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Hive Control Part 3 For FlimFlamFun5 By Draconicon

Antoine might have been born with a fancy name, but the alligator had fallen on hard times over the last few years. Who knew that a cocaine habit would go from an occasional indulgence to being a dealer of it just to survive so quickly?

And it wasn't as if the alligator was a rich dealer, either. He made enough to afford a hotel room in an extended-stay place, but that was the extent of his earnings. Everything else came from food shelters, pity parties, and whatever else he could scrounge together between peddling his poison on the street. What had once been a party lifestyle that most would envy had become something that nobody could feel anything but pity for.

He didn't even have that many regular customers. Most of the money he got came from people that were touring the area, people that were pointed at him as someone that would keep his mouth shut and give them what they needed while they were away from their regular dealers. He knew that they all looked down on him, and he hated it.

He hated everything about his life, for that matter. It had lost all sense of purpose, and now, he was barely surviving day to day, just scrounging for that little bit that would give him a chance to make it to the next horrible day.

Sometimes, it felt like it'd be better to just end it all.

Antoine sighed as he pulled back the cardboard hiding the stash. It wasn't much. Maybe a few more baggies for the day, enough to make the next week's payment at the hotel, maybe enough left over for a burger if he was able to get one of the value meals at the local dive. He shook his head, sighing.

Then, he heard the rumble of a slowing engine. The alligator looked up, instinctively brushing some of the dirt off his old jacket as he glanced down the alley.

Mercedes, shaded windows, no back-up...yeah, rich guy.

A panther stepped out of the car, pulling his shirt together tightly, his eyes darting left and right. All the signs of the usual rich buyer were there, telling him that this was someone else that needed his product. At least this guy looked like he could afford it, rather than some of the other street bums that he had to deal with. Antoine pulled himself together, looking down at himself.

Not much he could do about his appearance. He was a sloppy sort of alligator at the best of times, but being on the streets had made it worse. His shoes were ratty, half-ripped in the toes and along the side, and his socks had seen much better days. Laundry day had been almost two weeks ago, so everything smelled at least a bit, no matter how many rain showers he tried to get while out and about.

His jacket was decent, though, and his jeans were mostly clean. A few slime stains in the back, but nothing too much to worry about. His shirt would be fine as long as he kept the jacket closed; the ripping white wifebeater had nothing good to it.

Just sell the product, then get back to the pity party. Nothing else going on.

Antoine got to his feet, putting a smile on his scaly face as he turned to the panther. The big guy looked at him with a steely gaze, something that would have put a bit of fear in him if he hadn't lost most of his self-preservation instincts a long time ago.

"Ah, may I assume that you are my next customer, then, sir?" Antoine asked.

"I hear that you got some goods."

"Plenty of the white stuff, if it suits your fancy, sir," the alligator said with a bob of his head. "The question is, do you have the funds for it?"

"I have plenty of that."

"Oh, I would imagine so, sir, but if I could see some?"

The panther narrowed his eyes, reaching into his jacket. He seemed to reach for one pocket, then stopped, reaching for another.

The cash in hand was more than enough to convince Antoine that he was legit, and the alligator nodded. It disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, and the dealer turned around, going back to his stash.

That'll cover the week, and a couple of meals, he thought as he bent forward. Just gotta make sure that he doesn't get greedy. No greediness means that I can still get a customer or two later...

He had just managed to get one of the bags out from behind the cardboard when a furry palm slammed into the back of his head, pinning him against the wall. Another grabbed his jacket, yanking it down and shredding his wifebeater in the process.

"Hey! Hey, what the fuck are you doing? Get off me!"

"Hiiiiiiiiisssssssss."

The panther leaned in behind him, his mouth opening wide as he kept the alligator pinned in place. The drug dealer squirmed, but he had been on the streets for so long, starving and weak, that he had none of the upper-body strength needed to dislodge someone that was trying to keep him down. He squirmed, he whimpered, he did everything that he could, but nothing got him loose.

As the feline reached back into his coat, Antoine imagined every possible problem. A badge? A gun? Some sort of message from a different dealer, telling him to get out of the business now while his legs still worked?

None of the above. Instead, the panther pulled out some sort of fleshy ball thing, one that unfolded as he hissed at it. It looked like some sort of leathery sheet of paper, something that was about to -

It flapped the 'wings' at its sides as the panther held it up, some sort of spine shooting out of the underside. It was stabbing about wildly, almost hitting him several times. He gasped, trying to pull himself out of reach, but -

"GAH!"

The needle spike stabbed right into the back of his neck, jabbing and digging in deeper and deeper as the little creature got hold of him. Antoine's eyes went wide, his voice going silent as the parasitic creature dug its way into him, helped by the panther's hand.

Bit by bit, it covered the back of his neck, and the needle continued to feed him chemicals, little doses that were making him go weak and limp...and hard...

His cock throbbed up in his jeans, pushing forward until it was achingly stiff. His pants constricted it, keeping the rod from pushing forward properly, forcing it to stay down and grow along his pants leg. The alligator couldn't move, couldn't shift position, couldn't do anything. All he could do was stand there, getting harder and harder as the creature on the back of his neck situated itself.

Ah...ah...

He couldn't even pant out loud, his long snout hanging open as he drooled a bit on himself, the needle in his neck wiggling ever so slightly as if to get a better angle.

Then, he heard the words that would change his life.

Hive is All.

Antoine moaned as the words echoed in his head, the alligator feeling something dragging him down, and in, and pulling him towards some final destination that felt all the sweeter for all that it offered him. His thoughts, already a bit clouded from desperation and a hint of his own product, faded further, drowned in the subservient cloud that was the pressure of the parasite on his neck.

Hive is All.

"Hive is all," he grunted in return.

Serve the Hive.

"I serve the Hive."

Serve and obey.

"Serve and obey..."

He was falling, unable to stop himself, and he no longer cared what was happening to him. All that mattered was that it was taking away what he was going through, giving him something better.

Hive was all, indeed.

In dirty pants with a soaked crotch, Antoine made his way to the local clinic. It was a step up from a drug and sex clinic, where it would have been a mess with doctors that didn't care in the slightest whether they got their patients better as long as they got paid. This one was more of a clinic that was kept in good condition for walk-in patients of lower income, and the doctors at least half-cared if the patients got better. Well, most of the time.

The alligator was among three other patients in the waiting room, and of all of them, he was the most stiff and still. He didn't fidget the way that they did, nor did he keep whipping his head around to look at different things. One might have considered him dead if they looked at him for too long and didn't see him breathing.

That was because he was deep in the conditioning of Hive, submitting himself to the neckhugger on the back of his neck, eagerly soaking up its teaching and conditioning. He wanted to feel welcome, wanted to be subservient, wanted to let something else be in charge. The fact that he had screwed up his own life so thoroughly made it clear that he needed something else to tell him what to do, and Hive offered that.

Let me serve, he thought.

You will, Hive answered.

The neckhugger was well-hidden by the jacket that he wore, something that the parasite seemed to appreciate, just as it seemed to appreciate his own damp body. It was mostly sweat and rain that hadn't evaporated yet, but it seemed to give the neckhugger plenty of what it needed, and it had seethed and writhed against his neck in a most happy manner ever since it had been implanted.

It was almost ready for the mission, and he was looking forward to doing what Hive commanded.

"Antoine?"

The clerk at the desk read his name from the paper, and he looked up, nodding his head immediately in acknowledgement. The young vixen fixed him with a stare of disapproval, but didn't say anything against him.

"The doctor will see you in exam room four."

Four. On the far side of the clinic, well away from the other rooms and the front desk. Just what he needed. Just what he wanted.

The alligator nodded, getting to his feet and walking down. The movement was stiff at first until Hive reminded him to walk normally, and he made himself relax, moving as he would have done before the parasite had come to him. It wanted him to do good, and he was going to be a good, devoted drone to the cause.

The exam room was already open, and he slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. The parasite wiggled on his neck, and without thinking about it, he obeyed the unspoken command to reach behind.

Something came free from the neckhugger, and he caught it just in time. Antoine brought his hand around, and he realized that it had created a second one, budding it off of the back of his neck.

The wetness...it lets them breed faster.

He immediately made resolutions to shower more often, to give them as much moisture as they needed. Hive seemed to approve of that.

Wait and show it to the doctor when he is not looking, Hive ordered, and Antoine nodded, getting up on the exam table and doing his best to keep quiet. The last thing that he wanted was to spoil the plan in his eagerness to be a good drone, but it was hard to hold his excitement back. For the first time, he felt like he was doing something good, something right, something better than he had been doing in the rest of his life.

I want to be good. A good drone. A good member of Hive. I will be good. I will be good.

The alligator forced himself to be patient, even as the rolled-up neckhugger behind him twitched against the base of his tail. He did his best to keep from nudging it, knowing without knowing how he knew that it was fragile, and would be until it attached itself to a host. He made sure to sit still, to stare straight ahead, to do nothing that would risk it.

Finally, the door opened, and the doctor - a wolverine - stepped inside. His name tag read Dr. Patterson, and he seemed to be in his middle age, his shoulders slightly stooped, wearing glasses rather than being plain-faced.

The wolverine looked up at him, and immediately, he had the same sort of face as the vixen in the main room had. Disapproving, almost annoyed at what was sitting in front of him, like the alligator was to blame for all of his problems and should just go out in an alley and die rather than bothering him.

Yet, the doctor didn't say anything, though he did double-glove his hands after he set the chart down in its slot on the wall. He shook his head, stepping forward.

"Now, what seems to be the problem, hmm?"

"Nnngh...feeling hot...and cold...and tired," the alligator managed to say, coming up with a lie. "Think I might be getting a bad fever, or something like mono."

"You let me do the thinking for right now, alright?"

"Okay, doc..."

The wolverine looked him over, clearing muttering to himself about the annoyance of treating the drug patients. Most of the patients like Antoine would have been too out of it to know what the doctor was saying, so he didn't entirely blame Dr. Patterson for thinking that he was no different.

"Always coming in here after they have a bad trip, thinking I can make it better. If they stopped self-dosing like this, they'd be just fine. No more problems, no more bad days. They'd just be able to go back to being productive members of society, but no. They just keep running from their problems, and their problems keep coming back to hammer them in the face..."

The alligator would have been offended if he had been at all interested in the doctor's opinion of him. As it stood, he was more focused on waiting for the precise time to slam the neckhugger down on the wolverine's neck. He needed to do it for Hive. He needed to get this done properly so that he could be a good member of Hive.

Just a bit more. Turn around. Make a mark on the chart. Do something.

"Looks like you do have an elevated temperature, at least," the wolverine admitted reluctantly. "Have you had any other symptoms?"

"Hard time getting up. Not hungry anymore. No appetite and no sleep."

"So, you can't eat and you have insomnia?"

"Yeah..."

"That's...different."

There was actual interest in the doctor's voice for the first time, and he turned to start writing something on the chart. Despite the fact that it was a risk, the alligator took his chance. He grabbed the neckhugger, felt it unfold in his hand, and lunged for the back of Dr. Patterson's neck.

The stinger shot out, and the doctor stiffened up, his eyes going wide. He stumbled backwards, the immature parasite not quite as powerful as the one that had taken him. It was still struggling to pull the man's brain down to the right state, and it meant that the wolverine was able to stumble back from the door, pull away from the alligator.

"Nnngh...what...what..."

"Off with the pants," he said, driven by the parasite on his own neck. "You want them off. Off before you make a mess."

"What...you mean..."

Already moving, Antoine pulled the doctor's pants button open. With the wolverine too conflicted between stopping him and stopping the parasite on the back of his neck, there was no fighting, no struggle, no resistance.

The doctor's cock was already rising up and pushing out of his sheath, one of the more animalistic shafts out there. He watched the pink rod rising, already dripping, and pushed the doctor over the side of his own exam table.

Help him, the parasite on the back of his neck said. Distract him.

Well, there was one distraction that Antoine had learned about while he was still a party guy. There were a lot of things that guys could think through, but one really couldn't think that clearly if they had a finger - or more - up their ass. A blowjob was hot, but add a finger in the back...

He licked his digit, one of his fingers getting nice and slimy before he jabbed it up the doctor's rear end. Dr. Patterson gasped, falling limp over his table, panting as the alligator jabbed his finger forward and back, forward and back.

The pink hole stretched out with his finger, clinging to it tightly, squeezing down as he pushed it in and out. Every time it went in, he felt the doctor gasp, seizing up, hissing, while when he pulled back, the doctor let out a soft moan, and the flesh of that pink ring pulled tighter, clinging to his finger and pulling out a bit with it.

Distract him, distract him, he thought, following his order to the best of his abilities. He knew that it wasn't quite the thing that should be done, that there was probably a better way, but he knew that this would work.

The doctor moaned under him, rising cock spitting pre against the floor as he kept cumming away. Everything was so sensitive now, just like it had been for Antoine when the parasite had been shoved onto the back of his neck. Hive needed everything to run smoothly, so all the different nerves of the body were turned up, made more sensitive than they normally would be.

It was a good secondary reward, but he preferred the real one. Being made a drone, being of service, was the best.

In and out he plunged his finger, and soon, the doctor was quiet, moaning into his exam table. The wolverine shivered as the alligator gently pulled his finger back, making sure to rub it against the prostate one more time.

"Stand up," he said, just as the panther had said it to him. "Stand up and take off your shirt," he added as he did the same.

Soon, the wolverine and the alligator were topless - and in the doctor's case, bottomless - in the exam room. They turned, going back to back as the neckhuggers extended their tails. It was time for the doctor to learn what his mission was.

The tingle of pleasure that came with the connection was as blissful as ever, and he moaned under his breath. It was more than just the supercharged blast of pleasure that ran down his spine, though. It was the approval that came with it, the reminder that he had done exactly what Hive needed him to do.

He was good.

He'd be good.

He was accepted.

Smiling, Antoine stood there with his eyes closed, savoring the empty feeling that came with being part of Hive, waiting for his own next assignment.

When the alligator left, there was still a bit of Thomas Patterson that wanted to push back against the parasite on the back of his neck, but that part was rapidly fading away. The pressure of that needle against his spine told the doctor everything that he needed to know. If there was ever any overt demonstration of resistance, the needle could push through the rest of the way, cutting off any ability for him to control anything below the base of his neck ever again. He'd be completely paralyzed, and the parasite would feel no guilt for doing it.

On the other hand, if he obeyed, he would be part of Hive, and he would be given all that the rest of the hosts did. All he had to do was complete the tasks that he was given, and do exactly as he was told.

The doctor wasn't sure that he was keen on that, but the parasite was still wiping out his resistance, so he was probably going to be reluctant for at least a few hours. On the other hand, he couldn't really say no, either. All he could do was do the task a little less joyfully.

Go to lunch, Hive commanded, and he had little choice in the matter.

The middle-aged wolverine left the exam room, the chart for the alligator completely unfilled. He hadn't had the chance to put anything on it, and now, he doubted that he would be allowed to.

He returned to the main room, dropping the chart off. The vixen, Ms. Valya, looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Another druggie?"

"Yep."

"We really should close the doors to them. They're not making it any easier for us. Or themselves."

"We need to treat them, sadly," he said, driven by the parasite rather than his own desires. "They're part of the city, too."

"Yeah, I guess. Still..."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours. I need a long lunch after that."

"Heh, and a shower?"

"That too."

"Sure. You head out, I'll hold down the fort. We've got the other docs coming in soon, anyway."

The other docs. Yes. There were three others that donated their time to the clinic, and they'd need to be implanted, too. Ms. Valya, too, now that he thought about it. All the staff would need to be implanted, if they were going to avoid any further detection.

He was already out of the clinic by the time that any regret started to show itself, and it was quickly stamped out as his arms and legs mechanically went through the process of starting his old Volkswagon Beetle. The little thing chugged to life, and then rumbled all the way home as he drove off.

On the way, he could feel his mind shifting, the parasite continuing its work as it wiggled its needs into his brain. Hive was slowly taking control, taking away his resistance, reminding him of how good it would be to be part of the collective. Long-held beliefs in capitalism and self-reliance and independence were gradually being eroded, taken away from him as the parasite replaced it all with the joy of drone-hood.

It would have sent a shiver down his spine if there had been enough of him left to actually be scared of the idea.

Thomas arrived at his house, a little place that was no bigger than a cottage at the center of the city. He opened the door and stepped inside, and immediately received the command to take off his jacket and his shirt. The wolverine did, pulling his arms free and shrugging it off.

Shower, he was told, and he could at least agree with that. At least then he could get the mucky feeling of the alligator off of him.

He fingered me. I can't believe he fingered me.

The gift of pleasure from Hive. You will accept that and more in the future, his parasite said.

The idea wasn't appealing, but he doubted that mattered to the thing on the back of his neck. All that mattered to that thing was getting what it wanted, and that it would do, regardless of his comfort or anyone else's.

He stepped under the water, feeling it rushing down over his shoulders and neck. Normally, he would have set to washing himself, but the parasite didn't let him. Instead, it turned him around, forcing him to put his neck under the water directly, making him shower it rather than himself.

The violated feeling under his tail still ached, but it was not as bad as it had been at the clinic. There was still a feeling of spit down there, dried up but still a bit slimy, but that was fading, too, though not as fast as he would have liked.

Thomas stared straight ahead, feeling his mind getting rearranged, the urges to do what Hive wanted replacing the diminishing urge to tell someone what had happened. The fear that he had felt when he was knocked down was almost entirely gone, replaced by a dull contentment with his new situation.

Not happiness, because that was too far, too soon, but definitely a sense of belonging. He had been part of enough unions to know that he didn't have to be happy with what he got; they would have his back, and that was enough. He'd just have to do what they said for now, and hope that the rewards were worth it.

Colonel Arthur Packard was returning to the base. He was completely controlled by the neckhugger, and he knew that Hive needed his services now more than ever.

It wasn't merely the fact that he was in command of the local Air Force base that held the plane that they needed. Nor was it the fact that they needed him there to keep the infested soldiers from being detected, running interference for them.

No, they needed him there as a means of collecting information.

As the commanding officer, the jackal saw everything that went in and out of the base. Sure, Jerome had access to the intelligence files that told them what the actual projects were at the base, what they did, what was planned, but Arthur was the man on the ground. He had clearance that none of the other soldiers had, could see every part of the base. In a way, he was a one-man mapping drone.

Once he had a chance to walk around, the rest of the drones would be able to drain everything that he saw out of the neckhugger on the back of his neck, and they'd be able to put together a plan based on that. The only reason that they hadn't done that already was because he'd never gone through the whole base with that much eye for detail. Now, he had to.

The jackal drove up to the tunnel that led down to the base, joining the queue of other vehicles that were waiting. Two Doberman soldiers stood at the entrance, questioning everyone that was going inside. He started to reach for his own ID in preparation, then stopped.

Hive.

It was a bit of information that had barely come to him, but he knew it for fact as soon as it arrived in his brain. They were infested, too, owned by Hive.

Jerome worked fast.

Hive appreciated the wolf, and as a result, so did he, far beyond the way that he appreciated the wolf as a friend. They were closer now than they had ever been. They were both drones in Hive's service.

The cars moved forward slowly, and he was as patient as he could be. The Dobermans were efficient, yes, but he could see them doing something else, too. Measuring, considering everyone that came up to them, and he smiled in understanding.

Eventually, he came to the head of the line, one car behind him. He stopped and rolled down his window.

"ID and clearance card, sir?" the soldier asked.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, a finger on the back of his neck pulling his shirt down just enough to show the parasite head that was covered up. He leaned back, the Doberman smiling slightly at him.

"Welcome home, sir."

"Looking for hosts?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"The car behind me?" He nodded. "I recognize it. One of the scientists that works on the navigation systems."

"Good call, sir."

"Thank you."

The Doberman waved him through, and Arthur drove on.

Reman watched as the car disappeared into the tunnel, waving the next one forward as soon as there was a sufficient gap. The neckhugger on the back of his neck twisted and seemed rather discontented, and no surprise. It was hot out today, and the dryness was probably not doing it any favors.

At least the one that he kept under his uniform up front was in better shape. It might have been a bit wet with sweat, but better that than drying out in the sun.

The window rolled down, revealing a wild-furred fox. He had the thickest pair of glasses that the Doberman had ever seen, and he was already gesturing around frantically, acting as if he was on at least five cups of espresso, and possibly something stronger.

"I gotta get in now, I'm late!"

"ID and clearance, sir."

"You always ask, and I always have it. You should know me by now!"

"Orders are orders, sir. ID?"

The fox grumbled, throwing a card out the window.

"And clearance?"

"The ID should be enough!"

"Can't let you through without clearance, sir."

"UGH!"

As the fox leaned down towards the glove compartment on the other side, Reman leaned in through the open window. He had done this a dozen times with many other cars, but all the other hosts had been less than desirable to Hive. They were either another grunt, another janitor, or something that they already had. And if they weren't, there were too many cars waiting in line to deal with the risk of being found out.

This guy, however, had managed to fit the criteria of being someone new, and there were no more cars in line. He could wait a bit to go in.

While the fox continued to curse and grumble under his breath, Reman took one hand off his gun and put it under his uniform. The rolled up neckhugger was waiting for him, and he pulled it free, holding it over the fox's unsuspecting neck.

One little hiss, and the spike was out. The fox stiffened, huffing, and the Doberman reached in with his other hand to pull the scientist's coat out of the way. No need to get it coated in cum-stains, after all.

"Welcome to Hive," he muttered.

"Nnngh...ah...ah..."

"You'll understand, soon."

Hive was spreading, and bit by bit, they would cover the world. It was only a matter of time.

The End