Lesbian Spider Drone

“This does not suit you.”

He grimaced at the sensation of his beard being rubbed against the grain, though he could hardly squirm when he was pinned down so firmly.

“And what does it matter to you?”

She didn’t answer, continuing to examine and prod at his face, her one paw more than easily cupping his jaw and holding it tight.

Could she feel his heartbeat accelerating? Hear how his breathing increased in pace despite his best efforts? She bared her teeth and snorted at him, hot breath rolling over his skin and tousling his hair. Oh yes, she could definitely feel it.

“You don’t even like it,” she mused, moving his chin back and forth as if to examine him more thoroughly.

A protest immediately jumped to his lips but a squeeze of her paw killed it before he could give it breath. Her scales were hot against his skin, the pressure against his face even and not uncomfortable. This was not how he had expected his evening to go at all.

“Why do you keep it?”

The question was direct, and as he tried to avert his eyes she brought his face back around so he could look nowhere else but into her own. Large, yellow, and practically glowing. She wasn’t going to accept a half-answer, was she?

“… It’s effort,” he said after a long pause, “It grows back so quickly and is always so visible, what would even be the point?”

Even if he stripped himself raw he could still feel each individual hair under his skin. It itched and often made a rash when it grew, as if to add insult to injury. Why bother?

The dragon let out a low growl, finally allowing him to break eye contact as she rotated his face again, searching for what he could not be at all certain.

“Are you satisfied? Will you let me go now?”

He could not stop the pleading note from entering his voice, nor entirely hide his desperation. Touch such as this was alien to him, it was wrong. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want to come to enjoy it.

He involuntarily shivered as she once again ran the side of a talon along his jaw, the keratin-smoothness giving an impression of just how sharp it could be. Her sustained rumbling was causing his chest to resonate, making it hard to control his breathing. How was she so warm? No. Stop. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

The dragon’s paw finally loosened its iron grip from his skull, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t remotely regret the lack of sensation, the rapidness with which his skin seemed to cool.

“No…” She finally murmured, “No, I won’t. I’m far too curious to see what you’d look like without it.”

He went slack-jawed, eyes wide.

“Pardon?” He spluttered, attempting to squirm out from under her, “No— I mean— You cannot be serious,”

He may as well have been speaking an entirely different language — she let him squirm only to allow herself to maneuver into a more comfortable position, then promptly pinned him even more thoroughly to the ground. His panicked breaths resolved into a strangled whine.

“Hold still,” she said with an authoritative air, bringing her snout so close her breath made his hair stand on end. He swore she was smiling, as much as a dragon could.

He wasn’t able to see it so much as feel it as the dragon’s tongue slid over his jaw and cheek. If her scales were warm then the tongue was burning hot, the trail of saliva feeling almost as if it should be steaming.

His controlled breathing was failing him, his lungs working into desperate gasps. His heart was in his throat. He could tell she was enjoying this.

Next came her talon, the sharp edge now pressed at an angle into his skin. She was the slightest twitch away from drawing blood.

With all the desperation of caught prey, he suddenly went very still, her instructions now clear.

Her saliva contained some sort of topical venom, he theorized. Something immediate and intoxicating. That was the only explanation for why her hum of approval made his head spin.

Her snout came even closer, talon still pressed into his skin, breath so close to his ear he could feel it dampen.

“Good girl,” she whispered.

He let out an involuntary prey animal moan.

Her own saliva was the only lubricant she needed. The knife-sharp edge inched across his skin, deliberately slow and terrifyingly smooth. She savored every single freed hair, her purring — and only then had he realized she’d been purring — increasing in strength as each one fell free.

In one smooth motion, she’d drawn one digit across from his chin to his ear, the sharp point resting against his lobe.

“A piercing would suit you, I think.”

She said it distractedly, offhandedly, as if her voice wasn’t making his brain bounce around in his skull.

Then she drew the talon back across the skin, a casual gesture. That same keratin-smoothness was uninterrupted by the awful spiny texture of his beard, further lubricated by her still-hot spit. Nobody could have blamed him for his strangled, pleading whimper.

“So much prettier this way, mm?”

He managed a quiet, whining “Nooo,” earning himself a disappointed huff.

“How about this, then?”

He should have seen it coming.

Her tongue drew across his skin, freshly smooth, but this time she flexed the spines embedded in the soft flesh, allowing him to feel them in full, beautiful detail.

Hundreds of little lines of simultaneous sensation, wet and hot and sharp and pleasurable—

She was deliberately slow, drowning him in the confirmation of the smoothness of his skin. How was it that she’d made him feel so soft? How had she known his secret shame so thoroughly?

“Perfect. Just perfect.”

Just as he felt he’d recovered from that onslaught, she grasped firmly at his jaw once again. A new line of burning saliva, though a single fork of her tongue made sure to tease the already cleansed skin.

He had lost all resistance by that point. The unsuppressed shiver that ran up and down his body delighted her, causing her to dig in her paw slightly stronger into his skin. He was putty in her hands.

Even verbal rebuttal was beyond him. Her talon was slow, efficient, and utterly merciless. His every exhale was a whine, his eyes scrunched tight to preserve himself. He lied silently that his face was only burning because of the dragonesses spit and the forced exfoliation, but he could not deny the unique sensation of shameful blushing that had consumed him. Humiliation blazed hotter in him than even the dragon’s own warmth.

She was no longer kind enough to stop after each pass finished, instead choosing to continue the onslaught of touch. She cooed in his ear about how good he was doing, holding so still when it was so clear that all he wanted to do was squirm in her grasp. As if he could move even if he wanted to risk it. Her talons effortlessly maneuvered around the hard bone of his jawline and his chin, over the soft flesh of his cheeks. Each pass of claw and tongue left him tingling and damp and so desperately needy.

The longer it took — and he’d lost track of time entirely — the less focused on the task she became. Her tongue began to explore beyond where his beard festered. Forked tips tickling his lower neck, razor sharp teeth teasing his skin.

He was pleading with her, but he couldn’t tell if he meant for her to stop or push harder, just repeating “Please, please,” over and over. It was almost a game, him asking only so that she could ignore him. She neither stopped nor fully committed, leaving him writhing and squirming with whatever limbs she hadn’t bothered to pin him with.

Slowly, glacially, her pace slackened. Rather than long, drawn out swipes she became far more deliberate, thoughtful. Targeted flicks of her tongue making him gasp. Clean up, he thought.

Finally, her grip around his jaw reasserted itself as she gave a distinct huff of approval. He was burning from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, the embarrassment so fiercely intense that he thought if he looked her in the eyes he might will himself to die.

“Now isn’t this just so much better?” She purred, squeezing and running her digits along his far smoother skin. He was so used to it feeling rough; even after his best attempts at shaving, it’d never felt like this. He wasn’t sure whether to cry or to scream.

With great effort, he calmed his breath enough to finally strangle out a question.

“Why?”

She squeezed with gentle pressure, as if he were a toy she played with in idle thought. It didn’t take much effort to force him to look her in the eye.

“As if you don’t know.”

The way he flushed to an even deeper shade of red was all the answer she needed — her laughter was a hissing, cooing noise, reverberating in his ribcage.

“Ah, so you do. How could you not, I suppose? You would know best of all how much your repressive need just sang. A single glance at you was all I needed to unmask you, lovely little thing that you are.”

He could barely hear her over the blood rushing in his ears, his breath rattling as he wheezed, desperately trying to shake his head in disagreement even as she held him fixed. Her paw moved in deliberate slow, swirling motions, maximizing the emphasis of his smooth skin.

“Admit it. You’re safe to, with me. Say it aloud.”

His mouth flapped open and closed, his tongue working but his lungs not providing the necessary air.

All throughout she kept on stroking at his jaw, his chin, his cheek. Talons closed around his neck, running up and down skin he was not aware could be so sensitive.

“I shouldn’t,” he finally blurted out.

“That’s not what I asked now, is it?”

“It’s p-perverse,”

The dragon hissed, pinning him tightly to the floor.

“Hush. Even if it were, that would hardly dismiss it. Here,”

She didn’t even need a claw to effortlessly tear a portion of his shirt, exposing his shoulders. The forked tips of her tongue teased his collarbone, and he involuntarily made a needy noise.

“I’ll reward you, mm? Say it.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t. But a far more intense dragging of her tongue across his neck weakened his resolve.

“I- I want it,”

He was crumbling. He couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. She didn’t force him to, this time, but still her voice was smug.

“Want what, mm?”

“No. No! You already know— Come on, please,”

Was he really reduced this much? Begging and whining?

“Say it, precious.”

He whimpered as she nuzzled his neck teasingly, her soft nose electrifying against his bare skin. Finally, he broke.

“I- I want to be a- a woman,”

It came out as a choked hiss, her eyes squeezed shut in shame. Her perversion laid bare, pulled out like a rotten tooth.

She was startled as the dragon’s teeth grazed the most sensitive part of her neck, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Claws dug possessively into her jaw, into the soft flesh of her cheek, holding her in place as the tongue found where her neck met her ear.

She let out a desperate animal moan, involuntarily pushing against the dragon’s paws to try and maximize the physical contact.

A tail snaked around her thighs, drawing her in closer. The dragon’s voice lowered to a whisper, her teeth teasing her earlobe.

“Why should I stop here?” Claws ran up her calves, “Perhaps we should continue, see just how sensitive your legs are,”

They rotated around to her inner thigh, causing her to squirm against the restraints, “Your thighs,”

She reached up further still and squeezed non-existent breasts, and although there was nothing for her to feel she moaned all the same.

“Your chest.”

She was clay in the dragon’s paws, trying to push against every source of touch to feel as much of it as possible. Talons searching over every inch of her body, systematically stripping away hated old clothing, leaving the occasional mark. The dragon freed her limbs, leaving her to writhe pathetically against her scales.

you guys remember s1 of tfp where megatron was controlling the terrorcons and threatened that op would become one??