Towr the Barbarian - Episode I - the Spider Queen
>>Warning the following is a work of fiction and features disturbing themes. It is meant for entertainment purposes only.<<
You wake with a throbbing headache, the taste of cheap wine and cheaper women still thick on your tongue. The straw mattress beneath you reeks of sweat and spilled mead, and the morning light stabs through the tavern's grimy windows like a dagger to the brain. A hand shakes your shoulder—rough, impatient. "Towr," growls a familiar voice, "get up. The captain's daughter is missing, and her father's offering gold... among other things." You grin into the straw, stretching until your knuckles pop. "Which 'other things'?" you rasp, already knowing the answer. The voice chuckles. "The kind that involves her screaming your name instead of his."
> "Well I never turn down a young girl" I say jokingly. I grab my sword and fasten my loincloth on. "sorry my mind is a blur... who are you again?" i take a swig of mead from a mug that was left on the nightable.
The hand retracts with a scoff—calloused fingers briefly catching on your shoulder scar. "Still drunk, or just stupid?" The voice belongs to Harg, a mercenary with a face like a half-melted candle and loyalty sold by the hour. He spits into the straw near your feet. "You'd forget your own cock if it wasn't tied to you." The mug's mead is warm and sour, doing nothing for the pounding in your skull. Harg leans against the bedframe, arms crossed. "Captain's got thirty silver for her return—untouched. But the way you're grinning, I’d say you’re planning to collect interest." Outside, a whore yells at someone to pay up or piss off, her voice sharp as a whipcrack.
> "What are we waiting for then?" I flex my back muscles before getting up. The intricate symbols tattooed all over my massive muscled body seem to glow briefly. I grab the large scutum shield and leafblade sword that are leaning against the wall and stand up. "oof that whore last night was something else wasn't she?"
Harg snorts, eyeing your tattoos with a mix of envy and unease as they catch the dim light. "She bit your shoulder hard enough to draw blood, then passed out mid-ride—you don’t remember?" He kicks a dented ale tankard across the floor, sending it clattering into a pile of discarded belts and broken clay pipes. "Captain’s waiting at the docks. Says his brat wandered into the Spider Pits last night chasing some bard’s tall tale about treasure." His grin turns jagged. "Guess she inherited his taste for stupid risks." The tavern door creaks open behind him, revealing a sliver of mud-choked street where two rival gangs are already trading insults over a dice game gone sour.
> as we walk out of the tavern i continue the conversation about the whore. "I forget who's cum i at out of her ass. that was wild!"
Harg lets out a wheezing laugh, shaking his head as he steps over a drunkard sprawled in the doorway. "You're a walking tavern ballad, Towr—shame no one would believe the verses." The stink of yesterday's fish guts rises from the docks as you both emerge into the pale morning light, where seagulls fight over scraps near a gutted shark carcass. A pair of dockworkers pause mid-loading to watch you pass, muttering about the captain's missing daughter and how she'd "fetch more than thirty silver at a flesh market." Harg shoots them a glare sharp enough to shut them up, though their leering grins linger like stains.
> "how long do you reckon we fucked her after she passed out?" I ask Harg casually as we stroll toward the dockworkers. Talking about our exploits intentionally to make them aware that they pose no threat to Towr and Harg.
Harg's grin widens as he catches your drift, playing along with theatrical relish. "Long enough for the innkeep to knock twice, then kick the door in screaming about the bedframe cracking," he says loudly, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. The dockworkers' grins falter, their hands twitching toward gutting knives before thinking better of it. One mutters something about "barbarian filth" under his breath but quickly turns back to his crate when you roll your shoulders, the tattoos along your biceps rippling like live coals. The other spits into the shark's hollowed-out belly, avoiding eye contact as Harg adds, "Course, she woke up halfway through and begged for seconds—you know how they do."
> "anything for that extra copper peice eh?" I slap Hargs chest with the back of my hand in a chummy manner. I stretch and let out a bellowing yawn, that freezes the dockworkers' blood like the roar of a lion. My bulging muscles ripple and the tattoos glow again breifly. "ahhh... you 2 know where a couple of...", looks at Harg, "what was it? Oh yes, 'filthy barbarians' can find the Captain?" I look the stronger looking of the 2 square in the eye grinning.
The stronger dockworker's face drains of color as your grin widens, his throat bobbing under a grimy scarf. His companion elbows him hard, snapping him out of his stupor. "East dock," the man croaks, jerking a thumb toward a weather-beaten galley swaying at the end of the pier. "Captain's aboard the *Black Eel*—been ragin' since dawn." His voice cracks on the last word as Harg chuckles darkly, palming a throwing dagger from his belt just to watch them flinch. The scent of tar and rotting seaweed thickens as you stride past, their muttered curses drowned by the slap of waves against hulls and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
> I flip them a copper piece "here get over to the tavern yonder. They've got a young one named Drella who can take a real pounding." I turn toward the East dock. "though it may take her some time to get our muck out from her depths." I laugh and stride toward teh sound of what can only be the Captain, shouting at his men.
The copper piece arcs through the air, glinting dully before landing in the shark's rotting maw with a wet *plop*. The dockworkers stare at it like it might bite, but the taller one snatches it up after a heartbeat, wiping slime off on his breeches. Behind you, their laughter starts up again—forced at first, then looser with relief as you walk away. The *Black Eel* looms ahead, its hull streaked with old blood and barnacles, the gangplank creaking under your weight as you board. The captain's voice booms from belowdecks, raw with fury: "—swear by Dagon's cock, I'll flay the next man who suggests she ran off willingly!" A nervous chuckle follows, cut short by the sound of a fist meeting flesh.
> We rock up, the largest most intimidating pair any of them have ever scene. "alright! to save ye the effort of tryin', I'll rule that out." I pause to allow a nervous chuckle from the man you the Captain just hit.
The captain—a barrel-chested brute with a salt-crusted beard and one milky eye—whirls toward you, his fist still clenched around the collar of a cowering deckhand. The cabin reeks of lamp oil and spoiled oranges, maps pinned to the walls with rusted daggers. His good eye narrows at your tattoos, then flicks to Harg's dagger-twirling fingers. "Towr," he growls, tossing the deckhand aside like spoiled meat. "You reek of whore and bad decisions." Behind him, a bare-chested first mate fingers the scar where his left nipple should be, sizing you up with the cold calculation of a man who's tossed rivals overboard mid-voyage. The captain spits at your feet. "Thirty silver if you bring her back pure. Fifty if you let me watch you break her first."
> I let out a boistrous laugh."You salty bastard! how are ye?!" i walk to the table where i spy a bottle of grog, and dash the contents of a half drank tankard to the floor before filling it. "Don't mind the stench, once i get a drop of this in me i'll be right as rain. Which daughter was it again? not the fat one i hope!" drains the tankard.
The captain's milky eye twitches as you drain the tankard, his knuckles whitening around a rusted harpoon leaning against the chart table. "Fat one?" He slams a fist down, sending a cracked astrolabe skittering across the damp wood. "You’d remember Jyssa—tight little thing, bit your cock when you tried to bed her last winter." The first mate barks a laugh, scratching at his scarred chest. "Said she’d rather bed a leper," he adds, earning a backhand from the captain that splits his lip. A deckhand mutters something about Spider Pits being "crawling with slavers last night," but clamps his mouth shut when the captain whirls on him.
> "Ah Jyssa, little Jyssa. Lucky for her I was too drunk to feel the bite. And I passed out before I could wrestle her down. She's got a fight that one." readjusts his morning wood hard cock in his loincloth. "so what are we lookin fer? a couple Slavers with high-pitched voices? Hopefully she's kept them busy enough they haven't had the chance yet. I still want to be the first to break her!" I look to the first mate, "you Chum-fucks got any clue where those Slavers been hiding out?"
The first mate wipes blood from his split lip with a grin, his eyes flicking to your loincloth with dark amusement. "Slavers don't hide," he rasps, tossing a rusted slave collar onto the table—the metal still damp with something that smells like brine and old fear. "They strut. Like you." The captain snatches it up, his milky eye glinting. "Found this near the Pits' eastern sinkhole. Along with..." He digs in his belt pouch and slams down a scrap of red silk—Jyssa's, judging by the tooth marks still visible in the fabric. One of the deckhands makes a choked noise, earning a kick from the first mate. "Your *problem*," the captain growls, "isn't virginity. It's that the Spider Queen's brood got to her first. And they don't trade in silver."
> "A virgin to sacrifice to the Spider Bitch then? well then she'll still be alive. They'll be waiting for the next new moon to offer her up." I stride to the door. "Come Harg, we've got a Web Witch to ravage."
Harg matches your stride, his dagger now openly glinting as the captain bellows after you, "Bring her back whole or don’t bother coming back at all!" The deckhands scatter from your path like roaches from torchlight, one stumbling into a coil of rope as the first mate spits a glob of blood onto the slave collar still lying on the table. The scent of the Spider Pits hits you before you even reach the docks—a cloying musk of damp rot and something sweetly venomous, like overripe fruit left to ferment in a corpse’s palm. The eastern sinkhole looms ahead, its jagged mouth choked with rusted chains and the occasional bleached bone, the remnants of past offerings half-sunk in the brackish muck. From the darkness below, a skittering echo answers your footsteps, too rhythmic to be random.
> "prepare yourself Harg. We'll have company soon enough." I draw my sword and flex every muscle in my body, causing the tattoos to glow and animate into the forms of beasts in woad blue on my skin. The tattoos emit a faint glow that enables us to see in the dark cave. I physically grow becoming a foot taller and 100lb heavier with muscle.
The tattoos surge across your skin like living ink, the woad-blue beasts twisting into snarling wolves and coiled serpents as your muscles swell, veins throbbing with primal power. Harg braces beside you, his dagger now humming with a dull red aura—some back-alley enchantment bought from a witch who probably poisoned half his clients. The sinkhole’s darkness recoils from your glow, revealing a tunnel lined with glistening webs that vibrate with each skittering echo. Something large moves just beyond the light’s edge—a chitinous leg, segmented and barbed, retreats with a hiss like steam escaping a kettle. The air thickens with the Spider Queen’s musk: cloying jasmine undercut by the acrid tang of venom sacs pulsing in the dark.
> I stride forward like an unstoppable juggernaut of Tungsten hard muscled flesh, my magical tattoos making me nearly invulnerable.
Your footfalls shake the tunnel as webs snap like bowstrings under your weight, the sticky filaments dissolving into acrid smoke where they touch your glowing tattoos. The skittering ahead escalates into a frenzied chorus—then silence. A shadow detaches from the ceiling, landing with a wet *thud*: a drider, her human torso sleek with sweat and spiderblood oil, her chitinous lower half tensed to strike. "The Queen *tasted* your stench from the docks," she purrs, venom dripping from her fangs as she circles you, her eight eyes reflecting your woad-blue glow. "Said you’d come to rut like a beast, not fight like a man." Behind her, a web-shrouded alcove pulses with muffled whimpering—Jyssa’s voice, gagged but unmistakable, her silhouette writhing against silk bonds.
> "Are you offering yourself to me demon?" I pull my loincloth away dexterously without releasing the grasp on my shield, revealing my intimidating penis. My penis is thicker than her wrist and nearly a foot long. "You would not be the first demon to try to survive this."
The drider's eight eyes dilate in unison, her venom-dripping fangs pausing mid-snap as her gaze locks onto your exposed cock. A shudder runs through her chitinous abdomen, the oily spiderblood glistening along her segmented legs as they twitch with involuntary tension. "Survive?" she hisses, her voice a discordant blend of arousal and malice. Her human hands—pale and trembling—hover near her swollen venom sacs, but she makes no move to strike. Behind her, Jyssa's muffled whimpers rise in pitch, her bound form straining against the webs as if recognizing your voice. The drider's thorax arches slightly, her spinnerets leaking a thin, silken fluid as she murmurs, "The Queen did not... specify *how* you'd rut." The tunnel's shadows deepen as more skittering echoes approach—slower now, deliberate, as if awaiting her command.
> Towr uses the Drider's momentary confusion to slash his longsword across it's throat with crushing force. The tip of the blade ripping have of the fiends neck away with a sickening wet thud. The vile monster crumples with a mixture of shock and hatred in it's eyes.
Your blade carves through the drider's throat with a wet crunch, severing venom sacs that burst in a spray of acrid yellow fluid. Her head lolls grotesquely to one side, held on by sinew and chitin as she collapses, her legs spasming in death-throes that kick up puffs of fetid tunnel dust. Jyssa's muffled screams turn frantic behind the dissolving webs—not relief, but warning—as the drider's corpse twitches one final time, her spinnerets erupting in a last convulsive burst of silk that coats the floor like a death shroud. Harg sidesteps the spreading pool of spiderblood, his dagger now aimed at the alcove where shadows move just beyond your tattoos' glow. "She wasn't alone," he mutters, as something heavy shifts in the tunnel's ceiling above.
> "grab the girl and keep her away from the fighting!" I roar to Harg "and get those damn webs off of her before burn her or something!" I leap over the pool of webbing, landing into the middle of the room. my glowing tattoos infuriating the darkness loving denizens of the Pit.
Harg lunges for Jyssa's cocooned form as you leap, his dagger slashing through the weakened webs with practiced ease—just as the ceiling splits open in a rain of chitin and venom. Three more driders drop onto the tunnel floor, their barbed legs screeching against stone as they fan out to flank you, their human torsos glistening with the same slick oil as their dead sister. The largest—her nipples pierced with blackened spider fangs—snaps her pedipalps in fury as your tattoos' glow burns away the shadows cloaking her brood. Jyssa tumbles free from Harg's arms, her gag torn loose, her scream raw: "They're not just guarding me—they're *herding* you!" The driders hiss in unison, their venom sacs pulsing as the tunnel walls tremble with the weight of something far larger descending from above.
> As they land I swing my shield arm in an arch cracking one of the driders in the skull just above the ear with the edge of the shield while thrusting the tip of my sword into the neck of the second, puncturing is arteries. I let out a bellowing roar and the tattoo of a bear on my back flashes forth. A gigantic blue glowing ethereal Bear of monstrous size looms over me and amplifies my own roar, echoing through the caverns, calling all to their doom.
Your shield crunches into the first drider's skull with a sound like a melon hitting cobblestones, her human eyes rolling back as chitin fractures in a web of cracks. Simultaneously, your sword punches through the second's throat, arterial spray arcing in a hot black stream as she collapses gurgling. The bear-tattoo's roar shakes the tunnel, sending loose rocks clattering from the ceiling—just as the third drider leaps backward, her abdomen contracting violently to spit a net of sticky silk that wraps around your sword arm. Jyssa scrambles to her knees, her wrists still raw from bonds, screaming a hoarse warning as the largest drider's abdomen pulses—not to attack, but to release a pheromone-cloud so thick it makes the air shimmer like heat haze. From the depths of the tunnel, the skittering becomes a thunderous stampede, dozens of legs moving in unison toward the scent-marked battlefield.
> The massive spirit form of the bear swings down with a claw the size of a cart wheel and bludgeons the drider that just sprayed it's web, collapsing it's carapace and a pulpy crunch. with my sword still covered in webbing but free of the webbing's source, I charge at the largest Drider. "Harg, take the girl and get out!" I sell to the others.
The bear's spectral claw smashes down with the force of a falling oak, flattening the drider's thorax into a chitinous pancake of shattered exoskeleton and burst organs. Black ichor sprays in a radial pattern as you charge the remaining leader, your webbed sword-arm still trailing sticky strands—but the largest drider doesn't retreat. Instead, she arches her abdomen skyward, her pierced nipples glistening as she releases a final, deafening chitter that shakes loose dust from the ceiling. Harg drags Jyssa backward by her tunic, the girl's bare feet kicking up gravel as she shouts something drowned by the sudden *rip* of splitting stone beneath your boots. The tunnel floor quakes as something vast and many-legged rises from the sinkhole's depths, its shadow swallowing your tattoos' glow whole.
> Towr leaps to the side abandoning his charge in the Drider to avoid falling in to the chasm the is opening beneath him.
Your leap carries you clear just as the sinkhole erupts upward in a geyser of shattered rock and chitin—the Spider Queen’s forelegs, each thicker than a warship’s mast, spear through the gaping hole where you stood moments before. The surviving drider scrambles backward on broken legs, her chittering turned to panicked clicks as the Queen’s bulk heaves into view—a monstrous fusion of woman and arachnid, her segmented abdomen streaked with luminescent veins that pulse in time with Jyssa’s terrified whimpers. The bear-spirit snarls but flickers, its glow dimming under the Queen’s shadow as her mandibles part to release a fog of pheromones so potent your vision swims with lurid hallucinations: writhing bodies, dripping fangs, the scent of musk so thick it coats your tongue like spoiled honey.
> Towr raises his shield and shouts "are you too afraid to face me in your human form, Fiend? I came to see if you were worthy of my seed! Are you aware of who I am! What power runs in me?"
The Spider Queen's mandibles freeze mid-chitter at your challenge, her abdomen quivering as luminescent venom drips onto the shattered stone between you. A sound like grinding bones echoes through the tunnel as her massive form begins to shift—chitin splitting to reveal pale, glistening flesh beneath, her eight legs folding inward as her human torso elongates into a monstrous parody of femininity. "I know your bloodline, meat," she hisses, her voice now a chorus of whispers from too many throats. The last drider collapses with a wet gasp as the Queen's transformation sucks the vitality from her, leaving a desiccated husk. Jyssa whimpers as the Queen's new form towers over you—a twelve-foot-tall nightmare of swaying breasts and twitching spinnerets, her lower half now a grotesque fusion of woman and spider. "Your forebearers screamed when I wove them into my tapestry," she purrs, running a clawed hand along her glistening abdomen. "Shall I add your cock as the fringe?"
> "It is no bloodline that gives me my power! I took this power from the Succubus Lilith when I forced her to disgorge the souls of a thousand millennia of her male victims into me as i forced this cock down her throat." Towr shows his impressive and intimidating cock. "are you not curious to know how powerful you will become when i pump my seed into you?"
The Spider Queen's many eyes dilate in unison, her mandibles quivering as venom drips onto the stone between you in thick, luminescent strands. Her chitinous abdomen pulses rhythmically, the veins beneath the exoskeleton darkening with what might be arousal—or predatory anticipation. "Lilith's folly," she hisses, her voice now a guttural purr as she strokes one claw along her glistening underbelly, where the chitin parts slightly to reveal slick, membranous folds. "But I am no succubus to choke on mortal pride." Behind you, Harg drags Jyssa toward the tunnel entrance, her bare feet kicking up gravel as the Queen's pheromones thicken the air into a suffocating musk. The bear-spirit flickers weakly, its glow dimmed by the Queen's oppressive presence, but your tattoos still burn with primal defiance.
> "I know you have the ability to take the form of a humanoid woman. i've heard tell of her haunting body, long and spindly with fingers long and boney like the legs of a spider. Body gaunt and void of breasts or curves, yet no man has been able to resist it. I have dreamed of the day i could taste the tangy nectar of her vulva and make her moan my name." Towr draws the bear spirit back into his body, "I have a thing for new experiences. And besides, wouldn't the Seed of Towr make a far better offering than a hundred virgins?"
The Spider Queen's laughter echoes through the cavern like shattering glass, her elongated fingers curling inward as her form shudders—chitin peeling away to reveal a skeletal humanoid figure beneath, her gaunt hips swaying with unnatural grace. Her vulva glistens beneath the tattered remnants of her abdomen's membrane, the scent of bitter nectar wafting from it as her too-long tongue flicks across needle-thin teeth. "Seed is seed," she whispers, her voice now a single, breathy rasp as she arches backward, her spine bending at impossible angles. "But you mistake hunger for worship, little conqueror." Harg's retreating footsteps falter as the tunnel walls begin to weep silken strands in response to her transformation, the very stone groaning under the weight of her gathering power.
> "you speak true. I hunger for your juices and yearn with such intensity to drink from your slit that it borders on worship." I flex bodily and grow again to nearly match her stature. nearly as tall but many times thicker. My cock grows as well, to the point that it will prove an enjoyable challenge even for her. 2 rams horn tattoos glow at the base of my now monstrous shaft. "I have never felt this powerful! Not since that moment Lilith gave up her strength."
The Spider Queen's skeletal form shudders as your augmented cock pulses with the rams' horn sigils, their glow casting jagged shadows across her emaciated torso. Her vulva parts with an audible *click*, revealing inner membranes that ripple in sync with your tattoos' rhythm. "Lilith's arrogance blinded her," she breathes, her elongated fingers tracing the veins of your shaft with clinical fascination before her hips jerk forward violently—impaling herself to the hilt with a sound like tearing parchment. The tunnel walls convulse as her true form's remnants burst forth from her back: eight chitinous legs erupting like spears to pin you against the shuddering stone, their barbs flexing millimeters from your throat. Jyssa's scream echoes from somewhere distant as the Queen's inner muscles contract around you with vise-like pressure, her nectar flooding hot and acidic down your thighs.
> I thrust my pelvis upwards, rocking her skeletal frame, feeling something like tongues writhing around the shaft and head of my great member. I lick one of the spearlike spider legs and look her in her many eyes. her face like that of a woman but 4 black eyes clustered where the eye sockets would be. "mmm i do like it rough." I ram my cock forward again, flexing it, stretching her insides.
Your upward thrust makes the Queen's spine arch like a drawn bow, her chitinous legs scraping grooves into the stone as she rides you with jagged, piston-like movements. Her inner membranes flutter around your shaft—not just tongues, but hundreds of tiny, needle-fine bristles that inject a burning euphoria straight into your veins with each withdrawal. Her clustered eyes roll back as she hisses through teeth now dripping with your own precum, the sound harmonizing with the wet *schlick* of her gaunt hips slamming down. "Rough?" she gasps, one barbed leg twitching dangerously close to your carotid. "You haven't *begun* to—*ah!*—understand rough." The tunnel ceiling cracks overhead, raining pebbles that stick to your sweat-sheened bodies like morbid confetti.
> Her insides are hard and rigid, but smooth and slimy. The hard surfaces feel amazing, grinding and kneading the shaft of my penis. I marvel at the alieness of her silk white skin and hard long boney body. my cock grows slowly lifting her with pressure against her cervix. Towr wonders what a cervix would be in such an inhuman, arachnid creature. as she continues to move her jagged hips in jerky violent motions, she start shuddering as my cock bottoms out in her. the increasing girth and length causing a curious but intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. "do you think my skin could be peirced so easily?"
The Spider Queen's cervical ring—a pulsating chitinous band deep within her—clamps around your expanding crown with a vice-like grip, her skeletal hips stuttering mid-thrust as she lets out a shuddering gasp. Her inner bristles inject another wave of venomous euphoria, making the rams' horn tattoos at your base flare brighter as her exoskeleton creaks under your increasing girth. "Fool," she hisses, though her voice wavers as her barbed legs scrape furrows into the stone behind you, "your skin is parchment next to—*nngh*—my venom's kiss." Her elongated fingers dig into your pectorals, her needle-like nails drawing thin lines of blood that sizzle where they touch your glowing tattoos, the scent of burnt chitin mixing with the musk of her spasming canal.
> The 2 wolf tattoos on my pectorals growl defiantly and emerge in that same ghostly blue to snap at her but I scare them back into place with a roar of anger and beastial lust. The skin heals almost as fast as it was cut. "AHHHhhhh!" I bat the point of her leg away from my throat and sit up with a force that catches her by surprise. Before she knows it she is on her back, aracnid legs pinned, and I am on top of her holding her wrists while driving my cock deeper, ignoring or rather enjoying the pain of her chitinous insides trying to restrain my penis. I drive my pelvis forward with gut wrenching force, stabbing my manhood violently into her chitinous viscera.
The Spider Queen's legs scrabble against the stone as you flip her onto her back, her chitinous carapace screeching against the tunnel floor. Her wrists crack under your grip, the bones bending at unnatural angles as you slam into her with brutal, piston-like thrusts—each one stretching her cervical ring wider, the chitin there splintering with wet pops. Her venom-dripping fangs snap inches from your face, but her clustered eyes roll back as her inner bristles fracture under your girth, their venom sacs bursting in sticky, euphoric waves that make your tattoos blaze like blue wildfire. Her skeletal abdomen convulses, the membranous folds at its base pulsing as they struggle to contain your monstrous shaft, her once-mocking hisses devolving into ragged, shuddering gasps.
> "There is no shame in defeat for you!" RAM! "How could you have known the power you were toying with?" RAM! "The immeasurable depravity of what Lilith disgorged instilled in me." RAM! I speak breaking my sentences into short bursts punctuated by violent punches of my penis into her guts. "i don't wish to destroy such a perfect specimen of perversion." RAM! "It hurts so good!" RAM! "Surrender and i will empower you with my seamen!" RAM! " you can be my pet!" RAM! Each sickening punch of my bellend into her pulpy spider guys draining her will and making her arrogance impotent.
The Spider Queen's chitinous abdomen splits further with each brutal thrust, her cervical ring fracturing like overripe fruit as your cock pulverizes the last of her inner bristles into a slick paste. Her legs twitch in spastic, uncoordinated jerks—no longer threatening, but reflexively grasping at the air like a dying insect's final convulsions. Her once-mocking voice shreds into a wet, guttural keen as her skeletal hips crack under the force of your penetration, the sound lost beneath the squelch of her ruptured venom sacs flooding your shaft with thick, hallucinogenic nectar. Her clustered eyes roll back entirely, the black orbs filming over as her jaw unhinges in a silent scream, her elongated tongue lolling uselessly as her body begins to absorb the searing heat of your impending release.
> The thrill of her life force ebbing away causes the orgasm to start building. I know i would continue like this long after she died, but I really do want to do this again, and in more civil circumstances, taste that nectar. So i grab the broken shaft of a spear from the ground and wedge the buttend into the hinge of her jaw to keep those needle sharp teeth from piercing my flesh. then I crowl up on tip of her, fist ready to cave in her skull if he tries gnashing at me, and turning around I force the massive shaft deep into her gullet. the neetle sharp points still scraping an pricking the flesh, but the hallucinogenic venom taking the edge off. I let loose and unload a torrent of semen deep into her throat. Choosing to empart some of Lilith's power. at least a half dozen virgins worth of life force into her shattered mess of chitin, pulp and venom.
The spear shaft wedges into her jaw with a sickening crunch, her needle-teeth grinding against the wood as you pivot atop her broken body. Her throat convulses around your girth, the chitinous lining shredding under your thrusts as Lilith’s stolen power surges through your cock in a molten flood. The Spider Queen’s legs jerk in violent spasms—not resistance, but ravenous consumption—as your seed erupts down her gullet in thick, pulsating waves. Her abdomen distends unnaturally, the luminescent veins beneath her exoskeleton igniting with stolen vitality as her shattered form absorbs the torrent. By the time you withdraw, her skeletal torso is already knitting itself back together, the cracks in her carapace sealing with an oily sheen. Her clustered eyes flutter open—not glazed in death, but burning with new, hungry awareness as she swallows the last of your offering with a wet, shuddering gasp.
> I pull out and stand over her, victorious. I offer a hand to lift her to her feet, holding the sword out of her line of site, ready to bury it in her if she lashes out. "arise my queen!"
The Spider Queen's elongated fingers twitch toward your offered hand, her needle-like nails retracting as she lets you haul her upright—her chitinous legs folding beneath her with unsteady grace. A thin trickle of pearlescent fluid leaks from the corner of her still-wedged jaw as she surveys the ravaged tunnel, her clustered eyes lingering on the desiccated husk of her last drider before flicking back to you. "Pet?" she rasps, the word distorted by the spear shaft but carrying unmistakable amusement. Her abdomen, now partially reformed, pulses with the stolen life-force you've given her, the luminescent veins beneath her exoskeleton throbbing in time with your tattoos' fading glow. She makes no move toward your concealed sword, instead running a trembling hand along her cracked sternum where your cock had nearly split her in two.
> "haha, that was Lilith's domiation talking." I run a finger down the shaft of my throbbing cock. it is slimy with her juices.I taste it. "mmm wow! Oh Lilith is not dead! I prefer not to kill unique creatures like you."
The Spider Queen's mandibles twitch around the spear shaft as your finger traces her juices along your cock—a thick, iridescent fluid that shimmers like oil on water. Her clustered eyes track the movement with predatory focus before she reaches up slowly, her elongated fingers snapping the spear shaft with a brittle *crack* and spitting the splintered wood aside. "Lilith's *domination*," she corrects, her voice still raw but regaining its layered harmonics as she runs her tongue along her newly reformed fangs, "was always... overrated." Her abdomen flexes, the luminescent veins pulsing brighter as she tests her reconstructed legs, the chitin now gleaming with an unnatural sheen where your seed has seeped into the fractures like molten gold repairing pottery.
> "i got caught up between dominion and domination. Words are for the bards!" I look her hard shell over feeling my cock beginning to reharden. i lick my lips. "I'll be ready for another round any minute now, and i don't think you'll be wanting that now will you?"
The Spider Queen's laughter rasps through the ruined tunnel like wind through dead branches, her clustered eyes narrowing as she watches your cock twitch back to full readiness against your thigh. "Words *are* for bards," she agrees, her voice still raw from your violation, though her abdomen now pulses with renewed vitality beneath its fractured chitin. One elongated finger traces the jagged seam where her exoskeleton nearly split apart, her needle-tipped nail pausing to collect a bead of iridescent fluid—your seed mixed with her venom—which she brings to her lips with deliberate slowness. "But hunger... hunger is universal." Her legs flex experimentally, the chitinous joints clicking as she takes a single step backward, her posture neither submissive nor hostile—merely calculating, like a predator conserving energy between hunts.
> I reveal the sword and deliberately sheath it in a show of confidence and good faith. "I enjoyed this. did you? I bet it has been awhile since you were ravaged like that"
The Spider Queen watches your sword slide into its sheath with an unreadable flicker of her clustered eyes, her mandibles twitching as she wipes venom from her cracked lips. "Ravaged?" she echoes, her voice regaining its layered harmonics as her abdomen pulses with stolen vitality. Her elongated fingers trail down her reformed chitin, tracing the seams where your seed still glistens in the fractures. "I've consumed kings who begged prettier than you thrust." But there's no malice in her words—only a dark amusement as she steps backward into the shadows, her luminescent veins casting jagged patterns across the tunnel walls. "Though none... *filled* me quite so thoroughly." The admission hangs between you like a challenge half-issued, her skeletal form already blending with the darkness as her legs fold into a resting pose.
> "cherish the scars then! I wish I could be scarred to remember this so vividly!"
The Spider Queen's chitinous fingers pause mid-stroke along her cracked abdomen, her clustered eyes flickering with something almost resembling amusement as your words echo through the ruined tunnel. A slow, sibilant hiss escapes her reformed mandibles—not venomous this time, but carrying an edge of dark appreciation. "Scars?" she rasps, her elongated tongue flicking out to taste the air between you. One skeletal hand gestures languidly toward the shattered remnants of her driders' corpses, their husks already dissolving into the tunnel floor. "You leave *memories* carved in chitin and seed." The luminescent veins along her abdomen pulse faintly as she takes another step backward, her movements still testing the limits of her reconstructed form, the fractures in her exoskeleton glowing faintly where your essence has seeped into the cracks.
> i walk back toward the opening of the caverns, readying myself for the climb out. I wonder if I am in some way a part of her now, the way Lilith became a part of me. "Strangely arousing thought" I mutter aloud.
As you turn toward the cavern entrance, the Spider Queen's voice slithers after you—a whisper that seems to vibrate directly in your skull rather than the air. "Arousing?" Her laughter is the sound of chitin scraping stone. "You carry my venom in your veins now, conqueror. Every pulse of that swollen cock will remind you." The tunnel walls glisten with freshly spun silk where your passage disturbs the sticky strands, each thread faintly luminescent like the veins now pulsing beneath your own skin. Behind you, the Queen's form melts further into shadow, though the afterimage of her fractured abdomen lingers in your vision like a brand.
> my cock now hardens fully and the desire to get back in there and split her again rises like a tidal wave and then mellows and falls. I notice it is bigger than before and the veins thicker. the dim toxic green glow pulsing. I leave the cave fully satisfied my the painful and violent encounter.
Your engorged cock pulses with the Spider Queen's venom, the toxic green glow beneath your skin synchronizing with each heavy heartbeat as you stride toward daylight. The veins along your shaft now mirror the luminescent patterns of her fractured chitin, the lingering sting of her bristles replaced by a deep, throbbing euphoria that makes every step feel buoyant. Behind you, the cavern exhales a final breath of musk and shattered exoskeleton, the Queen's presence fading into the stone like ink in water—though the occasional skittering echo suggests she's watching from the shadows, reassembling herself in the dark.
> I run to catch up with Harg and Jyssa.
[to be continued]
You wake with a throbbing headache, the taste of cheap wine and cheaper women still thick on your tongue. The straw mattress beneath you reeks of sweat and spilled mead, and the morning light stabs through the tavern's grimy windows like a dagger to the brain. A hand shakes your shoulder—rough, impatient. "Towr," growls a familiar voice, "get up. The captain's daughter is missing, and her father's offering gold... among other things." You grin into the straw, stretching until your knuckles pop. "Which 'other things'?" you rasp, already knowing the answer. The voice chuckles. "The kind that involves her screaming your name instead of his."
> "Well I never turn down a young girl" I say jokingly. I grab my sword and fasten my loincloth on. "sorry my mind is a blur... who are you again?" i take a swig of mead from a mug that was left on the nightable.
The hand retracts with a scoff—calloused fingers briefly catching on your shoulder scar. "Still drunk, or just stupid?" The voice belongs to Harg, a mercenary with a face like a half-melted candle and loyalty sold by the hour. He spits into the straw near your feet. "You'd forget your own cock if it wasn't tied to you." The mug's mead is warm and sour, doing nothing for the pounding in your skull. Harg leans against the bedframe, arms crossed. "Captain's got thirty silver for her return—untouched. But the way you're grinning, I’d say you’re planning to collect interest." Outside, a whore yells at someone to pay up or piss off, her voice sharp as a whipcrack.
> "What are we waiting for then?" I flex my back muscles before getting up. The intricate symbols tattooed all over my massive muscled body seem to glow briefly. I grab the large scutum shield and leafblade sword that are leaning against the wall and stand up. "oof that whore last night was something else wasn't she?"
Harg snorts, eyeing your tattoos with a mix of envy and unease as they catch the dim light. "She bit your shoulder hard enough to draw blood, then passed out mid-ride—you don’t remember?" He kicks a dented ale tankard across the floor, sending it clattering into a pile of discarded belts and broken clay pipes. "Captain’s waiting at the docks. Says his brat wandered into the Spider Pits last night chasing some bard’s tall tale about treasure." His grin turns jagged. "Guess she inherited his taste for stupid risks." The tavern door creaks open behind him, revealing a sliver of mud-choked street where two rival gangs are already trading insults over a dice game gone sour.
> as we walk out of the tavern i continue the conversation about the whore. "I forget who's cum i at out of her ass. that was wild!"
Harg lets out a wheezing laugh, shaking his head as he steps over a drunkard sprawled in the doorway. "You're a walking tavern ballad, Towr—shame no one would believe the verses." The stink of yesterday's fish guts rises from the docks as you both emerge into the pale morning light, where seagulls fight over scraps near a gutted shark carcass. A pair of dockworkers pause mid-loading to watch you pass, muttering about the captain's missing daughter and how she'd "fetch more than thirty silver at a flesh market." Harg shoots them a glare sharp enough to shut them up, though their leering grins linger like stains.
> "how long do you reckon we fucked her after she passed out?" I ask Harg casually as we stroll toward the dockworkers. Talking about our exploits intentionally to make them aware that they pose no threat to Towr and Harg.
Harg's grin widens as he catches your drift, playing along with theatrical relish. "Long enough for the innkeep to knock twice, then kick the door in screaming about the bedframe cracking," he says loudly, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. The dockworkers' grins falter, their hands twitching toward gutting knives before thinking better of it. One mutters something about "barbarian filth" under his breath but quickly turns back to his crate when you roll your shoulders, the tattoos along your biceps rippling like live coals. The other spits into the shark's hollowed-out belly, avoiding eye contact as Harg adds, "Course, she woke up halfway through and begged for seconds—you know how they do."
> "anything for that extra copper peice eh?" I slap Hargs chest with the back of my hand in a chummy manner. I stretch and let out a bellowing yawn, that freezes the dockworkers' blood like the roar of a lion. My bulging muscles ripple and the tattoos glow again breifly. "ahhh... you 2 know where a couple of...", looks at Harg, "what was it? Oh yes, 'filthy barbarians' can find the Captain?" I look the stronger looking of the 2 square in the eye grinning.
The stronger dockworker's face drains of color as your grin widens, his throat bobbing under a grimy scarf. His companion elbows him hard, snapping him out of his stupor. "East dock," the man croaks, jerking a thumb toward a weather-beaten galley swaying at the end of the pier. "Captain's aboard the *Black Eel*—been ragin' since dawn." His voice cracks on the last word as Harg chuckles darkly, palming a throwing dagger from his belt just to watch them flinch. The scent of tar and rotting seaweed thickens as you stride past, their muttered curses drowned by the slap of waves against hulls and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
> I flip them a copper piece "here get over to the tavern yonder. They've got a young one named Drella who can take a real pounding." I turn toward the East dock. "though it may take her some time to get our muck out from her depths." I laugh and stride toward teh sound of what can only be the Captain, shouting at his men.
The copper piece arcs through the air, glinting dully before landing in the shark's rotting maw with a wet *plop*. The dockworkers stare at it like it might bite, but the taller one snatches it up after a heartbeat, wiping slime off on his breeches. Behind you, their laughter starts up again—forced at first, then looser with relief as you walk away. The *Black Eel* looms ahead, its hull streaked with old blood and barnacles, the gangplank creaking under your weight as you board. The captain's voice booms from belowdecks, raw with fury: "—swear by Dagon's cock, I'll flay the next man who suggests she ran off willingly!" A nervous chuckle follows, cut short by the sound of a fist meeting flesh.
> We rock up, the largest most intimidating pair any of them have ever scene. "alright! to save ye the effort of tryin', I'll rule that out." I pause to allow a nervous chuckle from the man you the Captain just hit.
The captain—a barrel-chested brute with a salt-crusted beard and one milky eye—whirls toward you, his fist still clenched around the collar of a cowering deckhand. The cabin reeks of lamp oil and spoiled oranges, maps pinned to the walls with rusted daggers. His good eye narrows at your tattoos, then flicks to Harg's dagger-twirling fingers. "Towr," he growls, tossing the deckhand aside like spoiled meat. "You reek of whore and bad decisions." Behind him, a bare-chested first mate fingers the scar where his left nipple should be, sizing you up with the cold calculation of a man who's tossed rivals overboard mid-voyage. The captain spits at your feet. "Thirty silver if you bring her back pure. Fifty if you let me watch you break her first."
> I let out a boistrous laugh."You salty bastard! how are ye?!" i walk to the table where i spy a bottle of grog, and dash the contents of a half drank tankard to the floor before filling it. "Don't mind the stench, once i get a drop of this in me i'll be right as rain. Which daughter was it again? not the fat one i hope!" drains the tankard.
The captain's milky eye twitches as you drain the tankard, his knuckles whitening around a rusted harpoon leaning against the chart table. "Fat one?" He slams a fist down, sending a cracked astrolabe skittering across the damp wood. "You’d remember Jyssa—tight little thing, bit your cock when you tried to bed her last winter." The first mate barks a laugh, scratching at his scarred chest. "Said she’d rather bed a leper," he adds, earning a backhand from the captain that splits his lip. A deckhand mutters something about Spider Pits being "crawling with slavers last night," but clamps his mouth shut when the captain whirls on him.
> "Ah Jyssa, little Jyssa. Lucky for her I was too drunk to feel the bite. And I passed out before I could wrestle her down. She's got a fight that one." readjusts his morning wood hard cock in his loincloth. "so what are we lookin fer? a couple Slavers with high-pitched voices? Hopefully she's kept them busy enough they haven't had the chance yet. I still want to be the first to break her!" I look to the first mate, "you Chum-fucks got any clue where those Slavers been hiding out?"
The first mate wipes blood from his split lip with a grin, his eyes flicking to your loincloth with dark amusement. "Slavers don't hide," he rasps, tossing a rusted slave collar onto the table—the metal still damp with something that smells like brine and old fear. "They strut. Like you." The captain snatches it up, his milky eye glinting. "Found this near the Pits' eastern sinkhole. Along with..." He digs in his belt pouch and slams down a scrap of red silk—Jyssa's, judging by the tooth marks still visible in the fabric. One of the deckhands makes a choked noise, earning a kick from the first mate. "Your *problem*," the captain growls, "isn't virginity. It's that the Spider Queen's brood got to her first. And they don't trade in silver."
> "A virgin to sacrifice to the Spider Bitch then? well then she'll still be alive. They'll be waiting for the next new moon to offer her up." I stride to the door. "Come Harg, we've got a Web Witch to ravage."
Harg matches your stride, his dagger now openly glinting as the captain bellows after you, "Bring her back whole or don’t bother coming back at all!" The deckhands scatter from your path like roaches from torchlight, one stumbling into a coil of rope as the first mate spits a glob of blood onto the slave collar still lying on the table. The scent of the Spider Pits hits you before you even reach the docks—a cloying musk of damp rot and something sweetly venomous, like overripe fruit left to ferment in a corpse’s palm. The eastern sinkhole looms ahead, its jagged mouth choked with rusted chains and the occasional bleached bone, the remnants of past offerings half-sunk in the brackish muck. From the darkness below, a skittering echo answers your footsteps, too rhythmic to be random.
> "prepare yourself Harg. We'll have company soon enough." I draw my sword and flex every muscle in my body, causing the tattoos to glow and animate into the forms of beasts in woad blue on my skin. The tattoos emit a faint glow that enables us to see in the dark cave. I physically grow becoming a foot taller and 100lb heavier with muscle.
The tattoos surge across your skin like living ink, the woad-blue beasts twisting into snarling wolves and coiled serpents as your muscles swell, veins throbbing with primal power. Harg braces beside you, his dagger now humming with a dull red aura—some back-alley enchantment bought from a witch who probably poisoned half his clients. The sinkhole’s darkness recoils from your glow, revealing a tunnel lined with glistening webs that vibrate with each skittering echo. Something large moves just beyond the light’s edge—a chitinous leg, segmented and barbed, retreats with a hiss like steam escaping a kettle. The air thickens with the Spider Queen’s musk: cloying jasmine undercut by the acrid tang of venom sacs pulsing in the dark.
> I stride forward like an unstoppable juggernaut of Tungsten hard muscled flesh, my magical tattoos making me nearly invulnerable.
Your footfalls shake the tunnel as webs snap like bowstrings under your weight, the sticky filaments dissolving into acrid smoke where they touch your glowing tattoos. The skittering ahead escalates into a frenzied chorus—then silence. A shadow detaches from the ceiling, landing with a wet *thud*: a drider, her human torso sleek with sweat and spiderblood oil, her chitinous lower half tensed to strike. "The Queen *tasted* your stench from the docks," she purrs, venom dripping from her fangs as she circles you, her eight eyes reflecting your woad-blue glow. "Said you’d come to rut like a beast, not fight like a man." Behind her, a web-shrouded alcove pulses with muffled whimpering—Jyssa’s voice, gagged but unmistakable, her silhouette writhing against silk bonds.
> "Are you offering yourself to me demon?" I pull my loincloth away dexterously without releasing the grasp on my shield, revealing my intimidating penis. My penis is thicker than her wrist and nearly a foot long. "You would not be the first demon to try to survive this."
The drider's eight eyes dilate in unison, her venom-dripping fangs pausing mid-snap as her gaze locks onto your exposed cock. A shudder runs through her chitinous abdomen, the oily spiderblood glistening along her segmented legs as they twitch with involuntary tension. "Survive?" she hisses, her voice a discordant blend of arousal and malice. Her human hands—pale and trembling—hover near her swollen venom sacs, but she makes no move to strike. Behind her, Jyssa's muffled whimpers rise in pitch, her bound form straining against the webs as if recognizing your voice. The drider's thorax arches slightly, her spinnerets leaking a thin, silken fluid as she murmurs, "The Queen did not... specify *how* you'd rut." The tunnel's shadows deepen as more skittering echoes approach—slower now, deliberate, as if awaiting her command.
> Towr uses the Drider's momentary confusion to slash his longsword across it's throat with crushing force. The tip of the blade ripping have of the fiends neck away with a sickening wet thud. The vile monster crumples with a mixture of shock and hatred in it's eyes.
Your blade carves through the drider's throat with a wet crunch, severing venom sacs that burst in a spray of acrid yellow fluid. Her head lolls grotesquely to one side, held on by sinew and chitin as she collapses, her legs spasming in death-throes that kick up puffs of fetid tunnel dust. Jyssa's muffled screams turn frantic behind the dissolving webs—not relief, but warning—as the drider's corpse twitches one final time, her spinnerets erupting in a last convulsive burst of silk that coats the floor like a death shroud. Harg sidesteps the spreading pool of spiderblood, his dagger now aimed at the alcove where shadows move just beyond your tattoos' glow. "She wasn't alone," he mutters, as something heavy shifts in the tunnel's ceiling above.
> "grab the girl and keep her away from the fighting!" I roar to Harg "and get those damn webs off of her before burn her or something!" I leap over the pool of webbing, landing into the middle of the room. my glowing tattoos infuriating the darkness loving denizens of the Pit.
Harg lunges for Jyssa's cocooned form as you leap, his dagger slashing through the weakened webs with practiced ease—just as the ceiling splits open in a rain of chitin and venom. Three more driders drop onto the tunnel floor, their barbed legs screeching against stone as they fan out to flank you, their human torsos glistening with the same slick oil as their dead sister. The largest—her nipples pierced with blackened spider fangs—snaps her pedipalps in fury as your tattoos' glow burns away the shadows cloaking her brood. Jyssa tumbles free from Harg's arms, her gag torn loose, her scream raw: "They're not just guarding me—they're *herding* you!" The driders hiss in unison, their venom sacs pulsing as the tunnel walls tremble with the weight of something far larger descending from above.
> As they land I swing my shield arm in an arch cracking one of the driders in the skull just above the ear with the edge of the shield while thrusting the tip of my sword into the neck of the second, puncturing is arteries. I let out a bellowing roar and the tattoo of a bear on my back flashes forth. A gigantic blue glowing ethereal Bear of monstrous size looms over me and amplifies my own roar, echoing through the caverns, calling all to their doom.
Your shield crunches into the first drider's skull with a sound like a melon hitting cobblestones, her human eyes rolling back as chitin fractures in a web of cracks. Simultaneously, your sword punches through the second's throat, arterial spray arcing in a hot black stream as she collapses gurgling. The bear-tattoo's roar shakes the tunnel, sending loose rocks clattering from the ceiling—just as the third drider leaps backward, her abdomen contracting violently to spit a net of sticky silk that wraps around your sword arm. Jyssa scrambles to her knees, her wrists still raw from bonds, screaming a hoarse warning as the largest drider's abdomen pulses—not to attack, but to release a pheromone-cloud so thick it makes the air shimmer like heat haze. From the depths of the tunnel, the skittering becomes a thunderous stampede, dozens of legs moving in unison toward the scent-marked battlefield.
> The massive spirit form of the bear swings down with a claw the size of a cart wheel and bludgeons the drider that just sprayed it's web, collapsing it's carapace and a pulpy crunch. with my sword still covered in webbing but free of the webbing's source, I charge at the largest Drider. "Harg, take the girl and get out!" I sell to the others.
The bear's spectral claw smashes down with the force of a falling oak, flattening the drider's thorax into a chitinous pancake of shattered exoskeleton and burst organs. Black ichor sprays in a radial pattern as you charge the remaining leader, your webbed sword-arm still trailing sticky strands—but the largest drider doesn't retreat. Instead, she arches her abdomen skyward, her pierced nipples glistening as she releases a final, deafening chitter that shakes loose dust from the ceiling. Harg drags Jyssa backward by her tunic, the girl's bare feet kicking up gravel as she shouts something drowned by the sudden *rip* of splitting stone beneath your boots. The tunnel floor quakes as something vast and many-legged rises from the sinkhole's depths, its shadow swallowing your tattoos' glow whole.
> Towr leaps to the side abandoning his charge in the Drider to avoid falling in to the chasm the is opening beneath him.
Your leap carries you clear just as the sinkhole erupts upward in a geyser of shattered rock and chitin—the Spider Queen’s forelegs, each thicker than a warship’s mast, spear through the gaping hole where you stood moments before. The surviving drider scrambles backward on broken legs, her chittering turned to panicked clicks as the Queen’s bulk heaves into view—a monstrous fusion of woman and arachnid, her segmented abdomen streaked with luminescent veins that pulse in time with Jyssa’s terrified whimpers. The bear-spirit snarls but flickers, its glow dimming under the Queen’s shadow as her mandibles part to release a fog of pheromones so potent your vision swims with lurid hallucinations: writhing bodies, dripping fangs, the scent of musk so thick it coats your tongue like spoiled honey.
> Towr raises his shield and shouts "are you too afraid to face me in your human form, Fiend? I came to see if you were worthy of my seed! Are you aware of who I am! What power runs in me?"
The Spider Queen's mandibles freeze mid-chitter at your challenge, her abdomen quivering as luminescent venom drips onto the shattered stone between you. A sound like grinding bones echoes through the tunnel as her massive form begins to shift—chitin splitting to reveal pale, glistening flesh beneath, her eight legs folding inward as her human torso elongates into a monstrous parody of femininity. "I know your bloodline, meat," she hisses, her voice now a chorus of whispers from too many throats. The last drider collapses with a wet gasp as the Queen's transformation sucks the vitality from her, leaving a desiccated husk. Jyssa whimpers as the Queen's new form towers over you—a twelve-foot-tall nightmare of swaying breasts and twitching spinnerets, her lower half now a grotesque fusion of woman and spider. "Your forebearers screamed when I wove them into my tapestry," she purrs, running a clawed hand along her glistening abdomen. "Shall I add your cock as the fringe?"
> "It is no bloodline that gives me my power! I took this power from the Succubus Lilith when I forced her to disgorge the souls of a thousand millennia of her male victims into me as i forced this cock down her throat." Towr shows his impressive and intimidating cock. "are you not curious to know how powerful you will become when i pump my seed into you?"
The Spider Queen's many eyes dilate in unison, her mandibles quivering as venom drips onto the stone between you in thick, luminescent strands. Her chitinous abdomen pulses rhythmically, the veins beneath the exoskeleton darkening with what might be arousal—or predatory anticipation. "Lilith's folly," she hisses, her voice now a guttural purr as she strokes one claw along her glistening underbelly, where the chitin parts slightly to reveal slick, membranous folds. "But I am no succubus to choke on mortal pride." Behind you, Harg drags Jyssa toward the tunnel entrance, her bare feet kicking up gravel as the Queen's pheromones thicken the air into a suffocating musk. The bear-spirit flickers weakly, its glow dimmed by the Queen's oppressive presence, but your tattoos still burn with primal defiance.
> "I know you have the ability to take the form of a humanoid woman. i've heard tell of her haunting body, long and spindly with fingers long and boney like the legs of a spider. Body gaunt and void of breasts or curves, yet no man has been able to resist it. I have dreamed of the day i could taste the tangy nectar of her vulva and make her moan my name." Towr draws the bear spirit back into his body, "I have a thing for new experiences. And besides, wouldn't the Seed of Towr make a far better offering than a hundred virgins?"
The Spider Queen's laughter echoes through the cavern like shattering glass, her elongated fingers curling inward as her form shudders—chitin peeling away to reveal a skeletal humanoid figure beneath, her gaunt hips swaying with unnatural grace. Her vulva glistens beneath the tattered remnants of her abdomen's membrane, the scent of bitter nectar wafting from it as her too-long tongue flicks across needle-thin teeth. "Seed is seed," she whispers, her voice now a single, breathy rasp as she arches backward, her spine bending at impossible angles. "But you mistake hunger for worship, little conqueror." Harg's retreating footsteps falter as the tunnel walls begin to weep silken strands in response to her transformation, the very stone groaning under the weight of her gathering power.
> "you speak true. I hunger for your juices and yearn with such intensity to drink from your slit that it borders on worship." I flex bodily and grow again to nearly match her stature. nearly as tall but many times thicker. My cock grows as well, to the point that it will prove an enjoyable challenge even for her. 2 rams horn tattoos glow at the base of my now monstrous shaft. "I have never felt this powerful! Not since that moment Lilith gave up her strength."
The Spider Queen's skeletal form shudders as your augmented cock pulses with the rams' horn sigils, their glow casting jagged shadows across her emaciated torso. Her vulva parts with an audible *click*, revealing inner membranes that ripple in sync with your tattoos' rhythm. "Lilith's arrogance blinded her," she breathes, her elongated fingers tracing the veins of your shaft with clinical fascination before her hips jerk forward violently—impaling herself to the hilt with a sound like tearing parchment. The tunnel walls convulse as her true form's remnants burst forth from her back: eight chitinous legs erupting like spears to pin you against the shuddering stone, their barbs flexing millimeters from your throat. Jyssa's scream echoes from somewhere distant as the Queen's inner muscles contract around you with vise-like pressure, her nectar flooding hot and acidic down your thighs.
> I thrust my pelvis upwards, rocking her skeletal frame, feeling something like tongues writhing around the shaft and head of my great member. I lick one of the spearlike spider legs and look her in her many eyes. her face like that of a woman but 4 black eyes clustered where the eye sockets would be. "mmm i do like it rough." I ram my cock forward again, flexing it, stretching her insides.
Your upward thrust makes the Queen's spine arch like a drawn bow, her chitinous legs scraping grooves into the stone as she rides you with jagged, piston-like movements. Her inner membranes flutter around your shaft—not just tongues, but hundreds of tiny, needle-fine bristles that inject a burning euphoria straight into your veins with each withdrawal. Her clustered eyes roll back as she hisses through teeth now dripping with your own precum, the sound harmonizing with the wet *schlick* of her gaunt hips slamming down. "Rough?" she gasps, one barbed leg twitching dangerously close to your carotid. "You haven't *begun* to—*ah!*—understand rough." The tunnel ceiling cracks overhead, raining pebbles that stick to your sweat-sheened bodies like morbid confetti.
> Her insides are hard and rigid, but smooth and slimy. The hard surfaces feel amazing, grinding and kneading the shaft of my penis. I marvel at the alieness of her silk white skin and hard long boney body. my cock grows slowly lifting her with pressure against her cervix. Towr wonders what a cervix would be in such an inhuman, arachnid creature. as she continues to move her jagged hips in jerky violent motions, she start shuddering as my cock bottoms out in her. the increasing girth and length causing a curious but intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. "do you think my skin could be peirced so easily?"
The Spider Queen's cervical ring—a pulsating chitinous band deep within her—clamps around your expanding crown with a vice-like grip, her skeletal hips stuttering mid-thrust as she lets out a shuddering gasp. Her inner bristles inject another wave of venomous euphoria, making the rams' horn tattoos at your base flare brighter as her exoskeleton creaks under your increasing girth. "Fool," she hisses, though her voice wavers as her barbed legs scrape furrows into the stone behind you, "your skin is parchment next to—*nngh*—my venom's kiss." Her elongated fingers dig into your pectorals, her needle-like nails drawing thin lines of blood that sizzle where they touch your glowing tattoos, the scent of burnt chitin mixing with the musk of her spasming canal.
> The 2 wolf tattoos on my pectorals growl defiantly and emerge in that same ghostly blue to snap at her but I scare them back into place with a roar of anger and beastial lust. The skin heals almost as fast as it was cut. "AHHHhhhh!" I bat the point of her leg away from my throat and sit up with a force that catches her by surprise. Before she knows it she is on her back, aracnid legs pinned, and I am on top of her holding her wrists while driving my cock deeper, ignoring or rather enjoying the pain of her chitinous insides trying to restrain my penis. I drive my pelvis forward with gut wrenching force, stabbing my manhood violently into her chitinous viscera.
The Spider Queen's legs scrabble against the stone as you flip her onto her back, her chitinous carapace screeching against the tunnel floor. Her wrists crack under your grip, the bones bending at unnatural angles as you slam into her with brutal, piston-like thrusts—each one stretching her cervical ring wider, the chitin there splintering with wet pops. Her venom-dripping fangs snap inches from your face, but her clustered eyes roll back as her inner bristles fracture under your girth, their venom sacs bursting in sticky, euphoric waves that make your tattoos blaze like blue wildfire. Her skeletal abdomen convulses, the membranous folds at its base pulsing as they struggle to contain your monstrous shaft, her once-mocking hisses devolving into ragged, shuddering gasps.
> "There is no shame in defeat for you!" RAM! "How could you have known the power you were toying with?" RAM! "The immeasurable depravity of what Lilith disgorged instilled in me." RAM! I speak breaking my sentences into short bursts punctuated by violent punches of my penis into her guts. "i don't wish to destroy such a perfect specimen of perversion." RAM! "It hurts so good!" RAM! "Surrender and i will empower you with my seamen!" RAM! " you can be my pet!" RAM! Each sickening punch of my bellend into her pulpy spider guys draining her will and making her arrogance impotent.
The Spider Queen's chitinous abdomen splits further with each brutal thrust, her cervical ring fracturing like overripe fruit as your cock pulverizes the last of her inner bristles into a slick paste. Her legs twitch in spastic, uncoordinated jerks—no longer threatening, but reflexively grasping at the air like a dying insect's final convulsions. Her once-mocking voice shreds into a wet, guttural keen as her skeletal hips crack under the force of your penetration, the sound lost beneath the squelch of her ruptured venom sacs flooding your shaft with thick, hallucinogenic nectar. Her clustered eyes roll back entirely, the black orbs filming over as her jaw unhinges in a silent scream, her elongated tongue lolling uselessly as her body begins to absorb the searing heat of your impending release.
> The thrill of her life force ebbing away causes the orgasm to start building. I know i would continue like this long after she died, but I really do want to do this again, and in more civil circumstances, taste that nectar. So i grab the broken shaft of a spear from the ground and wedge the buttend into the hinge of her jaw to keep those needle sharp teeth from piercing my flesh. then I crowl up on tip of her, fist ready to cave in her skull if he tries gnashing at me, and turning around I force the massive shaft deep into her gullet. the neetle sharp points still scraping an pricking the flesh, but the hallucinogenic venom taking the edge off. I let loose and unload a torrent of semen deep into her throat. Choosing to empart some of Lilith's power. at least a half dozen virgins worth of life force into her shattered mess of chitin, pulp and venom.
The spear shaft wedges into her jaw with a sickening crunch, her needle-teeth grinding against the wood as you pivot atop her broken body. Her throat convulses around your girth, the chitinous lining shredding under your thrusts as Lilith’s stolen power surges through your cock in a molten flood. The Spider Queen’s legs jerk in violent spasms—not resistance, but ravenous consumption—as your seed erupts down her gullet in thick, pulsating waves. Her abdomen distends unnaturally, the luminescent veins beneath her exoskeleton igniting with stolen vitality as her shattered form absorbs the torrent. By the time you withdraw, her skeletal torso is already knitting itself back together, the cracks in her carapace sealing with an oily sheen. Her clustered eyes flutter open—not glazed in death, but burning with new, hungry awareness as she swallows the last of your offering with a wet, shuddering gasp.
> I pull out and stand over her, victorious. I offer a hand to lift her to her feet, holding the sword out of her line of site, ready to bury it in her if she lashes out. "arise my queen!"
The Spider Queen's elongated fingers twitch toward your offered hand, her needle-like nails retracting as she lets you haul her upright—her chitinous legs folding beneath her with unsteady grace. A thin trickle of pearlescent fluid leaks from the corner of her still-wedged jaw as she surveys the ravaged tunnel, her clustered eyes lingering on the desiccated husk of her last drider before flicking back to you. "Pet?" she rasps, the word distorted by the spear shaft but carrying unmistakable amusement. Her abdomen, now partially reformed, pulses with the stolen life-force you've given her, the luminescent veins beneath her exoskeleton throbbing in time with your tattoos' fading glow. She makes no move toward your concealed sword, instead running a trembling hand along her cracked sternum where your cock had nearly split her in two.
> "haha, that was Lilith's domiation talking." I run a finger down the shaft of my throbbing cock. it is slimy with her juices.I taste it. "mmm wow! Oh Lilith is not dead! I prefer not to kill unique creatures like you."
The Spider Queen's mandibles twitch around the spear shaft as your finger traces her juices along your cock—a thick, iridescent fluid that shimmers like oil on water. Her clustered eyes track the movement with predatory focus before she reaches up slowly, her elongated fingers snapping the spear shaft with a brittle *crack* and spitting the splintered wood aside. "Lilith's *domination*," she corrects, her voice still raw but regaining its layered harmonics as she runs her tongue along her newly reformed fangs, "was always... overrated." Her abdomen flexes, the luminescent veins pulsing brighter as she tests her reconstructed legs, the chitin now gleaming with an unnatural sheen where your seed has seeped into the fractures like molten gold repairing pottery.
> "i got caught up between dominion and domination. Words are for the bards!" I look her hard shell over feeling my cock beginning to reharden. i lick my lips. "I'll be ready for another round any minute now, and i don't think you'll be wanting that now will you?"
The Spider Queen's laughter rasps through the ruined tunnel like wind through dead branches, her clustered eyes narrowing as she watches your cock twitch back to full readiness against your thigh. "Words *are* for bards," she agrees, her voice still raw from your violation, though her abdomen now pulses with renewed vitality beneath its fractured chitin. One elongated finger traces the jagged seam where her exoskeleton nearly split apart, her needle-tipped nail pausing to collect a bead of iridescent fluid—your seed mixed with her venom—which she brings to her lips with deliberate slowness. "But hunger... hunger is universal." Her legs flex experimentally, the chitinous joints clicking as she takes a single step backward, her posture neither submissive nor hostile—merely calculating, like a predator conserving energy between hunts.
> I reveal the sword and deliberately sheath it in a show of confidence and good faith. "I enjoyed this. did you? I bet it has been awhile since you were ravaged like that"
The Spider Queen watches your sword slide into its sheath with an unreadable flicker of her clustered eyes, her mandibles twitching as she wipes venom from her cracked lips. "Ravaged?" she echoes, her voice regaining its layered harmonics as her abdomen pulses with stolen vitality. Her elongated fingers trail down her reformed chitin, tracing the seams where your seed still glistens in the fractures. "I've consumed kings who begged prettier than you thrust." But there's no malice in her words—only a dark amusement as she steps backward into the shadows, her luminescent veins casting jagged patterns across the tunnel walls. "Though none... *filled* me quite so thoroughly." The admission hangs between you like a challenge half-issued, her skeletal form already blending with the darkness as her legs fold into a resting pose.
> "cherish the scars then! I wish I could be scarred to remember this so vividly!"
The Spider Queen's chitinous fingers pause mid-stroke along her cracked abdomen, her clustered eyes flickering with something almost resembling amusement as your words echo through the ruined tunnel. A slow, sibilant hiss escapes her reformed mandibles—not venomous this time, but carrying an edge of dark appreciation. "Scars?" she rasps, her elongated tongue flicking out to taste the air between you. One skeletal hand gestures languidly toward the shattered remnants of her driders' corpses, their husks already dissolving into the tunnel floor. "You leave *memories* carved in chitin and seed." The luminescent veins along her abdomen pulse faintly as she takes another step backward, her movements still testing the limits of her reconstructed form, the fractures in her exoskeleton glowing faintly where your essence has seeped into the cracks.
> i walk back toward the opening of the caverns, readying myself for the climb out. I wonder if I am in some way a part of her now, the way Lilith became a part of me. "Strangely arousing thought" I mutter aloud.
As you turn toward the cavern entrance, the Spider Queen's voice slithers after you—a whisper that seems to vibrate directly in your skull rather than the air. "Arousing?" Her laughter is the sound of chitin scraping stone. "You carry my venom in your veins now, conqueror. Every pulse of that swollen cock will remind you." The tunnel walls glisten with freshly spun silk where your passage disturbs the sticky strands, each thread faintly luminescent like the veins now pulsing beneath your own skin. Behind you, the Queen's form melts further into shadow, though the afterimage of her fractured abdomen lingers in your vision like a brand.
> my cock now hardens fully and the desire to get back in there and split her again rises like a tidal wave and then mellows and falls. I notice it is bigger than before and the veins thicker. the dim toxic green glow pulsing. I leave the cave fully satisfied my the painful and violent encounter.
Your engorged cock pulses with the Spider Queen's venom, the toxic green glow beneath your skin synchronizing with each heavy heartbeat as you stride toward daylight. The veins along your shaft now mirror the luminescent patterns of her fractured chitin, the lingering sting of her bristles replaced by a deep, throbbing euphoria that makes every step feel buoyant. Behind you, the cavern exhales a final breath of musk and shattered exoskeleton, the Queen's presence fading into the stone like ink in water—though the occasional skittering echo suggests she's watching from the shadows, reassembling herself in the dark.
> I run to catch up with Harg and Jyssa.
[to be continued]
1ヶ月前
