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It was 3:50 a.m., and the Dragon's Spire nightclub had closed nearly an hour ago. It was the crown jewel of the seventy-story skyscraper it adorned.

As often happened, a quiet rain was falling around the place. A placid drizzle, as if the weather itself was exhausted from the night of partying.

Movement within the penthouse establishment was quiet and methodical: the occasional last clink of a newly found glass, the gradual switching off of most of the club's numerous lights. Along the sidewalk far below, the last stragglers from the night's patronage -- drunk, spent, or otherwise -- were queuing up for busses to head home. Most of the staff had gotten out ahead of them, and only two men remained within.

Within the club's staff-only portion, the knob on the door to Teryx Commodore's office turned silently. A moment later, the door cracked, and a large, friendly brown eye peeked in at him.

"Come on in, Ricky," said Teryx the rain dragon, who until that point had been sitting quietly at his desk. He sounded tired, speaking with a flattened affect at a pitch that was comfortably in the middle of his wide vocal range. The spark of his extraversion seemed to have switched off for the night, or what was left of the night.

"Thank you sir," said Ricky the brown bear, whose voice was deep and whose tone was politely servant-like, as usual. As he gently pushed the door open, he added, "Are you feeling well?"

"Oh, yeah," said Teryx vaguely. "Just thinking." He appreciated his subordinate's stealthiness in checking, just in case he had been poring over a ledger or reading some frustrating government document.

Ricky was the primary bartender for Teryx's nightclub and a long-time companion of the dragon's, to the point that some patrons joked that his role was more akin to that of a butler.

Normally, when Ricky entered the office, Teryx's gaze would be drawn to the bear's neat black bowtie and well-groomed face. Tonight, however, the dragon's eyes were instantly on something else: a spherical object held in a loose cloth rag against the bear's chest. As Ricky approached the desk, the large bear-claw hands unfurled the cloth, until he was able to rest the object gently down on a clear spot toward the front of Teryx's desk. Ricky kept steadying it with one hand even then, as it was so perfectly round that it might easily roll away.

It was an orb. A transparent orb, about the size of a fortune teller's crystal ball. Inside the orb was a continuously swirling mist: white and cloudy, like a low fog. Looking at it would have felt surreal at any hour of the day, let alone at four in the morning after a late Friday service.

"Do you happen to know if this belongs to any of tonight's patrons?" inquired Ricky.

Teryx had been quite social with the night's guests, as usual, but he did not recall seeing anything of this sort. "No. Where did you find it?"

"Left behind in a corner of the barroom, as if it had rolled away under the booth seat there and been forgotten."

While Ricky spoke, Teryx gently thumped the orb with a finger and then slowly ran the same digit along its surface. Whatever material this was made of, it wasn't regular-old glass... and touching it made him feel a strange sensation. A specific, rare hum of energy in his fingertip that slowly spread inward along his hand before fading back to normal.

This object... was magical.

Seeing that Teryx had an unnerved, difficult-to-read expression, Ricky added, "I thought perhaps it was some sort of fortune-telling prop that had been kicked away by accident."

"It definitely isn't from tonight," said the bemused Teryx, while temporarily keeping his hands off the orb. "I'm trying to remember if we had anyone else in recently who..."

"Forgive me for troubling you with it, sir," interjected Ricky. "I can take it to our little lost-and-found closet."

Teryx detached himself from the situation and forced himself to act less interested than he was: "Hmm, no... please leave it here for now."

"Sure thing, sir." He let go of the orb as Teryx took careful hold of it and lifted it to examine it more closely. Then, with a small salute: "I'll get back to closing up."

* * *

Rain had begun to fall a few minutes later as Teryx silently debated what to do with this thing. He could hear the occasional sounds of Ricky tidying up in the floor below him. It wouldn't be long before the bear would head home.

Magical orb.

Teryx tapped his fingerclaws lightly on the desk, idly mimicking the rhythm of the pattering rain sounds.

He did not particularly like encountering magic items. He preferred his life straightforward and orderly -- for instance, by himself being one of the only magically attuned thing or creature involved in his day to day living. It wasn't as if his own arcane capabilities as a modern, far-descended anthropomorphic rain dragon were all that potent anyway, compared to what the old legends used to claim dragons could do. Dropping an ocean on people's heads -- things like that.

Teryx squinted at the thing. Mists and inscrutability.

He really, really wanted to touch it again. A wordless inner voice was nudging him from his subconscious. The voice of his sense of adventure, and his impetuousness.

He was totally going to do it, wasn't he? Shouldn't he save himself the time and the stewing and just pick it up now?

His boring, wiser self warned him that magical objects were serious business.

His sense of adventure reminded him that he claimed to be "the best rain dragon," and that it wasn't very "best" of him to be afraid of a round transparent rock.

His wiser self reminded him that this "round transparent rock" might be a legitimate dragon pearl of some sort.

His sense of adventure told him to pick that silly orb up and show it who was boss.

Teryx picked up the orb, because it was far too late at night to let himself get caught in a mental war-loop between his narcissism and his prudence. Besides, he already touched the thing before, and it didn't seem to be giving off that much energy. What was the worst that could--

Teryx's dangerous thought was interrupted by a glimpse of... something, in the mists of the orb. It looked kind of like a shadow.

He cupped the orb in both hands and lifted it near his face. He gazed deeply into the orb, trying to see whether there was anything moving in the mist after all. He kept... seeing a glimpse of a shadowy figure.

Teryx adjusted the intensity of the lamp that hung from the wall above his desk. He wanted a little more light. He then pressed his face against it, the bridge of his snout angling down along the orb's lower curve while his eyes lingered millimeters away from the surface.

At this distance, he grew surer of of something else that he had suspected since he tried thumping it: the orb was not hollow. Whatever it was -- whatever had these "mists" inside of it -- it seemed to be one solid substance. Which meant the mists might not be mists at all, but rather some sort of image projected within the material.

Another flicker of shadow. This one... a draconic head. Quite familiarly shaped, in fact. It looked quite similar... to himself.

Teryx's head pulled away in alarm for a moment -- and then his logic caught up to him. Grumpily, he scooted his chair to change his angle, so that his face would be positioned in profile relative to the light source. His analytical side was concerned, perhaps justifiably, that he may have cast a momentary shadow on the orb by leaning too much in the way of the lamp's light. If he saw a shadow again while positioned like this, then it would actually mean something.

So he stared. The mists kept swirling, with no more shadowy glimpses for now.

Then, he heard a voice. It was quiet. It sounded... eerily similar to his own, albeit deeper and wilder.

"Your shadow is always cast somewhere, Rain."

Teryx gasped but did not pull away. His gaze fixated harder in something like predatory instinct. He glared at the mists, as if he might pounce on any figure which showed up within them.

"Your half-hearted attempts to mitigate your pride are about to come to an end, Rain. You cannot stop the coming Storm."

As the voice spoke the final sentence, Teryx glimpsed the shadowy image of the presumed speaker within the mists. It was a waist-up view... fundamentally of the same bodily structure as himself, but with larger and more chiseled muscles compared to his usual athletic tone... and with a mane that had a distinctly spiky arrangement to it, rather than the flowing and well-combed way that he usually styled it.

For just a moment, he saw a portion of face clearly as it seemed to lean toward him. His own golden eyes... but wild and malevolent, the way he might look during a fight when about to strike. The fur around the eyes was the lighter blue normally associated with his cheeks, neck, and lower. Shocks of white fluff adorned the far side of each cheek, and accented each of his brows... both places where his face normally looked darker and more plain.

That was as far as Teryx got to examine for the moment.

There was an all-consuming flash of lightning and a peal of thunder. Teryx's ears rang, and his vision whited out, even as he slammed his eyes shut and pressed the orb down into the rag. For a few seconds, he heard a cacophony of torrential rains and some ongoing, distant thunderclaps.

When Teryx's vision normalized a short time later, he felt ready to fight. That mixture of nervousness and whimsy, which had crept into his mood upon first seeing the orb, had vanished entirely. Now, there was only anger, and the seriousness that an adrenaline rush usually brought on. His heartbeat was a war drum. He felt both imperiled and insulted, like he imagined he would feel if someone broke into his apartment while he slept there.

He stood up and looked down with disgust at the orb. He heard the rain pattering behind him, but he didn't process it for what it was. He assumed there might be another bolt of lightning nearby at any moment, and the anticipation kept him on edge. It was enough to make him tug at the collar of his white shirt... he should get out of this stifling thing as soon as possible.

"Seems like it's your element outside this morning," remarked Ricky playfully after he peeked into the room again a moment later.

"Yeah, all except that lightning," muttered Teryx. He was still rattled enough that he wasn't checking his words as much as usual before speaking. His eyes did not leave the orb, although he had obscured it fully using the rag and could no longer see the mists.

Ricky had heard him clearly but looked perplexed while entering the room. "What lightning, sir? It's been pattering calmly the whole time that I cleaned up."

Teryx glanced in Ricky's direction. During the moment's pause that followed, his brain caught up to the social context of the situation.

The rain dragon settled into a more confident stance and chuckled. "Ahh, nothing~"

It was enough for Ricky to raise a brow, but the possibility of questioning ended there as Teryx approached him for a firm embrace -- mostly a platonic one, although a subtext of sexual attraction was definitely there. Their frequent bouts of casual after-work sex over the years had seen to that.

"Heading out for the night?" asked Teryx as he released Ricky from the hug.

"Yes sir!" Ricky scratched thoughtfully at his own right cheek. "I think I'll be sleeping in until noon or so."

"Well, don't go hibernating on me," Teryx teased. "I need you for Saturday night too."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" said the bear.

"Precisely, don't keep dreaming and end up late on me!"

The two of them laughed about it. It was an ongoing friendly gag between them about a single incident years ago when Ricky had been tardy to work because of sleeping too long next to Teryx after one of their more thorough romps of pleasure together. The two had jabbed each other about it on various occasions; Ricky for his part had occasionally termed it, "The night we didn't open on time on account of exhaustion after some very in-depth paperwork," a phrasing which landed squarely between innuendo and lying to save face.

All of these pleasantries aside, the reality was that Teryx did not currently want to let Ricky go home, but he had no idea how to articulate this feeling on short notice. Dread, on the level of what was currently bouncing around his subconscious, was not an emotion that Teryx commonly felt at all. Insecurity, sure; wounded pride, definitely. Not dread. Dread was for normal people who were less intelligent or less athletic than himself. What did he have to fear from anything, as precise and as skilled as he was?

At least, that was normally how his defenses would rationalize it. Right now, those defenses were more-or-less cooked. It took all of Teryx's effort to keep up the social mask long enough to say the rest of this goodbye.

"See you at sundown," said the rain dragon with perfect professionalism while giving a big smile.

The bear waved a hand in silent assent before nodding and turning to leave. "Rest well, sir!"

Thu-clunk. Ricky shut the office door as he left, leaving Teryx in the quiet, low-lit room with the patter of the rain as the only variation in sound. The dragon watched from his streetside window as Ricky exited the building and headed off down the sidewalk, toward his home a few blocks away.

Teryx, agitated, immediately glared down at the orb. Part of him wanted to throw the thing against the wall and be done with it. Then again, knowing his luck, it would be made of a material sturdy enough that it would win and the wall would lose.

He deliberated. His hand was quivering.

He growled.

"Fine. Let's go, weird orb creature." At least it had picked a handsome person to mimic.

Pulling back the rag, he steeled himself for any more mocking voices or flashing lights that might occur. The orb had only mists within it now, but Teryx expected that it would change if he watched it closely as he had done before.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked, forcing enough assertiveness not to sound bewildered.

There was no response from the earlier voice... which apparently was only in his head in the first place, if the thunder was too.

Teryx watched. For several minutes. It did not change. The intensity of Teryx's stare varied, but he still did not take his eyes off the orb. It didn't take long before that started to feel a little fatiguing on the eyelids, and he blinked more often than usual.

Poor Ricky... the bear probably left thinking that Teryx was engaging in some kind of super-secret examination of the orb using some kind of highly ritualized dragon magic. Teryx never had the heart to tell him that the bit of magic he did was more intuitive than anything, even if he sometimes dressed it up in a big show for others. He doubly didn't have the heart to admit -- not even to himself -- that he felt out of his depth at the moment.

Teryx put the random thought of Ricky aside and tried to refocus. It was like a meditation exercise, he now told himself; this orb would be his mandala. He soon literally treated it that way, replacing his desk chair with a large stool from the corner and resting his shins flat atop it while he kept his back straight. He breathed deeply, making sure he wasn't overtaxing any part of his body... and watched, lightly resting the orb between his fingertips. He wanted to be able to feel it if the magical aura of the item shifted.

The mists continued whirling, but the orb betrayed no more information. No tingling shifts against his touch.

This went on, infuriatingly, for some minutes more. Whatever this orb was capable of doing, Teryx was determined to catch it in the act again... but he didn't keep that intention too firmly in mind for long. His focus waned, and he began to doubt that he would see anything else. Some part of him, perhaps, doubted he had even seen anything in the first place.

His mind wandered from pursuit to novelty. Perhaps he should relax a little and enjoy the fact such a curious object had shown up in his establishment at all. Indeed, perhaps he should relax regardless; recent weeks had been fun, but not without their stresses. What would it hurt to let himself watch this thing for a while, as a calm observer? He owed it to himself.

Soon, the pattern of the mists themselves began to engross him, with his eyes following little sections of them as they fluxed and changed. Idly, he imagined a shape here or there, in the same way that one might imagine shapes in the clouds outdoors. Here he saw a waving flag; there, he eyed the wide entrance to a cavern. Inside the cavern would be gold, jewels... perhaps artifacts made of jade or lapis. A statuette or two in his image, their maws fiercely parted like shrine guardians? Wouldn't that make for quite an office -- a cavern off in a forest or jungle somewhere, away from the city, where one could curl up for months at a time and give the whole world the cold shoulder while it sought one out, only to emerge suddenly on a whim and express one's power like any true force of nature always did.

That was how all of the European dragons seemed to play up their ancestry, so why not him too? Why not indeed? He could be a powerful beast, big enough to sit upon a village and have it crumble beneath his haunches. His tail would sweep mortals from the streets. His every breath would change the weather, call up and dismiss storms, and he could lord his power over every person he encountered. He could force them to schmooze with him, compliment him, give him tribute, perhaps demand a virgin or two of them. Male virgins, probably; his limited experience with women had taught him that he probably didn't want to play with inexperienced women... ah, but then he had to imagine men and women alike worshiping his body a bit, fawning at his larger and wilder mane, caressing his choice spots and following his guidance to make him feel good. Wasn't that what any self-respecting dragon deserved, after all? To make lesser beings see him for the treasure and worthy master that he was?

He hadn't noticed when his imaginings transitioned from being in his mind's eye, to being vividly reflected among the misty flows of the orb. Nevertheless, when he paused in reflection upon those two questions, he could not escape seeing the orb's depiction of a hoard of gold and jewels, heaped up in what seemed like the shiniest and most alluring arrangement that any dragon could have concocted.

Then Teryx did something that he didn't do too often, outside of sex.

He growled. Not a playful growl, but a real growl. A jealous growl. A "this is mine and anyone encroaching upon it will die in a flash of fangs and claws" growl.

In his trance, he felt an overwhelming instinct to prove the orb belonged to him. To safeguard it. To keep it.

A lower, guttural rumble lingered in his throat. For just a moment, he looked at it much as he might look at... food.

Teryx's jaws dropped wide and he lunged forward, supporting his weight on his hands against the desk while he snapped up the orb. It clattered harmlessly against his teeth -- felt smooth and warm upon his tongue. He pushed himself upright and gulped it down with relish, eagerly pulling the orb...

Into...?

...His body?

Something wasn't right.

Teryx's hands reached up and felt at his neck. The orb-shaped bulge was stuck there. Within his throat.

A sense of panic set in immediately as he realized his breathing was blocked. He began gulping around the orb harder, the muscles of his neck straining as the bulge wobbled. A single beading tear formed at the corner of each eye as he clawed and pressed along the blockage.

Then a strange, warming feeling came over him. As if lubricated by an unknown source, the orb abruptly slipped down into his esophagus... which stretched painlessly to take it, and somehow let the orb plop straight down into his belly. He felt it land in his stomach, momentarily making his insides quiver.

"Huaaah..."

Teryx rubbed at his forehead in confusion as he caught his breath and felt the strange heat of the orb inside him.

Looking down at himself, he noticed a pale golden glow beneath the fabric of his shirt. For some reason this didn't terrify him. It incited powerful curiosity and a strange intuition that he ought to know what this thing was.

Undoing and removing the garment, he got a look at the light. It was only a slight glow through the belly scales, but it was definitely present.

Then the warmth spread downward, soothing across his midriff and prompting him to rub at his own abs a bit to enjoy the nice feeling more fully. He felt a bit vexed by this, more acutely aware than usual of the difference between his logic and his instincts. His instincts seemed stronger than usual in the total balance of how his mind operated... probably because he had just gone through such a bizarre series of frights.

When the warmth reached his groin, however, his understanding of his instincts' strength reached a whole new level. He felt a sudden, incredible need for sex, as if he had avoided any erotic expression for weeks. The dull ache, that special heat which could only lead to risque flirtations or an erect and ready cock... or both...

He found himself immediately taken with a smattering of sexual fantasies, and he let one hand work itself into his pants to try to massage away the sensation's intensity. The slightest touch along his shaft or caress of his balls made him feel as if fire was spreading along his nerves, the intensity almost painful.

He felt his erection plumping up as he imagined all of the night's patrons naked and bent over the bar for him while he went along behind them with scrutiny and verbally rated the quality of their backsack presentations. Before he realized what he was doing, he was pulling his pants down and off, freeing his cock from its tent and letting its increasingly rigid form slip free.

He had always regarded his penis as a thing of artistic perfection. Whatever character flaws Teryx himself might be said to have, he believed those ended where his erection began. Big, but not dangerously too big; girthy, yet with the slightest taper to make penetration gradual and enjoyable. Tipped like a cross between a spade and a spear, the glans serving the austere and therapeutic purpose of pushing his partner open, giving way to a slender frenulum before the meaty shaft and its ridged lower section made their entrance known. Imagining people fawning over it wasn't difficult for Teryx, because it had happened on more than a few occasions.

Precum was already drooling from it -- amply. A surprising amount for how suddenly the arousal had come on... or at least, it might have been surprising, but Teryx was a little too caught up to care.

He massaged himself as he vividly visualized the patrons... but touching his erection felt like too much right now, so he kept his hands along his thighs and pubic mound at first. Every caress made him feel better and warmer... and amplified his urge to touch the aching rod in between. He knew it was going to feel overwhelming, but his pride told him he could handle it... he could totally handle it. More precum was beading up regardless, his gorgeous member's way of pleading with him for the touch it needed.

After a shaky-handed deliberation, he tried smoothly touching and stroking one finger along the length. A disproportionate spasm of pleasure rushed through him, and a spurt of pre shot out.

His visualized fantasy faltered in a strange way, with mist creeping in at the edges. He didn't notice how short his breath was becoming as he stroked more and more along his shaft, or how much his arms and core were twitching from the excess of pleasure. Each movement prompted another little emission -- spurt after spurt, more and more, the wildfire of his nerves spreading to engulf every part of him.

Teryx opened his eyes... or, he thought he did. The mist of his mental vision was all he could see as his hand kept teasing his shaft. His mind spun; the mist seemed to fade and darken. He thought he could make out the figures of his club patrons again... but blackened and obscured. There was almost... an odd sheen to them.

* * *

That confused imagery was the last thing Teryx could remember when he regained consciousness a short time later.

He was naked and no longer erect.

The heavy mist was everywhere. In his office, outside of his office.

"What in the world...?"

He shakily stood up and stumbled his way out to the club's wooden-floored rooftop. Given the bizarreness of the environment, Teryx doubted if he was awake, but neither could he feel certain that he wasn't.

A single peal of thunder and a golden flash of lightning made him pause as he stepped out. The mists thickened, the wetness of the droplets becoming more vividly felt against Teryx's nude body.

Then, the mists parted. Among them, he saw an outline of someone. A person shaped like himself.

"Rain," said a deep, amused-sounding voice. "Heh, you're here earlier than you were ever meant to be."

Teryx dared to walk closer. Soon he could make out the details, recognizing the man before him as the spikier-maned, muscular dragon from the orb's first round of visuals.

"You know, you look pretty good," admitted Teryx conversationally before folding his arms in defiance, "but I never was one for cryptic nonsense."

The other Teryx snorted and sneered, tipping his snout downward and locking a predatory gaze onto his counterpart. "Not nonsense, Rain. Only memories."

Somehow, the notion that it was memories bothered "Rain" enough that he did not offer up another quip right away. He slipped into a more aggressive posture, while this other Teryx remained unnervingly calm about it all.

"You grew hungry for our own self's power, and you swallowed it right up," said the spiky one. A fiendish smile spread along the edges of his face. "Well, that makes two of us who want it. If you hadn't rushed it, I imagine you would have met him here instead someday... but it seems that poor, easily-tripped-up Rain has succumbed to his impulses as usual~"

"Rain" did not find this line of dialogue easy to follow. Frustratingly, however, he also continued to feel a nagging sense that he should understand more of it than he did. Not dwelling on that, he directed his frustration outward: "You come here to do anything, or are you going to keep yammering on like a bad movie villain?"

"Now, now, Rain. All will be revealed in good time."

Teryx rumbled. "You keep saying 'Rain.' That's like me calling my bartender 'Bear'!"

"Not at all. You are the very essence of Rain, just as I am Storm. Emanations in a cycle, from a singular source. Neither of us is truly Teryx, but both of us would like to be." He tipped his head away toward the endless bank of clouds behind him. "Don't you agree?"

Before "Rain" could answer, there was another round of lightning and a deafening series of thunders. In the sky, between the flashes, he could briefly glimpse the image of a flying feral dragon with many of his same attributes, including the scale colors and the mane. The image was fleeting, but he couldn't shake the apprehension that it was in pain somehow, as if someone had recently put a ballista round through its side. Even so, no wounds were evident.

"I suppose it does not matter," continued Storm when Rain did not speak. "As always happens with us, a Storm will rise and overtake the Rain." He spread his strong arms and took a mocking bow as he reached the word "Rain."

"Rain" felt a surge of anger and darted over to swipe at Storm. His claw-tips raked through the mane toward the neck, but they never made solid contact. The body of Storm dispersed into the mist, as if it had never been anything but that.

Disembodied, the voice said one last thing: "You can observe the weather. You can be part of the weather. You, however, cannot change the weather."

Teryx felt a momentary lapse of awareness. He flinched like someone who had nearly fallen asleep and then woken back up at the last moment. Then, as if it had all been a mirage, the fantastical scene was gone.

He was standing on the rooftop in the late-night darkness... but there were no mists anymore, and no thunderstorm either. There was only a light drizzle of rain, pattering against his bare scales and moistening his mane.

Teryx smiled. He felt vindicated, somehow, as he stepped back into his office to put his clothes on. He hoped that wasn't wishful thinking, and that he wasn't going crazy, and so on.

There was no longer a glow in his belly, and the idea of the orb had entirely slipped his mind. He felt oppressively tired and concluded that he needed to get some sleep in order to be fresh for the following night.

He decided to sleep in his office. It was the only sensible thing to do, as late as it now was. The quiet sound of the rain would be the perfect white noise to give him a relaxing snooze.

* * *

When he awoke the following morning, Teryx was not well. Bodily, he was entirely fine, but mentally and emotionally? Something was off.

He rose slowly and groggily, feeling as if he had already spent hours upon hours dealing with frustrating, petty people who did not respect him as much as they should. In an unusual turn, he fancied the idea of punching something for the enjoyment of it -- or not merely punching, but perhaps clawing and gnawing at it as well. Idly, he imagined doing as much to a humanoid-shaped training dummy at a dojo -- tipping it over, pinning it down, and "dominating" it. It was such a pointlessly aggressive image that it might've been comical if he thought of it in a better mood.

None of this was because of any discomfort over sleeping in his office; he did that often enough.

As it was, he sat up and rubbed his forehead, trying to get his thoughts to clear up and focus. He had plenty still to do, himself, before the next opening tonight.

His morning routine was rife with unusual anxieties. The sound of running water put him on edge; an unexpected thud from a piece of machinery on the street outside made him jump as if a thunderclap had occurred close by. He felt exposed, as if someone was laughing derisively at him, even though he heard no voice.

He fried some eggs for breakfast in the club's kitchen, and the sizzling of the protein within the oils reminded him of the sound of a downpour. It made him smile and relax a little as he thought about it... though he got so engrossed in considering the sound that he overcooked the eggs a little. Not to the point of being inedible, but enough that they were far from the perfected way he normally prepared them. He was also a little late getting the toast started. Everything was a little out of sync. Regardless, he chomped down the warm comfort food as if he had been starving.

From there, things seemed to go better for him for a while. He had no trouble preparing himself to head out for the handful of activities and errands that he needed to run. Indeed, he started to feel more and more energetic as he went out into the city and saw everyone around. His first bus ride was invigorating: rather than spending much of it reading or sending messages on his phone, he spent the whole trip looking at other passengers and imagining things about them or judging them based on outward signals: businessman, working mom, single dad, lady slut, man slut.

Then the weather shifted. A drizzling rain put him on edge, when he normally would've found it quite refreshing. The clouds rolling in were awfully dark considering how light the precipitation was. He remembered the "dream" episode from last night and felt his heart rate spiking from panic.

He peeled his eyes off the sky and refocused, heading into the building where he would be briefly talking with his financial agent about some small adjustments to his independent retirement account. It was the most mundane and boring thing in the world but nevertheless something he had wanted to do in person rather than over the phone. It went as Teryx would have expected, though he found himself feeling especially impatient anytime his agent disagreed with the wisdom of one of his ideas. It took great effort to hold back and not bark at him to just do it.

Still, he got through it, and he was confident that he could. He had gone through plenty of bad days before, and this one should be no different.

The rain grew heavier as he walked a few blocks down to drop in at an office of one of the club's suppliers. Usually he would have handled that over the phone, but he was in the area, so why not? He put in a few adjustments to the types of amounts of alcohol that he would be keeping in stock and allowed himself to be sold on stocking some new brand of imported plum wine that had a lightning bolt and storm clouds on the label. He didn't even particularly like plum wine over other drinks, but he felt compelled to try a batch after seeing it.

Then on his way back out, something much weirder happened. The rain had turned to a downpour, and he saw a flash of lightning through a large window as he was making his way back to the elevator. The thunderous report happened less than a second later -- the bolt must've happened relatively close by -- but that wasn't what spooked him.

In the glass, set against the flash, Teryx could've sworn he had seen a shadowy image of himself. He was in no way blocking the light in a way that could've caused the image. He did a double take and went over to the window, diverting from his path in order to reach out and gently touch it with one claw-tip.

He felt a sense of dread come over him. Then there was another flash. For its split-second duration, Teryx's vision went white, except for a clear and malevolently grinning image of Storm from the night prior. The image was already fading when he heard, as clearly as if someone was standing beside him, a cacophonous noise like the sound of multiple voices speaking over one another. He heard the words "overtake" and "rain" from a few of them, while most of the rest were laughing or chuckling in different ways.

Teryx recoiled in terror, nearly falling over backwards as he pulled away from the confusing rush of sight and sound. He heard the thunderclap fading into the distance as the speaking voices died down. There was only the quiet chuckling now, still ongoing as an endless patter of derision.

Then he remembered he was listening to the sound of heavy rain. He stopped hearing it as chuckles and simply heard it thumping against the window panes.

Teryx felt of his own forehead. To his chagrin, he did not appear to have a fever.

He forlornly made his way back to the elevator, seriously wondering for a moment if he should set up an appointment with a therapist or something. He hadn't been under any especially great stress lately, but perhaps the sheer monotony of a productive adult life was grating on him -- slowly chipping away at his sanity?

He sighed and squeezed at his wallet like it was a stress ball. Then he realized he was doing it too hard and dialed back the force a bit. No sense in squeezing his cards into unusable lumps.

Then, a crude but honest thought floated through his mind.

He was Teryx Commodore. He didn't need a therapist. What he needed was for some interesting new guy to suck his dick a bit and then offer up a tight ass for some fun.

He was seldom quite this candid with himself, but this bout of frankness -- from what he supposed was merely his subconscious -- made him smile. In a world where everyone disappointed him sometimes, he could always count on himself to do what he did best: bring the party to life.

Admittedly, he felt that he could count on Ricky, too. He could pretty much rely on that adorable bear for anything. Ricky was his rock. Maybe he'd be able to run what happened by him and get an opinion before the club opened up again tonight?

Whatever. Teryx took a moment to neaten up his shirt a bit better as he rode the elevator back down to the street.

* * *

Despite his reclaimed confidence, the remainder of Teryx's day kept getting weirder. Every now and then, he would see something dark-bluish in a crowd and swear he had just seen Storm again. Sounds -- especially boomy ones or chattery ones such as the sounds of televisions or online videos -- were increasingly likely to trick him into thinking he was hearing Storm's voice.

Teryx's mood became stilted. On the one hand, he felt endlessly confident -- egotistical beyond his norm; on the other, he had less and less of the tact that usually accompanied it. He wanted people to get out of his way; didn't they know who he was? He wanted the busses to go faster. He wanted the umbrella-toting masses around him to stop looking at him like he was weird for enjoying feeling the downpour on his head. He had a change of clothes waiting for him back at the club anyway -- and it wasn't like he was going to be wearing much at the adults only male mixer party tonight -- so they could suck it for all he cared.

Ricky was already in and waiting for him.

"Living up to your reputation I see," commented the bear as Teryx stripped from the soaked garments.

"I am the best rain dragon," Teryx replied.

Ricky did not resist the urge to feel him up a bit -- moisture always had a way of bringing out the definition and smoothness of Teryx's chest -- and Teryx responded by aggressively hugging and kissing him in a way the bear wasn't quite fully prepared for. Not that he was complaining!

"Oh my~" said Ricky after they broke the kiss off. "Sir, you are getting revved up awfully early for tonight."

Teryx grinned. "Doesn't matter, this engine can run all night and will be purring like a kitten the whole way."

"Mmm, I think it's more likely you'll leave kitties purring. I know how you are with the felines, and we have several on our guest list. I noticed you didn't yet circle one of them as your mark the way you sometimes do."

"Lots of new names in the RSVP this time," said Teryx as he got fully naked and toweled off. "Wouldn't be right of me as a host to settle on one in particular before we've met."

"And I don't suppose you'll be attempting any strange 'dragon ritual magic' before the party starts."

The phrase had been said tongue-in-cheek. Ricky had never quite come out and said whether he believed Teryx's supposed powers were anything more than him somehow taking advantage of natural variance, and Teryx had never forced the issue. It was a widely believed superstition that people of dragon ancestry had unusual effects on their environments -- Teryx for instance believed, and at times appeared more than capable of proving, that he could coax clouds to rain, or enhance a relaxed or lustful atmosphere within a crowded room, merely by willing the desired outcome from a position of meditative focus -- but it was hard for even the rain dragon to swallow some of the taller tales of feats supposedly caused by dragon sorcerers of old. That reasonable degree of skepticism, which he supposed he shared with Ricky, was part of why Teryx had not assumed that every consequence of last night's "vision" had some sort of arcane cause.

"Oh, nah," replied Teryx, successfully hiding how much tension he was feeling about the topic right now. He slipped his bulgy, half-extruded cock into a tight and suggestive pair of expensive black briefs as he put them on. "Tonight'll be magical enough as it is."

It occurred to Teryx that it was actually odd for him to feel that way. The orb... was definitely real, wasn't it? Ricky had literally handed him the thing.

"What about that orb, sir?" asked the bear, as if right on cue.

Teryx's tension showed itself a bit more obviously in his body language. His maw hung in an about-to-speak pose without quite getting a word out right away. "Yeah, the orb is fine. I know whose it is and I'll get it back to them."

"Quite good. Well?"

Ricky was... ogling him. Tilting the fuzzy bear-head a bit as if waiting for Teryx to lunge in for another kiss.

Teryx obliged but didn't go as far with it this time. This suited Ricky, who reached around and stroked fondly along the top of the dragon's tail.

After they broke off and breathed, Ricky held both of Teryx's hands and playfully said, "Thank you, sir. I do believe you have revved me up for tonight as well."

Teryx laughed. "Yep, let's finish getting this place clean and in order, so we can make it dirty and a mess again."

"Right on!" laughed the bear.

* * *

Things felt normal enough again, for a time. Prep work for the evening service went as smoothly and efficiently as always, and Teryx felt uplifted by the ongoing rain, which had become somewhat lighter again.

Silently to himself, Teryx re-acknowledged that he had in fact swallowed a real, physical orb... which appeared to have well and truly disappeared into the ether thereafter, given his total lack of digestive consequences. His stomach didn't even feel heavier than usual, nor did he feel anything odd if he poked himself there.

Darn it. He should've taken part of the afternoon to brush up on his knowledge of magic orbs. He felt robbed, as if someone had stolen the importance of that topic during his sleep and prevented him from remembering to think about it until Ricky brought it up again.

When it was almost opening time, Teryx scrubbed at his personal drinking glass until it shined. While not a magical ritual, it was a personal ritual for him: a way of finding his zen right before presenting himself to the crowd of horny, carousing men he would be hosting for the evening.

Toward the end of the polishing, he could've sworn he saw Storm again, grinning in the reflection caused by an overhead light's glare.

"I'm already here, Rain."

Teryx gasped and whirled around, almost dropping the glass.

No one. Even Ricky was in a different room. The sound must've been in his head, but it sounded like it came from behind and all around him...

Teryx clutched one hand against his midsection and glanced from side to side. It was like an instinctive response, as if he needed to protect what was in his belly from someone else. However, from a more ordinary point of view that didn't make much sense, given that there was obviously no object in his stomach, and no person around either.

Then Teryx felt the slightest flicker of warmth inside of himself, and a sense of that same aura he had felt from the orb last night. He could feel it through his torso, the energy of it warming his hand.

Teryx felt a calming sense of oneness with the rain. It was a feeling that he normally only achieved after being in a deep meditation for some time, but now it rushed through him like a defense against whatever was ailing him.

"...Go away," he muttered to himself a few seconds later, as he settled back into an ordinary posture and finished polishing the glass.

Through the drizzle outside, Teryx thought he might've heard another quiet "Heheheh" sound, but he refused to acknowledge it for now.

* * *

Saturday nights at the Dragon's Spire were widely understood to be the prime night for mingling for the sake of sex, because they almost never included guest musicians or dancers and would instead feature activities that heavily emphasized "mature" interactions among the patrons themselves. Past events had included activities like multi-table strip poker tournaments (slogan: "For love, not money!"), a massive game of spin the bottle using a centuries-old wine bottle (which Teryx had assured everyone was "cursed" to ensure that anyone who participated would get laid by the time the night was over -- an assertion which had proved perplexingly true), and a diabolically delicious event known only as "The Gloryhole Game." Occasionally, Teryx would throw his own hat and/or underpants into the ring for such antics, offering himself as a competitor, a prize, or both -- and the tales of what had happened between Teryx and some of his lucky winners had become the stuff of cock-teasing legend within the local scene.

The doors technically opened three hours before any of the real fun was expected to start. As was typical for Saturday, the inflow of patrons tonight was not steady. There were only a trickle of arrivals at first -- a handful of long-timers who had been there every weekend for years and years, all of whom knew the club's culture and in-jokes. Thankfully, most of these early arrivers were not the hanger-on types -- merely dependable patrons who enjoyed the cult of personality that Teryx inexorably drew in. Teryx generally felt at ease when greeting them and would speak briefly of past nights, as well as occasionally discussing any planned special activities. Today was no exception, and this passed as normal without that presence from earlier bothering him.

Then there was the rush. From around eight o'clock to nine o'clock, they started pouring in: men from all around the city, from all walks of life. Granted, the majority were white-collar businesspeople in high-stress jobs, since that was a demographic which Teryx's tastes and attitudes served well. Most were single; some were married. Of the latter group, shockingly few of them kept their involvement a secret from their spouses; Teryx had a way of coaxing people into transparency, and on at least one occasion he had helped talk a reluctant wife into being more at peace with her hubby's intermittent desire for dick.

As was his custom, Teryx did the honors of transforming the club's lighting from ordinary to atmospheric. The generic overhead lighting went off, replaced by the warmer mood-lighting of the tinted light-globes which hung over the main bar area and over the large booths in the side corridors. Tiny strings of smaller, yellower bulbs outlined the walls and ceilings, their many points of faint illumination serving to soothe the eyes as one sipped at a drink and stared out over the crowd.

Most of the club's furniture used leather upholstery in a desaturated red color, alongside pristine dark wooden surfaces for the tables, dividers, and counters. The walls used an even softer reddish-brown tone, backgrounding the two more dominant shades. In normal lighting, it all looked suitably perky and lively... but under the mood lighting, it could be said that the place took on the colors of an erection: sensuous, warm, in search of a swollen and pleasurable relaxation. The floor's grayish-blue carpet scheme -- normally a nice complement to Teryx's scales -- took on a subtle, pale-purple urgency.

There were no special activities planned for tonight. This Saturday was, in a manner of speaking, a "free for all," and everyone involved knew it. The boyfriend pairs and orgiastic groups who had paid for private booths began making out almost immediately when the lighting changed over, even as they also began buzzing the bar for additional drink orders. In the main bar area, the changeover obscured wandering hands and feet, as prospective partners reached out to explore one another.

Ricky mixed drinks at a pace that could only come with experience, and the supporting staff made their final checks of the reserved seating list and entered the data into the club's records.

Teryx smiled. Over the din of conversation, he could hear the rising volume a heavier nighttime rain. It was going to be a very fun night; he felt sure of that much.

For a fleeting but blissful few minutes, his earlier odd experiences seemed as far away as the highest tops of the puffiest clouds.

* * *

It was only after the club was packed with men -- with the lights shifted over to herald the approach of pleasurable times, and all of this glorious excitement building -- that the presence stalking Teryx became more overt.

Orca, male, thirties. Muscular and thick, probably has a big dick. Probably worth bedding to find out. Out of your weight class; subdue him with charms first so you control the encounter.

This was the head-voice's response to Teryx laying eyes contemplatively on one of the newcomers in the main barroom. It was an accurate description, and in some ways a representation of what Teryx's own darker side might naturally feel about the man. He certainly had an aspect that was oriented toward sexual conquest, even at the expense of objectifying others and sometimes himself; he knew that quite well. What wasn't normal was for it to be talking at him unbidden in the free and open space of his conscious mind.

Teryx -- wearing only those briefs and a bowtie, and currently sitting on a stool at one end of Ricky's bar -- wondered whether this commentary was a one-off quirk or something that would be repeated. He tried looking at someone else, another newcomer at the same table in the main barroom.

Porpoise, male, probably late twenties. Shockingly thin in a bad way; not sure how he manages to hang around the orca. Kinda ugly. Probably not worth fucking, but keep options open in case it turns out there's something interesting about him. If fucking, go easy; too flimsy and breakable for more than that.

Sighing a bit at the pattern he was already sensing, Teryx tried one more time, moving his gaze to Ricky instead.

Ricky the "beartender." Everyone who doesn't know him thinks he's a top. Everyone who does know him is entirely aware that your dick goes in him on a regular basis. His ass is warm and fuzzy. An asset to be protected at all reasonable costs.

Teryx rolled his eyes. He found someone else, whom he thought he recognized, but he couldn't recall the name offhand.

Linus Carlson, skunk businessman. Looks like a twink bottom but is in fact a hard dom. Avoid; he doesn't understand switchy people like you.

The way the voice was "helpfully" advising him put Teryx ill at ease. This was definitely still the voice of "Storm" from the vision that he had the previous night, but he wasn't being adversarial as such.

Teryx tried thinking back at it: This split personality stuff is happening 'cause I ate that orb, isn't it.

Teryx waited, but the voice did not reply. In fact, for the time being, it stopped saying anything at all.

After it continued to remain silent through Teryx scanning more of the room, he added, Well then... good riddance to ya!

Still no response. Teryx supposed that would have to be that for the time being. He had Ricky make him a fruity, lightly alcoholic mixed drink and sipped at it cozily while the night unfolded around him.

Minutes passed. The place got noisy here and there, but Teryx initially tried to ignore it and let the social pressure provided by his regular customers take care of it. He kept hearing some kind of yowly, mrowly sound that didn't sound pleasant and wondered if he was going to have to get up and check on it himself. When his drink was down to half, he found himself being approached by Ricky directly.

"Sir, we've got a wild one."

"Newcomer?"

"Sadly, no. You've seen him before. Black panther with red eyes, came here two weeks back as well, and again two weeks before that. Private booth with two of his friends."

"Oh, that guy." Teryx laughed. The patron in question had seemed somewhere between a secret admirer of Teryx's and a general-purpose asshole. "He ranting about me again?"

"Not only you, but yes. He's complaining I'm not serving him drinks fast enough. I believe everyone has explained to him that sitting in his booth wishing I would bring him a drink and yelling vaguely about it every few minutes is not how this works. Shall I call a bouncer or do you want to bounce him yourself?"

"Heh, well, maybe..."

"I hesitate to ask it," continued Ricky. "He frankly seems like someone who would enjoy being bounced by you."

Teryx shrugged. "Sometimes I don't mind giving the people what they want."

"I'm aware, sir. Either way, I'll leave you to it. I have orders to fill."

Teryx nodded and stood up. He quickly decided it was time to pay that private booth a visit.

* * *

One of Teryx's charismatic qualities was being blessed with a voice that could swing pretty far between baritone and tenor without stress. He could sound one-thousand-percent plain and serious in one sentence and then credibly raise his pitch to infuse the conversation with sass a moment later, without ever sounding like he was straining. His speech was animated and sometimes stingingly direct, and people liked that about him, particularly in the adult male clubbing scene.

Tonight wouldn't be the first time that a rowdy patron had engaged in a bit of "dragon baiting," causing a ruckus in the club with the intent of getting Teryx's personal attention, even if that attention was negative. Put simply, this was a thing. So Teryx wasn't as much on his guard against his darker instincts as he might otherwise have been, as he approached the troublemaker's booth.

The panther was yelling about the service being terrible tonight and how Teryx Commodore could suck it. He was also very buzzed -- not smashed, but somewhere within that calculated alcoholic middle ground of being disinhibited enough to try almost anything, while not being so intoxicated as to be incapable of standing.

The panther's two friends in the booth -- a surprisingly lanky lion with a thin mane, and a bespectacled green gecko -- had settled into a continuous state of cringe. When Teryx entered, they both looked pleadingly at him as if he might be their only salvation from the awkwardness their friend was causing.

"You guys should leave us," said Teryx with a wink to the desperate pair. Then, without exactly thinking it through first, he added, "Unless you wanna watch."

The gecko promptly excused himself. The lion... didn't, despite the gecko motioning several times toward him from outside the booth. The most the lion did was to take his drink, stand up, and plod over to the corner, from which he stared severely at the panther while continuing to sip.

"Aww, c'mon Ingo, don't act all judgey, you know this guy -- HEY, HEY!! HEY!!"

Teryx had leaned right down in the panther's face and was nose to nose with him. The cat had gone from loudly lackadaisical to frightened in an instant.

"Species pun not intended, but you really are a bit of a pussy," said Teryx. "Doing your best to ruin everyone else's night until I show up, and now you look ready to cry. Get. It. Together."

He usually wouldn't be quite this demeaning on a first pass, but Teryx was in a different mood than usual tonight. Those eyes-like-hot-coals staring back at him were like food for his soul as he saw the little glimmer of fear in them.

Then... the absurd happened.

This buzzed-ass panther reached right out and grabbed Teryx's bulge through his briefs.

Teryx lashed out -- pushed that filthy paw off of him, grabbed the panther, and shoved him down onto the booth's sofa. An instant later, the groper was pinned.

Teryx's insides felt hot, the warmth from his belly returning and expanding into the rest of him. More than just warmth, he felt an uncanny strength, like he could hoist this man with one arm and not even strain. Play with him like a doll, throw him around.

But what would be the point of that? There was obviously only one thing this panther really wanted.

"H-hey... please don't kick me out of your club, Mr. Commodore," purred the panther in a sudden, albeit subvertedly sassy, show of submission. "I promise I'll be good for you~"

Teryx's bulge was expanding into a tent. "Look me in the eyes and say that again, you little liar."

The dragon's tone had been low and sinister. The panther's neck wriggled a bit as his eyes tried to avoid Teryx's own. Then the dragon grabbed his muzzle and forced the issue, pressing face to face so that their eyes met.

Gazes locked, Teryx commanded him again: "Tell me what you want."

There was a growl of some sort of embarrassment, followed by more wriggling of the panther's extremities while the face remained unable to look away. "I... want you, Teryx," the panther eventually whispered. "I need you inside of me. I need you to fuck me in front of my friends."

Because your self-worth is nonexistent, Teryx lustfully mused. Not to worry... I can make you feel like you're doing the world a valuable service.

Teryx's briefs came down with a few easy motions of his hands. The lion in the corner was bug-eyed and nearly dropped his drink as he watched what unfolded.

"Foolish, loud kitty... daring to wake a dragon," said Teryx as he easily pantsed the man beneath him. "You should know the risks of that!"

"Ahh, yes!" moaned the panther as Teryx's cock pressed up against his taint and jostled his balls. "I've been a bad man, and I need to be put in my place... please!"

Power. Heat. Sureness. All of it was flooding Teryx like a drug. He could feel the panther's will crumbling under his, the drunk and horny body like a puppet to play a part in the dragon's fantasies. True, the panther had wanted this, but whether or not that was the case was now irrelevant to the dragon as he rammed his cock raw into that waiting rear.

"This is what rowdy patrons need," Teryx whispered over him. "A nice missionary pounding in deference to their far-superior host..."

The panther could only babble his agreement.

For several minutes, Teryx lost himself in a blur of lust. Showing off his stamina and sexual ease, he engaged in frequent verbal teasing and derision, even as he hammered away.

"You're only a toy cat for our enjoyment," said Teryx after they had been going for a while. "All this rowdiness has only been your way of asking the master of the premises to put you in your place. Isn't that right, kitty?"

The panther moan-growled his agreement. His rear squeezed hungrily at the intruding cock.

"That's right," repeated the dragon. "Feel every thick inch and every ridge. Feel me taking control and teaching you how to behave."

"MRROOOOW!!"

It was an almost girly outburst this time, despite the panther's physique. His toe claws were twitching, and his arms were flexing desperately as he clung to the sofa for support.

"Cum for me, kitty," the dragon commanded. "No sense trying to act like a tough guy who can hold it."

Those obedient ears took in every word. The panther's back arched as Teryx ploughed across his prostate. The black fur of his belly got streaked with jets of white.

Teryx, for his part, didn't even feel like a quarter of his stamina was done, and kept on going, enjoying the way the panther's pulse pounded and how the submitting rump clenched around him. The lion in the corner had his dick out and was stroking it too -- Good man, thought the dragon -- and it was long and slender much like the rest of him. The gecko returned a few minutes later and shyly watched while developing a bulge of his own.

Teryx almost hadn't noticed that the pattering rain outside had whipped up into a frenzy. Though the booth was windowless, he could hear it hammering against the building.

He looked back again at the observers to see if they were enjoying themselves properly yet. The gecko had taken the lion's empty drink glass for him and was putting it back down on the table nearby. The gecko seemed to go out of his way to put it as close to Teryx as possible, in order to sneak a closer peek of just how thoroughly Teryx was fucking their friend.

Teryx chuckled at this, eying the gecko in a predatory, "You're next!" fashion. "Heheheh... like what you see, men? It's a great night for--"

In the glass, as the gecko pulled away, Teryx saw his reflection in the light.

His face. His markings. The spikier mane, growing in further around the front of his chest...

He did a double take and looked down at himself. The color changes were visibly spreading down him, white lightning-bolt patterns creeping in across his torso while his muscle definition deepened all over...

Thunder boomed nearby. It was enough to startle him into action.

Grunting, Teryx pulled out of the panther -- a little too fast, though his drunk companion did not mind, simply moaning and remaining there like a spent puddle on the sofa. The gecko was getting on his hands and knees nearby, entering some sort of worshipful prostrated posture, while the lion was pressing back so hard against the booth and jerking it so fast that it looked like he was trying to cum before Teryx's eyes were off him again. That tufted tail was really twitching fast, going back and forth...

Hell no, thought Teryx. A tiny, lucid thought within the storm of confusion around it.

Donning his briefs as best he could -- the bulge in them was exceptionally large and lance-like right now -- he bailed from the booth, darting past the patrons he had turned on so thoroughly. He then took the stealthiest route available to him to get back around behind the bar and up to his private office. "Stealthiest" did not mean truly stealthy, however, and he knew he was being seen by at least fifteen people as he passed. Teryx sporting wood that large was not a sight that went easily ignored at his events. More than a few faces seemed disappointed that he wasn't seeking help with it, Ricky's included.

"Fuck," Teryx muttered to himself as he shut the office door behind him and pulled down his briefs again.

Hell... even his cock was different. It had gained slightly in length and become more barrel-like with its girth, but those were the subtler changes. The most graphic difference was that it was developing an extra-thick bulb of flesh along the base: a draconic knot such as he had seen on a handful of others in the past, but which his own pedigree simply did not carry the genes for, or so he had always thought.

Furthermore, now that he was resisting, every luscious inch of it was unbelievably sensitive, just like the night before.

Finish, Rain, the head-voice commanded him.

"No can do," said Teryx aloud.

On the contrary, you'll find not doing so is impossible.

Teryx was afraid, but the fear only made him harder.

Nevertheless, Teryx didn't dignify Storm's comments with a response this time. He went and got a change of tight business clothes and put those on instead... over his thick, uncompromising erection, which forced the pants to bulge to such a lewd degree... though that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was that the cock being trapped in the pants felt good. Every brush. Every slight movement. His nerves would feel and amplify all of it, sending off signals of bliss and telling his brain it was time to cum, time to cum, must cum!! Teryx, however, had a strong suspicion that he shouldn't.

What he wouldn't give to have Ricky on hand right now to tie him up where he couldn't cum on his own. He should've asked him... no, no he shouldn't have. Yes he should have. No. No. Yes.

"NRRGH!!" growled Teryx. "Get out of my head!!"

It was not only his head, however. The heat within him. The changes to his body. He... he had to go look in the mirror.

Wait, what?

The mirror showed his normal self. Perfectly normal Teryx. Everything was fine!

Then, behind him... just a little stronger, handsomer, and more confident...

Storm. Rubbing at his shoulders. Reaching around to caress his bulge. Leaning in and kissing him. He looked at the air where Storm's head should have been and saw nothing... but he could feel this other self's presence nevertheless.

Teryx's jaw had already parted. The kiss felt so real that he could taste Storm's saliva: acrid, intoxicating. He could feel the heaviness against his tongue as Storm lashed inward, lapping all the way to the back of his maw. This ought to have revulsed him... but that taste was sending a strange tingle through his face and neck.

It was a surprise. A twist from the haranguing of earlier, and far more subtle than the rush of raw power that had flooded him recently. Teryx glanced down at himself, noting the Storm-like appearance in the real world, which hadn't faded.

But... which was he? He, Teryx, didn't feel quite like either of them right now... but it was getting harder to think as the sensations increased.

He began to realize... that he needed more of that tongue.

But that wasn't the only need.

In the mirror, Storm's strong hand took hold of his wrist -- guided him smoothly in unzipping his fly, letting his big cock out... and then urging his hand to resume the stroking.

"No, I must not..." he was saying.

"It's okay, Rain~" cooed the voice.

Teryx's hand moved in, palm pressing against the warm shaft. A twitch of his PC muscles made the swelling cock bounce. The image of Storm in the mirror smiled wide over his shoulder.

"Beautiful... aren't we so beautiful?"

Without waiting for an answer, Storm was licking along his neck and then kissing him again. Teryx tasted it strongly: another toxic flavor, almost ashy -- but now mixed with the mild oils and musk along the base of his mane. A self-infatuating flavor if ever there was one.

Teryx looked again at himself in the mirror, himself now looking lust-addled and even shy, tail starting to relax and curl around Storm's ankles as the more forceful personality won him over.

"Go on~" Storm urged, coaxing that wrist insistently toward masturbation.

Storm folded his blue fingers around that shaft... and so his body followed. Jolts of pleasure... seething and tempting. Compelling him for more, more -- which he eagerly gave.

Teryx looked down and saw himself: his lovely toned abs and thick cock, physically transformed and handsomely upgraded... and then he saw his inferior one in the mirror, the smaller cock being massaged perfectly in tandem.

The last bits of resistance were waning as this pleasure increased. Storm seemed to loom larger behind Rain, who seemed to be almost swallowed into him -- back against chest.

Then... Storm's bigger, better cock was pressing up against his tailhole, and Teryx's rear clenched up. He could feel it pressing in... rigid, yet almost slithering, like a sex toy with just enough flexibility to find the ideal angle.

"We are," he whispered, in belated reply to Storm's earlier question.

Teryx's eyes shut, and he felt a momentary lapse of himself, as if he had nearly fallen asleep and then woken abruptly. There was a relentless fire of pleasure in his cock and groin... his hand and hips were moving as if on their own, the urge driving him forward.

He felt something... an immense sense that the world owed him everything, and that this bliss was only the kindling atop a much larger pyre of his life's deserved pleasures. That this was the first of what he was owed.

"Ahhh yes, let the Storm reign, Rain~"

Teryx had said the words without consciously meaning to, but they felt right on his tongue. Their singsong tone hummed within his throat.

More sensations. Thunder outside; lightning in his cock. A feeling like orgasm, but so much more. It felt like everything, every worry and stress, was about to explode in a gush of raw power.

Teryx's eyes panned downward and watched his knotted Storm cock throb in a dry orgasm, the last dam refusing to break under the muddied thumps of dull pleasure.

No. The Rain would not hold him back from his release any longer. He focused his will through the pleasure's haze.

In the mirror, he saw the weakling Rain's legs disappearing, sinking into his. The pull was subtle at first, like a wind causing tree limbs to wobble; then it was abrupt and violent, like the force of a hurricane tugging debris into its spiral.

When the images of their cocks overlapped, it was as if all barriers within his body were opened. One thick blue paw brushed lightly over the fleshy rod, nothing more than a ready conduit for his discharge.

The image of Rain's abdomen tensed one last time as it sank, but the struggle was practically over. The orgasm was starting anew, now entirely on Storm's terms. That familiar, decisive feeling rushed through him, and semen shot forth -- splattering against the mirror and drooling down his reflection. He roared in delight as he took in the strong sensations, admiring the perfection of just how good his body could make him feel. His peak lasted for several seconds, his cock pulsing hotly against his hand with each spurt.

His. All his.

After the ejaculation, Teryx's gaze leveled off again. He laughed spontaneously with pride as his eyes confirmed what his heart already knew.

In the mirror, there were not two dragons any longer. There was only his own rugged face, grinning with glee and triumph.