Honey and Marshmallows

Chittering. Like steel balls rolling over each other, or a thousand fans caught in a draft, whispering her name and losing it in the breeze. Children, scurrying in the wall and beneath the floorboards.

Chrysalis, still dressed in her foal's skin as Junebug, woke in Sweetie's bed with a start. It was the only sound that woke her up nowadays, but never when she wanted, always winding like a million daughters crying through the tunnels of a cave. She couldn't sleep through it. Waking up the only solution, and escape as well. She could feel the warm blankets wrapped around her body, and Sweetie Belle curled up next to her, snoring sweetly and smiling in her sleep.

Before Sweetie would wake up, Chrysalis liked to nuzzle up against her, smelling the sweet scent of changeling carapace and filly-coat up in her nose. Chrysalis would drink it in, sniffing and snuffing at Sweetie's mane and neck until she woke up, giggling, and the two of them tumbled and toussled in the blankets, kissing and hugging and tickling like two little fillies full of nervous energy for the first day of school.

It was a matter of teaching—there was a lot of that to be done. But things could progress slowly, like a trail of crumbs laid out for the ants on the ground, picking up piece by piece and carrying to their queen's waiting grasp.

"Sweetie Belle?" Chrysalis nuzzled her nose into Sweetie's ear and nibbled gently at her earlobe. The tiny disturbance was enough to jolt Sweetie out of her dreams, and, after a few sleepy-sounding gasps and a giggle at Chrysalis' tongue on her ear, Sweetie opened her eyes and turned over in bed, smiling at her queen.

Sweetie's body had morphed overnight, settling somewhere between its original form and the new black-and-hole carapace that Chrysalis had granted her through the sweet royal nectar that had poured out of her in volumes days previous. When she cuddled up to Chrysalis, she cooed softly, the tiniest hint of fluttering wings echoing at the end of her sounds, her brand-new wings flapping and flickering gently against her back.

Sweetie Belle opened her eyes wide, then scrunched them closed at the bright light that was blaring in through the window.

Chrysalis noticed her tiny pet squinting away from the light, and mercifully pulled the blinds closed, giving herself a rest from the ever-present heat and brightness as well. So often you spent the day with the sun and never noticed it. It seemed owed a conversation at the least, some day.

"I heard the voices again," Sweetie Belle said as she opened her eyes again. She snuggled close to Chrysalis, for now Junebug-form, and huddled against her chest, legs tucked up and together while Junebug wrapped her forelegs around and rocked gently back-and-forth, like she would a cradle. "And I had a strange dream. I dreamt that I woke up and went downstairs to get breakfast... and I saw Rarity, and she tried to talk to me, but when she opened her mouth, I couldn't understand any of the words coming out..." Sweetie put a hoof to her new, shimmery-black mouth and knotted her brow in concentration, her half-compound eyes shimmering even in the darkness as they drank in the tiny flecks of remaining light.

"What do you think it means?" Sweetie asked, pushing herself back against Junebug, especially her rump, which was still soft and squishy under the accompanying exoskeletal developments, smooshing exquisitely against Junebug's soft-but-perhaps-for-not-so-long ovipositor, which was tucked demurely between her legs.

Junebug seemed to consider the question a bit, somehow managing to ignore Sweetie Belle's ever more insistent hip-presses and butt-smooshes. Junebug put a hoof to her mouth and looked towards the window, now blind covered, only tiny slivers of light creeping in through the small crack just at the bottom, and even then, being quickly swallowed by the room's dim entropy, the relative cave that a Queen and her subject had carved out for themselves.

"I think it means it's time to talk about what the plan is," Junebug said simply, tossing a bit of her pink-green mane over her shoulder for good measure.

"The plan?" Sweetie perked her head up and turned a little to look into Junebug's eyes. Junebug looked back at her, smiling sweetly, the ever-present aroma of her unique honeysuckle perfume permeating every inch of air in the bedroom.

"Yes, my sweet-thing. There is a plan... for the two of us, and your sister, Rarity, and all the rest of Ponyville, if you would like to listen."

Sweetie Belle sat up, her eyes wide. She nodded her head eagerly, and fluttered her wings rapidly, sending a cool breeze over Junebug's legs and dislodging some of the blankets tossed down to the end of the bed.

"Uh-huh!" Sweetie smiled and put her forelegs on the bed in between her hind-legs, sprawled out, not confident or interested enough for crossing them.

"First, my sweet... those voices you've heard, whispering at the edges of your dreams when you wake, and when you just drift off to sleep?"

Sweetie Belle nodded and did her best to look intensely interested, which she was, but which was hard to convey nonetheless, still getting used to the way her new expression in her new body looked without the aid of a mirror. "Uh-huh," she said. "They sound like they're scared... or lost. What are they?"

Junebug smiled sweetly, but then turned to a deep, contemplative frown, her eyes unmoving from Sweetie's.

"Those are your brothers and sisters, Sweetie. The hundreds and thousands of unborn or already dead changeling brothers and sisters that wait still to taste the sweet nectar of love for themselves, or else will never taste it again, cut down in the prime of their love-sharing abilities by ponies without a cause or purpose. Simply fear in their hearts."

Sweetie clutched a blanket to her chest and gasped, not for effect, but because she really, truly felt the shock of her Queen's words sink into her chest, and settle there like a thousand pounds of lead weight that was solid and could not be dislodged. So many... why did she feel she had known them all her life? As if she could reach out and touch their hooves, their carapaces the same sparkling, tough-but-ornate black-puncture scrape as hers. Their eyes looking into a thousand different worlds, their wings like wounded fireflies...

Sweetie blinked and shook her head. She squeezed the blanket extra hard and sucked on a corner of it for a second, before catching herself and scolding in her head. Still... was that right? Where had all the changelings gone?

"Many of us were killed by your kind... your original species, that is to say. You are one of us now, and forgiven long since."

"By ponies?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice high and nervous. "Why would they do that?"

"Ponies fear things they do not understand... is it a cliche? It's more of a myth that became reality. My kind, our kind, Sweetie Belle, is simply different... we merely take that which is most-directly responsible for life and share it freely. Only those who feel love should remain a formless, ambiguous promise and shape in the distance would have reason to be afraid. Don't you think?"

Sweetie Belle scratched her head, despite lacking an itch. It felt more like an itch in her brain. Everything Junebug—Chrysalis, her Queen, whichever form or name she used—it all made so much sense. It was like reading the answer key to the back of a problematic text-book after years of struggling over a single page. So much open and revealed. A thousand splintering paths diverged in the dim light of a single second's distance into the future. How was she to know what to do, how to go on? She needed help. She needed her Queen.

But... no, the Changelings, they had...

"There's no need to be angry," Junebug interjected, putting a hoof under Sweetie's chin and raising her face close.

Sweetie Belle caught herself deep in the inhalation of Junebug's omnipresent perfume, and closed her eyes with a sigh as the melody of fragrances whisked her worries out of her mind and away to some place beyond the boundaries of wind or windows.

"Where the ponies have answered us with cruelty, we will respond with kindness." Junebug sat up more fully on the bed, a determined smile on her face. "And the first step is here, Sweetie Belle. I need you. We need you. To take the first step towards reconciliation between changelings and ponies."

"I'll do anything!" Sweetie Belle shouted, then caught herself, and put both hooves over her mouth with an embarrassed look from side to side. "Oops," she said, at a respectably more diminished volume. "I mean... sorry. But I'd do anything I can to help, Junebug—uh, Queen. Um. Miss."

Junebug smiled even sweeter and nuzzled into Sweetie's cheek, planting a soft, perfumed kiss on her shimmering new carapace. Sweetie blushed extra bright, red on black in the dim bedroom light.

"You have already done a great deal, my sweet. But as our plan goes into motion, you will prove ever more important in the days to come."

"Why didn't you tell me about all this earlier?"

"It is too much all at once, pet. You would have been overwhelmed in the first day even more so, and it might not have led us together in the end."

Sweetie Belle tilted her head to the side as she tried to mentally digest the notion that fate was somehow not telegraphed in advance, that her meeting with Junebug and subsequent falling in love could have come apart at any point. It had felt so right... just meant to be. Where was the room for something to go wrong?

"The first step is already complete. Meeting you and helping you find your true role as my most precious drone... but I suspect your sister will be most important next. Rarity... you love her very much, correct?"

"Of course!" Sweetie Belle nodded furiously and gave a determined stare back to Junebug. "She's my sister. We've always gotta look out for each other no matter what!"

"Then you wouldn't want her being left out of whatever your future holds."

"No!"

Still somehow in the relatively tiny slices of light, Junebug's teeth shimmered like pointed fangs, and her smile gleamed devilishly, ascertaining with the edge of a crystal ball at the tip of her tongue.

"Then Rarity will come next. And your role here is very important. To make a hive, more than just a Queen is required. It is much better if I do not have to do all the work myself. But, if we spend time with your sister, and show her the proper amount of love... she will make a wonderful broodmother."

Sweetie blinked. "A broodwhat?"

"Broodmother, darling. A lesser queen, of sorts, to produce many brothers and sisters for you in a short time. And for this, your help will be greatly required. Do you feel you can try your hardest to help your sister join our hive?"

"Of course!" Sweetie's voice went so high and squeaky it threatened to crack the window glass, but instead just made it vibrate at high intensity, shuddering in the frame against the pulled-down blinds. "I'd do anything for Rarity. I wanna show her how much fun it is to play with your special somepony!" Sweetie giggled and looked up at Junebug with a hoof to her mouth, embarassed, overcome with the flushes of love from inside her heart to out.

Junebug's smile remained, her eyes flickering like flaring candles.

"There's is a great deal a changeling can grow to learn and do, my sweet." Junebug ran a hoof along Sweetie's head, brushing along parts of her mane that still remained but were mostly vanished in favor of her new carapace. "You in particular will be very important to our hive as it grows. While I might have come to Ponyville seeking help in any form, I believe it is a matter of special circumstance that you and I would find each other..."

Sweetie Belle nuzzled up into Junebug's hoof and sighed contentedly, closing her eyes and fashioning herself a makeshift burrow against Junebug's pristine, perfumed coat.

"There are, as well, many forms of love a changeling can be taught to absorb. The type we have shared is only one of a thousand different variations..." Junebug paused for a moment as though she'd heard something flutter at the edge of her hearing, but then couldn't find or place it again. She stayed like that for a few seconds before turning back to Sweetie Belle as though nothing had happened and forcing a weak smile.

"Like what?" Sweetie Belle (or Sweetie Bug, as she was starting to refer to herself in her head, which sounded fresh and cute besides) turned her head up and looked at Junebug with wide eyes, gleaming crystal letting in as much light as it could gather from the corners of the separated shadows.

"In the future, you'll be trained to share love with many ponies very similarly to the way you and I have loved each other before." Junebug patted Sweetie's head again and kissed her between the ears, right on her forehead, for good measure. "When a pony reaches climax, a great deal of love can be collected, both physically, emitted from their organ—" Junebug gestured to her half-hard, half-floppy penis-slash-ovipositor, which dangled perpetually between her legs and fascinated Sweetie endlessly every time she noticed it. Already she was poking at the girthy thing, watching the head bob and twitch each time she tapped it with her hoof.

Junebug seemed not to mind. She was smiling.

"Yes, like that, my dear. In our case, the special honey you received was what allowed you to find your new form."

"I like being a changeling foal so far," Sweetie said, the words slipping obliviously off her tongue as though they were no more charged than a weather report, "but I kind of miss being a regular foal too. It feels different. Kind of... empty?"

Junebug pulled Sweetie Belle close into a tight hug, pressing as warmly as she could into Sweetie's newly mottled shape, hints of pink-purple and pure cream making way for skin as dark as the night. As reflective as a piece of obsidian polished under the sky.

"It is hard to feel full when there is so much love to be given, and so much love to be received," Junebug said. "When your brothers and sisters have never known such kindness, or still wait to be born into it."

"I wanna have lots of brothers and sisters right away," Sweetie said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, which it felt like, with the buzzing and chattering in her head as accompaniment. "I wanna get lots of love and make lots of ponies happy and make everything better for the hive!"

"There's a reason I knew you were special, little pony," Junebug said, grinning broadly and snuggling against Sweetie Belle. "Soon, you will rise to your station as princess of a new hive, and oversee the production of thousands of brothers and sisters. But first," she said, turning her attention suddenly to Sweetie's exposed underbelly, her still small-sized filly foal pussy and general eager sensitivity. With Sweetie's new task, her love-intake could be multiplied a thousand times... it was important to take things slow enough that she had time to get used to everything.

Certain pieces of the formula, however, required expediency. A bandage that needed to be ripped off, so to speak.

When Junebug spoke, it was in Chrysalis' voice. An arcane tongue buried under a thousand scuttling legs, words that could neither be written nor translated. Sweetie swore she understood exactly what was being said until she realized several words had passed without making any form of sentence in her head. There was no silence, no sound. The words simply weren't there.

And then she felt the burning inside.

While all of the sensations Sweetie Belle had been experiencing over the past few days, essentially ever since she'd met Junebug in class, had been new, and, to a degree, overwhelming, there was in fact a tier of separation. It she'd valued charts and been able to articulate the feelings beyond desperate, half-finished moans, Sweetie might have been able to plot the distinctions between the different frenzies of desire and need, and maybe even find a way to negotiate them more smoothly. Instead, because she was of no mind for that sort of thing, or maybe just because it would have been an impossible task regardless, Sweetie had learned a new method of simply allowing herself to be swept headfirst into the torrent of new feelings and finding out which bits were most important and stuck over time. She had certainly learned that anything her Queen did was important—her Queen loved her, special somepony to another, and anything that was necessary to make each other happy, or to continue being special someponies—that was something Sweetie Belle wanted no matter what.

She also had gone to touching a lot lately. Touching between her legs, a place she'd had her whole life but never paid any particular attention. It seemed like a backwards mistake that somepony had made as a joke that you peed from almost the same place you could touch to make yourself feel good. And why didn't anypony teach you about the feeling good in school? They'd learned about their 'private places' and not to show other ponies no matter how nice they asked and to tell their parents or somepony older if somepony tried to touch them there, and that probably didn't mean showing each other and touching with the other Cutie Mark Crusaders, which was probably healthy and normal and therefore not necessary to tell anypony about, including Miss Cheerilee, who had almost caught them before the end of school. Why Scootaloo had decided on the old playhouse for their first time to look at each other, Sweetie had no idea. Maybe it was just for the fun of it.

If Sweetie'd had a chance, she would have sat both her friends down, and heck, everypony in school, and had a long and in-depth conversation with them about how you could put your hooves between your legs to make yourself feel good. She would have demonstrated how you could pull your little lips apart if you were a filly to show what was inside, and if you gave the colts in the room an extra peek it would probably make it a lot easier to see their thing too. Sweetie Belle could go around and check with everypony to make sure they were having a good time, and if they needed help, she could take over, with her hooves, or her mouth, or give them up her little hole if they were a colt and had lots of sperm saved up for her...

"Junebug," Sweetie said, her body flushing over with warmth. "I think something's happening. I feel really funny."

"Do you feel funny like the times we've played together?" Junebug asked. She ran a hoof along Sweetie's back and elicited a lengthy shiver that matched the pace of her touch, all the way down to the base of Sweetie's new, mottled tail. "Or a different kind of funny?"

"Sort of the same..." Sweetie Belle said. The bed only had one blanket left that hadn't been tossed off, but even it was starting to make things feel overcrowded and claustrophobic. Sweetie kicked it off the end of the bed, and the sheets to, but to no avail. Whatever heat source had suddenly relocated itself to the bedroom was obstinate on staying there, and Sweetie was somehow getting the full brunt of its offensive.

"Would you like us to help you?" Junebug asked, her eyes wide and innocent, as though the past week had vanished into memory and Sweetie was simply another young foal come to her, begging with swirling thoughts and lustful fascinations on their naughty bits.

"Yes, please," Sweetie gasped, begging it as her body shook. She couldn't pin any of the sensations to one place. They would start in her hoof and suddenly be everywhere. Every time she touched something, no matter what she touched, no matter what she touched with, there was an epicenter, a shock-wave that would swallow her up whole and make it impossible to move or breathe or think or do anything other than lull yourself into the electrons dancing along your nerve endings. Sweetie felt herself soaking the bed already, which was even more of a problem without the blankets or sheets around to absorb some of the moisture. She tested between her legs with a hoof—"Ahhh!"—and let out a sharp shriek, so loud it vibrated the glass on the window, and the jolt from where she had touched her pussy pulsed and swelled invisibly like a lightning bolt had struck there.

Somehow, miraculously, none of the sounds made between the pair had managed to carry all the way downstairs. But Rarity was there regardless, pondering over her little sister's change in behaviour these last few days...

Rarity hadn't wanted to say anything, of course. It was obvious, all the signs were there that she'd shown in her youth, when a new colt had caught her eye, and she'd suddenly been spending more time away from the house than anything, or up in her bedroom plotting and pleading with the universe to please grant her heart's desire. Drawing little pictures of him, with more hearts drawn around the outside. Writing their names together, still with hearts.

It would have been rude to intrude. And still, she'd noticed something else, a strange, otherworldly scent that, if she could get her hooves on it, she may as well have bottled it and sold it for perfume at a Canterlot premium price. What was that mysterious scent, and why had it started to follow her little sister around just a week ago?

She thought about going upstairs, to knock and have a heart-to-heart about hearts and heartbreak, but still, she didn't feel ready. This was something somepony had best prepare for, lest they confuse a mostly innocent filly with an overload of information. Rarity didn't want to assume anything of her little sister, of course. Her sister who, meanwhile, upstairs, was spreading herself out on the bed like a desperate, vulnerable forest creature, in heat or just swept over by muddled emotions, baring its soft and defenseless stomach to the world and showing itself open to any comer's attack.

Junebug, her eyes a swirl between her changeling compounds and her delicate filly's gaze, was drinking in the sight of Sweetie Belle sprawled out, taking in the inches of her from bottom to top that had changed in the course of her transformation. So far, and yet, so much still further to go... and only love would guide them forward.

"When we finish today, you will be ready to guide your sister into our fold," Junebug said. She ran a hoof along Sweetie's exposed stomach and drew out a giggle and timid shiver. Her hoof circled Sweetie's belly, her new gleaming shell grown over, and still felt the same warmth and gentleness to her touch despite the insect-like outside. A changeling's body was a pure and pristine as any pony's, and Sweetie Belle's was only a step first on the path to transformation. Junebug needed to guide her with a mother's patience, and the overflowing of love in her heart that only just kept her eyes opening each day.

"I'll be ready to show Rarity I love her too? Just like this?" Sweetie tilted her head, confused, and yet still reached a hoof down between her legs and began to diddle absentmindedly at her clit and pussy, which was already overflowing with wetness and staining the bed.

Junebug nodded, though her subtle smile told more story than her words had yet illustrated. "In a way, yes. You'll have a special egg inside you that is capable of transforming your sister to fit her role in our hive as well. You and I will share that egg with her together, ushering her into her new position as our broodmother. And after that, your body will undergo one more transformation, the penultimate stage before you can sit next to me as a princess of your own colony. Do you want to know about that stage as well?"

"Uh-huh!" Sweetie Belle nodded eagerly and played with her pussy at a slightly accelerated pace, moaning and whimpering a little between attentive stares to her Queen. "I wanna know everything about how I'm gonna help."

It was easy, with one so small, to feel the energy reverberating in their words, to see the sparkle and glow in their eyes, even crystalline chambered as they were. Junebug had found the pony who was most important to helping her, not through function, but for the sheer love she provided just in her presence.

"When your sister has followed your changes and begun to assume her role, your next transformation will allow you to do much more to help the hive and bring swift arrival of your brothers and sisters," Junebug said. She lowered a hoof to lay over Sweetie's, which was still rubbing circles around her clit, and without moving of her own accord, simply accompanied Sweetie's hoof with each motion, somehow electrifying each touch and sending a thousand more signals to Sweetie's brain signalling her to bray and squeal like a mare in heat. Which she felt like anyway.

"Ahhh!" Sweetie cried out in spite of her worry for volume, and only managed to raise a hoof to her mouth and clamp it shut after her desperate moan had already filled the room and vanished into an echo.

"Your body will become a receptacle for love—that is to say, a form of love which many ponies are capable of producing easily. Your job from then on will be to find sad and lonely ponies in need of love and give it to them, and in exchange, take a bit of their love as well, the love they give you at the end, all sticky and hot and full of their passion and love-juice. And you'll keep it in there," Junebug said, tapping Sweetie's underage filly pussy with her other hoof. "Your special place for taking love, normally used to make eggs. Now, during what we'll call a 'love shortage', it's better to look for forms of affection that are more... tangible."

"I get to... play like this... with... everypony?" Sweetie gasped her words between shaking breaths, panting more heavily with every second Junebug followed her motions on her clit.

"Yes, my dear." Junebug smiled and kissed Sweetie Belle, tickling her lips with tongue for just a few seconds before ending the kiss, pulling away and leaving Sweetie eye-closed, mouth-open, tongue hanging just a little out, before she realized the kiss had even ended.

Junebug giggled. "You'll be able to be a special somepony for anypony who needs it. Won't that be wonderful?"

"Yes!" Sweetie squealed, a mix of the pleasure flowing through her body like heat after warm cocoa, and a still semi-coherent response to Junebug's question. But Sweetie was losing her ability to speak faster than she could rub her hoof in circles. Her eyes and open mouth, tongue lolling to the side, said all she needed to. When she closed her eyes, she saw a thousand blinking eyes, and each one of them in unison, whispering their chatter and wicked wings—We know. We hear.

And Junebug would hear too, wouldn't she?

The scent coming from between Sweetie Belle's legs was new and intoxicating in a different way. While she'd theoretically shared the love of thousands of ponies and changelings collectively, Chrysalis as Junebug felt she was seeing the world through a new set of eyes, the literal at least beginning to bleed into the metaphor. She drank this in too, the way that all the sensations seemed to blur and tickle into each other, the edges dancing and bubbling and making her smell the colours and taste the new sights with regions of her brain that had connected only through time and infatuation.

Junebug knelt between Sweetie's legs, finally taking her hoof away, but leaving much of the same fiery electric tingle behind that had been there when her hoof was moving along in circles. Junebug lowered her face until it was just above Sweetie's dripping filly-foal pussy, transformed but still with hints of cream-coloured softness shimmering in and out of vision. Junebug stuck out her tongue and licked the air right above Sweetie's slit, tasting the heaviness of her wetness and want in the thick texture of smell that permeated everything through a changeling's senses. Love would overtake everything, like blood in a shark's water, or air to drowning lungs. Junebug would breathe in every particle of Sweetie's desire, and the lust would swell through her too, and bloom together with the love into something more crimson and beautiful than either had started.

Even just through the air, Sweetie could feel her Queen's tongue. She shivered and moaned and bucked her hips upwards, trying to reach the tongue that was only an inch away, but that pulled back just the same as her slit reached towards it. Sweetie moaned again, a tiny mmmph sound as she rocked her hips up and down, pressing somehow into the bare sensation of the air and still receiving the electric jolts that told her friction was happening. Junebug's tongue, tasting the air like the petals of a flower. Sweetie's black and white blinking together folds, winking at her and dripping even wetter, feeling the motion through the sense of taste that linked between in their minds. Somehow, Sweetie Belle could smell her Queen's thoughts, in the heat of the perfume, in the overwhelming swelter that grew inside her stomach and chest like a stoked fire, that made her burn inside for more love than she ever knew she was capable of holding. It flashed with thoughts of her sister, finally taken into the fold, a group hug that would last a thousand eternities.

As Junebug licked, finally, just the tip of her tongue tracing up and down the edge of Sweetie's engorged, dripping filly-lips, tasting her for once and drowning in the flood of her young, soaking-wet pussy. Sweetie's pussy-lips seemed to flit and grasp like a dance against Junebug's tongue, each tiny trace eliciting a full-body shock and gasp, and Sweetie arching her back as though spines had grown suddenly along the bed underneath her, needlepoints forcing her up into the air with another long, throaty moan.

Junebug took her time. She dawdled over her examination of Sweetie's sex, capturing in her mind how tiny and perfect it looked, how amateur and innocent, how even though it had been filled with slippery royal jelly and shifted away from the cream-coloured foal that had made it up before, now was still this precious thing, and Junebug wanted it and the pony attached at her side all as she grew, and everything grew around her, forever and ever going on. She finally extended her tongue fully and laid it all the way down the length of Sweetie Belle's slit, the whole thing pressed flat and soft but down hard, enough to make Sweetie feel like somepony was rubbing their entire hoof along her entrance, and squeezing her, she felt like she could be picked up just by Junebug's long, searching tongue, that was all the way inside her now, licking her walls and slathering up in her juices. Junebug tasted every inch of Sweetie Belle's precious place, and then began to lick slovenly at her clit, leaving long streaks of saliva and smearing Sweetie's filly-juices across her chitinous coat, everywhere that was in range, the insides of her legs and her tiny cute soft stomach, Sweetie was on fire and drowning at the same time, the giant ocean boiling around her and threatening to swallow her up.

Still, her tongue. Junebug was feasting, drinking in Sweetie's juice like each drop was a precious wine, licking up her moisture and lathering it back by tongue. Sweetie's squeals were endless now, a single ongoing sound that she'd taken the time only to muffle with a little pink pillow before letting herself open up and break her highest pitch like a siren ongoing. Her eyes were clenched shut so tightly she could wake from a nightmare, and her body rocked back and forth against her Queen's tongue, spurred on by voices that danced at the edge of her ears and mind, whispers of do it and make her happy, your queen, sister, brother... It howled like a chromatic whirlwind, sweeping away even the thoughts she was sure were hers and replacing them with somepony else's, who looked and sounded everything like her, but wasn't quite the same.

"You're already my special somepony," Junebug said, her tongue slithering over the words and Sweetie's pussy as she spoke. "But today we're going to make you a very special pony indeed..."

"Ahhh!"

Sweetie couldn't help herself from yelling. Every touch was like the first touch, a lightning forest fire in temperature and urgency.

For Junebug, every taste was the first taste. Her first tongue to touch, her first tiny buds of dew collected along Sweetie's quivering lips.

Nectar. Patience. Love.

Wrapped in the air, in pheromones and wordless transmission. Sweetie could smell them the same as Junebug. They were permeated.

When Junebug took one good, hard lick at Sweetie's clit, the poor changeling foal thrashed like she was possessed, bucking up and bouncing in bed with the strength of all her love gathered and thrown into a bunch.

"Mmmhm! Mmmn! Mmmnf!" Sweetie moaned over and over again into her pillow, clutching it to her mouth with both hooves now, biting down so hard she threatened to tear the fabric and scatter the stuffing everywhere. Her teeth needed the stopper, something to hold onto that was in the world made of things other than pleasure and white-hot light. It was a heaven opening up to her, the entire door filled with clouds and a brilliance she wasn't able to perceive. Her body felt like it was melting away. Only the core would be left, a hardened center of love underneath.

Junebug kept her tongue active in its ministrations until Sweetie Belle had crested her orgasm and began to come down the other side, and even then, her body still shook violently, shaking the bed and rattling the posters on the walls. Junebug kept her mouth close, sniffing and smelling and tasting as much of the young filly's climax as she could keep close, all of it bleeding into her through the fabric of something eternal behind them, it was moving, transmitting, one emotion that started and ended, sliced out of a cord and given to her on a gilded platter. She cherished every morsel that was fresh sustenance, but this was a heady, pervasive bouquet, something that would stick in the memory of her senses like the husk of a hive even after its occupants had been emptied out. There was nothing capable of being torn down.

At the tail end of Sweetie's diminishing grunts and moans, Junebug paid attention to her real tail, the jagged, swirly thing that had replaced her cotton-candy lollipop-a-like. Every inch of her was divine in this fashion, was moving steadily closer to something that was homogeneous and integrally complete. If you watched closely, which Junebug did, every second they were together, you could see the little patches of white growing smaller every moment, or shifting, glimmering and gleaming and then vanishing as a plate of black grew over, locking Sweetie's new outside in place, her insides already long on the path to looking more different than anypony could tell from just looking at her. There were deep changes, like the burrows of a lair, digging far beneath the surface and tunneling in.

While she pulled and played with Sweetie's new tail, Junebug raised herself up on the bed and line herself up hip-to-hip with Sweetie Belle on the bed, her throbbing, dark member now taking the place her mouth had hovered just a moment before. The change in the air was just as electric, and Sweetie Belle squealed extra loud, forgetting her pillow for a moment, and then catching herself withn an embarrassed hoof and flushing cheeks. Just the head was dangling above, threatening to bob down and tap her clit at any moment—"Ahhhh!"—there, like that, and it could do it again and again and before Sweetie knew it and before they had even started properly making love, her head would be spinning and swimming down another whirpool with all senses in tow.

But Junebug had finished staring at her meal. She wanted to dig in to her special feast. Her ovipositor looked just like a stallion's cock, bigger in proportion to her frame, but just the same length and girth you might expect otherwise, black and bulbous at the head and dripping a steady stream of orange-tinted fluid down the center from the slit in the middle. That slit that could loose anything at all, it seemed, and before had driven Sweetie Belle drunk on the continuous taste of the Queen's royal jelly. It seemed made just for her, because it was. Nopony else had tasted it yet, and almost nopony else ever would. Only the most precious princesses of the hive could be so lucky. Sweetie didn't have to count her blessings when they were here in the room with her.

One look down between her leg sent Sweetie Belle clutching her pillow with both her hooves, hugging it desperately to her mouth and staring, eyes wide, as Junebug lined up the head of her pseudo-stallionhood with Sweetie's dripping underage slit. The head poked in as easy as anything, sliding sweetly like the entrance had been laced by real honey, instead of just the juices flowing from Sweetie's changeling foal honeypot. Junebug even let out a long, steady moan under her breath as she slid inside, while Sweetie Belle was unable to contain herself, and gasped and bit her pillow frantically trying and failing to contain even a little bit of her eager, panicked-sounding squeals.

This too was unlike it had been before. How could she rediscover so much, retread the same ground and still find it unfamiliar underneath her hooves? Her Queen had been big, yes, was big, that was true, would continue to be big... but sliding inside, she felt so full, so stuffed with love and aching to be slammed in and out of again until she got a final, sticky load to fill her up. That was the best part, she thought to herself, and licked her lips, torn away from her lover's moment and thrust through dimensions into the qualia that overlapped with that final flux of affection, the hundreds or thousands of ponies that would be overjoyed just to share that single span of time with her... she could practically hear them calling out. Everypony could be happy. Everypony would have somepony else to love. There would be enough love for everyone.

"My head feels funny!" Sweetie Belle said. She shook it and blinked a few times as though clearing her eyes. "I feel like... I feel like I'm gonna explode a hundred times at once." Sweetie bit her lower lip and clenched her pillow tight, holding it to her chest like a stuffed animal guiding her through a crisis.

But Junebug was there still, and whether her wings were a firefly's or simply a shifted young filly's, she was soft, and calming, and her forelegs felt like comfort as they wrapped around Sweetie's back and pulled her even closer, shifting her hips and sandwiching even a few more inches of Junebug's shaft into her spasming cunt. It was impossible to contain the reaction, and even though she'd spoken looking for comfort, Sweetie felt the sense of worry wash away in the same torrent of tide that had consumed her before, the old and the new always wrapped and renewing each other in the circle of love surrounding her heart.

"You're just feeling very good, my sweet thing. Don't be afraid. Let yourself relax into the pleasure, let it take you away..." Junebug hissed with her tongue at the end of her sentence and licked at Sweetie's ears, granting her another hungry-sounding moan to add to the constant deluge that spilled from Sweetie's mouth with each thrust.

"I'm gonna explode," Sweetie said again, repeating the words to herself as though she didn't believe them. "Ohhh, I'm... I'm gonna make such a mess..."

"Don't worry, Sweetie. Just let yourself feel."

"Ohhhh, my gosh, Celestia, what is happening—ahhhhhhhhh!!!"

Sweetie's tiny changeling pussy seized like it had been shocked, squeezing Junebug's shaft so hard there was nothing she could do but freeze in place, even an inch of movement now impossible due to the tightness and contracting warmth. Junebug let out a girlish groan and bucked her hips upwards regardless, moving Sweetie on top of her like she was a sex-toy planted firmly in place and could not be removed until the sound of filly climax had left the room.

True to her word, she gushed, spraying Junebug, the bed, and even the pillow she was holding up in a futile attempt to muffle her own noises. The pillow had fallen away the second the orgasm had overwhelmed her, and her forelegs had given out, unable to keep it up all the way at the same time her body felt like it was falling apart. Holes in her wings and carapace shifted and shuffled with each other. She seemed to look just like her yesterday self one moment, only, then closed her eyes, blinked, a hundred times, she was sure, and there was nothing but black left over, and she still felt nothing was everything, exploding from all possible points at once...

Junebug's sweat gave off the fragrance of flowers, always unnameable but somehow every variety at once, anything you could call to memory and name on the tip of your nose the ring of beautiful petals she would leave behind, just dancing behind the tip of a shadow. Dragonflies would fall from the heaven in her wake, and the sun would bloom like a rose.

She could feel the egg, ready in her swelling body, stored there for nights and worked over until it was finally finished, cooked overlong, but still delicately, to shame even the finest pastry. It was a tin-foil crown, a flightless bird skeleton that would crumble in the wrong draft of air. And she was to expel it, shot like a dragon from the center of his keep.

She could feel the fire, that burned behind her, spurring her hips to movement as Sweetie's cunt relaxed and then contracted again, squeezing her between thrusts and halting her movement with impossible tightness. How the water to put it out must be Sweetie's gushing, dripping slit, it must be the nectar from the heavens, it must be this type of mana she could drink endlessly in the desert. Junebug felt the stirring of voices, the names she had not yet unearthed and their fragmented skeletons, the pieces of them rebuilt like statues in an ancient city. She was their goddess, their keeper, the highest authority beyond the sun. She was in love with everything that was alive in her.

"My pet," she said, grunted through half-gritted teeth. "My sweet thing. Are you... unh... ready, to fulfill your... duty?" Grunt. Grunt. Sweating like a machine set in motion to lubricate itself perpetually.

Sweetie had nothing but sounds left, and she squealed her most eager and abandoned her pillow, reaching down to her sopping-wet filly pussy and spreading her lips as wide as she could allow, letting each thrust of Junebug's black cock part her even more fully, slide all the way in and out and ram up against her with the head, so deep she couldn't name or even imagine the place...

Junebug grabbed her and pulled her close as she came, as her shaft throbbed and seized and began to deposit the egg into Sweetie's pussy. Sweetie felt begin in the shaft, an absurd, bulbous, girthy thing, so large, like one she might buy at the market, like a vibrating toy she could shove inside and keep over the day... it felt like a hoof when it slid past her lips, but then something even stranger, a mix of two hooves and a tongue, slipping and squirming around her insides, other unnamed or unknown places... and then, just as soon as she noticed it, it was gone, and she couldn't find the sensation of it again. There was just her Queen's cock, the head still throbbing, oozing out an aftermath of lubricating orange liquid, a cousin accompaniment of the thick, honey-like goo that Sweetie had grown accustomed to. Surely not everything was orange in there, but the glow of gold would always call royalty to mind.

It was hard for the atmosphere to settle on its own. Lying on the bed, Sweetie's body surged with gasps, her air coming in giant gulps, each lungful somehow never enough to satisfy her. Still, her pussy quivered, twitching and winking like it was still expecting another visitor, another hefty deposit of orange goo. Junebug had collapsed from her place between Sweetie's legs, even her royal determination unable to hold her up once the task of depositing the egg had transpired. The act drained her as much as it filled her with love, taking every exhaust of her willpower to accomplish, and feeling wholly and truly like the stewing of days and planning of millennia had gone through her all at once. There was just her body left, and it felt used like trees by the wind. The bed was soaked, but with some adjustment, she could pull the sheets and blankets back up, and those were mostly dry still.

Junebug picked Sweetie Belle up like a gentle newborn foal, which, in a changeling sense, she might still be, and held her aloft for a moment before adjusting the blankets and lowering her back to a warm, soft spot. Junebug even tucked another small blanket underneath her butt, to soak up the juices that were still flowing from Sweetie's pussy.

All Sweetie could think of was Rarity.

"Does this mean Rarity is gonna join us soon?" Sweetie asked, half-murmured through the oncoming haze of sleep that was barreling down like it was bared by a freight train. A locomotive carrying the curtain of night, coal mixed with the dust of dreams in its engine. "I feel like something really big is gonna happen... can we go see her right now?"

Junebug smiled and let out a long, knowing sigh as she patted Sweetie's head. She pet it for a while, lingering in Sweetie's cute head-tilts, like a puppy or cat that was eager to have its chin scratched.

"For now, my sweet, it is best for us to rest. A changeling can only exert so much love at once before they must recharge. And I must recharge desperately after our exchange."

"I love you so much," Sweetie said. She grabbed onto Junebug's foreleg and held it tight, closing her eyes and sighing softly. "You're my special somepony."

"And I love you dearly, my sweet thing." Junebug sighed and nuzzled Sweetie's missing mane, the shades of cotton candy vanished for the nocturne of a new night-like carapace. "While I know our minds will cross in our dreams, it will only remind me all the more of the blessings waiting for when I awake."

"And we'll go see Rarity, and make a new hive, and help everypony fall in love..." Sweetie sighed and closed her eyes even tighter, the first sprinkles of sleep-sand already drifting across her eyelids.

"Yes, sweet. We'll help everypony."

Though it was only late afternoon, the sleep came like night, and the brothers and sisters beyond the waking veil greeted them with an orchestra of insect-wings, fluttering like maple-keys in a choreographed spin through the darkness.

Sleep. But soon... love.