The gate of bone didn’t just open—it peeled. Each rib of it unlatched like fingers stretching after too long clenched, exposing a yawning darkness beyond. The air that ca through wasn’t just stale—it was alive, saturated with the musk of old webs and the tallic tang of ancient blood.
Allen stepped through first, his cock still glistening from the Broodpit’s chaos, his chest still slick with sweat and faint streaks of silk. Fina padded after him, rubbing her thighs together without sha. Rinni clung to his arm, eyes darting to every movent in the shadows, and Syza trailed behind, trembling—not from fear, but from the raw hunger written all over her face.
The tunnel was narrow, forcing them to brush against the walls. And the walls... they pulsed. Threads ran along them like veins, glowing faintly, pulsing in rhythm with Allen’s heartbeat as if the Hollow itself was syncing to him.
They erged into a cavern so vast the ceiling was lost in the dark. Massive silk bridges crisscrossed overhead, so swaying under the weight of shapes too large to be seen clearly. Below, the ground was uneven, coated in thick strands that clung to boots and skin alike.
Sothing moved.
It ca down like a shadow falling from the ceiling—a massive figure, half-woman, half-spider, her lower body the size of a carriage. Her upper half was tall, regal, and beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. Her hair was long, black as oil, with strands tipped in silver. Her eyes—eight of them—glimred like gems in the dark.
"So... the Webmother has a new mate." Her voice was velvet over steel, carrying a weight that made Syza step back instinctively.
Allen didn’t stop walking toward her. "You’re not hers," he said plainly.
Her lips curled into a smile. "No. I am older than her. I was the First Spinner, when the Hollow was young and the gods feared our web. They call Nyxilith." She tilted her head. "And now you’ve stirred the nest enough that I woke from my long hunger."
Allen stopped a few steps from her, looking up at her towering form without the slightest hint of submission. "Hunger, huh? Then why are you still talking?"
Her smile widened, fangs glinting. "Because I am deciding whether to eat you... or keep you."
Before she could move, the silk under Allen’s boots twitched—not against him, but for him. The web responded to his will, shivering like an obedient pet. Nyxilith’s many eyes narrowed.
"...I see," she whispered. "The Webmother wasn’t lying. You are the Weaver now."
Allen smirked. "Guess you’ve got your answer then."
Nyxilith lowered herself until her human half was nearly at his level. The air between them was hot with her scent—musky, intoxicating, laced with so primal compulsion. Even Fina wavered slightly, her pupils dilating, and Rinni’s grip on Allen’s arm tightened as if she might lt if she let go.
"I will test you," Nyxilith said softly, but her tone carried the promise of sothing brutal. Her clawed hand reached out, tracing over Allen’s chest, saring silk and sweat together. "If you can break , I will weave for you the Forgotten Hollow’s brood. If you cannot..." She smiled. "You’ll feed them instead."
Allen’s only reply was to grab her wrist, yank her forward, and kiss her hard enough that her fangs grazed his lips. She hissed, surprised, but didn’t pull back.
The silk around them trembled.
Then everything moved fast.
Nyxilith shoved him back into a web-wall so tight and sticky it should have held him—but the strands loosened instantly under his will, letting him step forward instead. She blinked at the defiance just long enough for him to grab her by the hips, twist her massive body, and slam her upper half against the ground.
Her many legs curled and kicked, not in resistance but in wild arousal.
"You think you can ta ?" she hissed, her voice trembling for the first ti in centuries.
Allen’s grin was sharp. "No. I will."
He pressed her down, the web itself aiding him, wrapping her limbs—not to immobilize, but to present. Her hips were lifted, her spider abdon angled upward, exposing the seam where her human softness t her arachnid lower half. The flesh there pulsed, glistening with readiness, scent flooding the Hollow until every brood-sister above began to moan faintly.
Allen slid inside her slowly, deliberately, letting every inch sink into her until her voice cracked into a guttural moan that shook the bridge above them.
The rhythm he set was relentless—every thrust deep enough to make her claws dig into the ground, her eight eyes rolling back, her voice slipping from regal challenge to broken, gasping worship. The web all around them quivered in sympathy, as if every strand in the Forgotten Hollow was sharing in her defeat.
Fina leaned against a pillar of silk, smirking. "Oh, he’s ruining her."
Rinni just stared, face flushed, thighs pressed together. "I... I’ve never heard soone that big sound so small."
By the ti Allen finally pulled out, Nyxilith was trembling, her fangs bared—not in threat, but in ecstasy. The silk under her glowed faintly with the heat of her climax, and her breath ca in ragged bursts.
She turned her head, looking up at him with sothing like devotion. "...Weaver."
Allen’s hand gripped her chin, forcing her to et his gaze. "Mine now."
Her smile this ti was genuine—and dangerous. "Then the Forgotten Hollow is yours, too."
Sowhere deeper in the cavern, sothing stirred. A vibration through the silk—not of prey, but of another predator. Nyxilith’s smile didn’t fade.
"You’ve claid ," she whispered. "But if you want the Hollow’s heart... you’ll have to claim her, too."
The darkness beyond the far bridge pulsed.
And whatever waited there was already moving toward them.
The pulse in the silk bridges above grew heavier, almost like a heartbeat that wasn’t their own, sending faint shivers through the strands under Allen’s boots. Nyxilith didn’t move from where she lay, her massive spider legs slowly curling in toward herself like she was basking in the aftershocks of what he’d done to her, but her eight eyes were locked toward the far end of the cavern. The air shifted—thicker, warr—carrying a scent that even Fina and Rinni picked up on, their heads turning toward the sa shadowed corridor.
From the darkness, she ca.
Not descending like Nyxilith had, but striding forward with slow, deliberate steps, each one making the silk beneath her ripple. She was tall, taller than Nyxilith’s human half, with long silver hair braided in thick cords that swayed as she moved. Her lower body wasn’t spider at all—it was segnted like a centipede, armored and black, her legs clicking softly against the silk as if tapping out a rhythm only she knew. Her upper body was wrapped in bands of chitin, leaving gaps where pale, smooth skin showed through, her breasts half-bared as though modesty had been an abandoned concept centuries ago. Her eyes—six, not eight—were molten gold, fixed on Allen as though he were the only living thing in the Hollow.
Nyxilith’s voice was almost reverent, though still edged with challenge. "The Hollow’s heart... Xilthera."
The newcor didn’t look at Nyxilith, didn’t glance at Fina, Rinni, or Syza. She walked right up until she was nearly chest-to-chest with Allen, her long segnted body curling in a loose arc around them like a living wall. Her voice was low, silk-smooth but threaded with sothing sharp.
"So... this is the one who bound the Webmother, broke Nyxilith, and walks unbound in my Hollow." Her gaze slid slowly down Allen’s chest, lingering lower before snapping back up to his eyes. "You’ve stirred my brood. The silk sings your na. But I want to hear it from your own mouth."
Allen didn’t blink. "Allen."
Her lips curled in sothing between a smirk and a hungry snarl. "Allen." She said it like she was tasting the sound. "You are either a storm sent to tear my nest apart... or the only male worth keeping alive in a thousand years."
"Then you already know which," he said flatly, stepping into her space rather than away from it. The faint click of her chitin plates shifting was the only sound between them for a long mont.
"You think you can take ," she said—not quite a question, more an amused observation.
Allen’s smirk was a perfect mirror of hers. "I don’t think. I know."
That was the spark.
Her body moved like a whip—segnts twisting, legs hooking, her chitin scraping against the silk as she surged forward. The impact of her lower body curling around him should have pinned him instantly, but the web under his feet pulsed at his command, loosening, sliding, letting him twist with her motion until they were locked together, neither yielding. The air filled with the faint, rhythmic hum of the silk vibrating from their struggle, a sound that drew whispers from the brood above, shapes shifting in the shadows to watch.
Xilthera’s many legs brushed over him as she circled, their tips feather-light but undeniably possessive, testing every inch of him. She pressed her forehead to his, her eyes bright with that molten hunger. "If you break ," she murmured, "you don’t just take —you take all of it. Every strand, every egg, every brood-sister. The Hollow becos your womb to fill."
Allen’s answer was to grab the back of her head and kiss her hard enough to make her exhale a hiss through her fangs. She didn’t pull away—instead, her body surged forward, wrapping around him entirely, the segnts of her lower half coiling until she’d pulled herself flush against him from every angle.
The silk trembled under them.
The rhythm between them shifted from combat to sothing darker, heavier, the Hollow itself almost leaning in, the brood above whispering like wind through a thousand strings. Fina’s lips parted slightly, her eyes hooded, while Rinni was caught between awe and arousal, her cheeks pink and her breathing shallow. Even Syza’s knees pressed together, her gaze locked on Allen like she was watching a predator she couldn’t look away from.
Xilthera’s voice was a growl now, her breath hot against his ear. "Show , Weaver. Show why she gave herself to you. Show why Nyxilith moans your na." Her claws traced down his spine, pressing just enough to sting. "Make yours... or I’ll feed on you slow."
Allen didn’t waste ti answering. His hands slid to the gaps in her chitin, gripping the exposed skin of her hips hard enough to make her inhale sharply. The silk around them shifted again, thickening into a cradle that lifted them both slightly off the ground, forcing her to tilt just enough for him to drive into her with the first, claiming thrust.
Her reaction was instant—a hiss that turned into a guttural moan, her entire segnted body tightening around him as though the Hollow itself had clenched. The silk bridges above shivered violently, several brood-sisters gasping aloud. Nyxilith’s fangs glinted as she smiled, watching her fellow queen’s composure lt.
Allen didn’t slow. Each thrust was deep, calculated, breaking through the armor of her dominance until the growl in her throat cracked into sothing breathless and needy. Her golden eyes lost focus, her claws gripping his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, and still he didn’t let up. The web beneath them pulsed in rhythm, amplifying every sound, every shudder of her body.
By the ti he finally let her climax crash over her, the entire cavern felt alive with it—the silk humming, the brood moaning, Nyxilith biting her lip like she’d been pulled into it too. Xilthera collapsed against him, her lower body still twitching around him in aftershocks, her breath hot and ragged.
When she finally lifted her head, there was no challenge left in her voice—only a dangerous kind of devotion. "Weaver..." she breathed. "The Hollow is yours."
Allen’s grin was sharp and satisfied. "Good. Then we’ve got work to do."
Sowhere deep in the shadows beyond, the silk trembled again—but this ti it wasn’t from pleasure. It was a warning. Sothing was moving in the tunnels beyond the Hollow, sothing not born of silk or brood.
And Allen was already smiling at the thought of eting it.
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