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Ending At Beginnings Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2020-01-24 03:02:19 +0000 UTC
“Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, are you in here?”
Inside the automated laboratory, with its whirring waldos, equipment shifting like chess pieces, Peter really wished he had his spider-sense still. Reed Richards might know his way around all the automated processes of mixing chemicals and whirling centrifuges, but he felt like he’d be squashed at any moment. Then, rising above the hushed din of machinery in motion, he heard an electric trill.
“Peter, please. Tony. Let’s not stand on formality.”
Peter stood. It was Tony. Almost exactly Tony, except that he was vaguely translucent.
“Geez… Tony… it’s you.”
“Well, that’s a question for the philosophy majors,” Tony quipped. “Personally, I thought about turning myself blue, but that seemed a little too Obi-Wan.”
Peter found a stool to sit down on. “Maybe you could put a big H on your forehead.”
“Oh, deep cut. I can see why he liked talking to you so much.”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “He?”
Tony seemed to sit down across from him, only his stool didn’t exist until he was sitting down. Another hologram, of course. Peter looked around until he spotted an emitter high up in the corner. With that in play, this lab was a regular holodeck.
“The other me. Flesh and blood, not the remix,” Tony said. “Full disclosure: I had to go back to a memory download from pretty far back, about when you’d first become an Avenger. I know you, of course, but I don’t remember us being close friends.”
“Yeah, well—things went pretty sour.”
“I have files on that, but no actual recollection. I’m sorry for what he did to you. All I can say is that, scientifically speaking, under the same circumstances, I would’ve done the same—but I know I would’ve felt really bad about it.”
Peter waved a hand. “Old business. I don’t really want to talk about it. You don’t remember it and you’re not really the guy who did it.”
“Yeah. I suppose it’s all a bit time travel-y. ‘Would you get a beer with Hitler as a baby?’”
“I don’t drink,” Peter said diplomatically. “Anyway, I’m not the type to need closure on stuff. I want to talk to you about the Iron Spider suit.”
“Ah.” Tony nodded briskly. “I remember. That was in the works for a while. It was meant to be a surprise. Did you like it?”
“Yeah—not so much the part where you tried to use it to lock me down. It’s kind of put me off AIs. No offense.”
“None taken. You always struck me as the type who likes being alone in his own head. Me, I’m an extrovert. I love having a voice in my head to talk to. Probably would’ve gone all schizo if I hadn’t invented, well, me, eventually.”
Peter stood up, arms crossed, pacing a little. Tony’s stool, with him on it, slid over to keep up with him. Now you’re just showing off. “Things have gotten a little complicated. Basically, I’ve lost my powers. But I was thinking that with some modifications, I could use the Iron Spider suit the same way you—the fleshy you—used your Iron Man suit.”
Tony stroked his goatee. “That’d work in theory. It wouldn’t be able to pack as much punch as Iron Man—the thing was pretty much a wetsuit—but could we get you into fighting form against the Shocker? Absolutely.”
Peter held up a finger. “No Shocker jokes. How many times have you fought the Melter?”
“Uhh… my files are incomplete there.” Tony stood up. “Here’s the thing, though, kid. I’m not the only one with an out-of-body experience on the docket. Remember Ock riding you around like a Shetland pony?”
“Uh, no. That’s kind of how it works.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to remember that either. Another man wiping your butt… ihhh.” Tony picked some grit from his eye. “Point is, you were classified as a security risk. Don’t worry, I’m not going to detain you or anything, I just can’t hand out any Irontech to you.”
Peter felt his teeth grinding together. “Well, can’t you unclassify me?”
“No can-do, Parker. I’m not the real Tony. And if I were empowered to unilaterally make calls like that, I’d be another Ultron. Better facial hair, lots more mojo with the ladies, but another Ultron.”
“So you can’t help me,” Peter groaned. He turned on his heel. “Great. Thank you, Johnny Storm…”
The hologram rematerialized in front of Peter before he could leave the lab. “Whoa, whoa, hold your horses.”
“Don’t make me walk through you, Stark. It’d be awkward for both of us.”
“Yeah, that did take some getting used to,” Tony admitted. “According to CNN, you’re fighting a Trisentinel right now, so unless this ‘fake news’ thing I keep hearing about is really getting out of hand—“
Peter sighed. “Yeah. There’s another me. He has all my powers and he’s being Spider-Man. But I still have all my old experiences, all the memories, I’m cool under pressure—“
“It’s debatable if you’re ever cool.”
“Hey now.”
“Although I did like the black suit. I mean, just in terms of fashion, not—“
“Can you help me or not?” Peter insisted. “Because I’m telling you right now, I’m not going to every reserve Avenger who’s ever been and asking if he has some spare superpowers lying around. That’s not going to be my last act as an Avenger. So either you help me or—or I’ll do it myself.”
“Don’t reach for the Terrigen mist just yet.” Tony sat down, doing his spontaneous chair trick, but this time it ‘spawned’ halfway inside a microscope. He swore and pulled it into open air before sitting down. “Speaking as someone who’s literally had his issues backed up on disc and the cloud, why do you want this so bad?”
“With great power—“
“You don’t have power. No power, no responsibility. If it were me—“
“You’d hand the suit over to Rhodey and retire?” Peter crossed his arms smugly. “How’d that work out for you?”
“Shitty. I’m saying that I get it, Parker. It’s not that you crave adventure, it’s that you want to feel powerful. Not because you’re some sort of gloryhound, but because it’s better than feeling fearful or anxious or depressed… twenty other things you feel like when your psyche is fucked up beyond all recognition. I strap into the suit, the world makes sense. I make sense.” Tony’s eyes grew distant. “At least I did, back when I was non-binary. Wait, that came out wrong—”
“So you think I need therapy.”
“I’m saying being Spider-Man is your therapy. But there’s a point where coping mechanisms become a neurosis. Trust me, I’ve been to enough psychologists. I’ve even run Norton Antivirus.”
Peter snorted in amusement. “Okay. So what’s your solution?”
“Personally, I’ve deleted a few traumatic childhood experiences, but if that doesn’t work for you—well, who knows? But it’s better to know why you’re doing something than just assuming you’re in the right.”
Peter rubbed his sinuses. “You might be onto something there. I could always talk to MJ…”
Tony snapped his fingers. “Now, her I remember. Good call.”
Peter glared at him. “How much do you remember?”
“Just that some schmuck from Queens had a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model bunking with him. Made me want to reformat my hard drive.”
Peter threw his hands up. “Great. The hologram thinks my life is unrealistic.”
***
Felicia looked amazing in her Black Cat costume. Spider didn’t know if he’d say better than she did naked, because that was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, but her costume was halfway between body paint and lingerie—the sexiest sight imaginable that was still technically clothing. And with or without it, Felicia’s voluptuous body was incredible to behold.
Her high, perfect breasts were boldly exposed by her plunging neckline, flushed with excitement, her nipples hard through the scant covering of her costume. Her soft, graceful torso provided the perfect setting to the attention-grabbing jewels of her cleavage. Her costume adhered to belly and pelvis as if determined to display every perfect inch of her physique, down to her firm thighs and tapered legs. Obviously, her breasts were her defining feature, but her face was spectacular, and her ass amazingly shapely, a double dose of perfection as if her tits weren’t attraction enough. She looked exactly like the perfect fuck that she was—there was no other way to say it. Doing anything other than laying her seemed a little bit like a waste of time…
Spider watched as she unscrewed the corners of the air conditioning duct. According to the schematics she’d liberated, that was the weak point in Kingpin’s security. Through there, she could slip inside and open the door for him, whereupon Spider could lift several hundred pounds of loot out of his honor the mayor’s vault and distribute it to his supportive constituents, most especially Felicia Hardy and Peter B. Parker.
Maybe I should call myself Peter A. Parker, Spider mused. I’d come first in the phone book.
Felicia swiveled her hips unthinkingly as she unseated the duct cover and set it aside. The woman was pure sex, so of course she didn’t realize how seductive she was being. Or maybe she just didn’t care—thinking Spider might actually prioritize some shiny loot over the ass she showed off when she bent over.
“I’m in,” she cooed, already sounding a bit turned on. “Okay, Spider, I know how overprotective you get, but give me ten minutes before you assume I got caught and come charging in to rescue me.”
“Will do,” Spider said. “Kiss for luck?”
Felicia rolled her eyes. “You’re getting sappy. See you on the other side.”
“Not if I see you first,” Spider said.
As Felicia crawled into the duct on her hands and knees, he waited until she was halfway in—then he sprayed webbing in along with her.
“Spider!” Felicia cried, barely keeping her voice down to a larcenous whisper. “Jesus! Is this your goop? God, it’s in my hair!”
Kneeling behind Felicia in her ironic doggy style stance, Spider dug his fingers into her plump buttocks. Her costume clung so tightly to her body that he had to use his sticky fingers to pull it away from her skin—apropos.
He ripped the latex in either direction, letting Felicia’s round buttocks bulge through the assless chaps her costume now had. For a moment, he simply admired the sight. Her clit was prominent, a glistening red bud crying out for attention at the apex of her slit. Her inner folds were dark pink, all glossy with cream. He’d long suspected that it turned Felicia on to take things that didn’t belong to her. It turned her on even more to be taken herself. As he watched, a rivulet of her arousal dripped out of her and fell to the rooftop below.
“Christ, Spider, what are you doing? We’re in the middle of pulling a job!”
“You’re a dirty girl, Cat. What do you think I’m doing?”
Spider shoved his pants down to relieve his aching erection. Seeing that perfect ass of Felicia’s was actually making him a little dizzy with the sheer desire to fuck those sweet little holes and enjoy her abundant charms.
“Where do you want it, Cat? That tight little pussy is always good for a little fun—“ He ran his gloved hand up between her legs, trailing his fingers through her exquisite wetness, then up higher, over her slit to the wrinkled grommet of her asshole, the perfect tightness challenging him as he probed his wet fingertips against her anus—then withdrew, only circling around the rim of her asshole. “But I kinda like the idea of you doing this whole job still smarting from getting fucked in the ass. And you did want to be sodomized the last time we talked…”
“You… you choose,” Felicia murmured, her voice strained. Turned on. Orgasmic with submission.
Spider grinned. If he wasn’t hard already, the knowledge that Felicia had realized choosing to be his bitch would give her more pleasure than any other choice she could make—that’d have him stiff as adamantium.
A. Fuck her ass.
B. Fuck her pussy.
Comments
Shendude
Yummy.
