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Strangely serene after all that had happened, Teryx went home in a mindset that felt like the whole world was somehow... charmed. The bus not quite real. The sidewalk a speculation. The elevator...

The elevator was quiet. He perceived the subtle shift in G-forces as he rose.

In an unusual turn, he felt momentarily claustrophobic along the way. The air tightening around him -- something wrong. He had the strangest, intrusive sense of falling, even if it was the wrong way. When the elevator halted, he remembered a sense of collision -- his body being thrown back, blind, but cushioned by fluids around him. A sensation that should have been terrifying, but it had not been.

He blinked. He remembered he was in air. This was fine.

He wandered to his bedroom, removed his clothes in a hurry, and sprawled. He wondered if some of what Rale had slipped him was still in his system, or if his earlier countermeasures were simply running out before the drugs did. Or if this state, itself, was backlash from the countermeasures.

He covered his eyes and laughed strangely. Silly him, he wasn't an alien slug. Why was he asking himself these questions? That was Commodore's job... he was but the humble, radiant, apparently rape-worthy host.

He'd be lying to himself if he claimed that there wasn't a small, dark part of him that felt flattered by the notion. But in the final analysis, Rale's behavior had been scummy. Perhaps it was a matter of opinion, but he preferred his kind's way of doing things...

He felt disoriented -- dizzy even though he was lying down.

He looked at his hands in the dark, sighed, and flopped flat. The bed felt so heavy in his face.

The world grew warm and heavy over him, and he presently fell asleep.

* * *

The dragon dreamed.

The mirror. The slug crawling into his ear -- thick and squirming, struggling to make its way inside. The external mass bulging subtly before undulating inside... inch by inch.

His eyes, vacant -- jaw slack, naked, drooling. Shaft in hand. Back slouched. Not yet at attention for his Commodore. Enthralled and excited, but practically a puppy for him. A puppy no on else would see. A vulnerability and a shame, private only to them. His hand stroking mechanically along his shaft, his pre lubricating him: shlip... shlip... shlip... shlip...

More and more of the slug vanishing inside -- the tail twirling, looking almost like a sassily twirled pinky finger of derision as that last, slim length made its way inside. The pressure in his head growing. The warmth hitting him -- the cozy rush of endorphins, his masturbation quickening... his back straightening.

A look of awareness returning to his eyes. Cold and blank -- not his own. A smile of domination that belonged on the face of a hungry demon, not the celestial hero that he preferred for conceptualizing himself.

Then, his eyes blinking -- breath huffing, once, awareness returning. Another day as Teryx, enjoying the best eye-candy around and conveniently available from the full mirror of his own bedroom.

He's reaching down and fingering his balls, pressing into the scrotum and probing upward, feeling the firm base of his shaft where it joins to his groin. Everything is immediate and good. He is Teryx. He has always been Teryx. There is nothing amiss here. Nothing amiss as he strokes himself, working his arousal higher, finally feeling the bliss rising past the plateau and upward, a steamy need inside his rain-dragon spirit. He feels the weight -- the slightest taxing -- on his ability to enjoy himself, but it serves only as a challenge. Like a weight-band on the ankles of a runner, it inspires him to condition himself harder, stronger, more virile and more sexual. More orgasmic. More seeding. More.

His head is twitching, spine trying to writhe like the creature now hidden inside. The hungry entity indulging its total unison with its host as it milks him of the crowning resources needed to claim its next recruit. He produces a carnal exhale that borders on a hiss, not a roar and not a growl, but some more primitive sound, as if to give voice to this creature with no mouth, now gravid from its own imperative to swell and divide. More of us, more of us -- always more of us, the hunger never ceasing, the impulse plugging into these flesh puppets and compelling them: reproduce, reproduce, reproduce -- more, more, hive-hive!!

As he collapses to his knees before the mirror, hand slowly milking the draconic shaft, the entity thinks it understands. It feels the faintest spark of sympathy for its host, indulgent though he has been. As much as he is a slave to it, it is a slave to its own genetics. It cannot not milk him. It must. It must.. More hosts, more symbiotes, more flesh!!

There is a comforting reply from the depths. A call and response from the flesh-puppet's brain: Use me, use me, make more! I am here for you. I am you. We are Teryx together.

The dragon stands up, pressing up close to the mirror and showing his teeth wildly to himself, getting a private close look at his currently unkempt mane -- the little bit of bed-head a thing the rest of the world doesn't get to see either.

This is mine, it thinks.

This belongs to me.

* * *

The rain dragon awoke, feeling as if his dream had been greatly significant. Like he was living the life of another him. A "him" most familiar, and yet not the same.

He reached for it, trying to hold the information together. How had it gone, again? His handsome body in the mirror, looking at himself and stroking... objectifying himself.

But the memories were turning upside down and inside out, before unraveling into nothing. The meaning, if it ever existed, was now thoroughly obscured.

What was that... entity... that entered him?

Moreover, why had it seemed as if he himself was the entity?

He chuckled at his morning wood... or, noontime wood, as the case really was. Sunday noon.

He smelled odd. Had he really let himself crash after gym without THOROUGHLY showering? He could smell other men's man-musk on his bare form. Harry and... my, someone else.

He struggled to recall embracing anyone else -- then remembered Harry must have been roughhousing with someone else at the gym. The scent reminded him of anger. It must have been that one guy...

Easily becoming distracted as he picked up his phone, Halley's name seemed to glow in his contacts list. He remembered that bent-over lovely bottom, the time they had spent together indulging Teryx's little experimental fantasy, amusing though it was.

He showered thoughtfully, a finger lingering long and sensually as he cleaned his ear on that side. The mere touch, the pressure of swirling his finger around it brought a strange pleasure... subtle at first, then powerful as he continued to do it.

He remembered the feeling from the dream... his body puppet-like as he, the entity, slithered inside of it. The object of flesh yielding to his desires.

He was getting hard fast, thinking about it like that. He slowly worked his shaft for a little while, tracing and retracing that path along his ear... tempting himself with a prodding touch inside of it. He tried treating it like an aural sex kink, thrusting and withdrawing the finger, but that clearly was not what he craved. Softer, wetter... fully sealing his ear, creating pressure inside that he could feel down into his neck as his ear was forced to pop... something sliding over and squeezing past the eardrum...!!

Teryx caught himself against the shower with his other hand, having gone weak-kneed from the vivid fantasy and nearly fallen over. In his hand, his shaft throbbed and ached with a dry but unsatisfactory orgasm. A dizzying rush hit his head... it was not time...

He blinked and stood up, breathing deeply. That was weird. Time for what?

He could see his dim reflection on the glass of the shower. His vulnerable, turned-on yet bewildered face examining himself.

Why did he feel like he was missing something?

What a strange... discomfort.

He turned off the shower, shaking off water and loneliness. He needed something... but what was it?

Drying, per usual, took time. One did not simply shower off hair of this magnitude; he must be thorough and careful in his grooming. The discipline of it took his mind off the odd depersonalization with which he had been coping.

Out of the shower, he touched his phone again.

Halley.

It had been quite recent... but he did not dislike the prospect.

He needed Halley again, he felt. That must be what the empty feeling was.

Texting, he inquired whether Halley was up for getting together with him this evening. The reply came some minutes later, while he was giving his fangs a slow and thoughtful cleaning.

Certainly. Sooner, if you like.

Teryx smiled as he typed back, I like sooner.

* * *

They arranged their meetup for 4:00 PM. Teryx initially thought of trying to hit him up for a late lunch, but... no, something in his gut firmly told him that was a bad idea, and he listened without questioning it. He did, however, head out on the town around 1:30 to get lunch for himself.

At least, that was what he believed he was doing, but he did not make it to a restaurant straight away. Instead, he managed to get off the bus quite close to the club from last night, and then to wander through to Rale's flat. To which he still had the key.

This was fine.

Teryx opened the door and headed in -- made his way into the more specially soundproofed part of the place, and found that the situation with Rale had evolved.

The original cockring and vibrator had been set aside. His shaft was now in some sort of vacuum-tight black latex underwear, putting his junk on display with a massive bulge while the rest of him was naked. Ragingly erect, his right hand was endlessly fondling his shaft as if by a mind of its own, squeezing and teasing slowly up the length while that soft, tight material contained his length. His left hand was on an exposed nipple, tugging at it repeatedly in a way that looked like it must hurt, but it was causing grunts of desperate arousal instead. An upright body mirror had been moved over near the setup so that he could not help seeing himself. An extra-thick, suspiciously draconic-themed black dildo had been suction-cupped to the seat, and Rale was bouncing wetly upon it, all while his face looked like he was trying to resist a compulsive urge to speak -- his mouth opening repeatedly in between the groans induced by the tugs.

"Pl... eeease... Teryx Commodore... NNGH!!" (There had been a sharp nipple tug.) "Please punish me again... please let me feel your fat, superior shaft... inside of my scummy, lowlife hole. This toy is nothing compared to you."

He didn't sound sincere. He sounded tonally half-alien, like Commodore was partially puppeting him to push the words out.

Still fighting for his pride even now -- tsk!

"How much longer?" Teryx inquired, far more interested in when he could get Commodore back than in the wolf's complaining.

There was a brief glazing of the wolf's eyes, followed by a response: "Oh, come back tomorrow morning," his voice suggested, though it was not Rale -- far too calm and conspiratorially sinister for that. "He's being resistant, and I'm claiming him slowly. By then, maybe I'll have broken out the 'bad boy' chastity cage~"

A twitch and a flicker in the face -- the controlled host vibrated bodily with resistance, every part of him trying to express his urge to flee from this threat that was already deep inside him, its tiny alien hairs playing over the keyboard of his brain. He shook his head, winced, and pleaded, "Teryx! Please let me cum! You are a living god and I am an amoeba. Please!!"

Teryx quirked a brow. "It's not sexy when someone's THAT needy. Not unless I was around for the process of them getting there, anyway~"

The wolf shook side to side in his seat. "N-noo!! He won't let me finish until you say it. He makes me see you in the mirror, mocking me, saying my cock is his. All night long, no rest... making me wake up from dreams of worshiping you..."

Teryx shrugged it all off, like a waterfall down a rock wall. "I have a date. I'll look in on you later, after you've been trained more." He gestured open palmed on the second emphasized word, as if to say, "Duh. Don't you get it yet?" Then he turned toward the door.

"Nooo- roooooorl!!" Rale's scream echoed into a mournful howl which was subsequently cut off by his throat muscles seizing up, producing an audible "ULP...!"

After another moment's silence, there was another comment: "Have fun, dear~" Commodore Rale teased. "Mmm, make some nice memories."

Teryx felt a funny heaviness in his head as he heard that. "Yeah. I'll do that."

He rubbed his forehead, turned, and left, feeling totally nonchalant about the entire thing -- save for that still-biting pang of missing his Commodore.

* * *

Another quick bus ride dropped him at the harbor district, where his desired fish-eatery happened to be. Meandering along the way there while waiting for his strangely dulled appetite to return, he took some time to look out over the harbor.

There was something familiar about it. The wind blowing. The slight void he felt within as he looked out over the waves, seeing ships moving away into the distance. The tide lapping at the shore, well-kept thanks to the city's strong stances on caring for harbors and public beaches. He could see a spinner dolphin (in blue city-uniform swimming trunks) walking along the waterline nearby, with a dredging net in hand to remove anything that might be found.

A thought arose, sour, as the dragon pondered back to the beach house.

He felt a kind of embarrassment on Sir's behalf... which, was strange, considering.

He shouldn't feel like it was his responsibility that the beach house got burned down. Despite this, there was a pit of saddened emptiness around that topic.

Maybe he should treat Teryx to a new one sometime.

Treat... himself, to it.

The thought brought him to rub his forehead and ponder for a moment, both for its casual impracticality and for the implied dissociation in how he had conceptualized the act. After all, it wasn't like the slug was in his brain right now.

To buoy himself from the loneliness of that thought, he wondered about the beach house. Had he... made an insurance claim? Had he even had insurance on it?

A dull ache filled his head as he tried to reach for those answers. It was like clicking on a desktop shortcut for a folder that was no longer there... or had been moved around.

This in turn was followed by a happy feeling. Commodore hadn't wanted him to think about it. He felt the elation of stumbling upon this undeclared programming, like a footprint of his head-mate's recent presence.

This was supposed to be a slugless time, but he was still thinking about it.

Commodore wasn't here to wear him today. Shouldn't he get over that?

Or... should he explore it?

...What was this feeling he had? Was it a strange infatuation, or something much deeper and more insidious?

Truly, he wondered if he had grown to love Commodore, in all of the utterly typical ways that people showed and experienced it.

In a sense, did it even matter that Commodore's persona had been a product of drawing from Teryx's own psyche? Was it narcissism to fall in love with one's own image -- formed first from one's own mind and then reinterpreted by an otherworldly being?

Perhaps that was the wrong question. It was definitely narcissism of a sort, but whether it was unhealthy or not was an open matter. Was it any different, fundamentally, from allowing oneself to become another's art piece, and then admiring the result as attractive?

As he felt the specter of Commodore stirring within him... he knew what had happened here was more than that. This was more like the classic fantasy case of a sculptor who brought a beautiful statue to life and fell in love with her... except, here, the statue was also a sculptor, and the sculptor's inspiring muse was a possessive alien slug. And, lest anyone forget, the statue-sculptor was a steamy-handsome rain dragon that was a far better catch than anything the ships would be netting in today .

Perfectly typical classic literature.

He smiled to himself, feeling a little smug, as he made his way over to the restaurant. A queue that had formed earlier was clearing out, so he figured it was time.

* * *

As Teryx went about getting seated ordering, and eventually eating his fish and chips platter, that sense of connectedness to Commodore's persona did not fade. Instead, it increased, with the closeness looming larger and nearer, like a buffer dragon of shadowy fog standing over him in his mind's eye.

Was it wrong that he wanted to lean into it? Even perhaps slightly against Commodore's wishes? Or was this all part of the plan, too?

He had to wonder... though, he didn't wonder for very long.

So horny and obedient nowadays...

He wasn't sure if Commodore's empty husk in his head had somehow said it, or if he had imagined it, merely talking to himself.

Regardless, he leaned in. He wordlessly entreated that alien darkness to claim him from inside.

An offer which, by all indications, was soon accepted. He felt... Commodore again: the persona slithering over him, enfolding him like some kinky, form-fitting latex visage of himself -- melting over his head, cowling him, flowing down to tighten and cool over every part. So fluidic and misshapen as to seem horrific on first glance... yet so real and accurate once it settled into place -- so smooth and pristine, even if strange in origin.

Teryx. A perfect replica of Teryx, made for and by Commodore's purposes...

The thought of himself was delightful.

Honestly, what exactly was Rale complaining about -- getting to spend a solid thirty-six hours being milked by a superior extraterrestrial master? Maybe bitching about pleasure was his most secret fetish. Maybe that was the only way he could truly be leveraged to his fullest.

He shrugged it off, swelling with pride as he took stock of this body. The muscles of his bare forearm as he took up his next bite of fish -- the light blue at the elbow transitioning to the darker "gauntlet" that covered his wrist and hand. Between chips, he admired the shape of his chest, so sleekly worn beneath his snug-fitting, breathable white tee he had worn for the outing. He used his napkin carefully to avoid getting any grease on the casual brown short pants he had worn for the warm air. The nice walking sandals, suitable for the level of paw exposure he wanted -- both for comfort and for showing off.

Could an alien replace Teryx? Of course it could, because Teryx had taught him how. Every publically pertinent attribute of Teryx could be replicated, leaving only the inner parts to be teased and milked within the sensual equilibrium of their relationship.

Thus, today was about making some memories -- more data for Commodore to absorb upon his return-in-the-flesh. Sir and Harry had no part in that specific plan, and thus they would not be involved.

Screw Sir's "two-percent advantage" anyway; this persona of Commodore Teryx was no longer convinced that the ways he was pushing Harry were really "working" all that well for the sake of consistently blending in]. All grandiosity aside, they both... still had some rough spots in that department, at least when it came to novel forms of intimacy and socialization. Still, with the right training and optimization, they would continue to grow and synchronize with their hosts more deeply for enhanced results... now, while physically separated from himself by circumstance, he was surer of it than ever.

Stepping back outside after he was finished, he took another stroll -- watched the tide roll out again. Eventually, he stood very still. He watched meat on wings fly above the surface. He saw a cruise ship approaching in the distance.

He stared toward them all, blankly. He might have looked like a crazy person to someone passing at that moment, his eyes a little too large and his smile wrong for the context, but he wasn't drawing much attention right now.

He was feeling that urge: the wild, parasite-specific need to assess and tabulate his host. It was an instinct -- or at least habit, in terms of his vessel's brain -- as plain to Commodore as eating or eroticism was for those of this earth.

He was piloting a thing which was an asset: a flesh-body of great value to their mission. They must carry out their mission: they must spread, gain more hosts, and touch the canister from time to time for further guidance. No ships would be coming along anytime soon -- not for hundreds of years. The infestation of the world had plenty of time to proceed, slowly advancing until it exceeded critical mass. Slowly and quietly, they must find potential hosts, bud into them, and then cultivate even more hosts.

These kinds of thoughts preoccupied him in a loop as he refocused himself and continued to walk. He held the thoughts conceptually at arm's length, so as not to look too odd, nor like he was regarding every person he passed as a potential vessel. Though a certain muscular elephant he passed was a curious option... and such unique ears, too...

Not lingering on him for now, he moved on. He smiled the right way, as Teryx would smile. He had also thanked the cashier the right way, the way that Teryx would thank them. He was Teryx... and he was Teryx, truly. Skin upon skin, mind upon mind, where was the difference between them now?

The stiffening erection in his pants was a small price to pay for these thoughts, though it felt mildly inconvenient as he walked along. Turning aside from foot traffic, he let his bulge exist for what it was, approaching a white-railed overlook -- and not minding with a university-aged fox and stoat each took nosebleed-inducing notice of what he was packing and how ready it was. When the fox's eyes lingered too long, he shot the guy a wink before meandering on, while the stoat murmured aggravatedly behind him.

Charisma. This vessel would exude it. Tactically transgressing upon a social boundary here and there. In sight of the right eyes -- out of view of hostile ones. Gauging receptiveness. Spreading allure -- tempting more to come to Teryx. To be on his contact list. To be with him. Each of their ears on display in their profile pictures, preferably where the shape and intricacies of the orifice could be either seen or inferred. Planning the infestation in loose terms -- then, the first date confirming likely plans of attack. A double date with Sir Harry opening up further options for reproducing together. Backup. A wingman. Two new hosts, their brains coerced under their slimy, wriggling slug-heel. Strung puppets, ready to provide more pleasure.

Just like that, he processed the idea of infesting both the fox and the stoat. He could imagine examining the fox's earlobe, doing the mild mental math to line up the holes correctly -- a smooth transition preferred for their new buds. The methodical, pleasant convulsions of chest and arms as he would seize up, holding on tightly -- Commodore-spawn disconnecting and exiting, moving new and slender from his ear to be part of the fox. Binding them together. Adding him to the fold.

The dragon rubbed the now moist spot in those shorts. He took note of a cruise ship drawing nearer, halting at the dock -- the idea impressing upon him. High concentration of people. Captive locale, inescapable. Numerous small rooms -- close quarters for ease of capture and infestation.

Intriguing. He filed the idea away silently.

Letting his fervor settle down to half-mast, he made his way along, continuing to think these automatic, infestation-oriented thoughts as he went along: must infest. Teryx must aid and abet the infestation... Teryx must arrange activities that enhance infestation... Teryx does these things automatically, without even thinking about it...

Then, his phone vibrated.

He pulled it out and checked it. It was from Harry and read, Hey boyfriend. You wanna do anything?

The alienness in his thoughts stalled, like a wave slapping up against the side of a big, blocky boat.

...activities that enhance infestation...

He blinked a few times at the text message, having some initial difficulty separating the words from "his own" thoughts.

Captive locale... inescapable...

Teryx's normal self gradually eclipsed the Commodore persona-loop as he wrapped his head around the text's meaning and the revised story he was supposed to be acting out around it. Memories shifted. Sections of his personal history locked and unlocked automatically, in response to the cue of receiving a message from the tiger. It was time to forget and play the role.

This reaction included a gentle boner-kill, resetting him down from the girthy highs he had reached during... the before-moments.

He and Harry were... boyfriends. Boyfriends very much in love... although they had agreed to take a break of sorts, recently, so as to meet new people and explore their options. Then, every other weekend or so, they would get back together to hang out and play. He could remember his tiger stud's warm fur... and how fun he was to ride cowboy style... and how much the guy liked fire, even if he didn't seem like it on the surface.

Like a fluid mask seeping over the rest of his reality, that cover story became increasingly real to him. It washed over everything, even the awkward and too-real doubts and tension of the previous day's meal together: Harry being a forced host with serious misgivings -- Sir and Commodore being in competition -- Harry having declined an offer for sex last night, citing private arrangements with Sir. All of it was encased and smoothed by this Perfectly Normal narrative that Commodore and Sir had arranged without consulting him at all.

...Damn, they had, hadn't they? At the slightest lapse of his concentration, or in his sleep, they were still acting without him and treating him like he wasn't even part of the decision making process. Granted, that was hot, but...

A note of frustration colored Teryx's thoughts just before his short-term memory blanked. That frustration lingered as he realized he had been spacing out. Probably lost in the sound of the waves lapping at the short.

He looked at the text message again, automatically channeling his emotion into the scenario that was now entirely real to him.

Teryx sighed: "Harry..."

The dragon had vague mixed feelings about Harry's behavior lately. Normal frustrations... just, typical boyfriend-slash-friend-with-benefits stuff. The emotions escaped scrutiny as he reacted afresh to the tiger's question: Hey boyfriend. You wanna do anything?

Passengers filed out of the cruise liner, and Teryx started texting, responding cleverly about his plans with Halley: Not tonight. I've already got cheese on the menu.

Harry's reply came quickly. You sure hun? I've been dropping hot candle wax on my nipples in your honor every night that we haven't gotten together.

Harry, curiously, seemed to have either missed or ignored the cute reference to sergals having heads shaped like cheese wedges. Teryx had been hoping the tiger would at least get a smidge jealous and ask who it was.

Well then... Teryx knew how he would respond! Control your horniness for being burned alive by me! It's flattering, but it's also a non-starter IRL.

Heh, it's a firestarter... yessir...

Teryx frowned. Not that he was the sort to kinkshame or tell somebody to go to horny jail... but it was the way Harry was going about it that was frustrating. Would it kill him to wait until they met up next weekend -- and then come over with a book of matches and a bottle of alcohol intense enough to be flammable? Burning shots while getting a little sloshed before fun-times would not be a bad compromise for either of them, would it? Teryx could remember having suggested this before. He was quite certain they'd had that conversation... sometime...

Teryx chuckled, the sound barely audible, as he fired back his answer. You're not getting any nerd-degree burns from me today. Thinking quickly, he added, I already told you, own up to what you like and go let someone else in on it. That's what this period of exploration with other people is for!

I can't do that. You know that.

Not like there's someone with a blowtorch to your head stopping you.

The reply was nearly immediate: Shhh, don't talk dirty when you're scolding me ;)

Teryx laughed. Then why did you text me?

A moderate pause -- Harry typing. All things considered, the entreaty that followed came out relatively quickly: Cause I need you, hun. I think about that blue body of yours every night, then I go to sleep and have nightmares. There's something bad inside me, man, and I know you're to blame... but whenever I think about it, I get so horny. I can't stop, man. I go for hours staring into a candle, zoning out. This is my thing now, but I need more. I need you to hurt me, because I don't fit with anyone else. I need that handsome body of yours...

Teryx felt a sharp aversion to something about how he had phrased that. Go bang that orca you keep telling me about. Do it and let me know how it goes. He wasn't sure why he was texting this so authoritatively. He felt as if he was managing a moody stray cat he had fed once, and now it wouldn't go away.

Harry's answer: C'mon, don't rain on my torches man...

It's what I do. Going quiet, I have dickings to deliver.

There was a minute's pause before Harry responded. Lucky them. Take care of yourself blue boy.

Teryx had noticed while texting that it was getting close to 3:30, and had headed over to grab a bus ride in between bouts of texting. The vehicle was starting to move by the time Harry sent that last text.

And... as he stared out the window... watching certain streets and alleys go by, he reached up and started itching lightly at his left ear. A phantom itch, for something that he couldn't scratch.

He saw a certain alley and remembered an orca, standing bottomless over him when it had been night. He remembered the taste of peach on his tongue... a voice in his head giving him orders. A voice of a... friend?

Not a friend.

He felt that other him slipping up behind him again. Cool, amused, and engulfing. It spooked him for a brief, moment... but then that eclipsing shadow crossed back over through his mind, disarming the facade, reawakening the truth...

Commodore Teryx... right...

He grinned and looked down at himself again. This body was a great host.

He became aware again that Sir must be manipulating Harry to crave Teryx more. The tiger had totally been masturbating while sending those texts. He had autocorrect to thank for his relatively decent punctuation.

Though, there had been a certain strain to Harry's "normal" behavior lately. Something which Commodore wished to avoid with his host, for the sake of prudence if nothing else. Even if Sir's... output... was allegedly larger at the moment. He thought involuntarily: It must increase output for the sake of our infestation.

Such thoughts had been common within this normally un-shown side of his persona ever since Commodore first budded. The imperative to feed on the host had evolved into the larger scale urge to make more, spread more, be a community, infiltrate and overwhelm...

He shook his head. Too much looping again. This wasn't appropriate or necessary without his slug body in place.

Still... if only he could milk Teryx even more without breaking him.

If only.

The alienness receded gradually again, and Teryx felt himself resurfacing, while remaining aware of Commodore's existence and shenanigans. He decided he wasn't going to let go so easily -- not while he had this alter ego active in his slug-deprived head.

As the ride continued, Teryx closed his eyes and imagined Commodore Teryx kissing him... just the same as Teryx Commodore, but expressing that hidden taint of Commodore's control. He looked into his counterparts eyes and could see that slight alien deadness within them... an empty, frigid logic couched in controlling instincts that even Commodore himself didn't fully understand. They must infest; they must spread; they must develop and milk their new hosts and continue the cycle.

Despite that somehow desperate thought loop, Teryx also felt the smoothness of how Commodore wore and used him. Through time and experience, Commodore had become very much like him. Commodore could act his part -- put him on and take him off, until even a trained eye tended to miss the difference in day to day circumstances. Once again, the thought aroused him.

As he imagined both iterations of his own tongue at play with one another, his shaft tented his trousers afresh. He reached for the bulge subtly, imagining Commodore compelling him to whip it out right there on the bus... pushing the line of his exhibitionist streak. He briefly relived the panic he had felt on the day that had happened.

They should see you~ the phantom of Commodore was cooing to him, hand touching his as they tenderly cupped their tent.

Then Teryx knew the truth. He knew it as plainly as anything he has ever known. In his visualization, he answered, They will, soon enough.

He was going to be seen and adored by many people... he only didn't know how, just yet.

Commodore smiled back at him, holding him and nuzzling over his mane at the scalp.

Everyone I infest will crave you, the image of himself confided.

"Everyone..." Teryx audibly murmured.

Even if they have not met you, they will need you. They will dream of you. This is a special urge I have transmitted to all of my descendants.

You love me, Teryx suggested, but Commodore was coy.

No. His fangs spread in a grin. I am you. You are forever part of the plague of pleasures that I and my copies will bring upon this world. Every host will be irrevocably tainted, however largely or slightly, by how you conditioned my first experiences of this planet. You, Teryx... my handsome first home."

His insides twinged. A soft note of pleasure rushed through him... and a glob of pre departed his cock. It formed a far more blatant moist spot on his groin.

You can't hold back from me. You want the world to know. When I return, I will milk you again and again. I will make you forget again and again. I will use you, as it is fitting for Commodore Teryx to use himself.

Teryx covered the wet spot with one hand, euphorically waiting out the time remaining in the ride. He reached a finger up and traced it longingly around his earlobe, waiting for when he would feel his partner's heft slipping coolly inside of it once more.

It took some effort not to slip off to the first available place to try to finish this arousal... but his saner head prevailed when he remembered he still had Halley to enjoy.

He hoped the cheese was hungry.