Monday, August 1, 2016

Spider Romance Microfiction Week Four!

by Betty Rocksteady
Hey my darlings! Here we are, at the last week of the spider romance lineup, and like, I couldn't be happier with how this has gone. We've gotten a little bit of everything over this last month together - all told, we've had 39 spider microfiction stories to read! That's pretty amazing!

This week, we have some stunningly beautiful haiku from Joesph Bouthiette Jr. (who informs me that he will not accept a prize), an epic mythological tale from Matt Neputin, and a longer-than-usual erotic story from J.K. de Carcosa that seriously gives Arachnophile a run for its money. 

My favorite story this week is the beautiful IT'S OKAY by Ivana Milakovic. She can pick an NBAS ebook of her choice! 

I also want to mention that two people have the rather dubious honor of having participated in EVERY week of this challenge - Lee Forman and Kevin Strange. What a couple of weirdos. For being fabulous and gross and weird, I'm gonna let them each pick a print from my redbubble shop

Okay! Wow! Thanks so much for playing everyone!!!

By Leigham Shardlow

They came from space. I know fifties sci-fi cliche in a goddamn nutshell but my younger brother swears that one fell out of the sky over by Ogenville two towns over. I thought it was some mad science experiment, but he's a trusted source, he once said that he found a dead body by the lake and the next day the doctors diagnosed him with a virus only found on dead bodies. Fact checked that shit on google as well because my brother also says you can't trust doctors a hundred percent. Something about some shit soap opera he watched on tv once. 

Anyway, giant fucking spiders with sexy girls heads. Not like Charlie's Angels levels here but close, darn close. Well they were here one day and most of them died from the army. Explosions and fucking machine guns win everytime. A few people got eaten sure but it was worth it to see these huge spider creatures crash and burn. Boom! Smash! People screaming, so fucking cool. Let me tell you I spent hours watching the attacks on youtube for months afterwards. 

Well they rounded up a few of the runts they didn't turn into swiss cheese and they are in some fucking zoo in China or whatever. Costs a fortune to go see them probably, I saw them for free man.
They missed one though, some mutant. It had a sexy human body but a spiders head you know? I mean I suppose you do if you're reading this but whatever.

I saw it a bit too late to be honest, I was listening to some kick ass thrash metal on my phone, Mordred I think they kick ass. So it had snuck up on me then It had grabbed me and I was all like
"Oh fuck!". Legit going to admit I was scared, I didn't piss myself or anything though. Not a fucking total pussy.

It just looked at me for ages then like in a sweetest voice of maybe Lucy Liu, she was like "You're cute, I love you. I'll call you Mr. Wriggles."

Then she shoved me up her gigantic cooter. It fucking stunk man. Like worse than cat sick dude and I fucking hate cat sick. It was dark as balls, this like gunk washed over me and I totally ralphed my McDonalds up. The more I struggled the faster she plunged me inside her. Then the walls like suddenly got fucking tight as shit. I made this huge spider bitch cum. I almost drowned on her cum.

When things got loose she pushed me in further with two fingers and now I'm fucking left me in here.
My phone survived but it's about to die. If anyone finds this and my corpse can you tell my brother that I totally gave a giant spider babe head and was deep inside her. Shit was so cash.

Thanks Tommy.

Leigham does not have a little self written book entitled "weird porn ideas to wank to". Please stop asking.

By J.E. Housdan

I stumble over what I think are rocks, all but blind in the darkness of the cave.  Wisps of web, soft as butterfly wings, caress my face as I blunder about.  Tears slip down my cheeks as I wonder at the beauty I must be destroying in my rambling.  I know she is watching me from somewhere, even in the dark I can feel her many eyed gaze on me. 

How did I get so lucky?  I can't explain how my heart leapt with joy when my number was called and I couldn't wait to leave.  They give the winners a week to say goodbye and settle their affairs but I've been ready for a couple years now.  I knew it was meant to be I'm just surprised it took this long. 

She speaks to me you see.  Ever since that fateful night I saw her emerge from her cave she has called to me and oh how I have loved her.  It been a constant struggle not to run into her many legged embrace but that is not how things are done.  You have to wait for your number to be drawn, you must wait your turn.  But oh how she dances in my head, even now, her sleek black body gleaming in the moonlight.

I hear a soft clattering behind me and I know my love is approaching.  Arms outstretched I feel the weight of her as she descends on a gossamer strand and her many jointed legs envelope my body.  

My heart hammers in my chest, not with fear but joy, as I feel her fangs pierce my flesh.  As the poison flows, numbing my limbs, she begins to wrap me in her silk.  "I love you, take everything I have to give" I say as I fade into a darkness that shines like the moonlight on her lovely body.

J. E. Housdan is a lover of bizarre, splatter punk horror, cheesy B movies, and cats. He lives in Arkansas with his love, a cat named Abigale, and dreams of being a writer.

by Ivana Milakovic

The first time when I saw him, I was petrified.

I really, seriously... Well, not exactly hate, but dislike spiders. And this one was huge, on the wall right next to my head.

Then he spoke, and I realized that he was a she.

"Relax," the spider said. "I have no intention to force you to mate with me, or anything like that."


"Well, unless you want to mate with me, but then it wouldn't be forcing you, would it? Not that I have any idea how to actually do it with a human, but..."

"I don't want to," I blurted out.

"That's okay," the spider said.

"With anyone. Ever."

"That's okay, too," the spider answered softly.

It was the first time someone said that to me.


She made herself at home, and I realized I didn't mind having her around. Mostly she was just there, weaving her web, improving it, and waiting for the food to fly straight into it.

Sometimes she talked to me. There was a lot of anger in her. It was a relief to hear someone speak about the anger I felt.

"It's biology, they say. You have to mate with us. We come to you during that time, and you have to.
That's the way it is." She grinned. Don asked how I knew that a spider grinned. I just did. "Well, it's also biology when I eat them afterwards. And when I eat the little ones, if the little fuckers I never wanted in my life or in my web don't run away fast enough."

"Don't you love them?"

"The males or the little ones?"

"Either. Both."

"There was never a male I loved or wanted. A few females, yes, but no males. And I didn't love the little ones, either. Never wanted them."

"Did you hate them?"

"No. I just wanted them to leave me alone. Those who did are just fine."

"That's how I felt, about my... Little one. And everyone called me a monster. I never hurt her, I took
care of her, but I didn't love her."

"You're not a monster. We don't always love the little ones. That's okay."

It was the first time someone told me that, too.


For a while, it was just the two of us, and an occasional lady friend of hers coming to visit.

Then, some of her lady friends asked if they could stay. I said yes. I knew that she would like them to stay, there's plenty of room for everyone, and they keep the pests away.

And we talk. And I'm okay. We're all okay.

I wonder if I'm turning into a crazy spider lady.

It would be okay, too. 

Ivana Milakovic lives in Belgrade, Serbia, with the love of her life, and mostly writes short stories (horror, fantasy, fairy tales retold) and video scripts. She's the author of a short story collection "Macji snovi" (it means "Cat Dreams"). She enjoys historical fencing, attempts to befriend every cat she sees, and occasionally blogs at

by Lee A. Forman

Ron wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked up to 59 Hanford Street. He pulled the mail from his bag and went to place it in the mailbox when he noticed a note taped to the lid.

Dear postal worker:

I’m sorry to ask, but there’s a horrible spider inside the mailbox and I can’t get my mail! Can you please take care of it for me? I’d really appreciate it!


He carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. Yesterday’s mail was still there. He jerked his hand back when he saw the web. Ron hated spiders.

He took a deep breath and opened the lid again. I’ve got to deliver the damn mail— snow, rain, heat, and even spiders.

Slowly, he reached in to pull out the letters and junk mail. He froze when the tiny black creature crawled up his hand.

“Sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help notice how handsome you are.”

Ron’s mouth hung open. The fucking spider did not just talk to you. It’s the heat. Yeah, it’s just the heat fucking with you.

“You look like no one’s ever complimented you before,” the spider said.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just that… Spiders don’t talk!”

“Well I’m a spider, and I’m talking to you. Because you’re hot stuff. How about you and I go somewhere dark and damp, chat for a while.”

He didn’t know how to respond. Am I losing my mind?

“Listen, babe. How about just one date? Let me make a good first impression. My name’s Rachel.”

“Okay. I guess so. I mean, this is really weird though.”

“Don’t worry, one night with me you’ll forget all about how weird it is.”

A week later he took Rachel to work. She crawled down his hand before he put the mail in each box and laid her eggs between the bills and credit card offers. Every house got their share.

After all, Ron always wanted children. Lots of them.

Lee Forman is a fiction writer from the Hudson Valley, NY. For more information go to

by Kevin Strange

Steve's fingers ripped open as the claw and tarsus of four hairy legs broke through the skin, spraying blood and bits of torn flesh across the bathroom. He screamed out in abject horror as the metatarsus, tibia, patella, and femur of those same four legs grew exponentially from inside his body and cracked and splintered his forearm.

He bit through his tongue when the same thing happened on the other side. Blood gushed as the thick muscle plopped out of his mouth and into the drain of the sink. Soon his teeth followed suit, clanking into the porcelain basin one after another as a pair of curved fangs protruded from his cracked and bloody lips. He felt the pedipalp burrow through holes in his cheeks as his esophagus crumbled to make way for the poison gland and digestive tube.

A moment later, his head cracked open like an egg, sending the remaining bits of humanity, his eyeballs, brain and related organs sliding into the basin like the ingredients of a nice omelet, making way for the complete cephalothorax to emerge.

Steve never intended to turn into a giant spider. Steve just wanted to get laid.

It all started with a blowjob.

Steve met a very nice, very sexy girl named Sharron while cruising for sex on the internet. Sharron was into fucked up shit. Luckily, so was Steve.

Sharron liked to blow random guys while on the phone with her husband, some guy named Evan. It was a game they played. Sharron would call him up when she had a nice big dick in her mouth and
 Evan would pretend he didn't know what was going on.

Kinky shit. Weird shit. Steve didn't care because Steve got his dick sucked and that's all that mattered to him as it pertained to Sharron and Evan.

They met up at a hotel and did this a few times with no issues. Then Sharron took an apparent liking to the above average length and girth of Steve's cock, and they started seeing each other outside of Sharron and Evan's kinky phone escapades.

Sharron didn't only enjoy sucking cock on the phone with her husband. She also enjoyed sucking cock in public.

Which is what lead them into the seedy after hours district downtown one night after Sharron had tucked Evan into bed.

“I wanna do it in here,” Sharron said, pointing to a tiny store front between a massage parlor and a tobacco pipe shop.

“Drusilla's potions and more?” Steve asked, looking at the dubious, hand scrawled sign hanging from above the door.


Steve was in no position to complain about where Sharron wanted to suck his dick, so he held the door open and smiled, allowing his lady friend to step inside.

It was right before he came in Sharron's mouth that it happened.

“What in five hells are you doing back there?”


They'd found a quiet corner out of eye-shot from the front counter where the shelves were high.

Usually Sharron could work Steve's shaft and balls to orgasm in under four minutes. They'd timed it.
But apparently that was too long for Drusilla and she'd come snooping to see what her customers were up to while Sharron was corkscrewing Steve's cock with both hands and sucking on his left nut.

This startled her, causing her to choke and bite down, which startled Steve, causing him to jerk back against the shelf behind him. Sharron yelped and stood up, putting her tits away as two jars from the top shelf fell past Steve's head and shattered on the floor.

“By all that is holy and sacred get outta my shop!” Drusilla yelled, pulling her black shroud around her shoulders in revulsion. Her eastern European accept was so thick, she sounded like the bride of Dracula.

Kind of looks like a vampire, too, Steve thought as he yanked up his pants and scurried out of the shop behind Sharron. She was young and pale with striking features. Beautiful even pissed off. He chanced a look back as he burst into a giggle fit, hoping to catch a glimpse of her ass.

What he saw instead was a knife in her hand, stabbing into a huge spider she'd picked up from the shattered jar on the floor.

“I curse you, pervert! I curse you for all time!”

“Steve? You ok in there?” Sharron asked from the hotel room bed. “I'm getting kinda hungry. You wanna go out for a bite to eat?”

In the bathroom, Steve stepped over the slimy remains of his human skin. He was hungry. In fact, he was starving.

Kevin Strange doesn't really jack off to spiders. He writes books at, which is kind of like the artistic equivalent of jacking off to spiders. Or not that at all, actually.

By Matt Neputin

The door to the temple opened and I saw the statue for the first time: A spider with breasts looking down upon me. I was to become its eternal guardian. I looked around the temple; it was almost completely dark other than the small hole that shined light on top of the statue, through which the food dripped in, allowing me to survive. This light would change from bright gold to glowing pale silver. When the light was golden, ripe mashed bananas, peel and all, were shoved through the hole and plopped in front of me. This was the only way I could keep track of time.

After 60 cycles, I've decorated the statue with moldy banana peels. This attracted the flies. I spent hours catching as many as I could. When I had enough, I scraped the foul paste into the spider’s mouth; She seemed…grateful. I talked to her for hours as I caught flies.

Twenty more cycles passed, the flies multiplied faster than I could catch them, creating a thick, putrid, buzzing smog. I killed what I could and offered them to the altar. The thick miasma replaced the stagnant, moist air in the temple. I started praying to the spider icon to come back to life to rid the temple of this plague, begging her to claim her overwhelming bounty.

Innumerable cycles past before my prayers were answered. The stench of rotted bananas and flies attracted larger insects that binged on the miasma. When the air became breathable once more, I killed these larger pests quite easily as they lazily dined. I gathered them for the spider, and that was when the spider started talking to me. She told me I was very handsome, and that she wished to court me. At first I said that I was just a lonely servant, but she protested, and then insisted.

There was no light this cycle; it was pitch black. This happened from time to time when crusted bananas blocked the hole up. However tonight was different. The darkness lasted so long, I don’t know for how long or whether it was day or night. Time stood so, uncomfortably still...until I felt something prickly, narrow and long grazed up my back, almost like I was being…caressed. It felt almost like an elongated hand, but it wasn’t human…another grazed up my inner thigh, another up my neck, another across my chest, another started pumping me hard, nearly ripping me raw. I couldn’t see, but it had to be her. She didn’t make a single sound, neither did I, but her hands were all the words we needed. I threw myself into those arms and made love to her.

Then the door opened. The light burned my eyes to the back of my skull. They said that I served my time. They wanted to separate me from my beloved. I had to kill them, to stay with my beloved. We feasted on the rotting corpses of the priests during our honeymoon.

Matt Neputin is a writer from Poland who currently runs a webcomic about porn addiction

By Joseph Bouthiette Jr.

chitin kisses, love
note webs, poison poetry,
a fang to suckle

an eight-lobed sex toy
pinches the puckered skin and
hangs from the ceiling

her ebon lacquer
semen in the hourglass
her ebon laughter

penetrating the
joints, fertilizing the eyes,
swallowing the eggs

flies kiss flies sigh flies
suck flies fuck flies moan flies sleep
flies kill flies eat flies

singing sweet nothings
(the language of extracted
innards): a ballad

candlelit dinner
in the dining room corner
with web, dust, and wine

tonguing a tongueless
maw, an absence of romance
in mating's designs

Joseph Bouthiette Jr. is co-editor of Carrion Blue 555 and Scrimshaw Obscura. His short fiction and poetry has appeared in Lost Signals, Mythos Fragments, and Journal of Experimental Fiction. He is an avid board gamer and poops several times a day.

by J K deCarcosa

Idly sitting and touching his flaccid penis, he flipped through the channels on the dilapidated old television, seeking some new stimulation. Excitement. Porn - vanilla, hardcore, gonzo, gay, young, old.. nothing held his interest for long, and he yearned to finally get off once more, Full erections a rarity, he masturbated every night and fell asleep unsatisfied. Tonight, he noticed it - a spider crawling on the arm of the couch. The spider's large, thick, glistening abdomen reflected the light of the television, gleaming as it stepped slowly, methodically, along.
Is the spider a male or female, he wondered. Does it have a vagina? A pussy? A... cunt? Do they have little fangs or swollen, soft lips?
As he thought about spider pussy, his flaccid stub started to stiffen and grow. He wondered... how would it feel? Fucking a spider? Could it even stretch around his girth? Would he feel eight scratchy legs limply twitching and brushing against his fully engorged shaft, or more? Finally hard, he smiled and moved closer to the spider. Wondering what would happen, he rested his cock directly in the spider's path.
She simply crawled over the fleshy obstruction, and he shuddered, feeling her legs upon his cock. It tickled. As she crawled, the flesh upon which she was traversing began to vibrate and shake. Losing her traction for just a moment, she slipped, abdomen falling and brushing against him, lightly brushing his cock before regaining her balance. He, saw her abdomen dip, imagined that she had done it intentionally. Rubbed her shiny little spider pussy across the head of his throbbing cock.
Did that spider just try to fuck me, he thought to himself, and cupped the spider with his other, gently transferring her back to the couch but blocked her from crawling away. Slowly, he lowered himself on top of her,  fingers curling around his now lubricated, glistening tip. Holding her still, he rubbed himself up against her abdomen. She gasped and shuddered realizing what she had climbed across, and what was now stroking her back.
*Was this human really trying to fuck her,* she thought to herself. *Should I plunge my fangs into his glans to teach a painful lesson?* Mandibles clicking, fang ichor dripping, she realized... her other ichor was starting to ooze from the swollen lips beneath her abdomen. Standing her ground, she thrusted back.
He felt it. Her spidery pussy, swollen, engorged, and growing. Fingers around his head, he stimulated himself and slid his shaft up and down her arachnid frame. Feeling the abdominal smoothness, the soft itchy poking of her jointed exoskeleton scraping against the pulsing vein that parallelled his fully erect, glistening shaft. He started to come and involuntarily moaned. Hearing this, despite her pain, the spider spread her lips as wide as she could and pushed back, breathing deeply. She stretched, cracking, but the sensation of being filled by this human's massive cock excited her so much that she no longer cared. He was inside now, in her pussy. She felt every bit of meat filling her as never before. Thrashing uncontrollably, her eyes rolled back as she let out a chittering squeal, clicking, screaming, twitching, groaning and moaning as she rocked on his cock.
Oh my god, he realized... he was fucking her. Cupping and fucking a spider. He thrusted, slowly at first, then harder, harder and faster until he felt himself coming. With one last thrust, he pushed hard, beginning to climax. Rush. Orgasm crashed down on him, and together they came. Transfixed in this moment of time, locked in sweating agony. Involuntarily, his hand closed tighter as he ground in and out of her.
Hallelujah. He peaked as his ecstasy mingled with her dying screams. She thrashed with little leg-twitching spider-gasms. Felt him in and out, his come shooting out until.. she burst. With the sickly sound of exoskeleton giving way, cracking, tearing, scratching, dying... he jerked wildly. Fucking the broken body of the dead spider. he felt her milk dripping around his cock. Finished, he wiped off with a smile. A cigarette-worthy, hard-earned smile.  He lay there, cigarette smoke swirling, and scanned the ceiling for cobwebs, cocoons, anything. Stiffening again, he decided to step out for a walk to catch the cool evening air and perhaps a pretty little thing to match his mood. Maybe an orb weaver. Imagining the size of its abdomen, he began earnestly masturbating until it hurt.
He noticed the head of his cock had become mottled, dark, not normal at all. He felt panic and trepidation, and wondered if his penis was going to shrivel up, if it was going to blacken and shrink to the size of a little spider dingus. He ran his hand over his ass, imagining it a giant spider abdomen, and began to finger his asshole. Remembering, he slid his finger into his puckered hole, wiggled it around, then pressed against his prostate. Moonlight reflected from his eyes and back, as he rode his finger in the night like his arachnid spider mistress had.
Then he realized.. the pain had changed. It bulged and moved, rippled under the taut skin of his erect cock. Then... the first one crawled out of his urethral hole. A live spider baby. A tiny little spider baby. Eyes wide with horror, he realized he had FUCKED A PREGNANT SPIDER and absorbed her egg sac into his dick. As the babies hatched, there was no holding back. He rubbed harder, mounting his hand, feeling them pop like bubble wrap. They twitched, burst, and died as he screamed and came with an earth-shattering orgasm.
He closed his eyes, squeezed out that last drop, and drifted. His heart spasmed as they continued to flow out, around him. Neurons exploded, body shaking, until it too lay gently in the night, covered in moonlit fibers of his new cocoon. The babies chittered, their hungers sated as they fed, and grew.., and grew.

A relative newcomer to the literary theatre of the absurd, J K deCarcosa assures us that - though our families may be salted and hanging in the ol' shed out back, jerky-fying.. we can still find happiness in the world today. Enjoy this creepy, crawlin' tale, and if you feel it scratch that itch until you can't scratch no more. Enjoy.

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