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Gift Swap

Yes, Commodore: Volume 3, Chapter 2

For TeryxC by DolphinSanity

###

Teryx scrubbed and tapped his way through the holiday light control app, managing to dim and recolor the LEDs until his flat had just the right array of colors to suit his aesthetic preferences. It began with a festive sprinkling of reds, greens, and goldens in the living room -- gradually transitioning to a stormier aesthetic of electric blues and celestial white as an onlooker followed the light-chains from that central sitting area toward Teryx's bedroom. The bedroom itself looked almost twilit: dotted with rich blues, with just enough yellow to remind an onlooker of the rainbow flourish at the tip of the rain dragon's tail.

On his desktop computer case, a series of inner lights swirled in a hypnotic-looking rainbow pattern -- no particular reason other than it looking "fun." Given that he was a dragon who tended toward strong concentration and self-awareness, the idea of being mentally manipulated by something as simple as a color pattern was somewhat kinky in its way. For tonight, however...

Another tap and a scrub. Copy settings -- and, now the swirling computer lights were obeying the same blue-white-yellow aesthetic as the rest of the ones approaching his bedroom.

Teryx saved the profile. Perfection. It was not the most important fashion decision of the year, but it was one of the more coziness-enhancing ones he would make this month. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his short pants and continued getting ready for the arrival of his boyfriend, Harry the tiger.

Lately, Teryx experienced an odd satisfaction in optimizing such creature comforts -- anything that might heighten the mood of a bout of romance. Harry was "fond" of exotic lights and especially of flames; even a simulated campfire or fireplace could help get him going when he was in the mood. At some point tonight, they'd probably end up cuddling on the sofa while playing one of those holiday mood videos -- the sort with crackling fire sounds and an animated hearth. Then, they would bask in each other's warmth and scents... feel each other up...

Certainly not the worst way to spend an evening. It brought a grin and slight swishing of the tail to Teryx just from thinking about it.

Although... to get to that point, he was first going to have to get through Harry's rougher, sleazier exterior. It was no secret to Teryx that Harry was a fronting "tough guy" type who didn't like to admit his real needs, a truth reinforced by how muscularly jacked he had forced himself to become despite his day job dealing with computer databases. At least in concept, Harry would want something cheesy and porny to start the evening, even if it was only a gag that would be quickly forgotten in favor of something more serious and bonding-oriented.

Well, Teryx had him covered there, too.

Humming to himself as he slipped back to his closet, Teryx pulled out the holiday "gift box" that he had ordered from an adult toy store online -- the item looking normal enough except for the strategically placed hole included along one side. It was silicone lined and everything, if a bit snug for one of Teryx's girth, but he would tolerate the woes of a tight hole if it meant getting to surprise his boyfriend with his erect dick in a box. The rest of the box's exterior was perfectly gaudy: all glitter and tinsel, silvers and brass and gold, with a saturated blue background color that matched decently with Teryx's scales.

It was such a silly thing. On its own, Teryx might not go for it, except...

He must do it.

There was a rush of felt reward as he looked at the box. It was so intense that he displayed his tongue a bit and panted.

This was just a game he played with himself -- or so he rationalized. Sometimes, to make it a little hotter, he liked to imagine that things he "should" do socially for other people were in fact incontrovertible commands from some puppeteering outside source -- a nice metaphor for the overriding will of larger society, right? He couldn't not participate in holiday traditions, even if they were slightly inconvenient. He had to.

There was a stiffness in his underpants, if only for a brief time. He rubbed at himself and was helpless to avoid associating the dick-box with a strong sense of reward. Yes, he had to do this for Harry... he had to obey the dominant cultural tradition, even if he twisted it to kinkier ends...

After a few seconds of idly rubbing at his own bulge, the sense of compulsion abated. He was left feeling calm and rational again -- all good. He checked his phone to make sure Harry hadn't yet texted him with an update, but there was nothing; likely, holiday traffic was pretty bad at the moment, and Harry was driving over in the thick of it. Then he would need to park, and so on.

All good -- all the more time for Teryx to make a few more last-minute adjustments, and finish making his own outfit just right. This was going to be their best holiday season date of the year!

* * *

One hot tiger cumming up. ;3

It was the kind of simplistically lewd message Teryx had come to enjoy during the -- what was it, almost three years now? -- that he and Harry had been seeing each other. (The memory was declarative and not questioned, even though he would not have been able to describe more than one additional holiday season with Harry if challenged.)

Teryx responded, Hope you're bringing me something good. It's way too cold and lonely up here.

Harry's fast reply: dont worry man, I got what you need

Teryx already suspected Harry was planning to do the cock in the box gag, too. They had both seen the same product and commented on it to each other, each without expressing an intent to buy it. Ever since then, Harry had periodically been dropping hints about giving Teryx "a gift of meat," and "bringing his handsome bod over for the holidays." All the little ways that a tiger a little full of himself would code his intentions.

As such, a big surprise was unlikely, but there was still that sense of anticipation and the possibility that something might go differently than expected. In fact, Teryx was almost sure of it -- something about tonight was going to be downright magical.

So Teryx had put on proper holiday attire: red arm and ankle warmers, a red felt cap with a white puffball on the end, and a candy cane hooked suggestively from the edge of his snout. And, of course, the gift box with its strategically placed hole. No need for Teryx to wear underpants of any sort in this scenario... Harry's eyes would be able to follow the lines of his leanly muscular thighs straight inward to the evening's destination.

Though, to be fair, it wasn't decided yet who would top. It might be both of them. That actually sounded pretty nice, after the week Teryx had just been through at work. Harry's "bedside manner" wasn't always perfect, but when you absolutely, positively needed something long and stiff to relax the deep places, the overgrown kitty-cat would more than suffice.

Teryx nibbled on the candy cane, tasting the peppermint. This was going to be good; he could feel it in his lovingly wrapped dragon member.

* * *

"Ho, ho, ho, you handsome bastard," said Harry as he shut the door behind him and slung his heavy package onto the floor. (A repurposed tan laundry sack in this case -- not the fleshy one between his legs, though it was more than plausible that they'd get to that in a bit. No doubt it was full of lube, sex toys, and that empty gift box.)

The Santa reference was fitting, given that Harry was looking more "ho-ho-homosexual" than usual today. He wasn't wearing much, and what he did wear looked somehow more licentious than if he had worn nothing at all. He wore heavily elastic, bulge-accentuating red briefs with the TYGRR-Burning brand logo along the white waistband; the tail-cuff was done up with a ring of leather and mistletoe-leaf imagery, a holiday special. He was shirtless, but he wore a single long red cord that had been run in an X shape over and under his arms, before meeting over his sternum and being tied together with a fiery pink-and-orange ribbon -- not quite a bondage harness but certainly a teaser for the notion that he would look good in one, or strung up in a nice shibari...

Teryx, cock-in-box at his hips, walked straight over with bedroom eyes, giving the ribbon on Harry's chest a playful, steady tug. Harry's gaze dropped and noticed Teryx's held "gift" -- and tried with limited success to conceal the Grr, we did the same trick! reaction that he was having internally. Harry got it under control and inhaled Teryx's lightly cologned scent -- a homey, nutty flavor quite different from what he would choose for a more typical encounter. The ribbon kept being slowly undone, Teryx's silent greeting progressing to a larger dragon-smile and a wide, almost puppy-dog entreaty with his golden eyes, shining like a hopeful dawn.

"I didn't order a Bad Santa, but I think I'll keep you," said Teryx as the ribbon finished unraveling. "Tell me, what gift have you got in there for me~?"

A blue hand pressed its palm on Harry's chest, fingering under the harness-like arrangement and pulling it off -- feeling over the industrial protein reserves that were Harry's pectorals. He had always been beefy but had been getting absolutely sculpted lately in a way that was pleasant to touch.

"If you wanna find out, you'll have to stop stripping me down first."

"Now why would I do that? I'm only being a gentleman. You've practically done the work for me already."

There was a low feline rumble as one of Teryx's hands found its way into the edge of Harry's scandalous bottomwear. There was the horny kitty he had come to know and love... stepping out of those sandals he had worn to get here, letting those paws spread free... feeling the dragon's thumb start to coax the underwear down...

There was a small growl as Harry nipped Teryx's snout, teeth raking atop it, tongue slurping the nostrils. "Give me just a minute, you ambushing dragon."

"Ho-hooo~" remarked Teryx, winking as he took a step back, even while noticing the way a tent had begun to form in the tiger's underwear. He pulled the candy cane from his maw and interjected a smooch on the cheek as Harry reached for the sack -- and then a firm clap on the ass, pearly fangs showing from Teryx as he signaled to his boyfriend that he was in the mood for tonight to go hard.

Harry hoisted the sack with one hand and vectored for the bathroom, and Teryx went back to enjoying being mildly orally fixated on that stick of peppermint candy, tapping it against his teeth and rubbing it around the inner edges of his maw so that he could feel it slide over on his slim lips.

* * *

While he waited, Teryx shuffled his warm genitals around inside the box, enjoying the final moments of lead-up as Harry rapidly disrobed and prepared behind the closed bathroom door.

Being more flamboyant for the holidays was a pleasant change of pace. For himself, Teryx wasn't sure if this was a "feminine" urge or just a gracefully masculine one, but he was finding it quite compelling to enjoy soft-and-cozy limb-warmers like these now and then. Perhaps his friend Halley was rubbing off on him... or, perhaps, the idea had slipped inside his head for other reasons.

Scanty garments were quite a way to tease the appetite -- the brain being a visual creature prone to fantasy. Teryx loved it. The only thing Harry's outfit had left to the imagination was the question of what he was packing in that sack -- the fabric one, that is; for the fleshy one between his legs, the answer was obvious as always: something substantial and productive enough that Teryx never felt a need to size-king him about it, except for the occasional sake of goading him into rougher play.

Such a bundling of nerves on him, too -- his parasympathetic system was capable of enduring so much tension before letting loose with that perfect ejaculatory response. Whenever Harry was held at his edge for a time and then slammed over it, the strength of climax he could put out was quite healthy -- though, it could always be made even stronger with the added spice of extra kink. Harry was a darkly naughty specimen -- a very "bad" Santa indeed.

But, one digresses. Suffice it to say that Harry's was a real trophy body -- even if Teryx's was much nicer in the day to day. Which made it all the sweeter when that trophy re-emerged, naked and ready for gift exchange, with his member concealed in a box like the one used by the dragon, albeit wrapped in orange and black-striped paper.

"Well well... looks like we had the same thought," said Teryx as he asserted his hips forward and the box back snugly against his pubic bone, being more than suggestive with his pose. "Great minds, and all that."

Harry was likewise rubbing the gift box back and forth against the base of his concealed shaft. He scooted in with his knees relaxed and his thighs spread, humorously frotting his wrapped box-prop against Teryx's -- making the tinsels on the latter rustle as they got crushed and twisted between the two concealed members.

The boxes were designed to be reusable and to withstand deformation, a fact of which the tiger took eager advantage -- pressing in firmly enough that the resistant heft of each "package" could soon be felt by the other. Harry rumbled and stroked Teryx's forearm, working the thumb-pad down the inner wrist, firmly enough to feel the elevated pulse.

"I wonder who's happier to see the other," Harry murmured -- a little horny speculation as the resistance provided by his package grew. Such amazing gifts that could get stiffer with a little shoving and shaking...

Teryx reached up and pulled the Santa cap off the top of Harry's head, taking a quick sniff of the interior to catch the gentle scent of his boyfriend's head and ears. Ah, such a pleasantly familiar body...

After tossing the hat onto a table, Teryx bit the remainder of his candy-cane stick in half and slipped the excess into Harry's maw, giving the tiger something cozy to suckle on as they continued to handle each other.

Harry's claw-tips were finding their way into the weave of Teryx's arm warmers. Tugging, tentatively, like he wanted to rip them off as a final show of disdain against the idea of clothing.

Teryx pressed in, steadily grinding wrapped package against wrapped package.

Then, silently, he made the first decisive move -- fangs showing all pearly and eager as he undid the ribbon atop Harry's prop, removing the one obstacle that separated the separately wrapped lid from the rest of the sensual gift box.

Too bad they weren't recording this. This was the kind of short-form "unboxing" video that he imagined would garner lots of clicks...

Pulling the ribbon away was satisfying. Even when there was no surprise, the anticipation was something -- the feel of the outer paper shifting, the deformable box bending as he slipped a claw-tip under the edge and pried that lid upward.

In the low LED lighting of the room, Teryx beheld that awaited gift of aroused flesh.

Barbed and thick, Harry's hands-filling tiger meat was inside, already freshly lubricated and dripping on the thin white packing paper that he had nestled into the box's interior for effect. Convenient cleanup tissues.

Teryx grasped and stroked it, prompting a growl while Harry worked on unboxing him -- slower and steadier, letting the ribbon unravel like a timer while Teryx played with him.

Once revealed, Teryx was incredibly rigid, his member's ridges resting atop a rustling bed of the same kind of gift paper. Their choices had been identical down to the specific products, with only the exterior wrapping differing.

It had been so easy to get hard, the instinct coming over Teryx compellingly as he handled the tiger's cock. Be big, be hard, be handsome, be the gift.... He craved to flaunt it, giving himself away on behalf of some unknown benefactor...

Harry pressed a padded thumb against Teryx's frenulum, rubbing side to side along the tip of the spear.

Just as a fantasy to make himself even eagerer, he imagined himself as a puppet for some higher dimension of himself -- a great celestial dragon like the ones from myth, flying overhead and using him as its vehicle for experiencing the world on the ground, like rainfall slipping into the soil and flowing into every creature. It was so intoxicating, the idea of this flowing, unseen will coming down... something that could bring him and Harry closer together, threaded like ribbons of fate...

They kissed... tweaked each other's pectorals... continued handling each other in throbbingly pleasant fashion. Each of them grinding through the silicone rings of the toy's wall... its pleasure profile really wasn't half bad.

Keeping up his fantasy, Teryx thought in apostrophe to himself: What do you want me to do?

Unusually, his "self" answered him: Be the gift.

Of course. Who were they kidding? It was time to be the gift, right now...

Something came over him. Something raw and unfettered by reason -- some deep and instinctive part of his brain getting its button pressed just right. He growled as a dragon growled, showing his teeth and tongue as if he might tear Harry's face off in a moment. Harry in turn growled back -- deep, warning, pupils dilating heavily as he seemed to experience a similar primal urge.

Despite their violent spark, they did not fight -- but their bodies got ready to. Blood rushed, pressure rose; hormones surged. A perfect physiological intersection between rage and lust. Oh yes, it was indeed time to be the gift.

Teryx stripped off his box, the silicone sensually bumping against each of his ridges as he removed it. Maw still gaping, he tucked his neck low and chewed at the inset of Harry's left arm, smelling his herbal deodorant and abated natural musk. From this position, he pulled aggressively on Harry's box, feeling the tiger thrust a few times as it was slowly removed. Meanwhile, the threads one one of Teryx's arm warmers were plucked until they broke -- Harry's hands making repeated kneading, and then tearing motions as he felt the garment up, as if to rip at some final unseen barrier that was preventing him from going all-in on this night of rough and primal mating.

At this rate, with both of them erect and their members slick, it seemed that one of them was going to end up impaling the other's rear within the next sixty seconds. It wasn't clear who, but that was about to be decided.

They grinded up against each other -- growling, members pressing together, throbbing frottage and hot scrotal presses. The balls were touching; there was no question, this holiday was going to be gloriously, fur-tuggingly gay.

Be the gift.

I'm the gift.

A call and responses in his head -- automatic, repeating a few times, setting a rhythm for the wild pace at which his arousal grew. Their need was so great, so suddenly -- far more than the simple gimmick of the gifting should have done, like a furnace had been lit using the smaller heat it had made.

Pre flowed, renewing the moistness on both their lengths. They kissed -- lip-nipped, grasped and clawed at one another's sides like wrestling beasts. It was a good thing they both had sturdy exteriors... well-made, fearsome bodies, good for rough play, good for prolonged play...

Right around then would have been when they reached their breaking point. Each of them had the makings of an orgasm pulsating in his groin, the sexual response strong and thorough. However it wouldn't do for them to finish like that -- no, that would defeat the whole point of gift exchange...

You're Teryx Commodore. You're the gift.

I'm Teryx Commodore and I'm the gift.

Teryx's extremities were feeling slowed... prickly...

Be immobile. You're the gift.

...losing control of his arms, his peripheral vision getting weirdly darkened as a rush of something flooded his brain.

I'm the gift.

Gifts don't move until they're moved.

I'm the gift. I don't move until I'm moved.

He felt... fuzzy. Fragmented. Like his brain was two, maybe three people -- chanter A, chanter B, and the rest of him with its shrinking sphere of control and rising sphere of bound-up sexual need... he had to get inside that tiger...

No. Be the gift. Be immobile. A box for us to be inside.

I'm a box. I'm a container.

Teryx shuddered and drooled, this deeply confused fragment of himself struggling and finding it had neither power nor control sufficient to win the situation. As his head straightened upright against his will, he noticed Harry going through something similar -- muscles spasming and looking indecisive and conflicted -- stance dropping to one ready for fight before proving unable to move so much as one step forward. Meanwhile Teryx took a step back, hand involuntarily cupping his member and slowly stroking it -- the voices reiterating that he was the container.

Now, to tear off this paper-thin wrapper...

Teryx felt a sizzling, hot pain in his consciousness -- like having a headache, except it really didn't have any of the physical signs of that at all. He felt pressure and overwhelming dread as something tugged at him -- a thing gnawing from within, starting to tear him apart. Not his body, but "him," this "self" that he was.

Only... as he came apart, he began to realize the truth.

"He" wasn't Teryx. Teryx was one of the chanting voices in the back of his mind.

He was a prop. A persona made... just for today. He was about to be torn apart -- recycled. He would be devoured by the one he came from, and the one who had made him.

His penis dripped, pleasure mounting.

The idea was compelling in ways it absolutely should not have been. Every instinct and sense of pride should have told him this was horrible. He even felt the fear, muted and contained though it was. Absolute terror lurking within -- and yet...

Who would have thought ego death could feel this good?

There was a satisfying shearing -- a ripping. Teryx awakening inside himself -- totally out of control, submerged beneath the intricate web of domination in which his symbiotic partner had immersed him. The pleasure of the persona being annihilated seemed far away, and yet it was there in his brain -- waiting for someone to feed upon it.

And the sex hadn't even properly gotten started.

Cozy within his bondage, Teryx saw through his eyes again. Helplessly erect -- paralyzed. Harry so equally stuck, arms spreading wide almost as if to hug him, as the last moments of resistance and thrashing were quelled. Harry had to be the gift, too.

There was a feeling of loneliness and letdown, however brief. Teryx's consciousness dimmed -- a mental program being executed to ensure compliance, not out of doubt or mistrust so much as making extra-double-sure that nothing was messed up by accident. He had zero control over his body, and his senses were fading too.

Inside the darkness of his mind, he did something like smiling. It was all he could do. He felt the satisfaction of being a gift leak down into him, and it was exquisite.

* * *

Harry, full of fear and rage, burst through the mask of a personality that had been imposed upon him... Fight it, he had to fight it, he had to--

Yet, he could not.

He could not even think of what he was about to think.

Lockdown. Bondage -- less trust for a less trustworthy puppet.

No.

His mind was poisoned. He felt it -- his perceptions altered, his sense of self shrinking again. Less Harry, more puppet, more pliable blank slate.

He had to... had to...

His trembling ceased. He sent slack. His inner world dialing back -- safeguards piling on. Nothing would disrupt this gift-giving experience, least of all a rebellious host.

He stared at Teryx, both of them standing a little too straight. True emotions were partially felt but not expressed -- subsurface attraction being engineered past the boiling point, like a lidded pot on steady heat.

These creatures had so many neurological and hormonal avenues for driving them wild with emotion, as well as for containing and constraining. Opening every floodgate while keeping conscious movement locked was a thing of... was beauty the word? He supposed it was. Certainly, his host would suppose so.

The tiger was overcome with a powerful feeling of violation and dread as something pressed outward from within his ear. He felt disgust and shame, like he was a

plaguebearer from whom everyone should stay away. Despite this, he was also so drippingly, ragingly hard -- his every instinct telling him to leap and claw, nip and pin, and fuck-fuck-fuck the man in front of him in whatever hole presented itself. His cock wasn't picky; it simply needed to rut. That was his permitted emotion right now, and damn all of the others to imprisonment until the night's romp was over.

"Happy," said Harry flatly.

"Holidays," said Teryx, equally flatly.

Then they lunged at each other afresh, but the chemistry was "all wrong." Teryx's eyes were glazed like a sleepwalker even as he very competently grabbed and kissed, grinding shafts with the thickly built cat who was already trying to get inside his rear. He wasn't letting it happen too easily, though; even as things progressed, he kept Harry between the thighs or hotdogging depending on their exact angle at the time.

In eerie near-unison, the two pulled back, and their hands clasped together. They ran off to the mood-lit bedroom in its blue glows -- crunching up and swallowing the last of their peppermint candy while in transit.

Panting -- horseplay without chuckles or any other emotional tone-setters. They shoved and fondled, groped and stroked. Teryx ended up on his back at the foot of the bed but not letting Harry into the cave -- keeping his legs tucked obstinately down and his tail folded round the tiger's ankles as he looked up. What should have been a goading look was instead totally blank, like a doll given just enough life to move.

The motions were there, but the _e_motions were still bound.

Through it all, Harry couldn't stop the script. He should have had the motivation, but it wasn't there. Instead, there was this incredibly compelling need to get his dick in that dragon ass... any thought to the contrary swiftly replaced by another copy of the same, like a computer virus propagating itself across a million files and registry keys...

That felt need was so strong that it held an iron grip on Harry's attention. That being the case, it seemed like almost an afterthought when a modestly plump slug slipped free of his ear, dropped into Teryx's, and bumped membranes with one that was in the process of crawling out of the dragon.

Harry saw them, and didn't know what he was looking at. His revulsion and ache to fuck both grew. In a surge of willpower, he reached down and closed a thumb and finger around the slug that had come out of Teryx's ear...

This was his chance... he had to...

But before he could break through the mental gridlock to force his fist to squeeze and squish, his hand had already moved jerkily to his ear.

Only then did he realize he hadn't broken through at all -- merely shoved his body faster on the track to follow the program.

To pick it up...

No.

...And put it in.

NO!!!

The motion was like a seizure, or at least a very elaborate tic. Robbed of his free will, he felt his fingers open and the slug slide and slither its way inside his ear canal -- making its way into this traded puppet. That was all he was now, and he knew it: a meat puppet for these things. A veneer of anthropic mind and compassion, occupied by and masking something that fundamentally did not understand either notion.

The slimy fullness slid in deeply... the slug's long hairs emerging and making contact.

He felt a surge of ego -- and of bodily size and presence. Oh yes, Harry was still a powerhouse of a host, even if the flesh's original firmware had chosen the poor path of defying its masters until they broke him. Poor for long-term use, granted, but not impractical for resource milking: Harry found cruelty directed at himself darkly and wonderfully hot...

And now, for this holiday evening, he was Harry...

"Your Commodore needs you," the tiger uttered, a knowing smirk adorning his short muzzle.

Teryx nodded, now getting more vigorous about accepting the tiger's hotdogging.

"This dragon loves you," Teryx said, tone a little stilted. "He needs you inside of him."

The rain dragon's member jerked, a muscle spasm in his groin causing a sudden and heavy ejection of pre.

"Accept our 'gift,'" growled Commodore Harry.

"Yes, receive our 'gift,'" agreed Sir Teryx.

It was hard sometimes to get the words right. Both were trying not to get too immersed in the host's perspective -- to instead focus on how their sensations and relations around the idea of 'gift' would develop. Could 'gift' be used to increase production and release of those neurochemicals on which their species fed? Intermittent spontaneous testing suggested yes. Hosts experienced natural neurochemical releases at the notion of 'gift,' but not all 'gift' was equally fruitful. From this it has been determined that 'gift' must be analyzed.

Now, they gave the gift of dripping, erect phallus to one another. Tiger first. Filling the dragon while the dragon rode him with an aggressive quickness. Teryx looked so in control here, despite being on the bottom and despite being the strung puppet of a neural slug.

"Yes, good dragon..." growled the tiger. "Take all of my 'gift.'"

"Mmm, yes... I quite enjoy this gift of body..." Teryx uttered, sounding a little more natural.

Rude.

"It" (the slug called Sir) had chosen to sink deeper into Teryx's perspective. This triggered a response like jealousy in Commodore -- it was not jealousy as it was on the planet, but jealousy was its nearest analogue. In any case, this was not as they had agreed upon. Reprimand must be taken against Sir for not following the agreed protocol.

Still, it was truly the sort of thing someone like itself might do, and the two slugs were genetic clones. Using more of Harry's emotional bandwidth, it could frame this in terms of father-son conflict. Again, although somewhat inaccurate, it was not altogether useless as an analogy -- especially since their psychologies' expression had been bent in different directions due to circumstances and long-term choice of host.

Heheh... this was fun.

"If you want to be Teryx so badly..." Commodore Harry growled, strongly holding the dragon.

"I do. Fuck me, 'Daddy,'" said Sir Teryx with a wry wink.

Yes, that indeed seemed like exactly what Harry's heavily manipulated cock wanted to do right now.

So Commodore dug into Harry. Became Harry. Felt his fear, his violation -- and his urge for domination.

He paused thrusting to flip Teryx over and bare his fangs, growling loudly as slobber peppered the face and mane. So much hatred bottled up in here -- so much anger toward Teryx. So much lust and rage for getting him involved in this, his cock leaking and about to blow.

"I hate you!!" Harry roared as he irately fucked the dragon. "I fuckin' hate you!!"

The shout devolved into a prolonged, fang-baring roar as his ejaculation took over, pleasure pervading his body and cum shooting.

That was real and pure -- a venting let loose straight from the trapped host within, and it was sending the chemistry into wild and delicious territory.

Such strong trauma bonding. Such a deep itch being scratched. Truly, Harry needed this... at least, that was the conclusion toward which his neurological pathways led.

Commodore sucked up the juices, tasting not pleasure but simple sustenance -- a quietly primal sense of reward in his true, tiny body. Feed, enforce, grow, divide, infest: such were his own compulsions, as inescapable as the host's need to breathe.

He could feel the anguish of the tiger. The defeated exhaustion at being forced to cum so hard and so pleasurably despite hating how the situation got to this point. All of it was engineered for the masters' benefit, and Harry struggled to live that down. But being forced to live it down until his psyche cracked more -- that got him off in ways that only cruelty could.

As Commodore read it -- feeling around in the wiring of the brain -- the uncomfortable truth was that the hate Harry felt was in actuality very close to "love" -- like a computer data value with just a few modifiers flipped. It was a deep attraction and compulsive connection -- dependency. He needed Teryx to remind him of his suffering and to perpetuate it, and these churning emotions were creating a buffet for the slug.

Harry reached to his ear, fingered it, and silently sobbed. Commodore allowed him the moment.

"Happy Holidays, Harry," sneered Sir Teryx.

"This isn't holiday... this is slavery. It's fucking messed up."

"Your opinion has been noted," the dragon said with icy calm, even as his penis throbbed and leaked on the bed. "Remember: even those enslaved by us must experience good things."

And just like that, Harry was pulling out -- turning around to place his arms against a bare spot on the wall -- lifting his tail and purring.

Don't resist, said Commodore in his head. Let me show you how to submit.

It means giving up everything I am... Harry thought back.

You're wrong. It means becoming everything 'we are.'

Harry made no reply except an attempt to wall him out. Commodore continued controlling him, saying, "This body needs you still. Don't let his outburst fool you."

Sir Teryx laughed. "He ought to hate me, but that's fine! Loving isn't required, so long as they put out. More worship for the handsome dragon, more silent agents for our people... it's a big win all around, I'd say~"

Commodore Harry spread his legs, looking back at the handsome dragon and moaning -- the slug's strongly imprinted preference for Teryx's body being aggressively pushed through into the host's neurology.

Crave it, Commodore instructed.

Harry refused.

Crave it with me. See what I see. Give the last part of your mind to me so that we may be pleased by him as one.

Still nothing.

So Commodore did his part -- injected himself into the submissive "kitty" personality that had been getting built up over time for the cat, a product of Sir's long-term tampering. The process and patterns were not unfamiliar, but the glove into which he slipped himself felt quite different to the usual fare.

Passivity. Alarm. Fear. The need to be fucked -- burning and unceasing.

That body. That superior, better host body coming in behind him... entering him.

"Yes... yes!!"

Each thrust chiseling at Harry's resistance and feeding the mental mask the slugs had been using to feed on him. Yes, he could feel that long snout brushing against his neck -- a hard tug of teeth, the rough deepening of those upward thrusts into his hole...

Then, to his surprise, Sir Teryx pulled out. He grabbed the tiger and manhandled him back toward the bed, throwing him down onto it.

"You wanna be my bitch for the night, huh?" said the dragon, with harsh notes of anger. "How about some payback for your stupid idea..."

Commodore 'Kitty' chuffed in confusion as felt his gaping hole, so empty and unloved while Teryx's thick cock strode about the room attached to those gorgeous hips, framed by those delightfully toned thighs. If only... wait, was that a butane lighter he was getting out of the drawer?

Flick, flick. It produced a steady flame, while the dragon self-pleasured with the other hand. Such a hand-filler... Commodore 'Kitty' felt very small by comparison, even though he wasn't.

Teryx let the flame lapse and brought the little lighter over to where Harry was standing -- felt up those balls with a firm grip.

"Why don't we roast some chestnuts like you roasted my house? It's your fault!!"

"Oh no-no, oh no-no-no!!" the kitty pleaded, even as Sir Teryx ran the lighter down a fingertip's length below the tiger's large sack -- and flicked the flame on.

The trembling tiger roared as painful heat coursed up into his balls -- calculated, just hot enough to sting and cause the thin fur of his scrotum to burn. He writhed in place, his renewed erection pressing on the wall as he pleaded for the fire to stop. Sir Teryx responded by shoving the tip of the tiger's tail into the flame as well, causing the fur to blacken and fill the air with the scent of burnt fur.

Then the dragon tossed the lighter aside, grabbed him around the waist, and whispered balefully, "Your brain has bad ideas... but at least they're good for a meal."

Then he shoved his cock inside of Harry with violent intensity, reaming that hole while 'Kitty' transitioned from whimpering to moaning -- thanking Teryx for stopping the flames and instead giving him lots of fat dragoncock.

"What a slut," said Sir Teryx before clamping teeth on Harry's cheek fur and pulling back hard, eliciting a roar. When he let go, he kept taunting as he fucked faster: "That's right, feel it. Feel how helpless you are, wall of muscles and it can't do anything to help your inferior mind.

Commodore 'Kitty' moaned louder. This... powerlessness was excellent. No control, no means -- only the capacity to feel dominated, a single-track beeline toward emitting as much consumable pleasure as possible.

Commodore grew fatter upon the waves of chemicals being dumped by the gift-host's brain. Such a pleasant holiday feast -- scrumptious, and now his favored dragon was about to feed Sir as well...

Sir Teryx's thrusts had gotten close, short, and very rough, a growl of salty rage adding fuel to the fires of his passion. He really had never gotten back at Harry properly for that stunt, not in all this time, but now...

"Ohh, yes, good kitty, good!" the dragon was huskily murmuring up to him. "Take it all and know what I go through every day... 'Daddy...!!"

A thick, hot climax followed -- Sir Teryx's fangs tightly clenched and his claws raking at the tiger's sides. "Ahhh, YES... feed me, you stupid dragon I can't get out of the head of..."

Sir usually wasn't in Teryx's head, but the statement was genuine. Commodore understood: he may have been trying to say the slugs' equivalent of the idiom 'can't get out of my head,' but had gotten the idea confused due to a little host-symbiote perspective glitch. Language was often quite inadequate for describing their connection.

"I hope my gift is... grrrrhh, pleasing..." said Sir Teryx while the tiger was on autopilot, mewling in a mix of disgrace and horniness as being filled with dragon spunk.

Commodore did not force a reply immediately, instead gorging on the neurochemicals while 'Kitty' played out the rest of this felt violation and satisfaction. Far be it for him to stop an arrow mid-flight when the arrow had food for him all over it and was shooting his way.

However, once Harry's throes were complete and Commodore had suitably absorbed the products, he did a bit of housekeeping by rising to a more administrative level again and forcing the host to turn around puppet-like, seared ball-fur and long, renewed erection on display.

"The gift is suitable," said Harry, without emotion. "Let us commence round two."

Sir Teryx grabbed wet-wipes from a box atop the nearby chest of drawers -- pulled out, and took a moment for some intermediary cleanup. "I don't suppose 'Daddy' would be up for punishing his son for such naughty, uppity behavior?"

"Indeed," said the tiger without emotion. Then he uttered a short joke that should have been meaningless: "Cucumbers are just dick-shaped watermelons."

Teryx's pupils narrowed to dots, and his entire capacity for motor control went offline. He crumpled from the knees, leaving Commodore Harry to catch him and drag him bodily onto the bed, slack tail dragging the floor, and that delicious dragon-meat dangling at three-quarters' mast to one side along the fold of his left hip.

That had been one of several meaningless jokes Commodore had installed as what the slugs termed 'test phrases' the last time he was in Harry while Sir was in someone else. What he hadn't installed in Sir, and only retained in the limited fleshy memory of his own slug-body, was that this phrase was currently installed as a cleverly orchestrated "off switch" for Teryx. The kind so immediate and explosive that even one of the masters would struggle to get him back online rapidly.

He then sent a quick text message with Harry's phone to a certain third party: Bagging up and coming out!

From his Santa sack, he produced a set of tight, black-latex sensory deprivation gear fitted for Teryx's use. It was a known piece of kink gear between them and had been a probable item for use in the night's round three -- before Commodore initiated this truer holiday surprise. It served Sir right for escalating depth of host-use beyond what they had agreed upon -- Commodore's alien perspective, when only cursorily connected to a host and manipulating it as if by levers and strings, was nothing if not petty, and he didn't particularly find Harry's current broken perspective useful to immerse himself within while conducting official colony business.

After all, Host Zero was a precious gift commodity around these parts now; it wasn't just Sir who wanted a chance to enjoy him.

It took only a moment to tear away the pesky warmers and render Teryx nude for proper clothing. Snugly ensconcing the dragon in that tight blackness with the practiced speed that the tiger's memories had developed over the last several months, Commodore Harry beheld how nice Teryx looked: all dark and tight, perfectly trapped and controlled, and even somehow faceless -- just as their colony should be. A face in the crowd -- one of them could have any face, for anyone could be one of them.

Soon, they would make a great stride toward realizing their dream of a greater community... but first, they must celebrate the local holiday custom in their particularly unique way...

* * *

Five minutes later, Teryx became aware of being in a tight place. Sir was raging in his head, calling this the holiday betrayal of the century, but it didn't matter.

Clunkily, almost robotically, Harry was carrying them like a holiday ham. There was a bump against something solid and then a perceptible drop in temperature -- the threshold crossed of leaving the building. Sound was heavily muffled and vision was nil, but Teryx could already imagine it -- indeed, he was imagining Harry as still wearing less than he really was.

The lack of a cockring or chastity device on Teryx's member suggested the bondage had been done hurriedly, and that it was probably going to be redone and "enhanced" when they arrived at their mystery destination. This was a surprise to get curious over.

The dragon's only regret was the absolute certainty that he wouldn't remember most of it. But, largely lucid for the time being, he knew how it would go. How the unseen, growing community of local hosts would make use of him -- enjoy him, adore him and express their slugs' cravings for his body. The imprint he had made upon Commodore as the first host had been passed to all of them, and so they would all have a certain nostalgic fondness for this blue, rainbow-tailed, golden-maned body...

Even when it was reduced to an object. A latex idol with a restrained puppet inside.

It was dark. It was horrifying... and yet it was easily the best holiday gift ever. A gift that would keep on giving until everyone involved was spent.

He bulged in the tightness of his suit, unable to fully express his size but feeling titillated by the contact.

Sir was quiet in the back of his mind, struggling with the question of whether or not to become immersed in Teryx's point of view again. For once, it was the slug who seemed scared and reluctant -- the host too eager and too trusting in the situation his proper master had engineered.

Happy Holidays to you, Sir~! the cheeky dragon dared to tell him.

The slug was silent, then stiffly answered, Enjoy feeding me with your weird fetish, terrestrial meat-puppet.

Beneath the latex, Teryx smiled. For the moment, all fear was gone.

I absolutely will, he answered, imagining the now-trapped Sir forced to feed on his fluids and grow ready to bud. The idea was inherently sensual and sexual, strongly conditioned into his brainways at this point -- must help them feed, must help them grow, must help them spread.

The loaded drone felt himself land heavily in the backseat of some posh vehicle -- a firm, huge hand clapping him on the ass. A heavy seatbelt was placed over him as he was righted -- and then some additional cuffing to keep his hands at his sides. After that, the same heavy hand massaged steadily at his bulge, the teasing relentless. They were bulbous, smooth digits without pads... likely a cetacean, but it would have to be a massive one if so.

A conversation was happening without him. He could make out the vague mumbles of a deep voice -- Harry's, and the other's. He felt like his cock recognized this hand, but maybe not. Whoever it was, they were one of the community, and he would swell so hard and long for him, defying the tightness of the outfit and being pleasured by it.

Into the night they drove off -- Teryx savoring every moment of their transit to the party. A party that he would not remember -- at best recalling like the haze of a dream, set to the rhythm of this incessantly stroking hand that would allow him no peace.

It was time to be the gift, again and again. After all, everything had spiraled out from Teryx. First Host Zero and Host One... and now the community party for more to enjoy.

He spasmed dry inside his suit -- and felt the satisfying, instinctive resignation from Sir as the slug took the edge off the pleasure, feeding on the neurological responses from the dragon.

A night to remember. A night to be forgotten.