Smut

A looming spider, a horrid beast! Its chelicerae drip with purple-gold venom; it picks its way through the world on claws as sharp as needles! With each step its swollen abdomen dips to touch the ground; the air shivers before its mass. What a fate, to encounter such a monster! And yet— Its pedipalps hang thick with bells, each of a different size, each carefully tied to the rough hairs that coat those waving appendages; more bells adorn its legs. Some dangle from silken thread and some are held by rings which pierce through the beast’s chitin. ...

Light falls across the couch in thick golden beams, filtering in through dusty windows thrown open to catch the setting sun’s warm breeze; there’s dust in the air, and smoke, and the thick musky scent of slowly drying sweat. When you first got here the smoke was the woody stink of distant fires, but now it’s just good clean weed and and the strangely layered perfume of vaped DMT. The world doesn’t feel real, hasn’t for a long time; reality trickles away with each breath you take and each time your friend passes you the blunt. She’s the only person you really know here, the only reason you were invited; usually you’d feel awkward, but everyone’s so hazy and high and the couch really is so comfortable … ...

“Please, mistress,” she begs in a tiny trembling voice entirely unlike her usual confidence, “please give me a taste, a drop! I’m so hungry …” She’s so cute kneeling: perfectly still save for her pleading eyes and panting mouth, her fangs sliding in and out. Vampires get so cute and needy when they’re not able to feed, and you’ve trained her so very well—she’d stay like this for weeks if you demanded it of her, and the frenzy at the end would be more than worth it … ...

Her hand on your cheek as she guides you down, careful to keep her claws just away from your skin. You’re so close to her, lost in the heat of her body and the smell of her delicious spicy musk. It’s almost too much as you settle onto your knees and look up at her, at the marbled purple and red of her body and the ample fullness of her breasts and the horns curling from her head far above; she’s so large, so strong. She could break you without even trying, and the thought of that always makes your heart quiver and your cheeks burn. ...

Warm slime puddles thickly around your legs as you kneel before her, as her body emerges from all the tiny cracks in the walls where she’d hidden herself all, welling up from the gaps in the courtyard’s paving stones and the shadows beneath rocks. A tiny piece of her even emerges from the tight tie holding your hair back, leaving a warm trail down the small of your back as it descends to return to its proper home. ...

Notes: I wrote this back in ‘17 and haven’t rewritten or substantially edited it since. It’s heavily inspired by the stories “drip” and “vending machine woman” in Trashgasm #2, if you’ve read that. The date on this piece is not reflective of when I posted it anywhere or even when I wrote it; it simply feels appropriate to claim that I wrote it one year after beginning my transition. It’s late in the day when I finally remember to eat. Busy, busy, busy, and I can feel the emptiness in my account. My last meal didn’t last as long as it should have. Shouldn’t have expected anything else from a street vendor. ...