Felicitations Ch. 02

After Felicia had come—again—Felicity rose up over her on the bed. Felicia's moist and so recently sexual body, an image of her own from the outside looking in, was unbelievably sensual to her. She married her hand to Felicia's, all the fingers the same length, the fingerprints nestling together perfect, then moved her fingers up Felicia's wrist, up her arm, the slender muscle of her bicep—sliding to her warm breast.

"You must be from some parallel universe," Felicity figured. "We get those from time to time. 616, right?"

Felicia tried to remember if Peter had ever said that in one of his nerdy lectures. "Yeah. I think so."

"Yeah. The prude universe. We're pretty close in the multiverse or whatever. Goodness, you are all wet, aren't you?"

She grabbed a hand towel from the nightstand—oddly, they were hung on a bar in the front like it was a bathroom—and began wiping up Felicia's juices from her thighs.

Felicia smiled happily as she did. "Momma told me all sorts of things would happen if I kept playing with myself, but she never mentioned this."

"And you were using this?" Felicity held up the scepter. Felicia trembled just looking at it. "Well... guess we know how you got here."

"Not a very scientific analysis," Felicia judged. "We should do another experiment. See what happens if I masturbate without the scepter before jumping to any conclusions."

Felicity grinned. "Spider would be so pleased..."

Unconsciously, Felicia undulated her belly to Felicity's rubbing. She knew how erotic the sudden sway of her body was, all of wiggling, jiggling, dancing in place—one tantalizing, luscious bit of sexual candy.

Felicity dropped the towel. She kept rubbing.

"You don't seem very prudish," she observed. "Sure you're from 616?"

"Back home, I'm a slut."

"Here, you're an amateur."

"Maybe I should stick around for a while. Take in the sights..."

"You can take in plenty," Felicity offered, boldly feeling inside of her double. It was like masturbating, only not—feeling the way her own pussy clenched and trembled, only from the inside, numb to the sensations she was causing, but able to see their effect. It was delicious, feeling her own body heat, her own slickness, but doubled. Mirrored. She found Felicia's clit, as hard as hers was. "I have a proposition for you."

"I think I'm taking your proposition right now—"

Felicity laughed, feeling wonderfully excessive, decadent. The luxurious feel of a really good masturbation. She brought out her fingers and delicately sniffed Felicia's juices—hers, only a little more exotic. Her body on fire, she crawled forward, laying squarely on top of Felicia's nudity, wanting to either quench the flames or burn together.

"You like sex and stealing shit?" Felicity asked.

"Where do you think I got the scepter?"

"No way of knowing, considering how many people tell us to shove it up our ass."

"What did our ass ever do to them?"

It truly aroused her, Felicia's soft, warm body, still moist from her masturbation, from their fucking, if there was any difference. Felicity loved being in her own body—so healthy, so powerful, so beautiful, such a weapon. Feeling Felicia's incredible breasts press into her own was like being fully conscious of her flesh, aroused and alive like she'd just run a marathon, stolen a priceless jewel, fucked Spider-Man—only more so. She felt like she was in her body and Felicia's as well. Counting her fingers, she was.

Felicia, her face clearly showing the same engagement, took Felicity's cheeks between her hands, staring at the impromptu mirror as if gratified she was as beautiful as she'd always known. "Spider says pictures, mirrors, they don't really capture how we really look. Pictures get a static image; doesn't look right. Mirrors reverse everything. We never know how we really look... except for us."

"We're so fucking hot," Felicity said.

"So are we."

Felicia wet her lips, half closed her eyes, and smiled daringly at Felicity. Her body was still burning wet from before. Felicity wanted hers to feel exactly how Felicia's looked. She brought her lips down on Felicia's; Felicia's lips melted under hers. They tasted soft flesh, the sweet syrup of Felicia from when Felicity had eaten her out—or was it the other way around?

Felicia pulled back, looked at Felicity's beautiful lips, plump and rich with arousal, wet and inviting. She gave her more kisses, hotly trying their inviting need. Felicity's breath blasted against her mouth, sweetly excited. Suddenly, with exultation, Felicia realized what she could do.

"Mary Jane's going to be so thrilled," she muttered. "I'm finally going to go fuck myself."

There was a blush on Felicia's face that had nothing to do with embarrassment, and Felicity gently rubbed herself against Felicia, feeling the exotic symmetry of their bodies meeting—bellies, breasts, legs, arms. It all fit together, synchronized by their identical lust.

"I have a job tonight," Felicity said. "I could use an extra pair of hands."

"That the only pair you could use?" Felicia asked, rolling on top of Felicity, rising up her body to offer her huge breasts to Felicity's hungry gaze. Sweaty and reddened, they were practically glowing, the nipples turgid. Felicity's pink tongue came out to stroke the left one. Felicia gasped in pleasure.

"You know," Felicity observed, "they're big enough that you could do this yourself. But the underside..."

She lowered herself underneath Felicia's cleavage, beginning to kiss the shadowed portion below. Mind whirling, Felicia lifted one breast in her hands, ushering the nipple into her own mouth. She sucked herself while Felicity did the same. Seeing it, hearing it, Felicity began to touch herself. Masturbating, fucking, all at once. All that was missing was stealing and teasing Peter.

"Some rich guy," Felicity said between kisses, "was dating some rich bitch. Gave her a gift, some family heirloom or whatever... then she broke up with him. Now he wants us to steal it back—"

"Yes! Yes!" Felicia was riding Felicity's pelvis, grinding her wetting cunt into it. She groaned in sweetly rising desire, feeling the pressure in her breast grow so high that her other just had to match it. She pulled Felicity away from her left breast, forced her to the supple right, making her eat it. A groping hand maintained the glow in her left tit. Felicia's or Felicity's, she didn't know or care.

Felicity panted as she felt Felicia's pussy stroke closer and closer to her sex, undulating softly under her doppelganger. "He gave me the full specs on the security system in her penthouse..."

"OH GOD, YES!" Already, Felicia's breast glowed like it was radioactive. Both of them were too sensitive to touch now—she felt like she could come, just from having them mauled. She eased her nipple out of Felicity's mouth, feeling the slight sting of its hardness raking over Felicity's teeth, then the coolness of open air after the warmth of suckling mouth.

Felicia eased down Felicity's body, kissing the breasts, sucking them, playing with them as she'd always wished she could. She didn't know how Spider resisted her when this was so fucking good.

"She's going to a party tonight..." Felicity continued, moaning, bucking her hips.

"Who?"

"The rich bitch... while she's gone we break in..."

The hot, sensitive nipples of the Hardy under her drove Felicia mad with desire. She sucked and kneaded to her heart's content, more than enough room in that massive cleavage for both hands, for her mouth, kissing over the sweeping contours, tweaking the nipples, nipping, biting—the only thing that would make it any better was if someone had come on Felicity's tits first. Peter...

"Steal everything..." Felicity gasped, as if whispering sweet nothings to Felicia. "We give him the heirloom... keep everything else... oh, Felicia, you can make me come that way..."

"Can. Won't," Felicia quipped. She was hungry for Felicity; wanted to love herself. It was the ultimate in self-esteem.

She tongued her way down Felicity's silken body, dipping her tongue into the navel, dropping lower, lower, hands on Felicity's thighs—so soft, Felicia almost wanted to keep going down those luscious legs, but then she faced that cunt and knew she had to have it. Steal it.

White-haired, wet, hot—she knew, secondhand, how it tasted, but it wasn't like she could mouth it like she did her breasts. She could touch it, she could smell it, she could play with her entire body, but she just wasn't quite flexible enough to lick her own cunt. This was virgin territory... so to speak.

She sank her mouth on Felicity's womanhood.

"YESSSSSSS!" Felicity sang, her mind running a similar track. She'd brought enough women to orgasm with her tongue to know she was good—she just wanted to know how good. And, lavishly rolling her body upward in a subconscious fucking motion, gasping as Felicia's tongue sought out and destroyed all her most sensitive spots—she knew she was damned good.

Felicia flicked her tongue in and out of the sensitive entrance to Felicity's cunt, the fine rich nerves flaring. Her mouth rode Felicity's clit. She drank the flowing juices. She was enthralled, entranced. So turned on it was like she herself was being eaten out. Her own body burned, proclaiming it wasn't so, but that didn't matter for the moment. It felt better than Flash Thompson, slipping this double image the tongue. And when she used her finger—when she felt how tight she herself had to be—Felicity bucked faster, twisted, screamed. Reached down and gripped Felicia's head.

"Fuck us!" she cried. "Fuck us harder!"

Felicity rocked in exquisite pleasure on her impalement, writhed to the expert finger screwing into her clit. Until finally, Felicia had her. There was nothing left to escape the demon tongue, the torturous finger, those eyes that gazed up at Felicity with a lust she had never seen before: her own.

Felicity strained against the full, pleasured paralysis of being taken, then surrendered to it—a contest of wills that had never been so close. "Ahhhhh,soooogood, oh, good, GOOD!" she keened, her cunt squeezing lusciously on Felicia's tongue, all the tension blasting away from her in pure, magnificent joy.

Arching her back, she howled. When she was too weak to howl, she moaned. When she was too weak to moan, she sighed. When she was too weak to sigh, she fell silent, feeling as if she was suddenly in the depths of a perfect, dreamless sleep—alone save for this twin that rose to fall beside her, smile so sweetly wet, finger so warm and moist when it touched her.

"So... the job..." Felicity whimpered. "Are you in?"

"I thought I just was," Felicia laughed, sucking her finger off like a popsicle.

"Seriously. If you're some... annoying do-gooder me and I'm the evil twin... just tell me?"

"Felicity. Relax. Don't be so hard on yourself." Felicia cuddled up to her; sleeping alone had never felt so good. "To borrow one of your lines... I'm coming."

***

For both of them, cuddling was nice, but it had its limit. As soon as the torpor of orgasm had worn off, a rush of endorphins flooded in like they were filling a vacuum. Time to move on, move forward. Felicia reached for Felicity to start round 2, but Felicity was getting out of bed. Felicia watched as she went to a chair in the corner. Now that she was on the other side, she understood why people stared. Her boobs really were huge.

"Leaving so soon?" Felicia pouted.

"I've spent enough time here already. The mark isn't the party til dawn type. We should hurry."

"Mmmm. And once we've tossed her apartment, maybe we can have a little fun there? Especially if she has a Jacuzzi?"

Felicity grinned at her. "I think you're going to fit in around here just fine..."

She took a pile of some dark, folded material—clothing Felicia couldn't distinguish—and threw it on the ground, then stepped on top of it. Felicia was surprised for a moment; her clothes might get the odd protein shake spill, but she certainly didn't mistreat them if she could help it. Far too fashionable for that.

Then she saw the black silk cloister at Felicity's bare feet, nuzzling against her heels, then sliding up her calves.

"Oooh!" Felicity shivered. "Tickles—tickles everywhere..."

A word sprung into Felicia's mind as if propelled by a gun: symbiote. She watched, partly awestruck, partly horrified, partly thrilled as the symbiote—not quite blanket, not quite liquid—fell up Felicity's long legs like wet shadow, like the darkness in fabric when it took on water. From the way Felicity swayed on her heels, stretching herself to tautness and back again into basking relaxation, it felt good—as supple and inviting as the blackness looked, moistening her skin. The same way pill bottles looked like they had candy in them.

It wasmassagingher, warm lotion applying itself to her legs—over her hips—no, it saved those for later, leaving her pussy teasingly, mockingly bare as it climbed her ribs, creeping inch by inch to her ample breasts.

Felicity ran her hands over her body, heedlessly slicking them through the black ivy growing over her. When her hands came back up, they trailed brackish residue over her ivory nudity, over her tits. Felicia watched, heating, as the insubstantial blackness seemed to vibrate on her areolas, dripping back toward its fuller mass, hanging from her nipples as the greater reserve came to join them.

It shot up over the curve of her cleavage in stringing feelers, not able to swallow the huge mounds in one go, instead biting into them. Felicity moaned—not just biting her lip or whimpering now—as the symbiote pulled itself along those feelers, its weight yanking her breasts down, making them jiggle as pseudopods of the ooze touched to her teats like feeling hands, groping fingers, alien tentacles.

Felicity moaned again. She was being groped, massaged, sucked, her nipples standing out at attention, and Felicia knew exactly how sensitive they were. Felicity let out a harsh exhale as the symbiote finally surmounted her breasts, its spread—moist and warm—gently cresting the upper slopes of her cleavage. Like body paint, like latex, her breasts seemed totally naked, just coated in a thin layer of symbiote, the hard nipples obvious beneath it.

Now the symbiote moved faster—done with foreplay. It raced up Felicity's shoulder, up her neck, stopping its lunges at her throat like it was a hand throttling her. Unconsciously, Felicia raised her hands to her mouth. She almost wanted to run, but she couldn't budge. The oppressive heat between her thighs rooted her to the spot.

"Mmmmm..." Felicity said, relaxing into the... caress? Ownership? Worship? She ran a hand over her perfect face, as if savoring the warmth of her bare flesh one last time, then moved it down over her sweetly smooth breasts. "Lover..."

She cupped her breasts, the symbiote automatically adhering to her hands, letting itself be rubbed and spread and smoothed back down her body. Felicity giggled as she did it—Felicia wondered which of them was feeling that. She pushed the symbiote to her pussy and massaged deeply, not penetrating herself, but rubbing the symbiote decisively into her labia. Almost unnoticed, the symbiote was also spreading from her throat, its fingertips tingling over her jawline, gently fondling her bitten lower lip.

"Yes," Felicity moaned with the softest, the most gentle of sighs. "Yes... yes..."

She arched her back, showing off the symbiote that wasdrippingoff her, so thoroughly did it coat her. The symbiote covered her face like a blush; her moan shot up in volume, a scream. "YES!" And the symbiote plunged down her open mouth, gagging her for a moment—then taking on the familiar rhythm of thrust, of acceptance, of gulp and swallow. It was facefucking her, and Felicity violently convulsed as she gave in, then stopped, stock-still.

The symbiote that had covered her body in pitch blackness, like a photo negative of the girl fromGoldfinger, now relaxed. The tar-darkness relaxed, thinning out, lightening, showing the contours of Felicity's body, the definition of her muscles. It wound in on itself like Spider-Man's webs, tightening around Felicity with delicious pleasure—she sighed, as if lost in afterglow.

The symbiote was no longer liquid, but tightly wound ribbons that bound her body all over. In the center of her chest was the familiar spider of Peter, of Venom, but it was bare flesh uncovered by the missing coils, a cut-out in the suit, legs tracing over her body, showing the sides of her breasts and the slopes of her shoulders, going down so long as her firm thighs, showing off slices of flesh encased inside this bondage. Felicia was agape. Alive, the symbiote suit was still straining, tightening, caressing her body. It was like a living gimp suit, continuously dominating Felicity, or continuously pleasuring her—dom or sub? With a symbiote, there was no way to tell.

"Sorry," Felicity said, sounding no more sorry than Felicia would be. "Had to slip into something... comfortable."

"The symbiote—you can control it?"

Some of the alien dripped over Felicity's face, forming a mask much like Felicia's domino—only with the way it ran down her cheekbones, it reminded Felicia a bit more of getting a facial. When Peter was on the outs with Mary Jane and had a big backlog...

"We have a mutually beneficial relationship. We're friends." Felicity smiled wickedly. "Friends with benefits."

"But... how?"

"Ever caught something from a boy? Well, once he got back from Battleworld, Spider gave me the ultimate clap." Felicity looked away, lost in memory. "He ate me out so good, though... that tongue..."

The symbiote rippled over Felicity's crotch. Felicia decided they should get on with it before she was too tempted. If she wanted her dating life to be that weird, she'd start going through the X-Men.

"So, who's the mark?"

"Some pop star. Her name's Darla Deering."

***

They went in through the ventilation shaft, Felicia crawling behind Felicity. She could see that another of the missing ribbons in Felicity's symbiote suit was across either cheek of her ass, revealing a pair of slender half-moons in bare skin. Felicia reminded herself to try that out later. She'd always loved anal. It stood to reason Felicity would too. Maybe they could go ass to ass; turn Requiem For A Dream into a porno...

They slipped into the apartment, able to weld through the cover in half the time. Felicia bypassed the biometric security while Felicity spoofed the cameras, then Felicity took down every painting in the place to find the safe while Felicia bagged everything that looked expensive. The painting was behind an original Johann Georg Melchior Schmidtner. Felicity picked the lock. Felicia admired her as she did it.

"I could've danced all nightttttt," someone sang, vocals impeccable despite a slur as they barged through the front door, Felicia and Felicity spinning, Felicia hefting the loot bag as a weapon before seeing who it was. Darla Deering, pop star, the same as in Felicia's universe. The cute, slightly elfin face of a Zooey Deschanel or Lizzy Caplan, the body curvaceous as a pin-up model's, with perky, out-thrust double-D breasts that tended to make an appearance on album covers and in photo shoots.

She was a sight to see, her coat hanging off her like a cape, underneath it her dress chocolate-covered, matching her sparkling eyes. It was short and thin, little more than lingerie, with straps of fabric criss-crossing over it to marginally hide her body before continuing over her arms, covering them like opera gloves. The straps crossed between and under her breasts, holding them up in the absence of a bra—which was painfully obvious. They also cinched around her waist, stopping there so that her hem hung unencumbered to mid-thigh. It would've been a fool-proof system, only some of the straps were broken and the one belted around her had some slack, allowing her dress to slip around so that when she walked, it shot up her thighs and showed that her panties were with her bra: not on her.