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The dreams always began the same way; running, as if he were being chased by something. Vague memories of a forest, always misty and cold, that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon. No noise beyond the sounds of cracking branches, splintering wood and the wet crunch of dead wood beneath his feet. Even stranger were the glimpses he caught of himself, blurred through the thick fog and indiscernible from a shadow; as if his own body were incorporeal, a darker extension of the milky white haze the surrounded him.

The desire to run remained constant, even in this realization. His head would not move; his eyes refused to look back. Forward was all he could see, all he could drive himself towards until the world became nothing more than the ever present miasma; until even the ground lost all form. It ended, his hands clawing at the mists, fading as rapidly as the dream itself, until he awoke with a start.

Breathing was difficult to return to, his chest heaving as the numbness still lingering from the dream began to fade. The world settled back into its mundane form and slowly he began to remember his own weight, the mass of everything around him. It was comforting, the solidity of stuff, after feeling so insubstantial.

The dream had plagued him for years now, coming and going like the tides. He'd only told a choice few people and each interpretation always seemed to ring hollow. Sure, there was anxiety and trepidation infused in the imagery but he'd never felt horrified. It was like he was trying to get somewhere specific. A destination he couldn't even comprehend.

He'd learned it was never good to dwell on the dream for long. Too much consideration made it fade even faster from his mind. It also got him in trouble more than once, his mind still lost in that fog and not paying attention to where he was at the time.

Time! His eyes darted to the clock at his bedside. A half-hour remained until he needed to be at work. Swiftly, he snagged his clothes from the closet, hastily dressing as he stumbled his way out the door and into the city beyond.

Work was as much a blur as his dream. Swiftly moving from customer to customer; gathering plates, carrying food, taking checks. The door to the kitchen seemed perpetually open in both directions, barely qualifying as a barrier to entry. Orders flowed like a steady stream and while he'd managed to grab a bite to eat here and there, when the last customer walked out the door he still felt like collapsing to the floor in exhaustion.

As the kitchen staff washed up, he stepped outside with a handful of the wait staff in their closing ritual. A glass of beer on one hand and a cigarette in the other, they chattered on and on about their day, the monstrous customers they had to deal with and the certainty that they'd only need one more day on this job before they were out the door forever, chasing down some long held dream.

It had been a comfortable ritual for him, sitting with his coworkers and sharing a moment of peace and quiet before they parted ways. As the staff shifted, people leaving to pursue their own goals and younger members entering in as their first job, it became less and less of a comfort. Soon, he'd be the only one out there; sitting on an upturned milk crate and drinking by himself. Taking a final drag on his cigarette, he tamped the remainder out in the nearby ashtray before standing back up. That would be his last one, he resolved. It was high time he got rid of that habit at least.

Of course, quitting wasn't going to be easy. He'd done it before hundreds of times and each one wound up the same way, back at a convenience store with a fiver in his hand asking for another pack. That was why he grabbed a flyer from the store a couple of days back. The paper promised help with addiction, weight loss and a host of other issues with one simple consultation. Of course, the store was littered with flyers offering the same thing but for some reason, this one stood out amongst the rest.

The office detailed in the flyer was small, tucked away in the depths of an office building on a largely forgotten corner. There was no receptionist, just a middle-aged gentleman who answered the door after the first few knocks. Upon meeting his gaze, the counselor sighed deeply and showed him in.

"Again?" He asked, fatigue present in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

The older man settled in his chair, "Thomas, we have been down this road before."

"Wait. How do you know who I am?"

"Please, Thomas." The older man held up his hand, "we have done this dance a number of times before. We place you under, you stop smoking for a week, maybe two and then I find you at my doorstep again."

"You... you've hypnotized me before?"

"Yes. It's been three times now. Bad for business." He shook his head slowly. "Every time, you somehow suppress the memory. Our sessions are completely forgotten and you go right back to your old habits."

"But why would I keep coming back here if I don't remember anything?"

"That, Thomas, is the question we must now confront." Settling into his chair, the man waved Thomas to a reclining couch. "Please, take a seat."

Hesitant, he settled in against the cushioned leather and immediately felt a sense of familiarity. Everything about this room seemed to trigger the same reaction, as if it had been somewhere he visited long, long ago. It was unsettling and comforting at the same time.

"Now, every time previous I have dealt directly with your immediate issue, smoking. Clearly, that's not enough. So, we are going to take a different direction. When did you last attempt to quit?"

"I dunno, maybe a week ago?"

"Alright. That coincides with the trigger we implanted the week before." Reaching over to his desk, he lifted a pad and pencil. "How long did you go without a smoke?"

Thomas shifted uncomfortably for a moment, embarrassed by his lack of willpower, "maybe a day or two. Not long. I had a rough shift at work today and ... it was just too easy to start back up."

"Half as long as your first attempt and similar to your second. It seems you are getting progressively less receptive to the treatment."

"Does that mean you can't help me?"

"I hope not, but we need to delve a little deeper to be sure. Your work stress sparked the latest desire to smoke? How did you feel after that first puff?"

Thomas blinked. It had been rote reflex for so long; he hadn't even considered what it might have been like. "I ... I dunno. I mean, it was soothing. Like an aspirin with a headache. "

"So your smoking feels like a kind of self-medication?"

"I guess so." Thomas shifted on the couch, "I mean, you don't really think about it much."

"In most cases, no. Your relapses suggest that something may be a motivating factor beyond simple addiction." He jotted a few more notes down on the pad, "when did you first start smoking?"

"Years ago. When I was 18, I think. Fresh out of high school, in that awkward teenage half-adult state." Thomas let his eyes drift closed, "I was in a weird place, uncomfortable and awkward. Smoking was a nice, social thing to do. Settled my nerves and kinda made everything simpler."

"Simpler? Was there an issue you grappled with at the time?"

"No. I mean; I don't know. Normal teenage stuff I suppose."

"Was there peer pressure or some other sort of outside force?"

Thomas blinked, "there was this dream." Something in the back of his muddied mind was trying to reach out. "I'd have it every now and again. I just had it last night, in fact."

"Shortly after you stopped smoking but before you started again?"

"Yeah. I'm in this place. It's all a haze, the world and even me; like it's all just smoke." Thomas felt himself settle back into the couch reflexively. Images from the dream seemed clearer as he spoke, "I'm running. I don't know what from. Smoke is swirling around me like a mist, pouring from my breath. Nothing has any shape or form."

More scribbling. "Go on."

"There isn't much more to say. I never seem to get anywhere before I wake up. Though there are smells and sounds. Wood, moisture, those kinds of things. I think it starts as a kind of forest."

"And you've had the same dream since you were 18?"

"No. It was different back then but I don't know how." Thomas lifted his eyes to the ceiling tiles. "When I started to smoke, everything got hazy. Like the smoke was filling up the spaces in my dream."

"Somehow the act of smoking was easing this dream? Making it less antagonizing?"

Thomas nodded. "I think so. Didn't we talk about this before?"

The older man shook his head, "you never mentioned or hinted at it before." Setting down the notepad, he leaned towards Thomas. "Most of my clients just have addictive personalities. They need a little willpower to help nudge them over the edge into quitting. It's simple enough to implant that level of suggestion and help them overcome their habits. For you, though, we're looking at some sort of reflexive medication. The desire to smoke is tied to this dream and this dream is powerful enough to override your desire to quit."

"So, what do we do?"

"We induce a dreamstate."

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a sort of lucid dreaming. We take you deep enough to release the reflexes that are tied to your smoking and then push the suggestion in the direction of the dream. This will allow us to explore the dream in a controlled way so that we can try to find out what meaning it holds."

Thomas furrowed his brow, "what if it's just a dream about smoke?"

"Then you pay my fee and I suggest a different method of quitting."

Something about this ... Thomas couldn't really articulate the feeling he was having. It was anxious and scared but strangely elated. He really just wanted to kick the habit and if this meant he could, then maybe it was worth it. He settled back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling tiles.

"I guess, it's worth a shot."

"Not the most resounding responses, but I can understand your frustration." The therapist leaned back in his chair. "First, I'll need you to relax. Breathe in and out slowly. Listen to each intake and exhalation."

Mentally, Thomas was squirming. He was skeptical even with the suggestion that he'd been here before. This didn't seem to work twice before and it likely wasn't going to work now. Still, figuring out that dream could do something at least.

His chest began to settle into a steady rhythm, shoulders rising and falling with his slowing heartbeat.

That dream had always been there; just on the edge most days. No reason for it, it just leaked in and took over. He couldn't recall another dream since then that differed. Always the haze and smoke and running.

His eyelids drifted shut as the steady motions of his breathing and heart began to sync. He only just noticed that the therapist had been talking in a slow metered tone all the time. Like it was muffled by a wall or some unknown distance.

Slowly, his nostrils began to flare. Smoke was filtering through the air. Not acrid and harsh enough to make him choke. Instead it was light, airy ... almost comforting. It reminded him of exhaling after a long drag. Watching the cloud billow away and fade into the surrounding air, it was his little contribution to the rest of the world.

Now he could hear the therapist clearly, though he was nowhere to be seen. Everything was in a haze of fog. It clung to everything, distorting shapes and washing out color.

"What do you see?"

Thomas blinked, squinted and searched. His eyes couldn't stay steady on anything. Everything was in constant, almost imperceptible motion. "Just a haze."

"Focus. Find a single anchor point and focus on it. This is your dream, Thomas, make it real."

Gathering himself, he focused on a single point some distance off. Something that looked vaguely like a tree or shrub danced in and out of his line of sight but he willed his gaze to not waver. Slowly, the tree ceased its movements and began to take shape. A thick, strong trunk of an oak tree stood out from the haze. Thomas almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of it.

"There's a tree. An oak tree."

"Good," the therapist's voice was soothing, calming. "Now, use that point and look around. Let the rest of it fall into focus."

His gaze trailed away, passing across his full field of vision. Everywhere it fell, the haze lifted. It felt like he was painting with his eyes. Strokes of color stood out from the ragged strands of haze, clusters of tightly woven brush and brambles were all around him. Soon, the forest was completely clear to him, so real he could taste the sharp tang of the bitter leaves and smell the deep, rich earth beneath him.

"It's a forest. I see a forest."

He reached up to touch the bark and recoiled. His hand was little more than a trail of smoke. Everything about him was nothing more than wafts of mist and shadow.

"I don't see myself though."

"You've filled in the blanks about the world of your dream, now you need to find your place in it." The soothing voice echoed just outside of his immediate perceptions. "You need to focus on who you are in this dreamscape."

Thomas placed his hand against the cool bark of the tree before him, again settling his gaze onto the smoke that comprised this form. Part of him knew there was something under that distorting shadow. Part of him didn't want to know, though.

"I don't know ... I don't think I'm supposed to do this."

"I don't understand, Thomas. This is a dream. Nothing can happen to you in a dream."

This isn't a dream. The thought echoed in his head. This is a memory.

Smoke again began to seep in from outside his perspective, curling at the edges of his peripheral vision. He kept his eyes focused, locked on his formless appendage even as the smoke drew in closer around him. He could see fragments of shape and color, his hand taking brief flickers of shape before reverting to mist. Brilliant reds, shining blacks, thick and ropey tendons flexing with strength; these images flickered before his eyes as he tried to will his hand to take shape.

Now the smoke was thick, filling his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. It stung his eyes and soon, he couldn't hold his gaze. He turned to face the smoke and saw it; brilliant and horrifying as it encompassed his whole view. Fire. Raging, blistering and unquenchable fire given living form. It flickered at it reached out to him, sizzling as it touched the edge of his mist-like form. There was only one impulse that could pull him from its hypnotic scintillations ...

The need to run.

He found himself tearing through the underbrush, shuddering and whimpering as branches and brush he had given form to now tore at his half-formed body. Fresh wounds appeared across him, jagged tears of crimson that bore stark contrast to the swirling gray that made up his dreamform. He could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, feel nothing but his lungs filling with thick black smoke. This was what he had been running from, what drove him every night to wake in a sweat.

He struggled to wake himself, to force himself back into the real world. The fire seemed to leap after him, licking at his wounds and nipping at his heels. A guttural scream was choked down by the smoke as he reached out desperately to find something to cling to.

The fire was relentless, sizzling against the mist around him and filling the edges of his vision. Frantically, he pressed himself harder, stumbling and crashing through the forest in a panic. Soon it proved too much for him, his body collapsing into the underbrush as his legs and feet tangled in the thick growth. Bruised and battered, he pulled himself against the trunk of a tree and turned to face the fire once more.

No longer an imposing wall, it had somehow collapsed into a form similar to his. Leaning forward, he could hear this hiss of its hand against his cheek and feel the warmth that rolled off it like a tide. Its head drew closer, pressing softly against his in a gentle motion, a kiss. Both lingered for a moment, on the precipice of greater meaning, before the fire figure drew slowly back and whispered one word:

Remember.

Thomas started awake on the couch. His clothes were drenched in sweat, the therapist hovering over him with two fingers pressed firmly against Tom's throat. At the stirring of his patient, he drew back with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks goodness. I ... I don't know what happened. One moment you were in a low trance and the next you began to thrash like a man possessed! Never in my years have I seen anything like that."

Thomas smacked his lips, his throat raw and dry as if the smoke has been real. He coughed once and tumbled from the couch onto his hands and knees. Everything felt like it was on fire. Every joint, every muscle felt as if they were burning to slag beneath his flesh. There was no pain, no anguish, just the steady growing sensation as if his blood were turning to lava.

He lifted his head, catching the gaze of the therapist. Something clicked in his memory; something distant and forgotten for a reason. Now it was coming back to him and he could no longer run. Strangely, he no longer wanted to run.

"I know you." Thomas spoke through the hoarse rasp of his battered throat.

"Of course you do. We've had sessions before."

"No." Thomas lifted himself to his feet. "I know you."

The therapist blinked, a knotted feeling of panic welling up in his stomach. Something had drastically changed in his patient and he was no longer sure if he was in control, or if he ever was in the first place.

Thomas' hands grasped the side of the therapist's face, forcing their gazes to converge. The older man's eyes widened as flickering oranges and reds danced in Thomas' iris, shifting and swirling of their own accord. Scintillating and undulating in steady rhythms as the heat seemed to pour from Thomas' hands.

Tom watched, half eager and confused, as the therapists' breathing began to slow, his pupils began to dilate and his body began to sag. The touch conferred more than simple physical contact. He could see now, buried deep within the human before him, something he once knew; something that knew him back.

His hands tensed, flexing as he felt his skin seem to crawl. The fire had filled him now, burned away the haze and the smoke. Now he would feel the world again as had been intended and he would find that which he lost, as he had long desired.

His grip slipped, letting the older human fall to the floor as his body began its rebirth. Watching, unable to look away or even more, the therapist saw flickers and gouts of flame blossoming around Thomas, scorching his clothes before flickering out in the surrounding air. Each one built on the one before, swirling around him and pulsing faster and faster. Soon, only glimpses of Thomas were visible between the fiery streaks, moments of contorted confusion and grimaces of pain.

Thomas, however, felt the changes only sporadically. His hands ballooned wide, thickening tendons rippling beneath his flesh with a mind of their own. Red, inflamed patches began to harden in a steady pattern, coating the backs of his hands in fine scales. Fingernails tapered and grew dark, glistening in the golden flashes of light with a wicked sharpness.

The fire suffused his being, rising and falling within each breath. The rise and fall pushed his chest further outward, thickening slabs of muscle forming under fresh, smooth scales. His shoulders spread, twisting and shuddering as his skeleton contorted to accommodate the larger mass. The feeling of strength, of power, was heady and intoxicating. Fire billowed from between freshly scaled lips as his once human face shifted into one befitting the reptile he was becoming.

Sights and scents sharpened as his newly slitted pupils flickered to adjust to the light. His lower half swiftly followed suit, pelvis shifting lower to accomidate a new center of gravity as a thick, powerful tail sprouted from the base of his spine. Thighs rippling with deadly speed were now completely covered in a dusting of scales and his feet splayed out broad across the singed carpeting with wicked, sickle-like claws arching from each toe.

The therapist choked on his words, transfixed as he watched the transformation progress. A weight rested on his mind, pinning his body to the floor until the newly formed beast leaned down to him.

"Now, it is your turn... love."

The scaled lips pressed firmly against his, powerful hands gripping his shoulders as the forked tongue explored his immobile mouth. He tried to pull away, to shift out of the creature's grasp, but every muscle seemed to tense when he tried to move until he could do no more than close his eyes as the beast's taste filled his senses.

Gently, the reptile's lips parted from his. "No love, you must see."

Against his will, the therapist's eyes flickered open once more. Now they met the brilliant amber gaze of the creature above him. They flickered with the fire that once swirled around him, that now filled his densely scaled hide. Dancing between colors, scintillating once more in the smooth, unblinking orbs, the human couldn't look away. He couldn't refuse as those warm smooth lips once again fell to his and he couldn't tear away as he beast lifted him in its embrace.

A calm began to settle over him as the warmth around him radiated through to his very core. Somehow, this was right; this was supposed to happen now. He felt himself arch upwards into the embrace, his body shivering from some unseen cold as he pressed himself closer. The beast responded favorably, claws trailing along the human's back and over his supple rump. The sensations served to lull the human into a sense of safety and a growing feeling of need.

Gently, the creature began to trace its claws in slow circles along the human's form. Tatters of cloth fell away from the human like leaves, settling in a pile beneath the two of them. Even with the cool air touching his now bared skin, the human did not shiver or shudder. He arched upwards, pressing needfully into the welcoming scales and their seemingly endless warmth.

"Yes, love. Give yourself over." The reptile spoke sibilantly, trailing its tongue down along the human's jaw line and delicately over the exposed flesh of his throat.

Shudders began to wrack the human's body in response; eyes rolling back before going slack within the beast's grasp. The shift in weight against the lizard's powerful arms drew a broad grin across its snout. Delicately laying the human on his side, the reptile slid in behind him, cupping the smaller body against its broad chest and shifting position to rest its scaled hips firmly against the human's exposed backside.

"Good." The scaled creature whispered, "you remember my touch don't you, love? You ache to feel it once more."

The human moaned softly in response.

"It has been so long my love. Trapped here not knowing you, not knowing myself." Delicately the ebony claws trailed over the human's bare flesh, eliciting another groan of desire. "Now, we will know each other again. I will claim you once more."

The human's head nodded slowly, eyes listing and lost in a haze.

Smoothly, the reptile rocked its hips against the human's backside. His need was great, an ache within and without his new form, and the now pliable human was eager to accept. Sheathing within the soft folds of his lover, the lizard hissed in ecstasy. The touch of flesh against flesh was a desire long held, and now to bring it to fulfillment was almost too much.

Steadily he drove against the human, diving deeper and deeper into his lover. The human returned each thrust, lost in the moment of passion and subsumed by his scaled lover's will. His body was now just an extension of his lover's pleasure and served to fill his need.

In turn, the thrusts became more ragged, short gouts of flame spurting from the panting reptile's snout. Its breath grew more and more ragged as it drove deeply within the human, claiming its new lover. With a final strangled cry, the beast filled the human to his limit and clutched tightly as both rode the wave of pleasure to its climax.

Now the human could feel something else within him, awoken by the scaled beast's gift. Whimpering within the binding's of his master's will, he felt his insides shift and contort around his master's length within him.

Birthed by fire and fueled by passion, the human's form was now to be reshaped. The beast rolled over, pressing the human against the floor beneath him, whispering into its lover's burning ears.

"You will be perfect, my love. I will claim you every night and wake you every day. Give yourself to me, submit completely to my will and I will make you whole."

"Yessss." The human stuttered, his tongue feeling thick and cumbersome in his mouth. He was the beast's to do with as it pleased and it would please him in turn.

A sharp and sudden thrust within the human signaled its acceptance of the answer.

The human felt the gift within him begin to spread, distending within his belly as tendrils of red-hot lava began to pump through his veins. However, fire could not control fire. Instead the heat grew low and steady, bubbling beneath the surface as it began to reshape the soft form around it.

Where the fiery beast above grew wiry and lithe, the human grew broad and strong. Thick slabs of muscle stretched the human's thin hide near to breaking. Dark, earthen scales sprouted in thick, chitious plates over the pink skin beneath. While the human once strained against his scaled lover, how he bore the weight with ease. Dull, rough claws grew from thin fingernails as the human's tiny pink hands spread into massive paws to bear his own weight easily.

The fire lizard licked its lips eagerly, shuddering as it felt its lover tightening around him. Claws raked across the impenetrable plates as they spread across his lover's back. Snarling, the lizard felt its own passions rekindled, bucking against its lover even as the changes spread steadily across his prone form.

Moaning gave way to a guttural hiss as the human's face shifted to better match his new master's. Short, broad and thick, the new snout parted to let his meaty tongue dangle past his lips as the renewed motions of the reptile above him began to stir his own passions once more.

Lifting a good foot more from the tattered and scorched carpet beneath, the last few vestiges of the human vanished beneath scale and muscle. Now an earthen toned beast of power, locked to the passions of fire above, the new reptile tensed around its master and groaned its own need.

Above, the fiery lizard was all too willing to bestow its gift once more. The two cried out in chorus as the master reached its peak once more. Still the passionate lizard rode the earthy beast beneath, making sure no part of its gift would be wasted.

Spent and sapped, the crimson reptile parted from its lover and drew itself to its feet. Stroking along the armored back, it spoke softly.

"Earth. That is how you will be known, as I am Fire." Its snout split into a grin, "long have I waited for this lover. There is still much to do."

Earth spoke slowly, achingly, as if stone ground against stone to give it voice. "What are your plans, master?"

"To waken the others, love. To bring us all together." He motioned for Earth to rise, dwarfed by the mass of muscle as it reached its full height. "For that we must find the other two. That is why I need you, my faithful love. To scent them out amongst the humans."

Turning to meet Earth's onyx eyes, Fire smiled slowly, "then we will be a family once more."