The darkness was warm.

Not the empty void of rest, but a living heat, pulsing against his skin, crawling through his blood with every sluggish beat of his heart. The cocoon held him like a lover—tight, suffocating, silk hardened to something almost flesh-like. It flexed when he breathed, squeezing just enough to remind him he belonged to it now. Every gasp was stolen through a hole slick with resin that tasted faintly sweet, dripping down his lips like nectar.

His limbs didn't move. He tried once—thought about pulling, thought about screaming—but the thought melted before it reached his muscles. The venom made sure of that. It had seeped so deep there was no line between him and the nest anymore. His veins sang with it, glowing under his skin like faint molten threads, every surge of heat running straight to his cock. That traitorous thing twitched even now, swelling against the resin sheath that cradled it, held it stiff like an offering.

Voices slipped through the silk in soft murmurs, like whispers curling in from the bottom of a dream. He felt them before he saw them—the vibrations first, the hum of many limbs gliding across the walls, each step shivering through the cocoon until it felt like the world was crawling over him.

A sharp slice of light bled through as something peeled the resin near his hips. It wasn't enough to free him—just enough to expose what they wanted. Cool air kissed his swollen cock, and then warm breath washed over it, followed by a slick tongue tracing up the length with obscene slowness. His gagged moan came out as a pitiful hum, swallowed by silk, and the voices crooned with delight.

"Ohhh, he's still leaking for us," one purred, her tone sugar-sweet and cruel. "Good boy. Keep that up. You'll need it."

Fingers followed the tongue—thin, claw-tipped, stroking along his shaft with care that felt almost tender until they squeezed too tight, just to make him jerk. A giggle answered the twitch, then another mouth joined the first, latching onto the head and sucking so hard his vision flared white behind closed lids. He thrashed as much as the cocoon allowed—a twitch, a tremor—but the silk pulsed tighter for it, hugging him deeper into submission.

The venom didn't let him go soft. It never did. The heat roared back like a furnace, making his cock strain until it hurt, until every lick and suck made stars explode behind his eyes. They knew it, too. They teased him with lazy strokes, mouths trading places, tongues curling around the base, sucking his balls until they ached like ripe fruit ready to split. His hips tried to buck. The cocoon laughed at the attempt and squeezed his waist until his ribs popped soft inside his chest.

"Mm… he's close again," a low voice hummed, vibrating through the silk near his ear. "Let him. We'll take the first offering while he's weak."

The warmth disappeared for half a breath, and then something hotter, slicker, and alive slid down over him. The grip was brutal, sucking him inside inch by inch until his cock vanished in a sheath of molten velvet. The sound—SHLUUUK—ripped through his skull. He screamed, but the gag smothered it into a broken sob as her walls clenched, milking, rolling, dragging him in so deep he swore she could pull the soul out of him.

The ride was savage from the start. No rhythm, no grace—just a frenzy of hips crashing down, wet flesh clapping so hard the cocoon vibrated. Every thrust shoved his spine deeper into the resin, every slam punched another grunt from his chest. He came fast—too fast—seed boiling out in thick, molten ropes that filled her to spilling. But she didn't stop. She didn't even slow. She shrieked like a beast in heat and pounded harder, claws scraping sparks against the hardened silk as if she could tear the world open just to keep him inside.

He was still coming when another joined her. He felt the drag, the squeeze as the first one lifted off with a gush that spilled down his cock, only for another heat to swallow him whole. She sank slow at first, savoring the tremor in his muscles, then snapped her hips so hard his vision blanked out. Her laugh curled through the venom fog in his head as she slammed again and again, chanting his worth like a mantra—Good. Good. Good breeder.

The taste hit his tongue before he realized they'd peeled the silk from his mouth. A gush of nectar poured down his throat, bitter and sweet, hands gripping his jaw until he swallowed it all. Another pressed swollen lips to his mouth, forcing a kiss laced with venom that numbed his teeth and sent fire roaring to his cock again. He moaned into her mouth, and she laughed, grinding her clit against his face until she broke in a flood that smeared his chin and dripped down his throat.

And then the laying began.

He felt it when the first one froze, hips shuddering around him, her walls spasming with a new rhythm. Something soft, warm, and alive pressed against his shaft, then slid past it, deeper inside her while he was still buried in her clutch. The egg. Thick. Heavy. Forcing her open as it crawled down and dropped with a wet sound that made them all moan. Her head rolled back, her claws carving gouges in the cocoon as she birthed the first one around him, milking him with convulsions so violent it hurt.

More followed. Another spider-woman climbed over the first, slamming down on him while the previous one still twitched, their fluids mixing into a syrupy mess that coated his thighs. The heat never stopped. The weight of bodies piled on him, their limbs tangling, claws scraping sparks across resin as they fought for turns. Some didn't wait—they rubbed their slick sexes against his stomach, his ribs, even his face, smearing him in their hunger while his cock stayed trapped in an endless vise of dripping heat.

Time bled out. There was only pulse—pulse of the venom, pulse of the silk, pulse of his cock jerking as orgasm after orgasm ripped through him until he forgot what release even meant. His seed leaked without force now, a steady ooze they lapped like honey, tongues curling over his slit between thrusts. His hips burned. His throat burned. His mind—gone. Melted into the hive-song of voices chanting through the dark: Breed. Drink. Bind.

The silk crept higher with every climax, spinning thicker over his shoulders, his throat, his jaw until only his mouth stayed free. They didn't cover that. They needed it. Nectar poured in waves down his tongue, drugging him deeper, dragging him under while their laughter blurred into something almost tender.

The last thing he saw before the final veil slid over his eyes was the queen again, crouched low, her abdomen glistening with slick and power. She stroked his cheek with a claw, leaned close enough for her breath to fog his lips, and whispered like a vow:

"Sleep now, broodmaker. When you wake, you'll be more than prey. You'll be the heart of this nest."

And as the cocoon sealed, locking him in heat and silk and the faint throb of eggs pressing close against his legs, he sank into the venom's dark cradle—dreaming of nothing but wet mouths, slick walls, and the endless, merciless rhythm of breeding.