Daddy Longlegs

Daddy Longlegs

Rachel reluctantly threw her blanket on the floor. It was time to get up, although she didn't feel like it at all. She felt the last night's absurd amounts of alcohol still poisoning her system, slowly burning away, turning her stomach upside down and hammering her pretty head with a baseball bat in the process. She puked a little over the side of the bed, right on the blanket.

She struggled to raise herself into a sitting position on the bed, her safe haven of comfort against the mean hangover. She glanced at her cellphone on the nightstand if anybody had missed her. But nobody had, which she found quite surprising. The clock almost screamed 4pm.

"Oh no it can't be that late, why didn't they come and wake me up?" she sighed and stood up, just to fall back on the bed immediately afterwards. Lightheadedness, you sly bastard, she thought and tried to get up again, much more slowly this time. She felt exhausted just by standing up and grabbed her clothes, black jeans and her mother's old purple sweater.

"Aaw crap I ruined my shirt yesterday," she moaned. It was her favorite shirt, nothing glamorous since she felt awkward using anything fancy, but for some illogical reason that red, short-sleeved shirt, showing just the right amount of cleavage when worn, was her favorite.

She stepped outside of the guest house, a small wooden cabin, and raised her hand to cover her eyes against the sudden brightness. It was a beautiful day, rays of sunshine flickered through the canopy of the forest, birds singing... Picture perfect. The sudden sweetness of the moment caused her stomach to start rebelling.

She noticed her parents' car wasn't around. It didn't worry her, her folks always had something they had to go get from the nearest town, which was around 20 miles away. The main house was kind of old, renovated recently though, and a great place to be during the summer. The only thing Rachel sort of dreaded was the old outhouse, now sitting in the large shadow cast by the main house.

"City-girls like their city-bathrooms, thank you very much," she remembered saying some years ago when she first visited the place and refused to go in to the outhouse. Of course she had to use it at some point, but she never used it without complaining.

She noticed a barrel of water, where they had kept the beers the night before. She wondered closer to it and noticed there were still some left. She grabbed one and opened it.

"One for medicine won't kill me," she convinced herself and took a big gulp. It was oddly refreshing, and washed that nasty cat-shit taste mixed with vomit out of her mouth. Her stomach didn't agree though, and rumbled a little.

"Please stop," she whispered to her stomach, gently rubbing it.

But no, it was time to go. Rachel sprinted across the yard, feeling the inevitable explosion in her pants counting down. She struggled with the door, which had a habit of getting stuck so bad you can't open it from the inside. She finally managed to pull the door open with force, and threw the lid off of the wooden box with a hole on it some people consider a toilet, and jumped on it, pulling her pants down on the fly like a ninja. Then she let it rip.

The feeling of pleasure was overwhelming, as she gave birth to something that could be described as watered down chocolate smoothie, splattering like little grenades around the insides of the toilet. She sighed and giggled a bit at the thought of almost losing another piece of clothing. Or rather pieces. She didn't think of herself as one those princesses who treasure their wardrobe above anything else, but she admitted there was a certain special relationship she had with her clothes.

The smell in the outhouse was, as always, almost unbearable. She shivered as she wondered the amount of feces under her, and felt repulsed when she wondered if it could get full enough to touch her bare butt-cheeks.

The outhouse was dark, and it had no light. During winters it was like pissing in the dark. A roll of toilet paper on her left patiently waited for Rachel to finish her nasty deeds. She couldn't stop yet though, as she felt there was more on the way but it required some effort to squeeze out.

She noticed a lonely spider hanging on the small window of the door. She tried to recall what it was called, long legs and a tiny middle part, daddy longlegs spider or something similar. A harmless little creature, although she remembered way back when she started the first grade the kind of a mass psychosis among girls a little guy like that always created. She never was afraid of spiders so she was the one killing them throughout grade school and to some extent in high school too. Rachel the Spider Slayer.

"Yup, that's me alright," she mused.

Something touched her bottom, which made her jump a little. Chills ran across her back, thinking it was a friend of the little guy in the window. She wasn't afraid of them but she wouldn't want one skittering around her skin either. Another touch, like a needle caressing her skin. She jumped out of the toilet seat and pulled her pants up, without even stopping to think about wiping. Well, who would have?

She carefully moved closer to see the inside of the toilet, and a huge pair of glowing yellow eyes stared back at her. Shocked, she turned around and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Open goddammit!" she screamed and kept hitting the door, slamming it with her body repeatedly to no avail. She kept trying to open the door as she looked behind her and screamed again.

It was big. The head looked similar to the head of a praying mantis, with huge yellow eyes curiously staring at this new acquaintance, mandible moving like the thing had something to say. Something fell from its jaws, making a splat when it hit the floor. Two long, hairy front legs waived their way on the sides of Rachel, hooking themselves against the wall with small claws at the tips of the legs.

"Please, wha... please help me, somebody!" Rachel yelled at the top of her lungs, praying there was a living soul nearby, knowing there wasn't. Not even her parents. Thinking about them, and maybe never seeing them again made her knees give up, and she fell down, her back against the door.

The creature climbed up from the hole, revealing its head was attached to its body by a long hairy neck. Four similar legs to the front ones, a little thicker though, sprouted from its torso. It was too dark to see, but the stench had gotten so foul that the thing's body must've been covered in feces. It poked Rachel's right breast with its leg, and cut her sweater open to reveal it. Rachel's shock only grew deeper. Was the thing going to molest her now? She could barely think as she tried escaping again, by pushing her back against the door, and using her legs to push against the box they call a toilet with all her strength, but the damned door simply wouldn't budge.

The thing lowered its head close to Rachel's, almost at kissing range. Something wet dribbled down from its head, some of it landing on Rachel. Almost liquefied shit. The creature's mandible made excited clicking sounds as it bit into Rachel's nose. Rachel, screaming, kicking and bleeding like a fountain from her nose, fought back and punched the creature, which caused it to pull its head back up with an angry hissing sound. The thing struck Rachel, its front leg piercing inside her right shoulder, and held on with its claws as the creature started climbing back down the hole, dragging the poor girl along. Rachel managed to kick at one of the creature's legs, and was surprised by how little force it took to break the leg off.

The thing went into a frenzy, and while balancing itself with its three remaining legs, it started striking Rachel with its only free front leg. Smearing feces all over the place while trying to fend off this strange human attacker, Rachel ignored the creature's attacks and swung her left hand down as hard as she could on the leg gripping a hold of her. She managed to break it in half with ease, and pulled out the remaining piece of insect claw. She got up and jumped at the thing. The panicked creature tried to keep Rachel away but she grabbed the thing's head in between her hands, and pressed with all her might.

A slight pop was heard as the fragile skull of the creature cracked and imploded, splattering its dark cranial ooze all over Rachel and the wall of the outhouse. Rachel, exhausted, fell back against the door, which then opened, leaving her lying on a stone pathway on the ground.

Too tired to think about anything, Rachel quietly wept and remarkably, pissed herself. But at this point, she couldn't give a damn about clothes anymore.