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He may have made a mistake.

Sarika had wrapped him in a gentle hold and taken him down from the basking rock, across the length of The Secret Womb’s back warehouse. With the help of Daisy and Summer, she had slithered from shipping crate to shipping crate, pulling out cushions and rugs, creating a pile of bedding that began to look more like a ritual circle than a place of medicine.

Michael was currently resting on a spread of pillows, watching Sarika stretch her twenty-foot long body. It was taking a lot of effort not to panic.

As it turned out, the “analgesic medicine” was going to be her venom.

Some instructional pamphlets had been provided. Inside, they detailed the long history of using snake venom as a cure for arthritis and erectile dysfunction. According to the pamphlet, the current scientific understanding of cobra venom listed the following effects: drowsiness, blurred vision, muscular paralysis, loss of pain, and a mild sense of euphoria. Deaths were very rare.

It all sounded fine, on paper. Of course, it didn’t change the fact that Sarika was going to fucking bite him.

At the moment, she was lurking at the edge of the pillow circle, hinging and unhinging her jaw. Her fangs glimmered in her triangular mouth, like knives in a dark alley.

Jesus Christ.

“You sure about this?” Summer whispered. “Austin’s going to flip her shit.”

With a pop of her jaw, Sarika began to slither around the circle, placing candles in a regular interval. Each one carried a different scent. Wood smoke, cinnamon, lavender.

“Mike,” Daisy said. “Hey. Look at me.” She kneeled on a nearby pillow, taking his hand into her paw. There was a warm smile on her face. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re right here. Just breathe.”

“Listen to her,” Sarika said, lighting a candle. “Fear will quicken the heart.”

Michael tried to control his breathing. It didn’t really help. After a moment, Daisy pulled him into her chest, close enough that she could bend down and give him a long, gentle lick across the face.

“Daze, stop—”

She licked him again. Her fur was soft and warm. With his heart pounding, and his back still throbbing in pain, Michael ended up relaxing into her embrace, letting her stroke his hair and nuzzle her snout against his head.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “You’re so brave. We know how hard you’re working, and we’re all so proud of you.”

He closed his eyes, breathing.

“My little man.” She kissed his forehead. “So cute. You’re as sweet as bone marrow, little guy.”

“Tone it down, please.”

“Oh. Uh. You’re as . . . tender as venison?”

“Just hold me.”

“Okay!”

They remained together. He sank his cheek into the fluff of her shoulder, focusing on nothing but the fur on his skin and the claws scratching his hair. For a few moments, there was peace.

“Are you ready?” Sarika asked.

He straightened himself. The cobra was making her way into the pillow circle, slithering over the cushions with a gracious ease. Her scales glimmered with the light of a dozen candles.

Was he ready?

Was this really what he was doing?

“Hey,” Summer said. “You. Lady.”

Sarika stopped, her torso swaying like a blade of grass.

The young hyena began to hesitate, forced to look up at Sarika’s rising gaze. “You better not—hurt him. That’s why we’re here. We’ll fuck you—I mean—we’ll step in, if you try anything.”

There was a pause. Candles flickered along the edge.

Summer cleared her throat. “Good. Yeah. That’s right. I ate pickled snake one time, like corn on the cob. I’ll do it again.”

“You are trying too hard, little virgin.”

Summer flinched.

“Here,” Sarika said, opening a palm. She dropped a syringe full of yellow liquid into Summer’s hand. “This is my antivenom. I am trusting you with its care—by consequence, that includes his health. Be the protector you wish to be.”

The black cobra continued to slither ahead. Summer looked at the vial of antivenom and flattened her ears.

With the guru approaching, Daisy tried to scoot to the edge of the circle. Without thinking, Michael kept a firm grip on her paw, trying to get her to stay. She blinked, lowered her ears in sympathy, and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“Okay,” Michael said. “I’m ready.”

Sarika glided her way behind him, leaving the bulk of her snake body lying flat and straight. She gestured to a curve in her lower abdomen. “Sit in my lap.”

Michael climbed onto the snake. Her scales were still warm from the basking session, and there was a sponginess to the skin on her belly, allowing his fingers to gently sink inside. Eventually, after some awkward maneuvering, he managed to sit in the small crook between her torso and snake body. It felt like sitting at the top of a warm, scaly slide.

Sarika gave a growling hiss. Slowly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back into her chest. His head was nestled between her breasts.

“Exquisite,” she said.

Quickly, her tail began to wrap around him—snaring his legs, reaching up toward his back, leaving everything below his chest swaddled in a dozen, circular coils. Each section of her body began to alternate in pressure, like fingers in a fist.

“Raise your arm.”

Michael raised his arm, keeping his other hand locked in Daisy’s grip. Sarika took his arm in both hands. There was a twist. The artery on his wrist was exposed.

“Mr. Man,” Sarika said. “Imagine your kundalini, deep within the spine. Imagine it as a heart, a source of boundless energy, now coiled with pain and want.” She squeezed his back, flexing several walls of muscle. “Imagine my coils as the ones that now imprison you.”

Michael focused on the feeling of her breasts, bouncing on his shoulders. “Okay?”

“Say it with me—I will release!”

“I will release!” Michael shouted.

Sarika popped her jaw, lunged forward, and sank her fangs into his wrist.

The effect was immediate. A sharp pain erupted in his hand, and a coldness began to seep through his arm, deep and oozing, moving with the speed of blood. His fingers were instantly numb. A shiver poured down his elbow. When Michael instinctively tried to yank his arm away, Sarika held him tight, forcing his wrist into the air, letting gravity drain his blood back toward his heart.

“Do not struggle!”

The coldness became a numbing wave, crawling through his shoulder, sinking deep into his chest, exploding in every direction once it struck the center of his heart. In seconds, the venom surged into his neck.

Daisy squeezed his hand. Summer whined from the side. Sarika lowered his arm, already pressing a bandage to his wound.

And, slowly, the pain faded away.

He felt calm. Peaceful. The fear drained from his body, from head to toe, arm to chest, belly to face, sucked from his skin like water through a straw, replaced with a sense of relaxation so deep that it left his muscles limp, his cheeks flushed, his fingers stiff, his body as heavy as a stone, his every awareness sinking into a lake of warmth and pleasure.

“Focus,” Sarika said.

A puncture in his arm. Claws on his chest. Some bone-deep throb, aching in his back.

“Breathe.”

He took a breath. The air was smoky, filled with spice. Every pain in his body began to dissolve, shrinking down to nubs and pricks, like stone crumbling before a river.

A river of blood flowing through his veins.

Numbness. Tingling.

Arms.

Legs.

A wrapping of scales.

He breathed again. Euphoria spread from his lungs, riding the blood, blossoming into waves, leaving him unable to do anything but sink into Sarika’s embrace. She was a pillar of muscle, and he was a sack of tingling flesh.

Her nipples were fully erect. Her tail crawled between his legs.

Her voice, like a wave.

“Exquisite.”

With rows of coiled muscle, she began to massage his body, moving up from his legs and down from his chest, spreading the pleasure in a sea of rhythmic contraction. Slowly, with his eyelids growing heavy, he realized that she was directing his attention toward the center of his body.

The base of his spine.

“Kundalini,” Sarika said. “Do you feel it, Mr. Man?”

There was still a nub of pain. Smothered and shrunk. Somewhere, in some numbing corner of his mind, he thought it had gained a shape.

A ball of energy, locked deep within.

The root chakra.

“Imagine my coils as the ones that bind your pain.”

She became a looping ring of muscle. For a moment, it felt like his waist was being squeezed in the fist of a giant, with each of the fingers pressing down on his wound. Meanwhile, just below, the tip of her tail slithered toward the hem of his pants, where he had a painfully hard erection.

He blinked.

He did have a boner. It was so absurdly hard that it felt like a bedpost instead of a cock. Sarika’s massages were coming in waves, kneading his muscles with an expert precision, and the contractions of her body were pooling the blood in his waist and groin, feeding every desire.

Aches. Pain.

“Release,” Sarika said.

His dick was freed from his pants, immediately springing into the smooth underside of her scales. With the dexterity of a hand, her tail began to guide his member through the rows of her lower body, bending through the pressure and muscle. By the end, his dick was thrusting between the tight gap of her coils, like he was trying to fuck his couch cushions.

Or the time Daisy had jerked him off with her armpit.

Wait.

Daisy.

He couldn’t contract his fingers. He couldn’t feel her hand.

His breaths were very heavy.

Shit.

“Focus.”

His vision was blurred. Outside, the ring of candles had melted into a single band of flame, like a horizon made of fire.

“Look at me.”

Fingers caressed his jaw. His vision was raised, bringing Sarika’s round muzzle into the sky above, like a black and olive sun. Her tongue tasted the air. Her eyes were very sharp.

“Look only at me,” she said.

He blinked. Somewhere, the ball of pain was being squeezed and rolled, bouncing in the depths of his body.

“Kundalini.”

The coils surrounded him. The coils were his prison.

“Feel the divine. Feel the goddess.”

Below, the lengths of her body began to pump his dick, squeezing back and forth, rolling in opposite circles, never maintaining the same pattern for long. Friction melded with heat. Pleasure spiraled through his core. If his muscles weren’t weak, if she wasn’t constricting his body from toe to ribcage, he would have eagerly thrusted into her lengths.

Meanwhile, her eyes were staring from above, savoring his every reaction. When a moan struggled up from his throat, she released a growling hiss.

“Exquisite.”

A hand on his chin. Breasts on his shoulders. Pain ebbing into pleasure, a wall of squeezing tendrils, like the fist of a mighty god.

He felt her beating heart. Thrumming on every coil, pounding at every angle, pressing down on every vein. He could barely breathe, and his lips were turning cold.

Oh, God.

“Do you see it, Mr. Man?” Sarika asked, flicking her tongue. “The kundalini is a circle. It is a coiling. It is the essence of the snake. To escape samsara, you must release the energy within.”

He felt a numbness, deep inside. He felt a pain so deep that it seemed a core of his soul.

Precum lubricating her scales.

Squeeze.

Slither.

Thrust.

“Feel the energy. Feel your kundalini.”

All together, in a wave of muscle and pressure, she flexed his back while milking his dick, the pressure and pleasure washing together, flooding the aches and pains. Slowly, the ball inside him began to uncoil.

“Mike?” Summer asked, a blur to the side.

“Look only at me,” Sarika said.

“Bitch, I’ll fucking—Mike! Say something!”

He groaned between her tits. Somewhere to the side, there were voices and motion.

“Release yourself, Mr. Man.”

The pain was swallowed beneath a tide of ecstasy, rushing from every corner of his body. He couldn’t resist. He was a marionette, full of blood, and she was wringing his body like it was nothing more than a vessel, containing the truth within.

There was something trapped inside. He was going to release.

Like the pull of gravity, right off a cliff.

“Release.”

Walls of scales, wet and rubbing. His soul squeezing through his groin.

“Release!”

In the base of his spine, something unraveled.

“Release!”

Michael came with a flood of venom and rapture. With a hiss, Sarika began to contract herself, drawing him out, enhancing every wave and throb. Fountains of cum erupted from the depths of her bondage. He painted the black mosaics of her scales. He flooded the valleys between her coils. He came so utterly fucking hard that a rope of cum went screaming past his head and splashed directly on a candle, dousing its light with a pop and a hiss.

Throughout his pornographic career, he had been brought to many orgasms. Most had been average. Some had been great.

This was something else.

The venom made him dizzy. His breath was gone. Everything tingled. Every throb of his cock felt like a wave of exultation, and, when the flood began to fade, it felt like he was drifting down from a formless heaven, resting on clouds of numbness and scales.

Slowly, his vision was filled with Sarika. She had been cupping his chin in her hand, forcing his gaze up through her breasts and into the golden path of her eyes. She had watched every twitch and wince. Savored every moan.

A hiss emanated through her body.

“Divine,” she whispered.

“Mike!”

Summer grabbed him with a paw and yanked him from the cobra’s lap, dragging his lower body from the depths of her coils. His open pants dangled along his knees.

“Hey!” she shouted, waving the syringe of antivenom in his face. “Breathe!”

He pulled for air. His chest barely moved. Summer pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and searched for a vein, her ears tense and flat.

Daisy moved her face into view. “Please say something.”

Their faces blurred into streaks of black and tawny gold. Michael blinked. After a moment, he said the only thing that came to mind.

“Holy shit.”

There was a growling hiss, off to the side.

Sarika had curled her twenty foot long body into a loose pile of ropes and scales. With a bend of her torso, she leaned forward and began to lick Michael’s cum from her scales. White pearls danced on a thin, black tongue.

“Are you beginning to believe, Mr. Man?”

Summer and Daisy looked between the cobra and Michael, eyes wide.

“Je’us,” he said. “Fuck. I. . . .”

What had he seen? His own pain, represented as a ball? The idea of an inner chakra, hidden all his life? He blinked again, and the feeling was gone.

It all seemed so fleeting, now that it was over.

“I wan’ nore.”

He tried to sit up, but his muscles were loose and numb, and a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him—in the end, he flopped into Summer’s belly, dragging his face against the fur below her crop top. She had to lower him to the pillows.

“Mike,” she said. “Your lips are blue. I didn’t know humans could be that color.”

Daisy gave a whine.

He tried to sit up again. Both hyenas pinned him down.

“Hey,” Summer said, patting the crook of his elbow. “I’ll give you the shot. Right now.”

“I’m vine! Fine!”

“You’re drooling! Dude, you look like a roofied prom date!”

He fought their grip. After a few moments, they let him succeed, dragging him back up to a sitting position. Nausea began to invade the numbness, lurking somewhere in his core.

He couldn’t help but think that they had ruined the moment.

“I veel bed—” Michael stopped, working his jaw. “I feel better.” He prodded his back with a clumsy hand. There was no shock of pain, no tension of muscle. Only a dull ache remained. It was the best he’d felt in weeks. “Id’s—working, whadever it is. I wanna keep going.”

The two hyenas glanced at each other.

“I’m telling Austin about this,” Summer said.

Daisy cleared her throat. “Well . . . it’s ancient medicine, right? It has to work. I mean. . . .” Her smile slowly returned. “I want to join. Yeah. I wanted to before, but now it’ll be good to be sure. Everything’s better with a friend, right?”

“Your assistance is welcome,” Sarika said. “The strength of an ox should not be wasted.”

Summer began to type on her phone, shaking her head. Michael glanced over at Sarika. The cobra was sitting on her own coils, finishing off the last of his cum with a slow lick of her fingers. She had thoroughly licked herself, and her scales now glimmered in the light of the candles.

“You are willing to proceed?” she asked.

Michael tried to reply. His voice never came. After a moment, he realized he hadn’t taken a breath in several seconds. There was a gasp for air. Drool leaked from his chin.

“Mr. Man,” Sarika said. “I am not forcing you.”

“Maybe . . . you should.”

Her mouth tilted open, baring fangs. Summer raised her hackles.

“Such a marvelous human,” Sarika said. “From the moment you limped through my door, I knew we could satisfy each other. Only the star of YEEN’D.com could withstand my practice.” She rubbed a spot between her naked breasts, where his head had been laying. Her hood began to flex. “We will move on to exercise. Physical conditioning. You have seen the kundalini—now, you must expand it.”

“How?”

“Pranayama.”

“What . . . ?” He stopped, blinking the blurriness away. “What is that?”

There was a flick of a tongue, sharp and fast.

“Breath control.”

---

He had probably made a mistake.

They had moved back to the terrarium at the back of the warehouse, amongst the rocks and jungle fronds, where dunes of red sand spread between the cliffs, and halos of UV light shined from the blackness above. At a glance, it reminded Michael of the set of Three Hotties 2, set in the outback of a terraformed Mars. There had been similar amounts of reds and greens and browns.

Sarika’s setup was impressive—if he closed his eyes now, he could imagine he was lost in a jungle, feeling the heat of the sun and the gentle whisper of the ferns. On the set of Three Hotties 2, Tammy had found the cheapest props imaginable, with plastic plants and fiberglass rocks. Any sense of immersion was ruined by the legions of crew lurking off the set.

During the filming, Michael had spent most of his time either clinging to the leg of his leopard costar, or getting raped by a ferret ice miner. His character had less and less dialogue with every passing scene.

He tried not to think about his job.

Earlier, Sarika had spread a yoga mat along the red sand, perfectly placed in the valley of two rocky abutments. Michael had been given water and salty snacks to regain his strength. Despite his eagerness to continue, she had encouraged him to rest.

Now, he was lying half-off the yoga mat, completely naked, with Daisy thrusting his legs into an amazon position, and Sarika wrapping herself around his torso. The tip of her tail formed a seal around his throat.

A mistake.

He had made one.

Probably.

“Raise his leg further,” Sarika said.

Daisy tightened a paw around his ankle and pulled his right leg further up, like she was adjusting the antenna on an old TV. “Like this?”

“The other leg. His injury is slightly left of the spine. Focus the stretch there.”

Daisy lowered his right leg and stretched out the left, bringing his foot nearly level with her breast. She was also completely naked. No one had told her to be, but Daisy said she didn’t want to feel left out.

Meanwhile, Sarika was working the length of her body around his torso. She had started at the waist, worked a tight spiral around his chest, stretched out toward his arms, and slowly coiled a bed of herself beneath his head, with the delicate skin of his throat receiving the thinnest part of her tail. In less than a minute, she was just as entangled as a pair of headphones.

The only thing he could move were his fingers. Even then, all he could feel was her.

Finally, when there was no more of her length left to wrap, she raised his body with a wave of flexing muscle and slithered her torso beneath him, slowly lowering him onto her chest. His hair nestled against her hood, and her scaly muzzle curled against his ear.

“Swallow,” she said.

Her tail tightened around his throat. Despite the pressure, Michael managed to collect some spit and swallow it down.

“Good. I can feel the struggle.”

“Awww,” Daisy said, lowering her crotch between his legs. “He’s like a baby, swaddled in blankets.”

“Yesssss,” Sarika said, hissing. “He is vulnerable. Helpless.”

“I know, right! So cute!”

Off to the side, Summer was sitting on a craggy rock, awkwardly watching the proceedings. The syringe of antivenom laid clasped in a paw. “You good there, Mike?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, wriggling. “Think so.”

“I’m right here. Just say something.”

“I will, Summer.”

“Just call me a charlatan, ‘cause I’ll be making snake oil.”

“Thank you, Summer.”

The young hyena hesitated. After a moment, she closed her mouth, growled, and folded her knees to her chest, watching the three of them with a curled muzzle.

“Mr. Man.” From below, Sarika curled her neck around his shoulder, meeting his eye from the side. “Listen to me.”

Michael squinted through the heat lamps and overhanging fronds.

“At any time, you may tap my body with a finger. I will open your airway. If you feel your life is at risk, do not hesitate.”

Michael found himself entranced by her eyes. The irises were gold, and her pupils were large and round, burrowing into his gaze like a drill through wood.

There was a pause.

“However,” Sarika continued, “in order to achieve moksha—that is, spiritual liberation—you must push your limits. You must go beyond what you think your body is capable. Only a heroic endurance will break the cycle of samsara.”

With a tail wrapped around his throat, and his arms pinned to the side, Michael blew a raspberry. “Have you seen my videos?”

She flicked her tongue. “Many times.”

“Yeah, well—Daisy chokes me with her thighs. Veronica sits on my face. And Austin likes to get her entire jaw around my throat.” He shrugged through the coils. “I can endure. Trust me.”

Sarika gave a growling hiss, letting it travel through the twists and turns of her body. “We will see.” She turned to Daisy. “Is he engorged?”

“Uh—a boner?”

Sarika flicked her tongue.

“Oh, yeah. Totally. Mike’s always ready.” She gave him some finger guns with his ankles in her hand. “Our little rockstar.”

“Good. Exquisite.”

Coils tightened around his chest. On the other side of the mat, Daisy grabbed his dick and began to angle it toward her slit, resting one of his legs against the fuzzy surface of her abs. Assuming the amazon position should’ve been inflaming his back—instead, he only felt a dull ember of pain, giving a sense of mild stiffness whenever she pulled his leg a little too high. He actually felt more limber than before the injury.

Maybe this was working, after all.

“Let us begin,” Sarika said.

Daisy speared onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in a single downward thrust.

“Breathe in. Slowly.”

Through the coils on his throat, the venom in his veins, and the hyena on his dick, Michael took a deep lungful of air. His chest expanded against the walls of scales.

“Hold. Full.”

She clamped on his throat, just enough to bend the trachea. Daisy squeezed him with her walls.

One.

Two.

Three—

“Release.”

The pressure abated. Michael blew out a breath as Daisy raised herself between his legs, leaving only his head inside. Fluid dripped down his length.

“Hold. Empty.”

The pressure grew again, slightly stronger, forcing his lungs to stay deflated. Above, UV lights shined like the stars of an alien sky.

“This is the essence,” Sarika said, watching him choke. The way she bended her neck was beginning to look unnerving. “A four pointed cycle. Learn the pattern.”

She released. He breathed.

They began to cycle through the motions of pranayama, becoming familiar with the rhythm. In and out, up and down, rise and fall. Two holds—one at the top, and another at the bottom. Through it all, the pain in his back began to wax and wane, stretching out the most whenever Daisy impaled her weight against him. A dull knob slowly knocking loose.

“Hold, full. Five seconds.”

Sarika clamped his throat and constricted his chest, slithering her coils in a circle, while Daisy squeezed his dick with the slick contours of her walls. His left leg was stretched into the air. Muscles began to tighten.

One.

Two.

God, the stretch.

Four.

Wait—

“Release.”

Sarika relaxed her coils slowly, guiding the air through his throat. Above, Daisy raised her pussy off his dick with all the mysticism of unsheathing an ancient sword. Skin dragged. The friction sent shivers down his spine.

“Hold, empty. Ten seconds.”

A sharp pressure grew in his trachea. She was squeezing very hard. Michael’s eyes widened as he instinctively tried to raise his arms, only to discover that both of his limbs were mummified beneath the coils of a massive cobra. He couldn’t even squirm. Not anymore.

Blood surged to his face. Tropical ferns swayed on the rocks.

“Daisy,” the cobra said. “Mate in earnest. Keep rhythm with his heart.”

The buff hyena paused, tweaked her hips, gave a wide grin, and began to pound Michael in earnest, simultaneously dropping her weight and pulling his body up to meet her. In a way, he was relieved, because this was familiar territory—the bouncing tits, the rushing slickness, the fur on his thighs, the wet, muffled slaps of his balls against her ass. Like coming home again.

Of course, this time, she was fucking him like a metronome. Precise strokes, consistent timing. Daisy loved to workout—she knew all about repetitive motion.

Soon, the pounding began to match his heart.

Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap.

“Breathe.”

Michael gasped for air, pushing his chest against the weight of Sarika’s coils. It felt like he had barely swallowed any air before she was constricting him again, slithering from armpit to chin.

“This is control, Mr. Man,” Sarika said, still watching his reactions. Her tongue flicked above his eye. “Pranayama is control over the breath. With the breath controlled, the mind is calmed. When the mind submits, the trance begins, and the true spirit is exposed.”

Michael stared up at the ceiling of the terrarium, trying to control his thoughts. All he could feel was a growing tightness in his chest.

“Concentrate. Witness your kundalini, once more.”

His lungs burned. His back stretched. At the front of his throat, he could feel his heart thrashing against the pressure.

Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap. Ba-dum, plap.

“We will go longer,” Sarika said, eyes like golden flame, “and even longer still, until you gain control.”

She didn’t release. He needed air.

His blood screamed against her scales.

Control.

His ankles in the air, a furry wall between his thighs, smashing down, slicking out, muscles bruised and strained.

Control?

In his mind, he felt Summer jerking him off. He braced against Austin’s thighs, holding his breath as she dragged her pussy across his face. On a sea of white sheets, Veronica was biting his shoulder, dragging a claw through his chest, mauling him into the perfect image of a whimpering rag, full of fur and shallow wounds. The poster child for YEEN’D.com.

Promotional image. Video thumbnail.

His body was always for sale.

Slowly, the terrarium began to fade away, like he was walking from a screen. Colors blurred. Darkness swallowed the edge.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came. There was a silent, desperate scream.

Control.

Shit.

Holy shit.

Control.

Understanding blossomed through the black, like a train screaming through a tunnel. He had to control his mind. Not his body. He would never control his body. The sex, the wounds, the stress, the embarrassment, the constant, never-ending hunger.

The mind was the key.

Control the mind.

With his heart pounding, his legs raised, and his lungs screaming for air, Michael used all the willpower he had gathered during his pornographic career, learned through countless bites and mauls. He took control of his mind. He resisted the suffocation. Slowly, he found a peace through the raging storm.

Nearby, Sarika had been watching him—with his vision growing hazy, she almost appeared like a black-scaled demon, lurking from the edge of oblivion. When she saw the look in his eyes, a shiver of ecstasy ran through her body.

“Divine!”

She released his throat. Blood surged. Michael gasped for air, filling his lungs, watching the lights and rocks swirl through the darkness above.

“Hold! Full!”

Another squeeze. Her tail brushed against the underside of his chin, sweet as a lover’s caress, while her coils slithered along his limbs, squeezing down, tasting the smoothness of his skin. Off to the side, there was encouragement in her eyes.

He needed more air. What he had was not enough. Every instinct was begging him to thrash and gasp.

But it didn’t matter.

He had control of his mind.

He saw his kundalini, deep in his spine, like a snake coiled around his soul. He felt it begin to unravel.

“Release!”

He released his breath, already holding at the bottom. Sarika tightened her entire body. His lungs were compressed, his diaphragm squeezed into submission. He could not take a single breath, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. Not anymore.

He was riding the high. Going the distance. Sinking straight into enlightenment. He was Major fucking Manly, and he had survived worse than this.

Deeper.

Harder.

Give me the pain.

“Exquisite! Oh, Mr. Man!”

She released. He breathed. Far away, at the edge of his body, Daisy was still fucking him amazon style, yanking his leg into the air, stretching the wound on his back. An orgasm was growing like a star, rising and bright.

He didn’t care. Just below, hidden beneath her fur, cocooned from the impact of muscle and pussy, his kundalini was yawning open, growing sharp and bristled at the edges. He could see the snake unraveling. Its coils spread open, like hair drifting through water.

Or was it just his pain?

Blackness at the edge. UV lights, piercing his eyes.

He was sweating.

Harder.

Harder.

Breathe.

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum—

Daisy sank herself to the hilt, drowning his cock in pressure and heat. She sat on his upturned rear. Slowly, he realized she was staring at him.

Sarika moaned in his ear, half full of prayer.

The build of an orgasm, smothering his kundalini.

Summer yelled.

Pleasure grew.

He realized, absently, that the world around him had shrunk to a distant point, and it was still falling away, faster and faster.

He took one last breath.

He shrugged against the coils.

He came into Daisy with little more than a shudder, like it was only a piece of himself, finally chipping away. The contractions faded. Pleasure swirled the void.

The last thing he saw were the UV lights above, swirling like the stars.

---

“Mike! Mike!”

A slap. Pain. Someone shaking his shoulder.

Reality swam.

“Mike!”

He opened his eyes, gasping for air, his hands thrashing through sand. The UV lights drew spots across his eyes. He saw red rock cliffs, swaying jungle ferns, a distant warehouse ceiling.

“You fucking bitch!”

Summer stood at the edge of the yoga mat, wielding a rock like a club. Off to the side, like a shunned animal, Sarika spooled her long body across the sand, flexing her hood and baring her fangs. Blood leaked from an olive mouth.

“Mike,” Daisy said, cupping his face into a paw. “Hey. Look at me.”

He blinked, meeting her eye. It took a moment for his vision to become solid. When he tried to speak, a ring of pain erupted on his throat, leaving him writhing and coughing.

“Try me,” Summer said, waving her rock in the air. “You flute-dancing bitch. I’ll charm this fucking snake.”

Sarika wiped the blood from her snout, swaying her torso from side to side.

“Summer,” Daisy said. “He’s awake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah!” Summer shouted. “That’s right! Good! Yeah!” She feigned a swing of the rock. Sarika didn’t flinch. “Talk to me, Mike!”

He coughed, trying to shrug Daisy’s paw off his face. “I’m fine.”

“Shut up! Daze, pick him up! We’re leaving!”

“I’m fine!” He attempted to sit up, felt a deep ache in his chest, and collapsed back to the yoga mat. “God, just—stop! I’m fine!”

“Dude,” Summer said, “you got choked out! She was schlicking off to it!”

In the harsh light of the terrarium, Michael noticed a trail of wetness leaking down from Sarika’s scaly waist, exactly where she had revealed her pussy before. The cobra made no reply.

“Whatever, look—” He tried to sit up again. Despite the dizziness, and the crust of cum on his legs, he managed to stumble back to his feet, waving off Daisy’s attempts to help him. “I was into it. Alright? It was working.”

“Listen to your friend,” Sarika said. “His passions are not your own.”

“Shut up!” Summer shouted, taking a cautious step back. The cobra slithered forward. “Stay back!”

Sarika opened her jaw, revealing a wide, triangular mouth. Her coils tensed and rolled. Ready to strike.

“Hey!” Michael yelled, trudging through the sand. “Stop! Okay?” He stood between the snake and the hyena, holding out his hands. “Guys, wait outside. I’ll be fine.”

Daisy’s ears flattened. “Mike—”

“Uh-uh,” Summer said. “No way.”

Sarika flicked her tongue.

“It’s my choice,” Michael hissed. “I want to keep going. If you don’t, you can fucking leave.”

“Dude, look at yourself.”

Summer opened her phone, turned the camera to selfie mode, and shoved it in his face. His skin was pale and sweaty, his brown hair disheveled, a fresh ring of bruises around his throat, already turning a sickly shade of purple. He looked like one of the junkies slumming near his apartment.

For some reason, this made him very angry.

“How is this different,” Michael said, “than what you do to me?”

“What do you—”

“You guys do this shit to me all the time. I mean, hey, God forbid that someone bites me or something, right? Imagine getting bruised, or clawed up, or fucked into a coma.” He threw up his hands. “How is it different now?”

Summer blinked, ears swiveling. “Cause it’s—it’s us, dude. That’s just for the camera. Come on.”

“Just for the camera? You pulled up my shirt, literally an hour ago, and licked me right in the parking lot. You know how humiliating that is?” He glared up at the hyena. “Shit, man—did I even hear the word “sorry”? Are you okay?”

The hyena cocked her head, as if completely caught off-guard.

“You sure are a fucking schoolgirl, Summer.”

She flinched. The UV lights burned and whined.

Michael nearly lost his balance, suddenly feeling weak. He took a breath, winced through the bruises, and glanced back at Sarika. “Can I stay?”

“You are welcome,” the cobra replied. “They are not. I understand their concern, but I will not be struck in my own chambers.”

Summer growled at Sarika. When she turned to Michael, the expression still remained. “I’m calling Austin.”

“Fine,” Michael replied. “Go tattle on me. I don’t care.”

She stared down at him, black muzzle curling, with more than a foot separating their heights, and plenty of muscle to spare. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the whine of UV lights, shining from above.

“Summ,” Daisy said, softly, laying a hand on the other hyena’s shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ll wait outside.”

Summer huffed, uncurled her fists, and began to stomp her way out of the terrarium, toward the red glow of the emergency exit. Her tail was painfully stiff.

Daisy gathered her clothes from the surrounding sand. When she looked at him, he saw his own cum clumping the fur between her legs. “I’m . . . sorry for hurting you, Mike.”

She followed after Summer. The two grew indistinct through the gloom. Soon, there was a slam, a burst of light from outside, the shape of two women marching through, and a final shudder of the door.

Another silence.

“Fuck,” Michael said.

He dragged his hand across his face, feeling the sweat and clammy skin. A hint of nausea wormed through his belly. With his mind still reeling from hypoxia and venom, everything began to feel slightly unreal, like a dream that was just about to end.

“Samsara.”

With a slight hiss of sand, Sarika glided across the terrarium, her torso swaying from side to side. Scaly breasts cast a shadow across her belly.

“It is a cycle of misery,” the cobra said, “formed from the endless wells of ignorance and desire. The soul wanders through existence. Karma rises, only to fall. Few are strong enough to break free.”

Michael nodded, as if he wasn’t listening.

“Is your injury improving, Mr. Man?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Another silence. Heat shimmered along the sand.

“Look,” Michael said, “uh. . . .” He swallowed through the ring of bruises. “I gotta talk to them. I’ll be right back.”

There was another hiss. With a winding flex of muscle, Sarika slithered in front of him, facing her torso to his and spooling the lengths of her body behind, forming a writhing mat of black and olive scales. Michael thought of an obstacle course filled with tires.

He glanced behind him. The terrarium ended in a wall of ferns and craggy rock. Nothing but sand below.

She was blocking the only escape.

Shit.

“Mr. Man,” Sarika said.

He looked up at her. Even while resting her torso on a wedge of herself, she easily rose above him, still swaying like a stalk of wheat. The lining of her hood, the bend of her spine, the smooth mosaic of her scales, dotting the landscape of her belly. Everything curved.

He tried to meet her eye.

“Am I—uh—allowed to leave?”

“Of course. I ask only a moment.”

She dipped her torso down. Ten feet of muscle flexed to support her. By the end, she was inches from his face, gazing into his eyes with a look of predator focus.

A bead of sweat rolled down Michael’s cheek.

“You are exquisite,” Sarika said, reaching out a hand. She collected the sweat from his cheek and began to suck on the finger, never losing his gaze.

“. . . okay?”

“You have inflamed in me a great desire, one with the most basest of origin.”

“Cool. I mean—nice.”

With the smoothness of water, the cobra took her finger from her mouth, lowered it to her pussy, and began to rub the outer lips, smearing the streams of her excitement.

“Uh,” Michael said.

“Look in my eyes.”

He blinked, focusing.

Sarika held his gaze, swaying in gentle waves, flexing and relaxing her hood. The pattern was almost hypnotic. “We will be having sex now.”

“Figured that was coming.”

“I will test your limits, Mr. Man. I know you crave the release.” A hiss bubbled through her chest. “Oh, you desire the domination, little human. Little mouse. I have felt your need on every twitch and moan.”

Below, the rubbing intensified. She splayed her fingers, opening the lips, revealing inner walls of pink. Fluid shined in the light.

“This is your warning,” Sarika said, her gaze painfully intense. “It is my desire to see you ensnared. Limp within my coils. To me, there is nothing more erotic than the weakening of a struggle.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally. Me too.”

“I will indulge my desires upon you, just as you are cured within me. A resonance of the chakras.”

“Sounds cool, thanks.”

There was more eye contact. Her fingers continued to move.

“Uh,” Michael said. “Do you have to—you know—do that? In front of me?”

“You have already ejaculated. Why can’t I?”

“. . . do you have to stare at me while you do it?”

“Yes.”

Her tongue flicked across his cheek. Behind her, lengths of muscle began to writhe.

“Okay,” Michael said, loudly. “Cool. So, uh—can I go now?”

“Hss. If you must.” With a heave of muscle, she pulled her lengths to the side, clearing a pathway through the sand. The emergency exit shined ahead. “I will prepare the altar of our union. Do not be long in coming.”

“Major Manly never comes early.”

She stared at him, masturbating.

“Right,” Michael said. “Nevermind. See ya.”

He made a hasty exit, grabbing his clothes from a rock and sloshing through the heat-baked sand. Sarika tracked his every step. Despite his best efforts, he heard a hiss and a moan.

And, as he walked through the back warehouse of The Secret Womb, trying to dress himself, he realized something obvious, something that should’ve grabbed his attention the second he woke up—his back wasn’t hurting. He couldn’t feel a single bit of pain. Only a hint of resistance, if he really twisted himself to check.

Sarika had actually cured him.

He put on the rest of his clothes without a struggle. After so many days of pain and stiffness, it should’ve come as a relief.

Michael sighed, pushed open the emergency exit, and went searching for his friends.