Daniel threw a cigarette butt to the ground and stomped it out. He was trying to quit. Knew he should. Didn’t care that much, but cared enough to want to try. Cared enough because he knew folks in town would be happy to help him quit. Didn’t care enough, because he’d never gone in any of the clinics to even think about cessation. The taste of a fat, juicy hit of nicotine between his lips was just hard to beat. The ritual of it all. The feeling of dropping a butt and going inside to resume his work.

401 Crimson was the address, and a Mister G. Robin was the owner. HVAC systems on the fritz was the problem. Daniel had a tiny red tool-chest in one hand and a phone in the other, doing his best to absolutely look like an old-time engineer. The door was open and unlocked; the owner had left instructions and trust. Fair enough, saved time. Avonville had a number of unlocked doors. Though sometimes they’d be locked, because it was more fun.

He spent a few minutes checking the system. Looked at the temperature. Looked at the notes. It was all so blisteringly, searingly, achingly mundane. Looked like there was a short in a fuse, not his job, but he’d get it done. Looked like there was an old, old fan; again, easy fix, he’d order a replacement and get it in next week. He made notes, checked off possible solutions, checked over different locales indoor and out. Nearly an hour passed. Quick work for the price.

Daniel unscrewed a large, office-sized vent in the basement, next to the boiler. Curious - the screws weren’t even on, it had just been haphazardly stuck against the metal.

The tenebrous interior was large enough for him to couch into. It was seemingly free of dust on the inside, even though the outside was caked in the usual particulates. Within was the reason for his being called over, as well as the reason for said accumulation.

The reason made the oily sound of a squeegee against glass. Daniel wished he had another cigarette.

====

Katie had, in the past, used written contracts. She’d slide it over to the guy or gal in question for them to read over. She didn’t need to actually care, or anything like that, nor actually obey them. But they were a fun bit of set dressing. Sign on the dotted line. Become my plaything. Be taken care of. Go on safari. All that jazz.

Robin had signed actual paperwork, buying a home in the town on Crimson Drive. Time would tell if he’d actually stay, but Katie - being a top member of the Avonville council - was quite certain that there’d be no chance of him being an absentee landlord. Robin was paying to join Avonville, in part to get closer to Katie, in part because of the shiny, lurid delights Katie would offer. More than that, though, if for some reason, any reason he thought he would end up not living the rest of his years in Avonville, he’d essentially be subsidizing rent for whoever else wandered in. It wasn’t a very fair contract, but it was the one Katie had offered.

But this time, there was no bothering with a contract. She sat in his house, in his living room, drinking his wine. And all the while, he thought that he’d “convinced” her to come back to his house after a meeting at the Council’s office. Silly Robin, she thought, Don’t you know better than to bring strange women home?

He wasn’t a bore, and he had a few fun stories and ideas. Katie was hardly bored with the hour they spent over wine and snacks. But she was getting a tiny bit impatient for the “contract.” At least, what he thought the contract was.

“Escape from Avonville,” he said. “Good name. Sounds like a movie.”

Katie laughed, genuinely. “No movies about us would be allowed. But that’s cute. Quite good. Pretend that, if you like. Pretend that you’re the heroic protagonist who has to get out of town….”

“Before midnight,” he said. He had clearly been excited about this. He knew what the deal was, finishing her sentence.

She nodded. “That’s right. In the movie version, you’d probably save the Prime Minister or King or what have you. But in our version, if you win…” She waited for him to finish the sentence again. Because she wanted to see him blush.

He crossed his legs, presumably hiding an erection at what he was saying. Katie almost chuckled.

“If I escape,” he said, “If I make it to the border before midnight, YOU spend an entire week with me.”

“Doing what?” she asked, again, prodding him. She wanted to hear his more lurid fantasies.

“Doing everything-”

“Doing WHAT now?” She said it again, with a wider, dumber smile.

Robin seemingly took this as genuine confusion. Katie had to keep herself from laughing. He could be such a lunk.

“Well, if I escape, you’ll live with me for a week. Help clean. Help cook. And… do everything erotivores do. Suck. Tease. Use. Receive. Use that legendary flexibility and long tongue and tentacles to satiate my every fickle, hypersexual desire. You’ll do that, and you’ll love it, and you’ll do it as many times as I want it.”

He was so excited to say those words. Katie was eager to have him eat them.

“That’s right. And if you fail, well. You don’t leave Avonville anyway.”

He raised a glass to her. “A toast to a contract?”

The clink of glass. Katie was smiling.

A bit passed. The sun went down. She departed. Presumably, Robin wasn’t going to make a move to “escape” while a Mistform was in the room with him. So, she left his house for a minute, giving him a few minutes to feel like he had a chance. She communed with the other Mistforms, enjoying some symbiotic connection. She threw off clothes, stretched, and felt the dark embrace of her Mistform flow over her skin, her face. She became something inhuman, lethal… black, shining, voluptuous, and when needed, very stealthy.

Robin’s strategy was actually not too bad. He’d gotten samples of his own personal scent, refined it into an oil, and was going to use a hobby flying drone on autopilot to fly off and get the Mistform(s) off his trail. The first part worked, and confused, Mel departed her late evening feasting on the Larder to chase after what she thought was a target. Robin, wearing a cheap black turtleneck and dark jeans, stole into the night.

But not Katie. Not by a longshot. Katie was all about being the face of the party; about being there, in person, to celebrate. She trailed Robin with acuity greater than a bloodhound and more stealth than a hyper-lethal cobra. She let him get to within a few hundred yards of the town’s border, so she could feel his elation. So that when she decided to pounce, she knew how devastated he’d be. How strong those emotions would go, how hot he’d get when he know how far he was falling.

He made it to the treeline. He slowed down, walking slowly, carefully, taking one step after another. Robin couldn’t believe his luck; he was practically getting hard just thinking about his massive victory. Not far now. He cleverly avoided the thick thornbush, walked around the bundle of sticks, avoided the rustling shrubs… head down…

Head so far down, looking at the earth in the dark, he didn’t notice that his head was about to get pinched directly between the thundering thighs of his pursuer. He had a quarter-second of looking up to see her, but the image was inscribed into his brain like lightning.

She clenched her legs together, and used her hands to force his big head up to her womanhood. He said something that sounded like “no” as she squirted rubbery, organic webbing into his mouth. Kept going. One, two… three… that should do it, three seconds of packing was enough to keep any gag-slut satisfied.

That’s why she gave him another jolt of juice, making his cheeks bulge out quite nicely. Much, MUCH more nicely when she spent the time to rub over his head with her hands as well as her pussy, spinnerets coating that dome in the loving embrace of shiny, glossy white silk. In the colorless light and his very drab clothes, he looked like a prisoner about to be executed, wearing a ‘hood’ and in casual duds. His fate would take soooooo much longer. She pulled him up, up, up into the trees, using her strength and flexibility to allow her a smooth and gentle climb up into the canopy - all the while keeping his flailing, desperate, oxygen-deprived head FIRMLY between her thighs.

The way he kept slapping at her rear and legs to get her to let go? Priceless. It was like he was trying to “tap out,” but she wasn’t a wrestler and there was no referee. The Council had judged, and found him… acceptable. Certainly, found him worth the time to do all this to.

Katie stroked his sealed, white-webbed head for a few seconds more before taking him in her shoulders and releasing him. She was sure he was red in the face beneath the rubbery silk, and he inhaled JUST enough to keep him from passing out. Good. It would be madness to do all this just to let him fall unconscious. He had to feel every goddess-damned second of this.

Katie decided that she’d bring him back like a real Cro-Magnon. That meant webbing him from head to toe; classic, almost to be expected. A bit tighter than most would get, but then again, this was a ‘game,’ and he was losing. Extra layers, all of them shrinking all around him, had a few nice upsides for Katie specifically, though. It meant that she got to see his generous chest; abdominal muscles lit and caressed by her silk.

Oh yes, he was a strong one, and he had a vicious amount of struggle in him yet. The way his jaw flapped ,trying to dislodge the fat silk gag from his lips (impossible) was quite hot. The way that his torso, his pecs flexed when he tried to lift himself up and tear out of the silk (doubly impossible) really showed off that he was quite a specimen. Robin even did these damn sexy twitches of his manhood, which was, of course, bulging, sealed, shiny, and for the time being, about to be denied like hell as Katie took a victory lap.

Her silky cocoon kept thrashing, even as she finished her second layer. But this was just to protect him during the humiliating drag back. She lashed him to a web, and, as if she was carrying back a recent kill, began the slow march from the edge of town back to Crimson Drive. All the while, Katie heard the moans coming from her recent catch. They started with a bit more human than she expected. It almost sounded like Robin was saying, “good play “or “good game” or “fairly won.”

But after a few minutes, and as the rubber started to stiffen, the sounds got higher. Probably had something to do with his package, now absolutely THROBBING, being so prudishly packed up. The Mistforms ability to create aphrodisiac-like qualities was extra mean when you had nowhere to go. All that power, nothing to do with it… Katie was practically humming by the time she’d dragged him over the field and back to his home. He was a bit jostled, but nothing that an extra layer or two on the bottom hadn’t fixed.

Robin was in mint condition by the time they arrived home, so long as you were the kind of collector who liked their men absolutely vulcanized. Katie heard him making these gorgeous grunts as she picked him up, pulled him into the house, and sat him down at the very same table they had been at earlier.

He leaned forward, barely able to stand up straight from his head spinning. It looked like a prisoner being interrogated - though he wasn’t going to do any talking. Katie pinched his nose shut for a few seconds, just to make sure he felt the right amount of tension. And because she liked touching him.

She adopted the sternest tone she could, leaning in, rubbing a hand over his face. She saw him shaking his head ‘no’.

“No? No what, prey? Are you saying ‘no’, that you’re refusing the commands of your Mistress?”

Katie wasn’t even going to give her prey a chance to answer. She was going to enjoy him. The mistform slinked over the table, graceful as a cat, moving around him like a snake. Katie was on his lap now. Feeling him. Enjoying it. Enjoying how rigid, how needful he was. Tasting his essence, his erotic need, and letting it simmer and reduce. Oh yes. He was good. She spread her thighs slightly to let him feel her more, and it was like adding an extra shake of spice.

Extending herself, she took his head between her tits, and his smooth head between her hands. Gripping him from the side, she forced his head up.

“Refusing my commands can carry a serious price. You’ve already shown far more gumption than others. Maybe that’s you showing disobedience. Maybe you were even showing that you might not be willing to stick to our deal.”

He shook his head again, serving primarily to grind and rub his face against her firm flesh. Very, very good. She hugged tighter. The prey could feel her rippling, strong, toned body against his. Feel her pectorals and abdominal muscles against his webbed form. Feel her arms, slender yet easily able to crush, pulling him in tight. And he was shaking his head. No… no, he wouldn’t have reneged on the deal. Not that she’d let him.

Good. She was quivering herself, but trying to put on a traditionally dominant face. A humanist face. Suppressing all of her predatory urges for just a bit longer; a chef waiting for the pot to boil. Acting like a “human” domina for a brief moment, using her words and actions.

“Well. What exactly are you shaking your head for, hmm?” She leaned back, using a claw to carefully open his over-stuffed mouth for a few moments. She’d give him a few final words.

He gasped, webbing from his mouth, and took in a deep breath of air. Still rubber-wrapped, still encased, he managed to look almost sweet as he blindly raised his head .

“I never got to say you win.”

She thought for a moment about slapping him, about explaining that he didn’t NEED to say anything - that it was obvious that he’d lost. She thought about lots of things. And then she noticed that he was smiling. And that his lips were open. Almost licking them. Almost like he knew that she had a use for his mouth.

Katie shuddered. It was time.

Her tail  started to wind its way down between his legs. She was absolutely feasting. Up from the chair and over to the nearest surface. The mistform took her rewards, took them roughly, and took them over and over and over. Sweet music, endless and glorious begging, the mewling and needing and kneading. His mouth was very, very useful. Before having him orally service her, she made sure to have him plead and thrash and beg. A lioness and her prey. And when she had had her fill, she ensured that her prey was also filled; rear, mouth, even ears.

Robin knew he’d been absolutely defeated. And good god, he’d have it no other way. He wasn’t sure where he’d end up, but anyone who could have seen his glassy eyes would know he didn’t care. He was in heaven.

=====

Daniel saw the homeowner squeezed and webbed like an egg, like a cocoon, inside the HVAC. It was probably warm. He imagined the silksealed slave was sweating in there, wicked away but hot and bothered.

Robin’s face was a thing of horror. Or beauty, depending on your tastes. Ears plugged and stuffed, mouth trapped, cheeks bulging, but this vague shape of his sealed visage still very visible. Rubbery silk covered every millimeter of his body; he was in a fetal position, squished down to kneel, but raised up. Webbed from every angle, he was shaking and quivering in place. The knowledge that someone was nearby had woken him, and - suspended by his predator’s givings - he now writhed in place, slowly. The kind of low speed of someone in a satisfied, drugged out haze.

The repairman scratched his chin. He’d need a few extra tools. He checked down at his phone, and sent a quick message to the person who called it in. As clearly, the man of the house had not made the HVAC request.

Daniel: Gonna need to cut the guy out of here. Have to make a call. Might take a while. 

K: He’ll be patient. 

Daniel: There’s going to be an upcharge.”

K: Not a problem. 

When he’s out, tell him that it was a tie. He has to do it again in two weeks’ time.

The repairman shook his head. Poor lad was an absolute addict.

He stepped outside and lit another cigarette, got ready to call a specialist.

I can quit anytime…