Playtime For Sheba
	It is a grand day in the Republic of Navarre, more so than any other for today is the young emperor's accession to the throne. The first example of a peaceful transition of power from ruler to heir in the blood soaked nation's history and a powerful symbol of change and honor. Therefore, what better way to celebrate than to have burly teams of muscular men and well-trained beasts from exotic lands beat the ever-loving shit out of one another? 
	The arena is packed to capacity, even the Emperor's Booth left with standing room only after the praetorian guard learned of the nature of his chosen celebrations, and the rest of the nobility are scarcely better off than the proles, but all this matters little. The field is awash with discarded weapons and thrown laurels, blood and shields, all paying testament to the sheer scale of this most joyous conflict.
	Finally, however, the arena falls to a hush as a thick silken veil is drawn overtop of the arena. Only once before has such a precaution ever proven necessary despite the carnage, and the stony forms recoiling in horror about the outer ring pay testament to the seriousness of the danger. Old Sheba, the legendary Gorgon of Navarre herself, will be taking part in in the final battle. The call goes out, and the field empties. 
	On this day, only one creature has the boldness to face the terrifying creature that dwells beneath the amphitheatre. With only vague shapes visible through the veil, the audience's imagination runs wild. Who is this mystery challenger? A hulking warrior? A strange giant? Some manner of alien wizard? Surely they can only be the strongest and most cunning of their kind to take on the gorgon on her own terms!
***
	The guards at the Challenger's Entrance share a glance as they observe the only... 'person' brave enough to take the Emperor's Challenge. "Spend twenty minutes in the ring with Old Sheba" might sound like a trivial affair, until one realizes what precisely that entails. Old the creature might be, but the spectacular deaths of the last few warriors had proven that while one could defend from her gaze easily enough, defending oneself from an enraged trident-wielding snake while blinded was another problem altogether. Still, this beast was willing to attempt it, and every citizen's life was their own in Navarre.
	Stepping forth into the dim light of the shrouded arena, No Sa stands proudly, her tail wagging in the air. Wearing what seems to be a set of ceremonial armor far too small for her, the massive werewolf seems utterly self-confident in her abilities despite the thickly wrapped cloth across both eyes. Adjusting her small and rather useless helmet, the white-furred beastwoman steps forth, carefully scenting the air for a trace of her adversary. Then, the solid iron door at the opposite end of the arena shrieks open, and the smell hits her. 
	Not quite the same as the reptiles she'd been testing herself on for the past several weeks, a hint of something else layered within... pomegranate? The wolf cocks her head a moment, shouldering her great-flail and adjusting her satchel at the same time. What kind of snake wears perfume? 
	Sheba herself wastes no time at all in emerging from her own chambers. She has always been a loyal servant to the Imperial Line, but these games repulse her. Why send such pitiful fodder against her only to die at her talons or gaze? The serpent-haired creature howls in agony, raging at her accursed body and the painful solitude it brings her, before bursting through the still-opening doors, hoping that perhaps this time her adversaries will turn and run rather than being cut down or petrified, then halts herself. Only one, this time, and it's... rather not what the serpentine gorgon was expecting. Flapping her four wings in confusion, she slithers forward cautiously, examining the blind-folded wolf-thing.
	Standing at least a good two heads over the gorgon's normal posture, Sheba is quietly surprised. Such a hulking beast seems normal enough in the arena, but not one so... effeminate. A motherly set of hips fit for a creature so immense, and a massive pair of breasts that outsize even the gorgon's own, and that cute tail wagging behing her, and it's almost enough to set the clawed serpent laughing. That is, until she sees the massive weapon balanced across her shoulder and the bulging sack various alchemical flasks at her side. Sheba decides not to take any chances with this strange, feminine wolf-thing and instead makes use of her best attribute in the arena: Her adversarie's blindness.
	Slithering near-silently across the sand, she reaches a fallen warrior's shield and plucks it up, calming herself for the most challenging part of her soon-to-be-victory. A quick discus throw into that bumbling creature's sack of what she assumes are poisons and explosives, and she'll be on her way back to her lonely respite, there to wait until her nation requires her for a more sensible task. However, Sheba's plan falls upon one problem: No Sa's bag does not contain anything a normal person would consider 'poison'.
	As the round shield whirrs across the field and strikes the startled wolf right in the satchel, a muffled *whumpf* fills the arena, and then a cloud of heavy fumes surrounds the white wolf as she frantically discards her bag of potions. Staggering to her knees and clutching her sensitive nose, No Sa whines as bizarre and uncanny concoctions of her how design mix inside her sinuses. Gorgons were supposed to be snake-people! They weren't supposed to throw things at you, they were supposed to be all claws and wings! Snarling as her body begins to heat up, she turns towards the quiet slithering she'd heard earlier. Blind she may be, but the incredible array of synesthesia beginning to flood her consciousness may as well be radar for all Sheba's attempts to hide. Howling to the silken roof above, No Sa lunges forward, stimulants and enhancers coursing through her brain as she sprints directly toward Sheba.
	Old Sheba has her name for a reason, and while she likes to think of it as a compliment on her skill in battle, it is true that she was quite old when the curse hit. Her reflexes have never been quite as fine as she implied, leading her to rely more on the raw strength and speed her unholy  body provides her. As such, she is quite unprepared when approximately five-hundred pounds of irate, chemically enhanced wolf slam into her mid-section, frantically scrabbling about for the ancient snake's arms and wings. However, Sheba recovers quickly, wrapping her tail about the wolf and preparing for a death-strike when something surprising happens.
	Finally catching wind of Sheba's upper-body thanks to the snake-woman's grasp, No Sa spins about and catches the snake about the breasts... then stops struggling, shivering as her massive paws begin to experimentally grope the snake. The wolf admits to herself, she's feeling awfully funny. Is it season already? All those potions at once are making it hard to think and... this snake-thing smells awfully nice. 
	Sheba blinks in shock as the wolf simply spins about in her clutches and starts boldly feeling her up. It's been a long, long time since she felt the touch of another creature. A pair of somethings twitch inside the snake's tail as No Sa continues to shift in Sheba's grasp, a white paw reaching down to sate the wolf's needs as she starts to press further against the snake, lapping at her face and panting heavily. So long, Sheba thinks to herself. So lonely... Shaking her head, she flicks her tongue back at the wolf's muzzle. Why not? Who's going to judge a mad old snake anyway? But there is of course a protocol to be established.
	Hissing back at the lustful wolf and spreading her wings wide, Sheba takes the initiative, gripping No Sa by the shoulders and leaning back the other way. "Miiiiine~" She murmurs, gently sinking her teeth into dog's ear as as her tail grins against the wolf's belly. Panting in need, this last display is too much for the poor werewolf's over-strained intellect, and she relents, letting the gorgon redirect the hold and slowly lies back in her coils, leg kicking as Sheba rubs her belly. 
	"Good girl." Growls Sheba, scratching her new pet about the chin with the tip of her tail. A brief loop later and the snake has her leashed, leaving the rest of her tail free to uncoil and get into a more comfortable position. It's been such a long time... Why not try something new? She's never managed to use both at once before... The only other gorgon she ever met was male. Let's see if she can remember how this works. There's a quiet *squish*, and then a moment of tension, and a pair of long, slender shafts push free of Sheba's tail, pressing lighting against the dog's dribbling lips and tight rear. No Sa tries to lift her head, surprised at the sudden pressure, but her 'leash' drags her back down. "Sit." Comes the stern voice, and the werewolf reclines obediently. She's just too overwhelmed today, and this nice-smelling voice is so strong. Perhaps it'll do her some good to lie back and be a good girl for a few days.
	Sheba's mouth spreads open in a seldom-seen smile as No Sa surrenders again, finally having both opportunity and the means to exercise it. At long last, she can ease the niggling itch in her flesh and maybe even come home to a cave full of hatchlings some day... Shaking herself, she returns her mind to the present, and bends down to give her pet a gentle lick across the nose before pressing forward, sliding her reptilian members against the wolf's eager holes. Her slit barely even resists the slender shaft, slipping between heated lips with little trouble, while No Sa's rear is little more effort thanks to the strange, clear lubricant which coats both the serpent's shafts. The wolf squirms and whines beneath the gorgon's minstrations, but her arms simply pull tighter, squeezing her mistress against her as she sinks herself deeper into her body. 
	"That's my girl~" Coos the snake, nuzzling against the great alchemist's head as the begins to undulate her coils in a slow and steady rhythm, pressing her breasts softly against No Sa's own before giving her another gently bite to the neck. It's simply too much for the sense-overloaded wolf, and she gives a weak howl as her body shudders in climax, leg kicking against the sand as Sheba continues her slow and delicate dance, mating her pet in a style few mammals have ever experienced, and even fewer survived to speak of it again. Reaching down to stroke No Sa's brow with a thin and weathered hand, the serpent woman smiles, leaning down to a canine ear and murmuring, "You will always be mine~" Then, a soft sigh, and both her shafts tremble inside the werewolf's belly. A spurt of sticky coolness at first, and then an easy flood as Sheba continues the dance, filling her pet with a soft flow of seed. "Let's go home." With that, Old Sheba turns from the battlefield and slides back into the dark, safe depths of her home, still linked at the waist to her new beloved. It seems that she is to have an interesting winter after all...