Disclaimer: All individuals in this story are eighteen or older. The author does not condone sexual acts with non-consenting participants. The author does condone consenting adults doing basically whatever they want to each other in the privacy of their own home. Please enjoy. Constructive feedback is appreciated.
Other than a little residual soreness at the injection site, there’s really nothing significant to report. Dr. Sawyer still thinks I’m crazy, and I suppose he has a point. Not many geneticists out there are willing to subject themselves to a new and untested mutagenic cocktail. That’s what interns are for, so they stay. Still, sometimes you have to take a risk.
We’re really pushing the envelope with this mutagen. Mammalian cross-species are so common these days that people don’t give them a second thought. Canine, feline, even bovine mutagens are so wide spread that they’ve started breeding. We have entirely new thriving species thanks to a little tampering with the genetic code. Holstaur milk is so popular now that people are starting to forget that we used to milk actual cows.
It’s very exciting. Cowgirls might be a dime a dozen, but what we cooked up, what I’ll become, that’s something special. Of course, Dr. Sorkin is convinced that the future of mutagenics lies in avian DNA. I’ll admit, the prospect of human flight unaided by machines is a remarkable one. Still, no one has dared to attempt a transformation this extensive and extreme. It’s frightening…and exhilarating.
Plus, I’ve always been fond of snakes.
So, it’s been a week. Other than the fact that I’m freezing, I don’t feel all that different. We expected this. My metabolism is slowing down, and my body is starting to cool as it loses its ability to create its own heat. We’ve turned up the thermostat to compensate, and Dr. Sawyer was kind enough to get me an electric blanket. He did say that I appear drowsy and sluggish when I’m away from the heat too long, so it seems I’m transitioning from endotherm to ectotherm rapidly.
There’s a draft by the computer. Need to have them fix that. I’m going to take a nap.
We’ve finally gotten the air conditioning sorted out. It seems my ideal temperature is about thirty degrees Celsius. Sweltering for my fellow researchers, but perfectly comfortable for me. I do like it a bit cooler at night, but we had a bit of a scare two days ago, when my temperature dipped too low and it took the better part of twenty minutes to wake me.
Tom, sorry Dr. Sawyer (yes, his name is Tom Sawyer) has been incredibly supportive. At first I thought he was skeptical about the project itself, but now I see he is simply concerned about my well-being. It’s very sweet. It’s been a while since a man concerned himself with me in that way.
We need to keep things professional though. After all, I’m not exactly in a position to pursue anything with anyone at this point.
The itching is driving me absolutely mad. It’s like a combination of chicken pox, poison ivy, and fiberglass. I’m try to keep the scratching to a minimum. My fingernails are starting to get thicker and sharper, and I’m afraid I could do some real damage to myself if I scratch with reckless abandon.
My skin is looking very dull too. It’s lost the natural sheen, almost like it’s dead. Can’t say I’m feeling very attractive at the moment. Tom has been very kind, and very accommodating, making a point to bring me fresh holstaur milk every day. I’ve been craving it for some reason. Interesting.
Big milestone today. There is a definite elongation in my pupils, and my irises are taking on a more golden hue. Plus, I can feel a gap starting to form in the tip of my tongue. So exciting. The itching hasn’t passed, but the humidifier has helped tremendously.
I’ve been eating a lot more meat, to the point that other foods seem wholly unappetizing. My craving for milk is still present as well. Perhaps I need calcium?
My upper canines fell out today. The rest of my teeth are still firmly in place, and I can feel hard bumps under my gums where the old teeth once resided. My pupils are more slits than circles now. It’s rather surreal, looking at myself in the mirror now.
Walking has become very difficult. The muscles in my legs seem to be shifting somehow. We’ll need to monitor this carefully.
Tom was thoughtful enough to hire a cowgirl as an intern, in order to provide me with a fresh supply of milk. Molly is her name. She’s very sweet. She can’t help but pronounce her name with a long O, like Mooly. She offered to let me drink directly from her teat. It was a surprisingly…intimate experience. I knew that holstaurs experienced sexual arousal from milking, but I didn’t think she would moo and moan so plaintively. I confess I found myself rather aroused by the experience myself. I drained all four of her massive breasts in less than an hour.
Must be a side effect of the mutagen.
I’ve been confined to a wheelchair. I can still move my legs, but they cannot support my weight. It’s as if my bones are melting away. They seem determined to stay together as well. When I move one, the other moves in unison, and if it’s painful to try to move them separately.
Molly has been very helpful, helping Tom with my checkup, as well as nursing me when the craving strikes. If she’s put off by my ghastly coloring, she doesn’t show it.
My eyes are entirely reptilian now, golden amber with narrow slits. They’re quite beautiful, if I do say so myself. Also, I think the hard, narrow strips that are growing down the roof of my mouth might be fangs. Very interesting. I wonder if they’re venomous.
The skin between my thighs, knees, and calves has fused together. My feet are indistinguishable from each other as well, and it seems as though the bones have simply dissolved. I can also feel a hard ridge running down from my tailbone, as though my vertebrae are extending further down, past my buttocks and into the top of my quadriceps.
I don’t know if I could get through this without Molly and Tom. The both of them have been truly amazing. Molly fell asleep in bed next to me while I was nursing. She’s so warm, and her fur is so soft and inviting. I think I’m developing very strong feelings for her.
I need to be careful.
My legs have completely fused together. The bones are completely gone as far as I can tell, though my vertebra seems to be extending all the way down to where my feet used to be. The entire lower half of my body appears to be one long grey fleshy cylinder, like a ghostly carrot. Fortunately, my vagina and rectum are unaffected, so elimination hasn’t been an issue.
I was worried that I crossed a line with Molly. She was mooing so feverishly when I nursed her today, I couldn’t help myself. I touched her vagina, just a little at first, but before I knew it, I had two of my fingers inside her. She seemed to enjoy the experience, despite the fact that my fingers have claws now.
Tom and I had a rather intimate exchange as well. We were talking, comparing notes, swapping old stories. I lamented the fact that while I was proud of what we were doing, my dating life was going to take a serious hit. Then he kissed me, deeply. He didn’t seem to mind that I have a forked tongue.
I feel like something big is coming. I need to clear my head.
Today I shed my old skin.
It literally split in two. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a jagged line on my forehead, where the skin had broken. Against my better judgement, I gently pulled at it, and it split across my entire face, falling away like a paper mask. The skin tore down the middle, all the way down my face, my neck, my breasts, revealing shiny new skin underneath. The new skin looked a lot like my old skin, only the hair was gone, save for my head and eyebrows.
Upon closer examination, I realized that my new skin isn’t skin at all. It’s scales. Tiny, soft, scales, barely distinguishable from my human skin. At least until I got to my arms. The skin turned emerald green on the backs of my arms and hands, while the insides of my arms and palms remained flesh-toned.
Once I was done peeling away the skin from my upper body, I looked a little like a peeled banana. I was hesitant about my lower body; unsure what I would find beneath the grey sheath. Finally, I pulled it away, and was overjoyed to discover large green scales on the outsides of my former legs, while the ones just below my vagina were pale gold, running down in a wide band toward where my feet used to be.
I could move it. I was able to flex my lower body, twisting it, wrapping it, even shaking the tip of it independently of the rest.
I have a tail.
My tail keeps getting longer, over two meters long from the base of my hip to the tip of my tail. My appetite has been absolutely voracious. I’ve been suckling at poor Molly’s udders constantly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The last time I nursed, she decided to return the favor, stroking my now scaly, but still incredibly sensitive pussy with her partially hooved fingers. I desperately wanted her to fuck me with her fingers, but I didn’t know how to ask for it without admitting that professional went out the window a long time ago.
Tom stayed the night with me last night. Molly had to visit her sister, and I was so used to having a warm body in my bed that I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I woke up with my tail wrapped around his legs. I was embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed me, then made me breakfast. Half a dozen steaks, cooked rare.
I think I’m falling in love. With both of them.
My tail is now four meters long. I can control it with incredible precision. Good thing too, since it’s powerful enough to crush furniture. Gotta love pure muscle. I’m also surprisingly quick. Tom clocked me at fifteen miles per hour at a dead sprint. Definitely not a cross-species you want to mess with.
My upper body is still as lithe as it every was, save for my breasts. I have no idea why, but I’ve gone up more cup sizes than I can count. Between my tits and my tail, I weigh over one hundred and forty kilograms, but neither of my companions seem to mind.
Tom was happy to report that my mutation has stabilized, that I’ve turned into whatever it was I am supposed to be. We can’t decide whether to go with naga or lamia, and we’ve been using both interchangeably. As for a scientific name, we settled on Homoserpentes scytaleapiens.
Even though my mutation has settled, I feel like something else is coming. Something big.
Today I laid six eggs.
They weren’t terribly large, each on a little smaller than a baseball. The shells were soft, so they were easy to pass. I woke up feeling a slight pressure in my abdomen. I needed to push, so I did. One at a time, they emerged from my vagina, each one making a slight pop as it passed between my labia. I came hard on the third one. Luckily Molly was there to catch the last three.
Tom examined them. They seem viable, but he needs to do further testing. I wonder what would happen if they were fertilized.
Fortunately, you cannot rape the willing. I woke up coiled around Tom, incredibly horny and desperate for relief. I managed to coax his pants down to his ankles with nothing but my tail. I bit his shoulder. No idea why, but my venom seems to be an aphrodisiac. His cock grew hard immediately, and I kissed him deeply as I lowered my pussy onto it, crying out in joy as he penetrated me.
I was in heaven. He let me control everything, not that he had any choice in the matter. I had him wrapped up in my coils so tight that he couldn’t move an inch if I didn’t want him to. It was thrilling, having complete control. It’s never been like that for me with a man before. I wanted to savor every minute of it.
I rode him, squeezing his cock and his body with my powerful muscles. I saw no fear in his eyes, only lust and deep affection, his trust in me absolute. I’d never been so thoroughly and intensely penetrated before. I felt like every inch of my seventeen-foot body was electrified.
We came hard, together. In retrospect, we probably should have used a condom. I had no idea what would happen. If he would get me pregnant, if I even could get pregnant, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him, over, and over, and over again. I kept him inside me for hours, grinding on his cock until he came. My venom must be quite potent. He didn’t go soft on me once.
He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too.
I think I got Molly pregnant.
She was nursing me, like she usually did. Only tonight she smelled incredible, almost like I could taste her arousal in the air. I couldn’t figure it out at first, until she stopped talking, unable to make a sound other than a distressed and horny moo.
Molly was in heat.
It’s a normal part of a cowgirl’s life. I didn’t know if it was her first heat. I suspected it might be. She didn’t mention any calves, and with the amount of time she spent in the lab, I doubted she had time to be bred. Nevertheless, the poor thing was in heat, and there was only one way to scratch that itch, or so I thought.
I enjoyed drinking her milk so much that I decided to eat her. She gave me a concerned moo when I whispered that in her cute floppy cow ear, but when I opened up my coils and put my head between her legs, she got my meaning.
I’d never actually eaten pussy before, but I discovered I rather enjoyed it. It had a slightly acrid taste, but the scent was intoxicating. I bit her inner thigh, curious to see if my venom would have a similar effect. It certainly did. She came on my tongue three times in rapid succession as I probed her cunt, flicking her clit with the forked tip.
I felt something strange, something overwhelming. I wanted to fuck her. I wasn’t sure how that would work exactly, but I spread her legs apart, and moved back up, kissing her lovingly as I pressed my pussy against her own. I ground into her, causing her to moo in sweet agony.
Then, I felt that pressure again, and I knew what I needed to do. I started to push. I pushed my egg down my vaginal canal, through my opening and into her own. Molly’s pussy accepted the egg easily, like it belonged there. I could feel her spasm against me, and when I reached down to probe her sopping wet sex, I couldn’t feel the egg. It was deep, deep inside her, possibly inside her uterus.
I felt the urge to push again. I obeyed it depositing another egg inside my lover. I wasn’t sure what they would do to her, but I needed to fill her up with them. I kissed her, and told her that I was laying my eggs inside her. She kissed me back and mooed softly. I pushed once more, stretching both of us into one last powerful climax as the third egg passed from my body into hers.
I had more eggs in me, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her. Triplets is an ambitious start.
The three of us moved into a comfortable farmhouse outside town. The bustle of the city was too much for me. I was feeling overwhelmed, and they wanted some space to raise our family as well. Living with me meant surrendering control of the thermostat, but Molly and Tom have made peace with that fact. They’ve gotten used to the heat, as well as sharing a bed with each other as well as their favorite naga.
Molly is getting pretty big already. Luckily cowgirls built to deliver babies the size of a two-year-old, or she’d be having a hard time later in her pregnancy. All the ultrasounds look good. There are three perfect little lamia inside her. All girls. Our daughters.
Fortunately, neither Tom or Molly are the jealous type. Tom and I were both eager to get this new species off the ground, which meant impregnating as many willing incubators as we could recruit. I laid eggs inside eleven human women, two more cowgirls, three catgirls, two wolfgirls, and even one self-styled kitsune. I currently have nearly fifty little lamias on the way.
Homoserpentes scytaleapiens is off to a strong start.
Hard to believe it’s been over a year. Tom, Molly, and I are parents to three beautiful girls. Molly seems to think it’s very amusing that I have to share her udders with my daughters. I’m willing to make sacrifices. Good thing I didn’t lay four eggs inside her.
Thanks to a health amount of unprotected sex, both with Tom and a variety of lesbian partners, I’ve impregnated the population of a small town. Our backers were very interested in the results of our little experiment. Turns out my venom can be easily extracted just by biting into a cup, and it’s quite the sexual performance enhancer.
Hard to say what the future holds. We set up a small lab in the basement, just to keep tabs on things. I’ve taken up archery, at first as a hobby, and then as a way to put extra food on our table. I’m pretty good too, if I do say so myself. Molly might be a vegetarian, but I certainly am not.
I’m…happy. It’s strange to think about, that it took abandoning my humanity to get me to this place, but I feel content, at peace in a way I never was before. I love my wife and husband, and I love my daughters in ways I never thought possible.
My name is Dr. Cecilia Sanders. I am an experimental geneticist, proud naga, and mother to a brand-new species. If that doesn’t get me a Nobel Prize, I don’t know what will.