On our trip to the Insect Kingdoms to secure a relationship with the population of the Great Bee Colony, the bees split us up. Presented herein is a collection of tales from each of us and our experience with the fascinating beings that make the great hive their home. I shall mark the points-of-view of each character while supplying only minimal editorialization when necessary.
—Eshere, Scribe of Tik Tik
——
Tik Tik
After stepping into the inner chamber of the colony, I found myself in a multitude of hexagonal rooms lined with white and wriggling larvae. They stared out at me through their cozy cribs, agitated by my sudden arrival. It is fascinating that biology allows for such a drastic transformation between the immature and fully adult forms of some species, and I wonder sometimes why there isn’t more distinction in transitional periods in others. What would a larval kobold look like? Or, are we the larval forms of greater things—the true successors to dragons?
It wasn’t long before I heard the voice who spoke to me again, this time supplying comforting coos to the children lined up in the chambers.
My first time seeing a queen was one of wonder. Her lower body trailed down between her legs in a long, almost dress-like abdomen. Her legs were shapely and robust compared to her subordinates, and she stood tall and regal, at least twice or maybe three times taller than the average bee.
Immediately upon seeing her, I knew to give my deference, and I bowed. Glad I could speak in my native tongue with her, I addressed her with beautiful proclamations of my appreciation of her appreciation. Of course, I needed to ask her how much she knew about me.
“We know much here in my kingdom,” the queen said, cradling a white larva in her hands, petting the baby bee with a mother’s gentleness. “And we share our knowledge with the next generation.”
She held up the little grub, its large eyes staring at me. “This is Tik Tik, little one, and she’s come to make a deal with us. What shall we do? Please, Tik Tik, approach us.”
I carefully tip-toed through the honeycombed hallway and approached the offered child. The queen allowed me to hold onto the wriggling babe, who nuzzled against me with its warm and slimy body.
“She’s a beauty, is she not?” asked the queen. She squatted down, and as she did, a dozen of her servitors crawled up and formed a throne where she could lounge. More workers crawl up to sit on her lap, climb over her shoulders, or sit at her feet. Without saying anything, they set to work, licking over their queen, worshiping their body with a sense of duty that not even the kobolds back home lavish upon Tikana, Queen of the Dragon’s Heir.
“She is to be queen one day,” the queen said. “For I will be leaving this colony soon. It grows far too large for this home we’ve established, and we seek a new one.”
“That’s very good, oh queen!” I responded, gripping the precious cargo with a renewed sense of self-preservation. “Because my friends and I come here to discuss trade with your people, and I would very much love to study the ways of your kind, and they seem most intimate.”
The queen chuckled, leaning her cheek upon her hand. By her wave, two bees approached the child in my hands and relieved me of the heavy burden. They carried her between them and lay her inside one of the combs. Builders gathered around, waiting for their moment as the nurses knelt beside the chamber, their hands clasped dutifully, bowing their heads.
A white and thick substance oozed from them in reverent tears that dripped down from their heads and mouths into the chamber, and the new queenling cooed and squeaked as she was showered in their offering.
The queen spoke up. “I’m sure you have many questions about our ways. We’ve learned much about you, oh Tik Tik, and your friends. News of your Tournament of Pleasure has traveled to the Colony and fascinated us. We shall be happy to show you the delights that we have to offer, however alien they may be to your understanding. In return, We shall be happy to learn what you can offer us, both in business and in what you have already shared with the other colony members.”
“It shall be an honor, oh Queen,” I said, keeping my head low. “But what shall we look at first? Shall I present a gift to you of knowledge or of service? Or shall we move to the development of the business?”
Crossing one leg over the other, the queen tilted her head to the same side, humming to herself as her attendants shifted to accommodate her. "Neither, I think,” she said. “After all, something is pressing that we must attend to, and in that sense, I include you as we have a guest.”
My curiosity was certainly piqued, but I had no idea how strange and life-changing this experience would be. As I was about to ask the nature of this guest, the very person made herself known with the rumbling of the entire chamber. The bees each clung to their honeyed halls while I fell face-first into an amber room, submerged in the sugary substance that was our goal this whole time.
With great speed, the bees pulled me out, leaving me coated in the ooze. I had little chance to clean myself when the guardian wall clambered open, and the magnificent empress that stepped through made herself known.
With scales of such a metallic sheen that knights had all tried and failed to emulate and the magnificent presence with which she held herself, I, a lowly mage, had finally come face-to-face with a dragon.
And this time, I had no divine intervention to protect me from her.
“Presenting,” proclaimed a bowing bee, “Defender of the Insect Kingdoms. Envoy of the Dragon’s Council: Katadanyatarinya the Brilliant!”

Baker
I’m happy you’d ask me to divulge my experience with the bees, sweetums. They’ve been wonderful new friends and partners. Where should I start? Is the beginning good?
Well, Tik Tik and I had discussed the idea of gathering ingredients for various this-and-that, including, of course, the decadent treats I have planned for special occasions and promotions. When her trader friends at the Great Caravan brought a small chunk of crystallized honey to my attention, I just had to find the source of the scrumptious treat.
With Tik Tik’s help, I found its source, and it was off to the college to learn all I could about the bees and the bees. If that joke works, of course, you can keep it in.
Adventuring isn’t my strongest suit, you know. I was built for modeling, and I chose baking as my profession. Somehow I stumbled upon prize fighting and masochistic demonstrations, but I didn’t think I needed those skills on this expedition. 
What your readers do need to know, of course, is that no matter how I’m dressed, I’m ready to help out however I can. It’s a bit of a holdover from my days of service. I was built to be a model and a pleasure piece. There’s still something special about helping people, even at my own expense. I’m just so glad I get to do it with bodies that I bake for myself. Because of that, I can laugh in the face of danger and do what I can to make my partners happy.
After my strawberry shortcake body was punctured and battered by that rather skilled warrior bee, I was standing before the colony in a tattered mess of my cute adventure gear with my strawberry filling oozing out of my gaping chest hole and all over that cell-lined floor.
To add insult to injury, I didn’t find out until after we got there that the cells were too short for my body frame. Oh, when the books we read said that the bees were person-sized, we really should have done the due diligence to fact-check our sources.
I have experimented more with new body types recently. If I had known that our hosts were more gnome sized than human-sized, I would have gone smaller. But that was not going to help me there. I was low on jelly and energy. I sat down on one of the cells, lamenting the sorry state of the body I had spent so much time on.
One of the little darlings approached me with those large curious eyes. How her mouth clicked, and her antennae twitched told me all I needed to know.
“Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” I told her, “but I made this body scrumptious for my business partners, as a gift to your leader.”
“Scrumptious?” she asked, that curiosity and excitement brimming in her voice.
“Oh yes,” I said. “I’m fully edible, and I made my body so sweet and fruity. It’s a dessert fit for a queen.  Well, it was until I ruined it.”
“The queen eats all she needs,” she said as others crawled up to join her. “The workers are the ones who need the most energy to serve her. We shall tell you of her gift if you let us have you.”
Cynwrig, the little dear, was all aghast at the suggestion. That beetle boy, well, he just was going on and on about how we shouldn’t let the bees have their way and that we should find Tik Tik. I know that Tik Tik can handle herself, and I know full well when a body of mine has its limit.
So, I told them, right then and there, “well, if you want to have a good dose of energy with the sweetest taste you can have in Anteronia, look no further, darlings.”
Now, wouldn’t you know it, but that was all that those busy little bees needed to pounce right onto me. Oh, how I would hate to be an enemy of the colony who cannot survive such an attack!
A moment after their pounce, I was covered in a pile of buzzing bodies, all of their fuzzy forms rubbing against me, warming me up something fierce. Hands and mandible ripped past the rest of my remaining clothes, leaving me an exposed spongy boy practically squished under their weight. And the more they pressed into me, oh, the more that strawberry filling left me, and the more they writhed on top of me, mm, the more I loosened up.
Jelly was running down my eyes in tears of joy, knowing they were having the time of their life. The pressure, oh, got to be so much that I’m embarrassed to say that I coughed up a big old chunk of strawberry. I told the boys at the bakery to use jelly, but someone apparently got a little jam in the mix.
One of the bees lapped that hunk right off me and delved her tongue deeper into my mouth, slurping up the goodness there. Of course, I gave her some taffy tongue, which she happily suckled on while her friends licked over my stinger hole.
I could tell from that first taste that they were telling their sister bees all about the taste and the experience because more and more were latching lips over me and looking for something to drink. Oh, it was full of tickles that whole time, and there was an innocence in how they went about going at me, but all that innocence disappeared when I got a bit of a nip on my dickie.
Why did I make this body have that? Well, I didn’t know if the queen would want to indulge in other pursuits besides tasting delicacies. It’s always good to be prepared, darling, and I was pretty prepared for when that hungry little busybody bit down and took the whole thing right off. I don’t think they expected that cream filling there, but they lapped it until I was dry.

Is that all too graphic for you, darling? No? Sorry, but I need to ask. There are people out there who are sensitive to such things. They look at me and think I’m some sort of precious baby that needs to be protected when in reality, I don’t even know if I’m even alive as they would describe it.
Have you ever thought about that sort of thing, molasses? Life and death and all that? The people at work often talk about killing me, but they really can’t. When my spirit goes out of one form it just zips on over to the next, and I always have a backup ready. Even if I’m not prepared, it doesn’t bother me. I was created to serve, though my pursuits have changed from my original manufacture. I perform to the sweet end every time I can.
A pleasure to all the senses—that’s what I want to be. That was always the end goal of my pursuits, to be sure. And I got it, too, with your help. Of course, you and Tik Tik know all about that. “Baker’s Recipe” is a popular read at the little coffee table library we have at the bakery, you know. People can’t put it down!
Once I discovered the secrets of making these oh-so-scrumptious bodies that story talks about, I knew I had to share the delights they could provide to everyone who wanted to indulge.
And, my, oh my, did those bees indulge. Most clients back home are so nervous when you present them with an entire body of tasty treats to satisfy themselves. I don’t expect people to eat me whole, even at wild parties. Some stay behind and watch in terror at what their friends get into.
But not with the bees. Oh, no, they tore me apart layer by cakey layer, stuffing chunks of shortcake and frosting and jam into their mouths and humming happily as they flew away.
There’s a certain magic you probably wouldn’t understand, being unable to feel pain as less and less of you exists in the physical space. It is a sacrifice of one’s self for the delight of others, and I cannot think of a better way to serve someone than that.
I heard little Cynwrig the whole time. I feel bad for him. You had to hold the boy back as he tried to rescue me, pulling bees off the pile and screaming my name.
One of the bees had grabbed my cheeks while I was making out with another of her companions, only to yank my head clear off my shoulders. What a rush to lose connection to the rest of myself and watch as the body went limp. 
Cynwrig, poor, poor boy, screamed when we locked eyes, but I gave him a big smile with jam dripping out from the sides of my lips and onto the ground, and I told him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine! Better than!”
And, of course, he fell over right at that point, and the little muffin lost his lunch. How truly sad. Remind me to ask those bees if they need a job in cleaning. Wouldn’t they just look so sweet in little dresses as they dust and shine things? They were on him in a moment, and the cells were spotless.
Still trying to figure out precisely what they did with him after that. I immediately realized that I was in a much better position to state my case to the queen. The bees and I were on the same page as the one carrying me held me close to her chest and crawled deeper into that city of eager workers.
When I arrived to see the queen, she was lounging on her throne of servants, receiving quite the spa day, but she sat up and clapped her hands together, saying, “and here’s the Baker! The energy output from your offering is phenomenal. How do you do it?”
The worker placed me on the queen’s lap, and she gave me a nice firm squeeze so I wouldn’t roll away. Her hands played over my hair in such a doting manner. It was pretty nice, actually.
“Well, your highness,” I said, “It’s all a matter of using the right ingredients and bringing out their greatest value.”
“We detected something in you that is familiar to us,” she says. “How did you come upon our honey?”
“Ah, hah! I’m glad you noticed,” I said, rocking back and forth on her lap. “It is the very reason I came to meet you, queenie! I was able to secure a small amount from the caravans. Imagine what I can do with a larger supply?”
“You would make more energy stores for us?”
“Oh, honey,” I said, laying on the charm, “I’ll make the best honey cakes for your gals and save the body for those who like it the most.”
“We think it would be best to not have the body. It was a strange experience but not unpleasant,” she said as she scooped me up, holding me in the palms of two hands. “You are a member of Anteronia? You can give us a place there to extend our colony?”
“I can offer a couple of your gals a job, at least! Anteronia’s a big place.”
Her thoughtful hums were so cute, darling. I wish writers could put them down, but I have no idea how they’d do it. Anyway, she hummed to me a moment before placing me in her servant's waiting hands. “Very well, let us draft up an agreement. Your friends can enjoy the hospitality of our home while we do business.”
And that, of course, is how I secured myself a fantastic deal with the bees.
Is there more to my story, dear? Well, there are some details I’ll never tell. You know I’ve signed an NDA, and there are some things you never divulge about a lady, sweetums.
Let’s just say Tik Tik may find her a bit too much.

Eshere
Baker’s gentle nudge towards existentialism in the previous chapter fits quite well with some of my own thoughts that crossed my mind as I visited the bees. I never entirely understood what I was, and I don’t think I currently understand it now. Tik Tik gave my species the name “Sex Jelly,” but even that is not quite an accurate description of what I am. I indeed enjoy the fluids excreted by lovers as my primary nourishment. Still, over my time as a sapient being, I’ve come to enjoy many more byproducts of different living beings.
For instance, as stated in “Baker’s Recipe,” the humble egg–a vessel designed to house a new life. It was abandoned when no male fertilized it with his own delicious semen. Many consume that piece without associating it with sexuality, and yet I can slurp cum and be seen as a degenerate monster for it. Why is this so?
In my time with the bees, I realized that perhaps the taboo against sexual fluids as means of sustenance comes from the human-centric world view. Is it because humanoids cannot create their own tools from within themselves? For myself and the bees, this is different. Their bodies are designed to gather and store nectar from flowers. Like me, it is a part of their essence to use their own forms to accomplish what they can. They develop tools out of their bodies, and I can make my body into a tool. I collect memories and impressions within me when I feed. The bees keep all their memories in the aether through constant communication, with little to no loss in data when traveling from bee to bee to bee. What does this mean?
While Tik Tik had gone off to speak with their queen, I searched for what else a bee could do with themselves. How did they build their cell walls? Where did their waxy weapons come from? Most importantly, what was the secret to the creation of their honey?
The first question I sought was an answer to how the bees could build so much with so few resources. Their homes, tools, and weapons were all constructed with the same wax. But how did they make it?
“Observe,” said my guide as I inquired about the origin, and she scrunched up her face and puffed out her cheeks. She clenched her fists and tensed up, humming with a strain. Her rear wiggled, and as she grunted to a louder degree, flakes emerged from the scales of her fuzzy exoskeleton.
A second bee crawled up to her companion, scooping the white bits and molding them in her hands to form a ball. Then she plugged in a hole in the wall, thinning out the roundness to create another of the many cells.
After I had witnessed this, I couldn’t help but see it happening everywhere, thousands of times. It’s simply fascinating. I was reminded how bits of my form could be used in the culinary construction of dessert goods, but is it possible to learn their skill to create more permanent things?
I must rely on direct communication to find out, as any attempts to sup upon the fluids of any individual bee leaves me with only bits and pieces of their collective knowledge. I verified this by sneaking a bit of the wax as it fell from the bee’s abdomen. It’s almost as if the hive's mind is its own thing—a more incredible being that I cannot access through a single bee alone. The implications are as frightening as they are exciting.
“Our wax makes our colony strong,” said the constructor bee, patting the last of the materials down. “It keeps us safe, and it houses all our materials.”
“We are the colony,” added another bee, this one carrying heavy loads of nectar in her legs.
I asked her what she would do with that material, as I believed it to be related to the object of our party’s investigation.
“Turning it into honey!” the bee beamed.
As I suspected.
“I would very much like to learn how this happens,” I said, hoping it would be acceptable and not some trade secret. The bees continued to surprise me, but if the honey itself was unique in how they create it, that would be quite the discovery for our business.
The bee motioned me to follow her with not a moment’s hesitation. So I followed, slurping through the corridors and around the endless chain of bodies that made up the ever-growing and ever-working madness of movement.
My mind travels to my biology texts, in which I hear that many lifeforms are made up of things known as cells. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be a single being made up of so many little things, working in tandem, growing, working, and dying. How can Tik Tik be Tik Tik and not just a colony of tiny slimes like myself, piloting a giant world that makes her up? And yet, when I delve into Tik Tik’s slit and drink deep of her knowledge and love, I obtain not the experience of individual beings but of a single kobold.
It is a conundrum. Am I somehow incomplete for being a single core? Or am I a part of a whole, and out there, there is some cosmic entity that I am a part of, and all this work I do as Tik Tik’s scribe is some near-mindless task to this slime god?
Am I discovering not only sentience for my species but also spirituality?
But enough on that tangent. I would strike it from this record if Tik Tik would allow me, but she values my asides. The journey was quick enough, even though those thoughts bothered me even then, but soon we found a mildly less congested chamber.
“Alright, gals,” the bee announced, sitting by one of the combs. She lifted her leg and held it by the thigh, the nectar in her leg pouch sloshing around. “Let’s show our friend Eshere how we make honey!”

The process of honey-making began simply and naturally enough. One of the bees approached her fellow worker, crawling onto her knees to reach her. She held onto the fluid-filled thigh of her friend, gently caressing the basket. She leaned in, pressing her mouth to the thing, gently sucking, letting out a coo.
Their day-to-day work is quite intimate for a species that had so far shunned casual lovemaking. As her leg baskets diminished from her friend’s suction, the bee before me tilted her head back, letting out gentle sighs of a mix of pleasure and relief.
Once her friend had found her fill, the bee lay there expectantly, watching, trembling as the taste-tester sat up. She licked her lips, humming and buzzing, and then she patted the forager on the thigh with a soft smile. “Good to go!” she said.
The forager squealed and hopped over to one of the empty cells, where she crossed one leg over the other, squeezing out the delicious product from her with such gripping strength. The nectar sloshed around and fell into the cell, where another worker arrived with some of their newly-made wax and sealed it up.
“Over here, Eshere,” said one worker, who directed me to another cell. This one they opened, and the tester scurried to, nodding in approval. “This one will do.”
The worker lay upon her belly and dipped her head low into the cell, slurping up the stored nectar with delighted sighs, grasping the edges of the cell and rubbing it with excitement.
“We love to do our work,” the tester said. “Ah, another forager comes. Gotta run!” She said this, skittering over to another leggy forager, repeating her tender caressing taste.
Through excited hums, the worker bee called my attention back, and she bounced and shook and danced right in front of me, her cheeks puffy as she swished the material inside her. A fellow worker hopped beside her, joining her in that jittering jig before placing her hands upon her shoulders and leaning in. The new worker tilted her head slightly and parted her lips, pressing them to the former worker’s mouth with a sigh.
The first worker took the lead, leaning in, holding the new girl’s back as she continued their dance in a dip. And soon enough, she pulled back, letting the nectar slide down into her partner’s mouth in an amber stream.
Once she was dry of the fluid, the first worker returned to the cell, slurping up the substance with the same enthusiasm as she had before. Her former kissing partner, meanwhile, had already turned to a new dance partner. They continued the chain, a calling dance followed by a connected tango, the locking of lips, and then the expulsion of liquid. Each time a new bee joined in, and each time, the liquid lost its liquidity and became a thick and delightful substance until finally, they reached the end of the chain.
The final bee ushered me toward her, where she squatted in front of an empty cell. Her cheeks were full, but her twitching feet and flicking antennae directed a worker to arrive and pop off the waxy seal.
She smiled brightly at me, leaned forward, and then opened her mouth.
The thick amber liquid oozed out of her mouth, dropping down in a golden flow that filled the bottommost layers of the container. The honey folded over itself as it piled into the perfect consistency, and I watched in that wonder.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Oh, I only had it processed into candied form.”
“Yeah, you can do much with the stuff,” the worker agreed. “Never had it other than raw. It’s perfect the way it is.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
The worker skittered up to me, opening her mouth, a finger helping to widen the aperture.
“She’s offering you a taste,” another worker said after having just deposited her honey into the next worker in the line.
“Well, who am I to decline my host?”
I wasn’t going to presume an intimacy between myself and any of these bees. So, when I approached her, it was tentative and as respectful as I could muster. The adventure we had been on had used much of my energy, and I was pretty peckish. I wouldn’t let my base desires get in the way as I reached a hand out toward the bee and stuck a finger into her mouth.
She hummed with a questioning lilt, but my appendage stretched and probed, pulling at her cheeks, rubbing along her teeth, picking up all the different features within her, rubbing over every surface.
I couldn’t control myself.
I grabbed her by her back and held her tight as my arm poured into her. My core thrummed with intensity as I took that dense leftover fluid from her and plundered the enzymes she produced that transformed the nectar.
Her wings twitched, and her eyes twinkled, but there was no real protest. The other bees went about their day, another worker taking her place, even as my arm pumped into her throat, in and out, in and out, thrusting and delving deeper, the fuzz shaking with the intensity of her movements.
She reached up for me but didn’t fight against my advancement. She just held onto me, her squeaking hums higher and higher, but as she clung on, I stopped, whipping my arm back out from her.
She collapsed, her wings twitching, her breath quick.
I slunk away from them, and I apologized so many times I cannot be sure how much. I was fascinated and repulsed by two things, even with my repentant nature. First, I could not control myself. Despite my learnedness and attempts at sounding academic, I could not hide my hunger. Secondly, I knew the bee had no sense of self-preservation even as I choked her with my slime tendril. Her thoughts as a conscious song were that she was happy. Any preservation instinct was reserved for the colony; like the others, she was not herself but a part of this greater whole.
And if my posturing about being a cell has any merit, what does it mean for me that I am part of a greater whole? Do I matter in the conglomeration that I might be a part of? Am I cared for by God?

Cynwrig
 There’s a hierarchy of things in the Insect Kingdoms, and everyone follows their program: if someone steps out of line, you handle it yourself with your own four hands.
I was just into adulthood. All the other beetles would pick on me for my size. It was just the culture of the time. Everyone loved the largest, the shiniest, and those who could lift the most detritus. It was a simple life, and I enjoyed it for what it was.
But that all changed when the bees attacked. They were bullies, and the worst of their kind was their queen, bossing me around and making me feel so small. I had never felt as powerless as when she would look down upon me and say “Oh bee, oh by, what a cute little bug you are.”
From the moment we stepped through Tik Tik’s portal and into the Floral Forest, I had my guard up for the bees’ pushy tactics. But even a singular soldier gave me trouble, and I couldn’t protect Tik Tik. It was then that I felt just as useless as I had back in my home tree.
I became nothing but an annoying buzz in the back of her ear. Even when I tried to save Baker from being ripped to shreds, I couldn’t hold myself back from throwing up! I know he’s made of foodstuff, and I know he likes to be eaten, but that didn’t really matter!
I’m weak.
I’m useless.
Do you really want to know what happened to me when we split up? It isn’t going to matter, but okay, only because Tik Tik asked.
I passed out, that much I remembered, and when I came to, I found myself stuffed in one of those tiny little cells. It was cramped and it was terrifying, and I wriggled and flailed until I finally popped out, covered in some sticky white substance that tasted like burning.
When I began to crawl out, a couple bees surrounded me and poured honey over my face. I scrambled out of the cell, pushing the two aside and stumbling away, feeling woozy and collapsing.
I couldn’t accept help from them, even though I knew we were coming to make a deal. If I had shown weakness, I would have given the whole colony an advantage over Tik Tik and the rest of you.
So, I pushed myself up, and I scrambled to my feet. Even then, the bees surrounded me, offering me honey in large globs. I pushed them all away, knowing how much of a sweet, sweet trap it would be to even consider the nutritious gift.
I ran away through the tight corridors, my footfalls uncertain and my energy low. I passed by so many bees. Hundred and hundreds of bees. Each of them stopping to look at me, and each of them reaching out at me, just like they did all those years ago. Just like they held me down as the queen loomed over me, teasing me, laughing at me, and calling me a cute little short baby man.
Ah, you’re going to cut all the asides, right? Yes, I should get back to what I was saying:
My mind was racing with uncomfortable thoughts I shall not describe here. I turned through many corridors to get away, only to slam right into the largest, fuzziest body I felt in that labyrinth of nightmares.
He was big and bulky. Nothing like the sleek and slender body of the queen, and certainly shorter than her; he was still a hulk compared to the pampering workers rubbing and licking over his body. His even larger eyes looked down upon me, and he frowned.
I froze there on the ground. Here was the first male bee I had ever seen. This one was huge and bulky, nothing like me, and he had all the workers all over him. I was beginning to wonder if there were any male bees, but all questions to that effect melted when he spoke.
“Yo bro, you okay?” he asked, holding out one hand.
I hopped up, clutching my fists, my wings buzzing. I offered a challenge in return for his taunt, and he just shrugged, holding his hand out to the side.
A worker placed a glob of sweet honey on his hand, and he drank up the drop right there, sighing and smacking his lips. “Dude, you need to chill out. Seriously, stop and have some honey.”
“Why does everyone want me to have honey!” I snapped.
Another of the males approached me from behind, squatting down so we were at eye level and holding out his own glob. “It’s the best energy source a drone can have, bro! You’re really low energy after you upchucked all over the atrium.”
“I’m not your bro, buddy!” I scoffed.
“Yeah, guess not, a third drone said, poking his head out of a ceiling cell. “We’re all bros here because we're in the same colony.”
“True, true!” said the first drone. “And we know we always gotta keep our energy up 'cause the flight’s coming soon.”
“The… flight?”
“Nuptials, bro!” says a fourth, hopping down from his cell. He performed squats while a worker handed him small blobs, which he juggled into his mouth. “Gotta work the cardio and the endurance.”
“And that is because…?”
A fifth drone stepped beside me, and when I turned to face him, I nearly walked right into his dick!
“Oh, dude, sorry, bro. Just check out the merch.” He said.
“Lookin’ good, bro!” said the second drone.
“Check mine out,” said the fourth.
Before I knew it, they were all flopping out their giant schlongs right in front of my face.
“Got the claspers nice and ready, bro.”
“Looking forward to the nuptial, bro!”
“Hey, little bro, how about you?” the third asked. “You lookin’ forward to gettin’ it on with a virgin queen, or whatcha outside guys into?”
And to tell you the truth, Eshere. No guy has been so casual or eager to ask me such a question.

I was taken aback by the brazenness of these drones. There they were, in the middle of this castle of constant work. They all were relaxing, improving themselves, enjoying food, and comparing dick sizes. And there I was, thinking I knew everything about bees.
“A virgin queen, you say?” I asked. I had to admit that the idea was quite interesting.
“Yeah, bro,” said a drone. “We’re about to head out towards the Great Tree colony together. That colony’s been giving mad signals lately that they’re ready to go.”
I grabbed the first drone by the shoulders, shaking him, not carrying that his dick was rubbing up on me. Real men don’t worry about that. What’s the matter if dicks rub between bros? “You sure there’s a virgin queen at the Great Tree, bro?”
His antennae popped up at my enthusiasm. “Bro, You coming with? Those queens are freaky during the nuptial, and they might even be down for some interspecies. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, bro.”
I had been harboring disdain for these bees, Eshere, put off by their solidarity of mind and believing that every bee was part of one great colonial system working towards some machine-like goal. But, no matter my thoughts or feelings towards these or any other bee, I knew I couldn’t squander this opportunity because the Great Tree Colony is the colony that used to be my larval home.
I followed the drones as they marched toward the hive's entrance, waving toward their worker sisters, stretching and flapping their wings in anticipation.
Many more drones came out of the cells and followed us as we walked out of the entrance and spread our wings, buzzing along and casting a shadow together. All the while, though, I kept my eye on them. They were taking me far from Tik Tik, but they offered me something I had not thought I could have in my entire life. That thing, of course, was catharsis.
We passed over the Floral Forest and soon made it toward Towering Trees. I recognized them as part of the horizon of my youthful home, but we were not near the Great Tree. Instead, more drones buzzed around us, nodding and greeting their fellow drones in what I assume is the traditional greeting practice.
“Yooo, Mountain Fortress! Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you dudes were getting too old!” said one boisterous bee.
“Fat chance, Farm Hive!” our crew leader shouted. “The girls back home are actually about to swarm soon.”
“That’s gonna be some sweet queen pussy soon, dude!” Farm Hive’s leader says. “Can’t wait for that new queen to emerge. You know Seaside Shack is rarin’ to pump Great Tree, right?”
I flew up between the two of them and said. “So, you’re saying that we’re meeting a virgin queen and all, but there is one thing I want to know: What happened to the old one?”
They both looked at me and shrugged.
“Dunno, bro,” said our drone leader. “But after today, this one will have enough sperm to pop out tons of new workers. And when she’s feeling horny again, she’ll pop out a bunch of drones.” He says this, patting his chest with his masculine pride, “no matter if she’s got the juice left in her or not.”
“Wait, are you saying the queen births you drones without a father? You guys are seriously just the queen’s sex drive?”
“Hell yeah, brother! More like for the colony. We live, breathe and eat to do this thing.”
“Well, then,” says Farm Hive, extending a hand. “May the best drones plow her hard and fill her up!”
There was much boasting and buzzing around, and the drones everywhere were so loud. How could this small group of buzzing bros be so loud when the entire colony worked quietly? How could the loud noise be so much more interesting than the monotony of the girls in the colony?
How could I wish for a life where all I was born to do was have sex? I’m a hero!
The party was so loud that it took me a few times to hear something. It was the sound of a drone out on the edge of our cloud calling to the others. “Dudes! She’s here!”
I flitted past the buzzing dudes who hyped themselves with dicks out and chanting. I made it to the front, fluttering closer to the upcoming swarm, where workers armed with wax spears watched me as a slender, tall figure flew between them.
The virgin queen held up her hand, and the others stopped. She flitted up to me, a smirk on her face. “Oh bee, oh by…” she said, chuckling closer to me. “You’re one of those little beetle boys mother told me all about.
“I’m not just a beetle boy,” I said, clenching my fist. “I’m the beetle boy your mother tormented when your colony first moved to my home.”
“Oh bee, oh by…” she said again, leaning back in her flight, crossing one leg over the other. She stroked her fingers over her mouth, tilting her head. “And what are you doing here on my nuptial flight? Are you attempting to get back at mother through me? You’re surrounded by all these strapping young drones ready to pump me through with semen and my sisters, ready to die for my impregnation. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish, little boy!”
“I am not a boy!” I shouted, my voice echoing, lowering the volume of the constant droning as everyone hovered in place, watching me.
“I am a beetle man and a gentlebug.”
I can’t tell you anymore, Eshere. I really can’t. I’m sorry, but I’m sure Tik Tik will understand if I end the story here. You can fill in the blanks, I’m sure.
—Eshere’s note. I can indeed fill in the blanks, but I’m sure you want a full report on things. Allow me some time to milk the information out of Cynwrig, and I can recount everything with perfect accuracy.

Tik Tik
 I stood beside the magnificent Katadanyatarinya upon a balcony once part of the structure where the bees had built their colony. This balcony overlooked a series of cells in a sprawling cavern untouched by the massive and unending construction project. When I glanced at my dragon companion, I saw a mighty leader whose eyes could catch anything, even in the most piercing darkness.
She had taken on a bipedal form after having impressed me with the grandeur of her full draconic glory. Though she still towered over me and most of the bees, she was sized just right for the queen to look only slightly up at her. I took it as a measured tactic. She wanted the queen to respect her but still know that she was above the order of the bees here.
“They have the discipline to rival that of any army,” said the dragon. “And they do their work with the dedication any leader would hope to accomplish without being ordered to do so.”
“The Dragon’s Heir Tribe would have loved to have workers as dedicated,” I answered, slipping my legs over the side of the balcony and grasping the rails, kicking my feet as I watched the procession of work.
“Perhaps they would, but that time is over. You’ve seen to that, little one. Of all the lives touched by a dragon's will, yours is perhaps the most disruptive.”
I gripped onto the poles, contemplating the drop so far below and into the waxy structures of the bees. Workers were busy building up a lumpy cell much larger than the ones around it. They stole furtive glances at one another.
“I know you know of the history of your people,” Katadanyatrinya says, placing her hands on either side of the railing above me. “You have published a good deal of your knowledge thus far in various volumes, and you know of the one known as Straiesha. And you know of your parentage.”
I scratched the stone columns, pushing my butt forward, teetering on the edge of that precipice. “I don’t know many things and want to find out everything.”
“Everything is dangerous, little kobold,” says Katadanyatrinya. Fortunately, I’ve met you here and now because I can help guide you as the Dragon’s Council wishes it to be.”
That was what I was dreading this whole time. I couldn’t be anything more than a pawn to a dragon. It is a fear that I’ve harbored for some time. Perhaps in writing it now, I can allow the thought to seep into the mind of those who need to hear it. But at that moment, I was stuck and forced to listen to the words, no, the commands of the draconic knight.
I let my hands slip, and my body fell from the balcony.
A moment later, massive hands clapped together, squeezing me between strong palms. Katyadanyatrinya lifted me and brought me face-to-face with her. “Are you well, little one?” She asked. “Need you some rest or energy?”
“We can help you!” a worker who flew in with another worker buzzed.
“Please, sit down!” said the second worker, who took from her companion globs of wax and molded them into blobby chairs for us to sit upon. As they worked on Katyadanyatrinya’s, the dragon shook her head and said. “It’s alright, and make it the same size.
The dragon placed me upon one seat, and then with the mighty and effortless magic that only a dragon can possess, she shrank her form down further, her magnificent scales smoothing out, her horns becoming straighter and lighter, her imposing visage becoming sleek and, dare I say, beautiful.
I am a strange kobold. I can admit that. I’ve met many kobolds in my life, both inside my tribe and from all sorts of kinds without. I had never beheld one who held as much dignity and beauty as the tall and thin kobold woman before me, sitting opposite me with the poise of a lady and smiling toward me as a companion and not as a superior.
Despite the heart beating in my chest, I knew this was just a facade that only heightened my longing and stirred my emotions.
“You’re staring, Tik Tik,” Katyadarnyatrinya says, a soft giggle rising from her mouth. “Does this form bother you?”
I took a deep breath, gripping the wax table the bees had just finished. It was still warm. “No,” I lied, offering her an awkward and toothy grin. “Just surprised you’d stoop to a kobold’s level.”
“Everyone has their place in things in the hierarchy of life,” the dragon said, hands resting upon her lap. She nods when a bee approaches her with a cup. 
The bee dripped a white substance from her head and into the vessel.
“Dragons naturally fit in a place where they can choose the place they sit upon. Obviously, this means they often choose to be at the very top. Sometimes, it’s good to move toward the bottom.”
The bee pours from the cup the substance into two other cups. To Katadanyatrinya, she hands one, and to me, she gives another.
I swipe the cup and say, “So, does that make you a switch?”
I quickly gulped down the drink. It was a bitter, acidic thing, and I clutched my chest as the slimy substance slid down my throat.
“So, this is the famous flirtation of Tik Tik. And here I thought you were too intimidated by me to attempt your natural and casual style.”
I placed the emptied cup down on the table, my hands shaking. “And would you believe it if I said I am intimidated by you?”
She snorted. “I am no fool, Tik Tik. You sought to escape me by throwing yourself from the balcony. No doubt to flee with a flying spell or your teleportation device.” She sipped her drink, closed her eyes, and shook her head involuntarily before placing the cup on its saucer. Smacking her lips and with teary eyes, she said. “I came here to protect the bees, not to control you, but to warn you.”

I must admit that those words worried me considerably. I placed my drink down in front of me, looked the dragon squarely in the eyes for as long as I could, and asked, “And what is it that you want to warn me about, oh great dragon?”
Katadanyatarina scooted closer to me and leaned in, resting her chin upon her laced fingers. “It is quite difficult to avoid my inclination to see you as something as simple as a little kobold, even when I am at this level with you. Tell me, Tik Tik: Just how many years have you?”
The sudden shift left me a bit ill at ease, but I tapped the table and responded with the truthfulness she was owed. “I’m not entirely sure. Time is measured differently in different places, and I often lose track. If I had to make an estimation, it would probably say I should be five and twenty years at this point. Luckily, being nestmates with the Queen has its advantages. ”
“Timekeeping being the chief among them?” the dragon laughed. “You’ve lived a well-storied life, indeed, Tik Tik, with tales that have caused trouble for many people. The more you probe the world’s workings, the more enemies you make. That is what happens when you take forbidden knowledge.”
With such a talking down to me, I stood up, letting my cloak cover myself and the movements of my hands. “I’ll do what I desire when I desire it, great dragon. I grow tired of worrying about how small and weak I am and the repercussions of my actions. I shall deal with them when they come. Are you perhaps one such consequence, Katadanyatarina?”
“No,” the dragon admitted, “But just because you do not wish to be told about them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I don’t fault you for what’s happened. My fellow dragon council members can see chains of events that span generations. Many also see the fault of things lying in ones who stumble about and cause things to happen. I predict and respond to troublesome situations.”
I slipped back to my seat, suddenly feeling silly for my grandiose display in front of the being before me, so calm and collected and oh-so-cool! Though my drink was empty, I played with the cup as I mulled over her words.
“You are familiar with Estrasa, the Dark Mistress of Transformation.” She finally continued. I wondered if she was ready to speak her once so-pressing words. A warmth had built up within me, thinking about how much she spent talking about me instead of the message she claimed was so important.
It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t have to be. Of course, a dragon would know all about my campaign to rally my friends to perform a dungeon-delving expedition into that tower and remove her from power. It is not a story I had ever fully written, as many things were not worth repeating or other things that shouldn’t ever be remembered.
“You served the world by taking that petulant child off the throne,” she continued.
“I didn’t do it for altruistic reasons,” I responded. “I only wished to rescue my friends from her clutches and to get her off my back. She had been launching campaigns against me.”
Katadanyatarina shrugged and leaned back, “And you know of Timothy?”
Of course, I had to tell her that I did. Timothy’s lending of Maram allowed me control of the lust spirit. With Maram’s power, I could get my teleportation system up and running.
“The vacuum created by their absences has led the other magi to act. There shall be many vying for the title of the dark master of transformation and the Great Enchanter.”
 “It almost seems like you’re telling me I could be in the running to take the positions,” I mused. “My transformation skills can be improved, certainly, and I find myself quite charming.”
“I would certainly rather have a friendly face in a position of power than someone who would attempt global domination out of childish impotence. Besides, I’ve heard rumors of your attempt to make yourself more dragon-like in the past. I am curious how close you can get. The results are interesting whenever people attempt such a foolhardy endeavor.”
The friendliness of the dragon just radiated off of her. I had to be careful because I could sense her subtle attitude, putting down others just out of a non-smug sense of superiority. That is just how they are, after all. But I wondered then if I could change things.
Sipping the last dregs of my drink, I placed it down and licked my lips. “I thank you, oh great dragon, for your warnings and pointing me, but I’m not a kobold you can direct to do your bidding through your subtle manipulations. I’ll do what I wish when I wish, just as I always have. If you see my transformation magic or my enchantments at work, it will be because I wish to use them, not because you request.”
I stood from the table. “Please excuse me; I have a business transaction to conclude.” I bowed and walked past, only for a hand to grab hold of my cloak.
“If it’s all the same to you,” she said, standing up and looking down at me. Even in kobold form, she was taller. “I think I’d like to talk more with you and get to know you better.”
I froze. Part of me screamed to obey her simply because of what she was, and another aspect of me pulled me away to restore my dignity. Still, a third part told me to listen just because of how confident and collected she was in front of me.
I stepped back from her, covering myself in my cloak. “I can see if I can fill it into my schedule. It would be nice to speak on a more… intimate level.”
“That’s what I was expecting from Tik Tik,” she said, and with that, she spread her wings, transforming back into her dragon form, and flew off the balcony.

Tik Tik’s Final Report on the Bee Colony
I am excited to write this report about my newly acquired friends. The expedition to the Insect Kingdoms, as evidenced by the preceding pieces, has been a great success and can be measured in multiple ways.
Firstly, as a trial for my teleportation system. With someone familiar with the end destination, I should be able to appear in any place I desire with near-perfect accuracy. It should be most beneficial as I continue to network and grow in my research.
Secondly, my outreach to new friends in the form of bees has been a resounding success. The colony was eager to share its secrets with my companions and me. We are beginning to bring a new cultural exchange to Anteronia (Side Note: I look forward to my planned return trip once the new queen has matured and the current queen is ready to travel to the new home we’re so graciously providing for them).
Thirdly, business negotiations are a success! Even as I write these notes, the workers are stacking up honey cells for delivery to Baker’s. My connections with the Great Caravan provide us with labor on the opposite side of my portal, ready to transport the giant globs of delicious sweetness across the Great Desert and into kingdoms far and wide. Baker is enthralled with the opportunity to diversify his offerings at his bakery and cafe, and I am pocketing quite the profits.
My friends have all experienced various accomplishments and learned new things about themselves. Aside from Baker’s booming business, Eshere is developing much more as a person than I would have ever considered for a slime. She’s having her first existential crisis; how remarkable.
And Cynwrig? Well, I am quite intrigued to learn about his experience with the nuptial flight, but I plan on returning to learn about those first hand from the new queen on my next expedition to the Mountain Fortress Colony. There are many mysteries there, both historical and sexy!
And speaking of those future expeditions: My conversation with Katadanyatarina has left me realizing the weight of wizarding. With this magical power and knowledge comes an opportunity and a responsibility to use it. One has to do an exchange when utilizing magic: Proper motions and negotiations of the tongue, an equivalent exchange of materials to conjure or transfer raw data, and the consequences of rampant magical expulsion upon the environment.
It is prudent to spend more time studying, whether focused or in bursts of fancy. The time between this first expedition and the new queen's emergence will be crucial. I must learn what I can about the world’s most powerful casters. I must master my magical skills and continue to learn about the various beautiful creatures around me.
I am no longer that curious little kobold that scampered out of her home caverns and into a world alien and mysterious—I am a wizard of renown whose notoriety and success have gone far beyond those of my peers to the point I have switched to a different set of peers and find myself wanting.
The more I learn, the more I realize there is far more to know. With what I learned in this expedition, learning for its own sake is invaluable, but preparing for potential trouble is prudent and necessary.
This has been Tik Tik, reporting my findings and looking forward to the next one. Enjoy and stay sexy, dear readers!
--
Letter from Tesarasa to Vaspaja, delivered via a conjured courier
My dear associate,
How goes it in that bug-infested backwater you call home? I hope your putrid means of doing magic is serving you well. How you can stomach such horrors is beyond me. Anyway, I’m doing fine, though I’m sure you wouldn’t be asking that. I’ve got my own kingdom now—one that I’m puppeteering behind a cutie of a princess. Those royals are real freaks when it comes to finding novelty in their lives. You don’t need to exert any outside control of them beyond what they ask for. Soon, I’ll even have its greatest heroes working for me.
Oh yes, and a few others got together to discuss a few things, including that little pink problem running around. Did you know that I had a run-in with her? She’s quite a handful, but I let her go because defeating her wasn’t worth my time. But, you should probably be on the lookout for her, because she’s liable to pop up anywhere one of us is doing something. Curiosity seems to come with that kobold.
She’s going to be in your neck of the woods soon, and I know you’re planning on making a power play, so you will probably want to set all of that up before she gets there. Neophyte wizards with an inordinate amount of power in their arsenal tend to be quite a nuisance. You just can’t figure out what they’re up to, you know?
Anyway, I hope you’ve got ideas for replacements for our missing companions. Old man Timmy and that brat Essie were seriously cramping our style. Don’t apprentice anyone creepy or crawly; I can only stand one of you in our Order.
Much loves
Tesarasa
--
Letter from Vaspaja to Tesarasa, delivered via an undead conjured courier.
Sup, bitch?
Thanks for the practice dummy. He didn’t last very long. Don’t worry. I’m sending him back to you with a little care package stuffed inside him.
Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself. My family has everything under total control. You just go play dolly with your princess. My sights are set squarely on a queen.
And if a tiny dragon person wants to be a part of our little club, then I’ll be sure to inject her with my own brand of club membership.
Cut your bullshit
Vaspaja.
P.S. send me a real man next time, not some ephemeral wisp of protomatter. I know you can do better than that, oh Contessa of Conjuration.