The web around him thrummed like a living drum, every strand pulsing faintly as if it carried the heartbeat of something vast and terrible. His breath came in ragged pulls through the sticky gag, every gasp filling his lungs with the heavy musk of venom and sex. Allen could barely twitch now. The silk clung to his skin like a second flesh, sticky and warm, binding his arms tight above his head and pinning his legs apart, splayed like an offering. His cock stood like an altar pillar, still swollen, slick, throbbing violently in the web's grip as though it had its own pulse.

They hadn't left. They never left. They circled him in waves, their voices a constant hiss of praise and hunger, their bodies glistening in the phosphorescent glow that bled from the walls. The first one climbed onto him before he could draw another shuddering breath—her mandibles brushing his cheek, her eight legs curling and locking around him in a cage of flesh and chitin. Her breasts dangled just above his face, sweat-beaded, and when she sank down on his cock, it was with a guttural moan that vibrated through his bones.

"Still hard," she purred, hips grinding like a beast in heat. "Even now… you're ours."

The web creaked as she rode him, every wet thrust a sick rhythm, schlick, schlick, schlick, mixing with the guttural click of her throat. Silk threads quivered overhead, and then another shadow descended—a second spider-woman, her tongue dragging over his chest, leaving trails of venom that burned and tingled like fire racing under his skin.

He tried to jerk his head, but the gag held firm. Drool slipped past the silk binding his mouth, dripping down his cheek, and she laughed softly, kissing the corner of his lips through the strands. "So sweet," she whispered, and pushed two sticky fingers past the gag until they scraped his tongue. "Drink…"

He gagged, choked, but the venom soaked into him anyway, flooding his veins with molten heat. His cock twitched violently inside the first spider, spilling a gush of precum that made her shiver and clench. Her claws dug shallow furrows down his thighs, the sting of pain snapping like lightning, blending with the roar of pleasure until Allen didn't know which way was up.

The next joined without warning. He felt her at his face, the sticky heat of her cunt pressing against the gag, smearing his mouth with wet, musky slime. She gripped the silk and dragged it tighter against his lips as she ground down, moaning low and animal, soaking his face in her lust. Allen's muffled cry melted into a wet glrk-glrk as her nectar ran past his tongue and down his throat. He swallowed because he couldn't not—because he couldn't breathe.

They were a frenzy now. The web shook with their movement, legs tapping and scraping in a fevered rhythm. Another one mounted his chest, her breasts smothering his face between thrusts, nails raking his skin in sharp trails that welled with heat. The air grew hotter, thicker, like a jungle nest dripping with sap. Venom kissed every wound, sealing pain with something worse—something that made his muscles twitch and his cock swell until it felt like it might split.

He felt the cocoon forming even as they fucked him raw. Thin strands looped around his arms, his throat, his legs, tightening with every thrust of their hips. One of them leaned close, her voice a silken hiss in his ear. "Weave him pretty," she crooned, fangs grazing his neck. "Pretty and tight. He won't break… yet."

The bindings crawled higher, knitting with obscene patience while the storm raged. His torso vanished under gauzy white, his chest heaving beneath a shroud that smelled like nectar and death. His hips still bucked weakly, pumping into any heat that slammed down on him, and there was always another—always another wet, greedy cunt sliding onto his cock, milking him until his vision burst with stars.

The Queen came last. He knew her before he saw her—the way the web stilled, the way the others froze mid-ride, their bodies trembling as they pulled back, leaving him gasping and soaked. Silence stretched thin, humming with dread. Then she descended.

Massive. Terrible. Beautiful in the way an eclipse is beautiful—blinding and black. Her legs spanned the web like pillars, her abdomen a gleaming obsidian swell streaked with crimson. When she bent toward him, her face was a mask of alien grace, eyes glimmering like pools of venom.

"My little prize," she whispered, her voice low and liquid, curling in his mind. Her hand—soft, too soft—brushed his jaw, peeling away the gag with a snap of silk. He coughed, spit trailing down his chin, chest heaving for air.

"Please…" It rasped out before he could stop it, raw and ruined.

The Queen smiled. "Please what?"

His cock twitched in answer, still hard, still drooling thick ropes of precum despite the agony clawing through him. She saw it. She laughed—soft and cold—and her fingers closed around the shaft, stroking once, twice, in a grip that felt like fire and silk fused together.

"You've given my daughters such joy," she murmured, crawling forward until her weight pinned him like an avalanche. Her cunt hovered over his cock, dripping venom-slick honey that pattered onto his bound stomach in molten beads. "Now you'll give me everything."

He tried to shake his head, but the silk held, and then she sank down.

It wasn't sex—it was consumption. Her walls closed on him like the web itself, a crushing, molten vice that milked and writhed and pulsed with an intelligence older than sin. Allen screamed, the sound ripping his throat raw, and she swallowed it with a kiss, her tongue spearing deep, flooding his mouth with venom until his scream broke into gurgles.

His hips jerked helplessly as she rode him—not fast, but endless, her movements a slow grind that rewired his nerves one stroke at a time. His vision fractured, stars melting into webs, webs melting into her eyes. The cocoon climbed his throat now, brushing his jaw, sealing him in as his seed burst in brutal, mind-shredding waves, each spurt sucked greedily into her furnace.

"Yes…" The word dripped from her fangs, a hiss that stroked his brain. "Empty for me. Drain for your Queen."

And he did. Again. And again. Until his body was nothing but silk and tremors and the sweet, choking heat of venom. Until the web hummed like a lullaby, and the last thing he saw was her smile—before the cocoon sealed over his eyes and the world went white.

The last of the priestesses peeled herself off his cock, thick ropes of cum webbing between his twitching length and her drenched slit. Allen sagged forward, chest heaving, sweat rolling down his ribs in rivulets. Every nerve screamed in exhaustion, yet the cruel venom boiling in his blood kept his shaft iron-hard, throbbing like it was begging for more abuse.

He didn't get a moment.

The silk cocoon cradling his back tightened again, constricting around his ribs like the loving embrace of a predator. Sticky strands coiled higher, wrapping his shoulders, weaving up his arms until they were pinned tight against his sides. He grunted, tried to pull, but the tension only grew worse—the more he fought, the more the web sang with tremors, like the whole hive was listening.

A shiver slithered through the air. Eight legs clacked above him. Shadows shifted.

"You're not finished, pretty prey," a voice hissed—low, syrupy, dripping sin. Then a warm hand cupped his jaw, forcing his head back. Scarlet eyes gleamed down at him. It was her. The broodmother. The one who had been watching. Waiting.

Up close, she was colossal. A body like molten obsidian and midnight silk, eight glistening limbs spread wide across the webbed chamber. Her upper half was devastating—curves that could break reason, pale skin veined faintly with violet, breasts heavy and perfect, the tips beaded with nectar. But her lower half was nightmare made flesh—a sleek arachnid thorax rippling with power, spinnerets twitching, leaking strands that glowed faintly in the dim light.

Allen's breath hitched. His cock pulsed violently, betraying him, throbbing like it recognized its new owner.

The broodmother purred, a sound that vibrated through the web and his bones alike. "You've kept my daughters busy," she whispered, dragging a claw-tipped finger down his sternum, carving a shallow line that welled with red. "But now you belong to me."

Without warning, she leaned down and kissed him. Not a tender kiss—this was venom and heat and dominance, her tongue spearing his mouth, flooding him with another surge of molten fire that made his hips jerk helplessly. His cock slapped against his stomach, smearing slick precum across his abs.

"Gghh—" His moan choked as she wound a strand of silk around his throat, not tight enough to cut air but enough to make every gulp a humiliating struggle.

She broke the kiss with a soft laugh and then—slowly, deliberately—descended. Her weight sank onto his thighs, forcing them apart until his hips ached. Her many eyes glinted like jewels as she stared at the swollen length straining against the sticky bindings around his legs.

"Beautiful," she crooned, stroking a claw along his cock, making him shudder violently. "Thick. Veiny. So eager to paint my womb…"

Allen tried to speak, but the gag of silk muffled it into a pitiful moan. She liked that. Gods, she liked it so much that her slit gushed nectar in long strings, dripping onto his stomach, scalding-hot and sweet-smelling.

Then she impaled herself.

No warning. No tease. Just her molten, clutching heat swallowing him whole in one brutal thrust that tore a scream from his throat. The sound vibrated through the gag, pathetic and delicious. Her cunt was an inferno—so tight, so wet, her inner walls rippling like they were alive, milking him greedily before he even came.

"Yessss…" The broodmother's head tipped back, silken hair cascading like a shadowed waterfall as she moaned, her voice echoing through the nest. "Spread me, little human. Fill me until you break."

Allen bucked without meaning to. His body wasn't his anymore—venom turned every thrust into mindless rutting, his hips pistoning upward as her massive body crashed down again and again. The wet sounds were obscene—schlk! squelch! thwap-thwap!—each one loud enough to drown the faint whimpers of exhausted priestesses still writhing on the web below.

Her claws raked his chest, scoring shallow cuts that bled only for her to smear it across her breasts like war paint. She rode harder, faster, her thorax trembling, spinnerets spitting strands that wrapped his legs tighter until he couldn't move an inch except to thrust into her like a perfect, helpless toy.

Allen's vision swam. Every nerve was white-hot. His balls drew tight, a warning he couldn't control. He tried to hold back—some instinct screaming not to give her everything—but the broodmother bent low, lips brushing his ear, and hissed, "Flood me."

That was it. His body shattered, cock jerking violently as he erupted inside her with a guttural groan, the sound muffled by silk but still raw with surrender. Hot cum gushed in torrents, and she took it all, grinding down so hard the web beneath them quivered like a drum.

She didn't stop.

"Ohhh, sweet nectar," she moaned, shivering as his seed filled her. "Again."

Allen tried to protest, but another hit of venom burned through his veins like liquid lightning. His cock—still buried inside her—stayed hard, pulsing even as it leaked more cum. She began to move again, slower this time, squeezing him with those impossibly strong walls, milking every drop while teasing the next climax from his ruined body.

Around them, the other priestesses stirred, panting, their eyes glowing faintly now—corruption spreading like a fever. They crawled closer, stroking his legs, his chest, licking sweat and blood from his skin while the broodmother claimed him.

"You're not prey anymore," the broodmother whispered, her voice silk and sin, as she slammed down hard enough to make him see stars. "You're ours."

And as the web tightened, as more silk coiled and crawled over his skin like living threads, Allen understood the truth.

He wasn't leaving this nest.

Not tonight.

Not ever.