You walk up to the house, holding Lila’s hand as she slithers next to you. She’s been fidgety and nervous the entire way over here.

“I’ve never introduced any of my friends to her,” she says. “She can be a bit much. A lot of a bit much.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you say. “At least, as long as she likes me. Do you think she’ll like me?”

Lila gives a sigh that turns into a chuckle.

“I’m sure she’ll like you. That’s what I’m worried about. Just don’t let her get up into any mischief, okay? We’re here.”

You arrive at a villa, and it is indeed a villa. Lila never talks about her finances, but she’s always been willing to chip in when you or another friend his financial trouble. You always assumed she made a lot of money from videos, having such a hypnotic voice—though you didn’t want to assume her hypnotic eyes had anything to do with that.

Now you wonder how much her parents have. You can see a pool to the side that makes Lila’s look like a puddle, and behind the sparkling white house big enough to get lost in appears to be enough trees to make a jungle to get very lost.

“Okay,” Lila says, “here we go.” She enters the front door, no knock or doorbell, and you follow, still holding her hand.

It’s a soft hand. Maybe you think about holding it a lot. Maybe you think about holding her tail, or her tail holding you, but you’ve remained just friends.

The front room might be half the size of your entire living quarters, which you suppose makes sense—lamias would want a lot of room to move around—but it makes Lila’s home look dinky in comparison, too.

“Hey, Mom!” Lila says to the empty room—not counting all the sofas and tables. It looks like a place to host a party. “It’s Lila!”

“My sweet Lila, it’s so wonderful to see you!”

Lila’s mother slithers in from another room, arms outstretched. Her bright outfit seems like a ray of sunlight to the world, to say nothing of all her jewelry around her arms and neck. Even her tail looks a little brighter than Lila’s, though her skin is of a slightly darker tone.

“It’s good to see–” Lila’s response disappears in her mother’s hug, which seems to engulf her. Her hand slips from yours as her mother squeezes her tight.

“I know you’re busy, my sweet girl, but you really must make more time for your dear parents. Oh, but your latest videos have been so stunning, you have your mother’s gift of song! Have you been eating well? You must keep your strength up, and your tail can always use the extra weight.”

Lila makes a muffled response to each remark, which her mother seems to understand. When she lets go Lila gasps.

“Oh, Mom.” Lila smiles and gestures to you. “This is my friend I told you about.” You extend a hand for greeting.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pachis–”

Lila’s mother grabs you in a hug, and it’s like her chest is a black hole. You can’t escape the grip of her thick arms. They don’t even seem that muscular, she’s just big enough to hold you against her.

“Oh, please, dear, no need to be formal! Please, call me Cora! It’s so wonderful to meet one of my dear Lila’s friends!”

Your orientation spins as Cora’s soft flesh squeezes around you like firm pillows, breathing difficult. You always thought lamias’ tails were stronger than the human end of their bodies, so you can’t imagine how strong Cora’s tail must be. She goes on about how healthy and strong you look, and how you must eat well, but you can always eat better and offers you something to eat and drink and more before Lila clears her throat. Cora lets go of you, and you gasp like Lila did.

“Th-Thank you, ma’am. Cora,” you say.

“Of course, and you did come to help me out,” Cora says, “and thank you so much for that, I am really grateful. Did you want to get started?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, “I wanted to get an idea of what I’m dealing with.”

So far you’ve managed to get quite the impression of who you’re dealing with.

“I gotta go,” Lila said—you’d already planned that you’d help her mom while Lila got some errands of her own done—“but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“No problem,” you say with a smile. Cora pulls her daughter into another hug.

“Of course, my dear, we’ll have a splendid time, and perhaps we’ll even be done when you get back so we can properly spend a nice afternoon together!”

“Y-Yeah,” Lila says, pulling herself out of the bottomless hug, “that’d be great, mom, I’d love to!” Through her strain and nerves you can hear sincerity—she really does enjoy spending time with her mom. When she gets out of the hug she coughs and, with a scowl, points a finger at Cora. “But don’t show my friend any embarrassing old photos of me, please!”

“Oh, my dear!” Cora flutters a hand to Lila, but she looks at you and pulls an arm over your shoulders that you feel could break your neck if she wanted to. “That would be fun, wouldn’t it? I have the most adorable baby pictures of her, you would just love–”

“Mom!”

“You know,” Cora says with a grin and a glint, “I really could use some help organizing those old photos, too.”

“M-Maybe I should stay,” Lila says. She’s blushing.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. “You said you’ve been putting off these errands for a while, I won’t let her drag me into anything but the stuff we talked about.”

“Well . . .” Lila fidgets then shrugs. “Okay.”

“We’ll be fine,” Cora says with a wave. “I promise I won’t do anything you shouldn’t do.”

Isn’t the phrase “anything you wouldn’t do”? You don’t have much time to ponder that as Cora drags you into another room to help her with whatever it is you agreed to.

What did you agree to help you with? Well, I’m sorry to say, we’re not going to find out.

“So how long have you been dating my daughter?” Cora asks.

Your whole body flushes red.

“Dating? N-No, I—I haven’t b—d—da—there’s—no—noth—no—”

“Ah, you haven’t asked her out yet?” Cora gives a smirking grin. You’ve seen Lila smile plenty, but never like a . . . predator. “When are you going to, then?”

“I’m—I’m not—that is, she—Mrs. Pachis—”

“Cora.” As toothy as her smirk is, it still looks sweet. She slithers around the room, humming.

“I’m—please, understand me, I don’t have any intentions towards your daughter!”

“But you have the desires, so why not the intentions?”

“Huh?”

Cora slithers up close to you, and you back against a wall.

You suddenly remember she would have hypnotic eyes like her daughter.

“I see the way you look at my daughter, dear. I see the way she looks at you, too. She needs people in her coils, and I don’t believe she has anyone right now.” She leans closer, voice lower. “When I was her age I had someone in my coils every night.” She chuckles. “Rarely the same person, but there’s nothing wrong with something steady.” She winks. “But one of you need to say something, and I know my daughter is too shy.”

You stumble along the wall to put some distance between you, but Cora’s tail curls over your shoulders. It’s a grip that demands stillness. You were right—lamias have stronger tails than arms.

“Are you afraid you wouldn’t be enough for her, my dear?” Cora pulls you closer until you’re nose-to-nose and grins. “Because I could show you exactly how to please a lamia, if you please . . .”