Beryl woke up one morning to discover she had turned into a spider in the night. The room seemed so much brighter than usual and Beryl found, on opening her eyes, that she had eight of them when she had just the usual two when she fell asleep, giving her four times as much of a view.
It wasn't until she stumbled out of bed and found she had eight feet legs to swing off the bed and eight feet to plant on the floor that she realized something was wrong. She scuttled into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Looking back at her was a black, hairy arachnid. She knew it was her because it was wearing the peach bed jacket Maureen had knitted for her last winter.
Beryl made her way into the lounge, exploring how it felt to walk with as many feet as both her cats added together. They saw her coming and bolted through the catflap before she could attempt a stroke. Not that she knew which of her legs to use as a hand and to stroke them with. Plus the way they looked made her feel hungry.
Beryl wondered how she would manage with things like shopping and cooking and cleaning. Maybe Gerald would have to take on more of the housework or their daughter Maisie might lend a hand until she felt normal again.
Beryl heard Gerald stir in his bedroom. Imagine if they had still shared a room like in the early years of their marriage. What a fright he would get to wake up next to a five foot high Black Widow.
The thought of Gerald made Beryl's mouth water. She listened as he slipped on his dressing gown, washed his face in the bathroom, headed for the lounge. Moving silently to a position beside the door, Beryl experimented with her spinneret, ready to welcome Gerald to his day.