12 Legs Beneath the Sheets Ch. 01

This story requires an explanation. It is, after all, the single most ridiculous thing I've ever put to page. A few months ago, during a drunken board-game night, a friend of mine began to discuss her years spent living in Australia, and in particular the abundance of spiders. She told us of all the places they'd show up unexpectedly: mailboxes, lamp shades, couch cushions, and, most terrifying, toilet seats. Naturally, the conversation progressed to the potential of said spider hopping up and into an unsuspecting victim's...well, orifice. Now we were on roll. What if this orifice-dwelling spider made a home there; what if, like Remy the rat, the spider could control its victim by their pubes? After all, what else are they there for? But why, we asked ourselves between sips of vodka and Coke, why would a spider want to control someone in this manner? And then an "Aha!" moment! What if, more than anything, this spider wanted to eat cum.

I do intend to publish the full novel in June of 2023. Feedback very much welcome. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of 12 Legs Beneath The Sheets.

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Samuel yawned wide and stretched each of his eight legs. His eyes began to adjust to the dark of the hovel he'd wandered into the night previous before promptly falling into a slumber. Or at least, he believed it a hovel. In the dim light of night, a warm hole is a warm hole. And a warm hole had never lead him wrong before. Besides, his sense of touch was a far greater asset than his eyes. Of which, each was worse than the last, save the left middle one, which was sharp as ever.

That eye had just begun to adjust to his new home when a mountainous moan rocked the hovel. Samuel flattened himself against the wall with a soft splat. He was surprised to find his legs had slipped into a viscous liquid, and pulling one away brought with it strands of the wetness, stretching until they finally broke. That infernal wetness, why on earth would anyone want to inhabit such a place, Samuel thought. But, even as he was cursing his situation, his leg hair prickled, coming alive as his sensory hairs took in the growing sweet smell. Suddenly captivated, Samuel dipped one of his legs back into to the growing pool of the slimy substance beneath his legs and brought it to his mouth.

What most people may not know about being a spider is that one of the best parts is consuming your own web. It is absolutely euphoric, an all-encompassing feeling, like being submerged in perfectly warm water. Samuel's abdomen shivered in ecstasy at the memory, and again as the substance reached his stomach. Perhaps the beginnings of worry forming within him weren't justified after all.

As if to explicitly to refute his changing mind, the moan came again. Louder this time. Samuel's leg hair prickled, and he gripped tighter at the ground beneath his feet. But as soon as he felt he'd achieved a sufficient hold, the entire hovel began to move. The ground lifted and rotated, sending Samuel crashing into what had a moment ago been the ceiling. In a panic, he shot a strand of web at the wall, but it fell limp, unable to adhere to the moist surface. The ceiling - now ground - moved again, swaying back and forth. Samuel flattened himself, trying not to get lost in the saccharine smell he'd pressed his face into. When the hovel has seemed to settle, Samuel's self-control faltered and he took a little more of the wetness into his mouth. Incredible.

Smack! The sound was far closer than any before. It - whatever it was - was getting closer, and was now directly outside the entrance. There was nowhere to run. Samuel prepared himself for a fight. He stood to his full height, the hair on his legs standing at attention. He barred his fangs at the entrance, and lifted his two front legs. Ready.

Smack! Smack! Smack! The moan came again. Samuel, being a spider, had known hardship. After all, what spider hadn't? Humans and their instruments of destruction were a constant, never abating threat. And unless Samuel resigned himself to the forest like so many of his brethren, he knew that the battle for survival would never end. He was okay with that, had always been okay with that. The fact is, Samuel liked the human world, liked watching their interactions. Admittedly from afar. And he liked that his world with them was an ever-changing adventure. Each new day brought new challenges, and new types of food. And now, with each smack at his front door, he feared it was all coming to an end.

Two fingers slammed their way into the hovel! How had any human known that he was there!? Samuel backed up as far as he could go. Fighting was a last resort. He knew he didn't have any real chance against the human.

The fingers weaseled their way inside again, this time curling and massaging the floor in front of him. Stupid humans, Samuel thought, that rubbing motion wouldn't hurt him even if he had been caught beneath it. The hovel began to rock violently underneath the fingers. And just when Samuel thought he might be thrown free by the motion, the fingers stopped their assault, and retreated through the front door. A brief beam of light lit up Samuel's surroundings. They were a dull, glistening pink. This was no hovel, Samuel realized as the terror began to build in him again. What had he wandered into?

Light poured in as the assault began again, and was quickly blocked out by a great purplish weapon, no doubt one fashioned by humans specially for his destruction. It sped inside, nearly catching him! Samuel smushed himself against the far wall. The weapon retreated, then came again, closer, and with more force. It seemed that no matter how hard the weapon tried, it could not reach him. Was he the luckiest spider in the world? Would he survive this peril.

The weapon sped up its assault, and perhaps ironically, as it did, it stopped further and further away from Samuel with each entry. Until, in a seemingly desperate final attempt, the weapon slammed inside the deepest it had ever been, the tip just making slight contact with Samuel's largest leg. He stared the weapon in its single, unblinking eye and barred his fangs. The weapon shuddered and belched forth from its single eye a spit of opaque fluid that covered Samuel from fang to abdomen.

Shocked, Samuel went stiff as he waited for his end. Surely, this poison that had been shot all over him would begin to burn, or take his breath away. But as the seconds past without consequence, he realized he was in the clear. He'd waited out the humans and emerged victorious. A truly pitiful attempt.

As he was soaking in his victory, a stream of goo dripped from his forehead into his mouth. Samuel melted, all his muscles going slack at once in response the most the glorious thing he'd ever consumed. He sank into the puddle of goo, opening his mouth and shoveling in as much as he could. All his legs worked in a flurry to clean every morsel from his body. And when there was no more, Samuel himself moaned in pleasure. He must have more. He needed more.

And so he did the one thing he thing he'd never wanted to do: he threw himself at the slowly shrinking human weapon and dug his fangs into the eye. But it only flew backwards, taking Samuel with it. He let go just in time to keep from being pulled outside the hovel.

"Mother fucker!" a voice outside the hovel yelped! "What the fuck!"

Samuel, not wanting to lose track of the weapon, pushed aside the velvety folds of the hovel's entrance and peaked outside. The human room stretched out before his one good eye. It locked onto the bald weapon, dangling as it was between the legs of an extraordinarily pink, and rapidly retreating human.

"What is wrong with you!?" came another lighter voice behind Samuel.

"Something bit my dick!," yelled the human! "Something -" He gestured, making a hooking motion with his finger. "In...you!" He pointed then straight at Samuel, his eyes growing wide. "There's a fucking - there's a spider!"

Samuel waved sorrowfully at the weapon as it was rapidly tucked into a pair of jeans.

"Matthew, what the fuck is wrong with you," came the soft voice again.

"Vanessa, I -- whatever, no, nope, nope." And with that, the human -- whose name appeared to be Matthew -- disappeared through the bedroom door. "Don't call me!" Came his final shout.

"Jesus Christ..." Vanessa muttered, and flopped back onto the bed.

As Samuel lamented the loss of the weapon, a thought struck him: ...baseball. More specifically the L.A. Dodgers. And a second thought: I should trim my pubes.

Samuel, intrigued by the thoughts retreated again into the hovel. A torrent of thoughts flitted over his mind's eye -- as sharp as his face's one good eye -- and he knew suddenly that 150g of protein a day was ideal; he knew that 2020 wasn't all that bad because the Dodgers won the world series; he knew that Sharon at reception would never go out with him because he was too pretty, as if that was some kind of crime, and all he wanted to do was go bowling with her. And then a stream of images overtook him: waterfalls, bike trails, Jill's diner, and Vanessa. Vanessa... Big green-grey eyes, curly red hair cut a little too short that bobbed when she walked, dark freckles clustered around her slightly crooked nose, a smile that showed too much teeth.

Samuel dropped to the floor. Reality came back slowly from the dark, gently nudging him back to life. What had just happened? Those feelings, those places, Vanessa... He was inside Vanessa. And she was incredible. Something about the humans cum -- that's right, that's what that was -- had...done something to him. He couldn't be sure what. But he knew he needed to do it again, and to do that, he was going to have to get Vanessa laid.