An elder deity surveyed the world of Terra far above him. From his realm he made decisions and gave aid where it was needed. Tartarus, the ever hungering abyss sensed loneliness at the current residence of his champion. It was a feeling not coming from Ignacious Jones, but from the developing infant in the Chuck’s secret chambers.
Hidden away from the light, in an incubator, the egg sat. It was the creation of the talented and eccentric Dr. Charles Dante Wolcott. His son, his living legacy since the good doctor was incapable of having a son through natural means. Yet the egg sat alone, like something tossed aside and long forgotten. Casting his gaze around, Tartarus was outraged to find Chuck drinking and carousing. Something had to be done. Summoning the egg to him, Tartarus rested it on his lap, talking gently to it as he fed his own kids.
Chuck went immediately to bed. Tartarus appeared to the man in his dreams, “You have got to stop this. You have a child. You made him. And now you neglect him? Since Kenneth is part snake, as per your design, you’ll become such as well.” Tartarus set the large, pearlescent egg in Chuck’s lap and vanished. Chuck’s body began to change.
Sometime in the afternoon, Chuck came to. Strange dream. he thought, then stretched out his long body. Things weren’t right. This was alien to him, unknown. He ran his tongue around his mouth. There were new teeth, small, pointing back towards his throat. Long fangs were folded tightly down at the top. They flipped forward as he flexed a newfound muscle. Odd. He thought. Chuck’s tongue flicked out of his mouth, it was black and forked.
Wrong. That’s wrong. He thought to himself. A loud thud arose as he rolled out of his bed, snake body strange to him. What the hell? Taking a few minutes he studied himself. A tail of tawny, different shades of sand colored scales. It was thick were it joined his tanned human torso, thicker towards the middle. There his scales didn’t seem to fit together as snugly. A finger stroking one of his fangs, Chuck attempted to determine what kind of snake he was. A studious eye followed to the end of his eight feet of tail. The professor grinned and shook the tip of his tail, hearing that characteristic, hollow rat-a-tat-a-tat.
“Some kind of rattlesnake.” Chuck observed. As he tried to figure everything out, he rose bringing himself upright. His lower body moved against the carpet and Chuck felt something awry in his snake half. Things were still clicking in his head. The muscles of the snake were becoming less foreign and more familiar to him. Hovering over his own body, he reached forward, pressing down. Flesh yielded as he expected, then seemed to halt. What was inside him? It was a bit unyielding, large, and there was that movement again.
“Kenneth?” Chuck started to yell, “Tartarus, Tartarus! Answer me you dog dick!”
Tartarus laughed, “What’s wrong child?” he asked.
“Kenneth, he breathes through the shell. He needs air or he’ll die.” Chuck shouted.
Tartarus, again laughed, “Then take a few deep breaths. Kenneth needs your love as much as he needs to breathe.” Chuck was panicking still. “Look.” Tartarus instructed again, Chuck’s scales dissolved away, followed by skin and muscles until they could see the pearlescent egg, nestled in a thin layer of fluid, blood vessels spidering through the tissues all around the egg. “Killing children is not my game.” The elder deity said. Layer by layer the flesh fell back in place.
Chuck had watched, unable to move, now he wrapped his arms around the snake belly, coils wrapping around it. His eyes were full of tears, it hadn’t even hit him that he was technically pregnant. An hour passed, the snake-man had fallen back asleep. The phone rang and the professor raced to answer it. “Charles Wolcott.” He said.
It was his handler, a higher up at Abstergo. “Your ass was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!” Chuck now felt agitated and struggled to silence his tail.
“Send a driver to me. I’ll be there.” Chuck said. The handler slammed his phone down thinking Chuck was drunk again. Chuck however was pretty damn sober. Searching his closet he pulled a shirt out and put it on.
The curtains were drawn away from the window, letting sunlight pool on his bed. Lounging in the sun, Chuck put shades over his sensitive eyes. From time to time he would adjust his coils, especially the short length holding his son. Reverie interrupted by the blaring of a car horn, Chuck grabbed his go bag and slithered as fast as his scales would carry him. A silver towncar sat in the driveway. A young man in a square shouldered suit stepped out and opened the back door. He was not startled by Professor Wolcott’s appearance. Getting in was a process. First he had to climb all the way in to the driver’s side, then pull in his coils. Chuck was getting used to this very quickly. He put his seatbelt around his torso and around his snake body.
“Still rockin’ the shades?” The driver asked. Chuck gave a curt nod as he leaned back in his seat, trying to process everything.
“Always. The shades are a way of life.” Chuck answered. How does Iggy get in contact with that overpowered prick?
The driver spoke, “Well, normally he’s a little more respectful when he prays.” Chuck screamed. Tartarus laughed, letting the façade of the young man fade away in favor of a strong jawed gentleman in his fifties with red hair and a vintage wool suit. Tartarus spoke, “What did you need to know?”
Chuck shrugged, lifting his tail to open the sunroof, “What sort of world is this?”
“This is what terra would be if the Age of Heroes had gone differently, had the monsters become more accepted and more commonplace.” He paused, “Although rattle-nagas like yourself are much more rare, especially educated ones.”
Relaxing in the sun, Chuck nodded, “What’s my cover story? How exactly did I come to have this egg inside me?”
Tartarus drove in a circle, keeping them talking, “Nagas choose which gender they identify with in their twelfth year, then they undergo a series of rituals that draw out their secondary sex characteristics. Both can have young. Since you’re getting past your mating cycle, your friend obliged you and there was a quick coupling.”
Chuck rubbed his face, “I had sex with Amir and I don’t remember it?”
Tartarus laughed, “You’re a bit of a drunk.”
Chuck’s tongue flicked out, “I’m a lot of a drunk.” He laughed, “Kenneth isn’t going to be hurt by that, is he?” Now he was seriously concerned.
Tartarus parked, “You sobered up. Actually you convinced Elaine to lock you in a cage to detox before you mated then for two months while the egg formed. There were a good deal of goats involved and when you really had cravings a few of Abstergo’s prisoners disappeared.
Chuck whistled then grinned, “Elaine would love to lock me in a cage. I want her so much.”
“Except she’s a lioness.” Tartarus said as he pulled into the airport.
“A man can dream.” Chuck replied. Tartarus had become a young man once again, he opened the door for the snake in the backseat.
“With the egg formed, your drinking doesn’t affect him.” Tartarus whispered as Chuck pulled himself from the car, tail first then his human body, finally the snake belly with it’s precious cargo. Tartarus rubbed Chuck’s swollen belly, “Snakes are lucky; especially those that are gravid. Get used to people touching your belly without asking.”
It wasn’t long before Chuck had loaded himself and his bag onto the private jet. A well-dressed young woman approached as soon as Chuck had settled in. She introduced herself as the pilot. The naga barely listened. A rumbling had started in his human torso and finished in the snake belly.
Two stomachs? he thought, then he turned on his charm, tilting his head to the side a little, voice smooth as hot oil, a gentle smile on his face, “Say, can we get out of here? I’m starving.” His voice had a tendency to rise to a higher pitch when he was nervous or excited. In this case he was whining a bit.
Smiling at him, the young pilot nodded as she leaned in closer towards him. “Of course, Doctor. There are snacks in the fridge, but I have to remind you to watch that figure of yours.”
He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.” Before he could react, the pilot had put a hand on his bulging belly. Then just as quick, she turned and left.
“Personal space much?” Chuck mumbled, tail rattling briefly. The jet took off shortly after he’d strapped himself in. It didn’t take the hungry snake long to find the minifridge. Inside were previously frozen mice, rats and fish. No pizza? He whined, then let his tongue flick out. Once he’d caught the taste of the snacks on the air all hope of stopping him was lost. Chuck’s lower jaw unhinged, the center of his mandible releasing, mouth widening to create a chute straight to his hungry belly.
Not even surprised, Chuck began to cram everything into his gaping maw, swallowing quickly. It added pressure to move everything down. The fridge soon sat empty. Chuck closed his mouth, moving everything back into its resting position. The food created a significant bulge in his abdomen.
Now he needed warmth. Had to get warm. It would help his system break everything down. A switch clicked in his head, colors were replaced by something else. Heat vision? Of course the pits for the sensory organs would be hidden by his beard, that’s why he hadn’t realized they were there. An area of the cabin was glowing under his special vision. It proved to be a thick mat, which the naga coiled his long body on. Chuck looked down. He was vain, no denying it. The way his stomach pooched out was unattractive. That first stomach was for holding things anyway. Putting a hand on his belly, Chuck wiggled his torso, tightening and releasing his abdominal muscles. His hand pressed down and the mass in his gut moved.
Tartarus spoke to him again, “I’m impressed, that’s a skill most nagas never master.” Chuck grunted, just glad to see his abs again. There was much more room in that snake stomach to begin with. A quick doze made the flight shorter. He didn’t even want to leave the soft mat. After landing, Chuck put in his earpiece. He’d receive target information through it. “No weapons?” He mumbled as he searched for a provided kit.
The earpiece crackled to life, “You are the weapon.” There was a moment of static. “Three targets today, two elimination and one detainment.”
Detainment? Oh right. No venom, squeeze until they pass out, and circulate adequate air in the weaker stomach to keep the target alive but docile. Chuck then spoke, “Not doing detainment. It could hurt Kenneth.”
The handler grew stern, “It hasn’t hurt any eggs before, besides your egg is in that reptilian belly. You’d be fairly useless if you let it form in the human one.”
His handler had a point, “Detainment’s extra.” Chuck replied.
The handler chuckled, “We are aware.”
An unmarked van dropped Chuck off a few blocks from his destination. “All I want to do is lounge in the sun.” he complained.
His handler shut the van door. “I’d like to say that was the egg talking, but that’s you.” Chuck smirked at his handler. They’d worked together for over a year now and Chuck didn’t know his name. It was better that way.
While moving up the block, the snake-man pretended to be interested in several houses that were for sale. Tongue flicking in and out, Chuck found his way in the back door. Finding the keypad for the alarm system, he put in the code that was fed to him through his earpiece. It would erase the record of the door opening and the system being accessed. Working with Abstergo was great, so many backdoors.
Lying in wait, Chuck kept a hand on the egg in his long body. The front door opened but Chuck knew better than to spring. After counting off the target’s footsteps, the naga leaned out. Physical description was a match. Moving from cover to cover, as he would have done as a man would not work like this. He’d crept forward instead, getting closer before lunging, serpentine body wrapping around limbs, fangs sinking into the neck. Special muscles in his own neck injected a precise amount of venom.
Not sure how much time he had, Chuck began to constrict. He squeezed as the venom attacked, destroying the red cells. It would suffocate his victim, inside and out. Now would be the simpler part. Despite his snack, Chuck hadn’t eaten properly in two weeks. It made it easier if he only ate for work.
Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Chuck unhinged his jaw. The man in his coils was a musclebound gym rat. After his shoulders and chest the rest of him would be as easy as downing a beer. Sliding his mouth over the head, his unfused jaw allowed his mouth to further accommodate his victim. Wholly consumed in the act eating, the naga had to twist, aligning the widest part of his body to the broadest part of his victim. Still he struggled. To his credit this was the first time the former human Chuck had eaten anything this large. He gagged and coughed undoing all the progress he had made.
FUCK! Chuck swore, How am I supposed to do this? He took a few shallow breaths and closed his eyes. Tartarus, I need help. He tried to be calm but he was panicked.
Tartarus spoke. “The body you’re in knows what it’s doing. Your instincts will guide you. Don’t be afraid.”
Fear? Chuck ran the idea through his brain. Of course, he’d been afraid. Blood ran through the cadaver’s nose. He didn’t need those fluids on the floor. It was time to try again.
“Breathe through your nose, take your time.” Tartarus instructed. Chuck had the head in his mouth again. He could taste the blood. His gaping maw widened as he pulled the large body into his mouth. This time the broad shoulders were a minor difficulty. Small, sharp teeth helped him cling to the body. Chuck let out a sigh of relief once the body, his food, was in his esophagus which easily let it pass. Hands pulled on clothing as his snake body pushed him forwards, slippery saliva making friction negligible.
Feet cleared teeth and soon esophagus as his flexible first stomach accepted its meal. He felt tired and sluggish. Looking down he recalled his flat stomach, how beautiful his abs were. How did it go? Tighten the bellies, release, flex, release, a large gulp and a push down at the same time. The hideous bulge moved from upper stomach to lower, holding tank to digestive vat. That lower stomach was key.
Kenneth fidgeted in his egg as his daddy’s prey moved to his Daddy’s second stomach. “Sorry, Daddy’s working.” Chuck said, giving a reassuring rub to his most precious. For the second and last time, Chuck punched the alarm buttons and then left the house. He stayed low and met the van in the rear.
Chuck napped as he went to his next destination. This one would be easier. He swore it. This time the information was given to Chuck in the van. “Woman of your dreams, Chuck: a Swimsuit model. Sources say she’s been feeding information gleaned from her roommate’s work to the assassins.”
Chuck yawned as he looked at some pictures. “You sure they aren’t implants?” He asked, looking at the buxom blonde.
“If they are they were done illegally. She doesn’t have any serial numbers registered to her.” His handler said. Chuck didn’t want to ingest anything like that. The van pulled in to an alleyway. The sun was just setting. Sources said she’d pass by on the way home from a photoshoot. The entrance to the alleyway was a dark hole between street lights.
Now, now was the time to test that heat vision. It was similar to flipping a switch. Chuck flicked it on, then off, then back on again. He was playing with this new sense, getting used to it. After another twenty minutes something registered in his vision. It was warm. It was busty. Switching off the heat sense, Chuck confirmed the woman’s identity. Then he struck.
Long fangs sank into the model’s warm torso one tooth at a time. Blood seeped into the naga’s mouth. It was dark, and bitter. Most likely Chuck had hit her liver and even without injecting venom the bite would be fatal. With the venom, she would be easier to digest; it broke down blood and muscle. His strong tail constricted around her. She was weakening quickly, Chuck’s jaws loosened. The blonde struggled as he consumed her headfirst, jaws ever widening to allow the passage of her shoulders. Using his sharp teeth for grip, Chuck pulled on the limp carcass, tail finding purchase on propelling him forward. Taking a moment to rest, Chuck’s nose was comfortably between her ample breasts.
The naga concentrated on forcing his mouth still wider. A popping sound gave rise to the entire mechanism of his mouth loosening. With one more mighty pull he swallowed breasts, then hips and generous rump. Time was of the essence here. He was exposed in the streets. The hard part was done and Chuck rose up, gravity helping the long legs and feet to vanish into his gullet. Work done, he fled into the alleyway and into the waiting vehicle.
There wasn’t a need to move his prey to his stronger stomach. There would be several hours before he attempted to detain his final victim. The giant snake coiled up to sleep in the van, his hand resting on his lower belly where his son resided, safe in his egg.
“Masterful work sir.” The driver said. Chuck grunted and slid his shades on. “I don’t think I’ve seen faster.”
Turning on his side so his distended stomach wouldn’t hamper breathing, Chuck spoke. “I’ve been at this kind of work for twenty years. Nothing to it but lots of practice.” He yawned, let out a mighty belch and pulled a blanket over himself. Something didn’t seem right. The driver’s piercing eyes had flashed from dark brown to a light blue.
Everything changed, including Chuck himself. Before him stood the elder deity, Tartarus, holding the opalescent egg containing everything Chuck had worked so hard towards. Chuck realized he was still in his bed. He wiggled his toes to make sure he had them. They were there, none of the muscles he’d used as a snake responded in his head. Chuck threw himself forward, over the foot of the bed at the god. He was prepared to fight tooth and nail for his son. He hit the floor, egg in hand, black smoke swirling around him. He’d bitten his tongue on the way down but that was a small price to pay. He had his son.