Don't Think You Can Slither Out of This One, Twilight
Rare was it that Twilight Sparkle could ever find herself admitting a subject of study was unappealing.
Oh, she knew the rumors well. Ponies didn’t exactly do a great job when it came to subtlety. Gossip? Ha! Could one even call it such when their “whispers” were as inconspicuous as a troupe of dancing hippos through a china shop?
Little Twilight Sparkle can’t resist sticking her nose in any book she can find.
The little princess can’t help herself. Can’t stop studying.
Does she just dream up things to research? Is there anything she won’t devote ridiculous sums of her life to peeling apart, layer by layer, until she knows every secret? Can’t she just go out and live?
That last one hurt the most, to be honest. Sure, Twilight could admit her addiction. Her friends helped her through it, in a way—they respected her passion, her love for study, and made certain she had ample time to enjoy herself. Why, Rainbow Dash would even renew vows to throttle some pony if they got too lippy about it each time some meager excuse for a tabloid rag managed to say something cutting.
But they also knew when to pull her outside and away from it all. And, right about now, Twilight was really wishing they would. This, after all, wasn’t a subject she chose. It was one she’d been given by… a higher authority. The only one who could spark that fire with a look or word, the perfect enticements to guide her toward an open flame, if willed.
A low chuckle drew a flick of her ear. She felt soft lips press against her cheek, just near the corner of her mouth. “Rambling in your own head isn’t going to convince me to let you off the hook, love,” Luna chided.
“It might,” Twilight grumped, pouting.
“It shan’t.” Another kiss drew a whine. “None of that. It’s high time you availed yourself of this fear, especially if we’re ever to meet with one of their kind.”
“Maybe I don’t want to. So the point is moot.”
“And what if they should ask for the Princess of Friendship? Would you insult them so?”
Damn. “I might.”
“Liar.” A third kiss, this time drawing a pleading look. “You would go, and you would freeze and stammer through whatever you were meant to say.”
There came troubles, you know, when you had one specific partner as long as Twilight had Luna. Three years, nearly. A year would have been enough, one might have said, but that had been a sort of grace period whilst Luna managed to complete her acclimation to the modern world. The next had been spent in a sort of feeling out period. Romance, a hybrid of old and new.
What Twilight hadn’t realized was, beneath that old-fashioned romantic in Luna, was quite the mischief maker. A lover who delighted in seeing the heat rise in her cheeks, and then her wings.
And knew all her tells.
Not to mention, all her fears.
Thus, her study was a mess of books. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books, all focused on herpetology, taxonomy, and—oh, how the thought made her shiver—lamias.
Snakes.
Why, oh why, did it have to be snakes?
“C-Can’t you or Celestia just treat with them?” Twilight turned to regard her lover, that beautiful midnight-blue face of hers, covered with dapples as black as a moonless sky and ran from the tip of her nose to her flank. A look into those old, teal eyes could work. If she could just get the right look, the right amount of quiver in her bottom lip.
She failed.
For Luna simply smiled and kissed her, then nipped at her nose. “Can, yes. But someday, you might be called upon.” Her horn lit a bright, shimmering teal, and cupped Twilight’s cheek with magic. “Would you not rather confront your fear while you have control? Or would you prefer I inquire as to whether dear Fluttershy has any of her serpentine friends in residence?”
Twilight blanched. Not that she didn’t trust Fluttershy’s animal friends—far from it. But… well, other than the bigger dragons, Fluttershy’s idea of what constituted as a “cute” animal could be rather…
Well, the boa had been rather affectionate until Twilight realized he was hoping for a meal and thought it prudent to give a little squeeze around her sides to prompt her to call Fluttershy. From then on, Mr. Snuggles was not getting any snuggles from Twilight, no matter how the dear pegasus assured her he’d only meant to play a little and that he was so sweet she even let him cuddle up while she slept sometimes, or how he tried to make puppy eyes at her from behind the couch.
A shiver ran to the tip of her tail. “Still…”
“Yes. I understand.” Luna pressed her nose against Twilight’s cheek, her smile kind and supportive. “But there are some fears we all must overcome. Or shall I remind you of your efforts to ensure I would know no peace whenever any of your friends caught wind that I shied from the public light?”
Damn. Who had tattled on her?
Probably Pinkie or Rarity. No Pinkie Promises had been involved in the secrecy portion of their agreement, so telling under pressure? Well, if it should spare them Luna’s icy gaze and stern frown, they just might.
Come to think of it, Applejack couldn’t hold a poker face if her life depended on it either.
Twilight blew a breath through her nose. “Fine. I’ll do it,” she groused, crossing her forelegs over her chest like a petulant foal. “But I’m going to hate every second of it.”
Luna chuckled and nipped at her cheek. “Don’t be a brat, love. You’ll be fine.”
Of course. She would see it through, just like when she used the same spell to turn herself and her friends into Breezies. And Luna was right by her side.
But scales and coils and snake tails. The mere thought, the mere visual of herself with a long, serpentine bottom starting from her waist and cool, smooth coils spurred a shiver. Stop thinking about it! Just do it!
Twilight took a deep breath and brought a hoof to her chest, holding it in a moment. Just like Cadence taught her. She released it, flipping through one of the books until she reached the right page.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s just… do this before I lose my nerve.”
Luna kissed her cheek. “You’ll be fine, love.” The Princess of Night stepped back with a smile so Twilight might have room to work free of distraction.
A loss of comforting warmth. And, soon, a warmth she might well crave depending on how true longstanding information on lamias was…
She pushed magic into her horn, the familiar raspberry glow bathing their study in its light. Twilight let the spell wrap around her body, her eyes staying focused on the image on the page: a pony torso, head, forehooves, and a meeting at the waist where soft pony coat gave way to smooth, cold scales.
A tingling sensation ran down her waist like a trickle of water. Twilight could feel something tugging at her dock, pulling at her lower half as though it was made of clay. An ethereal breeze blew across her tail—she could feel the chill, like she had been shaven and left in naught but bare skin.
Twilight stumbled, her balance lost. She managed to catch herself on her forehooves before her hind parts twisted and fell limp. Somewhere behind her, there was a meaty smack against the crystalline floor and a clatter. A small vial of a shimmering icy-blue liquid rolled to a halt near her scaled midriff.
Scaled. Her belly was lined with those long, horizontal scales which made up every snake or lamia’s underside, her own a shade of dusty purple just a few shades lighter than her coat. Or, now, her actual body.
“Oh!” Luna gasped. “Oh, my! That’s certainly a lovely change.”
Her fascination was… well, shared, but with a certain fearful claw gripping Twilight’s chest. She sucked in her lips, mindful of any chance that she might have given herself fangs, and tried to figure out how to maneuver her… tail? Coils?
Coils.
And oh, by the stars, did she have coils.
Twilight’s new, scaly lower half was the same color as her coat, her scales a crisscrossing pattern which seemed to draw a rather seductive trailing of light along the length of her body. Upon her back? Yes, her back. Upon her back, the familiar pink starburst and six white, pointed stars was worn proudly and repeated all the way down, growing larger the closer the pattern drew to her stomach—gosh! What an odd thing to realize, that one’s stomach was nearly ten feet from where it had once been!—and smaller and smaller, until it was but a tiny pink splotch upon the tip of her tail. Curious, she tried to flick her tail, and instead sent a third of it whipping across the room and promptly knocked over a nearby stack of books.
It had worked.
She was actually a lamia.
A stinging chill along her underside highlighted a new problem—crystal floors.
Twilight let out a yelp and tried to gather her coils together, any means she could find to preserve some warmth in her body. But to no avail! All she could do was try to drag her new length—and, oh, was it a considerable new length!—across that icy floor to try and somehow work herself into one of those neatly rolled up coilings she’d seen in books or pictures.
She heard Luna’s hooves against the floor. “Love? What’s the matter? Talk to me.”
“Cold!” she hissed with far too much natural sibilance to her tone for comfort. “So cold! Need warmth!”
Luna gave an understanding hum. “That might be the cold-bloodedness. You’ll need something warm to regulate your body heat.”
Yes, everypony knew that much. The barb leapt to the tip of her tongue—was it forked now?—but she managed to bite it back. Luna had no idea. None at all how it actually felt to be cold-blooded, sitting upon a crystalline floor.
It wasn’t her fault, either. Luna wasn’t the one who’d just gone from warm to cold-blooded in a manner of seconds. Who, reasonably, could expect her to have any context for such a change?
The Princess of Night stepped around her shoddy attempt at coiling herself and looped a hoof around Twilight’s ankle. “Let’s try getting you off this floor, then. Somewhere carpeted, I think, will help.”
“Okay.” Twilight swallowed. “How?”
“What?”
“Moving. How?”
“Er… slithering, I should think.”
She didn’t get it.
Twilight fixed her with a meaningful look. “Luna, how do I slither?”
The mares stared at one another for a moment. Luna let her gaze flick between Twilight, her coils, and the floor.
“I… is it not simply a sort of…” Luna bit her lip and wiggled her hips. “Sort of thing?”
Her ears flattening against her mane, Twilight glanced over her shoulder toward the length of her tail and gave it a try.
A chair burst into splinters against the wall.
Luna had the grace to give a nervous laugh. “Very well, perhaps not wiggling.” She summoned a book and gave it a quick glance over. “Er, it says that slithering is an act performed with the muscles. Though on smoother surfaces, snakes and lamias tend to perform a motion called reticulation, to make up for the lack of friction.”
The term drew a little flicker of memory. Twilight had read it somewhere. “It’s… sort of a caterpillar motion, right?”
“So it seems. Though, less full inching, more… muscles tensing and sort of crawling?” Luna offered a smile. “Give it a try?”
Twilight glanced down at herself and gave a nervous little groan. “Couldn’t you just, like, carry me?”
“Oh, come now! Wouldn’t that defeat the entire purpose of this exercise?”
“This was to help me get over my fears! Not… struggle with moving!”
“Understanding is the key to defeating fear.” Those ancient teal eyes sparkled. “Try it.”
To her credit, Twilight did at least give what might have passed as a solid effort. Well. For a hatchling, perhaps. If they didn’t have the instincts snakes possessed upon hatching and had to struggle with the effort for the first few steps. Er. Slithers?
She managed to reticulate herself toward the door by about a foot. Maybe two.
She sagged. “Can you please just do it? I’m not inch worming myself until I hit carpet!”
Though Luna chuckled, she nodded. “Very well.” Her magic slipped beneath Twilight’s lengthy body and lifted, but stopped just short. “Oh! Oh, my. Love, er, this is—”
“If you call me fat, I swear!” Twilight stomped her hoof. “I’ll… I’ll sleep on the couch!”
“No, no, not fat. But… well, I didn’t expect you to have such size and girth in this form, since you’re normally so small.”
Anger flooded her chest. Twilight glared at her wife through slitted eyes and bared her teeth, meaning to growl just a little to voice her displeasure.
Instead, a sibilant hiss filled the room and made both of them splay their ears.
They stared.
“Did I just…”
“Yes.” Luna blinked. “And bared fangs.”
Twilight swallowed and licked her lips—and found that her tongue was, in fact, forked. “How about we just pretend that never happened and I make snickerdoodles tonight?”
“For snickerdoodle bribery, I have suddenly developed short-term memory loss. Must be my age.”
She lifted Twilight in the air with all the effort of a mother carrying her newborn foal. No, wait, that was weird. Like any mare lifting a bag of groceries. Sensibly so, when one considered she’d been raising and moving the moon through the night sky for who-knows-how-long!
Luna bore her wife-turned-temporary-lamia out of the study and through the hall, sparing a moment to enjoy a snicker at the way Spike gaped and walked straight into a wall with his arms laden with scrolls piled up to his dorsal fin.
“I daresay he didn’t expect something quite like this when we said we’d work on your fears,” she mused, leaning up to nuzzle beneath Twilight’s chin. “Did you see his face?”
Rolling her eyes, Twilight nipped at her nose, fearful of what might happen if she tried flicking her tail at her wife. “You’re terrible. We didn’t even know what to expect.”
“And yet, I am not wrong, am I?”
Luna took a right at the end of the hallway and trotted into their living room. Well, one of several which could qualify as such in the palace. This one, though, was theirs. Smaller, intimate, fitted with a welcoming rug with a lovely depiction of Luna’s night sky and moon, with little bat wings cleverly woven into the silver border: something Twilight had commissioned some time ago, so she would have a bit of Luna with her even when duties might call her from Twilight’s side. Their couch was a lovely purple, just a shade or two darker than Twilight’s own, like the sky at sunset.
How appropriate for the couple.
Closing the door behind them with an idle flick of her magic, Luna eyed Twilight a moment, frowning just slightly as she glanced between her wife-turned-lamia, and said, “I’m just going to set you on the carpet for now. It might be easier to let you try moving and then see about letting you rest.”
“You think I’ll need rest after a little slithering about?” Twilight arched a brow. “I’m not Rainbow Dash, but I’m not that out of shape.”
“And how did you feel after your first flight with those wings?” At Twilight’s wince, Luna grinned. “Exactly.”
She set Twilight down on the rug as gently as she could, mindful of her full length and lack of hind legs to catch herself. Luna took a step back and glanced around the room. “It won’t be a very lengthy slithering, but perhaps you could try once or twice around the room?”
Twilight followed her gaze, frowning. It didn’t seem too much of a challenge.
Then again, when trying to reticulate yourself to the door only got you a foot or so from your original position, perhaps Luna had a point.
Now, how did all those books say slithering worked again? It wasn’t just a wiggle of hips, as Luna so helpfully surmised. It was more… a series of muscular tightenings and contractions, an undulating motion, to be precise.
Yes, that was it.
Undulating.
Twilight tried to focus and think of how she’d seen a few snakes, Mr. Snuggles included, slithering about. They didn’t wiggle from any one point, their muscles guided every motion just as surely as pegasus wings worked.
She looked down and began with the slightest tightening of her muscles just below her waistline, focusing herself on the effort of simply pushing off against the carpet and trying to let the motion flow through her length. Sure enough, her long, serpentine body moved, the motion drawing a sound like a body sliding onto a mattress.
Her ears perked. Twilight felt a smile begin to bloom across her features. She bit her lip—mindful that she might very well do herself an oral injury with those fangs—and tried the motion again, this time trying to make it continuous, rearing up so she didn’t have to worry about her hooves catching on the rug. A slight sway in her posture spurred Luna to cast a bit of quick magic to hold her by the elbows.
“Thanks,” she murmured, her mind still occupied on her goal. So this was how they moved about their environment. Not by some strange, alien motion, but a body working in concert. Natural beauty.
Heavens, she could never confess that to Fluttershy, or Twilight was certain she’d become designated snake friend whenever snake friends showed up in her cottage.
She bumped nose-first into the wall and gave a surprised hiss. “Not a word!” she ordered, pointing back at Luna.
“Those had better be cream sandwich snickerdoodles to buy silence, then.”
Of course. Ever since mom had made them on their last visit and told her of Twilight’s favorite foalhood snack, Luna had been gnawing on her ears to have them made again.
Twilight pressed her hooves against the wall to help her push off and wheeled her forelegs once to help regain her balance. A bit more easily managed, this time, she noticed. All she had to do was keep in mind that her center of gravity was lower and her waistline was not the natural end of her body. Rather, it was more like a pivot joint atop the rest.
Fighting to keep herself pitched forward and slightly raised off the ground was more the challenge with these new muscles, and a tiring one at that. In combination with the focus it already took just to move herself around the room, maintaining that concert of muscles and flowing motion, was, as Luna predicted, every bit as exhausting an effort as her first attempts at flight.
After a couple circuits around the room, Twilight found, much to her delight, that she was starting to get the hang of this change in motor mechanics. Why, she could even begin to rear up higher and balance without Luna’s aid!
And speaking of Luna.
A devilish idea took root in Twilight’s head. How many times had she found herself the so-called victim of Luna’s wicked teasing? Constantly swept into wing and hoof and held tight and teased for being oh-so-very-small by comparison? Yet now, the roles were quite reversed.
By her calculations, Twilight now had a good four or five feet on Luna. When would such an opportunity ever arise again?
She could recall the mechanics of a snake striking. How they would draw back a small portion of their neck and upper coils into an “S” shape, ready to spring forth quicker than the eye could follow. Twilight kept Luna in her field of vision, the mare having found mild interest in the way Twilight’s tail trailed along after the length of her body, and prepared, fighting the urge to hold up her hooves before her and give some wicked grin that might warn her wife what awaited.
“Hey, Luna?” she called.
Humming, Luna flicked an ear in her direction. “Yes, Twi—eek!”
A playful hiss had been her only warning before Twilight shot across the carpet and picked her straight up off the floor into a tight embrace, laughing and nuzzling into the crook of the squirming alicorn’s neck. She held Luna tight and licked her cheek.
“All this time you’ve delighted in doing this to me. Sweeping me up.” Twilight kissed the spot, her grin spreading. “Holding me while I squirmed and kissing and licking my cheeks and nose. And now, it’s my turn—I’m cashing in while I’m bigger!” She nuzzled and kissed every inch of Luna’s face, neck, and ears she could, paying special attention to those lovely dapples, her mirth a delightful hiss and thumping of her massive tail against the couch.
Sputtering and laughing through vows of retribution, Luna tried to wriggle free so she might turn the tables. Ever the more dominant of their pairing, eager to see Twilight crooning beneath her ministrations again.
Oh, no, no, no. Not after you pushed me to do this lamia thing.
Twilight took one of Luna’s ears in her mouth and suckled, purring as she carefully began to maneuver her coils around her beautiful wife’s hindquarters and waist, and just up to her belly to keep those lovely wings folded tight against her sides. A little tickle of tail tip drove Luna to a fit of giggles. The perfect chance to give a little squeeze.
All coiled up.
“Mine now!” Twilight sang, pecking her nose. She hesitated a moment, adding, “This isn’t too tight, is it?”
Luna huffed, her cheeks aflame and a smile ruining her feigned outrage. “No,” she admitted. Pink colored the tips of her ears. “I-It’s actually quite lovely. And warm.”
“Good. And yes, it is.” Another kiss, this time to the lips, lingering while she savored the moment. “Yes, you are.” The tip of her tail slid up to caress Luna’s cheek. Twilight licked her lips and murmured, “And I’d like to enjoy this a little longer.”
To her delight, Luna’s squirm was one of anticipation. “I… would not be opposed to a serpentine wife. On a temporary basis. Occasional, even, er, so long as it helps to allay your, um, fears.”
Twilight’s reply came in the form of a deep purr and a deeper kiss. She cupped Luna’s cheeks in her hooves, the end of her tail cradling her wife’s head as she shifted her weight and guided Luna to recline. Not on the rug, of course.
Not when there were another ten feet or so of her coils yet unoccupied and waiting to serve a temporary pillow for a beautiful mare.
Nerves would not allow her respite even after her hoof had rapped thrice against the wooden door. Her knees trembled and tail twitched, seemingly desperate to tuck itself between her legs like she was some sort of scolded puppy.
Inside, she could hear the familiar chattering of all sorts of animals, the rustle of birds’ wings as they flitted from one perch to another, and some playful growling and roughhousing from a couple dogs, punctuated by a cat wryly yowling in commentary.
This was so much easier when she’d turned herself into a damn lamia. Then, it had been her in control of… well, it hadn’t been instinct. Instinct would’ve made slithering, reticulating, and coiling Luna without having to readjust each time she got a little too excited and squeezed just a tad too hard a lot easier. Or, well, the hissing.
For just about everything.
Luna hadn’t stopped giggling about “sleepy hissing.” Even days later.
Stupid lamias can’t just yawn like normal, apparently.
Through the door, Twilight could hear hoofsteps thumping against the wooden floor. She fidgeted and shifted about and cast a glance back up the long dirt path leading back into town. Galloping would be rude, at this point. Flying? Either way, she’d be seen. Teleporting though…
The latch clicked open, drawing a flinch.
No, she couldn’t do that. Not to a friend.
Fluttershy pulled the door open, her aquamarine eyes lit with recognition. “Twilight! This is a pleasant surprise!” Her feathers fluttered a little. Engagement and attentiveness, and a relaxing in her posture to show the truth in her words. She stepped to the side and beckoned with a little flick of a wing. “Come in, would you care for tea?”
Again, Twilight fought against her tail’s attempts to betray her nerves. “Er. Yes, that would be nice.” She bit her lip. “Mr. Snuggles wouldn’t happen to be in, would he?”
Over Fluttershy’s shoulder and across the room, laying in a small wicker basket with plush bedding one might give a large dog, she saw Mr. Snuggles laying his head atop his verdant coils. His head raised upon hearing her voice, and his tongue flickered. Curious.
“Oh. Um, yes he is.” The smile faded from Fluttershy’s face. “Would you like me to ask him to leave? Or just stay away this time?”
An affirmation leapt to the tip of her tongue, quickly quashed by a surge of will.
Twilight swallowed her nerves. “I… would rather the opposite.” Her gaze fell to the ground at her hooves, sparing her that surprised look. “Trying to get over a fear. Trying. So, I would like to, um… sit with him while we talk.” She glanced up, muttering, “If he’s willing.”
Flicker, flicker, flicker, went that forked tongue. If Mr. Snuggles could smile, Twilight daresay it might have been hopeful.
Fluttershy did in his stead. She leaned down to nuzzle Twilight’s cheek. “I’m sure he’d like that very much. He loves making new friends.”
The boa seemed to perform a slithering dance over to the couch.
A hesitant smile tugged at Twilight’s lips. She stepped through the doorway and headed over to join him. Showoff.
Author's Note
Totally not my fault. Blame the aforementioned nerds.
