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As Storm reached the sidewalk outside, he could see that the intensity of his winds and lightning had levelled off -- though only momentarily, perhaps humored by his orgasmic pleasures and amusement. Even so, thunder was already rumbling again in the distance, as yet more clouds churned into existence, broadening the already deep and dark formations. Slowly rotating, the clouds were starting to form a spiral, which held stationary over the city without drifting, despite how harsh the winds were blowing at ground level.

He could feel himself in the air. The charge. The oppression. Everything was continuing to increase in his favor. He could feel it... the raw power of a true, ancient storm dragon was enthroned within him. He would wield it unchecked, as surely no dragon had in many centuries!

Storm, certainly, believed these impressions he had... but even he did not quite know all aspects of his own story. He understood he was a being of magic, true, and that Rain was at best an inferior shadow of his excellence -- foolish enough to rouse him from his beauty sleep, and now paying the price through loss of ownership of this body.

The idea of seeking out more information occurred to him -- vaguely. It was not a priority. Fun came first; finding answers to any deeper questions could come later: at his leisure, with any tedium handled by the army of fawning followers that he would inevitably draw to him.

Certainly, Storm did not currently realize that the answers were about to find him. It was the farthest thing from his mind as he made his way down the street, still enjoying both his afterglow and the "beauty" he had already wrought. Idle thoughts were already beginning to brew -- concoctions about what he might do next. Something involving his superior bear seemed... pertinent. After all, he had such pleasant surprises to offer!

A fast-moving shadow passed over him. Storm glanced upward but saw nothing, save for the returning glare of the overdone streetlights of Harry's neighborhood.

"Remind me to zap you guys next," Storm muttered as he blinked off the afterimages.

He thought no more of it and continued walking. Several seconds later, he heard something: an echoing, soothing voice that seemed to emanate from all around him, as if carried upon the wind.

"No more zapping," said the unknown voice. "It is time for the children to put the dangerous toys away."

Storm's eyes narrowed. A spark of gathered energy formed in his right hand, ready to evoke electricity as soon as he could locate his target.

That, however, proved difficult. The shadow passed over him again, coming from the opposite direction this time. The shape was hard to make out due to the multiple angles of illumination, but it appeared to be a large winged creature. One which, either due to skill or magical stealth, Storm could not currently see. So he stood there, pivoting defensively -- raising hand and baring teeth in warning.

That was about as far as things got before Storm heard an oppressive ringing in his ears and felt all of his sensations going fuzzy. He could feel a burst of magic pouring into his body from above, but he still couldn't zero in on its source.

The shadow passed again. He looked up in frustration as his body went numb, his waning muscle control leading him to sink to his knees before flopping prone.

As he fell, he could see a hazy image of blue scales and broad wings coming into focus above him. Four bestial claws were cupped together beneath the creature, forming a bloom of magical focus.

Then Storm lost it. He slumped and grew increasingly angry at his inability to control himself. The only thing he could feel was the power of the orb, with which he was fidgeting aggressively to try to restore sensation to his body and break free of whatever his defier had done to him. Whoever it was, they would rue the day that--

--it occurred to Storm that the ground was rapidly disappearing below him. He was being hoisted up, the beast's two front claws having grabbed him by the shoulders. They had a semi-dextrous grip to them -- not as fully flexible as the hands and arms of an anthro, but far more useful for manipulation than the paws of a feral dog or cat.

"Let's go home and have a talk," said the echoing voice, cheerfully, as the ringing in Storm's mind began to fade.

In what seemed a matter of seconds, the numerous stories of the building faded away beneath them. They were high above the city, flying so quickly that it seemed they were part of the wind itself -- with all the gusty force that the storm had granted to it.

With his attempts to break free ongoing all the while, Storm was just getting to the point that he could wiggle his fingertips when he saw the familiar door of his penthouse come into view. The beast dropped him there -- on the building's roof, not far at all from where he had smoked and pleasured himself in celebration of his victory over Rain.

He found himself dropped with unexpected delicateness -- placed down more than tossed. He could feel the cool wetness of the roof... and then heard the thud of an imposing, four-point landing. Those four, powerful legs bent low in a squat before rising to an intent, noble stance -- the neck craning forward to examine Storm.

At last, the anthro's eyes were able to meet the visage of his attacker... and Storm found himself instinctively fascinated by what he saw.

It... looked like him. Himself as a true dragon: four-legged, winged, great and terrible -- of a size that could devour mortals for breakfast on a whim. Storm's eyes flitted about, soaking in every detail. A regal, golden mane flowed along and around that impressive neck, exuding royalty and power. The wings spanned half the roof's width when fully extended, yet could hang tidily close to the body when tucked, their membranes guiding the flow of the rain like downspouts. The legs and tail had golden fluff accents, matching the mane. The whole of him was muscular and mighty.

The only thing wrong was the markings. This dragon had Rain's markings, yet he definitely wasn't Rain. His whole shape and demeanor were so superior to Rain that it made Storm's heart throb a little. Storm either couldn't or wouldn't sense his own infatuation, but it was there from the moment he laid eyes upon the beast. This gorgeous image... this body of beauty and power... it was one of the few things in this world that he deemed immediately desirable. Possibly because it had not come from this world, but from someplace else.

The beast's appraisal of Storm was harder to read -- perhaps because Storm was so caught up in his own. There was a kind of strained, unsatisfied stillness to the creature's expression. It reminded Storm of the gaze of a disapproving parent.

"You seem to be doing about as well as I had expected," said the beast, the omni-directional voice now clearly identifiable as his. "Here for less than a day and already you've lost the shirt off your back."

"Hey, if I needed clothes, I could make anyone on the street give them to me. I like things natural."

The feral Teryx chuckled. "If you weren't so cripplingly exhibitionist, you could use that orb's power to make yourself unseen."

Storm's glare turned considerably colder. "You act like you know me, but you've come here to carry me off to my Spire and crack jokes."

"That wasn't a joke," said the true dragon, serenely. "That was advice."

Storm folded his arms as he stared down his nobly monstrous counterpart. "So. I'm Storm. By looks alone, I'd say we have a relationship to one another. What're you called?"

The feral snorted and made a small, gentlemanly bow of his head and maned neck. "Teryx, of course."

"Like I'd believe that. I can sense that you're the origin of the orb's power. A higher being. Our higher being."

Feral Teryx stared silently, as if to say, "And...?"

Storm, dubious, continued, "You're really going to tell me it's the same name we have here. Not something more significant like, 'Alteryxys of the Most Sacred Cloudburst,' or such."

The feral's reply had a wizened, melancholy tone: "Higher matters are best defined not by long-winded names, but by meditating quietly upon their nature."

"Not my style," said Storm. His tone was flat -- in much the same way as an attack from the flat of a sword's blade.

"I speak the truth," replied the true dragon, calm and unfazed. "You seek cosmic power, but a name will never suffice to contain nor to express it, no matter how long or glamorous that name is."

Storm smirked as he patted his solar plexus area with a hand. "I don't need names at all when I've got your power right here. You were bothered enough to come looking for it -- now we'll find whether you have the strength to take it back." Incisively and disgustedly, he added as if addressing the entity by name: "Alter."

"What's this about an altar?" the feral Teryx asked, in a tone that made it difficult to tell whether he was playing dumb or honestly didn't understand.

The impatience in Storm's voice was palpable. "You're like an alter ego. I'll defeat you and claim your power." When his opponent showed no signs of being impressed by this notion, he scowled and added, "Your confidence is unfounded."

The beast shrugged his powerful front quarters. "On the contrary, your confidence is blind. You lack true, clear comprehension."

"Just try me." Storm's tail thrashed to the left, while his right hand made a fist and his legs settled into a fighting stance. "I'll uppercut your handsome face back to whatever Realm of Weather you came down from."

A little grin formed along the true dragon's jaws, partially revealing his teeth. "Hm... I sense that you are attracted to me. I suppose that makes sense, for a broken piece that became corrupted into an Other. The goal of becoming whole again still exists within you, somewhere."

Storm sneered, either missing or ignoring the philosophical point of what Teryx was saying. "Not really. I'll beat up things I find attractive if I feel like it. Toys are toys: you're but an action figure crafted in my image."

The beast's jaws parted, revealing his two long rows of fangs and the snaking pink carpet of his tongue. He only half-suppressed his chuckle as he said, "No, you've got that quite wrong."

With that, the feral Teryx did not move. He gazed at Storm, waiting to see what the anthro would do.

Storm, perhaps predictably, did not remain patient: he charged across the roof, energy crackling across his striped markings as he channeled his namesake fury from the orb. His placid opponent evaded the first few charged swings and kicks via graceful liftings of limbs, bobs of the neck, and buffets of the wings. Storm tried to catch him afterward by discharging an arc of electricity from one hand -- an effort thwarted by a curved shield of vapor that formed to guard the feral, redirecting the charge to the metal of the roof's nearby railing. The current made a pop and crackled dramatically over the metal's surface, but it caused no harm to anyone.

Storm followed that with a suicidally bold lunge beneath the feral's chest, which he transitioned into an upward leap to try to grab on around the true dragon's neck. The majestic Teryx managed to elude him, whipping the center of his neck upward and angling his skull down so that the two butted foreheads. Storm bounced away, momentarily dazed from the self-inflicted impact against a body that was definitely even more impervious than his own.

Storm didn't let the embarrassing fall stop him from gloating. Instead, he pulled himself up and staggered back as he got to his feet. "Heh, just as I thought."

There was a hint of concern in the feral's expression: Teryx showing a paternal love for his lower-dimensional namesake. He wasn't entirely failing to hide it, but Storm's social awareness was keenly tuned into the slightest holes of what he would term "weakness."

"Got anything else?" Teryx asked Storm. The feral's wings flapped once in defiance, and his hindquarters swiveled and tail swayed as if to say, "I'm ready, hit me again!"

"Hmm," said Storm as he stroked under his chin and down along his mane, glancing to the cloudy sky. "Actually, yes, I do."

Storm's gaze turned back to his foe -- who had begun moving in closer as if to try to grab and subdue him -- and let out a roar of contempt as a surge of power flowed from the orb. A lightning strike from the nearby stormclouds surged down -- and blasted the feral with full force.

Despite taking the bolt, Teryx still stood, albeit with his teeth gritted and all four legs quivering as their nerves struggled to recover. The satisfying scent of freshly made ozone gas touched Storm's nostrils as he approached with a smirk.

"That's how you lose, Alter!" said Storm as he got up in Teryx's grit-teethed face. "Because you care."

The feral snapped at him -- but the poorly coordinated motion was both anticipated and easily dodged. Storm was under his neck in an instant -- then grabbing on, sweeping himself up onto the damaged dragon's back. Teryx lifted head and wings in an attempt to buck him off -- but Storm held tight and reached a charged hand up to the dragon's skull.

A horrible, disorienting static filled Teryx's mind as the current flowed straight through and disrupted his brain. His neck thrashed and his eyes twitched, before his regal body pitched forward, spread-eagled, in a slump of unconsciousness.

Storm walked in a quick circle around him, taking in the view. The rain-soaked mane. The broad, slackened wings. That tail and fine dragon rump...

"You're really me. My god-self, heheh..."

For all of his posturing before, Storm had indeed felt attracted. Teryx had read that much correctly. He was salivating at the thought of getting inside that body. If time wasn't of the essence, he might well have sought to get into it in a variety of ways before taking possession of it, but how long the higher being would remain unconscious was a wildcard that even he didn't want to leave to chance.

That rational thought, however, didn't make the body's beauty any less distracting in practice. Applying his uncanny strength, Storm rolled the unconscious dragon over... and was momentarily mesmerized as he took it in: sleek, massive, majestic, and brimming with supernatural power. This was the perfect base from which he would sculpt his new truth.

He nuzzled against the strong, familiar scales and rippling musculature of the creature's abdomen. He left a drooled line of saliva between there and the slit, which he gave a lewd and possessive slurp before reaching a hand inside. The idea that it could be a violation of someone else's body never occurred to him, for he already saw the body as his own.

He could feel the slumbering, unaroused mass of the dragon's hidden cock. By shape alone, he knew it was everything it was supposed to be. He squeezed it, compelling it to swell, if only a little. He wanted it... but there was so much more to want besides it.

Engrossed, he tugged the shaft just enough to leave it peeking, before climbing over those belly scales and up toward that distressed, passed-out face. Even now, the dragon didn't appear to be breathing, though he didn't expect that the magically suffused body needed as much breath as a normal one would.

Mighty torso... ahhh, luscious golden mane, proudly carpeting the mystique of those front quarters... and the neck that supported their handsome head. Theirs. His. All his. Those wings, azure, lay spread for him in waiting, calling for him to claim his rightful throne.

He grasped the rain-soaked golden yellowness of the mane. He felt the strength of that neck, and the scales beyond.

All he had to do was take out that useless weakness and replace it with something better. Give it a little redesign. Show a little more flair.

But it was exactly, exactly what he needed.

Storm was rock hard with arousal as his drooling maw met the feral's own. He was cradling his counterpart's head in his hands, manipulating it and making it turn this way and that as he kissed those silent reptilian lips and felt the sad unresponsiveness of what would soon be his tongue.

So inanimate. Without guidance. Still fried by his attack. Of course. He was powerful, the master of his own destiny... and of this body's destiny.

He would make it move. He and he alone would become the life within this living statue that existed in his honor.

A hand went to his cock as he tasted those teeth. With his other, he reached up and touched Teryx's brow.

The hand on his cock let go. No more distractions now: it was time.

There was silence in the sky. The storm went quiet, and the rain became patchy and in some places stopped. In the anthro dragon's belly, a glow of potent magic was surging.

Storm felt tension in his throat. He exhaled a rumble and a sigh, blowing air between the dragon's teeth. Silently electrified, that air slipped into the back of the feral's maw before delivering its charge. When it did, Storm felt a rush of expanded awareness, similarly to when he was possessing Harry through physical contact, except in this case the newly accessible body was unconscious. A trivial detail... he had only to call it into service.

Touching the feral's forehead with his left palm, Storm whispered, "Open your eyes now... and gaze upon your splendor."

A rush of nervous activity jolted the feral awake. His eyes opened, aglow and crackling as a sign of the enchantment which Storm had woven.

"My new home is ready and empty," said the possessed feral, his voice less elegant than before as Storm puppeted him into speaking. "All that remains is to move in."

Storm drew closer, eyes meeting those of the feral in a seductive stare. Like a lover, he wanted to fall into those eyes... but as Storm, he dove into them with hunger and force.

There was the faintest seam of transition, like waking from a dream, as Storm's primary awareness shifted over.

"Ghrruuarrrrrghlll..."

His body stung -- a lingering consequence of his own earlier attack, but one which would rapidly enough be mended. He blinked, the web of electricity fading from his eyes as he settled into true possession of the form. Upon his chest, he saw his anthro self's nude form... grasping that full erection and stroking it.

He was here, and he was also there... but that vessel was no longer necessary. It was but another toy now: to be enjoyed in the cycle of his self-adoration.

They kissed again, moving in perfect sync -- the feral's movements lively and strong as he lusted after himself.

"Please absorb me, Storm~" said the anthro Storm to himself. "You know I'll never be complete without you."

"You're already part of me," he teased himself, nipping him playfully on the nose.

"Yes, but I need to be so much more that way~"...

A strong claw supported the anthro's back as they continued smooching and grinding. The feral's erection was swelling, his markings changing as the weather whipped up into violence again. Flashes of electricity formed on his skin and arced down from the clouds, defining him with the same unkemptness and altered color that Storm had likewise displayed. The anthro ran his fingers gleefully through the mane to encourage its wilder look, kissing all the while.

"I like it~" Storm's two vessels said in unison. "Now let's apply the necessary power to make it permanent."

As he stroked himself, the anthro touched the feral's large fangs, admiring their power: "Mmm, being consumed by myself... that's the perfect way to go."

Feral Storm rumbled, his erection leaking pre on his belly scales as his tongue coiled around the anthro's hips. He was so delicious. The thought made his anthro self masturbate faster, the left hand milking the knot while the right provided a fuckable hole against which the shaft could glide. The tongue lashed around and pressed against the anthro's sack, applying a rhythmic pressure and wet warmth that helped push him over the edge.

The feral's cock spasmed in sync with the anthro's, producing a mostly dry orgasm that led to an even more abundant flow of pre in the moments that followed. Meanwhile the anthro's seed fountained down onto the feral's taste buds, bringing Storm's self-lust to its apex. He could taste the taint of smoke and corruption even in his anthro self's semen, and the taste was so...

Truly...

Wonderful.

Without thinking, Feral Storm's head was pitching back, the neck rising and flexing as he began to gulp down his self-meal. Exquisite cum and the writhing flesh of his smaller vessel entered his throat and then esophagus, providing him the simultaneous sensations of engulfing another and of being engulfed himself. He swallowed roughly, enjoying the stress of his powerful feral body against his anthro form and the growing sense of unity between the orb's power and that which was innate to the feral's body.

When Anthro Storm reached the stomach, that feeling of power grew larger and more pervasive. The glow in his stomach expanded, his body humming with magic that was coaxed to keep charging brighter and stronger by his will. When the concentration of magic became great enough, the bit of reality inside that draconic gut began to dissolve. The anthro body that had once been Rain began to come apart, atom by atom -- not because of digestion, but supernatural uncreation.

Storm had expected, at this point, to feel a fresh rush of power because of the orb connecting directly with his feral body... but that wasn't yet happening. Instead, he felt a different investment of power returning to him first -- somehow directly related to his anthro body's existence, and to the fact it was ceasing to exist now.

A perverse, one-word thought dawned upon him: recycling.

It was hilarious. Poetic. For a hedonist, Rain had been so environmentally sensitive. Now, it was time for his vessel to become no more than fuel for another's work. A greater's work.

The image of that dominated anthro body melting away inside of him, the power being drained into him...

Huff... huff...

Storm was using his front right claw to massage his shaft. Massive feral length and girth, the veins pulsating and bloating with his magic's lavish excess. He felt its anatomy mutating at last, his knot forming upon it and expanding to a wrecking-ball size befitting this body. That growth forced the penile ridges near the base to stretch outward as a hilt-like fleshy plating, conforming to the knot's curvature. He could feel the tension as the ridges rubbed against his bulging, bulbous engorgement, teasing him with every throb and motion. He tucked a claw-tip into that tight gap -- letting out a slower, oddly blackened exhalation of blackened water vapor as he devoured this moment of bliss.

He curled his long neck forward, giving his shaft a luxurious and gradual slurp -- feeling the length of it tremble and grow as his touch coaxed the changes through it further. Its pinkish color became richer, darker... he felt a charge building inside of it, as if it were a capacitor fueled by the battery of his lust.

Wings stretching behind him, Storm lunged onto his own cock, deepthroating himself with wild abandon and hammering his hips upward. His belly scales and hefty sack kept swatting against the bottom edge of his snout, while he hungrily focused on the sweet joy of assimilating Rain's vessel and taking rulership over Alter's. This potent flesh was now his, all his, to wield and to enjoy...

He felt the charge peaking alongside his pleasure. He pulled his maw off his length just as he reached the point of no return -- and finished with a bellow and an almost vertical pelvic thrust against his left wrist. That final zing of pleasure rolled through his shaft, his roar piercing the heavens like thunderclaps as he let loose in ejaculation. The first spasm produced only a bead of white at the tip; the second sent his semen upward with the force of a recently unkinked firehose, the liquid javelin firing up toward the clouds. He felt his will in it and made it manifest his glory: reality bending, the liquid transformed into crackling electrical energy, becoming an instantaneous burst of lightning between his shaft and the overlooming clouds. This trend continued with each subsequent spurt -- and for those next dozen seconds, the lightning itself was in the rhythm of his ejaculation, the thunder booming for the whole city to hear.

As that conquering ejaculation tapered off, Storm took a look down at his claw and saw that the residue left behind after his semen was magically altered was unusual: his cocktip was drooling a black, rubbery-smelling after-seed, which carried the magical signature of his will. He saw it and deemed it wonderful -- and felt the same corruption creeping backward into his nuts and prostate. As his afterglow developed, he began to remember things that he never should have known. Spontaneously, he recognized a flavor in his blackened seed as a magical taste-marker for the power of creation... a taste which he should not have known, but knew now thanks to this sacred vessel.

So much information was ingrained into Alter's brain -- and now in his pleasure Storm was perusing it like the highlight reel of a movie. Breathing deeply. Suckling the dregs of his own cum. Calling data to mind in both mind's-eye flickers and declarative bursts of information.

He remembered that the anthro called "Teryx" or "Rain" was not originally supposed to exist in this universe at all. His arrival was an act of creation, imposed upon reality by the true dragon's power. It had been a gentle, well-cultivated project -- lovingly woven into the time and space of the universe, creating a logical progression into Teryx's conception, birth and life. That use of power had bent the rules of how the world worked, but never broken them. All of it was accomplished through clever -- but not universe-destabilizing -- manipulations of chaos and probability.

The scope of the project was staggering. Like rain upon a cliff face, Teryx had sculpted his will into the world: one droplet at a time, over thousands of years, in a way so artful it was difficult for all but the most perceptive of higher beings to notice, let alone mere mortals. Such tenderness. Such respect... Such useless restraint.

Storm flexed his groin and slapped his still-hard cock down against the rooftop -- and dwelled in anger upon his higher self's decision. Much like the semen-turned-lightning before it, his afterglow ignited to become a seething fury.

How dare he!? How dare that allegedly greater Teryx -- whom Storm had just proven to be weaker after all -- create Rain and make him the representative of their nature within this world? Storm was much stronger and more capable of getting things done. It was disgusting to think that a "greater" Teryx would have instituted such an inferior version when a better one could have easily been made instead.

The great storm dragon's chest and throat rumbled...

He rose to his feet, posing his feral body in the more familiar stance of a humanoid, anatomical difficulties be damned. His forepaws wobbled in the air, their fluff-tufts blowing in the wind as he let out a shrill reptilian hiss and jutted his hips. His persisting erection hung long, low, and bobbing beneath him as he took several frustrated steps, pacing about.

No refractory period to speak of -- and now his erection was a thing of pure rage. He needed to fuck something. He was going to fuck something, even if it meant fucking a hole into the damn roof.

His stomach gurgled in agitation... and then his mood shifted again, albeit more subtly this time: he transitioned from raw anger into a quieter megalomania as he felt the familiar warmth of the orb come online within his feral belly. Now that Rain was unmade from around it, the desired link had settled into place. In his excitement, he had almost forgotten about it! Yet now Storm could feel the hum of its potency mingling with that of his godlike body -- amplifying his power dozens-fold.

From this... enlightened perspective, he realized there was something much better than the roof to make the target of his frustrations. Why rage randomly when he could rage with purpose?

He thought of Rain: his inferior self, contemptible -- enough to make his stomach churn. Yet, Rain was still desirable... part of him. Part of him and not part of the useless world outside. He only needed to remake Rain in a better image. His image of the ideal servant...

Focusing and quietly growling, Storm willed Rain's coalescence, weaving together again those unraveled threads of Teryx's earlier work. He felt the heft of a body forming in his stomach again... and then began the process of coughing him back up. It was a deliberate regurgitation, of which he felt fully in control. He merely willed his muscles to go in reverse, and so they did, providing him the unique sensations of squeezing that lean body back out toward his maw. Rain, unconscious and back from the dead. Rain, reborn only to become his slave!

"Huraaaaaah~!" Storm roared as he cocked his head forward and spat Rain back out onto the rooftop. The man landed partly on one side, already soaked in the dragon's fluids and now being washed in the heavy downpour.

There was no movement at first: no breath and no life. Rain's body was a shell, waiting for someone to fill it. Someone with the power to mold creation as he saw fit!

Storm licked his chops to clear the drool. This was going to be fun.

He parted his maw and focused his magic -- gathering a spherical charge of energy that arced like a static orb between his fangs. After letting it linger to amuse himself with the crackling sensations on his gums, he angled his snout forward and touched the charge to Rain's unconscious body.

What followed was a convulsion every bit as violent as Storm had hoped. Rain's body writhed, the tips of the mane sizzling from the current. Although dramatic, that electrocution lasted only for a few seconds, the supernatural energy playing itself out. Rain's heart thumped in the aftermath, and his startled body sucked in a deep breath. His fingertips twitched experimentally, and his lidded eyes peeled gradually open.

Rain, for his part, had a splitting headache and felt an unnerving sense of magic. The whole area was suffused in it, as if thoughts might become reality at a moment's notice.

He glanced in confusion at his feral counterpart. He immediately noticed the odd stance -- standing on the hind feet, front claws askew with their digits making anticipatory grabby motions in the air. After a blink to focus his vision, Rain's gaze rose -- and found itself meeting a predatory stare that seemed eerily familiar. The kind of stare he might have seen in the mirror, if only in a dream...

Flashes of memory caused Rain to freeze. Storm. The voice. The one who had--

He wasn't yet conscious of everything, but the pieces falling into place in the depths of his mind were causing him to tremble. He didn't like trembling. He would defend himself, until he could think clearly.

Spurred by Rain's conviction and urgency, the raindrops and misty vapors in the area formed a dome shield between him and Storm. Though impossibly thin and not solid-looking at all, there was an odd sheen to it that gave it an appearance like gleaming glass.

The feral chuckled... and then bellowed a laugh, chest heaving proudly and tail swaying in giddy amusement.

Rain tried to ignore him -- tried to think. His first thought was how fucked he was -- likely for multiple meanings of the word. Perhaps if he could stall; perhaps if he could goad him...?

Storm stepped his left leg forward, pivoted his weight, and smashed the shield with a massive swat of his right front claw. Rain felt it shatter beneath the weight of the monster's much greater power -- the idea itself breaking apart within the anthro's imagination as it happened. A hum of exerted energy emanated subtly from the feral's gut, the waves brushing against Rain's face and mane.

That was when Rain realized that the orb wasn't inside of himself anymore. This was very bad.

With his cock flinching and drooling pre onto the roof, Storm chuckled and made a suggestion: "If you're going to leverage your tiny ability to manipulate the power, why don't you do yourself a favor and manipulate your rear so that it can take this?"

Rain stared at him in defiance. Even for Rain, there was a hint of that same narcissistic lust -- the thought of being reamed by himself could never be wholly bad in his mind -- but it was muted beneath the conviction and resolve that he felt.

"Meh, I like it rough," said Rain, dismissively. "Besides, you're such a big baby, I bet you can't even give it to me right."

"Excuse me?" rumbled Storm, his maw getting very close to Rain's, enough that the anthro could feel the angry flow of breath wash over him and ruffle the strands of his mane.

"You heard me. I say, what good is the perfect tool when the handyman is incompetent?"

The feral roared -- grabbed the uppity anthro-Teryx by his sides, and hoisted his rear. "You will suffer," growled Storm. "You spoiled, daddy's-favorite little brat. I'll fuck you and warp you until you're a husk of your former self. A husk in my image, you hear me?"

Rain stared at him. "Do your worst."

A shriek of rage followed -- and then a rough downward slam, Rain's back getting hammered against the rooftop as Storm held him down. The feral dragon's irate erection pressed up, the tip alone all that Rain looked like he could realistically handle.

Storm began to fuck him. Quickly. Angrily. Short but rapidly deepening thrusts, not stopping when Rain inevitably screamed. Storm could feel that pucker pleading, trying to clench and push him out, but even the impressive ability of an ass to close was no match for multiple tonnes of dragon exerting themselves to shove that shaft inside. Rain's abdomen bulged, his screams gradually changing into perverse moans as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"That's right," said Storm as he rapidly built up to his edge. "Tell me who's the real Teryx. Admit it."

Rain could hardly speak. He was becoming erect too, shaft getting bounced and brushed by the insertion. "We... nnhh..."

"Wrong, now say it."

"We all... are... hhngh..."

Rain came all over himself, much to Storm's annoyance. "Really? You dare to enjoy this? You dare to finish first?"

There was a darkening in the clouds, until the world seemed as dark as a moonless night. The diminished city lights provided the only illumination. Storm was focusing his power, taking a deep breath and then growling as he reached his peak. Rain could feel a rush of water vapor in the air, as if the wind was almost saturated with it.

Overhead a scarce few stars became visible. Storm was inhaling entire clouds as he prepared whatever supernatural event he was brewing.

Storm, still somehow not cumming, intoned what sounded like an incantation he had come up with on the spot: "Mmm, delicious foulness of this city... I compel you to taint this vessel with all of your poisons, to make it the avatar of all that is worthless and futile. So shall it serve me forever, engulfed in this mire which I bend to my will and shape to my liking. Hhh... nhhhhaaahh...!!"

Rain grunted in surprise at the amount that pumped into him. Storm was finally ejaculating, but whatever he was cumming wasn't normal. It felt like oil, pouring into him and gliding deep... yet somehow it was also still sticky, warm, and somehow alive. He could feel it oozing through him, rapidly snaking its way up into his stomach and forcing air out through his throat. He exhaled spasmodically, then tried to inhale -- and felt the terrifying sensation of fluid rushing into his lungs faster than the air could enter. It was like someone was drowning him beneath a pool of water that was already inside of him. He clutched his neck and shuddered, his eyes and face aghast.

Storm inhaled slowly again -- lingering on it as if to mock Rain's distress -- and drew in another dark cloud from the sky nearby.

Casually taking his time, he held it in his expanded chest -- and then let out a tiny puff of water vapor through his nose, while somehow retaining all of the rest.

While Rain tried in vain to expel the ooze that was suffocating him, his flaring nostrils drew in the vapor -- delivering him a scent both familiar and strange. It reminded Rain of the odor of dense urban smog, yet it had a placating effect to it... as if he should go sit on a bus-stop bench someplace and never move again until Storm told him to do so. The water vapor was now a pheromone of inaction... of having one's force of personality chipped away and polished smooth.

His hand dropped from his neck. A thought nudged its way into Rain's mind: I don't need to breathe anymore. It was technically true, but no less concerning because of it.

Furthermore, as much as the scent made Rain passive, it made whatever mass was invading him far more excited. He could feel the oily liquid quivering and pressing against his insides, as if it had a life of his own. Storm was still ejaculating, with the spurts only now beginning to taper.

Pleased with his orgasm and his handiwork this far, Storm leaned in close and murmured over his unbreathing, ooze-filled plaything: "Between the two of us... it's not really the city's corruption I'm invoking. I am the poison, the entropy -- more ancient and terrible than anything this earthly hovel can produce."

Rain nodded. He didn't mean to, but he did it anyway. He could feel... all the stuff inside him wanting to nod.

It was at that moment, with Rain's corruption-induced pliability at its deranged peak, that Storm chose to show what he had done to the rest of the liquid he had absorbed a few moments prior.

Silently, a dark froth formed at the edges of Storm's maw -- tongue slipping free between the parting teeth to reveal that the once-beautiful red carpet was now the slithering vector for grotesque, clinging black sludge. It curled around Rain's snout, sending a shiver of unwanted excitement coursing through him once again. In the mentally corrupting haze, he could feel Storm's seed inside him yearning to bloom into a twisted new creation.

A black trail remained on Teryx's face as the tongue slurped its way back around. The tip of it prodded at the lips of Teryx's maw -- coaxed his nerves with that disgusting kiss. Open, open, open...

He opened. Jaw yawning wide -- blackened tongue sliding in -- the taste of the sludge now confusingly sweet.

Rain's thoughts were a blur of submission, confusion, and need. If this was bad, then why did it feel so good?

Teryx could feel his body pulsating... almost throbbing, Storm murmuring in lust as he called those planted seeds up from inside of him...

Quietly, even in those throes of dazzled lust... there was a voice. A quiet one, like the sound of small droplets pattering onto a sidewalk. Despite this, it seemed to embrace Rain, coming from all around him like a momentary cloak of comfort.

The voice only said, "Don't let him tell you what to experience."

Rain thought about that... and felt a jolt in his perception.

The sludge tasted like something from a chemistry lab that should never be ingested. The depths of his lungs were burning from the abominable process of the goo digging deeper into him.

He tried to speak, but he couldn't. He should know better.

Even if not... he would fight. He refused to provide the satisfaction the deranged asshole was obviously looking for.

Rain strained and tried to retch as he felt the tongue licking in again. He had to purge this stuff... to get out of him somehow...

For just a moment, there was a false hope that it might be working. Rain could feel it rising up, coming out his throat and into his maw.

There was just one problem: it was doing that at its own pace, regardless of his pushing. It bubbled forth as if his body were merely a summoning cauldron being compelled into use by Storm's sorcery. As it amassed within the back of Rain's mouth, it expanded itself wide enough to force his maw open and keep it that way, before sending forth smaller bits of itself to conquer. It captured his tongue, rubberized his fangs, and coated his nasal cavity before filling his mouth to overflowing with yet more of itself. The bulkier mass then dispersed itself forward -- swept outward and around his cheeks, racing to encase more of him. It formed a semisolid hood around his head and shoulders, becoming progressively more form-fitting as the moments passed.

It was a living, organic slime... taking him over both from without and from within. Chemically binding to his tissues and making them part of its system.

There was so much of it, both deep within him and now pouring forth to meet the feral's corrupt tongue. The sheer amount became more obvious a moment later when Storm at last pulled out from their mating -- cock still drooling the same black gunk -- and let the overloaded mass of it start exploring backward out of Teryx's bottom. It emerged as a whipping, fanlike arrangement of tendrils -- which found his thighs, knees, waist, and tail, and encased them all while spreading both around him and down toward his feet. His bloated gut sank back to a normal size as the flood settled itself, the mass emerging from both ends and coating him in so a sleek black that the feral's discerning, low-light-friendly eyes could still distinguish from the darkness of the surroundings.

Rain found his eyes promptly covered -- got to his feet in a frantic struggle as he tried to get the mass out of him and off him. His bare claws raked violently against his own sides near the hips, tearing at the gooey surface and flinging portions of it away before the upper region of goo managed to snake its way down his arms. A second reactive flash of clawing followed, with Rain furiously but unsuccessfully struggling against the incursion along his pecs, shoulders, biceps and wrists -- each time sloughing off a portion and scattering it onto the rooftop, only to have the seemingly endless supply from within continue to emerge and flow unstoppably over each fought-for area. After several more seconds, any meaningful physical resistance was over: Rain's body was covered from head to toe, with teeth and claws rendered rubbery and inert by their thick, gooey casing.

Rain could not scream, nor could he breathe. He flexed his chest in outrage as if to let out a roar or bellow, but nothing came. He then tried lunging at Storm to claw at him, in vain: his coated fingers dealt damage no more severe than the annoyance of rubber-squeaks in Storm's sharp ears. The feral had a hearty laugh at his counterpart's expense. Rain then tried biting under the neck, with a similarly fruitless result: the teeth managed to snag a few strands of Storm's mane, but when Rain tried to pull back and tear it, he found himself unable to control his muscles to make them do so.

At that point, Rain found the encasing ooze treating his flesh-and-bones body like a puppet. His jaws yawned wide of their own accord to release the mane. When he tried to step away, he instead fell forward -- prostrate. An amused, burbling voice uttered words which were not his own: "As we wished, the Servitor of the Storm has been created. This vessel shall bend to our will."

Rain wanted to complain or indeed do anything to resist, but there was no hope now. His last surge of physical defiance ended with his knees and elbows down -- hands upon his face, grasping and tugging at the "mask" of goo that had claimed his head. As the supernatural rubber integrated itself deeper and more pervasively into his nervous system, he began to think in ways that he would not normally, the creation's thoughts melding with his own.

Serve...

"How are you feeling, my dear creation?" Storm asked with a grin as he stepped closer.

Adore...

"This servitor is prepared to attend to the Storm's will."

Worship...

"Good. We'll begin with a gentle paw massage while I rebuild the crippling weather from which I borrowed to create you, Oh, and do bring me that box of cigars... I think I'll enjoy another while I sunder some more of this stupid place's power grid."

Provide...

"Of course, Master Storm."

Rain's legs moved on their own... and, sinisterly and frighteningly, his mood changed as the ooze's will took over. He could not help enjoying the act of getting those cigars for Storm. His entire sense of reward and worth was being hijacked by the thing that had linked itself with his nervous system. Beneath the rubbery exterior, he strove to resist and to ignore it... but it was like trying to hold black dark clouds from their inevitable conclusion.

As his hands took hold of one of the reclining Storm's hind claws, every touch and squeeze that Rain offered brought a shock of exhilaration and joy to his nerves. This was right. This was good.

Wasn't it?

Tend to the Creator.

He tended. He rubbed. He also struggled to remember... something. Something someone had said. The dragon. The experience.

Serve.

Serve the experience... to Master Storm. Creator Storm. No...

Obey.

Obey and have worth by massaging the Creator's body...

So it continued, powerful and distorting. Within just a few short minutes of the thing integrating with him, Rain forgot how to think No. Soon, he would forget there was ever a "Rain" to begin with.

"Erosion is a powerful thing, wouldn't you say?" Storm asked casually as he placed the first cigar in his bestial jaws and lit it using a precision-targeted jolt of magic. He shielded it with a wing, admiring his handiwork as he smoked. "Ooof, it's a pity that you tried so hard to damage your new look. Looks like you've given it permanent claw-wounds due to your insolence. Not that you can look at them without my giving you the order, but they're there. Scars of your resistance, on your hips and arms and chest. With time, you'll come to know them as a warning never to struggle. Heheh..."

The rooftop was quiet then, save for the sounds of the re-brewing thunderclouds, as Storm channeled progressively greater energy from the orb and compelled the clouds to gather -- the weather from wider and wider around to twist and contort. The atmosphere was spiralling far around and high above -- nature's processes being compelled by his will to act faster and out of scope with anything that would normally happen. The orb burned hot inside of him as he finished that first cigar, which he pressed against his servant's blackened head as if it were a suitable ashtray.

That servant, automatically following orders, was doing his best to give the feral dragon the best foot massage possible. With his symbiotically augmented strength, he had a firm enough grip to provide something extraordinary to the dragon, but the dragon never reacted as if it were more meaningful than average. He was always pressing a foot this way or that -- hurrying the process to get the relaxation done, so that he could go and conquer more.

Perhaps more worship was necessary, the loyal drone decided. He pressed his forehead to Storm's foot, prompting a smirk of enjoyment from the Creator as the simple servant found this new way to show its low status compared to him. After several adoring seconds of this, a diligent foot-licking followed, with the black tongue gliding its slick rubbery surface into every crevice and along the surface of every claw-nail. He was a bottom-feeder, detritus, worth nothing without Creator Storm. He took the toes in his maw and suckled on them, with more latex-like sounds of friction occurring as the jaws and adjusted throat put their altered muscles to work.

"Mmmm, gather up, my potent spawn~" Storm said to the gathering clouds in the dark sky above. Then, with just an idle glance at his creation, he added, "Hm... I think I'll have to give you wings with the next batch of ooze. You're supposed to be in my image, and you're not complete without them now."

"This servitor is inferior in every way to Teryx the Great Storm."

"Teryx. Just Teryx. There's no one else, after all~"

The servitor seemed confused for an instant, as if he had been sure he was referencing some previously established name for the being he was addressing, but he did not complain. He silently went on with the massage.

So "Teryx" burned down another cigar, and another. Still gathering more clouds. Still building up more of a disaster. Himself at the eye of it all -- Rain unable to do anything but "willingly" submit and serve. It was good to put any trace of submissiveness into that thing... so clearly dirty and inferior, literally made of slime and parasitic upon its slowly corrupting living host. Truly, it was perfect. Given enough time, he could leverage his power to make more and more of it -- turn the whole city into his loyal drones, if he so desired. The world was his playground, after all.

Thoughts of grandeur excited him, giving him a renewed erection, toward which he directed those slick latex hands. It was good for his puppet to service him. After all, he was now complete, wielding the power to sculpt Creation itself.

The literal Perfect Storm. He had become that.

Thinking to make more of his encasing ooze, he resumed drawing in the magically tainted miasma from the air, puffing out smoky gray water vapor after each draw. The disgusting worthlessness of this city -- no, this whole world. Nothing would have meaning any longer, except as it pertained to him. He mashed the third cigar against his servant and let it fall to the rooftop, mind zeroing in on the "divine work" at hand.

Storm's powerful chest expanded and contracted, each puff of the wicked air reinforcing his sense of godhood. He ingested these corrupted clouds as fast as they formed, before compelling more to grow in their place. He could feel the strain on the fabric of reality, the orb trembling within him, and revelled in the exertion.

He could change anything, he realized. Why be content with mere control of people? Why did he even need any of them?

What he needed was... himself. More of himself. More.

Throbbing with arousal, he pushed the latex servitor away, into a reclined position. Then, in further defiance of physics and matter, he gestured at his puppet and willed the goo-encased cock to grow larger -- simply because he could. It magnified, rapidly becoming as long as the puppet's waist-up height, and as wide around as his entire pubic mound. A toy for his use... he could tease it, ride it, do whatever he wanted. He was in control.

He likewise compelled the storm to widen, spiralling out over a greater region, idly teasing his pawn's member with a footpaw as he did so.

He was the god ruling over this world, creator of--"Hrrrr rarkk!!"

The orb's heat had surged to an intense burn, interrupting his breath. He also felt an excess of heavy black goo in his lungs... which he found himself coughing up.

"Hrrraa ach!!"

...Really!? This was happening to him!? How frustratingly mundane. The body of his godlike self should never be fussed about things like this.

He swallowed the "mucus," refusing to spit it out, as if so doing would've been a sign of weakness. He would rule over this toxic place he was designing... make more ooze, encase more people. Not because of caring about them or needing them, but merely for the sheer number of toys he could make in his image. More of himself. More!!

In the midst of this self-absorbed defiance, Storm heard a familiar voice: You are like the child who wants more candy than he can stomach...

The taut, painful feelings in Storm's belly grew much worse as his tension spiked. He looked around, paranoid, seeking whence that voice had emanated. It took him several frustrated seconds to realize it was the unwanted voice of "Alter" in his head.

You're supposed to be asleep, the petulant Storm thought back, so stop being a soothing god-voice and sleep. Nobody likes you.

There was a chuckle in his thoughts that seemed to follow the rhythms of the raindrops. Too caught up in self-lust, you didn't notice you were overusing your power. The overheating began when you chose to continue manipulating the weather so soon after creating your servitor, but you did not let yourself feel the change.

One of the feral's front claws clutched at his chest and massaged downward along the spot where his insides were still painfully burning. I was distracted -- enjoying myself!

No, you were willfully ignorant. As much as you crave freedom, your mind has become a place where any thought that fails to glorify you is censored. In your search for total freedom, you have become a prisoner -- confined by your body's weakness.

Storm was irate, stomping the roof and thrashing his forelimbs as if swatting at an invisible foe. "This is the body of a god!" he said aloud. "It's not supposed to have weaknesses!"

Alter, for all his patience and kindness, was still just a little smug. I never said it was the body of a god. You came to that conclusion on your own, because you wanted it to be true.

"Shut up!"

No. I am here to teach you, and that is what I am going to do.

"You'd better hush. If you don't, I'll shunt you over into Rain's body, where I can torment you as I see fit."

There was a long pause from Alter's side, followed by a strangely contented-sounding reply: Actually, I think I'd rather let myself in...

Storm felt the mental contact with Alter cease, if only temporarily. His servitor remained patiently idle, hyperphallic body aroused yet purposeless without a further command from the creator, who was in too much of a panic now to appreciate his own handiwork. The pain from the overcharged orb was getting worse, having rapidly deepened to ulcerous proportions and causing Storm's body to give him increasingly urgent suggestions that he should expel it -- a suggestion which he vetoed with clenched teeth and rigid, regulated swallowings. He wasn't giving up this body's power, and he now felt sure that he needed the orb to remain inside as security against his control getting usurped by Alter! The orb resonated with Storm's mental pattern, echoing it powerfully into this worthy vessel of flesh. Without it, there were no guarantees that Alter wouldn't--

Cra-crickk...

Storm looked mortified as something bizarre happened. The surface of the black goo encasing Rain's right shoulder turned rigidly solid and then cracked like brittle stone. Peeking through the cracks was a pale golden light.

Crik... crrrrk... crackkrikk...

The cracks rapidly spread, spider-webbing their way over the entire surface of the creation's torso, and then along his arms and head. When it reached his genitals, the rubber-expanded cock developed a hole and visibly deflated until it was no more than a modest sheath around Rain's usual length. Meanwhile, the legs and tail were breaking open too.

Storm focused his power in vain, willing for his creation to hold together -- and received only more pains of overexertion for his trouble. These were harsh enough that he found his stomach spasming and the orb jolting up into his esophagus before he forcefully gulped it back down, face straining, with a growl of dismay and fear coming out of his maw.

From within the crumbling encasement, Rain emerged... bearing a strong magical charge and radiating a warm aura. It looked golden like the light through the cracks, except sometimes it would seem to shimmer with the colors of a rainbow as it mingled with the backdrop of the storm's falling droplets.

"Alter..." Storm rumbled. Paranoid mania erupted in his voice as he continued: "You did this. You did this for no other reason than to humiliate me and pamper your creation. I know who you are and what we are now... this body knows!"

The anthro Teryx folded his arms and shrugged. "Then you should know your fears are unfounded. I don't hate you. I never have."

"Hrrrgh... if that's true, then it's even worse... you serene bastard. Your inaction should disgust you. You let me eat him, unmake him..."

Teryx chuckled. "Only because you're so envious that you couldn't resist the allure of immediately creating him again." With a sadder look, he added, "Though it is true, I dislike harming my creation. It was convenient that you took the decision into your own claws, but I won't pretend I'm in the right for not acting sooner."

"Heh... urk." He grabbed at his gut area and grimaced. "Damn... hurts..."

"All life hurts, Storm. Your dream of endless, unchecked power and entropy is not sustainable. All storms play themselves out... often violently and swiftly."

"Hghll..." Storm had merely tried to speak, but was struggling because of black gunk bubbling up from inside him. It was not coherent servitor-sculpting goo anymore, but a putrid and oily emission with too little magic in it to hold a shape. "Ffb... fight me," Storm added with a scowl as the goo drooled out his maw.

"Nonsense. Come here and I'll coax that heavy burden out of you."

"Fuck you."

There was a sad little smile on the anthro's face. "No sex now, Storm. Only healing."

" Grrrhh...!!"

Storm lunged and snapped his jaws at the current avatar of his higher self. Despite the pain and anger, it was a well-aimed strike, poised to engulf Rain's head and torso. Nevertheless, his jaws snapped air. He felt an intolerable surge of frustration as numerous wisps of magically mobile water vapor slithered out between his teeth, reforming seconds later into a perfectly healthy Rain, still emanating that sacred aura.

An enraged swing of that massive feral tail followed. The avatar jump-rolled over it before rushing forward to deflect a series of claw-swings with powerful, snappy punches. A flying kick to the feral's left shoulder followed: Storm swayed off balance, roaring in warning as he lowered himself to a defensive, all-fours posture. The anthro landed nearby, ready to act instantly when his feet touched the ground.

Black gunk pooled again in the feral's mouth as he tried his best to look strong. He saw Rain running toward him -- tried to veer his large head to get in the way, but the effort was bypassed by an agile forward roll from the anthro. Passing under Storm's neck, the avatar got close to the dragon's belly and reached a hand up to touch it in the spot that Storm kept clutching and favoring.

A jolt of magic rippled through the feral's body. He felt his suppression of his reflexes falter: first his muscles and nerves became utterly calm, like a still pond, before immediately reacting to the pain from this reset state. He felt the orb being reversed up into his long neck, and could no longer stop it as the anthro held that hand to his gut.

"You've lost, Storm," said the avatar as the orb's bulge made its way up the neck. "No endless spiral of power. Leave that vessel now, and think on what has happened."

Ego-smashing embarrassment was flooding Storm's mind. He felt both shame and fury: the pain of an outcast and the rage of a hurt child. His everything was coming apart. He had made his plans and executed them to get here, and now Alter was taking the fun away like always.

Following his emotions, Storm withdrew. The feral's eyes rolled and fluttered oddly as he sequestered his consciousness into the nearest place that felt safe -- which in this case was the searing, overloaded magical heat of the orb. The orb, into which he had seeded his will and through which he had corrupted Rain. This would be his bastion... Alter would not be able to hurt him here.

Instinct took over in the vessel as Storm released his hold. The orb rolled out and slid pathetically to a stop amongst a long gout of black slime that had been expelled along with it. The surface of the sludge wobbled slightly in the wind as the storm continued to howl over the rooftop.

The weather did not immediately change... but the Perfect Storm Dragon certainly did. The vomiting was only the first in a wave of body-wide convulsions: limbs, tail, and neck all twitching erratically as the power binding Storm's consciousness to that body began to unravel. With each thrash of leg or involuntary snap of teeth, another of Storm's alterations undid themselves from the creature: electrical markings vanishing, mane returning to normal, genitals back as they were.

Storm felt most of that, despite not wanting to. With each reverted trait, he was able to funnel more and more of his personality away to lurk in the orb. It would remember his markings, his greatness.

The last piece of anatomy to change was his golden eyes, with Storm's megalomaniacal gaze and sharper reptilian slits being replaced by the calmer, slightly more dilated appearance natural for the dragon. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then the soul within them had surely shifted. A different, more placid aspect was looking out through those windows again.

Feral Teryx's right foreclaw rose and wiped the last drops of oily black from his face. A flick of the nails flung the fluid down to join the rest of the mess upon the roof. He looked at the orb -- stuck there in the ooze. He could sense Storm's signature from it, but he determined that he should attend to poor Rain first. The divine glow around the anthro was fading fast; with its disappearance, Rain would become aware again. There were no twitches or false starts -- only a blank look for a few moments, followed by Rain's eyes refocusing where his attention led them.

The first image Rain took in was the sight of a form he could only remember having in his most fanciful dreams: a true dragon version of himself. Handsome, for sure... and someone he really wanted to hug right now.

So he did. Stumbling a bit at first, Rain embraced the great dragon's face, arms cradling wide around the muzzle. The feral's erection had shrunk its way back into his sheath, but there was still a noticeable sense of amorousness as they kissed and nuzzled.

"It is good to see you again," said the feral, the compassion and familiarity in his voice both evident.

Rain was going to say, "I've never seen you before" -- but felt a surge of affection so potent that it stopped him before his mouth opened. He committed to the embrace, as if he were taking hold of a loved one he thought he would never see again. Muddled flickers of memory -- more emotion than image -- told him to cherish this moment. He recalled Storm saying "daddy's favorite" and finally understood the nature of that angst. A paternal word kind of worked to describe it... though only kind of. He could sense that his relationship to this feral entity was strange but wonderful... and felt as if it always had been.

"You still feel like I'm a part of you after that embarrassing display?" Rain asked, showing his shier side in this rare and disarming moment.

"You can't not be," said the feral Teryx with a laugh. "We're stuck with each other."

"Yep, stuck," said Rain, holding even tighter to his counterpart's face and swaying a bit, as if to imply they were bound together by glue.

When Rain eventually turned around and leaned more relaxedly against his feral self's chest, he finally noticed the shattered goo-pieces upon the rooftop, along with the orb and the expelled mass. The solid black shards of Storm's servitor were liquefying as the rain continued to fall -- and the storm clouds above waned as they lost their magical backing.

"You're fortunate," said the feral's soothing divine voice as they snuggled. "Creation and massive-scale weather manipulation... two powers which both drain the user significantly. Of course, Storm didn't think that he still had limits."

"This is all a lot more cosmic than I usually go for," admitted Rain, "but if I get to cuddle this, I'll gladly listen to whatever story you have to tell."

Feral Teryx laughed and rolled playfully onto his back, hoisting Rain above his chest like a baby and then lowering him so that the anthro could hug around his strong neck. It was nice to be able to see the sky starting to clear as they did this.

"You're so huggable," opined Rain as he flexed his arms and swayed his tail. "This better not stop for at least a few hours."

A wistful smile formed on the feral. "Sadly, I won't be able to stay here very long. I'll need to return home for a while, but I'll contact you when I can, since I suppose the secret's out now."

"Yeah, you have some explaining to do, 'Daddy.'" Despite the sass, Rain sounded more excited than annoyed. "You made that orb too, I bet."

Teryx nodded. "Power in a crystallized form -- a useful focus for interacting with the material world. I can generate another eventually, but I'm afraid this one will need to be crushed and disposed of. Currently, it's more a repository for Storm's warped mind than it is anything else. We should take care of that before I go."

They broke off their embrace and looked again toward the pile of sludge where it had plopped.

Confusion ran through the both of them as they realized something was very wrong. The pile of goo on the roof had diminished rapidly during their snuggle -- and not in the way that it should have. There was no orb, and for the most part there was no pile of goo, either. It had shrunk to a thin, visible line of residue which snaked its way from the spot where the orb had landed... all the way over the edge of the roof.

The feral dragon lunged forward and looked down, seeing nothing in the rain-filled darkness of many stories below.

"It fell -- all the way to the ground. I'm not sensing its magic anymore, so it must be quite far."

"Loooong way down," commented Rain. "Guess it's busted?"

"Not... necessarily. You should--"

Rain looked on in dismay as his feral self's body began to crackle and fade away, seeming to come apart like dust into the rainstorm's wind. Within seconds, the image of him was rapidly dissolving... but Rain continued to hear him speaking, the voice clear and gentle in his thoughts.

Storm's exertion drained too much of that vessel's power, but I'll get back in as soon as I can. You need to go look for the orb and make sure it's gone. Be thorough -- there's no telling what may have happened when it struck the ground. I'll see you soon.

Rain, feeling somehow lonelier than before, glanced once more over the edge of the roof and shook his head. Then, gritting his teeth, he headed quickly into his apartment to get dressed. It was time for an evening excursion.