FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

**SPIDER-MAN

Tangled Web**

Chapter 1

(The Distance Between Us)

The light resolved itself into dozens of tiny circles, fluttering and floating just out of focus. They jittered and shifted with the slightest of movements. A slight adjustment of the aperture, a careful consideration of focus and the Bokeh effect clarified into the very clear and distinct reflection of late afternoon sunlight passing through the bubbles inside of a glass apple sitting on the teacher's desk. The clarity was good, but it wasn't quite right yet. A calloused finger gently adjusted the depth of field on the camera until the classroom windows became gleaming rectangular portals to another world. The camera was steadied, soft lips exhaled slowly, and a finger depressed the shutter.

After so much set up, the pictures themselves almost felt anticlimactic. Newer cameras didn't click. At most they beeped, though Peter had disabled that feature so as not to disturb anyone while he took his pictures. After taking several, the photographer stood back up, leaning against the classroom wall, thumbing his way back through the camera's gallery to review the pictures. The golden sunlight pouring in through the windows caught the copper color of Peter's hair, making it seem even brighter. His Pacific blue eyes sparkled as much with the light as his excitement for capturing the perfect picture.

"You're still here, Perez? I think it's some kind of record when you outlast the teachers." a voice smirked. Peter looked up, catching sight of one of his classmates, Billy. While Peter could easily be mistaken for being a sophomore or junior due to how skinny and lanky he was, both he and Billy were mere months away from graduation. Billy, though, had never been mistaken for a freshman. He was five foot eleven, his blond hair feathered and layered despite the sheen of sweat he gained from playing football. His broad shoulders perfectly fit into the teal and black Letterman's jacket. A gentle but genuine smile crossed Peter's lips.

"The light's a lot better at this time of day." he shrugged. Billy gave a half nod, moving into the classroom.

"You still doing that photography thing?" he asked, his words sounding detached but his interest remaining genuine.

"Yeah, and actually I owe you about thirty dollars for the stock photos you posed for last year." Peter recalled. Billy's eyebrow arched up at that.

"You're still earning money off of those? I thought you would have moved on to like... photojournalism or something by now." Billy said, crossing his arms. Peter shrugged, reaching to scratch at the back of his head.

"The only photographs in news articles these days are ads. There's more money to be made in stock photos. Everyone trying to prove a point wants to use them. As an example, your 'All-American Boy' has earned you thirty dollars." Peter said, opening his wallet to fish out some money. Billy grinned despite himself, more enthusiastic about the concept than the actual payout.

"And what would they call your stock photos?" he asked curiously, leaning against the dry erase board. Peter looked up, blushing a bit.

"Me? I'm just your friendly neighborhood nobody." Peter replied earnestly. Billy made a soft noise at that, shaking his head.

"With your photography skills? I'm sure you could help me with an OnlyFans or something, if you ever wanted to cross over to the dark side." Billy grinned mischievously. Peter's cheeks nearly turned as bright red as his rust-colored hair.

"I-I'll have to think about it." Peter said, offering his classmate the money. Billy thought about walking back his joke, but instead he just smirked, sliding the cash into the pocket of his tight jeans.

"You want a walk back to the subway, or is your friend Harry giving you a ride in his limo?" Billy asked. The color that had so quickly brightened Peter's face drained out of it entirely.

"Oh crap, you're right. If I don't catch the next train, I'm gonna be so late... Billy, thank you so much! I owe you a walk back, but I gotta hurry!" Peter said, bowing his head half in thanks and half to squeeze past Billy's impressive form before darting down the hallway. The smile that had been effervescent on Billy's lips seemed to evaporate into a mild frown. He took in a breath and exhaled slowly before retreating out of the classroom, heading towards the lockers to collect his stuff. Despite his disappointment, a mild smile returned as he heard the sounds of Peter bursting through the heavy doors that led to the stairwell and the staccato of his rapid footfalls.

One advantage to being so skinny and lanky was that Peter could ricochet down the stairs, using his momentum to swing around the guard rails and propel himself just that much faster. By the time he reached the bottom and emerged from the one-way security door onto the street, he nearly missed the cement landings as he plunged into the throngs of the evening pedestrians. In any other city there would have been alarm or surprise, but the citizens of New York merely adapted to the one new variable in the flow of foot traffic.

Long shafts of afternoon light cut between the buildings, creating pools of molten light in between yawning chasms of shadow. Peter regretted slightly that he'd stayed so late. He enjoyed people watching when it was easier to see the people, but the ebbing light was not going to be an obstacle to his journey home. There were many levels to knowing a neighborhood. On a surface level, the city was just a giant grid. The Avenues going North/South and the Streets going East/West. One could easily get from point A to point B. The real city dwellers knew the people that inhabited that neighborhood, their names and families, their likes and dislikes. One might even reach back in time and know the history of the neighborhood, its history from its founding days to the sweeping gentrification to the dreams and aspirations the mighty held for its future.

For Peter Perez... he knew the borough right down to its smells. He knew what food stands were open just from the aromas of the burnt street meat that wafted through the air, coupled with the salty doughy goodness of the pretzels and the zing of the special blends of mustard and relish the vendors used. Peter liked when that aroma overpowered the other scents given that New York was most famous for the smell of garbage, the wet and earthy smell of the city steam and a half dozen other noxious aromas. Still, the Big Apple couldn't bloom without some fertilizer, right?

While Peter had continued to bob and weave, navigating the crowd as best he could, he had eventually surrendered to its tides while avoiding its eddies. Obscenities were a right of passage, a verbal citizenship to the city, but Peter still felt a bit better if he could get where he was going without rustling too many feathers. By the time Peter reached the entrance to the subway, the crowds had thinned out enough to give him a bit more leeway. Worn out sneakers slapped softly against the steps as he trotted his way into the tiled underworld. The heat of the day fell away, replaced with a lukewarm muggy humidity - an oppressive atmosphere that began to stir and swirl with the approaching subway.

Peter skidded to a stop two rows of people back from the track. The headlights of the R-Train cut through the darkness of the tunnel before it came rattling into the light, rumbling by and screeching to an eventual stop. Peter's shaggy hair ruffled from the wind, the baggy red sleeves of his shirt rippling. The doors parted and the ginger haired eighteen-year-old was almost propelled forward by the movement of the others. One hand slipped along his hip, ensuring that his camera was ensconced deep in his pocket to keep it from the reach of any opportunists.

As the passengers diffused in both directions, Peter's cool blue eyes rapidly identified the lack of seats. It was not unexpected. He reached up, bringing his hand to one of the metal rails and the distinctly sticky substance that so liberally coated it. His smile faltering, Peter tried to pry his fingers loose and failed. His face set in an expression of reluctant acceptance, though there was a small pang of relief as the train lurched forward and the sticky handrail only cemented his upright position. The lights of the subway car flickered a little as the vehicle built up speed, rattling and rumbling its way into the dark labyrinth that ran beneath the streets of New York city.

****

There was a thump, a scrape, the click of a failed attempt to turn the doorknob, then a successful one as the door released and swung open gently. Peter had long mastered the art of juggling groceries from the bodega while not sending the door careening into the wall with enough force to leave another dent. The interior of the apartment was a relief, though one Peter wasn't entirely used to. After years of sweltering summer heat and shatteringly cold winters, a pleasantly cool and entirely clean breeze wafted out of the brand new, state of the art air purifier.

Peter navigated his way past the technological marvel, as well as the coffee table currently loaded down with a stack of brand new gaming consoles and a tangle of HDMI cables. The teenager put the bag of groceries down on the counter and opened the fridge to put them away, only to discover every square inch of the fridge had already been filled. It had taken artistry to slot everything in, intersecting cartons and boxes aligned worthy of a Tetris grid. Peter hesitantly opened the freezer to discover it was in the same state.

"Oh, mijo..." A soft, somewhat crestfallen voice came from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Peter turned to see his father standing there, his dark mustache curving with a frown. Hugo Perez was in his early forties, though his black hair already had a few traces of silver here and there. He wore a salmon-colored tank top to combat the heat, the bright color contrasting his rich cinnamon tan skin, "I tried to send you a message saying you didn't have to pick up food, but I haven't figured out my new phone yet. I'm sorry." His rich chestnut brown eyes were deeply apologetic. Peter's smile was a welcome salve to his father's wounded pride.

"It's okay, we'll just make whatever's perishable into our dinner." Peter said, looking into the grocery bag, his eyes calculating for a moment, "How about taco salad?" he offered.

"That sounds brilliant." Hugo said, moving over to rough up Peter's bronze colored hair with his well calloused hand before pulling his son into a hug. It was no secret to anyone that Peter had been adopted, a fact that both Peter and Hugo wore proudly. Peter's only regret was that he so often had to explain to people that Hugo was in fact his father, or that his surname was to honor the man that had adopted him. Still, their family worked for them. Hugo had barely broken out of the hug before he was already brandishing a frying pan in one hand and catching the ground beef that Peter had tossed with the other. Peter grinned brightly at the solution to their issue as he got out the cutting board and started preparing the onion, tomato, lettuce and peppers that would go into their dinner.

"I didn't recognize the brand on the chicken, where did the groceries come from?" Peter asked as he expertly diced the onion.

"I think it's called Sam's Organics, mi cariño had them dropped off so I could show him how good we Perez boys are in the kitchen." Hugo grinned.

"Is he finally going to show up for dinner one of these days?" Peter asked, trying to keep an edge out of his voice. Hugo's smile remained, though his eyes were a bit disappointed.

"You know how busy he is, mijo. It takes a lot of time to change the world." Hugo chided. Peter sighed a little, moving his blade onto the peppers.

"And that's why you fell in love with him." Peter said, repeating a story he'd been told a half dozen times. Hugo's smile brightened again, the one trait he and his son most certainly had in common with one another.

"All of that hard work is finally paying off, though. The city granted final approval for the first public test on Friday. We've been invited for the ribbon cutting." Hugo said. Peter's eyes widened at that, though he immediately regretted the decision as they began to water from the close proximity to the peppers. He winced and ducked back. Hugo made a soft clucking, "I knew you'd be moved to tears, mijo." Hugo said. Peter gave a pained laugh, slapping his father in the stomach for such a bad joke. Hugo merely chuckled, brandishing his spatula to keep the ground beef browning.

****

It took a lot of effort to break through the shell of apathy that the average New Yorker wore, but every so often other emotions could break through. Pride in the city was often a crucial element, and curiosity over innovation was another. After years of what had felt like stagnation in methods of transport, lofty news articles had begun to spring up over the potential of faster than light travel. Several methods had been attempted, including a series of disastrous experiments with quantum entanglement, but it had been the Vacuum Energy Exchange, or VEX, that had promised a history-defining revolution in transportation.

A beautiful glass and steel terminal had been built on the banks of the Hudson River, each irregularly shaped glass pane a different color to honor the kaleidoscope of hues and shades that made up New York City's skyline. The recent development of Hudson Yards had made partnerships with large corporations a fantastic location for showing off a company's ability to innovate. A metallic silver ribbon fluttered across the front of the terminal, held up by placards that promoted the various companies that had funded the research and development for such an auspicious undertaking, Oscorp and the Port Authority being chief among them.

Peter held his camera in front of his stomach almost like a shield, trying not to feel out of place. He and his father had carved out a modest living that had always worked for them. He'd never had the newest clothes, shoes or phones. He'd played with the action figures his father had played with when he was a kid and watched the DVDs of the shows the toys came from. Out of the blue, Hugo had fallen madly and deeply in love with a charming, all-be-it aloof scientist with cash to spare.

Hugo and Peter had been pampered with every piece of technology one could imagine, the best foods, and now the most expensive suit Peter had ever seen in his life. He looked down at the dark blood red metallic fabric, his black button up shirt and black tie crisp in contrast. Hugo had even encouraged Peter to slick back his normally shaggy, spiky hair into something a bit more formal. His camera almost seemed anachronistic in comparison, but that had been Peter's personal achievement. He'd scrimped and saved and worked odd jobs to afford it. Everything else made him feel like an imposter.

"There's my most handsome boy!" Hugo beamed, his voice bubbling over the pop music blasting out of the speakers at either end of the terminal. Peter looked up, his forced smile irresistibly becoming a real one as his father's smile infected his own. Hugo had forgone his normal bright colors for a classier metallic gunmetal gray suit with a black Nehru collar. His dark hair had been pulled tight into a short ponytail that only showed off his mustache and goatee a little more sharply. Two black earrings hung from each ear, calling back to his more adventurous youth. Hugo moved over, kissing Peter's forehead.

"I'm surprised you were able to find me in all this." Peter said.

"A parent knows these things, mijo." Hugo grinned, his eyes brightening a little more as the crowds parted a little to let someone through.

"Peter Perez..." A smooth, deep voice commented with warm intrigue. Peter turned, seeing his father's new boyfriend. The man was a little older than Hugo, in his late forties. His pale skin was in sharp contrast with his dark brown, almost black shaggy hair. Dark eyes were ringed by black circular glasses. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick and his abdomen stout. Perhaps the biggest risk to the relationship between him and Hugo was that if he was already this large, Hugo's cooking would no doubt put even more weight onto him.

"Congratulations Otto, you must be quite proud." Peter said. The scientist gave a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"What can I say, I feel like the luckiest man on Earth right now. I get to present a gift to the world, share it with the love of my life and his most impressive son." Otto replied, though his eyes met Peter's, gazing into the rich blue depths, "But I promise I'll soon be investing the time with both of you that you deserve. I am so thankful that you've been patient with me while I complete this project." he said.

"We both understand, Otto." Hugo said, looking at Peter expectantly. Peter inhaled through his nostrils and forced his smile bigger.

"It takes a lot of time to change the world." Peter said. Otto nodded at that.

"Quite right, Peter, quite right... Now, when you're done with High School, if you're interested in an internship, I think I can make that happen." Otto said. Peter smiled and nodded noncommittally, considering it yet one more gift to win his affection.

"If you don't get up to the stage, no one will be making anything happen." Hugo said. Otto chuckled wryly at that.

"Where would I be without you, my love?" Otto asked, leaning over. His head tilted, his lips coming to Hugo's expectantly as they embraced. Hugo leaned into it, their lips dancing gently together for a moment before they parted. Otto gave Hugo's ribs a careful caress before he turned and started making his way back to the stage. Despite Peter's reservations, he couldn't begrudge his father such obvious and true love. Peter fell in beside his father, the two trying to press forward as much as they could toward the stage as Otto ascended out of the crowd and up the steps.

The flashes of digital cameras and the bright lights of news vans swept across the scientist, forcing the lenses of his circular glasses to tint and darken until they appeared to be opaque against his face. Otto braced the podium for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he rose up to his full height, straightening his back and stretching out his shoulders. Like Peter and Hugo, he wore a fine silver suit, his silver tie embossed with black chevrons that made it look segmented.

"Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you all for joining me here today. I, as many of you know, am Doctor Otto Octavius." he introduced, "I am a proud son of this fine city, a proud citizen, but also a son of immigrants, a son of the American dream. I grew up seeing what a society could accomplish when it came together as a melting pot. It is our communication, our connectivity that enables us. Our world relies on that interconnectivity, but we have all felt the sting of supply chain issues, of shipping delays, or infrastructure limitations. We have tasted the diluted taste, literally and figuratively, of growing food products in one country, shipping them halfway across the world to be packaged, and then shipping them back over the course of months. This is a status quo we can no longer endure." Otto intoned.

With a little bit of an adjustment, Hugo came into focus on Peter's camera. There would be a thousand photographs of Otto and his miraculous achievement, but Peter wanted to capture one of just how happy his dad was, just how proud he was. Hugo was radiating joy as he watched Otto in his presentation. Peter took a few more pictures of his dad before turning his attention back to the presentation.

"Today you will all witness the next step in the way humans interact with one another, in how goods are moved around the world, and how society functions. The Vacuum Energy Exchange will allow you to get a slice of New York's best pizza and then cross the country to enjoy it on a California boardwalk before it even starts to get cold. Safe, efficient travel. The entire world at the tip of your fingers..." Otto said. His statement was punctuated by a flurry of cheers and applause, a smile crossing the lips below the dark circular lenses. This was what he had devoted himself to, what he had worked towards for so long.

****

The presentation outside of the terminal had been spectacle, leading up to the ribbon being cut, the atmosphere inside of the terminal felt a bit more formal. A few television cameras and reporters had been invited inside for the second phase while a live video feed was presented on large projection screens to the gathered masses. Peter had to admit, he was a bit excited to be among those invited inside. The terminal was even more beautiful inside, allowing everyone to look out across the Hudson at Hoboken and Jersey City through glittering shapes of glass, each piece suspended by a veritable web of steel. It reminded Peter of some of the structures built for the Olympics in recent years.

While the terminal was clearly a piece of art, the mechanism it housed was clearly an achievement of science. Eight curved arcs were suspended on gantry arms, everything forged out of steel, copper, silver and gold. A young woman in some sort of uniform stood at a computer console, her nails painted the same shade of dark gray as her uniform. Her eyes remained on the Doctor as he moved around the room. Otto was clearly eating all of this up.

If you'll forgive us plebeians, Doctor, what exactly is a Vacuum energy... exchanger?" One of the older guests asked. Otto smiled a bit, the lower level of light inside the terminal allowing his glasses to return to their transparent state.

"I could hardly call anyone a plebian. It took me over twenty years to answer that very question." Otto said. Hugo smirked softly at the charm of that response. Otto shot Hugo an appreciative smile before returning his attention to the man that had asked the question, "Every law of physics that we've held has acted as an obstacle... Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The sound barrier, the light barrier... It is as if nature itself has attempted to hold back human ambition. Sometimes, if you want to get something done, you have to break some rules." Otto grinned.

"Are you saying you're breaking the laws of physics?" Another patron asked, her voice incredulous. Otto shook his head.

"Breaking? No... Bypassing? Circumventing? Yes... We think in three dimensional terms, but there are so many aspects to our universe that we've barely begun to scratch. Now, I could go on for hours explaining my work, and in fact I have, but I think it might just be easier to show you." Otto said, gesturing to his assistant. The woman in uniform pressed a few buttons and an image came up of a similarly multicolored structure. Despite the glass panels, it was clear that the structure was situated in front of the Space Needle.

"This is a live view of Seattle, Washington." the woman indicated.

"We've performed tests with VEX technology thousands of times in the lab and at two dozen sites around the world. The technology is tested and true. That is why, now, we will mark the first public passengers to transverse the country using VEX." Otto said, "Those of you that received the red invitations, please join me here in the arc... if you want to be a part of history." Otto said. There was a murmur of excitement and five individuals moved forward towards Otto. Some were eager and anticipatory, others hesitant. Hugo looked at Peter with a beaming grin.

"Come on, Peter, this will be so exciting!" Hugo said. Peter's eyes widened in shock.

"W... We're going? Us?" Peter asked. Hugo looked back at his son.

"We're going to support Otto. He's told me all about his tests, he's going too. I have faith in him. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but-" before Hugo could finish, Peter stepped forward. Hugo's smile grew and he gave Peter a nod.

While Hugo and Peter were not the last to join the gathered individuals in the arc, they were among the best dressed. Otto looked over at Hugo and Peter with an appreciable grin, rather self-satisfied with the quality of the suits he'd picked out for them. They were going to make an incredibly handsome family. Otto turned to look at his assistant, then back at the crowds.

"We are each going to take up a position denoted on the floor, allowing for the vacuum energy exchange to take place. You will see us enveloped; you will see us disappear. Then you will see us reappear there, across the country in Seattle... and then a few moments later, you will see us return. It will be an amazing feat, and a cherished homecoming." Otto said. Peter looked down, moving to center himself on the copper circle embedded into the cement floor. Hugo did the same, smiling at his son, then Otto. Otto returned the affection, moving to take his own circle.

For a moment there was nothing, a silence broken only by the breathing of the guests gathered to watch. Then a low, almost subharmonic hum began to rise. Peter could feel it in his diaphragm, in his bones. The copper and gold elements on the emitter arcs began to glow, shimmer, ripple, and then blaze. Each one was like the crescent of a sun setting beneath the horizon. Peter felt a pressure building around him, comforting like a weighted blanket. His arms tucked closer to his sides. He turned his head to look at his father, but Hugo was looking into Otto's eyes. There was a flutter of color, a moment where time seemed to hesitate, and then everything disappeared.

The sudden flurry of movement and colors might have made some individuals ill, a fact that Peter might have to suggest they put up warnings about. Peter remembered one of his few family vacations as a young child before his parents had passed away, going to a water park. He'd been so excited to go on the waterslide, then so shocked at how long the tunnel had been. It felt a little like that now, but not quite... He was traveling sideways, for one, and there was a strange sense that there was danger very close by. Maybe it was the vacuum bubble making him feel claustrophobic, but if space was infinite, why did it feel that if he reached out, something might snap off his fingers?

The medium through which Peter traveled was an uneven blue haze, light and dark segments. Whenever he seemed to pass through a thicker section, that feeling of being too close came back, as if the fog was hiding something. Peter could probably take a class from the Doctor to understand just what he was experiencing, but before he could give it too much more thought or wonder just how much air was in his particular vacuum pocket, the pressure around him suddenly released, the haze dissipated in an instant and he felt ground beneath his feet again.

There were startled murmurs and gasps of surprise. Hugo's large hands came into a clap before he lunged over and hugged Otto, giving him a bear hug to rival the pressure of the vacuum pocket. The woman that had asked about breaking the laws of physics opened her mascara framed eyes.

"Did anything happen? Have we left yet?" She asked before turning around, gasping a bit at the view of the Space Needle through the glass. Otto grinned, his chest puffing up with pride.

"I'd say history happened... No small step for us, one giant leap for mankind." Otto grinned, moving to kiss Hugo affectionately on the cheek. Peter smiled at that, although he winced as he realized that he should have tried to take pictures as they traveled... Maybe on the way back he'd be able to. Reporters were already swarming Otto, this set having only been able to record his earlier speech from television screens. Now they had their chance to have their piece of the man and the legend, though he held up his hand to hold them back.

"I am sure there will be time for questions, but if you'll excuse me, my boyfriend and I are going to try Seattle's best coffee." Otto said. That alone set off a flurry of titters and conversation that would no doubt make its rounds through the tabloids. Peter just smiled with a bit of relief that Otto wasn't shying away from his father's love in the public limelight.

****

Night had fallen and Peter was left taking in the sights of another of America's crown jewels. The air was so different, the smell so different, the coffee so... amazing. Peter held the paper cup in both of his hands, sipping at it, feeling the faint rush of caffeine through his veins. It probably wasn't a good idea to be having coffee so late, but it wasn't as if he was going to sleep after the experience he'd had. Dinner with Otto and Hugo had been great, though the paparazzi was already starting to hound the scientist. Discussions had been had and Otto had announced that those granted red and gold invitations would be able to cross back and forth between New York and Seattle at will until maintenance the following morning at ten Eastern time.

Electing to give his dad the chance for an impromptu date, he'd asked to stay behind a few hours and come home later. Hugo had given him one of those knowing looks before eagerly accepting the opportunity. Peter had seen the sights, had a little more food, and done some shopping. As nice as the suit Otto gave him was, it wasn't confusive to tourism. The suit had been neatly packed up into a cheap backpack and a much more comfortable black and orange tye-dye hoodie now kept the red headed teenager warm. To complete the look, he'd found some eclectic black pants with orange straps in a thrift shop.

The sounds of Seattle weren't quite the same, although they were close. There were still sirens, still shouts, still traffic even as the night grew late. The euphoria of the day's events were waning a bit as Peter realized that there was a very distinct chance he could get mugged across the entire continent from home. He tipped the coffee back, savoring every last drop before tossing the cup into a trash receptacle. The walk back to the terminal was pleasant enough, the structure now glowing with a rainbow of light. The shape of this terminal was slightly different than the one back home, but the elements that made it up were the same. Peter smiled a bit at that, pulling the door open as he moved inside.

The attendant started to move toward him, a look of objection in his eyes until Peter withdrew the red invitation card from the pouch of his hoodie. The attendant relaxed, nodding as he moved over to the console. There was a faint pop as one of the other guests arrived on one of the other platforms, a slight giggle escaping her lips at the thrill of it all. A moment later, her companion appeared next to her.

"Back and forth in the blink of an eye, isn't it marvelous, Richard?" she asked.

"It makes me a little dizzy, darling." Richard said. Peter hesitated.

"How many times have you been back and forth?" Peter asked. The woman looked up, smiling warmly.

"At least five now. I may have to get one of those watches that updates itself, I'll never get the hang of these time zones." she smirked.

"And each time, it feels instant? What do you see when you transit?" Peter asked. The woman looked mildly annoyed, eyes narrowing as she made sure he was in fact the boy that had traveled with them earlier.

"The same thing you do, a whoosh of color, a moment of darkness, and then you're back." she said. Clearly that was the limit for her tolerance for such foolishness as she took Richard's hand, walking him out of the terminal. Peter's heart fluttered slightly in his chest as he moved to step onto the copper circle in front of one of the arcs. The attendant pressed the appropriate buttons and the metallic emitters began to shimmer, glow and then radiate. Peter felt the pressure build around him, squeezing him in on himself. The attendant seemed to slow, motion coming to a crawl. The bright colors of the terminal fizzled, then snapped.

There was a moment of darkness, but Peter felt the sudden inertia as he plunged through whatever haze existed between the terminals. The blue illumination to the fog was darker with fewer points of light. It swirled and snapped around him as he moved, although he couldn't tell if he was displacing it or not. Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end, his heart beating faster. There was something out there, something close, something dangerous. Peter reached into his pocket, finding it incredibly difficult to move. Despite the constraints, though, he managed to get his camera out of his pocket and pressed in front of himself.

"Doesn't have to be award worthy..." Peter murmured to himself as he depressed the shutter. The camera let out a bright snap of light that Peter hadn't been expecting. The light snapped out into the dark haze... and reflected off of something - or rather, four somethings. They had been ovoid, slightly angled. The flash had been short, but the way they had caught the light had been like headlights reflecting off the eyes of an animal on the side of the road. Whatever Peter had caught, he inhaled sharply as he felt an immediate and sharpened sense of dread just before something hit him.

The vacuum energy burst and Peter went tumbling forward, falling over himself and skidding across a hard surface. He coughed and sputtered as something stretched and gainst his face and stuck. He tried to reach up to brush it clear, feeling the same resistance snagging his arms before he finally came to a stop. Peter grunted and groaned, pushing himself upright. Wherever he was was dark, although there was a faint, pale white light at one end far behind him and another somewhere above. Peter looked down to see that he was covered in a thick layer of dust and festooned with a thick mesh of spider webs.

"Please let this be someone's attic..." Peter murmured to himself, pressing his hands against the floor to get himself back up onto his feet. His shoulders ached from where his backpack had nearly been ripped from his body. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust more. He looked one way, then the other, then paused. For several moments there was absolute silence, but then there was a rising noise. It was like a gust, a gale, and then it hit him. "The Doppler effect!" Peter said, hearing the sound hit its maximum and dissipate again. Wherever he was, he was near the transit corridor for the VEX. He just had to find a way to get going again... assuming it would be that easy...

Peter's mouth, so used to smiling, curved into a frown. There was a very real possibility that he'd been lost somewhere in between, somewhere unreachable. As terrifying as that thought was, it had been far too easy to get lost. No one else had realized the danger they were in because, for whatever reason, they didn't perceive the transit time in between. Had it really taken a little wiggling and a camera flash to throw the entire process out of the window? What had he seen in the void? Peter inhaled at that before scrambling to his pouch. He reached back in, pulling his camera out.

With a deft flick of the switch, Peter threw the camera into gallery mode. The picture that came up had been affected by the motion blur, the pixelation far from ideal, but in that dark blue haze was a distinct impression of four silver eyes peering at Peter, the eyes that no doubt belonged to some sort of creature that knocked him out of his transit. Whatever it was no doubt would take offense to all these passengers going back and forth through its domain. Peter didn't just have to get back for his own sake, he had to get back and warn everyone before it was too late.

The eighteen year old stood there in the darkness, his rust colored hair spiked with sweat and dust. The hood of his shirt had fallen back, revealing his neck. Only his skin and the silky white webs spread across his dark clothing stood out in the darkness, but it was enough. Something small began to descend from the ceiling, dropping with an unnatural grace along a single silver strand of silk. Its legs were steepled together, using gravity and momentum in its descent, but as it neared Peter, it spread its legs apart.

The faint light from above glistened over the spider's abdomen, the exoskeleton a dark shade of orange like burnt amber, speckled with brighter shades. The insect's eyes were inky black pools, but they saw Peter's orange and black tye-dye sweatshirt. It landed on the hook, mere millimeters from his bare neck. Peter's head was still leaned forward, looking at the creature on his camera screen. He had sensed the danger and the threat as he passed through the transit tunnel, but he couldn't feel the spider until it began to crawl onto his bare flesh.

Before Peter could raise his head, the spider lowered his. Two tiny fangs pierced into the flesh, breaking the skin. Peter's eyes went wide in concern, then terror as his neck began to sting, throb, and then tingle. Peter jumped forward, brushing his hand across the back of his neck. His finger connected with something, sending it tumbling into the darkness. Peter let out a soft whimper, realizing that he didn't have the luxury of time. He slid the camera back into his pouch, looked around and elected to head toward the only light source he could reach.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the cavernous space as he tried to pick up speed. Sweat was already starting to bead across his forehead, soaking into the chest of his t-shirt and running down the small of his back. His footsteps were echoing more than they should have, the light at the end of the hall strobing and pulsing in time with Peter's heartbeat. The rise and fall of the vacuum pockets passing was the only thing that gave Peter any hope whatsoever. He kept going, pressing on even as the room started to feel as though it was tilting and surging, uneven like the sea.

"Dad..." Peter whispered to himself. He had to get home, he had to see his dad again, he had to be there to warn him, to protect him, to beg Otto to shit this whole thing down. It was too dangerous, it was too risky, it was too... far... Peter felt nauseated. His blood felt like fire, his bones aching. He could feel that he had soaked the pits of his shirt. Peter lowered his head, though he winced as that only made the bite on the back of his neck feel worse. He gritted his teeth, raised his head and broke into a sprint. His feet came in rapid staccato, just like at school. The light grew brighter, coming closer. It only took a few more strides before Peter realized what the source of the light was... another arc.

It took everything Peter had not to fall to his knees when he reached it. While the curved, glowing strip of segmented metal was the same, the struts holding it seemed completely alien. They looked as if they had been formed out of poured, molten obsidian that had hardened into tendrils of black glass. There was also a hexagon etched into the stone floor. Peter stood on the shape, closed his eyes and prayed. The ginger haired teenager nearly squeaked as he felt the pressure squeeze around him, the vacuum energy ensnaring him before that dark, dusty space fell away.

Peter hurtled through the darkness again, the foggy haze around him shifting from dark blue to a faint orange like the early rays of sunrise. He wasn't sure if something had changed in the transit tunnel or if the venom coursing through his veins was affecting his vision. All he knew was that the journey lasted only for a few more moments before he snapped out of the vacuum pocket and the New York terminal resolved around him. Peter made one more unintelligible noise of relief before he crumpled and fell to the floor. He heard distant screams of alarm and felt the thumping of feed approaching him as he surrendered to the simmering heat of unconsciousness.

****

"Peter?" The voice echoed, sounding both distant and as if it were inside his head. His eyebrows knit together, his cheeks tightening. "Peter, can you hear me?" The voice asked, this time more coherent. Peter started to open his eyes but nearly hissed as the light hit them. "Turn off the overheads." Otto's voice said. There was a click, then a gentle pressure on Peter's shoulder, "Go ahead Peter, it's darker now." he said. Peter blinked slightly, exhaling as the stress on his face relaxed. His dark blue eyes were still dilated, his hair sticking up wildly with sweat. His shirts had been removed, replaced with a hospital gown and several leads.

"Doctor..." Peter said, looking up, his eyes widening, "Is my dad here?"

"Right here, mijo." Hugo said from the corner of the room, finding it hard not to burst forward with his relief. His smile was soft and gentle, though his forehead was wrinkled with concern. Otto squeezed Peter's shoulder.

"How are you feeling, my boy?" He asked. Peter opened his mouth to respond but didn't for a moment. He felt warm, but the burning in his veins was gone. He felt worn out but the dizziness was gone.

"Did they give me anything?" Peter asked, looking down at his wrist. There was a cannula there but no IV. Otto shook his head.

"They took a few blood samples as a precaution, but your levels were normal. They didn't need to give you anything." Otto said. Peter's expression tightened a little.

"They were normal?" Peter asked in disbelief. Otto shrugged a little.

"Your blood pressure was a little off. Your oxygenation was a bit low. They're running some more extended tests, but so far it seems consistent with syncope." Otto said. All good will drained from Peter's face.

"You think I fainted?" Peter asked.

"It's a perfectly natural response, several of our test subjects demonstrated similar symptoms in the initial tests before we fine tuned the process. It may be the new generation's version of motion sickness or jet lag." Otto smiled. Peter looked directly into the doctor's eyes.

"How many of your passengers are able to see the journey?" Peter asked. While Otto's body did not move, his face stiffened ever so slightly before he forced a smile, leaning to turn and look over his shoulder at Hugo.

"My love, I think it might be a good idea to get some more fluids into Peter. I know I'm not that kind of doctor, but it's always good to have fluids, right?" Otto asked. Hugo's eyes widened and he nodded, moving to the bedside to rub Peter's arm.

"I'll be right back, mijo." he said with a nod of his head before he excused himself from the room. Otto kept smiling until he was sure Hugo was gone before he looked back at Peter. Peter crossed his arms over himself, waiting for an answer. Otto grimaced a little, reaching up to adjust his glasses.

"In the initial tests, there was no stasis effect. The passengers experienced motion sickness, fast breathing, disorientation, nausea. We were able to adjust the exchange to make it seem as if the journey only took an instant." Otto said in a low voice.

"But it didn't work on me. I saw the transit both times, everything the passengers are traveling through, everything they're traveling by." Peter said. Otto slowly straightened up more at that, perspiration starting to bead on his brow.

"Perhaps, when you're feeling better, this is something we should discuss at my lab, Peter." Otto said. Peter's eyes widened a little at that.

"You know there's something out there. You know there's a danger..." Peter whispered. Otto looked a bit more agitated.

"Every advance comes with risk at first; the automobile, the locomotive, the airplane... Once the technology is proven, the risks can be minimized." Otto said. Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing, his jaw hanging open slightly.

"We're not talking about adding seat belts. There's something out there, something alive! You aren't just proving the technology. You're sending people back and forth already!" Peter said. Otto's lips curled into a snarl.

"I am trying to save the human race! We can't keep on like this. The transportation infrastructure is one of the largest contributors to climate change, and that's just the beginning. We can't turn back when we're this close. Peter, you have to understand... I'm sure there's a way to bridge the distance between us." Otto said. Peter opened his mouth to respond, but the door to the exam room opened and Hugo moved back in. Peter's gaze slipped down to the floor.

"I didn't know what kind of juice you wanted, so I got apple and pear." Hugo said. Peter forced his head up, smiling a smile he didn't feel.

"Thank you dad, that's perfect." he said softly, accepting the first cup while Hugo set the second on the rolling metal tray next to the bed. Otto stared at Peter expectantly but Peter didn't make eye contact with him. It was obvious that an impassioned plea for reason wasn't going to change Otto's mind. He'd have to figure out another way to persuade him, hopefully before it was too late. All three men looked up as there was a gentle knock at the door and a nurse entered the room holding a small plastic cup with several pills in it.

"Peter Perez?" the nurse asked.

"Yes?" Peter asked.

"The doctor has a slight medication change for you before discharge, Potassium Iodide. You have your first dose here and the pharmacy will send up a bottle to go home with you. I just have to scan your bracelet." The nurse said, moving to bring over a hand scanner from the computer terminal to swipe over the QR code on the plastic bracelet hanging from Peter's right wrist. Hugo shifted his weight a little.

"Would it be a good idea to have bananas too? Or would that be too much potassium?" Hugo asked. Otto's jaw clenched slightly.

"That's normal potassium. Potassium iodide is usually added to table salt." Otto said. Peter wracked his brain, searching everything he'd been studying until it clicked.

"It is also used to help with radiation exposure." Peter added. The nurse nodded, a little impressed with the shared knowledge in the room.

"There were some trace elements in the blood samples we took. Nothing too dangerous, but enough that the doctor thought it wise to take precautions. Have you been anywhere unusual recently?" the nurse asked, handing Peter the plastic cup of pills.

"You could say that." Peter responded before he tipped the cup back, letting the pills land on his tongue before he washed them down with the apple juice his father had obtained for him.

****

As any self respecting teenager would be, Peter was no stranger to pulling all nighters. They were usually fun or frantic, sleepovers or homework cram sessions. Peter had never been as bone tired as he was by the time they left the hospital. Even at five in the morning, the air was hot and muggy. A marine layer had rolled in, capturing the orange-blue artificial twilight of the city and showering it down across the streets. The entire ride back with Otto had been awkward but Peter had accepted because anything else would have meant another hour of waiting. He'd made his way up to the apartment, leaving his father to say whatever people said to ethically questionable scientists.

Peter kicked his shoes off, peeling his sweatshirt off of himself before he collapsed forward onto his bed. He grunted feebly, realizing he was on top of his covers. He tried a few times to tug at it before folding the blanket halfway over himself. As he let his sweaty, spike haired head sink into the pillow, he let it engulf him. Somehow, despite all odds, he'd managed to make it back home. He'd have to find a way to convince Otto that what he was doing was reckless and dangerous, but that was a problem for future him.

There was something incredibly liberating about surrendering to sleep when one was that exhausted. He felt his brain floating around inside his head, willing his body to just accept the fact that he wasn't going to move. He heard the door to his bedroom creak open for a moment, then edge shut. Peter smiled a little at that, glad his dad had checked on him. Somewhere in the distance Peter could hear a car revving its engine, somewhere further away there was a siren. Muffled, distant conversations and the gentle rumble of thunder. All of it was comforting to Peter. This was his neighborhood, his borough, his home. With that comforting thought, Peter fell back into a deep, restful unconsciousness.

Sprawled out on the bed, the teenager looked peaceful in his slumber. His brain had finally quieted and grown still enough for dreams to begin. As he slept, his body worked on the laborious task to heal and repair itself. Normally it was a subtle process, taking place at a slightly accelerated rate at night compared to the day, but this time was different. The abrasions on his hand from scraping across the stone floor knit themselves together, fresh pink flesh filling in the divots and imperfections that pierced his hands.

Cuts and scrapes on his cheek and ear, however minor, disappeared entirely. Tiny invisible hairs on his forearms and ankles grew in more evenly and even the pores on Peter's face seemed to flush themselves, aided by the sheen of sweat building across his body. As Peter's temperature rose, it seemed ever more of a blessing that he hadn't been able to get the covers over himself. Drop by drop, the dewy sweat slicked his forehead, his neck, his underarms. The shirt and pants he still wore absorbed most of it, but the spiking temperature was enough for Peter to roll over, murmuring in his sleep.

The eighteen year old spread his legs to reduce how much of his skin was touching itself. He buried his face in his pillow, his rust colored hair standing straight up. One arm draped over the edge of the bed, dangling almost all the way to the floor. As he tried to shift positions, he drew his two middle fingers up, catching them under his thumb. There was a strange, pleasant pressure that seemed to throb right behind his wrist, pulsing as the flesh grew a little redder there, but as he rolled over onto his other side, he drew his arm up and the pressure faded away.

As comforting as the idea had been to merely surrender to sleep, Peter could feel his fever. The muggy air and lack of any air conditioner for his room meant that he was at the mercy of the weather. He pushed himself up with one arm, grabbing at his shirt with the other. Peter tried to pull it off, but when the shirt caught and he heard the sound of tearing at the collar, he cursed mildly under his breath and just pulled at it. The shirt resisted for only a moment before the seams popped and the fabric split. The tattered edges pulled away from shoulders that were no longer pale or flat. There was definition there as specific muscles developed.

Peter's back arched in the orange glow of the city lights, skin rippling over new muscles that fanned themselves out from his spine, slipping over his ribs and around to his stomach. The arm holding him up slowly grew, his biceps and triceps disrupting the smooth contours of his arms like new islands rising from the sea. Unaware of just how much his body was 'healing' him, Peter felt the last scraps of shirt fall away and he promptly collapsed back into his mattress. Even in his deepest slumber, though, more and more ankle was becoming visible as his legs slowly stretched out from the cuff of his pants, his bare feet stretching longer and wider. Each toe was as plump and adorable as they had ever been, but each digit stretched just that much longer.

It had only been the previous morning that Peter Perez could have been mistaken for a teenager, but in the course of an hour's rest that had all changed. He was taller, stronger, broader shouldered and thicker limbed. Even his boyish good looks had shifted slightly as rust colored stubble began to grow from the point of his chin. Peter winced as his gangly limbs bumped into the wall as he moved, his feet reaching the end of the twin mattress for the first time. Every cut and scrape had healed, even an old scar on his hand he'd gotten from a particularly nasty papercut had disappeared. Even the skin under the hospital's cannula site had closed up entirely, leaving nothing but the bandage over virgin skin. The only mark left on his body was the twin pinpricks of spider fangs on the back of his neck, marks that were fading into little more than freckles.

****

Long, bare, well arched feet padded their way across the kitchen floor. Peter's long legs were equally bare, only a pair of baggy red plaid boxers giving him any modesty. Peter had all but crawled out of bed, answering the higher calling of his bladder, then his stomach. He'd only opened his eyes once on the entire journey from the bathroom to the kitchen, but he had made it to his destination. The fridge opened with a pop of the seal. The teenager unscrewed the lid of the milk, hoisted the carton and started to gulp. His Adam's apple bobbed with each purloined swallow before he finally lowered the carton, exhaling with a sigh of relief.

Returning the milk to its spot in the overstuffed fridge, Peter started grazing. He finished off a fragment of cheese, savored a slice of roast beef, even managed to use some celery to scoop up hummus. The rust colored hair that had already been sweat soaked the night before had become a bedhead nightmare worthy of medusa. It was only when he'd finished his third cherry tomato out of the crisper drawer that he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye - pancakes. Peter's lips tightened a little. His dad had gone to the effort of making him pancakes before reluctantly heading to work and he hadn't even noticed...

Guilt swam through Peter's heart, though that sensation was followed swiftly by a deep and resonant growl from his stomach. Closing the fridge, Peter collected his bowl of pancakes and liberally added some syrup, taking the time to lift each pancake and add a little in between the layers. When he was satisfied, he retrieved the jug of milk from the fridge and carried it and his pancakes into the living room. The gangly eighteen year old sunk onto the couch, using his fork to cut into the breakfast with ease. Letting the cool jug of milk rest against his hip, he grabbed the remote and turned it on.

"-ringing endorsement from the Mayor of both cities has been yet another accolade for Doctor Otto Octavius and the entire VEX team. Oscorp has announced plans to begin construction of two more sites within the next few weeks, citing San Francisco and Tokyo as the next terminals." The newscaster said. Peter grimaced at that, his hunger pangs and growing pangs fading for the moment. He exhaled a bit, looking at the video. Otto was back in Seattle at the other end of the country. Peter wasn't sure he'd even be welcomed through and the idea of risking another traverse seemed hazardous at best.

Peter sprung off the couch, though he gasped as he over-shot his destination and nearly crashed into the shelves that held all of his dad's DVDs. Peter looked back over his shoulder at the couch, trying to figure out how he'd so badly judged his own strength. They were the same old cushions. Shaking it off, Peter moved back into his bedroom. He reached for his phone, though his fingers bumped it before he was expecting to reach the device. It toppled off the wireless charger, ricocheting its way back and forth between the nightstand and the wall.

"Awww man, c'mon..." Peter groaned, his brows creasing. He tried to plan his angle of attack and ended up getting up on his bed, stretching out his arm into the crevice behind the nightstand. As he reached, he stretched his arm as far as he could, extending his index and pinky fingers to try and catch either side of the phone. As his middle fingers pressed against his palm, Peter felt a sudden release of wet pressure, a pulsating pleasure that radiated up his arm, and an unanticipated torque tugging against his wrist.

Ever so slowly, Peter drew his arm back out of the hole. As it came out, a glistening, rubbery tendril of woven fibers extended out from his wrist, hanging down a few inches. The end of the strange sticky substance had splattered outward across the screen of his phone, adhering well enough that he'd fished the device out of the hole with little to no effort. Wide eyed and slack jawed, Peter slowly peeled his cellphone free of the apparent webbing. Peter plucked the loose fibers from his wrist, rubbing his thumb over the skin. While he couldn't see exactly where it had come from, he certainly felt when he rubbed the spot.

"Fuck..." Peter murmured, his eyes squeezing shut. It hadn't just felt good to use it, it felt good to touch it... But then again, he hadn't even been trying to use it. Peter opened his eyes, biting his lower lip as he raised his right arm again. Holding the long limb outward, he slowly pulled his middle two fingers back, tipping his wrist forward. As he felt his tendons and ligaments pull, there was a sudden rush of pleasure and a barely audible 'thwip' sound as translucent white webbing launched from Peter's wrist, splattering and anchoring across the cover of one of Peter's textbooks. As Peter drew his hand back, the book was dislodged from its perch and Peter tried to jump out of the way of the heavy mass hurtling towards his foot.

In an effort to avoid one source of pain, however, Peter had jumped into the corner of his room, hitting his head on a hat rack, sending the metal ornamentation and the six hats clattering down around him as he crashed down to the floor. He sat there for a moment in shame, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and two baseball hats, one on his lap and one on his knee. It seemed that with great pleasure came great risk of danger as well. Whatever was happening to him, he'd have to adapt to, but he couldn't let anyone else be at risk any longer than he had to.

Climbing out of the pile of accessories, Peter grabbed his phone and flipped through the gallery. Finding the picture of the great beast that dwelled in the fog between terminals, he sent the picture to Otto along with a short message that they would have to talk. Peter stood there for a moment, waiting and watching. There was no read receipt, no indicator that Otto was writing a response. If he was in meetings it could take some time... and time was what Peter needed to figure out just what that spider bite had done to him.

****

After a lifetime of being an early riser, the late afternoon light felt as though it had come far sooner than it had any right to. The weather had, thankfully, cooled down enough that Peter wasn't sweltering in his orange and black tye-dye sweatshirt and his black and orange strapped pants. It had only been when Peter was getting dressed that he realized how much tighter everything was, and by extension that his chest and arms had filled out. He'd pulled the hood up over his messy hair and pulled on a black fabric mask that covered everything below his eyes. There wasn't enough room in his room to figure out just what he was capable of so he'd gone down to the alley behind his apartment.

Peter inhaled and exhaled, trying to control his breathing. This was crazy... He should have turned himself into the professionals to be checked out, examined... or dissected? Just what would they do? He'd been exposed to some sort of alien insect and now he was shooting webs out of his wrist... and he wanted to shoot out a lot more of it. Peter shook his head and bounced from foot to foot like a boxer prepping for the ring. Looking up at the aged, weathered brick of the apartment building, Peter took one last breath as he lowered his center of gravity, drew his gaze upward and jumped.

It was only when Peter's trajectory had taken him a good twelve feet in the air that he understood the inexcusable lack of a plan. He reached out to brace himself against hitting the wall, but instead of bouncing off of it, he felt the rugged grit of the old brick fit his fingers so well it was as if it had been tailored to him. Every ridge and ripple of his fingerprints found a corresponding divot and dimple. Adhering to the wall was impressive enough, but any normal person would have been dangling from the grip like a limp fish on a hook. Peter's body had instinctively reacted to his precarious perch.

Every muscle, tendon and ligament had flexed to spread Peter's mass out. Torque, tension and compression had become sheer instinct. His fingers held him upright, but his knees and feet kept the pressure from remaining entirely on his hands. As Peter moved his feet, he felt an odd draw towards the wall from his extremities. It was like a pull, or maybe a pressure - a pressure like he'd felt with the vacuum energy. The thrill and excitement of the experiment waivered a bit, but Peter slowly drew his knees away from the wall and tried pressing the sole of his foot to it. Even though he was wearing sneakers, he could feel his feet adhering to the wall, giving him one more anchor.

Deciding not to look his gift horse in the mouth, Peter raised his head to look at the roofline above himself and he started to climb. Hand over hand, foot after foot, he climbed the side of the building in record time. Every hand hold was a certainty, every footfall a pushing off point. Peter stretched his hand out for that last grasp, clutching the cement rim of the building with one hand, then the other. He planted his feet, pulled with his arms and sprung up over the edge. He arched nimbly and gracefully over, landing with a roll across the cement roof. He went with the inertia of the roll and used the momentum to get back to his feet, landing in a run that only picked up acceleration.

Peter's chest rose and fell, his breath hot inside his mask. His eyes scanned the rest of the roof, then the building beyond. Peter held out both hands and bent his fingers back. He inhaled sharply as both wrists produced braided cables of the pliable webbing that laced its way out to stick to the roof of the next building over. As Peter moved, he tugged on the webs, wrapping his hands around him. His own apartment building fell away beneath him as he went sailing into the air. The double-web had acted almost like a slingshot, sending him over his destination. What Peter had failed to realize was the distinct lack of another building on the other side. His heart leaped into his chest as he started to plummet downward. He shot out another web, catching a streetlight on his descent. The web grew taught, his downward momentum became forward inertia and he swung back up on the other side.

"Whoo-hoo!" Peter exclaimed with unrestrained delight, releasing the first web at the apex of his swing, launching another just in time to catch a stone gargoyle on the corner of a larger building. While Peter's movements weren't entirely fluid, it seemed that the technique was a form of muscle memory and Peter had woken up with far more muscles than he'd gone to bed with. The teenager's grin was nearly ear to ear, obscured beneath the mask. Every kid dreamed of flying growing up, but this was better... He wasn't just flying, he was web slinging and moving through his neighborhood as if it was an extension of his own body. Peter had never felt more alive.

Despite Peter's enthusiasm, there were still some limits to the experience. As good as a disguise was, Peter had already deduced from a few gasps, shouts and screams that he wasn't going entirely unnoticed. Future experiments might be safer to conduct at night. Second, Peter had realized that his cheek muscles were getting sore. It wasn't just from smiling, though he had done a lot of that, but also from the conscious effort it was taking to filter out everything.

Peter's momentum slowed as he changed trajectory, arching up and over the edge of a roof, landing on his feet relatively gracefully. The teenager sank down into a crouch, his knees resting against his chest, his arms resting at his sides. He breathed slowly through his mask. Despite his eyes being closed, the glow of the late afternoon sun shone through the lids to fill his senses with a warm, comforting orange hue. With a little bit of concentration, everything fell back into its place. The sirens were sirens, the horns were horns, the rattle of the elevated rail in the distance echoed off the buildings... and he heard a pained grunt, a scuffle, and then-

Peter's hands went up at once as he grabbed his temples, his eyes and ears throbbing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as did the hairs on his arms. Fear, panic, terror... but it wasn't his own. It was close by. Peter remained low on the roof line, advancing on all fours to the edge, slowly peering over the edge down several stories to what was happening in the alleyway below. A man in his late twenties was sprawled on his back, his straight black hair falling over his face, a fresh bruise welling up on his cheek. Despite his injury, he was crab walking back from the three young men in leather jackets, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses. What little light made it into the alley glinted off of a blade one of them was brandishing.

"I thought we had an arrangement, Ken... You never know what's going to happen to you if you don't keep up with your premiums." The thug brandishing a blade said. Despite the pain, despite the danger, the man on the ground looked up, the hair falling away from indignant brown eyes.

"We never agreed to anything. You just thought if you acted tough enough, people would pay you for 'protection'. This isn't some movie." Ken said. The two other thugs clicked their tongues, shaking their heads. Emboldened by the backup, the leader chuckled gently, swaying the blade side to side.

"I think all hesitations will be removed when I demonstrate my resolve, Ken. The only question is if you want to be a living example, or a dead one..." The thug shrugged. Ken said nothing. The thug sighed gently, "Dead it is." he said before he took a step forward, his arm moving to swing before he realized that the blade was no longer in his grasp. The thug looked at his empty hand, then Ken, but Ken wasn't looking at him. Ken was looking over his shoulder. The thug spun around in time to see one of his buddies suddenly sail upwards, now dangling from a drainpipe on the side of the building. The other thug was wobbling, his mouth covered with a strange sticky webbing. There was a sudden splort of something coming down and then he, too, suddenly jolted upright to hang from a fire escape on the other side of the alley.

"What the hell?!" The thug asked. He turned around, shaking, looking at Ken, "What did you do?!" he asked, an almost childish yelp escaping from the thug's shoulder as someone tapped him on the shoulder. The thug turned around, coming face to mask with someone dressed in an orange and black hoodie, a mask over the lower half of their face and a rather mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

"What he did was find a better form of protection... One that doesn't take kindly to harassment, intimidation or any form of extortion. Now, if you could do me one favor and look right there, please?" Peter asked, pointing over his shoulder. In confusion, both the thug and Ken looked at the end of the alley where there was a quick flash of a camera adhered to the brick wall. "Excellent! That will be perfect for the police report." Peter said, bringing his hands up.

As he squeezed his fingers to his palms, one spray of webbing hit the thug in the ankles, the other hitting him around his midsection. With a quick flick of his wrists, Peter sent a tether to stick to the thug before launching the other end at the roofline. The thug screamed out obscenities, dangling helplessly from where he'd been stuck. Peter turned around, offering the older man his hand. Ken looked at it and then the masked man before hesitantly accepting it.

"Who are you?" Ken asked gently, looking up at the three criminals. While the mask hid Peter's smile, his eyebrows arched with amusement as an idea formed in his mind.

"Me? I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Peter said, bowing his head before he moved to the wall and began ascending, plucking his camera from where he'd placed it before disappearing up onto the roof. Ken stared upwards at where the young man had been before turning back to regard the three thugs dangling helplessly.

****

The silence of Peter's bedroom was suddenly filled with street and city noises as the old window pane with the faintly warped glass was hoisted up. One long leg slipped through, then the other, the rest of Peter's body following like some sort of strange game of limbo. As soon as the lanky young man righted himself, he grabbed at his now sweat soaked sweatshirt and peeled it off his body, letting it fall to the floor. He winced as he tugged his mask off, his ears wobbling from the straps. He shook his head, his rust colored hair overly moist. He tried to take his shoes off but one literally crumbled apart, the rubber soles having worn from the unexpected wear and tear.

"I'm going to have to figure out something else to wear..." Peter murmured to himself, fishing his cellphone out of his pocket before he discarded his pants. It had been an eventful afternoon - far more eventful than he'd anticipated. He'd nearly made the first report to the police without installing a VPN on his phone to hide his identity, but he'd stopped one extortion, two muffins and a carjacking. It was exhilarating. He'd been courageous, witty, smart and totally heroic. Peter checked the time on his phone, but when he looked up, he caught his reflection in the mirror by his closet.

Just a day and a half ago he'd been a plucky, gangly, chronically youthful highschooler. He still had his youthful charm, of course, but the last rays of sunset were caressing actual pectoral muscles, defined abdominal muscles and a faint dusting of hair peeking up from the waistband of his underwear. Peter looked at how messy his hair was, smelled the sweat and musk he'd produced from such a heavy workout. His nipples ached, his balls throbbed and the fabric over his groin began to shift as he popped a boner. Peter closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth as blood rushed into his manhood. He'd never felt an erection that good before...

Peter tossed his phone onto his bed, frantically unbuttoned his pants and let them fall away. He let out a soft gasp, seeing just how big the tent was in his underwear. The gray cotton was stretched over the distinct outline of a very large cock, but this wasn't porn, this was him! He wasn't a Spider-Boy, no, he was a man. Peter bit his bottom lip as he peeled back his underwear, revealing his thick, hot slab of meat. Even looking at it seemed to encourage it to grow further. As the flesh engorged, it grew longer, wider and tighter. The skin pulled back, the slack tightening as it tried to keep up with the growth. The thick, round, full gland was so big that it seemed to call to Peter, to sing to him.

As any young man in the situation would do, Peter brought his hand up, his fingers slowly coiling around the shaft. He inhaled sharply, feeling a faint, almost electric friction between his fingers and his dick. Peter wondered if that was the mutation that allowed him to wall crawl, but he didn't care. He began to stroke himself off, forward and back, faster, but it wasn't enough. To his surprise, and for the first time in his life, Peter was able to get a second hand onto his shaft. His hips began to thrust forward and back, adding to the workout his already spent arms were doing. Peter looked up, seeing the way his arm muscles bulged, the way his pecs were being squeezed as he jacked off. He was so hot, sexier than he'd ever been - but it wasn't enough.

Peter hadn't just worked up a hardon during his crime fighting, he was voracious. He was horny and hungry at the same time. His brow furrowing in urgent need, Peter raised one arm and squeezed. A thwip of webbing shot up to anchor in the corner of the ceiling. Peter aimed another over his closet, setting up another tether. Using his incredible upper body strength, Peter lifted himself up off the ground, raising his legs parallel to the floor, then slowly began inverting himself. Peter's mouth filled with saliva, his eyes almost watering with anticipation as his thick, long cock began to come closer and closer. It almost seemed as if his skyline antics had been preparing him for this moment.

Peter's legs came through the middle between his tethers, his arms straining despite his inhuman strength. His back stretched slowly, carefully, and his stomach tingled with what it was being asked to do. Despite the arduous effort, it still felt as if Peter was in perfect control of his body. Every hint of gangliness was gone. He was the master of his form, and he knew what he wanted. Peter's legs were now over his head and extending past his shoulders, his throbbing cock lowering down. Peter's head rose up to meet it as he hung from the ceiling. His mouth opened wide and his tongue stretched out, the pointed tip writhing with urgency.

When his back stretched that last little bit, everything else came so fast. Peter felt the huge, warm, round head of his shaft plunge between his lips, followed by two inches of his much longer shaft. At first, he was surprised at how little taste there was. It tasted like... skin, at least at first. After a moment, though, his saliva seemed to awaken the bouquet of his natural aroma. He began to taste sweat and musk and spice. It was dirty in such a delightful way. His pert lips closed around the head of his cock and he bent a little more, giving himself another inch of his own cock.

With his eyes squeezed shut, Peter began to suck himself off. His lips and cheeks worked to apply the pressure while his tongue collected his own flavor. He cleaned the edge of his cock head, he slathered against as much of the shaft as he could reach, and then he went in for the prize. Peter's tongue found his slit. He began to push and play with it, moving back and forth. With the same grace, agility and flexibility that had carried him across the city, Peter was suspended in mid air in his own room, sucking on his own manhood. His cheeks fluttered as he brought himself such pleasure, but it wasn't enough. Stretching his toes out as far as they could, extending his legs that much further, Peter felt his thick cock glide along his tongue, bumping the back of his throat.

In the most strenuous stretch he'd ever managed, Peter began to compress and extend his stomach, letting his shaft slide back and forth through his eager lips. His blood ran hot, his skin tingled and an electric thrill crackled through his muscles. Peter dared to give it all he could, bringing his groin the rest of the way down to his own face. He felt the tickle of his bush brushing the newly sprouted stubble on his chin. He felt the weight of his balls brushing his sweat dewed forehead, but most of all he felt the bulbous glans of his cock brushing the back of his throat. He was doing what anyone his age only dreamed of. His tongue whipped and curled around his member, trying to learn all the spots that brought him the most pleasure. The experience was exquisite, but Peter knew exactly what he needed. His deep, rich blue eyes opened, his gaze moving to the mirror. He looked at the reflection there of an incredibly fit, handsome, virile young man bent like a pretzel, sucking down his own massive cock.

An explosion of sensation erupted inside of Peter's mind, every synapse firing with cosmic energy in a way that made every previous orgasm seem like a winking blip obscured in the raging inferno of a newborn star. Peter's cheeks suddenly bulged as he was rewarded with an incredible volume of salty, sticky, spicy semen. There was so much that it threatened to escape either his lips or his nostrils, so instead he began to swallow. His throat bobbed as he took down gulp after gulp of his own seed, feeling it coat his throat and fill his stomach. Peter's entire body tingled, his cock buzzing with pleasure. Peter tried to take it all in, but a euphoria swept across his body until both hands suddenly released.

Peter fell to the floor of his bedroom, landing on all fours as his body uncoiled. His python of a cock slapped his thigh with the inertia before it swung back up, making an audible thwack against his stomach, sending another gush of semen that spilled across his chest and splattered on the dark dusting of stubble on his chin. Peter laid there, spread eagle, a dazed expression of ultimate pleasure radiating from his face. Peter's eyes were fluttering shut, ready to surrender to the afterglow and inevitable unconsciousness when he heard his phone chirp.

Reality came crashing down around him like a cold shower. Peter swallowed softly, still finding it hard to move. He grabbed the corner of his bedspread and pulled, then pulled two more times until his phone appeared at the corner of the bed. One quick flick of his web caught it and he pulled it to him, using his finger to unlock the screen. There were two messages waiting for him; one he'd heard the notification for and an earlier one he'd missed. His dad was going to be working a double shift at the plant due to callouts. The other was a response from Otto hanging beneath the picture of the interdimensional creature Peter had sent him; 'We need to talk.'