The cocoon wasn't just a prison anymore—it had become a bridal shroud.

The silk was alive, pulsing faintly with each of his ragged breaths, clinging tighter with every twitch of his muscles. Allen's body was stretched like a sacred offering, suspended in a web of throbbing threads that stuck to his skin like glue, locking him in a permanent arch. His cock jutted outward, swollen beyond reason, dark with blood and dripping strings of clear fluid that clung to the silk like pearls on a necklace. It had been hours—or maybe days—since he'd been able to think clearly. The venom coursing through him made time meaningless, stretching and contracting like the threads around his body. He wasn't Allen anymore. He was a pump, a fountain, a thing to be emptied.

A wet clicking sound broke the stagnant heat, followed by the heavy scrape of claws against stone. The brood was returning.

Dozens of eyes glimmered from the shadows, green and gold and glistening like jewels in a black crown. The first to step forward was their queen—the Widow. Her body undulated with obscene grace, her torso sculpted like a goddess while her lower half bloomed into a monstrous abdomen dripping trails of glistening silk. Her breasts swung heavily with each crawl, glistening with slime that caught the sickly glow of the chamber's fungal light.

"My lovely little prize," she hissed, her voice like silk tearing. Her fingers—long, jointed, and tipped with onyx claws—stroked his jaw. Allen tried to speak, but the gag in his mouth had hardened, fused with his teeth like a second tongue. The Widow leaned in, her breath thick with pheromonal musk. "You've been such a good seed-giver."

She traced his cock with one claw, dragging the sharp tip along the throbbing vein until a bead of blood welled at the surface. Allen groaned—a broken, guttural sound—his hips jerking instinctively. That tiny sting only made his shaft harder, angrier. The venom had rewired his pain into pleasure. Every scrape, every burn was bliss.

The Widow licked the blood off her claw, her forked tongue glistening. Then she kissed his cockhead—soft at first, then greedily, sealing her mouth over the crown and drinking him like nectar. Her throat clicked and churned as she swallowed him inch by inch, her fangs grazing his length in little teasing bites that sent fireworks of agony and ecstasy detonating through his spine. He thrashed, but the silk chains only sank deeper, stretching his limbs tighter, until his joints screamed. The threads groaned and vibrated, alive with heat as if the web itself was climaxing with him.

When she pulled back, his cock burst with another jet of seed, thick and ropy, painting her chest in pearlescent streaks. She laughed—a sound like chitin grinding—and smeared the mess over her tits with both hands, making them gleam like polished stone. "Still so full," she purred. "My pretty human… you were made for us."

The others closed in now—dozens of spider-women, their bodies a fever dream of beauty and monstrosity. Some dropped from the ceiling, landing with a wet slap of limbs on stone. Others crawled in sideways along the walls, their claws leaving pale scratches on the rock. They surrounded him like priests circling an altar, their eyes burning with hunger. Threads trailed from their abdomens, twitching and pulsing like veins as they weaved new silk over his legs, his chest, leaving only that throbbing cock exposed like a royal scepter.

One of them leaned low, her face inches from his. Her lips glistened as she whispered, "Do you know what comes next, sweet thing?" He couldn't answer—not with the gag sealing his mouth—but his eyes widened as her claw reached for his balls, cradling them almost tenderly… before tightening. Pain exploded through him, sharp enough to tear a scream from his throat, muffled into a pathetic gurgle behind the silk. But then—then came the rush. His cock spasmed violently, unloading another thick surge that splattered across her face. She moaned, dragging her tongue over her cheeks, savoring every drop.

"Yes…" another hissed from behind him, her voice like oil in water. "Break him. Milk him. Weave him into our womb."

They descended together, an orgiastic tide of limbs and dripping cunts. Some mounted his face, grinding until his nose and mouth were slick with their juices, forcing him to choke and swallow. Others rode his hips, spearing themselves on his cock one after another, their abdomens quivering as they pumped him full of venom and sucked his seed like starving leeches. The air filled with wet sounds—slap, squelch, suck, pop—a symphony of obscene music echoing in the cavern. His hips moved without thought, driven by venom and primal instinct, fucking and jerking against the bonds even as they drained him.

And still, they weren't satisfied.

The Widow returned, towering over them all, her silhouette a nightmare of curves and legs. She gripped his chin, forcing his dazed eyes to meet hers. "You'll be our king now," she whispered. "Our breeder. Our silk-bound groom."

She shifted her massive body forward, straddling his torso, lowering her swollen, dripping slit over his cock. It was hotter than fire, tighter than any hole that had taken him before, and lined with rings of fleshy ridges that squeezed like a fist. Allen's mind shattered—white static flooding his vision—as she impaled herself on him to the root, the force so violent it snapped some of the silk threads holding him. She didn't stop. Her claws dug into his chest, splitting skin, and her voice rose in a keening shriek as she bounced on him like a creature possessed. Each drop of venom from her cunt burned into his shaft like liquid fire, sending pleasure screaming through his nerves until he thought he'd die from it.

He came again. And again. And again.

The cocoon drank it all. The silk beneath him absorbed every spurt, pulsing and glowing faintly with each fresh load, feeding the nest like roots sucking water. The threads slithered over his skin now, fusing into his flesh, replacing his veins with white cords. His heart didn't beat anymore—the web did.

When the Widow finally collapsed against him, panting in guttural clicks, she whispered something in his ear that made the last sane part of him whimper:

"Tomorrow, the eggs go in."

And then the world went black.

The cocoon was nearly complete now, strands laced so tight across his thighs that his blood throbbed in protest. Every time he strained, the cords only dug deeper, biting his skin with silk that burned like venom. His cock—angry, raw, and dripping—was the only thing left free, standing like an obscene totem between layers of glossy white. The spider-women circled him like worshippers at a shrine, their bodies slick with his cum, pheromones thickening the air into something molten.

One of them slithered forward, her belly still sagging slightly from being stuffed full earlier. She giggled, a wet, throaty sound, and sank to her knees, trailing her tongue from the sticky silk on his thighs to the root of his cock. The heat of her breath was venom-sweet. "Still so hard," she hissed, dragging her nails lightly down his shaft until his hips jerked against the bonds. "You'll never get soft for us, little toy. Not until the last drop's gone."

Another crawled behind him, fangs grazing his shoulder, her venom sweat running in rivulets down his skin. The moment her lips touched his neck, the world tilted—the cocoon constricted tighter, and his veins sang like fire. He couldn't even scream; his mouth was packed with layers of silk, gagging him, forcing his moans to bubble into wet, pathetic gurgles. His cock twitched uncontrollably, dribbling pre-cum in long, glistening threads that the first spider eagerly lapped up like nectar.

And then, they started again.

The one behind him hooked her legs over his hips and shoved herself down hard on his cock, her inner walls gripping like the nest itself was trying to milk him dry. He gagged on his own breath as her body slammed against his, a brutal rhythm that made the silk bindings creak. Her claws dug into his chest as she arched back, riding him with zero mercy, venom-slick juices coating his length until it dripped down his balls and pooled beneath him. Every thrust made the cocoon squeeze tighter, like it was alive, like it wanted to crush the last resistance out of him.

Two more moved in, their shadows looming over his face. One yanked the gag loose just enough for air to sear his lungs—and then smeared her slick cunt over his mouth before he could take a full breath. The taste was sharp, musky, overwhelming, and her laughter spilled into his skull as she ground herself against his tongue. "Drink it," she purred, pushing harder, suffocating him in molten flesh while the other straddled his head, dragging her claws through his hair before lowering her ass onto his nose. Heat, scent, venom—he was drowning in them, their laughter vibrating through his bones.

He convulsed when the one on his cock came, her spasms milking him viciously, squeezing until his vision burst white with agony and ecstasy. His cum shot deep inside her, and she screamed in triumph, her belly clenching like she wanted to wring him hollow. But they didn't stop. Even before her aftershocks faded, another shoved her aside, mounting him so fast his shaft barely softened. She sank down with a guttural growl, claws raking his stomach as she slammed her hips in frantic jerks.

Venom was flooding him now. His veins pulsed black and violet under his skin, heat radiating off him like a furnace. His balls felt like molten iron, each thrust forcing another spurt of cum until he didn't even feel the release anymore—just an endless draining that blurred pain into pleasure. Every nerve screamed, yet begged for more. His cock was raw, his breath broken into sobbing gasps against the pussy grinding his face, and still they came, and came, and came.

Someone whispered against his ear, soft and cruel, even as her claws tightened on his jaw: "Don't worry, pretty thing… when your cock rots off, we'll spin you a new one." Her laugh was silk-sharp, and his muffled scream only fed the frenzy.

The cocoon climbed higher, sealing his chest, his arms, even his throat until only his cock, his eyes, and the crown of his head remained bare. His world shrank to heat and wet and silk. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Only feel. Flesh pounding his cock. Flesh smothering his face. Webs tightening like a lover's grip. The venom boiled his blood, burned his mind, until every spasm of his hips felt like the last spark of life being torn out and fed to the nest.

And still… they weren't done.

Hands stroked him even as they rode him raw, smearing him with slick venom and strings of cum. A tongue traced the veins in his cock, teasing, coaxing another twitch. Someone else bit his nipple until blood welled, licking it up with obscene delight. A new heat pressed against his length, wetter, tighter, dragging him into another savage rhythm. His cock throbbed like it would split in half, cum pumping so hard it hurt, so much that the air reeked of sex and salt and silk.

They moaned his name now—not out of love, but worship. The breeder. The meat. The altar. Their chorus rose as another climax ripped him apart, cum spilling in endless gushes while he shook helplessly in his silk coffin. The one on his mouth screamed when she came, juices flooding his throat so fast he choked, gagged, swallowed until tears ran down his face and mixed with venom sweat.

His mind cracked. The nest filled it. Their laughter, their hissing moans, their endless need. There was no "him" anymore—only the writhing web, the thrusting hips, the binding silk, the cock that wouldn't die.

And deep, deep inside the shadows, something bigger stirred. A shape that made the others freeze mid-thrust. Their queen. She moved slowly, deliberately, her eyes burning like molten gold as her legs clicked against the threads. The spider-women slid off him one by one, bowing low, their bodies still dripping his seed.

The cocoon trembled when she approached. Her scent hit him like poison and perfume, a wave of heat that made his cock twitch even as it wept raw tears of cum. She loomed above him, enormous, divine, her voice a silk whisper that slid down his spine like venom:

"Mine."

The word pulsed in his skull, drowning everything else. She lowered herself, fangs glinting, and he felt the first drag of something vast and wet against his cock—hotter than fire, tighter than anything before. His scream shattered in his throat as she took him to the root in one brutal thrust, and the nest sang with his agony.

And then… she began to move.