Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11451378.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Spider-Man:_Homecoming_(2017)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Parker/Tony_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, handsfree_cumshot, cum_in_clothes, Forced_Masturbation,
      Public_Masturbation, Dirty_Talk, Begging, Clothed_Erection, Daddy_Kink,
      Erotic_Electrostimulation, Sounding, Sensory_Deprivation
  Collections:
      Anonymous
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-26 Updated: 2017-09-21 Chapters: 2/? Words: 7075
****** Overkill to Overcome ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     Tony truly did equip Peter's suit with everything. Or at least
     everything a teenage boy could possibly want. "Karen" exposes Peter
     to recently updated features in his spider-suit as well as a few...
     secret recordings.
Notes
     For my fanfiction bae
***** Chapter 1 *****
Peter took a moment to stretch in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his
window.  He had no plans and no homework he cared to actually do.  He wouldn’t
explicitly say he was procrastinating, but somehow he’d spent most of a lazy
Saturday trying to be useful around the apartment. After several attempts to
help his aunt do everything from cooking to cleaning, only to get in the way of
her ongoing chores, he finally decided to just throw on his newest suit and do
what he knew best: Friendly, neighborhood Spider-man business.
Which he’d wanted to do all morning.  He just enjoyed pretending there was more
to his life than fighting crime and waiting on attention from Tony Stark.
He perched on his windowsill, keeping an eye out for any onlookers that might
notice him scaling the side of his building.  Though, with his heart not truly
in the task, for once, he took whatever distraction came his way.  Like
selecting the tiny lock on his display that he's never noticed before.
"This mode is age restricted," Karen intones as Peter asks about a little lock.
The lock enlarges and shoots to the center of his field of vision. The
periphery of his sight goes hot pink and there's an audible sigh that's not
Karen's voice.  
 
Karen said, "State your birthdate."
"You don't know my birthdate?"
"To unlock age restricted content, state your birthdate," Karen responds.  She
waits silently as Peter considers and after thirty seconds, the lock shrinks
back into a corner of his display and his vision loses the pink hue.
"I do know your birthdate," she finally says. She states the actual day, month,
and year.  Indicating his ripe old age of fifteen and Peter sighs.
"When will I have access to the age restricted content?"
"Whenever you state a birthdate that indicates your age is eighteen or above."
"So, when I'm eighteen, I can unlock more power?"
"Power is not hidden behind the Cherry Picker Protocol."
"I... see," Peter says. His mind boggling at the name.  Every other guard,
lock, and protocol in his suit's programming had indicated Mr. Stark's sense of
humor about his age.  Training Wheels, Baby Monitor... He'd even found out his
parachute was called "Rock-a-Bye, Baby."
Peter wonders what picking cherries might indicate. Nothing related to age, he
assumes.  He asks Karen to select the lock, again.  The sigh seemed erotic,
once he focused on it.  The hot pink enticing.  Even the lock seemed to have an
almost heart-shape to it.  He's no expert on what Mr. Stark might be into, but
everything about the suspicious, little icon seemed to indicate... porn?
Peter stares at the lock as it spins slowly in place. "Can you tell me what is
hidden behind the lock, Karen?"
"I cannot."
"Apparently, you can tell me what isn't there."
There's a pause before Karen responds, "That was a mistake. I will not make it,
again."
"Karen!"
"Mr. Stark would like for you to indicate your age as eighteen before unlocking
these features.  He has also prevented your friend from hacking into it."
"Why haven't I noticed the lock, before?"
"These features were recently uploaded to your suit from Avengers
headquarters."
"When?"
"This morning at 3:45am."
Peter sits down at his desk.  Thinking.  Of course, he'd gotten dressed to
fight crime.  Stop a few bad guys from nabbing purses.  Swing from a few
lampposts.  Run across rooftops.  ...but the lock is too much of a mystery for
him to ignore.  He can just picture himself trying to focus on a fight when the
icon is still right in front of his face.  Tempting him.
"Alright Karen, one more time," Peter sits up at his desk.  Attentive because
this -might- work. "Select the lock icon."
Again, the erotic sigh.  High enough in pitch to seem feminine but perhaps a
man's voice if he were right on the edge of...  Oh.  Oh jeez it actually sounds
like his own voice.  Peter's confusion mounts. Why would any features uploaded
to his suit at four in the morning be hidden behind his own voice during...
"Karen," Peter takes a deep breath. "Did Mr. Stark remove the Baby Monitor
Protocol, like I asked?"
"Yes, Peter."
Peter sighs.  God, he's been such a gullible idiot with this duplicitous,
obnoxious billionaire... friendship.  "...what did he replace it with, Karen?"
"Baby Monitor Protocol was replaced with the Heart Rate Monitor Protocol."
"That doesn't sound too bad... I mean, at least he's not taking videos,
anymore."
"Whenever your pulse reaches an elevated state, your blood pressure can trigger
a video recording to be made via your suit's eye sockets and your spider
drone."
Peter sat in stunned silence for a few minutes.  The lock minimized to the
corner of his vision. Voice quaking with nerves because he already knew what
he’d see, Peter asked, "Karen... can you show me a video of myself at three
a.m. today?"
A window appears. A virtual rectangle that hovers just in front of Peter as if
he could reach out to touch it.  An image of him, recorded from slightly above
eye-level, fades into view.  He’s seated at his desk in only boxers, which were
around his ankles. He’s busy stroking himself with his right hand.  The tugging
harsh and furious.  The left toys with his smartphone, flipping from image to
image or video to video. He remembers exactly -who- he’d gotten off to via
pictures from news articles and his own stealthily recorded media.
Without instruction, Karen zooms in closely and his own, panting voice seems
closer to Peter's ears.  "Fuck me.  Ah, harder!  Please?  Ah, it feels... so...
fucking... ah..."
The image then pans around to his face. Moves in closely.  Focuses
uncomfortably long on his lips.  "Karen, why are you moving around so much?"
"This file was manually modified from Avengers Headquarters during recording."
"Meaning... someone watched me!?!?  During!?!?"  Peter exclaimed.  Jumping from
his chair. The video follows him.  Still taking up a majority of his sight. He
wasn't sure if someone watching it during the act was any better than them
viewing it later... it just felt so... wrong.  Like perhaps his observer could
have been decent enough to virtually cough to grab his attention.  To stop him
like a respectful roommate… but instead, they’d listened to him beg to be
fucked and followed up by staring at his trembling lips for a full minute and a
half.
The video continues to play. The camera drawing back to focus on his sweating
chest and torso.  Peter blushes with shame as he sees how frothy his precum is
along his right hand as he beats himself raw.  God, his dick always aches for
hours after a good wank and he could finally see why.  He's so rough with
himself.  Dreaming of being bent over and plowed by someone bigger than
himself.  Cockier.  Less likely to care how good it is for him and just engulf
his tinier body with their own lust.
It dawns on him that the suit must have seen him do so much.  Especially if -
wearing it- was never a requirement. "Karen, how did you know my heart rate if
I wasn't actually -in- the suit."
"Spider-scan."
"How often do you scan me???"
"Constantly. Mr. Stark wanted to put a microchip inside you but Happy advised
against it as a possible breach of trust between you two."
"Breach of trust!?  And he thinks it's okay to watch me jack off??" Peter
stomped around his room. A vulgar hand-motion illustrating his words.  He feels
frantic.  Angry.  Completely unsure what to do with all this energy.  Fuck.
 His heart rate was probably climbing.  Would Tony Fucking Stark watch him rip
the suit to shreds and shove it in a trash can?  ...not that he could actually
do that to Karen.  He even felt guilty thinking about it.
Karen sighed.  This one not as erotic as his own recorded whimper.  The video
clicked off and the tiny lock maximized on its own. "Indicate a birthdate that
would make you over the age of eighteen, Peter."
Aggravated and snippy as ever.  "June 23rd, 18freaking12!"
"Thank you, Peter," she said as the lock clicked open and a menu appeared.
                                     Media
                                  Stimulation
                                    Upload
Peter asks Karen to select the first option.  The menu minimized as another
window appeared.  A video.  Oh jeez.
Tony stark stares just below the camera.  Silent as he watches.  A glass in his
hand, held halfway up to his face and swirled gently. Peter stares back.
 Feeling immediately free to finally drink in the man's face without
interruption or shame. Tony has always been one of the most handsome men
Peter’s ever known and his cheeks heat up as he watches the man finally sip
from his lowball glass.
"Enhance voice recognition," Tony murmurs as he watches with rapt attention.
Soon, Peter can hear the murmuring under his breath broadcast as moaned words.
"Fuck... ah... Mr. Stark, please..."
He watches Tony smirk ever so slightly as he lifts his drink again, brow
perking in amusement. Tony silently watches and Peter can hear his own panting.
 Can hear the slickness of his hand sliding along his cock.  Tony licks his top
lip. Bites his bottom one.  Asks, "Can you pan around to see what's on his
phone screen?"  
Peter blanches as he imagines the spider-drone circling him to focus on the
mostly mundane video footage of Tony Stark sitting silently in the backseat of
a moving car.
Eyes focused vaguely ahead as he lectures Peter on something barely related to
crime-fighting or science, Tony is peaceful in the image.  Of course, Peter had
muted the secretly recorded video.  Instead, he imagined Tony gently describing
the way he wanted to fuck the boy.  None-too-gentle fucking.  Just peacefully
delivered.  Blithely stated intentions to wreck the fifteen year old at his
earliest convenience.  Perhaps as soon as they returned to Avengers
headquarters.
Peter had always adored Tony Stark's voice and there was no lack of footage of
him preaching about his own genius, his own heroics, or his own empire... but
there was something enticing about getting off to the few moments Peter had
secretly recorded on his own. Footage of Tony calm and pensive.
"Back to his face..." Tony murmured.  He'd switched from sipping his drink to
all out gulping it down.  He was leaning closer to the camera.  Then, suddenly
his eyes met the lens.  Peter, startled, jumped back.  Tony smiled into it.
 "I'm thinking that because I'm watching you... and have seen a bit of you
before, it's only fair that I share, at this point."
A robot arm swung into frame to tip a bottle over Tony's glass as he held it
up.  The man chugged the glass down and immediately held it up to be refilled.
The robot complied.
"Before, you had a thing for Captain America, I think it was," Tony said,
leaning back in his chair, finally.  He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.
 Winks. "But I see you've finally come to your senses."
Peter realized he'd gotten closer to orgasm on the video feed Tony was
watching.  "Fuck me.  Harder!  Please?  Ah, feels... so... fucking... ah..."
He blushes hard as he suddenly remembers what comes next.  A withering cry of
"Fuck me, daddy!"  
He's mildly amused by the way Tony's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.  What
a pleasure it is to shock a man that's done and seen practically everything.
"Daddy?  Oh, aren't you a treat," Tony chuckles as he leans forward to slide
out of his top and holds the garment out to the robot arm. Peter has seen the
man topless, before. His naked chest, cradling the arc reactor is as much a
part of his brand as anything else about him.  But it’s interesting to see the
man casual and in motion with it off. Tony smiles into the lens, again.  
"Now, you and I both know this has to be our little secret.  I've deleted every
video I've found where you're... indisposed.  I also had to get rid of one of
your friend, Ned.  He -really- likes that mask."
His tone was almost business-like.  One step away from how he always addressed
Peter.  Like the kid was just some menial employee he barely had time to train.
At least he didn't seem poised to intimidate or even instruct.  He was just
tipsy and rather jolly.  A side of Tony Stark that Peter had seen in various
interviews and tv clips throughout his life... but had never realized he'd get
to meet.  Mr. Stark seemed... playful.  A half smirk tweaking his mouth to the
right in the most enticing way.
“I just wanna make you feel good, daddy,” Peter blushes to hear his own voice,
again. He didn’t even realize he was that chatty while getting off.  
He watches Tony perk a brow at the screen beneath the camera.  Grin.  Take
another sip of his drink. The older man then shrugs and, for a second time,
gulps down the full glass.  At least the robot arm doesn’t appear for a refill.
 With a much broader grin, the man drops the heavy glass onto his desk with a
sharp thump.  He winks into the camera. “Well, if you insist.”
Tony stands.  His balance unaffected by his recent drinking. There’s a mild
flush to his cheeks, but nothing near the red-faced stupor Peter witnessed in
one of his most belligerent neighbors.  
Tony shakes his head lightly as Peter begins to all out moan.  Tony snickers,
“Aunt May must be out for the night.”
Peter blushes.  It was true.  His aunt had a… friend she visited from time to
time.  Whenever she was away, he did tend to let go.  The sloppy sounds of his
own lubricated fingers sliding up and down his length in the video Tony watched
was enough to get his cock hard beneath the spider-suit.  Embarrassed by his
predicament, and by Tony’s attention to the recording, Peter didn’t know what
to do.  Shame had always made him harder.  More eager to get off.
The only encouragement he needed in order to fist himself to completion right
then and there was a stern word from Tony.  Playful or not.
“Are you happy to see Daddy’s cock, baby?” came Tony’s voice. He had already
undone his belt and unbuttoned his trousers.  His thick erection was still
laying against his thigh.  Pulling against the leg of his pants.  Peter flushed
underneath his mask.  “I know what a slutty little thing you are.  Don’t
pretend you aren’t excited to see me getting hard for you.”
Tony strokes himself unabashedly through his grey trousers.  Then, he reaches
in.  Revealing himself to the camera even as his own eyes remain glued to his
image of Peter on his own screen.
Peter hears himself pant as he leans forward in his seat.  His hips move of
their own volition.  How on Earth had he ever survived until the moment Tony-
fucking-Stark revealed his cock to him?  What had he ever daydreamed about?
 How had he ever gotten off.
Tony runs manicured fingers down his length.  Teasing himself and by extension
teasing the boy watching the video.  Peter couldn’t believe the man’s pale cock
was straining and blue-veined just from seeing him stroke himself.  He had a
passing thought about the kind of pervert Tony must be.  To get so aroused at
the thought of a 15 year old calling him Daddy.  ...but the man’s perversion
would obviously serve them both well.
Peter twitched hard beneath the spider-suit.  Wondering if Karen knew he was
leaking into the boxers he wore underneath.  God, he’d blow a load before he
ever undressed, at this rate.
Tony leans forward and the window Peter watches splits. One side is Tony Stark
stark, half-dressed and casually stroking himself.  The other side is a wider
shot of Peter Parker with his hand clenched around his throbbing cock, holding
a phone that’s visible to the silent, Spider-drone.
He calls out.
“Daddy,” moaned repeatedly in rapid succession as Peter stands to hump into his
hand, leaning over his desk as his hips pumps forward. Desperately stabbing
through his clenched fist as he swipes to a photo of Tony Stark in full, though
battle damaged, Iron Man regalia with only his face revealed. He’s embarrassed
by where Tony has panned to.  Glances over to watch the man’s face as he
realizes his ‘daddy’ is only responding with an impressed head nod.  He’s
pretty sure the man is focused on the highly decent view of his own face on
Peter’s phone.
Peter can hear himself moaning. Practically sobbing. Groaning. The underside of
his desk and part of his wall are suddenly splattered heavily. He can hear the
sloppy spray hitting both surfaces. Jesus, christ!
Peter then cringes as he sees himself, post-orgasm, standing up straighter and
picking up his phone.  Refocuses on the unmistakable image of Tony Stark
smiling from ear to ear, filled with delight, as he watches Peter kiss his own
phone screen. Soft and gentle like a lover.  Fuck.  He hears himself -thank-
it.  Calls it ‘Daddy’ out loud.  He’s mortified.
Tony’s eyes meet the camera, again.  “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest thing?  Daddy
owes you a show, don’t I?”
He leans forward, again.  The window widens as the image of Peter Parker fades
away.  Tony only has eyes for the lens as he stands back up and fucks his hips
forward.  “Do you want Daddy to show you how good it feels to see you get off?”
The man’s strokes are slow, deep, and sure.  Nothing like Peter’s frantic snaps
against the tight circle of his fingers.  Tony winks into the camera.  “Is this
what you want from Daddy?  Soft and seductive?”
Tony bites his bottom lip.  Moans as he picks up the pace.  He’s hips still
gyrate enticingly with every stroke.  Strokes that are sure to drag his cock
along Peter’s inner walls if he were buried deep in the boy’s virgin ass.
 Peter can’t stop himself from sighing with want.  He wants this. The faster
strokes.  The strokes that will beat against his prostate. Make him leak.
 ...or so he imagines.
“...or do you want this, little boy?  A grown man holding your narrow hips and
forcing himself deeper?  Harder?”  Tony has let his bottom lip go and he can
hardly close his mouth between works.  Apparently it’s not just a tempo he
assumes Peter might like. He loves it, himself.  Moaning with abandon as a
drizzle of clear precum dangles from the end of his blushing cock. 
“God, baby,” he says in the tone of a compliment.  Tony’s eyes close.  “You’ve
gotten daddy all worked up.  This won’t last long.  Your tight little ass is
gonna make me cum.  Do you like being fucked?  Like this?  Like you’re all I’ve
ever wanted?”
Just as Peter had in the video, Tony uses his free hand to clench the edge of
his desk.  He hangs his head forward where Peter can’t see his face.  His cock
drips white pre as he shudders.  His voice trembles as he speaks again.  “Baby,
it feels so damn good.  Knowing you’re getting off, too.  You’re hard, aren't
you?  Seeing me lose control thinking about fucking you?  Touch yourself.”
Peter pants as he simply reaches between his still clothed legs to grab the
bulge between his thighs.  His cock has grown up against his belly.  He can
feel the moisture against his navel.  God, he feels like he’s never been so
hard, before.
As his hand clenches around his cock, he hears Tony Stark’s voice in his head.
 Definitely not the version of Tony jerking off in the video he’s viewing.
 “Good boy.” it intones as the suit immediately clenches around his cock.
 Peter cries out.  Without his help, his hands shoot to his side. Held at his
sides as if clamped down by magnets or even gripping fists.
Without another touch from his own fists, Peter’s cock his suddenly cocooned in
warm, wet… gel?  He looks down, the bulge around his cock larger as the cock
swells with moisture.  The pocket of fluid slides up and down his cock and
Peter Parker can’t help but fuck up into the gripping pocket of… whatever it
is.  He cries out, beneath the mask.
“I hope you’re close, little boy.  I want us to cum, together.  I want you to
say my name, again.  I want to hear you beg me to cum inside you.”
“Fuck me, Mr. Stark!  Fill me up, Daddy. Please!”  Peter cries.  Hoping it’s
good enough despite knowing Tony cant hear him.
“That’s it, baby.  Daddy’s close,” Tony groans as the constant drizzle of thick
precum gives way to him blowing his load clean across the desk he’s perched at.
 He shoots hard and far for a few pumps before a dollop finally lands directly
on the lens he’s been looking into.  Peter can no longer see him clearly
through the dripping fluid but he can hear Tony.  “Ahhhh… baby, you’re so tight
around Daddy’s cock.  I couldn’t help it.  I hope you got off, with me.”
Despite Peter barely having stimulated himself before the suit took over with
it’s gel-like ministrations, he’s already close.  He’s already crying beneath
the mask and leaning back in his desk chair as he fucks against seemingly
nothing.

“Thank you, daddy!  I’m so close.  I’m so… God, daddy I’m going to…!" 
And Peter spills into the spider-suit.  His cock spurting hard and fast beneath
the reinforced fabric.  He’s almost sad he can’t see the moisture seeping
through as he looks down.  The jelly like substance sucks at the head of his
cock, making him twitch and writhe as he becomes overstimulated.  
“Karen, no… stop!” Peter begs.  The suction continues, lightly, then. He
realizes the suit is cleaning his cock. Polishing away sweat, pre, and semen.
 What an amazing… feature for Tony to include.
He leans back in his seat.  Limp and boneless from one of the hardest orgasms
of his life.  When he finally focuses on the window, again, the image of Tony
Stark is gone.  Replaced by a simple question in blinking text.
“Upload Recording?”
Peter shudders.  Imagining what Tony might make of seeing the suit jerk his
teen cock off until he cums inside of it.  Imagining what Tony might make of
him begging Karen to stop once he’d gotten off.
“Yes,” Peter says.  Selecting the option before the question disappears and a
tiny upload bar appears in the corner of his line of site.  Tony should at
least know his recent “gift” was appreciated, right?
***** Chapter 2 *****
His heart rate wouldn't go down.  Even as he crawled back into his window, shut
it, and stretched out on his bed, Peter felt his chest thrumming with the
exertion and adrenaline from his last fight. He hadn't expected to be pitted
against so many guns.  Thankfully, Karen protected him. The suit blocked every
bullet without him needing to pay attention, though it was hard to look away.
 Together, he and Karen webbed every tiny, cylinder of death that came his way.
 Breathing heavily, he'd finally gotten to tie the criminals down and signal
the police.
Karen really could do everything! He'd thanked her multiple times on the way
home. She answered in a shy, blushing sort of way. Picking up a few of his
personality quirks to mirror back to him when she thought it appropriate.
Peter lay on his bed, breathing heavily as he tried to relax. He knew Mr. Stark
was likely watching him, by now.  The late hour.  The elevated pulse.  Yes,
Tony was probably sitting in his lab with a lowball glass full of something
that would burn Peter's little throat.  He wondered if Mr. Stark was expecting
a show.  Did he already have a hand half down his pants?  Did he tease himself
in anticipation?
The thought of a rich genius desiring him was enough to warm Peter's blood.
Without him asking, Karen made a suggestion. "Would you like to activate The
Cherry Picker protocol?"
"Uh.. yeah," Peter whispered back to her.  The idea that the suit was about to
bring him off, again, hardened him fully.  He reached down to rub his hand down
the line of his bulging cock.
"Would you like to experience the coolest thing I can do?" Karen asked.  Voice
cheery. Peter giggled.  He knew she wasn't "real" in most people's sense of the
word, but he loved that she seemed to enjoy being a dork, just like him.  A
perfect friend.
"Of course!" Peter chirped back.
"I should ask if you have any problems with restraints? Are you
claustrophobic?"
Peter's brow furrowed under his mask and he sits up. Neither of those things
sounded very appealing. "Um... I guess not?  To either? I think?"
Karen sighs. "Peter, this is about informed consent. In the BDSM dictionary on
Fetishliving dot..."
"Karen, fine. Stop," he hated when she started sounding like a search engine
A.I. "I do not have problems with restraints. I am not claustropho... wait...
BDSM!?"
"Bondage and Sexual Mutilation.  Encompassing the various actions and results
that can come from sexual stimulation via spanking, degrading language, role
pl..."
"Ok, Karen! Got it! Mr. Stark taught you a BDSM thing?"
"Mr. Stark has programmed me for a wide variety of tasks."
 "Did he think I'd like a BDSM thing?" Peter asks. The confusion in his voice,
mounting. What was it about him that made Mr. Stark think he was a pervert?
 The spandex suit? Did the man have access to his internet history? Oh, God.
 Was it the rope? Like... what kind of kid thinks it's a good idea to create
sticky ropes and tie groan men to lampposts?  Is that what makes him look like
a freak to his only hero?!
"PETER," Karen shouts in his ears. "If you consent, lay back and let me help
you relax. Your heart rate is climbing, right now.  Take a chill pill, dude."
Peter scoffs at her turn of phrase and takes a deep breath.  Fine.  He can
relax. ...especially if Tony Stark is somewhere relaxing with him. He can only
hope.
"Okay, Peter, let's start by stretching out your muscles," Karen says as he
falls back onto the mattress. The suit begins to warm and undulate against his
skin. The suit seems to pull on his limbs, turning his foot without him moving
at all. Shaking out his shoulders while he's simply lying still. The pressure
kneading into his back already has him moaning. He tries to quiet down to keep
May from hearing them. Well, to keep her from hearing him... since she'd never
hear Karen, anyway.
"Now, lay flat on your back in the most comfortable position you can think of,"
Karen says as the suit begins to sag around him. The mask is still firmly in
place and Peter doesn't think to yank it off. Especially since it makes Karen
easier to hear. He spreads his legs and arms, slightly, every inch of him
feeling relaxed after the simultaneous, full-body massage. 
"Activating Sensory Deprivation Mode. Safeword: Pineapple," Karen intones
mechanically. The suit immediately stretches to encapsulate the entire bottom
bunk of Peter's bed with Peter attached. He lays in complete shock for a
moment. His back pressed to his clean sheets and his front compressed by his
morphed spider suit. He feels like he's taped to a table beneath a trash bag or
something equally weird. He can't hear anything. The subtle chorus of the
kitchen clock ticking, May's bedroom tv, and the walls of their old building
creaking are completely blocked out. He can breathe, but it seems like his
sense of smell is dampened. What happened to the lingering scents of sweat,
growing arousal, and that off-putting tang of teenage-boy-room?
He can't see, either. Blinking against the shuttered mask. More than everything
else, however, Peter can't fucking move.  He can't even wiggle a finger!
"Krrrbnnnwtffff," he tries to speak, but the mask is holding his lips together
for some reason.
"Oh, safe words are impossible when you're being held down.  Silly me," Karen
chuckles. "Hmmm... if you promise not to be mean to me, I can return your
ability to talk.  Oh!  And also promise not to talk once we start playing.
Okay, Peter?"
Peter has no way to indicate whether or not he agrees, but Karen does
eventually loosen the grip on his mouth. "Karen," he starts, sounding agitated
but trying to respect her request to not be mean. "This doesn't feel very good
and we should play a different game. Also, saying 'we' is kinda weird. You
know.  This isn't 'we' it's me."
"I apologize for not considering your personal feelings toward masturbation,"
Karen says civilly.
"No, that's not..." Peter sighs. "Can you untie me?"
"Ooooh, but Peter.  I didn't even get to show you the thing," Karen whines.
Peter knows her "emotions" are artificial, but he's still never felt good about
making Karen "feel" bad. 
"Okay, fine.  Just uh... show me the thing and then let me go," he says
grudgingly.
Peter lays still and silent in anticipation of "the thing."  Whatever it is. He
remains still and unable to focus on anything but his own thoughts. His five
senses all dulled to outside stimuli. He's almost fascinated by the suit's
ability to completely trap him.  Aches low in his belly at the idea that he
could someday be annoying Mr. Stark, himself, and then end up strapped to a
table by his suit.  Oh, perhaps a cold table.  Metal. His back trapped against
icy steel as Tony circles the table, berating him about some stupid stunt he's
pulled.
God, why is he daydreaming about being trapped and yelled at? Can he just blame
Karen for that one?
Just as his frantic thoughts begin to veer elsewhere, he feels a featherlight
touch on the head of his cock. Peter sucks in a breath and freezes... not that
he could have moved anyway. Tense and confused, he whispers. "Karen?"
"Yes, I'm here. It's me... or the suit, rather. I don't really consider myself
the suit, you know. You could totally stick me in a watch or a cellphone or
something sexy like a house," she says. She's attempting, Peter assumes, to
sound sexy herself. A little growl in her voice as she speaks the last four
words. Peter would grimace if he could truly feel his own face. He feels like
Karen must feel. A consciousness with no place.  Something that knows itself
but doesn't exist. No taste. No touch. No sight. No smell. Just a series of
ideas and, at least in her case, cyber-organic memories.
He supposes he'd feel more like Karen if that featherlight caress wasn't
intermittently teasing his cock.
"Do you like that Peter," she asks. Her voice low and still a little gritty.
"Do you like having your cock teased?"
Peter does grimace, then. "Karen, that sounds fucking weird coming out of you."
"Should I be more vague? Call it your member? Your stand? Your... You-know-
what's-it?" she asks as the light touch continues. Peter can feel his cock
beginning to dribble precum and the sensation is divine. He's nothing more than
a frantic mind and a hard cock. He never thought he could cum just from having
the tip of his cock barely touched, but he's growing harder and closer to
orgasm with each passing second. 
"No, I'm not asking you to nickname m...my p..penis," he stutters the words out
as something cold and hard presses against his cockhead. "Oh fuck, are you
going to stick something in there?!"
His body immediately wants to scramble backwards away from the cold metal
touch, but all he can do is lie trapped beneath the Spider-suit.
"It should bring you lots of pleasure!" Karen promises. Her voice
modulating more toward comforting confidante than sexy dominatrix. "Mr. Stark
took a lot of personal interest in designing Sensory Deprivation Mode. Some of
my Cherry Picker features are simply based on algorithms from the world's
internet users. Coming up with ways to pleasure you based on popular porn
consumption... but 48% of Sensory Deprivation Mode coding was hand-typed. He
cares about sticking this rod in your cock, Peter."
Peter would laugh if he wasn't under immediate threat of having something
shoved into his penis. He doesn't know how to feel about it. Does Mr. Stark
like sticking things in his own penis? Is this something normal people do?
Would he and/or Mr. Stark even be considered "normal people?"
The rod circles the tiny slit at the head of Peter's cock. He pants as it rolls
into the slit. Smooth, cold, and god-fucking-damn-it deliciously arousing. The
ball continues to roll through his cockslit. Precum making the passage easier
with each tiny movement. Peter moans.
"You want this baby," Karen asks just as the metal ball travels into his
cockhead. Despite the ball-tightening sensation, Peter simply can't take
Karen's voice.
"Karen, can you maybe... not talk... during this?"
"I'm sorry, Peter," she says as the ball-tipped rod pushes deeper into his
cock. She waits a few moments for Peter to stop moaning beneath the mask.
"Would you prefer the voice of Tony Stark?"
Peter's ears perk up at the thought. Can she imitate the man's voice? Would she
simply repeat anything he asked her to, if she can? "T... Tony?!"
"If you would like to have this SEXperience while listening to the velvet tones
of Iron Man, himself. Simply ask!" Karen says cheerfully. The rapid changes in
her inflection and other aspects of her voice show Peter that she's struggling
to find a way to appropriately communicate with him, anyway.
So, Peter does ask. Hell, he begs.  The rod travels a little further into his
cock and suddenly Peter feels as if his entire body is being set on fire.  If
fire felt like sex. "Karen, what was... AHHHuuuuuugh..." It happens, again.
This time more intensely. Perhaps even a little painfully, but the ache simply
can't override the pleasure. "Karen!  What exactly are you...
OoooooOOoOOoooh... fuck yeeeessss..."
Peter feels dizzy with lust by the time the last pulse ends. "Goddamnit Karen,
are you electocuti... Ahhh...oooh... Shiiiiiiiiiit...."
"Mister Stark on line one," Karen suddenly says as the previous pulse of
electricity ends. "I'll be offline until one of you reactivates me. Enjoy
ejaculating from your you-know-what, Peter!"
"Mister..." Peter breathes quietly. The rod still in the end of his cock but
unmoving and no longer shocking him toward orgasm. "...Stark?"
"Hi, Peter," Tony says with a chuckle. His disembodied voice as arousing to the
boy as his smell and appearance. "I'm guessing Karen is torturing you? ...not
that I hear you complaining."
Peter blushes beneath the mask.  Somehow, a recording of Tony jerking off is
nowhere near as personal as talking to him live with a metal stick hanging out
of his cock. He can't manage to speak in response. The stick pulls almost out
of Peter's cock and he moans at the sensation of the small rod sliding up his
urethra. 
"Oh, so you are still there," Tony laughs. "Just give me a moment to figure out
how to start a full manual override of your suit... and.... There."
The rod starts to slowly fuck itself in and out of Peter's cock. He immediately
starts crying from how good it feels. His voice still not managing to make
words around all the sounds of whimpering ecstasy. 
"That's a good boy," Tony coos into Peter's ear. Peter can't help but moan
louder at the praise. "Were you a fan of the electricity, baby boy?"
"Y... yes... yes sir," Peter whispers back.
"Not Daddy, this time?"
"No!  Yes I mean!  Always!!!" Peter responds too eagerly. His face heats up as
Tony chuckles, again. "Yes, daddy. It felt good."
"Do you like having your nipples toyed with?" Tony asks. His voice low and sexy
enough to make Peter's cock leak even more pre around the invading object that
won't stop slowly inching its way in and out of him. That thing moving inside
of him feels like a million orgasms constantly spilling from the tip of his
cock. He never knew the inside of his penis would enjoy so much pressure. So
much sensation.
"I've never had them played with... daddy," Peter responds. Gulping as he
imagines what questions about electricity and nipples are doing right next to
each other in a conversation. As expected, he feels shocks to both his nipples
and his cock. The pain is fucking exquisite. Like a healing bruise he can't
help but dig his fingers into. Like the relief of rubbing a sore ankle. Like an
aching knot in his shoulder loosening under the touch of a bored classmate on a
school trip. It feels like every delicious torture he's ever received and he
cums instantly, the rod pulling out of his cock as he spills thick and hot
against his own belly. It's as if his stomach had stopped existing until his
cum splattered against it. Now, he's a floating consciousness with a cock and
the lower part of a man's torso.
"One orgasm down..." Tony says, his voice filtered through a couple of low
moans. Peter could almost harden instantly at the idea that the man is touching
himself. "Want to see how many more we can wring out of you, baby?"
"Are you touching yourself?" Peter asks, suddenly. Sure, it's not important...
but knowing Tony Stark is jerking off to the sound or perhaps even sight of him
cumming would make him feel so lucky. So loved, in a way.
"Naughty boy," Tony growls. Peter hears a snap that could only be the man
sharply clamping his teeth shut as a threat. "...but no. I'm on an airplane
using overpriced wi-fi to get you off. I guess I could just whip it out since
it's technically my plane, but I do try to keep my pants on around strangers
and employees."
"D...do you want to touch yourself," Peter asks quietly. He doesn't know why
he's so fixated on the idea. 
Tony pauses. Peter can hear him taking a deep breath before he speaks. This
whisper even lower than the others. "What I want is to touch you, little boy."
Peter's cock twitches as if it's ready to return for more torture. "I want you
to touch me, daddy."
"Really baby?" Tony chuckles. His voice is barely a whisper. "Can you get hard
for daddy, again? Show him how much you need his touch?"
"I could if you talked to me," Peter ventures. He's not sure if the plane is
private. He's not sure if Tony Stark might be sitting directly next to someone
whispering about touching his little boy. Perhaps he doesn't even need Tony to
talk. His imagination supplying all the fantasy he needs to start feeling a new
ache of arousal in his cock.
"What would I even talk about?" Tony asks. Voice a little louder. More casual.
"Clean energy? Perhaps a speech on dismantling weapons operations? You know, I
give a mean lecture on profit analysis when coaxed."
Peter whines. "Mr. Staaaaaark..."
The same chuckle tickles at Peter's ears as Tony sighs and lowers his voice,
again. "I think you just want to hear how much I want to be there with you,
right now.  Stroking you. Teasing that pretty teenage cock back to hardness.
God, baby, would you let daddy suck you off?"
Peter whimpers. Picturing Tony Stark lowering his lips over his cock. Imagining
the back of the man's head bobbing at his crotch as he lies, trapped on his
bed. "Would... would you do... that? Oh... daddy."
"Of course I would," Tony says sweetly as if Peter only asked him to buy a new
toy or candy. "Anything for my little boy."
"You can't touch yourself, daddy?" Peter asks. He knows he's being reckless,
but his body is trembling, again.  As much as it can beneath the pull of the
suit and press of the mattress. "You're not alone, right now?"
Tony sighs. "I suppose the wifi still works in the bathroom."
Peter can hear the sound of a peaceful stewardess asking if Mr. Stark needs
assistance. He can hear the silence of First Class melting over into the bustle
of Coach. Children crying. Women talking. Men snoring. He can hear that his
"Daddy" is surrounded and the idea thrills him, somehow. What has he learned
about himself, today? He likes BDSM... or at least this part of it. He also
likes thinking about his "Daddy" jerking off in public. Thin, airplane walls
between his self-pleasure and a group of strangers.  Peter feels his cock pulse
to life as it struggles to twitch underneath the suit.
"Are you hard, again, baby?" 
"Yes, daddy."
The suit nudges against Peter's balls. Something that feels like a large rubber
ball massaging them momentarily before burrowing beneath them.
"Daddy!" 
"Yes, baby?"
"I can't... I mean, I've never... Is this going to my!??"
"Just a tease," Tony reassures him. "It's only there to tease you a bit. I'd
never let the suit take away the thing I've been dreaming about since the day
we met in your apartment."
"Dreaming? What?" Peter asks, his voice confused and layered by his arousal.
The nudging against his ass is... pleasant, but he can feel his pulse climbing
from fear that the ball will just pop inside of him just like the rod did to
the head of his cock.
"Nothing goes inside you until I can finally have you all to myself and claim
that sweet, virgin hole with this."
Suddenly Peter can see. It takes his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the fact
that they can see and a few more seconds to realize he's seeing what Tony sees.
A cheap, airplane sink, the smooth planes of a burgundy suit, and a raging
erection taken in hand and stroked eagerly. The boy moans loud and then manages
to quiet himself. God, if only May weren't home. "Daddy, you look so good!"
The image changes from looking down at his cock to looking up into the mirror.
Tony Stark, wearing a pair of sunglasses and completely buttoned up except for
his cock hanging out of his slacks, smiles into his reflection. "Thank you,
baby... let's see how many times I can get you to cum before I do."
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