Festival Fiasco - Tumblr Posts

FEStival Fiasco

Prologue

Jonathan Matthews snapped a quick picture in his bathroom figure, making sure to inspect every last inch of himself. Even after all his years in his rather sedimentary lifestyle as an office worker for an insurance company, he managed to remain rather toned and fit for his age. However, the one thing time took away from him was his curly and unruly hair. Gone were the days of him just splashing water on it and letting it style itself.

“Maybe baldness is in this year,” Jon muttered to himself as he ran a few fingers across his plain dome. With the Culture Fest coming up the following morning, he wanted to look his best for the cute college girls and their mothers that would stop by the stalls and attractions. “This is your year, Jon,” he said, punctuating each word with a poke at his reflection. “No lonely Saturday night for this strapping bachelor!”

Jon was so focused on this bold and bald speech that he failed to notice the insect-like creature hanging on the ceiling just above him. Only when the creature made its move did Jon become aware of his fate. Before he could even let out a scream, the creature dropped on his face and immediately crawled towards Jon’s wide-open mouth. “MMF! MMMM!” All Jon could do was let out muffled cries as the creature suddenly filled his mouth and then sliding down his throat.

Jon fell on his back, his body convulsing as he felt a foreign invader make its way through his body and into his head. He arched his back, letting out a long and agonized moan, before falling flat on the ground, eyes closed. After a spasm or two, Jon finally opened his eyes, glancing around the room as if to take in all the sights. Slowly, he got back on his feet but nearly lost his balance a few times. It was as if he was learning—or relearning—how to walk on only two legs.

Clearing his throat, Jon said, “Okay, class. I hope that demonstration was good enough for a warm-up.” At his words, half a dozen other creatures, looking to be of the same species but smaller and of different coloration, crawled out of cover and blind spots throughout the bathroom. Some even crawled on his body, as if to appreciate Jon’s body now under the control of another being.

“Hehe, you younglings feel nice in a body such as this,” the creature inside of Jon said with a small, vain flex. It took the creature a few moments before snapping back to attention. “N-Never mind that! You all understand the rules, I hope? During this human festival, you will be tested in all the various traits that our societies’ greatest soldiers, Dreadfighters, must embody: stealth, infiltration, fearlessness, and versatility. And though you do not need to be the leader of the pack to pass your exam, the highest-scoring member of our class will earn an invitation to our Emperor’s coronation. This is your best way to earn our liege's graces and truly stand out as a potential soldier for our species. Are you ready?”

The class all chirped and clicked to show their understanding. “Well, get to it!” The creature barked. “The pipes, the windows, the various entrances that have been scouted out—use them all to their advantage. Go, cadets, and good luck. And, Zathina? I’m expecting great things from you.” Though there was no response, Jon’s body smirked as the star pupil was clear in the lead as the class set off.

However, one of the creatures was already scheming ways for his talents to shine. Get ready, Zathina, the being named Centaurus thought to himself. This is the day you’re dethroned.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 1

He Who Stands Amongst the Worms

Centaurus, from the day he hatched, had an intimate connection with the idea of hunger. During his youth, rarely did a day go by where he didn’t struggle to sleep due to the hunger pangs in his belly. Food was always scarce, and thus always tasted good. Only the vilest and expired garbage had no place in his stomach. What came out of that lonely and wretched life was a person that thrived in the Nebula Academy—the place where his body could feast on another.

As Centaurus crawled through the vents, his stomach began to growl. Already it was aching from the scent of chemicals that the human brain swam in. However, grabbing any host was a sure sign to immediately fail. The goals were clear-cut and set:

    Minimum three human hosts    

    Must not attract unneeded attention that requires intervention from the professor. Failure to do so will result in an automatic failure    

    At least one transfer between hosts must be in a crowded area. Stealth is key

Searching for a lone host throughout these apartments was the optimal way to start, and Centaurus didn’t doubt that his classmates were thinking the exact same way. All of them, he soon noticed, except for a certain member of his class. Sneaking through the vents, Centaurus caught sight of a man convulsing on his bed, the tail end of one of Centaurus’ classmates, Mizar, slipping through his mouth. While Centaurus watch, he heard the sounds of the shower running in the other room. Clever, thought Centaurus. While it didn’t fit the conventional use of “crowded,” the fact that another human stood just a few feet away fulfilled the requirement. But not clever enough. Sorry, Mizar, but it was a good attempt.

Though Centaurus was uncertain if taking the person in the shower would really count as crowded for him as well due to one of their own already inhabiting it, the opportunity that lay before him was far too sweet to pass up. He crawled through the events and made his way over to the apartment’s bathroom. Steam filled up the entire room as the inhabitant washed his body. Muscular and large—how Centaurus liked them.

Slithering through the bathroom, making sure to remain out of sight, Centaurus made his way to where the showerhead was located. To his relief, the man remained oblivious; far too invested in his song to notice. Only when the man reached a particularly high note, mouth open in a wide O, did he finally see Centaurus pounce.

“HURP!” A quick groan was all the man was able to let out as Centaurus began crawling into his mouth. Limbs flailed as he fell to his knees, then back onto the ground as water sprayed all over his convulsing body. Centaurus slipped right in, slithered to the man’s brain, and sunk his fangs onto the fleshy organ.

So good! Centaurus thought as he drank in all of the various chemicals that ran through his new host’s brain. Dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins all combined to form an intoxicating cocktail that always cured the hunger that plagued Centaurus’ daily life. But, he also knew that this wasn’t enough. The hunger would return, as it always did. It was a disease that plagued his mind just beneath the surface. Even on this mission, the one that would determine the rest of his future, his hunger remained a priority. Would it remain like this for the rest of his life? Would the scars that came from those early years follow him until his eventual death?

Forget about it, Centaurus told himself. Focus on what’s right ahead. The future remains on the horizon, so treat it like that. After a second to calm his nerves, he shifted and concentrated on the host’s nervous system.

In just a few moments, Centaurus saw out of the man’s eyes. Sensations welcomed him into this respite, and he welcomed them greatly. The way his body shifted as he stood on those unsteady, inefficient legs, the water that gently struck his chest and torso, and the smell of fresh soap coming from himself, was almost as addicting as the chemicals themselves. “I’m not just living, I am alive,” were the words Centaurus thought to himself as he took over his first host, and they remained true ever since.

Going through a quick skim of his host’s memories, Centaurus managed to gain his bearings on his situation. He was inside Ken Ackerman, and his lover Daniel McCree was taken over just a few feet away. If Mizar was inside of Ken, then that left Centaurus with a simple solution. He turned off the shower and quickly dried himself as much as he could. Then, throwing the towel on the floor, he strut out of the bathroom, dick already half-hard.

“Hey, Dan, how about throwing a small little culture festival of our own before heading out?” Centaurus called out as he emerged onto their shared bedroom. “Shower got me feeling hot and frisky.” He grinned as Mizar snapped his head up before quickly looking away. Was the mere sight of a naked man enough to make him flush?

“Oh, uh, a-are you sure about that, um… Ken?” said Mizar, pointedly staring down at the carpet. Even though he tried hiding it, as if ashamed, the erection was obvious.

Chuckling, Centaurus approached him with open arms, strutting the whole time. “Come, now! No need to be embarrassed. We’re men, we’re in love, nothing wrong with that!” He laughed, chest full of boisterous joy as he wrapped an arm around Mizar’s borrowed shoulders.

“Ah! Ah, I guess that’s true, um… yes, it is! We’re… in love...” Mizar said that word as though it was taboo before nodding to himself. His eyes seemed to finally gain a glint of confidence, Centaurus nodded. “Right! Well, uh, you start, then.” Ah, there it went. Now all that remained of Mizar was a timid wariness.

Is he serious? How’d he expect to pass if he’s this bad with connecting with his host and hiding amongst the crowd? Centaurus thought before spinning Mizar around and dragging him towards the bed. “Well, if you insist,” he said, “I don’t mind being the lead this time. But don’t corpse out on me, then.” Each word and lingo was so fun to say with his tongue. If he had a bit more time to himself, then Centaurus was ready to say every word in whatever book these humans used.

Mizar lied down on the bed as Centaurus spread his legs. “U-Um, wow, this feels so…”

“In-ti-mate?” Centaurus supplied, enjoying each slick movement of his tongue as he enunciated the word. “It always is, babe. C’mon, you’re not acting like yourself.” He grinned as Mizar immediately froze; his eyes betraying the panic that was happening inside. “Ha! Just messing with ya, babe! Now c’mon, let’s get started,” said Centaurus as he took out a bottle of lube from the nightstand next to the bed. “Promise I’ll be gentle, and treat ya just right...”

Mizar had always been the timid type. Even during the early days of studying, Centaurus identified him as a meek and weak individual. However, all of his previous assumptions were taken for a spin when Mizar won several combat and maneuverability competitions. Though difficult to connect with his host on the mental and emotional side, physically, very few students—such as Zathina—could compete with Mizar. “It must be the hormones,” he admitted to Centaurus during a private conversation. “I get so caught up in all these physical sensations and the chemicals involved in them, that I just sorta lost it, ehehe. It’s kind of embarrassing, really.”

And that was where Centaurus’ plan for overcoming Mizar’s talent lied.

“Oooo-OH FUCK!” Mizar cried out as Centaurus swallowed up his entire shaft. “Oh god, Ken, you—oh my god!” he said, arching his back and clutching the sheets at the sensation.

Luckily for Centaurus, Ken was truly experienced in this fine art. Making his partners beg for release in a cloud of ecstasy was Ken’s specialty. And for now, it was also a part of Centaurus’ skillset. He ran his tongue up and down before happily swallowing up the entire cock. Although he almost choked a few times, he managed to work Mizar into his first, intense orgasm.

“WH-WHAT THE FUUUUUCK! S-Something’s coming ouuuuut! AAAHHHHH!” Mizar screamed, confusion mixed in with the pleasure as he shot his load down Centaurus’ throat. “Oh god, oh my god,” said Mizar in between pants. He sat up on the bed, skin glistening with sweat, and said, “Can we do more?” with complete desperation.

Exactly as planned, Centaurus thought. “C’mon, baby, spread your legs. I got just what you need.”

Mizar did as told, nodding as Centaurus prepared himself. “Ohhhh, yes!” he moaned as Centaurus began with a lubed-up finger, then two, and finally most of his hand. “God, if this is what it feels, why aren’t we doing—NN, AAAH—all the time!” Mizar slammed his head onto the pillow, tongue hanging out as he arched his back again.

“Relax, relax,” said Centaurus, “lemme show you the main course,” he said as he slammed his cock into Mizar’s awaiting hole. To say that Mizar went over the moon would be an understatement. Had Centaurus not known about Mizar’s weakness for these physical sensations, he would’ve thought his classmate was having a seizure. Still, the neighbors might hear. To quiet Mizar down, Centaurus dove in and kissed Mizar. Their tongues played as Centaurus pounded Mizar. “God, you’re tight.”

Mizar only responded by gyrating his hips with a lewd smile.

Even though this was all part of Centaurus’ plan, he reasoned that there was no need for him to not enjoy himself. And, maybe when this was all over, he could invite Mizar for more sex with these humans. A vacation would follow the exams, and perhaps…

Centaurus’ thoughts were cut off as he let out a particularly loud moan and began to pick up speed. Their little game continued until, finally, Centaurus said, “I’m gonna cum…!

“Shoot, shoot it all inside of me!” begged Mizar. “Make me feel all full and warm!”

“I’M, I’M CUMMING!”

After what seemed like an hour of fucking, the two finally lied on the bed exhausted, sweaty, and satisfied.

“C’mon, another go,” whined Mizar.

Almost, satisfied.

Centaurus groaned. “Babe, c’mon… I’m exhausted. Let’s just relax and head down to the festival.”

“But...”

“I said no,” Centaurus snapped. He narrowed his eyes as he saw Mizar about to get up from the bed. “And y’know how serious I take monogamy, Dan,” he said, tone taking on a deadly edge. Mizar froze, and didn’t say anything. “You’re not planning on finding some dumb himbo and make him fuck you silly, are you? We promised we were the only ones for each other, remember?” Centaurus wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but knowing that Mizar didn’t have the best capacity to draw from his host’s memories, that didn’t matter. “If you cheat on me, it’s over. Got it?”

“Got it!” Mizar responded, his arm twitching for a salute that was a habit of the creature, not the host.

“Good,” Centaurus said sweetly. “Now come here. Let’s have a nice nap...”

Mizar agreed, with some reluctance on his part. Centaurus smiled as the two of them lied back down on the bed with very little noise in the air. Somehow, in that post-orgasm silence, Centaurus drifted back and forth from sleep as he purposefully snored. Only when he heard a few moans and then the scuttling of an insect-like creature did Centaurus finally relax. Mizar’s not gonna have a high grade if he goes around begging to be fucked in different bodies, so that’s one of his classmates taken care of.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Centaurus stood up and stretched. He flexed his body to its limits, moaning each time. “God, being in a body always feels so good. Always feel alive with ‘em.” He quickly got dressed and made his way out of the room. One opponent down, four more to go. With any luck, he won’t have to deal with the worst of them until he had the area mapped out.

“Are you not ashamed of yourself?” Centaurus froze as a chill went down his spine. Although the voice was unfamiliar to him, the inflection and sheer viciousness behind it were not.

Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Centaurus turned around and grinned at the devil that insisted on haunting him. Her host was a petite woman, but one that perfectly radiated the fearsome, ferocious aura that Zathina embodied. Every step, flick of her wrist, and word all belonged to the heir of the most elite of their species. Her kind was something to revere, fear, and steer clear of. No use being dirt on the clear and golden paths. Even just looking at her in an unfamiliar body, Centaurus felt an urge to bow and beg for forgiveness, but he held his ground.

“Well well, if it isn’t the princess of our class, Zathina herself!” he said, somehow managing to keep his tone jovial as his eyes skimmed through the hall, searching for an escape route. “Tell me, to what do I owe—“

“Shut up,” said Zathina, and the hall grew silent. It was as if the world itself bowed to the authority she was born into. Though her expression remained deadpan, Centaurus could feel the sheer disgust in her eyes. What Zathina felt at that moment, he was certain it wasn’t anger. It was truly as though she was looking at a cockroach that dared to be in her in presence and insult her sight through its existence. That was how the elite would look at those born in the dirt. “I heard, and witnessed, what you did to Mizar.” She narrowed her eyes, and Centaurus briefly looked away.

How pathetic, he thought, ashamed of himself.

“Is this how you get your sick kicks, worm?” said Zathina.

“Centaurus. I insist you call me by my name.”

“Your name is ‘worm’ as far as I’m concerned,” Zathina said and Centaurus remained silent. There was no room for debate with her. “Now then,” continued Zathina, “what do you have to say for yourself regarding your… unsavory tactics?”

Despite his fear, Centaurus still said, “It’s none of your business, is what I’d say.”

“Typical response,” said Zathina, rolling her eyes. As she ran her fingers down her new hair. Was she…? Before Centaurus could mull over it some more, Zathina spoke again. “It’s almost expected at this point. You’re becoming as boring as you are insufferable. But, I suppose you’re right. It is none of my business.”

“Then why—“

“Because it will be,” Zathina cut in, each of her words punctuated by an assertive step towards Centaurus. Instinctively, he backed away, nearly losing his footing at the tail end of his retreat. Just as he was about to regain his balance, Zathina shoved him with a lone flick of her wrist. With barely any effort on her end, Centaurus was down on the ground. Before he could even attempt to stand up, Zathina pressed her foot against his neck.

“No need for that,” said Zathina in a soft, gentle voice. “In fact, no need for any of your words, either. I don’t want to hear a single one of them.” As she spoke, she placed some of her weight onto her foot, and Centaurus gagged as oxygen became scarce. Zathina’s expression remained unchanging. “Now, worm, I hope my warning will remain with you for the rest of your life: Get in my way, and I will make you will suffer. This is my first and final warning. Blink once for ‘I understand,’ and struggle to die. Three, two...”

Centaurus blinked.

Zathina smiled. “I’m glad you understood,” she said as she slowly raised her leg. Centaurus took deep, labored breaths as he welcomed the rush of oxygen. He coughed and choked until Zathina brought her heel down onto his stomach.

“Hrrk! Hrrr…” Centaurus kept his mouth shut, only defiantly glaring at Zathina as she blinked in surprised.

“You didn’t scream. Impressive,” she said before stepping away from him. “You always seem to impress me in the most unexpected of ways, worm. Well, let’s make this the last time we see each other today. For your sake.”

“You...”

Zathina stomped on the floor, and Centaurus flinched. “Good. It seems I’ve trained you well,” she said, smirking with pure satisfaction. “Well, so long.” With a small and curt wave, Zathina walked away. Not even once did she turn back to see if Centaurus stood up and chased after her or not. To her, there was most likely no need.

“F-Fuck you,” Centaurus muttered, quiet enough that she wouldn’t hear. Zathina, as long as I live, I won’t let you win. I swear it.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 2

Part 1, Prologue

You’re Gonna Carry that Weight

Before the competition, the students were given time to research the cultures of the planet they would soon infiltrate. For Centaurus, what interested him the most was the cowboy. He had obsessively watched several spaghetti westerns and read many books detailing the rugged outlaws that prowled the western United States.

To Centaurus, the cowboy embodied freedom. He was a gallant legend that wandered the land, not caring about class or even order he dispensed justice wherever he went. He proudly carried himself with his smooth-talking ways and underhanded tricks that resonated so strongly with Centaurus. At least, that was the image that Centaurus had carved into his mind. I want to be like that. Not a worm, but a cowboy.

Now, staring a real-life cowboy at one of the food stalls in the early festival hours, he found himself unable to even utter a word.

“Uh, ya see somethin’ ya like?” The man said with a carefree grin. As soon as the cowboy spoke up, Centaurus jumped in his seat. He was still in Ken’s body, but the man’s memory and charisma completely failed. Even his own natural talent fizzled out.

“Um, yeah—no, wait, shit! Didn’t mean it like that,” said Centaurus, now pointedly looking away. He couldn't recall a time when he had gotten this flustered. What was happening to him? “Forget about it, all right?”

The stall owner arched an eyebrow at the two, but she didn’t say anything. She simply served their food with a polite nod.

Centaurus meant to walk away and crawl in a hole, but the cowboy stepped right in his way. Clad in a flannel shirt and a cowboy hat, he wore both his clothes and expression with unrivaled charisma. “Howdy,” he said, carefully enunciating the word.

“H-Hey...”

“C’mon! No need to be shy. Walk with me.” Seeing no reason to decline, Centaurus allowed himself to be guided around by this man straight out of his fantasies. “Name’s Austin,” he introduced himself. “Southern boy by birth and trade. You?”

“C-Cent,” was as far Centaurus said before clamming up again.

“Cent? Funny li’l name,” Austin said with a laugh. “Cute, tho. Like, rolls off the tongue real nice.” His tongue licked his lips just the slightest bit as he spoke. Centaurus nearly melted right then and there.

“So, what caught yer eye?” said Austin.

“Oh, uh, guess… how out there you are,” Centaurus said, mentally kicking himself as the conversation drew on. He had walked into this conversation flat-footed and tumbled in just about every exchange. His heart was racing, and his whole body burned with a desire he couldn't snuff out. “You’re eye-catching, is all I can say.”

Austin leaned in, grinning as he said, “Think I’m more than that to ya. Yer startin’ to pitch a tent, y’know,” with a wink. Centaurus grit his teeth, cursing under his breath as he looked down at himself. Austin continued, saying, “C’mon, let’s get ya somewhere more discreet ‘fore security kicks ya outta this place.”

Without waiting for a response, Austin took Centaurus’ hand and dragged him away from the festival. “Don’t worry, I ain’t roomin’ with any folks,” he said, head bopping back and forth as though he was humming a song to himself. “We’ll be private.”

“I-If you say so,” said Centaurus.

They arrived soon afterward. On occasion, Centaurus caught a few stares from the various guests that ate from the continental breakfast, but he didn’t worry about that. Now he was alone in the cowboy’s room. As he sat on the foot of the bed, he noticed that there was what he figured was the scent of the great southern frontier. Austin was here for merely a day, and already his scent had marked the room.

“It’s my candle,” said Austin, excitedly gesturing to a container with a candle decorated with a tiny, smiling cowboy inside. “Friend o’ mine gave it to me ‘fore I left. Said it’d keep the ranch in my heart,” he said. “Always a romantic, that girl, bless her heart. But still, always makes these sterile rooms feel a li’l bit more like home.” Home…

“How come you left?” said Centaurus.

“Yer a noisy one, ain’tcha?” Austin said, not dropping his smile. “Guess it felt like it was high time fer me to just...travel, y’know? Spent my whole life on the ranch. Felt like I had to break away ‘n’ find m’own path. Wanted to sorta find something. Myself, maybe. Headed to this town and chatted a friend up from my childhood. Planned on goin’ to the festival together, but he got hit hard with the flu. So I walked ‘round the place, lookin’ fer somethin’ to do.”

“And that’s when you picked me up?”

Austin chuckled. “Well, wouldn’t put it like that. ‘d rather call it sweepin’ ya off yer feet, my friend.”

“And you call your friend a romantic,” Centaurus said, tittering to himself. Uneasiness long forgotten, he continued to chat away and talk with Austin until the two of them fell back onto the bed together, slowly undressing. “I’ve never done this with a cowboy before, I gotta admit.”

“Well, I ain’t just a cowboy, Cent. I’m Austin.”

Yeah, Centaurus thought, you’re Austin. What lied before him was no longer a cowboy—a character he so fondly thought of. Instead, it was a man that found him, for whatever reason, charming. “Come here,” said Centaurus, lying down on top of Austin. He could hear his heart gently beating. You’re wonderful.

Centaurus, fully nude, spread his legs. Austin first started by teasing his hole with a finger, then his tongue. “Gonna do this right,” he said in-between his tongue teases. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Promise.” Centaurus just nodded, trembling with anticipation. His legs quivered with just the foreplay.

However, the teasing went on for far too long. His hole, initially tingling with pleasure, now felt played with and empty. “Oh, just fuck me already,” Centaurus moaned.

“Beg a li’l more,” Austin said.

“Please, Austin. Tear me in two already.”

“Nah, nah, that ain’t want I’m lookin’ fer.” Austin raised himself and lied on top of Centaurus’ chest with a smirk on his face. “Ask me for a lovin’. Something so sweet yer tight li’l ass will never forget.”

Swallowing, Centaurus said, “Make love to me, Austin. Make me forget about my fucking life,” and Austin complied.

Austin softly whispered, “Yer moans’re so hot,” and, “cry harder for me...” as he pounded Centaurus. “So cute, Cent,” he said before groaning in pleasure as well as he sped up.

Centaurus nearly fainted as he felt Austin fuck him. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, biting down on his knuckles. As soon as Austin said his name, he shut his eyes and allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy. There was no Ken, no competition, nothing except himself and this man who didn’t feel like a stranger anymore.

“God, fuck, yer so damn tight, Cent!” Austin cried out as he drew back and slammed into Centaurus with wild abandon. “Moan more fer me, c’mon!” he said, pumping Centaurus’ dick as he fucked him.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck! Sh-Shit, I’m cumming…!”

Austin took that opportunity to lean in and hungrily kiss Centaurus, who reciprocated. He drank in as much of Austin’s heavy pants and scent as he could. After so many times of hearing another name with a partner, it was nice to feel as though he didn’t have to pretend. He lied bare to this man who miraculously knew so little about him, and it was so liberating.

Centaurus’ midsection tightened, and then he came sticky ropes onto Austin’s chest. The two groaned into each other’s mouths as they came together.

“Maybe it’s just the high I got, but… I love yer company, Cent.”

In-between pants, Centaurus said, “I feel the same way, Austin,” and desperately wished he meant every word. He knew this had nothing to do with the mission or his desire to finally build his career, but he still wished this would last forever.

“What’s the matter, Cent? Yer lookin’ a bit down.”

“Not sure. I… I seriously don’t know.”

“Well, dunno if this makes ya feel any better but, I thought yer pretty nice company if I do say so myself,” said Austin with a small, charming smile.

However, Centaurus still thought about her. Zathina’s bitter and hateful expression remained in the back of his mind. He could still feel her shoe nearly crushing his windpipe. “You’re wasting time,” he imagined her saying with that sneer of hers. Alongside her sickening voice was the word worm over and over again like it was branded directly into his brain. “Indulging in these nonsensical things,” the voice continued, “you’re pathetic. Looks like the winner is clear. I suppose you truly are a worm after all.”

“Kiss me,” said Centaurus.

“Hmm?” Austin hummed, surprised at his sudden interruption.

Not waiting for an answer, Centaurus wrapped an arm around Austin’s neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. “Mmm, mmm!” Austin didn’t initially fight back until he felt something slipping in through his mouth.

Centaurus disconnected himself from Ken’s brain, leaving behind some toxic behind, and quickly slithered into Austin’s open, vulnerable mouth. Eventually, Austin pushed an unconscious Ken off, but it was already too late. The alien was already making its way through his mouth and into his brain. Austin tried to grab at the alien, but he failed to get a grasp. He fell back onto the bed and began to convulse as pleasure and fear overrode his entire body.

Switching host was always a dizzying experience for Centaurus. Not only because looking at his host body disoriented him with the raping changing of faces, but because there remained a little bit of himself in them.

“Wake up,” Centaurus commanded Ken. Wordlessly, Ken sat up in the bed. “Go home to your partner. Don’t even look at me.” Ken nodded and began to leave. “Put your clothes on first! Animal...”

For all members of his kind, the toxic vanishes from the host after about 20 minutes. Ken would be back to normal with little recollection of what he did. The experience that Ken went through would be forgotten. Same with Austin when Centaurus eventually left. Even if by some twist of fate they crossed paths again, Centaurus would be the only one left with that moment in his memories.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and saw no trace of the man that he shared that tender moment with. No matter how much Centaurus tried to laugh, frown, or even cry, he could no longer see Austin anymore. All that the mirror reflected was a worm pretending to be a man. He was alone.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 3 So Long, Space Cowboy

Alcor was an elite by name alone. Throughout the semester, he has failed to score higher than any of his classmates in all exams and assignments. Rumors flew about the academy of the first elite to flunk entirely, but Centaurus paid them, and Alcor, little mind. While Alcor’s haughty and elitist attitude certainly annoyed Centaurus, he did not face any physical or verbal threats from Alcor.

At most, Centaurus overheard Alcor say, "Bested by a female and worm of all things!" to himself when he believes no one could hear. If he did not go spend at least a few minutes every session of class saying, “I remember my father graduated with top honors at this academy,” and, “I believe I covered this subject with my private tutors,” he would’ve certainly faced the same scrutiny and violence that Zathina inflicted on Centaurus.

Because of that, Centaurus paid him no mind and Alcor did the same. Oddly, Centaurus got along best with Alcor, as there was never a day either of them ever fought or competed against each other.

Too good to speak to a worm? Centaurus idly thought as he strolled through the festival grounds. Stalls full of brightly-colored games such as ring toss and whack-a-mole gathered crowds while the scent of fatty, sweet, and salty snacks gathered their money. Centaurus smiled as he walked by and took in the sights of the people making memories with each other. Couldn’t hurt to indulge every once in a while, right?

He walked to a booth with just another player on the opposite side and paid to play a game. “So just gotta pop three balloons with these here darts?” he asked the booth’s owner, who nodded. “Gotcha, I’ll—“

“Unbelievable, this game is clearly rigged!” A haughty voice cut him off. The other player sneered at the booth’s owner—who now sported an exhausted look—and held his hand out. “Either you give me more darts to attempt this ridiculous game or you give me my money back, peasant.”

His vernacular was certainly similar to Alcor’s, but Centaurus remained silent to allow more slips of the tongue.

"Sir, this is your second warning," the booth owner replied with a monotone voice. "Another outburst like that and I’ll have to call security on you. You lost fair and square, and, frankly, I have no clue how to rig this game against you.” She glanced back and forth between the darts in Centaurus’ hand and the balloon on the opposite wall with a dumbfounded expression. “Seriously, none. The problem is your aim.”

“How dare you?” the haughty man said, teeth gritted at the poor girl. “My position is certainly above yours, peasant.” The booth owner narrowed her eyes, and Centaurus could tell she was ready to start beating the sucker to the ground.

“Now now, no need to have that kinda attitude," Centaurus cut in, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. It wasn't as if he had wanted to perform an altruistic task for the poor booth owner, but he did want to satiate his curiosity. “Hold on there, partner. Let’s try ‘n’ take it one step at a time. Now, the name’s Austin. Yours?”

“Hmph! Well, it’s rude to decline another’s request for your name after they offer their own. Fine, then. You may call me Milo. Milo Palmer. And you?” Milo cocked an eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “You… you dress very peculiarly.”

How often did a person, regardless of how sheltered they were, not recognize a cowboy? Not just that, but the attitude was familiar to Centaurus. All of it screamed ‘Mizar.’ However, Centaurus decided to play along. “I’m a cowboy, partner.”

“I’m not your partner.”

“And I wanna propose a li’l wager for ya.”

Centaurus internally grinned as he saw the glint in Milo’s eyes at the word. Mizar or not, it was clear that the one in front of him highly valued competition. “What sort of wager are you walking about, cowboy?”

“Austin. And we play a few rounds over here. If I win, we leave the booth peacefully. You win, then you can say that you’re certainly much better than these ‘plebians,’ as I’m assuming yer ‘bout to start callin’ them.”

Milo shook his head. “No no, I demand a much better reward than that.” With a smug, high-born smirk, Milo said, “Become my slave for the rest of the festival, and then I’ll agree to your terms, cowman.”

“Cowboy,” Centaurus said, rolling his eyes. “Well, don’t mind ‘em terms. I ain’t afraid of losin’.” Passing the booth owner, who now had gratitude in her eyes, some dollars, Centaurus asked for two sets of darts.

“Let’s rock.”

“Let us duel.”

To Centaurus’ relief, Austin was particularly talented in darts. Years of playing drunk and just barely avoiding poking someone’s eye out helped out quite a bit in this bet. In just a few minutes, all of his balloons were nothing but scraps of plastic on the ground while Milo failed to hit a single one. “Well, that prove it t’ya?”

At first, Milo didn’t say anything. He simply stared down at the ground, hands trembling. While the booth owner threw out an excuse to temporarily leave, Centaurus lightly tapped Milo’s shoulder. “D-Don’t touch me, cowman!” he shouted as he jumped back. “Don’t think you’ve beaten me simply because this game is fixed.”

With a bemused click of his tongue, Centaurus smirked and said, “So y’ain’t bad, the game is?”

“Well… the way I said it is certainly much more eloquent, but the general idea is certainly there." Thankfully, Milo chuckled at that. "But! I cannot allow this stain on my honor to continue. Please, let us continue with more duels at this festival. Surely I will be able to best you at all the others."

Again, Centaurus laughed. “If ya wanna keep playin’, just say so, Milo-man. I don’t mind.” By now, he didn’t doubt that it was indeed Alcor before him. The attitude and lack of social cues that only an elite with a silver spoon up his ass certainly fit. However, while being someone else, this was the first time Centaurus had ever had a decent conversation with him. “C’mon, let’s see what else we can play.” Once they were done fooling around, he was certain he could pull off the same trick as Mizar and eliminate him from the competition.

However, several games in, Centaurus found himself lost in the joy of the festival. “Watch this shit!” he cried out as he raised the mallet and slammed it onto the target. The bell rang, signaling his strength. “Hell yeah!” Making sure that Alcor was watching, he flexed both of his biceps. Alcor sneered.

Later on, during a large jigsaw event, Centaurus gritted his teeth as he tried to form the picture in his head. For whatever reason, Austin was just particularly challenged in putting the oversized puzzle pieces together. The colors and shapes just didn’t seem to match. That was one of the pitfalls of the way Centaurus took over hosts. Strengths and weaknesses all carried over to him. However, once he finally put it all together, he rose from his seat proclaiming, “Done!”

“Finally,” Alcor said, clutching two different prizes with a self-satisfied smirk. “I have my own areas of expertise, I’ll have you know,” said Alcor. For the first time since Centaurus had met the guy, Alcor truly did deserve that arrogant air. By the time they had finished most of the booths in the area, they were tied in wins.

“Goddamn. Yer a tough nut to crack,” said Centaurus while the two rested at a bench. For all their running around and eagerness to show off, the men now sat down, panting heavily as the summer heat bore down on them.

“And—ha—you—haaa—are certainly no mere cowman either,” said Alcor in between his heavy pants as well. “I have to admit, I sincerely thought that his whole festival was full of nonsense and clowns earlier, but now...”

“Now…?”

Chuckling, Alcor finished with, “Now I know it also has handsome yet foolish cowmen as well.” While Centaurus pouted, he added, “I had fun. Thanks, Austin.”

“Can’t deny it. I had a fun time too.”

They stared ahead in a comfortable silence—just gazing at the people passing by. The day was far from over, but Centaurus felt more tired than he ever had on this planet. However, it was a satisfying exhaustion. Like he had accomplished far more than his goal. “Hey—“

“Do you mind if we go to that booth next?” Alcor cut in, pointing ahead. Centaurus followed his finger and saw a cartoonist drawing exaggerated portraits of people. “I would like to see his rendition of you.”

Shrugging, Centaurus said, “Sure.”

After about 20 minutes, Alcor glared down at the drawing. The inking and proportions were certainly ridiculous, but Centaurus truly knew nothing about art. Austin knew even less. However, from Alcor’s reaction, Centaurus was honestly starting to believe that something was off about the illustration. “Hmm...” Alcor hummed, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Yes, there is,” snapped Alcor. “Follow me.” The whole walk Centaurus continued to prod and pester to understand what the hell Alcor’s problem was, but no dice. Only once they arrived at a nice, flat table did Alcor finally explain. “The drawing is inadequate.”

“Whu-?”

"Sit. Let me draw you." Producing a pencil from who-knows-where, Alcor began to doodle. Centaurus, not having a reason to deny the request, obliged. The two shared a few words, but Centaurus mainly focused on keeping still. He wasn't sure what he would gain from indulging in Alcor like this, but he did wish to satiate his curiosity. What exactly was he planning…? Unlike Centaurus, Alcor and the rest of his classmates rarely opened up to their host's mind as he did. They shouldn't have access to many skills or talents, and certainly nothing as delicate as art. Was Alcor simply like this?

After a while, Alcor finally announced, “Finished. Here you go, cowman. Tell me what you think.”

There was no arrogance in Alcor’s voice, and no lack of talent in his drawing, either. Centaurus stared at the man—at Austin—in silent awe. A lump of guilt built up in his throat and his eyes grew moist. Austin’s kind yet cocky smile, his warm eyes, and his powerful physique all translated well into the sheet he held in his hands. “Yer… somethin’ else… This is amazin’.”

“I appreciate it, Austin,” said Alcor. “I’ve wanted to be an artist since… since I can remember.” His voice was far away, as if he was caught in a dream. “The aesthetic, the beauty of the world… I’ve always loved it all. I worked hard, in secret. But that dream will remain unfulfilled.”

“Why? Ya got the talent, the skill. Ya got the drive, dontcha?”

“That’s not what I meant, cowman.” Alcor rolled his eyes. “It is not as simple as becoming an artist simply because I wish to. I have… responsibilities. I am an elite, remember?”

“With how often you repeated it, how could I forget?”

Coughing to hide the embarrassment, Alcor continued. “Because of my status, my family expects great things from me. Extremely great things, but I do not.” He furrowed his brow before frowning in thought. “No, my apologies. Allow me to rephrase that. My family expects me to obtain a certain position after graduating from my academy with flying colors, but if I’m being honest, such a thing disgusts me," he said, wrinkling his nose. "In the end, as the firstborn male, I am nothing more than a puppet for the position, just as my friend had become."

“Yer friend?”

Alcor sighed, smiling almost nostalgically as he spoke about his past. “She was a delicate flower. Gentle, kind, intelligent. We often played together when we were young. But, that never lasted. We became separated after a while. Recently, at the academy, I met her again, but she was completely different.” Lips curled up in a tight frown, stared up at the sky with a frustrated groan. “She barely even acknowledges my presence. It’s as though she became a completely different person. When I tried to ask her about that...” Fear appeared in his eyes, “she threatened me with physical violence. And there was clear power behind it as well. Nothing at all like the gentle flower I once knew.

Centaurus let out a grunt to indicate he was listening. The girl from Alcor’s past seemed like the exact opposite of Zathina, but there was no doubt that they were the same person. More surprising was how little shock Centaurus actually experienced. It made sense for a female elite to begin her life with little knowledge of violence or the drive to be a soldier, but then what changed? What caused Zathina to become like this?

“If I continue the path I am on, then my freedom will be stripped away from me,” continued Alcor. “Of course,” he added with a chuckle, “that’s ignoring the fact that I’m absolutely not fit for the position my family wants from me in the first place.” Centaurus did not join in. Instead, he gripped Alcor’s hand and squeezed it to both of their surprises.

“A-Ah...” Voice cracking for just the tiniest moment, Alcor said, “I appreciate you not laughing, and for listening. To be honest, this is the first time I’ve said any of this out loud.”

“Yer lookin’ a li’l bit more relaxed. Shoulders less stiff. Stick must’ve fallen outta yer ass when ya started talkin’.”

“Ha ha,” Alcor rolled his eyes and playfully slapped Centaurus’ arm with his free hand. “Shut up, cowman. Let me be as melodramatic as I wish to be.”

“So yer gonna run away? How?”

“I am not sure yet, but I am determined to try. Even if I am taken away and executed, I still want to try.” Alcor said those words, but he didn’t hide the way his hands trembled. “I want to find a way to draw the universe’s beauty. If I can’t draw and paint, then I might as well not even be alive.”

Centaurus looked back at the drawing Alcor made of them. There was an undeniable amount of skill demonstrated in such short time. A familiar emotion welled up inside of him. Envy. Once more, Centaurus was drowning in envy. Not just for Alcor's skill, but also the path he wanted to choose for himself.

However, as much as Centaurus wished to scream and shout, he found himself unable to. It should have been easy, to crush Alcor's dream by seducing him in such a way as to gain an advantage, but Centaurus wasn’t able to do anything. Thousands of scenarios played in his head, and all of them ended in his favor.

However, Centaurus instead said, “I’ll help you.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll help ya escape this hellhole of a future yer in,” Centaurus proclaimed. He extended his hand out for Alcor to shake. “To be honest, it'd be a shame if a skill like yours remains unfulfilled. And also, it’s the least he could do fer a dear friend.”

“Dear friend?” Alcor asked, raising an eyebrow. “You hardly know me.”

Centaurus shrugged. “What can I say? Kindred spirits, I guess,” he said, grinning at his very first friend. Though Alcor truly had no idea, Centaurus knew, and that was all that mattered. "Listen, lemme tell ya the plan." He leaned over and whispered a hazardous mess hastily cobbled together, but it was all Centaurus could do on such short notice and a person he needed to protect. Overall, it wasn't very complicated, but so much hinged on everything going exactly right.

It was a gamble, but Centaurus figured that, as long as he was in Austin’s body, he didn’t mind becoming the cowboy that rode off into the sunset with his ally just like in the films. Now all he had to do was avoiding perishing before his plan began.

“Yer a cutie,” Centaurus whispered to the man, licking off the last remains of cum. The man shivered in pleasure. “C’mon, let me give ya a taste of yer own milk.” Eager for more, the man swiftly dove into a kiss only to get a mouthful of alien. While Austin’s body remained crouched on the bathroom floor, the other man fell back. He struck the stall’s wall as his body convulsed and soon lost control of his body.

Centaurus shook the exhaustion away. "All right, one more," he said to his former body. His heart ached as he looked down at Austin again. The memories of his kindness nearly caused him to choke, but Centaurus swallowed down the guilt. There were more important things in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said to Austin.

The two left the stall just in time to see another man exit the stall next door. Time was limited, so Centaurus and the mind-controlled Austin quickly jumped the man, covering his mouth to prevent him from screaming.

Austin and three bodies. That was the minimum that Centaurus would have to work before the chaos began. Not needing to fully dive and dissect the memories of the two men, Centaurus slithered back into Austin and began to put his plan into action.

While he worked to grab Austin’s motorcycle and park it on the outskirts of the festival, his two victims would set off the pieces. The three of them left at different times to not arouse suspicion. All of this just to fool their professor and their classmates.

At the very epicenter of both the festival and the crowd, Centaurus kept an eye out. It had only been a few minutes, so the venom’s effect should hold. Once a voice shouted, “What the fuck, man?!” he grinned and turned to walk away. Another rang out, saying, "I'll teach you to disobey me, worm!" with a tone that sounded just like Zathina. Might as well throw some bait in her general direction.

A few yells went out as a brawl began. With any luck, a small riot should snowball from the two bodies engaging in a fistfight. Through his peripheral vision, Centaurus saw numerous folk turn their heads to stare at the spectacle that unfolded before them.

Perfect, he thought. All Alcor needed was a spectacle to last for a few minutes. Of course, another body would make the situation ideal if Centaurus’ instincts were right.

There was a man on his own near the outskirts of the festival grounds. He stood on his toes as he tried to get a closer look at whatever the attendants were crowding around. Suspecting nothing, he approached Centaurus and asked, “Hey man, what’s going on over there?”

“Hmm? Oh, well… lemme show ya real quick," Centaurus grinned at the man. "C'mere. Don't wanna say it too loudly." Brow furrowed, the man hesitated before leaning in slightly. That was all Centaurus needed. Already, venom spread throughout Austin's system, mixing into the spinal fluid. He opened Austin's mouth and shot into the other's man's mouth as Austin held him close.

“HMPH! MMMPH!” Centaurus’ body strangled any of the man’s startled cries. He quickly slithered through the man and bit down on his brain. The man convulsed as he struggled to vomit the bug out but remained in place as Austin put him into a tight embrace.

“Calm down, li’l fella,” Austin whispered as the Centaurus took control. “I gotcha.”

Once the man’s limbs and core warmed under Centaurus’ influence, he nearly fell over. “F-Fuck, the fuck...” he gasped. A cold and hollow sensation spread washed over his new body. He could still feel the man’s body under his control, but alongside it was something completely foreign.

“Y’okay?”

“N-No, but that doesn’t matter right now,” Centaurus replied. “Can barely walk… y’know where to leave me.” Austin nodded and half-carried half-dragged Centaurus alongside him.

As Centaurus allowed himself to be carried, the sounds of police sirens echoed in the air. Security got involved and now the police were here to arrest those caught up in his little distraction. Despite the nausea that threatened to make him vomit, Centaurus couldn’t help but grin at how successful his plan was. The sirens would help mask the sound of Austin’s motorcycle run down the street.

“Tell me something, Austin,” said Centaurus. Was he feverish or just plainly ill? He couldn’t tell anymore. A numbing feeling spread throughout his borrowed body. He could no longer feel his fingertips. “I’m doing something good, aren’t I?”

“I think so.”

“Do you really?”

“Dunno. You tell me. I’m fully under yer control.”

“When’d you get so sassy?”

Austin shrugged. “Hard to say, maybe the venom’s startin’ to run its course. Still, what yer doin’… it ain’t wrong, but yer not doin’ it just cause you felt sorry for this friend o’ yours.”

Centaurus glared at the ground but didn’t respond.

“Not gonna go with him?” Austin asked. “Ya really wanna, dontcha? Leave everythin’ behind and run. Like the cowboys ‘n ‘em westerns ya love.”

Every bit of Centaurus wanted to shout, “Of course I will!” However, he remained silent. No matter how much his heart wished to cry out for the world to hear, he silenced himself and simply thought his plans over. After Alcor and Mizar, he would need to take down Arcturus, Merak, and Zathina will be last. Then, Centaurus could finally win. Victory was just a few hours away.

Centaurus vomited as Austin set him down. Centaurus now rested against a building housing more bathrooms for the festival-goers. Around the corner was the parking lot where Austin's motorcycle was already in place. Centaurus didn't doubt that Alcor had already arrived. “G-Get in position,” he said, gagging at the taste. “Y’know he’s waiting for you. Get.”

Austin hesitated for only a moment before nodding. The little venom Centaurus could afford to inject into him was no doubt at its limit. However, it only needed to last for another few seconds; but it would only be worth it if his gamble paid off. As Austin disappeared from view, Centaurus leaned back and shut his eyes. The numbness was deeply uncomfortable but soothing at the same time. Perhaps if he gave it his best shot, he could simply pretend as though he was merely floating through space on a ship.

“Such a dumbass,” Centaurus whispered to himself. “Wasting so much venom… 4 hosts in just ten minutes? Stupid dumbass...”

Austin’s cries were loud enough that Centaurus could hear them from so far away. However, he smiled. Alcor was so unsubtle and so unfit to be a Dreadfighter. It only furthered Centaurus’ resolve that what he was doing was right.

Then why the hell do I feel so shitty?

The roar of a motorcycle soon echoed down the road. Centaurus couldn’t see it. Even as he opened his eyes, he found his vision impaired. The world was nothing but blotches and mystifying shapes that all blended together. As expected, the sirens helped mask it. To the festival-goers who stood by the violence and police, it might as well have been a kitten’s purr.

“There you go, Alcor,” said Centaurus to nobody but himself. “Follow that dream of yours. Don’t look back at this worm...”

Austin—or was it Centaurus himself?—completely read him. The desire to run, to ride off into the sunset with his friend in tow, was tempting beyond belief. However, Centaurus knew that he could never do anything like that.

“All this worm can do is look upwards, Alcor,” he continued to chide himself. “I don’t… I don’t have anything inside of myself. No talent, no skill… I don’t have anything but this dream.” Without the idea of becoming a Dreadfighter, without that hunger for a better life, there would be nothing to define Centaurus. A dream or an obsession? Centaurus wasn’t sure at this point, but it was all he had left. No family, no money, and no other future. “Guess she was always right. Well, I knew she was right, I always knew… but just...”

Just once Centaurus wanted to forget that he was a worm. Just once Centaurus wanted that person to pretend alongside him that he could achieve something.

“Why can’t I have something?”

“My my, you’re in a real rough spot.”

A shadow washed over the mess of light and color that made up Centaurus' vision. Just by the sound of the voice, Centaurus felt a pang of annoyance.

“Come on, Centaurus! Lemme fix you up! Maybe even let me take a look inside of you. Hehe…! Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stitch you up. It’ll just hurt a liiiiitle bit. By the way, anesthesia's out of the question. Ahaha!”

With the last of his strength, Centaurus said one thing:

"So long, Space Cowboy," he said, wishing only the best for his one and only friend.

FEStival Fiasco

Mizar Interlude

The joys of physical touch fascinated Mizar so. With every lover and climax, he felt more and more inclined to remain in this blue rock for the rest of his life just having his prostate ridden.

Luckily for him, Mizar found himself in a stuffy office full of men who desperately needed someone to relieve stress with. After a few winks and thirsty looks, Mizar had his next plaything on lock.

“Ngh! C’mon, harder!” he begged at this handsome stranger in a suit. They were in an unused meeting room that, according to his host’s coworker, would not be used for another hour. Mizar was on his back, completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, as his partner fucked him with just his slacks down. By now, he was far from festival grounds by highjacking bodies and hopping on dicks. This would just be another ride he could take advantage of.

“Holy shit, John!" The businessman, whatever his name was, exclaimed as he continued pounding Mizar. "You always seemed so uptight! Who knew you were such a cockslut," the man said with a chuckle as he picked up the pace. "And such a tight ass. Holy hell, it's like it's sucking me in."

“Ahhh,” Mizar moaned, arching his back while trying to meet John’s coworker with equal vigor.  He truly had no idea what his host’s name was or even his position in the company, but none of that mattered compared to the burning desire for carnal pleasure. “K-Keep it up. C’mon, fuck me hard! Make me forget even my own name!” Mizar shouted, repeating phrases from previous partners. When in Rome, as one of them had said when he first came to them with an erection that wouldn’t go down and a crazed need to bottom. Or was it, any hole’s a good one?

All of the thoughts instantly vanished from Mizar as his partner delivered another powerful thrust. "Ngh! F-FUCK!" Not nearly satisfied enough, Mizar wrapped his legs around his coworker's torso and pull him even deeper into himself. "Paint my insides white! Tear me in half like—OOOH—LIKE A COCK WHORE!"

“Here it comes!” Mizar’s lover cried out, balancing on his toes to push even deeper as he came. Mizar grinned as he felt each shot fill him up with warm semen. Soon after, as his lover’s climax dribbled away, he reached his own peak as well. Load after load fell onto Mizar’s borrowed, sweaty torso, and he enjoyed rubbing it all over himself. He wasn’t sure if it was his possession that caused such tremors of ecstasy with all of his hosts, but he was far and beyond the point of caring. For Mizar, his life would be peaks and valleys of time when he was seeking his new high. “Come hereeee...” he whispered, tongue sticking out as he grabbed his lover by the tie and pulled him close.

Another peak, another valley. Now was the time to find another experience. Without delay, Mizar jumped from John and into his new ride. Although the businessman struggled and tried to push Mizar away, he could not stop the alien sliding in through his mouth and traveling up to his brain. "NGH! MM! Oh—oh god!" The man groaned, collapsing on top of John's drooling and unconscious body as Mizar bit down on his brain. After some small convulsions and a few waves of pleasure, Mizar stood up and admired his new husk. The hard-on that threatened to no longer fit in his slacks and jock-strap fascinated Mizar the most.

“Let’s go,” Mizar said to himself, not even bothering to figure out more about this man or how to lay low. All that mattered to him was finding his next peak.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 4

She was born an Elite. Female or not, she was destined for greatness. It was because of that privilege that Zathina knew the consequences should she fail in her mission.

With a sway of her hips and a few sensual looks, the male was completely under her spell. After that, all that Zathina needed to do was stand by and let the man drag her to his little den for a rendezvous. After what was little but a “pump and dump,” as she heard the man’s friends joke about while she was flirting with him, Zathina took her chance.

The man bit his lower lip, a ridiculous and toothy grin on his face as he dropped his boxers and climbed on top of the female body Zathina was inhabiting. He leaned down to kiss her, to explore her mouth. In that instance, Zathina swiftly flipped him over and held him in a chokehold. The shock on his face lasted only an instance, but she still savored it. Now that he was in her grasp, she easily slithered into his mouth.

“Hrgh...! Urrghh...ohhhhh...”

Sighing, Zathina stood up from the couch, breathing heavily as she relaxed her suddenly sore muscles.

A quick and effective transfer was all it took for her to now be in the body of a rugged male, not unlike her classmates.

While Zathina would have preferred to succeed in the body of a female to prove a point, taking even the slightest risk of a disadvantage was a fool’s choice. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of strong and powerful women. It was only through her own skill and talent that she was able to make warriors out of this species. “It’s a festival,” she reminded herself as she strolled through the grounds. “Not an army.”

On the battlefield and in covert operations, the luxury of choosing a preferred host would not be there. As a promising soldier, Zathina would not make the mistake of expecting it so. Instead, she kept a close eye on more powerful hosts while remaining observant of the competition. If anyone tried to sabotage her chances, she would strike back with greater force. The professor would approve.

Goosebumps appeared on her host’s skin. One of her own was close. While failures such as that worm could not recognize the slight shift in the air when another was nearby, Zathina was different. Picking her classmate from the crowd wasn’t difficult. One only needed to keep an eye on the crowd to see whoever stood out.

Her eyes locked with another man’s--and he smirked at her. She could only think of one who would hold such a shit-eating grin. “Arcturus...” she whispered. She split off from the crowd and walked towards the edge of the festival grounds, and Arcturus followed.

2nd in the class, just barely above the worm. He was Zathina’s only real competition in a hypothetical even and fair competition. However, in anything except their assignments, she paid him no mind. His ego was about as large as Alcor’s, and he had only half of Zathina’s skill and talent to back it up. She was aware of the sheer anger at holding second place for once in his life, but she didn’t care. A loser was a loser; status be damned.

Once the two were far enough from the festivals that it was but white noise in the wind, Zathina leaned against a nearby tree and addressed Arcturus. “I was expecting a sneak attack,” she said, turning her cool gaze towards his still-smirking face. The beads of sweat that trailed down his forehead betrayed his easy-going visage. “You were never able to beat me in any sparring match.”

The smile became forced as wrinkles from stress and age began to show. “Is a ‘Hello, Arcturus,’ too good for our number 1 in class~?” he said, always trailing off his sentences with what he must believe was the flair befitting of an Elite. Zathina always had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “Silver tongue’d as always. I must say, it truly is wonderful to finally have a chance to converse with you after out last exam. I’m not used to being second place for...” he kept the smile up, but his fists trembled with anger as he uttered,” for as long as I have been attending this academy.”

“Is it the first time you’ve met your superior?”

“An equal? Yes, it must be,” chuckled Arcturus. “A female one at that~!” he exclaimed, as though the very idea was enough to signal the end times. “And on top of that, you’ve blatantly disrespect me by declining invitations to my dinner parties every. Single. Time.” 

Scoffing, Zathina said, “We’re warriors. Soldiers. Playing at parties and other frivolous nonsense just distracts us from our duties.”

“My my, what would your father say about this?” When Zathina’s eyes widened, Arcturus chuckled. “Oh, did I hit a nerve~? This must be the first time I’ve gotten any kind of rise out of you.” Snickering, Arcturus paced around the greenery as he spoke, like he was giving a speech. “What must the old general think, seeing his precious little girl act in such an unbecoming way for her role in society.” His tittering turned into a full-on belly laugh as Zathina’s expression shifted into one of pure hatred. “Oh...! Oh my... you say that I’m playing, but here you are acting as if you can carry out your father and brother’s wills.”

“Did Alcor tell you this?” said Zathina through gritted teeth.

“That scum?” Arcturus said with a sneer. “No. I had to do a little digging on my own, but what fascinating little details I’ve found. When I first heard about you, I was surprised that there was an Elite I hadn’t met. Now I know why.” With a year’s worth of undue resentment, Arcturus hissed, “A disgrace worm like you should just crawl on the ground and die like the filthy deviant you are. Not even your own mother loved you enough to remain by your side.”

Zathina didn’t rush at him. To do so would mean turning her back and spitting on the dignified way of her family and the remaining honor she had as an Elite. However, to slug the tree next to her with as much force as she could muster up and have it tumble toward Arcturus’ general direction wasn’t unbecoming of a warrior. The little satisfaction she got from his panicked fleeing wasn’t much of a victory, but it was all she could take from now.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight of his words deep inside of her heart. Scars long-thought to have healed re-opened, but she refused to cry and scream as she did all those years ago. Zathina would no longer be weak. She had promised her late family that much.

With a sigh, she returned to the festival ground and continued her work on the assignment. Time was running short, and she needed to ensure her victory. Elite or worm, nothing would stand in her way.

Festival Fiasco

Part 5

Ever since his birth, the fateful worm had known nothing but darkness. Most of his days were spent in shrew-like bodies and digging tunnels for the foundation of their society. His job, like many others before him, was to search for precious metals in abused and dangerous mines. Several of his fellow worms passed away due to collapsing tunnels or pockets of earth full of poisonous air.

“We are many,” a worm twice his age told to him, “and we are weak. Disposable. Worms in the dirt that the Elite walk on. We matter as much as the rock we mine, and so we are in these caverns.” Not too long after passing on that wisdom, the older worm perished in a cave-in. The fateful worm was no surprised, as so many of their kind died everyday that learning names was far too tiring. It was better to have nothing than to constantly lose someone every day.

Then, on a fateful day, the worm overheard two passing Elites. “Centaurus,” one of them said, chuckling as he uttered that name, “is what those humans call one of our suns. Our sacred stars that lie above even Elites! Can you believe they have the audacity to even try to christen it with a name? Absurd.” The two walked away, laughing at the new species.

From then on, a small fire burned in that fateful worm’s heart. It was a completely foreign feeling, but he loved it. “Centaurus,” he said to himself as best he could, each syllable eliciting joy in his heart. “Centaurus, Centaurus. Cen-tau-rus…!” As he repeated that word to himself in the coming days, his gaze turned upwards, focusing above the dark rock ceiling he had always known. The next few months were spent digging his own personal tunnel, barely managing to hide his progress from the managers who watched his progress. It was difficult to dig through the dirt and stone upwards, but the name gave him hope and strength that he had never known before.

Finally, Centaurus emerged from the earth. He pushed through the final layer of dirt and emerged onto the surface. The air tasted fresh and untouched by dust. His panted heavily, enjoying each new sensation as he trekked through the alien world—his own home. The sky was grey and a light breeze coursed through barren field he wandered. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, he saw the first few rays. In the horizon, the sun began to rise.

“Heyyyyy~! Ya gonna wake up or am I gonna have to throttle ya, Centy?” Centaurus’ slowly opened his eyes, hands curled up in irritation as the annoying voice bounced off the walls. “There you are! About time. You sure like to keep everyone waiting, huh?”

“…Phecda.” Centaurus blinked to refocus his vision. Before him was an older man wearing a doctor’s coat, a stethoscope, and nothing else. He strutted over, balancing shifting from the balls of each foot.

“You never talk to any of us,” he began, pacing along the walls of the room, gaze wandering all over the white walls. “Yet, you remember each of our names so well! Your behavior is always so interesting, Centy~! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

With a grunt of effort, Centaurus swung his legs over and tried to leap at Phecda. However, the moment he launched himself off the bed and his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell to the floor. “The hell…?!”

“You. Are. Exhausted,” said Phecda, leaning over Centaurus, their faces just a few inches away from each other. “Absolutely washed up. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.” Phecda hopped back as Centaurus swung a slow and sluggish fist at him. “You can barely even fight. It’s honestly a shame to see you like this.” For a moment, Phecda’s fac fell before his expression lit up with his usual disgusting cheer. “I wonder what Zathina would say if she saw you. Or dear ol’ Arti. He’d get a real chuckle out of this,” he said, giggling as Centaurus leaned against the bed like an old man who couldn’t get up on his own.

“If you’re gonna kill me,” he said in-between pants, “just go ahead and do it. Anything’s better than listening to you yap and yap.”

“Ohhh, booo~!” said Phecda. “That’s such a boring thing to do, Centaurus. Why would I kill my most interesting research subject.” Once again approaching, Phecda leaned in and grabbed Centaurus’ face in a sharp vice-grip. A glint that never failed to send shivers down Centaurus’ spine appeared in Phecda’s eyes. The grin was gone, replaced by a twisted and frustrated grimace. “I would love to take you apart to finally learn how and why you tick, but that would ruin everything. No, I must observe you without interfering. Without letting those ridiculous fools getting in your way so you can flourish. Those Elites are so concentrated in status and let promising subjects just die in those worthless mines of them. God, I wish I could take them apart too so I could show our worthless world what trash truly looks like.”

Centaurus tried to scream or shout, but he couldn’t stop trembling. His muscles wouldn’t move or respond. If Phecda truly wished, Centaurus would end up as the subject of vivisection. However, no such carnage occurred. Centaurus still breathed.

The two stared at each other for a while before Phecda’s face broke into another gleeful grin. “You flinched~! You’re so cute when you’re scared, but not as cute as Arcturus when everything’s falling apart around him. Phecda let go of Centaurus and stepped back, pacing the room with that ridiculous gait again. “Don’t worry, Centy. I just took you to my host’s apartment so you could get some rest. If either Zathina or Arcturus found ya with no energy, who knows what they would’ve done!” He shook his head in disapproval. “No, I learned so much from you, and yet there’s still more I want to discover.”

“What are you—”

“Please, indulge me, Centaurus,” said Phecda, turning to face Centaurus again, who flinched. “There’s a discovery I believe I have stumbled onto, and I was hoping to use you as a sort of ‘wall’ to bounce ideas off of. Maybe we could even collaborate,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

Moving his hand over his hairy and borrowed legs, Centaurus could feel just a bit of sensation return. If he could just stall this conversation out, he could make a break for it. “Fine,” he said, scoffing and turning his face away. “Start rambling, ya freak. If you get close to the mark, I’ll tell ya. In exchange, just lemme go, all right?”

Phecda cocked his brow, head tilting in confusion. “Oh, that sort of cooperation is unexpected. Wonder if you’ve found some sort of escape route you want to distract me from?”

Centaurus kept his face neutral as Phecda wandered the room, running his hands over the walls. As expected, Phecda knew very little about his own host’s home. “Either way, I guess I don’t really care. All I wanted was a chat. Whatever you do afterwards isn’t very important. Although…” Phecda shook his head. “Doesn’t matter! Let’s great started.”

“Shoot.”

“How did a being like you,” began Phecda, “with very little chance of mastering his craft might I add, ever become masterful enough at possession to rival of Elites like Arcturus or Zathina? Isn’t it curious? I often pondered that between classes and experiments. How was that possible? It’s like a homeless man having more skill than a dedicated kung-fu master.” As if to emphasize his point, Phecda performed a crane stance, the flaccid dick flopping as he lifted up his leg.

“You watching earth TV?”

“It’s nice to have in the background as I work,” said Phecda as rubbed the back of his neck. “But the point is, things weren’t adding up. I threw a few theories around. Time travel, secret training from special ops, all sorts of nonsense. It was more like a little pet project than anything else. Try not to feel so special, Centaurus.”

Rolling his eyes, Centaurus said, “Nice to know I’m such high priority for ya.”

“Well, at first it was.” The dangerous glint in Phecda’s eyes returned. The atmosphere grew heavy as his footfalls grew harder and more intense. “Then I saw the effect you had on Arcturus. That’s when it really got interesting.” Phecda continued to pace around the room. The amusement and nonchalantness of his expression faded. “I grew up together with him. I’ve observed him. He was always so dull. So boring. Just another by-product of our society. Nothing more. But then…! Oh, you made his interesting, Centaurus.” Without warning, he sprinted over to Centaurus and grabbed him by the shoulders. Centaurus could feel Phecda’s warm breath on his face. “Just by existing, just by being skilled, you began to break the little peanut-brain that that fool had. Just by being, you made him fascinating,” he said, eyes shining with wicked intent.

“Wh-What the hell do you want…?” said Centaurus, his heart racing. Goosebumps spread throughout his body. He had seen such an awful personality from Phecda before, but this was simply on a level he could have never seen coming. “What do you want from me, Phecda?!”

“I… just want you to go about the same as you always do!” said Phecda, releasing Centaurus. “I want to witness your potential, that’s all.” He merely shrugged, expression perfectly nonchalant. The sudden changes in mood only served to give Centaurus more anxiety. When would Phecda go in a rage? It was effective torture strategy, but Centaurus was wondering if that was even the goal.

In that brief period, Centaurus realized that Phecda was silent and just staring at him. Suddenly, embarrassed, Centaurus said, “You’re… seriously freaking me out. But, you’re fine with me winning this whole thing? Letting me get the chance to become a Dreadfighter and serve the Emperor directly? That’s fine with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” said Phecda. “You don’t have the skills of Zathina or even Arcturus, but you have good skills. And your head’s not up in the clouds like those two.” He threw his hands up into the air, eyes rolling as he spoke. “Always about honor and status with those two. They’re like broken records. Really, at least having someone like you around will keep things interesting. Besides…” Narrowing his eyes, Phecda said, “Someone who is willing to throw away everything for success is perfect for Dreadfighters, isn’t it?”

Flinching once more, Centaurus tried to back away further onto the bed. “So you figured it out.” Hiding anything from this madman would just agitate Phecda and make the situation worse. “Yeah, I throw just about everything at it when I possess a host.”

“Elites like us are specifically taught not to do that,” said Phecda. “If you try and force a connection with a host, you risk losing yourself. It’s like mixing two paints and hoping that the colors will remain pure. And yet… you still continue to do that. Every time, you allow your consciousness to meld with your host’s just for a tiny advantage. Why is that?”

Not wanting to face Phecda, Centaurus pointedly turned his head and stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set. Just a few hours longer and the festival would be over. His host still wasn’t fully recovered, but that was no longer his main concern. Thoughts and fears he had been burying deep inside of him finally emerged with little resistance. “Ya said it yourself. To risk everything for just that chance for success. That’s all it is. As simple as that.”

Pouting, Phecda said, “It’s so boring when you try to say it like that. At least do it like those detective shows where they have the lead talk about it in great and exciting detail!”

“My life isn’t a show, freak,” said Centaurus. “Just… I don’t have anything else, Phecda. If I don’t become a soldier, if I don’t prove my worth, then…” he paused, unable to say it. I’ll be just a worm. He shut his mouth and refused to let the words continue.

“I see. You’re a product of our society as well.” Phecda nodded, as if the world suddenly made complete sense to him. He spun on his heel and faced the wall, expression hidden. “Don’t kill Arcturus, Centy. He’s boring sometimes and crazy at others, but I still like him. You make him fascinating, but if you make him dead I’ll tear you apart and eat you, okay?”

The usual mania in his voice was gone. For the first time since they had met, Phecda spoke in a serious tone. “Yeah, sure. Wasn’t planning on killing the guy, anyway. He’s a piece of shit but like… no one that needs to be killed.”

“What’re you going to do when it’s just you and Zathina left?” asked Phecda, still hiding his face. “Do you think you can beat her?”

Centaurus ran a hand down his borrowed hair, a habit of his host. “I don’t know. But, I’ll give it a try, even if it kills me.”

“You’re desperate.”

“When you’ve got nothing else to live for and everything on the line,” said Centaurus, “wouldn’t anyone?”

“…Well, to see that realize…” Phecda turned around once more, smirking as he approached Centaurus. “You need your energy. I just happen to know a neat way for humans to generate the chemicals we feed on.” The doctor’s coat billowing as he strutted over, Phecda kneeled in front of Centaurus and began to lower his pants. “Just lean back, stare up at the ceiling, and relax. I’ll take it from here.”

“…You’re a real weirdo, y’know that?”

“Why thank you. You’re a real weirdo as well, Centy.” Phecda leaned in and kiss Centaurus’ lips, to the latter’s shock. “Keep being interesting. Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects, I promise you that much.”

Kindness came from such interesting places, Centaurus mused.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 6

Phecda’s little safe house was near the outskirts of the exam site. A simple apartment building with walls neatly decorated as though a prince lived in them.

‘Maybe that’s why he picked that host,’ thought Centaurus as he made his way down the halls and towards the lobby. Everything was far too pristine, far too unnaturally beautiful. It wasn’t unlike the buildings back at Terras, home world. This place was probably familiar for an Elite like him.

Elite…

“Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects,” Phecda had said. The words still bothered Centaurus. What had he been trying to imply? And did Centaurus want to know? Just the idea of being considered a ‘test subject’ annoying him to no end.

“Is he saying I’m not a worm…?” Centaurus muttered out loud. A few passing residents spared him a glance, the curiosity clear in their expressions. However, Centaurus didn’t pay them much mind. He only wanted to see if their body language betrayed any intent to fight.

Was Phecda suggesting that Centaurus was somehow better than his peers?

“Sunuvabitch,” he muttered as he walked past the automatic doors. Golden flowers and vines made of fine metals decorating the glass. The sheer lavishness of it all made him ill. He was glad to be leaving the building. Taking his first step forward, his gaze instantly shifted to the professor leaning up against the wall just a few feet away from the entrance.

Professor Polaris’ eyes didn’t widen when they wandered over to Centaurus. His pose, lax shoulders and a hunched back, remained static as he spoke up. “Ah! Quite fortunate, seeing you here,” he said, lazily raising his arm in a small greeting. Despite his attempts to seem casual, he had been expecting Centaurus. Polaris should’ve been at least a bit surprised or had some sort of reaction to seeing him.

‘What is he playing at?’ thought Centaurus. ‘He was waiting for me.’

Even after several hours, Polaris retained the same host. For whatever reason, whenever he found a body he didn’t seem to enjoy discarding it until the mission was over. Centaurus had once overheard a student from another class refer to Polaris as ‘overly sentimental.’

“How have you been, Centaurus?” said Polaris as he approached. “I trust your tasks have been finished?”

“Professor,” said Centaurus with a curt nod. “Is there something you need?” Answering his question, for whatever reason, didn’t feel right at the moment. It’d be better to just remain discreet. Centaurus also noticed that Polaris’ stance was unusually lax. His knees were straight, his hands were in his pockets, and his feet weren’t far apart. Weren’t soldiers, especially those with stories histories like Polaris, supposed to be more serious? Despite how little humans knew of their existence, the planet was still enemy territory.

“No, not quite what I need. But I do wish to inform of some of your classmates’ conditions. Particularly that of Alcor.” Centaurus’ eyes widened, and he cursed his sudden reaction.

“What does Alcor have to do with me?” he said, attempting to remain casual.

Polaris shrugged. “From what I can tell, nothing. But that reaction is certainly interesting. Usually you just shrug and dismiss me whenever I discuss your classmates with you.”

“Well, what’s the news on Alcor?”

“He’s gone,” said Polaris, eyes brimming with… pride? Amusement? Centaurus couldn’t tell. “Left the testing grounds, and it doesn’t appear he’s returning. For all intents and purposes, he has gone AWOL.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” said Centaurus with a shrug. He had managed to regain his composure. Just a few more exchanges and he’d walk away and be home free. “For all his talk, I wouldn’t have guess he’d just up and vanish. Guess he was all bark and no bite.” He said, forcing a snicker.

“Aww… is that any way to talk about your new friend?” Despite his teasing words, Polaris’ eyes almost looked sympathetic. Centaurus didn’t respond. He dropped his arms to the sides and glared at his professor. “You know, Centaurus… to live freely is to give other freedom. To gift him that chance to escape, that opportunity to shape his own life and future, is something beautiful. Did it feel rewarding?”

“...Why aren’t you reprimanding me?” asked Centaurus, narrowing his eyes. “You almost sound proud of me. Why? Shouldn’t I be…I don’t know, expelled? Punished? Even just scolded?”

Polaris didn’t stop smiling. Instead, he turned around and gestured for Centaurus to follow. “Walk with me. We should talk privately.” Before Centaurus could respond, Polaris had already begun walking off. They were headed towards a more populated part of the fair. Not far from them was a closed, unattended booth. That was most likely his destination.

“H-Hey, wait damn it!” Centaurus ran to catch up with Polaris’ stride. The professor’s host had longer legs, and he almost seemed determined to leave him behind. “Asshole…” Centaurus muttered once he finally caught up. “… it was bittersweet.”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me how it felt—with Alcor. It felt, still feels, bittersweet.” It had been a brief connection, but it was one of the few that Centaurus had ever made. To watch it go and ride off towards a land promising freedom tore at his heart. It was difficult not being envious. “He’s fine, he’ll be happy, out there. But, I’m still here. Still the same.” He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to descend, dyeing the world a vivid orange. Everyday, the sky changed hues.

“I try to change,” continued Centaurus, looking down at his rough, scarred hands. It was unfamiliar to him, and yet he still remained the same worm he always was. The faces he wore and the memories he ingested were all different, yet the scars he bore and the faint hope he clung onto remained the same.

Static. Stagnant.

“I wish I could’ve gone with him. I wish I could’ve escaped and shaped my own future with my own hands. But I was scared.” His voice cracked as he spoke. His host’s heart was racing, each thump an agonizing reminder of his own life. Why had he survived while other worms didn’t? Why did he continue to live? “I always thought becoming a Dreadfighter, becoming someone, would bring me happiness and freedom. And maybe it will. But I still wonder why I didn’t just run away with my friend. Why just being someone to Alcor wasn’t enough to let me run alongside him.” He looked up at Polaris. “Professor, did I make the right choice? Or am I just weak?”

“I can’t say,” he said. “No one can know what choice is the right one. We simply choose and allow the consequences to play out. If we don’t like them, we just deal with outcome and make another choice later down the line. That’s what life is, Centaurus. That’s the beauty and terror of freedom.” Polaris raised his arm and stopped Centaurus in his tracks. “And you made your decision. You chose to help Alcor find freedom, Centaurus. Extending a hand out in kindness, even after facing so much abuse from others, from your own kind, takes a type of strength I deeply envy.”

Stepping forward to stand in front of Centaurus’ host, Polaris placed a hand on Centaurus’ borrowed chest and squeezed. “Your heart is scarred, and it remains strong. It’s so easy to hurt someone else because you’ve been hurt. But you chose differently, Centaurus. As your teacher, I am so very proud of the choice you made.”

“Professor, I…”

Before either of them could continue, “A-HEM,” a loud and deliberate cough cut them off. They both turned to face a round-faced women with a babbling infant in her hands. “Pride is important and all, but please don’t grope each other where kids can see you.” Polaris withdrew his hands, muttering a sheepish apology as his ears turned red. “Thank you.” With a huff, the woman walked off.

The two stood there in silence before Polaris let out a snicker. “Snrk…! Heheh…! Here I was trying to be all emotional that I forgot humans don’t share such intimacy with each other.” It wasn’t long before he was full-on laughing, shoulders bouncing up and down as that little embarrassed joy filled the air.

Centaurus joined in for a second with a few light-hearted chuckles, but remained paranoid the whole time. “Professor, what’s the real reason you wanted to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” nodded Polaris. “Come. We should talk privately.” He walked over to the booth’s closed curtains and gestured for Centaurus to walk in. He didn’t. After a few moments of waiting, he nodded and said, “Smart. Don’t show your back to someone if you’re not 100% certain you can trust them.”

“It’s just common sense.”

“Not to those who can afford it. Those we call ‘Elites.’ I do apologize that to you it is common sense, Centaurus. Or for anyone, in that war-fueled society of ours.” Polaris stepped into the darkened booth first, and Centaurus cautiously followed.

“There’s a lot that needs to be said,” said Polaris, his voice dropping low and losing any of the levity it previously had. “And some that can only be shown to be believed. But I suppose there’s no easy way to ease someone into this next bit of news.

“Centaurus, our society relies on the weak thrown and killed on the front lines or dying in the mines for resources to fuel our machines and weapons to fight. Or even as slaves, not servants, to Elites who see them as lesser.” With each word he uttered, his voice became softer and somber. The look in his eyes, a bit harder to tell in the dark booth, grew dull and damp. It was as if speaking about this was sucking the life out of him.

“War and hierarchy are intrinsic parts of our society,” he continued. “And this decades-long war, having started long before I was even born, allowed for technological prosperity, but social stagnation. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We can’t move forward without risking stability, and no one wants that in the middle of wartime.

“But, Centaurus… you, me, and all who have died and lived in the 20 years have been living a lie. The war has been over. Our Emperor has made fools of us all.”

FEStival Fiasco

Part 7

The Puppet that Played at being a Star

A lie.

That was all Centaurus could think when Professor Polaris said that.

“Y-You’re lying to me,” he said, wincing and chiding himself as he heard how shaky his own voice was. Why was he so nervous? His heart was pounding. Every pump was like a hammer to his temple. “You can’t be telling the truth… the whole war, being a lie?!”

It was far too ridiculous to be true.

No, it wasn’t just that.

If there truly was no war, then why was Centaurus born, nameless and abandoned, in those mines? Why did so many others before and after him? Why did so many of his fellow brethren die cold, hungry, alone, and in pain?

‘Did my suffering not matter? Did theirs? Did they all have no meaning?’

To believe the professor would be to accept those thoughts. And if Centaurus did accept them…

Why was he even here? Why was he even alive?

“Liar…! You piece of shit, I oughta kill you right here!”

Polaris’ expression remained unchanged; unwavering even as Centaurus charged him and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Where the hell do you get off mocking me?!” Centaurus demanded, spit flying. “Huh?! You bastard, you better tell me the truth right now or—!”

“You already know a way to see if I’m lying or not.” Polaris quirked an eyebrow, licking his lips. “You’ve seen your hosts’ memories, haven’t you? Well, it works for each other as well.” He smirked. “It really makes you wonder what was the real purpose behind our species’ ability to interact and share with each other’s neural networks. Maybe we were meant to communicate better with each other this whole time, huh…? Centaurus, what do you think?”

Centaurus’ grip slowly loosened as he took in Polaris’ words. “You want me to bite you, as though I was possessing someone,” he said, arms fell to the side, hanging limply as though they were lead weights. “I’ve… I’ve never done something like this.” When had his host begun sweating so much? When did he start trembling? What was Centaurus so afraid of?

‘Why am I even here?’ Once more, that question came to him, but he quickly shook it away.”

“Curious?”

“… Of course I am.”

“Well? Are you going to do it or not?” Polaris, still smirking, tilted his head forward so as to touch Centaurus’ borrowed forehead with his own. “I have high hopes for you, Centaurus. Search my mind, and don’t hide away from the truth.”

“… Are you taunting me…? Centaurus asked, drained enough that he couldn’t even remain angry at Polaris.

Professor Polaris let out a chuckle, pulling Centaurus in for a tight embrace. “I saw your potential, y’know? That’s why I fought hard to allow the board of our academy to allow you to attend. And more specifically, to allow me to become your teacher. Haven’t you ever wondered why a former military commander became a professor? It’s because I insisted.”

Certain details made more sense, but there was still someone odd about all of this. “But, why? Why did you want me to join the academy? Y’know I was a worm, so then…?”

“Because whether they like it or not, it’s only by meeting another with widely different circumstances that these students’ worlds actually expand. Without you, there’s no way that any of them will ever grow. But the reverse also applies to you. There’s no way you will the true injustices of the world without witnessing those who inhabit it. This is how the seeds of revolution can be planted. It’s the only way that society will ever change.”

Centaurus, frowning, scoffed and pointedly looked away. “This is such bullshit,” he muttered. “So I was just a puppet for you to manipulate? A tool for your little play at a revolution?”

It always felt as though he was being pushed and pulled by forces beyond his understanding. Whether it was the Elites who looked down on him from their ivory world or the coach who stood before him, Centaurus was just dancing to a tune that only he couldn’t hear. “What am I, Polaris? Am I just something to be used, or am I someone who can choose his own fate? Am I… simply a worm…?”

Coach Polaris’ expression grew grim. A heavy silence spread throughout the dark room. To Centaurus, it felt like “Judgment Day,” an event that held considerable importance in his host’s mind. Yes, Centaurus’ world felt like it was about to crumble before him. His purpose seemed scattered in the wind, as though it was about to vanish when it was so close in his grasp. He thought that he was building his own fate, a path that he crafted with his own hands.

Yet… that was never the case.

“Who am I?” Centaurus asked again.

“You’re… you. That’s all. That’s what you decided for yourself, right? ‘Centaurus,’ named after the sun that everything in our world revolves around. That was the point, wasn’t it?”

Centaurus hesitated, just for a moment. “Yeah, but not quite. I… I loved that sunrise that I saw, the first time I ever left those tunnels. And, I wanted to be that for others. Other worms that had spent their lives underground. I wanted to be like that beautiful sight that inspired me to finally live—finally retake myself. If just another one of my brothers and sisters was inspired, then I’d make it all worth it.”

That settled it. The truth was right before him, and Centaurus would sooner die than allow it to escape his grasp. He carried not just his own life, but all of those that came and died before him in those damn tunnels. Centaurus nodded and stepped forward.

It began.

“Allow me to show you,” said Coach Polaris, walking in a circle as Centaurus slowly spun, eyes glaring down at Polaris’ host. They moved as though following a rhythm only they could hear. Somehow, it felt right. The two moved and swayed as they approached, their fingers intertwining as they waltzed in the dark. “Is this instinct? Fate?” asked Polaris.

Centaurus shut his eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just doing what I’m supposed to.” He was leading for whatever reason. Was it his host’s idea? Muscle memories that were flowing out in this moment? “I’m doing what feels right.”

“It’s a forgotten dance in our people,” said Polaris. “We were meant to share our minds, our souls, with each other. But this hierarchy prevented that. This is the dawn of a new age, Centaurus. This is—”

“I don’t know if this is true or not yet,” growled Centaurus. “Let’s… Let’s just do this.” Deep down, he was trembling, but he threw himself towards the fire anyway. Centaurus leaned in and kissed Polaris’ host. He slithered through their intimate kiss into Polaris’ borrowed body.

The host choked and struggled as yet another creature slithered into his body. It was difficult for his body to withstand it as Centaurus crawled into his brain. The two snake-like creatures danced and chased the other's tail, following their instinct like always. An ouroboros. A dragon that would wrap around the world.

Centaurus' vision grew dark as foreign sensations flooded his body. It was a trade. Their minds, memories, souls, and hearts were all shared. It was an electric experience, somehow more intimate than sex yet somehow more universal at the same time. It was like he was ascending to the heavens or reaching Nirvana.

When Centaurus’ vision returned, he was staring up at a starry sky on unfamiliar soil. This wasn’t his memory, he had never seen this sight before. Yes, this was from Polaris. It was a hazy sight and he couldn’t move. It was like he was watching an old film that had been rescued from the clutches of being lost forever.

The stars looked more like streamers zooming by as fireworks lit up the night sky.

“You promised you would come home soon.”

Those weren’t Centaurus’ thoughts, but he heard them all the same.

“You promised you’d come back to them; and promised to come back to me. I waited for you on the ground, wishing on the stars that flew next to you to bring you back safe.”

A shooting star came barreling down the sky, a trail of smoke and flames right behind it. Centaurus’ heart raced as terror and despair flooded his mind.

“Why did you have to die…? I loved you. I loved you so much…”

His heart broke. Not Centaurus’, but Polaris. These were Polaris' thoughts. And the ship he Centaurus focused on carried the one whom he had longed for ever since he could remember. “I didn’t mind you finding another mate and building a family as long as I could remain by your side. How was I supposed to tell them you were gone? How could you take my love and leave me behind…?”

Zathina’s father, Altair, died on that day. His son, Vega, perished soon after in the same dogfight. There was little of each body to bury, a right both of them had.

Polaris mourned and suffered, and Centaurus felt each heartache as though they were his own.

‘So that’s why he wants to watch over her,’ thought Centaurus.

“All that remained of you was that child—Zathina. So I tried to help her, tried to keep her safe. She became hardened and strong, but I could still see the scars in her heart. She stood on her own, but it had crushed her completely to do so. It was like a vase that had been shattered and put back together. Though it still stood, it was far more fragile than ever before.

“And, I wanted to find out the truth. I wanted to know why you had to die, why this war that took you away continued to drag on despite victory after victory.

What was found… was schematics of the enemy’s ship, military plans based on their battle tactics, and receipts for expenses that had been kept secret. When Polaris found them, only one conclusion made sense.

“The ships you had fought that day… were built by our very own military. Not just on that day, but every combat you had ever flown on, and even before that. None of them were piloted by our enemy, the Carinos. In fact, they were more than likely extinct. Wiped out by us.”

When had the conflict ended…? For how long had the war been fabricated. How many of their own did the Emperor sacrifice for the status quo to continue? Those were the questions that raced through Polaris’ mind all those years ago. He had discovered the truth; he understood that there was no reason behind Altair’s death. He died for nothing. And a part of Polaris died along with him.

“I couldn’t stand being in that department for much longer. I left. I had to leave. If I didn’t, I was certain I would kill someone. Most of us there didn’t know the truth, but some of them did. Yes, the higher-ups must’ve known. I needed to leave and go elsewhere before I tried to make them pay. If I got myself killed before exposing the truth to everyone, I wouldn’t be able to avenge you, my love. So I left and joined the educational department. If I could make a difference with our youth, if I worked to change everything…”

It wasn’t long before Polaris discovered and joined an underground revolution. His eyes were open, and his mind would follow soon after. So much of life, even among the Elites, was hidden and censored by the Emperor and his council.

“Did you know, my dear Altair, that they no longer wish to be called ‘Worms?’ That’s right, they want to be Cosmopolitans; those who are found everywhere, those who are ubiquitous. Elites and Worms are to become useless terms. We all want to become Cosmopolitans. That’s what freedom is, right?”

Time passed, and eventually Polaris came to find someone named ‘Centaurus’ trying to apply to the academy. It had taken urging for the school board to accept him, but Polaris’ reputation was a major help. Perhaps his young one would join the revolution. Perhaps he would be a good influence on those Elites that had little knowledge of the people that were forced below them.

‘It was him… Polaris had been… guiding me along…

‘And… it was really a lie…

‘A lie… the war… the society that had been shaped by it… it was all falsehoods.

‘They died…

‘For nothing…’

“I’ll kill him. The Emperor. I swear I’ll kill him. I won’t rest until my hands are around his thorax.”

The last sight The Emperor would see was a shining star sending him to hell. Centaurus swore on that.