Why do your shoulders look like they’ve caved in…? They weren’t this narrow and droopy before, were they? And what’s with the thundercloud over your head—some kind of fashion statement?
“Bee-Bee? Aren’t we leaving?”
Hurel, staggering like a drugged-up chick (seriously, why?), turned around with a pale face as he stepped out of the thicket. The honeybee, still sitting motionless on a broad rock, gulped hard, his throat visibly twitching. His sharp blue eyes shimmered with conflicted emotions, and he was gnawing at his thin lips. After a long silence, Blaine finally opened his mouth.
“…I’ll show you. Come here.”
He wanted to stall as much as possible while undressing, but there were only two buttons on his shirt, so there wasn’t much to delay with. Despite his inner hesitation, he ended up pulling it off far too quickly and sighed deeply before he even realized it. The motion made the blades of his shoulders rise and flex sharply beneath the skin.
Confident that Blaine couldn’t see what was happening behind him, Hurel licked his lips freely. He’d already had more than his fill of Blaine’s backside while keeping him hidden at home (locking him up), but even now it was stunningly impressive—never got old.
It was just the two of them here anyway, so transformation should be fine.
Pop! Two fuzzy antennae sprouted over Blaine’s honey-brown hair. They were black, fluffy, and cottony. Hurel’s gaze—burning like that of a predator staring down prey—shifted from Blaine’s back to those glittering antennae. God, they looked so touchable…
Ffft—
Finally, the wings unfolded. Compared to Blaine’s broad, rugged back, they looked small and fragile.
He actually flies with those? Still, how could a living being be this cute? There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t perfect.
“S-So? What do you think?”
Despite all his resistance to showing them, the honeybee now fidgeted with his fingers, asking nervously. His shoulders were tense, and his voice trembled—he was clearly anxious.
“I’ve flown up to eight miles with these. In summer and winter, I flap them up to 250 times a second to regulate the hive temperature. My top speed was nearly 30 meters per second…”
As if he’d never hesitated at all, the honeybee began proudly boasting about his wings. Then he flinched slightly at the soft touch brushing his wing joints. The gentle fingers stroked the ridge along the base, then slid down the fine wing veins—it tickled.
“…They’re beautiful.”
“Right?! I knew you’d think so!”
“Yeah, really beautiful.”
Now it wasn’t just fingers. Soft, moist lips brushed gently against his wing joints, clinging and releasing in a delicate rhythm. It sent a hot, squirmy feeling fluttering in his belly. It was so embarrassing—but at the same time, he kind of wanted more.
“My body’s huge, but my wings are small and super well-formed—people compliment them all the time. Of course, it’s not just about how they look. What matters is how well you use them! I’ve always scored highest in flight duration…”
“Mhm. They’re beautiful. You have every reason to be proud, Bee-Bee.”
“I-I mean, it’s not like I’m bragging or anything… They’re just… really precious.”
For honeybees, wings were more valuable than life. So it made sense that Blaine cherished them and was proud of them. Hurel, unsatisfied with just light kisses, slipped out his tongue and gave the wing’s edge a small lick, fingertips caressing every delicate surface.
The wings felt like paper-thin membranes stretched over fine branches. With just a little pressure from his fingers—no, even his grip—they could easily snap.
Ah… he cherished them so deeply. If they broke, he’d cry in utter misery, wouldn’t he? He’d despair like a madman, denying reality and howling in agony. It would be so beautiful.
Would it be better to snap them all at once and watch him fail to process what just happened, dumbfounded and pitiful? Or maybe he should grab them firmly, declare he’s about to tear them off, and savor the reaction. Would Blaine scream and struggle, or beg and plead pathetically, offering anything? Maybe he should just snap the ridge, give him false hope that they could be repaired… Then shatter that hope into pieces in the end.
Watching that change in his expression… That alone would be worth it.
But ultimately, it didn’t really matter which method he chose. What did matter was this: Once Blaine lost his stinger and his wings, Hurel could cradle him lovingly in his arms and whisper the truth into his ears— You can’t live without me now. The very thought nearly made him climax on the spot. Anyone who saw the expression on his face just then would’ve fainted in terror. Hurel exhaled deeply, the hot breath rising from his very core.
“I know I keep saying this, but… they really are precious to me.”
Well, if they weren’t that important, there’d be no meaning in breaking them.
“Normally, we don’t show them off like this. I… I’m only showing you because I trust you, Hurel.”
……
“For honeybees, wings aren’t something we show even to close friends. It’s like… a sign of trust.”
As he spoke, the rims of his ears flushed a soft pink. The wing in Hurel’s grasp trembled faintly.
“Hey, Hurel, um… have you seen enough yet? I-I’m not rushing you or anything…”
Blaine cautiously tested the waters, hoping his request didn’t give away the truth: That the gentle strokes against his wings felt so good, he actually wanted more.
“…Bla—”
He leaned in instinctively toward the low, rough rasp of the spider’s voice— But over that husky murmur, a desperate scream suddenly rang out.
“HELP MEEEE!!”
A piercing, metallic shriek split through the air like a knife to the eardrums. Blaine startled violently, jumping to his feet. Hurel, who looked like he’d just lost a baby bird from the palm of his hand, snapped back to his senses and quickly followed after him.
“Please help me!! Somebody, anyone?! HELP!!”
The farther they pushed into the thicket beyond their resting place, the louder the cries became. It was the helpless plea of a creature cornered, panting for breath, about to collapse. Blaine, already gasping, pushed his tired legs harder and sprinted.
“Is no one out there?! If there really is no one, then dear god, PLEASE send me someone! And if someone is there and you’re ignoring me—just go DIE, you empathy-lacking garbage! No, scratch that! Don’t die—live a long, miserable life filled with baldness and chronic disease!!”
“……”
…Cornered, huh?
Blaine staggered a little at that unexpected line, his thoughts spinning for a second. But with his natural athleticism, he quickly recovered and charged ahead. He pushed through the tall grass brushing against his shoulders and peered inside, and finally, found the source of the voice.
Despite the dramatic cries, the man was sprawled flat on the ground like a corpse. He was tall—just as tall as Blaine. Not that Blaine had never met someone his height before, but it was still rare.
Whereas Blaine had soldier hornet-like muscles, smooth and defined curves, and an eye-catching chest without ever undergoing special training— This guy was just… big. And brawny. Where Blaine’s looks leaned toward refined, this man had a feral wildness to him. Well—that’s the flattering version of it.
That savage, no—rugged—appearance was quickly undermined by the way the man was flailing on the ground, sniffling and crying.
“Those bastards…! W-Wait! Oh my god, I’m saved! You—please help me! Help me, I’m begging you!”
And as Blaine stood there, completely unsure how to process or respond to this chaos, he chose— out of all possible reactions— the dumbest one.
“Uh… hello?”
An awkward silence fell.
Technically, it wasn’t wrong for a creature to offer a polite greeting to someone they’d just met. The man on the ground, clearly caught off guard, hesitated, then stammered out a reply.
“Ah, y-yes, hello. Nice weather we’re having—NO, WAIT! HELP ME!!”
“Ah—!”
“I can’t get up, please help me!!”
