Tropical Ambience

It wasn't often that she found herself stranded, lost, hopelessly alone on a tropical desert island, but the world-renowned model, Amy Erin Blackshire, had found herself in such a predicament. The sun scorched her pale skin, tanning her as she lay on the platinum, sandy shore, gazing out beyond the azure horizon of the not-too-distant, Venezuelan coast. She was far from home, undoubtedly, what with the bright emerald-green bikini barely shielding her enormous, heaving breasts from the salty spray as the waves crashed against the rocky shoreline, or the matching thong that concealed her sweet womanhood, containing her natural honey. The twenty-one-year-old was in her prime, physically, with a toned, well defined abdomen, shapely, shimmering thighs and calves that appeared to stretch on forever. Her hair was kissed by the stars, a stunning blend of white and silver, tied into a long, free-flowing ponytail that tickled the middle of her smooth back. Her eyes were of the deepest sapphire, a sharp contrast to her pale, albeit light, appearance. It was no surprise then, that she had won British top model of the year two years running.
    Unfortunately, she was well and truly stranded. The party boat carrying her friends had been attacked by an unknown creature, and Amy had managed to swim to shore before she joined the rapidly growing pool of blood forming around the sinking vessel. It had been a few hours, though, since the incident occurred, and she had calmed down somewhat, her breathing rate returning to normal, and her mind at ease. Empathy, compassion and remorse were traits that the bright-haired, busty model did not possess, a negative quality that served her poorly back in reality. However, now that was alone on a tropical island, she figured that no one would have a word or two to say about her monolithic, egotistical nature. If there was one thing she could say positively about her current location, it was that it was simply gorgeous, picturesque and outrageously captivating. In some ways, she was glad to be alone, for she was a young woman who prided herself on her desire for privacy — the press had no knowledge at all of her private deeds.
    She stood up, dusting the crystal clear sand from her round, firm bottom and gazed around. The fortress of endless palm trees stood like a tyrant before her, making her feel small and terribly insignificant. Still, her belly rumbled and complained, begging for attention, and she couldn't deny her predatory urges. Amy needed to feed.
    Her naked feet cracked against the fall palm branches, kicking up sand as the distant chorus of crashing waves began to fade from her memory. It was even more humid in the forest, and the trees were so close together, compact and knit into one continuous stream of greenery. However beautiful, there wasn't a shred of life to be found, save for the giant beetles that patrolled the scorching undergrowth. The only thing she could find was a gathering of coconuts on a fallen palm tree, a form of nutrition she actively disliked.
    Amy raced back to the shore, her breasts bouncing beneath her skimpy bikini bra, and retrieved the machete knife that drifted onto the island along with various other items that were of little to no use at all. She returned to the coconuts and sliced a few of them open, drinking the precious water and wiping her pert, full lips clean afterwards. The white interior, although revolting to her tastebuds, was filling nonetheless. If she was going to survive the onslaught of heat, loneliness and the possibility of being stuck on the island for an extended period of time, she had to eat and drink whatever she could get her hands on. Fortunately for her, the island was ruled by coconuts, as far as the eye could dare to see.
    Unbeknownst to the young, daring model, she wasn't as alone as she was lead to believe.
    A pair of hungry, famished eyes locked onto her like a hawk, analysing every square inch of her young, nubile form, tasting the delicious scent particles that danced through its heat pits. It would only be a matter of time before the giant, stranded reptile tasted the flesh of the stranger from another land.
    Amy had drunk and consumed the contents of several coconuts before something caught her eye in the distance. There was a clearing in the forest, protected from the sun by a canopy of thick palm leaves. In the centre was a wild pig of some sorts, just foraging without a care in the world. She licked her lips. Pork - her undisputed favourite. She quickly decided, without any conflict-of-mind, that she was going to kill the wild pig, her gurgling stomach simply wouldn't allow her to decide otherwise.
    The young model grabbed the machete knife and crept silently — much like a shadow — towards the clearing in the forest. Her sweaty fingers clutched the handle tightly, squeezing the rubber as she licked her lips once again. She was creeping up on the unknowing herbivore like a spotted leopard, clawing the ground as she waited for the opportune moment. She didn't have to wait a great deal of time, for as the unusually fatty wild pig turned its back on her, Amy pounced from the thorny bush, the tip of the blade dazzling as her eyes screamed a story of hungry lust. The wild pig simply screeched and avoided the ambush, darting off before she could sink the sharpened piece of metal into its sumptuous flesh.
    Fuck!
    Amy landed in the soft earth of the clearing and cursed her luck at the missed opportunity.
    She needed to kill that wild pig, and she wasn't about to give up. She tried to move her legs but, to her immediate horror, discovered that they wouldn't budge an inch, much less her arms as her elbows appeared to sink.
    It didn't take a genius to figure out what she had landed in — quicksand. A gigantic, apparently abyssal, pit of quicksand, and it was fast-acting to bind her in place. It was wet, sloppy and swirled around her legs, dragging her down as she kicked wildly, trying to free herself from a watery grave. Amy gritted her teeth, summoning her strength as she grabbed a vine. A smile stretched across her pale lips, threatening to eradicate her blushing cheeks as hope filled her heart as it thundered along at an inhuman pace. The quicksand seemed to have a conscience entirely its own, like a thousand hands were grabbing her at once, drawing her further and further into the watery abyss, where death waited to embrace her.
    The quicksand reached to the bottom of her round breasts before a completely new sound infiltrated her ears.
    Hiss…
    From the canopy slithered what had to be the largest green anaconda the busty blonde had ever laid eyes on — it was simply colossal. Its scales shined brightly, its heavy, bulky coils thudding against the side of the pit, a pair of black, soulless, beady eyes slicing through her soul, filling her with an icy feeling that couldn't be ignored. Its black forked-tongue flickered in and out repeatedly, tasting the air as its scaly, shovel-like head bobbed back and forth, analysing her situation. In a shocking move that stunned the young model, the tail of the anaconda wrapped thrice around her petite waist, squeezing firmly as the rest of the enormous, smelly serpent disappeared back into the canopy above. With a great deal of force, the anaconda pulled Amy out of the quicksand's grasp, creating a sticky, plopping sound as she was lifted high into the air.
    At first, she was immeasurably grateful, but when the anaconda returned and bit into her shoulder, her moment of joy turned sour.
    Using her left shoulder as support, the giant constrictor began spinning the helpless, busty blonde in circles, rapidly wrapping and twisting its chunky, scaly body around her own, trapping her arms at her sides and crushing them as though they were twigs. The coils whipped to and fro, pinning her already exhausted limbs to her body, squashing her muscular legs together with frightening ease. The fat coil sliding around her belly actually tickled her at first, the soft, velvet-like scales tugging against her sensitive abdominals and teasing her quivering, sun-kissed navel, but when the first wave of constriction arrived — all thoughts of pleasure were thrown out the window. The anaconda had rescued her from a watery grave, but Amy realised that there was only one thing on its primitive mind — hunger. Much like herself, the colossal, ageing constrictor had been dumped on the island by private breeders, as it had become too big to keep, thus, it was starving.
    She was perfect as a meal, and the anaconda wasn't going to take any chances. Its gigantic coils smothered her in the blink of an eye, six of them rotating perpendicular to one another around her muscular, yet soft body, forcing the precious oxygen from her lungs.
    Amy croaked. "H-help…m-eeee! Uhk!"
    The anaconda's coils simply responded by winding tighter, setting her lungs ablaze.
    Concealed within the canopy of a large palm tree, there was hope of rescue, not this time.
    The coils crushed again, grinding against her bones and threatening to splinter her ribcage. There was a faint cracking sound as Amy grated her pearly white teeth together, trying her best to take the constriction being dolled out upon her young, busty body. Her muscles ached and throbbed as the constriction continued, forcing her into submission as she weighed up her limited options, and — to her dread — discovered that there was no avenues left to take. She was doomed.
    There was a guttural purring sound as the anaconda slithered slowly up to the top of her pretty head, and opened impossibly wide. Its pink, fleshy windpipe slipped freely from its stinky maw, and Amy weakly peered upwards into the inky darkness, spying what lay in store for her. Flecks of hot saliva fell on her forehead as the giant anaconda began the horrific, yet somewhat elegant, task of swallowing her whole, and alive. She would've adored a fight, but the busty model could only offer a croaky moan in response, her lungs had been crushed, her ribcage obliterated by the tightening bands of solid muscle working so hard to keep her subdued. Her nostrils were filled with the foul odour of the constrictor's previous victim as it slipped its elastic jaws over her crown, taking her head inside its deep, saliva-infested throat. The recurved teeth formed light pinpricks on her pale skin as it walked down, covering her eyes in darkness as Amy groaned, seeing the last of the outside world before she accepted the inevitability of her somewhat imongiznious demise. Down the anaconda travelled, sucking her inside with a repulsive hissing sound, as though someone was breathing heavily, drooling at a group of exotic dancers performing a show.
    Amy groaned feebly. "Oh…s-someone…help…me…ohhh…"
    The scales stretched over her face, masking her expression of utter terror as the anaconda continued to have its way with her. The coils continued to squeeze, hugging her voluptuously. The throat seemed to invite her for dinner, and she could feel the pink, fleshy inner muscles tighten around her, essentially pushing her further inside. It was a strange process, but one she wasn't entirely alien to. She had seen royal pythons eating mice before, and enjoyed watching their final breaths depart them, she never realised that it would be her one day. The anaconda's jaws made short work of her shoulders, the only obstacle left and last chance for salvation. They slipped over them, the coils rotating Amy aggressively to the side, so that the anaconda could walk horizontally over the shoulders, making her easier to swallow.
    By now her chest and shoulders, including her head, were caked in hot saliva, the inner muscles pushing her along, gradually increasing in speed as the hunger of the voracious constrictor increased as the anticipation became too much to handle. The anaconda continued onwards, sucking her down, the coils grinding against her child-bearing hips, and although she would never actually have a child, Amy enjoyed the sensation of the thick, meaty coils pressing up against her seeping womanhood. It was pleasing to her virgin mind to have something touching her there before the end.
    There was another deafening plopping sound as Amy's meaty, wobbling breasts were taken inside, with great difficulty albeit, by the hungry anaconda. Drool lashed over her erect nipples as she moaned, the echoes faint from the outside, but not entirely indiscernible.
    "Mmmm…oh…" she croaked from inside her predator's writhing, scaly body.
    Her breasts were neatly framed by the anaconda's scales, as well as her shocked, yet somewhat pleased expression. Amy knew that hope had all but dissipated by now, but she was in a state of forced euphoria, the coils pressing firmly against her drenched womanhood, teasing her. They slipped off lethargically the further the anaconda travelled, keeping her in place and obedient — there was no resisting the raw power of the ginormous constrictor. Her belly was next, her hand slipping lazily from her smooth abdominals as she began to drift in and out of consciousness. The heat, combined with the fear of being digested alive were starting to overwhelm her mind. Still, she could do absolutely nothing as the anaconda sucked her hips in, its devilish forked-tongue lapping underneath her bikini thong and tasting her virgin juices before continuing on its merry way down her shapely thighs. They proved difficult to swallow as they were meaty and plump, as well as her amazing bottom which would've been the envy of many men, and women — but not to be, she would serve another purpose after all. Alone in the tree, being swallowed by a giant green anaconda — what hope did the busty model have to boast of?
    At last, her naked soles, belonging to her wiggling feet were sucked inside, the last evidence of her existence. Each toe was given a thorough lick and once over before the anaconda sucked every essence of her inside its cavernous throat. From the outside, one would be able to see the shape of a gorgeous model lying in the tight stomach of the anaconda, waiting to be cruelly digested…alive. The whimpers she produced were barely audible, and there was only one hanging around to hear them, the anaconda itself, that duly reshaped its elastic jaws and rested its bulbous head on its bed of coils. Amy's body was curved to how the constrictor wanted her, and all she could do was lie perfectly still, trapped in a slimy, misty cocoon of flesh, waiting for the digestive enzymes to begin breaking her soft tissue down, before going right through her brittle bones, crushed moments ago by the powerful, dominating coils.