This is not the first time I have written human/scorpion porn and it won't be the last.
This time it's amy_wolf's fault.
At the joints of their legs and the crevices of their carpaces it oozes like sap from a slashed tree, but only in times of great distress.
At the juncture of their grasping jaws it seeps when they are satisfied, and is stronger, and thicker, and needs less time fermenting. To satisfy a scorpion of such size is no simple task, and the milkers of these massive monsters come in two breeds:
There are the bullies, who come at the big beasts with their firebrands and their captured spiders, and no one can call them cowards - to catch a spider is the work of a daredevil, to face a scorpion the calling of a courageous man. But they are bullies all the same. They bring their firebrands and their spiders and their stage hands and they corner and catcall and crack and curse, and the scorpion gives up the glaze, and it is weaker and more acidic, and must be kept in the jars for longer.
Then there are the ones of calm and virtuous character, whom no one will marry. Men and women who cavort with scorpions. They have longer lives, sweeter faces, and greater fortunes, for their skills are rarer. They produce finer, sweeter sap and better wine, but while the bullies are strewn with progeny and position, the caressers of chitin are left to die without issue, for what right-thinking person would risk the poison that must run in their veins?
The caressers, strange to say, do not turn to each other.
Perhaps they prefer the scorpions.
At the joints of their legs and the crevices of their carpaces it oozes like sap from a slashed tree, but only in times of great distress.
At the juncture of their grasping jaws it seeps when they are satisfied, and is stronger, and thicker, and needs less time fermenting. To satisfy a scorpion of such size is no simple task, and the milkers of these massive monsters come in two breeds:
There are the bullies, who come at the big beasts with their firebrands and their captured spiders, and no one can call them cowards - to catch a spider is the work of a daredevil, to face a scorpion the calling of a courageous man. But they are bullies all the same. They bring their firebrands and their spiders and their stage hands and they corner and catcall and crack and curse, and the scorpion gives up the glaze, and it is weaker and more acidic, and must be kept in the jars for longer.
Then there are the ones of calm and virtuous character, whom no one will marry. Men and women who cavort with scorpions. They have longer lives, sweeter faces, and greater fortunes, for their skills are rarer. They produce finer, sweeter sap and better wine, but while the bullies are strewn with progeny and position, the caressers of chitin are left to die without issue, for what right-thinking person would risk the poison that must run in their veins?
The caressers, strange to say, do not turn to each other.
Perhaps they prefer the scorpions.