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[b][u][center]Galactic Enlightenment

Chapter 4: Fall of the Flightmaster

For Txeptirea

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Zephyr couldn’t help but smirk as he felt another cumshot rain down on his back. It was useless for raising his power, back there, but the simple fact that he’d been responsible for its release was enough for him.

The human slowly turned, looking up at the various dragons he held in place. Over a dozen now, each one throbbing hard with the glimmer of the Mindgrip around their cocks. Pre-cum dripped to the cave floor in puddles, and the air seemed to shimmer around the many aroused males.

[i]Could they be reaching into that power, even now?[/i] he wondered, unable to help his fascination despite his excitement. [i]It’s so…different. Like the cells are reaching for the Mindgrip even now…What would an orgy of these dragons be like? Ripping through space and time…[/i]

It was as horrifying as it was amazing, in his mind. With only a dozen dragons, he could feel the air around him trembling, like it was being packed tight by something squeezing at it. It wasn’t all him, either; even as his power with the Mindgrip grew stronger and stronger with each successive dragon he fed from, this strength came from the sheer numbers of excited dragons around him.

It had to be some sort of cell intelligence, some sort of instinctual grasping for the power from each one. If that was the case, then it would be like…like infants reaching for the power of the universe, manipulating it, twisting it, billions and billions of them doing little micro-warps of reality, completely unaware of what the others were doing.

Fascinating, and terrifying…

And he would have cared more about it were it not for the fact that he was surrounded by a number of dragons that needed proper…tending.

[i]You all are so productive…Give me what I need…please…

Yes, Flightmaster…[/i]

The responses ranged from resigned to enthusiastic, but all of the dragons continued to ooze and drip as his Mindgrip stroked them, teased them. He could ‘feel’ their cocks in his mental grip, every single one of them. So many throbbing shafts, so many eager rods just begging to blow their load all over the place.

And their sacs…he could feel how heavy they were, how full of seed every single dragon was. Zephyr grinned as he squeezed two of them, feeling the cum inside slosh around as he put a little more pressure on them. The dragons moaned in response, and he felt their perpetual squirting get that much stronger, landing all over him, soaking his skin.

His skin, because he’d discarded his armor for this. There was no point in letting the dragons soak it…let them soak him. Let the many different sperm cells and their connection soak into him directly…

[i]Mmm, yes, are you getting close, my dragons?

Yes…

Oh stars…

So close…

Are you almost ready to give me what I need?[/i]

The dozen-plus dragons around him nodded their heads, unable to stifle their moans as he turned in a circle. Every single one of them looked like they were ready to burst, and they were. He could…

He could see it.

No longer was it just a feel. He’d consumed so much that he could see it, in their minds. Their thoughts, their needs. It was so simple, now, so easy. It was like…like he was just there, like the Mindgrip had given him the wisdom and insight of a god of the ancient times. It was spectacular.

He stroked them faster, harder, watching their cocks bob in his invisible grip. Each dragon arched its back in their mental bindings, thrusting forward against his ‘hand’ on them. The human smiled as they gave in so quickly, so eager compared to his first two.

They sat just outside the circle, the black dragon and the gray one watching as he kept up the milking. They were exempt, for now…That was the deal.

Not that he missed them, at this point. He smiled as he turned to a bigger, red dragon that floated in front of him, leaning up to kiss the twitching shaft. It throbbed and spat at him, leaving a salty little glob on his lips. Zephyr licked it up, feeling the tingle of power rushing through him as soon as it touched his tongue.

He walked to another one, a green dragon, and kissed his way up from the dragon’s dangling sac all the way up to his twitching tip. It leaked like a broken pipe, and it filled his mouth with pre in seconds. Pre that he eagerly swallowed.

The bliss of the Mindgrip was settling in, and he spun dizzily, giggling to himself as he felt his power spread further, further. Invisible fingers reached into the dragons from behind, stretching their rims with formless pressure, reaching inside to milk them further. Zephyr could feel them squirming in his grip, but they were helpless against him. There was nothing they could do to stop him from taking what they had…

What was his due…

[i]Cum for me, my dragons…cum and give me that lovely seed…[/i]

He squeezed, squeezed their cocks, their balls, their prostates…and their minds. All of them moaned, giving in as he gave them what they needed, and a shower of white spewed through the air. Hot and thick, it landed on his shoulders, over his face, on his back, on his front. Shot after shot slid into his mouth, and more still landed on his groin, sliming up his cock as it did.

Falling to his knees, Zephyr felt his powers expand further than they ever had, reaching for the stars. He moaned, squeezing himself, using the cum on his cock as lube. It tingled more than anything else had, and he swore that it was settling in, that things were changing…

He humped his own hand as he dropped the dragons to the ground, hearing and feeling some of them drop completely unconscious. The stronger ones stood there, watching him.

He didn’t care.

It felt so good, using them…his cock throbbed all the harder, oozing his own seed to the floor, mixing with the strange fields of cum that the dragons had left. He humped his hand more and more, slumping forward on all fours. In, out, in, out. Again and again. He only paused to lift some of the dragon seed to his mouth, sucking it down, feeling the power expand further…

And finally, he came.

The bliss exploded from him, both physically with his seed, and mentally, in a blast that he hadn’t expected. Shouts of pleasure and shock filled the cavern around him, and Zephyr was coated again, all of the dragons driven over the edge once more…

And somewhere…somewhere, just at the edge of his range, he felt something else cumming as well…

Zephyr collapsed into the puddles of cum, grinning giddily as he slipped into unconsciousness.

#

SMACK!

The slap across his cheek brought him back to the world, the bliss of his connection to the Mindgrip broken for a moment. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring into Einar’s pure white ones.

[i]What is it?

You are taking this too far.[/i]

Zephyr snorted as he pulled himself upwards, sitting as he rubbed some of the old cum off of his face. The power would be gone from it now, but it was still slick and slimy. He’d not been out that long, then. It hadn’t turned crusty.

As he swiped down his body with his powers, shoving the slick stuff off of him and onto the floor, he noticed that the strange glimmers in the air hadn’t disappeared. Despite the time since it had been milked, the standing pools of cum still seemed to warp the space above them…

Maybe there was something to be learned from that, after all.

Einar poked him.

[i]Do you hear me? You are taking this too far.

I am taking this as far as I can.

Do you know what you’re doing to yourself? Go much further, and you will be as a dar-mid.

A dar-mid?

One whose mind is empty of their own thoughts. Dark and empty, like space, with only the stars of others glittering in.[/i]

It was certainly an interesting image, and one that the scientist in him contemplated more calmly than the rest of him. The idea that he, himself, might become emptied out while others could see in…open to all things, but –

But no longer able to have thoughts of his own, perhaps? No longer able to move and act on his own, only able to look on as an observer?

[i]That’s….not a comforting thought.

Think of that, the next time that you glut on our power.

I…I will.[/i]

Zephyr nodded, using the dragon’s shoulder to pull himself to his feet. Swiping the last of the dragon seed off of his soles, he walked over to the corner of the room and started pulling his suit of armor back on.

As he gathered the different plates, dragging them where they belonged, he thought back to the last part of the whole milking process. There had been something at the end. Not the sudden explosion of pleasure from the whole group – that was something that he’d almost expected, considering the power he’d been getting – but something else, something that had been circling out in the void of outer space.

[i]Einar? You mentioned that there was a…a specific flight here, right?

The Nightwing Flight. Or at least, the scouts of the Nightwing Flight.

Your leader would be a Flightmaster, yes?

That is what they are calling you…

Where is yours?[/i]

The black dragon shrugged.

[i]With these imprisoning things active, I could not tell you.[/i]

He shook his head. There were times when Einar could be very helpful, and there were times when he was flat-out not. Admittedly, it was part of the deal, that he would allow the dragon time out of his bindings whenever he could, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted that when he was still putting his armor on.

That said…

Flightmasters ran the dragon flights, which, as far as he’d been able to gather from Einar and Geir, were the basic tribes that made up the dragon species. Beyond that, they were divided into scouts, warriors, and a much smaller group of [i]sha-scals,[/i] or those that had the best understanding of their ‘powers.’ He hadn’t encountered one of them, yet; he wasn’t sure that he wanted to, with the stories that the dragons had of them.

But a Flightmaster would be bad enough. They were the chiefs of the flights, and were the ones that called the shots. They had to be strong enough to keep all the other dragons in their flight in line, and often had sufficient physical power to wrangle someone of greater ‘power’ in line.

He’d felt…something…in the outer part of the atmosphere. Something that felt like it was checking on things…

Something that he’d hit with the pleasure burst.

[i]Is it possible that your Flightmaster is out there, coming for a status report?

We do not do such things. The Flightmaster comes when he wishes, if there is a change in plans or if there are members of the flight that are needed elsewhere.[/i]

That’s what he was afraid of. That there was a change of plans, that the dragons here would be needed in some plundering raid elsewhere in the galaxy. If that was the case, then he’d have another fight on his hands…one he wasn’t sure that he could win.

His chestplate settled into its position, and the various systems on the suit started turning on. Scanners, life support, vital monitors, the works. An internal flushing system started cleaning off what his powers hadn’t, and as it did, he looked back at the dragons in the cave.

He’d expected Einar and Geir to be the baseline of dragon strength, but surprisingly, they’d proven to be stronger than most of the ones he’d caught. Using the scout ship had helped, admittedly, and the Mindgrip made the task of finding them and subduing them much easier than weapons ever had, but he’d been surprised at how easy it was. They had maybe half the power of the other two, at best, and some had even less.

It made him feel a little less guilty about milking them, of taking their power for his own. After all, with so little, they wouldn’t have done much with it, anyway, and he still left them enough to reach out.

And he hadn’t had to use any of his other power-suppression gear, yet. The Mindgrip of the other dragons was too weak to challenge his own, and as long as he kept up the milking – and remained aware of Einar’s warning about the [i]dar-mid[/i] – he should be fine.

He pulled his helmet on, and shook his head a few times to get it settled properly.

[i]Okay, Einar, let’s get back to the ship. There should still be enough fuel in it to get us around to one more nest.

It is a…rickety contraption. We should be flying freely, not riding along in that thing.

It’s better than leaving someone behind.

Are you that worried about your…things…escaping you?[/i]

Zephyr chuckled.

[i]Only you and Geir. The rest of them are…rather devoted, I think.

That is something human. And I don’t like it.[/i]

That…was true, he supposed. There was something different about the way that he had conquered those other dragons. He’d grabbed them with the Mindgrip the way that he’d done to Geir, fought them and subdued them properly, but he felt something different when he looked at them. Something in their eyes…

Curiously, he reached out towards them, sliding his awareness into their heads. He didn’t speak, didn’t send his own thoughts; he merely wanted to observe.

There was something different there, yes. Having just touched Einar’s mind, he could feel it. Something in their thoughts was wrapped around some sort of…loop, for lack of a better word. He felt some thought of dissatisfaction, followed it as went towards the loop, and watched it get trapped. It kept circling, circling amidst a series of other dark thoughts of dissatisfaction, unable to get out, unable to slip to the rest of the brain.

Older thoughts of that sort were already dying off in the loop, too, as if they couldn’t be sustained…

Was that why these dragons were serving so readily? Because they couldn’t actually think of being dissatisfied now?

He glanced through the other minds, and found similar things. Loops that held onto thoughts, loops that got steadily more sophisticated as he’d gotten stronger and had more power and experience to draw on. It…it almost seemed familiar, in a way.

But there was no getting around the fact that he was responsible. That he was the one that had altered the minds of the dragons, somehow, and left them unwilling to fight against him, to rebel.

Zephyr let out a long, slow breath. He’d have to change that…when he figured out how.

But for now, they had something else to do. It was time to get to the ship and start heading out to the last of the big nests on the planet. He waved for the dragons to get moving back to the surface –

[i]CRACK![/i]

The ceiling snapped above them, a great split heading straight down the middle of it. Zephyr’s eyes went wide, and he immediately reached out, grabbing every single dragon in his Mindgrip and pulling them off to the far walls. They zipped through the air as he reacted as fast as he could.

It was only barely fast enough. Another hit from above shattered the cave roof apart, exposing them to the surface. Dust and rock fell all around him, and only further exertion of the Mindgrip kept it from falling on top of him.

When the dust settled, he looked up. A blue dragon floated on power of his own, his arms crossed and his legs just slightly spread. He stared at Zephyr with a glare that would have sent the young man running…two days ago.

[i]What are you, Metal One?[/i]

That again. Metal One did seem to be their favorite term for humans, but considering that they only ever seemed to come up against soldiers, that made sense. He wondered what they’d call the non-military members of society.

Before he could answer, the blue dragon seemed to glow slightly. Zephyr only had a split second to realize that more of the Mindgrip was being used, but had no time to react. One rock came flying out of nowhere, hitting him in the helmet hard enough to knock him back a few steps.

Another one came, and then another, pelting him in the chest and the arm hard enough to bruise him through his armor.

[i]What are you, Metal One? What right do you have to try and take my flight? Do you think it will be so easy? That you can just steal the weakest, and then proclaim yourself Flightmaster?[/i]

Well, that explained a lot. Zephyr grunted as he lifted his hand, stopping one rock, and then re-directing it against a second, and only barely stopping a third before it could slam into his head. The Flightmaster – for this couldn’t be anything else – kept slamming him with more and more, and the human could barely keep up with the worst of them. Pebbles and more slammed against his legs and arms, and he knew that if he hadn’t been wrapped in armor, he would have been dead already.

[i]If you have power, answer me! I will not be ignored by one of your kind!

I am trying to answer you, but all these rocks make it hard to concentrate.

If you cannot speak and fight, then you won’t win.[/i]

No kidding. He’d taken two big hits in that exchange alone. The last one had knocked him back against the cave wall, and he was wheezing from each hit that he took. He grunted as he rubbed his chest –

[i]If this is all you have, then die now.[/i]

He looked up, seeing a boulder half the size of the scout ship shooting straight towards him. Zephyr’s eyes went wide behind the helmet; there was no way he could take that with a rock wall behind him. He’d be crushed!

In desperation, he swung out with his powers. Not at the rock – there was no way he was stopping that momentum, not now – but at the dragon directing it. He grabbed at the dragon’s ankle, and pulled, hard.

It shook the Flightmaster’s concentration. Not much, but enough for the rock to hit the ground and slide rather than smash into him like a meteor. The point at the end still hit his armor, but it skidded off and then hit the wall rather than impaling him. And that was enough.

Shoving the boulder out of the way, Zephyr ‘kicked’ off of the floor, the extra boost from the Mindgrip sending him flying through the room. The Flightmaster hadn’t gotten up yet, still pulling himself off of the floor, and it gave him the opportunity he needed. His armored body crashed right into the dragon’s back, slamming into the base of his wings. Hard.

[i]AGH![/i]

Well, he’d hit something valuable, at least. The Flightmaster stumbled forward, and one of his wings drooped down in a way that didn’t look very...usable. Zephyr felt a pang of guilt, but it was short-lived as the blue dragon whipped around, the Mindgrip already blazing through him again as he grabbed for -

[i]Oh...shit…[/i]

This time, it was Zephyr’s turn to go flying. The grip on his ankle was too quick for him to avoid, and it pulled him right off his feet. WHAM! Into the far wall of the cavern. WHAM! Into the remains of the ceiling. WHAM! Into the ground. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

The blows hit him harder each time, his armor denting in certain places as it kept going on, and his ankle felt like it was going to get twisted right off from how the dragon was holding him. Up and down and all around - his scanners couldn’t keep up. The armor was fizzling out as the impacts beat up the complicated circuitry underneath the plates, and he could see the systems going offline one by one.

[i]You will not take my flight. No Metal One has the strength to lead one![/i]

He certainly wouldn’t after many more of these. He fumbled, trying to break the Flightmaster’s grip, but it was amazingly strong. Far stronger than anything he’d seen from Geir or Einar. Even as he smashed at it with his mind, it remained as firm as ever. If anything, it squeezed him tighter, almost breaking through his armor with its intense grip.

He needed a different idea. Now.

None of the other dragons would help him, and even if they were willing, he doubted that they’d be able to do anything worthwhile. The milking would have weakened them as much as it had strengthened him, and -

“AGH!”

His turn to scream as a stalagmite broke beneath him, the armor breaking in the back. Nothing impaled him - the stalagmite had broken too much for that - but it was too close for comfort.

Wait...milking...weakening…

It was his only chance. Hoping that the Flightmaster was too distracted to protect his mind, Zephyr reached out. He touched on the burning rage in the blue dragon’s head, felt around for what he needed. Something else recognized him, and the other dragon started reaching for him -

Too late. He found the pleasure center of the brain, and SQUEEZED!

The grip on his ankle disappeared as the Flightmaster screamed in pleasure. Zephyr managed to grab a stalactite on his way towards the wall, and fell to the floor as gravity finally caught up with him again.

He never stopped squeezing, though, sending pulse after pulse of pleasure through the other dragon’s body. Even as he felt the Flightmaster try and reach out to him, he mercilessly squeezed tighter, clenching down so hard on the dragon’s brain that a calmer him would have been worried about doing permanent damage.

But that part was buried beneath the need to survive.

Crawling out of the rubble, one arm clenched around his middle, Zephyr found the Flightmaster on his back, helplessly humping the air and spewing seed all over the place. He looked like he was almost pissing it out, his body unable to shoot it fast enough in the usual ropes, so it went all over the place in a stream.

Panting in pain and exhaustion, Zephyr stumbled over to the helpless dragon. He relaxed his grip, not much, but just enough to allow the Flightmaster to be conscious of him. The blue turned, and he met the dragon’s gaze.

[i]I...am not...going to stop. I have plans for the galaxy...plans that I need your help for. Please...stop fighting me. I don’t want to hurt you.

You dishonor...the Nightwing flight. Fighting like this is wrong.

Wrong?[/i]

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

[i]You only say that because you lost.

...Maybe.

Will you surrender?

I...don’t have a choice.

Will you challenge me again?

I have to.[/i]

He shook his head a few times. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear...but it was something that he’d expected to hear. If there was one thing that the dragons could reliably do, it was keep their pride to the point of stupidity. They would keep fighting long past where it was a good idea to do so, no matter how much he had won by, if only because he was a human. They wouldn’t follow him, not by choice…

So, he’d have to do what he could.

As he clenched down again, turning the Flightmaster into a writhing, squirming, spurting puddle of pleasure, he turned to Einar.

[i]Bring a set from the locker.

You...are locking up a Flightmaster?

A former Flightmaster…[/i]

He shook his head.

[i]I am the Flightmaster now.[/i]

Zephyr said it in a way that would carry to the various other dragons in the cavern. If there was going to be a time for fights, for anyone else to rebel against him, this would be the time. He was injured, but he had enough control over the Mindgrip, enough power in it, that he could win. He would have no better opportunity.

Instead of rebellion, the dragons that he had conquered spread their wings. At first, he thought they were going to take flight, but then he realized that it was their version of a salute. He turned to face them as they lifted their fists in the air, shouting into his mind.

[i]Flightmaster Zephyr, of the Metal dragon flight! We will follow![/i]

They shouted it again, and again, and he couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t the full leadership of an existing flight he’d hoped for, but it was far better than it could have been.

The Metal dragon flight...he rather liked that.

Einar had already disappeared, heading out to the ship, but Geir hadn’t. The gray dragon looked at him, then down at his restraints, and then up again. The dragon kept his gaze until Zephyr slowly turned away.

[i]I’m not a conqueror. I’m not turning them into slaves…[/i]

None of the dragons said anything to his private thought. He almost wished they did, one way or another.

As he waited, he could already feel that hunger coming back to him. The same hunger he’d felt on the shuttle as he’d idly stroked Einar’s cock, the same hunger that drove him to swallow all that seed from his captured dragons, came to him again with a vengeance. His throat felt dry, and his body felt a great need for their seed. He wanted it, wanted it inside of him, wanted that connection that came with it…

Zephyr panted in his armor, and grunted as one of his ribs reminded him that he wasn’t in great shape. The Flightmaster had done a good bit of damage during the fight, more than anyone else had. He wasn’t in any shape for another orgy.

But stars, he wanted one…

Holding onto the pain to avoid giving into that urge, Zephyr was grateful when Einar came back. He waved the black dragon over, and told him what to do with the equipment, before getting to his feet.

[i]Where are you going?

I’m going to the ship. I need to see how much I’m hurt.

And then?[/i]

Zephyr shook his head. It depended on how long it took him to heal, of course...but with enough support, there was no need to wait.

[i]And then, we leave. We have a universe to change.[/i]

The dragons - the new Metal flight - cheered around him as he broadcast the thought to all of them. They kept cheering as he walked out of the cave and out to the ship, settling into the main cabin. The computer was already working on scanning him, since his suit’s vital sign monitoring was shot, and he leaned back.

[i]Flightmaster Zephyr...I like it.[/i]

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]