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Pillow 1 - Topping at eight X
🕑 Added 2020-01-18 15:59:44 +0000 UTC(Man into tarantula - TG)*
“Eight times eight you will reach the top, the sweet taste of success. Eight times and not a single time more, because the eighth will be all for you. Once you reach that peak and you stand totally proud and completely naked all will crumble away and your flesh will be squeezed until you forever lurk with less than manhood...”
The jock never gave a second thought to that fateful curse, rightfully placed on him due to his spiteful attitude towards those he considered beneath him.
He kept winning, again and again, perfecting his body, conquering women, not giving a second’s consideration to the idea of his doomed fate becoming a reality.
Under one of his muscular arms was the eighth of his gold trophies, under the other his eighth golden haired conquest.
He put the trophy on top of the drawers that were against the front wall, near the terrarium, and then he put the woman on his bed.
His erection was already growing inside his pants, with a finger and a smirk the woman teased him from the blankets.
“Come on, big boy, show me how much of a man you are!”
The deal was sealed.
Smiling he began to undress, shirt first, the pants would have followed if it wasn’t for the shoes, impatiently he kicked them and then kicked off the treacherous pants and also his underwear.
His erection sprang free, the woman giggled.
“The socks too!”
He nodded and eagerly agreed, with a few clumsy hops and jumps the sock were also off.
The jock put his two feet down on the floor and he stood up, completely naked, fit muscles - the product of an entire life of devotion behind them, a well shaved and proud and hard penis, a peak of masculinity standing in front of womanhood.
Giggling the woman leaned back on the bed, opening her legs.
“Go on, big boy...!” she mumbled impatiently. “Come and get the prize you deserve...!”
But the jock just stood in front of the bed, with a smile frozen on his lips.
“Big boy... Are you crying?”
He was.
A squealing cry came from between his sealed teeth, leaving the girl in shock.
The jock began to salivate, his eyes widening with fear as the pressure nailed him to the floor.
“Gheeeeeegghhhhh...!”
He grabbed his sides, leaning forward slightly, a hundred or more small pinches on his shoulders and his back as stiff brown and black hairs began to pierce his tanned skin.
“Holy shit...!” gasped the woman closing her legs and leaning back on the bed. “Is that an allergic reaction or some shit?”
The man snorted in anger.
“S-stupi bi... HRRGh! Helpr... Mreeeghh...! I can’t... GRAAAARGH!”
His mouth opened wide, cracking sounds were heard as from the sides of his jaw emerged two pointy fangs, followed quickly by wiggling pincers that forced the man to remain with his lips open.
On his forehead several vertical scratches appeared.
The woman remained terrified in the bed.
“Fucking god! What’s going on with you?!”
The jock sobbing in despair.
“HELPRRRRGH! PLEASGHHHH! DUUU WANNAGGGGH!”
Skin was quickly covered by stiff dark brown hairs all over the place, arms, legs, back, crotch, an unpleasant mantle that covered every inch over his tense muscles.
His spine bent back and he screamed loudly in pain as pointy appendages began to pierce the sides of his torso.
Two extra in each side, gaining in length and articulations as they grew outward.
The long limbs wiggled, covering in the same spiky fur as the woman in the bed screamed at the top of her lungs.
“IIIIIAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“GHEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”
Sound filled the room, but it couldn’t drown out the snaps and cracks of the transformation.
The jock dropped down onto his knees, the extra appendages tapped the floor and the bed as he kept begging for help, feeling the terrible pressure of his balls shrinking inside their scrotum.
On his forehead the scratches that had been inflating into what seem like pustules, made several disgusting sounds and then split open.
More yelling and confusion.
The pincers shook and shivered.
The scratches on his head opened.
A bunch of new eyes shook the man’s already numb perception of reality, dark spheres that looked in many different directions as his two original terrified eyes began to be painted in a similar pitch black shade.
His hands lost their grip on the blanket and the guy ended completely down on all fours, or more correctly all eight, on the floor.
The sobbing woman lost sight of the mutating monstrosity, yet she could still hear the symphony of changes, curiosity was stronger than fear and she crawled to the edge of the bed.
“B-big... boy...?”
What was left of the crumbling thing she had called big boy raised his arachnid head and gasped as if he needed air in his lungs.
“EEeeeerghhhhhhh!”
She could barely believe what she saw, such a sexually desirable man ruined by such a ravaging mutation.
The head was the worst part, bald and covered in that unpleasant thick fur, with too many eyes two massive pincers forming most of the face.
His body seemed to be compressed and flattened, he tried but couldn’t get up, four pairs of appendages tapping all over the place.
He was shrinking, painfully, slowly, but certainly already smaller than the woman witnessing his horrid damning metamorphosis away from humanity.
Not all of him though, one part seemed to keep its size: The penis.
His sexuality - stiff and bloated, pointing straight out from his body, between the spread hairy legs, it was inflating, growing rounder.
She could see the tip of his sex opening and closing, she couldn’t see a ball sack anywhere.
“You... are no longer big... or... a boy...” she mumbled, tears still flowing, with a mixture of fascination and utter horror.
“Nooogh! Noooooh! Nuuuooooohg!”
The unfortunate creature kept shrinking down towards the floor, it reached the size of a dog, then a cat, then less and less even than that.
His cock, so large and hairy, almost bigger than the flattened squashed torso.
Humanity erased with each lost inch, less and less recognizably a man and more... the woman glanced towards the terrarium in front of the bed...
“Tarantula...” escaped from her lips.
In confusion and pain the sorry creature below her shook its head in denial as if it still had any say in the matter.
Disgusted and horrified the woman looked around and saw the man who had bought her to the room’s clothes, clothes now immense compared with the thing that he was now, a thing that would never again fit them, she grabbed the warm underwear and using it as a glove she grabbed one of the hairy legs of the shrinking mess of flesh.
It struggled as she lifted it effortlessly, still making vaguely human sounds.
“Peeeesfh... Helffffff... Greeeeh...”
Her face a grin of revulsion, she looked at the terrarium and got up from the bed, carrying the thing.
By the time she opened the top of the terrarium and held the sorry thing above it, it had almost reached the proper size for it’s new species and sex.
The bunch of dark dull eyes in the hairy inhuman head looked at her, begging desperately for her not to what she was just about to do.
For an instant the woman had doubts, but deep inside her she knew that if the thing had stayed a man she would have been just another mark after the night was over.
She wasn’t angry about that, but it made it easier for her to not get mixed up in such a bizarre ordeal.
It made it easier for her to just open her fingers.
A final low human screech as it fell.
“Nruuuuugh...! Biiiiirghhhchhhhh!”
The woman threw the underwear away, cleaning her hands on the skirt of her dress, letting it all become a bad nightmare product of cheap booze she left the room, slamming the door, not looking back.
The trophy fell from the drawer.
On the floor of the terrarium the tarantula that didn’t want to believe she was one lifted herself up from the dry foliage.
The last soft snaps of the final changes, erasing what little may have been left of her previous form.
She felt despair, small, insignificant, miserable, with her front legs she tapped the crystal walls of the terrarium and tried to cry, but couldn’t anymore.
Movement behind her, under the shadows of a branch another tarantula emerged, attracted by the scent of a willing female.
A female that was her.
The last remnants of the man yelled inside the tarantula’s tiny head, knowing that what had once been an exotic pet now had power over it’s once master.
The male quickly reached her, his hairy legs tapping at her sides, her abdomen raising, looking for sex ignoring the crumbling protests in her tiny brain.
Despite a pathetic last effort there was nothing that could be done, she couldn’t stop herself from being a manly man and she couldn’t escape the consequences that that had brought her.
With the mating the last scraps of human masculinity shattered and became distant dust in the back of a simple mind.
It didn’t even have time to feel sorrow or disgust before becoming just a shady memory of the tarantula.
The female tarantula was all that remained, all it was meant to be.
A female that willingly raised her sex again, eagerly taking the males seed.
Luckily the terrarium had been left open, they would escape and live free.
Hunting and mating, never did the tarantula give a second thought to it’s sorry memory of manhood.
