Rigoberto the recluse waited patiently for the giantess to pass him by. He fantasized about sinking his fangs into pudgy kankle meat, filling flesh with his necrotizing poison. Anger demanded retaliation for the destruction of his mate, and their sack of spiderlings. His entire brood slaughtered in one foul spray of bottled arachnid-death. Fury seethed behind his many eyes.
However instinct was a fickle mistress, and his need for survival outweighed any dreams of revenge. His chitinous loins burned for another mate, another chance at procreation. Every fiber of his tiny body yearned for the shivering release that fertilizing bulging sacks of freshly laid eggs would bring. Rigo was one horny little spider.
He scoured the exterior of the giantess’ abode, first looking for another recluse, then lowering his standards to other less attractive spiders. He crawled, climbed and delved, but he couldn’t find one suitable mate. It was maddening, to think that the giantess had wrought such a genocidal holy war against spider kind, and left him to die alone.
Perhaps inside the giantess’ stone nest there were other survivors such as him, alone and afraid, and more importantly, desperate for copulation. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.
Rigo entered through an open window, hugging the shadows within until he was safely hidden beneath the hulking plateau where the giantess slept. He searched the bedroom, then ventured out into the labyrinth of the gargantuan home.
The home was infested with a plethora of insects, all of whom insisted that arachnids had been obliterated long ago. Rigo sampled a few of the more delicious looking prey, slurping as he interrogated their kin. They seemed unperturbed.
He returned to the sleeping giantess’ chamber. Thunderous snoring grated upon his spider soul, that she could slumber so soundly when his very existence dangled from a broken web, awoke a lustful rage within him.
Silently Rigo crept up onto the bed, pausing in caution as the giantess choked on sleep apnea.
“¡Espero que el estrangulador a la muerte en su saliva maloliente, Puta!” He hissed, traversing the valley of her legs.
The foreboding cave at the valley’s end belched forth noxious gasses, a grim warning to any foolish enough to dare traverse its putrescence. Rigo entered without hesitation.
Deep within the slimy depths he found it, an egg delicately attached to the bloody uterine walls of his new horrific home. Procreation was inevitable.
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