments he looked back. His expression for those uncomfortable moments was a sort of horrified shock but he soon spat, “Shed that skin changeling, you don’t deserve to wear it”.
I lifted my head from the floor, but did not rise as I reached down within myself and gave a tug at the magic his lust recharged. Shocks once again ran over the whole of my body as bones and organs rearranged back to their normal places. I was soon back in my own exoskeleton, but at least now the burning in my black hide was gone.
I licked at my fangs nervously as he looked me over. I just looked back at him quietly. He walked around me, keeping a wide berth as he walked, and then, coming back around to my face, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?” I looked at him with confusion until he specified, “The changelings that attacked Canterlot had shades of blue, your back is black and your wings and eyes are white, why?”
I looked away and sighed before I explained, “We gain those colors as servants of Queen Chrysalis. I have no color because I have no hive.”
My answer didn’t seem to make him any more pleased, “Why don’t you have a hive?”
“Not all of us are the queen’s children. She cannibalized several hives before setting her sights on Equestria. Many of us from other hives refused to give our loyalty to the tyrant queen and she knew it. We were to be executed while the Queen took the rest of the hive with her to take over your country. Our homeland is far from here, and without the magic of the hive it has taken many months to just reach your borders. If you didn’t notice, my body is covered in many more holes than those you saw in your capital.” I answered. I could feel the tears returning to my eyes as I laid down in the middle of his living room. I tried to hold back, but I sobbed anyway.
I closed my eyes as I cried into his carpet. What I had done to the stallion finally caught up to me. I felt sticky, I felt ashamed; I felt fed, but in the worst way.
I was surprised to feel his breath on the back of my ear. “Come on.” he said, pity in his tone.
“What?” I asked.
“I have a bed upstairs you can use. I’ll let you stay for now. At least until I figure out what to do with you.” I had to blink the tears out of my eyes to be able to see him at the foot of a set of stairs at the far side of the room.
I rose onto my hooves and though my stance was shaky and my knees seemingly did not want to function properly he was kind enough to let me lean on him as we made it up the stairs. “T-thank you.” I mumbled.
“Eeyup,” he answered, “You just sleep for now. I’ll figure out what to do with you later”. He looked over at me as we came to a door at the top of the steps, which he opened, and he added, “Just don’t let me catch you in Scoot’s skin again ya’ hear?”
I nodded as I stepped past him into the small bedroom. I looked around at the small bed and out the window at the darkening sky. Turning back to the big red stallion I offered him a small smile and thanked him, “I appreciate it, Mister…”
“Macintosh. Just call me Mac. No need for fancy things like ‘Mister’ in my own home.”
“Thank you, Mac.” I shuffled my fore hooves as curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “When will Miss Scootaloo be returning?”
My ears fell to the sides of my head as his face hardened and he murmured, “Goodnight”. I winced as he firmly shut the door and I could hear him firmly walking back down the stairs. I almost wished he had slammed it instead.
Note to self: ex-nay the scoot-bay.
Author's Note
This was a story I outlined, planned and wrote parts of years ago. It ended up buried in the abyss that is my documents folders and while brainstorming for the new chapter of Broken Hearts and Lives I remembered it.
A little proofreading and editing later Im now posting it cause, truth be told, Its one of the few things Ive written that Im actually happy with.
