//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 - Paradise Frosting // Story: Changelings, Love and Lollipops // by Georg //------------------------------// Changelings, Love and Lollipops Chapter 12 Paradise Frosting There was something about the morning that woke the disguised changeling before Pinkie Pie’s alarm clocks. It could have been the familiar pain in his belly. It could have been the sound of pots and pans being readied downstairs in the Sugarcube Corner kitchen as Carrot and Cup Cake prepared for the morning rush. It could have been the hooting of an owl outside the window, who had peeked in and seen something he probably should not have. Or it could have been that the pink sleeping bag he was tucked into had somehow overnight gone from an occupancy limit of one to two. If it were possible to be closer to Pinkie Pie and not have sex, he was not quite sure how that could be managed. Her nose was buried in his yellow furry neck, with both forehooves wrapped around his back, and even their tails were intertwined down in the bottom of the fuzzy sleep-sack. It was nice, but… well, it was far better than nice, trending above cuddled and bumping dangerously into erotic territory involving phrases such as ‘all night long’ and ‘never knew a weathervane could be used that way.’ If he were still able to absorb love magic, it would even be considered breakfast and lunch. Still surprised that he was still alive, the changeling tried not to shift his position as he reached out with his magic to silently turn off each of Pinkie Pie’s alarm clocks. After all, if she reacted the same way as last morning, she would probably break his neck when they went off. Which still left one important problem. How do I wake her up? Well, other than sex. The question occupied some time. Despite the familiar shooting pain in his gut, nothing was pinched or had fallen asleep, except for his jailor. Even as pink as the embrace was, it did not raise his previous revulsion for the color as the last few days had. In fact, the scent of her mane was relaxing, and the little grunting noise she made while nosing into the white and red of his own disguised mane took away all of the incentive he had for attempting to escape the sleeping bag. * * * “It’s called a Pinkei Trap, Your Highness,” said the armored soldier as he pointed to the military Research and Development’s latest discovery. “You see, the changeling is attracted by the scent and emotions of a mare in heat. He crawls into this cloth tube here, and is promptly ensnared by the amorous female here, thus rendering him defenseless.” “Very neat and tidy,” said Celestia, towering over the test trap and the sample subjects. “What happens then?” “Well, we reset the trap by popping the changeling over the head and dragging him away,” said the soldier, raising the butt end of his spear and cracking the helpless changeling on the temple. * * * “Pinkie!” Carrot Cake paused while looking into the quiet room and the empty bed, eventually looking down at the overstuffed sleeping bag and the apologetic changeling. “I’m trying to figure out how to wake her up without getting killed,” whispered the changeling. Carrot stayed still for a very long time, eventually looking up from the sleeping bag to the cracked ceiling and back down to the changeling. After a few more moments of contemplation and the apparent desire for a large mug of coffee or a camera, he rolled his eyes and whispered back, “Pops, you just need to incentivize her. When I’m trying to get Cup out of bed, I tell her I’m going to make coffee.” The changeling raised one furry yellow eyebrow in confusion and Carrot Cake smiled in a way that the changeling knew was going to be painful. “Pinkie,” called Carrot, “aren’t you going to get ready for Mister Tolliver’s party this afternoon?” There was a sudden yipe, a blur of pink, and the changeling found himself upside-down against the bedroom wall and wearing Pinkie Pie’s pajamas. The sounds of brushing teeth, combing mane, and face washing all came out of the bathroom simultaneously, and then Pinkie was past in a blur, shouting, “Hurry up! We need to get ready for your party!” After turning himself back upright and checking to make sure he still had all of his limbs, the changeling winced and held a hoof to his stomach. “I’m sorry, Carrot. I don’t think I’ll be much help in the kitchen. My stomach is really bothering me this morning.” Carrot Cake shook his head, ducking out of the doorway for a moment and returning with a large mug labelled ‘Pops - Employee of the Month’ and emitting the tantalizing scent of chamomile tea. “We’ve been around Pinkie a long time. I think it’s rubbing off.” * * * There was a distinct advantage of wearing a unicorn disguise, considered Pops as he drank from his personalized mug and floated fresh cupcakes out of the oven at the same time. It used up whatever leftover love he had internalized as magic at a discouraging pace, but he did not have to run around the room at the same hectic pace as Pinkie Pie. If they had both been running around the crowded room, the possibility of collision would have been a near certainty and at a velocity that might throw off subatomic particles, even though the impact would be soft and cushioned in pink. “Pops!” she sang as she danced over to the mixer and threw in what seemed to be totally random ingredients. “Rhymes with mops and stops and hops and flops and tops!” She paused with her nose buried in his mane to take an appreciative sniff. “And you smell like crinkleberries.” “You used your crinkleberry shampoo on me last night,” he responded. “I wasn’t even aware there were crinkleberries.” “Don’t be silly,” she giggled as she tossed another cupcake pan onto the table and began shuffling cupcake papers into the recesses just as rapidly as a Las Pegasus gambler dealing cards. “How would they make crinkleberry shampoo if there were no crinkleberries?” A week ago, I would have been baffled. Today it makes sense. I must be going faint from hunger, but I don’t care. I’m going out happy, with a party, and smelling of crinkleberries, whatever they are. Pinkie Pie stopped her rapid dash around the room with a gasp. “Do you think it’s your birthday too?” “Changelings really don’t celebrate birthdays,” said the changeling, “but I think it would be in a few weeks anyway, so we can have the party cover both!” “Yeah!” The changeling watched Pinkie Pie dance through the kitchen with a glow in his chest that almost covered up the pain in his gut. Feeding on love only gave a shadow of the originating emotion, but causing happiness seemed to feed back through his disguise and down to the tips of his hooves. It was a wonderful sensation that he only wished he could have learned years ago instead of right before the end. Pinkie skidded to a halt in front of him with a grin larger than ever before. “Pinatas?” “Yes?” he promoted, trying to remember what a pinata was. “Great!” She whipped out a checklist and marked off one box with pink icing the way normal ponies would use a pencil. “Pin the Tail on the Pony, Twister, Karaoke, a ball pit, a bounce house, or Prance Prance Revolution?” “Yes!” he declared, deciding that a good answer was too good to throw away just because you didn’t understand the question. That is the happiest dance that I have ever see— One pink hoof sticking out of the whirling dance of joy snagged him into a blur of happiness that swirled around the kitchen, out into the dining area, briefly into the darkened streets, and back into the kitchen, with happy singing all the way. Vaguely, he found himself singing along, and somewhat disappointed that there were only two other ponies out on the dark streets to dance along with them, although several windows had been thrown open and happy voices had emerged. Once he was back in the kitchen and he had caught his breath, he managed to stammer out a rather brief, “That was—” “Streamers!” cried Pinkie. “I need to get more streamers for the party. Fortunately I have streamers cached all over Ponyville for such emergencies. I’ll be right back!” There was a blur of pink, the slamming of the door, and the changeling found himself alone in the kitchen again. After that display, I better hang on until after the party or she’s going to prop my body up at the end of the table. With a party hat. He actually found himself whistling as he popped the cupcakes into the oven and set the timer, a bubbly emotion that swept him through the morning baking and made the pain in his belly almost ignorable. Like a pink yo-yo, Pinkie would periodically whirl through the kitchen with decorations and singing, sticking around at most for a stanza or a chorus before zipping away to parts unknown. She still kept him tied to the mixing machine, but lengthened the leash enough so that he could reach the table and call out the door to the counter when another load of cupcakes was ready for sale. And sell they did. Between the cupcakes for the party tonight and the ones selling out front, he found his magic taxed to the limit keeping paper-lined trays of raw dough flowing into the oven and the flurry of oven mitts keeping the brown intermediate product flowing out. Pink icing flared green in his magical aura, spreading out over entire trays at once in perfect thin layers, and then perfect thicker layers once he realized how good it tasted and how much the ponies loved it. Sprinkles were applied abundantly, from natural alfalfa seeds and popped sorghum all the way to sugary crystals of honey and… well, sugar. Gumdrop tops seemed popular, until he ran out of gumdrops and Pinkie Pie went streaking out into town on a replacement mission, returning mere seconds later with enough gumdrops to placate an army. The pain in his stomach grew almost inconsequential, subdued by nearly a gallon of tea and frequent trips to the bathroom to deal with the aftermath. Although he was always careful to tie himself back to the ribbon once he had finished and washed his hooves. As the lunch rush was dying down and a surplus of cupcakes was cooling on the rack, something unusual slowly became clear. He watched carefully as he spread a layer of icing across the sunflower-and-applesauce cupcakes, trying to make sense of the little green sparkles that were left after the icing was applied. It was familiar somehow, and it took until the last tray had been frosted and set aside for the party until he realized what it was. Love. I’m putting love into the frosting. I probably barely have enough love to last until the party this afternoon, and I’m burning it on cupcakes. “Hey, Pops!” called Carrot Cake from the doorway. “We’ve hit a slack spot, and Honeybun has an gynecological appointment in a few minutes. Can you cover the counter until we get back?” “Sure thing, Carrot,” he called back out of reflex. “Thank you!” Carrot and Cup looked a little bedraggled when he walked out of the back room and tied himself to the cash register, both seeming more than happy to get a few minutes away from the endless line of ponies holding bits, and Cup even gave him a little kiss on the cheek before they left. “Thank you, Mister Tolliver. You’ve been so much help lately, like Celestia herself sent you to watch over us.” More like Shining Armor and Princess Cadenza. He smiled back, actually meaning it. “Thank you, Missus Cake, for giving me a chance.” It was a few minutes later as he was serving the line of smiling customers that he realized the store was empty of Cakes and Pies, although it did have a considerable number of cupcakes. All it would have taken is a quick step into another room, a changeling spell, and some anonymous pony could trot away into the distance. He could even take as many bits as he wanted out of the overflowing cash register. Then what? Even if I could fly home and possibly squeeze out a few drops of love, it is far better to stay here and bring happiness to hundreds of ponies in my final hours. As the afternoon sun moved through the sky, the line in front of Sugarcube Corner had thinned out to just a few ponies, then a sprinkling, and finally just one or two dropping in at a time. Pinkie Pie had left to inflate the bouncy house and load the ball pit, which she said was going to take some time, but it seemed like she had been gone forever. He missed the sound of her happy voice, the pink of her bouncing, and the smell of crinkleberries. “Excuse me. I said I’d like a daisy muffin and a Celestia-sized coffee please.” He blinked away the pink and looked at his next customer, a familiar purple unicorn with bleary eyes and a vicious scowl, who had a familiar small dragon standing to her side. “And one of those!” said the little dragon, pointing into the display case with greedy eyes and a small drip of saliva from his protruding tongue. “Can I get emerald sprinkles, Twilight? Please?” “Whatever. One of those too, Mister—” Bleary violet eyes looked up, focused onto his name tag, and blinked “—Tolliver.” He could actually see the idea percolate through her head, being processed for content and possibilities as the various ear-flicks and eye-twitches progressed into a final strand of her distressed mane springing up with an almost audible ‘sproing!’ “Changeling!” she screamed, grabbing him in her magic and pinning him against the wall. “Spike! Take a letter! No, this is too important! Take a memo!” Little crackles of violet magic ripped across his disguise, tearing it away until he was in his original form with only the apron and the nametag to show that he had been the same yellow unicorn at the counter. “Um, Twilight?” prompted the little dragon, poking her in the side. “Quiet, Spike! Dear Princess Celestia, Ponyville is being invaded! By changelings! Make sure you tell her they’re changelings! Even my enchantments on the jail can’t hold them!” “Twilight!” This is important!” Spike prodded her harder in the ribs, which seemed to only drive the panicked unicorn into grabbing her prey in a stronger grip and slamming him against the wall again in a cloud of plaster dust. “I know this is important, Spike! We have to spread the word that there’s a changeling loose in town before…” The panicked unicorn slowed to a halt as she read the banner stretched across Sugarcube Corner’s dining area. “Come to ‘Pops’ Tolliver’s Welcome To Ponyville Sorry You’re Going To Prison Because You’re A Changeling And We’ll Miss You Party Tonight. Is this a joke?!” “We’re going to have karaoke,” he managed to croak despite the magic that still held him pinned to the wall. “And Prance Prance Revolution. Whatever that is.” There was a quick cheer from a pony out in the dining area, whom Twilight Sparkle glared at with unspeakable vehemence. “You knew he was a changeling?” “Well, duh,” said a mint-green unicorn over by the window. “We all do. You need to get out of the library more often, Twilight. Besides, he’s been sleeping with Pinkie Pie for the last two days.” Those bloodshot violet eyes swung in his direction again, and the changeling cringed. “We haven’t been having sex,” he blurted out. “She just keeps me tied to the bed. And we wash each other’s back in the bathtub.” “Sounds reasonable,” said Spike. “Twilight always makes sure my back is washed. Now, about that cupcake. I was thinking emerald sprinkles and a ruby top.” It took considerable coaxing from the dragon and the offer of a second and third complimentary cupcake before Twilight Sparkle slouched over to a table to devour her purchase and stare. Even then, she took notes when he used his changeling magic to put his unicorn disguise back on, and kept her quill next to the paper in the event he were to do something threatening, like skimp on the cupcake icing or add extra foam to some customer’s coffee. It felt a little creepy to be studied in that fashion, as if he were some sort of dangerous bug that needed a pin and a scientific tag. Still, he shrugged it off and continued to serve customers until Pinkie bounded through the front door and was promptly captured in the unicorn’s magic and dragged over to her table. Changelings not only have very good hearing, but a lifetime of filtering out multiple conversations in the same enclosed area. Keeping one yellow ear turned to the two mares, the changeling continued to mind the cash register and deal with incoming customers while listening intently. “Spike,” hissed Twilight Sparkle, “go back to the library.” “Aww,” moaned the little dragon. “Now?” “Yes, now!” While the little dragon was dragging out of the bakery, the changeling grabbed one of the cupcakes from the display, dumped a heaping pile of crushed emeralds on it with two rubies on top, and floated it over to him. From gloomy to giddy in one cupcake. Even if I can’t sense emotions any more, I can still make others happy for the next few hours, and nothing can take that away. Once the little dragon was out of the bakery and Twilight Sparkle had given him an additional fuming glare for spoiling her pet dragon, she turned back to Pinkie Pie and hissed, “I can’t believe you slept with him!” “Yeah, I know,” said Pinkie Pie. “It was hard.” “Of course,” harrumphed Twilight. “I know he was manipulating you, and you fought it as hard as you could—” “No, I mean it was really hard, and kept banging into me whenever we shifted positions.” There was a substantial pause in the conversation to the point where the changeling actually spared the two mares a quick glance. The unicorn looked boggled, croggled, baffled, and a little perplexed. I’m so glad I’m not the only one that Pinkie does that to. “I’m not sure I want to know about that, Pinkie,” said Twilight Sparkle in a very slow and deliberate manner. “Well, I thought I should ask you about it,” said Pinkie. “After all, you know everything about everything, and if anybody knows how to sleep with something that hard banging into you at night, it would be Twilight. Or Rarity. Do you want me to go ask Rarity instead?” The marshmallow who ran screaming up the stairs? Yeah, she’s a wonderful one to ask about sex with a changeling. He could actually hear Twilight Sparkle shudder. “No, you’re a friend, and a good friend can always be counted on to be there when you need it, no matter how embarrassing the situation.” “Thanks, Twilight. You’re the besties! Now, when you’re sleeping, how do you keep from banging your head against a coltfriend’s horn. I mean it pokes out right there, and rubs across the top of my mane when we—” “Horn?” The conversation in the rest of the dining area took on a distinct lowering in volume, as if suddenly there were a lot more ponies attempting to eavesdrop on the soon-to-be-interesting conversation. “Well, duh!” said Pinkie. “What did you think?” “Oh, thank Celestia,” said Twilight in a voice that might possibly have been heard as far as Canterlot. “I thought he was trying to have intercourse with you.” The resulting silence was so incredibly quiet that he could hear Twilight Sparkle’s ears blushing, and it was only with the application of considerable willpower that he continued to count his current customer’s change instead of reacting. One giggle, one chortle or snort of amusement, and there’s going to be changeling blood all over the walls. * * * ”Your Most Royal Highness,” announced an overstuffed pony in a postal service uniform, “your student, Twilight Sparkle, has sent you the changeling that was infesting Ponyville.” He floated over an envelope with a few grams of ash in it, which wafted away on the breeze as Celestia opened it and checked for a note. “Well, she seems to have taken care of the problem by herself,” said Celestia. * * * “Well,” hissed Twilight Sparkle in a considerably quieter voice that the changeling could barely hear. “Did he?” “Well…” said Pinkie. “Wait!” said Twilight Sparkle. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” “Okailie dokilie!” The changeling counted under his breath until Twilight Sparkle abruptly shouted, “Pinkie! Tell me! Tell me!” Seven. Prolonged Pinkie exposure seems to build a tolerance in the sanity of nearby ponies. I would never have gotten past three. “Well… I wanted to…” started Pinkie. “But he said no.” Twilight sat back in her seat with a loud thud. “I don’t get it.” “I didn’t get it either,” said Pinkie Pie. “I’ve never felt like this around another pony before.” “He’s not a pony,” scoffed Twilight Sparkle. “He’s a deceptive, lying, scheming changeling who is emotionally manipulating you in order to steal your love.” “How can he steal my love if he won’t even take it when I give it to him?” Something deep in the changeling’s gut twisted and he took a moment to slip into the back room and refill his tea. By the time he had returned, Twilight Sparkle was slouching out the door and Pinkie Pie bounced past with a kiss to his cheek. “Are you excited about your party tonight, Pops?” Whatever gloom clung to Twilight Sparkle’s vicinity blew away like clouds when faced with the full power of the Badlands sun. “Yes, I am.” Pinkie squealed as she dashed into the kitchen. “This is going to be the best party you have ever had in your life!” He was still musing over her words a few hours later when the Royal Guard transport landed out in front of Sugarcube Corner again, filled to near overflowing with motionless changelings. He tried to take his mind off of his final destination by putting on a false smile and running into the back room to box up two dozen assorted cupcakes, with a few more added just for balance. He made it back to the cash register at the same time the Royal Guard corporal from before strode in the front door, his voice already raised in a parade-ground bellow. “Carrot! We’re running late, do you have — Oh, thank you.” The guard took the box of cupcakes in his magic and popped the top open for a quick look. “Wonderful! Prompt delivery and service with a smile. A young colt like you is going to go far in life.” To some unmarked gully in the Badlands, most probably. Catching the guard as he turned for the door, the changeling cleared his throat. “Hey. I just wanted to say… Could you save a space on your trip tomorrow. We’ve got a changeling in town—” He was interrupted by an impatient customer who dashed in through the door behind the guard, waving one hoof and asking, “Bathroom? You’ve got a bathroom, right?” “Over there, behind the partition,” said the changeling with a wave of one yellow hoof, stopping in shock as the changeling galloped past at full speed in his bare chitin-covered and hole-pierced body, taking the corner with one hoof on the wall to speed his way. “Hurry up,” called out the guard. “I told you to go before we left.” “That was a changeling,” said the changeling, feeling much as if he had been shot by a party cannon and had not realized it yet. “A changeling. Alive.” “Of course they’re alive,” bellowed the guard. “They’re harder to kill than cockroaches all stuffed full of love like that. We pulled one out of the wall of a house today, stuck all the way in up to his waist for the last week. Just sat there and sang showtunes, like some drunk cadet out on a three-day bender while the old grandmother in the house showed him grandfoal pictures and fed him cookies. Took forever to get him out of there.” He waved at the wagon, which displayed a few sluggish movements as one or two other changelings looked at the building and most probably were considering their own bathroom break. “They’re fat as ticks and happy as hamsters now, all bubbling over with love and sunshine, but after they get hungry, they’ll be right back to being vicious love-sucking monsters again.” “That’s… nice.” “Nice? Ha!” snorted the guard. “I’ve no idea what the Princess is up to, letting them go like this. Anywho, send our little buggy guest out to the transport when he’s done, would you? I’ll go distribute our inflight meal and show everypony where the emergency exits are. Get it?” Seemingly disappointed at not getting a laugh out of his jab, the unicorn trotted back out to the transport and began distributing cupcakes, just as he had said. The changeling was so deep in thought that it took a moment to realize when the other changeling had come out of the bathroom and was poking him in the flank. “Pops? Is that you? Hey, Pops.” “Oh! Hi…” The changeling blinked a few times to center himself and looked at his counterpart. “Wenx. I see you survived.” “Yeah, but my stomach hurts like crazy and I can still taste plaster.” Wenx cocked his head and squinted. “What in eggshells are you doing here, Pops? And why is there a ribbon tied onto your leg?” “Oh. I got captured.” He tugged on the knot that secured him to the cash register. “I’m trapped here while I work off the damages.” “You know that’s just a ribbon, right?” Wenx reached for it with his magic. “Just untie—” “No!” Pops stopped with his hoof over the knot. “Really.” “Uh, right,” said Wenx, backing up a step. “Well, I suppose we can talk when you make it out to the hive in a few days. See you later. My ride is waiting.” “Just a sec!” Pops dashed back into the kitchen, returning in a few moments with a box full of cups of iced chamomile tea, each with a slice of lemon, travel lid and straw. “This should help with the stomach ache.” Wenx looked at him with a frown until he floated over a glass at random out of the box and took a sip. “Hm. Not bad. Not bad at all.” The changeling hefted the box onto his back and turned for the door. “Thanks, Pops. We’ll see you in a few days.” “Thank you for dining at Sugarcube Corner and have a wonderful day in Ponyville,” said Pops reflexively. “Ponyville?” asked Wenx, holding the door open and trembling. “You’re trapped in Ponyville?” It was amazing how fast his fellow changeling sped back to the transport and flung himself inside, even more amazing that the cups of tea in the box stayed with him during the whole trip, but there was something more important bothering Pops. Once the transport lifted off into the sky and the Royal Guard pegasi could no longer be seen, he slipped back into the kitchen and marked the time on the clock. The absolute minimum time to pour a cup of cool tea, drop in two ice cubes and a lemon slice, put on the top, stick in the straw, and put it into the box worked out to about a minute, but somehow he had done over two dozen of them in so little time that the swinging door back to the kitchen had not even quit swinging. Pinkie’s contagious, and I’m infected. If I go back to the hive, I could infect them all. Thousands of pink pony changelings doing impossible things. It could destroy Equestria.