I sat by the edge of the lake again, looking out over the still waters at the moon as she hung reflected on its surface. I always loved scenes like this. The silver plate calling to my most primal depths, my heart aching to do justice to the fur that I kept bound under my clothes, to hunt, to mate, to fight for my ‘turf’ and ward off any competitors… I laugh quietly to myself at the thought. Those were the old ways; our kind is more civilized now. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’m all too eager to claw into a rock while I think about all that- it’s enough to get me aroused.
	I close my eyes and try to breathe, to calm myself down and come back to… whatever the hell I was doing out so late at night. My eyes open and I look at my lap- notebooks full of that same lake scene litter over my lap. They’re all crude and mediocre, the kind of stuff real artists would leave at home while they worked on some magnum opus that wouldn’t be finished by the time they were turned into art galleries- just to be loved by some stupid gawkers that put thoughts into the artists head without really taking in the work in front of them. God, I envy those half-assing pricks.
	A sound pulls me from that thought. A smooth and silky sound, like melted chocolate mixed slowly into a glass of frothy milk. The sound echoes over the lake to me from a nearby bridge, the tune calling me to it. I get up from my sandy perch and meander to the source, wanting to find it. I feel my heart pounding out of my chest when I see her, my ears perking in her direction. “Hello?” I called out- sure the sound came from under the bridge. I was proven right and my breath left me. The beauty I was seeing swept me away. The spider was dressed in a flowing white gown that hung off the shoulders of her upper body while it glowed with the light of the moon. Her breasts looked like a pair of overripe mangoes trapped to her chest, the cleavage made modest by her right hand.
	I waded into the water to get a better look at her. She turned to me with a smile, sweeping cherry red locks out of a golden eye. On her neck, I thought I could see a necklace with a large red gem surrounded ivory bars. I couldn’t tell since she turned away when I got close enough to get a good look. Instead, she gave me a clear view of her spinneret and the blue infinity symbol that seemed to be almost sloppily painted onto her abdomen. The white of her body blinded me with the light reflected from the moon, still my eyes stayed on her. Then, she blessed me with her voice again.
	“You’re out awfully late mister artist…”
	“You knew that I paint?”
	“Hands. Your hands are covered in ink.”
	“Oh. Well, what are you doing out so late tonight?” 
	She turned to look at me with that smile again, with one glowing golden eye again, and laughed under her breath at me. “I’m a white widow, I’m nocturnal. What of you, wolf-boy?” my head reeled back at that last part, I’ve never heard of that before. I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you, dear reader, what a black widow is… but that by itself just baffled me. “Uhm, what?” She said nothing, did nothing but walked into the shadow under the bridge again. I followed if only to give my answer and find out what she meant by calling herself that. “Okay, uh, I was out here for the scenery. I couldn’t think of anything to draw up…” I was already seeing her as my muse, with all the trappings including that alluring voice.
	We waded in the shallows to the other side of the lake for a while. The four legs of her lower body only suggested by the shifting of her gown, the sound of the water muted with her delicate movements. I could have sworn that she was simply gliding over the water as we drew to the farthest edge of the lake. “I’m just your average forest spider… I’m harmless.” She turned to me and smiled again, this time giving me a good look at the front of her dress. I had to wonder how I could have missed that the ‘V’ of her dress reached down to her belly button. We walked out of the water to a little abandoned bunker at the edge of the lake and opened the door to it with ease- I still followed her into the darkness.
	Instead of a ladder that led straight down, we were faced with a path that led downward in a gentle curve and the walls plastered in silk that I sensed were of the same fabric as her dress. It didn’t take us long to get to the very center of this odd bunker, a completely round room that bore a bed with a canopy. The floor was made up of a network of webs that kept it safely suspended over a pit. A quick look around the room revealed and old sign beneath us that said: ‘KEEP OUT’ and ‘PITFALL HAZARD’. I was immediately worried and tried to say something, but couldn’t. My whole body started to seize up all around me from a pinch at my neck and everything spun and blurred before my eyes. It all went black after that, and I was completely unsure of how long I was out.

	I said before I had no idea how long I was out, I said that I couldn’t move, I never said how good it felt. My whole body felt light, I was happy and I didn’t care how I got that way. It was even better when I felt like my back was pressed against a mattress. For a good while, I figured I was in heaven. It felt that way for every passing moment. And then I opened my eyes and it looked that way. I was stiff from head to toe in more ways than one, I was naked as the day I was born and in my face was her shaking abdomen marked with that sky blue infinity symbol at her underside. Below that, was where her hips met with mine and I was suddenly very aware that she was moaning. Her slit was even paler than the rest of her body and felt just as slick and tight. That kind of pleasure can be a massive bitch when you can’t move- it felt just wrong letting her do all the work. 
	We were like that for an hour; her riding me like a horse, twisting and turning just to get every inch of my paralyzed member into her cunny, getting the head to rub over every inch of her sensitive flesh, even going so far to press the ample curve of her melons to my chest in a struggle to get me through her gates with her sweet breath washing over my face. I never had to wait to cum, in fact I had lost count after I woke up and was pretty sure that I’d came before then. Again, time was lost to me and when I felt the warm rusty light of sunset brush against my cheek I realized how long she had me. Near the end I managed to get my hand to move and touched at her ass now that what I was sure was her venom was finally wearing off and asked, “My turn?”. 
	She whirled on me with her eyes as red and dangerous as the harvest moon, the expression on her face as calm and seductive as the night before. It was then that things changed for the worse. I realized that I had been tricked, that the white beauty was never white, that her hair and eyes had always been red, that there was always a perfect red hourglass imprinted on her backside. As lucky as I felt before, the coldest chill struck through me like a cold shower. “Oh no, that’s not how it works,” she shook herself, making me cum again, my slickness dressing us both as she pulled away. 
	She spread her legs for me, raising her abdomen to present her slit against the bed which had turned into a massive nondescript web. Two of her arms raised ahead of her while the other to cupped at her nipples, presenting a modest sideboob. The glistening black of her body was awash with a faint red then, as if to present my doom while she looked back with a smile, those eyes glowing with lust and malice. I knew then, I’d seen her once before in a picture by another artist who’d been better than anyone that I’ve ever seen. She quoted the caption just to taunt me when she saw the dawning realization on my face. “Just remember what happens after the fun…”
	I just knew at that moment.
	I knew I was in hell and no one would know where to find me. 
No one would hear me scream.
I was in a widow’s nest, Belladonna’s nest.