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The Gwen Stacy Syndrome	By : Ksennin Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman Views: 39313 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, nor the characters in the franchise. I make no money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Ana liked being engaged to Peter and Felicia and Mary Jane, off shooting her movie in England, but many parts of it were new and confusing to her. They all lived together, that made sense. Even Mary Jane had a room set aside for when she came back. But that was the thing—although the rooms and beds were all big enough for all of them, there were many times when Peter and Felicia slept apart.
Or, sometimes, Peter couldn’t sleep and would go out to be Spider-Man, or Felicia would not sleep and go out to steal something (which she would then put back). Sometimes they went to bed in their own rooms, but then one would get up in the middle of the night and go to the other’s bed, sometimes for sex, sometimes just to sleep under the same sheets. Many times one didn’t even wake the other up.
It was all very confusing to Ana. She knew how her parents had lived together. Every night, Sasha had slept with Sergei, sating his male needs as was proper. She did not understand how Peter and Felicia could be together, but need this space between them, but also sometimes not need it. She though it must be a ritual to account for the Spider’s strength.
She knew she made them uncomfortable sometimes, the way she was in love with them before they were in love with her. It would be unwise to try to sleep with them now. Like approaching a deer while it might still spook. She slept outside their rooms, waking before they did, leaving before they realized she was at their door, hearing them sleep, hearing them fornicate. One night, she went to Felicia’s room. She heard the steady, slightly pitched rate of breath inside and knew Felicia was awake, sedately reading a book. She knocked at the door.
“Come in, Ana.”
Ana poked her head in. “You knew was me?”
“Peter wouldn’t knock.” Felicia set her book aside. “What’s up?”
“I want to sleep in your bed. I’m not used to sleeping alone. Mother used to share my bed…”
“Parental trauma. Knew we had something in common besides great boobs.” Felicia drew the sheets aside, patted the mattress. Ana undressed, down to the underwear she thought was appropriate for this stage in their relationship, and joined Felicia in her bed.
“It will be… like sleepover, yes?”
“Yeah. Wanna watch some TV?” Felicia reached for the remote on the nightstand, showing off her taped ribs. She and Peter had fought a malfunctioning Sentinel that day. Ana had been forbidden to help. Too dangerous. Alone in the apartment, she had gone into the shower and screamed.
“No,” Ana said. “Too… loud. Busy, you understand?”
“Even PBS?”
Ana shrugged.
“I’m too wiped out to do anything but lay here, and too wired to sleep,” Felicia explained. “Sucks.”
Ana nodded. She knew the feeling. Like the first night on a hunt that might last weeks. You wanted to work through the night, end it fast, not rely on patience.
“Hey, raised-by-wolves-girl. You know how to cuddle, right?”
Ana nodded.
“Show me.”
Ana put herself against Felicia, letting the other woman embrace her, hold her tightly. The ‘littler spoon,’ she had heard it called. It befitted Peter’s senior bride to be the ‘bigger spoon’.
Felicia massaged her gently. Ana felt her body start to relax. Her mind start to loosen, feeling Felicia’s acceptance being rubbed into her body. “So, Ana, you ever hunt lions, tigers, panthers, cats?”
“You think I hunt people if not hunt everything else?”
Felicia hummed; ‘fair enough’. “So you’ve killed them?”
“Yes, but—not endangered. Not honorable hunt.”
“And when you kill them, you do it quick, right? Like nature intends. You don’t let them suffer or anything?”
“No.” Ana shook her head. “No honor in… bad kill. Clean. Honorable. Knife. Arrow. Only steel, no poison. Bare hands, sometimes. You must respect the animal with your fight.”
“That’s okay, I guess.” Felicia tightened her embrace of Ana. “I ask because, if you ever hurt Peter, betray him in any way, do anything to harm him or MJ or that sweet old lady that raised him to be the man I love—that’s not how I’m going to kill you. I’m going to break every bone in your body, then I’m going to sell you to some very bad people I know, and they’re going to run experiments on you that insects are too good for. So let’s not go that way, ‘kay?”
Ana smiled. “You defend him with honor. I’ll enjoy learning from you to be in good standing among his harem.”
Felicia shuffled to get comfortable. “Stop calling it a harem, too. Or at least start calling it my harem. My apartment, my harem…”
***
Peter was defensive of all his broodmares, but most especially of Mary Jane. Ana understood. She could not defend herself. She must make up for it by being able to bear strong children while Felicia kept up the hunt. So Peter was at first reluctant to allow Ana to speak to her sister in harem, but Felicia took her side after making her threat clear. And so Ana was allowed to Skype with Mary Jane.
She stared. Ana had studied her prey, back before she’d realized Peter was her soulmate, her one true master. Although others had attempted to capture his heart, Mary Jane had been the first to truly succeed. Peter had taken her to his marriage bed. Felicia may have been his first, but Mary Jane had very nearly tamed him. It was easy to see why. She was beautiful. The majesty of an animal even Ana would not hunt. Some creatures were so awe-inspiring, they had to be allowed to run free.
After about sixty seconds, Mary Jane got the idea that Ana wasn’t going to stop staring. “So… guess that ‘group marriage’ slippery slope got slippery pretty fast, huh?”
Ana closed her eyes. Mary Jane’s voice… a song! “Peter, of course, loves you very much.”
“Yes. He does.”
“This is a natural reaction. I look forward to learning from you. When you are too old to bear children, my fertile loins will provide you with many heirs to the Spider. I weep, thinking of them growing up alongside your beauty.”
“…kay.”
“Am I being inappropriate? Peter warned me about this…”
“I’d just stay away from the subject of reproduction all together.”
“Yes! Of course!” Ana nodded, eager to please. “I look forward to when you return, and we can service Peter together, sexually, for pleasure and not reproduction.”
***
Peter was off with the Avengers. Felicia watched TV, flicking between channels. There were news stories about the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, but no updates on the Avengers. She slammed her thumb down on the remote, shrinking the sixty-inch image to a white dot that then wiped itself out of existence. Threw the remote to the other end of the couch. Ana didn’t know which she was more upset about: worrying about Peter or being worried about Peter.
Felicia lifted up one of the couch cushions, unzipped it, reached inside, and came up with a bland prescription bottle. “You need help sleeping?” she asked Ana, noticing the huntress watching.
Ana nodded.
Felicia took out two lime-green pills, threw one to Ana. She clenched the other in her teeth as she sealed up the bottle, pushed it back inside the cushion, and restored the couch to its original appearance. Then she dry-swallowed.
“C’mon,” Felicia said, “let’s go to bed.”
***
Sasha Kravinoff pulled hard against the webbing that held her hands and feet to the bed. She could see Mary Jane in the doorway, and would dearly love to break the little ginger’s leg and stake her out to lure the Spider. Her rival wore a ragged pair of jeans and a holey white T-shirt. Cheap, shabby clothes, but Sasha would’ve paid dearly for them. After he’d webbed her down, the Spider had ripped away her clothing. She was bare as an animal.
“Drink?” Mary Jane asked, coming closer, a glass of ice water in her hand. Sasha snarled at her. Mary Jane set it down on the nightstand, just in case she changed her mind. “Don’t think Peter and the others aren’t interested in you. They are, a lot. But we decided, as a team, that I should go first. Find out what you taste like without… everything else.”
She reached down and cupped the mound of Sasha’s pussy.
“Whore! Slut!” Sasha screamed.
Mary Jane flicked her in the nose like she was a misbehaving dog. “Shh. I’m trying to make this feel good for you. If Peter heard you talking like that, he’d web your mouth shut. And Felicia has plans for that…” She worked a finger into Sasha’s slit, watching the older woman squirm. “Not shaved, hmm? That’s fine, just a little odd. Your daughter does. She’s learned how important it is for a woman to do sweet little things like that for her man.”
“My daughter will rip your throat out with your teeth!”
“No,” Mary Jane smirked. “But she did almost rip my clit off with them. Though I came like crazy, so I can’t complain.” Her finger sunk deeper into Sasha, discovering the hidden wetness inside. “Wow, your cunt is just seething. Even Ana’s didn’t get so hot. Must be because Peter’s fucking her so often, but you, you haven’t had anyone since Kraven the Cosplayer rimmed a shotgun. How about I just lick and suck that pussy for you?”
“Don’t you dare!” Sasha shouted. “I won’t have your whore lips on me!”
“Objection noted,” MJ said smugly. She took her finger out, dripping wet. “But I think it’s been overruled.” She sucked the last joint of her finger like she was snitching frosting off a birthday cake. “Mmm…. Definitely overruled.” She bent over Sasha, her famous lips now curled in a grin far too wolfish to sell lingerie.
“Ooooh!” Sasha couldn’t help but respond, feeling Mary Jane’s heated tongue burn into her cunt, plunging deep inside, then curling back to lick what had at first escaped. “You bitch! You’re—you’re making me do this!”
“Damn right I am,” Mary Jane shot back, putting a hand on Sasha’s ass. “Nice A, by the way. Inspiring to see in an older woman.” She gave it another squeeze as her tongue whipped and licked back into Sasha’s pussy.
Sasha screamed. “You’re making me—making me!” She bucked her hips off the bed, into Mary Jane’s burrowing head.
“Come!” Mary Jane ordered with lips glossed by Sasha’s juices. “Come for me, bitch. You’re the whore now!”
“No, no!”
Deep inside her, a process had begun of grinding, writhing, contracting and expanding. Sasha had never felt anything like it, even with Sergei. But she knew the weakness of giving into such a trap. She knew it was nothing like the pain that came with strength. And she knew why her daughter had fallen for it.
“I can’t help it,” she muttered as she delivered her taste to Mary Jane Watson, the beloved of her arch-nemesis. “Forgive me, Sergei…”
***
Ana woke abruptly from her dream, burning up. It’d been so vivid—so arousing. Everything in it was forbidden, a frenetic betrayal of her family, her legacy… but oh, God, if she could’ve just seen a little more…!
“Well, someone had a nice nap,” Felicia yawned, stretching out to strain her nightie with her impressive bust. “Little green helpers do hit the spot, don’t they? Not that I blame you for soaking through the mattress—did you see that fight Spider had with Deadpool? I love it when they wrestle around…”
“I… I…” Ana was short of breath. “I didn’t know I could feel this way, without being touched. It was so real--!”
“I know, sweetie. Look but don’t touch can be so hard. Do you want a cold shower or…” Felicia made a vague sort of touch at Ana’s knee. “Do you want to need a shower?”
“I… think I should wait for Peter. To initiate me.” Ana nodded to herself. “He will soon, yes?”
“Oh yeah…” Felicia looked over Ana. Approving of her ‘naturalistic’ choice of sleepwear. But then, if Peter had tried to resist two women having sex with him, he could probably hold out against three.
Poor bitch. If she’d fallen for Cyclops or someone, he’d probably just have fucked her brains out by now. But no, she had to have a crush on Peter, the guy who made Captain America look like a fratboy. Felicia would have to look out for her.
“How about,” Felicia suggested, “you take a cold shower… with me?”
Ana looked over Felicia’s body, blushing. “Would Peter approve?”
“I think it’s safe to say yes.”
***
The shower took longer than usual; obviously. By the time they were done, Peter was back, sitting on the couch, sewing up his costume again. It was cut from sternum to belly, but he’d been just fast enough that the slash had only left a few scabbing lines. Mostly, the sight of him topless was an extremely welcome one.
Felicia held up an arm to stop Ana from leaving the bathroom. “Would you like to watch us?”
It took a moment for Ana to realize what she meant. “You would show me how to please him?”
“Well… the thing about Peter is, what makes him happy is us being happy. So he’s going to show you how to please me, which is also pretty important. It’s my apartment, after all.”
“But his harem!” Ana protested.
Felicia rolled her eyes. “My massaging showerhead.” That ended the argument. She skirted her towel down to a level that it could not stay at. “Watch closely,” she told Ana. Hips swaying, she left the bathroom, heedlessly passing by Peter as her towel came loose.
“Oops,” she said. Then kicked Peter’s sewing away from him. “Oops,” she repeated, taking him by the air, ushering him to the wetness Ana had started.
Ana touched herself, but it wasn’t them exactly that she was thinking of.
***
Felicia had come into the room wearing a tightly closed trenchcoat, much as she might wear to cover her catsuit and wear it as street clothes. When she took it off, however, she wasn’t wearing her normal costume, but a low-cut bodysuit of black leather, leaving her long legs exposed as well as most of her breasts. Her nipples would be visible if it weren’t for her trademark white fur trim. Spiked heels made her seem even taller and more imposing.
“Look at me,” she ordered Sasha. “What do you see, you piece of shit?”
Sasha snarled right back, tearing at the webbing holding her down. “A whore for Spider-Man! A cock-sucking, cum-drinking whore!”
Felicia smiled suddenly, putting the lie to her dominatrix act. Some people really thought she went in for that sort of thing, like that bint from Gotham. She wasn’t the one who used a whip. “Good. We match.”
She reached down to the zipper hidden at her crotch. A little pull and both her pussy and asshole were exposed. The fur on her crotch matched that of her neckline.
“You really thought you were high-class, didn’t you?” Felicia spoke almost sadly. “Some master villain like the Green Goblin or Doc Ock, just because you let some OG bad guy spurt in you? Lady, you’re not even a Hobgoblin. You’re a pesty little annoyance that’s irritated the man I love, so even though you’re ridiculously unimportant, I’m gonna kick your ass just for being such a goddamn bother. And then, once I’ve punished you for all the shit you’ve pulled, you’re going to get more fucking than most women get in their entire lives. Because I’m nice like that.”
Sasha rubbed her thighs together, hating the feel of her sex sparking in excitement. She could still feel Mary Jane’s tongue fouling her body. But something about the harsh way Felicia spoke was exciting her more than ever, shamelessly exciting her. She felt more degraded than ever and she liked it. There was nothing she could do to halt the rising passion she felt.
Smiling sadistically, Felicia threw herself onto the bound woman, straddling her, then coming down with vicious slaps on Sasha’s face, whipping it from side to side with the force of her blows. Sasha refused to cry out, but she couldn’t help but feel her cunt growing slicker and wetter from the rough treatment. Then Felicia punched her in the face, leaving her eyes watering, and slid down Sasha’s body, slapping her full breasts, her downy stomach, her taut ass.
Sasha rolled to and fro, trying to squirm away from the hands that came whistling down on her body like bombs, but there was no escape. Then Felicia knelt between Sasha’s thrashing legs, forcing them apart with her knees, and slapped Sasha right in the cunt.
“Sergei!” Sasha cried with the terrible, beautiful agony that iced its way up her battered body. “Help me, Sergei, don’t let her--!”
Felicia slapped her pussy again and again, only stopping to roll Sasha over as far as the webbing would allow, dig her fingernails into Sasha’s full ass, and rake scarlet lines, hot as coals, down Sasha’s buttocks. Through the slit in her bodysuit, Sasha could see she was dripping wet.
“Stoooop!” Sasha cried at last. “Please stop, I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything you want!”
Felicia grabbed Sasha by the hair, wrenching it nearly off her scalp. “You’re goddamn right you will, you little cunt. I haven’t even started to make you pay for all the shit you’ve pulled, on my family, on my city! Fucking piece of shit—I should just kill you right now and save Peter the time he’d waste sticking his magnificent cock in your worthless cooz.”
“No, no!” Sasha begged. “Please, I’m sorry!” She thrashed helplessly, tears rolling down her cheek like Felicia was still beating her. “I’ll do anything, I promise, just please stop!”
Felicia jerked Sasha’s head up. “You’re lucky, bitch. You’re talking to a veteran of the penal system. I guess it’d be hypocritical of me of me not to let you off on good behavior. If you get me off with good behavior.”
Sasha was half-conscious, the burning of her adrenaline beginning to fade, replaced with the riptide of aches and pains from her bruising. And yet her whole body felt alive, she felt energized. The hunt had gone all wrong, she was out of ammo, weaponless, the predator had become the prey and she was being stalked now, but that was the risk that came of hunting, that was the point of the hunt, the gamble, and she felt her body exult in it every bit as much as she would at victory. God, she was so aroused, burning in the silky hollow of her stomach.
“I’ll eat your pussy,” Sasha moaned, staring up at Felicia with adoring, pleading eyes. “I’ll… I’ll show you what I learned from Mary Jane. If you let me suck your pussy—it’s such a pretty pussy—I’ll make you feel so good. Just tell me what to do! Please tell me what to do!”
Felicia stared down at the reddening body of her prey, proud eyes now wet with pain and lust and submission. With a cry of lustful triumph, Felicia straddled Sasha’s face.
“You belong to me!” Felicia shouted, silencing Sasha’s pitiful begging with her wet cunt. “Me and Peter own you! Your tits, your gash, your useless mouth, they’re mine now! That’s my tongue in your mouth now, and I want it licking my cunt!”
While adept at inflicting pain, Sasha was more a believer in ‘dishing it out’ than ‘taking it’. So though Felicia had hurt her comparatively little, especially in comparison to what Sasha had done to her enemies, Sasha was suffering so much that she nearly came just at the knowledge that Felicia wouldn’t hurt her any more. Aroused and fearful in equal measure, she opened her mouth under the leaking lips of Felicia’s sex and tasted a woman’s juices for the first time.
“Yeah,” Felicia moaned. “Make me come. Make me come real good. Usually, it’d be Peter’s job, but tonight, he’s gonna be too busy fucking you…”
Sasha trembled in fear, was degraded by what she was being forced to do, but however much her body ached, it was nothing compared to the fires lighting up in her swollen pussy. She slithered her tongue into Felicia’s clutching sex, felt the taste bloom in her mouth, and Felicia responded powerfully. Bucked against Sasha’s face, driving it into the bed’s headboard like she was dribbling a basketball.
“Oh fuck!” Felicia gasped. “You’re as good at eating pussy as your daughter! Now I know where you bitches get it from. Must be fucking genetic.” She rode Sasha’s tongue like a horse. “Oh, you whores are wasted on weirdo fucking Russians with dumb-ass goatees! I’m so glad you’re on our side now. Licking our beautiful cunts like you were born to. I can’t wait until Ana gets here. MJ can sit on her face while I ride yours. And Peter, Peter can fuck both of you--!”
The thought crescendoed in a scream, Felicia’s voluptuous body rocking with a series of firecracker climaxes, wetly exploding on Sasha’s lips. Sasha whimpered, feeling the death of the Kravinoff line, the death of the woman who’d been Sergei Kravinoff’s great love. She was now a groveling whore, a creature of sex and pain. Her beaten body was torn open by a painful orgasm, Sasha realizing just how completely she’d been debauched.
Felicia was coming in her mouth, Sasha’s mind shattering with the thought that it was the Spider’s whore, not even his wife, but his bitch that was doing this to her, washing away her old life in streams of liquid pleasure.
Felicia caught her breath as Sasha gulped her cum, as quickly as possible, drinking down every drop forced into her mouth. “Now we’ll find you some new clothes. Some nice lingerie that old ladies like you need to keep Peter interested. I’ll see if I can find one with a lion’s face on the front, for old time’s sake.”
***
A few days and Peter was finally letting her patrol with him. Ana enjoyed it. Like being on a hunt with her mother, she was able to rejoice in the ecstasy of sharing something so intimate with someone so special. She intended to bring him a great trophy…
She kept up with him through ease as he put her through her paces, leading her to Park Avenue and an apartment building with a smattering of police vehicles and news crews collected in front of it. They slipped in through an open window as quickly as a dart.
“Just heard about it on the police scanner,” Peter said. “Guys came in disguised as TV repairmen, kidnapped the daughter of the guy who invented the new Sprite flavor.”
Ana looked around the room dismally—empty except for police tape fluttering in the AC, waiting for another going over from CSI—and replied “So let police handle it. They can afford to pay ransom. Let’s go handle bank robbery in Spanish Harlem instead…”
“Hornhead can handle that,” Peter replied. “And I don’t care if they can pay the ransom, I don’t want a little girl to be scared and alone any longer than she has to be!”
Ana grimaced, snarling at herself for displeasing him. Of course. New York was his territory. King of the jungle. He couldn’t just allow interlopers… “Does anyone in the family smoke?”
Peter gave his surroundings another look, though he’d already scanned them. “No cigarette packs, no ashtrays…”
“I smell tobacco. Recent, but not old. Only in top layer.”
Suddenly Ana was looping out off the fire escape, down to the ground, Peter following her. Seeing the two of them, the news people came in with microphones and cameras like an angry mob would wield torches and pitchforks. Peter ignored the shouted questions. He wasn’t worried about Ana’s secret identity. She wore one of Felicia’s domino masks and safari wear like her father’s.
“What?”
Ana was picking at the gutter. “Cigarette butts. Same brand. Washed away by rain yesterday, but old smell, lingering smell.”
“A stake-out?”
Ana patted the pavement. “Car parked here, person waited, smoked cigarettes. Smell still on him when he go inside.”
“That does help us.” Peter wrapped an arm around Ana and jumped, carrying her up to a building top. Ana brushed her lips around his chest. Soon.
He called Felicia, asking her to hack into the city’s CCTV cameras. The police had checked them at the time of the abduction, but Peter’d already heard they’d used a stolen car, ditched it in a shadow zone. His hunch was right. Felicia found a car that’d been parked in the same spot three times in the last week, an ex-con dumping his Turkish Blends out his open window. The car was registered to him. It came with an address in the Bronx.
***
Two in the living room, one in the bedroom, probably not much room in the bathroom. Unless they had reinforcements in the neighboring apartment, Peter didn’t see any problems with letting Ana help. He went into the living room, webbed up the guns before they could unwisely void their deposit, let them tucker themselves out with some blocks and parries, then shoved them back and webbed them up the rest of the way.
Ana had gone into the bedroom. She came out with the girl in her arms. “She’s fine. They had her in bathtub.”
“And the third man?”
“Less fine. But finer than he could be.”
Peter nodded to her. “Good work.” He held out his arms and Ana set the little girl down. She ran to him. A big fan.
***
It was a busy day. They also foiled some muggings, put out a car fire, webbed up a van of Hammerhead’s goons with their drugs still in their briefcases. And Peter took Ana to the Daily Bugle, gave her the tour, introduced her to a few people, and put in a good word for her with Robbie about their intern program. He’d promised a callback once her application was processed.
Felicia had a bottle of 130-year-old brandy waiting for them to celebrate their victory, which she promised was not stolen, or at least wouldn’t count as stolen when she returned it. Peter consented to a finger, as did Felicia, though Peter only took a sip before letting Ana have his.
Felicia, as always, had plans for them. She’d been aghast to hear Ana had never seen Bridget Jones’s Diary, and with Peter calling it a night, he was trapped between them on the sofa. Ana curled up against him, head in his lap, while Felicia rested comfortably under his arm, answering all the questions Ana had about just about everything.
(“If she wants both Hugh Grant and Colin Firth, why does she not simply invite both in bed with her? She has a mouth, she has cunt, she has her bottom…”)
Peter was more entertained by Ana’s questions than the movie. When the credits rolled, he turned the TV off, obligingly picked Felicia up since she had her arms around him, and took her to her bedroom. He helped Felicia out of some of her clothes, then undressed himself, noticing Ana in the doorway finally.
“You’ve been sleeping with Felicia,” he asked.
Ana nodded. “It’s like being part of a family again.”
“She wants me with her.”
“I know.”
Peter looked away. Even without the mask, Ana knew he was thinking keenly, the same as he had trying to figure out where the girl had gone. She stood silently, waiting for his decision.
“Do you want to stay?” he asked. “It’s a big bed.”
“I would.”
Peter nodded. “Get the door then.”
***
He slept on one side of the bed. Felicia slept under his arm. Ana slept behind Felicia. She didn’t mind being the bigger spoon. She’d been that for her mother, sometimes. When Sasha missed Sergei.
Peter fell asleep quickly. Ana wondered if he’d ever been a night owl like Felicia. Like herself.
“Well-played,” Felicia said, when she was sure he was asleep.
“Playing implies plan. I’m just waiting.”
“Keep waiting. He’s slow to trust people, trust them not to hurt him—but he’s also worth it.”
“Yes.” Ana’s eyes trailed down Peter’s bare body, down to the recesses of his boxers, the imprint of his manhood. She did not know the sight of it, but now she knew its size. “Can I touch myself?”
“Yes,” Felicia told her.
Ana slipped her hand down into her panties, Felicia watching in case she needed any pointers.
***
Sasha was still and dark, paralyzed, unable to force herself to breathe. She’d heard that was what it felt like to drown. Not struggling or flailing—you just went under. And she was drowning…
Ana stood in the room, watching her, not saying a word. She looked to the door, sensing Peter’s arrival. Then she went to the bed, lying down beside her naked mother as Spider-Man came in the room.
The Spider approached slowly, Sasha cringing away from him, knowing his eyes were tracing all over her nudity, nakedness meant only for her husband. Ana held Sasha still.
“Look, Peter,” she said. “Her breasts are so big from having me. Her pussy nice and loose for you because I came out of it.”
The Spider stood over Sasha. He reached down with one gloved hand, crudely entering Ana’s sex. She wailed—it already felt good.
“Seems tight enough.” He tugged down his fly. “I can fix that.”
Sasha’s eyes grew even wider at the sight of his cock. He was bigger than Sergei had ever been!
Next to them, Ana relished the sight of her mother’s forced pleasure, her suffering the wonderful cruelty of his slow and relentless invasion. Through the mask, Spider-Man’s grimace was pure lust, feeling Sasha’s tight muscles double down on his advancing hardness. As much as she wailed, as much as she flailed, the look on her face was one of lust; the pressure on his cock was need.
“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself,” Spider-Man smiled down at her, making Ana laugh, and the woman twisted her head away, trying to hide in her own world of pain and humiliation.
Spider-Man flexed his throbbing cock deep inside her; she groaned, the cords of her stately neck standing out from her whole body growing tense.
“Answer me,” he ordered her. “Most women would give anything for a fuck like this.”
“I certainly did,” Ana added as Spider-Man arched up into Sasha again.
Spider-Man jammed himself into Sasha suddenly, the woman’s teeth clenching together so hard they nearly shattered as she tried to keep her moan locked inside. He scraped his gloved hand over her, roughly squeezing her breast, bringing a stiff nipple up to the light. “Yeah, you’re enjoying it. So be polite and ask for more.” He withdrew a few inches, Sasha shaking as he deliciously tapered out of her. “Let me hear you beg for it.”
“No, never—“
Ana reached over and slapped her. “Beg! Now!”
Sasha felt her hard heart giving over to pain, panic, to the pleasure she’d denied herself so long. I can hurt him later, she thought. If I just get through this, I can resume the hunt…
She ignored the slickening squelch of his prick through her wet sex, saying “Do it, please, do it to me.”
Spider-Man kept pulling his swollen cudgel from her tightly quivering pussy. It was almost out now. “Do what?”
Sasha had never felt so helpless, so vulnerable, so weak.
It turned her on so much.
“Fuck me!”
Ana gave him a nod, but Spider-Man didn’t need her to sense the loss of her mother’s last resistance. He brought his mask low to Sasha’s face, her contorted face vast and painfully stark in the reflection of his lenses, his cock beginning a slow rocking motion back between her widespread thighs.
Sasha groaned in helpless recognition of her own pleasure. Part of her wanted to die, part of her had never felt so alive—that part made her want him to kill her all the more. In her desperation, she tried to help him, throwing her pelvis up against his stately entry into her, feeling him going deeper inside her, claiming her, screaming with every useless, powerful thrust she made against him.
As much as she tried to cling to it, the pain was leaving her, replaced with something masochistic, lewd, sensual. She was responding to his work between her open, muscular thighs, her entire body twisting and contorting beneath his thrusts, her mouth working out mewls of servile acceptance, pleasured satiation. As a light sweat coated her body, she leaned up to answer his coital thrusting with her tongue, running it over his mask.
Sasha felt, thrillingly, his hands slip over the naked curves of her hips, under her rounded buttocks, squeezing them harshly in either hand as he thrust into her with a greater frenzy. As he pulled her to his hardness, she opened her trembling thighs even further, experiencing her tormented pussy being entered fuller than ever.
Ana couldn’t be left out any longer. She moved down to capture one of Sasha’s bouncing breasts between her teeth, nibbling it and sucking it as she had as a child. Sasha sobbed at the new debasement, her newfound ecstasy, and Spider-Man surged with his every ounce of grunting strength, fucking Sasha with a fury he would never use on Felicia or Mary Jane. Her cries, pained but pleasurable, only made him rut into her harder as Ana sucked and twitched beside him.
The electricity of their newfound relationship, master and slave, burst through the three of them in a stroke of lightning. Ana threw her leg over one of Sasha’s widespread thighs and rode it to a fast, dirty climax, her cries mingling with Sasha’s as the older woman seesawed up against Spider-Man, coming just as fast.
“Time to give you a sister, Ana,” Spider-Man cried, unleashing his load into Sasha’s womb with wild, trembling arches that pulled his body as taut as a drawn bowstring. He buried himself to the balls in her, and she clung to him in pure, abandoned relief.
“Is it over?” Sasha asked fearfully, feeling the last jerk of Spider-Man’s cock inside her. It had not noticeably diminished, but still she was afraid he would take it away.
“No.” Spider-Man nodded to Ana, who reached under the bed, coming up with one of Felicia’s favorite strap-ons. She pulled it on, attached it to herself with well-practiced familiarity, and moved to take Spider-Man’s place as he stepped away from Sasha. “I don’t know how much it’ll help to push my cum halfway up your throat, but it can’t hurt. Meanwhile…” He stepped behind Ana, gripping his revitalized cock to her entrance. “Let’s see about giving you a granddaughter.”
***
Two fingers reaming her open cunt, digging in and out like the stab of a knife, Ana finally climaxed. Peter had made her such a good girl. A superhero. She knew now what her fantasies were showing her, why they were so vivid.
For a long time, she’d known that her mother would come to reclaim her. That she would be forced to choose between the old way and the new. Now she knew; she didn’t have to. Peter would change Sasha, just as he had Ana. Once Sasha saw how good it was to be Peter’s broodmare, how wonderful a huntsman he was, she would join his harem willingly. Ana just had to make her see.
She couldn’t wait for them to be a family again.
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The Gwen Stacy Syndrome