Author's Note

I do believe this chapter pretty much warrants the Mature rating, so this is where the story deserves it. Some may disagree, but the writing later on will have people spewing coffee/rum/soft drinks/water at their screens (If that hasn't happened already. For that, I...take no responsibility!). I also don't want a PM from one of the moderators (who I am sure is enjoying this story) telling me that somebody flagged this as inappropriate for the Teen rating. So, let's be descreet, shall we?

In the meantime, please enjoy, leave a comment if you feel you want to, and don't forget to show Rachie a little love!

5. Who Let the Dogs In?

Edited by TuxOKC

Rachnera sighed as she took in her new accomodations.“Why am I not surprised?”

The room was large and modestly furnished. The walls were painted a lighter hue of blue. There was even a working sink and toilet in one corner. There were throw rugs on the floor, a bed in another corner with fresh linen, folded blankets and pillows. A small breakfast table (missed that!) was nestled in a third corner beneath two windows, one in each wall. The fourth nearest the door was bare. A single light bulb dangling from the ceiling lit the room. The only walls without a window was the back wall and where the door was.

A finer prison cell there never was.

The Arachne stared at the light, moving a finger to tap the glass. Her hand shook and she balled her fingers into a fist, pulling them away. She frowned, “They have electricity here? I didn’t even see any wires outside. They must keep it underground because of the winged horses.”

Although disappointed in Winter Shimmer (and still reeling a bit from the method of transportation used to move her here), Rachnera felt she understood the reasoning behind the unicorn’s actions. Magic was a thing and though she was screaming internally, the Arachne exhibited remarkable (albeit tentative) self control of her emotions. It was about the only thing she did have control over.

I am not afraid. I am in control of what I feel. I am in control of what I am. I am in control of who I am. I. Am. Not. Afraid.

Fresh memories of Lucifer left her shuddering.

Brushing aside thoughts of the Bull from Hell, Rachnera explored her cell. The room was nice—for a prison—and was large enough for Rachnera to fit in and even move around. It had the feel of having been converted from something else, perhaps a storage shed or something of the like. The ceiling was high enough for a hammock. Arachnes did not use beds. They made hammocks with their own silk. With nothing better to do, she did just that. It was a simple thing to do. While she was at it, Rachnera decided to web every centimeter of her new home. Doing so would offer comfort.

The reaction from her hosts would be worth it.

As she worked to make herself comfortable, Rachnera wondered what was in store for her. Logic suggested the ponies did not want to hurt her, based on her treatment. It had been strange, but it was as though they had gone out of their way to appease not only their terrifying guest, but also those who lived in the village. It was a tough responsibility and Rachnera was glad she did not have to deal with the politics directly. She knew she was already a political hot potato for the local authorities. No doubt Winter Shimmer was pulling her hair (mane?) out in figuring out how to manage the Arachne’s presence.

Aware she was being watched as she worked, Rachnera would on occasion glance over at the windows. Eyes were peering in, wide and staring.

Remembering she was bare chested, the Arachne used an arm to cover herself. She was not keen on putting her sweater back on. It was dirty and needed to be cleaned. Content to tease (or horrify) her audience, Rachnera gave her work a critical eye, pausing to consider how much silk should go in certain places. To hell with what the ponies thought, she was going to have a comfortable jail cell if there was going to be any amount of time confined within it!

The windows were small and barred. They were large enough for a pony face to peer in and see. Each one had a guard. No doubt they have orders to watch closely, Rachnera thought with a smirk, mindful to not show them too much. She could use a blanket to cover herself, but it would not look right on her. Form fitting garments were always preferred as she did like to show off the curves. Instead, she covered the windows with her silk, clucking her tongue at the guards trying to look in.

“Naughty ponies,” she cooed at them as she barred herself from prying eyes. “Naughty, naughty adorable ponies. You like to watch, don’t you? Just can’t get enough of me. Whatever shall I do with you all?”

They whinnied in protest. The silk did little to muffle their voices. Rachnera belittled them with her laughter. Finishing up the windows, the hammock beckoned. With nothing better to do than wait, the Arachne settled herself into it. In time, a pony would come through the door and something was going to happen. Nothing violent, she surmised, folding her arms and laying her head on them.

Casual observation informed her these ponies were not violent by nature. They were protective and, judging by the minotaurs, tolerant of other species. Seeing something like Rachnera Arachnera had caused a few mild heart attacks (and some nosebleeds).

It was still morning. Rays of sunlight filtered through the webbing covering the windows. The guards spoke with each other, their conversations anything the Arachne could think of. According to her, they were dirty little stories involving a domineering and beautiful and experienced spider girl teasing virgin pony boys. It was something to pass the time, but as the morning wore on, at some point she dozed off. Rachnera considered herself for the most part an open-minded girl, but boredom would always be boredom.

She dreamed of home, of Honey, of taking him and making him hers. Rachnera tasted his lips, her hands sliding down into his pants before shaming him. Yet, he would always know what to say, to make her like putty in his hands. The teasing, always the teasing meeting his honesty and uncanny gift for seeing through Rachnera’s fronts. And always he resisted her advances, his efforts herculean and never failing. Honey played hard to get because he had morals and scruples, which made the dreams all the more fun.

It was one of those dreams to make a girl hot and bothered, where things were both simple and complicated, blurring before becoming too steamy as the dream transitioned to something else.

The door opened. Cracking three eyes open, Rachnera observed a pony walk through the door with a covered tray on its back. It paused, letting its eyes adjust to the dimmer light. It was a unicorn, a male, and he was just now drinking in how much altering Rachnera had done to the cell. He shuddered, looked up, and saw the spider monster looking at him with a sleepy gaze.

Whatever was under the cover of the tray smelled wonderful.

Rachnera waved her fingers at the pony. “Hello, handsome,” she murmured before yawning. Pointing at the table she added, “There’s fine.”

He gave her a nervous smile, nodding. Nostrils flared as his tail flicked a few times. His horn lit up and the tray floated from his back to the table. It hesitated a few times as navigating through spider webbing was a bit tricky. Once on the table, the unicorn managed a shaken whicker before backing out of the cell. The door swung shut from the outside and made a gentle click before the lock was secured.

“Nice talk,” Rachnera sighed as she stretched. “Such a nice dream.” She felt wetness between her pedipalps and giggled, “Such a very nice dream.”

Cleaning herself up, Rachnera hummed, remembering. It was something to cling to, a hope of sorts resonating in her heart. Weaving for herself a shirt and a skirt fitting around her humanoid waist, she wished she had the right instruments for proper weaving. Making due with her quick fingers and dexterity, the garments she created would do for now. She wanted to figure out a means of communicating with the ponies not involving an imminent threat of brain damage.

Lunch was a fish soup. It was complimented by a fruit salad and fresh bread and butter. Rachnera was ravenous, as spinning threads tended to stoke her hunger. Rachnera reminded herself to thank the chef, should she ever find a safe means of communicating. She suspected the minotaur lady had prepared the meal.

Not as good as Honey’s cooking, but not bad at all.

Some time later the tray was retrieved (by a pegasus this time), with Rachnera lazy in her hammock and waiting for something to happen. She had started to pay close attention to the unicorns and had been spending time between dozing thinking about their auras. Each one, she noted, had a different color when their horns lit up. Was it because of her ability to see ultraviolet light? She intended to find out, since her curiosity could at times be insatiable. How strong was this magic? It had to be magic. Or some iteration of physical manipulation on a telekinetic level. Something like this would not be seen on the human world. Liminals with such abilities were secretive about it. If there was something humans were good at, in Rachnera’s opinion, it was taking something they were afraid of and destroying it out of fear. There was a reason some liminals refused to reveal themselves to humanity, despite the Interspecies Cultural Exchange Act passed by the Japanese government. Other national governments had since passed laws on integrating liminals with humans in hopes of a peaceful coexistence.

Magical liminals did exist, but kept to themselves. Some scars could not or would not heal.

Was there a connection between this world and the human one? Rachnera hoped so. Her own knowledge was sketchy at best, bolstered by stories she had learned as a young child. Of course, there were rumors, always rumors among liminals. In between stories and speculation was always some tale involving magic.

Rachnera had already been subjected to this magic, twice. No matter how she tried to break down what happened, she was baffled.

She was now incredibly bored. At least if she knew the language, she could tease the guards to amuse herself. Warm, lovely, sadistic conversations were stimulating, got the gears between the ears churning, and did wonders for blood circulation. The reactions were priceless. Alas, there was the issue with said language and she wasn’t about to flaunt the goods callously. A good read would have been nice. She did enjoy learning facts and tidbits, for the most part as future ammunition for antagonizing her housemates.

But here..?

She was terribly, horribly bored.

Bored. Bored. Bored!

She muttered, “I wish something would happen.”

Nothing did. Rachnera had hoped something would. Alas, her words did not magically create a moment where something did happen. Wishful thinking? Smirking, she sighed, shook her head, and settled down to do the only thing available to her: slack off.

There was a sound.

At first, she assumed it was one of the guards scraping against the door while peering in. It stopped. Rachnera began to drift off again. The scraping began again. Opening her eyes, they roved over towards the door and she tilted her head to one side, holding her breath as she focused. It was not the door. The scraping grew louder. It was muffled and drew her attention.

The...floor?

No, beneath the floor. Digging. Something was digging. Not a pony. No, they were all outside, being a thin line...is it to protect me from the village or the village from me? Rachnera shrugged as she plucked herself from the hammock. Calling out to the guards would probably be the smart thing, but the Arachne was bored. Below, digging through the ground, was potential excitement. But who, or what was digging? They were moving fast, the scrape, scrape, scraping having a frantic urgency to it.

Rachnera removed her hammock and let the threads fall upon the bed. Assuming an ambush position on the ceiling, she waited in eager anticipation. Chitinous fingers flexed, razor sharp claws flashed.

The scraping was closer now. She could and should alert the guards. What was coming was unknown. But, Rachnera held the element of surprise.

The stone floor loosened with a pop as something pushed up from beneath it. It came up slow and easy, as if what was beneath it was wary and on guard. The stone was pulled down while the hole widened. Claws scrabbled and scraped, grabbed and ripped; the dirt and stone giving way as though it was nothing. The hole widened more until it was a meter or so across. Rachnera, curious, watched and waited.

There were dog sounds coming from the bottom of the hole. Wuffing sounds, along with a whine or two. A growl followed. A terrier head appeared. It was shaggy and had triangular ears. The fur was peppered and the snout was pink and black. Large brown eyes peered into the gloomy room. The nose sniffed, testing the air. Slowly the dog emerged, his eyes not at all liking what they were observing. Webbing was everywhere.

He did not see the six crimson slits glowing above him. The distance between the two was very short and the dog was already smelling something was off. He looked up.

Rachnera smiled at him. “Who’s a bad boy?” she whispered in a husky voice. Spider legs moved with blurred speed, silk already rammed into the dog’s mouth before his mind could register what was happening.

He was hoisted and spun, around and around and around. The spinnerets did their work. In seconds, he was dangling from the ceiling, bits of fur and his clothing (he was only wearing a dirty brown vest) poking through the cocoon. Bulging eyes stared as the dog tried to howl. Rachnera smiled, patted him on the head (adding a good scritch because she felt like it), and turned her attention back to the hole in the middle of her cell.

Another head poked up. This was smaller, a...dachshund? Ah, a weiner dog. Such a little weiner, too. The poor thing. He was half the size of his partner now dangling next to the Arachne.

Muffled yips and yelps were coming from the terrier. This caught the attention of the dachshund. With ears perking, he cocked his head to one side, and looked up.

Rachnera darted in, giggling. You spin me right round, baby! Right round like a record, baby!
Right round round round!

A smaller ball of silk now hung next to the larger one. A pair of muffled doggie voices could be heard. If left ungagged, they might have been yelps of pure terror. Rachnera was not done. There was at least one or two more dogs in the hole. One leg alternated between the two dogs, giving them a push so they swayed in the air. They tried to make louder noises, but there was a sudden, horrific and intimidating face switching between them, with glowing red eyes and a sadistic, fang-filled grin silencing them.

The dachshund passed out. His larger friend urinated on himself.

“Ew,” Rachnera said, recoiling. “Not housebroken. Right.” She moved him to the corner where he could soak and think about what he just did.

She lowered herself to the floor, her legs straddling the hole. Peering down, she saw a pair of eyes staring up at her. Rachnera smiled and waved before flicking her wrist down. Silk whipped from her fingers, the ends a glob of sticky webbing. They caught something and she gave a yank upwards, using her weight and strength as leverage. A flailing bipedal canine was her reward, this one what appeared to be a bulldog with a huge underbite. He snapped and snarled at the Arachne and succeeded in spinning in place while a free hand encouraged the action. Two spider legs began the process of wrapping him up.

The dog howled. It was the sort of sound one might associate with said dog being beaten to within an inch of its life. Rachnera wished she had a rolled up newspaper with which to smack him across the nose. Was that not something done when disciplining a bad dog?

The commotion had the guards outside moving and sounding the alarm. There was a whinny that might have been heard from the top of Mount Fuji. Rachnera arranged her prizes as a fisherman might arrange his catch of the day, from largest to smallest. The terrier was the largest, and he had peed himself, so he was furthest away.

The door swung open, a guard came snorting in. A spear was in one hoof, ready to strike. He had neither wings nor a horn. Rachnera noted with idle interest the winged guards were not often on the ground.

Sweeping an arm towards her prizes, Rachnera sang, “Look what I found!” She glided to one side, clasping her hands together, and was very proud of herself.

The guard threw a look over his shoulder let out a shrill neigh. A pony outside responded and there was the sound of hooves pounding the ground and fading away. He said something to the dogs. They whined and whimpered through their gags. Rachnera reached out with a hand and gave a lazy tug, sending the dachshund in a slow spin. Smiling still, she gestured as if giving the dogs to the pony, pantomiming the motion a few times. She then pointed at the hole in the floor.

“They came from there,” she said, speaking with deliberate slowness. “The dogs are for you.” Rachnera repeated the motions of gifting the dogs to the pony.

The guard seemed to understand, offering a nod as he let out an explosive breath. Snorting, he poked at some of the webbing in the room with his spear, tilting his head to one side and regarding the Arachne with a deadpan.

She shrugged, then placed her hands on her hips, “A spider’s got to spider.”

This inability to speak the same language was becoming annoying and frustrating. The guard seemed to have a clue and pulled his spear back. He examined the silk clinging to the steel before backing up enough to fill the doorway with his form. Rachnera met his eyes with her own. He held her gaze for a moment before his orbs dropped, stopped, and stared. It became an uncomfortable moment.

“Hey,” the Arachne said, thrusting her chest forward, “I’m up here!” Her legs skittered beneath her, tapping the stone floor. The pony stared up at her face, then down at her legs. He swallowed hard, gave a wan smile, and found the dogs interesting objects of study.

Rachnera rolled her eyes and snatched up her sweater from the cot. Not happy with having to put on soiled clothing...wait, why was it folded? Why did it smell fresh? Why was it clean? She held it up, gave it another sniff, and grew a pleased smile.

“Oh, that was sweet! One of you must have cleaned it while I was napping!” She put it on, mindful the pony was staring again at her breasts. Proud of her mounds, there was still the question as to why quadrupeds with mammaries situated between the hind legs of their mares would find them fascinating. As she pulled the hem of the sweater down around her waist, she said to herself, “Boys will be boys no matter how many legs they stand on, because of their cocks. If they find something interesting on a girl, they stare and they get hard.”

Smirking at the guard, she quipped while giving the dachshund another lazy spin, “Dicks. Dicks never change.” Rachnera pointed at the guard. “Oh, so you do keep yours in a sheath! That is so precious!”

The guard blushed, his ears splayed back. He shuffled his hooves to conceal his salute.

Rachnera went on, “For such a little guy, you have a bit of length there. I’ll bet you get all the ladies, don’t you?” She reached forward and tickled his chin with her fingertips. Mindful of her sharps edges, she went on, “I don’t think you guys are too bad. You’re strange, your world is strange, but you do seem a bit more accepting than most humans. Just scared of me, I suppose, and that can’t be helped.”

The pony guard was blushing, but did not pull away. It probably did not occur to him to not let the prisoner give him such nice scritches under his chin. A happy whicker erupted from his throat as he stretched his neck out for more attention.

More guards appeared behind the stallion. Helmets gleamed in the early afternoon sun. Was the day already that far along? Rachnera felt her nap had been longer than she had first thought. It had to have been if one of the ponies had managed to sneak in and out unnoticed at some point. Still, that was a thought to ponder another time, along with how they managed to put her in this cell in a wink of an eye.

The stallion backed out, allowing for more guards to swarm in. They stopped and gawked in amazement at the dogs. The dachshund was still spinning. The largest dog was still wet...and rank. The middle dog could not tear his eyes from the spider legs. Rachnera fell behind the dogs, putting her hands up and showing her palms. She hummed to herself and offered a smile. The ponies discussed the dogs among themselves, with more than a few glances tossed at the Arachne. They were nervous and still afraid of her.

They tried to pluck the dogs from where they hung from the ceiling, but Rachnera’s silk was very strong. They tugged and tugged, but the captives were held fast. One of the ponies looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes.

“Let me get that for you,” she acquiesced, raising high on her legs and reaching for the silk holding the dogs up. Nervous horse sounds were heard, but none bolted.

The ponies seemed to understand what she was doing and waited. They were pensive and wary of her. The dachshund was cut down with a casual swipe of her fingers. He was caught by two ponies and hauled out. The bulldog followed, wriggling still in his silk wrappings, eyes bugging and never leaving the Arachne. She wriggled a farewell with her fingers and blew him a kiss as he was taken outside. The terrier that had wet himself was next and a unicorn came into the cell, the others refusing to touch the dog. Rachnera cut him down and he was floated out.

The Arachne shivered. Seeing unicorn magic was uncomfortable, considering the potential dangers she had already been exposed to. Then there was what Winter had done. Some sort of teleportation? A transference? Star Trek levels of science fiction with a real life application? Or good old fashioned magic in a world where it seems to come as easy as breathing? There had to be limitations and weaknesses. What were the rules? How were they different from where she had come from? If the sun and the moon were a part of the magic (a muted, horrific realization that threatened to shut down the thought process), then known notions of physics and natural laws might not apply here. Magic followed its own rules, but they were still rules.

Rachnera had no idea what they were.

There was still the matter of the hole in the floor and the tunnel beyond. Two guards were at its edge and staring down into the darkness. The liminal’s pedipalps flicked and kicked out before tapping on the floor. She leaned over and joined them in staring into the abyss below. A forefinger curled around her chin. What were the dogs looking for? They weren’t armed, but if those claws tore through the ground as though it was nothing, weapons weren’t needed. They could also bite. The tunnel was maybe a meter in diameter, but there was no way of telling if it was wider or more narrow further in.

She hummed in thought, lifting her chin, “I think I see. Their children.” It made sense and both Random and his mother had mentioned the matter. The two ponies were stepping away from her. Rachnera made a show of cradling a baby. “They were looking for their children,” she pantomimed with her left hand as she spoke with slow, deliberate words.

They nodded, as if they understood and started talking excitedly to each other in their pony barnyard language.

There was an authoritative neigh at the door. The door was seeing a lot of traffic for a jail.

Winter had come. Her frosty attention was on the Arachne, who gave a simple wave. Roving eyes drank in the webbed room, then went back to Rachnera. The spider monster shrugged her shoulders and spread her hands in a helpless manner. A finger pointed downwards, bobbing like a cork. Winter tilted her head down and saw the hole. A sigh hissed out from between clenched teeth. The two guards spoke to her and her ears swiveled to them. Her eyes never left the tunnel at her hooves. When they finished, she was silent, her eyes still boring into the darkness.

She made curt horse noises to the two. Lifting her head, she beckoned at the Arachne to follow even as she turned and started for the door.

Rachnera stepped over the hole and skittered past the two guards, eager to get out of her cell.