coming here and seeing a thread three years old like this feels strange after using mlp only for so long

Have something silly for a change. Unfortunately, the file size limit is too small for the real thing, but you can find it on the boorus if you want.

>Be the Mistress of Manipulation >The Duchess of Deception >The Mother of Harlots! >Queen Chrysalis! Ruler of the changeling hive! >"Alright, Chryssi, I'm headed out. Be good!" >The order is immediately followed by the shutting of the front door >The human has finally left to his pathetic job >Now's your chance to- >"Mom?" >Oh, for hive's sake >"Mom?" >You raise your head from its immensely comfy spot on the floor and poke it out from beneath the couch to see your drone's blank blue eyes staring back in your general direction >"Mom?" "What?" You bark >"What are we-" She pauses to take in a deep breath, "-gonna do today,-" Another breath, "-Mom?" >You groan again and restrain the urge to bury your face in your hooves "Use your spiracles, Drone." >"Oh yeah!" >The drone takes a stance, and a faint whistling can be heard, the tell-tale sign of a changeling taking a proper breath >"Thanks, Mom!" >You roll your eyes as you drag yourself out from beneath the couch >Your drone speaks up again as you're stretching your stiff chitin >"What are we gonna do today, Mo-" "The same thing we do every day, Drone." You interrupt "We're going to play the 'don't talk until Anonymous returns home' game." >"Oh..." The drone slumps dejectedly >The sight nearly makes you take pause >She usually loves that game "Explain your reaction, Drone." >"Well, it's just..." "Go on." >"I thought we'd do something special for Dad today." "He's not your father. And even if he were, why would we do anything 'special'?" >The drone's eyes widen in a silent gasp >"C-cause it's..." She sniffs and casts her gaze to the floor >"It's Dad's birthday..." >You give her a disdainful look >The human's doing, no doubt >He's been filling your drone's susceptible mind with the most inane "knowledge" "Changelings don't celebrate days of birth, Drone." >"But Dad's not a changeling. He's a monkey." "Human." You correct >You'd never admit it, but your drone had a point >And knowing ponies, he'd be getting love and admiration poured onto him all day >How wasteful >They should be pouring all that delicious love onto you! >Maybe... >You smile to yourself as your superiorly strategic mind swirls up a superb scheme "At attention, Drone. I've made a royal decision." >She instantly straightens up, putting on the most serious face she can muster "We're going to bake a cake." -=-=- >You glare menacingly at the tome before you >Somehow, through all your years as Queen, you've never seen a script like this before >Perhaps it's in code? >"Mom, what's an angel?" >You look at your drone who is buzzing in midair beside you to see the book, her legs dangling freely beneath her >You'll have to remember to add proper flight technique to her training regimen "A what? Where did you hear that?" >"Right there." >She points at the book lying open on the counter >"Annngeeel...fooood...cake!" >She scratches her head >"Who would eat a cake made out of angel food?" >You furrow your brow at your subject "You read human?" >Your drone nods ecstatically >"Dad's been teaching me! He says I'm a really good learner." >Hmph >At least he's showing her something almost useful >You slide the book to sit in front of her "Read out the instructions, Drone." You order as you use your magic to open up various cabinets >"Okay!" >She floats a bit closer to the page, focusing intently on it >"O-one...cuuup...fuh-fluh-floor. One cup floor!" "Flour." >This might take longer than you thought

>>29551 "Next?" >"Um, now it says to add the rest of the sugar." >You levitate the bag of sugar and grumble when you feel how light it is >Hmm... >Maybe you could substitute it? >You dig through the pantry but find nothing suitable >Something sweet, something sweet... >Aha! >You levitate the measuring cup in front of your muzzle >Turning your face downwards, your body starts jerking forwards, the sound of heavy dry heaving escaping the bottom of your throat >After about five minutes of this, you finally start drooling out a thick purple slime into the cup >You haven't had to make royal jelly since your last brood >How long has it been? >"Uhm, Mom?" Your drone says once you've finished spewing out jelly >"I-I don't think you should be spitting in Dad's food." "Nonsense." >You dump the jelly into the mixing bowl "He should be honored that I'm willing to spend what little love I have on his silly little birthday." >Your drone looks at you skeptically >You glare in return "Next." -=-=- >You shut the oven door and sit back on your haunches with a huff >Who knew baking would be such toil? >"Mom?" "Hm." >"Why do they call it oven when you of in the cold food of out hot eat the food?" >... >Don't hit your drone, don't hit your drone... -=-=- >"Chryssi! Dot! I'm home!" >"Dad!" The drone zooms into the human's arms, the two hugging each other tightly on impact >"How're my little lovebugs doing?" Anon beams "I told you not to call us that." You sneer as you enter from the kitchen >Anon quirks a brow as you levitate the cake into his hands, the drone clambering onto his shoulders to let him hold the dessert >The final product is coated in black frosting with shaky green lettering that's supposed to read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in human text >You had to have the drone write it out >"Did you guys, make this for me? That's...wow. Just...thank you." >Anon's usual chipper smile widens even further >You can taste the gratitude pouring off of him >Close, but not quite what you're after >You pretend to examine a hoof nonchalantly "A queen always knows how to treat her subjects. The real question is if subjects know how to treat their queen..." >You coyly present a cheek to him >Anon rolls his eyes >"I guess it's only fair, my Queen." >Anon leans in and plants a smooch on your cheek >You can't help but let out a nymphish chirping as the love floods your system with it's warm tingling >Anon balances the cake on one arm and uses the other to pull you into an embrace, making your cheeks flush >Human love always seems to make you act like a larva >"Thank you, Chryssi. Really. This means a lot." >You roll your eyes and look away to hide your blushing "You humans are just as bad as ponies with your...your stupid love." >Anon chuckles and hugs you tighter before giving you another kiss on the cheek >Maybe living here isn't all that bad https://ponepaste.org/10975

It sucks that /mlp/ returned so quickly. I don't want to overwhelm the thread with just my stuff. I've been meaning to post this for a few weeks, but I guess I'll hold off on more until I write about her again. This image is huge, so here are links to the full quality: https://derpibooru.org/images/3595858 https://twibooru.org/3507483 https://ponybooru.org/images/3818522 https://ponerpics.org/images/7228837 >>21030 >I personally don't like this kind of hyper pregancy because it looks too much like vore. I wouldn't mind if it were eggs and not lings who look like they already had their first molt. Well, these are appropriately undeveloped. Jotun22 made this, based on the end of this short story: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/564117/3/sexier-short-stories-with-particularly-pregnant-ponies/bug-shy Fortunately for the guard, he remained outside of his queen as she left the throne room for some other part of the hive. Despite the title of guard, his main purpose was to help her move her swollen form at her leisure, and he was thankful she wasn’t yet so big that she would need two guards to help her shift her weight. Wordlessly, she began to rock herself back and forth until her giant rear left the throne, and he wordlessly sandwiched his back underneath it to act as a lift; his four shaking legs moved the queen upwards ever so slowly, and he knew if his legs failed him he would be smashed under her like a common bug, although there were worse ways to die. Thankfully, her thick hindlegs soon helped him, but not to get her standing, for she was easily far too large for standing to be possible. The work of his entire body and her legs amounted to nothing more than rotating her so that she lay on her belly like a knot on a balloon. Thereafter, her wings somehow lifted her into the air, giving her more of a teardrop shape as he lay on the ground watching her, struggling to catch his breath before he followed. His queen was so majestic.

>>29737 >His queen was so majestic. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXfodm4zTMU

I hope you have a nice Nightmare Night and a happy Halloween. I've been planning to release an anthology about the queen like this for a while now, and the artist for the first chapter took long enough that I realized Nightmare Night was a good release candidate. The artwork's still not quite finished, but the story is. I don't want to overwhelm the thread, and it looks like I will since even I can write a new chapter every few months, so I'll leave it at this for now and post again once I've got the finished artwork for this first chapter, but I won't post future chapters here unless things pick up again. Who knows, maybe 4chan will finally die. Here's the story now: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/582238/1/tall-tales-of-the-one-true-queen-and-her-many-children/snug-in-a-bug Snug in a Bug Queen Chrysalis lay flat on the floor of her hive, in a sense. She was alone, and not. She was rather still, and constantly, violently twitching. Her monstrously bloated belly rested underneath her, every one of her nooks and crannies filled with foals, dwarfing the rest of her body. It was lumpy with its contents, and had no clear shape; despite lifting her hooves well from the ground, it still bulged upwards so that its highest point was past her withers. The queen couldn’t tell, and wouldn’t care, but her thin spine twisted and curved along her gut, leaving her lounging on top in what would be a very uncomfortable position for any pony. She had nothing to do while she waited in the bowels of the cave system stretching from every direction around her, but to admire her body and the bodies of the children within her. She had read every book available to her many times over; she couldn’t plan her most recent military strategy any further, for this was her military strategy; and one of her born children was taking an awfully long time to return with her drink order. She had just awoken from a nap, and could feel that sleep wouldn’t soon easily return to her. The queen stretched her legs and buzzed her wings with a long yawn. Even her mighty wings were incapable of lifting her body, and she took pride in it; the age of austerity, of small batches, was finally over again for a time. Her legs carelessly slammed into her gut, striking whatever unfortunate foals were beneath them. Her forelegs pressed in deeply where her forehooves met her swell, while her hindlegs splayed behind her to rest against a bulge and prevent them from dangling uncomfortably, for her. There was a small window—comparatively—through which she could observe her children; while her transparent membrane revealed all of them set against the flesh, she could only see those directly around her thorax, and not even all of them. The lucky foals directly in front of her head occasionally saw a fang-filled smile, and even felt the rare affectionate rub from her hoof. They may be able to connect her consumption of love in all its forms to their satisfaction. All others were condemned to even more ignorance of their existence, with those at the bottom—or surrounded on all sides by their siblings deep inside—enshrouded in darkness.

The membrane which held them inside her body shifted and stretched in every direction with their movement, however little or harsh, except the bottom set against the cold stone floor. Thin bands connected to her thorax stretched across her belly, from one side around to the other, and provided the only means for her to influence it where she couldn’t see, but they were far too weak to contract when stretched as they were. There was never quiet within her; even if those on the outermost layer were still, those within the inner layers could kick them against the membrane all the same. The queen was resigned to her children having an advantage over her for once in their lives, and merely tried to keep herself lying on top of them like the knot on a balloon. They constantly shifted and squirmed underneath her, but rarely was their movement so great and coordinated as to change her position by any appreciable amount; it was embarrassing, whenever she became so lopsided that she would fall over herself and require help. With that thought in the back of her mind, she pressed her forehooves into herself even more deeply while her hindlegs did little more than bang her underside, trying to adjust herself ever so slightly; she couldn’t move at all, but thought to herself otherwise. She decided to give them some attention, and ran a hoof along the little faces staring back at her. Some closed their eyes when her hoof drew close, and others watched. In their little smiles, she saw reflections of hers, and bared her fangs at them in a wide grin. Most of her foals directly underhoof weren’t little faces, but backs with developing wings or butts whose owners were deeper down; some were even less present, like little legs—or just their hooves—that stuck out and twitched, unable to make any greater movement she could notice. She rubbed one of the little backs, and watched the wings twitch lightly. She prodded one of the little rears, and its owner bucked with all his might, little hooves stretching her taut even moreso; her magic encircled the little hoof and kept it still against its owner’s wishes, and she compared the tiny hoof to hers for a few moments before releasing it to watch it withdraw uselessly where it had been.

Faint buzzing could be heard throughout the hive by listening carefully enough, but it was most often ignored. Queen Chrysalis heard a particular set of wings, still far away down one of the many tunnels, which seemed to be drawing closer. Her ears twisted themselves to face the noise coming from behind; as it drew closer, she felt slightly more movement from the foals underneath her rear and hindlegs, and she figured they’d seen something she hadn’t yet; the queen slowly began to smile without realizing it, drool making its way between her fangs to splatter on her slick membrane; her smile was killed intentionally before she rotated her head to look directly behind herself. Her born child finally brought to her a golden chalice filled with liquid love, which she took in her magic and brought to rest at her nose. She inhaled deeply. It was strong love, pony love, the kind of deep love that drives ponies to have their own foals. Now it was nothing more than food for her to make her foals. She kept that thought in mind as she tilted her head back and drank all of it in one gulp. She exhaled loudly, resisted a burp, and closed her eyes. The love made her head warm and fuzzy, causing her to forget the world around her and even her body struggling underneath her. She felt so satisfied. It never lasted. Her frown returned as she felt her stomach quickly process that love and diffuse it into the amniotic fluid sustaining her foals. It was almost painful for her to feel the precious love draining from her body into their bodies within hers, where she couldn’t enjoy it. Her magical grip flickered, dropping the chalice onto her swollen middle; she watched it bounce several times as her born child tried to catch it in his hooves, while her unborn children merely flinched at it, and he dove in front of her but out of her view as it fell further. He wordlessly flew away to collect more, hiding the chalice that was likely even more dented than beforehoof, and then she was alone again, as much as she had been previously. The queen propped up her head on the bottom of her hoof by twisting her foreleg in a way that would break on a pony, shoving the joint into some unfortunate children who could do nothing but be moved not quite out of the way. Not all of the children around her thorax could she see, she remembered as several of them grouped around her stomach started to kick it tirelessly, reinvigorated by the meal she’d just consumed. Her stomach wasn’t yet empty, she noticed with a burp; a pink cloud shaped like a heart left her throat before breaking and then dissipating into the air around her, before she could suck it back inside. She scowled at the wasted food, but reminded herself that the foals around her stomach were always bigger, and would be worked harder. She was made to burp again, but kept her mouth closed and swallowed her food a second time. Queen Chrysalis sighed. There was no mirror with which she could remind herself of her beauty—none in the hive were big enough—and she could only vaguely see herself in the reflection of her gut, which failed to satisfy her. She wanted to bask in her own enormity, the literal glow of her maternity, and yet was denied this. She could feel her womb’s outline, and across it could begin to make out the hundreds of new body parts shoved against its entire surface, but this failed to give her a detailed sense of her scale; in her deepest depths, she felt absolutely nothing—for while all of the little brains and nerves and body parts belonged to her, they also belonged not to her more, with the evidence being their obscurity to her—leaving only high pressure building up against her thinning membrane, organs, and increasingly her rear to remind her that she was still growing bigger every moment.

Her hindlegs slipped from their resting place, but otherwise stayed where they were, and she couldn’t feel around for a suitable spot to rest her hooves again; they now dangled behind her rather than splayed, and she could feel another minor ache added to her body, which she knew would grow slowly over the days. She started to think about pulling enough of her born children from their labour to move her. She imagined herself still where she was, still massively pregnant, but lying on her side; the simple thought already felt like a vacation for her. There would be some issues such as finding a smooth ledge for her thorax, to prevent herself from being crushed, and finding or building a cavity for her belly, so it wouldn’t drag her down, but she smiled not unlike she had when the drink had been brought to her. Her smile died again as the ache continued to settle into her rear back. Queen Chrysalis laid herself flat against her maternity, forelegs joining hindlegs in dangling uselessly. An army had passed through her hips, its work surrounded her, and she smiled. No hideous cutie mark rested across her flanks, for she needed none to know her one and only purpose in life: Her destiny was to consume love and convert it to her kind. All other life existed to provide love to them and for no greater purpose, despite whatever some mark contrarily claimed. A familiar sensation brought itself to the forefront of her mind, and she closed her eyes tightly. She felt no less than three foals clustered at her cervix, each seemingly vying to be first of the brood. She would have to try a new brooding position with the next pregnancy. She was days away from giving birth. Instead, she would have her born child returning with her drink serve as a piece of furniture for a time. It always pleased her to rest on her maternity while her legs were propped up in some way, and she didn’t care if that way were a child struggling to hover behind her. She opened an eye to look at one of her children, and wondered just what task he’d perform for her in the future. Like a cork from a champagne bottle, a foal shot out through her hips—she could feel that he was head first—and remained mostly lodged inside for the moment; she could feel the second to be out lined up behind him. Queen Chrysalis clenched herself around him as best as she could. She didn’t need a torrent of newborns falling out of her and onto the stone cold floor. Like a cork, he was still able to plug her up well enough, sans the puddle of fluid she could now feel running down her belly and pooling on the floor. She breathed deeply and slowly through clenched fangs, neck erect, legs tensed, staring straight ahead, unblinking. Her born—and grown—child would return soon with her drink, and then alert the hive. She only had to keep them inside of her body for a short while longer.