Exotic Meat

by Jest

Rating: mature
Tags: Horror, Profanity, Violence, Death, Human, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Changelings
Length: 1951

Who's scared of the big bad human? You're a pony, be glad! He ain't so bad. If you are a changeling though, he may be your foe. Best not test, nor cross him, or he'll tear you limb from bloody limb.

Who's scared of the big bad human? You're a pony, be glad! He ain't so bad. If you are a changeling though, he may be your foe. Best not test, nor cross him, or he'll tear you limb from bloody limb.

This was a request for Hungry Eyes 1929

This is part of the countdown to christmas, head over here to keep track of all the cool stuff coming down the pipes. If you want to ensure I can afford to keep doing stuff like this, consider backing me over on Subscribestar or Patreon.

Published 2024-12-19 23:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-19 23:00:03 UTC

Fear, The Seasoning. Terror, the Sauce.

The pony reached down and grabbed the helmet sitting on the end table. It didn't exactly offer much real protection, nor was it made of a strong metal but it was easily spotted in a crowd. The silver color of the actual helmet, and the white and grey plume atop it ensured that he was visible no matter the weather condition.

“Hmm, a little snug. Might have to request another adjustment,” murmured the earth pony.

While adjusting the helm to better sit atop his head, the pony glanced into his reflection, peering into his own emerald orbs. His eyes were always the first thing other ponies noticed about him, though in his mind that was mostly because the rest of him was pretty forgettable. He had a short mane the color of wheat, fur a shade away from being dirt brown, and a cutie of a guitar. There were nearly a dozen other stallions in the small rural village that looked just like him, but that was fine by him.

“Oh Meadow Song,” murmured a feminine voice. “Do you really have to work tonight? I thought you said you were on dayshift now.”

“I am,” Meadow Song replied, watching as his partner draped herself across his withers in a dramatic fashion. “But Fleeting Flurry didn't show up today so they asked if someone could pick up his shift. And I know how much you want that big fancy wedding.”

“You’re a peach darling,” the woman exclaimed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “But you really don't have to work quite so hard. The wedding need not happen this year. You do know how much I love the thought of a spring event.”

“I do dear,” Meadow Song replied. “That is why I am picking up this shift. If I am able to make captain by Hearth's Warming I should be able to afford all the bells and whistles you want come spring.”

“So that is a real possibility then?” She questioned, inspecting him closely. “Because I know that's what you’ve been aiming at, but I thought Sterling was refusing to comment.”

“He's been considering it more and more recently,” Meadow Song replied. “But I really must go. I don't want to be late, not with that promotion hanging in the balance.”

“Alright, dear. Enjoy your shift and keep an eye out for that human fella. I heard from Greta that he is staying at the Field Mouse Inn just up the road,” she offered, planting one last kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be fine dear. He's a vegetarian remember? It was in all the papers,” Meadow Song retorted.

“Oh I know but you can never be too careful,” she countered.

“I love you,” he called as he was trotting out the door.

“I love you too!” she exclaimed.

Meadow Song smiled to himself as he began his nightly rounds, the bit of affection giving him an extra pep to his step. Walking around the mostly quiet town, Meadow Song noted that it was dark, very dark. Most ponies had snuffed their last candle and were now resting in their beds. A few remained, like the local baker up late testing new products and the librarian who was doing some last-minute reorganizing. Save for those outliers the town was asleep.

Even the nearby forest seemed to share in the nameless village’s fatigue. Only a scant few animal calls broke the silence while not a single firefly was present to illuminate the darkness.

“Alright, that's two hours,” Meadow Song muttered to himself. “Time to get down to business.”

After giving one last look around and determining that no one else was present, the pony darted towards the forest. Once he was deep enough into the woodlands, he shed his disguise, revealing his insectoid nature. He placed the helmet on the ground behind a tree and made a note to go back for it after his job for the night was complete.

“You better be at the meeting place on time. For once,” he whispered.

Taking wing, he buzzed through the forest, weaving around the plant life with a deftness few other creatures could manage. An expert in stealth, the changeling barely made a sound, and his passage was unnoticed by the denizens of the forest. Nary so much as a single leaf nor blade of grass was disturbed until finally he reached the meeting point and landed at the edge of the small clearing.

The space was empty save for the small pond in the middle, its waters muddy and filled with bullrushes. For a moment the changeling didn't move, merely sitting in the dark, and scanning his surroundings. Yet no matter where he looked and no matter how long he stared, there was simply noone else there.

“I’m late and you are still not here,” muttered the changeling bitterly. “Why can't you ever show up on time? The hive needs the love I’m carrying.”

Irritated, he trotted fully into the clearing, hoping to draw out the other changeling who he assumed was hiding nearby. With bold confident steps, the infiltrator made his way toward the water’s edge, unafraid of whatever the forest might throw at him. Then he felt something sharp and cold bite deep into his foreleg.

“Ahh,” he cried out, grabbing at his injured leg.

In his panicked state he barely even noticed the fact that it was a bear trap that had bitten him and not some forest animal he hadn't noticed. The metal fangs sunk deep into his flesh, drawing out a small torrent of bright green blood. Stifling his scream, the changeling attempted to take wing, intent on flying away only to be stopped after only two short feet. The trap was not only attached to him but also to a long iron spike driven deep into the earth, forcing him to land.

Cursing bitterly, the changeling tried to summon his magic to remove the offending trap but the pain was too sharp and his concentration fizzled almost immediately. Holding back his whimpers of agony, he grabbed hold of the trap and tugged but the effort earned him only more pain. He wasn't strong enough, and with that grim thought in mind, the changeling realized that there might be no escaping the situation he was now in.

His panic-stricken thoughts were interrupted by the sound of distant rustling, signaling that someone or something was coming toward him. As the noise grew louder, and the thud of footsteps became audible, the changeling abandoned any attempts at escape. Instead, he put everything he had into disguising himself, donning his Meadow Song persona.

“H-hey! Is someone out there?” He called, his voice shaky and uncertain. “Could you help me? I seem to have stumbled upon a trap!”

The pain made it hard to speak, but the changeling soldiered on, keeping his undisguised and trapped limb from the view of the incoming stranger. Then the infiltrator saw who it was that broke the forest’s silence and immediately became confused. The tall, lanky physique, and loping bipedal gait told him that this was the human he had heard about. Sure enough, a stray moonbeam illuminated the creature’s pale face, revealing a splash of emerald liquid splashed across his cheek.

“Could you help me, please?” The changeling pleaded. “My hoof, it’s stuck and I-”

The words fell away the moment the infiltrator recognized the black lump resting atop the human’s shoulder. The unmoving mass was unceremoniously dumped on the ground a few feet from the changeling, proving his assumption horrifyingly correct.

“Skitter?” He muttered.

“So that's the name this one had,” remarked the human, giving the dead changeling a kick. “He died so quickly I couldn't even ask him. Or her. Still don't know how to figure that part out, what with you being bugs and all.”

“We’re not… oh by the first mother. You’re hunting us,” exclaimed the changeling, his wide eyes growing wider still.

“Yup,” proclaimed the human, pausing to pluck the spear sticking out of the dead changeling’s neck. “You make for good sport, I’ll give you that.”

The changeling dropped his already stuttering disguise and nearly retched, holding himself back through sheer force of will.

The human didn't seem to notice, and knelt down on the ground next to his kill, skinning knife in hand. A vicious stab pierced the exoskeleton, and a twist separated the hard layer away from the bloody meat beneath.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Asked the changeling.

“Cus ya taste good,” the human replied with a shrug. “That and you're about the only critters around that don't have some kinda special legal protections.”

As the human spoke he continued to pry away the exoskeleton, breaking it off in chunks and throwing them in a growing pile off to the side.

“Birds, deer, fish, heck even most insects got some kinda law that says you can't kill them. At least on purpose anyway,” he pressed on. “Now I’m not scared of tussling with the princesses, but the Equestrian Environmental Protection Agency? No way. Those guys are more militarized than the bloody Congo was.”

The strange creature laughed at his own comment, unconcerned that the changeling didn't understand why it was funny.

“But you critters? Well, you ain't even bugs to them,” he continued. “Heck, them ponies don't even classify you as a living thing which means it's open season on your chitin-covered asses.”

“But the p-papers they said you were a vegetarian!” Exclaimed the changeling.

“Oh not by choice but don't get me wrong I’m not so big a man that I can't admit that those ponies got vegetables figured out. Have you tried the fruit salad at Canterlot Castle? Whowee, I was ready to give up on meat after that,” the human remarked, pausing to tear off a large second of chitin, the exoskeleton making a squelching rip sound. “But I still need my protein, and even those fancy peanuts they feed griffins ain't enough for an old hunter like me.”

“No, I need something fresh, something bloody,” the human declared, waving around a bright green knife. “That and you lot are downright delicious.”

“How can you even say that, you monster?” spat the changeling.

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a question and answer it accordingly. See it's got something to do with all that emotion you got stuffed inside of ya,” the human replied, jabbing his knife at the changeling’s midsection. “I can't usually taste it, but after you lot get all freaked out it leaks into your muscles and fatty deposits. Just a few short minutes is all it takes to turn changeling meat from mostly tasteless and kinda stringy mess not worth eating to delicious, and juicier than one of Applejack’s prized zap apples.”

“Wait, please, don't do this. I’ll- I’ll help you kill more of my kind! I’ll do it, I swear! Just release me!” The changeling urged, lifting his trapped forehoof in emphasis.

“No can do. I already got a ‘ling on the inside. How do you think I knew you two were gonna be here?” The human remarked.

“Oh no,” muttered the changeling, his jaw falling open.

“There we go,” the human murmured, rising to his feet and plucking his spear from the ground. “That's what I was waiting for. Utter despair.”

He grinned.

“The most delicious flavor imaginable.”

Author's Note

This is part of the countdown to christmas, head over here to keep track of all the cool stuff coming down the pipes. If you want to ensure I can afford to keep doing stuff like this, consider backing me over on Subscribestar or Patreon.