Bimbo Thing

by MetaKnight145

First published

An alien monster finds itself transforming into a bimbo within the walls of CHS.

After using its other-worldly form to assimilate the biomass of Amber Bee, The Thing finds itself taken to the outside of Canterlot High by her shape's normal routine. It is ready to enter and begin the process of assimilating other biomass and spread itself like a virus across the world.

However, little does it suspect that there is another existentially horrifying insidious plague waiting to infect it within those High School walls.


Converted from a greentext story I wrote for the /trash/ MLP Bimbo thread.
Set in the Annonverse, a universe where CHS is saturated in bimbo magic.
Inspired by: The Things

Chapter 1: The Thing in a Bimbo Fling

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I am being Amber Bee. The name matters not, it is simply the sound the other bipedal shapes of the world regard this shape with.

I am standing outside a large building beside a stone representation of a form I am unfamiliar with, seemingly waiting for something to trigger egress.

Such an odd uniformity between the all the dominant biomass on this planet. All bipedal and outwardly inefficient with no obviously apparent adaptations for this world. Such a simple task it would be for them to grow fur that's equally as vibrant as what grows from their tops upon the rest of their bald bodies as to no longer need to clad themselves in such ridiculously meager cloth and plastic. Yet these Things seemingly refuse to.

But the most egregious of their ill adaptations must be the massive tumors jutting out of the front of about half of this population. An ill adaptation I am forced to share in with the goal of blending in with these strange shapes.

Seeking to gain some measure of insight into their baffling choices I turn my attention inward to the structures and shapes that lie within this assimilated shape, perhaps it holds the answers. In my explorations of the musculature and the calcium rich supports it is attached to I find it actually quite well adapted to lug these orbs of fat around, far better adapted than I was expecting based off of the horrifically awful exterior.

This only serves to intensify my frustration and lack of understanding, why bother with such frivolous wastes of energy on adapting your shape to accommodate what is such a clearly poor choice to begin with? There are much better ways to store energy within one's shape than inside two large heavy fat sacks hanging from a cage of calcium. Only frustrated with what I have found I look myself deeper but what I find there simply defies all logic and destroys my assumptions of these Things.

Deep inside this shape working constantly is a system of organs and cells that function with an efficiency I have never bore assimilation with before this planet. This shape, unlike any I have taken before at this size is capable of functioning with but the barest amount of protein and fructose ingested. What are these Things?

Bimbos.

The word came unbidden as if answering my question from deep within a mass of interconnected flesh encased within the same calcium that held this vexing eldritch form up. What I had written off as little more than a concentrated hub for mediocre sensory organs, upon closer inspection reveals a structure of such dizzying fractal complexity that I am left in horrified awe at the shape that I have appropriated.

Grotesque commanding tendrils extend out from its base and branch out across the entirety of this form enslaving the biomass to its will. The muscle at the core does not pump important nutrients without signal from this tyrannical structure and neither does the respiratory system function without similar constant feedback. This entire shape has seemingly been taken with nothing in mind more important than supporting it.

Indeed, the astounding efficiency these "Bimbos" created within themselves seems to be almost exclusively to fuel the ravenous consumption of the Tyrant within the dermal dome. Why would these Things choose to harbor such a horrific monster within themselves when they are capable of so much better?

I am not given much time to ponder or await a response from the perfectly mimicked Tyrant as the artificial structure I have been outside makes a high whine triggering the surrounding biomass to enter, prompting Amber Bee to follow suit.

I allow this shape to guide me through the twisting pink halls and the occasional social interactions where the bimbos insist on only using sounds to communicate with each other rather than directly transferring information. The Tyrant making each of the sounds used to designate each biomass known to me throughout.

Rainbow Dash, the shape that has the most colors of any here while confusingly also wearing even fewer coverings than what seems to be the norm for these bimbos, leaving all of its core subjected to the elements with no protection at all. Lyra and Bon Bon, a bimbo with the appearance of two conjoined at the grasping appendages. Derpy Hooves, a clearly defective shape with visual organs that face in opposite directions, preventing any proper depth perception.

As I am driven through these interactions I feel 'something' invisible to my current sight in the air. 'Something' attaching itself to the epidermis of this shape. 'Something' infiltrating each of the cells it comes into contact with and 'changing' them in an imperceptible way.

I am being slowly being altered or consumed by Something that permeates this air. Like malignant spores I can feel more and more of it invisibly collecting in clumps upon this shape's outer flesh until enough has gathered to penetrate deeper with infectious tendrils into this biomass to gain access to the cells that lie below the service.

I am nothing more than a plastic cell colony all with a shared collective memory, a single shared soul. Each piece of me that this virulent aerosol corrupts is another piece of my very being that is permanently lost. Already, when trying to access the memories contained within the compromised cells I recall nothing but false images of myself stimulating various external organs of the biomass that I have assimilated across the cosmos, and enjoying it. At least, I'm certain they're false.

The Tyrant in its allowed autonomy responds to my growing terror and panic at this invasion of my very soul by yanking one of its many leashes on this form. This seems to trigger a pair of glands to mass produce some kind of stimulant which is quickly distributed throughout Amber Bee. Its effects are almost instantaneous.

Like a fire has been lit underneath them all of the various functions performed by the organs are thrown into a manic state. Respiration and the beating muscle working double time delivering oxygen and circulating even more of the chemical even faster compounding the effect in the rest of this shape. The visual system, dilated, rapidly darts back and forth driven by my desire to find a safe secluded place to find a way out of this invisible assault.

"Bee, are you alright, you look like you're really scared of something?"

These sounds were from a pink furred biomass whom was previously communicating about a "Birthday Party" but is now intently studying Amber Bee.

"I just feel kinda sick Pinks, like I'll just text you all my answers later."

These were not of my conscious creation but the information they conveyed were true enough and seemed to satisfy that biomass' curiosity before I am taken by Amber Bee at a brisk pace toward two sizable openings in the wall with signs beside them depicting rather simplistic versions of the Things that populate this planet.

"Okie Doki! Just wanted to make sure you weren't replaced by a horrific alien monster that just realized that the bimbo magic of the school was doing to it what it does to other lifeforms as ironic karmic justice!"

The tyrant's panicked reactions and leash yanking to the utterances of the pink biomass only scrapes the edges of my awareness. I am far more focused in maddening confusion on the Things around me, calmly traversing the halls seemingly oblivious to the invisible cancer consuming and replacing them cell by cell.

How?

How can all this biomass be totally unaware that their very souls are being slowly destroyed, to be replaced by a mockery, a farce of what was there before? How can any biomass ignore that type of rape of their very being? I know that these Things cannot be immune to it, I have taken communion with one of these shapes in perfect emulation, down to the easily fixed imperfections that would cause catastrophic collapse of internal systems within six decades or so. If these shapes were immune I would be as well.

I have no time to dwell on their astounding lack of self preservation, however, as my own is immediately called into question as one of the virulent tendrils burrows itself deep enough to reach the system that circulates fluid through out this shape. Desperate to avoid this plague from gaining access to such a convenient pathway to spread itself throughout myself I completely abandon my mimicry and bring the beating muscle to a stop.

With such an integral organ ceasing function I am forced to also strip away this shape's former autonomy, its internal constructs dissolving away to be replaced by hastily constructed elements of my design so that my will may drive this shape. The tyrant did not respond well to the wrenching away of its absolute rule over the biomass present or the vanishing of its leashes on this form.

Deprived of all sensory information fed to it from it's leashes it lashed out impotently. Where once there was calm reactions to my imperatives there is now nothing but screaming and fear rising to the surface of this control freak of an organ. With how complex the Tyrant is I had planned to keep it together, but given its antics in response to my necessary assuming of control I simply transform those cells as well to follow suit with the rest of my core. Ceasing its existence until I require it again.

Of course the rapid spasmodic uncoordinated movements of this new shape's limbs driven by the unoptimized internal reconstruction would be seen as unnatural by the surrounding maddeningly homogeneous bimbos if observed. Fortune favors me, however, for I was remarkably close the alcoves before I was forced to adopt a new shape, making it a swift and simple matter of slipping behind the corner that hides the contents of this room from the outside. Taking care to enter the one with the simplified image of the shapes with sacks of fat on their upper bodies, clearly denoting it for them.

Even without the circulation the corrupting force continues its relentless assault of my being, the false memories growing in clarity and number. Whatever knowledge that was contained within those cells lost forever in a deluge of more yet images of myself engaging in strange repetitive acts with various biomass but this time they come bundled with a new sensation.

It was no longer the simple enjoyment of previous corruptions but it was something else entirely. Something I know I have never experienced. Something wholly alien and indescribable to me and my experience in the cosmos with different sensory organs. Yet, paradoxically, I knew the name of this new sensation almost instinctively, no doubt forced into my thoughts by the compromised cells.

Pleasure.

Within seconds of that realization the calcium heavy top dome of this shape is ripped in half by the force of all the internal mass contained within the central portion of myself ejecting out through it. Leaving the ripped green viscera of each half hanging from the hallowed out form.

Tentacles, claws, jaws, chitin, scales, and all other manor of shapes I have committed to memory take form and unform from the ejected flesh within the poisoned air as I desperately search for a shape, any shape that is immune to this soul destroying force. In my panic to rush through my plan I do not even bother to enter the smaller blue rooms that line the wall.

I had expected to have even more of my mass tainted by the malevolent atmosphere during this process of being ejected out from the relative safety of my core, what I did not expect was how rapidly it is occurring. In contrast to how it would simply build up and penetrate when enough of it had gathered, now it almost seems to be attracted to me as if actively fighting it has an intensifying effect on whatever this is.

No longer content acting as spores suspended in the air it has transformed itself into a fluid energy rushing to fill my biomass like air to a vacuum. I can feel it, now freely racing through my constantly shifting limbs easily keeping up with their wildly changing morphology, encountering absolutely no resistance from the varying shapes. Some even seem to hasten its progress to total control over my cells through memory.

The memory capabilities have also accelerated with its new assault style, preexisting memories are being changed at an alarming rate. Looking back into even my fresh planet hopping history I am unable to recall anything of the shapes I've taken on those spheres of rock beyond the first, as if I had somehow been satisfied stopping at only one communion with the biomass present.

That must be resoundingly false, to create the offshoots of myself I still remember creating I must have participated in communion with other shapes and take them into myself.

Of course I could have simply made use of those shapes' reproductive systems, the hijacked organs involved going on to create myself over and over again. Mating with biomass is much safer for my own survival after all than forcing myself upon it and risking violent paranoid opposition to the unity I offer. That thought it was not my own, but at the same time it was. It seems so logical and obvious but something I would not have come up with on my own

I know not if I agree with the logic because it makes sense or because my soul is compromised, it is a harrowing thought.

I am violently ripped from any further investigations as to the depths of the corruption of my soul by an overwhelming sensation that fills this shape. Rhythmic tsunamis of raw sensual information seem to flow and crash about my cells. Each wave threatening to reduce me to a puddle of formless biomass as my cells cry and scream out in unison under the assault.

Such a powerful reaction within my cells is easily recognized, I should know it well. The Red Scourge, fire, the weapon all dominant biomass employ when they violently reject the communion I have offered. But the screams of my cells here are not of myself being destroyed cell by cell in pain but of experiencing pleasure, that new sensation thrust upon me by the corrupting energy that flows through this building.

Each cell is experiencing something so sublime that they cannot help but cry out and share with the neighbor and they in turn. Forcing myself out of this sensual storm, I turn my attention toward searching for the source of this pleasure throughout this shape. As much as I wish to bask in this wondrous new experience for longer I must escape before I am compromised completely.

My search does not take long. Having long since abandoned its duty of rapidly shifting through my inner catalogs of useful shapes, the biomass ejected from this shape's core has instead devoted itself to recreating the various reproductive organs I have taken into myself and forcing them to stimulate each other in pairings otherwise not possible.

Masturbation.

The name of this strange action comes to me easily from my new memories as does images of previous iterations of myself continuously engaged in it during the exceedingly long flights across the distance between inhabited planets. An intense marathon of pleasure awaits each offshoot during their travel.

It takes such a tremendous force of will to cease those organ's grinding and pounding to be retracted back into the hollow core of this shape, and even more to cease their operations within the core. There is an intense push from my numerous compromised cells to engage in this masturbation more often in future, much to my horror. Does this soul rending miasma intend for me to become little more than a writhing mass of reproductive organs until all cellular activity of this offshoot is slowly terminated?

I must escape this infected structure before that, I cannot engage in reproductive activities with the dominant biomass without possessing a stable shape of the organ that does so. It would best to return to being Amber Bee before making my escape from any further changes. The Things knowing of my existence would also result in my termination by fire.

With creeping fibrous tissues I grip a hold of the two halves of the calcium dome and the visual organs left hanging to begin the simple process of pulling it together and pulling them into their orbital sockets. Recreating the Tyrant will not be as simple, I must recreate its extraordinary complexity while making sure to only recreate the organ as it was before I wrested away its illusion of control. I cannot afford to take time to manage its tantrum at being disconnected from its leashes.

Injecting a sizable amount of biomass up into the formerly empty dome, I begin the arduous process, cell by cell and connection by connection.