Caught in the Spider's Web
Caught in the Spider's Web
There's something magical about a foal's first sleepover. An entire monotonous life of sleeping in the same house, with the same ponies, finally broken by the incredible prospect of staying up late with a good friend. Bedtimes are ignored, rules once sacred are shattered left and right, all in the name of fun.
You are Little Fuge, a slight, murky brown unicorn who is about to experience that magic.
Your mother smiles down in the kitchen as she hears your frantic hoofsteps upstairs, gathering up enough supplies to last a week in the Everfree, let alone a night at a home within walking distance. Hearing a skittering noise by the stairs, she turns to see you nearly fall down the last few steps in your haste.
"MOM!" you squeal at the mare in front of you, "I'M READY!"
She chuckles, delighted at your enthusiasm for your very first slumber party. "Now? Don't you want a bit of dinner first?"
"Noooooo!" you whine, "Flint said that his parents are making sunflower lasagna tonight! He has it for lunch sometimes and it looks SOOOO GOOD!"
"Alright dear, alright!" she laughs. "Think you've got enough sleeping gear there?"
You look back at your saddlebags, full past the bursting point with board games, multiple sleeping bags, junk food, and several toothbrushes. You look back at your mother sheepishly. "Do you think I need more? I KNEW I forgot something..."
"No sweetie, Mummy is just having a little fun." She nuzzles your cheek before trotting to the door and grabbing a jacket. "Come on, let's get going then."
Your eyes nearly get stuck back in your skull as you roll them, "C'mon mom! I'm a big colt! I don't need you to walk me like, eight blocks. Flint goes everywhere by himself, he'll think I'm a baby!"
"Oh, well we wouldn't want him to think THAT now would we? By the way, you've got a bit of dirt on your chin," she says, licking her hoof with a mischievous grin.
You back up, wise to her game. "Nuh uh! I know what you're doing!" The next few moments are chaotic as you sprint around the kitchen island, trying to keep away from your cackling mother and her imaginary-dirt-seeking-hoof. It's over quickly though as she grabs you up and kisses your cheek, making sure to make it as embarrassing as possible. Despite the fact that nopony is around, you're still red in the face. You rub kiss-juice off of your cheek violently, huffing all the while.
"I love you sweetie, have fun at your little sleepover. Just be careful! Wouldn't want any of the Night-Boogeys to get you!"
"Ugh, goodbye Mom..." With your saddlebags secured on your haunches, you step out into the cool Canterlot night.
As you magically close the door behind you, your ears perk up. Right when the ringing of your telekinesis stopped, what was that sound?
You listen intently for a few seconds, before turning back towards the door. Maybe it /would/ be better to have Mom along with you. Just for the conversation right? Yeah...
No!
You stop right before your magic activates. You're a big colt, you don't need Mom holding your hoof to walk a few blocks! You're not going to look like a scardy pony in front of your friend!
With a deep breath, you turn around once more and trot off of your stoop. So far so good...
As you begin walking, your confidence grows.
'This is easy!' you think. 'What was I afraid of anyw-'
You halt. There it was again, that sound... It was so familiar, but, somehow different.
Wings.
Yes, you've heard pegasus ponies fly before. The beating of their wings sounded similar, bigger than a bird. But these wings sounded different. Wrong somehow.
"Hello?"
You call out sheepishly into the night, your voice bouncing off the buildings looming over you. The only answer you receive is a chilly breeze. You shiver more than the cold would suggest.
'Dumb imagination... I'm almost there. Just keep walking Fuge.'
You continue trotting, keeping constant attention on the sky above, but the phantom wings do not make another sound.
Instead, something much worse breaks the night's silence.
Crying... Somepony is crying nearby, a filly from the sound of it.
Every muscle in your small body is fighting you as you search for the source. The streets are very disorienting the way they bounce the sound around.
Eventually you trace it to an alley. The crying and wailing grows louder as you approach. You're visibly shaking, wanting nothing more than to run back to your house and hide under the covers, sleepover forgotten. But your parents always taught you to help other ponies; that's what makes the world work. And somepony was definitely in need of help. Somepony small and scared and alone...
Gulping, you start slowly down the darkened alleyway. You try to light your horn, but your nerves only allow for a fleeting spark or two before it winks out. You continue on, even more slowly than before.
"H-hello? Is somepony there? I can hear crying, do you need help?"
"P-please... I'm scared..."
You freeze at the answer. Somehow you weren't prepared to actually find somepony down here. "W-where are you? I can't see!"
"Here..."
You go back and forth like that, playing a frightening game of marco polo to try and find the source. Eventually your nose bumps into something warm, and furry.
"Ow!" the voice says, recoiling in pain.
You gasp, backpedaling before coming to your senses and returning sheepishly to the hurt pony.
"S-sorry... Are you okay? What's wrong?"
All you hear is her sniffling quietly.
"Please... I can take you home, my mom can call a nurse and they can help!"
She mutters, far too quiet to hear, even at your close proximity.
"What?" you ask as you lean in closer.
You're nearly nose-to-nose now, you can practically feel her quivering form right in front of you. Once more, your horn sparks. Just for a moment, but what you see is the last thing you expect, and it's terrifying.
In the split second of light, you behold a pair of slitted eyes, staring straight at you. The mare, for her face was far too developed to be that of a filly, is grinning a toothy grin. Too toothy, due to a pair of curved fangs jutting out from her upper lip. Tufted ears grow from her head, facing directly forward. This was no pony you had ever seen before. Maybe not even of the same species.
In the darkness, all you can hear is your shallow and rapid breathing. "W-who are you? W-what do you want!?"
A high pitched giggle cuts through the night. "I'm a pony just like you!" the voice rings out, a voice is much older than the crying had led you to believe. "Didn't you say you wanted to help me?"
You scoot backwards blindly, trying to light your horn again and reveal this... thing that tricked you.
"P-please Miss... I'm just a little colt..." you whimper. "What are you?"
That awful giggling fills the alleyway again, colder than ice and sharper than any knife in your mother's kitchen, yet somehow filled with nothing but pure mirth and giddyness.
"Well now, 'Little Colt,' why don't you tell me your name? Isn't that what new friends do?"
You stammer helplessly, tears leaking down your cheeks and into your coat. All of a sudden there's a pressure at your chin, it feels like she's holding a hoof under it, forcing you to look into a face you can't see. Your entire body is paralyzed with terror.
"Shh... your name, please." the creature giggles.
"F-Fuge... L-Little Fuge... Please d-don't hurt me!"
"Now why would I do that sweetie? Hurt a cute little colt like yourself? Do you think I'm a monster?" She giggles again as hearing your mother's name for you keeps you silent.
She nuzzles the top of your head. You can feel that your mane is matted to your skin with sweat. "No... I'm not a monster silly. Really, I'm just... hungry."
That last word snapped you out of your paralysis, with a surge of energy you flash your horn brightly before scrambling to your hooves and sprinting away.
You hear a yell of surprise at your sudden action, but your heart sinks again when you hear that giggle... that horrible giggle loom after you. "Oh I love it when they run..."
It's five whole blocks to home. You sprint as fast as your tiny legs will allow, trying to escape this nightmare of a pony that decided you were the perfect prey for her tonight. You're sobbing openly out of sheer terror, crying out madly for your mother like a scared foal, which you currently are.
Suddenly you hear something that makes your blood run cold. Flapping. The demented flapping from before that sounded all wrong. Looking over your shoulder, you see a dark shape detatch itaelf from the horizon and pursue you, carried on hellish leathery wings... like a bat. The creature flies in front of the moon, casting you in her shadow, before diving downwards towards her target.
You shriek in terror as you try to escape, but your saddlebags are weighing you down and making you far slower than the monster pursuing you. As she nears, you dive forward with a cry, causing her hooves to grab the bags right off of your haunches. With the weight gone, your speed improves greatly and you distance yourself from the horrid creature of the night. You leave the awful flapping in the dust as you sprint, one block to go. You can see the light that your mother always leaves on illuminating your front steps, a beacon of safety from this horrible nightmare. You're going to make it, half a block, no sign of the creature.
Weeping like a filly, you leap up the stairs and grasp for the handle, but something happens to rip you back into your nightmare. With a hiss, the terrible creature from the alley materializes in front of you, appearing to step from the very shadows themselves.
That giggling, the horrible giggling comes forth from her once more. "I must say Little Fuge, you were a lot harder to catch than I thought you'd be..."
You wait for her to pounce, to attack, to do something...
Nothing happens. She just simply stares.
"Well? Aren't you going to run?"
You gulp. "W-what do you mean?" Your heart is hammering, expecting any second for her to reveal some sort of trick.
She shrugs, as simply as one would express indecision over what pair of pants went best with a vest. "You see my dear... I like the chase." She giggles once again. "I'll give you one last chance... If you can avoid me for just five minutes, you'll get to see your mommy again. I'll leave you alone, heck, I'm sporting! I'll even give you a head start." She leans down right in front of your face, baring her fangs in a smile. "Ten. Nine. Eight."
"W-what!?" you choke out. "B-but-"
"Seven."
With a yelp, you take off once more, not even caring where you're headed. Anywhere is better than in the presence of that foul creature. You can barely see through your tears, whimpering through a stitch in your chest and running blindly into the night.
Eventually your body begins to fail. Unable to run another step, you limp into an alley and begin to sob quietly. What have you done to deserve this? Why did you have to have to go to a sleepover tonight? You're never going to see Flint again, or your mother, or anypony else for that matter.
You sit in the darkness, listening for anything othet than your drumming heartbeat. Minutes pass. Then what feels like an hour.
No sign of her. You peer out from your hiding spot. No flapping wings, no maniacal giggling, no crocodile tears. You trot fearfully out into the street, wary of any noises.
But there's nothing.
You're in disbelief, could she have kept her word? It's definitely been more than five minutes. You trot, still panicking, back towards home.
Once more you see the lamp on the stairs, once more hope takes hold of you. All you want to do is walk inside and hug your mom, nuzzle her with all of your might and then fall asleep, safe in her embrace.
That's the thing about a hunter though. Nothing is sweeter than giving their prey hope, before taking it away completely.
You scream shrilly as the light crackles out, consumed by tendrils of shadows, before your cry is cut short by a pair of hooves coming out of the very pavement and dragging you into darkness.
You step panting out of the shadows into a dimly lit space, your tiny prize slung limply over your back. You take a quick moment to catch your breath, shadow travel really takes it out of a girl. Soon you regain your composure and trot your captor over to a padded chair placed in the only brightened section of the room. A cheerful tune escapes you in the form of whistling as you busy yourself with strapping the foal tightly into place. Most ponies would make haste, but you've been through this process enough to know your timeframes. The poor foal was spooked nearly to death! He should be out for another ten minutes, easy. With Little Fuge secure, you let out a small giggle as you retreat back into the shadows. It wouldn't do for the surprise to be ruined right away afterall. To entertain yourself, you take out a decorated coin, emblazened with a black widow design and start to roll it back and forth between your hooves.
Minutes pass, and right on cue your captive begins to stir. Slowly at first, but once he notices his immobility, the struggles pick up quick. You cock your head curiously as you watch. Everypony you've done this with reacts slightly differently, it's always an interesting process to watch. Little Fuge seems to be a crier though. As expected, he whimpers out weak cries for his mother in between desperate, if futile, attempts to loosen his bindings.
You allow him a while to stew in his terror for a while longer before your lips curl upwards in a cruel smile.
'Showtime!'
All movement in the foal ceaces when he hears your low giggle come forth from the darkness. You can practically taste his fear as you slowly rise to your hooves and trot towards the illuminated patch of space, your hoofsteps echoing off of the walls and announcing your presence to the guest.
He looks on the verge of passing out once more as you slowly come into the light, your wide smile allowing your fangs to glint as you move.
"I'm glad you're awake sweetie..." You continue to play with your coin gleefully, passing it back and forth in a mesmerizing motion as you speak. "I was beginning to think I had scared you more than you could take! Welcome to the spider's Web my dear. Feel free to relax and make yourself at home!"
The slender colt was whimpering too hard to answer, all according to plan.
Blood was your only real objective, you were in the mood to feed afterall. That being said, if you were going to go through all this trouble, it might as well be worth it. All of the endorphins and hormones released into the blood when fear and terror flood a pony's body were almost addictive. They were better than the greatest spice, the ripest fruit, the greenest grass. Of course, the foal wasn't to know that. It's always so much better when they're left in the dark...
In your experience, a cheery disposition during this part of the process seemed to be the most effective at inspiring terror. It wasn't something you could completely explain, but you definitely wouldn't argue with the results. Hostility was usually met with resistance, but giddyness could make a grown stallion wet himself on the spot; you know that from experience. Fear was important in this particular
"Do you know what this is?" you ask, flashing the coin in front of your guest.
No response.
"It's a spider silly! Specifically a Black Widow." You rub the coin lovingly. "I always had a soft spot for spiders you see... Do you know how a spider eats?"
Still no response.
"I'll tell you! First, they've got to catch something! Lots of different spiders have lots of different techniques to do that you see. Then, they wraaaaaaaaap up their catch, so it can't even move an inch!" You accompany the drawn out word with a series of hoof movements to indicate spinning and weaving. "Then comes my favorite part," you smile, fangs gleaming wickedly. "The spider sinks these super sharp fangs into their food, sucking out all of their insides like a smoothie!" You add a long, disgusting slurping sound to the end of your description.
"Now, see any similarities between a spider and me?" You giggle madly as the fear in the small pony's eyes reaches new heights.
You put your spider-coin away and close the distance between the two of you, sitting lightly on the armrest of the chair. You stroke a hoof against your prisoner's chin, tracing his jaw and lingering a bit on his neck. The gentle pulse of blood you feel there sends a shiver up your spine, another giggle escaping you. Little Fuge tries desperately to tug his head away, but you snatch it back and cradle him, almost lovingly in your forelegs.
"I suppose you'd like to know why you're here, hmm?" you coo. The tiny foal nods his head as best he can in your grip. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, hyperventilating in his fear.
Petting his mane gently, you begin to weave your web. "I'm a monster little foal! Surely you've figured that out by now... And what are monsters always hungry for in the stories?"
A delicious squeal of panic is his only response.
"That's right! Little foals!" you giggle. "Only I'm going to tell you a little secret..." You bring your mouth down right next to his ear and begin to whisper. "Parents tell their foals that monsters only come for the bad little fillies and colts. That we're punishment! But that's not true at all... Truth is? We're not picky. Being a good little pony won't keep us away."
You pat his cheek as you finish, enjoying the involuntary panic induced spasms racking his tiny frame. "Now let me explain exactly what's going to happen tonight sweetie... I'm going to bite you, right here, right on your cute wittwe neck." You tap his vein to accentuate your point. "You see... you're no more than a meal right now. I'm the strong one, and you're the weak one. That's how the world works isn't it? The strong feed, the weak do the feeding..."
Little Fuge finally breaks his silence, though his words are garbled and hard to understand through his tears. "W-WHY!? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!? J-JUST PLEASE L-LET ME GO! OR JUST BITE ME! PLEASE PLEASE JUST DO IT!"
You giggle once more. You absolutely LOVED it when they began to plead for the end, it was almost time. "Oh Little Fuge, I'll bet your pretty mommy told you before not to play with your food. Everypony's mother did. Thing is, I was never one to listen. I'd make mashed potato towers and bite my sandwiches into fun shapes... It only stood to reason that when ponies became my food I'd do the same thing!"
You tap your chin, an evil idea suddenly popping into your head. Again, you lean down before your prey, smiling widely. "Say... speaking of mommies, I think I might pay a visit to yours tonight, right after this!" You lick your fangs to drive your meaning home.
Little Fuge's eyes widen, his heart starts pounding with dangerous frequency and his breaths become short and erratic. The straps actually strain, as his puny frame is pumped full of adrenaline and energy. He's not even coherent at this point, just a wild animal desperate for a way out.
You smile, as you step on a small lever on the side of the chair. Slowly, Little Fuge reclines until he's facing straight up at the ceiling, where the piece de resistance hangs. The foal's struggles die in his moment of confusion before he realizes what he's looking at. A large mirror hangs upside down, showing him in all of his vulnerable glory. He'll be able to see the entire process as this monster feasts on him. You nearly burst with glee as his struggles return, nearly twofold.
You salivate, sensing that the moment is here. If you draw it out much longer the colt's heart might actually explode! With frightening speed, your head snaps forward and your fangs sink beneath the the murky brown fur and into the tender flesh beneath. Your eyes roll back into your head as you begin to suck, drawing out the scarlet nectar from your prey's body.
This is your favorite part. You shiver in the split second between the bite and the moment fresh blood hits your tongue. The anticipation of all of your hard work paying off is nearly better than the reward itself.
Everypony's blood is different, it's a basic fact in the bat pony world. Some is spicy, some is tangy, some is sweet, some is bitter. It's a myriad of flavors in every mouthfull, as unique as the DNA it contains.
Like the notes on a sheet of music, Little Fuge's blood lights up your taste buds one by one, creating a breathtaking melody of sensations. First you taste fruit, some apple, maybe a little bit of cherry. But then it's replaced with a cacophony of sweet flavors. Butterscotch and caramel... It seems like the foal had a sweet tooth that he liked to satisfy far more than his slender frame would suggest.
The foals eyes are narrow slits, as are his nostrils as he thrashes. You have to be careful not to stiffen or you'll tear his throat out. Gulp after gulp of blood you suck down, savoring every ounce of fluid, and agonizing over it at the same time. Every pull you take is one closer to the end... More and more blood you take from the colt, warming your throat and belly. It reinvigorates you like nothing else. Sure, bat ponies could survive on regular vegetables, some even sucking juice out of fruit. But the dark truth was that they were MEANT to enjoy the sweet ichor of their fellow ponies. Their love for blood was, well... in their blood.
Gradually, very gradually Little Fuge's struggles begin to slow. The lack of blood in his veins is taking its toll on your victim as his lips grow pale and his eyes droop.
"Mommy... don't hurt mommy... please. I love you mommy..."
He slumps back, out cold.
Unable to resist, you take one last slurp of his sweet blood before pulling away and wiping your muzzle with the back of your foreleg, sighing and rubbing your belly in contentment. You can practically feel his blood sloshing around as you giggle at the feeling of warmth and ecstasy permeating your entire body. You pet the colt's mane as you sigh, "I know you can't hear me... but thank you sweetie." One last giggle escapes your mouth before you begin the process of cleaning up.
"Ah! Little Fuge, it's good to see you! What kept you so long?" You snap out a trance-like state, confused at both the voice and the blinding light in front of you. You recoil from this sensory overload, stumbling backwards and stepping into open space. You tumble backwards, flailing your forelegs and bumping down a series of steps before landing in a heap on the hard ground.
"Oh my goodness!" the same voice says. You feel somepony grab you, and you scramble away desperately. "NO! Don't touch me! Please, get away!" You struggle against the embrace as you're brought into the light. "Honey... Little Fuge, what's wrong? Please! Calm down."
Slowly, shapes start to become recognizable. You're in the mudroom of a warmly-lit house. You recognize it as the entrace to Flint's place. A mare, your friend's mother, is staring into your eyes, looking frightened at your panic. "Are you okay honey? You look like you've seen a ghost."
You gulp. "Y-yes... I'm okay."
Pulling out of her embrace, you hear hoofsteps galloping towards you. As you turn, Flint rounds the corner with a huge grin and tackles you. "FUGE! You're here!" He pulls you to your hooves and pulls you to his room, waving his mother off as she gives a worried look after you.
The pair of you get up to his room, and Flint begins taking out his toys and chattering gleefully about how much fun you're going to have. You don't listen, you don't feel his happiness. You don't feel anything at all.
"F-Flint? I need to go to the bathroom."
He gestures towards the hall, not even looking. Can't he tell something is wrong? Doesn't he understand that you're not okay?
You get shakily to your feet and trot slowly down the hall to the bathroom. Locking the door, you push yourself up onto the counter and in front of the mirror. You put a hoof to your mane, taking a deep shuddering breath.
Afraid of what you'll find beneath, you push the hair back. You look and find... Nothing. Your skin is unblemished, no sign of a bite.
It's impossible. There's no evidence of anything wrong with you. The blisters from the straps, the bite, nothing is there. Could you have imagined the entire thing? Some sort of terrible daydream?
'It must have been... There's no way. Besides, nopony would even believe me if I did tell them. They'd call me crazy, lock me up! No. It was all a dream. That's it.'
You sigh, before splashing water on your face and heading back to Flint.
Looks like your friend has already taken the liberty of unpacking your saddlebags. "I got out all the games! And why did you bring like 6 toothbrushes?"
You chuckle lightly. "I was just excited I guess. Let's have fun!"
You and your friend begin to play a game of checkers. You actually start to have a bit of fun, thoughts of your ordeal slowly trickling out of your mind after your realization that it was all just some bizarre hallucination.
Several games later and Flint is back to rummaging through your saddlebags, looking for some other fun thing to occupy your time. "Hey Fuge!" he calls out, buried up to his neck in the bag. "What's this for? Some game piece that fell out of the box?"
You trot over curiously, peering at where Flint is pointing to. You wish you hadn't. You really wish you hadn't.
Sitting at the bottom of your bags, glinting slightly in the dull light is a small disc. A coin.
With a spider carved into its face.
Your acute bat ears pick out the tantalizing sound of a colt's panicked shrieking. The delicious symphony seems to go on for minutes, before it regresses into hysterical sobbing and out of your range of hearing.
You savor it while it lasts. It brings you nearly as much pleasure as draining the poor little dear.
Wholly satisfied, you spring up from the rooftop and spread your leathery wings, soaring lazily through the crisp night hoping to scare a few night-owl ponies who might be out at this hour. After a while though, Luna's moon begins to slowly sink towards the horizon. You yawn widely as you watch it, sad that such a perfect night is finally coming to an end. Banking widely, you soar back in the direction of the Night Guard barracks.
Another yawn makes an appearance as you settle down into your soft, welcoming bed. You snuggle against your pillow as you relive recent events one last time.
It really was a perfect night. Not only did you enjoy a delicious meal, but the poor foal was probably traumatized! Scarred for life if you were lucky. You think of what it might be like when the two of you inevitably cross paths someday in the future. Will he pretend you don't exist? Will he attack you in some sort of crazed fear-induced rage? That might be fun actually. He'd get all of the heat, and the entire city would brand him as a racist, and rally around you, his secret tormentor!
The thought makes you wriggle in delight, giggling hysterically. You cover your mouth with your hooves, so as to not wake your fellow bats. So many possibilities down the road, each more wonderful than the last.
Just one thought hangs in your mind as you drift off into an easy, peaceful slumber.
When is the next meal going to come?