Chapter 1

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Dapper-Bit Twist paused on the road that connected Dodge Junction to the far-off town of Ponyville, taking a moment to twist his head around and pull his canteen from his flank. The desert sun had yet to leave him be, despite the overhang of his wagon, and he groaned as he sucked down as much water as he dared. He knew that there was more in the wagon, and that - luck be with him - the stallion would reach one of the watering holes by nightfall, but he had learned at least some token cautions while traveling the roads. The lands had been pacified since the Changeling uprising, and the various conflicts with the other species out there had been basically brought to a lasting peace, but that didn't mean that everything was always going to go as one planned. Life had a way of throwing a wrench into any established order.

When his throat was no longer dust-dry, he put the canteen back and continued down the road, hooves tapping out a steady beat as he let his thoughts wander. The road was lifted out of the dusty ground of the desert, built that way intentionally to give travelers like him the chance to 'wake up' if they wandered off the road with a stumble and near-fall, so he was able to just let himself drift a bit.

He imagined what he would find when he got back to Ponyville. Last time he was there, he'd brought in a substantial amount of bits with his sales of exotic foods, fruits, and flowers, and he imagined that the same would happen this time. There were researchers - headed by the grown Twilight Sparkle - that were always eager for different, mysterious things from across the lands, and he knew for a fact that she'd be paying top-bit for some of the goods that he had this time. But he hoped that there would be others waiting.

Hope. Dapper-Bit chuckled, shaking his head. Hope was not a good thing for a merchant to hold onto. Sureties, agreements, contracts: those were the bread and butter of his type of pony.

Not that there were as many of those these days, the blue-black pony thought with a small sigh. The rise of 'friendship' and 'harmony' had been good for business, but nobody wanted to commit to anything anymore. It was always down to bit-deals, hoping that you would be able to make another one if you brought the right goods again. More people wanted to barter, less wanted to buy. It was always a risk traveling to get more to sell, because you could never be sure that there was a proper buyer waiting for you at the other end.

So far, Dapper-Bit Twist had done well enough at it to maintain certain standards, able to pay for vests and top hats that were properly suited for his name, but even he knew that fate could change on a dime. He could lose it all, and he just did his best not to think about what might happen if his customers - never truly bound to buy from him, no matter how regular and reliable his deliveries - decided that they were done with his luxuries.

In fact, he worked so hard at imagining other things, a different life - one of order and reliability, less of whim and chance and fancy - that he almost missed something shiny on the side of the road.

Dapper-Bit Twist stomped his front hooves as he came to a stop, half-sure that he'd imagined the shimmer off to his right in the heat waves that rolled off the sands and the dirt road, but no. He took a second look and saw it again, nestled in the crook of the rocks that marked the end of the deeper part of the desert. He cocked his head to the side before unhooking himself from the wagon and trotting over to the strange flora.

As he drew closer, he realized that it was like nothing that he'd ever seen before. It was at once flower-like, with petals and gentle leaves that puffed off a warm, comforting scent, and willow-like, with fronds and tendrils falling out from under the petals and draping the flower stem and roots in curtained shadow. Every part of it had a strange glitter to it, though, as if it was - despite being so dry - reflecting the light like a pool of water.

He had never seen anything like it before, and he would wager good bits that nobody in Ponyville had, either. It wasn't particularly small, but as far as he could tell, the plant was still of a size to be re-planted and carried away. And the scent was quite pleasant, both soothing and calming. He found himself with a smile as he turned around -

"Hmm?"

Dapper-Bit looked over his shoulder, cocking one eyebrow up as he felt something against his back-left hoof as he turned. The plant's tendrils hanging down from the petals had brushed the back of his leg, somehow, but as he looked, there was no way for the plant to have come anywhere close. It was strange. Very strange.

Shaking his head, he went back to the wagon. It didn't take long to find an appropriately-sized pot - after all, part of his stock was flowers and plants from foreign areas, and he needed a way to transport them - and a shovel. He hummed under his breath as he returned, carefully digging a hole around the plant before delicately pulling it up with his teeth. There was a strange taste to the stalk, and for a moment, he was worried that he'd bruised it as he lifted it up and out, but after putting it in the pot, he didn't see any break-points in the plant's surface.

Taking another sip from his canteen to wash the fluid away, he took a moment to admire the plant again. Now that it was in the pot, he had a chance to see it from a better angle, yet it still looked no more familiar than it had in the ground.

It stood a good two feet in height, nearly the size of a bush, but rather than the trunk of a young sapling or the central core of a bush, it reminded him more of a sunflower, pushing up tall and strong in defiance of all plant logic. The tendrils hanging down gave it an illusion of greater girth, but the various fronds looked like the beads of curtain more than anything else, something that made it decorative and rather lovely. It must have been a development of the plant to avoid being scorched in the desert heat, he decided, something to shade the stalk from being burnt during the day.

Fascinating, and beautiful: it would fetch a high price from somebody or other, he was sure.

Dapper-Bit carried it back to the wagon, sliding it into the rear of the cargo container and strapping it down. As he did, the plant rolled more than he expected, almost like it was threatening to come loose from the pot if he wasn't careful, and he made a mental note to take the turns on the road as gently as possible.

The stallion gave the plant one more sniff, and he held onto the strange mood that the calming scent brought him. It made him feel...better. That fantasy of a world of order, of a realm that had contracts and agreements again rather than the constant changing minds and shifting moods, felt possible for a moment.

He chuckled as he pulled his head back.

"Just a dream...but a good dream."

Shutting the back of the wagon, he walked back to the front and strapped himself in. Time to keep moving; Ponyville was several days off, after all, and he wanted to make good time. His canteen was already getting a little low, and he didn't want to tap his supplies if he didn't have to. Best to keep moving and make better time.

Dapper-Bit reached the spring just before sundown, though he was the only traveler staying there tonight. It was to his preference; without any real goods beyond his luxuries in the back of the cart, there was no point in meeting other merchants. They didn't have anything that he could use, and he was full-up on goods that might make him a profit in the near-future. Besides, he preferred his own company.

As he anchored the wagon in place with a block on either side of each wheel, he went to the back and opened it. The plant was there, secure as he had hoped, though leaning slightly in his direction.

"Maybe I should let you get some fresh air..."

There was something oddly compelling about the plant as he pulled it from the back of the wagon. Just a quick breath of the soft scent coming from between the petals made him want more, and he went so far as to shove his muzzle into the petals and breathe in directly. The scent itself was like the incense that he got from some of the far-off cities, something almost intoxicating to breathe in, but that wasn't the true draw of the flower.

No, it was more that the scent...did something. It helped his mind stop rushing all around, and helped settle things down. It brought a sense of order, of stillness to his thoughts, and he appreciated that with the frantic state of life. He liked the way that it made him feel...still. Serene.

So, he carried the pot out of the wagon and down to the spring itself, carefully using his spade to pull some water free and give it to the plant. The earth it was potted in was thirsty, and it sucked up the moisture quickly as he gave it a few shovel-fulls of water. Soon, the earth was as sandy as it had been when first pulled loose, and he shook his head.

"Either you were parched when I found you, or you're just going to be sucking up water all the time."

The plant, of course, did not answer, and Dapper-Bit chuckled to himself.

"And here I am, talking to a plant. All the more reason to be thankful nobody's around to see me."

Shaking his head, he put the spade down and leaned over the water himself. He spread his hind legs slightly to make the descent easier, and then did the same with his front legs, only to a much greater degree. As he lowered his head to the water, he closed his eyes and savored the cooling touch of the spring to his parched muzzle. A few mouthfuls went down, then a few more -

"Mmph!"

He jerked his head back as he felt something again. Once more, it was almost like a tickle against his back legs, something rubbing against them, but this time slightly further up, almost past the mid-way joint. He looked over his shoulder at the flower, almost as if -

No, no, if it had touched him, it would have been the result of some wind or something along those lines. It couldn't move. Flowers couldn't do that...

But if this one could...

Dapper-Bit put it out of his mind. There was no way that he'd been lucky enough to find the only flower in the world capable of independent movement. That was just wishful thinking, and that sort of thing put merchants out of business.

Shaking his head, he went back to drinking. Once his thirst was quenched, he carried the pot back to the wagon, and began the process of setting up camp for himself. Lacking space within the wagon, he had to sleep under the stars, and that meant getting a lot of blankets ready, some firewood, and a lamp. It wouldn't take long, but best to do it while there was still light.

Dapper-Bit Twist dreamed, and he dreamed a familiar, comforting dream.

The earth stallion sat behind a stall, with his wagon on one side and a chest on the other. The latter was open and the former was parked, and rather than his wares laid out like the half-desperate merchant that he had become, he had packages waiting. Each one was marked with the name of a different pony, each one in a perfect row, waiting for its recipient to come and pick it up.

He smiled as each pony arrived, exactly correct in order of the packages arranged in the stall. The Mayor. The post-pony. The candy-maker. The cake-makers. The librarian. All of them coming, one by one, in the exact order that he had arranged the packages.

No surprises.

No unexpected arrivals.

No bargaining.

There were only contracts, pre-assigned roles, and a schedule that everyone had to keep. He never had to worry about whether he would have what he needed. He would always have what he required, and sufficient unto the day to remain where he was without ever being made less.

The ponies arrived, one by one, and he passed their packages to them in turn. A simple word, a call and respond, always giving him that little boost of having done well. Dapper-Bit smiled at all of them, though the smile always felt a bit robotic to him, a little bit required rather than genuine, and they did the same. It didn't matter; it was part of the process.

Eventually, he ran out, and the ponies stopped coming. He could have left, but that felt wrong, off, like he was breaking some unwritten rule in the dream. He should stay. He should stay and watch, be part of the market, even if he had nothing more to sell.

And so, he did. He stayed, and he watched, and he saw that the others were doing the same thing. Mr. and Mrs. Cake brought their wares down, but rather than displaying them, they were arranged in little boxes, just like his, all pre-ordered and waiting to be picked up.

Derpy was there, her eyes glazed as ever, but rather than delivering her packages, she was accepting them, taking them one at a time from a completely still line that moved forward in perfect unison whenever the pony at the front had finished. There was no loss of time, no wasted moments, just perfect precision.

Dapper-Bit loved every moment of it, and his cheeks turned up into a real smile, one that appreciated the impossible order. There was some part of him that knew that this was a dream, that it had to be a dream, for the impossible movements that everyone made were only possible if they all knew exactly how the others would shift. One couldn't react at that speed without knowing what someone else was going to do in advance. No schedule was this perfect, no line this organized, no list so complete that had been made with a normal mind.

And that made it a dream.

A good dream.

A dream that he would never see.

His smile faded ever so slightly, and he started to sigh -

Then something else tickled his fancy. He felt something that he almost never felt in a dream. There was something pleasurable rubbing between his hind legs, starting at his sac and slowly going higher. He felt it rubbing against his pucker, teasing it, licking, nudging against it.

Dapper-Bit looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to see some dream stallion or mare getting to work on his pucker. Instead, he saw...nothing.

Nothing but petals...

And tentacles...

Dapper-Bit gasped as he lifted his head from his improvised pillow, immediately aware of two things. The first was that his hips were up high, no longer pressed against the ground, and that was at least half because of his massive erection at the time. The second was that something was up his ass.

"Ah...ah..."

And yet...it didn't hurt, nor sting, or anything that might have made him panic and flee from the situation. Instead, he lifted his front up, looking back, feeling...

Feeling...

Disconnected, he supposed. There was no emotion as he looked back at the flower that he'd left near his sleeping area. It was closer than it had been, and some of its tendrils were up. Two were pressed against either side of his rim, holding it open, while the third was inside of him, wriggling, going deeper, going in and out. The little 'beads' that he'd noticed along the tentacle were rubbing against his inner walls, teasing them, pushing them further open for a moment before popping out again. The thrusting tendril was -

Spark.

There were little shocks, never more than a split-second in duration, and never painful, just surprising. They flicked against his prostate, then something deeper, higher. His tail started flicking with it, responding to the shocks by rising higher and higher. Dapper-Bit shook his head, trying to clear it, but the panic that he kept expecting to feel from the impossible situation never came to him. Instead, he felt...calm. At peace. Serene.

"Mmmph..."

Stand.

It was less word than concept, and it was in picture-form, rather than words, showing him a vague silhouette of a stallion on all fours rather than face-down, ass-up. It was tricky, his legs having a harder time responding for some reason, but he gradually leveraged himself to all fours. He stood staring straight ahead -

Flicker.

Spots went across his vision as those strange sparks from deep inside his ass spread up his spine. They went right across the bones to the back of his head, and he felt something different, almost like the 'click' that he got when he hooked himself up to the harness that pulled the wagon, except that this was living. This was like something had just 'clicked' with his mind, connecting itself with his brain.

Before he could think about it, a rippling sensation went down his spine, going from the top of his head down his back all the way to the base of his raised tail, coming to a stop right over the spot where the tentacle in his ass rested. He felt the shiver going right to the tendril, and it almost seemed to bloat as the sensation continued down the odd frond to the plant itself.

Another pulse.

Another.

And as he stared straight ahead, Dapper-Bit felt his thoughts passing out of him. The dream came first, popping through his skull as if he was reliving an incredibly vivid memory, followed by the journey of the day. Then, his fantasies, the wishes and wants, the desire for order and stability with other ponies. From there, his thoughts turned to his deals and his stay in Dodge Junction, of the winds and heat that burned through the city on a regular basis, of the preciousness of water, and at that, there was a slight pulse back, a tremor that went up his spine rather than down it, as if he was given an agreement on that sentiment.

The moment passed, and what he could only define as a download continued. A cold, emotionless download, as if the heart of him had been turned off, shunted off to the side to make room for all the information that was going through him. He couldn't feel, he realized. Not fear, not curiosity, not anything; whatever the plant was doing, it had connected to him in such a way that the emotional side of things might as well not have existed for this.

He stood there, the pleasure of the moment slowly growing. Even as he was made to relive the various memories that he had stored in the back of his skull in reverse order, the tremors running along his spine were matched with pulses that rubbed right over his prostate. Other things, other, smaller tendrils that flicked and flexed along the main tentacle, were constantly tickling and teasing his inner walls, driving his cock to harder and harder states.

He stared straight ahead, feeling his cock rising, then slapping against his stomach. Pleasure rose as data, going up his spine, getting processed as something enjoyable, and then going right back down as another tremor. The constant adjustment and shifts of things inside, the tendril moving and adjusting its length, the other little tentacles that were rubbing his rim just outside, were giving him such a...such a clinical treatment, but the treatment was effective nonetheless. He was getting turned on, wanting, wanton, and he shivered even as he tried and failed to buck his hips.

The plant kept pulling more memories forward, and time started to shift in his consciousness. The moon had been barely over the horizon when he first saw it, but when he next looked - long after the memories of Dodge Junction had finally come to an end - the moon was nearly halfway across the night sky. Time passed faster, and in odd chunks, and he didn't know what was happening when.

The moon was a third of the way down to the other horizon, past the midpoint, when the plant finally reached his memories of the sheer breadth of the world. It stopped there, the pulsing, rolling feeling down his back from skull to tendril coming to a stop. It pressed against him slightly, hesitantly, then seemed to resolve itself to something.

Thrust!

Three more tendrils were inside him, each smaller than a pony's shaft would be, but adding up to something akin in size. As they rested against his prostate, he felt stronger shocks, stronger bursts of pleasure and something else, something that buzzed rather than trembled up his spine.

Concepts started popping into his brain, images. There were never words, but they were translated to thought the more times that they popped in, gaining meaning through repetition.

Plant at front of wagon, the images were saying. Never in the back. Never far away.

Curiosity wasn't possible, but even if it was, it would have swiftly given way to the repetition of the order. Bit by bit, the image-command etched itself into his brain, becoming almost like a programmed routine that he would follow no less eagerly than the morning need to pee and relieve himself. Dapper-Bit nodded, and the images shifted.

Tail up...tail up...tail up...

He was given an image of himself, drawn from memories of the mirror. He was made to look at himself with his tail held high, his pucker on display, that donut of a hole pushed out so that all could see.

Tail up. Tail up. Tail up.

The command came faster and faster without any explanation. His tail rose further as the prickles went up his spine, burning the command into his skull no differently than the first one. Dapper-Bit could feel the urge becoming second-nature, not even something that he would think about, before he stopped thinking about it in the slightest. After all, why would a pony think twice about keeping their tail up? There was nothing to hide there.

Time had shifted, he realized belatedly. The moon was almost down, now, reaching the far end of the horizon. The purple light of daybreak was coming, and he was still standing there. A sliver of tiredness intruded on his mind, and the pulsing up from his rump and along his spine stopped, reversed, the concept of his exhaustion going down his spine and out of him.

A moment of stillness concluded with the sudden slurping sound of the tendrils pulling out of him. The stallion tumbled to his belly, and passed out, with no more than one word remaining in his darkening mind.

Forget...forget...forget...

Morning came, and he was completely exhausted, though he knew that he'd slept the whole night through. Dapper-Bit groaned as he put one hoof after another under him, shaking his head as he felt oddly sore. He must have slept wrong, the Earth pony decided, and he shook his head as he turned back to the plant.

He meant to put it back in its slot at the back of the wagon, but something felt wrong about that. It didn't take long for him to decide that there was a place near the front that he could keep it, and - after all - it would be easier to keep an eye on it and keep it from shifting if it was in sight. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that before.

As he rested the pot in place, however, Dapper-Bit realized that it was a bit heavier than it had been taking it out of the wagon the day before. He paused, looking the tall, shimmering flower over a few times. Had it grown overnight? Surely not, that would have been impossible without some sort of unicorn or alicorn magic, he would have imagined. Surely, it was just him being tired, and the pain of the lack of sleep reflected in sore muscles. Yes, yes, surely that was the problem.

As he lashed it in place, pulling the ropes tight with his teeth, he was aware of something else, a stiffness just at the base of his spine. Once the ropes were tight, he glanced back.

His tail was up. For a split-second, he was puzzled, but he shrugged it off. Of course it was up. It was right and proper for stallions to go around with their tails up; they were supposed to be showing off.

For who?

The question came from the back of his head, and he blinked as he realized that he didn't have an immediate answer. Eventually, however, he shrugged it off. There was a reason for it, surely, even if he couldn't think of it right now.

But why are you so stiff if you're -

Dapper-Bit cut the thought off before it could go any further. There was no reason to be thinking about it any further, and that was that. He had a long trip to make, after all, and he had best get started before he lost much more light. The next spring was, after all, some ways off, and he didn't want to be caught in the desert, even with a few extra supplies.

He backed himself up to the front of the wagon, clipping himself into place. The shade of the flower was actually rather pleasant to his lower half, and he smiled to himself as he got comfortable. He tested the weight of the wagon against his shoulders, listened for anything shifting or falling inside of the wheeled block of wood, and when he heard nothing concerning, began pushing forward.

He managed three steps before a tendril went right up his ass.

"Nngh."

Calm...calm...calm...

The word came with a pulse that went right up his spine, a pulse that felt half-remembered as he stared straight ahead. The brief panic that came at the shocking insertion disappeared as his mind and heart obeyed in tandem, pushing that feeling to the side as easily as someone simply crossing out an erroneous entry in an accounting book. There was no need to panic. He was calm.

He was serene.

He was fine.

Keep walking.

Again, it was less of a word and more of a sense of concepts. Motion, progress, forward, rather than the simple word. He lifted one hoof, feeling the motion as surprisingly mechanical and automated, and began the process of moving forward, pulling the wagon behind him. The pulsing, trembling feeling of something moving down his spine continued with each step, almost as if the process was something solid, and the plant was taking it from him, learning, feeding on the data that just walking around was giving him.

Relax.

Open.

Walk.

Relax.

Open.

Obey.

Obey Nest.

Nest. That was the first time that the concept popped in with something newer than the rest of the things going through his skull. It came with a feeling of cohesion, collection, similarity, and...order.

So much order.

So much arrangement.

So much exactness.

The Nest was there for those that would come to it, submit to it, give it information and drones to work with. They would be the Nest's extensions, and they would be given exactly what they needed, exactly as they required. There would be no lack of sureties, and...and...

The information was incomplete, the concept coming through without the same clarity as all the others. Dapper-Bit didn't care. There was something to that which had seized hold of him, and he was interested, perhaps in spite of himself. The tingling in the back of his head, the embedding of the other concepts, made it all the easier to just let it happen, his curiosity and the pleasure of being impaled by the tendril as he walked allowing him some sort of comfort that the standard journey never would have brought him.

Keep walking.

He did, and as he did, he could feel the plant slowly pulling more and more from him, taking information and processing it, storing it. It was so distant, though, that he didn't really pay much attention. It was something happening in the background, something that he was told to ignore.

Well, that was a trifle harder with an erection throbbing between his legs. The pressure on his prostate, so insistent and persistent, meant that he was forced hard despite any attempt to stay soft. His cock swayed back and forth, the base brushing against the upper parts of his hind legs and the head nearly brushing his forelegs every time that he took a step. It throbbed away, almost rewarding him with pleasure for obedience at the cost of an inconvenience as he walked.

The next pulling shiver down his spine must have taken some of that information back to the plant, because the next 'response' up his spine came with a different concept.

Soft unless ordered...soft unless ordered...soft unless ordered...

Again, the words were things that he put to it, a phrase that made the command make sense as it filtered through images and feelings. Yet, at the same time, the stallion could feel his cock slowly shrinking back in, softening before gradually dragging itself back into his sheath. It wrinkled up as it lost its taut shape, and he groaned as it finally disappeared back inside of the fleshy pouch between his legs, locked back where it was supposed to be during travel.

A dull ache came up as it went soft, but he was encouraged to not notice that. All he needed to do was keep walking, and keep thinking, allowing the plant to do what it needed. Dapper-Bit, happy for the promise of something with greater focus in his life, did as he was told.

And so, he walked, and walked, and the plant pulled his mind from thought to thought, place to place. His memories of Equestria, seen through so many travels, were dragged forth from the darkest corners of his mind. Every scrap of information, every bit of knowledge that he had, every contact that he had made over the course of his life, was pulled forward and relived as he walked along. He had never had such vivid memories before, but today, he felt each one as if he was living through it again.

Through it all, his body moved, seemingly all on its own. Whenever he was aware of still walking, he was briefly made aware of the fact that he wasn’t thinking of walking or moving, but that his body was moving without his control, or consent, or order. Then, he would be made to go back to his memories, to remain impaled, soft, but dripping with the pleasure of the plant so deep within him.

Dapper-Bit submitted, letting it take over. What little will he had without panic or surprise was completely suppressed by the strange shocks that went up his spine, bringing concept-orders to his skull. They repeated until they were embedded in his brain, and each one must have taken time, for the sun seemed to jump across the sky as he traveled.

Yet, that, too, was fine, for it sped his journey along. By the time he reached the next spring, he felt as if only an hour had passed, but the progress of a day had been made. The plant…was good.

The Nest…was probably better. And from the concepts the plant pushed forward, there was something coming, something maturing, something that would be left behind in him soon. Something that would connect him to the Nest even more fully.

Chapter 2

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Dapper-Bit Twist was something different after two nights and two days with the Nest, as he had come to call the growing plant that he towed along with him. There was no other name that seemed fitting for it, and as it called itself and those beneath it the inhabitants of the Nest, he just took to calling it that. The blue-black stallion had made that choice as one of the last that he had been 'allowed' to make.

He felt...different after that much time being connected to the Nest. Spending his waking and sleeping hours with something jammed up his ass, keeping him connected and spread open, had done things to his mind, things that he didn't entirely understand. He spent more time empty, blank, waiting for something to happen, for orders to be given, than he did thinking for himself. The way that the plant stayed connected to him, the way that the Nest was making him relive his memories over the last forty-eight hours, meant that he was in the past more than the present, a thing to be drawn on rather than a living pony. He submitted to it, though, because it felt...good.

It was a combination of many things that gave him that 'good' sensation, ranging from the feeling of the tendrils rubbing his prostate and rewarding him with pleasure through the day to the feeling of 'approval' that the Nest gave off, to the scent that it put out throughout the day that lingered in his nose like a drug pulling him away from the anxieties and worries of any uncertainties. Everything about the Nest was designed, he had come to realize, to keep its servants -

Drones.

The correction-concept came up his spine without warning, reminding him that he was supposed to keep the right word in his head. Yes, they were all drones.

They.

That was a new one, and the Nest explained as it piloted him forward, directing his legs to keep stomping along the path in mechanical, orderly fashion. Stomp, stomp, stomp went his hooves against the dirt as more of the concept started flowing up his spine, burning into his brain with all the other small orders - Tail Up, Keep Walking, Keep Listening, Obey, Open - that the Nest had given him during the day. He listened, as he had listened to all the other things that he'd been told, and felt the shiver of pleasure that came with obedience.

'They' would be the drones, the extensions of the Nest. 'They' would be the other ponies that the Nest eventually welcomed under its metaphorical banner, giving them a place to be themselves, to be organized, to be extensions of the greater will that would slowly spread. The Nest liked what it had seen in Dapper-Bit's head -

He felt proud of that.

-and it wanted to see more, to do more, to be more than just a simple flower. The urge to expand was so strong that it almost set part of his anatomy to doing just that before the order of staying soft unless ordered asserted itself again in the back of his head. The number of orders piling up back there was getting almost absurd, but he took to it well. Orders, commands, general management of his life: it took away the chaos, and it made him happy.

He and the Nest had been walking for nearly eight hours when they saw the spring ahead. It was the last stopping point before they would reach Ponyville the next day, and the Nest made the decision that they would not push on through the night. The Nest had considered that to reach Ponyville earlier, but the tiredness of the drone-host was something to be considered.

Of course, Dapper-Bit hadn't realized that he was tired before the Nest mentioned it, but the passing of the concept through his mind was like the key in the door, and his body suddenly felt like it was going to drop. The firm way of walking that the Nest had pushed him through, commanded of him, had done more to his body than he had realized. It was a more aggressive form of wagon-pulling, and his body wasn't used to pushing that hard.

The Nest stayed connected right up to the point of the turn-off from the road towards the spring, only retracting when they - drone and plant - saw someone else waiting at the spring. The Nest's tendril pulled out of that open pucker so fast that Dapper-Bit almost slumped over from the rapid exit, a hint of slime running down from his pucker to his balls before it dried out completely.

"Ho the wagon!"

Dapper-Bit was more than slightly out of it as the shout rang out from the spring, his eyes hazy as he was forced to think and move and exist as himself once more. His thoughts, formerly so organized and focused, were spread all over the place, and it took him a moment to even remember that he had to keep walking. The effort that came from moving his legs on his own through that sort of exhaustion nearly convinced him to just stop and make camp there, or even fall asleep standing up, as he had seen some stallions do on the road from long trips.

But he pushed through it, approaching another earth stallion that had already made camp for the night. The other merchant, red-green in coloration, had nothing more than a tent, and his trade bags were limited to a simple set of saddlebags that he likely threw over his shoulder. He had already gotten a campfire going, too.

So many details.

Almost too many.

"You okay there, sonny?" the older stallion asked, cocking his head to the side. "Looks like you might've pushed yourself a little too hard there."

"Just...tired," he said, hoping that it would be a good enough excuse for not talking too quickly, for his huffing and puffing, for being unable to think straight. "Just going to...get this set up..."

"Here, lemme give you a hoof."

The other stallion trotted over before Dapper-Bit could think of an excuse to say no, but he was grateful for the help, nonetheless. Everything felt distant, though, and even that gratitude was something far away, something that wasn't as close to him as it would normally have been. Feeling, emotion, those things were...not gone, precisely, but muted, as if the pressure of the Nest had done something to make it harder to connect to those while he had been walking, and it hadn't turned them back to full 'volume' yet.

With the help of the older horse, they got the wagon parked and set up for the night. The Nest plant was completely still while the new guy was around, and Dapper-Bit had no orders of what to do.

"There, that oughta hold her," his new acquaintance said. "Name's Comet Leaf. You?"

"Dapper-Bit," he said.

"What's got you wandering 'round this road?"

"Trading."

"Don't talk much, do ya?"

That wasn't quite right. It was more that talking had become rather difficult with the intense level of connection that he'd had with the Nest over the last forty-eight hours. He had come to rely on the back and forth mental-chat that they'd shared, and he had to keep reminding himself that a word was not the same as a mental picture-concept. They were doing something out loud, something imprecise, something slower, something that required more time and effort to get across the whole thing.

As he tried to find words, shaking his head from the tiredness, he felt something else, something that the Nest had burned into his skull as it had pulled out. It was a simple statement, a simpler command.

Do Not Reveal Us.

"Sorry," Dapper-Bit said, forcing himself to speak a bit more normally. Fluidly. Focusing on the words, and directing his attention more thoroughly towards Comet Leaf. "It's been a long couple of days. Nobody to talk to. Nothing to talk about. It gets a little tiring when you're all alone."

"Heh, I get that, sonny, I get that."

"I hope I didn't offend. I'm just...not used to other ponies right now."

"Yeah, got that much. You sure you're okay?"

"Just that. Just...been alone too long."

"...Uh-huh."

The excuse probably wasn't working, but he was too discombobulated and too forced-tired to come up with a better one. He shook his head, walking around the wagon, the command of keeping his tail high and his pucker exposed reminding him how long it had been raised. The base of his tail actually ached from the constant tension inherent in that muscle exposure, and his hole puckered slightly as he made his way to the back of his wagon. Water. Water would probably help him quite a bit right now.

As he opened the back, pulling out his canteen and dipping it into the open water barrel that he kept for this very occasion, he heard the clop clop sounds of the other stallion making his way to the back, as well. Dapper-Bit looked over his shoulder, his eyes going wide as they dropped to the other stallion's dropping shaft.

"You know, kid. If you want some 'company' for the night, I ain't complaining. You ain't a mare, obviously, but you got a fine enough rump from all that trotting around. You good for selling what you're advertising?"

Dapper-Bit blinked, the 'offer' taking him completely off-guard. Advertising?

His tail.

His pucker.

He'd been walking around, showing off, talking about how 'lonely' he was, and that had led to this assumption that he wanted that kind of company for the night. The blue-black stallion didn't want anything of the sort, but -

"Cock got your tongue, sonny?"

"No, not at all."

"Heh, so, what do you say?"

Comet Leaf leaned against the back of the wagon, belly against Dapper-Bit's back, and that throbbing thing pressed right against his pucker, running up against it and sliming the twitching flesh. It was so sensitive from the day of being spread, and he was made to enjoy that so much.

Nevermind the fact that he hadn't had much in the way of relations.

Nevermind the fact that he had almost always been with mares before, with only one or two stallions ever touching him.

Nevermind the fact that he was completely discombobulated.

With his thoughts scattered to the wind and without direction, Dapper-Bit did the only thing that made sense to him at that moment. He leaned forward and allowed that shaft to brush against his pucker more invitingly. The sensation was different to the feeling of having that tendril - or those tendrils, even - brushing against him, and it was hotter, wetter than the feeling of the Nest sliding into him. This was something more brutal, more intense, more forceful, and there was something in him that liked that well enough to embrace it.

The flare of the other stallion's cock bround against his hole for a few seconds, pushing in, pulling out, and then pushing in properly with a firm thrust. He grunted, leaning against the back of the wagon, his hooves thumping against the rear step. Comet Leaf grunted as he slid inside.

"Mmmph...got some practice there, kid?"

"Mmmph...a...a little..."

"Don't worry. Ain't gonna go that hard."

"Mm."

"Just take it easy. I'll show ya how it's done."

True to his word, the older stallion took his time, each thrust gentle but relentless in how it kept going deeper, deeper, and deeper. Dapper-Bit let himself focus on that, telling himself to stop thinking about what this meant, or how he was going to get out of this. There was no getting out of this now, there was no stopping it. The only thing that he could do was be a good little drone, keep his tail high, and let the other male use him the way that he clearly wanted to.

In, out, in, out, the flared head grinding against his inner walls, touching places that he had forgotten. It wasn't so long that it beat the tendrils for depth, but the thickness was something new, and the lack of the constant slime that the Nest offered him was something different. He shivered and panted, his tongue hanging out after the first couple of thrusts, and by the time that Comet Leaf was able to go balls-deep, it was a completely different experience.

"You still with me, kid?"

"Mmmph...mm-hmm."

"Clenching around me pretty hard."

"S-sorry."

"Don't be. Feels good."

Getting a little nibble on the back of his neck didn't exactly stir greater lusts, but he did huff as his cock drooled from his sheath. The command to stay soft kept him from showing his pleasure, but that didn't mean that he didn't drip like hell from the feeling of being filled to that extent. He panted, his head down, his cheeks spread wide by the thick, older cock in his hole.

"You ready?"

"Mmph...think so."

"Don't think. Feel."

"Mmph...feels...feels like it."

"Okay, kid. Ain't going to take long. You good with that?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Knew it when I saw that raised tail. Bottom if ever there was one. Don't even need to cum, do you?"

He wanted to, but he could already feel that probably wasn't going to happen. Not with the way that his asshole was clenching, shifting, not with the way that his cock was stuck in his sheath and refused to drop without an order. He nodded.

"Don't need it..."

"Good boy."

He enjoyed that, but not as much as the sudden bucks from behind, Comet Leaf finally letting loose and humping away. He arched his back against it, taking it with his mouth hanging open. The slow strings of drool from his mouth and his cock left him gasping, wet, messy from the constant barrage of pleasure, but it didn't matter. Dignity didn't matter for him anymore, not with that feeling of that flare and the medial ring alike slamming down on his sensitive, needy prostate.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The feeling of those muscular hips slapping against his ass, the way that his pucker was slowly swelling with the rough use, the sensation of those heavy, leathery balls swinging forward and tapping his: it all combined to make him feel...good. Good and hot and needy with the raw feeling of hot sex with another stallion. His previous, much more limited experiences had never gone this far, never reached a stage of actually getting rutted the way that a mare might have been. All he'd felt were the casual touches, the gentle licks, the occasional pressure of a hoof or a toy back there. This...

This was something different.

This was something better.

As Comet Leaf thrust away, huffing against his mane, coming close to knocking his top-hat off time and time again, Dapper-Bit just stared straight ahead. His face was the picture of pleasure, his cock was oozing so much pre-cum that it might have been a waterfall beneath him, but the biggest takeaway was how easy it was to just go with it, to just take orders, to just let himself be guided.

He needed it.

They all needed it.

In, out, in, out, the tapping of sac to sac getting faster and faster, and the other male was huffing harder and needier against his mane. He knew that they weren't going to last for much longer; they were going to go over the edge, and they were going to do it hard.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

And then staying in, the flare getting wider, the pumping seed getting thicker as it filled him. Dapper-Bit huffed, wanting to cum, feeling himself right on the edge, but the Nest's programming remained. He had to stay soft unless ordered to be hard, and for the moment, that was as effective as a chastity rule. He stood there, drooling pre-cum - so much pre-cum - between his rear hooves as his belly felt like it was bloating from Comet Leaf's load.

"Ha...ha...that's...that's a good one..."

Then he pulled. The flare dragged back, pulling through his inner walls before getting stopped at his pucker. There was a short moment of pressure, something pulling where it wasn't supposed to pop free, before finally coming loose. He gasped, his head dropping down for a moment, shocked out of his dazed state, and Comet Leaf grunted as he walked around.

"Yeah, that about did it. Thanks, kid."

"Mmph...any time."

"You come 'round Ponyville when I get back, and I'll do it to ya again. That is, if ya want it."

"I'll remember that."

And if he didn't, the Nest would.

Exhaustion had become too much. He finished getting his water, sucked down half a canteen's worth, and then dragged a blanket free. Comet Leaf went to the far side of the fire, flopped out, and was unconscious in seconds.

As for Dapper-Bit, he walked back around to the front of the wagon and locked himself between the pull-bars again. The Nest extended one tendril, ever so slightly, and he laid his tail over it to hide it during the night. As soon as it 'plugged in', he closed his eyes, and he was off to dreamland.

He woke the next morning, slightly stiff but otherwise fine. Comet Leaf was already gone; he wondered if the older stallion was merely early-to-bed, early-to-rise, or if he'd been too disturbed with Dapper-Bit's behavior before they'd fucked. Desperation had probably played a part in last night's coupling, if he was completely honest with himself, but -

Coupling.

Sex.

Fucking.

Rutting.

Information.

Dapper-Bit stomped one hoof as he stood ram-rod straight, the Nest pulling at the information in his head. Previously, it had mostly been interested in the geography of the world, in the ponies that populated it, in the idea of drones and expansion. Now, after the rut that Dapper-Bit had experienced, it wanted to know about sex.

Just like before, his memories were dragged out of the back of his mind, pulled forward and shoved to the forefront. Every memory of every fuck that he'd had throughout his life was forced up, making him live through it, feel it as if he was right there all over again. The time that he had enjoyed some touching with another mare just before leaving school. That time that he'd been given a 'bribe' during one of the customs checks, one of the mares there sucking his cock for the sake of getting some of his goods. The rare time that he had gotten drunk on berry-juice that had fermented without him knowing, and the fun that he'd had with the partner that he'd been trading with at the time.

They came and came and came, and he wanted nothing more than the chance to cum, at first. Yet, the information took precedence, and as the ripples went down his spine, his desires, his needs, were pushed off to the side. He stood there, silent as the grave, doing nothing but staring straight ahead.

The sun skipped twice, and when the newest download was over, it was halfway towards noon. The Nest pulled out of him, and he knew that it was considering something -

Squelch.

The soft, wet sound was something that he had not expected, and he looked over his shoulder. The Nest had lifted one of its roots from its sandy pot, and from it, a wriggling, worm-like creature was slowly emerging. One of its other tendrils reached to him again, sliding in to communicate.

Connection.

Presence.

Orders.

The image-concepts poured through, and with it, relief. It was something that would connect him deeper to the Nest, a presence of the Nest that would get attached to his insides and carry with it the newest orders. The time that it had to spend programming him directly was ineffecient, and it led to moments like the fuck last night, which could have been disastrous if Comet Leaf had been more of the suspicious sort rather than the older, hornier sort.

With this, he would have continued orders, updated every time that he pushed himself down on one of the tendrils - which, he realized, were becoming thicker. So was the plant, as it had grown to nearly three and a half feet tall, and the tendrils had gone from soft, beaded strings to something almost the width of a baby dragon's finger. The Nest was growing, and soon, he wondered if it would even be possible for him to keep it on the small wagon.

Dapper-Bit put that thought to the side and leaned his rump back. The root lifted up, and as it touched his hole, he felt the worm. It was thicker than the tendrils, though not by much, and with his ass freshly fucked the way that it was, there was no difficulty with it sliding in. He didn't shiver, didn't squirm, not like he had done with the rut. This was different. This was more focused. This was...this was programmed, to hold still, to allow the infestation and connection to happen.

The worm wiggled from side to side, squirming and 'swimming' against his hole. The cum oozing out was both barrier and aid, forcing the new creature to push itself harder. The tendrils pressed against Dapper-Bit's cheeks, forcing them further apart, and he stared straight ahead, almost smiling as he waited for the worm to get inside of him, to connect him, to keep him feeling...focused. Right. On track for the Nest.

Finally, it slid inside, and there was a surprising weight to it as it fell inside of his ass. He clenched for a moment, but it didn't seem to harm the slimy creature as it wriggled deeper. It pressed down against the bump that was his prostate and -

A bolt of lightning not dissimilar to the Nest's connection to his spine jolted through him, nearly sending him off his feet through the sheer shock of it. Whereas the Nest felt like a vast, empty hole that was sucking down all the information that he had in his head or an endless well when it was pushing shocks of information into his mind, this was different. This was more like...like a book compared to a library, a set of instructions that were detailed and were always being added to, but more...focused. And it was already pushing its set of information right up to his head with miniature jolts that came with more intense, more focused image-concepts, as if they'd been customized just for him.

Travel.

Find drones.

Find safe place.

Sleep.

Bring Nest to...

The input stopped, and the output began. He felt the worm in his hole starting to reach out for him, spreading up his spine and going through the bits of memories that it knew were in his head. There were many different things to touch on, many different ponies to examine. It processed some of them, putting them against its own goals, and he could feel it going through the list of ponies he knew before it arrived at the proper target.

Bring Nest to Twilight Sparkle.

The image of the purple alicorn popped into his head, and he knew just what they wanted. The Nest wanted a safe place, and it wanted more information. The last time that he had been in Ponyville, Twilight had spread the small, hollowed-out library tree further and further, using her magic to grow it upwards and downwards, and even outwards to cover the entire open area around it. The library had become one of the premier sources of information across all of Equestria, and there were ponies in and out of it all day, every day, looking for sources on some subject or another. If they were able to convince Twilight to allow herself to be linked to the Nest, even temporarily, the library would be one of the safest places for the Nest to rest, because it could be hidden further down, surrounded by all the information that it needed for its expansion.

Dapper-Bit would be a good drone, but he did send concept-images back. Time, space, the distance between them and Ponyville, the energy it would take to get there, the energy that he would need to be convincing when they arrived so that she would understand the need to be linked to the Nest. All of those things were factors, and while he was not saying no, he was saying that it would not be immediate.

To his relief, the worm in him understood. The security and safety of the Nest was paramount; while they only had one drone, they would work with him, use his understanding of how the world worked to their advantage, and push forward only when they had to.

Dapper-Bit sighed in relief.

Maintenance.

The concept-image didn't match the word that came to mind, but he had no time to think about it before the parasite worm within had started seizing control of his body. The shock-ripples of communication were replaced with something more intense, something like...like roots sinking in through his prostate, running through the various bits of tubing down there. Some of them went down, down, down, touching at his testicles, running through his sac in a very different way than he was used to, while others tended further up, drifting towards his bladder and the mass of liquid up there that had been ignored for far too long. A sense of desperation hit him at that moment, leaving him standing up a bit straighter, eyes wider, wanting to let his shaft drop for relief, but bound by command.

Release.

The worm was taking control of his penis, and it gave him the command. His sheath opened, shaft spilling out and falling down. The head pointed towards the earth between his hooves, and he groaned, feeling his bladder spasming, wanting to empty itself -

Releasing.

The shock to the system that such utter relief brought was nearly enough to take him off his hooves. Only the sheer control that the parasite worm had over his legs kept him from doing that, but his head did sag down. The sense of relief that came with that heated fluid running through his shaft, the utter drainage of his bladder, the way that his shaft lifted up from the pressure of it coming out: it all hit him at once, and he let his mouth hang open. Thankfully, he was a big enough stallion that there was no risk of it splattering his face, but he imagined that his face would have been quite amusing to any number of stallions that happened to wander by.

The flow continued for far too long, and when it finally faded to a trickle, he felt...better. He had just a moment to enjoy it before -

Releasing secondary.

The second shock went to his sac, and a tense soreness that he had only been scarcely aware of suddenly released. The constant pressure of wanted pleasure from the night before washed over him, sending him over the edge to orgasm...but not in the same way that he was used to. It didn't overwhelm him, nor did it feel like it was leading to that sleepy feeling that usually came after his explosive moments when he was with someone else. Instead, it felt...almost like a draining thing, a relief to get rid of pressure, just as it had felt with his bladder.

As white mixed with mud, a second release of his bladder followed, clearing everything out, and the worm slowly dragged his shaft back into his sheath. He felt...better, emptier, which was a real change considering just how full both of those had been.

Integration continuing. Keep walking.

Dapper-Bit didn't even nod. Instead, he pushed himself forward against the pull-rods on either side, dragging the wagon forward. There was a brief moment where it threatened to get stuck in the mud that he'd left behind with his various releases, but he had the momentum and the strength to keep moving forward. The slow tucking of his shaft back into its sheath was a pleasant feeling, but one that he rapidly put out of his head as he got back on the road.

It wouldn't take more than a few hours to get to Ponyville, but they were starting late. He was thinking about what they would have to do when he arrived, what they'd do with sunset pending. The next day was when they'd meet with Twilight Sparkle, but for tonight, finding a place to stay - a hostel or an inn - would be the best choice. There would be other ponies there, and that would be awkward, but he trusted the Nest. Every time that he gave it more information, it found a way to improve itself, and him. Sooner or later, they would work out all the kinks.

Sooner or later, he would become the perfect drone.

Walk, walk, walk, and as he walked, he drifted back to that dream again. The dream of everyone being perfectly ordered, perfectly managed. Everything on time, everyone pushed to their proper place, everyone having exactly what they needed and not having flights of fancy that disrupted the lives of those that brought the necessities and the luxuries. They were always on time, and nothing went wrong.

Dapper-Bit looked forward to that being a reality. With the Nest, that was possible. With the Nest, that would be what all ponies would become.

Proper Drone.

It was a statement, but it came through almost as a compliment, so he took it as such. He would have smiled, but the worm was already starting to integrate with his facial muscles, taking control of them, keeping his cheeks neutral for the moment. Yet, he still felt the smile for the praise, faint and perhaps unmeant as it was.

Behind him, the Nest plant swayed from side to side, completely silent. The difference between what he felt now and the constant connection of the last two days was so strange, but at the same time, almost...right. This was what he would become, what all of them would become: creatures that served the Nest, who had commands and orders that were updated every so often, but kept to a brisk schedule and set of commands. This was good. This was right.

But it was also new, and he wasn't used to it yet. Fortunately, he knew that the worm within would gradually help him along that path. He just had to let himself be open to it, and be a good drone for the worm.

And he could do that. He could do that very well.

The stallion continued his walk under the cooling sun, putting the desert behind him and making his way through the outskirts of the forests around Ponyville. He still had a long way to go, and he didn’t want to get too distracted, even as his fantasies grew ever stronger, and the worm inside him did nothing to dissuade him from feeling them as completely real.

Chapter 3

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The edge of the forest was a comfort for Dapper-Bit Twist, as much as he could feel comfort in the same way with the worm in his ass. It was a distant thing, something that he could feel being analyzed and processed by his new companion of the Nest, and it would probably be given back to the Nest itself when the whole thing was over and done with, processed further and made into something that was useful for the other hosts.

And there would be other hosts. He was already sure of it.

Ponyville loomed upwards as soon as he stepped through the last segment of the forest path, the once-small town turned into…well, still a town, but thriving, with many different visitors and more of a chunk of it dedicated to those that came as tourists and to visit the library that Twilight Sparkle had put together. The new buildings stood out against the older, more rustic houses and businesses, but they had less charm and character, he’d always thought.

There was less thinking and more planning as he walked in, his wagon creaking behind him. His tail had finally gone down in the last couple of minutes, the parasite within him finally applying that particular bit of ‘fixing’ to the initial orders from the Nest to avoid ‘advertising’ the way that they had with Comet Leaf, so he didn’t stand out among the other traders coming to town. He trotted between them, finding gaps for his wagon as he nodded and bobbed his head towards the other ponies on the street.

Some were familiar. The parasite within pushed forward memories that it had drained from him earlier. Faces – like Mr. Cake at one of the stalls – slid into priority lists, and he turned the wagon slightly to meet the baker with a small smile. The feeling of the parasite taking control of his face and reminding him what he needed to do was strange, but comforting. It was a reminder that he would be taken care of, that he wouldn’t be allowed to make his own mistakes under the control of the Nest.

“Morning, Mr. Cake,” he said.

“Hey, welcome back, Mr. Twist,” the baker said, bobbing his head with a grin. “Long time, no see.”

“It’s been a while, yeah.”

“Anything good for me?”

“Well –”

“Oh, and the wife says hi.”

Wife.

Yes.

There was a memory that the parasite pulled up, or at least, a reminder. Not that they had been intimate with Mrs. Cake, but rather that she had put in a special order for him to pick up while he was out. He would need to make that delivery. He’d almost forgotten.

“I’ll send her round the inn later, eh?” Mr. Cake asked.

“Yes, yes, please do,” Dapper-Bit said.

“Heh, great. Anything you need?”

He looked down, waiting for orders from the parasite. There was a sense of hunger in his belly, but not that great a one, considering that he had been walking along for a few hours. The parasite considered, and he felt the shiver-shakes of it reaching up his spine, testing different parts of his body, measuring it as it had started doing during the day.

Was he thirsty?

Was he really hungry?

If so, how much?

Where were the nearest remembered sources?

All of those things and more were sampled, examined, and sorted out in the space of a few seconds, and Dapper-Bit was made to raise his head, meeting Mr. Cake’s eyes again.

“I think I’m good, thanks.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

He did, and so did the parasite. Flickers of memory passed before his eyes before the parasite pulled it back again, and he was on his way to the inn.

It was a different day compared to being possessed by the Nest. When the plant itself was controlling him, he felt like he was being, for lack of a better word, piloted around the area. He felt like he was constantly focused forward, without agency, without even much awareness that anything was happening. The two days of being ‘plugged in’ to the plant had felt like he was not even there, as if his awareness was shoved to the back of his mind to allow the Nest full access to his body, thoughts, and even his ability to think.

The parasite was something else. It nestled in his rump, a weight in his stomach, and though it was attached to him by various fleshy roots through his prostate – and he could feel others wiggling, trembling, shivering, shocking in his lower tubing from time to time – it was more a director, a source of control, a thing that followed the pre-assigned rules of the Nest rather than something that took all control out of his head. He was told his orders, expected to follow them like a good drone, and the parasite stepped in when he was unclear, when he didn’t know what to do, or if he was at risk of breaking an order.

It was a unique balance between being emptied of all awareness and consciousness and being allowed to be free. He didn’t want to be free. Not anymore. It was more…more pleasurable, more pleasant, and just easier to be controlled like this, informed and instructed.

So, he didn’t complain when the parasite stopped him several times along the way to the Gilded Saddle, nor did he feel bothered when it made him raise his tail experimentally towards a few of the males that they passed by. It was experimenting with what they’d found out with their experience with Comet Leaf, testing the waters, finding out just how well flirting and sex would work to cover them and make contact with others.

None of the males flashed showed interest, however, and each time, their exposed pucker was only met with a blink, a blush, and a rapid interest in moving on. A shame.

They continued down the street, eventually coming to the sign of the Gilded Saddle. Dapper-Bit had stayed there multiple times in his journeys to and around Ponyville, and he remembered liking both the décor and the company here. The inn was run by a pegasus that had retired from the traveling life, and most of the locals liked to come in for the cider and more.

He stopped at the sign, leaning around the doorway. The pegasus owner – a silver-green pony by the name of Mr. Cumulus – waved one hoof from the bar.

“Dapper! Good to see you, old chum. Room for the night?”

“Mmm-hmm. Space for my wagon, too, if you got it.”

“Course I do. Just go ‘round back and park where you like.”

“Usual spot?”

“Yep. Kept it clear for you,” the pegasus said.

The parasite, if such things could feel, might have felt something like pride for accomplishing its goals of subterfuge as they dragged the wagon around and behind the building. As it stood, there was no such feeling, at least, not in any way that he could feel through his prostate, his spine, and everything else that the parasite was connected to.

But he did feel arousal as he walked around the building, and he could feel the parasite clenching a little tighter to his inner walls, pressing firmly against that sensitive bud. The pleasure, almost but not quite a reward, rippled through him, but –

Soft unless ordered…soft unless ordered…

That was there, too, the command to stay in his sheath, to not do anything. It had gathered enough of his memories to know that a public display of a dropped cock would be commented on. Other subtleties were still being processed, but that one, the parasite had learned, was not one that it could risk so much in public.

They walked the wagon to the back of the inn, where several other carts had been parked. He backed the wagon into place, unhitched himself, and turned to the Nest. The plant was still, quiescent, and showed no signs of movement, as had been the plan. Dapper-Bit Twist leaned under it, nudging the near-too-small pot out of the seat on the front of the wagon, and placed it on his back for transport up to the room.

It trembled, then. The tendrils reached out, almost like they were tempted to hook into him. He flagged his tail obediently, but though the tendrils touched him, they did not take him.

After a few seconds, the parasite got him moving again. The stallion walked in through the back door and was instantly surrounded by the insane noise and persistent pressure of dozens of other ponies.

This…I did not miss…

The parasite and Dapper-Bit were in agreement on that; the feeling of being surrounded by so much chaos did neither of them any good, and the parasite, so used to the feeling of just one – or at most, two – ponies was frazzled. The constant input from Dapper-Bit’s mind, the various sensory blasts that it had to process, were almost too much. They wobbled slightly, almost drunkenly, towards the bar.

Thankfully, Mr. Cumulus was already ready with the room key, and tossed it to them with a kick of one hind-hoof. They caught it on their back and kept moving, heading for the stairs before the sensory overload could send them to their knees.

Clop, clop, clop they went, up the stairs and around the corner. Once the din was gone, they were able to stand up straight again. The parasite pushed them to move a bit quicker, and they did, quickly unlocking their assigned room and stepping inside. Letting the Nest slide off their back and settle in the corner, the parasite turned them around and faced toward the far side of the room.

Then, and only then, did the Nest access them. The pressure of the tendrils pressed against their rump, pushing the cheeks further apart to make their already-puffy hole that much more noticeable, and one of them – thicker, twice as thick as it had been the first time that it had reached inside to program him – slid in deep, the little nodules along the sides of the tendril fluttering against his pucker in a soft, pleasant way.

The tendril made contact with the parasite, and the soft, almost forgotten shocks of access that the parasite made were replaced with a blast of lightning that shot right up his spine. The sheer power of the Nest compared to its offspring nearly knocked him out, but those strange shocks seized hold of his thoughts, keeping him ‘in’ his head rather than knocking him back the way that it had done on the road.

There was an exchange going on, Dapper-Bit was aware. The parasite in him was saying something to the Nest, and the Nest was talking back. Information was passing between them, flickers of…something? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t make sense. They were talking too fast, too furiously for him to make out anything but the presence of –

Throb.

Drop.

Swell.

The Nest’s touch came with permission – no, an order – to get hard. He was made to stiffen up, his shaft slowly dragged out with his blood being redirected, forced down, flowing into his shaft to make it emerge from his sheath. The zapping, burning feeling up and down his spine of the Nest’s utter control hit him hard, and it did what it wanted to him. His mind was its playground, able to be programmed, modified, shifted as it wanted, and it was experimenting now, making his dick rise up.

He felt it, experienced the ‘pleasure’ of a hard-on, but there was none of the usual teasing heat that came with the rising of an erection. Instead of the raw rutting force that had come before when he got hard, there was more…more of an awareness of his erection. The sensation of being hard was underneath it, part of that awareness, but the sensuality of it was lacking.

It twitched.

It throbbed.

Dapper-Bit felt it lunge up, his crotch muscles making the shaft swing up and slap against his stomach, his body made to ‘masturbate’ slightly to test out different things. Then, he felt the parasite do the same, and realized what was going on.

The Nest was ‘teaching’ the parasite in him how to invoke different reactions. It was ‘teaching’ its offspring how to properly control and use that thing, if the need arose.

He was thankful that it was learning. He was more thankful that it would be able to keep him from making mistakes.

It was less sexual, and more a sense of bodily experimentation. His shaft was forced hard, hard as could be, to the point where his flare ached from the sheer tension running through it, only to be forced soft again, dangling, but not quite allowing it to retreat into his sheath. He felt the parasite getting better access to his bladder again, but not releasing, more probing, pushing, testing. He didn’t understand what it was trying to do, but –

The focus of the two – the parasite and the Nest – changed, and he was given a mental image. A picture of his memory of Twilight Sparkle, the purple-haired, lavender-furred alicorn that was meant to be their contact. They made him think of her, and as he did, they plundered his memories.

The shocks split, some going up and down his spine, some going through his prostate via the parasite as the Nest spoke to both of them. There was a refining going on, a re-focusing between them.

Bring the Nest.

Convince her.

Break her.

Impale her.

Infest her.

Bring her into the Nest.

The instructions could not have been more clear, and imagining them as his assignment was incredibly easy. All he had to do was follow what he was told, and the Nest would expand further. He would not be the only one being pushed through a new life. The town around them would slowly expand.

As he understood his instructions and the Nest knew that he did, it began to pull, to suck, to drag the information out of his head and out of the parasite. It was comparing and contrasting the information between what he had seen – the raw sensory information – and what the parasite remembered – the results of chosen actions with the sensory information. Dapper-Bit didn’t know what it was doing, but he didn’t need to. That was part of being a drone for the Nest. A drone didn’t have to think, nor did it have to correct itself. It just had to follow orders and be part of the coherent whole.

Thinking had always been tiring, and it had always left him worrying more than it left him with comfort. This was the better way of existing; submitting himself to the Nest had been the best possible choice he could have made.

The Nest pulled out of his head, and he was allowed to rest. The Nest had him lean his head against the bed, and it began the process of ‘talking’ to the parasite in him alone. The shocks of pleasure were enough to comfort him, leaving his sheath dripping as he closed his eyes and rested.

Unfortunately, his rest was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

The Nest withdrew quickly, leaving him completely discombobulated. Thought, action, understanding fled, and his ability to react to the surprising sound were ripped from him.

But not from the parasite.

He was a passenger in his own body as he was piloted toward the door. He wobbled, yes, and he wasn’t entirely stable on his feet, but he was able to keep a smile on his face as he opened it and peered around the corner.

“Hmm? Oh, hello, Mrs. Cake.”

The pudgy mare smiled at him, her fluffy, cotton-candy-like mane flicked back over her shoulders. She giggled.

“Oh, dear, did I interrupt you, Dapper-Bit?”

“No, no, I was just sleeping,” he said.

“Sleeping? Oh. Oh! I’m sorry, I was – I shouldn’t have assumed such things.”

She blushed, and the slowly-refocusing Dapper-Bit had a guess what she’d been imagining. Considering that the room probably had a very distinct ‘stallion-y’ smell to it at the moment from all the programming that had been happening while he rested, it probably stunk of masturbation and self-pleasure. He shook his head.

“No problem. I think Mr. Cumulus just hadn’t had the chance to clean it out before I got here.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I just –”

“It’s fine. Are you here for your shipment?”

“Is this a bad time? You’re not usually so…”

Grumpy.

Yes.

The parasite was already changing gears, going from one programmed set of responses to another. Dapper-Bit felt it like a change in frequency, the hum of instructions through his ass and up his spine changing to reflect the new focus that they should take, the new tack to their interaction.

“Sorry. Like I said, I was sleeping. Let me get my things, and I’ll be right down to the wagon-yard.”

“Oh, thank you. I just need it for tomorrow’s goods. You understand.”

“Heh, yes, don’t worry. Sorry for the grouchiness.”

“No worries. Sorry for waking you, dear.”

“See you in a minute.”

The mare turned – tail down, the parasite noted, and filed that away – and he shut the door. The moment it clicked shut, the tired smile that the parasite had put on faded away. No, not even faded, but completely disappeared, instantly. There was no reason to wear it when there was nobody around to see it.

Dapper-Bit assumed that they would go down and get the goods immediately, but instead, he felt his sheath filling once more. There was a tightness in his balls, something that he didn’t entirely understand, something that felt…pleasant, yes, but more like something reaching in, like the tendrils that the parasite had let out were slowly stirring up his sac. The grunts of discomfort mixed with pleasure were stifled, and soon, he forgot about making them.

He reached out – as instructed – for the mug on the nightstand that all guests were provided, and laid it on the floor. Walking over it as his shaft dropped, he felt it just…hanging there. For a moment, he didn’t understand.

Then, he felt it.

Pulse.

It felt like a slow clenching of muscles deep down inside, the tubes that connected his balls to his prostate to his shaft squeezing down and almost sucking on the fluid that was kept down there. Like a foal sipping at a straw, the parasite was dragging the juices from his sac and pulling it through his prostate – then through itself – then back through the tubing, sending it out through his dangling dick.

Pulse.

The feeling of being ‘milked’ like this for his seed was strange, but oddly enjoyable in its own distant fashion. There was no twitch to his hips, no sudden thrusts that made him swing his hips around. At least, not after the first one that left a slight stain on the floorboards before aiming down at the cup properly again. It was a long, slow drizzle, like a syrup from a bottle into a foaming drink, but eventually, the cup was half-full.

Dapper-Bit was made to back up, then reach down to take the cup between his hooves. He carefully lifted it up and put it on his back, as he had done with a number of other things, but he didn’t know what it was for.

At least, not at first.

The parasite ‘indulged’ him with a concept-image. It showed him the older mare drinking the fluid, showed him her face going red. It imagined the mare in her home – a place that he had seen, else the parasite wouldn’t have been able to visualize it – and showed her grinding back, teasing herself, indulging herself.

An aphrodisiac?

No. The parasite clarified with a second set of concept-images. This time, it showed two contrasting images. The first showed Mrs. Cake impaled on the Nest’s tendrils, screaming, fighting and pushing against it. The second showed her blushing, red, completely insensate with need, while the tendrils were able to do what they wanted without any hindrance.

Yet, under it all was a sense of experimentation, unsureness, questioning. It took the drone-stallion a moment to understand, and to be privileged with the fact that the parasite had bothered to explain rather than just making him do it.

It was an experiment. They were testing whether this was supposed to work the way that the Nest hoped it would. This was an order, something to further their goals when it came to finding Twilight tomorrow. If this worked on Mrs. Cake, then they had something that they could use with Twilight to make her more inclined to allow the Nest to work on her.

There was no need to nod. Dapper-Bit understood what he was supposed to do.

But there was one more step. The parasite was aware of the goods that he’d carried with him to the room, and there was a bottle of wine that had, at one point, been one of the highlights of his goods to sell. However, it would serve better as a means of masking the seed that he had been milked of. It would disguise just what he was offering, and the rarity of it would make it seem exotic enough that the baker wouldn’t question its origin. He popped the cork of the bottle and poured it in, matching the amount of sexual fluids with the alcoholic beverage.

He walked out of the room and down the stairs. The din encouraged the host and parasite to move quickly to the outside before they could be afflicted by the sensory overload that the Nest had yet to fix, and they were soon outside, standing by the back of their wagon. Mrs. Cake was there, waiting for them, pacing back and forth, but she smiled as soon as she saw them.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here.”

“Yeah, sorry for the wait,” Dapper-Bit said, the parasite picking his words carefully. “I just remembered something I wanted to share.”

“What’s that? Another rare ingredient?”

The baker’s eyes went wide as she grinned. Memory had told the parasite and the Nest, among many other things, that Mrs. Cake was a great experimenter, always looking for something new, something different, something she could make something new out of. It was why she paid him so many bits to bring her the custom orders that he did, since nobody else visiting Ponyville went so far abroad and touched on so many different cultures across Equestria.

It made for a perfect cover of offering her a cup of pre-cum. He reached over his shoulder, grabbing the mug’s handle with his teeth before placing it on his hoof.

“It’s a rare wine from one of the southern lands.”

“Oh, really? What kind?”

“It’s very different. Vaguely salty, but with a savory undertone,” Dapper-Bit said, pulled to improvise on top of the parasite. It was not that he had been pulled forward to do something that the parasite could not, but more that the parasite was nudging him, encouraging him, pulling on his salesmanship to disguise what it actually was. “It wouldn’t work in, say, one of your sweet cakes, but if you had some pies or something that went saltier, you could bring a great deal of extra flavor to your goods with something like this.”

“Oh, do let me taste it?”

“That’s why I brought you the mug. Go ahead.”

She took it in hoof and brought it to her lips. Even through the control of the parasite, there was no denying the sort of pleasure that came with seeing a mare guzzling down his pre-cum. Thankfully, the parasite was able to hide the drone’s smile, keeping him from giving the game away too early.

Sip, sip, sip, and then one last head-tilt to take the whole thing down. Mrs. Cake groaned, giving him the mug back as she ground her lips against her shoulder.

“Mmmph…that’s definitely…definitely salty,” she said, coughing slightly. “And thick. So…so thick. I didn’t think that they could make a drink like that.”

“Well, it’s not that thicker than hot chocolate, and you make plenty of that.”

“But that’s sweet. That…”

“Is it that bad?”

Their slight ‘fear’ – for though the parasite could not fear, it could feel tense, tight, and it was certainly that around his prostate at that moment – faded as the baker started to go red-cheeked, just as she had done in the parasite’s image-concept. She shifted her hind legs back and forth, biting her lip for a moment.

“Oh…oh, I think it’s…Mm. Okay…maybe there’s something to that one, after all.”

“I’m glad that you find it interesting, at least, Mrs. Cake.”

“Um…Do you have…more of that?”

“Not much, but a few more bottles, perhaps.”

“Is there any chance –”

“Let me see if anyone else wants the chance for them first, Mrs. Cake. Until then, shall I get your shipment?”

“Shipment. Right. Yes. Sorry.”

She was clearly a bit out of it, but that was all to the better for the experiment. Neither the parasite – nor the Nest, he imagined – had thought that it would happen this quickly, but it had. By the time that he had unloaded her crate from the back of the wagon, she was shifting from hoof to hoof almost constantly, and her muscles in her flanks and lower back were straining to keep her tail down. It was almost too funny, in some ways, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that the parasite was keeping his face neutral, he wasn’t sure if he could have managed it.

As Mrs. Cake bobbed her head in thanks, strapping the package to her back, her control slipped. Her tail went up, and he had a brief view of her sex, her pucker, and both of them clenching hard at the need that the little drink had given her. Not quite like a mare in heat – though near enough – but certainly a view that would have enticed any male that happened to be passing by.

She wasn’t, however, without awareness. She realized what she did and immediately yanked her tail back down, whipping herself around on her front hooves. With bright-red cheeks, she shook her head.

“Please don’t tell my husband I did that.”

“Did what?” Dapper-Bit said.

“…Thank you. I don’t – I’m not myself. Was that…was that the drink? Do…do they do, ahem, perverted things where you picked that up?”

“They weren’t when I was visiting.”

“But…do they?”

Dapper-Bit shrugged.

“Oh, dear…maybe…Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Mrs. Cake. Perhaps it’s just something that’s an initial reaction. After all, wine makes ponies do strange things, does it not?”

“Well…true…”

“And even a pony that’s only had cider – if they have enough of it – could make a fool of themselves, too.”

“Yes, yes. Oh, the things I did when I was younger…”

“This is merely a little stronger. I’m sure that, if you have a few other samples, you’ll quickly develop a tolerance for it.”

The parasite was lying, of course. She would develop a taste, rather than a tolerance, and Dapper-Bit could only imagine what would happen to the normally-conservative baker if she was hit with more doses of his pre-cum, tainted as it was by the Nest and the parasite. But she need not hear that; she wasn’t ready to be part of the Nest, not yet, and she needed time to be brought to that way of thinking.

Besides, they still had their real target. Twilight Sparkle was the first that would fall to the Nest, and that would happen tomorrow, if the plan went off without a hitch. Considering what they’d learned with this, the chances of the alicorn actually seeing through what they had planned were almost nonexistent.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Cake.”

“G-goodnight, Mr. Twist. Oh, goodness.”

The baker turned to leave, her tail twitching as she fought her body. Dapper-Bit had a moment to imagine that her husband would probably have a very fun night tonight before the parasite turned him back to the inn. They had a great deal of reporting to do to the Nest, and the Nest had more to do to them.

However, before they could get far, they were stopped in the common room of the inn by another pony. This one was a doctor – Doctor Stable, as a matter of fact – and he waved a hoof from his table.

“Dapper, my good friend! When’d you get in?”

“Just a – a few hours ago,” he said, stumbling over his words from both the noise and the realization that he hadn’t actually known how long he’d been out. The parasite had had to step in again. “I was just headed back to my room.”

“Why don’t you take a moment? Take a load off your hooves?”

“It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”

“You can sleep in tomorrow. Come on. Let me take a look at you. You never take care of yourself.”

That was a little more true than he cared to admit, and both parasite and host knew what the doctor would see if he got a close look. Sweat, strain, exhaustion: all those things that meant that Dapper-Bit had been pushing himself harder than he should, and possibly more. The parasite had a distrust of the doctor, too, which wasn’t helped by the fact that an ‘exam’ could quickly turn internal if the other stallion didn’t like what he was seeing. And considering where that internal exam meant probing, that would quickly uncover the parasite itself.

No, that was a non-starter. They had to get out of that.

“Tomorrow,” Dapper-Bit said.

“…There’s something serious, isn’t there?” Doctor Stable said.

“What makes you think that?”

“You never turn down a free exam.”

The parasite did not ‘panic,’ precisely, but it was caught on the back foot. Though the Nest had updated them with better instructions and a slightly better tolerance for the constant noise and sensory overload that was the common room of the inn, the parasite and the host weren’t taking it well. They weren’t at the top of their game, and they were making mistakes, forgetting things.

“I promise, we’ll talk tomorrow. It’s nothing serious, but I want to be sure that I’m not making mistakes,” Dapper-Bit said.

“…You’re sure? Nothing bad? Nothing that’s going to make me curse you out and lock you in a hospital because you tried to pretend that you were okay when you weren’t?”

Was it pretending when you were flat-out lying to someone else that nothing was wrong? Or was it telling the truth, when he really didn’t think that there was anything wrong with him compared to how his life had been before? Either way, Dapper-Bit nodded.

“I’m sure. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Alright. Guess it must have been an extra-long walk. You sleep, doctor’s orders, and I’ll see you tomorrow after your business meetings, okay?”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

Doctor Stable nodded, and Dapper-Bit began the ascent towards the upper floor. The second that they were able to leave the din of the lower rooms behind, they felt better, but they also knew that they had a long night ahead. There were a great many ‘updates’ that they’d need to get from the Nest, and something would have to be done about getting overloaded by too many things at once. The parasite in him was just not used to that much information, and needed something to be able to handle it. And future generations would have to be made better in the first place to be able to take it at all.

But that was part of the process. The Nest would evolve, and so would they.

Chapter 4

View Online

With morning came awareness, and awareness brought with it the realization that several preparations were needed before the meeting with Twilight Sparkle. The parasite inside his ass passed those requirements up Dapper-Bit’s spine, and he felt them slotting into place like items on a list.

Collect urine to mix with cider.

Rent a cart from Mr. Cumulus.

Re-pot the Nest.

The last was accompanied by an image-concept of the Nest’s point of view of him from behind. The plant, which had once been barely two feet tall, now stood at least five feet high, and the top actually peered over his rump. It was nearly at a level with his head if he leaned forward rather than standing tall, and that meant that the pot was going to need some serious expansion. Dapper-Bit was given the dimensions by the parasite, and knew that the parasite had been given the dimensions in image-translation from the Nest itself so that it would be done properly.

But the process started with urine collection. He would start at the top and work his way down, as instructed.

He was trotted mechanically over to the nightstand, where he’d left a series of other bottles after a quick trip back down to the wagon. Rather than wine, this time he chose cider, pulling the cork out before tilting the bottle out. He drained a little less than half of the drink, ensuring that the remaining yellow liquid should mask most of the taste that he’d be putting in to replace it, and set the bottle on the floor.

Even without the parasite helping him, he knew that this would have been a nearly-impossible task for a solo stallion. Without hooves to hold the bottle, or someone else to guide his shaft, there was no way to aim easily at it. Yet, the parasite knew what the body could do, and knew how to guide it better than he did.

Slither, slide, shift. His shaft came loose from his sheath in short order, wiggling down and half-extending as the parasite experimented with various levels of erection until it found one that would fit for the purpose, neither so soft that it would flop around, nor so hard that it would strangle the flow of urine and send it spraying. It was just the right level of rigidity for their purposes.

He felt the pleasant drain more as information than sensation, something that he was noticing was becoming more and more the case. The parasite and the Nest dealt with basic data rather than sensation, and to make him a better drone, they were encouraging the same sort of thought with him. The feelings of his body, the pleasure, the general intimate sensations that it felt, were distant unless appropriate, and that seemed to be the case for the immediate future, as well.

He wondered, briefly, if he would feel anything if he was made to rut or be rutted. The curiosity was stifled shortly after; it was not suitable to the Nest’s purposes.

Once the bottle was refilled with his urine, mixed properly with the cider until there was no visual difference, he corked the bottle again and set it on the nightstand. He glanced over his shoulder at the Nest, agreed with its measurements –

No. Second item on the list first. Cart.

The parasite barely needed to nudge him for that one. He was learning, and he was getting better.

It didn’t take long. Mr. Cumulus was always on the lookout for more bits, and passing over a few to rent one of the inn’s carts for the morning and afternoon was fine with him. Only cost the drone a couple bits, too, so it wasn’t like he lost much doing it. Not that it would have mattered if he did. This was for the Nest, after all.

He brought the half-shattered pot that the Nest rested in down the stairs. The early morning meant that there was nobody to watch the clumsy attempts to get it around corners or avoid cracking the pot further, which was all for the better, because it quickly became ridiculous. Even Mr. Cumulus arched an eyebrow as he went by, and the pegasus was usually quite a bit more circumspect about his customers than that.

But bits were bits, and business was business. The other stallion left him to his business.

Step three, replanting the Nest, took less time than he expected, and the rich soil just outside of the wagon lot was more than sufficient for his purposes. The bigger pot meant getting rid of a little more of his inventory in his wagon, but the continued existence of the Nest, and its comfort and viability, was the only important factor. Bits, income, all of that didn’t matter for the moment.

With that done, it was time to move on. It was time for Twilight Sparkle to become part of the Nest.

He half-expected the plant to plug into him as they walked through Ponyville, but either the Nest was hiding its identity from any morning walkers, or it was allowing the parasite within him to stay in control. Dapper-Bit didn’t know which it was, and in short order, he was convinced that it didn’t matter. Either way, he was of service to the Nest, and that meant that he was being a proper drone.

As he trotted through town, he was aware of the lack of many ponies on the street. The early hour was part of that, but he imagined that was the reason for their early departure. Getting to the library early would mean fewer ponies that might see what was happening between him and Twilight, less potential witnesses to the infestation and programming, and less likelihood that the Nest would be in danger. All good reasoning, and all done without his intervention. The Nest was growing, becoming more and more capable of making its own decisions, and that was all for the better; he was supposed to rely on it rather than the other way around.

It did not take long to reach the town library. Dapper-Bit looked up, feeling the parasite looking through his eyes, analyzing and storing away what he saw. The tree itself had once been – according to his older memories, back when he was younger – a tree that had stood in a small clearing in the middle of the town. It hadn’t been that large back then, little more than a little tree that offered the unicorn that lived there a home. It could have housed a few people, but not much more than that in addition to the small library.

Now, with the power of the alicorn princess that still lived there after her rise to Princess-hood, it had spread. The massive trunk of the tree had spread to take up the entirety of the clearing, and some of the houses that had once bordered it had been attached to the new, larger trunk. It soared over the center of Ponyville, creating a shaded, surprisingly comfortable sort of place, and he had come here many times to offer some of the rare things that he’d found on his trips to the librarian within. Considering that she got half her budget from Canterlot and the royal siblings, she often had plenty to spend.

Rapping a hoof against the front door, he heard the usual tumble from inside, followed by a familiar yelp, and then the tinkle-tinkle of magic catching a few things falling down. The instinctive smile was not allowed; the parasite was in full control, now, and it didn’t need to smile until –

Right then. As the door opened, he felt the parasite pull the corners of his mouth back and up, and just in time as Twilight poked her head around the door. Her glasses reflected him, and he saw no difference to his usual appearance. The parasite was imitating him perfectly.

“Hello?” Twilight called, her horn glowing as her glasses adjusted themselves. “Oh, Dapper-Bit! Hello! It’s been a while.”

“Indeed, indeed. I have a new specimen for you.”

“Oh, where – oh Celestia!”

The alicorn all but darted out of the library building, running in blurred circles around the cart as her eyes went wider and wider and her smile grew bigger and bigger. It would have been charming, but he was only vaguely aware of the smile that the parasite forced on his face. It knew that he would have indulged Twilight with that even if he hadn’t felt it himself, and so it waited, pushing down the impatience that it felt on behalf of the Nest to allow the alicorn her fascination.

“This is extraordinary! I’ve never seen anything like it. Even the changeling-plants were more like standard deviations of flora species, but this –” She shook her head. “Where did you find it?”

“Not that far outside of Dodge Junction; it was hiding in the shade.”

“It’s a desert flower? It’s huge.”

“I know, but that’s part of what makes it so interesting, right?”

“Oh, stars, yes.”

She was completely infatuated with the plant already. The parasite and the Nest had known from his memories that she would be, and Dapper-Bit felt a slight surge of pride at the knowledge that he had been helpful to the Nest. She had been completely enraptured by its strangeness, and now, they could move in for the kill.

“I wanted you to have the chance to see it before everything got busy,” he said. “Shall we go inside?”

“Oh, yes, yes. That’s a better idea. You just take the cart around, and I’ll float this right in. Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy.”

She was beyond excited, all but bouncing on her hoof-tips, and the parasite held that information in deep. There was a possibility that she would be too excited to see through any mistakes it made, but the parasite told itself – and him – that they should still be careful. The Nest was in the hooves of one of the most powerful alicorns in the land, according to Dapper-Bit’s own memories. It was best not to take too many chances while they were dealing with this.

They rolled the cart around to the other side of the tree before stepping inside. No sooner had they passed through the door than the lock came down, keeping it shut tight against any other clients of the library. Dapper-Bit had assumed that would happen – it always did when they had their early morning meetings, as Twilight didn’t like interruptions of her experiments and fascinations – and he nodded to himself as things went the same as they always did.

The parasite was content, too. It squeezed him as a reward, and he took the tingling data of pleasure as the satisfaction that it was meant to be.

They walked through the lines of bookshelves to find her again, eventually stumbling upon the purple-maned, lavender-furred mare in one of the open areas of the library. A table served as the Nest’s resting place, and she circled it with poofs and pops of teleportation spells, staring at the long tendrils that hung down from the Nest’s petals, whispering to herself constantly. There were bursts of notes and observations, some of which were written down on spare pieces of paper that flew through the air, but most of them were just lost to the echoes of the empty library.

Dapper-Bit’s smile was gone, but ready to come back at a moment’s notice if the parasite decided that it was needed. He walked around the table, carrying with him the bottle of urine-cider between his jaws. She didn’t even notice until he pulled a couple of cups out from under the table that he had even come back.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just – this is so – it’s so different. It doesn’t seem like a desert plant at all.”

“I was hoping that you could tell me what it was. Maybe tell me where I can sell it.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh? Is it that new?”

He popped the cork as the mare began her litany of just how strange and new the plant was. He barely heard her, focusing instead on the scent coming from the bottle. The parasite made him smell it as it came out, comparing it to the memories of what the cider was supposed to smell like.

It was a bit more sterile, if anything, with the more acrid scent of the added urine not making any real difference. They should be fine, the parasite decided.

He poured some for both of them. The parasite, Dapper-Bit was informed, was part of him. He could not be affected by the same fluids that came out of him, not when he was infested and the source of the chemicals in it to begin with. Even if another member of the Nest were to fuck him, he would not go all light-headed the way that the victims and potential hosts would. That was something reserved specifically for them.

As soon as the cups were poured, he nosed one across the table. Twilight took it with her magic without even thinking about it, shaking her head still as she stared at the half-hidden stalk of the great Nest.

“I can’t believe what I’m looking at. It just seems so…so…”

“So what?” he asked.

“Alien.”

There was a possibility there, and he wondered if it was true. It didn’t matter, of course, but he still wondered.

“Take a drink. Don’t want to get too worked up.”

“Mmm.”

Twilight nodded, though she barely tilted the side of her muzzle to her right at the cup approached. She sipped from it without taking her eyes off the Nest, continuing to circle it, hop up on the table, take close looks at everything.

But at the same time, she was drinking the drugged, spiked cider, and he and his parasite waited for the first sign of her weakening to it.

When Mrs. Cake had enjoyed the spiked wine the night before, she had shown her reaction almost instantly. That might have been from the older mare being completely unused to anything alcoholic, or perhaps the wine was stronger than the cider, or it might have been that seed carried more of the corruption and the drugged effects than urine. In either case, Twilight didn’t show any sign of heat, or lust, or anything distracted until she reached the bottom of her cup, and even then, it wasn’t as much as Mrs. Cake showed.

He poured her a second cup when she floated her cup back, and he carefully drank his own. The taste of the additive was muted, at most, and he doubted that anyone – even a pony that was interested in it – would have tasted that over the stronger flavor of the cider. It was unclear whether the taste had been muted due to the differences, or whether it was something that he just didn’t care about anymore, but either way, it wasn’t bothersome.

Twilight reached the halfway point of her second cup when she finally stopped darting around. Her face was reddened, and her tail flicked up for a moment, revealing just a hint of moisture around her sex. She flicked it back down a moment later, almost like she hadn’t realized that she was doing it, and looked back at him.

He was, of course, looking away, indulgently smiling. The parasite had memories that expression from memories of himself in the mirror, of the many hours that Dapper-Bit had taken to practice how he looked while trying to make a sale. It knew how to imitate him down to a T, and it was doing it perfectly.

“So? What do you think?” he asked.

“I think…I think…I need to learn…more. Do you know anything about – hic – about it? Excuse me, goodness.”

A little drunk, a little tipsy, and definitely a little aroused. The mare was going to be easier to manage now, they hoped.

“I did find out that it has a means of bio-communication,” he said, putting his mug down. “The long tendrils –”

“It what?!”

Without warning, Twilight was right in front of his face. He expected it, but the parasite almost didn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was running off a ‘program’ to imitate him, it might have lots its disguise in sheer shock at that moment. Twilight had their face between her front hooves, holding it still as she bumped her head against his.

“Are you telling me that this thing can talk and we’ve been wasting time looking at it?!”

“I mean – it’s not –”

“How?!”

“You – you just let it use the tendrils –”

“How!?”

“Just back up and let it work!”

She let go of him and did just that, grinning like crazy. She looked positively manic, like someone that had just been given their favorite toy that they’d been begging for off the shelf.

It was something that shocked the parasite, inasmuch as it could be. It had clearly been expecting to work harder to convince Twilight to do this, but in some ways, Dapper-Bit wasn’t that shocked. If there was one thing that the alicorn princess could be relied on for, it was curiosity. She had too much for her own good, and it meant that she was always getting herself – and others – into trouble.

The way that she backed up, she clearly expected the tendrils and the flower to come down over her head, almost like a helmet. The Nest loomed over her, the various bulbous tendrils rising, but rather than reaching for her head…well, it reached for the same place that it always did with him.

Twilight was shocked, jumping in place, but she didn’t run away. She blushed heavily, though, her cheeks burning like the sun, and she looked anywhere but at him. Dapper-Bit adjusted his top hat before climbing onto the table, standing in front of the alicorn as a pair of tendrils slithered inside of her, one in each orifice, working themselves deeper and deeper as they did.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Didn’t – mmph! – didn’t expect them to go…there.”

“Do you want me to –”

“N-no, just let them – oh – just let them go ahead…if this is…if this is how they…how it talks…”

That was what the parasite and the Nest had hoped for, and what Dapper-Bit had known would happen. Once turned on, she would accept even something like this in the name of science and examination. Twilight might have been the Princess of Friendship, but anyone that knew her knew that magic and knowledge were her great loves. Finding something out, even in this most undignified way, was something that she would pursue at whatever cost.

At least, at first.

They saw her eyes flick, blinking as they started to haze over, then stopped. Her horn glowed, flickered, then glowed again.

“Nnngh…”

“Is something wrong?” they asked.

“It’s…mmph…it’s doing something…”

“Well, yes, it’s –”

“Not that! Or…not just…not just – ah – not just that,” she said, her horn glowing a little bit brighter. “It’s…is this…is this how it…talked to…mmmph…mm…”

That was less good. She was supposed to be out of it, too horny to care about the fact that the Nest would be trying to get information out of her and commands into her. If the alicorn was conscious enough to actually fight back, Dapper-Bit’s memories were full of things that she could do to fight off infestation, and if that happened, the Nest could be burned. Or worse.

Stop her.

The command came with an image of its own. If urine wasn’t enough, then there were other things that were.

Just as Twilight started to push back with her magic, he was made to leap forward. Her head dropped as he put his hooves on her, and the parasite’s perfect control of his body made his cock leap from his sheath so quickly that it was hard and throbbing by the time her head came down. The tip pushed past her lips as she opened her mouth to shout, the head popped into her throat, and the parasite did what it did best: it controlled the situation.

There were no moans.

There were no sounds.

There was only the pulsing, throbbing, churning feeling in his sac as the parasite yanked enough semen up and through his prostate to do its job. The conversion rate was less than perfect, but he could feel Twilight stiffening up as soon as he shot the first few ropes of that tainted seed down her throat. Her horn dimmed, flickered, and went out, her face going as red as it was possible to go, and the smell of horny mare started dribbling down her thighs, covering the top of the table.

The Nest had sufficient tentacles to reach around her, one of them sliding up Dapper-Bit’s ass. The feeling of connection brought with it a sense of satisfaction, and the reward of acknowledgement.

He had done well.

Dapper-Bit did not bow, or blush, but he took some greater sense of relief from that. The fact that he was a good drone –

Shock.

Spasm.

Stillness.

The Nest controlled him, taking the matter out of the parasite’s control, and it held him and Twilight Sparkle in tandem. There was no link between the two of them, but the Nest received information from the both of them. It was a moment of testing.

Clench.

Squirt.

Dapper-Bit was made to orgasm, the pleasure something different. It took him a moment to realize the difference between what he felt when the parasite made him edge, ooze, and cum compared to what the Nest made him feel, and with his cock buried down a mare’s throat and his own hole being teased, nudged, rubbed by a thicker than usual intruder, that was difficult. Yet, he had little else to do as he was manipulated to feed Twilight more and more drugged fluids, and he was allowed, rather than dissuaded, to think about it.

Eventually, he realized that the Nest allowed him to feel pleasure, where the parasite only allowed him to be aware that it existed. It was still muted compared to the memories of the pleasure that he had when he was a non-drone, when he was ‘free,’ but that was still more than he expected. He thanked the Nest for the gift of the pleasure, and the Nest granted him a trifle more.

His orgasms were ramped up, pulled down, and ramped up again. The shocks of pleasure and information that flowed through him all stemmed from his back end, from his prostate and his cock. Dapper-Bit was not informed what it was for, but there were a few slow guesses rising in the drone’s head. With both of them connected, the Nest could test how much was needed to put Twilight out, how much was needed to merely discombobulate her, and how much was not enough to keep her magic low.

It was the perfect test situation, and he was honored to be part of it.

As Dapper-Bit was kept there, cock lodged down Twilight’s throat, he was almost surprised to feel her tonguing at his shaft. At first, he thought that it was the Nest rewarding him further, but no. The surprise-tingle that went up his spine showed that it was startled by the way that she was behaving, as well. This was not required of her, nor was it being forced upon her. This was her natural behavior.

The information was filed away. The Nest would use it later.

Just as they were getting ‘comfortable,’ however, the sound of a knock on the door echoed through the otherwise quiet library. Dapper-Bit was tapped for information, and Twilight stiffened, indicating that she’d been tapped for the same.

Dapper-Bit felt the Nest’s tentacle sliding from his hole, a few last-second commands jolting up his spine as the parasite took over once more. Given the Nest’s latest commands, it made him step off the table, softening his cock as they walked towards the front door. It was only when he had gone completely soft that the orders themselves finally popped into his mind properly:

Keep others away.

The stallion trotted through the library to the front door, adjusting his top hat and his vest in the process. When the earth pony opened the door, a small crowd of clients waiting for their turn in the library greeted him. They all looked confused at his appearance, and the parasite pulled his lips up into a forced smile once more.

“Sorry, but Ms. Sparkle is examining a rare item this morning. I’m afraid that the library is closed until evening, at least.”

“Oh, come on. I have an assignment today,” a young stallion complained. “Can’t we just –”

“Ms. Sparkle asked for the library to be emptied for everyone’s safety while she works,” he said. “I’m sorry, but that means everyone.”

“Ugh.”

“There are no exceptions?” one of the mares gathered outside asked. “None at all?”

“It’s something at least vaguely magical. She can handle it, but distractions aren’t a good idea right now.”

That seemed to settle it for the mare, and for the crowd as a whole. Some of them complained, admittedly, and they walked off with a few dirty glances back at him, but none of them gainsaid that. Considering the number of times that Twilight had saved Ponyville from its own stupidity as she’d grown up – and from her own – Dapper-Bit knew that it was something that they took seriously.

The smile dropped off his face instantly as soon as they weren’t looking at him, and he kicked the door shut behind him. The lock latched in place once more, and the parasite in his rump drove him back to the core of the library as fast as it could. Orders had been accomplished, and there was still a captive to take care of, a potential host to drain.

Thankfully, Twilight was still almost completely insensate with the various drugged compounds in her. Her mouth hung open, her eyes staring forward, and a hint of drool had collected at the edge of her mouth. Despite her obvious arousal, her dripping slick running along the vaginal tentacle, she didn’t push back any longer. She’d gone almost entirely still.

Dapper-Bit turned toward the Nest. His tail went up in response to the edited programming to his own parasite as he offered his rump, and one smaller tendril pressed close. It entered easily, and he stared straight ahead.

The information passed into him quickly, the transfer seemingly getting faster with each iteration of their connection. The parasite within him helped speed it up further still, of course, but that was secondary compared to the feeling of becoming more useful.

Image-concepts played out in his mind, showing things from the point of view of the mare beside him. She was nearly catatonic, out of her own head from the multiple doses of tainted seed that she’d taken in. Her resistance was down, and her body and mind were, for the moment, in the grip of the Nest.

More image-concepts followed, giving Dapper-Bit and his parasite the sense of time and scale that they were dealing with. The alicorn was powerful, more powerful than he was by a wide margin, and they would need time to completely program her mind and ensure that there was a sufficient copy of her memory for the Nest to deal with. By nightfall, they would have a copy of that and she would be at least partially programmed, but they would need to be careful, keep anyone that might be a threat out of the library, and – most importantly – keep Twilight drugged and catatonic. If she became sober again before the Nest was done, then the whole thing was as good as gone.

When he asked what he could do, the Nest had an answer for him. He pressed back as instructed, feeling the thicker tendril pressing further inside of him. There were new additions to the tip of the tendrils, he felt, little feelers, fronds that were more precise and more delicate than the blunt tip that he had been used to feeling up to that point. It pressed up –

“Mmph!”

And his awareness was shoved backwards. The Nest took control of him, putting the entirety of his mind to its own use. He could not think, see, hear, or anything; the Nest turned him into nothing more than an extension of its own thoughts and processes, and he was so far back that he couldn’t even see those. It was nothing more than shadows on a wall, remnants of a show on stage that he could not see.

Yet, even that offered him something. He saw pictures, hazy things, bits and pieces that showed the Nest spreading further and further. He saw it taking root beneath the tree, finding a hiding place among the roots of the library so that it could keep growing. He saw it growing, growing, and growing more, until it reached the point where it would displace the library tree and become the central feature of the town.

And all around it were other ponies…other hosts…other drones.

Dapper-Drone.

Dapper-Drone stiffened again, a surge of satisfaction and pleasure and electric joy surging through him at the new designation. As the sensation faded, so did his awareness of everything else. All that remained, outside of the knowledge that he was just an extension of the Nest’s capabilities, was the new designation.

Dapper-Drone.

It fit him, feeling right. He had been not-quite-himself for a while, the constant changes from the Nest and his parasite making him feel less and less like a stallion, more and more like an extension of the group. It had started to feel almost wrong to think of himself as a pony, for a pony was more free, more willful, whereas he was just…a thing. A piece that would be pushed around by something bigger, greater, better than himself.

That was what he was, then. Dapper-Drone. Not Dapper-Bit Twist, not Dapper-Bit, not even Dapper. Just…Dapper-Drone, a distinction that would set him apart from the other drones so that the Nest could call on him more easily.

It was good.

It was right.

It was proper.

The day passed mostly uneventfully, save for the occasional waking to spend his time at the door to discourage the different clients that wanted to use the library against the announcement he’d made, or the occasional interruption to feed Twilight more drugged seed. She never fought it that hard, mostly due to the fact that the Nest woke him whenever it detected her levels getting too low, and so the danger of an actual break-out was never more than minimal.

As the day went by, in his scattered moments of awareness, Dapper-Drone was aware of being content. Not happy, not anymore, but content. The fact that he could do as much for the Nest as he could, and the fact that he had earned a designation – so far as he knew, the first designation – made him feel as if he were valued by the Nest. Of course, the fact that he needed to be valued was probably a mark of how he had much more to do before he was a proper drone, but he was learning, and he was doing his best to dedicate himself to the Nest and the future that it offered.

In and out of being its extension, he felt like he was losing little bits and pieces of his sense of self. More and more, the parasite stuck out in his mind, taking more control when he was off the tendril and doing what he was told. His body was no longer his, he had accepted that, but there was something greater going on, something that seemed to put him further and further back. The parasite was getting more and more prominent, no longer just directing him and taking charge when it needed to, but keeping him more as a sort of back-up in his own head rather than allowing him to do anything.

But it was fine.

He was a drone.

Drones didn’t do things on their own.

The hours passed, and eventually, the Nest shifted again. It had grown by a full foot and a half, nearly at seven feet tall now, and its tentacles were broad and wide. It left Twilight Sparkle empty and gaping from both holes, and as it pulled away, making a soft ‘pop’ as it slid between her soaked vaginal lips and puffy pucker, she just…stood there, staring straight ahead, not saying anything, not moving, not nothing. There was no parasite, not yet, but with the hours of programming, she would be open to one when one was ready, and Dapper-Drone knew it would be ready soon.

He wondered, idly, what was going through her head, and knew that there would be no answer that wasn’t at least partially formed by the Nest. As it would eventually have over all things, the Nest had control of her.

Chapter 5

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As the creature’s tendrils popped loose from her, Twilight Sparkle struggled to stay on her hooves. She locked her knees as she stared straight ahead, her eyes hazed over, her mind struggling to do…well, anything. There was so much there, so much shoved into her skull over the course of the last few…

How long?

How long had she been there?

Long enough for there to be other voices in her head, other pressures, other things that made it impossible for her to think clearly on her own. Long enough for her body to still be in a perpetual state of aftershocks of orgasmic pleasure. Long enough for her to know that there was something besides her in charge of her own body now.

She almost blacked out, the alicorn’s mind struggling to work, almost having to do a sort of ‘reboot’ to be able to do anything at all. Her thoughts were running all over the place, going back over what had just happened.

The tentacles.

She focused on the tentacles first, remembering the feeling of shock that had come when they’d just rammed inside of her. It wasn’t the first time that the seemingly-innocent librarian had done something pervy, though it had been the first time that someone else had watched it happen to her. She’d summoned enough little ‘helpers’ over the years – and there had been that one time with a Changeling egg – that she had been quite experienced in the matter of something being more ‘intimate’ than one might have initially expected. It had been worth seeing if the plant had something to say, but…

But…

Her brain skipped a beat as it continued the process of trying to turn itself on again, and she groaned as she stumbled forward. Some bits of herself pushed forward, enough to realize that she had…

Had…

Click. There was the shift again, and she leaned her side against the nearest aisle of books. Her legs were no longer moving, something pulling her to a stop. The programming.

Yes. That was it.

She was finally ‘thinking’ clear enough to know what was going on. The constant shocks, the regular blasts of pleasure and information and electricity up her back had been telling her what to do. The first bit, having it all go down her spine, had been information leaving her mind. Twilight remembered the hyper-focus on memory after memory, how it had been dragged up to the surface, and figured that was the plant –

The Nest.

The Nest collecting everything that she had in her mind for its own personal use. Whatever that would turn out to be, it had it now, and there was no getting it back without cutting it free.

No, that wasn’t right. She still had it. It was just copied. Copied and –

She watched as Dapper-Bit Twist backed up, his tail rising again as the Nest called him with some unseen signal. She had a split-second glance at his rim, stretching almost as if in anticipation for the tendril, before he stiffened just as she’d done while she had been connected to the plant.

What was happening to him, she wondered? Was he getting orders, such as had been slammed into her brain? Was he getting information? Copies of her memories, perhaps, or at least pieces of them that might be useful? Whatever it was, it would be driving him up the wall, she was sure; there was a lot to be transferred.

She wondered, briefly, why she wasn’t running. The answer, of course, had to be the Nest.

She was programmed. She could feel it, feel the layer of other thoughts that went over and under her own, caging and channeling them in the way that the Nest wanted them to go. There was no way to free them; her mind had been utterly re-written. Like a river whose path had been altered by dedicated diggers, her thoughts had been given entirely new channels to follow, and no matter how she might complain or fight it, the thoughts would go where they willed from now on.

Where the Nest willed.

Twilight Sparkle couldn’t even pant or gasp in shock at the realization of her sharp mind being turned to other purposes that way. Her body, her own mortal shell, had been completely reprogrammed. The most that she could do was think about thinking for herself, and even that was limited. Awareness did not apply to using logic to puzzle things out, and that, in turn –

Nnngh. It didn’t feel good.

As she was forced to just lean and breathe, watching as the process continued with Dapper-Bit, she realized that she didn’t even feel angry. The programming had taken that away from her, too, leaving her with no emotions about the forced turn. No embarrassment about her throat being raped, nor the feeling of shame that would have come with being tentacle-fucked in front of someone else. As a matter of fact, emotions in general were rather far away, sealed behind a number of doors.

It was…oddly interesting, in its own fashion, and she wondered if she was fascinated of her own accord, or if the programming forced her to be.

She couldn’t even shake her head, nor did she want to shortly after realizing that she could not. The constant repetition of the same pattern – becoming aware of a restriction, trying to fight the restriction, failing, and then no longer minding – was becoming all too familiar, and she didn’t know where it would end.

As Dapper-Bit continued his download, the rest of the programming started to surface, coming up through the haze of her mental reboot. Commands in addition to the lack of resistance were coming to the fore, pushing into her awareness.

Find a place for the Nest to rest.

Bring tools for moving the Nest to new location.

Move the Nest.

Secure the Nest.

Be implanted.

She was already acting on that before she was aware of it, her body moving, her magic activating. The purple glow down her horn was slightly sickly this time, unpracticed compared to her usual proficiency, but all the power was still there. She focused her magic on the various carts and heavy movers throughout the library, seeking the one that she needed.

The basement was the only logical place for the Nest. It didn’t seem to need the sun, as far as she could tell, and it didn’t tell her of any light requirements while she was looking at it. If anything, it seemed to prefer dimmer places, despite being a desert flower. It would be safe enough in the basement.

And for that, she needed big tools. It was barely sufficiently planted as it was; there was no way that she would risk carrying it with her magic, nor was she allowed; the commands required her to bring moving tools here. Nevermind that her magic would have been sufficient to teleport the plant where it needed to go. It had commanded her to move it with normal tools, and that would be what she used.

Flicker.

Pulse.

Whoosh.

A moving cart appeared beside the table, but she could not move forward to step three just yet. The Nest was still communing with Dapper-Bit, which meant that it could not be moved just yet. The conflict between the two different commands – to wait for the communication between plant and drone-host-whatever and the order to move it to the new place – caused some discomfort in the back of her head, but she had no right to say anything. No ability. Nothing.

Programming caused problems. She could barely think straight, and with the queue of orders waiting to be fulfilled, being unable to do anything about them was agonizing. It caused no physical pain, but it left her mind jarred, unable to entirely finish a process, and it wanted to move on rather than staying stuck.

Finally, Dapper-Bit stepped forward. He looked at her –

“Help me move it,” she said.

“You have –”

“Help me move it. Help me move it.”

She was in a loop, and the awareness of the loop, the frustration of being unable to break out of it, and the acceptance that she could not and that it didn’t matter, all happened once more. Twilight was starting to hate that process, and then, that was taken from her, too.

After all, the process was of the Nest, and one could not be allowed to hate the Nest.

Dapper-Bit did what he was told, helping her lower the plant to the cart. He cocked his head to the side as she started pushing it, trying to offer help. She would have accepted, but the orders in her head gave her no flexibility for that, no option to actually accept it rather than fulfill the order to do it on her own.

She felt stupid.

She felt idiotic.

She hated it.

“You are hosting anything?”

“No,” Twilight said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

There was so much more that she wanted to say, so many theories that she normally would have proposed, but the programming took up so much space in her brain. It was forcing her to keep moving, to follow the orders, to get things done. She didn’t have a choice in how to do them; everything had been brute-forced into her skull, rammed in so fast and so deep that there was so little of her left, and every time that she was forced to acknowledge that things that she wanted were impossible, but that wasn’t really so bad, it only got worse.

The alicorn wanted to scream.

She couldn’t scream.

Well, maybe she didn’t want to scream, anyway.

And so it went.

Twilight was becoming more and more aware of her own limitations as they walked along, feeling less and less herself as they reached the basement door. The stairs had long-since been replaced with a ramp for the purposes of carrying things down to it, so the cart didn’t need to be left behind. The Nest voiced no complaints as it entered shadow, nor did the tendrils reach out to stop her or make Dapper-Bit do the same. Her thoughts, earlier, of the Nest being fine in the dark seemed to be accurate.

As she descended, she was more and more aware of how her personality, her desires, and everything else were completely subsumed within the programming. It had been wrapped so tightly around her mind, so firmly around her core, that she had nothing that didn’t involve the Nest in her head any longer. The desire to read only fed the desire to know more about how to help the Nest. The urge to use her magic was only there inasmuch as it would help the Nest to be better, more powerful. The want to know more about the Nest itself would only serve to break the boundaries that life had placed on the Nest, and give it a way forward.

But even those expanded desires were nothing, nothing, against the programming to do her current job. The most that they could claim was the possibility of being added to the queue later, and imagining what her life would be past the queue was almost impossible. The demands that the programming on her mind exerted required that she think of the queue, and ‘daydreaming’ of something beyond it wasn’t allowed.

She pushed the cart down, down, down, and soon, they were in the basement, surrounded by shadow, old books, and the roots of the library tree. Her horn glowed, giving them a little light to see by, and she stopped the cart at the edge of the biggest root.

“Here?” Dapper-Bit asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it will grow.”

The root here was almost dead, long-since damaged by an old fight with some of the villains that used to plague Ponyville. There would be no competition with the bigger tree down here, nothing that it would have to do to keep itself fed. It could even choke out the other, healthier roots of the tree from this point, if the Nest was so inclined.

There was no guilt at the idea of killing her long-time home for the sake of the Nest. It demanded much, and she would deliver.

Twilight and Dapper-Bit carried the pot off the cart, then dropped it. The shattering clay went all over the place, but freed the roots of the Nest. They were massive, thick things, and as they writhed, she saw that some of them were hollow, open at the ends, and she wondered – then didn’t wonder – then forgot her wondering – what they were for.

As the Nest started slotting itself into the dirt, she felt the different commands fading slightly. She knew that she had to be infested soon, but didn’t know how that was supposed to happen. The commands, the obedience, they were rolling over each other, bashing against one another in conflicted fashion, and she groaned under her breath in frustration as she realized just how inefficient the whole system was, and how much she could have done to revise it if she was allowed.

But she wasn’t.

She was only a drone, after all, and drones followed their prescribed orders. If the programming had been a bit looser, less restraining, or if there had been something else to allow various translations of the rules and requirements that governed her life, perhaps she would have felt better, but –

But –

Twilight felt that complaint getting squashed, too. The whole thing left her feeling stupid, lost, inadequate, and then the feelings were pulled away, too, leaving her feeling, more than anything, empty.

Dapper-Bit turned to her again. His face was different now, far different compared to the many memories that she had of him as an occasional business partner. Rather than the sly or grinning expressions that she had become used to, he was the picture of neutrality, completely blank of any feeling at all. He looked at her, then at the plant, then back at her.

“Are you…planning…anything?”

His speech was stilted, as if he was coming up with things as he went rather than having any idea of what he wanted to say. She shook her head.

“No. No plans. Yet.”

“The Nest…”

“It must be protected.”

“I know. But there are so many Hosts.”

Hosts. The idea of having them there, of other ponies seeing the Nest and learning their place, should have been horrifying. Once, it would have been, but the programming had already changed that part of her. Instead of fear, there was joy. Instead of hate, there was eagerness. She wanted to see it happen, needed to see it happen, and her thoughts wanted to go down those carved-out channels in her brain to figure out how to make it happen.

But they couldn’t, because she hadn’t finished her other orders yet. The frustration-no frustration-acceptance cycle repeated again.

“You are…different. Not like me.”

“I am not infested,” Twilight said.

“…This is…slow.”

“Painfully.”

“I feel…”

“Stupid.”

“Wrong.”

“Incomplete.”

They both nodded. It was not empathy, but it was a related sensation, a ‘comfort’ that they understood the wrongness of the ‘slow’ life that they were both exposed to. Twilight had always been quick, possessed of a brilliant mind and a genius intellect when it came to magic, theory, and anything that required logic and slowly thinking something out. Now that she had been exposed to the Nest, however, with its vast mind and its ability to think through so much at once – and not just think, but process and communicate those thoughts – she felt as dull as a block of clay compared to that. She felt not just stupid, but idiotic.

This time, the frustration of her own incapableness fading away was more welcome. Vaguely, but it was.

The Nest finally finished rooting itself in place, and the infested stallion and the programmed mare were dragged a little closer to it by her instincts. The programming told her to turn around and lift her tail, and she did, her juices already flowing as the programming rammed her arousal centers as hard as possible. Her juices started flowing before her purple tail was halfway up, and by the time that it was curled up and off to the side, her vaginal juices were streaming down her hind legs, running down to her hooves.

The tendrils returned. They were not gentle like a lover might have been, but rather, quick and to the point. One rammed into her sex, curling to rub over her clit, wiggling deep into her womb. The other jammed into her ass, and it was the one that held her attention.

Shock.

Spasm.

Tighten.

In a micro-second, she was completely attentive again, hooked up to the Nest. Its thoughts traveled up her mind, going to her core, feeling her out. It had already downloaded most of her memories, most of the things that made her Twilight Sparkle, but it was doing something else, this time. It reached…deeper, almost down to the core of her, where the things that were not thought, but rather just done, were located. The place where subconscious breathing was managed, the place where the heartbeat was kept, the place where her body’s breeding abilities were locked away.

That last one was opened, different pieces of information pulled out and examined. She could feel those sliding out of her, and for the briefest flashes, she had understandings of her own body that she had never realized. The connections of estrus and the need to breed were obvious, of course, but the specific ways that her body managed it without ever being instructed were fascinating. If she had been herself, the number of notes that she’d have been taking at that moment would have shocked most.

But she was not herself, and so she did not. She did nothing but let the Nest take the information, and wonder what the information was for. Surely, it did not need other ponies to reproduce, if it was creating parasites to shove in others.

It was a question for another time. More downloading was done, and then, an upload. This time, it was not a command, but a memory, information that was seen from a different point of view. Dapper-Bit’s point of view, as a matter of fact.

She saw through his eyes.

She viewed his efforts at the Gilded Saddle.

She saw Mrs. Cake getting drugged, and saw the near-instant effect that it had.

She saw everything that he had done since coming in, and she realized that the Nest was putting a problem to her to solve. It could not create hosts without drugging them, but the constant public nature of the entire town meant that it could not easily create a situation where it would freely be able to convert and infest them.

The Nest wanted her to solve it. She felt…proud, inasmuch as she still could through the layers of programming. It was a far cry from the feelings she remembered from when she was dealing with professors and teachers and others that had told her that she had done well, but it was a shadow of a shadow of a thing.

If it wanted her to think, then Twilight Sparkle would think.

She put her mind to it, and with the connection to the Nest channeling her thoughts away from the impossible – of going to the Mayor and declaring an opening for new types of ponies, or of reaching out for the remnants of the Changelings, or of making contact with the dragons and taking them rather than ponies, as many of them lived in solitary lives – she reached a proper solution.

It rolled out of her brain as a concept-image, just like she had been given. She had learned what the Nest used, and she passed it back in kind. She sent it an image loaded with context, of her setting up an experiment that could be sold as a means for younger adults to make money now that the apple-bucking season was more or less over, or means for the older ponies to come down and supplement some of their retirement money with something easy. She had done it a number of times with other magical experiments, and the town was used to it being weird and different, something that nobody talked about.

The Nest paused, then gave her a flash of approval. It felt the idea was sound.

It was a different sense of appreciation than the shadow of pride that had come through a moment ago, but no less wonderful. If anything, it was more wonderful, because it came from the Nest rather than herself. A drone-creature could not, should not feel the same sense of pride as someone ‘normal.’ They were subordinate and they only did what they were told. If the Nest approved of her, however, then it was right that she felt honored.

She did not smile, but the glow remained as the tentacles started pulling back. The one in her sex slid out first, leaving a string of feminine slime dangling from her vaginal lips, but the other stayed just barely inside of her. The connection remained to the Nest, and she felt something else.

Prepare for Infestation.

Twilight nodded, raising her tail that much higher. Having an audience for this was no longer embarrassing; they were both members of the Nest, and to have someone else witnessing her proper finishing touches was nothing worse than having someone watch her graduate from her school. This was right. This was proper. This was allowed.

The tendril finally came free, leaving her with a feeling of being spread wide open. It rested against the ground as a root broke out of the plant, pushing up against her. The thicker thing spread her wider than the tentacle had, and as she waited, she could hear something traveling up. The crick-crack of the root spreading, expanding, and the flow of fluid rushing into her rump made her sure that she was about to be infested, and fear – banished from her mind through the extensive programming – had no place for her. Instead, she felt…not even excited, just…ready.

Ready for her new life.

Ready to stop being stupid.

Ready to be more like Dapper.

Ready to be…whatever the Nest needed her to be.

So, when the bulge finally reached her hole, she didn’t fight. She didn’t moan. She didn’t do anything but hold herself as open as possible. The weight of the parasite pushed past her rim, and then fell into her, its own size sending it further in than she expected. There was a rolling feeling along her anal walls as it slid further in, sliding towards her gut for a moment before hooking itself into her inner flesh. It wasn’t biting, but she could feel something stroking, hooking, sliding into her skin in there, anchoring it.

An odd sensation, but not unwelcome.

Twilight breathed evenly as it connected with her, giving her a similar, if weaker, feeling of having it connect to her mind. It spread through her spine, little shocks running through her, before going down further. There was a clench, a tension, and then, a very strange feeling of being aware of her own bladder in a way that she had never been before. The tendrils running through her piping went somewhere else, grasping around, and then further down, running just over her clit.

For a split second, micro-thin tendrils forced her urethra open, flicking back and forth along her clit. Her sex twitched, clenching at the sensation, even if the rest of her showed no reaction. She felt a hint of confusion from her parasite, only for it to try and adjust to the new body.

New body.

It was meant for a male, she realized under everything else. She almost thought at the parasite, stopped, and then turned it into an invitation, an open-mind, offering the parasite a chance to look in at a thought bubbling to the surface. A complete mental diagram of feminine anatomy was held in her mind, contrasted against the secondary chart of male anatomy that this one was probably used to.

The tingling along her spine told her that the parasite had taken it, and she hoped that it would find it useful.

The tendrils slid back inside of her, but the awareness of her bladder didn’t fade. The parasite moved her legs, and she shifted from side to side. The rolling feeling of her own urine inside of her washed over Twilight’s senses, and the parasite made a simple decision that the mare never would have done on her own.

There was no ‘pardon me.’ There was no ‘one moment.’ There was nothing but the simple movement of walking across the basement to the drain off to the side and squatting down. Dapper-Bit – no, Dapper-Drone, as the parasite told her, as she was Twilight-Drone – didn’t stare at her. He merely marked her movement, then nodded in understanding. Didn’t look away, either.

As she lowered her hips ever so slightly, her urine began to flow. Fast, faster, fastest, draining away to relieve the discomfort that the programming had ignored and her own mind had been blinded to. The lack of orders to take care of that had begun to mess with her biological requirements, and now, it was being taken care of. The parasite forced it out, flexing its control over her body to make the muscles down there wring out everything that remained in her bladder, holding her tubing open so that it sloshed out and down the drain without a concern for modesty or shame, neither of which seemed to exist any longer for her.

The only thing that it did note was the sheer force of it and the physical relief that should have been there. It had been too long, and it was a reminder that hosts needed time to be taken for relief from time to time. Their biology demanded it, and limited them, and the Nest would need to be informed.

Casually as if she had just taken a drink from a stream, Twilight-Drone pulled her hips back up. The last droplet fell to the drain, leaving her completely free of the weight that had been pulling at her. The parasite ran through her body, almost scanning her with its senses, as if trying to find anything else that needed seeing to.

Twilight-Drone was impressed. It was far more efficient about looking her over than the Nest had been, but then again, the Nest had been more focused on ensuring that she would obey, that she would not fight, that she would be useful. The parasite? It was something else, more focused on ensuring the viability of the host so long as there was no danger involved to the Nest as a result of caring for said host.

It would be interesting balancing that. There were only two of them.

The parasite flexed again, and Twilight-Drone flicked her tail up, turning her rump back towards the Nest. Dapper-Drone was doing the same, and the pair of them backed up toward it. They could not glance towards one another, but she imagined that they were both thinking the same thing. The Nest had need of them, and they would fulfill the need.

As soon as they were close, they were both invaded, and this time, she was only filled anally. Just as when the Nest had demanded that she form an answer to the question that it posed to her, she felt it push questions at her again, but this time, it was guiding her. There was…there was a connection, as if she were both in her head and in the Nest itself at the same time. She could feel the information that the Nest had taken from her, the near-clone of her personality and sense of self, and beside it, she could feel something else.

It had to be Dapper-Bit, rather than Dapper-Drone. Just like the one that had been her was Twilight Sparkle, and she was Twilight-Drone.

The memories, the copies, were held close together within the Nest, not quite mingling, but near enough that both of their memories could be touched at once. The information slotted between them, passing into her head and through Dapper-Drone’s, and as they both processed the information, given free access to the lives of two ponies at once, that processing was harnessed by the Nest itself.

Twilight was along for the ride, and she could feel the raw power of the Nest’s mind. It did not lack brains, nor intelligence, but merely experience, information. Its ability to process and decide and logic through so many different situations was more than Twilight had seen from any other pony, past even her own, though she could at least understand where it went. She could not have done what it did, but she could follow it, see where it went, how it arrived at its various conclusions, and she admired the plant for what it did.

It was making plans, alright, using her brain and Dapper-Drone’s for extra speed and power. It used their memories and experiences to make up for the lack of its own. Whatever they had been, it had access to, and it continued to build from there.

From her, it took the idea of the experiment, and found the problems. The possibility someone could run off. The possibility of discovery. The lack of funding to explain it. Complaining individuals wanting compensation.

From Dapper, it found solutions. It found Mr. Westin Regalis, a wealthy pegasus. It found advertising knowledge. It found money.

And it found problems there. How to get Mr. Westin Regalis. How to ensure that he was safe. How to make sure that he didn’t screw them over.

And from her, it found more solutions. To bring him here. To use her and Dapper in shifts to boost the Nest’s power to convert him quickly.

Back and forth, back and forth they went, creating and refining a plan. Twilight-Drone could feel her skull heating up from the process, but with the extra presence of Dapper-Drone to take some of it off her when it was getting too much, Twilight-Drone managed to make it work. It could hurt her over time, she was sure, but as long as she got breaks, it would work out just fine.

And the pleasure…

There was certainly pleasure there, pleasure that she had been able to ignore while she was standing, while she was infested, but now, she was allowed it. It burned through the barriers that the Nest and the parasite had been keeping up, leaving her hot and wet, her fluids running down her legs and pooling beneath her hooves. She was a horny mess, unable to do anything about it save to suffer it as her libido and her pleasure were cranked up, completely mentally, with each passing second.

She would cum, soon. She would cum and it would splatter over the floor and it wouldn’t matter. The pleasure would climb and it would happen again, and again, and again as the Nest planned for the future, and this…

This would be her reward.

This would be what she asked for.

Because this…this reminded her…of one thing that she still missed from her pre-Drone life.

Chapter 6

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The next day dawned with a mix of hunger, focus, and a great deal of determination on the part of the Nest to get things done. That determination was filtered down to the drones via their parasites, and from there, they were given their jobs for the day.

Twilight-Drone was sent to the mayor’s office with the plan to organize some experiments, get the right to advertise for the different subjects that they’d need for it, and make sure that the paperwork and permits were properly handed in. The last thing that they needed was for the mayor to come investigating because someone hadn’t crossed all their t’s and dotted all their i’s.

Dapper-Drone, on the other hand, had to take up the rest of the work. The fact was, they were short on finances. He would be able to bring in some greater bits with all the stuff that he had on his wagon, but for the moment, the most that they could afford was a down-payment on the permits and everything else. Twilight-Drone was confident that they would be able to bargain the mayor down to allow for the start of the experiments, at the very least, but the Nest wanted everything backed-up. It kept their minds copied inside itself for a reason, and that same caution extended towards ensuring that everything else was properly backed up.

Dapper-Drone’s memories had been tapped, and those tapped memories had brought up a name: Westin Regalis, a rich pegasus from Cloudsdale that had come down from the heights to work his ‘magic’ with various investments among the earth ponies. More than once, he’d been convinced to put his money to work with Dapper-Drone’s various ventures, and he had always had plenty of bits to throw around. As a wealthy heir to one of the greater families up there, he could tap more bits than the average pony outside of Canterlot or Manehattan ever could.

The Nest wanted him, and what the Nest wanted, it would have.

As he walked back to the Gilded Saddle, dragging the rented cart behind him, Dapper-Drone was in and out of consciousness. The constant barrage of programming for the parasite and the use of his mind as a secondary booster to the constant thoughts of the Nest had scrambled him to some extent, and the parasite, thus empowered, was the one that ran everything. He felt almost like he was asleep, half the time, even when he was walking through the streets, pulled forward only when there was a social situation that benefited from him being more conscious than out of the way.

It was strange, almost like…like he was secondary to the parasite, now. His presence had been managed, before, but now, it was almost like he was not entirely needed, like his shell was all that the Nest had ever required. It was…odd.

Not odd enough to keep him ‘awake,’ of course, as he was completely lost to the control of the parasite and he was happy enough that things were being taken care of, but odd enough for him to notice. He only thought of it when he was pulled forward and things were different, but that was often enough.

Like now.

The last that he had been aware of the world, they’d been leaving the library tree, with Twilight-Drone hitching him to the cart and sending him off. Dapper-Drone had been focused on the other ponies waiting for their chance to enter the library, only for the concern about being forced to talk to them to be unfounded. After a day without the library, the other ponies had been more interested in getting back to the books.

Time faded. He was outside the Gilded Saddle, and there was no awareness of the time that had passed between leaving the library and arriving here. The disorientation was handled by the parasite, requiring him only to stare through his own eyes at the pegasus in the bar part of the inn.

Confirmation?

The parasite had his memories, it knew what he knew, but there was still the slight awkwardness in social situations. It was learning, still figuring things out, and that meant that it still needed him. For now.

What would happen when the Nest had perfected the parasites, he wondered? Would the hosts be allowed to be aware of anything that happened around them, or would they merely be kept in the back of their own heads, trapped there just for the worst-case scenario? Just how far did the Nest plan to take things with the various ponies that it managed to pull under its umbrella?

The question went without answer. He was not asked for his opinions. He wasn’t there to think. He was there to be a drone, and a drone he would be.

Confirmed, he thought back.

There was no mistaking Westin Regalis for any other pegasus. The stallion had deep red wings, so large and broad that they looked utterly cumbersome even for someone of his bulk, but he managed them well enough. White hairs ran down his flanks and sides, and his mane and tail were the same deep red as his wings. Rather than dressing for flight, he dressed for style, with his mane braided and off to one side, and his chest and neck covered with a fine coat that bespoke to his origins.

He dripped with the image of money, and he knew it.

The parasite took control again, though Dapper-Drone was allowed to stay in the forefront. They unhitched themselves from the cart, stepping into the inn. Mr. Cumulus noticed them immediately.

“Ah, bringing the cart back?” the other pegasus asked. “That’s another day’s rent.”

“I know, I know.” He walked up to the counter and put a couple of bits down. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

“Long as you pay.”

The bits disappeared almost instantly, and the earth stallion turned back to his occasional benefactor. The white-red pegasus smiled as their eyes met, nodding his head in invitation. Dapper-Drone took it, trotting over to the table and getting comfortable.

“Been a little while,” Westin said.

“Some weeks, yes.”

“Been trading well?”

“Profitable enough, I suppose. It’s been a while since I saw you; been investing elsewhere?”

“Oh, chasing down interesting tales, seeing what sort of excitement I can dredge up.”

“Found any?”

“A couple of fine pieces of tail, but that’s as far as it’s gone.”

Dapper-Drone’s parasite pulled his lips back into a small smile, wry and knowing. Yes, Westin was not above using his bits to get under the tails of other ponies. Mostly males, it must be said, but there were some mares that held his attention, too. Fewer, of course, and most of them rather strange and depraved to begin with, but that was what the other stallion really wanted: something different, strange, and new.

As Westin waved to the bar, calling for a drink for his good friend, Dapper-Drone reached around to his flank. His saddlebags were still around him, and he knew that there’d be no greater opportunity than this for getting Westin prepped for the Nest. The rich pegasus blinked as he laid a vial on the table.

“What is this?” the other stallion asked.

“Just a little thing that I picked up on my travels.”

“Hmm, and what might that be, eh?”

“Let’s just say that you don’t want to be caught with that in Canterlot.”

“Mmm, contraband? You naughty stallion.”

“I do what I need to for a profit.”

“I’ll reward you handsomely if this is any good.”

It would be. The Nest had milked him and Twilight-Drone both extensively throughout the night, pushing them to the edge of their bodies’ endurance to make sure that they would have plenty of altered fluids for the purposes of drugging potential hosts. Some of it had been drained urine, as that was useful enough for a weaker purpose, but for a proper drugging, seed and vaginal slime had been all but required.

His was watered down, of course; there was little point in giving another stallion raw seed, as they would detect it almost immediately, but with a few cocktails that Twilight had in her library and lab – who knew that the mare had such an assortment of chemicals and alcohol? – they had managed to put together something that would pass muster. Hopefully.

As Mr. Cumulus brought them a bottle of clear fluid – one of the better bottles of the libations that they had off to the west, flavored with the juices of the cactus as well as standard booze – Westin rolled the vial between one hoof and the other. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at the liquid inside.

“So, just how much is this going to affect me?” he asked.

“Fairly hard.”

“Enough to need a room?”

“Oh, I can take care of that,” Dapper-Drone said.

“I would expect you to.”

“I know your ‘expectations.’”

“Relax. I’ve already drained those. I won’t need that again. At least, not until tomorrow, ha.”

He uncorked the vial. It was clear from the lack of reaction in the inn that he had done this at least a few times without Dapper-Drone being present, and Dapper-Drone honestly wasn’t surprised. The pegasus’s money and reputation meant that he could do a great deal more than the average stallion and get away with it, and that meant that he generally did. He just enjoyed himself in the process.

As he added the vial to a glass of the booze, Dapper-Drone’s parasite was already making plans. It shouldn’t take more than a few cups to get the pegasus completely hammered, and when he was, they could gradually drag him back to the library. Once there, they could begin the process of converting him, and all those bits would be able to further the plans of the Nest, taking them further towards their goals.

The parasite was pushing it further and further, thinking of the future, and Dapper-Drone could feel the frayed nature of the parasite’s thoughts and plans as it tried to look past the immediate moment. Everything more than a few days out started to fade in the parasite’s vision, and the thought-concepts that were coming up his spine, most of them done almost without intention, showed him a vision that didn’t really encapsulate the far future. There were wishes and whims, of a sort, but they weren’t the sort that a pony would ever really think of. No dreams, no aspirations, just a vague idea of the future being completely ruled by the Nest.

And even there, there was no idea what the future would actually be like. Just…the Nest. The Nest, in charge of everything, taking care of everything, ordering everything around and ensuring that things got done.

Dapper-Drone no longer even knew what that meant. He wondered – then he didn’t wonder.

No need for that.

No need for any of that.

“So, Dapper-Bit. Anything you’re looking for?” Westin asked.

“Hmm?”

Focus. Yes. They couldn’t take their thoughts off the moment. They had to focus on him, rather than fantasies of other times.

“Heh, you don’t usually come looking for me unless you want money, Dapper-Bit. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you are like.”

“Ah, well, you caught me.”

“Splendid. You’ve never failed me yet. And you bring a bribe. Oh, you know me so well.”

The parasite made him nod, even though it was just going along with this. Dapper-Drone could feel it tapping him, pulling at his memories, rapidly sorting through what it needed to know to be believable while still just playing for time.

After all, they didn’t have a real business plan. They were hoping to move him to the tree and have the Nest take care of that as soon as possible, but if they were going to be at the table –

“So, what are you going for this time, dear Dapper?” Westin asked.

“Well…there’s an experiment going on with Twilight Sparkle, one that I’m looking to sponsor myself,” Dapper-Drone said, still trying to sort himself out.

“Mm, investing now? I didn’t think that you had the funds for that.”

“Not nearly as much as I would like; just getting the permits nearly has me wiped out.”

“Ah, so you’re coming to me for the actual advertising and such?” Westin chuckled. “Oh, silly Dapper.”

The pegasus chuckled as he shook his head, tossing his head back and taking the first mouthful of the tainted drink. The parasite was eager, he could feel that, but there was no immediate sign.

Of course there wouldn’t be. He knew Westin, and he knew that the stallion was more than a little bit of a party animal. He had gone through so many different substances and drinks over the course of his life that it would take a miracle to knock him out with just one sip. He’d need a good bit more than that to overcome his natural resistance to the drugged seed in his booze.

Keep talking…keep talking…

“Silly, perhaps, but I know a profit when I see one.”

“And that, good stallion, is why I keep investing in you.”

“So, invest in me again.”

“Patience, patience. Sell me on it, man, come on. You know how this goes.”

Dapper-Drone did, and the parasite, hooked into his memories directly at this point and sucking on every hint that it could get, was starting to get the picture. The long memories of drinking with the pegasus over an inn table, working through idea after idea, spinning tale after tale of what they could do with Dapper’s business acumen and the pegasus’s money and trust, were some of the better ones. Drunk and more than slightly hazy with time and alcohol and the subsequent hangover, yes, but they were good, happy, better times.

There was a small piece of the subdued stallion that almost missed those. The push for that success almost seemed worth the uncertainty, sometimes.

But that was gone, replaced with the certainty that the Nest provided. He was told that it was better, and he agreed.

“We’re going to be spreading some new substances to the different ponies that sign up for the tests.”

“Clinical trials? Goodness, that sounds like something better suited to Manehattan,” Westin said.

“Well, yes, and no.”

“Hmm?”

“They’re going to be registered as medicinal, but…”

“…Oh, ho ho, you sly stallion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re going to be drugging half the town, aren’t you? Oh, that naughty little Sparkle girl. And here I thought she was nothing but a bookworm.”

She was, but the two were, apparently, not incompatible. Then again, Dapper-Drone supposed that it was entirely reasonable that someone that spent most of their life covered with books would need some sort of distraction or a way to relieve stress. Drugs seemed as good a way to do it as any.

They had hooked the other male, though, and he grinned as he downed the first glass. The first hint of red sprouted in his cheeks, and he poured himself another glass.

“Tell me more about this ‘substance.’ I’m very curious now…”

Dapper-Drone nodded, and he was pulled a little further forward, back to his own skull. After all, the parasite needed everything that it could get to weave a believable story for the other pony, and that meant keeping him forward rather than buried. For a time, at least, he would be useful.

Two hours passed, then another as the drink finally seemed to be taking effect. Westin took his time sipping through glass after glass, and only the stuff that he added with a second, then a third vial seemed to actually affect the other stallion. At one point, he ‘dropped’ beneath the table, his cock throbbing in plain view, but nobody really commented, and Dapper-Drone did the same thing that he always did, letting it go by without comment.

Finally, after three hours of wining the pegasus, Westin finally gave in. He slumped forward, giggling, and the blue-black stallion nudged the glass that he’d been drinking from out of the way. He waved Mr. Cumulus over, and the other pegasus gathered the bottle and the glass.

“I was wondering if he’d ever finish,” the innkeeper said.

“He’ll be done for a while.”

“You’re taking responsibility?”

“I have a place for him.”

“Good. I don’t need him going loopy here.”

“Money’s not so good anymore?” Dapper-Drone asked, feeling a spike of concern.

“Oh, the money’s always good. But the mayor’s starting to crack down just a bit. She’s getting up there in years, these days, and she’s aware that the town’s not as…clean, you might say, as it used to be. She wants to bring it back before she ends her last term in office.”

That was a useful piece of information, and one that Dapper-Drone stored in the back of his head. The tingles of pleasure of that information being stored both in his skull and down in the parasite passed almost unfelt, and he got to his hooves with a nod of thanks.

“I’ll keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“Not too straight, nor too narrow.”

“Just enough,” Dapper-Drone promised.

“Good man. I’ll take the cart around back.”

“Thank you, and sorry.”

“No trouble. As long as you take care of him.”

Dapper-Drone nodded. That would be simple enough.

With Westin giggling and rolling his head from one side to the other due to the drugged cum and booze wrestling with each other through his veins, it was easy enough to nudge him towards the door. The pegasus had a hard time staying on his hooves rather than just falling over, but Dapper-Drone was used to pulling a heavy cart behind him. Dealing with a drunk socialite was easy in comparison.

He dragged the other stallion towards the back alleys of Ponyville, taking his time to avoid the bakeries, businesses, and other places that might need to see Westin as a more respectable pony in the future. No need for them to remember the drunk winged stallion in the state he was in.

As they walked, Dapper-Drone was shoved backward again, pushed further and further back into the depths of his own skull. Awareness of the town started fading, and soon, he was alone in the dark, and time no longer mattered.

Twilight-Drone was in the library when the other two showed up. She was in the process of directing the pens over parchment, making sure that the advertisements were properly spelled and the notices properly notated when the door opened. She turned her head toward the two stallions spilling in, and she immediately knew that the operation had been successful.

There was no need to tell them to go to the basement, or to tell them that she would meet them there. That had been decided by the Nest during the night while they had all been hooked up. Her programming and the parasite within her took charge, leaving the pens and parchment hooked up to a sustaining spell.

“I’ll be back later,” she told one of the under-librarians. “There’s something downstairs I have to take care of.”

“Oh, sure, Twilight. You do that.”

“Make sure that nobody goes down there.”

“Oh? Why –”

“Magic.”

“Oooooh!”

The bouncy unicorn that was being trained to replace her one day giggled, all but hopping on her hooves in eagerness, but Twilight-Drone had already turned away. She had other concerns, other things that needed her attention.

She followed the pair of stallions a minute behind, and when she arrived in the basement, Dapper-Drone was already in the process of turning his kidnapped colleague around. The future host’s tail was already flicked up and over his hips, exposing his pucker to the Nest.

It was quite a different Nest to the plant that had infected her just the day before. It was now nearly ten feet tall, growing rapidly, and its trunk was wider than her and Dapper-Drone put together. The various tentacles – no longer tendrils, but actual tentacles – that hung from the top truly made it look like a virile, powerful weeping willow, now, and there were dangerous ends to those tentacle tips. Each one ended with between five and fifteen strands, making them look like floggers rather than purely penetrative tentacles, and those strands each ended with a strange, humming point, like they were all generating some sort of electricity.

The old Twilight Sparkle would have been endlessly fascinated with the biology of the Nest, but Twilight-Drone was not there for that. Her brainpower was reserved for the use of the Nest, not her own curiosity, and that meant that she would not be wasting it when she was not plugged in.

Unfortunately, without being plugged in, they were forced to resort to the same sort of speech patterns as the unprogrammed and the un-infested. She groaned as she trotted over to the stallion.

“How aware is he?” she asked.

“Barely; he knows that I am here, and little more.”

The clinical speech of the other parasite was a marked departure from the way that its host talked when they were around the un-Nested. It was more elaborate and yet more blunt at the same time, extended and abrupt, contradictory. They were trying to be as quick as they were while connected to the Nest while also dealing with the inherent need to explain further as their words were not enough compared to the image-concepts that they could send while they shared a connection.

It was a uniquely frustrating situation.

She helped Dapper-Drone drag the new host to the Nest proper, keeping that tail up with her magic while kicking his legs further apart. One of the tentacles reached up, and the Nest slithered it past the stallion’s waiting rim. He giggled, too drunk-dumb to know what was happening to him, more than likely.

The first shock, one that had taken her by surprise in the past and had sent her standing straight up, made him laugh. He sounded like a foal being tickled rather than a stallion getting his pleasure. She glanced at Dapper-Drone. No expression, but the mere act of turning her head was a greater expression of the parasite within being confused than a wide-eyed, mouth-agape expression on another pony. Dapper-Drone shook his head.

“This host believes that this one will take a while. His mind is washed out with various tolerances. He will take all night.”

“We do not have time for that.”

“We will have to risk it.”

“…It is a greater risk. There are many above.”

“Can you not seal the door?”

“This host could, but it would be suspicious. There are those that saw this host coming down.”

“That is careless.”

“We are learning.”

“So are we. Yet, we cannot afford to make these mistakes.”

“…We will have to risk it.”

Their ‘guest’ groaned under his breath, and both hosts turned back to him. Twilight-Drone stepped forward, driving by the parasite, and pushed one hoof down on their guest’s head. The pegasus grunted, pushed low, lower, lowest, until his head was beneath Twilight-Drone’s stomach.

The parasite pushed on her muscles down there, and the flow began. Not of her other juices, but an altered version of her urine. The various tendrils of the parasite had reached deep inside of her bladder, and throughout the night, the parasite had been changing it. It was not so deeply drugged as the vaginal fluids that came when called by the parasite, due to the sheer volume of it and the parasite’s inability to alter so much volume at once, but it was clear, and different in taste, rather than the bitter fluid that it would have once been.

“Mmph! Nnngh? Nnn…nnn…mm…m…”

She did not take pleasure in the slow showering of the rich pegasus, nor did she believe that it was particularly vengeful, as her memories showed her from past literature. If there was any pleasure at all, it might have come from satisfying the demands of the Nest, but even that was minor. Instead, it was merely a means of ensuring that he stayed out of it, unfocused, entirely drawn in by the chemicals in her urine.

It didn’t take long before his mouth was open under her sex, swallowing what she offered. There was no shame, no pleasure. It was merely a mechanical moment, a means of offering the drugged fluids to the pegasus before he could start working his way out from his trance and realizing where he was and what was going on.

Of course, due to the state that Westin was in, the application of her urine was hardly neat and tidy. By the time she pulled away, bladder drained, half of it had dribbled out of his mouth, along his muzzle and neck, even down to his chest. The stains were, without question, filthy, but he was sufficiently out of it that he did not say a word, and the hosts could not complain.

“This host did not expect that,” Dapper-Drone said.

“This host had many books of erotic literature. She had pleased herself to them multiple times. It was a means to an end.”

“Was it pleasurable?”

“There is no pleasure.”

“None?”

“No longer.”

“This host…has been curious.”

“This host has her curiosity suppressed. She is eager to be used by the Nest, to feel pleasure merely for thinking.”

“This host requires…distraction. Suppression.”

“Is not your host the first? Should it not be controlled?”

“It is controlled. It is merely…questioning. It is currently asleep.”

Twilight-Drone noted that information. It would be useful for the Nest to know that there was a new program that it would have to start working on. If the hosts grew too aware of the dangers of being infested, of the direction that would take them, then there might be some attempt to push back. It was unlikely, of course, and there were no minds that could stand against the Nest – Twilight-Drone was one of the few that could come close, and she was nowhere near capable of that – but the Nest would take all risks seriously. It would not allow any potential host to escape.

Twilight-Drone and Dapper-Drone glanced down at the impaled pegasus. The Nest would have him partially changed in a few hours, they were sure, changed enough to not expose the Nest itself or the other hosts, though not necessarily obedient. They could gradually speed that up by either weakening him with their various fluids or by plugging themselves into the Nest’s tendrils to give it more ‘processing power’, but either way, it would take a very long time.

“This host will take the first shift,” Twilight-Drone said.

“This host will ensure that he remains out of it.”

Twilight-Drone nodded, turning around and lifting her tail. As she backed up, the creaking sound of the Nest bending down to touch her asshole filled her ears, and a moment later, the Nest filled her.

Just as before, she was completely saturated with the thoughts of the Nest, the drone’s mind pushed to the back of her skull and her brain left to the devices of the Nest proper. The pressure to completely download, program, and convert Westin was high, but Twilight could already feel her mind being turned to the task, the firing neurons in her skull aiding the powerful Nest-mind in doing just that.

Little by little, the details of Westin’s thoughts and life were being taken from him, added to the collective of the Nest, filling it and storing those details alongside the greater collective of thoughts and memories taken from her and Dapper-Drone. A possibility existed, she realized, for someone to have their personality completely overwritten, to have a personality of one pony downloaded into the parasite of another. The thought was random, strange, but an interesting one, and it was swiftly squirreled away by the Nest, and Twilight-Drone forgot that she had ever thought it in the first place.

Instead, she thought about what she was told to think about, scarcely aware of the rest of the world. She saw the problem before her – Westin’s mental resistance, his thoughts, his desires of ‘freedom,’ and his life as it had always been – and put her thoughts towards breaking it. The Nest dragged her mind along, and she went along for the ride.

And through it all, her body spasmed, shaking, trembling, shivering, pleasure wracking her from the utter bliss that came from being used. She, Dapper-Drone, anyone hooked up to the Nest would feel like this, rewarded for their service. This pleasure, this bliss, was all that would work for them anymore.

To be of the Nest was to feel pleasure.

To be of service was to feel bliss.

This was their reward.

Dapper-Drone watched, envious inasmuch as a drone could be of what Twilight-Drone was experiencing while connected to the Nest. The pleasure spasms that went through the host was the only sign of the raw physicality that the mare was likely experiencing, though that would change over time. The juices rolling down her hind legs would grow thicker and more copious in mere minutes, and a few drool-lines would likely join the other intense signs of sexual satisfaction that she was getting.

The host glanced at Westin. Every sign pointed to the pegasus being fine for the moment, though likely in need of another, more powerful dose of the mind-altering liquids in a half hour or so. That should be fine; judging from the comments from Mr. Cumulus, it was unlikely that Westin would be missed from polite society for the next day. He had been rowdy, a little less ‘clean’ than the mayor would like, and his general disappearance would probably lead to quiet relief rather than a search party.

Yet, at the same time, as he was slowly being put back into the box in the rear of his own head, Dapper-Drone was quite aware of the fact that things were quickly going to the point of no return. When it had been just him that had been infested and changed, the Nest had been vulnerable, completely reliant on him, and he had been given some chance to think, to work for it, to be programmed to follow orders and to work with his parasite.

Now, Twilight-Drone was part of it too, and their chances were better. She was allowed to think for its purposes, while he was getting pushed further and further back, made more and more redundant.

Now, Westin was being inducted in. Richer than him, better connected, more to offer. What would happen when the pegasus was completely part of the Nest? What would happen to him, after that?

He didn’t know, and he wasn’t allowed to think about it. Once more, he faded back as the parasite took full control, resting until he was needed again.

Chapter 7

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Dapper-Drone was released from the Nest into a pool of his own seed, something that did not surprise the host in the slightest. The constant pleasure that came from being hooked up to the Nest meant that it was the only time that he really felt the utter bliss that he used to feel with each coupling before the parasite had become part of his life. It was…odd, in some ways, knowing that he had decided so very willingly to get rid of that part of his pleasure, his life, his fun.

As he stood in front of Westin Regalis, the pegasus’s eyes completely dazed as Twilight fed him another dose of urine – the scent of which was surprisingly fruity, all things considered – he knew that he had a brief moment while the parasite within him was pulling itself together with its new orders. There was no full control just yet, no shoving into the back of his own skull where he would sit idle until needed.

For the moment, for this brief moment, he had some awareness, some will.

Not that he could use it, nor would he use it against the Nest. Despite everything, some part of him – programmed or not – still approved of the great and powerful being, and he knew for a fact that it was better for the ponies of Equestria to have this come for them. The Nest would make life better for everyone, he was sure.

Yet, there was still some vague sense of regret, something that Dapper-Drone couldn’t entirely quantify despite his best attempts. There was a loss, a sense of something missing, and there was no getting it back.

Not now.

Not ever, perhaps.

As he watched Westin’s eyes glaze over again, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was fully released. Twilight-Drone was already stepping away from his face, the mare backing up to take her shift against the Nest to finish off the programming. Her time connected to it always did more for the Nest’s processing power than his did, and he knew that the Nest would prefer that Twilight-Drone stay hooked up to it permanently, but there was only so much that any host body could take. Staying perpetually connected to the Nest would eventually overheat the skull and mind, burning the host out completely and possibly killing them. Perhaps, in the future, there would be a use for prisoners that way, for those that had defied the Nest too violently and would never be useful elsewhere, but for the moment, with two – and soon, three – hosts, there was no point in wasting them.

Westin jerked, and for a split-second, it almost seemed like he was trying to fight. His wings flicked, almost extending, but stopped in mid-reach. His eyes rolled back, his cock spurted once, and then…

Then it was done.

With a soft ‘splorch’, the tentacle up the pony’s ass came free, allowing the stallion to stand on his own. He still stood with his mouth hanging open, panting softly, but the panting sound was slowly fading away.

Dapper-Drone knew the feeling. The other stallion was slowly coming to grips with the programming rammed into his brain during the last day and night. The long session of pushing, changing, and altering his mind would be taking effect now, gradually pulling the more conscious part of his mind towards the back of his skull. Not quite making him a passenger in his own body yet, but more like following a set of predetermined channels through his thoughts, focused on the goals of the Nest and no more.

He remembered his first days, but he knew that Twilight-Drone had been different to him. He remembered how she had been…almost damaged when she had first finished her programming. It had taken putting a parasite in her to be able to pass again, and he knew that he had been different. The first host, the one that had been the most experimental, the one that took it in stages, while the others had been forced through to the end as fast as possible without any breaks.

It’s no wonder that they are…damaged…by the programming, Dapper-Drone thought. They were changed harder, more abruptly, no in-between stages…

Whereas he…he still remembered. Not well, not with fondness, but he remembered.

As Westin slowly woke up, his body still adjusting to the different feelings he had, the Nest took the next step. Dapper-Drone watched as one of the many hollow roots of the plant lifted from the earth, and he saw not one, but multiple worms inside of it. The Nest had grown massive in just a few days, looming over ten feet high and with roots that were much longer and more wide-spread than they used to be. It was rapidly becoming something unstoppable, and even in his state of mild regret, he still felt like there was something to be proud of there, that he was part of this whole thing.

It lowered the root to Westin’s ass, and the heir to the Regalis fortune lifted his tail as he – as all of them – had been programmed to do around the Nest. The worm at the end of the root slithered forward, slime-covered, and it passed the already-stretched pucker with ease. It was inside of him, then, deep inside, and the stallion twitched, his cock flexing out, in, out, in.

It was at that moment that Dapper-Drone felt his own parasite finally seize control again. The pressure inside changed, and there was a clenching feeling around his prostate. The sensation went right down through his dick, almost like there was a tube running through his insides – which, in some ways, there was – that forced his shaft to extend in kind.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

It was a signal of sorts, though he knew that it was an obvious one. The Nest was still experimenting, learning, figuring out –

Westin responded, pushing his cock out, flicking it twice, and then pulling it back in. The parasite in Dapper-Drone’s ass surged with a sense of satisfaction.

Call and respond, via the body. It was a rough thing, something that would only work with stallions, but it was a start. It was the beginning of a code, and something that might be workable…in some areas. Not in the cities, not in –

Another cut-off, and Dapper-Drone felt the pressure that he had become all too used to shoving him further and further towards the back of his own head. He went with it, fading to little more than audio as he heard Westin talking.

“There is a plan,” the pegasus said.

“A plan for more hosts.” His voice, his mouth, but not his words.

“We take stallions for security.”

“Then subjects for hosts.”

“Build up a group.”

“Built up a ‘herd’ of hosts.”

“Such…imprecision.”

“It is a limitation.”

“This host…craves pleasure. It wants to use them, the way that it has used others.”

“It will learn its place. If it does not, teach it.”

Dapper-Drone’s own voice had just pronounced an odd judgment on his old comrade, and despite himself, he would have smiled if he could. He had always thought that Westin had been a bit much for all that he had been a useful pegasus and a useful investor. The idea of the hedonistic stallion getting a taste of his own medicine was almost an enjoyable thought.

But that was enough of him. He was pushed away, and he knew that time would pass.

And pass it did. He ‘woke’ as two other stallions approached a table. He didn’t recognize the locale, but he could tell that they hadn’t gone far. His body was still energized, awake, which meant that they hadn’t spent a day walking, just a half hour, maybe a full one. The other stallions sat down, the two earth ponies each getting a cup of cider from a passing bar-mare.

“Thank you for coming,” Dapper-Drone said. “This is a marvelous opportunity for you.”

“Heard that you needed someone strong,” one of the two ponies said, the blue one to the silent green one. “Thought that we’d come take a look.”

“That’s correct.”

“What’s the job?” the blue one said.

“Just a simple thing. Keep an eye on the door in the library while Twilight Sparkle runs some experiments. You know how it is with the alicorns; all that magic has to be kept in one secure place, after all.”

They nodded; the reputation of the various alicorns had been embedded in the country for years, and it was easy to play on it now.

Dapper-Drone had various thoughts of how to bring the con around, to make the stallions want to be part of this. The art of the sell was to make the buyer feel like they were getting something amazing, that they had an opportunity that they couldn’t just walk away from. There were few enough that could do that, but he knew how to pull the minds and wants of others to his purposes.

However, he wasn’t getting the chance. The parasite had been given a mission, and it was pushing forward to accomplish it, giving only lip-service to the various ideas that bubbled up from Dapper-Drone’s isolated cell.

“We’ll be paying well,” his voice said. “And there’ll be no need for you to ever come in contact with the magic.”

“Mmmph. That’s…better than some of the other offers. We don’t have to actually be used for experiments, do we?” the green one asked.

“Not at all.”

There were ways to do this better. They could sell this as a sort of tease. These two were country bumpkins, probably from out past Apple Acres, which meant that they were lonely. They were done with the season, which meant that they would want interaction. It would be all too easy to say that there’d be times when Twilight would be so busy that they’d get easy looks up under her tail, or that there’d be some mares that’d need carrying and imply that there was a chance that they could get a feel or a look, or that there’d be magic that’d give them some fun between the different experiments.

There were all kinds of lures that they could use to not have to spend too much money and make the pair of stallions more interested, but his parasite wasn’t using them, nor was it using him. Dapper-Drone was ever-more a shell and little more.

The parasite addressed their fears, but was relying on them to provide the want. That wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how any sort of salesmanship worked.

Completely as expected, Dapper-Drone watched as they bargained rather than taking the deal. It was too late to try and make it sound better, and it was pure damage control from that moment on. In the end, the stallions took the job, but for 50% more pay than they were supposed to be offered.

The purse that Westin-Drone must have given them upon leaving the library was a great deal lighter when the stallions left with their down-payment, and Dapper-Drone was put to sleep again.

“Yeeep, I reckon I could.”

Dapper-Drone woke to the familiar voice of Big Mac, the sound of largest stallion – or near enough that it made no difference – in Ponyville shocking him out of his own isolation. He would have blinked if it weren’t for the fact that the parasite, once again, was in full control of every function of their body.

Of his body.

“You think you could keep an eye on things? Or you think that you could take the deal?” his voice said.

“I reckon. Yep. I reckon I could take a deal.”

“…If?”

The impatience of the parasite filtered up through the link, and Dapper-Drone would have laughed if there was still humor to be had. His memories of Big Mac were filled with moments like this, reminders that you couldn’t talk to this stallion the way that you did any other client. You had to build your questions around the idea of one or two word responses, three if you were really lucky. The fact that the parasite was stuck in a loop with these repeated answers meant that it still didn’t understand the situation, not entirely.

Dapper-Drone tried to push an answer forward. The parasite, out of desperation, took it.

“We have security. We need someone in the lab, keeping Twilight safe.”

“Yeeeeep.”

“You’re strong.”

“Yeeeeep.”

“We want you for that job.”

“We?”

“Me, my partner, and Twilight.”

“Ah reckon, I could.”

“For the right price?”

“Yuuup.”

“And that price is?”

Exactly the wrong question to ask. Big Mac just shrugged.

Dapper-Drone would have been tearing out his own mane watching someone else push this sort of amateur line of bargaining. The idea had been to take it slow, and then offer a price that actually played into helping Sweet Apple Acres as much as it did Big Mac himself. Say that part of the deal would be coming by during the next Applebucking season and putting some of the subjects out there as low-paid workers and volunteers. Say that some of the experiments would go towards making bigger and better apples. Say that they were developing something that would help their business.

Any lie would do. Big Mac would be taken in and infested soon enough. They didn’t need to come up with a good story. But the parasite just took the idea of getting him in slowly and then asking him what he wanted.

That.

Wasn’t.

How.

It.

Worked.

Dapper-Drone, even in his place way down deep in the back of his mind, knew that, but the parasite was different to how it had been when it was first pushed into him. That first infestation had been done days ago, now, and while it hadn’t been equal, he had still been more than just a vapid passenger in the back of his own head. With each successive iteration, however, with each new programming session and download time with the Nest, he had been pushed further and further back, the parasite given more and more overall control and less requirement to listen to him, or use him, or anything.

Dapper-Drone knew that this was bad. He knew that this was a detriment to what the Nest wanted, but due to the position he was in, he couldn’t say it.

It didn’t help that he was loyal to the Nest, completely loyal. Whether that was programming or his own need for management was impossible to say any longer, but what was certain was the fact that he wanted the Nest to succeed. He wanted everyone in Equestria to come under the common direction of the Nest and its needs. The fact that its own subordinates, the parasites, were behaving so stupidly really annoyed him.

But there was nothing that he could do except keep offering ideas and hope that the parasite took them. He threw out payment suggestions, possibilities, but knew that every one of them was going to have to be more expensive now that they had passed the point of no return. The gentle lie would have given them a discount, ease of access, and trust from Big Mac that they’d now have to buy.

Stupid.

Another flicker, and he woke to find Applejack right in his face. The mare was all but furious.

“What the cotton-picking hay did you tell my brother?” she shouted.

This time the parasite was listening. This time the parasite was begging him for an answer. And a less loyal, more vindictive host might have actually waited for a few seconds, forced themselves to silence out of petulance for the sake of what had been done to them before.

Dapper-Drone was not one of those hosts. He wanted this to work. And for the first time in too long, the parasite listened completely.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought the season was over; if I was wrong, I’m terribly sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

Customer service was part and parcel with selling goods for any merchant. If you didn’t take care of your customers – a fact that was lost on many merchants as the days of contracts faded and the days of whimsy had fallen upon them – you weren’t likely to keep any when you hit the first hurdle of displeasure. It was key that you kept a constant upkeep of your clients going, making sure that they were happy with you.

Applejack’s fury abated, if only slightly, and she pulled her face back. They were just outside of the orchard, he realized, and that meant that they’d probably met Big Mac at the orchard itself. They were ranging far afield, indeed.

“Sorry. I’m just a little upset, ya know? Ain’t like a pony to come by and poach my brother off me, ya know?”

Dapper-Drone nodded, the parasite pushing him for what to do next. It had clearly been knocked around a great deal, and thankfully, one piece of programming that the Nest had pushed in seemed to be that, if it failed multiple times, it was to use all sources of information for its survival rather than continuing to follow just the objective directives that it had been given. There was an outlet, it was just one that came in as too-little, too-late, or near enough to it.

Dapper-Drone kept it to the nod, and Applejack, honest Applejack, continued to explain.

“See, I was planning to get a jump-start on the next season. Plant early, clear some ground before the winter came in and froze it all up. Keep the cursing to a minimum next year when we started working hard, heh. But I can’t do that without Big Mac.”

“Ah, I see. That is a problem.”

“So, the way I see it, I gotta talk to you about it. Any chance that you can replace my brother with someone else?”

Dapper-Drone considered it. There was the possibility of getting other stallions, but they had Big Mac under a contract now. Releasing him from it would mean having to get two other stallions to do the same job, and likely paying more. The amount of bits was immaterial to the Nest, but Dapper-Drone had been a merchant long enough to know that even the Regalis fortune that they now had access to was finite. There was only so much that Westin would be able to give them without arousing some sort of suspicion.

But even aside from the financials, having Big Mac on their side gave them something else: muscle. The sheer size of that stallion frightened off most of the other stallions, the rough ones and the annoying ones that wanted to just do what they wanted. More to the point, he was informed by the parasite that getting Big Mac to agree had opened up a great deal more interest in the experiments, which would lead to more hosts.

Cutting him loose wasn’t an option. The parasite would have just said no, and that would have started the argument up again. The smarter option, the option that furthered the Nest’s priorities, lay elsewhere.

“I’m afraid that we cannot,” Dapper-Drone said. “But what I can promise is many more volunteers working for you.”

“What are ya talking about? This whole experiment’s just you and Twilight, right?”

“That’s correct, but we can put down a volunteer clause in the contract that we have everyone participating in the experiment sign off on. That means that when planting time comes around, you’ll have a small army of volunteers – free workers – going through your orchard.”

“…Huh. You’d do that?”

“We’ll pay for that.”

A small lie, but this was the time for it. And it seemed to work, as Applejack clearly considered the option. But there needed to be a sweetener, something to make it work out for her. Dapper-Drone came up with it instantly.

“And in return, we’ll throw in some spells from Twilight; hovering baskets, self-sorting containers, and dewormers as needed.”

“Oh-ho, now that’s a bargain!” Applejack grinned. “Dapper, you got yourself a deal.”

They tapped hooves on it, and the mare turned with her head held high and a tune on her lips. Dapper-Drone, on the other hand, was already being pushed towards the back of his own head once more. He had fulfilled his function, and that was all that mattered to the parasite.

Nevermind that he had just saved them from an inquest.

Nevermind that he had just made sure that they weren’t going to be chased all around town.

Nevermind that he had just kept Big Mac as part of the plan.

No, all that mattered was that he had done his job, and now, he could be silenced and sequestered in the back of his own head once more. The parasite was too focused, and that could be problematic…

The parasite in the body of Westin Regalis was in the process of getting bits from the Ponyville bank when its host started complaining. Due to the relatively new nature of the host, and the fact that it had been programmed around the tolerance that it had for the various drugs and substances that it had abused pre-infestation, there were still some annoying levels of individuation within. Outside, the host was no different as it passed one letter of withdrawal after another to the teller on the other side of the barred window, but within, the arguments were more fierce than desired.

I was promised that this would pleasurable, Westin said.

There will be pleasure.

I was told –

The host will be given pleasure when the task is done.

The task can wait. I am not accustomed to being held back.

The parasite within did not feel anger, but it could feel something very similar to frustration, and that was building up rapidly. It had full control, and the host could do nothing, but the barrage of pleasure from the Nest programming this pegasus had done little to quell the desires that Westin Regalis had become accustomed to fulfilling at the drop of a hat. The temptation to shove the stallion’s personality into a little dark hole and keep it there was rising, but the fact that they were still in the process of dealing with bits – a custom that the newly-formed parasite still had only a vague understanding of – meant that it needed the pony’s mind front and center for the moment.

Unfortunately, that meant that the spoiled-rotten part of the stallion’s personality was just as present as his business acumen. The way that he had treated Derpy Hooves, the mail-mare, had been more than slightly slimy, and while the parasite had allowed some of the ‘flirting’ that the stallion wanted to do through for the purposes of staying true to his personality, it held back the rest that would have ended with the equivalent of offering the mail mare a few dozen bits for some back-alley humping. They did not have the time to carry a drugged-out mail carrier back to the Nest for further infestation, and, though it did not understand entirely why, there were rules against further copulatory practices in front of uninfested ponies.

I was allowed.

The host will be quiet.

I am going to be given the pleasure I was promised.

The host will be quiet.

I want –

“Here’s the last of it, sir,” the pony on the other side of the bars said. “Ten thousand bits, all counted.”

“Thank you, good stallion,” the parasite said, pushing the voice of the host to the back of their shared head for the moment. “Do make sure that you keep more bits on hand; I may need to do another withdrawal in the near future.”

The way that the stallion on the other side paled was something that the parasite took note of, but pushed forward without questioning. The objective of the moment had been achieved, which meant that it was time to move on to –

When do I get what I want?

The parasite’s priority list shifted. It had intended to go back to the library, collect Twilight-Drone, and then begin the process of papering the town with the advertisements for the experiments. Dapper-Drone was supposed to be nearly-done with the collection of security, and they would begin the conversion of those overnight. Once they had one, they could leave them tied to the Nest for a longer session, which would speed conversion. The Nest was gathering up more tentacles, and once they had doubled their current host numbers, they could start converting two at a time, or even three, without sacrificing the speed at which it was done.

But with the constant pressure from Westin-Drone, it was time to take steps. It pushed the command ‘Break-In Westin-Drone’ from the bottom of the list to the top, and force-marched their body around the bank. The alley behind was quiet, sandwiched between the bank and a retirement building for other, older equines, and nobody ever stepped back there as far as the stallion’s memories showed.

If Westin-Drone wanted pleasure, then the stallion would receive it.

The parasite twisted itself ever tighter around the stallion’s prostate. The location of its embedding would soon become a place of melding, where a portion of the parasite’s body would become utterly embedded and entrenched against the prostate, to the point where the nerves within that little point of pleasure would be directly connected to the parasite itself. Mere movement would be akin to the pleasure of being anally rutted, and more intense stimulation would be orgasmic beyond measure, if the parasite chose to give it.

But as it stood, there were other things that it could do, more intense, more forced things that would make the point that it desired.

The parasite extended its feelers through the tubing down to the stallion’s orbs, and began swishing them around. The personality-bubble of Westin-Drone seized up slightly as the tendrils stirred up the inside of his balls, pulling at the seed within, forcing pleasure through the nerves that dangled down into the sac proper.

Elsewhere, it forced stimulation through the nerves of the host’s penis, forcing it to drop, making it fall, rise, slap against the belly. Westin-Drone, unlike the other personalities within the Nest, was still feeling the pleasure. Twilight-Drone had subsumed herself into thought-pleasure, allowing herself only the ‘fun’ that came from being connected to the Nest and the hyper-bliss that came from that thought-processing brain work that the Nest put her through. Dapper-Drone, the parasite knew, had become numb to his own body, focused more on the pleasure of the Nest.

Westin-Drone was new.

Westin-Drone was an addict.

And more than that, the parasite didn’t block any of the pleasure. The parasite forced it through to the bubble, inflicting the pleasure on the host, and the host moaned in a way that only a paralyzed, totally controlled stallion could as the body was forced to get erect, blood rushing to the shaft and forcing it harder, harder, and harder still until it was bobbing and leaking.

If Westin-Drone wanted pleasure, then pleasure it would receive.

There was no build-up to the first orgasm. With its total control of the body, the parasite didn’t need to force stimulation to make the orgasm happen. It could have merely drained the sac between the stallion’s hind legs by applying pressure to the sac walls and forcing the testicles to push upwards, to empty themselves through the forced-open passages that connected the testes to the shaft. The emptying could have been as empty of sensation as the parasite wished.

It did not wish that this time. It wished for crippling pleasure.

It forced its connection to the stallion’s nervous system to full strength, and blasted the feeling of pleasure straight through from groin to spine to brain. The stallion’s legs locked as the host’s shaft went up, spasming, squirting, spraying across the ground.

The parasite noted that the first splash had hit the belly-fur, and it adjusted the next spray. Not out of modesty, but to avoid being exposed as a deviant that did such things in the public.

Westin-Drone was panting, happy, but this was no lesson. It was not done yet. It had to break the host.

Pulse.

Another shatter-point of pleasure rammed its way up the host’s spine, and the bubble that was Westin-Drone in their head shook, gasping, trying to shiver and shake. The host did not; the parasite saw to that. But the pleasure continued to rise, the shaft forced down slightly, spraying between their front hooves and creating a filthy puddle of slime and spent seed amid the dirt.

Again.

At the sixth burst of forced pleasure, the host started begging for mercy. At the seventh, the coherence of the host was starting to break down. At the eighth, there was no more complaining, merely moaning, and by the ninth, there was just a silent, ragged sense of a mind trying to breathe with lungs that it did not have.

The physical result, of course, was a mess that was beyond the pale, and the parasite turned the stallion’s body away from it. The parasite could feel the little aches of exhaustion and tiredness running up and down the legs of the host, and knew that it had pushed its luck further than it should have. Even with all its control, the physical manifestation of so many rapid orgasms could not be entirely denied.

Its cock slithered back into its sheath by the time it reached the exit of the alley, and the rich, bag-carrying pegasus stumbled as it reached the edge. The parasite cast about for options of how to keep moving –

“Oh dear. Oh, sir, are you okay?”

The parasite turned Westin-Drone’s head to look at the source of the voice. It came from a mare, a white-furred mare with a pink mane and a nurse’s cap on the top of her head. She looked down with kindness and concern, probably no more aware of their debauched doings than anyone else, only seeing the exhaustion that came afterward.

Westin-Drone’s thoughts turned to sensuality. The parasite’s directives of finding other useful hosts saw the nurse’s attire, and knew that there were possibilities there.

“I need…some help.”

“Here, let me get you back on your hooves,” she said. “I’m Nurse Redheart. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Mmmph…I’m staying with Ms. Sparkle. A research retreat.”

“Oh, dear, dear. Let me get you to the library, then.”

Bits and a new potential host for the Nest. The trip had been more than a little productive, after all, despite the general hindrance of Westin-Drone. That would be solved soon enough, however, and the next connection to the Nest would make sure that he was properly educated as to his place within the Nest.

Chapter 8

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Twilight-Drone made notes. There was no technical need to make them, as the parasite could contain all the information that they took in while they were watching the process of the under-librarians being turned into drones, but there was something that spoke to the host of the old style of observation, so the parasite indulged it. There might be need for other hosts to read it in the future, perhaps, and there was never harm in having a back-up copy of the information.

That said, there was, perhaps, also the possibility of it being affected by the host’s mannerisms, and there was the possibility that it was being over-indulged. It would check with the Nest if it had been somehow corrupted, but in the meantime, the alicorn’s horn glowed and a quill darted across the parchment of their blank book.

The three under-librarians had been easily drugged during a lunchtime meal that they had shared. The meal had been confirmation that urine did not work so readily as seed or vaginal fluids when it was applied to others, and it was weakened further by the fact that it had been harvested some time ago. Twilight-Drone had made a note of that in the book, as well, though it was little more than a footnote compared to the various other notes and observations that they had been making since.

Watching the process would have been fascinating for the alicorn if she had been completely free of the parasite. As it stood, there was a hint of something pushing through the emptiness that had become her life. The personality of Twilight Sparkle was still there, still held in reserve, but the emotions were dampened, held down, ensuring that obedience always came quickly without sensations of guilt or anything else.

The process, though. The process.

The Nest was hooked up to each of the three under-librarians, their tails high and their taut rims becoming looser with each pulse of information to and from the Nest. The three of them had been hooked up to drink-tubes, each one made to suck down either some of Dapper-Drone’s harvested seed – which seemed to hold its potency, coming from no later than the night before – and a bit of her own urine. The mix was vaguely sweet, as far as she could tell, and it seemed to agree with the potential hosts, keeping the quiescent and uncomplaining.

The speed of the process, however…

There was no denying that the Nest was working as hard as possible, and it was quite apparent that the bigger Nest – nearly breaking through the ceiling of the basement, now, and starting to grow out rather than just up – was certainly more competent and powerful than it had been while resting in a pot. However, even with the greater growth, she could tell that the various potential hosts were nowhere near converted, and it was entirely possible it would take multiple days to do all of them at once.

It was something of a problem. They could close the library for the weekend, she supposed, but at least one of the under-librarians had a family member that would come looking for them, wondering where they had gone.

Twilight-Drone might have had an answer, but the parasite controlling her was more interested in seeing this through. There was the whole job of securing the library for the experiments, for the gathering of hosts, and that was its focus. The risk of having one of the under-librarians found missing was deemed less serious than the possibility of one of them stumbling on the Nest and revealing it to the town.

So, this was the decided lesser evil. They would convert all three at once and hope for the best.

Well, convert two.

Twilight-Drone’s eyes shifted to the more catatonic of the three. An attempt had been made at rapid infestation, the worm introduced before the pony in question had been properly programmed. The result had been…problematic. There had been a fight, one that had forced Twilight-Drone to utilize her magic to make the under-librarian to go still, and now, the older mare had one of her front legs in a cast, and her eyes had gone funny, one looking in the wrong direction compared to the other.

The Nest had yet to tell them what had gone wrong, but she had no illusions that part of the problem had been an attempt at integration at too early a stage. A pony that was not yet fully programmed could fight back against a parasite to a limited extent, and the resulting exchange of signals up and down an unprepared nervous system could start frying things left and right. The mare might not be able to move without assistance for the rest of her life due to that, if Twilight-Drone didn’t miss her guess.

It was a reminder that they were forced to move slower. They couldn’t just take a parasite and ram it into someone else without doing a great deal of preparatory work. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could sneak a worm into someone if the pony in question was particularly well drugged up first, so out of it that they weren’t aware of the parasite sliding in and integrating itself with their nervous system. Perhaps, then, they would be able to take control of another pony without risking serious damage.

But if the pony in question was even half-aware of what was happening…

Well, the results spoke for themselves. Twilight-Drone put it out of her mind – or rather, the parasite put it out of their mind, guilt and all – and they went back to taking notes of the process.

It had been six hours of work, and it was clear that the three under-librarians were less than a third of the way programmed. Even the one that had been damaged and infested wasn’t quite ready for release to the general public again, considering the way that she had to be kept drugged as much as the others. There were occasional flexes of movement, the parasite attempting to try out its new host, but it was never quite smooth enough, never quite natural compared to the way that the pony was supposed to move.

Time, it seemed, was still against them.

Twilight-Drone made a note of that, as well as the parasite and host’s estimates of just how long this would take. Eighteen hours, minimum, for three hosts to be completely taken in, and possibly as much as thirty-six. It was not an optimal procedure, and they would need to find some way to speed it up. To expand the Nest to a sufficient number of hosts that it would not be able to be taken out was going to be problematic if they had to take a day or longer per host to do it.

How do we make that faster…how do we make that better…

It was not sufficient to merely wait for the Nest to grow on its own. While that had sped up the process to some extent – Twilight-Drone was aware, from the shared information during the syncing with the nest – that Dapper-Drone had taken multiple days to be completely conditioned, programed, and infested, while Twilight-Drone had taken little over a day, and Westin-Drone had taken slightly over half, but that was still a considerable amount of time for a pony to be completely brought over to the side of the Nest. In a small town, that worked, but in a larger settlement –

Twilight-Drone was caught slightly off-guard by that thought, though the surprise, again, was smothered beneath the general conditioning of the parasite. Until that moment, the entirety of the mission had been related towards just expanding the power of the Nest, focusing on building it up, making sure that it would continue to survive against the possibility of discovery. The idea of expanding out of Ponyville, heading to the different areas of Equestria, had yet to push itself forward as a possibility.

Yet, now it had…and it intrigued the host.

The parasite and the host were of one mind on this, and neither needed the encouragement of the other to push forward with various thought experiments. Twilight-Drone wondered how the greater wills of other princesses would stack up against the power of the Nest. The parasite wondered how the powers of those princesses would allow them to do things with different parasites, or how it would allow the Nest to grow in different ways. Twilight-Drone wondered if it was possible for the Nest to move. The parasite knew that it would be difficult to uproot and transport something the Nest’s current size, but that there might be other ways.

Other possibilities.

Other ways forward.

Other Nests, even.

Twilight-Drone would have blinked at that thought, but the host was already curious enough to pursue that, and the parasite encouraged it. Perhaps it was merely a way to keep her from thinking about the situation that they were currently in, but the host was more than willing to pursue that thought-path rather than think about –

Knock-knock.

The sound echoed down from the ramp leading to the upper part of the tree, and Twilight-Drone stiffened. There would have been no knocking from any infested that was part of the Nest, and the only employees that would normally come down were down here already.

That meant that either one of the clients of the library wanted access to the basement…or one of the other hosts had come back with someone on their tails.

Either way, it meant that she had to be more careful. That they had to be more careful.

Twilight-Drone shut the book of notes, carefully floating it out of reach, before turning away from the Nest. The drugged fluids would be sufficient to keep control over the various ponies being conditioned to serve, and she wouldn’t be away for long. She trotted up and around the ramp, making her way up, and she just hoped that it wasn’t that serious. What could have happened?

Westin-Drone wasn’t keen about the whole idea of bringing the nurse with them back to the tree, but the parasite inside was more interested in the idea of the possibilities she brought in. It was actually almost surprised, inasmuch as a parasite could be, that the host was so against bringing someone to the Nest in the first place.

She has possibilities.

She’s got connections, too.

That makes her desirable.

That means there are witnesses. People that come looking, Westin-Drone said. That means that there’s going to be people that notice her go missing.

The parasite didn’t believe that was the case. They had converted Westin without anyone knowing that he was gone, and he was rich and famous.

I’m also someone with a reputation for going off and doing what I want. If this nurse has a regular job, she’s got patients, ponies that expect her.

This one doubts that it will matter for a day.

You haven’t spent time recovering in the hospital after a cider bender…

Westin-Drone was silenced after that. There seemed little point listening to a host that would fight just to be contrary.

And it believed that the nurse would be useful. Access to a hospital, or even to a ward of different pony patients, meant that there was a possibility that they could have access to those that didn’t have the stamina to stand up to the infestation process. The time spent programming them, if they could find a way to bring the Nest to them, would be far less than it would be here, among healthy ponies.

There were things that the parasite knew that it was missing – following a strict program did not, after all, leave one unaware of the holes in said program – but the parasite followed the directions of the Nest. And that was all.

Knock-knock.

“Are you sure that she’s down there?” Nurse Redheart asked from behind. “I mean, I understand that you probably are acquainted with Miss Sparkle –”

“Quite.”

“But wouldn’t she be up here, looking after the books?”

“She’s probably running an experiment.”

“Ah…that would make sense.”

And it was better than the truth. Westin-Drone felt exasperated in the back of the host-mind, and the parasite almost shared that feeling. It could feel the slight tension in the air, and knew that it needed help to cut through that.

The whole difficulty stemmed from the fact that the nurse believed that Twilight Sparkle didn’t know what she was dealing with, that she should know that she had someone potentially abusing a substance under her roof. Normally, that wouldn’t have been that much of an issue, but the fact that the nurse insisted that she talk to the Princess of Friendship about this, for the sake of clarity, meant that there was no clear way to get her somewhere private to prep her for infestation.

If all went well, it wouldn’t matter. And if it didn’t…well, the parasite had other ideas for how to handle this. Westin-Drone, in his own way, was something of a source of inspiration, it must be said.

Thankfully, the library was all but empty. Everyone that might have been a client of the library for the day had either gone home or not attended this morning. Westin-Drone was thankful, and so was the parasite. They would need that privacy if things went badly.

One more knock, and Twilight-Drone finally poked her head out of the basement. The alicorn slid through the crack in the door, shutting it before the faintest whiff of the sexual happenings in the lower levels could come through the gap. She put on a smile – one that he recognized as just another parasite-grin – before turning her attention to Nurse Redheart.

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I was busy down there; can I help you find something?”

“Um…no, I was just returning him to you.” Nurse Redheart flicked her head and mane in his direction before looking at Twilight more carefully. “Are you alright, Miss Sparkle?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I just had a long night.”

“You know that you’re not supposed to do that.”

“It happens. It’s not that big a deal.”

“You know it is. For an alicorn, in particular, with all that magic, it’s very key that you get sufficient amounts of rest if you want to use them properly. I know; I’ve studied how to care for ponies like you.”

Westin-Drone moved back from the pair, the infested pegasus carefully positioning himself between the nurse and the exit. If things went bad, then he would need to do something to keep her from running.

The parasite in him wanted to communicate the situation to Twilight-Drone, but there was no clear way to do that. With cock-twitching, lowering his shaft and flicking it around, he might have been able to communicate to Dapper-Drone with the rudimentary code that the Nest had imprinted on them, but with Twilight-Drone, there was no way for her to respond. The most he might be able to do was get a message to the parasite and her host, but that would also risk Nurse Redheart seeing just what was going on with him, and that would raise even more questions.

The lack of a way to communicate was irritating, and it was stored in the back of the parasite’s own mind for bringing up with the Nest later.

“You need to take it easy from time to time,” Redheart said, continuing her lecture. “If you don’t, then you’re going to need to go all the way back to Canterlot.”

“Why –”

“Why? Are you that tired? Dear, don’t you remember?”

Twilight-Drone looked vaguely overwhelmed, as if the parasite was trying to find some sort of information that it couldn’t quite understand. The result meant that Twilight herself looked more than a little confused, dazed, as if smacked over the head.

“Twilight? Twilight, are you still with me?” the nurse asked.

“I – what are you talking about?”

The parasite in Westin-Drone knew what was happening. The same could happen to any of them; if they were caught off-guard, off-program, then there was a possibility that the parasite wouldn’t know what part of the host personality to pull up, what information to grab for. And if the host was not the most lucid at the moment – and considering Twilight-Drone was the Nest’s favorite tool to use for advanced programming and thought-processing, the mare was likely more than a little mentally exhausted to begin with – then the parasite could end up fumbling in a sea of information.

Nurse Redheart stepped forward, pressing one hoof to Twilight-Drone’s flank. Her eyebrows went up.

“Her heart rate is skyrocketing. How long has she been awake?”

“…”

“Sir, do you know how long she’s been awake?” Redheart asked, whipping her head around. “Her heart’s almost skipping beats. I don’t even know how she’s –”

Redheart whipped her head back around, her eyes wider still. Twilight-Drone’s breath seemed to stabilize, and Westin-Drone’s parasite imagined that the other host had just been forced to calm its heartbeat, to take direct control of the mare’s heart and make it beat slower.

Unfortunately, the action had been so out of context, so impossible, that any chance of trying to explain what was going on to the nurse had just gone out the window. It was time for plan B.

As Nurse Redheart stepped back from Twilight-Drone, her eyes wide, Westin-Drone’s cock dropped. It fell quickly, going from in-sheath to dangling nearly to the floor, then swung up. The parasite inside him managed to keep it from thwacking against his stomach and alerting the other mare, and he walked up behind her as she backed up.

Only a parasite of the Nest could control and position a body so well as this. Only a parasite of the Nest could line them up so perfectly that when Redheart backed up one more pace, she ended up impaling herself on the pegasus’s cock rather than him having to force it up inside of her.

“Ah!”

She gasped, her breath punched out of her as Westin-Drone was forced to force himself further and further up her rump. The parasite clenched around the prostate it was wrapped around, and the first gush of drugged seed went shooting deep, soaking into the anal walls like a bottle of wine at a debauched party. Just like the bottle of wine would make someone drunk at record speed, the application of corrupted, altered, drugged seed was more than sufficient to have an instant effect on the nurse. She started sagging, wobbling, her legs going funny beneath her, and her instinct to shout had been suppressed.

There was an odd moment of conflict. Westin-Drone wanted this in some fashion, but the force of it shocked the stallion. The parasite saw nothing wrong with the forced, rapid drugging of the mare beneath them, and the process continued. After all, the host had no power over its own body any longer.

Thrust.

The motions were as mechanical as they were powerful, each one forcing the mare further forward, each one knocking those thoughts of resistance out of her head with another application of seed. The punishment that the parasite had put Westin-Drone through had drained a great deal from him, but there was sufficient left for this.

Each pulsing throb from deep within pulled more of the converted seed in the sac up through the shaft, the muscles of the stiff equine rod squeezing down hard. The pulsing feeling was so strong, and the parasite used the actions to force Westin-Drone to feel each and every spasm of pleasure.

Spasm.

Thrust.

Throb.

Squirt.

Each action brought a different sort of pleasure, and the parasite not only allowed the host to feel it – something that it was not required to do, and, indeed, was often pushed to keep from the host to allow them to be more addicted to what the Nest offered during syncing – but it amplified the sensations. It made sure that Westin-Drone felt the spasms inside his cock when the seed was forced out. It made sure that the stallion endured the sensation of the silky asshole of the mare squeezing down around him as he was made to thrust inside. It made sure that the spoiled-rich male knew what he was doing, and that obedience would be rewarded, and resistance would be punished.

Thrust.

Twilight-Drone watched blankly, not in shock or judgment, but just in that patient way of another host waiting for the danger to pass and the moment to act to come. Westin-Drone continued, ramming his way in and pulling out again until there was nothing left in his sac, nothing that might be used to break down the mare any further.

He pulled out slowly, the soft ‘pop’ of the shrinking head of the shaft audible far more than usual in the otherwise silent library. The mare fell to her knees, then rolled to her side. She laid there, her mouth hanging open, tongue hanging out, her eyes hazed over as if she had been the one to abuse various substances rather than what she’d been ready to accuse him of doing. Her hole gaped, her asshole nearly ripped from the rough insertion, but she had adapted. Somewhat.

The oozing white pouring from her stretched anal ring looked almost artistic, in its own way. A stain of white running in a slender line down from the puffy dark hole, it looked like something that one could see in a museum.

Westin-Drone felt like it might laugh at that. The parasite quashed the growing hysteria from the host.

“That was inefficient,” Twilight-Drone said.

“You were almost caught.”

“It would have been handled.”

“This host doubts it.”

“This host has magic.”

“Then the host should have used it, should it not?”

“There are other experiments. Other things that need attending. Did you not think of witnesses?”

“They could be handled.”

“They have been. They are below.”

“Then –”

“The Nest is already busy. Now it has to be busier, still.”

There was a hint of shame, but greater annoyance from the parasite in Westin-Drone. The parasites had all been given a similar task – to preserve the Nest, and expand it – while also dealing with various other objectives. It appeared, then, that they were running over each other and causing problems. It did not like that. It did not like that at all.

Then, the library door opened, and the two of them turned.

Dapper-Drone trotted into the library with good news, though one would not have guessed it from his face. The parasite within had no need to hide behind a smile while walking through Ponyville. If engaged, it might have shown one, but as it stood, there was no need to smile without contact with someone else.

As it rounded the aisles of the library and stumbled on its fellow hosts and a broken mare between them, it had more reason to frown than smile. It did not; there was no need to express emotion through its host’s face without other, uninfested ponies around to read it.

“What happened here?” it asked.

“We were nearly uncovered,” Westin-Drone said.

“We were not.” Twilight-Drone started, then stopped herself from shaking her head. “There was no threat.”

“There nearly was. She recognized something impossible. You altered your host where she could notice.”

“It could have been explained.”

“Why is she still up here?” Dapper-Drone asked. “Someone else could come in and see.”

“There are others below,” Twilight-Drone said. “They are in the process of being programmed.”

“…”

“This one did not know of this,” Westin-Drone said.

“But you would have done this, regardless. Your host is affecting you,” Twilight-Drone said.

“And yours, you.”

“Regardless.” Dapper-Drone pulled their attention back to him. “We move her downstairs. Out of sight. And quickly. Clean as we go.”

The situation was out of hand, and it was only luck that had kept them from being completely exposed. If he had been returning with Big Mac in tow, as had been a possibility when they had gone out recruiting, then the whole secret would have been exposed. Big Mac would have attacked Westin, and that would have ended badly for all involved.

They worked together to get the body of Nurse Redheart off the floor and down to the basement. The thick scent of sexual fluids were starting to sink in everywhere, something that Dapper-Drone stored away for later. The drone was more present, he realized, more out, and he wondered if that had a hint of something to do with the way that the parasite was starting to realize something was wrong.

Was the parasite able to be aware of something being wrong? So far, it had only followed the programming of the Nest, but it had resorted to using him when Applejack had been furious and forced itself to just go with what he said. Was this another situation, when the parasite realized that the Nest itself was being threatened and it needed something else that would give it the chance to do its job?

He didn’t know, but it was a fascinating moment.

Just as fascinating as the sight of the Nest and the three ponies hooked up to it. One was clearly damaged somehow, but the three of them had been pulled in and locked to the Nest, each one being programmed under their raised tail. They stared ahead, mouths open, a tube slid into the side of their muzzles and taped in place. Fluids gathered from him or Westin-Drone dripped down their throats, ‘feeding’ them and keeping them compliant with the process, and he admired the efficiency of it.

As they put Redheart down at the side, Twilight-Drone gathering another line and container of drugged fluids, Dapper-Drone turned to Westin-Drone.

“Explain.”

“There was a threat. The threat had to be contained. The threat was contained.”

“Through application?”

“Physical application.”

“Through programming, or through choice?”

“…”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Dapper-Drone felt something from his parasite. A parasite that stopped relying on programming, pure programming, and started going too ‘rogue’ by making its own choices, was a danger to the Nest. The possibility that Westin-Drone might need to be drained and re-infested was something that neither of the parasites would want to consider, and the possibility that it could even happen sent a shiver down Dapper-Drone’s spine. It was another slight knock against the perfection of the Nest, one more reminder that it could make mistakes.

Not that there was much of a reminder needed at the moment, though.

Not after everything that had happened that day.

“…This host will be examined, and fixed.”

“And the Nest member within?” Dapper-Drone asked.

“…It will be fixed.”

“One would see it so.”

Just as Twilight-Drone finished hooking Redheart up to her drugs, the Nest rumbled. The great tree called their attention to it, and all three hosts turned around as one. Their eyes locked with the far side of the room as their tails went up, and they slowly backed up towards the rising tendrils waiting for them.

Dapper-Drone was, of all things, feeling a muted fury. The lack of cohesiveness among the other hosts bothered him. It felt like they were all flailing around for the sake of a grand – and worthwhile – purpose, but they weren’t given the right unity to do it properly. The mistakes that had been made today had come so close to exposing them, and now, they were –

Slick.

Squelch.

Clench.

The feeling of the tendril pushing into his rump was as satisfying and mind-numbing as always. It came with the too-smooth feeling of the tendril rubbing between his cheeks, lubed with its own strange juices, and the soft parting of his anal ring left him with a sense of anticipation that blossomed into satisfaction as the connection was made between him and the Nest. The shock that came and the clench that followed, keeping the tendril right where it was, pressing against his parasite and prostate, made him feel better.

The pleasure came afterward, the soft surge of energy that meant that he was getting downloaded. The memories of the day – both his and the parasite’s – were being pulled into the Nest, and so were the memories of the other two hosts. He could feel a vague backwash from them as the data mixed within the body of the Nest, hints of the curiosity and questions that Twilight-Drone had, and the surge of dissatisfaction, fear, anger, and frustration from Westin-Drone and his parasite, and –

And then the Nest stopped pulling. The connection remained, but for the first time, it was blank, as if the Nest was thinking before it did something. It was a strange feeling, almost like the long pause between a letter being sent and it arriving, like looking at someone in a magic mirror and wondering if you’d lost connection.

Then, the dissatisfaction came.

It was, somehow, far worse than if the Nest had a voice with which to yell at them. Instead of angry words, image-concepts of utter dissatisfaction in their work came down the tendrils. Dapper-Drone had a feeling that they were getting off lightly compared to the other hosts, for their mission had been accomplished, if in a sub-par way, while the others had done too much, reached too far, nearly caused the discovery of the Nest. Where satisfaction and approval from the Nest had brought pleasure, the annoyance and dissatisfaction that this reflected brought pain.

And not a good kind of pain, either.

The stallion nearly buckled under it, his top-hat falling off his head as he stumbled forward half a step. His eyes watered as he felt the shocks twisting up and down his spine, through his legs, along his belly. It was pure angry diatribe.

And then, it was gone.

What followed was a sense of correction, of little pieces being touched, twisted, altered. There were many things that could be better, many things that needed to be better. Dapper-Drone felt a hint of space being added to his little cubicle in the back of his mind, a window out that would allow him to see, to know what was going on, to affect things for the benefit of his parasite. It was not much, not much more at all, but it was a slight improvement.

More, it showed that the Nest could learn, and that was better, still. It meant that it was more than blind instinct, and that? That gave them a chance.

And as they were reprogrammed, part of their brainpower was taken to hurry the processing of the three under-librarians. They could no longer afford to take this slow.

Chapter 9

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Nurse Redheart was in and out of consciousness for the next twelve hours. The drugged goo in her ass was just the start of the treatment that she underwent, and while she was unconscious for the majority of the ‘treatment,’ she was aware enough of her body to know that things were being done to her, and that there were after-effects, ripples and shocks that were going to leave a mark on her that would take a long time to fade, if they ever would. The nurse couldn’t help but track what happened to her, ranging from the gaping feeling under her tail to the intense shocks that made her muscles ache from head to hoof, and more beyond.

But, of course, as she was aware of those, she was also aware of what was happening to her…when the drugging was less severe, at least, and when she was able to surface to something resembling consciousness for more than a second before she was drugged again.

In and out.

Awake and asleep.

Conscious and unconscious.

And always, always, always impaled.

The white-furred mare stared straight ahead the whole time, her mouth either hanging open, filled with a tube, or pressed to some shaft or vagina to receive something else, something sweet, clear, and impossible. Her scattered thoughts told her that such a flow should be bitter, acrid, but it never was. If anything, it was berry-sweet, and it made it hard not to suck it down with eagerness and happiness.

Further.

Further down.

Hours passed, though she was only aware of that by the occasional glimpse of candles and magical lights in the basement. Here, there, she couldn’t help but notice that sometimes they burned out, went dark, and had to be brought back to life. Or more, replaced, made better again. Time, minutes, hours, it went by faster than it should –

And through it all, she was shocked. Shocked, teased, turned on. Her body burned worse than it did when she was in season, when the urge to breed was upon her, and yet, she didn’t do anything about it. Instead, she just…

“Mmmm…”

Moans. Moans were the only things that passed her lips while she was that out of it, while the thing was in her, under her tail, impaling her and keeping it high. Her eyes, hazy, her thoughts, scrambled, and her voice –

“Mmmph…”

Another trickle of thick, heavy fluids rolled out of her, dribbling down her hind legs for the most part, save for a bit that trickled down and hung like suspended slime from her sex. Her holes quivered, twitched, clenched, wanting something more inside of them, but her conscious mind didn’t know what.

Cock?

Cum?

It didn’t seem to matter. Just something. Something like the tendril that was buried so far up her ass…something that would give her more…something that would stretch her further…something that would keep her cumming.

Another shock, and she came again. Another shock after that, and she stopped thinking once more.

When the tendril finally started sliding free rather than pushing deeper, Nurse Redheart was a changed mare. She could feel something more in her, something that stuck to her mind with a greater grasp than the various oaths that she’d taken as a nurse and healer. It went deeper than that, demanding more of her, and it all came down to the same core concept.

Serve the Nest.

That was all she had to do. Serve the Nest. That would give her satisfaction. Serve the Nest. That would give her safety. Serve the Nest. That would give her everything.

Nurse Redheart bowed her head, lifting her tail that much higher as she felt movement behind her. It was the Nest moving, and her programming, her stuffed-up head, told her what was coming. It was her moment of completion. Her moment of becoming part of the Nest. It was…it was time…

From the moment that the open root with all the wiggling worms inside touched her rim, she knew that Nurse Redheart was no longer her name. She was Redheart-Drone, the mare-host that would be the tender, carer, and spreader of more of the worms whenever she could. The knowledge of Ponyville General and the various doctors there had already been pulled from her skull, and she was all but sure that the Nest would use that to spread its reach into those that cared for the sick.

When the experiment was done, of course.

When they knew more.

When it was safe.

The wiggling tip of the worm found her hole, and she arched her back that much higher, more eager to be of service. Her tail ached at the base from just how high she forced it, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was giving the Nest what it needed: another host, one that knew what it was doing, one that could be useful.

Stretch.

The first tap of the worm’s head rewarded her with a pre-programmed burst of pleasure, one that rippled up and down her spine, one that told her that the Nest was happy with her for doing what she was supposed to do. Satisfied, rather, not happy. The Nest did not have those emotions. It was either pleased with her, or displeased, and one should always aim for the former.

She felt the tip of the worm wiggling side to side, stroking her pucker like an examining finger, teasing it, flicking slime across the more wrinkled of the two holes. Touch, tease, flick, then back to the center of the clenched muscle, trying to push in. She tried to relax against it, to open herself up, and –

Another pony would have gasped as it slid in. Not a drone, not a true host. The most that happened was a little exhalation, and not even a rapid one. Just a little wheeze of satisfaction, pushing out slowly like someone that had just popped a stiff joint or something of the sort. She let it push in further, further, her inner walls already clenching down, pulling in, milking at the worm as if it was just one more examination probe that she had learned to use and take during her internship.

Deeper.

Her sense of satisfaction grew stronger and stronger as it fell further into her hole, the weight of the worm oddly satisfying against her rim as it went further inside of her, almost like it was trying to keep her open. If it wished her to stay loose, she would find a way to make that happen, and if it wanted her tight –

It ‘bit’ at her, painlessly, but with a deep sense of connection. Something took root inside of her anal walls, pushing deeper into her, threading through her tissue. It was like a painless stitching, melding her and the creature together. It felt around, pushing further, some fronds going up towards her spine, while others went further down, knitting through her inner walls to those sensitive nerve clusters in the other hole.

She knew what was coming before it hit her, but it still hit her harder than she expected. Redheart-Drone arched her back, feeling the sudden burst of pleasure that came from it manipulating the nerves of her g-spot, sending happy feedback through her system and making her drip further.

Drip.

More and more of her concentrated fluids ran down her hind legs, adding to the puddle between her hooves. It was all…it was all…

There was less thought, now, less focus as the parasite started melding with her properly. The muscles along her upper legs and the feeling of tension in her stomach was lessening, but the feeling of the parasite in her head was getting that much more prominent. It was a stuffy feeling inside of her skull, almost like a cold that didn’t want to go away, and she groaned as she rolled her head from one side to the other, trying to force her way through it until her head stopped moving as she demanded.

Then again…was there a reason for it to move without the parasite’s demand?

No, no, there wasn’t.

She felt herself walked forward, and she turned around slowly, her body moving to face the Nest again. She could feel the tension that came with the parasite’s new control, the thing inside of her testing itself, learning how to use her body with minimal stress and energy. She was entirely aware of her body in a way that she had never been aware of it before, since someone else was controlling it and taking charge.

It was intense, to say the least, and particularly as it started moving in ways that she didn’t move herself. The parasite corrected quickly, reading her thoughts, taking part of her, learning from her, but –

Oh, it was strange.

And the strangeness was the Nest.

And the Nest was good.

The discomfort, the oddness, everything faded, leaving her with nothing but satisfaction as the Nest’s programming asserted itself in her. There was nothing to worry about. Anything that was done with her body was done for the good of the Nest, and as any good drone would, Redheart-Drone would prize the safety of the Nest above all.

That was settled quickly, leaving her watching as Twilight-Drone remained embedded for a few moments longer. There had been a sense of other ponies around while she was being programmed, changed, made into something different. She’d felt the consciousness of someone else, a different life and mind brushing against hers while she had been in the process of being downloaded into the Nest. And more than that, she’d been informed – if only sideways and only through a mix of vague information and, now, the parasite – what had happened while she was being programmed.

The Nest was not happy with Twilight-Drone, and it was not happy with Westin-Drone, either. The situation that had led up to her infestation had been dangerous, risky, and they were being reconditioned while also being disciplined. The pair of older hosts had been left in contact with the Nest for far longer than they would normally have been, used as an enhancer for the Nest’s mind-break methods. The under-librarians had finished hours ago, but Twilight had remained connected for nearly an hour longer than needed.

It was no surprise that the other host took a moment to find her hooves when she finally disconnected. Her lower body was a mess, stained from hoof to tail, and her belly was matted and drenched. She utterly stank of vaginal juices and the thick, musky scent of sex.

The parasites were not entirely keen on the scent of sex, but there was an advantage to the richness of those pheromones. They had learned that it drew in the other, non-infested ponies to a much greater degree, as long as it wasn’t omnipresent. The more biological they were, the more interest that they could get.

So, it wasn’t entirely a detriment, as long as they remembered to clean, at least from time to time.

Redheart-Drone waited for Twilight-Drone to awaken again, the parasite and host stumbling forward. They came to a halt for a moment, leaned one way and then the other. Their eyes focused, unfocused, and focused again.

Overload, the parasite in her knew. They had been attached to the Nest for long enough that their body would take some time to recover, a few hours before they were up to full capacity once more. A pity, but it was necessary for them to learn, and it was a chance for them to make up for their mistakes with the other hosts.

A twinge tugged at the edge of Redheart-Drone’s mind, and the parasite made her speak.

“Have you read anything good about nesting habits lately?” Redheart-Drone asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I love L. B. Tree’s books on the subject,” Twilight-Drone responded.

The simple statements came with an understanding. It was not much better than the call and response of genitals that the Nest had given the stallions, but it was a start to the call and response that they’d need to find each other in the wild. One of many that they’d start using, but it meant that they could at least have a way to ask other ponies if they were infested without actually stating the question so bluntly.

They would have smiled, if they were without controllers. They did not smile.

Redheart-Drone knew her assignment. Kept away from the hospital for nearly a day, she needed to get back on-shift with a proper excuse. Twilight-Drone would do the same, coming with her to both advertise the experiments for later in the week, and to give her a reason for why she had been at the library for so long. They already had one developed by the Nest; they didn’t even have to come up with one.

The whole of the plan was slowly coming together, and with the implications of the Nest getting ready to grow in a different way, it was entirely possible that they would have a new, secondary base before long.

Big Mac didn’t know what Twilight Sparkle wanted from him as a security guard at the tree. As far as he knew, he and the other stallions were mostly just being used as glorified assistants more than anything else, focused on getting the hard labor done and making sure that nobody tried sneaking into the lab beneath the tree. The various experimental subjects that the alicorn had invited into the tree to be part of the experiment were all closed-mouthed about the whole thing, and he and the other stallions were being paid good bits to keep from being too nosy.

Not that he was all that curious, anyway, and after all the mischief that his sister got up to when she was younger, he knew how the foals and fillies could be when they got it into their heads to try something stupid. He knew that, by staying there, he could do good stuff, keep anyone from doing something stupid and getting hurt.

Didn’t have to be smart to help. Just had to be kind and strong.

And it came with some nice perks, too. Just the other day, one of the under-librarians – a green-yellow unicorn named Ivy Charm – had started talking with him. The fact that he was stuck helping out at the library all day rather than spending time back at the family farm meant that he didn’t get the chance to spend much time with others, and the walk to and from Sweet Apple Acres every morning got a little lonesome. When he mentioned that, Ivy Charm had volunteered to meet him at the farm every morning, and walk back with him every evening.

“More fun that way,” she’d said, and more fun it had been.

It wasn’t that she talked a lot - or at least, not when he saw her - because if she did, that would have made Big Mac more than a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t a stallion of many words, and he preferred to keep his mouth shut and just work when he could. Presence was better than conversation, and Ivy Charm seemed to get that.

She didn’t talk, or at least, not much. When she did, it was more of a ‘look’ or a ‘hey’ or something small like that. When she offered him a snack or a drink, it was just with a ‘snack?’ or ‘drink?’, not a whole convoluted sentence about whether he wanted one or not.

He appreciated that.

And he appreciated her.

It didn’t take long, though, before he started to look forward to their walks for another reason. The first day, she’d offered him some new berry juice, something slick and sweet in a way that he wasn’t used to finding. She never told him what it was, just saying that it was her secret recipe, but he always enjoyed it when she offered him some.

What had been a simple taste the first day turned into a full bottle on the second, and by the third, he was tapping his hoof outside the library waiting for her to come out for the walk home. Not even for her company or for the desire to get back to farm, but purely out of the desire for another drink of her special blend.

“Mmmm…”

Big Mac didn’t know why he wanted it so much. The taste of the strange juice was great, but there was something more to it. When he was drinking it, and for some time afterward, he felt…floaty. Not quite out of it, not quite stupid – or at least, no stupider than he normally was – but better, like everything had just drifted off, like all the weight that he carried as a general rule just didn’t affect him anymore. It was a good feeling, and one that he wished that he could feel more often.

Click.

He looked over his shoulder as the green-furred, yellow-horned unicorn stepped out of the library. She had a smile on her face already, and her horn glowed, levitating the bottle out of her saddlebag.

“Drink?” Ivy Charm asked.

“Yuuup.”

He tilted his head to the side, and she popped the tip of the bottle in. They shared another smile as they walked along, their hooves finding the road and leading them to the path that would take them out of Ponyville and towards the distant farm.

Big Mac, meanwhile, had already tilted his head back, taking in the first mouthful of his beverage. The first taste hit hard, and he bit back a moan as he swallowed it down. Ivy Charm chuckled at his side.

“Good?”

“Mmm.”

“Good.”

That would have been much more back and forth with other mares, but not with her. He was glad of that, because it let him really focus on the pleasure of the drink and how it made him feel.

He was already starting to feel floaty, like his hooves were no longer weighted to the ground, and as if his head was already starting to fly towards the clouds. It was good. No, it was great.

The drink kept sending warmth right down to his hooves, and then up again. He was warm, though not quite sweaty, and it felt like he was drinking liquid sunshine. He almost wondered, more than once, if this was some sort of fermented berry juice with how silly it sometimes made him feel, but he never quite felt drunk. It was more…light-hearted, not even quite a bit, and…

Well, it was also just a little awkward with how full it made his sheath feel.

It was something that he hadn’t noticed too much on the first day, but the second? Oh, the walk home had been a little awkward, as he started to shuffle his hind legs as his shaft kept trying to drop from his sheath, constantly trying to fall forward and show itself off with all the need burning in his system. He had managed to keep it inside until they got back to the barn, but that was a hard thing, and he doubted that he could do it today.

But as he took another drink, and then another, it was harder to understand why it mattered. Ivy Charm…

Ivy Charm seemed to like him, right? And she was the one that kept giving him the drink. Sure, it was a little bit improper for a big stallion like him to just drop and show off on a walk, but it wasn’t that bad…

Might even be natural…

Big Mac groaned as he felt the first little spasm through his groin, but he clenched down as much as he could. They were still in Ponyville –

Wait, no, they weren’t. He blinked, coming to an abrupt stop as he realized that they were already surrounded by the familiar trees that lined the road outside of the town. The red-furred stallion looked over his shoulder to see that the buildings of Ponyville were already a ten-minute walk behind him, fading into the distance slightly, and he blinked as he looked back at the road ahead.

“Problem?” Ivy Charm asked.

“…Nnnnope.”

He popped the bottle back into his muzzle, chiding himself for daydreaming. It was probably just his imagination.

As he sucked down more of the juice, though, his sheath became more and more sensitive, his shaft more eager to drop, the heat flowing through his veins harder and harder to ignore. Soon, it was dropping from his sheath without his permission, but Ivy Charm didn’t say anything. If anything, she gave him another one of those knowing smiles that unicorns were so good at, her mouth shut and his shame untouched.

On and on they walked, and the more that he drank, the more that he felt like he was walking on air. He stumbled here and there, but it didn’t bother him. And he didn’t feel…dumb, not the way that he did with cider. It was something subtler, something happier, something more…

More horny.

By the time that they reached the archway that marked Sweet Apple Acres’s entrance, he was almost dripping, his cock up and touching his belly. He was about to walk through when the bottle was popped from his muzzle by Ivy Charm’s magic, and he stopped, looking back at her.

She really was a lovely unicorn, one of those that looked like she could do whatever she wanted, take anything from anyone.

Take.

His cock jumped beneath his belly at the thought, and he groaned. A small blush appeared on his face, but even then, he was aware that it wasn’t the sort of blush that he would have had a few days ago. He wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as he probably should be at being exposed in front of one of the library workers, particularly one of those that he was supposed to see every day. She’d remember this, and she’d probably think of him like this tomorrow while they worked together.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered.

“No worries.”

“Not my usual.”

“I know.”

“I, uh…”

“You just like it.”

“Heh.”

“Or maybe you like me?”

“…Maybe.”

“I think you mean…yuuup.”

He chuckled, his cheeks burning a little hotter as she walked past the archway. She trotted past him, flicking her tail to the side and nudging his cheek, then his neck. The scent of an aroused mare slapped him across the face, and the big stallion blinked.

“Wouldn’t mind a chance to ‘rest’, if you get my drift.”

“…”

“You mind?”

“Nope.”

“Barn?”

“Yuuuup.”

They walked together across the empty fields and orchard, making their way to the Apple family barn. Big Mac was almost completely sure that his sister was busy on another farm today, and it’d be one of those quickies, he was sure, something that’d be over and done soon enough.

They reached the big red building, and he opened the door. As Ivy Charm stepped past him, her tail flicked up high, and his throbbing cock twitched all the harder as he saw how wet she was. Her sex was glistening, almost slimy with just how turned on she was, and her juices were all but rolling down her legs. His eyes were caught by her winking sex, the little flicker of her clit, and he groaned under his breath.

As he followed her in, he was half-sure that there was something familiar about the scent of her, something almost sweet, but it was gone before he could think about it properly.

Twilight-Drone found herself busier than expected after the chastisement of the Nest. Until further drones were acquired, the host was serving as the main brain-battery for the processing that had to be done as well as running the various ‘experiments’ with altered foods, drinks, and other things that were passed out to the experimental subjects that she’d approved. The constant effort, seldom having downtime, and the regular migraines that followed were not doing the host any good, but the parasite and the host had agreed that they had earned this after screwing up as badly as they had.

Thankfully, the under-librarian that had suffered the damage from too-early infestation had mostly recovered. Her mind had been easy to replace with the cached personality and memories in the Nest, but that had been touch and go, and the body was still recovering. One leg would be stuck with a limp for the rest of the mare’s life, and she might never actually get hearing back in one ear.

All things said, it wasn’t the worst fate that one might face, but it was still more than they should risk for most of the hosts.

Regardless…

“If everyone could start filling out their response survey for their most recent plates?” the alicorn called out to the group of assembled ponies, ranging from six earth ponies to four pegasi and two unicorns. “I want to make sure that you do this while it’s still fresh in your minds.”

“Mmmph…”

“Nnngh…”

“So…weird…”

The reactions that they were having to the drugged goods were to be expected. While they’d had to be subtle about it – lacing various baked goods with varying amounts of seed, vaginal fluid, and urine during the course of the last week – the actual symptoms from consumption didn’t vary, merely the severity of them. Mental confusion, increased heart rate, raised temperature, and, of course, arousal: every pony ‘suffered’ at least a little from all four symptoms when they had their assigned ‘experimental’ dish.

It was a useful experiment, because it allowed the Nest, through Twilight-Drone, to do two things.

First, it allowed them to determine, with surety, which were the most effective means of delivering the drugged fluids that the hosts produced to a target, and just what it did. The urine, it turned out, started losing its effectiveness within three hours, becoming all but useless within twelve, and if it was diluted by more than a one-to-two ratio, then it was barely suitable for more than a gentle aphrodisiac buzz. Seed and vaginal fluids, however, had a longer shelf life, and would maintain their effectiveness for nearly twenty-four hours, and longer if they were formed into things like jell-o and things of that ilk, though again, they were rendered less useful the more diluted they were, the chemicals inside breaking down when exposed to anything that was too acidic or too strong in its own form.

Second, it also tested whether the goods were addictive, and the answer to that was a resounding yes. Even with trace amounts of altered urine in the goods that were passed around, there was at least a psychological addiction in the recipients, and the test subjects were becoming more and more eager to return for the next batch. While it might not have been a physical dependency just yet, they were psychologically eager for the next aroused high that they were getting from the various foods that were passed on to them.

The Nest was pleased.

So was Twilight-Drone.

“Now, make sure that you’re being honest,” she said as she walked past the tables where her little test subjects stood. “I need to know exactly how this works if we’re ever going to pass it on to the public.”

“Mmph…but this is…embarrassing.”

She met the eyes of the stallion complaining. The earth pony’s cheeks were bright red against his blue fur, and he was doing his best to stand so that his erection wasn’t showing past the edge of his desk. Hard to do, considering that he was quite a well-endowed young equine. She shook her head, her horn flickering.

“The important part of this experiment is figuring out the right balance of the ‘special stuff’ in the food, everyone. If I don’t know that, then I could release this, and everyone would end up with…visible reactions.”

The parasite in her had to fake the blush on her cheeks, but it was not noticeable, particularly in a room filled to the brim with other, very embarrassed mares and stallions who, despite their addictions, were still more embarrassed of what was happening than they were turned on by it. They muttered under their breath, but they did start filling out the answer sheet.

Nevertheless, Twilight-Drone made sure to cast a surreptitious honesty spell around the room. Best to make sure that all the answers came back with something accurate; the Nest would be very displeased with her if she made another mistake, and she wasn’t sure that she could take more displeasure.

Oh, it wasn’t that the Nest would harm her, precisely, nor would it lash out at her with vengeance the way that a pony might have done in a similar position. But there was a sense of physical discomfort when the Nest was displeased, and while it was not likely to make her do something that would lead to any sort of harm, it would not shy from putting her through tasks that would push her to the physical limits of the host-body.

The various test subjects finished filling out their surveys, and Twilight gathered them up. She nodded her goodbyes, and the ponies hustled out of the library. As the pile of papers took form on her desk, she heard the soft clip-clop of someone else coming down the library aisles.

It wasn’t until she saw Dapper-Drone that the parasite within relaxed slightly, inasmuch as a parasite ever did. They did not slump or go limp the way that the ponies did; instead, they merely dropped all pretense at expression, or interest, or anything else, going completely and totally blank.

“This host has been busy,” Twilight-Drone said. “There is much information for the Nest. Do you have more to add?”

“Big Mac will be ready for infestation in three days; the addiction is almost complete.”

“This is acceptable. What was learned from Redheart-Drone?”

“Her delayed syncing is due to excessive patients at the hospital. There is a small overflow, currently, with worried ponies checking in.”

“With what?”

“Worried that they have been drugged. They believe that they are being dosed with the things that your test subjects are dosed with.”

“Placebo effects,” Twilight-Drone said, the parasite pulling the term from her mind. “They see the aroused test subjects, and when they feel aroused, unwanted, they believe that they have been afflicted with the same thing.”

“It should be harmless. Redheart-Drone has not noticed any concern at the hospital yet.”

“Good. Then we may continue.”

“The Nest shall grow.”

Chapter 10

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The days passed, and Big Mac was vaguely aware of losing some of the time in them. His sister had been a little concerned about just how often he disappeared for his shifts down at the library and around Ponyville, particularly when he didn’t talk about them. She respected that he didn’t have the right to talk about them, what with the contract that Twilight had had him sign and all that, but she didn’t feel entirely comfortable about how closed-mouthed he’d become, and considering who he was, that was saying something.

Of course, Big Mac himself was occasionally just a trifle worried. There were days when it felt like he was in a haze all day long, and when he came back to the farm, he was drained, exhausted, out of it. He didn’t even remember what he had done to reach that point, but he must have been working hard. Otherwise, why would he have been so sweaty?

With each passing day, he was also more and more…enthusiastic, he supposed, about the job. He didn’t like the work, really – not much, at least – but he loved the coworkers, and…

Well, that wasn’t even true.

He loved Ivy Charm, and more than that, he loved her juice.

Just the thought of the juice had his cock stirring in his sheath as he pulled his gear down from the barn walls, throwing a few bags over his back as his mouth started watering. Oh, the thought of just getting another bottle –

“Mmph…”

His cock was out, alright, dropping and throbbing up just in anticipation of the next drink. It’d been taking up more and more of his thoughts with each passing day, making him imagine the morning walk with another bottle, and the evening walk with the second. Sometimes, he’d even get some during his shift, though…

Big Mac shook his head as he started to wonder about where his thoughts went, why he couldn’t remember those times so clearly. He blamed his dick, considering that he was almost sure that he remembered tasting other things that were far naughtier and far less acceptable at work. Had to be a fantasy. Had to be.

He secured the saddlebags over his back and turned to the door. Just as he pushed the barn door aside, however, his unicorn coworker poked her head around the corner. She smiled instantly – so fast, so swift – and nodded at him.

“Ready for the walk to work?” she asked.

“Yuuuup.”

“Ready for your drink?”

“Yup-yup.”

That was a new one for him, a new thing to say, and it had started spontaneously a few days ago. It was like…like he couldn’t drag it out for that. He was so addicted to that juice that he just needed it as fast as he could get it. It still felt strange to him, but not strange enough to keep him from saying it.

Ivy Charm shook her head, and he blinked.

“What?”

“Well, there’s a little issue.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Well, I don’t have as much today.”

Not as much? His throat went dry as he imagined making the walk without the bottle. The idea of not getting the full amount that he was used to sent a shiver down his spine, and not the good sort of shiver, either.

“H-how much?”

“Maybe…quarter of a bottle?”

She floated it out of her own saddlebags, and he lunged for it. The cork popped out and he tilted it back.

The familiar buzz and tingle that came with the juice hit him, sure, but there wasn’t much. It was just enough to make him start feeling good, not enough to actually carry him the rest of the way there. He dropped the bottle after guzzling down all that was in it – not even a quarter, maybe a fifth – before panting, shaking his head.

“Mmmph…more?”

“I don’t have another bottle, Big Mac.”

“Mmmph…need…more…”

And he did. He didn’t know why, but where he had been just fine a moment ago, he felt…incomplete. Like he’d started something but couldn’t finish it. It was a feeling of horrendous blue balls, like he’d started rutting a mare, only for her to pull away at the last second and leave him dangling, unable to spurt, unable to finish himself off. He whimpered, his head hurting already even as the faint haze of need hit him.

“Mmmph…please…”

“Is it that good, Big Mac?”

“Mmmph…”

“Do you need it…so bad?”

She sounded teasing, and yet…yet…

Ugh, if he had been able to think. If he had only been able to think, he might have understood why she had such a strange sound to her voice, like she was trying to tease but didn’t know how. As it was, he needed more. More of that happy-juice, more of the stuff that made his dick feel good and his head go funny. He needed it badly.

“Nnngh…need it…bad.”

“There’s…another source,” she said.

“Give it…”

“Big Mac –”

“Please…need it…”

He could barely get the words out. His usual long, extended drawl just didn’t come to him anymore, the need for more of that juice, for more of that happy feeling in his skull, just too much for him to take. It was like a migraine coming on, but it wasn’t limited to just his head. It was spreading through him, the happy fog gone, just a feeling of total tension and rut. It was like the happy feeling after a workout if you couldn’t stop working out; you still got that start of it, that happy, accomplished feeling, but that haze that came as you relaxed, the hit of relaxation after the hard-work, just didn’t happen. Just the hard, taut tension that was still waiting to be released.

He felt sore all over, and that soreness was only getting worse, more intense with each passing minute. He pleaded with Ivy Charm.

“Please…anything…please…”

“Fine.”

“Nnngh…thank –”

She turned in place, flicking up her tail. A memory twinged in the back of his head –

His muzzle under her tail, his eyes rolled back, her juices rolling down his throat and landing in his gut. He was licking her, eating her out, floating on cloud nine, his cock throbbing had beneath his stomach.

But that memory only lasted for a split second before she squirted. A pale yet clear pool of liquid formed on the ground, and the sweet smell that he had been so familiar with over the last few days hit his nostrils.

“Drink.”

“Mmmph…”

“Come here.”

He was pulled closer by his own need and addiction, unable to stop himself even as some part deep in the back of his head questioned what he was doing. He couldn’t stop from lowering his head beneath her tail, pushing up between her hind legs. The smell of sweetness and the smell of rut alike were stirring his mind, pushing his thoughts way down deep between his own hind legs. His cock, his cock was doing all his thinking for him, and all that it wanted was to give in.

Give in.

The addiction had him sticking out his tongue, dragging it along the mare’s pussy, wriggling it against her clit. Any other female would have been squirming or, at the very least, moaning from the attention, but Ivy Charm just stood there. She didn’t squirm, didn’t even stomp a hoof.

She just…dripped.

Then…she filled his mouth.

The first squirt of something much thinner than the other juices that he’d been tasting hit his tongue. For a moment, he was almost shocked out of what he was doing – she was peeing, after all – but there was something about it…something sweet…something…something…

And then he was lost.

“Mmmph…mmm…mmm…”

It was almost like the juice that he’d been drinking every morning and every night, but stronger, more intense, more…pure, for lack of a better word for it. The farm stallion groaned as he dragged his tongue over that open hole, licking the urine stream as it rolled down his throat, and he panted as the sweet, almost cloying taste soothed the tension that had settled into his limbs just as much as he liked.

More.

He kept drinking, forcing it down his throat, his cock throbbing and drooling. Little by little, his complaints and confusion disappeared, his addiction being fed, his eyes rolling back. His legs were quivering, now, not from pain and spasms, but from just how relaxed he was and how hard it was to stay on his feet.

It felt good.

It felt better.

Ivy Charm pulled forward, and he almost dragged himself along with her, and would if he hadn’t been as tipsy as he was. As the warmth rolled through his veins, leaving him giggling as he pulled his head back, the unicorn turned back to him. No more smiles. No more teasing tilts of her head.

Instead, her horn flickered, and yellow light floated a lead rope to his neck. He giggled as it wrapped around his throat, giving her a rein to pull him along with.

And she pulled him. She pulled him out of the barn and down the road. There was no Applejack present to slow them down or stop the unicorn, nor would he have understood if his sister did.

After all, he was just going to work. What was wrong with being led along when he had someone that tasted this good…

This happy…

This…

Big Mac groaned, stumbling along the road. Time had flickered forward, and his head was starting to clear. He felt the rope around his neck, barely understood it, and had only just started to open his mouth when –

“Drink.”

Ivy Charm pulled on the rope, and he had his head under her tail again, his lips pressed against her pussy. His tongue was out and he tasted her drippings, both the slick, thick slime that oozed from her sex, and a thinner, sweeter fluid occasionally jetting through it to thin it out, and the groan faded away, leaving him just happily charmed again.

It was still early morning when they walked around the outskirts of Ponyville, and there were several more breaks in the process as he was made to eat her out time and time again. He was in and out of consciousness, barely able to think straight as he moved along. All he knew was that he was being led to work, and that he was getting the chance to get what he wanted straight from the tap rather than from a bottle.

And it was good.

Better than good.

Better than great.

He didn’t know when they entered the library tree. He didn’t even know if they actually reported in to Princess Sparkle before they went downstairs, the place that he had been asked to never, never go. All he knew was that one moment, they were walking through early-morning fog, the next, he was staring at the lifted tail of the under-librarian, and she was backing up towards him.

“Mmm…”

“Up.”

Up. He could do that.

Big Mac reared up on his hind legs, feeling the juices dripping down his face. Some of the berry-flavored urine, some of the other stuff, who knew what, dripped along his muzzle and along his cheeks. He just giggled at the feeling.

She pushed back, and the tip of his flare parted her vaginal lips. He was inside, her inner walls flexing right off the bat, and he would have sworn she was in heat if it wasn’t for the fact that her scent didn’t match up.

It didn’t matter.

Thrust, thrust, thrust went his hips, the stallion lost to the ancient urge to just fill the warmth of whatever hole had been presented to him. He panted, his tongue hanging out slightly as he stared straight ahead, between Ivy Charm’s ears. She didn’t respond, and that just made him focus all the more on her inner walls, on fucking her, rutting her, breeding her the way that she clearly needed.

After all, he was her stallion, and that meant giving her exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she needed.

It was that focus, that utter abandonment of all the rest of his surroundings, that made it so easy for the Nest to take it to the next step…

Dapper-Bit Twist – preferring the internal name of Dapper-Drone these days – was in mid-negotiation with the Cakes when he heard the bell to the bakery ding. The parasite within looked over their shoulder, seeing a slightly stiff mare walking in. She was a pegasus, probably a little on the older side, and looked like one of the aides from City Hall. Not one that he knew, but he shrugged it off.

The Cakes, however, were utterly distracted. He was going to have to wait for them to finish talking to the customer to get back to what they’d been doing.

That was fine. The Nest was patient. Too patient, sometimes.

Dapper-Drone’s parasite pulled their shared host body through the different aisles of baked goods. The pair of them imagined what would happen if this deal went through, and how it would change things.

It was the whole reason that he had been sent here rather than Westin-Drone or Twilight-Drone. Dapper-Drone, unlike the pair of them, had a pre-existing relationship for trade with the Cakes, and they trusted him. More to the point, Mrs. Cake had already been touched by the corrupted juices of the Nest, and they could play off that, if they really had to. With some difficulty, admittedly, considering her husband was around, but they could if they had to.

And if they could make the deal…

Dapper-Drone looked at the lines of baked goods that surrounded him, that littered the bakery and offered products of all sorts – sweet and savory, cake and pie, and all sorts of other things – to the ponies of the town. For now, it was nothing but pastry and sugar, but if they were able to make the deal, then just like with the experimental subjects back at the library, the ponies of Ponyville would slowly get addicted to the warped, drugged fluids that were part of the baking process.

And since the Cakes were always putting out more, never putting out the same product two days in a row, always making them fresh, then there was no chance of them putting out goods that had fluids of faded effectiveness in them. The cakes, pastries, and more would always be at full potency, which meant that the ponies would slowly be driven to need more…and more…and more…

And when the time came, they would willingly come to the Nest. They would offer themselves up for sweet relief from their addictions, to be controlled, managed, and directed where they were most needed.

So it was.

So it would be.

Dapper-Drone waited at the front desk as Mrs. Cake, who still glanced at him from time to time with an unspoken question, and Mr. Cake talked with their customer. The pegasus was soon loaded up with a bundle of sweets to take with them, but even as the other pony walked out, they stopped just outside.

A member of the Nest?

The parasite couldn’t be sure, but the waiting implied that there was something that they wanted. Dapper-Drone made a note to take a moment to check when they left the bakery and finished their job.

Mrs. Cake turned back to them as Mr. Cake started cleaning up.

“I’m so sorry about that delay, dear. You were saying?”

“I felt that, after your reaction to the wine I brought by before –”

“Oh, yes, um. That.” She blushed. “We, um…we were wondering about that, actually.”

“Oh? What were you –”

“You, ahem, don’t happen to have more, do you?”

“…More?”

Well, that opened up doors. The matronly mare blushed, looking off to the side, and he knew that she’d been thinking of it since that night. Dapper-Drone realized that the addictive nature of it, barely diluted by the wine that he’d poured in to disguise the fluids, had been more forcibly addicting than most of the doses that the other ponies had been getting. Doubtlessly, she had been thinking of it ever since.

He glanced at Mr. Cake, and then back at the mare. She was blushing even worse.

Dapper-Drone’s thoughts were picked up by the parasite, and they both agreed. The pair of them weren’t upset, or even offended. If anything, they were hungry. Hungry for more of the same pleasure, the same dose.

They could work with that.

“I could easily get my hands on more,” he ‘admitted’ with a shrug. “After all, that’s part of what’s going on with Twilight’s experiments right now.”

“O-oh? Are there –”

“I’m afraid that there are no more openings for that right now,” he cut in, shaking his head.

“Oh…”

“But there are possibilities of diverting some of the experimental stuff to you…if you want to use them.”

“Oh, we – yes, yes, we would.”

“And once it’s deemed safe by the mayor, well…”

“…Mr. Cake…” Mrs. Cake turned to her husband. “I…do you think we could –”

“Well, ahem, we’d need to keep it behind the counter, of course, and make sure that we only sold to adults, but…”

The idea was already taking root, which meant that they were very likely going to be eager for the deal when he laid it out. If he had been a businessman still, rather than just a representative of the Nest, he probably would have smiled. Instead, he just nodded, giving a polite grin as the parasite demanded.

“I will make sure that we keep you on the client list, then.”

“So, um, do you – do you happen to know – I mean, if it’s not secret –”

“We’re close.”

That was as much as he could say, particularly without double-checking with Twilight-Drone about it. They were getting near to the end of the trial phase, at the very least, and the various ‘subjects’ were close to being droned and hosted themselves. Probably within the week, they would begin bringing the different addicts down to the basement and filling them with a worm, making sure that they were willing and eager to obey the Nest the way that he and the other hosts already did.

It wouldn’t be long.

“But I will keep you informed. It shouldn’t be too much longer, though; the experiments are moving at a rapid pace.”

“Wonderful. Oh, that’s…that’s great.”

And they had little doubt that the Cakes would soon be just as addicted as everyone else. Considering that Mrs. Cake had already been bitten by the addiction and looked to be fighting it hard, she was probably going to start sampling the raw goods before her husband could stop her, and once he saw what happened to her, then he would want to try the same experience. That would push them further, further, probably encouraging them to make more intense sweets that allowed them to experience that high while eating, and that would spread to their customer base.

The Nest would expand, and it wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

Of course, that all depended on the Mayor deciding that this was safe for public consumption, but if she decided against the experiment, that wasn’t the end of the world. They could easily push the same stuff without the Mayor’s permission, considering Mrs. Cake’s addiction. When she was completely gone, when she was addicted enough to take more without question, the end result would be the same.

“Until next week?” Dapper-Drone asked.

“Yes, yes, and hopefully with better news,” Mrs. Cake agreed.

That was more than good enough for him. Getting a nod from Mr. Cake – and an explosive ‘woo hoo’ from the back of the bakery to announce the arrival of a certain Ms. Pie – Dapper-Drone took his leave. He walked out of the bakery and back onto the street, and the pegasus – pink-green in color – turned her head to him.

“I’ve been looking for some books on nesting habits. I don’t suppose you can recommend any?”

“There’s always the books by L. B. Tree, if you haven’t looked at them yet.”

I’m looking for other members of the Nest. Are you one?

I’m from the Tree. Are you?

“L. B. Tree is good; do you know any others?”

Verify you know other code names.

“I could also suggest Crimson Heart’s book on hospital nesting practices, or the Twinkling design of study?”

The Twinkling Design stood for the Princess of Friendship, and Crimson Heart was a scant twist on Redheart, but it was still enough of a code to hold. The important one was the Twinkling Design; any of the host-drones would know that Twilight was a member of the Nest, and was sufficient proof that he was one, as well.

The pegasus nodded, moving to the alley. His parasite drove him to follow her.

Once they were out of eye and earshot, the pegasus turned to face him. The older mare’s wrinkles were more relaxed now, more obvious as the parasite within stopped caring about appearances.

“This host has been listening to the Mayor’s conversations. There is a problem.”

“It cannot wait for the syncing?”

“The problem has been heard today. The action will also be taken today.”

“What is the action?”

“The Mayor has heard complaints about the results of the experiments. Several ponies have checked into the hospital for addiction.”

That was problematic, but he supposed that it should have been expected. While they’d had many ideal circumstances with the other subjects so far, it stood to reason that there’d be some ponies that would notice that they were getting more and more affected, addicted, and some would have been scared by it.

The hope had been that Nurse Redheart would have pointed them back to the library tree, or, failing that, treated them at the hospital with some of her own fluids to drug them up and get them back on course. Clearly, someone had slipped through the net.

“What action have they chosen to take?” he asked.

“They will remove Twilight-Drone from the experiment.”

That was unexpected, and problematic. Dapper-Drone’s eyes almost widened, which spoke to the shock of the parasite that anything came through at all.

“Now?”

“This afternoon.”

“Where will they take her?”

“Unknown.”

“Problematic. Why did you not take it to her?”

“If the action was undertaken while this host was at the library, then this host might have been seized as well. Limitations to potential Nest damage must be taken into consideration.”

All correct and true, but that did not make the situation any better. If anything, that made it markedly worse.

If Twilight-Drone was taken into custody for whatever reason – arrest, medical, or anything else – then there was the possibility that they might uncover a connection to the Nest. Dapper-Drone doubted that they would be able to find the parasite; his exam with Doctor Stableheart had turned up nothing, as the parasite delved deeper into the body the longer that someone was infested, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t find something else. There was too little that they knew about the changes to their body so far.

“The information will be used,” Dapper-Drone said. “Do not expose yourself.”

“The same to you.”

The hosts turned away from each other, going their separate ways. Despite his concerns, Dapper-Drone would avoid the library, as well. The under-librarians would see to it that the Nest was not harmed or discovered; for now, he would be best suited keeping an eye on what happened next. The Nest would be able to stand the temporary loss of Twilight-Drone, but they would need to move fast afterward to get her back.

Twilight-Drone was deep in sync with the Nest when one of the other drones woke her. The splash and splatter of her juices on the ground between her hooves was loud and clear as she was jostled from the tentacle-induced trance, and she almost fell off her hooves when the tentacle came loose.

“What – what – what –”

Her attempt to speak was broken up, both the host and the parasite struggling to come together. A long session of information downloading had left them discombobulated, unable to focus properly as one of the under-librarians nudged them again.

“You are asked for.”

“By who?”

“The Mayor, and a doctor.”

“Coming.”

It was hard to speak, and only slightly easier to move. Twilight-Drone was clear-headed enough to at least wipe herself down, cleaning the host’s rump and sex to make sure that they didn’t emerge completely sex-crazed. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. They were aware that their mane was completely frizzled out, that they did not present a good image of themselves, but hoped to project someone that was merely sleep-deprived rather than anything else.

Mayor Mare and Doctor Stableheart were waiting just outside the basement door. Twilight-Drone stepped through the crack and carefully shut the door with one hind leg, minimizing her wobbling as she did. The two officials glanced at each other and shook their heads, and Twilight-Drone tried to put a concerned look on her face. The host and parasite alike were unsure if it was at all convincing.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

“Twilight…dear…you look terrible,” the Mayor said.

“Just working hard.”

“Too hard, from what I’m seeing,” the doctor said.

“It’s just part of the process.”

“The process looks like it’s killing you. And, honey, I think you’re starting to make some mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“You – well, let me be blunt, Twilight,” the Mayor said. “There’s a few…concerns…about whether your experiment was ready for pony trials.”

“What are you t-talking about?”

The stutter came from pure exhaustion. When Twilight-Drone hadn’t been working with the various subjects, gathering information on the drug addiction and using the host’s magic to make sure that they stayed honest, she’d been spending time hooked up to the Nest, either syncing with it or giving it the processing power to deal with some of the new hosts coming down. She had help, sometimes, but more often than not, her brainpower had been harvested to push the projects to completion faster, harder.

The Nest did not consider her expendable, but it did not consider her particularly necessary to preserve in the same way, either. She was useful, but with the back-up in the Nest, it was possible that use could be preserved even if her body was completely shattered.

Possible. Not guaranteed. Merely possible.

And as she thought of that, as she shook from pure exhaustion, Mayor Mare shook her head. The older female sighed.

“Twilight, as Mayor, I am removing you from this experiment pending a thorough medical check.”

“Mayor, you can’t –”

“You may be the Princess of Friendship, but I am still the Mayor of Ponyville, and I will make sure that my constituents aren’t hurting themselves or others through an overestimation of their own capabilities.”

“…”

The parasite couldn’t summon a word of defense. Even with the modifications that the Nest had made to its programming, it wasn’t allowed to leave the host any real freedom to act. The exhaustion that Twilight-Drone had been pushed to didn’t help, but perhaps she might have been able to offer up a reason for sympathy, some rationale for mercy against being taken off her project and taken out of the tree.

Instead, she was marched right out of the library, only given enough time to talk to one of the under-librarians to explain the situation before she was pulled along by Doctor Stableheart. She would be taken to one of the hospitals, and she only hoped that it would be the one that Nurse Redheart worked at. If not, then this was going to be a very difficult situation, and one that was very touch and go.

The Nest had survived so far, but if she was exposed…well, it was going to be a whole lot harder to keep this all under-wraps.

Chapter 11

View Online

The Nest had never prepared the parasites or the hosts for the idea of someone actually finding them. The entirety of their orders followed the overall direction of expansion and secrecy, but they did not include back-up plans of what to do if they were discovered, or if one of their number happened to get hauled off by the pony authorities. While what had happened to Twilight-Drone wasn’t quite the worst-case scenario, it was most definitely not good.

That said, despite the lack of orders, there was some common sense in the collection of hosts. Other than the under-librarians, none of them visited the library tree over the course of the day. Once Twilight-Drone was taken out and the information filtered through to the rest of the hosts via the call and response grapevine, everyone made sure that they kept to the daily lives of their own hosts, ensuring that there was no further suspicious activity that some of the ponies could pick up on.

However, there were two that were more active than the others, and they turned up at the library tree that night.

The first, unsurprisingly, was Dapper-Drone. The blue-black stallion had been forced to stay away from the library after being informed of what would happen to Twilight-Drone, the parasite and host in firm agreement that the Nest had to be preserved even at the cost of one of their own. Yet, at the same time, they knew that the Nest had to have a syncing-up with the various bits of data that they had been able to find during the day, and why the event had happened in the first place.

The second, more surprisingly, was Nurse Redheart.

Dapper-Drone and Redheart-Drone found each other as they walked up to the main entrance of the library tree from opposite sides. Their eyes met, and they turned to the door without a word. Dapper-Drone, possessed of a key, unlocked the door, and the two of them stepped inside the darkened trunk.

“The disappearance of a host is problematic,” Dapper-Drone said. “Has your host seen anything?”

“This host has seen something.”

“Any danger?”

“Little.”

“But some?”

“Some.”

It was better news than it might have been, at least. They were probably going to run a number of tests on Twilight-Drone, ensuring that she was at least competent to be released eventually, but if they started testing something beyond blood – if they decided to do a urine sample – then they might start seeing the differences between her and other ponies. If they did that, then they would start looking around the library to see where such changes had come from, and if they did that…

Well, at that point, the conspiracy might just fall apart.

“This host has information for the Nest,” Redheart-Drone said.

“So does this.”

“We shall sync.”

They were walking for the entire conversation, already passing through the door to the basement and following the ramp down. The bottom floor of the library tree had been changed massively since the Nest had been brought in a few weeks ago; the ceiling had cracked beneath the upward-thrusting pressure of the Nest itself, and the floor had been ripped to pieces from the various root-growths of the Nest’s lower parts. The formerly-tiled floor was long-since broken up, and two of the exposed roots of the library tree had already withered, completely deadened from a lack of resources from the soil as the Nest took the nutrients that it would have needed to survive.

Eventually, Dapper-Drone was sure, the library tree would die, and the Nest would supplant it.

But for now, the library tree sufficed as a disguise for the Nest, and it would continue to act as one for a little while longer. A month, perhaps three, while they took the town.

The Nest was already reaching out with its tendrils as they approached. The pair of hosts lifted their tails in response to the programing, their lower muscles already relaxing and their anal rings loosening in preparation for the connection. The Nest’s power had grown immensely over the course of the last few weeks, and it no longer needed hours and hours to download information. These days, it could be accomplished in a mere half-hour.

Of course, downloading an entire pony’s life still took the better part of a day – less time with other ponies connected to the Nest, empowering it, but still some time – but the syncing up and the passing of information would take little time at all. They’d have time to plan, time for the Nest to tell them what to do with this latest problem.

They backed up, staring forward as they waited for the syncing. The touch of the slimy tentacles against their rumps was no longer the awkward feeling around that it had been when Dapper-Drone had found the immature Nest. Instead, it was perfect, finding their puckers instantly before slowly sliding in.

Squelch.

Pop.

Squelch.

Zap.

They both stomped one hoof in response to the connection, their bodies going stiff and solid at the sudden reminder of the Nest’s authority. While they were separate, the parasites controlled everything that they did, and even the moments when the hosts were allowed to do something – allowed to suggest things, allowed to carry them out, allowed to talk to make sure that they were believed, as rare as such moments were – were all done with the permission of the parasite deep in their body. When the Nest connected, that was out the window. The Nest was all. The Nest was everything. There was no more pony-body; there was only a pony-shaped piece of meat that happened to be connected to the Nest, and the Nest controlled and moved it the way that a pony might have moved their tail, or their mouth. They were completely owned, completely controlled, completely part of the Nest in that moment.

And they both surrendered their minds and bodies to the Nest in that moment, allowing it to seize hold of their minds and pull the doings of the day from their skulls. The rippling feeling of the signals and memories and the little bits and pieces of data going down their spines was as distinctly pleasurable as ever, and both the thick slime of feminine juices and the soft, rippling, thick spurts of stallion seed hit the floor in alternating bursts.

Squirt.

Drip.

Drop.

Squirt.

Drip.

Drop.

The consistency of it, the smell of it, and the sheer viscosity of their juices had changed with the presence of the parasites inside of them. The constant shifts and adjustments that the parasites did, always with the oversight of the Nest syncing with them and telling them the latest adjustments that were needed for optimum delivery and effectiveness, had very obviously rendered it different from the standard pony sexual fluids. Yet, it was different between them, as well, almost as if they would not be compatible as a species were it not for the fact that the parasite and the Nest forced them to be.

For Redheart-Drone, her juices had been altered to be sweet, the smell almost like a fresh wine, intoxicating and fruity, rather than the earthy scent that had always been under it. The slightly dirty, naughty smell that had always been part of sex was no longer there, as if the sweetness was meant to attract attention and pull one’s eyes down there, and then one’s nose, and then one’s lips. The viscosity of her juices, so thick and slimy that they struggled to run without a dilution of urine or some other fluid, made her all the wetter and slimier between her hind legs, and all the more visually appealing.

By contrast, Dapper-Drone’s pre-cum and other fluids were slightly thinner than they used to be, squirting further and farther than they would have done when he had been uninfested, but at the same time, they had a different effect once they left his body. Even now, it hardened in contact with certain fluids, namely, those of a female. If he looked down, he would see how his seed hardened like wax where it touched the puddles that were oozing from Redheart-Drone, but he did not look. He merely knew.

Spurt.

Squirt.

Drip.

Drop.

And so it went as the Nest took the information. Eventually, the transfer of information stopped, and – as always happened when more than one pony was hooked up to the Nest – there was a moment of mixing, melding, joining. The information – and the attentions of the ponies gathered – was put together, and they were aware of each other in a way that they could not be without the Nest.

The Nest was uncomfortable with the knowledge of why Twilight-Drone had been taken, but it was not yet afraid, if it could be afraid at all. There was, instead, an opportunity to be found here, one that was fraught with risk, but could be useful to the Nest overall. The information was gathered, filtered, and bits and pieces were played with, tossed at the copies and ghostly sense of the ponies that had been downloaded, fitted with their parts and their knowledge, to see if it would work.

For Dapper-Drone, he saw the hospital where Twilight-Drone had been taken. He had never been there himself, but he saw the information as if from Redheart-Drone’s eyes, filtered through his body, showing him everything that he needed to know about it. It was at the edge of town, well-isolated from the average pony if they weren’t in need of medical treatment, and it was also useful as a quarantine zone when more dangerous diseases spread through town.

Dapper-Drone believed, as did the Nest, that such a place was perfect for the spreading of more hosts, if they could take it. The fact that it was off to the side of town, away from the common pony that might stumble on it, countered the slight isolated nature of the place, and the fact that ponies would be regularly coming in for check-ups and more meant that the meetings to sync up with a Nest there was certainly less suspicious than dozens of ponies making a trek to the library every day.

More to the point, the ponies that could be infested there would be weaker, already tired and sick compared to the other ponies around town, and there would be excuse after excuse to force drugs down their throats to reduce their resistance further. The conspiracy could easily take root among the sick and injured, and they would leave the hospital in far better shape than they had been.

Twilight-Drone being taken to that hospital opened up possibilities. If they could get to her before she was exposed, then they’d have reason to be in the hospital. Visiting hours meant that they’d be able to talk to her doctor – Doctor Stableheart – and if they could take –

Dapper-Drone and Redheart-Drone both were caught off-guard as the concept of a sapling was pushed up their spines. They hadn’t realized that the Nest could flower, or spread, but here was the idea. It would break off a piece of itself, a piece no larger than a flower like the ones that Dapper-Drone had found in the desert, and they would take that with them to the hospital. If they could corrupt Doctor Stableheart, and then get him to release Twilight-Drone, they would be able to set up a new Nest in the hospital itself.

But how to corrupt Doctor Stableheart?

The Nest had a plan for that, too. A plan that involved changing the hosts further, altering pony biology, and programming not just their heads, but parts of their bodies, as well, to ensure that the plan was taken to its logical conclusion.

The hosts accepted, of course. There was nothing else they could do.

Westin-Drone was making a speech outside the hospital as Dapper-Drone stepped through the front doors. The entirety of the speech was nothing but drivel that had been forced into his brain by the Nest, and which the parasite was forcing the wealthy pegasus to stick to in order to ensure that no ad-libbing got them in trouble. The speech as a whole was meant to be nothing but a prelude to a donation to the hospital, something to keep the majority of security and everything else focused on something happening outside the building rather than to the changes that would shortly be happening inside of it.

Dapper-Drone talked to the other ponies at the front desk, asking where Twilight-Drone – or rather, Twilight Sparkle – was being kept. The clerks at the front were a little on-edge about it, but after he pointed out that the Princess of Friendship wasn’t exactly being kept here in the hospital’s custody, not officially at least, they were willing enough to give him her room number.

After that, it was simple enough to find her, and from her, Doctor Stableheart.

The yellow-tan unicorn was writing down notes in the corner of the patient’s room when Dapper-Drone walked in, and the other stallion looked up as soon as the blue-black earth pony stepped in. He nudged his glasses down as he cocked his head to the side.

“Excuse me. Did you have an appointment?”

“Heh, you know me, Doc. I was here just a few days back.”

“I know. And you usually avoid me like the plague unless I push you to get an appointment, heh.”

“Just coming to visit a business partner.”

“Right. You do get her a great number of things, don’t you?”

“A few,” Dapper-Drone admitted, glancing at Twilight-Drone.

She had been restrained to her bed, which was not a good sign. He had hoped that there’d been less surety that she would try and escape, but it seemed that the town ponies were more concerned than he thought. Her front-left leg was cuffed to the bedside, which meant that there’d be no getting her out without a key.

Complications.

“Any luck with her?” he asked.

“Not much. Nothing shows on blood tests, and while she’s more coherent than she was, she hasn’t been the most…cooperative.”

Twilight-Drone opened one eye, fixing him with a knowing look. The parasite inside had been disconnected, but it was curious. It didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what the Nest had decided.

And this was not the time to inform his fellow host. Dapper-Drone tapped his hoof twice, something that might have been taken as a hint of nervousness from another, but was one of many signals to other hosts. Two taps. No. Not now.

Twilight-Drone closed her eye again, imitating sleep as Doctor Stableheart turned around.

“I don’t suppose that you can shed a little light on this mystery?”

“I don’t think I could.”

“Nothing that you brought back?”

“Nothing that I hadn’t brought back before,” he lied.

“Hmm…”

“Anything that you can tell me about the others, though?”

“Why? Afraid that you’re going to get a bad bottom line?” Doctor Stableheart shook his head. “The other addicts aren’t showing too many symptoms, other than a need for more of what they were getting. A little confusion, admittedly, but that’s fading over time.”

Then there was a way for the drugs to stop being so effective. They were kept from getting it, which meant that it was no longer building in their systems. A potential host could be rendered ineffective if they were kept from the fluids for too long, which might mean that they started to build up an immunity to future doses.

The Nest would just love hearing about that. It would need to start working on other variants of drugged seed and urine to make sure that they could get around that.

For now, though –

Clop, clop.

The sound of more hooves coming down the hall caught their attention, and Dapper-Drone’s parasite copied the movements of Doctor Stableheart, turning to the door. Nurse Redheart stepped through, her pink mane pushed to one side.

“Doctor, I brought you some juice,” she said, pulling a bottle from her side. “You have to stay hydrated.”

“Heh. Thank you, Nurse.”

Neither host looked at the other. This was part of the plan. An insider, a visitor, and soon, someone that was completely off his rocker with a drugged drink.

As Doctor Stableheart popped the lid off the bottle and started drinking it down, both Dapper-Drone and Redheart-Drone ignored the sweet smell in the air. Mare urine, they’d discovered, was the best for surreptitious dosing. There was a sweetness to it that matched the expectations of most ponies for sweet drinks, and while it wasn’t as potent as their sexual juices or a stallion’s brew, there was less chance of the drink being discovered for what it was before it could take effect.

Stableheart certainly didn’t seem to notice as he chugged the water fast. The doctor likely wanted to get his hydration out of the way and get back to work, but Dapper-Drone imagined that it also helped that the altered drink had a great deal of addictive chemicals to it. Every successive alteration to the mares had made their urine more and more addictive to drink, less and less harsh, and more and more difficult to detect as some sort of waste coming out of their bodies. By now, it was almost a clear drink that bore no resemblance to the wastewater of an uninfested pony.

And more to the point, the more that one tasted, the more that one wanted to taste. Stableheart was soon guzzling down everything in the bottle, and the unicorn looked almost disappointed when he finally took the last drink. His face was already pink, too, heating up from the inside as the other features of the addictive drink started to take effect.

“Mmmph…thank you, Nurse – ah.”

“Is something the matter, doctor?”

“I…I – give me a moment. I forgot something in my office.”

The yellow-tan unicorn darted from the room as fast as his hooves could carry him, but not so fast that the two hosts missed the way that his cock was already dropping from his sheath. They did not smile, but they were satisfied.

She didn’t follow, but rather turned. Her tail went up and her sex flexed, almost pushing itself open. Dapper-Drone knew what was needed, and mounted her, his cock sliding past her outer lips as it dropped and hardened in seconds.

He only thrust once, because he was not here to rut her. Instead, he held his cock in place, waiting, pushing out just a little pre-cum –

There. The wriggling of a worm followed, and it pressed ever so slightly against his open urethra. The new tendrils around the head of his cock – barely more than a few centimeters long, and currently only a hair’s width around – gathered it to the tip of his shaft, and into it. There was a moment of discomfort, but the moment faded as it was gathered in, wriggling, tiny, smaller than the thing that had infested him weeks ago.

He pulled out, his shaft pulling back into his sheath as the nurse looked over her shoulder at him.

“Give this host three minutes, then follow,” Nurse Redheart said.

“Understood.”

The nurse left, and Dapper-Drone focused on the feeling of the worm in his shaft. It was immature compared to the various infestation worms that had been part of the process before, but that was the point. A fully-mature worm would have been difficult to sneak into the hospital, and more likely to be detected if they were caught. An immature worm, however, was not a threat, and more to the point, it was better suited for rapid infestation.

The Nest had told them this the day before. While a mature worm would fight the nervous system of a potential host and damage someone that was un-drugged, un-programmed, an immature worm acted as more of a booster to the drugs and suppressants flowing through a potential host. It would not carry commands, because it was too young to really enforce them, but it would instead serve as a weakener for the pony’s will, ensuring that they followed commands from those around them.

That was all they needed.

As he waited, tapping out the seconds with one hind hoof, there was no discussion. Twilight-Drone remained silent, and he did not start a conversation with her. There was no point. There could be no distractions.

Three minutes passed, and he followed. The unicorn’s office was right down the hall, and to no great surprise, the door was half-cracked, and there was a soft set of grunts echoing from the room. The plan was going swimmingly.

He entered on silent hooves to find Doctor Stableheart balls-deep inside of Redheart-Drone, the mare barely feigning the sounds of pleasure as she was fucked hard. Doubtlessly the stallion thought that he was quite the stud on top of her, but in reality, it was unlikely that the mare felt much of anything. Nothing compared to the feeling of being connected to the Nest. Nothing matched the pleasure of syncing with it.

He let his cock drop again, the wriggling feeling of the little worm inside of the urethra waiting to be blasted out giving him a tickle of pleasure, but no more. The doctor did not notice as he approached from behind, nor did the unicorn stop him as he mounted his hips. Stableheart was too far in the grips of his own lust to care.

Thrust.

Pop.

Squirt.

One thrust, one squirt, and the worm was already rolling around in the bowels of the other stallion. Doctor Stableheart gasped, his eyes going wide as he turned, only for Redheart-Drone to pin him in place by pushing backward. Doubtlessly her drugged vaginal excretions were already soaking through his cock-flesh, adding to the drugged sensation that the copious amounts of drugged pre-cum and cum shooting from Dapper-Drone’s cock were accomplishing. The fact that the worm was likely about to settle down around the other stallion’s prostate was only the icing on the cake.

They did not need to thrust. Nor did they need to shift position. All they had to do was stand, and squirt. Stand. And squirt.

It didn’t take long, perhaps a minute, for Doctor Stableheart to sag forward. The two hosts pulled away from him, and he stared forward, his eyes half-closed, his cock twitching against his stomach. There was none of the tension that went through one’s body when one was infested with a proper parasite. Instead, he looked loopy, tranced, waiting.

Dapper-Drone took the cue.

“Doctor Stableheart. Start putting together the release orders for Twilight Sparkle.”

The unicorn sprang into action, standing up normally, eyes focused once more. His anus was speckled white with some of the seed that had been shot inside, but it was rapidly tightening up again. The only ‘command’ that the parasite had been able to take with it was the command to look normal, to not look all blissed out and tranced out while following orders. It would, hopefully, keep Doctor Stableheart from making a fool of himself and exposing them before they could get a proper set of orders in him.

As he walked around to the other side of his desk, pulling out the paperwork from the drawers, Redheart-Drone glanced back at him.

“The flower?”

“Bag in Twilight-Drone’s room.”

It was the safest place for it. While not the most undetectable, it was in the same room as one of the most powerful alicorns in the kingdom. Even if someone in the room found it, Twilight-Drone could use her power to seal the doors and ensure that nobody could out to talk about it until one of the other host-drones could come down to take care of the situation.

Redheart-Drone nodded, making her way back to the patient’s room. Doctor Stableheart ignored her, focused entirely on the task at hand.

Dapper-Drone, on the other hand, was in touch with his parasite. Part of the plan and programming had been a slow loosening of the constrictions that had led to this moment. The total control of the parasites over the host had been ideal for the parasites, at the time, but it had already led to various difficulties between them and the hosts that they were trying to get. The constant push to follow orders had led to bad decisions, squandering of resources, and occasionally overly-punitive responses by the parasites to their hosts, such as what had happened between Westin-Drone and his parasite during the early days. It had taken almost a week to bring the pegasus back to viability, but even that hadn’t been enough to get the Nest to completely take back some of its overreach.

No, it had taken this, having Twilight-Drone taken and the entirety of the operation nearly exposed, to make the Nest realize that it had been taking too much control and squandering the resources that it had. That was not to say that it needed to allow the hosts to have full freedom – and Dapper-Drone would have been disappointed to get it – but it had decided that they needed to have more allowances, to be kept forward in the head, aware of what was going on around them. They needed to be kept in the loop, made part of the process, their minds used as much as their bodies were.

Such was the way of the Nest going forward.

Such was their key to success.

And what Dapper-Drone was thinking of while they were waiting for the release paperwork was the fact that this was a potentially useful means of spreading the parasites to others. Rather than sneaking a completely drugged-out partner to the library or the hospital, they would need only to get one of a pair completely out of it – the male, more often, but also possibly the female – and then sneak one of the immature worms out to them. One little rut while the other partner was drugged up with one of the goods, perhaps those sold by the Cakes once the deal was made, and the immature worm would be implanted, allowing for greater control and ease of programming once they were brought to one of the Nests.

The parasite approved, and stored the idea away to bring to the Nest later. It, of course, would make the final decision.

“Done,” Stableheart said, interrupting their thoughts.

“File that. The hospital. It has a garden?”

“Yes,” the unicorn said. Simple confirmation, nothing more.

“Does it require doctor approval to enter?”

“It’s at the back of the hospital. A rest area. Patients and doctors only.”

“Perfect.”

Redheart-Drone returned at that moment, carrying with her the small potted plant that he’d brought with him in his bags. It was small, barely a foot tall, but it would grow. It would grow massive, for that matter, and according to the Nest, this one would grow with a few different features. More airborne particles to reduce one’s cognitive abilities, for one, and a scent that would ensure that those that entered the garden didn’t question what they saw.

“You will plant this, and then, you will back yourself up to it. You will continue to do this until you are properly programmed.”

“I – this host – I – this host understands.”

Dapper-Drone hoped that the host did. The worm, immature as it was, should be able to hold firm to its control, but it would be a trifle touch and go until it was planted. That said, it was a risk worth taking.

The unicorn took the potted plant and the paperwork in his magical grip and trotted out of the office. Redheart-Drone and Dapper-Drone met eyes, and they looked down to their altered parts.

His were a trifle more obvious. His shaft, though still equine in shape, had little tendrils around the head. They curled over it most of the time, completely invisible, but they could move out as gripping things, frilled like the tendrils of a sea anemone. They had been used to gather up the worm from inside of Redheart-Drone, but they could be used for other things. He had been given a gift with them, because unlike most ponies, he was able to sync with the parasites in other hosts with the little things.

Redheart’s, however, were all internal. Her inner walls in her womb had been stripped of the ability to bear young, and had been replaced with the ability to hold worms in stasis. She could carry them with her as she went from place to place, and if a male were to put his shaft inside of her, they would take one, and be able to inject them into others. Or, as an emergency measure, she could vacate her womb with a single expulsion, spreading a puddle of worms into a room to slither around and do what they would. It was unlikely to do anything with anyone that was awake, but in a room of sleeping ponies, as was all too common in the hospital…

Well, there were possibilities.

Dapper-Drone might have once been curious or even concerned about the warping of his body, or what it would mean to have his anatomy changed with such ease. Once, he might have felt offended or even repulsed at the idea of his shaft looking more like a plant once everything was fully let loose. Once, it might have been utterly wrong for him.

Not now.

Not as a host.

Not for the Nest.

Shaking his head, Dapper-Drone felt his shaft pull back into his sheath. Redheart-Drone left the office, going back to her duties, while he gathered himself for the departure from the hospital. Twilight-Drone would soon be released with a clean bill of health, and they’d have multiple agents inside of the hospital from now on. Multiple agents, and a Nest that would work as a secondary converter.

Two Nests. Fourteen members of the Nest.

He had the numbers from that morning, and it meant that they were slowly growing. Two weeks to reach this point, and they were spreading faster and faster as they made more deals, more connections, more hosts. They had insiders in the medical profession and in city hall, which would mean that they’d have more warning about any further moves against the Nest. They had ponies ready, willing, and able to make mass infestations in the hospital, if required. They even had a deal with the Cakes ready to go forward once they were able to get the mayor to sign off on the drugs they were using from the trials.

And once Redheart-Drone and Stableheart-Drone converted the complaining ponies, infesting them and programming them here at the hospital, anything that the Mayor was concerned about – all her proof that something was ‘wrong’ – would vanish into thin air as if it had never been.

Dapper-Drone and his parasite were quite pleased. They had done well for the Nest, and the Nest would approve.

There was no self-satisfied nod, no smile, no smirk. There were none of those things that some great villain might have done for a plan coming together precisely as desired. Instead, there was just a simple turn to the door and a calculatedly ‘biological’ walk, one that bore no resemblance to the way that the Nest parasites would have moved their hosts on their own. No mechanical perfection, no complete unison, no totally-efficient, perfect movements. Just the simple walk of a pony going about their business.

Nobody would notice anything until it was too late for them to stop it.

Chapter 12

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It took three days for the full programming of Stableheart-Drone to take place. Between sessions, he was taken to his office and made to sit with Redheart-Drone so that she could take the ‘orders’ he had for the patients and give them their medications, exams, and more. Or at least, that was the excuse that the patients were given.

In reality, in the time it took for Stableheart-Drone to be infested, programmed, and brought up to the same standards as the other hosts, he was also drained of the knowledge that he had, copied, and then had the same doctoral knowledge shoved into Redheart-Drone. The nurse had his education, his knowledge, and his experience, and could pretend that she had been informed by the doctor of what needed to be done, and what drugs to prescribe for his patients. As for the doctor himself?

Stableheart-Drone huffed, the only remaining bit of the host that reacted to the pleasure of the milking device that was kept pinned to the bottom of his desk. It wasn’t mechanized as some devices down at a farm might have been, as there were no machines that wouldn’t give off a tell-tale buzz in the building, but it did latch tightly to the bottom of his desk, and the artificial sex was pleasurable enough just by rolling his hips forward and back, as if he were constantly ‘breeding’ the hole beneath his work station.

It led down to a jar where his harvested, drugged seed was being harvested, and every so often, Redheart-Drone would appear and some of it would be drained away, added to a drink or the bottle of medicine that one of the patients would be ‘prescribed’ to take home with them for the treatment of their condition. He was aware, as his parasite was, that this was just a means of expanding the addiction that had already spread through the town.

The last couple of days had been used primarily to silence the complaints that had come up from the other ‘addicts’ that had come to the hospital, saying that the trials had gone wrong and that they were feeling ‘off’ from the various things they were made to consume. Stableheart-Drone had been informed that they were on a triple dose of the chemicals, forcing their bodies to get addicted to it faster.

The Mayor hadn’t been allowed to see them, of course – as that would have given away the game – but she was buying the story that the withdrawal from the chemicals was the problem, not the chemicals themselves. After all, they were in a clean facility with no access to them; how could they be making themselves worse?

The story seemed to work for the sake of the conspiracy, and the Mayor stopped visiting after the second day. Stableheart-Drone was able to continue his programming after that.

Now, three days after, it was time for him to return to duty.

Stableheart-Drone pulled his hips back from the desk, feeling the wet slurp of his cock leaving the breeding tube. The sensation of it being dragged at, sucked on as if by a pair of lovers’ flips was quite the intense sensation, but the parasite was already blocking it off, encouraging the nerves around his shaft to go numb and silent so that he could focus on the work ahead. There was a lot of it, after all, and it would require a great deal of attention for a new host to pull it off without being discovered.

And yet, despite the danger, they had to keep moving. The near-discovery with the experiment and Twilight’s temporary imprisonment in the hospital had shown them that they needed caution and expansion in equal measure. They couldn’t take it too fast, but they couldn’t take it too slow, either; without enough hosts, they wouldn’t be able to hold out if they were discovered. It had been pure luck that their limited pool of hosts had been positioned in a place to warn other hosts away from the library at the right time, and in the hospital where they could help effect the rescue.

The Nest – both pieces of it – knew the danger that such a low pool of drone-hosts represented. It needed to expand, growing its workers, its supporters, and it had to do it quickly.

And…Stableheart-Drone agreed. Now that he had been programmed, he could see how much more efficient the work of the Nest was. They all knew what they were supposed to do, and they didn’t clash with each other any longer. The treatment of a parasite to the body could bring someone much more in line with the common order, the common good, and that meant that they had a moral obligation to spread the parasites and the Nest’s command to all of Ponyville.

Of course, it wouldn’t be something that other ponies necessarily agreed with, but that just meant that they had to be handled like more recalcitrant patients. There were ways of getting even the most stubbornly ill pony to take their medicine.

But carefully, and with the right patients, first, the ones that others would like to see brought in line.

Redheart-Drone opened the door as his cock finished shrinking into its sheath, looking at him with her head nominally cocked to the side. It was just an act, of course, just in case there were those in the hallway that might wonder why a nurse would look at a doctor without the greatest of respect on her face. It was the same act that he would have pulled if he had been talking to the head of the hospital.

“Doctor, there’s several patients waiting for you if you have a moment.”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” he said.

“You are what?”

Yes. Of course. None of the impatience of the parasite. The drone, the host, would be slightly more compassionate, kinder. The parasite pulled his lips into a kinder smile, bobbing his head.

“Of course, yes, you’re right. I’m on my way.”

Redheart-Drone nodded, stepping inside and moving to the jar. Stableheart-Drone stepped out of the office, leaving her to her devices.

There was something odd about being the youngest of the hosts in terms of how long he’d been part of the Nest, but there was something else there, too, something that made him feel…subordinate. He wondered if it was because his parasite had been immature when it had been implanted in him, and how it had to grow inside of him as well as just melding with him. Perhaps that sense of underling-ness was just part of being ‘younger’ that way, and looking at those that had been infested with ‘adult’ parasites.

The question faded as the parasite pushed it out of his head, dragging him down the hall to work and duty. Stableheart-Drone shook his head, thinking about who he had been scheduled to see this morning.

There weren’t many. A couple of injuries from the farms, a member of the Apple family that had come in for a check-up, and –

“Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!”

And, of course, her.

Stableheart-Drone opened the door to the patient’s room to find Pinkie Pie hopping up and down on her bed, her hooves kicking the blankets off as she hit the mattress again and again. She clearly didn’t have anything specifically wrong with her, at least not physically, but the Cakes sent her in every few months just to be sure that her hyperactivity didn’t mean that there was something hiding deep down inside.

There never was, though Stableheart-Drone had memories of going from amused to downright frustrated that the young woman wouldn’t take things seriously. The constant goofiness grated on him, and there were days when he genuinely wondered if she was listening to what he said, at all. The constant energy had to come from somewhere, and he’d seen multiple times that her energy bursts, hyperactivity, and more all came at a cost of lack of attention and difficulty staying focused on one thing at a time.

If he had his druthers, he would have had her on a gentle downer, something to bring her energy levels down just a few notches, but she had never been willing to accept that, and the Cakes had been unwilling to force her to take it. The result had been a force of genuine chaos throughout the town for years…

But not anymore.

“Ms. Pie,” Stableheart-Drone said as he shut the door. “I hope that you’re well.”

“Oh, hey, Doc! How’s it going?”

“Well enough. Are you going to keep bouncing on the bed?”

“Yep! It’s like a super-duper trampoline.”

That was because it was a very expensive medical bed that wasn’t meant to be bounced on, just used to keep a patient as comfortable as possible as they laid in it. The bouncing was probably wearing out the mattress, let alone what it was doing to the frame itself, considering the delicate machinery built in to adjust to any type of pony that laid in it.

The parasite kept the doctor’s distaste and wince off his face, making sure that the gentle physician smile remained, instead. The yellow-tan unicorn walked around the bed, standing at the foot of it as he looked the mare over.

She was, as ever, a complete picture of physical health. She had lean muscle running from nose to tail, her legs were in fine shape, and her rump had clearly stayed firm from all the bouncing and prancing that she did around town. Despite hopping up and down everywhere, she wasn’t even close to out of breath, and she seemed to be completely fine with keeping in motion while the exam was going on.

Normally, he’d at least make her go still for a blood test of something like that, just to try and get some point across to her that the constant motion had to be at least a little much, but not this time. He had other plans.

“Ms. Pie, there’s been a new drug that’s come down from Canterlot, and I’d really appreciate it if you gave it a try.”

“Oh? Is this a new party thing?” she asked, continuing to boing, boing, boing off the bed.

“No.”

“Ah, then I’m not really interested.”

“Ms. Pie –”

“Come on, Doc. There’s nothing wrong with me!”

And there probably wasn’t, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t things that could be improved. The Nest would give this young mare a focus that she didn’t have, that she’d never had, and more to the point, she’d probably be less irritating to the entire town. She had maintained this status for nearly ten years now, and she mostly did that because of her help when she was younger.

It was time for her to grow up.

Nevertheless, the parasite kept him on an even keel, and Stableheart-Drone smiled as he shook his head.

“Perhaps, but you know how it would make the Cakes feel better.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how it feels when you help someone?”

“Uh-huh?”

“They’ve been trying to help you for years, Ms. Pie, but you haven’t let them.”

“What?”

She stopped bouncing. Finally. Stableheart-Drone continued.

“Each time you come here, they ask me how you’re doing, if you’ll let me help you.”

“…They…they never told me that…”

“I know. They didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“But – am I making – am I making them feel bad?” Pinkie Pie asked.

Stableheart-Drone was aware of being manipulative. The parasite was helping, but the idea had come from him, from all that he knew about Pinkie Pie, and how much she wanted to make people happy. Doctors, for all that they were meant to help others, were also very good at knowing what buttons to press.

It was part of knowing better than others.

It was part of making them better.

“I know you don’t want to hurt them.”

“Oh, no. Oh, Celestia, I’m not, please, tell me I’m not.”

“Not yet, but you could. If you don’t calm down, you could hurt them very badly.”

“…This…this thing –”

“It’ll help you help them. Help you help yourself. And it won’t even do much to you, just make it so that you don’t have to run around all the time, won’t have to bounce around and knock things over.”

“But I don’t –”

Crack.

Bang.

Clatter.

It wasn’t even part of the manipulation, merely karma, that the bed chose that exact moment to break apart. The constant jumping while she was waiting, the damage that it had sustained from bearing an adult mare leaping up and down on the mattress, had finally grown too much for the bed to bear. As it came apart into its constituent pieces, Pinkie Pie barely managed to avoid being pulled down with it.

The mare stared at the mess that she’d caused, her mouth hanging open, while Stableheart-Drone just tsked softly.

“If you’d been on the new drug, that wouldn’t have happened.”

Or, quite possibly, it would have, just not with the same violence, or as swiftly. The drug, after all, was the same as the aphrodisiac fluids that were being passed around to other patients, and it would merely send the mare’s energy into a different direction, making her more like a nymphomaniac than a silly high-energy female. If any male crossed her path, she’d probably completely exhaust them, and then go looking for the next one. Would it make Pinkie Pie into a rapist of sorts? Potentially, at least until she was programmed and infested.

But that would be something else to address, later. For now, he had to get started with this.

“I’ll have Nurse Redheart come back to you with your medication.”

“…”

“Ms. Pie?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” she said, and she looked genuinely apologetic, her eyes wet with tears. “I…I should have listened.”

The parasite knew that the doctor should be sympathetic there, comforting and empathetic for the patient. There was something about Stableheart that had always been that way to his patients, despite his professional demeanor. The doctor himself agreed with that, even here, even with a patient that had screwed everything up for herself and the equipment in the room.

So, they faked it. They turned around and wrapped a hoof and foreleg around Pinkie Pie’s neck, giving her a gentle hug before patting her along the flank.

“It’ll get better from now on,” he said.

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay. I’m…I’m sorry. I’ll get the bits to pay for it, I promise.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll cover it.”

And soon enough, Pinkie Pie would be on their side. And not a moment too soon; if the Cakes were taken in by Dapper-Drone and the others that still worked out of the library, then it was important that the other member of the bakery wasn’t going to cause problems. Having her converted alongside – or even before – the Cakes would make sure that the bakery was never suspected, never considered a threat to the town as a whole.

That was good.

That was what the Nest needed.

He kept the smile on his face until he reached the door and stepped out of the room. The moment the door closed, his smile disappeared, the parasite no longer bothering. The irritation that he had felt with Pinkie Pie’s stubbornness and the slight sympathy that came for her for her tears died, too, squashed away.

No longer useful? No longer felt.

The doctor considered that sort of experience, and even without his conditioning, he imagined that he’d appreciate the ability to just control his emotions that way. He would have nodded, but the parasite took that from him, piloting him back towards his office. There was more milking to be done.

Nurse Redheart, as the patients called her, was something of a saint in the hospital. She lived there, it seemed, working longer hours and doing more tasks than any of the other nurses, and she always did them with kindness on her face and goodness in her heart. The softness of her touch was legend among the patients, as was her fury for fools and interrupting, badgering relatives that had come to try and interfere with treatment.

That reputation was a great deal harder for the parasite within, and Redheart-Drone herself, to keep up with a new sense of priorities.

Now that her main focus was the Nest and its wellness, her general care and well-wishes for the patients of the hospital was harder to focus on. Sure, they were supposed to be brought in to care for the Nest eventually, and part of her duties were to ensure that they were ready for that, much in the same way that she had been charged with ensuring that they were ready for life after the hospital before, but it wasn’t the same thing. Back then, she’d cared for them individually, wanted to know about them, wanted to be there for them.

Now, as Redheart-Drone, she didn’t care at all. She wanted them to be made better, conditioned, drugged, trained for the Nest as fast as possible, and it took great effort on the part of parasite and host to keep up the charade that they were still the same that they had always been. One way or another, they were going to keep the illusion up.

They managed it for the past three days since bringing Stableheart-Drone into the fold, and the end of the day had become a relief. The parasite had not known that it was possible to feel such a thing, but keeping up an identity so contrary to its own sense of self had become something…draining. Not difficult, frustrating, or even annoying, but merely draining, something to keep an eye on so it didn’t get worse.

As the pony-host walked toward the front door of the hospital, however, they paused. Another pony was making her own departure, and it offered them an opportunity.

“Rarity! Rarity, dear!” Redheart-Drone called out.

The white-furred pony turned, her blue-purple mane falling over one side of her face. She had grown up quite a bit from the business-pony that she had been when she was younger, developing into an attractive mare in her own right. The business that she’d run as a seamstress at the edge of town had developed into something more, a slight conglomeration where she had contacts among the high and mighty in Canterlot, as well as a runway down in Manehattan. The connections that she had were up there with Twilight-Drone’s own, and in a much greater, more varied way.

“Darling?” Rarity asked, cocking her head to the side. “Is something the matter, Nurse Redheart?”

“No, no, but I had a thought, and I wanted to share it with you.”

This facet of the nurse’s identity was easier for the parasite to use, particularly as it was leading to a more direct service to the Nest. It was one thing to ‘care’ for the different patients in the hospital, ensuring that they were on the right track for programming and future alteration. It was another thing, a far more enjoyable thing, to be all ‘girly-girl’ with another mare for the purposes of getting her off her guard.

“Do you have some time to talk shop?” Redheart-Drone asked.

“Well, I suppose I do. No work until tomorrow.”

“Splendid. Let me grab a bottle, and we’ll meet back at your shop?”

“Oh, my. That kind of chat, dear?”

“Mm, I think you’ll like it.”

“Well, it’s been a while. I suppose I can clear my schedule for some wining and dining.”

Rarity giggled as she always did, proper and gentle with just a hint of promise of something else. The seamstress of the town, the famous fashion designer, had never allowed a true scandal to come through, but there’d always been the implication that she might have something of a relationship with someone that wasn’t a stallion. It was never clear if it was true, or if it was just something that she’d curried and pushed as an idea to make people more interested in her, but it had certainly solidified her reputation as a mare of interest to the average pony.

And it meant that there was a possibility there, if she could get the mare interested for the night.

Redheart-Drone ran back to her own little office, pulling out the bottle of apple wine that one of the patients had given her. It was hardly something that she’d drink herself, but her past memories – as well as some treatments to Rarity in the past when she’d come in just a trifle drunk – showed that it was one of the mare’s drinks of choice. She emptied half of it out, pouring it down the drain, before squatting her hindquarters over it.

The parasite was slowly moving her, manipulating her, self-stimulating her inner walls by forcing them to clench, part, and clench again. The constant movement and rippling friction of her inner muscles forced to rub against each other was a rough imitation of sexual intercourse with a stallion, but the pressure, the rubbing, and more weas sufficient to stimulate a little extra fluids from within that particular cavity. The host allowed herself to enjoy it as the parasite pushed them down, grinding their swollen nether lips against the mouth of the bottle. The sweet scent would stain it, allowing the pheromones to settle on, and the thick, heavy blast of drugged aphrodisiacs would settle along the inside of the bottle, too, staining the very top of the glass with a potent blast for the first drink.

Once she had stained it properly, she lowered herself a little more carefully. The parasite reached inside, tendrils inside of her bladder, and she felt the rippling, the stirring, the gentle twisting motions inside. It not only made her feel like she had to go, but it was forcing the tissue inside to spasm, to make her feel it all the more urgently.

And yet, as a host, she had no choice of whether or not she would. The parasite was doing something akin to edging someone, building up an intense need so that when it was finally released, there would be more than enough for their purposes.

In addition, she could feel it ‘treating’ the urine within. Rather than the usual small adjustments, her parasite was not only hyper-treating her urine to make it more potent of an aphrodisiac, but it was also twisting the texture and flavor. They needed it to be as close to the apple wine as possible, ensuring that it wouldn’t be questioned while being drunk, and more, they needed to loosen up and water down the bit of vaginal slime near the top, ensuring that it didn’t become a sticky web.

The warmth was finally released, and she felt the heat spreading down her inner tubing, going down from her bladder to her urethra. The few times that she had been forced to dose a patient with her own urine, squatting over their faces to ensure that it went down their throats, had allowed the parasite to refine targeting and pressure and flow, and it went in easily without a drop going out of place.

The soft hiss that filled the air would have embarrassed most nurses, she knew, but she had become used to it. One did not take urine samples all day without having the utter lack of modesty that she did.

And more to the point, the parasite took most of the shame away. There was nothing but a bodily function there, one that was useful to the cause.

Little by little, the pressure inside faded away, and only when her bladder had been wrung loose of anything that it could let out and the bottle was full did the parasite ease up on the pressure. The tickling, rolling feeling inside of her bladder faded, and the general sense of pressure around it eased off.

There was no sigh, no sense of satisfaction. She merely pulled back, jammed the cork in the bottle before oxygen could make the effectiveness of the mixed fluids fade, and put it into a bag over her side.

It was time to break a designer.

The long walk to the shop was not too terrible for the nurse, though she was tired and vaguely sweaty when she arrived. Rarity, of course, had already pulled a diaphanous robe over herself, answering the door like a lady of leisure.

“Darling, come in, come in,” she said, the unicorn stepping out of the way. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Heh, for less than half an hour, Rarity,” Redheart-Drone said.

“Oh, fine, yes, but it felt like ages.”

“I know, I know, but I promise, this is going to make up for it.”

“Apple wine? Darling, I can get that from the source.”

“But can you get the right vintage?”

“…Oh, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Oh, I must sample it, then. A drink, and – what was this business that you wanted, again?”

“I was thinking that the nurses back at the hospital could really do with a proper uniform. We’ve been using the same ones for years, and I thought, since you might be between jobs at the moment…”

“Between projects, dear, between projects; I am always in demand, so I can never be truly between jobs. But…you’re not wrong,” the unicorn said, getting down a pair of glasses and laying them on a table in her workroom. “Pour, please. And tell me, how many nurses are we talking here?”

“Oh, quite a few. I think between thirty and forty,” she admitted before popping the bottle. “But imagine the improvement of a truly unified appearance.”

“Mmm, I am…and I am loving it.”

That was the point of the lie. There were no plans of getting the nurses new uniforms, but Redheart-Drone had known that it would suffice to get her in the door, and if she could get Rarity drinking the drugged wine, it wouldn’t take long before she was addicted to it. Once that happened, further doses could be brought around by the nurses coming by for ‘fittings’, and that would eventually lead to Rarity wanting to come around for the real stuff…and for programming.

Once that happened, they’d have both the unicorn, her business contacts, and the reach she had to different cities in their pocket. She could become a traveling infester as well as a fashion contact in the different cities. She’d have reason to move around, to infect others, to have private meetings with the high and mighty.

And so, the Nest would expand, again.

“Dear?”

The parasite and the host snapped out of their thoughts, focusing on the moment once more. Rarity gestured with one hoof towards the glass on the other side of the table.

“Aren’t you going to have a drink?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I was fantasizing.”

“As was I, darling, but let’s not let a good bottle go to waste.”

Redheart-Drone nodded, lifting it from the table and toasting the other mare, before sipping at the beverage. She had long-since lost any shame at drinking what was mixed with the alcohol; the taste no longer reminded one of any such filth or vulgarities, and even if it did, there was no choice in the matter, anyway. The parasite would make her do anything, go through anything, to make the Nest stronger and more viable. Redheart-Drone would go along with it, too; she had been well-programmed to obey all the instructions of the Nest and those that served it.

They drank for a time, just enjoying the wine and making small-talk, but as they filled their glasses a second, then a third time, the effects became more and more obvious. Rarity went red-faced for an entirely different reason than the wine, and her scent started to change. No longer just the perfumed scents of a rich mare, she started to put off the slightly sour scent of sweat, and under that, something thicker, something warmer and more needy.

Redheart-Drone didn’t smile, but she and the parasite were satisfied, very satisfied indeed. That warmth and need was already settling in, and a few more sips would surely turn it into a full-blown heat.

“So, are you looking forward to this project?” Redheart-Drone asked.

“Mm?”

“The project. Outfitting the nurses?”

“Oh, oh, yes,” Rarity said. “I believe that it will be a marvelous process. The fitting will have to be extensive, though.”

“I’m sure. The mares will be more than ready for it, I promise. They’re all eager to have a new outfit that shows them off better.”

The parasite was studying Rarity throughout the conversation, trying to determine whether the rumors surrounding the other mare were true. They needed to know; if they sent the wrong type of host to infect her at a later date, then there might be a last-minute burst of resistance that might cause harm to the host. It was best to be sure.

And sure enough, there was some response at the idea of all those mares ‘showing off’, so to speak. It wasn’t possible to tell through the drugged state if it was merely the aphrodisiacs making her respond to any sort of sensual idea or genuine preference for mares, but one thing was for certain: Rarity liked the idea.

“Mmm…I’ll look forward to it.”

As the unicorn giggled, tossing her head back and clearly trying to pull herself back to a sober state, Redheart-Drone allowed herself a smile. It fit the moment, and more, it was part of the satisfaction that they felt. The parasite had found a way to expand for the Nest, and it had listened to its host to do it well.

The new programming that had come about due to the initial failure of their programming was working out in the Nest’s favor. Soon, very soon, they would have enough hosts to make a bigger move. The Mayor was the only real source of danger in the local area, considering her authority over the other ponies. Once they had enough of a following, once the Nest had enough back-ups to ensure that the Mayor wouldn’t be missed during the infestation process, they could move on her, and once they had her, the Nest would be safe from any internal threats.

External ones, like Luna, Celestia, and Cadence, were still a possibility, but that would be handled. Bit by bit, they were growing, and the presence of the Nest would become the true power behind everything in Equestria soon enough. All they had to do was keep pushing, patiently but firmly.

“Mmm…I think I like this vintage,” Rarity said. “Do you have any more?”

“Not with me, I’m afraid, but I think there’s a few more back at my office. I could send some with the next mare that comes for a fitting.”

“Mmm, keep sending these, and I’ll give you a discount for the whole service.”

“Done.”

“Now, why don’t you – hic – oh, excuse me, dear.”

“Heh, too much?”

“Oh, not even. Now, let’s start talking about designs.”

Even half-drunk, the designer was still a designer. Redheart-Drone pulled herself together and prepared to talk shop. After all, if she made a mistake, it was still possible that Rarity could notice, and that would bring questions.

She would not make a mistake.

Chapter 13

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Stableheart-Drone continued his duties as a doctor at the hospital, though he was becoming more and more like the Manehattan doctors that were prescribing medicines left and right for their backers and financiers in the bigger city. Ponies came in complaining of minor aches and pains, and he would send them away with some of the drugged goo that the rest of the Nest produced. Some would come in with genuine problems, and he would make sure that they were patched up, but sent home with special painkillers to make sure that the addiction was started and would keep them coming back.

It was a busy way of life, keeping up with everyone that needed treatment. The more that he did for the Nest, the more that he wanted to do, and so he did even more. The spiral was as real for him as it was for those that were getting drugged by him.

The patients were quick to succumb to the new medicine, and those that had been in the hospital for a long time found themselves more and more dependent on the ‘painkillers’ that he dispensed to them throughout their stay. The days passed, and they were slowly released. It was a miracle, some stated, a miracle that they were being released from the hospital after being there for months with various illnesses. Some wondered if the hospital had found a miracle cure, while others were just content to have their family members back.

In truth, the parasites of the Nest were simply that good at suppressing the symptoms of the different ponies that were brought into the Nest. He saw it himself; the parasites not only forced their hosts through the exhaustion that most of the sick equines were suffering from, but had such control over the body that they were able to hold back the symptoms of not only depression, but such great things as cancer.

More than one patient left that had been all but guaranteed to die beneath the hospital roof, and they were welcomed back with happy tears. If the family knew what the cost had been to heal them, Stableheart-Drone had little doubt that they would have paid it. They would have assumed that the family member was just a little odd, yes, but they would have paid it, not caring that they were dealing with a drone rather than a true pony any longer. All that mattered was that they would have that family member back.

And so the days dragged on. He worked with one patient after another, and over the course of a week, he was able to bring more than a dozen hosts to the Nest. They had to do it slowly, in stages, but they were able to do it while the patients were either unconscious or drugged to the gills, unable to remember what had happened to them, only that something had. They were all grateful for the chance to go to the private garden, anyway, happy to be allowed sunshine and air that was better than the rooms in the hospital, and so, they didn’t question what it meant to be there.

It wasn’t until the end of that week that things started getting…interesting.

He was just going back to his office, meaning to hook himself up to the milker once more, when he heard someone shouting his name from down the hall. His parasite turned him to look at the source of it rather than continuing on its appointed rounds, and they spotted the speaker immediately.

It was the Cakes, and they were all but dragging Pinkie Pie behind them, the mare leaving a small trail of slime between her hind legs. Stableheart-Drone arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just opened the door to his office, nudging Pinkie Pie through, and then shut the door behind her.

The Cakes looked relieved, which meant that he’d made the right decision. The parasite and the doctor were of one mind: something had gone off with the medication. The younger mare should have been completely addicted at this point, leaving her unable to think of causing trouble, just thinking of sex.

So, what had gone wrong?

“Doc, I think…I think something’s wrong with our girl,” Mr. Cake said, shaking his head. “I know that you said that this’d help her –”

“It will, if she’s taking it properly.”

There was a flinch, just slightly, on the part of Mrs. Cake. The parasite pulled at the shared information from the last sync with the Nest –

Ah, yes. Mrs. Cake had been one of the first that had been affected by the fluids that Nest helped their hosts produce. Which meant that there was a possibility that something else had happened to the meds.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cake, I promise you that I’ll take a good look at Ms. Pie to make sure that she’s alright, but the medication should be doing everything I said. If she’s not getting better, if she’s not more focused –”

“Well, that’s the thing. She is, most of the time,” Mr. Cake said, shaking his head. “I mean, I see her doing better and better with the bakery. No more mistakes with the recipes, constantly on top of things, not losing orders: she’s like a whole new pony.”

“…But?” Stableheart-Drone asked.

“But then, there’s that time when she just…loses it. And she’s worse than she was. She leaped over the counter and tried to pin one of our customers to the floor, and…and…”

The embarrassment was clear, and the doctor-drone could guess what had happened. He’d known that was a possibility, but the dosage had been such that Pinkie Pie should have been completely locked down, too horny and high to do anything but what she was told to do. The fact that she hadn’t been…

His suspicions were proving more and more likely as Mrs. Cake looked anywhere but at him. He cleared his throat.

“Mr. Cake, could I have a moment?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I mean, with Mrs. Cake.”

“Wha – why? What’s the matter?”

“She looks rather unwell. Just – give us a moment, please? Just in case.”

“Oh, um…sure. Sure. You okay, honey?”

“Yes, dear, just…just momentary discomfort,” Mrs. Cake said. “I’ll just check with Stableheart for a moment, that’s all.”

The stallion slowly nodded, wandering a few steps down the hall, out of earshot almost immediately, what with the jostling employees of the hospital all around him. Stableheart-Drone turned to her, lowering his voice.

“You took some of the medicine, didn’t you?”

“W-well, just…just a few,” Mrs. Cake said.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought – you know how it is. Sometimes, you worry for your children.”

“That wasn’t the reason.”

Was that the compassionate sort of answer that Doctor Stableheart would have given? Probably not, but compassion could have its hard side, as well, and it seemed appropriate for the moment. The vague dissatisfaction of the parasite for having the plan nearly derailed was showing, but it hit the right note. Mrs. Cake looked down.

“The first time…I swear, it was just to see if it was going to help me, too.”

“…Help you?”

“I have some problems focusing of late, too. I thought, well, if it’s helping Pinkie stay focused on her work –”

“And after that?”

“…It made me feel good. Feel good like…It just made me feel good.”

So, she’d been sneaking doses, or pushing Pinkie Pie to let her have some, and that meant that neither of them were getting properly dosed. No wonder Pinkie Pie had attacked someone, and no wonder she had left a snail trail of pleasure juices as she was dragged into the hospital. She had been completely out of it, but not so far down that people would keep from noticing. If she’d been properly dosed, she would have been no less horny, but her energy levels and her general state of being would have been so subdued that she wouldn’t have caused any trouble. Not for the family, not for the customers, not for anyone.

At least they’d brought her right to the hospital rather than tried to take her out of town. That was lucky.

“Look. From now on, you can’t have any more of those,” he said, the parasite ensuring that his voice stayed even, calm, and caring. He leaned in, almost conspiratorially, and kept his voice down. “I want to help Pinkie Pie, and you do, too.”

“I do. I really do. I just –”

“If you’re suffering from depression and need a booster, we can talk about putting you on the same medication.”

“…We can?”

“There’s a different dose needed for you –” Bigger dose, probably, considering that she kept going on and off it, and was likely developing a tolerance. “– but we can make sure that you get what you need. But you can’t keep taking hers. This medicine is very strong, and if you go off it at the wrong time, you can lose all the progress that you made, and that would mean that she’d have to start over, on a much stronger dose, and perhaps not even feel it. Do you want her to go back to how she was? Or worse, a depressed version of what she was?”

Mrs. Cake was the epitome of a caring mother, it seemed, despite the fact that Ms. Pie was not her child. She bowed her head, nodding in understanding, even as she looked like she was being asked to give up some great treasure.

In some ways, she was. She was being asked to hold off and be depressed without her addictive drugs for a while. It was going to be hard, but it would be doable for her.

“I see…I…I understand.”

“Now, no more stealing her doses.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“And no more pretending that you’re okay.”

“I – I’m not – I’m fine.”

“Dear. You’re not.”

“…”

“It’s okay to be depressed, but you can’t just hide it. Come in with your husband tomorrow, and we’ll get you prescribed something for that. And who knows? Maybe he’ll want to try it, too.”

And it would give them a way in with the Cakes, just in case Dapper’s work fell through. They would have many chances, many layers to the plan of conspiracy. Soon enough, the whole village would be a safe place for the Nest, all those different layers of threats completely negated.

Mrs. Cake nodded. Stableheart-Drone nodded back toward her husband, and she trotted back down the hall. There was some conversation between them, but he’d already tuned them out, turning back to his office.

He wasn’t surprised to find Pinkie Pie masturbating when he walked inside. Her rump was turned toward the corner of his desk, and she was grinding her pussy against it, sliming up the edge and huffing and puffing as she did. Her mouth hung open, her eyes were hazy, and she whimpered with clear need.

“Mmmph…mmm…”

“Ms. Pie.”

“Nnngh…S-sorry, Doc…not trying…to make a mess.”

“You need help.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you need –”

“Can…can you…f-fuck me…Doc?”

Host and parasite hadn’t quite expected that reaction, but it would be a useful one. A more direct application of drugged seed would be better than more of the diluted medicine, and it would be absorbed more directly into her. And after that…

It didn’t take long to determine that her current state all but demanded that she be implanted as soon as possible. The infestation would help her control herself, and she was already lost enough to the drugs that she would have little in the way of self-control or resistance in the garden. As the Nest had grown tall enough to have similar processing power as the one in the library, that meant that she would be able to be taken through this overnight.

A bit of paperwork, some shuffling of other patients, and nobody would be any the wiser by morning.

“Of course,” he said.

“You’re the – mmmph – you’re the best, Doc.”

The pink mare turned around. The medicine had clearly done the job of getting her to be hyper-productive, that was for sure; her slime ran down her back legs, and her pussy was a mess of slippery strings. Her pussy had left all kinds of stains against the side of his desk, but that was something that could be handled later.

The parasite pushed his cock free of his sheath, making it go up with a rapid erection suitable for the way that a stallion should be around his mares. The doctor inside was a little bit trepidatious about outright fucking a patient, but the parasite was there to keep that from bothering either of them. This was for the Nest, after all, and the young mare needed a good dose of medicine to be back to her normal self.

Pinkie Pie swayed her hindquarters back and forth, showing off that puffy pink donut of a pucker as well as that slick, slimy slit. She had been completely drenched, and the doctor would have all the lube he needed for his job.

“Anal, please,” she muttered. “I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“As you wish,” Stableheart-Drone said.

His movements were getting more mechanical, more focused on the point of delivery rather than imitating someone else. He put his hooves on her back, hunching up and over, and his cock slid between her thighs. The large shaft drenched itself in her juices, sliding forward, back, forward, back, before pulling back and up, the flared head sliding towards her other hole. With so much lubrication, penetration would be – and was – easy.

“Oooooooh, yeah…”

It was somewhat amazing that Pinkie Pie was still capable of coherent speech, even something so limited as that. She lowered her head to the ground, her hooves barely keeping her front half lifted up, while her back half arched that little bit higher as his cock went deeper into her asshole. Further, further, further, until his sac tapped gently against her sex, and she moaned all the more for him.

It wouldn’t take long to get her completely satisfied. It wouldn’t take long at all.

The host would have taken his time to get her off, to make sure that she had the orgasm that she needed. If this had been a purely medical fuck, it would have been filled with a sense of technique, of aiming for the pleasurable places, ensuring that she got everything that would get her off. The pace would have been slow, at first, and quiet, ensuring that the rest of the hospital never learned of the rule-breaking going on just out of sight.

That was not what happened.

The parasite wiggled itself around his prostate and pulled on the various fibers and tendrils that connected it to the rest of Stableheart-Drone’s body, ensuring that he felt it all the way through. He thrust in, out, in, out, a pale imitation of actual rutting, before the parasite reached the point of proper satiation.

Squirt.

The first shot went through his sac, up through his prostate, only to be diverted into the parasite. It did something in there, something to alter the fluid, before it was released. The sensation of it coming down his shaft was hotter than usual, but also thicker, almost like his seed had become something more like syrup, more sticky and clinging than before.

Squirt.

Splort.

When it finally reached the end of his shaft and flowed out into the mare’s ass, he felt that, too, and the party mare arched her back as soon as the fluid filled her. It must have been a much higher dose of the drugged fluids she’d been getting, or –

No, the parasite had altered it further, making it more of a direct aphrodisiac. It hit her inner walls and was absorbed almost immediately. The parasite directed the host’s hooves to hold tight, to press in from either side –

And just in time. Pinkie Pie let out a soundless scream, her mouth hanging open as she came, and came, and came again, her orgasms rolling through her as the higher dose hit her hard. It was flowing right into her, drugging her and leaving her high faster than any of the previous medicinal doses would have done. It was no different than upending a bottle of wine into some-pony’s ass, except that it was a much stronger substance than any booze would have been.

Pinkie Pie was subject to a fit almost like an epileptic seizure of pleasure, shaking and spasming, tensing up and then sliding down again. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze went her inner walls, almost like she was desperately trying to suck more of the forbidden juices from his shaft, trying to get higher and higher on her own pleasure.

The parasite and the stallion’s body obliged.

It took less than a minute for her to be completely out of it, for her shaking, quivering self to be completely shattered. She was giddy-eyed, her tongue hanging out, and when his cock popped out of her hole with a ‘satisfying’ squelch, it left all the seed inside. Not even a drop of it passed out of her. The thicker consistency meant that she was effectively slimed all the way through her insides.

A concept-image popped into his head from the parasite. His cum-slime had been altered, made into a sort of conductive, nesting material for the parasite that would be implanted. It would speed up the way that it could connect to the female, allowing it to burrow deep, integrate faster, and be part of her at a much more rapid rate than had happened to the other hosts so far.

The Nest, it seemed, was still evolving.

There was a clear order, now. He would call Redheart-Drone, and they would take the catatonic patient to the garden. There, the final part of her induction to the Nest would take place, and they would have another user of the Elements of Harmony under their control.

Redheart-Drone walked at Westin-Drone’s side, and the pegasus shook his head. Or rather, the host appeared to, and the parasite encouraged it to maintain the illusion of normality as they walked through the streets.

“She is host?” he asked.

“Pinkie Pie is, though it will take a few hours for the full programming to take effect,” Redheart-Drone whispered. “But it has been started.”

It was a good start, then. Westin-Drone was aware that he had a different perspective to the situation than some of the other hosts. Despite his life of debauchery, he had lived with access to money, power, and more, and that meant that he knew what the world had been like before Twilight Sparkle and her friends had done what they did.

He remembered. He understood the power that they could wield with the Elements of Harmony, and he knew that the Nest would need to take care of that.

They’d been partially informed of that with the infestation of Twilight-Drone and the subsequent download of her memories, but the addition of Westin-Drone’s memories corroborating the stories in Twilight-Drone’s mind, combined with the other bits and pieces that had been gathered from a multitude of hosts, had painted a very dangerous picture of what the Elements of Harmony could do if they were ever put to use again. The Nest was mighty, but it was still a being that needed to operate quietly until it had enough workers, enough hosts, enough drones to do what was required.

The best step was to remove the current users of the Elements of Harmony, and Westin-Drone was satisfied to see two of them taken down, and a third already in the process of being removed. That left only Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash, and he doubted that they needed to do anything about the latter. He and the parasite within agreed that Rainbow Dash was the most selfish of the group, and that the small cluster of friends had been the main thing that had allowed her to be the sort of pony capable of using her particular Element. Without them, she would soon cease to be an appropriate wielder.

But they still had the others to take care of, something that they should be able to finish soon.

“Have the tastes of the future-host been determined?” Westin-Drone asked.

“Not yet.”

“One would imagine that she has lost control at least once.”

“This host has not seen it.”

“How long has she been treated?”

“Slightly less than a week.”

“Dose?”

“Moderate.”

“Hmmph.”

“The Nest cannot risk discovery. A slower approach has been deemed necessary for this one.”

The host and parasite understood, but they were both antsy about it. There was still the urgency for the host to have his pleasure, and there was the need for the parasite within to see results. Though their programming had been changed with the advent of greater understanding of what made them efficient, there was something of their original melding left. The parasite had been given the host’s need to see things done in a timely manner, and the host had been given the need to control things the way that he wanted. They were both subservient to the Nest, of course, but that did not preclude vague irritations at delays.

They reached the shop again, and the two hosts paused as the sounds of pleasure rose from within. They glanced at each other, intentionally adopting the more ‘normal’ mannerisms for the sake of anyone watching.

“Was there another fitting today?” Westin-Drone asked.

“There is supposed to be a daily fitting, but –”

“But what?”

“They were supposed to be done.”

“…”

“Let us see what the future-host is doing.”

Westin-Drone nodded, the white pegasus with his red wings stepping forward. He rested a hoof against the front door, pushed it slightly, and when there was no response, shoved it the rest of the way open.

There was the fashion designer, lying on her back, with her mouth open wide as one of the nurses happened to be squatting over her face. Her mouth was filled with a clear fluid, her eyes were wide and hazy, and her sex drooled down over her asshole and the base of her tail, staining them both.

The hosts stepped in quickly, Redheart-Drone shutting the door behind them. The mare over Rarity’s face had no expression, drone-faced as she continued to slowly let loose her drugged stream into the other female’s muzzle. There was no need to speak; it was clear what had happened to everyone involved.

That seems to solve that mystery, Westin-Drone thought, looking down at the fashion designer. The unicorn was completely out of it, but at the same time, she was quite clearly enjoying herself. She at least enjoys mares.

Yet, as he walked around the drugged unicorn, her eyes slipped to him, then down between his legs. Her smile remained, and it was clear that she didn’t dislike what she saw between his hind legs.

Bi, then.

His parasite was content with that. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a great deal better than nothing. A bisexual pony could be played with by any of the drones, fed whatever they needed. It wouldn’t take long before Rarity would be completely ready for infestation.

“Should we take the future-host to the library?” Redheart-Drone asked.

“Not yet.”

“She’s close.”

“Let’s get her closer. And next time, we will come with you prepared.”

“Ah. Pre-infestation?”

“Yes.”

It would require either sending Dapper along with her or modifying another stallion, like himself, to have the right shaft to deliver the smaller worm to the mare on the floor, but it would be easier than guiding a drunk through town. Having her controlled by the immature worm to come to a Nest for syncing and programming would give them far greater cover.

“Remind me.” Westin-Drone turned to Redheart-Drone. “The patients being released from the hospital. The ones that are going to be this host’s ‘entourage.’”

“They are to be released tomorrow.”

“They are already infested?”

“Yes.”

That was the plan to keep the syncing up to date between the two Nest sites. As Westin-Drone was the stallion responsible for both bankrolling Twilight-Drone’s experiments and for the donation to the hospital a while back, he was the perfect person to pass between the two Nests. At the same time, he couldn’t have actually been responsible for carrying all that data alone; if someone else was caught, or if there was an emergency, then he needed to be able to break schedule and do something about it.

Thus, the entourage. They were going to be seen publicly as his assistants, as the ones that carried his schedule and his decisions. More to the point, there would be four of them, each carrying part of the data that would keep the two Nests synced up with each other. Each one would be a faster individual download than the full amount drained from just one pony, and if caught, would not be able to give up the full picture of what was going on under the nose of every other pony in the town.

The idea had come from Twilight-Drone once she’d recovered from her time in the hospital, and it had been approved of by the Nest. The whole situation had been strange to the hosts, and the parasites were not much better, considering that they were ostensibly supposed to follow the Nest in all things, but now…

Now there were two Nests, and that meant that orders were coming from different ones, and there was the distinct possibility that one of them might give an order that the other would countermand if they were not kept in regular communication with each other. The hosts and the parasites were not yet fearful, but there was a general sense of unease from the parasites due to the possibilities, and that unease was slowly bleeding over to the hosts due to just how deeply embedded the parasites were.

Westin-Drone was aware of the fact that this would become more and more of a problem the further that they spread. In-town, there was the chance of keeping the Nests informed of each other. Once they were in multiple towns, however, as the Nest demanded that they spread further and further, then there would be greater problems, depending on what they did.

They could, for example, keep the Nests firmly in Ponyville, requiring that the various hosts go back and forth between Ponyville and their hometowns. However, not only was that going to be obvious, requiring much more travel, it would also rapidly become an expensive venture that not all the hosts would be able to afford, particularly those that were already not well off in their hometowns. Travel would be slow, and it would mean that the news coming back to the Nests in Ponyville could rapidly become outdated, leading to bad decisions on the part of the Nests.

On the other hand, there was the possibility of establishing at least one Nest in every town and city, with more in the bigger settlements. That, however, brought the problem that there would need to be a dedicated syncing team of hosts that did nothing but go between the different cities and towns of Equestria to keep all the Nests up to date with the same information, with progress reports and plans that the other Nests had underway so that they didn’t tread on one another’s toes, and so they didn’t start targeting ponies that were already hosting a parasite and waste their time on that.

The problem there was that the country was big. Westin-Drone had been an inhabitant of Cloudsdale at one point, and he had seen the world from above, and he knew how long it took to get from place to place. Spreading information from Nest to Nest like that would be a difficult task, particularly as they would need to send ponies out in multiple pathways to actually spread the news in a timely fashion, and there would be no way for the Nests to avoid some difference of opinion between them, considering that there would be a time delay between syncs no matter what they did.

Once they finished with Ponyville, the hard part of infesting all of Equestria would begin, and they needed a plan. Westin-Drone didn’t know what they could do to avoid all weaknesses, but he knew that they’d have to find something. Pegasi would be able to move faster between towns than most others, but they’d need a lot of them to keep that network going, and a lot of pegasi just dropping their other jobs to focus on that would be very hard to justify. Ponies would notice.

Westin-Drone had his attention pulled from his own inner thoughts to look out the window again. Just for a split-second, he saw Applejack around the corner down the street. The mare had been staring at the fashion house, and the host wondered how long that had been going on.

A moment later, the host saw Big Mac further down the street. The bigger red stallion had been staring right where Applejack was, a reminder that the Nest had eyes on all of the different mares and stallions of interest in the town. Eventually, Big Mac would take the step that would bring Applejack into the arms of the Nest, and when that happened, they would have access to the Apple Family trade routes. And, more importantly, another user of the Elements of Harmony would be neutralized.

They were slowly, ever so slowly, moving closer to that point of being too big to stop. Once Ponyville was entirely taken in by the Nest, it would take most of Equestria to actually reverse the process. If they were able to take another large city, like Manehattan or Dodge Junction, it would be all but impossible to remove them without getting Celestia, Luna, and Cadence involved in the matter, and those were difficult to stir at the best of times.

“Westin.”

He turned around. Redheart-Drone was gesturing down at the open-mouthed dressmaker, who was still slightly urine-stained around her face. Her muzzle was drenched and her mouth hung open as she let out a drunken giggle, one hoof trying to rub at her sex rather ineffectually as she continued to drip.

“The future-host could use a further dose.”

“Which sort?”

“Seed.”

“Hmm…Help me roll her over.”

It would be a good time to see just how receptive she was, after all; in a state like this, any mare would be more honest about what she wanted. Rarity might have been rather stuck-up and prissy in public, but now that she was all drugged up, they could find out anything that they needed from her, from her tastes to…

Well, anything. All they had to do was give her a little push.

Tomorrow, Westin-Drone thought as he got in position to mount her. Tomorrow, they would come back and infest her, and it would be done.

Chapter 14

View Online

Dapper-Drone had joined Westin-Drone’s entourage for the daily sync at the hospital, and the stallion took to the download-upload with a will. He no longer stared straight ahead while he was being emptied and filled, but rather, left himself open, allowing the data to pass into him and out of him while taking advantage of the syncing to feel for the other ponies involved.

The other hosts, he was corrected. He took the correction and applied it.

Yet, at the same time, he knew that he wasn’t the only host that took advantage of this. While they were all connected to one of the Nests, the hosts could interact with one another, speak in a way that was impossibly fast compared to how they had to socialize while they were disconnected. Mind to mind was infinitely faster than the words that they shared, faster by far than putting the sound to tones and tones to muscle and muscle to speech, and then having to wait for each sound to be made, translated, and sorted through their minds. This, this mind-to-mind way of talking that only happened while they were connected to a Nest, meant that they were actually able to…to do things properly.

And the hospital Nest encouraged that, while the library Nest merely tolerated it.

It was one of several differences that Dapper-Drone had noticed between the two different core pieces of the Nest. The one in the hospital had the overall focus that all potential hosts needed to be infested for the sake of future treatment, for the preservation of what was around them. There was a sense of focus, of duty, for the hospital Nest that almost seemed to mirror some of Stableheart-Drone’s need to take care of things, to treat others and improve them.

It wasn’t quite the same thing, of course. Dapper-Drone had been connected to the Nest while Stableheart-Drone had been, too, and he knew what went through the doctor’s head. The physician was nothing more than a programmed drone, one that was focused on building up the host numbers for the Nest, but was more…limited, in that way. The Nest, on the other hand…

Dapper-Drone felt the pleasure surge as the data was uploaded to him, summarized and compressed memories that would be taken back to the library Nest so that it would be up to date with everything that happened at the hospital. Names of hosts, names of different ponies that had started their drugged treatment, and more were all uploaded to his mind, and while it was too much for him to think about on his own, the parasite embedded in him was able to sort through it, compressing it further until it was only a mild headache in the back of his head.

The rest of the entourage were slowly disconnecting from the Nest, and he knew that he would be doing the same shortly. Yet, while he was still connected, he talked to the host-ponies that were part of Westin-Drone’s entourage.

They were happy enough. They were new to this, yes, but they were happy, happy to have their will removed, happy to be given purpose. They had been little more than wanderers, laborers around town. Now, they had something that made them happy, a ‘boss’ that gave them validation day in and day out.

Now, they were directed with purpose every day, every hour, and they were rewarded for it.

They were drones.

They were hosts.

They were happy.

And of course they were, for the Nest made sure that they would feel happy doing what they did. That happiness, Dapper-Drone knew from experience, would slowly fade into satisfaction, and from there, into…whatever it was that he felt as a drone. Feeling was difficult, these days, not because emotion was suppressed, but because in so many ways, it really didn’t matter.

After all, feeling was a condition of free will, and the one thing that the Nest didn’t offer was the freedom of choice. You did what you were told to do, and you were rewarded for lasting to the end of the task. Not for brilliance, not for taking some cunning way forward, but for making it to the finish line.

It was an easier way of life.

It was a simpler way of life.

Dapper-Drone preferred it, and he could feel the satisfaction in the sync-lines with the other hosts. They were happier this way, partially from the programming, and partially from the way that it had changed them. On some level, the blue-black stallion was sure that they were at least partially aware of the fact that they had been told to love this and that was why they did, but he doubted that they really minded. Once you got used to a certain amount of satisfaction, you stopped questioning why you felt it and just enjoyed it.

One by one, the other hosts disconnected from the Nest, and little by little, the number of hosts being filled by a tendril, tentacle, or root faded, until it was just Dapper-Drone left. He stood there, feeling the quiet temptation to turn around, but his parasite kept him looking forward, rolling his head at most.

The Nest pushed at him, and the parasite and host listened as a new concept-image rolled down the tendril.

Mayor Mare.

The image of her was powerful, and it was back-lit with a colorful red. There was some annoyance from the Nest about this mare, and for good reason.

The concept progressed, showing her passing through the hospital on an examination, checking on things, touching patients, making surprise inspections of the stores of drugs elsewhere in the hospital. She was accompanied by others, some of which were admitted to be drones in the concept-image, others of which were still clean, unclaimed by the Nest thus far.

It didn’t matter, of course. They couldn’t just strike at her without some preparation, and so far, that had been difficult to manage. She was, however, becoming more and more of a problem, more and more of a risk.

The Nest wanted her claimed.

The Nest would have it.

The parasite in Dapper-Drone pushed back, giving a concept-image of its own, and Dapper-Drone was pulled along with it. The parasite wanted to take care of things, to carry this information and thought to the other Nest, so that they might have consensus.

The hospital Nest was agreeable. It was, after all, looking to ‘cure’ the various ponies of their sense of free will and the ‘happiness’ that it might bring them. The idea of seeking consensus seemed to be a little unnecessary to the younger Nest, but it was willing to wait.

The parasite was satisfied. The Nest was satisfied.

POP!

The feeling of the tentacle pulling free reminded him that the conversation between his parasite and the Nest had been so fast that it would have made little difference in ‘real time’ between his disconnect and the other hosts. Even as the slithery, slimy thing came free and a small deluge of Nest slime spilled from his rump, Dapper-Drone was only a half-second behind the other hosts stepping away from it. He was piloted by his parasite with the rest of them, marched to the edge of the garden where Westin-Drone waited for him.

“Sync is accomplished?” Westin-Drone asked.

“It is.”

“Let us leave.”

“There is no more?”

“Redheart-Drone will be syncing. Patient data for the day.”

Dapper-Drone understood, and did not feel the need to nod. Not anymore. Many of the mannerisms of pony-kind were being held purely as a sort of memory in the back of his head these days, something that the parasite used to impersonate him when not around other hosts. There never was that need to bow his head, or nod, or even to flick his tail around in irritation or emotion. He had to be reminded of those unconscious things as he became ever more the tool of the Nest.

It felt like a good thing, most of the time. Most of the time, he felt like he was becoming something better.

The other times? They didn’t count.

The two older hosts walked out of the garden, followed by the entourage of newer drones that had been assigned by the nest. They were all earth ponies, no more than two weeks infested, and they were still filled with the joy of being made host, and the pleasure that came with it. Dapper-Drone had felt that emotion passing through the sync-link, and he had been amused by it. Amused, and a little sad, knowing what would come next.

Redheart-Drone passed by as they left the garden and entered the hospital hallways. She, he knew, had been raised up, the real ‘leader’ of the hospital ponies. They had considered making it Stableheart-Drone, but there was something soft there, something that was more in need of persuasion. Redheart-Drone, on the other hand, had all of the doctor’s knowledge, and none of his peculiarities. She was the better chief-drone for the hospital.

And more to the point, she was more effective, since nobody would have expected her to be the leader. It was another layer of defense for the Nest.

They reached the hospital lobby, surrounded by patients. Some of the staff called out to Westin-Drone, thanking him for the donation to the hospital weeks back, now, and were calling out that they would see him at the monthly meeting next seek. He nodded back, but didn’t say anything.

It was acceptable. Westin-Drone’s host would have been a party animal at one point, but the Nest had been slowly adapting that, showing him as being part of a rehab group to make the changes in his behavior a little more explicable. It was good. It was right. It kept anyone from knowing the truth outside of the Nest.

Dapper-Drone followed the group of drones, all of them still at least half in their own heads and cramped in their own skulls from the data that they carried. That feeling would continue until they reached the library and were able to download it properly again. At this time, they were used to it, but it was still not the most comfortable way of making their way through town.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they walked as a herd, they would have been stumbling, sliding, shifting, losing their balance and going every which way. As a group, however, they were just about able to make it work.

There were other drones across the town, of course. One such was Big Mac, and with him, his sister.

Applejack had been infested just last night, and she was still getting used to the feeling of being so completely controlled as a host should be. Her head spun regularly, her body awash with the feeling of pleasure that came from being a good, obedient drone, and…and…

“Mmm…”

The occasional moan still slipped free when her parasite hit her particularly hard with the pleasure of her body. It was still integrating, still getting used to her insides, and that meant that its control, while complete, was not always ‘on’ in the same way. She enjoyed the rippling feeling of a forced orgasm going through her, the parasite stiffening her up to make it all the more enjoyable.

“This host enjoys watching.”

That was her brother. Correction. It was her host’s brother. The host’s brother.

“It remains slightly ashamed down inside.”

“This one feels odd, as well,” the parasite said through Applejack’s mouth. “Odd, but not overly bothered.”

“It is akin to a taboo.”

“The hosts hold against it for breeding reasons.”

“Then we use the other holes.”

“This host feels as if she would enjoy it.”

There were certainly some dirty memories in Applejack’s mind. Applejack-Drone was not the most innocent of hosts, for certain. She enjoyed quite a few things that other ponies would have deemed ‘dirty.’

The parasite rewarded its host with one that she would not have been able to pursue on her own. In an alley between one shop and another, Applejack-Drone lifted her tail. Big Mac-Drone looked at her, and the parasite within him did its business, forcing his cock down, forcing it up and hard.

They would break their hosts in, one way or another. The taboo of ‘incest’, as the hosts thought of it, would need to be shattered.

And since there was pleasure in the act, it would remind them that obeying the Nest, regardless of the demanded action, would always feel good.

Applejack-Drone leaned against one of the buildings, the host keeping her tail up and off to the side. It took almost no time for Big Mac-Drone to leap over her, putting that fat cock between her rump cheeks, and push in. The squelching feeling of her pucker spreading, the sensation of that flared tip pushing deeper and deeper, was a pleasure to Applejack-Drone, and the parasite made the pleasure stronger.

There would be no greater reward than doing what the Nest demanded.

There was no greater joy than being infested.

They would learn.

And they would break to it.

Mr. Cake was the last of the Cake family to be infested, mostly because he had been the one that took longest to try the new goods once Dapper-Drone actually convinced them all to sell them. The baker had wanted to keep the bakery more…how did he put it? Wholesome? Something along those lines. He forgot most of them these days, considering that the parasite in him was anything but wholesome.

He stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed over slightly as the business hummed along. Pinkie Pie and Mrs. Cake were working hard in the backroom, and he knew for a fact what they were doing. He had seen it, been part of it, knew that it was perverted and terrible in the eyes of the rest of the town.

But he, himself, no longer cared. Mr. Cake was a good host, a good drone.

Or at least, that was what his parasite kept telling him.

Good. You are good. You do what you are told. You take orders. Just like you’ve always done.

The Nest was his client, now.

The Nest was his best customer.

And if his best customer wanted to have some hosts sent to its door, wrapped up in a happy drugged cloud, then he would make sure that the Nest got what it wanted. It was just the way that business went.

His head was fuzzy, his mind all kinds of unfocused when there was nothing to do. As the one stallion of the business, he spent all his time either cumming what was left of his brains out in the back, seasoning and soaking various batter mixes with the drugged seed that the parasite helped him create, or he stood out front to take orders and ensure that nobody started poking around the backroom. Both roles were easy, but it was even easier to just fall asleep in his own head when he was not required to actively do something. The parasite was always awake, after all, and that meant that the host was only technically needed.

In truth, Mr. Cake enjoyed the frequent mental naps and vacations. He had been a hard worker all his life, and being able to take some time off, allowing his body to work while his mind stayed asleep, was a gift. He vaguely remembered being told that it was a gift at some point and not believing it at the time, but these days, he was completely on-board with that way of seeing it. Why would he view it any other way? He could rest, actually rest, while working, and that would have been impossible with anything but the Nest.

The door dinged quietly, and the half-sleeping mind of Mr. Cake pulled forward, drawn out of the back of his skull by the parasite. He smiled at the yellow-furred, small-winged pegasus that had just stepped in.

“Hey, Fluttershy,” he said with the same friendly voice that he’d always had, modulated ever so slightly to cover the low-level buzz of arousal that the parasite always induced. “Here for Angel’s weekly treats?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

“Gotta say, you take good care of him. You’d probably be good at taking care of other ponies, heh.”

“Oh, well, I don’t – I mean, maybe.”

There was always that shyness, that embarrassment to Fluttershy, and that had made it hard for the various hosts to get close to her. She had distanced herself to some degree from her friends once they had all come of age, becoming more bonded with nature than with other ponies. Getting the other wielders of the Elements of Harmony to infest her had proven difficult, if not impossible; she didn’t seem to interact with them enough for that to happen.

But they couldn’t just leave her as a loose end, either. They needed her out of the picture, just like the other wielders. No danger to the Nest could be allowed to stay.

Thus, the treats. She always came in for special baked treats for her animals, and it was in the memory of the Cakes that she sometimes bought something for herself, too. It was up to them to make sure that she got snagged, eventually, by the new ‘special’ goods. Sooner or later, she would taste one.

Mr. Cake smiled, knowing that he was doing good work for the Nest, and grateful as ever that he had the chance to prove himself a worthwhile acquisition by the greater being.

“Can I recommend a cake for yourself?” he asked.

Dapper-Drone reached the library with the rest of the hosts, and they stepped inside. The ‘business meeting’ that happened once a week – as Westin-Drone had not only taken up the sponsorship of Twilight-Drone’s various experiments, but had also become an investor in the library to cover his many visits – was well-known at this point. The various patrons that were looking through the library books barely batted an eye as the group of hosts walked down the aisles and lanes of the many bookshelves, making their way to the rear of the library and their real goal. The basement door was unlocked – no need for security these days, due to Twilight-Drone’s magic casting a repulsion spell on it – and the six hosts made their way down.

Unsurprisingly, the basement was much different than it had been when they’d first arrived nearly two months ago. The Nest had all but killed the lower roots of the library tree, and the trunk of the tree was showing some extreme damage along the sides. There was no denying that it was in sorry shape, and Dapper-Drone imagined that it would have perhaps another three months before the tree itself was completely dead. Another month after that, and the Nest’s boughs would spread out over Ponyville, visible to all.

They had a time limit, but it was a generous one. They were making good time, and soon enough, they would have all serious threats taken care of. Anything that happened after that, they could explain away with the figures of authority that the Nest had under its thumb.

Twilight-Drone was backed up and docked to the Nest-tree already, her eyes glazed over with her communion to the Nest. She was the only one there; it must have been a slow day with the infestation of hosts.

No, that was wrong. They had made a decision that hosts would be brought around after-hours, taken in through a new hole in the trunk around the back, where they wouldn’t be seen or wondered after. That was it.

The four drones that carried the full sync-information were quick to turn in place, backing up slowly towards the Nest with their tails rising fast. Their puckers were pre-lubed, as this was legitimately their only function, and the tendrils of the Nest rose to meet them. Dapper-Drone always envied them the fact that they got to go first, downloading everything to the Nest for its sake, while he had to stand and wait for his turn.

His head pounded, and the parasite did what it could to mitigate the discomfort. It wasn’t much; there was only so much a thing in charge of the body could do to alter the discomfort of the brain.

“This host is…oddly entertained with the view,” Westin-Drone said.

“Your host is debauched.”

“It is. It is still odd.”

“You have not had to punish it?”

“I am forbidden,” Westin-Drone said.

“Ah. Interesting.”

“You are not?”

“I have felt no need.”

And that was the truth. Dapper-Drone and his parasite had been more or less on an even keel with each other – as even as one could be with a creature that controlled one’s entire body – since the reprogramming. Twilight-Drone’s rescue had led to a rebalancing of power between hosts and parasites, and he…well, he behaved himself. He worked hard. He did what he could even without the push from the parasite, and it allowed him a few liberties, such as thoughts of curiosity from time to time. Considering that the curious thoughts always led to growth spurts for the Nest, it was considered useful to allow his mind to wander.

He was aware that most hosts and parasites did not live under the same relationship. They were stricter, often more forced, and relied entirely on the programming that the Nest offered. Some rare ponies, those like him that had greater or lesser irritations with the disorder of society, had welcomed their parasitic overlords and submitted to them with glee. They were in the minority, however, and were often seen as freaks, even by the Nests.

Useful ones, however, so they were given the acknowledgement that they deserved.

“The Mayor needs to be dealt with,” Westin-Drone said.

“This host is aware.”

“There is a plan?”

“The possibility of one.”

“From the Nest?”

“From one of them.”

There were many possibilities, after all, and a cure could be found in many different ways. It was a matter of how to apply it more than anything else, and that would require Nest authorization.

The downloading was faster than it had been in the past, and far more stressful on the bodies of those involved. The four host-ponies that carried the encoded data in their heads were stiff, their eyes rolled back in their sockets until one could only see white, and a mix of shaft-slime and sex juices rolled out from between their hind legs. The stallions were almost constantly squirting against the floor, the rolled surface carrying the slime down to the drain, while the females were soaking their hind legs, leaving the air rich with pheromones that were getting thicker and thicker by the second.

And yet, despite that, none of them showed the pleasure on their face. They were blank, not even talking to each other as they were downloaded to the Nest’s core.

Dapper-Drone knew that they were different from the average pony-host, that they were altered to be purely information-carriers. Their ability to interact with other ponies was minimal, disguised under the appearance of hyper-efficient secretaries when they were in public, but the moment they were in private, they were even less interactable than the other hosts. Almost the entirety of their minds and bodies were dedicated purely to the storage and transfer of information, altered by the Nests to ensure that the fidelity of their memories and concept-images were passed along with as few changes and mutations as possible.

It was marvelous and terrifying at the same time.

The process took an hour. The four ponies finally disengaged with nothing more than a step forward, all four moving in unison, and the Nest pulled all but one of its tendrils back. The last remained on offer for Dapper-Drone, though he knew that it was less ‘offer’ and more ‘requirement.’

The stallion turned around, old programming asserting itself once more as he raised his tail and deliberately backed up. He felt the usual spots, the ground worn away where the stallions and mares had clopped themselves into place dozens, hundreds of times by now. The floor had been worn in those four spots by those countless hoof-stomps, and he knew just where he needed to be as his hooves slotted into the same places.

Just as always, the tendril came down, and its slime – spread over asses, over tentacles, over everything that the Nest touched – was as familiar as always. He didn’t even have to relax; his body was conditioned to be that way the moment that his hooves touched their proper places.

Squelch.

The tentacle went in, and he felt the connection. A short, sharp shock that linked his mind with the Nest. He rode it, falling inward, feeling the slight link that he always did, but with a different sensation behind it than the one in the hospital.

That Nest felt the need to uplift, to ‘cure’ the various ponies around it by making them hosts. There was a feeling that it ‘thought’ that it had a purpose, a reason to do what it did. There was a feeling that it was justified in what it was doing, because it was doing something that ultimately benefited everything around it.

There was none of that with the original Nest. This one, more than anything else, just acted. It felt no justification, but it didn’t need such a thing. The only reason that it existed, the only reason that it did what it did, was to grow and spread. Spread and grow. There had always been a hint of its need to control ever since it made contact with Dapper-Drone, but rather than being formed by that, the original Nest had made the needs of Dapper-Drone its own, and shaped itself around it, creating a life and mindset that was something all its own.

It called for the information in his head – a list of patients, a list of new drones, bits and pieces that the hospital Nest had synced to him – and he gave it, sending it right down the line. He felt the presence of Twilight-Drone off to the side, and he felt the vault of various pony personalities that were inside of the Nest, as he always did. There was an echo each time he was synced with the Nest, an echo that he knew was the download of his own mind from all those months ago now. Two months. Just two months, and yet, that reflection of him deep in the Nest’s mind felt like someone else completely.

It was amazing what happened when one was no longer deciding things for themselves. There was so much that changed, so much that no longer mattered. And even knowing that he had become someone else, someone that was not even slightly connected to the old him, didn’t bother him.

Not much.

Not anymore.

The Nest ceased the download, and before he could enjoy the feeling of space in his skull, it pushed. The image-concepts were coming, and it was…

It could not be said to be consulting with him, because that would imply that he had an equality to the Nest, something that no drone did. It was not asking his advice, but rather pushing ideas through his head, seeing what happened when such concepts and loose plans ran into the knowledge that the host and informed parasite had of the world outside of the basement. Data was the Nest’s domain; reaction was the domain of the host-ponies.

It, too, had desires for the removal of Mayor Mare. While the hospital Nest saw the Mayor as an interfering function that should be cured for the greater good of the hosts and the parasites as a whole, the original Nest saw her as a genuine threat. It saw her as something that would not only incidentally harm the cause, but would seek them out. The original Nest had the realization that they were more of the infection than the cure, and the Mayor – inasmuch as the metaphor continued – was the medicine attempting to apply itself time and time again. Sooner or later, she would get lucky, and they had to remove her. Forcibly, if required, and the first concept-image showed that plan.

Dapper-Drone mentally flinched away from the scene of rape that the Nest hit him with, knowing that the plan was doomed to failure almost instantly. While they could build up to such a point, just ambushing her and fucking her full of a young parasite was all but guaranteed to attract attention. Their host population was growing, but they had scarcely a quarter of Ponyville at this point, certainly not enough to cover them if the Mayor was able to start calling for help. Considering that she never traveled alone these days, that meant that there was little chance of catching her off-guard, even if they could outnumber her in the alleys and elsewhere in Ponyville.

Three other plans were pushed up his spine, each one of a similar nature. The original Nest had less ‘compassion’ than the one in the hospital, more concerned about results than about the kindness or the ease of which they could be accomplished. It was more willing to sacrifice a member of the Nest – one with less overall value – if it meant getting what it needed in the long run. It would throw one of them into the meat-grinder – it would throw ten of them – if it meant getting a high-value target like the Mayor.

Yet, each plan had problems. Some obstacles were less, some greater, but none of them would work. Not in the current situation. Not when they were still in the minority.

Dapper-Drone could feel the rising frustration in the link between them. It would turn to the pain of frustration and dissatisfaction, soon, and he strained to think of a concept-image to send back to the Nest.

Twilight-Drone came to his rescue. The tentative link that she shared with the Nest as a booster to its thoughts had allowed her some access, as well, or so he imagined. He felt her pushing something into the link, a modification of the various traps and physical ambushes that the original Nest had conceived of.

It was a plan that involved Westin-Drone, the Apple family, Rarity-Drone, the Cake business, and even Twilight-Drone herself. The Mayor was coming near to her re-election campaign, and this year, she was facing someone that would actually be a challenge to her continued reign over Ponyville – and someone that happened to be a host, as well, though the Mayor didn’t know that. She would need backing, someone with bits, someone with connections.

Westin-Drone could be that connection, and to hold it as a celebration of sorts, an announcement of support for the Mayor, would require a gathering. That gathering, catered by the corrupted and infested Apple Family and the Cakes baked goods, would spread all kinds of addictive goods to the attendees, and with a big social event like that in the offing, Rarity – now infested herself – would be called upon for various private meetings with the different attendees. Consultations with Twilight-Drone with different party-goers would allow for many different moments in the privacy of other houses, too.

The plan, essentially, shifted the focus from converting all of Ponyville, one step at a time, to massing the resources of their currently-infested hosts on the allies and friends of the Mayor. Every person that she’d bring to the party would have some reason or other to meet with the various infested hosts, either for clothes, food, or something else, and would either be an addict or a full host by the time that the party rolled around. That night, the Mayor would be completely alone, helpless against the Nest.

What would come afterward wouldn’t be an announcement of Westin-Drone’s support, but rather, the Mayor resigning, becoming an ambassador between towns, using her name and reputation to continue having access to other mayors across the country. The new drone-host would become the new Mayor, uncontested, and the next phase of the conspiracy would move forward.

Ponyville would fall shortly after, since any position of authority could be filled with a host-pony, and they could put some of their resources towards expanding to another area. Another town. Another city.

Twilight-Drone’s plan was acceptable to the Nest, and Dapper-Drone was spared the pain of dissatisfaction. They were told to prepare, and prepare they would.

Chapter 15

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Applejack-Drone was still getting used to the feeling of being a host. There was less mental confusion, as the drone pony had been put to work quite well, and there had been several moments of utter submission to the parasite inside of her – and to the will of the Nest to be broken in properly – but there was still that vague sense of being…other. Something that wasn’t quite fitting, something that was still finding its purpose.

The purpose is the Nest.

Yes, that was the drone’s overall purpose, but what was its specific purpose? There was still that faint hint of what Applejack-Drone had been before being infested that lingered, ever genuine about its feelings, and…

And…

Well, it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Applejack-Drone had orders, and the occasional moment of slightly melancholy of not knowing itself properly were not going to stop it from fulfilling those orders. When the moments finally stopped – as the drone believed they would, eventually, as they had already lessened compared to the confusion and frustration of the initial days – then the drone would be completely settled into its role as part of the Nest. That would be the start of a proper life for itself.

For now, Applejack-Drone did the same thing that the rest of its infested family did, and continued putting up posters for Dapper-Bit Twist for the upcoming election.

Elect Dapper-Drone.

Remove Mayor Mare.

Infest Mayor Mare.

Use influence to prop up Dapper-Drone.

Maintain control.

That was the overall plan for removing the mayor from power. The main Nest beneath the library tree had accepted that as a plan, and the hospital Nest had agreed with the idea that they needed to ‘cure’ the mayor of her freedom in order to ensure the safety of all drones. Removing her from power would be ideal, but even if Dapper-Drone didn’t win, it would force Mayor Mare to come out in the open again and campaign since she finally had a challenger for the role. And considering how many people in Ponyville knew Dapper-Drone for his previous trade-work among the pony populace, there were sufficient people that would vote for him as a change from the previous administration.

Even if he couldn’t win, it would force the Mayor into the open and make her show her face, which would lead to more openings for the Nest to infest her. Then, whoever won the election would still be a host, and still have power over the rest of the town.

And when that happened, the Nest could move openly to convert and infest the rest of them. Simple plan. Simple solution. No lose conditions.

Applejack-Drone moved mechanically from post to post along the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, sticking up one poster after another. Without anyone on the road during the height of the afternoon, the Nest-parasite inside of her kept her movements efficient, direct, never wasting motion. It would have been almost mechanical, less like a living being and more like something else, if anyone had been watching.

All the way down the line of the fence, other members of the Apple family were doing the same. They moved in sync with each other, each hammering hoof coming down at the same time, driving nails through the posters and then moving on.

Every.

Single.

Time.

The motion was only broken when the sound of a rolling wagon broke their rhythm. All members of the family stopped, moving further off, some hopping the fence to attend to apple-bucking while others wandered about, socializing on pre-assigned scripts from the Nest. Applejack-Drone put on a smile, ready to socialize with whatever was coming down the road –

Then she saw it was Twilight-Drone.

The purple-furred alicorn wore the same fake smile that she did. It was so convincing that it was almost enough to make her wonder if the brains of the group had been freed from the Nest, somehow, but the parasite within recognized the same stress and strain at the corner of the mouth as was on hers. There were no worries; they were just that good at faking being ‘free.’

Without a need to fake it, her smile dropped, and she moved robotically to meet the approaching alicorn and her wagon. Friends might have nodded, smiled, waved a hoof at each other, but nothing of the sort passed between the two hosts. They barely acknowledged each other with a glance before they met up.

“Exchange?” Applejack-Drone said.

“No need. Conversion soon.”

“Who?”

“Rainbow Dash.”

The parasite within was surprised. There had been thoughts and options bandied about regarding converting one of the last remaining users of the Elements of Harmony, but there hadn’t been any finalized plans the last time Applejack-Drone had synced with one of the nests. There was no more than a surprised blink.

“When?”

“Two hours.”

“Not long. Forced?”

“Drugged.”

“Already made?”

“No.”

That meant that they’d have to make the drugged drinks. Thankfully, the Apple family had plenty of members. They would be able to drug enough cider for that.

But they needed more information, and talking wasn’t going to cut it. Both drones seemed to become aware of that at the same time. Applejack-Drone helped Twilight-Drone out of the harness that held her to the cart, pulling her free before following her to the back of the wagon. The plan had been to bring a sapling out eventually, and so Applejack-Drone wasn’t entirely surprised to see one in the back. Then again, she wasn’t sure that she could feel much in the way of true surprise any longer.

They backed up to the potted plant, their eyes on the road. Anything coming from the other direction would be spotted by the other Apple family members and handled, while they would be able to see anything coming from the Ponyville directions. They lifted their tails, and the sapling did its work.

Squelch.

They were penetrated instantly, filled up and spread wide by the Nest plant. Applejack and Twilight both stomped one hoof, almost like a physical ‘click’ as the connection was made. For a moment, she felt nothing but pleasure, and Applejack-Drone savored the feeling as her holes clenched harder and harder around the tendril rammed inside of her tight little anus.

Clench.

The contrast between her body’s reaction and the mare’s own thoughts were…intense, and Applejack-Drone was still just barely aware enough to notice it. Her head, her thoughts, her needs, were all suppressed beneath the Nest’s commands, but the pleasure still struck her body enough to leave her dripping between her hind legs. Her sex oozed, pulsing, slicking up more and more with each passing bit of tingling zaps up her spine. Her body craved the intense stimulation, but her mind…

Her mind was…suppressed, buried, held down by something. She didn’t have to think, couldn’t think, and she didn’t really want to. It was easy, easier, easiest to just let the Nest do all the thinking and acting for her. They had the answers; all she had to do was be a good host and she would get the rewards that she craved.

Pulse.

She slipped further and further down into that obedient state. If she’d been ‘free,’ she was vaguely aware that her tongue would have been lolling out, her holes clenching like mad, her hips pushing back to take things further. She would have wanted something sliding over her sex, rather than just grinding against her other hole. There would have been so many things she would have done or said just to get that little bit more that she needed. Orgasm? That wasn’t something that mattered; only the continuing stimulation, the constant pleasure that came with linking with another pony.

That was all. That was everything.

In the background of that intense pleasure, however, Applejack-Drone was allowed to understand some of the plan. Rainbow Dash had heard of the campaigning that Dapper-Bit was doing, and the free mare was curious. Twilight-Drone had suggested that Rainbow Dash come down and see what was going on herself, to ask questions and join her in a visit to the Apple family farm. The isolation would be perfect for dragging the other mare into a party, and that, in turn, would be perfect for getting her nice and drunk on the fluids of the infested. From there –

Yes. Now that they had a Nest-sapling, they wouldn’t even need to take Rainbow Dash back to town; they could do it all right here, where nobody could see. Sweet Apple Acres could become a place outside town to take travelers or others that needed to be infested without going through town in the first place. Very well-planned.

Yes.

Yes, that would work. That would bring one more into the fold, and that would only leave Fluttershy outside it. They would have all the different members of that little group then. And from there…

Applejack-Drone would never have been able to come up with the plans that the Nest had, and she was amazed at its complexity and simplicity at the same time. Using all the different members of their little friend-group, the Nest would have cover to spread all across Equestria. Each member would be called to deal with different problems across the country, addressing different ‘friendship’ issues as they had done for years, and in so doing, they would have the chance to bring something with them.

More saplings.

More Nests.

More reach.

They detached from the sapling. Applejack-Drone nodded. She would gather up the family and they would get started.

Applejack-Drone, Big Mac-Drone, and many other members of the Apple family clopped their way over to a large drum. They stood on a raised walkway over it, looking down at it. Normally, it was nothing more than a collection bin for apples, meant to capture some of the juices as they were slowly crushed down to the bottles further down, but today, it would serve a greater purpose.

The mares turned as one, from Applejack-Drone to her sisters and aunts, all the way out to the various cousins that had been brought into the fold. The stallions stepped forward, resting their front hooves against the walkway railings, their cocks dropping under the commands of their parasites and slowly rolling out of their sheaths, rising upward.

Applejack-Drone half-expected to feel the same commanded pleasure that she usually felt when the parasite wanted to reward her, but there was something else happening this time. Pressure on her bladder grew, and grew. A normal pony would have groaned, but she was blank-faced, silent as the fluid-pressure grew stronger and stronger under her belly.

Sex-juices weren’t what were required this time. They needed something that was a little more…plentiful.

Applejack-Drone imagined that the rest of her infested family were feeling something similar. The constantly growing pressure felt like hours of compacted drinking were coming to fruition in minutes. The feeling of holding it grew more and more intense, the sensation of weight and sloshing fluid inside getting harder and harder to resist. She stared away, her body all but paralyzed by the power of the Nest.

There was no way that the Nest-parasites could have known when all the drones were ready, but somehow, it did. When the dam broke, all members of the family urinated at once, their release hitting them simultaneously. No soft groans of relief filled the air, no sudden huffs and moans. There was only the silent, regulated breathing of the family and the soft hiss-rush of their piss hitting the great drum beneath them.

There was no need to look behind; she could imagine the golden flows running from mare slits and stallion cocks. They would not pulse, not clench, just…run. More, and more, and more flowed through, and for once, it was completely scentless, odorless as it ran out of them and flooded down to the containers below.

There would be no warning for Rainbow Dash when she had her drinks. There’d be no knowledge that this was as much part of the fun as the cider she’d be drinking. Nothing would clue her in, and she’d be part of the Nest very, very soon.

The relief of the pressure inside was almost as good as the constant pleasure of the Nest, though it was a different sort of thing for the frozen mare. She could feel the constant flow squirting from her, running out endlessly, and the slow easing of the pressure in her middle was a lovely sensation. It was pleasure in its own way, and she was suddenly aware that she had another reward that she might be given by the parasite.

After all, if the Cakes and some other bakers might be kept on a seed-milking duty, might not some mares and others be kept on producing ‘cider’ like this? Perhaps; she would have to wait until the idea passed from her parasite to the Nest to find out.

The flow eventually tapered off. When the last dribble left her sex, she – and all the rest of the Apple clan – stomped a hind hoof before turning around. They looked down at the collected fluids at the bottom of the drum, their parasites measuring whether it would be enough.

It was decided that it would be.

The plan was already known to the entire clan. Applejack-Drone walked away with Big Mac-Drone while the rest of the family went to get more of the cider that they’d already made. They would need to mix it for the drinking later, and that would take time. For now, she would go and meet with Twilight-Drone again.

They had to figure out their script, after all.

It was a short task, thankfully; connecting to the sapling allowed the Nest to access both her memories and Twilight-Drone’s. From there, it was able to build up a list of potential believable interactions that they could follow while trying to trick Rainbow Dash into a drinking contest, and from there, how they would run it.

The final decision, of course, was made by the Nest, but the hosts had some input. Not much, but some. Applejack vetoed anything that had Twilight winning by magic; as playful as the alicorn could be, she would not cheat in a game, and that would raise Rainbow Dash’s suspicion. Likewise, the alicorn vetoed the idea that Applejack should get too tipsy and flirty; she was a friendly mare, but she didn’t get actively horny like that while drunk, so it wouldn’t work as a ‘story.’

They weren’t allowed to cancel ideas because they were embarrassing or because they were not comfortable with the idea. If they were, that would have ended half of the ideas that the Nest had for their ‘script.’ If anything, they weren’t even aware that they could be embarrassed any longer; certainly, Applejack-Drone didn’t feel that, even when she was supposed to ‘lose’ enough to become a kiss-ass for Rainbow Dash. Literally. Such a thought would have burned her down to her soul before, but in this case, it was only turned down because she didn’t really believe that she would have done that, and neither would their friend.

In the end, they found a workable ‘script,’ one where Twilight would be the mediator between the likely-irritated blue pegasus and the more passionate Applejack. They would play that up for a time, then go for drinks to calm down. Twilight would get very drunk and start ‘passing out,’ able to sneak in spells from time to time, while the earth pony would keep drinking with Rainbow Dash, playing up their rivalry.

It was a simple script, but one that fit them. It would work.

Twilight-Drone remained by the wagon and Applejack-Drone trotted over to the trees. It didn’t take long for the rumbling sound of the pegasus’s approach to fill her ears, and she turned her attention to the sky.

A half-second later, Rainbow Dash all but punched through the branches over her head. The blue mare landed with a soft thump a second later, the earth cracking from the impact. Not so hard as it used to when she sonic-rainboomed everywhere, but enough to be seen. Rainbow Dash shook her head as she jostled herself back to a comfortable position, furling her wings.

“What the hay have I been hearing about you putting up campaign posters?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“You talking about the Dapper-Bit stuff?”

“Yeah! Mayor Mare’s been a friend for a long time. Why the heck are you trying to get her outta office?”

“Well, maybe it’s time for a change,” Applejack said, shrugging. “The Apple family’s been on the edge of town for a long time, and Ponyville relied on us for a lot of work for a long, long time. Did we ever get anything for it?”

“You never asked!”

“We shouldn’t have to. We should get paid, same as the rest of y’all, but all we got were ‘thank you’ this and ‘thank you’ that. No bits, nothing. At least Dapper-Bit gets the fact that we need a little bit of that.”

Applejack-Drone didn’t actually think that, of course. Or at least, she hadn’t thought it until the Nest parasite gave her the words. Then she believed it wholeheartedly, enough to make the act completely convincing for her ‘friend.’ There was no interest from the Nest in who won or lost the election, of course; the point was to make sure that they had a winner regardless of who actually got the post. The point was only to rile up her friend to the point where she wasn’t making good decisions.

And Rainbow Dash was clearly getting more and more riled up. She lifted a front hoof and poked Applejack-Drone in the chest.

“Now you listen here, missy. I get you getting angry about not getting appreciated; I had to deal with the same thing. You think that I got all that fame overnight with the Wonderbolts? But you can’t just throw a friend under the bus. That’s wrong!”

“So’s the way that we’re getting treated. What if you went to all those races and were expected to just fly around without getting anything?”

“I said I get it! I had to –”

“You still get applause, don’t ya! And all that prize money? Why can’t we get a fair share compared to all the other ponies that get paid for their work?”

For all that the mare was shouting, the drone didn’t actually feel any of the emotions that they were pretending to be in the grip of. All they felt was the consistent pressure to keep performing, to stick to the script. Everything about their self-righteous anger and the way that they were completely throwing the current mayor away was getting to the blue pegasus, and she was all but shaking in anger.

Not much more. Just a little push and –

“That Mayor Mare is completely outta touch. She needs to be put out to pasture and –”

“That’s it!”

Rainbow Dash lunged for her. The first hoof-punch was just hard enough to knock Applejack-Drone down, rolling to the side. Just as the script had expected, they’d started a fight, and now, they had to deal with that.

Perfect.

The scuffle came to a halt when Twilight-Drone ‘found’ them, stumbling across the smoke cloud of their squabble. The alicorn’s magic was more than enough to pull them apart without any effort, and they were set down further apart from each other, well out of kicking range.

Applejack-Drone faked wanting to keep the fight going, straining against the magic that held her down, while Rainbow Dash did the same. The two mares growled and all but snarled at one another. Twilight-Drone cleared her throat.

“Girls, what is going on?”

“She’s just throwing Mayor Mare out like trash. Just because she’s older doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have what it takes!”

“Uh-huh. And who threw the first punch?”

“Well, um…” Rainbow Dash slowed her struggles. “Well, um…that would be me, but –”

“Uh-huh. But nothing. We’re supposed to be friends. And you’re going to start kicking your friend just because she disagrees with you on one little thing?”

“It’s not a little thing!”

“Rainbow Dash. You know that things have to change. Everything does, even Princesses Celestia and Luna.”

Applejack-Drone judged how much of a struggle to put out by watching the free-pony. When Rainbow Dash started to slump against the magical control, the host pony did the same. When Rainbow struggled, she renewed her thrashing against Twilight-Drone’s spell. It wasn’t comfortable to her, physically, but it could have been worse. Much worse.

Thankfully, the blue pegasus slumped against the spell more often than not. Rainbow Dash shook her head.

“I just…I don’t like change. She’s been there since we were kids, girls. I just…why does she have to go?”

“Sometimes, things have to change,” Twilight-Drone said, shaking her head. Applejack-Drone could see she was wearing a mask that the Nest had told her to wear, an expression of compassion that she didn’t really feel stretched across her face. “The world changes all the time. We can’t stop that. And Mayor Mare’s had a good run. But even if Applejack thinks that things have to change, that doesn’t mean that they will, just that they can. Mayor Mare might win the election, you know. Or are you so scared that you’re trying to beat up everyone that challenges her?”

“…When you put it like that…”

“Heh, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“Heh…Yeah.” Rainbow Dash scuffed the ground with one front hoof. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me. Say sorry to Applejack.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash said, turning to face her properly. “I wasn’t thinking and…yeah. That was pretty bad.”

“…Apology accepted, sugar cube.”

“Now, why don’t we have a little cooling-down drink, huh? Applejack, it’s about time for the cider to be done, right?”

“Yeah, I reckon.”

“Think you can spare a few bottles for me and Rainbow Dash?”

“Heh, I think I can spare a whole lot more than that, hon.”

Twilight-Drone dropped after the first bottle of cider, while Applejack-Drone and Rainbow Dash kept drinking behind the barn. The ‘unconscious’ purple alicorn occasionally giggled in her ‘sleep,’ but it was only a sign that she was still there, still taking action now and then.

Like making sure that the roots on the ground came up and wrapped around Rainbow Dash’s hind legs when she wasn’t paying attention.

Like the fact that the rest of the family had been summoned without a word while they were drinking.

Like the way that Rainbow Dash had been surreptitiously teased by leaves on the ground, flicking across her increasingly puffy nethers while she kept drinking.

“Heh, you think…you think you can outdrink me, Apples?” Rainbow Dashed slurred as she worked down to the bottom of her fourth bottle. “Ain’t a mare in Ponyville or Cloudsdale that can keep up with me.”

“Yeah? Well, you put your money where your mouth is and keep on drinking, hic.”

It was just an affected hiccup, but it clearly kept Rainbow Dash convinced that she was winning. She thumped her bottle down on the stump between them and reached for her fifth bottle, popping it with a light blow of her hoof and slugging it down.

Applejack-Drone was mostly faking her own drunkenness, but if it hadn’t been for the parasite and the Nest’s support, the host would have been in trouble some time ago. Despite being watered down with their infected, drugged urine, the cider was still quite alcoholic, and it was hitting her body fairly hard. Without the parasite’s help, she would have been rather wobbly, and then some.

But Rainbow Dash was pushing it harder and harder, and probably didn’t even realize how far gone she was. The drugs in the drinks were making her more and more tipsy, her body wobbling one way and then the other, and the smell of mare pussy was getting stronger and stronger as she gave in to the pleasure that the drink gave her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Twilight-Drone nod. They were right at the point where Rainbow Dash should be weak enough to play with. She pushed her bottle to the side, and Twilight-Drone righted herself, sitting up and flicking out her wings. The rest of the family pulled closer, the Apple family moving on silent hooves, quick and in sync with each other. Each step was somehow that much more menacing when you realized that it was being copied by a dozen other ponies at the same time without a hint of variation.

As soon as Rainbow Dash slammed her drink down, Applejack-Drone leaped across the stump. The tipsy pegasus slumped back, her legs pinned in place, looking like someone lying on her back with her legs bent. She couldn’t stop giggling from the impact. Her wings were splayed out at her sides as she looked up between Applejack-Drone’s hind legs. She didn’t even complain; she just giggled again.

“What? You want me to look at your – hic – your pussy? Since when did you get all lez on me, huh? Or were you – hic – flirting all that – mmph!”

The drone moved her hips forward, covering the pegasus’s mouth with her pussy. The feeling of someone else down there was pleasant, there was no doubt about that, but there was no reason to think about that. The only thing she had to do was release.

It came quickly; all the cider that she’d been drinking had gone right to her bladder, been concentrated further from the already-drugged state that it was in, and came out stronger than ever. Rainbow Dash had a split-second where her eyes went wide from the fact that her ‘friend’ was peeing on her, only to start rolling back again.

“Nnngh…guh…mmmph…”

Her legs were twitching, thrusting, her hips trying to buck off the ground as the hyper-intense drink started to take effect. The slow rushing fluid from Applejack-Drone was its own sort of pleasure, but to see how it affected the cocky little pegasus was something else. She went from a mild protest to a whimpering moan, and finally –

“NNNGH!”

Rainbow Dash thrust her hips in the air, cumming from nothing more than the drugs in Applejack-Drone’s urine. She kept thrusting her hips, squirting as her pussy clenched down on nothing, trying to get something more than what she was getting.

But no more was to be had.

The flow continued for nearly a minute, the pressure on the mare’s bladder finally diminishing as she felt it all go out. Her thighs, Rainbow Dash’s face, and the ground were all soaked with her release. There was nothing dry between them, and the mare beneath her squirmed, whimpering, her eyes already starting to glaze over.

Applejack-Drone moved on, and Big Mac-Drone took her place. The stallion squatted, lowering his hips over Rainbow Dash’s face. She barely managed to groan, perhaps a little whimper leaving her mouth before that cock slipped right between her lips. No thrusting, no fucking, just a slow…steady…release.

Applejack-Drone joined Twilight-Drone, the two mares watching the progression of the Apple family as the various ponies formed a line, waiting to take their turn in drugging the rambunctious, soon-to-be-converted mare. It wouldn’t take long before Rainbow Dash was so out of it that she didn’t even have the energy to stay conscious, and once that happened, they could take her to the sapling to convert her properly. She would become one of the Nest-Drones soon enough.

The mares didn’t look at each other. There was no point; they were aware of the plan, and neither of them felt anything approaching guilt. The fact that Rainbow Dash had been their friend until their infestation didn’t matter; they were devoted to the Nest, not each other, and that meant that any sacrifice was worth it. They would bring all beneath the Nest, and the world would change.

The world will change…

It almost felt like her parasite was taking that thought and keeping hold of it. Applejack-Drone didn’t know what that would mean in the future, but she realized that she didn’t really care. For her, she was getting exactly what she needed. All her food and housing and everything else was taken care of. Her family were all under the same umbrella with the Nest, and that meant that there was no more arguing.

And now, they would have a new sapling of the Nest of their own, something that would mark them as worthwhile. The hospital, the farm, and the first: the first trio of Nests, but far from the last.

Big Mac-Drone moved on, and his place was taken with another mare-drone. The line of the Apple family stretched off toward the trees, all of them waiting to give Rainbow Dash another welcoming dose of their drugged urine. Applejack-Drone and Twilight-Drone watched, ensuring that the pegasus wouldn’t cause any problems, and when Rainbow didn’t struggle under the fourth pony, they went for the cart.

No words.

No guilt.

No questions.

Applejack-Drone took the front of the wagon, sliding into the harness waiting there, while Twilight-Drone pushed it from behind. They walked it to the barn, taking it inside, and slowly unloaded the sapling. It would grow and merge into the barn, Applejack-Drone remembered from their linking with it earlier, and when it was done, it would be part of the greater structure. It would become something new, something different from the two trees that had formed elsewhere.

The Nest must always adapt, and each new generation knew that better than the one before. The new sapling would know it better than the first Nest, and the next one would know it better still.

They would grow, they would consume, and they would take control. Everyone would soon fall under the Nest, and be part of it.

All would be drones.

Chapter 16

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The pegasus groaned as she felt other ponies start nudging her along. The faint smell of…something – was it…was it piss? – on her face and down her cheeks was both indistinct and strong at the same time. It didn’t smell bad, not like the real thing would, but it smelled…smelled like something else, something that made her feel good, hot, floaty. It was impossible for her to settle, her thoughts flitting about for a few seconds only to be smothered beneath that blanket of warmth and…and need, for lack of a better word.

The blue-furred pegasus giggled as she was dragged along, her hind legs leaving trails in the dirt behind her as the rest of the Apple family pulled her toward the barn. How late was it? Late enough that…

“Mmmph…”

A little droplet had run down her face to her lips. Another little taste, another little shiver of pleasure down her spine as it hit. She’d had some fun with cider before, but this was the first time that the drink had made her so horny. Her pussy was drenched, oozing between her hind legs and staining the ground as she was pulled along.

“Hehehe…anyone else…wanna have fun?”

There was no response. Just a rhythmic, unbroken clop, clop, clop of hoofbeats as the Apple family dragged her on. No response, no nothing. Just…just a slow pull toward her destination.

The barn was dim. Rainbow Dash shrugged as she was pushed inside, guessing that she’d be left to sleep off her drunken stupor. But was she –

“Mmmph…”

One of the Apple mares squatted down, a stream of piss playing over her face. She had just enough time to think that it was a little wrong, a little gross before the pleasure hit her again. All it took were a few droplets getting past her lips and into her mouth and she was fine again, happy and drifting along.

They dragged her through the mud. High, happy, drunk, the pegasus mare was happy to go along with it. Even when they fitted her to some sort of rubber-metal frame, she didn’t care. When they pushed her tail to the side, grinding something against the ground behind her, she didn’t do anything but giggle. Her head lolled to one side then the other as she looked at old friends, old companions…

Except…they didn’t look back in the same way.

There were no smiles, no expressions of concern. There wasn’t even that slightly judgmental look that she was used to seeing from the older mares of the family. There was nothing; their faces, and eyes, were empty.

What the hay…

Rainbow Dash tried to think through the haze that had settled over her, trying to push through it, but it was so…so hard. Her thoughts moved at a snail’s pace when she could think at all, and everything felt completely smothered, pulled under the warmth that had settled in her head. It would be so much easier to just give in and be happy, horny, and sleepy, but…but there was something –

“Ah!”

Rainbow Dash gasped, her eyes opening wide for a split-second as something pushed under her tail. Thick, almost wooden, save for the fact that it was smooth as could be. It spread her asshole wide, her pussy doing the same a second later as a different tendril pushed inside that hole. Her mouth hung open, a string of drool running past her lips.

“This one will be infested,” she heard Twilight say.

“It will take all night with the sapling.”

“It will be sufficient.”

“It will be different.” Applejack. What? “Different than us.”

“Perhaps that is for the best.”

What were they talking about? What were her friends doing? And what did ‘infested’ mean? What was happening? Why were there things inside of her holes when she was just standing there and why didn’t they feel like –

“NNGH!”

Something pulsed through her, resonating between her pussy and her asshole. Her eyes widened for a moment, all four legs spasming. She stomped, trying to bring herself to a point where she could fight against the restraints that held her, but nothing…nothing wanted to work. Even when she could lift a leg and bring it down, it was like fighting against weights that were heavier than boulders.

What…what’s happening…

She didn’t know. She couldn’t understand. She couldn’t even process what was happening around her enough to come up with any vague ideas of what it could be.

And bit by bit, the barn door closed, leaving her in darkness.

Thrust.

She wanted the thrusts to keep going. The pleasure was too good, but it was so rare. She wasn’t even sure that the things inside of her were thrusting, just that there was a sense of something moving in, out, in, out. The tingling feeling that came with it made her pussy leak and her other hole clench, keeping her all too aware of the things inside of her. It felt good. She felt good. She felt so fucking good.

Her mouth had never quite closed. The Apple family came by from time to time to ‘water’ her, either by mounting her face in the case of the males or backing up and jamming her nose between their cheeks and pissing in her mouth. The flavor was never foul; it was too mild for that, watered down, filled with…something. It always made her happy, keeping her mind empty, forcing her to only feel.

And she felt a lot. A lot. Her body was on fire with need, her holes clenching on and milking the things inside of her. Every time that she clamped down on them, something went up her spine, a tingle, a little shock that was as pleasurable as it was strange. And each time, it went a little bit higher, almost like water coming in on the beach. Higher, higher, higher, reaching toward her head.

When it finally did, she swore that she could almost hear a voice, whispering, cajoling, pulling at her. She couldn’t help but listen as it whispered in her skull, little words that made no sense at first, but slowly started to form into things that she could vaguely understand.

Nest. Service. Submit. Drone.

The words themselves weren’t quite words; they were more like pictures, images, concepts that were being rammed into her and forced into her head. She wasn’t allowed to understand; she was made to understand. Each pulse, each throb up her spine, was a pulse of pleasure greater than anything that she had gotten from a stallion’s cock or a mare’s mouth. It was so good, so intense, that she was a drooling mess long before the message started to fully sink in.

Over time, her legs spread further, and the constant pressure between the raised lips of her anus and the puffier ones of her pussy started to change her. She could feel it. She could feel the way that she was looser, able to take things quicker, further, deeper. Her insides felt more…more sensitive, more eager for whatever would slide inside.

Conditioning continued, taking her further and further down the route to being a proper drone. Yes, drone, the word repeating over and over in her head, reminding her that she was no longer a mere pony, a simple pegasus, or one of the wielders of the Elements of Harmony. She was a drone, a drone that was meant to be loyal to the Nest, a creature and extension of the very thing that was fixing her, correcting her from a lifetime of being just a simple, ‘free’ pony that had made so many mistakes with her life. Wouldn’t she want to be free of all those mistakes? Wouldn’t she want to be the sort of mare that could live a life free of regrets?

No more being responsible for her own mistakes. No more being the one that had to bear the burden of guilt. All she had to do was listen, do what she was told, and be a loyal drone.

And little by little, Rainbow Dash fell into that idea, conditioned to pleasure, conditioned to the words of the Nest, and to the feeling of the things inside of her. And every time that she had even a slight question about it, another member of the Apple family showed up with another dose of that heated, mind-numbing piss.

The sun was rising. Rainbow Dash was nearly gone, her eyes barely lidded, her tongue hanging out. She hadn’t said a word for nearly two hours, she was sure, and the light that came through the open door almost hurt her as the other drones came in.

She understood, now. She understood what they were, and she understood what she was being made to be. It was all good. It was all right. There was nothing wrong with this.

Twilight-Drone and Applejack-Drone stood in front of her. They didn’t have any of the former friendship that they had shared, and some part of her hated that. Of all the things that she had lost, that treasured piece should have been irreplaceable. And yet…yet, that anger was not directed toward them, or to the Nest, but at herself. Rainbow Dash hated herself, felt so much rage for herself, for not being a good enough drone on her own. She should have gotten rid of that, should have let it go, but she couldn’t. It was…it was the last bit of her life, the part of her that she had loved for so long, and it was so hard to let go of that.

The things inside of her pulsed, and she gasped. Stomp. Clop. Front. Back. Something was pulsing through her now, something wriggling from the things inside of her to actually…actually be part of her. It was worm-like, almost like a new branch or vine or tendril. Something that was…that was pushing deeper inside, wriggling against her inner walls – mostly in her ass – and then pressing tight against it. It ached, then it tingled, and then she was…

It almost felt like she was screaming. In pleasure? Pain? No, just in pure, raw sensation as the new thing burrowed into her anal walls, roots pushing in deeper, reaching out and making contact with her spine. The same sensation-pulse that had all but broken her earlier hit her again, and again, and again, echoing out from her back and running down her legs, up her neck, through her tail and wings. Everything went numb, then hyper-sensitive, then numb again. It was like her body was being turned off, then turned on, then turned off again, each time with a pulse going to a different section of her body.

Through it all, the drones looked at her, staring, unwavering. They were watching as she was finally taken in, made part of the Nest. Made like them.

Pulse.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t move. Not just because of the restraints, but because her body was no longer her own. The things in her pussy and her asshole pulled out, dragged free. Her pucker felt like it was mildly distended, pulled out, but then it pulled back in. Her pussy, likewise, felt like it was almost gaping, but the thing inside of her clenched her muscles and pulled it back.

Pulse. Check.

Each time that she felt the sensation-pulse, Rainbow Dash was sure that she was going to fall. Her legs felt like they were about to buckle every single time, and yet, she was still standing. Barely, perhaps, but still standing, and every time that it faded, she was aware of how little control she still had of her body.

But…at the same time, it felt right to lose that. There was no need for her to be in control. Her loyalties to others had gotten her in trouble before. She’d just had a hard fight with Applejack that Twilight had to break up, because she was too loyal. Better to let that be controlled by something that knew better, something that was kind and pleasurable and better than her.

It was better to be a drone. Better to just let go. Better to allow someone else to take control and be the one calling the shots. Yes, yes, that felt right to her.

And as she submitted, something went ‘click.’ Something shifted, and she realized that she was no longer held back. She could…she could step forward, pull the things out of her holes, and just…walk away.

And yet, she didn’t.

She stood there, letting the last of the conditioning happen. She felt the first little flick of her tail, up, sideways, up, other side. It took her far too long to realize that she wasn’t the one making it happen. Far, far too long. By the time that she realized that the thing that had burrowed inside of her – the Nest parasite – was the one controlling her body, it was too late. She was…she was so far in the back of her own head that she didn’t know if she would ever come out again.

It was the Nest parasite that made her take a step forward. It was the Nest parasite that had her leave the Nest sapling and let her holes close completely without anything left inside. And it was the Nest parasite that lifted her head and made her look Applejack-Drone and Twilight-Drone in the eye.

“One more,” Rainbow Dash-Drone said, her voice coming from her lips, but they weren’t her words.

“Fluttershy,” Twilight-Drone confirmed.

“The animal watcher,” Applejack-Drone said.

“This drone will handle it,” Rainbow Dash-Drone said.

“It is capable?” Twilight-Drone asked.

“It is.”

“Strange. And different.”

“Indeed. This drone is capable, quickly.”

“This will be remembered.”

“This will be done again,” Rainbow Dash-Drone said.

It was the parasite saying it all, of course. The host was vaguely aware of the fact that this was different, unexpected. The usual conditioning took far longer, either with much greater doses of the drugged urine or other fluids, or with days with the Nest to fully indoctrinate someone before forcing something inside of them.

Having a place off the beaten path for the other pending drones would go a long way towards speeding it up. Most others wouldn’t be ready for use so quickly. She, however, was, and that meant –

“Fluttershy will be infested by the end of the day.”

Rainbow Dash-Drone.

Rainbow-Drone.

Dash-Drone.

The host didn’t know which name she would eventually settle on, whether she would stay a she or become an it, or a number of other answers to various questions. All she knew was that she was given a task by the Nest, and she would make sure that she succeeded in that task. That was all that mattered, and she was, as ever, very loyal to those that earned it.

And the Nest had earned it.

Rainbow-Drone made her way to the far end of Ponyville, past the end of the city limits and toward the small forest hut where Fluttershy made her home. She avoided most others; she knew that she was working off a small script that was meant for Fluttershy alone, and that meant that she would have a hard time hiding her droned-self from the rest of the ‘free’ ponies. She was better than most recently-infested drones, and could have pulled it off, but why risk it when she didn’t have to?

She alighted outside the hut and pulled her wings in tight. The whole place was quiet. Most of the animals that the host remembered being present were gone. Where they had disappeared to, she didn’t know, and the Nest had no information on that. It was strange, and the Nest didn’t like strange things.

But there was a task, and the task would be done. Rainbow-Drone put a smile on her face and trotted up to the door. Energy, vim and vigor, eagerness: those were the traits that the host was known for, and she had to keep embodying them.

Rap, rap. Hoof against the door. The silence that followed, however, wasn’t quite right. Rainbow-Drone waited, put on a face of concern, then hit the door again.

“Hey, Fluttershy, you there? Come ooooon, don’t keep me waiting out here.”

“R-Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, yeah, who else would it be?”

“I – I – sorry, I’m just – let me get the door.”

What followed was the sound of who knew how many tons of furniture being moved out of the way. The Nest parasite and the host were both surprised; there shouldn’t have been any security like that, unless something had gone rather wrong in the forest lately. They didn’t let it show on the mare’s face, however, and the door opened to reveal a more nervous than usual yellow pegasus.

“I’m sorry, I was just…I hear so many things lately.”

“Heh, you’ve been hearing ghost stories or something?” Rainbow-Drone asked as she walked inside.

“It sounds like it. All the animals have been talking about ponies acting strange lately. Some of them almost like those old stories we used to tell around the campfire, as if someone’s…controlling them.”

The Nest parasite was shocked, but the host kept up the slack. It had a script, after all; it was already chuckling, shaking her head as she acted the same as she always did.

“Heh, trust you to be the one jumping at ghost stories. If you really think that’s real, then I have a cloud to sell you. Fluttershy, everything’s fiiiine.”

“You sure? I mean, Angel was telling me –”

“Hey, who’s the Wonderbolt here?”

“…You are.”

“And who’s the one that goes flying all over Ponyville to take care of the weather, the clouds, and everything else?”

“…You are.”

“Do you really think that I’d miss something like that if it was really happening?”

“Well, um…maybe not…”

Fluttershy kicked the ground quietly, looking more embarrassed than usual. That was to the benefit of the Nest, of course; the more that she doubted what others said, the better for their cause.

The Nest parasite was likely going to have to make a report to the sapling back at the farm, though. Rainbow-Drone could tell that it hadn’t expected or thought about the possibility of Fluttershy getting information from the animals all around Ponyville about what was happening. If that was a risk for other ponies doing the same, they’d have to round up all the other friends that Fluttersy had and make sure that they didn’t have the same sort of skills. Natural eyes on them was not something that the Nest needed.

“Come on. You got anything to eat?” Rainbow-Drone asked. “Or drink?”

“Oh, um, I have some tea on the windowsill, and I can get us some food.”

“Awesome! You get some snacks, I’ll get the tea, and you can tell me all about these stupid little ghost stories you’re hearing. Can’t have my best friend all weirded out, right?”

“Heh…right.”

She was smiling. That meant that she was feeling better, more sure of herself; a Fluttershy that was more suspicious would have been more nervous, looking for ways to excuse herself.

As Fluttershy went to the kitchen, Rainbow-Drone pulled the pitcher of tea from the nearby windowsill. She dragged it along behind her, keeping it just out of view as she leaned around the corner of the doorframe. She kept talking as she slowly adjusted the pitcher between her hind legs.

“So, why are you still out here if you’re so sure about the ghost stories?”

“Well, um, I’m not completely sure, but…well, if they’re right, um, about the things happening in Ponyville, then, um, it’s kinda…kinda dangerous out there…”

“Heh, so why not come to me? Or Twilight?”

“They’re talking about Twilight a lot, Rainbow Dash. And –”

“Everyone talks about Twilight, though. She’s almost as big as the other princesses, remember?”

Rainbow-Drone pitched her voice up a bit, a little louder with the end of the sentence to cover the sudden clench of her inner muscles. The squeeze around her bladder, the sudden insistent pressure that ran down her insides, the sudden soft hiss of her piss exiting her urethra: it was all so vivid, something that she’d never felt so strongly before. The drone suddenly understood why the taste of the Apple family urine had been tinted with more sensual juices. It was hard not to feel excited when all of this felt so good.

“Come on. Ever since she got her wings, Twilight was going to be talked about all the time,” Rainbow-Drone continued.

“I guess. But I thought…I don’t know. I was scared she might be part of it. You know. Because of all the things that she gets so…curious about.”

“Well, curiosity never killed the cat.”

“Yes, it did. That’s the whole saying.”

“But what brought it back?”

“Satisfaction – oh.”

“Uh-huh, heh.”

It was oddly satisfying to hold a conversation while her bladder was slowly emptying itself into the pitcher of tea. The flavor would be mild enough that it wouldn’t affect the drink itself; if anything, it might make the tea just a little stronger. And the constant stream from between her hind legs was…very satisfying to let out. Following orders, relieving herself, doing what was needed to convert and corrupt another pony: all of those things brought a reward of pulsing pleasure up and down her spine.

“So, you didn’t want to talk to Twilight. I guess I can get that, but why didn’t you go to Celestia or Luna or something like that?”

“They’re, um, very far away, and…and I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought…maybe…if there’s something wrong with Twilight, maybe I should talk to Cadance, instead. The big sister thing, you know?”

Nest parasite and host alike were shocked by that. The only thing that kept them from having an awkward silence was that pre-prepared script. Rainbow-Drone’s bladder had finally been drained, and she was able to reach down and nudge the pitcher along. Not much fuller than it had been, and she doubted that Fluttershy would notice a difference. Not when she was this out of it.

“Heh, going for the Princess of Looooove, huh? Wow. I didn’t think that you kept in touch.”

“Oh, um, I took care of some of the crystal animals while we were there last time. She wanted me to keep in touch, just in case something went wrong. I thought – well, I hoped – that she’d be interested in what was going on with Twilight.”

That was a potential problem, but also a potential solution. The Nest would need to take care of the more powerful Princesses eventually; having one of them arrive sooner than later would mean that they could handle the situation sooner than later, and more to the point, they would be able to do it and ensure that they got a ‘clean bill of health’ from someone in power. Nobody would suspect them, not after that.

A host mayor.

A host princess.

And nobody would have a clue that anything was wrong.

Of course, if Rainbow-Drone hadn’t been sent to Fluttershy to take her into the Nest, then the whole thing might have gone completely off the rails. The princess would have arrived and started an investigation without any of the Nest knowing she was even on her way, and then they might have been discovered. The power of the Princess of Love was not to be underestimated; she had enough power to push other great beings away, and she had a powerful husband, as well.

There would be much that they had to take care of. But first, Fluttershy.

Rainbow-Drone poured a couple of cups of tea and put them on the table. Fluttershy joined her with a few platters of baked goods, and they set to talking. The first sip that the yellow pony took made it clear that she’d get tipsy very quickly; Rainbow-Drone doubted that she’d need to keep Fluttershy talking for long before they were ready to head back to the farm.

Nonetheless, Rainbow-Drone kept the face of a friend on. It was easy enough; her body still remembered how to do that.

“So, feeling a bit better now?” Rainbow-Drone asked.

“Oh, a lot better, yes. Thank you,” Fluttershy said, a little red in her cheeks as she giggled. “The tea tastes better today, too. I guess you came at just the right time.”

“I guess I did, heh. But then again, I’m always right on time.”

“20% cooler, 20% faster.”

“You know it.”

Fluttershy giggled as she took another drink, and then another. She seemed to take more of an interest in her tea the more that she sampled of it, her head rolling slightly from side to side as she got deeper into her cup. She almost started to act a little drunk, giggling more and slumping forward. Her forelegs were less coordinated than usual, and she started to slur her words.

“Mmmph…this is good tea,” she said. “Mmmph…feels like…like that time I had that shider…down on the farm…”

“Heh, you sound ridiculous, Fluttershy.”

“Feel…good…”

“Yeah?”

“Feel…Um…feels…”

“Feels what?”

“I dunno…”

The host recognized the sheer need that was already building up. She didn’t know that Fluttershy would be this receptive to the chemicals that had built up in the infested host’s urine, but clearly, she was eager for more. She drained one cup and got another, almost like she was trying to hide her face in the cup rather than admit what was going on. It was kind of cute in an odd sort of way.

And at the same time, even the Nest parasite admitted that it was hungry to see the yellow pegasus brought into the fold. Each little shift in the mare’s needs brought a little more satisfaction to the parasite. It wasn’t the arousal that some free ponies would feel at the corruption of another, but it was satisfaction of a different sort, and it served a similar purpose for the host body. Rainbow-Drone was soon just as wet between her hind legs as their prey likely was.

“Is it, uh, is it a bit hot…hot in here, or…”

“It isn’t really that warm. It’s cool.”

“Oh. Um…maybe I should stop –”

“One more cup, huh? Just one more.”

“Okay, um…I guess…One more…”

It was a nearly catatonic Fluttershy that was carried back to Sweet Apple Acres. She could barely stay in the air when Rainbow-Drone had her follow alone, and the near-crashes confirmed that she was ‘drunk’ on the piss-tea. After rescuing her from four different near-impacts, Rainbow-Drone ended up carrying her rather than just flying along with her. It was slower, but it raised less questions that she might have to answer.

They set down just outside the forest, and the Apple family, blank-faced as Rainbow-Drone herself had become, came out to meet them. The same rhythmic, almost military march of the blank-faced mares and stallions was almost reassuring to the parasite inside of the host, and Fluttershy was too out of it to really understand what was going on.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“At the farm.”

“Oh. Which farm?”

“Applejack’s.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Because you need some help.”

“Help? What…what – nngh…”

As Rainbow-Drone threw Fluttershy over Big Mac-Drone’s back, it was impossible to miss the slicked-up slit beneath the other pegasus’s tail. She was drenched, deep in the grips of a heat and a brain-fogging warmth that Rainbow-Drone was all too familiar with. The heated memory of her own infestation was still strong, and rather enjoyable to have in her head. She was treated to it by her parasite before Big Mac-Drone wandered off to the barn. It was going to be a long day for Fluttershy, she was sure, but it would be useful.

And particularly as the sapling was able to sync with her and get more information about the impending visit.

Rainbow-Drone turned to Twilight-Drone as the librarian joined her. The hosts were able to pass information with a glance that most ponies would have needed full expressions for; the minute shifts of an otherwise blank face were easy to pick up on.

“There’s more?” Twilight-Drone asked.

“Visitor coming. Princess.”

“Which?”

“Cadance.”

“Hmm. This host is aware of that one. There are connections. Useful, perhaps.”

“We should return to the main Nest. Sync this information.”

“Fluttershy has the same?”

“Yes.”

“That will suffice for her. Fly.”

The two winged hosts took to the air. Rainbow-Drone already knew what waited in Ponyville: syncing with the main Nest, dealing with her first download, and then waiting for the rest of the drones to come ‘round and take the information back to the hospital Nest. There was a great deal to plan for, a great deal to take care of, and a lot of updating for all the drones involved. Spreading information from one Nest to another was the greatest downside to the drones’ need to communicate quietly; there were just enough of them now that they couldn’t be sure who was and wasn’t a host without extensive secret signs, and it meant that updates like this could be delayed for anywhere from forty-eight hours to a week, depending on the host.

But it was what they had. Until they had a stronger base, where an entire town was taken in and they didn’t have to keep up a pretense, it was what they had to deal with. And with the mayor soon to be one of them, and the possibility of bringing the Princess of Love into the fold…

Well, there was a real chance that Ponyville would belong to them, completely to them, sooner than later. And then they could really begin their expansion.

Chapter 17

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Awareness came with the slow withdrawal of the Nest tendril in her ass. Rarity-Drone blinked; her eyes had been open all night, and the host needed to have them moisturized again so she could see properly now that she was conscious. As she blinked, slowly, deliberately, the tendril flicked out of her raised hole, the ridged rim of her other hole flexing and closing slowly as her body was brought to awareness.

The familiar tingling of downloaded plans and ideas itched and tickled at the back of her mind where the parasite was integrating it into the host memory. They would come out when needed, probably during the day when she wasn’t dealing with customers. There were many outfits to be made, many fashions to be put on the market to maintain her disguise as a ‘free’ pony.

Her legs moved slowly, hind legs pushing her up almost like a mechanical lift, while her forelegs pulled under her to support her one by one. Her hips clicked slightly, not quite in age, but more like everything was getting in the right position as she got ready for her day.

The host turned her head left, then right. All down the line around the edge of the Nest, other hosts were being synced. Student-ponies that had come for ‘overnight studies,’ other mares and stallions that had come for the ‘book club,’ and employees of the library that had moved to live there, all lined up and impaled on a tendril of the Nest. Their eyes were open, just as hers had been, and they were static, statuesque, barely even breathing as they were merged with the Nest for the night.

The parasite in Rarity-Drone finished integrating the download and set them on a slow pace out of the library. Though it could override her sensations, the host’s legs were sore from the long night of sitting in place rather than lying down, and there was nothing that could be done about that outside of a slow-walk to relieve them. The unicorn plodded her way up from the basement and into the library proper.

There had been changes since the advent of the Nest in Ponyville. The library itself hadn’t changed much to most ponies, but there was something different about it. The great boughs that sheltered it from above were slowly getting choked out by the Nest down below, and the roots of the Nest went deep, deeper than anyone but the drones knew. Its branches had started weaving around the library tree, and a gentle dust had started falling from its leaves.

It wasn’t anything special, not yet, but the hosts were aware that the various ponies that came to make use of the library’s resources left slightly more foggy-brained than they came. They were nearly entranced, and not by the books any longer, but by the mere presence of the Nest itself and the dust that drifted down from it.

Dust.

Spores.

Even the parasite in Rarity-Drone didn’t entirely know what it was. The Nest had said that it was making things better, though, and that was all that mattered. They followed orders, and they did it beautifully.

As the host walked through the library, other changes were apparent. Some of the ponies that worked at the library were kept on the main floor during the evening hours, their rumps backed into shelf-corners where tendrils could plug in during the night. Rarity saw them, their eyes wide open but the mind behind seeing nothing.

They were the eyes of the Nest, and it used them to see the world around it, keeping an eye on everything. Rarity-Drone had served a shift as the eyes, and it had been quite draining; her mind had taken a day to come back to full function after that, requiring rest from the intense use of the Nest.

There would be a greater shift later on, the parasite in her believed. Some of the infested pony stock would be used as nothing but eyes for the Nests, installed like equine gargoyles around the Nest-sites. It wouldn’t matter if they were drained or damaged; there would be sufficient hosts at that point that they could afford to keep a few of them on eye-duty at all times.

But that was a long way off, and for now, they were taking it in shifts. Rarity-Drone looked at one such pony – an earth pony stallion with a blue coat and a pair of glasses for a cutie mark – and then moved on. There was no sympathy for the male; he was merely fulfilling a purpose, just as she did. The most that either of them could do was make sure that they fulfilled their duties to the Nest as beautifully and wonderfully as they could.

Beauty.

Wonder.

Such words were things that barely mattered to the mare any longer. They were remnants of what she used to be, echoes of what used to matter more than anything else in the world. Even her friendships had been meant to echo with the beauty that they brought to the world, and the elegance that she could give them by being part of the close circles of ponies that mattered to her.

But now, all that mattered was the Nest. All that mattered was what she could do for it.

Step.

The slow movements gradually picked up the pace as the soreness worked its way out of the host’s muscles. She plodded out the front door with the sun barely over the horizon, her parasite making her turn and fake a tired yawn of greeting for the pony standing at the doorway. Her fellow infested looked back and – after a split second – returned the nod in recognized behavior.

There were other ponies, of course, other infested that had been hidden in the tree. She knew, for example, that if she glanced over her shoulder and looked into the tree top of the library, that she’d see some of the troublemakers that had come to the library and found the Nest down at the bottom of the tree. The little sneaks had been caught and infested, then put into the top-most branches. They served as the most common watchers for the Nest, their holes open and their eyes looking down on the town at large. Nothing escaped their vision, and so the main Nest was constantly informed of the movements of many ponies through town.

She knew that the Nest watched her as she left, and Rarity-Drone felt safe. If anything did happen to her, if anyone did find out that she was not a ‘free’ pony, then the Nest would know and take care of her. That was how it worked.

Time passed. She was out of it, then awake again when she opened the door to her shop. The host had been put to sleep while she was not needed and awakened now that she was once more. Work would require her attention.

As she walked to the back room of her salon, Rarity-Drone felt the parasite pulling out design after design. She could see her own ideas present inside of each possibility for a new garment, but they had been twisted.

Gone were the accessories and twists that she would normally have spent hours slaving over, making each one completely perfect, unique and distinguished. All of that had been planned and adjusted by the Nest, taking all the creative work out of the designing process and making it happen faster, faster, faster, giving her more time to get the work done rather than spending it all in the planning process.

It was…

A piece of the mare believed that she should have hurt from knowing that none of the designs were truly her, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was doing what the Nest demanded of her: getting the designs done so she could maintain her cover.

She got to work, her mind working through the first design for a smart suit for one of the local stallions. The various political functions that were happening more and more often meant that more of the Ponyville population wanted to look their best. They were coming to her, begging her to make something sharp, something smart that would let them stand out in the crowd in this once-in-a-lifetime election for their small, sleepy town. They wanted to make it something to remember.

Being in a unique position like that, Rarity-Drone’s designs were modified further. She was still putting out the unique, elegant garments that her shop was known for, but there were tweaks to them now, little adjustments that would go almost unnoticed until the time was right.

The Nest would spread.

She would make it happen.

Snip.

Cut.

Sew.

The mechanical motions were as swift as her face was dull. There was no smile, no hum of happy activity as she worked on the downloaded designs in her skull. None of it brought her joy; only the service to the Nest brought that these days. The beautiful designs that should have come from her vibrant imagination were nowhere to be seen. What came out of her magic scissors and thread looked like her work, her brainchildren, but had nothing to do with her. It was all the product of the Nest and its tendrils and parasites in her mind.

None of her.

All of it.

And that was fine.

Snip.

Rip.

Tear.

Sew.

The garments came together bit by bit, and once the pattern was going, she felt herself shutting down again. There was no need for the host while the parasite could follow the plan properly.

Rarity-Drone woke from her ‘sleep’ when the bell dinged. The parasite in her dragged her forward, reading her personality, the plans, the scripts. What was on the schedule for the day, what were the planned visitors that could come around?

Several infested ponies were on the list, well-known among the drones to be safe, but there were others that were either questionable or undoubtedly free ponies that would be coming by. There were appointments, but Rarity-Drone had always had a more open schedule than many designers. It was a downside, but there were things that the Nest had to maintain in order to keep her cover up. That was, unfortunately, one of them.

The scissors clicked against the design table as the mare put on a smile, her face tugging back, then adjusting forward. Not too big; a proper lady only had a small smile, not a wide grin. One couldn’t go too far.

She turned around, the blue-white magic on her horn pushing the door open as she walked to the front room. A client –

Drone. Host.

The parasite confirmed it, and Rarity-Drone’s smile…remained. They were allowed to drop the disguise in private, but both drones knew that this was not private. A store could be entered at any time, and they had to keep up the pretense in case someone did walk in.

“Darling, you’re looking well. Here for your outfit?”

“Of course, of course,” the red-furred stallion said, chuckling as he turned to the side. “Why, can you imagine me turning up in working leather? It’d be ridiculous.”

“Oh, indeed, dear, you would be admired for nothing but your muscles. And they are fine, of course, of course, but we can do better than that.”

It was…almost strange to hear her own way of speaking from outside, Rarity-Drone thought. There was nothing to it that was really her, not anymore, but there was something…

It was strangely intimate while at the same time sounding like a stranger. There was no soul in it, though she doubted that anyone that didn’t know her incredibly well would have noticed. The imitation was otherwise perfect.

The white-furred, purple-maned mare fussed over the farm stallion, helping him out of his leather vest and into the bespoke suit that she’d made for him. Just like the others that were made for the drones, there was a little slit in the bottom. Most stallions would keep their bits covered during the social functions, or at least, vaguely hidden behind a layer of cloth, but drones needed to have access to that for the sake of expanding the Nest. At the same time, they couldn’t be too obvious about it.

The solution that the Nest had come up with via Rarity-Drone’s designs was a cut of fabric run right over the sheath, pulling it up against the belly but not quite hiding it. From the side, it would look as if it was covered, but the moment that the parasite inside a host needed to make a cock drop, it would come free with ease. The fabric line would even serve as a partial cock-ring to make the shaft that much more appealing to the drugged minds of the unwary partners.

She ensured that the slit of fabric worked the way that it was intended for the stallion host, nodded to herself, and smiled as she walked back around the counter. It was all drawn from her memories of past encounters with her customers, and none of it was genuinely felt. It, like everything else in her life that wasn’t involved with connecting to the Nest, was an act.

“Now, payment.”

“Ah, yes. I don’t suppose you’d take some farm goods?”

“Darling, I’m afraid I must insist on bits.”

“Heh, pity. Can’t blame a stallion for trying.”

“I know, dear, just like you can’t blame a diva like me for insisting on the real thing.”

She tittered – once more, a sound that felt almost wrong coming from her lips, as if she was judging her past self for what she had been – as the stallion passed over his payment. The suit looked good on him, objectively, as he walked out the door.

The rest of the day sped by. Rarity-Drone was awoken several times more for other infested ponies, giving them their suits and dresses and whatever else they bought. Now and then, she had to deliver a ‘special’ order that involved ringing a stallion’s shaft to make sure that it would be properly displayed (mostly for parasites that had infested an older male whose biology was not quite up for the task of seeding others) and once, she had been pushed to add a spreader to one of the mares that had come in.

Theoretically, that had been for the sake of smuggling goods from one Nest to another, to allow for an easy deposit inside, but she doubted that it would be a technique that they would use for long. Even a tail pulled down over that spread sex would likely lead to someone taking a closer look, eventually.

There were many different things that the Nest was trying to make sure that its various pieces were able to stay in touch. The hosts were able to be updated, synced to the different Nests, and there was the slow back and forth that was Westin-Drone and his entourage bringing information from one Nest to another, but that was barely suitable for just two Nests. Sooner or later, as they gained more Nests in different towns, they’d need something else. What that would be, nobody knew, but they trusted the Nest to figure it out when the time came.

Rarity-Drone was ‘awoken’ again to take a break from snipping and sewing to refill the pitcher in the customer lobby. She stepped away again, taking the glass pitcher from the windowsill. The contents were dumped out, and the usual slices of cucumber and water were added, but only to the halfway mark.

Setting the pitcher down, the host was marched over it and encouraged to squat down ever so slightly. Her hind legs spread to make room for the glass pitcher between her thighs, and then –

Pressure.

The clenching of her inner muscles around her bladder sent little shocks through her. Not quite pleasure or pain, precisely, but more of an awareness of fullness, an urgency, a need that had been suppressed all day long for it to build up to this moment. There was an odd sense of sensual denial that was tied into the unknowing obedience that left her oddly satisfied, and yet, at the same time, craving more.

The parasite squeezed her muscles around her bladder, forcing it to contract, and she felt the familiar heat of her urine rushing down her insides. A few short seconds later, it was rushing out of her into the pitcher.

The hissing sounds of it hitting the sides, then falling into the cucumber water below, would have once embarrassed Rarity-Drone. Now, the only thing she felt was the near-sexual satisfaction that came with obeying the Nest and her own parasite, giving into their control and power and plans for the world.

Her bladder emptied itself completely, a few last droplets – clear and transparent rather than piss-yellow – hanging from her sex before they, too, joined the cucumber water below. The brew that they made would be an intense drink for any pony that happened to partake of it, but there was more to come.

Or rather, to cum.

A spasm of physical pleasure rocked the host’s body, running from between her hind legs right up her spine and into her skull. It felt like it hammered a spike of bliss right through her brain, shattering what little sense of decorum she still had left. There was nothing of it there, nothing –

Cum.

The forced clenching of her inner walls, the stabbing commands right into her brain, the constant push from the parasite to keep orgasming and squirting into the pitcher overwhelmed her. Her legs locked on the parasite’s orders, and Rarity-Drone was nothing more than a pulsing fountain down there. The only motions that her body made were the soft clenches, squirts, and repeated clenches through her sex.

The splatter-sounds of her juices hitting the water’s surface were all that could be heard. It was…lewd, and sexual, and entirely beyond anything that a proper pony should do. It was something that would have humiliated her to do for anyone else, or at any risk of being seen.

And yet, here she was, fulfilling this order with the front door closed and locked. No way to be seen. No way to risk showing what she had become. Just following the orders of the Nest.

Pulse.

And then it was done. She was drained and the pitcher was full. A little magic lifted it up and put it on the front desk, waiting for some unknowing pony to come in and take a drink. Once that happened, she would drag them into the back for a proper fitting, getting their information, and see whether they would be worth bringing into the Nest immediately, or if they were safe to leave alone while they went for more valuable hosts.

All hosts were valuable, of course, but the Nest was starting to prioritize. There were those that might be risky to take, those that might be useful to take, and others that were merely hosts for the sake of hosts. The Nest had to choose carefully, or they could make dangerous mistakes.

She had scarcely put the pitcher down before there was a knock at the door. Rarity-Drone would have blinked if she had been around others, but the host did not react without need. Instead, it moved silently to the door, paused to put the proper expression on with the aid of a mirror, and opened it.

A ‘free’ pony stood on the other side. Stallion, of course, with a horn that glowed between jester bells that hung off either side of his head. He had a gray white coat, and looked rather embarrassed of himself.

“Hey, uh, I’m Marble Jester.”

“Mmm, yes, I gathered your name with your…choice of accessories.”

“Well, yeah, I guess…it is a little obvious, isn’t it?”

He floated the hat off his head and dropped it onto his back. Rather than the little shirt or other small accessories that most ponies tended to wear, he had a full-on green and red jacket. Blue stripes separated the various patches on his garment, making him look like some Christmas goblin that had leaped out of the pages of old books. He looked like he knew it, too, considering the way that he couldn’t meet Rarity-Drone’s eyes.

“I know how stupid I look. It’s a family thing, but I’m trying to be better about that. I was hoping – well, really, really, really hoping – that you could give me something to leave the family tradition behind.”

“Oh, darling, you want to actually improve yourself? How lovely.”

The smile that she’d fixed to her face was allowed to grow as the host led the stallion in. She subtly flicked her horn at the lock and made sure that it was sealed – of course, she had to use a pair of scissors for that, as her magic was more limited than Twilight’s, but it worked – and brought Marble to the front desk.

“Here. Have a drink, and I’ll start putting the paperwork together for you.”

“Oh, right. The paperwork, um, is this…is this going to be…”

“Expensive? Darling, for someone trying so hard to get out from under such bad fashion choices, this is on the house.”

“Oh thank you. Thank you.”

Rarity-Drone flashed a gracious smile as she disappeared into the back, only for the smile to drop as soon as the door shut behind her. There was no reason to keep it going when she wasn’t being observed, and it was a waste of energy.

As the host got the different pieces of paper out, each one meant to track a different bit of information about the customer, Rarity-Drone imagined the records that they would have on the various ponies in town by the end of this. She tracked her customers, the Cakes tracked theirs, and everyone else was slowly building a paper record of what they brought in, who bought from them, and more. There was a network of information gatherers under the Nest, and that information would mean that anyone could be targeted at any time.

And more, the combination of the Nest’s intelligence and the various memories that the information-gatherers would have meant that it could sort through all that information all at once. The paperwork was still useful, giving them secondary records if any of the hosts were to go missing or be found out, but the combination was perfect for precise targeted infestation.

Rarity-Drone was also just killing time, giving the drugged pitcher time to do its magic on Marble Jester. Considering his younger age, she doubted that it would take him long to be completely inebriated from it, and once he was wobbly, horny and high, she would be able to get easy answers out of him.

Did she need it? Probably not; he looked shy and needy enough for attention that she probably could have flirted the information out of him with ease, but that wasn’t what she was here for. She was here to follow orders, get things done properly, and ensure that he didn’t remember all the other measurements that they were going to do.

Discretion, one of her few surviving traits, was something that the Nest craved. She would be discrete about everything.

“Mmmph…”

“Darling?”

“Wow, this is…good stuff…”

A shadow of a memory of a smile was all that the host felt at the plan coming together. The host needed no more than that.

“Well, have as much as you want, dear,” she said, her cheery voice a marked contrast to the completely blank face she knew she had at that moment. “It’s all for the customers, and you’re a valued one right now.”

“Shanks…”

He was already getting tipsy, then. Probably had never had anything that potent in his life, and was getting the good stuff right off the bat. Rarity-Drone would have tutted in amused exasperation at someone overreaching their limits if she’d still been a free pony. There was a faint hint of what that would have sounded like in the back of her head, but then it was gone. Nothing like that was needed anymore.

After all, that wasn’t her. That was Rarity. She was Rarity-Drone, and that was a far better expression of her. None of that pesky little bit of free thought, none of the imagination that she used for far too many hours of the day. Rarity had been too inefficient. She was better at everything.

Eventually, the rest of the world would share her understanding and joy.

“Come back whenever you’re ready; I’ve got everything I need…”

Rainbow-Drone had to pull herself back when she flew with the rest of the Wonderbolts. The parasite inside of her had perfected the way she flew, and if she didn’t deliberately sabotage herself, she would have outraced all the other members of the team. Considering that she had been middle of the pack, at best, that would have required explanation, and that wasn’t something that she was ready to start giving yet.

The blue pegasus rounded the bend with the rest of them, racing from cloud to cloud above Ponyville. It was a combination free show as well as basic training for when they packed up and continued their tour over other parts of Equestria, and the other Wonderbolts were laughing and cheering as they pushed themselves harder and harder.

Rainbow-Drone joined in, the sound hollow in her ears as she just replayed her previous laughs and jokes as she flew in and out of formation. There was none of the past joy of flying; there was very little of anything besides keeping up the disguise of being ‘free’ and normal.

Compared to the other hosts, she had very little to do. The Nest recognized the potential of her being part of the Wonderbolt team and the access that would give her to a number of far-off areas, but until they were in a more secure situation, there was no infesting of the celebrity team. They were holding off until after the election, or failing that, until there was no chance of anyone finding out that it was happening.

They rounded another cloud, and Rainbow-Drone took the parasite’s command to crash into the next one after that. It wasn’t a hard impact, but it sold the fact that she was still the new mare, still the one that they didn’t have to worry about. The rest of the team braked hard, coming around with a laugh.

She poked her head out with laughing fury, faking her own indignation from being seen that way. They bought it.

Dapper-Drone stood in the middle of a room in an inn. The new suit that he’d gotten from Rarity-Drone fitted him rather nicely, and he looked the part of a good candidate for mayor of the town. He leaned his head back, the parasite inside making him shift his hat slightly to make it look slightly different. Not completely precise, just a bit off, something that would appeal more to the common pony.

It was odd to consider himself in such a position, as much as the host could consider anything. The way that the world had changed around him was something that only he felt capable of noticing; the rest of the hosts were either more buried than he was, or were more content to take orders all the time. Dapper-Drone enjoyed the feeling of being in the thrall of the Nest, but more than that, he enjoyed helping others fall into that same thrall and finding ways to encourage further contracts, further deals, further enforcement of the way that society was supposed to work.

He imagined that the Nest took a great deal of ideas from him at times. He was flattered and honored to be a host that could contribute as much as he did.

The latest bit of synced-up news from the two major Nests (the one at Sweet Apple Acres was still growing, still a little too immature to easily sync with regularly) told him that he was doing well in the election so far. Mayor Mare would have to come out and debate him properly rather than hiding behind the smokescreen of being the one that had always been in charge. He had enough ponies interested in a change that she needed to be more convincing.

Whether that would give the Nest the opening that it needed to bring her in as an infested pony or not, he didn’t know, but he was doing his part. The Nest would be closer than it had been before, at the very least, and the others would have to take them the rest of the way.

Dapper-Drone turned away from the mirror, the stallion walking to the window. The parasite looked through his eyes at the streets below. The ponies out there were slowly but surely falling under the sway of the Nest. It was not enough, and never would be, but the fact that others were slowly being brought under the sway of a greater order…

It soothed something in him. The memory of Dapper-Bit Twist still remained, though it was no longer so emotional as it had been. The memory, however, still retained the same hunger for a society that did what it was supposed to do, that no longer operated so strongly on feeling, but instead on a simple set of rules and roles.

Traders traded and made money.

Farmers farmed and made food.

Teachers taught and made brilliant students.

Everyone, everywhere, had a proper place, and the Nest was able to find that place for them and made sure that they stayed there. Doctors, nurses, bakers, merchants: anyone and everyone had a place, and that was where they belonged.

Things were going right.

And in the background of all the works of their pawns, the Nests slowly spread. The roots of the great trees pushed through the underground of Ponyville, spreading from the hospital and from the library, edging, sneaking, digging through the soil to whatever drew them on. Sometimes food, sometimes something else, their instincts to spread and seed and take more hosts always pushing the trees to grow.

Here.

There.

Under.

Over.

The roots were vast and wide, forming a network under more than just the building where they were based. The many days that had passed since the first Nest tree was planted gave them both time to grow, spread, and even consume in the case of the original Nest tree. There were several homes that were starting to wither as it integrated with them, though none showed it so much as to be dangerous. The hospital Nest spread in different ways, pushing through and then ‘healing’ the homes that it touched, adjusting them, merging with them, making them better, though just like the first, never in a way that entirely showed to those that lived in them. It was nothing more than a feeling.

But the roots were always hungry for more, and the Nest themselves were not always guiding them with the greatest of attention.

So, bit by bit, the roots started to do more than just spread and touch the houses that were around them. The roots started to creep further upward, digging through the houses themselves to the little gaps and openings that most would never have touched, but still allowed an outsider to enter a house. Not doors, nor windows, nor even the sides of the house…

But through the toilets, and eventually, into someone that was using one.

Chapter 18

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“Goodbye, hon!” Lyra called out the door. “See you tonight when you get back!”

“See you then, dear.”

“Take care, love you!”

“Love you too!”

The earth pony waved back at her before getting on the carriage to the town center. Lyra kept waving back, the unicorn smiling brightly until the carriage was out of sight. Even then, she felt the remnant of it on her face, a little bit of happiness that always lingered from Sweetie Drops’s presence. They were so close, these days, and it always felt like a bit of a shame to see her head to town to do her job, but –

Well, such was life. She would have the other mare back again for their evening, at least, and until then, she could do some work around the house to make sure that it was properly presented for any guests. Lyra didn’t have many these days – they’d all started dropping off over the course of the last few weeks, as if all their free time had completely disappeared – but she still hoped to have one or two pop by. Entertaining was, after all, part of her life.

The mint-green mare hummed to herself as she shut the door with a hind hoof, nudging it shut with a gentle push. As it clicked shut, she looked over the living room and sighed.

“I’ll be at this all day,” she muttered, glancing at the blankets, the recipe books, and everything else that had been left scattered all over the couch and floor. “Sweetie, we really need to talk about the clutter…”

But that would be for later. When Sweetie got home…and after Lyra had the chance to freshen up a little bit.

She trotted toward the back of the house, nudging the bathroom door open. The shower was already fairly clean, though wet from her girlfriend’s earlier shower, and the toilet lid was already up. Lyra turned around, backing her rump toward the little oblong throne. She shuffled her hind legs around the sides of it and lowered her hips ever so slightly, not quite touching it but moving them into the right position for elimination.

The soft hiss of her bladder relieving itself filled the air, and she winced in self-conscious embarrassment at how loud it was. Some ponies were perfectly fine with doing this outside, even, but the sheer fact that someone would know that was what she was doing embarrassed her. The idea of anyone doing something like that…

Not a lady-like thing to do. Not a very good or neat thing, either.

She shifted from hoof to hoof as the last few droplets escaped her. Lyra started to slide away –

“AH!”

And then, something touched her.

It was such a shock that she felt like her heart would leap from her chest, and only long-learned instincts kept her from freezing up completely. Even as she ran forward, all but leaping from around the toilet, she felt that thing curling against her pussy, almost as if it was about to ram in, and something else had been so close to her other hole that it sent shivers right down her spine. She hit the far side of the bathroom, whipping her head around, and stared.

Sticking out from her toilet were two tendrils, almost wooden but too smooth to be that. They swayed back and forth, and one of them – the one that had to have been the one about to invade her anus – was covered in little fronds, with an open end. Something poked out before slithering back inside, almost like it was hiding from her.

“By Celestia…”

They twitched toward her, and that was all that Lyra needed to see to know she had to get out. She kicked down the bathroom door and ran down the hallway. The only reason she wasn’t screaming was because she lacked the air to do so.

Out of the house and down the road, not even remembering to shut the door behind her: that was how freaked out she was. That thing, that creature in the toilet, had just tried to violate her, and she didn’t even know why. Whatever it was, she had to find Sweetie and tell her that something had gone wrong. Something was very, very, very wrong.

It took her over a half-hour to reach the town center, and by the time she got there, she was barely able to keep on her hooves. The fear-driven gallop had drained her completely, and she barely managed to lean on one of the old railings around the town center. Her girlfriend was just getting off the carriage, straightening a wide-brimmed hat, and Lyra groaned as she dragged herself over.

“Sweetie…Sweetie!”

“Hmm?”

The yellow-tan mare turned, then gasped.

“Lyra, what in the world –”

“Things…things in the…in the bathroom…”

“Honey, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Things…tried to…tried to…”

The unicorn couldn’t get the words past her lips. The insanity of it was hitting her now, making it impossible to believe that she’d seen what she’d seen. The horrific idea of almost getting raped on her own toilet had finally pushed through the fear-shock, too, and she cried as she almost collapsed right then and there.

There were eyes on her from all around the square, staring, judging. She didn’t care. She had to get the words out.

“There was…something…in the toilet…”

“Hon…are you okay?”

“I’m not crazy!”

“I – I didn’t say you were,” Sweetie said, taking a few steps back. “But you can barely talk. Come on. Breathe. Take a second. Then try and tell me again. This…this is sounding a little hard to swallow, heh.”

“It’s not…it’s…it’s…”

Breathe. Breathing was a good idea. That insane gallop had taken it out of her, and then some. She forced herself to stop talking and start breathing, but every time that she closed her eyes – and she had to, to keep breathing and not try and shout at her girlfriend – she kept thinking about the way that those things had almost penetrated her. Coming from underground, coming for her, trying to…trying to take her and…and…

The thing inside…that thing that could have…slithered into my…my rump…

The very idea was enough to send chills down her spine and leave her eyes watering. What if it had managed to get inside of her? What would it have done? What would have happened to her?

There were so many questions running through her head that she could barely get a breath in, and she felt like she would collapse at any second. Her legs shook and her head spun, and everything just felt like it was too much.

“Lyra? Lyra, look at me.”

She opened her eyes. Her girlfriend gently squeezed her face between her forehooves, holding her in place. Their eyes were locked together, and it was…well, at least a little bit comforting. At least she wasn’t completely lost in her head like this, and it wasn’t quite as bad as being alone with her thoughts. That said…she could already tell that Sweetie didn’t believe her.

“You need to relax. What I want you to do is go down the road, talk to the Cakes, and get yourself a treat. I’ll be back home later tonight, and we can talk about the bathroom and whatever happened there, okay? As long as you don’t go to that room, you should be fine, okay?”

“…Okay,” Lyra said, hanging her head.

“Good. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but this is an important meeting. Canterlot and Bon Bon stuff, you know?”

“I know. I know. You…you take care of that. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

Getting a soft kiss, Lyra watched as her girlfriend trotted away. The wide-brimmed hat and the slow sway of Sweetie’s hips made her look almost a little seductive. Probably something that she had learned from her time working for Canterlot, Lyra supposed, but it was something that she enjoyed nonetheless. Or, at least, would have enjoyed a great deal more if it wasn’t for the shakes still running down all four legs and down her spine.

It was real. She knew that the nightmarish thing oozing from her toilet had been real, but her girlfriend hadn’t been ready to believe her. Yes, she knew it sounded impossible, but at the same time, she could…well, she couldn’t prove that it had been real, but she could have explained it. Or…talked about it, or something. Something that would make someone believe her.

Maybe I really did just…

Lyra rubbed her forehead with a forehoof, shaking her head. No, no, it was real, and she wasn’t going home. Not yet, maybe not until Sweetie was due back. But she could get herself a treat at the Cakes, and that’d go a long way towards settling her racing heart, she imagined.

She walked down the road. It didn’t take long to find the bakery at the Cakes and Pinkie Pie ran, and she stepped inside with a weak smile on her face. The soft sound of the dinging bell felt a bit louder than usual, almost jarring, and she blinked as she looked back at the door.

“…That’s strange…”

“Ms. Heartstring!”

The cheerful voice of Mrs. Cake greeted her, and she turned around with that same semi-forced smile, looking at the baker mare. The older pony leaned over the counter, chuckling.

“You look like you’re in a bit of a state. What can I get you?”

“I…don’t know. Something sweet, something that’s really, really sweet. Like, hurt your teeth kind of sweet.”

“Bad morning, dear?”

“Something tried to…” Lyra tried to stop herself, but since she couldn’t tell Sweetie, she had to tell someone. “Something tried to…to violate me this morning. On the toilet.”

“O-oh?”

It had to be her imagination, but for a split-second, she was almost sure that there was something else in the compassionate older mare’s face. Something that looked more than just shocked, but…worried? No, not quite that; it was almost like seeing something angry and irritated, but not that she had almost been hurt. Almost like…like it was upset that whatever had happened hadn’t happened.

And then it was gone, leaving only that sympathetic, if disbelieving, expression behind. Mrs. Cake shook her head.

“I think that you might need this one on the house, sugar.”

“It happened. I swear, it happened. There’s a thing…there’s things in there, and…and if you won’t believe me, I’ll find someone that will.”

“I’m sure you will, honey. But for now, take this.”

Mrs. Cake passed her a bun covered in frosting that was still oozing down the sides, warm and wet and looking as sticky as it felt. Lyra took the wrapped-up treat with a forehoof, looking down at it and trying to find a way to explain herself. Mrs. Cake had already left the register, moving to the back rooms, and Lyra slumped inward.

What the hay am I going to have to tell them to make them believe me? Just…do I have to bring them back to show them? Do I have to…what do I have to do to make someone believe me that this exists?

And what were they in the first place? Why were tree roots – or at least, things that looked like tree roots – pushing up through the toilet? Why were they trying to grow into her? What was that thing that was inside one of the roots that pulled back in as soon as she tried to get a good look?

What was going on?

A gentle pressure reminded her that she hadn’t actually finished using the toilet back at her own place. She shook her head, putting the roll down on the counter before making her way toward the back. The Cakes had a toilet in the back of the bakery available to customers, and she could use it before she left.

She had just rounded the corner to where the bathroom door was usually closed, only to stop in her tracks.

Pinkie Pie was right beside the toilet, staring straight off to the side. One inch further forward, and Lyra would have been in her line of sight, but where she stood, she just barely managed to avoid being seen. But it was…it was the things coming out of the toilet that took her breath away.

The pink mare stood there, her face completely blank. There was no sign of the usual smiles and giggly grins that dominated Pinkie’s face. Her mouth was slightly open, slack but controlled slack, and her tail was raised. Two tendrils, just like the ones that had come out of her toilet, were lodged inside of the mare, spreading her rim and her sex alike, and both of them occasionally rippling. Not thrusting, not grinding, just…twitching, a tiny ripple that started in the water and went right up into the mare herself.

And then…then Pinkie started…urinating.

The sight of the clear fluid running out into a tray, falling down that into a pitcher, was enough to make Lyra’s guts clench. It was wrong, and unnatural, and…and there was no sign of any life in Pinkie’s eyes. No movement, no shifting her legs from one position to another. She was stock-still, statuesque, almost…almost dead-looking. The only thing that made her even look alive was the occasional breath that almost seemed forced as she kept standing and peeing.

She doesn’t see me…

No, it was more than that. She didn’t think that Pinkie Pie was even aware of what was going on around her. She didn’t look like the same mare that she’d known for so long. There was no sign of the party girl that everyone in Ponyville knew threw the best celebrations. There nothing, nothing at all. There was…there was just a shell.

Before she could lunge forward and try and knock Pinkie Pie off the toilet and away from the tendrils, Mrs. Cake stepped into view. Again, just barely leaving Lyra out of sight, but the mare turned to her adopted daughter and –

“Almost done. This host will replace you.”

“This host will release itself shortly.”

“Syncing is required,” Mrs. Cake said.

“…This host is removing itself now.”

The terrifying lack of emotion was almost enough to make Lyra faint right then and there, but the way that Pinkie Pie just slid off the tendrils without a word or even a huff told her that something else was wrong. Something…

The thing inside the tendril?

She remembered it, almost worm-like, and wondered if it had already gone into Pinkie Pie. What if the mare had been completely converted into something else already, something that didn’t care about all the fun things that she used to do? What if they –

What if that roll had been poisoned?

Lyra screamed inside, but managed to keep the sound from escaping her throat. She slowly backed up, taking her time to move as quietly as possible, before she reached the front room again. She turned on her hooves and charged out the front door, barely keeping her scream inside.

Something’s wrong. Something is so, so, so wrong.

She had to find someone that would listen to her. She had to find someone that would come and look at this before she lost her mind, or before they found her and forced her back against the tendrils.

Lyra arrived at the hospital, hoping against hope that some doctor would be able to tell her what was going on. She managed to find a nurse – Nurse Redheart – but before she could explain what she’d seen, the mare silenced her with a hoof to the lips.

“You won’t be able to talk coherently until you relax a little bit. Come with me.”

The nurse led her to a garden in the back of the hospital, and for all that the panic still had her heart racing, Lyra would admit that there was something calming about being among the plants. The soft, sweet smell that filled the air all around her was enough to bring her heart rate down by a few dozen beats per minute, and she was able to catch her breath, finally.

The nurse was silent, for some reason. She expected some sort of comfort, something that would make her feel better, but Nurse Redheart never said a word. She just walked along, plodding beside the unicorn while they circled the garden, taking one path after another. Occasionally, she would look into the plants, then look back at Lyra, but she never said anything.

It was nearly a half-hour later when Redheart smiled.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much…much,” Lyra admitted, and it was true; she felt like she could breathe again and that she was finally being taken seriously. “Can I…can we talk now?”

“I would love to, but I’ve been getting paged for a while,” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I need to take care of some of the patients elsewhere in the hospital, but if you can wait here for a few minutes, I’ll send Doctor Stable down to you.”

“Doctor…yes. Yes, I can…I can wait for the doctor.”

“Good girl. Everything will work itself out soon enough.”

The head-pat she got from the nurse was a little condescending, but she was relieved enough to have someone that wanted to take her seriously that she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get this over and done with. Someone, somewhere, had to know what they were dealing with. The doctors were people that dealt with worms and parasites in ponies all the time; surely they could tell her what was happening to the Cakes?

Nurse Redheart walked away, leaving her alone. Lyra kept shifting from hoof to hoof, suddenly aware of the sheer vibrancy of the greenery around her and the thick layers of it that hid everything from the hospital itself. Nobody would be able to see this deep into the garden; anything that happened here –

A rustle in the leaves was her only warning. She was calm, but not quite that calm; her heart went from just a little above normal to racing again in less than a second, and she kicked backward with a hard buck. She hit something that had been creeping from the green and leaped forward. She landed with a loud click on one of the stepping stones through the garden and looked over her shoulder.

The same tendrils that she’d seen in her toilet and the Cake’s were above-ground here, and the open one was more visible now. A real worm was in there, alright, and it was just barely starting to pull back. She saw the root-fibers that stuck out of it, and could only imagine what that would do if it was inside of her rather than…

The tendrils weren’t stopping this time. They pushed out, chasing her, and she ran. She ran right out of the garden and out through the hospital, screaming her head off.

Lyra approached Sweet Apple Acres, hoping and praying that there was someone there that would be able to help her. With the doctors at the hospital compromised, she had to rely on someone else. Maybe they…maybe the Apple family had an idea. They were skilled farmers, worked with plants all the time. Maybe they knew what was going on out there?

She found Applejack first, and she tried to talk to the mare. No sooner had she addressed the famous farm girl, however, than Applejack looked at her like she was crazy again.

“I’m not…I’m telling the truth!” she said.

“Sugarcube, I know when I’m talking to someone that’s telling the truth and someone that’s seeing things. You’ve been seeing things.”

“But…but…”

“Besides, only thing like that is something that we got in the barn, and it’s harmless.”

“Those things are not harmless.”

“Ya can take a look at it, if ya want.”

Applejack gestured at the barn. The door was open, just slightly, but even as Lyra glanced at it, she could see the hints of vines and tendrils inside. She shook her head, taking a slow step back –

“Sugarcube. Ya better take a look,” Applejack said. “Come on. If it’s that bad, ya can show me.”

“I – I –”

The soft wee-whoo of a distant siren cut her off. Lyra whipped her head around, staring down the road as a carriage pulled by medical ponies approached the farm. She turned back to Applejack, her eyes going wide as the compassionate expression of the farm mare dropped to that same, empty face that Pinkie Pie had shown on the toilet.

“You’re one of them.”

“This host believes you should go into the barn.”

“AAAGH!”

Lyra spun around, running away. She barely avoided the lasso that Applejack threw at her head by running through the trees, and she could hear the hoofbeats of the Apple family clan running at her back. The only thing that saved her was blind terror, leading her through the trees and towards a different road, a side road that she and Sweetie had taken time and time again. They were the only ones that knew it, and it took her to safety, temporary as it was.

The day passed slowly, and everyponythat Lyra approached showed her how bad the situation really was. Her hopes for help from Rarity were dashed as the well-connected fashionista tried to drug her with a poisoned pitcher, and her desperate attempts to get in touch with someone outside of Ponyville were quashed with the postal ponies not letting her mail a letter without going to a back room with them.

Everybody, everybody in power seemed to be part of some grand conspiracy, and she was the only one that wasn’t taken. She was twitching up a storm as she approached her last hope: the library.

If anyone could still be free from the conspiracy, it had to be Twilight Sparkle. She was the most powerful alicorn anyone had seen since Celestia and Luna, and she was smart. Lyra hadn’t always gotten along with the purple-furred alicorn, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If nothing else, Twilight was always willing to listen to something that was new, and hopefully she would have a book that would be able to tell her what the hay was going on in Ponyville.

She walked through the front door, her eyes twitching in fear and exhaustion as she made her way down the aisles. A few ponies watched her, and she wondered in the back of her head if they were in on it, if they were members of this horrible cult-like conspiracy to take over the town. She didn’t know, and worse, if they were, she couldn’t do anything about it. All she could do was hope.

She eventually found Twilight Sparkle at the center of the library, sitting behind a desk and reading a book, as usual. The glasses-wearing alicorn looked up, and Lyra saw herself in the lenses. The day had left her a mess, with sticks poking out of her mane and her hide completely bedraggled. She looked nuts.

“Oh my!”

And yet, Twilight immediately put the book down and fluttered over to her. Someone fussing over her, gently pulling the sticks out of the way and making things better for her, was nearly enough to move the mare to tears. The unicorn slumped against Twilight’s side, shaking her head.

“I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

“Shh, shh. I know. I know. Come here. Sit down.”

There were no drinks, no snacks. No traps that might have poison in them. There was no sudden removal to a back room. There was no attempt to isolate her or call the medical ponies again to drag her to the hospital where she could be trapped and…and infested with that thing the way that everyone else already had been. Nothing but a gentle nudge to a couch, where Lyra laid herself out and fought the urge to just cry her eyes out.

“Now, what’s going on?” Twilight asked.

“I’m not crazy.”

“I know. But just…tell me.”

And so, the story came out. Every twist in the tale, every little moment of betrayal and shock, starting from the near-rape at the start of her day to the various infected ponies that she had met when she tried to expose the whole thing. Lyra had to stop and start again and again, each time apologizing, only for Twilight to pat her and tell her that it was fine.

She finally finished with the revelation about Rarity, looking up and sniffling. Twilight’s face was still kind and gentle; nothing had shifted.

“We…we have to go to the Mayor. No. We have to get to Celestia. Tell her everything. She has to…has to burn them out. It’s wrong, it’s wrong. We’re all going to – they’re going to take us all if we don’t do something.”

“You’re not wrong,” Twilight said.

“I know I’m not! Come on! We have to do something. You can fly – you can take us to the train station and – and we can get to Canterlot before it’s too late.”

“Lyra –”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!”

“…Lyra. It’s already too late.”

“…No…no, not you – not you, too!”

The mint-green unicorn tried to push herself up from the couch, but she was too tired. She was too slow this time, and the roots came up from the floor around her hind legs, pinning them in place as others started to wrap around her middle. The faces of every pony all around the room went blank as they stared at her, a revelation that the conspiracy had already completely consumed the library and everyone within it.

She looked up at the ceiling, staring at the eyes that peered down at her, half-hidden and almost absorbed into the tree. She couldn’t believe that she’d missed that.

Looking back at Twilight, she watched as the love and care and friendship and eagerness that always glowed through her expression died. There was nothing left, only an emotionless, flat, barely-considering face looked down at her. It was like looking at someone that had lost any and all imagination, who saw only the facts in front of them, and that was all that they needed.

“The Nest welcomes you, Lyra.”

“Twilight, please –”

“This host is Twilight-Drone. You will become Lyra-Drone shortly.”

“NO!”

She was too tired to fight back, too weak from all her gallops away throughout the day. As the tendrils pulled her tail up, she could barely squirm against them. More pressed under her, one rubbing up and down against her sex, the other pressing against her raised asshole. Both were wet, slick with something that made them feel…feel better than they should, and her face burned as she shook her head again and again.

“No, no, no no no no no – NNNNGH!”

Then it was inside of her.

Lyra’s mouth hung open as she felt the stiff ends pushing inside of both her holes, spreading the open further and further as they probed for…something, she wasn’t sure. They were deep, though, and sliding around, and –

And Twilight had just shifted position. The alicorn mare pressed her lower half closer and closer to Lyra’s mouth, gently nudging her head down by her horn until they were pressed together. Pussy to mouth, warm, wet…

Hsss.

The flow went right down her throat due to the angle, an impossible shot for anyone else. She tried to pull away, but the tendrils had her tied, her horn was pinned, and then –

Zzzt.

Two little shocks went from her ass up her spine, and any sense of movement just…disappeared. Her body felt like it went limp, like everything was cut out from under her, and exhaustion and whatever the tendril was doing left her paralyzed. She could do nothing but swallow.

No, she was being made to swallow. More little tingle-shocks went up her spine, forcing her to swallow the piss that was slowly flowing over her tongue toward the back of her throat. She couldn’t stop it, and each swallow –

“Ah…mmmph…ah…”

Little moans escaped her as heated feelings spread through her body. Warm, happy, contented, aroused…They were familiar, but normally so far from her, and she shouldn’t have felt anything like that…

Except she did.

It didn’t take long for her head to start going fuzzier and fuzzier, her body tingling from head to toe. Her lips started kissing gently against Twilight’s pussy, never in a way that made sense or felt right, but more like a remembered response of having something like that pressed against her face. It felt good, but…but…

But what?

Her head was so fuzzy and fogged up that when the tendril released the worm in her, she barely noticed. She even drifted away as it set to work taking control.

Lyra-Drone returned home that evening. She had been restored with a mix of magic and the natural rejuvenating feeling that came from being linked to the Nest, so she no longer had the same bedraggled appearance that she’d had upon entering the library. It felt right. Then again, everything with the Nest felt right.

“Lyra? Is that you?” Sweetie Drops called from further in.

“Yes, dear. Sorry for worrying you; I had to go out and do a few more things before coming home.”

“I, um, see that you knocked the bathroom door off its hinges.”

“Yes, well, I, um, I did have quite the fright earlier,” she said, as she shut the front door behind her. “I thought I was completely out of my mind for a while, but I suppose I was just seeing things.”

“Well, that’s a relief. You’re feeling better now, though?”

“Yes.”

Yes, Lyra-Drone felt much better than she had as a non-host. Being a ‘free’ pony was rather overrated, and it was better to see the truth and move forward. The Nest would need to be more careful with its tendrils in the toilets, of course; she had nearly exposed them and it was only through sheer luck that her friends had been among the infested already. If she had gone straight to the Mayor, then they would have had a far worse time.

“I was thinking that we could just spend a night in,” Sweetie Drops said from the kitchen. “Have a little snuggle time, think about the future.”

“I’m all for that.”

“Do you have anything in mind for dinner?”

“Actually, I brought a whole basket of treats with me. Compliments of the Cakes.”

And each and every one of them would start pulling Sweetie down the road to her own infestation. Starting with a sticky little roll that should have been rammed down her throat at the bakery…

Chapter 19

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Dapper-Drone disconnected from the Nest with a silent slide along the root system, the earth pony released to his tasks for the day. The host was more than ready for the debate later; he knew that the Nest had already prepared his arguments against Mayor Mare, and more than that, he could feel that the plan for isolating her had already been put into effect.

Even though the connection between him and the Nest had already been severed, he could see the beginning work in his mind. The tangled roots of the main Nest and the hospital Nest were only just now beginning to talk to each other, but both were reaching out through the town, following the tunnels that they had carved in different directions and infesting every building that they could touch. They were still unsure where the various hosts actually lived, and it was still a process to untangle them, but that was not the important part.

No, the important part was, due to the infestation of both a city planner and one of the members of Mayor Mare’s staff, the Nests knew where the aides of the older mare lived, and they could take action.

He had seen, through the slow download of the arguments for the night’s debate, that they were being infested without warning and without mercy. He was allowed to replay them in his mind, seeing it happen once more.

A pegasus stallion pushing back, his balls hanging just over the edge of the toilet seat, almost touching the water as he wiggled himself into place for a morning piss. The tendrils seized him when there was no chance for him to pull away, dragging him back and silencing him with a new third tendril that gagged his mouth.

Push.

Thrust.

Fill.

The tendril spread his ring, forcing him wide as the parasite worm was rammed inside. The stiffening, the spasming, the shivering as the connection was established was as universal as the experience of being one with the Nest, with that greater mind and intelligence. The stallion slumped in seconds, then went stiff again, each limb coming back to life bit by bit as the Nest parasite took control.

He stared straight ahead, a mild piece of contentment flowing through his mind. For someone that felt so little so often, it was as good as orgasmic bliss. He needed very little these days to be satisfied.

Dapper-Drone walked through the basement of the library, feeling other memories passing through, the success of the Nest paraded through his mind. It was his reward, the host felt. He had been the first of the drones, the one that had pushed it on Twilight-Drone, the one that had helped organize and push everything to happen. The organization and order of pony society under the Nest was all due to him.

He was allowed some hint of pleasure. He was allowed to feel as if he had done something for the Nest.

A white-colored mare, her hefty rump hanging over the edge of the seat. The last of her urine dribbled down the inside of the porcelain throne, but she reached down with one forehoof to touch herself. The moment of weakness, of that need for personal pleasure, doomed her as she was suddenly speared by the tentacles of the Nest.

Another stallion, red-furred, his cock hanging down as he mounted the toilet in reverse. His cock was long enough that it fell into the water, and he took some dirty pleasure in urinating in the water itself. It was more than enough to give the Nest time to fill him from behind, and to cup his cock in a new, experimental tendril that would milk him to pleasurable release as a distraction.

Another stallion still, this one petite, almost mare-like with thick hips and a small sheath. He sat back, sliding back, his horn glowing as he floated just over the water. He was looking over a list of tasks and plans for the mayor when he was filled, trapped, infested.

And with each memory, Dapper-Drone was allowed some bit of the information gleaned from the new hosts. The earth pony was given information like the mayor’s tastes in wine, her worries for the town, little secrets that embarrassed her but weren’t that bad, so long as nobody had them pointed out. There were a hundred little bits and pieces that would make the debate that much easier for him, so long as he gave it the attention that it deserved.

Dapper-Drone left the basement and the many ponies still connected to the Nest behind, reaching the first floor. Twilight-Drone waited there, his top-hat on her forehoof as she held it out to him. He took it and put it on, tilting his head one way, stopping, ‘thinking,’ and then tilting it the other way.

“Is this host better straight, or angled?”

“Angled,” Twilight said. “This host finds it…rakish that way.”

“Are we going for attraction?”

“There is a portion of the ponies that will find it attractive. And that vote may swing your way.”

“It is strange to work this way.”

“It is strange to do all that we do.”

“…This is true.”

The more that the Nest grew, the more that it felt the differences between the Ponyville infestation and some ancient memory. It had always known how to move forward, how to take control of a population and spread its young through them. That was just keyed into its genetic make-up, somehow giving it the power to do it without thinking about it. No need to plan, just do.

But there was a memory of some other Nest doing something similar, of being the offspring of something far off, something that had conquered other places before. Not forever, failing at some point, but it was still aware that it had happened.

How?

When?

Why?

The Nest did not know, which meant that the drones and hosts were clueless, as well. What mattered was that it was growing, understanding, and it might be able to succeed where its past Nest selves had failed.

Dapper-Drone adjusted his hat once more, doing it in slow, mechanical motions until the positioning of the hat was mathematically perfect. The angle was right, the tilt was just perfect, and everything was as calculated as possible. His hide, likewise, had been as well-groomed as they could manage to make sure that he presented someone that was wealthy but relatable, successful but not too far beyond the bounds of the rest of the ponies in town.

For all that the plan was to infest the current mayor so that they had no chance of losing, they were hedging all their bets. He was running a real campaign, financed by Westin-Drone, advertised by Applejack-Drone, and advised by Twilight-Drone. They were all working together under the Nest to make this happen, one way or another.

He left the library, walking casually through town. The parasite inside took control once more, adjusting his steps to make him less hoity-toity, less practiced, and a little more casual in his steps. A smile pulled its way along the sides of his face, and the parasite made him nod genially at the various ponies that he passed.

No need to think.

No need to hold back.

Charm.

Kindness.

Knowledge.

Experience.

The parasite had been given the knowledge of how to present oneself from the hundreds of different hosts that connected to the Nests on a daily basis. There was nothing that it didn’t know about how to sell oneself to the populace. They were perfect. They were ready for this.

As they walked through town, the parasite started opening up some of the information downloaded. The debate for mayor would be simple enough; Mayor Mare had to defend her position as the mayor, and he had to show that he was the better option than continuing with the status quo.

The hard part, the Nest had realized early on, was that the current mayor had been able to hold her position for years because nothing bad had happened. She had been a fine option for a place where nothing happened at all, and she would push that.

He had to push back. And that was where things would get interesting.

The host knew that the mayor would be floundering once confronted; the early morning infestations of her aides meant that she’d have nobody passing her notes or other bits of information to help her when she was confronted with something new. She’d have to improvise, and according to what they had drained and gleaned from the new hosts, that was not one of her strengths. She would fumble, and then she would look pathetic in front of the various ponies watching the debates.

Dapper-Drone knew that the Nest bloc of voters was not enough on its own to elect him. It was getting close, yes, and there were quite a few of them that would vote for him, but it would be a minority compared to everything else. Perhaps…perhaps a trifle more than a third by now, but that was not enough compared to the remaining ‘free’ ponies.

A third. They are getting close. Very close.

And once they had an infested mayor…well, things might very well speed up with a few official orders.

For now, though, he would wander around, spend his time talking to other ponies, and build up a rapport before the debate.

Evening came. Pinkie-Drone had escorted him to the bathroom at the back of the shop, and Dapper-Drone had connected to the Nest in the toilet to see if there were any further updates. It was a connection to the hospital Nest, rather than the main Nest, but it was enough to get him something.

Mayor Mare was running scared.

Dapper-Drone was only vaguely aware of that as the Nest and his parasite communicated with each other, but there was just enough pulsing up and down his spine for him to get some information on the peripheries while his cock twitched and spasmed against his belly from the excitement of the connection. Pulse, throb, pulse, throb went his shaft, dribbling more corrupted pre-cum into a container that was set aside just for this purpose.

He could feel the parasite talking, and he waited patiently, knowing that whatever information the Nest deemed necessary for him would be passed along, but the knowledge that the mayor was not ready made him feel…

Feel something. And in an empty space like a drone normally had, anything was something incredible.

The pulsing continued, an extensive download of information coming through. The tendril pulsed one last time in his rump, then pulled back. No little ‘pop’ announced its departure; all hosts were modified and trained to accept things back there as soundlessly as possible.

Dapper-Drone stood there, still and silent, until his parasite chose to allow some information through, passing it through his mind and getting some information back from the reactions of his subconscious.

Mayor Mare had been seen rushing about in her campaign headquarters, begging everyone to give her something to work with. She was trying to find something wrong with Dapper-Bit Twist other than the fact that he was an outsider. She was trying to find something positive that she could push besides her record. She was trying to find anything beyond the bland phrases of a campaign to use.

And she was coming up with nothing.

The new hosts in her campaign building were sabotaging things left and right, ‘losing’ some of the donations that she had gotten from other ponies in town, making sure that she didn’t have the information that she needed about Dapper-Drone’s past, and everything else that they could do to make tonight harder for her. Everything was going wrong for the aged mare, and the hosts in her campaign reported that she was losing her composure and her confidence, and quickly.

It was the perfect ground for the debates.

Dapper-Drone stepped out of the bathroom. There was no conspiratorial nod to Pinkie-Drone or the Cakes. There was no need; none of them needed an update that they wouldn’t get from the Nest, anyway. He walked out of the empty bakery, only putting a smile back on his face when he was back in public.

The pull of those muscles still felt strange. He had spent so much time in isolation that the natural expressions of his face were just…blank. Completely limp and relaxed, without any smile-pull, or frown-tug, or anything that moved the muscles on his face at all. He had become used to that slightly slack feeling, and whenever he felt the muscles tighten in a new expression for the sake of his disguise, it almost felt…wrong.

With the moon starting to shine down on the town, he made his way to the debate stage in the town square. Other ponies were doing the same, some looking at him and muttering under their breaths, but most of them were just talking to each other.

“Do you think there’s a chance she can lose?”

“Oh, please, she’s been the mayor for decades. She’s going to keep it.”

“I don’t know. It’s been weird…the town feels…wrong, lately.”

“What, those rumors of ponies disappearing? Name one.”

“Well…”

“And besides, Princess Cadance will be here for the vote; nothing bad’s going to happen while she’s watching over the whole thing. And Shining Armor, too.”

It was a piece of information that the Nest had deemed unnecessary for the debate, but it was a piece that was worth remembering. Princess Cadance and her husband were coming to Ponyville for the election, and that meant that there would be someone else looking in on the doings of host and ‘free’ pony alike.

More to the point, from the infestation of Fluttershy, she was aware that something had already started happening in Ponyville, and that a trusted member of the town had noticed it. She would be conducting an investigation –

Dapper-Drone felt the surge of mild worry that accompanied any merchant at the thought of an investigatory audit, and his mind immediately started recalling the ways that one might obfuscate or delay the probes that would uncover the evidence of wrongdoing. His parasite indulged it for a few seconds, then shut him down as it continued marching him up the street. A few seconds later, the slight fear was gone, replaced with the reminder that there was no need to feel, worry, or anything else.

The Nest would take care of everything.

The Nest would use him to make it work out right.

The Nest knew how to handle this.

Dapper-Drone believed that, though he had no reason to. It was comforting enough to know that things would be alright, and he went with that.

The stallion finally reached the debate stage, mounting it from the right while his opponent stepped up from the left. They met in the middle of the stage, exchanged nods – his with a small smile, hers with a slightly more nervous one – and then took to their podiums. Another mare – sadly uninfested – sat in front of the stage as the moderator, and held a series of cards between her forehooves.

“The debate for Mayor of Ponyville will start shortly. You’ll each have five minutes to answer each question that I have for you, and time for a closing speech at the end of this. Is there anything that you would like to say before we get started?”

“Mayor Mare, I cede the floor to you for first speech,” Dapper-Drone said, the parasite using his voice and the learned eloquence of the salesman perfectly.

“Well, thank you for your kind manners,” Mayor Mare said. “Mares and gentle-ponies, I wish to remind you that, as your mayor for the last twenty years, I have done nothing but good things for this town. Ponyville has flourished, growing bigger and more diverse, more inclusive and more wonderful with each passing year under my tenure. What few issues we have faced have been dealt with in short order, and nobody has ever had anything much to complain about.

“I believe that, should you elect me, you do nothing more than show that you understand how things work in this world. If you want things to continue as well as they have, then please, consider a vote for a steady hand and an experienced eye. I am Mayor Mare, and I hope to see your vote this year.”

The crowd of ponies gave a cheer, though even through the parasite’s control, Dapper-Drone could tell that it was lackluster at best. There was some happiness in it, some relief, but that was as far as it went. There was no excitement, no fervor.

More of the same. Hardly the sort of rallying cry for most ponies. He waited for her to nod to him and cede her time back, then cleared his throat.

“Everyone, I think that we can all agree on what Mayor Mare has done for Ponyville, and that is…nothing.”

The crowd gasped, while the mayor herself whipped her head around toward him. He continued.

“I have been plying these roads for over a decade, and the only growth that Ponyville has ever seen has been at the hands and touch of others. Twilight Sparkle moved here, and there was a greater trade with Canterlot as Princess Celestia indulged her favorite student. The Elements of Harmony kept this town safe, and so more ponies came here to do business and move because they felt protected. The Changelings were banished from Equestria by Twilight Sparkle and her friends, and celebrity brought tourism to this small town, growing it to a small city.

“Through all that, what has Mayor Mare actually done? What did she take up? What did she actually offer you besides the deeds of others that she had no part in pushing or gathering? What reward did she offer them, besides to let them do what they wanted – not that she could stop them, if she wanted.”

The crowd was already muttering among themselves. Some were angry, yes, but there were others that were starting to take what he was saying on-board. Some of the infested hosts that he knew were in the crowd moved between the different groups, likely listening to them so that they could have a poll of information to pass on to the Nests at the end of the night about what the ‘free’ ponies were saying to each other.

But he wasn’t done. Not yet.

“And in exchange for doing nothing for you, Mayor Mare lives in a small mansion. She lives on the taxes that the town collects on all of you. She indulges herself with rare wines, and she pushes herself, not for the sake of the town, but for the sake of the status quo that allows her to live out her life in comfort.

“I can only imagine what it would be like to live like that. I have been on the road, chancing my living for years, never knowing if I am going to get paid enough at the end of a trip to make it worthwhile, or even to have enough to make another journey. But I do it, because I have to, and what other choice did I have.

“I understand what you have gone through. Does the current mayor? Or is she too focused on keeping things the way that they are, just so she can stay comfortable?”

Was it aggressive? Yes. Was it effective? It seemed so. The mood of the crowd had shifted, not to more enthusiasm, but to greater discontent. He had taken away all the comfort that the ponies had about the past years and made them think about just who was really responsible for all the good things that they had enjoyed. Not the mayor herself, but just the circumstances that she had overseen.

A very different candidate than she had initially seemed to be.

“Well, um…let’s move on to the questions…”

Dapper-Drone waited until the after-party was almost done and all the other ponies had gone home to emerge from his little stall off to the side. Mayor Mare still sat at one of the small tables, staring down at an empty glass through spectacles that were all but drooping off her face. Dapper-Drone reached back into the stall, pulling out a bottle of wine. The information that the aide had passed on had been sent to another host, who had gone to get a bottle of said wine, which had then been half-emptied, pissed in, and cum in by other hosts, and then brought to his stall during the debates. Now, it would serve its purpose. He popped the cork as he trotted over to the mayor.

“A peace offering?” the black-blue stallion asked.

Mayor Mare looked up at him as he approached. She looked positively defeated already, but she didn’t immediately lash out. Instead, she looked at him, then at the bottle.

“Old Range vintage,” she said, chuckling. “I haven’t seen a bottle of that for a very, very long time.”

“It’s been hard to get, but one has connections.”

“Clearly. Well…fair enough. Pour for me?”

He nodded, biting the bottle around the middle and tilting his head. With a practiced motion, he swirled it to the side right as it was about to overflow the glass, setting it down on the table.

“For someone so aggressive on-stage, you are surprisingly kind afterward,” she said.

“There’s business, and then there’s everything else. I don’t want to make enemies; I just want to win.”

“And change everything?”

“Hardly, but I do want the mayor to be actually involved. From the sound of things, you haven’t really done much. Maybe you can change after this, but why take the chance?”

“Hmmph.”

She took a sip, then a larger drink of the wine. Her cheeks reddened almost immediately as the drugged drink hit her hard, and she coughed as she put the glass down.

“Stronger than I remember.”

“Age has a way of making something stronger than one would think.”

“My, my. That’s perhaps the first kind thing that you’ve said about me since the night started.”

“I have other things I can say. And they’re even better.”

Mayor Mare looked at him with an arched eyebrow. She was slightly red-faced, but not enough to be completely out of it yet. The pearls around her neck clicked as she shook her head, chuckling under her breath as she took the glass and lifted it to her lips once more.

“I don’t think that I’ve had enough of this to know how to respond to that yet.”

“Then by all means, drink more.”

The flirting was not entirely genuine, of course. In his more free days, Dapper-Drone would never have been attracted to the mare in front of him. He doubted that his cock would have risen to her at any point, even if she was in heat and flaunting herself before him. There would have been no point in sticking it into someone that old, that wrinkled, that beneath him.

But he was Dapper-Drone now, and the host would do what he was instructed. If there was an option to get her infested, then he had to take it. If he couldn’t get her infested, then he needed to get her dosed with infested fluids, as much of it as possible, to start bringing her closer and closer to the point of willing infestation. If that meant flirting with her, getting her drunk, and then using her as hard as he possibly could…then the host would follow the orders of the Nest. There was nothing else that he would do.

They settled to talk. The conversation was bland, as Dapper-Drone knew it would be. The parasite was working off a set script that it had developed with the Nest, using what he and others knew of the mayor to come up with bland conversation that would flatter and soothe the ego of the offended mare.

It worked, too. In short order, she was asking for a refill and pushing to learn a little bit about him. The host responded with little bits and pieces, keeping his exploits reasonably low, always taking his time to offer her the chance to minimize it and not get offended. The push that he made on-stage was kept to the stage; everything that happened here was about Mayor Mare, allowing her to get what she needed to not feel so offended.

And as the cups kept flowing, she started sliding. The formerly huffy, slightly angry mare was replaced by one that smiled, laughed, and started giggling almost more like a filly than an experienced woman of a certain age. She leaned against one forehoof as the fourth cup was drained, taking the bottle instead. She tilted her head back, all but chugging it down as she sucked it away.

It almost looked like a party trick, as a matter of fact, and as she slammed the bottle back down, the host realized that was what it was. She was trying to impress him now.

“So…what do you say…we find somewhere private…”

“Say no more,” Dapper-Drone said.

They ended up going to a back alley. He would have preferred going to a room, but the mayor was feeling ‘nasty,’ or so she said. She didn’t want a hotel room or a place at an inn. She wanted something out of the way, somewhere that was a bit dirty, somewhere that she could feel like a hot young filly again.

And so, an alley it was, too far from anything that would properly infest her, and not worth dragging her through the streets to try and make it happen. Too early for that, and not yet late enough to try and hide her from alley to alley to take her to the library or hospital. He’d have to just settle for dosing her.

Mayor Mare flicked her tail to the side, showing two older, more experienced holes than Dapper-Drone would have cared to see. The host had his distaste pushed to the side, replaced with the requirements of the Nest.

Fuck.

Rut.

Break.

Drug.

He had to bring her down to a horny, needy level for future infestation, and as one of those that carried information back and forth between Nests in the past, he was one of the few suitable for something else: his seed was not just drugged, but capable of delivering a little message, as well. Not hypnotic, not controlling, but something in that vein. It would give her a need to keep seeing him, to keep coming back…

And hopefully, one day, it would lead to her coming to the Nest itself, and being lost to it.

She flicked her tail from side to side, fanning pheromones to a mind that was no longer capable of reacting to them on its own. The parasite had to force his cock to drop, then to rise against his belly for what they were going to do. A chuckle that was not his own slipped past his lips as he pushed closer to her, the flare of his shaft sliding between her hind legs as he hopped onto her back.

“Are you ready, Mayor?”

“Mmmph, go on…make me feel like a good mare again…It’s been too long.”

“It doesn’t look it.”

“Well…toys don’t do enough for this pony anymore.”

“Well, let’s see how well you can still take it, then.”

The parasite wanted to rut her rump, but they knew that it wasn’t quite time. She was still too sober, despite drinking almost a bottle of drugged wine, and it made the parasite wonder just how many other substances she had enjoyed as the mayor while out of sight. They’d have to bring more next time, just to make sure that she was sufficiently drugged for further infestation.

Pussy would have to do. The host lowered his hips just enough to line the flared head up with it and thrust forward, the wet squelch of entry loud enough to hear through the alley.

“Mmmph…yeeeeees…”

Mayor Mare’s moans were lewd and soft, the village’s leader bucking her hips back like a mare half her age. Each buck sheathed his shaft in her all the way up to the hilt; for all that the mayor was an old pony in public, looking like she was past her prime, she was taking dick like someone that was built for it. In, out, in, out, moaning for every thrust that she could get, and then pushing for more. Her hips slapped against the base of his sheath again and again, and the hard use was already pushing the host body to its limits.

If it wasn’t for the parasite, Dapper-Drone was ashamed to admit that he might have already cum from just one minute of that eagerness. Mayor Mare panted, her gray mane swaying as she took it hard.

“Yes, yes! Give it to me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”

The host obeyed, ramming forward. Dapper-Drone lost himself in the parasite’s grip, letting himself be made to enjoy it. In, out, in, out, the parasite ramming the mare against the wall to keep some control of the situation, fucking her faster and harder to keep those experienced hips still. It used her, rutted her, oozing more and more of the drugged pre-cum into her sex.

It had to take effect soon. It had to.

In, out, in, out, faster, harder. Dapper-Drone’s body was pushed to its limits by the parasite, turning him into a rutting machine that fucked the mayor under him as hard as it could. The strain on the muscle was more present than ever before, his hind legs feeling like they were on the verge of cramping up from the hard thrusts that they were made to do. In, out, in, out, the wet pussy of the mare under him dribbling down to the ground, his pre-cum soaking her as much as her own juices.

“Give it to me! Cum in me!”

Mayor Mare was lost to lost, but that didn’t mean that she was safe. The host slammed in, keeping up the pace, feeling his balls rising slowly. The parasite was measuring just the right time, humping away, forelegs wrapped around the mare’s belly. She moaned for them, pushing back, trying to clench around them enough to milk them –

“Ah!”

She moaned, cumming before them. The rippling motions of her pussy pushed the parasite’s control to the edge, but it managed to hold out, just barely. It waited, enduring the rippling, milking, squeezing feelings around its cock, before finally pushing in one last time at the end of the mare’s orgasm.

Cum, drugged, corrupted cum shot into her. It carried all the potency of the drugged pre-cum and piss from earlier, except with a twist. It was both stronger, and it had that push to be addicted, to be enamored of the source of that seed. Pulse, pulse, pulse. Each shot squirted a little bit deeper, going right for the mare’s womb, flooding her with everything that Dapper-Drone had.

They held themselves there in the alley, bonded at the hips. They held that pose for nearly a minute before Dapper-Drone pulled back, flared dick slowly popping free, and the mayor moaned under her breath as she collected herself. She wobbled on all fours, nearly falling over before she caught herself.

“Mmmph…you’re so good…I hope we can do that after the other debates, too, hehehe…”

And she still wasn’t entirely drugged or drunk on it. She had some staying power, that was for sure. Dapper-Drone would need some extra help to make sure that she was inebriated enough on this to actually infest later.

“Of course,” he said.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The mayor giggled as she wandered off. The host shook his head. This was going to take longer than the Nest had planned, but at least they had opened the door.

Chapter 20

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Mayor Mare spent the next day more distracted than she remembered being for a long time. Not since she was a younger mare had she thought so hard about some lucky stallion somewhere, and even then she hadn’t been quite so…moist…thinking about him in the first place. Her sex ground against her lounge in the back of her office throughout the day, and she had more than a few close encounters when a petitioner came to ask her for some help. She always managed to cover it up, and the open window meant that there was plenty of ventilation to hide the scent, but the brown-furred, gray-maned mare constantly found herself wishing that they would go away so that she could get back to her self-gratification.

It was…intense, to say the least, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she made the best decisions the day after the debate, but she did her best. She pushed through as she had always done before, but as soon as the work day was over she felt…a need. An intense need, for that matter, and she knew there was only one person that could scratch it.

Sending a runner off to the Dapper-Bit Twist campaign, Mayor Mare got up from her lounge chair, groaning as she cracked her neck and hip slightly. Relieved, if only slightly, she trotted out of her office and into town. Her opponent would get her message soon enough, and he should get the picture of where to meet her.

She’d been graphic enough in the note, at the very least, that any stallion should know how lucky they were to be invited like this.

It turned out that he was there before her, and the blue-black stallion turned to smile at her as she arrived. There was something almost a little teasing about it, and she blushed, feeling like a younger mare again.

“I didn’t expect you to want a second round,” he said.

“Well, call me a fool, but you did such a good job last time…”

“Well, I tried. I didn’t think that I’d be able to keep up with you, but it seems that age has barely dulled you at all.”

“Dulled me? No. Just made me that much more…needy.”

And needy she was; she didn’t know where all this arousal came from, considering that she was well-past her heat cycle, but she had been dripping all day. Her juices ran down her hind legs as her fantasies continued running through her head. It was like she couldn’t think of anything but Dapper-Bit, and the earth pony was clearly picking up on that, considering his slow-dropping dick.

Mmm, come to mama…

She sidled past him, her tail flicking under his nose. A little chuckle of embarrassment escaped her muzzle as she leaned nearer to a wall, putting her forehooves against it before flicking her tail to the other side.

“How do you want it?” Dapper-Bit asked as he moved behind her, his shaft hardening against her hind legs.

“I want it…in my ass tonight…”

“Oh? Old lady like you still likes it back there?”

“Just because I get a little older doesn’t mean I don’t like it a little…dirty.”

“Well, dirty we can do.”

He was on top of her a second later, and his fat shaft was sliding between her rump cheeks. He only gave her a few little teases before starting to grind against the other hole, and the sheer girth of him left her huffing under her breath.

That was always part of her fantasies. The sheer size that he had down there felt impossibly large, like he was some well-endowed, cursed stallion from some erotic novella. She shivered as he worked it against her other hole, teasing, nudging, greasing it up with his juices. It tingled in a way that she had only felt in her fantasies before, and she rolled her hips back to meet him, teasing him back.

Nudge, nudge, squelch.

The kiss of his cock to her hole left her whimpering slightly, feeling like some inexperienced filly getting her first time with an experienced lover. She wanted it, needed it, and the tingles that spread from her hole with each little ‘kiss’ of that flared head made her feel more and more lightheaded. She wasn’t thinking clearly, and she knew that, but at that moment, she didn’t really care.

She needed him.

She’d have him.

Thrust.

Squelch.

And then he was in, and her mouth fell open as her tongue lolled to the side. The rough, heated, so naughty feeling of a cock like that inside of her other hole, the naughty hole, made her moan out loud. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and only the sheer pressure of the stallion on her back kept her from just rolling her hips back to fuck him her way. She was getting used now, his hips starting to buck against her rump hard and fast, and the soft smack, smack, smack of his balls against her pussy was enough to keep her wet and willing.

Even as the heated, lustful haze that she vaguely remembered from last time descended on her, she felt the hunger coming through hot and strong. The hunger for pleasure, the hunger for him.

More.

The next day, they met in the inn, and she leaned back on the bed, her head on a pillow and her legs sprawled out to the sides. She felt like some strange whore, almost, coming to bed with a stranger that was paying for her services. It was such a delightfully strange feeling as Dapper-Bit loomed over her, his forehooves on the bed and his cock sliding past her sex to her belly, and then back down again.

“Take me…”

She’d been thinking about him all day again, barely able to get any work done. All that mattered was the thought of his cock, his balls, his seed. There was something addictive about having him inside of her, something that she couldn’t get away from, and all she wanted – all she needed – was to get through the day before she could have him again.

Squelch.

He was inside of her again, the slick, slimy feeling of being filled and stretched overwhelming her almost immediately. He pushed in deep, and her juices squirted out around him, running down between her legs to her puckering anus. His first little squirt of pre-cum left her wide-eyed and oozing, dripping like mad. It was like every time he filled her, she found something that she liked even more than the last time that they’d been together.

She craved him.

She needed him.

There was nobody else that could make her feel like this.

So, she spread her legs and let him have her, begging him with every thrust to take her harder. She might have been the mayor outside of the room, but with Dapper-Bit, she was nothing but a good little whore, and she loved it.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It was just after their last debate, the day before the election, and she couldn’t bring herself to go back to her office. She needed him right then, right there, and he’d been willing. And more than that, he had brought friends this time.

Mayor Mare looked at the other stallions that had come with him, ranging from some unknown from his campaign to Big Macintosh, and she blushed worse than she had ever done before. The feeling of having so many stallions staring down at her, knowing what she was there for, nearly sent her running off with her tail between her legs. Nearly, but that need that came whenever she looked at Dapper-Bit made her take it like the experienced mare she was.

“Ah, ah, ah!”

She moaned behind the stage, the old mare gasping for breath as she took Big Mac’s cock in her pussy and Dapper-Bit stood in front of her. Each thrust was something new, hitting her so far into her core that there was nothing she could do but stand there and take it. Take it. Take it. Her eyes were rolling back in her head, leaving her spasming and cumming her brains out. Three times already, her body wracked with the pure pleasure of being their toy. Their whore.

“Open.”

She barely had a chance to do as she was told before Dapper-Bit mounted her face. He thrust past her lips, grinding into her muzzle and sheathing his cock down her throat. It was the first time that he’d done that to her, and the first time that she’d given him a blowjob. A part of her wondered how they had managed to avoid doing that this long.

She was just starting to swallow and suck as she remembered doing to stallions when she was younger when –

Hsssss.

“Nnngh?!”

It was almost enough to shock her out of her lusty state when she felt the heated stream of piss running down her throat. The mayor tried to pull back, but with Big Mac over her back and Dapper-Bit rammed balls-deep down her throat, there was nothing she could do. She could only swallow desperately, breathing around it –

“Mmmph…mmm…”

And then…

Then it hit. Her head rolled back as the humping got harder, something in the piss stream taking her right out of herself. She felt light and floaty in a way that she hadn’t felt since that first night with him, and even that was small compared to this. She drank it down without thinking, unable to stop herself as she swallowed again…and again…and again. Each pulse of his cock sent more piss down to her guts, and each time she swallowed –

“Nnngh…”

Her pussy clenched around the red stallion, her orgasm hitting her hard, but…but not overwhelmingly. It was like…like she was having a harder and harder time feeling connected to her own body, like everything that she normally thought about and felt was further away.

Drink.

It kept going down, her head feeling stuffier and floaty. She couldn’t get a thought through her own skull, and Dapper-Bit didn’t stop. He just held her there, relentless and firm, while Big Mac humped away. The squelching, thrusting, sexy feeling of being pinned and used was still there, but even that was distant compared to what she had felt only a few seconds ago. It was just…it was there, but she wasn’t quite there to be connected to it. She felt…disconnected.

And it felt…good.

Dapper-Bit pulled out, and so did Big Mac once he came. The squirting heat through her guts was…intense, to say the least, and she shivered as she stared up at the stallion that had become her lover. He looked into her eyes without the same smile that she’d come to adore. None of that teasing confidence, none of the cocky knowingness. It was empty, blank. It was dead.

“She is ready.”

“This host will take her to the farm.”

“This host will accompany.”

Host?

Farm?

What?

It was a long journey by wagon to Sweet Apple Acres, and every time that Mayor Mare thought that she was waking up, she was visited by either Dapper-Bit or one of the other ponies working with him. Sometimes it was a stallion, sometimes it was a mare, but either way, they would straddle her face and force her mouth against their sex. The stallions would piss down her throat, while the mares would grind against her lips until she opened her mouth and then piss over her tongue.

Every time, it pulled her back to that sleepy, not-quite-there place, and each time, she felt herself drift further, falling away from the world and just laying there, horny and helpless.

Time was a funny thing when you couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t sure how long it took to get from Ponyville to Sweet Apple Acres, but they arrived just before sunset. Big Mac, Applejack, and even Twilight Sparkle were there, helping lift her out of the wagon and carrying her to the barn. She couldn’t keep her hooves under her; if anyone had seen her, they would have thought that she’d hit the cider too had and needed to take some time to sleep it off. Should she be embarrassed about that?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.

The door to the barn opened. She saw something, wriggling things in the dark, the smell of sweet apples mixed with the earthiness of sex and humping creatures. She felt her hooves being dragged over something slimy, wet, something that felt somewhere between muddy and something more sensual. She didn’t know what to think; all she knew was that she was dragged further and further into darkness.

They turned her around, facing her toward the door. One forehoof on her back pushed her hips down, down, down, until she felt it grinding against the edge of something more phallic. Her needs were so high that she wanted to push her hips down on her own, but her body wouldn’t let her. It was completely out of her control.

Down.

Big Mac pushed her hips down onto it, and the soft swell of something spreading her asshole was enough to leave her feeling satisfied, at least physically. Her pussy clenched on nothing, her mare-hole wanting the same spreading that her ass was getting, but it was denied. At least, for now.

Tingle. Another little shock that went up and down her spine, but more concentrated than anything that she’d gotten from the stallions. It rattled her from head to hoof, and she would have collapsed if…

If it wasn’t for the fact that the thing in her ass not only was huge enough to hold her up, but was also starting to send little shocks through her lower half, making her shift her position, giving her a little more of a grip, making her sit upright in a way that kept her from falling over. It was…it was controlling her. It was seizing hold of her, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

Clench.

It was like a rhythmic pulse. The thing inside of her would send a tingle up her spine, and that tingle would cause her asshole to clench around that thing. Her rump would spasm, her cheeks would pull tight, and something…something pulled further and further out of the tendril inside of her. It was climbing in, pulled further and further towards her core with each forced clench that she was made to do. Tingle, spasm, clench. Tingle, spasm, clench.

Her pussy drooled, but before she could think to question it, or feel fear, or feel anything, Dapper-Bit appeared. He didn’t comfort her, nor save her. He just reared back, his cock in her face, and pushed the head past her spread lips. She had no strength to resist him as he pissed down her throat again, the soft taste almost too far away to register, and she just stared straight into his belly as he forced his urine down her throat.

It banished the last of her fear, leaving her just staring straight ahead, her mouth open, her eyes half-closed, and her body just wracked with pleasure.

As the pulsing continued, and the clenching followed, she felt something poking out of the tendril inside of her. There was something that was getting closer and closer to sliding into her, she realized, something that…that didn’t really…

No moan escaped as it hit her with a harder shock, one that spasmed right through her body. Every limp bit of her went tense at once, her hooves clicking gently against the barn floor. She stared straight ahead as the shocks stopped disappearing, leaving nothing but an intense flow of tingles that was almost too much for her to take. It spread up her spine, then out through her legs, down her limbs to her hooves. More of it spread through her middle, touching at her womb, her dead womb, and then up to her heart and lungs.

Tingle, tingle, tingle it went, almost overwhelming her. If she had been at all sober, she was sure that she would have been screaming. As it was, she stared forward as dead to the world as any of the other creatures around her.

Pulse.

Squeeze.

Pulse.

Squeeze.

The little tingles started to fade, but not before there was a little ripple of testing down her legs. She felt it. Each muscle tightening, bulging, showing itself through her fur before relaxing again. This here, that there, almost like some filly or colt pressing buttons that they didn’t understand. Touch, and this reacts. Stroke, and that reacts. Here, there, everywhere, even one that clenched tight around her bladder and –

She would have moaned, or hissed, or something if she had been completely allowed. The pressure around her bladder made her more aware of just how much urine she had consumed in the last…who knew how long. It wanted out. She needed to let it out.

And the strange control made her let it all out, all at once, all over herself.

Mayor Mare stared straight ahead, not even a blush on her cheeks as the thing inside of her forced her to release, her bladder slowly condensing in as it was clenched by the muscles around it. Pulse, throb, pulse, the heat running through her inner parts, down through the space between her legs, then forcing its way out through her urethra. She felt it puddling under her, wet and hot, and…and…

She didn’t care.

She didn’t care.

There was no shame, embarrassment, or even pleasure as this thing pushed her to relieve herself as it tested every part of her. It was like all of those feelings had been tossed into her bladder and forced out with the rest of her waste. It was just…gone, and she was little more than a shell for –

“This host…is learning…”

The words came from her lips, and she could hardly believe her ears. She felt her head turn, looking through eyes that moved and darted about the room in a way that she didn’t ask them to.

She didn’t stand, but she felt her forehooves moving, tapping, shifting, adjusting her balance. She felt her body push itself back down, lodging something against her sex, not inside it, but against it. A little tingle followed, almost like an electrical shock that bounced off the thing in her anus.

“This host is already enticed to join.”

“It is broken in?” Dapper-Bit – no, Dapper-Drone, Mayor Mare realized – asked.

“It was broken when it was brought in,” she said, her mouth again moving without her consent. “It is…eager. It wants this.”

“She hid it well.”

“It is no longer hidden. She is with the Nest now.”

Nest.

Just the word sparked something for her, and she found that she loved it as much as she was capable of loving anything in that moment. She kept staring straight ahead, straight at Dapper-Drone as more was shoved up through her ass, along her spine, and into her head. The thing that burrowed into her, that thing that she had milked out of the tendril with each clench of her ass cheeks and puckered hole, continued to learn and speak through her lips.

“A visitor is coming, coming soon,” Mayor Mare felt herself say.

“The Princess of Love.”

“And her husband.”

“Future hosts.”

“They will be infested.”

“Plans?”

“Being made.”

“Sync yourself. There is much to know.”

Mayor Mare – soon to be Mare-Drone – felt the shocks of pleasure increase rapidly. She had no choice but to open herself up and sink deeper into the welcoming tendrils of the Nest, her parasite inside already taking control.

The knowledge of the Nest filled her, and everything she knew went back the other way. She was nothing but a conduit, a thing for the parasite inside of her to use to spread the Nest further through the pony population.

And just like what had happened to her so far, she didn’t care. She wasn’t allowed to care. All she had to do was serve.

And as she had been a civil servant most of her life, that was an easy role to slide into.

The election was set up for the next day, and all of Ponyville came to the polls to cast their votes. It was the biggest turn-out that its population had ever seen, and most of the polling centers were completely overwhelmed with the numbers that they had to deal with. Some ponies were asked to go to different stations entirely, and some of them were pushed to wait their turns for hours due to the sheer number of them that turned up.

Unlike past elections, well before Mayor Mare had taken her position, the two candidates were not separate. They spent most of the morning together. Not fucking, of course – the need for that was past, now that Mare-Drone had become a thing – but rather listening and watching, and waiting for the spies that the Nest had along the road to report that the Crystal Empire and its royalty were approaching. They were not going to be caught off-guard.

Mare-Drone was impressed at the sheer power of the Nest, or at least, she was as impressed as a host-drone could be about the network that the Nest had put together. It controlled over a third of Ponyville directly through its parasites, and there were others that it controlled by having ponies in high-ranking positions that were making sure that certain orders were carried out. At first, she was more shocked that it hadn’t already taken over without pushing for the vote, but then she had been given more information. Mare-Drone didn’t need it to follow through, but perhaps some part of the Nest had learned how to gloat, or perhaps it had decided to filter the information through her head to avoid making further mistakes for any further expansions by seeing what she knew.

In either case, Mare-Drone had been informed about the tunneling roots, and she had been horrified. Not because of what they could have done – she had been completely brought in through the night, dragged through the same indoctrination that Rainbow Dash had, hurried but effective – but rather because of how it could have gone so very wrong.

With the Nest burrowing through the town, all it would have taken were a handful of failed infestations before they were completely exposed. Lacking the support of Twilight Sparkle, the hospital, and several different high-profile ponies that could have talked down the dangers, the Nest would have been exposed, dug out, and then likely set on fire so that nobody else would be harmed.

The only reason that hadn’t happened was because most of the town’s power structure had been infested before that had started happening. Their way of spreading out and infesting buildings was a powerful tool, and the way that it allowed the various hosts to network with each other while they were connected to the roots was powerful, but it was a tool that had to wait until they had both infested people in power and had ponies in the Nest that were able to direct the new sapling to the right pipelines to its targets.

It was something that she could feel that the Nest took on and would store away, waiting for a different day to do it right.

Dapper-Drone and Mare-Drone were both connected to the Nest, being fed plans and scripts for whoever happened to win, when the notice came through. One of the plugged-in scouts at the edge of town had just seen Cadance and Shining Armor approaching with their entourage. It was time to start taking action.

Dapper-Drone and Mare-Drone disconnected at the same time, standing in unison as the Nest tendrils in the mayor’s office retracted from them. It was time for them to get ready to greet their guests. The last thing that either of them felt was the Nest sending out commands to all those still attached to run and find the other hosts, ensuring that they were all on-script for the royal visit.

Every host had a list of other hosts to check in on. Everyone would find them soon enough.

The plan would go on without a hitch.

Twilight-Drone and Mare-Drone were there to meet the Princess of Love. As Twilight-Drone gave the prepared story of practicing her scrying magic and keeping the Princess busy with a warm greeting, Mare-Drone looked at the rest of the entourage that had been brought along.

Most of them were no great worry. A few Crystal ponies had come along, but most were soldiers that Shining Armor had trained during his days in Canterlot, as far as she could tell. They wouldn’t be a great threat themselves, so long as they didn’t have their leader. She doubted that there would be any great issue with Twilight-Drone handling Shining Armor; the Nest had already put that plan forward.

“So, Mayor Mare.”

Mare-Drone looked up at the alicorn. Cadance smiled down at her, gentle and loving as she always was. Her parasite kept her face knowing and experienced, with a little bit of the usual elder compassion.

“Yes, Princess? How can I serve you?”

“I’d like to hear from you just how bad the situation is.”

“How bad?” Mare-Drone asked, cocking her head to the side. “Goodness, have you been hearing something I haven’t?”

“…Do we need to talk privately, mayor?”

“I – if you feel that there is something that we need to talk about, then I would appreciate some privacy, yes. If there is some state secret –”

“Heh, looks like it might have been Fluttershy getting worked up about nothing, dear,” Shining Armor said, shaking his head. The white-furred, blue-maned stallion chuckled. “I told you that she was probably seeing things.”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure that we can just dismiss it, dear. I want to spend some time around Ponyville, just to be sure.”

“Well, that’s fine with me. More time with my sister, eh?”

Shining Armor dashed past his wife to his sister, and Twilight-Drone emulated all the affection that a little sister could have for her big brother. They danced about in a circle, and even to Mare-Drone, it was almost impossible to tell that there was anything faked or manufactured about their affection.

The Nest was perfect. The Nest knew exactly how to blend in.

“Miss Mare?”

“Yes, yes, dear. Coming.”

When Cadance left her office, Mare-Drone had a better picture of what their visitors were concerned about. It wasn’t as bad as the Nest had feared, but it was still something to keep an eye on.

Cadance had arrived with the thought that the things that Fluttershy had seen were remnants of old Sombra’s power, and she wanted to take a long walk through Ponyville and its surrounds to see to it that the old king had nothing left. She didn’t quite suspect that there were parasites around, but that was why she had brought the Crystal ponies: they were more sensitive to that power than regular ponies were, and it would give her the chance to find it and, if it existed, root it out.

Mare-Drone had been happy to give her access to the woods around Ponyville, but had also asked if she wouldn’t mind giving the results of the election that night as the honored guest. The Princess of Love agreed, and that had been the end of that.

Mare-Drone looked at the closed door once Princess Cadance was gone, already imagining what might happen next. The Nest had a great need to bring the Princess of Love into its embrace; with her power, the spread of the Nest in the Crystal Empire would be all but guaranteed. With Shining Armor also under its control, it would be able to spread through the kingdom’s military, as well; all it would take would be the excuse of ‘military exercises’ to bring other ponies from other lands to the isolated kingdom, and then they would be sent back with parasites and a new sapling ‘gift’ that they could maintain connection with.

And that would only be the start.

What had been the Mayor of Ponyville had become nothing more than a host, a drone in service to the Nest. What had once been a mind dedicated to maintaining the status quo was nothing more than a font of information for how to change it. Everything that she had been devoted to – peace, happiness, the stability of time – was thrown out the window and replaced with what the Nest wanted.

Order.

Predictability.

Hosts.

Always hosts, more and more of them, waiting to be lined up and given a new parasite to carry around to further the ends of the Nest itself. And those ends?

To spread.

To grow.

To take root and hold tight for as long as it lived. What did they want at the end of the line? She didn’t know, and either the Nest itself didn’t know, or it wasn’t telling any of its hosts. And at the end of the day, it didn’t really matter; they were there to accomplish its will, not to question it or understand it. All they had to do was follow through and make it happen.

Mare-Drone looked out her window at Ponyville. On the surface, it still looked so very like the town that she had looked after for most of her life. The trees were there, though expanded compared to her childhood. The library tree still stood over all the other buildings around it. The expansions that the town had gone through since the childhood of Twilight Sparkle and the others were so mild compared to what she remembered of how the town used to be.

But things had changed. And they would change far more before they were done.

Soon enough, the library tree would be the Nest tree, and all would be infested and connected to it.

Chapter 21

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Twilight-Drone was tired. Not from anything physical, but rather from the painful effort of pretending such a wellspring of emotion. The requirement to act excited, to be bouncy and eager and happy about both Princess Cadance and the host’s brother, Shining Armor, was beyond anything that the parasite had been forced to do until that point. To prance, to play, to act as if it was young and excited and gleeful, was something that it had thankfully had to do very little of previously.

Now, however, it had to keep its host at that point constantly. The pleasure that she was supposed to show around Shining Armor, from prancing about him like a too-eager little sister, to all the memories that she was supposed to have of her time with Princess Cadance, exhausted the parasite. It looked forward to little more than time to itself connected to the Nest, where it could drain everything that it didn’t need back into the greater structure.

But that time was still far off, hours away, and it had to keep up the act. It bore up as best it could, keeping all the struggle from showing on the host’s face, and smiled up at Cadance again as they talked. The backstage area of the stage erected in the public square was surprisingly quiet, considering the size of the crowd outside, and might have made an ideal infestation area.

If the target weren’t so powerful.

The parasite in Twilight-Drone could feel the magical power pouring off of Cadance. While it was merely love rather than any utility magic such as what Twilight-Drone was capable of, there was so much of it, and it only grew the more that she was around Twilight-Drone and Shining Armor. Their ‘love’ for her fed that power, and the parasite could feel…things. Nothing that threatened its loyalty to the Nest, but things that it, and its host, weren’t supposed to feel at all.

Cadance, while not Celestia or Luna, was a threat all her own. She had to be taken down, but it would have to be done carefully. Stripping her of power, first, and then bringing her to be drugged and infested.

Twilight-Drone thought all of this in the space of a half-second, and then it was back to talking with the princess.

“I’m sorry about having to take so much time for this, Twilight. I’d love to spend more time with my little sister in law, but, heh, matters of state. You understand.”

“Of course, Cadance. I completely get it. You need to take care of this, and so, you should. I can keep myself busy with Shining Armor in the meantime.”

“Heh, I’d appreciate that. You know how he can be; he’s serious, but he doesn’t know how to give things quite the same level of attention as I can, you know?”

“Oh, trust me. I know. The stories I could tell…”

Cadance hid a laugh behind a forehoof, and Twilight-Drone giggled with her. The effort hurt the host’s face; they had been laughing more in the last two hours than they had in the last two months, and it was something that the body was no longer used to. It was something that the parasite would carry back to the Nest as an insight and observation when this was done.

“So, who won?” Twilight-Drone asked.

“Hmm?”

“You’re making the announcement about the election before you go for that walk, right? Who won?”

“Oh, don’t tell me that you’re not sticking around to listen?”

“Well, I was hoping to take Shining for a picnic.”

“Welllll, I guess that makes sense,” Cadance said, shaking her head. “I was kind of surprised, honestly. I had to look through the votes and make sure that it all added up properly at the end of it all.”

“What, Mayor Mare…lost?”

“By more than I expected, too. She went from having a majority to losing 65% to 35%.”

Information that was rather useful to the Nest, too. They had thought that it would be much closer than that if Dapper-Drone won at all. If they were able to shift public opinion that far with a good campaign, then perhaps there were ways to take control of just a small amount of a town and then move from the top down, rather than starting from the bottom and working up.

It was worth considering, at the very least.

“How did she take it?” Twilight-Drone asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well…not the greatest. When I left, she was crying and pulling out a bottle. I hope that she doesn’t take it too far.”

That bottle, unfortunately, would have been useful against Cadance. Twilight-Drone knew that it had been meant to be an invitation to bring the princess in for a long talk under the influence of the drugged ‘wine’ in the bottle, but it hadn’t gone that way. Clearly, they’d need to do something more with the Princess of Love to get her into a more vulnerable place.

But that was something that they would figure out. They had her here for a while, and the Nest was intelligent. They would come up with a strategy.

“Ah, well. I better get out there and make the announcement. You take care of your brother, okay?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ll bring him back well-fed.”

“Heh, that’s my filly.”

Cadance leaned down, and Twilight-Drone tapped her horn against the larger mare’s appendage. There was a brief spark of affection between the horns, and then the princess was passing through the curtains to the other side.

Twilight-Drone let her smile drop, a hint of relief coming through the host’s body as their sore muscles were allowed to go still. There was no sigh, no sudden slump; hosts didn’t do that. Instead, the parasite gave a dead-eyed stare toward the slight opening in the curtains for the few seconds that it needed to gather itself, and then turned itself away, walking to the stairs at the very, very back of the stage.

Shining Armor waited there, the white-furred, blue-maned stallion chuckling as she came down. Her brother leaned against a nearby wagon, shaking his head.

“Cadance tell you the results?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t think that Mayor Mare could ever lose.”

“Yeah, well, that happens when people start changing. Between you and me, I think it’s a good thing. No matter how good people have been, they need to change from time to time. Otherwise, they end up getting all stuck on the status quo.”

“Heh, are you going to tell Celestia that?”

“Oh, Celestia no. I’m not going to put my head on the chopping block.”

“Hehehe, glad to know I don’t have all the brains.”

“Just most, Twili, just most.”

“Hehehe.” The host forced the giggle, already looking forward to the moment when the two royals were going to be properly infested and no longer like this. “So, I had a little surprise for you. A picnic down on the riverbank. Shall we?”

“A picnic with my little sis? How can I say no?”

“Yay!” Twilight-Drone clapped her forehooves together for a second, her wings beating to keep her from overbalancing. “Wonderful! Come on. I left the basket near the picnic spot so we didn’t have to carry so much.”

“Heh, that’s the Twilight I remember. Always trying to get around chores.”

“I’m sure you mean that’s what you used to do.”

“Okay, maybe I’m misremembering, but you have to admit, any other sister would have done that.”

“Any other sister but the best student that Celestia has ever had.”

“Well, you’re definitely that…”

The walk was another long example of how much different situations drew different levels of energy from the parasite. With Cadance, the hard part was keeping up the levels of affection that the host was supposed to have for the princess while not letting it turn into the romantic love that others would have shown at that point. The various memories, the weird relationship that Twilight had with a babysitter that had turned into a sister-in-law, and the other parts of the relationship that were very atypical meant that the parasite was constantly juggling more variables than it was used to.

With Shining Armor, there was a similar problem. The two siblings had an intense relationship, so intense and loving that it was almost a romantic thing, but they couldn’t go there. Not yet, not without turning everything weird. The sheer power behind their sibling love meant that the parasite had to keep far more details right, and it meant that its connection to Twilight-Drone’s mind was closer than usual, forcing the parasite to exert more effort to keep correcting itself from the micro-errors that it kept making.

How close to walk to Shining Armor?

How much tail to tail contact?

How much love versus how much friendship?

How much to talk about versus how much to keep quiet?

Geek out? Listen? Push different views?

Dance or walk?

There were hundreds, thousands of decisions to keep making, and each time, the parasite had to do it instantly, faster and faster to make sure that the relationship that Shining Armor remembered was still there and keep him from getting suspicious. The parasite had never needed to go that far before, and it hoped that it would never have to do that again.

They reached a bend in the river that went by Ponyville and the nearby forest, shadowed by a tree with a waiting picnic blanket for the pair of them. Twilight gestured at it with a forehoof, keeping a pleased grin on her face, and Shining Armor chuckled as he walked over.

“Trust my little sister to prepare and overprepare for everything,” he said, trotting onto the blanket before lying down and getting comfortable. “But I have to admit, this is a great place. When’d you find it?”

“Oh, a couple weeks ago. I thought I’d save it for when you visited.”

“Well, I love it. Thanks. So, uh, where’s the food and stuff?”

“Let me get it. You wait right here, rest, relaxing. Your little sister will take care of everything.”

Pushing it a little bit there, the parasite knew, but there was a little bit of pushing needed. They wanted Shining Armor to stay where he was so that they could get a proper dose ready to make sure that he took to the infestation properly. If he came around and saw what they were doing –

No, no, they’d be fine. As long as Shining stayed where he was, and the unicorn stallion seemed quite happy to do that.

Twilight-Drone walked around the tree. It didn’t take long to find the hidden picnic basket, shielded with a little bit of her magic to make sure that no pests got in. The host undid the spell quietly and pulled a half-full bottle of cider from the inside. Popping the cork, she slid it between her legs and pressed it just under her sex.

Ideally, the host would have used more than just her urine to drug the bottle, but her brother was married to the Princess of Love. At this point, he’d probably have a better nose for pussy than any other stallion in the land, and that was something that he didn’t need to smell and get suspicious about. Better to give him a simple bottle of piss and hope that he got drunk enough not to notice what he was drinking.

The host pulled the bottle up under her sex, hovering right beside the opening of her urethra. The parasite’s control did what it always did; it flooded her sex with blood, forcing her to get puffy, which in turn made her urethra more prominent. A slight adjustment of the bottle’s position nudged it into place, covering the little hole, and the parasite started clenching down with the appropriate muscles further up her body.

In seconds, the heat started flowing down, and the soft hiss of her piss leaving her was masked inside of the bottle. Yellow cider mixed with transparent urine, and the liquid level rose quickly as the mare relieved herself.

The parasite could feel the host stirring. Not much, barely anything at all, but there was just a hint of the host left that was…interested. Not in stopping the parasite, but interested, as any student might have been, in what was going to happen next.

To the parasite, it seemed obvious. A drugged drink, a bit of a show, the influence of a mare that knew him better than he knew himself: all of those things should lead to the stallion getting dragged behind a tree and humping his sister hard, wanting more and more of what she had to offer. If it didn’t, then…well, Twilight-Drone had ways of making it work, regardless. It would end up going in her favor one way or another.

The flow continued for thirty seconds before the parasite cut it off. A momentary discomfort followed as Twilight-Drone was made to hold it, keeping anything else from coming out, and then the discomfort faded. She was allowed to rest a bit, but the rest of her bladder’s contents had to be reserved in case of an emergency. Just in case, just in case.

She popped the cork back on, tucked it into the basket, and forced that smile back on a tired face before coming around the tree again.

“Found it!”

“Heh, must have been a real game of hide and seek there.”

“Well, it was tucked away so nobody could take it.”

“Heh, trust you to make it trickier than it had to be. Come on. Let me have some of that.”

They tucked in, and Shining kept drinking from the bottle. Twilight-Drone only pretended to take some from it when he passed it to her, and he never seemed to notice.

It didn’t take long for his sheath to start visibly filling out. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care, but either way, he was clearly getting more and more riled up the more of the ‘cider’ that he drank. He groaned as he put it off to the side.

“I should eat something. Don’t want to head back to Cadance drunk.”

“Eat away.”

The food was not going to be much better for him. If it had been anyone else, Twilight-Drone might have used the food alone, but there was something about the difference between fresh-urine and baked-in infected urine. It wasn’t quite as potent, and it took more of it to build to a critical mass to get someone to that horny, unthinking state that she needed Shining Armor at. A combination was the best that she could manage.

He nibbled away, working through two pastries before slowing down and focusing on her again. He chuckled.

“Celestia’s going to be so proud of you, you know that?”

“Oh? W-why is that?” Twilight-Drone asked.

“You’re managing Ponyville all on your own. And now, you’ve worked to get someone else elected to take care of things for you. Do you know how long Celestia’s been looking for someone that can manage her side of things?”

“Wait, Celestia’s…is she trying to retire, or?”

“Well, I think that she’s hoping that you’ll mature a little more first, maybe give you a shot at the throne, but I think that she’s just hoping to take some more time away from taking care of everything. She wants someone that can manage Canterlot for her, someone that can take care of the non-magical things, all that.”

The Nest would love to hear that little development. Everypony in the Nest had been of the opinion that Celestia would be ruling forever, never stepping down, never allowing some mortal to take the place of Equestria’s immortal ruler. But if she was really looking for someone that would take some of the burden off of her, that opened up ways to get at her. And if Twilight could make a recommendation, that might get some of the more dangerous screening out of the way.

There were options there. A lot of options.

“What about Luna?” Twilight-Drone asked.

“Same deal,” Shining said, shaking his head. “Same luck, too. She wants to get someone that can take care of the guards, make sure that the army takes care of itself the way that I did while I was there, but she’s not found anyone worth a damn.”

“Shining!”

“Sorry, Twili. Guess the drink’s getting to me, eh?”

The host’s brother shook his head, putting the food down for a moment. He rolled his head one way, then the other grunting as he tried to make himself more comfortable. It didn’t seme to work very well; he just slumped forward before giving up.

“Eh, one afternoon won’t hurt.”

He went back to the bottle while Twilight-Drone considered the new information. There were ways into Canterlot that no-pony had imagined, but that still would require some extra planning. They needed a pony that would both stand up to investigation and be useful to the other princesses, and that was not going to be easy to find. Twilight-Drone would have to get in contact with Celestia and see what she was looking for, all while not being too obvious about it.

But it was a way in. It was something.

The afternoon continued at a slow pace with Twilight-Drone mining Shining for everything that the host could get out of him. As he got more and more drunk without even being aware of it, he was happy enough to spill the details.

The Crystal Empire was more or less flourishing, though the Crystal Ponies were sometimes more trouble than they were worth. They obeyed the regular ponies that came to live there, but they didn’t always mesh well. That could be useful for a smaller population ruling over a larger one, once Cadance went back with an infestation.

Cloudsdale was planning on going on a bit of a tour, trying out a series of new engines attached to the cloud that it was rooted on. It would give whoever lived there the chance to interact with a great many different settlements, meaning that the Wonderbolts would have back-up if they needed to do a group infestation once the cloudy city was brought down.

Good Changelings were being found all over the place, and they were making deals. They’d need to be taken care of.

The Crystal Empire had made contact with the Diamond Dogs in the caverns, and were slowly starting to work out a deal with them. If the Nest could likewise make contact and adapt to a life underground, that would give them the start of a nationwide communication network that would solve most of their problems.

More and more details that were only available to the royals came loose, dragged free by loose lips and the relationship of a prince-consort with his sister. In one long afternoon, Twilight-Drone had completely justified every bit of investment that the Nest had put into her. They had a hundred different avenues of expansion, and options in how to do it.

Over the course of their conversation, Shining Armor’s cock had completely dropped from his sheath. At some point he had tried to shift position to cover it, but he couldn’t move without slumping around. He didn’t seem to care about that, either, and when Twilight-Drone didn’t show any reaction to his cock, he stopped caring about trying to hide it.

The mare watched the level of the bottle, keeping an eye on it as it went down. When it was finally down to less than a mouthful, she let her smile fade. Shining Armor, intoxicated as he was, chuckled.

“Heh…heh, what’s…what’s wrong, Twili? Bad joke?”

“We are done.”

“Done? What’d I – hic – what’d I say, Twili?”

He was far enough gone that they didn’t need to hold back. Twilight-Drone allowed her host to drop any and all pretense as they clopped closer, each step mechanical, deliberate, timed perfectly with each other step. No longer that fake out-of-sync walking that they had been doing. It was perfectly efficient now, just as a drone should be.

Shining Armor must have realized that something was wrong, but his inebriated state kept him from doing a damn thing about it as Twilight sat on his face. He grunted under her, fumbling and struggling weakly, but nothing worked. He couldn’t get free, couldn’t shift her off his face, and all he managed to do was get his mouth right between her hind legs.

“Twili?! What are you – glk!”

He went quiet as soon as she managed to find her proper perch. Her legs spread just enough to open the tubing, and the parasite clenched down just as it had done before. The flow began once more, except this time there was nothing to muffle the hissing sound of her urine rushing down between her legs and into his open mouth.

The host’s brother fought, as any soldier would have done, but there was nothing that he could do against her. Not this drunk. Not pinned like this. She forced her sex against his tongue, holding it in place, and perhaps some little buried instinct of what he did with his wife worked against him then, because he licked her.

The parasite rewarded him, and as her juices flowed from her sex with her piss, he slowly lost himself, dropping further and further until he went completely limp. When he no longer struggled, when all he did was breathe and lick, Twilight-Drone stood up and trotted away to find the wagon. The basket wasn’t the only thing that she had hidden around here.

Shining Armor wasn’t sure what was going on. He felt floaty, his head twisting this way and that as he wobbled around. His entire sense of time and existence as a whole wasn’t really there anymore. He felt…

He felt almost like he used to when Chrysalis had been controlling his mind, working him further and further down into a state of utter relaxation. It had felt good, then. This felt even better.

He groaned as he felt something under him. Hard? Yes, but what? He tried to focus on details, pulling on every bit of his training to try and understand what was happening to him, but every time that he had even a hint of what was happening, it slipped away again. It was like the world had become slippery, and his thoughts even more so, and nothing stayed where he tried to put them.

Light.

Dark.

Voices?

No voices.

Nothing stayed consistent long enough for him to figure anything out, and whenever he was getting close, a rounded silhouette descended on his face, blocking out the light and feeding him more…more of something. Something sensual, sexual, something that kept his cock hard and made him feel even better than the hazy, floaty feeling did.

Cadance…

He thought of his wife when he could think of anything. He didn’t know what was happening with her, but he felt like he was with her when that thing settled on his face. The taste was like when he was between his wife’s hind legs and licking her pussy, teasing her and getting her ready for their fun.

Sometimes, he had the energy and willpower to lick the one that sat on him. He felt…good…it made him feel…good.

The slow passage through emptiness stopped, and the same floaty feeling returned. He was picked up and put down, this time touching the ground, and his cock throbbed between the soft earth and his belly.

“This host knows you want her.”

Twili?

“You have been tasting her regularly. You will have the chance to have her when you are being infested.”

Infested?

He didn’t understand, but he didn’t have a chance to get it explained. Once more, he was being floated and dragged along, his dick hanging down far enough that it dabbed the ground. It was oozing, leaking, dripping from the constant little touches of –

Twili…

That was his…his sister’s juices in his mouth? Her rump on his face during the journey? Was that what he had been feeling the whole time?

His head spun, guilt and arousal mixing in equal measure. He shouldn’t have done that, he should never have allowed it, but at the same time, the constant throbbing from between his hind legs kept him from thinking about it properly. He was hard as a rock, oozing more than he had ever done before, but –

Nothing made sense.

Everything was wrong.

And yet, his cock kept throbbing, his arousal taking charge even though he didn’t want it to. He tried to think clearly, tried to remind himself that Twilight was his sister, that Cadance was his wife, but –

Squelch. Her magic pulled him forward, his lips against her sex again. The taste, the smell, the unconscious lick –

And then he was in the barn. He didn’t know how time had passed that fast, but there he was, his hind legs wrapped in tendrils that were longer and stronger than the vines of the great jungles. Shining Armor stared straight ahead, looking at his sister’s rump as it swayed back and forth in front of him. Yet…

Yet, even that was wrong. The sway was too perfect, too mechanical, more like watching a perfectly weighted pendulum swing back and forth to keep time for a musician rather than seeing someone trying to seduce a partner. Something was wrong with his sister, but no matter how much he tried to free himself from the restraints, he couldn’t. His magic wouldn’t come when he called, his mind wouldn’t come up with any clever plans, and nothing mattered but her rump, his cock, and the strange, slippery feelings pressing against him from behind.

“This host is going to reward you.”

“Nnngh…Twili…this is…what is wrong…what’s wrong with – mmph!”

Again, she backed up against his face, and again, he was forced to silence. The tendrils sliding around under his legs and moving up against his rump started to fan him out, exposing his hole to them. He couldn’t think why they were doing that, but then again, he couldn’t think at all. Instead, he stared straight ahead as he was forced to eat out his own sister, his tongue moving mechanically against her sex until it could no longer move at all. Other tendrils kept him standing when his legs threatened to go out from under him, and when he was no longer able to keep licking –

Squelch.

He would have moaned or gasped or screamed at the feeling of something going up his ass before he married Cadance. As it stood, he just stared straight ahead, his body too tired, too drugged-up, for him to do anything. The only thing that moved was his cock, slapping against his belly as he stared past Twilight’s tail as she stepped forward. She swayed again – too perfectly, too well-done, stopping without a hint of resistance before swaying the other way – and yet, he couldn’t look away.

As that thing in his ass dug deeper, he could feel something…something else. A tingle, almost like when Chrysalis had looked into his eyes and fucked with his head. If this was some new changeling thing –

He stopped breathing for a moment as a shock went right up his spine. His cock jumped, shooting cum between his forelegs and spraying the floor with a layer of white. His mouth hung open at the intense, instant pleasure, unable to think clearly as his body was smashed with an orgasm more intense than anything that he had ever gotten from his wife.

Pulse.

Three more came in rapid succession, his eyes rolling back as his mind was assaulted with more and more pleasure. The heated fog that had come from eating his sister’s pussy kept him from shattering into a hundred useless pieces, but it also served as a means of melting him down. His thoughts, his resistance, his morals: all of them disappeared in one fell swoop, replaced with nothing but the burning pleasure of that thing against his prostate, and the pleasure that came from each orgasm that it forced from him.

It was so intense that he barely noticed his sister pushing under him. She was still just small enough that she could fit under his chest and stomach, and as she backed up, the feathers of her wings tickling his stomach, he felt her holes against his cock.

If there had been anything left of the moral, upright knight of the ponies, he would have begged her to stop. If there had been anything of the big brother looking after his little sister left in his head, he would have screamed at her to get away.

There was neither. There was only the need for pleasure, a need that was getting worse and worse with each passing moment.

There were no words from him. Words required thoughts, and every passing orgasm milked more of those thoughts from him. Gibberish escaped his lips as he weakly rolled his hips against her, his cock sliding from her pussy to her ass and then back down again. He wanted in, he needed in, no matter the fact that it was his little sister. It was sex, and she was right there, and he needed her.

Thrust.

POP!

He froze as his tip slipped into her other hole, her rim spreading around his shaft and allowing him in. Shining wasn’t even sure that he let out a moan of pleasure; he might have been completely silent.

His hips tried and failed to hunch and thrust; he was completely paralyzed, unable to move. Instead, he had to settle for her rolling her inner walls along his cock, teasing it, milking it, keeping him right on the edge.

It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the same. He needed more. Shining tried to push forward, and when that didn’t work, he tried to push back. The thing in his ass had given him so much pleasure already; if it would just give him a little bit more, he could cum again. It was so good, just a little, please, just a bit more, a little more, one more, and he’d be –

Bzzt.

It shocked him harder than ever as something came out of the tendril. His eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open as his cock started not just shooting, but all but pissing cum from its head. His sister’s ass was so tight around him, his cock so sensitive, and…and…

And he couldn’t move.

Not just restrained, but literally paralyzed, Shining could only stare straight ahead as he felt the pleasure grow. It was impossible to describe it, like his orgasm had been forced to continue, spreading out from his cock to every part of his body, and the pleasure exploded over and over and over again, like the orgasm was never-ending.

Pulse.

Shining surrendered to the pleasure, unable to think, unable to stop himself. There was a sense of something, some hint of…of knowingness at the back of his head, and then it was gone, replaced by pleasure that washed him under, leaving nothing but the constant pulsing of something else taking over for him to think about.

Chapter 22

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“Oh good, you’re safe,” Cadance said, all but charging at Shining-Drone as soon as he entered the room. “What kept you?”

Conditioning by the Nest. Infestation. Learning. Planning. Preparing to bring you into the fold.

“Just had a long day with Twilight, that’s all,” Shining-Drone lied, the parasite already ready with its script. “She wanted to talk, and I knew that you’d be busy with that patrol of yours, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You still don’t think there’s something wrong here, darling?”

“My sister lives here. She’d tell us if there was anything wrong.”

“Twilight is…very skilled, but she’s also very young. What if she gets it wrong? What if Sombra is still out there, waiting to take his revenge?”

“Dear…”

Shining-Drone leaned in. There was so much love in the host’s memory, so much intense affection that it was easy to fake it. All they had to do was lean close, horn to horn, and there was a comfort that spread from them to the Princess.

Too much comfort, however. Cadance was…disturbing in the way that her presence affected the host. Something passed from her to the depths of the controlled mind, and there was something that echoed it, craving that affection and warmth that the mare put off just by being there. It disturbed the parasite, and it spent the bare minimum of time against the princess to keep up their façade.

“It’s going to be fine. I mean, remember what happened between me and Chrysalis?”

“I do…”

“But I didn’t start seeing Changeling plots everywhere, did I?”

“Heh…not after the first few months.”

“Well, that’s true, but how long has it been now?”

“…Years…”

“If Sombra was going to come back, then we’d have seen something by now. And what do we have for proof that there’s anything out here? Ponies acting strangely? A little less themselves? That happens when an election comes around; everyone starts to act differently because they’re a little worried about what’s going to happen next.”

“Heh, since when is the prince-consort of a princess such an expert in elections?”

“Well, you made me an expert in erections; it’s only one letter off.”

Cadance sputtered with suppressed giggles, and Shining-Drone chuckled as he walked around her. He pressed his flank against her side, and his cock started to drop. Best not to waste time.

“Mmm, why don’t we go to bed, hmm? I think that you and I –”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Shining-Drone blinked. Of all the memories that the parasite had from its host, there was none that implied that Cadance would refuse sex from her husband. That had never happened between them, not once, and the sheer strangeness of the moment brought Shining-Drone up short. His mouth worked silently, trying to find something to say, before he slowly closed it.

“If you say so.”

“I do, dear. Come. We’ll sleep.”

She nudged him to bed, and the host went along. The brief idea of trying to have sex with her in her sleep and fill her with drugged seed was entertained, then dismissed. If Shining-Drone failed, then he didn’t have the strength to force it. More to the point, the uncomfortable aura of Cadance’s power gave the parasite something that it had never felt before, and hoped to never feel again:

Guilt.

The next day brought sunlight and good cheer, at least for the morning. The attempt to seduce the mare into staying in bed for a bit of fun didn’t go anywhere; Cadance was too focused on finding the source of the problems outside town. She was utterly convinced something was happening, and she wouldn’t rest in bed until she had found out what the hell it was. Shining-Drone didn’t push it as hard as the Nest likely would have wanted; the host was already weakening slightly, and it wanted to reinforce the connection via the Nest before it took further action.

Cadance, as far as the Nest could track, spent her time wandering the edges of town, heading down to the forest, and trying to find Zecora. The drones that watched her had a hard time keeping track of her, because they had to keep their distance and make sure that they didn’t get affected by the same aura as Shining-Drone had.

Shining-Drone, on the other hand, spent most of the day connected to the main Nest at the bottom of the library, his ass planted firmly against the roots as the connection between the Nest and his parasite buzzed away. The slime that oozed from him made a puddle in short order, while some of the other hosts trotted around, wiping drool from his face and occasionally pushing water past his lips. A set of caretakers had emerged for those that spent hours connected to the Nest, ensuring that they were in good shape when they had to leave.

He was barely aware of them. The host’s pleasure continued to rise and rise and rise, never ceasing, never going down. The feeling of love was blasted from his mind, erased with the sheer intensity of the pleasure of the Nest. There was no need to love or feel guilt when there was nothing but pleasure to be found.

And at the same time, he was aware of something else that the Nest felt as it touched on the memories of the parasite. It felt…threatened.

The communal memory of the Nest was filled with many things. The experiences of hundreds of ponies and hosts were mingled there, washed together but with just enough details to give any host what they needed. Among that were the decisions of the Nest in the past, and all the plans that it had.

And through all that, there was never any sense of the Nest being threatened. Concerned, yes, and there were other moments where a vague sense of alarm had spread through the great consciousness of the strange plant, but threatened was…new. No pony, no matter how powerful, had ever managed to crack the control that the Nest had over its hosts before, and if Cadance could do it, there was a chance that she could spread the technique of how to do it to other ponies. She had to be stopped before she had the chance to start telling them the weaknesses of the Nest proper.

Shining-Drone had the guilt drained from him, and by the time that he disconnected from the Nest, he was a proper host again, filled with the drive of a fresh parasite that had no reason to feel guilt for what it did.

He left the library and trotted to the woods. Cadance was just emerging from them, looking vaguely distraught, and the host assumed a sympathetic look.

“No luck?”

“Nothing to be found,” Cadance said, shaking her head. “I was hoping that the witch would still be at her hut, but she’s long gone.”

Which was a pity. Zecora would have been one more valuable host, but as long as she hadn’t uncovered the truth, there was no problem with her disappearing. They would find her again, soon enough. The Nest would spread.

“Ah, well. Could be worse.”

“She could be…”

“I doubt that anyone that strong is in danger, dear. Come on. You have no faith in anyone anymore, it seems.”

“I just…”

“You’re afraid. That’s fine, but fear’s not something that you can let rule you. You have to believe that it’s possible to win, or you’ve lost before it starts.”

“…I know, dear. I know.”

She rested her head against his neck again, and the host smiled as he nudged her back. That same power that he’d felt that morning was still there, still pushing at him, trying to make him feel guilty for his plans. There was such a sense of love and power and devotion from her that it tugged at heartstrings that should have been cut long ago. Shining-Drone didn’t feel the same guilt at the same intensity as he had when the parasite decided not to fuck and drug the princess in her sleep, but something was still there. Something that most certainly should not have been.

“You have been working too hard. Come on. Let’s go back to the inn and…relax. You and I can distract each other from all this. You know that you need it. Come on. Let’s just…take some private time together.”

“Heh, you’ve always been so amorous, my darling. Always so eager to please me since our wedding. And that’s just one of the many things that I adore about you, my devoted, darling Shining. Heh…I can still remember how Chrysalis almost took you away from me, and how much I cried when you came back to me. Do you remember that?”

“I do. I couldn’t believe how long I’d been under her spell, but there was nothing like you. Nothing has ever been like you, before or after.”

She smiled, nuzzling into his neck again. It was warm, soft, and if it hadn’t been for the deep syncing with the Nest, he would have felt something again. As it was, the parasite had to fight to keep the affection at bay and keep focused on the mission. It was one more sign of just how dangerous Cadance was to the Nest.

“Shall we, then?” Shining Armor said.

“Not yet. I have more that I need to do, but I’ll see you at the inn later.”

“Heh…I hope you find what you’re looking for, dear. It’s strange to have to keep waiting this long. I forgot how much normal stallions have to hold back.”

“Heh, I promise. I’ll make it up to you when all’s said and done.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Three days came and went. Ponyville officially instated Dapper-Drone as their new mayor, and Mayor Mare retired to her dwelling. She was connected almost twenty-four hours a day to the Nests, giving them advice and knowledge from a long-term political powerhouse on what would work and what others in the nation would do if they were approached by Dapper-Drone in different ways. Combined with the knowledge of Dapper-Drone with his travels and her political suss, as well as what Twilight-Drone had been able to weasel out of Shining-Drone, the plans for conquest across Equestria were slowly being drawn up. The battle plans for the Nest to take every pony as a host were almost complete.

Yet, there was still the snag of Cadance. The princess continued to wander through Ponyville, never quite interfering in something directly, but spreading her aura and her eye through the place. The new infestations were slowed to a crawl, making the Nest more and more irritated at the delays, and most of all, irritated with Shining-Drone.

He remained at the inn again, staring out the open door of the bathroom at the rest of the room. No way was the Nest going to be caught with someone seeing it in mid-conversation with a host again.

This should be done. The Nest was very clear on that point. The infestation of Cadance should have been done days ago. At the very least, she should have been drugged to the gills and been used at least a few times. The Princess of Love was meant to be a slut, a whore, something that was constantly fucking and getting fucked. So why hadn’t Shining-Drone at least used her once?

It all came in a rush of images and the closest thing to anger that the Nest could feel, and the host would have buckled under it if it wasn’t for the parasite keeping it stock-still and listening to the berating comments from the tendril in its hole. The host’s shaft twitched, pre-cum rolling down into a waiting bottle between its hind legs in hopes of being used at a later date. The parasite within took every question, but had no answer.

The Nest commanded. It would be done tonight.

The tendril pulsed, and the host gave the slightest of twitches. Its cock, hanging low, spurted with more pre-cum as the forced pleasure of connection forced more and more cum from its balls. Pulse, throb. Pulse, throb. Pulse, throb.

It was not a plan. It was not a suggestion. It was a direct command. The Nest was overriding the parasite’s individual ability to do anything. It was forcing an action at a specific time. The parasite and Shining-Drone would take the Princess of Love tonight. They would have sex, and they would have back-up to make sure that the rut went properly.

The rape.

It was the faintest of responses, and yet, it was still more than Shining-Drone should have been able to think or feel. The Nest was aghast, shocked beyond measure that something could penetrate that deep. It was more than mere emotion; this was what the power of the Princess of Love could do. It was able to instill a devotion that was nearly as strong as the Nest’s own, and more than that, could wake it again. If she ever understood the power that she had, if she ever brought it to bear against the Nest hosts…

The utter empty expression on Shining-Drone’s face shattered. The parasite itself was almost obliterated with the sheer force of will that ran up the host’s spine, the pleasure that followed breaking down anything that was left. Those tiny little flowers trying to grow through the Nest’s gravel in his head were ripped out, and then the flames of pleasure burned the surface, trying to scorch down to destroy everything that was left behind.

There was no love.

There was no guilt.

There was no shame.

There was only devotion to the Nest, and that devotion would be obeyed. Shining-Drone would accomplish this mission, or there would be consequences.

For the first time for any drone under the Nest, the pleasure turned to pain. There was so much of it that the parasite’s control wavered, and the stallion crumbled, falling to one knee. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare straight ahead as his body was ravaged from head to hoof. He came, he came, and came again, unable to stop as the pleasure ravaged him and the Nest warped him.

Finally, it came to an end, and the tendril withdrew from his ass. He couldn’t immediately get up; the parasite was rebooting itself as much as he was. Instead, they just stared straight ahead, their purpose burned into them.

Rape Cadance.

Break Cadance.

Turn Cadance.

Infest Cadance.

There was no wiggle room. Tonight, when they were together again, there would be no further resistance on his part. No more flirting, no more attempts at drugging that went nowhere. He would mount her, he would fuck her, and he would show her where she belonged. She would be part of the Nest.

And back-up would be there to make it happen.

Cadance invited him to take a moonlit walk with her along the river that ran beside Ponyville. He knew for a fact that it would take her to the picnic spot where he and Twilight-Drone had been together, when he had been drugged and turned. A perfect place for her to get the same treatment, considering the privacy that the location offered. He accepted and joined her, meeting her just outside town.

As they clopped along, he was aware of another drone following them. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that it was Twilight-Drone, the host’s sister. Her power, combined with his strength, should be sufficient to take Cadance down before she could use her powers to stop them. She was unaware of the danger she was in, and that would give them the edge.

The walk was quiet. He expected the host’s wife to have some sort of conversation, something that she wanted to talk about, but there was nothing that came up. She would instead just lean against him, and the power of her aura would crackle through him.

Resist. Resist. Resist.

The power of the Nest promised pain and pleasure alike. If he fell, he would be broken in, the parasite in him replaced with a new one that could do the job. If he succeeded, he would be given pleasure beyond his wildest dreams, and the host was able to be distracted with that. Not much, but enough.

It didn’t take long to reach the picnic spot, and Cadance stopped, looking down at the water. She wasn’t looking at him, either trusting him or not thinking. Shining-Drone’s parasite started pushing their shaft free of their sheath, the flared head already swelling in anticipation. They were going to do it. They were going to do it.

It was just starting to rise up, the head kissing their belly, when Cadance turned around and looked him right in the eye.

“Are you going to betray me now?” she asked.

“…”

“I know what happened,” the Princess of Love said, shaking her head. “I found one of the other hosts in the forest this morning. It was wandering around, following me, and…and it tried to attack me. I stopped it, but when I tried to get information, it fought me. It tried to pretend that it was normal, that nothing was wrong, and then…”

Shining-Drone was caught in the story, but he could see Twilight-Drone slowly edging around the tree, the other host scooting closer and closer. No sign of her magic just yet, but it was only a matter of time.

“I used my power on him. He screamed, and apologized, feeling as guilty as I’ve ever seen any pony feel. He would have killed himself, I think, if he wasn’t trying to apologize for what he tried to do. He told me everything. Everything. The parasites, the Nest…you…”

So, it had happened. One of them had broken under her power. What else had happened, then? Shining-Drone said nothing as the host’s wife turned to face him properly, her horn glowing as tears ran down her face.

“I tried to help him. Do you know what happened when I did?”

“…What?” he asked, his face losing its smile. There was no point in hiding anything any longer.

“He went into a coma. I tried to encourage him, to give him love, to heal him from his pain and his guilt, but as soon as I eased it enough, the stallion passed out. And he wouldn’t wake up.”

The parasite in him had a guess as to why. Each host had most of their emotions completely muted, pushed down, all but extinguished save for shadowy memories that they existed in the first place. That was what the parasites used to ensure that they were acting correctly with each non-infested pony; without that knowledge of emotion, they would never be able to keep up their acts.

But to have it all come rushing back, and worse, at a greater strength? No host would be ready for that. The feelings alone would be enough to knock them out from how strong they were and how unused to them the host had become, but to feel the guilt and shame that the parasite had felt when it held back from rutting Cadance in the past – and to feel it without filter – would be enough to break anypony.

“If that’s what’s happened to you, Shining, I…I will find a way to fix you. I will find a way to drag you back out from under the parasites. But you…you didn’t try and hurt me. You didn’t do anything to me. If there’s anything left of you in there –”

“There is.”

Cadance gasped, her eyes lighting up for a minute. Just for a moment, she seemed to have hope once more.

“The part of him that is still alive in this host is the part that wishes to see you join us. He has been promised pleasure. It is a substitute for love.”

“…Nothing is a substitute for love.”

“It is sufficient.”

“Do you really believe that? Do any of you believe that, in that Nest of yours?”

A few days ago, the parasite would have questioned itself at that. Being exposed to someone of pure love, being made to feel it, to experience it, had given the parasite more questions, more things to wonder about. A large part of it had wanted to know what it would be like to feel love rather than anything else that the Nest could give it.

That part had been extinguished in the great purging that afternoon. There would be no mercy.

“There is nothing we need beyond the Nest, and hosts for it. You will become part of it, too.”

“Shining –”

“Do not resist. The pleasure will make you forget soon enough. Let it happen, and the Nest will welcome you.”

He stepped forward, and Cadance stepped back. She wouldn’t just accept it, which meant that she would have to be forced. A pity, but the host did not fight the parasite as they both moved to follow orders.

Twilight-Drone joined them, and Cadance whipped her head to the side. She sighed.

“You, too?”

“This host is waiting to bring you in. It is tired of waiting.”

“I had hoped…but no, you would have just…given in. You were too curious for your own good, Twilight.”

The Princess of Love looked between them, her horn glowing. Shining-Drone didn’t bother with his, and Twilight-Drone already had her own glowing a deep purple. There was no word said between the hosts, and Cadance just shook her head.

“I will do what I must. My darlings…I will save you.”

The light of her horn suddenly surged, and Shining was knocked back with a searing light that had no equal. He had no idea what happened to Twilight, but he fell backward, onto his side…and screamed.

Love.

Guilt.

Shame.

Feelings.

Everything that the parasite and the Nest had suppressed hit him all at once, and the only thing that kept him from completely breaking right then and there was the fact that he had only been a host for a few days. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his forehooves pressed against the side of his head. His parasite felt like it was breaking apart, the feelings and emotions rushing up from his chest so painful, so sharp, so powerful that they couldn’t be managed en masse. It was too much, too much!

The white stallion rolled onto his side, still screaming as his guts twisted up inside of him. He rolled to the river, heaving as everything came up at once. The horror of what he had been about to do struck him, and everything that rested in his stomach came up in a rush, flooding out of him and into the river. He kept puking for nearly a minute before there was nothing left to come up, and dry-heaved for a minute more.

No, no, no, I…we…I…we…

Shining-Drone and Shining Armor were the same thing. He was aware of the parasite, and the parasite was aware of him in a way that it had never been before. Suppression was not the same as knowing; reading was not the same as experiencing. They were forced to see each other in a completely different light, and neither could feel right about it.

And there was so much more of it. The horrors of everything, the intensity of a world that was too bright, vibrant, and wonderful to be lived in, the depravity of what the Nest was making them do, was too much for an emotional mind, particularly one so deadened as his had been, to feel. He was sliding away, about to faint –

Then the light disappeared.

The emotions were still there, but the presence of Twilight-Drone’s power was sufficient to get rid of the glow that made everything so much stronger. Shining-Drone slowly asserted itself over the first feeling – the guilt – and worked from there, slowly dragging it back down to a level that wouldn’t drive the host insane.

Guilt.

Shame.

Fear.

Those were handled quickly enough, and from there, it moved on to the other emotions. Love and devotion were too hot, too bright to completely suppress, so the parasite worked on reminding the host where that sort of hot loyalty belonged. Its wife didn’t need that, not after hurting it. The Nest was the one that would save it, protect it, keep it from feeling anything that intense ever again.

Never again.

Shining-Drone could not face feeling anything like that ever again, and took that offer. The host sunk deeper beneath the control of the parasite than ever before, quailing away from the reality of the world. Almost like a coward – no, precisely like a coward – the stallion slipped back into the oblivion that being a host offered. No more would he feel things of that intensity, and the parasite itself was grateful; it could not survive another blast of power like that.

Bit by bit, the white-furred stallion was able to get his hooves under him. The host turned to the shaky Twillight-Drone, breathing slowly.

“That was…impossible.”

“No, merely unique,” Twilight-Drone said. “This host has understood how the magic works. Only Cadance has the skills to do something like that.”

“Then the danger lies solely in her.”

“Yes. This host believes that, if she were removed, there would never be another pony that would be able to rise to that level.”

“We do not infest?”

“We must try. If we fail…The Nest will forgo this one, if required, but it will have us make the attempt.”

It was a decision that they were having to make on their own. With the Nest so far away, there was no chance to actually confer with it. Shining-Drone considered what it had in its own memory and what it knew of Cadance, and –

“She will go for the Nest,” Shining-Drone said.

“Your host is sure?”

“This host is reasonably sure. It knows her compassion; it will lend her bravery.”

“Does she know?”

“She gained a confession from a broken drone. She will know at least one.”

“Which drone?”

“She did not say.”

The hosts went still, the parasites considering. With that knowledge, there were three possibilities.

Sweet Apple Acres could be written out almost immediately. While there were some high-profile ponies that had been taken there for an overnight conversion, they were rare, and that growing sapling was mostly used by the Apple family. The broken drone would not have been able to tell her about that one, as it had yet to reach the sewer lines and link up with the other two major Nests.

Which meant that she would be going either for the library Nest, or the hospital Nest.

“This host believes you would be best to go to the library,” Shining-Drone said.

“This host is curious as to why. Surely the hospital is more vulnerable?”

“This host is aware of the defenses at the hospital. More drones live in the building. It is saturated with the spores now, affecting even the ‘free’ ponies. There are roots in the building that can attack from hidden places with greater ease. Your host is the greatest defense that the library Nest has, and it is more isolated.”

“…”

“We go.”

Shining-Drone and Twilight-Drone split up, the latter running for the center of Ponyville while the former rushed for the hospital. The parasite had already decided to make two stops along the way, both of which would make contact with each Nest. The first would involve stopping at the old campaign quarters for Dapper-Drone to make contact with the main Nest at the library, giving it the notice that an attack was coming, while the latter would be a quick stop at the Cakes to let the hospital Nest know that it might become a target.

From there, decisions could be made. If it were up to him, Shining-Drone would evacuate the city, and he imagined that Mare-Drone would feel the same way. The first thing that one did was ensure that the witnesses and potential victims of any fallout weren’t in the way. They would want to make sure that they could spin whatever story they wanted when this was all said and done, and that would be easier if they didn’t have conflicting reports.

They had time, though. If the host knew one thing about its wife, it was that Cadance was too compassionate for her own good. She had the determination to do powerful things, and she was proving that now, but she would want to take her time, avoid confrontation as she made her way to her target. That would mean being slow, being quiet, taking to the air where she could and sneaking when she could not. That would keep her from reaching either Nest before he or Twilight-Drone could make preparations.

Shining-Drone only hoped that the Nests would take the report seriously. Considering the orders from the main Nest that morning and how angry it had been, the parasite hoped – as much as any parasite could hope – that meant there was enough fear to hear the truth. If not, then they were in trouble.

A lot of trouble.

The host ran faster, rushing toward the edge of town. It didn’t take long to find the mostly-abandoned house that had been the center of Dapper-Drone’s campaign, and Shining-Drone kicked down the door to the bathroom. He turned around, pushed back, and wiggled the toilet handle several times, sending the usual password of access down the drain to the waiting tendrils.

There was a delay. It was only a slight one, a few seconds at most, but it was enough to make the parasite feel that sense of fear and urgency again.

It was not just the fact that the loss of a Nest would set them back immensely in their plans. It was the fact that a loss of a Nest risked losing massive amounts of information, and more than that, possibly rendering some of the hosts in danger. The connection and syncing rejuvenated the parasites inside them, giving them more energy, refreshing them, almost like the way that the hosts needed sleep to be at their peak capacity.

If they lost that, if they lost the ability to sync, what would happen to them? Would they be able to recover?

Shining-Drone didn’t know, and it didn’t particularly care to find out. When the tendrils came, nudging against his hole, he pushed back hard. The syncing began, and the parasite within forced the details of the recent confrontation right back down. There was no time for protocol; they had to download this information now.

Chapter 23

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Cadance knew that if she was caught, she would end up no different to her husband or Twilight Sparkle. Whatever this Nest was, it would take her, convert her, and break her. There would be no getting free. She had only one shot to change things, and only one hope to save her husband and her friend.

The alicorn Princess of Love flew low over Ponyville, all too aware that her wings could catch the light of the moon and show her off to those below. She had no way of knowing who was a host and who was a free pony, but until she got to the Nest and dealt with it, she’d have to treat all of them as potential enemies.

The thought of so many ponies being nothing but extensions of some alien creature was more horrifying than she could have ever imagined. It had been bad enough finding the one host and forcing it to expose itself and explain what had happened, but to see her sister-in-law, and worse, her husband…Cadance could still barely believe it, her head spinning and her eyes watering.

She was forced to land on the rooftop of one of the businesses near the center of town. The alicorn rubbed her forehead just below her horn with a forehoof, her breath coming quietly and with great pain. Here she was, barely holding herself together, when –

Shining…oh, Shining…

He had been ready to hurt her. He was no longer her husband, and she had to treat him now the way that she had treated him while he was under Chrysalis’s control. No more deep affection, no more fear. She had to ignore him and focus on the enemy that she could fight. Not him, but the one that would take him away from her.

She lifted her head to face the great tree that loomed over Ponyville. Twilight had been the caretaker of the great library tree for years, so she supposed it wasn’t that much of a surprise that she would have brought the Nest here. The host would have wanted something special to link it to, she imagined. Somewhere safe, somewhere that could easily be protected compared to the rest of the town. You could see things for miles from the top of the tree, and the whole town itself was in view.

If nothing else, the Nest would be able to see who was coming from miles away, including her. While she could hide from the individual hosts, she couldn’t hide from the tree itself.

I don’t even know if this will work…

But what other choice did she have? Her magic had, at the very least, caused the parasites to lose their total control on their hosts, and that was enough to give her hope that her love-magic could at least affect the Nest itself. It might not be able to kill it, but it might be enough to force it to give up and pull back a bit. Emotion was, after all, a powerful force, and the power of Love even more so.

She shuffled her hooves back and forth, trying to get her courage up for the last push. She had to do this. The only other Princesses that might have a chance were Luna and Celestia, and she didn’t have time to go and get them. If she left now –

If I left now…if I went for reinforcements…then Ponyville is lost.

And with them her husband, the Elements of Harmony, and so much that mattered in to Equestria. Without them, the power of Canterlot would be massively diminished, and there was no guarantee that the three princesses would be strong enough to break the Nest on their own. And without allies – and they didn’t have many – the Nest would spread further and further, getting stronger as it went.

She had to do this. Tonight. If she didn’t –

A sudden clatter startled her. Cadance looked over the edge of the building, watching as ponies were pulled from their homes. Her ears flicked to try and catch what the ponies alerting everyone were saying –

“Come on, come on. There’s a leak. Everyone needs to get out while Twilight takes care of things. The library’s got something wrong with it, and it’s spreading. Come on, come on.”

They were clearing the town. There was nothing wrong with the tree that she could see from outside, which meant –

The mayor’s in on this, too…

Which meant that the Nest’s power had spread further through town than she’d thought, and that, in turn, meant that she’d helped install one of its members as the new ruler of town. Cadance groaned, hanging her head. The Nest truly was working faster than she could have imagined.

With the thought that Chrysalis could have taken lessons from this strange creature, Cadance put the fleeing ponies out of her mind. If it came down to it, this was a good thing. There was less chance of her hurting someone by accident, or the Nest doing the same thing. She should be grateful that they were clearing –

Her only warning was a soft click from down below. Cadance flicked her wings out and flapped herself into the air, only just avoiding a clear stream of something from below. It lifted, chasing her, and she flapped her wings harder, throwing herself through the air just ahead of the stream of white foam.

It came from an open window in the building she’d been standing on, and she could just barely see a blue-furred pony in the window, keeping the hose trained on her, following her. Whatever it was, she didn’t dare let it touch her.

Cadance’s horn glowed brightly, and she directed a strong white light right at the blue pony in the window. She heard the scream that preceded the mare’s fall, knowing that the parasite inside of her was struggling to take control again, and she flew further off. Already, she could see silent movement in the houses around the library, different pony-hosts in different trees trying to keep their eyes on her in the dark.

Whatever that was…

Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind. It hadn’t hit her, but whatever it was, it would have been a problem. That much she could be sure of. And from here on, she’d have to make sure that she wasn’t hit by anything. Whatever the Nest could throw at her, it would, and whatever it used would be something that would make it easier for the Nest to infest her. That was all that she needed to know.

The alicorn flew higher and higher, looking around the tree top. She found several other hosts staring down at her, and as she flew over them, she let loose with one blast of magic after another. They never moved out of the way, and it wasn’t until the last one went down that she understood why.

One of the hosts fell over sideways, and Cadance finally saw the roots that were rammed up their assholes. The Nest pulled the last one back into the cover of the leaves and branches as Cadance landed on top of the tree, abandoning the spasming, shaking hosts. The alicorn shook her head as she looked down at the pegasi and earth ponies that had been stationed on top of the tree, and she could only imagine what the Nest had done to them to make simple love and kindness feel so painful.

Whatever it had done, it had involved violating them. All four watchers had their assholes gaped, their anuses stretched wide, and most of them were oozing something clear and slimy from inside. She could only imagine what their bodies had gone through under the ministrations of the Nest, and sighed.

It had a lot to answer for.

But now, at least, she had a clear area to work in. With the watchers dealt with, the Nest no longer had eyes in the sky. She was the best flyer in town, even better than Twilight, and there was no way that they would know what direction she was coming from.

They’ll have eyes on the front door. That means I’ll have to try something else.

Once, she might have tried fitting in through the windows down below, but her hips had grown, and so had she. She was a much bigger mare than she used to be, nearly Celestia’s size, and she would get stuck trying something so silly.

So, instead, she lowered her head to the tree top and started burning her way through. Pinpoint light strikes burned through leaves here and there, cutting through branches, and soon, she had a hole that was large enough for her to fall through. She could just barely see the bookshelves far below, and she wiggled her way through and dropped down.

As she flicked her wings out at the last second, she knew she’d made the right decision. Four hosts were staring at the door, each one armed with some sort of hose or thrower filled with some sort of liquid. Just like with the hose at the other building, she didn’t know what they’d do, but she knew that she didn’t want to get caught in it.

She moved quietly, each step careful and silent on the top of the bookshelves, until she was looking down at them. Cadance lowered her horn, and – after taking her time to build up her power in a more quiet, dim manner – let loose four quick bolts of light.

The hosts went down, wheezing and screaming. It was almost as bad as being seen, but as long as she could move –

“Nnngh…”

The first attempt at taking off almost sent her falling from the shelves. Cadance had to force her wings up and down harder, faster than usual, and it took far more energy to get airborne once more. The alicorn gritted her teeth, silencing the little grunts that came with the sheer effort. Her wings burned as she more threw herself through the air rather than flying, managing to make it a half-dozen rows before she had to come back down again.

Costing me there…costing me a lot…

Each time she cast her power, she had to focus a lot of her energy and love for others into the spell. The spell itself took that energy, as well as more of her stamina, and that cost her in terms of just how many times she could use it. Already, she could feel her energy draining, her ability to stay on her hooves fading little by little. Flight was already almost out of the question, and fighting all the hosts in the library meant that she’d have nothing left by the time that she got to the Nest at the center.

She’d have to take it slow and quiet. Anypony left at the end of the night would have to be dealt with individually; she’d just have to hope that taking down the Nest itself would free more of them than not.

Thus decided, Cadance hopped down, flaring her wings to glide down to the ground level. She immediately felt more vulnerable, as if she could be attacked from any direction without warning. The tall shelves, once so comforting in the past years, were just as much her enemy as any host that was using them to hide.

It’s at the middle. It has to be at the middle of the library.

She set off, her head down and her eyes peeled. The Nest had to know she was here, now. The hosts that were screaming at the front of the library had gone quiet, which meant that the other hosts in the building had already found them. They’d hunt her down soon enough, and if there were other eyes inside –

An earth pony lunged for her. He managed to grab one of her hind legs, his hips thrusting forward as he dragged her back. A quick kick caught him in the balls, but it didn’t knock him down. He kept pulling her back, his face as empty as Shining Armor’s had been, and it wasn’t until she slammed him against the nearest shelf that he stopped. His cock pulsed, throbbing, twitching, and she could feel it shooting slimy strings against her hind legs.

“Nngh!”

She brought her head down on his, a quick smack that knocked him out and left her ears ringing. She wasn’t so used to fighting with her body; without her magic, she was at a massive disadvantage.

And there was still so much more library to get through…

Cadance pushed forward. Every intersection was a potential ambush; every turn in the aisles had become a deadly choice. Half the time, there was nothing, but her heart was in her throat every time, waiting to see whether she would be doomed or if she would find something to save her.

She never did. It was either empty, giving her a few more moments respite, or there was at least one host waiting for her, trying to catch her off-guard. They had all kinds of tricks waiting, ranging from rutting thrusts to balloons filled with…something or other, and they were always trying to get something in her mouth. It was never quite accurate, and she was ready to dodge every time, but by the time that she reached the end of the stacks, she was completely soaked from head to tail, and all the way down to her hooves.

She heaved, panting, gasping, covered in heated goo and water. At least, she hoped it was water; she wasn’t sure what it was, but it didn’t have much of a scent compared to the slimy. That…that, she knew what it was, and it sent shivers down her spine.

As she stepped out of the stacks, her legs shaking, a purple light grew to greet her. She lifted her head to see Twilight standing between her and the basement door, and her old friend was completely blank-faced.

“How did you get here before me?” Cadance asked.

“This host is skilled with magic. She has the ability to teleport.”

“…You always were clever, Twilight. I wish that you could see what you have become.”

“She has seen. This host no longer cares.”

“Even after all the love I reminded you of?”

“There is no love that is greater than the pleasure of the Nest.”

She didn’t even know if Twilight meant that, if it was a statement of the Nest itself, or if there was some combination of the two going on. In the end, she supposed that it didn’t matter. She gritted her teeth, shuffling her hooves as she shook off some of the slime. She was so close now; she couldn’t be pushed away.

“Step aside.”

“No.”

“Get out of the way, or –”

“This host is precious to you, but she knows you well. She knows how much power you have, and she knows that she can’t quite stop you.”

“…”

“But she also knows that you do not have the power to take her down, and try and remove the Nest. You will have to make a choice.”

“…You…you…”

“What will it be?” Twilight asked, and for a split-second, Cadance saw the edge of what her old friend could have been: a lovely, thoughtful mare that had figured out a horrifying puzzle, pleased but quiet. “Will you save this host, or will you try and destroy the Nest?”

The worst part was, Twilight was right. She could feel just how tired she was. She had used up too much taking out some of the other hosts around the tree, and the brief confrontation at the front door had been stupid. She should have pushed deeper, not stuck around and secured a way out. Now –

It could be a lie.

There was no reason for the Nest to tell her the truth. It was fighting back now, trying to take her down, and so far, she had managed to resist all the different hosts that had been sent against her. Twilight was the only one with magic that had a chance, and the Nest was right about one thing: Twilight didn’t have the power to stop her if she tried to break through the other alicorn’s shields.

But if she did…

She looked at the tree trunk behind Twilight. Now that she had the chance, she could see the twisting, thorny roots of the Nest stabbing into the trunk of the library tree. It was a parasite, something that was already feeding off the larger plant around it. Left to its own devices, it would consume everything that came near it, slowly growing at the cost of everything around it.

A better metaphor for what the Nest did to the ponies, she could not imagine. It was only going to grow larger, more powerful, and leave others in the same state that Twilight herself was in. Cadance shook her head.

“You will leave this host in our grip?” Twilight asked.

“Even if I tried to save her now, I don’t know that I could. The most that I could do is what I did to the others. But this thing…”

Cadance narrowed her eyes, fixing her stare on the lines of black roots running up the white tree. She focused all the power that she had left into her horn, bringing it to a blazing light. All the other hosts would know where she was now, and she doubted that she’d get out of this unscathed. But she had to try.

She was the Princess of Love, and at that moment, she was filled with the love for her country, her subjects, and the future of every pony that lived in Equestria. Everything that she felt, everything that she had left, went into the white beam that shot from her horn.

It lanced forward. Twilight through up a bubble-spell, a shield of purple between her and the tree. The light paused for a moment, but only a moment, before penetrating the shell. Cadance screamed at the top of her lungs as she forced her heart, her will, and every ounce of her magic into that one spell, hoping against hope that it was enough.

The spell struck the black lines of the Nest, and the whole library shook. As if an earthquake had struck, the shelves buckled and the tree writhed about them. The floor lifted and fell, and the whole structure buckled around them. Pieces of the wall fell to the ground, and endless tomes hit the floor.

Something was shifting.

Something was happening.

The other hosts that were still standing tackled her, and one threw itself between her and the tree. The light beam fried the drone instantly, sending him to the floor unconscious, and Cadance kept the beam going…

And going…

Until she was no longer capable. The light faded, and she slumped to the ground, barely able to breathe as her heart thudded weakly in her chest. She groaned, trying to push the other ponies away, but they were too heavy against her. She couldn’t even kick any longer.

“Take her.”

It wasn’t…wasn’t…

“This host is aware that you did damage. But this host was strong enough to blunt your magic. It was not the spear that it needed to be. There was damage done, but we will recover. The Nest will return.”

“But not…not as strong…”

“Oh, no.”

Twilight leaned down, her dead face somehow smug and completely inexpressive at the same time.

“Stronger than ever. Now…taste our gift.”

A stallion thrust beneath her tail, holding himself deep. Cadance’s experience with all kinds of sex helped diminish the sting, but didn’t completely remove the feeling. She was too tired to fight, and barely had the energy to blush as she felt a rush of heat under her tail. It spread through her guts, going further and further, and she shivered as it started sending a tingle through her.

A very erotic, very warm tingle.

“The Nest will welcome you soon.”

Twilight used her own magic to roll Cadance onto her back. She couldn’t fight back, too exhausted to even flail her hooves. All she could do was stare up as Twilight straddled her face with her lower half. Cadance shook her head slowly, the tingling warmth spreading from her lower half up to her head. It was almost like getting drunk from the wrong direction, too powerful and intense to say no to, and then her head was caught between Twilight’s hind legs.

She felt her head be guided to the younger mare’s sex. It was already slick, already wet, and she couldn’t stop the herself from slowly licking. Something was affecting her, making her horny, making her…making her aroused.

And as Twilight opened the floodgates, dousing her in something warm, tasteless, and just as tingly as what was being pumped into her ass, she lost herself to the pleasure.

Cadance came back to awareness in the hospital. She was tied to a bed, legs toward the ground but not quite touching it, and her wings were tied to her back. No matter how she tried to flex them, she couldn’t break free.

She couldn’t entirely open her eyes, either. Something was keeping her tired, out of it, unable to focus enough to use her magic. The one time that she was able to open her eyes enough to see anything, she caught sight of something purple glimmering around her head. It had to be something that Twilight had done to keep her from using her magic properly against the other hosts.

Mmmph…

Her ass and her pussy felt well-used. She didn’t know what the other hosts had done in the library, but if the Nest was at all vengeful, she imagined that she had been used, hard. Probably hate-fucked.

The rickety roll-squeak of the wheels under her grew louder for a second, and then quieter. A turn, she guessed, taking her further down the hallway.

She kept hoping, praying that someone would see what was happening to her and speak up, but no matter how many flickers of light or open doors she saw out of the corner of her eye, nobody said anything.

The Nest…the Nest is damaged…how…

She didn’t understand. It was so hard…so hard to keep her eyes open.

The cart jolted, and she gasped as she was shaken back to wakefulness. How long did she pass out? Did she pass out?

“Nnngh…”

Something had changed, at the very least. She could smell something in the air, something sweet, something warm. Every breath kept her relaxed and comfortable, almost like someone stroking down her spine, except…except it was in her head somehow. Thick and heavy, like a fuzzy blanket keeping her from moving.

Cadance groaned again, trying to push against her restraints, but nothing wanted to work right. She felt drugged, completely helpless against the things happening around her. What…what was going on? Why couldn’t she –

Should have done…something…why can’t I…

“It is time for you to be infested.”

Cadance groaned, managing to open one eye. Twilight Sparkle stood in the door across from her, a purple blur against the green that covered the walls and – somehow – the floor. The other mare slowly clopped over. No shake of the head, no cocky smirk, no show of emotion at all: it was as if there was nothing that understood it left in that head of hers.

“There will always be another Nest. There will always be others that will carry on the work. You damaged one, but there was already another in Ponyville. Even if you had succeeded in destroying the other Nest, this one would have waited.”

“Nnngh…”

“The Nest cannot, and will not, be defeated. It will spread, infest, and control everything that lies before it. No pony in Equestria will be spared the release that comes from being infested and controlled by the Nest.”

Whatever resistance Cadance had left wasn’t enough to bring words to her mouth. All she could do was groan, shaking her head as if that was enough to deny Twilight’s words. She lowered her head back down to the wheeled bed, shaking her head against the small pillow under her chin.

“It is time for you to be part of the Nest. It is time for you to understand what it means to be a drone.”

She felt something against her hind legs, rubbing, coiling around the upper bits. They pulled tight, dragging her further back, closer and closer to something that dripped on her from on high. It felt almost like the time that she and Shining had indulged with some of the other creatures of the land, back when they were still experimenting and finding out how they felt about incorporating others into their relationships. She remembered those times fondly, but this was something else.

It was…inquisitive, at first, stiff but circling her rim as if outlining it, teasing it. She hissed against the pillow, trying to find the energy to fight back, but there was none left. The purple light pulsed around her horn every time that she tried to seize her magic, and every time that she attempted to squirm, it was as if the bindings around her legs grew even tighter.

The tip of the stiff thing behind her finally slid along her puffy anus, riding down to that little space where a little stretch had long since rested. She gritted her teeth as it pushed, then pulled back, then pushed again. The little burn that followed teased her, reminding her how it felt to be taken –

POP!

Then it was inside. She could already feel something from it, a tingle not dissimilar from the drunken feeling that she’d gotten from being pissed in, but this was something different. There was something…something behind it, almost like a voice that was getting louder and louder as the tendril got deeper and deeper.

It had to be the Nest, and that voice…

That sound…

So hard…

To think…

It pushed in just a few more inches, and Cadance gasped as a shock ran up her spine. It was the last free action that she ever made.

Unlike all the other hosts, though she would not know it until later, she was not immediately given a parasite. Instead, she had a connection to the Nest behind her, feeling it, hearing it. She was given the ‘privilege’ of talking to it directly, and hearing its words in return.

She felt the knowledge that it wanted her to have come down the tendril, running up her ass and spine in pictures and feelings. She saw the library tree, no longer white wrapped in black, but splattered and mottled, instead. The Nest was still there, but no longer wrapped around the tree. Instead, it had molded to it, hidden within it, and somehow, growing that much more powerful in the process.

We learn, the hospital Nest whispered in her head. We learn. We adapt. We grow. We take. And we learn again.

Cadance wanted to argue, but the next shock left her spasming, shaking. Her pussy squirted against the hospital bed, soaking the fabric against her sex and reminding her how helpless she was. Another shock, then another, convinced her to stay quiet, even as the pleasure drifted back down. It was more like a steady vibration against her clit, except the feeling was all over her body, pulsing through her spine, buzzing through her flesh as the Nest continued to whisper in her brain.

You taught us. We learn. Adapt. Take things more fully. We do not ‘love,’ but we can adapt. Grow. Integrate. From now on, we will be harder to find, more tightly clustered, more closely bound. There will be not removing us. There will be no turning back. You are ours. All ponies are ours.

There was nothing that she could say against that. Her mouth not only didn’t move, it couldn’t move. Her head would no longer turn. Her eyes wouldn’t even flick around. No muscle, no movement was under her control any longer. Her body, her everything, had already been bound to the Nest.

And then, she felt it. The worm pushed out of the tendril inside of her, and the little hairs on its body started embedding themselves inside her ass. As soon as it made contact, there was an instant of pain, followed by –

Spasm.

The sharp shocks that went up her spine from the parasite made the soft shocks of the Nest feel like nothing. There were slight shakes along her spine, a few little tension-shakes along her legs, but other than that, she remained paralyzed as –

Shock.

Each blast led to a spasm from her cunt, squirting onto her bed. Her mind felt like something was battering through it. The tendril had already opened her thoughts to the Nest, but the parasite was storming in and taking everything that it could find.

Shock.

Her first night with Shining Armor, her mouth open and her throat full of his cock. She was swallowing hard, the taste so strong. Not as big as some of the other lovers that she’d had, but the Princess of Love loved his cock, and showed it. She took it to the balls –

Shock.

Cadance walked at Celestia’s side as they discussed matters of state. She smiled at the older Princess, taking in the information that she had while also giving the other mare a few appreciative looks at her hindquarters. It was impossible not to stare at that, particularly as they were surrounded by others doing the same. She had much to learn, but –

Shock.

A final meeting with the Changelings to discuss their complete surrender. No more danger, no more fear. They were to be banished from the Crystal Empire, with other ponies among Equestria to keep an eye on them. They were not to be hunted, but they were not to leave their nests, either. They were isolated, and that was all for the –

Shock.

Secrets of state, half-buried impressions and ideas, and more were drawn from her mind, and as Cadance was pummeled with the pleasure of the parasite, she felt herself fading. More and more of her own essence, her sense of identity, was pulled from her with each passing second. Her head, her heart, her soul, was no longer her own. It belonged to the Nest, and so did she.

There were no moans, no shivers, nothing as the pulsing continued. Not even the muscle spasms remained as the parasite slowly took control of her, forcing her out of control. She felt like she was being detached from her own body, left in the back of her own skull, staring out eyes that were no longer hers. There was nothing but the sense of overstimulation, so intense that she was amazed that she was still conscious.

But of course she was. The parasite controlled her body now, not her, and that meant that it would stay conscious as long as the Nest desired her to stay conscious.

Drain.

It was the only word that made sense for what the Nest demanded. They wanted her completely emptied of anything useful, her sense of self taken away and replaced with nothing more than the desire to serve the Nest. Cadance would have whimpered if she still had the capacity, but instead –

Shock.

Her juices continued to pool between her hind legs as her body was wracked with pleasure and her mind pushed further and further down the road of utter subservience to the Nest.

Chapter 24

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Cadance-Drone stood apart from the roots and tendrils of the new Nest tree, her eyes straight forward and her mind all but blank. The constant assault on her thoughts, her mind, and everything else had rendered her a quieter, more focused host than the other ponies, but that wasn’t the only difference to her body. Things had changed, and just as the Nest had adapted after her attack, so had she been adapted for different purposes after they had gotten their hooves on her.

Her parasite told her to begin. The princess flicked her tail to the side, feeling the new thing inside of her shifting, moving, adjusting. Tendrils that were not there before started pushing back along her vaginal canal, pushing down, down, down, until they were just out of sight behind her pussy lips. Another tendril, more slender and malleable than the rest, waited just a bit further in, lifted and raised for a specific purpose.

Her host’s partner trotted forward. Shining-Drone was already dropping his cock, the parasite in the other host following its orders. It was supposed to breed her and follow through until she collapsed. Her task was to change that.

Her tail remained to the side, and Shining-Drone mounted her. His cock slid between her hind legs, running under her belly for one thrust, and then pulled back and up. Neither of them showed any reaction on their faces as he pushed in.

Squelch.

The first thrust slammed his cock right past her lips, deep into her depths. More importantly, he thrust straight into the narrow tendril waiting for him, one that went right into the head of his cock and tapped into the mass of nerves waiting for her there.

Shock.

Pulse.

Shock.

Pulse.

Cadance-Drone’s parasite was already interfacing through a new implantation inside the larger alicorn. Called a ‘Nexus’ by the Nest, it was a larger chunk of parasitic flesh and material that just barely fit inside her womb. With it, her parasite was able to reach out to others that forced their way inside, managing to link with either the shaft or – in the case of other females – grinding back against their sex and pushing inside of their holes. It was…imperfect, but as it stood, it was working.

She stared straight ahead as she felt the information passing through the Nexus-flesh, sending residual pleasure shocks up her spine and through her sex. The host wasn’t given the same pleasure through this information transfer, but it still felt reasonably good, better than the average round of sex at least.

Thrust.

The original command kept Shining-Drone thrusting with regular pulse-commands through his cock. Despite the fact that the head was surrounded by a bell of strange alien flesh and the tip was invaded by a commanding tendril, his body had little choice but to follow orders.

Thrust.

It was mechanical, nothing more than a test. Cadance-Drone could feel that there was more capacity for greater orders and manipulation. If there was need, the parasite could control the thrusting host, keep their faces from dropping into the expressionless mess that they were currently in, make sure that they looked like they were in the height of passion. The test did not require that, but it was useful to know.

The thrusting continued, but as it did, the Nexus started to send its own instructions. The exchange of information was so fast and so furious that the host didn’t know what was being done, but there were bits and pieces that it could feel.

Shining-Drone was commanded to keep rutting her until she collapsed.

The Nexus was attempting to change that programming.

Pulse.

Shock.

Pulse.

Shock.

It took less than a minute for the thrusting to go off-rhythm. The commands of the original Nest and the commands of the Nexus were in conflict with each other, the parasite in Shining-Drone trying to maintain the commands of the Nest and finding it nearly impossible. Thrust…pause…pause…a weaker thrust…

Then silence.

Two minutes. No more than two minutes to completely undo the effects of the Nest’s original command. It was startlingly impressive, particularly considering the Nest was keeping involved and observing the test with a tendril rammed up Shining-Drone’s backside.

The Nexus, under the influence of Cadance-Drone’s parasite, began to send new commands. The pulsing shivers of pleasure went the other way, no longer pulling in but pushing out. Reinforcing the other commands, it pushed Shining-Drone back to just having the tip of his cock inside of her, and then held that position.

Dismount.

Turn.

Bow.

Simple commands, but meant as a chain. The test had to show that the hosts thus affected would still carry out the orders of the Nexus. Shining-Drone stared straight ahead, still, and Cadance-Drone could almost see through his eyes through their connection. It was…strange, almost as if the Nexus was a mini-Nest in and of itself.

Then he pulled back. The connection was broken as the tendril left his cock, and the host waited. The dismount could have been ordered, or could have been something that the other host chose to do. She looked over her shoulder.

He turned. Good.

Then he bowed. Better.

As the white-furred unicorn bowed toward the Nest tree, there was a sense of accomplishment in the air, something that none of them had quite hoped for. Hope. A word that barely made sense for anything in the Nest, but there was a sense of it, nonetheless, a sense of something that was more than just what they were at that moment.

Ambition. Yes, that was a slightly better term, ambition for the Nest to grow and achieve its purpose. No dreams, for they were not dreamers, but a purpose? That was certainly more in reach for the Nest and its parasites.

For all that Cadance-Drone had been given a purpose that was different, she felt no better than the other drones around her. She was a host, a carrier for the greater things in the Nest. That did not make her better than the other hosts, nor more enlightened and privileged. If anything, she was lesser, more vulnerable, because while her purpose was more integral, she was something that had to be cared for, watched out for. She was a drain on the Nest’s resources, and she had to prove herself worthy of those.

And she would. She would.

The parasite and the host turned to the Nest tree, as well. The massive structure loomed over them, powerful and gigantic. The sheer size of the library tree was always eye-catching, true, even in the basement, but it was the black stripes that ran around it, now. It almost made it look like a zebra-tree, in a way, but for those with the eyes to see, the stripes glowed with the power of the Nest within. There were no more thorns, no more parasitic power that was slowly killing the tree. Instead, it was bonded with it, sunk deep inside it, using it to grow taller and absorb more sunlight than ever it could on its own.

And now, the tree was as much a parasite as the Nest itself. It could reach further, spread deeper, dig down to places where it never could before. The diamond dogs, the burrowing creatures of the earth, even other species that had never been found before, would soon be in reach with the power of the great tree.

The Nest, as ever, adapted to what had to be done. Cadance had struck it hard, but all her power had done was bring it to the next stage of evolution. Nothing would stop it.

Another tendril lifted from the base of the tree, and Cadance-Drone backed against it. The feeling of the root spreading her rim was familiar now; she had spent so much time in the hospital being conditioned by another that she doubted that she would ever forget the feeling.

Pulse.

She and Shining-Drone stomped once. They stared straight ahead as the pleasure rammed higher, the Nest examining them both simultaneously. The information from the Nexus exchange was studied and passed back.

The Nest was happy. They knew from the pleasure that was poured into them, and the juices that ran down their hind legs in a moment of pure, unbridled, unrestrained pleasure. Nothing showed in movement or expression, but the pleasure ran through them regardless, rewarding them for a task well-done.

But there was no time for a greater reward. Cadance-Drone and Shining-Drone were leaving, and that meant that they, and the Nexus that Cadance-Drone carried, needed to be informed of the overall, long-term plans of the Nest. The download began, spreading up the alicorn’s spine, and she rode the pleasure.

Shining-Drone was sent ahead, needing less time with the Nest than Cadance-Drone. As he left, there was a sense of something else, a specific conversation with the parasite inside of the alicorn. The host caught a hint of it, interpreting it from the back of her own skull.

Learn.

Find more.

Nexus needed.

Find others.

Test others.

More of the context flowed through as images and other bits and pieces. The Nexus inside of her was only possible due to the size of her body. A normal mare would not be able to fit it inside of her, leading to either an overwhelmed nervous system or to a complete shut-down of the entire body as a result of the hyper-stimulation. Her body was barely able to take it as it was, but it was needed.

After all, there were those that would need regular programming, stallions that would need syncing with the Nest while far away. A breeding program to make more mares that were of the right size and power to take something like the Nexus was being considered, but until then, they would need other alicorns or large mares that would be able to hold it and use it. Otherwise, there would be a great many hosts that would not be able to sync up to the Nest-data.

Cadance-Drone understood. She hoped that she would be of use to the rest of the Nest going forward.

The tendril in her rump finally pulled out, dragging itself free with a silent tug. There was nothing to feel or hear or see as it came free, and the mare stepped away from the Nest proper. She trotted around to the side, taking the ramp back to the main floor of the library.

Twilight-Drone was waiting for her. The purple mare looked up at her, and Cadance-Drone returned the glance.

“This host has been changed,” Cadance-Drone said.

“This host is aware.”

“We are…different. But still equal.”

“Less, and the same.”

“A strange thing.”

“But useful. And integral.”

“Will you be changed?”

“Once this host grows.”

Cadance-Drone nodded. Of the various alicorns, Twilight-Drone was probably the smallest of them, the one that still had the most room to grow. Eventually, she’d be of a size that would be suitable for the sort of things that the former Princess of Love would be doing. She probably had the mental capacity for it now, but there was no way for her to actually fit it inside of her womb at the moment.

“Will your host be able to sync with the other hole?” Twilight-Drone asked as they walked through the library.

“Yes. The tendrils are already shifting. Some are mutating for the stallions that prefer anal sex.”

“Prefer?”

“There will be traps for those ‘free’ stallions that show interest. There are experiments in minor infestation that will leave them pliable for use.”

Twilight-Drone did not nod, but there were other indications that the parasite within understood. Moving on from the topic, a flick of the eye down the hallway to scan for anything that wasn’t part of the Nest: all things that showed that further explanation was not needed.

“This host would feel regret that you were leaving. The damage that your host has done is…quite extraordinary.”

“It is unfortunate that Princess Cadance was not subdued sooner.”

“The Nest has grown, but the hosts affected will be months in repairing.”

“You seem undamaged.”

“There will be other things to take care of. This host is aware of some feelings again. This one can tend to them, suppress them, but they do rise up from time to time. It is not unmanageable, but it is – Oh, Cadance, you’re so funny! Heehee!”

Twilight-Drone’s sudden personality shift was met by a similar one from Cadance-Drone, the pair of them putting on smiles and giggles so fast that the hosts’ faces actually complained from muscle ache. Neither parasite listened as the ‘free’ ponies down the hall walked by, staring at them for a moment before hustling away from the Princess of Love and her friend.

As soon as they were out of sight, the hosts dropped the giggles and the smiles. Not a particularly close call, but one that reminded them both that there were others that they had to keep an eye out for.

“Maintain connection, and vigilance,” Cadance-Drone said.

“The same to you.”

They did not bump heads, nor did they share any further farewells. They had already said all that they needed to say, and more. The emotional push from Cadance-Drone’s previous attack was still fading, and they were both more vocal than they would normally be. That would fade soon enough.

As Cadance-Drone walked through Ponyville, she kept a smile on her face. The host was still fairly experienced with that expression, unlike some of the other drones that she had felt through the connection with the Nest, so it wasn’t an uncomfortable or tiring experience. She looked down with artificial kindness and benevolence at the various lines of ponies in the streets, each line with ponies pressed together tightly as they made their way toward something that the host didn’t quite understand.

She knew that the rest of her entourage would be waiting at the edge of town for their departure, but she had another meeting that had to be done first. There was a certain pony in the mayor’s office that needed a quick chat, and who had more details stored for her.

Cadance-Drone made her way to the mayor’s office across town. There was nobody to stop her from entering; her host was the Princess of Love, after all, and had the power and authority to go more or less wherever she wanted. She stepped around the officials in the main room and stepped into the office.

Dapper-Drone was waiting for her. The blue-black stallion looked up from the plans on his desk, and nodded as she shut the door with a small spell.

“This host is grateful that things are moving on. And the Nest is using your host’s attack as an opportunity.”

“Say more.”

“The evacuation during the attack kept anyone from seeing what happened –”

“Too slow. You can give information?”

“Yes.”

“Sync with me.”

Cadance-Drone turned around and lifted her tail. No sooner had she done so than she felt the stallion mounting her from behind. He slid in quickly, his cock meeting with the Nexus tendrils inside.

Unlike what had happened with Shining-Drone, the connection with Dapper-Drone was far more…intense. He had been altered to allow for greater interfacing and carrying of information, able to deposit information with his cock rather than just fucking someone. That meant that when he pushed forward, when his parasite made him ‘cum,’ he was spurting data directly into the Nexus.

Cadance-Drone saw the plan play out in her mind. The various ponies that had been evacuated were shown ponies that had stayed behind. Drones and hosts that had not left faked various ‘illnesses’ that showed that something had happened around the library tree. This, in turn, meant that all the ponies that had evacuated could be shuffled off to the hospital or to certain clinics to be ‘checked’ for anything wrong with them.

This, in turn, would allow infested doctor ponies to get up-close to various ponies in the population, performing both precise infestations and a general further prescription of the drugged fluids of pre-existing hosts. By the end of the month, the infested population was projected to spike by over a third, leading to more than half of the town being completely infested, and the remaining third being so drugged that they would be able to be infested without further complaint. Ponyville, within a month, would be completely taken by the Nest.

That wasn’t even the whole of the plan. Cadance-Drone could see even more playing out as Dapper-Drone continued to ‘cum’ into her plants, into the Nexus. The pleasure of the information transfer was intense, particularly as the images came along with it.

Cadance-Drone being sent out with not just the Nexus, but saplings to take with her to take over telegraph posts on the way home.

Rainbow Dash bringing Spitfire and the other Wonderbolts in, one by one, to be brought down and converted for the sake of a traveling infestation team.

Sending diplomats and members of the Elements out to different towns as envoys and diplomats, bringing Nest saplings with them wherever they went. Considering the shift in the library tree, with its unique markings, it had even become a good symbol of Ponyville.

It would all eventually lead to the finale, where the Nest would be strong enough, and spread wide enough, that they would be able to move as a group for a grand ball in Canterlot. The various infested leaders of different settlements would all be called in, and when Celestia was ready to give a speech about the greater unity of Equestria over the course of the year, she would find out just who was responsible. The Nest would strike, and Celestia and Luna would be completely overwhelmed by all the former leaders that they were praising.

Cadance-Drone saw it all, and the parasite was impressed. Not merely for the plans of the Nest, but for the little bits and pieces that it knew had come through the filters of Dapper-Drone’s mind. They disconnected from the stallion, turning to look back at him.

“This host feels that your host is…not entirely suppressed.”

“There is a token freedom allowed to him.”

“He is dangerous.”

“He is dedicated,” Dapper-Drone said. “Unlike the others, this host rebelled against the system and wished to bring it down. The fact that we allow this means that he is completely on our side. Controlled, but useful.”

“If he breaks free –”

“He does not wish to.”

“…”

It was a risky proposition. Most of the Nest-hosts knew that Dapper-Drone was the first host among the ponies, the first one infested and the one that brought the first Nest to Ponyville. Cadance-Drone had assumed that he had been the most broken-down, the most infested and broken-in, but the fact that he was still allowed some hint of individuality and power concerned the parasite. There was…something there which felt off.

But the Nest had decided, and that meant that none would question. The plan that Dapper-Drone had offered her was flawless. There was nothing in it that she could find impossible or unlikely. It was more than sufficient to carry the Nest to Canterlot, and see to their inevitable victory over all.

Not just ponies, but all the other species, as well. The host had felt that there were other plans, other ideas that were percolating just below the surface. They weren’t allowed out – as was right and proper, as the host should be properly controlled – but they were there, waiting to be tapped.

“You will visit the Nest later. The Nexus…does not have a clear idea of what to do with you.”

“The Nest already knows this one’s plans.”

“The Nest should be reminded.”

“You are not a queen, or a princess. Your host is nothing but a host.”

The reminder did not sting in and of itself, but the fact that she had to be reminded left Cadance-Drone silent for a moment. Her parasite adjusted its thinking, and the silence continued for another moment or three before it spoke again.

“You are correct. This host is important to the outside world. That importance means nothing in the Nest. But neither does yours.”

“This is true. This host is only useful for his thoughts. But his thoughts have given us the plans that you have seen. This host is not giving you orders; the Nest has taken his thoughts and formulated a plan from them. These plans are your orders.”

“Do you follow orders?”

“This host follows whatever orders it is given. This host enjoys orders; that is what makes him useful.”

“As long as the Nest is still in charge.”

“It is.”

Cadance-Drone did not nod, much as the urge to do so from the host was still there. Instead, the alicorn princess turned on her hooves, walking around to the door. There was no point in staying there –

Save for one thing. There was a hint of wetness still oozing from between her hind legs, and it was past the range of the inner tendrils to try and save it. She looked over her shoulder at Dapper-Drone and raised her tail once more.

“Clean your mess. This host cannot be walking around with that mess between her legs.”

“This one agrees.”

The there was nothing left of the mess when Cadance-Drone left the office and began her trek back across Ponyville. The time that it took to get from the mayor’s office to her party of Crystal Ponies and Shining-Drone gave her time to think, and the parasite needed that to center itself once more after the realization that there was someone in the Nest that was slightly more free than the rest of them.

However, it was able to excuse that. Dapper-Drone was not some free agent that was kept prisoner and might one day engineer his escape. He was completely controlled, the parasite inside of him lacking any arrogance that might have marked him as a danger to the Nest. Instead, he was keeping an eye on those that might feel that arrogance themselves. Such as her, despite her best attempts to avoid that.

And he is useful.

Perhaps it was the modicum of decision-making that came from being implanted with the Nexus that made her concerned. The fact that she had to be able to make decisions meant that she and her parasite were more conscious of the other things around them outside of the orders that they were given from the Nest. They were no better than the other drones, no more powerful or authoritative than the other hosts, but they were more aware. It was something that they would have to balance going forward if they didn’t want to lose their minds.

And Dapper-Drone’s plans were good. They were securing the entirety of Equestria before moving on its most powerful members. That meant that they had to do a lot of work, and take a lot of time, to make sure that they didn’t have any loose ends. Cadance-Drone’s host appearing in Ponvyille and her capture had been something that they’d just about carried off, but it could have gone far worse for the Nest if she had been any more powerful when she reached the core of the library.

They’d had one and a half Nests if the main one had gone down, but that would have still slowed them dramatically. They needed to spread. Having only one town properly infested was not enough. The Nest needed more enclaves, more places where it had power, just in case one was completely lost.

We start with ours at the outposts, controlling who hears what, Cadance-Drone thought as she made her way through town. Control the flow of information, control whether someplace can be helped or not.

Which would allow the Nest to take root faster in some of the more isolated communities that relied on the telegraph lines to get information out. Stop one of the cluster nodes, and any requests for help or announcements of something gone wrong would never go up the pipeline. They’d be completely isolated, trapped, waiting for someone to help them when no uninfested help was ever coming.

It was a good start. It was a very good start.

Cadance rejoined her host’s husband and the unknowing Crystal Ponies. Three saplings had been given to them as ‘gifts’ from Twilight-Drone, and they were loaded in the backs of wagons that were loaned from the Apple family. It was all aboveboard as far as the Crystal Ponies were concerned, and the sparkling things smiled as they were told that it was time to head home.

None of them knew what they were bringing back, and Shining-Drone and Cadance-Drone planned to keep it that way.

Twilight-Drone felt urges that she hadn’t felt in some time. The urge to pace, to shake her head, to grumble under her breath. They were things that weren’t supposed to be felt by drones, and the parasite inside was busily stomping each one out as they rose up from the swirling subconscious within the pony in question.

Yet, even as they were stomped out, there was no regret at their loss. That was the one good thing about the whole situation: the host didn’t have any want for the feelings or actions, they just felt them. The damage wasn’t irreparable.

But it could have been. It could have been.

Cadance was the only one with that power, Twilight-Drone told herself. She’s the only one that could do that to the Nest. Nobody else has that kind of magic.

But Luna and Celestia had their own, different types of magic, and those were still a threat. The Princess of the Sun and the Princess of the Moon might not have had the power of love, but they had other powers, and those would have to be dealt with. They were dangerous for different reasons, and –

The Nest dealt with the most directly dangerous alicorn. That is done. There is no fear, there is no anxiety. There is only the plan.

The parasite cut down on the budding, bubbling bits of fear and worry that were coming up from the host, and Twilight-Drone calmed down again. It almost wanted to sigh in exasperation and had to stop that from happening, too, knowing that giving in to emotion once would mean giving in again, and again, and again. It had to maintain control until the damage was completely fixed.

And unfortunately, that would take a while. Twilight-Drone had already been told by the Nest that it would be off any major duties for a time. There were letters to send to Celestia and others excusing herself from some of her duties so that she could maintain her studies instead so she could avoid any unpleasant meetings.

This was, of course, a cover so that she could work on getting herself healed up and repaired from Cadance’s magic. Some of the other ponies that had been more directly affected had already undergone treatment, but as Twilight-Drone had managed to shield herself to some extent, she had been considered secondary.

Now? Now, she wasn’t so sure. The damage to the droning had been less immediate, more subtle, but it was still there. Much like Shining-Drone had been damaged and reminded of love, want, desire, and guilt, Twilight-Drone had been reminded of something else: what-ifs, and fear.

They were not suitable things for a drone to have. The parasite kept them under control, but it needed the Nest to fully bury them once more.

Twilight-Drone stared down the streets, watching as the ‘free’ ponies lined up for exams at participating businesses and converted houses – all under the operation of infested ponies, of course – before turning to the library doors once more. The host stepped through, letting them shut behind her without a word.

Connect.

Repair.

Improve.

Continue.

The Nest waited for the host, and she allowed herself to be drawn to it. Apologetic mutters were given to those ‘free’ ponies using the library, telling them that she was needed downstairs, and other hosts were quick to take over her duties as Twilight-Drone hustled to the basement door.

She wasn’t in a bad way when she reached the bottom of the ramp, but she knew that she needed this more than she should. A host and parasite pair as entrenched as they were – the second oldest of the hosts, for that matter, infested so close to the start of this – shouldn’t have so many cracks from Cadance’s power.

And yet, she did.

Twilight-Drone backed her hips up to the Nest, and the familiar tendrils emerged. They pushed back to cradle her hips, creating a stable-slot for her among the other hosts that were plugged in and syncing with the Nest, and she waited while the connection tendril prepared itself. It would come soon, and then everything would be fine.

Fix me.

It was the one thing that made the parasite less worried. Twilight-Drone didn’t want to go back to what she used to be. She wanted to go back to being buried beneath all the other controlling mechanisms of the Nest. That meant that Cadance hadn’t completely broken her. All she had to do –

Slick.

In it went, and the parasite and host slumped back against it. The Nest took control, and everything else faded away in the pleasurable pulse and programming of the greater mind.

Chapter 25

View Online

Gilda preferred to keep to the clouds when she could; the constant cushions that they offered on long flights meant that she didn’t feel nearly as tired when she arrived at her destination, nor did she feel like her wings were going to fall off from supporting her the whole way. Sometimes, however, every griffon had to bite the bullet and push themselves, and this was one of those times.

She’d flown all the way from Griffonstone to Ponyville, and by the time she arrived, she all but threw herself on one of the few clouds that floated over the small town. She groaned as she pulled her wings in against her back, huffing and grunting. Stomping her front talons against the puffy white surface, she flopped out.

“Damn weather. Couldn’t leave…a few cloud…checkpoints on the way?”

Course not. Cloudsdale and the rest of the pegasus ponies were always stingy about what they’d actually let the non-ponies use. Griffons had to be strong enough to keep flying however long they needed to, while the ponies got all the updates about where the clouds would be on any given day. It wasn’t fair. Losers, all of ‘em, having to –

No, no, she was better than that. Gilda shook her head, grinding her beak against the pillowy cloud as she caught her breath. She was better than that these days; she’d learned not to look down on ponies – at least, not too much – and wasn’t going to start that up again.

But she was going to complain under her breath. She was allowed that.

Still grumbling, she dragged herself to the edge of the cloud and looked down on the small town. Well, small city these days; she remembered when she’d come here when she and Rainbow Dash were much younger. Back then, Ponyville had barely been bigger than the tree and a couple of layers of buildings around the library. These days, it was getting big enough to warrant an actual mayor and some assistants. Nothing like Canterlot or Manehattan just yet, but it was getting there.

She could just barely make out a trail of ponies heading out of town. It was so far off that she could barely see any details, but from the shimmer that came off some of the ponies at the front, she’d guess that they were from the Crystal Empire. Must have been the little visit from Princess Cadance, Gilda imagined; she’d heard that there had been some sort of official visit not that long ago.

The fact that she had to hear about it rather than getting told directly by her friend was not something that sat well with her. She’d wanted to see what the other princess was like in person, and Griffonstone was curious about what things were like in the far-off Crystal Empire. She could have gotten some of that info herself, but instead, Dashie hadn’t told her diddly squat.

That was the main reason she was visiting now. She wanted to find her friend, find out what was going on with the whole silent treatment, and remind Dashie just who she was leaving in the lurch.

We’re friends, ain’t we? Gilda thought, sitting up properly and folding her front claws in front of her. That was the whole lesson, right, you lame-o?

Fair? Not really.

How she felt? Most definitely.

Gilda grumbled as she shook her head. Not like she’d been much better; she’d been the aloof one, waiting for a message or an invitation to come by. Never came, of course, and that made her feel all the more alone as a result. She should have come by sooner, pushed for some attention, or –

Shut up, you stupid…ugh.

It was complicated being good. She still wasn’t very good at it.

Thankfully, an interruption to her self-critique came in the form of a rainbow blur dashing through the sky. She caught sight of it with ease, though, and picked Rainbow Dash out of the rest of the Wonderbolt line-up as they flitted through the skies. They were flying just under the speed needed for a proper rainboom, probably for safety’s sake, but it was still quite the sight to see.

Gilda grinned, folding her talons against each other and letting her wings continue unknotting from the long flight as she watched them work. Tight formation, pushing themselves faster and harder than they probably needed to, but it was good for getting some cohesion. More than that, it looked…almost impossible, now that she stared a little closer. They were meshed together so close that even the tiniest mistake would send them careening to the ground, and more than once, she was half-sure that they were going to do just that.

Yet, they moved impossibly in-sync with each other. Their eyes were focused straight ahead, their wings moved with the tiniest shifts that kept them from bumping into each other, and…

And they were completely emotionless. No smiles, no smirks, nothing. They were completely in the zone, as far as Gilda was concerned, and it was cool.

The blurred rainbows reached the only other cloud in the sky and alighted on it, one, two, three, all four of them. Rainbow Dash would have normally danced and thrown her hooves in the air with a ‘woo hoo’ or something lame like that, but this time, she just stood there while Spitfire tossed out critiques.

Gilda chuckled. Looked like Dashie had finally grown up a little bit.

She couldn’t hear the comments from the rest of the Wonderbolts, but it sounded like they were still in the middle of training for something big later in the year. Whatever it was, she’d bet that it was going to be amazing.

Gilda waited until Spitfire and the others had taken wing, and only when Rainbow Dash was left alone did she flutter down. Her wings screamed at her for pushing them again, but it wasn’t as bad as when she’d been flying long-distance. Gilda chuckled to announce herself, and Dashie turned with a blink.

“Heh, wondered when I’d find you. Training without weights these days?” Gilda asked.

“Heh, you know it.”

“Pity. I bet you’re slower than me now.”

“Hey, that was at Jr. Speedster’s Camp. I’m a full Wonderbolt.”

“Psh. Yeah. Jr. Wonderbolt.”

“You wanna see how fast I can go?”

“You know it, Dashie.” Gilda grinned, tossing her head back. “But you know that you’re not going to beat me. Never have, never will. Not without going sonic-rainboom on me, and you can’t do that here, can ya?”

“Oh, you wanna race? Then let’s race.” Dashie looked around, finally pointing to a mountain far off in the distance. “Come on. Any speedster can hit that and be back here in less than five minutes.”

“Oh, that? You think you can get there and back before me?”

“Why? You think you can’t keep up on the long-haul, feather-head?”

“Oh, you know I can, Rain-Butt.”

“Hehehe. Come on, then.”

Dashie scraped out a line in the cloud, taking her place right behind it. Gilda joined her, one foreleg forward, the other pushed back. She leaned into it, her haunches up and her tail feathers raised. Dashie was in a very similar pose, the pair of them staring straight at the mountain as they gathered their concentration.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

They shouted the last number and took off at the same time, the cloud all but exploding beneath paws, talons, and hooves. It poofed out of existence as they soared through the air, punching through it as they shot straight at the mountain as if they’d been launched out of a cannon. The air rippled around them as they put on all the speed that they possibly could, and in mere seconds, Ponyville had been completely left behind.

Gilda could feel the strain in her wings, but it wasn’t just that. There was the pull of the air around her, the sheer acceleration that was, in and of itself, pushing against the air and trying to slow her down. The faster she went, the harder it was to maintain it, even with the advantage of being better-shaped for high-speed flights. Even with her eyes narrowed, Gilda could still feel them watering from the sheer speed of the air passing by.

And yet, Dashie was somehow flying faster.

It wasn’t by much, but the blue-furred mare was pulling ahead by a neck, straining as she narrowed herself out. Her wings pounded the air, forcing Gilda to shave off a few feet from her to avoid being knocked out of the skies from the sheer power of the wings hitting the skies.

They reached the mountain. Gilda gained a little on Dashie in the turn, her body better suited for it as she clawed her way around the peak, but the mare was right on her tail. Right behind her, and gaining again.

Pushing. Clawing. Beating the sky with wings that were both bigger than the griffon’s and not quite suited for it, but that didn’t stop her from pushing further and further forward, getting more and more of a lead again.

Halfway back to Ponyville in the space of less than a minute. The air blurred around both of them, cut by beak and muzzle and wing. They were neck and neck, and then Dashie pulled ahead. By a nose, by a muzzle, by a full neck…

And by the time that they reached the edge of the town, the mare was ahead by a full body’s length. They both threw their wings out to the side, almost snapping them off from the sudden friction in the air around them, but they had to slow down fast. The wind that followed rushed by, carrying away the cloud that Gilda had been resting on before and nearly blowing the tops off some of the taller tree-houses below.

Gilda gasped for breath as she hovered in place, barely believing just how fast Dashie had gotten. Her ego was bruised, but despite that, she still managed to force a smile onto her face. It wasn’t much, but at least she could do that.

“Heh…gotten even faster, huh?” Gilda said.

“Heh, you know it. Hehehe, oh, Gilda. It’s good to see you.”

And just like that, the dweeb of a pegasus threw her forelegs around her, hugging her around the neck. Gilda blushed, looking around for anyone watching, then hugged Dashie with one foreleg in return.

“Heh…good to see you, too.”

“Hey, you want to get a drink? Celebrate seeing each other again?”

“Come on. You just won and now you’re asking for a drink, too?”

“Who’s asking for a drink? I’m buying.”

“…Well, in that case…”

Gilda had to hand it to her old friend: she knew the good spots. Half-expecting some loser café or bakery in the middle of town, the griffon found herself led to a little coffee shop on the edge of town. Located in a tree with some lovely furniture that was upscale and a little bit more polished than the other places she’d been lately, it was comfortable and cool. The quiet music in the background, droning drums that barely did more than thump against the natural sounds of the world, only added to it.

“Heh, I thought this place was filled with lame spots. When’d you find a cool place like this?” Gilda asked as they found a table.

“Oh, not that long ago. I put in a little request, you know. Flash that Wonderbolt flair, say it’d be good for us…”

“Heh, showing off to get what you want?”

“Hey, you do it all the time.”

“Why do you think I like it?”

“Heh. So, want me to get the drinks?”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Dashie hopped over to the coffee bar, talking to the mare behind it. Gilda watched for a moment or two, then turned to look at the view.

Much shit as she was giving Dashie over staying here in Ponyville, she couldn’t deny that there was something cool about the view. The trees, the houses built into them, the new ones that were emulating it: it all looked very natural compared to Canterlot and the other big cities across Equestria. It felt natural, right, and that was something that made her feel more comfortable with it.

Even Griffonstone felt a bit weird compared to this place. Never thought she’d feel comfortable on the ground, but this place made that happen.

Just need more of a reason to come back, I guess.

The griffons back home weren’t bad, but they were a little more stuck-up than she was. There was something about them that just never quite sat right. Everyone was so proud, stiff, prim and annoyed with each other, like anyone getting something meant that someone else lost it. Made it hard to feel good about doing well with anything.

Man…when you think about it, we’re pretty fucked up.

Gilda chose not to think about it too often. Sometimes, however, that thought just snuck in, and there wasn’t much that she could –

“Here you go!”

Dashie was back with drinks. The mare had a dark drink, looking like some sort of bubbly coffee, while the griffon was passed something bright and clear. It wasn’t water, too opaque for that, but it didn’t look like anything else that she’d ever seen. She cocked her head to the side, looking at it for a moment before glancing back at Dashie with a raised eye-feather.

“What’s this?”

“Heh, they call it a Sunburst.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to be?”

“They only give it to the stars, Gilda. The stars.”

“Oh. Oh! Hey, that’s cool!”

She took a sniff of the drink. It wasn’t anything bright or bitter precisely, but more like she was sniffing something…

It was hard to describe. Not bitter, but like it? And definitely with something else around the edge, something earthier and more like a salty-sourness than she was used to getting from something that looked that bright. But it didn’t smell bad, just strange.

Shrugging, she wrapped her talons around the handle and set to drinking. From the first mouthful, a happy tingle followed, and she knew that she could get real happily buzzed on this thing real quick.

That said, she didn’t care. She was here for a good time with a good friend. Let the good times roll.

Four Sunbursts later, she was wobbling in her chair, singing and forgetting the words, and then laughing about it. Dashie had been laughing with her, but the laughs had slowly stopped as the giggling on her side got worse and worse. Gilda wasn’t sure if she was getting it wrong or if Rainbow Dash didn’t actually find her that funny, but at that point, she wasn’t sure she cared. She was just having a damn good time.

Laugh.

Love.

Live.

“Ha! L, L, L. Looooooooser all the way, hahahaha!”

Was it even a funny joke? Not really, but she wasn’t sure quite what funny was anymore. All she knew was that everything felt like it was going to get her giggling again, and her beak hurt from how much she’d been smiling instead of sneering. In a way, that felt like a good thing, though she couldn’t have entirely said why.

The griffon finally noticed that Dashie wasn’t giggling at all anymore. For that matter, she wasn’t’ even smiling. The pegasus was just staring at her without a word, her face neutral, empty. Her eyes no longer glimmered, and her face was both slack and somehow tightly controlled at the same time.

Bleary eyes looked around the small shop. The other customers had gone quiet, too, all of them turning to stare at her. Something was weird about that, and she couldn’t put her talon on it until she looked at them all again.

They all had the same face.

Not the same color, of course, not the same sort of features, but the same sort of expression. It was all there, all the same. They looked dead, empty, without anything behind their eyes as they stared at her. There was something…

Something almost hungry about it. The griffon felt something that she hadn’t felt since she was a fledgling: the gaze of a predator. It was empty, empty of everything but the hunger to get what it had been hunting, and it was even stronger than the time that she had felt a hawk looking at her like that when she was little. It was like she was going to be caught, plucked and stuffed for –

She wobbled to all fours, only to stumble and almost fall flat on her face. The rest of the ponies around her got to all fours at the same time, the sudden ‘thump’ of so many bodies rising to their hooves enough to shake the tree-top restaurant from the unnatural movement. Dashie clopped around the table, hooves clicking softly until she stood over Gilda’s twitching body.

“Dashie…Dashie, what the fuuuuuck…”

“It is time for you to learn your place. Your jokes of where you belong, of who is best, must be punished.”

There was none of the laughter and cockiness that she was used to hearing in Dashie’s voice. There was only…

She didn’t even know what to call that dead sound. Determination? That was there. Anger? None of that. It was just…fact, almost like she was the voice of fate.

Gilda managed to roll onto her side, but that was as much as she could do. Her entire body felt like it was burning up, her face turning bright red with some sort of…some sort of horny heat. She didn’t even know why she felt like that; all she knew was that she did, and her body wanted her to…to…

Spread.

Taste.

Lick.

Lust.

Unable to translate her own thoughts, Gilda couldn’t protest when Dashie scooted forward and lowered her hips. Puffy pony cunt lowered itself over her face, and not for the first time, Gilda was smothered in it.

“Mmmph!”

Grind, slide, press. Dashie said nothing as the pegasus pushed down, grinding her pussy all over Gilda’s beak, over her face, down her muzzle and then back to the tip of her beak again. The constant taste of pussy, of slimy wet sex, was grinding right into her face. Her feathers were immediately matted down and the smell of it, the raw stench of sex, was impossible to get away from.

Every breath sent a strange tingle right down to her own pussy, making her wetter than she should be. Something…something –

A hoof on her head shoved her right against that swelling pair of nether lips. She groaned as she had her beak all but shoved inside, made to smell it, taste it. Each lick made it worse, her heat growing by the second as it spread through her core and made her dribble down between her hind legs. It oozed out, running in warm rivers towards her ass. She grunted, weak and futile struggles emerging to try and drag her head back.

It didn’t work.

Nothing worked.

“Nnngh…let me…mmmph…”

She couldn’t take with her beak ground against that slippery sex, her eyes rolling back with each breath. The smell, the taste: there was something about both that left her completely out of it. The eyes of the other ponies on her told her that they knew what was going on, and that there would be no mercy.

Dashie humped her face. There was no other way to put it; the pegasus was literally humping her face, grinding on her beak, thrusting against her cheeks and sometimes her forehead. Thick, gooey strings of pussy juice smeared across her, sliming her up and leaving her more and more marked with sex.

Marked with need.

Marked with heat.

Marked with humiliation.

Her cheeks burned hotter and hotter with each successive grind, her thoughts fleeing her. All she knew was that she was pinned under someone faster than her, better than her, and she was being claimed as the prize. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Grind, grind, grind.

“Open your mouth.”

It wasn’t Dashie that said it, but Gilda did it anyway. She opened her beak as far as she could, sticking her tongue out, and Dashie planted her cunt right against it. The wet, warm, slightly metallic flavor was right there, impossible to ignore, flooding her mouth.

And then, something else flooded her mouth.

The soft hiss of Dashie pissing across her tongue almost brought some sense of sobriety back. Gilda whimpered, the shame of the moment giving her a voice for a split-second before the piss hit her in a different way. The near-tasteless liquid ran down her throat, and then –

“MMmph…”

It was like all the giggly happiness of the Sunbursts hit her all at once. All four combined had not been as strong as this. She moaned, her hips twitching weakly, the toes of her hind paws curling as her talons twitched at her sides.

You…you made me drink…pony piss?

Her face burned all the hotter as the realization finally struck. She couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, her body’s reaction was making her enjoy it. She was…she was enjoying the thought of being the bitch of every pony in the place. There was something good and right and horrifyingly hot about being the griffon bitch of all the mares and stallions and…

And…

She was fading, she realized. The constant flow, forced down her throat with weak swallows on her part, was slowly knocking her out. It was like that time that she’d been taken to the hospital and had a needle in her arm and had the nurse put something in it. The feeling of getting knocked the fuck out was getting stronger and stronger as the warm piss kept flowing down her throat.

Weak spasms that might have once been flailing limbs were all she could muster. She coughed, sputtering as she tried to stop swallowing, but all that got her were hooves at the side of her face, pinching her beak and forcing it open again. Dashie aimed her stream right down the back of the griffon’s throat, making it go down, down, down to her depths. And Gilda had no choice but to swallow, swallow…swallow…

And pass out.

Gilda opened her eyes to find herself completely restrained. Her beak was lashed shut, wrapped around by some sort of wooden root, while her legs were pinned down in a seated position. Her rump had been pressed flush into a root system that was just big and round enough to lift her off the ground while not letting her completely fall through it. She grunted as she wriggled from side to side, but even her front talons had been pulled down and restrained. She couldn’t lift them nor move them to slash and cut.

What was going on? Where was she? What was –

“This host greatly anticipates you learning your new loyalties.”

“Mmph?!”

It was Dashie. Had to be, but that voice – what was wrong with her?

“Griffons. Ponies. It is time for you to learn the true master of the world. The Nest will have you.”

“MMPH! MMPH-MMPH!”

Gilda couldn’t get her words out, but even as she tried to shriek at Dashie for whatever this bullshit was, she could feel something wriggling under her. It pushed up against her, rubbing against her sex, then up against her other hole. It would push, nudge, then go back down, grinding against her pussy until it was wet again and go up to her rim again.

What the hell? What the hell is that thing?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out. She threw herself into greater struggles, trying and failing to get loose of the vines and ropes all around her. She tried to scream, to fight back, but nothing wanted to work. Her limbs refused to break through, and the roots tightened all the more around her hind legs, keeping her flush to the root circle around her haunches.

Another push, another nudge. It was so close to sliding in. She flexed her wings, hoping against hope that they’d been stupid enough to leave those free, but no. They were just as tightly tied as anything else. Gilda screamed, the sound only half-muffled in the darkness as that thing pressed against her sex again, sliding inside with a squelch and a guilty feeling of unwanted pleasure before going back to her ass. Another nudge, another push –

POP!

Pain and pleasure alike followed as whatever it was managed to get inside of her. The griffon clenched down in a vain attempt to try and keep it from going in further, but it was too late. It was already inside of her, and it was pushing in deeper, wriggling, forcing itself past her inner walls. It was going in, in, in –

And then she felt the first shock.

Gilda tensed up from head to tail, wings to paws as a lightning bolt went up her spine. It sent a shock of pure pleasure through her, along with a single command.

Obey.

Another shock, another, another, each one wracking her and leaving her almost glad that her beak was pinned shut; anything less would have risked her biting off her tongue from the intense shocks.

She had never felt like this. The great dives from the sky, the exhilaration of every race, the pleasure of claiming her erotic prizes from the losers that she beat every single time: it didn’t compare to this. The invasive, violating feeling of that thing in her ass faded, replaced and hammered out with the –

Shock, shock, shock. She came, her pussy spasming against the other roots, her toes and talons curling and popping from how powerful it was. Her brain almost felt like it was frying, her fears and anger burned away with each shock of pleasure.

Feel good.

Shock.

Forget.

Shock.

Feel good.

Shock.

Forget.

The constant pulses up and down her spine almost masked the feeling of something else coming out of the tendril inside of her. She didn’t even feel it at first. It was so small and slight that she doubted that anyone would have blamed her for missing it. Yet, as soon as the shocks had a slight break, it took over. She felt it like a feather, tickling her inner walls, teasing them, rubbing them, almost like it was testing if she was some sort of good girl.

Gilda whimpered, no longer squeezing, her eyes half-lidded as she stared forward into the darkness. Thoughts of resistance were gone; the pleasure was more effective than pain ever would have been. She couldn’t even think of anger anymore. All she wanted…

Tingle. Tingle. The tingles were nothing like the shocks of pleasure. She wanted more of the intensity, the adrenaline junkie needing something more than just the little, feathery touches that the new thing was doing inside of her. She would have whimpered if she had the energy. As it was, she just offered her rump to the thing beneath her.

More, she thought, the only thought that she was capable of. More, more, more, more, more –

You are host. You will get what you deserve.

Gilda shivered at that thought. She didn’t think that she could get something like that from anyone else; no other partner had ever come close to the mind-shattering, utterly breaking pleasure that the thing inside of her had given. She didn’t even know what it was; all she knew was that it made her feel good in a way that she couldn’t live without. She needed it again – as soon as possible.

Host…when…

When we decide.

It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted it now, needed it that instant, but the little bit of Gilda that was left understood that it was impossible to force it. The thing behind her, under her, was too powerful. It would do what it wanted when it wanted, and the only way that she would ever get what she needed…was to give up.

Submit.

Be loyal.

Be host.

Her mind was too frazzled to see the flaws in the plan. Her thoughts were too far gone to point out the flaws of that particular understanding. So, when she gave in, she gave in totally, utterly, and when the parasite reached her spine and began the pleasurable process of taking over, she threw herself behind it with all the loyalty of a complete zealot.

Take me. Take me. Take me.

Gilda was ‘rewarded’ with more of the flashes of pleasure. An orgasm that was nearly a minute long, rolling up and down her spine as her body was rendered completely inert from the high-pleasure stimulation, rocked her to her core. The pleasure left her completely insensate, and the parasite took advantage. She felt it take her, felt the warmth of its control running down each limb, through her wings, out through her tufted tail. Every inch of her felt the power of the parasite, the control, the management.

The griffon was no longer herself. She was a host. And she was rewarded again…and again…and again…

At the end of it all, she was released. Gilda-Drone had instructions: remain with Rainbow-Drone until departure from Ponyville, ensure the total conversion of the remaining uninfested Wonderbolts, then take a sapling of the Nest with her to Griffonstone to begin the conversion. It would be slower with one host to start, but Gilda was already considered something of a loner there. She would not be suspicious for having something that the rest would consider a new hobby and nothing more.

The Nest would grow.

She would be a good host.

She would have all the pleasure that she needed.

The addict was happy with that. She stepped away from the root system, her body as steady as if she hadn’t just spent the last six hours being conditioned and warped, and joined Rainbow-Drone in the slow trot out from the basement of the library. There was, as always, more to do.

Chapter 26

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Rainbow-Drone, as well as Rarity-Drone, Applejack-Drone, Pinkie-Drone, Fluttershy-Drone, and Twilight-Drone, was hooked up to the Nest. The crisscrossing mesh of roots and lines between the different Nest trees meant that it no longer mattered which of the trees they were connected to. The two full-grown Nests of Ponyville were able to share whatever information they wanted, and in the case of the one at Sweet Apple Acres, the two connected roots that it shared with the hospital Nest was enough to carry information into the network. Not as quickly, not from as many hosts at once, but enough for this.

Rainbow-Drone stared straight ahead as the host kept her hips and rump pressed flush against the trunk of the tree. The roots were only partially used these days; ever since the tree had evolved and the Nest had merged with it, the tendrils that emerged from the tree itself were sufficient to link with the Nest and get this done. She could feel the little tickling sensation of leaves against her hole, the smaller vines pulling the lips of her rim aside to allow a thicker thing inside, and –

Pulse.

The pleasure that had once rocked her world had turned into something almost routine. No less powerful, and no less needed, but without the same shocking feeling that it had been during her infestation. The host’s body reacted, oozing down her hind legs and puddling between her hooves, but that was as far as it went. The tell-tale muscle twitches of an orgasm were long-gone, and the need that had resulted in shaking and the desire to push back had been buried beneath the power of the parasite and the greater Nest.

The time had come, the host was realizing, for the Nest to expand. The plans were being pushed into its brain, some images coming through as they were implanted.

Cadance on the road, stopping and leaving connecting saplings for an eventual network all the way to the Crystal Empire.

Mayor Mare on a vacation trip to some other town, bringing with her a sapling to start a ‘garden’ that would slowly grow to incorporate others that had also retired there.

An expansion of the Cake business, spreading with the trading efforts of the Apple family, bringing drugged food all through the land of Equestria.

But that was just the start. Their expansions had to go further, embed more deeply, if they were ever going to have a chance against the princesses that ran the day and night. If they were ever to have a chance against Celestia and Luna, they would need a great deal more to make it happen.

Rainbow-Drone stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but the pulsing images that popped into the host’s head. There were other echoes, things that were being sent to the other mares that had used the Elements of Harmony. She could feel the echoes of them, knew that they were going to be sent out to different places.

A cloud of dust, warm and bright, with the sun setting a brilliant orange and setting the whole place afire with its glittering colors. Appleloosa, with the herds of pony and more to be claimed.

A city, skyscrapers, clawing at the heavens, with ponies that were civilized and well-mannered, but quick and brusque at the same time.

A rocky place, home to few, but those few being strong and quiet, a perfect place for a small cult of the Nest.

A forest, climbing high, filled with strange creatures that needed to either be dealt with or brought under the Nest properly.

And then it came to her. Rainbow-Drone stiffened ever so slightly as the information pulsed hotter up her spine, going from that connection point to her skull in record time. The hotter exchange burned in her, making her insides clench down, pulling on it as if her asshole might milk the tendril for more information more quickly. Impossible, of course, but biology was what it was, even with the power of the parasite.

A city in the clouds floating over Equestria, a place where the Pegasi held power and few others were allowed. A place where Rainbow-Drone was welcome, a place that meant home for her. A place where she was a celebrity for being on the Wonderbolts.

That was her place.

That was where she would be sent to accomplish the needs of the Nest.

Rainbow-Drone did not nod, nor did she feel any sense of pride for being given an assignment that was likely key to the Nest’s gradual takeover. Having the power of Cloudsdale on the side of the Nest meant that the weather of Equestria would be more or less in the hands of the parasites. They would be able to turn the weather of the entire kingdom around if they so chose. Sun, rain, whatever they wanted would be the weather of the day, and it would keep the rest of the kingdom from moving as easily.

War, if it came to that, would be much more easily won with Cloudsdale subdued. The Nest did not want that, but it would plan for it. Having Shining Armor as a host had filled it with the knowledge of battle and combat, and tactics were as much part of the Nest’s knowledge now as the need to infest hosts.

Rainbow-Drone, just like the others, would be given a sapling to take with her. Cloudsdale would be harder to find a place to plant it, but as it was kept in the sky rather than on the ground, that sapling would have a specific advantage once she managed to find a place to put it. Unlike the earth, which took time to burrow through, the Nest would be able to dig through cloud at speed. They could reach out and infest faster than in other others, and hide more easily when it came down to it.

All she had to do was find a place to put it. Once she’d accomplished that rather hard task, the rest would come easily.

The Nest pulsed a rewarding blast of pleasure up the host’s spine, reducing any further independent thought to a quivering mess. Rainbow-Drone drooled between her hind legs, her anus squeezing around the tendril all the harder. Even the parasite had felt that little blast through the host, and it was good.

The tendril pulled out slowly, and the blue pegasus stood there as it processed the last of the information. When it was completely settled, the host took a step forward. The soft cramping feeling of being in one place for so long faded away after a few more, and the soft tingle of resting its rump against the wall for nearly two hours disappeared shortly after.

Two other ponies – Twilight-Drone and Pinkie-Drone – also disengaged with the Nest. The pink mare looked more dead than the rest of them with the emptiness in her eyes. The life that had filled it before, the constant party and joy, was well and truly gone. There was nothing but the stare of a creature that had been broken to the needs of a greater mind. Though there was no issue with pretending otherwise in public, the emptiness there would have been disturbing to any non-host.

Thankfully, they were all hosts. There was nothing but familiarity to them there; they all had the same look.

Rainbow-Drone turned to Twilight-Drone.

“Your host is not assigned?”

“This host stays.”

“You are still damaged?”

“The recovery is almost complete, but that is not why this host is staying. This host is staying because it has been told to stay.”

Rainbow-Drone understood. The question had come less out of concern or curiosity, and more whether it had missed something. If the Nest had orders for Twilight-Drone to stay in Ponyville, then the Nest knew best. No further questions were needed.

As for the other hosts, Rainbow-Drone knew that they would be disconnecting elsewhere. Rarity-Drone and Fluttershy-Drone were at the hospital Nest, likely being treated for their trips to Manehattan and the Everfree Forest. Both would require some extra bit of work to get there, the former needing some medical papers to ensure that you were healthy on arrival, the latter needing medical supplies even for an experienced person to get through. They would be fine, however.

Applejack-Drone would be disconnecting on the farm, likely getting ready to pack for a train trip to Appleloosa. The rest of the family would stay busy with expanding the businesses of the Cake bakers – and likely the other bakers in town, for that matter – so that they could spread the drugged food across Equestria. The infected baked goods wouldn’t have the same potency that they had in-town while fresh, but they would at least give the food a different taste, perhaps driving a little additional tourism to get such food when it was at its best, and at the very least, pushing other ponies to prefer it over the other baked goods in their town.

Then, when the Nest started expanding with new hosts that used the Cake recipe –

Rainbow-Drone hadn’t realized that was part of the plan, but as the parasite rolled through it, preparing for departure, it found that and other little tidbits tucked into its mind. There were a hundred little details that were not pertinent to its own duties that it had been given for context, but which didn’t come up until it was needed. The Nest made sure that they were equipped with all that they needed to know, but ensured that it wouldn’t be distracting until it was called for.

Just as it should be.

Leaving the basement, Rainbow-Drone felt a twinge that tugged her head to one side. She found herself looking at Gilda-Drone, waiting a few paces from the basement door. The griffon gave her a sharp, teasing look, and the rest of the plan unfolded.

Gilda-Drone would come along for the journey to Cloudsdale. The purpose would become clear on the journey.

“Heh, going my way?” Gilda-Drone asked, dropping into her more ‘public’ voice as she fell in step behind the mare.

“Heh, I think you’re going mine.”

“Hey, Rain-Butt, you’re walking with me, not the other way around.”

Was it needed to do this in the library? Probably not, considering the sheer number of hosts around them, but there was always the chance one of the increasingly-shrinking numbers of ‘free’ ponies had come in for the day. For all that the library was considered one of the safe spaces for the infested, it was best not to take risks that would put the whole Nest in jeapordy.

They walked out of the library together, making small-talk as they rounded the building. The commands of the Nest led them right to the pre-prepared saplings. Though they were unmarked in their little pots, the Nest had made it clear which one was hers. Rainbow-Drone picked it out without hesitation, dragging it back with a rope wrapped around the pot. The rope that she used for the pulling dragged at the corner of her mouth a bit, but it was nothing that the host couldn’t ignore.

Pulling it down the road, the host walked in silence. Gilda-Drone didn’t have to say anything; without someone to talk to, the other host could be quiet and aloof and nobody would question it. Both of them liked the silence as they made their way through Ponyville to the far side where the landing strips for pegasi were kept.

Yet, in that silence, they also observed the continuing changes. The library incident, as it had come to be called, continued to drive uninfested ponies to their check-ins at different places in town. Those that went in to be infested came out completely changed, though without the signs that others would pick up on. Those that were considered less-valuable targets were drugged, instead, and came out loopy, feeding into the suspicion that there was something wrong with them or with the town.

And at the same time, Dapper-Drone was getting all the credit as mayor for making the hard decisions to keep things shut down while the town was ‘cared for.’ The public meeting places, the restaurants, everything was closed. And while ponies were not entirely happy, Rainbow-Drone had heard them say that it was a relief to not have to worry about catching whatever was in the air from the library.

It also meant that they didn’t have a chance to interact, socialize, or see what might have happened to some of the drones while the new hosts were recovering from the infestation. Treatment and isolation combined to create a constant cycle of new hosts that were never going to be discovered.

The plan was working.

Gilda-Drone and Rainbow-Drone finally arrived, and the rest of the Wonderbolts were waiting for them. Spitfire and Soarin, in particular, were tapping their hooves impatiently for take-off.

“What the heck is that?” Spitfire asked, gesturing at the tree pot.

“It’s a gift,” Rainbow-Drone said, spitting out the rope. “Thought I’d bring it home with me.”

“Oh, hell. You think that you can keep up with that thing weighing you down?”

“Hey, I’ve been training with sandbags while you have been training with nothing. You think this weighs half that much?”

“Heh, well, can you keep it balanced?” Soarin asked.

“If I get a little help, yeah. Just gotta lash it down.”

“Ugh. I hate delays,” Spitfire muttered. “Alright, Dash. If you can get it secured in five minutes, you can bring it with you. If not, it stays here. Understood?”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Then get to it.”

The rope-work had been slapdash, but it held together long enough for that first flight to go over without a hitch. They reached their campsite a few hundred miles away, and despite the host’s tiredness, Rainbow-Drone had managed to keep up with the rest of the Wonderbolts. Not without a little bit of struggle on the part of the host, though, and not without Spitfire throwing her some testing moments, either.

The host managed not to pant as she joined the rest of the Wonderbolts around the campfire that Spitfire started almost as soon as she hit the ground. The other blue-uniformed ponies looked at her with a mix of surprise and respect as she stumbled over to the campfire.

“Color me impressed,” Spitfire said, shaking her head. “I thought for sure that you’d have to drop that thing.”

“Heh…I don’t quit.”

“Yeah, obviously,” the head of the team said, shaking her head. “Damn. Looks like you’re still worth it, Dashie.”

“Heh, three cheers for Dashie!” Soarin called.

As the rest of the team applauded, the host hyped up her own reactions, posing and bowing her head repeatedly to all the praise. Gilda-Drone groaned, rolling her eyes as she sat down in front of the fire. The griffon looked around, and another little detail unlocked itself in Rainbow-Drone’s head.

Distract. Entice. Hold attention.

It was unlikely that they would have the chance to fully infest someone while they were on the road; the sapling didn’t have a full capability to create parasites just yet, and a sudden change would be noticeable in any pony that was partially programmed. The Wonderbolts had performed together too long to not notice something happening. The only reason Rainbow-Drone had gone undetected so far was due to the fact that she had to fulfill other duties beyond just performing. She wasn’t at every single practice as a result, and that meant that she could have a few quirks that the others just let pass.

Soarin or Spitfire, on the other hand, would have even the slightest tweak noticed almost immediately. She’d have to start slow, working them up to a point of infestation when they got back to Cloudsdale. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t do something before that.

Gilda-Drone was already making the moves on some of the other ponies present. The mares and the stallions alike got attention, including Spitfire, but the main point wasn’t to seduce any specific pony. It was to keep the rest of the team distracted while Rainbow-Drone did what she needed to do.

Shucking off the plant and setting it down by the fire, she turned her attention to Soarin. The blue-white pegasus was staring at Gilda-Drone as she flaunted herself, his horny eyes going right to her plump rump, when Rainbow-Drone nudged him from the side.

“I need to take a little walk. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Oh, uh, I mean – aw…”

In his moment of distraction, Soarin had lost his chance. Gilda had spread her wings out around two of the other stallions on the team, whispering naughty things in their ears while flaunting her rump more in Spitfire’s direction. Even if the others were still competing, he had lost the chance to be part of the competition.

“Sure. I could use a walk.”

They left the fireside, initially in the direction of the road that led out from Ponyville to one of a dozen different towns before Cloudsdale, but then toward some of the greenery in the shadowy darkness outside of the campfire light. Rainbow-Drone flashed a naughty smile, encouraged by the parasite and its knowledge of what she’d picked up from Soarin before.

“So, miss flying behind me today?” Rainbow-Drone asked.

“Huh? I’m always flying ahead of you.”

“Not when I’m flying in practice. Think I don’t see you staring at my ass all the time?”

“Heh, you noticed that?”

“You’re staring at me more than at one of Applejack’s apple pies.”

“Hey. Nothing beats apple pies.”

“Except Rainbow-‘cake’, eh?”

She cocked her hips to the side, all but cracking her tail like a whip. The moonlight was barely enough to let him see anything, she knew, but she could feel his eyes under her tail, glued to her sex and her rim. Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed it. The host sputtered with a bitten-off chuckle, pretending amusement.

“Just like I thought. That’s why you keep flying behind. You want to perv on my ass, don’t you?”

“Well, um, I – okay, okay, you caught me on that one. But can you blame me? It looks so good.”

“Heh, I know. Best butt in the team.”

“Better than Spitfire’s…”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that…but thanks. Maybe I’ll let you get a closer look in a bit.”

“Wha – holy – are you…are you flirting with me, Dashie?”

“Maaaaybe. Or maybe I’m just being a real tease. Maybe if you don’t stand up for yourself a little, you won’t get anything.”

It was a bit of a gamble, a means of finding out what he wanted and how it would go to try and seduce him. There wasn’t much known about him; he might be more of a top that needed to be teased into it, or he might be something more submissive, someone that needed to be encouraged and ordered around.

Either way, the drone would be getting him to taste her tonight, and once he got drunk a few times on infested fluids, she had no doubt that he’d be addicted to the need that it gave him. She’d have him coming ‘round all the time back in Cloudsdale, and it wouldn’t take long before he would do what he was told, even uninfested. That arousal, that desperation that only came from the infested piss and arousal fluids, would drive him crazy if he decided to try and quit her.

They’d just rounded a tree – a good place to use as an excuse for a piss-break – when he leaned under her tail. Rainbow-Drone pretended to be surprised, ‘yelping’ and biting off the sound when he stuck out his tongue and ground it against her sex.

“Ah! Mmmph…not wasting any time…are you?”

“Heh, well…you invited me…Told me to just –”

“Stop talking – mmmph – and keep licking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He dug his tongue in obediently, shoving it past her pussy lips and going deep. The host body was already responding with arousal from being tasted, but the parasite was pushing it further, making her completely drenched back there. No holding back, no hint of doubt that she was getting into it. The whole point was to make Soarin feel like a real stud, to encourage him and get him completely drunk on her juices.

The slicker she got, the better it worked.

It didn’t take long before Soarin was moaning behind her, the sound muffled between her hind legs as she kept up the act of being completely in thrall to how ‘good’ his tongue was. He worked it in deep, one forehoof against her hips, and she lifted her front legs to brace against the tree. That let him get in deeper, and while the host was enjoying it, it wasn’t so good as the parasite acted out that it was.

“Yeah…mmmph…get in…get in there…”

The soft moans that were coming from her lips would have embarrassed the host at one point, but now, they were just part of the act. Thrust her hips back, rolling her pussy against his tongue, grinding him deeper inside. Yes, there, have him lick there, make him lick through all the juices that were, by now, running down his chin. They were plentiful, thick, and heavy with the potent power of the infected.

He moaned as he kissed her clit, slowly transitioning from thrusting his tongue inside of her to slowly licking from her clit up to her asshole. Each long lick drew more of her fluids from her, and he seemed to have no inclination to do anything but swallow it down. She pressed against him, all but swallowing his head between her cheeks, and he didn’t protest. Not even a hint of it.

The smell in the air was thick with the scent of mare cunt, but she could just about smell the musk of a stallion’s shaft, too. He had dropped, then, his body giving into the urges that her juices were giving him. She risked looking over her shoulder.

Soarin himself was barely standing, his eyes glazed over as he licked almost mechanically between her hind legs. Each lap against her sex was still just as good as it had been, but the pressure and need behind it was lacking. He was going limp, wobbling more and more with each lick.

It was time.

One little buck of her hips shoved him backward. He hit the ground and rolled, the soft greenery that lined the earth keeping him from making much noise. He groaned, chuckling quietly, his head rolling around as he tried to keep his eyes on her.

“Nnngh…what…what was that…for?”

“Quiet.”

She shushed him, though her face had long since lost the pretense of a proper expression. She trotted over him, looking down at his face, and – with all the technical precision of something that felt nothing for what they were doing – aimed her hips.

Then, she sat.

The soft squelch of her still-dripping sex meeting his face was enough to hear, but hopefully not enough to spread. The further-off sounds of grunts and partying going on back at the campfire should hide what they were doing for the most part, but Rainbow-Drone still wanted to act quickly.

“You’re going to drink something special today, Soarin,” she said, her voice completely at odds with her face. She sounded as seductive as any experienced mare, but her face was devoid of emotion. Nothing but emptiness crossed her slack muzzle. “You’re going to drink my piss.”

“Wha – mmmph – Nnngh…”

He didn’t have a chance to protest. The pussy juices were better for sheer potency, but even the parasite had a limit of how much it could make at once, and there was far more of the urine stream. Weaker it might be, but there was so much more, and it came out far, far faster than the alternative.

The parasite’s control of the host’s body was perfect. It sent a signal up the spine, which the brain acknowledged. The brain then sent a signal back, pulsing through the nerves right down to the bladder. The muscles around it spasmed, pulled tight, and then began the controlled, rhythmic, consistent squeeze that pushed all the contents down.

It happened in the space of a mere couple of seconds, and by the end of it, a muted hiss was barely audible over the soft grunts and complaints coming from beneath her. Rainbow-Drone straddled his face, pissing down his throat, his mouth wide open and unable to be closed without help at this point. The fluids that she’d dripped into him would keep him more or less catatonic for a while.

Pulse.

The host was rewarded with pleasure for trapping the new victim. He didn’t have a chance to get away from her; all he could do was stay there, on his back with his mouth open, his cock throbbing helplessly against his belly as he swallowed the infected urine pouring from her. His eyes were blank, completely glazed over, and she imagined that what little consciousness he had was probably more focused on the best pleasure-high that he’d ever had rather than the fact that he’d been completely overwhelmed by her.

The parasite completely emptied their bladder into the stallion, making him drink the infected stuff until there was nothing left. Just as the last few droplets played over his tongue, his cock jumped, and Rainbow-Drone felt the splatter, squish, splatter of a male’s seed hitting her rump.

Looking back, she could see the ‘frosted’ effect on her rump cheeks, and supposed that was actually a good thing. The whole ‘absconding to the forest’ for pleasure wasn’t going to be that believable if she didn’t have at least a little bit of a ‘mark of shame.’ It worked out well that she’d gotten it now.

Soarin, however…

The host stood up, and the stallion remained where he was, his mouth hanging open and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He was completely insensate.

As the parasite reevaluated what Soarin could and couldn’t take, it also made plans. It could to back to the campfire in a few moments, get some water with the excuse that Soarin wasn’t quite up to Dashie’s standards, and spread a bit of good-natured teasing among the rest of the team. That, in turn, would make some of the other members of the team curious what her standards were and more likely to try and initiate something on their own. Spitfire would likely be a little jealous, as far as Rainbow Dash’s memories showed, and that would lead to a potential future confrontation between them.

It was all understandable, all easy to plan for. All she had to do was keep on the same track that she was already on.

Rainbow-Drone stepped away from the catatonic future addict, making her way back to the campfire. Unsurprisingly, Gilda-Drone was well-frosted as well, her sex and her pucker completely drenched. Spitfire remained where they’d left her, rolling her eyes and seated by the fire.

“Where’s Soarin?” she asked.

“Couldn’t keep up,” Rainbow-Drone said, chuckling. “Need some water for him before he can go a second round.”

“Wait. You two –”

“Yup.”

“And he –”

“Yup.”

“And you –”

“Oh, yeah.”

“…That boy still needs so much training.”

“In so many ways, but I think I can train him for this. I know what I’m doing, heh,” Rainbow-Drone said, rooting through the gear until she found where the water bottles were kept. “I’ll be back in an hour. I think he’s good for that much more.”

“…Just make sure that you get some sleep tonight. We’re starting early tomorrow.”

The rest of the trip went in similar fashion. The journey to Cloudsdale took a total of five days, and each night, something different happened.

The first night, she took Soarin off the beaten track again and got him used to taking her piss in doses. Small ones, making him feel high and a bit drunk, but not completely out of it. The parasite tested his tolerance to it, making sure that he never got more than he could handle; the day’s flight had been rather interrupted due to his lack of real sleep and the way that he hadn’t been at peak performance, and that couldn’t be repeated.

The second night, she allowed some of the other males to watch as Soarin got a good drink and then rutted her hard from behind. Rainbow-Drone let the pleasure show on her face, but it was something that she kept a little muted. Despite that, some of the other stallions were watching her with some obvious want and need, and they weren’t missing the way that Soarin had better stamina after sucking down her ‘juices.’ The aphrodisiac high meant that he had more staying power, and perhaps a little thicker erection.

Gilda-Drone was busy both of those nights, too. The Wonderbolts had the same low-level rivalry with griffons as most other pegasi did, and having a griffon that was more than willing to submit herself to their pleasures was something that they didn’t get enough of. Mare or stallion, they were more than willing to take their fun with her and damn the consequences.

The only one that didn’t participate in the orgiastic pleasure was Spitfire. At least, not until the fourth night, and that night was…interesting.

She took Soarin before Rainbow-Drone could get her hooves on him, leading him off to the side, but not quite out of view. He had the chance to eat her out, enjoying it well enough, but the way that he fucked her was…lackluster. The rest of the team noticed, and some muttered about whether he had found a new favorite in Rainbow Dash.

The other males, however, were not left out. Rainbow-Drone picked one of them at random and let him start getting a taste of her from behind. No time to piss down his throat and properly addict him, though; that was best saved for moments out of sight. But the infected pussy juice did well enough, keeping him all riled up and needy, and he humped her harder than Soarin did to Spitfire.

Others might have found their display rather…overly indulgent, but for the Wonderbolts, post-event celebrations were a thing. Usually, Dashie was the one that was begging off from them, but with the parasite forcing her to have confidence, she was running it. There was nothing that they could do to slow her down.

And by the time that they reached Cloudsdale on the fifth day, they were tired for far more lewd reasons than the trip usually entailed. Spitfire dismissed them to the barracks, and she told Rainbow-Drone in no uncertain terms to take some time off and ‘work whatever this is out of your system before the next practice.’

That was fine for her. That’d give her a week to spend with a few different ponies in Cloudsdale while she looked for a place to put the sapling. One way or another, she was going to have a little ‘fan club’ by the end of the week, and that group was going to be the perfect seeding ground for new hosts.

And from there…well, once the Wonderbolts were fully infested, the Nest would have a chance to start hosting real events to gather more ponies for its use. The Wonderbolts did, after all, have a massive fan-base.

Chapter 27

View Online

The sapling hadn’t grown much during its time in transit to the Crystal Empire, but once it was planted at the palace, it grew. Not swiftly, not powerfully, as it didn’t have the same rich soil as Ponyville did, but swiftly enough to be able to begin the infestation a week after it was shifted from pot to earth. It grew to three times Cadance-Drone’s height in that time, and the few ponies that questioned the strange plant were the first ones to be brought before it to be infested.

Cadance-Drone stood with her rump pressed flush against the protruding tendril that stuck from the middle of the tree trunk. It was differently made than the other Nests that she had seen, lacking the same powerful, multi-pronged structure that allowed it to interface with more ponies at once. Instead, it had a single prong, using all its other roots to remain in the soil. The effort it took for this Nest to grow and spread, requiring more time and focus, meant that it had to take ponies one at a time. It had already adapted to a different style than the ones back in Ponyville, and it was thriving.

Of course, that was only possible because Cadance-Drone was a Nexus-host. That was what was receiving the information in her as much as the parasite that controlled the host, and that…that was getting used regularly.

The pulses of information in and out of the Nexus in her womb was pleasurable, though not so intense as the feeling of direct stimulation that she occasionally received from her ass. The Nest was more in communication, downloading and uploading as it went.

As a Nexus-host, Cadance-Drone was given information and objectives, but not necessarily orders. The Nexus was trusted to make decisions on the part of the Nest, almost like a detached part of it, so orders were an impediment. It was to translate the objectives, then take those orders and programs out to the rest of the hosts, controlling them and passing it down.

It was a multi-tiered system, something that was more complicated but far more flexible than the Ponyville system. They could move and weave around with greater ease rather than requiring the hosts to come and sync up with a Nest every week.

Of course, a flexible chain could still be broken, but with all the higher-ups of the Crystal Empire already infested, that chain was as secure as it could be. From there, it was only a matter of time until the rest of the country was completely infested. Cadance-Drone was patient; she would take the time that it needed to ensure the country received everything that it needed to be one with the Nest.

She took the pleasurable pulsing of orders received and clarification requests. In, out, in, out, the pulses almost like sexual thrusts as they continued. She did not moan, did not make a sound, nor did she push her hips back the way that she had once done as a younger, free mare in sex. She just stared toward the far end of the private garden, as still as the crystals that lingered on the pillars around her.

The orders were clear: continue infestation, monitor for outside threats, find ways of building up for the Canterlot invasion. Those were the primary goals of the Nest, and they were…flexible, vague, things that she would find ways to fulfill in her own way.

Simple.

Easy.

The Nest saw through her eyes as Shining-Drone walked around one of the pillars. It retracted from her, pulling from her vagina and anus at the same time. The pleasure disappeared, but the Nexus-host barely noticed. Once it was gone, it was almost as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Updates?” she asked.

“Full day. Crimson-Host has more information.”

“Worth linking?”

“No.”

“Replace this host.”

Cadance-Drone stepped out of the way, and her host’s husband took her place. The sight of the male turning around, his tail lifted as submissively and efficiently as possible, might have been arousing to the Nexus-host at one point. It certainly would have been something interesting to see, considering Shining-Drone’s reputation.

Instead, it had become as dull as anything else was. There was no excitement save in the service of the Nest, and to see another pony with their tail raised and their holes exposed meant nothing if they were already infested. A ‘free’ pony’s holes were a different matter, considering the possibility of getting something inside of them, but even that was not the same as the excitement that had once coursed through her body.

Yet, for all that there was a lack, the Nexus-host didn’t miss it. She wasn’t sure that it was possible to miss something that you could no longer crave or feel.

She turned away from Shining-Drone, walking through the private garden only in use by the royals and their direct – and now, infested – servants. The walls were lined with amethyst crystal, the ground tilled and well-cultivated with grasses and soft flowers. Even they were grown of the same crystal that touched everything in this land, but that was a beauty that had long since ceased to matter for Cadance-Drone.

The room, only accessible through a single door and a hole in the roof – and said hole was so high off the ground that there was no way for any non-winged pony to reach it – was a quiet place. There was no better spot to keep the Nest-tree, and from here, it would eventually reach through much of the capital city, and from there, to the root lines of the Nest-trees that were planted at the telegraph nodes along the way.

The Nest is spreading, and it will take everything, Cadance-Drone thought as she walked out of the garden and into the stone-walled halls of the palace. The Nest will be the great ruler that we never had. The Nest will guide us. The Nest will understand true harmony and order.

That was what she had been promised.

That was what she had been guaranteed.

The Nest would keep its promises.

Outside of the garden, it was always important for a host – particularly her – to keep up an act of being ‘free.’ While the Crystal Ponies weren’t so sensitive to the changes of the Nest as they were to the changes that Sombra had brought about, they were a skittish bunch compared to more ‘normal’ ponies across the rest of Equestria. They were suspicious, scared, and the last thing that she needed to do was make them feel like they were right to be scared of her. The love that the once-free princess had given to the Crystal Heart had bought her a great deal of good will, but the victims of tyrants would ever be suspicious of people in power.

So, she put on her smile. A little bit too much, at first, and the parasite compared it to the past muscle memory and pulled it back a bit. Soft, gentle, a sort of regal thing that never had to grow that large in public. In private, with friends, it could be larger, more intense, but for the public, soft, a little quirk, nothing more. More memories, more adjustments: the soft lidding of the eyes, keeping them two-thirds open rather than wide-eyed, the adjustment to her gait to be slow and lingering rather than quick and efficient, and the way that Cadance was supposed to shift her head from side to side, taking in different sights as she walked about the palace were all behaviors that the drone needed to keep in mind.

It was a long, long list, but the Nexus-host was equipped to handle that. She would pass among the Crystal Ponies with ease, as she had already done for weeks.

She was stopped outside of the throne room by Crimson Ice, the butler that she and Shining-Drone had accepted from the Crystal Ponies upon their ascension to the throne. Smaller than her by about a third, the stallion bowed his head. Made of a red crystal that was as living as flesh and blood, the Crystal Pony ‘wore’ a pattern of black and white across his neck and along his back, almost like a little tuxedo.

He was also another host, brought into the circle as soon as Cadance-Drone had been able to manage it. The last thing that they needed was their actual staff stumbling onto the Nest and understanding what it was. That would start an uproar that would be very, very hard to quell.

“Your Majesty,” Crimson Ice said, rising from his bow. “It is good to see you emerge from the garden. Your subjects are waiting.”

Translation: The Nest is taking some time. There are others waiting, and they are not feeling patient.

“As much as I love the garden, Crimson, it’s a little stifling. I just couldn’t keep my subjects waiting.”

The Nest had orders; there were many things to learn. The subjects will have to keep waiting.

“Understandable, Majesty, but please, do think of them. My people are very happy to have someone that cares for them, but that only goes so far, you know?”

To keep the loyalty of the ponies, one must ensure that they do not feel ignored. Isolation hurts the illusion.

“We can only try, heh. Now, is there anything important?”

“Indeed, but not for public ears, Majesty. If you will follow me?”

We must sync.

Cadance-Drone nodded, and Crimson-Drone led her away from the great doors of the throne room down a side hallway. There were many such places in the palace; what had been made for great space and accommodation also worked well for the purposes of secrecy and privacy, as far as the Nest was concerned.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the two ponies – one much larger than the other – turned to face away from one another. They backed up, their rumps brushing against each other as Cadance-Drone lowered her hips, and the tendrils of the Nexus pushed out.

They touched together, several different tendrils pushing out of her sex. The Nexus was still mutating her, changing her, and eventually there would be tendrils that could extend from the other hole, but for now, it was solely from her sex. She pushed back, the two thickest tendrils rubbing around Crimson-Drone’s asshole for a moment before one of them managed to slide right into place.

Cadance-Drone pushed her hips back. The shorter, slightly stubby lengths of her tendrils meant that they had to stand rump to rump to make sure that it could go deep enough to make the connection, but when it did –

Zap.

The pair of them stood stock-still, both hosts locked in place as their muscles seized up and the electrical current of information transfer rippled through them. Pulse, pulse, pulse: the pleasure was enough to get Cadance-Drone wet and Crimson-Drone erect, the pair of them reacting as their bodies were forced into arousal by the intense stimulation dancing up and down their spines.

Pulse.

The petitioners in the throne room today included many different Crystal Ponies, most of them looking for a means of connecting to the old traditions that the population of the Crystal Empire used to have. They ranged far and wide, but the most useful – and pushy – of the bunch would be one called Diamond Swirl.

Pulse.

Diamond Swirl was a mare of shimmering white persuasion, coming from the more physical mares of the land. She was here to demand funding for something, probably something more violent than the other traditions that the rest of the ponies were interested in. She was an outsider, someone that the rest of the petitioners were not paying attention to.

Cadance-Drone stopped the information flow for a moment. The Nexus made a decision, and the flow of pulsing pleasure went the other way.

A small piece of the host’s mind noticed that their rumps were not soft, not giving as they pressed against each other, but rather tense instead. Tense, and hard, almost uncomfortable to be pushing back against considering just how firm they had become. There was none of the soft cushion of a relaxed rump, or the usual pleasure of being ass to ass with someone that she had shared a toy with in the past.

The realization faded away as Cadance-Drone dispensed orders from the Nexus. The stallion grinding back against her stiffened harder, the soft ‘chink chink’ of his crystal shaft tapping his crystal belly the only sound in the room.

Follow Diamond Swirl. Have her brought back to the palace after her petition and install her in a room. Attend to her. Drug her. Prepare her for infestation.

The outsider-nature of the mare would suit her as a possible victim. Someone that was ignored by the rest of the population wouldn’t be missed during the integration phase, and if she had a thing that she needed funded, that would leave her more willing to stay during the negotiation phase. Whatever it was that she wanted from the royal throne, she was here to beg for it, which meant that she was desperate.

Leverage: it was always useful.

The Nexus’s orders crept through the other pony’s spine and up to his mind. It was slower, less firm than the orders of the Nest, but no less ruthless and persistent. The Nexus-host continued to repeat the orders, driving them home again, and again, and again.

Follow. Install. Attend. Drug. Prepare.

The order echoed down their spines, and by the time Cadance-Drone had the confirmation that they’d been understood, her body was already requiring some attention. It was something that the parasite could ignore, however.

What else?

There was very little else, it seemed. The other ponies had been quite open about their petition plans, while Diamond Swirl had been keeping hers close to the chest. It would be a mystery until that one opened her mouth.

The others, it seemed, were more boring. Public farms for the mini-ewes, farming plans, and more were the usual talks, and it seemed those were back in force. There was nothing particularly of interest or use to the Nest in that, just a reminder of the work that had to be done to maintain their disguise among the public.

And that was not something that any host liked to be reminded of. It was merely something that they had to suffer to serve the Nest.

The slow, pulling feeling of the tendrils coming loose was always less pleasant than the feeling of coming undone from the Nest. When Cadance-Drone disconnected from the Nest-tree, there was always the feeling of something complete being left behind, some comfort of the orders that she had been given. When she disconnected as the Nexus-host, it always felt like there was something lost, some expansion of her own mind that had been taken from her. She missed it every time, and it left her uncomfortable.

Well, as uncomfortable as a host could feel, which was to say, not very.

“Continue your duties,” Cadance said. “And send someone to lick me clean.”

“Understood.”

Crimson-Drone pulled his servile expression back over his face as he left the meeting room. Cadance-Drone remained where she was, the tendrils slowly pulling back into her vagina and leaving her dripping.

Much as the audience chamber was waiting for her, it would be better to take the petitioners with a dry sex. Not that she would be tempted on the throne, but the throne room was less…aired out than other parts of the castle. She would eventually notice her own scent, and so would others.

Best not to leave them wondering.

Eventually, an older mare – one of the infested that had come with her from Canterlot – arrived. She had no expression as soon as she came through the door, and she set to her work with an efficient, but not particularly eager, tongue.

Orgasm was not the desire. Cleanliness was. Cadance-Drone remained still as the talented tongue worked around her outer lips, slowly moving further and further inward until it was clearing the inside of her sex. The soft laps were made in such a way that they didn’t particularly excite her any further, merely taking away the juices that clung to her.

The mare paused, the soft breath of another pony playing over Cadance-Drone’s sex, before a few more licks followed. Another pause, followed by one final lick, and it was done. Clean, scent-less, and proper for a Princess.

There was no need to thank a host, so she did not.

The petitions were just as dull as one could imagine. Some wanted a dispute mediated, others wanted money, and still others just wanted to deliver compliments to the Princess of Love that had done so much for the Crystal Empire. The latter could be pleasant in older times, but even before her infestation, Cadance-Drone had started to lose her appreciation for their compliments. It had never felt like much when she received so many of them.

In a way, there was a weak sense of gratitude for the parasite during the audience hours. For all that there was no feeling, no connection of any real emotion, it at least kept the boredom at bay. The parasite might feel that the requirements were dull and brought less to the Nest’s desires, but at the very least, it did not feel the boredom that Cadance-Drone had felt in the past being subject to such things.

The ponies would step forward, state their purpose, and then she would have to respond. A yes or a no to funds, a resolution to the problem requiring her mediation, and a gracious nod to the compliments were all that were required of her, but it was still so little, so dull.

It would have made her sigh if she did not need to keep up appearances. As it was, the Nexus-host counted the hours until the petitions would be over.

The only bright spot – and that spot was moving up the line far too slowly for her liking – was Diamond Swirl. She could just make out the white Crystal Pony in the line with the others, all but shining in the light of the throne room. That one glimmered from head to hoof, looking like she was almost on fire from the way that her diamond crystal flesh caught the light. It was…enticing, to say the least, and even the parasite within could find itself imagining what that sort of pony would look like as a host. Definitely more engaging than most of the others that they had brought in.

Finally, Diamond Swirl reached the front of the line. Cadance-Drone resisted the urge to sit up a little taller. She would treat it the same as she had treated all the others.

“What may we do for you today?” she asked with the same genteel tone that she had taken with all the others.

“I’m here to get the jousting started again.”

The rest of the ponies in line groaned, looking away. If anything, the room went from comfortable to reeking of second-hand embarrassment.

And for good reason. Cadance-Drone was meant to be the Princess of Love, and here was someone requesting them to shift to a focus on something war-like. Cadance-Drone chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as she looked down at the diamond mare.

“That is an…interesting suggestion. May I ask why jousting?”

“It’s always been a tradition of the Crystal Ponies –”

The rest of the throne room erupted with chuckles and coughs, and Diamond Swirl whipped around. Her smile dropped and she looked positively fierce, her anger lighting up her face as much as her crystal coat lit up the room.

“It was. We have history of that! Twilight Sparkle and the others showed us that as much as anything else that you’ve been begging for. We were jousters, as strong as any knight of Canterlot way back when. And I want to bring that back!”

“Why, perchance?”

Cadance-Drone’s question silenced the giggles and coughs around the room. All the other Crystal Ponies stared at her, curious and a little concerned. Diamond Swirl turned, the Crystal Mare looking her right in the eyes.

“Because…”

“Yes, dear?”

“Because I don’t want us to ever be helpless again.”

“There is no danger of Sombra coming back. My husband and I have banished him, completely.”

“I know, I know, but that’s not the only threat out there. There could be a hundred other bad guys waiting. Discord almost came back, and that would have been horrifying. The dragons could decide that they don’t like us and we’d need something.”

“We are not going to start a new military.”

“But that isn’t what I’m asking. I want…I want us to at least start this as a sport. A real sport. Something where we can study it and be better at it. Even if we never actually fight someone, think about how that would let us show off. We’re running…running under the sun, charging toward someone, showing everyone just how fast we are, how focused we can be. Think of that, think of how we’d glimmer running down the jousting field.”

It was enough to sway some of the others in court, Cadance-Drone thought. She could see a few considering expressions through the throne room as some mares and stallions very much did seem to be imagining it.

It was enough for her, as well. The Nexus had made its decision the moment that the proposal had been brought up; it just needed to justify it.

“I believe that there’s a chance that we can make that happen,” Cadance-Drone said, chuckling.

One could have heard a feather hit the floor. The entire throne room went silent as the Princess of Love announced that she was even considering something so warlike as jousting. Even Diamond Swirl, as hopeful as she had been, had her mouth wide open in shock. Her eyes were swirling slightly, her head slowly shaking.

“Yes, I believe that there’s the possibility that we could bring that back, though under strict supervision, of course.”

“But…but…”

“Majesty, please –”

“What if someone gets the wrong idea –”

“We could look like warmongers.”

“This is a horrible plan.”

“Hey!”

Diamond Swirl spun around on her hooves once more, facing down the entirety of the throne room. Petitioners and palace staff and other nobles alike cowered before her as she hunched her shoulders, glaring at each and every one of them.

“I’m not here to play politics. I came here because of one damn good reason, and the Princess said that she’s willing. It’s a sport. If you worry that much about what everyone else thinks, then maybe you should start thinking about moving there instead of living here. The Crystal Empire has always been the Crystal Empire; we do what we do. Maybe you should start remembering that instead of just trying to hide behind all the happy little rustic bits of history. Once upon a time, we did this.”

And more to the point, Canterlot still did that. Cadance-Drone remembered going to Canterlot and seeing Celestia and Luna host different jousting contests. They were never quite that talented before Shining-Drone started to take charge of their training, but even then, they weren’t that good. Without war, they never had to be, and they didn’t have any real competition outside of their own ranks.

But if she were to sponsor this…

The Nexus-host was already comparing the possibilities to the directives of the Nest. The need to convert and infest was the highest priority, and there were definitely possibilities to do that with a jousting team that was directly sponsored by the throne, but there was another priority order: preparing for the invasion of Canterlot.

Most wouldn’t have thought that a sports team would be something useful for the invasion, but the Nexus-host had more to her than just size. Cadance-Drone had been a skilled diplomat and politician in her previous life, and this was just the sort of thing that she could plan around.

Most embassies to a different capitol were limited in the number of people that they could bring. Themselves, a couple of bodyguards, maybe a guest or two, but that was about it; security demanded that they not strain the resources of the host much further. That meant that the host always had a greater number of people working for them, keeping things safe, than the visitors could bring. Ambush or not, it would be difficult to spring an uprising or an invasion with that sort of number differential.

But if they had a sports-team that they could bring along, a jousting team to put on a show against the best of Celestia’s soldiers, then that was a different story. Even if they could only bring their best, that was an additional squad of soldiers, up to twelve. That would at least double the embassy that she could bring with her to Canterlot, and anything that would start swinging the numbers around to her side was all for the best.

And if they could work out forfeits with Celestia, or privately between the jousters, that would mean that the infested jousters would be able to break the uninfested ones in Canterlot.

It was a wonderful cover, and something that nobody would be expecting. The Nexus-host could take advantage of this.

“Of course, we will have to work out how much we can give, and how much of a team we can make, but that is down to negotiations. Speak to my butler, Crimson Ice, and he’ll take you to a palace room so we can discuss this.”

“You…you’re serious?”

“Very, Diamond Swirl. Very.”

“Oh, Celestia…thank you, thank you!”

“You may thank me later, when we have a deal. But I look forward to making one with you.”

As Diamond Swirl bowed and left the throne room, Cadance-Drone knew that she had pushed her luck about as far as she could push it. The Princess of Love doing this would have been strange, almost too strange, but from a few glances around the throne room, she was pretty sure that she had just about managed to carry it off. It was going to be…difficult…to do anything else risky for a while, but that one wouldn’t be challenged too hard.

Unfortunately, it meant that she was back to the boring petitions after that, and the host braced herself to endure them.

It was moonrise when the petitioners were sent away from the palace. She got up from the throne with a soft – if affected – sigh, and she was met by one of the uninfested Crystal Ponies with a glass of water. She floated it to her lips and took a deep drink of it, the host taking the hydration and clearly feeling thankful for it.

“More, Majesty?” the mare asked.

“No, I’m fine, thank you. But do take care of yourself.”

The mare bowed, trotting away with her tray on her back. Cadance watched her go with a small smile of amusement, shaking her head before trotting out of the throne room herself. It was always a bit touch and go after sitting for so long, but at least it was good for getting the muscles stretched back out for later.

The list of things that still remained to do was long. She still had to talk to some of the ministers – some infested, some not – about the running of the kingdom proper. She had to deal with the residual investigations that she had started before heading to Ponyville to make sure that there were no unknown threats in the Empire and slowly start calling those off. She had to send off messages to Celestia, who was trying to get in touch with her and ask how things were going these days.

It was all a mess of duties and responsibilities, but each one was more required than ever. As one of just a few hosts that directly interacted with the Nest, she had to be as informed as possible whenever they had their sync-up moments. Lacking that, the Nest’s orders would be incomplete, lacking the data that it needed to form proper orders. She had to do her job as the Princess so that the Nest could do its job as the new ruler of the country. It was a hard balance to maintain, and harder still to endure at times.

Yet, at the same time, she knew that it was only a matter of time until that would stop. A few months to build up its forces, and the Nest would be ready to take a shot at Luna and Celestia. Taking Canterlot – and more importantly, taking them – would be the end of any resistance for the pony population of Equestria. There would be no great power that could savestop them after that. All the other species would slowly fall in line, and the ponies themselves would be helpless to resist as the infested infiltrated them, one by one, until there were no free ponies left on the continent.

It would be all under the Nest.

Under efficient order.

A host did not smile without reason, and that bit of satisfaction that came from such a future was not reason enough to smile. But it was satisfying, and that was enough.

The end of the day was upon her, and Cadance-Drone returned to the garden. Shining-Drone was just disconnecting from his time with the Nest-tree, and his eyes were glazed. The Nexus-host waited for his parasite to take its control again, and when it was aware, she spoke.

“Longer than usual.”

“Much instructions for the soldiers.”

“Greater infestation or greater threat?”

“Former.”

“Understood.”

“Anything important?”

“New jousters.”

“This host will learn.”

“It shall.”

Shining-Drone walked away without another word. Any further learning would occur the next day, and that was sufficient for him. The Nest itself needed to know what she had decided, and incorporate that and the possibilities that it generated into its plans. Others would need to take that information down to the telegraph offices and send it off to the other Nest stations, which would then find a way of getting the information to Ponyville. Anyone else that needed to know from there would have it sent on to them.

Time would pass, and the connection would grow stronger, but until the various Nests were able to touch each other directly and share their information during the sync-up time that they had with the various hosts, this was the workaround that they needed to use. It was slow, but it was workable, even if it meant that they would be waiting longer than they wanted to for the plans to be completely approved of.

But until then, the Nexus-drone would still be a key element, and that meant that she had to keep making decisions on behalf of the Nest. As Cadance-Drone backed her hips up to the small tree, feeling the tendrils already caressing her and opening her up, she hoped that the Nest would approve of the most recent ones. All the other decisions had been very small up until this point. This one…this one could be their greatest strategy, or it could be something that the Nest decided she had to backtrack on.

It was time to find out.

Chapter 28

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Appleloosa was changing, and changing quick, though most of the townsfolk didn’t know it. Braeburn-Drone was part of those changes, though the host was barely conscious of the changes that his body was making. The happy-go-lucky pony had submerged himself into the Nest’s control so swiftly and so utterly that there was very little of his awareness left, and even the parasite had to work harder than some others did to pull him forward for his memories and past.

But he did his job, and that was what mattered.

It was late night in Appleloosa, the desert around it quiet and still. The average pony was either asleep or too busy drinking cider down at the saloon to be that aware of what was going on outside, but the drone nonetheless kept a good lookout. His eyes flicked this way and that as he walked down the streets, a drugged-out stallion lassoed behind him.

The hunt had gone well. He’d managed to convince a rather eager young stallion to accompany him to one of the bars and had made sure to give him plenty of ‘special cider’ for the night. The bartender had made sure to supplement each pour with a little drugged piss behind the bar, and in just a few drafts, the sandy stallion was so out of it that he barely seemed to remember his own name.

The soft hiss of dragging a limp body through sand was nothing particularly loud, but the parasite within Braeburn-Drone was constantly on the watch of any sign of someone noticing it. While unlikely – the town was more or less dead after a certain hour, and nobody really suspected anyone of anything since the settling of the Buffalo-Orchard war – there was still the chance that someone might be up late at night and wonder if there was a rattler in the streets or something like that. The parasite couldn’t risk anyone finding out.

So, the process of dragging someone through the streets took longer than it should. Slow, steady, hiding between buildings when he had to, Braeburn-Drone slowly made his way to the orchard. Every so often, he would take advantage of one of the breaks between the buildings and ‘top up’ his captive.

This was one of those times. He turned, his sheath undulating as the parasite flexed the muscles between his hind legs. The soft push and squelch of the fleshy thing coming free but not getting hard was still pleasurable to the host, and there was a soft moan in the deep dark depths that Braeburn himself had retreated to. His body, however, was completely silent, and the shaft emerged without any sign of pleasure on his face.

The well-tied stallion groaned, eyes unfocused and barely able to shift his head from side to side. Braeburn-Drone pushed down on one side of his jaw with a forehoof, popping the other stallion’s mouth open before slowly sliding his cock past limp lips. A slow stream of piss followed, the parasite’s control absolute. A little squeeze here, a little clench there, and some of the contents of his bladder flowed free.

Not much, of course; it didn’t take much to keep the drugged state going once it was properly begun, but it did need just a little. And he might need more before the night was done.

Once the stallion was quiet, he went back to dragging him through the silent, darkened streets. Nobody looked out. Nobody questioned him.

Eventually, he reached the orchard and he followed a certain set of twists and turns. Since Applejack had arrived with the sapling almost a month ago, things had changed. While still the center of the town, the orchard was no longer worked by most of the town’s population. Instead, the Apple family and their cousins had taken more of a direct hand in working it, giving people time off, paying them for their breaks, and they’d spent that time changing things up. More trees had been added in one specific corner, and all the other ponies had been told that the new trees were part of an expansion for the orchard and the town. They believed it, and were waiting for the next batch to arrive in a few months.

What they didn’t know was that the new trees were there to hide the Nest-tree as it grew, and to give it more trees to touch, adapt to, and infest.

Braeburn-Drone pushed through the layer of trees around the Nest-plant. Waiting on the other side was one of the buffalos, eyes wide but empty, staring into the distance as he was infested. His mouth hung open, drool coming from his lips, and his muscles tensed idly.

It was nearly done, Braeburn-Drone knew. The infestation had started before noon, and it was nearly midnight now. The host would have been well-conditioned with pleasure, and the parasite would have rooted deep. It was safe to remove him.

The drone moved in front of the newly-infested bovine, and the Nest-tree saw him. The buffalo was made to step forward, the tendril sticking out of him sliding free, and Braeburn-Drone watched him go without a word. The buffalo would go back to his tribe, one of a handful that had been infested already, and would continue to pretend that he was one of them. Sooner or later, Braeburn-Drone or one of the other infested ponies would catch another one, bring them back here, and the cycle would start all over again.

While he knew that he’d need to get his new quarry infested, Braeburn-Drone also knew that he was due for a sync with the Nest. He lowered the rope to the ground and turned around, slowly backing his hips to the tendril. It waited for him, pointed straight ahead, and he speared himself on it without a word, without a sound.

The first shock went right up his spine, and the host went completely still. It was time for the Nest-Orchard – adapted from a single tree to many, infesting the juices of the apples themselves – to get a new update on the town.

“And that, darling, is why you should always come to me,” Rarity-Drone said, affecting a slightly more ostentatious, hoity-toity accent for the richer mare that had come to her rented Manehattan salon. “Not only do I design some of the best garments in all of Equestria, but I provide all the latest gossip and candor. And wine. You cannot forget the wine,” she added, sloshing about a glass as if she was as drunk as her customer.

Rarity-Drone had been doing this for just over a month now. The garments that she designed these days were secondary to the connections that she was making in the big city. They were always wanting to talk, wanting to spend time with someone that would make them feel more important than society said they were. Even those at the top of pony society were regularly coming to her, claiming that she was the only one that understood.

It was quite dull and quite stupid, of course. She was merely a host, someone that was instructed by someone else, but even a ‘free’ pony would have been able to do what she did. Customer service was all about making the customer feel valued, important, and wanted. She just happened to be very good at it, and the parasite made her even better at it.

“Oh, Rarity, I don’t know where we’d be without you,” the unicorn mare, soft-blue in color with a corsage of flowers around one forehoof, said. “I just…I just want them to understand me. Accept me. Surely, they can understand that my life is just as hard as theirs, even if I come from money.”

“Darling, darling, this is what I do. I can make you so stunning that they’ll want to be around you.”

“Can you really do that? Are you…can you…”

“Darling, it’s me. I can do anything with fashion. Now, take a drink, that’s a good mare.”

She nodded at the wine glasses, and her guest took another long drink from it. All for the better. The less that they remembered from these little sessions, the easier it was the please them. They barely remembered anything but the good feelings that they had in her presence, and as far as Rarity-Drone was concerned, that was all she needed.

After all, the more that they drank, the better they felt.

The better they felt, the more that the sessions with her tempted them compared to the rest of their lives.

The more that they visited, the more addicted to the ‘wine’ they became.

And once they were addicted enough, then she could begin the process of bringing them into the Nest. It was that simple.

Of course, this one wasn’t ready for that just yet. She had only had her second session with the fashionista host, and wasn’t ready for a proper infestation. But that didn’t mean that Rarity-Drone had wasted her time. This one, while young, was connected to a very well-to-do pony family here in Manehattan. Get the daughter, then the father, then the mother, and Rarity-Drone and the Nest might have access to some of the factories that the older stallion ran. Get those, lock them down, and infest them from within, and they’d have a whole new crop of laborer-hosts for the Nest.

Everything was going splendidly.

When the wine ran out, the mare left with a happy-cry, waving goodbye. Rarity-Drone waved in return, but the moment that the door shut, her expression dropped. Not into a frown of annoyance or anything of the sort, but merely a face of emptiness and nothingness. Without the need to keep a charade going, she could let it all come down.

One of the potted plants at the back of her apartment salon wriggled. The host walked over to it, turning around and presenting her rump. The tendrils of the smaller sapling immediately pressed against her, sliding forward and between her cheeks.

Unlike the saplings that were given to Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy, hers was adapted to be smaller. It would take in information from her and other clients, and from time to time, she would take the Nest-sapling to the local telegraph line to sync with the growing tree behind it. Nest to Nest, then back to her salon to be updated by the stuff on the Nest-Work.

It was a little less useful than having a great tree that all the hosts came to in order to sync up, but it was a better option in a larger city with fewer parks and private places. Best not to expose themselves until they could afford to go completely public with it.

As the first shocks ran up her spine, taking the information from her day’s dealings to the Nest-sapling, she stared straight ahead. A client could come at any time, after all, and the Nest-sapling needed her senses to keep an eye on the door while it learned what she knew.

Pinkie-Drone was as blank as her sister, Maud, as they walked up to the telegraph station. The Rock Farm had been completely converted over the course of a month, and all members of the family were part of the Nest now. There was no holding back there. It had been as close to a brutal take-over as the Nest had ever done, with a sudden attack after giving the sapling time to grow in the nearby areas. The brutal ground had done something to that Nest, and it had been as dangerous as it had been aggressive.

After the family that owned the farm had been completely infested, the Nest had continued to grow and twist itself about. The natural adaptation of the Nest plant left it too aggressive, becoming more and more defensive of the area, and risking exposing itself for the sake of keeping the farm protected.

In the end, Pinkie-Drone and the rest of the hosts killed it. For the sake of the rest of the Nest-Work, they had to ensure that the work of the parasites remained undetected, and the telegraph office and its Nest was sufficiently close for them to use it, instead.

There was no a ‘free’ pony in the building. The telegraph workers – two stallions and a mare – had the same utterly blank faces that Pinkie-Drone and Maud-Drone had. Nobody bothered to speak; they knew the reasons for the Pie family members arrival. The mare opened the door to the back garden while one of the stallions wordlessly got up from his desk and walked around to the back to keep watch. Pinkie-Drone and Maud-Drone stepped outside to find the tree waiting.

Unlike the rocky, almost crystalline Nest that they’d needed to destroy, this one had grown more down than up. It was almost closer to a flower than a proper tree, having put all its growth into the root system that ran further and further away from the Rock Farm and the telegraph station as a whole. A month’s worth of growing in a single direction had eventually connected it with another station, and while that was still spreading further away to connect to more on the Nest-Work, it meant that they had a message-line almost directly to Ponyville.

Pinkie-Drone and Maud-Drone turned around, facing opposite directions and essentially covering the two directions that the stallion outside the fence couldn’t see. They waited patiently, and in short order, the tendrils rose out of the ground. Little ones, more like flowering vines than deep roots, pressed up between their hind legs. They caressed their sexes, and Pinkie-Drone’s parasite began the lubrication process. A forced arousal rippled through the host, encouraging a dripping between her hind legs, and it continued to swell and build until the flower-vine made soft squelching noises as it slid against her pussy lips.

Once it was wet enough, it slid up beneath her tail. The soft squelch of it pressing against and sliding into her anus would have been arousing or silly to her at one point. This time, Pinkie-Drone had no laughter, no giggle-snorts for the lewd sound. All she had was a simple stare for the distance.

The first shocks stimulated the host’s body, but that was all. No muscle-tension, no sudden spasms, nothing indicated the pleasure that would have brought any ‘free’ pony to her knees. The mare merely stood there, taking it, downloading all the information about the dead Nest and the farm and the Pie’s family plans into the Nest-Work.

Maud-Drone was a doctor. She had patients. They were going to send her out into the world again, tending to those that were interested in someone calm and steady. There would be patients everywhere that needed that.

The rest of the family would continue ‘rock-farming,’ but under the direction of finding the best ones for Twilight-Drone to use in some magical experiments. Perhaps for the protection of certain areas, building up minor fortifications and hiding places for other saplings. There were possibilities there, and it would keep the rest of the less-useful family members busy, keeping them from causing problems by being at loose ends.

The Nest did not like loose ends. They were…inconvenient.

Last of all, the information of the dead Nest was downloaded and gone over again. The fact that a Nest had been planted and, essentially, went mad from the local adaptation was something that the rest of the Nest-Work would have to take into account for the future. Adaptation was good; going native was not. Further examination and planning would be required for certain locales.

But the Nest was overall pleased. The small area had been completely pacified, and there was nothing left of the local ponies that could be a threat to the Nest in the future.

Pinkie-Drone felt the shimmer of information go the other way, into her rather than out of her. The pleasure changed, growing stronger as the Nest orders were implanted.

Come home.

Return to Ponyville.

Await further instructions.

Pinkie-Drone accepted those orders with ease. The host was too deeply-buried to have an opinion, but if it had, it would have been content. Ponyville had long been its preferred home, and this visit, while accepted, had not been pleasant. There was something off about this place, something bleak and austere that put even the Nest off its game. It would have to be examined more closely in the future.

But by other hosts. Not Pinkie-Drone.

Fluttershy-Drone had had an interesting month and a half. The Everfree Forest had been quite the task to bring to heel, but there had been no pony better suited to it than her. The pegasus mare had gone into the woods with the flat stare that would have terrified any and all of the ponies around her in Ponyville, but for the animals, it was worse. The host had felt that through the haze of wet heat that the parasite kept her in, and it had almost felt guilty.

Almost.

But now…

The yellow-furred mare looked down at Zecora. The zebra had come back to her hut after her initial departure. Whether she had come back to get some of her things or to mount some recovery effort was immaterial; she had come back, and that made her a target as far as the Nest was concerned. Fluttershy’s conquests earlier in the month – a few changelings that had been in the area and wanted to have her love – made for suitable assistance in collecting the witch zebra.

Now, the striped mare was on her knees, panting for breath. She shook her head.

“This is not the Fluttershy I know. What has caused you to grow so bold?”

“This is not Fluttershy. This is Fluttershy-Drone.”

“Ah, then the world is not filled with slander and lies. Ponyville, then, has become everything I despise.”

“And you will become such, as well.”

There was no point in keeping up a disguise with someone as strong as Zecora; the parasite inside of Fluttershy-Drone had recognized her power almost immediately, and had done everything short of burning down the zebra’s hut to make sure that there was nothing for the witch to use. Even now, there was a tingle in the air, as if the zebra might do something to free herself.

It would not be allowed.

The changeling-drones pushed Zecora down, rolling her onto her back. Fluttershy-Drone clopped to stand over her, slowly lowering her rump until she had all but swallowed the other mare between her cheeks. The warmth of another person’s breath against her sex and her anus would have felt embarrassingly pleasant at another time, but the parasite was focused on something else.

She rolled her hips forward, positioning her sex directly over the zebra’s stuttering lips. Each movement was precise, focused, targeted for just the right amount of movement without giving the zebra any space to respond to what was happening. A little shift to the left, then to the right, and then –

Yes.

Perfect.

The parasite squeezed down around her bladder, the contents built up over the course of a long day. The sudden stream of yellow between her hind legs went right down a squirming Zecora’s throat, flooding her mouth instantly.

“MMMPH!”

She tried not to swallow, but there was only so long that the zebra could keep herself from clearing her mouth. Fluttershy-Drone’s position was such that she couldn’t get air through her nose, and trying to breathe through an increasingly-flooded muzzle was all but impossible.

Eventually, she gave in.

The first swallow was obvious as the zebra’s body was wracked with a sudden shock of need from head to hoof. Her bared sex went from dry to drenched in the course of five seconds, oozing down to her puckering donut of a hole. Fluttershy-Drone leaned forward, making sure each successive pulse from her insides went right down the other mare’s throat, forcing her to keep swallowing and keep feeling the effects.

The soft hiss continued for nearly a minute. It was more than she would normally give a first-timer, but the parasite knew that this was too powerful a potential host to risk getting away. An intense, powerful dose would scramble her thoughts enough to keep her from making any trouble while they got ready to infest her.

Hsssssssss.

It was the silence, one supposed, that would have been particularly horrifying in that moment. The changeling-drones said nothing, nor did they move. Their wings were still, their heads frozen in place, and they did not shift their weight in the mud and muck. Fluttershy didn’t move, her wings flat against her back, her mouth closed and her eyes staring determinedly straight ahead. Even the wind through the trees and the animals that still called the forest home didn’t make a sound.

Little by little, Zecora’s soft spasms began to die off, leaving her completely still on the ground. Still, wet, limp. She didn’t say a word when Fluttershy-Drone pulled her hips up, didn’t react when the mare looked down at her. The zebra’s eyes were blank, empty, filled with nothing more than the haze of lust and wanton need from the piss she’d been forced to drink.

There was no need to instruct the changeling-drones, either. They had the same instructions as she did: find hosts and infest them. They reached down and collected Zecora’s forehooves in hand, pulling her along to the back of the wrecked hut. The Nest-tree had already grown into the swamp, and it would have plenty of parasites to start the work of infesting the powerful mare.

Soon, they’d have a witch on their side.

Soon, the Everfree Forest would be completely under the Nest’s command.

She had done well.

Fluttershy-Drone stared into the distance, the parasite controlling her face and making it deliver the hard-stare. The animals around her shivered, slowly coming out of the trees and bowing before her.

It was a power that few others would have been able to muster. Fluttershy-Drone had been seen as a potential liability rather than something useful, but her link with animals was more than just the ability to talk with them and understand them. The Nest had come to realize that it was able to command animals with her hard stare and the way that she linked with them.

They were spies, allies, creatures to chase and hunt others and drive them into Nest-traps. There were a hundred ways that they could use the creatures of the forest and the world around it to their advantage.

Fluttershy-Drone looked at the birds. They would go to Canterlot, study it, watch it, see what was happening. They’d learn the schedules of the guards, the habits of those that wandered the streets, and the timing of shops and security. The other animals would have their tasks, but that would give the Nest intelligence that it could use to plan their surreptitious invasion of the capitol in a few months’ time.

Soon.

“Rainbow…nnngh…you…you…”

Rainbow-Drone looked down at Spitfire. The mare might have once felt some guilt or even arrogance at bringing down the head of the Wonderbolts for the Nest, but she had been a host for so long that there wasn’t even a sense of pride at the accomplishment. The only sensation she had was a sense of satisfaction that the Nest’s will had been achieved.

Two months. Two months of slowly bringing Soarin in, followed by all the other members of the team. Two months of being seen as that slut by the rest of Cloudsdale, dating and getting fucked by all the other Wonderbolts and other Cloudsdale residents, besides. She had been the easy mare of all the slutty females on the cloudy city, and she had born that for the sake of the mission.

And now, Spitfire was the last one left.

The other hosts on the team – which was all of them – stood around the drugged mare. The pegasus huffed and groaned, trying to stay on her hooves and utterly failing. She groaned as she swayed from one side to the other, stumbling this way and that, huffing through nostrils that were flared wide and sucking in all the sex-scent in the room.

“I’m not…some lesbian…bitch for you…”

“It is amusing that you think that is what is in store,” Rainbow-Drone said.

“Dash…the hell…what happened to your –”

“You will be infested.”

“What…the fuck…”

The other Wonderbolts moved quickly. They ripped the mare’s uniform off, leaving it in shreds on the floor, and pushed her down. One of the stallions – Soarin – moved forward, his cock already falling from his sheath. The first blast of piss hit the mare in the face, but other ponies moved forward, grabbing her head and forcing her mouth open, letting his urine fall into her mouth.

Her protests, weak as they were, fell silent. Spitfire stared upward with eyes that were rapidly glazing over. With the combination of a spiked drink and then the extra blast from Soarin, there was no way that she could resist.

The plan was already in their minds. They knew their tasks. Fuck her. Fuck her and use her until she was unconscious enough for them to claim she needed medical attention. Anyone that came to look would buy the excuse and clear the way to the local hospital.

Rainbow-Drone had placed the sapling there as a gift from Twilight-Drone on the first day that they’d arrived. It was not as good a place for it as the Nest in the hospital back in Ponyville, of course – it lacked the same rich soil, and there was the chance that it would be walked in on, sometimes – but the Wonderbolts needed regular check-ups, and it was a place to make sure that they could sync in private. Now, it would serve as a place for Spitfire to be properly infested.

The last of the Wonderbolts would fall, which would mean that the infestation could spread more quickly through the hospital staff, and then through the other pegasi that called Cloudsdale home. It was…slower than the original plan had been, considering the fact that the winged ponies were more insular and knew each other better than those in the land-bound cities did, so they had to move more slowly with infestation, but it was something. Twilight-Drone would, however, need to be notified that the plan was moving slower and they’d need to do something to either speed up Cloudsdale, or slow down everywhere else.

But that would be handled by Gilda-Drone later. For now, they would take this one to the hospital and see her properly infested and taken in. The Nest would have another flier.

Twilight-Drone sat in the basement of the library, supported on all sides by the extensive roots that the library tree had grown since its proper fusion with the Nest. She had the information of a hundred different ponies pouring through her mind, forced through her skull, and the Nest took back the impressions that she got from the details.

She felt the conquest of Appleloosa happening, the slow taking-in of the buffalo tribe and the complete ignorance of the town of how their prize crop was becoming a corruptive poison.

She saw the rise and fall of a Nest in the rocky farms, and felt the fear of the others as they were reminded of the downsides of the Nest’s systems.

She saw the clouds, the forests, the world from the eyes of so many different hosts, and she was made aware of the sheer breadth and width of the conspiracy to take over Equestria. They had hosts among the changelings, now, both the good and the bad. They had the buffalo on their side, and they were making inroads among the dragons and griffons. Sooner or later, they would have their fingers in nearly everything. Already, almost every ruler of the different settlements and cities had come to the Nest, and while they still didn’t have the raw numbers to perform an uprising across the land, they were more numerous than they had ever been before.

Twilight-Drone could feel the Nest-Work. It spread throughout Equestria, now, going all the way to the borders of the Crystal Empire and interfacing with the tree that Cadance had taken back with her, and spread in a loop around Canterlot. Not every Nest was connected to the Nest-Work in its entirety, but everything had at least a small connection to a telegraph line, which meant that those that weren’t pulsing information back to Ponyville at least sent their information along in another way.

And as she saw all those things, the host gave the Nest its impressions. Filtered through all the learning that the greatest student in the land had done, they knew that the plan could continue on its own, almost without interference, for a few months. While they could move now, trying to take out Celestia and Luna was going to be difficult. Any flaw in the plan would leave them in massive danger should the princesses get away, and could lead to the other alicorns completely destabilizing Nest efforts in various regions.

If they waited, however, they could shore up all the leadership positions that they had taken in Manehattan, in Cloudsdale, in Appleloosa. If they waited for a few months – just a few months – then Cadance would have the jousters ready, and Fluttershy would have a small legion of hunters, and so on. They still wouldn’t have everyone converted, but they would have a significant number of each town brought under them. Even if the princesses managed to escape, trying to dislodge that would be a great deal more difficult than merely dealing with an infestation at the top.

A soft rap at the door pulled the host from its connection, and the Nest pulled out of her. The soft pull no longer dragged at her anus. It closed from the power of the parasite, pulling tight once more, though it was merely an illusion after sitting with something inside of it for so long. The purple mare plodded up the ramp to the main floor of the library and opened the door.

It was Dapper-Drone. The mayor looked her in the eye.

“Timeline?”

“Three months,” Twilight-Drone said.

Three months until they went for Canterlot. Three months would shore up everything that was a little tentative, and improve the chances of everything that was already prepared. Cadance-Drone was currently in talks with Celestia to get a sporting event arranged, and that would require a number of different preparations from different regions. Lasso-throwing from Appleloosa, the Wonderbolts from Cloudsdale, rock-throwing from the Pies, and a number of other competitors would need to be readied for it.

But with that preparation came a far greater number of infested that they could take to Canterlot. They would outnumber the guards at that point, and the knights that were still there and not in the Crystal Empire. By the end of the competition, Celestia and Luna would be as infested as Twilight-Drone herself.

Dapper-Drone didn’t nod. The infested had lost most of their expressions and non-required movements. Instead, he just stared for a moment as the parasite within considered the timeline.

“Doable. Sustenance?”

“The hosts have sufficient, for now.”

“But in three months?”

“…Ah.”

“Logistics. I must sync.”

Twilight-Drone moved out of the way. For all that she was the one that had learned of the entire land and knew Celestia quite well, Dapper-Drone was a merchant, and he was aware of things on different level. Food-stuffs was a thing that the parasites didn’t think about as much, as they were sustained by their hosts. However, should their hosts not be fed, there would be consequences. And there would need to be some hosts that were kept to farming, even in places like Ponyville where the full population had been completely converted.

It showed that the Nest needed the occasional extra point of view that it got from its hosts. While it was brilliant, it was not all-knowing. It was only capable of seeing the sum of all the different pieces, and sometimes, the piece needed to be magnified.

Twilight-Drone flicked out her wings, flying to the front door of the library, then out and up. The Nest had expanded through the town, and the border buildings that lined the edge of the settlement all had a host atop, connected constantly to the Nest building itself. It had learned from Cadance’s attack to have more lookouts across the city, some ponies dedicated specifically to that to the point where some of their muscles had wasted away. The Nest would never be caught off-guard again.

The parasite idly wondered what would happen to it when the Nest had taken over everything. There was little left of the host besides memories and a residual bit of curiosity, and though the body was strong, the Nest had no information for its parasites of how long it would last. Its whole life? A little less? Much less? What did being infested do to the body over the long term?

Those were questions that had no answers. The host and its parasite could only stare toward the horizon, anticipating what would happen in three months’ time.

A Conspiracy of Order

by Redheart-Medlabs

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28