Pinpricks. Fireworks and the sensation of a mallet to the brain pan, a dryness in the veins so thick, a misery that Chrysalis had not felt since she ruefully guzzled Prince Blueblood's entire stock of imported brandy.
Gone. Everything gone in the twist of a second. Every calculated scheme, every moment spent for years to conquer the most fruitful nation in the world, undone by one moment of passion and one abominable filly. A groan. A scream boiled in her throat but all that came was a cough of glowing green ichor. Yes, this was quite possibly the worst day ever.
One cracked hoof over the other, she pushed herself half-way back up the charred earth before slumping in the hole again, hacking and coughing. She was dying. And she couldn't sense her subjects , her beloved followers anywhere.
The changeling queen busied herself inventing curses and imagining horrible ways to punish the purple filly who'd ruined her plans. She even had the gall to wave her backside around, taunting her with her perfect double wide.
“Her precious Princess must have something to do with it,” she muttered darkly. “No mortal pony has an ass that perfect. Thick and shapely...”
Her thoughts, thankfully, were cut off by the sound of hooves. A soft clop on the grass, just beyond the thicket... male. She could tell by the gait. Old enough to wander the woodlands alone. Old enough, indeed.
But if he saw her. If he knew what she was...
Green flame flickered from her horn and she coughed up more ooze. She had barely enough power to smooth her hooves down. If she couldn't change, she could at least try to keep from scaring him off. Terrified boys, as entertaining as they were, were useless to her now.
Running, now, but closer. The colt's speed increased and soon he was standing at the edge of the impact zone, staring with wide-eyes. “Miss...?”
She turned a wide eye up to him, her sapphire hair stained from her expulsions. She took him in. Rusty fur. Umber mane, rough from head to toe. A peasant. Bright eyed, bushy-tailed sycophant, with the gall to speak to her as if she were some wilting maid and not the glorious Queen.
And every ounce of vitriol transformed into honey on her lips. That was one talent no one could take away. “Help me,” she coughed. “Please...”
The colt stared a heartbeat longer. Did the news fly from Canterlot faster than she had been blown away? Would he know who she was and put her out of her misery in the name of justice? Would he flee...?
No. He stooped into the filthy earth and lifted her by her heavy legs. And he had to put his back into it just to tug her from her hole, hauling her out onto the grass. She could feel the heat of his body, sweat from a long day's work as he pulled her free.
“Can you walk?” he asked, bright eyes looking back and into her wild own.
The first warm tickles of emotion trickled out of him and into her like the heat of flame. She carefully picked herself to her feet and found that she could at least move under her own power now. That was, of course, no reason to do so. She remained with her impressive carapace against the colt and nodded.
“I think so,” she said. “Can you help me?”
“Yes,” he said, and smiled. “I can take you back to my cottage so that you can rest.”
“I couldn't possibly impose...” she coughed again, but swallowed the green goo. “Oh, but if you would be so kind...”
“It's the least I could do.”
Chrysalis laughed a pleasant laugh. To think that his charity moved her... no, but his infatuation was tickling her from the inside. She needed no magic to see inside of his head. It was all over his movement, his trembling legs, his frantic glances towards nowhere in particular. He was the noble prince who rescued the princess to nurture her back to health—well, that much closer than he may have realized—and childhood stories of flowers and kisses must have filled his head. The scent of lilacs filled her nostrils. She smoothed her insectoid wings back. Little changes would have to do. She couldn't change on him now... patience and care.
Besides, he was too thick to know what she was.
His home, much to her pleasure, was a lone cottage on the edge of the woods. The nearest neighbor was a speck on the horizon line, and the nearest pony settlement must have been miles away. However he had come into the place, he kept it well. Surprisingly little dirt, she mused, for an earth pony.
“It might be a bit small for you,” he lamented, and she naturally made herself appear just a bit shorter. “You don't look like any pony I've met, you know. How did you get here? Are you lost?”
Yes, she thought, rolling her eyes. Lost and helpless and happened to fall into a smoking hole for no good reason.
“I come from a long way to the west,” she explained.
“Outside Equestria?”
“No, not quite that far... my mother was a unicorn. Into weird magics, and my father, well...” she looked aside and sighed wistfully, as if to preserve her family's dignity. He simply nodded in understanding and unlatched the door with a hoof.
They stepped in together, over the threshold, hooves moving in unison.
Queen Chrysalis knew everything that she needed to know in a glance. The colt could bake. Learned it from his mother, judging from the ancestral crests on the stove. One main room askew with manuscripts and maps and planting gear that would have been better off in a shed. Two bedrooms, one empty.
“Do you live alone?” she wondered.
The colt sighed. “I do. I inherited this place and mom and pop didn't feel like sticking around. Went on to one of those modern places. Someone's got to look after this though, or it'll be gone forever.”
“That's awful,” she crooned in his ear, feeling a shiver leap up his spine and spark into her chest. “A kind boy shouldn't have to live by himself, all alone in the wild. How brave you must be to last these nights with no one to keep you company.”
“Ain't so bad,” he shrugged. “Plenty of woodland critters to keep me company and Farmer Marjoram comes by every few days or so to share some gossip and sweet bread.”
Another door open at his hoof. The bedroom. And judging from the mess of half-worn cloaks and faded photographs, he was taking her into his own. A genuine shiver went down her spine. Just how crass was this rube?
“You don't look like you're injured,” he said. “Just some rest and some food should make you right as rain.”
Again she smiled. He smiled when she smiled, and that made her feel good inside. Really good. She let the pony lay her on his bed and basked in his scent while he did his best to take care of her. He didn't know that his little devotions were already filling her up, and while she was strong enough to walk out, the first taste of a pony's love was always addicting.
So she let him tell her stories about his father's lengthy military service and mother's obsessions with Rhododendron. His name was Sawdust; hers was Chrys. She drank his soup and gave him doe eyes while he encouraged her to enjoy her stay. And once the evening had finally settled in he brought in a firefly lamp and made sure there was enough bedding to cover her there for the night.
“I should probably sleep in mom's old room,” he said, eyes down. She could feel his longing like a tether at her chest, tugging and reefing. She bit her tongue.
“No,” she said. “Please stay with me.”
Flush filled his cheeks and he shook his head vehemently. But oh how he wanted to say otherwise. “It wouldn't be polite,” he said.
Almost had him. The changeling queen bit out a faint whimper and tapped her crooked horn against the headboard. “I don't want to be alone.”
His hooves stiffened. He shut the door. “Okay,” he said, and tapped the firefly lamp so that their dim green glow lit the corners of the room and brought out her eyes. She pushed herself towards the wall and made room for him.
Trembling, he cleaned his hooves and then slipped up next to her. In shyness he kept his space but found himself precariously close to falling off of the edge. She dragged him against her with a hoof and heard him sigh, giving into his happiness, and a surge of brightness filled her.
She had him.
It was a little victory, but it was only the start. Perhaps she would leave him the next day, or keep him along to feed on until he was just a husk of his former self. Yes, that sounded appealing. And if she kept up the act, she wouldn't even have to exhaust herself controlling his thoughts. No, the love tasted best when it wasn't tainted with magic or disbelief. He did not know what she was, but he saw her as she was and was falling in love with her anyway.
The sensation intoxicated her, wired heat through her from horn to tail and even made her a little giddy. She hadn't felt that way in years.
Perhaps I've been taking things the wrong way, she thought. And maybe the little hero deserves a reward...
She'd been gazing into his green eyes. He back into hers, but he could not imagine what thoughts raced in her mind. He saw her gentle expression, her building affection and it made his heart race. His soft belly was resting against hers and their hooves laid in a mess, and he was so terrified to even move, for fear of breaking the moment.
A word and she could have him. She knew it so well. But the real fun was in getting him to take it, to make him think he'd earned it.
“You're just so nice,” she giggled, and let her heavy leg rest over his body. “I want to stay just like this.”
“Okay...” he breathed, and she tasted it gleefully.
“Come closer,” she eased, tongue on the edge of maiden and queen.
The colt echoed his obedience and pushed himself away from one edge, closer to the other, now finding himself nested against the curve of her firm belly. She let him feel her breath wash against his face, innocent little wafts of her smell, and gazed. All she had to do was be patient while he looked back, daring, pleading, until he finally... yes.
His lips moved the shy inch and met hers in a collapse of wet heat and a kiss. The quiet tones of his pleasure echoed behind his cheeks and she sucked his face gleefully, but with restraint, as so not to alarm him and ruin the nectar-like force she was eating right out of him.
He broke it too soon. Colts like him always did. And it took all of her will to keep from sinking her fangs into his snout. It had to go according to his plan, or his love would be broken.
So she let him pant and smile awkwardly and shuffle in place. She lay a reassuring hoof across his shoulder and flashed him a bashful smile as if to say I've never felt like this before and I welcome your touch. It almost wasn't worth it.
“I...” he started, and she bumped his nose against hers before interjecting.
“Shh...” she said, and he practically melted. Perfect.
The colt grabbed her side in a surge of need. Were it not for her thick skin, she would have shivered a little. He didn't do what he really wanted, at first. He touched with painful delicacy over the back of her neck and her crystalline wings, the hard crux of her back and stopped just shy of her tail, which she fanned out a bit.
He kissed her again. And again. And sometimes she kissed him. And though he didn't realize it he was slowly changing from a daydreaming colt thinking of romance and chivalry to a pony that craved more and more of her. Every little bit she gave up, he basked in like the rays of the sun and found himself wanting more. Just as she took his feelings into her, wings trembling with excitement, and she licked his tongue as if he were some decadent desert.
Something wet thumped against her belly. The colt blushed harder but she would not let him become distracted. No, she just pressed close, cushioning the slipping stallionhood between them as she pulled him into a proper embrace and tilted her face against his.
The colt surrendered all too easily and thrust himself into her arms, clinging needfully. Now he was pouring his body heat into her and she soaked that up as well, feeling it soak into her, and another warmth was spiking between her thighs.
How long had it been? She replaced Princess Cadence and that charlatan of a fiance refused to do more than kiss and hug until the wedding. Revolting. She wanted to feel somepony inside of her, feel their elation swelling into a crescendo. And really, she just wanted to fuck.
She may have been Queen of the Changelings, but she had needs, too, and there was no way he was backing out of this.
So once she'd had her fill of the inexperienced colt trying his hardest and failing not to hump against her stomach, she slipped her other hoof beneath him and began to ease him up, leading him into the motion. Oh, he believed it, that he was turning her beneath him, that he was asking and she was offering, not realizing that every motion was planned.
But if he did, well, he probably wouldn't have resisted anyway. She transmuted her bemused laugh into a giggle and flitted her wings. Now translucent blue formed a swell beneath her black body and he was balanced, splayed with legs on either side of her, his (admittedly, she conceded, impressively swollen shaft) dripping thin liquids onto her belly.
“Do it...” she whispered, and he leaned back, bobbing in the air in a silly fashion before angling his hips towards hers.
She leaned a practiced hoof down and tucked the wet flare of his head against her opening. She didn't bother to change. He wouldn't look, and he didn't care that she felt just a little stiffer than a pony ought. No, he was loving this. Her swollen vulva kissed against his manhood, slicking it with her luminescent nectar. She gave him another, pleading look and he thrust himself inside of her.
“Oh... oh mm--”
She cut off his exclamation with a fierce kiss. They joined, his rigid flesh spreading her open, swallowed by her waiting body. The lust, love, need all boiled inside of him like honey, and all she could think about was the pleasure she'd been deprived of for far too long.
She twisted her legs and locked them around his waist. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and viced his hips against hers. Her dusky labia squeezed around his girth and no amount of surprise could keep him from thrusting himself into her.
“Yesss...” she hissed, breaking the kiss long enough to encourage him. She shamed herself for loving the feel of his powerful earth pony hips driving her into the bed, jamming that fat dick inside of her and all those nerves she'd conveniently placed to accommodate his shape. Every battering push made her flutter and flex around him and pleasure jolted through her from head to toe.
The colt was so into it that he hadn't noticed the gap between their sexes had vanished, her lips fused in a solid circle around his intruding penis, hampering his pulls and thrusts. They moaned in chorus as they lost control together and spoke only in the wet splashes of kisses and their lustful juices splashing inside and out of her.
She bent and pricked his neck with her fangs. He howled in pleasure and buried his face against her shoulder as their mating continued, relentlessly. She growled when his formidable sack smacked her thighs and soon they were not thrusting as much as grinding their hips together so hard it began to burn their bellies.
“Chrys...” he groaned, and she knew what he would say before he said it. “It's going... I'm gonna...”
“Don't you dare pull out...” She hissed in his ear.
If tried, it might have proved a problem. But he didn't need encouraging. She felt his orgasm welling twofold as he dove into her embrace, plunging her depths a few last times before the wet caress of her insides became too much. He came with the force of a geyser and she made the happiest sound as his creamy seed flooded her. The sudden swell, a little grinding, that delicious feed of electric bliss drove her over the edge and she made an otherworldly howl as she came upon him, only a few gushes of liquid escaping her squeezing snatch to splash him across the underside and utterly ruin his bedding.
They climaxed in each other's arms for a moment both eternal and all too short. Then once she'd caught her breath and she'd let him catch his, and they kissed a few times just for the fun of it, she gave him a gentle shove.
“That was...” he breathed, but she did not let him get far.
She wriggled until he popped out of her and a mess of pony and changeling cum fell against his belly and the sheets. She twisted easily onto her belly, occupying a menacing amount of the bed. The changeling queen turned her rump into the air, still dripping, still tense as she flashed herself directly in front of his nose and leered over her shoulder.
“Again,” she growled.
The young colt showed no hesitation. He practically tripped over himself getting upright and then mounted her from behind, making a few errant thrusts before finding his mark and beginning again.
She grinned and sunk her fangs into a pillow. Lovestruck colts had, at least, unquenchable spirit.
*
The changeling queen used him for most of the night and when he was too exhausted to move or keep his eyes open, she let him sleep in the mess they had made. She would not need sleep after gorging herself on him. She felt positively electric and throbbed wonderfully from the inside. The itch had finally been scratched.
Which left her, contorted as to make herself comfortable on the small bed, to leech his heat and watch him snooze.
I could leave him... she mused, tracing the tip of her hoof along his belly. Or just do away with him. But how long will it be before I find another pony so... eager to please?
The queen laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She would use him until she was bored of him and no longer useful, or if the first feeling became overwhelming enough. Most certainly he would volunteer to 'escort her' and 'return her' to her 'home.' They would find 'friends' along the way as she found her children and their strength grew. There would be the usual precautions. Complications. And if she had to alter his reality, just a little, to make it work, it'd be such a pittance of effort.
Yes. She was going to enjoy this immensely. For the time being she enjoyed the feeling of sleeping next to a loving pony and fell asleep.
