Witchcraft 1

"Do you like him?" Phoebe looked over at Anna, her eyebrow raised, as she lifted a forkful of salad to her mouth.

"I don't know. Yes. I — he's a good guy, Pheeb, but every time we're in the bedroom, he's so distant." Anna stared at her plate, poking at the pasta.

Phoebe shrugged. "You know I can help."

"I don't think I want your help."

"Are you sure?"

Anna stared hard at her plate. "No, I'm not sure about anything. I just — I want this one to work. It feels like it should work."

"Tell me about him."

"He's

so

not my usual type, Pheeb, that's why it seems so right. He's

boring

. He designs bridges. It's all math and mechanical stuff. I don't understand anything about anything that he does for a living. But goddamn if he isn't tall, dark, and handsome, with eyes that go a thousand miles deep, and that wavy hair — I get shivers. And he's as deep as his eyes: We stayed up for three hours after a date arguing Kant on a park bench! He took me to Shakespeare, and he cried at the end. Pheebs, the guy is the real deal, but for some reason, he doesn't want to be anything but 'great friends.'"

Phoebe munched her salad for a moment. "I think you got it bad."

"I know." Anna looked down at her plate.

"I'll help if you want."

Anna looked up with dark eyes. "Your help's dangerous."

Phoebe shrugged. "If you want guarantees, buy a washing machine."

Anna glared down at her pasta, which wasn't getting eaten. "I — will. No. Won't. Dammit, Pheeb, the last time you helped me my hair was blue for a week. I had to tell everyone it was because I liked the Mets. I don't know

anything

about baseball, and I had to even use Google to find that excuse."

"I know, I was there."

Anna stammered irritably. "So no. No help. Yes. No. Yes. Dammit, you don't make this easy."

The waiter walked by, and the conversation paused.

Phoebe leaned in as the waiter walked away. "I'm a witch, not an oracle. But if you want, we can teleport to Greece and you can ask an oracle."

"Oh, hell no. No teleporting. I was sick for a week after the last time."

"I swear that wasn't my fault."

Anna stared at the people walking past on the sidewalk beside the café. "No. Yes. No. Can — you just find out maybe what kind of girl he's into? Like, am I too short? Too tall? Does he like blond hair? Ponytails? Green eyes? I can put in contacts."

Phoebe grinned. "What kind of self-respecting witch doesn't have a crystal ball?" She leaned over and fished in her massive purse for a few minutes. Sitting back upright, she pulled out a perfect glass sphere that glimmered in the lights of the restaurant.

"Here?"

"Relax, Anna, nobody will see anything in it except me. So we'll just tell them that I'm new-agey, and I just bought it, and I'm showing it to you."

Anna shook her head. "Fine. Alright. Tell me what he's into."

Phoebe pushed her salad aside, and curled up her cloth napkin into a circle, and nestled the crystal in it. She closed her eyes, leaning forward, and held her hands over it, chanting softly. The ball began to glow, and shadows danced inside.

"Okay, so what do they say? He prefers blondes, doesn't he?"

"Patience, girl, patience!" Phoebe leaned into the crystal farther, and opened her eyes, gazing deep inside it. "Well, let's see, he likes his family. Goes to church, ooo, you got yourself a churchgoer, remind me not to tell him what I do for a living. Lessee... he's dated girls before you, and his last girlfriend was blond, and that didn't last. She'd pretended to be smarter than she was, and they broke up. Hmm... you're the one he's liked most, of all the girls he's dated, but it really isn't working in the bedroom, is it?"

"You can say that again."

"Huh." Phoebe fell silent, staring deeper into the ball, her hands starting to gently swipe over it. "I'm looking. This is a weird one. I can't quite place it. He's — been with a girl twice, but it was kind of a mess both times. She left crying. He likes girls — you got that much, at least — but something gets in the way every time. Huh."

"What's 'huh?' What does 'huh' mean? Pheebs, talk to me."

"I'm trying, I'm trying. I got — lemme try from another angle. Ah, there we go. He keeps a journal. Let's look over his shoulder while he's writing it. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Oh —

oh

... well! Now isn't that interesting. And on the next page. And let's see — last year's journal. Oh, yeah. Well, I'll be damned."

Phoebe sat upright, lowering her hands, and the lights dancing in her eyes and in the crystal faded until it was no more than just a ball of glass again. She blinked a few times, shaking the images loose from her mind.

"So, look, this is a weirder one than you think it is. You're going to need my help."

"He likes — only girls with green hair?"

"He likes your hair. Actually, he'd like it longer, but it's fine for now."

"Then what? I'm too short? He likes bigger boobs? It's totally my tiny tits, isn't it?"

"No. Look, Jason's a great guy, and you found yourself a keeper, but

dang

if he's not into something freaky in the bedroom. I can let you back out now. I'll tell you nothing, and you can just be friends with him. Without a witch's help, he'll never meet a girl who meets his desires. I mean — I think a few of them might exist, but probably not in New York."

"Then what? What does he want?"

"Girl, you need to back out right now. Last chance before I ruin your appetite."

"No, I love him, and I want to take us to the next level. Goddamn it if it didn't feel like he's the one. So tell me."

Phoebe reached into her jacket and pulled out a slip of paper and a ballpoint pen. She scribbled on it for a second, folded it in half, and then slid it over to Anna on the table.

"I won't make you open it."

"What is so awful that you don't want to even say it?"

"It's not awful," said Phoebe. "Just weird. Dude's got crazy tastes. I totally intend to sneak a peek at his childhood later and see if I can figure out how

that

happened."

"I can deal with crazy."

"Not that crazy."

"Trust me."

Anna grimaced at her friend, then picked up the paper and opened it.

She frowned. "What the hell is 'a drider?'"

* * *

It had been a long day, and Jason was tired. The Smithberg contract had fallen through at the last minute — something about their reinsurer's paperwork — and that had made nearly the entire office miserable, and he'd been bored stiff, having slid most of his planning paperwork into a box. Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough, especially when Anna had called him at four. He hadn't heard from her in over two weeks, and then suddenly she was coming over to his house, tonight of all nights.

"I'm going to meet you tonight at your place," she said. "I'll be there first. I'll be inside. I know where the spare key is in the mailbox. I have something planned. Trust me."

He sure didn't mind the company, but the entire train-ride back to Brooklyn, he was still down. Anna was amazing, the best girl he'd met. If only —

He got off the train and walked the three blocks to his brownstone. Whatever. Brush off the day. There's a pretty girl who wants to spend time with you. Maybe dinner and a movie. That could take your mind off things.

He noticed his house as he arrived. All the blinds were drawn. He wasn't sure what was going on, but Anna was a good girl and had a good head on her shoulders. She had to have a reason for closing the place up like that.

He went to open the door and go inside, but the door was locked. She'd locked it again after going inside? He shrugged, unlocked it, and closed it again behind him.

Inside, the house was dark. "Make sure you lock it," said a voice from somewhere upstairs.

"Anna?"

"I'm in the bedroom," she said.

He kicked off his shoes, set down his briefcase, and started up the stairs. He didn't get far before pulling something sticky out of his hair.

"Wha —?"

He reached up and pulled a massive cobweb off his head. "Eew."

He looked up. Several more cobwebs were strung across the stairwell going up. He thought he'd done a better job of cleaning, but maybe not. He'd been so distracted with work lately, and a few nights he hadn't even made it home at all. Maybe they'd grown, and maybe he hadn't noticed.

He reached the top, batting aside the cobwebs, and went down the hall. It, too, had no shortage of cobwebs hanging from it. He'd have to spend the weekend cleaning. This was just too much of a mess. He was glad Anna still was willing to be here after seeing it. Or maybe she'd come here just to break up with him.

Jason reached his bedroom door and pushed it open. It stopped halfway, getting stuck in a large, white gooey mass.

Inside, the bedroom was lit by candles, dozens of candles suspended in a massive, thick spiderweb that stretched from corner to corner. His bed had been disassembled and was leaning against a far wall, buried in the webbing, and his other furniture was nowhere to be seen. Not that he even noticed it, given what was resting gently on the web in front of him.

It was Anna.

Only — it wasn't.

Jason swallowed hard.

He stared at the impossible creature in front of him, leaning forward slightly, biting her lip nervously, bracing her hands on her legs. She was completely nude, and he supposed that was mainly to show that it wasn't a costume, that she was real, that every last inch of her impossible body was attached to her. The long, slender black legs that jutted out in front and behind and to the sides. The giant, bulbous butt. There was a smooth blend between the skin at her waist and the dark black carapace below.

Above, she was Anna, still pretty Anna, only a little more gorgeous than he remembered, with her wavy brown hair about six inches longer, and he could swear that she'd only been about a B-cup before, but the globes hanging on her chest were at least D-cups, if not larger, and her nipples had perked up in the cool air. Her pale skin was as soft and smooth as he'd remembered, if not more so. She was easily the most gorgeous human girl he'd ever seen.

But then below —! A big black spider's body where her human legs once had been, and it was real, and breathing, and living. She was gently moving her legs up and down, ever so slightly to sway in the web, and there could be no doubt about what she was.

She was biting her lip.

"Well?"

Jason swallowed hard.

"Do you like it?"

He nodded. "How — how is this — how did you — "

She came forward, moving on her impossible legs, each one lifting off her webbing one at a time so that her torso could glide toward him, almost effortlessly.

"I have a friend," she said. "She's a witch. I'd been wondering why you didn't want to go farther with me. I sure didn't expect this was the reason."

He nodded, at a loss for words.

"So do you like it? It's taken — a bit of getting used to."

He nodded.

She lifted a leg, running her hand down its length. "I used to be afraid of spiders, when I was really little. Then a tiny one made this massive web on my porch, and I saw her, every day on my way to and from school. I watched her grow, catch her food, and eventually lay her eggs. She was never scary. One day, I held out my finger. She walked onto my finger, looked at me, then turned around, and went back up to her home. She had become my friend, and I think she felt the same way too. I liked spiders after that."

She inched closer and put her hands on his shoulders. "You could have just said something. I'd have role-played this for you. We could have pretended in bed. Instead, I had to get a witch to find out your tastes and turn me into it."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, don't be sorry. Be turned on. I turned into the perfect monster for you."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this. And I'm turned on."

"Wait, don't you want me to be a drider?"

"

Of course

I do! I don't know why I have this fetish. I just do. And I just — I didn't want you to be hurt by it."

"I'm not hurt, Jason. Pheeb's a hell of a witch. This didn't hurt a bit."

"But you can't go outside like this! You'll be ostracized, or people will flee, or maybe they'll even catch and dissect you!"

"Oh, relax, drama queen. Nobody's getting dissected. You let me worry about that. Pheeb gave me some potions to try. But you know what she didn't give me? A cure. We saw what you wrote. I'm not changing back. I mean, I could, but I don't intend to. I'm going to be a giant spider girl, living in a web for the next sixty years or so, until I curl up and die and they have to find some kind of huge oversized coffin to fit me. Phoebe turned me into this like a week ago, and it took some getting used to, but it's permanent. It's mine. This giant spider ass and these freaky spindly legs are mine, and I'm not giving them up."

Jason sank down to his knees. "I just — I can't believe it."

Anna looked down at him. "So, am I hot?"

"I have no words. You're — perfect."

"Well, then, would you stop with just resting your hand on your pants and start jerking off already? I can see you want to — and I want to see you want me, that bad, that hard. Tonight is all about us, all about desire, and all about sex. Oh, and you should leave work a message — you're calling in sick tomorrow."

He gulped.

"And I don't mean 'sick' like 'poisoned,'" she said. "I can't do that anyway. Not that kind of spider girl."

"Can we — have dinner first?" said Jason. "I haven't eaten since lunch."

"There are Clif Bars hanging in my web," she said. "So — no. No, you may not run away from me."

"Sorry."

She lowered her legs, kneeling, until she was on level with him. "Sorry, I'm coming on too strong? I thought you'd like that."

"I — I think I do like that. It's just a little overwhelming. You really are perfect, you really are here, and you really are — I'm not dreaming, am I? You're real, aren't you?"

She reached out, picked up his hand, and laid it on one of her legs. It was smooth, sturdy, and cool, and only very slightly yielding to his touch, like it was made of fingernail, only solid black. "It's real," she said. "I'm real."

He leaned forward, taking her face in his hands, and then gently kissed her. "Thank you."

She grinned. "I know you like the romance, but seriously, Jason, I'm horny as fuck, and I really do want an entire night of as much sex as is humanly possible. Or driderly possible. I promise I'll go at your pace, but could you speed up your pace a little?"

"Sorry," he said, smiling weakly. "I — it's just so much. Of

course

I want you. It's just a lot to take in. Ten minutes ago, I didn't think driders could even exist, and now one is trying to hump my bones. I'm torn between wanting to ask you a million questions and what you want."

"How about you get to ask ten questions now, and every time I answer one, you take off a piece of clothing?"

"Deal."

* * *

"How did this happen? How did you turn into a drider?"

"I told you. My friend's a witch. We used her crystal ball to look at your journal — I didn't even know you kept one — and she found out what you've been writing in there. After that, it took her almost a week to make a spell to turn me into this."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I'm as good at keeping secrets as you are. But no more secrets. And that's three questions, by the way, so no more shoes, and only one sock."

Jason blanched, and hastily kicked off his shoes, and pried a sock loose. He wiggled his toes.

"Toes are weird," she said, looking down at him. "Now that I don't have them, I can appreciate how weird they are. Wiggly nubs on your feet. Like fingers, only short and useless. Dang. And I used to like my feet, too, and shoes, but human feet are weird as hell the more I think about it. Not gonna miss those. But yours are nice enough for a human, I guess."

"So — did it hurt?"

"I already answered that, Jay. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. And it included a few mind rewrites, so I knew how to use this body almost right away. Most of the hard part has been learning how to spin my thread. I'm still not great at it, but I'm getting better. This web was supposed to be a little more spiral-shaped, but it's not a bad first try. Other sock."

Jason yanked off the other sock. "So how did you get over here without anyone seeing you?"

"Illusion spell. Pheeb gave me a couple dozen of them. As far as anyone was concerned, I was just a normal girl, pulling a large black wagon with me. I rode the subway all the way here. I was a little nervous the first time Phoebe had me go outside, but now I'm totally used to it. Oh, I want the tie next."

Jason loosed his red tie and lifted it over his head. Anna snatched it from him and slipped it over her own, grinning. She tightened it down, letting it fall between her bare breasts. "Perfect," she said, grinning.

Jason swallowed hard. "I — um — I have to ask — "

"Five more," she said.

" — are you — I mean — you're still — like we can have sex — like — you're still a girl — down there?"

Anna grinned. "So A, yes, I'm all woman, from head to spinnerets. And B, what you're really asking about is my pussy. Yes, I have a vagina, shaped a little differently, but it's all still there, down underneath, where a female spider has her equipment. Be glad I don't have that weird curly thing she's got. I have a vagina and vulva and clitoris, and uterus and fallopian tubes and stuff, and they're all in weird places and Pheeb seems to think maybe I'll lay eggs, but either way, I'm all girl where it matters. Now take off the shirt."

He smiled, weakly, unbuttoning it, and slipping it off behind him.

"You know," she said, "that one time at the beach, I couldn't stop staring at your chest. Goddamn did I need this in my life. By the way, yes, you can stare at my tits. I mean, at some point in a few months I'll tell you not to, but it feels so good to have you acting like a normal guy that you can totally ogle me all you want." She cupped them together with her hands, showing off. "Next question."

"Dang..."

"Next question, Jason?" She pulled off his tie and threw it at his face, playfully.

"Can you — do spider things? Climb on walls and ceilings?"

"Oh yah. That was one of the most fun things to learn about this body. When you start to get bored, we'll start having sex on the ceiling. Now the belt comes off."

Jason unbuckled his belt and pulled it loose. He handed it to her.

She tossed it aside. "I'd kill to have you to wear a belt made of my silk to work one of these days. That'd be so hot. We'll have to think about how to pull that off."

"Silk?"

"It's as strong as steel," she said. "Stronger, actually. It'll hold your pants up. Speaking of which, that counts as a question, so I want those boxers. I want them off your feet and lying in a heap in the corner of the room, where they belong." She tapped at them with a finger.

Jason swallowed nervously, then slid them down, revealing his bare legs, and in between, erect member.

"Well, there he is, the not-so-little-guy," said Anna, grinning. "I always thought you had something pretty good hidden in there. Go on, take them off the rest of the way. I'm naked, you're naked, everybody's naked under their clothes — and you're not putting clothes back on for a long time."

He nodded, pulling them off, and he tossed them into the corner she'd indicated.

"Two more questions," she said. "And you have nothing left except your watch." She ran her hand gently up the inside of his leg, stopping only an inch from his testicles.

Jason gulped.

"I, uh, are you really going to stay like this?"

"Waste of a question, but yep. You could dump me tomorrow, and I'd still be New York's friendly neighborhood spider-girl. It's insane to think it, and I only turned into this because of your weird tastes, but I like spiders, and it's so much fun that I really don't want to change back. Spinning webs, climbing walls, a figure that won't quit, tits for miles, and this hair? You got me turned into a monster, but you also got me turned into a superhero and a supermodel. And since I'm

literally

your perfect girl, you'd better not dump me."