Boa (3 Parts)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Alex.

Prompt Directory

1.

Camille stepped out of the London underground, trying to blend with the crowd.

It wasn’t easy. Camille was hard to miss. Even the masses of people, who were supposed to function as cover for her, would often stare.

Camille was slightly over seven feet in height. She was dressed in a formfitting tank top with blue and white stripes, green cargo pants, and black boots. She had muscular arms and a lean body. Her long black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. She had large hazel eyes and plump pink lips.

But people weren’t staring at Camille’s considerable height. Camille had a set of huge round breasts that sat high and dominated her torso. Each was larger than a volleyball, yet they were full and perky, not a hint of sag and not a blemish on them.

Camille hadn’t always been this way. Not before the serum. She was an experimental Russian super-solider with a variety of extremely unique and unusual skills. Her movements were smooth and lith. She never faltered. And this was only her in her human form. Her breasts rocked and bobbed as she ducked behind a building for cover.

She wasn’t spotted.

Camille had trailed her target all the way to London. She had intel that a sale of illegal and deadly chemical weapons was about to transpire. It was her job to stop the exchange and apprehend all those involved before a disastrous scene unfolded in the city.

Camille followed her target through passages and alleyways as the population thinned and a haze fell over the evening sky. Now that it was dark, it was easier to hide. She came upon an old, abandoned warehouse in time to see her target slip inside.

Camille found a side entrance and broke the lock easily. She found cover behind some old crates piled by the wall as she peered at the scene.

There were a half-dozen men, already deep in negotiation. One was standing beside a large metallic box. The one Camille had followed here was carrying a leather black suitcase.

“I need a proper demonstration before I agree to anything,” said Dirth, the man with the suitcase.

“Of course,” said a man with sleeked-back hair. He seemed to be the ringleader. He gave a slight nod, and one of his cronies stepped forward with the metal box. Two others came into view, dragging a man who was battered, bruised, and making muffled noises around a gag tied to his mouth.

The metallic box was unlocked and opened. A large capsule was pulled out. Several gas masks were distributed as the battered man was ungagged. He released a wail.

Camille stepped forward. “Deal ends here.”

She received astonished looks from all the men. The ringleader hastily finished fastening his mask. He twisted the capsule with a sharp jerk of his wrist, and a pink gas began to pour out.

Camille transformed.

Her skin steadily took on forest green scales that completely covered her. Her body as a whole progressively thickened and lengthened, her legs fusing together as it developed into a long, sinuous snake-tail.

Camille was a boobaconstrictor.

In her snake form, she was ten feet three inches from head to hips alone. Her tail was long and thick and seemingly endless where it curled and twisted across the cool floor. Her breasts had only grown larger, like two beach balls, now as green as the rest of her. Only her lips remained pink, as well as her nipples, which were now huge and bulging as they wobbled with the movements of her massive breasts.

Camille moved quickly, throwing the battered man towards the other side of the room so he was out of the range of the smoke. She wrapped around two men, squeezing them with her tail, while breaking two others’ wrists as they reached for their guns. The ringleader tried to run off, but she lunged and knocked his feet out from beneath him, causing him to land hard on his face against the cement.

The last man standing had been gawking at her in fear and awe. He released a gasp as she caught his eyes, and immediately raised his hands in surrender.

Camille lifted the capsule from the ground. She twisted it until it thankfully locked and smoke stopped pouring out into the warehouse.

She then sighed and pressed the intercom in her right ear. “Target apprehended. Weapon retrieved.” She would stay in her snake form at least until the remaining smoke cleared. It was better to be safe than sorry.

2.

The criminals were apprehended and the chemical weapons were neutralized. Camille submitted her testimony as the case was shifted from her hands to those of the lawyers and courts.

The paperwork was honestly the worst part of the job. After she finished her final case report, Camille decided to take a few days off.
She spent it largely at the beaches in the south of Spain. Clothing optional. Her usual cargo pants, tank top, and combat boots were replaced with a string bikini. She didn't at all mind the stares when she wasn't trying to be discreet. In fact, she loved the attention.
Camille never suffered any soreness, aches, or even tension in her back. It was all just part of being a super solider. Her body was flexible and lithe; smooth like a snakes. Her movements were seductively graceful even when she was in her human form.
She enjoyed the sensation of the hot sun on her skin, which was a bit of a luxury where she was from. She yearned to release her inner beast. And so did her body.
Her massive breasts were throbbing with their milk surplus, flesh straining and bubbling against her bikini top. Jaws hung as people took in her hugely bulging, over-packed flesh. Camille arched and groaned. She felt like she might release at any moment. She let out a moan as the mounds shuddered.
Camille climbed to her feet, toes sinking into the warm sand. As delightful as releasing her milk could be at that moment, she knew that doing it in her boobaconstrictor form could offer her true satisfaction.
Camille walked towards the shoreline until the tide was lapping against her feet. She allowed her body to slip into her beast form, feeling her body rise and lengthen as her skin darkened to forest green and her breasts grew several times larger. She didn't even care as her bikini tore to shreds.
Her tail stirred and shifted her into the water. She arched with a hum, and felt her huge bobbing breasts contact somewhat.
The dam released with a satisfying tingle and sting. Camille panted as milk sprayed from her nipples with the force of two anti-riot water cannons. It shot through the air, spraying several yards outward until landing in the water. There were gasps and exclamations as people pointed at her, but Camille could hardly mind. She just smiled.
She slid deeper into the water until only her tail could touch the sand. She allowed herself to sink, her long hair floating over her, and a thick cloud of milk billowing around her as her nipples poured and poured.
The output could barely keep up with the production. She was still so tight, still producing so much. Camille rose, breaching the surface and taking a gasp air. Her cleavage bulged out, now cool and sleek. She could still see people by the shore pointing in her direction and at the way the water had paled around her.
Camille floated around contentedly for an hour or so, enjoying the relaxation of the ocean breeze and the smell of salt water surrounding her.
By the time she began to wade back towards the shore, her body felt relaxed, and the tension in her breasts had settled somewhat. When she slithered out if the water, she could see that her milk output was indeed less forceful. Until the next round, she mused in quiet satisfaction as she made her way to her large beach towel. She sunk back into her human form and sprawled back across it. Twin squirts of milk shot up into the air, but the release had gotten erratic rather than forceful and constant.
After a few moments of rest, she groaned and reached out, beginning to rummage in her backpack for some clothes. She pulled on a loose tank top which was immediately pasted against her skin by the still-seeping milk. She shivered at the sensation of the cotton top dragging on her swollen, sensitized nipples, as she wiggled her legs into a pair of shorts.
Her cell phone buzzed in a vibration pattern she knew to be work, and it was actually welcoming. Despite its demanding nature, work was her passion. And it seemed her vacation was over for the time being. She lifted the phone to her ear. "Camille here."

3.

It wouldn't have been Camille's first pick for a bar, but she was on the job, so she hadn't had a choice on the matter. She honestly hadn't expected much from a venue that was open at noon on a Wednesday and exclusively sold alcohol.

The furniture was dusty and the glasses were foggy, but the drinks were strong, at least. So it was tolerable.

Camille sat on a stool at the bar, head down, trying not to bring too much attention to herself. As such, she was in her human form. The place was small and scattered with a dozen other so regulars. Mostly drunks, but she wasn't there to judge. She had her own vices after all.

Despite her recent beach holiday, Camille could feel the snake part of her simmering near the surface, yearning to let loose. Her breasts were heavy and pulsing where they sat high on her chest.

Perhaps her time off had been insufficient. Camille was still learning to slow down and take breaks when she needed to. She thought that when she finished this assignment, she would spend as much time in her boobaconstrictor form as possible. She would sleep in the form, allowing her body to twist and stretch as she luxuriated.

Now though, for the time being, Camille was still waiting for the contact she was supposed to be meeting. She didn't know who it was or what they would be wearing, she just knew that there would be a signal of some sort.

"Hey there, sweetness." A man with slick hair and blue eyes slid onto the bar stool beside hers. He adjusted his glasses and took a long look at the swollen mounds on her chest. "You look too good to be sitting here all alone."

The agitation was growing. The snake wanted out.

The man went on, "How about you and me..."

Camille was hardly listening. She knew that she couldn't properly “deter” the man unless he did something as bold as touching her. That didn't seem a long way off, with the way he was leering.

"Best out of nine?" said a middle-aged man across the room. He was playing a game of darts with a guy in a baseball cap.

"A deal's a deal. Now own up," said the guy in a cap.

"Man, you were too close to the board. Let's have a fair game. C'mon, rematch."

"That's not how this works," said the guy in the cap. "Now pay up." He got in the older man's face.

As Camille received a fresh drink she could hear a scuffle starting up. It was admittedly hard to focus on anything aside from her heaving breasts as they strained her top.

She hardly got any effects from alcohol but she still liked the taste. She knew how to appreciate the nuances in flavor. There was a choking noise, and as Camille turned her head, she could see that Baseball Cap had his challenger in a choke hold.

Two loud booming noises echoed through the bar. Everyone's attention turned to the dart board, which was now cracked and hanging askew, still smoking from gun shots.

Slick, still seated beside her, raised his brows and took a sip of his gin.

Camille turned her pistol on the two feuding men. "Time to go home," she ordered.

The middle-aged man looked ready to scamper off, but Baseball Cap swiftly drew his own gun, aiming it right back at Camille. "I think you should take your own advice, mega-tits."

Camille felt herself standing, unable to control herself anymore.

She felt her legs and hips extending, her body elevating to tower over everyone else. Her breasts tremored as they swelled forward, a green tint beginning to form on her skin.

A light tapping on her waist pulled her out of her trance.

"I was hoping for something more discreet,” said Slick, still seated at the bar. “We should get out of here.”

Camille's eyes widened. He was the contact.

She shrunk back down to her full human form, absently cupping her left breast as she allowed the slick-haired man to lead her out of the bar. She didn't care about the stares. The darts fight had at least broken up.