1 comments/ 3658 views/ 13 favorites Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 01 By: Zev95 A/N: I feel I should explain. This is one of the series, like Marry The Knight, that I simply get a lot of requests to continue. However, unlike MtK, its story is tangled up in Ultimacy, which is sadly slow-going. I apologize. However, people keep asking, and this did end on a cliffhanger, and I know how people appreciate having just a nice story about Peter and MJ and Felicia being happy in the middle of this BND stupidity. So, here's the thing: the 'crossover' portion of the story will appear under the Ultimacy name, when indeed it is written. This however is skipping past that and continuing the story of the non-Ultimate Peter and Mary Jane and Felicia. Don't worry about spoilers or getting lost, I've made things as clear as possible in the text, just drop a comment if you're still confused. That's also partly the reason for the new title; when all is said and done, you can go Gwen Stacy Syndrome, Ultimacy, Spider + Cat + Redhead. Clear? You're welcome! Earth-617 Mary Jane found Felicia wrapped around the toilet. In the white, ultra-modern bathroom—the one room in the apartment where the furnishings didn't run to the extra—Felicia's pale beauty with her paler hair and her black outfit (fashion rather than costume this time) seemed like a mirage. Mary Jane hurried over, checking the floor before she stepped, but no—whatever meal Felicia had relived, it'd ended up in the toilet. Felicia was experienced with partying too hard, as experienced as her even, but even at her worst, MJ had avoided stringing together three hangovers in a row. "Sometimes margaritas are not our friends," MJ said, kneeling down to gather up Felicia's hair while the cat burglar rested her cheek on the toilet's cool linoleum seat. The sight of it made Mary Jane very glad for her maid service. "They are our frenemies." "I wasn't drunk," Felicia muttered, one side of her mouth muffled by the toilet seat. "I think I have a stomach flu. This is why I don't do relationships. Bad for the immune system." Having ascertained that Felicia's hair hadn't been polluted, Mary Jane petted it, much like she would a Persian cat. "I miss Peter too. But at least you know, with him, he's doing everything he can to get back. And you don't give a shit about him being faithful. So it's not so bad. Really. It's not. Where else would he rather be than here, with us?" "Nowhere. Obviously." Weakly, Felicia pulled her head up. "Unless there's some universe out there where I have a twin sister." "The man knows his limitations. He wouldn't be able to handle two of you." "What if he had six arms? He does sometimes, you know." "Don't tell me you find that sexy." Felicia shrugged a little, then collapsed. At least this time she did it into Mary Jane's arms rather than any part of the toilet. "How do you do this, MJ? Just... miss him. You can't help him, you can't do anything—you just have to wait?" "It sucks," Mary Jane said. "Yes." "That's all. It just sucks. But maybe, I don't know—it reminds you what you have. Doesn't let you take it for granted." Felicia was silent for a long time. "I may need a bath." "I'll draw you one." "And some company." "Okay," MJ said, rising to start the bath, instantly hot water flying from the spigot. She still liked that part much better than the last apartment she'd shared with Peter. "But when I say I'm going to wash your back, that's all I'm doing. Unless this bath is in Listerine." Felicia snuggled into the white rug, running a hand over her black top and leather pants. "Says the woman who was all about not taking things for granted—you should be banging me night and day while you have the chance." "Pretty sure I've got 'the chance' on lockdown." "Well, yeah, as long as I'm a slut and you're pretty." Felicia sighed, trying to get her top off to assist Mary Jane's bathing of her. It ended up tangling in her arms and over her face. "I hope Peter's having fun. Going on a sex tour of the multiverse. Might loosen him up a little. Finally get him to try pegging." "And that's why I should've warned Peter about going into battle in skintight spandex with an ass that won't quit. You think you're bad, you should see some of the posts Electro's made on the internet..." "Put in some bath salts, pwease," Felicia whimpered. "I have a backache." "With that chest, I'm not surprised." "And a headache." "Now you're just milking it." "Rub my shoulders?" "Fine. Why do you have three taps? Hot, cold, and—" "Milk." "Jesus, you really are milking it." "With this chest, you're surprised?" *** Earth-69 For a long time after he'd arrived, Peter just stood and thought. He wasn't on his Earth, he knew that much. It just didn't feel the same, vibrate at the same frequency. He didn't put much stock in all that Madame Web nonsense, him being some sort of Captain Britain without the cute sister. But maybe that was it. Or maybe he'd been up, down, and around New York City so many times that he just knew the real deal from any Brand Echh version. But that wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him was what would happen when he did get back. If there was one thing his time in that odd, black leather universe where he was older than Reed Richards had made clear to him—it was that he was an idiot. Tangling himself up with Mary Jane and Felicia hadn't made them both happy, it just meant that now there were two women missing him, two women in danger without his protection. At least with Gwen, he'd only risked her, not her and Liz Allan too. He knew he couldn't just ditch them. Well, maybe Ana. But he needed a wife. He was no better than Tony Stark that way—needing Pepper Potts to keep him on the straight and narrow. Just because his vices were crimefighting and guilt instead of anything fun didn't mean that he couldn't have an overdose. Go around calling himself the Spider again. Yeesh. He had to pick one. Do the mature thing, like he should've done in the first place. But which? He loved them both, or at least, he was so infatuated with the two of them that he couldn't pick out one to draw the short straw. And what the three of them had together—the odd, but undeniably effective triangle where they had each other and Felicia had Spider-Man and Mary Jane had Peter and he had—he felt like he had everything... he loved that. Somehow more than he'd loved Felicia or Mary Jane or even Gwen. Maybe especially Gwen. He adored being able to help and comfort and support the two of them, with no jealousy, no recrimination, nothing but, somehow, love. But he had to throw it away. If he was going to endanger someone, chain someone to his madhouse life, the least he could do was limit the collateral damage. Without him, Felicia would be a heiress, one hell of a private investigator, hell on heels. Without him, Mary Jane would be an actress, a model, heck, she'd even talked about buying out some struggling nightclub with Felicia's walking-around money. Maybe he should just see if he could discretely slip away from the relationship. Leave the two of them together. Felicia was great at being a superhero, Mary Jane was great at being a superhero's girlfriend. They'd make a good team. Maybe he could—who knew—date a robot. See if Jocasta was single. Or that new Ultron looked cute. Would Hank mind him dating a robot replica of his wife? And did a robot building itself a cute naked body mean it was trans? "Stop in the name of the law!" someone cried. Cripes, even in other dimensions. Peter looked out over the skyline, thinking that he was wearing his costume anyway. And while what happened in Vegas might've stayed in Vegas, he doubted Great Responsibility hung out exclusively in good ol' Earth-617. The first thing he saw was the Beetle, zooming erratically through the air like Iron Man in his pre-AA days. It wasn't his Beetle, but the new girl one, with the cute look and the light brown skin that could've been patented by Starbucks. Judging from the big, science-y canister wrapped in her arms, it was easy to guess which law she'd broke. Why didn't he get any cute groupie chicks wanting to be Spider-Girl? Well, okay, the time-traveling one had apparently been his possible future daughter (she'd seemed cool; point in favor of picking MJ), which sorta soured the whole concept. And despite the name, none of the Spider-Women were much for giving him the time of day. Maybe being the Woman to his Spider-Man was just too damn unfeminist for them. Like thinking Jeremy Renner was hot. Spoke too soon: chasing her was Araña; sort of a fan. The last time he'd really touched base with her—well, his universe's her—had been a few years ago, when she was in her teens, and she hadn't seemed too keen on being his sidekick. But then, it wasn't like Patriot was eager to call himself Private America or anything—if only because that sounded like a film by Dinesh D'Souza. At the time, Araña had worn a white tanktop and black pants, goggles as mask, with a headband in her reddish-brown hair. Adulthood hadn't changed her costume, but now the tank only covered half of her lean torso, leaving a generous portion of flat belly exposed, and an equally generous endowment of rounded cleavage thinly covered. Her pants similarly clung to well-sculpted legs and an ass that made Peter feel like a dirty old man for noticing it. The pants ended at her calves, leaving bare another helping of duskily golden skin down to her feet, where she wore sneakers and ankle socks. A new tattoo was on one shin, to go with the one Peter remembered from her bicep. Something about seeing a young adult, clearly beautiful and sexual, still wearing the costume of her budding womanhood, struck Peter as slightly taboo. He wasn't sure he disapproved. It reminded him of a fantasy Mary Jane had once told him involving James Buchanan, robot arm model, wearing his old Bucky costume. The impropriety of the thought, its naughtiness, was kinda the point. "C'mon!" Araña called after the Beetle, trying to snag a webline on the flier, but missing. "Please stop in the name of the law? Slow down in the name of the law? Take a breather in the name of the law?" Admittedly this was another universe and it might be one of those annoying ones where everyone was evil: Steve, evil, Thor, evil, Tony Stark, evil (well, eviler). But Peter got a strong vibe of this Araña having the same heroic disposition as the one he had known, and this Beetle being as bad as any of the other Beetles. Besides, Beetle was tingling his spider-sense, while Araña gave him the warm vibe of a fellow web warrior (they had to find a better name) that he had become sensitized to in recent years. "Comin' at ya from Earth-617," Peter cried as he snipered off a webline, perfectly catching Beetle by the armpit. Her momentum suddenly redistributed, she swung in a short arc, Peter helping her along with his proportional strength so that instead of flying off free and clear, her own thrust redirected her into a rooftop water tower. It exploded in a cascade of H2O, the Beetle being washed down to the roof in a haze. She tried to pick herself up, stumbling against the shack that served as the building's rooftop access, but Araña had arrived and together, she and Peter web-bukkaked the villain, showering her with webbing from throat to belt, straitjacketing her arms and torso to the wall. Her legs splayed out from the cocoon imprisoning her, long and lean. "Nice moves, Spidey," Araña congratulated. Good to know he wasn't a dictator in this world or anything. "Nothing like an old-fashioned superhero team-up." She went to Beetle before Peter could object, ripping off her mask to reveal a surprisingly winsome face. As Peter had suspected, it was Janice Lincoln, her features sweetly delicate, with a hundred intricately kinky braids falling from her scalp, more like beaded artwork than hair. Her eyes, keen and searching, scrutinized Araña angrily. The fact that she was soaking wet—the pants of her costume plastered, slightly translucent, to her tanned, toned legs—did more to make her look like she was participating in a beach photo shoot than to ruffle her. "Playa hata," she fired off. "What'd you nab, Lincoln?" Araña demanded. "That laboratory looked pretty well-funded. I'm guessing you didn't break in there just for the coffee maker." "Keep guessing, biyatch. Just because you caught me doesn't mean I'm gonna make it easy for you." Janice laughed bitterly. "Couldn't even do it by your lonesome. Needed Big Daddy Spider to help you out." "You have no idea how big," Araña said with a wink. Uh, what was that? Peter wondered. Janice tried again to get a rise from her. "At least I don't go running to my pops for help!" "Yeah, we'll see what you do to make bail, Tombstone Jr. Where were you taking the loot? Who hired you? No way you wanted some science project for yourself." "I'd say go fuck yourself, but I don't want you to have the pleasure." "Yeah, it would be a pleasure. Now shut up or the next thing in your mouth's gonna be my webs. Probably not the sticky white fluid you're used to." Janice withdrew to Peter, still standing abreast of the situation like a bad dancer at prom. His suspicions were confirmed—when Araña reached him, she gave him a more than friendly pat in greeting. Well, it was friendly enough. It was the location that made it a bit intimate. "Uh, real quick?" Peter started, glad his mask spared him from revealing what a blusher he was. "I'm not 'your' Spider-Man." "Of course not. We're not exclusive." "No, I mean, I'm not from this universe. I'm from a different one. I got sent to a different, different universe and I was supposed to go home, but instead I ended up here—look, have you ever seen Sliders?" "I'm dating you. Of course I've seen Sliders." Araña shook her head. "Okay, so you're one of those—black transgender zombie Spider-Men?" "Uh, no. White, straight... born with a penis. The usual, I guess." "You do look a little different. Are you wearing underwear under your suit?" She reached to check. "Yes!" Peter said, jerking back. "And I'm married! Like, double-married!" "So?" "Well, wouldn't this me, your me, be a little irritated that you cheated on him with me-me?" "Who's Mimi?" "No, no Mimi, me-me." "Oh. What's cheating?" Peter sighed. "I'm just... not interested. Let's put it that way." "Ohhhhhh." Araña nodded sagely. "I get it. See, on this universe, being straight means that you're interested in the opposite sex. My mistake. Won't happen again. We don't get many of you people here. Most of the population is bisexual—" "What do you mean 'you people'?" Araña... the half Mexican and half Puerto Rican superhero... gave him a look. "What do you mean, 'you people'?" "Uh... did I say I was white?" "Yes." "Is that the majority here?" "Yup." "Well, in my universe, we have a black president." "A man?" "Yeah." "Typical. Listen, forget it, I'm going to go find whatever Dung Beetle was stealing. It's gotta be around here somewhere. You watch her, make sure she doesn't run off. And if you wanna fuck her, go ahead, SHIELD database says she's STD-free and on birth control." "Excuse me?" "You don't have birth control on your world?" Araña sounded horrified. "No—yes, we do—I'm not going to... force a crook I've captured!" "Why would you have to force her?" Araña asked, more confused than ever. "You have a big dick, right? My Spider-Man has a big dick." "She won't want to have sex with me just because I have—" "Yes I would!" Beetle called. Good ears on her. "What's the big deal?" Araña asked. "You caught her—might as well screw her. At least that way she'll get something out of the whole thing. It's just polite; not like she killed someone or anything." "But she's tied up!" "Yeah, she's into that, obviously. Why else would she be a supervillain? It's not like they ever get away with anything. Wait, why do people become supervillains on your world?" "They like making my life complicated," Peter said without a hint of irony. "Just... go find the thing. I need to get home and I'd really appreciate it if you could take me to your universe's Dr. Strange, or Reed Richards, or whoever could help me out—" "Reed Richards? The porn star?" Peter looked stricken. "Yeah, just kidding, he's a scientist. I'm going, you stay here. Have sex with her, don't have sex with her—I'll take sloppy seconds either way." Peter stumbled over his words as she walked to the ledge. "Am... am I sloppy seconds or is she or...?" She jumped off the building. He'd always suspected that was a really annoying way to end a conversation. Kind of why he liked doing it. You could keep your mic drop; he said goodbye to J. Jonah Jameson by dropping himself. "So..." Janice said, catching his attention. She was rubbing her thighs together. "What'd ya wanna talk about, stranger?" *** Earth-617 Sasha Kravinoff was fucked. Literally. She slithered onto his lap, naked and squirming, and when she tried her strength against his hand, he let her force it to her luscious breast and then went a step further, squeezing it. As well, he felt the sleek perfection of her thigh rubbing against his leg, and the torrid tension of her sex on his bare skin. Her searching lips and seeking hands worked at him, conjured their magic from him, and he was as hard and as unyielding as ever, almost ignoring her as she thrust herself upon him, around him. Still, she could not provoke a proper response. As much as she stimulated herself by literally throwing herself at him, he would not join her in culmination, and so denied Sasha her satisfaction. She was a natural submissive, no matter how hard she tried to hide it outside the bedroom, and failing to pleasure her mate made it impossible for she herself to reach completion. She blew in his ear, kissed his neck, his cheek, his mouth, but besides his careless grip and the idle rocking of his body keeping her perched on the edge of oblivion, he seemed to have eyes only for the distance beyond her clutching back. "Where is he?" the man asked gently, his prick motionless within Sasha's desperately working sex. "Where's the Jackal?" "Make me come! Let me come and I'll tell you!" He dismissed her offer as he dismissed her, once more withdrawing the boon of his attention, causing her pleasure to plummet. She could've wept. The first few seconds of the fuck—it had been long minutes now, and dozens of them—had been wonderful. He'd thrust his entire length into her, claiming her, owning her, as none had since her dear Ana had been conceived. But then, as now, he hadn't brought her to orgasm, keeping her dangling sadistically off the precipice without ever allowing her to fall. She screamed, she keened, she pleaded, but he turned a deaf ear. She could stand no more. Forgive me, Sergei, forgive me. "New Jersey!" she whimpered. "1305 Benjamin Avenue. Under the warehouse. His entire lab—" He'd ceased listening. Instead, he finished her. A bare iota of his attention he lavished her with; a few quick thrusts and a brief glance at her eyes to make sure he'd handled her. It was enough. She came, gloriously, her mind fluttering bright colors as she remembered how Ana had begged her to take the Spider as a lover, begged for them to be a family. She'd had no idea. No idea how wonderful he could be. And no wonder Ana had wanted her to join them. There was no way she could've handled him by herself, simply no way. Perhaps if Ana were here now, they would be enough for him, but this was—this was hunting what she could not kill. Breaking the first rule of the jungle. She would almost be ashamed of herself, but for how she wept with ecstasy. Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 01 He pulled away from her, not even bothering to come himself. Like she was beneath him. Unworthy of a moment more's time or attention. Sasha felt utterly humiliated, completely beholden to her conqueror. She loved him for it. "Please... more... again?" "1305 Benjamin Avenue. I can beat the rush hour if I hurry..." "I beg you... once more... I'll call off the Grim Hunter, I'll call off Calypso, I'll... I'll leave the Parkers alone, forever, leave New York forever! Anything!" "Anything?" he asked her. She nodded frantically. He circled his finger in the air and, obligingly, Sasha turned around on all fours. She was going to lie down on her belly, but he stopped her, holding her ass in place with the simple, confident gesture of a man used to be obeyed. Like Sasha herself would control a horse or a hound. A well-trained animal. She felt the familiar immensity of his manhood, not at her portal, but against her most taboo place, the place she had not even permitted her beloved Sergei to enter. "And please come inside me," she begged, unable to stop the tears from falling as she considered the possibility of him pulling out again without coming. "Please let me be your mare." "Then keep your mouth shut," he told her, and then thrust inside. Sasha was hard-pressed to obey, but obey she would. He was her master now. Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 02 Earth-617 Felicia was feeling a little better after her bath, but her funk hung over her. And here Mary Jane had thought her body had an understanding with alcohol. It seemed like Felicia's hangover included the curse of drinking an Indian burial ground or something. Still, Mary Jane's presence prodded Felicia into moaning, groaning functionality. She tried hopping into a pair of black leather pants, but they resisted her. It was a little like watching a video of an astronaut bumbling around on the Moon. "Have my pants gotten tighter?" Felicia asked. "I don't think that's possible." "Seriously, did you shrink them in the wash or something?" "I've done a superhero's laundry through symbiote invasions, apocalypses, and clones. I know when something is dry-clean only." The buzzer buzzed. Mary Jane wished Felicia a hearty farewell: "Please put on some pants if we're going to have company." Felicia's apartment didn't just have an intercom. You pressed the button, you got a live feed of whatever it was at the door. Mary Jane tried it. The face was instantly familiar. A blast from the past. Peter? She didn't say it. She didn't like to hope that hard, and she didn't want to get Felicia excited. Already she knew that it wasn't. She could feel that it wasn't. He looked like Peter—could've been Peter's brother—but his face was different, it had been lived in differently. The soul underneath burned at a different temperature. The shaved head, the scruffy jaw, those could've been Peter's, but the look in his eyes: no, never. "Mrs. Parker? Or, uh, Watson?" His voice was gruff, used to shouting, threats. It scaled down to conversation unevenly. "I'm Kaine. We've met before?" "Yeah, you almost got my husband sent to prison for murder once." "To be fair, when isn't he being framed for something?" Felicia poked her head out of the bedroom. "Is it a clone?" "Yup." "I think I dated one of them. Don't tell him I'm here." "Is that Felicia?" Kaine asked. "M-aybe?" "It's her apartment." Kaine held up a letter to the camera. The address was done in Peter's neat handwriting. "Look, Peter wrote to me. I owed him a favor—I owe him a lot of favors—and basically, if he ever went down, I was supposed to keep an eye on you two." "Peter's not dead," Mary Jane insisted, her sudden vehemence like a cat extending its claws. "He never is," Kaine agreed. "Can I come up? I'm kinda over the whole lonely hero thing. I'd rather bodyguard you where there's air conditioning." Mary Jane looked to Felicia, blanking out the transmission for the moment. Felicia sighed and, toying with her pants' fight against her water weight, she called up her inner Facebook. "Kaine Parker... Scarlet Spider... been in Houston, doing the superhero thing, but he packed it in a while back. Not that great at it. I can sympathize. Not quite as crazy as he used to be. And yes, I did think of swiping left on him, but that's probably start some inner competition to collect the whole set. If you know what I mean. Though I did fool around with that black Spider-Man." "Seriously?" Mary Jane asked. "He was, like, a kid." "Not anymore." *** Earth-69 "How do you think your wife would feel, knowing you used her as an excuse not to have sex?" Peter glazed his eyes up over Janice's long, slender legs. The water had turned her pants into little more than paint. She wasn't wearing garters either. She had nothing to hide. Her skin, even filtered through a layer of wetly clinging fabric, was flawless. Almost too silken, too smooth. She scissored her legs, causing the waistband of her costume to ride down her hips, expose a swath of belly and loins, the warm shadows of lines beginning to curve, deepen. "And what would she think?" Janice asked, rubbing her thighs together with obvious pleasure, making her wet costume tangle and bunch. "Of my legs?" He shouldn't have told her he was a married man. It'd been an automatic response, a habit he'd fallen back into now that he and Mary Jane and Felicia were together again. He loved being married, wanted to tell everyone. Even dubiously moral villainesses. Who, technically, he was allowed to 'date.' Encouraged, in fact. Something else Felicia had told him. Getting love all tangled up with intimacy and sex. And friendship. Maybe it would clear his head a little to take their advice—Mary Jane had backed her up on this—and just have some meaningless sex in Dimension Slut. Then he could figure out what to do about this threesome problem. Walloping websnappers, had he just referred to it as his 'threesome problem'? The Parker luck... "She'd think they were beautiful," Peter said at last. "Anyone would." "That's all?" Janice asked, flinging her knees impressively wide, wide enough that on either side of her crotch, the tendons on the insides of her thighs stood out from the strain. Peter swallowed hard. No, it wasn't all. They were magical. There was something about the shape of her calves, her thighs, the texture of her skin. Like Felicia's breasts, like Mary Jane's smile, it did something to him, a new taste all its own filling his waiting body. This was a different lust than he felt for any of them, but no less strong, no less valid. Taste—yes, that was the word for it. Felicia, Mary Jane, they were air, they were water, he needed them to live. Maybe this was just a nice dumpling, a foot-long hot dog just when he was in the mood, but satisfying this momentary craving wouldn't diminish how much he appreciated them. His cock pitched. The throb in his balls became awesome. He let it. "Look at my legs," Janice cooed, stroking her toes hypnotically back and forth, like a ballerina beginning an achingly slow dance. "Look how long they are. And so smooth. How would you like to have them wrapped around you? Real tight around your back, so you could hardly breathe. With your cock going in and out of my pussy." He groaned. With a few words, a minimum of movement, with her very confinement, she had brought him to full, aching erection. He played his hand over the join between the top of his costume and the bottom. "No, Spider!" she said, grinning fiercely at him. "If you want these legs, you have to earn 'em." She kicked off her shoes. Her breath left her—he could see her chest rising and falling faster within the confines of the webbing. "I want you to love my legs. I want you to kiss my feet and my ankles and my calves. Don't miss anything. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Peter nodded, swallowing to clear his drooling mouth. His cock had stiffened into a steely hardness, a lurid weapon jammed down the inside of his right pant leg. He approached her, amazed at how this quasi-submission, this openly voiced desire on her part so thoroughly took the worry of assault out of the equation. He felt like he'd used to when wrestling with Felicia—like she was willing to rub against him almost as a consolation prize for being caught. This was what they both wanted, so... why not? He knelt before her. She put her bare, small feet on his shoulders. He felt both embarrassment and excited as he raised his mask over his nose, uncovering a Zorro-ish swath of skin before turning his head to nuzzle the side of her foot. Her skin was surprisingly soft, warm, not smelly or sweaty. He supposed she hadn't been walking around much with her flight suit operational. He kissed over her ankles, her instep, working his lips to her toes. "Ooooh!" Janice moaned, rocking herself against the restraining confines of the webbing as his hot mouth seared over the underside of her foot. Her toes were small and chubby, cute in a petite way, something unexplainably punk rock in the artful polish that splotched their nails. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue, swiping it from the sole of her foot to the ball to the underside of her toes. "Ohhhhh," Janice cried, her face flushing with a rush of blood to the head. "Yes! Lick them. Lick 'em, Spider!" Peter did just that. Feeling wickedly subordinate to this woman, yet decidedly domineering for having subdued her, he slathered his moist tongue between her toes, feeling her spread them apart as she squirmed in delight. "Suck them!" she begged. "Suck!" He let her thrust her toes into her mouth. She tried to force them in and out of his pursed lips, but he sucked on them too hard, bit down a little, holding them inside his furnace of a mouth as he sucked so hard, he could see the goosebumps rise on her legs. "Oh! Ohhh!" Janice wailed, grinding her hips back against the wall, the cotton-soft vibration of even that on her pussy better than nothing. She couldn't get off without him. Peter was ridiculously turned on by that. He pushed the legs of her garment up her calves, kissing and licking her ankles. Her legs were as long and as smooth as they had appeared through the soaked clothes. Exposing them seemed to make her especially sensitive. When he reached her calves, he could've sworn she had an orgasm—letting out a piercing shriek, throwing her head back, thrusting her pussy out with her knees spread as far apart as they'd go. The smell of her arousal hit him, making him want to just close his eyes and savor her. He felt an odd un-guilt over a sudden desire to erase the scents of MJ and Felicia from his mind, replace it with this, so when he got home they would be as new and as special as they should be. He lapped hungrily behind her knee—Mary Jane had always loved that. Janice's breathing was heavy, hoarse now, while his cock felt raw and wet. He wanted to fuck her, fuck her without reservation, but he didn't want to shatter the delicate give-and-take of their mutual dependence. He was going to finish the job, lick every square inch of her legs, and, teasingly, he did that as quickly as he possibly could, sliding his tongue up to the silky smooth flesh of her inner thighs. But there, he lingered to paint the sensitive skin with his warm saliva, knowing it would drive her mad. "Oooooh, yes!" she gasped, her hips starting to tick with a will of their own, to attack the wall behind her with her well-padded ass. It was like she was spanking herself. "Oh fuck, I'm yours, baby, I'm yours, not just my legs, all of me, my cunt—!" "Fuck your cunt." Peter jerked his waistband down, his cock shooting out, aiming itself at Janice like a missile. "I'm not done with these." He grabbed her feet, wrapped them around his cock, started thrusting between her soles. It was wild, it was crazy, but it felt right to be doing something so different, to be treating her not like other women, not like someone to love, but as some exotic dish that had to be eaten in its own special, specific way. Janice wiggled her toes as his big cock slid between her feet, greasing her toes with precum, swelling, turning from stone to steel. Peter gasped and dropped her feet away; his cock jerked and flared, spurting a few drops of watery cum that landed on Janice's thighs. "You almost got me off," Peter groaned. "I was so close I almost lost it, you fucking turn-on..." "Then do it in my cunt! Come in my cunt!" Peter shook his head stubbornly. "Webbing's in the way." "Then rip it, rip it, rip it!" "I have a better idea." He put his hands on either side of Janice's head, as if about to kiss her. Then, like his flat palms were handholds, he pulled himself up so now his feet were on either side of Janice's legs. Then he simply climbed the wall until his cock was level with Janice's face. She realized all at once how enormous it was, rock-hard and throbbing. Blue veins stood out along its crimson length, precum smeared on the bloated flesh of the huge, bulbous cockhead. The game was over. Janice suddenly lost all control of herself. She had to feel a big prick ramming into her pussy, and she had to satisfy her sudden craving for a long, appetizing suck. If one followed the other, so much the better. Janice moaned as she lapped around all the spade-shaped head, pressing her tongue into the hole, barely aware or caring that if he came he might not be able to satisfy her lusts, just wanting his cum, needing it. She opened her mouth wide and dropped her head into his crotch, taking the first several inches of his prick with a gurgle. Her lips clamped in a tightly pursed circle around the throbbing shaft and she inhaled deeply, savoring the taste and the smell of what she had twitching in her mouth. Never before had she been so hungry to give a blowjob. She couldn't wait to find out how much jism he had for her, just raring to geyser out of the dick he'd so generously loaned out to her mouth. She only wished the others were there. Janice flushed shamelessly as she realized how nice it would be for them to see how big a cock she could take in her throat. "Oh, fuck, Lincoln!" Peter moaned, clutching at her beaded hair, making it jangle like a wind chime as he clung tightly to it. "That's so good! Christ, suck my cock for me!" Janice nearly choked herself as she shoved her own head down, wanting to devour as much of Spider-Man's straining cock as she could. Her cheeks puckered as her lips took in the middle of his shaft. She shut her eyes, concentrating lasciviously on the slurping, smacking sounds of her own fellatio as she sucked him very wetly and very hard. "Harder, Beetle!" Peter grimaced with the fury of her sucking. He didn't know if she was as good a supervillain as the original Beetle, but she just had to give better head. "That's just what I need—a nice, deep throat. Take it all, Beetle! Make it cum. Make me cum!" She sucked him violently, swirling her tongue around the crown, gulping down the precum as it poured out of him. Her legs stretched, trying to stir some sympathetic magic in her neglected pussy, while her arms strained against the webbing, wanting nothing more than to grab hold of the portion of cock that was uselessly outside her mouth. Or to touch herself, to at least be fucked by one or two or four of her own fingers just as her mouth was being so crudely used. Cum, Spider! She thought, sucking avidly. Shoot it all down my throat! With that weird sixth sense he seemed to have, Spider-Man obeyed her unspoken desire. His cock grew to total stiffness in her mouth, stretching her lips to the bursting point. All Janice knew was the impending explosion of seed. She sucked as hard as she could. "There, there!" Peter bucked his hips forward, grunting with pleasure. "I'm coming, Beetle! Ahhhh..." A long stream of salty cum exploded from him, shooting across Janice's tongue and splattering in back of her throat. It was delicious, the musk of sex. She slurped, throat muscles working and mouth sucking feverishly, nursing every drop of jism from his amenable cock. He kept spraying, gasping as all the tension in his body took liquid form and battered its way into Janice's belly. It pushed obscenely down her throat and Janice hungrily swallowed every drop, pumping his shooting cock frantically with her lips. Peter actually had to push her away from his cock; Janice clung on even after it had finished spurting, hoping to milk out one more delicious drop. "Christ, Janice! I don't know how much more of that I can fucking take!" "You'll have to take a little bit more," Anya said, setting down the stolen property she had recovered some time ago, before returning to the roof. Enjoying the show. "Or make me take it." It'd really turned her on, watching them game each other, each seducing their lover in their own way. She'd almost masturbated to it. But why should they have all the fun? Why should she have to masturbate when Spider-Man had such a sleek, hard body—such a big, thrilling cock? With an effort, she'd restrained herself, no matter how hot the urge became. And he was still hard. "I got so wet watching you fuck another woman with that big cock of yours. My knees are still shaking, thinking about it. Imagine how wet I'll get when you fuck me. How wet I am. No more hands, no more feet, no more fucking tongue. Time for the main event. Cojamos." "Uh, Araña?" Anya foresaw his concern—apparently his porn star alter ego wasn't too different from him. Especially not now that he'd started having threesomes. "We'll let her watch. That'll be enough for her." She smiled viciously. "And by the time we're done, the webbing will have dissolved. Then we both can fuck her. If your universe is anything like 616, then you've got a lot of pent-up... issues to work out." She ran her hand over her body. Down to her hip. "C'mon! ¡Dale cabron! It's not like there's any more room in her for all your cum. Or are you holding out to see if I'll let you fuck me in the ass?" Her smile widened. "Because you won't have to wait long." Back home, he'd never be able to face the other Araña again. Small price to pay. *** Earth-617 She could feel it through their link. He was doing it again. The fun thing. La Chingada. Reading about it, seeing pictures of it was one thing—but being connected to it, to the real thing? It sparked a humming urgency in her that was almost unbearable. The woman Kaine was fucking, Sasha—she'd gone so crazy when he'd eaten her. Could it possibly feel that good? It tasted good; at least, to Kaine it did. Sometimes, when she touched herself, her fingers... there'd been a honeyed sweetness after, fragrant and secretly exciting, the taste of forbidden fruit. Furtive, deliciously guilty. A faint, relentless throbbing had begun in her. Not in her body, but in her sex. Her virginity. She clenched her fists by her sides as her arousal mounted. She refused to masturbate. Not when Kaine was able to do such naughty things with others. Why shouldn't she? Aracely decided she would do anything to satisfy her curiosity. Anything. Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 03 Felicia was sick of being sick. She decided whatever bullshit psychosomatic bullshit was holding her back, she was fucking it and going out. It wasn't the first time she'd lost Parker; so what? Love 'em and leave 'em. Why should it be so different just because this was a long-term thing? If it were a guy and she'd intended to keep them strapped on for a week or two, would she be so broken up if she only got one date with him and then poof? No! She'd keep the home fires burning with MJ, but other than that, she'd continue being awesome, and when Peter got back, maybe she'd take him up again. Depended on how upkeep was looking on that tight little ass of his. She stripped and put on her costume, surprised at how much her breasts ached as she transferred them from her bra to the build-in support of her catsuit. They seemed larger, more sensitive, the nipples darker and the blue veins that ran through them painted a deeper shade. Maybe in the absence of Peter's 'massages', they were putting on a protest. Or maybe Mary Jane's steady attention had made them grow. If Felicia had known as a girl that some lesbian foreplay would make her breasts bigger—well, she'd have done exactly the same thing she had done. It certainly seemed to have worked the first time around. Still, zipping her suit up over them would be torture. Instead, she left her catsuit unzipped to the navel, further than even she liked to go and especially inappropriate when she was, for all intents and purposes, a married woman. But it relieved the pressure on her girls, and she did like the overall look it gave her in the mirror. She looked like some pornographic version of herself, and she was already pretty softcore, but it wasn't like it was her fault her boobs were fermenting revolution. She stepped out into the night air, the darkness embracing her, reducing everything but her fur trim and hair to a shadow, leaving that a moonish glow. She fired out her cat-claw and took a swing and was assaulted by dizzying vertigo, turning her landing into a gawkish, stumbling, undignified affair. She regained her footing, but winded, exhausted, her body drained of energy and oxygen. A sudden nervous wreck—what was wrong with her?—Felicia sunk to her knees and huddled behind a pyramid skylight, trying to regain her breath. Even the air was odd, foreign—she could smell the garbage wafting up from the latest strike, a big pile of black bags mountained up on the curb. Ten stories down. How the fuck were the people inside the building able to stand it? "Sister? Sister?" Felicia groaned inwardly. Ana alighted nearby, looking shockingly well-composed in comparison to how queasy Felicia felt. The woman had improved her costume, making it tighter and skimpier and sexier, as if she could tempt Peter into coming back just to see her in it. "I thought you were sleeping under a bridge in Central Park," she moaned, laying down flat on the rooftop. Very comfortable. Much less spinning. "No. In zoo." "That figures." "What are you doing out here, like this, in your condition?" Felicia snorted. Condition. "I always look this good. I know, it's shocking I would risk a face like mine, but that's just how much I care." Ana looked resolutely confused. Felicia was getting fed up with her 'what is this thing you call—love' act. "Not your face. Your womb. Peter's seed has taken root inside you." Felicia jerked her shoulders off the roof, unexpectedly raking her nipples over the interior of her suit. It stung like hell, Christ, they were oversensitive. "What? Shut up. It has not!" "You are aglow." "I am not! This is how I always look! I'm a very healthy person! I drink smoothies!" "Does Mary Jane Watson know?" "Do not tell her anything!" Felicia's vehemence was undercut by a yawn. Ana smiled guilelessly. "I think you will have a very strong child. A boy-child." "Great. Peter could use less women in his life," Felicia said, staring pointedly at Ana. Then she held her head as another wave of dizziness hit her. It was like, confronted by the reality of her condition, it was violently asserting itself on her, leaving no doubt as to its authenticity. Typical Hardy, Felicia mused. She would still get a pee-test and a doctor and then another doctor, because she'd gotten around and she damn sure wanted to know if this was a baby and not a Skrull infiltrating her uterus or something, but after that... after she knew... Ana sat down beside her, supporting Felicia's head as she ushered her down to a comfortable, stable position on her shoulder. It was nice. Felicia thought Ana would be great at holding the baby too, if part of baby-proofing the apartment didn't turn out to be getting rid of the semi-psychotic paying rent... Shit, did this all mean that they were going to have to move to the suburbs? "I can't believe Peter got me pregnant!" Felicia moaned. "Do you know how often he's finished inside Mary Jane?" Ana shook her head. "A lot! Me, he treated like a paint-by-numbers picture! One where all the colors were white! Goddamn, he'd better have learned to be more careful where he shoots that webbing!" *** Anya's backpack hit the ground as she stared anxiously at Peter's cock. What if he lost his hard-on? she worried. She couldn't bear that, not today, not after she'd just sat back and watched as he'd fucked Beetle to the finish. Her pussy was throbbing hard beneath her panties, desperate for cock, any cock, she wouldn't settle for Beetle tongue-fucking her or Spider fingering her, she needed cock, just needed it, as soon as she could get it! "Ay papi, look at my body," she whispered passionately, curling her tongue excessively around the Spanish dirty talk. "Stay horny for me, papi, stay nice and hard while you watch me take off my clothes. It's all yours, papi, you just have to keep that cock up and you can have my tits—" She was peeling her T-shirt over her head. She wore no bra, nor did she need one. Her body was lanky and lithe, with that slender sleekness continuing in her small, perky breasts. Despite that, her girlish figure turned Peter on, coming on the heels of her rampantly demonstrated obscenity. She struck him almost like a toy, a sexy little sorority girl toy, with her frizzy copper-red hair and big fluttery eyes that seemed almost as large as the goggles now adorning her forehead. "Do you want to suck my tits, papi?" Anya cupped one bronzed globe, fanning her fingers across a fat nipple, its pinkness surprisingly cute, almost cartoonish. "Look how big the nipple is. I bet you've never sucked a nip this big. All of your lips will fit around it and you'll suck it with all you got and I'll just love it!" She gave a little bounce—very excited, very girlish—and Peter let out a small groan at the result. Anya could see fresh blood coursing into his cock as he ogled her cherry-capped tits, still rocking from her burst of enthusiasm. But he was holding back, thinking, and Janice was just as impatient with that as Anya was. "Suck it, you idiot!" she demanded, working her hips as far as the webbing would let them go, the resistance making her remaining clothes grate against her skin, making her shiver with sensation. Peter stepped forward, cupping Anya's body beneath the breast—his hand, not large, still encompassed the side of her slender torso and held up her breast between thumb and forefinger. He dropped his mouth to the big nipple, sucking hard, and Anya felt the pleasure of it shooting straight down to her throbbing cunt. "Ay papi! Damelo duro!" she gasped. Her thin, tight pants felt thinner and tighter than ever as she humped their crotch against Peter. "Take off my clothes! Strip me bare! Throw me down and fuck me, fuck me!" Peter did her one better, throwing her next to Janice on the wall—Anya's reflexes automatically had her splaying her hands and feet backwards to catch herself on the vertical surface and hang on. Then Peter was on top of her, kissing her in one big sloppy tonguing from her breasts to the taper of her wasp waist, ripping her pants down her legs, while his mouth ran over the sun-kissed tan that covered the adorable boop of her hips, the thin but powerful thighs, the well-formed calves, the ankles, every inch of her lovely body... He hadn't taken her boots off and was unable to pull her pants off them, so he just left them around her ankles as he tore her panties clean off. She was naked, but erotically not naked, gauntlets and hairband and tangled clothes making it still evident that she had stripped down for sex, such was her desperation to be fulfilled. Janice moaned, seeing Anya's exposed, swathed body, and Anya smiled at her as she opened her legs. "Yeah papi, fuck me just like her, treat me like you treated her, use me like a whore, fuck me, fuck me, put your prick in deep—" Peter was barely listening, stripping off his shirt, his pants, all but his mask. It left him in much the same state as Anya—his boots and gloves and half-worn mask showing that this was not lovemaking, no midnight rendevouz, but a quickie, a fuck, a public and unanticipated answering of sudden desires. His body was lean and muscular—Anya didn't compare him to her Peter, but give or take some tattoos, Anya thought him much as attractive, though she was almost too busy to notice—staring so intently at his jutting cock. It might've just been her lust talking, but that seemed bigger. The one way to know for sure, of course, was to measure it against the sample she'd had before and would again. "Unngghhhh!" Anya grimaced, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she felt Peter's hard body press against hers, his big cock push into her. He spread her wide. She almost enjoyed the sensation of feeling herself open more than she did the sudden, strikingly intense sensation of having him inside her. "Con cuidado, Papi! Eres enorme!" And, impatient for more, she started humping her sly hips against him, her perky breasts dancing and shaking as she pistoned herself eagerly against him and his penetration of her. Janice licked her lips, watching the way Anya's tits flopped around as a more endowed woman's larger, heftier breasts never could. Peter pumped into her slowly, subconsciously thinking her youth and slightness made her fragile, though intellectually he knew she was tougher and more durable than either Felicia or Mary Jane. Despite himself, his hips picked up speed. They couldn't resist the feel of her pussy working on him, sucking and clasping uncontrollably down the vulnerable length of his prick. Peter hissed as he fucked his rod all the way into her hole, grinding the base of his groin between her spread labia lips. "As lo que quieras! Nadie me lo das como tu!" Anya twisted her nimble ass, wanting his cock touching every inch of her cunt, fucking herself onto him so she got it. She dug her fingers into the walls, hearing it slightly crumble, and slammed herself into his thrusts as fast as she could. She couldn't believe how horny she was, how starved she felt for the powerful thrusts of his cock. Even between strokes, she felt desperately needy for more of his cock. Her pussy throbbed like a feasting animal, milking and sucking at his manhood. Maybe it was the knowledge that this was his first time benefiting from the pleasures of her world and she was the one initiating. Perhaps it was his knowledge of how wantonly she had permitted him to use her, and now he was almost punishing her with his cock for so easily spreading her legs to him—feeling free to fuck her so hard because she was so correspondingly open to it, in a way that even Felicia and Mary Jane hadn't been. They loved him. The fact that Anya was a stranger, and yet agreeing to, insisting on such taboo acts made Peter feel practically unhinged. "Voy a venir! Voy a venir!" Her clit was tingling, chafed into raw ecstasy by the seemingly never-ending thrusts of his cock. "I'm coming, papi! Oh fuck, oh shit, coming all over your cock!" Peter fucked her harder, clinging to the wall himself and lifting himself over her to change the angle he was using to plunge himself into her gripping pussy. With his toehold keeping him in place, he settled his hands on her breasts, slamming her back against the wall and grinding his hands roughly over the contours of her cleavage. Those fat nipples ached on his palms as he kept spearing into her, reaming out her pussy deeper and harder with every thrust. "Dame esa leche! Ven conmigo!" Anya gasped. "Unh, harder, fuck me harder! Oh fuck, oh yes, oh papi... ohhhhhhhh!" The long-awaited spasms exploded through her womanhood, seeming to obliterate all feeing, consume in blazing bliss any tissue—but through it all, she still felt the ravished walls of her channel clamp down on Peter's cock. He kept fucking her, almost harder now that she couldn't join in, now that all she could do was whimper and let him fuck as fast as he wanted into her orgasming cunt. "You're making me come again, papi! Oh, Jesus!" She fought for breath, but nonetheless whipped her body into his all over again, overwhelmed by the strength of her first orgasm but even more hungry for another. "I love your cock, Spider, make me love it even more! Fuck me, fuck meeee! Dame esa leche!" Peter almost slowed down, but for her pumping her thighs on him, driving him to slam himself into her so hard now that the wall shook out dust. "Was that... you saying you wanted me to come inside you?" "Yes! Leche! Milk! Give me your milk!" "Sorry—been a while since Spanish class... are you on birth control?" "Por supuesto!" "What?" "She said yes!" Janice cried. "Did you? Because I could always—" Wrapping her legs around Peter, Anya spun them around, jamming him against the wall while she clung to it with her hands and drove herself against him, Peter now being the one slapped against the cement as he took her thrusts. "You could always! Shut up! And! Dame! Esa! Leche!" It was an action Anya had no trouble demonstrating, as she thrust her hand down into her curling pubic hairs, found her aching clit, and attacked the swollen bud with her fingers. Almost immediately, she was shuddering, sucked into another violent climax. "I'm coming again! Fuck, fuck, ahhh, Jesus, coming! Finger my asshole more! Put more fingers in my ass!" "I'm not fingering your ass!" "Shit, are there any languages you do speak? Just—keep it in my ass and hold it still—" "No, Anya, I'm not—" And, having lubed Anya up successfully, Venom drove her cock into the woman's ass. *** Earth-69 There was something to be aware of about Earth-69. Yes. It was a far more sexual, more permissive, and more open society than most Earths. However, by and large, it was still recognizably Earth. The X-Men still protected a world that hated and feared them. The Avengers were still Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Arana—whatever her kinks and whoever her partners—was still a hero who could competently save, rescue, and apprehend the various persons she met in costume. And Beetle... although more than willing to allow herself to be penetrated for the sheer fun of it... was still a criminal who would do whatever it took to avoid arrest and enrich her bank account. She had been contracted to steal a particular item from STAR Labs (an institution you may recognize from other parallel worlds; yet another difference between Earth-69 and Peter Parker's home). She had been well-briefed on its contents, how to transport it, and what to do if it were compromised. The Venom Symbiote, after its removal from Earth-69's Peter, its bonding with Eddie Brock, and his subsequent capture, had been frozen and sent to STAR Labs for study. Transporting it was accomplished with a mobile refrigeration unit to keep it docile. When, outnumbered, Janice Lincoln had realized she would be captured, she had shut off the refrigeration and allowed the container to fall, knowing it would at least crack upon impact. She had been right. And while she had distracted Peter, the symbiote had thawed. Perhaps if Arana had found it in time, she could've patched the crack, reactivated or repaired the refrigeration, and kept the symbiote in captivity. However, she'd been as intoxicated by Peter losing his Earth-69 cherry as he had been. And, while she watched, the symbiote moved into place. It had become wary since its negative experience with this world's Parker. It would no longer attempt to bond solely with the strongest host. Instead, it weighted its options. Arana was powerful, but too much like Spider-Man, too moral and strong-willed for their interests to align. Peter, too, was powerful, and more neurotic about sex than the Spider-Man the symbiote had known, but it was unsure about his foreign taste. Janice—though powerless and strong-willed—was as amoral as they came. She knew what the symbiote was capable of and was receptive to it. Willing to peel her eyes off the very distracted Peter and Anya, she spotted the symbiote. Looked at it, running her tongue around the oval of lips sensuously glossy from licking the cum off them, beguiling it with a little arching of her neat brows. She tossed her hair back from her lovely face, her eyes flicking down her own body expectantly. That decided it—the symbiote had no wish to overcome a reluctant host. While Peter and Anya continued their coupling, the symbiote began its own... Being bonded with was indescribable. Janice flexed her toes, separating them and digging them into the ground as the symbiote approached—a puddle swimming across the rooftop. It reached her feet and Janice gasped; a coolness gripping her heels and the arches of her feet like she was stepping into a swimming pool. It rose up her calves, warm now—as it settled, as the temperature shifted between them, it felt like her pussy was burning hot enough to heat the symbiote up. She closed her thighs together tightly, sending a ripple of tingling hunger through her cunt. In no time at all, the liquid was up to the insides of her warm thighs. It paused there, coiling, tightening—her legs were drawn desperately close together, like it was mocking her by squeezing her pussy that way, keeping her from stimulating herself, or blocking its own access to her sex and then entering it anyway. The symbiote's touch, its pressure, traced up between her legs, a trembling tendril of it poking beneath her underwear, through the mesh of her pubic hair. Finding her lush cunt easily, finding all of it, a wide swath of the liquid heat covering it, pushing a slim tendril up into her, barely parting the slick muscles. Janice squirmed against the symbiote like it was an invisible lover, letting out a small groan as she spread her thighs wider against the symbiote's binding. She tried to keep from voicing anything louder. It seemed like any moment Spider-Man and Arana would notice the darkness covering her legs and groin like the tightest, thinnest leather. Her hips pushed out slightly, toward where a man would be if one were making love to her. The little tentacle that had teased her now eased away, the symbiote not willing to be rushed. It almost seemed to be mastering her, dominating her, Janice realized with a rush of excitement. It inched inside her again, thicker this time, warmer, moving slowly into her warm receptiveness. She caught her breath. Held it. Exhaled. Felt the kiss of its presence on her belly—it was moving up her body still, over her mound and stomach muscle. Lava spurted from Janice into the creature, the presence. She'd come shockingly quickly, overcome by this growing sensation. The tentacle Inside prodded deeper between her thighs, licking for more. Janice could smell the perfume of her own arousal; it shook her. Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 03 The symbiote was getting excited, she could tell, she could feel it. It spurted tendrils of itself, shockingly heated, up over her chest. She could feel them burning through the webbing and her costume, sticky, clinging. They ripped through the webbing, her costumed chest bursting into open air, never feeling more fragile, more thin and insubstantial. Janice worked hard to keep to only her hard, heavy breathing—her exhales seemed to wail out of her as the symbiote pulled her costume apart, tearing it open to expose lush, full breasts inside their bra. Even that felt raw, vulnerable, sensitive—like it was more than bare skin, like it was exposed nerves. She'd never felt so naked. The tendrils withdrew, pulling down her body like fishing hooks and trailing the rent clothing with them. All but two, circuiting under into her bra with that teasing, sadistic ease. Her nipples were enormous, great round circles of muted pink that hardened through tightly clinging nylon. Flat, thin roots scraped at the erect bumps, making them grow alarmingly, puckering out into engorged stubs. The symbiote was playing with her. A new hardness, thicker and rougher than before, rubbed against her sensitive womanhood. It felt like leather, raw leather, coarse and frayed. Her clit emerged from its hood instantly, throbbing as the sizable heft of the symbiote came into contact with it. It must have been a goodly portion of the symbiote's mass, and now it was undeniably phallic. Janice whimpered and breathed harshly, feeling completely frustrated, unable to escape the crude caress as it raked against her pussy. Her clit twitched in response to the gross motions, her juices churning inside her, escaping down her thighs. A new whip of it—thick and girthy—slapped between her breasts, inched up her clavicle, slow, elephantine. It was covering her with a thin coat of itself—she could feel the splotchy syrup of it rolling on her arms and shoulders like a layer of sweat—but there seemed to be more of it, always more. The whip, the tentacle... the cock... approached her mouth like a hissing cobra. It had formed into a mean approximation of Spider-Man's cock, even a spot of white at the tip to insinuate the piss-slit. And it was covered with her glistening juices. Janice opened her mouth. It plunged into her throat, pausing only to let her taste her own arousal. As Janice obediently sucked, she felt the symbiote shake as if in sadistic laughter. All but the cock, which held still, expecting her to piston her mouth on it. And she did, taking it to the root before pulling her lips back enough to have room to jack on it, feverishly pumping the cock with her hand and milking the length in her mouth. With just its cockhead in her mouth, she went crazy for it, sucking and whipping her tongue all over it. Spit dribbled from her mouth and down her chin. Her body was on fire; she knew the symbiote was ready too. It slid between her juicy labia lips, but too much of it, too thick to penetrate her. Frustrated, it pulled away, more of its wire-like tendrils gripping the folds of her lips with a tinge of exasperation. Now it pulled them out, stretching her cunt lips out of the way, and the second cock shoved into her pussy again. It was thick, a tight fit, but Janice managed to take it. The symbiote seemed to beam with joy. Janice could feel its perverse pride in abusing her pussy so. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Janice heard distantly, and wondered if it was Spider-Man and Arana before realizing it was the symbiote. She liked its thinking. The symbiote rocked itself like a man, fucking its thick shaft past her hands down her throat. She drove her hands into its mass, stretched between cunt and mouth in a white spider-shape—it was herself she was groping more often than not. But she also felt the symbiote, its being, heavy and engorged like a scrotum filled to bursting with a pent-up load of cum. Only this ball-bag she didn't have to worry about being too rough with. She fervently cupped its heft, rolling the thick slime between her fingers, warming it, making it hot. Thinning it out and spreading it over her flesh, massaging it into her breasts, her buttocks, spreading the blissful heat to her whole body. It was like wearing a Jacuzzi, bathing in a massage... And the symbiote worked itself deeper and deeper into her cunt, reaming her out as she clenched on it, trying to hold it tight. But she could do nothing to slow her own brutal reaming. She just sucked obediently as it shoved itself into the heated depths of her tortured pussy. Come for me, she thought desperately, come inside me, fuck me forever... The symbiote could hear her, could feel what she was doing to herself, how she was teasing it. Every time she pinched her taut breasts, she would let out a low, animal moan into its violation of her mouth, shuddering violently. Her excitement was contagious, or she was feeling its excitement. She could feel it oozing down her body like an erect cock spouting pre-cum, trickling in solid lines where her hands couldn't reach. God, she could feel it probing into her ass... Be my whore, the symbiote demanded. Yes! Bear my spawn! Yes! Come! YES! It could hold back no longer. All over her nubile body, the symbiote quivered, so hard that Janice's stroking hands felt like they'd been shocked. The first spewing stream shot into her pussy; more rich, thick fluid poured down her mouth. The feel of it sent a series of blissful shocks through Janice. She was surprised to find herself climaxing, overpowered by the sensation. Her pussy exploded, blasting her cream around the pistoning rod of the symbiote—it eagerly devoured this proof of their bond. Swallow! Still, the symbiote 'came,' turning liquid, pushing itself into Janice's eager swallowing. She gurgled and choked as she took it all, eagerly, wantonly. Until there was nothing left to take. A hot glow spread out from her soaked cunt and into every tingling nerve in her body. Janice looked down at her body. She was covered by the symbiote, inside and out, totally naked save for the body paint that itself only partially covered her—moving and writhing to uncover stretches of her skin, as a river would occasionally flow around a stone. Sometimes running over it, sometimes not. She watched her bare breast, felt it tingle as the symbiote ran over it, then gasped as it was freed again, cool air bracingly caressing it in pointed contrast to the symbiote's warm embrace. It was just as she had asked. The symbiote was fucking her, forever. She looked down to see a member standing out proudly from her waist—the spider-cock the symbiote had formed before, now at her disposal. It was stiff and hard, the knob twitching with abundant desire. The symbiote wanted to fuck alright. She could feel its wicked lust joining her own. Janice took the prick in her fist, jerking it, making it harden up for a good fucking. Beside her, Spider-Man and Arana were still going at it. Janice watched his cock delving into her pussy. She wondered if she should indulge herself and watch him come inside her, knowing it would rise again in a minute or two. She wanted to fuck him, of course—didn't want to wait. And Arana—Janice so wanted to see that red pubic hair of hers tangled with the matte black symbiote covering her own pussy. It would be such a satisfying sight. She'd just have to fuck them both. And why wait? Why wait a minute? That's it, Arana. Janice's breathing was a hoarse, pleased grunt as she crept up behind the aroused girl. Just relax your little cunt and take him, because I want you too. And I've got a lot of cock that needs some of your precious fucking. That's it, open that sweet pussy up, because there's about to be a lot less room in there... *** Earth-617 "Go ahead," Felicia said. "This is the breaking point, right? There's swinging, there's swapping, and then there's knowing your husband got another girl pregnant. So—before he gets back—let's just settle up. I'm not gonna stand in your way. Hell, getting Peter to stay with me because I have his kid, even though he loves you, I might as well be a fucking supervillain again—" "Hardy," Mary Jane said, "shut up." She stood, walking a few paces on unsteady legs toward Felicia, then she turned back around and paced. Kaine watched her move almost the entire breadth of Felicia's apartment, her face contorted in conflict, then she turned back around and walked back to Felicia, enough of the consternation buzzed away for her to sit down beside her. She took Felicia's hands and pulled them into her lap. "You're pregnant," she said. "Yeah," Felicia agreed. "I think Peter came so much in my mouth that some of it just had to end up in my womb. You had the right idea, Red: spit." "You are pregnant," Mary Jane repeated. "Don't sound so surprised. Guess one-a-day pills aren't much of a match for radioactive sperm..." "Felicia." MJ squeezed Felicia's hands hard. A lot more strength than Felicia would've given a Muggle credit for. "You do... want our help, right, you want us to be a family? Mommy and daddy and... Aunt Mary Jane?" "...I kinda figured you for a half-mom. I'm definitely only going to be half a mom. In fact, is it too late for me to be a vodka aunt?" "Felicia Hardy," Mary Jane said breathlessly. "How could you think... this doesn't change anything. No, no, this changes everything, but you're still a part of this family, your baby's a part of this family... I mean, if that's what you want to do about it. Go through with it. You don't have to, of course, we could—" "No," Felicia said, and it was too harsh, too adamant. And they both knew why. It wasn't that Felicia didn't believe in abortion. It was just that this might be all they had left of him. Kaine broke the suddenly fraught silence. "So is she going to talk about cum anymore? Because I was really only here for that." "He's being sarcastic," Mary Jane explained. "It's like what Peter does, only not funny," Felicia replied. "Or like what you do, only not pregnant," Kaine retorted. "You can't even get pregnant, Kaine, shut up!" "Actually, Peter got pregnant once," Mary Jane said, "so..." "He doesn't even have anyone to get him pregnant, though." "I can't be in a relationship," Kaine said. "It's just like with Parker. Too dangerous. If my enemies ever found out about her—if my life ever caught up with us and I couldn't protect her—the pain of that would far outweigh the misery of being alone." "You know Peter's dating me and Mary Jane, right?" Felicia needled. "I'm aware." "Pretty sure he had a threesome with Gwen too." "If they did, it wasn't with me," Mary Jane said. "Maybe it was with Norman," Kaine suggested. Mary Jane threw a cushion at him. "Obviously, I'm going to look after the kid, make sure nothing happens to him, protect him from... well, having you three as parents." "I'll make a great mom!" Felicia said defensively. "I almost adopted an African kid like, three times!" "I'm not changing any diapers, though," Kaine insisted. "So don't even ask." "No one did." "Not my damn kid. I didn't have a threesome with anybody. Unless, of course..." "Kaine," Mary Jane began, "you know you can protect us just as well from an apartment you're paying for, right?" Kaine held up his hands. "I'm just gonna go pick up What To Expect When You're Expecting. Since there's no baby shit involved there, I'm fine with it." But that was not what Kaine was planning as he left the apartment. Peter was gone and the Parkers had a baby on the way. It was more important than ever that he protect them. Far more important than his soul.