Book Excerpt for Xenofestation 4-02

Paragonas Vaunt

~SAMPLE~

At first she didn't realise she'd stumbled into some kind of cobweb. The strands were so fine and spaced so far apart that it felt of no more import than a moth's wing brushing over her skin. But by the time Ornella Mito realised what had happened her momentum had carried her forward an extra pace and the strands had multiplied around her calves, and thickened, and when she lifted her hand to brush the threads from her face she caught in a denser tangle of strands she couldn't see and hadn't realised were there.

Ornella stumbled, disoriented. She pitched suddenly forward, overbalancing, and next moment she found herself hanging suspended in a web of filaments so slender she could barely see them and so numerous she couldn't hope to untangle herself from them all.

She bobbed gently, hanging in mid-air, tipped forward at an angle of around forty-five degrees. Her bare feet were barely a few inches from the floor, but it may as well have been a mile for all Ornella could do to reach it.

In the shadows a dark shape moved, lowering itself from the roof of the tunnel behind her, and Ornella tried to turn her head, but myriad fine strands tugged at the skin of her cheeks, her forehead too, restricting her movements, and she couldn't make out anything more than the vague impression of a huge arachnoid body with a grossly swollen abdomen covered in thick dark hairs, of eight bristly legs, of two long fangs glittering in the dark.

Ornella felt the web sag to its weight.

Whatever creature it was, it was now climbing down behind her to squat over her back, its head facing downwards towards her bared buttocks.

Ornella pulled at the web, trying again to turn, trying again to see, failing.

"Don't struggle."

Lena's voice on the microbead made her jump, causing the web to sag and strum even more, though never quite enough to shake her down to make contact with the floor.

"It's trying to decide whether it needs to subdue you," Lena continued. "If you struggle too much it will bite you."

Ornella stopped moving.

The only sound she could hear in the tunnel was her own breathing.

The spider-creature's antennae brushed lightly over her bare buttocks, ticklish and teasing.

"Lena?" Ornella murmured under her breath. "What did you call this? A proto-what?"

"Protochelicerate," Lena replied. "It's like a giant spi-"

"Yeah, I kind of got what it's a giant like. But tell me quick - what happens if it bites me? Is it dangerous?"

"It can be very painful, and the effects can last several hours. Mainly it disrupts motor control-"

"Shh-shh-shh," Ornella hissed. "No need to tell me what it's like. Just as long as it won't kill me."

"It's not fatal, no."

Ornella took a preparatory breath.

Suddenly she jerked her body violently, shoving herself bodily at the creature's exploring antennae. Again, every time and everywhere it touched her bare skin. Forceful, aggressive, making the web leap and dance.

She felt the creature rear up.

There was an instant of breathless pause, among the longest few seconds of Ornella's life as she waited for its touch. Wherever it fell.

From the corner of her eye, Ornella saw the creature's head sweep down, fangs flashing, droplets of milky venom blowing into the air in the rush of its descent.

Twinned slender blades pierced the rounded curve of her buttock, driving deep in a breathless heartbeat of no more immediate pain than might come from a tiny, trivial scratch, before Ornella's flesh awoke in protest, her muscles twitching in a reflexive pre-tremor before the real pain hit, and then a heartbeat later she felt the protochelicerate's venom pump cold into muscle and sinew through pitiless, steel-sharp needles.

Fire sprang outwards from the bite, a dribbling, liquid fire that bloomed within Ornella's lower body, and she cried out, twitched again, and the fangs dug deeper, the venom infiltrating her flesh, making every cell tingle, itch, burn.

"Ornella?" came Lena's voice over the microbead. "Did you just deliberately make it bite you?"

"No gain without pain," Ornella tried to reply, but her mouth was already slushy and the words wouldn't come. Her body slackened, weakening, and Ornella slumped boneless within her gossamer hammock. She felt the fangs withdraw, slipping free of her, leaving a patch that felt throbby, swollen, the seat of a rolling wave of fire that left her entire body helpless and heated.

Lena said something else, but her words were distant, mere watery echoes of a voice.

Behind Ornella's back the creature rotated itself, its eight legs moving in a complicated arachnid ballet, and settled itself over her once more.

Something slimy and cool slipped between her slightly-parted thighs.

It was soft, wriggly, but as it searched for and discovered Ornella's slitted opening she felt it stiffen, smoothen, until it was a firm tube that slid assuredly and determinedly between the warm folds of her cunt.

Ornella groaned.

It was long, it was hard, it was all the way inside her in less time than it took to draw a single ragged breath. The protochelicerate crouched, wrapping its eight hairy legs around her body, its every touch an inflaming prickle, an itchy tease. And then, as Ornella Mito lay paralysed and prone beneath the creature's furry bulk, its ovipositor buried in her body to the hilt, it started to fill her womb with its eggs.

There were a lot of them.

Being suspended on the creature's web while it implanted her was a little, just a little, like getting fucked on a trampoline, something Ornella had tried a couple of times, even committed to posterity in her popular virtcast title Bouncy Trampoline Tramp. On the whole, fucking on a trampoline wasn't nearly as much fun as she'd made it look, and Ornella herself preferred a nice firm surface to push against.

But the protochelicerate had set up a strange boinging sort of rhythm with the back and forth movement of its bulky abdomen, first pushing her away, setting her swinging. And then, when she rebounded, it met her whole body weight with its own thrust, using all the stored elastic energy and mass of two adult bodies crashing into each other to thump one of its eggs through the tight mouth of her cervix.

And another. And another. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Push-release-rebound-thud-gasp-egg.

A whole clutch of inch-sized eggs, each one a smooth cool orb, and Ornella lay helpless as each one was pushed through the slackening, defeated barrier of her cervix.

At first she didn't realise when the first orgasm fell upon her, because her paralysed cunt didn't contract, didn't squeeze and pulse around the ovipositor that lay ensconced its full length, didn't clasp tight around the eggs being pumped one-by-one into her womb. All she could feel were the pulses of pleasure, rippling up and down the length of her channel, radiating outwards to merge with the throbbing beat of the venom coursing in her veins, making Ornella's whole body one united centre of pleasure and pain, a symphony of sinuous ecstasy, each orgasm merging with the next, until with hours past and dozens of eggs implanted and Ornella's slackened body still not tiring, her cunt still silently fizzing and frothing, she drooled out her incoherent passion onto the dark tunnel floor, while the protochelicerate filled her - its helpless prey - with all the eggs it could press into her. A whole clutch.

A clutch that turned out to be a lot bigger than she expected.