Blaine, realizing that emotional protest clearly wasn’t going to work anymore, tried to counter rationally—tragically unaware that this wouldn’t work either—and froze mid-sentence. It was because Hurel had calmly muttered, “Then I’ll just pull it out,” and immediately followed through on those words.
Hooking the nails of his thumb and index finger deep into the center of Blaine’s areola, he pinched and yanked the nipple straight upward. Unfortunately, Blaine had been in the middle of opening his mouth wide to stop him—and as a result, what came out was an embarrassingly indecent scream that ended in a sharp “ng—ah!”
“I’m going to measure now, so keep it like this.”
“Hi—eeek…!”
At the crude, obscene command to keep his nipples erect, Blaine’s entire body shook as he sucked in a shrill breath. Treacherously, his nipples—utterly indifferent to his will—stood stiff and quivered upright. Hurel handled them without any restraint, looping the measuring tape around them, measuring the diameter of the tip, checking their height, doing whatever he pleased.
“Stop… stop it, stoppp…”
“Mm, okay. All done. It’s over.”
All strength drained from him at once. Watching the honeybee slump and tremble at the word over, Hurel smiled beautifully. Then, as if rewarding obedience, he gently—light as settling snow—pressed his lips to each of Blaine’s still-proud nipples.
“Good boy. You listen so well.”
“Ugh…”
The sweet praise nearly melted his brain. Blaine almost smiled foolishly before snapping back to his senses like he’d been struck by lightning. Am I actually crazy? Or did my brain just rot from living too lazily? Why the hell am I smiling at that?
“Hurel, no matter how I think about it, this is weird. You need to explain this right n—ahk?!”
It seemed reason had finally crept back in—but Hurel found that extremely inconvenient. Clicking his tongue internally, he reached out and mercilessly grabbed Blaine’s cock. Blaine let out a desperate scream as his lifted head fell back onto the bed with a dull thud.
“I-it hurts… ngh.”
Gripping hard enough that nails dug into skin, Hurel pressed the measuring tape against Blaine’s pubic bone and dragged it slowly along the shaft. Blaine’s neck arched back violently, veins standing out sharply as his face turned crimson, forehead veins bulging as he roared.
“Stop—stop, s-stop!! What the hell are you—!”
“I’m measuring.”
“Don’t make me laugh! I’ve never heard of anyone measuring like this—how much do you plan to mess with m—!”
“Blaine, what do you know about how spiders tailor clothes?”
Every species lived by its own customs. Blaine definitely didn’t want to hear that from the bastard who’d ripped out living creatures’ precious stingers. It was outrageous. But… it was also true that he knew nothing about spider tailoring.
Honeybees were all issued identical work uniforms in one of seven standardized sizes. Plain black spandex bodysuits optimized for labor. It was fine for smaller worker bees—but Blaine, who was slightly more developed than average, had his package visibly jutting out against the fabric when tucked left.
At best, he’d skimmed something like Textiles and Loom Weaving out of boredom once.
“Still… this is too weird…”
“I wasn’t going to say this, but…”
With a soft charrk, the spider lowered his gaze beneath long lashes, worrying his lip as if hesitating.
“Measuring here is very important. Otherwise, things might stick out crudely—like with the clothes you wore before. It was honestly such an eyesore…”
“E-eyesore…?”
Blaine’s mouth fell open.
The word eyesore struck his heart like a dagger.
Worker-bee uniforms were functional—bluntly put, skin-tight black spandex suits. It wasn’t an issue for smaller bees, but Blaine’s… slightly better development meant the outline of what he’d tucked left showed clearly.
“…Was it really that ugly?”
It hadn’t been ugly at all—in truth, Hurel had almost lost his mind wanting to fuck him. But that wasn’t something he could exactly confess, so the spider put on a deliberate look of regret.
Blaine’s face flushed beyond any reasonable limit, tears pooling in his eyes as utter dejection spread across his expression.
“Don’t be too upset. We can fix it now.”
Blaine dropped his gaze and glanced subtly between Hurel’s legs.
He really didn’t want to think about it, but remembering the way it had felt inside him—the tearing pressure, the feeling of being split open—Hurel must have been carrying something horrifyingly huge. And yet, between the spider’s legs, there was nothing. Completely smooth.
Not small—absent.
That kind of thing could really be hidden by clothes? Was that even possible?
“N-no, at least let me do it myself—hnng, h-ik!”
“Relax. Good boy.”
Five fingers glided fluidly, like a dance, stroking up along the shaft. The other hand, holding the tape, rubbed the smooth edge slowly against the entrance, now dampening. When someone else’s fingers—soft ones, far gentler than his own rough hands—touched the most sensitive place, Blaine felt like his spine was collapsing inward.
And worse, exposing such an intimate moment to another made it unbearably humiliating.
“S-stop… hnng, ahh…”
“Don’t kick. You’ll hurt yourself. Or me.”
Even amid the confusion of forced arousal, the absurdity of that complaint irritated him. At the same time, a slick, obscene sound filled the air as the spider’s palm moved more quickly.
“Hh—ngh…!”
There was nothing he could do but bite his lip until it hurt to keep from moaning. One hand clutched Hurel’s shoulder tightly, the other covered his own mouth. Out of sight, the spider dipped his head and smiled.
Nothing was stopping him now.
So Hurel indulged himself—looping the tape around the thick head to tickle it, cinching it painfully tight, scraping the shaft with the tape’s edge, kneading the hanging balls, pressing a fingernail to the entrance to measure its diameter—playing with the honeybee without restraint.
As the prolonged humiliation continued, Blaine’s eyes lost focus entirely. He trembled, utterly gone. Pitiful thing.
“…!”
Pressing the tape insistently against the slit, nearly forcing it in, tormenting him with nails while the other hand kneaded the balls like dough—Blaine, eyes flooded with tears, writhed helplessly under the pleasure crashing over him. At this point, everything became very easy.
“W-wait—wait, just wait—stop your hand, just a s-second…”
The oncoming climax drained all color from Blaine’s face. Cumming while getting measured for clothes—absolutely not. He wouldn’t even want that in a nightmare. Even if it meant throwing that delicate, beautiful spider across the room, he had to stop it.
But Hurel moved faster.
Burying his face into Blaine’s chest, he found a nipple with practiced ease and clamped down. He sucked hard on the plump flesh while moving his left hand rapidly and pressing firmly on the perineum with his right.
“Aaah…!”
Unable to stop his own voice, Blaine cried out as he came, drool spilling from his open mouth, face dazed. This sensation was entirely new. His mind went completely white—he could do nothing as pleasure poured over him, twisting and wringing out moans he’d never made in his life.
“Uuuh…”
Easily flipping the still-trembling body over, Hurel turned Blaine’s head to the side so he could see that pretty, dazed face—eyes nearly rolled back—arched his waist upward, and pulled his thighs wide apart.
Still trembling, still leaking pale fluid, his exposed cock and the twitching, adorable opening beneath it were fully revealed.
Same color as the nipples, huh. Well, I’ll just have to make that red too.
Thinking calmly, Hurel spread the round buttocks and placed the measuring tape over the hole.
“…Don’t.”
Too late to cry now. Suppressing a laugh, Hurel smoothly brought his fingers back to the still-sensitive entrance and freshly spent cock, licking his lips as he savored the honeybee’s tear-soaked, broken moans—ringing like heavenly music.
