Icogny: An anti hypno corruption story.
The sun burned fiercely overhead, a relentless orb in the unforgiving sky.
The sands of the Badlands stretched endlessly, savage and untamed, their shifting dunes an ever-changing sea of golden desolation. Scattered across the barren expanse stood the remnants of a once-thriving forest—trees that had once reached toward the heavens now reduced to charred and blackened husks, grim monuments to whatever calamity had scorched this land.
Beneath my boots, the dusty, crusted sand shifted constantly, molded by the unrelenting winds. Any trace of my passage was quickly erased, as though the desert itself conspired to forget I had ever been here. My cloak snapped and thrashed in the gale, a constant battle to shield me from the stinging grit that sought every weakness in my armor. It was my only defense against the sandstorm’s worst fury as I pressed forward, each step harder than the last.
I wasn’t the first to attempt this crossing, nor would I be the last. Evidence of others who had dared the Badlands lay scattered in the shifting dunes, their skeletal remains unveiled by the whims of the wind. Bones bleached by the sun spoke of failure—child, soldier, convict, ordinary man or woman. It mattered little. Death claimed all equally here. The few mementos left behind, crude trinkets or scraps of cloth, were the only echoes of the lives they’d once led.
I paused for a moment, bowing my head slightly in silent prayer. May they find a kinder existence in the next life, far from the cruelty of this place. Though I doubted their journey ended with the grace of divine mercy. Misfortune was likely their final companion, and the thought chilled me more than the desert’s heat.
For me, though, death would hold no such mystery. If my time came here, I knew who would be waiting beyond. A godlike entity, cruel and enigmatic, who had tangled with my fate before.
Shaking off the thought, I forced myself back to the present. Reflection could wait. For now, I had a Hive Queendom to find.
I knew I was close when the golden sands gradually gave way to a darker hue, transforming into a black, opaque surface as lifeless as a starless night.
My armor’s sensors flickered to life, delivering readings, the air was saturated with a strange, intangible presence. Pheromones drifted on the wind, weaving an invisible web toward me.
The armor’s systems began analyzing the airborne compounds, filtering them while synthesizing an antidote in real time. Whatever effect these pheromones were meant to have, they wouldn’t catch me off guard. I let the process work silently in the background, focusing instead on the road ahead.
My steps slowed as I noticed a shape looming in the distance, its silhouette rising starkly from the desolate landscape. A massive, organic structure pierced the horizon, its jagged black surface glinting faintly under the oppressive sun. It resembled the colossal nest of ants or termites—but this was no ordinary hive.
It was a changeling nest. The Queendom I had been searching for.
Yet something was off. My eyes narrowed as I studied the structure. The luminescent crystals embedded in its surface, which should have glowed with the sickly green hues of changeling magic, radiated an unnatural pink.
Hot Pink.
The sight unsettled me. But whatever was happening here, it wasn’t something I hadn't anticipated.
I adjusted my pace, moving cautiously as I approached the nest.
It was worse than I had anticipated. Much, much worse.
From what I knew of changeling society, they were a tightly knit, xenophobic species. Their structure was closer to a hive mind than a traditional kingdom, with every member devoted to their queen and their collective survival. They fed on emotions, particularly love, which was as vital to them as water was to me. Fiercely territorial, they would defend their queen to the death, turning away or outright attacking any intruders who dared approach their domain.
And yet, I had walked straight into their citadel. No resistance. No guards. Not even a single challenge to my presence.
The reason for this became horrifyingly clear as I entered the main plaza.
They weren’t guarding their home. They weren’t hunting for intruders. They were rutting. Openly, shamelessly.
Every changeling I saw was engaged in some kind of carnal act, their bodies writhing in tangled, indiscriminate ecstasy. Males with females, males with males, females with females—it didn’t matter. The plaza was an orgy of depravity. Tongues licked, claws raked, and bodies bucked against one another with unrelenting hunger. Every imaginable act was on display, a grotesque spectacle of unrestrained indulgence.
The ground beneath my boots was sticky with the evidence of their debauchery—a vile cocktail of fluids: semen, urine, vomit, excrement, and what appeared to be blood. If not for the filtration systems in my armor purifying the air and masking the stench, I would have vomited long before now.
Even through the sterile lens of my helmet, the scene was disturbing. It was as though the entire hive had succumbed to a single, overwhelming command: abandon all else for this corrupt pleasure.
My HUD pinged, alerting me that I was drawing closer to the source of the pheromones.
I pressed on, forcing myself to ignore the moans, groans, and cries of fabricated unholy bliss that surrounded me.
This was wrong on every level.
Anon.
This is your fault.
At first, I thought the pink glow was a mere trick of the Lumen crystals’ light, but as I pressed forward, it became evident that it was something far more sinister. The closer I got to the throne room, the more the crystals seemed to grow—protruding from the walls, ceiling, and floor, their unsettling light intensifying.
Then I saw it: a pink mist, swirling faintly in the air. It wasn’t just light—it was a concentrated cloud of pheromones, so potent they were visible to the naked eye. My armor’s systems filtered the air I breathed, but even through the sterile confines of my suit, I could sense the weight of its unnatural presence.
The source of the miasma lay ahead, beyond a massive pair of half-black stone doors. They loomed ominously, etched with strange, flowing patterns, and from within, the muffled sounds of moans and gasps seeped through.
Steeling myself, I pushed open the heavy doors, my muscles straining against their resistance.
I froze.
The scene before me was a twisted tableau of debauchery and corruption.
The throne room was in disarray, its once-regal splendor desecrated. Scattered across the chamber were the discarded bodies of unnaturally large male changelings, their forms sprawled in haphazard piles like broken toys.
At the center of it all, on a soaking, filthy mattress, were Queen Chrysalis and Princess Cadance.
They knelt before an enormous changeling whose size dwarfed even the largest of the fallen males. The brute’s eyes were vacant, drool dripping lazily from its slack jaw, yet its presence dominated the room.
Chrysalis and Cadance moved with a synchronized, almost hypnotic rhythm, their curvaceous forms bending and swaying as they serviced the creature. Their once-regal figures were grotesquely altered—slim waists exaggerated by swollen, pregnant bellies and obscenely large, bouncing breasts that leaked milk freely.
Their chitin and fur glistened with sweat and other fluids, their hands exploring not only the changeling’s body but also each other’s with practiced, greedy motions. Their tongues licked, their lips sucked, and their hands worshipped the brute’s pink, pulsating member, which grew harder with each passing moment.
Chrysalis’s eyes, once a piercing green, now glowed with a sickly, garish pink, matching the unnatural hue of her distended belly. The only trace of her former self was a lime-green choker wrapped around her neck.
“Well now,” she purred, her voice dripping with sultry malice. “It seems our new Shining is ready once again.”
“It is!” Cadance exclaimed, her voice trembling with a disturbing mix of reverence and excitement. Her face flushed as she gazed at the changeling’s engorged member. Yet her expression faltered, tinged with regret. “But I had the first round last time...”
Chrysalis chuckled, nuzzling the beast’s length affectionately, inhaling its musk and the mingling scents of her and Cadance’s own fluids. Her movements were calculated, seductive, before she turned to Cadance and whispered, “Silly princess, of course you’ll go first. You’re his first wife, after all. I’m just the second—his consort, his... toy.”
Cadance’s face hardened. Grasping Chrysalis by the cheeks, she forced their gazes to meet. “Don’t you dare say that,” she snapped, her tone carrying a strange mix of desperation and affection. “To Shiny and me, you’re so much more than just a consort or a toy. Isn’t that right, Shining?”
The mindless brute groaned, a stream of drool escaping his mouth. Cadance and Chrysalis laughed softly, as if his incoherent noise had been a corny joke.
My eyes darted away from the disturbing display, scanning the room. That’s when I saw it—a hunched, mummified figure near another black stone door leading deeper into the mountain.
Shining Armor.
What was left of him, anyway.
His dried, desiccated body was clawed and scratched, his hands frozen mid-reach as if trying to crawl toward something. His once-vivid blue and white hair was now brittle strands clinging to his sunken skull. My HUD identified faint grooves in the floor: signs of his futile attempt to resist, to escape... or to stop this nightmare.
I forced myself to look away, focusing on the marks on the ground. My mind reeled as I tried to piece together what had happened, what had reduced him to this while turning his wife and the queen into—
A loud, guttural moan interrupted my thoughts. The brute’s erection throbbed, and both women turned their attention back to it, giggling like infatuated schoolgirls.
“Well, lover,” Chrysalis said with renewed confidence, her voice smooth and inviting, “it seems our Shining is calling for us again. Shall we?”
Cadance leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against Chrysalis’s lips. “Always,” she whispered with a smile.
And with that, the two of them lunged toward the changeling, their movements full of hunger and devotion.
I turned and stepped deeper into the shadows. As the heavy stone doors closed behind me, sealing off the horrific display, the last sounds I heard were the guttural moans and wet, obscene noises of their unholy union.
Icogny: An anti hypno corruption story.
The sound of my boots against the smooth, pink-lit stone echoed through the cavernous passages. It was the only noise I could hear, if you ignored the still-resonating moans and gasps of carnal pleasure from behind me.
I considered myself as heterosexual as one could be, and while I wouldn’t lie and say I wasn’t affected by the visuals and sounds that surrounded me, I knew better than to indulge in those fleeting, base instincts.
The royal “wives” and their twisted duty—reduced to nothing more than thralls—was a spectacle in itself. It should’ve been thrilling, in some sense, but the context rendered it utterly repulsive.
Those two... they were no longer anything like the women they once were. They were hollow, consumed by the illusion of love and pleasure. They had been remade, reshaped, into mindless breeding vessels, slaves to a force far beyond their control. The focal point of their affection had died long ago, replaced by a soulless, living mockery—a vessel of lust and nothing more.
And that... that was the truly terrifying part: the love they felt, the connection they believed in, was real. Their minds had been twisted so completely, so thoroughly, that they no longer knew the difference between reality and the lies they had been fed. A lie, repeated enough times, becomes the truth.
My fist clenched so tightly that the material of my gauntlets groaned under the pressure. My knuckles popped, a sharp crack that seemed to echo in the silence.
I punched the wall in frustration, the pain of the impact a small relief. I exhaled deeply, letting the anger burn away in slow, deliberate breaths.
There was nothing to be done now. I wouldn’t find allies here—not with the bastard Anon’s influence poisoning everything.
But this wouldn’t be for nothing. I still had a chance. The library and the vault—there could be something in there, something to help me in this crusade of mine.
And I would go to the place where Captain Shining Armor had tried to reach in his final moments, somewhere in the deep, deep of this mountain. The man deserved nothing less.
The vault was devoid of anything valuable or useful.
It was a disappointment, but ultimately, it wasn’t unexpected. The bastard had Twilight, Pinkie, and possibly Starlight by his side now.
Twilight and her junior were the most powerful and knowledgeable pair of unicorns in existence—except, of course, for the princesses of Sun and Moon, or Sunset Shimmer, if you wanted to get technical. And Pinkie? She was a wild card, as unpredictable and chaotic as they came. It was more than likely that any magical artifacts here had already been found, cataloged, repurposed, or destroyed.
All that was left were a few gold coins and some gems. I picked them up and stuffed them into my backpack. You never knew when you’d need some change.
The female guards barely spared me a glance as I entered and exited the vault. They were too absorbed in their 69.
With a sigh, I turned and made my way to the library.
The library, too, was a letdown—though not entirely.
Most of the books on magic, Changeling techniques like infiltration, seduction, and even excavation (for some reason), were either missing, shredded, or burned.
But there were a couple of interesting finds, if I could get past the numerous orgies and rutting bodies that littered the way.
First, there was an ancient scroll and tome. These appeared to be records of all the Queens before Chrysalis—detailing their history, ways, and customs. The tome was dusty, but surprisingly well-kept, suggesting it wasn’t used often, yet still kept up to date.
This was something Twilight or Starlight would be interested in, I was sure of it. Yet here it remained, hidden away in a secret alcove I noticed only when two male guards came tumbling down from a concealed door, locked in a passionate embrace, tongues in each other’s throats. Odd that they missed it, considering these two were perfectionists—paranoid, even—so their behavior was out of character.
Maybe Anon influence really change them more than than I thought.
The second thing I found was a peculiar chisel, glowing faintly green like the old Lumen crystals used to before they were tainted by Anon's dark magic. It had an inscription on it, one that resembled the patterns on Chrysalis's wings and her organic crown.
Context clues, along with a quick scan from my HUD, informed me that this chisel was used to carve and inscribe runes—no surprise, considering the only parchment I’d found was the scroll and tome of records. The rest of the books were clearly stolen.
I tucked the records into my backpack and holstered the chisel next to my gun, letting the subroutines in my armor analyze the energy in the crystal. Something told me this would come in handy sooner rather than later.
I gave the library one last sweep, but as the sex-fatigued Changelings began to stir, I decided it was time to leave. The last thing I needed was to get caught in the crossfire.
Finding myself once again in the dors to the throne room I hesitated, realistically speaking the only thing that could be the most inner chamber... Is the queen chambers.
But was I ready to just enter again that accursed please of carnal pleasure and false —yet true— love?
Fortunately I was saved to answer that question by an opportune appearance, as a changeling maid uniform (tear and stain with jizz and other kind of bodily fluids as it was) and all, waddle nearby in a lust haze I opted to be bold and approach her.
"Excuse me mam, but to where is the Queen bedchambers?".- I asked politely as I ignored the flood of male and female cum that came from both her holes, down her legs and to the floor.
She had left quite the trail by the look of it.
"Hum? Oh, just, just use the, the duct from the left and kept, keep goin down...".- She slurred like a drup up and, or perhaps, sloshed person while vaguely gesturing a dark hole in the wall next to the door, the movement causing the last of her top to give and leaving exposed her C cups to the cold air.
I ignored that and opted to searched with the look for holes in the walls next to the door and lo and behold there they ware.
If she didn't mention it i would have not notice it with the natural low glow of the Lumen crystals, if I would have use a light from my helm or my flashlight the "duct" would have been obvious but using such a harsh light would be both impolite and something of a bad idea.
"I see, thanks mam.".- I thanked her with a bow.
"Yu- Yu are well-well-CUM!".- She giggle at her own dirty joke, the funny enhance by her lust drunk mind, before continue her waddle down the corridor.
I could only sigh once again before venturing the Duct, remembering her instructions I took all the down options in the series of disorienting tunnels and rocky air vents.
It took less time than I expected to reach the bedroom.
In hindsight, that made sense—servants must be able to reach their master quickly, no matter where they are.
The ducts were confusing and disorienting, a labyrinth of spiraling rock. Without the maid's instructions, I might have been lost forever in their depths.
For all the opulence and arrogance the Queen might have possessed in the past, her quarters were surprisingly barren. Spartan, even.
A full-body mirror leaned against the wall, its once-polished surface marred by scratches. A crude-looking closet stood nearby, its doors slightly ajar. A small bookshelf sat in one corner, its shelves sparsely populated with worn tomes and loose scrolls. At the center of the room was a bed frame, its mattress conspicuously missing. I had a pretty good guess where that ended up.
The HUD in my visor confirmed the room was well-kept and surprisingly ventilated. The air was fresh—remarkably free of both dust and the suffocating, lust-maddening pheromones that pervaded the rest of the hive.
Yearning for a moment of relief, I pressed a hidden button near my collar. With a soft sound of shifting gears and displacing metal, my helmet retracted into the suit.
The cool, clean air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair—a nervous habit passed down through my family.
I allowed myself a brief moment of respite, dropping onto a simple wooden stool near the corner of the room. The quality craftsmanship groaned under the weight of my armor but held firm.
What a horror of a situation this was.
A soft ping sounded, drawing my attention to my left forearm. With a quick motion, I activated the interface, and like a certain bat detective, a small computer projected a holographic display into the air.
The screen showed that the analysis of the pheromones was complete, accompanied by a concise summary:
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE!]
Summary:
- These pheromones induce a heightened level of dissociation and amplify pleasure receptors by an alarming 500%.
- Highly addictive: even the most resilient minds can develop dependency after minimal exposure.
- Prolonged exposure leads to severe brain "rot," rendering the subject highly susceptible to magical or mundane forms of brainwashing.
Status:
- Immunization and antidote batch (x3) prepared and ready for deployment.
The report's stark details confirmed my worst fears about the hive's current state. This wasn’t just magic or instinct driving the madness—it was calculated corruption, a biological weapon designed to enslave.
I took a steadying breath, mentally filing away the information. At least now I had the tools to protect myself and potentially help others, though the latter seemed like a distant hope in this desolate hive.
With a flick of my wrist, the hologram vanished, and I steeled myself for whatever lay ahead.
After taking a moment to steady myself, I stood, reequipped my helmet, and let the mechanisms seal it back into place with a soft mechanical hiss. With my senses recalibrated and focus restored, I began a thorough examination of the room.
This couldn't be all there was. A changeling queen—especially one as cunning and secretive as Chrysalis—would undoubtedly have more hidden away.
Activating the scanning systems in my armor, I let the advanced tech probe the room far beyond the limits of my augmented vision. It didn’t take long for the system to highlight an anomaly: a subtle disturbance in the wall's composition. Approaching the spot, I found what appeared to be an ordinary rock, but when I pressed it, the mechanism beneath responded with a faint click.
Runes—intricate and ancient—flared to life in the shape of a doorframe, their soft, eerie glow casting an arc of light onto the barren walls. The center of the arc shimmered briefly before dissolving into darkness, revealing a passage hidden within.
As the glow faded, my HUD alerted me to another detail: faint hoofprints and small splatters of dried blood trailing into the depths of the tunnel. My stomach tightened at the sight, the unease settling in my chest like a heavy weight. Whatever lay ahead wasn't going to be pleasant.
Steeling myself, I activated the helmet’s integrated lights, their beams cutting through the oppressive darkness. Reaching to my side, I drew my sidearm—a Glock 17 outfitted with a silencer and mounted flashlight. The familiar weight in my hand was a small comfort.
With a deep breath, I stepped into the abyss, the sound of my boots echoing softly against the stone as I ventured deeper into the unknown.
