Posted by logger on January 01, 2010 at 11:05 [67.150.142.223]
A little longer story, some of you might enjoy.
Some fellow at the University down south had contacted me to guide an entomologist out into Dreary’s woods. He told me she was visiting from Canada and was very interested in reports of the so-called howling spiders of Dreary’s woods. He could barely keep the scoff from his voice as he said it, the very existence of these things being questioned at higher levels of education. My contention, they just didn’t know where to look, or those that did know where to look didn’t know how to survive them. The entomologist, named Emily Harrad, called me later in the day and arranged to pick me up at my home near the woods.
Emily Harrad hung up the phone, a mix of emotions flooding her. World-renowned in her field, she was looking for that one great thing, a significant discovery, something overlooked or un-imagined within the professional community that she could claim as her own. New species of fruit fly were a dime a dozen, almost literally. Emily wanted to make a name for herself firmly. She had traveled to five continents and two dozen countries in search of this elusive critter, whatever it might turn out to be. Finally after ten years since receiving her doctorate, she was about to embark on this leg of her journey, a scant hundred miles from her home. If nothing else, it gave her the opportunity to spend some time in her nearly empty but very expensive downtown apartment.
Emily got dressed carefully. She looked young, younger than her thirty three years, and an active life kept her reasonably trim, although she was starting to put on weight, mostly just becoming more shaped like a woman. She almost giggled as she toweled off getting out of the shower, selecting pink satin bikini brief panties with lighter pink polka dots and a sturdy matching bra. She pulled on snug fitting khaki shorts (slightly shorter than mid thigh, “short-shorts” styled, a thick pink cotton t-shirt that hugged her trim torso, and finished things with a short flannel shirt that she buttoned only partway and tied off above her waist, white knee socks and sturdy lug soled hiking boots. She chose against wearing any sort of hat, the local environs and area she was going to being so heavily wooded and noted for fog that she was unconcerned about solar protection. She gave herself a final glance in the mirror before she headed out. She was pleased to note that a number of words (cute, perky, nice, pretty) came into her mind upon seeing her reflection ahead of “brilliant world-renowned entomologist.”
Miss Emily Harrad was supposed to meet me at my house about 0900. From there we would rive about thirty miles up into the Scythe River watershed, a remote valley right at the confluence of the north and south forks of the Scythe. The actual creek of the valley was called Howler creek, named I suppose for the spiders. The configuration of this valley was such that it was bounded on three sides by the forks of the river, and on the fourth side by a high peak with cliffs. Meaning it was pretty much cut off from the rest of the world. There was one way in, short of using a helicopter or high powered inflatable boat, and damn few people that knew about it; fewer still that had entered and exited alive. I’m one of the few.
When Miss Harrad arrived at my house in a sporty little Jeep Cherokee, I was pleasantly surprised. Cherubic face, long soft curly brown hair, a slightly pneumatic figure that simply meant she was round and very girly shaped. Her clothing; tight t-shirt, little booty shorts, white knee socks pulled all the way to her knees, enhanced this shape. Very cute, sort of sexy, quite an attractive girl. We introduced ourselves and loaded in her car for the drive to the Forks of the Scythe.
“Why are you bringing that with you?” she asked, indicating the blood hook I was about to throw in the back of her car.
“It’s for the spiders,” I said. “If they get up and about, it’s to fight them off.” As we drove out, she asked a little more about them, until I think she started getting annoyed with my answers. It was a cool, foggy morning, and she drove carefully but quickly, meaning we arrived far too soon. It was only a short walk to Howler valley, but you really had to know the way. Miss Harrad parked the car, we got out and loaded our day-packs with water and snacks. My objective was to get in and out as quickly as possible. I noticed her loading some small empty jars.
“What are those for?” I asked.
“Specimen jars. In the event we actually encounter any of these spiders.” She caught my smirk. “Oh, what? I know, these jars are far too small…”
“Once you see one of these things, you’ll most likely just try to forget they exist.” We set out hiking.
In short order we arrived in the valley, and I let her go in front. She was wearing kind of ass tight pants, which I appreciated as she sashayed through the dense forest in front of me. That was about all I was appreciating at the moment, though, because this place was giving me the creeps in the worst kind of way.
“So you’ve actually seen the arachnids gigantean?” she asked as she stumbled across a big log.
“If that’s what you’re calling howler spiders, yes, I have. I’ve got the scars to prove it!”
“Now Robert, sir, I told you up front. I’m a scientist. I don’t need to be hearing those sorts of stories. We both know there’s never been an authenticated attack by these gentle giants on...What was that?”
I knew what she meant, the sort of clacking noise the damn creepers make when they scent you, when they know they have you, a bunch of them getting together, trying to circle behind you, cut off your escape. They get so excited they start clicking their fangs or mandibles or whatever you call them together, oozing thick ropy strings of spider saliva or venom or whatever the hell it is...
I twirled the razor sharp blood hook in my hands. “That’s your precious arachnids gigantean,” I said, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice. There’s those that says they can sense fear, but I doubt that. I do believe they can tell when a person panics, and they figure that’s the easiest person to bring down. “Half a dozen or so by the sounds of it. I’d stick here to the clear area...They’re calling their mates.”
“Oh, don’t be silly Robert! Come, let’s see...” I was looking at her butt again, at the twin globes of soft flesh quivering beneath her thin, worn khaki pants as she climbed onto an especially tall log right in front of me, her slacks slightly wedged between her cheeks, bisected by the outline of the crotch panel of her bikini panties.
“Miss Harrad, I don’t think we should be here! It’s dangerous, for both of us!”
“Now Robert, I won’t hear another word.” She turned and smiled at me, her dark curly hair falling about her shoulders, shining in a ray of sunlight that had penetrated the forest canopy, perfect white teeth behind soft pink lips, faint blush to her cheeks. “I guess if you’re that frightened...”
“There’s a line between frightened and scared,” I said, “and I’m scared!”
“...I was going to say, you could wait for me at the jeep, and I’ll be along. I’m so excited to have the opportunity to get some actual photos in the wild.”
No way was I going to leave her alone; I might as well be signing her death sentence.
“What exact experience do you have with howlers?” I asked.
“I’ve read all of Doctor Spencer’s research, before he was killed. I’ve also heard the silly legends.”
“About how they spring with all eight legs and curl up and whack you in the head like a damn coconut and knock you out and attack you, laying open your face, trying to get your eyes first, then going for your, er, privates? You heard about all that?”
“It’s all very basic, really, the parallels between taking prey’s eyes and genitals, it’s straight from the bible. I admit they’re fearsome looking, but...”
At that point I caught a blur moving out of the corner of my eye and swung my arm to knock her feet out from under her. I threw my blood hook down so I could catch her as she fell, which I did, neatly.
“Robert! Really! You put me down this instant!” She made to slap at my face, so I set her on her feet.
“You didn’t see that!” I asked her. “That was one of your damn precious Howlers, trying to knock you off the log!”
“Oh really, Robert...” Another one came flying at her from behind. In a blink I bent down, grabbed my blood hook (which is slightly bigger , but otherwise similar to a bank hook, which “most folks around here calls it a sling blade”), put it up and reached behind her and hooked it, slicing all it’s legs off of one side and splattering the body against a tree.
“What the...” This time she believed me that there was something; for one thing there were four hideously long, hairy, bloody legs quivering in the leaf litter on the floor.
“Oh my God,” she said quietly. “Is THAT what you’re calling an arachnids gigantean?”
“Howler spiders, yep, that’s sure as shit one of them.”
“Oh dear...” she put her hands in her crotch and I saw a wet spot appear in the khaki fabric of her shorts and streams of pee started to run down her trembling thighs.
“That’s much larger than the ones Dr. Spencer brought back.”
“I’m not even sure we’re talking about the same thing,” I said. “Okay, you stick with me. We walk, don’t run, we walk back to the jeep. You stay close to me and whatever you do, don’t run. That really freaks them out and they get this sort of bloodlust thing going on. Any of them comes after us, I’ll take ‘em on, but you have to stay close to me! Okay?”
I heard her stomach grumble and her face turned red.
The clacking noise around us got a little louder, as more spiders came to join in the fray. I began stalking my way through the underbrush, eyes darting back and forth, blood hook at the ready, hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up, dragging the slightly wet Miss Harrad close behind me. She had one hand on my elbow at all times, enough to assure me she was there, not enough to hinder me if I suddenly had to...
I heard the distinctive yet subtle whirring of one flying at us from behind, and instinctively went to the ground, pushing the blood hook in front of me with one hand and grabbing Miss Harrad and throwing her down with the other so I was on top of her.
“You stay put,” I whispered in her ear, noting her hair smelled very nice and clean. “You cover your face with your hands and close your legs as tight as you can. Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.” She nodded, eyes shining brightly with tears, and followed my instructions as I stood up.
It had worked for me before, although I truly believe it just got me in the mood more so than doing anything to the spiders, but I rose and called them out. I spit on the ground and began.
“Gonna have me some SPIDER SOUP tonight!” I started in a low grumble. “Nothing makes me feel better than killing a few spiders! Love to kill spiders, hack their goddam hairy ass legs off, use their pussy fat ass butts for baseball battin’ practice. Fried, boiled, barbecued! Get ‘em good and crispy, oh yeah I forgot...” and that was enough.
Here came one on a dead run, not flying, which gave me the heads up he was either after Miss Harrad, or he was a decoy for a flying attack. I knew the only hope I had was to get them to attack now, before they got more of their buddies. They’re big and they’ll eat until they barf, then they’ll fight for the chance to re-eat the barf, but the two of us would make a meal for several dozen of them at least. I watched him approach, his black eyes gleaming at the ends of their stalks, then heard the whir of one coming in from behind me via airmail. I ducked, hooked him and re-directed his bleeding, disemboweled corpse at the one on the ground, neatly smashing him to mush with his brother’s body. I had their scent now, killing two for one, and I was ready to play.
“Come ON you pussy goddam bastards,” I hollered. Whir from the left; blade up to neatly slice him in half. Part of him landed right next to Miss Harrad, and I saw the crotch of her tight fitting pants, already wet, re-darken as her bladder expelled more of its contents into her pants. That was gonna bring them in for sure, get a pee soaked girl out there and the spiders come on a run.
There he was, oh, clever, coming out of a tree on his string, headed right for Miss Harrad. Dumb fuck should have just dropped, I’d haven killed him anyway, but this way I was able to sort of catch him on my blade sideways and launch him against a tree, where he splattered into an oozing brightly colored mess soaking into the bark.
“Come on, come on,” I said. “Sweet little girl right here, get her while she’s wet...”
Two whirring in from the right; stick the first, slice the second, a third at my feet but no match for a pair of Georgia Giants in size 15. Now I had spider blood on my boots. A brief respite, a lull as they seemed to be considering things. Two had missed, eight had died. None had had any success, no blood drawn from us. “Gonna come back here with a big ass can of Raid,” I said. “Black Flag for the Spiders, you’re ALL going down, I’ll use a damn helicopter, defoliate your butts, turn you into a bunch of...”
Whirring all around me, and the clacking of their fangs got louder. Right, left, straight ahead, I had to sort of twirl in place and sliced all three of the bastards, although the last one I only trimmed a couple legs off of him and he sort of tried to crawl toward Miss Harrad. I pinned him to the ground with the handle of my blood hook and stared him in the face for a moment, then crushed his head and kicked his still quivering abdomen into the bushes.
There were still some spiders around, and they were none too happy, so no more attacks for the time being. I kept a vigilant eye out, then knelt down next to Miss Harrad.
“It’s okay now, Miss Harrad.” I said. “You can open your eyes now and stand up.”
“Oh Robert,” she whimpered, looking up at me very frightened and quite vulnerable but lovely. “I’m so frightened!”
“If you’ve still got your specimen jars, we could at least bring back some body parts...”
She grimaced as she sat up. “I am so wet right now, all I can think of is a hot bath and some clean underpants!”
“Well, now let’s just go back to the jeep and we’ll see what we can do.”
There were no more spiders, not today, not for us. I always heard, if you kill at least ten of them, the rest will leave you alone, generally. Now I do not know if that means each person in your party has to kill ten, or one has to kill at least ten for each member of the party, or as long as ten spiders get squashed, the rest lose interest. But we got back to the jeep okay, and I was damn glad she had rented the model with the hard top, not wishing to spend any time checking under the dash board and seats for possible spiders.
Emily saw the jeep in the distance and nearly burst into tears of relief. She had never been so frightened in her life, and to see the stalwart vehicle sitting there gleaming in a brief moment of sunshine. She was a little chagrined at having wet herself, her bladder control seeming to have abandoned her altogether. And now, just as they approached the car, her stomach suddenly cramped. It was like there was a huge weight in her bowels; she let her sphincters suddenly relax, and fresh warmth spread in her crotch as she peed her panties for the fourth or fifth time, she’d lost count.
She uncontrollably and loudly broke wind, then her stomach started to purge itself. She felt a small weight in the seat of her underpants, then a warm mush sort of started to spread; up her buttocks, some between her legs, some leaked out of her panties and started to spread down her thighs. Emily leaned against the roof of her car. “Oh my,” she said weakly, and filled her panties again. It felt like she was wearing a bucket of warm mud attached to the seat of her pants. She looked at Robert, her guide, her rescuer, her hero weakly. He sort of nodded and pulled his fleece jacket off. He opened the passenger door for her, took her keys, and spread his jacket on her seat. “We need to get out of here now,” he said simply, and gently lowered her into the passenger seat. Emily squirmed and gasped as she settled into the watery mess in her panties.
“Oh, Robert, I’m so sorry I ever doubted you,” she said as I drove away. “If only I had listened, maybe I wouldn’t be so embarrassed right now!”
“Now, Miss Harrad, them spiders, they’re plenty crafty and mean. I believe they sort of trick a person into not believing in them, not at least until you see them for sure. We’ll get you back to my house and you can get squared right away.”