Inkanyamba

Torque has drawn the short straw and had to... break in the fresh face, aka Baera

Anacondas are half-aquatic for a reason - all that body mass take energy to move, which is much easier in the water.

Constrictors prefer softer resting spots for a similar reason. Rebeca's body here is lucky she got an extra soft mattress, allowing her some distance to sink into and distribute his massive weight through, considering that Dorian does not much care if the bed is occupied.

A special little extra for Keda's birthday~

The second picture is the fullres version

Early preview of the monthly commission for the current Champion patron, Keda, on his birthday today, starring Seria going in for a kiss~

Early access preview of the second monthly, with two dragons having a fair match of strength

Early preview of one of the monthlies - a snake visiting her "owner"~

The final one~

A little something between the two boys~

Tried a new principle of drawing saliva, and I think there is still room for improvement

Early access preview of this month's Champion's commission. Including yours truly and one Indian queen

Skipped this one by mistake

I still have more plans than a kiss, for this one~

The last one of the double monthlies, finally.

The title is a WIP

Miia applying what she had learned about human culture in practice immediately~

Delicious~

A part of the gift for Taco's birthday, now released to Adherents and above as well~

First part of a little something I have prepared for Taco's birthday, to be released gradually over the following days~

An early access post of a special monthly with two versions, one for each vision of Kaa; preview of both attached

For one bird's birthday today

WIP, working on text/short story now, the final upload will include them

The previous version was a WIP posted by mistake

A little some thing for one Barras spidox, whose birthday is today~

Early preview of one of the monthlies

Someone was unhappy with the choice of starter pokemon and tried to catch his own, without any to defend him. The mature battle-scarred Arbok is a deadly force to have on one's side, but may have been a poor choice given the context

Early preview of one of the monthlies

Preview of a private commission

Created as a reaction image in a couple of hours last weekend

Use as wallpaper encouraged

Download the pages in standard and full resolution.

The guide is taking the first plunge.

The rest of the comic will be made public with patrons voting on the exact series of events at certain points.

Early preview of this month's commission for the current Champion patron, starring two nagas sharing a kiss with a third

The final picture in this series for the time being

Her tenderizing rhythmic swaying has been ongoing for quite a while, it appears. Note that the human is almost as high from the ground as if she was standing.

This piece was not initially meant to connect to the office storage room one, but I had no exact character in mind to put there, so I decided I might as well do this.

The office building from Milia Wars was at some point in use

This was actually the one I started with, planning to do specifically an Ouroboros collage, but ended up only using her for this one

Rei seems to have trouble staying competitive while gaming in coils

I will be uploading most of these on by one, before putting the whole collage together, is my thinking

Drawing some of camel's snake ladies (http://dgallon.blog75.fc2.com/)

Early preview of this month's commission for the current Champion patron, starring his big naga and a small kobold

Payback for Livinlovindude drawing me last year.

Dialogue and title to be added later.

As voted by Acolytes, Kaa x Mowgli having some good tree times, with hypnosis, coiling, and heavy full-face kisses~

There are more tiers you can pledge to than $1, $4, and $7 - find and click the faint "Show more levels" button to see them.

And please consider a larger pledge - not for my sake, but to help those poor scarecrows designing this website, for they *will* need all the help they can get on their quest to get a brain from the wizard.

A whole year in the making, this was. The first page was for Red's 2018 birthday, and this one was made on the 2019 one

The press conference did not cover everything there is to cover, in this matter. On the next day, before she was set to leave Terarim, he has found her again~

Early preview of this month's Champion commission, including Vox urging his friend Cibus to trust him deeply

The piece is based on the setting envisioned by one Anduriel on FA, with most of the main MLP characters as predatory snake hybrids ruling the Everfree, and Twilight as their hapless prey - and eventually, a pet~

Early preview of this month's commission for the current Champion patreon, joKen

Poor boy, never stood a chance~

Moka got his Halloween cosplay ready early

Early preview of the this month's commission for the Champion-tier patron, joKen

Things are taking a turn~

You can just make out his silhouette in Kaa's neck there

I was very gentle and slow, she was fast asleep until a second ago - I think the compression of my throat around her chest restraining her breathing is what woke her up. It is no matter now however, she is a single swallow away from the point of no return

100% resolution version of the monthly

They are both boys, Dorian is a passionate predator in a way, I am sure he feels certain feelings toward his prey that could be described as a "crush"

More human practice for me, too. I feel pretty comfortable with anatomy and getting the facial structure right; I still need to figure out aesthetics now though, what defines a good-looking face

Preview of the monthly commission for the current Champion patron, joKen

A little something for Yamma, one of my Keepers, snacking on a girl I have seen him with before. Good human practice for me, too

Easy with groping the tongue, too~

A little something for my Keepers

Starring Amelia still dancing, Keda at the "hip", Aspen in the back awaiting his turn to enter - after Nomad who is already inside. All under the hypnosis, none fully realizing where they are going next~

NSFW version posted to the patreon discord

Some more classic Smash Bros.-type piranha plants, and human practice. Personal art done quick, so lower resolution than normal

WIP of piranha plants just giving it to a human boy man, just really smooching up a storm

A series of images I have started to make ages ago - sometime in 2017, so you will see relatively reduced quality slowly increase in these - starring Taco visiting Mokadu's place, and Moka being friendly to him. No plans to post it publicly before it is finished are in place, and I've no firm plans on when exactly it will be concluded

For Rei's upcoming birthday

Put this together just yesterday and today, so no early access preview

As mentioned before, easily overpowered by Mokadu's superior leg strength advantage~

Patreon-only continuation of the Lopunny Team-Building exercises from earlier - the after-hours mega-evolution exercise edition. The second picture is the fullres version

A monthly commission for the current Champion patron, Rei

A quick practice sketch for today, starring one Tacokurt

A big plushy birthday gift for yesterday's special day for Nomad~

"That afternoon Mowgli was sitting in the circle of Kaa's great coils, fingering the flaked and broken old skin that lay all looped and twisted among the rocks just as Kaa had left it. Kaa had very courteously packed himself under Mowgli's broad, bare shoulders, so that the boy was really resting in a living arm-chair."

Some colors adjusted from preview

This may continue and grow into something bigger still~

Preview of the monthly commission for the current Champion patron, Rei. The snake is his pet anaconda, Leviathan. Story by Bantam

Everyone at home knew the dangers of leaving the windows open, but some nights got particularly hot in the castle, and risks were sometimes taken. After a long night of gaming, poor Rei was quite exhausted, tired enough that he had to be carried to bed, his fur like a sweltering jacket he could not remove, so his Master made sure to open the window for him before switching off the light and closing the door.

Deep into the night as Rei slept soundly, a cool breeze wafting in from the open window, lighter sleepers would have heard the gentle creak of the wooden frame as a great weight slithered over the sill, drawn by the scent of easy prey perhaps, or seeking a safe place to coil up for the night, a massive anaconda's head lowered to the floor and began to pull its bulk in through the window. It's thick forked tongue flickered at the air, sensing food, urging it to search the bedroom.

Before too long it finds its mark, the golden eyes cresting the foot of the bed, eyeing the small brown-furred snack asleep before him...easy prey. Pressing his snout against the warmth of this little dragon, it easily begins to fold thick and heavy coils around it, moving so slowly that Rei did not wake, for if he had at any point escape may have been possible. Every time the little eastern tossed or turned in his sleep against the warm, smooth coils, he only seemed to aid the serpent in his task of enveloping the small snack. The entire process of folding coils around this prey could have been faster with a bite and display of his strength, but saving his strength was ideal.

Within his dreams, or perhaps nightmares, Rei stirred; his meager squirms within the thick coils of the green anaconda were met with instinctive constriction, waking him. As the little eastern dragon opened his eyes and the momentary confused haze of waking cleared, his situation melted from dream to nightmare, his first instinct to scream coming out as nothing louder than a wheezing gasp. Now that his prey was awake, the anaconda lifted his head to gaze down on his wriggling snack, the scent of panic mixed with the sweet tang of his fur, the thick layer of fat from a bountiful hunting season embraces Rei's every curve, the edges of the coils pillowing out against his chest.

The leviathan snake hisses softly as its tongue tasted the air with increasing frequency, the massive constrictor's slow breaths seemed an eternity to something as small as Rei, and with each panicked, strained cry for help, the coils pulled tighter. Given an extra few moments before he awoke, the snake probably could have gotten another loop around the struggling dragon's chest, watching those little claws scrape at the scales uselessly amused the snake, the subtle scars of countless creatures that fell prey before him, now visible to little Rei as he pushed and clawed to escape. In desperation, Rei took to pounding his fists against the coil over his chest, given it's thick layer of fat, the anaconda hardly felt it. Every straining push and hasty swipe of his claws did nothing to ease the creeping pressure over his chest as the thick coils pulled tighter.

Rei's body started to weaken, the coils had been growing tighter as minutes ticked by, cheeks turning blue and jaw agape, even the color in his tongue growing dull as his heart struggles in vain to beat even once per minute, each thud within his chest feeling like a heavy blanket over his muscles. Eventually even clawing at the serpent's coils feels like too much effort as his arms fall to his sides on the bed, the soft leathery creaking of those coils echoing his ears as his eyes grow distant, glazed and lifeless.

This prey was hardly worth the effort of such strength from the anaconda, but deep in its feral thought-process it could curl up on this bed afterwards and rest, safe from the weather and other fauna of the jungle, reasoning that even something as small as this prey was could sustain it another few days. As Rei's eyes started to close and his heart was forced into deathly stillness, he could watch as the green anaconda opened its gaping jaws over his snout; with one slow, comforting hiss, a warmth passed over him like a dream... it was almost comforting.

The opening page of the comic series I intend to make and post in the coming months.

This first part of the series will be Patreon-only, while the second part will be available publicly - with the details of its narrative up for voting for the qualifying patrons.

I personally made sure the photographer did me justice here

Monthly commission for the current Champion patron, Keda

Character art for one Fess, of his lizardfolk D&D Ranger/Wizard character

And hidden better than he was before

On his birthday, he gets dragged down into the coils~

One Baera is having a new dragon design underway, and dared say that I cannot squeeze all that~

A birthday commission from Anakonda7 for Felpur

A monthly commission for the current Champion patron, Keda

It's kind of cheating to look for them in source resolution, but here you go~

One DrakeHavok did not take the warnings before entering this greenhouse seriously.

I mean, I am sure there were warnings. There must have been.

I will be posting a YCH auction to Furaffinity within 7 days. Theme: piranha plants/tentacle pit.

Early WIP picture (details and amount of content are subject to change) is attached to this post.

Flexibility and confidence in the trainer making the right call makes all the difference in a match

Monthly commission for the Champion tier patron, Keda

Connection and trust between a trainer and their Pokemon is paramount to building an effective team

The other one thinks she's sneaky. They always think they are so sneaky. There is no escape~

Private commission for a redesigned character for one Bantam on FA

More damsels in distress feeding Dorian

Bloop has got plans for him after pulling that double shift earlier~

Early access preview of the second monthly for the current Champion patron, Schatti

Shading practice, comes with variations that naturally resulted from the adjusted shading technique:

With a size reference, too

Early access preview of the monthly number 1 (due to a clerical error, this month will have both his second and third/final monthly) for the current Champion patron, Schatti

Rebeca had her fun with her guest - now is Dorian's turn

Featuring the new Keeper, Anny, pinned by the tail, and Bloop's pet Clara helping him relax after a long day of feeding

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

Something for the more vanilla furries out there

I am pretty sure I am going to make a couple of new characters, a human woman and her "pet" male anaconda. Her name is still undecided; his is Dorian, and I am not yet sure about his level of intelligence; and their general thing would be her feeding him her guests. This will be the first depiction of them together

A monthly commission for the Champion tier patron, Schatti

Felt like doing more of this. Still waiting for a new stylus before getting back to the regularly scheduled snake sin.

Sol visiting one Haldos on my prompting

And a color edit for those into older luna

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

A monthly commission for the Champion tier patron, justanotherken

Full resolution image of Bantam's commission

Early preview of a commission for Dilitan, Bantam, and Rei

Humans do not last long in Citadel. Locker rooms and showers are a common area of disappearance.

The head is the most dangerous part of a snake, gotta watch out for that~

Starring Schatti as a naga, and Flowen as the well-informed and prepared snake handler - both Keeper-tier patrons

Not a bad start for using this lady I feel, expect to see more of her

The prey is gone for good though

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, justanotherken - illustrating Raina's first meeting with Seria

A WIP for Red's birthday gift

Yess, that's the look, mammal. Keep staring at me... keep thrashing...

Look into my eyes - it's almost over, now~

A birthday gift for one Josh, souperderpz on DA

A WIP for Red's birthday gift

A WIP for Red's upcoming birthday on 31st

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

A plane trip gone private

Monthly commission for Champion tier patron, justanotherken

Commission for Fletch, final page, title is a work in progress

For one hotcoolcreeper on Discord~

A commission that never went anywhere past the draft stage, made months ago. The characters are a pony, and a massive naga pony I have drawn before, by SineTheNaga on FA

Also known as "That one time Inkanyamba traced literally every single clear shot of the anaconda's head from the movie for reference"

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Anakonda, featuring myself and Jajuka teaming up against his argonian

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Anakonda, featuring myself and Jajuka teaming up against his argonian

That was a nice look, but there was not much of its gardener visible
I wonder, if I ask Plantera nicely, will it...

There we go, that's the good shot~

Plantera showing off the latest gardener hard at his work

*GULK*

They keep vanishing, but i am sure this one will serve well~

I wanted to sit in his lap, and I think I overall succeeded~

Full resolution version of this month's Champion commission

A big kiss for a good pet~

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Anakonda, featuring myself playing around with an argonian of his

Rei threw a birthday party for himself, invited Eladrim, Bantam's friend, and even provided him with a footstol - how considerate~

Commission for Fletch, 3 pages planned, title is a work in progress

In the final installment of this little series, I am showing off my proper colors, and a special size - fueled by my special large friend, and some anonymous little servant of hers for reference

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Anakonda

Forgot to post it alongside the public post on FA, this is the complete version in all its glory

Forgot to post it alongside the public post on FA, this is the complete version in all its glory

I am sure the horse has *something* left over from last time that the good soft boy can get out of him. And Schatti is still wriggling in him~

Bogleeches are a pretty convenient food and energy source for me - they simply get all floppy and lazy when I drain them, and slowly shrink. Bigsoft is a very good, eager boy, who is very good at this~

The gift is work, though. Internship, unpaid, assisting Bloop and Bloop's tail around.

A monthly commission for Champion patron, Keda

A monthly commission for Champion patron, Keda

Come now, I am sure you can do more than just 4 little squats~

A milksnake color pattern is very appropriate for the process of milking strength from someone, I feel

Let us start small~

Yamma belongs to my newest Keeper

Monthly commission for Champion patron, Keda

A small private commission for Bantam, with a friend of his transforming into Kaa for cuddles

Commission for Fletch, 3 pages planned, title is a work in progress

For Keeper patron, Flowen. Also starring Flowen~

The default semi-transparent text in this box says "Why do you create?", and it is clearly to mildly rustle some jimmies. Not too much. Just a little rustle. The kind that makes you feel a little more used to it. A little more accepting of it.

Story by Solidness:

The last time Jimmy had been at an aquarium he had been respectful of the instructions posted at the outside of each themed section and on plaques beside the windows where fish bobbed without regard for the viewers who, from their viewpoint, were no doubt misshapen by the curved glass which separated them from the audience. Raised eyebrows and barely audible tuts were the way in which he let his public feelings known. Often he thought about how the guppies and starfish felt when large, across-the-pond, tourists jammed their flashing cameras and loud voices up close to get a reaction.

Now he knew. Or at least if he was a fish in its own habitat and two bright flashes had been against the limits of it he would know what his reaction would be. Not to do tricks or swim away in fear, but to freeze in place and feel the water turn cold in comparison to the rush on his cheeks. Jimmy reckoned that the inhabitants of the aquarium did not have to worry about being eaten by those who visited. Can you call someone a visitor if it’s in their own home? Did she even consider him a trespasser?

It was not a question to her mind as to who would reach for the shower handle first once she went inside, her little pet would be naturally stunned that she had shown up so boldly to address him about not asking to use her shower by himself. She suspected that he knew and was not only prepared but fantasised about the repercussions of such an act. Despite being a large creature he did not turn around as she approached the glass, perhaps the rush of water from the shower-head masked her movements. Jimmy did notice her when the finger of her forepaw, by itself the size of his own arm, drew a shape in the condensation on the outer surface of the glass.

“Sheraht...” he stammered and went cold despite the warm water. “...I was just, testing it to make sure the hot flow had been fixed, yeah,” Jimmy turned around to face the shower door and the bar of soap in one hand shot from his grip as if it had been propelled.

Whatever the glass was made of was somehow sufficiently strong enough to hold back her prodigious bust without cracking. Sheraht had pressed herself against it and, because of her towering size, rested both arms atop the pane while looking down at him. Jimmy saw the expression of hunger across her face be punctuated by a lascivious lick across her lips by a lavender tongue, and could not help enjoy that she was sizing him up so brazenly.

“From the fog I’d say so,” she said. Her large taur body only just fit in the room and was not helped by the long bulk of her stupendous tail which she kept elevated off the ground and took active concentration to maintain, or at least he reckoned it did. The shape she had drawn with a finger-tip as wide as his head was a heart and the tinge upon his face deepened from pink to rouge. He stepped forward enough that just the inch-thick panel separated them, then wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled inwards.

Sheraht lowered the arm that had been atop it and alighted her hand on her waist.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” encouraged Sheraht but did not step across the line where the tiles underfoot dropped an inch. Jimmy reached out for a moment as if to caress his fingers across the smooth surface, then thought otherwise and composed his tenuous expression.

“Are you a vampire, do you need permission?” he joked.

“I need a pet who will do whatever I say, whenever I say it, without objections or other motivations. Do you, Jimmy,” she began to walk forward with short thuds accompanying each step of her massive forepaws into the shower. He backed away as quick as she moved, “do you think that sounds like you?”

“What kind of things would you ask of them?”

“I need them to forget everything and devote themselves wholly to me, they would worship my paws, massage what their small, human hands can reach, and suffer the pleasure of my attention.”

“You want a slave it sounds like.”

“How you call yourself does not interest me,” she countered and Jimmy’s back touched the cool glass which led to a gasp from his mouth. The air came from his lungs, out of his mouth, and arched around the palm of one forepaw which she had lifted to hover an inch from his face.

“Mistress, goddess, my beauty,” offered the trapped human.

“And you don’t even need training,” smiled Sheraht and closed her forepaw around his face. It begun then, all four hours of his sixth initiation.

A variation of the monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Keda

A monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Keda

Keep it secret here, keep it safe, or let the world enjoy it? Adherents ($10) and above - it's the content made for you, cast your vote below.

A cute birb visits his old crush Kaa - who in turn hijacks him for an extremely intimate evening~

A birthday gift for Bantam, commissioned by Rei

The end~

Down they go, wriggling and squirming~

:cake:

Nice deep swallows, now

Lean into it, make her feel it

The prey no longer senses any danger, only relaxation, even as the predator makes his move~

Aw, he messed up its hair. Just like that. How inconsiderate

The presence alone is overwhelming. With the hypnosis, and the gradual, enveloping coiling, it is just too much~

She is not nearly strong enough to stop him herself

About time I tapped into this classic scenario~

Feeling small and soft~

A monthly commission for Nomad

"Do not let them know you enjoy the unpopular, anon. They may judge you."

I imagine most do not know, but I started out as an artist drawing pones. I doubt I will come back to it in the same volume as before, but I can still draw a mean hoof and a mane

"Requesting someone draw the scene from 0:35 onwards with Nyx with the dildobat and the rest of them being /mlp/ elements or figures

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLcHJN1soY4"

"You do not like Nyx, anon? That's fine, it's okay to have a bad taste. The one true queen, in her infinite wisdom, forgives you."

Posted to be contrarian in an MLP drawthread on 4chan

To think a mammal, and a Keeper of mine, would invite me for dinner, and then expect me to leave

This one has not taken a full breath in at least... 5 hours now? Ah, who counts.

I like the twitching. And the weak wheezing.

A Keeper's persona, sketched out for the first time

Monthly commission for Champion tier patron, Nomad

The temple residents do need services. The keepers, such as Keda here, are required to provide for them~

Keda here needs to make a situp only once - just one rep - to complete this exercise his new personal trainer Sherhat has devised for him.

He has been trying for a solid minute now with minimal progress, trying to tap out or squirm away, as if this is some kind of competition - let us see how this concludes...

A little something for a pet~

Keeping up the presentability of the royal castle's labyrinthine garden is a necessity, less so than a matter of preference - but royalty seeing to it in absence of the gardener is not quite as necessary, it now occurs to the princess as she struggles to hold a volleyball-sized piranha plant bulb away from herself with outstretched arms. Weeds like this getting past the castle walls - burrowing below, or being carried by wildlife as seeds over - was nothing new, but this one... its stem is unusually long and thick for its size, writhing powerfully, slapping bodily at her arms and sides, as she just barely holds it away from her by the succulent leaves surrounding the bulb, its "lips" open wide as it continues trying to reach at her. Another oddity - no visible thorns on the stem or inside the bulb - gives Peach pause as she stumbles back from the plant that ambushed her with a lunge at her shoulder from an unkempt bush deep in the gardens, which only proves to be a dangerous distraction, as the plant seals its bulb tight, still facing her, and then makes a short lunge toward her face, its lips unsealing and sending a thick warm cloud of purple-pink mist into her face.

Still catching her breath from the struggle, the shocked princess gulps down a good mouthful or the rich, sweet-tasting pollen, squinting and stumbling back, turning away and coughing, her right palm facing at the offending piranha plant - putrid piranha? in a garden this hot and dry? they are never spotted outside of swamps... and their vapours are supposed to be foul - her mind races, as her mouth turns dry and her head swims from the fumes. Her confused train of thought is interrupted suddenly, as she feels something warm and wet clamp around her defensively outstretched hand, and yank her back into the lazily descending cloud of pollen suspended in pink gas, swirling it around, and forcing her to drop on her knees. The plant seals it bulb around her hand, and wraps powerfully around her forearm, like a snake, squeezing it tightly, causing her to gasp, inadvertently swallowing some more of the sweet, thick fume, as she uses her left hand to try and force the coils of the stem off of her arm.

The princess brings her knee up, planting a foot down to brace herself as she pulls away from the plant with a grunt, forcing a stalemate as she starts to unwind the thick vine off of her arm, her right hand chewed slowly by the toothless lips of the plant, slathered in its thick and sticky nectar, making her grit her teeth in disgust as her trapped hand starts gradually going numb, already feeling insidious warmth under the skin as the toxic syrup seeps into it.
Slowly, from within the leaves of the messy hedge in front of her, more of the emerald-green succulent leaves emerge - arresting her attention and causing her to freeze, staring wide-eyed, as another, notably larger piranha plant opens up in front of her, its meaty, glistening leaves unfolding to expose its bulb, as big as a pumpkin, its mouth opening slowly and its tongue sagging out, thick nectar dripping lazily from it. The princess locks up as she realizes what she is facing - the solitary piranha plants, even poisonous ones, are little more than traps for unaware travelers; dangerous to a degree, but harmless at distance, and stationary... if there are two here... are these pack hunters?

The large bulb facing her directly slowly inches forward - and as Peach sees the stem extend by its sides, realizing it is slowly preparing to strike, its stem snaking behind its bulb as it keeps its smugly grinning maw open, all the time she wasted catches up with her, and she pushes away with her foot, gaining just a few inches of extra distance as the fist plant's stem now secured her left hand with a tight coil to her upper right arm, as she shouts at the top of her lungs: "HE-lmppph!!!" - interrupted instantly as the predatory plant lunges at her, the pink and purple interior of its maw momentarily filling her vision before everything goes dark, its lips sealing around her entire face, under her chin and over the crown of her head, knocking her powerfully back and down into the unkempt grass.
The thick tongue of the plant pushes powerfully and unceremoniously at her lower face, covering her lips and nose in its thick saliva-like nectar, some getting into her lips and onto her tongue, the rich, sweet flavor from the pollen in the air on her tongue magnifying tenfold. The thicker stem of the large plant curls around her side as it slithers onto her, over her shoulder and behind her neck, holding her head firmly planted into its maw even as Peach thrashes wildly on the grass, panicking, forcing her left hand out of the coil of the first plant, and trying to peel the one smothering her off of her face, trying uselessly to push away at its leaves.

Suddenly the predatory, smothering kiss of the plant allows Peach to draw in a wheezing inhales, the tongue leaving her face - and swallowing in a lungful of thick gas, as the large plant extrudes it, over its tongue, and into her lips and nostrils, the sensation of the thick fumes in her chest driving her to further panic, her legs kicking at the dirt, her free arm pounding uselessly at the succulent leaves of the bulb sealed tightly around her face, its heavy stem piling on her midsection, preventing her from moving anywhere. In the darkness of the heavy, greedy kiss, the princess' eyes roll up, as she feels her airways open up, the contents of the fumes preventing her from coughing as she originally did, making her gasp for more instead, as she takes another quick panicked half-a-lungful in, and then another, before scrambling to slip her fingers under the lip of the large plant pressing at the temple of her head, her muffled voice barely penetrating the thickness of the bulb: "Nno- no, someone help m-". The touch on the lips only provokes the plant to push on her face heavier, pinning her head down into the soft grass and ground below, and for its tongue to return at her face, pushing into her gasping mouth and at her nose, smothering her again, and letting its nectar flow over her own tongue, silencing her.

The princess starts writhing desperately again, but as she tries to squirm away from under the carnivorous flower piled onto her, her chest feels warmer, the sweet toxic pollen in her lungs warming her body, the heat seeping into her heart and slowing its frantic beat, her kicking legs' frenzied dance gradually slowing down as her muscles are slowly relaxed by the thick fumes surrounding her. Her dry mouth filled with the sweet nectar, she swallows instinctively, the rich flowery juice warming her on its way down like a stiff drink, Peach still trying to turn to face left or right to evade the suffocating pliable tongue covering her face from the bridge of her nose to her chin, and failing, as the massive pumpkin-sized bulb pushes dominantly down at her head, its soft lips still sealed securely around her face, keeping her in place.
As her struggle grows weaker, the pounding of her left arm's fist on the leaves turning to weak scratching along their smooth glistening surface, her right arm, now swallowed by the first plant down to her elbow, licked and slathered in its sweet toxic saliva grow limper by the second, her legs' kicking degrading into slow pushes at the garden floor below, the heels of her sandals sliding uselessly over the grass - the suffocating stationary lick of the plant slowly peels off of her nose, letting her pull in a wheezing inhale again, yet more pollen flowing into her nostrils, making her shudder as it does, and relaxing her body further, allowing her to release a few pleading muffled groans, inaudible past a few feet away from the scene of predation...

Gradually, as the heavy plant on her face continue to feed her its poison, exhaling its fumes into her nose, and slowly writhing its pliant, nectar-soddened tongue into her lips, Peach's senses alter. Her lungs start feeling better, warmer, fuller, as she inhales the pollen, the taste of the liquid on her tongue arresting her focus, the feeling of swallowing it becoming less alien and more pleasant by the second - and slowly, her already weakened struggle starts to fade, her legs resting still, her right fist, now deep in the soft and tight stem of the smaller plant, opens up, her fingers sinking into the tight tunnel of the "gullet" of the plant, feeling the nectar inside, as thick as sap, fill the space between her fingers, her left arm falling down from clutching the plant kissing her head, and into its coil on her stomach and chest, feeling them smoothly and slowly writhe atop her slowly expanding and contracting chest. Her shoulders lower and relax, as she starts taking long, deep inhales of the exotic piranha plant's vapours, her body starting to feel better, as if softened after a long hot bath, gradually going limp and pleasantly relaxed. The bulb kissing her face softens its lips' seal as she reduces her struggles, and slowly brings up its stem curled under her back and neck, gently raising her into a seated position, as the thick loops of its stem piled onto her stomach slide off of her, and hook under her, wrapping slowly, almost sensually around her waist and under her behind, and raising her up, keeping her aloft in a lounging position.

Within the plant's maw, Peach's face blushes copiously now, her eyes half-lidded and rolled back, inhaling the sweet pink fumes readily, almost needily, as her lips close and suckle on the thick pale-pink tongue still in her mouth, collecting more of the nectar and gulping it down thirstily, the sweetness of the scents and flavors gradually eclipsing her sense of self-preservation, filling her mind and pacifying her body. The coils of the plant's stem wrap languidly around her hips, and around her legs, bringing her slowly over the hedge from which she was ambushed - her body and legs squirming a little just to feel the plant grasp her, as she starts to submit to it, making it clench its coils tightly around her, pushing her sandals off of her, and kissing her face a little heavier, to which she moans softly and lets her body grow limp.
The greenery rustles notably loudly as Peach is carried over it, feeling light-headed, weightless, and utterly relaxed, her free arm wrapped around the plant kissing her so sweetly, her relaxed right arm brought up over her head and behind her - and as she feels the coils of the plant's vine slacken off of her legs, its kiss softens, and she feels a warm, soft, damp surface under her stockings-clad feet. Her mind addled, filled with the pleasant sensation of the carnivorous plant sweetly and gently poisoning her, she pushes her feet down at the surface, spreading her toes to feel more of it, her hand reaching out forward and laying on some supple, smooth surface, as the kiss slowly leaves her face, provoking her to try and lean after it - until her eyes glance past its wide open maw...
And see the largest piranha plant she ever saw, the giant bulb wider across than her arm span, its smiling wide-open lips thicker than her waist, her left hand resting atop the upper one, visibly sinking into its supple softness, its massive tongue as large as her bed - as it reaches out under her feet and legs, and licksg slowly up under her, riding her skirt up, as the coils of the previous plant slowly lower her onto its soft, pliant, salivating tongue.

Peach's legs twitch a few times, as the saliva of the great tongue seeps through her thin stockings and into her feet, the muscles immediately feeling softer and warmer than they ever did, as if she just had had a long, relaxing foot massage. The princess moans softly, the nectar still covering her lower face stretching between her lips, as the large bulb by her cheek licks at the side of her face, almost cradling her head in the crook of its tongue, from her jaw to her hairline, while the bulb around her raised upper arm licks back up from her elbow, releasing her arm from its stem, and taking some time to chew softly and lick at her palm and fingers, its tongue pressing between them as it hungrily and insistently tastes her palm.
Gradually, as the coils of the plant lower Peach onto the tongue of the massive bulb, she exhales with a shuddering moan, her pollen-filled lungs releasing a visible cloud of the fumes, just as the plant at the side of her face does. Her legs grow limp as she is slid down along the tongue, its tip slipping up along her back and riding her shirt up to expose her belly - while the thick and syrupy strings of nectar fall from the palate of the massive bulb's maw and onto her legs, relaxing their muscles, her heels sinking down into the plush expanse at the base of the tongue as it grows softer closer to its thick base. The princess arches her back needily, as the overwhelming bouquet of sensations fills her, the deep relaxation in her muscles, the sweetness in her mouth and satisfying thickness of fumes in her lungs making her head and body feel pleasantly filled, and drunk, and numb, and yet making her want more, desire more, instinctual and primal thirst for the unique pleasure making her forget everything but the source of the nectar slathering her lower body, and the fumes that billow smoothly and voluminously out from the maw she is being brought into, over her skin and into her face, to be inhaled readily by her.

The coils of the plant gradually widen and pass over her head as the massive tongue slips up her back, the medium-sized bulb kissing the back of her head goodbye as the tip of the huge tongue slips up the back of her neck and over her head, supporting her and letting/forcing her to relax her neck muscles, to surrender to the giant tongue, as it is bringing her in, almost her entire body now slipped within its huge, plush, pale-grass colored lips. Her right hand is surrendered by the smaller plant as well, uncoiled and allowed to fall onto the tongue behind her head, as she is smoothly pulled into the velvet, glistening, pastel-purple expanse of the massive plant's bulb.
The lips of the giant piranha plant nearly close behind her, leaving just a small crevice to allow a faint light from behind her to reach in, illuminating the extra thick gaseous fumes around her, speckles pf pollen infused in it, flowing around her and over her, covering her, making her feel hot all over, relaxed and content. The plant continues to salivate the nectar - that now falls slowly and warmly onto her, into her hair and running down her face, into her open and greedily inhaling lips, on her lolled out tongue, her senses slowly and gradually overwhelmed with pleasure, as she sinks into the pliant expanse of the giant stupefyingly soft and sweet tongue, her lungs filled with the dense pink fumes, making her head swim powerfully, forgetting up and down, enveloped by the softest expanse from below, and poured on by rich and sweet nectar from above, seeping into her skin, softening all of her body's muscles - making her feel most relaxed she has ever been in her life.

Slowly, the massive plant raises to face up - and Peach inside feels herself gradually slide down the huge tongue she rests in, the softness of it making her limbs sink into it. Her arms wrap around it, one reaching aside to press down and grip its supple flesh, another staying behind her head, pressing into the underflesh of its tip as it rests atop her head, salivating down through her hair and over her face, enveloping her with its softly dominating support, her fingers digging effortlessly into it, its warmth seeping into her already nearly numb hand - as swell as into her body from below, the sultry warmth of the pliant tongue itself mixing with the intoxicating heat permeating into her body from below.
As princess-turned-plantfood slides down along the massive tongue toward its yet somehow softer base, the middle of the tongue rises up, making her back arch gently, as her feet and lower legs sink into the malleable base of the tongue - and slowly, she is pressed up at the soft palate of the plant's maw, the soft pressure of her softened, heated body provoking and additional release of nectar that floods into her mouth, over her skin and through her clothing, seeping into her skin and making it feel so warm its almost burns with the most pleasant burn of her life, as Peach, pinned to the palate of a huge piranha plant's mouth by its tongue, feels more relaxed and peaceful than she imagined possible.

Gradually, the press of the meaty tongue at her back undulates, letting her slide between its supple surface and the copiously salivating palate - down, past the base of the tongue, and into the stem of the massive plant. Her feet are gently brought together - the change that she can barely feel, numbed thoroughly by the toxic syrup of the carnivorous flora - and as she glances down over her nectar-slathered body, her stockings, garter belt, panties and gardening clothing soddened thoroughly, she sees her feet disappear into a dark, snug opening at the base of the tongue. Her mid almost completely overwhelmed by the addictive juices and vapours around her, the princess can only feel happy excitement as she realizes how much richer the nectar must be at its source, pressing her head back into the tongue she slides down, sinking into its soft expanse down to her ears with a prolonged moan, her smiling mouth opening wide open as she feels the warmth enveloping half her head, and shudders as she feels the stem sling to her ankles, and gently pull her down along.
The swallow comes, as the lips of the massive plant close behind Peach, leaving her in the soft, sweet, hot darkness of the plant's bulb - not that she minds, as the senses other than sight control her desires entirely now. Her eyes already long unfocused and glazed over by the intense pleasure, she can only pant for what pollen she can a still inhale, and writhes slowly, to sink into and feel as much of the plush tongue at her back as possible, its enveloping embrace, its insidious warmth that penetrates to her very bones, filling her with pacifying heat. As Peach starts squirming in the throes of toxic ecstasy, the swallowing of the plant's "gullet" pulls her deeper in, clenching around her lower legs and bringing her smoothly into the vine up to her hips, pushing her skirt up - next swallow washing down her legs and squeezing them to sink her down to her chest in a slow, smooth motion. Nectar now starting to pool around her waist, Peach feels the pressure of the swallowing stem around her midsection, and tries to worm her left arm down into it, to feel the sweet grasp of the irresistible predatorial plant, her right still digging into the soft tongue above her - and as another swallow comes, slathering her entire body in the sweetest juice, seizing her up to her neck, with one of her last coherent thoughts, the princess realizes what has happened to the vanished gardener.

Quietly, deep in the back of the giant piranha plant's bulb, an invisible from the outside swallow hides the princess of the castle into the plant's neck, a barely notable bulge lowering smoothly into the plant's 4-foot thick long stem.
Peach's head now taken into the plant, compressed between the nectar-seeping fold of succulent, soft plant flesh, she loses all capacity of coherent thoughts, the condensed pollen permeating into her body - her eyes roll back and she loses herself to the infinite softness and sweetness around her.
Only the plant itself feels the fingers of her hand shudder weakly, just before being swallowed down, at last - its plush green lips formed into a never-changing smug smile.

About time I fed piranha plant its natural prey

Story in progress, to be released alongside public post of this

Choose the predator/dom to be featured next, out of these three

A monthly commission for the Champion level patron, Nomad

The snakes are myself and Jajuka, of course

Jimmy is taking up all that good couch space Sheraht's legs should occupy

How rude

A little study based on gingerbeer's Creeper, and featuring Bloop's original creator as the test dummy~

A fullized pup and a pony are a fine start, given his length~

One vote per patron, Acolytes and above

There was a thigh choke before this, that was the constriction~

That is Taco in those coil and legs

For one acuriousmancub on tumblr~

Smuckers is the character of Wolfencognito

The brunette has been submitted by one of the Keepers, and I think I used her well~

A short-notice YCH auction is going up very soon, for a pet with a sudden necessary expense

Two panels; New Years theme; Inkanyamba coiling, kissing, and vore

This month's Champion piece, with myself as a plush

A bouquet of flowers and a formal dinner - Plantera knows its table etiquette. Though I think that may be a bed...

A friendly hungry visit from Plantera to one of my Keepers

Extra detail, for extra squish~

For one Bantam, featuring an old snuggle buddy of his, as well as Kaa

WIP, but almost complete

This idea started a while ago, with me considering how a snake could make a heart shape without breaking their own tail, which is what many artist end up doing by my impression - and I arrived to this shape, with a hanging coil in the middle. Soon after, I came to the realization that this form can be done with any part of the body, and also, the fact that the middle coil can be placed over the head and onto the neck, while the outer curls would then lower down to restrain arms

Taco has been very sweet, as usual, so he gets to try it on first~

I am preparing a YCH - single comic page, Inkanyamba vs 1 anthro, coiling, hypnosis, constriction, vore. Should be ready to go up for auction sometime next week

Cover for a story, commissioned by Commander Wolfe

Full resolution of the monthly piece for the Champion tier patron

Weekly colored sketch

He is properly camouflaged in the standard post, here is a clearer look

His kiss, his colors, his hugs to have~

Happy Birthday to Baera~

I have heard that one Haldos/Rickochet, at some point, in unrelated context, joked about Sol breaking him.

I presume that only means we can invite ourselves into his home and break him.

NSFW version posted to discord server.

A birtday gift for Red

Preview of a birthday gift to a pet

Mark turned back and found Aspen was gone. In the short time in which he had glanced to the side and felt a new wave of unsteady panic wash over him, the inner muscles had drawn him down into the squelching compact depths where the muscles would squeeze his rendered body over and over again with enough power to satisfy the promised potential ‘third bout’. Instead of his dangling legs, Mark was faced with the black scales less than a foot from his face, the false fangs and glint of the snake’s brilliant pale pattern practically beamed like a full moon but was still outdone by the stare of those twin suns. His brow flattened and from his nose came an unsettling whine until he was out of air.

“After two bodies I am satiated.” begun the serpent with a voice that he felt in his bones. “If you believe you can serve another purpose than sustenance then I would loathe to miss it.”

“Who are you?” Mark whimpered and he was unable to properly meet the gaze. He turned his head away from the serpent only to be promptly returned by a length which laid across the back of his neck like a scarf. Mark trembled but did not try to remove it despite the instinctual temptation.

“Inkanyamba.” spoke the snake. “Are you afraid?”

“Yes, I’m terrified!” He cried out and was surprised by the honesty in his own answers even though there was no reason to lie.

“Of ending up like your campmates?”

“Y-yes, yes y-y-yes yes.”

“I find morsels have s-s-such ways of attempting to bargain for their freedom.”

Inkanyamba drew herself around and placed a coil that reached from his knees to his chest directly in front of him. It landed with a dull thud and for a second he dared not look at it. But once the clamp around his neck was loosened and movement was relatively free he found that maintaining the gaze was impossible and so he dropped it to see what was offered. He cried out as Aspen’s skeleton lay as a barely notable hill inside her thick body like a cadaver on a mortuary slab though this one was alive and barely moved though enough to be noticeable. He struggled against the muscles of the throat which resisted any motion that he made but inevitably descended with the slick muscles which guided him down.

“Pus-s-sh him.” whispered Inkanyamba into Mark’s ear after she slid around behind him and took half of his head between her lips. “Use your strength, don’t hold back.” Mark put his hands on the bulge that was made in her body and shivered at the gentle touch she allowed him. There was no thud or crash but more of a quiet pat and he expected some tactile differentiation between one set of scales, the black which reflected orange, and the other, her silver copy of a calavera but found none as he passed his hands over akin to a nervous pianist on stage.

Just like an instrument it made noise when he played it. Beneath the ministrations of his fingers it wailed and cried out rather than make the delicate tones that matched his actions. Atonal and uncomfortable music was played with the conductor finding a way to urge the musician to continue playing despite the shudders that came with each note. Mark pushed down and found the weight of the serpent on his body and in his mind lessened when he tried hard enough to that his hands pushed in the scales like dough. Inkanyamba would only need to flex with the barest of effort to undo his efforts and did so when she felt he was letting up even a little. His fingers distorted the pattern of the skeleton to the point where it seemed as though the equine was underwater and his image bent through the diffraction of light. Mark knew that Aspen was instead underneath the muscles that would be put to work later with his own body if he did not satisfy the serpent as best as he was physically able to.

“What is the matter? You cannot do anything to s-s-save him now so focus on yourself. Do not think about how compact it is in there, do not think about how my muscles would knead you to pieces as they drag you down.” Inkanyamba’s tongue licked against his ear and Mark was subject to a trial of what it would be like if it encompassed his entire body, the wet and slick sounds resonating in his head with nothing around to drown them out except the pulse of his heartbeat. “Do not think of how long it would take for the end to be reached.” Saliva trickled down from his involved ear to his neck where her tail had already dripped down from the nape to his chest. She fished inside his pajamas with no such subtlety or disguise for her actions to undress him. He did not dare to look down as his clothes pushed outwards from her investigative probing in case she took it as immediate refusal to savour his own life. Buttons popped regardless.

“P-please don’t make me do this any more.” He begged.

“Do you think he knows it’s you pushing on him?” Inkanyamba whispered. “Would you lean down and tell him if I told you to? He might be too busy trying to breathe.” At that, she exhaled into his ear with almost enough breath to blow the thoughts out of his mind. Almost. His fear was like an anchor which froze him in place with wide eyes and a dry mouth staying as if immovable expressions. “You are too dressed up, morsel, is it that cold out here that you must wear so much? I assure you inside me is the furthest thing from freezing you’ll ever experience. My throat will cling to your body closer than air and all of it courses with hot blood. You’re sweating already, here let me help you cool off.” Inkanyamba popped the last button and the sides of his nightdress hung apart to expose his chest.

Conversely, Mark felt that he had no air to breathe whatsoever already. An act that should have been freeing instead put him deeper into her mind-games. Had she already decided what his fate was going to be, like that of his campmates into the belly of the beast, or would she find his pushing merely perfunctory and let him leave with the guilt that he alone survived this encounter? These ideas spiralled around his head as each played out in an extended run-time to discover the end goal of each path. He did not like their endings.

“What is it you want, I’ll bargain anything with you!”

“Your expressions are all wonderful, yet the only thing I want from you is... ” Inkanyamba left both the imprint of her lips upon his ear and the next part of her sentence to hang in the air. Her head pulled back from his and disappeared behind him into the gloom of the night air and out of eyesight. Mark was almost foolish enough to try and follow her head to see where she had gone but was reminded to continue by the coil that sat over his legs and pressed against his back not to let up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Aspen.” whimpered Mark as he pushed at parts of the skeleton beneath him. “You’re an idiot you’re such an idiot for bringing me along with you I could have been home instead of doing this! I never wanted to come camping, why did you convince me to come along! Both of you are to blame, I hate you guys, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Mark felt a lash curl around his ankles and in one swift movement his legs are taken from kneeling to prone and his body fell forward. The speed at which it happened ensured that he was unable to put enough strength into his arms to stop himself as he collapsed face-first against the thick coil which had received his attention. It took him a second to peel himself from it to realise that he was laying atop the skeletal figure and the added motion caused it to scream and thrash. Mark cried out and attempted to push himself away from Ivorine’s terrible fate only to be distracted by the coil, which had been a wall behind his back, which now toppled onto him and draped itself around his neck and closed against him like a winter jacket being zipped up to the throat. Mark made a choice right then to try and pry her coils from him before the muscles choked him out.

Only she took his wrists together when he reached for her loops and the vertical lines down his chest turned horizontal around his neck and begun to winch. Already short on any meaningful breath, Mark wheezed as the muscle squeezed around his throat and trapped his arms together with enough bondage that he alone would not be able to free himself from it. The pattern of bone was so close that he may have reflected off it if he looked down and had the sense to focus but Mark found it difficult to pay attention to anything anymore. The grip was stronger than the seat belt he had fought with all the way here, for him it was the only point of reference for the way it restrained him into utter immobility was just alike, except this was far stronger and adapted to the way he moved, and would not release him. There must have been someone who could help him now like a ranger or perhaps some other camper out there that he could call out to.

“Help! Help me someone, please help me!” Mark wailed with the air in his lungs being depleted by each panicked word. Inkanyamba, with a wry smile on her face, leant in and whispered a single word,

“...hysteria.”

And she got it. Combined with the sensation of her warm breath on his bare feet, the word threw Mark’s brain into overdrive and he was sent into a fearful shock. His thoughts became a record stuck on repeat of being a prey thing to a predator who vastly outsized him, and was occasionally interrupted by the punctuation of his nerves telling him just how far up she had consumed. Inkanyamba began and slid her tongue up his calves to guide him into the centre of her capacious maw where the sides hurried him towards the entrance to her great throat with no great rush. When they disappeared inside and her muscles took a hold of the receipt since his ankles Inkanyamba heard the pitch of his voice rise an octave and his speech broke in unusually placed breaths and more common sobs. Mark was too stunned to even shift his legs as from both sides the promised warmth and slickness pushed them together enough that it felt like one continuous limb from waist down. Her tongue delved between them still to draw him down as if the muscles could not simply haul him deeper. It was cruellest this way, for when the sensation was prolonged to work out those emotions that the majority of prey things would never have the luck to experience, the true taste of a morsel came with it.

Perhaps it was a bit much to bring the horse down her neck until he rested in the coil which lay behind the terrified dragon. He was much too afraid to notice that the gang was all back together for one penultimate shebang before they descended her in unison but that was no matter of real concern. Mark froze as her lips clamped around his back and navel with a wet sound. His legs were being pulled and kneaded and squeezed from all angles and he remembered what she had said a few moments ago. Despite his obstruction Inkanyamba was still able to speak to him and being inside her made him vibrate along with her vocal cords. The resonance went through him,

“Do not blame yourself for not claiming victory tonight, you had stiff competition in the form of my hunger.” The soft bite which followed was huge and served to crush his spirit even further than before. All at once Inkanyamba drew Mark’s legs back with her throat and pushed forward with her head to secure a hold around the shoulders with her lips. He yelped and whined in more so in fear and expectation of pain yet feeling none of the latter.

“Please... ” was all Mark could manage to say between shudders and moans.

“No morsel, you have always been on the menu tonight.” She silenced him merely by speaking over what he had said. “How did I describe it to you again? Inaccurately, I suppose. The reality may be far worse than that.” Her hiss recalled where the tip of her tongue was against him, and it wove between his fingers to preemptively stop him from holding on to her lower lip as some sort of railing over the dark abyss. Mark tried to bat it away with the limited movement that she allowed him but he could never build up enough strength to do more than deliver them to her inky appendage, nevermind dent it or deter her. Of course his mind was more focused on his lower body which she was toying with. His legs and waist were submerged in the wet throat made narrow by the activity of a hundred muscles stronger than himself. They squeezed as one, they separated each leg and kneaded it by itself and rolled the point of pressure around from top to side to bottom and every place in between.

“Stop it immediately, you must, I’m pleading.”

“You sure are.” yawned wide the serpent and drew his upper body into her throat so that his head passed between her lips and was framed on all sides by the pink flesh of her saliva-coated maw. Droplets trickled down the upper jaw onto his face where the contours of his features guided them in different directions until they drooled down below his chin and towards her tongue. The tail around his arms had retreated and now hung around ready to capture another but not before they had delivered their payload into her without letting it have any space to reach out. Mark writhed like a fish out of water, or would have if the several-feet of active muscle in every direction did not clench down and smother his body.

In the distance there were two forms which looked for all the world to be out of her body against a tree on which they leant. They were perhaps forty feet from the scene of hunger and he was about to use his last air to call out to them and warn them to stay away, if he could not be saved from this... and that was what he believed, he could drive away others. But as he descended and the salmon vignette closed in, the brief illusion was dispelled. Not only were the figures mere imprints on some far away coils given life by the flickering light source of the campfire, but the vertical trunk was made of scale and muscle rather than bark. A tear rolled down his cheek and what met it was the delicate touch of Inkanyamba’s tail tip. It cupped it so he could see the glint through the liquid of orange flame, before letting it drip onto her inky tongue. The serpent sighed in what seemed to be utter appreciation, then the tail returned to his cheek and pushed like a finger. Mark could feel the hot flesh crawl up the side of his face and begin to distort his cheeks. He realised he had just a moment left to see the outside world, and so he screamed.

Inkanyamba’s jaws shut with a harmless snapping bite and the only other sounds, unless the ear was strained, were that of leaves overhead and faraway animals too. She had sunk beneath her coils to slide upwards and breach the surface, for gravity to be on her side to aid in taking in the helpless dragon down. Her head was pointed up and it stretched her throat taut and with the summarising swallow the bulge of his body in her neck was visible and she traced it down with her tail tip. The skeletal shape faded in gradually. She found the other two without much effort and brought the coils in which they panicked and struggled near their final campmate. Aspen went beneath, Mark next and Ivorine atop them both. The ultimate layer rested her chin atop them and pulled in the rest of her body into a maze of unfathomable depth and complexity. They would all be traversing it for the rest of their lives.

“Words by prey mean very little when their fate is decided already. Don’t believe that they will sway my mind from consuming them, and forget the idea that they will hold me here. ‘Tis the season.” An alarm ringtone buzzed through the night air with only one member in its audience. “Aaah, midnight.” Golden eyes affix you.

This was insane, the strength of the snake was ridiculous and so body-encompassing that he felt like he was in a vice. One that adapted to the shape of the tool that was put inside it to completely hold it still. His legs would not move, his chest would not expand for him to draw breath, his ankles were momentarily free but already the sensation of sliding scales as smooth as sea-worn stone was tactile and a final cinch closed them together. The serpent allowed him motion in his neck, but only so he could choose between the descending body with terror or itself with horror. Trepidation poured off of him like an overflowing bathtub and he drowned in its coils.

“Neither your resistance nor your inevitable pleading will dissuade me from rendering you hapless. Do not let that stop you, of course. If you are to be eaten - you may as well help your predator... ” hissed the voice in his ear. There were no boundaries of personal space any more, not between him and the monster as the coils around his head shifted to expose more of him, only for the lips to part and cover up the entire side of his head. His ear was lost and was set upon by the tongue which encircled the base to toy with it idly. “This-s-s is not personal... morsel.” It spoke and then promised, “One last bout before it is your time."

For a second the coils slackened. The tight grip exceeding that of a clenched fist relaxed until his chest was able to expand and Aspen took the chance as soon as he was able. The cool night air was drawn into his lungs and soothed the fire inside him and dissipated the spots inside his eyes so he could see clearly. It was so clean and untainted by pollution of a city that he remembered the reason why he had been so convinced to come along on this trip. Had he known he would have taken the car horns any day. Aspen exhaled. He expected the next inhale to come because that was what always happened next. Instead the horse was subject to the serpent’s most intense power. He was seized as soon as the last molecule of air was pushed from his body his diaphragm, and any remaining stragglers were assuredly expelled by the coils which ground against each other and creaked around his body.

Aspen’s face contorted as he was taken by surprise. The snake watched his expression change between screwed-up tension, where his eyes were pinned shut and his teeth were grit together, and the wide begging mouth, with bulging eyes which exploited his need for that precious oxygen. The reflection on the coils changed as, beneath the scales, predatory power enacted on malleable prey; the ridge of the spine became less pronounced as the dense muscle by its sides squeezed him. Folds of smooth scale-dressed skin in the curls of the coils smoothed out as they rotated, and allowed the underside of the massive body to press snugly against him. The snake skin grew taut and cast fewer, more shallow shadows across itself as a result and the round shape of a natural serpentine body became more shaped by the flexing muscle beneath the scales.

Aspen was sure that the scales would have imprinted themselves on his skin if he was ever able to be freed from this potentially deadly embrace. It’s too tight. He wheezed internally. Every part of him that was crushed felt ablaze with his head displaying the sheer muscle exhaustion for the snake to see. He gave up. He had no strength left inside of him to physically resist the bands of muscle thicker and stronger than his torso. The monster was hyper-aware of how he felt, and held the grip for a few more drawn-out seconds to ensure his mental resilience would not return. After, and instead of relaxing once again, the loops shifted to instead exhaust their captive. A pulsing cycle from his hooves up to his neck wore away the strength in his arms and legs by inducing them to feel sore from continuous action.

“Perfect.” soothed the monster into his ear. “Unless you would like to prove your perseverance to me? Physical I have no equal and I will crush you to a drooling mess first. All endings will be to feed me, make no mistake there are no other options tonight.”

“Perfect... ” soothed the monster into his ear. “Unless-s-s... you would like to prove your constitution, to me? Physically, I have no equal, and I will crush you into a drooling... mess-s-s-s first. Make no mistake, however - all endings will be to feed me. There are no other options tonight.”

He was already close to blacking out. Another round would likely painfully break him, if this monster could do this with ease then nothing he had would stand up to it, but that would mean being consumed. Aspen lifted his eyes upwards and found the dark lips had clamped around his head already.

“Let me... go... please,” he whimpered.

“If I did, what would you do? Would you like me to chase you down, will you try to escape? I would not be so gentle with you, next time we meet.”

“I... ” he mustered, but that was all. The tongue slithered out across his eye and cheek before it tucked beneath his chin and reached his other ear. The kneading and break down of his body had ceased for now and the snake pulled him from the ground to lay the loops of his confinement against a length so large that two combined would encompass Aspen from head to hoof. Without a word from the thrumming voice in his ear to warn him the coils began to shift positions from the stacked, undefeatable, loops into a structure where he was equally restrained but more exposed. Beneath the hip, but above the shins, Aspen was finally visible to any onlookers. Lengths of muscle darted and dove around him and between the parts of him that were being slowly freed. Aspen’s ankles were pushed up to bend his knees and open up enough for a length to pour between his thighs and keep them apart. The serpent’s neck rode up the length of Aspen’s spine and curled around behind his shoulder with the left leg of his falling between it and the one that sat over his thigh. Coils flowed away from his chest without the need to pass over his head until just one remained.

“Try to remove me again, it will make a good show for your last friend. Oh, can you not move any more? Put it out of your mind, then.” whispered the snake and the tail tip moved his hand to hook beneath a muscular coil as though he had pulled it off of him. Aspen choked on the collar which slithered around his neck and held beneath his chin so that he could not look elsewhere than the advancing maw. He paled as the tongue brought those lips over half of his face for an intentionally misplaced kiss. He heard more movement happen behind the wall of the monster’s neck as though broken plastic was being lifted off something.

“Ivorine? Aspen? What the hell is that!” cried out a familiar voice. For a second he had a burst of reassurance that Mark was alright and perhaps together they could overwhelm the creature. That second passed as it whispered,

“Make a show of it.” The snake leaned down and worked his exhausted body into its mouth and into the equally tight length of throat past that which Ivorine had traversed just a few minutes prior. Aspen found his limbs would not even rise to push away the mouth even if he wanted to, the kneading wear down of his body had worked and he felt numb to open air. Saliva trickled down his chin and throat from their controlling organ before it coated his short fur quickly once the entrance accepted his face, and then his shoulders, then his waist.

Mark lifted the weighty length of monster with a single hand not entirely by himself, and was witness to a scene from a film that would not have watched even at midday with friends around. A giant creature had attacked their camp and begun by destroying his tent and knocking him out. What he could see with no torch and just the flickering campfire to guide his eyes was an unending path of rising and falling body in lengths and widths that his mind could not comprehend and so simply shut down. There was a pair of legs which emerged from behind one of the lengths and it was visible as just a pair of grey knees. Mark watched and his jaw dropped as the skull pattern on the serpent’s face slowly revealed itself as the head finished swallowing the rest of what was identified as Aspen. Mark stifled a small cry with the other hand so he might not have been noticed. It turned the corner and amber fire stared right at him. He could not believe the sheer size of it as the weak legs of his campmate protruded from between the dark lips. The scale pattern stood out even more so in contrast but he could not focus on it as much he might have liked for there was a gift writhing beside him.

The monster moved closer to Mark and dropped the coil that he was holding behind his back to pull him like a leash into one that pinned his forearms against his chest. His hands were able to struggle and grasp at nothing more than air and did so in a way that could have been called helpless, which also described how he watched Aspen disappear. An inky appendage wound around the horse’s ankles directly in front of Mark and pulled them down with the tail already around his ankles as well in order to temporarily stretch the lower jaw to expose the pink inner flesh to the far smaller scarlet dragon. The effect is exactly what the serpent wanted, a loud cry of panic from the third meal as it watched the grey legs disappear into the narrow entrance in the centre of the deep maw. He backed against the coil which was behind him with quick prey-like instincts and heard muffled shouts coming from it. Mark turned with terrible anticipation with absolutely no idea of what had made that sound. It had a timbre to it that was recognisable and a memory sparked in the back of his head of filling up just before leaving town of the driver on the phone. It was that same sense of muffled speech from the closed vehicle to the outside though it seemed the roles were reversed this time.

The bulge that was Ivorine screamed inside the snake’s stomach. The hypnotic elements of the powerful golden eyes had worn off and proper sense had returned to him. Just as you could not confuse a scream for a whisper no matter the volume, so could Mark not mistake the sound as anything except sheer terror. Then he looked upon the skeletal shape of the half-dragon, half-canine body being worked through the snake’s sheer length with its arms against its side and the head forced up to look along the internal folds of the throat and stomach all the way to the end, and his mouth dried out. Mark never drew his jaw back up to close his mouth as he was experiencing utter fear and mere manners did not factor in now. In order to even process the idea of the x-ray style vision he just had to accept that what he was seeing was true just so he could move on to understand how much trouble he was in. Ivorine was unreachable on his way down several dozen feet of powerful internal muscles, Aspen was next down the hungry depths but as soon as that mouth was free then it would be...

“Should we wait for midnight?”

“Wouldn’t it be November then? It wouldn’t be a real horror story if you said it on the the first you’d just look the fool. Hey look, this guy’s telling dumb stories three-hundred and sixty four days too early!”

“It’s a lot better than ‘oh he started the ghost story at nine-fifteen ‘cause he wanted to be in bed before it got too late because he was afraid.”

“You tell me I’m afraid again and there’ll be a new story arising from tonight.”

“The vengeful poultry!”

“That’s it, you’re getting a bucket of worms and spiders and whatever else I can dig up dumped on your head while you sleep!”

“I’ll bet every single one of those marshmallows you brought that you won’t step a foot outside camp.”

“I will walk to the store and even if I only get some old fish guts from behind the counter I will get them just for you.”

The two looked at each other over the central hole of the fire pit. They had dug and filled it with spent branches and wood had collected over the last few hours before the sun had set and they had all agreed that it was better if they did not run off into a forest none of them had visited before without torches or someway to keep in contact. None of them were scared, of course why would they admit that, so the reasoning stood to be cautious rather than foolish and bold. After the sun had vanished beneath the thicket of forest, the fire which warmed them had become their only real light source besides a narrow beam from a hand-held torch lost somewhere in someone’s tent. They moved in closer and closer to avoid the growing sphere of darkness which encapsulated all three of them until they could have stabbed at each other with the sticks that had already impaled several dozen sugary treats.

“A long time ago,” began the third speaker, a relatively small dragon with ruby scales who evidently wanted his story out of the way first so he could go to bed before the early morning forest sounds could stir his imagination, “before everything in the world had basically been discovered it was a race to find it all. To stake your claim on parts of the work unseen before by modern eyes would cement your name in history forever. But,” and his voice took on a dark tone, “there is a reason we don’t live there and instead love our houses with lawns and all.

The man in a khaki hat and matching costume hacked through bushes with his machete but made slow progress through undergrowth that was so thick he couldn’t see the ground where he stepped and he stepped in a rush. Behind him by some way were shouts and instructions thrown in a language he had only just discovered just like the rest of this accursed island. Diplomacy had not been an option right from the very start, for as soon as he and his two companions met the natives on the island they had been accosted a few minutes after landing at the beach. Any attempts at gifts or communication was met with outright hostility. After trying to shake a hand, things had turned messy. Had they tried to get back in the boat then it would have been speared and drawn back by the isle’s fishermen, the only option he had was to run from them into their home and try lose them amongst the trees, and he abandoned his partners without a second thought.

He could survive a night in any jungle, he was no survival slouch himself but running water proved difficult to find away from any small settlement and what food he could see was behind fences in clear eye-sight or indistinguishable from what would likely poison him. He did not risk trespassing for assuredly the punishment for being caught with a chicken or pig would be to substitute for them and become the dinner of the island’s natives. What savages, he thought in fear of them. That intrepid spirit of his would not let him stray too far from their boundaries for the interest in documenting them was still burning inside of him.

Night fell and he needed to be extra careful; his noises would be more easily picked up and on one occasion he was sure that one locked eyes with him with a blaze that may or may or not have been reflected in its glassy orbs from the torch it held. But it moved on and joined a gathering cult that was up to superstitious ways, he was sure of it. He took shelter from where he could see into a circular group with a pit dug in the centre. They surrounded it with enough bodies to make three rows deep and more attached on with every second to see some sort of spectacle. He leant closer to them so that some of him protruded from behind the grassy undergrowth but not enough to be too notable. He could see that the pit was practically a dark hole in the ground which stood out even more than the bodies around it which at least reflected some of the moonlight and stars and torches. Then he heard the screaming. Quiet at first, it was, but steadily it grew in volume until it was almost ear-splitting as figures were dragged across the ground to them. This was no fake movie cry but the absolute terror of a person contemplating their demise!

It was his companions! The natives had not killed them but captured them instead and now planned to sacrifice them to some god or spirit of the wilds! How could he just watch from a distance when they were being treated to fierce ropes and brutal ways without at least trying to save them? If he had something like a match or a book they would be distracted from this for just long enough to release them, then they could all escape to the boat and get out of here. He didn’t even make a noise. He watched as they were brought through the ranks to the center and pulled to their knees after being hauled from that nearby village and blasphemous words were chanted over their heads to the amassed throng. He strained his ears to hear the words and missed the gentle rustle of bushes behind him until it was too late to react.

Rough hands grasped beneath his arms and across his face with a grip that would leave marks before they hauled him off the ground and out from his hiding place. He cried and he fought them but whenever a hand would leave him another two would replace it and twist his skin to force him down. The crowd roared their thankfulness to the spiritual another in thanks for additional sacrifices, the more the merrier after all. The rocks beneath his feet and knees cut his clothing to shreds and when he was finally put on his knees next to his companions there was red on his legs and tears in his eyes. One, then the other. A swish of a primitive blade too rough on the eyes to make any clean cut. Their bodies thudded at the bottom of the dark well before he even had a chance to say goodbye. And then he was alone with a blade in front of his throat. Maybe if he stood and fought then something could happen. Not likely, and he’d have to climb out the pit first.”

In the silence after Mark finished, the fire crackled and spat when its logs and timbers were taken by the heat into smouldering ash and it was the only noise they heard. Aspen took a marshmallow into his mouth and chewed on it a few times.

“Morbid.” He said and skewered another one out of the bag which sat next to Ivorine with his poking stick and set the fluffballs to roast.

“It’s the season, sorry was it too bad?” begun Mark in an apology.

“Not nearly bad enough!” Ivorine exclaimed. “It’s physical horror which is where most horror films fall down. Half their budget’s spent on fake blood instead of getting the real parts of it right before that even starts. Big ol’ red bags look dated after the first viewing but,” and he leant forward as though to start his story already or to make a point with his stick that had several crisp ‘mallows on it already with one more in his hand to be poked through, “what’s really important is getting that debate about the condition in. Think, think of a story like an essay,”

“I hate school, this is horror already.” interjected Aspen.

“You bring up a point and then the characters act as arguing points around that theme. Then the side you want to win does and everyone calls it the best book they’ve ever read.”

“Are you a writer or something?”

“No Mark, I am merely a horror connoisseur.” He emphasized his point with a wave of his stuffed stick. “That’s why I chose here above and beyond where Aspen wanted to go.”

“It’s also a valentine’s location.” He admitted, “Warmer than this.”

“You instead focus on things about the spirit like theft and stealery.”

“That’s not a word.”

“That’s besides the point, as a critic I’m allowed to invent words because I know how they work and how to break them.”

“What’s the definition then?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the definition of stealery then?” pressed Aspen.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s a little like burglary.” offered Ivorine. “Can I go on with my story then, only if you’re done with yours, Mark?”

“Use it in a sentence.”

“I just did!” retorted Ivorine.

“Share the sweets before you scoff them all and I’ll let you.” There was a scowl between the red dragon and orange hybrid the which resulted in the bag being tossed over the fire and then being torn into. “Alright, good choice of candy.”

“The minotaur was one of Greece’s most popular legends, said to be half-bull, half-human and stalked an infinite maze beneath the city. While it was there originally as a method of sacrifice to avert wrath or a plague, what it could also do was guard things that no one wanted found, and unimaginable treasure would await those who braved its depths and retrieved it.

Down here the stones themselves were covered in eternal damp. Lack of sunlight and water trickling in streams from level to level of this infernal labyrinth meant the sheen reflected darkness from other passageways and tricked the mind into believing there was a path when there was none. He, alone on his quest and interested in the treasure deep down there, stepped with silence about his toes. The sole inheritance would be all his without a partner to distract him and then falsely claim half his bounty. It was a spot where he had been burned before.

The problem was that all these corridors looked alike; dull, cream-coloured stone with entrances and exits to rooms that held nothing but more wall-mounted torches lit by some unknown means. A waste, an absolute waste they weren’t leading him deeper and deeper. He had not even heard the roars of the beast which trod these hallways and no doubt knew the pathways more accurately than he knew the route in his own home, it was said to be hundreds of years old with the magic of the Gods keeping it eternally hungry and long-lasting. Finding him would be nothing new and perhaps more interesting than the walls, he knew he would think the same if the roles were reversed.

Down. Here the sun had never reached with its tendrils of bright fire and never would even with assistance, and so the only light was that of the flickering torches stapled to the wall by which he navigated. He was effectively blind and he could not help subdue the subcurrent of fear which ran through him from rising to the surface. Sweat trickled across his brow even though the stone beneath his sandals was cold and droplets fell down his chest in a thousand separate races. Somehow his breathing seemed to affect more than it should; an exhale caused a flutter which raced down the hallway and echoed as though it were a hundred times louder. Perhaps it was just his imagination. But the minotaur would hear it if it was not and that only made him breathe faster. It was panting now, like a horse moving from a walk to a trot to a canter as time went on and on. What was the path of the sun above him? Was it morning only a few hours after he had gone in, or was it closing in to dusk and he had lost track of time wandering aimless and vulnerable.

He could never say he felt alone. In the same way that one can feel something just before their fingers close around it an object can be sensed, and in the same way you understand that the object does not disappear if you close your eyes or turn away you can say it still exists. Maybe he had heard it but his mind had put it out of his thoughts. Focus on the treasure, that enticing life-settling amount of gold, keep that in the forefront of your thoughts, he told himself. It must be here somewhere, it must be further down or closer to where the beast lay in wait. There could not be nothing, what would be the point of such a maze otherwise?

Down. Again. There were no torches down here and it was as dark as pitch. Fear rose in him and urged him to turn back away from invisible horror. How would you find something when you can’t even see it? Retreat, the myths were all falsehoods to trap you in here for its meal. His footsteps were nearly silent but with nothing for them to be muffled by they rung out in startlingly long echoes. He clung to the wall and stopped every few seconds to lean down and feel for that pile of gold coins, and each time he expected the clink to pass between his fingers. His breathing was rapid, an in-out in-out cycle which make him almost delirious. There must be no fresh air down here any more and it clogged his lungs. Oh how he wished to see the light and feel fresh air upon his face. There! His heart jumped. A flicker of amber in the darkness. He followed it, walked straight to the discs of gold with a smile on his face and happiness in his heart. The minotaur feasted.

“You got good towards the end otherwise I feel you’ve got a thing for describing architecture.” mused Mark.

“You can’t just jump straight into the horror,” Ivorine refuted, “you need some sort of build-up or else it’s just jumpscares!”

“I love jumpscares.” Aspen goaded and caught a fish on his hook.

“You, get lost! They’re one of the worst things out there, no tension, no spark, no creativity just a loud noise and something startling! That’s not horror that’s just cheap! Cheap! I can think of a hundred different things right now that scare me more, actually scare me instead of make me jump. Horror is all about knowing what’s going to happen but not knowing when.” Ivorine caught the fact he had been had far too late and let out an exasperated sigh when Aspen fell off his stool onto his back from laughter which had been building behind his hand.

“You’ll fall for anything.” He said from the padded down grass and lifted himself back up after it was obvious neither of them were capable or willing to help him.

“You think your story will be better, Aspen?” asked Mark who did not look entirely comfortable sitting there. He kept looking past the trees which surely only spooked him out further.

“Hang on, hang on, talk about mine a little!”

“You want to discuss your story Mr. Horror Critic? Like it’s a real movie or such?”

“Yeah yeah, talk about my themes and how they worked.” Ivorine almost begged.

“So, my story is more about the mental side of horror, there’s no real history happening here and,”

“Hold on a second! Don’t just change track on me like that!” But he had already forged on, and Ivorine was forced to return to his bag of marshmallows and after that a rattly plastic bag that he shook during Aspen’s story in a failed attempt to distract him.

“The setting and scenario don’t make all that much sense, I mean you wouldn’t be awake or even alive when they did this to you. But the imagination doesn’t care much for ‘what ifs’,” he continued, “in fact that’s its favourite topic, that’s where it’s truly unrestrained.” If there was a later he would smile at that little joke.

Can you imagine being alone yet surrounded? Being so close to someone that could physically reach out and touch them but some force prevents you from doing so? This was a nightmare I had once that still doesn’t sit right with me. I must have fallen asleep one night after coming home late and the Ancient Civilisations documentary was not enough to keep me awake. When my eyes did open it was to the pressure of my body feeling like it was caving in on itself.

“Third person.”

“Huh?”

“These things are in third person.”

His body felt as though it was being squeezed from all directions at the same time by something far more powerful than himself. His eyes flashed open and his jaw was set to drop in a loud cry of pain which he would have followed with an accusatory statement at a roommate, yet instead he found himself upon a stone plinth perhaps three feet tall and long enough to rest his whole body on with space for his ears and hooves. No cry came forth from him and only a small sound was heard, that of a weak whimpering grunt. He rocked from side to side to perhaps fall from his granite bed but as with his mouth there was no response from his body. An empty room shaped like a pyramid with its cap straightened off was all he could see through his eyes as they were the only thing which obeyed his commands. After looking down he found why.

His body was wrapped from head to hoof in so much linen that the shape of him resembled more of a rough formation than anything detailed much like a sculptor’s first pass. He could not see his arms folded across his chest yet he knew they were there beneath the fabric which was so tight against him that breathing was ragged and force had to be used to inhale anything more than a mouthful. It seemed to stretch too and as he inhaled it fit to him better than before until it was a losing battle heading in the direction of mere woven fibers. Panic set in as his bonds seemed to winch around him to hold his legs together and then around his neck until he had seemingly lost oxygen with which to fight with.

On the instant that he slumped back and tried to regain his breath there was movement ‘above’ him. His eyes flicked to it and figures paraded in a mournful march to either side of him. Four flanked him, two per side, and two more took positions by his head and hooves. They brought with them a sarcophagus so intricately detailed that it would have taken him the rest of his life to understand it all. It was opened next to him. His eyes bolted wide open as understanding dawned and his struggle begun almost the moment that it had faded. He was choked by the bondage which clung to him closer than air and could not stop their hands from reaching out to him. Four held him, one more pushed at his hooves and they worked together to feed him inside with care. He fought with the last vestiges of strength he possessed but the manipulation was beyond him and he disappeared first into the narrow coffin.

It was cramped, it must have been the wrong one, far too small as the sides pushed against him as he was nestled inside with external cries for help rendered into muffles sounds that his bearers did not listen to or perhaps ignored. He kicked, he swore, he wailed, but all power has its limits. The lid was another piece of solid granite and slid over the top with such a deep grinding that it must have weighed a ton, certainly all of them were needed to move it and they showed much more effort than they had with him. His ears filled with the scraping of stone and then a thud as it settled. Then all was dark and still. Air would fade soon enough and his consciousness with it. Just how long until it was over. Forever?

His listeners shivered. No cool breeze had wafted in from any direction and the fire had kept their extremities warm even if they had not been in thick socks. In the dark of the forest with flickering shadows distorting everything’s appearance their imagination ran wild and unchecked and what that tree could be was a hundred different things depending on how its bark wrinkled and catch patches of darkness.

“You make me not want to get into a sleeping bag.” mused Mark.

“It’ll be the last thing ever get into, wooo, scaaaary.” Aspen waved his hands as if casting some cheap incantation.

“Was not.” said Ivorine and dismissed it as easily as he dismissed a scrap of plastic which was torn from the next bag of marshmallows.

“You’ll get sick if you eat too many.”

“Who are you, my mom?” He stuck two in his mouth without even bothering to put them in the fire. The next few sentences were thus muffled. “A little twist on being buried alive and you even had the creepy cultists come in at the end so it’s not bad but you missed out the part where the guy was being mummified; I wanted to hear about the organ removal and then the bandages before you got going anywhere else.”

“Here, you have my stomach as well.” said Aspen.

“Can I have your pillows too? I forgot mine.”

“We’ll switch tents, mine’s far too small.”

“Speaking of tents,” interrupted Mark, “I’ll head to mine and then to bed.”

“Lightweight.” muttered Ivorine.

“I had to get up at five this morning because I have one of those things called a job!” He retorted. “I’m sleepy enough as is and if I hear any more stories then I won’t be able to get any rest!” He stood, said his goodnights, and disappeared into his tent. “And don’t you mumble about me, it’s so quiet I can still hear what you’re saying!”

“I said you own a cat!” Aspen called back.

“Are you challenging me, horse?” asked Ivorine who had crossed his arms and was looking particularly smug.

“A horror off? I wish I could say I’ll bring my best.”

“I think what you think of as the best is nothing but the most overripe tripe. C-tier! D-tier! It wouldn’t even be released on VHS.” They laughed and distributed a few more marshmallows between them, two-to-five. For a moment they were silent and merely listened. Far from the city limits and an hour from a small town there was none of the usual noise to greet them. Just the rustling of leaves overhead as a small gust of wind pushed the branches aside, a distant noise of a bird, and the crackling fire at their feet. This was nice. Ivorine could see why people chose to live away from the constant din of cars and horns and trains. He felt like he could breathe.

“Do you want to start?” He asked Aspen.

“I just went, you go first.”

“Alright, prepare yourself for the tale of the Lone Camper.”

“But but but, bathroom break.” Aspen spoke up before Ivorine could begin with a story that was most likely invented up on the spot, he stood from his little chair. He yawned and stretched, “when I’m back you’re going down, give me a sec.” He strolled away far enough that just a part of his body was visible against the noir shades of the forest as dancing shades of orange. Plastic crinkled, fire crackled, and horse tinkled.

“Catch!” called Ivorine as he flung a slightly molten marshmallow with decent accuracy across the dark distance. It splattered across the back of Aspen’s shirt as he was zipping up.

“Ahh, what the hell!” He reached behind him to touch the gooey mess.

“The trees are attacking, we’re in danger!” Ivorine laughed out. He would not lose this battle of fear to Aspen of all horses. Never missing a chance to show off Aspen slid his fingers beneath the lip of his shirt and practically tore it off in a single motion. The cool air breezed past him and he wished now that he had not been so hasty but this was a challenge and one that he would not lose. Any faults here would be a disadvantage later on.

Ivorine saw Aspen turn with that incessantly smug expression on his face as he would no doubt return to the campfire without a word just to infuriate his attempt at popping the bubble. It would, of course, turn it back on Ivorine himself. But it would be the last time that he would be gotten the better of. He noticed then that Aspen was not looking at him any more, and not in a sense of him glancing from side to side as if small things caught his attention which might have even been more damning, but instead he seemed to stare past him and had stopped in his tracks.

“You’re not going to get me with the oldest trick in the book, y’know?” dismissed Ivorine and he reached for another marshmallow only to find the bag empty. Drat, he thought, wasted the last one. It was when he heard a scream that Ivorine’s eyes shot back up. Yes, there was the horse with that same expression but he seemed to have disappeared like a magic trick; his legs were not visible and as Ivorine looked with curiosity the torso up to the chest vanished as well.

“What’s going on? Help!” cried Aspen as he toppled with added weight. No, he had not disappeared but something had instead blocked off parts of his body from sight. Now that it had been noticed it did not need to hide any longer. A trail of bone-white faded into view and started at whatever was around his neck and continued down in loops like a drop of ivory paint. Every few inches it branched out in a perpendicular line which tapered to a rounded point and seemed to curve around the shape of a cylinder. Streak after streak appeared out of nothing before it and seemed to continue on into the trees behind him.

He turned to follow where it went. The darkness of the forest swallowed up its path but he could still see the rough direction and he also understood in an instinctive way what exactly it was. For a while his mind was unable to truly comprehend it and the mere idea contested against his understanding. It couldn’t be that large, he thought and he was, of course, wrong. Though the trees had blocked it and his poor night vision had made anything more than a few feet from the edge of their campsite dropped into utter darkness Ivorine had figured it out. He felt the breath in his throat seize up and the pulse of his heart shift into double time. A sensation of instant panic settled in similar to the slow approach of deadlines at work when time is not kind, sweat would have trickled down the back of his neck if anything with scales biologically could. He trembled in the heat of the fire’s reach and although he wanted to stop himself from turning as though it could undo the reveal, momentum had took him far and his head could not send the information to his neck quick enough to stop. His violet pellets met the blazing amber globes of the monster.

“Help me!” cried out Aspen one last time as the tail had entirely encircled his lower body to the point of complete obscurity. His waist and chest were next to be taken into its hold with that ivory strip as the reminder that it was covering him in several loops that were evidently enough to engulf him. The monster stabilised him upright and he believed it was helping him for the shortest of moments, yet when it drew him across the ground towards its head he lost all hope for that. Both he and Ivorine saw its face at the same moment when the light which flickered from their camp caught beneath the jaw and the advancing wave of bone-white illuminated the skull. Were it not for the eyes, those eyes, then Ivorine would have sworn it was entirely skeletal. Well perhaps not, for Aspen was surely entangled with more than bone and the monster was looking directly at him with a tactile, blazing sensation. Its head was as long as he was down to his knees or, instead, up to his shoulders and perhaps the width of his arms outstretched to the elbows. It was not something he wished to test in person. The light also caught the black body which the fire reflected against between the pattern, though Ivorine was not looking at that any longer.

The thud of the gigantic serpent’s body across the tent which Mark had disappeared into, a sizably large impact enough to break the plastic struts with a cracking boom, should have made him immediately step back into his own tent. That would have meant breaking eye-contact.

“Mark!” Aspen cried out just before a coil of scale and muscle nestled around his throat and winched it shut to silence him with immediate and efficient results. His entire body was lost in the swirl of the snake until he was reduced to a head complete with bulging eyes and roaring mouth devoid of sound in a hold tight enough to threaten basic functions. Ivorine was not sure what help he could have honestly been as there was nothing in either tent which he could think of that would have been any assistance to them right now. Typical things like bear-spray would not work on something that had eyes like that, nor would anything in his backpack help their case of self-defense. A thought struck him out of the gold, what if it was just a wild animal and attacking it or screaming was just angering it? Yes, that seemed about right. Serpents did not usually fear direct eyesight and so if he kept looking then it would see that he posed no threat to it.

Aspen was hauled from where he had been first caught all the way towards its head. Up close it seemed even more stupendously sized than before and it could have been his perspective beneath it or it could have simply been that more poured in like a waterfall from behind the coils to secure the wrapping around him and continued long past the point where he was immobilised. Besides the loops constricting his body, two lengths trailed down in the same way a knuckle sits next to a clenched fist on either side of him, which would mean that he would need to push that away in addition to the rest, as the serpent had positioned its neck across the back of his head to force his throat against its topmost coil.

“Relax, horsey, it’s not here to harm us.” Ivorine said in a calm tone that was typically reserved for scratching behind a sleeping dog’s ear. Aspen and the serpent watched from almost the same spot as he stepped forward with what seemed to be a fading sense of fear. Not once did he even look across to see the straining expression positioned just beside from where his eyes never seemed to stray.

In Ivorine’s head he was still afraid of the snake. Yet as he continued to stare he found he was not as terrified of its particularly inviting eyes as the rest of it and in that moment realised that he was a stag standing in the middle of the road as the twin golden beams raked over him. The gaze was intimidating and unsettled him deep down in his bones. He shuddered. To escape that stare became a primary goal in his life that swept over him and became as important as the innate reaction to keep his head above water. But where could he run to from here? Back to the car and drive away with his companions left behind to the town to get help? Run through the forest towards a river or perhaps a cliff where it could not chase him. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. A voice thrummed through his head with the resonance and bass of a plucked bridge cable. He did not hear it directly through his ears but instead through his body as if the ground was a subwoofer.

You cannot run. The words wrote themselves on his ideals. Natural reactions rose and brought his muscles up to speed to let him dart away when it was required. He took a step. A slow invasion began to take hold in his head that turned instinctual behaviours against their owner; terror began to be turned down from its peak until the fear was no more than a buzz in his ear as a shadow of its former self, curiosity grew inverse to that and spawned thoughts and responses that he would never had thought himself indulging in. Somehow it had managed to open his memories up to see through them and what his traitorous thoughts had offered up was both a lens and newfound awe.

What Ivorine adored about horror movies was the creativity that went into designing and creating monsters that only had to look real after editing and skilled puppeteers had done their magic but here was a practical marvel. There was nothing piloting this and certainly no controls that he could see which directed it to capture his campmate and practically flatten another. Not even programming could do that. And what eyes it had been gifted with as once again he was taken back by how large they were. Dazzling, enveloping, they were each like a sun and since both were pointed right at him, he exhaled with heavy emphasis, was it the campfire that was blazing beside him? He could not sweat but he was internally assured that he was going to burn up if he stood beneath that gaze for too much longer. Ivorine needed out and he thought to turn his head away, but his neck was locked stock straight at the serpent when he tried.

“Do you see?” thrummed the serpent in private tone and public volume to the wheezing equine. “Forget the writhing for a time, save the strength - watch, as he seals himself to me~” Its tail-tip drew up the side of his head like a finger with the width of his forearm and possessed infinite more flexibility, before it settled above his brow with a trail between his eyes and down over his muzzle there to rest idle. The coils ensured he was looking forward at the scene as it played out before him. Ivorine had taken his comfortable hoodie off and seemed visibly more at ease for a fraction of a moment. "I dislike feeling under-dressed... and I assure you - it will be best for you to have as little as possible on, as well~".”

“What are you going to do to us?” whimpered Aspen as the muscular coils rendered him helpless.

“Keep watching.” It answered.

Ivorine believed it was impossible. After undressing he felt even warmer than before and that swelling sensation in his chest had not diminished. He exhaled again over the course of a few seconds and on top of that his head swam with pressure. Those eyes never blinked as they gazed right at him, and Ivorine believed that it could be nothing other than those amber globes that was causing this. He needed somewhere to go where he could not be seen yet he had been told he could not run with eternal pursuit becoming an eternal destiny. Where then can I escape to? Yes, that... that would be it.

His trousers came off next and last in a move that Ivorine would not have even done on a dare if either of them had asked him beforehand. His orange scales were close to the colour and warmth of the campfire with patches of grey hair on his head, chest, and groin with the latter continuing down a tail that was as long as he was tall and always kept out of trouble. There was only one place where those powerful eyes cannot see me. Ivorine stepped again and found himself within arms reach of the serpent’s tremendous head. He was looked down at along the dark-orange snout with prominent ivory highlights, which together created the jaw-dropping appearance of a skeletal snake.

Closer would lead to further. Aspen watched with stunned eyes as Ivorine neither stepped back or showed any signs of fear when the monstrous snake’s maw opened directly in front of his features. In fact, the expression on his face was more along the lines of happiness. Ivorine had won against the heat and the eyes for no longer did his body feel as though it was being immolated and the heavy pressure to keep up gazes had also dissipated the instant its maw had opened. But the damage had been done to him already; his ability to recognise danger was insignificant in the wake of the power which had been flowing throughout the air to him. Its tongue, which flowed like a river and was coloured like ink, spooled around his neck and anchored him in place. It did not use any of its body to bring him forward at least not of the outside, not yet.

Aspen had been standing upright for the most part, though not by his own will, but as the serpent lowered jaws which could have dwarfed the span of his arms he began to sink down to the grassy floor beneath and the coils of sheer muscle ceased only to constrict him though the serpent did not miss the opportunity to winch with progressively tighter bands of flexing muscle around him. Spots appeared in his vision from the lack of oxygen reaching his brain via lungs that could not expand. As such he did not see Ivorine’s last moments in the flesh, but more ivory appeared next to him.

The orange scales were damp and reflected the glow of the campfire with a shimmer like the refractions off a midday puddle. It was not sweat, and Ivorine had not doused himself in water to break the spell, but instead the snake was tasting him. Its tongue had practically bathed him as it scored along the line of his chin and then down his chest. Where it painted across him a trail of glossy saliva stayed to trace its path across his body and in a manner of seconds the single path was joined by a second and a third and a fourth until the balance of wet and dry shifted to favour the former. He exhaled once more. Around his face was the salmon shaded maw of the voracious predator now he had moved past those golden eyes, and any direction in which he wanted to look was the same except for directly ahead. [i]Further.[/i] Ivorine lifted himself onto his tiptoes as the mouth moved down his body until his head was funneled by the slick surface towards the entrance to the throat and the long internal dark where muscles would ferry food down with slow, deliberate pace. The snake exhaled and closed its maw around him. Ivorine’s world became dark and wet as the top and lower palette pressed together with a wet squish that had become musical to his ears.

He was pulled off his feet and lifted to a horizontal, elevated, position. The momentum slid him forward and Ivorine collided with the narrow entrance but did not enter just yet. His body still needed more tasting and resulted in the tongue sliding up and around his legs which were the only parts still exposed to the cool air. The heat of the mouth poured through him with the same throb and ache but a completely different burn than before. It was welcome this time. He invited it to engulf him, entirely and once the head tilted back and the throat opened, he was swallowed whole. From the wide space of the entire forest and the comfort of the fireplace to the narrow and weighty flesh which now surrounded him, Ivorine never felt so relaxed. It helped that the muscles were taking him deeper and deeper with each second that passed and with each new inch progressively controlling his movement with added efficiency until he was practically statuesque. His toes with dim purple claws on each one disappeared into the clenching depths of the snake’s throat and the jaws closed as an added obstacle if any on the outside were trying to retrieve him.

Aspen would have screamed one again from the sight that was approaching him from inside the serpent’s body had its tremendous strength not inflicted an all-encompassing crush to stop him from breathing with predatory efficiency. He could not even shift his leg or move his arm as the pressure sealed him inside a cocoon of flexing muscle. There were layers to its hold on him that would have made extraction nigh on impossible; two or more restraining lengths which looked wider across than Aspen’s shoulders, were pressed against the tall stack of scales and the capacious neck was perched above and behind his head. Once he began to slip down to the ground it became more than strength as the sheer weight of several coils were draped over him. They creaked as they held their next meal. Aspen believed that its neck would now move to smother his face and choke him out to make consumption that much easier, but that thought disappeared from his head and his mouth opened to cry out as a bone-white shape worked its way down the body and right over his eyes.

It was Ivorine! It had to be his body being pressed down the throat’s interior towards a far-off stomach. The snake was so large that he would usually have only made a small extruded shape in its body but something that it had done showed Aspen the skeleton as it was swallowed with near-deafening gulps. Aspen flinched as he noticed it and tried to pull his head away from the skull which descended in slow lunges towards him. He was prevented from even turning away as its coils restrained any sense of movement. In fact, the opposite happened to what he wanted; he was pushed and pulled closer until his face distorted from the shape of the first meal. Eyeless sockets stared back at him through the throat, muscle, and scales of the serpent and despite his terror Aspen could not look away. It was like looking forward in time since there was no doubt now in his mind that this would happen to him as well, it would happen to anyone who was found.

“I shan’t need to hold back as much... with you, do I?” whispered the serpent into his other ear. Aspen tensed immediately and was rewarded for his obvious reaction with another round of severe pressure.

Lylat Veteran's request for fullres

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Lylat Veteran's request for fullres

If any of you would like to have a full resolution version of one of my previously posted works, mention it in the Discord vip_lounge chat (Adherent tier, and above)

Lylat Veteran's request for fullres

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Onto a queen-sized bed

And no, those are not my glasses~

I simply wanted to make a pinup of myself for someone, but boy, this one came out good, this may not stay private to Patreon

The full resolution version of the birthday gift for Shoji, that I forgot to post in in advance, with no speech bubbles in the way

The full resolution version of the birthday gift for Shoji, that I forgot to post in in advance

A Halloween themed YCH auction - nighttime, campsite, 3 campers, 1 extra spooky giant snake

Coming 19th or 20th October (tomorrow, or the day after)

For one of my Keeper patrons

Scorn is the name of the krogan, the name of furaffinity is microphone

100USD total pledge piece is complete

100USD total pledge piece is complete

(A colored sketch for Solidness/JimmyRuss)

I wished I had not said it. It was clear from the moment in which the words left my mouth that there was only one pathway from here on. Just a slip of the tongue had been enough to secure my fate and ensure my lack of personal freedom for the near future. I had even invited it upon myself, how foolish, in the name of charity and an attempt to find some common ground between myself and my mistress solely so I could see her more often. After crawling free one day, I had offered Sheraht a look around the gym that I frequented with the intention that her already strong frame could become more tuned.

“Do you wanna come join me tomorrow? I’ve got a free pass for it that you can use, nah it won’t be a problem.” I had asked. And when she had met me there she had also asked one question.

I exhaled. Warm air reflected back off the shiny and smooth surface of Sheraht’s tremendous hindpaw which was positioned so close to me that, if the light was not blocked otherwise, I would have been able to spot my own reflection in the toe which I had laid my affection upon eagerly. Sheraht kept one of her hindpaws pressed against me so powerfully that I never touched the ground while her toes, three per paw and each thicker than my torso, clenched and relaxed around my upper body. One smothered my face into its surface, one passed over my arm and shoulder, across my chest and then clamped beside my neck, and the latter was in my arms after she encouraged me to hold it against my stomach. Sheraht ensured the toes were never still so I never got used to their alternating pattern of smothering my face while allowing my chest to expand then switching so I wheezed out what I had drawn in.

“Are you regretting your generosity yet?” mused Sheraht.

Her other paw was responsible for making sure my legs did not kick out and I was sufficiently pleased by her presence. One of my legs was resting high, the other was trapped beneath a toe and lifted by its neighbour so my struggling motions were evident to her. Sheraht watched as my face progressed from peach to beetroot and grew more and more tinged with each switch back and forth. How restrained she acted when I practically felt sick around her; tight chest, short breaths, hot flush, pounding heartbeat. Why? I could not tell either, but perhaps this had something to do with it.

This was only the first exercise I had planned for her; calf push, unweighted, hold for thirty seconds, rest for thirty seconds, ten sets. Deep in my mind where I was not focusing on adding shine to her digits was the rest of today’s workout routine and the worst part is that I had penned it all myself, everything today was destruction at my own hand. Sheraht had admittedly thrown me a curveball before had even started with myself being asked to help dress her in the dark brown bodysuit as it would be so very very difficult without my assistance. I was not expecting her to lead me into an evidently small changing room and have me grab the lip with both hands and pull the skin-tight fabric over every single inch and nook and cranny of her body. I am already familiar with most of them but in the smooth fabric they seem to take on a new light, and it was only luck that kept me from being trapped between it and some bodyparts.

Perhaps my understanding of time had disappeared as I was sure that the constant hold, which was intended to exhaust the muscle, was persisting for more than a minute or even two at times, and the rest periods in between might have been enough for a handful of deep gulping breaths before the paws returned to pushing me. I had lost my clothes somehow in the furor that had occurred half an hour ago and been next to naked with only a pair of underwear ever since. Modesty hiding they were not, though I could rely on Sheraht’s hindpaw or toe covering it up any time. Against her stark marble shade, my vibrant shade was likely, and undeniably, obvious.

“I don’t feel the effects just yet, would you mind if I kept at it until I felt that burn?” Sheraht asked in an innocent tone. We were alone, at this time of night there were so few people that the extra rooms, as large as a classroom but empty of desks, were devoid of scheduled bookings until the early morning. We had hours. I had hours in front of me. “Or, if you prefer we can move onto the next one. Just so you know I do have two sets of wrists to work on.” I could see in short glimpses between the toes that she had her forepaws ready and waiting, visible against her dark skin and the bodysuit ending in a lip at the base of her hand.

I would not have this any other way.

No topic or date yet, but recent PC upgrades have set me back a good bit, and I will be looking to recoup it in this coming month

A colored sketch for Tacokurt

Champion tier commission, Achiga and GreenSneky

For a pet about to be hidden into the coils for the night~

Working on the vore ones, among others

https://picarto.tv/Inkanyamba/0ac9e895a9df74eb50e4924f73f55521

Flat colors, as well shading1 and highlight1 are done on both halves

The work on this is slow, much gets in the way, but it is underway

Shoji being out where he belongs - below a snake's underbelly

WIP on the Inkanyamba Home Invasions piece, and two Kaa Telegram stickers.

Recording available, use the link, scroll down, and find the "recordings" tab below to view.

A little something between Tacokurt and Sheraht

I encourage you imagining yourself in the anon's position~

Working on the 100USD total pledge reward (Inkanyamba Home Invasion), and perhaps sneak peeks at Kaa stickers. I will be using new techniques for these pieces, and the stream may not run for too long.

While we are at it, here is another series of sketches that has been made a while ago

The last page made, never made it past sketch here. The mammal here is being undressed and threatened

He was a Hunter. His prey was tracked with ease across the distances that would be undertaken by most people over several days and on rare occasions, weeks. What they left behind as evidence of movement was slight enough to be mistaken as a natural part of the environment; the blind and foolish would ignore felled trees if they could manufacture an excuse to be home for dinner in time. Not here. A hundred miles from the reach of civilisation in a part of the world inhabited once by people now long forgotten. Their structures still stood as evidence of existence but the stone was losing the fight to keep its colour, and nearly all was green now.

There was a rumble as he stepped past the line of trees and into the gentle down and up of a shallow basin. Nothing he could see had the ability to make that level of sound, not the trees or the birds or the kelbi which trotted and bounced around in patterns that he felt were quite natural, if they were spooked then he would be ready for a fight. He did notice that nothing ventured past the line of trees for more than a few steps and internally it triggered a little flag which said to be cautious. His quarry was huge and, as he could not see it in the bowled landscape, he was put to a slight ease which was helped by what he could gaze upon and the breeze which sounded sweet through the trees.

Then he stopped. In the middle of the open was something that did not look like grass, it was far too blue for that and stood out amongst the emerald swathe the longer he looked and the closer he cautiously approached. It was the surest sign of his capability that he had managed to stay on its trail after this long, for the wedge that stuck out from the earth was a discarded scale, perhaps three feet tall by two across with a teardrop shape which was helpful for movement. And beneath it he saw a circular hole that first looked like a shadow.

“It must have come off when it buried itself.” mused Auviere and stayed a little away out of common sense. The Najarala he was hunting was something from a legend, though with the abundance of Monsters roaming it was not difficult to believe that such a serpent could exist; close to fifty feet in length and with a body as wide as his chest was off the ground it had proven to be plenty dangerous in the past.

Another rumble. This one came from behind him, it was a lure! The scale was there to draw him closer and then it would attack from behind when he would be too busy focusing on the hole that was an obvious distraction. Auviere spun and unsheathed a weapon whose size was ridiculous but necessary; the tool must match the task in mind. He raised it above his head so when the Monster would burst out from the ground he would already be ready to strike it between the eyes. Fake hole, what a trick, but Hunters must be a step ahead of their hunts. ‘Fake’ indeed, Auviere had been wise not to lean over the edge like an amateur for it had waited to snatch him if the silhouette of a helmet and set of pauldrons had broken the blue disk of sky. Instead, the Najarala opted for its second plan.

The scale was not only there as decoration to lead its pursuer into close proximity, but was also angled in such a way that it could take advantage of an ability Auviere had not seen. From its mouth burst a ball of water which ricocheted off the angled scale and struck him in the back with a force that made him believe a giant hammer had been wielded by a giant. The misdirection had stunned him and for a few seconds he was merely trying to recover as the rumbling of movement begun immediately after a cry had left his lips. Auviere found his senses with his face now pressed into the soft earth of the innocent meadow. That blast must have knocked him clean into the air and made him sprawl helplessly as a result. Where was his weapon? He looked over his shoulder to find it where he had been, between where he was now and the blue scale.

Auviere threw himself into a reverse roll and returned to his feet with practised agility. One foot down at ninety degrees began to turn him around to face it again. He would have made the second step, where he would have been running towards the scale, had the Najarala not managed to slide out of the hole it had created with terrifying speed in the time since he had taken his eyes off the weapon. He noticed far too late that he had run directly into the underside of its neck and that all his momentum had stopped in an instant. Not true serpents, the Najarala reached out with a forelimb and brushed him off. He fell back with a second round of dazing surprise that follows when one runs facefirst into a wall.

But instead of landing on soft earth, the Monster had begun what nature had designed it to do. It hauled the grinding weight of its long body from under the earth and encircled him in a cage of its own coils. Auviere landed on a ridge of serpentine flesh as tall as his hips and once again sprawled out backwards, this time facing upwards, and had he been quick enough then he would have been able to flip over and been free. But a millisecond of delay found another loop slide in behind him and prop him up to stare at the rocky surface of his hunt; a Tidal Najarala. It hung over him in the same way a outcrop of a mountain watches over the valley, with a careful pair of eyes that could not have been mistaken for any unintelligent prey. Maybe he could punch it? A blow aimed at its chin would disorient it enough to slither off his weapon and then a real fight could begin.

In the instant that Auviere rocked forward with his abdominal muscles to stand up, the Najarala reached out with one of its front legs and slammed down its hand over his body. He wheezed as it drove him back down onto its body and left the hand there to pin him with as much effort as Auviere would have put into stabilising a hunk of meat to cut for cooking out while he was camping. It probably weighed a hundred pounds or two just by a fact of its width, more than his shoulders, and depth, shoulder to elbow, even ignoring the force going through its arm and the weight that it added by leaning on him while doing so. The Najarala’s digits were each as thick as his leg and trapped his left arm between them while isolating his head from the rest of his body. Such a predator was adept at choking its victims to mortal asphyxiation regardless of whether it was its crushing coils or the grip of a single hand.

Auviere reached with his free right hand around the digit that lay over his throat and attempted to lift the whole thing off by tearing it away. All the Najarala had to do was flex in the same way as anyone would press a button and the attempt was quashed. Its scales were not rough enough for any grip to be gained by its own prey, but in just a few minutes it would not wish to be freed. For now, Auviere could think of nothing else. This was humiliating to be disarmed and bound this swiftly and he was thankful of the remote location that no audience would be witness this, it would be a more biased tale that promoted himself once he could escape. But the Najarala was leaning down closer to him than before with hunger in its eyes of piercing blue. If only these fingers were not over his throat and chest!

The sclera and onyx-black slit of its pupil came close enough that Auviere saw his reflection in the glint. His expression showed the person beneath the bravado; he looked afraid in that mirror. Fighting to remove the finger was a task made and performed in futility, and with it being this close he could swing his arm and catch the scaled cheek with the side of his fist. It might give the Monster a little jolt, and any advantage he could win at this point was a victory. Only one, as it would rear back to prevent any further resistance if he missed.

“Release me you scaly terror!” wheezed Auviere with some of the air that remained in his lungs. The weakness of his wheeze was a startling reminder at how much he had almost lost already. He must have been operating on pure adrenaline at this point for each word had a strained syllable that took too long to enunciate.

Auviere must have been seeing things from the oxygen deprivation. He rationalised the fact that the azure shade of the Monster’s eye had begun to shift to that although he could not explain why the equally-blue sky behind it and the purple shade of its face were not doing the same thing. It must be a ‘from the centre to the edge’ kind of blacking out. The longer he looked, and with its proximity there were not many other places he could, the stranger the colours became; starting from its usual blue and descending in brightness until it was the shade of the ocean far from land, a rich cerulean that carried the glint of reflected sunlight with it.

“How did its eyes do that?” wondered Auviere with a transfixed gaze. This was not something he had read or heard about them before, did they all have this ability?

The sun descended on the midday hue of its eyes and the ruby shine of the late afternoon light blended to create a vibrant purple. It dripped in from the lowest point of the eye and filled up in swirls just like a glass being filled by an unsteady barmaid. What a transition! It would have been stunning to merely know about it from the description of a book, but to actually see the sclera shift colours at such a pace with such vibrance. Auviere’s grip loosened on the finger that held him down. With each change he felt the shift inside him away from hunting behaviours and he found that it seeped away with little resistance and smaller regret. Why fight for it when the next colour was coming?

Auviere was not disappointed when it arrived, as the bright gold that made the lustre of metal and coin look dull shone through his eyes and beyond into his mind. It was an eclipse he could stare at. Although his mind seemed to have fallen already with a miniscule portion of the Najarala’s ability, his body knew the danger it was in and acted appropriately. Auviere thrashed beneath the palm in effort to throw it of his chest and legs. His left arm wriggled between the digits that caught it in weak resistance in a way that only burnt through the lungs’ pitiful store of remaining air. And that only flung him deeper into a state of hallucination.

From its eyes came a stream like dust caught in a beam of sunlight. Particles floated from it across to its prey and became a fine mist where each individual droplet reflected the colours in a kaleidoscope on their way through him. The eyes returned to the blue of the sky and a looping pattern formed with no colour gaining monopoly of the dynamic sclera for more than a blink, though Auviere did not so he would not miss a thing. This time the flickering atoms of water made him tilt his head back as if his neck became too weak to hold it up. It poured over him and his mind, with each change of shade came a relief like an addict getting their fix. It was a rush that tingled warm down his spine and weakened the muscles that resisted with each shift. Auviere smiled between the digits.

What was his weapon? The idea sparked in his mind for a moment before being washed away. That hulking hammer had served him well in the past, but what was a weapon if it could be disarmed, nothing more than a stick and a rock when it came down to it. This was a real weapon, a wonderful device capable of reducing enemies to gaping statues with no violence and no fallout. The Najarala could not be disarmed like he was, and all it took was a long gaze at something honestly beautiful. Then the thought was gone; whisked away over the edge of a canyon like a leaf upon the breeze.

The hand lifted from his chest in a gracious gesture of trust or, more accurately, understanding. Auviere wheezed and then gasped in air with large, gulping breaths. He had not realised how on fire his body was until it was quenched by the quick inhale and exhale of air. Not once did any oxygen touch his mind and free it from the blanket trance that lay over it, that was left transfixed with total assurance that more would come if it was wanted.

Auviere craved. There was something left like an empty space in his mind, as though someone had reorganised furniture with everything a few paces from the wall. There was one more thing to do and he just could not focus on it. Was it what he was supposed to be doing? For sometime he lay on the coil attempting to think but not even managing to keep a solid track of thought. The colours had stripped away the capacity to string two ideas together and call it a sentence. It was only when the Najarala brushed the tip of its mouth against his cheek and then opened wide to show off the pink and fuchsia tones of internal flesh. Its tongue reached down and dragged along his neck until it reached the chin.

The jaws closed around his head while the serpent’s body started to encircle him. Auviere was lifted from prone and into an upright position where his hoof and paw dangled off the earth. Two loops of the great Monster’s body clenched into position and held the Hunter in place with gentle applications of its sheer strength. He wheezed as the creaking plates of rock on the outside of the rings sounded off. With a winding squeeze, the Najarala began to feast.

His head was first to be witness to its depths, pushed past the beak and the mouth directly into the throat that parted around his features. Saliva stuck to the fur of his face and if it was not fixed in place then the compression of the muscles pulling him deeper would keep it there. That strength pulled his face this way and that beneath their power, and formed it into grimaces and grins which changed every few feet and continued all the way down. His shoulders did not deter the serpent, even though they sit as the girthiest point on the body, and it gulped them down faster than its own coils could offer him up. The chest went in widthways and was guided by the tongue that lapped across the fur into the centre of the maw. It did not need to chew him, the muscles of its throat would knead him into soft dough and then past that to be absorbed and then reused for additional strength to fight the next Hunter.

Auviere closed his eyes and let the imprint of the colours swim inside his head. The streaks and swirls looked burnt into his eyes as if he had stared into the sun and the blaze stayed with him. That comforted him, that the wonder was following him all the way down. If it was here then nothing could be bad, yes that sounded right. It sounded a lot better than the background noise of his mind that told him the opposite, he would listen to the colours; they made more sense, he liked what they said more.

Waist, hips, legs, feet, snap, and gone. The Najarala swallowed with a gulp that pushed Auviere into flesh that almost defied him entry, but he was the weakest part of the three components, and thus bore the weight of the flesh that squeezed him. It settled back onto the meadow that was free of humanity once again. Nature had claimed the past settlement in ancient time, and it ensured sanctity would continue. Tidal Najarala’s are not typically found far from the ocean, and after a few weeks of pursuit was now far from its home. It considered the feast of Hunter as a blessing; enough energy to make it here and back with some excess, but it could not get that from its meal by trekking already. It was tired, some time beneath the warmth of the sun to aid digestion would work a treat.

Rightfully assured it would face no more attacks, the Najarala curled up over itself and began to rest. Its meal would never cry or whimper or beg to be let out, it would just marvel at the luminance all the way down. Muscles and rings of strength would knead it time and time and time and time and time...

Story by solidness on FA

The second page, last one to be finished fully. Here I am being... judgmental, toward his mammalian reaction under the belt~

One of the partons in the Discord chat got a plushie recently, and I was in a plushie mood~

Shading and highlighting the $100 patron's picture

This comic has been commissioned by a pet whom I love dearly almost 3 years ago now, but the work on it was interrupted by some pretty drastic changes I would rather keep private. Much has changed since it started, between us, and in both our lives - it would not feel right at all to continue this comic now, even without considering that my style has changed significantly since.

This is the first page out of two fully completed, with the third one left in a rough draft stage.

Also, a panel from this page - the 7th one specifically - is the source of my user icon on many sites.

Lining and coloring the Champion tier patron's commission

No advance warning this time, but the recording will be available afterward:

https://picarto.tv/Inkanyamba/a98757175c01fdd86d30c8386ed97dd8

Access to VIP Discord chatroom, where Inkanyamba is more active, also includes the access to the roleplay chatroom; additionally, the VIP chatroom will enjoy access to occasional private roleplay logs of Inkanyamba's toying with and making use of mammals at her leisure~

The chosen scene, with 41% vote is, Inkanyamba's Home Invasion: Inkanyamba biting a shocked character's shoulder in their room, and piling her coils onto it; Inkanyamba constricting the kicking and thrashing character in her coils, her maw looming over them.

The chosen prey, with 11 votes is, Furry male.

As voting for exact character is unrealistic, the character will be up to my discretion.

The resulting two full-color images will be made available to public the next month, but will be posted to patrons as soon as they are complete; the creation process after the preliminary drafting and sketching will be livestreamed for all patrons, with recordings available afterward.

Well, fullres. Such as it is.

The first tier for total pledges has been reached - now, every patron gets a vote in what two-image full-color sequence I create for it, as well as write a short story to accompany it.

The winner of the first poll, at 41%, with 22 votes cast out of 26 patrons, is Inkanyamba's Home Invasion (Inkanyamba biting a shocked character's shoulder in their room, and piling her coils onto it; Inkanyamba constricting the kicking and thrashing character in her coils, her maw looming over them.)

Now please choose the type of prey:

The first tier for total pledges has been reached - now, every patron gets a vote in what two-image full-color sequence I create for it, as well as write a short story to accompany it.

Options for your consideration:

Kaa's Jungle: Kaa coiling and and hypnotizing a weakly resisting character; Kaa sleeping on a branch, his prey in a bulge hammock beneath him, internal shot of deeply hypnotized, blissful character. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19139463/

Inkanyamba's Home Invasion: Inkanyamba biting a shocked character's shoulder in their room, and piling her coils onto it; Inkanyamba constricting the kicking and thrashing character in her coils, her maw looming over them. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19473367/

Sol's Prey: character constricted in Sol's coils, the serpent licking their terrified face with malice as he approaches to penetrate them; Sol climaxes into his prey, his coils corkscrewing around its body with creaks and cracks and he stretches his jaws over its head. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/20460241/

Jajuka's Seduction: Jajuka snuggling himself onto a blissfully hypnotized character, groping them between the legs with his tail; Jajuka swallowing his prey, midway into his throat as it climaxes into his coils. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/22945637/

Sheraht's Worship: Sheraht laying down relaxedly on her side, the character kissing and massaging her heavy paws and digits; Sheraht grinding her huge shaft down on the character under her and climaxing as their head is cradled in her forepaw. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/20085355/

Plantera's Kiss: character willingly holding and kissing the piranha plants around them as they kiss back, around the head, and swallowing their limbs; the character is on the giant bulb's tongue, their legs swallowed by smaller bulbs outside, climaxing into another's lips. Character reference: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/21399085/

A colored panel from a short private sketch comic for Tacokurt, the high resolution of his currently used avatar

A little sketch sequence of Moka interacting with Jajuka. The source of Taco's current avatar.

Actually, also the last peice of Mokadu drawn with his "old" design.

Look and see all the imperfections of the 100% resolution~

Shaded Moka in a piece for a friend with a wrong light source, had to re-do it - but, turns out, exporting both of these shading layers together makes for a pretty cool statuesque bun

Commission for Greenwing

The naga is Liara, by Microphone

The basilisk lizard is Vinn, by Greenwing

Commission for Greenwing

The naga is Liara, by Microphone

The basilisk lizard is Vinn, by Greenwing

My first upload on FA, before making Pythonic Privacy, was "Evening on a beach", a short comic with Mokadu and Sheraht: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/12365026/

It only went for 5 pages before I moved on, but I did sketch out a sixth, and here it is

Shading 2nd page of comic commission for Greenwing

https://picarto.tv/Inkanyamba/5311198dbe7e60965caa1ae21dc67037

Sunday stream fell through due to technical difficulties - now all should be in order. Tomorrow, at around the time of this post, I will stream some shading work on my current comic commission on Picarto, and the private link to the stream will be posted here.

Will try and stream alongside Tacokurt tomorrow morning (16th July) as a test run, shading a comic page commission.

A birthday gift for adouro - the sketches in the upper part is the art I did not have the time to finish, and will not post publicly

A commission for solidness, a part of a series of commissions from several artists, awaiting the other parts before publishing. Featuring Serrera on top, Nala below, and Aspen in the middle.