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Thirteen
SLOANE
I guessedit was time to sleep for spider-dude. He positioned himself on the opposite side of me from the fire, crossed his arms, and leaned back with his eyes closed.
He seemed hurt by my behavior, but you try being forced to orgasm thirty times in a row—you’d be a little distraught after that too.
Especially because I had a feeling I knew what was happening now.
I was monster mad.
Like, for reals, not just saying it on Instagram, because I wanted to get railed by a bullman and drown in hot tasty cum.
I mean, who didn’t?
But what was happening to me was theactualdefinition of the term.
I wanted—well, my body wanted—a monster.
Thismonster, apparently.
Which was possiblythe mostinsane thing I’d ever done. And trust me, I had enough money to do alotof dumb shit.
Plus also? If that happened? My dad would kill him. No doubt.
I’m not saying my father was an evil supervillain, but the man always got his way—which was another one of the reasons why we fought so hard all the time, because he never wanted to let me do my own thing.
The island he’d created for my concert had been a crazy technological innovation—it was ocean-powered, self-sustaining, actuallygoodfor the environment; coral reefs were going to grow below it—and I’d thought it was maybe the first time he actually got me and wanted to support me, you know? Everything was on the verge of being nice between us, for like the first time ever...when everything switched to being really, truly fucking bad.
I’d never heard guns in person before, until that show. Nothing could’ve prepared me for how dangerous they sounded in real life. And then seeing my friends and fans get shot, and all of the screaming?
I’d spent the first week or so in the cage being catatonic. Occasionally my captors would shove a stick in to poke me to make sure I was still alive.
I just wished I could do so much differently. Like go back in time. Make different choices. Hire different security. Pick a different sperm donor. Live a different life.
And now—fuckingnow—I had clearly cracked.
That was why I was lusting after some insect-man—because I couldn’t handle reality.
My body had decided that it was better to live in a hole in the dirt with a spider than it was to ever resurface again, and you know, come to think on it, it had a fucking point.
I wentto sleep for a bit, then woke up. I had no idea how much time had passed, but spider-dude was still passed out nearby.
What wasn’t asleep was my vagina.
Jesus H. Christ.
I was torn between moving and not moving—like, I didn’t want spider-dude to catch me rubbing one out—but at the same time, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to function again until I did.
I had some self-respect. Right?
I sat up slowly, and that didn’t wake him up.
He’d left the lantern on, thank god, and sitting the way I was now, I could crab walk, one good foot, hands, and ass away from him. If I could just get to the edge of the light—I didn’t want to go out into the dark, but maybe if I could get away from him I could pretend to be going to the bathroom, not touching myself where he couldn’t see.
I scooted a few more lengths away from him and sat down. I would knock one out, I would actually pee, and then I’d crawl back to the fire until—I heard a fearsome chittering—and it wasn’t coming from behind me.
“Spider-dude!” I shouted, just as something raced up and shot a wad of something wet and sticky at my ankle.
