CPL Stewart Peter Bate didn't know how the women with snakes for arms had entered their camp.
Obviously they wouldn't have let them in had they known they had snakes for arms—and snake tails for their lower halves.
They let them in because the sultry desert maidens said they would dance for them and they were bored and horny enough to want to see some exotic dancing by sultry desert maidens.
No, that couldn't be right either.
There shouldn't be any desert maidens out here at all, sultry or otherwise. They were in a temporary tent camp on the edge of the Mandeville desert. The desert was named after the arrogant sonovabitch that had been nothing more than the embedded civilian science officer in the exploratory party that had first stumbled across it. Now it was forever named after a skinny, bespectacled piece of shit who threw temper tantrums over the most trivial of things and pissed their pants at the first sign of trouble.
There shouldn't be any sultry desert maidens because this was H-space, not Earth, and they were supposedly the first humans to ever set foot in this dimension.
Or was it?
Bate had been posted to a lot of deserts. They all tended to run together in his head. It was probably the same for all of them. They'd got confused, that's what it was. They'd mixed this desert up with one on Earth that had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators.
Had any of those deserts ever had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators?
It was easy to get confused out here. Out here was weird. Out here was like being under a burning sun even though the sky was filled with a boiling mass of angry clouds. Out here the wind whistled through strange rock formations and sounded like a secret mistress whispering lewd desires in your ear.
Bate's thoughts and memories were clouded.
Maybe that was why.
The sultry desert maidens had appeared at their camp as the skies had darkened in an approximation of nightfall. They were naked apart from glittering jewels and filigree chains of precious metals hanging between their beautifully round breasts. They'd asked the men if they wanted to see them dance and the men—being tired, bored and horny—had said yes. And the women—those dark-eyed beauties with dusky skin and sinuous arms—had danced for the men and turned their blood to steam.
Bate and the men had thought the sultry desert maidens exotic in the way they danced with snakes draped over their shoulders. Then they'd noticed that the snakes draped over their shoulders possessed a head at each end. Then they'd noticed that the dusky maidens had no arms to hold the snakes up with. The maidens needed no arms; the snakes were their arms. Then they'd noticed it wasn't just the maidens' arms. Instead of hair, the dancers' exquisite faces were framed with coils of hissing snakes. And then they'd realised they'd been too focused on bouncing breasts and slinky hips to notice what was below the waists of these exotic dancers. Instead of legs they had the lower half of a snake. Or was it an upper half? As with the arms, instead of terminating in a tail, their lower halves tapered down to a neck and another snake head with a flickering tongue.
And then all hell had broken loose.
Bate supposed he'd been one of the lucky ones. He hadn't been bitten. Many of his buddies were. He'd watched as those sinuous arms with fanged snake heads for hands had struck with the speed and ferocity of angry rattlesnakes. It wasn't the only place he'd seen fangs. They had fangs in their tits as well. Bate had watched them pop out of lush round breasts where the nipples should be... watched as the snake woman had hugged a man to her and sank those fangs into his chest... had watched as the man had convulsed and finally fallen still with white froth bubbling up out of his mouth.
Bate had got off lightly. One of the snake heads had yawned open in front of him. Its fangs had sprayed a fine cloud of venom into his face. Bate had inhaled some of the poison and fallen senseless to the floor.
He woke up in a chair with his hands tied behind him and his legs bound together. Hovering right in front of his face—too close, far too close—was the head of a large snake. The snake's scales were red and shone as if polished. Black beady eyes stared right at Bate while a forked tongue flickered back and forth.
Cold sweat rose on Bate's face. He struggled against his bonds. His bonds struggled back and Bate realised he hadn't been tied up with rope. A snake woman sat behind him. One of her snake arms had coiled around his wrists. Her tail was coiled around his ankles. Both bonds might as well have been forged from iron. Her snake arm constricted and Bate's arms were wrenched back in a painful position. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his back. Instead of the soft nubs of her nipples he felt the tips of something harder and sharper, something that scored lines across his naked back and left trails like vinegar in an exposed wound, something pointed that could pop out and sink deep into his vulnerable flesh at any moment.
"Why so fearful?" the snake woman behind him said. Her hair hissed. "We danced for you. Now we offer you more personal pleasures."
The snake head hovering before Bate gaped open and revealed a fleshy pink interior. It was wrong. He'd seen the inside of a snake's mouth from the time he'd had to deal with a nest of rattlers back on the family ranch. What he was looking at bore little resemblance. At the back of the snake's throat was a wall of pink flesh with a vertical slit in the centre. The opening was lined with multiple soft flaps of tissue. It looked like...
No, surely not.
The monster behind him chuckled.
"Our dances inflamed your passions," she said. "Now let us quench them."
Her fangs sprayed venom in his face. Again it diffused out in a fine mist that enveloped Bate's head and was breathed in before he could stop himself. This time, rather than knocking him out, the toxin had a more insidious effect on his body. He felt it immediately as his heart started to beat faster in his chest. A hot flush ran beneath his skin like a forest fire. The heat flowed down to his loins and concentrated in his cock and balls. His penis swelled with blood and rose like a fruiting mushroom. His balls felt swollen and taut. He really wanted to bust a nut out.
But not here. And definitely not with this... thing.
The snake woman kissed his cheek. Many tiny tongues from the snakes she had as hair flickered against his skin.
"Tension is poison," she whispered in his ear. "Let me draw it out of you."
The snake's head she had for a hand turned its attention down to his tumescent manhood.
No. No no no.
Bate squirmed and struggled, but was unable to wriggle out of the coils binding his wrist and ankles. The snake head had floated down to his crotch and regarded his cock as though it was a piece of small furry prey it wished to gulp down.
Tears welled up in Bate's eyes. He shook his head.
The snake's flickering tongue tickled across the bulbous head of Bate's penis. The movements weren't random. The snake woman paid special attention to Bate's urethral opening. Bate's cock gave a little twitch and a little bead of precum emerged from the tip. The snake's tongue lapped it up with flickering little licks that aroused Bate further.
"Mmm, you taste nice," the snake woman whispered to him.
Then the snake mouth opened wide and gobbled up Bate's erection.
His cock pushed through the flanges at the back of her throat and entered a tight tunnel of moist flesh. Muscle bunched up and stroked up his shaft in peristaltic contractions.
It felt good.
Fuck, it felt shameful to admit it, but it felt good.
If it was a snake he'd have thought it a weird side effect of the stupid critter trying to swallow his dick. It wasn't a snake, though, it was an arm of the demon woman behind him and she knew exactly how to use it to trigger dark, shameful pleasures within Bate. Warm fleshy walls rippled against Bate's member as she whispered foul suggestions in his ear. Her throat—if it was that; it felt more like another orifice, one devoted to pleasure and procreation—gripped and sucked.
Bate came. His mind had wandered, had taken the stimulation it was receiving and converted it into a mental image of the head of a blonde bombshell glamour model down in his lap and deep-throating him. Once he'd created that image he couldn't get rid of it, and the moment it floated to the forefront of his thoughts it was enough to take his mind off what was really happening for a moment, and that moment was enough to take him over the threshold of climax. His hips jerked and his penis throbbed as he spurted thick ropes of semen down the snake's throat. Her snake-head arm gulped, and gulped, and gulped, and when the flow had finally died down to a trickle, the jaws closed and she sank fangs into the back of his balls.
There was pain as her fangs pierced his scrotal sac, then an overwhelming sense of euphoria like nothing he'd ever experienced before as her venom flooded his balls and diffused out into his body. Her poison took hold of his balls and made them slave to her hungers. They plumped up with fresh seed and deflated like bellows as Bate expelled a mighty blast of semen up into her fleshy tunnel.
Each was visible as a bulge travelling up her serpentine arm like freshly swallowed prey.
Each took with it a portion of Bate's soul.
The snake gulped and gulped until Bate was hollowed out... empty. Still the snake woman wasn't finished. The soul might have been the main prize, but she still had use for the meat left behind. The jaws unhinged on the lowermost snake head, the one that could be found at the end of her 'tail'. Bate's feet were engulfed, then his ankles, then his lower legs. The snake gulped.