The snake-woman was coiled like a huge anaconda about the altar; her body—which looked more or less human from the waist up—was covered with scales that glistened coldly in the dim light, white as hoar frost.
Her eyes were lidless orbs of yellow fire, and her mouth opened in a snarl of hate as she glared at the man who stood before her; but he did not flinch or retreat. He knew of the nature of the Guardian and had come prepared.
"Behold!" he cried, holding aloft his magical flute. "This instrument can charm thee—and all thy kindred."
She reared back on her coils, opening wide her jaws to strike. But the man blew upon the flute, and its music filled the air. The snake-woman's head drooped; her tongue flicked out to taste the strange notes, then withdrew again into her mouth. She swayed like a serpent charmed by the sound of a piper's pipe, and slowly slithered down onto the floor of the temple.
Still, he could see that something was wrong—something was very wrong—the music was supposed to act as a lullaby; yet the snake-woman seemed restless.
Her body writhed sensuously against the stones of the floor, and her tail lashed about restlessly. Her once hatred-filled gaze now held a new expression that made him shudder involuntarily.
Without warning, she lunged toward him. The flute fell from his hands; it clattered noisily across the stone floor as he jumped aside—but too late.
Her tail struck him like lightning, knocking him to the ground. She coiled about his waist, pinning his arms to his sides so that he could not move. He could feel the sinuous muscles flexing beneath the smooth scales that covered them. His breath came fast; panic seized him when he realized just how helpless he was.
The beast leaned close to him, staring into his face with those fiery yellow eyes. Her hot, fetid breath washed over his skin—and he felt her tongue slide out of her mouth like a thick, wet snake to caress his cheek. It slid across the side of his face, leaving a slimy trail of thick saliva behind.
He struggled, but she was far stronger than he. Her obscenely long organ slithered down to his neck and began to lap at the sweat that beaded there. He tried to scream, but could only moan in terror as the tongue lapped and probed and teased.
Then—to his horror—he felt something else. The tip of her tail was sliding up his thigh; it slipped under the hem of his trousers until it reached the base of his manhood. There, it curled around the shaft of his member, squeezing it tightly between smooth scales and liquid muscles.
He shuddered as he felt the serpentine appendage begin to pump slowly, rhythmically. The stimulation was maddening; he could feel himself growing harder by the second despite his fear.
"No!" he gasped through clenched teeth. "Please! N—"
The words were cut short as her forked tongue left his throat to snake its way into his mouth. He could feel it wriggling like a living thing, entwining itself with his own.
The double