Every second you spend with your muzzle this close to it, the smell gets less and less unbearable.
It's a puke-like scent, but it's more bitter and it has this strange, almost sweet tang to it.
It's repulsive, but you're most certainly used to it by now. You know the first sniff is always the worst. That very first breath, where your brain isn't prepared for the toxic gasses emitting from it. That's the worst part of the smell. That's when you feel your stomach go from idle to turning and rumbling with disgust, and you feel your nostrils stinging, like you're snorting some kind of mild acid... Which you kind of are, to be honest.
The worst part overall, however, is not coming up for a while.
It's a long one. Celestia's usually are. She's a big mare, curvy, and well build, much bigger than her sister and even bigger than you. It made perfect sense that her's would be quite girthy. If you were to guess, you'd say that there is almost a kilo's worth, but not quite.
You listen to the quiet sound of your lips puckering against it as you give it yet another soft, quiet kiss.
Each end of the large thing feels quite different, the end you just kissed is sticky, knobby and covered in some sort of mucus, you feel it plaster to your lips as you pull back, slowly moving your head towards the other end, planting the occasional kiss along the way.
The difference is gradual and the feeling against your lips is slowly changing along the way.
The opposite end is slimy. A little bit softer too. And much lighter in color. It doesn't glue to your lips like the dark, knobby part you were just pecking at, but it definitely leaves a generous smear against you each time you touch it.
You're certain your lips are completely miscolored at this point. You feel the paste of residue on them constantly and each time they touch, they stick together due to the smears from the knobby part.
You take another audible sniff, making sure you appear to be worshipping it.
The sound of the creator, of what you're currently occupied with sniffing and kissing, shifting in her seat, makes you look up from your task for a moment.
She rises from her desk, stretching her long, thick, feminine body as she smiles brightly, eyes closed. She looks so genuinely happy and calm.
She turns her warm, yet piercing gaze in your direction and you quickly return to kissing and smelling what she has given you.
"I'm going out for a time. You just keep at it. We'll move on when I return," she says to you, sounding mild and relaxed in her words.
You dreaded the "moving on" part the most. You knew what it entailed. The very worst part was looming somewhere in the near future.
You remove your lips from it to answer.
"Yes, your majesty," you utter, and she nods at you, still smiling.
She walks out and closes the door.
You're alone. There is nopony to keep an eye on you, and make sure you keep doing what you're told.
Had this been a year ago, you'd surely have tried to find a way to regain your magic, or break the chains that bind you here. But now, you're just opting to lie there, looking longingly at the door the princess just left through, clopping with her free, unchained hooves.
With a deep sigh, you let escape a single, meaningful, yearning sob, a solitaire tear streaming down your cheek.
Then, you simply lower your head down slowly until the tip of your muzzle is touching the brown, girthy log in front of you, and without even having anypony to ensure you do so, you take a deep sniff, followed by a slow kiss.
This wasn't a year ago... This was now...
Obeying your captors kept you out of physical torture methods.
Your hope of escaping this constant torture like a powerful, menacing queen, overcoming even the toughest predicament, had long since dwindled away alongside any feelings of superiority.
Your high title had long since been stripped from you and you had accepted that.
You didn't have much of any kind of hope these days... You really only had one. It was a fleeting thought. A dream of nothingness above misfortune.
The only thought that kept you through the long stinky days in servitude to the princesses, as you drank their urine, smelled their asses and farts, and of course... did what you were currently in the middle of, was the notion that you didn't know whether or not you were immortal.
...
You remember the day you hatched. The previous queen had perished to lay you, passing her essence onto you. She had been dying. That's why she opted to lay another queen. But what had caused her to get to that state, you didn't have a clue. You never met her after all, your mother. A queen is the only changeling to never see her own mother.
...
You knew your role and after just a two-day crash course in changeling ordeals, you took lead of your hive. You were ready to take on the touch and try to claim love to feed your hive. Expand your queendom and ensure a future for your race.
In the end, you had failed.
You close your eyes, kissing the massive log of filthy, stinking, warm, cloying shit in front for what felt like the millionth time, the tears banging against the back of your eyelids.
You had managed to lead your hive well for 125 years, but now, you had failed them... Your children were all dead or enslaved. And you... You had been reduced to a toilet.
125 years... The number rings in your head.
You hadn't shown notable signs of aging since you were 20, but you still never quite knew... Did you have a natural lifespan? Did your mother perhaps lay you because she was getting old? You knew the alicorns would never age, and you knew that they'd never let you leave, or let you die... Your one final thread of hope. You single tiny light in a life of unending darkness, was the possibility of a natural death... A natural end to you and your suffering.
With time... The fact that the changeling race ever existed would be forgotten and erased, but you were certain of it now. Pain is worse than nothingness.
Maybe history doesn't need the likes of you to be remembered, or maybe all it needs is for you to be remembered as a cruel villain who did nothing but terrorize the innocent, until she was stopped in her track by the heroes of history. The two immortal alicorn princesses who, with great grandiose, stood their ground against this threat of pure evil.
Perhaps it's best if all things are left as black and white. It's less confusing that way. Good and evil. Night and Day...
...Life and death... It's not confusing at all to you anymore... Life is a constant, possibly eternal, pain... Death is a fleeting thought, calling out in the burning light of life...
...Maybe one day, you'll get that closure.
