TwistedTypist
Vivacious Visitor
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2015
Said the Fly to the Spider
by TwistedTypist
The best espionage agent in all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury has me chasing after dinosaur reports, Natasha thought. Why couldn’t he have dumped this on Coulson- it’s right up his team’s weird little alley. She slinked through the dusty atmosphere of the long-abandoned barracks with a smoothness that barely stirred the air. Her boots were silent on the cracked concrete floor. The walls creaked in weary protest against a late afternoon breeze.by TwistedTypist
The college kids who had called in the first reports of a strange animal in this condemned complex on the edge of their campus had been foolish to be poking around these old structures. The asbestos in their insulation was the only reason they hadn’t been torn down when the military base was shut down and the land repurposed for civilian use in the mid ‘90s. The built-by-the-lowest-bidder construction hadn’t held up well in the absence of maintenance. Between visible cracks and the smell of decay, Natasha doubted any of the sagging, tilted buildings would be standing in a decade’s time.
She wouldn’t have entered them herself if campus police hadn’t reported seeing something odd- though none of the officers were willing to risk going so far as to call what they had seen a dinosaur. It was hard to come to any other conclusion from their descriptions, though. Fury had somehow picked up on this in his mysterious all-knowing way and diverted Natasha’s travel plans for another mission to give her a day to check in on it. The college president being the brother of a Senator on the appropriations committee made it a transparent ploy for political brownie points, and the Russian agent was exasperated at the nonsense of it all. Hours of solitary poking around in empty buildings strewn with empty bottles and fast food wrappers had not improved her mood.
“Here, dino, dino,” she said, voice quiet as a breath, “Don’t worry, I just want to play Jurassic Park with you.” And with the hint of a smile, “I get to play raptor, though. You can be the lawyer who gets caught in the bathroom. Or the college kid in a cheap Halloween costume I’ll make wish he’d come up with a better prank.”
Lights on the tubular taser units that wrapped around her wrists like ostentatious bracelets glowed a faint blue in the deepening dusk. She made no effort to dim or turn them off, as it was unlikely a college prankster would be able to notice her before she detected him, much less pose any sort of threat. And if it actually was some animal that was responsible for the reports, she hoped that the cobalt luminescence might attract it. Her fellow agents referred to her tasers as the “Widow’s Bite,” and they packed more than enough punch to stun any animal short of an elephant. One quick shock would be all that was required to take down her quarry, be it human or animal. If it was a human that was wasting her time, it would probably end up getting a second shock as an educational aid on the cost of being an idiot.
After clearing the bottom floor Natasha eased her way up dilapidated stairs to the upper story. She grimaced as a cobweb caught in her thick, shoulder-length red hair. If it had been a tripwire she’d have been reduced to nothing more than a wet crimson splatter across the graffiti-covered walls. Getting in the habit of being sloppy on a job that’s beneath me, she thought, damned good way to end up with “Natasha Romanoff” carved into the memorial wall at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy when the stakes are higher. Reaching the top of the stairs she slipped from room to room with an almost predatory efficiency, clearing each in turn.
Mentally ticking off the building as clear, she took a step toward the stairs and considered which structure to investigate next. A low creak from downstairs stopped her cold. Probably just the old building continuing on its steady path to collapse, especially as she’d already cleared the lower story. But an insistent tightness in the pit of her stomach and a tingle at the back of her neck disagreed with that thought. She’d have died a thousand times over if she made a habit of ignoring her intuition in her line of work. No, something was down there. Something that had gone to the effort of concealing itself as she’d passed by. Even if she’d been sloppy by her standards, no large animal would’ve been able to hide well enough to escape her notice. This was something more clever.
Natasha drew one of her pistols as she made her way back down the stairs. Nonlethal would still be preferable, but clever meant dangerous. It wouldn’t do to confront dangerous with only tasers at the ready. The alternatives to an animal sped through her mind: Scared college kid? No, would have been worse at hiding than an animal. Someone who came in after I cleared the downstairs? Possible but unlikely. Something that Fury might have suspected but didn’t mention because he didn’t have enough evidence and trusts my ability to adapt on the fly? Just like him, simultaneously complimentary and frustrating. That opened up the possibility of something genetically-engineered or someone with a kind of cloaking device or camouflage ability. Now she hated the mission even more.
She re-cleared the downstairs quickly, avoiding the straightest route to where she was sure the sound had come from. If she had been heard or seen going upstairs, coming from that direction would risk walking into an ambush. Instead, she worked her way around the interconnected rooms until she was ready to enter the potentially occupied one from the opposite side. Catching whoever it was from behind would give her a moment’s advantage, and a moment was all she would need to put him down one way or the other. Her chest rose with a deep breath and she entered like a dark flash, her skintight black bodysuit flitting through the deepening shadows.
There was nothing. Her sharp, well-trained green eyes scanned the room again. Natasha didn’t lower her pistol. If it was cloaking of some kind, she’d need to pick up his location before he had a chance to fully recover from her surprise entrance. Darting into the darkest corner, she kept her head and eyes moving, alert for any shimmer or outline that could betray a cloaking device. Two white eyes appeared behind her in the dark, and the shadow engulfed the Russian spy.
A clawed black hand closed around the wrist of her gun hand. A powerful twist, a loud snap, a burst of agony and her gun clattered to the ground. Her wrist bent unnaturally, grotesque and lumpy under her tactical glove. Before she could react, an irresistible force slammed into the middle of her back. Natasha grunted as she was flung across the room into the wall. She was spinning around and reaching for her other gun immediately, running on combat instincts. As fast as she was, though, the pistol had barely cleared her thigh holster before her hand was immobilized in a vice-like grip and her damaged wrist was clutched painfully. Natasha’s eyes widened as she found herself staring into a massive mouth arrayed with innumerable fangs bared in a wide smile. This wasn’t a dinosaur, she knew. It was far worse.
“We were expecting someone to come around our new home,” it said, sibilant voice full of gleeful malice, “but we weren’t expecting someone so nice to look at.” A long snakelike tongue ran over the fangs, ropes of drool dripping as the pressure on her good wrist bore down. The joint popped like a knot of wood in a fireplace. Natasha whimpered low in her throat and the white abysses that were the thing’s eyes narrowed and turned up at the edges in delight. “We’re called Venom. And who might you be?”
She had known what it was as soon as she’d seen the teeth. They had made periodic appearances in her nightmares ever since she’d seen a file on the creature in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database of extraterrestrial creatures. It was a symbiote, a black fluid thing that would bond to a human host. The product of this was a mockery of humanity, the host’s animalistic traits driven to the edges of control with the symbiote providing the strength, cunning, and lethality to carry out most any urges. Natasha felt the agony in her useless wrists and couldn’t tear her eyes away from the teeth in front of her face, wishing for the first time that S.H.I.E.L.D. issued agents cyanide capsules like HYDRA did.
“Not talking to us, little spider?” the creature said, impossibly long tongue slathering lecherously over the hourglass-shaped belt buckle Natasha wore as a small affectation. “But you look so desperate for attention, with that zipper pulled so low on your chest.”
She regretted her one other indulgence- the perpetual pulling of her bodysuit’s zipper down to expose a deep expanse of cleavage between her high, firm breasts. Regret gave way to disgust as the beast’s thick prehensile tongue dove into the opening with a wet squelch. Foul-smelling saliva ropey and gelatinous as a large dog’s splattered up into her face, across her chest and neck, and most stomach-turning of all, down into her suit where it was squeezed tight against her flesh and began to run down her stomach. The spy retched and tried to pull back, but the ink-black monster’s grasp on her ruined wrists made pulling free impossible and agonizing to attempt.
“Yesss,” Venom said, jagged outlines of pupil-less eyes seeming to pulse and roil, “Sweat. Fear. Pain. Helplessness. A tasty, tightly wrapped little treat for us.” Its lascivious tentacle of a tongue pumped into her cleavage. Her suit’s strong zipper resisted sliding down and the material of her outfit held her breasts firmly in place, squeezed tight around the tongue as it delved deeply over and over again. Natasha’s cheeks flushed red as her hair as the situation processed in her mind. I’m being titfucked by the tongue of a walking nightmare.
The flush of embarrassment drove her to rage as the sloppy sounds of each thrust were accompanied by even more semen-thick drool being forced down into her suit. The first wet globs of it were already running down across the mound of her sex. Natasha had once calmly dislocated every finger of the only man who had ever tried to use her chest as a masturbation tool, and this creature would learn as well that there was a price to be paid for tormenting a black widow.
“Having to use your tongue because you’re a dickless freak?” she said, the natural huskiness of her voice adding an extra layer of contempt. Venom’s all-fangs smile widened as he tightened his grip on her wrists. Pain pulsed a wave of lightheadedness over her, but she smirked ever so slightly. His grip was tight enough that his hands were indenting her skin deeply- right at the contact points for both sets of her Widow’s Bites.
“So the busty little spider can talk,” Venom said, “Then why doesn’t she tell us-“
He didn’t finish the thought. With fluid ease Natasha drove both knees up, slamming contact points carefully located on both of her gloves. There was a loud snap and a smell of scorched electronics. The emergency overrides hit, both wrist tasers emptied their entire charges in one pulse. Every human muscle underneath the alien symbiote clenched tight at once as Venom was hit with enough current to kill an unprotected man. Its jaw slammed shut, sharp-pointed teeth breaking against one another from the force of the impact. The long tongue between her breasts spasmed uncontrollably, severed cleanly from Venom’s mouth. It curled and writhed more like a snake than ever, black ichor ejaculating across Natasha’s face and the wall behind her in a jet from the sheared end before it fell limp to the floor.
Venom staggered, releasing her wrists and raising its hands to its face. More black blood welled from between its fingers, through the shattered mess of its mouth. His scream of pain and fury rang in Natasha’s ears like a hellish banshee’s wail. She was falling, the pain in her wrists from being struck by her knees causing her vision to fade out for a moment. She hit hard, hands unresponsive to the reflex instinct to break her fall. Her stomach heaved and she vomited. The act cleared her head enough for the urge to escape to take over. The spittle and gore splattered Russian was up on her feet quickly, stumbling towards the nearest door.
“NO,” came the wet, gurgling voice from behind her, “NO YOU DON’T.”
She leaned forward and tried to break into a run, hoping she wouldn’t trip or sway and bang off of the door frame. Two thumping steps behind her and that hope became moot as she was driven to the concrete under a crushing weight.
“You hurt us,” Venom hissed into her ear,” You hurt us and now we’re not going to play nice anymore.” With each word a spatter of rancid black blood rained across the side of her face. Natasha tried to kick out from under it as much in revulsion as self-preservation. She lacked the leverage to shift him from atop her back, though, and the difference in their sizes was too great to force him off. She kicked harder, hoping to luck and desperation.
“Normally we like it when they squirm and fight,” Venom said, “but you hurt us and we can’t let you do that again.” The weight on her back shifted and her right leg was stopped mid-kick, held firmly by the knee and ankle. A grunt of exertion from the monster and Natasha heard herself scream as her tibia and fibula snapped, bent at a right angle like a broken toothpick. She shuddered as Venom took hold of her foot and wrenched, muscle and tendon ripping audibly as the foot was turned backward. Blood from where broken bone had pierced skin ran hot under her bodysuit.
“And now the other one,” Venom said, and Natasha tried to will herself into losing consciousness. The world was not that merciful, and she felt him grab above and below her left knee. He pulled hard and the joint gave out with a ripping sound and sensation as cartilage tore apart. Her vision began to fade again, and she felt unconsciousness finally trying to take her.
“You know what the most fun part of playing with little spiders is?” Venom asked, manipulating Natasha’s loose lower appendage playfully. He continued, not waiting for or expecting an answer.
“Tearing their legs off.”
A powerful pull that made his earlier exertions seem like casual flicks of his hands, and Natasha felt the sickening, unbearable feeling of skin tearing. Muscles and tendons popped, and the pressure was suddenly gone as her lower leg tore completely free. She passed out in the middle of a throat-scouring scream.
Blessed unconsciousness didn’t last long. A stream of moisture across her face and chest, and she blinked her way awake. In a moment she was able to focus and see what had drawn her back into the world of throbbing, all-encompassing agony. Venom was standing over her, legs spread wide, pissing on her from a foot-long squirming blob of tar black semi-solid horror that could only be his cock. Overcome with shame and horror, she opened her mouth to gasp. The appendage bent quickly on its own and before she could react her mouth was filled to overflowing with the creature’s urine.
Natasha retched, urine and bile pouring from her mouth and spraying from her nose. The rain from above stopped as Venom laughed. As the stomach contractions had pulled her head up, she noticed that her location hadn’t changed. She couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes. The only differences from before were that she was now on her back and that a fleshy, putrescent gray tourniquet had been tied around the stump of her left knee. Venom must have used his own severed tongue to keep her from bleeding out. The realization was almost enough to make her regret having been responsible for it being cut off. Death would have at least been a release.
“Good, little spider is awake again,” Venom said, “I’m glad that we get to play more. And it was ever so rude to spit out a free drink from your host, you know. We simply must teach you your manners.”
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s lips quivered and moved, but her brain was beyond forming speech. She edged back from Venom, shoulders and elbows and hips inching her along pathetically. The beast chuckled and covered the distance between them in a step, casually reaching down and pulling both of Natasha’s shoulders from their sockets. She tried to scream again, but her swollen throat was able only to let the barest whimper escape. Venom looked down into her face.
“You seem to like opening those pretty lips for me, now don’t you?” His massive sex organ writhed and throbbed as he spoke.
Natasha may have been beyond speaking, but as long as she had breath the spy would have her warrior’s pride. She bared her teeth at him, eyes on his lewdly frolicking manhood before flicking up to his face to make sure that he understood the message. The ruin of his tongue running over the craggy ends of his broken teeth indicated that he did.
“No, I don’t think you’ll be biting anything,” he said, “Especially as you still owe me. As they say, an eye for an eye,” he reached down and forced his thumb into Natasha’s mouth, pulling down to force it open with little effort even against her strongest efforts to snap her teeth shut on the digit. His other hand went to the back of her head. “And a tooth for a tooth.” Removing his thumb from her mouth he pulled her head forward and drove her jaw up simultaneously.
Natasha’s mouth burst into a sea of blood and ivory as every tooth in her head broke. The soft flesh of her lips was shredded as sharp shards ripped through them. She swallowed agony as fragments that had broken inward tore their way down her throat. A wet, lumpy stew of gore slopped to the floor as her broken jaw fell open. The claw on the back of her head tightened in her hair. Her eyes, having closed reflexively at the impact, opened just in time to see the amorphous python of a cock drive forward. Venom thrust his hips and pulled her head forward onto him.
Oral sex was not something that Natasha had experience with. Never willing to put herself in a submissive position, her sexual encounters typically involved her taking the dominant role. She had no idea how to properly relax her throat to minimize gagging and discomfort from something being inserted into it. Thus it was a new and overwhelming sensation to feel a girthy tube stretch her torn lips wide, crush her tongue against the floor of her mouth, and drive into the back of her throat like a punch.
She gagged hard. Throat muscles clenched on the invading cock as it bulged her neck obscenely. Another pull on her head along with a hip thrust and her broken jaw dislocated, making the abused redhead resemble a grotesque caricature of a feeding snake. Sweat stood out on her forehead as she began trembling from lack of oxygen. The pulse in her neck throbbed around the cock that had pushed all the way down to the hollow of her throat. Her lips were forced all the way down into contact with Venom’s lower stomach. He reached under her with his free hand, grasping the zipper pull between her breasts. Dragging it down, he furthered the humiliation as her tits hung exposed while she choked on alien cock.
“So tight on us,” Venom said, admiring his prey, “A mouth and body that should have belonged to a whore, not a vicious little spider.” He ground his hips hard against her face, relishing the wet crunch as her nose broke. Not until she began to turn a shade of blue did he drag her off of him, drool-shining cock standing long and cruel as Natasha lay gasping for air on the ground. Her lovely green eyes were the only remaining trace of beauty in her ravaged face. His libido raged hotter, as it always did when he had defiled something that had been lovely. Those eyes of hers had a faraway, glassy expression now, and Venom knew he had precious little time before she would no longer be worth playing with.
Natasha coughed up red foam and was unable to swallow through the agony in her throat. She prayed to any god that would listen to let her drown on the blood running down into her lungs and end this. Venom flipped her over onto her stomach and she grunted in feeble dismay as she continued to draw breath. Everything was pain, and she had lost awareness of all but her and the beast above her. She could no longer move, legs and arms too damaged to obey her mind’s commands. Maybe Venom would at least make it quick, then. But she didn’t bother to hope for that.
“I think our time together is almost over, little spider,” Venom said. He looked her over, facedown in her misery, shoulders misshapen lumps, one leg a broken child’s toy of wrong angles and the other a stub ending in a coagulated stump. There wasn’t much left to ruin. Then her hips shook slightly with a quiver of pain, and he knew what he wanted. Grabbing her under the chin, he bent the spy back until she could see into his eyes.
“Kind of you to offer,” he said, relishing her momentary look of confusion before his hardness pressed between the inviting curves of her bodysuit-sheathed ass. Her eyes flickered, the closest response to terror that such a broken being could manage. The tip of Venom’s cock shaped itself into a point and he slammed himself forward, feeling the material rip and then the muscles of Natasha’s virgin sphincter do the same.
Bent back almost double, the tiny shiver Natasha gave at the tearing open of her asshole in no way reflected the magnitude of what she felt. Compared to everything else that had happened since Venom had attacked her, the pain was nothing new. But as she looked into the slavering face of the beast she felt her soul die as every ounce of pride and dignity and self-worth that had rooted her existence was dissolved. She slipped from being the Black Widow into just a beaten, broken woman being raped in the ass.
Venom saw the subtle shift in her features. Giving a powerful pump into her, he heard the Russian’s hips break as he seated the entirety of his enormous cock deep up into her bowels. His triumph complete, the monster drove a long index finger claw into each one of her eyes. Beauty popped from perfection into a viscous glop running down her cheeks like gelatinous tears. At the sight of it he came, hot alien sperm spurting into his sex toy while she shuddered beyond coherence or sanity. Having emptied himself, the tip of his hardness reshaped itself into a barbed hook. He withdrew from Natasha Romanoff’s ass, taking a long length of her intestinal tract with him.
Reaching down, he slipped the entrails off of his penile hook and the appendage melted back into the rest of him. With a pull like that one would use to start a lawnmower, he dragged several feet of intestine out of the gory mess that had been a woman’s ass. Keeping her head pulled back, he wrapped a length around her throat, looping the dripping tube back over itself into a simple knot. The sputtering, guttural noises as she slowly choked to death were music to his ears as he stared into the open holes of Natasha’s eye sockets until she was finally still. He licked across his broken teeth with a tongue that was already starting to regain some of its former length. Several of the fractured fangs fell out; making way for replacements that would grow in over the next few hours. Venom rose to his feet and beheld his conquest one last time before turning to leave.
A small, tinny crackling sound stopped him. Quickly locating its source, he removed the tiny speaker bud from the perversely hog-tied corpse’s ear and listened.
“crrkt…Natasha…fsst… missed check in. If we don’t shkkt… five minutes, agents Morse and May are krrkt… your last position. Copy? Nat…crrkt…”
Venom grinned as he crushed the ear bud. Perhaps he would have one more bit of fun before moving on to a new temporary shelter...
