It’s dangerous to look at a lamia. That’s what you were told. You can’t remember why, but you suspect you should stop staring into her swirling, colorful eyes, following her beauty with every ounce of attention, each vivid ring relaxing you, softening your mind, so easy to sink . . . but you don’t want to look away. Not yet. You’re sure it’s safe to look for a brief period of time, to enjoy these charming colors loosening up your head and body.
“Sleep little human . . .” sings the lamia. She twirls her head in a circle and you follow her eyes, a soft dizziness growing as you try to keep up. Sleep sounds so nice right now, but you want to keep looking at the lamia, just for a little while, then you’ll sleep before it stops being safe to stare.
“Gaze at me . . .” she sings. Yes, it’s still safe to stare into her pulsating eyes. You’ll know when it becomes dangerous to keep looking, but not yet, no, a little more, nothing wrong with a little more of the colors, it feels so good, you’re so relaxed, soft, at ease with following her, you want to soak up as much of this feeling as you can before you look away, but you have plenty of time before then, plenty of time to stare, it’s still perfectly safe.
You feel scales slide over your legs and around your hips and gasp. Is the lamia wrapping you up? The scales hold your arms down and loop around you, soft and gentle but growing thicker and tighter as she rises. It feels like a close hug, but you can’t move. Perhaps now is the time to look away, but you still stare into her colorful eyes. You consider that there’s no danger in being wrapped up by a lamia.
Yes, you tell yourself, the lamia’s silken scales sliding softly around you, her tail growing heavy and hugging you like a sweet friend, it’s perfectly safe to be wrapped up in a lamia’s thick, strong coils while you stare deeply into her beautiful streaming eyes flowing intense color into your mind. You’ll need to look away soon to stay safe, but no one ever said you couldn’t spend all night in her squeezing embrace, each caressing loop cuddling you higher in a tighter, thicker, endlessly encompassing hug.
It’s . . . It’s dangerous to look, but only for too long. It doesn’t matter how deep you look; it’s perfectly safe to have the lamia and her eyes the only thing you see as she leans closer, filling your gaze with her, her colors the only thing on your mind. There’s nothing dangerous about being held tightly in a friendly lamia’s rising, growing coils, completely unable to move. Held perfectly still. Unable to look away.
You can’t look away . . .
But it’s okay that you can’t look away. Yes, it’s not dangerous that your gaze is stuck—it’s, it’s fine if you’re unable to look away from a lamia’s eyes as long as you don’t want to.
“Sleep,” she whispers. You’ll need to look away eventually. “Stare . . .” But it’s not dangerous yet. It’s safe to let yourself be just a little bit hypnotized . . .
Your mouth spreads into a smile as her rising coils grow as heavy around your torso as your mind feels. Her heavy tail around your waist is just as wide, growing as she slides up in circles caressing your arms, rubbing your back. When her tail tip passes by she strokes your chin and you shiver, and in response she squeezes tighter.
Your eyes droop. There’s no danger in letting yourself be somewhat hypnotized . . .
Your head feels light yet sluggish, your thoughts slow but airy. You feel giggly, bubbly, everything moving in slow motion, just giving you more time to enjoy the beautiful colors, but you don’t know how long you’ve been gazing at her. It’s dangerous to stare at a lamia, right? How dangerous was it supposed to be? On some level you know you’re being hypnotized, but it feels so good, you’re sure it’s safe to let yourself become a little hypnotized, nothing wrong with experiencing some hypnosis. Just to let your thoughts melt a little, focus on the lamia, let the lamia fill your mind and become everything.
It’s important to stay on the edge of consciousness, but it’s perfectly safe to become mostly hypnotized.
As long as you still have some remaining thoughts . . .
The lamia looks closely into your eyes, her eyes wide. You stare back, your smile wide.
It’s perfectly safe to be almost completely . . .
The lamia puckers her lips and moves in to kiss you.
Allowing yourself to be nearly entirely hypnotized isn’t . . .
As her coils loop around your neck and squeeze, resting heavily on your shoulders and down your body encircled by her thick, scaly embrace, she wraps her arms around your head and pulls you in for a deep, thought-melting kiss.
You no longer care if it’s dangerous. All you want now is to stare at the lamia, love her, be hypnotized by her, give in, obey, sleeeeeep . . .
I question if you ever cared whether it was dangerous or just rationalizing your continued staring.
Some of that might’ve been hypnotic mind-changing.
Well, anyway, it doesn’t particularly matter what the lamia does to you now—you’ll embrace it, your mind turned only to her. It’s dangerous in the jungle, but you don’t care—some dangers you relish in. But in case you want to find a slightly less dangerous path (quite difficult out here), check out another path!
Duth Olec's Cuckoo Cosmos 