>Your friends say their goodbyes and leave as your little birthday get-together draws to a close
>Knowing that if you put off clean-up tonight, you'll be putting it off for the rest of the week, you begin bagging up the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes
>Your efforts at maintaining a tidy apartment are interrupted by a knock at the door
>You open the door and are greeted by the sight of your spidergirl neighbor, a small present in hand, rather odd given that you barely know her
>The most interaction you've ever had with her was when you brought her a plate of cookies after she first moved in. She brought the plate back promptly and was generally about as polite and distant as possible
>"Happy birthday"
>You accept the package with a bit of hesitation, the mirthful expression on her face unnerving you slightly
>"Open it"
>You begin delicately unwrapping the box. You feel awkward under her silent, unwavering gaze and try to break the silence
>"What did you get me?"
>God that was a dumb question. You'll probably know exactly what she got you before she can even open her mouth to answer you
>She grins, her teeth glittering at you under the light of the full moon
>"Rape"
>The gaiety in her voice is so genuine that it takes a full 5 seconds before your brain actually processes the ill intent behind her words. By that time  you've already pried the lid off the box and gotten a face full of Krazy Purple Knockout Gas (TM) for your trouble
 
>You awaken several hours later, looking down at a dimly lit living room from an improbably high angle
>Abruptly realizing how far off the ground you must be, you instinctively try to find something to hold on to, but find your arms restrained by a bundle of elastic threads. You're suspended in a large web in the corner of the room, cocooned from your feet up to your shoulders
>You force yourself to take a deep breath and calm down.
>You examine your surroundings, looking for an avenue of escape
>You're directly over a plush looking wraparound couch. The coffee table in front of it is covered in monstergirl-interest magazines bearing blurbs like "How to make it fit in your spinneret" and "Produce enough venom to last all night!"
>You're pretty sure you can see where this is headed
>There's a jumbled stack of DVDs next to the magazines. The cover of the one on top features a photo of a buxom spidergirl looming over a scantily clad human male
>Yeah. You know exactly where this is going.
>You anticipated something like this happening when she first moved in. In the days immediately following her arrival you browsed scores of monstergirl forums, inquiring as to the best way to fend off an aroused spidergirl.
>You desperately search your memories for what they had to say on the subject
>"Your resistance only makes our pussies tighter and wetter"
>Crap.
 
>Before you can think of a suitable curse to rain down on those unhelpful bastards you hear the bedroom door open
>Your neighbor enters. She has on a borderline transparent camisole, and, ridiculously, frill-cuffed silk stockings on all 8 of her legs
>"Let me apologize in advance for how rough I'm going to be with you"
>She closes in on you in a flurry of motion, her chitinous legs rattling on the tabletop as she climbs right over it and up the wall to bring her face dangerously close to yours
>She strokes your face with the back of her clawed hand, her gem-like array of eyes brimming with the smugness that comes from a perfectly executed plan
>Suddenly, she withdraws her hand and bites down on your neck, her fangs piercing your skin and flooding your veins with her venom, which your rapidly beating heart quickly carries throughout your body
>You have just enough time to wonder if you have anything in your closet with a high enough collar to hide the bite marks before the venom reaches your brain and redirects all your attention to the massive erection currently pressing painfully against your bonds
>Satisfied that your body is ready, she shimmies lower and drags a single knife-like digit across the silk around your torso, the threads splitting apart to expose your crotch
>Your rock-hard manhood bobs free as soon as the last of the threads holding it in place is cut
>"My, aren't we lively?"
>She reaches back and plucks a trial-sized bottle of "(Inter)Personal Lubricant" from the hem of one of her stockings and begins drizzling it over your length
>The shock of the cool liquid on your skin merely serves to intensify your chemically-induced arousal and you whimper with need as she finishes slicking your member
>She tosses the bottle aside and climbs back up to you, then past, bringing her glistening labia right in front of your face while your cockhead drags slowly across her glossy-smooth abdomen
>She hooks her pedipalps around your shoulders, pushing her dewy petals closer to your face and smothering you with the scent of her desire
>"Sorry that our first time is going to be with my spinneret, but I've wanted to try this for ages"
 
>She shifts slightly and you feel your glans poking at an entrance that seems far too small to accommodate your girth
>Before you can ask if this is really a good idea she thrusts her abdomen downward
>Her spinneret resists adamantly at first, but slowly, very slowly, it yields, the preternatural tightness bordering on uncomfortable
>She lets out a hissing breath as she finally hilts herself, trembling and fidgeting slightly as she tries to adjust to the foreign presence in her body
>You cant abide by that. The fire burning in your loins demands quenching.
>Using what little leverage your disadvantageous position offers, you attempt a thrust. She gasps in response, and her pedipalps tighten their grip, threatening to drown you in the torrent of sticky arousal pouring from her slit
>"Oh Yesyesyesyesyesyes....."
>She begins riding you as fast and as hard as she can, her frantic motions making the web you're trapped in bounce and sway so much that you fear it will break
>Instinct forces you to try and hold out, but the bizarre texture of her spinneret and the stickiness of her unspun silk as it sucks and clings to your cock prove irresistible
>Hoping to at least make her climax along with you, you run your tongue over her labia and then focus in on her clitoris
>She gasps and intensifies her efforts to rip the web off the ceiling
>Unable to contain yourself any longer, you coat the inside of her spinneret with your release, pumping gooey ropes of your seed into her until it overflows
>Her body tenses as the sensation of your hot semen flooding a place it wasn't meant to go brings about a torrential orgasm that soaks your face with slippery femcum
>She lies still for a moment, panting, then chuckles
>"Even tied up, you're a beast"
 
>An evil note creeps into her voice
>"But do you have endurance?"
>She slides back down, once again putting herself at eye level with you. Your cock, clad in unspun gossamer, pops free with a perverse sound
>She regards your sopping face with amusement
>"I really made a mess didn't I?"
>She leans in and unhesitantly starts lapping her own fluids from your face, slowly trailing down from your cheek toward your neck
>Uh oh
>The fangs come out again, delivering an even larger dose of venom. You're back to full mast before it even finishes circulating. God help you, you're actually starting to like being bitten.
>She wraps her arms around you, followed by her pedipalps. She rests her forehead against yours, her largest set of eyes faintly reflecting your own in the dim light
>You can already feel pre flowing from your prick, mixing with the rivulets of arousal dribbling from her cunt
>It seems there are no brakes on this train
 
>She guides you into her waiting snatch, her pedipalps slowly pulling your hips against her chitinous body, until your shaft is completely enveloped by her slimy warmth
>She closes her eyes and emits a quiet moan of pleasure as you slide home, then reopens them and whispers how wonderful it feels
>She builds her rhythm slowly, using her muscular pedipalps to drive your dick into her in long strokes, until the web is once again flexing and stretching dangerously
>You can feel her inner walls clench around you with increasing frequency as her pleasure grows, prompting your manhood to twitch in response each time
>She changes her posture slightly, freeing up her foremost pair of legs, which she promptly hooks around you as well, desperately trying to force you further inside her
>She slips her claws in between your torso and your arms, cutting them free
>She grabs your hands, guides them to her breasts and issues a gasping order to squeeze them
>Consumed by lust, you obey without hesitation, roughly pressing and fondling them, rolling her pert nipples between your fingers
>She groans through clenched teeth, her eyes closed tight and pulls you close once again, resting her head on your shoulder
>Deciding that if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound, you push her back just enough for you to press your lips against hers
>That ends it for her. Her eyes snap open in surprise at your sudden initiative and she thrashes wildly as her climax rocks her body. The three sets of chitinous limbs holding you pull you against her and keep you there, squeezing you so tight you fear they might break something
>So violent are her jolting movements that she finally tears her web from its moorings, sending you both tumbling down to the floor
>The tickling sensation of freefall in your belly surprises you enough that you briefly lose all muscle control and explode deep inside her, a wash of pearly cream filling her most intimate reaches
>You hit the sofa barely a second later, bouncing once, twice, before coming to a rest, the amorous spidergirl still clinging to you
>Evidently comfortable right where she is, she sighs in satisfaction and pulls your head down to her chest, burying her face in your hair and quickly falling asleep
>You decide that you're far too tired to bother with trying to extricate yourself from three sets of limbs, and allow yourself to black out
 
>You wake next morning on your couch, staring at that weird spot on your ceiling leftover from the firecracker incident
>It was all just a dream
>Wait no it wasn't. Your neck is throbbing where she bit you and your groin feels hollow and abused
>You sit up painfully, trailing stray threads of silk, and do a double take, suddenly unsure if this really is your apartment
>The place is spotless, more spotless than it was when you cleaned it up in preparation for the party
>You glance at the clock on the wall. It's 2 in the afternoon. That explains your intense thirst and gnawing hunger.
>You groan as you stand up, almost falling back down as the handful of threads that escaped her notice stick both to you and your sofa, proving reluctant to break before your momentum finally overwhelms them
>Heading into the kitchen, you find a six-pack of Doc Spade's Patented Rape Recovery Tonic (TM) waiting for you on the counter. A smiling succubus in scrubs and an archaic head mirror gives you a thumbs up from the label, promising that the drink's proprietary formula will put the pep back in your step after a night of being mercilessly monster mashed or your money back.
>You pry a can out of its plastic ring and notice a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a piece of masking tape, underneath it
>You pop the top on the can and drain half of it in one gulp before unfolding the paper and reading it.
>It's a note, written in an elegant hand, apologizing for a certain spidergirl's behavior the previous night
>"You know how monstergirls get during a full moon"
>If you didn't before, you certainly do now. You continue sipping your drink as you make your way to your bedroom
>You check yourself out in the mirror. The bites on your neck don't look nearly as bad as they feel
>Still, you'd like to cover them up
>You proceed to the closet and dig around for a clean shirt with a collar. You manage to find one, a gaudy floral-print Hawaiian affair that you bought last year for Halloween
>You pull it on, button it up, and stroll out the door
>You hesitate a bit, then shrug it off and tap gently at your neighbor's door
>She answers it a moment later, nibbling at a bundle of her own webbing wrapped around a chopstick
>She stifles a giggle when she sees your clothes, forcing her face back to a neutral expression and leaning against the door frame
>"You're pissed aren't you?"
 
>You sigh and explain to her that you're not angry, just irritated. God only knows what the long-term side effects of that gas could be.
>You explain that you would have missed work today had you not had the foresight to file for an extra day off to nurse the hangover you were expecting
>You request that she give you some kind of heads up next time
>She looks more and more pleased as you continue to speak
>As soon as you finish, she grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a deep, gulping kiss.
>You can feel her teeth bumping against yours, her fangs flexing and folding and dribbling the sweet, tingling taste of her venom into your mouth
>Eventually she pulls back and lets you breath, strings of saliva hanging between your mouths
>She watches them bow and break, then finally releases her grip on you
>"I guess I'll see you on the next full moon then"
>She backs inside her apartment and swings the door shut before you can respond
>Despite the lingering ache in your crotch, you feel yourself pitching a tent
>You shudder and force your thoughts toward unerotic topics while you head down to the store to purchase a lunar calendar
>When you return home, you hang it on the wall and start counting down the days to your next night of passion