Snake Girl, Part 1

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

Summary: Tori is transformed into a snake from the hips down. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, transformation, and more.

-

“How was your day, Tori?” said Dr. Wilson as he seated himself at the head of the dining room table. He primly flapped his napkin and placed it on his thighs.

Seated at the opposite end of the table, Tori squirmed somewhat. But then, she always seemed to be squirming. “It was okay,” she offered. “I had a video call with Taylor.”

“That’s excellent, Tori,” said Wilson, but he sounded completely indifferent, and didn’t even shift his attention from his meal. Lifting his knife and fork, he began to cut into his pork chop.

Tori began to eat as well, though mostly just shuffled food around in her plate. Her tail continued to squirm under the table, scales rubbing into the sealed wood in a way that felt sort of nice.

Tori was part snake. Half-snake? Well, Tori was a snake from the waist down, just below her navel. It was a fairly new development for Tori. She was about six months in. Sometimes she still didn’t believe what she had become, and found herself poking or prodding at her sinuous lower half, flinching at the elevated experience of sensation, nerves shuddering in pleasure, discomfort, and overall confusion over what had become of her body.

Seven months earlier, Tori had been sick in the hospital. Illness and infection had left her bones decaying. She had been on the cusp of death when government agents swooped in for a bedside meeting. It had been like something out of a movie. They requested that Tori participate in an experimental treatment program that could possibly prolong her life. The risks were substantial, and her life would “never be anywhere close to resembling normal.” If she survived the treatments, she would be forfeiting her freedom to a certain extent. The government could keep her hidden away if they so chose.

And they so chose.

It was a high price but an invaluable reward. Tori didn’t have anything to lose anyway. She signed the contracts.

Now, Tori lived with Dr.Wilson, in a large, beautiful, and extremely isolated house. Dr. Wilson came and went, but the house seemed to be his main residence. Other scientists often came by to observe, examine, or talk to Tori, but Dr. Wilson continued to be her primary guardian. They wanted Tori to have the consistence of one individual, possibly someone she could build trust with.

It was odd for Tori to think of Wilson as a guardian. The man wasn’t much older than Tori was—a decade her senior, at best.

It was also weird to think that so many measures were being taken to ensure “consistency.” Like Tori was a wild animal that might go off at any moment. “We still don’t know how this is all affecting your brain chemistry,” Wilson admitted one evening. “Even you must see that you’re continuing to experience changes.”

It was true. Tori’s tail was still progressively getting longer. When she had first awoken, it had only been the length that her legs had been. Now it was an impressive seven feet. Her canines were sharper, and seemed to be lengthening as well. Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she thought her eyes had changed, but she couldn’t be too sure.

Tori’s program was top-secret in nature. Even she didn’t know much about the extent of it—if there were others like her, being kept in isolation from the rest of the world. She’d wonder if there were people who had successfully been turned into half-snakes like she was, or if there were people who had been changed in different ways. She wanted to measure whether her case was a lucky one or not, depending on other people’s outcomes. When Tori inquired about it with Wilson, the scientist blatantly refused to answer and immediately ended the conversation. Though it was annoying at times, Tori appreciated Wilson’s directness. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush or cater to other people’s insecurities.

“You’re not hungry?”

Tori looked up to see that Wilson was watching her—scrutinizing, really.

Tori looked back down at her plate, where her food had been shuffled around into an unappealing mound of a mixture. “I guess not,” she muttered, even though her stomach ached in disagreement. There was something just so very unappealing about the perfectly cooked chunks of pork chop with rice and vegetables mixed around it. “I think I’ll get back to my book,” said Tori, lowering her fork. She got up easily, now so accustomed to balancing on her tail that she didn’t have to think about it. She slithered off smooth and easy, tail trailing after her as she turned out of the dining room. Tori got to her bedroom on the other side of the house, but instead of resuming her book on quantum entanglement, she just ended up playing video games all night, her tail squirming and twitching as she rapidly pressed keys on the controller.

Tori was actually rather content with her new life. The first few weeks with the tail had been horrifying and traumatic as she was forced through physical therapy and struggling with the seemingly impossible task of learning to stand. Now Tori occupied her time with studying, video games, exercise, reading, and writing. She was now even allowed to have video calls with an online friend she’d made named Taylor. Tori wasn’t allowed to reveal herself from the waist down, and all the interactions were monitored and recorded.

Her family thought she was dead. It was too painful to think about, most days. Yet it was probably for the best. She had doubts that they could ever come to terms with the anomaly she had become.

“Damn,” Tori muttered as her avatar died. She lowered the controller and pulled off her shirt. She had put it on for dinner, but she typically wore only a bandeau outside of meals. She wasn’t sure why, but it probably had something to do with her changed anatomy and cooler blood.

Tori looked down at her ribs, absently trailing it with her fingers. She knew she had lost weight. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t compel herself to eat most days. She wondered if the experiment was failing, and she was wasting away. She knew by then that life wasn’t guaranteed. She had lived seven long months longer than she was supposed to have, and she found that she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She was just accepting of things.

-

“You’re still losing weight,” said Dr. Carter grimly during Tori’s next exam.

Tori shrugged. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“This is becoming dangerous, Tori.”

Dr. Carter’s mournful tone unnerved Tori a little. “I’m sorry.” And Tori meant it. “I’ll—try harder.”

They took her measurements. As usual, her snake-side was inches longer than it had been the month before, and Tori was sort of pleased by that. Despite her lack of eating, she was continuing to grow. And she kind of liked her strange, sinuous limb. Despite the abnormality, there were certainly benefits to it. She could be amazingly fast now, crossing the distance of a room in the faction of a second. She could be tall as well, raising herself as high as the tail allowed, towering above others.

But she couldn’t seem to eat.

At lunch that day, Tori did her best to force food down, but it quickly got to the point that every bite left her retching somewhat. If Dr. Wilson noticed, he did not bring attention to it, except by saying, “I have a theory on why you’re having difficulty with food. I am going to conduct a small experiment to verify it.” With that, Wilson continued to cut, actually cut into his tuna sandwich with a knife and fork. It was Tori’s day to prepare lunch, and she hadn’t been feeling particularly ambitious.

Tori waited for Wilson to continue, but after several moments, it became clear that he had no intention of doing so.

“What type of experiment?” said Tori, growing mildly annoyed, though Wilson’s behavior wasn’t anything new. The man was formal and professional to the point of being robotic. Tori lowered her nibbled-on sandwich.

“Actually, it would be best if I did not inform you about the specifics,” said Wilson.

Tori sighed. “Whatever,” she said, her interest having hardly materialized in the first place.

Sometimes Tori craved for more human interaction, and for better company than Wilson. But she tried to suppress those thoughts. She should have just been grateful to be alive.

Tori resumed her reading, her studies, and her games, trying her best to snack on small crackers for the duration, but hardly even touching them. That evening she went to the kitchen to get some water, when a fresh basket of hen eggs sitting on the counter gave her pause. Wilson wasn’t a fan of eggs so he didn’t ordinarily purchase them. Tori was pretty indifferent and didn’t press for them to be part of her diet. She honestly didn’t care one way or another. But for some reason, Tori found herself staring at the eggs in the basket, sort of entranced by them. She didn’t know how long she was gazing at them before she heard Wilson say:

“Tori?”

Tori snapped out of her reverie. Lightly shaking her head, she met Wilson’s eyes. “Just getting some water,” she mumbled, going into the fridge and retrieving a reusable biodegradable bottle of said liquid.

Tori returned to her room, and as she sat down at her desk and looked out the window, she noticed a large amount of birds outside, digging into the grass, as though there was food there. It hadn’t rained recently, so Tori was certain they weren’t feeding on worms. Wilson typically disliked animals, but who else could have left food for the birds? Tori frowned as she watched them. Some even perched themselves on her windowsill, at which point Tori realized that a birdfeeder had been attached there. It was new, odd, and strangely thrilling, simple as it was. As with her eggs, she found herself giving it rapt attention. She licked her lips, and her stomach grumbled for the first time in a while.

As the days passed, more odd things occurred. When Tori saw a mouse skittering about her bedroom floor late one night, she felt strangely devoid of any apprehension. All the same, she reported it to Wilson early the next morning.

“That is unfortunate,” Wilson said as he took Tori’s morning vitals. “It may be an isolated incident. Please let me know if it continues to be a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. Just an observation,” said Tori.

But perhaps it was a problem. As with the eggs and the birds, Tori found herself fixated and preoccupied. That day her eyes kept darting to the edges of the room for another sighting of the small white mouse that had been wandering about on her carpet the night before. She didn’t understand her agitation and wondered if it was the snake part of her that was reacting.

The rodents didn’t make sense. The property was so surveilled and secure that a fly couldn’t get in or out without notice. Something very intentional appeared to be underway. Tori supposed she would find out what it was when she was meant to.

Certain parts of the house were less like an impersonal residence than a blatant medical facility. Wilson’s study, to Tori, was like a small lab. Wilson spent many of his days hidden away within it, the door shut and locked. But as Tori passed it that afternoon, she noticed that the door stood ajar. Tori usually only went to the lab for appointments and meetings with Wilson, but something about the door being carelessly left open seemed very inviting, and Tori willfully went to it. Perhaps it was the loneliness. There was a soft chirping as she pushed the door fully open.

Wilson looked up from a table where he had been hunched over a microscope. “Tori,” he greeted.

Tori slithered inside. She trailed towards the large bird cage in the corner, which had never been there before. On a perch stood three small white birds. They were beautiful. Briefly, Tori thought they were doves, but there was something very disinteresting about identifying them so much as just experiencing. “Birds,” Tori deadpanned.

“I’ve developed a fascination for them.”

“Are you using them for experiments?”

“Perhaps.”

Tori’s fingers twitched.

“Do you want to hold one?” said Wilson.

Tori longed to, but she backed away, suddenly fearful of the primal need stirring within her. “No.” She left, and in bed that night she shifted and groaned, the hunger worsening.