Blaine often thought to himself: if there ever was a truly perfect society, it had to be the honeybees.
From the moment they were born, honeybees faithfully performed the tasks assigned to their caste. Born a Worker Bee, Blaine had never once wasted a single day. He’d wake up, clean himself, pay his respects to the Queen, then rush to eat a quick breakfast before heading out to collect nectar. Even after work, he didn’t head straight to bed—instead, he repaired and cleaned the Hive. On the single day off they were allowed each week, he tended to the Queen and the larvae with utmost devotion and managed the stored honey. He also took turns standing guard, never slacking in his duty to keep out intruders. It was a fulfilling life where not even a second was squandered.
Naturally, Blaine held contempt for the lazy. Not that there were any such people around him. Everyone poured their heart and soul into their assigned duties. Whether it was the Queen Bee or the Drones born solely for the nuptial flight—everyone had a role to play. Those who didn’t fulfill their purpose were cast out. As it should be. Any component that failed to function or caused disruption to the whole needed to be culled. That was just how things worked.
Everything ran like clockwork.
When his old friend Bertie heard all this, he jumped in with a laugh, “That’s some dystopian crap. Big Brother much? That’s terrifying—I’d piss myself.”
Dystopia? He probably meant Utopia. Blaine had half a mind to rip off those butterfly wings Bertie always cherished like his life depended on them, but after giving it some thought, decided that was too far. He just tied Bertie’s antennae into a neat little ribbon instead.
Anyway, that’s why Blaine had to stick to his duties. A Worker Bee had to work. Otherwise, he’d be weeded out by the perfect order of nature.
Spring was nearing its end, and the flower fields near the Hive were nearly drained of nectar. Blaine had no choice but to travel farther—past the mountains and across the river—to a more distant field that hadn’t been touched yet. He needed to finish collecting before nightfall. Otherwise, the trip home would be a nightmare.
“Oh.”
After wandering for some time, he found a good patch. Lush, thick blossoms bloomed in abundance. It was tempting to dive in immediately, but Blaine kept calm and inspected the flowers. Ones this beautiful always warranted suspicion. At best, they might be empty and leave him with nothing. At worst, they could be terrifying, carnivorous blooms that lured in insects only to devour them.
“Aaaaaaagh!”
Just as he was about to reach for a petal, a scream erupted beside him, making him jump a foot into the air. Mouth agape, Blaine whipped his head toward the sound and saw a young boy crumpled on the ground, trembling.
Delicate, vibrating wings fluttered on his back, along with a pair of round, cute antennae on his head—and something like a stinger poked out between his hips. A fellow bee.
“H-He’s… a wasp! We’re in trouble!”
“W-What?!”
“Everyone, battle stations! Defensive formation!”
Blaine sighed and slowly raised both hands. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Instead of responding with hostility, he worked to keep his tone calm and reassuring.
“I’m a honeybee. Just like you.”
“…What?”
“No way. You’re saying you’re a honeybee?”
The bees—antennae twitching and stingers raised—stared at him in shock.
Blaine wasn’t in humanized form. His tight black work suit clung to his massive frame like it was about to burst. And this was even with the largest possible size—3XL by bee standards.
His long, firm neck flowed into broad, perfectly square shoulders, with thick, muscular arms. His abs were sharply defined, with deep grooves between each muscle. The fabric around his thighs was stretched to its absolute limit, pitifully strained.
But above all else, what drew the most attention was his chest. Blaine still remembered the time he’d been unlucky enough to get caught by a mantis in humanoid form. The mantis, nearly blind, had seen Blaine’s massive pecs, assumed he was one of its own, and awkwardly backed away before fleeing altogether.
Blaine had considered—just briefly—that maybe this too-tight suit made him look bigger than he really was. It was a reasonable thought. But what could he do? As a Worker Bee, wearing his uniform and heading out to collect nectar was as natural as breathing. So instead, he tried not to think about it.
But times like this always brought the issue back.
Blaine let out a sigh and fiddled awkwardly with the front of his suit, where his chest threatened to spill out.
“Shut your filthy mouth! You won’t fool us!”
“What are you after?! Our hard-earned honey? The larvae?! We’ll never hand over our Queen!”
“Hey, can we just talk for a second—”
“Honeybees, advance! For our beloved brethren, for the future of our children—we fear no death!”
“Don’t flinch! Our sacrifice will ensure the survival of our kin!”
They locked eyes, faces streaked with hot tears, expressions filled with determined resolve. Blaine found himself speechless. Honestly, he was even a little moved.
The bees raised their stingers toward the sky, bursting into solemn song:
“Ohhh honeybees, advance, honeybees! Raise your victorious stingers high and spread your wings toward freedom! Glory to our Queen!”
One of the bees spotted Blaine unconsciously singing along and froze in shock.
“W-Wait a minute… You know our anthem?”
“H-How… How do you know that?!”
“I told you already… I’m a honeybee too.”
Blaine began explaining more in detail—about how his Hive was just past the Akansia River in the Frizian flower field nearby. The bees, stingers still raised, glanced at each other, then gradually lowered their weapons.
“Give me a little time and I’ll shift into humanoid form to prove it.”
“You—you’re not gonna try anything funny, are you?!”
“No tricks. Promise.”
Blaine braced himself against the sharp stares prickling against his skin. Partial transformation was a delicate, exhausting task. The power had to be finely controlled—no, not that side, this side—just enough, not too little…
Poof!
A pair of fuzzy, round antennae popped up on top of Blaine’s tawny-blond head.
Whoops. A little too much. His wings came out too.
A dull ache bloomed across his back as the thin, membranous wings trembled and spread behind him. On his enormous body, the tiny wings of a honeybee looked even smaller by contrast.
“Whoa… He really is a honeybee?”
The others began whispering. Blaine sighed quietly. If only they’d believed him a little sooner—now his suit had a tear in it. Just a small hole, but it was already too tight. If it started stretching more, it might tear open with a pop.
Screw it. He’d just collect a little honey and head back, even if he got chewed out by his supervisor later.
“Hey…”
The oldest-looking Worker Bee stepped forward from the hesitant crowd, inching toward Blaine with a sheepish look on his face.
“I’m… sorry. We shouldn’t have judged a creature by its appearance.”
“No… I get it. Defending against wasps is a serious matter. And to be fair, I did wander into your territory without permission.”
Blaine’s calm, rational words seemed to finally put the others at ease. Their stingers retracted fully, and they began exchanging glances in noisy chatter, looking a little embarrassed.
Soon, one by one, they stepped forward.
“Sorry—we… we misunderstood.”
“You just looked so much like the wasps in the reports! Reality’s so different from what we learn in books… It made me reflect.”
“Me too… I actually saw a wasp once—from really far away—and you looked exactly the same. I was sure you were one! But thinking back, it was super far and I was running for my life, so… I probably didn’t get a good look. I’m really sorry!”
“Ah, uh… it’s fine. Really…”
But somehow, the more apologies he heard, the heavier Blaine’s chest felt.
