The Serpent's Embrace
In this short story, the reader is inducted into naga-hood after a long and sexy massage session :).
Not so much a real story as an experiment in second-person perspective, though it could be considered something of a sequel to 'A Serpent's Plot'.
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It is just a massage, at first. What better way to end a long, hot soak in the hot spring than with a rejuvenating, innervating massage?
You are lying naked and face-down on a soft massage table, your face gently resting on a donut-shaped pillow. The air around you in humid and warm, but the table itself is cool. The neutral, soft leather smells faintly of sweet oils and your own sweat. Only just now is it beginning to warm from your body heat, even though you have been resting like this for several minutes.
Your arms are out in front of you, nice and loose. There is a towel draped across your bottom, but its weight is barely noticeable in the heavy air of the room. Breathing in the hot, warm, moist air takes a more effort than you are accustomed to, especially resting on your chest. It makes your breathing naturally slow down, becoming deeper and slower.
The warm air feels good on your naked skin. It makes clothing feel unnecessary. The feeling of your weight pressing against your limp penis feels good. It isn't hardening, but it feels like it could with a little more stimulation.
The only thing you can see in the dim light is the smooth granite of the floor. The patterns in it are interesting. Or maybe they just seem interesting because there is nothing else to look at.
The only thing you can hear is the rush of hot water in the pipes, the calming, unceasing flow of baths being filled and drained with hot water. Footsteps are distant, dull and unhurried. They belong to people who have responsibilities and obligations you do not share. Besides, it's getting late. Even if you had something to do, it could be taken care of in the morning.
Waiting for the masseur, you rest in the fuzzy band between wakefulness and sleep. Your thoughts begin to wander, daydreams filling the void in your senses with whimsical notions that flicker and fade like ghosts.
There is the dull sound of a door opening and then closing, then a sharper metal rap of a lock being secured. Your masseur is here.
"Good evening." The masseur says, in a raspy, almost hissing voice.
"No need to say anything; just stay good and relaxed... let me do all the work. Be at peace. Be calm." the man purrs to you. His sibilant words flow together like honey.
There is a sound like a wet blanket being dragged across the floor, and a hand gently rests between your shoulder blades. The smooth palm is a little cool against your warm skin, the weight of another's hand unfamiliar after so long alone. His fingers splay outward and gently press into you, fingertips sliding back and forth against your lower neck and upper back.
"You look tense. Stressed. You feel like you've been sitting too long in a chair," the masseur says, mumbling to himself. His other hand joins the first on your back, and his fingertips start to gently trace along your shoulders and back. "But I can help you. I will help you. I know how to fix everything..."
The massage has not yet begun, but you are getting used to the feeling of another's hands against your naked skin. His touch is light but present everywhere, from the crown of your head to the fingers of your hands, from the small of your back down to the very tips of your toes. Already it is beginning to feel comfortable. Familiar.
"So much tension... how did you do this to your body? Nevermind. The answer matters not." the masseur says. "If you want me to get better... do exactly as I say. It will be easy. So easy..."
His voice is a low but authoritative monotone. In the absence of any other coherent sounds, it carries a certain weight and power it otherwise wouldn't. "All you have to do is relax, and I will take care of everything else ..."
"Breathe deep... and slow. Breathe through your nose. Feel the air pour into your lungs. Let it rest there for a moment. Then exhale, back though your nose. Then repeat. Slowly, deeply, calmly..."
He is right; it is very simple. So simple you were almost already doing so unbidden, or at least it feels that way.
"Good, very good..." the masseur says to you in a low voice, one almost on the verge of slipping into a whisper. You hear a shuffling sound, and then the creaking of old wooden cabinets being gently opened and closed.
Warm oil starts to drip onto your shoulders, rolling down your back and pooling in the small of your back. It is slick, sweet-smelling and just a little bit warmer than your own body and feels cleaner than the faint sheen of sweat that had been covering your skin. The masseurs hands start to spread the oil out evenly over your back, before moving down to the very tip of your tailbone. His powerful, hard-skinned thumbs press against the curve of your spine and move up it inch by inch, until his fingers are digging into your neck and kneading the stiffness from it.
"Do you know why humans have so much back pain..?" the masseur mumbles, half to himself as he continues to rub and press the thick muscles of your back, section by section.
He waits patiently for an answer, although you cannot quite form the words to reply.
"It's because we evolved from creatures that never walked upright. Your ancestors were never forced to sit inside cars and in front of computers for days on end..." he says, closer to your head now. Two powerful sets of knuckles are digging into your shoulders in a firm, circular motion, occasionally broken up by looser kneading and squeezing.
The masseur then goes over to each of your arms and takes them into his burly hands, pulling and squeezing them from the sockets to the tips of your fingers. His fingertips rub across yours as he gently squeezes them one by one, feeling like he is draining out all of the tension in your arms. Even the biggest muscles on your biceps feel less tense now.
The skin on his hands is so thick it feels like leather, yet also sort of... broken-up. Rough, but in a way that serves to heighten the pleasure of his touch. The smell of the massage oil is thick in the air now, a rich and fruity aroma that reminds you of a summer's night.
The masseur works his way up and down your back over and over again, until even the thickest of your muscles feels soft and relaxed. Your spine cracks and pops as it is stretched and pulled into proper alignment with your back, and your shoulders feel as loose as putty.
The masseur pauses for a second, pouring more oil onto his hands with wet, splashing sounds and a few self-satisfied grunts. One hand rests on you upper thigh, very close to the edge of the towel draped over your backside.
"My... look at these legs..." the masseur says to himself in wonderment. "I can't believe how tense they are. Don't worry, though. I can fix that, too..."
His warm, oiled hands rest on the back of your heel, thumbs against either side of your Achilles tendon. They press hard into your skin, running up the back of your leg and into your calf over and over again. After a minute of that treatment, his hands move up to the back of your knee and press into the sensitive joint, then work their way into your thighs with increasing force. Even the thickest muscles on your body seem to yield against his strength and his hard, rough-skinned but gentle fingers.
"You know, I used to be like you. Very much like you. But I'd like to consider my current... equanimity... more than just a state of mind. It is a state of being... one that I can share with you..." the masseur says, enigmatically.
Suddenly, a gust of warm air washes over your backside as the towel is pulled from your bare rump. The masseur moves over to just in front of your head, and gently rubs the back of your neck as he begins to speak again.
"You want me to share it with you, don't you? You want something more than a simple massage, yes?" the masseur asks.
Your words fade into nothingness before you can even form a reply.
From just under the table, you can see a thick length of serpentine tail sliding across the floor tiles. It is a colorful black, green and red pattern, slick and shining in the dim light of the humid room. As the masseur moves back toward your legs, it slithers back out of sight, leaving you with the question of whether you are seeing things or...
Something else.
It's around this time that you realize that your entire body is numb, unable to move the slightest bit. Besides, every part of it feels so good and relaxed that it would be a crime to even try. It's so much easier just to lie down and let those magical hands work on you...
Two sets of fingers spread themselves across your lower back, slowly slipping down until they cup your bare rump-cheeks. They withdraw for a brief second, and the masseur pours a dollop of hot, thick cream on the middle of each one. His fingers return and start to work the thick, hot cream deep into your body.
The hot cream slowly seeping into your skin and muscles isn't like the oil he had been using before. It makes your skin feel warm, cold and tingly all at the same time, as if something is massaging it from the inside out. The feeling continues to sink deep into your ass and doesn't go away, even when the masseur's hands move down into the back of your thighs. The thick, slightly sticky cream seeps into every muscle and bone in your legs, making them feel soft and numb.
The cream's smell is... odd, though you can't exactly place it. Powerful, pungent, prickly, musky... and distinctly male.
"Time to begin the real work. Don't worry, little human... all you have to do is relax and let go..." the masseur says, his voice mischievous and mirthful.
His strong hands begin to press down on your tailbone, harder and harder until it is almost painful. The masseur lets out a small grunt of effort, leaning down on your lower back with most of his upper body. Just when it feels like he couldn't possibly take any more, something strange happens. There is a strange, sinking feeling from your backside, and your tailbone begins to yield under his hands. Your spine pops all along your back as it straightens out, and then the masseur's hands begin to knead and press the hot flesh of your behind. The numb tingling on the skin there roars up until it feels like melting ice, and slowly you can feel the cleft of your ass-checks start to merge with your upper thighs. A small, unobtrusive break in the flesh there is all that remains of your anus.
You can hear the masseur chuckle softly to himself as he grasps your thighs tightly and begins to push them together. The numbness and warm tingling in your re-sculpted ass spreads out into the top of your legs, and the skin between your legs sticks together like wet paper. It doesn't stop there, though. Underneath the skin, your muscles meld and merge, and then eventually your bones meet with a curious, alarmingly loud but painless crunching sound. More pops and cracks come from your spine, and you realize that the strangely good pulling feeling coming from it is from your stretching, growing tailbone.
The hands holding your legs tightly together move down your thighs and past your knees in one smooth, continuous motion. He is making your legs merge together section by section, like someone pulling up a zipper. It continues until he reaches your feet. There, he holds the bottom of your feet flat together until your toes stick and stretch out into a narrow tip of skin-covered tail. That's what your legs are now, aren't they? It feels like one great big fleshy tail, broad as your chest and connected to you by a much longer, stronger and thicker spine.
"There we go... isn't that better? No more legs, no more stiffness..." the masseur says quietly, proudly. "I know it feels strange at first; I used to be human, too. But trusssst me, you will enjoy it soon enough."
The masseur's hands feel good on your skin as he rubs the sensitive, tender flesh of your former legs. He grabs the very tip of your new tail and starts to gently but firmly pull it with one hand while the other holds you against the table. You can feel the prickliness in your lower body spike back up as inch after inch of tail is pulled out of your body, pulled out over and over again until it dangles over the back of the table and starts to pour onto the floor in a coil. It feels like his hand is only doing half the work; as he pulls on you, your body is pushing it out.
When your tailtip touches the smooth stone of the floor, one final spike of numbing heat flows into it and then starts to fade into dull, comfortable, warmth. The skin on your tailtip hardens and thickens, until it becomes leathery and breaks into individual scales with a soft, wet, tickling series of crackling pops.
"You're going to be slithering about from now on. That thin skin of yours just wouldn't do..." the masseur purrs to you, rubbing your tailflesh right where the transformation is the most active.
His burly hands rub your lower back for a second as scales advance up it slowly but steadily, and then he grabs your hips and slowly, gently starts to turn you over onto your back. Your tail turns over as your body is rotated, the scaly appendage feeling nice and relaxed as it flops onto the ground with a dull slap.
Your head rests back against the table's soft leather face-pillow, and although you can't look down at your changed lower body you can see the masseur's pointed, red and green muzzle from out of the corner of your eyes. He looks you in the eyes with his slitted, predatory pupils and gives you a friendly smile.
You get a much closer look at his muzzle as he slithers over to your head and flicks his tongue out, gently rubbing the warm, forked appendage over your nose and lips. "Your taste is already beginning to change. Good." he says flatly, swirling his tongue around in his mouth as he puts more creamy lotion on his hands.
He disappears behind you once more, and then you feel him adjusting the headrest under you. He props it up a few notches so that your upper body is slightly elevated and you can see your whole frontside, from the scales slowly spreading around your exposed penis to your dangling tail. It is banded in black, yellow and red; threatening colors... but it's hard to be afraid of yourself.
You see him come around from behind you and place both his hands on your naked, semi-hard maleness.
"We'll do this part last..." he says, laughing quietly to himself. "I'm just going to put this inside you for now..."
His warm, lotioned, leathery hands cup your penis and testicles and gently press down on them as scales envelop your pubic region. Tingling pleasure makes them flush with warmth as they sink into your groin, disappearing into a narrow and snug slit just above where your anal vent formed earlier.
The naga pats the exterior of your scaly slit and slides his warm hands up your body, rubbing your belly in great swirling strokes before pausing to gently tweak your small nipples between two of his fingers.
"Don't these things feel silly on a male?" the naga ponders, his eyes twinkling as they meet yours. "I can't believe that I used to be that way too..."
He grabs ahold of your sides, rubbing up and down your flesh as scales slowly but inexorably wrap you up. His pushing and pulling seems to encourage them to spread, until they wash over your entire midsection. Your scaly back feels smooth and slippery against the leather of the massage table.
"Mmmm... you should be able to move again soon." The naga whispers into your ear, as you stare down at the winding, snaky tail that now makes up most of your body. "By the time the changes finish, you will be completely immune to our venom... and you'll be able to make it yourself..."
He takes your slack hands into his and starts to rub them in front of your face as they change. Scales advance down them from your shoulders, prickling and popping into place as he smiles at you with warm affection. When the changes reach your hands, he takes your fingers into his muzzle and sucks on them one by one. Each time he does, you feel a strange pushing sensation from the very tips. Each time, your fingers emerge from his scaly lips with the addition of a sharp claw.
The naga's clawed fingers entwine with yours briefly, clasping them tightly together. Your reptilian paws and his look almost identical.
"You should see yourself; you look so beautiful, so sexy! And we're not even done yet..." he says to you proudly, folding your arms against your chest. He pours more lotion into his hands, rubs them together, and then cracks his knuckles.
Again the naga moves behind you, rubbing the musky cream into your neck and head. Your scalp starts to feel lighter as your hair disappears, his fingers brushing it off you as they begin the delicate work of reshaping your head.
The palms of his scaly hands press against your ears and push them into your head, and sound suddenly becomes very different for you. The vibrations in the air that you used to hear with just your fleshy, floppy ears now resonates in your entire body. His fingers gently close your eyelids and rub them with the lightest of touches, and when you next blink the darkness of the massage room is more manageable. You wonder if they look like his, narrow and slitted. They probably do.
Satisfied so far, he grabs ahold of your nose and cheekbones with one hand and your jaw with his other and begins to push them together. He doesn't use much pressure compared with the force that reshaped your backbone or feet, but it seems to do the trick. As the warm, musky lotion seeps into your face, it becomes softer and pliant, almost melting into his talented claws. He pushes your nose into your face and then pulls on your mouth, drawing it out a few inches when his hands slip. He frowns to himself, but recovers his grip and starts to pull again. This time the pressure remains steady and constant, and soon you can actually see your face stretching out into a muzzle right before your eyes.
The serpent masseur holds your chin steady and leans over, then plants a flickering kiss on the bridge of your snout... where your nose used to be. His warm breath washes over your face as his lips slip lower, until they press against yours. His forked tongue slips into your slack muzzle and wraps around your flat, human tongue.
It is a serpent's kiss, hot and passionate and utterly consuming. Your new muzzle tingles with the snake-male's flavors as they mingle with your own. It makes the sensitive roof of your mouth burn with the strange, exotic sensations of reptilian musk. Even when retractable fangs form near the front of your muzzle and your tonguetip splits into two tines, the most powerful feeling in your mouth is the other male's taste.
"Mmmh... you taste good." the masseur says, licking his lips.
Though you can't tell him so, he does as well.
He smiles at you, as if he understands. "Good... now, there's only one last thing to change..."
He slithers around the table, and starts to rub the outside of your anal vent and genital slit with his palms. Despite not being able to move on your own, your tail gives an involuntary twitch as the sensitive, soft rimscales are massaged.
His fingers bury themselves in your slit, and you can feel your hot, hard member start to poke its way out of the tight slit as the naga pulls it open. He rubs the head between two of his claws before pouring a huge spurt of massage cream right on top of it. The warm cream makes your member pulsate and grow right before your eyes, arousal and growth mixed into one powerfully erotic sensation.
The naga bends over and licks the head of your penis with the tips of his tongue, then puts both of his hands right on top of it. His clawed thumbs rub against the underside of your cockhead in short strokes while his leathery fingers wrap around it and start to gently pull...
Intense, almost agonizingly powerful pleasure shoots through your body as your member yields to his hands and starts to split apart. Suddenly there is a wet, squishing, loosening feeling in your groin, and right before your eyes he pulls your human member into two reptilian hemipenes. They shake and gush as they finish forming in his dexterous claws, coating themselves with warm and clear pre-fluids.
The naga gives you a naughty smile. His own hemipenes are just beginning to poke out from his slit, two red points jutting out from the soft green of his pubic scutes.
He bends his snaky body over and slowly takes one of your new members into his hot muzzle, while his right hand wraps around the other. Somehow, it's not enough to just suck on your tender, newly transformed member; no. The greedy snake shoves his free hand into your slit and starts to massage your internal testicles, and uses the forked tines of his tongue to lap against the tapered cockhead. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, but the snake lavishing attention on your cocks shows no signs of moving away or stopping. No, he looks hungry to taste hot cum...
You can feel his fingers against your internal testicles as they tighten up and begin to fill your members with seed. More essence that you have ever felt before rockets through your stiff, hard, shaking members, one of them filling his muzzle up with cum while the other paints his face and snout a creamy white. The naga-masseur's eyes close in rapturous ecstasy as your seed coats him from the inside out, his tailtip squeezing against yours as your climax slowly tapers off.
When it is over, he is still licking your fluids from his muzzle. He goes to the door of the room and unlocks it, and five other serpents quickly slither in.
"How is he?" the biggest one asks the masseur.
"I think he enjoyed it more than I did, my lord..." your new friend replies, blushing as the larger reptile kisses his lips.
"Good. His taste is very rich..." the naga says, smiling to himself. He and the other snakes look upon you with a combination of pride and excitement; their tongues flicker in the air, tasting your scent with approving smiles.
"Welcome brother; how do you feel?" one of them asks you, just as the paralysis fades from your body.
It is a very good question, isn't it?