A Conspiracy of Order

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.

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.

More.

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.