Boa (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Alex.

$20 Patreon Directory

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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.

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