//------------------------------// // The Obligatory Training Montage // Story: The First 'Prettiest Young Changeling' Contest // by Wise Cracker //------------------------------// “What do you mean, Scutum’s the model? I thought he was recovering from surgery?” Seta winced. “He is, but you know the funny thing about recovery? Eventually you recover. And, well, Scoots was around me and the girls for a long time, remember? He didn’t get phased out into recon like you did. He met the same ponies I did, and he got the same try-outs, mostly. He kind of got an offer recently, pretty much the same thing I got. It’s a pretty good deal, modelling pony clothes. Especially since, you know, he can show off three sizes and still look like the same pony. It’s hard work, but the pay is gonna be mint. I’m surprised none of us thought of that sooner, actually.” Ocellus chuckled. Scutum was a handsome boy, by changeling standards. His lithe body, grown deceptively strong in recent years, was mostly orange with some purple on the mane and tail, and said mane and tail were unlike those of most of his peers. Most young changelings had turned out with a dragonfly wing sort of structure to act as mane or tail, cosmetics, as some called them. Scutum was different: his cosmetics had more of a scaly texture, like a moth wing mohawk on his head, and a long rigid extension for a tail. His carapace was slightly different, too, in that it was more angular and bug-like rather than the round beetle shapes that were the norm in the Hive. “That’s… really nice to hear, actually. I’m glad he’s doing well.” Ocellus shook her head to clear it of any daydreaming. “Okay, but then why not let the other girls go with him? They’re not that bad.” Seta glared at Ocellus for a moment. Ocellus rolled her eyes. “Okay, point taken. But then why don’t you do it? You’re his sister, you won’t drive him nuts, and you could win, easily.” The older girl sighed. “Maybe, if I wasn’t too old to compete. I already asked Pharynx. They’re not asking for someone like me. They’re asking for girls the same age as Scoots, girls like you. And you’re the only girl I can ask.” Ocellus gritted her teeth. “Please?” Seta pleaded. “I know how much you like him.” “It’s almost like everyone knows, except him.” Seta smiled in a mix of sympathy and awkwardness, something Ocellus suspected she’d be doing soon enough with her own siblings. “Well, he doesn’t hate you, for one thing. I don’t know how he really feels about you. You’re not around often enough to get a read on it.” That remark hurt like a dagger to the chest. “I know, I know. I missed Hearth’s Warming. Gallus, he…” “I know,” Seta said. “But hey, if you win this, you can be with Scutum all you want for two weeks, and you’ll get to model for a statue, and your story will get recorded. Do you realise how big that would be? The two of you would be an example for little changelings everywhere. You’d have your whole world-saving deal written down someplace that doesn’t have vermin eating permanent records. And, you know, it’s not like you’re a bad example to follow. The fact that you like my brother is just icing on the cake.” “I’m not sure if I do like him that much, Seta. Or that way, I mean. Ever since we changed, ever since we got our new forms, he hasn’t looked at me the same,” Ocellus admitted. “What do you mean?” “Like… like he’s not sure if I’m the same girl he went to school with. Like he doesn’t remember, or he doesn’t recognise me. What if something changed, and I didn’t notice?” Seta nodded. “No real way to know, I suppose. Do you have any clues what it might be?” “No. I can’t figure it out, and I can’t figure out how I feel, either. It’s been… confusing.” “All the more reason you should try. Do something meaningful, together. Have a heart to heart. It might be something you understand, it might not be. But if it’s not, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you trying.” Ocellus shivered. For a cheerleader, Seta had a good grasp of logic. Stupid scholarship programs… “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. I’ll compete. But how am I supposed to win? I’m going to have to go up against Cutie, Sensilla, Trachea!” She froze. “For all I know, Trachea’s gonna try and kill me in my sleep!” “Nah, she won’t. I already talked to her, she’s gonna play fair. Something about her Nin-Donut or something.” Then again, maybe that education advantage isn’t as big as it looked. “That still doesn’t answer my question. How am I supposed to win?” Seta produced a copy of the rulebook. “Let’s start with what you like most: reading!” Ocellus let out a pouty grunt after she got through the rulebook. “Wow,” Seta said. “They’re being awfully specific. Why was there a whole bit about banana pudding?” “I’m not sure, but the part with the haybales, I can understand, at least.” “Yeah, that one made way more sense. Okay, so, now we know the events and the rules. Next step is to get you ready to compete in them! Starting with the ballroom gown interview. Do you have a gown at all?” Ocellus nodded. “I have one from my field trip to Canterlot. But I don’t know if that’ll be enough.” “Don’t worry: the gown just has to match you, it’s the interview that counts the most.” Ocellus tilted her head. “Hold on. Have you done these before?” “I’ve infiltrated pageants once or twice, quick solo missions in and out, but not contests like this. The interview stuff is pretty normal, though. You just have to prepare for the questions.” “I don’t think Trachea’s going to share the questions with me, Seta, if she can steal any in the first place.” Seta let out an unladylike chortle. “Psh, why would you wanna steal them? They’re predictable. Look, no one ever asks a tough question at these things. Like, say: why do you want to win this pageant?” Ocellus blinked and thought for a moment. “Because you told me to?” “No! Because you want to be a shining example for changeling girls everywhere!” “We only have one Hive, Seta,” Ocellus argued. “Changeling girls ‘everywhere’ just means all the changeling girls here. And I don’t think they’ll see me as a shining example just because I beat them.” “Meh, it worked for Pharynx after his little free-for-all with his recruits.” There, she had to concede the point. “Okay. I want to win because I want to be a shining example for changeling girls everywhere.” “Perfect. Another fun question: What makes you unique?” “I can read?” “That’s not unique, Ocellus.” “At my level? It kind of is. Which is a little worrying, actually, and kind of depressing.” Ocellus stifled a shudder. “Focus, Ocellus! Do you want future generations of ponies to see Cuticle as a prime example of a changeling girl?” “Cuticle…” Ocellus hissed. “Okay, umm, what makes me unique is how I help my friends be the best they can be!” She forced out a peppy smile like what she’d learned from cheerleading practice. It was awkward, it was fake. “Perfect,” Seta said. “Where do you expect to be in five years?” “Graduating from the School of Friendship, maybe still be in Ponyville?” “No!” Seta shouted. “You expect to be in a steady relationship, following higher education, and pursuing a career. You’re gonna have it all, and you’ll look great doing it. That’s the answer they expect.” Ocellus tilted her head. “I thought we stopped pursuing career ponies after that executive marathon disaster?” “Not career ponies: a career. The job you’re going to do when you grow up. You do know what job you’re gonna get, right?” Ocellus felt her heart sink. “Umm… no?” “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You love reading, you love books. You’ll be a librarian, and you’ll look great doing it. I’m sure the contest ponies will have a sexy librarian outfit ready for you by tomorrow if you wanna use that for a costume.” “I don’t know if I really want to look, umm… that word? I’m probably not old enough for that.” Seta nodded as she realised. “Right, you never visited Califoalnia. Hmm, well at least that rules out about a dozen diseases you could’ve picked up. Maybe that’s a good question to prepare for, too: if you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” “Gosh, I don’t know. I’ve already been to Canterlot, and Ponyville. I never got to go to the Crystal Empire library, though.” “Perfect, go with that, lean into the librarian look. That’ll really pull the rug out from under the judges once you get to the swimsuit portion.” Her left eye twitched. “Swimsuit portion?” Ocellus and Seta stood before one of the few pools of water in the Hive’s territory. It was far enough away from the main hill to be private, but close enough not to be dangerous. Ocellus had her swimsuit on: a sleek and shiny green onepiece that hugged her body like a tight coccoon, kept her wings open through a hole in the back, while perfectly drawing the eye to regions she preferred not to name outside of an anatomy class. She certainly didn’t like admitting the fact that she enjoyed wearing it, and she especially did not like to be reminded of when and why she’d bought it in the first place. “That’s a pretty nice suit,” Seta said. Ocellus dreaded the next part. “Did you pick that out for yourself?” Not exactly the question she’d been expecting, but still a big red flag. “Yeah, kind of. M-me and my friends, we, umm, we went shopping a few times in Canterlot, and we needed some outfits to go on a field trip to Rainbow Falls. Lots of water there, you know, some fun slides, but not the sort of thing you want to do with a bare, umm…” “Right. Well, it looks nice, it shows off your assets. That’ll help.” Seta flipped a hoof through her webby mane, showing off her own two-piece that left her neck nice and exposed, as well as leaving her taut muscles on display. Ocellus gulped, and idly wondered if Scutum was already spoken for, and Seta just didn’t know it. Hanging out with cheerleaders all the time, a boy that handsome, even with a caring big sister like her, it was certainly possible one of the younger ponies had already made a move. Scutum was still a changeling, after all, and keeping secrets was in their nature. Seta didn’t notice the pondering. “Now, the swimsuit portion of a beauty contest is a little controversial these days. Something about turning girls into statues or something, but since we don’t turn kids to stone, that’s nothing to worry about.” Ocellus considered that for a moment, and quickly decided Seta simply didn’t know what the actual meaning of ‘objectifying’ was. Not that she minded either way: Ocellus had done quite a lot of observation in the field during that Rainbow Falls trip, and most boys she’d seen made it very obvious they enjoyed her reaction. She blushed at the thought. The idea that any boy would want her attention, even if it was for a moment, made her heart flutter. Maybe she did stand a chance, then. “Stop daydreaming, Celly, this is important,” Seta snapped. “Yes, Ma’am.” Ocellus went rigid as a board and stared straight ahead. “Now, the swimsuit portion usually focuses on showing off physical fitness. You want your suit to draw the eye to what’s important. So, what part of your body looks the hottest?” Ocellus gave that a moment’s thought. “My wings.” She opened up her beetle shields and flared out her flappers through the hole in her suit’s back. “They are biggest surface area, and they catch the maximum amount of sunlight.” Seta glared. “Cute, but wrong. Which part of you looks the most attractive? Which part is in the best shape? What’s getting hugged the snuggest by that suit?” The younger changeling groaned to herself. “I’m not a jock, Seta. Even in my swimsuit, I still look, you know, childish. I don’t think I have anything that’s, umm… that word.” “Sexy?” Ocellus shivered. “Yeah, that. I don’t get how you can say that so easily. You know I’m only as old as your brother, right?” Seta nodded and smiled. “I do. And you know that’s the age you usually start thinking about that sort of thing, right?” “Is it? It’s been a while since I read anything about developmental psychology.” Seta rubbed her temples with her hooves. “Okay, bad example. I guess some changelings grow up a little more slowly than others. Bottom line is: you’re gonna go up against girls who know what looks good, so you need to know what looks good on you, too.” “That does sound a little objectifying, to be honest.” “Oh yeah?” Seta shook her head. “Tell me, back in Ponyville, did you ever watch the boys playing sports, of any kind? Did you ever go to a gym or a game?” “Sure. They look so dreamy when they flex their forelegs and their haunches get all tense when they rear up for a kick-” She shook her head. “That is totally different! I only needed to know that for anatomy studies.” “Uhuh. Okay, so think about anatomy. Which part of your anatomy is worth showing off? What’s prettier on you than it is on other girls?” Ocellus looked down at herself. Arms? Gangly. Legs? Slender, but not in an elegant way. Belly? Flat, sure, but then so were most in the Hive, stupid starvations. None of it felt hot. None of it felt attractive in the physical sense. She was old enough to feel the beginnings of a physical attraction, yes, much to her embarrassment, but to use her own powers of attraction? To try and look good? She hadn’t grown into any ‘assets’ as Seta referred to them. In fact, the only thing that was truly different in her was… “You know, I do hear I have pretty eyes. It’s not, umm, hot, but I can do cute. Cute’s good, right?” The cheerleader rubbed her chin, thinking. “Hmm… not what I was expecting, but we can work with that. Okay, then: let’s work on drawing the eye to, well, your eyes. Let me see you flutter and wink!” Ocellus gulped, took a deep breath, then tried a strut, swishing her front and hind legs around like she’d seen some dancers do at the Ponyville Farmer’s Fair. “Oh, wow, you are a natural,” Seta said. “Now do the eyes.” Gritting her teeth, Ocellus tried fluttering her eyelashes. “Not like that: that makes you look like you’ve wandered into a dust cloud.” Again, Ocellus tried to flutter, more slowly this time, and threw in a little wiggle of her wings to boot. “Better, but you’re still not selling it. Try smiling while you do it.” She wanted to throw up, she felt so embarrassed. But still, she persisted, and took one strut, two struts, eyelash flutter, and a wing wiggle, with a smile wide enough to qualify for a horror movie villain or a Pinkie Pie replacement. “Perfect!” Seta cheered. “Now do that five hundred more times to get the hang of it.” Ocellus groaned. “And why do we need to do this in a swimsuit again?” “Eh, probably because it looks nice, or maybe because they’ll want us to swim afterwards. You can swim, right? You and Scutum went to the same classes back when I was doing the whole, you know…” That took Ocellus back down memory lane. Scutum looked so cute pretending to be a colt in school. They never went on a replacement mission together, but they got to pick their own forms instead. He usually played the part of adorable little brother to Seta’s infiltration persona, giving him a steady diet of kind affections and attempts at embarrassment. Not that he needed his sister’s presence, either: he was an avid reader, though more of fiction, even pulp, than Ocellus was. He also had a good grasp of the arts, especially when it came to sketching. His linework and mastery of greyscales matched perfectly with his fake cutie mark of an inkwell and a blank sheet of paper. It even matched the look of his persona most of the time: he always went for simple greyscale coats and manes. She’d seen a Pegasus colt around Ponyville with similar though less pronounced colours, but she was pretty sure that boy didn’t get that much attention from the girls, except perhaps Sweetie Belle, but that was a mix between warm loving adoration and red-hot frustration every time he walked past. Ponies were weird like that, fillies doubly so. Snapping out of her revery, she rubbed her already sore cheeks. “Yup, until they found that quarterback unconscious and figured out they had infiltrators.” “Which is so unfair: that wasn’t even us. Anyway, once you’re done with that, let’s see how well you can swim. You never know if Pharynx has any weird ideas about this event, and I’m not taking any chances.” “Okay. And after that?” “We’ll work on your talent show performance. Have you thought about what to do for that?” “I guess I could try my cheerleading routine again?” Seta nodded gravely. “That’s gonna take a lot of practice. Eye flutters first, then swimming, then cheerleading.” She thought for a second. “Actually, you know what? Let’s multi-task. Get in the water, do your eye-flutters and show me your cheerleading underwater.” “What?! I can’t do cheerleading underwater.” “You’re a shapeshifter, Ocellus, grow some gills! Do you want Cuticle to win?” Even without chlorinated water in them, Ocellus felt her eyes turn red. “Cuticle…” she hissed, before diving into the water. She popped her head up for a moment. “Wait. How long do I have to do this?” Seta snorted and glared. “Until it’s good enough.” What happened? I feel like I just pulled an all-nighter. Ocellus felt her body betray her as memories came back. She’d nodded off for a few seconds, or blacked out, it was hard to tell. She remembered Seta telling her to practise her routines until it was good enough. Once it was ‘good enough,’ Ocellus had headed to her room to dry off. But her uniform had called to her. The one time she’d felt like she had a real voice. The one time she felt pretty, like she belonged with the popular girls, and not as an impostor. Against her own better judgement, when faced with her own anxieties, she never stood a chance. Sundown had come and gone, and Ocellus was still at it. Standing split, pompom shake, backflip, ballet twirl… she’d done it all countless times, in any number of permutations. She remembered resting her head for a second. She did not remember that second turning into an hour. She got back on her hooves and contemplated practising some more. Her arms were getting tired. Her legs were getting wobbly. If she kept this up, she’d be too tired for the contest. Resigning herself to a break, Ocellus dropped her pompoms and stared out at the night sky through one of the holes in the Hive. She looked up and furrowed her brow when she noticed an oddity in the sky. Huh. Was Orion’s Belt sagging yesterday? She chuckled to herself. There were no shooting stars to make a wish to, but a celestial rarity like that, she might as well. I hope I win tomorrow. I hope Scutum still likes me. It’d be nice to figure out these feelings, at least. “Storytime! Storytime!” came a cry from the other room. Her mother, Cornea, came in and gestured to the books Ocellus had collected over the years, both undercover and in the open. “You heard them, honey. Fillyform and Tarsus want a story, and they’ll only accept one from you.” She smiled and gestured to the other room. “If you’re not feeling up to it, though, I understand. I can take over for tonight if you want me to.” Her heart fluttered. Even if she didn’t feed off of it like she used to, Ocellus could feel her mother’s love. No judgement, no pressure (aside from the little bits that, all things considered, Ocellus didn’t mind so much), just a calm, warm, and accepting love, mixed with an unusual bit of admiration. She pondered where that might have come from, before realising she still had her cheerleader outfit on. That glittery purple and teal uniform, that made her look and feel like a pretty girl. Pretty girl, not a smart girl. She quickly took it off and folded it neatly on her bed. “No, I’ll do it.” Ocellus walked over to her makeshift book case and pulled out a used book she’d gotten from Headmare, now Princess, Twilight. What story should I read tonight? Maybe Seta was right, and I am a librarian deep down. Probably not a good sign, unless there’s some multiclassing I can do into cheerleader. Is it level-based, I wonder? Can you just stop being what you are and be something else? If you can, then what does it mean to be anything? Guess it boils down to what you decide on, really. “Storytime, Ocellus!” came a cry from the other room. Better decide quickly, then. She grabbed a book, without even thinking about it, and flipped to the right page. “The Land With No Apples. They haven’t heard this one yet.” Book held in her magic, she walked over to her siblings, two little nymphs, twin brother and sister. One was a yellowish green, the other a dark pink. They perked up when they saw her, as they always did, and they perked up even more when they saw their mother behind her. Deep down, Ocellus supposed they knew the difference, but they never brought it up. “Okay, you two,” she started. “Storytime, then off to sleep, okay?” “Okay, sis,” said Tarsus. “Promise,” Fillyform added. Ocellus smiled as she opened the book. The pictures in it were old-fashioned, as stories with a traditional moral often were. “Once upon a time, in a land long forgotten by pony kind, there was an Earth pony, and like a lot of Earth ponies, he was a merchant.” She waited for her little brother and sister to ooh at the picture of the faerie tale city. “That means he bought and sold things to earn his money.” She was very careful not to use the phrase ‘make money,’ as that had gotten a fair number of changelings in trouble after some very special craft time projects and a friendly visit from the Equestrian Revenue Service. “One day, this merchant ran into one of his suppliers, a fruit seller.” She pointed to the pony with a cart full of strawberries, blueberries, melons, apples, and pears. “And he noticed his old friend had a lot more coin on him than usual. So, of course, he asked why. An inheritance, a lucky gamble, or perhaps a rare fruit he’d managed to sell?” “You know, it’s the darnedest thing,” Ocellus narrated, imitating the fruit seller. “I got lost on my way East, and I stumbled into a little city state on the edge of the desert. I was lucky to have all my goods intact, I tell you. Of course I tried to sell my wares, what was left of them, but only the apples went for a high price. Because wouldn’t you know it? These ponies had never tasted apples!” Tarsus gasped. “No apples? But ponies love apples!” “I know,” Ocellus replied. “But, as the fruit seller explained, this was a city state that was isolated. They didn’t get a lot of contact with their neighbours, so they were out of the loop on a lot of things. And our merchant, well, he saw an opportunity there.” “And those apples went for a nice price, then?” Ocellus mimicked the merchant’s voice again. “I’ll say. My apples made it all the way to the throne room. And let me tell you: this land with no apples is ruled by a fair and just King. He does not suffer swindlers, and he pays a fair price, always.” Ocellus giggled as the two little changelings tried to clamber closer to the pictures. “Can you guess what happened next?” “He got some apples to sell?” Tarsus suggested. “He did. Our merchant went and bought as many apples as he and his family could carry, and then he went on a long and difficult trip to find this Land With No Apples. But that wasn’t the only thing he bought up. He went and found some saplings of apple trees: grafted plants ready for an orchard. Because if apples went for such a high price, it was only a matter of time before the ponies would ask for an apple tree of their own.” She turned the page. “Our clever merchant went before the King and presented his wares like any good salespony would.” “These are the best fruits you’ve ever tasted, Your Highness. They can be sweet, sour, soft, hard. Eaten alone, they are a prime source of refreshment. Baked into pies, they are a delicacy. Covered in molten sugar, a decided pick-me-up after a long day.” “The King made sure the apples were checked for their quality, and our clever merchant expected no less. That very night, a feast was prepared with the new bounty of apples: apple pies, apple fritters, caramel apples, and all the nobles of the court agreed that this was good food, worth its weight in gold, and the merchant should be compensated justly. They also agreed that the merchant had been polite and respectful in bringing apple trees, for the King did not want his ponies to be deprived of this new fruit, not if he could help it. For that, too, a just reward was in order.” If the little ones caught the reason why Ocellus emphasised that last part, they didn’t show it. So much the better, she figured. “First, the king ordered his vaults to be filled with the rest of the apples, so they wouldn’t spoil. The King With a Vault Full of Apples then, of course, asked his wisest and most trusted advisors how to repay this revelation and this kindness. And so it was that the clever merchant went home with a bag full of diamonds and precious gems, as well as a chest of gold that would be carried by two porters, now in his service. Besides that, it was decided that this pony was now considered a friend of the court, and would be welcome to return to the markets when he pleased.” “Wow,” said Fillyform. “That’s a lot just for a load of apples.” “Well, hold on, there’s more. The king planted the trees, and found that they mostly didn’t grow in desert soil. But, as luck would have it, there was a patch where the trees took root and thrived. That means they grew really well. So, while it would take years for the kingdom to have its own apples, and many more for a regional variety to develop, thanks to the merchant the kingdom was now no longer a Kingdom with No Apples.” “So the merchant made everyone happy, even though he did it for himself. That’s a nice story,” Tarsus said. “Ah, but not everyone was happy.” Ocellus turned the page. “There was another merchant, who heard of this, and he thought to himself: ‘Well, if they like apples so much, they’ll love pears! Pears are juicier, stronger in flavour, superior to apples in every way. And what a fool to give them trees, why let them grow their own? Doesn’t he know that common things are worthless and rare things are precious? Keep them wanting, that’s the ticket. All I need do is get a small stock and I can fleece them for whatever I want!’” Ocellus felt a tinge of pride when Fillyform’s nose curled in disgust. Tarsus just tilted his head, thinking. “And so he did,” Ocellus continued. “This greedy merchant didn’t bother buying up all the pears, just enough for him to carry and make a single feast. Not needing any help from his family, and not wanting to share, he gathered up his bags and trekked on his own to the Land of a Few Apple Trees In The Near Future. He went before the King and made his case.” “Your Highness, I bring you a superior fruit, better than any apple,” Ocellus said in a different voice. “A pear is juicier, its flavour drips from its very core. Surely you must agree that a single pear is worth more than ten apples?” The twins went silent, pondering. They had that same clever streak Ocellus had, though Tarsus was more of a schemer and Fillyform was even more of a planner than her sister was. Both were engrossed in the tale, clearly trying to guess what the next page might say. “The King went to his advisors again, seeing the bags of pears delivered to him. He couldn’t refuse the offer, for he was a just and fair King who treated everyone equally. But at the same time, he couldn’t empty his gold reserves even for this many pears, rare though they may be. The King had only one solution: to pay for the pears with the one thing in the kingdom more valuable than gold.” “Gems?” asked Fillyform. “Platina?” asked Tarsus. Ocellus shook her head, turned the page, and revealed a miserable pony with a worthless cargo. “And so it was that the greedy merchant went home with a buttload of apples.” The two little changelings giggled and rolled back onto their beds. “Now, the lesson here, you two, is simple: learn from what someone else does. Be fair, but don’t let yourself get swindled. And most important of all: be careful what you wish for. The end.” She closed the book. “Now be good and go to sleep, okay?” She kissed them both on the forehead before tucking them in. “Good night, sis,” Tarsus said. “Thanks for the story,” Fillyform added. “Good night.” Ocellus sighed once she was out of earshot. Her mother had heard. “You really are good at that, you know.” “I know.” The exertions of the day caught up to her as she flopped onto her bed. Twirl, standing stretch, pompom toss, her body reminded her of all the things she’d put it through with little aches and reflex twitches. She paid them no heed: a shapeshifter controls her body, after all, not the other way around. She tried to relax on her bed, another import to the Hive. The soft pillows were a relatively recent addition, but a much-needed one. She snorted when she caught sight of her neatly folded cheerleader uniform. “Something wrong, honey?” her mother asked. “No, I was just thinking it’s a shame storytelling isn’t any good in a beauty contest.”