Second Skin

A woman gets swallowed up by her new scaly skin and turned into a cobra. (Contains biting.) Explicit.

Emily stepped barefoot across the tiled floor. A sliver of the North African breeze rustled the hem of her nightgown as she paused in the doorway, looking back at her fiancée slumbering amidst the sheets. With a small smile she swung the door closed, leaving only a crack open.

Filling the basin of the sink from the tap, Emily scooped up two handfuls of water and stroked them across her face. It had taken weeks of negotiating for Simon to agree to bring her on one of his 'expeditions', so she wouldn't let him see a hint of regret, even if the sun singed her nose pink and the dry air left her skin feeling like parchment.

Hands on the edge of the sink, Emily lifted her face and let the water drip off her chin. The cool air brushed against the edges of her cheeks. She chased an itch on the back of her palm with her fingers, then sunk her hands into the water and rubbed them together. Leaning over the water, she splashed several more handfuls across her face, too, in an attempt to soothe the itch running down her forehead and across her nose. After a thorough scrubbing, she groped for the washcloth and dried herself off.

The water hadn't helped. She scratched above her temple, along her cheekbone, across her jaw. Her nails left red tracks across her skin. She dug her fingers underneath her gown and scratched at her neck.

With a small breath of frustration, she lifted her nightgown from her shoulders, pulled it off over her head, and laid it out beside her while she retrieved a bottle of oil from her bag. She set aside the glass stopper, then poured a splash of the oil into her hand and spread it across her bare shoulders and onto her neck and cheeks.

As she rubbed the oil into the nape of her neck, Emily felt a tug around her midsection, like the grip of a corset, or more likely the tautness of dry skin. She turned toward the mirror. What looked like a translucent, silky sash had wrapped around her stomach, from her waist up to just below her ribs.

It wasn't silk. It was patterned, textured, scaled; it was snake skin. And it wasn't staying still. It slid outward along her skin, like a sheet pulled by an invisible hand. It was swallowing her up.

"Oh god," she gasped, stepping back. Her hands cupped her mouth and her shoulders bumped against the wall behind her. It had to be some trick of the light, but there was no mistaking the smooth scales catching the moonlight and winking at her, or the slow rustle of dry skin sliding against itself. Beneath her fingers, her face slid and shifted. Lifting her head from her hands revealed the stretched, smooth snout beginning to grow from her face. Her nose and cheeks were so dry they felt as if they were on fire. As she wrenched her face away from the mirror, she caught the shimmer of emerging scales across her face.

With her arms still tucked against her chest, the encroaching scales slithered right up over them and bound her elbows against her ribs so tightly she could hardly even raise her hands from her breast. "Stop," she whispered, twisting her shoulders from side to side, trying to free her arms from the second skin that clung to them. Her arms looked like nothing more than writhing lumps beneath the scales. She moved to stand up, to walk, but her thighs were likewise bound together and her knees pushed against one another. Along the backs of her legs, something moved, sliding downward, sleek and scaled and long, sprouting from the base of her back: a tail.

"Stop!" she gasped, staggering to the counter, almost falling over it. The scales along her stomach slid back and forth over the edge, almost frictionless.

There had to be some way to stop this. Some way to peel the scales off, to cut her free, to stop the jets of fire shooting through her veins like she was lying out in the desert sun. She bent forward and plunged her face into the sink, gulping down mouthfuls of water. When she lifted her head to breathe, droplets clung to the scales on her snout like tiny jewels. Her hair clung to the back of her head like a helmet.

No matter how her hands twisted and fought, they couldn't stop the scales from swallowing them up. With all her strength, she arched her back and flexed her arms, but the slick, dry skin held her so tightly she couldn't even lift her fists from her chest. Her tail touched the floor between her ankles and kept growing, sliding along the floor as it descended from her back. Her calves were bound up against her tail, forcing her onto her toes, fighting for balance between her feet and her thickening tail.

"Ssstah-ahh," she gasped. Her eyes rolled back and a white lid slid up over them. Her jaw stretched open, her tongue spilled from her mouth, and she let out a sharp hiss.

Emily tried to stay in control, but her head was a dizzying storm of sensations. The sleek strength and sheer weight of her tail coiling behind her, the pressure of the snakeskin binding her arms and legs more tightly by the second, the feverish need for warmth pulsing through her with each beat of her frantic heart, and the strange vertigo of being elongated.

Her shoulders were several inches further away than they should have been, and that distance was only growing greater. Her legs, kicking and writhing beneath the scales, were even further away, pressed against the tiled floor. By now, she was less standing so much as she was draped over the counter. Her sense of her own body—what was neck and shoulders, chest and stomach, legs and tail—was hazy and muddled. She was long, so long and thick and powerful. If she could, she would have dragged her nails along her scales, to feel the firmness of her muscles and her impossibly smooth skin.

As her scales grew taut around her, their color emerged: a blue so deep it might have been black, gleaming in the moonlight like a sea of stars. It seeped more slowly across her chest, where her arms were still sinking into the mass of her body, and over her legs, lost somewhere among her thick coils on the floor.

She tried not to think of how magnificent her scales were. Or how long her fangs, or how potent the venom brewing within them. She tried to pull herself in, to force her sense of self back into a human form. Legs, not a tail. Arms, not coils.

It didn't work. She was expanding to fill every inch of her new body, and couldn't be crammed back into a human shape.

Her amber eyes burned at her in the mirror as she reared back, twisting her head from side to side. Muscles stretched and bulged along her neck, then pulled tight all at once. As she hissed at her reflection, a hood unfurled from the sides of her head, running from her brow down to where her shoulders had been. The only trace of her torso left was a subtle bulge in her length, a hint of a chest along her front.

"Aah, yesss!" she hissed. Her voice was sharp and deep and inhuman. Her coils twisted and writhed as she stretched out, rolling her spine and flexing her muscles. Now finished growing, she was monstrously large for a cobra, her head as big a man's, her coils at least a foot thick, and her tail practically filling the bathroom floor.

Emily felt more free than she ever had before. Not just in body, though she was more lithe and flexible than any gymnast, but in mind too. No one could tell her what to do or who to be. The idea had scared her at first, but now she cherished it. Why should she care what humans thought of her?

A nudge from her snout swung the bathroom door open. As she wound her way into the hotel room, her tongue flickered out and brought each scent into sharp focus. Dry linens, a bottle of brandy, aftershave and sweat, leather suitcases. More than just smell, she could see the heat glowing off of her fiancée's sleeping body. Another flick of her tongue, a grin, and then she was sliding across the tiles, smooth ceramic against smoother scale.

She lifted herself effortlessly onto the mattress, which sagged under her weight. By slipping beneath the sheets, she peeled them away from Simon's body, leaving him bare-chested in nothing but his underclothes. Slowly and silently she wound herself around his waist and legs and wrists, tightening her grip on him while the tip of her tail dug down underneath his waistband. His body was excellently warm.

Always the sound sleeper, she thought, bringing her head level with his face. Her tongue danced along the tip of his nose, bringing a twitch and a sigh out of him. Again she tried, more insistently; this time, his eyelids batted and he groaned. Her coils held tight as he tried to roll over. His eyes snapped open.

"Good morning, Sssimon!" Emily hissed, baring her fangs.

At once, he erupted into a tangle of writhing and kicking and frantic shouting; raw primate panic. Emily's weight was enough to pin him down, and while he could thrash all he liked, he wasn't strong enough to throw her off.

"What'sss wrong? Don't you recognize me?" she cooed, coyly pressing her chest against his.

As a consequence both of waking up and the sudden excitement, Simon had grown stiff. Emily's tail suddenly tightened around his erection, squeezing him between her firm coils. His body pulled all of a sudden, stretching up against her like a sail catching wind. A grunt caught in the back of his throat. The utterly bewildered look on his face only made her more eager to toy with him.

With a flex of her muscles, she shoved him down hard against the bed. "Ssstop sssquirming," she said, "and give your dear Emily a kisss." She pushed her snout against his lips and thrust her forked tongue into his mouth. Watching the color drain from his cheeks was a delight.

Simon wrenched his head to the side, sputtering and gasping. "E-Emily!?"

A jerk of her tail cut him off. His eyes rolled back, his body tensed, and a groan forced itself from his mouth. At times, she'd thought of him as her protector, but now he was almost comically small beneath her monstrous body, and it was so easy to make him squirm and gasp. It was like playing with a doll. Her coils wrapped around his shaft tugged once, then twice, pulling free from his underclothes. His back arched up to meet her. Faced with a beast out of legend, and still just a slave to his body.

And what a wonderfully warm body it was. He was like a squirming, blazing ember, and she wanted to wrap him up tight and squeeze the heat out of him. She nuzzled his neck and shoulder, then wrapped herself around his back and up across his mouth. Her coils squeezed around his wrists and ankles and her tail kept its tight grip on his erection. His skin was so soft and delicate against her scales. Up close like this, she could see the heat glowing through his veins.

"I'm calling off the wedding, sssweetie," Emily said. Her tongue danced along his cheek. If he had a reply, it was lost against her scales amid his muffled moans. Each throb of his shaft squeezed back against her winding tail. His hips jerked blindly as he took deep, shuddering breaths.

Her hood stretched out as she slowly tipped his head to one side, exposing his bare neck. "But you'll make an excellent sssubject."

As the first shot of his seed rose into the air, she bit into his neck. Her eyes rolled back in delight as his thundering heart drew the venom from her fangs. Once she was spent, she let go. Her coils held him fast until his last few spasms were over. As soon as she released his limbs, Simon squirmed out from under her, tossing her tail aside, tumbling onto the floor on his hands and knees, clutching his shoulder and stumbling toward the bathroom. He likely didn't even notice the scales creeping up his neck—but he certainly would in a minute or two.

Just as Emily had finished unspooling herself back onto the floor, there came a knock at the door, quick but polite. "Hello?" called a hesitant voice. "Is there any trouble?"

One of the maids, no doubt. Ignoring the commotion from the bathroom, Emily slid over to the door and reared up to a human's height. "Jussst a little accident. Could you come in and give usss a hand?" she purred.