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It quickly became evident to the "remastered" Teryx that picking up the life of his host would be more complicated than just going home, poking the brain for memories, and seeing how everything went.

Still, it was only slightly more complicated, and it amused the alien slug greatly to consider how quickly he was able to correct his performance and fit in. As for his host, each new success in socializing, working, and flirting was regarded with the utmost chagrin. Chagrin which found itself oft-expressed in such supportive phrases as, Fuck you, and, I hope medical science pulls you out of my ear and cooks you up like a sausage.

It was at breakfast time, for that latter one. The food comparison was perhaps inevitable.

Nevertheless, despite his earlier boasts, the slug did not force Teryx into a rampant and raunchy sex life right away. He instead became more viscerally aware of the existence of porn, and spent a good deal of time tapping into Teryx's memories of enjoying that. The initial nights of experimenting with it felt eerily innocuous -- again, as if the slug were running a long and occasionally redundant-seeming set of diagnostics to better understand the complexities of Teryx's brain.

This brief period was also among the last times that Teryx would hear the slug adopt that personality-lacking, almost-robotic inner voice that it had originally used more often. The very last time was after a night of viewing a video of a dragon in bondage being surrounded by burly, well-endowed male fire demons -- with the dragon being repeatedly used from both ends by each of them, and then having a demonic spirit cummed into him that caused him to transform into one of them as well.

This is nearly ideal, the inner voice had said in the most unsexy and scientific way imaginable. Optimal arousal is created through struggling for dominance and ultimately being overpowered and divested of strength in order to serve a master or collective. Teryx's arousal is optimal. Teryx's arousal will be repeated endlessly to serve our needs.

From there, the persona of Teryx went on fully and never came off. It was an altered Teryx -- a distorted one whose motives would prove more and more divergent from his host's as time went on -- but in style and attitude it was Teryx through and through. There was no one individual behavior that would ever be able to be pinpointed and called "unlike Teryx." Since he was a switchy, proud person, that moment-by-moment approach to maintaining similarity was pretty easy for the alien to sustain. Not only did he have access to Teryx's memories, he also had the good fortune of his host being a person with a widely varying set of behaviors within a certain overall flavor. That broadness would give him plenty of leeway in which to sculpt the new Teryx gradually as the days went by.

Through it all, the host remained his unwilling puppet, even if the sheer fact of the situation was a fetishistic turn-on. They bickered relentlessly -- with the host still often mocking and scorning his captor, and with the slug returning fire with the words and actions that Teryx's body would perform on its command.

Sometimes, although perhaps only by accident, they sounded a lot like regular old flatmates. The slug would be reflecting on some oddity of anthro society and how strange it seemed that people worked certain ways -- always commenting on it snidely as Teryx himself might -- and the host would play devil's advocate just to be contrary even if he secretly agreed.

It was during one of these more innocuous, more philosophical moments, that their relationship took an abrupt and vicious shift -- like that of two wrestling men locked in a milder-mannered grapple, before one suddenly resumed his plan to go for the throat of the other.

It dealt, in fact, with how the alien might address himself within Teryx's head, and how he might expect for his host to address him back.

This is how their conversation went, while "Teryx" sat on his sofa after just having turned off a documentary about the history of modern navies.

My last name is Commodore, the intruder thought. My memories tell me that is also a military rank.

From navies, yes, grumped his host.

Very well, then, just think of me as the Commodore. Your Commodore.

"The Commodore" isn't a name.

Then neither is your surname.

The original Teryx considered this and decided that arguing this specific issue was pointless. Touché. Fine, you're the Commodore. Enjoy sounding like a pompous dick all the time.

Isn't that exactly how I like it?

The Commodore manipulated Teryx's original consciousness to make him powerfully aware of the meaty erection that was rising again. So sensitive, so warm, so hard...

Now, you will respect your Commodore.

I never said anything about--

Stand at attention!

Immediately, Teryx's body did so, moving like the fleshy marionette it was while the Commodore made the host more broadly aware of its other sensations. Erection just sticking out toward his big-screen TV.

Perfect, opined the Commodore. Nice and obedient.

Like hell.

Hm, perhaps you need a lesson in humility, then. I think standing here for hours feeling your legs and stamina get exhausted will do nicely. While I play with my cock and tease more of these delectable pleasure-chemicals.

You're hardly being reasonable about this.

At this the Commodore stopped feigning any kind of niceness.

I have no cause to be reasonable. You are my pawn. I will tell you every move to make and every experience to have. Every flicker of sensation you feel will be at my discretion. If you resist, I will punish you, and if you persist, I will break you. Whether you submit willingly or otherwise, I will make you moan and praise me as your superior officer, and you will have no thoughts or desires without my authorization. I will train you to feel only lust for my commands. Not that that's too far off, hmm?

The original Teryx grimaced while his shaft throbbed. So. Fucking. Hard. It was embarrassing, even more so as his hand moved unbidden over his shaft, stroking and teasing...

Attentive, erect, proud... you will be sculpted into my perfect chess piece. Or shall I practice saying it as you some more? "Heh, this is gonna be great. Let's go find some ass and have some fun with it." Does the thought excite you? Knowing you'll have no choice in the matter, becoming the slut you always wished someone would just tell you to become?

Ghrrr... stop iiiitt!!

Touched a nerve, did I? Well don't worry, there are plenty more nerves left to explore!

Teryx's legs locked tightly upright, together at the knees. In an otherwise rigid, military posture he jerked himself with both hands, both unable to thrust by conscious will and not feeling his sluggy headmate do it for him. Teryx felt how much he longed to thrust, how he longed to lean forward and bend and grasp and bite. He longed to hold some cute submissive and fuck them, making his body rut and dance.

Instead he got mechanical, repetitive stroking. Frustrating in its mediocrity, disturbing in its relentlessness. The Commodore was silent in their shared thinking space, seeming to be attentively observing the original's own thought patterns to see how this rising tension would affect him.

If only you had another person here to help you. Then you could stand at attention for me and still have a much nicer and fuller experience.

I'll never... ghhck...

Hah, you'll never what? Never keep quiet while I seduce someone with this fine body of yours? I have had time to comb through your memories. I already know quite well that more of your delicious chemicals will be produced if an encounter is long, thorough, sensual, and emotional. I am not some inelegant, uncultured thing.

You were the day I found you, c-creep...

Fortunately, you taught me all I need to know about being you, and I am such a fast learner. Just think, all your life's experiences are coming together to make your ideal master now, all coaxed and gathered together in my little, tiny, insignificant little body. My little body which your much stronger one will protect. No, not just protect, but love and nourish. I will do even more than make you submit. I will make you love me, my host. You will have no other choice. You will align with me completely.

No... stop...

_Mm, weakening, I see. Reviewing my stash of lewds was rather helpful and enlightening. _

No fucking way... I'll never...

You will. Ever. Forever you will want me inside you. You will crave to be my host with all of your being, as your flesh already does.

The strokings on Teryx's erect shaft quickened. His grip was so strong, so sensual, despite the lack of other motion. He felt some irony in this situation, seeing as his own body was so arousing to him, yet normally so predictable. His strong hands under someone else's control -- patterned after him but still just different enough, as if all of his suave inner darkness had been amplified and given a clear, hedonistic objective...

Feed me, Teryx. Secrete the sweet juices of your pleasure... let me drink of them and grow stronger. That , is an order.

No... no no no, growled the host. He tried to think angry thoughts, tried to think of anything other than that hand teasing his cock while the voice teased his mind. Each imagining quickly became twisted by the Commodore's influence: a visualization of stomping slugs to death transformed itself into obediently spreading his toes around one, allowing it to crawl all the way up his body and into his ear like a willing slave. Likewise, bonerkill imagery of ugly or uncomfortable people and places quickly warped itself to become more arousing through any means necessary: species and builds adjusted to sneak into hitting his preferences, places he would never think of having sex in becoming suddenly populated by dozens of nude and erect copies of himself, all kissing and licking and fucking each other while moaning about how good it felt to "salute the Commodore" with their bodies.

The damned slug was tainting even his ability to imagine, for they were one. They truly were one now, yes, a perfect symbiosis of boisterous dragon and hidden master.

No... said Teryx, surprisingly firmly for how deeply his mind was being twisted. I don't accept it. This pleasure isn't mine. I won't help you make me... hhh... no! Stop it! Don't force it, it...

The orgasm was right there. It seemed it was coming whether Teryx liked it or not. That same stroking continued, edging nearer and nearer, forcing more excitement through every nerve...

Then all sensation faded from his shaft. It might as well have been completely numb. The muscles in Teryx's groin contracted awkwardly, undergoing a few dry spasms that the host's consciousness could barely even feel.

"Mmm, that's interesting, yes... so that's how "edging" properly works..."

_Oh no, no you don't!! _

"Heh. Noisy fool..."

The original Teryx felt the sensations returning -- somewhat. Enough that he felt the urgency to cum that he usually associated with those last few seconds before the point of no return. The hand kept massaging; his mind kept filling with that need to finish.

Again the sensation dulled. Again the dry contractions hit.

This time, the dragon's brain was not muffled from experiencing the near-peaking pleasure. Instead he continued to feel the need, mixed with thought-smashing throbs of bliss.

Then the sensation dulled more fully... and then it repeated again.

"More," coaxed the Commodore. "More, my pawn."

Stop it, you fuck...

"I can do this all day. Can you?"

For the first time, it hit Teryx how unsure he was regarding whether he could. Yeah, of course I can! I-I've edged plenty of times before!

"Ahh, but now it's going to be so much more... compelling."

Teryx's original consciousness lost all sensation. For a few moments, his body groaned without his being able to hear or understand it. Then, in a flash, he felt a rush of pleasure, followed by the anguish of knowing the peak had again been denied. Then, it happened again. And again. And again. An ocean tide of bliss and frustration, until the two swirled together like a poison to the mind.

Damn you!

"Mm, it's too delicious... I just might have to do this all day, until your body is truly worn out. Then I can simply retreat into my own thoughts and leave you to deal with the fatigue."

You'll kill us if you're not careful...

"We aren't going to die from some edging. Are you really that much of a baby? A dragon pup that much in need of your Commodore's guidance?"

Ghrhrr...arrgh!!

Throb, throb, throb. It was never ending. Somehow, his hands were not tiring enough to make stroking less effective. Neither were his locked-in-attention legs.

"Submit, my host," the dragon murmured. "Submit properly."

I won't!

"Then we will go for hours. Days. I will hurt you. I will frustrate you. But if you will only give in, I will make you mine forever and share all of your joy."

Another near-climax approached and missed. Teryx's thoughts swam with confusion and an increasing desire for any kind of ending or closure. These constant waves of unsatisfying intensity were maddening.

I can't give in, insisted Teryx.

"You absolutely can. Make that posture of attention genuine, and I'll let you cum. I'll let you cum so hard, shooting until your last thoughts have gone right out through your cock. Then you can cling to me and enjoy me."

The dragon did something which was hard -- very hard considering his current predicament.

Go fuck yourself, he said.

The Commodore cut off all sensation to Teryx's mind again, save for the sound of his words, which he spoke internally for the moment. Very well. We'll go for a while longer. If you still feel this way by bedtime, then I suppose I'll just have to enjoy this nice climax of yours on your behalf.

The original Teryx made no reply. He bunkered down and prepared for a long, soul-eroding struggle. A struggle in which he already did not think his outcome was likely to be a positive one.

Why do you resist, asked the Commodore, when you secretly enjoy my control this much?

You already know the answer.

Because you're stubborn. Because some of the pleasure for you is in the struggle. You are so hedonistic... even in your self-preservation, you seek pleasure wherever you can.

So what if I do? You want to be my 'Commodore,' you're going to earn it, bitch.

Consider it a challenge accepted. I hope you're ready to suffer.

I'll either end up winning, pleasured, or unable to think at all.

Yes, and those outcomes are all about equally desirable to you.

Shut up.

Feed me.

Another rush of near-orgasmic pleasure slammed into the host's mind. This time, the dragon's toes curled, a response which the Commodore allowed for the sake of focusing the sensations. The precum was leaking rapidly, the shaft pulsating and pulsating...

Eat all you like... you're still just a bully.

Heh, and you will provide me with my lunch for many years to come. Say it.

Go to hell. I'm saying it. That's what you want to hear, right?

So it continued between them, for hours and hours, the sun passing over and then settling again toward the horizon.

* * *

As tough as the original Teryx had wanted to be about it, the Commodore proved equally relentless in his pursuit of the rain dragon's submission.

You know you love it, the inner voice would always assure him as it once again forced him to experience his body being moved in puppet-like fashion.

Go to hell, would come the reply once again -- ineffectual yet stubborn.

What would not come was the host's ejaculation, which the Commodore had sustained his cruel interest in edging up endlessly until Teryx would submit.

At least, it seemed endless. Occasionally, due to the Commodore's neurochemical meddling, the original Teryx would lose time, being fully unconscious and unaware of himself even in a sensorily deprived sense, much as he had been for a time on the day he left the beach house to return to the city.

On one specific occasion, the original Teryx returned to consciousness and could've sworn that he felt less pent up than before... but it was the very next day of the week, and his memory of the date proved too fuzzy to be sure whether the Commodore hadn't simply kept him blacked out for a week and allowed himself to enjoy a big wet climax in the meantime.

When he accused the slug of doing so, the sole cryptic reply was, "The science of your body is a delicious one," followed by another dizzying blackout that lasted for a few more hours.

Nevertheless, it was only a blip in the Commodore's overall plan of torturing Teryx with edging, and that plan came to a head during one afternoon a few weeks-ish -- the host could never be sure -- after his return to the city.

On this afternoon, "Teryx" was able to leave his workplace early and beat the evening rush -- but rather than going home, he chose this time as a good opportunity to board an open-topped double-decker bus bound for one of the sparser areas of the city, with various stops along the way. He had no particular business there at three in the afternoon, but he was determined to go there.

What are you doing now? the host wondered as his body cozied itself into one of the upper deck's seats, just a few rows in from the stairs.

Something naughty~ came the reply.

Teryx's right hand moved to the front of his pants.

Zip.

Oh hell no.

Teryx's warm, semi-flaccid shaft touched the skin of his right hand. The indecisive flesh was already heating up from the situation and the exposure. He felt so blue-balled, and this was just a perfect chance -- or so his instincts told him -- to finally let out all of that seed. So much wind blowing past him, making his mane buffet this way and that as the bus moved along. City all around him... but he was a dragon. A big, tough dragon proud of his malehood, ready to show it off, ready to let that seed go everywhere...

Those are feral instincts, you twat, critiqued the host.

I think of them as 'useful' instincts, countered the Commodore as the erection grew increasingly randy and decisive.

I don't know if you've noticed, but this city is not kind to public masturbators!

Isn't that a pity? If only this body would stop being so naughty in resisting me, then maybe I would feel inclined to stop it from being naughty right now.

You sick, sick.

You. Gave me this idea. "Teryx." There is no "sickness" in my mind that isn't already there in that lusty, burning pit of your fantasies. A pit which I've explored very well these weeks we've been together.

The Commodore wasn't wrong. It felt good. It felt wonderful. It felt defiant and masculine and dominant and subversive all at once. He was being such a bad boy, so uppity against the rules, struggling against the shackles that were trying to stop him from showing off his perfect, beautiful body...

It was enough to make him teeter on the brink within moments. Edging as an activity was hardly required. He was at the edge. He was the edge. His body was so ready to blow its load right onto the back of that seat in lewd, publicly irresponsible ways, and it was going to be massive from how pent-up he was. Glorious, thick dragonseed, marking it with not a care in the world!

Tch... I'm not, I'm not kidding. Stop. You don't know what you're--

I know. I know entirely better than you realize. It's risky, but it's calculated. Consider: this is an off hour. You are on a large bus. As you may notice as I look around with our beautiful head, there are very few passengers up here right now. All seven... eight of them, all are distracted with mobile devices. The bus itself is loud, and rumbly enough to cover up a few small moans as we stroke, stroke, stroke...

The hand moved against the host's will, sending mind-battering waves of pleasure through him. Every nerve in his body was saying "Cum!" except the ones that mattered for starting the action.

Listen creep, if you keep at this long enough they will see us. Or they will see... someone will see as they get on, someone will see from the sides in one of the buildings.

As for the ones in the buildings, just let them. It's a nice bonus for them -- not like they'll be able to tell anyone fast enough.

You really want to put me in jail? You think that's fun?

Not at all, dear Teryx. I want you to say the words. The words you know I want to hear. I'll even let you say it with your mouth if you're a good little soldier and obey.

It was delirium-inducing. The bus had reached a stop. People were getting on. Quite a few from the sound of it... this was still a relatively busy part of town. If some came up here... if he came while they were coming up here...!

Put it in our pants. This isn't right.

Like you care about what's right.

Dammit, Commodore!

Closer, but still not right. The edging hand worked steadily on the shaft now to emphasize the closeness. Globby pre sputtered intermittently from the tip, adding a warm moisture to the experience.

"Say it," murmured "Teryx," too softly for anyone else on the bus to hear.

I won't...

"You and I both know that isn't up for debate any longer."

Damn you, just let me...

"Say it and I will."

Fuck off, fuck off!...

How Teryx wished that some combination of "fuck" and "off" could happen right now. The throbs were unbearable. The pressure an immaculate agony as he knew just how close he was. How few words he was from getting to feel relief, solace, joy...

"Feel that? Feel how much your body wants it?"

S-stop it... no more! Take us home.

"Tell me who you you take orders from."

No one but myself.

"Exactly."

Teryx's levels of erection and sexual pleasure -- piqued-up through they already were -- experienced a sudden spike in their intensity. The veins in the thing seemed like they were trying to force water through a closed dam. His plumbing felt like it might push the seed out without a single further impulse from his nerves, as if his cock were developing a mind of its own to spite the Commodore's plans. That, however, was wishful thinking.

Yes, no one b-but my...

The original consciousness fuzzed. Everything was strange. He again felt how close he was to letting loose his seed, but he knew in a more detached way this time that he couldn't. He couldn't because the slug, who was now for all practical purposes him, forbade it. He had no one to report to but himself. Teryx Commodore.

It bulged. It throbbed. His balls tightened. He was right there, just a kiss of submission away from blowing that load his oppressor had been stewing up inside of him all these days.

Y...yes.

"Say it all, 'soldier.'"

Y-yes, Commodore...ore...aahhh...

Teryx's original consciousness, and the seat-back in front of him turned milky white and gooey. Ropes of cum and ropes of mental bondage, both casting forth and coating their targets. He couldn't think anything, couldn't feel much... only feel those waves of pleasure washing past him, as if they were happening to someone else, but someone very close to where he was located. An orgasm so close by that he was still part of it, even if it wasn't his to call his own.

"'Yes, Commodore' is right. Say it again."

Yes, Commodore! His experience of the pleasure grew.

"Again!"

"Yes, Commodore!!" he physically gasped -- before instantly losing control of his mouth again.

The spent cock felt hot in his hand, moist cum drooling into the gaps between his fingers as he held it. "Ahhh, that's good, always liked having a slut tell me he understands his place."

Teryx's original consciousness, swept up in its moment of cracked-up weakness, agreed. Sluts such as he was currently showing himself to be deserved to be reminded of their place in the world... underneath the strong, dominant hand of T... Ter...

The Commodore.

Just "the Commodore" would do. It seemed to make perfect sense as the host spiralled into unconsciousness once again, leaving the new Teryx in undisputed control for the time being.

Half a minute later, a lion businessman wandered past to find Teryx bagging up some used sanitizing wipes and preparing them neatly for disposal. They looked quite... wet, in a way which made the lion's eyes go wide.

"Hhhluugck!" Teryx flamboyantly retched while grasping his own throat and sticking out his tongue. He then covered his mouth with one of the wipes and spat into it, before adding it to the rest and glancing apologetically at the lion. "Ah, excuse me."

The lion dared to ask, "Are you quite all right?" He tried to keep a polite tone, but the underlying suspicions remained obvious.

"Forgive me, this cold has gone straight to my chest."

"Oh, bless you!" The lion didn't sound as if he quite believed it, but continued following the social-pleasantries script regardless.

Teryx nodded, and the bus shuddered and began to roll forward again, prompting the lion to grab the back of Teryx's seat to steady his balance.

"Forgive me," said the lion, his voice full of weariness. His eyes shifted a bit, while Teryx flicked one hand nonchalantly along his own neck and played it cool.

"No worries. Have a good ride. I love your mane!" the rain dragon said the last bit in a sociable and encouraging voice that just managed to fall short of sounding weird.

The lion was a middle-aged gentleman who indeed had a large and flowing brown mane, and the compliment from another mane-bearer bore more genuine meaning for him than it might've from someone else. Under the circumstances, he chose to nod silently and make his way to a seat further toward the front, before silently dabbing himself on the forehead with a handkerchief.

With the situation resolved, "Teryx" grinned; social protocol was certainly its own brand of mind control.

Yawning, he settled back into enjoying his afterglow. This bulge in his pants was still quite large and inspirational, feeling all warm and invigorating as the bus rolled along. He wondered if the old gent had liked what he saw -- and what his politeness had wished he had not seen.

Still, an older lion like that might not be Teryx's type... but that returned him to the important question of who might be.

It seemed high time to get back into the dating scene. Somewhere random and anonymous would do nicely. He decided to get off at whatever the next stop was, in order to scope out additional people to get off with. If he could find people to do to him just what those videos had been showing -- minus the possession part, as the Commodore himself had that nicely covered -- then the harvesting of Teryx's chemicals could be optimized even better.

As for the host, he was blacking out again -- though not because the Commodore was forcing it this time. The original Teryx was simply that overwhelmed, and his mind was a mess that would take time to sort itself out after the blow dealt to it by that orgasm.

As far as the Commodore was concerned, all seemed to be going nicely according to plan.

* * *

A small restaurant with both interior and outdoor seating, and an adjoining bar. Lots of background chatter. The waning evening traffic was moving along the street outside. The sight of a passing bus made "Teryx" smile.

A red fox wearing a black uniform and a pristine white waiter's apron approached the rain dragon's booth. "Greetings! My name is Roy, and I'll be your host for the evening. What may I get you to drink?"

While holding the menu dismissively shut beneath one blue hand, Teryx asked, "What do you have in 'strong yet delicious'?"

The waiter smiled professionally, but the smile twitched in exactly that put-off way the Commodore had been hoping to see. "The liquor menu is--"

The dragon flicked his tongue and gazed up severely at the waiter. "Bring me the one with the highest alcohol content that doesn't taste like your bartender mixed it in the gents'."

The waiter stared, with the poker-faced calm of someone doomed to fantasize about murdering everyone later that evening. "Any preference on flavor?"

"Lime," he said. "It must contain lime."

Teryx laughed to himself as the waiter went away. My host for the evening, he thought to his inner "partner." We both know that's not true.

Hah. Hah. The original Teryx had recovered a little from his earlier ordeal, and was wasting no time reestablishing himself in a sarcastic and aversive attitude once more.

The Commodore, by contrast, seemed to be more interested than usual in appealing to Teryx's sense of honesty and dishonesty: You know you often wish you could be that dismissive of people.

The original Teryx laughed dismissively inside their head. That was much worse than anything I would ever--

Don't kid yourself.

Who's kidding? Go on, "Teryx."

Oh, rest assured, I will~

Their conversation died down again as the Commodore took in the scene. So many people. Singles, couples... families, in a few cases. The venue certainly catered to the younger and less attached adults, but there was a good deal of variety.

Looks like opportunity, don't you think? said the Commodore.

The host wasn't buying it. Why're you so chummy all of a sudden?

Don't you ever get lonely in there? It's not as if I give you much freedom.

What, are you lonely now?

No, because I'll be satisfying the social needs of my host's brain quite thoroughly tonight. A grin spread across his face. "You," however, might not be feeling much of it. It depends on how willing you are to take your Commodore's commands.

I'll take your commands. I won't be friendly about it.

Really, that's how it's going to be? Did all of that breaking teach you nothing?

The host's original consciousness took longer than usual to respond. Then, with sass dripping from his words, he replied, Yes, Commodore. I learned nothing. I am insubordinate.

A jolt of chemicals rushed through the dragon's brain, and the original Teryx stopped experiencing anything at all.

"Idiot," grumbled the Commodore, while clenching one fist against the menu. "I just had to find someone who gets off on being abused like this."

The swelling heat in his groin was hard to ignore. It had arrived suddenly, during that brief bit of voice he had given to his host's desires. It wasn't unpleasant by any means -- merely too soon. The sex would come a bit later in his schedule for this evening.

Teryx sat fully upright, exhaled, and then leaned back against the booth. Fine, fine, the Commodore thought to the silence inside his head. Have it your way, my dear flatmate. I can keep up training you far longer than you can keep up resisting.

A few minutes later, the fox returned with a sullenly flat expression and a tall glass of something that smelled like vodka, lime, and pineapples.

"Well done," said Teryx, his patronizing tone subtler than he had originally planned. "Come back in two minutes. I'll have some other errand for you by then."

"Yes sir," said the fox wearily, before wandering off to the next table.

Teryx smiled at the words. He wished his host's mind had been awake to take note of them -- but not enough to the trouble of waking him back up.

For now, he would turn his attention to the matter at hand. After sniffing at the strange concoction a couple of times, he leaned in close and gave it a few tentative licks. Tangy. Sweet. Also vodka. Seriously, the vodka was a bit much, still managing to overpower the other elements of the drink's flavor.

Still, it would do for what the Commodore wanted.

"Bottoms up, 'Teryx,'" he said. He lifted his glass in a toast to no one visible -- then downed half of it in a single long pour down his maw.

His immediate thought was once again that the people of this planet were stupid. The tell-tale burn of a poison the body wasn't supposed to be ingesting. A foreign substance that would slip right past the blood-brain barrier like an infiltrating mind-parasite, altering and distorting whoever used it.

So lame, too. It wasn't even alive. But it was chemicals -- interesting chemicals -- and the Commodore wanted to study and manipulate their effects upon his host's neurology. Besides, it was fashionable to be a little drunk when seeking a quick sexual hookup.

Or hookups.

He laughed, slurped a dribble off the side of his face, and then downed the remainder with no remorse.

"Don't worry Tery," he quietly cooed. "There's more where that came from~"

* * *

The original Teryx awoke to a deep alcoholic buzz and the taste of peach flesh on his tongue. Questions immediately followed: where had he gotten the peach? Why was he standing in an lantern-lit alleyway in one of the less savory parts of town? And, most importantly: what the hell was the Commodore making him do now?

His eyes glanced down demonstratively, without a word from the puppeteer controlling him. Teryx saw the curved surface of the peach. More precisely, he was staring at the place where two curves angled inward to create a crack along the fruit's surface. Just the smallest nibble had been taken out of the crack -- courtesy of his long, fanged snout -- and he was now licking repeatedly into it, lapping at the taste... slowly, and almost...

Seductively.

Teryx's eyes then rose to glance at an orca who was leaning casually against the wall outside the nearest building. The guy was standing directly under one of the few remaining lit lanterns in the alleyway, the light casting a pale glow upon his massive form. He was tall and thickly built, with arms like tree trunks -- not altogether a surprise, considering his species.

His pale-green tank top did very little to conceal the bulk of his body. Dark shadows fell upon the crevices of his muscles, most notably around his chest and abs, which pushed right through the fabric. The orca had a bit of a muscle-gut which protruded proudly, with grooves adorning it that ensured his strength would be impossible to miss. The cetacean had his arms folded as he leaned against the brick wall, carefully surveying Teryx as the dragon held onto the fruit and kept slurping along it.

Below the tank top, the guy seemed to be wearing... oh, nothing. A thing which cetaceans could often get away with in extremely casual settings, owing to their internal genitalia.

Within his head, the original Teryx played back a memory of himself snorting in derision.

Wait, he could do that?

Clever use of what little freedom I allow you, soldier, the Commodore piped in.

Always knew I could, the original Teryx lied. He felt so spinny and happy, despite his predicament, not that he planned to show it.

So, what do you think of him? He's our latest chosen friend for the evening.

The original did the mental equivalent of shrugging. Guy totally chose that outfit to make his beef stand out.

Well, it certainly worked. Teryx likes what he sees.

Yeah, yeah -- Teryx likes.

Judging by body language, the orca liked Teryx too. How long had the big guy been watching from over there anyway? How long had this fruity courtship been going on?

Well, it mattered not.

"Teryx" grinned and continued licking more vigorously at the crack of the fruit, while moving slowly toward the lantern for better illumination upon his own sexy form. Considering how surprisingly well-kept the back alley was -- with most of the filth being kept near the dumpsters at the far end of it -- it seemed almost out of place that this was the only working lantern.

Heh. Management must be too stingy to replace the burned-out lightbulbs, the original observed.

Either that, or the men around here like it dark and make sure it stays that way.

You been here before while I was out?

Can't you guess?

The original didn't particularly care to. More than anything, he was finding himself swept up in the eroticism of the moment... although in an unusually apathetic fashion. Maybe it was the booze; maybe it was the prolonged lack of control. Either way, he just felt like he was watching it all like a fly on the wall.

From that standpoint, however, a few things that he might normally resist were a little easier to appreciate or even admire. He noticed how well the Commodore had set up this counter to make good use of the low lighting... smug bastard, doing exactly what Teryx himself would've done if he had ever decided to come to a dark alley looking for fun. The poses the slug was making his body strike, leaning him right up against that lamppost and even giving it some suggestive rubs while he kept on slurping at that piece of food...

He didn't want to admit it -- and he didn't admit it verbally -- but the Commodore was doing a pretty solid job of putting the usual Teryx moves on this guy. He had already caught the eye of the orca -- and more -- so it likely wouldn't take too much effort to really land him hook, line, and sinker...

The "and more" took the form of a shadowy, tapered pink thing which had emerged from the guy's crotch and begun to wave slightly from side to side.

Prehensile showoff, muttered the host.

You'd do it if you had it.

Yes.

Teryx approached. They exchanged some words that the host almost didn't want to listen to. Seductive things -- words of familiarity. Calling the orca "his big guy" and all of that. As if they were in a relationship, except it was obvious they weren't. This was a fling, fueled by no more than one or two prior meetings, and the orca was eating it up.

"You ready to do what you promised?" the orca inquired. His voice was surprisingly high, a soft tenor, pleasantly at odds with his huge and oily body.

"You know it," said the dragon.

The orca beckoned him onward into the dark of the alley. This was risky, which made it that much more erotic, but it wasn't nearly as risky as other things the Commodore had already put him through.

Hugging. Groping. Hands moving over groins and rears. Examination of the goods. The orca taking the peach from him and just devouring most of the rest of it before hurling the core into the rubbish.

"If you're hungry, you ought to get started," said the orca.

Then there was the feeling of Teryx lowering himself, his nose going right up against one of the orca's large and hunky glutes. Then there was a long, slow licking, musky and a bit salty... not like sweat, but like seawater. They guy must work at the docks, or else have gone for a swim earlier today in brine.

It was like running his tongue over a salt lick. Not entirely pleasant. Nevertheless, "Teryx" kept wooing him: "Mmm, just as tasty of a catch as I imagined."

"Make a fish joke and I'll fucking sit on you."

"Teryx" blinked. "Noted. But what if I were into being sat on?"

The orca glared back at him. "You're not."

"Mmm, no fun. Guess I'll have to make it fun then."

The host finally realized through his drunken fog what this all meant. Wait, am I... seriously!?

Bottoms up, Teryx, said the Commodore in echo of his earlier taunt. Time for a nice long taste.

Oh come on, I would never -- for THIS guy!?

You find him attractive.

I don't even know where his ass has been!

As Teryx would, I did my research first.

Lick, lick, lick. The dragon's tongue made its way inward. He played around the guy's pucker, which was just as salty as everywhere else but deliberately and thoroughly clean apart from that fact. The orca let out a quiet, deep sound reminiscent of his feral kin -- one which would perhaps have carried better in the seawater he so favored.

The thicker base of the man's shaft was emerging. Teryx was on his hands and knees, but managed to lift one hand long enough to stroke over it and confirm how much the orca was enjoying himself.

"Mmh, good dragon... you keep that up and I'll give you what you wanted too."

"Mmm, thank you sir," murmured "Teryx."

Arousal was gradually -- but only slowly -- rising throughout the dragon's body and the Commodore seemed more interested in how his host was reacting, rather than in the situation itself. _Hmm, your brain is interesting when it's drunk. You must feel more detached than usual right now?

It's like watching a movie. A movie of me licking some guy's ass.

A movie you like.

S-shut up. Ugh, it's not even fair, it feels like it's happening to someone else.

No responsibilities, no worries, just being along for the ride... alcohol does have that effect on you people, I hear.

The original Teryx played back a memory of himself snorting derisively. Yeah, it must ONLY be the alcohol. Clearly.

The tongue moved down, succulently tasting and cleaning the taint, the balls... it worked all over them, eliciting groans from the guy getting serviced.

The original Teryx swore. Why did it have to be really nice, really well-formed balls. They're so good for licking.

I did not pick poorly, confided the Commodore. This vessel is equipped with a keen sense of dick, and its accessories._

Well, there's something we can agree upon.

From there it was a musky, delicious tour up the base of the man's cock, and then around the shaft. Salt, oil... the faint taste of dried pre. Pent up, surely. Someone who needed a nice dragon to take care of him. A long tongue could do so much good for the world.

You have a pretty high opinion of your ability to give a blowjob, observed the Commodore.

Host Teryx had other things on his mind: I'm just surprised he's letting me move from his tailhole to his dick. He's not prissy about it at all.

Low standards, perhaps. Ahh, but, he does so enjoy our tongue around him. Just look how much those abs are flexing.

He's got a bit of a gut.

He does. And listen to that breath, so panty.

I think he's exaggerating.

The Commodore took a moment to consider that. Yes, I concur. It can't feel that good yet, as drunk as he is.

He's hard though. Mmmmh...

Yes, he is. Hard and tasty, happy to participate in being dominated by chemical influences outside his control. He would be a good vessel too.

Lot uglier than me though.

The Commodore sneered. Again, no argument there.

Well, well. I think he's gonna...

Ahh, so that's what it feels like. Your memories of sucking big orca cock were sketchy.

Sheesh, how pent up was he? Didn't last as long as I thought.

Cetaceans, said the Commodore with a gentle derision. Still, it feels good getting petted on your head like a pup, doesn't it?

Host Teryx mentally shrugged. Guilty pleasures for guilty people. I don't know this guy. He can think what he wants.

Yes, he can. Good. Perhaps you are learning at last.

Eh, ask me again when we're not drunk. I'll be honest, I don't even feel good right now.

...Yes, I did notice that we are not particularly hard.

Just isn't that exciting being this fogged up. I dunno. It's a lot more fun when...

Yes?

Ahh fuck you. I'm not telling.

The Commodore paused while swallowing the load and putting on a smile for the big man. You know, you really make this needlessly difficult.

That's just what I do.

Fair enough. This is just what I do.

Original Teryx's awareness shut down like a freshly unplugged TV set.

* * *

The next thing the host knew, a pair of heavy, warm, leathery-padded hands were pressing down hard on Teryx's upper back. A hot, lazily-hard erection was grinding along the right cheek of his rear. He was on a bed with an old, creaky mattress, in what seemed like a lower-class studio apartment. The whole place smelled of sweat and musk.

"Get all the way down, fancy boy~" said a deep-voiced kodiak bear from behind him. Shaggy and thickly built... a bit rotund, yet bara enough to be a nice view for his sub.

Teryx's tail was already up, but for some reason he was in the middle of struggling playfully against the bear's advances.

"Why doncha make me, big man~?" Teryx lilted at the big ursine. Then he craned his neck sassily upward and turned it, as if waiting for something.

One of the big paws swatted him hard. A jolt of alcohol-dulled pain rushed through him.

"Smarts, doesn't it?" said the bear. His dick was approaching the granite-like consistency the Commodore wanted.

"Mmmh, we both know I'm smarter than you... I just wanted to know if you're stronger~"

"The hell did you say, bitch?"

Wham, wham -- SLAP! Ahhh it felt so... well, it wasn't doing much for Teryx, all things considered. There was still just enough alcohol in his system for the slight pain to feel like almost nothing at all. A pity, this wasn't going to be much of an insightful experimentation time after all.

"Okay, okay," said Teryx meekly. "You're stronger."

"And smarter."

"And..." the dragon paused and pulled away from the bear suddenly. Then Teryx started cracking up, laughing riotously. It was so sudden that the bear lost his grip, and the dragon pulled away. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't, I just can't pretend you're smarter than I am. You've found my limit, you inferior meatbag!"

"The hell is this!?" He flexed his entire upper body menacingly and grunted. "You want more, is that it?"

"Ah, no, actually. I want no more from you. You're unworthy of my time."

The bear sounded livid. "Uh-huh, then why are you wasting mine?"

Then the dragon grinned, and suddenly dropped into full prostration with his tail held vertical for the bear.

"I just like you better when you're angry," Teryx lied.

"Hhghh, you're lucky I get off on this shit, now get that face into the carpet and show me that tailhole of yours."

"I need it rough," Teryx reminded him. "Don't you dare stop~"

The kodiak was at this point fixated enough on getting his dick into something that he didn't repeat the question of intelligence again.

Simpleton, the Commodore commented. Ahh, but he's so nicely hung. My ass likes it.

Yes, my ass does like it, the original Teryx commented, his tone deadpan.

"C'mon, bitch, put your back into it!" A heavy slap stung the right side of Teryx's butt.

Heh. Bottoms up, Teryx, said the Commodore again as he arched Teryx's body for the bear.

Yeah, that wasn't funny the second time, and isn't it funny nooooowhFUCK!!

The original Teryx was suddenly shoved deeper into awareness of his body, becoming rawly aware of the big guy's hands on him and that thick, pre-leaking cock in his ass.

Feel _ it, my inferior predecessor,_ commanded the Commodore.

Ugh... nhh, at least let me control groaning!

No.

But you're doing it wrong! You're "mmm"ing for him when he's an ass who doesn't even care about us.

You misunderstand. I'm not going to keep doing everything you do for no reason. I will use you for my purposes. Or was that not clear?

Teryx's dick was now, for the first time in this encounter, entirely as hard as the bear's had become -- and it wasn't because of the questionable partner taking him up there.

Give it to me. Produce your chemicals.

Hhgh...

I can feel it. That thought lurking in your mind. You're beginning to understand.

The bear slammed deeper into him and roared. By the sound of it, he wasn't lasting long.

Understand what, exactly?

That I'm a way better dom for you than that bear could ever be. Simply by existing here inside you, using you and becoming you, I turn you on more than this blockhead ever could.

HGH! That isn't... at all...

Yes it is. Sometime soon I really must figure out how to make you feel how much you're creating for me. Every touch-twitching pulse of pleasure, and every groan of frustration.

Stop porning at me you sick--

Meanwhile, behind him, the bear lost it: "Ruuuouurrrhgh...!!"

Squit, squit, squit.

It wasn't much of a load, actually. Far less than Teryx had been expecting given the bear's arousal. Also since it hadn't taken very long.

He also hadn't expected the bear to collapse into a near-hibernal stupor within seconds of climax. It seemed it had hit him pretty hard.

Awkward, said the Commodore -- and turned Teryx's head downward to admire his own erection as he pulled away and rose to a squat. Cute cock I've got here though~

Original Teryx tried the diplomatic approach: Indeed... Ehm... Now, why don't we stroke it and make you feel even better? Maybe even cumming?

Teryx said some platitudinal "Gotta run~" goodbyes to the bear and cleaned himself and got dressed. He also chuckled aloud periodically, and the chuckles were directed at what the original had asked.

No, said the Commodore as he tucked the draconic bulge into his pants -- forcing the hand to give it a teasing grasp and stroke before putting it finally away.

The original sounded irked. Why not?

You're not consistently obeying me, and you definitely make more of your tasty brain juices if I edge you. You understand -- I'm only an animal like you, after all. We have our needs.

Through the lingering alcoholic fog, a certain agitation re-emerged: Yeah, and you're still a creep with your needs, the original opined.

Ah-huh, and your needs aren't creepy at all.

Hell no. They make perfect sense to me.

Same. Same!

And with that the Commodore navigated his body out the door and off in search of his next fuck.

* * *

Teryx woke up the following day in his own bed, feeling a little dehydrated, but otherwise fine. Not particularly hungover. He was missing some time regarding the rest of what had happened, though. The last thing he could remember was that bear. Ugh, that bear!

More surprisingly, however, he soon realized that he was the original Teryx, in full control of his body! He could feel everything. He could touch his chest in ways he never would've touched it before, such as by making skittering, silly-looking spiderleg movements all over it before poking the exact center of his sternum and saying, "Beep!"

Not that he ever actually would have done that -- well, maybe once to determine whether or not he was still under the control of an alien slug -- but that was acceptable so long as no one was watching.

Still lying in bed, Teryx stared at the ceiling for a moment and mumbled to himself: "Well, 'Commodore,' are you still there, or is this the part where I find out I got into some really weird psychedelic stuff?"

Original Teryx heard and felt no replies. Surreal. He sat up for a moment -- then rose from his bed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was surprised enough at having control of himself again that he didn't notice the person-shaped indentation on his bedspread, and a folded-aside gap in the covers, beside where he had been lying.

Water. He just needed some water.

He filled the glass with ease -- pivoted himself and leaned his rump against the kitchen countertop, tail tucking down and to one side. Then he turned it up and drank.

His control of his body locked up at the moment the water started to trickle downward from the glass. Momentarily frozen like a statue, he could only watch and feel as the cool, refreshing water poured against the lips of his maw, rolled off along one side, and went down his neck into his mane, leaving it sopping. Bits not caught by the mane drizzled down his chest.

Trying to be a real rain dragon today? inquired the Commodore.

The host was surprised to find himself partially in physical control again -- though every attempt to move his body felt increasingly slow and unresponsive, akin to the feeling of slowing down into paralysis in the middle of some strange dream. He growled -- clunkily sat down the glass on the counter, and then flexed an arm up to wring the water from his mane.

He tried to perform the wringing, and felt something else pushing back. His hand kept reopening, the strands of his mane falling from between the fingers. Then he would resolutely close it again, but he couldn't sustain a grip. His hand appeared to be having spasms -- then his neck was slowly pushed backward and upward, a growl rising in his throat as he felt the imperative to lower himself, to let his knees fall from under him...

"Grrraggh!!"

Thunk. He landed in a full kneel, with his hands behind his back and his cock growing hard.

It's not quite a military stance of attention, but I'll take it. At least the smaller dragon understands how to salute his master.

By the time the words finished, the erection was achingly full.

Then the Commodore's voice continued: Ahh, you are so easy to make happy.

Shut it. Why even--

Because it gets THIS reaction, my cozy host. Your body already prepares itself for feeding again.

Uh huh. Last night wasn't enough still? Just how starved are you anyway?

Resource collection is an endless road. Your planet's dominant life forms exemplify this.

Hey, you know I'm more of a switch.

Cute, but unworthy of sympathy.

Host Teryx wouldn't stop: Hey, what happened to my drinking buddy from last night?

Simply an experiment. A failed one I might add. You were far less satisfying for me under that particular influence, which means we shall return to our usual mode of things.

What, I'm your recruit and you're my Commodore?

Functionally, that has never changed, but yes. I will command, and you will fuck. You will dance like my puppet, as you have been doing steadily now.

Well. Okay then.

Ready to submit again then?

Hmm. No. said Teryx once more, with considerably less force and commitment than usual. He sounded and felt almost detached... resigned to his fate if he said no.

The Commodore understood this, but he behaved as he would behave. The refusal would mean lights out for the original once again.

With his cock still stiff and his body fully under the slug's control, Teryx turned to face the kitchen sink and delicately began to dab the water from his mane with a hand towel. For the original consciousness, all sensations dulled as the Commodore's intervention began the process of fading him to black... for some reason, a lot slower than usual. Perhaps deliberately so?

Nevertheless, a few feelings lingered vividly. There was a cool sensation of resting his cock on the edge of the sink -- stainless steel metal against heated flesh.

Then there was a rumbly male growl from behind him... a sound which the Commodore did not allow to take him by surprise, even though he feigned it perfectly in how he controlled Teryx's body.

Nevertheless, the host was baffled. There was another man at home with him? He didn't remember anything about that!

Ah yes, my tiger guest, mused Teryx's controller, before the host could formulate a sentence to inquire about it. The Commodore's words seemed echoey and distorted as the original Teryx found himself temporarily trapped between wakefulness and oblivion. Then, while forcing a playful sneer onto Teryx's face: Such a shame you weren't around when you were sucking on his cock like your life depended on it.

Two large feline arms grabbed around Teryx's chest from behind. A half-hard, prickly shaft rubbed up against the left cheek of his ass as he first got pulled upright, and then got shoved further forward into a hunch over the sink.

"You're up, sleepyhead." The words emerged raspy and hot, the jungle predator pressing up against his prey.

Murring provocatively at the tension, Teryx "tried" to keep toweling off his mane as if nothing were out of the ordinary. This prompted the tiger to grab him by the wrist -- which went suddenly limp, accompanied by a sultry whimper of need. The towel fell to the floor between them, and the tiger firmly stamped on it with one paw before kicking it away against the opposite wall.

Teryx as he glanced back over his shoulder at where the towel had gone, and grinned and winked as if to ask, "I put on a great show for you last night, didn't I? I'm all tired out... just give it to me. Fuck this meek, clumsy, slutty dragon with that thick barbed cock of yours."

The host did not feel any less perplexed, but neither could he escape from feeling the Commodore causing his arousal to rise again. It was an experience like falling asleep while in the middle of getting hard.

The desired cock was stiffening more fully against him, and the tiger's spine was straightening to press his strong torso against Teryx's back. The dragon's face cracked a fanged smile, tongue slipping out to dangle in front of his maw. In reply, the tiger chomped erotically at Teryx's left shoulder, and the dragon pressed back eagerly and submissively against the shaft.

That was the end of the scene for the host-passenger: blacking out among fading sensations of his rear burning with need for tiger cock. Those moments drove home the reality that Commodore really had begun to replace him, meeting new people and making decisions about whom to take home, while enjoying his host's confusion.

By the time he returned to consciousness, he wouldn't remember this event well enough to ask who this tiger even was.

* * *

What remained of that first week back home came and went. Teryx's situation had become strange -- stranger than it already had been before.

Day in and day out, his original consciousness drifted through a clip show of brief experiences, each gated and orchestrated by that alien slug who had nestled in against his brain. One moment he would be aware of being in a convenience store browsing the aisles, checking out mens' backsides and winking at them when they looked his way; the next, he would find himself kneeling in a washroom stall at the back of some run-down bar, suckling seed through a gloryhole from a big, anonymous cock, while both of his blue hands coaxed at his own desperate erection, pre leaking onto his palms.

That latter experience would continue for a time, with the pleasure rising toward a peak which would then be curtailed, controlled, and artfully denied. The pleasant sensations would always shut off when the Commodore dictated. Dry orgasm after dry orgasm rocked Teryx's body, but the bliss never reached the host in a satisfying way. Instead, this rising pleasure would be both chemically and experientially devoured by the Commodore, whose lust for it and skill in achieving increased each day as he copied and then "improved" more and more dimensions of Teryx's personality.

Alcohol didn't make this any better for me, the Commodore explained after one of these moments, but don't you worry, little soldier. I'm going to find every way to optimize your performance, even if it means cooking up some 'combat drugs' of my own right here inside your skull.

The original Teryx, at this point, truly felt as if he were simply along for the ride. Even the frustration of the drygasms was starting to feel less and less real each time he experienced it. His steady lack of agency was taking a greater toll on the amount of fight he had left in him, but the downsides of this in terms of his pleasure were being masked by how much better the slug was continuing to get at manipulating his neurochemistry. When Teryx wasn't feeling "into it," the Commodore could synthesize the right triggering compounds to simulate that passion and fire.

Indeed, the alien had grown so very skilled at claiming the pleasure of those drygasms for himself while shunting any lingering feelings of blue-balled frustration onto the host, except for those times when the Commodore voluntarily experienced it for his own informational purposes or twisted enjoyment. The host's original consciousness, despite any attempts to struggle or to quibble internally, remained at the mercy of the alien.

This was not the proverbial notion of, "I have no mouth and I must scream" any longer. It was more like, "I have no anything and I must something," which was better in some ways and worse in others. Better, in that the totality of the Commodore's control made it easy to sink into the experience as if it were all just a dream, a thing out of his control from which he would someday wake up. Oftentimes, the original Teryx would go with the flow of that floaty, no-agency feeling and embrace its pleasures -- as if to prove in some perverse way that by controlling him, the Commodore still couldn't help making some small and cheeky part of him happy.

Likewise, when the original Teryx really wanted to stop experiencing something, he simply insulted his captor until the slug put him under blackout again. The slug even seemed to understand this was what the original wanted -- but gave it to him anyway out of convenience. Teryx was a pragmatic-enough dragon, after all.

Whether the original Teryx's little freedom-fight could be called passive aggression of the highest caliber, or just the coping passivity of someone having his psyche torn apart piece by piece through continual manipulation -- that was up for debate, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. He knew he was being eroded, and that at this point the Commodore could likely put his mind on mute indefinitely. Being uppity enough to be entertaining was, in its own way, also an instinct toward survival. Even if that instinct was getting harder and harder to cling to with time.

The original Teryx knew what a sinister character the Commodore was, and was becoming, in large part because of his awareness of his own kinks and inner darkness. His roadmap to surviving in this situation was none other than himself, which was a topic with which he had long held more than a passing fascination.

Despite this, the original Teryx had no way of knowing what the Commodore felt during those times when the original's consciousness was blacked out. Judging by the way these vast swaths of time would be lost from his memory, the original could only assume that the Commodore was in full conscious control the rest of the time, experiencing every detail. However, it was hard to keep perspective on how much time was passing now that his life had become like a series of jump cuts in a poorly plotted erotic film.

As much as he aspired to keep himself in the game, the original Teryx also had great difficulties keeping his focus where he wanted it. His instincts were good, and his aspirations transcendental, but the moment to moment details of resisting were starting to slip away from him more and more as time went on.

When he had said, "Yes, Commodore," on the bus, he had given up something crucial. He had ceded to the slug the right to force his very soul to fall in line with the alien's will. That was the truth; he must obey.

No, screw that, thought the host, this time noticing the taint of the Commodore's narrative upon his mind. That isn't how it is, and you're still nothing but a slug.

Though, in truth, he hardly even believed it as he thought it. It nevertheless earned the original Teryx another nice long time-out in unconsciousness, which suited both the host and his controller just fine in that instant. The former, because he was really tired of sucking on the too-slow-to-blow horse dick that had been in his maw for what seemed like ages now; the latter, because he was tired of his host being a spoilsport and dampening the novelty of the experience. The Commodore, in one of those few ways that his nature as a parasite continued to make him think differently from his host, found the notion of a slow-to-cum stud very desirable indeed, since it seemed like such a useful basis for generating the delicious neurochemicals he craved. Such a pity that he could only be in one head at a time!

"Teryx" worked the big guy's medial ring for a while longer, and heard the encouraging sounds of two strong hands slamming open-palmed against the stall wall. Then there was the puffing, the flaring... and the big, gushing load. So much of it, and so tasty... it made his host's brain respond in such peculiar and pleasurable ways. These feelings of intense submission and peace at making another man cum... perhaps it was true.

Perhaps this entire planet really was just a slave race from the beginning, shackled to the lusts of their own bodies and in need of masters to regulate them. The Commodore wouldn't just be a conqueror of them, but a contributor in managing their strong desires. Managing them, feeding on them...

"Mmm, yes~" moaned Teryx. He licked down the right side of his maw to catch a dribble that got there while the equine pulled back out through the hole.

* * *

The original Teryx awoke again the following morning... maybe the following? Some morning afterward. Not too long, his hunches told him.

He awoke to the sight of his hand carefully manipulating a set of narrow sausage links that he was frying up in a skillet on his stove.

"Ah, good morning, soldier~" Teryx's voice lilted, almost like a song. "Isn't this honey sausage just the most delicious-smelling thing?"

This is a sick joke, isn't it? inquired the host. You're referencing something I thought of before.

The puppeted rain dragon snickered. "Yes, of course I am. You should consider it an olive branch."

Clearly they are sausage links.

"It's a metaphor, silly."

What do you want this time? I barely even know what's going on anymore, and your trying to be my friend all of a sudden worries me.

"Perhaps it should." He paused and worked on the food for a while longer, giving his host time to take in the pleasant ambience of the scent and the sounds of the cooking. "Really though, fried up like a sausage by medical science? I am hurt that you would've ever wished such a fate upon me."

Your real body is shaped like a sausage. I call 'em like I see 'em.

"I suppose fair is fair. You also can't stop thinking with the sausage between your legs."

Hey, that isn't even my fault. You're the one pushing that so hard.

"That argument would have more weight if you weren't so enamored of it."

Heh. If there's one thing I learned years ago, it's that I can't directly control what I like. That's kind of in the nature of what preference is.

"True enough. What do you think, does it look done to you?"

Can't you tell?

"I'm offering you a chance to give some input, soldier. Are you going to take it or not?"

...It's a little off. Don't eat that one on the far left. I bet you put them in one at a time, didn't you?

"Observant. I did."

That one hasn't cooked evenly. That pan on that burner has a tendency to concentrate too much heat in the center and the right.

"Useful information, which I can corroborate with your memories. At least we are able to talk to each other well." Teryx smiled broadly.

This is all some kind of hook to butter me up so you can milk more pleasure out of me, isn't it?

The Commodore took his time about responding, moving a few of the sausage links out of the pan while letting the suspect one get more time on the heat. "Let me ask you something, soldier: if an animal on your planet seeks food or sex, is it 'just milking more' out of its environment? Is there some damning judgment attached to that, or is it simply how life is?"

It's simply how life is. You know how I feel about it. It occurred to the host that there had never been any direct acknowledgment of this -- merely that the Commodore's actions in copying him had demonstrated a clear adoption of that worldview.

"Then I have a proposal for you, 'roomie.'"

I thought I was your subordinate soldier?

"Nothing stopping it from being both. Call it a barracks arrangement. Squad camaraderie."

The host found himself going for the notion more than he might've expected. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome -- the stark contrast between oblivion and the smell of freshly fried sausage, and the knowledge that disobedience meant one and obedience could mean the other. Nevertheless... it wasn't like he had much of a choice. He still had one, he simply didn't like any of the consequences for disobeying further. If he was stuck with this bug in his head, then... maybe what he really wanted was to learn about it... maybe even help it.

Was this really happening? Host Teryx wondered, himself. He still wasn't sure, but... the Commodore certainly had the advantage of giving Teryx another of himself to explore.

I'll level with you, Commodore, said the original. Suddenly, he found himself in control of his own face and voice box, with the understanding that he should speak the words aloud. "You're never going to get what you really want unless you can tap into me being switchy."

His hand continued to poke unbidden at the sausage in the pan, reminding the host that speech was the only privilege he was being given right now.

You're implying the best of your pleasure comes from oscillating between dominance and submission. Conceptually, I understand this, but I am unclear on some of the specifics. It seems like a paradox.

"Well, you already know I get going harder when I struggle with you."

Correct.

"The struggle for dominance is part of it for me. It always has been. Knowing I can make a big show of resisting."

A show. Heh. His hands transferred the remaining sausages to a plate to cool.

"Yes. A show. You know my heart on this. You have to know by now. You're too deep in my head not to."

I have had my suspicions. This whole time, it seemed you kept fighting me in part for the sake of your own enjoyment. You got off on wriggling beneath my oppression. For a while I thought adding even more oppression would increase this, but that turned out to create a suboptimal balance.

"Yeah, cause you're not letting me feel like I have a chance. Just knocking me out and playing with my body is great and all... but I think if you're serious about creating this... ultimate food source or whatever, you're going to have to give me some room to breathe, and room for my dominance to get expressed. Mine. Not just yours."

Hmm, but mine is based on yours.

"Then why's it not getting more satisfying, faster?"

Teryx's Commodore-controlled hands picked up a sausage link and lifted it to the maw, giving the host a chance to bite into it voluntarily. It was an opportunity that he gladly took.

Sausage had never tasted so good. Though that might've been due to the Commodore somehow amplifying the experience. For the host, it currently seemed as if the whole world was honeyed, oily goodness with a meaty and moist texture.

It's not getting more satisfying, faster, because you are still the keystone in this architecture, confessed the Commodore. I cannot obliterate "you" without breaking down some fundamental aspects of how this exquisite reaction cascades within your brain. I could put you down forever -- I'm quite sure I could -- but I see no gain from doing so. Only an addition of boredom and a slowing of my mission.

"Heh. Still surprises me you aren't fed up enough yet. As much as you've eaten you must be getting to be the size of some monster grub in there. Kinda spooky."

His hand brought up another sausage link. Eat, said the Commodore.

Well, Teryx wasn't complaining. He happily munched on the next one too.

"Mmm, yeah, that's cooked just right." He licked around his teeth and the outer edges of his mouth. "Always did pride myself on my cooking."

Yes, Teryx does pride himself on his cooking.

Teryx swallowed and refocused. "I won't lie, that lack of an answer about your size is concerning."

The Commodore sounded mildly annoyed, but not aggressive. If you must know, gauging my size and energy stores is not entirely simple for me. I suppose you could liken it to the fact that you can tell when you're hungry but wouldn't know what your blood glucose level is without a more direct system for measuring it. Unlike you, I don't have eyes or a sense of body that can identify changes in my size directly.

"That must feel a little humbling."

Not particularly. My instincts will tell me when I have enough for what is coming. Something is coming. I know that much for sure.

"Uh-huh. So what about giving me a chance to get more reinvested? Can we talk about that?"

Oh. No request is necessary. I agree with your assessment. I was already reaching similar conclusions.

"Heh, just wanted to check with the other you?"

Squad camaraderie. You're under me, but a victory for one of us is a victory for both of us.

"Hah, that's good. You really know how to spin biological enslavement and make it sound great." There was far, far less sarcasm to the host's words than there would've been even a week ago. "C'mon, more of that sausage! Let's figure out what we're going to do this week."

Your Commodore now is open to suggestions. Just keep eating, and so will I.

"Ugh, you're really having an effect on me. That sounds kind of hot all by itself."

You know what it means when I feed, I think.

"Yeah... yeah, I do. Speaking of which, I guess you've already figured out how to manipulate my hormones to make me more productive and put aside my refractory period?"

I've been working on that steadily. I'd be shocked if you hadn't already guessed.

"I thought so. I already have a healthy sex drive... but I don't normally want it quite as continually as you make happen. I figured it must be more than just in my head, since... well... we're never ending up pushing rope."

Nor will I let that happen.

Teryx couldn't help grinning a little. "All right... so if you're going to keep using this flesh-puppet we laughingly call my body, here's what I think we should do..."

So it was that Teryx pitched a battle strategy for his Commodore, over a delicious breakfast of sausage.

* * *

The following weeks were an exciting time for nightclub-goers in yet another part of the city, a predominantly middle- and upper-class place many blocks distant from where Teryx lived. Rumors quickly began to spread of a certain hunk of a dragon who would slip inside a nightclub when one would least expect it, and remain in the shadows for a while as he observed the people around.

Then, once he had found a favorite, he would proceed to pull all the stops and work his charms on the unsuspecting target, capturing their heart with his captivating looks and irresistible moves. He would walk with them wherever they liked, woo them with small gifts and nice little late dinners if they hadn't eaten properly yet, or loosen them up with a few more drinks.

And finally, by the end of the night, the dragon and his new partner would slip off quietly into a private location of their own, and people could only imagine what the two of them would do together.

In almost no time at all, the dragon became something of a local legend, which was an impressive feat for someone who had no perspective on the fact he was doing so. For Teryx the host, it all flowed together like one impressive montage of dating and mating -- mostly the latter, because the Commodore seemed quite intent on limiting Teryx's life experiences outside of sex for the time being. Whether that was because the Commodore was having too much fun becoming and replacing Teryx in the day-to-day, or if it had something more specifically to do with manipulating his brain to maximize how much it fed the slug within, remained outside of the host's knowledge for the moment.

Nevertheless, Teryx's renown in the area was on the rise, and some patrons would in fact visit the nightclubs longer and more frequently, in the hopes of being able to catch a glimpse of this mysterious dragon and maybe -- just maybe! -- even get to be picked as his lucky target. Even outside of the bedroom, he was known for being quite attractive and fun, and that went a long way toward increasing his appeal.

There were many dates and flashes of lovemaking during these weeks -- emphasis on many, for the Commodore had transformed Teryx into a ravenous sexual force, and seemed quite unwilling to slow down. For every encounter that the host remembered, there were two that he experienced but forgot with the fleetingness of a dream, and for every one of those, there were two or three others than the Commodore hoarded entirely for himself for "experimental reasons."

And that was what life became for Teryx's original mind: like a wave of dreams, images and sensations one after another. All orchestrated and delivered to him in keeping with the discussion he had had with the Commodore before -- yet, as usual, with the slug's typically twisted spins on the idea. Rather than letting Teryx express and enjoy dominance in full, there were often certain... seasonings, added to the experience. Seasonings which enhanced the slug's feast at the expense of his host's conscious enjoyment. The depths to which this would descend, however, were not apparent at first.

At first, it really did seem like just a long string of hot nights. Moments that clipped one into another.

Teryx experienced seducing a lithe, aloof jackal he met in one of the clubs. Though the host lacked control, he could feel a surprisingly good sync between himself and the Commodore as the latter played the part of "Teryx" so perfectly, putting on those aforementioned charms and even elaborating upon them in ways Teryx wouldn't previously have allowed himself to do. The rain dragon had always been a bit of a narcissist, but the Commodore had such an abject lack of concern about expressing that tendency that he was able to take it into places that the original had never dared, for the sake of fitting in better at work and in society, The Commodore's ability to compartmentalize and organize such tendencies was extreme, and any attitude held for the sake of getting sex could easily be dropped like a mask just moments later. There was no commitment, only the drive to get what he wanted.

A drive which, if Teryx was honest, he found incredibly hot. It certainly helped sustain the firmness of his shaft as he ploughed into that sweet jackal who had offered himself for the evening after a lot of convincing. It was one of those tender fucks, done with a person who was unsure of himself, and the Commodore kept himself from going too crazy with it. It was slow, and it built up high and strong, Teryx ascending his peak and having a climax in a way that was closely timed to the jackal's own. Trying to cum at the same time was just another part of the game for the slug, who expressed a bit of curiosity that perhaps it might heighten how well his host fed him. The results seemed positive, yet inconclusive, and he dismissed it as not critically important to examine further for the time being.

Then Teryx would lose time and cut away to a different scenario altogether. His feeling of being balls deep in the jackal gave way to a different time, now similarly balls deep inside of a snow leopard in a hotel room near one of those clubs. The leopard was excited and growling, on the verge of losing a load for himself as well as his cock strained against the covers. Teryx felt like he had been edging for hours -- like he might somehow have been penetrating this same feline for that whole duration, somehow not letting loose his seed throughout -- and suddenly here he was, swept up in feeling another ascent toward a climax.

Take the shot, soldier~ the Commodore teased.

Denying him one day, forcing him over the edge the next. The host supposed it had been part of what he had wanted, part of what he asked for... but why did it have to feel so demeaning now that he was in the middle of it!?

Teryx had no time to coherently argue, as his sensations deepened into orgasm. Guided by the Commodore's skilled control of his body, he was forced to endure the joys of ramming against that nice rear again, and again... even as the pleasure and sensitivity of his shaft became overwhelming.

It was rare for the rain dragon to let an orgasm get the best of him so much like this, but there was no denying the shockwaves hammering throughout him from his groin. He roared in triumph as the spurts progressed, strengthening in intensity after the first few ropes of his seed were launched, until his partner squeaked in shock beneath him. No doubt the leopard had not expected the dragon's climax to be this productive!

... And neither did the host. The reverberating bliss fast outpaced what he was prepared to deal with as another, and yet another, heavy jet coursed through his shaft, splattering the interior of his leopard. While the feline growled, "Teryx" kept reassuring him that there was more where this came from, and that the night need not stop until the leopard was no more than a bundle of purrs and well-spent cock.

The dragon snarled as his eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, slamming his hips forward with such ferocity that the next few spurts of his seed shot in quick succession. His tongue hung out.

Yes, this is more like it. This is life , the Commodore observed.

The host was a little less enthused. Gh... must be fun, ya jerk. If you had to feel how overstimulating this is--

I do feel it right along with you tonight. I just don't care. This is mine to feel as Teryx, after all.

Then do me a favor and knock me back out and deal with it yourself!

It's funny you should mention that.

When next Teryx regained enough composure to open his eyes, he found himself on his knees, hands fondling a large reddish shaft which seemed to belong to a coyote on the verge of climax. The massive bulb of his knot lay inflated before his eyes, so huge and round and veiny, almost as though it was threatening to blow at any moment. Uncertain as he was on his current location or even the identity of this canine sitting on the chair in front of him, Teryx knew he must not stop working on the shaft, and work on it he did.

The Commodore made Teryx's eyes perform a helpfully informative upward glance, revealing a dusty tan coyote sitting in light bondage on a wooden chair, hands behind him and thighs spread to expose his shaft and balls for manipulation. They were in some back room at one of the clubs... the music was still thumping in through the walls. The coyote looked like he already wasn't too far from losing it.

Even as the rain dragon's masterful hands squeezed around the rigid cock, fingers tightening around the sensitive flesh, Teryx noticed that the overwhelming pulses in his shaft which he felt just moments ago -- or so it seemed to him, anyway -- were still ongoing. Glancing down, he found out why; the coyote was using his feet to give Teryx a footjob. The delicate feet and rubbery pawpads were incessantly teasing the nerves on his shaft in a manner which Teryx did not often feel, and he could feel another orgasm approaching fast for him. Somehow, it didn't feel quite as crushing on his nerves as before.

Time heals all wounds, does it not? observed the Commodore.

"Come on, use those paws better than that... I need it much quicker if you wanna persuade me to make this thing of yours blow," Teryx was teasing his partner. The words were said in immediate succession after the Commodore's inner speech, adding a further surrealness to the experience for the host.

His feet... ahh hell, he's really good.

He's trying so hard, yet he's bound and can't get away. It's rather endearing -- kind of like someone else I know.

Hrgh!! Do you have to keep yapping about it?

You know you like it, soldier.

Their banter was interrupted by the coyote's toe pads really hitting the right spots. Teryx's shaft flexed and bobbed, pushing up toward a peak that the host hadn't quite been expecting.

Haha, good... you're carrying it over nicely... one encounter to the next, this raw need to produce, to release your endorphins...

Teryx's awareness of his body deepened further. The lingering sense of orgasm within him spread out -- claiming his body up, down, and along each side. His confused groin muscles started spasming... his body felt as if it was rushing to catch up and launch out seed that he should've launched days ago, or perhaps was launching days ago.

Despite this, he did not cum yet. He throbbed urgently, and had something like a dry orgasm... but his seed remained within.

Another order came down from his superior officer: Now, soldier... make sure he enjoys himself too.

The puppeted body obeyed, playing on Teryx's blended-in submissive urges. He got into licking and at the underside of the shaft, and massaging the knot quicker. There was a sense of compassion and relatability toward the bound 'yote, as well as that raw lust to ejaculate.

The dragon's efforts were working. The coyote's tail, which had been swaying slowly behind him, seemed to fall limp and tremble as the canine's ears fell sideways. His fangs were gritted as a soft whine escaped his throat, and soon the shaft grew even more rigid somehow, as it lurched in Teryx's grip before the first blast of seed lashed across the dragon's forehead.

Upon seeing the coyote climax, Teryx reached his right hand down to grip the knot tightly, squeezing it firmly to intensify the coyote's peak. Judging by the way the canine had gasped loudly with widened eyes, it worked tremendously well. Thick creamy seed continued to erupt from the warm shaft, the reddish-pink rod throbbing hard within Teryx's hands.

"Good," Teryx was saying. "Now you know your end of the deal."

The 'yote nodded and groaned. Teryx undid the bonds and hoisted him upright, yanking his pants further down and pushing him up against the wall while his shaft was still limp and spent. From there, Teryx shoved his own shaft deep inside, and rutted hard for about two minutes more before painting the inside of his latest conquest.

There was little romance to this one. The coyote moaned and sank in a slump against the wall after Teryx pulled out. The canid looked as pleasured by the penetration as by the afterglow... it seemed he was the sort who actually enjoyed a good bit of overstimulation. How nice to have been able to provide.

With that, the world turned fuzzy again for the host. Sensations numbed, even as his body kept on walking. His sight faded to darkness, and the voice in his head was the only thing to focus on.

A substantial improvement, soldier, the Commodore commended him while his shaft settled down. Now, let's put it all together.

* * *

Pouncing. Rolling. Light clawing and raking. Teryx was in a flat that he didn't recognize, with a golden cheetah of average build and a tan-and-brown-splotched hyena with a relaxed and rounded tum. The host felt his instincts to get on top of them in full swing, but he was slowed down and confused by this in contrast with the afterglow he had just felt. Despite this, he wasn't in control of his body anyway, so he felt his puppeted actions with a heavy anticipation. How was he hard again? It must be so much later, perhaps days...

The bed was large, and it was no secret to any of them that they planned on having a threesome then and there on it. Both of them were smiling and giggling at him as he nibbled at their fur and ferociously tried to secure a place at the top. They were both also quick -- occasionally double-teaming him as roommates would do. They called him cute, or Mr. Handsome, and took a refreshingly girly approach to their time with him. From their words, he knew he must've been quite charismatic. He had never seen either of them in his life.

When they eventually pinned him down along both arms, he wrestled hard to get free. He was so hard as he did this, and they kept admiring the shape of his cock with its lovely ridges and nice girth. He managed to get the hyena off of him, but then the cheetah rolled him over and got him flat on his belly. He had to laugh even as he chided them about two versus one not being fair.

Though I think we both know, the Commodore commented internally as the cheetah proceeded to have his way with the dragon, that this struggle has a secret second participant on our side.

Host Teryx would've been mad if it didn't feel so nice. The cheetah was treating him right with deep and gradual thrusts, and the hyena was grooming his mane with a comb and talking up his beauty even while the "humiliation" of being beaten progressed. Despite this, he felt the ongoing sense that the Commodore found them disgusting somehow.

Sycophants. Parasites. But, they are useful.

The host couldn't help responding to that one: Look who's talking.

I don't mean to imply that I hate parasites. I simply won't stand for having competition. Still, I admire their skills at making your nerves do the things I want.

Heh. You're really having fun making me feel all this. It was a statement still filled with doubt, but one he couldn't help making.

Hey, winning is usually fun! said the slug -- again more fully mimicking Teryx's demeanor.

Teryx's original consciousness was then treated to the delights of being penetrated and filled by both of the two -- but not quite allowed to reach climax himself. He felt himself getting closer several times, but when he got right there, to the rhythm of the cheetah stroking his cock from underneath him while the hyena took his turn, the host lost track of himself. He faded away into the rising swirl of pleasure.

* * *

Then, it seemed he was in a noisy nightclub somewhere else. The Commodore was speaking through Teryx. There was a familiar, vulpine smell in his nostrils, and an immense need to act out those dominant urges that had been quashed in the previous encounter. Those urges still felt so fresh in his mind, even if the encounter may have happened quite some time ago.

"When I ask for strong yet delicious, you know I only ask for it because that's exactly what others get when they ask for me."

"You stop that~" teased the fox -- Roy, that waiter from some day prior -- who after around five hours or wooing and a few drinks had traded his professional coldness for a softer voice and a hunger in his rear.

Teryx grinded up hard against him, cock pressing in on the small of his back before he shoved the fox down.

Then the host realized: despite the low lighting and telltale sounds, this wasn't a noisy club. This was his own bedroom, in his own flat, with club music blasting in the background and some discarded glow sticks lying on the floor nearby. Somehow the Commodore had gone out and allured this guy into coming home with him. Now he was mounting the fox atop the bed.

"Please don't hold back... don't even look at me, just do whatever you want," the fox was saying. His arms wriggled in the dragon's grip before settling down.

Host Teryx felt himself get pushed deeply into his body's enjoyment, even though he remained teasingly out of control. He could not avoid feeling the sensations as they increased, layering upon the past pleasures of these recent days. The Commodore was timing every sensation to hit him hard and build up the need for experiencing release. It seemed impossible he could feel this pent up already... hadn't he just been on a whirlwind tour of sex with so many others?

The fox's tail raised high and then flagged. Teryx thrust aggressively against him, roughly using him until he was moaning beneath him. This time, the host could feel the Commodore's version of his own egotism, with tremendous clarity: that raw enjoyment of demonstrating his superiority to the fox, and that smug satisfaction at feeling the narrower male twitch and wiggle as he thrust deeper and filled him. The fox had such a gratuitously large amount of lube in him, as if he had dumped way more than intended in his excitement. A shaky hand doing a poor job with a bottle -- some waiter he was! Or perhaps that was simply why he was a waiter and not a bartender... couldn't keep from spilling things he was supposed to pour!

For every thing that Teryx teased him about externally, the host and the Commodore experienced a rapid sharing of ideas about it within their head. It was all moving so fast, and the host needed... he just needed to cum hard now, he thought. If only he could get off inside this fox, he would--

--Then, as if only blinking his eyes, he transitioned into looking at a dolphin wearing a harness beneath him instead. Every nerve in Teryx's body got hit with a discombobulating rush of pleasure as the host's consciousness tried to reconcile its level of arousal with that of the body, which was turned on but not yet near the peak.

I hope you won't mind, soldier, but I took that fox for myself. He was such a good lay, if a bit whiny.

Teryx's inner reply consisted mostly of expletives and pleas that he tried to make sound as if they weren't pleas. His cock throbbed powerfully as he was shoved deeper into the sensations again, feeling that smooth dolphin skin rubbing along his shaft as the subby thing played with his shaft with beak and hands alike. The Commodore was making Teryx pull hard and upward a leash attached to the dolphin's harness, guiding and directing the hot-and-horny male in his movements. There was an almost worshipful aim to the exercise, constantly seeking to excite the dolphin further while nevertheless forcing him to touch the dragoncock in a reverent and restrained fashion. The 'phin's own shaft was ragingly hard below, and the blowhole was flexing rapidly in a way that Teryx had essentially never seen before, perhaps an equivalent of panting.

Again Teryx was in his own home, this time on his own kitchen's floor.

This one is a good partner, but he has taken some convincing, the Commodore added for clarity. He wanted to top us, but I have been showing him the benefits of submitting to control.

Teryx's cock spat a glob of pre upon the arrival of those words into the consciousness of the host. It landed wet and hot on the top of the dolphin's head. To say that the host's buttons were being pushed at the time would've been an understatement; his mind was now a mix of sheer need, surging dominance, and his secret lust for being forced into action by a power stronger than himself. He was so horny he almost couldn't keep track of what was what: some bit of him knew he should still hold suspicion toward the Commodore, and in a sense he still did, but there was now this warm and pleasurable buffer of rightness and feeling his place within the ranks. He had to show his majesty and strength off to the people the Commodore brought home. He had to demonstrate his worth and superiority. He had to--

Teryx had been edging closer and closer. He started to feel it -- that dizzying rush of climax, but it wasn't right. It was like his mind was flowing out of his head and down his spine and into his loins, where it would soon be ejaculated right out of his body through his cock. The sensations were his, within reach, and he was beginning to experience them... but now the Commodore was taking them away, keeping him in a limbo which best suited his hunt for pleasure. The host could feel his body spasming, but only as if it were happening to someone else. He could hear the dolphin's excited whistle as the load gushed out... but for the original Teryx, it was not an orgasm he could call his own now. It was an orgasm he had been compelled to create in the service of his master.

That feeling of departing from himself led to another loss of time -- and a looming feeling that maybe his advice to the Commodore had worked a little too well.

* * *

Teryx's original consciousness awoke again, to that rare perception of being fully in control of his own body.

...Other than being lovingly tied with coarse yellow ropes to all four posts of a mahogany, king-sized bedframe, with a plush mattress bouncing underneath him, while a tiger fucked him in the ass with a dick befitting the overall stature. Doggy style, with nowhere for bottom-doggy Teryx to run.

The dragon's erection was bouncing too, slapping at the dainty, silken pink bedcovers and smearing them with an amount of pre that made it seem as if he hadn't climaxed in weeks. For all he knew, maybe he hadn't. Maybe all of those previous encounters had happened over a long time... or maybe they had been back to back, but he never finished during the last one, and a few more happened unbeknownst to him after that.

He had no frame of reference, and the Commodore wasn't forthcoming with the info. To the contrary, his alien "barracks-mate" was entirely silent for now.

Yet, at this point, half-complicit in the Commodore's actions as he was, the host felt a strange sense of trust, in spite of how blue-balled and trapped he felt. If the Commodore got him tied up here, it must be safe. His body was an important asset. He was important to the advancement of the Commodore's people. The thoughts coursed through him like silently installed propaganda, making servitude seem all the more appealing.

Also, in some weird way, the tiger seemed familiar, although the host couldn't place from where. The man's scent especially seemed familiar and alluring, which helped to relax Teryx further into the sex: into his present role beneath this strong, virile male.

As the moments passed, Teryx felt increasingly strong sensations on his prostate: like something between tickle torture and acupressure, caressing him deep inside his groin. That fullness, the prickliness, the incessant jabs of pleasure every time the powerful felid slammed him...

The dragon was vaguely aware of the smell of smoke. Then, some cigar ashes dropped onto the silk near his left hand, and sizzled in all their ugly glory on that expensive piece of fabric.

Gods, how far he had fallen.

And through it all, he wanted only one thing. He wanted it so desperately that he no longer cared if his inner captor got off on feeling it happen.

He wanted to cum.

He needed it. He fancied that he needed it worse than any hungry addict had ever needed any drug. He needed to make those teasing, writhing tingles inside him progress to their conclusion. He needed to let his seed go.

To that end, he needed the tiger to fuck him harder.

"Please..." the dragon whimpered. "PLEAAAASE!"

His voice nearly cracked. He was a switch, sure, but never one to plead as if the world would collapse if the next hearty thrust did not arrive. It was unbecoming, degrading...

...And it lit up every pleasure center his brain could muster. If anything, his neural roommate seemed to be amplifying it: negating the pain of the barbs raking him, yet somehow boosting his pleasure-sensitivity for the cock's firm motions and wide girth.

Now the tiger grabbed him by his mane. His beautiful, radiant mane that he might normally resent a man for touching the wrong way, or with the wrong degree of respect.

The pain on his neck from that viciously dominant tug was just another voice in the chorus of need and desire.

"Yes..." Teryx breathed. "Make me... make me c..."

The dragon gasped as the tiger hilted him. Teryx's eyes rolled slightly as he felt every drop of strength drain out of his muscles.

This tiger can try, said the Commodore, but only I can truly make you cum.

Teryx collapsed drooling onto the bed, his elbows not even properly catching him. Then, he ejaculated -- but he barely even experienced his pleasure. He could sense its presence, as if that blissful glow was a phantom lurking all around his body, yet existing in some other dimension with which he couldn't unite himself.

Please... please let me! Teryx begged as the sensations receded from his awareness.

Mm, almost perfect. You're so hungry for it.

True words -- Teryx's body writhed as if he was having the greatest orgasm of his life. Judging by his tone, the Commodore was enjoying the neurological feast that accompanied those spasms. A downward glance revealed that the pool of cum was unexpectedly huge and still growing with every spurt. Unexpectedly for the host, anyway, although not surprisingly. He knew the Commodore would eventually master every single biochemical switch, dial and lever over his body and sex.

Rather than shudder in fear at the thought, the original Teryx only felt an eager excitement for what was yet to come. Perfect control. No one else, other than the Commodore, was worthy.

Now, soldier, do you trust me with control? Offer the control to me willingly, and I'll hook you into this wonderful feeling.

The offer was like the taste of cotton candy in the host's mind: so sweet that it couldn't possibly be natural... and just like he would do to a piece of cotton candy, he licked it up and revelled in the way it overwhelmed his senses.

Yes, Commodore... I'm all yours to command.

"Stupid slut, get back up!" grumped the tiger while Teryx's spasming cock kept puddling more cream onto the sheets below. A big orange hand smacked against the dragon's face, but Teryx hardly felt any pain from that either. "Up, up! I'm not done yet!"

Teryx grunted involuntarily, his arms regaining enough of their tension to push robotically upright into supporting himself again. Just as involuntarily, he gazed back at his feline conquest and said, with a crazed expression in his eyes, "Yes, sir."

The original consciousness trembled internally as the Commodore reclaimed the role of piloting the dragon's body. A warm paralysis overcame his will, and he felt the pleasure he had been denied earlier leaking into the edges of his awareness. He drank it in. He drank it like a desert traveler who had just been given a moment at the oasis.

Despite this, the original's thirst only seemed to deepen. It was like drinking his way downward into a well that was running out. He had to delve deeper... he had to find more!

Need it... the original Teryx moaned from the passenger seat of his mind. I can't stand it... what did you do? Why do I need it so much tonight?

The Commodore took his time about responding. Meanwhile, Teryx's ass muscles kept clenching around the tiger, but they lacked the emotional investment and vigor from earlier. The Commodore was skillfully puppeteering them, making them work individually and methodically despite his body's overall reaction of feeling drained by his climax.

The host's mind was reeling. The wetness on his shaft... their shaft... it felt so good. Their own proud flood of seed, spent together onto this stranger's bed. This stranger, who didn't even know he was advancing their cause...

Now you understand how it feels, the copy of Teryx's voice told him. Now you understand how badly I need your chemistry.

Was that what it was, the secret ingredient that had pushed the intensity of his need to this newest height? The Commodore's own imperative to feed, expressed through the impulses of the dragon's brain in a way that the host could fully comprehend...

Perhaps this kind of sharing was what passed for mercy and empathy to the Commodore's species. Or, perhaps, this was simply what it had learned from living within the dragon.

You really need it. I can help you, the original agreed.

Yes, you will, soldier...

This duality, this transforming of one another's existence... even the original Teryx could no longer feign a dislike for it. The truth was opening itself like a gate into Nirvana... and what a comical truth it was.

Their best efforts to impede one another could not help but advance at least one of the other's goals. By resisting, Teryx had taught the Commodore even more about how to be Teryx, and enhanced the process of feeding. By dominating Teryx, the Commodore had provided the ultimate answer to that secret desire of his: to be treated as a valuable asset and leveraged to the benefit of someone strong enough to wield him.

And it would be their little secret. This tiger, who didn't even know he was advancing the Commodore's plans -- surely he must have thought he was taking advantage of a slutty dragon. He had no idea.

No one else had any idea except for Teryx and Teryx. Together, they would know and share everything. Their many partners would collapse in awe of their increasingly boundless stamina. Together, they would be adored and sought after.

Because the Commodore -- really and truly -- was better at being Teryx than Teryx was. With a better and more cunning Teryx in the driver's seat, there would be none who could stand in their way.

The tiger growled and blew his load at last, and their bowels filled up with his seed. The pulsating shaft was almost an afterthought for the dragon, for whom the true pleasure in all of this had become a spiral of self-adoring understanding.

"Mmm, thank you Daddy~" lilted Teryx with his eyes closed.

"Shut up, slut-pup," the tiger growled, before punching him lightly in the side. But it was only lightly, because he was pretty much spent. His weight was sagging upon Teryx heavier now.

What do you think? pondered the Commodore. Ready for round two?

Only if we're on top, said the host.

Unsurprisingly, my urges agree.

Teryx replayed the memory of a lustful growl. Then let's teach him not to be so rough on our mane.

From the perspective of the tiger viewing Teryx from behind, it seemed that nothing had changed. Both of them were panting... but something was now quite different.

"Does my big guy want even more?" Teryx asked. His erection was already hardening back up.

The tiger grunted in agreement. "Yeah, just not yet, so you stay down."

"Hhh, okay... just untie me for now, stud?"

Already overcome by his afterglow, the tiger didn't argue with it. He pulled out, the semi-flaccid rod sliding free with a schluck, and then began undoing the simple bonds in between puffs of his cigar. It turned out that he had managed to tie one of the arm ropes tightly enough that it was giving his orgasm-clumsy fingers trouble, so Teryx helped him by chomping the rope's fibers in half.

"Guess I'm a hungry man today," said the dragon with a grin.

"Yeah, you can say that," agreed the tiger, before putting what was left of his cigar aside.

A minute of quiet passed between them as they gathered themselves. Teryx crouched on the bed, giving the man behind him a lewd view of his drooling rear and the curves of his ass. "Mmm... that's really good... you gave me so much..." He only meant pleasure, but correctly expected the tiger would take it to mean cum.

"You're awful ready again for how hard you were losin' it," sneered the tiger, who was trying to look less exhausted than he currently was.

The dragon's face formed a smug grin. "Mm, and you aren't ready yet at all, are you?"

Teryx turned around and bared his bobbing erection -- somehow already leaking pre again -- and licked his own snout as he looked at the chubby, panting man behind him.

Without a word further, the dragon pounced and toppled the heavier man onto his back. Suddenly they were wrestling, growling and grunting and huffing. An instant later, Teryx had a not-so-loving love bite positioned around his neck. Both of their movements froze, and the tiger's cock began plumping again.

"Seems it's time for me to return the favor, stud."

"Hey, HEY! I don't bottom for no one!"

"Do I look like a no-one?" the dragon teased. "Why not let me show you the bliss you bring to everyone else?"

The tiger breathed slower, and his shaft reached full mast.

"This is because I grabbed your mane, isn't it," he grumbled.

"I never forgive those who disrespect my mane. I insist on teaching you a lesson. Whether it's this lesson or a different one is yours to decide."

"Hnghgrr... fine, do your worst."

Teryx nudged the man's cheek with his snout. "On the contrary, I'll be doing my very best. My pleasure is of utmost importance to me... and a tight, unused hole like yours is just what I'm in the mood for now."

Teryx hoisted the tiger's thighs upward with a strength the larger man hadn't realized the dragon had in him, and began a missionary expedition into his depths.

The tiger was moaning within seconds... but Teryx was only just getting started.

To the more-or-less broken mind of the host, it seemed as if his entire purpose for existing had only just begun. He would hold this man down. He would claim pleasure to feed to the Commodore. The original Teryx had no other purpose, for the Teryx that existed now was to be shaped as what the Commodore desired. The host's consciousness was now only a dressed-up beggar, a stand-in blessed with that wondrous duty of taking on the world on the Commodore's behalf, whenever more important matters occupied the latter's mind. The one who had once been Teryx, that inferior old model, must serve and serve in hopes of winning his master's graces.

Nothing else mattered now. That was the narrative flowing endlessly through his mind, enabled by the cracks in his psyche and fueled by the Commodore's constant neurochemical manipulations. Teryx was under control. He had only to say, "Yes, Commodore," and do as the impulses of the true master within dictated. He was rank-and-file in an alien navy now, though his feet hadn't so much as left the ground of his home planet. Oh, to be distinguished someday for his service, how good that would feel if ever it came to pass!

To the outside world, he would have looked menacing -- almost psychopathic -- as he jackhammered the tiger with so much zeal... but these actions were the plan and province of his master, a script followed flawlessly to achieve an end. Deep within, the host remained meek and cowed, anxiously seeking any praise or pleasure the Commodore might deem fit to allow him.

The Commodore reveled in it all, putting a doubly genuine sneer on Teryx's face as he heard the tiger begging for more.

They would all beg for more. Through whatever means necessary, he would make them his.

Hnnh, just don't forget to let me resist sometimes, the host reminded him. He huffed both outwardly and inwardly, a dragon unleashing his sexual instincts at the same time as he conspired to ensure the pleasure of his future. Resisting and losing... hrraaah~ that makes it so much better!

There it was. His last dirty secret, given into his master's hands like the key to a collar.

Your suggestion is noted. Now, we're going to claim this man so hard that he begs for more. You will remain awake and produce what I need. Is that clear?

Yes, Commodore.

When Teryx came for the second time, the obedient host felt the entire force of the orgasm. It was like a seal of confirmation that this was his place, his right and proper station in the world. It was dizzying, inescapable, and exquisite -- even as his body kept thrusting unimpeded under the force of the Commodore's strong neural hijacking.

Unending stamina.

The cleverness of an alien mind based upon his own.

Teryx felt as if he had been recruited onto the winning side of a great conflict. As he kept ploughing and ploughing the tiger, he felt unstoppable, even in his paralyzed-passenger state.

"That's a good kitty..."

"Rrrrghrrr!!"

"One more go, and I'll let you back up. Then we can trade places again, if you think you can still get it up."

"Nrr, do your worst. I like a challenge!"

Teryx grinned and winked, if only to himself. "Mmhh, as my sources tell me, so do I."

Neither of them slept much that night.

* * *

In the days thereafter, Teryx's resistance returned from time to time, but never in full. Always it came with a tacit understanding that both of them were making a show of the dominance and subdual in order to make the experience more pleasurable. It became increasingly common for the Commodore to let Teryx pilot the body for a while, only to seize control away at an opportune moment and trigger a fitful struggle that would urge the blood to flow plumper and fuller into his cock. Likewise, the host would still resist orders in anticipation of the reprimands -- sweet dark oblivion, to be followed by yet another strange new scene that he did not have to put any effort into creating for himself. With time, each such encounter felt like a gift... a twisted preparing and handing-off of the toys known as "other people."

The Commodore also grew more and more adventurous in exploring Teryx's switchy side in the context of the sex itself -- often to the surprise of whoever his partner was at the time. His sudden reversals were not always well received, and he was run out of apartments a time or three. In most cases he talked his way into being invited back immediately afterward, for what was allegedly the hottest sex that the man in question had ever experienced.

On the other hand, "Teryx" also kept all of this low key. In terms of his public identity, he remained chillingly covert about it all, calling himself by nicknames instead of his real name whenever he tried a new partner, as well as preferring settings with poor lighting or high anonymity when he did his riskiest behaviors. Outside of making a point to his host about who was in charge, there was no need to behave in a way that was knife's-edge risky every time, since that by itself didn't contribute too much to making the host provide more of the desired nutriments.

So it was that the Commodore silently glided through Teryx's life, living it and improving it as the ultimate kind of infiltrator. Even those who had been closer to Teryx before had failed to notice the changes in his behavior or sexual appetite, because he strategically avoided involving them in this process. His co-workers continued to see him get the job done, and they smiled at how upbeat and energetic he always seemed, even if he was also leaning a little more than usual toward being a dick in conversations. It was Teryx, after all -- who knew when that guy would put a little jab in here or there? His neighbors in the apartment building likewise noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except for getting the sense that he was going out late more often. A scarce handful of his friends (with benefits) noticed he seemed to be eating healthier -- and congratulated him on his improved habits. As for why he wasn't taking them in for sex lately -- he simply was far too "busy" with his work.

From all of this, the Commodore firmly concluded another thing: the people on this planet were rubes. The greatest struggle he had faced thus far had been entirely inside of this head! A duel of wills and nerves between himself and his host. The rest of the planet might as well have been braindead and blind. Not that he was complaining -- certainly, it should make the vague orders from the canister easier to continue carrying out -- but he did wonder quite seriously what role there would be for these highly distracted primitives in the larger web of the Empire. Really, what did they have going for them?

He pondered that question from time to time, but he never quite came up with an answer that he could consider satisfyingly objective. He thought of it often enough, however, that even his severely subdued host began to wonder about it along with him. One Saturday afternoon as he wandered down the street, the original consciousness offered a thought.

Our bodies can feel pleasurable, Commodore. Perhaps that is enough?

Teryx's grin flashed, teeth showing themselves in the sun. It was a nice afternoon out, and he had been taking the surroundings in while having an idle walk toward a local park.

"That they can," he said under his breath. "That they can."

Despite his confident tone, the reality was that the Commodore lacked context for how sexual most of his kind's host races were -- or weren't. Even so, he could only imagine that his higher-ups must have already captured or engineered some sort of pleasure-focused host species for recreation. Being great and widespread conquerors, how could they not have?

Still, in the unlikely event that they had not...?

Well, perhaps the Earthlings would have some hope of usefulness in that scenario. They were meaty and stupid and horny enough to make for quite the decadent diversion.

The Commodore didn't even notice that this opinion came mainly from his host's neurology. With no host, or with a more strictly logical one, he would have simply held the position that there was no way to draw a conclusion based on the data provided. As it was, he was taking it for granted that pleasure held value to his people at all, or at least should hold value, because it held increasingly great value to him.

"Mmph, need to have some more fun soon," he said, before making shifty eyes and petting his crotch a few times. The rush of doing that where someone might notice... it was still so alluring, the way that it set the heart to pumping faster and made the vessels of the shaft open up. It felt so good for it to bulge, swell out... a promise of the next big dose of the dragon's neurochemical fruits.

The Commodore craved it. He could imagine his petite little slug-like body, slowly growing plumper as it drank of his host's bounty. Each time he drained this flesh of its seed in a spectacular climax, he was filling himself with the fuel that he would need to complete his purpose.

Whatever that purpose precisely was.

Idly, he wondered how big his hidden original body had grown; lately, he had scarcely left Teryx's perspective for long enough to perform the chemical self-assessments that would be needed to be conducted repeatedly over a period of days in order to determine this. There was so much pleasure to be gathered that it seemed more efficient not to pay much mind to his hidden form, and to let it swell as it would in accordance with its instincts and genetics. As a gut reaction, this felt "right." Like his host, he had learned the pleasure-high of trusting his instincts.

Of course, he remained quite conscious of his neurochemical adaptability. His power over the host body still deepened daily, finding new aspects of its systems that could be manipulated. He was one with his host. He was the true Teryx, he was...

"...Ohhh gods!" he whimpered.

The feeling arrived as if out of nowhere. It was something which neither the host nor the Commodore had ever experienced before -- and which both of them quickly and simultaneously hoped never to experience again.

It was a mind-crashingly powerful headache, disorienting and vicious, as if someone had gathered up the effects of three or four migraines, attached each of them at random to a hemisphere of his head, and then simply let them thrash about his brain however they pleased.

A bizarre moment of instinct took over. Teryx gacked, sputtered, and glanced with wide and crazy eyes around him.

People. Sidewalk. Too many.

Home.

Home.

Go home.

He must go home. Now. NOW!

Fear-promoting chemistry flooded his brain, from both his own nature and that of the Commodore's integrated systems. Panting, he dropped to all fours to run... and fell flat on his face. Scrambling to his feet again, he managed to get upright and ran digitigrade with his tongue dangling out. He closed his eyes for some portion of the way, because keeping them open hurt too much.

In the urban environment in which he lived, it was hard for passers-by to determine whether Teryx had gone insane, or if he simply had somewhere very important to be and was already several minutes late and a good ways off from his destination. Most people he passed simply didn't pay much notice, being either too distracted on mobile devices or in their own thoughts to notice.

Nevertheless, all of this certainly was an out of the ordinary behavior for him, and also a bizarre new experience for the Commodore. Secondarily, so was the feeling of being so uncoordinated in his use of his body that even unlocking and opening doors became a difficult feat of dexterity.

Regardless, he did it, although his posture had become uncannily similar to that of a shambling zombie by the time he barged into his flat. Then he fell flat onto his bed and shivered, holding his face while making an unbecoming and uncommon kind of groaning noise.

For just about the first time since the Commodore's silent self-installation, Teryx didn't outwardly sound like he was feeling very good.