Outside of the inn, Ian felt the old worries come on ten times worse. The air was clean, crisp, but he couldn't help but notice the little looks everypony around him gave, they were recognizing him, but not in the friendly way they did each other, or the oddly hungry way the mares in the inn had. "Where's that cart…" He walked to one side of the inn, but the alley was empty. Walking to the other side revealed a little courtyard that opened up and went behind the building.

Reaching over the fence to unlatch the gate, Ian walked down the path and found the cart. Walking up to the sturdy wagon, Ian couldn't help but grin at the straps on the two poles leading from the front of it. "Well, I don't need those. No sense removing them, though." Standing between the two shafts of wood, he began to pull it out of the little shed. Despite the rustic look of the thing, it had two well-oiled axles, and he had no problems pulling it down the path and out onto the street.

Pulling out the note, Ian found that it wasn't just an address, but a map. Memories of Chatter's behavior dove to the fore, only for him to have to shove it roughly aside; he was blushing enough, and didn't want that blood rushing to other places again. What Ian couldn't stop, was the silly-happy grin on his face, something that he hadn't realized he had been missing. Memorizing the directions, he started off down the street.

Each look Ian got reminded him of the fact he was different. It wasn't anything overt, but ponies naturally flocked, or herded, to ponies. Even walking down the street with a big smile on his face—courtesy of Chatter's show—somehow made him less visible to them. Nonetheless, he found the place he needed to be at and turned the wagon across the street and into the alley beside the big distillery.

"Hey there, what can I help you with?" An old unicorn stallion, rickety legs folded against his thin, white-furred torso, was sitting in a rocking chair. On his head, a once-full mane of vibrant orange hair was reduced to a small mop of thin ginger strands, desperate to cling to each other for fear of falling. "New in town I take it? Who're you workin' for?"

"Uh, Chatter… no, Solid Built." Ian blushed as the memories of both mares came to him, and it was all he could do to stop his pants from splitting. "That is, I am collecting the two barrels of cider, and a small barrel of double—"

"Double distilled jacked cider. Just makin' sure you got the right order. It's all ready fer ya, come on around the back, bring the cart." Rolling forward off the chair, the old stallion started walking toward the rear of the distillery. "M'name's Dark Apple."

"Ian." His reply was short, but lifting the cart's shafts again, he started pulling the thing forward, it left him panting a little. Behind the building was open, the whole place lacking a back wall. "Whoa…" He rolled the cart up to where the old stallion indicated.

"Tough critter, aren'tcha? Bet ol' Solid has her hooves full with a strappin' stallion like you around." Dark Apple's horn flickered a few times before he lifted the smaller of the three barrels up onto the cart.

"Uh, hold on, I can help with that." Ian started to move around the wagon.

"Whoa there young colt, you gotta hold the wagon." Dark glared at Ian. "Ah got these no problems. Been a long time since this stallion ain't been able ta lift one'a these." Sure enough, one of the big barrels was grabbed up in his deep red magic and lifted onto the cart, which sank down a little with the weight. "There, see?"

"He isn't trying to prove how tough he is…" Solid's eyes narrowed. "Well, funny I find you here, my little colt." She strode out from behind the barrels she had been inspecting, walking with the heavy, solid gait a mare her size found comfortable. "Who sent you out to run errands?"

"I asked to do things. I want to pay for my keep." Ian wasn't sure quite why he felt defensive, or why he wanted to take the heat off Chatter. "So I sent myself."

Solid's heavy hooffalls came closer, the big mare soon looming over Ian. "You sign that contract and I promise, you will 'work for your keep.' " Her grin was wide. "Hop in the back, Ian. I can pull this thing home. Chatter worries I do too much, but it is her job to worry."

"Her job? Isn't she just your barkeep?" Ian didn't budge from his position between the two poles, holding them steady with his hands. With the third barrel—the second of the big ones—in place, he gave an experimental tug on the cart, and it barely budged.

"Chatter was a nurse in her hive. She raised little grubs, she cared for all the changelings, before they became changelings. She still likes to care for her friends, but doesn't treat them the same as grubs, that is for sure." Solid saw the blush hit Ian's cheeks, and grinned. "Now hop on the back and let yer dam get this thing home."

Ian wasn't completely familiar with the word Solid had used, but he certainly recognized the tone as one a mother would use for their child. "I'm bigger than—"

"In the back, now." Solid stepped closer, invading Ian's personal space and, to his shock, she closed her mouth onto the back of his neck.

A glow wrapped around Ian, lifting him up and taking most of the strain from his neck, and setting him in the cart. A strong sense of powerlessness almost overwhelmed him while Solid held him that way, but at the same time a distinct wave of comfort and relaxation poured through him like warm honey. He was in a daze, looking on as Solid hitched herself to the cart. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat kept feeling choked.

Solid turned her head to make sure Ian was okay, then with a motherly smile she stepped forward. The wagon behind her was heavy, but nothing she hadn't hauled with her cart a dozen times before. Once they were clear of the distillery, she decided it was time for questions. "What did they think of you?"

"Huh?" Ian was barely pulling out of his odd, dream-like state. "Who?" He waited a moment, then put it together. "Oh, Chatter and Screech?" Mention of the two mares shook the last cobwebs of his distraction. "Chatter was really nice. I rubbed her ears and I think she liked it a lot. When I came out later, she seemed… different."

"Let me guess." Solid was leaning into the harness, like the drey-pony she was. "When she was adorable and cuddly she was out of her disguise, and when she got naughty, she was a unicorn?" She looked back, read the surprised expression on Ian as revelation. "It's a little funny. Changelings don't have the same gender bits as ponies, unless they are disguised as us. Then everything kicks into gear. What about Screech?"

"I thought she was being nasty to Chatter, at first." Ian remembered back to how the two acted. "When Chatter didn't argue back—because I was still rubbing her ears, she really liked that—she seemed to back off, I wasn't sure at the time. They argue a lot?"

"A lot would be an understatement, and both of them adore it." Solid turned into the street the inn was on. "Go on."

"She tried to back off then, I wonder if her ears are sensitive too?" Ian found himself smiling at the simple prospect of trying. He took a deep breath, realizing that so far as he had seen, a Contract probably wouldn't be terrible. "What happened to them?"

"They were fighting. It wasn't all officially released, but at the big wedding, when the changelings attacked, they tried to push through to Princess Luna." Solid plodded forward. "It was bitter fighting, but when it was done, there were a lot of dead ponies, and two survivors at the door. Screech almost took Chatter's head off, until she saw the terror. Chatter's hive was gone, her family abandoned her."

Ian was captivated, listening intently. "And then they became friends?"

"Hardly." Solid chuckled. "But Screech couldn't fly, and Chatter couldn't walk properly. Both had lost their friends and family to a stupid fight. Eventually they worked out their differences. Bat ponies aren't really all that common around the city, and an injured one less so. A good changeling is only slightly less common."

The cart didn't jerk, but Ian felt it sway a touch as Solid pulled it into the yard at the inn. "What about the others? Rake… Snapes—"

"Snaps, and she is very particular about how you say that, too. Keep it sharp, like what it describes." Solid braced and pushed backwards, fighting the momentum of the cart and bringing it to a stop. "Get me the two planks from over there, please."

Ian moved fast, jumping down from the wagon, running and grabbing the planks Solid indicated. "What are they like? Snaps… Everypony speaks like she is another pony. Is she?" He carried the two lengths of wood to Solid Built.

Levitating the wood to the back of the cart, Solid started to roll the first big barrel down. "Snaps is every bit as smart as a mare, more so in some ways. She can't talk, but I promise if you spend a little time with her, you will understand." She rolled the barrel up beside the inn, where a big set of double-doors led into the ground. "Then you have Rake. Pegasus, skinny as a whip. Snaps and her are sisters, and Ian," Solid made sure to get his attention, "never for one second question that. Rake was raised in the Everfree Forest. She thinks every bit the same as Snaps, but she talks, if she likes you."

"Sisters, got it. Rake was the thin mare?" Ian watched for Solid to nod. Wanting to be useful, he reached into the cart and heaved the little barrel up and onto his shoulder; it was heavy, but he wasn't a small guy. "Okay, and the robot pony?"

"Click Clack. Call her Clicks." Solid's muscles twisted like rope as she heaved the second big barrel, bodily, from the cart. "She was made for war, made to be an unthinking fighter that Equestria could rely on to save its soldiers. Like many of her kind, magic happened." She used her magic to stack the two planks back on the cart, then again to open the doors to the cellar. "She is a little delicate in some ways, she will defend anypony she believes deserves it, and even begged to stay in the army, but it was too much for them. Like everypony else, she wound up here, with us."

"And me?" Ian walked to the doors and looked down. "A lift? Neat." He set the small barrel on one side of the platform.

"And you too. If you need a place to stay, and want to do some work, you are welcome to stay here. If you, and the girls, are interested in you signing the Contract, then that is gravy." Solid rolled one big barrel onto the lift, then the other. "And the girls might even want to have some fun without the Contract, like we did. But know this, if a stallion comes along and signs with us, you will be off the menu."

Ian watched as Solid stood back from the lift, but used her magic to trigger it. The three barrels were lowered down into the cellar of the inn. "You are that…" He didn't want to say desperate. "Eager."

"We are, Ian. There is something inside all of us… except Clicks, that wants a foal. If you get any of us without a Contract, we are okay with that, we will raise any filly or colt. But know that if you sign that, foals are on the menu, and aren't negotiable." Solid closed the big doors and walked right up to Ian. "You get a choice, my little colt. Either you walk along at my side like a good foal, or I carry you."

The ultimatum startled Ian. He looked at Solid for any hint she might be joking. His memory ran back to how it felt to be picked up and carried, just like a foal. He trembled a little, and imagined that feeling again. A firm mouth gripping his neck, the magic taking most of the weight from the mouth-hold, but leaving him still feeling helplessly carried. Until the front door of the inn banged open, he didn't realize that Solid had made his mind up for him. His legs were curled up a little, held in place by her magic. There was nothing else for it, he couldn't stop his groin from reacting, his shaft growing hard against his pants.

"Momma Solid is home!" Chatter was halfway across the bar before she realized that Solid was carrying Ian like a foal. "And she has a new colt!" She pranced a little, reaching in with her snout to nuzzle at Ian's cheek. "And isn't he just adorable. Where did you find him?" Her grin was a mile wide.

Solid could smell Ian's arousal, she remembered what he had been like the previous night. He smelled good. "Somepony sent him out with our cart, to help me bring back the new cider load. I think they can head downstairs and take care of putting it away." She gave Chatter a meaningful look.

Ian couldn't think completely straight, not carried like that, but when he felt a soft seat under his rear he relaxed into it, not realizing a soft, feathered wing curled around behind his shoulders. It was too easy to lean against the pony, until he felt her ribs. His hand was around Rake, tracing up and down her side, feeling how amazingly thin she was. "Rake."

"Look what momma brought home for the pack? You are Ian. Chatter says you are very tasty indeed." Rake liked to be touched, and more, she liked how his fingers traced her form. "But what will be offered tonight, for supper?"

"I… uh, hi?" Ian tried to pull back to a more comfortable distance, but the thin mare was having none of it. Her wing felt like it was made of steel cable, the tendons having worked harder to make the limb an extra arm, than give her flight. It intrigued him, and without realizing it, his fingers traced up her side, finding her other wing. The gasp from her lips was anything but the hard, predator he had just been listening to, she sounded happy.

Rake turned a fraction, bringing both her eyes to focus on Ian's own. "Don't start what you won't finish." She bared her teeth, teeth filed to sharp points—but it was posturing. Rake groaned as his fingers traced up her wing, feeling each feather, each tendon, and each and every bone. She slid her wing out for him, letting him explore further. "Solid…"

Ian almost ignored the name, until he realized the big mare was still there, watching them with a loving grin.

"Yes, Rake?" Solid was almost purring like a big tabby cat.

"I like him, he likes to explore, to touch." Rake moved, pulling Ian over her, dropping to her back and pulling his head upwards. She tilted her head back.

"Wait, what…?" Ian was now laying over the mare, his mouth pressed in against her neck. He was more than a little worried, until his ear caught the sound of her breathing. Rake was panting in excitement, an excitement he found himself sharing. He drew his hand up to her shoulder, rubbing the tight muscle, then up to her neck. Everything about her seemed compact and thin, except she certainly didn't lack strength. Something tickled his memory. "Your sister?"

"Will want her turn, later. Bite my neck, damn you." Rake's voice came out with a chuckle behind it. "Am I really going to have to tell my stallion what to do?" She tilted her head just enough to see Ian biting at her, and she groaned in delight.

Author's Note

Fuel my writing on Ko-Fi!

Join me on Discord. Warning, said chat may contain NSFW material and should be considered adult in nature.

Awesome ponies who are already helping to keep me in keyboards and rum:
Canary in the Coal Mine
Daremo
Mary Rowland
Boulder
A.P.O.N.I.
Mephia
Nils
Ian
Dio-Drogynous

And special thanks to the following, for careful eyes and friendly words:
Daremo
Vutava
Boulder
Jeffh4