LoreFren's Snektacular Part I

>I was deployed in '23, during the Tel Aviv offensive, and like a fool I bought a piece of it before they sent me home
>A car bomb outside a gate post, a 2-inch piece of steel plate shrapnel, and a 4 and a half hour flight from Tel Aviv to Frankfurt with nothing but duct tape and a corpsman's hands keeping my insides together
>a half-dozen surgeries later, and my back still gives me fits
>Pain, and headaches, sometimes dizzy spells
>If I don't hold myself just right, or if I push myself too hard, my back pitches a fit, and I just sort of curl up in a little ball  until the pain goes away
>Don't have much family, my gramps died while I was away. I read his last letter to me and my sister while I was lying in that hospital bed in Germany
>He left me his place in the Nevada desert, a little ranchet outside of a small town that had been an army town in the 50's, a commune in the 60's, and an artist's colony ever since
>He was a painter, watercolors mostly, some oil and acrylic, and so was I.
>his house was full of his old stuff, along with his brushes and paints
>As far as I know, he never sold any of his stuff, but I always thought he was the greatest artist I had ever seen, and I guess I always hoped to study under him more after the Marines
>Too late now
>My sister and I don't talk much, but she insisted I use some of my benefits to get a live-in nurse to help me with my back
>I didn't want to, but I didn't have much choice. I had a spasm the third day I was alone and almost burned the place down.
>So I put in a call, and the Agency said they'd send someone
>I figured I could learn to live with some little old Filipino or Cuban lady in the house.

>I had had a bad night, the day she arrived
>I was in no mood for company, and I muttered to myself as I shuffled carefully to the door
>It wasn't a little old lady at the door
>She wasn't Cuban
>She wasn't Fillipino
>She wasn't human at all
>In front of me was a 6-foot tall Lamia, dressed in a light desert shirt and a broad-brimmed hat
>"Hello, Mr. Anon, my name is Fatima, I believe the Agency called ahead?"
>I struggled to find words
>I was never 'into' monstergirls. Sure, everyone experiments when they're young, but I never much saw the appeal. What was wrong with a nice human girl?
>I got the appeal then
>Standing in front of me was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen: smooth brown skin above the waist, shiny, dark red scales flowing into a long, wide tail, dark hair in long, flowing ringlets, and huge, mournful brown eyes that seemed to swallow me up.
>I guess I must have there a little long, because she smiled at me and asked, "May I come in?"

>I sat down in a faded armchair in the den and tried to ease the aching in my back
>I offered her a seat on the couch opposite me, but she seemed restless, unwilling to sit down
>She slithered softly on the worn wooden floor, examining the paintings strewn everywhere--on walls, mounted on eisels, laid against furniture, etc.
>She made small talk as the circled the room
>"I understand you were a soldier, Mr. Anon,"
>"A Marine," I corrected, a little testily--gay army homos are soldiers, Marines are Marines
>"You were in Israel during the Levantine conflict?"
>"Yeah, I was there."
>She looked up suddenly from a painting jammed against the couch
>"I was there too," She said softly. My eyebrows shot up in surprise
>"You were?"
>"Yes, I was there. My people, we are not--were not fond of Jews. I am afraid I was very foolish. I wished to defend my homeland, so when your government announced they were withdrawing their protection from the Zionists, I joined a...group...willing to fight them"
>I sat bolt upright in shock
>I regretted it immediately
>through gritted teeth I said, "You were with the partisans?!"
>"For a time..." She resumed circling, slower, more deliberate. She wasn't looking at the paintings anymore
>"The Zionists hated our people, our religion. Not that the government had any great love for us. We were the daughters of Lilith, children of Shaitan, hated and feared almost as much as the Djinni served by those Sunni dogs. But we are not devils," her eyes flashed, dark with anger and wet with tears, "We served the true God, the Lord of Light, Guardian of Eternal Flame, the True King of Persia. So when they told us that the Zionists were weak, and ripe for the attack, my sisters and I volunteered to to be the first to strike at the heart of Ahriman,"
>She sighed
>"We lost so many." She said softly, "So much of our homeland destroyed, dead for a thousand years or more," She circled around again, "And perhaps all destroyed, if not for you--for you people," I nodded solemly. The world had waited with baited breath to see if the fabled 'Samson option' would be used. Technically, it was the NEST teams who stopped the launch, but HECU had been right alongside them, clearing a path to the silos
>"So, after the war, I not know what to do," she slithered closer, leaning close and propping herself up on her coiled tail, "I decide I want to help the people who saved us from destruction. So I join the Agency, they promise to relocated me to this country, and to help me...share my gratitude...with a comrade,"
>I am having trouble following the conversation, because as she is talking she is starting to sway back and forth, almost imperceptibly
>through the light of the window, I can make out her smooth, rounded curves through the slightly-transparent fabric of her loos shirt
>"I want to repay you, Anon, for what you did for me and my sisters,"
>Her swaying gets a little faster. Her breasts jiggle which each twitch of her wide hips. Her belly rolls and pops like a dancer's. Her scales are chittering and singing to the rythymn of her dance.
>"...want to make you happy for the rest of your life, my sweet. Doesn't that sound nice?" It does sound nice
>"But you look so tired, my love, I want you to sleep...when you wake up, I will be here to tend to you properly..."
>All I remember is a feeling of slowly falling into her deep brown eyes. I don't want to stop. I don't stop. I fall forever and ever and ever...

>I'm having the most wonderful dream
>I'm the Sultan in a fairytale palace right out of Francis Burton's Thousand Nights and a Night
>I lie on silken sheets while dark-eyed servant girls fan me and feed me dates
>I ride on a brilliant coal-black stallion at the head of a vast army, scimitar flashing in my hand
>I travel to strange and wonderful lands, vanquishing Djinni and Magi, uncovering ancient and priceless treasures, and rescuing beautiful maidens, all with hypnotic eyes and seductive smiles that promise more adventures to come later...
>At night, I enter my Hareem, filled with the most exotic and tantalizing women on earth. As night falls, I lose myself in their dark, flashing eyes and smooth brown skin, and their sweet laughter that leads me in pursuit all night long....

>I awake
>I'm lying on my bed, face up, with the hot Nevada sun pouring in through my open window
>I am naked
>And miraculously, my back doesn't hurt
>I check myself over cautiously, but aside from a little stiffness I feel fine
>Then Fatima comes in
>"Good morning, my love! Did you sleep well?"
>My Love? Is that...right? Wasn't she my..nurse?
>I tell her I did, and that my back doesn't hurt as usual
>"Oh, that is good, I see my treatment is working. Would you like some breakfast?"
>I sit up and roll my shoulders
>No pain
>No spasms
>No dizziness
>"I feel pretty good, why don't I help you make breakfast?"
>She smiles a little sadly
>"Oh, no, my husband, you mustn't exert yourself. You are not quite well yet. You must lie down and rest. I will bring you your breakfast soon,"
>Something is wrong
>I know something is wrong
>I just can't think what it is
>it does feel nice to lie down and rest. The old sheets are soft and smooth with age, the room is pleasantly warm from the sun. My back doesn't hurt, and I can still see the smiles and flashing eyes of my dream-wives. Now where had I seen eyes like those before?
>Fatima comes back in a minute with a huge tray of food. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Oatmeal with syrup. Milk, Juice, Coffee.
>The drugs usually kill my appetite, but I eat everything. It tastes delicious. As I eat, I keep feeling my eyes wandering to where Fatima is sitting in the corner, curled up on her tail
>She's swaying gently, almost absent-mindedly, like how some people whistle or snap their fingers.
>As I chase the last bit of my eggs with the last bite of toast, I start to feel my eyelids grow heavier. I try to offer to help with the dishes, but Fatima puts as small delicate hand on my chest and smiles kindly
>"No, my husband, I think not. Look how sleepy you are!" She giggles. It's a wonderful, musical sound, like water trickling from a spring, "It's time for your nap. I'll come for you just as soon as these dishes are put away,"
>she pushes me gently backward with the palm of her hand, and I fall helpless back into the pillows
>a little while later, I feel her crawl into bed with me
>I'm so tired I can't seem to move, but I manage to turn my head a little to the side as I feel her warm, smooth tail wrap its coils around my whole body
>I find myself staring into her great, brown eyes again, and she smiles as she pulls me into her embrace
>"Are you ready for another dream, my Husband?"