Contains: Cheating, Betrayal, Violence, Urine, Humiliation
Peter couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. For nearly a week, his spider sense had been acting up, pounding his head for seemingly no reason. Sleeping beside MJ helped, the ache stopped, but come the next morning it would start again.
“It’s stress from your Job, Peter, it has to be,” she told him late one night, rubbing his temples as he laid across her lap.
“It’s never been this strong before. It’s like something really bad is about to happen … or is already happening and I just can’t see it.”
She leaned down and kissed him deeply, pushing her tongue into his mouth. For a moment they were silent, and when separated, Mary suggested something to ease his mind.
Climbing into bed together, the headache stopped when MJ lowered her mouth over him. It had been days since they last fooled around, work had indeed been stressful, even for Spider-man, but almost as soon as they started, Peter erupted, bringing back the headache and making him feel even worse.
“It’s okay, baby, really,” she told him, spitting his load into a wad of tissue.
Ashamed of himself, he vowed to return the favor, quickly diving between her legs. Not surprisingly, she was already sticky and wet, her pussy drooling into his mouth as he eagerly lapped and swallowed. The taste was pleasant, muskier than normal, but New York had been hot recently.
“Mmm, how does it taste, bitch?” Mary Jane moaned, making Peter smile as she brought out her dominant side.
“I love it,” he mumbled back, the headache starting to fade as his erection returned.
It was late by the time they finished, and Peter had made MJ cum nearly half a dozen times; but when he asked one more for himself, she rejected him. Still in her dominant, mean roleplay, she had Peter masturbate for her, ending with his load squirting into the trash can. He loved it.
The next morning he awoke to an empty bed, and the same nagging headache. In the spider sense, he could almost hear what was wrong; sirens in the distance, a woman crying, the whoosh of wind, white noise, it was too much to make out. With Mary Jane likely returning home to her parents, or even out for breakfast, he knew he’d see her tonight.
Being the weekend, Peter didn’t need to worry about Mr. Jameson, his boss. Instead, he needed to find the source of the headaches, the reason his spider sense wouldn’t shut up. Slipping into his suit, he vaulted from the window, firing a web behind him and backflipping onto a nearby roof.
From this height he could barely see the city. Leaping and firing another web, he used the momentum to carry himself higher, sling-shotting onto the tallest nearby building. Scampering up its side, he peaked into a few windows, smirking behind his mask when a kid noticed him.
At the top, he could finally see enough to start his search. It wasn’t often he had to focus his abilities, but with the spider sense clouding his thoughts, he had no choice but to sit and listen.
It must look odd he thought, Spider-Man sitting cross-legged on top of an air conditioner unit, with his head down and arms crossed. Forcing the random images from his mind, ignoring the blinding noise, he began to pinpoint the disturbance. It wasn’t far, a few blocks. Someone was in danger, someone he knew.
Another blinding scream and Peter opened his eyes. It was MJ. He had actually heard her voice this time, not just in his head. Jumping from the roof, it took only a few seconds before he reached the alley.
Crawling over the edge of an adjacent building, his spider sense was nearly overwhelming, his head threatening to burst as he approached. Below him, Mary Jane was backing away from three large black men.
Normally, stopping a few thugs would be child’s play for him, but the headache had started taking its toll. Choosing not to fight, he shouted, getting their attention before firing his web at them, missing two and pinning the last against the wall, face first.
In response, they drew their guns and started firing. With his sense’s dulled, he barely had time to leap away before bullets hit brick. Scrambling through a broken window, he tried to focus his senses before making another attempt, but as he did, Mary Jane screamed.
With no time to think, he leapt from the window, straight down as he fired another shot of web, pinning the second thug to the ground before landing on him, knocking him unconscious.
“Don’t you move, bitch,” the leader threatened, using Mary Jane as a shield.
Dizzy, almost numb from the throbbing, Peter blinked away sweat as the thug held a gun to his girlfriend’s head. If he tried to save her with his web, he might miss again, and she could die; leaving them alone obviously wasn’t an option, so he did the only thing he could think of: talk.
“Hey, guys, kinda early for mugging don’t ya think?” he quipped, hoping the thug didn’t notice him stumble.
“One more step and the bitch gets it!” he shouted.
“Whoa, hey, it’s cool,” he said, catching himself as he stumbled backwards, “why don’t you let the Lady go, and I’ll go easy on you.”
The thug took notice of how wobbly Peter was, quickly raising his gun. It was now or never, and as the first shot missed, Peter countered with his web. It missed the gun entirely, instead striking his face, covering his eyes and nose.
Jumping forward Peter stumbled, but successfully grabbed the gun, easily tearing it from his fingers. A light punch to the cheek and the thug was unconscious, leaving Peter gasping for air.
“You … You stopped them,” Mary Jane said in shock, looking around at the three defeated men.
“Yeah,” he winced, closing one eye as he struggled to stay on his feet, “all in a days work.” Despite saving his girl and stopping the thugs, Peter’s headache had only grown worse.
“I never thought something like that would happen to an old man like me, hell I’m not that old – Parker! Get in here! Do you have those photos?” Jonah Jameson talked fast, and wanted results even faster. Peter wondered how his large mustache could stay on after it moved so much.
“N- No, Sir, I had a rough night-”
“Then what the hell am I paying you for?! If you’re not going to bring me pictures of Spider-Man then I’ll find someone else! You’re fired!”
Peter had barely moved before J.J shouted again.
“Wait – you’re not fired, I need photos of some new gang signs that have been popping around the city!”
“What the hell are you standing there for? Get to it! And while you’re out, get me new photo’s of that webbed freak, I’ve got a great new headline: Spider-Man fails to stop robbery – New gang makes millions!”
Peter hadn’t even heard about the robbery. Two days after saving Mary Jane, his headaches had only gotten worse. He found it harder to focus, and although he loved his girlfriend, it seemed like time away helped clear his mind.
“I’ll get right on it,” he finally answered, turning to leaving the office.
“Anyway,” J.J turned to the man beside him, “hot little bombshell, red hair, stopped me on the way home and told me she wanted me! Right there on the street, damnest thing!”
Peter paid no mind to his boss’ ramblings, instead he left for the stairs, heading up and onto the roof where he could be alone. Atop the Daily Bugle there was privacy, enough to change into his suit before he stepped to the edge, looking across the bay and studying the harbor.
Diving over the edge, he shot web onto the corner of a nearby building, swinging at full speed before launching himself high into the air. Wind rushed past he ears as his muscles flexed, twisting and contorting as he flipped before launching another web and making another swing.
It felt good being away from his apartment, perhaps it was the stress of the City that had started bothering him. He didn’t want to blame MJ on the headaches, but perhaps she wasn’t to blame, being a super hero was demanding after all.
Catching himself on a billboard, Peter studied the Docks below him. Workers moved back and forth, loading and unloading giant containers full of crates. Nearby, a large, neon green marking caught his eye.
A quick leap and he was there. It was a bright green swirl, like a hypnotist might use, only it had a distinct edge to it. The spiral rotated outward, ending with a sharp turn that ran through the center of the design.
Peter had never seen it before, but as he searched around the docks, he found more and more of them, all the same. Stopping at the final one, he withdrew his camera from a brown sling on his shoulder and began snapping photos.
In the moment his mind was clear, no headache. So when the baseball bat swung from behind, he sensed it right away, ducking and kicking backwards, knocking the thug into a pile of discarded boxes.
“Ya know, it’s not nice to sneak up on someone,” he said, stuffing the camera away before dodging a different attacker.
The alley wasn’t small, but both directions now had thugs blocking the exits. Enclosing on him, Peter cracked his neck, stretching his arms and hoping on his toes. “You guys aren’t going to sell me something are you? Is this about a new type of toilet? Because my old one works fine.”
Each gang member had matching designs on their shirts, the green swirl. The men had different weapons, some bats, others with heavy chains or metal pipes. They eventually stopped, surrounding him in half circle, each with their weapon ready to strike.
“Alright fine,” he glanced around him, “I’ll take a Sham-Wow.”
The men lunged forward, hoping to strike. Instead he jumped backwards, easily avoiding damage as he stuck to the wall and fired web onto each of their weapons. With no headache and no fatigue, he felt strong again, and with one swift pull yanked all the weapons from their hands, leaving them hanging twenty feet above.
Dropping down, he easily ducked, dodged, tripped, punched, and beat them until only he remained. With most unable to talk he chose the least hurt, grabbing him by the shirt and hoisting him into the air with a single hand.
“So … this awkward but, care to explain the new fashion?” he asked, pointing to the man’s shirt.
When the thug kept quiet, Peter walked to the alleyway wall, slowly crawling up it while still holding the thug with one hand. It didn’t take long before he started screaming. The height, mixed with Peter’s grip slowly becoming loose, forced the thug to hold onto his arm, fearful of the six-story plunge.
“Care to talk now?”
“Yes! I – I’ll tell you! Just don’t-”
Just then, Peter’s cell phone began to ring, causing them both to go silent. Taking his hand off the wall, he was able to support the 200 pound man, and himself, with just his legs as he leaned back against the flat wall.
“This is embarrassing,” Peter chuckled, tilting his head at the terrified man, “I’ll just be a minute,” he said , shrugging the man off and letting him fall; but before he could reach the ground, he shot two lines of webbing, catching him just before impact.
“Go for Peter,” he smirked.
“Ooh, hey, baby,” Mary Jane answered, breathing heavily.
“Uh, hey, you,” he listened carefully to her grunts, “are … you okay?”
“I’m on the treadmill at the Gym, ugh!”
Peter smiled behind his mask, “Sounds like you’re playing with yourself to me.”
MJ laughed, “You’re awful, I just wanted to check on you – make sure … ugh, that my hero was staying safe.”
“Oh you know me,” Peter glanced down at the men struggling to walk, “Just … hangin’ around.”
For a moment nothing was said, and Peter simply listened to the hot, breathy moans of Mary Jane as she struggled with her exercise. Finally he had to speak up, “Uh, babe, whatever you’re doing, well … I’m wearing spandex.”
She laughed, “Ahh- does it … really get you going to hear me like this?”
Giving the thugs one last look, Peter leapt onto the roof, crouching behind some tall vents that billowed white smoke. “It sounds like something I’d pay two dollars a minute for,” he whispered, looking around to make sure no one could see him.
“Mm, well maybe you should find somewhere private-”
“Done,” he replied, pulling the tight red shirt up before pulling the pants down, freeing his erection.”
“You’re so bad.”
“Yeah, yeah, just keep making those noises.”
“Oh my god, you’re such a … Ohh, fuck … you’re a pervert, Peter.”
Once more nothing was said. Peter sat quietly as he listened to Mary Jane grunt and moan into his ear, stroking himself faster each time she whimpered or cursed. As he came nearer to climax, she finally spoke up. “Getting close?”
“Yeah,” was all he said, listening to her giggle.
“It’s so big, Peter,” she purred, “I didn’t think it would fit … Ooh, but he made it fit. It’s so much bigger than yours … remind me why am I still dating you?”
Peter was too close to care what she said, reaching climax, his load fired across the rooftop, splattering a foot ahead of him in long white lines. After a moment of bliss, he finally came back to his senses and managed to say, “Thanks, MJ, I needed that. Uhm, I love you-”
“I know you do,” she giggled, “see you tonight, handsome.”
With the phone and his dick put away, Peter stepped back to the buildings edge and looked down. Somehow, the thugs had managed to free their friend, and now the alley was completely empty.
“Shit,” he grumbled, unsure how long they had been gone. Despite the setback, he had plenty of time to keep searching; J.J wouldn’t need the photo’s just yet.
“The plan is coming together nicely.”
“Yes, Sir, all thanks to you.”
“Soon, Spider-Man … soon.”
The sun was setting when Peter returned to Mr. Jameson. Eager to get home, he took his payment and left, rushing so he could slip away and see MJ. The closer he came to his apartment the worse his headache grew. Swinging onto the roof, he changed out of his suit and made his way down the stairs, waving to a neighbor as they passed.
Being a teenager, hormones could often get the better of you. The prospect of being with his girlfriend fueled him, his pants already tight as he reached the door. Suddenly, a wave like disturbance struck him, as if something terrible was inside his apartment. Causiously, he turned the knob and looked inside.
Waiting on him was MJ, her legs spread, wearing nothing but a smile. His head ached, but he stepped inside anyway. Looking around the room, he found no one else, yet the sense of danger continued to hound him harder than ever. Then, as he approached her, a hand grabbed him from behind.
His spider sense erupted as he was thrown against the wall, shattering a photo of his uncle and cracking the plaster. Debris fell around him, and he looked up to find none other than Mysterio, a master of illusions and hypnosis.
“MJ, Get back!” Peter shouted, jumping to his feet and getting between them. With her behind and the Fish bowl headed Villian in front, he raised his web shooter; but before he could press the button, Mary Jane’s foot swung between his legs, catching Peter in the balls.
His headache was unbearable, but the pain below now matched it, and he screamed as he fell. Suddenly everything started to make sense; it was because she was under Mysterio’s control that his spider sense never stopped.
“Such a fool,” Mysterio laughed, stepping over and placing his foot on Peter’s chest.
Behind him, a group of dark skinned thugs entered the room, all wearing the green swirled shirts. It took a moment, but Peter recognized their faces from a few nights ago, they were the same thugs who had cornered MJ in the alley.
“Ah, good, the help is here,” Mysterio said, glancing over his shoulder, “take him to the hideout.”
Peter struggled to breath as the boot weighed heavily on him. The only thing worse was the headache, making him too weak to fight back.
“Take the girl too, she can still be of some use to us.”
Before Peter could speak, Mysterio’s large boot struck his face with enough force to break the floorboards below him. Head ringing, Peter struggled to move, horrified as the thugs walked over to his girlfriend, freely groping her naked body before the boot crashed into his head again.
“Nighty night, insect,” the green, cape wearing villian laughed. With one final stomp, Peter was finally knocked unconscious.
It was dark when Spider-Man awoke. Dark, and cold. Metal chains bound his ankles and wrist, and for the first time in a long time, his head didn’t hurt. His balls were sore, but had mostly healed.
Struggling to get up, he found himself chained to the floor. At most he could rise to his knees, but no higher. It was a metal throat collar that held him in place, the chain running through a metal ring that looped to his wrist and ankles, severely restricting his movement.
After a moment he realized he was nude, and that he was inside a concrete cellar. Small slivers of light were shining through the bottom of a nearby door, giving him a barely enough sight. As footsteps approached, he struggled to break his bonds, but they remained firm.
As the door opened Peter squinted against the blinding light, unable to see who had joined him. Only when they drew closer did he realize it was more than one person, and as they cracked their knuckles, he recognized the thugs from earlier.
“Rise and shine, boy,” said the leader, smirking before rearing back and taking a swing at Peter’s face.
Bound, but still able to move, Peter easily ducked the swing, smiling as the thug stumbled from the haymaker.
“I think you missed me,” he quipped when the leader regained his balance.
“Uh-oh,” Peter’s smile faded, steeling himself for the abuse he was about to recieve.
Taking turns, two thugs held him while the other proceeded to punch him in the face. The hit barely moved him, and Peter was able to smile again, his strength and duribility far more than avarage. But as the minutes rolled by, and an hour finally passed, the men’s hands were sore and painful, but Peter was badly beaten.
His nose cut at the top, both eyes blackened, scuffs and cuts from where they had started kicking him in the face, and finally his balls swollen where they had kicked him several times in an attempt to weaken him.
After the final blow Peter had given in, and was practically crying as he promised to do anything they wanted. The men laughed, called him a small dicked white boy, then left, leaving him alone once more in darkness.
It was half an hour before more footsteps approached, and this time he was joined by the person he wanted to see most, MJ, but behind her followed the thugs.
“Hi, Peter,” she said sensually, stopping in front of him. Her body nude, and her shaven mound in his face.
“MJ,” he gasped, “please, you have to fight it … it’s Mysterio’s mind control, it’s making you-”
But she struck him across the face, not enough to hurt, but to shock him into silence. By now the thugs were surrounding and groping at her body, squeezing, pinching, twisting, grinding, all in Peter’s face.
“Why didn’t you come get me earlier?” MJ complained, “I wanted to see you beat him up.”
Peter’s eyes grew wide, both in shock from her words, but also from the large black cock that had begun poking into view. Pushing through her thigh gap from behind, the thug’s hard-on rubbed the underside of her pussy, getting it wet as he humped her, the head aimed directly at Peter’s face.
Mary Jane tightened her legs, squeezing him harder as he began drooling pre-cum onto her feet. Shuffling closer, she giggled as the head of his cock began touching Peter’s nose, his eye’s crossing as he watched it.
“That’s what a real man’s cock looks like, Pete,” she smirked, reaching between her legs to stroke it.”
“No,” Peter whimpered, “you don’t know what you’re saying … you’re still under his mind control.”
The thug behind her laughed, squeezing her breast as the tip of his dick attached a string of precum to peter’s nose, “Hah, he still thinks you’re being controlled, what a fucking idiot.”
Peter felt his stomach drop. Looking up, MJ and the thugs smiled down at him, as if to confirm his worst fear.
“I’m sorry, pete,” MJ began, “but he’s right, I’m not being controlled.” The entire time she spoke, the black cock continued poking through her thighs, touching peter’s nose.
“N-no, that’s not true-”
“Each time we had sex, I was laughing at you; and each time you left, I was cheating on you.”
Suddenly and without warning, the thug behind her cursed and grimaced, just before his cock unexpectedly began firing it’s load directly onto Peter’s face. Thick white globs pelted him, splashing into his eyes, down his nose, cheeks, and even in his hair. MJ burst into laughter, shaking the cock and flinging droplets onto her boyfriend.
“Shit,” said the thug, “got too excited.”
“You’re as bad as, Peter,” she laughed, twisting her torso and giving the black man behind her a deep, loving french kiss.
Through a cum glazed vision, Pete watched his girlfriend make out with the same deviant who was kicking him in the face only twenty minutes ago. The resolve and hope he had held onto was crumbling, and he now hung his head, trying not to weep.
“I guess we should get started, eh?” asked a different thug.
Releasing her, the men switched places, and soon Mary Jane was being held up, her legs spread wide, and a new black cock pressing at her entrance. Peter finally gathered the courage to look up, coming face to face with MJ’s pussy, just as it was lowered onto a thick piece of meat.
“Enjoy the show, loser,” Mary Jane moaned, “it might be the last time you ever see my pussy.”
The thug holding her up stumbled forward, bouncing her on his cock, but also bumping into Peter’s face. With the collar restricting his movement, Peter couldn’t escape as the thug’s balls dropped onto his nose. Now fucking the redheaded bombshell, each bounce pressed into Pete’s face, and he began to weep.
MJ closed her eyes and smiled, losing herself in the pleasure.