Sheebe jolted awake in her seat as a metallic rattle cut through the hum of the truck’s cooling systems. The dashboard warning lights flashed a familiar angry orange: warning (!), the label said, seek assistance immediately (!).
“That’s what Hux is doing,” the shiba woman muttered to herself. She frowned as the metal rattling upgraded to a worrying series of clanks. It was one thing for the truck’s engine to have broken down at the worst possible moment, but if the cooling system went then they could kiss their summer vacation goodbye.
Sheebe gulped. Probably a lot else too, considering how important this was to her boss. “Better check on the goods, just to be safe.” She stood up from her deep slouch in the passenger seat, which was no small feat given her plump body. The dog woman wasn’t exactly fat, but there was a lot of her to go around, especially around her waist and hips. Her short black hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore a simple green shirt and black shorts with green trim. A sliver of her beige fur peeked out from the bottom of her shirt and her shorts clung tightly to her thighs.
She stepped from the cab into the refrigerated back section of the truck. Her green eyes scanned for any problems but she was quickly distracted by the wave of delightful coolness that washed over her. “Mmm,” she hummed.
It was an ice cream truck, after all: a panel along one side would flip up into a metal awning when they parked it to serve customers. Beneath that stood a counter with two dozen containers of ice cream, each several gallons deep. Across from them was a row of waist-high freezers packed solid with popsicles, frozen yogurt, syrups, sauces—
Sheebe shook her head. “No, no, gotta focus.” She had a bad sweet tooth, which had more than once gotten her into trouble for eating something she was supposed to sell. She looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary. The clanking sound was barely audible back here, which implied it wasn’t coming from the refrigeration system.
Sheebe stroked her chin with a finger. “So if it isn’t the fridges and it can’t be the engine, then it must be . . .” She poked her head back into the truck cab just in time to hear the clank turn into a wheeze before cutting out. The steady drone of the air conditioning cut out with it.
“Great.” Sheebe sighed and shut the door before leaning back against one of the freezers. “Ah!” The cold was shocking against the backs of her thick thighs. “Ah . . .” She rubbed her butt back and forth along the icy metal but stopped before she got too carried away. It was much cooler in here than the truck cab, but she knew it would be a bad idea to surround herself with sweets for goodness-knew how long until Huxley returned.
Speaking of which, why don’t I have a look for him? Sheebe walked past a hundred heart attacks’ worth of ice cream and stepped out the back door. She was immediately reminded why she had been waiting inside the truck: before her foot touched the dirt road, a wave of hot, muggy air rolled over her like a rancid blanket. She was a beige speck on a russet dirt road, completely at the sun’s mercy. Dense trees and bright green foliage leaned in from the road’s edges like greedy fingers.
More importantly, Huxley was nowhere to be seen. Sheebe looked up and down the road, but there was nowhere she could have missed him. He just wasn’t there.
Sheebe sagged against the side of the truck, then jumped back with a yipe as she touched the searing metal. She decided to sag on her feet. “This is not how I wanted to spend the summer at a tropical resort,” the shiba woman muttered to no-one in particular.
It had been simple enough: the ice cream store Sheebe worked for (Cones & Creams – Thick and Tasty, Guaranteed!) was expanding to a resort that had opened just outside the city. Sheebe’s boss had sensed a good business opportunity to put hot, sweaty, rich people and cool, tasty, expensive food together.
But Cones & Creams was a small company: Sheebe loved that, and she knew firsthand their snacks tasted better than mass-produced slush, but it also meant they couldn’t just have a few thousand ice cream bars delivered on someone else’s dime. Thus, Sheebe had enlisted the help of her hubby Huxley to drive the company ice cream truck out to the resort. They would use the truck as a luxury snack store until their supply ran out, then drive back to the main store for refills. In the meantime, they’d take advantage of the resort’s amenities if they could ever tear themselves away from each other.
Things had been going smoothly until they weren’t: the truck had shuddered to a halt, belching black smoke, and refused to budge an inch. Huxley had taken one look at the engine, sworn under his breath, and started the long walk back to the nearest garage. “It’ll be fine, babe,” he had said. “I just need a double-flanged inverse Johnson rod recombobulator. They’re a dime a dozen.”
Sheebe, who got dizzy if she ever so much as looked at an engine, had waited patiently in the truck. And waited. And waited some more until the AC had gone out and here she was standing by the side of a truck that would burn her if she touched it, guarding a horde of goodies she couldn’t eat.
“Hmph.” Sheebe tromped up to the truck cab and flung the door open. The air inside had already gone from tolerably cool to stuffy, and if she sat down she would only get stuffier. She fished a paper road map out of the glove box and consulted it.
“It isn’t even 10 clicks to the end of the road,” she said to herself. Huh. I could probably walk that. There was a pregnant pause.
“If I’m going to melt, I might as well melt doing something productive.” The dog woman reached for a thermal duffle bag under one of the seats, then went to the freezers. She scooped some water bottles and a sampler of their specialty treats into the bag to help make a good first impression. She zipped the bag tight and scribbled a quick note to Huxley on a scrap of paper, which she left on the dashboard before starting down the road towards the resort.
She turned a corner just a few seconds before the truck’s AC coughed back to life. She did not see the rush of cold air dislodge her note. She did not see it tumble to the bottom of the cab and come to rest atop a layer of ice cream wrappers and dust bunnies.
A short while later, Sheebe was beginning to think that melting in the truck cab might not have been such a bad idea after all. After the corner, the road zig-zagged down some switchbacks before climbing up the other side of a stout valley. Sheebe was not built for hiking, and the heavy bag hanging from her shoulder made things even worse.
The jungle out here was pretty in a wild sort of way: flashes of brilliant golden sunlight flickered through the tree trunks and thick tropical leaves on either side of the road, punctuated by lush wildflowers. It hadn’t rained recently, so at least Sheebe didn’t have to contend with swarms of bugs or a muddy road – she just had the raw, baking heat of the midday sun.
Finally she crested the hill. There was a short, flat boulder on the right side of the road, and she wobbled over to it before sitting down. Her shorts strained around her ass but admirably did not break.
“Okay,” panted Sheebe as she fished a water bottle from her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.” She gulped down half the bottle. “Maybe Huxley was right and I should have just kept my fat butt in the truck.” She grinned ruefully and glanced down at herself. “Maybe making it a little less fat wouldn’t hurt. Although Hux always did like . . .”
Her train of thought sputtered into smoke as a sweet scent played across her nose. Sheebe glanced at the bag, but it was shut tight. Where was it coming from? She sniffed the air, leaning this way and that and scanning the nearby brush. After a minute she looked over her shoulder: the sweetness was coming from the jungle.
The shiba woman huffed to her feet and stood on the rock, trying to see anything. The smell was sweet, but not sickly sweet like rotting fruit. It clung to the bottom of her lungs in a cloying pool unlike the air it rode in on. Sheebe had smelled a lot of confectionery in her time, but nothing like this. Icing sugar? No. Dried fruit? No. Honey? No. Man, what is that?
Sheebe stepped forward and leaned past the tree line, bracing herself on a low branch. The canopy was low here, and the jungle was darker except for a few brassy patches of sunlight that bounced off low ferns. She still couldn’t see anything more than a stone’s throw away, but the scent was just a little bit stronger now. Sheebe glanced back down the road. Still nothing. She couldn’t even hear the distant roar of the truck’s engine.
Sheebe turned back to the mysterious scent. Her inner chef wanted to know what this was. She had time, right? The dog woman inhaled again – succulent, full, heady. Yeah. Yeah, she did. If there was some strange native fruit growing around here, it would probably go great on a vanilla sundae. “Maybe chocolate,” she said, absently licking her lips.
Sheebe drew a pocket knife from an overstretched pouch in her shorts and flicked it open. She knew this was probably a stupid idea, but she wasn’t that dumb. She carved a notch as big as her hand into the tree by the road, then stepped into the jungle.
The difference was instant: instead of the sun browbeating her into the ground, the heat came from all around her. There were no squawking birds or buzzing insects, so Sheebe kept moving forward, glancing back and forth alertly. Every few paces she stopped and carved another notch around eye level.
The scent floated around her head. She breathed in and let her mind wander. Bake it into a tart? Maybe. Strain out the juice and freeze it? Could make for a good sauce—
Sheebe stopped, then blinked. She looked behind her and found she had walked almost thrice as far as usual without notching a tree. Sheebe shook her head as she notched the tree next to her. Get a grip, Phoebe, she thought sternly enough to use her real name. She was about to continue admonishing herself when another cloud of that blissful smell drifted by. It was stronger and smelled like berries.
Sheebe turned like a doll and started walking again. Too bitter to be strawberry. Too sweet to be
blueberry. Blackberry? The next time Sheebe passed a tree, she just slowed down instead of stopping. The notch was half as large as the last one. She snuffled, leaning forward like someone had tied a string to her nose. It wasn’t blackberry, but what was it?
She had no doubt it must be edible. Something that smelled so good – she inhaled another lungful of rich, lustrous air – would naturally be edible in order to attract animals and insects to pollinate. The dog woman looked left and right only to find the jungle was still quiet and empty, with only the soft swishing of her boots through the undergrowth. Her knife arm drifted out to scratch at a tree trunk as she passed it.
Maybe she had scared the other animals and bugs away. Yeah, that was probably it. Sheebe inhaled and licked her lips. Her mouth had started watering at some point. It felt nice. The smell was very strong now. Even when she exhaled, she could feel it pooled thickly in her lungs, just waiting for another breath to flush it through her system again.
She obliged. She giggled. It was funny how the air tasted good. Air didn’t have a taste, even when you mixed it with ice cream to make it spongy. She liked ice cream. Did any of the flavours taste like the air here? She dropped the thing she was holding and looked down at her hands.
“Vanilla, mint, st-straawwbrry,” she panted, extending her fingers one at a time. “Ch. . . chawklit . . .” Inhale, exhale. Air, ice cream. Taste good, taste good. Her eyes crossed as she brought her hands near. “C-c-c . . . coo . . . coooookeezncreeeeeeem . . .” Man, this was hard. Why were there so many kinds?
The dog woman’s next step was harder than the rest. She looked down with glazed eyes to find a vine had wound itself around her ankle. She bent double at the waist and leaned down but her fumbling fingers couldn’t pry under the thin, thorny vine cutting into her fur. She tried to think if that was bad or not but her mental gears were swaddled in cotton candy.
Inhale. Rich, sweet air poured through her mouth and nose. She felt it slide down her windpipe like warm fog.
Sheebe rose to her feet again. The vine was forgotten. She wobbled forward even as it got harder to walk, even as a second vine crept around her other foot. Thorns dug into her fur and pressed against her skin. It was very quiet around her except for a low rustling sound that she couldn’t place.
The dog woman blinked. She could see something through a cloud of pink smoke just up ahead. No, no, it wasn’t smoke, it was – she leaned to the side and took a big breath and her eyes rolled around in her head from the rush of sugar air – more like some kind of haze that clung to the ground. It was thicker around this part and the smell was so sweet. She wanted more.
Sheebe panted softly, straining to fill her lungs with the syrupy air. The jungle disappeared around her as she walked into the haze. The scent was so thick that she felt it collect on her fur. Absently, she glanced down at one of her hands. It was covered in pink dewdrops. Smell good. Taste good? She shoved her fingers into her mouth. The raw shock of so much sugar made her choke. She stopped to gag.
Or, she tried to stop. There was a tug on her legs and she felt herself stumble forward. The the thorny vine around her ankles had wound its way up past her knees. In fact, there were three or four vines covering each of her legs up to her thighs. She stared dumbly as one vine crept upwards and under the hem of her shorts, one green inch at a time. Sheebe’s brain tried to find words but the only ones she could put together were sweet and more.
More vines rose from the ground like silent cobras. They slowly, gently circled her arms and waist, binding her snugly and poking her with thorns and crawling under her shirt – but they didn’t hurt her. Each one was only about as thick as Sheebe’s pinky finger, but they were cinched snugly. They tugged her again and she toppled to her knees.
A new wave of sweetness got her attention. Sheebe managed to raise her head and finally saw the source of the scent. A few metres in front of her, a giant pitcher plant rose from the ground like a hideous brass instrument. It was at least three metres tall, with the base of the pitcher bulging out like a fat beer gut. Wrinkled green leaves stuck out from its base and ran up the side as pink fog poured from the pitcher’s mouth and cascaded to the ground in softly rolling streams.
It was the best thing Sheebe had ever smelled. “Sweeeet,” she muttered dumbly as the plant’s vines dragged her closer. She couldn’t have walked even if she had been free.
The plant remained silent as it dragged its prey near. It had done this a thousand times before without the need for higher thoughts.
“G-gonna make you—” Sheebe hiccuped, “—inta ice creeeeem . . .” her words turned into a slurry of giggles. The vines pulled, implacable and indifferent. The dog woman’s delirium reached higher and higher as she squirmed and tried to cover herself in the scent. It was everywhere around here: condensing on her fur, baked into the leaves on the ground, woven into the vines that cradled her.
There were quite a lot of vines now, sinuously creeping around her meaty legs and body. A pair of them writhed under her shirt, settling themselves into the soft flesh of her tits.
“H-hey,” Sheebe stuttered as her head bobbed forward and back, “Don’ get too f-frenly, Mr. Sweet . . .” She tried to lift a hand to her shirt, but couldn’t. Her head turned with dizzying slowness. Her arms were both being pulled out in front of her next to her legs. She was like a marionette with her strings all tangled around the paddle. “Oh?” she asked, dazed. “Where you pullin’?”
Another gentle tug was the only answer she got. The plant softly wound her into its embrace like a spool of thread.
Sheebe reached the base of the plant and the scent was truly overpowering. Breathing in and out were just different shades of the hazy tapestry hanging in the air. The dog woman’s wiggles stopped completely, but she could feel the vines loosen.
R-right . . . gotta climb t-to sweet . . .
She struggled into a crouch. Her shirt and shorts bulged under her weight and the slithering motion of the vines underneath them. Sheebe mumbled something but it died in her throat as she took another sweet-smelling breath. She began to climb, pressing her hands and knees onto thick leaves. They held her weight like a morbid staircase, and after a dozen clumsy steps she was nearly at the pitcher’s mouth.
The plant knew its prey sometimes had death throes of blind panic that broke free of the vines, but this fat one was no threat. She had barely resisted. The plant eased its grip around her and started to unwind its vines.
“Wh-whoa,” said Sheebe. She could feel the vines slithering off of her body, and finally their thorns began to do their work. “Ah!” She swayed as jagged holes appear in her clothing and the sharp pinpricks jolted against her skin. It felt like her entire body had fallen asleep, but the desire to climb forced her into a drunken stance atop the highest leaf as her shirt and shorts were reduced to shreds. The pitcher’s lip was about even with her large breasts, and she tried to lean forward into it because that’s where the sweetness was coming from – but something stopped her.
“Mmm?” Sheebe asked, looking down and behind her to see a black lumpy thing with some smaller green things around it hanging off her shoulder. After staring at it, the shiba woman realized it was the duffle bag full of ice cream and sweets she had been carrying. A handful of vines had sunk their thorns into it after drifting away from her. “Suh-weet,” she droned, reaching down for the bag and fumbling with the zipper.
The plant had waited too long. It gathered its “breath” to prepare another wave of intoxicating pollen to remind its prey where she belonged.
“Gotchaaa.” Sheebe finally had the zipper in her fingers. She pulled, eager and hungry. The bag split open and a handful of ice cream treats tumbled out. Sheebe reached in and grabbed something in a paper cup, not that she would have been able to describe it. She lurched it to her mouth and squeezed out two handfuls of cold, tasty goodness that she gobbled down as quickly as they came.
The ice cream was a frigid shock all around her lips, tongue, and mouth. “Ahh . . .” she panted, feeling the sweetness in her throat and a very different sensation on the roof of her mouth. “Nnn,” she whined, pressing her hands to her temples. “Hurts . . .”
The plant poured out another wave of pollen. Sheebe breathed it in.
She turned back to the pitcher, but the frigid feeling from her mouth finally reached her brain. The pain lanced through her head before cracking open like a glacier and flowing over the rest of her senses. “Ah!” Sheebe cried.
The painful clarity was enough to snap her trance to an end, blocking out the cloying pollen for a moment. She blinked and looked around, stunned. “W-what the heck?” was all she could manage. Vulgarity just wasn’t in her nature. Brain f-freeze? Where . . . ?
She reached for the nearest thing for balance, which happened to be the pitcher, and her hand slipped on the slick fleshy edge. She fell forward onto her armpit. Sheebe now had an excellent view of the inside of the pitcher.
The top was exactly what she expected: a thick ring whose walls were at least the width of her hand. The plant was translucent, and she could see a sunbeam through the other side near the top. Lower, the jungle’s colours were smothered to dying smudges, and the liquid at the bottom was opaque. A ripple wavered out from the walls as the plant bent slightly under Sheebe’s weight.
“Huh,” Sheebe said, still not really processing what she saw. The charm of the pollen had faded down here – the pitcher smelled sweet, but it was so saccharine she wanted to gag, and there was an ugly odour underneath it. She coughed, shaking the plant again.
Something round and white jostled to the top of the liquid. Sheebe stared at it, puzzled, as it floated and spun in the plant’s juices. Two dark holes rotated upwards, followed by two rows of small white nubs. She blinked. Eye sockets. Teeth. Skull.
Her blood ran cold.
That smell is rotting meat. This plant is going to eat me.
Sheebe screamed and threw herself back from the pitcher, tumbling head over heels down the leaves as the vines embracing her snagged tighter and tighter. Numbing pinpricks turned into painful scratches winding around both her arms and legs. Sheebe strained, trying to roll over the edge of a leaf, until finally the vines snapped and she whirled to the ground in a painful heap.
“Hff!” The fall had knocked the wind out of her but she stumbled to her feet in a blind panic and frantically looked around. Notches! There were no notches. She couldn’t see her knife. She didn’t know where her clothes were or why her arms and legs hurt so much or where all the pink haze had come from—
Oh, but she did know that. “No, no, no . . .” Her panic swelled as the memories of the last few minutes flowed into her mind’s eye like melting wax. The pink haze had tricked her. It was going to kill her. And now it was all around her, pooling around her legs and arms and sticking to her fur like candied icing.
Something pricked her foot. “Eeeek!” She turned and ran.
Time flew away from Sheebe as she ran in a blind panic. She had no goal but to escape the insidious fog. A dead sprint should have been impossible for a woman of her size, but that’s exactly what she did. Her boobs, belly, and butt jiggled as she tore through the jungle in her underwear, leaping over fallen trees and pushing through thickets of ferns.
Her route took her almost exactly away from the road, not that she knew that. It was just as well – if she had know how much she was endangering herself by taking a wild, zigzagging path straight towards the heart of the jungle then she’d have likely fainted on the spot.
“Whoa!” Sheebe’s carelessness caught up with her and she tripped. She careened forward with no time to break her fall, but luckily she fell onto soft grass. “Oof!” Her belly took most of the impact and she crumpled into a heap as her manic strength left her. After a minute, she managed to raise her head out of the dirt and get a decent look around.
She was in the middle of a small clearing. Thick, soft grass grew about as high as her knees. The shiba woman pushed herself up to her elbows and saw that the jungle around her was much brighter than the gloomy canopy surrounding the pitcher plant. The usual riot of jungle flowers dotted every tree trunk and bush, and the sun glowed like molten gold through gaps in the leaves. There was a particularly sunny spot in the middle of the clearing.
It almost looks normal. Sheebe rolled into a sitting position with her legs splayed. She looked down at her body to assess the damage.
Her fur was still matted by pink droplets, but they had dried and stopped airing off the deadly scent. She took of whiff of one hand and found it normal except for a dull sugary undertone. Her clothes were gone: where her shirt and shorts had covered her plump breasts and big ass, now only her underwear protected her modesty. It was black lacy lingerie. Huxley loved it. She had worn it for him to see once they arrived in their room.
“Hux . . .” She whispered. The thought of him sent a dull dagger into her heart. There was a very real chance she’d never see him again.
Sniffing back tears, Sheebe looked at her arms and legs: there were a few diehard vines clinging to her ankles. She unwound them, hissing as the thorns slid painfully out of the divots in her skin. Her socks had been torn apart above the ankle, but her heavy boots were intact, so she could walk without stepping on something sharp. But if Sheebe were to walk, she’d need to know where she was headed in the first place and she’d need to make sure she didn’t collapse from exhaustion.
The dog woman turned to the duffle bag strapped haggardly to her shoulder. She peeled back the top flap and found an armful of luxurious, smushed, ice cream treats. There was a single half-empty water bottle sitting in the middle of them: the one she had drunk from before getting the stupid idea to follow the sweet smell.
That was it. She had an armful of melting ice cream and a few mouthfuls of water. She was naked, afraid, lost, and alone.
Sheebe’s heart caught in her throat. The tears she had been sniffing back welled up, hot and tight.
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair! How was I supposed to know there were giant maneating plants around here!? Does the resort know about these!?
The poor woman clamped her hands to the top of her head, trying and failing to contain the shakes she was getting as the adrenaline drained out of her system. Not fair. She felt one angry tear drop down her cheek. Not fair! Her jaw clenched. NOT FAIR!
“Hello?” came a nearby voice. Sheebe blinked. Had she imagined it? All she could see through her tears was a warped, watery distortion of the clearing and all she could hear was the rush of furious blood pounding through her ears. “Um, Miss . . . dog?” She hadn’t been imagining it.
Sheebe quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, not quite believing her luck. A worker from the resort, or a truck driver, or a giant snake, or—
A giant snake? She blinked again. There was a very large snake right in front of her. Its head was half against as large as Sheebe’s, hovering at eye level while its body lay in the grass.
The snake’s body was a dark purple that reminded Sheebe of smoke, slightly lighter on the belly. Its pupils were black slits bisecting light amber eyes, which themselves seemed to glow against the dusky purple scales. As Sheebe looked down, she saw the snake’s body got wider where it touched the ground – almost as thick as her leg at the widest part. The snake’s body was covered in lustrous scales that sunlight sunk into, shining with a dull waxy look.
The snake flicked out its bright pink tongue. It looked at Sheebe the way a child with a magnifying glass looks at an anthill. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Scratch that, it was a giant talking snake.
Sheebe fainted.
Setra looked curiously at the dog woman in front of her. Most of her meals were four-legged and put up quite a fight, but this one had barged into the clearing on two legs and fallen down while kicking up an awful racket. She looked vaguely similar to a couple of wolf tribeswomen Setra had encountered before, but this one was fatter and didn’t seem to be capable of defending herself at all. Setra smacked her lips. Much fatter . . .
Case in point, Setra had gotten within striking distance of this one without her even seeming to notice. When Setra’s curiosity had won out and she introduced herself, the tubby little thing had keeled over. “Very curiousss indeed,” Setra said to herself as she watched the dog woman bubble up from unconsciousness into a rough sitting position.
“Wh-wha?” mumbled Sheebe groggily. Right. Talking snake. Sure, why not?
“I was remarking how curiousss it is for you to be here,” Setra said, staring. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone like you in this jungle before.” She leaned to the side, puzzled.
“Really? Do you at least know how to get back to the road?”
Setra did. “I don’t think I’ve seen any road around here.”
Sheebe’s heart sank. She slumped back onto the ground. “Figures. Maneating plant, giant talking snake – but no info booth to point me back in the right direction.” The shock of her situation had settled over her like a sheet and she was just too tired to panic anymore.
Setra perked up. “Maneating plant? Oh, you mean that big thing that gives off the pink haze?”
Sheebe nodded from down in the grass. “Yep. That’s where all this came from.” She held up an arm and pointed to the pink droplets matted into her fur.
“I see,” Setra said, nodding as she took in Sheebe’s body. “And where all these came from as well.” She flicked out her tongue against some of the small punctures in the shiba woman’s leg.
“Ah, that stings,” said Sheebe. She tried to pull her foot back and found that her leg had gone numb below the knee. “Wait, what?” She tried to bring her knee up to her chest, but even with her entire leg flexing she couldn’t get it past her waist. “Oh. That’s not good.”
Setra was enjoying the sight of so much meat wiggling around in front of her. “Looks fine to me,” she said absently.
With effort, Sheebe rose into a kneeling position. “No, no – it feels bad.” She gulped. “My arms
and legs are going numb.” There was a tremor in her voice and her brow was knitted in worry. “It h-hurt when you touched them just now.”
“Numb and painful? How strange.” Setra leaned closer, looking up and down Sheebe’s thick legs and flicking her tongue out inquisitively. Sheebe braced for more needling contact, but the snake didn’t touch her. “Yes, I’ve seen this before,” said Setra. “The vines of that plant you met have a strong poison. In small doses it’s just painful, but it looks like you got quite a lot.”
Sheebe gulped. “H-how do you know all this?”
Setra looked away. “Well, I, um . . . rescue victims of that plant.” She blinked. “Yes. Rescue. That’s the word.” She turned back to Sheebe. “You’ll need to get the poison out of your system if you want to survive.”
The dog woman shivered. “S-survive? You mean it’s gonna . . . g-gonna . . .”
“Hussshh,” said Setra, tapping her tail against Sheebe’s stammering mouth. She leaned in comfortingly, snaking softly around Sheebe’s shoulders. “I can help you. I know of a place that can heal all poisons,” she said in a voice like syrup.
“Really?” Sheebe’s eyes were wide and pleading. “P-please . . .”
Setra chuckled softly. “Don’t you worry one bit. The pleasure is all mine.” She slithered forward and brought the rest of her impressive purple body into the clearing. “Oh, but where are my manners?” The snake ran her eyes up and down Sheebe’s body in a mockery of concern as her own body flowed around Sheebe in a casual loop. “I haven’t even asked your name.” “M-my name’s Sheebe. Phoebe!” Sheebe’s heart skipped beat when she saw the wealth of dark, muscular scales ripple forward through the lush grass and over her legs. She stammered, trying not to let Setra’s imposing stare bother her. “That’s, um, my real name, but my friends c-call me Sheebe, so you can call me Phoebe or Sheebe— not that we’re friends— not that I don’t want to be friends—”
“Sssheebe,” Setra hissed softly. “My name is Sssetra and it’s very nice to meet you. I get the feeling we’ll be very close soon.”
Sheebe nodded, eager to please. “I hope so, Setra!”
She was about to continue when the snake’s coils tightened around her, lifting her up. She huffed in surprise as she rose to her feet. “Can you stand?” said Setra, relaxing her grasp and leaning closer.
Sheebe held onto Setra’s coils for balance like a hula hoop – a very strong, thick hula hoop – and found that she could stand, just barely. “Um, yeah. B-but I don’t think I can walk like this.” She leaned down stiffly to pick up the duffle bag, clenching her fingers around the strap like the branches of a sapling quivering in the wind. “Hrr . . .” Standing up was just as hard.
Setra leered and felt her stomach tense as she watched Sheebe straining herself. Oh, there was barely any stringy muscle under all that wonderful fat and meat. “Just let me take care of that,” the snake said. The lower half of her body swirled up over Sheebe’s legs and waist.
“Eep!” breathed Sheebe as she felt Setra’s purple body cover her own pale beige fur. She looked down to see her feet poking out from underneath a serpentine tube. Her arms were free but her new friend had an unbroken grasp on her from her belly to her ankles. “Oh,” she said in a small voice. The ground was about a metre under her feet but Setra clearly wasn’t going to drop her.
Setra’s head floated next to Sheebe’s, amber eyes like searchlights in a fog. “Comfortable, my little doggy?” asked Setra. Sheebe nodded, dumbstruck and a little nervous at the serpent’s power. “Then let’s not waste any more time!” She slithered deeper into the jungle with her prize in tow.
As Setra slithered along, Sheebe tried to keep her hands moving to fight the creeping numbness, but there was only so much she could do. Zipping up the bag would have been pointless with all the melting ice cream in it, so the shiba woman decided to sort through it and see if there was anything worth keeping. This is dumb, she thought, but the bag was the one thing keeping her tethered to a world without carnivorous plants and giant snakes and magical healing places.
All the cartons were soggy, as were the wrapped cones and ice cream bars. Sheebe dug through the bag, tossing away any leaky container and any wrapper that felt like a water balloon. One popsicle had fared better: beneath a shallow layer of creamy sludge was an Ultra-Deluxe Caramel Vanilla Fudge-Bomb-Sicle Twist™, double sized for Sharing With Friends™. Its wrapper was thin but intact, shielding it from the other flavours swirling around at the bottom of the bag.
It had been the crown jewel of Sheebe’s haul. A small smile crept onto the shiba’s face. Maybe there was still some order left in the world. “So what is this healing place, anyway?” she called to the snake over her shoulder, closing the bag.
“A hot ssspring!” Setra called back as she cut through the thick jungle undergrowth like a neon line. “The water comes from deep in the mountains and forms a giant bath in the rock. It’s absolutely wonderful for resting after a long day of hun— rescuing. A long day of rescuing.” The snake was telling the truth: there was a hot spring nearby and the water did have healing properties, although where exactly they came from was anyone’s guess.
Setra didn’t care. She just knew that her meals tasted better if she doused them in its waters, and relaxing in the hot spring with a full belly was one of her favourite pleasures. The serpent licked her lips at the thought.
Sheebe had been looking forward to a hot tub at the resort, which definitely did not have healing properties. Some part of her found the irony funny enough to laugh. Setra looked back curiously but didn’t say anything.
After a few more minutes, Setra pushed through a final wall of overgrown plants and slid to a stop. “Here we are,” she said, pulling Sheebe forward. The dog woman craned her neck, taking in the sight in front of her.
Setra rested on a sandy bank. It extended in front of her for a couple metres, sloping down to the top of a small lake full of blue, crystalline water that glowed where it reflected the sun’s light. Small steam clouds wafted over the water and curled smoky fingers down to the surface where they bounced back at the touch. Sheebe could feel the water’s raw heat even from where she was, and the pool was so clear she could see down to the bottom: maybe two metres at the deepest part in the middle, but comfortable wading depth everywhere else. The lakebed was smooth, pale sand.
Near the middle, a wide rock broke through the rippling water and made a nearly flat platform just above the waves. It looked ideal for sunbathing. A stone’s throw to the pair’s left was a steep wall of rock and earth. From its base came the gentle crash of a short waterfall, which spouted from a crack the rock face and plunged down into the lake. Opposite the waterfall, the spring funnelled into a narrow river which promptly disappeared into thick jungle.
“Wow,” said Sheebe.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Setra. “That rock in particular is one of my favourite sunning spots. Come on in and I’ll show you.” She unspooled her body from Sheebe, delicately lowering her back to the ground.
Sheebe crouched gingerly and fumbled with the laces on her boots until she got them off. Her socks practically fell off her feet. “What do you eat, anyway?” she asked once she had stood back up.
Setra barely managed to keep her composure. “Um.” She glanced back at the jungle. There was a banana bunch hanging from a tree. “Fruit.”
“Aw.” Sheebe deflated but reached into her bag anyway. “Then you might not like what I have.”
“Believe me,” Setra said intensely as her mouth watered, “that won’t be a problem.”
“Great! Then will you split this with me?” Sheebe held up her prize and peeled off the wrapper to reveal a double-sticked popsicle. The chocolate ice cream was crisscrossed with streaks of caramel and vanilla, and the whole thing contained a frightening amount of sugar.
Setra neared it hesitantly. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s an Ultra-Deluxe Caramel Vanilla Fudge-Bomb-Sicle Twist™,” grinned Sheebe.
“What.”
“An Ultra-Deluxe Caramel—”
“Yes, but what is it?”
Sheebe blinked. The ice cream was beginning to melt from all the ambient heat. “It’s a sweet treat from where I work,” she said. “‘Thick and tasty, guaranteed!’ like the rest of the menu. You’re being so nice to me that I thought you’d want to have a taste before it melts into mush.”
The serpent looked between Sheebe’s honest face and the brown-orange-white thing in her hand. “It’s food?” she asked.
“Well, maybe not real food – you couldn’t live off these. But it tastes great!” Sheebe pulled on the sticks, breaking the treat in two and holding one half out for Setra with a shaking hand. The snake flicked out her tongue. The thing smelled cold and sweet, but not in ways that Setra had words for. She licked it and decided it tasted good too. “Um—” was all Sheebe said before the snake’s giant mouth clamped down over both the popsicle and her hand.
Setra closed her eyes, savouring the flavour as she ran her tongue up and down her food. Her head writhed slowly around Sheebe’s hand, covering her digits and fur with saliva. The taste was exquisite: meaty, fatty, and tender. Not at all like the hardscrabble jungle animals she normally caught, and born from a life of luxury and too many sweets. Up and down and back and forth she went, eager to taste every detail.
Oh, and the popsicle was decent too. She swallowed it in a single mighty gulp, stick and all.
“S-Setra?” asked Sheebe, “Can I have my arm back?”
The serpent stopped. She opened her eyes. She slowly dragged her head back and released Sheebe’s hand with a slippery pop. “Pardon me for getting carried away,” she said as Sheebe looked at her now thoroughly damp arm.
“. . . Tastes good, then?” the shiba asked absently. Her own popsicle had melted and fallen off the stick.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Thick and tasty, just like you said.” Setra shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“No more time to stand around: in you go!”
Her tail flicked forward and poked Sheebe’s butt. The shiba woman squeaked, but the prod got her to wobble forward into the water. Setra swooped in, coiling her neck around Sheebe’s shoulders like a purple sash.
The water worked its magic as soon as it touched Sheebe’s toes. Her feet had gone so numb she could barely stand, but as each swishing step took her deeper into the spring she could feel the poison flushing out of her system. Warm pulses of blood ran through her legs, clearing the fuzzy numbness and leaving liquid heat in its place. It felt good.
“Ohhh,” Sheebe moaned as her eyes slid shut. The water was up to her waist now, lapping at the lower curve of her plump belly. She lowered her arms and let them sink into the spring where the blue currents swam around her fingers and palms, filling them with same heat as her legs. It felt really good. Her toes curled into the sand. “S-Setra . . .” she breathed, fumbling for words.
Setra slithered across Sheebe’s collar in a half-loop. “It can feel better,” she said in dulcet tones.
Sheebe half opened her eyes. “Better?” she asked as though she’d woken up from a nap.
“Oh, yesss.” The snake nodded, sliding to her other ear. “Do you want me to help?”
Sheebe was so relaxed she’d have agreed to anything, especially with Setra’s smooth scales sliding over the back of her neck and sending shivers down her spine. “Y-yes, please,” she mumbled.
Setra had pulled the rest of her body behind Sheebe as she waded into the spring, and her purple coils sloshed through the water towards their target. The dog woman was about halfway to the sunning rock in the middle of the lake. “Sssay no more,” the snake hissed softly. She slid a few coils around one of Sheebe’s arms and began to work her own flavour of magic.
Sheebe distantly felt Setra loop herself around one arm but she didn’t think anything of it until the snake squeezed and forced the bands of scaly muscle into Sheebe’s soft flesh. “Gh—!” Sheebe gasped softly. Her surprise quickly left as she realized what Setra was doing: this was a massage.
The snake’s coils cinched and rustled down Sheebe’s arms like supple leather, gently pressing into her fur and the skin underneath like a slow, implacable tide. The effect was entrancing, and it only got better when Setra loosened her grip and let Sheebe’s circulation return. The shooting warmth of her blood and the caressing warmth of the spring water flowed through and over the dog woman’s arm.
“Mmm,” Sheebe moaned.
A smug smile crept onto Setra’s face. “There’s more where that came from.” The serpent shifted her body in the water, tossing small currents of water against Sheebe’s chubby lower body as she formed into a series of menacing purple loops under the surface. The loops curled lithely around Sheebe’s legs before cinching just as they had for her arm – slow, gentle, totally unstoppable. The same tender cycle of squeezes and warmth quickly covered Sheebe’s legs.
Sheebe couldn’t bring herself to moan this time. Just like her body sinking into the deepest part of the spring, her mind sank into an all-covering warmth that shaped itself to every contour of her body like lavish cloth. She panted slowly and hotly as the serpentine rhythm dominated each of her limbs, mumbling half-words and pleasured noises. The shiba woman hadn’t even noticed herself come to lean against the sunning rock.
But Setra had. From her perch on her quarry’s neck, she had a firsthand view of Sheebe melting into putty in her thick coils. The serpent’s mouth curled into a predatory grin. Her tongue flicked out eagerly, taking in every part of the foggy, luscious heat rising from Sheebe’s body.
She would eat well tonight.
Setra’s serpentine rhythm continued its slow, grinding pace up and down Sheebe’s body until her limbs had well and truly been wrung out. She blinked her eyes open even as the serpent continued to flex her coils with no sign of stopping. “Setra?” Sheebe asked, glancing down at herself.
“Sssomething the matter?” Setra’s lovely voice came from right next to Sheebe’s ear.
“I . . . I think I’m done. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Sheebe looked over at the waterfall on one end
of the spring. “Mind if I rinse off?”
Setra didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, reluctantly: “Is this not to your liking?” She sounded hurt.
“No, no!” Sheebe waved her arms (or tried to – they were about thrice as heavy as usual). “I just want to clean myself off before I leave.”
Setra knew leaving was the one thing her guest wouldn’t be doing, but she didn’t want to press the issue. She had tenderized her for long enough – let the dog have a bit of time to herself, why not. The snake’s head leaned back from Sheebe’s. “Of courssse – but do come back to see me once you’re finished, won’t you?” She began to uncurl herself slowly from Sheebe’s body, slithering and dragging her supple scales through the shiba’s fur.
Sheebe nodded even as her legs twitched under Setra’s touch. “Oh, for sure!” Setra finished disentangling herself from Sheebe’s limbs and slithered onto the sunning rock where she began to settle into a round pile.
Sheebe, feeling much lighter now, waded over to the waterfall. The water receded down to her knees as she crossed the distance, letting her breasts, belly, and ass sag slightly in their usual way. Sheebe stepped into the steamy stream of water.
For the first time since she had turned on the AC in the overheated ice cream truck, Sheebe felt peaceful. She was warm, much warmer than the truck had been, but the sloshing water running over her body felt like it was steaming the dust and dirt off her heart – a far cry from hotboxing in a stuffy cab. She ran her hands through her straight hair, sighing as the heat cut through it like a liquid knife. Her fingers pressed into her scalp and rinsed out the last remnants of the pitcher plant’s pink fog.
Sheebe looked down at herself and realized that she was still wearing her lacy lingerie. The poor fabric had stretched and slipped down her tits, scrunching against the bottom curve where they met her ribs. Her pale pink nipples sat on display like two tarts on a platter. The same was true of her panties: where they had sat enticingly high on her hips, they were now ragged and stretched out to the sides of her thighs, resting perilously low – almost low enough for someone to see her pussy peeking out from under them.
Sheebe blushed and glanced over her shoulder at Setra, but if the serpent was ogling her she didn’t show it. The shiba woman turned back to the rock, chastising herself. Of course she doesn’t care – she’s a wild animal, for goodness’ sakes! And besides, that massage she gave you wouldn’t have felt much different even if you’d been naked.
The shiba gulped softly as her mind wandered. What would it have felt like? She shook her head. No time for that. She had a long, miserable hike ahead of her. Huxley had probably returned to the truck and found her note by now, which meant—
She froze. Which means he probably thinks I made it to the resort ahead of him!
Setra had just settled into a good sunning pose when frantic splashing caught her attention. She glanced at the waterfall and saw Sheebe tearing back towards her through the water. Her tits bounced wildly as she kicked up small waves.
It was shallower on this side of the rock, so Sheebe was only up to her thighs when she reached it. “Setra!” she gasped, “You’ve got to help me find the road!”
Setra blinked. “Road?” That was definitely not in her plan.
“Yes, the road!” Sheebe told her about the note she had left for Huxley and what he had probably thought it meant. “He must think I’m at the resort, and he’s probably driving there now!”
The serpent considered what Sheebe had told her. “So, he’s probably gone far away from where your truck stopped.”
“Yes!”
“And he might have trouble finding his way back to where it broke down.”
“Yes!”
A small shudder which Sheebe mistook for concern worked its way down Setra’s body. “So he wouldn’t know where to start looking for you.”
“Yes!”
“That is . . .” Setra flicked her tongue. “. . . Quite the set of circumstances.”
“Yes!” wailed Sheebe. She wavered back and forth, anxious to leave but with nowhere to go. “Oh, he’ll be so worried about me! I’ve got to get back there as soon as I can!” She started around the rock in the direction of the shore.
“Jussst a moment, little doggy,” said Setra. Her tail reached out and wound around Sheebe’s wrist.
Sheebe was yanked to a halt. “Wh— Hey!” Her free hand shot to the snake’s tail and tried to unwind it. “Setra, I don’t have time for this.”
“I disssagree.” Setra leaned forward over the warm rock. “You are in no shape to be going anywhere, little doggy.”
Sheebe shot an annoyed glance at the snake. “You know my name, Setra.”
Setra’s tail crept further up Sheebe’s arm. “I do, but right now you’re acting like a scared little doggy. It’s true,” she said when Sheebe gave an indignant glare. “You’re angry and panicked and not thinking straight. Exactly the same problems you had that brought us together in the first place.” Setra’s head floated forward as her neck formed into a small loop. She perched atop Sheebe’s head despite the shiba’s squirming.
“I can’t just stay here,” Sheebe said. “And what are you doing?”
“Reminding you of some common sense: there’s no point in running if you can’t see where you’re going.” Setra’s slid snugly down over Sheebe’s eyes.
“Hey!” Sheebe protested, pawing at the blindfold with her free hand. Setra’s tail had imprisoned her other arm up to the shoulder.
“There’s sssomething elssse you should know, Sheebe,” the serpent gloated.
“And what’s that?” Sheebe’s patience was wearing thin.
“One way or another, the jungle provides – and today it provided me with precccisssely what I wanted.”
“And what’s that?” The shiba’s blindfold lifted, but not from her own power.
“You.”Setra’s head swung down in front of Sheebe’s face. The serpent’s amber eyes had been replaced by swirling colours: amber poured out from her pupil, quickly followed by bright red and bright blue before melting back into amber again. The dazzling display made each of Setra’s eyes look as though it had been divided in half.
“What d—” was all Sheebe managed before the colours pierced her meagre mental defences and commanded her attention. “Wh . . .Wh . . .”
“That’sss it. Just keep looking,” Setra hissed, rocking her head back and forth slowly as the colours spilled out in captivating waves. “My eyes are so pretty, don’t you think?”
“P- . . .” Sheebe formed the sound on imitation alone, pursing her lips blankly.
“Yesss, pretty,” said Setra. “Just relax and watch my eyes.” She began pushing and pulling Sheebe back towards the rock. Every tug she repeated her mantra: “Just relax, just relax.”
Sheebe kept trying to reach for words and say something to Setra, but there were a thousand little interruptions: the snake’s eyes pulsed to red, “Just relax,” tug back on her head, slither tighter, now to blue, “Just relax,” scales creeping up her arm and squeezing like they had squeezed before to make her feel good, pulse to amber, “Just relax,” hissing tones that swept around her ears like smoke, now to red, “Just relax,” Sheebe stepped back.
The loop repeated what felt like a dozen times but Sheebe couldn’t count because she tried to reach for a number and it flew out of her brain like a candy wrapper. The shiba felt her heels trundle through the sand, nearly tripping over muscular thickness in the water around her feet. “S-S-Setra . . .” she mumbled in a weak voice even as the serpent’s tail crept up from her shoulder and tapped her lips.
“Husssh,” the serpent whispered with a flick and a trill of her tongue. Her eyes sped up. Blue.
Sheebe tried to struggle but ever new pulsing wave of colour pushed her back down. Amber. Gently, ever so gently, not hurting her but not letting her leave. She had wanted to leave because there was something red she had to go and get. Red? No, something else, something blue. Blue like the water – the water felt good. She had found it, but was it amber? No, no, it was supposed to be red. There was a hiss, soft and right in front of her under the colours. Gentle again. She listened to it and it told her to relax and be still and back up and please step up onto that rock wouldn’t you and she obeyed because it was gentle just like the gentle weight that settled around her and it was warm like the spring water had been when Setra squeezed her (little fireworks and twitches because the squeeze had been very good) but the spring water and the old coils had flowed back and forth and tight and loose but this was different because it never stopped and the warmth just kept pouring down into her eyes and back over her mind and she couldn’t think but that was okay because it was very warm just like the squeeze had been very good and she wanted more squeezes pleases could she have more the hiss said yes and she said thank you and the hiss kept hissing and Sheebe’s thoughts melted into a slurry.
“You’re welcome – hsshsshss!” Setra could barely contain her laughter. Were all outlanders this easy? She had barely been hypnotizing the fat little dog woman for a few minutes and her mind was already melting just the way her body had been. Speaking of which, the shiba’s belly was proving just as pleasing to touch as her limbs had: soft, pliant meat that was deep enough for her coils to sink into. Setra’s purple scales ran over Sheebe’s form, squeezing oh so softly and lulling her deeper even as her eyes did their usual work.
The two were firmly on top of the sunning rock now: the serpent rested in the middle of it and her prey sat atop her coils like a living chair. Setra had raised her head to loom over Sheebe’s as more coils circled up over her legs and onto her tummy. The shiba woman was twirled lazily like a handful of meat being wrapped on a counter, eyes locked upward onto the warmth and bliss that Setra poured down onto her.
The green in Sheebe’s eyes had been eclipsed by Setra’s amber, red, and blue, pushing out of her own pupils in buzzing rings. Her head felt warm. It was good. She smiled. “M-more . . .” she begged. She was almost too weak to speak.
Setra was happy to oblige. One of her coils slipped between Sheebe’s legs and her scales slid against the shiba’s pussy. Her next beg turned into a moan as she ground herself against the purple muscle between her legs. Her panties pulled, stretched, and snapped. The old Sheebe would have been mortified at being this nude, but the new Sheebe was a mindless pleasure doll who knew only Mistress Setra and the colours and the hiss that made her feel good from her toes to her nose.
The serpent finally decided to ease up. Her eyes strobed one final time before the colours slid out the edges. Her handiwork was clear: Sheebe was trapped up to her tits in snakeflesh, supple and smoky. Setra’s lustrous scales pressed into the shiba around her legs and arms. She squeezed rhythmically, feeling the give in Sheebe’s body as her sensitive belly scales pressed in just so: never too tight in any place but never enough for her meal to squirm. Not that she’d want to escape – Sheebe’s eyes were glassy underneath the snake’s colours, pulsing along as though she had never stopped. Pleasured whispers spilled out of the dog woman’s mouth.
Almost perfect. Setra leaned down and bit Sheebe’s bra, ripping it away. Perfect.
Sheebe looked down dumbly at her own tits as though she had never seen them before. Setra took the chance to do the same from a much closer perspective. She dove onto Sheebe’s chest and shoved her mouth over an entire breast, suckling and straining her cheeks like a newborn.
Oh, it was sublime. Meaty, buttery, sweet undercurrent. Enough playing around.
Setra slowly withdrew her mouth from Sheebe’s boob. The pink nipple was now stiff and she flicked it with her tongue greedily. Setra’s head rose back up to be level with Sheebe, whose panting had grown hotter. “Doggy,” she said, “can you hear me?” Sheebe’s mouth pursed into a tame O. She nodded clumsily.
Setra smiled. “Good. I’m going to eat you in a moment, and when I do I want you to do something for me.” Sheebe nodded again. “When I start, I want you to take a deep breath. Can you do that?”
Sheebe didn’t nod this time. Setra cupped the top of her head with her tail, nodding for her. “Yes. Yes, you can.”
“Y-yes,” Sheebe mumbled.
“Good. Now after you take that deep breath, there’s just one more thing you need to do: you’re going to cum. Do you want to cum?” She slid her scales against Sheebe’s pussy for emphasis.
Sheebe remembered how to nod. “Yes,” she said.
“And when you ssstart cumming,” Setra continued in a lilting voice, “you aren’t going to ssstop until the end of your days.” The snake glanced at the sky. “Or sundown. Same thing,” she snickered.
“Mmm-hmm,” Sheebe droned again.
“Now tell me what I’m going to do.”
“Gonna eat me.”
“Yes, because you make very good snake food. What next?”
“D-. . . Deep breath.”
“And the lassst thing you’ll ever do?”
“Cum.” Sheebe would never have uttered such vulgarity before meeting Setra.
Setra’s eyes twinkled. “Exssselent.”
Setra moved to hover directly over Sheebe’s head. “Sssay goodbye, doggy.”
“Goodbye, do—” Sheebe said before the snake’s maw pressed onto her head. She reacted immediately as her entire body stiffened into an iron bar and raw, molten pleasure shot through her. The water and the flashing colours had been nothing compared to this roiling heat. She moaned into the wet crush of Setra’s throat, writhing and shaking in her scaly bonds.
Setra got halfway to Sheebe’s neck before she had to slow down, but that just gave her more time to savour the taste. As the serpent’s purple skin expanded to cover Sheebe, she slid down one inch at a time until her nose was pressed against the dog woman’s shoulders. Setra stretched her jaw as snakes do and felt it adjust painlessly. She continued to press down, moving from neck to collarbone to chest.
Sheebe’s head had been an appetizer – a light taste, a bit sweet – but her torso was the real prize. Setra’s eyes rolled back in her head when her neck scales first bulged and strained to get around the shiba’s big breasts. The meat was supple and warm from her time in the spring, but with a bit of the wonderful firmness the snake only got from live prey that wriggled in her jaws.
And wriggle Sheebe did. Her face had pressed into Setra’s throat by now and a mewling, panting imprint worked its way towards Setra’s tail with every inch the serpent took in.
Setra gummed and gnawed at the mouthful – the throatful of warm flesh passing over her tongue.
Every pinch and cinch of Setra’s vast, muscular body made her prey jolt, which jiggled her boobs deliciously now that Setra had gotten them both into her mouth. She took a moment to gulp down the damp, meaty ball that Sheebe had become.
The gulp brought Setra to her prey’s large belly, which was even larger than her boobs – but that just meant more meat. The snake descended with gluttonous abandon as her jaws worked their way down to Sheebe’s belly and then ever so slowly over it. She had to walk her head downwards, pushing one corner of her jaw forward at a time. Back in the serpent’s bulging throat, the dog woman writhed under a tight layer of snakeskin.
Setra had never been this full before. Her eyes glazed over, unfocusing as her taste buds revelled in the mindless carnivorous pleasure. This was bliss. This was what she lived for.
But slowly the snake’s senses returned to her, and she continued gulping down her victim, who was now reduced to a giant ass and a pair of quivering legs. Setra reared back on the rock, lifting the dog woman’s heavy butt up. The snake’s tail rose as well. She drew it back, then whipped Sheebe’s ass hard enough to send a jiggle rocking across both wide cheeks.
“Mnnph!” came a muffled, manic scream from somewhere beneath Setra’s jaw. Another slap, another scream. On the third strike, Sheebe’s scream turned into a moan, and it got deeper on the fourth. The fifth slap sent a fresh wave of ragged, toe-curling orgasm ripping through her. Setra took the cue and changed from slapping to fucking.
Her tail slid into Sheebe’s pussy, piercing the quivering womanhood like it belonged nowhere else. Setra could feel her meal’s pleasure very clearly now, and she had made good on her promise to cum. The snake slid her tail back and forth into Sheebe, fucking her gently in rhythm with her gulps.
With gravity helping, every snaky thrust drove the shiba deeper and deeper into her doom. One smidgen at a time, Setra’s lips slowly crept over Sheebe’s ass (just as filling, but creamy instead of buttery – interesting!) and covered yet more of her in smoky purple. The only things left poking out of the serpent’s mouth were a pair of thick thighs and two canine feet that swayed like their owner was entranced.
Setra fucked Sheebe deeper into herself until the dog woman’s pussy vanished into her throat. She withdrew her slick tail, pressed her tongue against it and found the taste very satisfying. She gave a slow, luxuriant gulp and enjoyed the feeling of such a large meal sinking down her gullet. Then only her meal’s calves were left. Not exactly the main attraction, but far from bitter. Gulp. Feet only. Gulp. No more Sheebe.
The snake gulped one final time and looked down at herself, swollen with the kind of meal she’d need a week to sleep off. Lucky for her, she had her favourite sunning spot to do exactly that. “Thank you, doggy,” Setra said as her meal softly writhed in her purple veil of death. “I will always remember your taste and your kindness.”
Setra arranged her coils into a circle around the edge of the rock, basking in the sunlight with her new bulge in the centre and her head resting comfortably on top of it. She didn’t plan to fall asleep just yet – after all, watching the slow, gurgling descent her meals made was half the fun. Sheebe’s face was still visible against the pale, stretched purple of her belly.
She was so focused on her recent victory that she didn’t near the soft swishing sound of a man quietly moving through water until he was right on top of her. The serpent jerked her head around, in no condition to fight.
White-hot fury bristled on Huxley’s skin. He gripped a heavy wrench in one hand. “You have ten seconds,” he said.
Setra swallowed – nervously, for a change – and glanced around. “Y-you must b—”
Huxley’s free hand snapped to her throat. “Nine.”
Sheebe woke up slowly, but before she had opened her eyes she recognized the hum and sway of the ice cream truck. She blinked sleepily as she watched the vivid green jungle scroll past the windshield. She was wrapped in a blanket and slouched in the passenger seat. She looked over to the driver seat where Huxley was carefully navigating the truck through the final stretch to the resort. “Huxley?”
He looked at her with a smile. “Sheebe! I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“What—” she coughed. Her throat was so dry. There was a water bottle in the drink holder. She took it and drank. “What happened?”
Huxley’s smile strained a bit as he looked back at the road. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Sheebe took another sip of water. “Um, there was a hot spring, and this big snake, and she . . .” her voice withered. “She tried to . . . well . . .”
“It’s okay, babe. You don’t need to tell me about it. I saw what happened.”
Her eyes widened. “You did? How?” She put her head in her hands. “Oh, forget it – I’m so sorry for being stupid and wandering off the road like that. You told me to wait and I just got so fed up with the heat and the engine problems and—”
Huxley stopped the truck. He gently pulled her hands away and looked her in the eye. “Sheebe, you’re safe now. That’s all that matters. Don’t worry about it.”
Sheebe sniffed. “Y-you’re right. Thank you.” She managed a weak grin.
Huxley nuzzled his nose against hers, then turned back to the road and put the truck in gear. “As for how I found you, that was pretty simple – you took a bunch of ice cream treats with you, right?” Sheebe nodded. “Well, you must have dropped a few of them. There were these giant clouds of bugs that I could see from the road when I got back to the truck.”
“Oh. But what about the note? How’d you know I had wandered into the jungle instead of walking to the resort?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What note?”
Sheebe leaned forward in her seat, looking around. “Aha!” She reached down and picked up the note from its place on the floor. “This one. I left it to tell you I’d gone to the hotel.”
Huxley chuckled. “Good thing I didn’t find it, then.”
“I’ll say.” Sheebe crumpled the note up and tossed it under her seat before turning to the side window. The late afternoon sun hung in the sky above the trees, golden and merciless. Sheebe furrowed her brow as she looked at it. It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t place it.
(“Or sundown. Same thing.”)
A bolt of pleasure rocked up from her womanhood. Sheebe felt her legs clench. She gasped.
“Something the matter, hon?” asked Huxley.
“H-Hux. How long until sundown?”
“By my watch . . . four or five hours. Why?”
Sheebe whined.