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The sickly electric light made the tiny undulating black mass seem much smaller against the immensity of the tunnel. Water, taken in offering from last night's storm, battered its way down. The small mass wiggled with the current until two stalks of ears popped up like shark fins, breaking the surface with a toothy smile. \n\nThe diving-suited figure shook the harsh water, slapping his flippers against the current until the toothy edge of his scuba knife shot out to catch a stray service ladder. The lagomorph slipped into the air with the glistening speed of a penguin, pulling himself hard onto the nearest run. By his digits his goggles and snorkel snapped away, revealing his shark teeth. Max slapped the nearest wall, ``You know, you'd think I'd catch one highly mutated mass murderer by now, but what do I know?'' he paused, ``Talking to myself reminds me of Sam's highly judgmental presence.''\n\nHe offered, but of course Sam had to turn down a good outing. `No way Max,' Sam in his memory said, `you know I hate public bathrooms. And I hate stormwater drains just as much, in case you need to remember why.'. \n\n``Baby,'' Max kicked his feet back and forth, ``...hmm.'' He made a swift realization, ``You know I keep forgetting Sam is the one with the innate sense of direction and not me.'' \n\nHe couldn't have swam that far out, he reasoned. Not like he never got lost before. Instinct his belly buddy, it would not fail to shimmy him out this predicament of his own design. Max bellied-in, slipping with the slickness of a mating season salmon out to ocean. The current would lead the way.\n\nNot long before the rushing waterways made up his mind for Max. One turn begat another and slipped into another. Max likened it to a waterpark slide with the equal amount of abrasions and tetanus. But the current would run out. Max's frictionless rubber suit body wobbled and tumbled into a distinct pool. Flipping himself right side up but still floating, the lagomorph saw he floated in a section of the drainage where workers had yet to finish the tunnel. Hunks of rock remained hewed out in chunks of chocolate cake. Little construction lights stuck out from solid metal yellow stakes in the ground. The shape of the cavern with the tunnel leading into it gave it the appearance of a dank church.\n\n``Little too clean for this city, don't you think?'' Max asked himself aloud.\n\nAs though to answer Max, his beady eyes picked up circles of disturbances in the muddy water. He observed the surface tension strain and ultimately collapse, rapid fleshy movement stabbing out of the water. A deep dark purple appendage slipped out, the twists and bends lending them an unusual dimension. The rabbit awed before the oddly smooth appendage gripped him him by the ears, tossing him with a hard slap by the water. His face smarted before he rolled back over with his scuba knife in hand. \n\nThe stranger must have anticipated some kind of hard resistance, as a similar limb snatched his wrist. Max's various tendons strained against the limb of pure muscle, caught in an arm wrestling tournament for the decade. Unlike its sibling, at the end of this limb sat something very hominid - a hand. He grunted as he bared a ferocious beaming grin, ``Upper-body workout! I'll have the proportions of a stunted Ken in no time!''\n\nThis appendage had no interest in playing fair, whatever game it played. Another hand-like appendage burst out the water to slip around his ankle, disturbing the unlucky rabbit's balance. Max flopped on his back with a splash, ``Hey you're supposed to tap in your crotchety yet beloved coach when you do that!''\n\nSomething spoke - no, spoke only put what happened in the broadest strokes. What happened was more Max's mind was an underarm and something - a mind, a sapience - rolled across it with the smoothness of deodorant. \n\n{...a cantankerousness doled out in the softest of velvet gloves. A gossamer cast in rubber with a bladed heart, something in this doll of molars tugs the webs with its teeth, a flossing tincture from the weave, a fledgling an auteur in the weave pricking the shapes...}\n\n``You know, when you talk it's like someone's licking my brain.'' he paused, squirming in the creature's restraints, ``I like the cut of your jib.''\n\nAnother limb burst out of the water, this one a foreleg. Its end carved sharply into a blade-like bone, a weapon of cartilage and collagen. Max whistled as air rushed by his face. He craned his neck to see his diving suit stretched out like obscene webbing from under his arm, the leg pinning him to the pool. \n\n{A cutting and a sawing the clattering of the leoporidae's dentistry. The spottiness of the engorged depths reflects within this one's dots such tiny dots a predatory skull traverse we the equidistant strings a scorpion a spider transfiguration upon the embedded craniums cradled in the matrices lathe such shapes it cuts against time's compendium an auteur...}\n\nAmong the jabbering in his brain, a greater number of spindly limbs appeared from the water. Max grinned at the nasty sight. His touristy affections cost the rabbit as those limbs started skittering around his rubber-suited body. Max expected the jittery creeps that came with most spiders on a body (creepy yet horny), but like those awfully smooth hands the arachnid limbs had a glassblown texture to them. Max felt like he was getting caressed by a giant model kit or kitschy toy. ``You didn't need to drag me out here to flaunt social dogma and be violently inappropriate with me, fans do it with me every day!''\n\n{...dogmatic pilgrimages cast asunder and apart allies foes allies again, bodies forged in the upside down rain until decircuited the strings this world brings apart a new configuration lovely lovey yes....}\n\nAgain more of the mind-numbing rambling licked across the nooks and crannies of his brain. At the same moment while he remained woefully staked to the cold stormwater pool, those spider legs started to wiggle past seams and openings in his skintight wetsuit. What laws, social and physical, they broke to bend and snap to worm over his arms and right around chest, Max almost had to give kudos. But with this smooth touchy-feely fest going on beneath his tight rubber suit, he felt this went beyond just a Lorne situation. \n\nMax writhed in the creature's grip, the thought of torching billboards crossing his mind. His mouth ractically unhinging wide open, Max went for the nearest juiciest arachnid leg. Rather than retaliate like any good hunting beast, the riddle-chatting beast took up two non-hand limbs to dive into the gums with curious legs. The rabbit blew reverberating raspberries as they stretched out his mouth into an unrecognizable expression. ``Mffabe fake a foof if you're sfo fforny.''\n\n{Its torquing forges a new cognizant not made of the equal halves but greater than before a sea dog a lepus, teeth that may snatch the unpleasant etchings crude drawers bad dilettantes rant their cudgel upon my weave but pluck pluck my beast shall...}\n\nSomehow, this thing this creature took his suggestion in consideration - they took his words and made a completely different result out of it. Somehow they willed or arranged the rubber of his wet suit to mold into a full rubber hood, the eyes zippered shut. Max should feel grateful they left the mouthpiece open - just so they could continue playing with his mouth.\n\nBut the arachnid did not leave the rest of him unattended. Those legs wriggled through the tight confines of his body suit, prodding him with pesky inquisitive fingers. Max laughed through this ridiculous playtime. Between his legs the material strained as a pipe formed tight to the rubber tent of his belly. ``If I was wearing nothing this would be less awkward.''\n\n{...upon the bones upon the skin wrapped tight and secreted away a body a flesh. Complexity for the weave the unsimplifaction a multiplicity created for its own self-love out of love comes self-loathing and self-love born again...}\n\nThe prodding inside his body started to get ecstatic, overly familiar with the root that laid vacuum sealed against his belly. Max wiggled helplessly in the grasp if that creature. Circumstances left him an articulate doll in the spindly limbs. Max's head surged like the blood going to his penis, nothing quite staying in the same place. Not an unusual state for the lagomorph, his own internal cacophony of self-deleting novels and wandering jabber matched with the alien poetic babble. The intrusive stream-of-consciousness took note of this.\n\n{Daily the caretaker of the ice home the man fades. The life eats itself and burns, the god weaves again and again the web dying every day. The past for the past is in the past. You're in the past. Kill the life destroy the life erase the life.}\n\n``Uhuh I'm sick of single panel newspaper comics too.'' Max struggled with the zipper that blocked out his eyes. Those arachnid legs remained very adamant, pushing his arm back with each strain. His arm seemed to finally give up, flopping dramatically for the creature to continue their spindly pawing. Taking advantage of his vaudeville scheme Max swept his arm to unzip one eye. \n\nIn the water barely less than a Sam away, a set of ruby eyes leered out of the water. The eyes could easily take up his whole head, to say less of the noir-or-crimson head that just skimmed the murky surface. Behind it the bulbous tank of a thorax loomed behind the head like a swiftly approaching planet. \n\n``Anyone tell your eyeballs have that gumball-quality?'' he noted innocently.\n\nNotes of amusement rang through Max. Something about the rabbit tickled this arachnid's fancy and literally tickled as the spider took a liking to tickling his body. Make no doubt, this thing was dangerous and the air dripped with a tension of who could kill who first. Depending on the advantage, either one of them switch and snap the other like kindling. Only thing stopping them was their own attention spans, their own fascinations. Both entwined around each other, two disparate planes crossing to suggest a fucked up shape.\n\n{...it sees the circulations and circulars the mouth takes shape to hunger to hold what is a hole but a circle. Emptiness to form mouths to form the empty to circle again. Caressings of circles within circles the hunger to eat itself engorge itself yes yes...}\n\nMax thought the pawing and `dirty talk' was fine but, ``Strictly a foreplay kind of guy, huh? Sorry but I like my random flings to include at least one form of dry humping.''\n\nThe one hand released his wrist. Max rubbed his cheek before unzipping his other eye. Few can handle Max at his most, not everyone had the mental stamina. The lagomorph prepared a crass string of `consolation' as that hand went around his crotch, ``Hey buddy, but if I wanted a handy I got two hands, two feet, and at least one ear if I strain my neck.''\n\n{Do not mistake the delicatessen of my craving as hunger. The art serves itself, the weaving making it from clay from the malleable flesh to shape it from violence to weave the sculpture new webs born from the tessellations of synaptic harpings with the flesh...}\n\nHow delicately those uncanny fingers danced over his crotch as Max sighed in boredom. Softly, softly fingertips traced the curvature of his vacuum-sealed cucumber, tracing from the glans to the base. The spider took a trip down the ballooning curve that betrayed his scrotum. Max's asshole clenched as a fingertip traced the seam of his coin purse.\n\n{Curvature yes yes this will do the curvature to show the infinity in shabby new dress...}\n\nWith uncanny speed that hand gripped the fleshy part that connected his testicles to his cock and pulled. Max's eyes went haywire when he felt the outline get stretched along with his sack. The pressure felt immense, making his balls throb as though he could feel every ounce of fluid in there. Max stiffened up, ``If you're threatening my nuts lemme just say the Humane society banned me for being both unbreedable and too hard to resist breeding!''\n\n{...your paroxy of contradictions bring no shock no terror. This conflicting shape is familiar to the weave, crackles and fizzes in distant lights how familiar now so pretty pretty...}\n\nAnother hand came to the spider's aid, this one stroking Max's pulsating nuts with his backhand. In the same motion they delivered a hearty slap. Never in Max's life had he had such a personal attack to his testicles. Nauseating pain wrenched through his stomach, his muscles contracting. He arched his back, unable to resist gasping up the scale. It hurt, it smarted his nuts beyond a puerile VHS prank, but the impact made his cock flex with an aftertaste of pleasure. The joy, the rush of nerves made his brain crave it. \n\n{Burn spark burning burning make the lights fizzle into the weave bright brighter again. Burning circles making new shapes dalliance with circles that dare no make themselves ellipses....}\n\nDid the spider read his mind? Maybe it simply jangled minds around like keys in the pocket of some big jorts. It did recoil and thwap his balls again. Max jerked back, involuntarily spitting pre from his tensed cloth-locked cock. The rabbit hollered, his lungs taking as much as he needed. Those hands kept his throbbing balls in an iron grip, those spider digits squeezing mercilessly. Max hyperventilated, the pain making him bend and contract in the name of the score nameless gods he kept himself indebted.\n\nIn the same instant an intrepid leg wormed its way with a flexible tentacle ease. Max wondered if they would delve deeper to his bollocks. The leg slipped by that pulled sack, making he rabbit twitch as the limb kissed a quivering star at the end of the path of his taint. A few experimental kisses against that puckered fissure before the whole of the leg pushed through that tight ring, spearing Max deeper until his stomach bulged from the contact. Then it would retract, starving him of the fresh leg-fisting before it thrusted deep once again: in-out, in-out. ``WOAH you're - is this fisting or fingering?--goddamn!''\n\nAt the other end of the rubber suit the hands returned to the task of squeezing and tormenting his nuts. The spider's hands slapped hard in successive turns, his balls aching from a gourmet agony. It hurt, but god did they make him hurt so exquisitely while getting fucked. His eyes rolled back in silent prayer while he thrashed, ``Give me another hit! I finally get the appeal of electronic trance!''\n\n{Yes does it reach through the weave? Clawing and rending teeth snagging with emptiness delicious delicious pretty nothingness must burn brighter a candlestick to burn....}\n\nHe had been mind fucked, but this treatment? A truly debauched immoral mind sloppy. His balls smacked in shifts with each successive thrust, Max struggled like a bound saint beloved by gays. That fist crashed intoo his testicles drove a spike of endorphin-rushing agony. Max throbbed, his cock loving erected as a spire, a memorial to testicular agony. The slapping ceased. This creature, this spider-thing, decided on something different. Their hands drew up to his rubber-tight chest, pulling the `skin' and letting it slap against his fur as their head waded through the water. The rabbit quivered, their human-sized head right up to his body. The spider's mouthparts, a mandible-like organic contraption, stood before his crotch. Max knew they could easily swallow or chomp off the lower half of his body - just as easily as Max could chew and nibble down those mouth parts. Yet he felt something like an incomprehensible massage machine, something suited for biologies beyond his own, something that managed to find a way to knead and rub his ball sack.\n\n{These primal churnings make little for the weave your sparks need those sparks if the candle must burn from the breeding spasms then light the wick light the wick.}\n\nMax thumped his bunny feet hard. In that instant the punch, that fertility-crushing hand turned intp a command, a harsh button that spready from His loins and spread everywhere. Max shuddered, howling weveral octaves. His rubber-clad loins strained beneath the diving suit, spasaming and twitching until his bulge flexed and shuddered with a complexity of mixed neural signals. He heaved as his penis flexed a damp spot of cream, marking his own wet suit white.\n\n``Y'know of all the things that touched my genitals in the sewer, that was the best indistinct thing that roughoused my genitals so far!''\n\n{...this collaboration has pleased has excelled, plucking together in the weave. Now haste calls from the webs, ugly spots that spot my weave. Let us leave leave us to your work my eraser erase the life kill the life erase the past...}\n\n``Woah-ho-okay!'' Max got lifted, to - what could he say? He was a dot, a pinprick in a vast tangle of things. He saw shapes of things, living things like his spider buddy - sometimes they felt closer to himself. Other things, Sam himself would have no word from his vast vocabulary to describe. Where they traveled it was to Max as if suddenly shapes gave a surprise hidden Bonus Shape that he never considered before. For some this would have taken a hamburger brain and crumbled it down to raw wet parts to spatter and spackle on the floor, forever changed. For Max this was ``Neat.''.\n\nHe was a slug pushed through a sluice gate, the lagomorph slipped through into some dank, even more poorly lit watery tunnel. Something done up in plastic splashed through the water, the crumple of rocks voicing their disturbed sleep. The stanch-red package's courier, a gray rain slicker man, stumbled at the sudden rush of air from Max's appearance. His well-shaven face and conservative haircut blinked dumbly, an animal caught in the act. It was clear from his saucer-eyed look rain slicker man never had anyone walk in on him like this. He jolted, ``What the fuck is that? A giant rat?''\n\nMax grunted, the wiggles of pain-and-pleasure neurons firing off as the rubber slapped against his crotch from adjusting. He shook his head, ``You're being wrong on purpose, you've clearly seen rats before, being a murder and all.''\n\nThe lagomorph plunged his scuba knife into the rain slicker's head.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "\tA glossy blob of mass strained and slithered along the massive wet concrete floor. The sickly electric light made the tiny undulating black mass seem much smaller against the immensity of the tunnel. Water, taken in offering from last night's storm, battered its way down. The small mass wiggled with the current until two stalks of ears popped up like shark fins, breaking the surface with a toothy smile.

The diving-suited figure shook the harsh water, slapping his flippers against the current until the toothy edge of his scuba knife shot out to catch a stray service ladder. The lagomorph slipped into the air with the glistening speed of a penguin, pulling himself hard onto the nearest run. By his digits his goggles and snorkel snapped away, revealing his shark teeth. Max slapped the nearest wall, ``You know, you'd think I'd catch one highly mutated mass murderer by now, but what do I know?'' he paused, ``Talking to myself reminds me of Sam's highly judgmental presence.''

He offered, but of course Sam had to turn down a good outing. `No way Max,' Sam in his memory said, `you know I hate public bathrooms. And I hate stormwater drains just as much, in case you need to remember why.'.

``Baby,'' Max kicked his feet back and forth, ``...hmm.'' He made a swift realization, ``You know I keep forgetting Sam is the one with the innate sense of direction and not me.''

He couldn't have swam that far out, he reasoned. Not like he never got lost before. Instinct his belly buddy, it would not fail to shimmy him out this predicament of his own design. Max bellied-in, slipping with the slickness of a mating season salmon out to ocean. The current would lead the way.

Not long before the rushing waterways made up his mind for Max. One turn begat another and slipped into another. Max likened it to a waterpark slide with the equal amount of abrasions and tetanus. But the current would run out. Max's frictionless rubber suit body wobbled and tumbled into a distinct pool. Flipping himself right side up but still floating, the lagomorph saw he floated in a section of the drainage where workers had yet to finish the tunnel. Hunks of rock remained hewed out in chunks of chocolate cake. Little construction lights stuck out from solid metal yellow stakes in the ground. The shape of the cavern with the tunnel leading into it gave it the appearance of a dank church.

``Little too clean for this city, don't you think?'' Max asked himself aloud.

As though to answer Max, his beady eyes picked up circles of disturbances in the muddy water. He observed the surface tension strain and ultimately collapse, rapid fleshy movement stabbing out of the water. A deep dark purple appendage slipped out, the twists and bends lending them an unusual dimension.  The rabbit awed before the oddly smooth appendage gripped him him by the ears, tossing him with a hard slap by the water. His face smarted before he rolled back over with his scuba knife in hand.

The stranger must have anticipated some kind of hard resistance, as a similar limb snatched his wrist. Max's various tendons strained against the limb of pure muscle, caught in an arm wrestling tournament for the decade.  Unlike its sibling, at the end of this limb sat something very hominid - a hand. He grunted as he bared a ferocious beaming grin, ``Upper-body workout! I'll have the proportions of a stunted Ken in no time!''

This appendage had no interest in playing fair, whatever game it played. Another hand-like appendage burst out the water to slip around his ankle, disturbing the unlucky rabbit's balance. Max flopped on his back with a splash, ``Hey you're supposed to tap in your crotchety yet beloved coach when you do that!''

Something spoke - no, spoke only put what happened in the broadest strokes. What happened was more Max's mind was an underarm and something - a mind, a sapience - rolled across it with the smoothness of deodorant.

{...a cantankerousness doled out in the softest of velvet gloves. A gossamer cast in rubber with a bladed heart, something in this doll of molars tugs the webs with its teeth, a flossing tincture from the weave, a fledgling an auteur in the weave pricking the shapes...}

``You know, when you talk it's like someone's licking my brain.'' he paused, squirming in the creature's restraints, ``I like the cut of your jib.''

Another limb burst out of the water, this one a foreleg. Its end carved sharply into a blade-like bone, a weapon of cartilage and collagen. Max whistled as air rushed by his face. He craned his neck to see his diving suit stretched out like obscene webbing from under his arm, the leg pinning him to the pool.

{A cutting and a sawing the clattering of the leoporidae's dentistry. The spottiness of the engorged depths reflects within this one's dots such tiny dots a predatory skull traverse we the equidistant strings a scorpion a spider transfiguration upon the embedded craniums cradled in the matrices lathe such shapes it cuts against time's compendium an auteur...}

Among the jabbering in his brain, a greater number of spindly limbs appeared from the water. Max grinned at the nasty sight. His touristy affections cost the rabbit as those limbs started skittering around his rubber-suited body. Max expected the jittery creeps that came with most spiders on a body (creepy yet horny), but like those awfully smooth hands the arachnid limbs had a glassblown texture to them. Max felt like he was getting caressed by a giant model kit or kitschy toy. ``You didn't need to drag me out here to flaunt social dogma and be violently inappropriate with me, fans do it with me every day!''

{...dogmatic pilgrimages cast asunder and apart allies foes allies again, bodies forged in the upside down rain until decircuited the strings this world brings apart a new configuration lovely lovey yes....}

Again more of the mind-numbing rambling licked across the nooks and crannies of his brain. At the same moment while he remained woefully staked to the cold stormwater pool, those spider legs started to wiggle past seams and openings in his skintight wetsuit. What laws, social and physical, they broke to bend and snap to worm over his arms and right around chest, Max almost had to give kudos. But with this smooth touchy-feely fest going on beneath his tight rubber suit, he felt this went beyond just a Lorne situation.

Max writhed in the creature's grip, the thought of torching billboards crossing his mind. His mouth ractically unhinging wide open, Max went for the nearest juiciest arachnid leg. Rather than retaliate like any good hunting beast, the riddle-chatting beast took up two non-hand limbs to dive into the gums with curious legs. The rabbit blew reverberating raspberries as they stretched out his mouth into an unrecognizable expression. ``Mffabe fake a foof if you're sfo fforny.''

{Its torquing forges a new cognizant not made of the equal halves but greater than before a sea dog a lepus, teeth that may snatch the unpleasant etchings crude drawers bad dilettantes rant their cudgel upon my weave but pluck pluck my beast shall...}

Somehow, this thing this creature took his suggestion in consideration - they took his words and made a completely different result out of it. Somehow they willed or arranged the rubber of his wet suit to mold into a full rubber hood, the eyes zippered shut. Max should feel grateful they left the mouthpiece open - just so they could continue playing with his mouth.

But the arachnid did not leave the rest of him unattended. Those legs wriggled through the tight confines of his body suit, prodding him with pesky inquisitive fingers. Max laughed through this ridiculous playtime. Between his legs the material strained as a pipe formed tight to the rubber tent of his belly. ``If I was wearing nothing this would be less awkward.''

{...upon the bones upon the skin wrapped tight and secreted away a body a flesh. Complexity for the weave the unsimplifaction a multiplicity created for its own self-love out of love comes self-loathing and self-love born again...}

The prodding inside his body started to get ecstatic, overly familiar with the root that laid vacuum sealed against his belly. Max wiggled helplessly in the grasp if that creature. Circumstances left him an articulate doll in the spindly limbs. Max's head surged like the blood going to his penis, nothing quite staying in the same place. Not an unusual state for the lagomorph, his own internal cacophony of self-deleting novels and wandering jabber matched with the alien poetic babble. The intrusive stream-of-consciousness took note of this.

{Daily the caretaker of the ice home the man fades. The life eats itself and burns, the god weaves again and again the web dying every day. The past for the past is in the past. You're in the past. Kill the life destroy the life erase the life.}

``Uhuh I'm sick of single panel newspaper comics too.'' Max struggled with the zipper that blocked out his eyes. Those arachnid legs remained very adamant, pushing his arm back with each strain. His arm seemed to finally give up, flopping dramatically for the creature to continue their spindly pawing. Taking advantage of his vaudeville scheme Max swept his arm to unzip one eye.

In the water barely less than a Sam away, a set of ruby eyes leered out of the water. The eyes could easily take up his whole head, to say less of the noir-or-crimson head that just skimmed the murky surface. Behind it the bulbous tank of a thorax loomed behind the head like a swiftly approaching planet.

``Anyone tell your eyeballs have that gumball-quality?'' he noted innocently.

Notes of amusement rang through Max. Something about the rabbit tickled this arachnid's fancy and literally tickled as the spider took a liking to tickling his body. Make no doubt, this thing was dangerous and the air dripped with a tension of who could kill who first. Depending on the advantage, either one of them switch and snap the other like kindling. Only thing stopping them was their own attention spans, their own fascinations. Both entwined around each other, two disparate planes crossing to suggest a fucked up shape.

{...it sees the circulations and circulars the mouth takes shape to hunger to hold what is a hole but a circle. Emptiness to form mouths to form the empty to circle again. Caressings of circles within circles the hunger to eat itself engorge itself yes yes...}

Max thought the pawing and `dirty talk' was fine but, ``Strictly a foreplay kind of guy, huh? Sorry but I like my random flings to include at least one form of dry humping.''

The one hand released his wrist. Max rubbed his cheek before unzipping his other eye. Few can handle Max at his most, not everyone had the mental stamina. The lagomorph prepared a crass string of `consolation' as that hand went around his crotch, ``Hey buddy, but if I wanted a handy I got two hands, two feet, and at least one ear if I strain my neck.''

{Do not mistake the delicatessen of my craving as hunger. The art serves itself, the weaving making it from clay from the malleable flesh to shape it from violence to weave the sculpture new webs born from the tessellations of synaptic harpings with the flesh...}

How delicately those uncanny fingers danced over his crotch as Max sighed in boredom. Softly, softly fingertips traced the curvature of his vacuum-sealed cucumber, tracing from the glans to the base. The spider took a trip down the ballooning curve that betrayed his scrotum. Max's asshole clenched as a fingertip traced the seam of his coin purse.

{Curvature yes yes this will do the curvature to show the infinity in shabby new dress...}

With uncanny speed that hand gripped the fleshy part that connected his testicles to his cock and pulled. Max's eyes went haywire when he felt the outline get stretched along with his sack. The pressure felt immense, making his balls throb as though he could feel every ounce of fluid in there. Max stiffened up, ``If you're threatening my nuts lemme just say the Humane society banned me for being both unbreedable and too hard to resist breeding!''

{...your paroxy of contradictions bring no shock no terror. This conflicting shape is familiar to the weave, crackles and fizzes in distant lights how familiar now so pretty pretty...}

Another hand came to the spider's aid, this one stroking Max's pulsating nuts with his backhand. In the same motion they delivered a hearty slap. Never in Max's life had he had such a personal attack to his testicles. Nauseating pain wrenched through his stomach, his muscles contracting. He arched his back, unable to resist gasping up the scale. It hurt, it smarted his nuts beyond a puerile VHS prank, but the impact made his cock flex with an aftertaste of pleasure. The joy, the rush of nerves made his brain crave it.

{Burn spark burning burning make the lights fizzle into the weave bright brighter again. Burning circles making new shapes dalliance with circles that dare no make themselves ellipses....}

Did the spider read his mind? Maybe it simply jangled minds around like keys in the pocket of some big jorts. It did recoil and thwap his balls again. Max jerked back, involuntarily spitting pre from his tensed cloth-locked cock.  The rabbit hollered, his lungs taking as much as he needed. Those hands kept his throbbing balls in an iron grip, those spider digits squeezing mercilessly. Max hyperventilated, the pain making him bend and contract in the name of the score nameless gods he kept himself indebted.

In the same instant an intrepid leg wormed its way with a flexible tentacle ease. Max wondered if they would delve deeper to his bollocks. The leg slipped by that pulled sack, making he rabbit twitch as the limb kissed a quivering star at the end of the path of his taint. A few experimental kisses against that puckered fissure before the whole of the leg pushed through that tight ring, spearing Max deeper until his stomach bulged from the contact. Then it would retract, starving him of the fresh leg-fisting before it thrusted deep once again: in-out, in-out. ``WOAH you're - is this fisting or fingering?--goddamn!''

At the other end of the rubber suit the hands returned to the task of squeezing and tormenting his nuts. The spider's hands slapped hard in successive turns, his balls aching from a gourmet agony. It hurt, but god did they make him hurt so exquisitely while getting fucked. His eyes rolled back in silent prayer while he thrashed, ``Give me another hit! I finally get the appeal of electronic trance!''

{Yes does it reach through the weave? Clawing and rending teeth snagging with emptiness delicious delicious pretty nothingness must burn brighter a candlestick to burn....}

He had been mind fucked, but this treatment? A truly debauched immoral mind sloppy. His balls smacked in shifts with each successive thrust, Max struggled like a bound saint beloved by gays. That fist crashed intoo his testicles drove a spike of endorphin-rushing agony. Max throbbed, his cock loving erected as a spire, a memorial to testicular agony. The slapping ceased. This creature, this spider-thing, decided on something different. Their hands drew up to his rubber-tight chest, pulling the `skin' and letting it slap against his fur as their head waded through the water. The rabbit quivered, their human-sized head right up to his body. The spider's mouthparts, a mandible-like organic contraption, stood before his crotch. Max knew they could easily swallow or chomp off the lower half of his body - just as easily as Max could chew and nibble down those mouth parts. Yet he felt something like an incomprehensible massage machine, something suited for biologies beyond his own, something that managed to find a way to knead and rub his ball sack.

{These primal churnings make little for the weave your sparks need those sparks if the candle must burn from the breeding spasms then light the wick light the wick.}

Max thumped his bunny feet hard. In that instant the punch, that fertility-crushing hand turned intp a command, a harsh button that spready from His loins and spread everywhere.  Max shuddered, howling weveral octaves. His rubber-clad loins strained beneath the diving suit, spasaming and twitching until his bulge flexed and shuddered with a complexity of mixed neural signals. He heaved as his penis flexed a damp spot of cream, marking his own wet suit white.

``Y'know of all the things that touched my genitals in the sewer, that was the best indistinct thing that roughoused my genitals so far!''

{...this collaboration has pleased has excelled, plucking together in the weave. Now haste calls from the webs, ugly spots that spot my weave. Let us leave leave us to your work my eraser erase the life kill the life erase the past...}

``Woah-ho-okay!'' Max got lifted, to - what could he say? He was a dot, a pinprick in a vast tangle of things. He saw shapes of things, living things like his spider buddy - sometimes they felt closer to himself. Other things, Sam himself would have no word from his vast vocabulary to describe. Where they traveled it was to Max as if suddenly shapes gave a surprise hidden Bonus Shape that he never considered before. For some this would have taken a hamburger brain and crumbled it down to raw wet parts to spatter and spackle on the floor, forever changed. For Max this was ``Neat.''.

He was a slug pushed through a sluice gate, the lagomorph slipped through into some dank, even more poorly lit watery tunnel. Something done up in plastic splashed through the water, the crumple of rocks voicing their disturbed sleep. The stanch-red package's courier, a gray rain slicker man, stumbled at the sudden rush of air from Max's appearance. His well-shaven face and conservative haircut blinked dumbly, an animal caught in the act. It was clear from his saucer-eyed look rain slicker man never had anyone walk in on him like this. He jolted, ``What the fuck is that? A giant rat?''

Max grunted, the wiggles of pain-and-pleasure neurons firing off as the rubber slapped against his crotch from adjusting. He shook his head, ``You're being wrong on purpose, you've clearly seen rats before, being a murder and all.''

The lagomorph plunged his scuba knife into the rain slicker's head.

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