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Blackarachnia's Tangled Web

A Transformers: Beast Wars fanfiction

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by JadeStyx

Author's Note: Transformers: Beast Wars is copyright © Hasbro Inc., and is not the property of this author. No profit is made from this story.

The winds of the wild places were a comfort to the ebon-armored female robot, who knelt on the edge of a cliff face overlooking the woods of the great wild places that covered almost the whole of the beautiful paradise she and the others like her had landed upon. It seemed like such a long time, but in reality the Transformers had only been on this strange and wonderful world for less than a year. In that time, however, the two warring factions, Maximals and Predicons, had turned the unspoiled paradise into a battleground, continuing the war that began on Cybertron in yet another venue. That war, of course, took up most of Blackarachnia's attention, and she did her best to stay one step ahead, to somehow come out on top of both sides, without quite giving in to the entreaties of Optimus Primal or Megatron, playing the edges against each other for her own profit. Sometimes, though, it got to be too much, even for the treacherous spiderlady, and she had to get some space to just breathe.

Now was one of those times.

Though she didn't really like to talk about it, since such things were considered malfunctioning behavior among the robotic Transformers, Blackarachnia was an intensely sexual creature. Unlike the many fleshling races that populated the universe, Transformers didn't need to have sex to reproduce, but at the same time they were equipped with sexual apparatus upon their creation, and often felt strange urges that they could not fully explain or dismiss. This strange contradiction was considered an embarrassment by the majority of Transformers, who took pains to conceal their genitalia behind layers of thick armor plating and cunning moldings of metal and advanced plastic and ceramic, and who never discussed anything related to sexual matters, ever, preferring not to even acknowledge that such disgusting, weak, fleshling-like behavior could possibly taint their mechanical perfection. Blackarachnia, though...well, she wasn't the sort of person to lie to herself, no matter how many lies she might tell to others. She'd been created with a form that was very uniquely feminine, shapely and lithesome, and even other Transformers had to admit she was attractive - by Cybertron, she was gorgeous, and knew it! Normally, that innate, obvious sexuality was an advantage for Blackarachnia, something she could use against others, putting them off their guard around her, uncomfortable staring at her essentially naked body and sleek, gleaming metal breasts. It was even worse for the Transformers on this beautiful, life-filled world, as both Maximals and Predacons had been forced to take on shapes that were closer to the natural world surrounding them, and hence vastly more susceptible to the lures of the flesh. This only made Blackarachnia's obvious sexuality even more of an asset when dealing with her enemies and allies, regardless of which side she was on at the present moment, distracting them all from picking up on all but the most obvious of her many little treacheries.

Sometimes, though, being such a sexual creature had its drawbacks. Blackarachnia shuddered as she remembered the events of the previous night, of crawling stealthily through the ducts of the Predacon base in her spider form, only, quite suddenly, to discover that she was unable to move her legs. It was a trap! In an instant, nearly transparent strands of webbing lashed upward all around the female spider, snagging her legs, flipping her upside-down and suspending her in the air. Of course, there was only one other spider on the planet, and though Blackarachnia felt no surprise when the hairy, bloated form of Tarantulas made its way down the wide duct, heading toward her with sadistic intent, she did feel disgust and a cold bolt of fear through her circuits.

Of all the Transformers, Tarantulas was the one with whom Blackarachnia had spent the most time, as much out of convenience as necessity. Since they shared arachnid forms, it was only natural that the lithe and agile black widow and the bulky and weighty tarantula should use the same series of wide ductways for transport. This meant, for Blackarachnia, that she needed to keep Tarantulas occupied as much as possible, needed to keep him placated and sated in a variety of ways. One of those ways, of course, was sexual. Tarantulas was a sickening sadist and pervert, even beyond anything that Blackarachnia could endure for long, however, and so she felt little uncertainty over what he was about to do to her now. The only question she had was: would this time be fatal?

"Ah, Blackarachnia," cooed Tarantulas in his most gooey, oozing voice as he stroked a thick, hairy appendage along the she-spider's long, suspended legs, making her shudder involuntarily. "Just the delightful person I was wanting to see. Fancy meeting you here."

"What do you want, Tarantulas?" Blackarachnia demanded with far more confidence than she felt, knowing all-too-well from watching Tarantulas toying with the rats that scurried through the ducts just what the wicked tarantula scientist was capable of doing. "I'm a very busy girl."

"Oh, I know it well," answered Tarantulas with obscene glee, making Blackarachnia suck in breath through her clenched pedipalps as he caressed the clawed tip of his leg over her exposed, upthrust abdomen, teasing especially against the red hourglass found there, knowing how sensitive she was at that spot when in this form. "You're a treacherous little minx, and I've always known that. I allow it, though, and I've never reported you, no matter how many little indiscretions you might commit. And you know why, don't you, my dear?"

"I give you what you want," Blackarachnia got out, her mouthparts tensing even more, even as she desperately wished she had eyelids in this form, so that she could squeeze them shut, and not be forced to watch as Tarantulas caressed her epigyne, right below her red hourglass, then teased his clawtips into that subtly pulsing opening, while another of those disgusting, fingerlike appendages stroked down her body still further, until he was teasing its clawtips against her tensely-clenched anus, right below her spinnerets.

"Yes," agreed Tarantulas, suddenly withdrawing his hairy legs the moment Blackarachnia's genital slit started to moisten. "You always give me what I want. That's why I haven't told anyone about your spying, or turned you in for keeping those secret comm links around the base, or put you into any of my experiments...until now."

Despite herself, despite all her efforts to stay cool and collected even in the multieyed face of Tarantulas' evil, Blackarachnia couldn't stifle the soft whine that came from her breathing slits, her whole body starting to tremble. If there was any fate that Blackarachnia would never wish on anyone, no matter what they'd done to her, it was to be at Tarantulas' "mercy" when he was in the mood for scientific experimentation. Now, it was her turn to suffer before the vile scientist's devious imagination, her turn to learn what true anguish was like, just as it had been for so many others before her.

"Oh, don't be like that," chuckled the bloated tarantula, even as he reached for a webbing pouch attached to the underside of his abdomen. "I don't intend to kill you with this experiment...on purpose, of course. Who knows? You might even enjoy it. Well..." he chuckled again, pulling something out of the pouch, "if you survive."

Partially bent over as she was, Blackarachnia couldn't help but stare at the smooth crystal cylinder clutched in Tarantulas' claw. She'd seen that crystal before, though it had been a while, and it took a few moments before she could retrieve the memory of where and when she'd seen it last into her conscious mind. Knowing his victim was helpless, though, Tarantulas was in no hurry, taking his time to gently stroke his shaggy limbs over the she-spider's smooth, supple, surprisingly flexible carapace, savoring each sensation, each tremble of his intended victim's body at his touch. Tarantulas knew he was a repugnant creature, knew full well just how much Blackarachnia loathed him and the things he made her do. Knew it, and loved it, for her fear and loathing and disgust just fueled his lust for the lithesome spiderette all the more, setting his passions aflame with his need to push her to the very limits of what she could bear, and all for him. No, sex wasn't the real motivation for Tarantulas, as much of a taboo act it might be among the Transformers. For him, the emotional and mental anguish he caused to the dark-carapaced spiderfemme was more than enough for him to always come back, and never reveal what naughtiness she'd been up to. After all, if he told Megatron what Blackarachnia intended, he'd never get to play with her like this.

Her body jerking suddenly as Tarantulas teased the smooth crystal against her epigyne, Blackarachnia suddenly remembered where she'd seen it last. It had been in Tarantulas' laboratory, while she'd been on a fairly ordinary stealthy tour of the ducts, peeking in on each of the Predacons in turn, just as a routine observation. Tarantulas, in his robot mode, had been puttering with something on one of the tables of his lab, while on another, a small white rat, a female, had been strapped on her back to a table, spread-eagled. The little mammal struggled with all her might, but she was too firmly bound to have a hope of escape. Knowing some horror was coming next, all the same, Blackarachnia couldn't simply turn away, as drawn to the demented acts of the spider scientist as she was repulsed. Soon Tarantulas turned, holding a crystal cylinder, much like the one he was brandishing right then, except a great deal smaller. Rat-sized. The little she-rat started to struggle more desperately as Tarantulas approached her table, giving a host of frantic little squeaks as the shadow of the mechanical maniac fell ominously over her. Carefully teasing the tip of the cylinder down the little white rat's body, Tarantulas was obviously taking his time, doing his best not to injure his test subject, at least right then. Blackarachnia could only watch in horrified fascination as the little rat's struggles started to build in intensity...but not because of pain or fear. No, the writhing little rat's squirming on the table came, as the she-spider's sensitive olfactory sensors told her clearly, from arousal.

Suddenly, Tarantulas' hand thrust forward, and the rat gave a loud, drawn-out squeak! as her entire body seized up, arching upward in what was, even to the most untrained of eyes, a mind-blowingly intense orgasm. Giving his wicked chuckle, a sound Blackarachnia would never be able to cleanse from her memory banks, Tarantulas continued to thrust the rat-sized crystal, harder, faster, making his helpless victim writhe until, quite suddenly, she simply went limp, her eyes open but unseeing, her small chest heaving, obviously utterly spent. Pulling the crystal out of the she-rat's slit, Tarantulas turned his back, muttering something to himself about unexpectedly high readings as he went to his worktable to study the crystal and the juices left on it by the little rat. In that brief span of inattention, Blackarachnia felt one of her rare moments of pity, and slid smoothly down into the room, making not a sound. Carefully, so as not to be heard or seen, she flicked a clawed finger at the rat's restraints, angling her work to make it look uneven, like the teeth of a rat might do, and then scooped the limp little animal into her hands, using her robot form's protruding spider appendages to pull herself up, back into the ducts. Once she'd gotten a safe distance away and the white rat had started to revive somewhat, she released the well-used little creature, then went back to ensure that she'd left no trace of her passing. She'd been certain that she'd covered her tracks well, that Tarantulas couldn't possible have known it was her that stole his test subject from behind his back, so what was about to happen to her couldn't have been revenge.

No, this wasn't revenge at all: Tarantulas had been intending to use that crystal on her from the start.

"I'm sure you've encountered the strange prudishness of our kind many times, my dear," cooed the vile tarantula in hideous glee as he continued to caress Blackarachnia's helpless body with his many limbs, the Transformer-sized crystal cylinder rubbing in small circles around her tense epigyne again and again, causing her to grow moist and swollen down there despite herself, strange emanations radiating from the crystal directly into her neural network's interface. "It's irrational, really, to deny a part of what we are, as I'm sure you'll agree. I suffer a similar reaction from those who learn about what I do in my lab, and I admit to being just as mystified by such reactions...though I admit, seeing the faces of the unprepared is quite a lot of fun! Ah, but I digress," Tarantulas paused the slightly pointed tip of the cylinder over Blackarachnia's slit, and started to gently tease it downward, just barely parting her genital folds, making her whole body tense in his webbing despite all her efforts to remain in control of herself. "What you want to know is what this," he wiggled the cylinder back and forth a few times to illustrate, making Blackarachnia's body jerk like a marionette on a string, "happens to be, and what it will do to you. I'll be happy to tell you, of course, my dear: this," he twisted it slowly then, and Blackarachnia saw flashes of light before her eyes, realizing that he'd caused a sudden surge of pleasure through her circuits so powerful, it had caused a momentary short of her visual centers, "is a data crystal. Specifically, a pleasure data crystal. I've been investigating the capacity for pleasure possessed by several dozen different species, and I've mapped out each of my specimens' brains, exploring all their erogenous zones in the greatest detail. And every time I made such a mapping, I stored the data in the crystal matrix of my primary computer. Finally, I decided it was time for the final testing phase, and had several of these," and once again, Tarantulas gyrated the smooth crystal cylinder, this time making the helpless she-spider cry out loudly, "made up earlier today while I was in my rest cycle. Now," two droplets of dark green venom splashed against the floor as they dripped from Tarantulas' fangs, the arachnid equivalent of eager drooling, "I think they're ready for a proper field test."

Blackarachnia knew there was no point in begging for mercy: Tarantulas wasn't programmed to even comprehend mercy, let alone be able to show it to a helpless victim. All such futile pleading would do would be to make him all the more brutal, all the more eager to make her writhe. Not that Blackarachnia ever intended to beg for mercy in the first place, her pride too great to allow herself to show such weakness, even in the midst of her present travail. She would never give in! She'd never let Tarantulas have the satisfaction of...oh! Oh! OOOH!

"AAAAIIIIIIEEEE!" wailed the squirming spiderfemme, her ears filling with Tarantulas' wicked laugh as he started to pump his clawed foreleg up and down rapidly, the cylinder pistoning in and out of Blackarachian's epigyne as it glowed brightly. In mere moments, all her resistances, all her pride, everything she had to push against Tarantulas' will, was gone, just like that, all of it lost in a sudden overwhelming crashing wave of pleasure so intense, everything else went blank for Blackarachnia, her eyes flashing brightly, then going dim as all her body's systems went onto backup power, all except for her neural network, which promptly began to dominate all her systems, attempting in vain to compensate for the overwhelming, continuous jolts of raw, pleasure-filled stimulation running through every circuit in Blackarachnia's body.

"Already a successful experiment," chortled Tarantulas wickedly, nodding his multi-eyed head eagerly. "Your pleasure systems are already at maximum capacity, and yet it seems as though your body is adapting to produce more of them, tying up almost every major function beyond subsistence levels. Excellent." The wicked tarantula scientist rubbed his forelimbs together, letting the shining cylinder simply rest inside of Blackarachnia's pulsing pudenda, which pulled it inward instinctively as Blackarachnia lay in the grip of the webbing binding her fast, her body twitching as she did all she could to just focus on breathing. Her eyes began to glow once more, however, as Tarantulas' next words brought her back to a semblance of consciousness: "Now it is time for the final test: to see if the pleasure of my little toy can overwhelm your disgust at having my penis inside of you." Tarantulas began to climb over Blackarachnia, his long, hairy legs rasping against her smooth carapace with each movement, his mouthparts moving in eager anticipation even as his grotesque, bloated penis thrust out from the slit at the base of his abdomen. "I can't think of any better test of its effectiveness, can you?"

Truthfully, Blackarachnia could not, for even when providing favors for the disgusting sadistic scientist, she'd never been able to suppress her absolute revulsion for him. Though highly skilled at hiding her true emotions, Tarantulas' keen powers of observation had swiftly identified Blackarachnia's hatred of having anything to do with him, especially sexually. Fortunately for Blackarachnia, this suited Tarantulas just fine, since he found her disgust toward him amusing as well as highly arousing, for there was little that brought him more pleasure than the suffering of others. Despite all her efforts to be strong, to somehow regain her dignity after her quivering orgasm on Tarantulas' pleasurestick, Blackarachnia couldn't stop herself from turning her head away so she didn't have to watch as the cruel arachnid easily pinned her sleek limbs with his own shaggy ones, his abdomen lifting high as he positioned himself to target her most vulnerable spot with pinpoint accuracy: her anus. At the light touch of his swollen, already-dripping cocktip against her abdominal opening, Blackarachnia desperately wished that her spider form had eyelids that she could close, a wish that grew all the more desperate as Tarantulas wrapped one long, hairy leg around her upper cephalothorax, tilting her head so that she was forced to watch as he slowly, oh so slowly, sank his grotesque organ into her helpless body, stretching her open with slow certainty, forcing her to experience every hideous moment of ultimate degradation.

"Exquisite," hissed Tarantulas as he paused there, just savoring the sensation of Blackarachnia's anal ring pulsing and clenching down around him, trying desperately to expel the bulbous foreign intruder. "Even better than usual. Tighter, more energetic."

Gyrating his abdomen, Tarantulas ground his stiff shaft inside of Blackarachnia's body, taking his time, at least for now, his faceted eyes fixed on hers, as though he could read the torment of her very soul through those glittering orbs, his two forelimbs making sure she couldn't turn away. His two hindmost legs kept Tareantulas steady, grounding him, but those other four limbs began to stroke and caress Blackarachnia's smooth, sleek body, making her carapace tingle with unexpected - and totally unwanted! - pleasure.

"No shudders of revulsion, my dear?" taunted Tarantulas, making Blackarachnia moan as he slowly lifted his abdomen, his green-glowing penis glistening with his body's lubricating fluid. "No quips or taunts to attempt a verbal emasculation? Hmm?" Then he laughed, the sound horrible in Blackarachnia's ears, his shaggy mandibles shaking with his wicked humor. "Of course not. Not when I've finally shown you your true character, and your true calling in life: a cum dumpster."

Her red eyes blazing, Blackarachnia parted her oral labium, about to spout a litany of curses at the vile, disgusting, hairy monster raping her. Except, that was when Tarantulas slammed his abdomen down once more, burying himself to the hilt in the narrow, pulsing channel of her anus. Unlike a real spider, Tarantulas had a fully functional penis, just as Blackarachnia's sexual apparatus were somewhere between those of a spider and her humanoid, robotic form. However, just like a real spider, Blackarachnia's anus and rectum were both highly muscled pretty much all the way down their length, as opposed to a humanoid, whose anus was generally the only muscled part to squeeze down on an intruding member. What this meant was that Blackarachnia knew with certainty, a certainty only made more sure as she watched the hideous pulsing of Tarantulas' mandibles, the copious drooling of his venom glands onto her face and cephalothorax, that Tarantulas was enjoying every moment of raping her, loving the incomparable, full-shaft squeeze on his cock as he humped Blackarachnia brutally, holding nothing back from the word go.

Her ears filled with the sound of Tarantulas' bloated, shaggy carapace slapping against her crystalline-appearing one, Blackarachnia's whole body flailed in the webbing holding her fast. Her own mandibles gaped wide as she fought to gulp in air, her inefficient arachnid lungs unable to process enough for her needs as she felt something building up inside of her, something big. No! This couldn't be! Not like this, not to...to him!

In the last moments before she was overcome by the glowing rod crammed into her sex, and the fever-pitch pumping of the spider scientist's cock in and out of her body, Blackarachnia's mind cast out for something - anything - that could relieve her torment, even just a little. There was no way to escape the pure pleasure of this moment, to escape the orgasm that was going to hit her like one of Rhinox's heavy fists. But there was a way to escape the humiliation it would bring. Just as the tips of her legs started to curl up, pleasure washing over her entire body in a wave that was as dirty-feeling as it was all-encompassing, Blackarachnia's mind locked onto a fantasy, an image of someone she knew that helped see her through the last moments of consciousness that remained to her before her breathing apparatus went into power save mode, and she passed out: Silverbolt. His noble visage, his beautiful body, the sound of his motherboard-melting voice, these all filled Blackarachnia's mind's eye, overlaying Tarantulas completely.

"YES!" screamed the wriggling spiderwoman in pure, unrestrained ecstasy. "Harder! Take me harder! I'm yours! Your whore, your slut, your...your slave, forever..."

Body tensing as he heard these words, his mind filled with images of Blackarachnia writhing on the operating table of his lab in her humanoid form, Tarantulas couldn't hold back as he heard Blackaracnia's words. Immediately, his cock swelled, stretching her even more widely, before his internal testicles spasmed, then pulsed, spewing a full, heavy load of steaming liquid data transference into the black widow's rectum. He'd been pent up for the last few days while working on the pleasure transference data crystals, a wait that had been extended against his will thanks to the sudden and mysterious escape of his last test subject, a female rat that he'd intended to rape (not caring one whit about the damage the difference in their respective sizes would cause, naturally). Because of this, it was only a short time before his liquid data began to leak out of Blackarachnia's rear passage, dripping onto the webbing holding her fast.

Then, as the powerful rush his orgasm began to lessen, Tarantulas realized, looking down into Blackarachnia's now-blank eyes (as she'd powered down completely from the intensity of her last orgasm) that she hadn't orgasmed because of him at all that last time. No, his newest invention had failed when he'd needed it most, for he'd seen the faraway look in Blackarachnia's eyes, and knew all-too-well that she'd been fantasizing about someone else. Obviously his pleasure crystals still needed work, if he was to capture the attention of his victims, and then keep them focused on the here and now.

Giving his body a shake, making his softening green penis shed its last droplets of lubricant, Tarantulas ponderously lifted his body off of Blackarachnia and, leaving her dangling there, made his way back through the ducts of the Predacon base, back toward his lab. There was a great deal of work yet to be done, obviously.

Her musings on the past now coming back to the present, Blackarachnia shook her head as she considered the lucky break that had allowed her to escape Tarantulas' web. If he hadn't been so pent-up, hadn't produced such a copious discharge, then his cum wouldn't have wet a part of the webbing holding her fast. And if it hadn't been wet, Blackarachnia couldn't have worked it free after she came to herself, and subsequently escaped.

"Luck?" Blackarachnia mused. "Or karma?" After all, she'd saved the rat from Tarantulas' lair, and she'd known, as well as she knew the vile mad inventor, what he'd planned for the poor little thing. A good turn that led, indirectly it was true, but led all the same, to her escape, and her chance now to clear her head in the high mountain breezes. Allspark knew, she could use some head-cleaning right then, for her circuits still tingled with the pleasure-giving power of the glowing crystal she held in a web-made belt-and-satchel resting against the small of her back. The feelings of arousal, however, were also tempered with an equally strong feeling of simmering anger at having been taken and used like a mindless pleasure machine. If only she could get back at that vile bastard for what he'd done! But there was no way to do so without alerting Megatron to the web of lies she'd woven around herself, at least none that Blackarachnia could easily see.

At this moment of slow-simmering lust and anger, Blackarachnia's red eyes suddenly locked onto movement, her head turning to follow the line of the mountains even as she stepped back into the shadows, her programmed instinct for stealth so powerful it was automatic. There, only a short distance away, skimming the waters of a clear mountain lake set in a low valley inaccessible to anyone who couldn't climb like a spider, or fly like a bird, was a large, beautiful female hawk. Too large, Blackarachnia quickly decided, shifting spectrum on her eyes to confirm what she'd already guessed: the "hawk" was actually a transformer in disguise, the subtle signs of energon emissions discernible to the rare few (like Blackarachnia) who knew what to look for, and had the attention to detail to spot the signs after knowing them. That meant the disguised Transformer could only be one person: the Maximal, Airazor.

Licking her lips, Blackarachnia began to make plans to relieve some of her pent-up frustrations on this new, convenient target.

*

No matter her form, the thrill of flight was always present for Airazor. Somehow, though, it was even greater in her animal form, feeling the wind rush through her feathers and brush along the tender skin beneath. In her robot form, Airazor felt protected, powerful, mighty enough to resist any obstacle. As a falcon, though, she felt more vulnerable, more exposed, her naked feathers the only thing keeping her safe from the potent force of gravity and the many dangers of the primordial world around them. It was...intense. Though of course she'd never admit it, when such feelings were always thought of as so very shameful among Transformers, but the thrill of danger, of risk that came with every flight was one of the most arousing sensations Airazor knew. It was little wonder, then, that she spent so much time alone in flight, ostensibly scouting the area, but it was also as much for her own gratification as for the aid of others.

Letting her eyes close for only a moment, letting her well-remembered memories of every part of the canyons and the mountains guide her instead, Airazor gave a loud falcon's scream, her body trembling slightly at the surge of adrenaline-fueled pleasure that surged through her with the rush of the powerful mountain wind. She was one with the wind, one with the mountains, one with the world around her. She was filled with the rush and overwhelming awe of flight. She was...she was trapped!

It happened so fast, Airazor had only just opened her eyes, only had an instant to realize that there were filmy strands across the walls of the narrow canyon she'd been traversing on her flight through the mountains, something lesser eyes wouldn't have even seen in the first place, before the strands suddenly coalesced around her with a sharp jerk, forming a net of astonishing strength. The webbing quickly entangling around her struggling body, Airazor couldn't force herself to transform without tearing important servos, and as the cunning net tightened, and then began to lift upward, Airazor realized with horror that she was completely at the mercy of whoever it was that had woven the trap. There weren't any spiders of this size living up so high in the mountains, so this was no natural attack, and there were only a few Transformers that used webbing. There was Tarantulas, of course, but he didn't go roaming so high. That meant that the one who'd trapped her had to be...

"Blackarachnia!" Airazor got out through her avian beak, her fierce falcon's eyes fixing on the shapely spiderwoman, leaning against the sturdy old tree to which she'd slung her webbing, and from whose branches Airazor now dangled, still struggling ineffectually. "Wh-what are you doing? I thought we were allies." Naturally, Airazor didn't use the word "friend" to refer to someone like Blackarachnia.

"You should know as well as anyone that I'm my own ally first, Airazor," said the spiderette in sultry tones, even as she started to walk toward the helpless, beautiful bird trapped before her, her hands subtly adjusting the webbing lines around her, even as she skillfully wound a few more of the powerful, nearly invisible strands around her captive's body, tugging Airazor's wings outward, parting her legs, leaving her spread-eagled before the gold-and-black-and-violet spiderlady. "I suppose it's just how I am, after all the reprogramming the Predacons did to me." She smirked wryly, drawing close to Airazor, close enough to make the helpless raptor-robot start to feel more than a little uncomfortable. "It's a lot like rape, Airazor, except it's all in your head."

As she spoke, Blackarachnia's fingertips teased over Airazor's cheek, gently parting the feathers, fingertip caressing the delicate skin beneath. Airazor couldn't hold back a shiver as that finger continued down her body, over the keel of her feathery breast, through the downy-soft underfeathers, and still farther down, toward...

"S-stop!" Airazor cried out, renewing her struggles against the webbing hold her fast, having no idea how very fetching this made her look to the predatory Predacon. "Blackarachnia, you just _can't_do this! It's obscene! It's filthy! It's disgusting! It's..."

"It's already wet," Blackarachnia finished, her hand cupping Airazor's delicate pink cloaca. "I didn't even have to get you warmed up."

"N-no..." whimpered the helpless bird, before her fierce golden eyes widened as Blackarachnia's lips pressed against her beak, astonishingly agile tongue caressing her own. Smoothly, the motion so quick and flawless it had to have been practiced many times, Blackarachnia wrapped a few strands of webbing around Airazor's beak as she broke the kiss, effectively gagging the helpless falcon, forcing her to become a silent spectator of what transpired next.

"You don't need to talk, my lovely, beautiful bird," Blackarachnia cooed softly as she kissed the side of Airazor's neck, making the poor birdie whimper, her body going tense as she felt the other female's hands stroking her inner thighs, fingers getting so tantalizingly close to her tiny cloaca, without quite touching it again. "You just need to feel."

A tug on one of the myriad spider-strands, and Airazor felt herself tilting backward, until soon she was almost on her back, her talons in the air, still spread so very helplessly wide. No, Blackarachnia couldn't do something like this; it was simply too grotesque, too despicable, even for someone like the treacherous female. But...oh, those kisses felt good, the sensations slipping past all of Airazor's inhibitions, all her reticence as Blackarachnia started to press her lips to Airazor's soft feathers, starting around her face and neck and beak, and slowly - so slowly - working her way down the helpless female's body. Despite herself, Airazor's talons flexed, her toes spreading and arching as she watched with wide, unblinking eyes while the golden spiderlady got closer, and closer still to her most tender, vulnerable parts, the animal parts of her body that no Transformer knew how to really resist.

Lips touched her cloaca, and Airazor stiffened, her whole body as tense as titanium cable. It was really going to happen, she was really going to...to...oh! Oh!

"MMMMMMMM!" Airazor cried out through her bound beak, her wings and legs starting to thrash as Blackarachnia's tongue smoothly slid into her defenseless depths. There was no escaping it now, no denying how it made her feel, no turning back from the precipice of pleasure. And Allspark be praised, it felt so good! Airazor couldn't meet those dark eyes with her own golden falcon's gaze, not with such shameful pleasure coursing through her circuits. She wasn't even meant to feel like this, wasn't made for it...was she? Everyone said robots weren't supposed to feel pleasure, certainly weren't supposed to revel in it. Yet, it felt so good, felt so right. When Blackarachnia's lips closed tightly around her pink cloaca, making a tight seal, her astonishingly long tongue delving and thrusting into places Airazor hadn't even considered before, she forgot that she was being raped. All that mattered right then, was that it didn't stop.

That was when Blackarachnia stopped.

"Tasty," said Blackarachnia as she pulled back, wiping Airazor's juices from her chin, making the helpless bird turn her head away in shame so as not to see the evidence of her carnal, forbidden pleasure, just grateful she hadn't lost herself completely in it. "Oh, don't be like that, little bird. It felt good, didn't it?" A gentle hand turned Airazor's head, making her look at Blackarachnia, at the strange, glowing rod she was holding in her other hand. "I know, I didn't let you finish, but don't worry: I just wanted to continue using this instead." She winked teasingly. "Trust me, if you thought my mouth felt good, this will blow your circuits."

Oh no, no, no, Airazor whimpered mentally, shaking her head as she gave Blackarachnia her most pleading gaze. The wicked spiderlady, though, only smiled back at her prisoner, and lowered the softly glowing rod toward Airazor's feathery keel once more. At the lightest touch of the strange rod, Airazor's whole body immediately tensed, and she found herself almost overwhelmed with the most powerful sensations she'd ever experienced to that point in her life. What was this thing? Where did it come from? What was it doing to her? All these questions were swept away in an instant when Blackarachnia teased the tip of the phallic rod against Airazor's juicy cloaca, and then slowly squeezed it, inch by juicy inch, inside.

It was an orgasm. That was the only conscious thought that Airazor could properly formulate at that moment. An orgasm to end all orgasms. Her golden falcon's eyes turned the glowing green of her robot form, light blazing as she felt all her circuits suddenly starting to overload. It was too much! Even with the pleasure that came with flight, Airazor had never gone so far, never allowed herself to give in completely to her animal self. Never before that moment. Webbing snapping as her beak parted with force, Airazor's scream filled the air, her whole body arching upward, legs kicking as her talons flexed and clawed at thin air. Was this what mating felt like? That most forbidden of animal acts. No wonder the animals gave into their instincts so easily and so often. A sun seemed to blossom in Airazor's belly as she gushed lubricating fluid all over Blackarachnia's thrusting hand, even as the beautifully wicked spiderlady continued to pump the throbbing cylinder forward and back, giving her lovely captive no rest and no respite.

"Let's see if you enjoy it more like this," Blackarachnia murmured into Airazor's ear, before her free hand started to tug at the strands of webbing, rolling Airazor over so that she was now dangling face down. Another few tugs, and Airazor felt her limbs seem to come free, still resting in the cradle of webbing. With a start, conscious thought only just barely within her power, Airazor started to transform, desperate to escape while she still had some semblance of her mind that hadn't yielded completely to pleasure. But Blackarachnia's web was too cunningly made, and as soon as Airazor took on her human form, the spiderlady pulled hard on another few strands of webbing, and instantly the web closed around Airazor once more, pinning her in an all-fours position in the air, her feathered metal derriere exposed and presented to her captor.

"Let's get these plates out of the way," cooed Blackarachnia as she so easily disengaged the catches keeping Airazor's intimate access ports concealed, "and then the real fun can begin."

"Oh no," whimpered Airazor, gripping the webbing for only a moment before Blackarachnia's hands caught her own, deftly wrapping more spider silk around her wrists, binding them tightly. "Please, Blackarachnia, just let me go. I promise, I'll erase the data of our meeting, so nobody will ever know."

"Why would I want you to do that?" asked Blackarachnia, surprised. "Trust me, I want you to remember this." She held up the glowing rod once more. "I want it to be one of the brightest jewels in your memory banks."

Airazor could feel the pulse of that horrible rod's erotic energy as Blackarachnia took her time pushing it nearer and still nearer to the Maximal's exposed intimate access ports. Male Transformers only had one such access port, while female Transformers had two, but the primary purpose of those access ports was to provide a means for the transfer of the most private sorts of data, something typically only shared between the closest of lovers. A great many Transformers never used those access ports, and since they were almost never discussed, only a few actually even knew that they existed at all. Airazor, in touch with her body in so many ways thanks to her animal form, taken as a part of adapting to the otherwise Transformer-unfriendly atmosphere of this alien world, knew about those access ports, and knew something of the pleasure they could bring, though of course, being a decent Transformer, she'd never actually done any serious self-exploration of those most intimate locations. Now, that was all going to change.

"Ah!" Airazor cried out as the glowing rod touched the slightly pliable labia of her second access port, the one unique to female Transformers. "Please, Blackarachnia, please..."

"No," said Blackarachnia as she leaned over Airazor's suspended body. "Not until I'm finished with you, my beautiful little bird."

"Blackarachnia!" Airazor got out, her voice tense, desperate...before it was cut off completely, replaced with another falcon's scream as Blackarachnia thrust the glowing rod deep, deep into Airazor's most precious, delicate places, stretching her open, filling not just her body, but also the very core of her being with a raw overload of pure pleasure-data. "Blackarachnia!"

Blackarachnia silenced all the beautiful birdformer's further cries with a kiss, straddling the spread-eagled falcongirl, the swellings of her metal breasts rubbing against the feathery escutcheon of Airazor's chest. It was so hard to think right then, and Airazor's mind was foggy with the haze of unaccustomed lust and exquisite pleasure. She could hardly be blamed when she started to kiss Blackarachnia back. That kiss deepened, then became a shared moan as Blackarachnia straddled the other femmebot, twisting the pleasure-rod upward, then impaling her own female access port on its other end.

The juices of both females flowed freely down the length of the glowing green rod as, suddenly, the two transformers were made one. Through the raw power of the rod, they were sharing each other's pleasure, creating a feedback loop of passion as Blackarachnia felt Airazor's orgasms, Airazor felt Blackarachnia's, and the two then experienced the pleasure that each was experiencing from the other. Circuits glowed with building heat as the two femmebots started to grind against each other, faster, then faster still, until their joined bodies started to smoke with friction and overclocked sensory apparatus. Finally, just moments before total system shutdown, Blackarachnia broke her kiss with Airazor, both females arching their heads back as they cried out as one, their voices a beautiful chorus in the jungles of the mountain reaches.

In those jungles, Una, the pubescent cavegirl watched, awestruck, as the two goddesses coupled. She'd been in the mountains to gather some of the special fruit and herbs that only grew in the heights, some for food, some for medicine, when she'd heard the voices of the two goddesses, and, risking all, decided to investigate. Now she trembled, her legs weak and wobbly, juices flowing down her hairy legs as she leaned against a tree, doing her best not to make a sound, not wanting to disturb the goddesses in their play. Never before had the caveteen considered that females might be able to couple together, and the idea took swift and firm root in her primitive mind, given more than a little religious significance by who it was actually doing the coupling. Ever since the Maximals had saved her and Chak from cyber-raptors, her tribe had held a mythic reverence for the mighty metal gods. Seeing them coupling so on the mountaintops made Una's whole body shudder with strange desires, even as she began forming ways that she would tell of her experience to the rest of her tribe, so that the myth might live on forever.

Blackarachnia, with her greater experience with pleasure than Airazor, carefully slid the hotly glowing green rod from both their bodies, letting it drop to the ground, steaming with expended energy. Airazor lay gasping through her mouth for more air, her expression dazed from so much sensation having come so fast as she lay back in the cradle of webbing that still held her firmly. The experienced spiderlady gently caressed the birdwoman, parting the feathers to expose the seams beneath, then sliding them apart, exposing Airazor's own breasts, hidden beneath. Why many female Transformers had breasts, Blackarachnia had never really understood, as they seemed to be an optional component. They were a lot of fun to play with, though, as she demonstrated to the inexperienced female beneath her, her mouth closing on first one, then the other perky, pliable metal globe, making Airazor moan, her limbs twitching in the webbing as she responded to Blackarachnia's skilled touch.

"Try it yourself," the spiderlady offered as she lifted her head, then raised herself slightly, her own breasts dangling close before Airazor's face. Unable to resist, Airazor leaned her head forward, closing her lips on one smooth golden faux-mammary, working her mouth around until it glistened all over, well-polished by her tongue, then shifted to the other breast. "Mmm, that's it - you're a fast learner, my pretty birdie."

Una reached for her own breasts, then, mostly concealed beneath her fur, and gasped at the rush of sensations the lightest contact brought, sensations that only grew stronger when she squeezed her fingers down on her nipples. The metal goddesses didn't have those! Suddenly, Una realized that the glowing eyes of the spiderlike goddess were half-turned toward her, a knowing smile on her lips as she allowed the feathered goddess to continue lavishing attention onto her other breast. Gasping again, this time in fright, Una turned and fled into the jungle, heading back toward the lowlands where her people usually lived; who knew what punishments the goddesses would exact upon her for daring to view their sacred tryst? Una for one had no intention of finding out!

Running for miles was a matter of daily life for proto-humans like Una. Staying quiet while doing it, though, that was hard. It was necessary, though, she felt, so as to avoid drawing more of the metal goddess' attention, and perhaps their sudden, swift wrath down upon her. Despite her desperate desire for stealth, however, Una couldn't hold back a sudden scream as, while she was glancing back to see if she'd been followed, she ran headlong into a large spider's web. Struggling in terror against the sticky strands, Una grew more and more panicked as all her efforts only ended with her growing more and more entangled in the entwining fibers. What manner of spider could build a web large enough and strong enough to capture a proto-human, even one of Una's not-quite-matured stature?

The answer was not long in coming, and Una screamed again, her horror complete, as she looked up at the feeling of droplets of moisture on her shoulder, only to look straight into the multiple eyes of a creature out of nightmare, its fangs dripping paralyzing venom as it closed on her, chuckling wickedly as it feasted on her fear.

Blackarachnia had just been considering trying to talk Airazor into trying out some new positions, now that the other Transformer femmebot seemed to be less determined to escape after a hard enough orgasm to temporarily fry some circuits (at least until their auto-repair systems kicked in shortly afterward, of course), when she heard the screams of the little proto-human that had run off into the woods when Blackarachnia merely glanced at her. She'd thought that a pity, really, since she'd always wondered what a little fun with a mammal would be like, but now that she heard the screams of the fleshling girl's distress, she simply couldn't stay where she was in good conscience. Blackarachnia might be a walking "bad girl" stereotype, but really, there were some things that were just too much.

"You still with me, birdie?" she asked as she slid smoothly off the gasping Airazor, a light brush of her hands letting the other female's chestplate slide back into place over her breasts. "I think playtime might be over now."

"Wh-?" Airazor started to say, blinking in confusion, before she heard the last of Una's screams, before it was suddenly cut off. Her eyes widened in horror at what such a sound must mean. "We've got to save her!"

"Yeah, I guess we do," sighed Blackarachnia, reaching for the ends of her webbing. "It'll probably be better if we work together. Just don't go attacking me when I set you free, okay?"

"I..." Airazor hestitated, frowning. "All right, as long as you help me save the fleshling, I won't attack you. Not even for...what you did to me."

"You mean what we did together, birdie," Blackarachnia teased, grinning at the glow this got from Airazor's facial seams, the Transformer equivalent of a blush. "Okay, one moment...there we go."

Airazor twisted as she fell, landing easily on her feet. She spun to face Blackarachnia, her expression angry, though it wasn't quite a killing anger. Blackarachnia knew the expression well: it was the look of someone forced to deal with a side of themselves that they didn't want to think about. It was common enough among Transformers, with their insistence that they were somehow better than organic life-forms, somehow above base, animal desires. Silverbolt had given her a similar look after she'd deflowered him with her mouth. She'd made the look go quickly and completely away, though, when she'd taken that adorably noble goody-two-shoes inside her female access port just a short while later.

It was much the same for Airazor, as she got control of herself, putting the matter aside until she could handle the aftershocks of her new experiences later. Right now, there was a fleshling to save.

"Follow me," called out the Maximal as she leapt into the air, instantly shifting into her nearly silent flying falcon form, a far better choice for scouting than her robot shape when she didn't want to be immediately noticed. "Scanning...I see her!" her voice crackled in Blackarachnia's ear-centered communicator as the spiderlady casually scooped up the green pleasure rod and slipped it away before starting off down the mountains and into the jungle, following Airazor's signal. It interested her how swiftly they'd managed to make the remote connection between their processors, and Blackarachnia decided right then and there that she'd have to see how well the pleasure rod worked on male Transformers, and if she could achieve the same instant connection.

"Up ahead," Airazor hissed urgently into the comm. "She's...by the Allspark. She's been captured by Tarantulas. He's got her in a websac, and he's dragging her off. I can only just make them out through the thinner parts of the canopy."

"I don't even wanna think about what he'll do to her," Blackarachnia said softly, and meant it, something she knew Airazor could pick up through the strange, lingering connection they still had with each other after their shared pleasure. "Okay birdie, you come down from on high as soon as I give you the signal. I'm going to go in close," and as she said this, Blackarachnia's body twisted and transformed, until she was crawling along in her spider form, "and see if I can distract that bloated flysucker."

Tarantulas had, of course, already added a proto-human to his pleasure databases. Sadly, however, the little thing had escaped before he could run further tests. That was the most annoying thing about fleshlings: they seemed able to get out of his confinements so very easily. But only in his lab, of course. In his webbing, oh no, there was no escape, as he delighted in demonstrating to the helpless, struggling female fleshling thrashing about in the webbing he was dragging behind his hairy abdomen.

"You think I'm going to eat you, don't you, fleshling?" he asked, though he knew it was a largely pointless effort, since the proto-humans didn't seem capable of proper speech as far as he knew. "You're not all wrong. I might make a snack of you with my bio-processors. But not until after I've finished with science!" Then Tarantulas paused, his pedipalps fiddling speculatively in the air. "But...is science ever truly finished?"

Utterly at a loss at this conundrum, Tarantulas continued to ponder for a few moments more. They were a few moments too long.

Down from above came Blackarachnia, a line of web trailing behind her. The hulking tarantula-bot twitched as he felt Blackarachnia's long, spindly legs stroking his back, and he positioned his many eyes to look upward at her.

"Oh, you," he said after a moment's contemplation. "What do you want, Blackarachnia? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"Don't mind me," Blackarachnia cooed suggestively, her long legs stroking Taratulas' sides, making the wicked scientist hesitate with some idecision. "After all, it's not like you really need to hurry anywhere, is it? That little fleshling certainly isn't going anywhere."

"Hmm, true," admitted the hairy Predacon, lifting himself upward slightly, letting Blackarachnia's legtips reach his rapidly-engorging member. "Found my little plaything to your liking, I take it?"

"Oh yeah," Blackarachnia answered, and the emphasis she put into her words left little doubt that, for once, she wasn't lying. "It's a pretty handy little toy. You planning on testing it out some more?"

"Perhaps, perhaps," Tarantulas replied, his voice only showing a little tension as Blackarachnia started to stroke his shaft, making his abdomen start to hunch up and down, thrusting into her grip. "I know I can make it even better, though. Science is never about perfection, after all, only the journey toward that ideal."

"I'm sure you can," agreed Blackarachnia, her legs starting to stroke faster, harder, Tarantulas' body tensing up as she did so, his voice going still. "It's got to take a lot out of you, though. I mean, look at you: you're so tense."

Tarantulas didn't respond - couldn't, really. A wheezing hiss escaped his drooling mandibles as he bucked and thrust into Blackarachnia's talented handling of his rigid shaft, his cock drooling just as much as his venom glands. He was so close, so close...

"Now!" yelled Blackarachnia, just at the moment when Tarantulas' whole body was tensing up in the throes of orgasm. The spider scientist was too caught up in the moment to do anything worthwhile as, like a thunderbolt from the sky, Airazor came plummeting downward, her talons tearing into his exposed back. Screaming in fury, Airazor's beak shattered two of Tarantulas' glowing eyes, making the hairy arachnid scream in answering pain.

"Deceiver!" Tarantulas yelled. "Vicious, lying harlot! I'll..."

"You won't do anything," said Blackarachnia, casually plunging one of her legtips into one of Tarantulas' ruined eyes, quickly finding the circuits of his brain within. "When I'm done with you, you won't remember any of this."

Transforming in a rush and taking a battle-ready stance, Airazor grabbed the websac in which Una was cocooned and tugged it away, her glowing green eyes fixed on Blackarachnia as she struggled on her perch atop the bucking tarantula. Suddenly, Tarantulas' whole body seized up, going rigid, the glow of his eyes winking out.

"You've killed him, then?" asked Airazor warily, watching the wicked scientist Predacon just in case he should decide to start moving again.

"No, unfortunately," answered Blackarachnia as she continued to fiddle inside Tarantulas' head. "Just removing his memories of us ambushing him. Oh, and all his work on sex studies. Fun as it might have been, I think I'd rather Tarantulas didn't go around making more rape traps for small animals and other Transformers."

"You're probably right," said Airazor with a shudder, before reaching down and slitting the webbing holding Una with astonishing gentleness, the sharp edge of her taloned finger not once even touching the little fleshling. "There you go, little one," she said, squatting next to the freed proto-human as Una crawled out of the webbing. "Safe and sound."

Lacking proper words for a response, Una went to her knees before the great metal goddess, then lowered her head, her rump high in an attitude of worship. Airazor giggled at this display.

"You don't need to do that, silly girl," she said, reaching down to very gently nudge Una back to standing position. "You being alive is enough for...oh!"

Impulsively, as the metal goddess had lifted her upright, Una had decided she should show her gratitude in some way she knew the great one who had saved her would appreciate. Having made her decision, she lunged forward, then pressed her whole body firmly up against the large feathery female's sex, and started to rub herself against it, feeling her hairy body become almost immediately drenched in the already copious juices of the larger female.

"Wh-what are you doing, little one?" Airazor gasped out in shock, her eyes widening as she watched Una rub herself up and down against her most intimate spot with all the desperate enthusiasm of a very grateful fanatic. She paused there, watching, fearful that if she moved, with the little proto-human female where she was, she might injure the fleshling, and Airazor's conscience simply wouldn't allow her to do anything like that.

"Looks like a case of monkey see, monkey do," laughed Blackarachnia as she stepped off of the still-rigid Tarantulas and, still in her spider form, crept up behind Airazor. Airazor gasped loudly as Blackarachnia's legs encircled her, holding her firmly, before Blackarachnia's head peered over her shoulder. "I like how she thinks, though," the robotic black widow purred seductively in Airazor's ear. "Hold nice and still, birdie - you don't want to hurt the precious little fleshling, now do you? I know I don't, not when she's being such a good little fleshling."

It only took little light stroking and some minor fiddling to get Airazor's chestplate off, then to set it aside, baring the golden breasts beneath. Airazor whimpered, her whole body shuddering despite herself as Blackarachnia's skilled legs stroked and caressed her breasts, other legs still pinning Airazor's arms to her sides.

"You're helpless now, aren't you, little bird?" teased Blackarachnia as she leaned further over Airazor's shoulder, her long fangs teasing against those lovely metal breasts, making Airazor whine pitifully, turning her head away so she wouldn't have to watch the dripping fangtips tease against her smooth, naked metal, leaving little trails of venom behind. "Completely at my mercy, because you're afraid of hurting the precious little fleshling."

Despite turning her head, Airazor couldn't stop herself from watching, her breathing fast and shallow, as she watched Blackarachnia's fangs lift slightly, positioning themselves right over her bare breasts.

"Please," she begged. "Please, don't kill me."

"Silly little birdie," giggled Blackarachnia. "Whatever made you think I'd want to do that?"

There was the lightest prick, and suddenly Airazor's whole body locked up, paralyzed by a combination of orgasm and Blackarachnia's venom, as Una found and started to grind her body most vigorously against Airazor's clitoris equivalent at the same time Blackarachnia's fangtips ever-so-gently pierced Airazor's exposed breasts.

"You're ours now, birdie," cooed Blackarachnia into Airazor's ear as she shifted into her robot form, hands caressing their way down the avian Transformer's shoulders and neck and breasts and belly, her lips kissing Airazor's neck and cheek and lips. "Don't worry, though - we'll take good care of you, I promise."

Airazor felt Blackarachnia wrap a strand of webbing around her wrists, binding them behind her, before the spider lady gently rested Airazor back against a tree, her legs splayed wide, and knelt next to Una.

"You've got enthusiasm, kid," Blackarachnia praised the proto-human, who beamed in understanding of the tone if not the words. "But you can do better. Here, let me show you."

Letting Una lean in to watch closely, Blackarachnia pressed her mouth up against Airazor's exposed femmeparts, kissing her lower lips just as she had her upper ones, long tongue teasing its way inside the helpless girlbot's most sacred places. Una watched solemnly, then, as Blackarachnia drew back, she leaned in as well. Airazor's green eyes widened, her lips parting in a loud gasp as she felt those tiny fleshling lips kissing her everywhere, the size difference allowing little Una to reach spots that not even Blackarachnia could manage, her hands soon after joining her lips and tongue as the proto-human girl did her best to mimic what she'd seen her beautiful metal mentor do...and then a little bit more.

"She's a smart one," giggled Blackarachnia, rubbing Airazor's clitoris with her fingers while Una continued to eagerly slurp on the delicious juices of the big robot girl. "A fast study. Oh, don't be like that, birdie," she continued, leaning in to give Airazor a peck on the lips and then the cheek. "I'll let you go soon enough. After all, we're all friends here, aren't we? I just didn't want you flying off before we got to the best part of saving someone." She winked. "The post-rescue sex."

Airazor's worried expression soon turned upward as she gasped loudly, her inner thighs trembling as she was brought steadily closer to the orgasm to end all orgasms. And, when Blackarachnia's mouth and fingers joined those of the little fleshling, Airazor didn't hold back her falcon's scream, her whole body tensing up as her world rocked with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, until nothing else mattered except the pleasure that seared through her like the sun.

*

"That is how I came to know the ways of the gods," said Una in her slightly broken tones. Since language was so new, she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of it, even after all these years.

The young proto-human females to whom Una had been speaking, among them her own daughter, like the others only freshly come of age, sighed in the bliss of afterglow. Una smiled as she looked over the happy faces of the youngsters to whom she'd shown the rites of womanhood. Yes, it looked as though the tribe would do just fine, for they had responded very well indeed to the ways shown to her by the great metal goddesses, the falcon and the spider. With such powerful deities to watch over them, her tribe was truly blessed.