Just Like The Movie, Spider Sexiness is ALLLL Aboard

Here's our old pal Spidey on the train, just about to shoot a web...

Little Miss Muffet is getting a lot more that bargained for in this submission.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chunnel Curds and Whey

By Toot Oot

Ms. Penelope Muffet fashioned her crestentoid hair piling, precisely into place with her inherited heirloom set of two lengthy pins, decorated in jewels more worthy of Queen Victoria at her coronation than an ancestral madam serving time in Holloway prison.  Penelope erotically fantasized, fingering her ivory and silver lined cameo locket shaped as a beastly spider.  Ms. Agnes Forester’s diary mentioned the gift as arriving from Her Majesty’s  East Indian Company Ambassador and noted Arachnologist, Lord Chamberplishner who had gotten her released in exchange for lifetime, sexual favors.

Ms. Muffet nor her Mumsie nor Grams ever spoke in polite company of  Grams’ Great Grannie Forester, whose Victorian brothel, “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, edged Drury Lane’s Covent Garden district.  Oral rumors passed down spoke of Saturday nights including a ceremonial canon single shot from the castle roof where naked male clients at full staff got primed for later intercourse firings while singing, “God Save the Queen”.

In that hypocritical age of stagnant social mobility, hidden sexuality, vulgar new money in one generation, diligently matured within two generations into old money and societal priviledge once well invested with charity tastefully offered.

Ms. Muffet might have relished her Parisian clothing with accessories and dining of lighter cuisine, but ahead lay the green of England past the undersea journey from Calais to Folkestone.   Covent Garden’s sanity was better than Paris’s insanity to an Englishwoman.

Penelope was fancying a decent cup of tea when her compartment went black. This did not alarm the poised lady of trained etiquette.  It simply would not be allowed to be ruffled by something so trite.  In the dark, Ms. Muffet became aware of giant hairy hands and legs pushing her thighs apart.  Well, this would never do, so she attempted to push this interloper away post haste.  The presumed man messaged his toffee treacle tentacles higher and higher until breaching her nest.

The private compartment with drawn drape darkness muffled Penelope’s shriek of rape from rescue.  Having become regretfully a spinster, the violation of her neglected vagina brought initial pain followed by unexpected guilty pleasure webbing up her body.  It was not the fantasy she had dreamt of at all, but stiff upper lip.

Penelope mindlessly chanted a nursery rhyme she not given a second thought to since her childhood, school days.

“Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a spider,

Who sat down beside her,

And took Miss Muffet’s hymen away.”

Penelope giggled sardonically with a tart’s angry release before regaining her poise.  This may not be considered attractive or proper in a woman of her age, but understandable.  Taking his cue that the last scene and act of the play had been completed the beast withdrew from Penelope as the lights returned.  Her hairy rapist morphed into a disgusting spider.  Ms. Muffet slowly let her hair down, smiled iniquitously,  spearing the spider beside her with both hair pins and devouring him as if he where curds and whey.

7 comments

  1. Parisianne Modert says:

    We find here in the rather vaginal Chunnel between France and England a delightfully naughty, but hardly nice plot. This prudish spinster, Ms. Muffet is indeed a very repressed evil surprise as we approach Halloween; while revisiting her heritage. This tale is a reserved dichotomy of light and dark stations styled a bit in the fashion of Dickens if he were 21st century and a bit of Mother Goose as a Victorian. Spiders, stabbings and sticky succulence, o, my! Yum…loved the crescendo swallowing of revenge served warm and kicking. I suppose deflowering an Englishwoman doth come at a high price.

  2. Diane Cresswell says:

    Well that was a waltz down Druy Lane. Certainly gives me pause to think again about reading nursery thymes from a very different perspective.

  3. Michael Stang says:

    A daring fictional exploit exposing the mind of a talented and deeply disturbed writer. Hard upper pussy, suffered (you can bet the author would want you to know that). On all accounts a helpless rape, but in the end the spider skewered for his/her troubles. I like this stuff! Is it just me? Don’t think so.
    Bravo!

  4. Laura G says:

    What a unique talent this writer has. She (I assume it is a she) has the ability to mix genres, including fantasy, historical fiction, erotica and her own special genre. She writes with a kind of synethesia, her prose like poetry. Her characters are often living scripted lives within the historical rules of their time, yet manage to have elaborate fantasies and realities that break the rules. The subject matter emerging within prim Victorian worlds is often dark and surprising, keeping readers on their toes and entertained. A true anachronism (and arachnid-ism)…

  5. Parisianne Modert says:

    I wish to tell the author that I had this as my number 7 pick which means on a merit not pick the last three blindly that your story belonged in the finals, but barely. Thank you for writing and sharing this neo-nursury rhyme turned into a story with us. The photo they choose did not do justice to the skill within your writing.

  6. Parisianne Modert says:

    This was my favorite of my three penned stories. Thus story is partially me in that I have become a unwanted spinster, am fascinated by, but scared of spiders & adore nursery rhymes. I learned my change in speech pattern from the male beat to the female melody by reading nursery rhymes over & over. The story contrasts my mother’s English, prudish behavior, judgments of what a mannerly lady of class should be against my own woman’s too long hidden, repressed sexual desires. It is also erotic & evil. Women are more than “sugar & spice & everything nice”. Ms. Muffet is violated but has her revenge, refusing to stay a victim.

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