5. Wrapped Around
Buggy and the Beast
Wrapped Around
The hammering clatter of Beets' alarm clock woke the crabby unicorn from his fitful sleep. Everything hurt, from his hooves to his ragged mane, and his flank was nearly numb from spending the night upside-down in the empty bathtub. At least there was some warm water in the pipes, and all Beets had to do for his morning constitutional was to just lie there and turn on the shower with his magic. He barely moved from his awkward position for the wash or rinse, only regaining a standing position to get properly dried off and step out of the tub.
He half expected to see the suicidal changeling hanging from the ceiling when he staggered out of the bathroom. Instead, she seemed stuck in place on Beets' threadbare carpet where she had crawled out of bed, across the floor, and almost all the way to the bathroom.
At first, he merely stepped around her on his way to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, but after thinking about it for a second, he returned. He fed her two painkiller capsules and most of a glass of water, which she swallowed with only a minor growling, like a small dog. Then he levitated her off the ground and into the bathroom to sit on the toilet.
It was not like he was going to need it soon. He had taken his piss in the shower, after all.
For a change, Beets made it to the front door just moments before Nectarine showed up, although the hesitant night pegasus was carrying an unmarked bag rather warily, in addition to several extra morning doughnuts and three cups of coffee.
"Which one is poisoned?" asked Beets, levitating one of the foam cups out of his friend's grasp and poking in the little tab at the top.
"All of them," replied Nectarine, taking a sip out of his and sitting the other on the kitchen table. "I wanted to make sure the bug died."
"You are such a riot." Beets took a long drink and removed a doughnut for further inspection before biting into it. "One of these days, your sense of humor is going to kill me." He took another drink before putting the foam cup down and heading for the front door to the apartment. "I've got a quick errand I need to run before work tonight. Watch my marefriend for me, wouldja? She's in the bathroom."
"Sure." Nectarine waited until Beets had been gone for a minute or two before wandering back to the bathroom and knocking on the door. "Need anything, Buggie?"
"Hemlock smoothie with a side of arsenic," came the bitter reply.
All Nectarine could do was shake his head. "Do changelings turn into whoever they're around for any length of time? Because you're starting to sound just like Beets."
"Screw you." There was a faint sizzling noise from inside the bathroom and a quiet whimper of pain, which made Nectarine open the door and regard the injured changeling, who had apparently fallen down onto the floor and gotten wrapped in the thin bathroom rug. "Ow."
"You look horrible," said Nectarine. "The papers said the bugs in Canterlot could change forms. Can't you change into something a little less hard on the eyes."
"Screw you and all of your batwinged type," snapped the changeling. "I just tried. Eggshells, it hurts so bad!" She eyed the tall nocturne stallion, who had not put down his coffee or shown a single sign of compassion. "Kill me and I'll let you screw me."
Coffee went everywhere as Nectarine nearly inhaled his cup. "Dammit, Buggie," he spluttered. "Warn a guy before you do that."
"I'm serious!" She struggled in vain to get to her hooves and eventually just glared at him. "Are you going to help me up or what?"
"What?" asked Nectarine, taking a long drink out of his coffee.
"Sick twisted bastard," snapped the changeling as she made another attempt at standing up. "I know what you're feeling, pervert."
"Just because I'm curious about how bugs 'do it,' doesn't mean I'm interested. Besides, you're hurt." He extended a hoof and helped the female changeling stagger to her hooves in the narrow bathroom. "A gentlestallion always— Umph!"
The sloppy kiss to his face came straight out of nowhere, barely managed to sustain itself for a few seconds, and went away as the changeling sat back down on the toilet. "Whew. I needed that."
"What in Tartarus! What did you do?" asked Nectarine, who had retreated all the way into the kitchen and was trying to rummage around in his bag while wiping his lips with the back of one hoof.
"Breakfast." She gave off a quiet belch before settling back down on the toilet with a pained groan. "I don't mean to complain about fast food, but you're a little gassy. Can you at least give me some coffee before you 'hose me down' with that can?"
* * *
It was barely a half-hour later when Beets tromped back into the apartment with a paper bag trailing in his wake. He kicked the door closed behind him and paced into the kitchen, calling out, “Nek, time to go! We’ll be late to work.”
“Just a minute,” called back his friend.
Beets hesitated for a second, then finished pulling the rest of the cupcakes out of the bag and putting them on the clean corner of the kitchen table. “If you’re screwing the bug in the bathroom, I don’t want to hear about it.”
The door to the bathroom opened, and Nectarine slipped out, assisting the changeling as she limped along on her way to the pull-down bed in the living room, with a brief detour to stick her pale-blue tongue out at Beets as she hobbled by.
“Hope you two cleaned up after your quickie,” grumbled Beets.
“Screw you,” snapped the changeling, giving a squeak of pain as Nectarine eased her onto the thin mattress on the Murphy bed in the living room.
“I gave her a sponge bath,” said Nectarine almost apologetically as Beets placed a glass of water on the bedstand. Nectarine watched dispassionately as his friend arranged the towels under her back legs for comfort despite the hissed comments from the changeling, counted out several pills onto the nightstand, and vanished back into the bathroom to put the pill bottle back into the medicine cabinet before adding, “And a kiss.”
“Well, kiss her flank goodbye,” said Beets as he headed for the front door, coffee and cupcake trailing behind him. “When I get back from work, I’m dragging her off to the cops. I’m sick of her.”
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
As the first pale rays of Celestia’s sun lit up the building, Beet Salad and Nectarine dragged themselves back into the apartment. It had been a very long, long night, which had drawn Beets’ normally cheerful attitude (or at least what he considered cheerful) into a snappish reactionary growl during just about any interequine interaction. “If I have one more pony accuse me of being a changeling, I’m going to put them head-first through the nearest window,” growled Beets as he closed the door.
“Ponies are frightened,” said Nectarine with a nervous flick of his membranous wings. “They don’t have anything to distract them from it either. No changeling sightings or attacks in several days. You take Buggy to the cops now, and the whole city will erupt. They’ll lynch her for sure, and the cops won’t stop ‘em. Heck, they'll probably join in.”
“You named her,” growled Beets as he paced over to look at his captive/pet/patient. “I never named any of the animals I picked up. You name something, and it takes a little bite out of your soul when it dies.” He eyed the empty glass of water on the nightstand, as well as the empty pill bottle besides the changeling before bumping the unmoving changeling with one hoof. “Hey. You. Wake up.”
“Ain’t gonna wake up,” mumbled the changeling. “Going to sleep until I die. Took the whole bottle of pills.”
“Ohmygosh,” gasped Nectarine, grabbing the bottle and reading the fine print. “There must have been a couple dozen pills in here, and you’re only supposed to take two at a time! We’ve got to get her to a hospital! I’ll get a pegamedic!”
His dart for the door was stopped cold as Beet Salad caught up the wildly-flapping nocturne in his magic and held him immobile. “It’s too late,” said Beets. “If she took the whole bottle of pills, there’s only one thing we can do.” He trudged back into the bathroom, returning in a few moments with a glass of water and a fresh toothbrush. Beets peeled the plastic off of it and applied a little toothpaste before walking up to the changeling and ordering, “Open your mouth.”
“Why, so you can make me throw— Urp!”
It took all of Beets’ concentration to work the toothbrush around inside the struggling changeling’s mouth. After dumping Nectarine in the middle of the floor so he would have more power for his magic, he continued his forced toothbrushing until the changeling managed to spit the offending dental instrument across the room and glare at her jailer with a foamy frown.
“What do you think you’re doing! Do you want me look to good for the autopsy or something?”
“What autopsy?” said Beets, tossing the mangled toothbrush into the trash. “Unless you’re going to overdose on sugar, eating all of the breath mints I stuck in the pill bottle this morning is just going to rot your teeth.”
“Breath mints?” The changeling stared in abject horror, eventually holding a hoof to her face and giving a little puff of air, which she promptly sniffed. “You bastard. You rat bastard! You church-eek-ptahh shell-less egg!” The empty plastic glass on the nightstand glowed green as she lit up her horn and flung the glass at Beets, hitting him right in the face. The empty pill bottle followed, describing a weak and wobbling path that Beets managed to catch without breaking anything, but the pillow shooting in his direction nearly ruptured over his horn before he could catch it. Blanket, towels and sheets followed, with Beets trying to catch his household belongings and Nectarine dodging for cover in an experienced fashion.
“Gelding!” snapped the changeling as she threw objects. “Pinhead! Neech-itist kelthess!” She paused after picking up a picture frame off the nightstand, panting for breath or perhaps taking careful aim. “You… You…”
Beets had stopped moving and dropped all of the other ammunition she had thrown so far, leaving the wavering changeling to glare at him. She paused with a peculiar look on her face, eventually taking a peek at the golden picture frame she was holding in her magic, then a look back at Beet Salad. She did not say anything for long moments, then turned and carefully placed the picture back on the nearby nightstand before flopping down on her chest on the mattress.
“Ow!” she muttered. The dark black of her unbroken carapace contrasted with the deep violet of the hoof shellac covering all across her front and sides. Since her original impact had been a chest-first crash into the pallets at the dock, the changeling's back was almost unmarred except for a few residual cracks. “I’m not sorry,” she added, somewhat muffled as she was still face-first into the mattress. “You deserved it all and then some.”
The picture frame took flight in Beet Salad's magic as he retrieved it for a more secure location on the other side of the room. Only after it had been properly hung on an existing nail did Beets pick the rest of his possessions back up and return them to their correct locations, although he stacked the threadbare blanket to the side of the changeling instead of draping it over her back.
“Did you want some shellac on your back so you match colors?” asked Beets. “It might help brace the edges of any cracks.”
The changeling derisively lifted her tail, making it quite obvious that she was a she.
“Not one word,” snapped Beets at his friend, who had just opened his mouth to comment on the revealed sight, perhaps even to offer a critique or evaluation. “You can help me paint or you can go home.”
“Or you can get me some real bucking painkillers,” muttered the changeling, turning her head slightly to the side so she was not so muffled. “Eggshells, this hurts. Paint me up before I change my mind.”
She accepted the pills Beets floated over to her mouth without comment and sucked on the straw sticking out of the small glass of water Nectarine brought over to wash them down, before putting her face back into the mattress and sighing. “Buck, this hurts. I should have known something was up when the pain wasn't going away.”
“Let the pills have a little time to work,” said Beets, getting out the shellac. He painted in silence for a while as Nectarine sat by his side, but after working on his patient from her neck down to her hips, he added, “Maybe I should paint that huge thing shut so you don't use it against me.”
Her tail promptly went down. Nectarine sighed. “Spoilsport.”
“She probably has the clap,” grunted Beets, painting in long, broad strokes up and down the changeling's spine.
“Naa,” muttered the changeling through the mattress as her tail began to swish back and forth. “Always use p'techtion with the politicians. Don't wanna spawn no lawyers.”
“I always wondered where they came from,” admitted Beets. “It makes sense, though. They suck all of the joy out of a room, as well as suck all of the bits out of our wallets.”
He flickered a quick look over at Nectarine, who seemed to be considering something of dire importance to the future of Equestria as he watched the bug. The handsome stallion had never taken anything really seriously before in his life, which was one of the reasons Beets still hung around him. His family would be ecstatic about a female making him settle down and get serious for a change, but Beets was fairly certain they would have pages of protests about the mare's species. Nocturne arthropoda, or the common night-dwelling changeling was most likely not on their list for a proper mate. After a while, Nectarine seemed to decide the problem he was contemplating would be better shared, and he spoke up.
“So changelings can have little bug babies with ponies?”
“Buck, no,” scoffed the changeling, lifting her tail back up and waving it around like a flag. “Infertile. Stick it on in.”
“What would a cross between a nocturne and a changeling look like anyway?” asked Nectarine in a rather preoccupied fashion.
“Ugly,” chorused both Beets and the changeling at nearly the exact moment, and joining in a tense chuckle afterwards.
Nectarine did not seem as struck by the humor of the situation, eventually hazarding a quiet, “So, are we taking her to the cops today?”
“No,” said Beets. “No reason for us to get killed. Wait for things to calm down and we'll take her then. Besides, I've got a second coat to put on once this one dries.”
“I'm going home, then. The shellac is giving me a headache.”
Once Nectarine had made his excuses and left, Beets put the finishing touches on his varnishing and began to run a low-powered drying spell over the changeling. “There we go. One perfect coat of Rock Royalty hoof shellac to make you all one color now, Your Highness.”
“W’nderful, peasant,” muttered the changeling. "Do I look more like Princess Moonbutt or Princess Sunbutt? Oh, wait.” She flipped her tail up to expose her nether regions. “Now I look like Princess Heartbutt.”
Getting no response, the changeling flicked her tail from side to side for a while, then relaxed. “Look, I can do pony impressions. Nectarine.” She stuck her tail straight up. “Beet Salad.” She relaxed her tail again and let it hang limp and floppy with a little wiggle.
“Maybe dragging you through the city by your tail and throwing you into the police station wouldn't be such a bad idea,” mused Beets while checking on the progress of the drying spell.
“Better than starving to death here,” said the changeling.
“I am not screwing you, so stop asking,” said Beets, starting on the second coat of shellac.
“Bet that's the first time you’ve said those words to some mare,” said the changeling with an uncontrolled giggle. She hummed quietly as Beets worked for a while, eventually adding, “So, you’re a virgin?”
“That's—” spluttered Beet Salad.
“That’s a yes,” said the changeling with a playful flick of her tail. “It’s really easy. Your pokey bit goes right here.” She helpfully lifted up her tail and waved it. “Fill the changeling up with love and win a prize.”
After a few minutes of uninterrupted painting, the raised tail began to sag, then collapsed back to a slow swishing back and forth. Eventually the changeling took a deep breath and wriggled around so she could look at Beets with one eye. “Look, if you don't give me a little love, I’ll die. It doesn't have to be sex. I’ve got some real busted crap somewhere in my insides that I really need to see a doctor for, so the last thing I need is for some fat bastard to be huffing and puffing on top of me no matter how much love I can suck out of him.”
“Fat?” Beets continued painting without slacking his pace.
“Chunky. Large and in charge. Big boned. Good grief, bonehead. You're bigger than most earth ponies. If you had a personality replacement, some dye, a little cosmetic surgery, a proper shampoo and conditioner, and your teeth brushed once in a while, you could have the mares lining up to sample your wares.”
“You mean if I wasn’t me.”
“Exactly.” The changeling continued to observe Beets with a pupil-less stare which was starting to bother him, although not nearly as much as when she blinked, and suddenly a regular teal pony eye was looking back at him. “Better?”
He painted a little more as his stomach settled. “Yeah, I suppose. Those eyes were creeping me out.”
“So what’s wrong about changing yourself?” The changeling glanced past Beets and he could tell she was looking at where he had hung up the picture, although her magic did not light up to levitate it back to her. “Ponies change all the time. You’re not the same little colt you were in the picture.”
“Everypony else in that picture is dead,” snapped Beets, although he quickly covered up the blotch of shellac he had made with a few quick brushstrokes. “The past is the past. I can’t go back to the way it was.”
“But you can beat the crap out of who you are,” continued the changeling. “So afraid of changing that you’ll stand in front of a moving train instead of stepping a few paces to one side.”
“Like you said, screw you!” shouted Beets, jamming the top back on the can of hoof shellac and slamming the soggy brush into the trash, followed by several paper towels and a empty candy bag.
“Would you stop it!” snapped the changeling with her tail tucked close to her rump and her face buried in the mattress. “It hurts worse than the broken crap in my chest. Just because you like to wallow in shit doesn't mean you need to share. Grow some balls and face up to your problems. Maybe you can become a real pony instead of this bitter shell you're dragging around like some diseased snail.”
“Screw you!” Beets repeated as he lashed out and kicked the nearly-empty can of hoof shellac across the room. The lid spun off as it sailed across the room, but the liquid remained inside, trapped by a green magic aura which placed the can down deliberately and dropped the missing lid on top of it.
“Bucking eggshells, that hurt,” moaned the changeling, collapsing back onto the mattress as the green glow around her horn abruptly cut off. She remained there, unmoving as a statue as Beets shuffled around the apartment and prepared for bed in the bathtub again. With considerable trepidation, he returned to the pull-down bed in the living room to run a drying spell over her back, although before he vanished into the bathroom with his alarm clock, she called out, “Just a minute. Beets? I’m serious. Come here. Please?”
She rearranged herself as the ugly unicorn walked to the side of his bed. With slow, pained motions, she shifted positions, eventually managing to roll on her side and grimace. “Even through the pills, that hurts.” She shook her head slowly and scooted over, leaving a fairly large chunk of mattress unoccupied.
“Oh, no,” he said, backing away.
“Buck, yes,” she said, edging a little farther away until she bumped her tail up against the wall. “I’m all out of juice and still chewing through it to heal. If you go sleep in the shower again, you're going to find a dead bug in your bed tomorrow. And I'll die as messy as I can. Love is the best, but I can feed on just about any emotion a pony cranks out except pure hate, so all I need you to do is lay there like a log and sleep. I promise, it won't hurt you.”
“Buck.” He eyed the changeling as she patted the empty mattress. “How do I know you're telling the truth.”
“You don’t.” She patted the mattress again.
After considering the situation for a while, he bowed his head and muttered, “Yeah, I suppose.”
“One thing first,” said the changeling, holding up a holey hoof.
“You want me to put a bag over my head?” he asked with one lifted eyebrow.
“I want you to brush your teeth,” said the changeling. “Seriously, you smell like a sewer. And brush your tongue too,” she called out as Beets trudged towards the bathroom. “I used to be a dental hygienist, and you would not believe how many germs live on a pony's tongue.”
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Whoops, sorry for not getting this out in the morning. I'll just close the comment with a paraphrased quote: A man marries a woman because he thinks she'll never change. A woman marries a man because she thinks she can change him. They're both wrong.
In this case, the answer may be slightly different.
6969160 ain't that true. Everybody changes, but not because they're forced to.
This chapter was a delight to read. (Well, for the most part. People on the edge of starvation don't provide a lot of entertainment.) These two already have fantastic chemistry, especially when they have Nectarine to play off of.
And yes, the rampant paranoia is worsening exactly as I'd feared. This could get very ugly.
This fic is so...dirty? Gritty? Reading about Beet's apartment, the characters, how they behave...different from my usual fare.
6969236 Beets just doesn't care about how his apartment looks, hence it's a typical bachelor pad with the 'I hate myself' design.
It's all the rage.
Huh, interesting vocation choice. Especially so for love. I wonder what major dental brand of choice was preferred?
Ben waiting a while for this!
6969317 I dunno, everything is described at threadbare. Yeah some of it can be laziness or just living in a poor, shitty housing because that is all he can afford (while trying to save bits).
Ok, seriously, why does everyone keep mentioning weathervanes?
That was a great read. Glad to see a changeling that's not shivering about being discovered.
I hope that other changelings and Chryssie survived.
Prick changeling is best changeling. And rare in a romance story. Please don't mellow her out too much.
Already can't wait for the next chapter!
6969362 It's a Noodle Incident gag, from the Travelling Tutor series I think?
I'm getting a distinct the Honeymooners vibe from this crew.
6969358 I'd bet on the "don't have too much money". I don't think his job gets him that much and he probably doesn't really need anything better anyhow.
Yep, they're basically married by this point.
6969362 6969437 The Weathervane reference is from Eakin's Hard Reset fic, which is one of the best time-loop fics ever. Seriously, go read it. The complexity baffles the mind at times.
6969658 Now that's a wedding that needs therapy.
6969432 Two a day, as promised.
6969380 Maybe.
6969358 6969349 6969317 6969236 I like to think of it as 'Star Wars Chic'
6969417 You mean you don't want the changeling to... change?
6969335 You mean the Sexy Dental Hygienist? "Open up your mouth and let me see what you've got..."
6969225 Paraphrased: "Ponies are smart, but the herd is made up of dumb, panicky animals and don't you know it."
6969787 ba dum ts.
chy characteristics. While I love changelings to bits, I'm kind of tired of them being oh so nice and mellow and perfect waifus. Not many of them are like the Bedbug here.
No, not that, I only meant her personality should retain some b
YYYup, I'll be needing that next chapter riiight about now.
6969787 ... called it.
So, this morning I kept refreshing the page, waiting for the new chapter. By the time I left for work I was all: I NEED MY FIX!
Came home, and life is oh so much better.
Beets life sucks, but that's just the way things go.
Dentist, huh? They usually in my experience have a half decent bedside manner. Then again most of them weren't dying of internal injuries and dressed up in paint on casts.
This generated a hilarious mental image.
Everyone does that, right?
"Sorry, Beets took those. All I still got is the strychnine coffee and some bug spray."
Ooh. Excellent comeback
Oh, that asshole
You don't need to be a changeling to feel that, trust me
lol, he's fast food.
lawl.
Would be funny if this was followed by a dry reply of "I knew you would. That's why I switched them with sugar."
Ohgods. He totally did! Buggy be so mad
That was probably not anywhere near the intention of that gesture
Hah.
Heh. Are they actually joking around? Progress!
That... doesn't sound much like "love" at all
A dental hygienist, huh? As in, infiltrated? Are we gonna get insight into her past?
Remarks and corrections:
> so all I need you to do is lay there like a log and sleep.
"lie", not "lay".
oh, that made me think of a silly story where someone got tricked into trying to overdose on...Laxatives!
7591734 When I was in grade school, we had a school trip to a play starring Jerry Mathers and Tony Dow (Beaver Cleaver and Wally on Leave It To Beaver). One of the characters tried to OD on... birth control pills. Strange life lesson for grade school kids, but it was a different era.
she was a dentist? Cool.
I love her bitterish humor
6969160
I have most troubling news Georg... men and woman... can marry other men and women now
We can of course take solace that while such an option is now available to them, they're at least not allowed to vote or drive