Thursday, December 25, 2014
Happy Holidays to all of you who stick with me even though I hardly ever have time to update this blog!
I'd like to give you all a couple of little Christmas gifts.
These come to you from me by way of SoupGoblin and RedBones!
Firstly, if you are unaware of this fact, SoupGoblin has published a story on Amazon called "The Jockstrap Banidt".
It is amazing!
Go get yourself a copy today and support him and his future endeavors at erotica publishing!
If you cant tell, I became an instant fan of the Jockstrap Bandit.
So I took it upon myself to commission on of my favorite artists (RedBones *kiss kiss*) to draw a scene from the story!
Now I don't expect you to go and buy a copy of the Jockstrap bandit just because I say so.
No...I expect you to because I have something else for you all that will prove just how awesomely SoupGoblin writes his smut!
That's right! I commissioned a story from him and I want you all to read it!
So here you go!
A lovely bit of Marvel naughtiness set in the continuity of the "Ultimate Spider-Man" cartoon!
I hope you all enjoy.
And once more....Merry Christmas!
“SPIDER-MAN IS A MENACE!!!”
“Oh put a sock in it J. Jonah,” Peter Parker muttered as he swung through the city in his costumed identity as Spider-Man. The webhead was on his way up from the last class of highschool to the helicarrier for his daily training. Since becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent his new bosses had really ridden him hard, working to shape him into the best hero he could be. He didn’t mind too much, but made sure to still put the time in for his regular superhero duties, too.
”Help! Help! That thief stole my purse!”
Case in point.
Spider-Man swung down to see a mugger rushing off, purse in hand, while an older woman with a child in tow pointed frantically after him. “Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll get it back for you!” he called out to her, and took off after him, shooting webs one after the other to keep himself swinging at street level. In a flash he’d caught up to the running man and stuck his legs together with a burst of web fluid, making him fall flat on his face and release the stolen goods.
“Gah?! Spider-Man?” he gasped out as he turned his head.
“The one and only!” Peter confirmed. He then tied the man up further with another round of webbing, finishing off with a spurt on the mouth to gag him. “Now, I should really haul you off to the cops, but since I’m running late I think I’ll just leave a note on you for them instead . . . “
“Oh! Young man! Thank you so much!” cried the old lady as she hobbled up on her cane, smiling in gratitude. The small boy with her was dancing around. “That was cool!”
“Hey, no problem for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” he told them, drinking in the uncommon praise. “Here, let me get this for you . . . “ He put out a hand to stop her from bending over to pick up her fallen purse, and reached down to retrieve it himself.
And that’s when it happened.
“Huh?” he said in shock. As he’d bent fully over, the spandex material of his suit had stretched out taut across his rear--and then given way under the strain. He quickly straightened up, feeling a draft at his behind. “Oops!”
“Grandma! Look! It’s Spider-Man’s BUTT!” the little kid laughed.
“Oh my!” Her hand fluttered to her chest. Then she covered her young charge’s eyes. “Don’t look, Jimmy!”
But the kid was giggling madly at the sight. A few passersbys did too, chuckling at the sight of the famous urban hero walking about with his rear literally popping out of his tight costume. Even the mugger was laughing behind his web-gag.
“Um, well here’s your purse ma’am now if you’ll excuse me I better be going!” he said quickly, fumbling over her valuables and then shooting a line into the sky to swing up on. He ascended to much laughter, his buns mooning the gathering crowd. He groaned as he changed course and headed back home for a change of clothes. How come there was never a big group of people around to witness his heroics, but there was always one when something embarrassing happened to him?
* * * * *
“And what a perfect time to be going commando!” he groaned. On top of everything else, it’d been laundry day.
He sat on his bed and examined the tear in the suit, sticking a finger through the hole and wiggling it around. “Now what am I gonna do?” It wasn’t like he could ask Aunt May to repair a tear in his superhero costume. He sighed. He’d just have to fix it himself later. Until then, he’d wear one of his spare costumes up to the training session on the Helicarrier.
“Let’s just hope the rest of my day improves . . . “
* * * * *
“Where have you been?” Nova asked obnoxiously when he finally showed up to the training room.
“Sorry, sorry! I got . . . held up with some stuff,” Peter said self-consciously.
“Well it’s about time, man,” Powerman said, though not in an unfriendly manner. Behind him, Iron Fist also nodded with a half-smile. “Fashionably late is perhaps the most punctual time of all.”
“Um . . . sure.”
“Pff! Whatever!” Nova scoffed, zipping up into the air. “Let’s just get started already. I don’t see why we had to wait for him anyway!”
“Maybe because of a little thing called ’I’m team leader’?” Spider-Man pointed out.
On the monitor before them, the face of Agent Coulson suddenly appeared. Not only their principal at school, he was also their training coordinator on the carrier. “Hello team,” he said perfunctorily. “Spider-Man, you’re fifteen minutes late. Anything wrong?”
“No, I, uh, just had to make an unexpected stop at home.”
“Alright.” Coulson appeared to accept that explanation at face value. “Is everyone ready to start today’s session?”
Before Spider-Man could answer, Nova flew in front of him. “Yeah dude, let’s get this show on the road!”
“Very well. We’ll start with an evasion exercise. Dodge these drones for as long as you can.”
From all around the group holes in the floor suddenly opened up through which various robots rose, aiming weapons at them. They were armed with mild concussive energy blasters--non-lethal, but still hurt like heck if you got hit by one, as all in the group knew by now. Powerman immediately dove to the floor, while Iron Fist performed an elaborate martial arts kata to keep clear of the whizzing bolts. For Spider-Man and Nova, their options were more open. Both went upward in their own fashion--Spider-man on webs, Nova with his plasma-fueled jetstream.
“Hey Spider-turd! Bet I can last longer against these bots than you!” Nova called over to him, zipping every which way as he dodged the spraying lasers with ease.
Peter rolled his eyes at the insult, but nodded at the competition. “You’re on Bucket Head!” he called back as he released his web and landed against a wall, sticking to it and then springboarding off when a droid trained its sights on him. With his danger sense, this test should be a cinch. All he had to do was stay aware of his surroundings and react before any blast . . . hit . . . him . . . ?
He gasped in shock as, for the second time that day, he felt the seat of his suit tear. “What??” The strain of twisting around while airborne had apparently been too much for the material. “Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me!” he yelled as his backside became exposed mid-leap.
Nova was the first to notice. “Dude! Everybody check out Spidey!”
Spider-man finished his flip as gracefully as he could, then quickly turned so only his frontside was showing to his teammates. “Whoopsie! Just a minor wardrobe malfunction,” he told them, certain he must be blushing right through his mask. “I’ll just go to my locker and change out--YAAAHH!”
A round of concussive force blasts hit him from behind--some hitting on his behind--hard enough to knock him off his feet and faceplant right on the floor, bare ass wobbling around in full view of his team. It took about two seconds for them to start laughing uproariously at it.
Peter groaned and wished he could sink into the helicarrier’s floor. Perfect, just perfect.
* * * * *
“At least White Tiger’s away on a mission, so she didn’t see,” he muttered, back home in the safety of his room. Although with teammates like his, they might already be spreading the video all over the internet. Peter sighed. To make matters worse, he didn’t keep a change of clothes on the helicarrier so he’d had to swing back home feeling a draft the whole way. He just hoped no one had happened to look up that afternoon and seen his Spidey-buns peeping out.
Now he stood in his room, naked, looking at the latest ruined costume on his bed. “But I don’t get it. Two busted seams in one day? Seems a little bit too coincidental.”
On a hunch, he went to the secret stash of costumes hidden in the back of his closet and took out another spare suit. He slipped it on and fastened it up. Just as it was at his waist though and he was pulling it up his back--RIIIP!
“What? No way!” he fumed, turning towards the mirror and seeing that a seam in that costume had ripped too--the same as in all the others--splitting right down the center of his butt. In the reflection his smooth, perky buns mooned cheekily back at him, as though they were mocking his futile attempts to keep them covered.
He took the costume off and examined the damage more carefully. There was something off about the tears. Like they were ripped just a little bit too perfectly. Further investigation confirmed what he already suspected--the seams had been weakened somehow before he’d even put them on. “Why, this isn’t just your everyday wardrobe malfunction. This is . . . sabotage!”
He quickly dashed back to his closet. “This one too?!” he gasped as the first one he checked had the same weakness. “And this one?! And even this one!?” Suit after suit went sailing over his head as he went through every costume he had. By the end, the results spoke for themselves. Every single Spider-Man costume he had was rigged so that the butt popped out. They appeared to have all been somehow shrunk as well so they’d be even tighter on him than normal.
“But who would do something like this?!” he asked. After a bit of mulling, his thoughts slowly turned to Nova. That guy had been the loudest to laugh on the helicarrier. He’d also goaded Spider-Man into stretching the suit to it’s fullest, and been the first to point out the rip when the embarrassment had happened.
“So, Nova thought it’d be funny to ruin all my suits, huh? Well, we’ll just see how he likes being humiliated!”
* * * * *
“AS IF HIS USUAL BRAND OF INDECENCY ISN’T ENOUGH, NOW HE’S EVEN EXPOSING HIMSELF TO INNOCENT CHILDREN AND GRANDMOTHERS!” J. Jonah Jameson bellowed from his gigantic screen the next day while footage of Spider-Man’s first wardrobe malfunction, thankfully blurring out the sensitive bits, played behind the blowhard.
“Hey, I did not! And anyway, that was an accident!” he defended himself while giving a groan. “So typical that someone in that crowd had a camera . . . ”
Later, as he walked down the halls of the carrier to the team meeting, Nova flew up to him. “Hey web-head, check out the highest trending vid on youtube today!” he’d said with a smirk, holding out his phone. On it was the same footage Jameson had been using--except uncensored.
Peter pursed his lips at the sight of his bare-naked ass on the screen. “Thanks Nova, I’ve seen it.”
“Heheh, well why not watch it again? I’ve already shared it on my facebook, twitter, and myspace so everyone can enjoy it. Though nothing could beat seeing the real thing in action!” Nova laughed, flying around to behind Peter and giving his butt a slap. “How’s your costume doing today? Not gonna split open again, is it? Because if it is, let me know so I can get my camera ready first!”
Peter’s gaze narrowed. He’d spent the better part of the morning repairing the seam in his tights. And that was after spending the entire night working on his new web fluid formula. Sure, it meant he was sleep-deprived, but that only made him more dangerous.
“Sure Nova. You can get ready right now. But it’s not gonna be me who’s gonna be showing off for the camera . . . ”
“Wha--” Nova heard the sinister tone in Spider-Man’s voice, but didn’t react quickly enough to prevent the webbing from hitting him square in the chest. “Gah! Dude! What gives!”
“You’ll see. Just say cheese,” Spider-Man said with a smile, pulling out his own camera which he kept on hand for his photography job at the Daily Bugle.
“Huh?” Nova looked down at himself just in time to realize it wasn’t Spider-man’s normal webbing which had struck him. It was some sort of gray, goopy matter . . . a sort of goo which looked oddly familiar. As he watched, it spread across his upper body and he felt a tingling sensation.Then--a draft! Where the had been and moved on, there was now only bare skin showing!
“What the hell is this?!!” he yelled as he frantically tried to keep it from eating away at his clothes.
“It’s simple, really. You remember our friend Andy the Awesome Android, don’t you?” Spider-Man asked with a chuckle. A synthetic organism, Andy had been composed of material which absorbed any inorganic matter it came across. It’s effect on clothing had been shown rather dramatically when it swallowed up agent Coulson right in front of the whole student body, only to excrete the principal moments later in the nude. Later on in its rampage it also did the same thing to the bull-headed Juggernaut, popping the musclebound villain out of itself utterly naked and horrified (much to the team’s amusement at the time)
“What the--You made him into web fluid!?” Nova screeched, covering his crotch as the goo worked it’s way down. Most of his chest and arms were exposed.
“Yep! And it was easier than you’d think! Just had to get the formula just right, build in a limiter so it doesn’t go out of control like last time, and then adjust the viscosity. Took an all-nighter, but I had good motivation after what you did.”
“What I did? Dude, I didn’t do nothing! Get this stuff off me!”
But Spider-Man just leaned back against the wall and grinned as the awesome android formula continued it’s humiliating work. First Nova’s torso was exposed, then it worked itself down his arms, his thighs, gloves, boots . . . when it was finally done he was left just wearing his helmet. Everything else he had--besides what he protectively cupped beneath his hands--was completely exposed to the various S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel walking the corridor. He understandably became the center of attention very quickly.
All in all the process from costumed to stripped lasted barely five seconds.
“I’m gonna get you for this Spider-Man!!” Nova cried as he flew off as fast as he could, while Peter just laughed.
“Oh man, that was the best!”
* * * * *
“Man, did we just see what we think we saw?” Luke Cage walked up to him later. “Nova flying around the Helicarrier in the buff? And crying about how it was all your fault?”
Spider-Man smirked and folded his arms behind his head. “I might’ve had something to do with it.”
“Man, you better watch out then. Sam’s got a vindictive streak a mile wide.”
Iron Fist nodded. “He is not one to avoid taking petty revenge,” he concurred.
“Revenge, huh? Well, I’m not afraid of him,” Peter said staunchly. “Let him come at me. I’ll take him on any time, any pla--YEOW!”
He was interrupted from his bragging by the sudden sensation of his balls being hoisted up quite painfully. A re-dressed Nova had flown up behind Spider-Man at top speed, darted his hands into the seat of his tights, and hauled out the waistband of his underwear in a killer wedgie.
“Hah! Nice tighty-whities, spidey-lamer!” Nova mocked.
“Aaahh! It’s laundry day!”
Due to the speed that Nova was flying, Spider-Man was dragged behind him and they soon left Iron Fist and Powerman far behind as they hurtled down the helicarrier’s corridors one after the other, the unfortunate hero riding the surge of cotton yanked up his ass. He squirmed and tried to shake himself loose, Nova just had too much momentum for him to succeed. “Yeargh! Where are you taking me!?”
“Hahah! You’ll see!”
Spider-Man saw indeed. Nova carried him by his briefs right out one of the upper decks, and then over to one of the control towers used to direct the helicarrier’s many aircraft. Smirking, the cocky flying hero hung Spider-Man from an antenna by his waistband.
“Have fun hanging around up here, Spider-Man!” Nova taunted, giving him a slap on his butt to make him swing back and forth, then zooming off before Peter could get a bead on him with his stripping webs.
“Ugh! Great, now what?” he asked as he hung suspended. His own weight was digging his underwear into his ass crack, and he was on the tallest edifice around so there wasn’t anything to shoot a web at and haul himself up that way. He felt uncomfortably like the geek he’d been before getting a radioactive spider bite, back when he’d get wedgied by Flash Thompson every day. Speaking of Flash, though . . . he’d make the perfect recipient for a round of ‘stripping webs’ himself. Peter could just imagine the look on the dumb jock’s face if he suddenly being naked in front of all his peers. Maybe during the next pep rally, or at the homecoming parade?
“Heh heh heh, yeah . . . that’d be perfect!” Spider-Man snickered, just before his briefs tore under the strain and he fell to the Helicarrier deck bare-ass. “Waahhh!”
* * * * *
“Heheh, I’m telling you man, it was perfect!” Nova bragged.
“Yeah . . . so you’ve told us seven times now,” Powerman answered surlily.
“I counted eight,” said Ironfist.
“Yeah but--he was just hanging there! By his underwear! It was hysterical!”
“Okay, granted. But don’t you think you guys are acting a little--immature? Ruining each other’s costumes, giving wedgies? That’s like kid stuff.”
“Whatever, man. He started it!”
“Well, I could contest that, but regardless of who started it, I plan on finishing it,” a familiar voice suddenly said from behind them in the metal corridor. They turned to see Spider-Man standing there with a fully loaded web-shooter.
“Oh, crap. Quick, scatter!” Powerman yelled. He dove with Iron Fist to the floor while the hero pointed at Nova.
“Get ready to be naked!” Spider-Man smirked, and released the strand.
But this time Nova was ready. He dodged to the side just in time, and instead the web formula ate through part of a doorway. “Hah! Nice shot, web-for-brains!”
Spider-Man’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah?!” He shot again. This time Nova flew high, and the webbing hit a nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Oops! Uh, sorry about that,” he said awkwardly as the man’s clothes started to melt off him.
“Hahah! You need to work on your aim, Spidey! You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn!” Nova taunted.
“We’ll see about that!” Spider-Man released another round of webbing. Nova flew all over the corridor, swerving wildly to avoid being hit--and he somehow managed. No one else else in the crowded corridor was so lucky though. Agents everywhere gasped as their armor and suits quickly disappeared from their bodies, the Awesome Android formula eating right through them and leaving them as bare as newborns.
“Oh man! You’re gonna get in so much trouble for this!” Nova chortled.
“Nuh uh! This is your fault!” Spider-Man retorted.
“No way, dude!”
Nova flew down the corridor, with Spider-Man swinging right behind him. “Get back here!”
They left a scene of chaos in their wake. Powerman and Iron Fist rose up from their huddled positions to find themselves surrounded on all sides by naked, confused men.
“Uhhh, nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
* * * * *
Web after web shot out from Spider-Man’s wrists, but Nova continued to relentlessly dodge them. Peter just couldn’t get a strand on him no matter how he tried. The same couldn’t be said though for the many engineers, maintenance workers, soldiers, and other operatives they passed by. Spider-Man started to get uncomfortably aware that there must be dozens of naked fellas from all walks of life now littering the halls behind them. Slim men, older men, smooth men, hairy men, young men, buff men, hung men--all had been stripped equally under his formula and were equally scrambling for cover--literally!
But there was still the one guy he really wanted to strip. It’d started out as just some innocent pranking fun, but after Nova had given him a hanging wedgie it really meant war. Spider-Man wasn’t going to stop until Nova was dangling from a web in front of the entire hangar deck, stripped bare for all to see.
“Hey Spidey! Bet you couldn’t hit me even if I stood still!” Nova goaded, hovering in the middle of the corridor and bending over to present his rear.
“Yeah? You’re on!” Spider-Man took the bait, and unloaded a full round of webbing at his teammate--who rolled forward--narrowly dodging the web . . . which soared past him and instead hit . . .
“Spider-Man! Nova! What’s the meaning of this!”
Director Nick Fury stood in the center of the corridor, glaring at them with his one good eye, and flanked by a retinue of agents. The Awesome Android webs had splattered all over him.
“Ummm . . . “
“I’ve been hearing all kinds of wild reports from C&C. Something about a serious loss of equipment and uniforms down here, with you two running amok. Now I’m asking you both--are you the ones responsible?”
“Uhhh . . . “
“Responsible is such a strong word . . . “
He looked between them shrewdly. “I’ll give you both until the count of five to give me a straight answer. One, two . . . “
By this point the rest of the men had caught on to what was happening. They backed away from Nick, watching as his trenchcoat was eaten away before their eyes. Then his armored undervest, his many guns and gadgets, his pants and boots, until finally . . . he was wearing nothing at all.
“ . . . five!” Nick finished sternly. “Now are you ready to talk!”
“Um, director . . . “
“Not now Coulson!” Then Nick glanced behind himself, suddenly feeling a draft. “What the--”
“Uhh, does that count as a straight answer?” Nova asked, pointing down at the man’s naked, muscled and strapping body.
Nick Fury stood completely exposed in front of all his men without so much as a clipboard to hide behind. He looked surprised, and then he turned the full force of his glare on the two miscreant heroes. For a moment Spider-Man and Nova quailed, certain he was going to twist them both into pretzels right then and there, then stuff them into a place so hidden that nobody would find their bodies for a century. But then the S.H.I.E.L.D. leader, grizzled secret agent, coordinator of a thousand dangerous and covert missions, the man who even superhumans rightly feared, did something nobody expected.
. . . He blushed.
“Coulson! Take charge here!” he barked out. Then, retaining as much dignity as possible, marched to an open elevator, stepped within, arms at his side, and pressed the ‘close’ button. The elevator doors shut on a choice view of his taut, muscular black buttocks.
His second-in-command stifled a chuckle behind a cough. “Uh! Uhuh! Well, it seems that the director is temporarily out of commission. In any case, we’ll have to take Spider-Man and Nova into temporary custody, just as a precaution to prevent further mishaps--”
* * * * *
“Hahah! Oh man, I can’t believe you did that!”
“Well I figure, once you denude Nick Fury himself, you can’t really get in any more trouble than you already are,” Spider-Man explained as the two of them made their escape down a hatch. Behind them, Agent Coulson and the rest of the platoon were stumbling around and shielding their crotches, trying to raise the command center on the ship’s comms to send them down some extra uniforms. There were so many blushing man-butts on display, this would surely be a day that’d live in infamy for the helicarrier’s entire crew.
But there was still his #1 victim to get. Just because he and Nova had been momentary allies didn’t mean Spider-Man had forgotten his promise to strip his conceited teammate bare.
“Gotcha!” he suddenly turned, aiming his web-shooters in Nova’s direction. But the flying hero had anticipated the move and he tackled Spider-Man before he could get off a shot. “Ungh! Hey!”
“Like I’m gonna let you use that on me again?! I don’t think so!”
The two crashed off various walls as they wrestled in mid-flight, and by the time they disengaged Spider-Man was startled to find the web-shooter off his left wrist had been taken. “Huh!?” he gasped as he saw Nova fastening it on his own arm.
“Hah! Now let’s see how you like it!”
Spider-Man switched to his normal web-fluid and crafted a shield just in time to protect himself from the sudden blitz of goo webs that Nova shot at him, but to his horror saw that the Awesome Android formula was quickly eating through that, too. He threw the entire mess away, shield and all. Peter shivered, knowing that just one drop of the stuff would have been enough to expose his secret identity--along with the rest of him.
His danger sense tingled again, and he quickly flipped away from the next web spurt. Nova didn’t have the proficiency with the shooters that he did, but he still had to be careful. One shot was all it would take to end this. Whoever got hit first would be stripped, bared, and humiliated.
The two continued to fire intermittently at each other as they made their way through the helicarrier, leaving many gaping holes in the floors, ceilings, and walls as they went. Eventually they busted their way back into the training room. There’d been several close calls, but both had kept on their toes so far and managed to avoid becoming the latest nude youtube sensation.
“Can’t dodge forever!”
“Oh yeah? A lot longer than you can!” Spider-Man bragged. “It’s called a spidey-sense?”
“Yeah well, it’s also called ‘being nearly out of ammo’.”
“Huh?” Spider-Man glanced down at his web-shooter in shock and saw that Nova was right. He only had enough for one more round of webs.
“Same here.” Nova pointed at his own shooter. But then he cocked his head and smirked, putting a fist into his palm. “But I figure that means I just gotta deliver the next shot up close and personal, really make sure it counts.”
‘Y’know, that’s funny . . . “ Spider-Man smirked back. “That’s just what I was thinking.”
With that understanding reached, the two boys hunkered down, ready to pounce (or fly, in Nova’s case) And in three, two, one . . . they sprang! They met in mid-air, twisted, wrestled, grappled and angled for a shot--
“So here you guys are!”
“We have been looking all over for--aah!”
Spider-Man and Nova gaped. So caught up in their drive to strip each other, they’d both instinctively shot their final burst of webs at the opening doorway. Powerman and Iron Fist stood there fuming at the two of them, their costumes rapidly disappearing under their gaze.
Powerman glared at the two, then looked to his friend. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Iron Fist nodded. “They certainly deserve it after all the trouble they’ve been causing.”
They began to walk implacably towards the pair, the last of their clothing getting swallowed up as they did so until all that was left was their sunglasses and bandana, respectively. “Uhhhh, guys? . . . guys? What’re you doing?” Spider-Man asked nervously as their scowling, naked teammates walked up and gripped him and Nova by the arms.
“You’ll see,” Powerman said darkly.
What happened was the two teen heroes got draped over their teammate’s laps. Sam was pulled over Iron Fist’s bare, toned thighs while Peter was put across the bigger and more muscular Powerman’s knee. The two annoyed buck-naked heroes exchanged a look, and then raised their hands in unison. “This is going to hurt you . . . “
“ . . . a lot more than it is going to hurt us!”
“Ouch! Hey, what gives!” Spider-Man yelled as Powerman’s palm clapped down on his tight, spandex-clad rear.
“Yeah, you can’t do this to us!” Nova cried as Iron Fist’s hand gave his perky buns a slap as well. “We’re teammates!”
“On the contrary. It is because we are teammates that we are doing this,” Iron Fist replied sagely.
“Yeah, so you don’t pull this crap ever again!” Luke Cake said as he got into a rhythm.
“Awww man!” the two teenaged heroes groaned as their squirming ass cheeks were heated by a well-deserved spanking. Blow after blow met their upturned rears as they kicked and wiggled.
“Yowwww! Okay okay we’ve learned our lesson! Ahhh!”
“Dudes! This seriously hurts!”
“Good!” Powerman thundered, landing another heavy smack on Spider-Man’s bottom.
“Owwww! Seriously, no more!”
“We’re sorry for--yoww!--stripping you guys butt-naked like that!”
“And for stripping Nick Fury too!”
“And everyone else!”
“Oww, Luke, go easy on me, huh?” Spider-Man looked back at his teammate in supplication. But the expression he saw on Powerman’s face was hardly mercy, but a steely resolve.
“I think we’re ready to start this for real,” Powerman said.
“As do I,” agreed Iron Fist.
“Wait, what do you mean ‘for real’?” Spider-Man asked in a panic. His question was soon answered when he felt the back of his tights seized. “Oh man, no way!” Looking over at Nova, he got a near-perfect view of the guy’s blue tights getting hauled down and his perky tan bottom bounce into view as both were depantsed together.
“DUDE! So not cool!” Nova complained, wiggling his naked ass around over Iron Fist’s muscled legs. “YOW!” He yelped as another spank nailed home.
Spider-Man got a smack too. “Gaaahh!” He jerked over Powerman’s strong, black lap, certain there must be a handprint showing on his pale rear. “Hey, you can’t pull my tights down! I’m team leader!” he tried.
“Not right now you’re not. Right now you’re just two bratty punks in need of a beatdown!”
“Besides, it is only appropriate that you get stripped for your punishment, after stripping so many others this day,” Iron Fist noted.
Groaning from the embarrassment, their stinging butts bobbing up redder and redder under the ceaseless smacks, Spider-Man and Nova’s eyes met. “Dude, this sucks!”
“Oww! I know!”
But they were in it for the long haul whether they liked it or not, since their teammates were determined to discipline them properly. When they were finally stood up, both Spider-Man and Nova had bright red bottoms which they eagerly grabbed to rub some of the sting out.
“Ahh . . . “
“Geez . . . “ They both groaned.
Powerman looked at the two of them balefully. “Now you two stay here and, uh--“
“Contemplate your actions,” Iron Fist supplied.
“Right. Contemplate. While you do that, me and Danny are gonna go hit the showers. Then find something to put on,” Powerman said sourly. “We’ll also be confiscating these.” He took the two web-shooters, then turned on his heel and strutted his way back out of the training room and to the lockers. Iron Fist was at his side, their trim waists and muscled backs on display, as well as their own firm, round, muscled, and thoroughly unspanked asses. Spider-Man pretended not to look as the doors closed on the sight, and then he was left alone with Nova.
There was a moment of awkward silence as the two guys stood there massaging their sore rears. But there was only so much of that two young heroes, stripped below the waist, could do together without some attempt at conversation, right?
“Wow, so that was really . . . “
“Yeah! Tell me about it!”
Another moment passed. Well, that had gone well. Spider-Man cast about for something else to say that wouldn’t just increase the awkwardness.
It surprised him when Nova opened up instead. “It looked like Powerman spanked pretty hard.”
“Uhh--he did! I mean, not like super-strength hard, but yeah, I’ll definitely have trouble sitting for awhile . . . “ Pete admitted as he massaged his globes. “Iron Fist looked like he was spanking hard too,” he said, recalling the sight of Nova’s cheeks bouncing.
“Oh, man! That’s putting it lightly! Instead of ‘Iron Fist’ they oughta call him ‘Iron Palm’!” Nova said hotly. “I won’t be able to sit down for a week! Hey--do you think they’ve ever done that before?”
Spider-Man chuckled. “Spanked their teammates like red-headed stepchildren? Who knows. Right now though all I need is a cushion for my Spidey-cycle and an icebag. But I guess we did deserve it.”
“Yeah, I guess . . . It was so worth it though!”
“Yeah! You know, seeing all the guys bare-ass like that!”
Spider-Man raised an eyebrow at him.
“Not in like a gay way! But, y’know . . . now we know how we, uh, measure up and stuff.” Nova flushed. “Haven’t you ever wondered about stuff like that?”
Peter chuckled. “Not really . . . but I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” Lord know he probably wouldn’t be able to get the image of Luke and Danny’s schlongs out of his head for a while--especially Luke’s massive piece since he’d been accidentally squirming up against it during his whole spanking . . . he guessed it was true what they said about black guys. On that note, it was best not to even think about Nick Fury’s.
He blushed again, grateful he’d been left with his mask on, at least. He watched as Sam kept rubbing his buns, wondering how it would feel to give them a rub himself. “Heh, it’s funny though. The one guy I most wanted to get naked gave me the most trouble.”
Nova seemed to catch on to what he was getting at. “Yeah well . . . I wanted to see you naked too!”
A moment passed.
“ . . . you did?”
He blushed beneath his helmet. “Hey, I said I didn’t mean it like that . . . ”
“Hmmm, you sure?”
“O--of course! Why?”
“Because I can totally see your boner.”
Spider-Man guffawed. “Hah! Gotcha! Wow, you really jumped! You must really be--Wait.” His eyebrows shot up. “You really do have a boner!!”
“I do not!” Nova quickly turned away from him. “Anyway, then what’s your excuse!”
“My ex--” Spider-Man looked down at himself and flushed. It seemed his own tights were a bit, well, tight, around the groin. “Hey, uh, I can totally explain.”
“I bet!” bit out Nova, “You like looking at my butt, Parker?!”
“No! I mean--only as much as you obviously like looking at mine!”
“Tch! Whatever!” Nova turned to face him fully, letting Spider-man see for himself just how aroused the young man was. “So we’re both turned on . . . so what! Now do you plan to do anything about it?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean--we gonna help each other out or what?”
“Help . . . each other . . . ?”
Nova sighed loudly, then stomped over to Spider-Man, took his hand, and placed it on his dick. Then he grabbed Peter’s rod through the skin-clinging spandex. “Help. Each other. Out.”
“Oh! Th-that kind of help!” Spider-Man squeaked out, his knees suddenly feeling weak at the pleasurable sensation he felt from Nova’s hand.
“Yeah,” Nova slid both their tights down to free their straining erections.
“I thought you ‘weren’t gay’?” Spider-Man panted as Nova got down on his knees.
“Shut up dude. This is like--youthful experimentin’,” the reckless hero said, right before he wrapped his lips around Spider-Man’s dick.
* * * * *
“Do you think they’ve really--ahh!--learned their lesson?”
“I hope so,” Powerman grunted, gripping the hips of his best buddy as the shower water sprayed down on them both. “Been really getting sick of their pranks lately.”
Iron Fist smiled, sensing the lie in his friend’s thrusts. “Really? Because it seems to me that they’ve only made you more excited.”
“Hey . . . “
The martial artist snickered. “Not that I mind.”
“Damn right . . . “ Powerman muttered, and rammed himself again into Iron Fist’s tight ass.
* * * * *
“Wow,” Spider-Man said, still half in shock. “So I guess you weakening the seams on all my costumes worked out for the best after all.”
Nova snickered, basking in the afterglow. “Yeah, I--wait, what? I told you man, I never did that!”
Spider-Man rolled over. “Hey, it already happened. You don’t need to hide it anymore--”
“But I’m serious!”
“Huh?” Spider-Man’s eyes widened. “But . . . if you didn’t, then who did?!”
Seven decks above in the security station, Deadpool gave a delighted snicker as he listened in on the two while tucking a copy of all the camera footage from the day into a pouch. “Man, as if sending Coulson and his cronies pink ballet tutus wasn’t enough, ol’ Spidey doesn’t even realize I was the one who originally messed with his tights! This whole dang Helicarrier totally just got ‘Pooled!”
I'll see you all on the next update.
When will that be?
Ummm...........bye! *Runs off*