spiderbite

My wife is an arachnophobe.

It’s a good thing she was asleep when you came through the wall.

Your eyes were visible first. They seem purple against the dark, sometimes. A shadow grew and grew and then…

… Each limb piled into my room like an opening fist, round as my thigh, long and articulated. Having taken your foothold in my bedroom your human form emerged, slender and beautiful, followed by an enormous, bulbous abdomen.

You smirked at me as you approached. I read the Invitation every time I run the ritual, but by now you do things that the text does not cover. The gentleness in your words is for newcomers, those who—hah—are not already caught in your web. I know you can be gentle but last night you were there to feed. Last night I thought you might butcher me. I was ready for pain. Once again, you surprised me.

I heard your many legs tap into place arrayed all around my bed. It makes my heart beat faster to remember: you were so imposing. Immense. And in the centre of the spider body, yourself, pale and seemingly gentle. You touched my chest and whispered some of the words you have written down.

Your fangs tore into my shoulder and made me spasm with the pain of it. Venom you injected felt hot and immediately my chest hurt Raven. Like, I paused to check my pulse before continuing. I knew you were paralysing me but worried maybe you were simply going to kill me and carry me off. Oh well, you know I am yours.

And then you kissed me, as in the text. When you kiss me, I feel a lot of things. Gratitude comes to the fore sometimes. Here, as the venom stole over me, it felt like your kiss was air to a drowning man.

When you withdraw I was unable to utter a coherent word. My jaw was frozen. You looked down with pity, and then never spoke, but gave me a tour.

Your human form brushed past me quickly. There was much more of the spider. Cool to the touch, plated and covered in fine, sensitive hairs, it felt more like machine than your body. When you crushed me under it I couldn’t see you—was a world away from you. And I could hear what was happening inside. A strange heart beat distantly, slow and immense. Liquid burbled and gurgled through hidden channels. A familiar groan from deep, deep within told me that this was where your stomach was.

Right at the very tip of the abdomen (you’d had to crawl up the ceiling in order to show yourself off), the plates gave way to a musky channel. Something black glistened within, like wet leather. Spinarets? … Waste passage? I don’t know. It flicked me negligently as it passed by.

I already couldn’t move. You turned my head to the side. Oh. You were interested in a bigger meal than just one person.

It shouldn’t be possible for so large a being to squat on the ceiling like that. I watched you delicately turn, dancing your feet here and there, until your body tented over my sleeping wife. Did you know she was arachnophobic?

You wanted her awake this time. You stroked her chubby cheek until her eyes flickered open and she saw your silhouette. Then two things happened together, very close together.

First, you stifled her scream when your twin daggers plunged into her throat. She gurgled while you drank, and I heard every throatful, messy and frenzied. Second, with unexpected dexterity your abdomen pivoted under you and smoothly enveloped my wife’s fat calves in that passage you had showed me.

The speed with which you ate her… Your abdomen rocked back and forth, losing four inches soaked in clear liquid then cramming another foot of her inside. Whatever hole you were consuming her with seemed able to stretch wide enough to squash her flabby belly through, which was accepted with a sort of sucking plunger sound. Honestly the whole thing was a bit over the top. As you crammed her up your shitter you shuddered and made such noises as would have made me blush were you not eating my wife.

You threw your head back and belched, red spots landing about your face. She managed to scream for half a second before your plated orifice sucked in her head.

I watched you shudder with what looked like pleasure as your body put her where it wanted her. She is big, about a third the volume of your abdomen. I don’t know where you put her. Maybe things just got tighter inside you. The abdomen reorientated itself then pulsed, quickly at first as she squeezed wherever it was you were putting her, then slowly as you worked on her body.

I heard her screaming, muffled and gurgling. I felt a pang of guilt. But I wanted you to have her.

I want you to have everyone.

You licked your lips of her blood and looked at me. And then you ate me.

Where you’d been animalistic and rough with her, with me you returned to the script. You gently suckled at the wound you had made, and I realised with vague numbness that my flesh had begun to digest already. It came away into your mouth like caramel and was swallowed. If you’d left me wrapped up there you could have drunk me down entirely.

You didn’t plunge your tendril into my heart. Perhaps it would have ruptured, no matter how gentle you were.

And then, so careful, so slow. You took my legs into your mouth without resistance. From the way your eyes closed it looked like you enjoyed the feel of me squeezing through your slender body. I didn’t stop in your middle.

As you walked more of me between your lips I felt my feet slip across the boundary between pale skin and dark chitin. I felt from the inside the pulsing pressure as you did whatever you were doing to my wife.

Spiders have something called a “sucking stomach”, for extracting fluids from their externally-digested prey. I wasn’t externally-digested but I guess that’s where you put me when you swallowed me entire. I curled up somewhere inside your abdomen, crushed by the rippling, stinking flesh of your innards. I felt fear of the dark in my real body. It felt like drowning.

I could feel her. Your other meal. We were separated by a foor or so of your flesh, contained within different chambers. I couldn’t move to let her know I was there. I merely curled up as your gut curled me up and began to break down, brutal enzymes without joining the fight of the enzymes in my bloodstream against the integrity of my body.

I got so thin as muscle broke down and my flesh began to ooze out into your sucking stomach, to be pumped deeper. Maybe turned to shit to join my wife wherever she was. She was still struggling, though too weak to scream. I remember thinking, as I read your words and as my body began to fail: good. Let everyone feel this. Let everyone die for you so you can grow strong and fat and powerful. What is death-agony and dissolution against that?

You crushed my brittling bones and I died, though stayed with you, feeding you attention and what energy I could. It felt like prayer, slicking through your inner tubes.

At some point I passed out and the meal was done.