Changelings, Love and Lollipops
Chapter 3
If At First You Don’t Succeed
“Here’s your milkshakes, girls.” The happy pink pony bounced three overflowing glasses to the three little ponies that he was starting to think of as jailors, each little pony looking at their ice cream with sparkling eyes that should have made him stagger back under a wave of positive emotions.
Still nothing. Whatever portion of his changeling anatomy that felt and absorbed emotions had completely burned out in that disgusting pink bubble. He could not even slump in the chair due to the amount of ropes wrapped around his body that only left his eyes and mouth exposed. He had never really stopped to just breathe in the scents of a place without the emotional overtones flavoring the mix. Restricted to breathing through his mouth, it still smelled a lot like the bakery he had worked at during his Stalliongrad deployment, only without the dour undertones of hundreds of depressed grey ponies plodding through the Rushian winter snow. There had been so few little sparks of love and affection that long, cold winter that he had felt himself slipping into the same grey outlook that the rest of the customers seemed to inhabit all of the time, and the greyness was beginning to return now as he considered his fate.
“And here’s your milkshake.” The pink pony dropped his ice-cream laden glass on the table directly in front of him with a crooked straw just barely out of reach of his lips, before flouncing back into the bakery kitchen.
“Ah don’t think Pinkie Pie liked the way Mister Tolliver backed out on his Pinkie Promise,” said Apple Bloom.
“I thought she was a Miss, not a Mister,” said Sweetie Belle with a thoughtful grip on her straw and an inquisitive look in his direction that made him shudder.
“He broke a Pinkie Promise, so maybe he lied to the mayor about being a mare.”
“Or she,” prompted Sweetie Belle.
“Or both,” said Apple Bloom.
“I’m a male,” he said, glaring at the milkshake just out of reach. “Honest.”
“Liar!” The word filtered back from the bakery kitchen, flavored with a bitter spite that he could recognize despite the lack of his empathic sense. “You broke a Pinkie Promise!”
After determining that the chair he was sitting on did not scoot forward when he tried to hop, and that he could not even muster a small spark of magic to scoot the milkshake to him, he slumped in his bonds and tried the absolute last ditch ploy he could think of.
“Look, girls. I’m dying. It hurts all the way through my chest, my wings are in pain, and whatever you tied me up with makes my whole body itch. Just let me go so I can fly home and die in peace.”
“Ah don’t trust him,” growled Apple Bloom.
“Or her,” put in Sweetie Belle.
“They could be like Snips’ pet lizard,” suggested Scootaloo. “It took Fluttershy to figure out if it was a colt or filly.”
“Hello? Dying here.”
“Ya mean changelings don’t have things like lizards?” asked Apple Bloom.
“Rarity says it’s impolite to talk about the size of a stallion’s thing,” said Sweetie Belle in a most authoritative voice. “Or a mare’s… private places, except among other proper mares, with tea and biscuits. Besides, colt lizards do have things, they’re just hidden. And little.”
Three sets of inquisitive eyes looked at him, and he found himself blushing despite his circumstances, which was made only worse when he blurted out, “I do too have a thing.”
“What would a cutie mark for Changeling Gender Inspection even look like?” mused Apple Bloom, slurping down the last of her milkshake.
“A thing, probably,” said Sweetie Belle as she pushed her empty milkshake glass to the center of the table.
“Ewww!” protested Scootaloo, having finished her milkshake some time ago. “Gross!”
“I’m really thirsty. Maybe if you could just push the milkshake a little closer.”
“We’re gonna to have to find somethin’ different to get our cutie marks in. Other than things,” added Apple Bloom.
“Just a little nudge. I just need to reach the straw.”
“He did say he was hurt.”
“Or she.”
“A little ice cream might help. A little bump in this direction?”
“Well, we ain’t gonna fix he, she, or it up by ourselves, not after what Twilight made us promise the last time.”
“I still say Twilight’s ankle was sprained. And we have all those extra bandages left over after wrapping it.”
Three sets of little eyes looked in his direction. Three sets of little minds contemplated his situation. One carefully watched changeling tried not to smile at the thought of being taken to the hospital, where it would be easy to slip out of a window once the infernal ropes had been removed. Again.
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
It was not a hospital.
It looked more like a refuge for wounded animals.
An earth pony styled house, filled with little curious creatures staring down at him from the safety of their perches and nests, without a single easily-deceived nurse in sight. His little bugnappers had even left the milkshake behind.
If his nose and stomach did not hurt so much, and his wings, and his torso, and everyplace where that blasted rope touched did not itch so much, he might have considered a protest.
The very large and very grumpy bear standing just a wingspan away contributed to his decision.
“Fluttershy, please? He says he’s hurt bad.”
“Or she.”
“And he’s not a pony, so that makes him a wounded creature.”
“Or her.”
“Sweetie Belle, will you stop that?”
The barricade of furniture in the middle of the room shifted slightly and he could just make out the smallest hint of horrible pink from the top of a mane that poked out from above the couch.
“He’s really, really, really hurt?”
“Or she.”
Picking up his prompt, and deciding on a much more natural male voice this time, he coughed once before responding. It was a wet cough, formed from years of experience with emotional manipulation. You had to be careful not to put too much phlegm into a cough for fear of making the target withdraw in fear, but it had to sound like it came deep from the lungs in a noise that only close mothering under the covers and lots of soup would cure.
“I’m dying.”
“Oh, you poor dear!” This time the pony behind the couch came almost halfway over the top, looking so worried that for a moment, he did not recognize her.
And then he remembered the name.
Fluttershy.
The Fluttershy.
The Terror of the Everfree Forest, Curse of the Cockatrice, Bane of the Basilisk and the Doom of Dragons. It was whispered among the cells of the hive that she had once defeated a giant dragon with nothing more than a look and a disapproving word. It was her presence that had Ponyville labelled as a double-proscribed town, forbidden to all changelings under penalty of dismemberment and death.
And she had a pink mane, too.
It was all he could do to keep from peeing or moulting in terror as she finished coming over the couch and touched his ropes with one gentle hoof. “I can’t treat him if he’s all tied up.”
“Or her.”
“Don’t let him out,” protested Apple Bloom. “He’ll just try and get away again.”
“Yeah!” added Scootaloo. “We caught him fair and square. The mayor gave us each a milkshake for the reward.”
“Now girls. I’m sure that if he, or she, promises very very much, it will be just fine to get him or her out of the ropes.” Turning those dangerous teal eyes in his direction, she smiled just a little bit, making him whimper in fear and blurt out a response.
“Crossmyheartandhopetoflysticktwocupcakesinmyeyes?”
It was, he considered, a very useful phrase. The terrifying pegasus seemed to relax somewhat, and even made the three little ponies help unwrap the ropes from around his body, although Sweetie Belle only seemed to be interested in getting a quick look underneath. Even the bear backed up a little, moving close to the only door out of the animal-choked cottage and leaving The Fluttershy enough room to carefully examine his injuries.
He tried not to look at the open window.
Step One: Gain their confidence Check.
Step Two: Setup
He grunted and winced in the appropriate places as Fluttershy poked and prodded, feeling a little like an injured puppy instead of a proud changeling, although he did eat the tasty little treat she slipped him after the examination, with brief mourning for the ice cream still sitting on the table in Sugarcube Corner. The words ‘cracked’ and ‘sprained’ came up a lot more often than ‘broken and ‘shattered’ like he had expected, but she seemed pleased with his physical healing progress so far, with one welcome exception.
She absolutely refused the three little ponies’ politely worded requests to check if he had a ‘thing.’
His confetti-packed sinuses seemed less of a concern to her than the reddish tint to his soft chitin in places that she had examined with great caution and gentle touch, eventually declaring the possibility that it could be a fungal infection much like the termites in the house got at times, and that a good scrubby bath with some herbs from Zecora would make it all better. When she turned to open a cabinet, and while the three little ponies were playing with a puppy, he saw his chance.
Step Three: Escape!
This time he did not call out or telegraph his intentions in any regard. One moment he was sitting quietly on the rug in the middle of the floor, trying to ignore the powerful scent of an unknown number of mostly housebroken animals that somehow managed to leak through the thick plug of confetti in his nose. The next moment he was in full flight out the open window, curving his ascent past a fluffy cloud with a number of colorful balloons concealed behind it.
Balloons attached to a familiar pink pony.
And her cannon.
♥ ☆ ☄ ★ ☆ ♥
The first thing he felt as the darkness slowly receded was his nose.
Or at least the absence of it.
There had to have been such an enormous amount of heavy confetti rammed into his poor nose that if he were dropped into a lake, he would be weighted so that only his tail would stick out of the water. Pressure from his plugged sinuses made his nose numb, his head hammer, his ears ring, and some sort of echo of laughter bounce around inside his skull.
Or maybe it was just having a cannon explode in his face for the — well, however many times it had been cannoned today. He was pretty sure it wasn’t even noon yet.
The firm pressure of ropes all around his torso again was getting to be a familiar comfort. As long as the ropes were there, no cannons exploded in his face. The equation was simple.
Ropes = No Cannon
Ropes = Good
After a few deep breaths, the ringing in his ears had subsided enough to hear the joyful chuckles and splashes of small ponies at play in a bathtub, so with considerable trepidation, he opened his eyes a crack to take a peek.
And closed them. There was entirely too much pink in the room. The walls were pink. The rug in front of the bathtub was pink. The bubbles in the bathtub were pink. And the pony with the scrub brush in her mouth, vigorously scrubbing three little ponies, was, of course, pink.
Pinkie Pie + Fluttershy + Ponyville...
Oh, eggshells. The hive is going to force-feed me love just to keep me alive during the dismemberment process. Getting eaten by a bear is sounding better all the time.
Of course, there was a lot of rope between him and that goal. Again.
He opened his eyes just a crack and looked around. One door. No windows. At least they had not noticed he was awake yet.
One pink leg trembled, one bushy magenta tail twitched, and Pinkie Pie turned to look straight into his eyes.
“Whoopsie, Mister Liar Liar is awakies.”
The little white unicorn gave out a startled ‘Eep!’ and ducked back under the suds. “Rarity says it’s not proper for a gentlecolt to see a young lady in the tub,” she gurgled.
“I thought he was supposed to be a she,” said Scootaloo.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out for sure,” said Pinkie Pie.
Five minutes later…
He was getting used to indignity by now, but being taken into another room and examined in great detail before being dragged back into the bathroom and propped up with a pillowcase stuck over his head so he could not see the ‘naked’ fillies in the tub was a new one.
“He lied about being a mare,” grumbled Pinkie Pie, apparently using the brush again from the vigorous scrubbing sounds that ensured. It took longer than he expected for the three little fillies to finish their bath, get toweled off, and gallop downstairs with the promise of cupcakes, but as the sounds of wet towels being tossed in the hamper quit, the pillowcase over his head was whisked away and all he could see again was pink.
And amazingly blue eyes.
“All right, Mister Liarpants. I’ve got the tubbie all filled with Zecora’s fungicothingie herbs and bubble bath for you. Fluttershy said you need to scrub everything on you to make sure none of the pink fungus remains, although why it’s called a fungus is beyond me if you have to scrub it off. I mean wouldn’t it make more sense for it to be called a notfun-gus?”
“Um. Yes?”
“Good!”
Powerful earth pony legs lifted, there was that brief moment where he could see his death by drowning approaching, and then he could see nothing but water.
Water with pink suds.
Wrapped up as he was, there was no way to get his nose above water to take a breath. That devilish brush descended into the soapy water repeatedly, jabbing painfully into his healing thin chitin and bouncing him along the bottom of the tub while its wielder was actually singing about the scrubbieness and tubbiness of it all.
It was obvious now. She intended on drowning him. While singing. He tried to fight, but that brush plunged down whenever he managed to get a quick gasp of air and rolled him over and over amidst the bubbles.
Finally he managed to get just the end of his nose above the suds, and the hydraulic pressure of all the water he had breathed in exploded. Confetti went everywhere, mixed with snot and unmentionable goo that he could have sworn was brain tissue. Every liberated sinus cavity in his head burned with unnatural fire as he coughed and spluttered for air, only catching a glimpse of where most of the confetti had gone after taking one deep breath of blessed oxygen.
Pinkie fairly dripped with the sparkly ammunition for her cursed cannon, with a huge glob of multicolored confetti oozing slowly down her face and mane, pausing on the end of her nose, and plopping onto the floor with a disgusting noise. Narrowed blue eyes regarded him with a fierce glare, and as he raised both hooves to his head to try to hold back his burning sinuses, he realized something wonderful.
The ropes had come loose.
* * *
It said something for Sugarcube Corner that a dripping wet changeling bursting out of the back stairwell and pelting through the customers scattered around the floor was not the strangest thing that had happened there.
Although it did place fairly high on the list.
The changeling leapt tables, darted between customers, and snatched one muffin right out of the air to eat it in a single bite. With a single hop over the counter and a quick grab for a juice box, he yanked open the front door and dashed outside.
There was a fairly substantial silence.
Then the stentorian bellow of a party cannon with a double-load of Maximum Power Pink confetti sounded, and the limp changeling came hurtling back into the store.
It's a learning process. I hope he survives it.
5515950 This is seeming less like a learning process and more like inexcusable abuse.
5515989 Down here in the South (Georgia), we call it "tough love".
At least No-Name is living up to the saying of "if you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough".... I am pretty sure lesser beings would've already gone on to the great beyond two party canon shots ago.
Oh, oh, oh! Mister Liar Liar should say the following:
"I promise that Pinkie Pie will never punish me for breaking a Pinkie Promise. [insert Pinkie Promise]. I promise that I am going to be released within the next ten seconds and never bothered by anypony from Ponyville ever again. [insert Pinkie Promise]."
Pinkie Pie can't help somebuggy break a promise, but she can't punish him either--or she would be forcing him to break the promise. Pinkie Pie's head should explode into a shower of confetti shortly after.
"Stop staring at things or you might get your Cutie Mark in them" has got to be the Equestrian equivalent of "don't make that face or it will get stuck that way."
5516343
so if doctor ponies get cutiemarks in medicine what would a ponies cutiemark be for something involving gynecology or something of the like? that would kinda be unfortunate!
Okay. I did not see that coming
Hah, what?
Och, ye fuul! It is a cursèd phrase! It summons the Pink Terror! Duu not use it loightly, or ye shall nae live tae tell the tale!
Aye, it summons 'er Terrible Wep'n, tuu!
This is getting dangerously close to A Clockwork Orange brainwashing territory
She sees ye when ye'r sleepin'! She knows when ye'r awake!
She knows if ye've been bad or guud, so be guud fer gudness sake!
Yeeah... that doesn't sound like much fun
Ye fuul! Ye summoned 'er! Now ye shall live under de Pink Cannon's duumed shadow... FOREVERRRR!
Orroight. Old Tavern Poirate Nyer an' 'is Gruusume Legends of de Pink Deep, soigning off!
mmmmm well if this keeps up he well be screeming any time he don't have ropes wraped around him at all times for fear of Pinkie Pie shooting him with her Cannon.
5516713
Pinkie and her droogs have already given him (or her! ) a spot of the 'ol ultra-violence. Just wait until she breaks out the flash street choreography heavy artillery!
Poor 'ling, he's the Butt Monkey to end all Butt Monkeys.
HAS HE LEARNED NOTHING?!
5516551
Probably something like a caduceus topped with the Venus symbol. Get your mind out of the gutter. =P
When will there be a second chapter?
5517262
its not my fault! all these shameless writers, writing their shamelessness for me to read, im innocent!
*i have a large library of so many random genres i should def catalog them*
Well, you can't really fault his persistence, bless his wizened little heart. But he's still dumb as a sack full of hammers.
5518438
Well, he's desperate, and believes that he is dying. Would you want to spend the last days of your life a prisoner? Better to die free than in a cage.
Aw, but that's the best part
Oooo, a milkshake just too far away to drink? Pinkie's punishment is cruel.
Bwhahahahaha!
Man, Sweetie is really sticking to her guns on the "Or she" issue.
At this point I'm going to chalk this up to karma in action, for the "thing" examination if nothing else.
Gotta give this guy props for his incredible persistence. I know I would have long sense given up after all those party cannon shots to the face.
Pink is sweet evil...
Oh my god. That conversation with the CMC. WOW.
PINKIE, JUST LET THE CHANGELING GO DIE ALREADY!
This is sooooo funny!
That lesson was quickly forgotten.
I think Pinkie and Droopy might get along frighteningly well.
5524580
Ha! thank you. Droopy gets no love these days.
Every time he gets shot I have this mental image.
"You broke a pinkie promise. CANNON TO THE FACE!"
"NOOOO-" BOOM
5528211 I always imagine "YOU MUST DIE"
I think the guy would prefer to die already.
He.... dis is funny!
That poor changeling. He's been sexually assaulted, normally assaulted, and then tortured by pink, pink, more pink, and water. He'll never survive at this rate, especially with Pinkie on the case.
5952784 And this isn't even his last time in the tub...
...okay, this chapter. The first two simply set things up... THIS one earns the favorite from me. Holy cheese!
holy shit!!
I'm a little confused... Ponies are usually naked so why is it so rude to see them in the tub??? The only time they wear clothing is when they're going to a special event.
5515950 There doesn't seem to be an awful lot of learning going on...
5516713
I like your pirate!
6824791
Because:
Rarity
Comedy
Not necessarily in that order.
What is this? Some shallow case of Stockholm syndrome
9457309 Nope, it's a deep case of... Well, you know.
Who’s talking?
Seriously... Just surrender... No one escapes the Pink if the Pinkest Pie!