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"No, Sir"

Yes, Commodore: Volume 4, Chapter 3

For TeryxC by DolphinSanity

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Departing the massage parlor without Commodore in him left Teryx experiencing a deliberately conflicted pair of qualia: enforced euphoria on the one hand, and separation anxiety on the other. "Deliberately conflicted," because he knew perfectly well that Commodore had rigged his brain chemistry that way. At the least, the slug would have set up the euphoria as a parting gift for the sake of good behavioral conditioning; the rest would follow naturally from Teryx's emotional bond toward the alien.

So Teryx walked out, sat on a small waiting bench at the foyer of the spa complex, and waited for Harry. Feeling disoriented and alone -- and absolutely wonderful.

It would be hard to overstate the impact of the latter. Teryx's neurons were practically frying with the highest of dopamine highs. Every instinctive vibe in his head indicated that he had done the thing, the ultimate thing, the MOST important thing, and that he had succeeded: he had let Commodore out of his ear properly to do necessary work.

What was the old saying? "If you love something, set it free?"

He had a few minutes for the parting-gift high to settle down before Harry would return; Teryx spent these with his arms folded and eyes shut, slowly inhaling and taking in the ambience of the place. The subtler steaminess of the front rooms was pleasant to him; he could almost imagine himself as some legendary flying dragon inhaling whole clouds through its great nostrils before dispensing them as rainfall here, a typhoon there -- whatever each place needed, or perhaps deserved.

It put a smile on his face to consider that Commodore trusted him with remaining aware of his "pro-slug" status at this time: no blocking the memory; he was a complicit and (mostly) lucid ally to whatever shenanigans the tiny invaders would soon bring down upon this ship... which, presumably, was more of the usual. For all of their control and machinations, they craved reproduction and, well, experience. Those were the anchors of relatability -- the two least alien things about them.

Teryx cracked a grin. Then there was everything else.

Ambiently proud of himself, Teryx took a deep breath of the mild air and puffed out his sculpted chest. It occasionally caught him off guard just how honed his body was becoming lately. When his memories were blocked, he would often assume he'd always been at this perfect intersection of beef and tone, but for now he could recall that Commodore had been engaging in a dance of hormonal, dietary, and activity regulation with him for some time to ensure peak fitness, beyond the usual athletic-plus look that the dragon normally wore. He wasn't sure, but he suspected some of the clothes he packed for this trip were new -- a concession to some of his older shirts feeling a little too tight about the chest and arms.

He wasn't horny right now, but there was an almost idolatrous reverence for his own body lingering in his mindset. He traced a finger down his chest, weaving it through the narrow cleft formed by his pectorals and down toward the orderly canyons of his abs. This was a brilliant host body. He continued to inch the finger lower, like a slug at an exploratory crawl, before stopping along a thigh. No wonder that dog Askim had been so into him...

He gave his thigh a pat. Retaining his memories like this should also prove useful in case Sir's ego grew too big for its breeches... too plump for its tiger? The metaphor of a slug in undersized pants wasn't really working, comical though the image was. (Teryx, though, fancied he'd look great in undersized pants right now....)

Inevitably, time was passing as he waited. As the luster of his elated peak faded, the rain dragon found himself facing up more directly to that vacant, terribly absent feeling: Commodore gone. An emptiness emerging from the dopamine fog.

...Damn. As obnoxious as his quips could sometimes be, it always felt deadening when Commodore was gone. Like losing a limb, or worse. Was it possible to experience a phantom "mental peanut gallery"? An itchy echo of the sarcasm and ribbing that were no longer there?

Though, it was far worse than merely losing that friend who always knew the right way to be a dick. He really did feel like part of his own mental capacity was missing. "His own," because Commodore had interwoven so deeply into how he functioned. Even some of this self-desire he had felt in these past few moments might've been more "Commodore" than "host" in terms of habits.

Commodore might be able to function in any given host without Teryx, but Teryx was starting to doubt his own long-term functioning without Commodore. Manipulation and motivational programming aside, he didn't even want to think about trying to keep track of all the things the slug had scheduled or planned without having the alien there to shift his mental context around and aid in remembering and focusing.

Once one got used to having one's brain constantly hacked, it was easy enough to let it become the new normal. As Teryx had learned over these past months, linking up with a creature capable of full-blown memory manipulation was tantamount to having a file compression service available for anything else in one's brain, as the situation required. Block a few connections here, unmap a few references there -- and suddenly the memories and context would focus so much better in the desired direction. It could be stiff and chemically brutish at times, but it was an art form otherwise, and Commodore had become good at it.

Funny that Sir seemed so much worse at it despite being more florid and showy about the urge to make and change things. Maybe it really was a matter of the slugs' "original versus clone" relationship issues, plus host differences. In theory, they should otherwise both be pretty much the same.

Speaking of which... when "Sir Harry" returned, it was with only a towel still wrapped around him and his tail slowly swaying along a broad path behind him. He had a hungry look, like whatever had happened during his massage really got him going -- but fell short of true satisfaction.

Maybe Harry's heavily beaten-down creative side -- now appropriated and used by Sir -- had taken an unusually great appreciation of the art and craft of a fine massage... or, maybe it was just "milking time" soon, and the tiger was being induced to horniness because of that. It was never too easy to be sure with someone hosting a slug.

"Big cat needs more rubdowns in the future," said Sir Harry with a wink, casually tucking his arms low at his sides to show off their muscles and those of his torso. "Dragon looks a little emptied out."

"You could say that," said Teryx, placid and forming a smile. He eyed the tiger up and down. "I wonder whether you'll get dressed or try for some after-dark parading along the upper decks."

"Fun idea; needless risk," said the tiger. "We'll do that some other night when we have a better handle on the place." That idiom normally referred to understanding something well enough to deal with it, but Teryx couldn't help imagining a slug pulling on a tiny handle in order to manipulate the ship itself. He wondered if the double meaning was intentional.

Such a meaning would certainly resemble Commodore's usual evil-yet-measured approach to things. It also prompted Teryx to ask something: "In the first place, 'you' aren't that much of a show-off, are you?"

Lowering his voice, Sir Harry said, "On the contrary, that urge has been nicely sculpted. I've put this meatsack through enough dreams of it that he can't not react. I can feel his shy, adorable panic even now, heheh..."

Teryx had been making a perhaps too-subtle jab at the idea that the slugs themselves didn't like to show off their real bodies, but it had wooshed past Sir's awareness and led to the slug talking about his host. Then again, Sir might prefer to identify with the body and neurology that was Harry, rather than the considerably more limited slug form... much like how Commodore had cultivated that persona of his own within Teryx.

In any case, Sir's tyranny over Harry's body was having arousing results for the tiger. Teryx could see it in the size of the pupils, the cadence of the breath, and the too-low swishing of the tail, like a predator hungry to pounce during mating season. Harry's fracturing mind might still hate the aliens, but he'd be a liar if he said they had failed to find and push every erotic button he had.

After visually confirming that they weren't being watched at the moment, Teryx put a hand on the tiger's towel to feel the rising bulge. It was going from chubby to raging in a matter of moments. Sir's manipulation wasn't exactly going for a slow burn.

The hosted alien continued in a soft but sultry way, using the tiger's hand gestures to simulate the positioning of what he described. "I enjoy exposing him before his whole imaginary dream-tribe, his ass hoisted by the stronger hunters as they dominate him. Him mewling like a housecat as he blows it all on the grass. Some strong personality he is -- it's all a front, isn't that right, Mr. Kitty?"

Teryx felt the erection dry-spasm twice, and the tiger grinned even as a gasp of pleasure flowed from his jaws. Teryx felt another strong hit of reward, too -- the satisfaction of seeing another host feed his slug.

"Mhhrr, doing it this way isn't the best," Sir admitted, seemingly in assessment of the amount of resources the tiger's brain had just provided, "but we can do it a lot. Enough average results done fast enough will outpace one or two golden moments with ease."

Teryx shrugged, doing his best to remain shrewd despite feeling an urge to help masturbate Harry. "Quantity over quality. There are arguments for it."

"Hell yes there are," growled the tiger. "Even a flexed muscle isn't one contiguous thing -- it's a whole bunch of cells organized in tissues, all contracting at once to exert a change upon the world. I will do my part to get us more 'cells' to flex."

Strength in numbers -- certainly a mantra the slugs would find appealing. Teryx imagined Sir flitting around in Harry's body, seeding offspring after offspring in one unwitting and unwilling victim after another. Their minds in bondage, their bodies hopelessly and erotically milked for their juices, the hosts trapped in a maze of pendulum swings between fear and bliss...

...There was a bulge in Teryx's shorts now, too. Not one that he felt any urgent need to act upon in Commodore's absence, but a bulge nonetheless. He could have sworn he wasn't so amorously in favor of the slugs infesting the entire world in the past, but there was no denying the situation now. Even the emotion itself felt genuine... even if it might be inherited from Commodore using his body.

The idea floated in Teryx's mind for a moment. Was that what happened? Had Commodore used Teryx's brain to process an emotional value judgment about the situation that he couldn't even feel within his slimier, sluggy body? The dragon wondered.

Sir spoke up again, extending a hand as if in greeting. "C'mon, you look bushed; let's go get dinner."

Bushed? Teryx wouldn't say that... pensive, maybe. Then again, the slugs weren't innately good with anthros' social cues, and Harry was far from an expert.

The dragon reached to take the tiger's hand -- but, instead of a handshake, received an immediate upward hoisting as the tiger grabbed around the small of his back with the other arm and flexed both legs to stand.

The towel around Harry sagged along both thighs, exposing part of his orange-furred ass. Pressure from Teryx being pulled against him kept the frontal waistline from falling.

"You sure you aren't planning on getting naked?" Teryx asked him.

"Very funny. Hold it up while I go to the dressing room."

"What--"

With a suddenly violent scowl and an intimidatingly quiet tone, the tiger said, "I give the orders. Do it."

Teryx arched his brow incredulously but said, "Yes, Sir..."

* * *

Sir Harry got dressed without further incident, setting Teryx down once they were in the room. They got a funny look from a member of staff on the way in, but it wasn't weird enough to make him actually stop them. It probably helped that Teryx managed to play it off like he was having fun.

"You are going to romance me, Dragon," Sir said while settling into a different shorts-and-tee outfit. It looked new, but it wasn't clear where or how he had gotten it... some other host on board who had coordinated with him behind the scenes?

It was a darker, tiger-striped ensemble that would blend well with his fur pattern in dim light: edgier crimson stripes with a dusky, burnt-orange main color. Not exactly attire for a luau, but appropriate for a brooding jock-but-closet-nerd like him.

"I always romance you," said Teryx, silently leaving the shirt unaddressed for now.

"No, but I mean really do it. We're on vacation now. There is much to learn."

That alien edge to their psychology was showing again. Sir and Commodore both had this tendency to see even the softer things in life as a formulaic process, more chemical science than art form.

To their instincts, romance was more like inserting ingredients into a video game's oven and selecting "Cook!" for an instant and predictable result, rather than an imperfect process which needed to be observed with attentiveness, care, and the right amount of passion. Chaos and a host's "free will" were merely variables to control and (when needed) adapt around.

Teryx had argued about this with Commodore on a few occasions, such as during their Valentine's Day escapades, but the quip-in-reply was always to the effect of, "Once I know well enough what's going on at a chemical level in each participant, it really will be reducible to a list of ingredients. No process in your brains is as magical as you like to think."

Teryx still imagined they could go back and forth about that issue for years -- and, as such, he didn't bother confronting Sir on it now, especially given that Sir seemed to be having the even less-nuanced, "first few months of Commodore" reaction to the notion.

"You're in luck," said Teryx, gesturing a palm proudly against his own puffed-out pecs as he grinned. "Demonstrating the ways of male romance is a speciality."

"So you've said before. But can you do it on a cruise ship?"

Teryx smirked. "On a cruise ship is so much easier." Then he squinted. "Oh, but not dressed like this."

Sir Harry frowned, his whiskers drooping sullenly. "Why not? These bodies are--"

"Not the bodies, the clothes! C'mon!"

Teryx grabbed the controlled tiger by the hand and led him back to their cabin.

* * *

A short walk later, they changed into their dinner-dress suits for the evening. Sir probed his host's memory banks well enough to remember that a white shirt and black pants and vest would look good on him, producing a look of confidence and still showing off the thickness of his chest and arms. Teryx went for a white shirt with a blue and yellow-striped tie that closely matched his mane and lighter scale patterning; he completed the look with a navy-blue jacket and pants, capturing the darker parts of his natural color scheme. They looked quite handsome together in the mirror, if Teryx said so himself -- and he did. Out loud. While smiling and giving their paired reflections a wink and a thumbs-up.

"Logically speaking," murmured Sir Harry, "It is still a bit odd to consider that you are this much into your body when you have always lived in it."

"It's not illogical at all," protested Teryx as they headed to the door. "Sometimes brains see their bodies the same way you see them. Our natural slugs are just, uh, pre-installed."

"Yes, but Harry does not so unironically... nevermind." He finished the statement with a small chirr into a low growl, before shaking Harry's head in an odd, twitchy-looking way.

Sir seemed genuinely a little flustered, perhaps cross-comparing data about trait narcissism he had collated across multiple hosts, and Teryx loved to see it: partly because it meant Sir might be learning something, and partly because it was still just fun to cause the aliens a little frustration every now and then.

Teryx let the issue drop for now, content to let Sir stew on it. It was date time! And, after a hike to an upscale restaurant around midship, Teryx and Sir Harry were soon in the right environment for some proper romance.

It was an open-air dining experience, courtesy of large windows and balconies that exposed the restaurant to the outside. The menu was a Mediterranean medley, but the specialties were pasta-and-sauce dishes featuring seafood proteins, with vegan options available.

The layout of the restaurant was narrowly rectangular, with regularly spaced nooks in the walls providing withdrawn yet open booth seating, creating that sense of space and separation between oneself and the next table over without blocking off contact outright. Numerous ordinary tables dotted the floor, with a long banquet table arranged near the center, currently occupied by a massive extended family of ferrets, who had presumably reserved it. All of the lighting came from lamps -- pale yellow and white, almost lunar in quality, meshing well with the natural lighting that peeked in through a large skylight that ran the length of the establishment.

Socially speaking, Sir had improved somewhat compared to the early days; he could wear the mask of Harry well enough to seem not entirely like either an aloof nerd or a rapey predator. He seemed at his best when he put his more creative leanings to good use -- jokingly taking a napkin and folding it up before inserting a finger into it and moving the napkin around with his other hand, making Teryx snicker as they silently joked about their nature and situation. It was silly, but it was subtle and good.

These moments contrasted against some tackier failings, such as crudely flirting with their flamingo waiter despite having no interest in him, forcing Teryx to play diplomat and smooth things over, so as to avert any trouble when their food was delivered.

Before digging into their still-steaming meals, Teryx had them pause to look into each other's eyes and hold hands while they took in the aroma. Sir was... stiff about it.

"Relax," Teryx whispered. "It's an interaction, not an arithmetic problem. Don't give me ten units of grip and never vary."

"I am more than generous with the hand-holding, normally."

"Is it that hard of a job? You're 'Harry,' right? You know how to do it just fine."

Sir Harry withdrew the hand and folded his arms, seeming too full of himself to take the criticism right now. Changing the subject, he said, "So. Who do you see that you'd want a threesome with?"

Teryx quirked a brow. "That I would want a threesome with? Well, you for starters~"

The tiger chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, of course~" Teryx took a bite and slowly surveyed the room.

The restaurant's attendees were from a smorgasbord of species. Selecting only for fit-looking adult males left him with a twunk white wolf, a remarkably muscular but somewhat short otter, and one particularly beefy orca having dinner at the same table as two swimmer-built dolphins, one of whom looked older than the other. The dolphins looked possibly related, though it was hard to be sure how, based on appearances.

Teryx had only a backside view of the orca -- whose too-tight white dress shirt was straining under the shifting geography of his back and shoulders as he ate -- but Sir Harry's eyes lingered on that one with a strong bias.

"That guy reminds me of where I put my first," the tiger whispered, implying that his first budded spawn had been planted in a similar male. "Can't beat a fit orca for stamina. That man could cum once per breath if I worked at it."

"A blow per use of the blowhole," Teryx quipped, not having yet considered what the slugs' manipulations could do for a cetacean. "Fascinating."

Wait. An orca. Wearing a navy-blue suit like Teryx's own, except that guy's was so expensively branded and pristinely maintained that you could smell the spent money in the air if it passed by your face.

There was a weird spike of stress in Teryx's system. His heart rate and blood pressure rose, and he had the fleeting memory of eroticized embarrassment and feeling several hot loads hit his face and chest. The sensations formed a tiny but visceral flashback: laughing, roaring, carousing men... drunkenness, the feel of something wet and warm throbbing against his neckline....

Teryx came back to himself abruptly. Whatever the memory was had slipped from his grasp and fallen back into the filing cabinets of his regimented brain.

"I'm sure the bit of myself I left behind in him has found even more ways to have fun," the tiger was saying. He seemed proud of making such a poetic reference to the budded offspring being clones of the original slug. "...Mm? You okay?"

Teryx breathed and nodded. He felt focused and determined, like he really wanted to meet that guy. "Hmm... perhaps we could lure him and his buddies over with a bit of tiger bait."

Sir laughed. "You want me to offer to sub? That's cute."

"Well we both know how much Harry gets off on it now that you've had him for a while."

"Ehhhh. True."

"So why wait? Go bother Orca Daddy into putting the naughty cat in his place!"

To Teryx's surprise, Sir Harry got up immediately and went over to greet the orca and dolphins. It was hard to make out what they were saying over the din of the restaurant chatter, but there seemed to be personal recognition between them. Both dolphins looked at the tiger with oddly focused interest -- then glanced over to Teryx -- before Harry returned to his seat.

"Well?" wondered the dragon aloud, while silently considering that the three of them might all be hosts already.

"He looks familiar because he is familiar," said Sir. "He's the same orca."

"Huh. Well, small world. You didn't invite him?"

"Nope. Which makes me wonder."

Teryx spoke subtly, referring to Commodore via the pronoun game: "I didn't, and I don't recall him doing so, either. Not that the latter point counts for much."

Sir Harry seemed to put the question of how they synced up aside for now. "I could swear he's already made his two buddies part of our fold, too. As buff as he is, he's a pod-mammal stereotype... really got into the idea of making a bigger and more cohesive group, even while I was in him. He's actually an industrial engineer, believe it or not."

"Body like that? Damn."

"Hottest thing in his office. Not unlike 'me,' really."

"Speaking of his friends though, they looked at me."

"Oh, yeah. I mentioned I was with you. They know who you are. We all do."

Teryx nodded; it was part of the perks of being Host Zero. "They wanna play then, or--?"

"Didn't ask yet, but I'm sure they could be persuaded."

Teryx's gut said Sir was probably lying to him. Maybe it was because the answer to that question would so obviously be yes, and it was almost impossible for the slugs to encounter each other even briefly without starting to arrange a milking session of their hosts. Then again, maybe Sir's motives weren't typical right now, given how this whole romance "scene" had gotten started.

"Too bad he's already yours," commented Teryx. "How 'bout that otter?"

"Heh. How 'bout... he does look 'viable.'"

"If you don't mind 'em a little shorter."

"Height is relevant for certain head-to-head activities," -- the tiger flicked an ear and tapped it -- "but that's about all. I'm curious how he sculpted that out of what he was born with."

"Sounds like the Harry I know, all right," said Teryx with a wink.

Sir Harry shrugged and chuckled. "Why wouldn't I? I am Harry, after all."

"Of course!" Continuing from his original point: "Drawn to those men who've really done something extreme with their physical development, just like he has... it's certainly admirable.

They ate quietly for a while, settling into the inevitability of actually getting their food down. They were around three-fourths done when the otter slipped off to the bathroom; at that point, Sir made a move, using his napkin before dropping it on the table and heading in to follow.

Teryx felt for a moment that he should get up and help -- then felt the strangest sense of it not mattering and stopped. Some tickled neuron in his head remembered something the rest of him didn't.

The tiger returned a few minutes later followed by the otter, who waved at Teryx and strangely blew him a kiss before turning, wiggling his tail, and walking out of the restaurant.

The tiger sat down and facepalmed. He took out his phone and sent someone a text, remaining quiet at first and looking clearly annoyed.

"So uh... how'd it go?" Teryx asked, momentarily unsure whether he was still talking to Sir or just Harry.

"I've been cucked by your dear Commodore," the tiger grumbled.

Teryx blinked but couldn't stop himself from chuckling. "Pardon?" Why did this seem so... humorous?

"He's got one of Commodore's in him. Apparently we have really similar instincts for who to seek out, even when working from a different headspace, let's say."

Teryx found that interesting. "I wonder whether his reasons were the same or not."

"Dunno. Totally has him though. Said he knows a guy who knows a guy named Rale who knows you, or something."

Teryx's jaws flattened, the dragon failing hard at making a poker face. "There might be a connection like that, yes."

"He recognized me as your boyfriend, even though I'm certain 'I've' never met him. I assume he carries some memory from 'Dad'."

Teryx chuckled as politely as he could. "Likely."

Their community was spreading. It was impossible not to acknowledge this now. And, at least two specimens of them were on this same cruise... for reasons. Either the slugs had planned it and hadn't coordinated... or maybe just Commodore had coordinated it, without telling Sir in particular? Sir genuinely didn't seem to know why this convergence was occurring, and that bothered him -- as it would surely bother any of Commodore's ilk if plans were made without their consultation.

More texting -- the tiger looking less agitated. He tugged his shirt collar and took a deep breath, making the fabric strain a little. He didn't do that nearly as well as the orca, but he seemed to want to.

In the end, they finished off their dinner and left without Sir trying to claim anyone there as a new host. The wolf didn't meet some... vague standard of his, and the rest simply weren't "interesting," whatever that meant. In all honesty, it seemed like Sir had stopped trying to decide on a new host at all since that bit with the otter -- perhaps with his pride wounded after realizing Commodore had gotten there first.

* * *

On the way back to their room, the first-night concert could be heard firing up in the distance. It was an event which Teryx and Harry's boyfriend-sonas had already agreed to skip when planning out their vacation, because neither of them were into the bands who would be performing at that one. There would be other opportunities for musical nightlife later in the cruise's itinerary.

"I'm feeling all energized," Teryx admitted. "Doubting I'll want to turn in early."

"I can go as long as I need," said Sir Harry. "Though now I regret not planning for that concert. Would have been an ideal environment for ambushing a new friend."

"Perhaps you could coordinate something with your man-on-board," Teryx suggested with a wink.

Sir Harry grinned till his fangs showed. "I may have already done so."

"Oh, I see," Teryx said, his tone mock-pouty, "So you're just making plans without me now."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't be the only one," snipped Sir Harry.

"Whatever politics are going on, I had nothing to do with it. Not consciously, at any rate."

"Fair. You're just a blue suit for a rainy day."

"Pardon me! I may be a rain dragon, but I am all-weather handsome."

Sir Harry gave him a clandestine clap on the ass. "Yeah, a handsome rain dragon who's into water mammals."

"There can be a lot to like!" protested Teryx, curling his tail and hips away -- but not too far.

"You were ogling Mr. Orca like he was the only interesting seafood in the whole restaurant."

"Oh, that isn't true," scoffed the dragon. "Dinner was lovely."

"Heh. Well..." The tiger scooted in close again, firmly groping Teryx's butt and giving the seat of his pants a tug. A little more than just a playful tease. "...Still, it wasn't as lovely as you, hmm?"

"Mr. Tiger Knight!" Teryx whispered in mock outrage, "you mustn't handle me so in public. It could be scandalous."

"Hah. Like anyone will see if you don't make noise."

"A devious deduction."

"And we both know you won't make noise."

"Mmm..." Teryx sauntered forward at a slow drift, swishing his tail cat-like for the tiger.

"...As I get inside you."

Teryx chuckled, pausing between the doors to a small washroom and its adjacent janitorial closet. Keeping up the faux medieval princess gag, he said with sagely conviction, "You will find that the willingness to suffer for a cause they believe in is one of the most beautiful traits of the people who live upon this world."

The tiger's hand grabbed at Teryx's bulge, the breadth of Harry's body largely obscuring their antics from prying eyes. "I can feel the great depths of your suffering from here."

"Shhhhh, let me have my moment~"

Coldly, the tiger whispered: "You can have your moment later, slut."

They kissed. Harry's tail raised and swayed in short, pointed strokes -- a form of emoting that he tended toward when he felt dominant yet playful. He checked Teryx for signs of further arousal and was annoyed to find that it looked like the slugless dragon wasn't fully hard. If anything, Teryx had gone softer.

Sir Harry opened the door to the washroom and pointed, but Teryx was reticent, pulling away and shaking his head.

"You still haven't romanced me properly. Besides, it's customary to wait for your third if you have something in the works with that orca."

"Maybe I don't wanna wait. You ever figure that?"

The dragon politely rebuffed him. "I do. Let's find somewhere nicer than a random bathroom. This is a cruise."

Honest opinions about classiness aside, Teryx's unstated ulterior motive here was to avoid the host-swap that Sir's speech had implied. He didn't particularly want to have that one in his brain again in Commodore's absence, nor did he wish to be responsible for dealing with a slugless Harry while Sir was still around to meddle.

Whether Sir caught this nuance or not, he relented within his role as "Harry" and became unaroused. In uncanny, alien fashion, the tiger's predatory attitude and bulging pants both deflated, his attitude pivoting in an instant as he settled down and became calm and suave again.

"Your skill at 'being people' still needs work," said Teryx with a smile.

"Lay off," the tiger grumbled. "This body needs everything as extremes."

"Then perhaps don't always give it what it 'needs.'"

Sir Harry glowered at him but did not confront further. Instantly resuming an un-angry disposition (and still missing Teryx's point about organic transitions of emotionality), he offered his hand to the dragon and resumed running what must have been the Sir equivalent of "romance.exe" -- a brain program to go through all the relevant motions (and neurochemical potions) associated with wandering about with a lover at one's side.

"Better," Teryx said as the tiger's movements became less stiff. "You might make a decent lover yet~"

"Heh, it's not the lover part I have any trouble with. It's all the dressing-it-up."

Teryx nudged his rib gently with an elbow. "All part of the dance, my dear." He looked to the sky and sighed. "We really ought to take in a nice ballroom dance on orchestra night. That's for the third night, I think... maybe you can come around again for that?" He winked, knowing full well that Harry would be with him then, but that Sir might not.

"We'll see," said the tiger, his tone unenthusiastic but not dismissive.

They slowed their walking for a few moments at a time as the tiger took out his phone and traded further messages with the orca. Teryx tried to look at his screen but found himself held away: "That isn't polite either!" the tiger grumped.

"You're quite chatty with him."

"Yup. He's going to meet us," and that was all Sir Harry said as he kept walking.

As they neared their destination, the tiger paused beside something analogous to a dark alleyway within the ship's design: a narrow cut between two upper-deck structures, where the overhanging lamp that would normally keep things bright had gone out. Following it to its conclusion offered a nice view of the cascading balconies of the lower decks, and the lack of lighting made it that much nicer.

"It is customary on a date to take in the view," purred Sir Harry, winking as he pulled Teryx over.

"Indeed it is," said the dragon, reciprocating the tiger's embrace as they walked leg-against-leg into the shadows.

"Shall we?" asked Sir Harry as he led Teryx over.

"You're learning," said Teryx, a little proudly.

Or maybe not. Several seconds later, while standing in the shadows and gazing out over the edge toward the sea, Teryx found himself grappled from behind by a pair of beefy, sleek-skinned arms: one holding his maw shut with a hand and the other pressing along his abs through the dress shirt.

"Pleased to 'finally' meet you," said a low voice that Teryx could easily imagine belonging to that orca from dinner. As he squirmed in the grasp and felt it tighten, he could also imagine the mountainous muscular bulk belonging to the guy. It felt titillatingly familiar, even though no memory was forthcoming.

It occurred to Teryx just how big the one extremity holding his maw shut was... fingers like sausages, wrapped in a smooth ebony skin. The entire mitt was the sort he could imagine some movie supervillain using to terrify a smaller creature, merely by folding it shut around the head and holding the victim up.

The skin was almost odorless. Orcas weren't known for being musky, but this one smelled like nothing at all, as if he had taken extra pains to make himself perfectly clean before the dinner. Even now, Teryx could smell traces of whatever was used to dry-clean the suit more easily than anything from the orca's biology.

Besides that, though, there was desire. Something in Teryx was getting its buttons pushed at being handled by him like this... more than usual, though given the public-but-hidden nature of the setting he was in no hurry to force the situation to get frisky. He knew, for that matter, that neither would they. This was about one slug or another taking his body for a ride.

The orca's genitals bulged against the small of Teryx's back. Even with two layers of fabric between them, the tapered member touching him was palpable, the head patting against him progressively like something aiming to crawl its way up his spine. Maybe the guy's fly was open and he was wearing some particularly orca-friendly underwear... or, maybe the pants were just forgiving enough to allow this much of a bulge when he wanted it. He seemed like the sort who might fuck hard over an old filing cabinet after hours at the office... but, that might Teryx's own fantasies talking again.

Either way, it was making his heart race and his dick uncomfortably hard in the tightness of his trousers. Trousers which he could easily imagine coming off, his body forced to serve and enjoy... Harry's coming down too, the orca's behind him...

"Thanks for the hand, Architect," said Sir as he helped casually guide Teryx further into the shadows.

"Just like you taught me," grunted the orca, the massive hand giving a few possessive-seeming rubs over Teryx's muzzle. "Always glad to help."

That second sentence sounded wistful, if cryptically so. "Architect" wasn't getting everything he wanted in this encounter -- not that Sir seemed to care.

The tiger simply rumbled. "Of course." Then, tapping his own nose in the dark, he added, "Be ready to help 'calm' this one if he panics."

There would be no danger of that. The pants were still on, but they might as well be off. Teryx was about to be consensually non-consensually claimed in the dark at the edges of the ship. Slug to brain -- switch on, wear dragon, as easily as if he were a piece of fancy clothing. That was a level of penetration the penis could only dream of achieving.

From behind him, Teryx could hear the seams of the orca's damn shirt straining. Bloody hell, he was a tank. Possibly, the resident slug was amping that up somehow. Adrenaline boost? Something?

Before Teryx could ponder much more on it, Sir Harry was pressing up against him and preparing for the familiar ear-to-ear exchange, while the orca held him steady. A few moments later, it would just be Harry standing in a dazed, mesmerized state beside him, while that thick and moist feeling slurped its way into Teryx's ear....

The thought made the dragon shiver anticipatorily. He was so conditioned to this moment. Then, it happened for real.

The exchange was decadent, Sir passing from ear to ear with a faintly-audible series of squelching sounds -- then, that muffling warmth and fullness as his sluggy girth slipped inside the dragon's head. Programmed as he was by Commodore, Teryx could feel nothing but euphoria at the sensations, everything about the moment seeming spectacularly right, at least as much so as an orgasm.

With the orca host, "Architect," holding him still... as scary as that should have been, it was hard not to feel wonderfully and erotically taken like this.

It all made the neurological jolt of Sir connecting that much more poignant: while Harry recoiled into stupor from the disconnection, Sir surged to prominence as the invisible ghost within Teryx's brain. A fuzzing series of twitches and spasms -- control ceding to the alien whether the dragon liked it or not. The orca let go; Teryx looked down at the hands that were no longer his, using the eyes and neck that Sir had so affectionately rented out for the moment -- a control paid for with his rapidly flowing secretions.

"Anything else?" the orca asked casually as he stepped back.

"That'll do," said Sir through Teryx's throat, the dragon not hindering him with any resistance. "I'll call you if we need help with this one." A blue index finger pointed at Harry, who still looked thoroughly checked out from the world.

"Thank you, Sir," said the orca, before leaning in for a kiss -- which the infested dragon provided, nuzzling at the orca's large face and licking in to slurp along his tongue. He could still taste the olive oil from dinner. After breaking off the kiss: "Let us know when you want to play later."

"Of course."

With that, the orca wandered off. Harry remained there in his daze, only coming out of it when the dragon stroked under his neck and whispered, "Wake up, Kitty. Your Sir needs you."

Harry came to laser-focused attention, alertly watching the dragon's every move or suggestion, but did not speak. He was more automaton than man right now.

Teryx, despite his earlier reluctance, was still not fighting Sir's inputs, instead being patient and avoiding thinking too much. This was easier for him than usual -- a fact of which he would not become aware until later reflection.

"You will follow us to the room now," said the dragon, speaking in a deeper and more guttural tone than usual, reminiscent of how Harry might speak when very serious about something.

"Yessir." The tiger immediately relented and stood meekly nearby, his body language ostentatiously demonstrating his submission to the newly minted "Sir Teryx." Rather than feline aloofness, Harry seemed to be suffering the neurotic clinginess of a far more social animal. He followed at a distance of no more than two meters -- usually less, but without any invasive fondling. It was like having a second party member with an uncomfortably close "follow" AI, but Sir seemed to prefer it that way.

You really ARE a slut for us, Sir mused internally on their way back.

Welcome back, said Teryx. Couldn't stay away from Host Zero, I see.

It's perfectly like you to see yourself as important, too. In a way, you aren't wrong.

Sir's suave, flattering approach made the dragon suspicious. How roughly he treated Harry was well-understood at this point, so it was unlikely that he'd be this "nice" unless he wanted something. It was impossible to hide that ambivalence from the slug, who seemed to take it cryptically in stride.

* * *

Back in the room, the two undressed together in relative silence, Harry continuing to remain physically close. They undressed in front of the same large mirror in their bathroom. Sir Teryx gave Harry's junk a rough grope and squeeze, making the tiger purr as his ample balls got held and playfully tugged.

"You going to be a good kitty, or am I going to have to get your chastity for you?" Sir asked him.

"I'm a bad kitty," said Harry, his posture shrinking as the "kitty" mindset deepened.

"Heh. Yeah, you are, but it isn't worth my time. Not like I'm benefitting if you dry-cum in a big brain-loop right now. Rainy boy here isn't THAT into denying you, though I could see a good plowing in the near future. As long as I'm in this brain, I might as well sample the local flavors."

Harry nodded meekly, still seeming to have almost no will of his own. "Sir may do as he pleases."

"Of course. You will worship and adore my vessel, no matter what that is."

Sir nodded -- dropped to his knees as though that were a command, and began to nuzzle at Teryx's sack, licking the balls with soft, steady strokes.

"That's a good naughty kitty," said the dragon. He grinned too big, showing a devious looking amount of fang as he narrowed his eyes and stretched his arms up. "Damn... he's not wrong. Can't get away from wanting this body..."

Teryx felt a hum of arousal. His kink for his own lovely appearance was mingling with Sir's inherited drive to participate as part of this body and brain. The two mutually recalled that defining experience when Sir and Commodore had fought over Teryx in a consensus reality in the dragon's head. There was, for a brief moment, a shared imagining that it was happening again -- as though the image in the mirror was Sir, looking back at Teryx in lust and admiration. Or maybe Teryx was the one in the mirror -- doomed to exist forevermore as only an image while his body moved under someone else's will. Who could say?

The dragon's cock was plumping up fast, soon, the host would be ready to be milked and enjoyed....

Then, something happened. Sir would call it something going wrong, but it would soon become clear that it was all according to someone's plan.

Teryx seized up, spine arching and jaws gaping as he underwent a spasmodic partial seizure, reminiscent of someone being electrocuted. With his motor control now haywire, his hand closed and unclosed, eyes blinking out of sync from one another and his voice babbling nonsense syllables. Harry, freaked out by this, moved to a corner near the shower and physically cowered, curling his tail around his ankles as he hunkered down. Some sort of emergency panic-shutdown was triggering for him.

Sir managed to recover control for a moment. "At ease," he told Harry, who then promptly stood up and approached robotically again, stopping a meter away and looking straight at the dragon and passively smiling.

The dragon rubbed a hand to his forehead in confusion, saying, "What in the world... apparently Commodore left behind some landmines for me in here."

Teryx's expression blanked momentarily and then developed a cold, evil-looking smugness. "Sea mines actually," he said aloud as if Commodore were speaking. "I'm a water dragon after all. Think of them like exploding neurological urchins."

What did you do!? Sir shouted in their head while their body remained idle in front of the mirror.

Don't ask me, replied the host. This was all Commodore.

And you don't know anything.

Unable to resist teasing the slug, Teyrx answered in irony, Hey, I'm only the terrestrial servant; I can't imagine an inferior creature like me knowing much of anything.

Cute, but I mean this literally. You don't know anything. The memory either isn't here or it's scrambled. He's done more than merely blocking it.

Neurological encryption. Sounds fancy.

Never you mind, puppet. I'll get to the bottom of thi--

Suddenly a crackle of alertness ran through Teryx. He straightened fully upright, folded his arms across his chest, and then struck a half-sexy, all-sassy pose with one leg back, his tail, swaying, and his butt lowered. He felt very "himself" again, as though he were the one in the front seat of his mind and no longer hemmed in by Sir's influence... but he still didn't have control of himself. Instead, there was this riveting sense of focus and significance -- giddy excitement and anticipation. It was like having a gift box to open that was a genuine surprise, and feeling himself starting to pull the ribbon.

"Greetings, Sir," said Teryx without trying, his tone still like Commodore's. "If you are hearing this message, you have done what I thought you would do. Congratulations. You will find that the blocked memories for my plans for expanding my wing of our family are quite scrambled, as I don't want you getting an unfair advantage in our rivalry while I am away. You already know you should have picked a new toy to play with instead of trespassing on mine, but I also know you better than you may realize and have accounted for this. If Harry is watching: be a good kitty and say nothing until this is over."

Harry seemed quite content to obey that command, continuing to watch passively.

"As for the rest," continued Commodore in absentia, "I recommend finding that toy now and moving along. I have been working for weeks on an elaborate new form of parasympathetic conditioning which your intrusion has now triggered. You will find this dragon unable to develop an erection, and suffering from anhedonia in response to genital stimulation of any sort. If you want to milk him for pleasure, the only option I have left is for you to first switch him off and then bend over for someone else or a sex toy, deriving pleasure from the nerve endings in the rear. While this happens, just imagine that it's me bending you over and fucking you. Who's your daddy, Sir?"

Damn him, Teryx heard Sir comment.

Teryx's programmed posture changed to a double chin-tap with an index finger followed by a shrewd, upright stare into the mirror. "Oh, and if you're still curious, you will find each of these traps can be undone at great personal inefficiency by trial-and-erroring the synapses during REM sleep. If you truly wish to experience what this body has to offer, you may do so -- at the expense of falling behind in our little race to spread ourselves amongst the passengers of this ship. I am sure you won't pursue that path, because I know well what our instincts say. Please do be efficient and find a new plaything. Commodore out."

Teryx performed an involuntary thumbs up and wink at the mirror... and then returned to control of himself.

He blinked slowly. He looked to Harry, who was not really reacting, as though whatever had happened in front of him was some ignorable dream-thing.

"Well, that's all settled," said Teryx. "Kitty, you go wait for me in the bedroom while I figure out what else to do."

"Yessir," said Harry, immediately departing to go lie on the bed like a demure little thing, quite in contrast to the muscular heft of his form.

Teryx remained in front of the mirror looking at himself curiously, sort of trying to see Sir within his own reflected eyes. He felt an odd absence of any conscious input from the slug, even though he felt sure Sir must still be there.

"So... you going to make any comment at all?" he asked his reflection, which smiled back at him smugly -- because he himself was smiling smugly.

After a few more seconds, Sir spoke to Teryx, the voice detached and impersonal. Tell Harry to "act natural."

Trigger phrase, huh.

Yes. It will make him behave more like the boyfriend you're used to, though it will not remove all anxiety. Once you've oriented him that way, call him Harry and avoid pet-naming him "Kitty" too often, unless you want him to erode back into a fearful servant.

Presumably, Sir could have done this himself by asserting bodily control. Perhaps Sir didn't plan on being too hands-on about that for a little bit, in light of what Commodore's trap had done. Perhaps, to a slug's way of thinking, there was no point in putting forth the effort if the host couldn't be milked.

Teryx watched himself frown. That's really all, then? No comment? He was a little disappointed at the absence of proper rage from the slug. He felt as though he ought to be here to witness it on Commodore's behalf, but it wasn't happening at all.

The mission is important, said the slug, cryptically. We must spread. Competition is efficient; infighting is not.

Teryx wondered if Commodore's message had made Sir so angry that it had triggered a factory-reset of his personality, but his ponderance received no answer. Granted, it didn't fully seem like that anyway, but Teryx couldn't put his finger on what exactly the dynamic at play was. Maybe this reaction was baked into them as a form of conflict resolution... or maybe it was all a ruse.

Sir remained silent. Teryx fondled himself idly for half a minute, testing Commodore's declaration.

...It was the most boring self-teasing he had done in years. It was like touching himself again when he knew he didn't need it and didn't feel horny at all. It didn't feel bad, just dull... which was a weird place for Teryx Commodore to find himself.

He supposed that a quick mirror-pawing was out of the question, then. He headed back to the bedroom to pet Harry and to figure out what else to do.