symbiosis | sɪm.baɪ̯ˈoʊ̯.sɪs | noun, biology
A relationship of mutual benefit, especially among different species.

Days and weeks of constant rumbling, clacking, and thumping eventually blended into one another for me. I typed out another short line – comparative degree of many: in greater number – or at least, that’s what I thought I typed. As soon as I yanked the lever to spit the slug out of the Wondertype, Lorem quickly scanned the slug for any mistakes.

He, of course, found one. “Extra E in degree,” he told me. He held it up for me – even I knew it wasn’t spelled degreee.

I groaned. “My bad.” I started retyping the line, this time paying attention to the number of times I pressed the e key. Out of my sight, I heard the old slug being tossed in the discard bin, to be melted down and the metal reused the following day.

Usually I wouldn’t be this egregious, not with my years of experience, but in my defense, I was getting very worn-down. But I knew I couldn’t complain, because one look from behind the Wondertype machine at which I sat told me that my colleagues were just as weary as I was.

My brother, Lorem Ipsum, had bloodshot eyes trying to catch every single typo before it went into the press. Speaking of the press, Foolscap Folio, my big brute of a partner who actually printed the type onto paper, even seemed exhausted running thousands of signatures in a day. And my apprentice, Minion Fleuron, seemed a bit more joyless than usual, frantically sifting through cases of ornamental type – though, bless her heart, she still had the vim to be concerned about me.

“Wasn’t that the seventh time you mistyped that?” she asked me.

Embarrassingly, it was. And I knew I couldn’t be this sloppy, not when it cost us that much time. Sure, discarding and retyping a line took a few seconds, but we were feeling the crunch of a particularly-important deadline looming over us. Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, had commissioned my little print shop in Ponyville to print a new dictionary – an extremely large one, covering not just every word of our considerable lexicon, but include also their etymologies from our language to Gryphish, Dragontongue, Old Ponish, and even the more exotic sources like Yakut and Middle Hippogryph. It was also supposed to contain a basic grammar guide, weights and measures, maps of Equestria, and other little niceties that made it more like a general reference book than a mere dictionary.

Oh, and she wanted it completed as soon as possible. Perhaps she was compensating for something? Or perhaps she found every other dictionary lacking in some way – which, I suppose, explained such specific and elaborate requirements on her part.

We’ve typeset books before, books of every genre you can imagine – but a dictionary was a genuine trial for us. I first made sure to give the Wondertype a once-over, as a single breakdown would threaten to put us behind schedule; Foolscap oiled the press every morning so it would operate smoothly; Minion got here early each morning to set up the Wondertype for me so I wouldn’t waste any time doing it myself; and I even had to call Lorem in from Canterlot to help us pull it off. (Usually, reading Wondertype slugs is Minion’s job, in addition to setting type decoration manually.)

“Uh, Etaoin? You okay, bro?” I felt someone nudging on my left shoulder. I turned and saw my brother looking down on me. “You zoned out again, dude. Time for a break?”

I read the room, but my eyes only landed on the calendar. We were only halfway done – I was typesetting one definition for more – and we only had just under a month left. “Much as I’d love to,” I told him, “I’m afraid I can’t spare that much time.”

“Then maybe it’s time you let Minion on the Wondertype.” He gestured to the lone mare in the shop. “I know you couldn’t exactly overhear, but she’s itching to pound out a few signatures herself, especially since you can’t quite keep up.”

I sighed. It was something I’ve been trying to deny to myself just so I can get it ready in time, but I suppose push came to shove at that moment. “Alright Minion, you can have a go at it.”

As soon as I got up, I felt Minion’s legs slip right under me as she promptly occupied my spot. “Thank you, Sir!” As I watched, she started hitting out slug after slug, and if Lorem was to be believed, she wasn’t making one mistake either. On one hand, I was proud of her for finally blossoming into a proper typesetter like myself, but on the other – I now felt useless. Outmoded.

“Hey now.” Lorem looked up from the last slug. “I know that look on your face. You’re worn out, but you don’t like to admit it.” Doffing his reading glasses, he motioned for Minion to pause. “You’ve always pushed yourself to get the job done as soon as possible, but you’re not a machine, Etaoin. You should stop for the day, really.”

“But that would mean – ”

“Not time wasted.” With a hand on my shoulder, he started leading me to the door. “Even an axe needs to be sharpened.” Then he got that look on his face as if something struck him. “Say,” he asked, “doesn’t Ponyville have a spa in town?”

“It does,” I answered, “but – ”

“Then it’s settled.” He pushed me through the doorway. “Go have a day there. You’ve certainly earned it. We can handle the deadline just fine, please don’t worry about us.”

I will admit this wasn’t the first time he’d suggested something like this. I always have a habit of pushing myself too hard and burning out early. What? I don’t want to come off as lazy! I pride myself on getting things done on time! But it seems my brother was right this time. After retyping the seven line seven times, maybe this job was finally getting the better of me. “Alright Lorem,” I finally conceded, “you have the shop.”

He nodded. “I knew you’d come around eventually. Have a good one!”

As I undid my own apron, I started hearing a slow but steady thumping, and I knew Foolscap was working the press on another batch of signatures. In truth, I was glad to leave, because that thumping was bound to distract me, make me make more typos, and force us all further behind schedule.

⁂

Ponyville in late spring always seems relatively calm, especially at this time of day, after the lunch rush. I knew my way to the Spa, but I didn’t usually head there – the last time I did, the steam room had a leaky pipe, and them laundering towels to tide us over only made the problem worse.

I swatted a fly out of my face, and rounded another corner. I figured I may as well take the path of least resistance to the Spa, and that meant cutting through the park. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and trudged forward. Already the fresh spring air seemed to jolt me awake, in a way working at the Wondertype never could.

Ah, I’m just waxing poëtic here, aren’t I?

Along the way I saw several other residents of Ponyville, and a few visitors. We’ve been seeing more and more of them in recent years, from further and further away – no doubt with Princess Twilight Sparkle and the other Elements of Harmony being the big draw – but many of them I had met over the years. Just by letting my eyes drift, I spotted Lyra Heartstrings reclined across a park bench, soaking up the afternoon sun. Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch were chatting about the latest in music trends, both classical and modern – the former lived in Canterlot, but regularly came to Ponyville to visit her marefriend, to the point where we thought of her as a resident.

Then there was Roseluck. I found her working on the park’s landscaping – a rare sight to see her outside of her flower shop. I would have waved to her, but I knew she was a bit skittish even around other Ponyville residents. Even so, seeing her happily working always put a smile on my face.

Besides, she couldn’t have seen me wave anyway. She was facing away from me, tending to a flowerbed, on her hands and knees, the waist of her jeans tugged down somewhat with thong straps peeking out around her hips and between her cheeks –

Out of nowhere, I sneezed.

Naturally, she looked up and saw me. I (hopefully) looked away just in time. “Out of the print shop for once, I see,” she commented.

Huh, that’s a first for her. “My brother kicked me out,” I said. “Said I was working myself too hard. I’m heading to the Spa – ” Ooh, here’s an idea! – “if you’d like to join me.” Please say ‘yes’ please say ‘yes’ please say ‘yes’. . . .

“Sorry, not today.” She gestured to several shrubs. “Much as I’d love to, I’m afraid Mayor Mare wants me to fill in for Cloud Tree today. Sick day, apparently.” She wiped some sweat off her brow. “So. . . maybe another time?”

“Yeah. . . maybe.” Better luck next time, I guess. “See you then.” I turned and left her, lest I drag it out any further than it needed to be.

Thankfully the Ponyville Day Spa was just up ahead from there. It didn’t seem particularly busy at the moment, so naturally one of the Spa Twins – Aloe, in this case – looked up from the front desk when I opened the door. (I suppose the tinkling of the bell helped her.) “Ah, hello Etaoin!” she greeted. “Back again, I see? It has been a while.”

“You could say that.” I sighed. “It’s been a rough time at the shop for me; I’ve noticed I’m starting to mix up my lines a lot today.” I stretched, arching my back. “Don’t suppose you know a thing or two to fix that? I’d rather not fall behind schedule.”

“You certainly looked tired yourself.” She smiled. “Don’t you worry, we know how to fix all of that.” She gestured to some curtains on the right. “Just step inside one of the changing rooms. We’ll see you in the bathhouse first.”

A brief stay in a hot, steamy room was not exactly what I was looking forward to hot out the shop, but at least I wouldn’t have any stuffy clothes to trap the heat in. As I was undoing my pants, I thought I heard a puff of something down the hall. Was that the steam pipes? No, I determined, it wouldn’t just stop randomly. I let my pants drop onto the floor and continued undressing. I reëmerged a minute later, towel around my waist for modesty, my usual clothes folded up and stowed in a locker. The bathhouse wasn’t hard to find – down the hall, on the right, basically just follow the steam pipes.

I mean, sure, I could have used the signs, but I never could stand the pretentious lettering on those.

I opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind me to keep the steam inside. It was dark here – good for resting my eyes for a moment – not to mention very damp and pleasantly warm. It penetrated the burning in my muscles, yet it soothed me at the same time. I took a seat on one of the wooden benches along the far wall, not really paying attention to whom else might be in here with me.

In a moment I regretted my choice. Sliding up to my left was this wall of flesh, black and thick and warmer than the rest of my surroundings. I looked up and my heart sank – I was looking straight into the eyes of Queen Chrysalis, ruler of the Changeling Hive. Unlike myself, she was clad in a very-ill-fitting bikini that looked ready to snap off without warning, and her eyes held a very hungry gaze. I immediately looked to the bathhouse’s exit, but a green glow on the door clicked the lock shut, ensuring I was well and truly trapped in here with her.

Sliding up to my left, in the meantime, was another changeling, just as large and engorged with love as her Queen, but wrapped in a towel across her chest and hips. She too looked down upon me, with much the same gaze as Chrysalis did. “Hey there,” she purred in a seductive voice – appropriate for her, but it only made my fears set in further. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“. . . E-Etaoin Shrdlu,” I eventually stammered out. That probably wasn’t a good idea, I immediately thought. They have my name, now it’s just a matter of time before –

The other changeling smiled. “Right, one of the printers in town,” she reckoned. “You can call me Vardi – and I trust my companion here needs no introduction of her own.”

“So. . . .” Chrysalis traced her finger across my chest. “You’ve seen how empty this bathhouse is. What exactly made you go out of your way to sit with us?”

“Well, I. . . .” Of course I knew why, and I suspected they knew as well. But I just wasn’t willing to admit it. Why should I? It’s embarrassing! How do I get myself out of this question? “I really can’t say.” Weaksauce, but it’s better than nothing. Probably.

“I could probably guess,” Vardi offered. “Simple curiosity? After all, we changelings are a little hard to find ‘in the wild,’ so to say.”

“Erm, yeah. I guess you could say that.” I tried getting up, to put some space between myself and these two. Maybe I really should’ve sat on the other side after all.

“Still afraid of us, even after that failed invasion?” Chrysalis’s horn flared green. “No, that’s not it. Curiosity, yes, you were on the right path, Vardi.” She nodded. “But there’s something more to it, something. . . shameful. And longing as well.” Wait, is she seriously reading my mind!? I quickly bolted from the bench. The changeling queen kept her gaze on me the whole time. “Oh, now you’re panicking. What’s the matter, dear? You clearly didn’t have any shame when you sat down with us. Why the change?”

This time I truly was at a loss for words – not even a squeak from my throat. She’s got me dead for rights. What does she have in store for me?

She giggled. “It’s quite alright, we don’t mind in the least.” She patted the spot between them. “Come back over here.”

Reluctantly, I slid himself back onto the bench, and suddenly felt myself get sandwiched between the two changelings. Against my better judgment, I will admit that I couldn’t help noting just how squishy and soft their bodies felt against mine.

“It’s some part about us, isn’t it?” Vardi mused. “Maybe. . . it’s the way we can change our appearance on a whim?” Green flames flared up from beneath her. So that’s what I heard in the changing stall! In a moment, in her place sat Applejack, who winked at me with her tongue stuck out. Another flash of green, and Vardi returned into view, with the exact same facial expression.

I ran my arm across my side to make sure she didn’t burn me. To my surprise, my skin wasn’t even singed – neither were the wood planks on the bench, for that matter.

But she wasn’t done. “Maybe it’s the way we look naturally?” She ran her hands across her pit-riddled arms. “Once upon a time, you could see all the way through our limbs. But with so much love in Equestria, we couldn’t help but fill them in.”

“Or – and hear me out on this – ” Chrysalis seized her breasts in her hands, giving them a firm squeeze and a jiggle – “you saw these big, fat, heaving tits and decided you just had to get closer to them.”

That did it – that got a strong reaction out of me. I could feel my cheeks flush red, and I promptly pointed my gaze down on the floor – it didn’t help that Chrysalis was shaking her ‘big, fat, heaving tits’ right in my face. Shit, they know, they know, this is bad, this is –

“Aha, there it is.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “You just like what you see, don’t you, sweetie?” She put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer into her massive rack. Her tail did the same, cradling my hips against hers. “You like how pillow-soft and warm they are. You like how they jiggle about just so. And if you put your ear up to them?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned into my ear. “You might even hear milk sloshing around inside, begging to be let out.”

Even if she didn’t realize it, and I had good cause to believe she did, Chrysalis was pushing every single one of my buttons. I was always enamored by larger mares, even when I was a young colt. Just the way they towered over me should make me afraid, but their softer features had the opposite effect on me: I felt safe being around them. Safe, warm, and snug against their. . . shall I say, plushness, like a teddy bear, only much larger than me and able to talk back.

And when I hit puberty, as everypony eventually does, my body was being flooded with more hormones than I knew what to do with them. At the same time, I watched all my filly friends start growing and developing into mares – large breasts, wide hips, thick thighs, well-cushioned rears – more and more their bodies were optimized for foalbearing. Not to mention they also grew to be taller than me at the onset. But that last bit was not to last – eventually I outgrew them in turn.

Still, it didn’t stop me from fantasizing about what life would be like for me if that never happened. That, in turn, got the gears turning in my head. What if they never stopped growing and developing? What if they had boobs bigger than their heads? Hips wider than their shoulders, with thighs and butts to match? Alas, I was far too shy to act on these impulses; I felt too embarrassed even to admit it to anypony – so naturally, I kept that secret under lock and key. I was grateful that I had gotten my cutie mark in typesetting – having to focus on using a Wondertype machine somehow worked to help me beat down those base urges of mine.

“And if I may add?” Vardi’s voive pulled me out of my reverie. The queen nodded to her companion. “We changelings subsist entirely on love. That’s not a rumor, either. And your love hits the spot just right. . . mmmh.”

As she spoke, she leaned into me, giving me an eyeful of her bountiful cleavage. And as she leaned in, I couldn’t help but notice that valley of cleavage getting longer and longer, almost as if – ! No. No way!

“Yep.” Vardi winked. “We’re feeding off of you right now. And all that love has to go somewhere. . . so why not put it someplace you’d love?” She pressed her enlarging chest into mine, squishing it to jut her cleavage further out of her towel. “We can keep growing, and growing, and growing. We can grow as big as you’d like. And all you have to do is keep loving us.”

“And that’s not very hard to do, isn’t it?” Chrysalis shifted me around, so I was facing Vardi and could nestle back into her cleavage – which now seemed much deeper than before. Didn’t her bikini top cover her entire areola at one point? “No need to hide it anymore, sweetie,” she purred into my ear. “You love big, growing mares. You love how much bigger we are than you. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually enjoying us coaxing you out of your shell, indulging you in your repressed fetishes, maybe even showing you a few you didn’t know you even wanted.” She leaned forward towards his ear. “And that’s okay.”

“Looks like we’re not the only ones growing here.”

I looked down. My penis, which had started hardening somewhat when I first entered the bathhouse, was now rising up to point at Vardi through my towel. Reflexively, my hands darted to push it down, and I pressed my thighs together to keep it out of sight. “S-sorry, sorry!” Skies above, why did this have to be so shameful? . . .

“Aw, don’t beat yourself up.” Chrysalis kissed me atop my head, sending a shiver down my spine. “Like I said, we don’t mind at all. In fact, we like swelling up ourselves, smothering our prey in plush, warm curves, rewarding them for feeding us so much love.” She ran her hands up and down along the sides of my torso.

“After all,” Vardi added, “you want to put your hands all over us, don’t you? Feel them sink into our supple flesh, only to get pushed back as we swell up even bigger than before?”

At this I dared to take my hand away from my crotch – but didn’t move my thighs – just so I could feel her lap, her much softer, broader lap. Come to think of it, Vardi’s posture also seems a little higher than before. . . .

“Oh yes,” she purred. “We can make any part of ourselves grow. We can be tall enough to hit our heads on the ceiling. We can have thighs thicker around than your torso. We can have hips wider than you are tall. We can have booties so fat you can ride around between the cheeks, swaying to and fro as we walk.” As she spoke, she kept swelling up bigger and bigger, eagerly taking on more and more of my lust. Beneath her, I could hear the wooden planks creaking, taking on more and more of her increasing weight. “Or maybe something else? We don’t judge.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be frightened or excited at the fact that they were completely right. I did want these things; I did want to be squished up safe and sound against a growing mare; it made me feel so safe and warm and loved. Curse you, puberty, for making me grow like a weed! I don’t want to be big and strong all the time, you see.

A shame, then, that mares built the way I like are few and far between.

But here? Now? I could actually be honest with them. Changelings are many things, and can become many more, but close-minded is certainly not one of them. After all, since they fed on love, as Vardi pointed out, they could shape themselves precisely to get as much as possible out of someone. I must concede I’m all too perfect for them – they could take my love, pack it onto themselves, and create a feedback loop of love and bulk, potentially ad infinitum.

“Careful, dude.” Vardi reached her arms up and back, projecting her swelling mammaries forward into my crotch. “If you keep feeding me so much, I’m only going to outgrow this flimsy little towel.” Even I could sense the fabric straining against her increasing bulk.

That only made my own swelling worse – right now, my unmentionables were paining me from being sealed away between my legs. I looked up and saw that she was right – the towel was now stretched tightly against her curves, and raised up enough that I could see she was going commando underneath. Probably, if I had to guess, because she had to improvise with something in the Spa.

A loud snap! behind me alerted me to the fact that Chrysalis’s bikini top finally gave up the ghost. A moment later, a more muted snap told me that her bottoms did the same. As much as I wanted to look behind myself, as tantalizing as the thought of looking upon the nude Queen was. . . something still held me back.

Meanwhile, Vardi’s towel started ripping – starting at the bottom of her bust. “Your Majesty,” she asked, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She grabbed her tits and gave them a playful shake for me, and this time I couldn’t take my eyes off. How could I? They were positively enormous, the absolute largest I had ever laid eyes on, and to think they weren’t even done growing yet. . . !

“I’m sure our guest is up to the occasion,” she replied. “Aren’t you?” A green shimmer descended upon my waist, and in an instant my towel was undone. Then her hands moved down to my thighs, parting them just enough to make. . . well, it spring back out into the open air. “What do you say – ever fucked a pair of tits bigger than your own head?”

This was it. This was the exact moment I’ve been dreaming about for years – and even if the settings and characters didn’t quite line up with my fantasies, I would be a fool to turn down such a generous offer. I leaned up just enough to catch sight of her breasts, still swelling up ever-larger, still straining against that towel. “C-can I?” I asked, my own voice betraying my nerves. Slowly, still with a tremor, I reached my hand out to Vardi.

And in that moment, the worst possible thing that could happen happened: somepony knocked on the bathhouse door. “Etaoin? Are you stuck inside?” I recognized Aloe’s voice; she must’ve noticed me take a little too long in the steam. “The door seems to be locked.”

As soon as I heard keys jingling, we three exchanged glances. Unspoken, we swiftly rushed to cover our tracks. I redonned my towel. Behind me, two green flashes ensured the two changelings were no longer inside – or at least in sight. I sat down, crossing my legs to hide my erection. “Oh, uh, sorry,” I feigned, “lost track of time in here!” Which, all things considered, isn’t entirely untrue. . . .

The lock’s bolt moved, and the door opened. Aloe’s pink head poked inside. “I hope you’re ready for the next part of your treatment,” she said. “The massage room is this way, Mr. Shrdlu. . . .”

Author's Note

So here it is: my first clopfic in about seven years.

Published today for my twenty-sixth birthday. Chapter updates will occur daily until complete; story notes will be published in parallel with the final chapter.

I realize something like this isn't everyone's cup of tea, so just downvote it (and unfollow me, if applicable) and get on with your life if that makes you feel any better. If, on the other hand, you're just now following me for more of this, it's not becoming a regular thing -- so please don't bother.

One of these days, I'll come to regret writing this. I'm sure of it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be distracting myself with Atomic Heart.