Iss of the Viper

I stared at the serpent sculpted from the stone block, a serpent with an apparent hood of feathers. Scholars worldwide were in disagreement about the hood. Some maintained that this represented the feathered serpent of the Aztecs of South America, a creature today extinct, or at least a creature unseen in times recorded by the written word. Others vigorously defended their position that the serpent represented only a deity of the ancient folklore.

I had come again to this place, as I had so many times before, to contemplate my future and to remember my past. I was not alone in my search into the past. The woman beside me was silent in her perusal of the carving which sat with other like blocks around the courtyard of the temple.

She was a beautiful woman, with deep, blue eyes that glowed with life, and skin the color of wildflower honey highlighted the yellow-blonde mane of hair that cascaded over her khaki shirt. The shirt was open down the front enough to offer a glimpse of a white bra from time to time, and the same coppery color appeared to have no demarcation. This I perceived at the short distance that had separated us until she came to stand beside me.

Her body was exquisite. Hips rounded by maturity nicely filled the khaki shorts, the seam tucking in between buttocks that promised firmness and responsiveness to any man with fortune enough to touch them.

Her breasts were another feature that hinted at ripe femininity and passion. Large enough to force open the shirt and afford a view of soft, rounded curves, they stood proudly from her chest, and no undergarment could have accomplished the elevation by pure mechanics. The absence of a belly indicated that she had born no children, or at least, if she had, she had restored the muscle tone after the birth.

As she came closer, I saw that the tanned skin was smooth and soft. She wore no ring on her left hand, and I debated speaking to her. I must be certain, for she may not be strong enough, and once begun, the journey must proceed to its end. In almost two hundred years, my search had found none I believed to have the strength.

"To which theory do you subscribe?, the pleasantly soft and sensually low voice said.

I awoke from my private thoughts to see her looking at me, the blue eyes glowing with the question, and with some other flame I could not decipher.

"Which theory?"

"Is this a myth, or a real, though extinct, animal."

Would that I could tell you, my flaxen-haired beauty, the truth that I know, the dual curse and blessing bestowed on me so many years ago. Would that you would believe me, even if this truth were revealed to you now. But I know that you, like all others, would brand me a lunatic, a victim of some grievous mental disease or simply think me consumed by childish fantasy.

"It is difficult to say. The figure appears so often in this culture that one would believe it a deified, living creature, but why would the sculptors not have depicted it in the scenes of ceremonies if it were so? Perhaps it was a living, feared creature, and the priests placed its effigy around the temple to fend it off, much as Australian farmers hang dingo carcasses on fences. Perhaps it was merely the vision brought to an ancient priest by the use of strong medicinal plants. Who can say, so many ages after these stones were carved?"

"You have adroitly sidestepped giving me an answer, sir, but no mind. Perhaps the mystery should remain as such. Sometimes, the truth is less palatable than the myth, and greater knowledge is not always to one's benefit."

"Spoken as one versed in the pain of truth and the comfort of myth, my lady. Perhaps you are a scholar?"

The soft eyes suddenly flared brighter as she looked at me, and then returned to deep, unfathomable pools.

"I am Isa Bjoran, curator of antiquities for the Museum of Civilization in Copenhagen. I have studied the ruins of the Maya and Aztec for many years. The origin of this serpent has escaped me thus far, but I believe it to be an actual creature of the past."

The eyes settled on mine, or rather, into mine as she waited for a response. Perhaps she could bear the experience. If she could...

"My name is Richard Wainwright, and, alas, I am but a layman in these matters. I enjoy collecting artifacts for my private pleasure and for my business, but my studies are surely less exacting than yours. I suppose it would please me if the creature were real, for that would give more meaning to the sculptures."

She smiled.

"Well, it seems as if we have at least one thing in common."

"So it does. Miss Bjoran, and since I am alone and you appear to be so also, would you do me the great pleasure of dining with me tonight? We could discuss this matter in detail over coffee afterwards."

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The truth of the serpent is a tale best begun at the beginning, and it is in the summer of 1823 that I start.

The expedition was financed by a wealthy landowner with estates near London whose fortune was exceeded only by his desire to believe any tale of adventure that would lead to wealth. On one of his daily rides through the grounds, he was approached by one of his grooms, a small, dark, furtive man with only one arm who told a tale of gold and silver in a certain river valley of the Amazon.

The man claimed to be a Portuguese sailor who had worked on a boat that traveled up-river to trade with the natives. He had made advances toward a certain native woman, who led him from the river to a cave further up the valley. There, the sailor had fallen to the charms of her young, pert breasts, and the always-damp passage faintly shrouded by the soft hair which caressed her mound.

The young woman was insatiable, and they went every day to the cave. One day, as he lay cradled between her thighs, his organ deep in her belly as she arched once again in a shattering climax to her arousal, he chanced to see a yellow glint in the earth. As she arched high and screamed out her release, he too, was overcome with passion, and filled her belly with his seed as he had so often in the past.

The woman slept for a time, refreshing herself for another session of pleasure before they returned to the village, and he also pretended to sleep. When the young woman's breathing became deep and regular, he rose and investigated the glint. A slight amount of digging revealed two small figures of large breasted women, one made of gold and the other of silver. Slipping the two figures into his pocket, he returned to the young woman's side.

She soon awoke, and reached immediately for his manhood. Quickly bringing him to an erect state with her able lips and soft hands, she straddled him and impaled herself over his engorged member, her flowing passage wetting her nether lips to an extent that he was completely engulfed by her first thrust.

She rode him as a wild animal, small noises of passion murmuring from her lips as her eyes rolled back and she began pinching her nipples cruelly to heighten her pleasure. As he could take no more, and began to spurt, she shuddered, ground her mound into his belly forcing him so deeply into her that he felt the resistance of her womb, and then collapsed with a moan onto his chest. Shortly, they returned to the village, but he had not forgotten to memorize the way from the cave that he might find it again.

When they arrived at the village, the captain of the trading boat announced that it was time to depart. After promising the village chief to return in a few months with more trade goods, they steamed for home.

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Six months later, the sailor found himself carrying trade goods to the same village. He looked for the young woman, but did not see her. As the trading session began, he looked up at the sound of a scuffle. The chief was dragging a woman heavy with child toward them. To his horror, the woman was the same with which he had lain on the prior trading mission. The chief screamed something at her, and she pointed to the sailor.

Strong arms held him as the chief approached. The chief picked up a trade machete, and as the sailor's right arm was extended by force, the chief severed it in one stroke. At this instant, the others of the trading party opened fire with rifles and pistols and drove the natives into the forest. They hastily made their way to the boat and cast off.

By virtue of the clean cut, a large amount of medical care, and luck, the sailor survived, but no captain would hire a one-armed sailor. Over a period of five years, he made his way to England as a cook's helper, livestock tender and by doing other menial work. For many years, he earned a living as a groom for the landowner, but the work was hard and the salary insufficient to pay for the ale and ladies he coveted.

He eventually sold the two figures in order to obtain funds, and, when this bank was also expended, the sailor had realized that the location of the gold might bring more money than the artifacts themselves. This is when he approached the wealthy gentleman.

Our benefactor was carried away with the prospect of more wealth, and organized an expedition to find the cave and bring away all the gold and silver to be found. Although twenty years had passed since the sailor last saw the treasure, the landowner believed it would still be secreted in the cave. Being twenty-two years young, and ready to test myself against the world, I joined the expedition.

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The voyage to the mouth of the Amazon was uneventful, as was the outfitting and the trip up-river to the location on the crude map drawn by the sailor. We were steaming up the tributary that led to the village, when disaster struck. A large tree was floating nearly submerged in the rapid spring current, and went unseen by the lookout. The butt end crashed into the boat, bursting her planking and flooding her hold. I was fortunate to be on deck at the time, was thrown over the side by the collision, and managed to secure a small log to support me. The rest of the crew was not so fortunate. I never saw any of them again.

I floated for days, it seemed, tormented by biting fishes and insects, until I released my hold and cast my fate to chance.

I awoke in a dream, a dream of strange, brown skinned people in masks, a dream of a lighter skinned young woman, naked save for a bark apron, and a dream of horrible fear. I was in some type of grass and stick hut. A fire burned beside me, and the brown skinned masks crowded around me, chanting in an indecipherable tongue.

One very old man sat nearby, shaking a crooked wood staff with a feathered end. He was remarkable not only because of his great age, but also for the size of his manhood. The huge engine was erect and seemed as large as the member of a small pony. As the chant increased in volume, the old man approached, and pointed the staff at me. It was then that I saw that the staff was indeed some sort of viper, a viper somehow made rigid by the efforts of the old man.

As the feathered head approached, the mouth opened, revealing a single fang, centered in the mouth. The old man began passing the viper above my body, and as I looked down to follow its path, I came to the shocking realization that I was lying there completely naked.

The old man spoke to the young woman, and she immediately knelt at my side. To my shock, she grasped my organ and began massaging it. In my weakened condition, she received no response to her ministrations, and looked at the old man in frustration. He again spoke to her, and she rose to walk to the side of the hut. She returned with a leaf upon which I saw a clear jelly of some sort.

She began to apply this substance to my member, and to my shock, it became immediately erect. She then engulfed the swollen head between her lips and began to nurse as a child would its mother's nipple. At once, my organ began to respond in a way that I had never experienced. The sensations were exquisite nearly to the point of pain, and I feared that, in my exhausted condition, they would cause me to lose consciousness.

As she licked and suckled on the swollen head and shaft, a tension and a tremendous feeling of anticipation began to build in my loins. I was nearing the release of this tension, my body arching uncontrollably and my hips jerking up and down when the old man said something softly.

She immediately stopped, and held my turgid organ upright. The old man lowered the viper-staff to the head, and the viper struck with lightening speed. The fang was imbedded deeply in the head of my organ, and I felt a second of incredible pain. Then, almost instantly, waves of immense pleasure and relief swept over my body as I began to spurt my seed, again and again. My body went rigid as the young woman again captured my organ in her mouth and began to suckle again.

It seemed as if the waves would never subside and that my seed would never stop flowing. When I was finally spent, the young woman began a slow massage with more of the clear jelly. The last thing I remember was her mouth again moving over my length, the rise of incredible, uncontrollable feelings, and darkness as I spurted into those lips again and again.

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When I awoke, I was lying, still naked, on a reed mat under an open canopy, and I was tied hand and foot with coarse vines. The young woman was by my side, and seeing me stir, began to speak. Although I could not understand her words, her tone was soothing, and I lay still and watched. She called softly into the distance, and presently a second native woman appeared and sat beside me. She lifted my head to her lap and held her heavy breast to my lips.

I did not understand what I was to do. I looked to the young woman, who pursed her lips and rubbed her stomach. Ah, she wanted me to eat, to eat from the woman's milk-laden breast. The thought was repulsive to me, and I sought to roll away, but found my condition so weakened that I could not move.

As I looked back into the face that cradled my head, she gently squeezed her right breast, spraying milk into my mouth and over my face. The taste was pleasant and not at all disgusting, as I had assumed it would be. She placed the large, elongated nipple to my lips, and for the first time since my infant years, I nursed.

I then found just how weak I had become, because after a few minutes, I could no longer draw the milk from her. She allowed me to rest, and then again placed the nipple to my lips. By this method, I consumed the first food in an unknown number of days, and by the time she left, I felt much stronger.

This feeling was not to last for much longer, because as soon as evening fell, the young woman sat beside me, gently held my organ, and began to stimulate me to release. Upon my spending, she allowed me a short time to recover, and then began again. This treatment continued until I lost consciousness.

This routine continued for many days. As I became stronger, nursing took less time and effort, until after my count of five days, I could drain both of my wet nurse's breasts in about an hour. She began visiting my sickbed three times each day.

In-between my feedings, the young woman attempted to teach me her language. Since I had nothing else to occupy my time, other than my nursing sessions and the nightly treatments from the young woman, I learned quickly. After two weeks, I could converse on a limited level, and asked the young woman how I came to be in the village, and why I was tied. Her words were not in English, or course, but I have roughly translated them.

"I found you, nearly dead, on the river bank. Because my father was of your kind, I brought you to this village and to the old wise one. He is older than anyone knows, and has many cures for sickness. It is said that he can bring the dead back to life, and I asked him to save you. The old wise one said that he might bring the life back to you, if you were strong enough to bear the vipers kiss. He came to look at you, and decided that since you are young and strong, you might endure the treatment.

"The viper's kiss?"

"The old wise one came to the Great River from far to the North with many of his people, in times older than ten generations. The people of that land were driven out by white-skinned Gods riding strange animals. The old wise one's people fled before any were killed, and traveled south until they reached the river. They learned to live with the river, but kept the medicine of their old home.

One of these medicines is the viper with a feathered head. This viper was known as the source of life to the old ones. The vipers lived in a hidden cave, high on a hillside, and the location was known only to the wise ones of the people. When they fled, each wise one brought a feathered viper. The old wise one is the last of his people, and the viper is the last of those brought to the river."

"Since the feathered viper is the source of life, it can return life to the dead, or to those almost dead. It does so by biting them with its single fang. The fluid that comes from the fang restores life, but the viper must bite the root of life of the person, and the root must be extended as if making life itself. That is the treatment the old wise one gave to you, and you have returned to life."

"Why am I tied? I would harm no one."

She looked away for a moment, as if deciding if she should answer my question.

"The viper's kiss does more than give life. One who receives the kiss of life from the viper is no longer a person. The person is transformed into a viper that walks on two legs, and can never die. The old wise one received the viper's kiss, and still lives after coming to the river so long ago. Nothing can harm the person with the viper's kiss, and you will live forever without changing the way you are today.

It also makes the ability and desire to make life many times as strong as it is in ordinary people. Until you understand how to control this desire and ability, you are a danger to the village. Since nothing can harm you, we could not stop you once you start. Each night, I cause you to spend your seed with my hands and mouth to take away the desire that you can not yet control."

I wanted to ask in what ways I had become a viper, but at that moment, my wet nurse appeared at our side, her breasts heavy with milk, and ready to feed me. She sat by my side, and I was proud to lift my own head and rest it on her thigh. My other caretaker left to do some other task. The woman lowered her breast, and I began to nurse.

For some reason, I began to slide my tongue over the firm nipple as I sucked the life giving fluid. This simple action evidently disturbed the woman, because she began to move her hips in small motions. After a few minutes, the motions became larger, and I noticed a certain harshness in her breathing.

I soon became aware of her hand brushing aside the small apron she wore, and then felt the hand moving against the back of my head. The hip motions increased, and she began to make small sounds. It was then that I noticed a change in myself. My organ had risen to full height.

I had not had the strength to hold my head so high before today, and when I saw the swollen thing, I was taken aback. Its length and girth were as I saw possessed by the old wise one, but I had attributed that to my mental state. This time, I was in full possession of my senses, and was shocked at the gross size of the thing. Although I had not seriously considered fathering children, since I was yet too young to marry, I was in dismay at the sight, because such an engine would surely injure any woman if put to it's intended use.

At that time, the young woman came back, and made a gasp of shock. She quickly fell to her knees and began massaging, licking and suckling on my member with such vigor that I quickly spewed forth my essence and lay exhausted once again. My wet nurse moaned and convulsed several times, calmly changed one breast for the other, and my feeding continued as if nothing had transpired.