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The Hive of Debauchery

Part 2

For FlimFlamFun5

By Draconicon

The night passed long and slow, and through it all, Patrick was filled and drained by turns. The red fox had every bit of information in his head pulled free, and as it was taken out, he could feel the tail of the slug in his ass pushing down into the rock next. The information was being drained down into the eggs in there, filling the little ones with the information that they needed to make a start in their new life.

It was a horrifying thing, and he should have been afraid, but the pleasure and the conditioning made it so that he was nothing but a drone. A good drone, one that would obey and spread the Hive as far as he could. There was little else that he could do, unfortunately; the parasite had been, perhaps, a bit too thorough.

Patrick was aware that the Hive was making decisions. It had affected him badly, taking him and converting him too quickly to leave him a good front-agent for the Hive. They would need more than him, more people that would do what was required. They needed to spread, and soon.

For all that the fox had been drained too quickly by the parasite in him and too dangerously, he could still work. He still had a façade that allowed him to pass for normal as long as he wasn't in the open for too long. That was enough for now.

When dawn was an hour away, the parasite on his prostate made him stand up again, holding the rock nest in his hands as he was made to leave the room. He was still naked, this time. Not that anyone in the frat was awake to see it, and those on the second floor would soon not care about what was going on around them.

Not enough to stop it, at least.

Patrick was able to look around, to understand what was going on enough to know he was safe, and left his bedroom. Nobody said anything, nobody woke up. The frat house was silent in the early hours of the morning.

Nobody will wake up from the drinking, he thought. Not until well past noon.

And that would give the squirming eggs in the nest the time to start finding their proper hosts. The ones that had spread throughout the city were having little luck, considering what had been tasted in the subsonic frequencies that his own slug had sent out through the night. Some had found homes in the homeless, while others had been squashed under cars or other threats during the evening.

Few had made a good home for themselves, and fewer could blend in even as well as Patrick could. The hive was at risk, and this was the only way to save it.

The fox walked across the hall, opening the door to the other frat brother's room. A dingo laid on his side, wearing nothing but boxers and completely tangled up in his sheets. It was a perfect thing.

He stepped into the room, quietly, slowly, taking some eggs from the next at the guidance of his parasite and sliding them into the blankets. The warmth would take them soon, and they'd hatch, taking their host by surprise.

He walked through the other rooms quickly, sometimes leaving eggs in the blankets, sometimes pushing them further down, under the bed. Sometimes he put them by the head, and sometimes he put them by the feet. It all depended on what the parasite in him told him to do, and he followed all the orders without question.

As he reached the final room on the top floor, he could feel the eggs starting to break. They were going to hatch very, very soon...

Derek was the first to be converted. He woke up to a strange, wet feeling around his feet, and he groaned under his breath, kicking at the blankets until he found a dry spot. It was good enough to feel comfortable again, and he started to drift back off to sleep.

However, he was only halfway there when he felt something tickling the back of his leg. Grumbling, the dingo kicked idly, trying to get rid of the blanket that was probably tickling him. Despite his best attempts, the tickling continued, and even seemed to move further and further up his leg.

Still grumbling, he reached down to push it away, only to feel it pushing up under the back of his boxers. Then, and only then, did he finally understand that it wasn't just the blanket tickling him.

Derek's eyes went wide, the dingo rolling around and trying to look over his shoulder. The slimy, wriggling feeling was going higher and higher, pressing further up into his boxers. It was on the back of his thigh, and then on his ass.

He couldn't pull his underwear up, so he pulled them down. Half-expecting to see a snake, he saw -

"What the fuck?"

The hungover frat bro wondered if he was seeing things. That had to be the case, right? After all, he had a fucking slug on his ass, one that looked bigger than anything that he'd seen outside of the Discovery Channel. How the hell was something that big there?

Gotta be dreaming...

He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. If nothing else, he should get up, get rid of it, get it off of -

Then the slug pushed forward, and as it stretched, he saw that it wasn't merely the four or five inches long that he'd assumed. It was more than a foot long, and the head arched up and over his ass before -

"NNNGH!"

It hit his asshole, the tip of the head pushing right past his virgin rim. His breath came hot and fast, gasping as he rolled onto his back. The slug was still there, not squished, the bed too soft for him to grind it away. Instead, it kept pushing forward, expanding, shrinking, then expanding again as it thrust into his hole.

"Get out, get out you...you..."

He could feel something oozing from it, a slime that was making his insides warm and...warm and nice. It was doing something to his prostate, and his morning wood thrust right up out of his sheath. He bit his lips, trying to pull his thoughts back to what was happening, but the pleasure...

Oh fuck, the pleasure...

He started to buck forward, his eyes closing to slits as the slug went deeper and deeper into him. He could feel it coiling around in his bowels, pushing up against his prostate, the tail still sticking out.

Sit and squat.

The command came, and he moaned as he felt it come with pleasure. He got up to his knees, then onto the balls of his feet, holding his paws out like a begging house pet. The tail swished back and forth, wagging slowly, and each wag brushed against his rim, sliming it up like a good boy. He moaned, his dick twitching in time to the wagging slug tail out of his ass.

The Hive is All.

He didn't understand, but it seemed important. Derek, jock that he was, nodded, responding like a good, well-trained teammate.

"The Hive is All."

The Hive is All.

Grant heard the phrase in his sleep, and by the time that he had opened his eyes, he felt it echoing through his skull. The mouse didn't know what it meant, but he could feel it...grinding on him. And...

And his head felt wet. Felt wrong. Felt...stuffed. The mouse grunted, trying to roll his head to the side, but it didn't want to move. His ears didn't want to twitch. His arms didn't want to do what they were told.

Then he felt it. The wriggle, the pressure, the growth of something that was slowly grinding down into his ear canal.

"Mmmph..."

The Hive is All. The Hive is All. The Hive-Hive-Hive is All.

There was more than one voice in his head, more than one sound that was echoing through his skull. He groaned, tossing and turning inside even as his body refused to obey his commands. All he wanted to do was see what was going on, but he couldn't even turn enough to see the mirror on the wall.

What...what's...happening?

Something was wriggling down his ear canal, opening his head up. He tried to close his ears, to pull them back, but the slimy thing just kept expanding, tunneling, pushing deeper than it should. He gasped for breath, trying to control it, but the feeling of something squelching and squishing down his ear was just getting louder and louder, harder and harder to ignore.

Then...then he saw something else.

A slug, an impossibly long slug coming out from under his pillow. It lifted its body up, its head pointing towards his lips. It seemed to bob back and forth almost like a snake, leaning up, then pulling back, then pushing forward a bit.

The smooth head kissed his lips, then pushed between them. He wanted to close his mouth, to bite, to do anything to stop it from going further, but it kept sliding in.

The Hive is All.

The phrase repeated again, this time by a slightly newer voice. Another one. That had to be four of them, or...or five? It was hard to tell.

But they were pushing in, making it harder to think, making it more like they would do the thinking for him.

No, no, wait. No, he was...he was the one that did the thinking, they were the ones that did the deciding. They were...they were integrating with him...pushing in...one in his ear, one in his mouth, one in the other ear -

"Ah!"

And one sticking out of his ass. Four of them, for sure, and maybe more already inside. Their tails swayed around, sticking out of him, pushing out into the air and seeking each other out. Every time that they made contact with one another, they seemed to grab hold, seeking out what they had, and every time they made contact, he gasped for breath, sucking down air and thrusting his hips forward.

Fuck...fuck...fuck...

He was getting hit with one blast of bliss after another, but more than that, he was getting filled with information. The creatures, the aliens - aliens, real aliens - were talking to each other, and with so many around, he was understanding them.

The more that they had, the more of the Hive there were, the better they were able to function. They shared information, holding onto what they drained from the people that they infested. The more of the parasites touched each other at once, the more information could be held, shard, expanded on. It was an exponential thing. It wasn't like two slugs could hold twice as much as one. Two slugs were one slug squared, and three cubed, and...

It was hard to follow, particularly when he was getting hit with one blast of bliss after another, and with that phrase burning through his head.

The Hive is All.

"The Hive is All."

Bret was a horse, and he was used to running away from things. He wasn't used to them chasing him down, nor was he used to something catching him and making him feel like a faggot.

The stallion gasped, dragging himself up the wall at the edge of his room. He was panting for breath, his thick cock slowly pushing up in the jockstrap that he'd worn to bed. It was getting harder and harder the further that fucking slug went up his ass, and the pressure that it was putting on that little button in his butt was all to blame for this.

"Fuck...not...not interested in...butt stuff..."

He stomped his hoof, not for the first time. The remnants of another slug had been smeared over it, one that he'd managed to stomp before the other one had hooked onto his tail and swung up between his ass cheeks. For a few seconds, he'd thought that he'd been able to clench hard enough to keep it on the other side, but he had been horribly disappointed a few seconds later when it wriggled in.

His pucker was held wide open, the slug holding itself there and widening itself the longer that he tried to resist. He bit his lips, leaning his head against the wall as his cock hardened further and further, getting thicker and wider the more that he tried to resist it. There was no way that he was going to cum from butt-stuff, not unless he was the one fucking that butt...

But his cock was throbbing so hard, and his jockstrap was getting so wet.

The thing inside of him, that slug, was twisting around and rubbing his insides with so much slime that it was impossible for him to think straight. His eyes were rolling back in their sockets, his hips thrusting forward in an attempt to cum without getting off from his butt, and he couldn't stop himself.

"Nnngh...fuck..."

The slug was doing something, too, words that were coming into his head. Had to be a hallucination, some kind of poison or something that was coming off of the fucking thing. He leaned his head back -

Hard.

The slug's word hit him, and he stiffened, everything going hard and tense in his body. He couldn't stop himself, like his muscles had just been struck by a painless cramp that ran from his head all the way down to his hooves.

"Nnngh..."

Relax.

He stopped being stiff, going limp, his cock flopping down for a moment but still dripping. Bret rolled back, his back slamming against the wall.

"Nnngh...need...need help..."

The horse tried to take a step towards the door -

Hard.

And just like that, he stiffened up once more, his muscles so hard and stiff and tense that he couldn't move in the slightest. He felt like he was the strongest man in the house, but despite that, he couldn't even move.

The parasite wriggled in, the thickness in his ass pushing further into his hole. He could feel his pucker starting to come together again, but as the edge of the tail pulled in, he could feel that it still gaped. All the tensing, all the flexing, had left him with less tightness back there. His hole was open, now, probably looking like some tail-raising slut that had been running around between the big guys.

He flushed with embarrassment, but couldn't move. He still couldn't get out of the tenseness that held him still.

Relax.

And then the word came, and he just about collapsed on the floor, falling flat on his face. He gasped for breath, rolling on his back -

Hard.

"GAH!"

He thrust upwards, his cock rising with the rest of him, then forced tense as he was made to hold a bridge pose. His dick pointed right back down at his face, and he knew that he was right on the edge of orgasm. His cock was throbbing behind the jockstrap, about to blow completely. He shivered, panted, moaned under his breath.

It was going to paint him with seed, and it was going to make him look like one of the girls that had come by the frat a few days ago. He'd look like he'd just sucked a guy off.

And that was going to be the humiliation to end all humiliations, he swore. He tried to shift, tried to move -

Fertilize.

The slug commanded him, and he moaned, cumming through his jockstrap. The dark stain spread across the front of it, and a few unlucky strings of cum came shooting through the fabric right at his face. They ran down the sides of his face, marking him with his own scent. He shivered, then moaned as the parasite tail pushed out of his ass, pushing up towards his taint, and then towards his balls.

The Hive is All.

The hive...what the fuck...was the hive...

Yet, as he laid there, the slug kept squeezing his prostate, forcing pleasure down his cock and balls, and his balls felt like they were churning, swelling, bulging.

He felt...good.

He felt...strong.

The Hive is All.

"The Hive is All."

It came to him, and it didn't leave. He didn't know what to say, what to do, but he knew what he needed, and it was the hive.

Patrick was aware of the progress of the different slugs on the top floor, all too aware of them as they took one host after another. Some of them had better luck than the rest, as there were deaths and there were those that were doing better, getting a host that was better suited to them.

Each of them would perform a different function for the Hive. Bret, the horse, would be a soldier and a breeder, someone that would tempt others to come to him with his muscular body. No pheromones, like some would have, but the Hive would be able to use him to bring others in for breaking down. That, and his muscles would work well if they had to fight something or someone.

In another room, Derek was already shivering, gasping, panting as he was converted over to another laborer. Not that much different than Patrick, but with a better grasp of his mind. He'd be able to blend in better, someone that the fox could send out or ask to do things when he wouldn't be able to blend in as well as the rest of them.

Grant was the most unique of them, and an unintentional boon to the Hive. He had been infested in the head before the ass, and he had become a Brain. With several slug parasites in him, he would be able to retain information and decide things for the Hive faster than any of the other hosts that were in the building, giving him a better purpose than a mere laborer.

It was not the same as having a full set of information, though. The Hive was ever more convinced that they needed something beyond the frat house, something that would give them a bit more intelligence about the world they were in. Patrick and the others were giving them something, but it was unfinished, indistinct, and muddled by thoughts of beer, girls, and games.

It is not sufficient, the slug in him said. This is not enough.

Patrick didn't know how to apologize, but he knew that it would be required. He just would have to figure out how.

As the straining and struggles came to a close, he walked by the different doors of his fraternity brothers. Most of them were still huffing and puffing, but none of them were actively fighting anymore.

Derek was probably at the best of them. He had been a bit scared, but he hadn't been so unwilling as Bret was. The immature slug in his ass was keeping him happy, giving him blasts of pleasure to make him stop thinking about what had happened. It was clear that he was eager to give in more, and his cock throbbed as he slowly stroked it, giving himself a reward for giving in to the parasite.

Of course, that didn't mean that he was ready to be released, yet. He was still being converted to full drone-hood, and that meant that he needed at least another hour before he was completely turned to their cause.

The others were taking longer. Grant was definitely struggling, the mouse's eyes hazy and his body sweaty. He was clearly struggling with information overload from the parasites, considering there were so many to share and talk inside of his body. Tendrils stuck out of his ears, the slugs probably both sharing one half of his brain, and experimenting how to pull themselves towards the back of his head to share a link without being obvious about how they looked.

He'd be one that was more drained than the others, more easily tired by pretending to be normal, but they needed Brains in the Hive. If they didn't have that sort of thinker, then they'd be useless as they tried to expand, as stupid as their worst hosts.

Another room down, and there was Bret. The black-furred horse was thrusting up and then flopping down by turns, his muscles seeming to grow a bit each time. He wasn't turning into some muscle monster, but the parasite was definitely giving him a boost to the gains that he already had, taking him from fit footballer to someone that would not have been out of place in a heavy gym.

The fact that Bret was hard as a rock didn't escape him, either. Patrick had no interest in cock, but the parasite in him would make him go and give in, if it decided that he needed to learn a lesson.

All in all, the whole thing was well on its way. There were other frat members downstairs that they would gradually take care of, but the upstairs was all but done. The Hive had its hold, and they would keep it.

It was noon when someone finally came upstairs to check on things. It was one of the assistant managers of the housing operation, and the Hive realized from its hosts that an inspection was forthcoming.

Bret, Grant, Derek, and Patrick all waited for the giraffe inspect at the top of the stairs, none of them wearing anything more formal or tighter than a t-shirt and pair of sweats. The giraffe looked at them, arched an eyebrow, and leaned against the stair railing.

"Is this what passes for frat pride these days?"

"Just a surprise, man," Derek said, the first one to hide the worries that they were feeling. "Didn't think that we had an inspection for a few more days."

"We're due. Better to make sure that you'll all ship-shape before someone higher up decides this place needs to be torn down. College kids..."

There was obvious annoyance in the giraffe's voice, and all the members of the Hive could pick up on it. He didn't think they were treating the building with respect, and he already planned on finding a way to punish them.

The Hive could live with that, but considering the rock nest was still in the open in one of their rooms, there was no way that they could allow him to find it. The only way to ensure that he didn't was to slug him, infest him.

The four of them decided that in less than a second, and Patrick smiled.

"Can we start with my room, sir?"

"A little respect? Heh. Sure."

The giraffe nodded, gesturing for the fox to take the lead and he did just that. He walked slowly, allowing the other members of the frat to follow. With his mouth open, he could hear and taste the subsonic vibrations coming from the other members, and he could almost 'hear' them pushing their tails out of assholes and touching each other.

They had a plan. They would work it out.

He walked into his dorm, and the giraffe followed. Patrick walked around the bed, kneeling down by the side of it.

"Ah, what are you looking for?" the inspector asked.

"Just getting my stuff out of the way."

"Stuff, or drugs?"

"Neither."

Thump. The door slammed shut, and just like that, Bret had already grabbed the giraffe. They pulled him off his feet, then slammed him down in the bed, Derek and Grant pinning the giraffe's arms and shoving a pair of used briefs into his mouth as a gag, while Bret got to work pulling the inspector's pants down.

His muffled complaints and shouts didn't go further than the room, thankfully. Shaking his head, Patrick lifted the next from the ground, holding his hand out to the hole in the rock.

As if summoned by one of its brethren, a newly-hatched slug came wriggling free. It landed on his palm, looking up at him, and then back to the squirming giraffe in the room. It had sensed a host that was uninfected.

"Mmmph! MMMMMPH!"

As Bret yanked the giraffe's pants off, everyone had a perfect view of the inspector's rather lovely ass. It was a nice, thick rump, the sort that someone that kept himself in shape and went to the gym just a little too often had. The sort that sticks in the mud taunted those under them with.

The slug expanded, stretching out and up until it showed off a full foot of slug flesh and length. The giraffe screamed louder against his gag.

"The Hive is All," they said in unison.

Patrick knelt down as Bret pulled the giraffe's legs up and over his head. It exposed that hole perfectly, and he leaned down with the slug, holding it near the warm, twitching, puckering entrance. The Hive knew what to do. They were all born knowing how to infest someone else.

Without warning, the slug darted towards that twitching pucker, the head thinning out as the slug stretched further and further. The giraffe arched his back, struggling to get free, but it was too late. There was no escape for him, no chance that he would be able to get out from under three other members of the Hive.

For the first time, Patrick had an up-close view of the slug as it worked its way into a host. It thinned itself out by stretching as far as it could go, becoming as slender as a syringe as it forced its way into the host's hole. All the slime on the outside made it easy for the parasite to go where it needed to go, and beyond that, it was able to fatten itself up as it pulled more of its lower body forward, weakening the hole, stretching it out.

Every move dragged it closer and closer to the home inside. The slug slipped from his fingers, falling across the giraffe's tail base, and then slithered upwards, crawling, sliming the giraffe's flesh as it went.

"Mmmph!"

"He's not struggling as much..."

"The Hive calls him."

"Is it in?"

"Almost," Patrick said, staring at the slug's progress. It was halfway inside, at least, less than six inches still protruding. That meant that the head had probably stretched up to the prostate, and -

"Mmmph!"

The giraffe grunted again, trying to throw his body around, but this time, it was less violent. If anything, he seemed like he was trying to thrust up...

And no surprise, considering his cock was gradually growing harder and harder. The slug had found his prostate, getting it nice and sensitive. The inspector's shaft was erect in record time, soon oozing over the big guy's belly.

"Tails..."

Patrick wasn't sure who said it. It might have even been him, but it didn't matter. The four members of the Hive pushed out their tails, flexing their assholes to push most of their slugs free.

They moved close, squatting down around the giraffe and pushing their asses towards him. One slug, two, three, four, each one of them eagerly waiting for the information that would come from the new host.

They brushed against each other, too, sharing information and emotions. Excitement, lust, eagerness, happiness. Each of them wanted to play more, and each one of them wanted to feel what the new host had to give them. Curiosity. Yes, curiosity was the biggest emotion between the four of them.

Finally, the slug tail started pushing back out. It reached out, curiously and blindly, and the four of them grabbed for it.

The pleasure of two tails meeting was exponentially stronger as five tails touched together. As one, the four conditioned hosts went stiff, tense, gasping for breath as their cocks throbbed in their pants.

More than that, though, they felt the information going into the parasites that controlled them. The transfer of information itself was a pleasure, but they could feel things...changing. The Hive was able to think more clearly, more information making the parasites themselves more intelligent.

The inspector had just come from a meeting, one that had been chaired by someone from outside the college. Someone that had come with a request from higher-up, the government, the inspector thought.

But only thought. There had been no proof, and the inspector's thoughts were not facts.

However, the Hive was made aware of a search going through the other frat houses and sorority dwellings on campus, which meant that someone was looking for something. The Hive wasn't intelligent enough yet to know what it was, but they knew that they couldn't rely on staying hidden forever.

More than that, they were becoming ever more conscious of the fact that they needed proper intelligence. Grant worked for solving the basic things, for giving them the first Brain for the Hive, but they needed someone better read, better studied. They needed someone that would give them proper intelligence.

The Hive conversed, their tails grinding and rubbing as the comatose giraffe was conditioned with pleasure and mental pressure. The hosts were kept sidelined, almost like children while parents were talking about what was going to be done about a potential disaster. They were kept quiet while the 'adults' talked.

It was decided that their end goal would be to take down the one that had started the inspection and find out what he knew. The Hive could not grow while they were being hunted, and the only way to stop the hunt was to stop the Hunter. It would give them time to think, and more than that, information and brains with which to think.

A Hive that was stupid was a hive that was bound to destruction. They had learned that on their former home planet, and they would not repeat the mistakes of their forebears. They couldn't afford to.

Patrick heard all of this, but only barely cared as he drifted further and further into pleasure...

The End