As Sharpy continued to revel in his twisted fantasies, the room was filled with the sickening sounds of his pleasure and the muffled screams from the videos playing on his laptop. He was so engrossed in his perverted delights that he didn’t notice the small, almost imperceptible movement in the shadows above him.

‘When the spider strikes… I must move quickly’

Nana’s eyes, glowing with a cold, venomous light, watched every twitch of his muscles, every ragged breath. Her rage was a living thing, a beast that fed on his suffering. She had been waiting, biding her time, and now the moment had come.

With a swift, silent movement, a small opening in Nana’s spider abdomen parted, revealing a horde of tiny, pink spiders. They surged forth, their glossy bodies glistening in the dim light, spreading into every dark corner of the filthy apartment. Sharpy, lost in his sick fantasies, didn’t notice the creeping shadows or the faint, eerie scuttling sounds that filled the room.

“Ahh~…Nana-chan…My love!” He continued to babble, his attention riveted on the macabre scenes playing out on his laptop. He thought his deepest desires were finally coming true, little realizing that he’d just sealed his fate.

He never felt the first bite.

Just a tingle at the side of his neck. Like the faintest kiss.

But it wasn’t a kiss.

It was a gift from her.

The pink spider, no bigger than a coin, had crawled from the ceiling’s cobweb lattice, its eight glassy eyes reflecting the pale flicker of the porno still playing on the cracked laptop screen. It found the nape of Sharpy’s neck just as he leaned in, mouth open, panting like a dog. It reared up on soft legs, plunged its fangs into his skin, and pumped its venom in with surgical elegance.

The change was immediate.

“!!!” Sharpy’s vision shifted.

Not blurred—not yet. No, at first it was subtle. The edges of his sight smudged, like oil in water. Sounds elongated, slowed. The moans from the laptop deepened into monstrous guttural sobs. A cold sweat broke out over his body.

His fingers… wouldn’t move.

“What… the fuck…?”

The cheap beer slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor in a splash of piss-colored fizz. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. The floor heaved under him like the apartment was breathing. He slammed against the wall, head smacking drywall, vision doubling.

Then came the whispers.

A gentle tch tch tch tch… like claws on glass.

Then louder. Then all around. Then the shadows twitched.

He wasn’t alone.

In every corner of the room, they scurried—hundreds of them—tiny pink spiders emerging from cracks in the ceiling, peeling out of electrical sockets, sliding from between the couch cushions. They flooded the floor like a tide of blood and silk, their legs clicking, tapping, scratching.

“NO! FUCK NO! WHAT IS THIS—WHAT IS THIS?!” Sharpy screamed, trying to crawl backward, but his body was going numb—starting from the neck, spreading down. His heart thumped once, twice, then raced into a hammerbeat of panic.

Then came the sound.

“Ahh~” A single, long-drawn moan.

Not from the laptop.

From behind him.

Like a woman’s voice dragged backward through hell. A blur. A smear in the corner of his vision. Something moved. He twisted his head, slow and jerky, and saw—

Nothing.

But the smell hit him next. A perfume like rotted flowers and venom, the scent of death sprayed in something sweet to hide the rot. His gut turned.

“H-Hello…?” he whimpered.

“Ahh~” The moan again—closer.

Tch! Tch!

Then, from the shadows of the hallway, a figure began to emerge.

She didn’t walk. She glided. Her limbs didn’t move like a human’s—no, they bent wrong, clicked when they unfolded, like the cracking of bones. The top half was a girl: slender, pink-haired, her mouth parted in a fake doll’s smile. The bottom half… was not.

Pink glistening chitin stretched across a swollen spider’s abdomen, each leg moving with unnatural grace, each claw-tip whispering across the floor. Her human arms hung limp, but the six arachnid legs moved with elegance. She shimmered like a mirage as if parts of her didn’t obey the laws of visibility, fading and reappearing with every heartbeat.

“AHHHHHHH!” Sharpy screamed. He didn’t think. He couldn’t.

“SHIT!” He simply ran.

Bolted for the door like his ass was on fire, his half-numb legs stumbling and crashing into the furniture. The spiders crunched beneath his bare feet. He slipped and nearly fell, but the adrenaline tore through the venom’s grip and gave him the strength to throw the apartment door open and lurch into the hallway.

But the hallway was wrong.

It was longer than he remembered. The walls looked wet, smeared with pulsing pink silk. And the lights—those dim yellow bulbs—flickered violently, casting his shadow in a thousand broken directions.

Behind him, the clicking followed.

Not rushed.

Deliberate.

Measured.

She wasn’t chasing him. She was stalking him.

And her voice…

“Onii-chan~ where are you going? We haven’t even started…” It echoed down the hallway like a lullaby from the grave.

“Hiiii!!!” He pounded on his neighbor’s door. “LET ME IN! FUCK! PLEASE! SHE’S GOING TO KILL ME!”

No answer. He banged harder.

From under the door, a pink spider slithered out and sat still, watching.

“Fuck!!” Sharpy backed away, watching in horror before he decided to try to leave the complex.

He didn’t feel the bruises form under his feet. Didn’t feel the skin split open on his soles as he stumbled down the stairwell, every step a blind plunge through twitching silk strands and spider-slick residue. The walls were pulsing now—alive—flesh-like, glistening in the jaundiced flicker of hallway lights that buzzed like swarms of flies.

He wasn’t in his apartment building anymore. He was in her nest.

“Haaah… haaah…” His breathing came in shallow, wheezing bursts, the venom still dragging down his limbs like invisible chains. His shoulder slammed into a wall, smearing a streak of red behind him—blood or silk, he didn’t know anymore.

Every turn down the corridor bent the space wrong. Doors he remembered from years of bitter living were no longer there. In their place were silk-veiled holes, dark tunnels lined with trembling webbed flesh. Inside each, something moved. Something breathed.

She had infested it all. Little did he know that everything was happening in his head. Nana used her potent pheromones to fuck up his mind as she was planning to end his life in the worst way possible. The only thing that she did for the few people living in this complex was inject them with a low-effect paralyzing venom to make their sleep a little heavier to ensure no one would hear his agonizing cries.

“Onii-chaaaan~…”

Her voice came again, closer, this time not from behind him, from above.

“Huh!!” He looked up. There was no ceiling anymore.

Only a massive open chamber of pink-veined silk and twitching threads that ran like nerves through the meat. Hanging upside down, motionless but fully aware, was Nana. Her spider half clung to the high rafters, her legs bent at alien angles, her human torso dangling like a marionette. Her head turned slow, sickening, 180 degrees as she locked her eyes on him.

“Come and play with me~…”

Then she vanished. No sound. No movement. Just gone. And that freaked the shit out of the man.

“NONONONONONO–” Sharpy turned and flung open the exit door to the street, or what he thought was the street, and just as he made a left turn he saw someone in the distance.

“N-Nana-Chan?” His eyes widened in shock, staring at the girl of his dreams standing there in all of her naked glory. “Is that really you?”

Nana.

Not the Arachne. Not the grotesque half-spider beast. But the girl.

Petite. Soft. Human. Naked from head to toe, glowing faintly in the pink-tinged gloom that surrounded him. Her skin looked like silk stretched over porcelain. Unblemished. Flawless. The kind of skin he’d once dreamed of bruising with his teeth. Her legs were slightly parted, standing and revealing everything. Her arms were hanging loose at her sides. She was smiling.

Not a grin. Not mockery. Just… smiling.

And that smile gutted him. Not with warmth. But with a memory.

His fantasy. The one he used to beat off to. The one he’d replay over and over in his head like a cursed lullaby. She had smiled just like that on her birthday.

Sharpy blinked once. Twice.

He took a step forward. Toward her, the girl simply opened her arms wide as if waiting for a hug.

“Na…na-chan?”

Sharpy began limping, his whole body shivering, barely moving under the effect of the venom, but the sight of the girl of his dreams, naked, filled his heart, mind, and of course cock.

His cock twitched.

Even now—especially now—while his nerves fried under venom and his skin crawled with the memory of chittering legs and whispering silk, that part of him still responded, as if the last sane signal left in his diseased brain was desire. She stood there, arms wide open, her soft breasts glistening like wet fruit under the pink haze of the cursed sky, and all he could think was:

She’s perfect.

“Na…Nana-chan…” he whispered again, drunk on need, on madness, on delusion so thick it stuck to his tongue like honey and rot.

She said nothing. Just smiled.

And he limped to her, half-dead legs dragging behind him, blood leaving dull smears on the warped concrete beneath his heels. The apartment complex behind him folded into a pulsating ruin, choked in web and ruin—only in his mind—but he didn’t care. He only saw her.

“I knew you’d come back,” he whimpered, stumbling into her embrace. “I knew you missed me—I knew you loved me, it was real, right? All of it… all of it was real—”

Her arms closed around him. Warm. Soft. Perfect.

Then.

SNAP!.

Something cracked deep in his back. He didn’t notice at first, so lost in her chest, face buried against her skin, moaning with joy. But then came the pain—low, sharp, digging into the base of his spine. Like claws kneading deeper with every heartbeat.

“Uhh… h-huh?” he mumbled, trying to look up. And when he did.

“Hello~… Onii-chan”

“AHHHH!”

All he managed to see was six crimson eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp teeth before everything turned black.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep