Creepy Crawlies

Perhaps, for a moment, I managed to convince myself of the veracity of my excuses; because only at the very last moment did I abruptly cross the gap from my room to Gillian's, causing her to start in surprise. The image of Carmencita had sprung before my eyes, lying on the table in that small conference room, her legs open revealing the fact of my having filled her up, when she'd already drained me with her mouth just hours before. I could not afford not to indulge my sister, giving her the leverage to compel me to fuck her. She was certain to make me cum, and then there would be no hiding my deviancy. There was, yet again, **** but to do as requested.

"Just for today," I said, "I'll indulge the namby pamby in me. Show me where the damn thing is."

Smiling, she took me by the arm and swiftly pulled me inside her den, shutting the door behind us. I was instantly on edge, or more on edge than before. I wanted nothing but to get out, spider or not. It's already uncomfortable entering the private space of a sibling. Unlike friends or partners, if you look at the contents of your arch rival's bedroom, you're not going to find a treasure cove of interesting facts and causes for endearment about them; you know what a weird, awful individual they can be, and risk exposing yourself to all sorts of reminders of their worst aspects. You might stumble on a toy that you know and always knew they stole from you, but your parents sided with the enemy. You might discover exactly how abysmal their taste in music really is, or how vapid their choices for reading. But this was on another level.

It was so bad that my hair was standing on end. There was a malign presence in the room, I could feel it. I even got a feel for where it was before Gillian sidled up close and gently turned me around on the spot so I was facing wall opposite her window. She made me take a few steps backwards, and the spider came into view.

To its credit, the thing had the main features of what everybody thinks is a spider: eight legs, body in three sections, a web made of some strange sticky stuff, and the ability to walk on vertical surfaces. But for all that, standing in its web just above the cupboard, it was still so far removed from an actual spider that I could only conclude Gillian must be under some delusion, probably by the same alteration to her behaviour as that which had taken over everyone else. Were she of sane mind and senses, I reckon she'd have mentioned the fact that her visitor was made of metal with a single glowing red eye in the centre of its thorax.

"How am I going to get rid of that?" I said, thinking aloud, "It's huge."

Gillian grabbed a dry bathroom towel from her bed and held it up. "Smother it?" she suggested. "That's what I tried."

"And what went wrong?" I asked.

She hesitated, frowning as if her memory were failing her. "Well, I couldn't get it in the cloth..."

I took the towel from her, and made a show of examining it, while asking myself an important question: what would I do? Particularly, what would I do if this really were just some big gnarly-looking spider?

"How about a large jam jar?" I said, "Do we have one anywhere?"

Gillian lit up from head to foot, standing up straight quite suddenly and sending her breasts a-jiggling. "I know!" she exclaimed, "We'll use that big glass thing that Mum keeps the flowers in. She'll never know. Wait here while I fetch it." And she sauntered out before I had time to react.

So now I was alone in the enemy camp, in the presence of a horrible creepy robot. Without thinking I turned away from the spider, my revulsion for it compelling me not to look at it. It felt like my guts wanted to burst out of me and crawl away rather than linger here. And then the malaise subsided. What had been a burning presence boring a hole in my back vanished. Yet when I spun around once more the thing was still there. However, the light had dimmed.

While able to think clearly for a bit, I tried to ponder the situation. It looked as though not only was there some weird psychedelic substance at large that was altering people's attitudes, but now also fake spiders hiding in plain sight, which those afflicted by the psychedelics didn't realise were fake. But why did it make me, the outlier, feel sick? And what was it doing to the afflicted besides looking harmless but a bit gross?

Gillian returned swiftly, holding the big vase thing of Mother's. It was an unusually simple shape for its kind, and you could easily mistake it for an oversized jam jar or pot, just a big fat cylinder. The opening was flat and free of decorative gaps that the spider might slip through to escape. At the moment the glass was opaque with tiny water droplets, suggesting it had just been emptied of its contents.

"You'll be able to put the plants back in afterwards?" I said, picturing her tipping the whole thing into the kitchen sink, flowers, water and all, without a second thought. Sister rolled her eyes at me.

"I'm not a twit, thank you." she said, holding out the vase towards me. I took it and experimented covering the opening with the dry bath towel, before looking around for a chair to stand on. There was one at Gilly's desk, which I grabbed. I got all set to carry out the mission, one foot on the seat, glass and cloth in hand, and almost launched myself up. Gillian held me back.

"What?" I barked, unable to hide my frustration. It had just occurred to me the robot might not play along like a spider when I tried to capture it, and all manner of possible nasty responses were racing through my brain. The sooner I found out the lesser the pain, I thought.

Sister was now very close, holding my arm with both hands, looking up at me with big brown eyes of worry. "What if," she said in a small voice, "What if it's a venomous spider?"

"Venomous? On this planet?" I shook my head and managed a smile, "You've read too many adventure novels about Terra. There's nothing like a proper venomous spider up here, and especially not in a crowded city like ours."

But she held on insistently, foiling me again, "But what if it was, um, illicitly imported?"

She was beginning to pull on me, whether consciously or not I didn't know. But with one leg on the chair, if I didn't shake her off or step down, I'd soon lose balance and topple – right into her bosoms. But I was having trouble deciding whether Gillian was being silly or if I should take her seriously.