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- - -
It was two weeks for Peter to get a decent handle on things. Not perfect by any stretch, nowhere close to mastery, but after two weeks of rough waters his affliction was now tolerable.
Half of it was learning how to dress. Paradoxically, loose pants were in while loose underwear were out. Boxer-briefs were the way to go. Held everything together, all snug and in place. Sweatpants were just in case things grew out of control. Though it ever got to the point of ten ramrod inches - he'd measured - tearing a hole through his sweats, Peter probably deserved the humiliation. As for the matter of his new and inexplicable musculature, the solution was oversized shirts, loose flannel, hoodies and such. Typical teen attire. Nobody would question it.
Girls were still firmly on his radar. But that was the curse of any teenage boy. His was just cranked into overdrive. Simply catching a whiff of sweet perfume or some new floral shampoo was enough to get his pulse racing. Peter was getting turned on by things he never even noticed before.
The way some girls stretched their arms up above their head, the little sounds they made from that. The way some girls fiddled with their pencils, tapping the eraser against their lips, chewing on the tip whenever they were thinking. Gwen did that during tests sometimes. Mostly in French, when she actually had to think about the answers. Hearing girls whispering, that got him too. The soft sounds of gossip and giggling, the little expressions they did with their hands, tapping painted nails on the surface of their desks. Liz especially had a certain look in her eye, a spark of glee that shined whenever she was chatting with Gwen about something, rumors and drama and whatever teenage girls chatted about.
Right now, Peter was appreciating a more subtle sort of beauty. A girl who happened to have a locker close to his, a few doors down. She was a brunette, dark-haired and pale. Not the same sort of head-turning beauty as Gwen or Liz or Sally, but there was a definite appeal in her slender frame. Her hair was long, down to the small of her back. She wore snug jeans, dark boots, a black sweater. Not goth, just reserved. Like she was trying to blend into the background. Pretty, though. Her features were delicate, soft. All but her eyes. Those were icy blue. Clear and cunning. But also somber. Lonely.
What was her name- Jessica. Jessica something. She had a couple of classes with Peter. Math. History. But those had already come and gone for the day.
Jessica Something closed her locker and turned the other way, going down the hall. Nice hips for slender. Cute butt, too. Peter felt an urge to follow her… only to immediately get an unwanted buzz at the back of his head.
Not danger. Just an annoyance.
Peter ducked under Flash Thompson's arm. No doubt the jock had wanted to give him a noogie. Or something equally dumb. One of his buddies, Kong, was with him. Taller even than Flash and almost twice as wide, the bald bruiser could only be described as rotund - body and face.
Kong hooted, eyes and mouth wide open - like he couldn't believe Flash failed to get his hands on Puny Parker.
"Damn." Flash grinned, recovering. He stepped up to Peter, chest puffed out. No buzz. No danger. Peter remained tense, just in case. "Where'd these moves come from, Parker?"
Peter shrugged.
"Maybe you're just getting slow. You and Kong look like you could lose a few pounds." He tapped Flash's gut with the back of his hand. A bold gesture, he knew. Even got Flash to raise a brow. "I could hear you both coming a mile away."
Kong lumbered close on Peter's open flank, looking down with narrowed eyes.
"Are you saying I'm fat?"
"No. But only because I heard you ate the last guy who said you were."
Kong blinked. Flash cackled. The blond slapped his buddy's chest - Peter swore he could see the jiggle even through Kong's jacket - then slung his arm over Peter's shoulder. No buzz, no danger. The passing period was still on with streams of students flowing both ways. No place to make a scene. For now, Peter reluctantly would play along.
"Now that you've grown some balls, you ever think about joining the team?" Flash asked casually.
"The football team?" The words felt alien in Peter's mouth. Even stranger than when he bullshitted to Ben and May about it.
"No, the cheerleading team. Genius."
Peter had to wonder then if Flash hadn't also somehow mutated because his offer didn't sound like a total joke. It only turned even more baffling as Flash kept on.
"I'm thinking third string. Fourth string, easy. If not, the team could always use a live practice dummy."
"Yeah, we broke a lot of our stuff this season. New equipment won't be coming in until after summer break." Kong backed Flash up.
Peter still wasn't completely sure if their conversation was even happening. Maybe the spider bite induced occasional hallucinations? He looked from Flash to Kong, searching for signs of bullshit. Zilch.
"Don't you two graduate in June? You won't even be on the team next season."
Flash gave a dismissive wave.
"Once a Mustang, always a Mustang. Besides, graduation doesn't mean us seniors can't set an underclassman on the right path. If you're even half as fast as I think you are, you could actually be somebody next semester."
"Just don't let Brad Davis put you in the nurse's office on the first day of practice." Kong warned. "Heard his parents split up. Got a lot of pent up anger."
Peter wanted to laugh. Thought better of it though.
"The grievous bodily harm and head trauma all sounds really tempting…"
"Think about the pussy, then." Flash said in a lowered voice.
Peter said nothing at first. Then he nodded.
"Alright."
Flash planted his hand on Peter's shoulder and gave a firm shake.
"I'm serious, Parker. A lot of chicks are into nerds and geeks these days."
"Like Star Wars." Kong pointed out. "Girls think young Darth Vader is hot now. Before he had the mask and suit and all that."
"And the ladies always love an athlete, man." Flash slapped Peter on the chest. "You'd basically be double-dipping."
The thought of getting swarmed by babes was definitely appealing. Peter just wasn't sure if he wanted to spend so much time around guys like Flash Thompson and Kong McFarlane to get it. Even then, what would be the point? Sure, he could probably dominate sports now, but where was the challenge? He had super powers. High school sports were small time. A guy with brains and brawn could do so much more.
"As much as I'd love to give you guys an excuse to wail on me-"
"Never needed an excuse for that."
"I'm just not the sporty type. Sorry."
Moving too quickly for Flash to react, Peter slipped out of the older teen's hold. Before Flash and Kong could even turn around, Peter was already down the hall.
"So that's it, huh?" Flash called out after him. "Puny Parker's too good for football?"
"Too busy!" Peter called back.
He heard Flash scoff but there was nothing more than that. No danger-buzz prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Two weeks ago, Peter might have been afraid of getting a kick in his ass or a shove sending him tumbling into the lockers. No more of that now. Not since the spider bite.
If this was what confidence felt like then it was no wonder so many guys tried to at least put up a front. The real thing was unlike anything else Peter had ever felt. Like he was invincible. Nobody in the whole school - maybe the whole city - could lay a hand on him.
Midtown High felt like a whole new world now. Chock-full of whole new possibilities.
Speaking of possibilities…
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught long blonde hair, smooth and silky. Black blouse, snug. Cream skirt, ending just above her knees.
Gwen. Looking his way. Had she been watching?
It didn't matter. His body decided the course before his brain did. A sharp turn then a beeline. He had to force himself to slow down.
In that short time, Peter drank her in. The way her hair bounced a little as she walked. The way she held her books up to her chest - he loved how he could make out the flattening of her breasts even through the blouse, how they'd deform from the pressure. Peter had never wanted so badly to trade places with a textbook before.
As Peter drew close, Gwen's porcelain face lit up with a smile. Pink lip gloss, faint eye shadow around blue pearl eyes. Made his cock stir. Sweatpants were the right call.
Gwen leaned back against the lockers, clutching her books with both arms. She bit her lip, eyes flashing down the hall. Where Flash and Kong had been.
"Flash still giving you trouble?" She asked, sounding more amused than concerned.
"That?" Peter made a face. "It was nothing. Friendly chat."
Gwen did not look convinced. But God did she look pretty.
"Uh huh. At least he's not shoving you around anymore."
"He'd need to get a hand on me first."
The surge of machismo was sudden and unexpected. On a basic level, Peter knew why it reared its head. Caveman brain wanted to impress the pretty girl. Thus came the verbal chest-pounding: Me am man. Me am strong. Me biggest club around! The intellectual side of him - the side that thought he knew better - was embarrassed those words even came from his mouth.
The way Gwen was looking at him now wasn't making anything better. She was squinting, like she was reading him. Her lips were pursed in thought. Not quite a smile, not quite a frown. Nice to look at in any case.
She clicked her tongue, her face lighting up again.
"You have gotten taller." She said with a smirk.
He'd take it… even if it didn't make much sense.
"Huh?"
This time it was the blonde's turn to look flustered. But of course Gwen only looked even more beautiful with a faint blush across her cheeks.
"Sorry. I just noticed a while back that you might have gotten taller. And you have." She did a little gesture with her hand. It was cute.
On Peter's end, he tackled an oddity: his chest swelling with pride while his tongue tangled into a knot.
"Really?" He finally managed to ask. Silently, Peter thanked God his voice didn't crack.
"Yep." Gwen put her hand to her head like a salute. Measuring her height to Peter's. "You used to be shorter than me."
"Maybe I was slouching." Peter suggested, trying to stifle his grin.
Gwen snorted. It turned into a giggle. Rich, genuine. Sweet to the ears. Peter wanted to hear that all the time.
"Good thing you stopped then. Bad for your back."
"Definitely."
It wasn't flirting. It was at the edge of flirting. It didn't really count. So why was his heart thumping so hard? Why did Gwen have that look in her eyes? That glimmer?
Peter forced himself to check the clock hanging above the lockers. Passing period was almost up. And hidden in his sweats was a major hard-on. His third of the day.
It wasn't smart to torture himself like this. Not when he still had English with Gwen at the end of the day. And Science with Liz and Sally.
Peter cleared his throat, taking every ounce of effort to back away. Shuffled more like, with his solid pipe of a cock batting between his thighs. He prayed Gwen didn't notice his awkward stance.
"See you in English?" He coughed.
The blue pearls of her eyes were shining. Her smile was even brighter.
"See you in English." Promised Gwen Stacy.
- - -
English wound up being torture. Even worse than French. At least French was mostly quiet - partner practice sessions not withstanding. Just like Lit, English was Gwen's domain. And she liked to show off.
A forty minute class and a damn good chunk was spent listening to Gwen Stacy's gentle, buttery smooth voice. An ordeal for most young men. Hell for Peter Parker.
Loose sweatpants may have kept his hard-on out of sight, but he could still feel it. Every throbbing inch, all through class. All through the rest of the day, too.
Now it was long into the PM. Homework was mostly done - English and French weren't exactly priority uno (or dos). Peter had other obligations. Like the demands of his body.
Sitting naked in his chair, his hand was a blur over his manhood. Urgent strokes stirring up the bliss rooted deep in his gut. The first spill had been beyond satisfying - after two weeks of this routine, he knew to keep a towel ready. Still, Peter craved more. It took more than just one release to cool him off.
Other guys might have found that kind of stamina a blessing - hell, Peter still did. But damn if it didn't take up his time.
Thankfully, a phantom Gwen was there to help him along. Other ghostly guests, too. Projections of his young male mind, nubile and nude and all too happy to display themselves for his pleasure.
Gwen was perched on his bed, sitting on her knees, cooing in delight as she watched him pump his hand over the length of his cock. Sally Avril and Liz Allan took shape just behind her, their fit naked bodies shimmering into being. They pressed into Gwen's back, hands sliding over her bare shoulders. Sliding down to her breasts. Peter had never seen any of them naked, so the concoctions of his horny caveman brain would have to suffice. Details like the exact shape of their tits, their nipples - puffies or pokies, big around or tiny points - he just had to make it up.
None of them were lesbians, either - as far as Peter knew, at least. It was possible one or two might have been bi or bi-curious. He never thought to ask. They were teen girls. Maybe at one point they experimented a little. That thought got Peter's blood pumping, enough to get his cock twitching in his hand. He let out a huff, stroking faster, harder. Pleasure and heat surged through his loins. His balls clenched and ached.
The girl-girl fantasies poured into his phantom ladies. Sally sent him a devious little smirk before putting those bee-stung lips to Gwen's throat. Liz was bolder, taking Gwen by the chin and crashing her lips upon her friend's. God, the way Gwen squeaked as Liz's tongue dipped into her mouth…
The killshot came from the back. Spectral hands ghosting over his shoulders, fingers sliding over his naked chest. Peter grunted, imagining lips pressing into his cheek. A familiar face came into view, black hair framing a delicate face. The lonely eyes were gone, replaced with a playfulness that fed into the aching between his legs.
Jessica. Jessica Something. A welcome guest to this nightly gathering.
Peter grinned, never stopping his strokes. Jessica smiled back. She eyed his cock, all hungry-like. Then she met his eyes again and pushed in.
What would it feel like to kiss her? To kiss Gwen? Any of them?
The pace of his strokes had turned furious. His cock was swollen to the point of exquisite pain. Ready to burst. Peter kept going, hissing through clenched teeth. Through the haze, he could hear their voices. Whispers. Giggling. Sweetness.
As ecstasy crashed through his body yet again, Peter felt it just a bit lacking. The gap was becoming more and more clear as the nights went on.
His body surged with energy, muscles tight and firm, lusts wild and unquenched. Silky hair. Glossy lips. Full thighs and rounded hips. Breasts, warm and soft. Backsides, firm and toned and slappable. Girls, girls, girls, taking up more and more and more of his mind. How long before he wouldn't be able to think?
How long until fantasies wouldn't cut it anymore?
Peter sighed as the last rope of cum spilled onto the rolled-out towel. He felt Jessica's lips on his cheek again. He cracked his eyes open and saw Gwen kneeling between his legs, resting her chin on his thigh. Blue eyes twinkling, big and round and sweet, even with the shaft of his fat cock inches from her pretty mouth. He wanted so badly to feel those lips touching him for real. His heart burned for it. His whole fucking body was screaming for it.
Fuck me, I need a girlfriend…