A Trio of Smaller, Separate Stories (With 3 Illustrations!)
Three stories submitted together, due to their shorter lengths. All illustrated!
A Trio of Smaller, Separate Stories by Amethystine
(Uploaded Together, thanks to SoFurry's Lower Limit on Story-Size)
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A Tiny Tale For A Talented Tail!
~A Tiny Story For my friend Nay, and her loveable 'Loba', Sheba Windstorm - by Amethystine~
(Art above by WhiteMantis. You can go praise her on her post of this picture (and see it full-size), here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/5855591/ )
Sheba hadn't been sure why she almost instantly jumped into the water after the foolish, falling crewman.
He had been the only one clumsy enough to get himself thrown overboard by the savage waves that had been buffeting her ship in the sudden storm. Adding to the overall confusion of the moment was how, in the late afternoon, such a violent tempest had arisen in so short a time.. and had then completely died off, leaving the skies all but clear to display the dazzling sunset that illuminated the pair as they dragged themselves onto the deserted shore.
Still on her hands and knees in the waves, she paused and pushed herself up, turning somewhat. Looking back out to sea, the captain's golden eyes scanned the horizon for 'A Dama das Ondas', but saw nothing, save for the calm seas, slightly shimmering in the setting sun. Far from being worried at the lack of her ship -and with it, her crew- in her present situation, Sheba grinned. A rather toothy specimen of smile, it was laced with equal parts mirth, madness, and paradoxically, maschismo. She was sure that her capable crew could and would come find her, no matter where she was.
She was also further assured in her love of the sea, despite its last outburst. 'Only the on ocean,' was her thought, one that she could recall thinking many times before, during spectacular battles with the navy, while marveling at the apparently bottomless beauty of the briny depths, and while plundering her beloved treasures (both material and male in nature). On that very day, she had seen the sea lash out at her, then offer up something of an apology in the astonishing vista that the sunset and the waters created, as if the giving gold-gilded waves to the were-woman while looking for forgiveness for its folly.
"A cruel mistress be the sea.. just like me!" cackled the captain, considerably pleased by her own rhyming jest. Turning to her shipmate, she found him dazed and bedraggled in his salt-soaked clothes, and looking at her with a mixture of confusion, concern and.. carnal lust..?
Looking down at herself, the lycan rolled her eyes. Oh, right. She had turned into her feral form to fish the floundering fellow out of the foam. Her clothes were of little consequence.. even if she had rather liked that particular outfit. Glancing back at her dumbstruck underling, she still wasn't sure why she had dove in after him. Someone else could have. After a moment of pondering while the crewman's eyes poured over her body (interspersed with furtive glances away as he tried to resist temptation), she decided it must have been because she's such a good captain (said quality being akin to the sky being blue in her estimation, it was just a fact).. or something about her fated destiny to be a deity.. not to mention her unwavering devotion to her 'boat boys'.
'Even the less cute ones..' she thought, sparing a thought for her green-locked lieutenant. The thought of having the weresnake there with her on the beach in a similar state of undress caused her to recall the roving eyes of the one she had rescued, reminding her to take command, if only over the solitary soul that was there. Not bothered by her bare body, she bounded up onto her footpaws and stood before him with her hands on her hips and merrily laughed, "What's the matter, haven't you seen a naked goddess before?!"
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~'The (Lab) Coat' Or 'NagaNay + NagaNegra: How Did That Happen?' by Amethystine~
She always did love how that lab coat looked on him.
It looked a little tattered now, somewhat frayed around the edges as well as slightly stained on the extremities. Places like the wrist-cuffs or the elbows, and especially the low hanging bottom hem.. but not the back of said region, where it was held away from the ground by his thick body. Conversely, the other part of the bottom hem, the front flaps, were extra wide so as to be able to come together into a double layer of protectively-treated material over the wearer's front. But he never did fold them shut and button it up, both because of the heat and to avoid impeding his scutes in their smooth form of locomotion.
She was glad he didn't close up the coat, because it always seemed to hang open in just the right way to accentuate his altered anatomy, showing off his shifted shape, presenting his pythonic perfection properly. Or maybe that was just her imagination, integrated with her infatuation.
Aside from her aesthetic appreciations, the open coat also meant that the flaps hung down on either side of his white-streaked sides, having become nearly as brown as the scales of his back, thanks to how they dragged in the dirt and sand.. unless he made a concentrated effort to 'stand' taller as he slithered. That was something they both had begun to do less and less, leaning more and more forward as they flowed over the forest floor. They found that it felt more natural, not needing to strain their serpentine spines to remain constantly upright, which they realized was unnecessary, thanks to their isolated environs.
She was always more into their new bestial bodies while he resisted their new naturalistic natures.. which only led to chances for her to play at being anything from a feral female on the prowl for an unsuspecting snakeman from some city.. or the inverse: an innocent creature of the forest who the 'evil scientist' might capture and study 'for science'.. but mostly the first, 'feral' formation of the foreplay. Her heated 'hunts' for him let them both act accordingly, his human-acting and her primal-portrayal, both being brought to a blissful boil by the other.
In accordance with their additional animalistic attributes, she kept telling him he could do away with his coat, that he didn't need it any more.. not here, in this new, wondrous place. He sometimes replied to that point with his own: That, in this place, he needed it more than ever. He said that it was the only thing left that he had that retained his connection to his humanity. Well, apart from the shape of his torso and head, but those were both covered in scales and held hidden hints of further reptilian revision. Such as the two-tined tongues and the slim-slitted eyes.. although he had to admit he was fond of the forked flicker, both when he used his to tease the tips of her pointed ears.. and when she used hers to torturously tantalize the twin tips of a wholly _other_ ophidian modification to his mass.. one that was much more.. mature.
That particular pythonic permutation is one he would like to keep, should the opportunity to return to their original world ever present itself.
...Aaannnd, coils are comfy, he had to concede.
He would remove the coat and neatly fold it up as best he could, laying it out over his own lined-up loops to keep it off of the ground. It was the same way he had folded it, on the bed they shared.. and she couldn't help but think that things were much the same now, as his plentiful pile of powerful python-body was the closest thing to a bed they had, as well as being something they shared. And while he did indeed remove the stark white garment before they slept, smoothly entangled within one another, he also took it off to preserve it in poorer conditions, lest he lose it.
There were times when, after a particularly piercing patch of precipitation had pounded itself into the pale piece of clothing, making it appear painted on in places, when she would watch him peeling it off of his brown, bare scales, and she could only just quite manage to contain her carnal cravings within her cream-coloured coils.. and other times when she couldn't, _wouldn't_(!), wooping wildly and winding him with her eager exuberance. Technically, it was the strong serpentine strikes that left him winded, and on his back, more often than not finding himself with a pair of partly pink breasts blessing his chest as she hissed triumphantly in her little victory.
One evening, while the sun was setting over a desert they had just discovered, he had decided to doff his coat, for the night, for the sand, for the heat that suddenly spiked as they had slithered out onto the rocks that bordered the barren sea of sands. Meanwhile, her heat had also peaked, once again catching him as he began to strip, stopping him before he could even extract either extremity from the slim sleeves. They landed in a lovely lump of loops, libidos already lighting them up as the sun's own light lowered in the sky.
Her fingers lingered over the logo on his lab-coat's breast pocket. An exploded diagram of a molecule, the four rings around a small sphere, aligned in a way that almost seemed to form a star. She had seen it thousands of times, but the contact with it, then, as their coils contracted into a cuddle.. it made her mind meander onto the memory of that day.. a thought that faded almost as soon as it formed.. a momentary memoir of the mysterious men and peculiar place that produced their present predicament.
While she teased his collarbone with her flickering tongue and traced his scute-lines with her fingers and he begins to hiss and twist under her torture, his body will bend and beg for blissful release before he's bound to begin his counterattack upon her.. and while they revel in their reptilian sexuality, the thought, the memory, remains for us to see.
~
It was a science lab. A physics one. She was sure he had told her it was a specific sort of physics, but all she needed to know was that if it was a lab in which he wanted to take a tour, it would be focused on physics, first and foremost.
He had been wearing the coat, even then. Just as a bit of fun, to envision himself as one of the staff there, rather than still a student.
She held his hand and tried to keep up, both with the group and with the topics, but she wasn't a student of science like the other attendees. She appreciated the aesthetic of the new architecture and the advanced, alien-appearing apparatuses. Her superior imagination had been snared by a certain section of scientific set-ups, and she had drifted closer to them, captivated by the long, rolling, coiled cables that must have conveyed considerable quantities of power or data from one half of the room to the other, such was the extent of the foot-thick, tubular, looped lines. She realized that those tubes were hooked up to huge banks of computers on either side of the room, which were themselves connected to towering Tesla coils.
The conspicuous space in the centre of the room between the banks, with their looming, humming.. increasingly loud electrical hissing. The thoughts she had been preoccupied with, thoughts of a world with great seas, pirates and personable pythons.. they vanished as her boyfriend returned to her side and asked what she was doing in the middle of the experiment they were supposed to be observing.
She was about to answer with what she had been thinking about, she was about to apologize.. about to shuffle back into the group, when there were panicked shouts from behind a pane of glass, and a sudden spike in the sibilant sounds seeping from the strange sciency structures. Then, silence.
What the onlookers could not know was that they were transported. That was clear to them, the travellers.. but to where, they were not sure.
He would eventually surmise something science-fictiony, that in the infinite possible parallel worlds, one would be a match for her mental meanderings. A wild world. One where humans did not exist. And so, rather than have them stick out as strangers in a strange land, whatever weird wavelengths that hurled them there also decided to conform their bodies to the established, exotic embodiment of entities that existed there.
As their shapes shifted and grew, the only piece of clothing left pristine was his loose-fitted lab coat.
Everyone else witnessing the accident had simply heard quite the loud pop as the two 'poor lost souls' disappeared, presumably disintegrated.
~
A rather different pop was produced in the present as the serpents slipped and slid in amongst one another, their bodies basking in the last, burning glow of the setting sun, the scent of sex heavy in the air. The aroma was especially apparent to their aptly attuned tongues, which danced in the spaces between their faces, the ever-present smell of their respective lovers as well as the maddening mixture caused by their mating was driving their desires higher and higher.
The pop was created by the male's own pair of 'Tesla coils' as they sprang free from his vent and into the waiting clutches of her thin, tapered tail.. winding around their bases and infusing them with even more energy, much like the lab's looping cables and towering teslas. The two serpent's endless enthusiasm for each other feed back and forth through one another, building and building in a loop of love.. all of it beginning to focus on his phalluses, electric sensations shooting through both their adult areas.. all but arching through the air between the boy's bulb-tipped heads in the form of lightning bolts, like the Tesla coils she idly imagined them as.
She knew how much power was in them, and she wanted to plug them into herself as often as possible!
He knew that his power came from her. She recharged him day after day, so it was his pleasure to fill her with his hemi-batteries whenever she desired.
A blend of the impossibility of both her imagination and of his physics made real.. they were, when combined, a pythonic perpetual (e)motion machine. :}===<
(Art above by WhiteMantis. You can go praise her on her post of this picture (and view it full-size), here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/5855694/ )
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Stories (and Sketches) Within Stories!
~The Story About Reading a Story While Someone Drew This Story - by Amethystine~
Based on the following illustration by Paint, the Fire Skink (As is clearly shown in the story!) Please visit (and praise!) her original posting of the picture (and view it full-size), here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4287985/
Secondary story title - also by Paint
A sibilant voice issued from a slightly ajar door. The door was somewhere deep within a long, low house. The aged, thick wooden door opened into an old-fashioned looking parlour with wood panelling and rows and rows of bookcases, containing books.. as well as the odd knick-knack or sentimental keepsake as a bookend here and there.
The owner of the hissing-voice was coiled up on one side of the room, reading aloud from a book he held with one hand, most of the time.. the other hand free to gesture. His tailtip also occasionally got into the act, but more rarely. Looking closer, one would have realized that the reptile was actually 'sitting' on a couch, but his large, long loops rendered it nearly unnoticeable, quite close to being cocooned with coils. They were draped lazily over it, rather than squeezing around it in spirals, though.
Across from the orating ophidian was one member of his small audience, listening with rapt attention.. as well as hanging upside down from a large, intricately patterned abdomen, a thick webline/dragline extending to the ceiling high above. A spider, completely covered in the classic colour coupling: Black and white. His agile-looking lowest legs, which were technically the highest in his pendulum-like position, held the line tightly above where it exited from the tip of his bulbous backend, where his spinerettes sat at rest in mid-thread. He swayed slightly in the light motion of the air within the room, three pairs of arms tucked up, crossed against his front as he listens with wonder to the story the snake was telling.
Lastly, one would notice the single rather obvious and glaringly non-traditional aspect of the room's design, the back wall. It was made of thick, aquarium glass and framed by large, heavy curtains. The curtains were open, and a semi-anthro sharkman floated silently behind the clear wall of glass. His position pulsed with the subtle sway of the salty sea sequestered within his tank, and his legless tail of a lower body, with its triangular tailfins, would sway very slowly from time to time to keep him up against the glass, his clawless, finny fingers pressing to the pane to keep his sensitive snout from sliding forward and bumping into it. He also listened intently.
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The passive observer of the trio, who had silently entered the study, suddenly became more active as she sat down into a high-backed, leather, over-stuffed armchair, plopping down onto her plump tail with a sketchbook already flipped open to a blank page, beginning to recreate the recreational scene in front of her. The others paid her no mind, but it was clear that they noticed her presence. Perhaps 'serpentine story-time' was so sacred as to not allow any one of them to deal with an interloper in the midst of the python's prose.
Or, perhaps, they knew her. Somehow. But that couldn't be. The three males have never seen the skink before in their lives, and neither had the fiery-fleshed female seen them.
And yet, she sketched them and they almost seemed to pose perfectly for her. Her red-scaled hands flew over the wide page of the firm-backed flipbook and as the couch-coiling constrictor continued his tale, the time spent sketching seemed to stream swiftly past. She adjusted her thick, orange hat from time to time, not paying attention to Amethystine's anecdote until almost about to announce her drawing's denouement. As she fixed and finished fins and fingers and faces, she casually caught a couple of the coily creator's coy consonant couplings.
Slowing down as her sketch started to perfectly portray the people before her, the skink heard the snake referring more and more to a particular person. A woman, instead of the all male (sausage) party she had detected in the tale as she entered. Her interest piqued, she listened more closely as she added some lines to the glass pane of the water tank upon her paper.
"..the water tank upon her paper," was what she heard the snake say, then continue. That was odd, it sounded like the seamless sibilant storyteller had to repeat a line when she had really tried to listen to one, as if her attention had made him start those six words again. She shrugged it off and continued. She listened here and there again, more and more 'mistakes' by the amethystinian author, it sounded like he repeated himself every time she listened intently.
She finally finished her photographic-like likeness of the lamia, the little lug and the liquid-liver.
"...and the liquid-liver," Ame said (seemingly for the second time), then stopped, apparently waiting for something.
"I'm all done!" announced Paint.
"..announced Paint," the python said softly, before continuing to talk more softly about some python talking softly. He then quickly finished the story by saying something about a snake accepting a sketch and ushering a skink out of a room before the universe collapsed in on itself.
Meanwhile, as he was talking, Amethystine got up, slithering from around the couch to guide the girl back outside again, handing her some money and thanking her for her services, but warning her against thinking too hard about her visit.
Just before closing the door in front of her, Ame said one last thing to Paint: "The End!"