A Conspiracy of Order

Big Mac-Drone pulled out of the pony under him. The wet sucking sound of his flare leaving that puckered hole was no longer satisfying the way that it had been in his early droned-days, but it was still good enough to keep him hard without the parasite within making it stiff and throb again. It bobbed up against his belly, wet and covered in his cum, but not fading. Not yet spent, for sure.

He stepped back mechanically, his legs moving precisely, no wasted motions. As he pulled off the dripping stallion, some ancient part of his mind wondered if he really needed this, but the Nest had demanded that his body, his shell, hunt down more potential drones. The fact that most of them were stallions, and stallions that hankered for a bit of farm ‘meat,’ meant that he had to keep giving it to the eager males rather than the females.

The Nest made sure that he didn’t mind that. Perhaps it had made him prefer it; there was a part of him that believed that he had only enjoyed females before.

It didn’t matter. What the Nest demanded was the only thing that mattered.

He waited until the earth stallion – ass up, head down, forelegs splayed out – started to ooze his seed from that twitching pucker before turning around. Other drones, waiting in the tent that had hidden them from the other festival-goers, darted out and collected the dazed male. They’d make sure to tend to him, drug him, and feed him more tainted food to make sure that he continued down the trail to addiction. There would be an infestation by tomorrow night, he was sure; that one had been very susceptible to the temptations of the Nest.

It was strange to think like that. He hadn’t had those words as a farm-pony, and he knew that he didn’t have the same intelligence as most of his sister’s friends. All that he had came from the Nest, but that was more than enough.

Clop.

Clop.

Clop.

Clop-clop.

Big Mac-Drone intentionally shifted up his pace, making sure that he didn’t fall into too uniform and mechanical a step as he walked out into the main trails between the tents once more. It was always something that he had to remember: the other ponies would notice if he walked with a military gait, and would make a comment about it.

Regular.

Broken up.

Distracted.

As he kept his steps more ‘organic,’ his eyes flicked back and forth among the other ponies in the late-night hours. The sun had long-since gone down, and Luna had taken to the skies with the moon. They were going to be busy for a while, with one Princess taking to her tent to relax and get ready for sleep, while the other oversaw the dreams of the pony population.

The Nest didn’t have to worry about them for the night. They only had to worry about the ponies that the Princesses had set to watch the festival-goers.

There.

Big Mac-Drone spotted one of them out of the corner of his eye. It was a gray-furred stallion, one that had a blue mane and looked rather stern, even severe where he stood in the alleys between the tents. That one was probably one of Celestia’s guards, assigned to watch over those that were enjoying the evening.

Big Mac-Drone made a note of the other pony’s face and kept moving. The night was young, and –

Hunt.

Break.

Corrupt.

Those were his assignments. He was to find those that the Nest needed to bring into the fold, make sure that they had a dose of seed and urine, and then move on. The fact that he was one of the studs of the Nest meant that he had a better chance than most to seduce the ones that they needed, and his cock size was such that most of those that were under him ended up getting broken from the sheer pleasure of that size. The seed and urine were just a little bit extra to make sure that it took.

Big Mac-Drone’s cock remained out. There was no shame in having his cock out; this late at night, with so many intoxicated ponies all around, there was nobody that would really care. The only ones that would bother would be the guards, and they’d just assume that he was mildly tipsy compared to all the others. There would be nobody bothered by that little bit of exposure.

Even so…

The parasite in him threw a little more of a wobble into his walk, making sure that he leaned, that he tilted, that he drifted from side to side more than a pony should when they were sober. But that was the point. Keep others from looking too close. Move like he was a little bit too drunk to be a problem.

Left.

Right.

Each move was perfectly calculated by the parasite inside of the drone to make sure that it looked real, all while being just a little bit too perfect for anyone that knew what to look for. The parasite adjusted for that, as well, ensuring that he was constantly moving forward while occasionally bumping up against a stall or some other pony walking beside him. There was always a muttered apology that Big Mac-Drone always forgot after making it, and they were always making progress.

Need to sync…

The Nest’s list of targets had already run dry. The drone needed more to continue his assignment as a hunter, and there was a perfect place to do that.

Any tent would do, theoretically, but there were a few tents that housed ponies that were being used as sync-points, constantly being updated and giving the Nest a ‘processor’ of sorts that helped it go through all the information and make sure that it was as up-to-date as possible. Twilight-Drone had served as that in Ponyville for a while, but here, they needed more. Not everyone had a mind like that to put to work for the Nest.

Big Mac-Drone wandered over to the Cloudsdale tents, sliding into the nearest one to the edge of the cluster of cloudy triangles. Inside, a red-furred pegasus waited, his wings ragged as his name, and his tail was up and a root embedded under it.

There was a slight start, but only slight; the Nest-parasite ‘calmed’ again as they realized that they were both infested. Big Mac-Drone stopped with the tent flap shut, the unconcerned expression that the stallion always wore slipping to something slightly more limp, neutral, uncaring. He let the straw in his mouth, a signature thing, drop to the ground now that it no longer mattered.

Drones didn’t need speech to get across their needs. Raggedy Wings – or more accurately, Ragggedy-Drone – stepped to one side as another root started to rise from the ground and Big Mac-Drone turned around and backed into place. It was much like the motions that backed a wagon into its proper resting place rather than a pony trying to find a comfortable place to stand.

As he flicked his tail up, he could feel a strange sense of excitement. It was too dull to be called that compared to the vague memories of what excitement actually was, but it was still there, still churning and flickering away in his chest. Not for the pleasure that was to come – though that would be nice – but for something else. Something…something more…useful.

After all, the hunt gave him purpose, and the Nest rewarded purpose.

The root pushed up along his hind-legs, rubbing against the inner thighs before trailing over his sac. There was a gentle stroke there, something that would have made his cock bob harder if he had been more free to enjoy it. As it stood, it was more like measuring the contents within by weight, checking if he had more to continue the hunt.

Which he did.

He always would.

The root pushed higher, sliding against the line of flesh between his sac and his rump. The root crept expertly between his cheeks, rubbed against his rim briefly, and then –

Squelch.

It was inside, and it was rooting deeper. It pressed against his prostate, giving a tiny jolt of physical pleasure before the connection happened. The first shock went up his spine, and he gave the tiniest of stomps.

Surge.

Tingle.

Tickle.

Throb.

The pleasure was as good as ever, but it was the feeling of connection to the Nest that really took Big Mac-Drone’s breath away. As the pulsing shocks went up and down his spine, forcing his cock hard in a way that even the parasites could struggle to resist, he felt the power, the knowledge, the everything that was the Nest and its power filling him. It took the list of those that he had rutted and seeded and marked and stored it away, and he forgot the faces of all the ponies that had been part of his assignment. They were not needed; they were deleted from his memory.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a faint twitch cross Raggedy-Drone’s face. The other stallion was getting put through the wringer; all the information being processed through him was using his mind to the fullest, and – now that he took a second look – he could see the signs of hard use on the other stallion. He had been warped and wracked by the shifts of processing that he had gone through. Fed, yes, but the root’s nutrients were not the same as what the other ponies and drones received, and the only exercise he got was his parasite clenching and unclenching his muscles, forcing it to keep having some form of exercise.

Long-term, processors kept like this would lose their ability to walk. They would be nothing but the bodies and minds that helped the Nest grow in power and capability, and they would be perfectly happy with that.

Big Mac-Drone had his eyes forced straight ahead again, staring at the tent flap as the Nest processed what it had taken from him. The targets would come again, and he’d have a new list of those that were –

Flicker.

Flicker.

Flicker.

Faces and names started to come up his spine in packets of images and feelings. The Nest was uploading the next bunch of targets.

Shimmer.

A merchant that would be low priority; they had many already, but another wouldn’t hurt to take.

Shimmer.

An arborist in the royal palace. If they were ever to get another Nest-Tree in there, they would need to make sure that they had more on their side than the ones that had allowed this first one.

Shimmer.

A royal guard, the one that he’d seen watching the streets, the one with the blue mane. He had a name: Sapphire Strikes. He was gay. He had a thing for bigger males. He wanted to have fun, but was stuck with official duties that he took too seriously. He was someone that wasn’t high ranking in the guard, but was still a guard, and they needed Celestia to be surrounded by those that wouldn’t go running for help when the time came.

The list went on and on, all the names and bits of information coming from all the other downloads into the Nest-Tree from the other drones that were doing their job all around the festival. Every time that a target was taken down, there was a download into the tree. Every time that the tree connected to someone to start warping them, it took a piece of their memories with the touch, copying and processing it to get more information, more targets, more details that would make it easier for them to keep moving forward.

Big Mac-Drone had a number of them now, a list ten ponies long that were set aside just for him to take care of. Any of them would add to the Nest’s chance for their take-over, but those at the top would do the most.

The pulsing continued in the background, feeding more information in as his parasite sent more information out. Raggedy-Drone twitched again, but it was a fainter thing, something that he was aware of rather than consciously noticing. The concern that he’d felt the first time he saw it, faint as it was, disappeared completely. There was no need to worry about what the Nest did to other drones, other hosts.

Inside him, the root wriggled, sliding down against his prostate and then slowly pulling back. The connection dropped, leaving Big Mac-Drone alone in his own head again, and the root disappeared back into its hole.

Clip.

Clop.

With nothing more than the quiet stamp, Big Mac-Drone left the tent once more. The other pegasi all around him shimmered, their feathery wings groomed to an immaculate degree and lit with the light of moon, star, and bonfires spread throughout the festival grounds. They cheered and sang and danced, and for all that he knew that there were drones among them, he couldn’t tell them apart.

The moment of contemplation faded as the list took priority. He walked down the lane between the tents and stalls, under the clouds and floating homes of the visitors from Cloudsdale, toward the spot where he’d seen the guard-stallion just a few minutes previous.

Just a few minutes. He had been connected to the Nest for what felt like hours, and yet it had only been minutes. Truly, the wonders of the Nest were vast and varied.

The red-furred stallion didn’t take long to find the guard-stallion again. The gray-furred male was hanging out between some of the tents at the edge of the Ponyville section of the grounds, his eyes flicking from one pony to another with suspicion and concern. Big Mac-Drone put on a small smile and walked over to him, putting another piece of straw in his mouth before he was seen.

“Yyyyup, big day,” Big Mac-Drone said as he stopped beside the just-slightly-smaller stallion. “You?”

“…Been a big one,” Sapphire Strikes said.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He leaned just a bit against the opposite tent, his hind-legs spread just enough to show off the low-hanging sac in the back and give a hint of the cock just barely poking out of his sheath. At some point, it had retracted, but the parasite inside was keeping him from just shoving it back out. A tease, first, something to make him look like the uncaring rustic pony that would attract someone like Sapphire Strikes.

Sure enough, the other male looked down and back. There was no doubt where he was looking, but he didn’t make a comment. Not right away, at least.

But his own cock started to drop. He was interested.

Big Mac-Drone didn’t say anything. Strong, silent, a little bit of rustic sweat and musk. That would go much further than any flirting words or anything like that. So, he just leaned, letting the other stallion have to deal with someone from the country, some powerful ‘bumpkin’ with a big, strong body, with a big, heavy dick, just be there as a distraction.

The Nest-parasite in him, fed with all the knowledge the Nest-Tree had gathered from the infested, had told him that it would work, and it was right. The stallion kept looking over at him, then looking away, then looking back, clearly tempted in a way that he knew he shouldn’t be. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then looked back at the crowd, even as his own dick kept dropping from his sheath.

Patience and silence were Big Mac-Drone’s weapons, useful in drawing others in. They got curious, and this one was no different.

Finally, Sapphire Strikes looked away from the crowd and stared him in the eye. The guard-stallion leaned a bit closer, flank to flank.

“I’m off in a few minutes. Shall we go back to my tent?”

“Yyyyyyup.”

Piece of cake.

“Ah, ah, ah!”

Once they were alone, Sapphire Strikes went from stern guard to desperate slut. He’d crawled under Big Mac-Drone’s belly, nuzzling into his sheath. The guard hadn’t seemed able to get enough of the stallion’s scent, sniffing at the opening before licking at it, using his tongue to encourage that shaft to come out and play.

Lick.

Lap.

Lick.

Lap.

Big Mac-Drone didn’t have to do any work then, and he barely had to do any work now. The big, well-muscled stallion under him just seemed to have an utter hunger for cock, and that pucker had been more than eager to take the stud’s cock right inside. No hesitation, no resistance, nothing.

And now, Sapphire Strikes was bucking back again and again, huffing as he fucked himself against Big Mac-Drone’s cock.

“Oh…oh, Celestia, that feels good…I needed this…so bad…”

Big Mac-Drone would have been flattered in another time. As it stood, he was more…amused. Amused as much as the parasite would let him be, at the very least, and that was enough.

He idly bucked his hips from time to time, keeping the ‘rut’ going, but it was mostly Sapphire Strikes driving that dick inside of him. Whenever the other stallion started to slow down, Big Mac-Drone released a little bit of pre-cum, just enough to add to the drugged heat down there, and the other stallion bucked back even harder.

It was a good system.

Thrust.

Bounce.

Grind.

They’d been at it for five minutes before the guard started to show signs of tiredness. Not much, but he no longer ground back so eagerly, no longer had the same sort of rhythm that he’d started with, and most of all, didn’t have the same balance. He was wobbling, and that meant that the Nest chemicals were starting to get into his system and take hold. It wouldn’t be much longer before he was completely lost to the rut and wouldn’t notice the inevitable intrusion under his tail.

The tent was quiet aside from the slow humping. Big Mac-Drone made sure to take over when the other stallion wasn’t able to keep up anymore, leaning forward and grinding his hips forward. His flare dragged over all the sensitive bits inside, ensuring that the other horse wasn’t going to have anything to complain about. Thrust, grind, thrust, grind, each time angling himself perfectly to crush that eager little prostate. Sapphire Strikes moaned, whimpering.

When the other stallion was reduced to panting and drooling nearly fifteen minutes into the rut – impressive, considering that most would tap out around the 8 minute mark – Big Mac-Drone stomped on the ground again, disguising the motion as a kick to push himself deeper in.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rugs sliding out of the way. The same hole dug under almost every tent in the festival grounds was revealed, and so was the root slowly pushing its way free. It wound back and forth, sliding up and under his balls. He pulled back slightly, giving the root that little bit of room that it needed, and –

“Nnngh?”

Apparently, Sapphire Strikes was just a little more attentive than the usual host. Big Mac-Drone pushed forward again, grinding down that hole, sliding in as deep as he could go and using the sheer girth of his cock to push the root in along with his shaft. The other stallion grunted, huffing, shaking his head –

Hssssss.

The soft warmth of Big Mac-Drone urinating spread around his cock and ran down into the other stallion. Sapphire Strikes gasped, only to sag down as the intense effects of the chemicals in the urine started to take hold, robbing him of his balance even further, making his muscles go limp, leaving him all but drunk on the stuff.

As soon as he tumbled forward, his eyes rolling back in his skull, Big Mac-Drone went still again. His cock throbbed, of course, but that was due to the efforts of the parasite inside of him and the power of the Nest controlling his body. Another root might have come out if the guard was higher-ranking and if he needed the information for another target, but none came. It wouldn’t be needed then.

The soft pulsing of the other stallion’s hole around his cock was another example of the pleasurable but not needed feeling that life had started to be full of. Connection with the Nest was simply more pleasurable than any hole that he could ever fuck again. Even the taboo of fucking his own sister was nothing compared to the feeling of being hooked up to the Nest-Tree and feeling the commands coming down it.

It was right to work.

It was right to serve.

It was pleasure to serve.

Sapphire Strikes groaned and moaned, his mouth hanging open as his cock pumped cum all over the floor. It was a mess in the carpets, and the rugs, and even the dirt around the hole was starting to turn muddy. The guard-stallion was a total mess, wracked by the pleasure of the root deep in his ass.

Break.

Break for the Nest.

Serve the Nest.

Cum for the Nest.

Not to enjoy the pleasure of cumming, but to ensure that the mind was completely distracted from what was being done to the body. Big Mac-Drone pulled back slowly, the parasite testing the waters. When there was no reaction, he pulled out the rest of the way, ensuring that his urine, pre-cum, and the root remained in place.

With the guard completely lost to lust and remaining in place, it would have been a good time to move on and find another pony on the list. The list was long, after all, and there were many different targets that could be brought low before the night was over. Yet, at the same time, there was a little more that the drone could do here. Just to make sure that the guard-stallion didn’t some how break free.

Big Mac-Drone walked around the stallion, going to his pile of blankets and clothes. After using his hoof to pull the blanket up and clean the tip of his shaft, he turned around and walked right over Sapphire Strikes’s head. He lowered his hips slightly, bringing his cock down – the parasite reducing his sheer arousal and the size of his flare by a little bit – and slowly lowered his hips until his cock touched the other stallion’s lips.

A little push.

A little nudge.

And as soon as he knew that his cock was completely locked in place by its own size in the other stallion’s throat…he let loose. The parasite clenched down around his bladder, manipulating his muscles all the way from the bladder to his shaft, and the other horse was made to drink a golden flow that was hot, thin, and entirely designed to break other ponies down and make sure that they were properly lust-bound.

It didn’t take long for the entranced guard to start gulping, swallowing to avoid drowning. Big Mac-Drone just stood there, staring straight ahead, not bothering to look at his target. After all, the deed was done; what danger was there in a guard-stallion that didn’t have the stamina to look up and see what was being done to them?

A half-hour later, Big Mac-Drone left the tent. As soon as he let the tent flap shut, however –

“You have a lot of nerve, sir.”

Big Mac-Drone summoned all the nonchalance that he always had back in Ponyville well before his infestation, and slowly turned around. Looking up at him was a unicorn, someone that he’d never seen before, dressed in a fancy-looking tuxedo that wrapped tight around him. The unicorn tossed his head back, white fur and black mane falling back over his neck as he met Big Mac-Drone’s eyes.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing?”

“Uh…having a little fun?”

“Hmmph. This is one of the Princess of the Sun’s personal guards. He hardly has the time to be dealing with ponies like you.”

“Heh. He wanted me to deal with him.”

“Ah – b-be that as it may.”

The Nest did not have a name for this pony; he wasn’t on the immediate list that they had been compiling, but he clearly had some sort of fancy authority, something that he enjoyed swinging around when he could. He thought that he was in charge. And that meant that he might have something that the Nest could use.

Big Mac-Drone turned on his hooves, looking down at the other horse. The other male stomped a front hoof.

“You stop leering this instant.”

“Or what?”

“O-or I will report you to the powers that be.”

“What makes ya think they’ll listen to you?”

“I – I am the personal assistant to Prince Blueblood.”

Blueblood. That was a name that the Nest did know, and it was definitely one of those on the ‘capture and infest’ list. If there was a chance of getting that one – and all the access to the palace that would come with that, in case Celestia managed to avoid getting infested during the festival – then it was priority one for the infested to try and take him down.

And Big Mac-Drone had managed to find a link right to the prince without even trying. It was a lucky break.

Big Mac-Drone pulled his head back just a bit, no longer leering so heavily, but still with just a hint of a reminder that he was remarkably bigger than the other stallion. A good head and a half taller, it made it easy to loom over the smaller unicorn, and despite the prickliness of the white and black stallion, it was clear that the mild intimidation worked.

“Ya work for the prince?” Big Mac-Drone asked.

“I do. And if you continue this behavior, it will reflect very, very badly on you. I will tell him and ensure –”

“Calm down.”

Big Mac-Drone chuckled, shaking his head and spitting out his straw. He turned around, nodding his head further into the festival grounds.

“Ain’t no harm meant. Was just having a little fun with ‘im. And he invited me ‘round, you know? Ain’t like I was trying to bug him.”

“…He will confirm this?”

“Tomorrow, sure.”

“Why not now?”

“Heh, ya wanna walk in there and help him clean up?”

“…Tomorrow will be fine,” the other horse muttered, shaking his head as pink and red bloomed through his cheeks. “So long as he backs you up.”

“Yup.”

“I – I will take my leave now, farmer.”

“Hey.”

“What now?”

“Ya wanna get a drink? I’ll pay. Smooth things over.”

“…Why?”

“Heh. Don’t want to be in trouble, do I? And ain’t like I can’t try and make good. Come on. Your choice.”

The Nest didn’t know for sure what the other male wanted. There were too many possibilities to commit to a single strategy of pursuit. They needed something definitive out of him, and a drink should be enough to loosen his tongue. And perhaps more, considering the way that the unicorn was responding to a little bit of flirtatious force.

The other stallion hesitated, looked over his shoulder, then finally took a step forward, trotting up to walk beside Big Mac-Drone.

“Fine. I’ll take a walk with you. But it is more to keep an eye on you than because I want to hang around.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sure. What’s yer name?”

“Sweet Specter.”

Another Big Mac would have chuckled at the name. Big Mac-Drone did not. Instead, he nodded as if it was just as good as any other name and not some silly thing that should have been mocked from the day that the poor unicorn had been saddled with it. Nodding toward the Ponyville tents and stalls, he led the way further in.

His face showed nothing but a mild bit of friendliness, casual as it always was, as nonchalant as he had been known to be. Inside, the parasite was scheming away, looking forward to the chance to break this one and make Blueblood become part of the whole plan. Big Mac-Drone was aware of at least some of the reports from all the other infested, how they were spreading out, progressing every main and secondary part of the plan to take over Canterlot. Addiction was already settling in. Sooner or later, every uninfested pony would be desperate, too needy to resist the Nest’s infestation.

That was what was slowing them down. Infestation took time, and the stronger the mind of those that they had to infest, the more time that it took. The Nest-Tree in the festival grounds was stronger than the others had been when they’d infested Ponyville and the patients at the hospital, but it still needed that bit of time for anyone that wasn’t pre-broken.

Thus all the tainted food, sex, and more that the festival had going for it. The more that the uninfested consumed and tried out, the more that their minds were broken down with the urge for sex, with less and less thought and resistance. And the more that they gave in, the more that the infested could safely bring the uninfested back to their tents for a bit of programming. None of the roots would be able to finish the job in one night, but they could break them down little by little every night, encouraging them to keep coming back, to keep showing up and begging for more.

Sweet Specter moved a little ahead, and Big Mac-Drone slowed. He looked off to the side, watching as several drones looked back at him from inside one of the tents. They both straddled a juicing barrel, their cocks hanging down and urinating heavily into the wooden vessel. They merely stared for a moment before Big Mac-Drone idly kicked one of the support struts and shut the flap.

It had been pure luck that Sweet Specter hadn’t seen that. They couldn’t rely on luck forever.