My new Changeling life

by Leonedavis

Prologue: born again

A noise pierced through the haze of my alcoholic coma. My heavy eyelids struggled to open, freeing my pitiful carcass form from the sofa bed that served as my bed. Staggering, I made my way to the shower.

The icy water hit me, jolting me from my stupor. My long hair clung to my face, while my skeletal arms struggled to clear it away. Putting on clothes that seemed somewhat clean, I glanced at the mirror.

The reflection that stared back at me was that of a emaciated man, with green eyes darting, half-hidden beneath strands of black hair. My skin was of an unsettling pallor, and a several-day-old beard adorned my face.

I averted my gaze from this stranger, taking the few necessary steps to reach my fridge and retrieve my breakfast: a beer accompanied by leftover instant noodles, swallowed with little regard for taste.

Another sound rang out, this time it was my old alarm instructing me to go to work. My body obeyed before my brain could react, leaving the half-empty beer on the table.

The streets were already bustling. Hands buried in my pockets, head lowered, I moved forward, avoiding the crowd as much as possible. Taking the familiar alleys, there were always too many people. It was, as usual, a struggle to reach the office.

I entered through the back door and slipped into my workspace to scrutinize invoices and track irregularities in the accounts, sending confirmation emails. It was a thankless job, but solitary, from 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. My brain operated on autopilot.

At the specified time in my contract, I shut down my computer. I waited ten long minutes for most of my colleagues to leave before slipping away myself.

Passing through the same alleys on the way back, I came across groups of friends who seemed to be having fun. Their laughter twisted my heart on one side and filled me with rage on the other, while tears streamed down my cheeks, hidden by my hair.

I picked up the pace slightly, heading towards my first-floor apartment, slamming the door with the little energy I had left. I finished the half-empty beer I had left, before pouring myself another, more than I should have.

My vision was blurred, my thoughts muddled. I made my way to the gas stove, struggling to open all the valves before lying down on what served as my bed, drinking what I believed to be my last beer, a bitter smile on my lips...

"To the friends I never had."

---

I woke up with numb limbs, struggling to open my eyes, plunging into a green liquid where my breath formed bubbles. My movements had become powerless, I thrashed with all my might, consumed by terror. A figure approached, a distorted voice reached me, simultaneously terrifying and gentle, icy and warm. A round object seemed to graze the surface of my container.

"You are destined to become a great soldier," she murmured. I writhed with even greater vigor, although my limbs remained inert. "Rest, my child. Your hatching is still far off." Then, footsteps receded, the form along with them.

Hatching, soldier? An oppressive silence swallowed my cries. I tried desperately to turn my head, but in vain. Fatigue engulfed me, I struggled to stay conscious, pushing my body to its limits, unable to bite my lip. Darkness swallowed me once again.

---

I had no idea how long I had been dozing. When my strength returned, I screamed, mustering every ounce of courage, thrashing with all my might. Perhaps I wasn't an athlete, more like a reject, but I harbored a newfound determination—to be free, to fight, to live again.

The container cracked the moment my head collided with it. I screamed inwardly, triumph echoing as the container gave way.

Crushed on the ground with the liquid and fragments of my prison, my arms, and legs were still absent. I tried to turn my head to inspect them, but something was amiss. I could only feel my oddly articulated torso.

The walls and floor of this room were shrouded in darkness, only the fluorescent green eggs provided a faint glow. An odd "bzzzz" escaped my lips instead of a curse...

I crawled painfully along the gleaming corridor, my muscles aching. A low growl emanated from my stomach as hunger gnawed at me. A buzzing echoed down the corridor.

"You're truly special, my child... tenacious and adventurous," murmured the same voice I had heard earlier. I couldn't help but respond.

"Bzzzre bzz zrr!" Yes. 'What are you!' sounded better in my head... Four black, perforated legs settled before me. A green light enveloped me, lifting me from the ground. I saw fly wings and the distorted figure of a horse with long, pointed teeth, crowned above a pale blue mane. A long, twisted horn gleamed a brilliant green.

"I'll take care of you. Your siblings will take a little longer to hatch." Wait, this thing thought it was my mother? We're not even the same species! I hope...

"How should I call you?" She took me in her hoof, covered in some sort of black carapace. It was always the same strange sensation. Her hoof were cold, but I strangely felt comfortable in her hooves.

"Bzzz!" My name never left my lips. The relative comfort of her hooves made me doze off again.

Laughter burst from the mouth of this sharp-toothed creature. "Well, you certainly have a sharp tongue, at least." Opening its mouth, a sort of pinkish smoke emerged, a small green light above my head. My hunger began to dissipate as the smoke vanished. A sensation I hadn't felt in a long time seized me, a gentle breeze caressing my skin, a soothing warmth enveloping me from within. I fell loved...

With tears in my eyes, I passed by a reflective surface. My head topped a white larval torso, a horn adorned my forehead, and the last detail I noticed was my yellow eyes.

Before drifting into drowsiness within the hooves of this strange creature, I wondered if my former life was a nightmare from which I had just awakened.

"Sleep, my child. We will begin your training as soon as possible." I will do my best not to become the outcast I once was... Mother. That was my silent promise before drifting off to sleep.

Comments

[Doctor_Den]

It’s strange that during his lifetime this character was not fired from his job for drinking alcohol before going to work.

Did I understand correctly? Did this character commit suicide before being reborn as a changeling?
It would be better if he died from overwork. (Unfortunately, this happens too often due to the fact that life circumstances force us to work three jobs almost without a break.)

[Leonedavis]

11726251

Speaking from experience (a colleague), if you don't work in an environment requiring contact with people and the work is done, they don't see anything.

Did this character commit suicide before being reborn as a changeling ?

Yes, I found dying overwork was less despairing. And above all, it is an element that will play a big role in these actions.

[f0st3r21]

Pretty good start.

[hmaf43]

Good job descripting how a facehugger likely felt when it was hatching.

[Poparakelis]

Not much to say here