“Oh, for the love of—Mirage, is this thing still broken?!”
Commander Cocoon stood outside his door, having tried for the last five minutes to enter his personal office. The tired and increasingly irate changeling sweated bullets under his heavy purple armor, the oppressive air of the colony souring his mood even further as he strenuously tried to work the door’s faulty handle.
His secretary, a chunky, bespectacled young female, looked uninterested in his struggle and totally unaffected by the humidity surrounding them as she leaned nonchalantly against her own desk. The entirety of her attention seemed focused on a tiny chip in her hooficure than anything else.
Both were standing on top the small platform which stuck out from the chamber wall, one of many vast chambers that made up the colony. The buzz and chittering of their fellow changelings miles below were a distant echo in their ears.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” his secretary droned. “Been meaning to get it fixed.”
“I’ve been gone almost a year!”
“I said meaning to.”
Banging the door in frustration, he whirled on her angrily, snapping, “Oh, I’m sorry, and you’ve been doing what this whole time?!”
“Hey, you know what?” Mirage growled and poked him in his chestplate, clearly not putting up with his tone. “It’s your door. Why don’t you fix it?!”
Cocoon had no smart retort to give. Their narrowed eyes stayed fixed on each other, until he raised one of his strong, muscled hind legs up against stomach.
Bam! In one swift, decisive motion, the door was bucked off its hinges to the hard rock floor, bits of inferior wood splintering all over the place.
Cocoon’s frown turned into a smile. “Woulda look at that? Fixed it. Took me about what? Two seconds.” Before Mirage could open her mouth, he’d already turned his flank to her and strode inside his office.
It wasn’t so much a real office like the ones you saw occupied by five-star generals in Canterlot. In fact, it was nothing more than another dark, damp cave dug into the colony’s walls. All that set it apart from the rest was the furniture and other little luxuries, making it at least head and shoulders above anything most of his kind had.
The familiar musty and damp smell combined his own scent greeted Cocoon’s senses. His shoulder slumped and he gave out a sigh of relief, as if all linger tension in his muscles was melting away.
How good it felt to be back here.
“You could’ve just used your magic, you know.”
The high-ranking officer and decorated war hero of the colony gawped stupidly from the walls of green goo and rock to the splintered wood and metal on the floor.
“... Maybe I’ve always wanted an archway,” he said after a drawn out silence.
“Of course,” she sneered, now lean against the new archway. “Anything I can get for you in the meantime, Commander?”
“Don’t let anyling bother me, mare.” Cocoon held his muzzle high as he marched over the felled door with the resumed air befitting his rank. He was about to magically hoist it up like some kind of drawbridge when he felt something yanked him back hard by the tail.
Mirage held the tender appendage firm in her magical grip, tracing her hooftip along its membrane. “Oh, I’m sorry, Commander, my hearing must be getting bad, care to repeat that order?” she queried in that passive aggressive tone indicating a serious transgression against her.
Defiant, he tried to pull it back, growling, “H-Hey! I told you too—ow!” The tightening grip on his precious tail elicited a nymphish yelp from the grown male. “Owowow! Leggo of me!”
“Oh no, I heard what you said. What I didn’t hear was a ‘please’.”
“... Please, Mirage.”
“Much better.” A slimey tongue tickled Cocoon’s ear, who then felt the sting of his tail smack against his flank like a rubberband. “I’ll keep things nice and shushed for my Cocoon, because that’s what good females do for their mates.”
Cocoon waited patiently for Mirage to leave, her snout hoisted high, tail swishing to and back in some kind of petty victory as she returned to her desk outside. The broken door then flew back up and propped against the frame, finally granting him the privacy he’d been aching for.
He was in no mood to argue, not today. For the moment, he wanted nothing other than to get re-acquainted with his old office. It’d been a while.
Removing both his helmet and chest plate and clunking them carelessly against the floor, Cocoon plopped down in his threadbare chair, resting his crossed hind legs on top his stone desk.
A nice, long on duty nap was in order. After the living Tartarus he’d been through in the near whole year he’d been away from the colony, he’d definitely earned it.
Right now, Cocoon should’ve been living the high life in a luxury suite in the city formerly known as Canterlot, well settled into his new job as Captain of the Royal Guard of Chrystapolis. Not to mention being hoof-fed pastries and getting his holes licked by his new harem of buxom pony concubine slaves.
A pool of the bitterest of bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He tucked his chin into his chest in a pout.
So much for that fantasy.
If that conquest had gone any farther south, they would’ve hit the colony itself. Their army was sent flying hundreds of miles from the city until they crash landed in that… what Cocoon could only describe as some cheap Candy Land ripoff of a kingdom. His memories of its equally saccharine feline residents were nauseating at best.
Thank the Tree he didn’t have to put up with their ilk for long. On the bright side, they were at least a filling buffet for him and his soldiers.
Cocoon knew that as one of Queen Chrysalis’ commanders, his job was to enforce her orders, not question them. He and his cohorts knew they should’ve just claimed their consolation prize and called it a day, but they also knew better than to underestimate their Queen’s penchant to hold a grudge. This time it was against that irritating pony, Twilight Sparkle, or Princess Twilight Sparkle as she was known nowadays.
That plan went as well as expected. For a mare who despised children, Chrysalis didn’t seem to consider how mane-pullingly annoying three kidnapped fillies could still be. That and how the Secretariat Comet didn’t just give her a magical boost.
That only sent them back several more months further. At least he now had some idea what it felt like for his great-great-grandpappy when the latter was stuck in that volcano centuries ago.
Cocoon honestly had to wonder whether he preferred being jailed in that gloomy castle with his Queen over this dank, stinking, overcrowded colony. Aside from this little sanctum of his, there was nothing worth coming back to.
Cocoon opened one eye and noted a framed picture set up inconspicuously on his desk. Levitating it to his hooves, he wiped away a film of dust.
Inside the bronze frame was a picture of himself, only younger and much happier and who had his forelegs hung around two female changelings. The one to his right was Mirage back when she was slightly less… cuddly. The female on the left was a different picture entirely: a tall, athletic mare who seemed to have found the perfect balance between a feminine frame and strongly defined musculature. In layman's terms, a perfect candidate for the Queen’s Colony Guard.
The way she was draped around his shoulders in the photo, nibbling his ear just the way he liked, it got him feeling hot under the chitin.
Digging his fang into his bottom lip, he put it back face down on the desk, something inside him not wanting to look at it any longer.
He got up and wandered around the room so to refamiliarize himself with the place. Maybe he could find something to kill some time.
He discovered his personal gym still set up in the corner as he left it, doing nothing but gather dust and cobwebs. Still in perfect condition, though.
Maybe he could go for a workout? His muscles were becoming a little soft, the last time he checked.
Changelings were the kinda creatures who liked to work till noon, then eat, mate, take a long nap, then eat and mate some more before knocking off for the night, sometimes in the same place they’d done both. Despite what most ponies thought, they weren’t exactly the ideal military force. Cocoon often found himself with a lot of the free time on his hooves to work on his real hobby.
A smirk crossed Cocoon’s muzzle as he modelled his well-built, toned physique in the gym’s mirror; the product of years of diligent workouts and generations of perfect breeding. It’d taken him all his life to sculpt his body into a chiseled masterpiece that could make every female in the colony, including the Queen herself, weak at the knees.
Routine steroid injections and blood doping also helped things along.
He raised both his forelegs and gave each a light flex, watching his beloved biceps bulk up with smug satisfaction.
‘Still got it,’ he thought, bouncing his prominent, well-rounded pectorals.
Picking up two of his thirty-pound dumbbells, Cocoon did a few curls, grinning when he felt that pump going in his legs. He then plopped down on his haunches and straight got to business hefting the weights up against his beefy barrel and down.
It took him a while to perfect his technique, and his weights were decidedly a little heavier than he remembered. Understandable, given how long he was out of practice.
Before Cocoon knew it, he’d finished his fourth set and was halfway into his fifth, barely winded and not even breaking a sweat. In fact, he was now pumping iron much faster than when he started.
If there was one thing the tough, battle-hardened commander enjoyed more than sculpting himself, it was watching himself sculpt in front of a mirror. With every rep and set he conquered, not only did his muscles grow, so burgeoned an already inflated ego.
An idea then tickled Cocoon’s forebrain. He stopped lifting, looked over his shoulder to make sure the door was still shut, and faced the mirror again, a devilish grin on his lips.
A flash of green fire consumed his face and the changeling staring back at him was now a beautiful female. Gossamer cerulean locks draped down her swanlike neck, and dazzling harlequin orbs gave their flare by those reptilian pupils. A gnarled, majestic horn protruded out her forehead, mighty enough to carve through steel like paper tissue.
Fluttering lovely lashes, “Queen Chrysalis” smiled and spoke to him in that sultry, enticing voice of hers that could give a four-hundred-year-old male an erection.
“My, my, Commander.” Her hungry eyes scanned downward as he resumed lifting his weights. “I had no idea you worked out.”
Cocoon bounced the dumbbell in his hoof, smirking, “Only so I can better serve you, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, call me Chryssie,” she giggled, hoof over mouth. “You know… I don’t think I’ve ever realized before just how… studly you are.”
“Thank you so much… Chryssie. And if I might say, you’re looking super hot yourself.”
She gave off a full haughty, noblemare’s laugh, “Oh, Cocoon, you flatterer! But let’s not be modest; you know how much I love a stallion who takes care of himself.”
“It’s been a lifelong work-in-progress.”
“It certainly shows.” Her forked, extensively long tongue wetted her puckered lips. It flickered, tickled, and seemed to entice him with a come-hither motion before sliding back into her mouth. “With how hot you look, my dear, you should be on fire!” She quickly corrected herself, “Not as hot as me, of course, but a close second for sure!”
He was so caught up in the compliments, he didn’t hear the growing sound of hooves clicking against the stone floor.
“Would my brave, strong Commander like a kiss?”
“Only if my Queen wishes.”
The Commander and his beautiful “Queen” leaned towards each other, their mouths meeting on the cool surface of the mirror. They were there for the longest time, lips smacking, Cocoon trying but failing to shove his tongue through the glass and explore the warm, moist insides of her mouth.
“What are you doing?”
A shrill, filly-like shriek escaped Cocoon’s throat, his dumbbells clattering loudly against the floor, narrowly missing his hooves. His head spun nearly a full 180 degrees.
There he saw Mirage lying belly-down on his desk. She was swinging her legs, juicy and thick, daintifully in the air, while she admired the fine specimen with fluttering eyes.
“Sorry I had to interrupt, honey, but that was becoming unbearable.”
Cocoon’s cheeks flared green. “I thought we agreed I wasn’t to be disturbed!” he barked.
“Ohh, I just thought you looked lonely, all cooped up in this cave and talking to yourself.” Mirage batted her freshly curled lashes some more. “Thought you could use some company.”
“Later.”
“Ohh, don’t you want your ‘welcome home present’?” She lifted and slapped her shapely bottom. “I’ve kept myself in shape the way you like.”
“And that’s great, babe, but right now, I’m busy doing something,” he groaned, turning his back to her to pick up his weights again. He checked in case they were scraped; these things weren’t exactly easy to come by.
That hardly spurned Mirage, who removed the pin holding her mane in that neat, sticky bun, letting it all fall gracefully down her neck, before tossing her glasses uncaringly across the room.
“How about now?” she asked him in a lower, sultrier tone, shrugging her shoulder suggestively for him. “C’mooon, let me reward my conquering hero. I’ll do all the work if you want.”
“Go away, Mirage,” he puffed, hoisting the dumbbell against his barrel.
Mirage deflated against the desktop, her legs and mane dangling lifelessly over the edges. The way she fidgeted that large, well-rounded rump and that look of utter disappointment spoke of a mare who hadn’t had been satisfied for some time.
“You kidding me?! You’ve been gone a year, up to your neck in males and first thing you do when you get back is work out?”
“We all have our ways of unwinding,” said Cocoon. He balanced two of the dumbbells and curled both in succession. “This is how I unwind. Look, we’ll all have all the fun at home tonight, okay? Just you, Shatterback and me.”
Some wicked idea must have manifested itself in Mirage's peabrain, because that smile did not look innocent. “I bet you’d wanna do me as her.”
“Don’t try it, Mirage,” he warned her with a deathly serious glare.
She threw back her head and laughed, but it didn’t sound like the same nasally laugh that took Cocoon a monk’s patience to get used to. This one sounded too regal, too refined.
“Not Shatterback, silly…” A green glint flickered in her eyes as her new voice grew distorted. “... as me.”
Before his mind could try to register what his eyes were seeing, a plume of vivid green fire engulfed Cocoon’s desk, casting the whole office for a fleeting moment in lime. When the embers vanished and his sight refocused, Mirage had vanished and a taller, majestic and far more beautiful female taken her place.
A pulse was visible in Cocoon’s eye. A huge lump appeared in his throat.
“Boo!” Queen Chrysalis winked, blowing him a kiss.
How in the wide, wide world of Equestria Cocoon didn’t lose control of his he had no clue to this day. He dropped his dumbbells once more and fell to his knees, prostrating before her as was second nature to him.
“My Queen,” he began, face pressed against the wet ground so to hide his blushing cheeks, “please forgive my impertinence. I didn’t know it was you—”
Chrysalis cut short his grovelling with a witch’s cackle that rolled up and down the cave walls in a spine-tingling echo.
Against better judgement, Cocoon peaked up to see the giant, spindly mare he’d taken an oath to protect and serve slide off the desk with a spring in her step and saunter her way towards him.
To make things worse, the sight of those sashaying hips mercilessly teased his... lower horn.
He prayed the cool surface relieved his swelling. It didn’t.
“Up.”
He did as he was told, such obedience hardwired in his brain through years of training and servitude. As he did, he got an awkward upclose view of her legs. By the Tree, those legs. Unlike Mirage’s gams, Chrysalis’ were slender, elegant, yet still curvaceous and with hatchling smooth chitin riddled with holes so big Cocoon swore he could stick his whole—
He gulped and clapped his legs firmly shut to try to conceal his throbbing schlong.
Then Chrysalis managed to take the worse factor and crank it up a notch further; without warning, she leaned in and began gently exploring his face.
“Look what a mess you’ve made of yourself,” she hummed, flicking away bits of gravel and water droplets. “This is not how one of my prized minions should ever look.”
The unfortunate commander didn’t say anything, or he would have said something if could. He’d been rendered paralysed by her warm breath and moisturised touch stroking his paling face.
“Oh, by the way, you’ve still got my face.”
Deep inside the dark cavity of his chest, Cocoon’s heart—black and shrivelled as any changeling’s—skipped a beat. His masculine hooves flew up and felt the distinctly feminine features of his muzzle. By Great-Great-Grandpappy’s molten remains, he’d forgotten to change it back this whole time!
His handsome mug returned in an instant, but the damage was done. He wondered if it was medically possible to die of humiliation.
At least his flaming erection was dying down. For the time being.
“There’s my hot stud!” beamed Chrysalis as she squished his face like an overly affectionate mother would her nymph. “Mmm, you know, I can’t tell which one I like more. You do such a perfect me, Cocoon, it’s almost mesmerizing...” Their snouts touched. “One of the things I love about you.”
“Thank you,” he coughed, his voice found at last, before clearing his throat and adding, “My Queen. I, uh… appreciate it.”
Barely able to repress a fit of fiendish giggles, Chrysalis gave him such a heavy shove in the chest that he crashed undignified against his haunches.
“And don’t you stop pumping those guns, big boy.” She flew back to his desk to lounge on her belly again, fixing him with amorous eyes. “I like to watch.”
“Yes, my Queen,” said Cocoon determinedly as he picked up his abandoned weights and got back to lifting with forced gusto. He’d lost too much face in front of her already.
“Honey, please, we’re not in public,” she snickered. “You know you can call me ‘Chrysalis’. I don’t see why you struggle: you call me it to your mirror easy enough.”
“Yes… Chrysalis.”
There were few changelings in the colony who had the big buggy balls to call the Queen by name. Then again, how many ‘lings had been in Cocoon’s position? He was close by Chrysalis' side all times, tailing that bountiful behind wherever it went, hanging on every word she said. He could listen to those long-winded villainous speeches and declarations of hatred all day.
When you'd spent your whole life serving someling, you could forgive certain formalities being set aside. Cocoon was by all rights one of Chrysalis' most trusted confidants, her right-hoof minion, and the only male in this forsaken colony worthy of mountain and her rump and just going to town—
He gulped again. Between his strong hind legs, his boner raged with a vengeance.
Chrysalis, meanwhile, whipped out a classy-looking cigarette holder from her tangled locks. Some trinket she’d swiped from Princess Cadence’s dressing room in Canterlot way back. A Queen simply didn’t smoke a plain cigarette like some common broodmother.
She held it out to him expectantly. The obedient male he was, Cocoon promptly used his magic to light the cigarette already in the holder for her.
“Such a good little changeling you are, so good to your Queen.” Chrysalis took an excessive drag and held the smoke in her lungs until it was completely absorbed into her cells. “You’ll have to pardon the ruse, darling, I was bored,” she breathed out several rings of smoke, “and you know how I love to make an entrance.”
Cocoon remained silent; he tried hard to focus his attention on his workout. His chitin shined under a fresh layer of sweat. Fantasies of royal plot pounding egged him on to lift faster and harder, his passions fevered and each exhilarating pump nursing his wounded ego.
‘Muscles are what make the male’, so his poppy told him, may he rest in shit... if, by some miracle during Cocoon’s absence, he’d finally died. Utilizing his people’s telepathic colonial link, he did a quick search throughout the colony for his father’s consciousness.
Nope. Still Alive.
‘Damn it,’ he thought, frowning deeply.
“Anyway, I’ve been looking around the colony for you, Cocoon.” Chrysalis whisked a trail of smoke in the air as she continued, “Thorax told me you’d be down here instead of chasing tails with him, no surprise there.”
“Can’t catch any tail at all if I look like a stick bug.” He showed off his biceps in a mighty, rippling flex, puffed out his barrel and topped it all off with a lecherous smirk. It was his signature move he used on all the females, and judging by the way Chrysalis licked her lips, it still worked like a charm.
The legs were the favourite parts of his for a reason: mare hooks, all four of them.
Chrysalis chuckled, “Touche.”
“So... what does my Queen need of her Number One ‘Ling?” Cocoon grunted between curls, his confidence restored. He was already on his tenth set and hadn’t even noticed. “Got some peons you need executing? I’ve been itchin’ for some skull crushin’ for a while now.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I want you to come up to my royal chambers tonight. The matriarchs and I are holding are throwing a private get together...”
Try as he may, Cocoon couldn’t resist a glazed roll of his eyes. A party. Of course.
He wasn’t one for parties, never had been. His upbringing meant the only shindigs he attended were the kind he was surrounded by sycophantic parasites who wanted a piece of the ‘Commander’s Colt’. One could only imagine the kinds of pond scum who tried to attach themselves to Chrysalis.
On the other hoof, he’d never received an invite to the royal chambers by Chrysalis herself before. Not even his decorated father was granted that honour. He had to admit, it piqued his interest.
“...in your honour,” she finished, secondhoof smoke chugging out her nostrils like a smoke stack.
The dumbbells froze in midair and he gawped. “Wait—my honour?”
“But of course! If it weren’t for your talents, we’d still be rotting away in that dank, filthy castle!”
Even from where he was sat, Cocoon’s finely tuned nostrils picked up the alluring scent of Chrysalis’ venom moistening her luscious lips the more she rambled on.
His balls were now burning with heated anticipation that wouldn’t be satisfied. They silently cried out for their master for attention, but he did his best to ignore their pleas. All those years of training and discipline had to be good for something.
“And let’s not kid ourselves, Cocoon, it wasn’t exactly thanks to Thorax we made it home,” she laughed as she sat up and began grinding those perfect flanks until they were nice and cushioned against the stone. “You’ve more than—nrgh!—proved your worth to me this last year alone, and tonight you’ll be rewarded.”
Now she really had his attention. Like any sane, rational changeling, even Cocoon could get into a celebration where he was the V.I.G for a few long, alcohol-induced hours. Not only was he being granted access to the royal chambers, the eyes of the matriarchs, the hottest milfs in the entire colony were gonna be on him!
The Queen of liars and cheaters she may be, Chrysalis was a (mostly) good boss to her minions and always rewarded loyalty and competence. He remembered how she promised him that if he played his part and they successfully escaped from their fortress turned prison, she’d “personally make him the happiest male on the planet.”
Back then he figured Chrysalis just had been talking up some dumb title promotion and she’d forget all about it later. He certainly had forgotten by the time the army flew triumphantly down into the colony’s mouth in a blaze of glory.
‘I didn’t just do my part, I bucking nailed it!’ Cocoon mentally took note. He’d relish that dumbstruck look on Princess Twilight’s face for the rest of his days.
“So I can expect to see you there?” Chrysalis asked after what felt like an eternity lost with his musings.
He looked back up at her and grinned, “Absolutely.”
“Drop by ‘round nine. Ciao!” With a satisfied whisk of her tattered tail, Chrysalis leaped gracefully to the ground and sashayed her way toward the door, carefully stepping over his abandoned helmet.
“Oh. You’re leaving?” he asked, regretting immediately how he sounded more disappointed than intended.
“Sorry, darling, as much as I could spend all day salivating over your masterpiece, I do have royal duties to attend to.” She stopped at the door with one hoof phased halfway through the wood Taking a step back, she added, “But if it’s company you desire, I know a delightful mare just your type.”
The door fell to the floor once more, the force of the impact smashing it to pieces. The crash ringing painfully in his ears made Cocoon cringe, until his eyes feasted on the jaw-dropping beauty who stood ready for him in the archway.
Mirage, the genuine article, was decked out in a blue swimsuit which hugged her hefty frame, accentuating those smooth, thick curves Cocoon loved so much. She’d ditched the glasses and redone her mane in a rocking ponytail.
Saliva pooled inside Cocoon’s mouth. His pelvic radar locked onto its new target.
“Iiii'll give you the two of you some room. See you tonight, Cocoon.” Chrysalis casually brushed around the vivacious young female that was less than half her height, setting a hoof on her shoulder. Chrysalis smiled at her commander, “Oh, and by the way? Excellent catch you’ve got here! Such desirable assets...”
Mirage let out a small yelp when she received a solid slap to the behind.
The low drone of wings filled the air as the Queen departed, the echo of her laughter and two very green faced changelings left in her wake.
Deciding he was done with exercise today, Cocoon got up, picked up a hoof-towel and joined his cousin, while wiping the sweat from his sleek chitin.
His eyes traveled up and down her figure—that showstopper bathing suit in particular—and the burn in his loins soon spread throughout his body, making his dorsal fin and wings stand erect. Thanks to Chrysalis, he was in a horny mood, and maybe that prize was just out of his reach, but he had the next best thing right in front of him.
“You look hot,” he said simply.
Mirage held her muzzle high, nourishing herself on the compliment. “Why thank you, I’ve been watching my—” a gentle wiggle of her behind, “figure for when you got back.”
“So I was told.”
They slipped their legs around each other in an embrace, barrel against barrel, lips melting against each other as both partners dove ravenously into a kiss.
Oh, how Cocoon had missed the touch of a female. How much he missed her. Grabbing as much of her warm, tender flesh as his greedy hooves could manage: filling up every last inch of his lungs with her scent, sometimes even nipping her neck when things really got nasty.
And he’d sure pick this over snogging a mirror any day.
Naughty hooves explored further down his mate’s back until they reached her waist, which curved up into a vast, overly-generous rump, the piece de resistance. The soft flesh of her flanks depressed easily beneath the weight of his hooves like memory foam. And unless he was mistaken, it was significantly larger than a year ago; her carapace was a lighter shade in places where it’d grown to accommodate newly acquired flesh.
Perhaps the whole ‘sexy secretary’ schtick wasn’t as arousing as he first thought when he proposed it to her. His Mirage was already a smoking little pistol.
“Liking my new getup?” she asked when her mouth became free, giving her bathing suit a snap. “The Scavengers got this little number from San Franciscolt.” She did a twirl for him. “Think it belonged to some rich pony. Probably threw it away when it went out of fashion.”
“That’s fine, babe, because you wear it way better.” His hooves ventured curiously the contours of her body, feeling her love handles like he were determining chitin from quality spandex. “Mmm, nice and tight too.”
“I like to be pinched a little,” she tittered, squirming playfully in the somewhat restrictive outfit before she took him under his chin. “I was gonna fly down the beach and break it in. You know, go for a swim, work on my tan.” She nudged her head out the archway. “Wanna join me? Show off that awesome gun show?"
“Well, there’s no way I’m letting you go alone, am I? Those peons will be all over you if I’m not there to kick ‘em off.”
Holding her hoof to her forehead dramatically, she moaned, “It’s been such a challenge, all those scum-suckers wanting a piece of one of your girls!”
“Pity the poor bugs who try that crap on Shatterback.”
Cocoon then held out his muscular foreleg for Mirage to hook herself around, so she could joyfully revel in its strength on their journey out.
“And besides,” he admitted as the pair’s wings flew them down into vastly open space of the chamber. “I’ve always spent too much time cooped up in that place.”
“You’ve made a great office out of it, Cocoon.” Mirage nuzzled her head against his shoulder. “It makes you look more… professional.”
“Eh, it’s just a cave, really,” he grumbled with a shrug.
She giggled and tapped him on the snout.
“Heh heh, no, sweetie. I’ll show you a cave.”
Author's Note
(A/N) Hey folks, I hope you enjoy my latest comedy fic. For those who haven't determined yet from the references in this chapter, this story takes place after both A Canterlot Wedding as well as The Return of Queen Chrysalis and FIENDship is Magic of the IDW comic series. So yeah, you can also tell that this will also be my first time properly portraying the changelings as an Always Chaotic Evil species, but with still interesting individuals.
Anyway, this story should be a relatively shorter one compared to some of my other works, with it and Citizen Weevil being my main focuses. I'm also considering a collab with Scarheart though that is something we'll have to discuss more and decide for the future, so we'll see.
Until then, enjoy Her Majesty's Favourite.
