Limitless Evolution As a Snake

The air around me shifts, smoke curling off my scales thicker than before, and then I’m splitting, twelve times over, each copy peeling off my main body like a snake shedding skin, except every piece is a whole new me, six inches tall, same dark iridescent scales, same stupid confidence radiating off each one despite being smaller than a TV remote.

Lyra’s mouth drops open.

Cherry actually screams, but it’s the good kind of scream, the kind that comes with her whole body arching against the ropes like she can’t help it.

”Oh my god,” Lyra breathes, watching twelve tiny versions of me hover in the air for a second before splitting into two groups of six, ”oh my god, that’s—that’s so many of you—”

”Surprise,” I say, my main voice and twelve tiny echoes all saying it at slightly different times, which honestly sounds way funnier than I meant it to.

Six of my mini-mes drop down onto Lyra first, tiny smoke tendrils finding her skin immediately, no hesitation, slithering up her thighs, along her ribs, one of them already latching onto her nipple with a mouth way too small to actually be doing what it’s doing but somehow managing it anyway.

She gasps so hard it sounds like she got punched.

The other six land on Cherry, who’s still shaking from her last orgasm, way too sensitive for what’s about to happen to her, and I feel a little bad about that for exactly zero seconds before deciding I don’t actually feel bad about it at all.

One tiny me slides straight down between her thighs, tongue flicking out to taste her, and she bucks so hard against the ropes the whole headboard creaks.

”Wait, wait, I just, I just came, I can’t—” Cherry stammers, except her hips are already grinding down against the little guy’s face, completely contradicting every word out of her mouth, same as always.

”You can,” I tell her, echoing myself from a minute ago, and honestly it’s kind of funny hearing my own line get reused on a different girl in the same night, but nobody in the room seems to appreciate the comedic timing except me.

On Lyra’s side, two of my copies latch onto her nipples at the same time, sucking hard, tiny bodies rocking with the motion like they’re trying to get milk out of something that’s never going to produce any, and the sensation must be insane because she starts making this high, keening sound I’ve genuinely never heard out of her before.

”Matt,” she gasps, ”Matt, they’re, oh god, they’re actually—”

”Sucking your tits, yeah,” I finish for her, because I’m nothing if not helpful, ”how’s it feel?”

”Insane,” she chokes out, ”it feels insane, I don’t, I can’t—”

Another copy slides lower, tongue tracing down her stomach, past her navel, teasing right along the edge of where she wants it most, and she’s already rocking her hips up to chase it, straining against the rope as she might actually break the headboard if this keeps up.

Same thing’s happening on Cherry’s side, except she’s already further gone than Lyra, one copy licking slow circles around her clit while another one slides teasingly close to her ass, testing, teasing, never quite committing, and she’s babbling now, half-formed words tumbling out that don’t make sense as sentences anymore.

”Please, please, Matt, tell them to, oh god, tell them to actually—”

”Tell them yourself,” I say, watching from where I’m still hovering, main body intact, smoke curling lazily off my scales while I just soak in the sight of both of them falling apart under an army of miniature me’s, ”they’re me. They already know what you want.”

As if on cue, the copy between her legs finally stops teasing and latches onto her clit properly, sucking hard, and Cherry’s whole body goes rigid, back arching off the bed so far her wings flare out wide behind her.

”FUCK,” she screams, and it echoes off the walls, raw and desperate.

On Lyra’s side, the same thing happens a moment later, copie’s diving in properly, tongue working her clit while another set of me’s spread her open just enough to get better access, and she’s not even forming words anymore either, just broken gasps and my name, over and over, like a chant she can’t stop.

I let them build like that for a while, tongues working, mouths sucking, tiny hands roaming everywhere they can reach, both girls writhing and straining against their ropes, hips rocking up desperately trying to get more contact, more pressure, more anything.

Then I give the mental nudge, and the last three copies on each girl start moving into position.

On Lyra, three of my tiny selves line up right at her entrance, hovering there for just a second, teasing the anticipation out as long as I can stand it, and she actually whines, hips bucking up trying to force the contact herself.

”Please,” she begs, voice wrecked, ”please, I need it, I need—”

I don’t make her wait any longer.

All three drop at once, sliding into her together, and the sound she makes isn’t even words anymore, just a long broken moan that goes straight through me even from across the room. Her pussy’s already slick and swollen from the teasing, but three cocks at once, even tiny ones, is still a stretch, still enough to make her whole body seize up around them.

They start moving immediately, thrusting in this staggered rhythm, not quite in sync with each other, which somehow makes it worse for her, better for her, whatever the right word is when someone’s getting fucked by three different rhythms at the same time and loving every second of it. One pulls back while the other two push forward, constant pressure, constant movement, never a break, never a chance for her to catch her breath.

”Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chants, hips grinding down to meet every thrust despite the ropes cutting into her wrists, chasing the feeling like it’s the only thing that matters in the world right now.