Attack of the 50-Foot Willow
Willow had been having intervals of queasy feelings in her stomach ever since the bungled hostage exchange had resulted in her being locked in a cupboard for two days with nothing to eat except for the contents of the mysterious box. They had been alive, and wriggly and unpleasant, but she’d eaten them anyway. They’d actually been surprisingly tasty, and full of fibre, but it was still an experience that she didn’t want to think about and she’d tried to put it from her mind.
Other than the queasiness there seemed to have been no ill-effects; in fact there had even been some benefits, as she had discovered in a fracas with some vampires (and in bed with Oz the night before Graduation). Cuts, scratches, and bruises healed almost instantly. She seemed to be almost immune to pain, too, although she hadn’t dared to put that to the test in any major way.
It wasn’t until Graduation Day, as she sat in her gown among the ranks of students listening to Mayor Wilkins’ speech and waiting for the inevitable apocalyptic conflict, that the queasiness really became a big issue.
As the moon crept over the sun, and the Mayor began to rush through his speech, Willow felt her stomach contracting agonisingly and she doubled up with a cry. Simultaneously the Mayor grimaced in pain on the podium and broke off in mid platitude.
“It has begun,” Wilkins proclaimed. “My destiny.” He began to grimace, faltered out a few more words, and then stretched and grew, transforming into a gigantic snake.
Willow grimaced, stretched, and grew. Her arms elongated and twined sinuously. More arms burst forth from her chest and shoulders, tentacles bearing mouths and suckers, and her mouth gaped wide.
“What on Earth?” the Wilkins monster gasped incredulously. “You are ascending too!”
“No kidding,” the Willow monster snarled back. Absent-mindedly she stretched out a tentacle, snatched up Principal Snyder, popped him into her mouth and chewed. “Okay, Wilkins, let’s get it on.”
Students screamed and cowered away, until Buffy and Xander bellowed orders at them and formed them into a fighting line. A wave of vampires charged towards them from nearby alleys, but faltered as they beheld the two monstrous creatures poised for battle ahead. The students charged to meet them, their charge doubly motivated by desire to escape the giants as well as to engage the vampires. Angel’s reserve force of jocks and drop-outs struck the vampires in the rear and battle was joined.
Willow’s tentacles lashed out and struck at Wilkins. He snapped back at her; but she had superior weaponry and manoeuvrability, and she drove him back towards the High School. He cowered, backed away, and sought shelter within the building.
Buffy rolled her eyes and lit the fuse. “If you can understand me, Will, don’t go in the school,” she warned.
“Of course I understand you,” Willow said crossly. “Not stupid here.” She stretched out a tentacle and snatched up a vampire who was about to bite Harmony Kendall, pulled its head off, and let the dust shower down on the dumb blonde.
“Wow! Gee, thanks, Octopussy, uhh, Willow,” Harmony beamed. “You are totally the coolest monster.”
“Everybody duck!” Buffy yelled. The High School blew up and fragments of burning giant snake rained down on everyone. It smelled rather like chicken, and Willow gobbled up a few suitcase-sized chunks.
The vampire army was quickly defeated with minimal casualties among the students. Angel scuttled off to the shadows as the sun returned to the sky. Willow felt the sun’s rays hit her and suddenly she shrank down to her normal size and the tentacles retracted into her body.
“That was seriously creepy!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”
“You turned big with the tentacles,” Buffy replied. “Will, did you eat any of the Gavrok spiders?”
“Uhh, the squiggly things in the box? Maybe one or two,” Willow confessed. “I was real hungry, you know. But hey, all over now, and it was pretty cool, yeah?” A tentacle suddenly shot out from her stomach and picked up her Graduation diploma. “Oops.”
Oz looked at her and raised one eyebrow a tenth of an inch. Willow winced; her boyfriend was obviously seriously wigged.
“Will, you ate Principal Snyder,” Buffy scolded.
“I didn’t mean to,” Willow pouted. “Anyway, no biggy. Xander ate Principal Flutie.”
“I did no such thing!” Xander protested. “I just ate the pig.”
“Whatever. So, we going to celebrate at the Bronze like usual? Or is it videos at your place?”
Willow walked home alone after an evening of post-Apocalypse unwinding. Oz hadn’t offered to walk her home; he was still unsettled by her demonic transformation, and the night had been seriously deficient on the smoochies front. She was worried about her relationship, but not about her unescorted journey. The local vampires had been almost exterminated and the streets were safer than they had been in years.
Or so she thought. The door of an old black car, parked at the side of the street, suddenly opened and a familiar figure leaped out and confronted her. “Hello, Red,” an English voice purred.
“Spike!” Willow gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you, love,” the Slayer of Slayers informed her. “Haven’t been able to sleep for thinking about you since that night at the factory. Couldn’t settle with Dru. Every time I shagged her I had to pretend it was you before I could come.” He took hold of her by the shoulders. “Gotta have you, pet. I’ll make it good for you, and I won’t do you any harm, but I am having you – willing or not.”
“There will be no having of any kind,” Willow insisted. She felt a tentacle twitch inside her stomach, and squirmed at the peculiar sensation.
“Sing a new one, pet, that one’s getting old,” Spike grinned. “You’re getting turned on, I can smell it.”
It was true. Something inside her, perhaps the demonic contamination, was converting her fear into sexual excitement. Willow fought against the feelings and tried to summon up a tentacle or two; but the extra appendages refused to appear. “No having!” she squeaked. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” Spike agreed. “Me.” He pulled her tight to his chest and kissed her fiercely. She tried to push him away for a moment but then succumbed and returned his kiss. Their tongues entwined; Willow’s tongue lengthened and wrapped entirely around Spike’s, massaging it, and then shrank back to its normal size.
“Bloody Hell!” Spike exclaimed as the kiss came to an end. “You’re the best sodding kisser I’ve met in a hundred and twenty years! Bet you could give a fantastic blow job.”
Willow blushed. “I wouldn’t know how,” she admitted.
“Bet you could learn right quick,” Spike leered. “Ever had your cunny eaten, love?”
“No eating!” Willow squeaked.
“Bloody Hell, Red, you can be a bit sodding naïve,” Spike grumbled. “I mean has your pussy ever had a good licking? That boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – of yours gone down on you?”
Willow shook her head, and her blush deepened.
“He definitely doesn’t deserve you, then.” Spike shook his head and ran one hand slowly down her body, resting it on her buttock and fondling her. He smirked lasciviously.
“No fair. I only boinked him for the first time last night, he hasn’t had time to ‘go down’ on me,” Willow defended Oz.
“If he didn’t make time, he’s not good enough for you,” Spike countered, and pulled her against his groin. “Come on, pet, let’s get somewhere private. Can’t wait any longer to see what’s under that stupid fuzzy jumper.”
A tentacle squirmed briefly under Willow’s skin and then subsided. “You might be surprised,” she told him.
“Don’t tell me those are falsies?” Spike exclaimed, alarmed, and brought his hands up to check them out. “Phew!” he sighed with relief. “Definitely for real, and they feel sodding great. Want to look at them, love. Come on, in the car.”
“Not gonna do it in a car by the side of the road!” Willow objected. “People might see.”
“Gonna take you to a motel room, you daft bint.” Spike rolled his eyes. “You deserve a double bed, and champagne, and the lights on so I can take a good gander. Shut your trap and get in the motor.”
Willow hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t totally sure if she was still invulnerable, although she suspected not. Wilkins had disintegrated into bite-sized chunks, after all. Spike might or might not be able to hurt her; however if she resisted him, and found that her invulnerability had expired, she could acquiesce at that point. Fighting back might well be a viable option.
Spike tilted his head to one side, ran his tongue over his teeth, and sucked in an unneeded breath, throwing his perfect cheekbones into sharp relief in the street lighting. “Hurry up, love, you’re wasting fucking time,” he grumbled.
Willow melted and slipped her arm around his waist. “Okay,” she smiled. “But no smoking! Well, not until the traditional cigarette afterwards.”
Going into the motel room with Spike seemed somehow incredibly grown-up. Not grown-up in the fifty foot tall way she’d been at Graduation, of course; very adult. Adult as in adultery. Not that she was married, of course, and neither was Spike, at least as far as she knew, but it was more like adultery than making out in a car or in her bedroom while her parents were out would have been. And yeah, she was going to be unfaithful to Oz; but she had a horrible feeling that her demonic transformation might have put a stopper on that relationship anyway, especially the eating the Principal bit, so hey, as well hung for a sheep as for a lamb.
Then her bravado evaporated and she couldn’t face undressing in front of Spike and wanted him to go into the bathroom while she stripped off and got under the covers.
He laughed, and plied her with champagne until she relaxed, and then insisted gently but firmly on undressing her. His awed exclamations of delight as her rose-tipped breasts were uncovered sent excited tingles through her whole body.
He kissed his way down her body to her panties, slipped them down, and lowered his mouth to her pussy. He lapped at her eagerly.
Suddenly her clit developed a life of its own, growing and twitching and thrashing against his tongue. She moaned in ecstasy, closed her eyes, and threw back her head. Tentacles shot out of her hips, fastened onto the back of his head, and held him tightly to her as she shuddered in orgasm. They shrank away into her body again as her paroxysm subsided.
Spike raised his head and licked his lips. “Abso-bloody-lutely delicious!” he smirked. “Enjoyed that, did you, Red? You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Willow’s legs buckled, and he caught her as she sagged. He rose to his feet holding her and laid her down on the bed. He snatched up the champagne bottle, poured a small quantity into her navel, and then bent over her and licked it up.
“Oooh! Tickles! Oooh!” Willow squealed, quivering as the sensation sent after-shocks rippling through her body.
“Like that, then, you little firecat?” Spike teased. “Okay, love, time you were fucked.” He put down the champagne bottle and began to shed his clothes.
Willow managed to raise her head enough to watch with appreciation as he stripped off his shirt to reveal his chest and abdomen, taut and wirily muscled, and then off came his jeans and his boxers. She licked her lips at the sight of his trim ass, and then came the ultimate unveiling. An impressively hard and erect cock; rather like an alabaster obelisk, only without the commemorative stele recording victories over the Assyrians and the tribes of the Upper Nile.
She wiped drool off her chin. “Mmmm, nice,” she complimented, and reached out for him. “Your turn,” she said boldly, and drew him towards her mouth. She hesitated before actually taking him in, but then quickly enveloped his cock with her mouth before her courage could desert her. She had read articles in Cordelia’s magazines giving her a rough idea of what to do, but she had zero practical experience; still, it couldn’t be that difficult or Harmony would never be able to do it.
Spike groaned in pleasure and clutched lightly at her hair. “You’re a bleeding natural, pet,” he praised. Then Willow’s tongue developed a life of its own, wrapped around his shaft, and began to work back and forwards. “Jesus Christ on a unicycle!” Spike gasped. “That is – uuuh – sodding – nnnnhhh – fantastic! Wow!”
He stopped her after a minute. “Hang on, love. Want to fuck you. Got to fuck you. Sod it; want to make love to you.”
Willow released him reluctantly, and her tongue resumed its normal size and shape. “All right, then,” she assented, and lay back.
“All right? Not much of a come-on, Red,” he teased her, looking down at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He tilted his head to one side and ran his tongue lightly over his teeth.
Willow smiled back up at him. “Sorry, not really big with the bedroom conversation. Not like I’ve exactly done this much. Okay, fuck me. Put it in me, big boy.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Oh well, you use your tongue so well for other things that I can forgive you a bit of naff dialogue.” He joined her on the bed and began to trail kisses up and down her body and her legs, pausing to nibble at her clit and at each nipple as he passed them. Eventually he grew tired of the foreplay and clamped his mouth down on Willow’s, settled his body between her legs, and eased his cock carefully home.
Willow uttered a muffled squeal of pure unadulterated – and indeed unadulterous – joy at the sensation. It felt as if she was being completed, as if something that she hadn’t realised had been missing had been restored. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her fingers clutched at his back, and suddenly two pairs of tentacles shot out from her sides. They wrapped tightly around Spike and urged him on; not that he really needed any urging, he was thrusting away enthusiastically in any case.
Her clit doubled in size, trebled, and began to thrash back and forwards again, rubbing against the base of Spike’s cock. Her pubic hair grew and extended, creeping down to Spike’s testicles and tickling them exquisitely. Yet another tentacle extended from her coccyx, its tip sliding up and probing at Spike’s ass, making its way to his anus and insinuating its way inside, squirming and wriggling and locating his prostate, manipulating it even as he began to come.
Willow exploded in an orgasm that seemed to fill her veins with molten chocolate. Spike came at the same time, his paroxysm of ecstasy reaching an intensity that would have burst the brain of a human. His shriek of pleasurable release shattered the champagne glasses, blew up a light bulb, and brought a rain of plaster from the ceiling.
Afterwards he lay gasping for the breath that a vampire didn’t normally need, lying limp and drained beside a similarly exhausted Willow. “Fuck, you’re bloody fantastic, pet,” he panted. “That was – effulgent.”
“What?” Willow asked. She was totally drained, but not in the bad way. She lay absolutely relaxed, bathed in a warm glow of bliss, her tentacles retracted and quiescent once more.
“Nothing that makes sense,” Spike said hastily. “That was sodding brilliant.”
“So, was I good?”
“Is the Pope a Catholic? Is Angelus a bastard? Is Drusilla a loony who I don’t care if I never ever see again? Good doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet. Have to invent a whole new language to contain an adequate superlative. I had thought of eating you after our shag, but sod that. Never gonna harm you, pet, or let anyone else harm you. I’m your willing slave.” He regained enough energy to resume his campaign to cover her from head to foot with kisses, and Willow felt her desire beginning to stir again. Spike trailed a finger round and round her left nipple and grinned at her fondly. “One thing, pet, why didn’t you tell me you had a bit of demon in you?”
“I only found out this afternoon,” she revealed. She batted her eyelids at him. “If you’re up to it, I wouldn’t mind a bit more.”