And now, the last hurrah.
You are Lieutenant Ironclad, of the Equestrian Royal Guard, and it’s another day as a Scout.
Your squad, made up of two other Scouts, Corporal Sweetmint and Private Pommel, were called in by Captain Hard Forged to brief for a small reconnaissance mission out in the San Palomino Desert.
“Wonder what it’s fer…” drawled Pommel. The towering Earth pony from Appleoosa was a bit new to the ERG, a ’greenhorn’, but he was dependable in some rough situations. You chuckle, remembering another mission where Pommel got everypony out of a bad spot, MacGyvering a weapon out of some sticks and a particularly heavy stone.
“Maybe a vacay spot? Heard of this little town called Brightsprings, looked like a nice place to hang out.” rattled Sweetmint, the talkative Pegasus making for the, as Hard Forged put it, ’the loudest Celestia-damned recon agent in the Guard’.
“It’s a
recon mission Sweetmint,’ you deadpanned, “I don’t think Captain Forged is looking for a place to put his hooves up.”
“It’s a thought!”
You roll your eyes whilst Pommel groans in exasperation.
As a result, you nearly plant your muzzle into the Captain’s office door. You hear a ’snrk’ from your right.
Dammit Mint…
Swallowing your embarrassment, you open the door, and step through.
“Captain Forged, sir!” you say loudly, with your squadmates parroting the line.
“At ease, Guards.” Hard Forged replies coolly, the unicorn’s non-professional demeanor apparent immediately.
“What’s the skivvy?” Sweetmint asks, her playful behavior early completely gone.
“Alrighty, let’s see here… got it. The HRU rattled my phone for ten minutes, relaying information on an incident regarding a town in the San Palomino Desert. Brightsprings, I think.”
“Called it!”
“Corporal!”
Forged gave an amused stare. “Yeah, yeah, I know the place is a hot vacay spot, but this is a mission, Corporal; keep your head in the game.”
“Yes sir!”
“Anyways, contact from the town was lost a few days ago, no telegraphs, no outbound shipments, nothing. The bio-colts at the Hive Response Unit think Changelings might be involved.”
“Makes sense, sir,” Pommel said, “Changelin’s
love reservoirs as spots to build Hives, and guess what Brightsprings is built on?”
The Captain flipped a pen with his magic, pointed it at Pommel, and winked, “Right on the money, soldier. That reservoir’s massive, perfect for a Hive. You’ll be going it alone, wish I could be there but I can’t; I’m buried under paperwork from the HRU for requests to get a science team out there.”
You interject, “Somepony’s gotta do it, sir.”
Forged chuckles, “Of
course,” he faux whines, “it’s gotta be
me. Heh. Report back to me once you’re done down there, I’ll relay the info to HRU, and they’ll get a science and diplomacy team. Dismissed!”
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
“~~
Huuuaaaaaghh!”
You pat Pommel on the back as he spews his flightsickness into a carriage bag.
“Tartarus, Pommel, what did you eat!?”
He chuckles at Sweetmint’s reaction.
“Nothin’, just can’t stand flying.”
Understandable. You’ve puked your fair share of lunches while on carriage when you were a greenhorn.
“Aren’t you, like, part pegasus or something?”
You blanche. “Correlation
does not always equal causation, Mint, you know this.”
“Just saying.”
Sweetmint looks at you. “What’s your plan once we touch down, LT?”
“When we do, we’ll sweep the area, stay close to one another. We’ll check for recent records; newspapers, letters, photos, the whole shebang. Once we do, we’ll start checking local restaurants, parks, and saloons. One of ’em should be an entry point into the Hive. Then we’ll report to Hard Forged on the situation using Pommel’s radio doohickey.”
“In and out,” Sweetmint says, “It’ll be fun!”
Pommel looks up. “Hopefully ~~
urp!”
This is going to be a long flight.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
The carriage lifts up spewing dust in all directions, and leaving your squad in its wake.
“Gentlecolts,” Sweetmint says, before grandly gesturing to the ghost town in front of you like some tour guide, “Welcome to Brightsprings.”
“Ah think the postcard had more water.” Pommel deadpans.
“And more ponies.” you join in.
“Yeah, that photo
was taken before the place got ransacked by Changelings.”
“Let’s just find a newsstand somewhere.”
“Like that one?” Sweetmint points to a kiosk with just a couple of papers left in it.
“Huh. That’s convenient.” You trot over picking up one as Sweetmint examines another.
“Last week’s edition?” She blows a raspberry, before continuing, “Hasn’t been restocked. Must’ve gotten hit before the weekly recap.”
“Have you been here before?” you ask, “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of info on this place.”
She shrugs. “Only the basics. I was planning on heading here on leave. Maybe find a nice stallion here; not that you two aren’t attractive or anything. Anyway, the paper is restocked every Thursday, recapping on past events and informs of incoming changes when necessary. So Brightsprings must’ve been hit on at least last Sunday.”
“Ya scare me sometimes, Mint.”
“I’ve got connections, Pommel.”
You stare flatly. “Your cousin?”
“Yep!”
You continue reading.
“Hey, look at this!”
You point to an article header.
LOCAL WATERTAP CLOSED AFTER INCIDENT AT HOTEL
“Gimme that.” Sweetmint demands, before snatching the paper from your hooves.
“Wha- hey!”
“Let’s see here… ’pony complains of drowsiness after drinking a glass of water,’ yadda yadda yadda, ‘bystanders claim green glow from the stallion’s eyes?’”
“There’s this one too.” Pommel drawls.
You snatch the paper from Pommel.
“Hypocrite.”
You ignore Mint’s remark.
“’Tourist disappears after entering saloon bathroom?’” you read aloud. “This isn’t right. Changelings opt for stealth and replacement, not outright foalnapping.”
Sweetmint pipes up. “That was Chrysalis’
modus operandi, and the only tactic we’ve seen from changelings. I think the HRU said something about different hives having different tactics.”
She
is right.
“But that doesn’t explain the drowsiness from the water…”
“Could be Changeling pheromones.” you say, grabbing your squadmates’ attention. “Overheard some of the biologists while we were gearing up. Said the stuff pools in water, and acts as a potent muscle relaxer when someone drinks it.”
“What’s it do, then?”
You shrug, “I’ve heard everything from making love harvesting faster to genetically modifying semen and egg cells.”
Pommel’s muzzle scrunches up, while Sweetmint’s gapes open.
“Don’t eat a fly, Sweetmint.”
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
Crash!
“What the fuck was that!?” Sweetmint gasps.
“I don’t know. Came from the kitchen; Pommel, take point.”
“Roger.”
You and your squad were investigating a hotel dining area; the same hotel from the paper. Something had knocked over a few things in the kitchen.
You stay close behind Pommel, before he opens the door. He looks back.
“Don’t worry, sir, somethin’ happens, I’ll holler.”
“Got it, Private.”
He disappears behind the door.
Two minutes later, you hear him shout.
“Git the hell offa me, ya damn varmint! Shit, Iron, Mint, assist!”
You and Mint pile in… to find nothing.
“What the hell?”
“Pommel, sound off!”
Nothing.
“Fuck, this isn’t good. Pommel had the radio.”
“Can’t find any entrance point, either,” Sweetmint claims from the other side of the kitchen, “Whoever these ’lings are, they’re great at hide ’n seek.”
“Let’s keep moving. We’ll check out the saloon from the newsletter.”
“Tryin’ to buy me a drink, sir?” Sweetmint chides as she loads a gemstone into her Electrostatic Spear. You repeat her actions.
“I’ll think about it once we find Pommel.”
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
You and Mint barrel through the saloon doors, ElectroSpears raised.
“
This is the Royal Guard,” you shout, “
state your presence immediately!”
Silence greets you.
“Mint, sweep the back room, I’ve got the restroom!”
“Yes sir!”
“Keep that spear raised, soldier!”
She’s already at the back room once you’ve said you piece.
You stack up against the restroom door.
Count to four. Inhale. Count to four. Exhale.
You breach.
“Drop it, motherfucker!”
Silence.
Your breath hitches. This was where the stallion disappeared. You swear there would’ve been a-
ZAP! ZAP!
“Iron, help!”
Shit!
“I’m on my way, Mint, hang tight!”
You bolt out the restroom door, round the corner, and barrel through the back room door.
The sight that greets your confirms your fears.
Mint is firing her spear at a hole in the floor, where a bright green tentacle that had hold of her right hind leg sprouted from.
“What the fuck is that?!” You shout as you lean down to help Mint.
“Fucker grabbed my leg while my back was turned! Quit stallin’ and
help! I’ve seen enough Hippocampi cartoons to know where this is going!”
You grab her shoulders, and
pull.
“
OW, that’s smarts! Listen, Iron? I’ve got a
bad idea.”
She looks at you, tears welling up, but that doesn’t hold back the courage in her next words.
“Let go.”
You’re shocked to the point that you comply.
The tentacle, carrying your best friend, retreats into a changeling tunnel faster than greased lightning.
You shake your head, and shout into the tunnel.
“Mint!
Mint!”
You swallow.
Well, you think,
time to go spelunking.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
“Guardsponies, sound off, that’s an order!”
You crawl forward, grazing your foreleg on a lighting crystal.
“
In and out, she said.” You falsetto, mocking Sweetmint’s words, “
It’ll be fun, she said.”
You continue, ignoring the wet, slimy sensation of changeling honey.
“Bullshit.”
Now, you’re trudging through a maze of tunnels, brightly lit with green crystals. You find yourself at a dead end.
“Ah, fuck me…” you grumble, before bopping the rock blocking your path with a grey-furred, ironclad hoof.
Which dislodges the rock.
What.
You push a bit more, forcing the rock out of place.
The sight of what lay behind makes you gape.
Pods. Hundreds of them, lining the walls. Within, you could see the shapes of writhing ponies and… changelings?
WHAT.
Looking even closer, you could see one of the pods, containing the shape of Pommel.
With a changeling straddled on top of him.
Ironclad.exe has stopped working.
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you draw your ElectroSpear… before tumbling out of the wall and landing in the Changeling tainted reservoir.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
You find yourself inside a pod, your armor removed and too weak to move. You felt a twitch in both your ears, before a silky voice flows into your mind.
*“Careful, there, cutie. Don’t want you to hurt yourself~.”*
“What the- who are you? What did you do to me?”
You try to sound defiant, but your predicament makes you sound more scared than anything.
*“You took a dive in the pheromone pool, stud. Had to drag you out myself. You were as limp as a noodle, hun!”*
Friendliest. Ling. Ever.
You feel a contraction in the pod; something opened behind you, and two chitinous, slimy hooves wrapped around your shoulders as a forked tongue licked your nape and two fangs grazed your cheek.
“By the way,” a hot breath whispered into your ear, “Name’s Victria.”
You felt the changeling curl her body around to face you. You-
*Damn, son, where’d ya find this?*
You’re face to face with the *hottest* changeling you’ve ever met.
Her face was sultry, her tongue poking out to lick her fangs, her eyelids lowered as they locked with yours.
Victria’s body was toned in all the right spaces, a taut belly which dragged your vision down to- *Oh.*
Her heart-shaped, turquoise blue vulva with a bright green (bright fucking green!) slit, pulsing and drooling with need.
“You see, changelings feed on love in many different ways,” the insectoid succubus moaned, “Our new hive chose the most,” she sucked in air from between clenched teeth as she ground her marehood to your now very hard member.
“*…Pleasurable.*”
You’re so hard you could cut diamonds.
“Now, *stud…*” Victria forced her lips against yours, “*Breed me. Make me a mother to a new brood.*”
You sense the faint smell of sweet nectar. You breathe deep.
*Now who would you be to deny your mistress?*
You angle yourself, but Vicky takes the initiative.
*Sweet Celestia’s ass cheeks!*
No warmth on Terra could compare to the heat of this changeling. You’ve bedded some mares before, but they were an icebox compared to this wonder.
Not only that, but she felt *divine*. Victria’s passage was tight, and you felt many, many tiny cilia rub against your shaft. Some even tickled your urethra.
“Mmm… your love is… *delicious_…”
The nectar scent burrowed into your mind. Rut your mistress.
You pull back, pressing your barrel to hers and your hindquarters against the pod, and _thrust*.
Victria lets loose a sound somewhere between a caterwaul and a deep moan.
You continue this back and forth motion, gasping in the nectery scent that subjects you to your mistress’ will. You feel like your balls are heavier than ten pound weights, but that weight feels *amazing*.
You can feel it, you’re going to-
You’re stuck.
You try to pull back, but her fluids have glued you into her passage. You can feel a new twitch in your ears.
“Mmm… do you feel your mind slipping? Your will being erased, submitting to total pleasure?”
You feel something crawl from her cervix.
“Yes Mistress…”
“Good boy, pet. Now *give me your seed.*”
You feel that tentacle slide slowly, gently down your urethra.
***“Cum.”***
*Yes Mistress.*
Your balls clench, and your vision goes white.
You are vaguely aware of Mistress’ moans and squeals of satisfaction, her taut belly expanding to a soft, pliable shape, her forelegs wrapping around your shoulders.
You drift, becoming comatose, before Mistress nuzzles you.
“Thank you, broodmate…”
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
You come to your senses in a small room, a warm mass cuddling you.
As you open your eyes, you note that the thing you are resting on is some kind of water bed, filled with changeling jelly.
You gently nudge Mistress off you, before spotting Sweetmint.
The Corporal’s belly is *huge*. She looks at you, with the widest smile on her muzzle.
“Guess what, Claddy,” she says, using that infuriatingly adorable nickname.
“I’m gonna be a mommy. Bet you were right about the pheromones.” She winks.
You chuckle. “Where’s Pommel?”
The pegasus points past you with a wing, and you turn, finding Pommel resting beside a more matronly ’ling.
The both of you giggle.
*I guess Changelings aren’t that bad, are they?*
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
“You *seriously* cannot be entertaining this line of reason, Captain!”
You’re Captain Hard Forged, and you’re tired of this old fart’s bullshit.
Since your recon team’s op ended in public success as well as their own, you’ve had to debrief with the Royal Guard Elders, on the subject of your team’s newfound changeling lovers. Elder Stonewall has been living up to his name, attempting to have the entirety of the Brightspring Hive arrested for terrorism.
*Terrorism, my ass.*
“As a matter of fact, Elder Stonewall, I *am*. The HRU have researched, *several times*, that Prince Armor’s comatose state during the Wedding Incident was a result of Chrysalis’ *mind control*, not her feeding. Thus, the changelings feeding habits are not hazardous to their prey’s health. I believe Queen Strider said that it was equivalent to giving blood at a blood drive.”
Stonewall looked as though his head would explode.
*If only.*
“Hard Forged, I… am *ordering you_… to have your traitorous soldiers, and that blasted hive of _parasites, **arrested**!*”
Something clicks off. You don’t know if it was Stonewall’s comment regarding the changelings, or a slow burn from this jackass’ insanely ultranationalist statements throughout this whole debriefing, but whichever it was…
You were *pissed*.
“No, sir.”
“Forged, what are you doing?”
You grab the small sack that hangs from your barrel.
“I’m going to tell you something, Elder. When I get upset, I like to swing *this*,” you gesture to the sack, “around. It holds exactly fifteen Gryphon-made doorknobs, each of which given to me as rewards from when my platoon saved a burning Zeppelin’s crew and passengers. They said I could use it however I wanted. I’ve used it for everything, from a stress relief to a *bludgeon*. Right now, you’ve got me so stressed, that I decided to start *swingin’*.”
“Are you *threatening me*?”
“Nope,” you reply coolly, “just stating a fact. I don’t want anyone getting hurt, is all.”
You stop swinging and stare at the Elder. “*This* is a threat.”
“The princesses’ have been hard at work trying to garner peace with the changelings. They’ve had to push legislations galore through you guys. And you’ve been a *particular* thorn in that rosebush. So listen *carefully*. You will rescind your previous statements about the ’lings, and I’ll forget about those ultranationalist deals you’ve made with a certain House Blueblood. If not, I’ll send evidence of those non-existent deals to *Celestia herself*, and make sure you spend the next 10 years in the dungeon getting *assfucked*. Got it, sir?”
You hear a faint piddling sound.
“C-Crystal.”
