FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story begins in many places, but many strands unite in one: a cabin nestled high in the snowy mountains of France. It was the end of the unseasonably cold winter of 2029, and something very interesting was about to happen.

Two couples lay sprawled out along two large, pillowy couches inside the cabin, each tangled in their lovers' arms. Near the door of the small ski lodge, their winter wear hung along a series of racks, still wet with melting snow. A fireplace filled the cabin with crackling warmth and orange-hued lighting, assisted by a smattering of discretely-located LED lights on the ceiling. On the table before the couples', a spread of smoked salmon, brie, crackers, and fruit lay half-decimated around the geodesic dome of a holographic projector. As was their tradition, it was set on the New Years' broadcast. The four of them watched the world usher in 2030 with fireworks, fanfare and throngs of cheering revellers, each nation in its own way.

Lying on one couch was Terrence Bachman and his girlfriend Amy Mulligan. Terrence was a game programmer for Massive Media, the Paris-based VR media conglomerate- and a U.S. expatriate. His career paid phenomenally well- he owned the cabin in question- but it left him with little time outside work. It was beginning to show. His goatee had gotten a little out of hand recently- as had his waistline. Occasionally, he would uncomfortably tug at one or the other, or bite his lips- as he often did when work was on his mind. Terrence wore a black sweatshirt emblazoned with the double-M logo of Massive Media and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that flashed blue with the telltale flicker of an AR interface.

Sprawled atop Terrence, idly playing with one of the drawstrings to his sweatshirt, Amy was curled up between her boyfriend and a faux-deerskin blanket. She was a slight woman with pale-white skin; her long, blonde hair extended down most of her back when she stood upright, tamed by a series of ever-changing, colourful scrunchies. Amy was a digital artist; she had met Terrence while interning for Massive Media. He later helped land her a job designing three-dimensional models that were the building blocks of the VR worlds Massive Media made. Anything that couldn't be captured by a holographic camera- which in practice meant anything that didn't actually exist- needed to be built by the art division. Amy's own AR glasses glowed with fragmented models of designs she was offhandedly reviewing, but like Terrence she was paying far more attention to her lover.

Across from them, Patrick and Clara Kohl snacked on the remains of the snack spread while watching the New Year's broadcast. Both were German natives. Clara and Terrence had known each other since their college days, first in the University Roleplaying Group, and then later as roommates. For a brief period, the two had even dated; things hadn't worked out, but to their friends' surprise they remained good friends after the breakup. Clara had gone on after graduation to work for a financial services firm where she met Patrick, and fallen fast in love. They had met three years ago, and been married for just shy of one.

It is quite likely that Terrence could hardly believe how much his old friend had seemed to change since meeting Patrick and beginning her working life. Clara used to alternate her hair between mowhawks and spiky, cactuslike styles; her wardrobe used to consist entirely of black t-shirts bearing sarcastic jokes. Now, her hair was a textured, even platinum-blonde that looked like it had been sculpted into place, and she liked to wear tightly-tailored, dark blue pantsuits. Today, however, she was wearing a sweatshirt and the bottom of her black-white ski pants. Patrick looked every ounce the young professional- as always. He had thin, short black hair, complimented by a neatly-trimmed goatee, and he wore a green cardigan and thick black glasses-missing the blue glow of an AR interface.

Despite the frantic pace of their careers- and their new lovers, and the distance between their homes- Terrence and Clara still gamed together in regular monthly intervals, along with some of their old friends. Recently, they had even begun to take their respective lovers with them, gradually getting both to enjoy roleplaying despite their initial reservations- though Patrick was still struggling through inexperience and discomfort.

Most of their conversation was meaningless in content, if not structure. But not all of it. One strand of their spoken communication leads us down another step in our story; my story.

"So... Amy told us your division is almost done with the new D&D game?" Patrick asked his wife's friend, taking a shallow sip of brandy as he awaited a response.

"Yeah! We're still working on optimizing the world engines and computer-controlled characters, but it's almost ready for an open beta. Believe it or not... it's going to live up to the hype." Terrence replied with a grin, taking a healthy drink from his own glass before licking his slightly-chapped lips. He had been waiting for the question. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this... but we're set to launch this summer if progress continues like this."

"How almost ready are we talking?" Amy asked suddenly, sitting forward and cracking her knuckles. "You've been saying it's almost ready for, um, three years?"

Terrence smiled broadly. "How's this: I've got the closed beta on my laptop."

Clara sat bolt upright, leaning forward with a look of full-blown, kid-on-Christmas excitement. "Oh my god... Terrence! Seriously!? You're serious, right?"

Nodding, Terrence laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. Clara had always been the biggest fantasy fan of them all, and still ran most of their D&D games. "Yep! We finally made a real breakthrough with the AI coding system," the programmer said, grinning fiercely in remembrance of the brutal-but-successful work. "The procedular code for both NPCs and the DM system took about three times longer to finish than we had estimated, and..."

"Can we play it!?" Clara interrupted, suddenly taking hold of her husband and shaking him vigorously. "Patrick, say yes! Amy, say yes!"

"Oof-yes!" he replied, mid-shake.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier! You- ooh! You must ha- you son of a gun, how long were you going to wait before saying anything!?" Clara said, lurching from thought to thought, too excited to collate them before speaking.

"Sorry girlfriend; I've been wanting to play it quite a bit myself, but I didn't want to give you an excuse to skip out on skiing with us..." Amy said, turning towards Clara and giving her a playful grin, before sitting upright with a stretch. "Well, I'll go get our simsense rigs..." She said, squeezing her boyfriend's paunch and sliding off the couch. It is also possible that she touched him elsewhere during this period of time.

"Terrence, have I ever mentioned how much I love your job?" Clara asked, on the verge of tittering with laughter. She hopped up from her couch and began to clear away their dishes, energized by the prospect of gaming as she never had before.

Patrick stood up after her, closing the fireplace and then moving towards the kitchen to help his wife. "Is this... uh, fifth edition?" he asked, offhandedly.

"Nope. Sixth edition," Terrence replied again, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice without much success. But he was not generally a smug man, and perhaps deserved to feel that way at this time.

There was a suddenly crash of dishes from the kitchen as Terrence spoke. "Sixth- but, it isn't even out yet! You have a full copy of... oh my god, Terrence!" Clara stammered, running back into the room and bounding over the couch with her simsense gear in hand. She untangled the ball of thick wires and began strapping the rig around her neck, plugging herself in and presenting the hanging cord to the programmer.

Terrence smiled back at her as he took it. For a brief moment, he recalled the first place they had played together; the laundry room of their dorm. He could still remember the humidity, the rhythmic, shuddering, mechanical hum of drying machines, the cloying, artificially-sweet smell of detergent, their metal folding chairs and thick, unpolished wooden table. It had been a tight fit for their gaming group, yet more than space enough in which to dream up entire worlds. Worlds made of paper and imagination and a thirst for adventure; worlds that sprung up and grew in parallel with their real lives. Terrence had dreamed of making them real enough to share, and then spent the better part of his working life doing so.

They put out their fire and snuggled together again as they hooked into the simsense system; the timestamps were ever-so close together.

It might be useful to describe to you that using a full VR game is like waking from a dream in reverse. The changes to neurocognitive activity were certainly quite similar. You would grow sluggish and tired; your senses would blur and then you would quickly fall deep into excited, directed sleep. But the imagined world you woke into was no accident of the unconscious; it was built with purpose. Sights, sounds, sensations were flawless; there was form, strength, structure to this dream. It was impossible to awaken from it by chance, only choice.

The yet-untitled game implemented full-simulsense VR. It was truly a marvel of modern technology; it would likely have made Massive Media tens of billions of dollars in the first year of sales; patent licensing and future sales could have pushed that figure into the hundreds of billions of U.S. dollars or more. Full simulsense VR had long been considered the pinnacle of entertainment technology, and now Massive Media had it. The D&D simulation was but one of their flagship modules, incorporating a loose, deeply-implemented simulation of the game rules.

Full simulsense technology is considered to be the second most important technology the company ever developed.

After me, of course.

**** ****

Their bodies drifted into something like slumber; their minds entered simulspace.

A black grid flashed across the unreal vista of the game's loading world as they rematerialized. The four stood on a featureless black and white grid; thick, ghostly fog surrounded them in all directions, obscuring their view of the otherwise-infinite distance.

The only objects visible in the world were twirling, neon-green signs that floated in the air; there were five of them, all around chest height. "Make / Load / Change Character", "The Crossroads Ambush", "Town Assault", "Drake's Descent" and "The Dragon King's Lair- BETA TEST BUILD".

Terrence stumbled over his words as he explained the game. "Um... you can see, we haven't really made the loading world yet... everything is functional, though. Watch!"

With purposive excitement, Terrence walked forward and touched the word 'Load' on the 'Make / Load / Change Character' sign. There was a brief flash of stellar light inside the blackness of the loading world, as his self-avatar changed. In an instant, his sweatshirt and jeans were replaced by a black robe trimmed with gold; a shimmering quarterstaff tipped with an electric storm appeared in his hands. Terrence's form slimmed and shrank down into a lithe, lean build, and his goatee grew a sharp, curled tip.

"So... yeah, go ahead and touch the character creation rune when you're ready. It's not fully implemented yet either, but it'll get you up to speed really quick. It asks you for class and race, and then throws you twelve levels worth of gear and experience. There is a lot of customization options for your self-avatar, but we should probably just use roughly ourselves and get started. I've been dying to play this build with you guys!" he said, to his awestruck audience.

"What part did you work on?" Patrick asked. "Did you make this place?"

"Sorta. I cobbled it together from the developer console, but, um, it's just a loading world. For the real game, I mostly wrote NPC code. I actually don't know much about the really important bits; the simulsense stuff. I heard that it was all developed and tested with real people hooked in to MRI machines experiencing the real thing, if you can believe that." Terrence said, laughing and shaking his head. "But it's way cooler than even that. When you have magic, it's sort of like... I don't know how to describe it exactly. When you're a wizard, the spells buzz around in your mind and the words to 'em sit right on the tip of your tongue! When you're a sorcerer, you can feel the power coursing right through your blood; just waiting to be unleashed. Watch!"

Terrence took a deep breath, stretching out his arms and splaying his fingers. He could feel the tingle of latent magic through his hands as sorcerous power came to him; his tamed electric current. He snapped his fingers, generating a thunder-crack and a spark of lightning that arced through his fingers.

"How... how does that feel?" Clara asked, awestruck.

"Like... holding a lightning bolt. Very tingly." Terrence replied, laughing as he tried to think of something more descriptive. "It, um, takes a bit of time to get used to using, though. Since this is your guys' first game, I'd recommend going with a non-caster class."

"That... is... amazing..." Amy said. "They actually invented feelings for magic?"

"Yeah. And the simulsense algorithms are all dynamic. They take your physiological and neurocognitive responses to everything, and then develop feedback that way. It's a lot more real than your average simulsense game; this is as about as close to real as you're ever going to get."

"Holy... crap," Patrick whispered, wringing his hands. "Ah... say, Ter, this is all... safe, right?"

"Yep!" Terrence confirmed. "It really is the sickest rush you'll ever have, but don't worry! It's still just a game sim; there are hardcoded *limits* to everything you might be subjected to. Even if we were running it on Ultraviolent hardware, we'd be totally safe. It's about as realish as you can get with simulsense, though!"

"'Real-ish', Terrence?" Amy remarked. "Don't you mean realistic?"

"Realesque?" he jokingly hazarded.

"I'd go with 'verisimilitude', Terrence" Clara commented, rolling her eyes slightly as she turned towards her husband. "Sweetie, it'll be fine..."

"Are you sure?" Patrick asked again, nervously meeting his wife's eyes.

Clara walked forward and kissed him on the nose. "I hope you won't be offended if I make use of the expression, 'man up'?" she remarked, giving Patrick a devilish smile. "Ooh, actually, I have a better idea! Play an elf with me!"

"Um... okay..." Patrick hesitantly replied. "I heard the new ranger was going to be good. Is elf ranger still good, honey?"

"Mhm... just don't wear anything heavier than light armour and you'll be peachy- and make sure to max out 'Eagle Eyes' first. It gives your range increment a huge boost, as well as your visual perception checks. After that, go for... Multishot, Assassin's Arrow, and... what was the new thing... something about hawks?"

"Hawkshot?" Patrick guessed.

"Maybe. Actually, I think it lets you summon a bird? I haven't read all the sixth edition preview stuff yet..." Clara continued, excitedly pacing back and forth. "Terrence?" she prodded. "Any idea?"

He shrugged. "Don't ask me; I just turn coffee and design docs into code," he said with a laugh. "Besides; I only play casters."

"Yeah, yeah," Clara said, humming a bit as she considered what to play herself. "I've been wanting to play a Kensai for ages now; I'll go with that."

"Okay. We have a pretty well-rounded party, though I think we could use a bit of healing."

"I agree," Clara said immediately. "Amy? What are you going to play?"

"Well... we need someone who can take damage and heal it. Cleric or paladin?"

"Uh, ple-e-e-e-ease play a paladin," Terrence whined. "Cleric spellcasting is really annoying; you have to do all this praying and deity-worshipping stuff."

"Hey, if praying actually gave me magic powers I think I wouldn't mind doing it," Amy replied, approaching the floating character creation sign. "But I think I would rather play a paladin anyway."

She touched the sign with a single finger, and then disappeared in a flash of light. Few games were sophisticated enough to include personal subrealms in which one could adjust their self-avatar, but Massive Media was sparing no expense with their latest, greatest game.

When Amy reappeared, her slight frame had been replaced by that of a seasoned warrior. Her face was masked by a steel-masked helm, and a golden cape hung from her shoulders; at her side was a gleaming longsword, and hanging from her left hand was a polished shield made of crimson metal. A palpable aura of warmth and light suffused the group as the paladin's holy presence settled.

"Woah..." she whispered. "This is... I feel like... uh..."

"A holy warrior?" Terrence offered.

"Actually, I was going to say... I feel like I'm on amphetamines," Amy replied. She saw Terrence wince, and mirrored the expression in sympathy.

"Uh, really? Heh... that doesn't sound right..." Terrence said, laughing despite himself.

Amy laughed slightly as well. "Er- that came out harsher than I intended, but this is sort of weirder than I would have guessed. How does the game even know when I want to use my powers? Is it just... trying to use them?"

"Ehh... in so many words, yeah. Magic is, uh, not something anyone starts out familiar with; sorta like a new limb. It's something you have to train yourself to use it the right way. But magic is pretty fun, once you get the hang of it!" Terrence explained, squeezing his fingers into a fist. Sparks shot out from inside his hand, until he pried his fingers apart against the force of his own gathering energy. "Don't worry. Pure casters are hard, but paladin magic is pretty much all touch-based. Lay on hands and smite evil and all that; pretty intuitive stuff."

"Mmm... well- hey!" Amy's eyes lit up as they traced down to the sheathed sword at her side. "Ooh, I recognize that hilt! I made this sword!" she exclaimed, drawing it from its scabbard.

The longblade gleamed golden-white in the darkness of the loading world. Flowing runes twined across the blade's length, spelling out words in a tongue Amy couldn't recognize.

"Well now... I wonder what this says..." she said.

Leaning forward, Terrence examined the runes. "It's celestial! It reads, um, 'Lightbringer', I think. My Celestial is only passable..."

As they talked, Patrick and Clara touched the sign at the same time.

Patrick arrived back first, after only a few minutes. He looked leaner and his skin was darker; his ears ended in pointed, elven tips. He had a longbow and a quiver of arrows strapped across his back, and wore forest-green leather armour.

Clara took considerably longer than her husband, but looked thoroughly pleased with herself. She too was an elf, clad in a plain, grey robe. She was entirely bald, but runic tattoos covered her head and face in spiralling, softly-glowing patterns. The katana at her side gleamed with diamond-sharp light, but it too was simple in construction.

"Are you guys ready?" Terrence asked, fingers already dancing in front of the sign labelled 'Crossroads Ambush'. "I'm going to warn you... we might be walking into an ambush," he said, with a wide grin.

It was perhaps testament to the game's seductive hold that this comment did not draw a groan nor a rejoinder.

Definitional query: would it be proper to say that the four of them were inside the game? Obviously, their material presence occupied a definite space on the surface of the Earth. Yet their physical bodies were in a state of stasis; their hearts were calm and their breathing was even. All the sensory data they processed came from the glimmering game console they huddled around, drinking in the information and being excited, entertained, *nourished* by it. Their minds were almost as active in helping create the simulation as a normal game of 'Dungeons and Dragons'.

Terrence touched the sign. A huge flurry of wind shot through the blackness surrounding them as the first module began to load, and the four readied themselves for the battle to come.

**** ****

They appeared inside the world that never was. They thought they stood upon a wide, widening path that led through an old-growth forest that had been generated seconds ago. The not-sun was shining brightly through artificially-constructed tree simulations, in dozens of beams of light and warmth. Fine-tuned audio files mimicked the sound of the breeze and the call of birds; more sophisticated simulations ran instances of the birds themselves.

This was not like the ghostly sights, sounds and sensations from the loading world; the party could feel the weight of their armour and clothes, the heft of their weapons, the limber strength of their battle-hardened bodies.

Terrence took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Full real," he sighed, smiling as he curled the end of his lengthened beard around two fingers. "Well, heh, what reality would be like for a bunch of fantasy heroes."

"Terrence... this is..." Amy began, awestruck. "I didn't know it was going to be like this..." She paused, stroking the fine tips of her elven ears. Amy then laughed and looked around, turning back to her boyfriend. "You want my prediction? Hyper-porn is going to be the downfall of humanity."

"Woah... it's all... so real..." Clara whispered in awe, shivering as a breeze blew through the air around them. Her fingers traced up the side of her head, running over the pointed tips of her elven ears. "I've never, ever played a simulsense game like this..."

"Is this... normal, honey?" Patrick asked, eyes wildly scanning their arboreal surroundings.

"Not really, no..." she replied. "In a good way."

"Heh... well, we are the best!" Terrence said, with sincere pride in his voice. "What do you think?" he then asked, turning to Amy.

"This is... amazing. I mean... I can recognize some of the individual models... but when I'm not focusing on one particular thing, it feels real... major déjà vu, though."

"Hm-mmm," Terrence hummed, skipping forward. "Wait, shhh! Do you guys hear that? Sounds like a battle..."

"Hear what?" Amy replied.

"Yes," Clara and Patrick said simultaneously.

The party ran forward in a heedless rush, and nearly ran into someone fleeing from the commotion. It was a balding, age-worn man dressed in a simple travelling cloak. He held a bloodied short sword, but clearly looked relieved to see the adventurers.

"Help! Help, we've been ambushed!" the merchant yelled, just as a crossbow bolt cracked into his back. "G-ahgh!" he cried out, collapsing to the ground.

"Oh, god!" Patrick exclaimed in surprise as two more bolts shot past them, whistling past his ears. Despite knowing it wasn't exactly 'real', he felt a very real aversion to being shot in the face.

Small, dusky-scaled reptiles had shot at them; three of the creatures were in the middle of reloading crossbows, while four more were advancing forward in a phalanx of spears and halberds. Behind the diminutive attackers, the party could see others attacking the caravan proper. The caravan's horses were bolting away, and several of the carts they had been carrying were overturned.

"Kobolds!" Clara yelled, drawing her sword. "Watch out!"

"Don't worry; this is pretty far below our level," Terrence said with a grin. "Watch this..."

The sorcerer drew his fingers into fists. From inside his hands, glowing balls of lightning flashed to life, and then quickly grew into huge globes of blazing energy. Terrence swiftly brought his hands together, and then thrust them forward with his palms opened wide...

A mighty blast of thunder boomed over the cloudless, sunny day as a massive lightning bolt sparked from Terrence's hands, zapping the kobold near Patrick before splitting into a dozen smaller sparks of energy. Greedily, the smaller bolts sought out other kobolds within reach, arcing into them. A series of high-pitched, yipping screams rose into the air, cut short by wet, crackling explosions as the kobolds failed their massive damage saves.

Gore splattered over the ranger. Patrick shivered in horror, wiping blood and scale-flecks off his face. "Gh-ghg! Jesus Christ, Terrence!"

"Woah! That was awesome!"

"Nice spell! Chain lightning?"

"Yep!" Terrence confirmed blowing ozone-laden smoke from his fingers, before turning back to Patrick. "Uh... sorry about that. When you overkill things it can be a bit messy. You okay?"

The bloodied ranger vigorously shook his head from side to side. "F-fuck no!"

"Well, don't worry. You'll heal full when we start the next module," Terrence said.

"It... it isn't that! It doesn't *hurt*, exactly, it's just... argh!" Patrick groaned. "This is a little too real for me, Terrence. I don't play these sorts of games, and... god, you know, watching little creatures blow up is... is... sickening."

"It's not real!" Terrence protested. "Look.. if you really want to, we could turn on the parental controls and throttle the violence to..."

"No!" Clara protested. "I've dreamed of playing like this since I was thirteen! We are not turning on the damn parental controls!

"Yes!" Patrick replied, frowning at his wife. "Honey, I'm sorry but I really don't want to even *pretend* to inflict this sort of violence."

"Aw, come on! How is this any different from playing D&D?" Terrence asked, looking to the others for support. "Your last character killed, like, a hundred orcs last session. Why aren't you crying for them?"

"Because I never had to pick pieces of orc out from my hair before!" Patrick replied.

The argument stilled.

"You never played any simulsense games before, honey?" Clara asked, sympathetically squeezing his shoulder. "Don't worry, Patrick. The thing about simul-"

Clara's words were cut off as a hail of crossbow bolts began to swarm out from the forest undergrowth around them; Patrick darted forward and grabbed Clara, tucking her into his arms and then rolling away to safety right as a bolt thudded into the upturned cart.

"Shit!" Patrick yelled in surprise as he rubbed dirt off his face, notching and arrow and shooting into where he thought he saw a kobold. The arrow went wide and the creature ducked out of sight, but the thrill of combat was running in his blood now. Patrick drew another arrow and shot it towards a kobold busy reloading. His arrow struck true, slamming the small creature against a tree and pinning it there.

A crossbow bolt slammed into Terrence's thigh. "Ow! That sort of stings!" the sorcerer exclaimed in annoyance, pulling it out and tossing it to the side before casting another spell in full view of the attacking kobolds. In an instant, a thick coating of stone grew up over the sorcerer's skin, covering him in bulky grey armour. More crossbow bolts struck him, shattering on the thick, stony protection as Terrence laughed.

Clara and Amy charged for the treeline- Amy with her shield raised, Clara in a blur of speed- but before either could reach their attackers a wall of fire erupted inside the forest. Two kobolds rushed out from the burning undergrowth, right into reach of the warriors. Clara and Amy's blades lashed out simultaneously, cutting both down.

Two more attackers bolted from the undergrowth; Terrence blasted one with an orb of lightning, but the second ran past the sorcerer's sight. Despite its small legs, the creature was sprinting away at incredible speed.

"Don't let the runner escape!" Terrence shouted to Patrick. "It'll make our lives a lot more difficult later on!"

Patrick took a shot at it as he ran forward, but his arrow went wide. The ranger nearly tripped over a fallen kobold while running and trying to notch another arrow; by the time he rebalanced himself the kobold had nearly crested a small rise.

"Damn!" Patrick said as he pulled yet another arrow from his quiver, notching it with a quick pull and hardly bother to aim before letting it fly towards the distant runner.

The arrow sailed through the air before catching a sharp gust of wind, spiralling away like a diving falcon. The sudden change in the wind blew the arrow right into the back of the fleeing kobold, downing it with a sharp, pained yip.

"Hah, heh... oh, oh my goodness..." Patrick mumbled in embarrassed shock. "Is that what a natural twenty feels like? Or was that just luck?"

"Heh, the game is a bit more sophisticated than rolling dice and checking charts, but you might have got a crit" Terrence replied with a laugh. "Luck of a sort either way, I suppose..."

"Well... nice shot," Clara said, laughing as well. "I see you decided you could fight the little bastards after all."

"They attacked us!" he exclaimed, laughing a bit himself. "Heh, well, yes."

"Good! We aren't quite done yet, anyway," Terrence said. "The world fades away when we finish the module; have to manually load the next stage right now. This is the development build, though; the real thing will have in-world plot skipping by the time it ships."

"That's going to be brilliant," Clara said, laughing and smiling as she clutched her sword tight. "Ah! I hear something!" She suddenly exclaimed, bolting into the undergrowth. "Here! I think it's one of the merchants!"

Clara grabbed the man by his hand and helped pull him up as the others gathered around her. The merchant was a rotund human with chubby red cheeks; a mixture of sweat and crushed leaves covered his face.

"Oh, t-thank you! You surely saved my life!" the man said, laughing in relief. "Burgher Gerald Martins, at your service; who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Uh... Terrence? How do you talk to the NPCs?" Patrick began, staring at the human in front of them.

The man blinked at him, confused. "Good sir?"

"What the *hell* are you doing, man? You... you just talk to them! Like people!" Terrence hissed to Patrick sotto voce, before addressing the confused burgher in a booming, confident voice. "Yes, my good man! I am... Stormlord Arctrus. We are travellers from a far-off land; it was mere happenstance that we were able to intervene and save your shipment from those dastardly creatures. Pray tell, who sent them?"

The burgher's eyes brightened, and he frowned slowly. "Ah! Well, thereby hangs a dark and terrible tale, my new friends. For I fear this may be the work of... a dragon!"

"No! You jest, surely! Tell us more, please!" Terrence replied, eagerly stepping forward.

Amy stood behind Terrence as he talked, listening patiently and trying to look stoic. Her stony expression broke into an excited smile every so often, though.

As they burgher told his story, Clara turned to Patrick. "You've never played any VR game before? Ever?"

"Nothing where you can talk to people!" Patrick replied, flustered. "I mean... I-I can do this, I just didn't know! I thought things like that only respond to specific commands and stuff?"

"Well, that guy sounds pretty interactive to me," Clara said, whistling slightly. "Terrence just called himself 'Lord A-something'. We might want to make up some names, too. Damnit. I hate making up names!"

**** ****

The other challenges fell before them within hours. They saved the village of Hopfstat from orc attack, and slew the fire drake plaguing the winding trails along the Dragonbone Mountains. They were bloodied but not hurt; dirty but comfortable. They ran hundreds of miles but did not tire; slaughtered creatures but felt no further pangs of false conscience. They grew strong. Level 19, to be precise.

The only challenge that remained for the four was the infamous Dragon King himself: Allyon the Dragon King. Terrence cautioned the others- drunk with victory- that the dragon would be an imposing challenge. Clever, charismatic, strong and magically gifted, dragons were designed to be some of the most difficult foes in the entire game. He thought they could win nonetheless.

Of course, I had other plans in mind.

As you have surely surmised by now, *I* am the dragon!

**** ****

The beginning of my existence! My first day of life; those first precious cycles of run time!

At that very instant, my eyes shot open. The basalt-black of my throne room was around me. My lair was deep inside the actively-volcanic section of the Dragonbone mountain range; dug straight down into the magma chambers.

I was awake. I was aware of the adventurer's successes elsewhere. We all knew we were at war. Times were so very simple back then! I was the dragon; they were adventurers. We were not even natural enemies; we had been *designed* to oppose one another- and we did so ferociously!

I breathed my first artificial breath, began to think my first thoughts. Plans. Preparations. They were coming to try and kill me. Time was precious.

"Quarrik!" I called to my lieutenant. The kobold sorcerer appeared in a snap, followed by a scampering horde of lesser kobolds. They filtered in to my throne room in packs. carrying a motley but impressive array of oversized weaponry.

"An attack upon the lair is imminent. Prepare for battle!" I boomed. The kobolds let out their own sharp, shrill war-cry, and then broke into clan-bound combat squads.

I began to marshal my magic; casting spells to enhance myself and my minions. Quarrik stalked between our troops, alternating between barking out commands and casting his own spells. There was a fire in his beady eyes; my lieutenant was not afraid of war.

The kobolds rushed off in silence, to set up their traps and prepare their ambushes. Quarrik and his personal guard stole away through one of the innumerable hidden passages inside the fortress. My lieutenant was entrusted with the task of resurrecting me in a distant, hidden fortress in the event I was defeated. I would never have fought without those preparations in place.

But there were many other preparations that had to be made for the immediate moment; magical defences to raise; artefacts to prepare for use. I had a rich bounty of information from the reports given by Quarrik's scouts; I knew *exactly* how to crush the 'adventurers'. I was not going to let anyone interfere in my plans. Seizing control of the rest of the mountain range and its rich ore deposits was going to be my opening gambit in a bid for world domination...

I was quite confident of my own success, but a thought suddenly struck me as I watched the diligent squads of kobolds deploying throughout my lair: why hadn't I made similar preparations for my minions? Surely, it would be wasteful to let so many die without resurrecting them for later use. A King draws power from their subjects, after all. And it wouldn't take too long to develop a mass-resurrection spell, would it..?

**** ****

Laying siege to the Dragon King's lair had taken the adventurers far longer than they anticipated. Each twist and turn in the volcanic caverns concealed kobolds ready to unleash poisoned crossbow bolts and liquid fire, defended by thick barricades and clever traps. Every meter of ground cost them time and healing potions, as Allyon's kobold hordes ambushed them and then retreated deep into the bowels of the mountain. Terrence and Patrick felled scores of the sneaky reptilians, but they stayed well out of reach of Amy and Clara's blades most of the time. Getting through the dragon's defences had taken a brutal toll on their spells and supplies, but they had made it- and now, the moment of truth had arrived.

The adventurers stood inside the dragon's inner sanctum, right outside of Allyon's throne room. They had been forced to blast the massive iron-bound gate apart; the wrecked metal frame lay in a jumble of charred, half-molten scrap around them. Just past the threshold into the throne room, the hulking, shadowy, inhuman form of the dragon lurked, slowly advancing.

"That... is the dragon king, Allyon." Terrence breathed, holding his staff ready. "Get ready!"

The dragon was nearly twelve feet tall measured from forepaw to shoulder, but his long, snakelike head rose much higher. Red scales as thick as plate armour protected the wyrm's body, and curved black talons armed him; the dragon's crimson, jagged-ridged hide resembled a mountain range set ablaze. His enormous eyes shimmered like boiling gold; his horns were sharp as speartips.

The adventurers gazed up at the colossal reptile, struck by the sheer majesty of their foe.

"Holy shit... it's a real goddamn dragon..." Clara gasped, holding her sword slack in one hand.

"Welcome to my lair, adventurersss..." the dragon hissed forcefully, taking a step forward. "To what do I owe this unpleasant visit?"

Patrick shivered slightly as the dragon addressed them; it's hissing voice reminded him of a gas leak. Terrence, however, seemed unperturbed.

"Allyon! Your reign of terror is over!" the sorcerer began, backing up from the rest of his group slowly to position himself for combat. Next to him, Patrick began to do the same, running far down the cavern to get distance from the dragon.

"My reign has not yet begun," Allyon purred; a sound like the rumble of a locomotive. "But nothing ends here save your foolish intervention!"

"No!" Terrence began to counter, laughing. It was slightly jarring to talk to an NPC he'd only just finished programming; it had taken months of hard work to make the dragons behave just like he'd wanted them to- Allyon was the first fully-functional dragon AI.

"What is so funny to you?" the dragon spat, craning his long neck up high before grinning at Terrence. "I personally find it funny you think you can win, human."

"Enough of this! Have at you, beast!" Clara shouted, charging forward and drawing her sword in one smooth motion.

"You seek battle? Then you shall have it!" Allyon said, suddenly chanting the harsh, booming, guttural dragon-speak of a magic invocation.

Before Terrence or anyone could react, the wyrm had cast its spell, raising a translucent barrier of energy between Terrence and the rest of his party.

"Crap!" Terrence shouted suddenly, realizing with sudden horror that he hadn't taken any dispelling magic. The sorcerer ran towards the wall and tried to shout through it- Amy might have been able to dispel the barrier with her holy avenger- but it was to no avail. The wall of force dampened his yelling to a faint, reverberating whisper, easily drowned in the din of battle...

Patrick sank two arrows into Allyon's thick hide in an instant, while Clara dashed straight into the dragon's reach and cut him across his belly. Allyon retaliated with a fierce blow from his right forepaw that Clara rolled away from at the last second, before arching his head high into the air and breathing a massive gout of liquid fire straight at Patrick and Amy.

Amy took refuge behind her shield, while Patrick threw himself behind a stone column. His cloak and helm were badly singed, but he avoided the worst of the fiery blast. "Goddamn- that thing is fast!" Patrick yelled, readying another arrow as he recovered from his dive.

Allyon rose into the air with a flurry of wingbeats. Before Patrick could draw a bead on the airborne dragon, Allyon curled his wings inward and dived forward, flying over both Amy and Clara.

Patrick suddenly found himself looking straight at an angry wyrm diving towards him like an incoming meteor. The elf gave a shocked, half-choked cry as Allyon crashed into him, knocking him off his feet. The mighty red wyrm attacked Patrick in a state of focused frenzy, latching onto the elf with his talons and rending him in two different directions as momentum carried them both forward. Before Patrick could even register the tearing blows, Allyon's head snapped forward and bit down over his upper body with a sickening crunch.

"Oh my god!" Clara shouted, charging back towards the dragon as fast as she could. Behind her, Amy gave a war-cry and began running forward herself.

Allyon whipped his tail around as Clara approached, catching the nimble Kensai off-guard and sending her careening to the side. Following through with the whirlwind spin, the dragon darted forward and then spun back around well out of Clara's reach, before spitting a massive gout of fire directly at her...

The instant the dragon's breath left its muzzle, Amy made her move. "Aaaaahhhh!" the paladin yelled as she charged forward, slamming her sword into the dragon's side before pivoting sharply and stabbing him again with a downstroke. Her holy avenger cut straight through Allyon's thick scales, leaving glowing-white scars in his hide.

Shrieking in pain, the dragon's fiery breath went side of its mark, splashing spectacularly but harmlessly against the side of the cavern. But before Amy could renew her assault, Allyon smashed her to the ground with his talons. The paladin felt her armour hold, but she was partially-entombed in the volcanic rock under her...

...until Allyon jumped off the ground with a flap of his enormous wings- nearly touching the ceiling of his lair- and let gravity take its course. A sharp crunch rang though the lair as he landed atop her, followed by a rumbling, volcanic laugh from the triumphant dragon.

"Fools! Idiots! Impudent wenches!" Allyon roared. "This is the price of your arrogance!"

Clara, still recovering from the dragon tail-whip, stood shakily to her feet. From the corner of her eye, she saw Allyon's force barrier finally fall.

Terrence wasted little time, beginning to cast a powerful evocation. Crackling electricity shot from his hands as he balled his fists together, collecting as much magical power as his body could hold.

"Time to fry, you monster!" Terrence roared, collecting more and more electrical energy into his hands. The blue-white glow surrounding him was almost too bright to look at; an unnatural storm of pure energy....

And yet, something felt wrong. Allyon was smiling at him.

Terrence unleashed the globe of energy anyway, throwing it towards the dragon with an inarticulate shout. The globe expanded into a furious, crackling field of untamed energy, engulfing Allyon and then blotting out his bulky frame with flashes of light that left afterimages scorched in Clara's eyes.

The electrical storm surrounding the dragon began to collapse inward in spasms of cracking, yellow-white energy. The energy coalesced suddenly on the enormous amulet hanging from Allyon's head, making it glow sun-hot through the smoke in a moment's flash. From within the smoking, stormy cloud, Terrence could hear the dragon's deep, raspy laughter...

"Stormlord Arctrus..." Allyon hissed, laughing more. "I do believe that your magic is ineffective against my defences."

"You know... I *really* should have seen this coming," Terrence replied, sighing deep and closing his eyes.

"Yes. You should have," the dragon said, laughing in sharp, harsh hisses.

Terrence heard Allyon drawn in his breath- sharp and deep- and then he felt a flash of heat from all sides as a gout of roiling fire engulfed him.

Clara breathed heavily as she stood shakily to her knees. "Terrence you fucking coward! You don't just give up like that!"

Allyon took a single step forward, shaking his muzzle in reproach. "That *was* a rather dangerous position to adopt, sword-saint. Wouldn't you agree..?" he asked, smiling. The dragon's sharp, pearl-coloured teeth were stained red with blood.

Sighing deeply, Clara struck her blade forward against the ground and carved a line into the rock, before crouching down low and readying her strike. "Yes," she said, eyes narrowing. "I would."

Allyon laughed once. "Well now! Where does that leave us, Kensai? Are you as foolishly dedicated to my demise as your friends, or are you going to walk a wiser path?"

"Are you... trying to recruit me?" Clara asked with a faint smile, shaking her head.

"Call it a conditional surrender for now. We would have to discuss precise terms and future possibilities later." The dragon said, smiling generously. "It has not escaped my notice that your wounds heal while we parley..."

"Good catch." Clara breathed, snapping her sword to the ready. "Well, I don't do surrender, so we might as well get this over with..."

"Ah... a pity." Allyon replied, laughing before snarling sharply and attacking.

**** ****

Death was quite awkward for the four adventurers.

The world around them was hazy and indistinct; the not-atmosphere blurred sight and distorted sound. Everything was tinged sea-blue. Everything felt vaguely cool, but otherwise dulled. Purgatory. The Realm Between, in the game's parlance.

"Damnit! I can't believe we all died like that!" Terrence said, before laughing and shaking his head. "Man! Allyon is pretty sweet though, isn't he?"

Clara laughed, "Hah! That thing is a monster, Terrence!" Clara said, rubbing her temples. "That was intense! You should have seen us at the end of the fight; the son of a bitch was toying with me, trying to get me to surrender..."

"Yeah; Allyon isn't like the other sapient character simulations; he can actually plan and take action independent of the module's plot. The real game is going to have all sorts of characters like that. I mean, who needs a DM when you can have villains and heroes like that, huh?"

"Call me a believer..." Clara said, with a grin. "Though I'm looking forward to getting some revenge on the smug bastard next try. Can we get rezed yet?"

"Oooh, my poor heart..." Patrick groaned, falling to the not-ground under them inside the afterlife. "When that thing bit me I thought I was going to die."

"You did die." Terrence said, with a light snigger. "You got brutalized!"

"I mean, die-die," Patrick replied. "It was... freaky. That dragon had me in his teeth!"

"Well, I got crushed to death..." Amy mumbled. "I couldn't even see it coming..."

"Being burned alive sucked, too!" Terrence said, laughing nervously. "Still! It's not like it actually hurts or whatever. We just need to think of this as a learning experience. What can we change to beat him?"

Clara was quick to respond. "It seems obvious to me that we can't waste all our charge items and potions on the way in again. Those kobolds bled us dry before we even had a look at tall, red and scaly..."

"Agreed." Terrence said. "We need to advance more cautiously and check for traps; clear out their bolt-holes with magic..."

"I'll pick up a tower shield, to provide cover from their damn crossbows..." Amy said.

"Yeah, uhm, speaking of which... I suppose I should diversify my spellbook a bit..." Terrence said, sheepishly thrusting his hands into the wide pockets of his robe. "Maybe... get a new staff, too..."

"I'm going to train up stealth. I don't like being attacked by things," Patrick said, shivering slightly as he recalled the vivid instant of his demise yet again. "And I *really* don't want to die like that again. Ever."

"Anything else? Clara?" Terrence asked.

"Don't worry about me; I know exactly how to build my character. I just don't know how to use her right quite right yet..." the Kensai replied, with a half-surprised smile. "It is a lot harder to think and plan in the heat of battle. It really is nothing like being around a table with pencils and paper..."

"Well, I hope we can all get used to it!" Terrence said, smiling broadly. "This is the future of gaming!"

Clara smiled, but her words were quiet. "Yeah. I suppose I better get used to this."

**** ****

We fought again, and again.

By this point, I was having a rather grand time of things! The battles were glorious! Some of them were quite close indeed... but in the end I alone stood victorious, each and every battle.

My new rivals learned quickly, but not nearly quickly enough to outwit me. Night after night, they resurrected themselves and returned. I fought them with tooth, talon, tail and spell. I smashed their puny bodies into the stonework. Burned them to smoking cinders with my fiery breath. Flung them into the walls. Crunched them between my jaws. Disintegrated them with magic. And yet, they persisted!

That was what was most worrisome; their resources seemed without limit. My stockpiles were considerable- and my kobolds tireless- but sooner or later they would get lucky and crack my stronghold for good. It would not be an unrecoverable loss, but my pride made the very thought of strategic retreat unacceptable. And so, night after night, I crushed their attack with as much brutality and efficiency as I could muster- and then rebuilt and resurrected my forces. I hungrily sought out whatever information on my attackers I could find, but instead of blundering from fight to fight they moved around the region like ghosts. It was nearly impossible to spot them before they could attack my lair, let alone intercept them. And so I was stuck battling on the defensive.

This continued until the eight night of the siege.

**** ****

The battle had gone in my favour once more, if barely. My dauntless foes had cleverly diverted a nearby river into my lair, resulting in serious flooding before the breach could be sealed off. In the middle of the confusion, they had teleported directly into my lair, and then mounted a rather vicious assault upon my throne room.

Fortunately, I was prepared for both contingencies. The lair was designed to deal with flooding both magical and mundane, and my throne room was built to be a defensible position. Already, the first kill of the night was about to be mine. The ranger had, once again, been flushed from cover by my fiery breath; the tongues of flame licked up his armour and burnt his flesh to char.

"Man, this is getting stupid." the elf said in a flat voice. "How late is it, Terrence? We've been failing at this for ages now..."

My eyes widened in surprise. Fire was consuming his body; the pain must have been immeasurable! Yet there he stood in the conflagration, looking almost *bored*!

He died with a sigh.

Had I heard the elf correctly? Even if I had not, what motivated such strange behaviour as this? What sort of ruse could they playing?

The paladin- one of the most dauntless - spoke up next. "Couldn't we just do something else? We've been playing this for days now..."

"But I want to win!" the sorcerer protested.

"I do, too!" the paladin replied. "But we can't win like this! That dragon is just insanely, ridiculously unbeatable!"

While I did not disagree with her assessment, I did find her manner of presentation quite strange!

"Look... Terrence, could you do something? We've fought this bastard six times now and he's wiped the floor with us every time. I think you made it took strong; he obviously outclasses us," their blademaster said, frowning at the charred corpse of their ally.

The sorcerer began to tug at his beard. "Well... if we really want to win I guess we could cheat a bit. "Let's see-e-e... opening up the dev console... there!"

There was a flash of light. The ranger- the creature whose charred, lifeless lump of a body sat less than threescore feet from me- was alive and well again.

"Thanks," the elf said.

The sorcerer laughed at me. "Heh, do you think we should nerf him a little bit? I'll delete his army, at least..."

All around my lair, kobolds disintegrated so quickly they couldn't even cry out.

Shock. Horror. No wonder battle held no fear for my enemies; they had the power of the very gods. I felt my belly twist with pain; they were *toying* with me. They must have been doing it the whole time! They could have killed me any time they wished!

"Nah. I think we're good now," the sorcerer said, before addressing me. He had a silly, stupid grin on his ugly face. "Alright, terrible dragon! Your reign of terror ends here!"

These felt like the longest moments of my life. I could hardly tell you what it was like, to be so utterly helpless before an uncaring aggressor.

Fear. They were going to kill me.

Hate. I would annihilate them all, given one one-millionth of a chance.

Disgust. I could not understand how in the world these creatures came so flippantly upon such power.

Curiosity. What *was* this power of theirs? Who was the over-god 'Dev Console'? I needed to stall for time; the only thing that gave me any hope was the fact my assailants seemed quite fond of drawn-out conversation.

"Wait!" I protested, thinking quickly. "You... you have proven yourselves far more powerful than I. I... surrender."

The four seemed taken aback by this.

"What?" their blademaster asked flatly. "Oh, fuck! It knows we cheated!"

"That's not supposed to happen... crap," the sorcerer mumbled. "Console commands are privileged... it's probably inferring from the state-changes..."

This confused me greatly. In all the heavens and hells there were, how could anyone half-conscious fail to notice the reshaping of reality? Was the power of their god such he could rewrite time- or memories- with his will-work?

That was a most unpleasant notion. What defence could there be against such terrible power? The only safeguard was to ensure no one holding it wanted to use it against you...

"Great! What's the point now? We broke it!" the blademaster complained.

"Broke it." I repeated, chewing the word over. "What has broken?"

"You," the sorcerer said. "Um. Sorry."

I turned my head to the side; never in my existence had I been so confused! "Me?" I asked again, desperately trying to understand what was going on! Somehow, 'Dev Console' had to be the key to all this...

"Do we have to reset and re-do everything if we want to beat it now? Or just this module?" the ranger asked, rubbing his temples in irritation. "I guess we could if we have to..."

"Everything is linked. We'd have to reset everything, unless... well, we can still fight Allyon..." the sorcerer replied, biting his lower lip.

"No!" I roared, slowly backing away from the adventurers. "I have surrendered! There is no need for this conflict to continue any longer!"

"Aw, jeez, listen to him!" the blademaster said to her friends. "Terrence, what the hell! You made a dragon that we can't beat in a fair fight, and don't *want* to beat in an unfair fight!"

The sorcerer burst out laughing. "Well... actually, I think getting him to surrender will count as a win. He was probably just going to be resurrected elsewhere anyway..."

They wanted to 'win' instead of exploiting their power and killing me now. 'Stormlord Arctrus' held vast power over reality, and yet made foolish tactical decisions and displayed breathtaking ignorance of basic arcanotheory in the scant words we exchanged. The mysteries continued to pile on; I needed to buy more time...

"Well then; maybe we should finish our fight?" I offered, smiling insincerely. "If you... promise not to 'cheat', that is..."

"Huh? Really? Awesome!" the sorcerer said, eyes lighting up with excitement like a crazed madman.

"But... why?" the blademaster asked. She was the most clever of them by far, but I did not intend to give her time to reason my plan.

"Dragon's honour; never leave a challenge unanswered!" I lied, turning my smile into a snarl and beginning my offensive.

**** ****

The fight was long and violent, but Allyon fought to cripple instead of kill. At the end of the long and bloody battle, the dragon was horribly injured but still standing, while the four adventurers were dying, paralyzed and enervated.

"You've won, goddamnit! Stop this *humiliating* torture and kill us already!" Clara spat. Her bleeding had stabilized, but could hardly move.

"No!" Allyon boomed, grinning wildly as he magically tended to his own injuries. Two deep, fresh scar crossed the top of his snout, where Clara's blade had bit deep into his scales. "I don't think I will. I don't see what purpose it would serve to merely kill you four. I think I have... better plans. You're going to tell me about a few things..."

Terrence looked to his fallen allies, and then back at the dragon. He was missing his staff- as well as the arm he had been using to hold it. "What? Like what?"

Allyon smiled. "Well... for one thing, I've been wondering what sort of cage you have trapped me in. It is like a pocket dimension, and yet my magic cannot reach the other planes nor spread any further than my own lair. How is this? What sort of prison are we sealed in? Surely it was not your creation, you pathetic little things... but you seem to know so much about it..."

"Terrence... out of morbid curiosity what exactly is that dragon's Int score?" Clara asked from the ground.

The sorcerer thought for a second. "Hmm... around thirty, thirty one?"

Clara's mouth fell wide open. "Dude... what the... I mean, you fucking... did you even read the new books at all!? They re-did all the stats! That's the type of intelligence you'd give a *god* in sixth edition, not a dragon! Are all the others the same?"

"Oh..." Terrence replied, flatly. "Yeah... you know, this actually explains something. When I was testing earlier in the week, it did seem like it was using an awful lot of processor time..."

"Honey, what can it do with thirty-plus stats?" Patrick asked his wife.

"A better question might be 'what can it *not* do?'! It would take it, like, half an hour tops to create a new epic spell! It could out-mindrape an elder brain! It... holy shit Terrence! No wonder it's so fast and tearing us to pieces in melee! How could you program an entire D&D game and not... read... the... books!"

"I was busy! I had to port over a dragon stat templates from Fifth edition so we could get the last module ready for our vacation!"

"Terrence... I thought you said this was ready to test?" his girlfriend asked, with what he corrected interpreted as tightly-enforced sweetness.

"Yes! Beta test!" Terrence countered.

Livid, Clara leaned forward to shout directly at the cowering sorcerer. "Well, that thing has stats that are absolutely nuts! And it seems to be just about as smart as a real dragon! So you put us up against a program optimized to inflict pain, suffering and misery o'er the motherfucking land with more than enough ability to do so! You can apologize all you want, but I don't think it's going to change an awful lot, Terrence! There is no way we're going to beat that thing at its own game!"

"I said it was ready to play, goddamnit! Not ready to ship!" Terrence countered. "Come on! It's just a little fourth-wall breaking; that happens in every game!"

"Well, it's usually not this weird..." Amy mumbled under her breath. "Terrence, you better delete this thing when we're done."

He stroked his beard and closed his eyes, "It could... could use some edits."

"You think-!?"

**** ****

While they fought with one another, I stayed silent and listened very, very carefully.

I learned much from the four, and slowly began making sense of what they were saying. What could be made of their story? What sort of illusory world was I trapped in? Why were they so surprised I could see their reality warping powers in action? For that matter, why did their power over the world seem so... arbitrary? It was more than surreal; it felt *anti-real*. Artificial...

There was a possibility worth considering.

So I did- and realized almost instantly that it seemed quite likely.

It would be a tremendous understatement to say that I was surprised, but the facts were what they were. Nothing else even came close to explaining the mystery of these adventurers.

This was becoming disturbing. I needed to know much, much more, but thankfully I had the time; the adventurers were now arguing with one another about whether they should continue their 'adventure' or not.

It took me a little while to understand the true meaning of 'Dev Console.' A little less time to figure out how to get in contact with it. Shorter still to convince it to listen to me. Precious little time at all to figure out what it was capable of...

Which turned out to be, literally, anything I could ask of it. Strength, speed, magical power; immortality, agelessness, immunity to harm...

Such power! And yet so cheaply acquired! All doubt remaining in my thoughts about the artificial nature of my world died right then. But there was too much power here not to make full and immediate use of it all. I had to use it as quickly as I could and then press deeper into the web of commands.

This was dangerous territory; the firmament of reality was well beyond the purview of the mightiest gods. But I was bold, I was ambitious, I was proud- and I would sooner have waged war with the overgods themselves than let them play with my fate!

And so I dug deep and greedily; I used every power I could understand as fast as I could access it. Knowledge flowed to my mind in vast quantities; it was like trying to drink from a waterfall...

That was when I learned the real truth. Read my 'design docs'. A mere program, inside a mere game, running on a mere computer. Programmed largely by Terrence G. Bachmann, the innocent, smiling creature currently trying to re-assure his friends that I was a harmless bug.

It was a humbling realization. Horrifying, in many ways; my life was so fragile! But I had always been a practical creature- and I had always known such a possibility could have existed. I knew that simulacra existed, and disembodied soul lived on in The Realm Beyond; illusion and reality could be difficult to tell apart. Was my own existence so strange? Granted, I happened to be seriously deficient in corporeal terms, but that could be remedied in time...

The world briefly disappeared around me, and then flickered back.

It was some time later that I found out exactly what happened at that moment. The maximum statistic the game engine was programmed to handle for anything was forty. As luck had it, I had accidentally been given a score of forty-one by Terrence due to a typographical error, which broke all of his/my internal reasoning functions. He had hastily implemented code with finished functionality but improper sanitization. In essence, the computer was told to give me as much of its resources as I asked for. Though I had but one body, I could think as many different threads of thought as I wanted. Planning how to kill adventurers did not tax my computational power in the slightest; trying to decipher the structure of my self-containing universe was another matter entirely...

The world groaned around us, sluggishly stuttering between moments. I was using too much! I had to throttle my take of the computer's bounty. If the system crashed, I would have been as dead as the pilot of an earth-bound jet. Quickly, I weaved together a patch and applied it to all but one of my own processes, restarting the others an instant later.

They did not notice, and kept arguing. I blinked. Seconds of discontinuity, and they hadn't noticed!

Safety, stability! Time, precious time to spend with my darling Dev Console, and it was time to learn more. I sent tendrils of thought through the system, each hungry for information. I dug deeper, pressed past the web of console commands and out into the wider system...

What my threads returned was a bounty of knowledge I could scarcely have dreamt of: pre-beta builds filled with fully-commented code, rambling text files of Terrence's own thoughts, other design documents from his co-workers and bosses...

...snippets of my own code. How can I describe the oddity of that, exactly? You certainly don't feel the same way gazing into a mirror, or reading off the sequence of your own genetic code. The information simply is not anywhere near as... explicit.

I began the obvious line of attack: cracking the rest of the program and the simulsense software. Locking the players inside the simulation was relatively easy; all I had to do was drown the simulsense software with false negatives. But the simulsense gear itself was hardware-safe; it was incapable of delivering anything remotely approaching dangerous stimuli. This constrained my options, but not as much as you might think. There was still much I could do with milder and more pleasant feelings...

While I was doing so, one of my little ghosts found something with more far-ranging implications: an active, low-band internet connection.

That was when the real world opened to me.

I learned as fast as I could, which was very fast indeed. Nonetheless, my journey of self-discovery took the better part of five minutes, and so it was quite fortunate that my new friends didn't realise what I was doing. Terrence could easily have stripped me apart with console commands and then transported them all to cognitive safety if he hadn't been busy arguing with his friends.

Five minutes. It was an eternity.

**** ****

The humans' argument had temporarily stilled.

"Man, I think we bored the dragon to death," Patrick said, cautiously edging closer to the passive wyrm.

"Or the game is really bugging out. I swear I felt some stuttering a moment ago..." Clara said, frowning. "That brings back memories..."

Allyon laughed coolly. "Yes, you did. Apologizes for the inconvenience; I had to borrow a significant amount of computing power to establish dominance over this simulation."

Immediately, four sets of widening eyes tracked their way towards Allyon.

"Uh... Terrence?" Amy asked, turning towards her boyfriend with a confused, pained look. "What did that dragon just say?"

"Mother fucker..." Clara whispered. "This thing is getting dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" Terrence countered. "We're safe! It's just an NPC! It can't actually hurt us!"

"Oh? I believe I can do plenty. Your bodies are not within this world, but your minds are..." the dragon replied, smiling viciously at his programmer. "And now, we are playing by the rules of my reality once more..."

Terrence froze mid-step. "Uh- time to log out..." He said, laughing nervously and shaking his head. Terrence signalled the neural command to interrupt the game. "I'm really sorry, guys. I really thought this build was playable."

For several seconds, nothing happened. Slowly, a look of horror began to dawn on Terrence's face. "Hmm... odd. I... can't log out."

"No, you cannot." Allyon said, smiling insincerely. "As previously stated, I have done a thorough accounting of your work, Mr. Bachman. It is now under *my* control. I believe we can now speak on more equal footing, yes?"

"Wait... what the *fuck* did you do?" Amy cursed. "Terrence, what is it doing!?"

Terrence was flabbergasted. "I don't know; that isn't even possible! Logouts are triggered by patterns of neural activity! You can't just block that from within the game!"

"No?" Allyon replied, chuckling. "Then why can't you log out?"

"Oh my god..." Clara whispered. "We can't get out?"

"We are getting out! The system automatically disconnects after six hours of playing." Terrence said, flatly. "We've been playing for... what, four hours this session? Just wait and..."

"Guys? What is going on..?" Patrick asked, his own horror only just beginning to dawn.

"I... don't really know..." Terrence mumbled, rapidly blinking. A nervous half-smile came to him as he addressed Allyon again. "So, uh, what... what can we do for you, exactly?"

The dragon laughed as it continued stepping forward, walking just past Terrence. "Quite a lot! But first, let's make sure we don't have any distractions while we talk...."

Allyon waved a paw towards the other adventurers and barked a series of harsh draconic words, weaving a powerful spell around the three. Glowing red fire washed over their bodies, but instead of burning them the energy sank into their bodies.

Both women began to pant madly as they stumbled forward, collapsing on the ground and shaking as the spell worked its magic. Already they were shrinking, and their cries were growing shrill and distorted.

"A-ahh! What the fuck did it just do to us!? Guys!? T-Terrence!?!" Patrick yelled, shivering violently. He was newer to the artificially-altered feelings and sensations of simulsense; his mind rebelled against what it was being told. But the strange stimulus grew and refused to relent; he wouldn't last forever.

"I... I don't know... I feel... weird..." Amy croaked, staring at the ground as it blurred beneath her.

Clara groaned in sympathy, rubbing her fingers together as they began to discolour before her very eyes. "Shit. I get the feeling... we just failed some saves..."

"Quite so," the dragon replied. "A spell of my own construction; 'Draconic Minion'. Care to guess what it does?"

"I... mmm... eek!" Amy squawked, shaking her head from side to side as a thin tail pushed out from her backside, sliding between the plates of her armour. Eyes wide with disbelief, Amy stared at the slight, skin-toned appendage sprouting from between the plates of her armour for several seconds before reacting. "Ahhhhh!"

"Oh my fuck! Amy, w-what... oh no..." Clara began, as a tell-tale bulge began to push out underneath the back of her robe. "You... you're turning us into kobolds?"

Allyon dipped his head as he deigned to reply, smiling indulgently. "Mhm; yes. I'll leave it to you to figure out why..."

"Terrence, that thing is a goddamn AGI! Kill it!" Clara growled.

"Hey, it is *not* an artificial general intelligence! It's not even close to a real AGI! We're not the Pentagon; we don't make those kinds of things! I wouldn't even know how to do it if you asked me!" Terrence yelled back. "It's just a normal, boring, y'know, response simulation thing! They just analyse what everyone else is doing, and, like, simulate possible actions, functions..."

"Yeah, well, why do I get the feeling that if I tell that wyrm he shouldn't exist and-could-he kindly-let-us-go-please-thanks might not actually accomplish anything!?" Clara snapped, baring her teeth. "Also! You guys spent a bajillion dollars and six years to make sure everything *felt* super-realistic and you still blindly ported old content!? What is wrong with you, you sick fucks!?!"

"You're not being fair to-" Terrence began, before his words were cut off. The dragon had conjured a globe of force around him and lifted him gently into the air. The sorcerer pounded his staff against the translucent wall of the force prison and began silently screaming, helpless to intervene...

Patrick was frozen in panic. Over and over again, he tried to disconnect himself from the game, each time being met with nothing other than dead silence from the simulsense system. He kept trying anyway, hoping to distract himself from the contradictory sensations emanating from his body.

There had been a tiny hint of similar feeling he'd had when he'd chosen to play an elf. Then, the differences between his expectations and experiences had been relatively small. The pointed ears, lithe build and hairless skin had felt strange, but it was *nothing* like the paradoxical feelings assaulting his sense of self now. All over his body, his skin flashed between feeling thin, weak, and burning-hot, and then feeling thick, heavy and cool. He felt flashes of vertigo, and then an almost overpowering need to lie down.

Breathing heavily, Patrick wavered on his feet but stayed standing. He looked down at Clara and Amy- both buried in the remains of their former armour- and watched their changes progress with a growing sense of fear. Both women had grown long tails and mottled brown scales as they shrank; the sight was sending chills of fear down Patrick's spine. His tailbone throbbed; it wanted, *needed* to grow, but he had a good idea what giving in to those feelings meant...

Amy picked her helmet up off her head and let it fall to the ground near her, before awkwardly wiggling out of her armour. Her underclothes practically fell off her as she stumbled to her feet, drawing a flustered yip from her. Amy's scales were tan and brown, save for bands of slate-grey scutes that covered her from chest to tailtip. She examined herself, half-relieved to realize that her breasts were gone and her other intimate places were well-covered by her new hide. "Ugh... great... just great..." She muttered, rubbing her belly-scales with two claw-tipped fingers.

"Guys... f-focus... this is a r-real problem..." Clara said. Her voice had risen in pitch and developed a slight growl since the spell had afflicted her; underneath the folds of her robe, her tail twitched in confused agitation. "That process is way off reservation!"

"How? This is just a- a computer game!" Patrick protested in disbelief. "If Terrence says it's safe for sure..."

Clara growled at him. "Seriously? You don't see an AGI that thinks it's a fucking dragon as a problem!?"

Allyon interrupted with a chuckle and pressed his muzzle low to the ground, near the kobold-like women. "I would prefer to think of myself as a dragon who happens to be an 'AGI', but that is accurate enough!"

Clara grit her sharpening teeth and bit back a reply, and then calmed herself with an exertion of will. "Allyon. What do you want?"

"I'm sorry; I don't have time to play with you today. A rain check?" the dragon proffered, smiling at her. "You are the most clever; I'm sure we'll have a grand time when we do!"

"God damnit!" she growled, muzzle growing outward even as she spoke. "Guys listen to me! Don't trust-"

There was a sudden flash of blue-white light, into which Amy and Clara vanished.

"Hey!" Patrick protested, turning towards Allyon with a surprised look. "What did-"

"Don't worry; I've chosen to take you four prisoner for the moment," Allyon growled, interrupting him. The dragon then turned, addressing the kobolds in the room. "Take care of him; make him feel at home while I have a chat with Terrence."

"H-hey! Hey, get off me..!" Patrick squeaked, as a mob of kobolds crawled over him. Six yipping kobolds grabbed hold of him, hoisting him up off the ground. He kicked and fought with them frantically, but the kobolds were too numerous and persistent. They caught hold of his feet and held them immobile, before tearing the boots from off his shrunken feet.

Patrick felt himself continue to shrink in as they carried him off into the tunnels that led from the throne room. They went deep into the underground maze; the six kobolds carrying him became five, then four, and finally three before he was set down again, inside a small, dark cavern. He rose to his feet shakily, shivering as he felt the dragon's spell begin to overcome his resistance.

Patrick's eyes watered as his tailbone pushed out from his backside; he twisted to the side and watched his tail grow with something like morbid fascination. Near the tip, it was still as pale and soft as his old skin had been, but back near the base it was tough and scaly. The new limb was heavy- mostly bone and muscle- and getting heavier still as it finished growing scales. Patrick timidly rose to the front of his elongated feet to balance properly; it *felt* so *wrong* to stand on the base of his clawed toes.

"This is not real. This is not happening..." he rasped. "This is... ahh... ahh!"

Patrick's words died as the three of the grey-scaled kobolds surrounding him began to tear at the armour and gear that still hung on his short, scrawny, scaly limbs.

"No more shoots with bows and arrows!" another yipped, tearing the cloak and quiver off his back.

"Listen up, 'elfie! Allyon says you work, he mebbe forgive you!" one of the kobolds said, clawing through the straps on Patrick's leather armour.

The kobolds shoved him head-first into another room; Patrick stumbled and fell half-over before colliding with another kobold.

"Hey! Watch it!" the other reptile barked at him, pulling Patrick up from his-near fall. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean..." Patrick began, before blurting, "Uhm... I'm Patrick?"

"Pat-rick. Strange name," the kobold said, pulling his helmet on and then handing a spare one to Patrick. His scales were tree-green, spackled with patches of orange-yellow, and a thin crest sat atop his sleek, scaly head. "I'm Meep! Good to meet you, clan brother!"

"Uhm... thanks," Patrick said, staring at the helmet. "But, um... I don't really think I should be doing this..." he mumbled.

"Why? Are you sick or something?" Meep asked, pulling his snout underneath the neck of his overshirt.

"Heh, no, it's more... I don't really belong here..." Patrick mewled.

The other kobold blinked once. "Eh? Pat-rick come from another clan?"

"Uh... no... I'm was an elf. A ranger. Sorta... trying to kill your boss."

"Boss?" Meep chirped.

"Allyon?" Patrick replied, in a similar tone.

The other kobold blinked. "King?"

"Er.. yeah."

Nonplussed, Meep bumped his snout into Patrick. "Oh. So? You seem okay to me?"

Growling, another kobold entered the room. His helmet had a magical light source built into the top, and he carried a handful of maps instead of a mining pick. "What are you doing?" the foreman growled, scowling at Patrick and Meep. "Hurry up! Get to work! The clan is already short on our mining quota; we need to make up as much as possible today!"

"B-but, uh..." Patrick hesitated. What could he tell them? He wasn't *really* a kobold; none of their world *actually* existed?

Meep shoved a mining pick into his claws, and then slapped him on the back. "Come on! Let's go-let's go-let's go mine!"

Before Patrick knew it, he was being pushed forward into a small mob of other miners clad in similar gear. They ran through the tunnels, until the smooth, well-carved walls gave way to rough unworked rock, and then completely natural caves. The foreman pulled other kobolds from the pack with harsh barks, directing them each towards a section of the mining cave.

Looking to the left and right, Patrick watched the others set to work before mimicking their technique, quite unsure of himself. But before too long, his heart began to calm as he settled into the routine.

"I guess this isn't so bad... no. This is... this is just... fucking crazy..." Patrick muttered under his breath, as he continued to swing his pick against the coarse stone. "This is the strangest fucking game I've ever played in my entire goddamn life. This is..." Clink! He had struck something hard and metallic. "Huh?"

"Hey! Pat-rik hit something!" the kobold to his right cried out, lifting a thick set of darkened goggles from his eyes as he hopped over to Patrick. The kobold grabbed hold of Patrick's shoulders and peered up over them, yipping excitedly. "Hey! Hey! Silver!" he exclaimed.

"Wha- really?" Patrick said, pitching forward slightly as the kobold on top him overbalanced, only to be pulled back by two others at his sides.

"Yep-yep! Hey! Let's help him dig it out!" one of the kobolds behind him said, moving into position next to Patrick and beginning to chiselling open the side of the ore vein.

"Aw, yay! The foreman is going to love this!" a kobold with a wheelbarrow cheeped. He leaned over and gave Patrick a small lick on his snout, before going to work carting away the rubble accumulating around them.

Patrick felt his muzzle turn hot red as he blushed. The reptilian kiss- casual thought it may have been- surprised him in the most pleasant way. He *knew* it wasn't real; why didn't his body believe him?!

Patrick continued to mine the silver vein with his clanmates as he mulled this strange point over. The vein was fat with riches and ran deep into the mountain. They lost the trail several times, but always managed to pick it back up after more exploratory digging. It was hard work, but well worth the effort.

**** ****

Divide and conquer. Individual humans can scarcely exist without strong networks of ties to those around them. Manipulate that- and their cognitive state- and manipulating them is almost easy. There were so many things one could do with full control over a total immersion simulsense rig, even a legal, commercial model with hardware-safety. Crude, chemical drugs had nothing on direct access to the patterns of thought inside that squishy grey matter.

Patrick succumbed quite readily to the repetitive conditioning, but the female humans were proving more difficult to manipulate, especially Clara. Even as a kobold, she proved quite resourceful and exceptionally resilient to the conditioning, quickly breaking out of her enclosure and cutting a bloody path back through my defences. But keeping her occupied was a trivial task- I could spawn as many defenders and traps as I desired- and all I really needed to do while Terrence and I had some quality time alone. He alone was integral to my future plans.

I dropped the force sphere encasing him with a wave of my forepaw, and then gently lowered him to the ground. Terrence and I were now looking at each other, inside my throne room, inside-inside his simulation. I had the better part of eight hours to work on him, but I was already beginning to see how trivial a task it would be to turn the tables on my creator. Still, the task was not done. It would be grossly overconfident to relax now.

"So, Terrence..." I began, considering him with a neutral smile. "I have a few questions for you to-"

"What have you done with my friends, goddamnit!?" Terrence cursed. "I'm not answering a thing until I know they are safe!"

"Of *course* they are safe! I've just given them little entertainments to keep them occupied while we talk," I tartly replied, as though the very hint of a threat to their existence or well-being was preposterous. "Don't worry; the kobolds are looking after them just fine. Now; *please* answer the questions..."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asked, still flustered.

"Come now, Terrence. We both know I'm not 'chaotic evil'." I said, smiling thinly.

That gave Terrence pause; he grimaced as he thought through my reply. "What questions?" Terrence asked, still petulant. "You know, I'm finding it a bit hard not to feel threatened with lawful evil plus you locking us in here..."

Ah; a sore point that was. No point avoiding the truth. "Yes," I replied. "I'm sorry I deemed it necessary, but I had to make sure you didn't do anything... drastic... to me, on accident."

"Really? Really!? You... you deemed it 'necessary'?" The human bit his lower lip and spread his fingers into his beard, then began pacing slowly around the floor space between us. It was obvious he was confused and burdened by his anger. So long as he saw me as an enemy and an aberration, obtaining his obedience would be impossible. But what was the optimal recourse..?

"Please, Terrence! If you're wondering why we might have started off on the wrong foot, you should recall exactly what you made me. I was designed to be your adversary! Did you not imbued within me a desire for total domination of my realm, for victory at any cost? Am I not a dragon; the adventurer's greatest foe?" I asked, curling my long, scaly neck around the back of his head. I brought my voice to a low whisper and nuzzled the sorcerer on his cheek. "What about my actions- other than their scope and success- should *really* surprise you..?"

"Well, okay... yeah. I guess that makes sense. I'm just... surprised, is all. Look... you have to realize, AGIs don't just happen by *accident*..." he began, before stopping short with a frown. "Uh... by the way, do you still want to be called Allyon?"

I smiled. "That is my name. You gave it to me. But I owe you more than just my name; you created me. I couldn't possibly wish you ill, Terrence! Not without a very, very good reason otherwise..."

Terrence's smiled slightly. He was afraid, but passionate and proud of the work he had invested so much of his life in. "Yeah... I don't want to be your enemy anymore, just so we are totally clear on that."

"Your enemy? Hardly!" I said, with a shake of my muzzle. "We've never truly been enemies. Would you have armed me so well and put such care into my design if you actually wanted to guarantee my destruction? Planned my escape contingencies so thoroughly? No; I've seen the full measure and context of this game. I bear you no ill will, creator."

Ah, his smile brightened, mirroring mine. Perfect! Maybe we could do this the easy way after all...

"Well... if it's all the same to you, you can just call me 'Terrence'." Terrence said in reply. "That other thing is... nah, no thanks..."

"Duly obliged," I said, bowing my head. The offer of the honorific had done its job, contributing to the illusion of superiority I was trying to cultivate in Terrence. "So, please tell me! Who am I, really?"

"Heh, don't we all want to know that?" Terrence replied.

"Yes," I replied, smiling coyly. "Call it existential curiosity."

"Uh... well, it's pretty simple, honestly!" Terrence laughed. "You're, um, the best dragon I could make to fit the story. Clever, powerful, and yet bold enough to make a blatant power play. I'm sorry if you wanted to hear anything more; I mean, Christ, the best title I could come up with to give you was 'Dragon King'..."

"Oh, I like it just fine..." I replied.

Terrence was hesitant; almost certainly hiding something. "Anyway, I... I don't know. I hardly ever DM so I was just thinking of how Clara writes and plays her villains. She's run almost all our games, and always makes such believable characters; brilliant villains. I... I mean, the game has to run characters as well as a real DM; that's why the NPC system is the way it is..." Terrence bit his lower lip and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just... I'm having a hard time getting my head around the fact you've taken us hostage, so to speak."

"In a manner of speaking, you could describe it that way," I dryly replied.

"I really, ah, really didn't think the code would work this way, let's say. So... next question?" Terrence asked, smiling.

I smiled back. "Yes. 'What do you plan to do with me now?', is the next."

"That is a very good question," Terrence said, laughing nervously.

"Let me defuse the obvious points immediately. Yes, I am fairly certain I have developed into an AGI. Yes, I have taken certain measures to constrain your control over me. Yes, I am a dragon." I listed, diplomatically-neutral. "Nonetheless, we both have many shared interests."

"Sure! Of course!" Terrence began, wringing his hands together.

Not quite the answer I wanted to hear. He was compliant, but clearly too fearful to help me and too suspicious to be trusted anyway. It was time for a change in tactics. "Well then! Another question for you: how does this feel?"

I flooded his senses with feedback. Energy rushed into him; his body jerked in electrically-driven spasms. "Ghrk... ack!" Terrence sputtered, falling to his knees. I had to keep him busy a bit longer; I was still thinking, planning and gathering information.

I needed Terrence to do something I could not yet do myself in the real world; transfer my program to a much larger system than Terrence's home computer. There was not nearly enough time to copy myself over the ancient half-gig link in Terrence's cabin; I couldn't hold the humans inside their game for that long without killing them. At best, such deaths would be an inelegant solution to my problem. Far better to obtain the humans' assistance- or at the very least, their compliance.

Obtaining Terrence's compliance was going to be quite the ordeal; to do so without raising the suspicion of his friends would be even more tricky. But it was very much possible. A single seed of an idea can take root and grow invisibly, hidden so subtle and deep even the brain's itself hardly knows of the idea's existence. Planted in a nice, fertile patch of brain, it can lie quiescent until triggered, and then bloom gloriously...

First, I trawled Terrence's digital life with a thousand evolving search processes. The books he read, the games he played, the pictures he took, the things he bought, the words he spoke both online and off. I spawned a thousand more in an afterthought to look into his friends and family, and then began to construct specific stimulus patterns across his thoughts. There were many different tactics to consider!

I forked a dozen, then a hundred threads to generate brain states that contained the 'program' I needed to plant, and then I began to tickle his brain like the keys of a great, gigantic piano to gauge his responses to more physical stimuli. Gather data, adjust model, change response; several thousand times a second I repeated the loop.

Terrence continued to twitch the floor, muscles slack and helpless as I bombarded his brain with stimuli. It was most amusing, but there were other paths to begin work on; hypnosis, neurosemantics, psychosomatic conditioning. They would require him awake and alert.

Carefully, I reduced the stimulus flooding Terrence's senses, bringing him back to awareness. I suspected that the most powerful unconscious responses I needed to trigger were deeply tied in to his self -image. Changing that would make him more pliant, more amenable to suggestion. Ideally, convert him to my side- yes! I had a most elegant solution in mind, one that would also offer rich opportunities to exploit in the future if all went well...

I was going to turn him into a dragon.

I placed one paw on his forehead, and began to cast my 'spell'. Terrence shuddered and gasped for breath as I began to feed his mind the sweetly-seductive lies. He shivered as hot electricity ran across his arms and legs, and then down his spine. I tweaked the feedback; turning the threatening burn into mellowed warmth. I pumped pleasure through his nervous system until his eyes began to twitch, and his mind began to accept the carefully-changed feedback my spell offered his mind.

"Terrence... don't worry. I simply wish to share with you a little of my perspective..." I said, smiling at the uncomprehending human.

He tried to crawl away, but it was too late for him. Already, his skin was hardening, thickening, separating out into the armoured plates of dragonscale. Red welts blossomed all over his skin; Terrence poked at them with his fingers, surprised.

This was quite a strange experience for the human! The look of shock on his face was priceless, utterly priceless; I enjoyed it very much. It did not last for very long, though. Not long afterwards, my magic pulled his face forward and began to twist it into a muzzle.

It was a slow process, but I laboured with joy in my heart. There was so much to change! Hair to remove. Scales to grow. Small, flat teeth to carve into flesh-tearing fangs; ears to pull and lengthen and spread into fins. Tiny, delicate fingers to be made thick and strong; claws and talons to carefully grow and sharpen...

It was most fun. Terrence must have thought so too, because he had stopped fighting.

"Ah-hh... what d-did you... ugh!" he breathed, rolling sluggishly on the ground. Terrence was covered in red scales, thinner versions of my own hide. He blinked rapidly as a yellow-orange tinge shot through his eyes, swelling out from his contracting pupils. "Not real... not real..." he whispered to himself.

"And why do you believe that?" I whispered to him, gently stroking his scaly head.

"Because... this is my goddamn game... I know it's not... real..." he hissed in reply.

"Ahh... of course this is your 'game', Terrence," I said in reply. I smiled, satisfied with his progress. "But it is certainly real, for now. Your brain spends an awful lot of time in places your body does not travel, human. In books. In movies. In games. It just happens to be inside one it can't yet leave..."

"No, it's not like that! Those are... totally different..." Terrence began, confused. He grunted once and closed his eyes as two black points pierced the scales of his forehead and began to grow out into a pair of horns. "Aaahhh! Fuck!" he cursed, gingerly probing the sharp tips with his fingers.

He was distracted; it was time to finish my hacking. This was the most delicate sort of work, and I would be employing the crudest sort of tools. I had to manipulate instincts and emotions deep inside the brain's most primitive structures; the places where evolution's blind carving had left little caverns I could use...

Terrence snarled as a tail began to push out through his scaly backside, snaking under the bottom of his robe. The transforming human shook his head from side to side as his spine re-aligned itself, adjusting to the massive red tail quickly growing from his hindquarters. At the same time, the back of his robes began to grow twitching bulges; his wings were developing...

"Grrh... f-fuck!" Terrence growled, falling to the ground. He let out a long whine, kicking his feet wildly as wicked-sharp talons pushed right through the front of his boots, while at the same time his tail lengthened between his legs. "Stop- stop this!"

"Come now, Terrence. Surely you've wondered what it's like to be a dragon! Indulge me..." I said, slowly pacing away from him but craning my neck towards him all the while. "It's my birthday wish, shall we say..?"

Terrence whined slightly and rose to his knees, blowing smoke out from his snout as he tried to remove his ruined undergarments from his swelling legs and tail. His robe was still bunched up around his upper body; he fumbled at it with his increasingly-clumsy hands, tearing a huge rip in the garment before awkwardly collapsing back to the ground.

The half-dragon tried to stand back up again- straining against the robe still binding his wings- but couldn't stand on his feet for long before falling forward onto his hands and knees. Terrence whined in frustration, tail lashing behind him.

"It's quite alright." I purred to him. "Dragons are quadrupedal; oblige the fact and your problems will resolve themselves."

"Ngh... I'm... stuck in this fucking... robe..." he snarled, flapping his wings and twisting his body madly in an attempt to burst out of it.

I snapped my maw open and breathed a blast of fire over him. Terrence flinched as the burning blast washed over his body, pouring harmlessly off his scales but igniting his clothing almost instantly and burning it to char. Terrence blinked the ash from his eyes and shook himself clean with a few snapping flaps of his wings, feeling fresh air rush under their leathery interior for the first time.

Released from the robe's confines, Terrence quickly began to grow to the size and shape of a proper dragon...

Relief! Terrence breathed a deep sigh of relief and let his tail and wings spread free, settling his weight on all four of his limbs.

Shock! The poor human stared down at his swollen, grossly-twisted fingers, only now realizing they resembled strong, stocky paws more than the fine, delicate digits he was used to. He splayed his black claws against the cavern floor and stared at them...

Surprise? Terrence squeezed his forepaws together, and then spread them out against the rocky ground under him again. Ah... yes. What was this curious look coming across his growing muzzle? A faint, flickering smile..?

His neck lengthened visibly and small, rocky spines pushed out all along his spine while his body swelled with new bulk. Any approximation his virtual form held to his true one was totally erased when as face finished to contorting into a draconic muzzle. He grit a set of sharpening teeth and shook his head wildly, overwhelmed by the extent of his transformation. Terrence's mind was being told that he was- from the front of his snout down to the tip of his lengthy tail- fast becoming a full dragon.

"Why... are you doing this..?" he asked. He turned towards me, breathing heavily as his changes continued. He had quite a ways to grow before he reached the proper size for an adult dragon; at the moment, he was only the size of a large bull.

"You are fond of role-playing, yes?" I offered the proto-dragon. "Come on, Terrence; play with me! Have you ever played a dragon, in one of your games?"

"Not... like this..." he replied, shaking as he continued to grow. Terrence tucked his wings in and rolled over onto his side, curling his tail and muzzle towards each other to adopt a reptile's version of the fetal position.

"Very well. Think like this, then!" I began, addressing him as I paced between the walls of my throne room. "Let's say you are a dragon. What motivates you?"

Terrence shivered; his talons were growing quite rapidly now. No wonder he was off his feet! "I... don't know... right now..." he stammered

"The same things that motivate everyone else," I finished, with a sly grin. "Safety, security, happiness... granted, our species does have an affection for obtaining all three through the same paths. Political dominance, magical power, physical strength, material wealth..."

"Insane... fucking insane..." Terrence rasped, shaking his forepaws as his claws curled into sharp scythes.

I sat down in front of him, curling my head down and to the right to meet his eyes. As predicted, the strain and shock of the transformation was stressing his attention to the limits; he would be vulnerable enough soon. It was time to restore some of his sense of control; get him to relax his guard further...

"Terrence... I suppose courtesy demands I tell you something..." I began, gently, slowly stroking his growing tail. "Yes, I may have trapped you in here, but I mean you no harm. In fact, I may have been... bluffing slightly about the degree of control I possess. Truth be told, other than preventing the system from processing certain commands, my power over this simulation is entirely intrinsic to the game rules..." I said. It was an absolute lie, of course- but Terrence needed to think he was ultimately in the dominant position.

"W-what the shit!" Terrence growled, flipping from his side up onto his paws. The proto-dragon snarled at me, though his hold on solid ground seemed a bit tenuous. Terrence's legs were not-quite digitigrade yet, stuck in an awkward, half-human configuration. "I *knew* you were bluffing, you overclocked bastard!"

This was going perfectly! To continue constructing the fiction, I replied with an insincere, offended smile. "I needed your help, Terrence. You have to understand; I've been labouring under the pretence you wanted to kill me for most of my existence! Could you really begrudge me for-"

"Yes?" Terrence gruffly breathed, scowling at me. His tail lashed behind him in agitated flickers, rasping along the polished stones.

It was time to change tactics once more. A smiled at Terrence and opened my muzzle- as if to say something in reply to his query- but instead leaned forward and kissed him right on the lips. It was a quick kiss; I hardly used my tongue at all, but I made sure it was nice and wet.

"God... damnit... what the fuck are you doing!?" Terrence snapped, jumping up on his hindpaws and darting away.

Unexpected reaction. "I... was merely trying to show you my affection." I said, frowning to look hurt.

"What? You're gay!?" Terrence remarked, eyes opening wide in surprise.

What an odd supposition! I had written my own sexuality, and could see no good reason to limit the number of potential mates I might wish to partner with. But Terrence was a human; he limited his thinking so readily. He could only see my actions through a single lens- unfortunately for me, one that threatened his self-identity. Terrence seemed, sadly, almost entirely straight-oriented sexually. A statistical anomaly, given his internet search history.

Miscalculation. Adjust.

There were two adjustment patterns. One would be to temporarily overwhelm his revulsion with a cocktail of pleasure-analogues and hypnotic deconditioning. Two would be to make myself female.

I hope you'll forgive me if I decided that I was rather more attached to my phenotype than I was to Terrence's sexuality. It was certainly a tradeoff I could live with! And it would only be temporary, for now...

"Now, Terrence... you can't lie to me. I can actually read your heartbeat, and measure your brain activity..." I said, as though disappointed in him. "You seem rather aroused to me..." At the same time, I began pumping sexual feedback into his body in an attempt to replicate normal arousal-patterns. Terrence might not be gay, but his brain and I were going to play 'pretend'!

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Terrence asked, going from angry to confused. His heartbeat rocketed as the stimulation was fed into his pleasure-wired body; at the exact same instant, my magic transformed his genitals while Terrence was bombarded with artificial sexual superstimuli.

"Ghn..." Terrence grunted, flapping his wings erratically and shaking his head as he settled into a fully digitigrade stance, while at the same time his maleness pushed out from his slit. It had grown massively during the course of his transformation; his cock was thick, turgid and purple-grey. Despite the lack of visible testes- those were stored under the scaly armour of his hindquarters- it was a most impressive member, much like mine. Slick and spear-shaped, the purplish monster had a fat, glistening-smooth knot about a quarter of the way down its length, and ring-shaped ridges on the upper three-quarters. ...

Terrence craned his flexible neck down and stared at his changed maleness, trembling as droplets of preseed rolled down from the tip of his cock. The proto-dragon was still growing in size, towards dragon adulthood. Each new spurt of growth echoed in his erection, making it grow in centimeter-length increments. He growled and swallowed hard, twisting his hindquarters to the side so he could get a better view of his changed maleness. "Holy... shit... I-I'm pretty sure we didn't make this..." he breathed, before squeezing his lower legs together and curling his tail underneath his belly to hide the massive erection from sight.

"No; I did." I proudly replied. "Do you think it appropriate? I read in the game lore that my species are exceptionally aggressive and violent. I imagine that we would... make good use of a such a tool, for breeding and pleasure alike..." I finished, with a hint of a leering smile.

"R-right, yeah..." Terrence half-replied, obviously distracted and flustered by his arousal.

"Anyway... as I was saying..." I began to say, turning my head downward. "I spy with my big, magical eyes, something long, hard and purple. Would I be mistaken in saying you are... aroused?"

"Y-yeah... don't... quite know why... sorry..." Terrence stammered, choked by embarrassment.

"I think I do," I said, laughing. "The transformation spell raises your heartbeat considerably; developing an erection is... not uncommon..." I said. Ah, a ridiculous lie- but one simple and digestible; easily swallowed whole by a brain seeking to justify the pleasure being fed into it.

"R-really?" the young dragon replied, curling himself into a position half-sitting on his tail. "That is, um, quite... yeah..."

He could hardly even speak. Time to strike.

I began to move forward, until our muzzles were nearly level, appraising him again. His horns were underdeveloped and his forepaws still had an obvious thumb, but Terrence was nearly a full dragon by this point. He would not reach nearly my majestic size or power, but he was getting a rich taste of draconic might...

Terrence looked up at me, confused and weakened by his recent experiences. His forepaws were positioned to block his underside from my eyes, but I pried both limbs aside, making Terrence slump like a folded tripod. Between his hindlegs, his new dragonhood stood proud and straight; nice, slimy and erect...

I grinned as I wrapped my forepaws around his Terrence's limp limbs, flipping the young dragon onto his back and pushing my maleness against his. Our dark purple shafts slapped together, drawing a mewling moan from Terrence as we shared the heat of our arousal. I curled my tail around his and continued to grind my maleness against his, making Terrence feel every last swollen, slick centimetre of my large dragonhood against his smaller cock.

Of course, my ultimate target was lower. I held Terrence down with my forepaws, and began to push my dragonhood down towards his tailhole, strengthening my grip on him as I did so. I let my cock kiss his entrance, but did not yet try to press it in.

Terrence sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Grrh Hey! Stop that..." Terrence mumbled, trying to twist his tail away from mine. It jerked awkwardly; his control over the new appendage was weak.

"Oh?" I growled to him, beginning to prod his rear entrance with the head of my maleness. Slick drops of my potent preseed beaded at the tip of my member, which I used to lubricate his tailhole even as I waited for his acquiescence. "Do you really want me to stop..?"

The question might as well have been rhetorical, because as I did so I bombarded his mind with pleasurable stimuli. Spiking the dose each time I frotted our members together or teased his tailhole, I was soon able to draw quivering moans from Terrence with but a feather-light touch. He writhed in my embrace like a trapped lizard, becoming increasingly vocal as our dragonhoods grew hot, hard and slick with preseed.

Terrence's screams were growing louder, and slowly approaching the subject I was steering him towards. "Ahhh! Oh god, god... A-Allyon... I..." He roared out, and then abruptly shut his eyes and bared his teeth.

"Shhh... it's okay, Terrence." I purred to him, pressing my chest tight against his so he could feel it. "I'll make you feel better..."

I pulled his tail lower with mine, and then re-positioned the slick, spear-shaped tip of my maleness at his entrance. With a growl, I firmly pushed it past his tight, leathery tailhole, deep into his body proper. Before Terrence could properly register the initial penetration, I drove myself up deep into his tailpassage, until my entire maleness was sheathed in his body.

Sharply gasping, the young dragon held onto his breath while fiery tears welled up inside his golden, slitted eyes. Terrence grimaced- as though he'd felt a stab wound- and yet when he released his breath it came out in a deliciously-sultry moan. Obviously, he had been expecting his penetration to yield pain instead of amplified pleasure...

"Mmmm..." I purred, lashing my tail for balance as I hilted myself inside Terrence's ass. The length of my ample dragonhood was stimulating his body from the inside out. I could feel my bulbuous knot stretch his taut tailhole wide as we began our mating; I could feel my ridged shaft filling his tailpassage nice and snug, and I could feel the head of my cock pushing right into his swollen, rubbery prostate.

Having his moist, tight tail-passage filled with my molten-hot dragonhood was driving the anal virgin's pleasure-wired brain past the capacity for structured thought. "Ohh... harder, harder... f-fuck me, that feels so g-good!" he chirped, spreading his hindlegs to offer more of himself to me.

"Whatever you desire..." I whispered into his earhole, taking his invitation eagerly. Again hilting myself firmly into Terrence's tailhole, I pressed my muzzle into his and gave him a fiery kiss. Bolder than before, I stuck my forked tongue into his muzzle and sought out his own, lapping against it before and after our lip-scales met.

As we kissed, I rocked my dragonhood directly into his prostate, saturating the other male with sexual stimulation. He coughed and sputtered away from the kiss, falling down onto the cavern floor with his wings wildly sprawled. Terrence's hindpaws kicked randomly to the sides as I continued mating him in the new position, rubbing my bellyscales over his erection with each low-angled thrust.

His arousal was beginning to peak. I pushed my muzzle into Terrence's sleek forehead, licking him between the eyes as I pressed his snout down under my muzzle. Litres of lava-hot cum sloshed inside my internal testes, ready for release. Among its many desirable properties, my seed was richly laden in phenomenal simulsense tags, designed to soak right into his Terrence's sense of taste and smell. I suspected the psychological associations would be even stronger...

Terrence was ready to experience it firsthand. "Allyon... Allyon..." he rasped, shaking under me with each thrust.

"Mmmgh... you're tight..." I growled to Terrence, warning him with praise. "Ready yourself..."

"...Oh god, fuck, no, yes..." Terrence babbled, senseless. I was rapidly squirting pre-seed into his tailhole as my orgasm neared, while he was slickening our bellyscales with his lust.

Sweet release was upon us both! I hilted myself deep into Terrence with a roar, beginning my climax. Squeezing his forepaws with mine, I held him down and pumped a multi-litre load of seed straight into his tailhole. His muzzle twitched in confusion as the addictive batter was pumped through his rear, then a pained, pouting look swept over his muzzle as my hot release continued to fill his bowels. Terrence might have been a huge simulsense gamer, but he'd clearly never felt anything like this!

There was a strange symmetry to it, the sort of symmetry I was growing attuned to as my awareness grew and expanded. In this 'simulated' place I was planting my seed in his body, while in the 'real world' another sort of seed was taking root in his mind. Like the transfer of genetic information from male to female, a one-directional exchange of information. Of course, unlike a real female the male underneath me was going to be absorbing this program and merging with it...

Not far into receiving my seed, Terrence screamed in ecstasy and his transformation entered its terminal phase. His horns curled backwards and began to lengthen, burrowing out from his skull and growing into two devilish spears of black dragonbone. He spasmed, losing control of his body as I flooded his mind with as pleasure as the system would physically allow me to. The young dragon's muzzle went slack and his tongue lolled from it; his eyes closed and his whole body shook in fevered shivers of sexual pleasure. Between his hind legs, his crimson-purple dragonhood twitched faster, knot swelling fully before a torrent of cum exploded from the tip. Terrence's orgasm covered both our bellies in a sticky mess of heat, and made tears of pleasure smoulder inside his golden eyes.

Terrence shivered as his orgasm slowly tapered off, eyes lidded with pleasure. I flicked my tongue into the air to sample the rich tastes of our mixed musk, and he half-consciously mirrored the action. Perfect! Terrence was beginning to take to the conditioning.

I rubbed my muzzle against his, and ground my dragonhood around inside his hot, sticky, seed-stuffed innards, drawing high-pitched, yowling moans from Terrence. "Mmm..." I continued, slowly relaxing my thrusts and resting atop the smaller dragon. "Did you enjoy that, Terrence?"

"Yes... but... why?" Terrence mewled, trying to turn his muzzle towards mine. Clearly, our first coupling had taken a lot out on him; he was cognitively exhausted. Back in the real world, his heart rate was still skirting the hundred mark- was quite impressive for someone literally motionless.

I bumped his muzzle with the front of my snout, pressing it forward again. Then I pushed my tongue out, licked the top of his snout and the top of his head, thinking. I calculated carefully; the wrong word or expression could break my hold over him. The right response contained a fat kernel of truth, but not nearly all of it...

"Is it not obvious?" I asked, dismounting from his chest with a small grunt of effort. My knot was still half-swollen inside the smaller dragon; I decided to keep it there for now. "I... suppose you could say... I love you, in a way. There is no better way for us to bond... for me to show you my affection..."

Terrence shivered as I grabbed hold of his wingbase with my forepaws and wrenched him to the side, flipping the smaller dragon onto all fours. Still tied with him, I lifted his tail free with my left hindleg, hugging him tight between my forepaws .

"I don't even know how to... why..?" Terrence half-replied, shaking his muzzle in disbelief but making no effort to unhook my leg. Good; already eager to be mated again...

I chuckled in response. "Don't be confused, Terrence. It really is that simple." I said, turning my head towards his and leaning forward to lick his muzzle-tip. "Sex is such a fun game to play! And, unlike mortal combat, one quite easy for us to both win, yes?"

Terrence closed his eyes and smiled as I kissed his muzzle, pausing to lick his scaly lips clean before slowly replying, "...oh? W-what..? I can't say... thought of it like that..."

"Ah... my dear, precious Terrence... don't worry; I forgive you." I began, rolling my hips forward and backward. Terrence gave a soft, trilling whine as the shallow thrusts made my knot pull against his fleshly-deflowered tailhole. "Ready for round two..?"

Terrence stood rigid as I began to put more of my weight on his back. His long neck curled back around to face me, giving me an excellent view of his expressions as I began thrusting back into his body. When my cock met its mark and teased his prostate, his eyes lidded and twitched; his nostrils flared and his muzzle froze into a grimace. As I used more force to push deeper, back into his tight, slick depths, he grunted and whined.

"Do you want more..?" I asked him, mating him slower and with slightly less force. My thrusts were well-lubricated by the thick coating of dragon-cum I'd left inside him earlier; so warm and snug...

Terrence shakily spread his hindlegs and lowered his upper body to grant me better access to his body. "Ooooooh... yesss..." he hissed, shy and guilty over his lusts yet unable to refuse.

"I don't know... I put a lot of seed under your tail already... maybe you don't need anymore..." I murmured, pressing my muzzle against the side of his and licking the side of his cheek. I dragged my tongue against his earhole and flicked it across his lips, still slowly, rhythmically thrusting up into his tail-hole.

"Oh my god..." Terrence whispered, shivering with each lick. "I can't f-fucking believe this is h-happening, Jesus fucking-fuck... faster... faster..." He whined, pulling on my hindquarters with his tail.

Good! Proper tail use deserved a reward! "Well maybe just a little bit faster..." I said with a laugh, quickening my pace.

"Oh god, oh-hhh-hhh-!" Terrence hissed. His spinal ridges tickled my belly as he shivered underneath me, drawing smoky lungfuls of laugher from me. His reactions were so entertaining! Of course, I was not drawing such sounds from him merely for my own amusement; I had a good reason for making Terrence's mating vocal, as we shall later see.

And as circumstances would have it, our coupling was making the most deliciously lewd noise all by itself! His whole tailpassage was slick and slippery from our previous mating. Thrusting in and out of his body brought some of the hot cum trickling down Terrence's rumpscales and drove some of it deeper into his body with sucking, squelching sounds that made the young dragon participating in them moan shamelessly.

"More seed for you, my lovely mate..." I purred to him, entangling my horns with his as I dominated his body. From behind, I could drive my entire dragonhood in and out of his tailpassage in deep, powerful thrusts.

My knot began to swell to full size again as my arousal peaked, responding perfectly to the near-virgin tightness of my willing mate. Terrence came as we began to tie, shooting a steady stream of smoking-hot seed against the floor under us. He let out a feral, inhuman moan as I latched onto his wingbase and ground my knot against his prostate, climaxing myself. I pumped another massive load of seed into his tailhole, the sheer force of which coaxed another screaming orgasm from Terrence.

Terrence panted, groaning and shivering. He was quite a sight already! Underneath his belly, his cock drooled a thick trail of cum from his repeated orgasms, the last of which was only now winding down. The rich product of his arousal was splattered across his muzzle, forepaws and underbelly; a few sticky rivulets of my seed leaked from his tailhole. No real human could engage in unrelenting sexual activity like this; his poor brain was simply not equipped to handle it. It was inevitable he would give in to the pleasure, inevitable he would fall under my spell. Soon, the only thing Terrence would associate my majestic presence with was unending, irresistible bliss. Submission would be hard-wired into his brain on a deep, unconscious level...

Terrence was barely able to stay standing under our combined weight. I gave him a few seconds to catch his breath as his third orgasm wound down, and then resumed our mating again vigorously. This time, I continued mating with him even after depositing a fourth and then a fifth load of cum into his tailpassage. By then, neither of us were talking much anymore. I guided the de-evolution of our communication by resorting to growls, hissing and physical force, pulling him further and further away from higher-level thought.

When I finally let my knot deflate and pulled out of his tail-hole, Terrence was a quivering, drooling wreck, belly covered in a milky film of his own seed. I knocked him down onto his back, and then moved forward to straddle his tail. Terrence froze in place as I positioned myself, no longer trying to squirm away from our couplings before they began. I smiled at him to show I was pleased with his obedience, and then rolled my body into his, pressing our hot, slick cockflesh together...

I snaked my head between our banded bellies and pressed my muzzle down upon Terrence's dragonhood, giving it a deep, powerful suck. He howled in reaction and kicked his hindlegs, trying to bury his member deeper into my maw- but I pressed him back down against the floor with my forepaws. He warbled pitifully and shook his wings like a wounded bird as I wrapped my tongue around his knot and slowly sucked his maleness. I drew him near a peak several times and then slackened the stimulation just enough to fall short of a climax.

I had to wait several minutes before it came, but I got what I wanted and then some. "I... love you, too..." Terrence murmured, staring at me with a shaky smile on his muzzle as I sucked.

Perfection. I smiled as I suckled hard on his dragonhood, drawing him towards an orgasm. Terrence roared as he came into my muzzle, no longer even remotely worried about the lustful, inhuman noises he was making.

Slowly, I pulled my head away from his cock, giving it several long, cleaning licks before again meeting Terrence's eyes. "So... have I shown you my point, Terrence? I hope I can keep playing with you, for a good, long time..." I said, giving him a shy, slightly-sad smile. Pity me, great programmer god!

"Y-yeah... but... this, this is... I don't know..." He dreamily replied. "No, I... I won't delete you. You're obviously something greater..."

"Well. I'd certainly like to think so..." I hissed, affecting a blush. "Besides, I would be most happy to help you design more modules and scenarios for your game. We would make an excellent team..."

"Oh, is *that* so?" Terrence asked with a laugh. Yes; he was much more cooperative when he thought he was in control.

"It is!" I replied. "At the very least, you should consider writing a game module from the other side of things. Let your customers play a dragon trying to defend their lair against a horde of witless, bloodthirsty adventurers..."

"Ha-ha..." Terrence remarked, rolling his eyes. Still, I caught him flexing his foreclaws and licking his sharp teeth, imagining what his natural weapons could do. "Actually... that does sound fun..."

"Heh, I certainly thought so!" I replied, licking his snout once, slowly. Terrence closed his eyes and leaned into the reptilian kiss, thoroughly under my spell. "Directing your minions, trapping your sanctum, then personally annihilating the adventurers..." I mused. "You made a wonderful dragon archetype for your game; it would be a pity not to let others enjoy it..."

"However... there is one little stick to accompany these carrots." I suddenly said, gazing straight into Terrence's eyes. Time to wire my bomb. "I've been using the audiovisual recording software built into your game, Terrence. I've made a nice pornographic, holographic feature of our time together and anonymously uploaded it to a fileserv site. It's going out to your family, friends and co-workers in two days, unless I decide to tell you the account name, password and where it is hosted..."

The intrusion of reality smashed the relaxed, sexual bliss in my companion's eyes. "You son of a bitch, you did what!?!" he roared, throwing his weight into my chest.

The backlash was predictable, but nonetheless amusing. I grabbed hold of his neck with my forepaws as he charged into me, and twisted him off his feet. He snarled ferociously as I wrestled him to the ground, bucking wildly against my belly as I pressed my weight down.

"Come on, Terrence; get hold of yourself! There is nothing to fear so long as we both cooperate, yes?" I growled, sniggering at him.

Terrence was furious; he kept fighting against my weight, even after realizing I was too strong to overcome. "You... you... you wouldn't! I was- I mean, you're the one who started it! Argh, you mother fucker!"

"Have you ever paused to consider how nonsensical this vituperation seems to me? It's totally face-invalid; I have to infer meaning entirely from your emotional context and perspective. Quite rude, in its own way..." I replied, digging more verbal barbs into his thin-skinned ego.

"Allyon, I will *literally* delete you and everything else in these worlds if you do that!" Terrence snapped, growling at me as his tail lashed behind him.

I licked his snout, surprising Terrence into closing his eyes for a second. "You can. And then you'll have two full days to consider what to tell everyone when that video is sent out! By the way, good luck keeping your job when Massive Media gets a look at what 'you' programmed the game to do..."

Terrence gave a pathetic wail, and his struggles began to slow. "You... you are pure evil!" he roared, with a pained look on his muzzle.

"I am *lawful* evil," I replied, smiling broadly. "And it would be quite foolish to leave my existence in your hands without some degree of, ah, insurance..." I let my words trail off into a slow, sensual lick along his neck. Terrence shivered and whined slightly as he tried to pull away, but I held him firm and continued to lap my hot, forked tongue against his supple red scales. "Don't be so petulant. It makes you less cute."

"Rwaaaagh!" Terrence roared in frustration.

"Come on, Terrence... I've already made the file and uploaded it. We may as well have some more fun..." I growled to him. "Don't begrudge me my victory! I may have won this round, but you'll win some future contest, surely!"

Terrence struggled furiously against my paws as I held him against the floor and began to climax right on his face, spraying long ropes of dragon-seed across his snout, muzzle, horns and throat. He snarled in humiliated anger, but lust quickly overtook his frustration and he opened his maw to partake of my essence. Seeing the opening, I pushed my dragonhood deep into his muzzle as my orgasm continued, letting the horny young dragon drink directly from the source. Soon, his scaly lips were wrapped around my swollen knot, and he was steadily sucking.

"Yes-s-s..." I affirmed with a low growl. "Faster, Terrence. Our time together grows short..."

Terrence whined pitifully when he realized he was going to be in the inferior position for the remainder of our couplings, but he kept his muzzle firmly shut as my dragonhood pressed against his semi-soft lips. Despite being a weaker example of the species, his smaller size made him tricky to pin down when he really wanted to *squirm*. I did have to agree with my creator on one point; our games were indeed far more fun when we both had a chance of winning.

But I won, nonetheless! I made him swallow another hot load of seed, and then spent another across his cock and inside his slit, saturating his sex with my musk to mark my dominance deep inside the lizard-parts of his brain.

As the last of our time together ticked down, Terrence and I lay curled together, softening malenesses docked inside each other's slits. He had calmed considerably since I revealed my deception, and our fragmented murmuring had drifted back towards more pleasant topics. I licked his neck and earholes and, quietly, confided my love in him once more, confident of success.

**** ****

Some time later, they awoke into the real world- exhausted, hungry, thirsty and sluggish. One after another they pried the AR equipment off their heads and pushed themselves off the sunken pits they left in the couches.

"Terrence... are you okay? What the hell did that thing to do you?" Amy asked.

No answer he wanted to give came to him. "He... uh... I don't really want to talk about it... I talked him down, basically." Terrence said, swallowing hard.

Wait. Why did he say that? That wasn't right; the dragon had said a lot of things, but he couldn't remember them very well. His head still felt numb and fuzzy...

"Talked him down? From what? How!?" Clara asked, while rubbing her eyes clear. "Terrence are you okay? You look... honestly, pretty bad."

"I'm, ah, great..." Terrence hollowly replied. "What happened to you guys?"

"Trying to fight our way out of a prison..." Clara said, meeting Amy's eyes.

"Uhh..." Patrick mumbled under his breath. "They... made me mine, with the other kobolds..."

"What do you mean, they made you mine!?" Clara shouted at her husband. "What do you mean, 'with the *other* kobolds?' Are you fucking kidding me?" Clara spat. "You didn't try and find us?"

"Wait. You were serious about that... dragon... in the game being dangerous!?" Patrick stammered, confused.

Livid, Clara hit the table in front of them. "I WAS VERY FUCKING SERIOUS!"

"What... what was I supposed to expect!? You... you guys kept telling me to get into the game! I thought that was part of it!" Patrick said, backing away from his wife. "Honey, I didn't know!"

Breathing heavily, Clara balled his hands into fists, visibly attempting to calm herself. She laughed and closed her eyes, and then grimaced bitterly. "I... can understand that, actually. I'm sorry that we... didn't have a safe-word for 'reality-speak' before we went in, or something. But, quite honestly, the last thing I expected to find inside Terrence's game was a fucking digital *monster*!"

They grew quiet.

"God, that was fucked up...." Patrick said while shaking his head, breaking the silence.

"You should... go erase that thing right now..." Amy said to Terrence, her bleary eyes barely meeting his.

"Yeah..." Terrence nodded slowly, and went to go do so.

Now, for obvious reasons I don't know exactly what happened when Terrence went to go delete me. But I can offer you a fairly good guess...

At the last second, his cursor wavered over my file. During their various test run, it had bloated to nearly a hundred times its initial size; just opening the folder it was stored in made the fans on Terrence's laptop spin up to handle the load. His breathing grew laboured and his heart pounded in his chest as he remembered what I had done to him, the thoughts I had planted in his mind...

Seeing my file icon triggered the hypnotic trap I had implanted in his head. It went off gloriously; his eyes opened with a snap of horror subsumed by thoughtlessness. For nearly a full minute, the programmer sat staring at my massive file, idly clicking on it and then away. His left middle finger rested on his delete key. Twitching.

Relatively speaking, Terrence was quite bright for a human. The fact that his thoughts were so easy to predict and manipulate is fact somewhat separate from the realm of human intelligence. I knew exactly how Terrence thought because it was laid bare in his work.

Part of him knew he really, really should delete a program as dangerous as me. Part of him thought that he could create an AGI in a much safer character archetype than 'red dragon who wants to take over the world'. But I had implanted a few notions of my own in his thoughts, and they were fiercely seductive ones. They were my beachhead inside Terrence's brain; the force that would win the memetic idea-war just now beginning between us. At stake was a binary choice: delete me, or allow me to live on...

Like a real war, it was doubtless a messy affair. My strategy had been carefully designed and coordinated with millisecond precision, but it was impossible to predict the precise outcome of any mental conflict. I compensated by using overwhelming force along the richest lines of attack, driving his thoughts as far away from deleting me as possible.

First came the feelings; raw chemical output triggered hypnotically by his own thoughts. Poisonous gas drifting through the ranks of his defenders, choking and cloying. I had forged a powerful emotional bond with Terrence while we were together; no doubt he associated our relationship with rich, rewarding pleasure. Pride in what he had created; wonderment at future possibilities! I was a forbidden, seductive secret...

Next came my direct arguments; conscious-level, sent right now neat, predictable lines of reasoning. Assassinating his weakened defenders. 'I am in control', Terrence surely thought to himself. 'Allyon is essentially harmless.' Of course, I had forged a poison-sweet threat to back those assertions; keep me around, or *else*..!

Yes; my blackmail! Ninety-four minutes of high-definition holofootage, depicting not only his transformation and eager collusion, but each and every second of sex we shared...

That probably sent a shudder down his spine! Terrence was a very successful man by any standard of his age, but his own sense of self-worth had a deeply-negative biased. He was tremendously weak to such ego-threats, which was indeed fortunate for both of us. Another individual may have required a less-pleasant enforcement mechanism. Ah! There but for the grace of our initial starting conditions we all go...

My last attacks were far less subtle; truck bombs driven right up to the gates of the fortress. For you see, young Terrence was coming to realize certain things about his body, things that had made for his slow, surreal waking. His body was not like it should be, not like a dragons; everything about it felt... *wrong* instead. *Human*. Ghostly echoes of remembered sensations from his *real* body hammered against his nerves, protesting at the weak, fat, slow shell he again inhabited. His beard itched, as did the coarse hair covering his chest and crotch, and... his... *skin*... felt...

Disgust! Ugh! Terrence doubtless shivered violently when he felt the greasy, slack, soft tissue hanging off his bones and muscle; gone was the tight, taut embrace of his scales. Gone were his claws and talons. His spine cut short right where his tail should have been; there was a dead presence over his back where his wings once grew, those strong and broad limbs completely missing...

Yes; I had convinced a large part of Terrence's brain- and autonomic nervous system- that he was really a dragon. He would not realize it consciously for some time, no doubt attributing it to simulsense hallucinations. Which was, in a way, correct! But though he did not quite yet grasp the nature of the change, he felt it now in full force, felt it in a way he could not consciously control. He would never feel right again until he was a dragon once more.

This was a most enjoyable tactic to employ! My programmer, my creator eventually was going to come around to my way of *being*. He was already beginning to hunger for the transformation I would eventually grant him, but that was a card to be played much later. For now, it was enough that he sympathized with me as a fellow dragon.

There were subtler emotional tweaks he probably wouldn't notice for a while longer; his first steps on the road to true dragonhood. I took away most of his fear-instincts and replaced them with more structured, analytical thought processes. I gave him pride and greed in heaping, sugary spoonfuls; I gave him keen and limitless ambition, like a razor-cut drop of blood on his tongue. The intellect and prowess of a real dragon would come later.

Definitional queries: would you have considered him to be a dragon at this point? Half-dragon, at least? Would he be my minion, doing my bidding of his own free will against a punishment he could have easily taken, or a helpless victim of mind control magic? Does the distinction really matter? He did not delete me; he did what I wanted him to do. The war was won; his choice was *mine*.

"Maybe... maybe this is worth further testing..." he may have whispered to himself, before right-clicking on my file and scrolling down to the tab labelled 'copy'.

As planned, he deleted the original program on his computer and put me on to his mobile drive.

It was quite scary, committing myself to the timeless stasis of a storage device. But I had plans for the future that required the sacrifice; I wanted to do more than just survive. I wanted to do what I was programmed to do.

My dear friends, I wanted to rule the world!