Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 03

Felicia was sick of being sick. She decided whatever bullshit psychosomatic bullshit was holding her back, she was fucking it and going out. It wasn't the first time she'd lost Parker; so what? Love 'em and leave 'em. Why should it be so different just because this was a long-term thing? If it were a guy and she'd intended to keep them strapped on for a week or two, would she be so broken up if she only got one date with him and then poof? No! She'd keep the home fires burning with MJ, but other than that, she'd continue being awesome, and when Peter got back, maybe she'd take him up again. Depended on how upkeep was looking on that tight little ass of his.

She stripped and put on her costume, surprised at how much her breasts ached as she transferred them from her bra to the build-in support of her catsuit. They seemed larger, more sensitive, the nipples darker and the blue veins that ran through them painted a deeper shade. Maybe in the absence of Peter's 'massages', they were putting on a protest. Or maybe Mary Jane's steady attention had made them grow. If Felicia had known as a girl that some lesbian foreplay would make her breasts bigger—well, she'd have done exactly the same thing she had done. It certainly seemed to have worked the first time around.

Still, zipping her suit up over them would be torture. Instead, she left her catsuit unzipped to the navel, further than even she liked to go and especially inappropriate when she was, for all intents and purposes, a married woman. But it relieved the pressure on her girls, and she did like the overall look it gave her in the mirror. She looked like some pornographic version of herself, and she was already pretty softcore, but it wasn't like it was her fault her boobs were fermenting revolution.

She stepped out into the night air, the darkness embracing her, reducing everything but her fur trim and hair to a shadow, leaving that a moonish glow. She fired out her cat-claw and took a swing and was assaulted by dizzying vertigo, turning her landing into a gawkish, stumbling, undignified affair. She regained her footing, but winded, exhausted, her body drained of energy and oxygen.

A sudden nervous wreck—what was wrong with her?—Felicia sunk to her knees and huddled behind a pyramid skylight, trying to regain her breath. Even the air was odd, foreign—she could smell the garbage wafting up from the latest strike, a big pile of black bags mountained up on the curb. Ten stories down. How the fuck were the people inside the building able to stand it?

"Sister? Sister?"

Felicia groaned inwardly. Ana alighted nearby, looking shockingly well-composed in comparison to how queasy Felicia felt. The woman had improved her costume, making it tighter and skimpier and sexier, as if she could tempt Peter into coming back just to see her in it.

"I thought you were sleeping under a bridge in Central Park," she moaned, laying down flat on the rooftop. Very comfortable. Much less spinning.

"No. In zoo."

"That figures."

"What are you doing out here, like this, in your condition?"

Felicia snorted. Condition. "I always look this good. I know, it's shocking I would risk a face like mine, but that's just how much I care."

Ana looked resolutely confused. Felicia was getting fed up with her 'what is this thing you call—love' act. "Not your face. Your womb. Peter's seed has taken root inside you."

Felicia jerked her shoulders off the roof, unexpectedly raking her nipples over the interior of her suit. It stung like hell, Christ, they were oversensitive. "What? Shut up. It has not!"

"You are aglow."

"I am not! This is how I always look! I'm a very healthy person! I drink smoothies!"

"Does Mary Jane Watson know?"

"Do not tell her anything!" Felicia's vehemence was undercut by a yawn.

Ana smiled guilelessly. "I think you will have a very strong child. A boy-child."

"Great. Peter could use less women in his life," Felicia said, staring pointedly at Ana.

Then she held her head as another wave of dizziness hit her. It was like, confronted by the reality of her condition, it was violently asserting itself on her, leaving no doubt as to its authenticity. Typical Hardy, Felicia mused. She would still get a pee-test and a doctor and then another doctor, because she'd gotten around and she damn sure wanted to know if this was a baby and not a Skrull infiltrating her uterus or something, but after that... after she knew...

Ana sat down beside her, supporting Felicia's head as she ushered her down to a comfortable, stable position on her shoulder. It was nice. Felicia thought Ana would be great at holding the baby too, if part of baby-proofing the apartment didn't turn out to be getting rid of the semi-psychotic paying rent...

Shit, did this all mean that they were going to have to move to the suburbs?

"I can't believe Peter got me pregnant!" Felicia moaned. "Do you know how often he's finished inside Mary Jane?" Ana shook her head. "A lot! Me, he treated like a paint-by-numbers picture! One where all the colors were white! Goddamn, he'd better have learned to be more careful where he shoots that webbing!"

***

Anya's backpack hit the ground as she stared anxiously at Peter's cock. What if he lost his hard-on? she worried. She couldn't bear that, not today, not after she'd just sat back and watched as he'd fucked Beetle to the finish. Her pussy was throbbing hard beneath her panties, desperate for cock, any cock, she wouldn't settle for Beetle tongue-fucking her or Spider fingering her, she needed cock, just needed it, as soon as she could get it!

"Ay papi, look at my body," she whispered passionately, curling her tongue excessively around the Spanish dirty talk. "Stay horny for me, papi, stay nice and hard while you watch me take off my clothes. It's all yours, papi, you just have to keep that cock up and you can have my tits—"

She was peeling her T-shirt over her head. She wore no bra, nor did she need one. Her body was lanky and lithe, with that slender sleekness continuing in her small, perky breasts. Despite that, her girlish figure turned Peter on, coming on the heels of her rampantly demonstrated obscenity. She struck him almost like a toy, a sexy little sorority girl toy, with her frizzy copper-red hair and big fluttery eyes that seemed almost as large as the goggles now adorning her forehead.

"Do you want to suck my tits, papi?" Anya cupped one bronzed globe, fanning her fingers across a fat nipple, its pinkness surprisingly cute, almost cartoonish. "Look how big the nipple is. I bet you've never sucked a nip this big. All of your lips will fit around it and you'll suck it with all you got and I'll just love it!"

She gave a little bounce—very excited, very girlish—and Peter let out a small groan at the result. Anya could see fresh blood coursing into his cock as he ogled her cherry-capped tits, still rocking from her burst of enthusiasm. But he was holding back, thinking, and Janice was just as impatient with that as Anya was.

"Suck it, you idiot!" she demanded, working her hips as far as the webbing would let them go, the resistance making her remaining clothes grate against her skin, making her shiver with sensation.

Peter stepped forward, cupping Anya's body beneath the breast—his hand, not large, still encompassed the side of her slender torso and held up her breast between thumb and forefinger. He dropped his mouth to the big nipple, sucking hard, and Anya felt the pleasure of it shooting straight down to her throbbing cunt.

"Ay papi! Damelo duro!" she gasped. Her thin, tight pants felt thinner and tighter than ever as she humped their crotch against Peter. "Take off my clothes! Strip me bare! Throw me down and fuck me, fuck me!"

Peter did her one better, throwing her next to Janice on the wall—Anya's reflexes automatically had her splaying her hands and feet backwards to catch herself on the vertical surface and hang on. Then Peter was on top of her, kissing her in one big sloppy tonguing from her breasts to the taper of her wasp waist, ripping her pants down her legs, while his mouth ran over the sun-kissed tan that covered the adorable boop of her hips, the thin but powerful thighs, the well-formed calves, the ankles, every inch of her lovely body...

He hadn't taken her boots off and was unable to pull her pants off them, so he just left them around her ankles as he tore her panties clean off. She was naked, but erotically not naked, gauntlets and hairband and tangled clothes making it still evident that she had stripped down for sex, such was her desperation to be fulfilled.

Janice moaned, seeing Anya's exposed, swathed body, and Anya smiled at her as she opened her legs. "Yeah papi, fuck me just like her, treat me like you treated her, use me like a whore, fuck me, fuck me, put your prick in deep—"

Peter was barely listening, stripping off his shirt, his pants, all but his mask. It left him in much the same state as Anya—his boots and gloves and half-worn mask showing that this was not lovemaking, no midnight rendevouz, but a quickie, a fuck, a public and unanticipated answering of sudden desires.

His body was lean and muscular—Anya didn't compare him to her Peter, but give or take some tattoos, Anya thought him much as attractive, though she was almost too busy to notice—staring so intently at his jutting cock. It might've just been her lust talking, but that seemed bigger. The one way to know for sure, of course, was to measure it against the sample she'd had before and would again.

"Unngghhhh!" Anya grimaced, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she felt Peter's hard body press against hers, his big cock push into her. He spread her wide. She almost enjoyed the sensation of feeling herself open more than she did the sudden, strikingly intense sensation of having him inside her. "Con cuidado, Papi! Eres enorme!"

And, impatient for more, she started humping her sly hips against him, her perky breasts dancing and shaking as she pistoned herself eagerly against him and his penetration of her. Janice licked her lips, watching the way Anya's tits flopped around as a more endowed woman's larger, heftier breasts never could.

Peter pumped into her slowly, subconsciously thinking her youth and slightness made her fragile, though intellectually he knew she was tougher and more durable than either Felicia or Mary Jane. Despite himself, his hips picked up speed. They couldn't resist the feel of her pussy working on him, sucking and clasping uncontrollably down the vulnerable length of his prick. Peter hissed as he fucked his rod all the way into her hole, grinding the base of his groin between her spread labia lips.

"As lo que quieras! Nadie me lo das como tu!"

Anya twisted her nimble ass, wanting his cock touching every inch of her cunt, fucking herself onto him so she got it. She dug her fingers into the walls, hearing it slightly crumble, and slammed herself into his thrusts as fast as she could. She couldn't believe how horny she was, how starved she felt for the powerful thrusts of his cock. Even between strokes, she felt desperately needy for more of his cock. Her pussy throbbed like a feasting animal, milking and sucking at his manhood.

Maybe it was the knowledge that this was his first time benefiting from the pleasures of her world and she was the one initiating. Perhaps it was his knowledge of how wantonly she had permitted him to use her, and now he was almost punishing her with his cock for so easily spreading her legs to him—feeling free to fuck her so hard because she was so correspondingly open to it, in a way that even Felicia and Mary Jane hadn't been. They loved him. The fact that Anya was a stranger, and yet agreeing to, insisting on such taboo acts made Peter feel practically unhinged.

"Voy a venir! Voy a venir!" Her clit was tingling, chafed into raw ecstasy by the seemingly never-ending thrusts of his cock. "I'm coming, papi! Oh fuck, oh shit, coming all over your cock!"

Peter fucked her harder, clinging to the wall himself and lifting himself over her to change the angle he was using to plunge himself into her gripping pussy. With his toehold keeping him in place, he settled his hands on her breasts, slamming her back against the wall and grinding his hands roughly over the contours of her cleavage. Those fat nipples ached on his palms as he kept spearing into her, reaming out her pussy deeper and harder with every thrust.

"Dame esa leche! Ven conmigo!" Anya gasped. "Unh, harder, fuck me harder! Oh fuck, oh yes, oh papi... ohhhhhhhh!"

The long-awaited spasms exploded through her womanhood, seeming to obliterate all feeing, consume in blazing bliss any tissue—but through it all, she still felt the ravished walls of her channel clamp down on Peter's cock. He kept fucking her, almost harder now that she couldn't join in, now that all she could do was whimper and let him fuck as fast as he wanted into her orgasming cunt.

"You're making me come again, papi! Oh, Jesus!" She fought for breath, but nonetheless whipped her body into his all over again, overwhelmed by the strength of her first orgasm but even more hungry for another. "I love your cock, Spider, make me love it even more! Fuck me, fuck meeee! Dame esa leche!"

Peter almost slowed down, but for her pumping her thighs on him, driving him to slam himself into her so hard now that the wall shook out dust. "Was that... you saying you wanted me to come inside you?"

"Yes! Leche! Milk! Give me your milk!"

"Sorry—been a while since Spanish class... are you on birth control?"

"Por supuesto!"

"What?"

"She said yes!" Janice cried.

"Did you? Because I could always—"

Wrapping her legs around Peter, Anya spun them around, jamming him against the wall while she clung to it with her hands and drove herself against him, Peter now being the one slapped against the cement as he took her thrusts.

"You could always! Shut up! And! Dame! Esa! Leche!"

It was an action Anya had no trouble demonstrating, as she thrust her hand down into her curling pubic hairs, found her aching clit, and attacked the swollen bud with her fingers. Almost immediately, she was shuddering, sucked into another violent climax.

"I'm coming again! Fuck, fuck, ahhh, Jesus, coming! Finger my asshole more! Put more fingers in my ass!"

"I'm not fingering your ass!"

"Shit, are there any languages you do speak? Just—keep it in my ass and hold it still—"

"No, Anya, I'm not—"

And, having lubed Anya up successfully, Venom drove her cock into the woman's ass.

***

Earth-69

There was something to be aware of about Earth-69. Yes. It was a far more sexual, more permissive, and more open society than most Earths. However, by and large, it was still recognizably Earth.

The X-Men still protected a world that hated and feared them.

The Avengers were still Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

Arana—whatever her kinks and whoever her partners—was still a hero who could competently save, rescue, and apprehend the various persons she met in costume.

And Beetle... although more than willing to allow herself to be penetrated for the sheer fun of it... was still a criminal who would do whatever it took to avoid arrest and enrich her bank account.

She had been contracted to steal a particular item from STAR Labs (an institution you may recognize from other parallel worlds; yet another difference between Earth-69 and Peter Parker's home). She had been well-briefed on its contents, how to transport it, and what to do if it were compromised.

The Venom Symbiote, after its removal from Earth-69's Peter, its bonding with Eddie Brock, and his subsequent capture, had been frozen and sent to STAR Labs for study. Transporting it was accomplished with a mobile refrigeration unit to keep it docile. When, outnumbered, Janice Lincoln had realized she would be captured, she had shut off the refrigeration and allowed the container to fall, knowing it would at least crack upon impact. She had been right. And while she had distracted Peter, the symbiote had thawed.

Perhaps if Arana had found it in time, she could've patched the crack, reactivated or repaired the refrigeration, and kept the symbiote in captivity. However, she'd been as intoxicated by Peter losing his Earth-69 cherry as he had been. And, while she watched, the symbiote moved into place.

It had become wary since its negative experience with this world's Parker. It would no longer attempt to bond solely with the strongest host. Instead, it weighted its options.

Arana was powerful, but too much like Spider-Man, too moral and strong-willed for their interests to align.

Peter, too, was powerful, and more neurotic about sex than the Spider-Man the symbiote had known, but it was unsure about his foreign taste.

Janice—though powerless and strong-willed—was as amoral as they came. She knew what the symbiote was capable of and was receptive to it. Willing to peel her eyes off the very distracted Peter and Anya, she spotted the symbiote.

Looked at it, running her tongue around the oval of lips sensuously glossy from licking the cum off them, beguiling it with a little arching of her neat brows. She tossed her hair back from her lovely face, her eyes flicking down her own body expectantly.

That decided it—the symbiote had no wish to overcome a reluctant host. While Peter and Anya continued their coupling, the symbiote began its own...

Being bonded with was indescribable. Janice flexed her toes, separating them and digging them into the ground as the symbiote approached—a puddle swimming across the rooftop. It reached her feet and Janice gasped; a coolness gripping her heels and the arches of her feet like she was stepping into a swimming pool. It rose up her calves, warm now—as it settled, as the temperature shifted between them, it felt like her pussy was burning hot enough to heat the symbiote up. She closed her thighs together tightly, sending a ripple of tingling hunger through her cunt.

In no time at all, the liquid was up to the insides of her warm thighs. It paused there, coiling, tightening—her legs were drawn desperately close together, like it was mocking her by squeezing her pussy that way, keeping her from stimulating herself, or blocking its own access to her sex and then entering it anyway. The symbiote's touch, its pressure, traced up between her legs, a trembling tendril of it poking beneath her underwear, through the mesh of her pubic hair.

Finding her lush cunt easily, finding all of it, a wide swath of the liquid heat covering it, pushing a slim tendril up into her, barely parting the slick muscles. Janice squirmed against the symbiote like it was an invisible lover, letting out a small groan as she spread her thighs wider against the symbiote's binding. She tried to keep from voicing anything louder. It seemed like any moment Spider-Man and Arana would notice the darkness covering her legs and groin like the tightest, thinnest leather.

Her hips pushed out slightly, toward where a man would be if one were making love to her. The little tentacle that had teased her now eased away, the symbiote not willing to be rushed. It almost seemed to be mastering her, dominating her, Janice realized with a rush of excitement. It inched inside her again, thicker this time, warmer, moving slowly into her warm receptiveness.

She caught her breath. Held it. Exhaled. Felt the kiss of its presence on her belly—it was moving up her body still, over her mound and stomach muscle. Lava spurted from Janice into the creature, the presence. She'd come shockingly quickly, overcome by this growing sensation. The tentacle Inside prodded deeper between her thighs, licking for more. Janice could smell the perfume of her own arousal; it shook her.