Nature and Nurture

by questionmark

Rating: teen
Tags: Death, Human, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Changelings
Length: 10383

A human reborn as a Changeling must navigate their new reality.

Somehow, I have died. At least, that's as much as I can assume with my human form left behind, and with my new form inhabited.

I'm not quite sure just yet what I can do about that, or what I'm supposed to do about that. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Published 2024-04-14 17:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-05-11 18:39:54 UTC

CH1: Awakening

Perhaps I passed from my human form in my sleep, ripped out of my vessel by some manner of gas leak or explosion. Perhaps jokes I myself had partaken in had retroactively became foreshadowing as a truck turned my body into a cloud of viscera, leaving no trace of my now discarded body. Maybe I had been knifed or shot, maybe I tripped and snapped my neck or busted my head open, maybe some disease ran through my body silently and made quick work of my organs- whether conscious or asleep, whether it had been peaceful or bloody, whether it had been an inevitability or avoidable, on this night the human me died, unaware, and the Changeling me was born, in a quite literal sense.

I found myself entombed in green, filled with a newfound instinct to move a body currently unfamiliar to the conscious me, a body that some physical part of me now understood as my own, not in thoughts I could cling to but in automated action. I kicked my feet- hooves, now, and more numerous than I last recalled- out, breaking through the cocoon surrounding me before I process what I was doing, before I could ask myself why I was doing this. I slipped out in a cascade of goo onto the grass below me, my mind in fragments splintering apart. The fleeting, rapidly floating away human portion of me was absolutely gobsmacked by every single physical sensation that was assaulting my new highly sensitive body, while some animal impulse forced itself to the forefront of my mind, heedless of any confusion and focused on my continued fresh survival. This was my body, and much like any equine I had known in my life as a homo sapien, I was ready to stand and walk moments after "birth", which my mind distantly decided this must have been. It was some sort of sloppy wet beginning- if that wasn't birth, what was? I flexed my hooves, investigating the strange appendages and how comfortable I felt within them, my brain very slowly catching up with my already active form.

I was stark black where the green goo was slipping off of whatever hard material I was made of. I tapped what would have been my wrist if I were human to test the material, and my aim, for that matter, momentarily enamored by how I could well hold myself up on just my hind legs while manipulating my front hooves into the air, listening to the little 'ting, ting' of something thin and brittle. I was strong enough to be walking around on four legs, but not as sturdy as I imagined an equine ought to be- I felt a bit vulnerable, like a good healthy smack might make me splatter instead of thud- a rather upsetting mental image to procure. I was decidedly bug-like in nature, I surmised, further analyzing the holes that dotted my limbs which no other organic creature would likely have, leaving me with no room inside these limbs to have bones. That taxonomy would also explain why my birth left me with no mother. I checked back at the location of my emergence just to ensure I had not missed any creature who might have brought me into this world, and sure enough, there was only a thin green husk hanging from a tree, cracked open and leaking some remnants of green ooze. I was standing in a puddle of it, I only realized after setting my hoof back down, and drew it back up in momentary decidedly human disgust. The split in my mind deepened- how was I to be disgusted from what was only natural? In such a strange situation, I could not partake in the luxury of disgust and wariness. I had to investigate, I had to get a grip on what I had found myself lost in.

I sniffed my hoof, startled by some sort of... sensation it exuded. It was something like a smell, in the sense that an organ parsed some sort of stimuli it radiated, and it was very reminiscent of fragrance in how floaty it was, how it settled into the brain as pleasant, but I figured it could not literally be a smell, I could not connect it to anything I had formerly taken a whiff of. It was simply something extra, a sixth sense employed to tell me that this might be delicious. I nearly unconsciously clocked that I was not hungry- I felt much more in tune with the exactness of how full my stomach was and how energized my body was, reflecting that, compared to my former existence quantifying myself only as 'hungry' or 'full'- but I still felt the need to lick my hoof, experimentally at first, to confirm my suspicions.

Much like how interpreting the "feeling" of this substance was past smell, consuming it was past taste. I was once more at a loss for words on how to connect the experience of lapping at it to anything I had in the past ingested. It barely pinged anything within my mouth, but deep in my core I felt immense pleasure and a yawning desire for more, something like an artificial zing of serotonin. The human portion of me was pushed further and further from my mind and I leaned down and began taking in mouthfuls of the unfortunately scant semi-liquid. While a human would never stoop so low as to lick at dirty grass, I found myself uncaring given the scenario. There was no one here to judge me, as far as I knew, and any thought of sickness that I might pick up from the ground was thrown out the window given how unfamiliar my new form was. Hell, I was some sort of equine, as far as I could tell from context clues, despite the coloration and bug-like nature, so snuffling around in the grass was expected of me. In moments the grass was pristine, licked clean of any strange green slime. The only remnant of my birth was me and the cocoon... I considered it for a moment before leaning in, sniffing it to ensure it had the same "sense" that the goo did, then took a bite after I had confirmed that was the case. The "taste" was a bit less potent, thick with some sort of "filler"- I imagined it must be like what eating wood would be like, if I had to guess, though the impossibility of connecting these sensations were not lost on me.

Once I had finished my first meal, I took the time to actually lock in and focus on my surroundings. I was under some sort of large tree, and as far as I could tell, I was within a thick, dark forest. It was a bright sunny day despite the canopy above blocking some of the light, allowing me to see my surroundings well despite the pockets of darkness surrounding me where the layers of leaves fully obfuscated the sky. There were some bright green orbs exuding, vaguely, the "smell" I so hungered for, and the longer I considered them, the hungrier I felt; however, they were too high for me to consider grabbing. Actually, the silliest thought floated into my mind; couldn't I fly up and get them? My head whipped around to my back, expecting in my conscious mind to see a smooth back, but just barely in vision were two thin, transparent, hole filled wings. I really shouldn't be so surprised by how increasingly strange my body had become. I flapped them experimentally, actively pushing away my human thoughts about how hole-y wings could not lift my form no matter my lack of bones, yet when I kicked them into gear, I found myself flittering upwards with a buzz. The rapturous wonder of first flight ripped through me, and I found myself smiling, feeling so strange with my new long mouth, with my new sharp teeth. Still, somehow, it felt only natural- of course I could fly like this. I ascended to the level of the orbs, reaching out before stopping dead in my tracks. I felt some sort of valley of dread make itself known at the thought of scooping these things off their branches, regardless of how much I consciously wanted to consume them. Unsettled by this instinctual warning, I let myself float downwards back to Earth (if I could call it that!), pawing at the ground beneath me almost sheepishly.

Aside from eat, what was I supposed to be doing? Eating seemed like the only thing that made sense, though some part of me understood now what I could not eat. The still lingering human part of me wondered if there were others like me out there, and if I ought to try and find them. Perhaps then I could explain my ordeal to them- if I could still speak, if I could automatically understand them!- and they would help me, or at least set me on some sort of path. The part of me that instinctively understood what was happening, what I was, was further unsettled by the thought. Some distant, tiny part of me knew I could not be seen, that the populace of this land would not help me, though I could not argue with this train of thought given the current lack of evidence. I settled, then, on digging a small me-sized divet into the dirt in front of this tree and curling up within it. I would just wait. If someone found me, that would inform my next decisions, but first I must be found, and all I could do until then was submit to unconsciousness uneasily.

CH2: First Contact

Author's Note

This chapter features uncharacteristic violence and death. This will not be standard for the fic as far as I can imagine.

CH2: First Contact

Quite obviously, I’m not exactly sure how long I was asleep at the foot of that tree. When I awoke next, it was just as bright as it had been when I slept, the sun held high in the middle of the sky and filtered through the canopy in little shattered pieces. Just as I had felt more in tune with the exact capacity by which my stomach was filled- slightly less now that I had rested, for that matter- it felt as if I could quantify my exhaustion directly, as if it were some sort of gauge I could reference and read easily. In the same way I must have naturally kept myself upright as a human and knew to breath in and out at even intervals, I could simply tap into this reservoir of knowledge naturally.

These changes had yet to fully settle into the human part of my brain; if I were truly present, I would almost certainly be more confused, more inquisitive, more afraid, but what was fear worth at this current moment? I was in uncharted land in an unfamiliar body; as I had decided yesterday, fear was a luxury I could no longer partake in. What would fear do for me? As far as I knew, there was no way to return to my human body, much less home. I had to remain collected, to not be ungrateful for whatever grip I could get on this slippery situation, so I accepted these new sensations readily.

What had compelled me to wake up after what could have well been multiple days asleep? My ear twitched as I started to analyze my surroundings, hearing the telltale trodding and snapping sound of a creature traipsing through the thick woods around us, and my mouth opened unintentionally as my brain was flooded with that delightful “smell” I had sensed from the liquid before, thick in the air and beckoning me to action. Something was running about, and it must have been just as delicious as the goo I’d consumed greedily. If I were more human, I might have hesitated and reconsidered my next course of action, but the remnants of that life were leaving me quickly, especially with the encouragement of this meal like a carrot on a stick in front of a mountable animal (could I make comparisons like that when I was in this form?).

I stood quickly and ran a few paces into the dark forest surrounding the little area I now considered home, now covered in darkness sans little spots of light that barely made my form visible. My lanky dark figure must have fit in with the surrounding trees. If I were to extract the taste I so desired from whatever was around the corner, I figured I must need to sneak up on it, and I stopped before I got too close. Whatever it was, my ears could pick up that it was getting nearer. The time spent waiting allowed my eyes to become acclimated to the dark as I stood stock still in anticipation.

In mere moments, I could finally see what was producing the noise, what manner of creature populated this strange new Earth I had found myself trapped in. It was quite easy to spot in contrast to the darkness and muddy colors I had become familiar with, given it was a bright gaudy pink color across its soft body, topped with pale hair and tail. It shared the same body plan as me, some sort of equine, though its curves and features remained a bit alien, at least compared to the gangly tall horses I once knew and even compared to my chitinous form. Its hooves belled out towards the bottom and its muzzle had an almost pug-like slant to it, and I considered if it must be a bug like me given how huge its gleaming eyes were, which were focused on a butterfly flittering in arcs before it. It was a touch smaller than me, though I had no idea what that meant relative to the populace at large given I hadn’t seen a sample size large enough to generalize yet- I figured this behavior, though, chasing butterflies, was decidedly childish. Perhaps the large eyes were a symptom of its youth, then.

Again, if I were more human, I would not have done what then hashed out, but taking the situation realistically, I was a creature in need of subsistence and no longer privileged enough to live in a house with a stocked kitchen full of food that I never needed to consider the source of. In this unknown new environment, if the opportunity to feast presented itself to me, I simply had to pursue it, lest I miss out on a meal that might be crucial to my continued survival, which still vexed me so but nonetheless I felt the need to defend. If I was more present, I might have clocked the separation in my mind as dissociation, but by definition I simply was not of right mind enough to label it as such if it were the case- or perhaps the magical slipping of dimensions and bodies had a literal physiological toll on me, splitting my mind in two. I could not know at the moment. Regardless, the human part of me disappeared for a moment, and I worked on instinct once more. Vicious, animal instinct.

The young creature (a small horse? A pony?) had lost sight of the butterfly, and only now seemed to realize that it was deep in the woods and visibility was difficult when not pursuing a point of color which, elevated, often caught the light above it. It seemed worried, hesitant, ambling as if unsure, and when it turned from where I had lied in wait, I ran directly towards it, mouth agape, fangs poised, consciously blank on what I could possibly be doing. My body knew better than my mind; the small pony screamed for only a moment, its mouth stretched as wide as my own was in some apparent, silent agony as the extraordinary sense once more flooded my body. I could nearly see it, the pink mist leaving this creature, filling me to the brim and then some. It was past consuming a good meal, better than anything I’d eaten with my homo sapien mouth, and much more euphoric than that. Was this what people talked about when they spoke about the serotonin boosts of sugar, distilled and tenfold? Once again, I had no luxury to consider that; all I knew was that this act, ripping and tearing the glorious “feeling” from this creature was the most rapturous comfort I may have ever felt in either of my lives, as short as the second one current has been.

Eventually, though, the flow became to taper off, much to my chagrin. My body felt as if I needed more, and I was not practiced enough to hold back, either way; I continued with more fervor, feeling in my core that pulling, the sense that my very being was yanking something extra out of this creature, and it began to feel as if this thread was fraying, that tension grew so thick it had to snap eventually. The creature, held in some sort of green aura (was that coming from me?), kicked its legs desperately as its eyes rolled back, its colors losing saturation and its body losing a bit of that noticeable plumpness. Then, drained of energy, it grew still.

I came back into full consciousness, suddenly aware that I had almost certainly killed this thing- this living filled with some youthful whimsy enough so to chase bugs, a creature that must have been sapient enough to feel joy and fear. Dissociation was the best word for what I was going through; I had to separate myself from this, confused and horrified by my actions while my body soothed me, felt this dastardly pleasure in betrayal to my mind. I felt as if I had done the right thing; I felt like a murderer.

I had to investigate the body further, to ensure it was dead, though I could already sense it in that sixth+ sense I was becoming so familiar with. The glorious scent had left its body, and now only the ghost of it lingered on its pale fur. Whatever this wonderful smell was, even once I had gouged all I could out of it, it still permeated through the creature, as if its very flesh was steeped in the stuff. Leaning down, sniffling, I considered that line of thought. I had to get rid of this body somehow. I was an animal now, something with fangs that only seemed right to rip and tear with. I was no longer human, I could not retain my human fear of raw meat as I now no longer had the human privileges of comfort I once had. I dissociated further as I set myself to consume this creature fully.

I returned to my little divet in the ground, rubbing myself against the dirt to try and mop the blood off of my body, most of which had already been shaken off during the process of digging a small hole, shoving the non-edible portions in, and burying it back up (down?). Even as my chitin shined black once more, I still felt dirty. Was this the new normal for me? With no way back home and no one to save me, I could only assume as such. I curled up to sleep, staring up at the little orbs clinging to the branches above me. They had grown substantially, perhaps retroactively informing me that a few good days had passed with how plump they’d become. Once more I felt myself growing hungry as I focused on the little spheres, and had to consciously tear my eyes away from them, sighing as I closed my eyes. My body felt so modular, so separate; it felt like operating a machine, with percent guages to monitor statistics, and with a clinical detachment from my conscious self and the memory of me. Would I get used to this eventually?

If I did, would I be happier for it?

Would it matter?

CH3: Second First Contact

Once more, several days spent unconscious came to pass. The fullness I felt after feeding began to dwindle a rather substantial amount, pulled out of me perhaps more quickly than it ought to for a creature who was doing nothing but sleeping thus remaining completely stationary and inert, not that I could analyze this disparity during my slumber. I again found myself waking when events began to unfold around me, my head snapping up at attention once I heard a sort of crinkling, tearing sound.

In my little burrow on the ground, I stared up at the canopy above me, noticing immediately that what I had originally assumed were little green berries had grown while I slept, each at least as large as the soles of my new feet (hooves? Was it called a frog?) and paler, almost milky in coloration. One, however, had grown to about the size of my head, and had apparently fallen from the tree, splitting open on the ground. Only now did I realize that the orbs were not food, but instead eggs, hopefully of my species.

Whatever depression I had been feeling from my recent horrific crime was extinguished as my human mind overpowered the rest of me, mingling with my natural instincts of protection to my own kind. Humans were social creatures, and I was really not sure how much longer I could have lasted without any positive interactions with anyone I could relate to, being totally alone in the world, isolated and likely in danger from a survivalist point of view. I leap to my feet, eager to see the newly born creature, still working its way through its encasement. It was similar to my own rebirth, though I didn’t recall the cocoon I had squirmed out of being as small or light as this egg, nor did I remember being so damn small.

The creature crawling out of its egg reinforced my belief that I was an insectoid; it’s huge head was similar to an equines though with a more curvaceous snout, its pale back half was grub-like, largely pale but spotted in near black like its face. Its wide eyes were a delightful teal color, and after blinking at me, it turned to its egg and began consuming the remains greedily, just as I had once done with my cocoon. There was very little slime residue, leaving it to tear through and gulp down the husk of its egg; I could taste in the air that delicious “feeling” permeating through the papery shell, though it was rather light and vague. I might have desired a taste for myself, feeling the emptiness in my stomach, but I could only assume this consumption was a necessary or helpful part of the hatching process given my instinct to do about the same. Anyways, the taste had been so pure fresh from the source of a living creature, and this in comparison was stale.

Watching the little bugs first moments, both divided parts of me were endeared heavily; this was another creature of my species, a newborn I must protect, and finally some company for me in this new and strange world. I folded my legs under me to lay beside it, my core warmth with happiness and my mind running wild with thoughts. What had made us different in our creations, had I gone through this and just forgotten? Was this a human being as well, or could it be in the future? If it retained no human memories, might it know more about how we were supposed to act than I did? I wasn’t sure what to hope for, given the situation. In the end, at the current moment, you don't care what its true form is- all you see is a young one in need of protection and care, just like you are.

Once it had left no scraps of its emergence, it turned to me, curious eyes twinkling as it edged closer. I nodded my head to my side, communicating silently that it could come and cuddle up next to me. It curled up beside me, letting out little chirping sounds, apparently comfortable against my chitin and under my transparent wing. I honestly could not recall what gender I had been before this very moment and lacked the knowledge to accurately sex my new form, but I could only assume this was what maternal instinct felt like, looking down at this little plump beast, strange as it was, especially compared to any human child I had ever seen. I felt the impulse to interact, and though I was nervous and my mouth felt unfamiliar to my human mind, I could only experiment with speaking now.

“Hello,” I said waveringly, surprising myself with how my voice reverberated and quivered. The bug cooed and trilled in response, apparently primitive enough that it could not speak as I could just yet.

Realistically, this was a gross, weird alien bug, but I could feel nothing but joy towards it. Ambiently, I could smell traces of that delicious “feeling”, originating from where we both laid. It was curious but not unwelcome; I felt my stomach ever so slowly filling as the newborn murred against me, and I moved my front leg to lay atop the creature, pulling it ever closer, snuggled up against me. I spent a good few moments, eyes closed, allowing myself peaceful rest, sharing this calm moment with my new friend, or perhaps family member. Still, I could not do nothing but lay around all day. I had to pull myself out of this warmth eventually, letting my mind wander to new concerns.

Before, I was acutely aware that my survival was not ensured in this strange new land with me being so unfamiliar with the world and what could be safe or dangerous to me. Now I had to ensure the health of both myself and a newborn critter; regardless of how worth it it would certainly be, it would still be work and something I had to be aware of. I wondered how I would keep this little thing fed- it seemed whatever I had yanked out of that living creature kept me full, and I was unsure how I could share such a feast with the child now under my care. There was also the concern of shelter; at the current moment the weather was inoffensive, but if this new world had analogous seasons to Earth then that might readily change, not to mention there might be creatures I’d only been lucky to miss being hunted by.

As the sun once more began to set, I stood up suddenly, confusing the little creature beside me, moving towards where I had dug a small trench into the dirt. I set myself to digging deeper, figuring this was the best home I could craft on the spot. I had no conscious human experience in digging holes that would not collapse under me, but the large tree I had born off of seemed to stabilize the ground enough that I was not concerned for cave-ins, at least not quite yet. The grub curiously watched as I dug hooffuls of dirt out from under me, spraying debris behind me. I was reminded sourly of digging a grave just a few days ago, but tried to keep my mind off of that, and how I might need to do the same again if only to keep the new life that was my responsibility fed.

In moments my little divet in the ground had evolved into a burrow, a little room only large enough for me to stand in comfortably. I beckoned the grub to get comfortable in the hole with me once more, laying on my side now. It made itself comfortable against my belly, curled up and eyes closed, ready to sleep. I, too, had to let myself slumber, mostly to give myself a break from the swirling thoughts of happiness and concern that assaulted me. These could be problems for me in the future; for now, I was tired, and far too afraid and unsure to make any decisions quite yet.

Author's Note

WHats that about accidentally posting this on the wrong story? i dont know anything about that. youre going crazy.

anyways. no attached image for this one, im very busy with college and work etc etc. take this meme from last week instead

CH4: Preliminary Exploration

I have avoided death for one more sleep, waking up the next day at around sunrise, the light filtering through the canopy casting a dusky warm glow. The little newborn creature that I now felt the need to protect was up and scuffling around, digging little holes into the dirt, likely, as far as I could tell, bored and mimicking my behavior from yesterday. I couldn’t blame the thing; I wish I had any toys to help occupy it and keep it enriched. I wondered how I could possibly raise this baby such that it would live the best life that it possibly could. The odds were stacked against me, but I at least had to try and step up for its sake.

I stood up, stretching my aching chitin, before piping up. “Stay here,” I was not confident that it could understand this order just yet as it stared back at me with big wide shimmering eyes, but I could only hope that it understood the message as I moved to leave our little den. It tried to follow me, pulling itself along with it’s front (and only) spindly legs, but I pushed it back and gestured to the ground, vaguely, reiterating the command to stay. Physically communicating this seemed to help, as it sat still now as I left.

I needed to investigate myself further, as well as this new world I found myself in, motivated by this new life to not just survive but thrive as well. First, I spent a few moments carefully looking over my body. Like a bug, I was composed of several segmented parts, each expanse of near black chitin smooth and markless except for the clean holes poked through them. My midsection was lighter in coloration, with some sort of harder carapace on my back. I thought this body part was intended to protect the wings, but my (hole filled as well) translucent blue wings were atop this shell instead of covered by them. Just out of the corner of my eye while turned to check my body I could see the end of what might be a mane; I checked with a hoof, feeling the... whatever was coming out of the back of my neck. It wasn’t exactly fibrous or soft like hair, while not exactly rigid like chitin, and I did not retain enough insect information to hazard a guess on what the material could be- it seemed like I had a tail I could flick back and forth made of the same stuff, though likely this part of me wasn’t important. My hoof followed the path of this “hair”, eventually hitting an expanse of nothing at my cranium (unfortunately, it appears I am bald) before hitting a horn. I wondered if I was more like a unicorn or a horned beetle. The thought of fantasy unicorns was a bit exciting; maybe I could wield some magic, or had a natural fantastical quality about me. I was not sure how to experiment with that, however, not without someone else here. I sourly recalled the moment when someone else was here; the colorful creature I had killed had become surrounded in some blueish aura and remained stationary and floating despite thrashing around. Perhaps I could...?

I stared at a pebble at my hoof, narrowing my eyes and focusing hard. Miraculously, I could feel something from within me, some sort of power extending outwards and towards the rock; I could feel the force hitting the ground I was staring at, then surrounding the pebble. I raised my eyes, and the pebble followed. Losing concentration with giddiness and promptly dropping the stone, I reared up in an expression of glee and laughed to myself, overjoyed with the full revelation of my new power. As destructive as I was (and I was surely disappointed in myself for my follies), I was a miraculous magical creature! It was so novel, so quaint, despite the circumstances, of course.

Maybe magic wasn’t too crazy a thing for me to have; I already knew I could fly, despite the laws of aerodynamics. Reminded of that, I once more focused on getting off the ground, my wings automatically buzzing in earnest; every time I focused on my wing beats, trying to get a grip on the rhythm, I’d only fumble and drop a length in the air. I seemed to instinctively know what to do, but the conscious knowledge eluded me. I could only fly without thinking too hard about it, and so I turned my attention to the little green eggs on the tree above me.

By my count, there were about two dozen green orbs firmly attached to their branches, each in little bunches. Some were a vibrant green and about the size of my eyes; a handful (hoofful?) were larger and more milky white, just barely transparent green enough that I could see dark shapes within them, though they were hard to parse behind the wavey patterns naturally appearing on their shells. As I now perceived these as children, I no longer felt an extreme hunger or want to consume them; I knew they were full of nutritious substance, but I was very consciously revolted at the thought of harming any (more) life.

Since I was up here anyways, I decided I should get a better look at my surroundings. I flew further upwards, eventually moving to climbing once the canopy became too thick to easily instinctively flitter through, finding it exceptionally easy to cling to branches with the natural hooks of my arms and legs. In mere moments I had breached the foliage and, sitting atop the leaves and covered in the delightful warmth of a sun just risen, could see pretty far in each direction.

To one side, mountains rose from the earth and high into the air, though being so far away I was not able to tell how tall they might be in actuality. They might be small and I might be near; or they might be massive and I’m very close. In all other directions there was nothing but trees; I seemed to be in large forest, both in absolute length and in the size of the flora within it. The tree I made my home in seemed to have stood for at least a hoofful of years, or as much as I could estimate if I were in the human world and these were human analogous trees. There was a nonzero chance that the plants or time itself here was strange.

For a moment I enjoyed sitting there, feeling the warmth seep into my chitin and watching the clouds idly move by before I started to pay attention to the minuscule shapes in my vision. I’d originally thought I was just seeing things, little waverings in my compound eyes, but on further inspection these were real, actualized dark spots in the air. I squinted, though I was far enough away that this did little to help; they were formless little flying specks. Unsure of how far they were and, by proxy, how big they might be, I decided to play it safe. These could easily be large predatory birds who would certainly love an insectoid snack, and I did not want to figure out if that was the case, so I descended once more to be covered by leaves.

I spent a moment waiting for my eyes to adjust to the relative darkness, realizing that remaining up in the treetops could be advantageous while exploring this world further. While visibility further down past the branches was minimal, I found myself intrigued by what I could reach; there were (as far as I could tell, literal, actual, non egg) red berries up here, and I wondered if my body could process these.

I figured trying to grab little berries with my hooves would be more trouble than it was worth, so instead I maneuvered closer and bit off a berry straight from the branch, careful and waiting to see if the taste was bitter or sour at all, hoping if it was poisonous to me that I would figure that out before swallowing. However, the ripe berries strangely tasted like nothing at all to me; even as juices splattered onto my tongue, I parsed it as total blandness. Compared to whatever I had sucked out of the creature before, this was less than nothing. Swallowing despite how little it seemed to do for me, I felt no fuller than before, and surmised my body simply couldn’t make use of vegetation, at least.

I was about to descend back into my hole before hearing in the distance yelling. My ears swiveled in the direction it came from and I started moving slowly towards the source, doing my best to remain hidden above the branches and in darkness.

“Daisy!” The voice yelled; it seemed I could understand the language perfectly. “Daisy!” It called out again. This was clearly some attempt at getting the attention of another being; as the voice got closer and closer, I narrowed my eyes, focusing on what I could see beneath the trees. Eventually, spotted in light and otherwise obscured by darkness, I saw two shapes similar to the creature I had destroyed, pink and green. As far as I could tell from above, they were larger, but I could not interpret any further details.

“Do you really think we’ll find her?” One of the creatures asked, voice hushed and wavering as if they might break out into tears at a moments notice, if not already crying.

“We have to,” the other said, voice quivering just as well, before continuing to call out; “Daisy!”

I felt the pit of dread and guilt opening up within me once more. There was always the chance that this was coincidental, but odds were that I had caused this. I had not killed some random thoughtless creature; I had taken the life of someone who had formerly been alive and loved, and without a second thought. I could no longer hear the yelling from below as I descended further into my mind, hearing nothing but a rising ringing in my ears.

I was of two minds about the whole thing; one was the human portion, horrified by my actions which I could do nothing to fix. I had acted on impulse and as such had ruined numerous lives, doing something totally against my conscious for a meal. The other animal side of me was confident and unwavering; I had done what was natural, I could not be blamed for my actions if I had not thought through them. I was just an animal, I could not help myself.

By the time I was drawn back to reality, the creatures had gone away, and I set myself to returning to my little burrow, feeling far too depressed to continue on this train of thought and preferring just to shut all my thoughts down.

I dropped down to the ground, my segmented joints absorbing much of the shock despite the height, sighing as I entered the hole I now call home.

I stopped suddenly at the opening as, even as the sun was setting, I could see a dark figure, hovering over my little grub.

Author's Note

once more no art because i am still busy with finals :P
thank you all for putting up with the kind of boring exposition and exploration portion of this story. the interesting stuff id been dreaming about is about to unfold and chapter 5 is 4x the length of these earlier chapters and i think sets the tone and communicates the moral way better than all this ambling around

CH5: Second Second Contact

“Get away from the baby!” I hissed at the intruder, rearing up on to my back hooves and cycling my front legs in the universal gesture of horse displeasure, aiming to hit this mirror image of me with my chitinous hooves, praying they were hard enough to hurt. I genuinely cannot explain why I was so prone to acts of extreme violence up to intention of murder; perhaps I was an assassin in my past life, or perhaps this new life was instinctively dramatically aggressive. I didn’t consciously want this situation to escalate, but the impulse moved my body forward to protect the brood I had subconsciously labelled as my own.

The creature hissed back at me, thankfully immediately moving to cower instead of moving to defend itself, apparently more meek than I naturally was. “Stop- quit it!” It yelped at me, its voice just as wavering as my own, furthering my first analysis which was that this creature looked just like me. This submission opened up deescalation, which I was more than thankful to turn to, landing heavily on my hooves, snorting and bowing my head, again like an animal, or imagining that I could use my horn to attack if need be. “I’m not even doing anything!”

“Why are you here?” I asked through nearly grit teeth, doing my best to restrain my anger at this interloper. Really, it had not done anything yet to incur rage, but I did not want to let my guard down near an unannounced stranger when the little grub under my protection was here. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it if this creature was here to harm the bug, leaving me alone except for the lingering guilt of failing to protect my charge. On the topic of the newborn, it did not seem startled by this new creature, nor the near fight we’d had- in fact, it seemed entertained, leaning up and waving its hooves around, babbling as if to encourage us to fight more.

“Why- why am I here?” The bug-horse opposite me stammered, exasperated. “Why are you here? I mean- what were you doing, attacking me? I’m- we’re both just changelings!”

My eyes widened and my stance relaxed as I realized this creature could easily be good company if I could mend fences. It knew what I was- apparently, a changeling- and it surely knew more about the world, important information I might need to survive. Its tone informed me that we were likely supposed to be friendly to each other as a rule, so I should be safe to backpedal.

“I’m- I am sorry,” I said immediately, bowing further to show physically my regret. It seemed surprised by this little motion, ears swiveling and blue orbs mirroring my own. “I’m, uh... Discombobulated, you see,” I fumbled trying to figure out how exactly to portray myself. Should I be upfront about my situation, about being a different species, transported into this new peculiar land? I was not sure if the full honest truth would be the best course of action, lest I be taken as a mad man and have this creature steer clear of me, so for now I would just not mention it, employing half truths until then. I was discombobulated. “I don’t recall, currently, uh... much of anything, really.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” it said dryly, eyes narrowing at me. “But you’re physically fine, right?” I blinked, looking back at my body to check. I looked absolutely flawless, my segmented joints all smooth and clean, my chitinous portions free of scratches or scuffs. I noticed now that, in contrast, this other changeling seemed a bit awful. What I had first written off as green markings splattered around its body on further inspection seemed to be depressions and cracks in the chitin, likely fresh wounds.

“I’m fine, except for the confusion,” I said, nodding, hoping this placed me nicely in this creatures mind as something both needing and deserving of assistance.

“Great. You know you’re a changeling, right? Don’t have any sort of... pony madness?” It inquired, scrutinizing me.

“No, no, it just... you just surprised me, is all,” I frowned, cursing my impulse towards violence once more. I kept doing things that I could not take back, and I was not sure why when consciously it seemed so out of nowhere. Anyways, this changelings dialogue clued me in that the other species I saw was likely the ‘pony’ it mentioned. “I know I’m, uh, a changeling. Not exactly sure if I know everything that means, though.” My ears pinned back and I tried to smile sheepishly to downplay my confusion. Again, I feared turning this creature off of me when I needed it to accept me as one of its own and treat me as such, hopefully kindly.

“I guess I understand the circumstances. You were probably caught in that damn Canterlot explosion...,” it raised a hoof to rub at its snout, a gesture I imagined was analogous to rubbing ones temples. “Though I don’t know how you got out of it without looking like me. Or...,” it gestured to the side. Only now did I notice what I first internalized as a pile of sticks and moss before realizing with a lurch that it was a creature torn nearly fully asunder.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD?” I yelped, jumping back in surprise, hitting the den wall with my back end. “Are they okay?!” I asked frantically, looking around to see if anything to help might manifest itself. The active, mostly healthy changeling didn’t seem alarmed by my reaction, nor the state of the near-dead changeling in the corner of the burrow.

“It’s not okay, no, not currently. It could be worse, really,” I doubted that. On further inspection, it seemed to have at least half of a head, split upon the sagittal plane, and only two limbs remaining, one on either side of the body and barely stuck on to a ravaged torso, doused in green. Overall it was more green than black, yet according to the changeling I was speaking to, it was still alive despite it all. Actually, now that things were calming down and I was feeling out the room more, I could almost sense that it was alive. It was not breathing, not moving at all, yet I was experiencing that extraordinary sense once more to feel out its consciousness. I could not investigate yet, still confused by the whole situation. “You can probably help. You’re filled up on love, you really need to pass some over.”

I blinked at the changeling, trying to piece what it was saying out into context and failing. “I don’t think a hug is going to help in this situation,” I said slowly.

“No, I...,” it facepalmed with a hoof. “You’re REALLY confused, aren’t you? Love, you know, what you eat? What we live off of?” Things were finally starting to connect in my mind. ‘Love’ must have been that wonderous substance I pulled out of the pony before, and it apparently could be given to others of my kind. I nodded quickly, hoping once more to not appear too clueless. “Your... ability to transfer love hasn’t been knocked out, has it? ... Are all your injuries internal?” It tsked.

“I’ll figure it out. I can figure this out,” I assured it, frowning a bit, internally doubting my ability to make good on my word. As I mentally tried to figure out how to distill this feeling and move it outwards, the creature suddenly raised a hoof to get my attention, fumbling over itself to speak.

“And, I should clarify, in case you forgot hive hierarchy, too-- you give the love to ME first, to heal my wounds, and then we figure out if this one is recoverable,” I blinked in confusion at this changeling, baffled that it seemed ready to leave the near-dead changeling to succumb to its injuries, before it spoke up again; “If it cannot be returned to workable condition, scaled to our present circumstances, then we recover what love we can from them through consumption.”

“WHAT?” I could not contain myself, absolutely horrified at the idea. Yes, I had killed and consumed a pony already, but I could not imagine doing that to someone that was supposed to be the same as me, apparently raised in the same society, who was clearly suffering before death. My former actions had been on impulse and a need to survive; as of current, we had love to spare through me, and I was fully conscious and present to analyze this situation. “We are not doing that.”

“Says who?” It huffed, looking around the cavern. “Are there any elites around with you?” It squinted its eyes. “Actually, scratch that. If there were, they would’ve just eaten you instead of bothering with this brain damage nonsense.” It seemed to roll its eyes, though I could not be certain with its compound makeup. “If you can muster up the love to fix it yourself, then so be it, waste your energy. But if you want me to keep helping step you through this, I need my injuries healed. My limbs are barely staying on my body.” It seemed fine to me, but I had no frame of reference for what was normal or healthy in our shared species.

Right, I had to figure out how to transfer love. I closed my eyes as I withdrew into my mind, trying to pull at the internal thread of this feeling, this ‘love’ within me. Especially without outside stimuli, I really could feel the consciousness of the creatures around me; the brick wall concrete consciousness of the mostly-healthy changeling before me, the malleable airy presence of the newborn, and the fizzling sparks of a creature near death, not to mention some sort of static cloudiness above- the extra eggs, I imagined. Actually, following this thread down and that direction, it seemed the eggs had been what was pulling the love out of me. I cut that off, for now, deciding that I would need to save some of my love for this injured changeling, not to mention given I didn’t have the resources to be raising multiple children right now. I’d ask later if this was healthy or not, but I hoped they could spend a day hungry. Now, I focused on pushing that love towards this other present changeling. Once the proverbial faucet had been turned on, it felt so easy, so natural, and I opened my eyes to watch that pink mist float towards it, disappearing inside of it. I swear I could feel how hungry the other changeling was, especially now; and it was damn near empty, apparently its injuries having taken a lot out of it.

“Good, good- you’ve done it all right,” It said, satisfied as I cut off that internal thread. Now it seemed to hold itself up a bit more confidently, and it took a moment to survey its own body. “How’s the situation, anyways?” It noticed my confused expression and continued, “Where are we, what’s going on? Where’s the nearest pony settlement and do we have any ins?”

“There are ponies nearby,” I said slowly, once more trying to fit everything it was saying in to context. “Close enough that traveling here on f- hoof is easily possible, but far enough away they no one would wander here without reason, that they consider it a whole ordeal. We, uh... Does a dead pony count as an in?” Part of me feared divulging that I had killed, though the rational part of me reminded me that this creature was fine with killing and consuming its peer.

“Maybe?” Its ears perked up. “Did you get any information out of them before death? Or can we pull a memory loss?”

“I don’t know,” I was a bit overwhelmed with the questions, and gestured with a hoof at my head as if to indicate my rattled mind. “I didn’t, or, don’t know anything about the pony, so... memory loss, probably- actually, can you tell me what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“It’s... basically the only thing changelings do,” it seemed exceptionally annoyed at my confusion, as this was apparently a major concept I needed to cement in my brain (did I even have one of those?). “Taking over the appearance of ponies to harvest their love.”

“Oh... Ah.” I was unsure how to feel about that; apparently, my violence was baked into my being, and this was base level, expected, and condoned changeling behavior. The human part of me was revolted, still steeped in regret for my actions and horrified at the prospect that I’d do it some more. The animal part of me, this changeling half, was comforted and quelled, assured that my actions had furthered my survival and were not out of the ordinary whatsoever. I was just doing what was expected and perhaps needed of me; the love I gathered from that pony had helped heal another of my species, so it had to be good, some part of me argued internally. “I guess I could easily pretend to have memory loss based on my real... experience- actually, I don’t think I should be doing that. I don’t want to do that.” I backpedaled, realizing volunteering myself might throw myself directly into danger as I still was not fully conscious of the world I now inhabited, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter.

“You don’t have much choice,” it said, tilting its head. “I’ve never heard of a drone denying infiltration work! Don’t you want to just go out there in the fields, do some easy work and get some love straight from the source?”

My mouth practically overfilled with drool at the thought of it, the very vivid memory of yanking unfettered love out of a pony ever so tempting, before I shook my head to clear my mind. Again this schism made itself known in me; this was disgusting! Distilling a feeling of adoration into a consumable substance felt inherently cruel, dirtying, disrespectful to the concept of love, yet I hungered for what distressed me. It would be so easy to set aside my morals to fit into this mold presented to me, but... I had lost my body and most of my mind, I felt the need to firmly grasp what little was left of my human sensibilities despite my recent failings. This was where I drew the line in the sand; confronted with an individual to disagree with, my morals were now making themselves clear to me.

“You should be doing the infiltration work, you know better than me,” I said, crossing my front hooves meekly.

“You’re not wrong, but I don’t like your attitude about it.” It snorted.

“You don’t have to, I guess. Can I help the... Actually, what’s your name?” I asked, realizing I had gone through a lot of dialogue without even getting this other changelings name. It blinked at me, surprised at the contents of my question.

“I am designated VKC-258,” it was not letters enunciated but instead chirping and hissing in quick succession implying short notation followed by numbers. I narrowed my eyes, frowning, though I feared making my confusion known once more, lest I finally find myself at the end of VKC’s rope. Still, it was perceptive enough to notice my expression, and elaborated, guessing the source of my befuddlement; “That’s typical changeling stuff, alright? Labeling what egg batch we’re from and the order we hatched in. What about you, don’t you remember your own name?”

“No,” I shook my head slowly, “I really don’t remember much of anything at all. I just woke up here.”

“I’ll just call you Drone,” it sneered. I did not have the context to take this as positive or negative, nor did I have enough presence of mind to sift through my brain and decide if this was a good, accurate name or title for myself, so I just shrugged.

“Okay, alright. VKC, can I please feed the...” I gestured at the downed changeling near-corpse in the den with us, “... do you know their name?”

“No, we’re not expected to know every changeling in the hive. And you don’t need to do all that ‘please’ crap, like a pony,” its tone was thick with bitterness, making it clear that this was definitely an insult, though it would once more fly over my head the reasoning for. “But, yeah, sure, knock yourself out. One of us will have to go out, probably pretending to be whatever pony died, and gather up some love before we hoof it.”

“Hoof it?” I asked a bit distractedly, closing my eyes once more as I focused on moving the love in my core to this fizzling presence before me. Transferring it to VKC had been easy, like turning on a spout of water, but this was more like opening up a waterfall as this other changeling was a vast hungry abyss. Pouring love in felt as if it was doing nothing, barely incrementing this other changeling’s own meters, and soon I felt at about a quarter full, to which I stopped, leaving the other barely above none. Apparently the injuries were demanding a lot out of this creature, and as I withdrew I could sense what little I had spent already dwindling down.

“We’re here because of the Canterlot explosion, right? Separated from the main hive- under Chrysalis? If she’s still alive, we need to return to her. Bar none, we die without her.” VKC explained. I stared at it now in surprise, watching it idly play with the little grub, moving its hooves in the air for it to bat at. It sensed my confusion once more and continued; “A drone, a warrior, and whatever that almost-changeling scrap pile is isn’t an awful makeup for a patrol, but we have to return back to her to get orders and manage our love intake and output. On our own we might make more mistakes like, well, whatever you’re getting up to with that lost cause. And, well,” its ears went horizontal and it looked aside, “I’ll waste my own time and energy listening to you and leading you as best I can, but it’s not very smart, I don’t think. Definitely not Chrysalis endorsed, and we need Chrysalis’ approval to be confident in anything we do.” It nodded to itself.

This was a lot of information to absorb. There was a Canterlot, and some apparent disaster that had thrown these two out in horrible condition. There was a Chrysalis, who VKC apparently revered. I was not sure how much of a reliable narrator it was on the topic; it seemed awfully cultish to me, and though I depended on it to inform me of the world, I doubted we as a species were totally and wholly dependent on this figure, though I could not be certain of the intricacies of how our little lives functioned. Perhaps my choices were stupid, but could Chrysalis really be judge, jury, and executioner on everything?

Of course, I did not voice this for now. Instead, I commented on something I was curious about; “We shouldn’t leave, because of the eggs.”

“The what?” VKC asked, tilting its head.

“The eggs,” I gestured vaguely upwards, though I was only pointing towards the dirt and root roof of our burrow and not directly outwards to where the eggs actually drooped on their branches. “Can’t you feel them? Or... see them at all?”

“... Well, now that you point it out- and, hey, don’t rag on me for missing them. They’re intentionally camouflaged for a reason, you know,” VKC mused, rubbing its chin. “That’s so weird- it’s just you out here, no elites, no queen? I’m no expert on egg production, but I really don’t think eggs should be out here. I thought the one grub here was just a fluke- like, it grabbed on to someone’s tail before we flew out to Canterlot or something,” It stared back at me, frowning. “This changes some things- damnit, I wish you’d told me this before. I’m sure Chrysalis would be more than happy with us if we brang a whole squadron of changelings back to the hive to replenish numbers after that, ugh, disaster... But it’ll take a lot of love to incubate all of them.”

“They don’t need love, like, constantly, right?” I asked, wincing, preemptively regretting pouring out so much for a creature who was barely moving- even after filling them up, they just laid there looking dead.

“We’re a hardy breed, changelings- they’ll be fine, they just won’t be growing until you feed them again. But the growth of this little splinter group we’re making is now high priority. One of us will have to go to the nearest pony settlement and get as much love as we can.” It tapped the ground idly with its hoof. “Shame we don’t have any big thinkers here, so I can’t say exactly what we should be doing to maximize love output, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out. We kind of have to. For our survival.”

I grimaced, descending once more into my thoughts; one of us would have to do a truly awful thing, taking on the appearance of a young pony I had killed with the express purpose of draining love from their family, but I had no choice. I was not only doing this for myself, but now for two other changelings, a grub, and perhaps for whoever Chrysalis was.

Author's Note

Yay, things happening! Care values developing and lines being drawn (and trod over)!
WARNING: there will be no chapter next Saturday, I will be on vacation (and hopefully having a lot of fun)!