Change: the zeal [Disposal]
Change: the zeal
Written by Septia.
Dust from the barn ground plumed up in clouds as the load of apple-buckets landed. Big Mcintosh gave a glance over the ocean of apple-buckets and wiped his brow. Work weighed heavier on his back without Applejack, though suppose he couldn't blame her, she was a hero of the land after all.
“'F Rarity says tey'll haf to ta go where that map tells em, I guess'll oblige.” Sometimes he wanted to come along, he was no slouch, there were many ways some muscles could help out the lass's ventures. Of course, picking apples was a hoot, but… He shook off the thoughts, he knew where he was needed.
“Whooowhee, that was a top notch hoedown if ah ever seen one, great to be back at the ol' farm.”
Big mac turned in a stupor, as Applejack trotted in the barn, shining like the sun. His mind settled, giving her a welcoming smile.
“Howdy Applejack, back so-.”
“E-yup, that's me, and I'm back, big brother,” she interrupted and looked out over his harvest, “still working on there harvest? That ain’t anything stopping you, big bro, is this ere all your work?”
Big Mac glanced from his sister to the buckets. “E-yup.”
“That's just swell, wow, look at all them apples, such endurance is the pride of the apples, ain't it?”
Buffing up his chest, the stallion nodded with pride running through his veins.
“Why, I'd even say all these buckets are a testament to our dedication, pure effort that is what this is.”
“E-yu-…”
“And thas what I like about you,” Applejack turned Big Mac swearing he saw something glimmering in her eyes. Cherishment? Adoration? … lust?
“Erhmrm, Well we do make a team, an I couldn't have gotten though all these witho-.”
“Oh we do, bro, we work so well together,” Applejack closed in.
Big Mac stepped back, keeping his distance by instinct.
“Sis?”
“E-yup, bro?” Applejack asked, placing her hooves over Big Mac's collar.
“Did somethin' happen on er trip? You're not actin like yerself.”
“Phss, that was a funny one,” Applejack chuckled and wrapped her hooves around Big Mac's neck, pushing muzzles together, “how could I act other than myself, honestly, Mig Bac?”
Big Mac's eyes shot open, he didn't just hear what he just-…
The stallion's thoughts were tossed into disarray when his sister planted her lips to his, leaning in against him to hold the kiss. There were a lot of conflicting emotions trigged through the stallion's system. Sure, an occasional smooch between family wasn't out of the ordinary, but… was that their tongue? Slurps echoed between their mouths, as Applejack's tongue reached deep, curling over his, lapping over his molars and moaning warm breaths into him. Instincts told him to shove her away, but she was his sister… His hoof raised to push slumped back to the ground, sweat drops pathing down his forehead. He tugged backwards, just a polite way to end this… his lips wouldn't budge, stiffened to stone, sensation dwindling from the paralysed flesh. As he tried, he heard a smatter, a grind of stale glue. Looking down, he saw a green mucus bubbling up between his and Applejack's lips, plastering them together. She opened her eyes, meeting his glance with caring eyes. -Ghrllk- A tremble vibrated through her throat, ripples on her coat swelled into bulges with the clotted swell of a stallion's condom, crawling along her gullet through moulding her skin around its girth, it glugged with the tremor of chugging two ciders at once. The bloat migrated past her throat, for another to rise at the bottom her neck.
He attempted to shake his head, retreating, but she was on him, hanging onto his every move, as the glugging shifted to her cheeks, ballooning them out, bobbing under their own weight.
“Mmfprf, mmwmgnng,” he grunted through huffs and snorts, but she kept staring into him, as a drove of slime sloughed into his maw.
Bile sprawled over his tongue, enveloping it in a carpet of phlegm with the consistency of day old gruel. Its surface smeared an oily substance through his tastebuds, clogging up the crevices between teeth with an appalling mucus.
-Gllgllsgh- Mucus crept past his uvula, clogging his windpipe and coercing peristalsis to drag the dollop into his throat, all the while the goo stream’s trail congealed into a film of rubber, sealing in its taste of… red gala? His frantic huffing through his nostrils slowed, the consistency was awful, but the taste was, pleasant?
-Ghblgh- -Gbblhb- Applejack kept chucking up globules of the mucus, trickling through her brim like ice cream from a tube, smooshing it into her brother’s maw by the manner of the solidified smooch. Her throat dissented with bloats squeaking through her thorax like mud through a hose, collected in her maw, and sloughed over into his, to swell out his gullet in turn, billowing down his neck and deflating as it reached his barrel.
-Spplgltsh- -Brllghs- The gunk churned between the siblings, Big Mac unable to break the flow. Each mouthful he guzzled down collected in his stomach, molten goo seeping into his membrane, chemical compounds melding into him, activating to disrupt his organ's communication with his mind, sending new stimuli, jolts of crackling electricity imposing their will on the stallion's synapses. In the guise of neurotransmitters they ravaged receptors in the stallion's brainstem, the more he drank, the more his brain was disrupted with floods of serotonin.
Big mac's vision warped in front of his eyes, the barn floor shifting hues, melding together with the walls, colours and shapes malforming into a mish-mash of colour splotches. Even Applejack was taking on a darker hue, her whole body turning black, eyes becoming two emeralds leering through his mind, into his core. As he stared, he found she wasn't feeding him any longer, he was suckling. He nursed the mucus from his sister's maw, his head unable to decipher the innumerable signals assaulting him from within his own environment, sight, sound, touch and smells coalesced into a soup. Until all he saw were those gemstones, but even they were disappearing, slowly, as eyelids clasped over them. He mimicked the motion, darkness falling over his perception, until the soup of sensations turned to night.
~ 1 ~
”Such a proper drone you'll become.”
A voice, in the darkness, something real.
“A shame you can't carry younglings, but the hive always has a place for someone chock full of effort and endurance.”
The world flicked in and out of existence, above him stood the ceiling, and by it he saw a face, a familiar face, a face he loved but had never seen before, his lips twitched, soon to obey.
“J-jack?”
“Tha's me, and you're the hive's next drone, I'm not gonna lie, you're a shoo-in for the spot, just need ta make you presentable.”
He was filled with something, it blossomed forth at her every word, he couldn't understand what, but it made his every muscle quiver.
“Yeah, yeah!” he exclaimed, the creeping emotions budding within selling with heat, his submission colouring his senses, flavouring them in a delightful rush of joy. “Yeah Jack, that is good, that is great, I am great,” he kept rambling, his entire being blooming with endorphins, Big Mac felt his skeleton rustling under his coat. Then his whole word shook, vibrating like everything, sealed in a chiming bell.
“Careful with that greed, we need cooperation, dedication's nuthin without care and generosity, you're not great, you're makin' the Hive great.”
“The hive is great, so great, E-yup it's gonna be the greatest,” he proclaimed with assurance in his voice, every word he spoke that appeased her felt so right, in this world of shapes and hues slushed into a uniform goop, this was a wonderful sense to hold onto, he wanted every moment of every day to fill him with this… this, undiluted pride.
Ablejack noted the slobber drippling down the stallion's muzzle, and he hadn't even noticed. She had only just joined the hive mind, still not a perfect judge of how much hallucinogenic gel was required, but by the looks of it, this one had gotten more than enough.
“What a good lil' colt, already seems to get how things work, excited to serve the hive, are we?”
“E-yu… eryup ooh yup,” the red stallion nodded with enough force that his mane whipped to and fro.
Ablejack trotted around the basin she kept him in, dragging the hollow in her hoof over the brim, watching him trace her with his eyes, reduced to an excited puppy in a bucket.
“Glad yer excited, but this ain't easy, as you are now, there ain't anything matching us,” she soared up on the other end of the basin, crouching and glancing back with her tail brushing over his lower legs, “ah don't pretend it's easy, you'll need to have endurance, but once it's through, you'll be born again.”
The stallion flung his head in nods. There were voices, chanting through his mind, calling and dictating the events around him, but all of them spoke at once, his own thoughts thrown in disarray. But he heard, he heard Ablejack speak, and the trembling, bloated sensation in his stomach flushing him with satisfaction, injecting pleasure the less he heeded the cacophony in his own head, and submitted to hers.
“Yeahs, yess, take me hive,” he shouted.
A grin played on Ablejack's muzzle, indulging in the joy of bring such a subject into the folds of the hive. Or, perhaps another sense in the Changeling was stimulated with the buff pony's submission.
“Then prove to me, prove me the honesty in your words, “she called out, squatting over his legs, tail flicking out of the way for her flanks, the changeling spreading her firm hind, exposing a throbbing chute nestled in her crack. Her pit of flesh quivered, seal shut with but a drop of goo trickling out the smoothed skin, viscous bile tinted in rust. Her insides trembled, vibrations travelling out to the pit, shaking free the glob of slime to fall onto the Stallion's coat. -Fzzlls- It landed with a fizz of soda, congealing to his burgundy coat and bubbling into a patch of foam.
“Ammawn, ooh ooo,” Big Mac groaned and quivered, where the drop landed crashed a shock-wave of emotions, pulsating through his veins. His mind only picking up the sting of pleasure.
“Oh yeah, I can endure, for all, for the hive, please, please let me prove it.”
Ablejack smirked, grunting when her pucker bulbed outwards, skin stretching around the bulk jammed inside. “Then giddy up little pony, feel the hive's embrace and join us.” -Frrrfthgllrsh- Her brim quivered with moisture, spluttering out a drizzle of internal fluids, before the chute expanded, swelling like a gaping maw, morphing to the girth of the bile trudging through, the bud blossoming with a glistening crackle of leaves peeled off of sap slathered bark. A loaf extended from the changeling mare's bottom, curling through the undulating pit to glisten in the beams of morning reflecting upon its gunky texture of divots and crags. Its hue a damp tangerine, littered with air bubbles in the semi-trans-lucid goo breaking the patterns of crevices and furrows spanning across the pillar of slop. The mare struggled as the length's girth bloated, width swelling with throbs from her bottom. Her pucker engorged as the muck surpassed a plumb's circumference and reached the girth of a hoof, the muck traversing her brim at a snail-pace with its shell of colon grease smearing its way through the flesh pit with the sound of wallowing through a bowl of mud.
“Mmnfngs, you'll be a new self after this, yessurri, won't you tell me again how good of a drone you'll be for the hive?” Ablejack requested as she felt the loaf of gunk reaching its equator, holding the past hoof length slab of filth dangling over Big Mac's hooves.
“I'll strive for the best, making the hive proud ever moment I-.”
-Kbllsksh- The pillar of dung was severed by a pinch from her brim, crunched through like hoof chopping through a block of jelly. The muck toppled down, curling in the air before it smacked over the red coat in a tangle of gunk and slime -Kksbrllddfttp-.
“Gnnrmaawwmnngs, aawawh be, t-the b-best fo-for y-your hive” Big Mac stuttered with chuckles and groans interrupting his speech, the mulch sprawling over his coat, matting it in the sultry moisture from the condensed grime and grease, moulding over his legs like butter, engulfing them in the hold of guttural gruel.
“Ye, yeeha, you got it, show your care for the hive, feel its warmth, it is already inside of ya. Ya, big doof, just need to be swallow up in it, let it spread, let it take hold, let it nourish you… as you will nourish it.”
-Chhrngslk- Her pucker crinkled as it warped over the load of apricot stained sludge, disgorging from her rear pit, framed for a moment by her onyx mounds as it descended over the stallion. The gruel piled up, coiling in loops and swirls like gelato melting in the summer sun. Ablejack stepped backwards, spreading herd legs with the brim of the basin as she deposited kilos of processed mulch over the eager, chanting workhorse. Globules of the colourful caramel dangled down with the, smushing together with the churns of a greased swine massaged into a tub of fudge. Changeling dung slumped over Big Mac's crotch and congealed to an orange purée, coagulating with his coat, smothering the foam and bubbles under the weight of the junk-jam caking him like ribbons of frosting. Down by his legs the goop had turned turbid, concealing his hooves for metamorphism to begin, the clouded matter clotting gradually up his body, swallowing his frame under the covers of gruel and darkness, as the muck's chemicals and magic drilled into his very being.
“Hmmnfg, hang,” Ablejack huffed as she dropped loaves of gloop to swathe the stallion, “just starting up, I can hear it through that muck, bungling up your body, hurts don't it?” she asked with a tang of fulfilment, squatting to clench a dollop of sludge off at his chest, she heared it clap onto his coat and solidify like a batch of apple pulp. She felt quivers through her marrow in ways she hadn't experienced yet, or perhaps she had, it harked back to something primal, a joy in seeing the stallion beneath her, caked in chubby droves of her grotesque gloop, watching him quiver and suffer as mud sludge served soft n' sloppy to swallow him whole in the grime and bile. Heat sought her from the filth in streaks of humid smog, curling into her nostrils, a sense of gratification only serving the hive could match, but this was doing both. Her muscles clenched, her eyes blazed green, like dawn's first beams shining through a marble of jade.
“Hhrgnaa, aaasng, ahahm h-hurts s-so, y-yeah,” Big mac squealed, voice shifting in pitch as the burble and foaming ravaged under the hide of gunk.
“Let it hurt, hurting means is working, hurt for the hive, Endure It, love the hive's embrace,” she shouted to the drugged, trembling stallion, submerging him in batches of steaming, tangelo sludge.
“Aah, yeha, hurts for the hive, for the Hivnnfgng, aaah,” the stallion squeaked, his forehooves swallowed up by the expanse of filth, sealing him in the mire which cured into cement, all as he sung praises of words he couldn’t fathom, in a mind ruled by disorder.
“Haha, that's right, all you ponies are a bunch of fakers, think you can do everything, shrouding each other in white lies until you are all bleached like a baby foal's teeth, but the hive give ya truth, love the truth, indulge the truth, learn to see the black as well as the pale,” Ablejack sung, her voice discordant with strain, but played as a magnificent symphony in the stallion-underneath’s ears.
“Please, let the Hive accept this ol' foolmmmngh, aaagng, Big mac cried out as the loaves slapped and overlapped across his neck, their outlines melding together into a mish-mash patterns of grey grooves over orange putty, streams of vapours pluming from crevices and hollows in the exterior as it solidified, coagulating to a gel of gum and staining the air with the stench of overboiled orange and cloudberry.
Ablejack lowered herself, bottom brushing just above the stallions twitching muzzle, bearing her fangs as she panted, overflowing with excitement and sweating in the tepid atmosphere of her own slop.
“Almost there now, think ya can do it, think you will be a great Drone? Speak up,” she no less than commanded at this point, despite her voice trembling in heat and sweat.
“Mnngs, aaa, ah yes, I can handle it all, I will endure for the hive.”
“Dedicate yourself to it, louder.”
“The hive is my home, the hive is my all, let me have it,” what remained of Big Mac shouted, at which Ablejack lifted up her rump, huffing.
“Out with the old, in with the new,” she whispered, sensing her bottom engorged, hauling out a dollop of molten flank purée, swelling in girth like a balloon, until the bile billowed over the brim, bloating her bottom bulb as the globule slumped free in the form of a teardrop the size of the stallion's head. -Bgllsrhhstwp- The mulch moseyed over his face, moulding like molten candle-wax, enveloping him in the clutches of slime, sprawling out in blotches, digits crawling over his cranium to clutch him to his core. The flow continued, drooping chubby vines of butt baked batter, burying beneath its bulk. The mounds piling on top of one another, squishing under their own weight of flabs of jam to form over his head, drooping down in dunes to slather clay through his mane, over his ears, around to the back of his head… inviting all his senses to the hive, as the gutter glue coalesced into a cocoon.
He would register the colours of bright orange, and brilliant golden hay smear over his vision, like sinking into a sea of citrus and banana marmalade… before darkness consumed him.
~ 2 ~
Down the basin laid no longer a stallion, but a cocoon, the changeling caramel moulding to a casket, a cocoon whose visibility clouded as it congealed. The mass condensed, wrapping into an oval, furrows over the pupa converging or smoothing out, forging it into something similar to the segments of a changeling grub, an amber tomb. Ablejack patted the hardened shell, its touch like expired taffy. A smirk played on her lips, tongue curling over her fangs and slurping them clean and shiny, her mind buzzing as she fantasised about the stallion wasting away inside, all to be left would be a vessel for the hive, a mighty ally.
“Cast away the lies, embrace your endurance, dedicate your existence to the hive, ask for nothing more than its satisfaction… cast away that useless self, Mig Bac, let the hive sculpt ya into something more efficient.”
~ 3 ~
A concoction of magic and chemical agents surged through the enclosed space of the cocoon, morphing fur and tempering sinew. Bumps and rattles vibrated from its shell, yet the process was contained. The use of grubs allowed the change to take place from the inside, rearranging organs and flesh-molding tissue to suit their new purpose, but for this, it had to burrow through the outer layers. Carapace came first, etched from skin and congealed fur, creeping through crevices in the hardened plates to reach deeper. Yet, once it reached his bloodstream, it would conquer.
Ablejack watched over the casket of mucus, observing how a light had begun to glow, nestled deep under the padding, but spreading. First just a splotch at the bottom, then sprawling, new patches cropping up, shining with a sheen of lush vegetation – a lamp-screen plastered in leaves. Soon its membrane pulsated, every segment illuminated from within.
-Crkkcr- A crack erupted, resounding like the chime of a gong before the shell and sound shattered together, casting a sliver of light into the barn, with a crunch of seashells smashing under boulders, the fracture spread, bathing the barn in the green neon. -Kllrshtgkckr- It ruptured, crumbling like full grown dragon escaping an egg, shards of the cocoon lobbing from the basin like fireworks, with the shimmer of emerald hide a shadow rising from the mangled cask, breathing with the weight of a buffalo herd.
“Ghraallawwl,” its roar shook speckles of cocoon and viscous fluids from its body, vibrating its carapace clean of dirt, so its whole body glistened like crystal.
“Hrsssnngh, Grawal,” it hissed, grunted, jumped upwards. In every motion there came clattering and clicking of bone clashing with bone, as if it was cracking and reforging itself with every motion, a golem of sentient chitin. Its wings buzzed, but failing to sustain its weight, slamming the creature's hooves into the ground. Craters formed around the hooves and the shock-wave spread to topple a dozen apple-buckets, spilling their fruits over the barn's floor.
“So you stopped lying, huh big guy?” Ablejack stated, attracting the attention of the burly drone. “So much that there ain't anything else left, but devotion, is there?”
“Grrnnff,” it huffed in response. Torso shaded in a deep hue of coal, cavities and holes littering legs and tail, but its limbs were pure chitin, solid bone. Its mane purged, leaving not a stubble on the dome of a cranium. The carapace laid not as smooth and polished as her own, but in layers, layers that rattled and clanked together as the drone walked, restraining it to give the creature an air of rigid stability. The melange of carapace pads were tempered through endurance and force, crafting chitin from coat, leaving swirling parterres etched into the armour, mazes of furrows and crevices, waves and craters formed as the patterns of cooled slag.
As she inspected him, the creature turned. His chitin plates ground against one another, clattering links on a chainmail of natural armour. Distending from his jawline were fractured streaks of onyx, stalactites of bone in a pattern resembling a beard, or talons… Digits reaching out from the depths of the pony's psyche to escape the cocoon, only to be solidified and warped into a guise of terror. In his presence, it was hard to distinguish it from a living creature, mirroring more fabled suits of protection from times long buried. But it was alive, for it was glaring. Its eyes marbled in emerald, mimicking the Changeling that took him in, but lacking the white pupil. Pure.
“Giddy up, Mig Bac, isn't it time you see the hive?” Ablejack proposed, fantasising about the offspring such a specimen could gift the colony.
With a huff that blew hay from the ground, the stallion stepped forward, -Krpplgsh- crushing apples underhoof where it strode, and responded with a voice matching an avalanche of cast iron cauldron. “Yes…”
