Author's Note

...feels relevant...or just cool to listen to while reading. I dunno. You guys decide!

4. Do They Have to Watch?

Edited by TuxOKC

Since it was a barn, it only made sense to Rachnera there would be animal noises to go with it. The ponies insisted she come down, making whinnies and snorts, while the minotaur argued with Winter, his words blending with cattle sounds. Yet Winter seemed to understand him without any problem and whickered at him in profound disappointment. A meaty fist with a pointing finger was jabbed at the Arachne with emphasis as he spoke. The minotaur had an Italian flair to his body language, pointing (a lot) at Rachnera, while making a helpless wave at the door as he explained himself.

Understated would have been to just call him impressive. His thick, long white beard bore three braids bound by leather and bone. His hair was done in the same fashion, though were more dreadlocks than braids. There were old patterned scars, (tribal markings?) along the left side of his face. An etched steel nose ring gleamed in the light of the candles. The bull was dressed from head to toe in chainmail, though no weapon was in his hand. He had used his fists as weapons and smashed the door down in three heavy strikes.

Lucifer continued to jab a finger at Rachnera, his intent not quite diplomatic in her eyes. Not afraid of him (though his spectacular entrance had been startling and unsettling), she instead drew herself into a corner, drawing her legs close to her body, studying this living mass of flesh and muscle with a cool gaze.She trembled, the laughter having died. No, afraid was far too weak a word to use. She had no intention of even entertaining the idea of fighting him. There was too much risk of injury no matter how confident she might have felt. Besides, she was not a trained warrior, far from it! There below her was a killing machine!

The ponies, she noted with interest, were putting themselves in between Lucifer and herself. They were afraid of the bull, afraid of the Arachne, but put themselves in a position that was at that moment the least desirable to be in.

She was...baffled. How did those tiny horses know what the mooing was and how did that Viking cow know what the neighing meant? Was a pig going to show up and oink the Gettysburg Address? Did a chicken lurk nearby ready to recite haikus in Ye Olde Cluck?

There was weird, as in what went on back at the home of her Host Family on a daily basis, then there was this. The weirdness had levelled up and was now stranger than ever.

None of them knew Japanese, a proper civilized tongue. Or any human language, for that matter. That was civilized. This, she blinked at the mooing and neighing, was nonsensical animal noise pretending to be conversation. Being a cynic through personal experience and observation, Rachnera thought this language barrier was more than likely to cause her more grief than was necessary. Her thoughts altered and she found herself hypocritical, which went against her own beliefs. A moment of weakness, she simmered, upset at herself for having such thoughts. There had to be a way to learn their language without sounding so...so! Such a confusing place!

The idea of encouraging the translation spell, or whatever it was, to again be used on her had the prospect of turning her brain into mush. If Winter Shimmer was to be believed, future use of the magic on her did not sit well with the Arachne. Lady Luck had to this point showered her with good fortune and it would be just a matter of time before that would pass. The bad luck would come, Rachnera was sure of it.

Random was somewhere in his room, no doubt thinking about what he had done. The poor child had only been trying to help her. Rachnera understood this and could not hold a grudge against innocence. She had seen it in his eyes, the trust he developed with her almost immediately after getting over his fears. Such a sweet boy, but having to deal with the adults below her..?

Another minotaur entered the barn...er, town hall. This one much smaller than Lucifer. Her coloration was that of a Red Danish dairy cow, red and brown, with small horns. Her rather plain brown mane was in a pair of pigtails and she wore a simple floral pattern dress of white and blue. In her hands she carried a tray. Her brown eyes scanned the door, then rolled as she let out an exasperated sigh. Was she related to Lucifer? It was hard to say, though from the way she bore her eyes into the back of the now wildly gesticulating bull, there was some sort of relationship between the two.

The table Rachnera had been at was still in one piece. The cow placed the covered tray on it and immediately began berating Lucifer in Cow...ish?

“Ridiculous,” Rachnera muttered under her breath. Her hands were still bound with rope. As she clung to the corner of the wall and ceiling, she debated an escape before all the stupidity gave her an aneurysm. The farce that were her bindings were taken care of with the help of one of her legs. She rubbed her wrists more out of habit than from the ropes being tight. The chitinous armor covering her arms and hands had prevented the feeling of little more than discomfort.

She adjusted her sweater and again went still, watching the silly drama unfold on the floor below.

Lucifer wanted to smash.

Winter would not let him smash.

But there was a spider in the corner in need of much smashing, Lucifer was insisting.

No, Winter was telling him, he was not to smash the spider, because the spider was under her protection, so smashing the spider was out of the question.

The minotaur fell to pleading for the chance to smash.

Winter insisted there would be no smashing. She pointed at the door with a hoof. More ponies were poking their heads in. The commotion of Rachnera’s confinement along with Lucifer’s interesting method of opening doors had drawn a crowd. It was possible the entire village was now staring in, if not through what was left of the front door, then through the glass windows. Public smashing might offend any ponies watching, Winter seemed to be saying.

At least, that was the conversation Rachnera thought might be going on. She was certain she was in the ballpark. Her eyes fell to the tray on the table. She could smell food. Delicious, mouth-watering food! Her stomach rumbled.

The second, smaller minotaur spotted Rachnera and stared, slack-jawed. At least she wasn’t pointing at the Arachne like a fool. Through her furred face, she appeared to pale a bit, her attention shifting when Winter spoke to her in a much more mollified tone. The cow asked Winter a question, motioning to the food tray. Winter replied, nudging her muzzle towards where the Arachne watched. The cow spoke up to her, motioning for the spider monster to come down and eat. Rachnera pointed at Lucifer and shook her head.

The cow scowled and began another tongue lashing of the bull, who was by now looking less and less formidable. He had two women ganging up on him and that was a battle he was not going to win. The door knocker swayed with his motions until the cow noticed it, made a face, and plucked it loose from his horn. She then handed it to Lucifer. A sheepish expression along with a slump of his massive shoulders ended the conversation. He turned and trudged back the way he came, stepping over shattered wood and through the parting sea of gawkers.

Rachnera dropped down on a thread, her front four legs reaching for the floor while keeping her arms crossed over her breasts in a show of disapproval. The cow backed away, now having a good look at Winter’s ‘guest’ and swallowing hard. A nervous, all too fake smile graced her muzzle and she removed the tray cover, revealing a plate of baked fish fillets smothered in salt, pepper, and melted butter. A wedge of lemon was on the plate, as well as what appeared to be a thick bowl of vegetable soup. Half a loaf of bread also beckoned, this one appearing to be warm and fresh.

“It’s okay,” Rachnera told her, “you can fear me. I don’t mind.” She was salivating at the smell of food. Pointing first to the tray, then herself, she asked, “For me?”

The cow nodded, letting out a small, short moo. Yes.

Clasping her hands together in delight, Rachnera made a polite bow to the minotaur.

Meanwhile, a makeshift cover for the door was being put up by some of the guards. They appeared to be drapes. More had gone outside to disperse the crowd while Winter whinnied out orders. Rachnera was sure she had been seen by more than a few unwanted eyes, but that was the bull minotaur’s fault, not hers. Not an ideal outcome, but what was done was done. The tray had a knife and fork and not chopsticks as she was used to. Western utensils were not foreign to her.

Smiling at the cow, Rachnera said, “Thank you!”, pressing her hands together and again inclining her head towards her server. Let it not be said the Arachne was ungrateful in the land of pastel ponies and their minotaur friends!

Setting herself before her food, Rachnera paid no heed as she was being watched and dug in with gusto. The portions were generous and greedy hunger glinted in all six eyes. The first bite was heaven and she chewed enough to enjoy the flavor before the next fork full of fish was en route to her lips. Humming happily as she ate, the Arachne focused on quieting the beast that was her stomach, taking care to observe polite table manners. Soon the plate was devoid of the delicious fish. The soup was hearty and soon followed suit.

Smiling at the minotaur woman, she thanked her again as she sipped cold tea. Did they have coffee here? Winter appeared to be in a better mood, probably because the spider monster had just eaten and was for the moment slightly less of a threat than before. Rachnera wished she could understand horsespeak and cowmoo. It would have gone well with her animalistic desires.

She snickered at her own bad joke. I’m funny! I’m not funny. I am terrible at humor unless my mind is in the gutter and it often is or if it’s me practicing my rope play at the expense of others.

Winter pointed at her hands, her voice terse as she narrowed her eyes.

“It was a terrible job,” Rachnera told her with a grin. “Not tight enough.”

The unicorn drew closer, her voice low and commanding.

“Fine! Fine!” The Arachne put her wrists together and held them out towards the pony. “You don’t have to be gentle, this time. I do have experience. The safe word is Honey!”

Okay, I’ll admit, I’m probably only funny in my mind. She needed sleep. Her mind was doing funny things and it was making her lose control of herself. That would not do.

Her hands were bound again, this time with iron manacles. They must not have had them when they first found me. Tch. Weren’t expecting something like me the first time.

None of the ponies understood what she had said, but it did make her feel better. In the past few hours she had gotten a decent idea of at least the mindset of the leadership. Winter Shimmer seemed to be fair, a practitioner of the laws, be they local or national. Her soldiers obeyed and trusted her judgement. There were no cries of outrage coming from the curious villagers outside, which lead the Arachne to believe they trusted Winter to keep them safe from the spider monster inside the town hall/barn.

The minotaur girl was odd. Her head was bovine, like Lucifer’s, instead of the more humanoid faces from the minotaurs back home. Nor did she have the larger busts most minotaur girls had. The proportions were more in line with a human girl. There was far too much fur and far less beauty humans would find appealing. The Arachne found this refreshing and appreciated what she saw, even if it was strange. The minotaur cow threw off her sense of what was natural. There was no simple matter of shrugging it off, but this was not her world. That mantra was constantly going through her mind.

It might have been slowly eating away at her own sanity.

Rachnera sighed. At least she could still drink her tea, even if it was cool. She watched as Winter spoke at length with the cow, indicating every once in a while at the Arachne. The unicorn spoke with slow words, trying to ease the worry etched on the bovine face. Every objection was met with gentle but firm assurances.

Rachnera had her thoughts racing to what she heard about Lucifer, before the Spell of Potential Vegetablehood had faded. If he was the innkeeper and the minotaur girl worked at his inn, then that would mean a bath. Everything made sense and the level of excitement went up a notch.

What time was it? It had to be well past midnight. Was dawn approaching? Rachnera didn’t know. With how quickly the sun had set and the moon had risen right after, was dawn even trustworthy? Was this one of those magical worlds that even liminals believed to be nothing more than imaginative fiction? Rachnera was uncertain, but she didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole again. She had to keep her thoughts in the present and work towards the tomorrow she wanted. It was not going to be easy.

First thing she needed to focus on was understanding the language without her brain being turned into a slurpee. Now, Rachnera liked Random Rhubarb Shimmer. He was honest, as most children were, before life and society corrupted them. He was curious, showed a promising amount of intelligence for one so young, and was not afraid to approach a monster in hopes of making a friend. That was, in Rachnera’s mind, what made him such an endearing little scamp. She did hope to see him again. Such adorableness was infectious!

Winter finished speaking to the as of yet unnamed minotaur and motioned for Rachnera to come. The unicorn whinnied out some orders. Guards moved with purpose after a chorus of what could only be affirmatives. They formed up around the Arachne. None she sensed were at all comfortable being this close to her, but she was ushered towards the side door from earlier. They moved through a small series of offices and through another door leading outside. Winter led the way, her horn lighting up the moment she stepped into the night. She turned and beckoned at Rachnera with a hoof to hurry.

The minotaur had already gone ahead.

It was not difficult to see where they were going. Rachnera caught glimpses of the village residents. Some guards were busy distracting them while others followed after the minotaur girl to maintain a clear path to the inn. It would not do to start a panic at the sight of the spider monster. The mission was not difficult, seeing as most of the population was still milling around the front of the town hall, but there was always the chance of the unexpected encounter happening. Winter Shimmer was keen to avoid such an incident.

The inn was halfway down one of the main roads between the village center and its edge. It was two stories tall, thatched like most of the other buildings, and was the most inviting place Rachnera had seen. The prospect of bathing was making her feel giddy with excitement. A girl needed to be clean and presentable, didn’t she?

The group moved across the street, along the side of the inn, and through another side door. This led into a sizable kitchen still holding the scents of the meal she had just had wafting to her nose. There was a common room they moved through, another side door, and down a small hallway. At the end of the hall was a double door, which was open. The minotaur cow was inside. A large cast iron tub awaited with water running from a faucet. There were some towels already placed on a small bench near the tub for the Arachne. The (renewed) terror-filled eyes of the bovine girl were unmistakable and she was not even trying to hide it.

“Oh,” Rachnera cooed with delight, “oh, it’s just what I want. It’s just what I need!” her voice purred from her throat. She took great care not to antagonize her hostess, though Winter gave her a warning snort. “Calm down, you tiny, horny horse. I have no intentions of going on a terror spree. I just want to be clean.” She threw her bound hands at the tub and kept her attention there.

The minotaur left with a muffled moo, which could have translated as, “Please let me know if you need anything else” to “Nope, nope, nope, nope, and hell no!”, or anything in between.

Ignoring her, Rachnera turned to Winter and held her manacles to the unicorn. The horn flared and they dropped, only to be caught by a glow and floated into a pouch. The mare gave a pointed glare, which the Arachne understood.

Behave.

Rachnera nodded with a smile and immediately removed her sweater, pulling it over her head and letting it fall to the floor. She did not bother to wait for the guards to leave, nor did she care if they stayed or left. A moan escaped her lips as her breasts were free to feel the cool air. Their perky bounce did not go unnoticed.

She was not behaving.

Behind her, there was a mad scramble as Winter herded her guards out. Rachnera paid them no heed as she checked the temperature of the running water and spent a moment fiddling with the knobs. There was a lever for a shower head. It was turned. She could not handle hot water (not for lack of trying in the past), but something warmer than the air in the room would suit her just fine. With her hands covering her breasts, she turned and smirked at Winter.

No, this was the opposite of behaving.

Winter was not amused. Rolling her eyes, she pointed a hoof at the tub, and neighed. Her eyes pierced into Rachnera’s, which made the Arachne let out a throaty chuckle. Ponies, she had noticed, were too adorable with those eyes to be taken seriously. One leg, then another, and another; all eight went into the tub as fingers touched and adjusted the knobs one last time.

Winter sat down on a bench, muttering under her breath. Her voice rose, calling out. One of the other mare guards entered the room. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the unicorn who spoke (whinnied, neighed, snorted...Rachnera would have liked to have known what was being said). The mare joined Winter on the bench and both settled down to keep an eye on the spider monster. The very sensual and very teasing spider monster.

There were oils and soaps and shampoos in a basket sitting on a stool by the tub. The liminal delighted in taking the time to sample them. She found one to her liking, with a lavender scent. This was not a Japanese bath, but more of a Western style. There would be no soak, and that was unfortunate. At least she could get clean. For the next several minutes, she busied herself to the task, ignoring her guards and focusing on removing several days worth of dirt and grime caked everywhere. There was a handy shower brush she was more than glad to use. She paid attention to the segments and joints of her lower half before attending to her human half.

It was a horror show for the poor ponies, she noted from their expressions. There was a shower curtain. She paused in her cleaning and gripped the end of it, arching a brow at Winter. The mare, shaking visibly, nodded. Her subordinate had adopted a fake smile. Her expression suggested she had no idea what she was looking at, but it was a mix of horror and wonderment. Beauty and monstrosity was before the eyes of the ponies and it confused them to no end. Seeing a part spider, part human monster bathing had to have been one of the strangest, weirdest, most disturbing things they had ever witnessed.

A deep throated chuckle thrummed from the Arachne and she clucked her tongue at them. It was an admonishing with a smile that teetered between predation and playfulness. She pulled the curtain shut and resumed her shower, hoping that would be an end to that. It was every bit as odd to her as it was to them. Resuming the process of cleaning every square centimeter of her form, she ignored her guard. It always took some time to clean herself. Being four times larger than the average human female with many, many more places requiring attention made bathing an engaging process. Nothing could be neglected. Once her second thorax was clean, she moved on towards her second abdomen, then worked out to her legs. She was meticulous with each one, humming to herself as she went.

She repeated the process for her first abdomen and first thorax. Again, she was attentive to her body, lathering up with lots of soap. It was a lengthy shower and she finished by washing her hair.

A searching hand reached for and grasped a towel that had been provided. Drying herself off, she was still humming, happy to be clean again. She felt renewed. Wrapping the towel around her bust and waist, she stepped out of the tub, stretching out her legs as she did so.

Rachnera paused when her eyes fell upon Winter and the guard. Still humming, she noted they had their eyes closed and were swaying to her music. Smiling, she continued her wordless song. As she did so, on impulse Rachnera reached out with both hands and with great care with her sharpened fingertips, scratched both ponies behind their ears. They hummed in pleasure, almost matching the Arachne’s tune. Her own song was briefly interrupted by the laughter bubbling from her lips. Both mares leaned into the scratching, the guard thumping a leg as fingers found a sweet spot.

This was delightful! Rachnera’s smile was borderline predatory as it grew wider.

Toying with the idea of a little bit of rope play, she decided against it for practical reasons. Her imagination needed little coaxing as she played a scene of exploring the articulation of pony forms into compromising positions. It made her giggle again before pulling her fingers away and ending the pleasuring of the ponies. She bent down and plucked her sweater from the floor while the ponies recovered. She was folding the garment when Winter’s horn glowed with a brighter light than usual.

An apologetic smile followed and the world flashed.

Rachnera yelped, covering her eyes with her sweater. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over her and she was dizzied. It happened in an uncomfortable moment, but when the world stopped spinning, the shaken Arachne lowered her sweater to glare at Winter, words forming on her lips.

Winter Shimmer was no longer there. Rachnera was no longer in the bath, for that matter. Instead, she found herself in a room surrounded by stone walls. Two of the walls had barred windows. A heavy wooden door wreathed in iron was before her. There was a cot and a toilet and nothing else. The stone floor was bare, save for a couple of throw rugs. A neat stack of blankets and a pillow was arranged on the cot.

“Oh,” she realized. “That’s no way to make friends, Winter. I am disappointed.”