The Dominion of the Spider Queen

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Jasmine Starr strapped her magneto-rapier to the curve of her red thong and glanced from where she stood in the royal armory to “Prince Fireth” – with her binder on and her male guise once more assumed, it was nearly impossible to see that the Princess Snow was, in fact, the sister of the long dead Prince Fireth rather than the Prince himself. She cut a dashing and masculine figure, her hair cut short, her bearing screaming to the world of her confidence and proud maleness – accentuated by a kind of internal codpiece that she slid on beneath her leggings. That was more than enough to make every female servant in the palace swoon at the sight of her, but Jasmine did wonder at it: Did Snow enjoy her pretense as being a male, or did she chafe at it? Did she yern to once more wear dresses – or, foregoing that, to simply be a tomboy?

For Jasmine knew well that distinction between being a woman who was interested in mannish things and being a male where it counted. During her time with the heroic and cunning Office of Strategic Services, she had been a part of many underground resistance movements battling against the hellish hosts of Hitler and his jackbooted Gestapo secret policemen and those movements had been made up of the many people seen as nothing but cockroaches beneath Nazi tyranny, including many men and women who had done no crime at all save love women or men rather than men and women, or to dress in clothing the Third Reich had deemed inappropriate for one of their so called “gender.”

Jasmine shook her head, wondering at what small minded fools like the absurd Austrian – and the abominable American Bund that had shared his vicious ideas – would think, to learn of all the many space genders that were exhibited throughout the solar system ... but for now, she let such pondering aside as she turned full on to face Snow.

“Will we need Diamond Suits?”

“Not if we’re lucky,” Snow said, her voice pitched deliberately lower. “And if we’re unlucky enough to need them, then the Maze will have already killed us.”

“What is this Maze?” Jasmine asked. “How did it come to be?”

Snow sighed, then growled. “It came about because of the damned Hawkmen and the failure of the Terraforming Project. The goal was simple, we would bleed away the atmosphere above, reducing the pressures of Venus until we could stand upon the surface without being crushed or boiled. But to do so, we would need many Terraforming Machines, and those machines would need constant supplies of materials. Delivering those materials above ground was impossible ... so, we constructed vast underground networks of tunnels and subway systems.”

“Ah, like the London Metro system, writ large across the planet,” Jasmine said. “Or the railroads of America.”

“Yes, precisely,” Snow said. “Though we use significantly more advanced space trains ... or ... we did, a thousand years ago. But with the Project abandoned for war, the tunnels were left to molder. A thousand years of geological activity has collapsed many tunnels, and many of our magneto-memory tape books have been lost, or been corrupted. We know only a fraction of the tunnels. Worse ... are the Morlocks.”

“The Morlocks?” Jasmine’s eyebrow shot straight up. “As in from H.G Well’s seminal classic, the Time Machine, recently released as an award winning radio play by the renowned and respected Columbia Broadcast Services?”

“The very same,” Snow said, chuckling much as a Prince should, rubbing her chin as she did so – the two of them emerged from the armory and past a trio of waiting Faewomen servants, one of which tottered visibly as she saw the formidable figure that Snow cut with her magneto-rapier at her hip, and had to be caught by her comrades before she slumped to the tunnel floor. “We took the name from the drama – but they are a byproduct of a native fungus that we could have eradicated, had the Hawkmen not betrayed us and ended the project. They grow within unfortunate miners and drive them to madness, and they rush into the tunnels if not stopped. This population has grown and bred ... Faemen and Faewomen, born with the fungus within their minds! If they come upon non-infected Faemen, they attack them, try to subdue them, to infect them as well.”

“How hideous,” Jasmine whispered.

The two strode through the castle and came out into the vast city of the Faemen. There, they were met by several guards and the Spider Queen herself, who looked grave despite the fact she had given permission for this. She reached out, cupping her “son” upon her cheek, then said: “Please, do take care of my dearest Fireth.” She looked at Jasmine, then smiled, ever so slightly. “And yourself, now that I think about it.”

“My lady, I will do just that,” Jasmine said, taking her hand and decorously kissing her knuckles – so that all around her would think she nothing but a gallant Earth woman, offering the respects due to Queen Evillia Spiderna of the Faemen ... but those that were aware of the events that had transpired in the previous space night would have no choice but to remember every vigorous scream of orgasmic bliss that Jasmine had wrung from the Spider Queen using tongue, fingers, and space strap-on. Both Evie (as Jasmine still enjoyed thinking of her as) and Snow were thinking about it, as Snow scowled at Jasmine and Evie giggled and murmured, under her breath.

“Oh you!”

“Now, where is the entrance to the Maze of Madness?” Jasmine asked.

“This is Lancer,” Evie said, gesturing to one of the guards – a strapping, dreadlocked Faeman with a wide face, long ears, and a huge smile. He inclined his head. “He is one of the finest Rocket Rangers we have. His rocket-cycles will take you to the entrance.”

“A pleasure, Miss Starr,” he said, his voice a warm, high tenor despite his burly size. He was dressed in a chromed breastplate designed to reflect away death rays, while his arms and legs were wrapped in rubberized, protective material for the surface of Venus. His weapons were a rocket-bolt pistol, slung from his hip, and what appeared to be the primary weapon of the Rocket Rangers, slung over his shoulder and hanging from a strap – a weapon that caused Jasmine to ooh softly.

“Please, Ranger Lancer, my mother was Miss Starr. You can call me Jasmine,” Jasmine said, chuckling. “Now ... what is this?” She gestured.

“This? Oh, it’s just my Hell Lance,” Lancer said, slapping the strap that held the long thin metal pole to his back. The weapon looked a great deal like a normal jousting tool from Earth’s bygone days of tournaments and kings and queens – but this lethal looking lance was tipped not with a blunted tip nor even a sharpened blade, but rather a bulbous cylinder that came to a tapered narrow point, painted a bright red that glinted in the Faeman City’s dull illumination! “Back before the War was mostly in space, we Rocket Rangers would face off against the Hawkmen and their armored zeppelins. This was the best way to send them into the clouds!”

“How does it work?” Jasmine asked, while Snow coughed and tugged on her arm, clearly trying to get them moving again. Jasmine allowed herself to be tugged, but kept her eyes on the strapping Lancer, who chuckled warmly.

“Simple! The lance’s tip is a one time use Void Burst Inferno Warhead – by having an air filled cavity within the warhead, it is able to focus the heat into an armor piercing blast that can cut through even thick, layered space steel,” he said. “Our forefathers would ride our rocket-cycles in on their blind side and strike them in the weak points, then race away as they crashed.” He sighed. “But in these days, all the fighting is in space and orbit, so we Rocket Rangers merely use our Hell Lances for ceremonial duties.” He shook his head. “A shame.”

Jasmine chucked. “Well, Lancer, I’m sure we’ll find some way for you to put your lance to work.”

“Oh will you now,” Lancer purred.

Snow glared at both of them.

They came to the stables, where a rocket-cycle was already set out and ready, the engine rumbling softly as the other Rangers attached a passenger seat for Snow. “The Prince and you can-” Lancer started, but Jasmine swung herself onto the back of the cycle, spreading her legs as she leaned back and smiled at him.

“I believe among the Earth ground-cycle gangs of my world, this is what they refer to as ... riding bitch?” Jasmine fluttered her eyebrows at Lancer, who gave her an even larger smile.

“They use quite a similar term here,” Lancer said, mounting up ahead of her, sliding and settling in so that she could lean against his broad back, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade as she felt his warmth. “But here, it is called riding space bitch.”

“Ah,” Jasmine murmured, looking past his shoulder at Snow, who was looking completely exasperated. “Come on, Prince – lets mount up. We’ll need to ride hard to make sure we can penetrate the Maze of Madness in time. Though, I’m sure we can dally a little ... Lance here does seem to know when to pull out-”

“Just stop!” Snow exploded.

She swung into the passenger car and the rocket-cycle roared to life, then streaked off as the back flames bust out. The ground effect features kicked on, then sent them shooting up and above the city, soaring higher than Jasmine expected. She clung to Lancer, not merely for the pleasure of his masculine body but also to keep herself firmly rooted. The Rocket Ranger, though, flew as if he had not a care in the world, and within a few short minutes, they had landed at the outskirts of the underground city, the rocket-cycle clattering and hissing to a stop, the back engine whirring to a stop as Jasmine saw that they had landed before a vast, open tunnel, protected by several low turreted towers and a curved wall. The wall had what appeared to be heavy duty rocket bolt machine guns mounted at various points and were manned by stern, ready Rocket Rangers.

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Jasmine asked, sliding off the back of the rocket-cycle. “We could always use another strong arm.”

“No,” Snow snapped. “The less people in the Maze the better – a smaller party is less likely to draw the notice of Morlocks. Two may be ignored where three or four would be set on and captured to expand the hive. Besides ... Rocket Rangers don’t like to fight on foot.”

“We fight wherever we need fight,” Lancer said, sounding affronted. “I can use my sword and pistol just as well, even if I’d hate to leave behind my lance-”

“Yes, but I am the Prince Fireth and I say you will remain!” Snow snapped, stepping away from the cycle, towards the gate of the wall leading to the tunnel. Jasmine sighed, then called after her.

“I shall join you once I have ensured my pack is reasonably well stored,” she said, then slung free. Snow huffed, and then kept walking. Lancer shook his head slowly, his voice softened so that only Jasmine could hear her.

“I swear that the Prince hides something from his subjec-” he froze as Jasmine, her fingers finding the zipper of his leggings, worked said zipper down as she slid from the back of the rocket to the side pod, so that she might be at the right ... elevation for her work. “Miss Star!”

“Shh,” Jasmine murmured. “I need something to fortify me before entering that great dark...” She took hold of his cock as it sprang free – immense and thick around enough that her thumb could not touch her palm as she gripped his base. Her nose flared, breathing in the rich, dark scent of him as his ebony black cock seemed to shine before her eyes. Lancer bit his lip, while a few Rocket Rangers glanced over – then glanced again, double taking in surprise. Jasmine closed her mouth around the thick glans of his cock, her tongue swirling along his foreskin, and moaning in pleasure as she tasted his warm, salty pre-cum ... glowing along her tongue, it tingled as she licked him inside of her mouth, her eyes looking up to watch the delightful expression on his African features as the Faeman Rocket Ranger leaned back upon the saddle of his rocket-cycle.

Jasmine popped her lips free, pumping her hand up and down his length. “Mmm, Faemen cock tastes quite delicious, you know?” She grinned. “I’ve never enjoyed being on my knees more than in space.” Her mouth closed around the tip of his cock, and then she pushed forward, enjoying the difficulty of getting her lips to meet her knuckles as her hand rotated around the midsection of the Rocket Ranger’s cock. One of Lancer’s hands gripped her dark hair as he let a groan out between his teeth.

“J-Jasmine!” he gasped. “I ... normally ... I have to save a maiden’s life for this.” Jasmine bobbed her head as he spoke, wringing groans and moans out between every word. “And it’s ... ah ... fuck, it’s never this, nnhhh, good!”

Jasmine pulled back with a soft pop and grinned up at him, her hand moving faster and faster now, stroking his member as she looked up into his eyes. “Well, I am no maiden,” she purred, then whispered. “Do you want to cum on my face or in my mouth, dear Lancer?”

Lancer gasped, then shuddered, his hands tightening on the seat of his rocket-cycle – the leather creaking ominously as his impressive strength got to work. He looked as if he was trying every trick in his mental and physical handbook to prevent himself from climaxing then and there ... and it was still not enough to keep his glowing arousal from dripping along her knuckles, catching under her palm – so that every pumping motion of her hand spread glittering star motes along his big black cock. Her nose flared, breathing in his excited musk ... and she watched his face as he whispered: “By ... the Spider Goddess’s eight arms! You ... ah! Fuck, you may as well ask me to choose between the moon or the sun!”

“Venus has no moon,” Jasmine purred.

“Then I must cum in your throat!” Lancer groaned and stood at the same time. Jasmine let out a happy grunt as he took hold of her head and thrust his entire girth into her mouth. She relaxed her throat, her tongue pressed against the base of his member, her eyes filled with eager lustfulness as she peered up his muscular body to his face and reveled in the intense, masculine grimace of bliss that filled his features as his hips met her face, his thatch of bright silver, curly pubic hair tickling her nose as his heavy, black balls bounced against her chin. His cock filled her throat to the limit and his balls twitched against her, and ... Jasmine could feel the throb of his heart beat and the gentle pulse of his cum as he painted the inside of her belly with it. His hips twitched and he bucked a few more times, actively fucking her face ... the pleasure was dizzying and Jasmine nearly came from that alone...

Her nose whuffed and she could not breathe – and the burn of that only heightened her bliss. Her eyes went out of focus as Lancer groaned, then slowly slowly drew his slippery, cumslickened cock from her lips. Jasmine coughed, then gasped, and then panted heavily, her head swimming as Lancer sagged back against the side of his rocket-cycle.

“By the Spider Goddess...” Lancer gasped heavily. “If every woman could service a lance like that, then we’d never need an armorer again!” He wiped at his brow, looking completely done in as Jasmine smacked her lips, licked them, then stood with a smile.

“Was I good?” she crooned. Lancer’s expression shifted and he chuckled, then shook his head.

“And yet ... why is it that I feel as if I were the one that gave you what you wanted?” He murmured. “Usually, I expect most men do not feel used when they are given a blowjob like that.” He laughed as Jasmine tapped the tip of his broad nose.

“Thank you very much,” she purred, then turned and hopped from the rocket-cylce’s passenger car. Lancer watched her go to where the “Prince Fireth” was waiting, and shook his head slowly. Another Rocket Ranger came to his side, his arms crossed over his own chromed breastplate.

“Are all Earth Women like that?” he asked.

“If they are,” Lancer said. “Then I can understand why the Emperor is so eager to conquer that world – atom bombs or no. But no, my good and true comrade Bow. I believe, in my heart of hearts, that Jasmine Starr is alone among the solar system...” He rubbed his jaw.

Bow nodded.

“Want to head to the bunk and spitroast my girlfriend?” he asked.

“Oh absolutely,” Lancer said, springing to his feet. He wobbled. “After I drink some water.”

Once they were around the third bend within the first tunnel of the Maze of Madness, Snow lifted her hand and called a halt.

“Why are we-” Jasmine started, but then blinked as Snow lifted her shirt up, tossing it aside, revealing the thin white binders wrapped about her chest.

“I am not wearing these for one second longer!” Snow exclaimed. She tugged the binders free and sighed as her modest breasts bounced free in the slightly chilly, damp air of the maze tunnel. They were lit only by the small light source that Snow had brought with her - floating orb of white metal that shone with a pale illumination, showing the smooth black stone walls of the maze tunnel and the unused, rusted tracks of the space train that had once run through it. Snow shivered, then reached into her pants. She fished forth the packing material she had used to make herself seem as if she had a male bulge, then threw it to the ground, then leaned against the wall, her eyes closed. “Goddess that feels good.”

“So, I take it the disguise is wearing on you?” Jasmine asked, admiring the way that Snow’s arms shelved her breasts as she crossed them under her tits.

“It ... it’s not so bad,” Snow said, lying obviously.

“You miss being a woman,” Jasmine said, nodding. “I understand it. I imagine, were your brother alive and you were dead – and he were forced to pretend to be you, he would be just as miserable.”

“I...” Snow shook her head. “I shouldn’t be such a complainer...”

“It’s no sin to want to be seen as what you are,” Jasmine said, chuckling softly. “If you wished to be male, then male you could be. If you wish to be female, then female you should be allowed to be as well. The only crime is that you are forced to conceal your true self.” She stepped close, placing her hand on Snow’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Snow. Around me, you can always be honest.” She smiled.

Snow flushed, looked aside, then slapped away Jasmine’s hand. “Y-Yes, well. I still don’t like you.”

“Oh, just because of me and your mother’s ... relationship?” Jasmine purred, while Snow tugged her top back on – with the binders gone and the packer gone, she still looked rather boyish, but a second glance would easily reveal that she was more accurately described as tomboyish. She shook her head and started to walk forward – heading confidently through the tunnel.

“Relationship!” Snow scoffed. “Is that a word for when you ... you...”

“Fuck her?” Jasmine grinned.

Snow huffed. “Must you always be so crude?”

“I did try and be more circumspect with Lance, and that irritated you just as much,” Jasmine said, laughing quietly as she strode to keep up with Snow.

“Circumspect meaning you sucked his ... him off in public?” Snow snapped.

“I’ve never met anyone in space as prudish as you are,” Jasmine said, shaking her head.

“I’m not prudish!” Snow snapped. “It’s just ... do you know how frustrating it is to be in a society that is at the height of its sexual sophistication, far in advance of the Earth society of which you are familiar ... and to be trapped in a guise and form that utterly repels you? The idea of having sex as a man is ... ugh.” She shuddered. “It makes me shudder...”

Jasmine nodded. “You find yourself too repelled by your own disguise to ever feel your own arousal...” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. That sounds like an unpleasent way to live.”

Snow chuckled, softly, shaking her head. “There are many who have to live worse ... I am still a Prince. Even if I long to be a Princess.” She blushed. “Though, I only want to wear ... sensible gowns.” She paused. “And a little bit of jewelry. Not a lot.” She rubbed her hand against her neck. “And maybe a few rings. Perhaps some presented to me by a handsome man.”

Jasmine patted her back. “We’ll have you in skirts in no time, Snow.”

Snow stiffened ... then relaxed, slightly. She did not, this time, slap Jasmine’s hand away. Instead, she looked to her. “And then you will be seeing about getting me out of them, then?” She asked, dryly. “I’ll have you know, just as I am no man, I have no interest in women.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jasmine crooned.

“Oh you!” Snow snarled.

Jasmine laughed. “Come now – you’ve never been wooed by a woman as a woman. I can assure you, being sapphic means something different when it is between women.” She rubbed her chin, slightly. “I think even your space sex would admit that being sapphic has more to do with women than with men, even if it is in relation to how how little you wish to be with them, eh?”

The came into a large opening in the tunnel – a junction point where an ancient industrial engine had been long left abandoned. The globe that floated beside them brightened more, revealing more of the chamber, and there were no less than three exits out of the place, each one looking darker and more ominous than the last. Snow ignored all three to turn to face Jasmine, frowning. “You cannot accept that someone might just be not into you,” she said, quietly. “Is that it?”

Jasmine spread her hands. “I will admit ... the fact I once seduced a gay man away from his boyfriend while in a skirt.” She chuckled. “Admittedly, I was using a boy’s name at the time...”

“You homewrecker!”

“Don’t get too upset, they were in the SS,” Jasmine said, her lip curling in disdain. “Using their position to protect themselves, while harming thousands of others. They’re lucky that’s the worst I did to them. Now! Which tunnel do we take, Snow?”

Snow frowned and turned to gaze at the tunnels. “Not that one,” she said, pointing at the leftmost one. “That tunnel has cracks in the ceiling – it means that there’s going to be a collapse in the midsection, somewhere. That one and that one ... both may work well. Let me check my radio gun.” She pulled from her belt a small device that Jasmine had assumed was a death ray pistol ... but instead, Snow pulled forth a heavy set of ear-mufflers which plugged into the handle of the radio gun. She put the muffs onto her ears, then aimed the gun, triggering. “The center tunnel cants eastward...” She considered. “That seems most likely.”

She started forward and Jasmine followed after. “What other fun tools do you have in that pack of yours?”

“Extensible pole for measuring and testing,” Snow said, shrugging. “Fifty space feet of silken rope.”

“How naughty,” Jasmine crooned. “I’ll have to know I learned the arts of shibari on the Home Islands of Japan.”

“Starr!” Snow snapped and Jasmine laughed.

“You know, I would stop doing it if it stopped being so easy to rile you-” Jasmine held her hand up, frowning. “Hold. Do you hear that?”

The two waited, listening. Snow’s pointed ears lifted and she narrowed her eyes, then gestured to her globe, hissing softly. “Attend!” At the word and gesture, the globe dimmed and dimmed some more. “Quickly, put on this heat ray amplification helm!”

A helmet, swung from her pack, pressed against Jasmine’s chest. She slung it over her face, but saw nothing. “I don’t see-”

“Swing the cover down, foolish Earthling!” Snow hissed and Jasmine found that a curved shield – like the blast covering of a welder’s mask – was mounted to the helmet. She swung it down and, quite suddenly, she could see Snow in the darkness, glowing brilliantly in strange, unnatural colors of red, blue and white – indicating different temperatures, Jasmine realized. The helmet, somehow, was converting the sight of heat into the lights and colors that Jasmine could see! The surrounding terrain, too, she could navigate thanks to subtle differences in temperature and splotches of warmth from growing or rotting fungus blooms.

But what was clear as day were the three shapes at the end of the corridor, crouched low, their bulbous, distended heads peeking above the lip of a chunk of stone that had fallen from the ceiling in some bygone Venusquake. Quietly, Snow confirmed what Jasmine expected: “Morlocks.”

Jasmine frowned. “What do you suggest, Princess?”

“It depends – are they hunting for food, or are they scouts seeking for us?” Snow asked, her hand dropping to the haft of her rocket bolt pistol, loosening it in the straps. One of the Morlocks began to crawl from cover, moving with a hideouly deliberate style – crawling forward on hands and balls of the feet, hunched forward. In the eerie false light of the heat ray amplification helm’s sight, the actual shape of it was hard for Jasmine to determine, beyond it being clearly humanoid ... but the joints were all wrong, and the head looked as if it had been stretched. The face, too, had strange patches of hot and cold that reminded her disturbingly of corpses after rot had set in and mushroom spores had settled...

“One’s coming,” Jasmine said.

“Just one means it could be-” Snow started, but Jasmine heard the creak of movement behind her. She turned ... and saw four more blotches.

“They’re hunters!” Jasmine shouted, thumbing her magneto-rapier on to full length and power. As it hissed free, the four morlocks that had approached from behind let out a horrible rattling noise and began to rush forward ... and then the bolt-rocket gun roared three times, bucking in Snow’s double handed grips.

Jasmine, thus far, had had every reason to disdain the bolt rocket guns used by nearly every faction of warrior in space. Compared to the dependable bullets of her home world, they seemed much the weaker ... but thus far, she had engaged every enemy blade to blade, and had not seen what a well aimed bolt-rocket could do to enemies given time to accelerate when launched from the weapon! In a space of a second, the bolts had burned up their fuel, accelerating faster and faster with every second as the burning fuel made them lighter and lighter ... until, at the end of their transition, they were traveling far, far, far faster than sound!

They were each on par with a .50 caliber bullet, the kind used by the indomitable machine guns favored by the Allied power in the second World War, but rather than merely being a blunt tipped dense bullet designed to survive the explosion of a gunpowder blast, these bolt-rockets were tipped with razor sharp flechette blades that cut and sliced nearly as much as they punctured and pierced. The first took a Morlock in the chest, while the second and third took them in the head – and there was nothing left of those heads save an expanding cloud of mist and spores.

The four, though, that came at Jasmine Starr were not advancing without their own bloodletting. Jasmine held no normal blade, but rather, a magneto-rapier: A bimagnetic liquid, suspended in a rapidly rotating magnetic field, so that the edges were able to slice and burn at the same time from friction and movement! She held it in one hand, and the moved with the grace and striking speed of the two time Olympic gold medal winner that she was: The tip of her blade slashed open one Morlock from belly to chin and the hideously malformed creature fell to the ground, emptying its entire body unto the pavement. A grasping claw was wiped away, then the head with it, as Jasmine stepped away from the third’s leap and sliced it entirely in half across the midsection. She turned to face the last – only to see it already fleeing.

But Jasmine knew to look past the name of her weapon. The magneto-rapier was feared above all weapons for its mutability! And so she shifted her grip, twitched her finger on the control, and held the rapier up ... but the structure of it had changed from that of a rapier blade to that of the fearsome and much respected spear-throwing weapon, the Atlatl! The hilt that had once projected the rapier now served as the base, while the curved bimagnetic liquid that was the blade formed into the spear, and Jasmine hurled it in one smooth motion. The liquid flung forward and slammed into the back of the Morlock’s neck, exploding out beneath his chin. The Morlock made a hideous gurgling noise, then fell – and the metallic spear whipped back into the hilt, dragged back to Jasmine by the magnetic field projected by the magneto-rapier.