In an ocean of green, the eye cannot distinguish between shades so easily. Though the human vision is best suited towards picking out colours of emerald and chlorophyll, when the hanging leaves and branches create enough of incoherent cloud of dark olive that the mind is tricked into accepting the occasional ‘mistake’. Maybe a parting through the trees of the blue sky above, or a vertical streak of rich brown for the towering trunks, or the golden and orange spots of the serpent’s scales. All were visible to him, and if his mind had only listened then he would not be so doomed.


Alone. The human had finished his bathing in a stream. Warm water dripped from his naked body and would continue to do so until he was decidedly dry. Until then, he could expect to revel in the winds that blew across him. Gusts of an equally warm nature spiralled down from on high, and passed between the leaves of trees that towered above him. There was a slight aroma to the breeze, that of cooking meat at a medium distance, more than he could shout at. But that was why he had come this far out, for peace and for quiet. And here amongst the gentle swaying of trees and their branches rarely creaking, he had found it.


The slight sound of a splash or petite wave drew his attention behind him, to the pool from which he had exited. He spun and looked at the pool with open, searching eyes. Was it something he should be afraid of? Some animal or unspoken jungle legend that sought his blood? No, a log. The brown chunk of dead branch bobbed in place a ways from him in the middle of the pool. Ripples moved away in large circles from it and faded in a matter of seconds. None even reached the bank where he stood. He breathed out. Relief. He would get dressed now, and tell his campmates that they should be careful, for who knows what was out there.


He turned back and took one step towards where his clothes lay. His knees met a sheer surface that was soft and mildly pliable. Hips, and his chest, were next to bump into it. The same texture of smoothness was reported by his skin and ferried up to his brain. The signals arrived ready to be processed, but were placed in a long queue behind the information from his eyes and that tactile information from his face. He saw her. Right in front of him was the face of a gigantic serpent. A python of unimaginable size that his first reaction was to believe that he had brushed some mind-altering frog in the pool whilst bathing, and this hallucination in front of him was nothing more than its effects taking place. However the tactile sensations were finally understood, and he realised his fateful position. His second reaction was to scream.


He made it as far as inhaling. Something tight and quick-forming gathered in an encompassing hold around his neck. In a split-second, it came from behind his back and poured over one shoulder before slithering around his throat and sealing the first coil. Thicker than his fist, it wedged beneath his jaw. His mouth shut in an instant, and was held there by the body of the snake. Breathing switched to the nose, and he found that the flow through his vulnerable throat was reduced by plenty. Instinct and adrenaline kicked in at this point, the third reaction was to lift his hands and try to pry the coil off of his neck. His arms bent at the elbow, but did not rise all the way to his chin where he could slide a finger between his skin and the scales to begin pulling. A glance saw why; so focused on his neck, he had missed a second coil coming in and binding around his chest. The coil did not crush, but ensured he would hold its fearsome weight in the crook of his arms. She spoke,
“I love when humans separate themselves, wash themselves, present themselves, and try to save themselves all for me.” A voluminous voice spoke in front of him. The bass and richness of her tones vibrated through his head. She still spoke softly, and he came to known that even the volume she enunciated each hiss with which left his ears rings, landed no further than this small grove. A private affair.


“Step back, human. You have missed a spot in your hasty cleaning.” She boomed through him again, and it was accompanied by a constant drag from the loop around his neck. But fear had also seized him. Under the constant glow of her amber eyes, the weight of her body cradled in his arms, and the terror coursing through him, his legs had become unresponsive. “If you do not walk you will be dragged. If you are dragged, you will end far sooner. You can at least breathe a little outside of water.” The snake began to move towards him in a languid fashion. A slow shift one way, then the same in the other as she closed in on him. It was enough, he felt the pull and the implied push, and stepped to relieve the strain on his neck. A few steps found his ankles submerged in the warm water, and a few later had risen the tide to his knees. All the while he kept his eyes focused on the snake out of terror. Already he could feel a mild burning in his chest, he would have to breathe through his mouth somehow soon.


Submerged in the water was more of the titanic length of her body. Still and silent when it needed to be, the environment of the pool was no hindrance to her movement, and all but crippled the human’s. She had laid a trap for him. He backed into it without even knowing. His ankles collided with a wall of her tail, and he was pulled back to sit on it with a short, but intense, period of panic. She sat him on her loops and made a second slide unimpeded by water over his shins. The clamp caught his legs and trapped him there. Another patiently floated above his lap and sank to mask his lower body completely behind her powerful loops. The human looked up, wide-eyed and terrified. He struggled far less than she had expected, but they could always be trusted upon to start resisting at any moment.
“Relax.” She hissed with the same smoothness as her body flowed. “And breathe deeply.” Her clamp on his throat loosed itself. The human’s jaw was freed and immediately opened to inhale with gusto. “You did not wash your throat.”


If he ever had hindsight again, it would be obvious that the serpent would trick him this way. As soon as his mouth opened to breathe so too did hers, and while he had seen the flesh of her pink maw which disappeared through red to a dark, impossibly long, tunnel as she spoke, now he was treated to its full sight. Every facet of every surface was awash with clear saliva that made her mouth glisten like a bush with morning dew. It dripped from the palate down onto her lower jaw and pooled in large quantities beneath her tongue. Her tongue; the dark, inky, shape was poised to strike from the moment which he saw the thick, forked, tip. Close your mouth! Close your mouth! The queue of processing stimulus had ground to a halt. He inhaled air, and a second later, the end of her tongue.


The organ filled his mouth with vigorous intent. He tried to gag and tear himself away from the invasion, but could no longer move. She moved forwards, head almost stationary on her long, thick neck, until her upper lip pressed against his forehead. It was not too cruel to unveil his eventual destination in such a manner. Had he common sense or a clear head he would have remarked that barely opening her massive jaws was enough to encompass from his chin to his scalp with ease. But he did not think this or much of anything as she pushed his head back. The human gazed deep into the depths of her throat, paying no attention to the shifting landscape behind her. The pool he was in was now green; her green and mottled pattern. The snake’s immeasurable length had risen from the water and surrounded the pair in layers of girthy muscle two coils deep.


Through his hair, the end of her tail swayed and slithered as if it were a snake all of its own moving through the underbrush for cover. One coil around the back of his head like a royal crown that had slipped, and a gentle grasp of his hair in the centre with a tender stroke of his head in a place where she was not. Fear made him swallow instinctively, though it only made his situation worse. Part of her tongue had not waited for admission, and had poured itself down his oesophagus. There had been the minor squirm then, but quickly and easily quashed. When he would start to burn inside, then he would struggle. Then he would realise that her tongue was bunched up and pressed against his face from his nose to his lips in a thick, wet, mask. Then he would exhaust himself in the numerous coils of her powerful body.


Inkanyamba flowed her dark blue tongue into him, past his neck and further down. She only wished she could see his eyes widened and beg for mercy, but his face was comfortably pressed into her muzzle. She did, however, feel the warmth of his face inadvertently blush, and the reaction to her intimate invasion was delightfully apt. Later, when this human was a squirming bulge whose only presence was a faint outline in her kneading, crushing coils, she followed his path back to camp, where the two others were beginning to tell stories of the haunted jungle...

These can be so fun to play with, with their little squirms and choking and whimpering - but they so rarely last for more than a day...
Commissioned by  Sanswuch
Story by  solidness

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