“For starters?” Doug glances down; her thin body looks downright emaciated, chitin hanging loose like skin over bones. Kind of like he did when he first got to Equestria, but down-home Apple cooking and exercise fixed that quite quickly. He likes her post-metamorphosis proportions, athletic instead of bulemic. “Would you need to go through…” He vaguely motions at the trough, dreading her answer, especially if she might need help. “All this again?”

Chrysalis grimaces at the thought. “Likely. With modifications, of course; my current arrangement is more suited for keeping whatever is inside me contained with as little impact on mobility as possible. Without the pressing need to retreat, I may sacrifice retention for less restrained retching. Closer to your musculature, or a bird, than an equine.”

“Hey, whatever works for you.” Doug, relieved she is doing well, finds his hands going to her barrel, massaging the once-taut sides that bow and flex with even slight pressure. “I do hope it isn’t as difficult.” He pauses for a moment, frowning. “Did you ever have to do this before?”

“No.” Chrysalis shakes her head for emphasis, but without the contriteness Doug might expect. “The creatures I consumed stayed inside me, their entirety broken down for components. Any newly hatched grubs are not capable of consuming such sustenance directly, having never needed to manifest the requisite organs. Perhaps later broods can be modified, but it is too late for these.” She motions to the whole eggs with a sigh. “I shall spawn a specialized ‘ling to process the material, to test and refine the capabilities of such a system, but until I am able to modify my- or themselves acceptably? I shall persevere.”

“You would spawn a prototype? Not a finished product?” Doug’s face scrunches up. “What would happen when they are obsolete, when you craft a better drone?”

“We are all prototypes,” Chrysalis answers without malice. “Even me. To some degree or another, we all have room for improvement, or modification to better suit our environment. Or are you so delusional as to think you are perfect, as you are now?”

“Of course not,” Doug retorts. “Like you, I’m trying to think of ways to improve. It’s, just, not an avenue I would have tried to pursue. Biological changes take much longer for me, generations if you can do it at all, so I have to innovate through my actions and ideas. Like, could you eat in smaller increments?” He looks at the trough full of sustenance. He glances at her, worried, after realizing that he’s offering a piece of advice that just might make her angry.

Chrysalis sighs to herself. “Would you buy a single apple a dozen times instead of a dozen apples at once?”

“Mm, I see your point. Especially if you’ve runed these to preserve the contents.” Doug rubs at her chitin, hoping she can feel it, and slowly moves up to her neck while pushing harder. “You said before you can’t transfer the love directly?”

“Not in the quantities they require, not without actively draining more from those around me.” Chrysalis leans against him with a light, happy rumble from her throat. “Your affection is… appreciated, if difficult to access.”

“As I like to say, I’m here to help.” Doug takes a deep breath, enjoying the closeness. A morbid part of him perks up, and he can’t help but ask, “Do you gain anything magically from consuming a creature?”

The happy rumble ceases. “No.” After a long moment Chrysalis turns to regard him. “Alive or dead, it makes no difference. Yet I would eat some alive. Do you think me a monster for acting as such?”

“No more than any of us,” Doug says, drawing a curious cock of the head from Chrysalis. “I mean, I eat meat. So do half the creatures on this planet. I don’t know if I would eat another sapient creature, especially alive, except in dire circumstances.” He takes a moment to mull that over, eventually nodding to himself. “Your method may be unique to you, draining love or emotions. And you’ve made the decision to engage in it against their will or knowledge. I believe we all have some capacity to fraudulently exploit those around us, taking more than agreed upon, or subverting the system to our own benefit. Except for Celestia, she’s perfect.” He smirks, winking as she scoffs, and lightly rubs at her side. “But we can all change for the better. Do you still think that you are a monster?”

“Of course.” Chrysalis sneers for a moment, then looks away with a smidgen of contrition. Every facial feature pulls tight. “Only recently do I regret it. Perhaps, were I to find the absurd solution of sharing love earlier…” She shrugs. “Alas. Draining creatures of their magic always felt so natural, so intuitive. Consuming their bodies only provided their physical components, when I had need.” She turns back, regarding Doug curiously. “You do not talk of this with your mares.”

Doug can’t tell if her last sentence is a command, a statement of fact, or a question. “It’s not really come up, no. I mean, I know they’re capable of performing some heinous actions, like Twilight mind controlling half the town to chase some doll of hers. My mind goes to potential applications, like sowing chaos on a battlefield. It’s something that… I don’t know, I don’t feel they are comfortable with, even if it’s just a theoretical discussion. Along the lines of, if they have a hammer in their toolbox, they’re afraid that more problems might look like nails.”

“Curious.” Chrysalis regards Doug closely, inspecting every part of him. “We have rarely discarded a tool for being unpalatable, or even impractical. Instead we file the implications away, the potential applications, in the hope it might serve in the future.”

“Exactly! I guess we’re more alike than I thought,” Doug remarks, smiling at the changeling.

She exposes a sliver more of her fangs as she returns it. “And now you wish nothing more than to utilize us in your grand scheme.”

“You’re not wrong,” Doug replies with a chuckle. He only offers slight resistance when Chrysalis spins and pushes him to the floor. He braces against her barrel as she straddles him, heavy but not crushing, not quite willing to let her lay against his naked chest. “Though I thought that was your plan.”

“I guess we’re more alike than I thought,” Chrysalis echoes, tongue tasting the air. She frowns to herself when the desired pheromones are not present, nor the physical signs of arousal. So she slows, gradually lowering, not forcefully demanding as is her wont. Her breaths come long and slow, blowing heated air against the crest adorning his chest. It would have been an accolade, before, to have bedded one under the Celestial aegis. But now, with her lavish offer to him?

“You resist,” Chrysalis demands, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes focus like drills, trying and failing to bore into Doug’s skull. Metaphorically, of course; his bones would yield like paper to her bite. “Why?”

“May I make a request?” Doug cautiously asks as her legs settle next to him, trapping him, perpetually bared fangs inches away from his throat, tail creeping up his inner thigh.

A tinge of fear permeating the cavern brings Chrysalis to a standstill. Physically overpowering the human would be so easy, something she knows he desires, even if he might be unwilling at this exact moment. Why else would he have responded so passionately to her earlier offer to bear his young?

“You desire a different position?” she guesses. Her muzzle dips lower to gently nuzzle his neck. “Or do you wish us to act more as your mares, acquiscent and affectionate?”

Doug reaches up to rub at her cheek, glad she has ceased her aggressive approach. Still, his hand shakes from the thought, unlikely as it might be, that she desires something more than just his company. “I guess it’s not so much a request as a condition.”

“You wish to put a condition on us bedding you.” Chrysalis snorts, more amused than affronted. “Have you always been such a poor negotiator, or did you learn it from your lead mare?” She waves away the objection on his lips. “Very well. Under what circumstances do you wish to fill our belly with your seed?”

“Well, you were talking about prototype ‘lings before. ” Doug waits for Chrysalis to nod, which she does. “And how, with me, you think you’ll have ones that end up more like you. I’m curious if that would make new variations, I don’t know, easier to determine. Craft, whatever word you use.”

“Adapt. Change.” The smallest of smirks spreads on her muzzle. “It would appear that your youngest would like to become some sort of evolution master, were her discordant studies to bear fruit.”

“Celestia help us if that’s the case,” Doug returns with only slight trepidation.

“Doubtful.” Chrysalis sits back, pondering his question. “No,” she ultimately decides. “There is similar randomness, a stochastic result, with you.” It pains her to admit, but she does. “Within certain parameters, of course, but I am not able to completely determine the outcome. More attempts will ameliorate that effect, and make my modifications more effective.”

“Huh.” Doug reaches forward as Chrysalis gets a pensive look in her eye, her focus on nothing in particular. “But you can partially control it, like some sort of O and O point buy?”

“Roughly, though there are far more than six attributes to vary. As well, some designs are far more suited for certain roles, and leaving those archetypes tends to spawn ‘lings worse off in every regard. You have seen the difference between guards, infiltrators, and nurses.” Chrysalis cocks her head as she looks down at him. “You seem far more interested in this than I imagined.”

“I spent a lot of hours studying rulebooks back in the day,” Doug admits with a wide grin. “Optimizing builds, finding synergies. It’s a lot like the weather work I do around here.” His face falls as he realizes. “Actually, much as I want to stay, I should probably be heading back. I’ve got a bit to catch up on.” He leaves unsaid that the mares are probably curious about what he has been up to.

“Mm.” Chrysalis steps away. She’s disappointed, but not particularly. “So be it.” She walks over to a section of wall as her horn flares green; it slides, revealing long lines of sigils and preservation runes. On top is half a cow, headless and split lengthwise like a stick of firewood. She motions with a lack of reverence that Doug finds disconcerting. “After three days I will be finished with her. I will have a better idea of the modifications to make, and we shall try then.”

Doug nods dumbly as Chrysalis begins working her jaw back and forth. He idly wonders if the cow was cut with a saw, like the table saw the Apples use to cut trees into boards, or with magic. He doesn’t remember Pharynx asking to borrow that saw, or installing one at the abattoir. If she did it herself? The fact that she (and likely any changeling) is capable of cutting a cow-sized object in half only adds a small amount to her already intimidating reputation.

Much as he wants to watch Chrysalis consume her next meal, morbid as that is - and he has no doubt she wouldn’t mind giving a show, like she is a massive boa constrictor on a National Geographic special - he waves goodbye. She waves back absently, her focus on her meal, and he heads back up the way he came, hoping the stench on him washes off easily.

Next Chapter: Ch. 73 - Healthy Mind, Part Five Estimated time remaining: 20 Hours, 25 Minutes