Bug Bites Pizzaby Non UberisChaptersScene 1Scene 2Scene 3Scene 4Scene 5Scene 6Scene 7Scene 1The stallion wears a cordial, pleasant smile as he opens the door, but it very quickly morphs into an expression of gaping astonishment as his eyes drift up and down. Chrysalis frowns—only because she has enough restraint to keep herself from outright sneering in disdain. Customers who haven’t interacted with her yet tend to be the most tedious, as she has to get over the hump of their initial stupefaction. There’s only solace in the thought that there’s hypothetically a finite amount of this category. And this one didn’t go straight for trying to cop a feel. She slips her free hand into her shorts pocket and fishes out a crumpled notepad. “I’ve got two large veggie pizzas, one with extra mushrooms,” she reads off of the page in a flat monotone. For a few seconds, the stallion just stares in a daze before he blinks and stammers, “Y-yeah, uh, that’s right.” Chrysalis huffs, snorting through her nostrils, while she pockets the notepad. Then she reaches into her cleavage and tugs out a jangling jar full of bits and bills. “Bug Bites Pizza” is printed on its surface, with a scrap of paper taped to it that says, “Tips appreciated!” It’s quite large, a volume that must be nearly a gallon, and it holds what looks like a small fortune in change, yet it slips so easily into the obsidian valley. “Payment up front, please,” she commands sternly, saying the last word with a subtle yet potent venom, as she holds out the jar with one hand. “O-okay.” He fumbles with his own pockets for a few moments. Chrysalis suspects that he isn’t really thinking about what he’s looking for from the way his eyes keep flicking toward her chest. She doesn’t need to be able to sense his lust to tell the way his arousal is surfacing. After another few precious moments of wasted time, he blurts out “Oh” and turns to the side of the door and picks up a pile of bits sitting on a table. Chrysalis’s lip curls, exposing a sliver of pointed teeth, but she withholds her commentary while the stallion reaches to drop them in the jar. Of course, this is easier said than done because this customer just had to not be a unicorn. Chrysalis can only reach so far herself, so in order to get closer the stallion has to wade into the fleshy embrace of her bosom. He presses on the center strap connecting the cups of her bikini top—an extremely atypical piece of her uniform, but they gave up trying to make a jacket that can keep her covered, forcing her to keep the lapels open—and this results in pulling the sides together, squeezing her breasts around him. He shudders as the pliant black chitin envelops his torso, a blush overtaking his cheeks. Chrysalis winces and hisses, but the source of her discomfort is not so much this contact in itself as the heady stimulation which seeps into her, welling up within. Then he finally lets go and the bits clink in the jar. The ink on the glass flashes, an enchantment to detect that the proper payment was made, with a few smoky hearts fluttering out to indicate a tip. The changeling hardly thinks about how the weight settles and tugs on her. “Thank you, sir,” she mechanically announces as she stuffs the glass container back into her cleavage. She’s taken great care to keep herself steady while her other hand holds up the cardboard boxes, even as she leans toward the door, but now that the transaction is complete she’s all too eager to be rid of her charge, enough that she nearly thrusts the boxes into the stallion’s face. “Th-thanks!” he exclaims, “Have a nice night!” But Chrysalis is already turning away, muttering crude curses under her breath as she strides down the path to the street, certain that she’s behind schedule despite her best efforts. She wraps her thumbs under the straps of the enormous, insulated backpack she’s carrying, harboring the rest of her cargo. She wishes so desperately that she could just fly from location to location, something she can do as part of her parole, unlike magic, though not as long as she has to carry the orders like this, the backpack covering her wings. She swears that it’s putting a dent in her elytra. The time limit on her deliveries imposed by management doesn’t matter as much to her, though, as the limitation that comes from her swelling bust. It’s slight, but even that hint of lust which she absorbs from such a demure client makes a difference. Her top digs into the flesh of her bosom just a little more than it did before she knocked on the client’s door. It may be an expansion of no more than a centimeter in diameter, but those centimeters add up over the course of a night. Chrysalis grumbles as she takes off down the street, torso-occluding breasts heaving and bouncing with every step, the heat of pizza seeping into her back. Author's Note Originally written 1/2/25 I was on something of a pizza stint at the start of January. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 2Chrysalis knocks on the door again (reaching over her bosom, mashed all across the wooden panel). This time she shouts “Bug Bites Pizza!” in the hopes that it will make it more likely that somepony hears. For all she knows, the residents might be selectively incapable of hearing the sound of knuckles on wood. She’ll have to test their receptiveness to the sound of breaking the door down if they make her late for her route. She grumbles and grimaces to herself while she stands there, her arm growing sore from holding up the box of pizza. Then, right as she’s contemplating what the best implement for use as a battering ram would be, there suddenly comes a loud crash from inside the home, a commotion of thuds and bangs like there’s a fight breaking out. “Hello?” Chrysalis calls. The small part of her that is starting to accept her place in society wonders if she ought to inform the authorities (less likely that she’ll be mistaken for the culprit if she steps forward, perhaps). The turmoil goes silent again. She hears something that might be voices. Finally, hoofsteps come tromping closer, approaching the other side of the door, and at last it opens. A sliver through which the changeling sees a pony standing on the other side. She’s at an odd angle, turned away with her face twisted to the side. A big grey mass, the same color as her fur, rises up past her. “Oh, hey there, I’ve heard about you!” she says with a broad smile and a cheery giggle, “You’re that boobie bug who moved into town!” “Uh…yeah,” Chrysalis mutters absently. She’s too distracted to be angry, distracted by the mare’s golden eyes which stare in completely different directions from each other. She isn’t certain that either of them is actually looking at her—not even ogling her chest. “You’re, uh…Ditzy Doo?” “Uh-huh, big Double-D here!” she remarks as she pulls the door open the rest of the way. Chrysalis thinks that that’s way too small. Ditzy Doo is turned to the side because she never would have been able to face the door head-on. Her breasts dwarf her torso, rising up higher than her face and extending far to either side, like giant weather balloons grafted to her chest. She’s still shorter than Chrysalis, but those monsters could swallow her without a trace. “Sorry I took so long,” she says with another chuckle, “I was in Las Pegasus, hiding from the mob, when—” “Mom,” a voice calls from somewhere inside the house, “we’re talking about today.” “Oh, yeah.” Ditzy Doo smiles bashfully and blushes. “I kinda got my head stuck in a jar.” And she shrugs, her wings fluttering. Chrysalis stares at her and blurts out, “Huh?” “Anyway, I was kinda hoping you’d be the one to show up,” she then says while she reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a small pouch, “I wanted to show you my appreciation.” It takes Chrysalis a moment to catch up and realize that this is supposed to be payment. She takes out the jar from her own cleavage and the two of them contort and compress in order to come together. The doorframe creaks ominously as flesh pushes into it on either side. Ditzy finally gets the pouch in with a jangling clink, and a flurry of hearts rises out of the jar, a tip larger than Chrysalis has ever received. “I work delivery too, you know,” Ditzy says with an earnest cross-eyed smile. “Us girls in uniform gotta stick together.” “Th…thanks,” Chrysalis mutters while, unconsciously and automatically, handing the pizza through the doorway. Ditzy gingerly takes the box and rests it against her own bosom. “No problem! You have a nice night and stay safe out there!” “You too…?” Despite the looming threat of her schedule, Chrysalis just stands there for a while after the door closes. She’s entranced by the smell around her, the scent of love lingering in the air. There was not a hint of lust in the way Ditzy Doo regarded her, not even veiled by embarrassment. This is pure, unfiltered love, given out so freely, and all for a stranger? “This would be the perfect subject to take captive,” she impulsively thinks before mentally slapping herself on the wrist. The idea of a friend is still something alien and repugnant to Chrysalis. But maybe, just maybe, they can at least bond over their breast-related woes. Author's Note Originally written 1/7/25 Ditzy was on my mind so I thought about including her here. Don't ask me what the norms regarding hyper are supposed to be in this setting. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 3“Oh, hey Chrysalis!” The carefree voice comes over buzzing wings before hooves alight upon the gravel. The emerald changeling who comes to stand before her is slim and slightly toned—it takes a moderate degree of athleticism to lug around pizza deliveries, especially for those who do so while flying. Of course, the large wings which fold up into the casing behind her back are performing a lot of the work. She has to wear a backless shirt so that her clothing doesn’t inhibit her movement. “Busy night, huh?” she remarks, rolling her shoulders and neck while she holds her own insulated delivery bag by its straps. “I had to go all the way out to Sweet Apple Acres. They must have some family party going on.” “Mhm,” Chrysalis mumbles absentmindedly, hardly bothering to listen. She doesn’t think about how thankful she should be that there are other changelings, like Elytra here, who can take long-distance deliveries while she operates mostly in the heart of Ponyville. The thought of making the trek out to the orchards on hoof makes her want to throw up. Not just because of the effort involved, but because the farm is home to some of the ponies she harbors the most disdain for. It’s always a gamble any time she picks up the instructions for her route, always faced with the possibility that she’ll be asked to serve food to one of the ponies who foiled her attempts to take over Equestria. “Here, let me get that for you,” Elytra then says, and she so casually, so effortlessly, reaches forward and pulls open the door that Chrysalis had been about to fumble for herself, standing out of the way so she can pass through. “Thanks,” she replies with the most neutral tone she can manage. She should be happy, since this is the closest she can get to deferential treatment in these times. But she also can’t shake the feeling that she is being patronized. The changeling queen who has fallen so far from grace that now she needs assistance from others just to get through a door. Well, they’ll see who’s laughing when they’re the ones who need help getting through doors. She smirks to herself, not even fully knowing what it is that she’s scheming. After a few seconds of shoving and shimmying, Chrysalis succeeds in getting her bosom through the doorway. There’s not much more room to maneuver inside; Bug Bites Pizza is still hardly more than an express outlet for delivery and carry-out, so there’s only a small space for customers to stand in front of the counter. Some days, Chrysalis has enough excess love buildup that she can hardly stand there without filling the span between the counter and the wall opposite it. The changelings have still done an adequate job of decorating the building to give it their own flair, with green glowbulbs hanging from the ceiling and wavy swathes of resin coated across the walls. The changelings who, for the most part, hardly notice her presence as she comes in, still just busying themselves with their work on the other side of the counter, rolling dough and placing toppings and managing the ovens. “Chrysalis!” This voice addressing her is less friendly than Elytra’s, gruff and demanding. Spiracle, the pastel orange changeling who approaches with a stack of pizza boxes, has a girthy frame, stretching the fabric of the shirt and apron he wears. Drones of such physical condition would have been a rarity during Chrysalis’s reign—they were only rationed exactly what they needed in order to carry out their orders. There could have been more to go around, she tells herself, if only she’d been able to have her way with the ponies of Equestria. “Here’s your next delivery,” he says as he slides the boxes toward her, “try to be snappy about it, you gotta take your break before the hour’s up!” “You got it, boss,” she mutters, keeping her scowl set to “mild” intensity. She doesn’t know whether the worst part of all this is having to work for ponies or having to work with other changelings. These were supposed to be her subjects—her children. Instead, she’s just another employee. The only queen she will ever be is the queen of the delivery mares. “Can’t wait to run all around the market district again…” “Just one delivery, actually,” Spiracle replies while he hands her the receipt with the address. “That’s not so bad, Chrysalis,” Elytra remarks from beside her, all too casual and friendly as usual. “You can be done and then come back and take a break!” Chrysalis squints and reads the type on the paper and her brow furrows, her scowl deepening. “Wait a minute…Rainbow Dash?! She lives in a cloud! How am I supposed to get this to her?!” “Sorry, Chrysalis.” Spiracle shrugs. “She requested you specifically, and we gotta give the customer what they want.” She grumbles obscenities under her breath while she haphazardly scoops the pizza boxes into her delivery pack. Nevermind the disrespect owed to her by the subjects who abandoned her; working for ponies is definitely the worse factor in all this. And if that damnable pegasus so much as looks funny at her breasts then she’s going to get a faceful of veggie combo. Author's Note Originally written 1/20/25 Introducing a couple generic changeling OCs who may or may not appear again. I feel like Elytra is one of the more common changeling names that have been used by fans. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 4Bug Bites Pizza is more than just a fresh new business startup in Ponyville. It’s an ambassadorial effort by local changelings to introduce their culture to Equestria at large. The business is entirely run by the colorful bugs, those who were united by their shared interest in equine cuisine. While they carry many of the offerings that are expected of establishments like theirs—pizza, naturally, as well as sandwiches and salads and breads—they also offer options which differ from their competitors. Changelings harbor no moral compunctions about meat products, giving Bug Bites an appeal to other non-ponies such as gryphons and dragons. Their menu also includes traditional changeling fare; they are particularly vocal about their nectar, which can be used as a dip or a substitute for tomato sauce. They insist that you can taste the love in every bite. And all their ingredients are naturally sourced, of course. The groaning gasps of breath echo in the enclosed back room. Chrysalis huffs and wipes her brow. The sweet, heady smell of nectar fills her nostrils. To her, it is just an aroma, but to ordinary changelings, even those who have long forsaken her leadership, the green goo filling the vat carries potent pheromones that make it utterly irresistible. As long as it’s in this raw state, she has to handle it all by herself, limiting exposure to the other employees. On the one hand, it gives her much-valued alone time away from prying eyes. On the other hand, she has to deal with the extraction process without any assistance. She leans against a metal bar, pushing into the hard ridges of her collar. Her breasts hang low from her chest, nearly reaching to the floor, so far beyond the span of her arms that it might as well be a world away. The cups around her nipples tug and pump, sucking up all the juice that leaks from within her and collecting it within a large vat. She tries not to think about how much she’s producing; all she has to do is remain lucid enough to listen for the warning that the collection vat is nearly full so she can turn off the pump. This process is nothing like it was when Chrysalis was queen. There is much that she could be indignant about in what this has turned into. Milking her precious nectar for profits. Giving it out to ponies instead of her young. The unfeeling automatization of it all. It’s sickening. But as long as the room is closed, there’s no one to tell her she can’t take pleasure in the stimulation involved. Producing nectar in the past was something done out of necessity and only in small quantities, now her glands are so much more sensitive and can express for minutes at a time. She gasps and croons, her jaw hanging loose and her tongue lolling out, eyes half-lidded, while rocking gently back and forth, her breasts swaying pendulously. The pumping only requires that she take her top off, but she’ll often remove her shorts as well so she can have better access to her loins. No reason not to make the most of her circumstances before she has to go back to deliveries. Author's Note Originally written 1/22/25 Obligatory horny side to this mundane business. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 5“I can’t just give you a different job, Chrysalis,” Ocellus insists. “Why not?” Chrysalis snarls back, glowering back. She looms over the smaller changeling, especially when factoring in the enormous girth of her bosom which comes just shy of enveloping her. “Are you not the head of the Ponyville Changeling Outreach Program? I am a changeling, and I am in Ponyville, and I desire to reach out!” Reaching beyond the span of her breasts would be ideal, but she is not concerned with physical constraints in this particular moment. Ocellus does not cringe or shirk away from her in the slightest, however, looking up resolutely with her arms folded in front of her. This is her office, her seat of power, where her will can become reality. Of course, it also helps that she’s knowledgeable of the limitations upon Chrysalis which prevent her from causing as much havoc as she would like to. “You know that you are limited in which positions you are allowed to hold on account of your circumstances,” she says in a voice that is quiet but calm and unwavering. Growling, Chrysalis mutters under her breath, “That damn moon princess and her fat flanks. I know she’s doing this just to torment me.” “Chrysalis, why do you even want a different job?” Ocellus asks. “Because I’m tired of this one?!” she replies exasperatedly, throwing her arms up in the air. “I’m tired of being around ponies all the time! Why can’t I have a…a desk job! Why can’t I stay in here and do paperwork?!” And to her astonishment, Ocellus laughs. “Oh, Chrysalis, you have no idea what kind of work I have to tend to, do you?” Chrysalis whirls back on her, staring in disbelief. To her credit, the layers of restraint she has had to build up like a layer of calluses over her skin make it so that her first instinct isn’t to immediately launch into a tirade about the insolence of this ignoble drone before her. The former queen is about a hair’s breadth away from exploding when Ocellus then says, “Do you even realize how much money you’ve been making from this?” Her expression returns to a frowning glare. “No, I’m not allowed to see any more of it than what’s in my ‘allowance’ for weekly amenities.” “Really?” An edge of sarcastic humor slips into Ocellus’s tone, the sort of affect she rarely allows herself to put on (it’s more Smolder’s shtick). “Then you don’t realize that you’re earning far beyond the wages of a typical delivery pony on account of the generous tips you’ve been receiving.” She walks over to a white board covered with dates and time tables and flips it over, and with a blistering speed manages to draw up a detailed bar graph with multiple colors. “You see, here are the weekly earnings of the employees of Bug Bites Pizza—the deliverers, the cooks, the managers, and the franchise owner.” The last of these is a conspicuous light blue color, just like her own chitin, and it is considerably higher than any of the others. “But this does not account for tips given for delivery, and you, Chrysalis, on average have been earning about this much more.” She fills in an additional layer on top of the first column in black, making it more than triple what it had been before. “Oh, and also a little extra for your assistance with, ah…ingredient production.” She smiles sheepishly as she adds another segment in green. The end result is considerably higher than any of the store employees, only beaten out by the franchise owner. Seeing it laid out for her like this, Chrysalis can only stare in astonishment. “And actually,” Ocellus continues, quickly erasing the chart and already working on a new one, “that’s only the average, if we account for the growth over time then you’ll see that—” “Alright, fine, I get it,” Chrysalis interjects, rubbing her brow. “Maybe it’s worth it to put up with the sore hooves and the stares. Maybe. Not like it matters that much if Luna isn’t going to let me use any of it…” “Well, your parole isn’t going to last much longer at this rate, is it?” Ocellus asks cheerily, turning back to her. “Just think about how you’ll treat yourself once you’re finally able to integrate with society. To her credit, Chrysalis’s first thought isn’t to ponder the order in which she’ll enact her vengeance. Ocellus earned herself the leniency of being lowered in priority by a few notches. Author's Note Originally written 1/26/25 This all just started as an extra credit community service project for Ocellus and now she's the richest bug. It's fine she donates it all to bug-related charities. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 6“No, absolutely not!” Chrysalis snarls, veering back from the open door. “Come now, my sweet prissy Chryssy, is that any way to treat a dear old friend?” Discord replies, sounding wounded, an arrow through his chest. “To think that we could be reduced to this! And we were the top of our class together in Villains U!” He pulls out a tattered yearbook and opens it to a photograph that shows Discord and Chrysalis standing together. He’s smirking and wearing a black and purple sweater over an exaggeratedly top-heavy physique. She’s flashing an awkward smile full of braces, her mane tied in pigtails. The quality of the picture is dubiously uncanny, the lighting coming from random directions, and Chrysalis’s fingers look like they’re broken. She would tear the thing to pieces if she weren’t deprived of her magic, if she weren’t preoccupied with holding a half-dozen boxes of pizza that will come out of her paycheck if they don’t get to the customer. “I don’t care what kind of game you’re playing, vile serpent!” she hisses at him, “I wouldn’t be stuck doing these chores if it weren’t for you, and you have the nerve to show your face to me?!” “I seem to recall you were the one who knocked on the door, my deposed friend,” the draconequus replies with a nasally articulation on every syllable, pushing up a pair of thick spectacles on his elongated face. “Why it would have been rude of me not to answer, especially since the lady of the house is presently occupied with preparing our hors d’oeuvres.” And then a mare’s voice comes quietly fluttering in from the building’s interior: “Discord, is everything alright?” “Yeeees, my dear!” he replies, twisting around and over as he turns backward, “I was just speaking to the delivery bug! She’s quite the handful if you know what I mean!” Another twist to face back toward Chrysalis, upside-down, and his bushy eyebrows waggle rapidly. Chrysalis growls and grimaces. “Oh, let her come inside! We should thank her properly!” “Really now?” Discord rights himself, and he strokes his goatee. “I’m good, just take your damn food and I’ll go,” Chrysalis grumbles, bringing the stack forward, trying to extend them as far ahead of herself as possible, anything to keep him away from her bosom. “Please, my dear, it won’t take a minute,” he insists with a far-too-bright smile, “the customer is always right, you know, so you’d better do as she says!” “I’ve got a schedule to keep and you’re already—Gah!” The changeling yelps when she feels something paw-shaped push into her rump. She stumbles, her balance so precarious to begin with, and she might have fallen over if her breasts didn’t wedge in the doorway and catch her. “Ugh, fine,” she grouses before she pushes and shoves the rest of the way through. And then, the instant both of her hooves are over the cottage’s threshold, another sound comes from the interior, a great commotion of a loud thud, clattering dishware, and a high-pitched squeak. “D-D-Discord!” A pang of alarm rushes through Chrysalis like a surge of adrenaline. Something terribly wrong is happening. She just knows that she’ll get blamed for it. But she can’t just run away while she’s carrying these damn pizzas. Or while she has to squeeze back through the doorway all over again. Yet Discord just taps his fingers together and calmly responds, “Yeeees, my dear?” Then Fluttershy emerges from around the corner, staggering awkwardly and unsteadily. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Fluttershy’s breasts emerge first, a shelf jutting ahead of her, enormous globes filling her green sweater. She futilely heaves them in her arms, spilling out of her grasp, and she looks at Discord in bewilderment and alarm. Then she notices Chrysalis, and she flinches momentarily, and just briefly the changeling can take some satisfaction in her ability to intimidate, but then her visage shifts, her posture straightening. “Oh, I see,” she says with a sigh, “Discord, do you really have to do this every time?” “But of course I do, my little flying-horse,” he replies as he sidles up to her, wings buzzing, “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out!” “What is the meaning of this?” Chrysalis asks, “Fluttershy isn’t supposed to be nearly this endowed.” “No, not normally,” Discord says, and his tail stretches and whips out and lashes onto something, pulling back and rolling over a chalkboard, “but I didn’t want my precious Fluttershy to feel inadequate around mares larger than her, so I made it so that she would grow to match anyone who enters her home!” Crude stick figures manifest on the chalkboard, vague approximations of Fluttershy and Discord inside a cartoon house, with an angry-faced and large-breasted Chrysalis outside. When stick-Chrysalis comes inside, stick-Fluttershy suddenly develops her own bosom-circles. The real Chrysalis sneers, but it still doesn’t disgust her as much as that photograph did. Fluttershy doesn’t say anything to refute this, her ears folding back while she still clutches her chest, a blush rising in her cheeks. “How are you not the one stuck doing odd jobs?” Chrysalis demands. “I already went through my redemption arc, now I’m a ‘lovable scamp’ and all my actions can be categorized under ‘wacky hijinks,’” he replies, sticking out his tongue while he leans down to nuzzle Fluttershy, “you should have taken the high road while you had the chance, now you’re just going to have to wait six more seasons.” She groans at the idea of a year and a half of this tedium. Author's Note Originally written 2/9/25 I thought Chrysalis and Discord interacting would be funny and then Fluttershy got involved. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi! Scene 7“Is it comfortable to recline upon yourself in that manner?” Luna asks. Chrysalis glances up at her, chin propped on her palm, staring flatly, and she mutters back, “What does it matter to you?” The mare breathes a sigh through her nostrils and shrugs. “Very little, other than that I should hope you are treating yourself in a way that is appropriate.” She grumbles into her hands. “If I’m going to be stuck like this then the least I can do is find the avenue of least resistance.” Lying facedown upon the mattress of her bosom is far less strenuous than any other form of repose she could choose when the black globes approach these proportions. Utterly immense, like boulders strapped to her chest, their combined girth eclipsing her height, yet not quite so large that they spill onto the ground, even while sitting down. Thus it is easiest for her to simply rest upon them, which is handy since she certainly needs to rest after hauling them around. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest, sending dull ripples through the gelatinous flesh. “Well, I hope you are prepared to get back on your hooves before your bed deflates,” Luna remarks while she organizes the contents of her desk, littered with papers alongside two pizza boxes and Chrysalis’s payment jar. She sorts through the forms that document this week’s check-in while reaching for a pink crystal that fits in the palm of her hand, and she asks “You are certain that this is how much you wish to offload?” Chrysalis’s green eyes flick away and she mumbles under her breath. “Can you repeat that?” “Yes, I am certain,” she mutters. Luna flashes a thin smirk along her muzzle. Chrysalis growls and glowers back. “There is no need to be ashamed in having a little vice,” Luna says while holding up the crystal. “Though I suppose this is hardly a little in your case.” “Can we please just get on with this?” A click of her tongue. “Goodness, so impatient.” Chrysalis heaves herself back onto her hooves with a strained grunt. She holds her arms underneath her breasts, hefting them up for additional support, but this can still only improve the situation so much as the fleshy avalanches spill out of her grasp. To one standing in front of her, such as Luna, all view of her body beneath the shoulders is completely obliterated by the smooth black mountains, huge green nipples at their far ends. She grits her teeth, trembling, but she knows that this won’t take long. She knows, deep down, as much as she wants to think every time that Luna will decide to betray her and refuse to perform the siphoning operation for some arbitrary reason. The alicorn holds up the crystal, and it resonates with the inhibitor ring affixed to Chrysalis’s horn. These devices primarily serve to block a pony’s magic, but this one is designed in a particular way to enable the draining of excess magic, and a changeling who passively absorbs ambient love has a lot of that. The sensation always prompts her to clench up, tugging on her horn and her brain, but it’s worth the relief that comes with it. The pressure which suffuses her, particularly within her chest, gradually lessens, seeping out of her. The weight which pulls on her and fills her arm diminishes bit by bit, her breasts shrinking and receding into her. When it’s over, the crystal in Luna’s hand glows, pulsing with a pink light, and Chrysalis is far less oppressively buxom. Still quite absurdly buxom, though, breasts that jut ahead of her and overflow the span of her arms and cover her torso. She breathes a quiet sigh and holds them gently to herself, their warmth seeping into her. “You know,” Luna then says, putting down the crystal so she can flip through the papers again, “Ocellus was kind enough to provide me with an analysis of your growth over time. Your peaks have been getting higher and higher at each check-in.” “I don’t need some data-obsessed sycophant to tell me what’s happening to my own body,” Chrysalis grumbles acerbically. “But what do you suppose the reason is?” Luna exaggeratedly strokes her chin as if in thought. “Could it be that Ponyville is growing accustomed to you? They are no longer so afraid that they cannot help expressing their lust for you?” “I would say that you are projecting, Princess,” she says with a sneer that is almost more playful than derisive. Luna grins coyly back from beneath the starry shroud surrounding her visage. Nothing she could do would hide the love that exudes from her. She hasn’t changed because she grew more accustomed to Chrysalis’s presence; she decided that there was no point in hiding when it became apparent that the changeling could taste her feelings. “Well, if you have a greater starting baseline, you are going to hit that peak a lot sooner,” she says while she sidles closer, leaning into the cushy black flesh that envelops her thinner body. “I’m aware,” Chrysalis snaps back, and she turns her torso, pushing into Luna, but the mare doesn’t outwardly show any strain or exertion in meeting this force. Luna chortles at her and smirks. Author's Note Originally written 2/12/25 The comparisons to Method Acting finally come full circle. Hmm gee I wonder if there have been any other scenes written about Luna and delivery Chrysalis. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 1The stallion wears a cordial, pleasant smile as he opens the door, but it very quickly morphs into an expression of gaping astonishment as his eyes drift up and down. Chrysalis frowns—only because she has enough restraint to keep herself from outright sneering in disdain. Customers who haven’t interacted with her yet tend to be the most tedious, as she has to get over the hump of their initial stupefaction. There’s only solace in the thought that there’s hypothetically a finite amount of this category. And this one didn’t go straight for trying to cop a feel. She slips her free hand into her shorts pocket and fishes out a crumpled notepad. “I’ve got two large veggie pizzas, one with extra mushrooms,” she reads off of the page in a flat monotone. For a few seconds, the stallion just stares in a daze before he blinks and stammers, “Y-yeah, uh, that’s right.” Chrysalis huffs, snorting through her nostrils, while she pockets the notepad. Then she reaches into her cleavage and tugs out a jangling jar full of bits and bills. “Bug Bites Pizza” is printed on its surface, with a scrap of paper taped to it that says, “Tips appreciated!” It’s quite large, a volume that must be nearly a gallon, and it holds what looks like a small fortune in change, yet it slips so easily into the obsidian valley. “Payment up front, please,” she commands sternly, saying the last word with a subtle yet potent venom, as she holds out the jar with one hand. “O-okay.” He fumbles with his own pockets for a few moments. Chrysalis suspects that he isn’t really thinking about what he’s looking for from the way his eyes keep flicking toward her chest. She doesn’t need to be able to sense his lust to tell the way his arousal is surfacing. After another few precious moments of wasted time, he blurts out “Oh” and turns to the side of the door and picks up a pile of bits sitting on a table. Chrysalis’s lip curls, exposing a sliver of pointed teeth, but she withholds her commentary while the stallion reaches to drop them in the jar. Of course, this is easier said than done because this customer just had to not be a unicorn. Chrysalis can only reach so far herself, so in order to get closer the stallion has to wade into the fleshy embrace of her bosom. He presses on the center strap connecting the cups of her bikini top—an extremely atypical piece of her uniform, but they gave up trying to make a jacket that can keep her covered, forcing her to keep the lapels open—and this results in pulling the sides together, squeezing her breasts around him. He shudders as the pliant black chitin envelops his torso, a blush overtaking his cheeks. Chrysalis winces and hisses, but the source of her discomfort is not so much this contact in itself as the heady stimulation which seeps into her, welling up within. Then he finally lets go and the bits clink in the jar. The ink on the glass flashes, an enchantment to detect that the proper payment was made, with a few smoky hearts fluttering out to indicate a tip. The changeling hardly thinks about how the weight settles and tugs on her. “Thank you, sir,” she mechanically announces as she stuffs the glass container back into her cleavage. She’s taken great care to keep herself steady while her other hand holds up the cardboard boxes, even as she leans toward the door, but now that the transaction is complete she’s all too eager to be rid of her charge, enough that she nearly thrusts the boxes into the stallion’s face. “Th-thanks!” he exclaims, “Have a nice night!” But Chrysalis is already turning away, muttering crude curses under her breath as she strides down the path to the street, certain that she’s behind schedule despite her best efforts. She wraps her thumbs under the straps of the enormous, insulated backpack she’s carrying, harboring the rest of her cargo. She wishes so desperately that she could just fly from location to location, something she can do as part of her parole, unlike magic, though not as long as she has to carry the orders like this, the backpack covering her wings. She swears that it’s putting a dent in her elytra. The time limit on her deliveries imposed by management doesn’t matter as much to her, though, as the limitation that comes from her swelling bust. It’s slight, but even that hint of lust which she absorbs from such a demure client makes a difference. Her top digs into the flesh of her bosom just a little more than it did before she knocked on the client’s door. It may be an expansion of no more than a centimeter in diameter, but those centimeters add up over the course of a night. Chrysalis grumbles as she takes off down the street, torso-occluding breasts heaving and bouncing with every step, the heat of pizza seeping into her back. Author's Note Originally written 1/2/25 I was on something of a pizza stint at the start of January. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 2Chrysalis knocks on the door again (reaching over her bosom, mashed all across the wooden panel). This time she shouts “Bug Bites Pizza!” in the hopes that it will make it more likely that somepony hears. For all she knows, the residents might be selectively incapable of hearing the sound of knuckles on wood. She’ll have to test their receptiveness to the sound of breaking the door down if they make her late for her route. She grumbles and grimaces to herself while she stands there, her arm growing sore from holding up the box of pizza. Then, right as she’s contemplating what the best implement for use as a battering ram would be, there suddenly comes a loud crash from inside the home, a commotion of thuds and bangs like there’s a fight breaking out. “Hello?” Chrysalis calls. The small part of her that is starting to accept her place in society wonders if she ought to inform the authorities (less likely that she’ll be mistaken for the culprit if she steps forward, perhaps). The turmoil goes silent again. She hears something that might be voices. Finally, hoofsteps come tromping closer, approaching the other side of the door, and at last it opens. A sliver through which the changeling sees a pony standing on the other side. She’s at an odd angle, turned away with her face twisted to the side. A big grey mass, the same color as her fur, rises up past her. “Oh, hey there, I’ve heard about you!” she says with a broad smile and a cheery giggle, “You’re that boobie bug who moved into town!” “Uh…yeah,” Chrysalis mutters absently. She’s too distracted to be angry, distracted by the mare’s golden eyes which stare in completely different directions from each other. She isn’t certain that either of them is actually looking at her—not even ogling her chest. “You’re, uh…Ditzy Doo?” “Uh-huh, big Double-D here!” she remarks as she pulls the door open the rest of the way. Chrysalis thinks that that’s way too small. Ditzy Doo is turned to the side because she never would have been able to face the door head-on. Her breasts dwarf her torso, rising up higher than her face and extending far to either side, like giant weather balloons grafted to her chest. She’s still shorter than Chrysalis, but those monsters could swallow her without a trace. “Sorry I took so long,” she says with another chuckle, “I was in Las Pegasus, hiding from the mob, when—” “Mom,” a voice calls from somewhere inside the house, “we’re talking about today.” “Oh, yeah.” Ditzy Doo smiles bashfully and blushes. “I kinda got my head stuck in a jar.” And she shrugs, her wings fluttering. Chrysalis stares at her and blurts out, “Huh?” “Anyway, I was kinda hoping you’d be the one to show up,” she then says while she reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a small pouch, “I wanted to show you my appreciation.” It takes Chrysalis a moment to catch up and realize that this is supposed to be payment. She takes out the jar from her own cleavage and the two of them contort and compress in order to come together. The doorframe creaks ominously as flesh pushes into it on either side. Ditzy finally gets the pouch in with a jangling clink, and a flurry of hearts rises out of the jar, a tip larger than Chrysalis has ever received. “I work delivery too, you know,” Ditzy says with an earnest cross-eyed smile. “Us girls in uniform gotta stick together.” “Th…thanks,” Chrysalis mutters while, unconsciously and automatically, handing the pizza through the doorway. Ditzy gingerly takes the box and rests it against her own bosom. “No problem! You have a nice night and stay safe out there!” “You too…?” Despite the looming threat of her schedule, Chrysalis just stands there for a while after the door closes. She’s entranced by the smell around her, the scent of love lingering in the air. There was not a hint of lust in the way Ditzy Doo regarded her, not even veiled by embarrassment. This is pure, unfiltered love, given out so freely, and all for a stranger? “This would be the perfect subject to take captive,” she impulsively thinks before mentally slapping herself on the wrist. The idea of a friend is still something alien and repugnant to Chrysalis. But maybe, just maybe, they can at least bond over their breast-related woes. Author's Note Originally written 1/7/25 Ditzy was on my mind so I thought about including her here. Don't ask me what the norms regarding hyper are supposed to be in this setting. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 3“Oh, hey Chrysalis!” The carefree voice comes over buzzing wings before hooves alight upon the gravel. The emerald changeling who comes to stand before her is slim and slightly toned—it takes a moderate degree of athleticism to lug around pizza deliveries, especially for those who do so while flying. Of course, the large wings which fold up into the casing behind her back are performing a lot of the work. She has to wear a backless shirt so that her clothing doesn’t inhibit her movement. “Busy night, huh?” she remarks, rolling her shoulders and neck while she holds her own insulated delivery bag by its straps. “I had to go all the way out to Sweet Apple Acres. They must have some family party going on.” “Mhm,” Chrysalis mumbles absentmindedly, hardly bothering to listen. She doesn’t think about how thankful she should be that there are other changelings, like Elytra here, who can take long-distance deliveries while she operates mostly in the heart of Ponyville. The thought of making the trek out to the orchards on hoof makes her want to throw up. Not just because of the effort involved, but because the farm is home to some of the ponies she harbors the most disdain for. It’s always a gamble any time she picks up the instructions for her route, always faced with the possibility that she’ll be asked to serve food to one of the ponies who foiled her attempts to take over Equestria. “Here, let me get that for you,” Elytra then says, and she so casually, so effortlessly, reaches forward and pulls open the door that Chrysalis had been about to fumble for herself, standing out of the way so she can pass through. “Thanks,” she replies with the most neutral tone she can manage. She should be happy, since this is the closest she can get to deferential treatment in these times. But she also can’t shake the feeling that she is being patronized. The changeling queen who has fallen so far from grace that now she needs assistance from others just to get through a door. Well, they’ll see who’s laughing when they’re the ones who need help getting through doors. She smirks to herself, not even fully knowing what it is that she’s scheming. After a few seconds of shoving and shimmying, Chrysalis succeeds in getting her bosom through the doorway. There’s not much more room to maneuver inside; Bug Bites Pizza is still hardly more than an express outlet for delivery and carry-out, so there’s only a small space for customers to stand in front of the counter. Some days, Chrysalis has enough excess love buildup that she can hardly stand there without filling the span between the counter and the wall opposite it. The changelings have still done an adequate job of decorating the building to give it their own flair, with green glowbulbs hanging from the ceiling and wavy swathes of resin coated across the walls. The changelings who, for the most part, hardly notice her presence as she comes in, still just busying themselves with their work on the other side of the counter, rolling dough and placing toppings and managing the ovens. “Chrysalis!” This voice addressing her is less friendly than Elytra’s, gruff and demanding. Spiracle, the pastel orange changeling who approaches with a stack of pizza boxes, has a girthy frame, stretching the fabric of the shirt and apron he wears. Drones of such physical condition would have been a rarity during Chrysalis’s reign—they were only rationed exactly what they needed in order to carry out their orders. There could have been more to go around, she tells herself, if only she’d been able to have her way with the ponies of Equestria. “Here’s your next delivery,” he says as he slides the boxes toward her, “try to be snappy about it, you gotta take your break before the hour’s up!” “You got it, boss,” she mutters, keeping her scowl set to “mild” intensity. She doesn’t know whether the worst part of all this is having to work for ponies or having to work with other changelings. These were supposed to be her subjects—her children. Instead, she’s just another employee. The only queen she will ever be is the queen of the delivery mares. “Can’t wait to run all around the market district again…” “Just one delivery, actually,” Spiracle replies while he hands her the receipt with the address. “That’s not so bad, Chrysalis,” Elytra remarks from beside her, all too casual and friendly as usual. “You can be done and then come back and take a break!” Chrysalis squints and reads the type on the paper and her brow furrows, her scowl deepening. “Wait a minute…Rainbow Dash?! She lives in a cloud! How am I supposed to get this to her?!” “Sorry, Chrysalis.” Spiracle shrugs. “She requested you specifically, and we gotta give the customer what they want.” She grumbles obscenities under her breath while she haphazardly scoops the pizza boxes into her delivery pack. Nevermind the disrespect owed to her by the subjects who abandoned her; working for ponies is definitely the worse factor in all this. And if that damnable pegasus so much as looks funny at her breasts then she’s going to get a faceful of veggie combo. Author's Note Originally written 1/20/25 Introducing a couple generic changeling OCs who may or may not appear again. I feel like Elytra is one of the more common changeling names that have been used by fans. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 4Bug Bites Pizza is more than just a fresh new business startup in Ponyville. It’s an ambassadorial effort by local changelings to introduce their culture to Equestria at large. The business is entirely run by the colorful bugs, those who were united by their shared interest in equine cuisine. While they carry many of the offerings that are expected of establishments like theirs—pizza, naturally, as well as sandwiches and salads and breads—they also offer options which differ from their competitors. Changelings harbor no moral compunctions about meat products, giving Bug Bites an appeal to other non-ponies such as gryphons and dragons. Their menu also includes traditional changeling fare; they are particularly vocal about their nectar, which can be used as a dip or a substitute for tomato sauce. They insist that you can taste the love in every bite. And all their ingredients are naturally sourced, of course. The groaning gasps of breath echo in the enclosed back room. Chrysalis huffs and wipes her brow. The sweet, heady smell of nectar fills her nostrils. To her, it is just an aroma, but to ordinary changelings, even those who have long forsaken her leadership, the green goo filling the vat carries potent pheromones that make it utterly irresistible. As long as it’s in this raw state, she has to handle it all by herself, limiting exposure to the other employees. On the one hand, it gives her much-valued alone time away from prying eyes. On the other hand, she has to deal with the extraction process without any assistance. She leans against a metal bar, pushing into the hard ridges of her collar. Her breasts hang low from her chest, nearly reaching to the floor, so far beyond the span of her arms that it might as well be a world away. The cups around her nipples tug and pump, sucking up all the juice that leaks from within her and collecting it within a large vat. She tries not to think about how much she’s producing; all she has to do is remain lucid enough to listen for the warning that the collection vat is nearly full so she can turn off the pump. This process is nothing like it was when Chrysalis was queen. There is much that she could be indignant about in what this has turned into. Milking her precious nectar for profits. Giving it out to ponies instead of her young. The unfeeling automatization of it all. It’s sickening. But as long as the room is closed, there’s no one to tell her she can’t take pleasure in the stimulation involved. Producing nectar in the past was something done out of necessity and only in small quantities, now her glands are so much more sensitive and can express for minutes at a time. She gasps and croons, her jaw hanging loose and her tongue lolling out, eyes half-lidded, while rocking gently back and forth, her breasts swaying pendulously. The pumping only requires that she take her top off, but she’ll often remove her shorts as well so she can have better access to her loins. No reason not to make the most of her circumstances before she has to go back to deliveries. Author's Note Originally written 1/22/25 Obligatory horny side to this mundane business. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 5“I can’t just give you a different job, Chrysalis,” Ocellus insists. “Why not?” Chrysalis snarls back, glowering back. She looms over the smaller changeling, especially when factoring in the enormous girth of her bosom which comes just shy of enveloping her. “Are you not the head of the Ponyville Changeling Outreach Program? I am a changeling, and I am in Ponyville, and I desire to reach out!” Reaching beyond the span of her breasts would be ideal, but she is not concerned with physical constraints in this particular moment. Ocellus does not cringe or shirk away from her in the slightest, however, looking up resolutely with her arms folded in front of her. This is her office, her seat of power, where her will can become reality. Of course, it also helps that she’s knowledgeable of the limitations upon Chrysalis which prevent her from causing as much havoc as she would like to. “You know that you are limited in which positions you are allowed to hold on account of your circumstances,” she says in a voice that is quiet but calm and unwavering. Growling, Chrysalis mutters under her breath, “That damn moon princess and her fat flanks. I know she’s doing this just to torment me.” “Chrysalis, why do you even want a different job?” Ocellus asks. “Because I’m tired of this one?!” she replies exasperatedly, throwing her arms up in the air. “I’m tired of being around ponies all the time! Why can’t I have a…a desk job! Why can’t I stay in here and do paperwork?!” And to her astonishment, Ocellus laughs. “Oh, Chrysalis, you have no idea what kind of work I have to tend to, do you?” Chrysalis whirls back on her, staring in disbelief. To her credit, the layers of restraint she has had to build up like a layer of calluses over her skin make it so that her first instinct isn’t to immediately launch into a tirade about the insolence of this ignoble drone before her. The former queen is about a hair’s breadth away from exploding when Ocellus then says, “Do you even realize how much money you’ve been making from this?” Her expression returns to a frowning glare. “No, I’m not allowed to see any more of it than what’s in my ‘allowance’ for weekly amenities.” “Really?” An edge of sarcastic humor slips into Ocellus’s tone, the sort of affect she rarely allows herself to put on (it’s more Smolder’s shtick). “Then you don’t realize that you’re earning far beyond the wages of a typical delivery pony on account of the generous tips you’ve been receiving.” She walks over to a white board covered with dates and time tables and flips it over, and with a blistering speed manages to draw up a detailed bar graph with multiple colors. “You see, here are the weekly earnings of the employees of Bug Bites Pizza—the deliverers, the cooks, the managers, and the franchise owner.” The last of these is a conspicuous light blue color, just like her own chitin, and it is considerably higher than any of the others. “But this does not account for tips given for delivery, and you, Chrysalis, on average have been earning about this much more.” She fills in an additional layer on top of the first column in black, making it more than triple what it had been before. “Oh, and also a little extra for your assistance with, ah…ingredient production.” She smiles sheepishly as she adds another segment in green. The end result is considerably higher than any of the store employees, only beaten out by the franchise owner. Seeing it laid out for her like this, Chrysalis can only stare in astonishment. “And actually,” Ocellus continues, quickly erasing the chart and already working on a new one, “that’s only the average, if we account for the growth over time then you’ll see that—” “Alright, fine, I get it,” Chrysalis interjects, rubbing her brow. “Maybe it’s worth it to put up with the sore hooves and the stares. Maybe. Not like it matters that much if Luna isn’t going to let me use any of it…” “Well, your parole isn’t going to last much longer at this rate, is it?” Ocellus asks cheerily, turning back to her. “Just think about how you’ll treat yourself once you’re finally able to integrate with society. To her credit, Chrysalis’s first thought isn’t to ponder the order in which she’ll enact her vengeance. Ocellus earned herself the leniency of being lowered in priority by a few notches. Author's Note Originally written 1/26/25 This all just started as an extra credit community service project for Ocellus and now she's the richest bug. It's fine she donates it all to bug-related charities. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 6“No, absolutely not!” Chrysalis snarls, veering back from the open door. “Come now, my sweet prissy Chryssy, is that any way to treat a dear old friend?” Discord replies, sounding wounded, an arrow through his chest. “To think that we could be reduced to this! And we were the top of our class together in Villains U!” He pulls out a tattered yearbook and opens it to a photograph that shows Discord and Chrysalis standing together. He’s smirking and wearing a black and purple sweater over an exaggeratedly top-heavy physique. She’s flashing an awkward smile full of braces, her mane tied in pigtails. The quality of the picture is dubiously uncanny, the lighting coming from random directions, and Chrysalis’s fingers look like they’re broken. She would tear the thing to pieces if she weren’t deprived of her magic, if she weren’t preoccupied with holding a half-dozen boxes of pizza that will come out of her paycheck if they don’t get to the customer. “I don’t care what kind of game you’re playing, vile serpent!” she hisses at him, “I wouldn’t be stuck doing these chores if it weren’t for you, and you have the nerve to show your face to me?!” “I seem to recall you were the one who knocked on the door, my deposed friend,” the draconequus replies with a nasally articulation on every syllable, pushing up a pair of thick spectacles on his elongated face. “Why it would have been rude of me not to answer, especially since the lady of the house is presently occupied with preparing our hors d’oeuvres.” And then a mare’s voice comes quietly fluttering in from the building’s interior: “Discord, is everything alright?” “Yeeees, my dear!” he replies, twisting around and over as he turns backward, “I was just speaking to the delivery bug! She’s quite the handful if you know what I mean!” Another twist to face back toward Chrysalis, upside-down, and his bushy eyebrows waggle rapidly. Chrysalis growls and grimaces. “Oh, let her come inside! We should thank her properly!” “Really now?” Discord rights himself, and he strokes his goatee. “I’m good, just take your damn food and I’ll go,” Chrysalis grumbles, bringing the stack forward, trying to extend them as far ahead of herself as possible, anything to keep him away from her bosom. “Please, my dear, it won’t take a minute,” he insists with a far-too-bright smile, “the customer is always right, you know, so you’d better do as she says!” “I’ve got a schedule to keep and you’re already—Gah!” The changeling yelps when she feels something paw-shaped push into her rump. She stumbles, her balance so precarious to begin with, and she might have fallen over if her breasts didn’t wedge in the doorway and catch her. “Ugh, fine,” she grouses before she pushes and shoves the rest of the way through. And then, the instant both of her hooves are over the cottage’s threshold, another sound comes from the interior, a great commotion of a loud thud, clattering dishware, and a high-pitched squeak. “D-D-Discord!” A pang of alarm rushes through Chrysalis like a surge of adrenaline. Something terribly wrong is happening. She just knows that she’ll get blamed for it. But she can’t just run away while she’s carrying these damn pizzas. Or while she has to squeeze back through the doorway all over again. Yet Discord just taps his fingers together and calmly responds, “Yeeees, my dear?” Then Fluttershy emerges from around the corner, staggering awkwardly and unsteadily. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Fluttershy’s breasts emerge first, a shelf jutting ahead of her, enormous globes filling her green sweater. She futilely heaves them in her arms, spilling out of her grasp, and she looks at Discord in bewilderment and alarm. Then she notices Chrysalis, and she flinches momentarily, and just briefly the changeling can take some satisfaction in her ability to intimidate, but then her visage shifts, her posture straightening. “Oh, I see,” she says with a sigh, “Discord, do you really have to do this every time?” “But of course I do, my little flying-horse,” he replies as he sidles up to her, wings buzzing, “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out!” “What is the meaning of this?” Chrysalis asks, “Fluttershy isn’t supposed to be nearly this endowed.” “No, not normally,” Discord says, and his tail stretches and whips out and lashes onto something, pulling back and rolling over a chalkboard, “but I didn’t want my precious Fluttershy to feel inadequate around mares larger than her, so I made it so that she would grow to match anyone who enters her home!” Crude stick figures manifest on the chalkboard, vague approximations of Fluttershy and Discord inside a cartoon house, with an angry-faced and large-breasted Chrysalis outside. When stick-Chrysalis comes inside, stick-Fluttershy suddenly develops her own bosom-circles. The real Chrysalis sneers, but it still doesn’t disgust her as much as that photograph did. Fluttershy doesn’t say anything to refute this, her ears folding back while she still clutches her chest, a blush rising in her cheeks. “How are you not the one stuck doing odd jobs?” Chrysalis demands. “I already went through my redemption arc, now I’m a ‘lovable scamp’ and all my actions can be categorized under ‘wacky hijinks,’” he replies, sticking out his tongue while he leans down to nuzzle Fluttershy, “you should have taken the high road while you had the chance, now you’re just going to have to wait six more seasons.” She groans at the idea of a year and a half of this tedium. Author's Note Originally written 2/9/25 I thought Chrysalis and Discord interacting would be funny and then Fluttershy got involved. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
Scene 7“Is it comfortable to recline upon yourself in that manner?” Luna asks. Chrysalis glances up at her, chin propped on her palm, staring flatly, and she mutters back, “What does it matter to you?” The mare breathes a sigh through her nostrils and shrugs. “Very little, other than that I should hope you are treating yourself in a way that is appropriate.” She grumbles into her hands. “If I’m going to be stuck like this then the least I can do is find the avenue of least resistance.” Lying facedown upon the mattress of her bosom is far less strenuous than any other form of repose she could choose when the black globes approach these proportions. Utterly immense, like boulders strapped to her chest, their combined girth eclipsing her height, yet not quite so large that they spill onto the ground, even while sitting down. Thus it is easiest for her to simply rest upon them, which is handy since she certainly needs to rest after hauling them around. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest, sending dull ripples through the gelatinous flesh. “Well, I hope you are prepared to get back on your hooves before your bed deflates,” Luna remarks while she organizes the contents of her desk, littered with papers alongside two pizza boxes and Chrysalis’s payment jar. She sorts through the forms that document this week’s check-in while reaching for a pink crystal that fits in the palm of her hand, and she asks “You are certain that this is how much you wish to offload?” Chrysalis’s green eyes flick away and she mumbles under her breath. “Can you repeat that?” “Yes, I am certain,” she mutters. Luna flashes a thin smirk along her muzzle. Chrysalis growls and glowers back. “There is no need to be ashamed in having a little vice,” Luna says while holding up the crystal. “Though I suppose this is hardly a little in your case.” “Can we please just get on with this?” A click of her tongue. “Goodness, so impatient.” Chrysalis heaves herself back onto her hooves with a strained grunt. She holds her arms underneath her breasts, hefting them up for additional support, but this can still only improve the situation so much as the fleshy avalanches spill out of her grasp. To one standing in front of her, such as Luna, all view of her body beneath the shoulders is completely obliterated by the smooth black mountains, huge green nipples at their far ends. She grits her teeth, trembling, but she knows that this won’t take long. She knows, deep down, as much as she wants to think every time that Luna will decide to betray her and refuse to perform the siphoning operation for some arbitrary reason. The alicorn holds up the crystal, and it resonates with the inhibitor ring affixed to Chrysalis’s horn. These devices primarily serve to block a pony’s magic, but this one is designed in a particular way to enable the draining of excess magic, and a changeling who passively absorbs ambient love has a lot of that. The sensation always prompts her to clench up, tugging on her horn and her brain, but it’s worth the relief that comes with it. The pressure which suffuses her, particularly within her chest, gradually lessens, seeping out of her. The weight which pulls on her and fills her arm diminishes bit by bit, her breasts shrinking and receding into her. When it’s over, the crystal in Luna’s hand glows, pulsing with a pink light, and Chrysalis is far less oppressively buxom. Still quite absurdly buxom, though, breasts that jut ahead of her and overflow the span of her arms and cover her torso. She breathes a quiet sigh and holds them gently to herself, their warmth seeping into her. “You know,” Luna then says, putting down the crystal so she can flip through the papers again, “Ocellus was kind enough to provide me with an analysis of your growth over time. Your peaks have been getting higher and higher at each check-in.” “I don’t need some data-obsessed sycophant to tell me what’s happening to my own body,” Chrysalis grumbles acerbically. “But what do you suppose the reason is?” Luna exaggeratedly strokes her chin as if in thought. “Could it be that Ponyville is growing accustomed to you? They are no longer so afraid that they cannot help expressing their lust for you?” “I would say that you are projecting, Princess,” she says with a sneer that is almost more playful than derisive. Luna grins coyly back from beneath the starry shroud surrounding her visage. Nothing she could do would hide the love that exudes from her. She hasn’t changed because she grew more accustomed to Chrysalis’s presence; she decided that there was no point in hiding when it became apparent that the changeling could taste her feelings. “Well, if you have a greater starting baseline, you are going to hit that peak a lot sooner,” she says while she sidles closer, leaning into the cushy black flesh that envelops her thinner body. “I’m aware,” Chrysalis snaps back, and she turns her torso, pushing into Luna, but the mare doesn’t outwardly show any strain or exertion in meeting this force. Luna chortles at her and smirks. Author's Note Originally written 2/12/25 The comparisons to Method Acting finally come full circle. Hmm gee I wonder if there have been any other scenes written about Luna and delivery Chrysalis. If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-Fi!
