Escape of the Schlange

Each time A'zam recovered consciousness, the sounds of ultimate taking on the deck behind him and the twitching of the Schlange's tongues inside his ball sac and his gut shot home the hopelessness of the situation once more. It was only when he lifted his face to the heavens and spied the steady presence and blowing of the White Furies that he was able to manage a fleeting smile and gain once again some purpose to his waning life. But then, each time, he felt the stirring of the flicking tongues inside him, the gripping and pulsating of the tongue around his testicles, and the awakening and thickening of the cock deep inside his intestines, and he began to writhe again in a maddenly short resistance that, in spite of his every desire, morphed into waves and waves of heightened arousal and passion and crying out for what only the Schlange was able to give him—what no human could ever give him if he somehow survived this trial—and the draining of his vitality and life fluid, drawing him closer in each fucking to the end of his existence.

The sky was darkening, the atmosphere was heavy with moisture, and thunder was rolling in the near distance, the sound of rolling thunder that only A'zam knew was not really thunder, as A'zam was coming into season again. He knew now what he must do, what only he could do—in aid of is favoring winds, the White Furies. As the Schlange began the rhythm of another invasion, A'zam bent his mouth down to that green, ugly-handsome face of the Schlange's body laced between his legs and lying on the jutting prow and looking up along the line of A'zam's body, and he kissed the monster on the cheek. Surprised and aroused in a new way, the Schlange moved its mouth tongue away from A'zam's cock and lifted its chest up to A'zam's, rubbing bare, hard-muscled chest to bare, hard-muscled chest. A'zam murmured that he wanted to embrace his lover, that he loved the Schlange deeply and wanted to be able to reciprocate that love.

Intrigued and aroused in a new way, the Schlange slit A'zam's arm bonds, and the two embraced closely. A'zam kissed the Schlange full on the mouth and allowed the Schlange's mouth cock to enter his mouth cavity and caress his inner cheeks. All of the time the Schlange's nether cock was pulsating inside A'zam's ass channel. But now, the sexual congruous was changing. Now the Schlange's cock was beginning to slow pump A'zam's channel and A'zam's hips were answering in a rhythm that was more of a normal fuck than the Schlange had ever experienced with one of its victims before. The sensation was exhilarating and arousing for the monster in a completely new way. A'zam's mouth was in the hollow of the Schlange's neck and moved to its chest, and the Schlange had the first sensation ever of lips and teeth coaxing its nipples to erection. The beautiful young man was making love to the Schlange—and at the same time A'zam was totally distracting the monster's attention from anything else happening around it. In another first in its ages-long life, a tear appeared at the corner of the Schlange's eye and rolled down its flat cheek, and for the first time it contemplated the handsome young human as a lover rather than sustenance.

The Schlange was lost to the lovemaking now, no longer fully in control—which was unfortunate beyond its wildest imagining—just as the brave but lost A'zam had planned as a panicked "must be" when he realized that all else was lost—that he never could go back now even if given the opportunity.

The satyrs were the first to notice, but it was upon them before they could warn the Schlange. The roaring A'zam had heard was not near-distant thunder. It was the much more present signal of the edge of the maelstrom—the vortex, the whirlpool—protecting the entrance between the Kalpe and the Abyla, opening the inland sea out into the greater world. And the navigator had set the black ship to sail directly into the center of it rather than in the secret channel around it, powered by the breath of the White Furies.

Thanks to the White Furies, which the Schlange, in the effort to satisfy its own needs, had not noticed, the black ship had found the maelstrom much earlier than anticipated.

A'zam, the navigator, raised his weary face, and in the last gasp of his strengthen, he pushed the Schlange way from him, the monster releasing its grip on A'zam's belly in its surprise and consternation, out beyond the prow of the ship into the center of the vortex, as A'zam lifted his face to the White Furies and keened his appreciation for deliverance. And then the boiling waters engulfed him, cleansing his wounded, badly used body, as the black ship, and all of the lost souls aboard spun down into the center of the abyss, following the Schlange down, down, down to the center of the reentombing earth.