FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

His coils were meant for the dust. That was all there was left in those days. The mist fell heavy on the wasteland, and the air remained thick and humid, teasing at rain. Hopefully it would be the regular sort and not acid. Montiga was fresh off his most recent case of radiation poisoning and really had no desire to experience it again. The treatments were expensive, and he was getting sorely low on caps. He had to be desperate to even consider going after a deathclaw. Normally hearing one was in the area was reason enough to take a lengthy detour, even if it meant passing through bandit territory or running into all manner of other lesser mutants on the way. Those nightmares of teeth and claws were simply not to be messed with for any reason, but with a bounty like that, Montiga had to at least investigate. As soon as the local townsfolk heard he was a hunter, they flocked to him, even pouring him free drinks as he sat down with the guards to get a better idea of what he was dealing with.

"I heard it crying in the night," said a weary-looking wolf over frothing mugs in the tiny local tavern. "Not crying, I guess. More of a horrible wail."

"Maybe that was Tifen," said a chunky bear in the same dusty uniform, leaning deep over the table.

"Don't say that," the wolf retorted. "She might still be out there. All anyone saw was her getting snatched up and carried off. It didn't hurt her."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up."

Montiga waited for them to finish before he cut in, flicking his tongue to grab their attention.

"This Tifen, is she a local? I could look for her while I am out there. Your pay is ... generous. It's only fair."

"Not a local exactly. More of a trader. Barely outside of the town's gates when that thing got her. Right in broad daylight too. It's getting bolder ..."

Monty nodded. "What does she look like?"

"She was ..." the guard started, then shook his head. "She is a naga. Like you. Pretty thing. All yellow and white. Such a shame"

"Just don't drop your guard." The bear suddenly sat up, his eyes flashing with something intense. "This one's big. Bigger than usual. And that's saying something. I think it might be some kinda mutant. Or, well, a mutant mutant, I guess."

Monty did his best to maintain a cool demeanour, though he had to admit that was an intimidating thought. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I will be sure to move quietly," he assured them both.

"Might come right up into the settlement some night ..." the bear muttered, more to himself than anything.

Monty tried to reassure the worried ursine. "Surely your defenses could handle a single beast."

The bear just shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well." Monty rose up, which involved uncoiling himself and straightening his back. "If all goes well, you won't have to worry about that anymore. Take care, boys."

He slithered off, fetching his supplies, and paid a visit to the local gunsmith to make sure his weapons were all nicely tuned up. His choice of armament for a hunt like this one was a refitted hunting rifle, customized and rebuilt many times. It was a bit of a ship of Theseus by that point with how many parts had been altered or swapped out over the years, but it remained reliable and deadly as long as he could get a shot from afar. That seemed the best plan of action for a monster like a deathclaw. He really had no desire to engage it in close combat, and it wasn't like it'd be hard to see from afar if it was as big as they said. Plus, weren't those creatures known for their keen sense of smell? It was best he kept his distance as much as possible to avoid letting it catch his scent. Especially since it had already proven it had a taste for nagas. That poor woman - he hoped she was alright. But he knew that hope didn't amount to much in the harsh realities of the wasteland. Once he had everything fixed up and restocked, he set out on the trail after a good home cooked meal with the local leader. It was the least they could do for someone brave enough to tackle the town's fangy troubles.

Moving out into the emptiness, feeling the breeze upon his scales was as intimidating as it was invigorating. There were all manner of secrets buried in the wasteland. An idle stroll could turn into the discovery of a lifetime, or a fight to the death. He knew that well after his years of travels. It wasn't just his quarry he was scanning for as he slid across the cracked remnants of an old highway. Anyone or anything could have been hiding beneath the ruined remnants of an overpass he passed beneath. Bandits, beasts, or something that science had yet to identify. But there was something quiet about that particular afternoon. The wind was gentle, the air was clear, and there was more silence than usual falling over the drifting sands of the desert landscape. He was starting to wish he'd brought a radio, though that of course would have been a foolish way to give away his position during a hunt. Though he was out in the open, with hardly any cover to speak of, he kept low, both to reduce his visible profile, and to inspect the ground for prints.

Montiga wouldn't have called himself an expert tracker, but he didn't need to be to follow such obvious signs of the deathclaw's passage. Those massive monsters had a destructive way of moving around, and it showed in the way they cleaved through the dirt as they walked. He didn't see a second set of tracks, nor a snake trail. Apparently the missing trader was a naga like him, but he found no signs of her. Maybe she'd already been eaten, for all he knew. It wasn't going to be easy to find her if that was the case. Deathclaws weren't exactly known for leaving leftovers. He'd be lucky to find so much as a bone, he thought to himself grimly. But he pressed on anyway, despite the growing sense of danger looming in his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling something was watching him, but a quick scan around him revealed only open wasteland. Nothing stirred but for the warm breeze through the weeds.

"Nothing. As usual," he muttered to himself. Maybe it wasn't the best habit, but it kept him sane during long trips through the wasteland. "I'm probably looking for a cave, or maybe ... what's that?"

The silhouette of something jutting out of the smog caught his attention. There was an old factory in the distance. The trail led there. Whereas many of the buildings had been cleaned up and reclaimed over the years since the bombs fell, this one was little more than a shell, a husk of its old purpose, exposed to the elements and nearly crumbling. He could smell the rust from where he slithered. The natural armour of his scales would help him, but he knew he had to be careful of nicking himself on the old metal as he approached, lest he come back victorious on his hunt only to fall ill and die days later. Wouldn't that just be a typical story of the wasteland? Heroes never seemed to live long lives in that ruined world. He waited as the sun began to lower, listening for signs of activity. And there were plenty.

It sounded like something was being messily devoured, mixed in with the grunts and growls of the giant beast. He leaned up close to one of the empty windows and peered into the middle of the wrecked structure. The gleam of scales beneath the sunlight filtering through the partly-collapsed roof told him he had found his prey. It was lazily seated, hunched over something, its back turned to Montiga. He couldn't tell what it was doing. Keeping himself low and quiet, he carefully climbed his way up the exterior or the factory, elongating his coils to propel him through what remained of a ruined door frame to enter the building itself. Then he slithered forth, as silently as possible, making sure not to disturb a single piece of rubble and potentially alert the monster. His higher position gave him a better look, peering over the edge of the collapsed floor, catching the glint off the beast's horns. A sudden snort from the deathclaw made him freeze in place. He was something cooler than cold-blooded for a moment while he held his breath and tried to figure out if the monster had seen him. Or maybe smelled him.

The deathclaw didn't turn its head, and seemed to relax, busying itself with whatever it was snorfing over. Montiga moved to the side to get a better look once he managed to calm down. His heart was still pounding and he felt suddenly dry-mouthed like he hadn't had a drink in days, but he pressed on, foolish though it might have been. Maybe he could get one good lucky shot off with his rifle and that would be all it took - though he'd have to make his hands stop shaking first. Looking through his scope, he zoomed in on that great, beastly head, and that was when he saw it. There was something else shining there. Another set of scales writhed against the monster's body, shining brighter than the deathclaw's own. Her golden coils were dusty, but there was no mistaking them for anything but the missing naga. Somehow, she'd managed to stay in one piece. So far.

Getting a better look, and Monty understood. No wonder the creature hadn't even smelled him. It was far too busy with someone else's scent. Montiga had somehow managed to find the missing serpent alive. And now he understood how she'd managed to last so long in the den of a ravenous monster. Tifen was working her maw up and down the deathclaw's cock, effortlessly deepthroating without so much as a gasp of discomfort. That was the source of all the slick noise, schlicking rapidly up and down with a thump of her lips to his balls. She was putting some finesse into that generous blowjob, too. Her palms were pressed to the surface of his big fat nuts, bigger than Montiga had ever seen, and she kneaded them, bounced them, admired them with a series of slow, sensual strokes over their scaly surface.

It was a very generous treatment, but apparently it wasn't enough. Monty's attention had been so focused on what she was doing to his cock that he didn't even immediately notice she was hips-deep in deathclaw maw. That meant he'd already swallowed near a dozen feet of coils, and it showed in the rounded, swelling shape of his scaly gut. Even half-eaten, she kept on sucking his dick, maybe in vain hope that he might let her go if she pleased him enough. Though the look on her face was anything but distressed. She looked ... peaceful. Dazed. Blissful, even. And the swelling of her twin cocks told him that at least some part of her was enjoying the beastly indulgence, even as she teetered on the edge of being devoured whole by the mutant monster.

He couldn't get a clear shot. That would have meant taking the risk of hitting her. But even if he decided that it was worth endangering her - she was probably doomed anyway - he still couldn't do it. It wasn't a matter of morality or willpower, it was his total lack of focus. Monty didn't even have his finger curled around the trigger, loosely grasping his rifle as he watched the scene through the scope. Even from a distance, the musk of the pairing wafted over to reach him, carried along by the wasteland breeze until he was sucking it straight down into his lungs. And his brain, or so it felt. He found himself flicking his tongue at that heady aroma, tasting the heat in the air as snake and deathclaw alike projected a thick scent of pure sex. It was enough to make his mouth water, clouding his thoughts and pushing aside all common sense in favour of deep, fascinated staring. Was that a bit of drool running over his lower lip? He swiped it away with his tongue before it could drip at least. But the cloud of pheromones had such an effect on him that his whole demeanour transformed in the span of a minute. He no longer looked over at that beast and saw a monstrous brute. Instead, he admired the musculature of that hulking titan, the way he huffed as the Tifen sucked his cock, and of course, the sheer heft of those huge, weighty balls bouncing up and down with the force of the missing trader's generous blowjob.

If Monty had any remaining doubts about the captive's willingness to serve her captor, they vanished when he saw her cum. All it took was slipping her own hard cock into his mouth and slipping his tongue along its surface to set her off. He heard the pleasured hiss from where he crouched in hiding, accompanied by her groaning gasp as she spurted hard, sending an arc of snake seed splashing down to the rubble-strewn floor. More still poured down the deathclaw's body, painting his earthy scales with a sheen while he sucked her down. She was his noodle to slurp down seemingly effortlessly. Even with his gut expanding as those coils curled up down in his belly, he didn't flinch, didn't pause. One continuous gulp was all it took to immerse her to her tits in deathclaw jaws. Surprisingly, he didn't bite, or even nibble. His fangs were deadly, but they brushed over her scales without so much as a scratch. He was restrained enough to keep from chomping her to bits, though he made up for it with slobbery, messy gulping, saliva trickling from her body as he enveloped her to the throat. Her gullet still bulged around his own cock, and he bent straight down until he could slip over her head, replacing her suckling grip with his own, though only briefly. Slipping off to gulp her down meant leaving his shaft rigid, pulsing, shooting some potently-scented precum straight up in the air. Monty could hear it splatting to the cracked concrete from where he was, and the scent was only getting thicker.

He watched the deathclaw having his way until the entire naga had settled into his stomach following a deep, overpowering swallow that rang out among the ruins, bouncing from wall to wall with that mighty GULP, resonating with finality. All those accumulated coils sagged and stretched his middle impressively once they were pushing out from within, rounding him out to a considerably larger shape than before. But it hardly slowed him. He rose to his imposing height, standing taller than the second floor of the building, and when he turned, his gaze locked directly on the other lurking serpent. Monty thought he was pretty well hidden among the shadows, but maybe it wasn't his silhouette that gave him away. He hadn't noticed until the twitching need caught his eye, and made him exhale sharply. His own pair of dicks slipped smoothly from their slit in response to the constant dosage of feral musk. He was under the deathclaw's spell, and he knew it, finding himself staring out and licking his lips to the sight of the monstrous reptile staring him down. He lost himself in those slitted reptilian eyes, and soon his body was moving without him even knowing it. His coils slithered forth as if automated, possessed by the beckoning essence of the deathclaw wafting through the air. As for the creature himself, he just squatted down and grunted at the hidden hunter, drawing him out of hiding without so much as a word. Presumably he couldn't speak. Or maybe he just didn't need to in order to get his way. His musk, his imposing presence, and the towering spire of his cock throbbing urgently in Monty's direction were indication enough of what he desired.

"Hhff ... I don't, I shouldn't ..." Monty told himself, his spoken words the only voice of reason remaining in his mind. "What is that scent ... it's not even natural what it's doing to me. It can't be."

Was that a smile on the beast's toothy countenance? Maybe more of a lecherous grin? Monty saw the fading light reflecting off those dangerous fangs, combined with the lustful look in those reptilian eyes. Maybe deathclaws were more intelligent than the marauding beasts everyone knew them to be. Or maybe just this one was. Time for such intellectual considerations was long past. He knew he liked what he saw, and even after witnessing that creature devour someone whole, he still approached, climbing down from his roost and leaving his weapon behind. Besides, Tifen was apparently still alive. He could tell by the wriggling and squirming of the monster's middle. She didn't even seem to be struggling. It was more just a constant writhing wiggle, keeping the bulge of her trapped shape jiggling. A closer look revealed the outline of her cock, still hard even after an orgasm like the one that left a thorough glaze of serpent seed dripping from the deathclaw's scales. From the looks of it, being in the monster's stomach was turning her on. Did it feel good in there? Maybe her afterglow had scrambled her senses. He could already hear the steady rumble and the wetter, juicer sounds of churning digestion. It certainly wasn't safe in there. But she had made her choice, of her own will. The 'claw hadn't even forced her down there. And he hadn't ordered Monty to admire that trophy bulge, either, but that was exactly what he moved in position to do anyway, after stripping from his armour and pack, letting them tumble to the floor, fully exposing his naked body to the mutated monster.

Montiga drew closer and closer with a singular purpose. He needed to touch that serpentine outline, and knead his fingers into the shape of the naga's body. With enough squeezing, he found her cock, and gave it a rub of his own, admiring up and down its shape. It couldn't compare to the deathclaw's own, twitching up somewhere near Monty's face, emitting a potent scent that kept him enraptured, but his whims were focused solely on that belly for the time being. He pressed in deeper, feeling those inner hisses resonating, mixing in with the steady gworgle of the beast's thick gut. The deathclaw rumbled up above, producing a ground-shaking vibration that almost resembled a purr. Though much gruffer, of course. Monty didn't pay it much mind. He was busy admiring the heft of slowly digesting naga. She was still squirming, humping back at Monty's hands, letting him feel the twitches even through the layers separating him and her. Maybe he would have kept on rubbing until the serpent softened beneath those scales if it wasn't for the deathclaw's very insistent grip to his head. He took Monty by the skull in both hands, at least refraining from crushing him, forcefully directing him to the tip of that oozing dick to better observe the copious mess it was making, pumping out a splash of precum that flung right up onto Monty's face, coating him in a hot, viscous mask.

"Ackpth ... heheh. Messy one, aren't you?" Monty felt inclined to tease, even if the deathclaw still hadn't shown any clear sign of understanding him. "Guess I'll just have to help you out with - gah!"

He found himself getting cut off by the beast's sudden lunge, forcefully yanking him by the head to bring him closer. Another shove, and he found himself between the beast's balls. The monster was rough enough with him to send him smacking face-first against those shapely nuts. Monty found himself smothered, immersed all at once in the scent that had already overtaken his senses. Sniffing it from afar was enough to cloud his thoughts and leave him dazed and dumbly following his urges. Sniffing it from the source blanked him entirely, turning him from stunned servant into drooling, depraved nutslut, slathering over the beast's shapely pair without pause. Up and down he went, sniffing, licking, sucking on as much of them as he could get into his mouth at once. That meant kneading his lips along their surface, pausing now and then to kiss, eventually slipping one whole deathclaw nut into his dripping maw to give it a good, deep suck. He drained the musk from it as if squeezing a sponge, drinking down the masculine essence, letting it stain his insides with the mark of pure, untamed beast.

"Hssssss ... that's a goooood taste. I'd bathe in the scent of your nuts, really." Monty was so compelled he felt the need to complement the deathclaw out loud. "You like all the attention, hm? Feels like you do. Looks like it too."

He could feel those hefty orbs clenching. There was tension there, causing that musk-laden pair to jump and twitch every time Monty ran his forked tongue along their surface. He just kept going, teasing the crevice between them, swiping up all the flavour clinging to the deathclaw's sack. Only after working them over for several minutes straight, hardly pausing for any real air, did the beast relent and relax his grip. That allowed Monty to drift upwards, swiping his tongue along as he went, tasting his way towards the soaking tip. Maybe Tifen didn't have what it took to make the deathclaw cum, but he was happy to pick up where she left off. Or maybe that creature was just saving himself up, letting the pressure build, tense and taut all over while he noisily digested the masturbating naga. Either way, Monty got a potent blast of pure scent by the time he wrapped his lips around that fat monster cock, letting the spurting pre hit him right in the back of his open gullet. It was already trickling down into his belly, leaving him warmed from the inside, infused with that marking essence. He was as good as the deathclaw's property. Even if he somehow got away, he'd be carrying that scent with him for weeks, and every single resident of the nearby town would have known he'd so wilfully submitted to the beast he was supposed to be hunting. He'd come this far, and there was no going back. Might as well go all the way.

Slipping down from there came naturally to him, especially lubricated by the thickly-potent juices and his own saliva. He didn't hesitate to schlick his way down until his throat was bulging around the shape of that fat deathclaw dick. It was impressively girthy, and solid too, stretching out his throat and testing even a naga's ability to swallow. He could breathe fine, though every huff had him inhaling even more of that knockout musk, falling deep into infatuated intoxication while he sucked that beast as hard as he could. Deeper, deeper he went, gulping down every single inch he possibly could until he bottomed out with that dick pointed right at his belly, stuffed down his gullet, leaving him to massage the monster's cock with his every kneading swallow. Schlurking noisily around it didn't quite drown out the steady gurgles from above. They got more aggressive, churning, squeezing, crushing inwards on the captive naga while the new arrival pleasured the triumphant predator.

That trader was still moving, though she was slowing down. From a steady squirm to just a slow, slightly twitchy wiggle, she was settling down, letting that churning gut overtake her. She never seemed to lose the lust for her situation, even while being digested. Her cock was still as clearly outlined in the 'claw's belly as his own as in Monty's throat. Those slurping, suckling, worshipful efforts made the monster's dick harder with every stroke up and down his many inches. It bulged out, the veins solid, pre pouring straight down into the lusty serpent's belly. He was only getting warmer with every gulp, chugging down that essence straight from the tap, feeling it spreading through his body and becoming part of him. Or at least that was how it felt to him as that musky treat sloshed around within his belly, heating him from within until he could feel that tingly heat in the very tip of his tail. His own dual cocks were hard the whole time he worked on that throat-bulging monster dick, pulsing out with needy pressure, spurting with pleasure as if they were being sucked themselves. He'd already sprayed out enough to paint that prey-stuffed belly, leaving shiny streaks rolling down the bulging outline of the deathclaw's middle.

He had no idea how long that mindlessly subservient blowjob lasted. It was getting darker. Maybe he was blacking out, or maybe he really had sucked that monster dick until sundown. He was nearly numb to the musk by then, and yet every time he delved down to the base and kissed the beast's balls, he got another hit of that enrapturing scent, ensuring he fell even deeper into his own drunken, horny state. His cocks were starting to feel just slightly sore. They'd gone so long without any sort of stimulation, and yet they stood tall and soaked, completely coated in the precum trickling from the twin tips. Even his hisses were unstable by then, rattling along with his wavering consciousness. Maybe he'd faint before he finished that deathclaw off. It wasn't until he pressed down deep to the very base of the giant reptile's shaft, smooching against his scaly, musky crotch where so much deathclaw scent had accumulated, that he felt that telltale twitch. It came accompanied by a deep snort, then a grunt that grew into a rising rumble. Then there came the roar.

The eruption of pure noise shook the worn-down structure, blasting the dust clean off old bits of machinery. Monty had to wonder if they'd hear it all the way back at the little settlement. But he was barely thinking about that tiny town anymore. His place was here, snug between a monster's thighs, sucking a massive cock until it gushed its load straight down his throat. He felt the creamy mess blasting directly into the bottom of his belly, splashing and engorging him with that thick spunk. It welled up his throat, overflowing in seconds, pumping out in massive splorshes that soon leaked from his lips and nose, pouring down his chin, his chest, reaching all the way to his own cocks. He swallowed as best he could, trying to keep it inside of him, even if it meant letting his gut get stretched with the weighty load pressing out from within, filling his stomach to the brim and blimping him up to a taut and bloated balloon shape. He felt his scales getting pushed out by the shape of all the spunk tucked down deep into his middle, while the excess jizz poured from his open mouth. When the deathclaw finally pulled free from his gullet, Monty fell back and became a living fountain. The pressure meant he was gushing the thick cream straight up in the air, letting it pour down and splash upon his scales, soaking into his skin, becoming part of him. For at least a second or two, he lost track of everything around him, flopping onto his back and blanking out into blissful nothingness, staring at the ceiling but hardly seeing. Only when the terrifying visage of the snarling deathclaw entered his vision did he snap out of his cum-fuelled daze.

"Hmmf ... you taste just as good as you look. Maybe better. All satisfied now, big boy?" Maybe the brute did know what he was saying after all. He seemed smarter than most. Or at least, good at sex. All the speaking made some of the jizz bubble up in Monty's throat, sending him into a creamy coughing fit. When he recovered, he wiped some of the excess of his lips, which was a laughable effort compared to the mess streaked across his face, and shrugged. "You must be after a cumshot like that. Even a pair of nuts like those must be emptied out, hm?"

The deathclaw gave a grunt. Maybe it was acknowledgement, or even understanding. Or maybe he was just annoyed that his plaything was making too many noises. Either way, he wasn't going soft. Even mere seconds after shooting a load big enough to bloat the naga so heavily, and he was stiff, throbbing like before, acting as if he hadn't managed to climax yet. Monty gave him a look of disbelief, though an amused smile slowly spread across his glazed features as he watched the deathclaw hump at the air insistently. Well. Maybe he had a little more to give. Though in his swollen state, he didn't react nearly in time before the monster grabbed him, snatching him by those lazily strewn coils, and yanking them into the air to start stuffing straight into the tip of his cock. Monty felt the clench before he could even process what was happening to him. And when it finally became apparent to his musk-addled mind that the creature was consuming him, he simply couldn't bring himself to worry too much. It felt good. Smelled good. And basking in the mighty deathclaw's presence, simmering in the clinging mark of his seed, that was enough to cloud the logic from the mind of even the most experienced hunter.

"Oooh, you want me hmm? All of me?" He hardly knew what he was saying. Monty carried on in a horny stupor, grinning dumbly at the monster who'd already consumed so many like him. His scales slickly descended that bulging cock, feeling the clenches of lust pressing inwards in a nearly crushing grip. "If you insist ..."

The deathclaw simply grunted at him again, giving a quick motion of his head. It almost seemed like communication, but Monty couldn't be sure. Maybe a scientist might have found this specimen a fascinating subject of study. But they would have probably fallen on his pheromonal spell and ended up inside of him, too. If Monty had any doubts whether the big beast could really swallow him with his dick, those were slickly, sloppily erased by the cream-lubed schlurp that claimed the first few feet of the naga's coils. Thick though they might have been, they slipped down the silky innards of the monster's dick, pushing into the middle of his balls, already starting to outline and sag that fat sack of his. He felt himself dunking down into the bottom of those cumtanks, splashing into the lingering cream waiting for him there. They weren't completely full, but there was enough sloshing about to soak into his scales, getting him even deeper down the musk-spiral, thoroughly marked while the drooling beast claimed him. He watched that shapely heft in the deathclaws's belly, that vaguely-wiggling outline of a gurgling naga, and he listened to the steady churn of those nuts. They grumbled much like a hungry gut, already sloshing, simmering, squeezing up tight around his bottom half. Another slurp came with a splish of juices and then a thunderous gulp like the tug of a wet gullet.

"That's quite a grip you got there, heheh ..." came his shaky voice, sounding like it might break at any moment. It certainly wasn't the same voice of the confident, experienced wasteland wanderer who had entered the deathclaw's den in search of a fight. He was submitting to the pleasing intoxication, becoming a little less coherent by the second as he basked in that potent essence wafting off the soaking reptile. He probably couldn't have added two digits together in that addled state.

The slippery massage around his dusty coils kept Monty at the peak of his arousal, thunderously throbbing. He couldn't take his hands off himself. A hand for each cock kept him busy while the deathclaw swallowed him straight down that steaming hot spire. The pressure of each squish and squeeze felt close to crushing, slightly numbing Monty from the waist down. That just meant he had more sensation left for the stroking, pumping jerks he gave himself. Working up and down, he thumped his fists down to his coils, slathering his shafts in precum, drooling the deathclaw's jizz as he hissed in broken pleasure. The deeper he went, the faster he stroked, sensing the near-airtight seal nearing his waist. He was going to have to get off before that hungry monster dick swallowed up his shafts, or he'd end up slurped down into the 'claw's nuts right on the edge, never quite finding release. Oozing, dripping, tensing, he was closer, thinking of nothing but hitting that peak that loomed so near, tempting, misting, painting himself with watery precum but not quite hitting that peak.

Lost in that rapid self-pleasuring, he didn't realize how little time he had left until that taut grip slipped around his waist, slurping over his cocks, pinning them to his belly right along with his hands. He was wrists-deep in deathclaw dick before he managed to pull back and raise his arms, feeling that slick hold hugging up around his middle, tightly clamping, sealing smoothly over his every wriggling feature. Monty couldn't tell whose throbs were whose, blending into a thumping peak that made him toss his head back with a hiss almost like a shriek. So close, so wet, and then grunting, flexing, puffing rapidly, yet never quite finding the release he needed. All he needed were a few good strokes, so he reached down to massage instead at the outline of his cocks if he couldn't rub them from the inside of the deathclaw. When that wasn't quite enough, he grunted in desperate frustration.

"Nnngh! Just let me ... come on. Just a little longer and let me cum for you, big guy ..." he fussed, but the deathclaw didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, the beast just clamped down hard, putting some pressure on those trapped snakecocks, letting Monty feel that shaft flexing around his own twin pair. "Hnnnf! Ahhh, just like that. Almost ..."

Maybe it was a favour, or maybe the deathclaw was just finishing him off. Either way, he compressed faster, harder, massaging Monty's shafts as generously as he had himself, sending him surging to a peak that saw him seconds away from exploding within the confining prison of the blazing hot monster cock. Those huge, clawed fingers were what finally sent him off. The beast wrapped two strong hands around his own shaft, smoothly pumping up and down, pressing over the confined outlines of Monty's identical dicks until he finally spurted. He sprayed himself down, soaking his own belly as he slipped smoothly down into those humid depths. Things were only getting hotter while he slithered down that tight dick in the middle of his orgasm, simmering in his own spunk, feeling it overflowing and shooting up over his chest, into then his face and open mouth, drenching him mid-moan, making him swallow it down to join with the blazing hot mess already stretching his gut. His swollen belly plapped down atop the tip of that ravenous cock. Monty swam his way into gleaming afterglow, the whole world spinning, the musky mess steaming off his body in the cool night breeze that blew through the bombed-out building. Maybe that was as far as he was going to go. He couldn't see how his cum-bloated middle could possibly fit any farther down that bulging shaft. That was when he realized just how much he'd underestimated that mutant reptile's dick.

One rumbly growl, and the deathclaw clenched down even harder than before, pressing up against the bulge of his gut. Monty felt the cum welling up his throat, and soon he was gushing with it, spraying it from his open mouth, once more becoming a fountain of pure jizz. This time, it was even more impressive than the first time, getting enough distance that some ended up splattering right out an empty window and trickling down the exterior of the old building. Deathclaw cum rained down over the two of them with a misty cloud of musk, taking off some of the pressure, letting that swollen middle slip down into that stiff spire. Monty coughed once his throat-fountain slowed to a trickle, leaving him drooling, shaking, writhing, then pleasantly hissing as he settled into a glimmering afterglow. He was ready to take a nap, soothed by the overpowering heat pumping off the deathclaw's massive body. Those hefty balls swelled up rounder, heavier, sloshing around the naga's coils, and then hugging all around his body as he delved down into the musk-thick depths. Monty raised his hands over his head as he felt his face enveloped in the taut grip of that juicy dick. His face pressed out on the smooth shaft devouring him, vaguely outlining his stunned features before he was fully swallowed past his wrists. The last glimpse of him was his wiggling fingertips before the slurped up into that open slit, sealed away and sucked down with the rest of him as he descended that slippery tube and splashed down into the spunk-packed nuts. They clenched up all around him in welcome, giving him an ominous gurgle as they prepared to churn him up. All he could do in response was to faintly murmur, the infatuating clear in his fading voice.

"So hot, so potent ... I'm gonna make a nice fat load of your seed ... I hope it feels good to squirt me out when you're done ... "

Two satisfying bulges were perfect for squeezing and squishing, and the deathclaw gave a contented grunt as he slumped back against a piece of rubble. He left his cock at its peak of firmness, pressing it in on the rounded form of his naga-filled gut. Humping at his swollen belly got his balls jiggling, shaking Monty up and down while he smeared his precum all over that fat belly. The gurgling was louder there, gurgling up viciously around his prey, and his balls soon grew more aggressive to match. They gave a steady glurrrn followed by some more rapid glut glut gluts, slathering Monty in pure, fresh deathclaw spunk, letting it soak and envelop him, soaking him to the very core. He swallowed down what he could, letting the rest sink into his scales, leaving a clinging coating of musk-rich seed all over his every single scale, bleaching him white in a manner of minutes. Monty felt like he could slip into a blissful slumber any second, though he held on as long as he could, drifting near the edge of unconsciousness, rocked near to sleep by the greedy massage of those fat, bulging balls clamping all around their prey. He was already getting a little softer as he churned away, simmering down and slowly melting as that potent seed converted him into a creamier serpent with every sultry slosh.

He could hear the deathclaw's steady breathing from where he was. At first it was rapid, aggressive, huffing as he might expect of a brutish beast. But over time, the monster settled down, even relaxed, soothed to sleep by the weight in his belly and balls alike. Monty swore he even heard the monster snoring. The silly sound blended with the gurgles echoing all around him, keeping him soothed and hardly thinking about his predicament. It didn't matter that he'd been devoured whole by a horny monster. All that he cared about was the smooth sensation of those slippery walls slipping sweetly over his soaked body. A slow, sloshing simmer softened him with every passing minute, rolling into hours as the beast slept through the night. As a serpent with several feet of thick coils trailing behind him, he was a whole lot to digest, but the deathclaw worked him over, minute by minute, keeping him stewing in that barely-thinking state of a musk-blazed stupor. Sometimes he found himself swallowing some of that cum as it bubbled up around him, stirring up its activity, getting slightly aggressive at times. But there was nothing distressing about it, keeping him calm and submissive as that overpowering spunk claimed him churn by churn. The tip of his coils was already feeling numb, but he was going to need a good simmering before he was truly gone.

He might have been dreaming. It was hard to tell. There was just enough air in there to keep him from fully losing consciousness, and the heat numbed over everything. There wasn't a hint of pain. He felt only the constant kneading pressure, mixed up with the occasional clench that squished inwards around his form, testing his limits, demonstrating to him just how soft he was getting. At first he was solidly bulging in that musk-packed deathclaw sack, but in time, he was sloshing, mingling with the jizz around him, finding his extremities indistinguishable from the rising mess. It was getting thicker, too. His muscles weakened and his silhouette faded as every detail got bleached clean off by the steady digestive seed gloshing all around him. He was a cum-coloured recreation of his old self, his scales losing their lovely purple hues, but retaining their shape until those too were fading. He lost a little more of his structure every time those scaly nuts pressed inwards, flattening and distorting him, leaving him less recognizable as the naga he once was as the minutes rolled into hours. Only when he was barely a solid shape gurgling at the base of the deathclaws's cum-filled sac did he finally fade into darkness. One more good squeeze, a bulging, twitching compression of pure pleasure around what little reamined of his form, and Monty finally sank down into his creamed self over time in what felt like one long steaming sigh, swimming in the heated sack that smoothed over every single bulging detail until they'd erased the tiniest trace of his softening silhouette. Monty was gone, digested in those balls, vanished from the world but for the loudly churning, ball-bulging load of freshly churned prey-spunk that already leaked from the deathclaw's bulging tip before he woke.

Tifen the trader hardly fared any better, trapped down in the acidic chamber of the deathclaw's gut. Her fate wasn't nearly so sensual. She was at least far too numbed by pleasure and all the musk she'd devoured to really noticed what was happening to her body as that deadly stomach rumbled and glorped all around her, dousing her in those tingly fluids. It didn't take nearly as long to melt her down as it took the deathclaw to process Monty into jizz. That beast was made for digesting vast quantities of meat, and a thick naga was no different from anything else he'd eaten. Her scales didn't stand a chance, nor did the rest of her, getting liquified and softened rapidly until she was fading and sinking into the rising sludge that used to be her. The monster's belly bulged with her final twitches, the snake bumping out against the slimy walls as she messily sizzled down and churned to mush until that hostile chamber crushed up tight around what little remained of her. The fluids overtook her entirely after a mere hour or so, immersing her, sloughing off the last traces of meat clinging to the serpent's bones, and letting them drift apart and clatter in the deathclaw's gut. After that it was only a matter of sucking her down into his intestines for further processing, slowly adding her as a layer of pudge packed atop those shiny, scaly muscles.

By the time the sun was up, casting its orange glow over the dusty wasteland, the deathclaw was thicker, softer, fatter, and hefting a sack so heavy it barely fit between his thighs. He snorted on awakening, licked his chops, then reached down to squeeze at his new shape. First he worked around his belly, grunting in mild disdain at the fat he wore. Then he worked more fondly over his fattened balls, giving them each a deep squeeze, working his semi-hard cock up to full mast before he even rose to his feet. That motion was more laborious than the monster's usual movement, hefting his balls up then letting them sag down with a plap to the floor, sending those creamed contents loudly sloshing. The deathclaw grunted once, then went ahead and flopped back down on his back. He wasn't even going to bother trying to walk around if it meant dragging his stuffed nuts along the ground as he went.

Instead, he spread his thighs, gripped his cock, and curled his tail between his legs to plunge it into his own rear. That was a controlled, precise movement - something he'd done many times before. Shoving several inches straight inside, he pumped back and forth, casually tailfucking himself, bringing himself to a snarling, grunting state of seeming aggression. But that was just the pleasure overtaking him. He gnashed his teeth as he writhed there in the middle of the ruined factory, bellowing out across the wasteland as a warning to all nearby to avoid the area. Otherwise they might have been subject to the absolute flood of deathclaw spunk that came bulging up his shaft, stretching it with the overloaded size of his cumshot. He roared as he erupted, but it was quickly drowned out by his own gurgling as he gargled his own cum, hosing it over his prone form, basting himself in that potent musk that had drawn in his latest snack. A shower of fresh jizz rained down across his scales, pooling on the concrete, sinking into the cracks in the building's foundation. That structure, or what remained of it, belonged to him, smelling of monstrous, yet dangerously enticing musk. And he was freshly perfumed with another layer of it thanks to the melted-down serpent, all churned down to sloppy cream and spurted out the deathclaw's dick, serving as little more than a tingly orgasm from the hulking monster. The town was never going to know what happened to him or the trader. But given he went off in pursuit of a deathclaw, they could probably take an educated guess.

He lazed beneath the rising sun as the spunk pool spread out all around him. It soaked into his skin and dripped from his scales, soaking into all the crevices of his hide and making sure that scent stuck with him everywhere he went. That thick aroma was the trophy of his indulgence. And though he'd just digested a pair of naga overnight, by the time he got up to his feet, letting his softening dick flop up and down, he found himself grumbling and grunting, sniffing at the air for any traces of any living thing other than himself. Even the dumbest animals and mutants avoided the scent of a horny deathclaw. But not every wastelander knew it at first sniff. He finally climbed up to his feet with a dismissive grunt, cum waterfalling from his gleaming scales, and went stomping off in pursuit of his next prey. A cloud of potent, exotic musk sweltered over the wasteland, banishing the cool morning air in favour of that thick reptilian fragrance, broadcasting it as a dazzling, mesmerizing signal to draw the notice of even the least lustful of wanderers and settlers alike and lure them to their gurgly fate within the ravenous deathclaw.