I'm afraid of Changeling
“So, what would you like to talk about today?”
I heard my new patient shift his weight on the couch beside my chair, as though he weren’t quite comfortable in it yet. It wasn’t, to be fair, an entirely comfortable couch – too comfortable, and my patients would find themselves drifting off rather than listening to me and having emotional breakthroughs that subsequently led to emotionally driven cash payouts in a show of their unending gratitude.
No, I couldn’t have patients falling asleep on me.
My patient – he hadn’t given me a name yet – took his time with the question. Again, not unusual. If my patients knew what was wrong, they wouldn’t have come to me in the first place. This was a voyage of discovery, and that voyage often started with a bit of introspection on their parts.
“I suppose... well, this will sound silly, but I’m afraid of changing,” he finally said.
“That’s not uncommon. Many ponies are afraid of life changes.”
“Yes, but... come on, look at me.”
“I actually can’t from this position.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” There was a pause, followed by a loud ripping sound as he tore away some of the green gunk that fastened me into the chair. “How’s that?”
“Much better. Thank you.” I twisted my neck back and forth to work out the kinks. The rest of my body was still entombed in the goo he’d liberally slathered on me (to my great surprise) on entering my office, but I felt we were making some progress toward a trusting relationship.
“I feel like we’re making progress toward a trusting relationship. Do you suppose you could get the rest of this off me?”
“How about we talk first? I think one of my problems is that ponies keep abandoning me. Or, you know, fleeing from me. Screaming.”
“I promise I won’t do that.”
The changeling sitting on my couch frowned at that, to the extent that his chitinous muzzle could form a frown. “People lie to me a lot, too.”
“I’m a professional. It would be unethical of me to lie to a patient. Besides, I can’t take notes like this.”
He spent a full minute in silence. His wings, little gossamer things filled with holes, but somehow beautiful all the same, buzzed as he thought.
“You promise?”
“I do. I am very serious about helping my patients.”
He let out a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I really... I really hope you’re telling the truth, though. I don’t think I could take another pony lying to me.” He stood, and with a few unhygienic actions from his mandibles that I won’t describe here tore away the sticky goo gluing me to the chair.
This? This was progress.
“Thank you. I appreciate your trust,” I said. “Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. You said you were afraid of changing?”
“Yes.”
“Forgive me, but that seems odd. I don’t mean to stereotype, but changelings are known for changing.”
He waved a hoof. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Everyone just assumes that about me, you know? Oh, Drone42351, I bet you love changing. It’s probably your favorite thing.” The voice he mimed sounded so completely like a young mare that I would have jerked in surprise if my coat weren’t still a bit sticky.
“I see. That’s very interesting.” I snagged my notebook and a pen from my desk and started scribbling some notes. “What about it scares you?”
“Well... what if I changed, and then I couldn’t change back?”
“Like, back to yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“No.” He set his head down on the armrest. “It’s completely irrational, I know. There’s nothing physically wrong with me, or our queen-mother would’ve devoured my pupae when I was first hatched, but I’m still terrified that I’ll change into some poor pony and then be stuck in that form forever. I’d be cast out! Or eaten! Or cast out, then eaten!”
“Perhaps it’s rejection that really scares you.”
“Oh, well, a lot of changelings are afraid of rejection. It causes all kinds of relationship problems, we just get so clingy. Then we end up eating each other.”
“You seem like you’ve been able to avoid that so far.”
He shrugged. “Eh, mostly. Long story.”
There was a lull as I digested that.
“Anyway... you mentioned your mother? Can you talk about your relationship with her?”
“Oh, I worship her, of course. If I didn’t she’d eat me.”
“That doesn’t sound like a healthy relationship.”
“It is for her. She has to eat something.”
I scribbled some more notes. The page stuck to my still-gooey hoof and tore. The ripped piece adhered to my fetlock and slowly began to dissolve.
I was done with that page anyway.
“This next question is a bit sensitive,” I said. “Many of my patients find it very emotional to talk about, and I want you to know that it’s okay if you feel like crying. Did your mother ever abuse you or your siblings?”
“Not really. I mean, if we failed a test she’d eat us, or if we went out to collect some food for the hive and didn’t come back with enough for the nursery drones, she’d eat us, and of course if we thought something dangerous like how nice it would be to turn into a pony and live in the sunlight with a loving family, she’d eat us. And then there was that battle for Canterlot, remember that? Man, she ate all kinds of us after—”
“Okay, I’m just going to mark ‘yes’ for abuse. Let’s try something different. What do you hope to get from this session?”
“Oh, well, they say if you talk about your problems, they sometimes go away, right? Also, then I was planning on eating you.”
“I see. Let me offer a gentle rebuttal by suggesting something: are you sure that’s really your problem? This... fear of changing?”
“Huh? What else would it be?”
“Perhaps you’re afraid of succeeding. You’re worried that if you manage to change yourself, you’ll become something better than you were. If it’s possible to become better so easily, maybe you fear that what you are right now is somehow unworthy?”
He was quiet for a while. Perhaps my words had made an impact, and he was reassessing the challenges in his life. Perhaps he was ready to make a breakthrough.
Or perhaps he was just hungry. It was hard to read changeling body language.
“Let’s say you’re right,” he said, drawing out the words. “What should I do?”
“Well, I can recommend a couple positive therapies. Most of my patients will vouch for my abilities, and many of them have gone on to live happy, well-adjusted lives without fear of being eaten by their mothers.”
“That’s good. I’d like that.”
“I think we both would. But I actually have an idea I think might work better for you.”
“Oh?” He leaned forward.
“Yes. I don’t normally recommend patients to him, but there’s a new psychologist who just set up shop across the street from here. An old... friend. I think you two would get along splendidly, and I’d be happy to write a recommendation for you.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Oh, of course. And this other psychologist? I hear he tastes delicious.”
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Good old professional rivalry.
Not the most groundbreaking of stories, nor the most original premise, but well executed and worth a chuckle or two.
Favorite bit?
Don't know why, I just liked it a lot.
nearly woke up my roommate laughing at the last line. Thanks, Gardez.
The combination of the bizarre situation and the unruffled, matter-of-fact attitude of the psychiatrist really makes this work. A little thought-provoking, a little dark, and a lot of funny.
It's good, but the ending fell a bit flat for me.
Oh man, you start of with deep stuff, then turn it into a joke and then forget Pinkie's rimshot.
Here let me help you.
It is nice to see you still remember how to be silly.
All these srsbsns.docs had me concerned.
Over from Bad Horse's blog, though I've had you on my radar for a while.
I try to write in-depth comments, but you're kind of stymieing me with this story. It's definitely enjoyable. Not uproarious, but I definitely chuckled at bits, and the ending was very well chosen. Not expecting a whole lot of characterization in a Thirty Minute Pony Story, but you do a good job exploiting stereotypes here to make these characters feel more fleshed out than you have time to make them.
This is pretty impeccable, honestly. I don't know that there are any changes I'd make. It's pretty rare for me to see that level of polish. This is good work.
This is, without a doubt and with no exceptions, thebl best changeling story I've ever read. So far I'm just through the first chapter, though. But it rivals "Naked Singularity" in laughs.
“Oh, well, a lot of changelings are afraid of rejection. It causes all kinds of relationship problems, we just get so clingy. Then we end up eating each other.”
“You seem like you’ve been able to avoid that so far.”
He shrugged. “Eh, mostly. Long story.”
There was a lull as I digested that.
Is it just me, or does this read like a Monty Python sketch? I can almost hear John Cleese and Michael Palin talking.
I can't help but think of Mendacity, and how disgusted Chrysalis was when Aldrovanda said Mendax had eaten her.
If you've read the story, you know how to parse that. If not, you should read the story.
2237948 That's not the only thing being digested
I like how he passes the "getting eaten" buck to the other psychologist
Well, this has started off my "read all the story collections" in proper spirits. :D Fantastic.
Oh, wow. That first chapter is all sorts of brilliant.
You know, because that's totally normal.
so, this collection is three years old? yeesh that's intimidating, but I read austraeoh so I'm prepared for the long haul
Flows much better if you read the changeling's dialog with zoidberg's voice
This story has the best punchline.
This reminds me of something I might read in an anthology of short stories- wait... Crap.
Man, I'm late to the game. I mean, this story isn't cannon anymore, but it's still fun.
7058294
you sweet summer child