A Rough Week
“Ah, my favorite student has come to try on her graduation gown!”
Ocellus smiled and casually tasted the air. Mint, honey and agave. Professor Rarity’s enthusiasm was honest, and yet… “you say that about all your students, don’t you?”
Rarity made a “tsk” sound. “You should know by now that it’s true. You’re all my favorites!”
The changeling shared a small laugh with her soon-to-be-former teacher. “Yes, here to pick up my gown.”
Rarity lit her horn, a small bit of effervescent blue mana wafting off to the adjoining room. “If you’ll just step over to the changing room, we’ll check the fit.”
Ocellus watched as the basic black gown wafted in on Rarity’s magic aura. “I’m sure there’s no need. You did take my measurements just a few months ago for my ballgown for you-know-who’s secret tea party.”
Rarity frowned and Ocellus tasted pomegranate and chili. That was odd. Why would her teacher be frustrated? “It will only take a moment, dear.”
Ocellus replicated the unicorn’s “tsk,” down to the affected accent. “I’m sure you did just fine. You have my measurements, after all.” The pomegranate vanished from the mare’s scent. Ocellus found herself frowning. “I’ll try it on myself later. I’ve got a study date with my friends that I can’t miss.”
Rarity drew in a long, slow breath and released it, simmering chili filling the changeling’s senses. “Very well. Please come back if you have any troubles.”
Ocellus took the gown in one hoof and nodded. Why was the unicorn acting so strangely?
“She screwed it up!” Ocellus bleated, tugging at the bolt of cloth that was supposed to wrap over her midsection. “Is this a friendship lesson or something?”
Smolder’s scent went from sugarcane to crisped persimmons to charred ozone in a matter of heartbeats. Ocellus stuck out her tongue involuntarily. That kind of rapid palette switch could throw a drone off her appetite in a hurry. The dragon’s scent landed on worry: charred timber. It shocked Ocellus enough that she stopped fighting with the over-tight gown momentarily. The dragon never worried.
“What?” Ocellus demanded.
The slender orange dragon eyed her cautiously, and Ocellus tasted steel.
“Don’t you clam up on me!” the changeling said, narrowing her eyes.
Smolder shook her head firmly, her jaw clenched tight.
“Argh!” Ocellus cried, tugging at the gown. “Do you think Professor Rarity did it as a joke? Some kind of prank in conjunction with Professor Pinkie?” Smolder’s steel cracked and the changeling tasted a babbling, clean brook. Amusement? She turned to her best friend and glared at her. “What?!” she demanded again.
Smolder shook her head slowly. “I’m pretty sure Professor Dresshorse used the same measurements as she did for your frilly tea getup.”
“What?” Ocellus asked incredulously. “That’s absurd!” She grabbed the gown and pulled, until she heard a seam tear. “Hive damn it!” She was going to have to apologize to Professor Rarity now, even if the unicorn had somehow screwed up the fitting. “There’s no way she used the same size. This thing won’t even get past my midsection!”
The babbling brook intensified as Smolder muttered something to herself.
Ocellus fixed her friend with her sternest look, the one the dragon had taught her to employ. “What was that?”
Smolder shrugged. “I said, maybe there’s a reason for that?”
“I’ve gotten FAT!” Ocellus wailed, staring despondently into a mirror.
“You’re still cute!” Smolder said, her tone reassuring. She slowly patted the changeling’s back.
Ocellus was too distraught to sense the dragon’s genuineness, assuming her friend was being truthful and not just kind. She was too overcome with shock to even think of eating. Oh, Hivefather. Eating. She sobbed. “There’s just so much love and friendship here!” she cried. “I didn’t even know we could overindulge!” She stared down at her thick torso, suddenly seeing all the rounded curves where months ago there had been sharp angles. “How did I not notice?”
The reflection of the orange dragon shrugged. “Between protecting the entire world from three lunatics, term papers, and prepping for final exams, I’m shocked we haven’t missed more stuff. Besides, why all the worry? One claw waved around her midsection. “Can’t you just magically ‘poof’ yourself skinny?”
Ocellus sighed. “Probably, but it’s exhausting to hold an altered base form for an extended period of time.”
“So don’t worry about it,” Smolder said reasonably.
“And just be fat?” Ocellus asked, stricken. “Whoever heard of a fat changeling?!”
Smolder laughed, and Ocellus smelled charred hickory and cherries. “Whoever heard of a friendly changeling, huh?”
The drone frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “I suppose.”
“So maybe this is something new. Besides,” she said, exuding spun sugar and unpolished jade “I kinda like you a little thick.”
Ocellus felt her face warm and her wings shiver. “Do you?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet and innocent.
Ocellus tasted lemon candy and spiced rum in the air between them. The changeling quivered, basking in the dragon’s attention. “Want me to show you?” Ocellus melted with the heat of the dragon’s grin and greedily breathed in the hot sauce and frostberries and ginger that wafted in her direction.
Ocellus was stuffed with love and lust and joy. She poked a chitinous hoof against her soft underside. Too full. Despite her rational judgment, despite knowing on a carnal level that Smolder did indeed find her attractive at her current size, Ocellus found herself dissatisfied with her current state. What did other creatures do to be not-fat? Exercise, right?
She pulled herself out from under the dozing dragon carefully and slipped out the door.
Her insides were on fire, every breath tearing at her airways. Her hooves pounded on the packed dirt of the path in a wildly different rhythm than her rapidly beating heart. She had only been running a few minutes, but she felt like she was going to explode. Her stomach lurched and she veered towards a nearby bush. She vomited noisily as she ducked off the path.
It was awful. Horrendous. She had never thrown up before, but she suddenly understood other creatures’ reticence about the act. Thick yellow ichor poured from her mouth, leaving slimy trails of gold along the green leaves.
“Whoa, hey, Ocellus are you okay?”
The changeling shivered miserably as she felt another purge coming.
Her insides emptied themselves into the bush again, and she felt a hoof gently touch her shoulder. “Ew, what is that?”
She leaned against the comforting hoof. “Vomit.” Her stomach roiled again but she managed to keep it down. “I think I’m okay, thanks, Sandbar.”
She could see the pony looking down skeptically. “Yellow, shiny vomit?”
Ocellus closed her eyes and whimpered. She wanted desperately to think about anything else. “Yes? Is that not normal? Isn’t that what yours looks like?”
The earth pony laughed softly. “Not unless I’d eaten a bunch of lemon rinds and glitter.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t give Professor Pinkie that idea.”
“Wouldn’t…” she swallowed roughly, “dream of it.”
Sandbar shifted his body, leaning in closer to the mess. “Is it like… emotions and stuff?”
Ocellus nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose so. Most of my diet is composed of friendly emotions, after all.” Thinking about that made her hungry. She chided herself. That was exactly what had fattened her in the first place, probably. Still, she could almost taste the sandalwood and peach concern and care coming off her friend. And love. “Wait,” she said aloud.
As Sandbar gave her a confused look, she tasted the air again. Hot sauce and frostberries. It was love. Just not Sandbar’s love. She knew that taste (honey and candied lime) though she had sampled it only rarely. This was Smolder’s love. She stared at the slimy stuff in the bush. She leaned in close and breathed deep. And then her mouth watered.
Love. Rich, condensed, delicious love. Bolder and stronger than she had ever felt in any one place at one time. Something about it tickled a deeply-buried memory, but she couldn’t place it. She forced herself to step away, Sandbar still pressed next to her.
“You okay?” The little drone did her best to stop herself from eating the candied lime of Sandbar’s optimistic concern. Maybe she was starving after evacuating her system, but that was good, right? Reduce intake, reduce her unsightly size.
“I’ll be okay, thanks Sandbar.” She forced herself to look away from the liquid love congealing in the bush.
Ocellus sat in the library alone. She could feel herself exuding gloom (wet mulch and wilted spinach) strongly enough that she was glad no other changeling attended the school. It was embarrassing to be this worked up. Changelings were supposed to be good at controlling their emotions. She was supposed to be good at controlling her emotions. And she was, usually. She tapped a hoof on the tabletop irritably.
“Oh hey!” a loud voice beside her said. Ocellus jolted in surprise. “I need that book, can I borrow-“ Ocellus found herself hissing, her long, thin tongue waggling in the air between sharp teeth. She clamped her mouth shut and drew in a shocked breath when she saw the look of terror on Silverstream’s face.
“NEVER MIND,” the hippogriff cried, backing away slowly.
“Oh gosh, Silverstream!” Ocellus said, the horror of how she’d reacted settling in. She could smell her own shame (rock dust and bread mold) wash over her in waves. “I’m so, so sorry! Please,” she gestured with a hoof, “take the book. I’m… I’m just not feeling myself today at all.”
The hippogriff reached out a hesitant claw and snatched the book from the table. The oily anxiety she could taste on her friend tied the changeling’s stomach into knots.
Silverstream gave an awkward laugh. “Why not be someone else for a while, then?”
Ocellus looked up at her friend slowly. “What?”
The hippogriff shrugged one shoulder. “Do your magic thing. Poof! You’re some other creature.”
It was so absurd it shocked the changeling out of her sadness. “Huh,” she replied simply.
“Go on!” Silverstream encouraged. “I always love watching you do it!” She giggled and Ocellus tasted peach cobbler. “I hope that’s not weird. It’s like the magic from my pearl, but so much cooler!”
“Well… okay,” she conceded. “Who should I be?”
“Ooh, ooh, do Professor Pinkie Pie!”
Ocellus smiled and focused her magic. She tensed her core and breathed out deeply, feeling the familiar magic spiral within her. It ignited with a spark at her horn and traveled along her body, every part of her stretching and shifting and changing in an instant. She felt the too-familiar ache of new muscles and skin stretching tight over her form, her nerves in agony and ecstasy in the same moment. “Ta da!” She announced, in her best party pony voice.
Silverstream squealed in delight. “Oh, I love it! You sound just like her! But, um… Why did you make her so chubby?” The hippogriff giggled. “Not that she’s skinny, but…”
Ocellus gaped in shock, Pinkie Pie’s usually ebullient face taking on a sour note as she swung her head around. Silverstream was right: for some reason she’d added a little pooch to the party professor’s posterior… and more than a little blub to her belly. “Argh!” she yelled. She had let her anxiety and frustration affect her shapeshifting prowess. She relaxed her form and Pinkie Pie washed away until the little frustrated changeling drone stood in her place.
“Um,” Silverstream replied nervously. Ocellus grimaced at the smell of salted greens. “Sorry?”
Ocellus drew in a long, slow breath and shook her head. “You’re fine, Silver.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. She remembered why her friend had come over in the first place. “Did you want to talk about what’s in the textbook for the essay?”
“As long as you’re not going to be hissy about it, yeah,” she said. Ocellus took a moment to enjoy the current of companionship (warm rye bread) layered under the hippogriff’s teasing (orange zest) before offering Silverstream a cushion beside her.
“It’s just so weird!” Ocellus complained. “The last few days, I’ve just felt completely off. Like nothing is making sense anymore!”
“Are you sure you’re not just nervous about graduation?” Gallus asked as he floated lazily overhead.
The drone sighed. “I am nervous about that,” she admitted, “but this feels like something weirder. I hissed at Silverstream earlier!”
Gallus laughed, and Ocellus fought against inhaling the coffee and caramel taste of his mirth. Sweet blightlands, she cursed, dieting was going to be hard. “Sorry,” the griffon apologized. “Why did you hiss at her, though?”
Ocellus pushed down a rush of shame. “She tried to grab a textbook from my table.”
“Eh,” Gallus responded. “I once bit Sandbar for trying to take the last truffle from our stash… I think he liked it, though.” The drone tasted rich dark chocolate.
Ocellus laughed, enjoying the rare moment when a creature’s emotions tasted just like something they were describing. “Hush,” she said, playfully glaring at the griffon, “I’m going on a diet. I don’t need your lewd stories filling me up.”
The griffon looked at her, and she could taste red vinegar surprise. “You’re the tiniest one of all of us. What do you need to diet for?”
She grunted. He was being honest. Well, she reasoned, the griffon wasn’t one to spend a long time admiring the female form anyway. She waved a forehoof at her belly, and Gallus swooped down. He eyed her skeptically. ‘That’s barely anything.” He slapped her shoulder with one claw playfully. “You remember how much weight I gained that first week eating in the cafeteria?” He smiled broadly. “First time in years I got to eat anything I wanted instead of scrounging for scraps.” He tapped his stomach fondly.
Ocellus sighed. “I know,” she said. “I’ve just got to commit to cutting back on sweets.”
Gallus grinned. “So then I shouldn’t tell you about what Sandbar and I did this morning?” Ripe strawberries and rich cream floated in the air.
“Stop!” she pleaded, forcing her receptors closed.
Ocellus woke slowly, her mind hazy. She had fallen asleep easily the night before, and had slept deeply, yet she felt more tired than ever. She sat up, and a thick, slurping sound filled the air as her hoof pulled free from something wet and heavy. She screamed and tore herself away from her bed, falling to the ground hard. She rubbed her flank, momentarily glad for the extra bit of new padding. She looked back into the bed, and almost screamed again. A thick layer of shiny gold mucus coated the sheets of the bed, a changeling-shaped hole in the middle of the mess, where she had been laying. It was like the thicker cousin of the stuff she had vomited the day before.
And it smelled heavenly, like nothing she had ever tasted.
She backed away, sliding across the floor. Something was terribly, horribly wrong with her.
The dorm room door banged open, a huge furry creature leaping into the room. “Yona hear scream! Is friend changeling okay?”
Ocellus ripped her eyes away from her bed and focused on her friend. “I’m…” she was going to say ‘fine,’ but that would’ve been misleading, at best. “I don’t know,” she replied instead.
She could smell Yona’s cedar worry over the rich, almost cloying sweetness of the mess on her bed. The yak stepped forward and touched a surprisingly tender hoof to her elytra. “Friend Ocellus sick?”
Ocellus looked back at her bed. Her mouth watered as she stared at the horrible, gross, delicious-smelling mass sticking to the sheets. And then her stomach churned. “Ugh,” she muttered. “Hey, Yona, would you mind helping me to the bathroom?”
The yak lifted her easily with one upturned hoof. “Yaks best at caring for friends!” Ocellus nestled into the soft fur that covered the thick musculature of the yak’s chest and breathed in her friend’s pride and comfort (prickly blackberry and peanut butter). She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to sick up on her friend. “Yak make friend traditional rock tea later.” Yona walked through the doorway carefully, shielding the changeling from the heavy door with her body. “Yak teas best.”
Ocellus lay in the corner of her room, staring at a book that lay on the ground a pace in front of her, just out of range of the results of any stray bouts of sickness that continued to wrack her shuddering form. She squinted at the words on the page miserably. It was, according to Silverstream, “the trashiest romance novel the librarian could recommend.” Ocellus sighed. It was delightfully trashy. It was even a smidge romantic. And it even touched on her love for esoteric fantasy, since the lovers were a hengstwolf stallion and a vampire-bat mare. But it just wasn’t the same without the actual emotions in the air. It was like only hearing a play, or only smelling a Sugarcube Corner cake, or…
She turned her head towards the corner, vomiting profusely. The syrupy sweet aftertaste of love on her tongue made her woozy. And hungry. The gelatinous pile of solidified sick that had accumulated around her was nearly as large as she was. Which, frankly, seemed impossible to the small part of her mind still able to think rationally. The shiny pile of sick shone dully in the low light.
She used a brief burst of her magic to lift the flagon of rock tea to her side. She swallowed down the bitter brew reluctantly. It tasted even worse than the name suggested, but she had to admit that the yak brew did help settle her stomach. And the taste of the tiniest remnant of love with which it had been brewed didn’t hurt, either.
She pulled a green and yellow blanket from the floor from where it had fallen and wrapped it back around her midsection. It still smelled of Sandbar, and she welcomed the warmth the pony’s blanket provided. Some clever bit of earth pony science kept it dry even from the changeling’s sticky discharge. Ocellus sighed. Even after numerous rounds of discharge.
The mound of blankets on the changeling’s bed stirred. Smolder stretched, the joints of her arms popping loudly. “Need some more tea?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sorry, Smolder, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The dragon rubbed a claw across her eyes groggily. “’S’no biggie. You want that refill?”
Ocellus shuddered in distaste. But her guts didn’t shudder along with the rest of her. She sighed. “Yes, if you promise you don’t mind getting up.”
Even from across the small room, she could taste the dragon’s resolve. “I said ‘no biggie.’” She sounded irritated, but her scent carried none of the frustration of her tone.
“Thank you,” the little drone said, as warmly as she could manage.
Smolder unfurled herself from the bedsheets, stood, and stretched. Her orange and yellow scales pulled taut along her slender form. Ocellus felt a stirring inside her wholly unrelated to whatever illness plagued her. Smolder walked over, bent to retrieve the mug, and planted a kiss on the changeling’s head. Ocellus shivered, overwhelmed by the heat and spicy scent of love that kiss delivered.
“Be back in a bit,” the dragon said, before flapping her wings and flying towards the door.
Ocellus lay still for several moments, basking in the memory of the dragon’s love. Her stomach rumbled angrily, and she turned her attention back to the book in front of her, hoping without much optimism that it would distract her from her physical misery.
It didn’t work for long. She nearly missed hearing some creature knocking on the dorm room door over the sounds of her sicking up. She thought about ignoring the door, making them go away. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. She lay her head on her hooves.
A second set of knocks, and Ocellus shook her head slowly. Curiosity won out over good sense. “Yes?” She called out. “It’s unlocked,” she explained, hoping whoever it was would forgive her rudeness for not answering the door herself.
The door opened and a beak peeked inside. It was quickly followed by a blue face and a handsome crown of yellow-tipped crest feathers. “Hey,” Gallus said, peering into the dark space, his eyes glancing around until they landed on where she lay in the corner. “These two showed up in the main hall and Starlight asked that I show them the way to your-“
The griffon yelped as he was thrown bodily into the room. The door slammed open, revealing a tall, dark-hued changeling who lunged into the room. “Renegade!” he shouted, a hiss escaping his open mouth.
Ocellus stood quickly on shaky legs. “You?!” How dare he enter her room like that! She was to be respected in her domain! She wobbled, her vision going fuzzy. The nerve of that drone!
Wait. Something clawed at her brain. That wasn’t a drone. That was-
“Pharynx!” Another voice from the hall yelled. “What in the Hive are you doing?”
The dark-hued changeling gathered himself, lowering his body. Ocellus saw the crazed look in his compound eyes, tasted the blind fury in the air like charred ozone. She gasped as Pharynx threw himself toward her.
A loud shriek was quickly followed by two loud grunts as a blue streak intercepted the attacker. Pharynx’s head twisted to the side as Gallus’s clenched claw impacted the changeling’s jaw. The griffon bit down on Pharynx’s neck with his beak as they collapsed in a heap against Ocellus’ desk.
“Pharynx!” the voice from the hall cried out again.
Ocellus drew herself up tall. Blue magic washed over her in an instant, as she let her fury and surprise transform her into a hulking slab of changeling muscle. “ENOUGH!” She shouted.
Pharynx and Gallus stopped struggling on the ground. A set of stately antlers leaned into the room. Thorax stared at the display in shock. “What is going on in-“ he paused.
The Changeling King locked eyes with Ocellus. She shivered with fear and anger, though joy at seeing her mentor bubbled to the surface, too. Thorax sucked in a breath and stepped quickly out of the room. Ocellus felt her legs wobble mutinously.
“Pharynx! Out of there now!”
The Hive Protector snarled wordlessly at his brother.
“Pharynx! This isn’t the way anymore!” Ocellus heard her King sigh. “Please,” he said, his voice making the request a command.
The fight went out of the dangerous changeling’s body instantly. He slumped in the griffon’s grip. Gallus turned to look at Oecllus, and she nodded slowly. Only then did the griffon’s claws and beak release the Protector. She sent a wave of gratitude toward her friend, even aware that he couldn’t taste it.
Gallus smiled at her. Ocellus felt a frown crease her face. He shouldn’t have been able to feel that.
Pharynx stood and walked toward the door. He glanced sideways at Ocellus as he left, a wary look in his eyes.
She felt like laughing. (Which then made her feel like sicking up. She stilled her mind.) She had every reason to be wary of him, but there he was, acting like a scared larva. What was she going to do, vomit on him?
The thought and the slowly-fading adrenaline pushed her over the edge and she unwillingly added to the growing mess around her. Gallus strode to her side and offered an arm to her. She took it gratefully as she wiped the edge of her mouth with one hoof. She took a moment to consider the word the Protector had thrown at her like a curse, but was interrupted by the gentle, kind voice of her mentor.
“Ocellus? May I enter?”
She shook her head slowly, careful not to let the movement make her sick again. What a strange request from the most important changeling she knew. “Of course, Thorax,” she said. The King entered the room with his head held low, his antlers nearly scraping the ground.
It looked ridiculous. She nearly laughed, but something about his attitude felt… right. “What are you doing?”
He glanced up slowly, a smile tugging the side of his mouth. “It’s the proper way to greet a Changeling Queen in her domain.”
Ocellus vomited noisily.
Ocellus sat on her bed again. “Oh, Hive,” she muttered wearily. She was flanked by a fierce, fiery-colored dragon and a vigilant blue griffon. A lanky hippogriff fluttered overhead, much of her usual silliness absent from her emotional scent, and a large yak cow and sturdy earth pony stallion sat on the floor in the front of the bed. Across from her friends, her mentor King Thorax sat on a hastily-gathered plush cushion beside his Protector. He had explained that Headmare Starlight had teleported him to the School after Smolder had told her of Ocellus’s condition.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked. Some part of her already knew the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. “About me being…” she trailed off, unable to complete the thought. A scaled claw squeezed her side lightly.
Thorax gestured with a long hoof to the semi-solid mess of gold in the corner of the room. “You’ve already begun constructing brood cells.”
Ocellus felt the color drain from her face as her blood went cold. She smelled surprise and confusion from her friends. “I’m… brooding?”
“You dog!” Smolder laughed, punching her lightly in the side. Her voice was playful, but there was a dangerous cinnamon note of jealousy in her scent. “Who’ve you been doinking?”
“Oh!” Thorax laughed, “that’s not how it works for us.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, a little collection of physical lust can go a long way in helping, but a Queen can use love in any of its forms to birth new changelings.”
Ocellus felt heat return to her face in a hurry. She flushed as she glanced surreptitiously at her friends. “A-any form of love?” she asked.
“Of course!” Thorax said, smiling broadly. “Starlight Glimmer shared selfless, platonic love with me when I first became King to help create our first brood of Free Changelings.”
“Wait, what?” Gallus interrupted from beside her. Ocellus could taste her friend’s confusion and amusement (helium and sweet candy). “Headmare Starlight gave birth to a bunch of changelings?”
Thorax shared a confused look with Pharynx. “Uh, no,” King Thorax replied, “I did, obviously.”
“Yona thought changeling king was male?”
“It is my preferred form, yes, but as King I’m responsible for the continued success of the Hive. Which clearly includes reproduction.”
Ocellus could taste cottony surprise from all of her mammalian friends. Smolder, however, just smelled contemplative.
“And now you’re creating your own Hive!” Thorax beamed at his former drone. “An Equestrian Hive! Oh, goodness, we’ve come so far in just a few years. I can’t wait to establish an embassy with you, Ocellus. Ooh! I mean Queen Ocellus.”
Ocellus lay her head down on the bed slowly. Queen. She hadn’t asked for this.
“If I may ask,” King Thorax continued, “who is the creature I have to thank for your forthcoming larva? I assume it’s one of your friends here?”
Ocellus covered her face with her hooves. She mumbled her response into the sheets. Hardly dignity befitting a queen, she realized, but…
“Sorry, what?” Thorax asked.
Ocellus could taste the concern and anticipation in the air around her. She lifted her head and looked at each of her friends in turn, slowly. “Well,” she drawled, “I’ve never, uh, done this before. But I think it was…. all of them.”
The concern turned to shock, the acrid taste overwhelming her receptors.
Her friends stared at her. Ocellus grimaced. And then the strangest thing happened. The shock around her turned to joy, pure sugar in the air.
“I’m gonna be a dad?” Sandbar said in wonder.
“Me too!” Silverstream said, swooping down and hugging the earth pony tightly. “Eee! I just need to convince Auntie Novo to streamline my ambassadorial appointment so I can stay after graduation!”
“Yona excited to be…?” she pondered for a moment before shrugging. “Parent!” She crushed the hippogriff and pony in a yak hug until the two wriggled free. “Yona also happy to stay after graduation. Yak show Professor Rarity she make good choice for summer internship!”
“Oh gosh, I can’t wait to tell my parents!” Sandbar said.
“You’re gonna need someone to keep those grubs safe,” Gallus said.
Ocellus fought down tears of joy. “I’d be honored to have you as my Protector, Gallus.” She laid a hoof on one of his wings. “If you’d be willing.”
Pharynx finally broke his silence, making a rude sound with his wings. “A non-changeling Protector.”
The griffon glared at the larger creature. “Already whooped your flank once.” He chuckled as Pharynx looked away in irritation. “I’ve got no other plans,” he said. “Griffonstone’s a dump anyway.” He looked fondly at his friends. Ocellus gulped down the sweet nectar of love shared in so many directions.
“And what am I?” Smolder asked, fiery hurt coloring the otherwise delicious scents of love. “Not strong enough to protect you?”
Ocellus shook her head. How could she not know? “Don’t be silly,” she said, laying a hoof on the dragon’s lips, silencing further protests. “You’re my Queen, Smolder.” She kissed the dragon, feeling Smolder’s lust and love and wonder, the spicy, saucy, ginger taste spreading across her lips.
The dragon fought down surprise and tried to muffle her delight. She failed. Miserably. Ocellus swallowed the minty taste greedily.
She stared at her friends, the first members of her Equestrian Hive, in elation. She emitted euphoria, and her friends beamed at her. The future tasted beautiful, indeed.
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The question of "Who's the father" gets really strange with the Changelings.
Here’s my one criticism for this story:
You don’t need to describe the “flavor” of every single emotion Ocellus comes across. It just doesn’t add enough to the story to make it necessary and it’s not something we need to know.
Now I need more.
Honestly?? I really wanna know what happens now.
This reminded me of another story on this site, Ocellate. This, however, was certainly a bit lighter in tone.
The paternity test is gonna be tough...especially given three of the donors aren't male.
Good luck in the contest! I'll be rooting for you.
10057743
I kinda agree here. At least not every time should an emotion be described. Maybe each character having their own blend, maybe how it changes but not all the time. It feels a bit much. Still this is a good entry.
10057743
10058067
I respectfully disagree. I personally felt that it added to the story in that it allows us, as readers, to understand how Ocellus is thinking and feeling.
One hell of a premise you got here! I hope you do more with it, I'd say it'd be almost a shame if you just left it at that.
That is definitely the appropriate reaction to such news.
Oh, that's going to be a fun conversation.
"Hey, mom, dad! I'm going to be one of the dads for a whole new hive of changelings!"
"...wait...run that by us again, son?"
On one side, it seems really weird, and even more weird for me to say what I'm about to...but on the other I somehow actually really like the idea of all the Young Six, uh...begetting (sorry, the English language really isn't well prepared for the proper terminology for this
) their own little hive of changeling children. So...I'll just accept the weirdness and run with it to wherever it takes me. 
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I respectively disagree. I felt it really added to the immersion of Ocellus's POV for the story. Other fics typically make mention of changelings sensing emotions only occasionally, usually when the emotion sensed is key to the present scene of the story, but in reality, such sensing is undoubtedly quite constant, and it reminds the reader that this would literally be how changelings perceive the world--not so much by physical sight but by the wild range of emotions around them. So I applaud the author for capturing how a changeling would view the world around them in a way the rest of us non-changelings can understand.
It actually makes me think I slacked off on doing the same last time I tried writing for changelings. Hmm...note for the future...
Besides, it was really only super constant at the start of the story, when everything was still being introduced. Though it never truly stops, it comes up slightly less and less quite notably the further the story goes on, so it's not like every other sentence throughout the whole story was mentioning the taste of whatever emotion.
Well... that was unexpected. Now I wonder what will happen when trying to explain this. Not just to those at the school of friendship, but others like Dragon Lord Ember and Prince Rutherford.
Upon considering it further, I too want to express interest in some sort of follow-up to this fic at some point in the future. There's definitely more that could be told with this idea. A whole AU, really, if we want to go that far.
This is sweet, adorable, and intriguing. I humbly request a continuation or sequel.
Ah, Changeling teenage pregnancy. Complicated!
When it came to what was wrong with Ocellus, it looks like almost everyone was laboring under a misconception. I'll see myself out.
I wish it didn't end there but... this was ok.
I love this take on Ocellus, especially your description of her Changeling senses. An easy favourite!
This is great! I, too, would love to read a follow-up
Even when it's a student 6 polyship...you still sneak in Gallbar stuff. I see what you're doing Parker
You had me thinking Smolder was the main love donor though, with the description of what Ocellus was puking up when she met Sandbar. The colour stayed throughout, so I got the impression it was more of the same. Something to do a little edit of, perhaps?
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That was a fascinating read, thank you for bringing it up!
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No problem. Dark stuff, eh?
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One has to imagine the Tree of Harmony is somewhere in there, also.
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Who wants to draw the Punnett square?
What is a "hengstwolf?" I tried Google, and all it gave me was an old guy named Wolf Hengst.
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Seems to be german for “Stallion”. So essentially a werepony.
Definutely the fluffiest teen pregnancy I've ever seen. Lovely tale of affection and bizarre alien biology, though I feel you went a little overboard with all of the different emotional flavors. Still, it is a key part of the changeling experience.
Lovely stuff... though I don't want to be the one to tell Ocellus she should construct the brooding cells somewhere other than the school.
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A werepony would be a human that turns into a pony. The 'were' in 'werewolf' comes from 'wer' which is Old English for 'man'. Thus, 'werewolf' mean 'man wolf', and 'werepony' would mean 'man pony'.
Hengst also seems to be Old English, according to this: https://www.directdutch.com/2014/02/word-of-the-day-hengst-stallion/
Also, some pretty interesting history.
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Fair enough actually.
the gallbar undercurrents can get fucked
but the rest is great
8.5/10
Love Ocellus is/becomes a changeling queen stories.
I don't know why, but stories where Ocellus turns out to be a changeling queen just make sense. It feels like it's right. The story could be poorly written with a less-than half-baked plot and horrible grammar/formatting and it would still feel right. But considering that FiM has ended with no real knowledge of what happened with the Young 6, other than Gallus, so having Ocellus as a queen just fits and is possibly just my mind trying to grasp onto anything that indicates that the series is "still alive" even though the community is as active as ever and will probably rival the TF2 fanbase in terms of longevity and survival.
When I saw this, I was worried it was going to turn into a weight gain/loss/bulimia sort of thing.
I am so, SO glad it was way more than that.
Been debating back and forth on reading this story, not sure what I was getting into. But I'm sooooooooooo glad I clicked on this piece, like I really am. I have to say despite what some people say about describing the flavor of every emotion? It works wonders, Smolder's being the most fun descriptions.
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I had fun writing this, and it's been well-received enough that a sequel will inevitably happen.
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A surprisingly cute story, and I'm glad it was based on non-sexual love, or this would have had a bit of a different feel. As is, I love that its based on love between friends, and how supportive they are.
I admit the tastes did get a bit distracting, but still a very enjoyable fic.
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You’re free to disagree but nothing you say will change my mind.
Honestly I have nothing against the concept itself, though at the same time I don’t think Changelings can actually “taste” emotions or sense them in the way many people have portrayed, but in this case the author was going overboard with it.
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Fair enough.
This is a delectable story. Gallus and Ocellus are my fave members of the Student six. It's nice to see Bookbug in this interesting adventure.
Ewwwwwwwww
But also, d'awwwwww.
I loved the tasty emotion descriptions. It was fun imagining the tastes myself as I went along. Stories that describe things in unusual ways are always my favourites, and this one reminded me a lot of one of my favourite Homestuck characters.
(Yes, I'm a dirty Homestucker. Don't @ me)
One of these days I'll actually get around to watching the rest of mlp and meeting these guys...
While I sort of agree with Starlight Glimmer1 up there about not needing to describe every taste (I especially found some of them strange since I read this after I just ate a pot pie and dessert), I agree more with the general consensus that pointing them out I think enhanced the story as it was being told from Ocellus's perspective. It's something I honestly wouldn't mind see gaining some ground in the fandom (much like how 'wing boners' I'm sure started as a joke, but became something accepted among fans), and I wouldn't mind helping in that respect (if you don't mind that is).
I gotta admit, I was hesitant to give this a read at first since I wasn't keen on reading 'changling feeling under the weather' type of story, but I was pleasantly surprised it wasn't just that. This was a really cool read.
Ok I'm sure people are thinking it but when's the sequel coming out about them telling there parent's/a certain buzzird that needs a hammer in a golf swing arc someplace painful (yup still mad at him for what he said about gallus) and how they go about constructing a hive and then educating ponies on changeling anatomy and all that
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I have to strongly agree with Starlight Glimmer1 here. I honestly don't get the support behind the idea that changelings can taste every kind of emotions. After all, we have been shown in the show itself on many occasions that changelings couldn't detect lies and underlying emotions (such as in the episodes "Triple Threat", "The Heart's Warming Club" or s8 finale).
Furthermore, the author did go overboard with describing the taste while didn't really add any value to the story in doing so. Using food analogy to describe the tastes of the emotions must serve a purpose, for example to elaborate on Ocellus's preference to certain emotions, how she reacted (like/dislike) when she detected different emotions, how the changing taste or the overwhelming collision of many tastes at once affected her mood, or something of the like. As it is, the taste descriptions are just thrown in there for no purpose, leaving no impression on the readers and instead even making it distracting from the story flow.
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Fair enough. It doesn't work for everybody.
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Thank you.
That was sweet.
Parker! I have a secret just for you. Your story placed fourth.
This is probably the most ambitious, risky story of them all, and I really want to congratulate you on that. And that’s not backhanded: Aragon’s “viscerally cute” compliment was something all judges felt, one way or another. This made us physically ill, and we loved it.
But you asked for a review, so let’s do it.
First, pacing: It’s quite fast. But that’s not a bad thing, here. It’s something that threw me the first time around, but pacing is funny; as you know, not every story should go the same speed, and the art of pacing is more about balancing the slow and fast parts rather than “this story is too fast” or “too slow”. Cutting up your story into short scenes with big jumps in Ocellus’s condition between them worked really well for me. It’s a story about someone’s body falling apart for unknown reasons; there’s no use dwelling on it, and not giving the reader a chance to rest fits the mood. Great stuff.
The only place I think it does you harm is the ending. There’s a LOT introduced there. “Turns out we’re all changeling daddies” is a ballsy conclusion, but I think it’s missing a little more time to process what we’ve just learned. Especially for Ocellus’s friends. They take it in stride bizarrely well. It fits the general show theme, of being supportive of your friends, but this sounds like a hell of a commitment.
Also, side note: What was Thorax’s beef? That threw me a little, because it’s very primal of him, when I usually see him as a more pragmatic guy. And I could be wrong, but it kind of felt like you were trying to make the ending more climactic by having a fight scene? But the tension in this story lies in Ocellus’s condition, not from outside threats, so I would have liked to see the tension ramp up by more worsening of her sickness--nausea, headaches, fever dreams. All that fun stuff.
Secondly, Ocellus felt a little detached from her issue at times. It’s definitely on her mind (and in her mouth), but she doesn’t really seem to do anything to address it, apart from trying to sweat it out like a flu. But it’s very clear to the reader that it’s some sort of changeling illness that changelings get and maybe you should talk to a changeling about it this is getting drastic, girl. And even if she tries to carry on with her life, you would expect one of her friends to raise their race-specific appendage and say, “Maybe we should ask Thorax about this?”
Lastly, I wanted to talk about those tastes. They’re rad. It’s a neat headcanon, and it makes me wonder if other changelings would experience the same smell from the same emotion, or if it’s like a sort of qualia. But I do see some controversy surrounding it, so I wanted to bring it up. Me, personally? I thought it could have used some more restraint, and I wasn't the only judge who felt that way. Since the tastes don’t actually factor into the plot (if you took them out, the events wouldn’t change), they’re not a linchpin in your story, but story polish. And there ain't nothing wrong with a little polish. But here, it shows up a lot for just being polish.
But hey, at least one of our judges loved how much of the taste was there. So the mileage is gonna vary. I just wanted to comment on it.
And at the end of the day, your story ranked so high for a reason. Several reasons actually: the great character interactions, the snappy dialogue, the fact that you got all six of them in there without making it feel overstuffed (I adored the Silverstream scene), and the sheer creativity of it all. It was a great story to read, and I was thrilled to have it as part of the contest.
So thanks for submitting! I hope to read more of you in the future.
P.S. What does “burnt ozone” smell like? I’ve never heard of it, and after asking around, I’ve heard it smells like, A) baked bread, B) a hot plate that’s been left on too long, and C), the smell of fresh rain. What is this smell? Is it like the swiss army knife of literary smells? It’s just whatever you want it to smell like? I’M LOSING SLEEP OVER THIS HELP.
Well for me this story had two distinct parts. Or at least my emotions connected to it dissected it into two distinct parts.
The first was the classic fanfic writer falling in love with his own idea. Which is not neccearily bad they can have great ideas and who are going to love your ideas if not you? But in reality it almost always ends up badly. And so did in your case. This story was so overindulgent on itself as Ocellus was on love. You wrote down every single taste of every single emotion*, you just had to add at least two aggressively (almost stereotypically) XY-like line or action to every single appearance of every single character. (For example Yona had like one paragraph and she had to say two Yaks are best line.) They are really not necessary. It almost made me physically ill as if I ate too much of something. (which is really fitting, but still not a great thing. But it may have been effected by the fact that I'm currently experiencing some slight queasiness because I ate a bit too much)
Also I didn't feel like the story had a sense of direction. Things were just happening without any goal on the horizon, now that is partly my fault because I didn't read the title, but still I think a good a bit of that feeling would have remained even if I had. Maybe not. (Disclosure, direction doesn't mean I know what is going to happen, but rather that I'm sure something is going to happen)
I also disliked the way you handled the character of Ocellus. She just didn't care about her illness. Didn't try to find out what's going on didn't go to a doctor, nothing. She just went on with her life. I think this added the sense of lack of direction. If she doesn't care about her condition why should I?
I mean she was more preoccupied with her weight than her illness. Also your explanation as to why a shapeshifter would care about her weight was paper thin.
This all changed when Thorax and Pharynx showed up.** I finally realised where the whole thing was going (which of course solved the whole no direction problem) and your explanation about changeling reproduction was remarkably funny. I love it. I'm not a huge fan of this hippy commune thing that they seemed to set up all of a sudden as if they had nothing better to do, but as part of the last joke it was more than satisfactory. So good job I can't say I enjoyed the whole fic from top to bottom, but all in all it will be a pleasant memory.
*Obligatory salty chemist interval: Helium. Phisically. Can't. Have. A. Taste. Obligatory salty chemist interval over.
**Although I had to read that part like three times till I figured out what the fuck was going on when Pharanx went full ham. So not a great job at that part.
I absolutely adore your style and how well it went with your choice to show every emotion. The unique flavors and sensory details gave a unique impact on the story. However, this was nowhere near as fluffy or teen drama romance-y as I was hoping it would be, especially based on what some of the comments were saying. I'm aware that it absolutely wasn't your intention, and I'm not doing to downvote your story (please don't think that this is a downvote comment; I'm just not voting on it) but the story came across as incredibly horrific and rape-y with the thought of a teenager unknowingly getting pregnant multiple times over in ways she is powerless to stop while pleading for such changes not to be made.(not to mention, her friends unknowingly fertilizing her brood) It made for a very uncomfortable read, and one I don't want to revisit.
I did like the discussion about your changeling headcanons for different kinds of love having different kinds of love still works - as well as their capacity for funky gender roles.