Author's Note
Special thanks to anyone that read this!
Couldn't find a better cover-art, sorry.
Bug Problems
A Load of Bug Problems
“Alright, let’s seeee,” Spike muttered as he paced around his room, a scroll dangling from one hand and a quill on the other. “ ‘To the most gracious, blah blah blah. It is with great honor that I accept, blah blah blah. The date for the meeting and dinner between Royals for the signing of the alliance between Equestria and the Changeling Hive shall be set, blah blah blah. Yours truly, Princess Twilight Sparkle. PS. As you requested, Spike shall come along,” he said with a last sigh of relief, rolling up the scroll and sealing it. “There. It’s done,” with a short inhale of air, he breathed a short-lived green flame that consumed the scroll.
He watched as the scroll’s magical ashes flew out his room’s window and into the beyond, roundabout to the direction of the newly re-named Changedlands. Nodding to himself for a job well done, he turned around to face his large desk. On it, several tools, a few gems for snacking, parchment, quills, and ink could be seen scattered around its surface. On the big mirror that was attached to his desk dozens upon dozens of photos could be seen.
Most of those photos depicted him with one or more of his friends doing this or that. Some others were of him and other ponies around town, a few prizes he won in competitions, including a theatre directing play, and other such fun, random situations. A few others, however, were clearly more personal. Pictures of him sharing a cake with Celestia, Luna, and Discord, or him and Smolder looking embarrassed as they hugged, or him and Ember having tea, or him and Thorax playing chess.
He smiled at the last one. It had been some time since he last saw Thorax. Sure, they were pen-pals, but nothing could quite beat talking in person; sharing stories, making jokes, complaining about things. Still, he knew Thorax had little time to spend freely.
“Ahhhh, the duties and hurdles of leadership,” he exclaimed sadly. Whilst he was no ruler, and he certainly didn’t look forward to being one nor had the desire to do so, he had spent most of his life surrounded/raised by ponies in charge of leading Equestria. Regardless of his personal feelings and desires to spend more time with his dear friend, he knew Thorax had many responsibilities as King of the Changelings, and thus, he couldn’t complain.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy and giddy to see him again three days from now, however. And maybe, just maybe, after finally signing the document that officially marked the two nations as allies, they could spend more time together and even invite Ember along!
Spike giggled like a foal at the mere thought of spending a whole day with his friends again, only this time on purpose.
“I wonder if I can convince Thorax to join Guys Night?” He asked himself as he stared at the photo depicting him and Thorax making silly faces. Suddenly, he felt an itch crawl up his nose. Knowing what was about to happen, he covered his face with both hands to protect his precious photos. Then, he sneezed.
“AACHOOOOOO!”
And did so loudly. Fortunately for him, he was a dragon. And dragons don’t sneeze snot, saliva, or mucus. Unfortunately for him, he was a dragon. And dragons sneezed either smoke or fire. Sometimes both.
A lot of it.
Enough to cover his small body quite easily.
One moment Spike was standing in the middle of his room, the next he was flying out the window in ashes.
************************************************
When the ashes reached their destination, Spike materialized instantly.
“Ahhhhhh!” He screamed one second after reappearing. With the ground approaching quickly, Spike tried to use his wings but, to his dismay, his wings were numb and he could barely afford to flap them weakly. He was saved from crashing against the floor, and probably explain why he broke it, by a giant green thing he couldn’t identify intercepting his fall. “Ooouuffffffhhh!” He let out as he hit the oddly soft and warm thing that had just saved him.
Before he could catch a breath, the giant green thing moved and trembled violently. The movement was enough to send him flying again, but thankfully, he was close enough to the ground now that even his still useless wings slowed him down enough to not leave a mark.
Standing up, Spike dusted himself off and looked around.
“...Uhhhhh… Pony feathers…,” he cursed as he saw giant changelings sitting around tables; chatting, laughing, and enjoying themselves. Despite his supreme hearing, he couldn’t make out what they were saying as the multitude of voices was like crashing boulders to his ear-fins. “Heeeeey! HEEEEEEEEEEYYYY! OVEEER HEEEEERE!” He shouted as loudly as he could, but to no avail.
He then tried to breathe some fire to catch anyling’s attention but found himself unable to do more than a pathetic cloud of smoke for the moment. “Greeeeeeat,” he droned in annoyance. “Okay, now… what the heck do I do? Better yet, what happened?” He asked himself. “Let’s see… I was in my room, I sneezed, and now I’m here,” he slapped his forehead. “Fantastic, I sent myself!” He stopped to look around, then at himself, then at the changelings, then at himself once again. “...Why am I so tiny!? Arrrrrggggh! This is spell number eight-hundred and two all over again! Only this time I don’t know what is--”
He stopped himself when he felt the ground rumble. Looking up, he saw a hoof coming right at him. Running blindingly away from the spot, he avoided being stomped on, but the gush of air expelled by the impact threw him aside for a short distance. Getting up once more, he barely missed being squashed by a changeling’s butt. Before he could catch a breath, he was forced to avoid yet another hoof from squishing him.
One, two, five, and finally ten times he narrowly avoided being squished, squashed, and otherwise stomped on. Finally reaching a small corner away from dangers, he was able to catch a breath at last. “Oh… sure! How cool is it… to be the… only dragon able… to do actual magic! Not so much right now!” He groaned as loudly as his lungs allowed him. “Okay… okay, Spike. Think. I’m tiny, about the size of a firefly,” he told himself as he looked down at his body and then to a passing firefly. “I can’t use fire for the moment. My wings are so weak I can’t even flap them enough to let me hover. And I’m in the middle of a changeling reunion, surrounded by giants that can easily step on me or worse,” he sighed in frustration.
His experiences in dealing with size accidents were plentiful. He didn’t worry about his life. Even in this size, he was still a dragon. Even if he were to be stomped on, it wouldn’t hurt him, but it’d probably stuck him somewhere or to something. And he was not willing to risk that happening again. Looking around once more, he made out the large horns of Thorax far away to his right.
He nodded, resolute. If he wanted to solve this problem quickly, he’d need to get to Thorax and do so fast. For a moment he considered braving to cross the room to reach his friend, but then he got a better idea. If he couldn’t fly, why not let others fly for him?
It took the better part of ten minutes, but he managed to capture two fireflies. He grabbed one of their legs each, and with a weak hit from his tail to their bio-luminescent asses, they set off. Clumsily guiding them, Spike had to avoid hitting heads, ears, horns, wings, tails, and magically held objects as they were moved around.
As he approached Thorax’s table, Spike noticed he wasn’t alone. Of course, Pharynx sat next to him, but Ocellus and her family were sitting with them as well. Right as he was about to reach the table, a small her of fireflies flew before his path. His two unwilling transportation lightbulbs shook him off, preferring to follow their brethren than aid him.
Ungrateful little things.
“GAAAAHHHHHH!” Spike screamed as he fell. With a few weak flaps from his wings, he managed to grasp the edge of the table, his claws sinking to the stone and scratching down as his fall was slowed and eventually stopped. Letting out a sigh of relief, he climbed the table’s edge thanks to his sharp, powerful claws. He easily made it to the top of the table. Looking up, he saw he was directly in front of Thorax. “Thorax! Hey, Thorax! Anyling!? Pharynx! Ocellus! HEEEEEY! Can anyling hear me!?”
He shouted as loudly as he could; waving and flagging his arms widely to try and get their attention. But nothing worked. They either couldn’t hear him or had yet to recognize him. Probably both. “I’m gonna have to make my way to his snout, don’t I?” He said in a defeated tone.
Moving as quickly as possible, Spike ran across the table, still waving his arms and shouting Thorax’s name just in case he turned his gaze to him. “Whoa!” He exclaimed as he avoided one of the babies’ cup as it slammed it on the table. He could feel the entire table shake, slightly throwing him off-balance. He avoided two platters, another cup, and a hoof of a baby as it tried to squish him, thinking of him as a little insect to nom.
When he made it to Thorax’s spot, whatever elation he felt was gone in an instant as he saw a chef changeling lower a platter before Thorax. Grumbling, he jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding being stuck below a heavy stone plate full of food. Ocellus, being the kind soul that she was, offered some sort of yellow paste to Thorax. The King of the Love Bugs raised a bun that covered his meal: a tasty cricket and beetle burger. Just as Ocellus was about to pour some of the paste on it, it fell from her hooves. Acting quickly, she reached a hood to the table, slamming her entire leg across it to save the paste.
Far too strongly for Spike to withstand. “Woaha-hahaha-HAAAA!” He screamed as the gust of wind was more than strong enough to not only push him back, but also lift him off his feet. His back crashed against the edge of the platter, chipping it but sending him barreling in the air until he landed on something soft and squishy. He had barely enough time to register; he was in Thorax’s burger when Ocellus poured the yellow paste on it, shortly followed by the bun.
“I am officially so done with this day,” Spike groaned as he desperately tried to squirm away, but the paste was too sticky and the bun pressed him down. Strong as a dragon was, if he couldn’t move, his strength meant nothing. He suddenly heard a crunch and a tear; followed a moment later by freedom. And a realization.
“Seriously!?” He screamed angrily and he moved up and down. He crossed his arms while saliva and Thorax’s tongue cleaned him from the paste (some kind of condiment, he deduced as he licked some of it). He watched his bite being destroyed by his teeth, chomping happily and greedily at the burger. Worst of all, he couldn’t move. Not because he couldn’t but if he moved and Thorax bit him, his friend would lose a few teeth. So, he waited for a chance to escape the confines of his warm, moist, food-filled red-colored cavernous eating orifice.
He held onto a tooth as he swallowed his first mouthful of munched, mushy, and mixed burger. With a smile, Spike made a rush for the exit as Thorax opened his mouth again. There it was! His escape! He could almost smell it! Or… or was that the smell or a burp incoming?
Sadly for Spike, it was. The mouth closed up in a flash, and a contained burp echoed inside the fleshy cavern. Strong enough that, mixed with his slippery tongue and the natural wetness of his mouth, meant that Spike stumbled. Desperately clinging to his tongue, he made a mistake. He squeezed too tightly and his claws lightly pierced his skin. Not enough to cause him pain or draw blood, but it would cause him discomfort.
A discomfort that his friend decided to quench with a mouthful of juice.
“...” Spike could only stare at the purple juice flowing down until it hit him. There was no use in fighting it. There was nothing he could do to remain secure without hurting Thorax terribly. Letting go of his tongue, Spike allowed himself to be swallowed down his friend’s gullet. To call it a tight fit would be an understatement. While he was big enough, thankfully, to clog his throat, he was still big enough to cause some discomfort through his passing. But, with the aid of more juice, pass he did.
“Uuuhnnff!” He exclaimed as his turbulent ride came to an end with him landing in a pond of acidic juices. He could see the small bits of the previously ingested bite of burger floating around, slowly fizzling as they were torn apart by the acid. Spike sniffed and sighed. “Well, at least it smells better than a sulfur vein,” he said before swimming to a more shallow area where he could sit and wait. “After Twilight and Fluttershy I really thought I wouldn’t be in this position again,” he said to himself with a mix of annoyance and tiredness.
He knew he had nothing to worry about. Gastrointestinal acid couldn’t do anything to him. He swam on Luna damned molten lava for pony’s sake! And if not even alicorn-grade acid could harm him, then what was the point of worrying. He heard a sliding sound accompanied by gurgling and rumbling moments before another mouthful of half-munched burger fell on the pool of acid. Shrugging and with nothing better to do, he tore a handful of meat, lettuce, and a crispy beetle leg that was untouched by the acid and began eating it.
He moaned as he smiled. “Oooohh! I must ask that chef for the recipe! This thing is delicious!” He praised as he ate his improvised dinner. As he ate, more and more bite of the burger, followed by small golden eggs, some grapes, and a few other random things and, of course, more juice. It got to the point that he had to move back twice as the acid pool was bloated to accommodate all the food that Thorax consumed.
A minute or so after the food stopped falling into his friend’s stomach, Spike felt a sudden jump. Then, he felt a rumble and finally a constant, steady, gentle sway that rocked him and the pool softly as it dissolved the food. Letting out a sigh, he allowed the acid to cover most of his body, leaving only his head above the surface.
“Sorry, buddy, but I am not going to wait and find out how to use the ‘rear exit’, and I surely don’t want to harm you,” he said solemnly as he gently caressed he slimy, warm, squishy stomach wall.
He could easily cut his way out, but that was an option he would never consider. So, defeated, he decided to wait. Whilst stomach acid couldn’t do anything to him, there was something about the nature of dragons’ scales that was ill-suiting for consumption and digestion. Something that made his presence… revolting. Nauseating, even. He found that out during his previous incidents where he, stupidly, ended in this same situation.
It wouldn’t be comfortable. Far from it. But it was far better than option B.
All he had to do now, was merely wait for the kick to come.
“Dinner is going to be so awkward,” he sighed heavily.
The end.
