A Conspiracy of Order

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.