A Stranger Comes to Town, Part 7 (Multi TFTG) (Patreon)

No vote this time! I just really wanted to do the drider one, haha! Plus, he'll be fun to revisit in the epilogue. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment what TF you might like for Part 8!

By FoxFaceStories

Friendly Oaks is just an ordinary rural town, full of common people and professions. But beneath that kind surface there are all manner of rivalries, tensions, hypocrisies, and love affairs. When a Stranger wanders into town, the people of Friendly Oaks find themselves changing - literally - after encountering him. Some transformations are small, others massive, some well-deserved, some not at all. But the town won’t be the same once the Stranger is done with it.

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Part 7: Spider Drider

They called him The Spider. There were a number of reasons for this. For one, spiders were terrifying, and usually synonymous with everything dangerous and badass. For two, he had a mean looking tattoo on his right upper arm and on the left side of his face, both of which were in the shape of a mean-looking spider surrounded by a web. And for three, he was fucking dangerous too, so when Angus Dalton insisted you call him The Spider, you damn well did so. He was a hulking brute of a man, only of average height but incredibly broad, with a gut that was thick from a life of drinking beer, and yet had the thick muscle and implacable weight of a professional club bouncer. His beard was black and bristled and long, his eyebrows too. Even his ear and nose hair was prominent, though it only seemed to emphasise his wildness rather than appear ridiculous. With his craggy face and thick limbs, he was a wall of a human being, and upon his trademark Harley Davidson in his black leathers and spider-themes jacket, he almost looked like he could crush his own vehicle into little itty bits. He probably could.

He was at his favourite bar in his favourite seat. Some pissant had just tried to claim said seat, and now that pissant was eating gravel outside, and probably still looking for his missing teeth. The Spider didn’t take to people laughing at his name, nor anyone looking at him funny. He was in his late forties, but something about him just seemed older and even meaner. The local kids joked that he was old as the town itself, and would never die so long as there were roads to roar down, beers to be drunk, and violence to be had.

Which was why it was very curious to the Spider that when he finished his drink and paid his tab - he always paid his tab provided he was given a good discount - he proceeded to walk outside and find a stranger looking at his bike. He was a tall man, much taller than Spider, and he was dressed like some ancient Southern Baptist preacher, the kind that the biker had little respect for unless he was the kind to buy some drugs on the side, which Spider knew how to get for the right price.

“That’s my bike, sonny,” he said in his coarse voice. It was a raspy voice, weathered by years of yelling, exclaiming, and cigarette use. Not to mention being punched in the diaphragm more than once. “You best back off now. I don’t go holding with people touching my bike. They tend to get fucked up.”

The strange figure stopped bending over to inspect the Harley, and instead stood up to his full height. Spider wasn’t intimidated. The guy looked like a twig, even his eyes were a little weird, almost like they were full of lights. Probably just some trick of the sun.

“I saw the individual who was kicked out earlier,” the figure said, in a voice that wasn’t raspy but seemed weathered and older, somehow, and with an odd reverberance like that of tinkling glass. “I would emphasise upon kicked. He was missing all four front teeth and trying to say something about a ‘crazed spider.’ Was that you he was referring to, perchance?”

Spider chuckled darkly. He raised a fat finger to the side of his face, then to his upper arm, where tattoos of spiders had been inked onto his flesh. Then he turned slowly, and jabbed a thumb at the large spider pattern on the back of his leather jacket.

“Fucking yeah I am, Einstein. Asshole was sitting in my seat. I taught him a lesson he won’t soon forget. Same lesson I’ll beat into your fucking brains if you don’t step away from my bike.”

The stranger did, though his hand hovered close to it still. Something about him unnerved Spider in a way no one else ever had. Still, he had to put up a tough front. That was how you got through life: by being the toughest asshole in the room, and ripping every other asshole to pieces.

“Now step off, dickhead. You’re not from round here, so no one will give a shit if you end up with a few missing teeth too. This bar belongs to the Hellcats, and we don’t take kindly to weird shits like you checking out our rides.”

“And you speak for these Hellcats?” the stranger asked.

He folded his arms, stepped forward. He was almost ready to throw down with this stranger, though not quite yet. Better to make him sweat first.

“I’m their goddamned fucking leader, asswipe,” he said. “And I’m about to show you why, if you don’t step off.”

The strange man regarded him curiously. “So you are the toughest? The most powerful? But then why a spider?”

He grinned meanly. “Because a spider can take down something way taller than it, you get me?”

He looked up at the Stranger meaningfully. In this, the Stranger seemed to find some amusement. “Yes, yes that is true. But that is only a moniker. How would you like to be a spider in truth? A particularly powerful one?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If you’re on drugs right now, know that it won’t save you, big boy. I’ve taken harder drugs and known who to mess with and who not to.”

He threw a fist at the Stranger. The man was tall, his limbs too gangly, but somehow despite Spider’s speed and ferocity the other man caught the fist easily, holding it in place as if it had all the force and power of a three year old girl’s punch. But Spider was quick, and proceeded to throw a second punch. That too was caught easily, and before he could use his full body weight to slam into the Stranger, the mysterious figure pulled him closer so that his eyes were right above Spider’s won, staring deeply into him.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice ever more ethereal. “I have given you an offer, Angus Dalton, the Spider. Look into my eyes and decide if you wish to possess it.”

Angus was totally off guard. He’d never been so immediately overpowered or embarrassed. He struggled for a moment, screaming invectives and taunts to this odd individual, but not too loudly: the bar scene was not greatly active at midday, but there were enough members of the Hellcats inside that he didn’t want any of them to see him in this shameful position. And besides, there was something about the Stranger’s eyes. Something hypnotic and terrible.

Something that was drawing him in.

“What - what the fuck is wrong with your eyes, man?” he said, his voice now more croak than rasp.

“Look, and see what I offer you, Angus Dalton.”

“How do you know my na-”

“I am an ancient being of change and chaos. Already, I have transformed others of this quaint little town. Soon I shall pass through, and your opportunity lost. Look, and make your decision.”

Angus looked, no longer feeling like the spider but a much smaller, much more prey-like insect instead. And in those constellation-like eyes he saw the power that this Stranger radiated, the power to change his very essence. He could sense that power, the very nature of the spider itself. It was raw and wild, powerful yet organised, fierce and predatory. It waited for its enemies, ambushed and devoured them and always grew stronger. Creatures wisely feared it, even those that were much larger. It was at the centre of its web, and always knew where its enemies lurked, and where it should strike. It was everything Angus styled himself as when he demanded others call him Spider. He wasn’t sure what the Stranger was, or what was truly going on, but he was smart enough - even after a life of law-breaking and violence and drinking and drugs - to know that he was being offered something unique. Something he craved.

“Give it to me,” he demanded. “Now.”

“You are certain?” the Stranger asked, his eyes unnaturally wide, twinkling like galaxies were contained within them.

“I’m goddamned certain. Whoever or whatever you are, give me that power. It’s mine.”

He could barely look away, so deep was he drawn in to the power he was being shown. It was only when the Stranger pulled back and smirked slightly that he managed to break contact. His heart was racing from the encounter.

“Very well,” the Stranger said. “The power of the spider will be yours, Angus Dalton. Then you can truly be called Spider and leader of your group, though their name will have to change, no doubt, once they see you. No ‘cats’ with such an arachnid in control.”

Angus’ eyes refocused, and to his surprise and confusion the mysterious stranger was holding a thin strand of web in between his thumb and forefinger. From its end dangled a dark spider, one that pulsed with power, as if it were not truly of this world. He lowered the spider gingerly onto Angus’ palm, whereupon it scuttled onto him. He was mesmerised by it, awaiting what gift it would bring him. Like many bikers, he was somewhat superstitious, and being a country man as well his own anticipation was heightened. This was what legends spoke of; the leaders of men being chosen by some great spirit of the land, to be the true alpha, to ride mighty and proud across the plains. Spider always did have a big ego, but now it was positively swelling at the anticipation of what was to come.

The spider on Spider sank its fangs into him, injecting him with its transformative venom. He winced, closed his eyes, grinned. Whatever ritual this was, was it any different from taking the right cocktail of drugs to feel stronger, more unrestrained?

The venom did its work quickly. It coursed through his veins, causing him to tremble.

“NNghh,” he grunted. “Yesss. I can f-feel it. I can feel it. You’re on the fucking level, man. You’re on the fucking level! All that power, and the Hellcats will be more than just some ass backwards gang. We’ll go big leagues. We’ll be terrifying.”

“You will, in a manner,” the Stranger said. “And beautiful too. Elegant.”

Spider frowned. “I don’t care for that kind of shit.”

“You wish to be bigger, of course.”

“Oh yeah, even b-bigger. Ahh . . . this is powerful stuff.”

His arm muscles tensed. His stomach clenched, muscles stretching there too.

“The most powerful kind of spider.”

“Damn fucking straight, stranger. Damn fucking straight. Jesus, wh-what was in that spider. Those things you showed me, I agreed - why the fuck did I agree to this? What did you do to me? Hypnotise me?”

He pulled back from the Stranger, the odd spell over him having dissipated. Instead he was now hit with confusion and anger. But it was too late to vent it upon the Stranger, because his own body was beginning to shift and change from the venom now coursing through his system. It was betraying him, altering his flesh in alarming and frightening ways that left him squirming for relief.

“Ohhhh, f-fuck! What the f-fuck! Get this shit out of me or I’ll - NGHHH!!!”

His arms shrank down, not gaining but losing muscle, and in the process becoming much more slender and fine. They lost their thick coating of manly hair, and the same was soon true of his chest. His gut sucked in, years of drinking beer melting away. His drum-like belly shrank and shrank, organs deflating, and something new forming below his intestines that made him moan in a strange and unwelcome ecstasy.

“F-fuck you! I’ll kill you! I’ll - AHH!!”

He yelled almost loud enough to alert others to the bad, and in fact some heads were starting to turn towards the bar entrance. He tried to call out for help, shame be damned, but his voice fled him as his Adam’s apple pressed back into his throat. He gasped, trying to control his breathing, even his upper body slimmed ever further. His shirt reformed to fit his new body, but to his terror and humiliation, it was not reforming into a tighter shirt, but changing material entirely to become metal, with a padded interior. It shrunk, gathering around his chest where two pressures were blooming intensely.

“You fucker! Stop this right now or I’ll slit your throat! I’m telling you to - what the hell are you doing to my s-skin!? Goddamn it, it feels weird. Fucking put a stop to it!”

His skin was darkening rapidly, but not turning brown as if tanned by the sun or of African origin. No, it was turning a dark grey, almost black in fact. His hair grew out longer, sliding down his back to become a wild mane. It turned snow white with an almost silvery quality to it. His beard fell off, leaving his chin smooth, and also serving as a catalyst for further facial changes. His broad, scarred face shrank and thinned and softened, his gasps and grunts turning to soft moans that sounded almost pornographic in their femininity. At this point it was impossible for the crew inside to ignore him; his fellow bearded Hellcats poured out of the bar only to surround the transforming man in a flurry of confusion.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Jesus Christ, some freakshow!”

“Wait, that’s Spider! Or at least it was!”

“Holy shit, he’s losing his beard, and turning into a woman. What the fuck are you doing to him!”

The Stranger was completely unconcerned; the men couldn’t touch him. Spider pointed out at the mysterious being. “It’s h-him! Get him! K-kill before I ch-change any more you b-bloody fools!”

But they didn’t take a step. They simply couldn’t. Already the Stranger was fixing them with a level gaze that kept them rooted to the spot.

“Your friends will bear witness to you gaining the spider’s power,” he simply said in his empty way.

“I didn’t ask to b-become a fucking woman!” Spider cried, his voice now a sexy low contralto. His chest was beginning to expand, and it was obvious that his top was becoming a scandalous bikini armour of some kind, a metal brassiere that only covered part of his upper torso. As his shoulders reduced in size and his waist pulled in, it was only a matter of time before breasts developed.

“Ah, but you wanted the great power of a spider, I thought?” the Stranger asked. “And female spiders are generally larger, stronger, and more powerful and feared than male spiders. By far, in fact.”

“You asshole! You f-fucking - OHHHh God! End it, n-nowwww! Mhmmm!!!”

Spider couldn’t help but thrust out his chest as it expanded, two large breasts surging forth to fill the quite generous cups of his bikini armour. His leather jacket become much shorter, hanging only to his midriff and pulling open, its sleeves short, its shoulder pads having metal spikes. His skin all over darkened further, and though he could not see it, his eyes became red, devoid of pupils. He blinked, and suddenly his vision shifted.

“Four eyes. FOUR EYES!?”

“No, eight. Spider, remember?”

He blinked again, and the vision shifted once more. His ‘main’ eyes remained, but now he had six smaller ones dotting them in a loose semicircle of three on each side, closer to his temples. They only gave him a more accurate view of his massive chest. His bosom was huge, each tit easily the size of his own head, and barely contained by his armoured brassiere. They outlined impressively against his reduced leather jacket, making it impossible to ever zip it up, or even start zipping it up. The cleavage produced by the bra was immense, leaving the impression that he was smuggling large, dark grey watermelons. They were pert and full and heavy, the kind of tits he loved to squeeze when he visited the strip club, only these were somehow all natural, no silicone whatsoever, and they were now his.

“Holy shit, the boss has tits!”

“Big ones!”

“We gotta help him! We gotta kill that fucker!”

Spider sneered. “Well, hurry up, ya bastards!”

But not one moved, still transfixed by the magical transformation, and the Stranger’s dark stare. “You are right,” he said. “We had best hurry up. Spider here wanted the greater power of his namesake. So he shall gain the power of the drider. The female drider, most of all.”

With that, Spider cringed and whined and squirmed as his fat manhood retracted. He clawed at it, trying to prevent it from going back into his body, but it was a useless thing to attempt. His balls followed, plopping back into his body in a tight squeeze. A feminine tunnel was left behind, and as it formed his hips widened with supreme generousness to almost unnatural proportions.

“F-f-f-fuuuuuuuck! Shit! Ohhhhhhh!!!”

It was too much for Spider, whose upper body was now like something out of a fantasy nerd’s wet dream. To make the point clearer, his ears became slightly pointed, while he developed cute little fangs filled with venom on his upper and lower jaw. His lips turned glossy black, plumping up into a sensual half-pout. He - now undeniably a she in looks and biology, was yet to even experience her most dramatic change though, for at that very moment her lower half was hit by a series of intense pressures. It was like nothing else he’d actively felt. It was like he was being pumped full of fat and muscle. No, like he was being fucked full of it.

Spider managed to stagger forth, his legs slightly freed for a moment. He grasped his bike by the handles, facing its front. He couldn’t help himself; he began to grin his body against his, gyrating his widening hips even as his dark jeans and underwear melted away entirely, leaving him naked from the waist down. His new pussy was already becoming slick with pleasure, wet with arousal. His wild mane of white hair shook and his heavy breasts trembled as he moaned.

“Stop this! I’m f-fucking telling you! Stop m-making me so goddamned turned on you f-fucking freak! OHhhhh - aghhh - nnghh - mmmhmm!!!!”

The dam broke. The pressure gave way. His lower half began to bloat rapidly, and the changes all came at once in a highly dramatic fashion that not even he could have anticipated, despite everything else. His ass expanded, closing over and segmenting so that it became like a great balloon that continued to round out. He nearly stumbled backward, but two additional legs speared out from his growing lower half, and then another pair, and then another. They were giant spider’s legs, complete with sharp points at the end. They were hairless and as soft as his female skin, but undeniably arachnid in nature, and all under his control.

“What the fuck!? What the FUCK!? TAKE THEM AWAY!”

But they didn’t go away. They lifted him up so that he was borne upon eight legs, his ordinary human pair also reconfiguring in this way. His bulbous backside grew ever larger until it was practically the size of a small fridge, only much more rounded and fleshy. It tapered only at the very end to a slight point, where a seeping opening had formed, one that Spider writhed with unwanted pleasure in response to. He was no idiot: it was a second opening. A vagina and depositor both, capable of producing webs . . . and maybe even eggs. His legs automatically widened their stance, but still he nearly tipped over again. His new arachnid abdomen was proud and heavy, smooth and round, and full of new organs that he could not fathom and did not want to. His lower half was even darker than his upper. Where his womanly torso and face were a dark, dark grey, his arachnid half - her arachnid half - was black as midnight, with an almost oily gloss to it.

“What the hell have you done to me?” she stammered in an almost purring tone. The new female half-spider had no ability to recognise it yet, but her contralto voice was deeply sensual. Her crew looked on in shock, many of them surprised to be turned on by the sight.

“Spider is a damn spider!”

“A fucking female one! Huge tits and all!”

“Christ, she’s even got a big spider ass!”

“Shut it!” she yelled, trying and failing to cover her immense tits. She scuttled backwards without intending to, causing a bike to topple over.

“Congratulations,” the Stranger said in his flat monotone, though there was perhaps a small hint of enjoyment in it, “you now have the power of the spider, Spider. To answer your question, I have turned you into a drider; a creature that is half man, and half spider. Or in your case, since you wanted the greater power of a spider, a half woman, half spider. From now on, no one will avoid calling you spider ever again.”

“I didn’t want this, you crazy bastard!” she whined back, gesturing at her massive backside. It swung about, nearly knocking over a Hellcat. She was certainly not used to the large growth or how it shifted and bobbed behind her. “How the fuck can I live like this? How can I lead a bike gang like this?”

The Stranger considered this. “You are right. You will need more appropriate members of your bikie gang. Allow me.”

With that, the others began to writhe and groan and change, also caught in the Stranger’s transformative gaze. Their skin turned dark grey just like hers, and they each gripped their faces as their eyes turned red also. A few grew extra eyes, and a couple even extra arms or a second pair of legs. One even developed a bulbous arachnid abdomen. In mere moments the large drider queen was surrounded by smaller male members. They had literally shrunk too, though they had maintained their maleness: they were not as bulky, and much of their hair had dissipated but for the now-white hair on their scalps.

“There we are,” the Stranger said with some satisfaction. “Now you have an appropriately spider-themed gang. I’m sure they’ll need to modify their bikes to suit their new forms, and you most of all, Spider. But in time you will adapt, and you can be the new Hellspider gang on the open road.”

“You’ve g-got to be kidding me,” she said. She gestured to herself again. “I can’t stay like this! I’m not just talking about the tits and stuff either, I’m a goddamn freak!”

“Ah, not to worry there. I have ensured this town will have more than few ‘freaks’ in it by the time I’m done passing through. And don’t worry about your leadership too; male spiders are often very submissive to their larger female counterparts. You won’t need to eat them, but they will maintain you as their leader, and fulfil your new bodily needs. Remember, you can now lay your own future bikie gang members, so be careful, Spider Drider.”

The Stranger shifted Spider’s bike, and turned it on despite having no key. It revved dramatically.

“I doubt you’ll need this one. Consider it a token from you to me as thanks. Best of luck with your new form, Spider. I’m sure you’ll come to see it as quite . . . how would you put it in human terms? Badass. Yes, that sounds appropriate. Enjoy.”

He revved the engine and took off at a slow but steady pace, leaving Spider in his now gorgeous monster girl form. She was much taller in height thanks to her lower drider half, perhaps six-foot-five or so. Towering over her fellow ‘Hellspider’ members, she could see how they had a lustful gaze in their reddened eyes. And she too felt her pussy - both of her pussies - drip with an equal arousal. She had power over her crew in a way she could never have imagined, but it had come at an immense cost.

“Fuck, you look goddamn hot, boss.”
“Yeah, your big fat ass looks so good right now for some reason!”

“I want to fucking breed you!”

“Ohhhhhhh,” she moaned. “I didn’t w-want this!”

But her body did, and it shot forth a sticky web upon the ground in premature excitement.

“I’m gonna kill that fucking stranger!” she cried. “I’ll build a goddamn motorbike that can fit me just so I can track him down! I swear!”

It would have to wait though, because the new spider queen now had a bevy of male subjects to please, and be pleased by in turn. Without even intending too, she leaned her upper half over to show off her impressive grey-skinned cleavage, her white hair tipping over her left shoulder sensuously. Her legs shifted so that her bulbous backside was presented in profile, looking full and fertile to her underlings.

“Fuck,” she said, and it was as much a command as a curse.

She vowed revenge on the Stranger, and to become a badass spider drider biker chick if need be to do so. That would come later though, because in that moment, she was as much predator as she was prey.

To Be Continued . . .