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bossymarmalade) wrote2003-06-03 11:44 am
a routine soul-smear
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navia was evil. From her overwhelming love for Joshtin, her constant efforts to convince me of such, and her glee everytime Justin "hangs" himself in the old-skool choreography for "I Want You Back", all the signs pointed towards her true nature.
But none so much as the idea for the spider-thing. And, seeing as it's her birthday, I've finally written it.
Heavy warnings for, um, mutated cannibalistic Justin, JC torture, and sort-of bestiality. Don't read it and then yell at me, okay? I already warned you.
the spider story
He doesn't know how long he's been here.He can remember, a time—days, weeks, eons, what?—ago when he first saw Justin turning. Saw him, heard him muttering away to himself in a strange scattered low way, saw him. JC wonders if he could have known. JC wonders if there's any way that anybody ever could have known.
He saw Spiderman when it came out and it was nothing like this.
When he hears tapping at the door, that much more agonizingly louder for the room being dark and dim, JC screams. It doesn't matter whether or not he screams, because his mouth is spun over with cobweb, so JC screams and screams until the dust chokes him.
... Things look different in the semi-darkness low light and there's dust motes floating around all the time, wafting prettily over the white filament that binds JC to the bed. He thinks they're pretty. When Justin leaves he spends hours just watching them drift, heart beating faster when they get caught in sudden strange drafts and swish sideways.
JC thinks perhaps his mind isn't functioning quite right anymore.
It's the webbing, he knows it. It's all over him against his bare skin, and he can see enough to know that it's a pattern, even. It's like a quilt, if he squints down at it right, but there's something in it that's been seeping through him and making him groggy and slow. Justin had spun it without speaking at all, just a constant low hum. Justin did things like that now.
Justin's fingers wrap around the side of the door. JC stares at them, how pale they are, how long, how many of them. There's four, there's eight, there's long black things with sharp delicate tips and there's four six eight of those, he can't tell and he maybe doesn't want to. They tap along the wooden doorjamb with terrifying precision and Justin slides into the room, silent and graceful and moves easily onto the bed before JC can breathe. His body is still the same body and it's hovering tersely over JC, Justin's arms bracing him so just their hips are brushing against each other and there's long black spidery legs going around JC too. There's three and six and nine and they're all shiny and spikey and Justin smells like earth but his eyes are still blue.
One leg spans up to tap against JC's face, hard and chitinous and then slices through the web on JC's mouth. JC feels the slide of the cold exoskeleton between his lips and his eyelids flutter when nausea sweeps through his stomach. He gasps air, it's not fresh it's cloggy and filaments but it's good to breathe through his mouth again. He licks his lips. Justin wants him to talk.
"Please," he says. It's not what he meant to say but it's the first thing that he blurts and there are white spots behind his eyes. He imagines them reflected off the inside of his skull and it nearly blinds him. "Please, honey, please Justin. I can't. You. What—what happened to you, man, Justin, what?"
Justin tips his head to the side, and his eyes are big and round and dark and look like they're starting to flatten a little, like his whole face is starting to plane out like an alien's. He reaches one hand up to lay his flat index finger alongside JC's trembling, weak mouth and it's cold and dry. Justin balances the rest of his weight easily on his other arm. It's awful.
His mouth is already open, lower lip jutting, when he bends to kiss JC. When his head dips, JC can see the legs growing out of Justin's back where every rib curves and the larger, stronger set that brace from waist to hip, each side. They spike and bend like cranes. JC would cry, but he's too tired. Justin's mouth tastes of vanilla and dirt. His spider-legs feel like iron slatted against JC's sides.
... Bad things happen.
JC first became aware of this when he read Lord of the Flies in grammar school. He couldn't think about it too hard because there was something about the description of Piggy's brains soft and pink and open on the rock that made him sick deep inside. It made his throat feel clogged. He didn't want to believe in it.
He learned it later for himself just when he was moving about and being alive. Bad things happen. That's life. You take the good with the bad. Get a helmet.
He lies in the bed and feels the soporific effect of the webbing make him a little less cogent with every passing hour. He tries to remember all of the dirty t-shirt sayings that used to confuse him when he was younger. He only manages to remember them halfway, bald spots being solar panels for something and a really disgusting one with women and cats and tunafish. JC had been upset eating fish for months after figuring out that one. He couldn't eat fish burgers for ages after reading some Stephen King zombie story about gross stuff and fish and cheese and hair.
None of this is stuff that he tells Justin. When Justin is there re-spinning the web with his arms that seem more and more every time, all JC can do is plead with him. He thinks of other things to say, even, but that's never what comes out. Bad things happen.
The worst thing happens when Justin is industriously spinning bands of white cobweb across JC's shoulders. Justin never spins lazily and now he clicks, he clicks and hums while he does it. It's almost like beatboxing but more horrible. It makes JC crazy.
Justin is spinning and spinning, his spider-arms moving black and accurate and flashing, and then he leans down and bites JC's chest, right below his collarbone.
Justin used to bite JC sometimes, ages ago, in lifetimes before. But that never felt like this, because Justin's teeth were broad and flat and this is different and it burns. JC looks down and sees that Justin has bitten a neat circle out of his skin. It's stark white for a minute, nice white crop circle in his flesh, and then pinpricks of blood, and then it's brimming swimming with blood.
"You bit me," he croaks. "You bit me."
The blood is spilling out of the nice little circle now and JC gives a panicky sob. Justin's eyes are bigger and stare at him and Justin takes another, contemplative bite, this time out of JC's shoulder, and that one hurts even more.
...
JC is terrified that spider-Justin wants to fuck him.
...
JC is right.
... He spends the day after that staring at the ceiling. There is stucco on the ceiling. JC wonders if it would hurt if it fell down on him, with all the little points. JC wonders if it makes any difference to his sanity if he's perfectly aware that he's losing his mind. JC remembers what Justin feels like inside him, but he also knows what it feels like to be wrapped all around immobilized by dozens of stiff black carapace legs. There is no way for him to die unless Justin kills him. JC thinks he might not want to die just yet. He is strangely calm. He thinks.
... When Justin is there next, JC waits patiently until Justin slits the webbing over his mouth. He swallows a few times and looks at Justin's long long legs, his real ones of flesh and bone, the way they're slanted across and off down the side of the bed. It's a lovely sight. JC has always liked Justin's long long legs.
"I want to be like you," he rasps. His voice is cottony and parched; he hardly uses it anymore. Justin pauses, a couple of legs still stirring restlessly, and fixes his biggest eyes on JC. His clicking has stopped. JC takes a deep breath and lowers his eyelashes. "Make me like you. Justin, please."
There's no movement after that, JC holds his breath, which comes easily now. He doesn't need as much air as he used to. He manages not to react even a little when Justin bites into the side of his chin and JC feels blood run down his neck. Justin rubs the side of his face into the blood and then kisses JC. His tongue isn't hot and soft like it used to be, he uses it like a lizard now and it makes JC shiver but he carefully latches his teeth onto Justin's still-so-pretty upper lip and bites down hard. The blood that splashes into JC's mouth is salty and tarry and JC swallows it eagerly, feeling it trail fire down his throat.
Justin's flattened face is smeared with blood. JC watches in fascination when more blood splatters against it, bright red human mammalian blood, and he looks down and sees a soft-shelled leg sticking out from his own side, tapping meandering weakly along the bed. He didn't even feel it tear out from his flesh. He feels the next one, though. Justin never moves, and Justin bites a crop circle out of JC's forearm.
... Hours pass.
JC breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth.
Legs rip through JC's skin and sprawl haplessly down the mattress.
He thought that maybe after a while the pain would become more bearable, or that he wouldn't notice it as much. He realizes after one particularly thick, strong leg pushes out of his hipbone that's not going to happen. Justin watches quietly, clicking in what JC wants to believe is an anticipatory, encouraging manner. That's probably wishful thinking.
As it turns out, it isn't.
Moments after the last leg schripps out of his skin, Justin climbs smoothly on top of him. JC pants slightly when Justin pushes inside him but doesn't move otherwise. His body doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like his anymore, he's not sure if he should be worried about what happens to it if it's not his. Things are moving quickly and there's dust motes in the air, floating prettily past Piggy's brains soft and pink on the rock when Justin grabs one of JC's newborn softshelled legs in a frenzy and rips it out.
There's screaming, he's sure of that. It's strange because it's not as loud as Justin's clicks and it sounds a little like JC used to sound back when he screamed because of different things. Or really, because of the same thing because he used to scream like this when Justin fucked him, only there wasn't the also pain of his unnatural spider appendages being pulled out from where they sectionally joined his body, welded against bone and flesh.
Justin seems excited, as much as JC can tell through the haze of blood and pain and thick mucous matter that's spilling from his broken legs. He might stop thinking in a moment, because it's not really getting him anywhere. But he still wonders, a tiny little part of his mind, what brought them to this point and how it all happened. Maybe that doesn't matter anymore, no he's sure that doesn't matter anymore and in fact there's precious little that does matter, because Justin's looming up across JC's line of vision and Justin's eyes are the size of saucers and he's reaching up with one gentle, trembling leg (just like how justin's fingers used to tremble right before he came) and JC notices just how sharp the edge is, lethal really, before it slashes across his throat and everything goes
Re:
That's an interesting way to look at it. Because as a spider he's pretty much focused on what he wants, isn't he?
And I'm glad the Lord of the Flies mention didn't come off as pretentious, because it's been years since I've read the book and really, I didn't like it much at all. It creeped me the hell out.
Thank you for the feedback, sweetie, and for succumbing despite your bitter-phase. There's no need to be scared of me. *g*
Re:
mmm hmmm. And the staring somehow fits, too, although I'm not sure how. Cause it's not into a mirror or anything, and yet it seems that way - sort of perusing a newly purchased item.
And yeah, what really sealed the LotF reference was that second mention of the soft pink brains. V. nice use of that as metaphor for death of JC's innocence/sanity.
And you're quite welcome for the feedback, and I'm glad I succumbed. Although I maintain your use of the word "succumb" is indication that I should, indeed, still be scared of you. You'll start using your evil mind-powers on me, and next thing you know, I'll be meeting Justin while wearing an "arachnids do it eightfold" t-shirt...or something.