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Broken by the Changelings

Part Three

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Continued from part two, this is the final instalment...

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"Come, my drones..."

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A flash of green enveloped him as if he was being swallowed up by an emerald fire - and then Arctic was somewhere else, Chrysalis looming over him as she was want to do and bearing her slit back onto his muzzle. It was obvious what she wanted from him and the poor, broken pony whimpered as his tongue so very obediently slid into her sex, coating his muzzle all over again with her juices, slicker and sweeter than before. The drones were swift to follow her through their own methods of teleportation, although they could not teleport as far or with as much finesse as the changeling queen.

His nuts bulged, on show and large enough to each hold several normal-sized ponies, Arctic groaning as she demanded his attention. The rush of her orgasm flooded his muzzle, covering him in her slick yet still somewhat sticky secretions, stickier as they dried, yet there was no relief for him as she delivered to him the humiliation of being forced to rim her tail hole, tail flagged up high and proud to take every last drop of what he had held dear to himself, as himself, for so very long.

He didn't know that he was in the cool darkness of the nursery, the slime sacs on the wall glowing green to give the young larvae, when they were born, something to push out of their eggs towards. It was dim and it was dark, the floor covered with moss - for which he was at least grateful for it cushioned his back at least a little.

"Come, my drones..."

Her tone softened but it was not directed towards Arctic as her drones crowded around, her tentacles sweeping him around but not onto his hooves. The queen positioned him so that he was balanced on his front hooves with his head pointed down, his hind end pushed up by his huge nuts. It was not any kind of position in which she could have easily have mounted him or used her ovipositor for her own pleasure but that was not the case of it as her tentacles secured him there, tightening in magical, flaring bonds, the warmth of them nothing of any comfort at all. She didn't need to comfort a slave or a vessel, a sack that was filled with her eggs. A pony wasn't anything worth her time unless she had taken them into her consideration for some use and Arctic was not a living form in her eyes capable of intelligent thought. Why, ponies may as well have been mere animals for how changelings looked at them, although Chrysalis was, perhaps, fundamental in orchestrating that viewpoint.

Her drones had worked hard and Arctic was treated to a first-hand view of her tentacles - so many of them! - easing into the first of her drones, the smaller creature panting and spreading her hind legs so that her queen could have the best access possible. The penetration of the tentacle was not for any kind of pleasure, however, even if that was a rather pleasant side-effect, reaching straight up into her womb, which was solely used in the case of changelings to implant the eggs of the queen. Drone changelings did not breed like she did, though Chrysalis could reproduce practically on her own, creating more and more drones for the hive, only needing the seed of a male, any male, to fertilise them.

The pony squealed and wriggled, though all he did practically was wiggle on his fat, oversized balls, eyes wide with fear as she withdrew a single, large egg from her drone. The skin was soft and gleaming with slime but he knew even then just where it was going as the tentacle wasted no time in stuffing it into his mouth. Two other, slimmer, tentacles hooked into the corners of his lips, forcing him to keep his lips parted, and no amount of squirming and mumbled, incoherent begging stopped her from scooping another thickly slimy egg from her drone and then another.

Please make it stop...

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That was one of the coherent thoughts that Arctic managed to have for himself but the others were not all that much worth repeating as he whined and tried to suck in what breath he could between eggs. Something about the slime that they were coating in, oozing and viscous, helped them slide straight down his throat without triggering his gag reflex, Chrysalis' tentacle probing and guiding, teasing them all the way down into the pit of his belly. She needed to make sure, after all, that her precious eggs were safe and secure and took care with each and every one to make sure that they were well settled into the lining of his stomach, all sitting as comfortably as they could be.

"My little ones," she breathed. "You will soon hatch and grow up big and strong for the greater good of hive. For now, rest. Your services are not yet needed."

Those eggs did not need to be fertilised until the first batch was dealt with, swimming in the goo and cum of his balls, but they could not have found a better body to reside in than Arctic's stomach, the queen moving on to another drone to rid her of the eggs that she had been looking after in the meantime. A changeling could be freed up to do other things when they were not heavy with eggs, acting the part of a surrogate, and she smiled to think that they would be able to go further on patrols, perhaps even bringing back more sustenance to the hive. They would need more with so many hatchlings on the way. After they were born, the larvae, of course, would need to feed. It would be down to her drones to look after every last one of them.

Arctic whimpered but it was hard to make any meaningful sound at all with a tentacle shoved down his throat, nostrils flaring and puckering for breaths that he could only take when there was not either a tentacle or egg down his throat. Chrysalis, however, very clearly did not care for his comfort, taking her time with each egg in the dim, green glow of the nursery, other eggs settled into the moss, the ones that had not yet found a surrogate to be planted into. He was sure, with a sickening twist of his stomach that he would rather not have felt, that they would find their way into his body one way or another too, trembling as that thick length of tentacle made a huge bulge down his throat.

He'd thought he had gotten away with it, tail clamped down as he coughed up slime, eyes wide and wide, mane clinging wetly to his forehead as sweat darkened his hide. Maybe that was it, maybe he'd be left alone then, given enough time while they thought him sweetly obedient to their whims that he would be able to plot some kind of escape. His hooves settled into the moss and he exhaled as Chrysalis smirked, a tentacle easing out of one of her drones that stood back and to the side where he could not see that there was just the one left.

With his stomach heavy with eggs, bulging out more and more, resting on the ground, he swallowed hard, not expecting the sharp jab of a tentacle up under his tail. Under his tentacle bondage, he could not even squirm as she forced his tail hole open without any kind of warning as to what she was doing or what was happening to him, the curled length taking with it an egg as her slime seemingly numbed him, just a little, to the obscene stretch.

That's how she got past my gag reflex...

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Ah, changeling magic was a wonderful thing to behold but that hardly meant that Arctic was at all comfortable with everything that was happening to him, the chamber full of eggs bar from where the drones, Chrysalis and him were. As much as the pony grunted and whimpered, a tentacle stuffed into his mouth to keep him quieter, he knew just how helpless he was to everything taking place, his tail hole shooting through with pain from that old scar as he was uncomfortably stretched. That had never been pleasurable for him, not unless a lot of play was undergone beforehand or he was serving...who was it again? He sucked on that tentacle as if he'd forgotten where he was all over again, the pony's eyes half-lidding in a sultry, green glow.

To serve...Chrysalis. That was what he was there for, yes. Not anypony else, just the changeling, the changeling queen. Nothing else mattered but her even as his tail hole throbbed painfully, the tentacle and slime hardly numbing that old discomfort in the slightest even while they rendered him perfectly stretchable for a load of eggs. The last drones had their eggs scooped out as his stomach bulged, a hefty dose of slime poured into him too from the tentacles.

In fact, it seemed like the changeling queen took even more pleasure from that side, letting her tentacles secrete more and more changeling slime, her drones pressing in to rub up against him. They did not possess enough magic to abuse him with tentacles too, but they could nip and bite, saliva coating him, nuzzling his neck and crooning while they pressed into his balls. They adored the fact that his body was ripe and plump with their queen's eggs too and could hardly stay away as their protective instincts kicked in, wings buzzing as they ground into him, some even managing to find his cock underneath his stomach and tuck themselves into the gap between his nuts and rapidly inflating belly.

There, they could take their pleasure too while Chrysalis dominated him so easily that it was effortless, feeding egg after egg up into his tail hole, although she did spare a couple for his muzzle too, just for variety. His mouth may have been plugged up again after each egg passed down his throat but the seal of goo across the head of his cock, forming a cap, meant that her changelings could ride and mount him time after time again without worrying about him exploding and letting her eggs out. The very purpose of their riding him meant that more cum still flowed back into his balls, his nuts reproducing the seed that they had thought they had lost. Ah, as the changelings understood his body more and more, it meant that they were opened up to abuse him in ever more interesting ways, his body up for use and free for use when it came to them at all times.

His cock ached and throbbed, tail hole trying to squeeze down, pleasure colliding with pain as he was filled from both ends. Arctic tried rock his hips, need coming up trumps in the game of control, but he was tied down by tentacles, his body accosted and mauled on one side by changelings as they pressed their hooves into his nuts and belly, feeling out the shapes of the eggs within. One speared herself back onto his shaft, humping and grinding, taking more and more of his fat length inside her, but whatever pleasure there was for Arctic to take from such penetration was terrifyingly fleeting, his mouth hanging open as his nuts rumbled with a load that was never destined to be spent. It was probably fair to say that it was not just cum that tried to force its way down his cock with the onslaught of failed orgasms, everything denied to him, time after time again. No, it was slime too, plenty of goo, the wetness of it clinging everywhere even as they changelings marked him with it, smearing it in with wicked little smiles on their fanged muzzles.

But the main concern of Arctic's was in how his stomach bulged, swelling with more and more slime and eggs, lumpy and grotesque and entirely not how his body should have looked. He'd never before considered just how it would feel to have eggs in his stomach but he was treated to it fair and square as Chrysalis' tentacle thickened up under his tail, tenderly teasing the egg down his passage, through his guts and up into his stomach. It knew exactly what to do without actually injuring her host and surrogate, the victim of the moment, as he was far from the first that she had filled with eggs. Of course, those victims had been tucked up in a nice, cosy chrysalis for their use, the slime covering them and taking care of pesky bodily functions, like breathing, for them, while she thought that Arctic was one that she would have to keep out for use for a little while longer, even if not in the nursery.

The tentacles took advantage of him even more, Chrysalis slowing down and winding down as she took her leave of him like the perfect fuck-toy, something that she didn't have to consider the feelings of after the act. She cared for her drones more than she did for him (after all, they had been the ones to stay with her through thick and thin) and twisted her tentacle through his guts, stretching them out, easing him out, forcing him into a form that was better suited to her eggs. Her magic seeped into him, allowing his body to welcome in the manipulation, though Arctic's eyes practically bulged out of his skull as it wormed its way right through him.

Such a disconcerting sensation, a feeling that he should have never have had to have for his own, to bear witness too in the most intimate, coercive, primal form. And yet she had his body with which to do exactly as she pleased, the tentacle writhing inside him as he could only, faintly, thank any listening gods (for Princess Celestia surely could not have been looking in on him at that time) for the fact that he was still there, still alive, able to breathe and carry on the best he could. It was all he could hope for as she pushed out her tentacle through his stomach, laughing out loud with a cruel twang, mocking him for how easily his flesh bulged.

"A changeling exoskeleton would never be so weak," she pointed out, jabbing a mocking hoof into his side. "Perhaps I could have fit even more eggs into you but my drones are empty... Oh, but why not?"

Her tone rasped out hungrily on those final few words as he shrank from her, breath fluttering weakly in his chest, heart beat growing weaker and weaker under her constrictive grasp and the weight of his body. He was a vessel for her to toy with, her hunger for his lust sated at that time, pressing her slit to his lips again as his tongue, with a horrible kind of hungry, delved back into her. After spending so long eating her out before her throne, it almost felt as if he belonged there, down on the ground, a pony created solely to give her pleasure, running his tongue up and around her tail hold, the web of her tail flowing down and over his head, before thrusting eagerly back in again.

That was something he could do. That was something he could lean into. That was something that was very nearly almost enough to distract him from the enormous pressure in his stomach and balls, how they ached and strained and pulsed, striving to contain what his body had already been forced to. He was not in such a position that he could choose what happened to him as the gush of her orgasm swamped his muzzle, cloying and sticky and clinging to him with such a thick aroma that he doubted that it would ever wash out of his coat. That, of course, was the least of his worries.

Her tentacles helped her take care of what she could not usually do without the aid of magic from such a position, grinding back on his snout with her marehood tugging and winking while the tentacles fed the last eggs from the nursery, the ones that so desperately needed a soft, warm, cocoon of a vessel to carry them, into her ovipositor. The tip puckered and swelled, sucking up the eggs as if they were large drops of water, the bulge of them softly travelling back up into her body, although it was only to be temporary.

Chrysalis groaned openly with her tail flagged, showing off her sex, her enjoyment, everything she had for her drones, buzzing and flitting around her, doing such a good job for her in ensuring that Arctic's lust never dropped, not even for a second. That was one of the reasons that they managed to keep going and going, the fact that they were drinking in his lust like syrup from a goblet, slurping it all down as they rode his cock with fervent thrusts of their hips. One drone even scrambled too eagerly onto her back to get onto him, only the tip squeezing into her vent before she was howling and writhing in climax, yet the orgasm that she sent through the stallion was one that rumbled right up back into his nuts. Each subsequent swelling of his orbs cushioned her eggs, contained within them, more and more, the queen herself shivering with anticipation of the larvae and drones that would hatch forth, the army that would change the course of her hive and Equestria itself.

Yet that time was for her too and she could not stretch his balls too much, only for fear of her eggs and not due to any concern about Arctic at all. Her ovipositor just could not resist the urge for a little more, a few more, just to see how much he could take, although the queen was sure that she would test those limits time after time again during the course of subsequent years to come. He would not be let go in a hurry, that was for sure!

He should have expected her shifting position, a hoof dominantly pressing into his ball as she nestled in against him, waving a drone off his cock so that she had precedence over his body. There were no kind words and no kind of warning either as her ovipositor pressed up to the tip of his cock again, inserting itself slowly, patiently, having no need to rush things. There was time enough to take what she needed and Arctic panted heavily through his nostrils around a tentacle as she made sure that his mouth was stuffed full in the absence of her cunny.

Another egg, slower and larger than the last ones, pushed down her ovipositor and through the length of his cock, a bulky, visible bulge that could not have been denied even by those that sought to. He had to face up to it as he moaned into a drone's cunny, his muzzle in constant use while the others massaged his balls, encouraging him to orgasm even as he could not, pleasure denied as one egg and then another plopped into his grossly overfilled nuts.

The pony panted, head reeling, the room spinning about him. Dehydrated, he tried to lick his lips but was only given the pleasure of eating out another drone as Chrysalis finally deposited every last single egg into him, her ovipositor sliding back out with cruel pacing. It was as if she wanted him to feel her complete and utter dominance over him for as long as possible, sensations overwhelming without the bliss that could have at least made them a little easier to bear. Alas, that was the way of changelings and the stallion would have been a fool to do more than shake his head and bow it to their whims, their slave to do with as they willed. To someone who was truly submissive at heart, it was not all that bad, as much as it pained him to think it.

In fact... It could well have been considered to be his true calling and place in life, pushing him on into his destiny. Maybe his time with Fluttershy had been merely a warm-up, breaking him down into the right frame of mind to be used by the changelings, to be of service to a queen and her drones. Her tentacle twisted inside him, pounding his throat and his tail hole, using him languidly, slowly, Chrysalis' breath coming more evenly than before. While she was working down from a high, her hind legs splattered with slime and her squirting orgasms, he was only just getting started, a part of him already beginning, if only slightly, to accept that his life was going to be different as a surrogate for changeling eggs, a cacophony of sex that a pony like him may not have considered entirely a bad thing.

No...

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He had to hold on, had to get back. He suckled on her tentacle, eyes turning adoringly up to Chrysalis, his overlord forever, the one who owned him. What did anything else matter as long as he was protected?

Not here...

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But who wasn't there? Who else mattered? Arctic tried to rock his hips back, as high in the air as they were pushed, the pain under his tail, for he had never been worked up there to the point of pleasure, rising by the second. No, he couldn't think about that, not her, not anything else. He had a queen to please and serve, after all. What else could matter?

Was there anyone else that could matter? It was a question that his shattered mind, not even then, could answer honestly. His balls were large enough to hold many ponies - perhaps even up to fifteen? It was hard to say but his mind tried to make sense of it all still, his stomach churning, swollen, lumpy, the sheer number of eggs inside him aching to be released. How large was he? He didn't want to know but it was clear to see that his stomach was larger even than his nuts, swollen with so much slime that everything was padded out, groaning and squeaking, his body a vessel for Changeling destruction.

Arctic whimpered, head hanging as low as it was able, chin pushing onto the ground. He couldn't put his head flat due to the hugeness of his stomach, bulging out with more eggs and goo than he could have ever imagined was possible to fill a pony while, panting softly, need residing within him but, even then, he knew that it would not be a need that he was due to have fulfilled. What needs could a pony like him have when the queen took care of what needs he fulfilled for her and her drones?

No... No. No, he had to serve them, had to do what they wanted to do. That was all there was for him, all he was good for, to the changelings, yes. No. Yes. Not even his thoughts came clearly as Chrysalis stepped back to survey her work, chin resting on her hoof as her horn glowed green with changeling magic.

"The best surrogate that I could have had... And I shall have more eggs for you again, shortly, yes. You will be filled over and over and never know what it's like to not bulge with my eggs."

Her eyes gleamed.

"Is this not the life you dreamed of pony? I assure you that it is far more important than any life you could have been leading before..."

She knew nothing of his life and yet, in her hold and control, she knew everything of his current life, the two things different and the same simultaneously. But what did Chrysalis care when Arctic was solely there to serve a need and, well, he would serve that need better than anyone else she had cocooned to horde her eggs or even feed her drones with lust and a filtering, waning supply of love. Never again would they go hungry after they'd taken over villages, towns and cities - and more still! Arctic was key to bringing forth her army to take back what had been so very unjustly stolen from her, his bulging, swollen body an incubator in which her waiting eggs would rest and her fertilised eggs would soon hatch from.

Was he broken though? Oh, she didn't care anymore, stringing him up in her feeding chamber, for it seemed to be the best place for him at that time. Hardening goo coated him from his neck down to his cock and balls, although Chrysalis left those ready for the use of her changelings as he was strung up to the ceiling. In the feeding chamber, several feet off the ground, he hung there, head dropped and tongue lolling out, amongst chrysalises containing shadowy figures, not all of them ponies. Although he should have been more interested in who or what was in each of those cocoons, wrapped in slimy goo, perhaps not even alive anymore, it was hard for him to think of anything but his present situation with the drones still set on making good use of him.

He should have been too heavy for the goo hanging him from the ceiling like a fly in a spider's web, wriggling faintly, broken and yet still prey to leftover impulses of the body. They held him fast and secure, however, Chrysalis most certainly not wanting to risk the wellbeing of her eggs, while the remaining changeling drones who had not yet tired of him played with his body. Even while airborne, they could still grind themselves back onto his cock and fill their passages, bodies stretching to contain him, forcing him to repeat his orgasms even though they were slower than they had been before. Alas, even changelings could not go on forever as his balls heaved, a fresh dose of cum reverting into his nuts to make them churn and grumble all the more fervently.

They did not care for his wellbeing, only seeing him as something with which to sate their desires, perhaps a little more than an object there. That wasn't so bad, was it, to be something they could use? Arctic did not know, could not have said either way, not even able to hold his own head up as the tag at his throat glinted in the dim, glowing, green light of the chrysalises still containing the hides of ponies, dragons and gryphons alike. Together, they would rest there, waiting, all serving a purpose, although only one of them was actually aware of what was going on, moaning as he held Chrysalis' eggs, fertilised with his own sperm.

Still... He had not been completely broken.

No.

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He held onto the last remnants of himself as the changelings, finally, left him there, aching and exhausted, even though sleep very much was still not to come. Such sweet solace was not yet for him to take as he whimpered and shuddered, trying to find something that could ease him down into a softer state of mind, submission fading as Mistress Shy's tag hung more heavily and poignantly around his neck than ever. Chrysalis must not have seen the importance of it, not caring for pony ways as others in the world, even though they were not ponies, had come to see in time. But it was that glint of the dangling tag that Arctic clung to as his breath, very slowly, returned to normal, the eggs shifting and jostling against one another in the dark of the cavern, his only friends those who had had their lips silenced.

Arctic clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle jumped at the corner of his mouth, not caring for the pain that it brought with it. It was a good kind of pain, the kind of pain that reminded him that he was still alive, that he had stood up through everything that the changelings had driven him down into, submission aside. It didn't matter as long as he survived and was still there at the end of it, flanks heaving and his determination ringing through the clamour of a changeling plan that would not come to fruition. Not while he was the one carrying their eggs.

Exhaling slowly, he softened the muscles of his body, relaxing, easing out. Like coming out of sub-space, only, that time, he didn't have his mistress there to guide him. He could imagine that she was there though, a smile on her muzzle as she brushed out his mane, softening and gentling and all kinds of light and warmth that eased out the tension from his body after a long session. As strong and stern as she was, she was truly kind too and she did all she did to him knowing that all he wanted was to be at her hooves, serving her in any way that made her happy. That was where the difference between Fluttershy and the remaining changelings lay, only Arctic doubted the changelings would ever see that. They didn't care about things like that.

It'll be okay.

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The eggs in his stomach weighed heavily on his heart. The ones in his balls even more so. Still, the only pony in his mind's eye was her and that gave him strength. She always gave him strength.

He would find his Mistress Shy again.

He had to.