Fruiting Body - Oneshot


                                            >"FUCK! OW! GOD... DAMN..."

                                            >You start, looking around in panic for a moment before recognizing the voice, relieved.

                                            >It's just Anon, that paradoxical combination of underreaction and overreaction.

                                            >Trotting toward the stream of invectives, you begin looking for your wayward human friend.

                                            >Whenever he injures himself he'll cuss like nothing else on Equestria, but always refuses any serious medical attention, claiming "he's had worse".

                                            >Sometimes you can't imagine what could have qualified as worse, or how he can "walk off" some of his injuries.

                                            >One time, he caught one of his front legs on the edge of a nail sticking out of your doorframe and tore a two-hoof-long gash right in front of you.

                                            >You were understandably worried he wouldn't make it to the hospital, but he just calmed you down, walked over to your sink, rinsed it out, and tore a strip off his shirt to wrap it with.

                                            >Allegedly humans are made of pretty tough stuff compared Equestrians.

                                            >It makes sense though, he would have to be to survive.

                                            >Some of his stories about "Earth" still send chills down your back.

                                            >Poverty, starvation, unprovoked violence...

                                            >In some places, humans had to walk around with tools designed specifically to kill another human just to be safe from one another.

                                            >He always refused to elaborate on any of those tools, claiming he didn't want to introduce "trench warfare" to Equestria.

                                            >Even when you pressed him, he wouldn't say a word about that "trench warfare" either.

                                            >It bothers you, not knowing something, but he said it's for the best and Twilight Sparkle trusts her friends.

                                            >As you round the corner, you call out to him in a gentle voice.

                                            "Anon, what happened this time?"

                                            >You freeze as his body comes into sight.

                                            >He's lying on the ground muttering, but what holds your sight is the stream of rich, red blood flowing down his face.

                                            >Oh no.

                                            >no no no no no

                                            "ANON!"

                                            >"Don't shout in my ear, I'm fine."

                                            "YOU ARE NOT FINE! YOU'RE DYING!"

                                            >"Who's the local human expert again? Oh right, me. I diagnose the human with a small cut."

                                            "That's not a small cut!"

                                            >"Head injuries bleed a lot and make it look worse. Trust me, I'm fine."

                                            "Anon we're going to go see Redheart RIGHT NOW!"

                                            >"Fuck OFF Twiggles."

                                            >You light your horn and begin casting a simple medical scanning spell.

                                            >"Twilight, don't do a stupid!"

                                            >You don't hear him.

                                            >You're gagging as you see for the first time what truly lies within your friend.

                                            >A parasite has set root in him.

                                            >The huge, wrinkled blob of fat sits nestled in a spiderweb, right where every living being's soul should be.

                                            >You can't find Anon's soul.

                                            >It ate Anon.

                                            >As your horn brightens and you firm up your grip, the thing inside the body of your friend starts screaming in agony.

                                            >You teleport it out.

                                            >Instantly Anon's body goes limp, but it doesn't matter... it hasn't been Anon for a while, has it?

                                            >With the thing held in your telekinetic grasp, now visible to your eye, you can observe just how insidious it really is.

                                            >Tendrils have spread out to follow every single mana channel in his body, splitting and splitting to consume even the slightest wisp until they were smaller than you could see.

                                            >Your vision compelled to trace them backward, you see the worm-like strands collect into thicker and thicker bundles, ropy strings of flesh carrying stolen mana back to their source.

                                            >The body of the parasite.

                                            >It's more disgusting than anything even a deranged soul like Chrysalis could imagine.

                                            >Shriveled, like one of the deflated balloons always left in the aftermath of a Pinkie Party.

                                            >Anon will never be able to attend another Pinkie Party.

                                            >Because this thing ate him.

                                            >How long had this been sitting inside him, eating him from the inside out?

                                            >Had his speech been stolen first?

                                            >Every time he injured himself, was it a call for help, hoping a scan would reveal this thing stealing Anon from you?

                                            >No wonder the parasite had talked up "Anon's" resistance to injury, no wonder "Anon" had such a large pain tolerance.

                                            >Anon's pain meant nothing to this thing.

                                            >Another thought strikes you.

                                            >The wretch floating in front of you looks near fully grown.

                                            >Of course it does, it gorged itself on Anon's essence until there was nothing left.

                                            >And once a parasite reaches adulthood, it reproduces.

                                            >You imagine the parasite swelling up to its full size with children, bursting out of Anon's head as you rear up to hug him.

                                            >You imagine a parasite squirming up your nose, as you desperately try to tear it out.

                                            >You imagine the parasite supping on your mana, as it slowly grows inside you and you slowly grow dimmer.

                                            >You imagine walking up to Princess Celestia, and beckoning her closer before your parasite explodes out of your hollow body, infecting the Princess.

                                            >You vomit.

                                            >With a twist of your mana the abomination hovering in front of you is incinerated, and the ash transmuted to water vapor.

                                            >Leaving Anon's long-dead body behind, you gallop toward the train station.

                                            >The Princess will know what to do.

                                            >She has to.