Vignette: Failing the Test

Posted by C on March 16, 2003 at 11:16:47:

I'm experimenting with shorter stories, a few pages at most--maybe more from fatigue than anything else. And yes, most will contain female victims. Input, as always, appreciated.

By C

Alboin had cleared every hurdle but one. The last test would be no more or less difficult than all the others. The penalty for failure would be no less grievous. The only difference now was that if he passed it, his ordeal was at an end, and the reward that had cost him so much effort was at last his. If he succeeded, he would have vastly augmented power as a captain in the Dark Lord's army of fays. And his lifespan! Male fays of his species had to give themselves to a predator after just a few seasons. But not if he passed. There could be no guarantee of course, but he might live for centuries.

He found himself in a vast white room: floor, walls, high ceiling, all a smooth, gleaming white. If there were doors, windows, or other apertures, they were invisible. A perfect uniformity–marred only by Alboin himself, a pretty blond fay with blue butterfly wings, blue shirt and briefs, and blue boots.

A soft female voice, one that he'd heard many times over the last several hours, began to speak from a point somewhere above his head. "Are you ready, dear?"

He stationed himself in the middle of the room. His feathered antennae began to point this way and that. His cock was stiff–a good sign that the adrenaline was flowing as it should. "Yes," he said.

"Very well," said the voice. "Good luck."

Just then, a whitish semi-liquid shot out from the wall behind him. One of his antennae detected it in time, and he leapt up into the air. It just missed him and splashed harmlessly on the floor. When he glanced down, it looked very much like spider-webbing.

Another burst of white, from in front of him, and he twisted to the side just in time. If he could only keep this up . . . .

A third burst, from above. He jerked frantically to one side. It missed his body, but some of it caught the edge of his right wing. He fell, landing on his knees with a sharp intake of breath.

He jumped up as quickly as he could. "I'm all right, I'm all . . . ."

"I'm sorry dear, it's over," said the voice.

"Wh-what do you mean? I'm fine . . . I'm . . . ."

"You know the rules dear. If there's a hit . . . ."

"But it didn't bring me down! I'm not caught! I'm not down!"

"It doesn't matter," said the voice, in the same calm tone it had used before. "Now, as the rules require, please take your briefs down, put your hands at your sides, and get back on your knees."

Alboin began to tremble violently, with fear and rage. Tears came to his eyes. His voice choked, but still he cried out: "No! I won't! I haven't lost yet . . . I haven't!"

There was a sigh, and the voice spoke again: "Very well, my dear." The wall before him fell away. Behind it was a huge female spider. "I can understand your reluctance," said the spider, with the same voice he had heard so many times already. "But it is over. You'll have to serve the Dark Lord now in a different way." And with that, she sprang at him.

Alboin shot up, but his right wing, still smeared with webbing, betrayed him. He couldn't get to a safe height in time, and her forelegs reached up and scooped him from the air. She brought him down, hard, on his back, and as he lay there stunned, she quickly used her silk to bind his arms to his sides. Then she took hold of his madly kicking legs and bound them together, at the knees and at the ankles.

"Not fair! Not fair!" he wailed.

There was now a subtle change in the atmosphere. Before, he had been incontestably indoors. Now a cool breeze, scented with spring flowers, touched his cheek. He looked up, just as the white walls and ceiling disappeared completely. He was outside, in a big green meadow. The noon sun was warm on his body. As he looked around him, he could see, here and there, the other boy fays who'd joined the contest with him. Every one of them had fallen to a spider.
All were bound, just like Alboin.

"No!" he cried. "I was better than they were . . . . Not fair!"

His captor didn't answer. Instead, she bent down over him, seized his briefs with her palps, and tugged them to his knees. The other spiders did the same with their prey. The breeze now carried the vinegary scent of a dozen stiff, caught pricks. Whatever noises they had made before, when their pants came down the boys just sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

"Do you agree now that it's over?" said the spider.

Still sobbing, Alboin nodded.

The spider then slipped her fangs into the soft flesh at the base of his scrotum. He screamed, as did the others, who were being pierced in the same way. He had thought his cock could not get any stiffer; but when she pumped in her venom, he learned how wrong he was. At first the spider's poison felt like fire, but the sharpest pain soon subsided, to be replaced by an itching ache that filled, first, his groin and then the rest of his body. Ready for would happen next, the spider fit her mouth parts around his cock. When he at last came, spurting a mix of hot blood and boy honey, he groaned aloud and thrust out with his feet. The spider sucked up every drop.

Alboin came so many times over the next half hour that he lost count of the number. There was a final, hard and hurtful burst of ejaculate (this one made him scream!). Then he just whimpered a few times and fell into a coma. Having gotten all the pouch-liquor that she could, the spider now increased the suction. Slowly, she used the boy's cock to drain his remaining fluids. Throughout the meadow, her sisters were emptying their victims.

When it was over, the spider spoke once more: "I'm sorry dear. You might have been good enough, but the Dark Lord doesn't have to settle for ‘might' or ‘maybe.'" The transparent shell (all that was left of Alboin) said nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Later, the spider reported back to a young fay captain.

"Not one?" he said, his disappointment obvious.

"Alas, it's true," the spider answered.

"What is it with the younger generation? I didn't have any trouble dodging you."

"I think you have a very creative memory," said the spider. "And don't forget: I may have you yet, if you displease the Master."

He turned brusquely away, but not before she saw him stiffen.