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Yes, Valentine

Yes, Commodore: Volume 3, Chapter 3

For TeryxC by DolphinSanity

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February 13, 20xx

The Hot Pepper Bar and Grill was bustling with patrons on "Valentine's Eve." There were only a few overt decorations -- a pink heart here and there, and some heart-shaped candied mints being handed out gratis with meals -- but the atmosphere made it evident that courtship was at a high point. The farther past sunset the hours went, and the more the alcohol was served, the place became ever more packed and the conversations that one might overhear grew progressively more risque.

Teryx Commodore sat at the bar counter, sipping a mojito taking it all in. The lime and mint flavors provided their tangy coolness as he listened to other patrons bantering. Among them was this gem of an exchange:

"Someone totally grafitti'd one of the washroom stalls with an image of Fennec Cupid shooting some red fox's arse with an arrow."

"Exaggerating. It's just a pretty design made of construction paper. No one in their right mind would graffiti the 'Temple of Glorious Holes.'"

"Yeah, for sure, Old Salt would kill 'em."

Old Salt, the proprietor and main barkeeper, was an orca in his early fifties. He was pretty much the concept of "gay bear dad" distilled into one man, who also happened to have that grizzled, military veteran look to him. He had the same kind of gut he hoped to give most of his regular patrons: a rigid defensive line of abs, obfuscated by just enough fat to make a good snuggle-pillow while he and his latest date binge-watched historicals and war movies and talked about the state of things all around. He had a long, vertical scar at the right of his face that he didn't like to talk about.

"So how's it goin', Rainy?" the orca asked Teryx, while the latter seemed lost in thought looking around the room.

The rain dragon glanced casually toward him. "A slow drizzle."

Old Salt nodded sagely. "So it is. Surprised you're still scoping out a date. Whatever happened with that tiger you were so sweet on?"

Teryx had given up ages ago on convincing the orca not to call him "Rainy." There were some people in this world who were intractable, and Old Salt was one of the champions of that type. He was also amiable and fair, which made his quirk of pet-naming people as if they were sixty years younger than him more forgivable. He also cared enough to keep the upholstery and carpet looking sterling, so that definitely helped.

"Harry and I are taking a short break," said Teryx. "Nothing big; we both felt like seeing others to change things up."

"Ah. With how you two were, I was thinking you might be heading for some sort of a commitment."

Teryx just grinned at first, knowing fully well that he couldn't remember even half of the dates that Old Salt must be referencing. After all, Teryx hadn't been only himself for these last several months...

Well done, said the thought-voice of Teryx's hidden alien master. You're acting the part quite well.

"Hey, what's that big smile about?" asked the orca.

Teryx responded, "Oh, nothing." He combed idly at his golden mane with the fingers of his left hand and lifted his neck to one side in a gesture of what could have been construed as sass. "Just... I thought you would know me better by now is all."

Old Salt glanced resignedly toward the ceiling, then back to Teryx. A sighing puff sound emanated from the orca's blowhole, before he rattled off a description of Teryx in a low, quick voice: "Never anyone's slave in love, the handsome man who's easy enough to spend some time with but impossible to catch."

"Mm, just about right," opined Teryx between sips. "I suppose I've been... waiting for the right person."

"Aren't we all," grumbled Old Salt, who was currently known to be single and rotating through one- and two-date relationship trials at a rapid pace.

"Someone who truly knows me intimately -- as I know myself. Better, even." Teryx folded a palm onto his chest, which puffed forward in a bit of regal vainglory, his tight and heavily toned pecs asserting their shapeliness through his shirt. "I see no reason to rush, when the right mate is always worth waiting for."

Old Salt wasn't touching that. "Well, keep waitin', and happy Valentine's."

The orca went off to serve someone else as Teryx gave in a placid wave of parting.

It felt good to stroke his hand across those pecs of his as he lifted it to wave... perhaps a tad narcissistic, but no one said there was any law against loving one's own body.

Waiting for the right person, the alien Commodore teased mentally. What a trite little excuse.

Teryx was looking around at the reds and browns of the bar's interior, and at all of the various patrons -- not exclusively male, but in practice nearly so -- as he responded: Anyone might say it. It's polite and normal.

In speaking to Old Salt, Teryx had rather deliberately hung a lampshade upon his own relationship to Commodore -- a being who had on multiple occasions demonstrated that ability to know him better via direct neurological linkage -- but Commodore was not addressing that bit of private subtext at all. To the contrary, the alien seemed to be pointedly ignoring it in favor of expressing exasperation at the habits of "terrestrial meat-puppets," as they had at times been called in Teryx's inner dialogues.

It perpetually puzzles us that your kind care so little for efficiency, remarked Commodore. We may argue over how to optimize but never over whether we should. Long delays in mating are unwise even by your quaint logic. Mating should be considerably more optimized, as should the flesh itself.

Optimized flesh, heh. Careful that you don't sweet-talk me too much; you'll get me in the mood right here.

You'll get your nightly milkings when we get home, soldier, the slug informed him.

That self-attraction he had been feeling grew stronger. Optimized flesh... optimized scales and muscle... he sort of discreetly fondled his own thigh as he sat there, just feeling how solid he was and knowing he was himself and a worthy specimen....

Commodore wasn't kidding about the general obsession with optimization; Teryx had been finding it easier to stay in tip-top fitness since his infestation, with his master-on-the-inside deeming it suitable to help keep his vessel's hormonal balance, nutrition, and physical activity in perfect alignment (or, at times, the ideally milkable misalignment) -- all while mostly keeping the host from looking neurotic about any of it, notwithstanding the occasional alien mind-glitch or faux pas. His other friends like Halley the sergal had noticed him becoming more of a 'fitness freak,' what with his growing dedication to his gym regimen and his tendency to pack in the protein, but nothing but admiration and a little playful teasing had come from that.

He wasn't as outright beefy as Harry (who was undergoing similar 'optimization'), but beating a huge tiger at that game wasn't easy. On the bright side, Teryx remained alluring to those who preferred a more athletic man and less of a hulk, which was a fair number of people, on the whole.

You see? Commodore interjected, following on from Teryx's stream of consciousness. You are learning to value optimization.

The hand resting along his thigh gave a harder, unbidden squeeze -- Commodore groping him by momentarily seizing control. It sent a flush of warmth to Teryx's groin, though the teasing went no farther than that for now.

All the same, I can't blame them for hoping, Teryx admitted. My perfect partner quite literally fell out of the sky; perhaps I shouldn't judge others for hoping the universe does them the same courtesy.

Commodore hated how true that comparison was; Teryx could feel the disdain boring into him from the slug's aspect of their mind. ...Indeed, without my intervention, even you would still be 'hoping' for your body's chems to find someone consistently agreeable in the long term. 'Hoping for the perfect mate' is a fantasy if I've ever heard one.

Teryx grinned a little bit as he tilted his glass for a longer gulp. I thought your name was Commodore, not Debbie Downer.

A sudden, precise disruption of motor control caused Teryx to jiggle the glass perfectly to send a single, long cube of ice into his maw and toward the back of his throat. It took an awkward forward flinch and an intense snort-puff of air through his nostrils to keep himself from reacting much worse to that. He then discreetly plonked the ice cube back into the drink once he was sure enough that no one was still looking at him.

Love is a series of chemical reactions, said Commodore flatly. I've thoroughly confirmed that during my last several buddings.

If that's all it is, it must be an awfully complicated one, Teryx teased as an embarrassing memory came to mind. I seem to remember a time you tried to turn me on to a lady. Now, if my heavily tampered memory serves, that night ended with me fucking a certain male sergal hard in the rear over my kitchen table.

Teryx could feel Commodore pouting at the memory of that night with Halley. You do realize it's only by my good graces that you even still remember that.

I do, and I respect that. It means you're okay with me helping you not forget your own mistakes.

Hmph. It's nothing to do with "being okay"; it's cold science. The chilling edge of Commodore's mind -- which always lurked beneath the veneer of Teryx-mimicking normalcy anyway -- was briefly exposed. Teryx mentally shuddered -- because he frankly found it hot. Then, he suddenly found himself experiencing the same emotions and physiological responses he might normally feel when holding someone's hand and thinking about long-term relationship prospects: warmth, a bit of butterflies, an unusual quickness in his heart rate. It was an overwhelming sense of bonding and love which--

--which were summarily forced to be directed at the image of Commodore's yellow slug-body, pulled from a memory that now overrode Teryx's normal visual perception, while his eyes were forced to close. The image of the slug was then overlaid with a memory of himself in the mirror, smiling a little too big under Commodore's control.

All of that, in turn, was followed by recognition and that sense of a bond deepening... as if to say, "Yeah, that's the one I love."

You're doing that... Teryx said, blinking slowly as her regained control and took a deep breath. Gosh, he felt so in love...

I am. By manipulating the chemistry of your brain. Now that I've had more time to understand the nuances of your neurology in particular, I'm quite certain that I really could make you fall in love with anybody I choose. If you wanted to keep feeling madly in love with someone permanently, I could even arrange that -- something that would be all but biologically impossible otherwise. The proverbial honeymoon need never end; each day can feel as new as the first.

Teryx was smiling as he sipped his drink. I think you already arranged that with how I feel about you.

Yes, you are naturally receptive to seeing me in that way... and you know that I create newness for you as part of my adjustments. "Adjustments" here was a euphemistic reference to the heavy memory modification and gaslighting that the slugs visited upon their hosts.

So clinical! Teased Teryx. I'm telling you I love you!

Commodore's cool tone did not waver: Yes, you do. The chemical and bioelectrical processes in your brain, which I monitor and adjust with great efficiency on a daily basis, confirm your love. I merely object to aggrandizing it as anything more than what it is, or mythologizing it as some special and unique thing that can only occur with a hypothetical 'right person.'

Teryx shrugged and set his drink aside before this next point. Eh... I dunno. Is it only a series of chemical reactions? Did you ever seriously consider that maybe the chemical reactions are merely a part of this physical reality responding to something transcendental?

Transcendental, said Commodore in full sarcasm. Be glad I don't have a mouth to throw up in. Otherwise, I might have just thrown up a little in my mouth, and let it ooze out into your brain.

Crude, said Teryx. You've been learning vulgar habits from your other hosts.

Vulgar is fine if it serves my ends. I transcend my host's head to go spread my offspring into other heads, and then come back. That's as transcendental as I'll ever need to be.

Teryx glanced over the crowd, marveling once again at the realization that some of these very people might already be current or former hosts for Commodore -- or one of his increasingly numerous offspring. Teryx had been coming here often, after all... to say nothing of anything Harry, Rale, or any subsequent hosts might be doing.

It is what it is, said Commodore, in pre-emptive response to Teryx's pondering.. Ultimately, this planet is disgusting, and the idea of 'transcendental love' is disgusting. From my point of view, it sounds like a two-dimensional person trying to tell a three-dimensional person how reality is. You wouldn't even entertain the notion that your love 'means' something you could sense half of what I can sense.

Teryx pouted a little internally. I miss when you were all about the merging and becoming one. All this host swapping has brought out a more intense sort of ego from you. You're fast becoming the grumpy old man of the invasion.

Commodore didn't care. You see it that way, but you're only my obedient husk that I shed sometimes and crawl back into at other times. I see it as Commodore Teryx achieving his rightful place by acquiring the wisdom, perspectives, and knowledge of everyone he can get his sluggy body into. So many ear-canals have I traveled...

Teryx, his shorts bulging a little, replied with, Stop talking dirty to me, we're in public~

Commodore's mood seemed to come around, a bit. So? How about it? Bet I can make you fall in love with anyone I want.

Teryx worked on finishing his drink. Of course you can. It's too easy from the inside.

Then let's make it interesting. I'll bet that I can become your perfect match within another host. I understand how love works now... far more than your single-bodied mind could ever imagine.

"Heh," muttered Teryx aloud, before standing up and stretching a bit. The premise was hot enough that he had a positive emotional reaction, which Commodore read as consent.

Good, Commodore persisted. You'll believe me tomorrow.

Teryx controlled his instinctive smirk as he stood at the counter. Sure, it's a bet, but what're we betting with?

Don't trouble yourself about that.

At that moment, Teryx -- to the best of his later ability to recollect -- blacked out instantly.

* * *

February 14, 20xx

Teryx awoke to the feeling of being on his back, with his usual bedcovers in a jumble around him.

He felt... way too groggy. Enough that he would have gone back to sleep, if not for a nagging feeling of annoyance that was motivating him to sit up.

Then his nostrils twitched, and his snout took in a deeper inhale of the air around him.

Musk. Faint, lingering musk.

"Huh..."

He grunted a bit as he rolled properly onto his belly, getting his hands under him as he began sniffing around his empty bed. A combination of his tail and a kicking leg removed the covers from his back, exposing his fully nude form to the sunlight filtering in through the partially closed window blinds.

That was a LOT of sunlight. He had slept in, past mid-morning.

Also, try as he might, he didn't recognize the scent. He felt like he should know.

Cute, Commodore. You had someone over while I was out, and now you want me to find them?

He had considered the possibility they might still be in the apartment. A strong hunch told him they were long gone, but he would do his diligence in checking regardless. Hopping out of bed and taking cursory glances and calling out didn't yield any result. He soon made his way back to the bed and blinked himself more fully awake.

Not gonna say anything, huh?

He clicked on a lamp to see if he could discern anything of note from the sheets, but the only hint of a cum-stain was most likely his own. His slit was clean, but he felt spent, and his rear was normal, so maybe Commodore had forced him to give the other guy a BJ and then gotten jerked off or something. A first serious date perhaps? One of Commodore's many "special friends" and prospective hosts that he didn't always tell Teryx about?

...That, notion, brushed up against a vague, uncomfortable memory. He tried to reach for it, but it eluded him for now. Some sort of intense sex he couldn't remember...

Hey, Commodore. I'm going to figure it out, Teryx thought as he rested his knees on the bed but went tall and upright.

No answer.

In fact, Teryx was starting to notice something oddly vacant about his thoughts. It wasn't just that Commodore wasn't responding; it was that Commodore seemed not to be there at all.

"Swapped on me? Really? Already?"

It occurred to Teryx that he hadn't checked the date yet. He checked it.

Saturday of the same week as the earlier conversation. Valentine's Day.

Right, it had been Friday evening before. So, yesterday. Whatever Commodore had done, he had worked quickly. Either that, or he'd had it all planned in advance...

Teryx had adapted to these occasional cat-and-mouse games of intellect, and he could at least enjoy the process of sleuthing out what Commodore had done. However, other than that scent in his room and his awareness that he himself had climaxed last night, there really wasn't too much else to go on.

The major details of his flat were all normal -- almost eerily normal, as if Commodore had taken extra time to make sure it appeared that way. This in turn led to Teryx looking deeper, checking more things and looking into nooks that he might not otherwise.

The first oddity he saw was on a small dry-erase whiteboard on the fridge. It was written in red with beautiful cursive penmanship and surrounded by a trio of neatly drawn hearts pointing in different directions. Commodore flaunting that he could write and draw more neatly than 'regular old Teryx' could do.

The message on the whiteboard read, Love Is Blind. As soon as he read it, Teryx's vision fuzzed out and went black.

Then it stayed that way, perplexingly, for several seconds.

Although surprised, Teryx kept his calm. "Heh, you don't spare any efforts in setting up a prank. How did you manage to program me to go temporarily blind?" When his vision remained dark for several more seconds, Teryx thought about how Commodore had twisted the aphorism. "Come on, you're inside someone else and I'm not getting to see anyone at all. That's not even fun."

With weirdly appropriate timing, Teryx's vision started returning.

The rain dragon's eyes narrowed. Are you still here? he asked, the tone accusatory, within his own head.

Silence. Teryx's intuition continued to tell him Commodore was actually absent, and that whatever had just happened was an impressive exercise in programming the brain to respond to a specific trigger.

"Wonder what else you installed..." Teryx muttered as he progressed through his flat, continuing to search for anything else that might serve as a clue.

With time, additional notes and reactions emerged.

In Teryx's closet in a shirt pocket, he found a beautifully handwritten note, black ink on folded parchment paper: "Commodore Conquers All." Followed by Teryx's legs immediately jerking, then losing all sensation from the knee down and dropping him flat onto his back. His hands and tail broke his fall somewhat, but the point was made.

Within the medicine cabinet, he found a note that appeared to have been printed at Teryx's workplace: "I find the claim 'there is no cure for a broken heart' to be... questionable." Followed by a sharp pain in the chest, as if something had just triggered a cardiac arrhythmia -- and then an instant later by it returning to normal, leaving Teryx only with the jolt of surprise and a small flood of stress hormones pulsing into his bloodstream.

"Now you're just flaunting," Teryx said. He said it as if annoyed, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning in enjoyment as he said it. (He might be a little bit accustomed to this whole situation.)

Deeper inspection of the kitchen revealed a quickly hand-scrawled note on a torn piece of printer paper from his own home. It looked like his own penmanship. It had been tucked away between two jars of spices, and its message was, "Why not try for some love at first sight?"

He waited for something else to happen to his eyes, or for hallucinations or something, but no such thing transpired. He continued to wait for a few seconds, feeling sure that something must've been programmed in with that. Perhaps even the great Commodore was still fallible, however. He grinned so much that he teeth showed, feeling a surge of confidence at the thought.

Teryx crumpled that note and pocketed it before immediately going back to his room to put on something presentable. Well, presentable for the Hot Pepper, anyway. He was going back there to look for clues. No, screw that, he was going back there tonight to find a date without Commodore around and without continuing to play these silly paper-trail games.

Teryx didn't consciously notice it, but the spices it had been tucked between were two varieties of pepper.

* * *

Commodore's absence became all the more evident as Teryx made his way back to Old Salt's fine establishment. There was a nagging sense of emptiness, somehow equal parts like losing a beloved companion animal, a hardass boss, and a respected friend. Teryx couldn't remember going through quite this level of "Commodore withdrawal" before.

Commodore's presence wasn't the only 'withdrawn' thing, however: Teryx's general mental state went through a number of irregularities and revisions -- some noticed by himself, some not. He had bouts of anxiety and of struggling to remember exactly what he had done at the Hot Pepper last night in general. Importantly, he lost track of the fact he had made a 'bet' with Commodore at all, and began increasingly to reframe his situation as 'having a free day from Commodore' and being in search of a date with which to spend it.

His sense of time was also... not great. He was already outside his residential building (and about to start walking the few blocks necessary to get there) when he recalled it was just shy of noon and that the Hot Pepper wouldn't open for several more hours at the minimum.

What a dumb thing to forget. If Commodore were there, he'd have made fun of Teryx, but Commodore... wasn't.

This is silly. No sense being this anxious without him. Just wait out the day and go back tonight...

Teryx had gotten Valentine's Day off this year anyway. To be more accurate, Commodore had arranged it during one of Teryx's periods of being unconscious with Commodore in full control, but Teryx was certain that he himself had been the one who put in for the time off.

The now uncharacteristically melancholy dragon whiled the afternoon away in the harbor district of all places, gazing out over the water and remembering the day at his beach house... now former beach house... when he had gone for that little solo dive and found Commodore's splashed-down canister. Of all the things Commodore had periodically blocked, unblocked, and distorted, that was one memory that he always restored whenever he was allowing Teryx to remember Commodore's existence at all. It was... foundational, perhaps.

Teryx absentmindedly rubbed his right hand against the corresponding ear while he thought about it. The wind was picking up, starting to blow his mane around. In a perfect world, someone would be recording it and posting it to the Internet right now, but this was not a perfect world. There were no cameras and no Commodore.

Commodore had gone into so many temporary hosts by this point. Teryx wasn't sure how many, but he knew it was at least a dozen.

Teryx felt sure that he ought to be experiencing more jealousy or something in response to his hidden master's absence. The emotion being this formless, nagging void was... unpleasant. He did not fancy himself the dependent type. In Teryx's eyes, a hanger-on who couldn't let go when necessary was one of the most miserable creatures in the social food chain, and he had done quite well in the past to keep himself from drifting in such unfortunate directions. So why this feeling, now? Moreover, why now in particular, and not some other time when Commodore had been out of his head? Granted, there was always a bit of longing, but this was too much. It was enough that the stress of continuing to think about it was making his chest hurt a bit.

"Literal heartache, huh," he muttered to himself as he gave his breastbone a slow rub through his shirt.

He returned from his thoughts to more properly assess the environment around him. He steadied himself on a nearby railing and looked down toward the waterline, where the waves were crashing in their slow, predictable dance. It was fully sunny out, without a cloud in the sky. Tourists and most others seemed happy, at least, and when he looked up he saw a trade ship slowing down for its stop at the harbor. The work team responsible for the unloading were on task a few minutes later, machine-hauling all the things off the vessel. Teryx couldn't see whoever was in charge of them, but he knew they had someone giving orders. Somewhere.

A twinge of annoyance flashed through Teryx, and he stepped away from the railing. There was no sense in turning to envy -- least of all an envy directed at people in the business of unloading heavy cargo.

Damn that Commodore, Teryx thought, albeit halfheartedly. He was noticing, as he so often did, that there was no way to tell how much of this overwrought emotional state was authentically his own and how much was due to Commodore's machinations -- and it felt just as new and frustrating now as it had the first... however many times. The notion of how many times it had happened was an ambiguous blur, inscrutable yet inescapably arousing in how it pervaded and encapsulated him..

Teryx had never been one to experience intense relationship loss or "rebound" urges in the past, but most of his relationships prior to Commodore had been of a sufficiently casual nature not to merit such fuss. Commodore was the first to make it difficult, because there was a vast degree of difference for Teryx between the intimacy that could be shared with someone inside his head, versus someone who could only exist outside of it.

Then Teryx paused and considered that.

"No, that's an assumption that needs further testing," he murmured to himself.

He also reconsidered his outfit. It wasn't... quite optimal. It exuded compatibility with being propositioned for a night of fun, but something about it lacked confidence. In cruder terms, it was too much slut and not enough stud. He was certain he had shorts that were longer than these without sacrificing the ability to show off his shapely legs and rear... and, this Hawaiian-style rose and lavender accented shirt might seem a bit too carefree for how he wanted to come off. Then again, perhaps not; perhaps carefree and casual was the order of the night. Casual, but not too slutty.

It occurred to Teryx he didn't quite remember getting dressed, either. He didn't think his memory had been tampered with again, but... some sort of suggestion? Had he been programmed to dress like this and not noticed when he acted upon it?

Whatever the case, he would take the time to give his appearance a second look. He wanted to be ready to secure a partner for the night through skillful courtship: active, not passive. After all, it wasn't like he could count on Commodore to push the situation forward right now... and it wasn't like a handsome dragon of his caliber should need it...

He took the bus back home to work on his attire -- then undressed and lounged naked for a few hours, waiting out the daylight. Consumed as he was by his thoughts of the importance of getting back to the Hot Pepper and making a new friend, he didn't get much else done apart from some housework.

* * *

When the Hot Pepper reopened that night, Teryx was among the first to arrive. He was still sporting the Hawaiian shirt but had abandoned the sluttier shorts for a pair of long black pants which conveyed, in essence, "No, you take them off. I insist." Casual up top, business down below.

Teryx's shirt buttons came undone within minutes of his entering and ordering a mild first drink. Old Salt responded to his subsequent request for "Something fruity and sweet" with a puff of amusement from the blowhole and an immediate reply: "Fruity will be the easy part."

Teryx drank to the notion while letting his chest scales and lean body catch a breeze from the air conditioning.

The Valentine's Day crowd piled in, about like Teryx had been expecting. Upwards of three fourths of the customers arrived already paired off and visibly disinterested in having outside contact. Funnily enough, this made hookup-hunting easier than normal: the two- and four-seater tables were packed in with couples who looked visibly disinterested in having anyone else join them, which led to the floating, casual-sex-only types herding together around the bar.

Teryx was sipping the dregs of his first drink when a lynx with a swimmer's build and no shirt at all walked right up to him and sat down on an adjacent stool. Teryx hadn't been watching the door at the time, but the briskness of the guy's movement made it seem like he had come straight in and sat down to order without addressing anyone else.

Something in Teryx's intuition got a red flag from that.

"Hit me fast and hard, Salt!" said the lynx energetically.

"Uh huh," gruffed the orca. "Care to actually order somethin'?"

The lynx chuckled. "Don't care, so long as its dry!"

"Pfft, all right, just remember: you keep letting someone else make your decisions for ya, and you'll never learn to make your own."

"Least I get boyfriends!" the lynx sassed back.

Salt didn't say anything more, just shook his head and glanced at the ceiling for a moment. This cat was apparently a regular, but Teryx didn't recognize him... maybe someone who normally came in really late, since Teryx tended not to party quite all night long. Teryx would typically be on his way home with his date before the place was in any danger of closing.

"Surprised we haven't met," said the rain dragon, turning to greet the lynx with a tone and posture that exuded quiet strength, level-headedness, and stability. "Teryx Commodore."

"Aww, hey, I know about you," said the Lynx, who spun with comical abruptness atop his barstool to face Teryx head on. His hands ended up resting on his thighs and his feet fidgeting as he spoke. "Friends already warned me. Do you really make people take photos of you naked and holding a rose in your mouth?"

"That... only happened once," observed Teryx, though he had a nagging feeling it may have happened more times that he could no longer remember.

"Well, the once is all I've seen the footage of. Anyway, don't get insecure -- I work for a marketing company that arranges celebrity endorsements for men's beauty products, so I've seen a lot. Lex, by the way."

Teryx let the notion that he could've been insecure pass without comment. "Lex the lynx, eh? Into men only?"

Teryx knew he had successfully pushed a button when the short alliterative phrase made Lex's face scrunch up. "Hey, it's better than 'Alexandre Iberion,'" he said, adding a disdainful extra flourish to the pronunciation of his full name. "And yeah, dick only for me please. There's nothing a strapon can do for me that I wouldn't rather have a real dick for."

Teryx grinned. He was surprised by the lynx's frankness and audacity; even here at the Hot Pepper, most patrons weren't quite so vividly open about their preferences, yet Lex had a way of oversharing that made it not feel like oversharing, or at least not quite as much.

"You'll have to tell me sometime how you came to prefer the real thing in those terms. That sounds like it has a history."

"Oh yeaaah, does it ever." Lex nodded to Salt, who was coming back with something green with ice in it. The lynx's poofy-tipped ears gave a small flick as he sniffed of it. "What the hecky is in this thing?"

Salt didn't say anything -- just stared at him in that predatory, "You deserve this!" way.

After one sip, Lex smacked the glass down on the counter, somehow managing not to lose any as the liquid sloshed around. A gasp and pant followed, due to what Teryx could only assume was a burning sensation from the alcohol, one of the mixed ingredients, or both.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, Salt, don't serve this to someone who isn't from around here. They'll die."

Teryx leaned in close enough for a sniff. His nostrils burned with the familiar tingle of too much capsaicin. Salt had apparently mixed entirely too much dried chili pepper or... something into that one's drink.

"Bet you can take it," Teryx teased.

"My mouth can take it. It's my ass I'm not sure about."

Salt was amused. "Uhh-huh, and isn't that how it always goes with your twink ass?"

"Oh be quiet! You're not my dad."

Salt had moved on to someone else's drink. "Hey, I've had plenty of people call me 'daddy' over the years..."

Teryx couldn't help it by this point; he was chuckling openly in between bouts of looking at Lex with an insincere, "I'm sorry!" type of expression.

"Sheesh, stick me in the burn ward..." said Lex.

"For the quips or the drink?" asked Teryx, who by this point was picking up on Lex enjoying being the center of attention in this way.

"Yeaaaaah I won't bother answering that," said Lex dramatically before pitching his head back and chugging the drink. He didn't down it all in one go, but he gulped down at least a fourth of it before letting the glass clonk loudly onto the bar counter again. Then he stared into space and froze, as if his body were trying to escape the notice of some monster that wanted to eat him. Or, perhaps, something more like a fire elemental that wanted to burn him to death from the inside.

Lex coughed loudly enough that it turned a few heads. "Oh fuuuuuuuh... o-okay, hang on."

The lynx got up and excused himself to the washroom, scampering off at a quick pace. Teryx turned in his seat to watch the cat's exit and shook his head a little, before taking a sip of his own beverage.

That was when Teryx noticed the dragon-goat hybrid over at one of the two-seater tables. His presence was notable mainly because he was the only one at such a table who was alone, and he was staring at the table as if lost in thought. No phone, no electronic gadget of any sort, and no drink. He had two long horns in a goat's configuration, atop a very long face with a dragonish snout and a robust beard, which had been neatly trimmed into a goatee. His fur was cloudy gray with some cream-colored mottling. He was tall and slender and wore a tight-fitting dark brown T-shirt and some black pants similar to Teryx's own.

Teryx considered the situation. He had been enjoying the social chemistry with Lex, but now that he thought about it... it seemed almost too obvious. Lex was exactly the sort of person who Teryx would want to take home and bed while in a dommy mood. Everything about the cat's behavior screamed, "Fuck me casually and without commitment; it's what I live for!" No doubt that once he had finished cleansing his throat of Salt's poison, Lex would be right back out there fearlessly wading into every lewd double entendre that he could manage to find, until his charms finally secured some dick for the evening.

It'd be easy for Teryx to take him home at that point. Almost... too easy.

Something about that seemed off. There was some sort of stakes he was forgetting, here. He couldn't let himself be seduced by the too-easy person. No falling in love with fast cats.

But the paranoia didn't entirely abate, even with that considered. He looked over to Old Salt and had an intrusive mental flash of a large orca grabbing him by the mane and pulling his face in against the white of his cetacean slit, telling Teryx to "sniff." He tried to remember the smell, but all that came to mind was the burning pungency of Lex's drink.

The orca wasn't... it wasn't Old Salt. It was someone else. Someone else who had done something with him, and it had been so fucking hot. Why couldn't he remember? Had Commodore taken the memory away? Moreover, had it been last night, or some other night? Some while ago? Men all around him -- shadowy men, cheering for "Host Zero," unloading a full round of vulgar bukkake all over his precious body, hot seed giving him a semi-literal pearl necklace as it lashed below his moaningly upraised snout...

He inhaled sharply, his racing pulse settling down. He composed himself as best he could, not wanting to look like he was disappearing into a traumatic flashback. Even if it might be traumatic. He couldn't really know, could he? With Commodore in play, he was unmoored and without an anchor, forced to depend on the clues the alien left for him. How things had changed since the early days of resisting him all the way, with Commodore forced in turn to sift through Teryx's brain for each necessary clue to overcome him.

Commodore needed him to be the facade and to keep up appearances, but what went on inside was such an intense and complex array of mental BDSM and switching that it was hard to keep up.

Why exactly was he here looking for a date, again? Why, when he had Commodore as the love of his life? ...Well, other than the fact Commodore wasn't here right now, and would want him to stay horny and keep connecting with new potential hosts.

He put his paranoia aside for the moment and decided that, at the very least, there was no harm in continuing to scout the field while Lex was indisposed. Taking his drink with him, Teryx shuffled over to the dragoat's table.

"Hey, uh... is this seat taken?" Teryx inquired.

The dragoat wordlessly shook his head.

"I see. May I?"

The dragoat gestured open-palmed toward the empty spot. Teryx sat down.

"I don't think we've met. Name's Teryx Commodore. I... surprisingly don't have a date today either."

The goat looked up calmly at him and seemed to take him in slowly, still not speaking. This level of silent consideration was something Teryx wasn't accustomed to seeing at the Hot Pepper; this was more similar to the regular culture outside.

"Victor Caprine," said the goat at last. "Date canceled an hour ago. Unfortunate." His voice was a soft tenor that stopped just short of sounding fabulous and lispy. Teryx had been expecting something deeper, but it was nevertheless pleasant to listen to.

"Hmm, given where you are, I assume you either had plans for later tonight or had hoped to have plans or later tonight."

"Yes," said Victor. "You know how it is, I'm sure. Everything in this city is business; everything is scheduled."

"Heh. I hear that."

"I had scheduled to enjoy myself tonight, and now that is unlikely to happen. Unless of course someone provides a new offer while I'm still in the area, but it would need to be an attractive one."

Victor was gazing at him -- squarish sclera lingering on him in a way that was initially somewhat imposing. By the time the word "attractive" was said, however, Victor's eyes had made a few quick, glancing shifts to peruse Teryx's appearance, while a grin spread along his maw. Teryx reciprocated the expression.

"Hmm, I think I know 'business' well enough to make any businessman's evening sweet, as long as he knows how to relax."

"Interesting," mused the dragoat. "Résumé a mile long? Any references you can cite?"

"Eh, probably a good third of the people here, at one point or another," said Teryx as he glanced around. "I'm usually in the before-midnight crowd, though it seems more varied today. I'd ask whether you 'come here often,' but I think that line has been dead for at least a century."

Victor ignored the bait for information about his own history with the Hot Pepper; instead, he asked, "Well, why don't we have a few drinks together and see if we can breathe some new life into this evening? Singles Awareness Day is a thing, after all."

Teryx got butterflies in his stomach for a moment. "Sure, let's do that. A few drinks now between two dragons."

"Mm, and maybe some other drinks later, yes..." The dragoat's eyes shut as he said it.

Teryx was already liking this guy, on a deeper and perhaps more perverse level than he had liked Lex. Victor's surface-level brooding and eccentricity seemed like a pragmatic thing... a mask to conceal the roiling vat of lust that lurked just beneath his skin. It wasn't clear what position he preferred, either, which made the mystery that much more fun.

As they drank and talked for the next ten minutes, Teryx's first impressions were confirmed. Victor did remain cagey about his personal details, never explicitly stating his job nor his exact sexual preferences. He did volunteer more innocuous information such as liking sweet and sour flavors, being quite proud of the fancy razor that he used daily to keep his beard in perfect shape, and so on.

By the time they were each finishing their first drinks, Victor's gaze was drifting often to Teryx's golden mane, and the rain dragon noticed this. Eventually, a bit of drool formed at the edge of the dragoat's maw, and Teryx decided to comment.

"See something you like?"

"Mm, very much. I have a great fondness for beautiful hair, you should know."

"You don't say..."

At that moment, Teryx noticed the washroom door had reopened, and Lex -- finally -- was leaning out of it.

The lynx didn't appear spice-wracked anymore; he instead looked like he was waiting for something that should be obvious. He looked straight at Teryx and beckoned him with one hand, as if gesturing for someone to hurry up and get aboard a subway car that was obviously about to leave.

Teryx cocked his head to the side. That looked entirely too suspicious, enough that it jogged his memory.

The bet. Right!

This was Commodore's game, trying to get him to 'fall in love' with a chosen host. The alien bastard had even tried to make him forget, but apparently hadn't done as thorough of a job with that one. Well, this gave him a leg up again -- though it also didn't give him perfect information.

Was Lex currently the host for Commodore, or maybe one of the alien's offspring? Was that how he knew about Teryx? It stung a bit to think that his reputation might not actually have preceded him and that it might have only been an alien-manufactured ruse.

Lex's expression soured as Teryx shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. The cat shut the washroom door again. What exactly was that? Maybe he had planned on lurking to use a gloryhole? But, if it was Commodore...

Whatever. He refocused on the dragoat, who by this point was looking at him with a degree of perplexity.

"Someone you know?" Victor asked.

"Not really. Lynx I sat by at the bar earlier. It's fine. Ready for another round?"

"Lex, was it?" asked the dragoat, who seemed a bit distant all of a sudden.

Teryx blinked. "Er, yeah... why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." He finished off his drink and pushed the glass to Teryx. "Be a gent and get a lonely man a refill?"

Teryx chuckled. "Oh, sure thing. I'll do the same for myself."

He took both of their glasses up to the bar -- greeted Salt -- sat for a moment and waited. He glanced back at Victor, who was watching him with an odd, thoughtful expression. Then Teryx got distracted momentarily talking to Salt and one of the other random patrons who was ribbing the orca about a drink not being perfect.

When Teryx glanced back a minute later, Victor was missing. That was mildly concerning, but he didn't let himself jump to conclusions. Nevertheless, it ended up taking a few minutes to get the drinks, as the bar counter was going through a crowded phase. When Teryx returned with them, Victor still wasn't there.

Teryx looked around. Lex also wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Teryx stood up and went to the washroom. He had a feeling he'd find an answer or two in there.

* * *

The rain dragon found Victor in the washroom gargling water. He appeared to be taking considerable efforts to rinse out his maw. A glance around the washroom revealed no one else still in there, but a lingering scent of musk caught Teryx's nostrils.

"Hey slut," said Teryx to Victor.

The dragoat spun around, turned off the water, and pressed his back up shyly against the wall near the sink. It looked like his mood had done a U-turn since they had last spoken, switching from seductive and confident businessman to panicked slut-prey. In point of fact, Victor was quite literally shivering as he watched Teryx staring at him.

The rain dragon folded his arms. "Lex had you give 'im a quickie? Not that I even care, but he wasn't secretly your date or something, right?"

"A... ah, no, no. Sorry, Mr. Commodore. I don't know what came over me, I..."

The dragoat was dropping to his knees and apologizing, leaning forward as he did so but stopping short of prostrating himself. It was a strangely intense response, the sort of groveling that would only be appropriate in the case of some severe wrong being committed.

"I'm pretty sure we've never met before tonight," said Teryx. "You don't have any commitments to me."

The dragoat's suddenly slave-like mentality was adamant, however: "I was naughty, Mr. Commodore. I've sucked off over ten men since the last time you had me, and I let my corrupt corporate boss fuck me over his desk after hours. I'm such a naughty slut, and I need to be put in my place."

Teryx had a bulge and didn't feel like hiding it. This just got very interesting. Still, this wasn't exactly an ideal place for the kinds of things he'd want to do...

Also, 'since the last time you had me'? Had he played with this guy before? He didn't think so...

"Why don't we pay for our drinks and go back to my flat together?" suggested Teryx. "Then you can tell me all about how bad you've been."

The dragoat nod-nod-nodded, seeming to whimper at the waves of crushing slut-guilt coming over him. Teryx felt a bizarre compassion for him... a kindred spirit and a growing sense of knowing him already, and yet somehow also not knowing him. Commodore's memory modification, probably... as usual, the game would be rigged from the beginning.

Then, without warning, the dragoat's head twitched to the left and his body locked up. He made a slight gasp for a moment before abruptly calming down, standing up, and turning to examine himself in the mirror.

Then he turned to face Teryx, his attitude once again completely different. It was a look of knowledge and of predatory superiority.

"Heh," said Teryx.

"Did you like my submissive role-playing?" said the dragoat again in the cool businessman voice.

"Don't give me that. You're the Commodore."

"Pardon?" said the dragoat, as if genuinely confused.

Teryx didn't buy it. "Now I'm sure of it. No way would I have willingly fooled around with someone whose personality is this broken... unless it was you pulling the strings."

The edges of the dragoat's snout curled into a grin, but there was no reply. Teryx blinked naturally.

"Commodore, right? Heh, at least I already know I love you."

Seamlessly, without the slightest hint to the contrary, Teryx now found that the dragoat looked like a carbon copy of himself. A doppelganger, wearing the same outfit that Teryx himself had chosen to put on.

"Teryx Commodore, at your service," said the other person, in Teryx's voice. "Of course you love me. How could you not love someone who truly knows what it is to be you?"

A wave of heat shot into Teryx's groin. The blue hand reached out and touched him there, pressing and teasing at the rain dragon's rising need.

Teryx's pulse pounded. He reached and groped his counterpart. There was a fuzzy, blissful feeling. He knew without a doubt now that really was playing right into Commodore's plan or one of its several contingencies... but now was the breaking point when it ceased to matter. He currently had Commodore in the body of a mindbroken dragoat businessman and was being mindfucked to ardently believe that the dragoat in question looked like a clone of himself. As erotic button-presses went, it was extreme in all the right ways, and it could only get better by actually doing something about it.

"Hey handsome," breathed Teryx, "why don't we go somewhere private?"

"I know just the place," said his counterpart.

Teryx glanced at one of the stalls. He had a nagging feeling he was going to regret not investigating further to see if Lex was hiding in here somewhere, but well...

There were more important matters to attend to.

* * *

Old Salt maintaining a small sex dungeon in the back rooms of the Hot Pepper wasn't much of a secret, but actually getting in to see it was. He didn't let customers use it, even the regulars, since his place wasn't "that sort of establishment." It was instead reserved for his own private invitations -- mostly, but a few friends were given access now and again.

Commodore, for some reason, knew the PIN code to open the door, and the host he was inhabiting didn't draw any weird looks from Salt for doing so.

Solving the intrigue, however, would have to wait.

"Get in, soldier."

The other Teryx, wickedly smirking, shoved Teryx into the little bondage "cell" for playtime.

Judging by the materials and the lack of noise pollution from outside once the door was shut, it was nicely soundproofed. While it might trouble someone with claustrophobia, it was also big enough for two intimate people to cozily enjoy being in close quarters together. The gray walls and heavily adjustable LED lighting made its atmosphere a canvas on which props and lighting choices could paint a scene, albeit one no bigger than an elevator.

Commodore didn't bother with anything but a single, low-tuned light, which shined at an angle from the side so that both could see each other in partial illumination while casting beautiful Teryx-shadows on the opposite wall.

"You sneaky slug," said Teryx. "I bet you switched hosts in the washroom."

The grin held steady. There was no answer; there was only an intense gaze of ownership. Teryx lightly grasped at his forearms and then up toward his biceps.

Then the grin broadened, and the real fun began.

Commodore kissed him -- pushed him back -- bound him spread-armed to the wall in irons and spread his legs at the ankles with a bar. This was all done in the span of twenty seconds, without even properly disrobing him -- so the next minute became a game of undoing Teryx's pants, teasing against his bulging briefs, and eventually freeing the raging dragon underneath.

With time, the doppelganger image trick began to fade. Teryx soon noticed the shadow of his counterpart being "wrong," but that didn't matter as his dick was stroked and brought to the edge by his reigning master.

The blurring image of himself stripped, turned around, and lifted its tail, before grinning back at Teryx. Commodore planned on power-bottoming. A travel-sized bottle of lube came out of the man's pocket, and Teryx found himself getting treated to the cooling feeling of the substance coating his shaft. The Commodore was preparing him for use, just as it should be.

"I love you, Commodore," said Teryx.

The image continued to fade. The gray goat-like face and lanky torso... the exceptional tightness of the hole that was now pressing back to ride him.

"I thought you liked this man?" Commodore teased as he flexed the host's rear back and speared himself onto the captive cock. "Mmm, you seemed to be hitting it off so nicely... "

"You set it all up."

"Did I? How can you be sure?"

"Really... it doesn't matter. You could have. I know you would if it suited you... and I know I can't live without you."

That ass was working him steadily now. "Heh... you sure?"

"Hh... you know it's true. I don't think I can even cum without you right now..."

"Not with the programming I left behind you won't. Your pleasure belongs to me."

Teryx shivered as his cock throbbed inside the tight hole. "Yes it does..."

"All of it, anytime I want it. You exist to feed me, and don't you ever forget it."

Teryx's pre was flowing, the rate of it increasing with every word from his ruler. "Yes, Commodore..."

"That's right... now keep that need in mind. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all~"

"Heh... feels like my cum's backing up. So tight and needy. But the motion feels almost numb, the closer I get."

"Very good," said Commodore while casually jerking the shaft of his present host and continuing to ride him. "Not that I care too much about the idea of 'marriage,' but perhaps it would amuse you to think of this like waiting for 'marriage.' Uniting my flesh with yours."

"Well, we're already like that... I'm just waiting for you to come back to me now..."

"Damn right you are. I had hoped you would say that, and you didn't disappoint."

That dragoat ass was milking at him relentlessly now. Teryx's glutes were flexing as his body tried to reconcile the lack of impending orgasm with the sensations he was otherwise feeling. He closed and reopened his hands -- inhaled deeply and exhaled.

"Ahh yes, now it's just about right... the host is feeling it. He's dreaming right now, but soon that'll become reality... and you'll get the ear snuggle you've been craving all this while."

"Ear snuggle..." repeated Teryx in a moan. The phrase had an odd triggering effect on him, causing every muscle in his groin to spasm. He could feel the added wetness as a thick dollop of his pre went into his partner's rear.

"Ridged for my pleasure... isn't that right, Teryx Commodore?" said the dragoat in a hushed and euphoric tone.

His voice was different all of a sudden -- so soft and quiet that it wouldn't be Commodore anymore, unless Commodore was really trying hard at acting. Then the one speaking started shamelessly bleating and bouncing faster and faster on Teryx's cock.

"I knew this day would come," the awake but still dreamy-voiced host continued. "You're my perfect lover. Teryx Commodore is the only one for me..."

"Is that right...?" asked Teryx, who couldn't help feeling a surge of dominance as he became more active in bucking within his restraints.

"That's right... even bound, you're so beautiful." The dragoat's head turned, tongue dangling as he beheld Teryx at an angle and reached a hand up to caress him. "I always liked dragons best, but you're so smooth and soft..." The fingers ran through Teryx's mane -- moved smoothly under his neck and reached up to finger adoringly at the lip of his maw. A worshipful shudder coursed through the host, who resumed bleating and bouncing harder.

That soft, mostly humanoid finger reached in -- felt Teryx's teeth, tongue, gums. Every sensation seemed to prompt another moan of ecstasy from the delirious creature, and each new wave of bliss caused his erection to become more alarmingly hard: veiny and pulsating until it looked like he must be about to unload on himself.

"You look like you could use some help with that," cooed Teryx, who still was endowed with the hypnotic superpower of being nowhere close to cumming, despite how nice the romp felt. "Why don't you undo my bonds and let me finish you off?"

The dragoat just shook his head. It was almost robotic, like the way someone said no only when their higher thoughts were severely checked out.

"I... love you, Teryx," the dragoat pleaded. "I need you... every day, forever, somehow. Can't let you go... you might leave me..."

"But if you love something, why not set it free?" protested Teryx.

"N... no... can't... have to... aaaaaaahhh~"

The dragoat's back straightened as he suddenly became deeply interested in rubbing ear to ear with Teryx. The confused man's wiry fur brushed against Teryx's body as their heads quickly lined up. The dragoat wore an utterly glazed expression all the while, as if his body had reached the moment of orgasm and then been trapped there in a freeze-frame. His throbbing shaft wasn't making a mess, but the intensity of its pulsing and flinching was more than what Teryx would have expected out of a typical dry orgasm, too.

The moan repeated itself, quieter, as a faint squelching noise emanated from the dragoat's right ear. Teryx's heart skipped a beat in anticipation as he felt the wet, sluggy body of his Commodore pulling free of that man and slipping back into him.

It was almost an afterthought, the way the dragoat's eyes rolled and cock started erupting semen. It was a strangely low-pressure ejaculation, looking more like thicker-than-average water flowing from a fountain as it poured and streamed from his tip down onto his balls, soon dripping in heavy blots onto the floor. It was not clear whether the man was experiencing any new heights of pleasure from it; he looked spaced out and consumed by afterglow already.

Teryx, however... Teryx experienced something else.

Commodore penetrating his ear canal in order to metaphorically fuck his brain was the fuse-lighter for his perfect climax. When the first hints of the alien's chemical-laden membrane reached Teryx's brain, his erotic sensations intensified out of control. He could feel every smooth motion of the dragoat's rear so much more now. He could feel the urgency rising in his groin and snaking its way outward and up his spine.

The peak was right there... but as it approached, Teryx's mind wavered with odd images and impulses. He felt a fading, zonked-out sense of confusion, along with a thrumming echo of a bliss that wasn't his own. He felt furrier and warmer. In his mind's eye he saw a crystal-clear image of looking down at himself.

It was like he was the dragoat, from mere moments earlier. Teryx felt everything: every sensation of being in the dragoat's body and reaching climax, as if Commodore had recorded each sensation from those final seconds and carried it across the gap from ear to ear. The pounding pulse, the tension and need, the slightest embarrassment at "hearing himself" bleating from the pleasure... and the hungriest, most intense need to adore the rain dragon. It was like a neurological hymn -- this burning, desperate crush which Commodore had cultivated in otherwise melancholy businessman -- and the memory sang it loud and clear into the mind of Teryx, that very same object of the man's desire. Never had Teryx experienced a view of himself that was so rosy. Every scale, every hair, every muscle was perfection. Worship-worthy. Necessary for survival. If Teryx had put a hand out and merely held it there, the Commodore-addled dragoat would have suckled on the fingers and moaned in adoration.

All of that was accompanied by the sensations of that overwhelming, dry-at-first climax. It wasn't a normal orgasm but something beautifully next-level, as Commodore often liked to inflict upon his hosts when he could, especially lately. It was a mind-compressing, full-body affair, honed by the alien's research across multiple brains and physiologies.

There was also that delicious feeling of compulsion -- the bizarre, animalistic need to rub ears together and let Commodore transfer over. The memory of leaning in to do that felt so utterly rewarding and right. It was the perfect cherry atop the ice cream of the moment's pleasure.

The memory cut off before the dragoat's proper eruption of semen, but the lack of that data didn't stop Commodore from seamlessly transitioning Teryx's subjective world into something else that was even more appealing: himself, with Commodore inside.

Teryx could feel the throbbing girth of his dragoncock again -- and the delightful grasp of his partner's rear as his mind exploded into wet, juicy orgasm. Orgasm that he could already feel Commodore "eating" the neurochemical brunt of. Reliving the dragoat's peak climax had revved up Teryx's body the rest of the way, and all that remained was to ride out the sensations as his thick shots spurted into his partner's rear.

Happy Valentine's Day, Teryx, said Commodore with a sinister smugness. I hope this qualifies as an acceptable first gift.

Teryx felt too good to think clearly. He rubbed his face against the dragoat's torso, nose pressing into the damp fur. First, huh, he thought some seconds later, while taking a few deep breaths.

Of course. I have plenty more.

Teryx abruptly found himself in a vivid flashback. He was once again in the perspective of Victor, restrained within this same room and in these same cuffs... and Old Salt was on his knees rubbing face-against-shaft to tease him. They were lovers on the down-low, and this was Old Salt's night off from running the bar. Teryx himself was nowhere to be seen... yet he somehow "knew" that the rain dragon was sitting out at the bar, blissfully unaware of his Commodore's absence.

But in his mind, he could also see Old Salt's hunky chest rising up -- catching the stringy load from his long, thin dick. Then there was the surge of "Use me, Daddy Orca!" feelings... and the look of lust as Salt's tapered prick brushed up against the dragoat's leg, in what could only be a warning that their encounter was far from over...

Throbbing. Panting. The slight noise of shivering and pulling within his restraints. Teryx blinked off the confusion and saw his own blue body and the fur of his partner's shoulders. The image of Old Salt had vanished.

Teryx felt the familiar bliss of his own, fully dragonish afterglow... lazy puddles after a heavy rain. And inside of himself... he felt the equally familiar feeling of the alien slug, poised and ready to assume total control. All while feasting. All while gorging on the bliss soup that Teryx's neurochemistry had whipped up for him.

Glad to see you're still not shy about being a parasite, Teryx thought back at Commodore, in perverse adoration.

Commodore continued not to be shy. Rest assured, this has been a delicious encounter for me so far. Feeding on two at once is positively decadent.

The dragoat's rear clenched up around Teryx's softening cock, and the spent meat slipped out a moment later. Teryx could feel how much his shaft was soaked with his own emission; given the angle, it had been oozing back down around him.

Heh. You say, "So far."

Indeed. So far. Now let's go farther.

Teryx... felt horny again. Horny enough to find himself grinning a predatory grin that was partly not his own. As that grin continued to spread and his hands arms flexed unbidden in their bonds, Teryx realized just how much "not his own" it was.

That realization felt good.

The seamless loss of control. The way Commodore so casually picked back up those reins he had dropped in exploring their little romantic "bet."

It was true what they said: absence did make the heart grow fonder. Having been without it even for this short while, Teryx could feel himself responding to Commodore's control with powerful adoration. A history of so much training and struggle -- a host and hosted who had grown deeply bonded through their mutually trained ability to push and pull just right for one another.

These were savory, complex feelings that formed a layer of true joy beneath the more primitive euphoria that Teryx's body was experiencing... and Commodore existed there within him, like a handsome blue dragon at a nude beach, sipping a drink under an umbrella while inviting all the world to gaze upon him. Basking in it. Taking it all in and feeding on it.

Subtly, in the various depths of Teryx's body, several of his glands were cranking up their activity. It only felt like a warmth and an occasional odd spasm at first. It was the body-sensing equivalent of watching water start to bubble before it came to a rolling boil. Teryx's brain and blood were was an elegant living chemistry set, once again subject to Commodore's skillful calibration.

"Undo them," said Commodore aloud, while shaking the cuffs pointedly and glaring down at the dragoat.

"O-oh, yes sir," came the reply. He appeared to still be ears-deep in a submissive mentality.

Commodore smirked. The bondage gear was still as effective as ever at restraining him, but nothing could restrain the grip of his command over one of his well-trained thralls. To let himself enter these restraints, knowing full well that he could tell someone to remove him from them -- that was the very essence of true dominance, and a thing which he had learned well from the lustful stew within Teryx's brain and then seen borne out in other hosts.

The dragoat turned and began undoing the restraints, before reaching for a towel.

"S-sorry if I wasn't perfect..."

The dragoat was stuttering and lisping as he knelt to clean Teryx's shaft. Commodore took the towel and tossed it pointedly aside.

Commodore Teryx folded his arms and replied, "Don't have to be perfect... just have to be obedient and do as you're told. I don't hold people to a higher standard than they can handle."

Like a shy little drone, the dragoat nodded. "Thank you Commodore..."

"Heh, why don't you clean me the right way and then say that?"

"O-of course... silly me, I got so caught up that I forgot all about worshiping your perfect cock..."

"Damn right. This vessel is far superior to you."

A gleam of draconic greed crossed the dragoat's eyes as he looked up Teryx's dick toward his nicely sculpted pecs and abs. "Ohhhh yes it is..."

"Bet you wish you were as free as I am."

"I wouldn't know what to do with it. I put on such a strong air, but I'd be no good as anything but a corporate slave... I mean, not really, y-you know? Mmmh..."

The dragoat's face was rubbing up against Teryx's fast-rekindling erection, even as he shyly said those things. Before long, the firm shaft was resting atop the length of the man's long snout. The long tongue would flick out and slurp at the base, and the nose pressed forward against the sheath-like slit. He was gazing cross-eyed at the dick that continued swelling bigger and harder. Both hands reached up to adore it.

Commodore stroked the man's head -- grabbed him by the horns and shook them playfully. The tongue grew more adventurous, starting to slurp up the length of the shaft. The dragoat was also getting hard again as he drank in the dragon's musk, the leftover seed...

"That's right... accept your weakness and serve me. It's good for you. I know what it's like, what you need... though of course, that's complicated, isn't it?"

"N-no, of course not! I'm your loyal dr--"

"Don't lie to me. Show me all of it. The whole spectrum, with all of its delicious contradiction and confusion. If you want to feed me better..."

Teryx experienced another flash of memory. Another clip from the dragoat's perspective, looking up at Old Salt. A different night... a cooler night, in this same room. He could feel his furred face, covered in seed, with the orca looming over him with that "not judging but not coddling" demeanor of his. Did he respect the dragoat, or not? Had they loved and then... not quite meshed? The dragoat felt that way at the time...

"It's not my fault I want dick this much," Teryx-as-dragoat was saying in the memory. "It's embarrassing, but it is what it is."

"You gotta get a handle on it," said Old Salt, his tone steady despite the calm of the afterglow. Hearing him speak felt like he was hearing from Commodore, even though the voice matched the man's usual.

"Pardon me, but I just sucked you off. How can you say that?"

"You're an adult, but you're being an impatient kid all the same. Why don't you man up? I mean really man up. Go ahead. I'll even bend over for ya. Why don't you give it to me and get all that pent-up angst of yours out?

"What good is topping gonna do? I bottom to let my stress out."

"What it'll teach ya... is to stop trying so damn hard to make yourself fit into a box. Why be depressed when ya could be happy? Why play at only wanting submission when you know you want both? Let out those raw instincts... really let 'em go. You're safe here. Safe to figure out what you really want."

Teryx became vaguely aware again that he was saying something aloud to his partner. He realized he was turning himself around... pressing in against the wall and striking a slutty, model-for-the-camera pose with his tail saying to one side and his lean thighs and butt where the dragoat couldn't help seeing them. Like he knew the dragoat needed this -- the memory motivating him to empathize.

Commodore, now purposefully Teryx as his mouthpiece, said, "Anyone worth his salt can fuck another man in the ass, don't you think?"

Reality and memory seemed to blend as the dragoat's split personality switched back over to... something else. Teryx became more aware that the man was fairly girthy for what he was, as that long prick of his found its way into the dragon's rear. Or, in the memory, into Old Salt's rear.

In the memory, Teryx was the dragoat once more. Salt's body was strong, warm... blubbery, good for touching and fondling -- so strong around his cock as he penetrated. His ass was so experienced, in all the ways that the vigorous penetrative efforts of the weirdly repressed businessman weren't. Victor loved it -- craved it. Fucking it was incredible.

Thus, for the first time in several minutes, Teryx thought of the dragoat as "Victor" again and not as a nameless species-puppet.

Victor needed this. Teryx felt the joy of that penetration -- even as he was also penetrated. Shaft and warm, kneading passage of flesh. Who was he? He was sex -- a union of two men in love.

Teryx heard his body's real voice, and that of memory-Salt, saying in unison: "Feels good, doesn't it?"

It did.

As he raided Salt's willing rear, Victor produced a more draconic-sounding growl that hadn't really been a thing in the prior memory. It was a darker, more aggressive side... something that completed the switchy puzzle and made Victor far more interesting to Teryx as a person.

Commodore's portrayal of Teryx's submission mirrored that of Old Salt: a thing of confidence and steadiness. There was no bashfulness or apology for his willingness to let dicks do what dicks do -- using every means and muscle at his disposal. This was something special for a dear friend and lover.

Feeling himself as dragon and dragoat both in one, he plumbed the orca's rear, driving them toward the inevitable -- all while using his own rear to milk that same penis he was experiencing. The moments layered together -- fucking himself, loving himself, being the intoxication felt as "love" by everyone involved. Commodore was making his point, and it was definitely a point, irrelevant of whether it was the whole truth of everything or not.

Despite having already climaxed, Victor didn't seem prone to lasting very long. Teryx could feel him getting close -- close in both times, that leaky tickle inside the shaft, the knowledge that holding back would soon be impossible... the frustration, the groaning, the awareness that one's body was only flesh and blood after all and could not go on forever...

"I hate this," the dragoat was muttering, even as he kept thrusting. "It's not fair that you leave me so lonely..."

Those lines weren't part of the memory, so Teryx figured it was from the present.

"Mmm, soon," said Commodore Teryx. "Soon you'll have one of me for your very own."

"I better... I-I hate waiting!" Victor started thrusting faster and harder, dick throbbing as if about to blow.

"That's right," said Commodore and memory-Salt together. The orca seemed ready to peak on his own terms -- an anal orgasm, the kind that could leave a guy writhing and passed out. "Let it all go. Cum hard for me, just like you will again soon. Cum so hard that you forget all about the specifics. Just remember me as Commodore Teryx, your handsome master..."

The memory blurred harder into the present as Commodore's speech continued. Less of Salt -- more of Victor's current straining and Teryx's deepening anal pleasure.

The soothingly phrased words seemed to be doing more to Victor's mind than their content alone would have suggested. He was twitching, shuddering... eyes tightly closing as he struggled not to lose himself in Commodore's words and the proximity of his climax.

"Nggh... aah... ghrrrrrgh!!!"

Back the pendulum swung. In the memory, Victor gripped hard against Old Salt's sides -- and Teryx felt those same hands against his own, squeezing so tightly, holding onto one more moment, trying to resist the compulsion to blow. A resistance which did not -- could not -- succeed. A quiet, resigned bleating...

He felt the spurty, smaller ejaculation -- both giving and receiving. A far cry from the impressive load from earlier, but a good one nonetheless.

Then there was a moment of transition, and whatever bit of Victor had been resisting gave up on more than just trying to hold back climax. Awash in the orgasm, he moaned quietly and seemed to settle down -- gazing patiently at Teryx's physique as he waited for new orders.

Memory-Salt pulled off right away, cum drooling from his rear. Commodore followed suit and whirled his host around, jerking at his hard dick with one hand.

"On your knees again," Commodore Teryx said.

Salt hadn't said that in the memory, but the dragoat was dropping to a kneel in both regardless. More because of elation and confusion with Salt... and more because of triggered mental programming in the present. The controlled rain dragon made a finger finger gesture between Victor's nose and Teryx's ridged member -- and the docile, obedient mouth moved in to lick, lick, lick...

Felt so good to lick... felt so good to be licked...

As the pleasure built up in him, Teryx felt an odd flash of thirst. He could really go for a glass of water right about now.

Tsk, not staying properly hydrated without me, I see...

Wait... was he thirsty, or was it memory-Victor?

Teryx tasted the oceanic musk of Old Salt's tapered cock -- heard himself let out a pleasured growl -- felt his dragoat neck get pinched in a rough form of encouragement.

I had a lot on my mind, Teryx quipped back, now sure of exactly whose thirst it was.

Mm. This one has a lot on his mind too. Just look how full our cock has made his thoughts. He can barely even move of his own free will.

Commodore was content to casually overlay this conversation, further, alongside the mixed memory and real-sex situation he was orchestrating. He was playing Teryx's brain the way a conductor managed an orchestra...

And Teryx's brain and body responded. Experiencing Victor's lust for Salt -- licking and suckling that shaft while feeling his own ridged draconic one getting a thorough and climax-coaxing treatment. His body shouldn't have much more to give right now, yet he knew he could give more... Commodore would see to it that he gave more...

The veins in Teryx's shaft felt tight and ached a bit. He could feel the warm flush of glandular activity as Commodore continued compelling his body to produce semen faster than the greatest pornstar could dream of doing. It was so forceful that it ached, but that diligent tongue helped to soothe him with every slurp... as did those hands as they fondled his too-swollen length. It mingled beautifully with the feeling of Salt's smooth, powerful hand working over his own length, which flexed and felt hot as the inevitable approached.

Teryx -- submitting to his Commodore and to the remembered orca even as he stood in enforced dominance over the dragoat -- thought back after that long pause: And you've made my thoughts full of you... just like it should be.

Full of us, Commodore corrected. This vessel I call home. This vessel I am perfecting.

The pleasure burned higher. Teryx took several sharp draws of breath before leaning down and grabbing the tip of one the dragoat's horns in his teeth. The rain dragon's back curled forward like a C, while his knees spread and his hips bucked with a monstrous fervor. The dragoat's hands, snug around his base as he fucked the man's face, lined up perfectly. Teryx's arms folded around the dragoat's shoulders as he passed the point of no return, eyes shut and all teeth showing as he passed the point of no return.

He pulled back just in time for a final show of dominance. Just as Old Salt's self-masturbated prick shot out round two onto his fuzzy face in the memory, so too did Teryx cum all over the dragoat's face with a "round two" of his own.

The memory faded fully. Teryx lost that smooth-skinned, tapered-cock taste and became grounded in the moment -- his spasms and Victor's subservience.

Commodore watched in pleased silence as the kneeling man licked up all the cum. Then it was a matter of getting the towel again and wiping up what little was left.

The dragoat stood again -- bowed his head in a strange gesture of submission before wordlessly taking a few minutes to make himself presentable again. This gave Commodore an opportunity to do the same.

"Thanks so much as always, Master-Commodore," the dragoat finally said to him, before turning and opening the door to let the both of them out.

The way he calls us 'Master-Commodore' sounds a little redundant, said Teryx, who now found himself serving only as a mental peanut gallery as Commodore managed their body.

"Until next time," said Commodore aloud, prompting the dragoat to nod.

He struggles with 'Commodore' also being a title and not only a name. A minor flaw in what is otherwise a gem of a host. He'll make a good home for my next bud.

Strange thoughts of paternity mingled with Teryx's own as they exited both the bondage room and, soon afterward, the Hot Pepper altogether.

However, the dragoat was following them. "May I drive you home, sir?"

The dragon smiled, in a merging of both host and slug impulses. "It would be appropriate."

Commodore was quite proud of himself for being the start of all this. Teryx was proud of him too.

* * *

What a grand bit of theater, Teryx observed a short time later as they rode along in the dragoat's little car. Setting me up to fall in love with someone you already made fall in love with me, within the context of his super-submissive persona that I'm sure you helped bring out and embellish. I hardly know what to think about all of that.

I thought he would be an effective gift to save for you, said Commodore.

Teryx remained a passenger twice over -- within the car, and within in his body. Commodore flaunted his control a little by rubbing casually at Teryx's well-spent groin while the dragoat remained laser-focused on the road. The casual lewdness made Teryx feel a little sassier.

A Valentine's gift in the form of a slutty goat and a bara orca's memories? Why, you shouldn't have~!

Those were not originally an intentional gift, so much as a happy accident, Commodore clarified. Realizing that I can reconstruct memories from the data I retain from host to host has been an interesting exercise. It can certainly help me train a host to have a broader perspective, if I choose to gift that host with such. Though it's difficult to store very much at a time. Our diminutive true bodies are not designed with vast memorization in mind.

Speaking of hosts, I noticed that you've been busier than I realized.

Absolutely. I often 'work on' people lately, when you're out of it. It's only practical to scope out hosts for my offspring well in advance. I've been programming that one for quite some time; he has been an interesting experiment in trustworthiness.

Heh, and his worshipful obsession with me?

Commodore's reply was clinical: Pragmatism. He's a switch like you, but much less uppity about his programming, so I've taught him to adore your body and give up his pointless concept of free will when 'you' make advances. A quick trip to the washroom together and a small block on your memory allows for perfectly smooth transitions.

Hm. You seem less like me right now... more alien again.

Commodore was unperturbed. Comes with the territory of rapid host switches. Not to worry; I'll sink back into my favorite parts of your perspective soon enough.

So I guess you think I'm like that guy? mused Teryx. just adoring you for neurally induced reasons. No love, only chemistry.

Commodore was coy. Oh, I don't know. What do you think?

I think that you're enjoying this.

Teryx could almost feel a smirk in his mind as Commodore replied, I think you're right.

It was their stop. Victor submissively pressed his snout against Commodore Teryx's arm, and the dragon gave him a kiss on top. From there, it was an easy exit. The rain dragon parted his jaws in a grin and made his way to his flat.

So, you won't tell me? Teryx persisted.

Instead, let me ask you a question. Do you love your flat?

Teryx considered that. I like my flat very much. I would even say it's home... a place where I can go after a long day and be myself, and all that.

Commodore physically nodded as he walked. I think you've answered your own question. You're the body for me.

Teryx laughed on the inside. That's... surprisingly cheesy.

It is not. Also, you wish you could hug me and are annoyed that it's physically impossible at the moment.

Do it in a dreamscape tonight then.

...You're also feeling bashful.

Hush, this is weird!

It sure is. I never thought being alive would turn out to be this complicated.

Inasmuch as any statement could be for the alien, that one was earnest. There was a flicker of memories -- blindness, seeking, following the trail of chemistry that led to a brain. The feeling of limbs, of body, of... ego, proper and full-featured. Consciousness of a kind that could not properly exist without the host.

Something clicked into place, and Teryx Commodore and Commodore Teryx moved as one for a while. Undressing, showering, getting ready for bed...

Home. Together.

They must infest; they must spread -- Commodore's instinct decreed this without option for dissent. Yet, also, optimally, they would become this. This union.

Whether or not it was love was... open to interpretation.