"Strengths - firearms, acrobatics, knowledge of the ancient world
Weaknesses - tight spaces, strip poker, Aunt's Corgi"
Excerpt from SHIELD files on Croft, Lara
Masanori Hotel, Kingdom of Macromastia-
Lara was no stranger to travel and indeed prided herself on being a connoisseur of the globe. Seeking the absolute peaks and plunging depths society could offer. Having crashed the trendiest night clubs gyrating her gorgeous body against throngs of lucky admirers in between exploring the murky depths of the Parisian catacombs. Dined privately with the likes of Bruce Wayne as well as shared meals with the Bedouin tribesmen of the Sahara. The dizzying high and allure of one only equaled by her next escapade, her next adventure. So hoping onto a waiting private jet at Tokonosu airport and flying down to an obscure micro-nation sight unseen wasn't too outlandish for Croft who had well inherited her family's twin excesses of wanderlust and indulgence. Not to mention its reputation for beauty and pose.
And in that case the island Kingdom of Macromastia might have been tailored made for her. The reclusive kingdom as far from your typical tourist spot as could be but rather a trashy fusion of far and near East sensibilities and ultra-modern Western futurism aesthetics. Traditional red-lacquered pagoda and eastern minarets competed with washed out, glittering neon drenched steel and glass skyscrapers on overcrowded streets. And populated by people from just as many walks of life.
A nebulous blackhole were criminals, arms dealers even the odd terrorist could live and work free from retribution for the right price. Where almost anything and everything was up for barter. From the latest secret black ops R&D technology to ancient relics pilfered the world over. Through simply buying the latter, Lara mused, really took the fun out of the whole affair.
Twisting her head, Lara raised an arm behind her lifting her long, braided hair out of the way as she slipped the other strap of her clinging, blue dress over her shoulder. Muscles in her back scissoring as she caused her jutting torpedo tits to swell and rise. The deepening ravine of her cleavage peeking up past the shrinking blue fabric as it struggled to once again contain her firm, bullet tits.
Finished she let go of her braid allowing it to swish back behind her straightening head. Jade dragon pendant affixed to the back of her ponytail. The glittering jewel inserted for the reptile's eye sparkling magnificently in the room's light. Almost as much as the masterfully cut diamonds of the Heritage Croft she wore in a glittering wreath around her swan-like neck. Helping call attention to her rising, almost unreal bullet tits jutting outward from her chest. Plunging neckline pushed far apart ton contain her creamy, pale flesh from seeping out. Fat edges of her boobs rising out from the side of the taunt, blue fabric which molded itself across the remaining other half of each tit. Pink edge of her areoles peeking out from around the corner while her nipples pitched little tents beneath the blue fabric.
Peering down at herself, admiring how the dress hugged her curves, the Tomb Raider raised the big, bulky gray Dynatac cellular phone back to her ear.
"Sorry." Lara spoke in a tone which suggested she was anything but." Could you say that again, reception is bollocks out here."
The Brunette smiling to herself as she heard Zip's exasperated sigh half a world away from her. The archeologist peering over her shoulder down the round swell of her magnificent posterior. A hand lightly tracing down along her sunken waist past her hip as she cradled one plump, full crescent-moon. Fingers sinking into the pliant flesh beneath the tight fabric as she inspected her ass giving it an experimental squeeze.
"Just wondering what possessed you to tag along with a mysterious woman to who knows where. And a destination of Marcromastia of all places." Zip said coming as close to scolding his employer as he dared." I did a little off the record snooping through Interpol's database, the CIA's, SHIELD's and you know what I got? Eye strain and a wasted afternoon. I don't know what your friend is involved in but it isn't just a South Seas cruise. I'm just worried this could be the Atlantis incident all over again."
"First Amanda, then Natla. I do have a habit of attracting crazy women who want to use me to bring the end of the world, get their revenge on me or simply bed me. If not all three." Lara admitted finally looking up from admiring her spectacular rear." Still, that's half the fun isn't it? Besides you looked into Anastasia's backstory and didn't turn anything up."
That last part delivered with just a hint of a cheeky tone as she baited her electronic and digital expert. Not for a moment doubting he was right but wanting to see if he could prove it. After she was a Croft after all. A family lineage which had been interwoven with the wealth and power of the British Empire itself for centuries. Taking pride that she would never, ever be a slave either to man or fate.
"It was more what I didn't turn up. Go through the usual channels and you can dig up her birth certificate, parents' name, find her passport. All the basic keystones to 20th century life. But no job history, no property to her name, no tax record for any country going back fifteen years. I couldn't even find evidence of her belonging to a video club. This alleged Countess Dimitrescu she's working for has even fewer records. Largely just that of her family vineyard going back to the 50's." Zip explained patiently.
Lara meanwhile walked over towards her bed. A slight strut to her shapely legs, hips wiggling side to side, as she did turning and sitting on the edge of the bed. Plump cheeks sinking down against the soft mattress which molded itself hugging her shapely rear. The auburn-haired woman leaning forward, breasts nearly spilling out of her top, as she reached for and began to slip on her high heels.
"Your problem is, you're asking the wrong questions, Zip." Lara teased him as she worked the tip of her sleek, stocking clad foot into the confines of her shoe.
Tugging it upwards over her heel. The edge of her arm pressing against the side of her heaving breast and as she tugged pushed the jiggling, jutting tit more and more to expose itself. Creamy flesh swelling out into the open as the blue fabric retreated across the escaping breast-flesh. Dragging across her pink nipple which slowly flicked itself out stiffen from the physical stimulation and the cold caress of the naked air.
A look of annoyance crossing Lara's face as she paused in her efforts and scooped her wayward tit back into place. Tugging on the edge of her dress's material as she stuffed her torpedo back into place.
"It's not who Anastasia really is but what's she after and how much worse the world will be if she beats me to it." She continued once her girl was safely back in place.
Resuming putting her heel on her other foot, shifting her mobile phone to her other ear in the process. From the other end Zip was quiet for a moment processing what she said. When he spoke there was a certain wry amusement behind his words.
"You just really want to explore Skull Island, don't you? Perhaps the one last untouched spot on the globe. Full of unknown and exotic dangers. Just the sort of challenge you eat like candy." Her computer expert said, comprehension dawning.
Lara feeling her cheeks flushed at being so clearly seen-through. Fancying herself as a world's class dissembler. Second only to her marvelous skills at sucking cock.
"Well I was also thinking about the book deal I could get linking Skull Island to Atlantis. Perhaps the highest elevations of the lost Lemurian continent that sank beneath the sea? You got to admit a giant, monstrous ape does sound like something with Natla's fingerprints. Already thought the angle would be half historical research and half busty, pulp adventure." The Tomb Raider quickly added trying to save face.
Standing up she posed thrusting out her chest inspecting her slinky dress one last time when the sound of ripping fabric caused the stately, beautiful mature woman to regress to a bratty, whining child.
"Bloody hell! Not again!" She cried as the edge of her dress covering her left breast began to unravel and split apart under the strain of what it contained." This is the third dress my baps keep ripping out of!"
Forlornly thinking how, since her last few cc's added to her ample femininity, her prized tits kept landing her in trouble. How they'd gotten her stuck wedged in booby-hell in an air ventilation passage during that affair with Amanda in New York alone enough to make the woman's beautiful face frown. Yet no less was the fact that the in the whirlwind of events leading up to her attempting to steal Montezuma's Lament, let alone her recovering after that entire hectic debacle with Amanda, Lara hadn't had a chance to completely replaced her old wardrobe.
Watching as the initial nip partway down the side of her heaving breast's large swell split inward across it. Creamy flesh push through widening the growing gap the fraying edges sinking beneath the enveloping, firm mass until-*Pop*
There was a final ripping sound as the cloth was torn asunder fluttering as it snapped apart from the escaping tit bursting forth. The last, gossamer strands tickling Lara's nipple as it emerged. Stiff bud prickling against the naked air as the Tomb raider clasped a hand supporting her bullet tit and the bottom half of her torn dress. The woman's eyes narrowing into angry daggers inspecting the damage. The sound of barely suppressed laughter reaching her ears from the phone still cradled against her head.
"And stop laughing. This isn't funny, I'm supposed to attend a little gathering downstairs in a few minutes and I can't keep my fucking baps contained!" She hissed at him.
Through with her sexy voice her anger came out more as a sultry sulk than anything else. Which was one of the terrible burdens as being as sexy as she was. Lara could even make being angry sexy.
"Well I'm sure they wouldn't mind that." Zip replied in a strained voice that said he was fighting a losing battle to keep from laughing.
Lara about to remind him exactly who it was who signed his paychecks, her butler but only because a Croft could hardly be expected to deal with something so banal, when she heard an electronic chirp of a game from Zip's side of the conversation followed by a familiar "game over" music.
"Damn it, Zip!" Lara cursed, her exposed breast forgotten for the moment." Are you playing that bloody 8-bit boob game of me? Again?"
Curling her hand to rest on her hip as she spoke thrusting out her chest for emphasis. Which only caused her free tit to bounce and wobble freely in an excited, happy waggle as she spoke. Remembering how he'd unveiled her digital doppelganger to help Lara through the walkthrough for the Montezuma's Lament heist. Complete with large, pixilated bust bouncing up and down with each move the player made the digital Lara perform.
"At least until I finish coding that 32-bit, fully three-dimensional version I've been prototyping." Zip said cheekily, noticeable pride in his voice." Combined with modern ultrasound techniques and computer modeling you could use it to discover a tomb's pitfalls beforehand."
Lara inhaled a little trying to control her temper. Her chest swelling out even further as the right strap began to fray and snap.
"Listen. I am the 11th Countess of Abbingdon and world famous explorer. My face, and body, adorn magazines from Playboy to scientific monthly. Publicity photos, posters both motivational and sensual. But there is one thing Lara Croft is not and that's a bloody video game character!"
She said, quite firmly she thought, rather annoyed with Zip's odd obsession and hobby. Her sense of authority only slightly undone as her right boob seeped through the splitting seam of her dress. The over taunt fabric shearing apart as it was catapulted away from the expanding mass of her jutting torpedoes. Just as her clinging blue dress, no longer held up at all by this point, shimmied pooling down around Lara's heels leaving the stacked explorer standing there in nothing but her garters and panties. Jutting tits heaving in and out with her breath.
"Not. One. Word." Lara hissed through clenched teeth at Zip.
Standing there among the ruins of her elegant dress wholly incapable of containing her torpedo baps.
"I don't know what you mean." She heard her computer expert reply over the phone in a tone that did nothing to convince her.
Somewhat muffled in the background she also heard the digital victory music playing as Zip cleared a stage. Completely with bongo-like sound effects for her game counterpart as the latter did a happy, twirling dance off to the right of the level screen.
"When I get back remind me how much I'm paying you so I can dock it." Lara said stepping out of the ruined tatters of her dress.
She then walked around to her suitcase sitting opened on her bed. The heels of her shoes clicking against the floor as her hips swayed causing the plump, crescent-moons of her cheeks to softly clap together. Shifting the brick-sized cellular phone to her other ear, arm grazing across one jutting breast, Lara leaned over as she started to rummage through searching for something which might just be able to accommodate her monstrous rack.
Her prized femininity jiggling, swaying beneath her as she leaned forward. Fabulous bullet tits for once not immune to the tug of gravity pulling the conical breasts downward. The mere friction of the air rushing across her exposed buds as they hung and wobbled swinging enough to send chills and tingling sensation shooting through the brunette. The side of one catching the corner edge of the suitcase with a jolt and flipping it onto the side spilling the contents out across her bed.
"Bullocks" Lara gasped straightening back out.
"So is that something else I don't know what you're talking about?" She heard her computer expert cheekily ask in her ear.
"You know I think I liked it more when you were concerned for my safety. Speaking of which, what is old crazy eyes getting herself into now?" Lara asked deliberately changing the subject away from her bloody baps for a change.
And it wasn't because she was actually curious what her former friend and roommate was up too. No, absolutely not. She barely thought about those carefree college days the two of them had shared together.
"Amanda? I've been keeping tabs on her like you wanted. She's actually made it easy for once." Zip answered, rustling sound heard as the dark-skinned man looked around for a yellow notepad filled with notations." After the, um…incident in New York she hung around for a few days hitting the usual tabloids insinuating how you were to blame for everything. Thankfully she can't connect you without incriminating herself so that mostly fizzled. Then she photobombed Playboy and Maxim with a lingerie spread of herself trying to entice them to do an interview."
On his side of the phone, Zip's gaze lingered on the page of his notepad where one of the photo's was paper clipped to the sheet of paper. Purely for reference purposes of course. The computer expert eventfully curling the yellow page over reading his next set of notes.
"On a more worrying note, after all that she hopped on a private jet to Frankfurt. Apparently rumors reached her that Dr. Frankenstein's original journal might have been uncovered there and she's trying to track it down."
In her hotel room Lara held up a shimmering dress against herself appraising how well it went with graceful, jutting curves. Frowning slightly she discarded and reached for another.
"So for those of us keeping score, Amanda's quest to upstage me has seen her searching for fabled Avalon, pilfering an Aztec Idol of unfathomable power and now hunting for a German Gothic grimoire. At least that last one's on brand considering how she dresses." Lara remarked with an almost sisterly pride at her rival's resilience and determination." Still pencil me in to swipe it should she actually turn up Frankenstein's "Secrets of Life and Death". I think it would look quite good over the mantle fireplace, don't you?"
"Lara…" Zip groaned, flashbacks to the New York heist flashing through his mind.
"-and prevent her from meddling in things man, or woman in this case, was not meant to know. Mostly that and not the other thing I said." The busty brunette was quick to add to mollify Zip before smiling finding the perfect outfit.
Before she could see if it could contain her wonder twins however the torpedo-tit explorer heard a knock from her door and Anastasia's muffled voice from the other side putting a most pleased smile on the Brunette's lips.
"Got to run. If you can dig up anything more about my host or this Skull Island just fax it to the hotel. I'll be sure to look it over tonight…if I'm not too busy." Lara said wickedly interrupting Zip's protest as she hung up her brick cellphone.
Tossing it onto the bed she looked back down at her dress as her eyes lit up deviously deciding against putting it on as she made her way over to her hotel door.
"That you, Anastasia? Just a second I'm just getting dressed." Lara said through the door preparing her best "bedroom eyes".
Her full, pouty lips puckered just ever so slightly to make them look even more kissable than usual as she ran a hand along her braided ponytail artisticly draping it over her shoulder then running her hands down along her sides. Her slender, feminine fingers gliding forward cupping the edges of her pointy breasts as she give them a small heft making sure they were thrusting firmly off of her chest. Tweaking and rubbing her nipples causing the pink buds to swell out a little further before reaching for the door.
"Tell me truthfully, is my outfit a bit much?" Lara asked smoothly pulling the door open with a flourish and leaning into the doorframe all at once.
Which unfortunately resulted in the door being jammed as it caught the edge of her left breast. Her incredibly firm, creamy tit slightly deforming from its conical point sinking inward from the resulting pressure before it hit an unmovable mass and pushed back. Edges of what was the world's most desirable vanilla sundae bubbling outward against either side of the stuck door the two squished tightly together.
Muttering, her dramatic moment ruined, Lara took a half step back on her high heels. The sculpted, round heart of her perfect ass wiggling as the muscles in her milky thighs rippled in motion. Gaining enough space to open the door fully.
Only then did she notice Anastasia's outfit. It was of an eastern style clearly modeled after a Chinese Qipao. A rich, pageant red material which hugged the raven-haired woman's long legs, excessively curvy hips and narrow waist. It would have been painfully too small to encompass the secret Cobra agent's spectacular round globes only a slit had been carved across the front of the dress far longer and wider than even the more daring plunging window.
Instead the edges of the clingy, shimmering crimson material had been folded back beneath the rising swell of proud, circular breast vanishing from view underneath the shadowy of the creamy mass. Her naked and unadorned bosom on fully display rising upwards and outwards with each inflated breath only to sink back down as the woman exhaled. Spherical, buoyant edges squeezing together each time she did drawing all eyes towards the deep canyon of her undulating cleavage.
At the sight of Lara, Anastasia smiled from behind her sexy librarian glasses as she reached her hands upwards to adjust her long, black hair pulled up into a bun and held in place with a snake-shaped pendant of gold and red rubies. Arching shoulders pushing those mammoth melons out even further towards Lara.
"Wonderfully decadent choice, you look marvelous." The dark-haired woman observed admiring Lara's "outfit" of little more than heels and her knickers." And I was worried you wouldn't be ready yet for our little party."
The busty Tomb Raider even looking down at herself half expecting her chosen dress to have materialized upon her voluptuous frame only to find her chin resting on, and her field of vision eclipsed by, her unrestrained bullet tits.
"I think I missed something." Was the Brunette's confused response.
Retreating enough into the room to allow Anastasia's entrance all the while her eyes were glued to the other woman's huge hooters rising and falling with her seductive gait.
"Oh not at all, Darling. You've displayed a remarkable grasp of Macromastia's traditional female garb. All this time you were playing dumb, clearly you've visited this charming kingdom before haven't you?"
While all the way over in his workshop and office, the sounds of electronic music playing in the background as a digital Lara played her bouncy victory dance on a loop, Zip read the very scant print-out on Macrosmastia culture he'd been able to obtain. The words "breast-obsessed" and lacking in "nudity taboos" written in red and underlined and he smiled crumpling the paper up.
"Wish I could be there." He thought dreamily resuming playing his game.
Cobra Temple, Location Unknown
Designed as much as a gaudy demonstration of strength and power by the megalomaniacal Commander as a practical military base much of the mountain facility's interior was given over to impractical and downright ostentatious designs. From the lavish, Olympian sized throne room constructed with ample space to enclose half a regiment of combat troops in parade formation plus a mechanized Corp of Hiss Tanks to stand at attention for blue-uniformed fool to an entire wing dedicated to a gladiatorial colosseum where traitors and disciplinary problems battled each other or the latest genetic aberration created by Dr. Mindbender.
To say nothing of the inner temple itself, nestled deeply within the fortified base, with its over-indulgent and melodramatic aesthetics meant to invoke something primal and primitive in the human brain. Gas-fed torches rather than electric lights, over-sized scale from the roof to the seating arrangements designed to make an occupant feel small even gold-scaled, jewel-encrusted serpent statues. Some of which could even more and speak brought to life by an army of the most advanced electronics the world had ever known. Or at least it was up to the end of the Carter Administration.
An immaculate and impossible tiny spool of memory tape housed inside each robotic snake allowing it to recite and lead a congregation of the slow-witted and gullible in what the Commander described as the binding ethos and religious heart of the Cobra organization. To Destro it was merely an exercise in the Commander's self-adoration and aggrandizement taken to hereto unheard of levels where he conspired to turn himself into a public idol of veneration.
Yet these efforts, with all their wasteful expenditures of time and energy, did not quite compare to the Scottish Lord's own personal chambers. As much as museum, or perhaps to the more cynical eye a tomb, as a residence everything from the texture of the walls down to the color of the tapestries which hung off of them had been modeled and recreated from his ancestral castle. The latter now long since reduced to mere memory and rubble thanks to the meddling of GI Joe and a very vengeful Baroness in one of her moods.
A touch of the gothic hanging over the room and that went double for the sinister with ghostly suits of armor lining the walls, lurid oiled paintings and other trophies proudly on display. A perfect match both for Destro's cold exterior and the virile fires of passion which burned deep within his scarred chest.
Ilsa, her long blonde hair undulating in golden waves down her back, leaned forward over a glass display as she reached around to light a candle. One of several dozen which lit the room and added to the ethereal, otherworldly nature of it. The front of her over-stretched uniform pressing forward against the glass cabinet. The crimson emblem across the front distorting shrinking between her ponderous peaks as the front of her breasts flatten against the barrier. Pushing outward to the sides as the overtaxed stitching of her uniform strained to contain the shifting mass.
So too encumbered was the seat of her royal blue pants which cradled the twin, plump half circles wiggling as the blonde stretched to reach all the candles on the wall mount. Right cheek rising up a noticeable few millimeters more than its sister for a moment as she completed the action before springing back down with an elastic bounce. A widening crevice forming between each jostling crescent as her uniform became wedged between them.
Finishing she lifted herself off from the display only then did she take note of what she'd been using as a boob stand. Peering down with quizzical eyes past silky pangs to a gleaming, six-fingered gauntlet of silver metal laying in a place of prominence on a pillow of crushed velvet and white lace. Even to a novice such as herself, Ilsa could sense the heavy toll of age and time hanging over the hand even through its metal was as polished and unblemished as the day it had been forged.
"It's beautiful." She observed admiringly breaking her silence.
The blonde sensing large, powerful form of her lover behind her or rather feeling those flint-like eyes of jade as they admired her shapely rear. Raising the long stem of the match holder to her lips to blow it out the edge of her arm crossing against the side of her right breast causing taunt blue material to heave and swell over the side of her arm. Warm tit-flesh spreading out beneath the cerulean fabric enveloping the upper portion of her wrist.
A most enticing prize which the Scottish Lord claimed who approached from behind Ilsa his diamond-hard body brushing up against her comely one. The curvy blonde feeling a slight flush of excitement, an electric tingle running up from her belly at the touch of those rock-hard abs pressing up against her. Rippling, muscular arms powerful enough to crush the life from a man yet exceedingly delicate and gentle as they now slide around her moving beneath her own arms. Metal clad fingers sliding across her bust dimpling them with pressure as each tit began to mushroom and expand outward from the kneading palms.
A small, needful mewling sound escaping Ilsa's pouty lips. The blonde's own hips moving backwards on their own accord as she ground the full, round curve of her rear up against her teasing lover. Cheeks squeezing together running up and down along the length of the waiting Big Destro straining to escape the Scottish Lord's pants.
"Yes, but only half as beautiful as what I now possess my dear." Destro, when he finally spoke, whispered into the squirming blonde's ear." A most pleasant if unexpected treat but then you always have a knack for turning up when I need you most, don't you."
His voice like distant thunder, powerful and potent with coiled energy waiting to be unleashed in a torrential display. Feeling the cold chill of his beryllium-steel mask on her neck followed by oh so very warm and alive caress of his mouth.
Her heavy, full breasts rising overflowing like dough from his squeezing hands undulating with each palatable contraction of those strong, masculine fingers. Spilling over the edges of his armored hands. Those dark, green eyes of his, emerald pinpricks looking out from the engulfing shadows, looking down over her shoulder as the wrestling blue material stretching across the woman's soft, D-cup breasts.
"I wanted to surprise you. Candles, soft music to greet you. A warm bath drawn for those….oooh….sculpted muscles of yours." The girl shivered arching her shoulders against the chiseled granite Destro called a chest.
From beneath his gleaming, immobile mask the Scottish Lord smiled and not just from the rather ponderous tits being reshaped and molded in his tyrannical hands. Tip of his gauntlet finger tracing over the increasingly obvious nipple poking out from beneath the stretching fabric. Running over it, circling around even feeling the puffy point being squashed beneath the weight of his digit only to bounce back the instant the pressure was removed.
"T-To make up….hmmmmph….make up a little for the….kiyaaa…trouble I caused." Ilsa whimpered through gritted teeth.
If Destro's voice was a storm hers was the soothing, loving laps of waves against some tropical shore. Rising higher and higher into a girlish squeak as her plump, heavy girls were manhandled pink-bubbles of pleasure shooting through her delirious mind.
"How sweetly touching my mischievous little minx." Destro's gravelly voice said soothingly.
Isla feeling his cock stiffen even more than it already had twitching from where it was buried sliding between her thick ass cheeks as he remembered the woman's unprovoked and mind-melting blowjob and how it had nearly been uncovered by the Baroness with whom he had been engaged in a video communication. Vividly remembering Ilsa's teasing expression as she sensually tortured the head of his aching cock…but only the tip. The rest of pulsating member submerged between those ponderous twins of hers.
"Yet somehow, knowing your previous track record towards orders, I imagine this was prompted more by the Baroness's command than a specific concern for my well-being." He prompted with an amused chuckle.
"Can't it be both?" Isla replied with a catty playfulness her breath quickening as she craned her neck allowing Destro further access to it." So what if I want to leave a fucking mess of blonde hairs all over that prudish cow's pillow."
Gasping a little as her lover's hand reached down to the hem of her much too small uniform shirt peeling it from her stomach just enough for his cold, metal hand to slide underneath. Cupping her breast without any hindrance of material to get in between him and his ministrations.
Turning his head away from the golden-haired woman he gave a curt nod to the pair of living suits of armors flanking either side of the large, polished oak door which separated this sanctum from the greater Cobra Temple. A pair of very specially modified and programed Battle Armored Troopers. Ones which included special, hard coded instructions not to report on matters such as this if asked by the Baroness. The Lord having learned he could always count on the discretion of machines rather flesh and blood loyalty faltered. Each android carrying an assault rifle with an attached, monomolecular bayonet slung over its ferrous shoulder in parade fashion giving the pair impressive lethality at both long and short ranges.
At his signal the two machines, their movements smoother and more articulate than your typical BATS, turned in unison on their heels opening and stepping through the door to resume matching positions on the other side. Leaving the two lovers alone as Destro began to raise Ilsa's uniform up over her sternum. Bottom cleavage dropping into view beneath the peeling uniform. Creamy boob-flesh mushrooming outward beneath the peeling material like two big, white chocolate kisses with one breast and then the other shimming as it finally fell free. The pink edge of her nipple slowly tracing along tenting the uniform fabric until the puffy bud was exposed.
The muscular man's body rippling as his hips rocked moving upwards against the full, padded rear of the gasping woman. The cold steel of his mask nuzzling her silky hair the color of sunshine. His own low, rugged breath quicken ever so slightly in time with the swollen head of his bulge as it emerged up from between the valley of her plump crescent cheeks. Seat of her well-filled pants undulating as them enveloped and swallowed his trailing package blue fabric closing around his dark material as his throbbing member sunk back down out of sight.
"Does my Hero liked that? Being treated like the princely knight he deserves to be?" Ilsa her voice dripping with lust.
Despite that her eyes drew into half-slits in a most feminine sense of pride and deep-seated jealousy at surpassing her rival. Bending a little more the cheeks of her ass sinking firmer against her lover's manly, powerful thighs compressing against them which only squeezed his trembling cock even tighter her embrace. Sliding along his length as she felt his head crest free once more mushrooming over the roof of her bubble butt.
"The stick up her ass is too big, she doesn't have room for your delicious cock. Could you imagine how'd she'd react if you tried this with her?" Ilsa said with a very mischievous grin.
Her hands moving up to her heavy teardrops the creamy flesh falling against her palms almost like warm, soothing water. Just the right mixture of firmness and sag to show off how natural they were. Sliding her delicate fingers between Destro's she guided his powerful palms underneath them pushing them upwards supporting their weight until they looked like a pair of round bolt-ons.
Then Ilsa closed her eyes taking a deep breath, which only caused those tits to swell in Destro's hands, as she put on a carefully neutral face on only to pop open her eyes wide nearly as wide as the "O"-shaped gap of surprise she made her pouty lips into.
"Ooh! Destro….what on….hmmmmph….earth has possessed you my darling?!" Ilsa said in an imitation of the Baroness's vaguely European accent.
Destro's steel face betraying nothing as he watched the blonde's performance. But judging from the diamond hard dick still firmly sandwiched between her stroking ass cheeks….
"You ruffian, Destro! I demand that you….oooh…..stop this at….hmmmmph…once!" Ilsa continued." I'm descended from Russian Czars, not some common strumpet for you to vent your vulgar, manly urges on my Darling. Why don't you find that blonde bimbo of yours, Darling. You know, the one with the big, natural tits instead of my overinflated, silicon beachballs."
The blond breaking character at that point as she found herself being pushed forward against the display once more. Her freed breasts falling back into their natural, sloping shape as they squished beneath her against the cold chill of the glass. Her lover's hands going to her shapely hips as that welcoming presence of his cock vanished from between her ass cheeks. Sounds of ripping heard as Ilsa's uniform pants, already slightly undersized for her curvy form, torn half open exposing her lack of panties and glorious round ass. The rest of the uniform shrinking down pooling around her thigh as the blonde felt the thick, metallic finger of her Hero seek out her dripping sex pressing in between her folds.
"As you wish, my Baroness!" Destro chuckled devilishly already reaching to undo his pants.
Ilsa's panted cries echoing off of the high walls of Destro's sanctum as she felt her lover enter her for what promised to be a most amusing and distracting evening.
Masanori Hotel, Kingdom of Macromastia-
Approaching the bar of the ballroom their benefactor had rented out Lara felt naked. Which had nothing to do with the fact the bosomy brunette was currently clad in only some cerulean blue panties, garters and glossy black high-heeled pumps. Lara was intimately comfortable in her skin and the wolfish looks she'd received from men only helped fuel her pride and vanity. Plus it kind of reminded her how Stark's last party had been like.
No what made Lara feel vulnerable, her torpedo tits bouncing in time with her practiced strut, was the fact there was no place to hide any of her precious guns on her body. Even without her normal 1911's she could depend on having a holdout Sig P365 or Glock 43 strapped along her inner thigh the grip rubbing right up there against the lower lip of her maidenhood but that was all exposed for all to see. If a fight broke out she'd have no choice but to evade and run rather than confront it head on.
Those were always the most frustration segments of a mission in her eyes not that she could do much about it but enjoy the attention and company. Her eyes drawn towards her comely's companion's tight fitting fiery red dress and her marvelous round breasts proudly jutting out of it. There were few women Lara would admit could keep up with her in the bust department but Anastasia was one of them. Feeling her eyes following the two flesh-colored basketballs as they squeezed inward clapping the tight, perky sides ever so slightly dimpling before momentum rebounded springing them apart and repeating the process all over. Giving some of the firmest tits Lara had ever seen an almost counter-clockwise half circle as they bounced upwards sunk and press inward again in time with the movement of the raven-haired woman's curvaceous hips.
The bar itself was an "L-shaped" mahogany banister with crushed velvet lined stools long enough for dozens of patrons through at the moment there were only three. A pair of raucous-fueled ruffian mercenaries sat on one far end loudly engaged in their own topic of conversation. Around on the other side meanwhile a woman with rich, auburn hair happily chatted with the bartender the woman leaning forward resting her arms against the counter. Rather surprisingly unlike most women Lara had seen rather than being naked the auburn-haired woman was covered head to neck in a banana yellow jumpsuit through it did little to disguise the figure she was working with.
Lara helped herself to a barstool the plush velvet crumpling underneath the twin, perfect half moons of her ass. Creamy flesh pressed upwards expanding like baking dough as her weight shifted drawing her long legs close under her as the thin, slender strand of blue vanished even further into the crevice between them. Pulling the blue material until it was almost sheer across her plump folds of her sex. Her lips spreading apart ever so slightly as it stretched across them.
A tiny strip of blue pleasurably sinking between those folds arching her back straight and puffing her considerable chest out with all the dignity and pose of an 11-generation countess. The sounds of the party all around her as an orchestra played a slow, heavy melody that sounded like it came straight from the thirties adding to the weird juxtaposition of time and cultures of the Masanori Hotel and the kingdom as a whole.
A woman in a sparkling red dress all but made love to her microphone up on the stage in front of the orchestra. A long purple clad hand cradling the stand her lavender fingers curling around it moving slowly up and down as the other caressed the silver and slightly phallic looking head holding it closer to her red lips. Her husky, honeyed voice filling the entire ballroom as did the almost bongo-like sound effect of her breasts as they collided together with the woman's paused raising a hand to blow a kiss to a male admirer. The edges of her glittering dress receding to the sides of her heaving bust in a cut-away letting the cartoonishly large boobs spill out from it for all to see. Which by Macromastia's standards meant she was conservatively dressed.
A lovely mane of fiery red hair fell down over the shoulders of her glittering dress like a molten mane or curtain while her silky bangs fell across hiding half of her exquisite face from view leaving one heavily lidded emerald colored eye peering out past her long, fluttering eye lashes.
"I must say, interesting crowd we got here." Lara said with a nod towards the two mercenaries on the far side of the bar." Half of them look like the sort to nick the silverwear when you aren't looking."
Of the two the older of the pair with a pinched face and hair the color of ashy soot was dressed somewhere between a tramp and someone who looked like he just got back from safari. Lots of heavy and drab brown and tan colored clothing. The other was dressed as an obnoxious and particularly color-blind tourist with lots of garish colors that almost hurt Lara's eyes.
"And the other half?" Anastasia asked as she offered a polite smile to the bartender, his eyes lost somewhere in her cleavage, as he poured a bottle of champagne for both of them.
The Tomb Raider shrugged the rippling of muscles in her shoulders mirrored as her torpedo tits rose slightly and then fell back down never losing their firm shape even as the points of her rocket-shaped knockers waggled.
"They look like the sort to steal it when you are, I'm afraid." The brunette-woman said with a dismissively laugh." Suppose it makes the game all the more interesting. Pity the two of us don't have any extra lives."
Blaming Zip for putting the association in her mind, their conversation still fresh in her memory. And she couldn't deny there was a certain appeal to the concept to succumb to a pitfall feeling the exhilaration of plummeting down through the inky abyss towards the spike laden floor. To feel that surge of adrenalin as she kissed the specter of Lady Death on the lips in greeting-fuck that pulled the legendary spirit into a full-on French kiss-in her final demise…only to start over again with all that experience gained.
An idea so appealing to the busty adventurer yet fleetingly familiar as if she'd experienced it before somewhere. A half-remembered dream perhaps? A strange, surreal other-reality where she succeeded not through skill or good fortune but the sacrifice of countless other Lara's. Faintly recalling the catacombs beneath castle and a single, lurid image of being surrounded by the desiccated remains of the unfortunate, past Lara's. Their bodies-her body-a potent combination of the alluring and the terrifying reflection of death itself. But no sooner did she attempt to pluck at that errant thread of memory than it unraveled away lost to her consciousness.
"Quite right, on all three accounts I fear." Anastasia agreed quite approving of Lara's appraisal." I hope that doesn't mean you are, how they say, getting cold feet?"
The Cobra operative not believing that for an instant, not if psychoanalysis report on her stolen from SHIELD files were worth the time and money put into it. Like a moth to a flame Lara was drawn to, as she rather famously put, play for sport rather than reward or fickle allegiance. To prove herself or maybe exalt herself against the forces of the ancient and modern world.
"Are you kidding? Dressed as I am, my feet are about the only thing not cold." Lara replied as she swung around on the bar stool her drink in hand much to the disappointment of the bartender.
Manicured thumb tracing itself against the edge of the glass as she settled back resting her elbows nonchalantly against the bar and thrusting out her chest even more as she looked over the gathering. A few of whom of whom watched in turn Lara's already high sitting torpedoes rise still higher pressed by the deliberate inward tuck of her arms squeezing them delightfully together and lengthening the ravine of cleavage.
The group numbered forty or so most of whom were the Diamond Shark mercenaries had hired for once they reached the island. As identified by the remarkably similarity to their features not so much in their specific shape or countenance since she saw rough and smooth, handsome and downright ugly but rather a certain hollowness in and around subdued eyes no fake smile or practiced expression could completely hide.
Those lucky enough to find a date danced with a local girl to the music while others stood off in small groups of twos and threes waiting their turn. All eager to experience that life and vitality of the young, comely and very nude women for themselves.
Sprinkled among these two groups was a handful of men in suits who by their serious demeanor and formal dress she judged were the lackeys of whatever cartels or factions their glorious host had bribed or paid to allow this vainglorious expedition. Taking scrutinizing care to hold their dance partners with a light but firm grasp as they twirled them around themselves in accord with the playing music.
"Not that it isn't amusing being ogled by the shallower end of the gene pool but where is our Lady Dimitrescu?" Lara asked scanning the women she saw for one who matched her mental image of the Romanian noble and finding none." Surely she wouldn't miss her own party or does she know something I don't?"
At Lara's question her stacked, raven-haired companion offered a rather insincere smile towards the luckless bartender before she too turned in her seat. Her breasts swaying ever so slightly side to side as she did so.
"She seeks, as always, to make a fashionable and dramatic entrance. Trust me, you can't miss her. She suffers from an…abnormality." Anastasia pointed out but was quick to add." Oh nothing disfiguring, I assure you. Far from it in fact, she is just…unique."
Truly being at a loss for how to prepare Lara for the Lady. Words, she felt, truly failed to give justice to Dimitrescu and what was that American turn of phrase? Seeing was believing? And Dimitrescu had so much to believe in.
The dark-haired woman smiling a viperish smile at that, picturing Lara's reaction, when she noticed a man making his way through the dance floor towards them. Rather than the flamboyant and mismatched clothing of the Diamond Sharks he wore a butter cream dyed uniform as stiffly starched as his overbearingly posturing bearing. His back arched ramrod straight and squared off at his shoulders. A mess of shiny medals and colorful ribbon adorning his breast from a melting pot of countries including a prominent black iron cross and golden star and circle which proclaimed him a people's hero to the now defunct German Democratic Republic.
His face was pale, pale white with sharp features tapering almost to a point with long hair which time and stress had turned into an ashy off color which was pulled back tightly by a black ribbon. A pair of nasty dueling scars crisscrossed his sunken cheeks while even more crawled from beneath the circular eyepatch covering his right eye. The remaining left a deep, dark grey somehow colorless and yet with sparkling vibrancy.
That eye seemed captivated with Lara even as the military man reached for Anastasia's hand. His expression mercurial and unknowable.
"Anastasia Decobray, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." The man said with a cordial smile that seemed especially mannequin like.
His voice pleasant but there was a sibilant roughness hidden beneath the velvet tones which grated on Lara. The busty Tomb Raider instantly taking a disliking to the stuffed shirt currently playing the part of a dutiful military man as he kissed the raven-haired woman's hand and then gave a very stiff, short bow.
"But forgive my lack of manners. I am Augustus Fuchs, First-Major General of Macromastia." He said with a quick rise back to his arch-backed pose adding a click of his heels to punctuate his title." It was I who saw to Dimitrescu's and her party's security while you remain upon the Kingdom's shores."
Augustus said with force gaiety and ease the German national didn't quite feel much preferring to play marshal drilling cadets on a parade formation then playing nursemaid to that gargantuan hussy or the nearly as perverse Anastasia. A life-time of war and hardship had taught him neither civilians nor women understood discipline and he had little time for either.
Fighting to keep from rolling his eye as the raven-haired woman, seemingly charmed by his manners, deliberately leaned forward all but shoving her giant tits underneath his nose. From behind the bar, repeatedly cleaning an already spotless glass, the callow youth that was bartender shot the First-Major General an accusing, jealous look that almost made the older man laugh. Instead he swiveled his cold, gray eye to encompass Lara and put a little more effort into making his knife of a smile look disarming.
"And who is this charming creature?" Augustus inquired managing the difficult feat of meeting Lara's eyes.
Which added an unsettling affect to the primp and proper officer one she didn't like as she pushed his offered hand away.
"Not impressed. Pampered, pet toy soldiers make a lot of noise but, where it counts, I've always found them lacking in caliber." Lara said cattily.
Feeling a flush of warmth between her thighs as she thought back to another man rougher but, she'd bet, certainly much fiercer in bed than the fop before her. Just the memory of riding him with nothing but the leather bandoliers rubbing against her creamy skin sent pleasurable feeling shooting up through her body.
For his part Augustus looked shocked, the placid façade of his face cracking as she saw the muscles in his arm tense to slap her confirming for her everything of her initial impression. Of course if he actually dare try well she was prepared to force feed him her champagne glass. She could see him thinking about it, the intent written in the souring curl of his face before he thought better of it much to her disappointment.
"I beg your pardon. I-" He stammered going off script before being interrupted by a perky, energetic voice.
"Wow! Talk about luck! It's really you, isn't it? Gosh I hope you hadn't noticed me staring but I wasn't sure at first. I was thinking maybe you were Angelina Jolie for a second but, well, she doesn't quite have a pair quite like yours. Nobody does." Lara heard a sweet voice say right beside her ear.
The brunette suddenly becoming aware of something large, round in the peripheral of her vision as she turned only to came face to boob with the yellow jumpsuit lady. The front of her banana colored getup unzipped down towards her navel letting her extremely perky, round melons seep out. Edges of the sun-colored, slick fabric hugging the outer edges.
"April O'Neil, reporter for channel six news!" The muffled words of the woman rang in Lara's ear as she struggled for a moment to escape her marshmallow hell." And boy am I surprised to run into you, Lara, in this of all places. Especially since you still owe me a new van after that thing in New York."
"Lara? Lara Croft?" Augustus repeated as April nodded her brown bob bouncing up and down.
Lara, squirming backwards to get her face clear of cleavage, unequivocally denied the charge of course.
"I think the loss of a van is a small price for saving the world from Montezuma's Lament." She said brushing off the woman's claim." Besides as I recall it was Zip who borrowed your van so kindly direct any bills towards him. Maybe it'll give him incentives to stop playing those video games of his."
As she spoke the music suddenly stopped and the gathered crowd were directed to look towards the door as the lights dimmed and a spotlight was turned on highlighting the entrance as it was slowly drawn open.
"Brother…can she be anymore of a theatrical ham?" Anastasia grumbled under her breath as Lady Dimitrescu appeared in the spotlight.
Or at least her breasts and lower body did. Lara, a catty bitch at the best of times, suddenly sitting up taking notice peering over Augustus's shoulder at the colossal pair of breasts that filled the upper portions of the open doorway. Pure, snow-white edges of each impossible firm, round boulders wedged against the frame of the door as they enveloped forward emerging the better part of a foot into the room. A pair of sculpted, powerful thighs framed beneath them. The silhouette of a springy, equally large and imposing pair of ass cheeks rising behind them as delicate, feminine fingers appeared from above the door as Dimitrescu bent over to squeeze through a doorway made for lesser, peasant-folk.
Hers was a glamorous, starlet's face with skin like the purest porcelain. Eyes shone with a captivating, yellow light as black hair with a slight curl to it framed her beautiful face. A large, wide-brim sun hat slanted adding a little mystery as it fell shading have of her face as she rose back to her full nine foot height once inside the room.
Everyone stared in awe, in intimidation, of the colossal woman. And she was clearly a woman with ample femininity. Everyone that is except Augustus Fuchs. Catching motion and a prickling of her famous sixth sense, Lara tore her eyes away from the walking pair of Himalayan snow boulders to the gaunt man to see him draw a Luger pistol from some fold in his neatly cut uniform.
"I'm sorry, Lara." He said in a less than convincing tone." You have to die so that I may live."
The implanted nails dug into either side of his temples giving a small but painful taste of failure feeling like two white-hot skewers were being twisted into his skull meeting at the center of his brain. What his master lacked in subtly they more than made up for in vindictive spite. Having no idea what Lara had done to wrong them or their plans and frankly the First-General didn't care. Just another dead, wide-eyed poppet that could be added to the pile that haunted the man's bloody dreams.
Only things are never as simple as that with Lara.
"Oh Bloody hell, you could at least buy me a drink first before trying to killing him." Lara, grabbing at the counter of the bar behind her, grunted in annoyance lifting herself up and over it.
Pointed heel of her foot bending coyly against her leg then exploding outward into the man's midsection feeling the pointed heel pierce and sink into his gamy flesh knocking the man backwards and hopefully throwing his aim off while she tried to ignore the sensation of her jutting breasts slapping upwards against her face as she arched and sailed over the bar.
It was only a question of who had reacted faster as the sound of the gun barked splitting the ballroom.