Corrupt her. Kind of.

You have an idea. Gods help you but you do. Well, if it goes wrong, there’s always plan B. Her eyes flutter open, slow and hazy. She wriggles weakly but her manacles of web have little give. Her eyes snap open and to her shackles.

“What-What’s going on!” she screams, thrashing like a juicy fly within your web. “What is this?”

“This?” You cackle, doing your best evil laugh and scuttle out of the shadows. Her eyes widen in horror at the sight of your golden fur and eight long legs. Your red eyes stare into hers. Where before she struggled away now she shrinks back into the velvet of the greater web.

You step forward slowly, her face reflecting in all eight of your eyes. Your mandibles rub against one another hungrily. “I finally have you right where I want you. Watching isn’t good enough anymore. I must have you.”

“You…You’ve been watching me?” Her breasts heave and sway with her labored breath.

You catch yourself watching her bouncing udders. Fucking mammals. “Yessss.” Did you seriously draw that out? Gods… “I have been. I know everything about you. And now. I have come to take what I wanted.”

She shrinks away. Her skin has turned a lovely flushed red like tender meat. “Please don’t eat me.”

“Eat you?” You laugh maniacally, **** halfway through at the unfamiliar exertion. Shit. Looks like she didn’t notice though. “No my precious. I will not eat you. I have much grander plans for you.”

“P-plans?” she quavers. She flinches away as your forelegs slam into the web alongside her. You lean in, baring your fangs dripping with your paralyzing venom.

“Yes. Much bigger. For you see, my dear, I do not want to eat you. But turn you!”

“Turn me!”

“Turn you. Yes. Turn you into my bride. For you see, my venom is a potent aphrodisiac. But a touch of it in your veins, and you shall be mine! Body and soul. Your will ground to serving me in all things. And you will enjoy every minute of it.”

“No!” she cries. “Please!”

“Never. Too long have I help myself back. But now, you will be mine! And together, we shall turn your abbey into a den of debauchery and evil! And you will help me, at my side. My queen! Mother of the doom of the abbey!”

Shit. You got caught up in the moment there. There’s laying it on thick then there’s…That.

“You monster!” she cries.

Duh. The hell’s that smell? It’s not a bad one mind, kind of musky. But…You look down and start. She’s practically dripping down there! You can fairly feel the heat of her cunt warm the air between you and your stomach.

You stare at her flushed face. No way.

She turns away. “Do what you must, you monster!” she cries, sobbing. “Take me! I cannot stop you.”

“Um. Okay then.”

“Inject me if you must. Take away my will! Turn me into your thrall. Take my body! But you shall never have my heart!”

You stare, blinking slowly. “Oh! Yeah. Okay then. So…”

“Do it! Inject me with your corruptive fluids! Fill me with your breeding flesh!”

…Right then. You lean forward and gently presses your fangs into her neck. She cries out and stiffens, her thighs rubbing desperately together. “Goddess! Forgive me!”

Fucking drama queens. You inject in a fraction of your venom, just enough to make her tingle, but the way she screams you’d think you’d **** fed her molten lava. You wince. She’s got a pair of lungs and this room has far too good acoustics.

“Silence!”

She does, whimpering in despair. “It’s too late for me,” she sobs. “Sisters. I love you. Forgive me what I must do.”

You’re on the verge of knocking her out again with a more potent dose when you feel her press her shapely breasts against you. Her nipples like pebbles rub against your hairy underside, her mount grinding against you. Shit. This is too good. You hiss and your ovipositor slides free, the tip rubbing against her heated folds.

“You beast! You monster! Ohhhhh!” She cries, throwing her head side to side, golden hair flicking against your face. “Ravish me you beast!”

“Sure!”

You crawl up further atop her, pressing your golden fur against her body. She breathes deeply of your fur, moaning whorishly, licking and kissing your body. “Please!” she gasps. “Not my purity!”

“Dammit woman don’t rush me!”

“Forgive me master!”

You shudder at her tone. But you must be firm. Apparently. “No, whore. Now, feel my…my turgid member.”

“No! Not that!”

You don’t trust yourself to reply. Instead, you sheathe yourself within her. She gasps and moans in pain as you breach her hymen, sobbing quietly. “My purity…”

“I’ll fill you with something soon enough,” you promise her, moving as deeply as you can, feeling your eggs churn within you and the blood upon your breeding stick.

“Yes master,” the nun cries. “I am yours, utterly! Master, please, breed me! You have taken me utterly! Do with me-“

“Gods do you ever shut up?”

“I-“ She keens as you drive yourself as deep as you can. Hm. That worked. Now you have two reasons to plow her as deep as you can, as if how delicious her naked, soft human form felt against you did not invite enough of one. You give her no chance to speak, bouncing her on your ovipositor and against the web, crushing her beneath your hairy body, relishing in how she moans into your fur.

She comes quickly, crying out against you in submission. You know because she tells you.

“Now woman. Take my eggs!”

“Yes master!” she gasps. “Breed me!”

You hiss, feeling the first of your eggs slide through the chamber, bulging your flesh as it’s squeezed out of you. She groans, opening her hips where she is bound to better accept you. Gasping, you feel her cunt clench against the intrusion, but your egg cannot fail to enter her, pushing past, sliding inside, filling her womb.

“Oh master! It feels so good!”

“Good because there’s more coming.”

“Thank you master! Thank you!”

Gods you’d be unbelievably pissed if she didn’t squeeze you so good! Again and again you pump your eggs into her until her stomach swells slightly with her new burden. You pull back, mucus sealing shut her womb and the eggs within for now. Panting, you crawl down from her, drawing back to squat on all eight legs on the cold stone floor.

“Master,” she groans, sagging from her wrists on the web. You eye her stomach, admiring the new curve beneath her heaving udders, her nipples flushed and raw from rubbing against you, her thighs quivering with need and slickened with her own juices, her cheeks aglow with pleasure. “Master. I’m so full.”

“Get used to it,” you grunt. “I’ll be keeping you nice and full for the rest of your days.”

“Thank you,” she sobs. “Thank you so much.”

“Uh…yeah. Right.”

“Master. May I come down now?” she begs. “I am your bride. Please. Let me serve you.”

You pause, hesitant. She might make a break for it, if this was all an act. On the other hand, it would prove for sure where her loyalties lie. And you must admit the thought of her serving you properly is a tantalizing one.