Cecilia
My half of an art/story trade with Meanybeany. His half can be seen here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6268726
My half is this story.
*****
Cecilia
By Strega, for Meanybeany
Cecelia woke up hungry. Stretched out half under the the covers the pale green serpent nosed her lover on the shoulder. It took a flick of her tongue to get his eyes to open, but as soon as they did he smiled.
Harry was a thin man, none too handsome and none too smart, but he knew a good thing when he saw it. He peeled back the blankets so he could admire her; seven feet of green, smooth-scaled snake, thick as his thigh. Amber eyes looked back lovingly as he stroked her, but there was a need in them that he recognized at once.
"Hungry, dear?" he said, and she nodded. She coiled up on the sheets as he looked her over. Her head was small for her body size, hardly as wide as his hand, but he knew already how wide her jaws could gape. It was hard to believe he'd known her less than a day.
It'd been five in the afternoon when the package arrived. A wooden box, stapled with steel at the corners. The packing label was torn, with just the last few numbers readable, and those matched the address of the farm. He could tell neither the contents nor the intended destination, if it were different, and so he shrugged and carried the box in. By the time he saw it the UPS truck had vanished in a cloud of dirt road dust, anyway.
The crate turned out to contain a smaller but equally sturdy box...and this one had air holes, which on further examination the large box did as well. For the first time he wondered if opening it was such a good idea. Still, it was not a very big box, and if it'd contained something particularly dangerous it would have warning labels. Once more he shrugged, popped off the last staple, and opened the inner box.
And inside it was...a snake. Harry blinked, taking a step back, but it didn't seem very threatening. Just a little snake, pale green, somewhat thick-bodied but less than three feet long. The little triangular head swiveled around to peer at him; the eyes were surprisingly large, yellow, and beautiful.
Beautiful? Harry shook his head, but the impression lingered. There was a darker green stripe down the center of the snake's back that led to an arrowhead shape on its head, wrapping around and emphasizing the eyes. Smooth, sleek, cool. He knew she would be cool to the touch. When she lifted her head and waited, he reached out without thinking and let her coil around his arm; she only weighed a pound or two. The radio was playing an old, half-remembered song, and he picked a name from the lyrics.
"I'm going to call you Cecilia." He lifted her up so he could look into her eyes, and was somehow not surprised when she spoke.
"I like it," came the cool, hissing voice, and she smiled. It always looked like she was smiling, he realized, the way the line of her jaws curled up way back past her eyes. "What's your name?"
"Harry," he said, and they smiled at each other. "You're pretty, Cecelia. A pretty little snake."
By this time she'd made her way up his arm until they sat nose to nose. She flicked out her tongue, tasting his skin, and then dipped her head and slid into his shirt. Her cool presence made its way down his chest, supported by the lick of tail curled behind his ear. When she began to nose her way beneath the waistband of his shorts, though, Harry became concerned.
"What are you doing, Cecelia?" and he reached up beneath his T-shirt to grab her, but things happening lower down made his hand freeze in midair. Something, her voice, the cool stroke of her along his skin, the thrilling amber eyes, had aroused him. Down in his shorts she encountered a stiff rod of flesh, and he gasped as the snake's mouth opened for him.
He'd never experienced anything like it. A narrow mouth lined with dozens of tiny, scratchy, inward-pointing teeth expanded around his cock. Her little mouth was far too small to accommodate all of it, but she was a snake, and as her head advanced, cool slick gullet unfolded over more and more of his length. Effortlessly she engulfed his shaft, and when her jaws unhinged to take in his balls as well it was too much. With a groan Harry unleashed his seed into her throat, and the same muscular contractions that tried to pull his cock deeper into her took the goo and sent it to her stomach. When the last of it was consumed she pulled back, disgorging his shaft and finally curling up to look him once more in the eye.
"I'm still hungry, Harry," she said with not a drop of fluid on her scaly lips. It'd all been swallowed. "Is there anything else I might eat?"
"Of course there is," Harry said after a moment to recover, and carried her outside. He was the only one here today, and would continue to be until Thursday when the farmer he worked for got back from the cattle auction. If it'd been a milk farm one person would not be enough, even for a few days, but beef cattle were more or less self-maintaining unless they got sick. His main job was to tend the chickens and goats and make sure the automatic feeders were working.
Cecilia's pale green head crooked too and fro, taking in the farmyard. The goat pen, the cattle fence behind that, the two half-wild cats by the chicken coop...ah, the chicken coop. Harry knew she wouldn't want anything out of the refrigerator, cold and dead. No, a snake wants live food, even if it isn't moving.
Inside the chicken coop the smell of dust, straw, ammonia. The hens clucked and hopped back as he entered, instead of clustering around to see if he had kitchen scraps. Maybe Cecilia made them nervous. With the pale green snake wrapped lightly around his neck and watching eagerly, Harry began putting eggs in a plastic milk jug with the top cut off.
Cecilia's patience expired as he grabbed the third egg. "Oh, please may I have one?" He head darted forward eagerly, but he moved the egg out of reach.
"If I start feeding you in here the hens will panic," he said reasonably. The snake retreated to her perch around his neck and petulantly clamped down a little. He smiled; she wasn't nearly big enough to cause him any discomfort. Halfway through filling the jug he turned toward the food, but Cecilia hissed in near panic. Harry shrugged and scrounged through the nests until he just filled the jug. Only then did he take her outside.
"Oh, please hurry," the green snake begged, and Harry obliged her by lifting an egg. The chicken coop door wasn't even shut when her head darted out, mouth agape to snatch up the white ovoid.
With a single lunge the egg was gone, and Harry watched as she curved her neck to push it down her throat. "More," she mumbled before the bulge even reached her thickest coil. Harry sat on the splintery wooden bench next to the coop and took another egg out of the jug, and found the green snake slithering down his arm toward the white bounty.
"Now now, mustn't be greedy," he laughed, and moved the jug out of reach. That still left the egg in his hand, though and her head hooked around his wrist to engulf it. This time she lifted her head as she swallowed and he saw the smooth white egg disappear into her gullet. Wonderingly he lifted a third, then a fourth egg, only to have each snapped up and sent down her bulging neck without pause. With that dispatched she swiveled her head around and stared him in the eye, but he shook his head.
"Four is probably enough for a little snake like you. I don't want you to get sick."
"Oh, please! Look, not even a lump," she complained. She shook her midsection, and though he'd had sworn there'd been one there a moment ago, she was a smooth, tapering green cylinder with no sign of suspiciously egg-shaped bulges.
"Well, I suppose." The jug was still two thirds full, so he picked up one egg after another. Giggling with glee she darted her head after each one, and before he knew it he reached into the jug and found it empty.
"Well, you are a bottomless pit, aren't you?" He held her out at arm's length, drooping between his hands, and looked for the expected swelling in her middle. And yet there wasn't one! Harry blinked; the same smooth, tapered form, small head and eyes. She did feel quite a bit heavier, but there was no distension in her midsection after swallowing her own weight in eggs. And...was she longer? She'd been barely three feet before, now she was closer to four. No, that was impossible. Surely he'd just underestimated her size, snakes being hard to judge that way.
"More," she said, and looked him in the eye, but Harry shook his head.
"That was all the eggs, and probably as much as you should eat at one sitting."
"Look at me," she said, "And tell me I look too fat to keep eating."
He just couldn't say no to her, because she was right. She didn't look full, or fat. "Well, maybe there's something." There are several stages to raising chickens, and some of the early stages allow for a great deal of loss. Namely the eggs...and the chicks.
"Well...could you eat a chick? A baby chicken?"
"I just did," she hissed. "But yes, I could."
"All right, but I don't want to watch. I'll just stick you in the incubator and you eat a few until you're happy, all right?" She nodded, and he took her into the section of the barn that housed the two big incubators. On any given day he picked out a dead chick or two, and occasionally a virus or fungus killed off a whole batch. He'd just blame the loss on something like that say he fed the dead ones to the goats, as usual.
He opened the incubator, put her in amongst the chicks and hastily shut the lid. Even so he saw her head dart out and her mouth distend around a hapless chick. Harry shuddered and sat on the old milking stool by the door. "Just call me when you are full, right?" She was a pretty little snake, but hungry.
He sat there, waiting for the call to open the incubator. The chirping grew frantic, then diminished; the chicks must be huddled on the far side of it, with her coiled on the other. Still she did not say anything. The minutes went by, and Harry daydreamed about striking it rich. He'd heard about a farmer who struck oil on his property and made millions. "What will you do now?", he'd been asked Supposedly the farmer had replied, "Why, keep farming until the money runs out."
He realized that the only chirping was coming from the far incubator now. None at all from the one with Cecilia. Suddenly worried, he jumped to his feet and opened it.
And found just her. Not chicks, not a one. Just Cecilia...and she was definitely bigger now. She'd gone in at four feet and here she was, six feet long and thick as his calf! It wasn't possible, but there she was.
"There weren't nearly as many chicks in here as you said," she hissed, and burped.
"But how?" Harry reached in and felt her midsection. No bulge, just the same smooth taper from small head to thickest coil, then back down to tail-tip. Proportionately the was exactly the same, just scaled up. Well, except that her eyes were about the same size, so they were much smaller on her larger face.
"Don't look at me, I am just a snake," she said with a giggle. Then, "I noticed a couple of hens in the cage at the end of this room. I don't suppose...."
He said no, of course, but then she wrapped herself around him and gave him a massage. A deep, kneading massage of muscular coils, and she was so much bigger now that it seemed almost natural when she worked her tail into the fly of his jeans and popped the buttons open one by one. Harry stood behind her as she lay stretched out on the bench, thrusting beneath her upturned tail, and found her lower body as cool and accommodating as her mouth. By the time he came she had nosed open the chicken coop reserved for the two prize hens and first one, then the other gradually changed from squawking, panicked birds to great bulges in her neck.
This time he saw it happen. As her jaws worked forward the birds were swallowed, as might happen with any large snake. He'd caught a big black snake once with its neck so distended around one of his chickens the white skin showed between the scales. With her, though, the bulge of bird never made it to her midsection. It simply blended in with her tapered body, becoming part of her. How she managed that trick he did not know, and as he came inside her he forgot to ask.
He did up his fly and hefted her up onto his shoulders as he took her back outside. She weighed at least thirty pounds now, and draped like a massive fur stole on either side of his neck. He was surprised to see it was dark already, and despite a whispered assurance that yes, she could eat more, he headed to his bedroom. It seemed perfectly natural to flip back the covers, plop her down, then stretch out next to her. He was used to turning in early and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Cecilia nosed at him, decided the time was not right, and slithered out of the bed to do a bit of exploring. She soon encountered the half-blind old Siamese that Harry's mother prized so. Though most of the farm cats were wild barn cats this one never went outside. Harry paid little attention to the haughty old cat, and when the dawn rolled around he never noticed its absence.
With each thing Cecilia ate, she grew incrementally more massive. Still, the locked windows and doorknobs baffled her, and prey was scarce inside the house, so eventually she curled up next to Harry and slept.
So the dawn came and he woke next to his lover, never noticing she was ten pounds heavier than the night before, and they made love on the rough linen sheets. She was big enough now that he could be on top, stroking her smooth green body as he thrust. When they were done he made himself eggs (the cold ones from the refrigerator he hadn't thought to offer her before; they were too small to interest her now) and toast while she waited impatiently. Then they went outside so he could do his chores.
When he was feeding the the chickens she talked him into letting her have a few. A weasel had gotten into the pen, he'd explain when the family got back. Four chickens were gone in five minutes, and Cecilia was another ten pounds heavier, though she showed nary a bulge. Forty pounds and eight feet of serpent rode his shoulders as he fed the goats, and her eye wandered to the half-grown kid, horns and beard barely growing in. A whisper in his ear, and "No," but she rubbed her chin up and down his chest beneath his shirt and promised him things. "Surely it is too big," he whispered back, but she was confident.
It was the largest meal, proportionally, she'd had yet. Even her elastic jaws strained to the limit and sensing her effort Harry straddled her and pushed the goat's rump, helping ease it deeper. Eventually her maw unlatched that one last critical bit and the goat slipped in, its bleating muffled by her scales. A massive bulge of goat that weighed almost as much as she did made its way ponderously down her neck. Harry leaned down and kissed her, not noticing - or not caring - that the bleating stopped. By the time he stood back up the bulge was gone and Cecilia stretched over ten feet long, nose to tailtip.
Ten feet long meant that the other goats were no longer impossibly large, and once again her eye turned to the nearest. Harry shook his head and stroked her flanks: "No", but her head darted out, her coils gripped a goat, and the slow and horrific consumption of another bleating meal began. One vanished, and then the next, and only her tail kept Harry from running in terror. That tail-tip slid beneath his waistband, though, and her amber eyes shot him a cunning glance, and even as she ate and grew he rolled on top, fumbling for his fly.
When he was done, for the fourth time in a day, Cecilia was eighteen feet long and there were no more goats. Back came her nose to give him a loving lick on the shoulder. "Thank you, dear. I was so hungry." Harry hugged her neck and smiled, and her tongue flicked out again, tasting him. Her tongue was thicker than his fingers now, black, forked, and glistening.
They stayed there for a while, a loop and a half of pale green serpent wrapped lightly around his waist. Cecilia had demonstrated her constricting abilities on chickens and goats, but Harry stroked her spine, trusting her. If his eyes seemed a bit glazed, as though half in a dream, no doubt it was just love. No one had ever paid him this much attention before, and he was grateful.
Then a calf bleated in the pasture, and her appraising eye turned in that direction. Perhaps, the subtle movements of her head showed, the calf was not too large. Yet it was near its mother and other cows, and those were. So she gave Harry a look, not pleading this time, but imperious, and nodded in the direction of the pasture.
So Harry set out to the pasture, cut the calf out from the held - the cows knew him, trusted him, more fools they - and closing the gate behind him, led it back to Cecilia. Wide eyed and blinking it surveyed this strange green thing, hardly bigger than itself but stretched out in a scaly tube. It scarcely protested as one coil and then another wrapped around its body, for she did not squeeze until her wedge of a muzzle came around. Only then did her muscles tense, and any outcry the calf might muster was muffled by the jaws gripped tight around its head.
Harry lay back against her coils, thick as his waist now, as the calf was devoured. Every part of her had grown except her scales. There were many more of those now, and she was as sleek and smooth as when she was three feet long. Eventually a great bulge made its way behind him, twitching and squirming with inner struggle, and he watched with idle interest as it gradually subsumed itself into her form. He could not see it happen but he knew she was growing, staying in perfect proportion. Where there was eighteen or so feet and three hundred pounds there was now twenty-five and six hundred, the calf absorbed into her mass. Her head turned and her now larger tongue gave him a lick, then she turned her attention to the cow pasture. To her educated eye the next largest calf was just small enough.
Her tail crooked around and stroked Harry's shoulder. When he did not react it gave him an impatient slap. "I like that one there in the corner," the cool voice hissed in his ear. "Bring it to me."
He shook his head, and the tail-tip wound itself around his neck. Not tight enough to choke, not yet, but the cool voice in his ear was just that much less friendly. "I'm so terribly hungry, Harry. Do be a dear and get me that calf."
"Yes," Harry said, and stumbled to his feet. He gave her neck a loving stroke as her wedge-shaped head rose to nuzzle his shoulder. She was easily large enough to devour him now, but the thought never occurred to him. "Yes, mistress."
The cows mooed at him curiously, but this was the man that checked their feeder every morning, the man who opened the gate to the pasture. It was not in their simple nature to realize he was leading the calf to its death, and so they placidly watched it go. The mother did take one step forward, then went back to munching grass.
Cecilia was less patient this time. The moment the calf was within reach she lunged, gripping its nose between her jaws. It frantic cry choked off as her advancing maw engulfed more of this new meal; the cows in the pasture lifted their heads, then went back to eating. A coil as thick as Harry's torso held the poor thing helpless as the snake's bottomless gullet expanded to take in the head and neck. It was the first time he'd seen the entire process: it took Cecilia less than five minutes to work herself, thinly stretched, entirely over the calf. It was like a sock pulling itself over a foot.
The calf was only a lumpy, twitching bulge now, and as she'd done with the eggs she formed an ess in her neck and pushed her meal toward her stomach. Assuming she had one, for what happened next was unnatural. The traveling bend in her smoothly scaled body pushed the great bulge down toward the thickest coil, but it never arrived. Instead the struggle ceased and the bulge began to smooth out. Harry smiled and stroked the beautiful, green-scaled snake as the last traces of the lump disappeared. Five hundred pounds of half-grown calf were part of her now, part of a smoothly tapered body thirty feet long.
Cecilia lifted her head, larger than a man's now, and considered the remaining calves in the pasture. They were too small to be of great interest to her. Few of them were even half her weight, hardly worth considering.
The adult cattle were another matter. Even the smallest must weigh as much as she did, and her black tongue flicked as she considered which to take next. Eventually she decided, slightly to her regret, that the smallest of the adults would have to be the one. Soon enough her jaws would fit around the others, but she must be patient.
Harry sat enclosed by her coils from waist to armpits, her muzzle on his shoulder. One squeeze, one yawn and he would be gone, but instead her tongue flicked his neck lovingly. "I think I would like to meet the one with the least white," she cooed in Harry's ear.
"Yes, Mistress," he said, and climbed out of the pyramid of coils. Once again he unlocked the gate and entered, and still the cattle eyed him peacefully and let him loop a rope around the darkest's neck. This cow weight one thousand, two hundred pounds, fractionally more than even Cecilia, but the snake's amber eyes flashed greedily as it was led close. A spasm of green movement, a smothered moo and her jaws held its snout and thick coils of green serpent body encircled its torso. A hoof struck Harry in the thigh as the cow kicked, but though the impact staggered him he tottered in close to stroke his lover's neck as it expanded around her meal. She could squeeze the cow to death, but that would take too long. Her hunger must be fed, and fed quickly; already her jaws had taken in bovine head and neck and trapped its forelegs against its body. She found pleasure in being loved and rubbed as her distended maw took in its meal.
When the kicking hooves disappeared into her maw and the ess formed once more to push a vast bulge toward her midsection, her tail curled around Harry and pulled down his pants. As the cow was absorbed into her body, swelling her from thirty to fifty feet in length she pushed him impatiently down atop her. Even at this size, Harry found, she was cool and accommodating around his cock. It was simply that this time he did not need to thrust. Her tail lay atop him, tensing and relaxing as it forced him to fuck her. All he provided was the erection and loving hands to stroke her flanks. He had never been so needed.
When they were done Cecilia lifted her head - larger than Harry's entire torso now - and eyed the cattle. Fifty feet and over a ton of serpent slithered hungrily toward the pasture, needing her lover only to open the gate.
When the white vans showed up from the laboratory later that day, the cow pasture was empty. A great crease in the grass, growing in width and depth as it went, circled the field, passing over itself and the hoof prints of panicked cattle many times. It finally disappeared through a break in the fence and led through pushed-over trees to a groove in the ridge line. Had they the time to check, they'd learn another, much larger cattle ranch lay just beyond.
They did not have the time. As the vans slid to a halt a tremor pulsed through the ground as though an unthinkable weight had shifted. Beyond the ridge loomed a colossal green shape, a lifted head larger than a rail car. Past that a neck thick as the road was wide, and a still thicker body. Monumentally massive coils of pale green splintered the forest as she advanced.
As she came over the ridge the very ground began to shake. The field-stone boundary wall, older than any man alive, collapsed of its own weight. Nearby Harry sat with his back to the barn, smiling at his beautiful snake.
The last time he'd been with her she was a hundred feet long, thick as a car, and gulped cattle one after the other; nevertheless she turned her lower parts over and cradled him as he thrust. Large or small, she was always cool and smooth inside. His beautiful snake loved him as no woman had.
In the van panicked voices called out, and a hand darted for the radio handset. Through the windshield a vast maw yawned and a slick black tongue picked up the man by the barn and deposited him in the waiting gullet. The man did not struggle or flee; it would not have helped in any case.
The cavernous pink maw turned, ignoring the vans and their meager cargo of flesh, and descended into the forest. A great swathe of wood and grass and dirt was scooped up and swallowed, and as they watched the vast green shape grew still larger. She was three hundred feet long now and growing by the second.
A button was pushed; the radio handset was lifted. Four words were spoken.
"We are too late."