Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Cherry gives up on the fourth try, and honestly, so do I.

She’s been at it for the last twenty minutes, trying to work some kind of succubus mojo on me, biting her lip, batting her eyes, doing this weird hip wiggle thing that I think is supposed to be seductive but mostly just looks like she’s trying not to pee. Every time it fizzles out into nothing.

Now she’s just slumped against my coils, arms crossed, bottom lip stuck out so far a bird could land on it.

"Nope," she mutters. "I give up, it’s never gonna work on you anyway."

I plop my head down right on top of hers, chin resting between her little horn stumps.

"It’s fine," I say. "Just sleep. We’ll clean this mess up in the morning, then I’ll head off."

The second the word "off" leaves my mouth, she goes rigid.

"Off? Off where? You’re leaving?"

"Just for some stuff, nothing crazy."

"Take me with you!"

"My life is dangerous, Cherry."

"I don’t care, I don’t care, take me anyway, please."

"You can come," I mutter, and she stops mid-panic, blinking up at me like I just handed her the moon. "I just mean it’s dangerous, so don’t expect it to be a picnic."

She melts back down into my coils, relieved, nuzzling into the warm scales like a cat finding a sunny spot.

And that’s when my brain decides now is a great time to be honest.

I glance off to the side, at nothing in particular, because apparently eye contact is too much for what I’m about to say.

"Well," I say, humming a little, stalling, "I do have another girl too. Just so you know."

Cherry tilts her head at me, completely unbothered.

"So?"

"So, look. I have another girl. One who’s... like you. Important to me."

"Okay? Who cares?"

My thoughts stalled. What was this? What did she mean? "You don’t care?"

She giggles, this stupid cute little giggle, hiding her mouth behind one hand like I just said something adorable and old.

"Omg, you’re so old-fashioned," she says. "Pretty much every guy has a few wives these days. You sound like my great-grandpa."

"I- what?"

"It’s normal now! The more the merrier!" She cuddles back into me, tail flicking happily. "I wanna meet her! We can be like a team! The snake Empire!"

I don’t even know what to say to that, so I let out a low, guttural sound, like a confused engine trying to turn over.

She stretches up, presses her lips near my ear, and whispers, soft and warm, "As long as you’re honest, it’s okay."

"Okay, but you don’t even know my name," I mumble.

She curls up tighter, humming to herself, already halfway to sleep, completely fine, completely calm, like I didn’t just admit to having a second bonded woman in my life.

[System: Mate. Mate. She’s fine with it. She’s actually fine with it.]

I know, I know, shut up-.

[System: This is it. This is what you’ve been secretly hoping for this whole time, isn’t it, ya sick freak? A harem, legal and approved. No drama, nothing. And she’s over here planning merch.]

Shut up, Old Mate.

[System: I’m just saying, most blokes dream of this. You’re out here living it and internally combusting like a nun at a strip club.]

Cherry snuggles against my scales, dead asleep now, drooling slightly on my ribs, completely oblivious to the fact that my insides are currently doing cartwheels.

I hum tunelessly, low in my throat, staring at the ceiling.

Heaven, apparently, smells like burnt spice oil and looks like a trashed room with a sleeping succubus drooling on my ribs.

I could get used to this.

———-

Old Mate sounds like he just woke up from a four-hour nap with a hangover, and now he’s screaming in my head.

[System: Now you got the woman, and your proclaimed mafia prince! It’s time to work for it!]

What does that mean? I’ve been working for it.

[System: Ya need people experience; you’re an awkward bastard! Set up a shop in Twawi and learn customer manipulation, people management, and some haggling.]

What will I sell? How will I get the stock?

[System: use your brain ya drop kick.]

ahhh fuck, alright.

[System: C’mon, mate. This one’s not even hard. Stop getting your arse handed to ya by minotaurs. If you can’t run a street stall, you can’t run an empire.]

There’s no empire; I have no interest in empires. I’m a snake with a girlfriend and a body count, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Cherry’s still asleep, wrapped around my neck. Her tail is coiled under my hood, her horns poking me in the cheek every time she snuffles. I don’t want to move her; I don’t want to get up. I want to marinate in the warm, post-fight, new-relationship glow for as long as possible.

Did I say I was content? I lied. It feels weird not always doing something, and I’m starving. My stomach is making noises that could register on seismic equipment.

It hits me like a bus: I would literally sell my soul for a skewer of spicy lamb.

It’s not a metaphor. I would hand over my entire harem for one perfect, charred, greasy, mouth-scalding lamb stick.

[System: You want more shiela’s? More power? A reputation that’ll outlive your next run in? Get out there and hustle, you wanker.]

I am already out there. I’m living in the fucking sewer. I just had a battle with a minotaur, a landlord, and 3 orc debt collectors.

It’s a memory from my human life. The food stalls under the old city bridge, just before the late shift, grimy, illegal, universally disrespected, and absolutely packed. There was one old guy, always in a tracksuit, who served skewers so spicy they made your gums bleed. It was heaven.

I miss heaven, and I’ll sell that exact heaven to these rats.

[System: And fuck off, you’d trade Lyra and Cherry for a lamb skewer, you freak.]