Lydia slept deep and long, tangled in a labyrinth of silk and gauze and scales. Only once she awoke many hours later did she realize what he had done. He left her enough wiggle room to stay comfortable, but she was well and truly trapped. A tube of solid muscle had squirmed between her legs, pushed up her slip, and wrapped fully around one thigh. The giant serpent extended up and around the curve of her hip, circling around her middle twice. He was so large, he overflowed from the strained borders of the coffin, hanging off the edge and sliding toward the ground. She couldn't even really feel the mattress anymore, too much of him beneath her to allow her to make contact.
It took Lydia a moment to remember where she was, to swallow a scream at the realization of what‒ who‒ was wrapped around her. It wouldn't do to wake him. The candles had burnt out, leaving the room entirely encompassed by dark. Once her sudden panic calmed, she could allow herself to appreciate the surreal quiet of the moment.
She was in the land of the dead, married, and missing for all intents and purposes to the living world. To make matters more pressing, her bossy supernatural husband had slipped into bed with her last night under the guise of the same beast he used to almost kill her father. Even more strange, her scaly trap never stopped moving, the smooth, foreign shell expanding and decompressing around her ever so slowly and evenly‒ as if he was breathing.
"B…?" She hushed when being alone with her thoughts became too much, squirming like a trapped little mouse. "I… This is weird… Are you awake…?"
Her squirming woke him slowly, along with the smell of her fear. Betelgeuse was sensitive in this form, acute senses devouring every movement and noise she made. His instincts flared. Coils shifted tighter around her, his eyes slitting and mouth opening in a hiss. A long tongue flickered out towards Lydia, reading her deliciously hot body‒ the heat of life, of prey‒ and the scent that clung to her. Once Betelgeuse recognized that she was his wife, his Lydia, the pressure around her fragile body lessened. His little porcelain doll… he couldn't break her just yet.
With a heavy head, Betelgeuse manipulated the girl with his undulating muscles, bringing her up to where his chest would be in his human form. Though he imitated her breathing whilst they slept, the thundering of a heart was missing in his chest. There was no lack of reminder for Lydia that he was well and truly dead.
"Mornin'," he hissed, tongue curling under her chin. Her scent was strong there, in the soft skin behind her ears and down towards her collarbone. He breathed it in greedily.
"How'sss thisss weird? You like sssnakesss."
He was quick to remind her that she didn't seem exactly comfortable with him as a man, the fact having solidified itself in his mind when he thought over the previous day. Perhaps she would reassure him after this, tell him she liked him in all forms. He doubted it, though. Betelgeuse's large head rubbed against her back, his hair a wild mess that tickled her skin. With a shake of his rattle tipped tail, candlelight flooded the crypt, illuminating his pale wife and how gargantuan he was compared to her.
"You're like a tiny moussse, Lydsss. Could eat you up," he laughed, mouth opening and venom tipped fangs showing as he chuckled at her expense.
In seconds, he had her maneuvered into the center of a thick stack of coils, like a precious egg in need of protection rather than prey meant for devouring. The change was minute but did wonders for her nerves. With a semblance of personal space now, light aiding her vision, she took him in. He was enormous… but beautiful. His scales were sleek and dark, reflecting the red and orange glow from the various candles speckled around the room.
Unthinkingly, she dared to reach out and touch them‒ the way she would on any snake offering its friendship‒ only to snap her palm back as soon as it made contact when she realized what she was doing. They were smooth and cold. His head was just as she remembered; thrice as large as hers, disfigured monstrously, and vaguely resembling the man within.
His motivations here were highly suspect, but he was right. Perversely maybe, she was more comfortable with him like this. Ninety-nine percent of the experiences Lydia had with snakes in her lifetime were positive... and here he was. The other one percent. But… he wouldn't kill her. Would he? No, he was just teasing. He could tell how out of her element she was and was capitalizing on it for the sake of a laugh.
"You said I could go home now."
It was foolish of her to remind him of his flimsy obligation when she was in such a vulnerable position, but whatever was going to happen was going to happen, no matter what she said or did. His mind was already made up.
"After rest and eating. I did that. Can I go home now?"
Betelgeuse let out a rasping laugh as he squeezed her gently, enjoying the feel of her in his coils. Her tiny hand met his scales for a second and then the delicate digits were yanked away a moment after they made contact.
"You can touch, Lydsss. I won't eat ya," he promised with a sweet grin on his face. When she reminded him of his agreement with her, the poltergeist sighed. He didn't want to leave the comfort of his crypt and didn't want to be rid of her just yet. No matter what she said, he knew he would end up being separated from his new wife by her parents, or by her stupid all-girls school.
Betelgeuse let her climb out of the coffin, scales melting and turning to his normal attire and form. On two legs he followed her, his arms wrapping tight around her hips.
"I dunno if ya can go home. Wanna keep you here forever. Plus we gotta consummate the marriage… ain't real till we do that," he sighed against her hair. His hands wandered and he caught their reflections in the mirror. Her slip was rucked up smooth, cream-colored thighs, and he grasped a handful of her flesh with a smirk. The other hand teased along the shoulder strap, tugging it down one wispy arm.
"I need a kiss for incentive."
Betelgeuse was pushing every button he could find, trying with an edge of desperation to make her stay.
"Just a kiss, baby, n' I'll take ya home," he purred. The poltergeist spun her in his arms, dipping the girl in a cheesy attempt at romance. His fingers dug into her back as he leaned down for a kiss, taking it before she could voice her permission. She had to learn, after all, that her husband had needs, and they had to be fulfilled.
Lydia was barely free for scant moments before he had her captured again in strong, male human arms. It was simultaneously far too familiar and far too foreign. Just like that, she was back to the rigid, frightful thing he met in the forest, one wrong move away from either making a run for the hills or throwing slugs. The decision was made for her when he whirled her around and dipped low, grimy lips descending to steal a kiss.
This is what took the lights out of her last time when she passed out in his arms at the wedding altar. At least she was awake for this one. His lips themselves were rough, but he used them to ply gently at hers, wasting no time in introducing his too-long, overly enthusiastic tongue to the equation.
She lost it. No longer in control of her functions, it happened before she realized what she was doing and could stop herself.
It was a good, hard, stinging one, the palm of her tiny hand hitting him square in his chubby, stubbly cheek. Oh no. In the moments that followed, Lydia took advantage of his momentary stupor to scramble out of his arms and several feet out of reach; breaths fast and sharp, eyes wild. That was so fucking stupid. She was on his good side! He was being so nice to her! Why did she have to go and fuck it up so royally?!
The little bleating apology came out so frustratingly genuine. Once more, she had gone against her word to him, and once more, all she had in her arsenal of excuses were inadequate apologies.
"I didn't mean it."
"I just‒ I‒ I‒" Caught in an embarrassing loop of stutters, it appeared she might be dangerously close to shedding tears.
"I don't think I can."
Betelgeuse was shocked when she smacked him. It was the very last thing he expected of her, and it was shocking how hard she had gotten him. His cheek stung, almost more than his pride. The fuck was wrong with her? The first kiss, he could brush off as nerves, but this? This was bullshit. She had no reason to react like that, and he was pissed. Her little apologies didn't sound in his ears, didn't register in his brain. He stalked forward, backing Lydia up against one of the walls. The poltergeist didn't touch her, though, only ranged above her like an angry father‒ or, in his mind, an angry god.
"What the fuck, Lydia? The fuck is yer damage, lil girl? Ya never wanna touch or even look at me unless I'm a fuckin' snake. Why is that, huh? Ya got some kinda fuckin' issue with men?"
His voice was venomous, words snarled out in a growl. If it wasn't clear from his eyes, it was completely shown by the anger in his voice. He gnashed his teeth and broke away from her, snatching up his cigarettes and lighting one. It calmed him a little, to puff away at the cancer stick, but he was still livid.
"I know it ain't cause I'm dead- you're a goddamn necro if I ever seen one. N' ya married me, so ya gotta feel at least a little bit o' somethin' for Daddy Juice," he added. His mouth curled into a smirk around his cigarette, and he breathed a ring of smoke at her.
"C'mon, Lyddie. Tell me why ya fuckin' can't‒" his voice climbed into a higher octave at the word‒ "even touch me as a man."
Another smoke ring in her direction and he let out a barking laugh as an idea came into his mind.
"Unless you're a snake fucker. That it, huh? That li'l pussy only get wet for big scaly monsters?"
He knew he was being mean, knew he was being cruel to her, but he was hurting. How could he not? The girl he adored, who he would move mountains for, wouldn't even touch him if he was in his normal state. It was worse than he had imagined when he thought of marrying her, and he hated it.
He thought… she had feelings for him?
Was she that fucked up?
While he ranted and raved, Lydia shrunk further down the wall, becoming smaller with each mean-spirited barb. She'd really done it now. They had a deal. She gave him her word. He hated her. As soon as she realized how much that hurt, she knew how much she did care about him. Those tears she'd been threatening to release finally upended, several crystalline drops staining her deathly pale countenance.
They fell hotter and faster at the horrible nickname. Ashamed, she hid in her knees, thin arms wrapped tight around her legs. "I'm sorry," she mouthed again when she dared to peek up and he was sneering down at her. What might be considered bravely, she pressed forward when he had been silent for too long and the terrible thoughts and memories in her head sought to consume her.
"I'm not‒" Her stutter, which was unapparent when she was at ease and speaking in an ordinary conversation, had her in a vicious chokehold that only added to her miserable shame and embarassment. "I'm not‒ I'm not‒"
She looked like she wanted to die. It took a long time and many swallowed breaths before she could string it together.
"I… am… not... a... virgin."
It was wrong of him to dress her in these pretty white underthings, for more than the obvious reasons.
"When‒ when I was‒ was little‒ I‒ I‒ I'm sorry‒"
He was still so so angry. Even without being able to summon the courage to face him head on, she could feel it permeating the air, chilling her to her bone. Did he consider himself cheated? Lydia didn't blame him if he did. He could do better than her.
"It‒ it happened a lot‒ and‒ and I'm messed up and I'm sorry I hit you, it was an accident, please don't be mad."
His rage cooled in an instant when she confessed. His throat tightened up as the image came together. How? Who?! When she was so small, so hurt… and that stutter… It was painful to listen to and in that moment he hated himself for being himself more than he ever had before. He fucked up, he really fucked up. If he had a heart it would have squeezed tight and broken into pieces.
When he pieced everything together in the way he was pretty sure she was putting it, Betelgeuse let a long, pained sigh escape him, every bit of rage and ugliness leaving him with it.
"Lydia…" his voice was quiet, gentle. She had been used in the past, by the men around her. Oh, he was a fucking idiot.
The poltergeist moved to her slowly, sinking to his knees in front of her and gathering the tiny girl in his arms.
"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't… I didn't think. Don't wanna hurt you, Lyds. Wanna make you happy," he murmured into her hair. "Don't give a shit 'bout you not bein' a virgin‒" even if he did, in his deep dark soul, seethe at having her cherry stolen, but not at her.
"‒ don't gotta be pure for me, Lyds. Still hot to me. Don't even give a shit that ya hit me. Water off a duck an' all that horse shit."
Betelgeuse's voice was reedy as he spoke, muffled by the inky black of her hair.
"Don't gotta be a man. Can be the snake if ya want… Anythin' to make you happy. Want ya t'be comfortable. Ain't mad, promise. Just tell me whatcha want, baby girl."
Lydia's poor heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her chest the entire time he held her, unable to find rest yet in his arms. Maybe someday she would, but not today. Faster, keener than she would care to admit, she gave her consent to the ungodly act he was suggesting. Human flesh was clammy with sweat and hair and stench…
His scales were cool to the touch and beautiful, no pimples or pockmarks or other imperfections.
"I can be better," she promised, horrified that the disgusting truth was out in the air now. "I can learn. Just… not now. This time."
In an act of good faith, despite how rigid and fearful she was in his tender arms, trembling like a leaf, a little white hand came up to grasp his lapel‒ touching him of her own volition.
"Please… change… I'm so sorry, B…"
That singular touch of her hand had him melting. He knew it before but now it was ingrained deeply into his head that he would do anything for her. His wife… His Lydia. Betelgeuse melted into the long coils and scales, feet of muscles curling around the delicate girl in his lap.
He rubbed his head against hers, hissing quietly. The rattle at the end of his tail sounded as well, a harmony for her to relax to. Though he didn't need to breathe, he moved himself to simulate breathing, another act to calm Lydia down.
"Anythin' for my wife," he murmured. Betelgeuse slunk to his coffin, a length of him holding Lydia tight as he moved. Mimicking the form they took the night before, he curled tight around the girl and rubbed himself fully against her.
"We have all the time in the world for you to be better… I know you can get comfortable with me."
He didn't mention that he had every faith in her, that he would wait as long as possible for Lydia to settle into her new life. She couldn't know how soft he was getting. It would ruin his reputation.
The constant, steady thrumming of his rattle lulled her quite effectively. The sweet things he whispered were like poetry in that guttural voice of his, soft and saccharine just for her. She felt high, dizzy and wrapped up in his affection. The little frightened bird in her chest was resting now, once tense bunches of muscle soft and liquefied beneath the thin layer of silk separating her from his scales.
"Are you… hypnotizing me…?"
The question came minutes later into his sweet nothings, once she was thoroughly massaged by the strong coils tensing and untensing around her in a precise and specific rhythm. She giggled at the prospect, not at all offended. The long hem of her angel-white little slip had ridden up with all his undulations, exposing sensitive, creamy thighs for the beast to rub against and savor the warmth.
"I feel funny… but it's nice. This is nice… It's like cuddling…" Again, she released a bell-like gasp of laughter, veritably amused by this for some reason.
"I had a pet snake once. He was a California King named Rex. He was so beautiful… but he got out once and scared Delia and she made me get rid of him."
Sadness colored her tone again, but at least this time it wasn't paired with that heartbreaking panic she really couldn't help.
The fact that he was hypnotizing her a bit wasn't something he expected her to figure out. But then again, she was always such a smart human. Betelgeuse didn't reply, just kept it up until he felt her melt against him. He wished she could have handled him having his hands on her‒ the poltergeist desperately wanted to run his fingers through her hair and over every inch of her body.
He settled for the sweet warmth against his scales, moving his head around her as he watched the slip go higher and higher. The sight and smell of her uncovered panties had him almost purring. Oh, that was delicious. His tongue ran along her thigh, his sigh echoing around her.
"Can be yer new Rex-sss… Won't wear a collar or nothin' though," he chuckled. His lips met her hair, placing a kiss on the back of her head then her neck. When she moved, the pressure made his muscles ache, her thighs rubbing against the front of his cloaca. Had he any blood left to, he would flush as his dicks slid out slowly, tacky pre smearing against Lydia's skin.
"Look what ya do to me, lil missss," he breathed, shifting her so her thighs framed him, dicks bobbing softly between her legs.
Vaguely, Lydia was aware that she probably should have been upset that he was manipulating her like that, but all she could find was gratitude. He was making this so easy for her, and he really didn't have to, not according to the terms of that verbal contract they made in the woods.
"Thank you…" she expressed dreamily and nonsensically while he kissed over her, careful not to let his mouthful of dagger-like fangs prick her. Her thighs rubbed together at the introduction of two sticky, large obstructions between them.
"What's uhh… what's that…?"
Blinking blearily, she attempted to move against his hold and investigate only to find her muscles squeezed and pulled into mush, rendering them practically useless. With great effort, she managed to pull her arms down between her legs, grasping each syrupy dick in a weak little hand. Only once she was holding them did she realize exactly what they were, pale pink lips puckering into a surprised "o". She would have released him out of propriety, but he shuddered around her, pulling her compact for a breathless moment, and her arms and hands were pressed to slide against his genitals and between her legs.
Her lace scrap of a thong was quickly soaked through by the abundance of secretion his alien cocks produced. An ultra-sensitive area between her legs was being stimulated where it wasn't before, and Lydia suddenly realized that it had been crying out to be touched for several minutes now. With a pitiful little moan, she dug deep for the energy to squeeze her shaky legs around him and press harder, make it feel better.
"Oh‒ oh God…"
He hissed like the serpentine creature he was in that moment, shaking and contracting at the feeling of her delicate hands on him. The slick that coated him was quick to cover her thighs and hands, his body rocking into hers. She was covered in so much fabric, it was starting to annoy the softer scales on his belly.
He twisted his bride around and sunk his teeth into her slip, ripping the fabric into shreds. Underneath was a translucent bra, the sky pink of her nipples showing through the creamy lace, and the white of her panties.
"Ya look good enough ta eat, Lydsss," he hissed before dragging her thong down her legs. Once she was bare Betelgeuse took the chance to bury his mouth between her soft thighs. His tongue ran a long stripe over her, lips pinched around her clit in an experimental suck. When she cried out and bucked against him, he did it again, tongue pressing inside her.
He was lucky for his venom to be an aphrodisiac when he wasn't on the attack and made sure to push as much inside the girl. The poltergeist wanted her relaxed and happy to make this good for her. When she was soaking wet and right on the edge of her first orgasm, he pulled his mouth away, wanting to see her face when she realized it wouldn't be that easy.
"Beg me," Betelgeuse growled, the tips of his fangs hovering above the soft skin of her thigh. "Beg me to cum, Lydsss."
Lydia was no longer her own. Everything she had was dedicated to him; her body, her mind, her will. There was no disobeying him, even if she had the thought to. He surrounded her weak, fragile form from every angle, and even if it weren't for that, every motion and tug and jerk took so much effort on her part. Why on earth would she expend energy trying to escape when the things he was doing felt so good?
He could do things no mere man could do; devouring her from the center, teasing both her entrances with his slippery cocks, and keeping her arms and legs bound all with a single body. The time came for her to beg, her bottom half panging at the sudden still as he retreated, and she cried out achingly for him like a sad, desperate thing.
"Please!" His ghastly head floated above hers, drinking in each sob. For once, she put in precious energy to reach for him and kiss his sharp, dangerous mouth, but he was so heavy.
"Please! I can't‒" Her hips writhed into the emptiness, one of her little tits jostling out of her bralette with the motion. All the while big honey eyes pled with him, glistening with tears of frustration while old, sad tears still dried on her cheeks.
"I need it… Please…? I'll be good! I'll be so good for you… just please… please…"
He was drooling enough that his coffin would be soaked under them, but Betelgeuse didn't give a shit. He had a pretty little flower in his coils and was going to split her apart- something that had him squeezing Lydia tight. When he heard her back give a pop he loosened his grip and made sure she wasn't hurt before he kissed her. Spit and slick coated his tongue as he nudged it into her mouth.
"Ssspread yourssself… Gonna take a lot to fit all o' thessse," he chuckled. Betelgeuse let her have control of one of her arms and moved himself around to watch from over her shoulder. When her fingers slid to her cunt, he let the rough rattle at the end of his tail rest against a pale thigh. Even if he ached to shove himself into her and just take, he couldn't. She'd be hurt, and he didn't want that. So he would take his time with her and stretch her proper.
As he nudged his rattle against her core, he hissed praise in the girl's ear. "You look beautiful… Preciousss little morsssel for me to eat up. You're alwaysss ssso good for me- never complainin' no matter what I do or sssay." The first few segments of his rattle slid inside her, shaking just so to vibrate inside her. Though he didn't feel anything in it, Betelgeuse's dicks still wept from the sight of her being stretched on him.
After his rattle, the slide of his cock inside her cunt was easy. He moved her so she was riding him, letting gravity do the work of lowering his human bride onto him. The rattle was moved to her other hole, pressing between her cheeks to tease against the pucker. "Think you can take me in both your holesss? Not fair for one to have fun while the other sssuffersss," he cooed in her ear, bucking up into Lydia.
"Would be really sssexy if you could, Lydsss…"
That he might want to take her there was a concept that, stupidly enough, had not even occurred to the hypnotized and sex-drugged Lydia.
"I don't‒ I don't know," she rasped disjointedly, still gritting her teeth through the shock of her impalement. He was sweet about it, took his time and didn't rush, but there was only so much that could be done. Through the dizzying haze of lust and pleasure, she felt a distinct twinge of pain as he took her, of the natural ache that came from something so big forcing its way into something so small. It was a sobering experience, one that reminded her of how much more painful the act he was suggesting was likely to be…
… but it didn't hurt now. The gentle pressure at her backside was nice even, pleasurable and non-threatening as she grasped randomly at his scales for purchase, weak thighs trembling around her cylindrical mount. This was an unnatural thing they were doing. Their bodies didn't fit right together, weren't designed to, and didn't want to. Well, hers didn't. His was eager enough, slick and slimy and slithering into places it knew it didn't belong. Despite the knowledge that she was filthy and wrong for allowing this to happen, the sin was a delicious one.
Once she grew accustomed to her rightful place with much wiggling and discomforted little noises, she fell into a clumsy but desperate rhythm riding him, her little feet finding purchases in awkward places in order to push up just so that gravity could pull her back down‒ inch by thick, succulent inch. In conjunction with such raw sensation, his praise and compliments gave her that extra glow of confidence, that extra push she needed to feel so damn good on the inside that it overflowed to her outsides and triggered an explosive first orgasm.
Every last muscle, previously so sweet and pliant against him, clenched up tight while her jaw dropped in a silent scream, blunt little human fingernails scratching ineffectually into his diamond-coated scales. A solid answer to his invasive request filled the air, though it was not likely Lydia was cognizant she was giving permission to anything.
The slick he was leaking was enough to cover his rattle, the appendage pushing inside her ass slowly. The pressure of her hole being spread was doubled by the ache of him in her slick cunt. He expected her to be tight like this, but when she suddenly clenched in her first orgasm, he felt like he was the one being constricted. Betelgeuse let out a long hiss, fangs dragging down her porcelain back and leaving long, thin lines of blood.
The stain of the red against her was a delicious sight, and his tongue rolled slow over the hot liquid. Copper filled his mouth, and he made more drags down her back to get more of the taste.
"That'sss my good girl… Takin' me ssso good. Even comin' for me- sssuch a good lil' girl for me," he hissed. Again, he wished he had hands so he could reach between her legs and bring her more pleasure by rubbing her clit. Instead, he worked with what he had. With some maneuvering, he managed to slip his soft underbelly between her thighs, making sure she ground down on him with every downward thrust of her delicate hips.
When he felt she was stretched enough, Betelgeuse rested his head on her shoulder.
"Wanna help me ssslide in, Lydsss? Don't have handsss," he chuckled. His voice was the same gravely rasp as normal, tongue flicking out with each slithering, elongated consonant. "Go ssslow ssso you don't hurt yourssself."
He was intent on getting both cocks in her and filling her to the brim, bringing her the most pleasure he possibly could in the process. Already, Betelgeuse was addicted to the tight squeeze when she came. He wanted to wring as many of them out of her as possible just to feel it again.
She let loose the sweetest little scream when his fangs tore into her, high-pitched and crystal-clear and laced with fractures of pleasure that were too intense to not shine through. Everything was so... wet. Lydia could barely distinguish between sweat and blood and cum, was only able to hold onto him and keep doing this due to his punishing and unyielding grip on her.
The last of her flimsy lace coverings were ripped away when his teeth came for her a second time, the pristine white fabric tainted with a flowering crimson stain caught out of the corner of her eye. But then he pushed his rattle deeper at the same time a rough tongue dragged along the thin lashes marring her flawless back and she was too overwhelmed with sensation to give the sudden and alarming presence of blood any further thought.
This was fine. There was too much good for the bad to hurt too much.
Shakily, at his hissing direction, she slumped forward over him until her front was plastered along his underbelly, ass in the air and pussy still mounted, the obscenely innocent hug giving her the purchase and balance necessary to reach back and do what he was asking of her. She knew that it was going to hurt and feel strange, but the option to simply ignore his request didn't occur to her.
He didn't need to hypnotize her all that much to turn her into the mindless, wanton slave she was now. Just a little push, that's all it was. Just a little something to clear her mind, relax her body, and keep her open to the possibilities.
Every noise from the smallest whimper to the scream she let out had him panting like a dog. It was so unfair for her to be so delicious. He was ruined for anyone else, ruined for any snatch that wasn't Lydia. Betelgeuse stilled when he pressed inside her ass, huffing against her crimson-stained back as he felt her squeezing him. His head hurt, and it felt like his eyes would pop out of his skull at any second. This was heaven and hell all in one, he decided. A perfect experience that he never wanted to have an end.
He moved before she was ready, undulating under the girl and shoving himself deep inside both her holes. He couldn't get enough… the feeling of her little tummy bulging against his scales had him drooling even more. He fucked her hard, taking every inch of her and every noise she let out. At this point he couldn't care if she was hurting‒ the only thought in his head how hot she was around him. Instinct had taken over and his mind was screaming to breed her.
"Ssso… Ssso fuckin' good for me," he whined, his cheek pressed against hers. Betelgeuse wanted to grab her hips, bruise her ivory skin and make her squeal but hands were off-limits so his coils would have to do. Yards of his serpentine body curled around her, squeezing in all the right places and manipulating her. Soon Lydia was just a doll he had control over, bouncing her on both cocks and making her belly pout from fullness.
"Taking me ssso good… Look real tasssty with a big fat belly." He emphasized his point with a deep thrust inside her, pushing her head down so she could see how much he had stretched her out.
Lydia tried her best, she really did. Put in a respectable effort, tried to move with him, be a corresponding and active participant despite the pain, despite her fearful misgivings, lack of experience, and talent. But… she was only human. Just a little human girl trying to make love to a monster. There was only so much she had to offer up for sacrifice, and he had eagerly taken it all.
In the wake of his ferocity, there was little Lydia could do for herself other than to just surrender what was left of her agency, go limp to the squeezing coils and brutal thrusting, and embrace the agony, euphoria, and everything in between. Barely lucid, she floated along atop him during her ravishment, lashes fluttering on each thrust in sweet, pure contrast to the way his pupils were thinning further and further in a carnivorous frenzy.
He seemed more beast than man at this point, and if Lydia had more of her senses available, she might have feared he would give in to a different sort of temptation and sink those fangs deeper than her humanity could afford‒ but that never happened. They only ever glided just so over the delicate porcelain tissue, just enough to draw blood and make marks that wouldn't scar.
She felt so full she might die, letting loose a mournful, overwhelmed sound when he easily tilted her lax head forward, the monster proudly showcasing the way he was rearranging her guts to make room for him. He was going to kill her. Not a terrible way to go, all things considered, and death didn't feel immediately imminent, so any type of panic or protest seemed… exhausting. Pointless.
When he wasn't actively using it against her, his rattle maintained that hypnotic, steady rhythm, sounding smooth and calm over the hectic rush of blood in her ears, the squelching of their parts joining and separating. Her next orgasm built up in time with it, sneaking up on her and exploding with a melodious, but weak, cry, forcing tired muscles to start milking him for seed again.
"Betel‒ geuse," she whimpered on the comedown, the syllables stuttered with his relentless pumping, his tail-end repeatedly slamming between her thighs to rut her with single-minded greedy hunger.
"It's too much," she begged, unaware of what she was asking for and certainly not expecting any kind of mercy or reprieve. Nevertheless, beg she did.
"I can't. I can't. I'm gonna‒ oh‒ oh!"
Yet another climax took her quickly after the previous one, fresh tears dampening her already wet cheeks at its near-painful intensity, slick cherry lips parted as if begging to be filled with another cock she couldn't handle.
This was almost too much, even for him. Every movement inside Lydia had his brain pulsing and eyes burning, the tight squeeze of her around him making Betelgeuse lose his fucking mind. She mewled about it being too much and then had back to back orgasms around him‒ obviously, she liked something about him taking her in such a ferocious manner.
His tongue slid up her cheeks, catching each tear and trailing slick saliva over her face, then her lips. He teased the appendage between those pretty lips, brain firing the scenario of her sucking on one of his cocks. Realistically she'd never be able to fit more than half of one in her mouth… but shit was it hot to imagine her gagging on both of them. Maybe he could wean her into sucking him off when he was a little more human.
He hissed as his tail stilled, fangs sinking into her shoulder a bit deeper than before.
"You sssay my name again and I'll leave you without my cum, babesss… Can't be disssappearin' when I'm ballsss deep in your holesss."
Betelgeuse's tone was one of warning, his rasping hiss full of annoyance, as well as a hint of fear. He was afraid of her slipping up, sending him away… He didn't really want to gag her but if he had no choice… When it seemed Lydia had calmed and quieted down, he rolled his hips into hers once more.
"Pleassse what, Lydia? Want me to fill your pusssy up? Ussse your words, baby…"
He was being a bit mean with torturing her with the slow drag of his cocks and then telling her to speak, he knew it. But the way her mouth fell open and her eyes crossed at the feeling had him aching for release. Betelgeuse tipped her head up, rattle catching in her hair and tugging the ebony strands. Once again his eyes were swirling, hypnosis settling in her head like a weighted blanket.
"Tell me what you need, Lydsss," he encouraged, voice sweet even as his pace picked up speed. "Nn… Let Daddy know what you're beggin' for, sssweet girl."
Everything slowed down again when her hair was tugged back, a lily-white swan-like throat bared for the slaughter while dazed honey eyes met swirling pools of liquid jade and citrine. His pretty gemstone eyes kept her enraptured, watching the waves of color fracture together and apart, blending and separating in a constant, ever-changing flow.
Her lips started moving without her permission, spewing without inhibition whatever truths she had to offer that she thought might please the beautiful, horrific beast.
"Please cum," she pled, tired arms finding the strength to move languidly across an expanse of scales‒ petting. "I can't keep up… I want to… but I can't."
It was true, she did. Maybe she didn't when they started, but this was a foreign and exotic world of which she held an untapped curiosity for that was now awake and thriving. Maybe a less worthless and pathetic bride would be able to handle him, but poor Lydia was struggling. Unfortunately for her, her sadist of a husband seemed to enjoy that part of their tryst the best.
"You're so beautiful," she continued to babble mindlessly while tiny little fingers stroked his scales even as his thrusting picked back up in earnest. The pull of her hair kept her back arched dramatically, insides pulled nice and compact for his violent violation of her person. But she was good for him and stayed pliable to his pushing and pulling, entirely too forgiving and tolerant of the whole affair.
"I'm sorry I can't fuck right…"
Cum and Fuck were dirty words that the rabid serpent had never heard fall from Lydia's polite pink lips before, but hypnosis was a hell of a drug.
"I'll get better. Please cum inside me…"
That last little bit was interesting. Specific. Perhaps she was just parroting her puppetmaster but without the virtue of clear mind and conscience free of his will, he would never know.
Oh, she was the definition of perfection. Her breathless words and her sweet cries had his breath hitching. That begging was music to his ears. Having this darling human under his control, in his coils and bending to his will was better than any drug he had tried in all of his years‒ both living and dead. His fangs ran over her throat, ghosting over her jugular for the thrill of it. His tongue followed to dull the sting, and he licked up the tang of her sweat once again.
"You're ssso sssweet, Lydia. Sssayin' all thossse nasssty thingsss to me, beggin' for my cum..."
When she clutched around him again, tighter than anything he'd felt before, he couldn't help himself. The flood of cum from both cocks inside her was something that couldn't be expected to stay in the girl's body. It was a lot, and she was just so little. Sure enough, it dripped from her onto the cushions of the coffin underneath them and his lower scales as well. The knowledge of filling her so deeply and claiming her in every way had Betelgeuse on cloud nine. Even if he may not have been the first to do this, he was still a cut above whatever men that had Lydia before. He was her husband and a fucking beast the first time he took her, for fuck's sake.
He shook against Lydia, cocks jumping inside her and making her twitch each time. The high when he came was something he liked the most, and with Lydia, it was an even higher feeling. It was addicting‒ and he didn't mind it one bit. Betelgeuse sighed against her shoulder when he was finished, licking his lips at the creamy mess between her thighs and the feeling of her exhausted body slumping against him.
"You're sssuch a good girl… Ssso proud of you, Lydsss. Took my dicksss ssso well, like a fucking pro," he murmured, rubbing his cheek on her hair. She smelled of sex and sweat, no longer her sweet perfume and shampoo. His lips met her hair in a kiss, his body moving to slip out of her ruined holes. He really hoped she wasn't too broken from this… but then again, under those circumstances that meant he would get to keep her around more under the guise of caring for her wrecked body.
"Ya did very good, baby. 'M real happy with ya."