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SPIDER-MAN

Tangled Web

Chapter 8

(Going Green)

The sound of the Daily Bugle had changed over the years, evolving from the scritch-scratch of shorthand notes to the click-clack of manual and then automatic typewriters. Even the white noise of computer keyboards had died away in the last few years, replaced with white noise machines and lofi music streams played on bluetooth speakers. Constantly ringing phones had gone the way of the dinosaur, replaced with Google alerts. The one thing that had not changed, not if he could help it, was the man sitting behind the largest desk in the office.

“What is this?!" The voice was pointed, strong, deep and harsh. It elicited a tightening of muscles from every employee in the room. The owner of the voice was in his fifties, his dark brown hair now going gray on the sides. His mustache seemed stately and refined, a callback to the news anchors of the seventies and eighties. His light blue eyes belied the intensity in the soul behind them. The man held up a tablet showing a picture of Spider-Man in his black suit crouching on the roof of an armored truck while two robbers hung upside down behind him.

“That's… the cover story for tomorrow?" While most of the employees shrank away from their boss, a young man standing near the doorway with nicely coiffed black hair and caramel colored skin seemed slightly more immune. The early morning light shone off the rectangular glasses resting on his nose.

“The cover story… For our digital zine, yes. Remind me, Felix, you can't run out of ink for a digital zine, can you? We're not publishing in black and white, right Felix?" The man asked.

“No, Mister Jameson." Felix replied.

“Then why does it look like we ran out of toner when printing Spider-Man?!" Jonah asked. Felix's lips quirked a little.

“He's wearing a black suit now." Felix replied. J Jonah Jameson slammed his fist on his desk, rattling the picture frame of his son, as well as the various wooden boxes and crystal glasses he had.

“Then why is the story about the armored truck?! Why is he wearing the black suit?" Jonah asked, his question spilling out over the rest of the employees, “We all know Spider-Man is out there playing devil's advocate in Hell's Kitchen, the crazy vigilante making good or whatever shit… What made this guy snap and go from orange and black, looking like some rotten jack o'lantern to this edge lord goth? Did he ever consider patriotic colors? Is he part of a noir drama? Is this a political statement? Is this an anti-statement where color has no meaning?!" Jonah asked.

“Sir, he's an anonymous hero?" This voice had the edge of a Bronx accent and came out of perhaps the largest mouth in the office. Eddie's dark blond hair was done up into spikes today, complimenting the various tattoos peeking out from his muscled biceps. He had worn the Daily Bugle shirt, though it seemed to cup his large pectorals almost too tightly and his abdominal muscles were visible through the fabric. Without moving his head, Jonah's eyes darted over to Eddie as if he was surprised the water cooler had spoken.

“So you're saying, what? That we might have to investigate? Ask questions? Go out of our way to report the truth and, I dare say, report that truth to the public?" Jonah asked. Eddie grimaced a little, rubbing at the back of his head with one meaty hand.

“That's a very good idea…" Felix said.

“Damn right it is, and it's an idea you all better start having. If I get one more listicle regurgitated from a hallucinating AI I am going to stab myself with my stylus. Ever since this Spider-Man showed up we're getting reports that would have made the Enquirer wet itself. We've got sightings of werewolves and giant lizard creatures, magical portals with bearded cavemen with crossbows, and some dude in spandex stealing every ATM on Wall Street…" Jonah said in exasperation. When he didn't continue for a moment, Felix realized they had reached the end stage of their conversation and he clapped.

“You heard your assignments everyone!" Felix called out, “Get to work. I need outlines and leads on my desk by four!" he added. The room broke into a frenzy of activity as people started searching out new angles. Felix moved up to Jonah's desk. Jonah shook his head.

“I remember when this was a respectable industry…" Jonah said, earning a nod from Felix, “A profitable industry." he added.

“I know, sir." Felix said gently.

“I could have gone wall to wall with stories about my son, the astronaut, but no… I didn't want it to look like nepotism. I wanted our reporting to be fair and balanced." Jonah said wistfully.

“It was balanced, sir." Felix said, pouring his boss a drink from one of the flasks on the desk into one of the crystal glasses. Jonah tipped it back without even looking.

“Now our most profitable articles are about pop up drops of the new yeet three thousands…" Jonah said.

“Those words aren't actually a thing." Felix said softly.

“We went from writing stories on cross-continental teleportation to hunting down freaks of nature for clicks in just a few short months." Jonah said. Felix poured Jonah a refill and smiled.

“Everyone thinks they want to root for the hero. That's why Spider-Man sells. What they really want is a takedown, to see power winning out. You need a scandal. You need a target." Felix shrugged. Jonah's face remained as impassive as he could manage, but his mustache twitched with inspiration and his eyes surveyed the room like a hawk before finally settling on the picture of his son on the desk. His son, the astronaut. An astronaut that had nearly died.

“Howser! Brock! Get me that content on Norman Osborn." Jonah called out.

“The Hero interview?" Howser asked from across the room.

“No! The archival footage from before the launch. They made it back safe, good, whatever… but why did the accident happen in the first place? Why was the company's CEO up there on the mission? The people have a right to know if this could have been avoided!" Jonah said. Once more the newsroom sped into a frenzy of activity getting to work. Jonah lifted his glass half way to his lips before he hesitated, looking at the picture of his son. Hopefully Johnny would forgive him for tearing his boss apart.

****

“What does this creature mean, Emo?" Venom's voice echoed in Peter's mind. It was deep, resonant, bringing a comforting pressure to his bones even when the symbiote wasn't actually speaking. Peter crouched upside down, feet splayed on an outcropping from the corner of a building. The glow of his cellphone shimmered on the white splotches that acted as his eyes through the suit itself. Peter swiped his claw-like finger along the screen, reading more.

“I guess they're a little confused why we wear all black now." Peter said. There was a ripple through the symbiote when Peter used the word 'we' and it seemed to caress his skin.

“That is our color. It is the color of the night, of the void, of the hunter. It consumes all color." Venom purred.

“Yeah, but it can be seen as the color of the villain, of death, of someone making themselves other." Peter replied. Venom considered for a moment.

“Do we want other colors or other shapes?" Venom asked. Peter shrugged.

“I'm not sure, I-" Peter gasped as his center of gravity started to shift. He pushed off the outcropping and dropped to the sidewalk below, gasping for breath as his chest grew and grew. His pectorals swelled and another set seemed to push out beneath, bulging and flexing before a wet, sticky sound came. Peter looked to his right and left as another set of arms surged out of the suit. He was panting now, his heart racing, watching as the double set of right hands closed and opened, then the left. He could feel them, almost like-

“You were a formidable warrior after your first battle." Venom considered. Peter remembered having four arms and having to go to Harry for help, bringing him the living water from the ruins in the other dimension. Thinking of that, however, made Venom contract. Peter's mouth filled with a sour taste and the arms retracted again and the mouth of his mask split open to reveal venom's long prehensile tongue and fangs.

“What was that?" Peter asked, grimacing.

“That is not a good place. We should not go there…" Venom replied. Peter took a few steps, heading into an alleyway. He and Venom had gotten to a new place in their relationship after the symbiote had started communicating with him but it was very clear it had its own experiences and preferences.

“What were you trying to do?" Peter asked.

“If this form is not the best for us, then what is?" Venom asked. Peter's heart accelerated again as he saw his black clad form starting to rise up taller and broader and thicker. His feet gained sharp talon like claws, his heels widening and his arch increasing. His shoulders felt weighed down with muscle and his arms grew longer and longer. Venom's fangs only grew sharper and thicker, his tongue longer as Spider-Man's face pushed out into a muzzle with nostril slits. Peter was a little overwhelmed. He could feel this massive body as if it was an extension of his own but he must have been swimming inside of the black goo simulating a larger body. Still, it felt both amazing and familiar.

“The lizard…" Peter murmured. Sensing that no one was around, Venom reached down to cup his groin. The black slime stretched out inch after inch as a thick, hard, rubbery cock peeled free of the suit. Venom began to stroke his wicked hand up and down the huge length, feeling the pulsing veins. Peter gasped, the creature's muzzle opening as that long tongue slithered out and the fangs dripped with saliva. Peter started thrusting into the hand, faster and harder before he came. The cock throbbed but Venom consumed the seed internally, using it to fuel himself.

“It is strong, perhaps good to play with, but it is not what we desire." Venom considered. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the symbiote contracted and constricted, bringing Peter down almost to his normal size. Peter could tell he was still a few inches taller than he was supposed to be and the extra height made his gait more fluid. It would be too easy to get overly confident being augmented by the symbiote. Peter knew he'd have to be careful.

“We can play later… We've only got a few hours before we have to be home and get that paper written." Peter said. Venom gave his customary form of a sigh by reverting back as close as he could get to the default Spider-Man suit he had mimicked when first bonding to Peter. The symbol on the chest was right, the eyes were somewhat close, but he didn't seem to put out the effort at recreating the webbing lines. Still, it was comfortable and incredibly adaptable. Spider-Man lifted his arm, ejected a thick web and used it to start climbing up to swinging height. He could already hear sirens in the distance.

****

On any given day there were half a dozen places Norman Osborn would rather be than in a meeting room with his board of directors. Well, maybe not half a dozen… more like half of a half dozen. He enjoyed being in the laboratories, he enjoyed being in his office and he enjoyed having dinner with his son. The recent addition to that mix was having coffee with Frances Barrison. Thinking of her did take a slight edge off before he was reminded of the blood sucking parasites that he was currently surrounded with.

“Norman, I'm sure you've read the papers…" One of the directors said from across the table, his hands steepled. Norman forced his smile, though it looked somewhat menacing on his angular features.

“Actually, I don't think I have. Oscorp was successful in its Go Green movement." Norman rebutted. The board did not seem pleased by his witticism.

“The news has taken a turn for the worse, far worse. No one is celebrating you as a hero taking part in the brave return to Earth after an accident. They are painting you as a dangerously cavalier CEO putting whims ahead of safety." One of the other directors said, her voice somber.

“Whose safety?" Norman asked sharply, “My crew's safety? My own? The company's? The shareholder's?"

“It doesn't matter. It is working." The first director said. Norman's cheeks twitched.

“This is clickbait engagement from some hobgoblin drumming up mischief for profit. Yes, this is a setback. I admit it. It is a setback in time, profit, image, but we've come back from worse. We will do what we always have. We will be gilded by the next innovation, the next invention." Norman said confidently. That confidence waned slightly in the unnaturally long delay.

“Perhaps you should focus your efforts on finding that next innovation, or the one after that." The first director said, the sunlight coming in from the boardroom windows nearly washing out his portley shape and his bald head.

“Are you firing me from my own company?" Norman asked, feeling his muscles tensing rapidly as he tried to work out their precise angle.

“No, not firing… You still own a substantial number of shares in the company and we both want the same thing, after all." A third member of the board commented.

“And what is that?" Norman asked, feeling as if he had acid on his tongue. The director looked at Norman as if he'd suffered a concussion.

“Why the continued success and profit of OsCorp." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if that was some unspoken code, the directors started gathering their things to put them into briefcases.

“For now, Norman, the less the public sees of you the better. Let them think of us as a brand and not a person. Let them forget the mistakes of the past and remember the synergy of our product continuity." The second director said as she stood. They began filtering out of the room, leaving Norman sitting there both stunned and shell-shocked. The door slid shut and left the room in silence aside from the gentle hiss of the HVAC system circulating air. Norman sat there for a moment, then two. The silence stretched out until it broke with harsh, jagged laughter.

At first it was just a single laugh, then three. Then Norman started laughing uncontrollably. He slammed his fist on the table, feeling it burst out of his chest as if his lungs were bellows. He laughed until he was red in the face, then until he was nearly blue. His veins bulged, his eyes were wide, he looked absolutely manic until his face snapped into a violent and menacing glare.

“Sideline ME? I made this company! I poured my life and soul into it. I made half the damn patents myself!" Norman shouted to no one, his voice captured in the acoustically insulated board room.

“Let them think of us as a brand and not a person…" Norman heard an echo of the words in his own voice, only eliciting more bile.

“I AM the brand…" Norman growled.

“Let them forget the mistakes of the past…" The voice said mockingly.

“WHAT mistakes?! It was a fluke of the cosmos, an interstellar natural disaster and we came through it unscathed!" Norman hissed.

“Did they? What about Norton Fester?" The voice asked. Norman grit his teeth. The voice chuckled lightly, “Or Frances? She's used that voice of hers to do more than compliment your pretty eyes…"

“Shut up." Norman growled.

“And what about you, Norman? What about you?" He heard his own voice asking in that grating, gritty, gravely way he sunk into when his self loathing was at its most intense.

“Shut up!" Norman howled.

“We can't do that, Norman. If you are quiet, they'll forget us. If they won't let you be famous, you'll have to be infamous. The next innovation isn't going to be deodorant. You know what it is and you know what you have to do." The voice said with confidence.

“It's too soon, there haven't been tests. It's a theory based on a random interaction in space…" Norman said, his voice suddenly sounding more restrained and concerned.

“THEN DO THE TESTS! The enemies are at the gates. In spite of everything they've done for you, they hate you. Screw them. You're strong enough to have it all, TAKE IT!"

“If I go down that road, I don't know who I'll become." Norman said, his voice shaky.

“We are who we choose to be, now CHOOSE!" The voice echoed, culminating in Norman's fist coming down so hard on the board room table that the glass section in the center shattered, raining shards down like a thousand prism pieces that began to sparkle on the beige carpeting below in the sunlight. Rather than being startled or shocked or feeling self conscious, a small smile slowly began to grow across Norman's lips.

****

“Come on, Perez, Choose already…" Billy's voice sounded impatient but Peter knew it well enough to detect the playful tone. The truth of the matter was that Billy wouldn't have been out of place to be impatient. There had been some distance between them after their attempt at dating had wound up with a lizard battle royale, but that particular issue had come at the end of years of friendship. Peter had decided enough time had passed and offered to buy Billy dinner. Billy had nearly tripped over himself to accept and had suggested a buffet given that he was always hungry because of his metabolism, but it seemed Peter's had outmatched his.

“Sorry, sorry…" Peter murmured, licking his lips a little as he looked at the dessert table. There were bowls of chocolate mousse that made his mouth water far more than it should. They had already loaded up their table with several plates of entrees. Peter had been back to the meat carving station a total of three times. The salad had been loaded up with bits of ham and cheese and eggs and more eggs.

“You really must work up an appetite with your second job." Billy said. That was enough to snap Peter out of his food induced reverie. Peter closed his mouth and pushed back his intrusive thoughts before he grabbed one bowl of mousse, turned to go back to the table, then turned back and grabbed one more before they walked back to their seats.

“Yeah… More so recently." Peter said, thinking it was too soon to tell Billy about his new 'coworker' despite the fact that Venom had made himself rather comfortable as a form fitting black latex-like shirt beneath the t-shirt he was wearing. “I can't really thank you enough for not, uh, sharing what you found out." Peter said softly as he began eating the baby corn off his salad. Billy took a bite of ham steak and chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing.

“Like you said, if we had gone at it right then and there I don't think either of us could have resisted trying to get that moment back. And you were right, it would have messed up my college scholarships and stuff. But my dad bounced back at OsCorp and things sort of worked out." Billy said, waiting for Peter to smile before he added on, “Though my offer still stands. I'll leave enough room to eat you out." Billy said. Peter coughed at that, nearly snorting lettuce out of his nose in surprise. Billy grinned and took a big drink of his soda, leaning back in the booth to spread out his shoulders and let his prominent, muscled and quite well defined chest press out against the fabric of his shirt. His biceps were practically tearing themselves out of his sleeves.

Peter had barely recovered from the display when he felt a hot, fluid undulation begin massaging his dick. He looked down starkly to see that an almost obscene tent had formed in his pants. Venom had spread down from his shirt into his underwear, forming around his cock and working like a sleeve from base to tip and back down again. Peter nearly growled, thinking intently as hard as he could that this was not the time or the place. Venom merely responded that the time better be soon and the place better be close.

“Did you get your response letters yet?" Peter asked between bites he was starting to wolf down. Venom seemed placated by the sudden influx of protein. Billy nodded, savoring a bit of his chicken fried beef steak until he answered.

“Yeah, but I bet you got a lot more of them." Billy said. Peter nodded.

“I guess they're all safety schools except the one that I wanted to go to." Peter admitted. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“You're still sticking to Empire State University?" Billy asked, leaning in a little, “I mean, they have crime other places too." he murmured. Peter laughed a little, slurping at his drink from the straw before he started gathering up a kebab of meats on his fork.

“Yeah, but I can't leave my dad alone and I've got roots here and honestly the particular flavor of crime here is a bit unique." Peter said.

“Plus you don't gotta pay for laundry if you can just go home." Billy smirked, “I guess I may have to change my colors and go with the ESU scholarship." he admitted. Peter's eyes widened at that.

“I-I mean Billy, you could go anywhere. You're a football legend!" Peter said. Billy chuckled at that.

“Maybe I will be, but I want to see where things go. Besides, you're not the only one with a dad to look in on." Billy admitted. Peter gave a gentle nod at that but he couldn't resist popping the fork into his mouth and using his lips to pluck off the five different kinds of meat. He murmured as he savored it and chewed it up. Billy let out a sigh, seeing Peter so orally fixated. It gave him chills.

****

There was a certain peace to being inside the labs in the heart of OsCorp tower. Without windows, time seemed to have no meaning and with the incredible infrastructure of the building nearly any material, substance or equipment was a few button presses away. When combined with the late hour at the lack of other scientists, it was easy to feel as if they had the run of the place, as if their ingenuity was a flame burning hot and bright. The reality of the matter, the fact that they were there because of a shared secret, somewhat diminished the excitement.

Norton Fester leaned back in his office chair, his feet up and crossed on the desk before him, his arms likewise crossed over his chest - a chest that was far more defined than it had been on the shuttle mission. Attempts had been made to reign in his wild reddish-brown hair and his soul patch had grown longer and thicker. Sitting next to Norton, Frances looked positively demure. She had streaks of blue in her dark hair and matching fingernail polish that seemed to clash with the sterile lab coat she wore. She seemed to sit, waiting in rapt attention for whatever Norman was going to say.

“Why are we here?" Norton asked before Norman could say anything.

“We know why we are here." Frances said, her faint french accent coming out a little sharper.

“Then why is he here?" Norton asked, gesturing to the fourth individual in the room. Doctor Curt Connors was hunched over a computer console, the flare of the computer screen shining over his glasses as his dishwater blond hair seemed to perpetually fall across his face.

“He is here because I trust him… and because the reagent in our space suits shares properties with one of his projects." Norman said.

“What project?" Norton asked.

“KP-112." Curt replied without looking up. Norton's brow furrowed.

“KP-112, wasn't that… That was the project for super soldiers? Muscle growth, increased intelligence and agility…" Norton said.

“Not to mention enhanced healing and immune responses." Curt said, indicating the empty sleeve in his lab coat, “You might say I had a vested interest." Curt said with his usual flat tone and British charm.

“What happened to the project?"Frances asked.

“We don't need a history lesson…" Norton said in frustration, “Besides, why isn't JJ here? He got exposed, same as the rest of us."

“John Jameson… will go down in history as a true American hero." Norman said in careful, measured tones, “But he came to us from outside OsCorp. He was on the mission because he had to be. More than that, he has not come to any of us to disclose any changes he might have experienced. Has he?" Norman asked. Norton looked away and Frances shook her head. “Besides, when we know more we will have more to share with him… but for now? Now we have to know what we have." Norman said.

“What we have… is KP-113." Curt replied, finally looking up from the computer screen. Norman stalked over, his icy blue eyes boring into the man.

“And what exactly is KP-113?" Norman hissed. Despite seeming perpetually tired and beaten down, Curt managed a small smile.

“I don't know, exactly. Shall we find out?" he asked. Norman's grin grew to immense proportions.

****

There was something oddly exhilarating about walking down the alleyway, holding hands with Billy. Peter couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Their first time dating had been a hormone induced rollercoaster as most high school romances were and it had ended a bit rough when Peter had to hold fast to his ideals rather than giving in. But now? Billy was on the right path, and more than that, he was one of the very few people that knew his secret. He didn't have to pretend or evade or make up excuses or anything. Peter's thoughts were interrupted as Billy reached over, catching Peter's fuzzy chin between his thumb and index finger.

Without a word, Billy turned Peter's head towards him and leaned down for a kiss. Their lips parted and their tongues began the rhythmic wrestling match between them. Peter let Billy lead for a few kisses before he reached up, grabbed him by the head and opened wider. Billy murmured in delight, pressing in tighter, bringing their groins close enough to press and rub. It didn't take long for their respective tents to find one another and brush like kindling trying to start a fire in the woods.

Peter shivered in the kiss, but then he gasped as he felt the liquid sloshing of the symbiote rapidly spreading down across his skin beneath his clothing. His eyes twitched a little as the black goo squeezed around his erection, contouring to every pulsing vein and the gentle curve at the underside of his glans… and then it began to grow. More and more of the goo coated his cock, keeping every detail the same while expanding outward. Every nerve ending was teased by the alien slime to send signals as if he really was that large.

“What is it?" Billy asked, looking a little surprised. Peter was already flushed, feeling the symbiote spread down across his biceps, his elbows, then his forearms.

“Well, since you know about me already… and we're giving this another go, maybe I should show you what I can do?" Peter asked. Billy grinned a little.

“Here? Now?" he asked. Peter nodded. Billy licked his lips. “Yeah, that'd be so cool." he said. Peter grinned and took a breath, willing himself to release the restraint he had on Venom. Strings and tendrils of black slime seeped up from the collar of his shirt and the cuffs of his sleeves. His hands were encased in the black rubbery coating, stretching out to claw like tips. Peter rolled his head side to side as the slime crawled up his neck, slipping across his chin and encasing the sides of his head.

His ears disappeared beneath, then his shag of rusty red hair. The black slime coated his mouth, his nose, and then his eyes. For a moment he looked like some of the rubber fetishists that showed up at various events, but then the white splotches formed for eyes and a seam formed before his mouth reemerged - this time enhanced by very sharp teeth and a tongue that was no longer human. Peter felt Venom's tongue as an extension of his own but more, feeling it tense and relax, stretching out.

“Fuck!" Billy gaped, “That's… not quite the outfit you have on the news, and it came out so organic!" he murmured. Peter tried to say something but he grunted suddenly, feeling Venom shifting and moving more. Peter straightened up as the top button of his shirt popped, then the second, then the third. The shirt strained and stretched, revealing the top of the spider emblem. Similarly, his pants were straining tightly at the waist, the tent looking almost painful.

“Come on…" Peter murmured, more to Venom than himself. All he got was a reverberating growl in his mind and another few centimeters to the girth of his cock. Peter opted to rapidly pull off his jacket, his shirt, then kicked off his shoes before tugging off his pants. Billy's eyes widened in awe as Peter emerged in glistening black rubber-like material with a perfectly defined ass and a club of a cock stretching out over plump black balls.

“Damn, Perez, how have you been holding out on me? You're bigger than anyone on my team…" Billy murmured. Peter wasn't quite sure if he meant in muscle or manhood, but he didn't feel like clarifying at the moment. Peter grinned at that before he looked up at the fire escape above. He gave a hop, reaching up to grab on. He hoisted himself up, despite his mass, with relative ease. The slick soles of his feet adhered to the metal and he began crawling along the underside of the fire escape and then down the brick wall underneath.

Peter started to sense movement but then it was muffled beneath the sensation of rustling leaves or a babbling brook, something Venom did. The reason why became obvious as Peter's rubbery ass cheeks were suddenly spread by Billy's face rooting as deeply as it could get. Peter stopped, upside down on all fours on the wall as Billy's tongue sought out the sphincter that Venom had suddenly opened up in the suit and allowed it to plunge inside. Billy braced his hands on the brick wall, letting his tongue slip in and out, back and forth, deeper and deeper. It surged and slithered, looking for all the pressure points to drive Peter wild.

“B-b…b…" Peter stuttered before a long, luxuriant hiss escaped his lips. Venom's tongue writhed with contentment and the white splotches narrowed to bare slits. Billy murmured happily, finding Peter's natural aroma mixing with a distinctly artificial smell like a mix between fresh rubber and a faint whiff of petrichor. Peter groaned more as his ass cheeks seemed to pry apart, allowing Billy's face in deeper, feeling his lips wrap entirely around his ring and that tongue get so deep inside him.

Venom took control of Peter's left arm, bringing it down to coil around their bulging rubbery dick. They began to stroke it up and down, but they could do far better than just a hand job. The entire coating was pulsating, throbbing, practically milking the human. The sentient slime began to creep down the host's urethra, navigating through his passage to climb back to his balls. As it moved, it manipulated the flesh to simulate an orgasm in reverse. Peter's mouth widened in a silent shout of shock and joy as a faint stinging was coupled with the most intense rush of endorphins he'd ever had.

The one regret Venom had was that Billy lacked their long tongue. The human could have accomplished so much more, but that was a thought they could explore another time. For now they were feasting on the chemicals pumping through Peter's body. It made them feel so strong, so alive. The invasive tendrils reached their destination, all the way inside of Peter's sack. Enzymes and catalysts were released to subtly shift and change their makeup. All the while Peter was still experiencing an orgasm that normally would have been over in a second but now continued to last and last.

As Peter hung on for dear life and Venom worked their huge cock, the symbiote began to secrete a slight sheen across Spider-Man's backside. The flavor grew more potent, making Billy more desperate. He sucked and slurped and moaned and groaned, fumbling for his own dick. Before he could even get his fingers to his shaft he was cumming in his pants, staining them with an unsightly splotch of moisture. The air began to reek of semen and musk. Venom growled with contentment. This was what they were meant to do, this was so much better, they had to explore this and find the extent to which-

A jab of sensation ripped through Peter and Venom both. Sound, light, touch, smell, and something more. Something deep, distant, something imminent, and then nothing. Spider-Man threw his head back and howled as both the host and symbiote suddenly came. A thick jet of oily black slime shot out across the wall, oozing down in a steady stream. The cock continued to pulse and throb as it ejected a rather surprising amount of goo. Venom was nearly completely encompassed in the orgasm, but a small part of him knew that this was the disposal of symbiont cells that had outlived their usefulness, of cells that had been replaced manifold by others, of cells that no longer quite fit.

Billy stumbled, nearly falling to the side. Spider-Man reached out to grab his shoulder and slowly lower him to the ground. Billy sat there, pants half open, eyes glazed over. He looked up in absolute adoration for the glistening black creature clinging to the wall with his huge cock in his hand and a most hungry expression on his fang lined face. Billy slowly leaned back on the dirty street, panting for breath, his cock already getting hard again. Being a lizard would have been amazing, but something told him that life with whatever this new version of Spider-Man was might be even more exciting.

****

Tick, tick, tick, tick… Seconds slipping away, minutes, moments, opportunities. Norman had poured over the information for days until he'd finally broken up their think tank for the weekend. It wouldn't do to draw too much attention from the board, at least not yet. Curt had his family, Norton had his side hustles. Norman had nearly gnawed through the pencil he'd been thinking with, his sharp teeth too dangerous of an implement in and of themselves. He leaned forward again, bringing up the early results and projections.

KP-113 was essentially an extension of Doctor Connors work in human enhancements. They had all gotten a small dose of it unwittingly on the shuttle when the radiation from the core had catalyzed complex chemicals in their life support systems. They had come out of it on the other side with various changes. That was proof that it worked, and unlike Doctor Connors and his son turning into a lizard, these changes seemed smaller but longer lasting.

“An eight hundred percent increase in strength… An almost instantaneous increase in intelligence…" Norman muttered to himself.

“And one trial where the test rodents went insane and killed one another." Norman reminded himself, the voice calmer and more measured.

“And dozens where the tests were completely successful." Norman said back to himself. He shook his head and stood up, moving over to another one of the terminals. He began typing in commands into the console.

“Synthesization process commencing. Please stand by." An automated voice commented. Slots in the wall of the chamber opened as vents were opened, connecting the interior to an aerosolization system. A loading bar chronicled the creation of more of the KP-113. Norman wouldn't get many tests with it given that the constituent elements were rare, expensive and required the administration of radiation which was strictly controlled. Still, in moments a vial of swirling metallic green liquid was delivered to the lab.

Norman slipped off his shirt and set it on the table, revealing his somewhat impressive physique. He'd had to get fit for the space mission and it was easier to stay fit than it was to get fit. Pressing his hand to the reader on the glass chamber, it chirped and the door retracted into the floor. Norman stepped inside, letting the door rise up and seal with a faint hiss behind him. Light washed up from the grill on the floor, casting rectangles of yellow-white light across him. His smile grew as he approached the mechanism on the far wall.

Pulling the tube of KP-113 out of the slot, he held it with admiration in his hand. This was the future. This was his redemption. Exhaling slowly, Normal slotted the tube into the round receptacle in the aerosolizer, turning it until the tube was in firmly. He pulled up the control console and entered commands to record the process to his private server and then erase all local data. He entered the density and pressure settings before setting a short timer. He pulled the protective cover back down over the console, ensuring none of the substance would get into the inner workings.

Norman's steps echoed in the enclosed space as he moved to the center of the room, turning to face back out to the cameras. He put on his best showman's smile and held his arms out slightly to his sides. There was only a split second of warning before the floor erupted into a wellspring of thick green vapor. It obscured Norman entirely, circling around him and enveloping him. The room was full in seconds but the pressure built and built. As Norman embraced the chemical, he couldn't help but grin at that familiar smell; metallic, sharp with a chlorine like edge.

In the middle of the cloud Norman could see nothing but the green gas glowed with the yellow light from beneath the floor. It swirled around his face as he breathed it in and out, letting it suffuse his lungs and sinuses, letting it coat his skin. He could feel the stress on his muscles from grappling with the board melt away. He could feel the fatigue of sleepless nights disappear. He could feel his heartbeat growing stronger and faster. He could feel it working. Norman threw his head back and cackled, his laughter loud and strong. This was how someone triumphed over adversity.

Somewhere behind him there was a muffled chirp. A heavy whooshing came and the green cloud circled and diminished, growing thinner and thinner until every particle had been evacuated from the chamber, leaving Norman standing there in the middle with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. His skin glistened with a combination of sweat from the experience and a condensation of the chemical. A few leftover giggles escaped his lips before, without warning, his muscles suddenly constricted violently.

Norman fell forward onto one knee, his hand slamming down painfully into the metal grill on the floor. His face tightened into a fearsome expression. It wasn't just his calves going into charlie horses, it was his biceps and triceps and pecs. Every muscle group spasmed and twitched and tightened and pulled. He threw his head back and screamed this time. The muscles across his body were reacting to an effect in macrocosm. Cells mutated, tissue shifted and free radicals continued an almost effervescent reaction in his blood.

His skin felt clammy and rubbery. He looked down, seeing splotches of verdant green began spreading across his chest. He couldn't control his facial expressions. His already sharp and distinct nose seemed to stretch a little. His ears ached as they elongated to elf-like points. His already blade-like chin extended down just a little more. His knuckles popped and snapped, his fingers stretching out a little longer and a little further. The ivory of his fingernails stained yellow and darkened, stretching out and honing into little sharp points.

Echoes and memories drifted through Norman's mind like whispers in the god. He remembered commenting about his dad bod only to have Frances laugh in that melodic way of hers and compliment his far above average physique. He remembered the board telling him that the public should think of OsCorp as a brand and not a person, namely him… and then he heard his own voice growing louder, slicing through the fog. “If we are quiet, they'll forget us…" he murmured, “This is clickbait engagement from some hobgoblin drumming up mischief for profit!" He said more furtively as his features continued to sharpen and twist into something entirely new, “We are who we choose to be!"

Slowly, fluidly, the figure rose up to long, narrow feet tipped with dark claws. He had grown taller, more angular. Even his shoulders rose up in little protrusions above the slope. The mist had been cleared, leaving him with a clear image of his reflection. On their own his strange features were a shocking shift from the default human template, but together they evoked memories of children's stories and fairy tales. His sharp, white teeth contrasted with his bright green face as he grinned. He broke out cackling again. The irony was too great, but he wasn't just laughing about his own metamorphosis. He was laughing as he imagined what he would do to his enemies. The city would learn that betrayal would not be countenanced.

****

To many it appeared that John Jonah Jameson had no patience. In most regards they were probably right. He spoke in the same sort of headlines that had made the Daily Bugle successful, first as a Newspaper and then an online presence. Jonah approached the daily churn with a methodic finality. He treated advertising and payroll the same way. Where Jonah's patience was rooted, however, was in the charitable public works that had been inspired by his late wife and later on his son.

The newsroom continued on all around Jonah but his eyes were reading through the latest grant proposals and projects. His wealth was far from infinite, especially in an age where the public had begun consuming their own thoughts for confirmation of the beliefs they already held like some ouroboros, but he had made smart investments and diversified. It had helped that the Bugle had transitioned to an online business better than most print media.

As Jonah reached for his coffee mug, the flickering of the lights around the room caught his attention. Computer screens flashed blue before going out completely. The printers fell silent mid-page and all of the desktop fans, lamps, and other distractions the employees plugged in went silent. Jonah inhaled slowly to prepare himself to advise his employees to remain calm but before he could open his mouth to issue those orders, the windows of the newsroom blew in. Shards of shattered glass pelted down across the floor while the window frames tumbled and twisted, landing in tilted heaps against the corners of desks.

Jonah looked up once the debris had cleared, eyes nearly popping out of his head. What he saw outside - floating outside - was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It seemed to be some sort of green humanoid creature standing atop a mechanical platform somewhere between a surfboard and a bat with its wings curving down. The figure was dressed in anodized purplish armor that matched the phrygian cap curving down and dangling behind his head.

“What do you want?!" Jonah asked, standing up from his desk and walking towards the open gap at the side of his building. He hoped that putting himself between him and his staff might give them the ability to escape.

“What do I want? What do I want… You and I are not so different. You use your strength and power to tear down others regardless of what good they've done. You are the mouthpiece of entropy and mediocrity!" He spat. Jonah seemed unphased.

“If I wanted a critic I would have hired one… But if you have a grievance, let's talk it out one on one since we aren't all that different. Let my staff leave." Jonah said, his mustache unwavering. The attacker shifted on his platform a little, eyes shrewd behind yellow goggles.

“You issue the orders, but they are complicit in carrying them out. There is no forgiveness for those who make a living ruining the lives of others. There is no-eurgh!" The Goblin howled as his Glider was suddenly sent into a spiral out into the street and away from the building. Jonah directed his eyes to the Glider and then the pair of translucent sticky webs that had affixed to it. Standing on a rooftop on the other side of the street was the black suited vigilante.

“Spider-Man!" Jonah called out before spinning around, “All of you get to the shelter or get out the back. Leave me a camera." Jonah said.

“You can't stay here, sir!" Felix called out.

“And miss the debut of this Green Goblin? You gotta be nuts." Jonah said, grabbing Brock's camera from his desk. He moved over to the broken window and aimed, starting to take pictures as fast as the camera could focus.

****

The sound of the Glider engines straining to correct themselves were low and deep, tinged with the whine of high air pressure being pumped through. The Goblin growled and groaned as he shifted his weight left to right and back again, depressing the triggers in the footholds and the contacts in the fingertips of his gloves. He'd been involved with dozens of projects on the R&D pipeline, some classified and some not. The small grenade-like explosives had been easy enough to learn how to use to blow up the windows of the Bugle but the Glider, ironically the same name as the shuttle that had led to the current situation, had taken a lot more to learn. Thanks to the gas, though, everything came easier. As he stabilized and the Glider evened out, he looked down to see two dangling webs hanging from one side. He grinned a little, showing his teeth.

“It may have been foolish to assume I was the only apex predator in this city." The Goblin said.

“Oh, you might be the only one on this level." Spider-Man said, landing in a crouch on the edge of a roof even with the Glider. The Goblin looked him up and down and grinned more.

“Spider-Man. I'd heard the stories but seeing you in person is quite the honor." He growled, his voice more gritty and gravely than it was before the transformation.

“I wish I could say the honor is mine, but I usually only show up when there's trouble. I know I'm not always a fan of the news, but there are innocent people in there. How about we talk about what's bothering you and we find a more constructive way to express your emotions." Peter said. The Goblin threw his head back and laughed.

“Therapy from a man who wears a costume. I'm afraid I'm not looking for a new therapist, but you might need a new doctor!" The Goblin said before he plucked several silver and orange spheres from his hip and hurled them at Spider-Man. Peter pushed back with all the strength in his legs, stretching out into a backwards dive. Half way between the two of them, the spheres erupted into sharp jagged edges of shrapnel. They peppered the surface of the roof and several impacted Spider-Man's suit. Peter felt several stinging thumps along his abdomen, becoming instantly aware that if he had not been wearing the symbiote suit that he would have received a critical injury.

Peter landed on his hands, spun around upside down and flipped back to his feet. Before the Goblin could make a quip, Peter shot out several blasts of webs. The ones that hit The Goblin in the chest were not attached to anything and made him stumble backwards while the rest latched onto the Glider and pulled it forward. The Goblin roared loudly as he used all his strength to hang on and not get knocked off. The exhaust from the radiant engines beneath the Glider made Spider-Man's suit close its eye splotches. The Goblin shot upwards almost uncontrollably before he looped, curved, and came down at Spider-Man for a kamikaze dive.

“Oh come on…" Peter grunted, turning to run. He picked up speed, feeling the vibration of the Glider engines affecting the roof beneath his feet. The Goblin was flying close, intent on skewering him with the spikes on the front of the machine. Maybe he could return the favor. Peter began to jump, reaching out for pipes, gutters, downspouts and guardrails. He bent and twisted what he could into his path. He heard a series of grunts and growls and howls behind him as the Goblin was pelted with the debris. It was enough to slow his progress before one of the errant pipes stabbed through an intake manifold on the Glider.

A small explosion knocked the Goblin off the Glider, forcing him to stumble and run to bleed off speed. He came to a stop and looked over his shoulder as the rest of the Glider exploded into a burning, hulking wreck that crackled from the heat. Somewhere in the distance the sirens of police and fire were growing louder and louder. The Goblin turned to face Spider-Man, his sharp grin turning into an even more deadly frown. He walked up to Spider-Man, step by step, glaring. He pulled back and threw a punch but Spider-Man effortlessly dodged to the left. Another punch, another dodge.

“What is in this for you? You're putting your neck on the line for nobodies." The Goblin growled, throwing another punch as a feint before bringing a knee up toward Peter's chest. A flexible, strong leg deflected that as well, forcing the Goblin to take a step back.

“Why does there have to be anything in it for me? No one is a nobody, and even if they were, why don't they deserve protection?" Peter asked.

“Because no one protects the mighty but themselves! No one defends their honor!" The Goblin replied, pulling his arms back to reveal two blades erupting from holsters on his bracers. He spun and slashed, forcing Peter to reach up and deflect with his own forearms. He grunted from the strength of the impact, though once again the suit had protected him from the actual blade. Still, it was obvious that this man was far stronger than any ordinary human.

“If you tell me who has been attacking you, maybe we can figure something out together." Peter said while pinning one of the blades between his forearms.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together… What we could create, or destroy!" The Goblin howled before he brought his other arm forward with a blade aimed at the center of the white emblem on Spider-Man's chest. Peter felt his movements slip out of his control, the symbiote slime on his face shifting rapidly. Venom leaned forward, maw splitting out of the mask, ivory fangs glistening in the light before he snapped his mouth down around the blade. The metal snapped instantly. Venom spat it out before he lunged again, this time taking another bite.

Armor crumpled and shattered and the Goblin howled out as fangs broke flesh. Peter recoiled in shock, tasting the coppery flavor of blood translated through Venom's mouth. In the moment Peter fought the symbiote, the Goblin grabbed a grenade from the other side of his belt and threw it straight down. A thick cloud of noxious purple gas erupted upward. While Venom protected Peter from the bulk of it, he could smell sulfur and methane and a few other odors he never wanted to smell. Venom released and stepped back, hissing as his tentacle-like tongue slithered and whipped around. As the breeze carried away the smoke, the rooftop was empty aside from the burning remains of the Glider and Spider-Man.

Peter felt as if he should tear off the mask or lecture his partner but he could already hear the firetrucks setting up outside. He'd have to rely on the authorities to investigate the attack for the moment. Turning, Peter picked up speed as he ran towards the far end of the roof. Before he could get there he shot out a web, pushed off, and used his own body weight to accelerate his swing. It had only taken three heartbeats for the battle to end, but as Peter put as much distance as he could between himself and the Daily Bugle he knew the battle was far from over.

****

Norman woke up with a gasp, feeling as if he was suffocating. He lifted his head off the desk in his home office, feeling his face sore and his mouth sour. Licking his lips, he straightened up, trying to figure out what was going on and what had happened. He had been in the lab, hadn't he? He'd sent everyone else home while he kept working and he had tried something out and… had it worked? Pursing his lips, Norman turned and then winced. He hissed at the pain in his upper arm and turned, seeing gauze wrapped around it. Before he could pay it much mind, he heard the sound of the television muffled in the living room.

Rising to his feet, Norman moved toward the door, feeling a little sore. He eased the door open and saw that the sixty two inch screen was broadcasting the damage of the Daily Bugle in stunning high definition. Papers were blowing around in the wind and caution tape had been put up across where the entire floor had been ripped open and exposed to the night sky. Reporters were talking on the street level, though Norman's eyes drifted to the movement of pink hair as Harry turned to look at his father.

“It's sure something, isn't it?" Harry asked. Norman's lips pressed a little in defiance.

“After the way they've been slandering me? Serves 'em right…" Norman said. Harry made an expression, though Norman wasn't sure if he was surprised at that or not surprised at all. The footage of the reporters changed, showing rather stunningly detailed images of Spider-Man fighting a strange goblin-like creature dressed in purple. Harry froze, eyes going wide as he looked at the two. The pictures were credited to J Jonah Jameson on the bottom. Clearly he had survived.

“Oh wow…" Harry muttered. Norman nodded gently, his brows furrowing.

“It's a different game now, isn't it?" Norman asked softly, “Something bigger."

“What?" Harry asked, looking back. Norman shook his head as if to clear it.

“Nothing, nothing." he said, taking a breath, “But this does make me think about what the future holds for us, both Oscorp and the Osborn family. I'm going to have to start doing things a bit differently, present myself differently if I want them to take me seriously." Norman said, walking across the room and licking his bottom lip. He paused on the other side as if he had forgotten something. He turned back and looked at Harry, “And you should probably pick a different color for your hair. Pink is a weak color." he added before moving back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Harry's lips curved into a soft frown at that as his shoulders sank a little lower into the couch.