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Qhala had never bothered to name her new companion. What could you name a ten-foot-tall beast with mottled green skin, yellowed tusks the size of your thighs, and a penchant for rape on a genocidal level? Qhala didn't know. She settled for pet names.

A pet was all the beast really was. She had tamed its stupid and mighty lust with her overwhelming snake sexuality. His gigantic cock left her tight holes slack and ingrained the metallic, salty taste of semen in her taste buds, but these were not even minor prices to pay, for Qhala found such sexual aftermath to be wonderful benefits to her new relationship. Properly tamed and learning to behave a little more with each day, the incuwine proved to be a valuable companion in travels and carnal arts.

"Stop here, dear," Qhala warmly said, putting a hand on her pet's low-hanging gut. A mere touch like so wouldn't stop him by force, but obedience saw him go still. He snorted and took in his surroundings vacantly.

On the horizon was a town, windows glowing in the night like beacons. It promised any number of things, but safe harbor for the incuwine was, she was certain, not among them. (Privately, she didn't think she could distract the monster well enough to keep it from going on a sticky, sweaty spree across a sleepy town.)

Leading her companion by the hand and occasionally enticing him a little with a sway of her hips or a rub on his genitals (which were conspicuous under a burlap loincloth she'd made for him), Qhala searched briefly for a dwelling in which to board the beast as she went to seek out supplies and work.

What she found was ideal: a spacious cavern of limestone near the base of a waterfall. Within was an angry grizzly bear, fat with cubs. The sight of the incuwine saw her flee, low-hanging teats nearly dragging the ground.

"I feel the least bit unkind for that," Qhala tutted, though smiling. "Perhaps she can rest here again after your tenancy is concluded."

The incuwine settled into the new cave at once, shoving aside all manner of animal detritus. Qhala did not watch closely, but as well-traveled as she was, she clearly recognized the dry clatter and scrape of old bones.

It seemed briefly like the incuwine was going to settle down on the cave floor and rest. Qhala knew him well enough to know that he was going to masturbate in her absence, if not do unenviable things to the mama bear if she dared to come back to try and reclaim her nest.

"Do behave while I'm away," Qhala clucked, patting the pigbeast's belly. A hollow smack echoed in the damp darkness of the cave. The incuwine snuffled, face dumb and unreadable.

The cobra hadn't made it three feet away when her porcine pet reached out for her. He was inelegant; she felt him coming through the subtle shift in the air and tensed accordingly. She didn't flinch at his chubby fingers grasping her middle, neither when he towed her back and ultimately into his chubby bulk.

Qhala chuckled. "This isn't what I would call behaving," said Qhala, then she gave him the verbal finger wag instead of the physical one: a sigh. "Must I always placate you before leaving your sight? I know you're aware that your hands can do the same, just as they did before we crossed paths..."

A snort, but whether it was coy or petulant or just dumbly instinctive was a mystery. All that Qhala could tell for sure was that the beast wanted her in the most lurid of ways, a sentiment which became perfectly clear when his fat fingers started to grind broadside into the lips of her cunt. He licked his tusks, smearing fresh slobber over dozens of dried coatings of the same. It congealed on his stained ivory and dribbled in twin runners down to the stone floor.

Really, Qhala had never intended to say no. She wasn't in the habit of doing so - not with her new pet, not with most any male whose interests she piqued. The thick green finger grinding against her folds, forcing her to grow wet, merely sped along the process. She grasped his hand, grinding her formidable hips into his clumsy digit. "Terribly naughty," Qhala chided, smiling. "You're quite lucky indeed that I like you so."

The incuwine snorted. Humid, hot breath washed over Qhala's face, making her frown but not wince. Teaching the monster any manners beyond not raping livestock was proving to be a lost cause.

But no matter how stupidly brutish the pigbeast was, Qhala wanted him. Her insistence in humping his finger was testament to that desire. She found that she savored the calloused flesh and how it scuffed and scraped the delicate and mildly luminescent lips of her vagina. Her honey oozed across his finger, making coarse flesh slick and movements more free, leading into a cycle of grinding and fingering which went on and on until the beast notched his fingertip into her.

With the sensation of a fat finger against her supple inner pinkness, Qhala couldn't help but gasp. She smiled impishly, nearly grinning, clenching her thighs around his hand but to no avail against his horrible strength. "It's so difficult to tell if any pleasures you give me are luck, or intentional on your part... mmm, I suppose if the result is the same, the intent makes no difference."

Another snort. To Qhala it seemed like a sound agreement and not a random noise. Chuckling and smiling, galvanized but made not the least bit sluggish by pleasure, she pushed against the incuwine's wrist and freed herself from his insistent fingering. Her gaze fixed on the monster's erection; that long and mottled and oddly-textured cock with its vaguely prehensile muscles and overabundant stench of masculinity. Qhala loved the endowment of her pet. Each lay was a special treat.

She pressed up to him, wrapping an arm around the bulk of his belly. Soft white hairs bristled against her hide and the sweat caked on the beast's greenish flesh made her stick slightly to him. She peppered kisses on his gut even as she took hold of his penis, the peculiar form of which defied most conventional cock-stroking measures. She settled then as she always did for worshipful rubs, her soft black hide loping along the cockflesh, smearing the natural lubrication falling from the tip all along the shaft. To her ministrations, the incuwine snuffled and growled.

Qhala crooned, "What a perfectly handsome beast you are. So much of you to love." She laughed, earning a curious aside glance. Qhala met his rheumy eyes without fear and she boosted herself on the tips of her toes, just managing to peck a kiss on his bottom mandible. He blinked and recoiled after the fact.

Small doses of affection would bring the beast around, she hoped. It was why she gave him kisses and rubs and showed other displays of tenderness even when a fuck wasn't on the line.

But where love and sweetness were fine and well, Qhala still wanted sex just as badly as the incuwine. It was no longer about putting him down for a proverbial nap; the slutty snake had a vested interest in the matter. Holding fast on his tapering, slimy cock in one hand, palming around his hip and great fat ass with the other, Qhala rubbed her wet muff against the chubby plain of his thigh and thought aloud, "All the times you've had your way with me, but not once have I tasted you. That must change."

She kissed the tip of the incuwine's penis, from which beads of pre fell like raindrops off a rooftop. Qhala caught them; soaked her tongue in them; shivered at their bitter flavor. Some people said strong cheeses were an acquired taste, but Qhala felt that unwashed, beastly cock required a vastly more refined palate. She suckled her ripe pet's member almost daintily and fondled the many inches not yet stuffed in her mouth. Her hide glided over his flesh on a buffer of sweat not yet congealed and drool running down from her dutiful maw.

Overhead, the incuwine snorted - but upward, for once not spraying Qhala. The cobra was much too occupied to note this pleasant fact. She stroked down and over his scrotum now, hefting not one gonad or the other but the sum of their parts, fondling the wrinkled hide-flesh and loving its bulk and pulsation. It was not an overstatement to say Qhala deeply loved her new companion.

Newfound manners or no, the pig was still an uncouth beast. He belched with force enough to make Qhala flinch (she would never admit to the tiny, brief smirk she gained), scratched a persistent itch on his gut, and fell back onto his tubby behind. The quick-footed Qhala didn't bowl over on top of him, instead doing what she found most loathsome: she let go of his cock and allowed it to slip away from her. At first she was mildly annoyed that her companion cum pet disregarded her so obviously in the middle of a blowjob. She didn't stay that way for more than a moment. His new, prone position offered countless new pleasures.

She shed the thin, unprotective clothing which hid only the lewdest parts of her body then knelt between the splayed green thighs of her pet, bracing her palms on either leg to slow herself. A gentle heave from the incuwine saw Qhala's lips bump the tip of his cock and she capitalized on the moment to give his slippery flesh a smooch.

Tail swishing back and forth above her magnificent hips, and with the markings on her body beginning to glow in reaction to her rising lust, Qhala cupped the sweaty sack which was the incuwine's scrotum and lifted it off the cold cave floor. "Mmm, so thick and full," said the cobra, hauling them as high as they could comfortably go; the pigbeast had quite a lot of slack in that regard. She leaned down to meet them in midair and began to drag her tongue across their hairless hide, depositing saliva in the crevices of the wrinkles.

The incuwine snuffled and growled. Qhala took it as positive encouragement, a subtle cue from her pet to up the ante. And so Qhala dipped her hooded head lower, bumping her nostrils into the hide. She lacked the heat pits of her slithering ancestors but retained the powerfully sensitive nose. With such a keen sense of smell came deep, nearly abiding pleasure from musk. She had an affinity for the natural smell of a male body; the stronger the better. Upon and around the pigbeast's ballbag was a great concentration of such musk and Qhala was nothing if not determined to savor it down to the last whiff.

It had been her intention to lick the beast's balls, perhaps suckle them if she felt the urge to open her jaws more than what was polite, but she found herself nosing lower. To anybody watching it would have seemed like the cobra had planned such an excursion all along, but she was making it all up as she went along. She took her left hand off the monster's scrotum, putting her palm on the rock floor for support.

Her nose followed the channel of the incuwine's perineum. Her right hand joined her left on the floor and the beast's ballbag spilled across her features. Fleshy hide dense with musk slopped over her face, hiding from her eyes the meager moonlight in the cave. It mattered not to Qhala; she followed her nose all the way down the bullseye.

Qhala found that the thickness of the beast's musk grew thicker as she neared his anus, but the steady rise was thrown out the window when her nostrils were against it. The scent was nearly overbearing to even a dyed-in-the-wool slut such as herself. She gave the pucker a lick, but tentatively. A second and a third just for the sake of nice, round figures, and then she licked up along the taint she had just followed downward.

Feeling equal parts reluctance as relief, the cobra slut pulled back and freed her head from the humid embrace of the incuwine's taint. Well aware of the sweat gleaming on her face and liking it just where it was, she climbed over her apathetic companion, bumping his penis with her loins, tweaking it. This elicited only a snort from the monster.

The incuwine glanced down his body as Qhala jockeyed for position, jabbing feet and palms and elbows into the impenetrable blubber on his belly. She was shifting around on him, and the purpose of this repositioning became clear even in his milky eyes: when the position permitted, she swiftly engulfed his penis in her slick and deceptively spacious maw. A gentle whore moan from her made his cock reverberate in her maw; her velvet tongue stroked and teased and even wrapped around to squeeze the meat. The incuwine enjoyed all of this and more: he was staring intently at Qhala's bottom, underneath the taper of her tail, which she held purposefully high.

Merely sucking her pet's meat would have been enough for Qhala, whose grand plans included swallowing the entirety of it all the way down to the balls. But the bait she offered was taken almost immediately when the beast grabbed her behind. His fingers, chubby and clumsy, rubbed too hard and dented her hide, adding mild bruises to her dominantly black and purple complexion. Qhala barely noticed. She was delighted by his proactivity.

The tips of the beast's fat, stupid fingers slid between Qhala's ass cheeks. A calloused pad dragged over her anus, a swollen pink thing, but nevertheless a well-trained orifice sensitive to even klutzy pleasures. Qhala breathed sharply through her nostrils and pushed herself harder, forcing the head of the incuwine's cock against the opening to her throat.

What Qhala was trying to do was outside the pigbeast's comprehension, but he understood pleasure, and he understood that he liked the snake's body. His fingers slid down, out of the crack of her ass and across the lips her cunt. There she was slick and incredibly hot; her cuntlips were luminescent like a pink beacon and the pig was intrinsically drawn to play with them. So he rubbed; pushed; pinched. And as he played with Qhala's cunt, earning more and more animated reactions from the girl, he rolled his hips in an unconscious attempt to breed the fuckhole which was her throat.

It was just the push Qhala needed. It took only a few of those firm grinds along with her own pushing for the tapering tip of the incuwine's cock to pierce her throat. Qhala, whose jaws could part for a knot and whose throat was trained to take the overwhelming flare of a stallion's penis, did not meet the sudden penetration with a gag or even a moistening of her eyes. Yet her cunt, already wet, grew considerably more damp against the incuwine's fingertips. Her markings glowed brighter still in the dim cave.

Whether luck or intent, the incuwine pushed a finger into Qhala. Appropriately, it was the middle finger, and its long reach took it deep into Qhala, tickling the depths of her birth canal with its uncaring bulk. The cobra pushed downward steadily, letting her sucks fall to the wayside and her tongue rest; the muscles in her throat did the heavy lifting.

What made going down so far on the incuwine odd was the vaguely prehensile nature of his penis. Qhala was used to twitching, fat cocks in her throat, but this one squirmed and even seemed to tickle. It prodded at the inner flesh of her esophagus even as it drooled pre toward her stomach ceaselessly. It was as thrilling as it was bizarre, but the two overlapped so often in Qhala's world that she took away only pleasure from the feeling.

The incuwine rolled his hips more firmly, his thick behind making an excellent cushion to push off of with each drop. His fingering was lazy at best, given how he wasn't pumping her or feeling around but simply letting it stay inside of her. The knuckles of his other fingers rested on her clitoris; his thumb pushed absently against the pucker of her anus. His other hand fondled her with the same brusque, overly rough eagerness as before, leaving minor bruises as he touched and squeezed her curves.

Though the rolling hips of the incuwine weren't as helpful as Qhala would have liked, she appreciated the eagerness. With hands braced on the beast's thighs, she let her hooded head rise and fall steadily. Drool fell from her lips; her throat throbbed around the invading cockflesh much as her pussy did the same (albeit much more pleasantly for her) around the finger. She curled her toes up near the dumb pigbeast's fat breasts, greater in size but much less aesthetically pleasing than her own. She was, all in all, quite glad she had taken the beast in in the first place.

Little snorts and snuffles from the incuwine had been the norm, but now Qhala heard a strained squeal. The monster bucked sharply against her and the powerful muscles in his thighs under all that fat hide tensed in a way the snake noticed. A smile tugged up the corners of her overtaxed mouth and her markings grew momentarily brilliant with pleasure.

Deep within Qhala's cunt, the incuwine's finger tensed and curled. He seemed to be gripping her, pinching her by the snatch. Her clit was forced into the rough ridges of his knuckles, causing Qhala to wince and shudder. Like glowing embers, her markings brightened and leveled off again, doing so frequently but with no rhythm.

As much a creature of instinct as he was, the incuwine was not immune to the ravages of pleasure. He sought it without realizing it; Qhala was just one of many shapes pleasure took for him. It was not her flawless body that drew him in, as it did to creatures of intelligence, but just the fact that she was there and fuckable. He gyrated without knowing what an efficient or lewd gesture it was; he squeezed and rubbed her cunt not understanding that he was directly making her more wet and desperate, but simply because he wanted to touch the slick pinkness inside of her. And he didn't exactly comprehend that he was in the snake's throat and not some other orifice, but it proved not to matter; he was on the cusp of an orgasm.

A noise like a squeal brayed out of the monster, flying free with spittle and foul breath. He bucked up, his cock pulsating in the final throes of sex before the climax. His prehensile penis rubbed and explored its present home, plumbing the depths of the snake's warm esophagus. Gratitude to the snake and her slutty ways were beyond him, but pleasure was perfectly in his reach. Gripping Qhala so tight that she winced and helplessly thrust her legs akimbo, he blasted into her maw with the angry force of a geyser. Semen, thick and sloppy, sloshed down into her gullet and not a drop was wasted.

The free hand of the beast pawed at the floor, leaving swirls in the dust. He was no longer bucking but simply holding his bottom up off the stone, keeping that squat-like posture until the climax peaked and began to taper off, making cockflesh oversensitive and muscles gelatinous. His ass slammed into the cave floor with tectonic force and Qhala, falling with him, gulped suddenly on his penis and avoided biting down only through years of temperance and experience; she was unflappable in the art of cocksucking.

Qhala could tell once the beast settled and the slithering mass of its penis began to doze and retract that her duties to the incuwine were through. One small matter remains, she thought, elegant even as she took her sore jaws off the withering length of her pet's penis, and even with her own orgasm close enough that she could nearly taste it.

Her pigbeast companion had gone damnably passive in the wake of his orgasm. That was just like any male, she thought, but however typical it was, it was unacceptable. She wriggled herself off his oversized digit, which he made no effort to pull back or keep inside of her. It wasn't the finger she was after anymore, however, and neither was it the penis, which had sunk tiredly into the vaguely equine sheath beneath his gut.

Markings aglow like neon in the murk of the cave, Qhala stood on the incuwine's breast, her body harmlessly light atop his. His dull white eyes stared at up at her with muddied disinterest; his nut had been busted and now sleep was on his mind. Reading his features expertly, Qhala tutted, "Soon you may rest. Your dear tamer has but one need, first."

The cobra stood on the collarbone of her pet, bracing her palms upon the sweaty plane of his forehead. Contorting herself just so, she pushed the slick and aching lips of her muff into the slobbery jowls of his face and began to grind. His tusks felt like warm spires of stone against her thighs. His breath was alluringly humid against her groin, but his demeanor was maddeningly supine.

"Lick me, my greasy pork roast," Qhala breathlessly but not humorlessly said. "Lick me-e-e. It's the least you can do..."

It took another twenty seconds of grinding and rubbing before Qhala saw appreciable results. The incuwine lapped across her cunt with lazy grace, smearing thick slobber, hiding the notable wetness already present under his own.

The clumsiness mattered little to Qhala. She gasped and grinned, swishing her tail, fanning the combined musks of herself and the incuwine through the musty cave. If the mother bear ever did happen to return, she wouldn't forget whom had rousted her from it for a very long time.

"Harder," Qhala ordered, but her voice was a coo, her body quivering. Her orgasm was unbearably near and the lackadaisical actions of her pet's tongue were helping her closer and closer to it. Never content with a passive role, she still pushed against his dull face, dragging her soft cuntlips across his rough features with endless need.

It was serendipity on the incuwine's part that he lapped across her more firmly, causing her cuntlips to part. Her clitoris tweaked against the rough slab of his tongue, sending waves of untold pleasure racing through her body, yet for all her gasping and earnestly-spoken praise, he was simply dozy. She tasted the same way she smelled and felt: appealing, but only when he wanted sex. At that moment she was simply something put in front of him, something he tasted as a matter of animalistic curiosity, and without which he would have already been asleep.

But it mattered not to Qhala how presently irritating she was to the incuwine; pleasure reigned supreme. His firmer licks were just what the snake needed, and it was with a somehow elegant cry of bliss that the cobra bucked against his face and flared her hood and clenched her jaws, all in response to the oncoming rush of her orgasm. And then it hit her like a war club, seeing her fall slack against his face.

A quick rush of warm honey gushed from Qhala's cuntlips, diffusing across the sloven face of the pigbeast in what Qhala would later realize with much amusement was a glaze. But where humor would catch her off-guard later, orgasmic delight had complete control now. She regained some of her coordination but was still unsteady with a quiver. She gyrated against the apathetic face of her pet and crooned sweet, soft nothings to him.

His licking, so lazy and and nearly idle, became briefly more intense with her squirt and the fascinating new taste and smell it brought. As that wore thin, however, the porcine monster's eyes drifted shut. A blast of air like a sigh rushed against Qhala's flat belly. The cobra took the hint graciously and dismounted her companion.

Dressed again and standing on firm legs, needs momentarily satiated and her love for the incuwine and his sexual perfection running high, Qhala knelt and smooched his sleeping face on the cheek. She stroked the immediate hide of his neck, making a roll of sweaty hide bunch under her fingers before letting it go. "My dear, handsome pet," she cooed to him, and planted her second and - for the time being - final kiss on his lips yet damp with her fluids. "Sleep well."