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"But of course I can quash this beast for you - for a cost. A most reasonable one, I assure you."

So it had been that Qhala earned the trust of the village leader, whose situation was so dire as to give the reigns of a monster-hunting expedition over to a silk-tongued snake woman whose eyes continually drifted to the barn, from which infrequent sounds of nickers and horseshoeing echoed into the twilight. She had never told the leader just what it was she wanted. He assumed from her gaze she wanted one of the horses. He wasn't entirely wrong.

Across a treacherous land, Qhala quested in search of the beast known colloquially as the incuwine. She had not the slightest inkling where such a bizarre name had come from, knowing only it was a creature remarkable for leaving its victims dead of exhaustion - and sticky, often entombed in a viscous cocoon as though having fallen prey to a giant spider. But Qhala, whom could fuck a stable of stallions from dusk 'til dawn and want for more, was more intrigued than afraid.

And so after much wandering and climbing and a long trek through a swamp filled with the foulest smells and most hideous greenery ever seen, Qhala was at last before the lair of the incuwine. She could smell it from the mouth of its cave; a musk fat with sexual hormones the likes of which the snake had never known in such concentrations. The ambient stink of the beast exhilarated her where it might have paralyzed another.

All along her body, through the tissue-thin garb she wore, Qhala's hide began to glow hues of purple, green along her markings. Her eyes were especially luminous. She proceeded into the beast's domain with calm deliberateness. What snuffling and grumbling she heard deep within served only to heighten her arousal.

Past desiccated husks, under stalactites broken off the tumultuous cavern ceiling by some impossible bulk, Qhala walked without fear. Her tail swished and swayed, feeling along the ground, leaving meandering trails in ancient dust. Her tongue flitted, tasting the rank smell on the air. As she passed deeper into the incuwine's lair, a flavor like sucking on a penny was added to the melting pot of smellflavors. Qhala thought instantly of preseminal fluid.

She saw it before it saw her. Its back was heaving, mottled with gangrenous colors. A wild shock of hair ran down its spine, wispy and white like a beard, thinning near the fat porcine bottom and continuing along the top of a tail which was reptilian like Qhala's but massive and beastly, ending in an uneven club of chitin.

It was hunkered over a basin of slime and muck which reminded the cobra of the peaty slop of the swamp. Instead of the gaseous stench of decomposing flora, however, the basin was thick was the same coppery flavor of the beast's musk. And that was when Qhala realized the incuwine, panting and bleating and rocking on its huge knees, was masturbating into a vat of its own semen. Qhala could only guess how timeless the mess was; she who had seen (and done) a great many utterly depraved things found herself stricken by the audacity of the display.

A snort and a grunt. The beast glanced over its hairy shoulder, peered at Qhala over a short damp pig snout and screamed in a muddy concoction of rage and shock and thrill. It took the stupid beast a moment to realize that its interrupted masturbation was about to be supplanted by a small, tight adventurer to fuck.

Qhala stared at the beast's grubby face. Before she could wonder if she had perhaps made a mistake in taking on this quest, she was set upon by the incuwine, snatched in its massive and sweaty grasp. It squeezed her - but only firmly, as if testing her consistency. When she did not scream or break, it snorted (mercifully far from Qhala's unprotected face) and dropped her on the water-smoothed floor, where she landed on the thick padding of her bottom with a bump and a gasp.

A leer, gigantic and sleazy but somehow cretinous made its home on the pigbeast's tusked face. It prodded her prostrate, aglow body with chubby fingers, pushing her tits like buttons and fingering the flare of her hood as an infant would poke and jab a passive, sleeping dog. Its erection, a gigantic and peculiar thing of tapering shape and overabundant textures, hung beneath a sweaty gut but above a low-hanging scrotum larger in width than Qhala's torso.

She sat up, once swatting off the beast's fingers before it could push her down again. It growled as she made herself upright, but regarded her with clear lust in its milky eyes.

Hood flared for the purpose of intimidation, Qhala pushed herself on the behemoth, putting hands on its stomach. The hide was tough, but pliant. Stretch marks pocked it wherever she looked and a slime she guessed was saliva dampened it in big splotches.

"You'll cease terrorizing the villages around here," said the snake, her tone a matronly one; scolding but warm. "Do you understand me? I believe you must be smarter than you look..."

The beast huffed rank, hot breath across her face and narrowed its eyes. Whether it understood or not was unclear, but Qhala noticed petulance in its behavior.

"Very well, if that's how you wish to be - I offer myself in lieu of the villagers and their livestock," Qhala said. "Some might find it ignominious to offer a monster the pleasures of flesh. I see it as more civilized than a blade through the cranium."

She fondled the monster's erection, tail swishing, body glowing brighter and brighter. The incuwine was a disgusting unwashed beast, brimming with a malodorous scent which Qhala could compare, only slightly, to the time she'd ridden a stallion across the desert then given it a thorough licking from stem to stern. But then, as now, the stink of musk was a thrill. A more normal creature would have cut off their own nose to escape the smell of the incuwine, but Qhala pressed her lips to the beast's penis and inhaled through her nostrils. She fondled its ballbag and drank the precum which oozed in response. She cared very little for the village or her equine prize given for saving it; the swine beast was a prize all its own now.

A low squeal from the incuwine accompanied its grind into her face. It groped at her dumbly, feeling across her hood, once pinching her painfully though she chose not to react and spoil the moment.

Qhala stroked downward, eager fingers tweaking and catching on every nub and rib of the penis. Her tail swished faster and faster, its arc wide and dreamy and perfectly in line with the wetness running down her thighs. She kissed the head of the incuwine's member and was fed a globule of precum so thick and voluminous that she was given pause and found some difficulty in gulping it down.

Lips stained with the beast's pre and scent, the cobra stroked downward, over the curve of the scrotum. On any well-endowed male, the balls were Qhala's second-favorite thing - sometimes the first depending on her mood. Though the swinebeast was hung remarkably well, its balls were out of proportion, throbbing in their wrinkled pouch with the girth and heft of cantaloupes. Qhala caressed them, letting the penis throb idle against her nostrils. The sheer amount of semen the monster held was a mystery which Qhala was eager to solve.

She had wanted to at least lick the incuwine's balls; savor the flavor of musk and sweat on the taint; and of course drag her tongue at least once across the monster's anus. There was no limit to Qhala's affinity for the beast's scent now that she was attuned to its bizarre flavor. But her loins ached, demanding sex and satisfaction from the penis her face was presently hogging. Her markings were brilliant in the gloom of the cavern. She thought they might have had a transfixing effect on the pig monster; how else could she readily explain why she wasn't currently in several pieces across the lair?

But if the mesmerizing shapes of Qhala's markings were staying the beast somehow, this property came to an end when the snake turned and presented herself, body bent and tail held high. She didn't have to sway her lovely ass side to side nor give herself a smack to make her hide give a tantalizing jiggle; the mere act of offering made the swine huff and snort. Qhala felt the humid blast on her back and shivered.

"Mmm, well, here you are," spoke Qhala with all her poise. "I am, with no caveats, yours for the taking... just so long as you--."

The cobra couldn't say a word more. Savvy though she was, used to overlarge phalluses and overeager partners wielding them, Qhala was still shaken when the incuwine grabbed her by her hips. It was snuffling almost pleasantly, grinning from ear to flyblown ear. Slobber glistened on its chin, falling on Qhala's back and rear in heavy rivulets.

Things were looking promising. The pigbeast rubbed its member on the snake's soft, slick cuntlips, parting them awkwardly. Its cockhead tweaked the hood of her clitoris, making her moan and grip her knees more tightly. "Mmm, you've certainly got the right idea, my handsome beast," she sighed.

It could have gone so smoothly. Even the most uncoordinated push from the monster (and Qhala knew from its reputation that it could manage such a thing) would have thrust its enormous slab of cockmeat into the slick and ready passage of her pussy. It should have gone that way, too - but Qhala was as used to misfortune as chained orgasms.

Whether intelligently or under the guiding hand of dumb chance, it dragged its cock up across the split of Qhala's cuntlips - causing her a gratuitous shudder in the process - and then the slippery head notched against the pucker of her anus. That was when it started to push forward.

Qhala's eyes went wide. Her jaws set and a hiss, more chagrined than naturally reptilian, passed her pursed lips. The incuwine's chubby cock speared open the delicate but exhaustively well-trained walls of her ass. Overabundant precum smeared across her flesh, eliminating any and all friction the penetration would have otherwise wrought, but there still remained that stretch to contend with. A shudder passed through Qhala's body, her lovely glow surging with it. Her unloved cunt drooled moisture down a thigh.

As the sweating and heaving and giddily squealing monster began to buck and grind, Qhala's thoughts were far, far away from the village she had offered to save. The stallion (possibly plural, she tended to be unsatisfied at just one) which she meant to claim as a prize would hardly be a satisfying partner once she had thoroughly drained the melon-sized oblongs of the monster's balls.

Sometime between the drooling creature's first clumsy thrusts and the eventual, inevitable, and incredible release into her bottom, Qhala made the decision to simply make the incuwine her pet. Pigs, she had been told, were intelligent creatures anyway - and she plainly had a fine leash to guide him by in the form of her own body.

But that came later. The time for senseless stretching and improbable pleasure was now. The incuwine, exhausted from its climax and caring little of the impressive spectacle of its semen gushing from Qhala's gaped and throbbing and swollen anus, fell back on its gigantic ass. Ancient rock shuddered beneath it. Rolls of sweaty fat heaved and a squealing, asthmatic noise of satisfaction scraped past its lips.

Qhala turned to face the beast, staring at its falling erection. She licked her lips; licked her fangs; smiled rather deviously at the narrowed but now much less accusing eyes of the pigbeast. "A wonderful start to things, my dear pork roast," Qhala teased. She stepped over a large, splayed leg and nudged into its greenish hide with her foot, then her hands, causing brief depressions in the thick blubber. The spongy hide of the beast sprung up as soon as she took the pressure off.

Mere suggestion did the job. Complacent in afterglow, it rolled, snuffling tiredly as it went. The colossal, tubby hemispheres of its ass were unguarded by its scaly tail which hung slack and aside, made lazy with orgasm like the rest of the animal.

Smiling and wet, already enamored by the stench of the incuwine, Qhala leaned on its thick bottom from the side. Like leaning across a table to reach the bowl of candy at the middle, she bent over the cheek as she outstretched her hands. The strong warmth of the slovenly monster appealed greatly to her; she thought it could be quite a cuddly companion so long as its needs were kept satiated.

Qhala pulled the cheek toward her as though pulling open a cellar door. Down between the cheeks, winking and pink and ripe with musk, was the pucker of the thing's anus. Deviant notions beckoned to her. Fervent pleasures of a slutty mind; an overwhelming desire to savor the most intense musk she had yet encountered. Yet she let the cheek go, hiding the prize. She massaged the animal's buttock softly, then patted it as one would fondly pat a dog.

"Soon, very soon," Qhala cooed. "Oh, I believe we'll become very close."

She heard the drone of a snore. A smile, vaguely maternal and loving either way, took over her beautiful face. She climbed onto the pig's warm back, nestling into bare hide, finding the hair too likely to tickle her. She snoozed as easily as the monster did. And when it awoke hours later, hot and bothered as any male tends to be after rest, Qhala was there to further ingratiate herself to the monster.

That little village was never again bothered by the incuwine.