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The Hive of Debauchery

Part 4

For FlimFlamFun5

By Draconicon

The pleasure drawn from interfacing with the newly-hosted slug was as potent as ever, but unlike the other hosts, Grant was able to hold himself together. The other slugs in his body were not partaking of the pleasure, and they were able to help him stay steady, allowing his brain to work. After all, he was converted to be a Brain, so he had best be able to think.

Hmmm...concerning.

The mouse had always done his best to balance the work that he put into the sports part of his college career and the more intellectual pursuits, and that was why he had been allowed to keep more of his intelligence. Keep, and boosted it, for that matter. He stared forward as the slug in his ass continued to stroke and fondle the one in Mr. Gascon's rump.

Mr. Gascon. Full name, Timothy Gascon, employed with the NSA's tertiary agency for dealing with extraterrestrial individuals. In other words, the fox really was involved with an agency that was supposed to be dealing with the aliens that were sneaking through the skies and landing on earth.

That said, he wasn't very good at it. Grant could see the memories being downloaded, see how the fox had been just a bit too pervy in a case further out, in a more populated area of the country, and had managed to get himself kicked down the ladder to this out of the way place in the middle of nowhere. Timothy had never been a rising star, to be fair, but out here, he had no chance to get anywhere.

And that was for the good of the Hive, Grant thought. Someone like him would be hard-pressed to convince anyone in his agency - the NSA-ETD - that there was anything happening. He was disgraced to the point of being abandoned.

If he had sent a report out, though, someone would have had to come and check it out. That was procedure. However, Timothy had been so eager to make a name for himself again that he hadn't bothered to tell anyone at headquarters that anything had landed out here. He wanted to be the one to find it, to be the one to clear his name, and that hubris had led him to keep his mouth shut while going about his own investigation.

It was a relief. The Hive was still safe, for now.

Grant stood up, his anal slug sliding back into its dark, musky home, and he stepped away from the pinned arctic fox. He sat down at the desk, one hand under his chin as he contemplated the possibilities before them.

The various slugs in his head were tossing ideas back and forth between them. They had an agent now, which meant that they had a smokescreen to keep them from being noticed immediately. They still had to deal with the police, though, and...

Think it through, Grant thought at the slugs. Take it slow. We have time.

They listened, and so did he.

Option 1. Aggression.

The first slug laid out the possibilities and advantages of that direction. They could use the authority that Timothy had to get around the police, setting up private zones where they could corrupt and infect people as they wished, moving faster than they could do without someone to keep the authorities off their back. It would mean that they could take the whole college much faster, particularly if it was set up as a quarantine zone that kept the police from entering and the students and staff from leaving.

On the other hand, that would mean that the NSA-ETD would eventually get involved. That was a huge abuse of power, and without something to show that it was worth it, Timothy would be investigated and the Hive, more than likely, completely exposed. The question was whether they'd have enough hosts to be able to stand up to the agency by the time they were found.

Grant doubted it. There were only so many students here, and while he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, he knew that the government would have quite a few more resources to throw at them than the Hive was able to handle right then.

Option 2. Interference.

The second slug was definitely keener on this idea, pushing the possibility of using Timothy as a smokescreen for their operations at the college. Rather than keeping the police off their backs, he would keep sending messages back to his agency about how well things were going here, that there was no alien presence to worry about. All they'd have to deal with were the locals, who were not nearly as well-equipped to hold them back.

Of course, that had the disadvantage of taking a great deal more time. They'd be doing the same thing that they were doing before, but with the assurance that they'd be able to take over the college without anyone in the earth government finding out what they were doing.

The slugs were divided on which route to take. Some of them wanted to be more aggressive, to snare as many hosts as possible while they still could. After all, they were a species on the verge of extinction. Their planet had destroyed itself, and there was very little chance that the other rock nests had managed to find a home somewhere else. If they didn't solidify their grip on a substantial number of hosts, they could die out just from a lack of breeders.

On the other hand, the ones that wanted to slow it down and be safe had a good point, too. They couldn't fight back against a government that was as well-armed as the one that this planet seemed to have. There were stories in the host brains that the slugs had seen of the sort of massacres that they would perpetrate on their own species if they had to; the slugs would not live through that.

The debate was moving in lockstep, each side making a contribution that the other would cancel out. Grant watched from the outside as an observer while the rest of the Hive moaned and groaned from the interface with Timothy. He did his best to ignore the mini-orgy happening before him, listening to the slugs instead.

Finally, he had to break the stalemate. Grant, the first Brain, cleared his throat.

We do it quietly.

The slugs paused, metaphorically turning to look at him. At least, the attention and presences in his brain turned to look at his mental self.

We do it quietly, and we use Timothy as a way to keep them off of us.

The Brain speaks. Why?

You wanted someone to think for you. You wanted a source of information. Let me be that.

You are a host. A piece of the Hive.

My species thinks better alone. I can think things through without needing the others. And I...

He hesitated, much as it pained him. The Hive had pulled him in, and he owed them for the greater intelligence that they gave him. He should have a greater loyalty, but he still hesitated.

The slugs noticed, and he felt the pressure that they exerted on his inner parts, on his prostate, on his skull, and elsewhere.

Speak, they said together.

I can think for you, and tell you what you need without you rooting through my head for all of it. I know what this situation requires, and it's not more hosts.

The slugs paused, and he could feel them judging what he said. Their connection with him was buzzing with activity, and he was filled with both pleasure and pressure as he felt so many different intelligences pressing down on his own thoughts, pulling them free and examining them. Grant had to brace himself to handle it all, barely holding himself together.

Eventually, the slugs let him have his space again, conferring a bit with themselves. He could feel them speaking, but not hear what they said. They were not displeased, though. He could feel that much.

The mouse's ears twitched, rubbing along the ends of the slugs that wrapped around the back of his head like a partial circlet. He took a deep breath, shifting back and forth on the table as the slugs wriggled about in him.

Speak further.

They were willing to listen. That was good. He smiled slightly.

_We have someone to keep the government from interfering. We use that, first, and then spread through the college. If we can get everyone here, then that means that we have someone in every major house in town. When the next break comes, and they go home, then we have someone to spread it to all the other families.

Even better, we can send some of them home to their families abroad._

Abroad?

Not every student comes from this town. Some of them are from far away. If we can hide the Hive until the summer vacations, then we can send most of them away, and we'll have parts of the Hive all over the country. Even in different parts of the world.

It was ambitious, of course. The Hive would have a difficult time getting through all the scanners at the airports and other ports of travel, and he knew that there would be difficulties keeping them hidden until that time. They had too many lustful proclivities for them to be able to hide everything between now and the summer vacations. But if they were able to hide most of it, and make sure that they didn't do anything stupid...

Well, there was every chance that they would have a way of making the Hive impossible to put down. They would be too far spread for the rest of the world to get rid of them without getting rid of themselves.

They will not perform self-extermination?

The fact that the slugs asked told him a lot. Grant blinked as he realized that the parasites were completely serious with the question, not even joking in the slightest. They really believed that a species would perform an act of self-extermination if it would get rid of their enemies. For a moment, he wondered if that had been what had happened to their old planet.

After all, the slugs were not telling them much about where they came from, or what had chased them away from their old world. They had mentioned that it was gone, that they were planet-less, but that was all that he or the other hosts had been allowed to know. Grant was curious, but not curious enough to ask and press his luck on the matter.

Instead, he shook his head.

We aren't that kind of species. We will do everything that we can to make things better, to live through something. Mutual extermination would be a loss for us, rather than a win.

An interesting cultural idea.

And one that would be to the benefit of the slugs, he could tell. They were already thinking it through, going through the ramifications of this. It meant that they would be able to hold onto the planet easier, if they could get a substantial minority of the population under their control. The planet would not try and get rid of them.

Grant fed them more information, what little he knew and guessed. They needed to keep quiet, needed to spread their numbers, so that when they were found - because they couldn't hide forever - they were too numerous to be just stamped out.

There's...another thing, too.

The slugs stopped their self-congratulating to listen to him. He felt that he had earned some respect from the master parasites from this, and he felt proud of that, but it made what he was about to say that much harder.

We need smarter people in the Hive.

The slugs didn't respond right away. If anything, they seemed vaguely puzzled, confused. He got the feeling from the Hive that they were not entirely sure what he meant. After all, wasn't he the Brain? Wasn't he the smart one?

Grant reluctantly shook his head, the mouse's tail twitching as he looked down at the ground. He could feel that Timothy alone was smarter than him, but that wasn't what he meant. Or at least, it wasn't the only thing that he meant.

There's smarter people in the college than me. Much smarter. Egg-heads that are willing to think of anything that they can, just for the sake of challenging themselves with things that they don't know just yet. They want to learn, they want to be smarter and smarter all the time, and they're the ones that you need for Brains.

He didn't want to lose his job, but he didn't want to be less than honest with the slugs, either. They needed the best if they wanted to succeed in this invasion, and as good as he was, he wasn't the best. They needed to start taking in the smart people, too...

And the breeders, as well, he made sure to point out in their little mental communion. For all that they had laid eggs, for all that the parasites could start to replicate slowly inside of their hosts, they needed something that would make eggs and more faster for them. They needed something that would start building up their numbers, because, as Bret had proved, they could be easily destroyed if they were caught before they infested someone.

The slugs in his body were slow to accept this. He could feel that they were definitely more interested in getting main hosts than getting ones that would build up their numbers over time, than doing this slowly, but they were listening. They knew that he had a point, and they were willing to at least think about it.

It was a marked departure from how many old legends and sci-fi stories talked about the parasitic alien invasion. In those, the parasites and aliens never listened to the ones that they took over. They just did what they wanted, and the unfortunate anthros were made to be slaves.

Not so in this case. He didn't know what was happening for Bret or Derek, or even with Roland and Timothy, or with Patrick, but he knew that he was being listened to. They were allowing him to speak his mind, and they were listening to his expertise, such as it was, on the situation. That was not supposed to be how this went, but he was glad that it was the case.

The slugs eventually had to agree with him. They told him that they wanted a list of people, of names and faces that would be good for them to take over. In his relief that they were going along with his plan, Grant was happy to give them everything that they wanted.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Timothy, eventually completely converted, was given his orders. He was told to go back to his office and file his normal report, saying that there was nothing out of the ordinary, and that he would continue to keep an eye out for any sort of extraterrestrial activity that the NSA-ETD would be interested in. The arctic fox agreed to that, though he had his eyes on Bret the whole time.

Oddly enough, the horse was blushing a bit. Grant figured that the whole thing would have been just a parasite-ordered fucking, but perhaps there was some pleasure that the other male had taken out of it after all. It was something to remember, at least, in case it became a problem later.

Roland was told to start organizing different meetings, isolated things where the slugs could be brought to infest small numbers of people at a time. Until they had greater numbers, they had to work slow. They had to be sure that they had enough people at each meeting to subdue those that were infested until they were completely controlled, until they were part of the Hive.

After that, it was decided that they would move on the clubs that dotted the campus, from the Photography Club to the Journalism Club, and from there...

Well, it would be decided what they needed. Grant had made it clear that they needed to start working with other brains, first, but he also knew that they needed more muscle. He suggested that the meetings that Roland set up be either among some of the brightest students, under the pretense that they were getting offered more difficult classes, or with the bigger jocks that were failing theirs and needed a way to keep getting college credit.

The slugs liked the ideas, and the Hive ordered that Roland get on with it. The giraffe left, going back to his offices at the administration building to get the plans in motion. Derek and Bret went back to the frat house, while Grant...

Grant walked down to the library, and the slugs were willing enough to let him do it. They seemed rather fascinated with him, for some reason, and they were giving him more slack to do what he wanted, almost like they were curious to see what he would end up doing. The feeling was rather strange, but he went with it.

The mouse walked through the library's automatic doors, nodded absently at the lynx librarian, and then made his way over to one of the computers at the far end of the building. The row of desks and computers were completely abandoned aside from him, since it was lunchtime and nobody else was using the library for once.

As he sat there, he laid his hands on the keyboard, looking like he was going to do some research. But as he idly typed nonsense into the word processor, he talked to the slugs in his head.

What do you want? he asked.

They didn't answer immediately, almost like they were mildly confused. The feeling, rather than the image, of heads cocked to the side filled his mind.

Why do you want us? Is this more than survival?

It was something that he'd been wondering ever since his slugs had set up shop in his head. If it was merely survival, evolution, then the slugs would have slid in and wiped out his mind, turning him into a meat sack that would allow them to go from place to place without being immediately noticed. If they were stupid beasts, capable of nothing but survival, then they would have left him a meat shell and he would be effectively dead rather than a collaborator.

Instead, they were walking him around, planning with him, working with him. Hell, they were giving him thanks for what he had come up with, and that was not the way that this was supposed to work at all. He knew that there was something else going on, had to be, and he wanted an answer.

After a second or two, the slugs responded.

We are simple. We grow by being with others. We grow by being in others. And as we grow, so does the Hive. And as the Hive grows, we grow with it.

It's a mutual relationship?

Yes. When we are smart, the Hive is smarter. The more we touch, the more we learn, the better we get.

That was something. It meant that, technically, they could probably live off of the lower species on the planet. They could infest rats, or cats, or dogs, the feral ones, and then make a go at surviving that way. But if they did...

Well, the Hive would not grow. They would stay dumb.

Do you remember being smart before?

Yes.

But...you just hatched. You hatched yesterday.

We remember. The Hive is All, and the Hive remembers.

Genetic memory? It's passed down between all of you?

Yes.

The more he learned, the more curious he felt. They were so different from other species on the planet, considering that there was no evidence that genetic memory actually existed on earth. But if that was the case with them, it meant that they were able to remember being in other hosts, and more than that...

More than that, they remembered being smarter than they were now. They remembered that they had once been greater, that they had probably had species under their control that were brilliant, that made his brain look like nothing more than a peanut in comparison.

He blushed, looking down at the computer keyboard. In a way, he felt sorry for them. They were...they were not used to this level of deprivation, he imagined, even though they had just been born.

I will do my best for you.

You have served us well. You will be rewarded.

The prostate slug sudden clenched down, and Grant hissed, leaning forward over the keyboard to keep from being quite so obvious. Suddenly, he was grateful that he was alone at the back of the library; the last time that someone had acted like a pervert back here, he had been kicked out, never allowed back in.

The idea of being caught cumming in his pants, as some of the others had done since getting a slug back there, was not one that was unattractive, however.

The image burned in his brain, fed by the slugs around it, of him being stripped by them, of the tendrils in his ears reaching down and pulling his shirt off, of the one in his ass pushing out and melting holes in his pants to show him off. The slugs hit him with more and more sexy ideas, even going so far as to push the tendril in his ass out again, sliding it along his taint and under his balls as his prostate was played with.

"Mmmph..."

You are a good Brain. You will be rewarded.

He gasped under his breath, the tail of the prostate slug rubbing under his balls, rolling them from side to side and reminding him just how sensitive they were. He huffed for breath, struggling to keep his head on straight as the pleasure started mounting. His cock was throbbing hard already, pushing forward against the front of his pants and making quite a tent as he struggled to keep to his seat.

Another clench, another rub, his cock throbbing up harder than ever as his asshole clenched and squeezed on that tail. That, in turn, almost felt like having his cock inside of a woman spasming down on him, and he shivered. It was like he had two cocks, one in front, and one sticking out of his ass.

"Mmmph...nnngh..."

He shoved a fist in his mouth to try and keep quiet, blushing so hard that his ears felt like they were on fire. He lowered his head, trying to keep from being seen, too, but god it was hard.

The tail of the anal slug was under his cock, now, rubbing against it and forcing it up. He shivered as it wrapped around the base, squeezing it like a slippery, slimy set of fingers.

"Mmmph..."

Is this not pleasurable?

I'm...I'm gonna...cum if you keep this up...

Is that not desired?

He couldn't entirely answer that. The urge was there, for sure, but the possibility of getting caught, the idea of someone finding him with his pants soaked...the chance of getting someone else so horny to join him...

Cum.

The command echoed from multiple slugs at once, and he couldn't hold back. The mouse gasped, stifling his moan against his fist as he came in his pants right then and there. His cock jumped in his jeans, dragging the sensitive tip against his underwear as he spurted, as he squirmed, as he shivered.

He felt every rope of seed rushing down his cock, felt every single throb that meant another blast of it had filled his underwear. He moaned into his hand, whimpering, blushing, shivering as he felt the slime getting thicker and slicker against his cock.

More, more, more of it came, more than any normal male could cum in that short a time, and he knew that there was going to be a stain to end all stains on the front of his pants. The sensation was like grinding into slippery mud, a bit grimy, a bit sandy, but nothing bad. He shivered, not daring to look down for the longest time, even as he felt the slippery muck in his pants...even as he heard the squelching sound of that mess with the tail rubbing the base of his cock.

Is this good?

The slugs' question demanded an answer. He had to look down. He had to see the damage.

So he did, and he whistled.

His light-blue jeans had been darkened completely in the crotch, and he shivered as he realized that he must have cum more than he thought to change it that much. Grant knew that there would be very little way of hiding that, and he'd have to pretend that he'd had an accident or something like that.

Yet, at the same time, he noticed something else. There was a sweet scent in the air, something different from the usual smell after someone came. It wasn't musky, exactly, but rather like...like fruit, like he had been dousing himself in some sort of perfumed body spray.

Not the best excuse in the world, but certainly a lot better than some of the alternatives. He could say that some girl sprayed him or that he had dropped a present for someone down there. Much better excuse than the original idea.

This is bad?

It is...not convenient. It makes me stand out more.

This will be remembered.

They weren't friendly, he had to remember. The parasite slugs were willing to listen to him, but that didn't mean that they were going to do everything that he asked. What he'd gotten from them so far was a bit of privilege, likely because he was a Brain rather than one of the muscle men or laborers of the Hive, but that didn't mean that he would get these favors all the time.

Particularly once there were more brains.

Grant took a deep breath, putting his hands on the desk. He should get back to the frat house. Now that he knew what the Hive wanted, he could do better at getting it for them. They would be happy about that, and he would be able to maintain a good position in the Hive for a while longer.

Still, it made him gasp slightly as his cock dragged against the front of his soaked pants, and he blushed a bit as he walked out of the library. The lynx looked at him as he left, raising her eyebrows, but she didn't say anything.

The frat house was as loud as ever when he returned. He opened his mouth at the front door, quietly calling out to them with the 'ah...ah...ah...', and they called back. They were upstairs, away from the big party.

The mouse snuck around, avoiding the larger groups. He couldn't entirely avoid notice, considering that there were people everywhere, and there were a few jokes about the state of his pants as he walked through the frat. As ever, Grant laughed them off, saying that the other guys in the frat should be so lucky to have a girl juice like that for them.

It got him a couple of laughs, and a couple of glares. He enjoyed the former, and remembered the latter.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Patrick was waiting. The fox wasn't in the best of ways, his eyes more vacant than the other members of the Hive and obviously struggling to keep himself looking normal. Even if Grant hadn't known what had happened to him, though, the mouse would have realized that something was wrong after a few seconds of staring into that dead, robotic face.

It was a warning to him, and to everyone else. Keeping Patrick around instead of getting rid of him showed what the parasites could do to him, to Derek, to anyone that violated what the slugs wanted. No matter how much the slugs needed hosts, they needed secrecy more, and the independence that the Hive allowed them was something that could be rescinded quickly, particularly as they gained more hosts to serve them.

It was a warning that he took to heart.

"Patrick," he said, nodding.

"Mmmph..."

"Hmm?"

"Need...talk."

"You, or..."

"Me."

"What's up?"

"Room."

The fox nodded towards one of the rooms, and the mouse followed him in. Even then, Patrick moved like someone with Parkinson's, not quite right and with a definite worry of falling over. Whatever had happened, it had pulled more out of him than he could replace, and more than the slug could easily control on its own.

As soon as they were inside, Patrick slumped down on his bed. Grant shut the door behind him, shaking his head as the various slugs came loose. The two in his head lifted up from his ears, forming writhing, horn-like shapes, while the one in his ass pushed out further, running up and out of his waistband like it was some sort of tail.

It was the others in him moving that left him feeling off, though. A few in his guts dragging about, pushing around, reminding him that he had other things in him. It was not comfortable. He shook his head.

"What is it?"

"Slug. Wants experiment."

"Huh?"

"Wants sex."

"..."

"Not to infect. To feel."

He could tell how much effort it was taking Patrick to talk, and it hurt him to see that. But it was the request that made him confused. The slug wanted to experience sex? He cocked his head to the side.

"Do you want me to get one of the other frat guys, or -"

"No. N-no."

The fox shook his head, struggling to keep speaking.

"Wants Hive member. See how feels. Why we do."

Grant could feel the curiosity spreading, and the slugs in his head were definitely sparking interest in the same concept. Why did the species on the planet do what they did, after all? Why was there such an interest in the mating thing between different couples? Why did they do it when there was no breeding possible?

The experiment would be better between two of the Hive, they'd already decided. Grant groaned, rubbing his head, but he could already feel the pleasure forcing him hard, forcing his cock up.

"Mmmph..."

"Me top."

"Fine..."

He didn't know how this was going to work, considering that they both had slugs back there, but he imagined that the slugs didn't know either. At least this time, they were all on the same confused page.

The End