Change of Plans Part 1

During the beginning of Miles Morales's character many speculated he'd be a pole-smoker or, to be more politically correct, fruity. Your red flag is Bleached, not blacked.

The past… wasn't how she remembered it. Everything was simpler. Not simple like clean though, the air was actually dirtier than it was in 2099. simple like… lame and lazy. The Manhattan she remembered had been fairly dark, industrial, and neon all the time. 12am in this Manhattan was tame in comparison. It was Pittsburgh in comparison. Felicia hated Pittsburgh.

The New York of 2099 was actually gone. She spared a moment of silence for her home. Then she brought her wrist up. A little figure popped up like he was standing on the back of her hand. Dark brown hair, suave jacket, dark eyes. He was older, but still as handsome as she remembered him. This wasn't him though. This wasn't her Spider. Just some AI he made for her last minute birthday present.

Felicia flipped him off. "The coordinates were wrong, you fuck," she said like it was his fault.

"I told you it probably would be," the AI Peter said. Age had made Peter's voice deeper, and at… shit, she forgot how old he was. How old she was, but that had been on purpose. He had to be north of 70. He had looked like a DILF. Since he didn't exist she figured he'd be closer to the invisible man.

Felicia shook her head. He was gone now. Probably should have made himself ageless like he made her. Sure, he had to scrap her old body, clone her a new one, but it came with perks. She was a walking, talking, human-android-computer what-the-fuck, and that was pretty sweet for her thirty-fifth birthday present. She'd blown a gasket thinking she got her first old lady hairs. Wasn't until later Peter, in between his meetings (like always), told her it was just her regular hair. Felicia swore there was a difference. It was crinkly and brittle.

There was. It was the patch where his semen had dried on her regular hair. So, he was technically right.

"My past self and Miguel O'Hara altered the timeline since before I was born," the AI said. "You're smart, Felicia. Do the math."

"Fuck you." She didn't like talking to the AI because it was just an imitation. "I'm a computer, or something. I'm as smart as I want to be."

"You're stubborn."

"Same thing. Anyway, when was he born again? … '63? 1963? That'd make us- god, we'd be ancient." Her hands went to her hair. "What do I even look like here?! I'm old!"

"I was born in-"

"Please, we're not talking about you," she said flatly. "We're talking about me. You're 1 year, 4 months, 7 days, 13 hours old," she reported, having recorded Peter gifting her… little Peter. She'd wanted big Peter, but he was busy with another meeting while his schlong was meeting and excavating the greedy asshole of one of Felicia's bluenette clones. The vapid Bitch hadn't even invited her.

"Regardless, my counterpart-"

"His counterpart."

"Made it so that Walker Sloan never went back in time to start Alchemax during the 1970s. In doing so he altered my childhood, and thus the city, and world, as a whole."

She remembered the lessons on the butterfly effect Peter had given her. While she could just look it up on her OSR (on-board requisitions), she preferred to remember it. That took less than a thousandth of a second. "I hate time-travel. Hated it when I was 20, and I hate it now."

"You first time traveled when you were 28."

"I felt like 20 so shut up."

She looked around at the city. Felicia was in Times Square now, but it was nothing like she remembered it. Sure, it was less crowded, maybe more residential and good for the family, but Times Square in 2099 had been a hotspot for excitement if your name was Felicia Hardy. When you're a human-whatever, the best place to go was to the center of the competition's info grid and sift through their dirty little secrets.

She tapped into the Wi-fi. She really was in the past. Feliciatraced every connection back to the computers and devices connected to it. "That is a lot porn. Some things never change."

The AI sounded bored. "What kind, Felicia?"

"The boring kind."

"You're not here to look at porn, Felicia."

She pouted. "I know what I'm here for. To get my ass pounded."

The AI acted like it didn't hear her. Damn smart-ass artificial intelligences. "You're here to change the present, in the year 20-"

Felicia finished for him and her logistics doing a perfect 8 before she broke the cycle. "You mean the future."

"The future as it pertains to now, yes. But our present." The damn thing was no fun.

"Unhgggg. Why though? The future was nice! This is… boring. And peaceful. And boring!"

"Things could have been done better in 2099. I die there."

Her systems hiccuped. The problem with being a human whatever was that her emotions could glitch her systems. Felicia wasn't an android or a robot, she rode the line between AI, human, and wireless signal while being right on top of sexpot, like always.

She never bothered to listen to Peter explain what she actually was because every time he explained it was less time he spent working and more time they spent together. Said that she didn't bother recording it, but always lied. She was trying to get him away from work. Away from 'great opportunity'.

Felicia accessed the very first time he explained it to her. Her systems could process it in nil-time flat and she played it over and over again. Peter said she was a Wi-AI, a Wireless Actualized Intelligence. Better than the original. One hell of a kind. Felicia Hardy 2.0. Best girl was implied.

Her official designation as Alchemax property was the Wi-AI. Peter called her the "Why I oughta!" It was one of the few jokes he ever told anymore.

His great opportunity had been the chance to ream her ass everyday like it was the end of the world. Her old ass wasn't bad, shit, it was phenomenal, but Felicia's new chute was the top of the line when it came to cock-wringing semen dumps. And there were a lot in 2099.

The Alchemax head office was based in old New York where everyone fucked more and wore less. That was all they could afford, so people got a lot of experience. For guys and girls prostitution became less a career choice and more of a barter system. That necessitated the invention of body-mods that kept 'em tight and made it easy to fetch customers to the point that a weird androgyny was the norm.

She'd only ever been for Peter, though. His personal little sextoy and like hell he was going to share. Like hell Felicia was going to bend over for anyone else either. Unless they were a tongue and she'd just gotten creamed and they felt like having some milk with her. With her squad of bluenettes though no one else was needed. Sadly, her ass had only been fucked, at maximum, six times a week and five times a day. Unacceptable.

"He died because he worked too hard. The version of him here remembered what it's like to have fun," she said bitterly. "I don't think being in charge of the universe would be fun. People make religions of you and rules and kill. Bit of a buzzkill."

"My counterpart was being smarter than I was. He thought with his head," the AI said. "I thought with my heart."

"You thought with a broken heart!" She snapped, systems glitching. "I begged you over and over again to take a break."

She piggy-backed onto the strongest wi-fi signal, integrated an app to her systems (took her a second to remember what youtube was), and brought up a song that her systems categorized as fucking on point. That wasn't what Peter had designed it to say but he knew she would put her own spin on it.

"Take a Break," was the name of the song. Her systems said it hadn't existed in her timeline because the composer of the entire Hamilton play hadn't even been born in her timeline.

It was actually too on point, so she deleted it from her systems. "You should have listened to me."

"I should have," the AI said. "You're here to make sure I do."

A bonus of being a Wi-AI was that she could control her human emotions. She couldn't shut them off ever, Peter said that'd be… bad. She could see why. Didn't want to turn into an autonomous vegetable. Or a Terminator. Felicia made herself perky again. She brought up something romantic and dear to her heart.

Taking Peter's peter up the ass while the same greedy bluenette clone watched from beneath them, webbed to the ground and scrambling to slurp up whatever she could with a cum-dripping asshole. All the under the table beej's she'd been present to made her think that she was the Bitch out of all of the sub Wi-AIs. She forgot that Felicia was The Bitch and that she was the little bitch.

"First things first," she said, cracking her knuckles. Physical pixels flew thru the air like sparks. "Me, my ass, and some good pain in the morning."

The AI rubbed his temple. Peter did that a lot when he was around her, smiled while he did it. This was the most human thing the AI could do that she'd seen. "Is that really necessary?"

"What else would I possibly do?" She asked mock-innocently. "Hunt down everyone related to Walker Sloan and prevent him from being born so he can't go back in time to alter this timeline so my timeline will be made when O'Hara tries to fix it all?"

"Yes," the AI said.

"Well that'd be boring. I have a plan of my own. It involves draining Spider's balls so much that by the time he's supposed to come into contact with Sloan's ancestor and save her life. He'll be knocked out cold."

The AI was already going through records in its background processes. "Liz Allen was a friend of his in this timeline."

Felicia programmed her teeth to be sharper than razors. "Not for long."

"I said was."

Felicia didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"Did you notice that nearly everyone in has access to high-speed internet?"

"Yeah, so? That's normal-" her systems did a routine background check for any changes and then she noticed. It was a big one too. If she paid more attention to being a walking computer she would have noticed. "Oh."

"Yes, that was the norm in the future."

Felicia was reading every article and its discrepancy. "Uncle Ben Foundation? The hell?" In 2099 Peter wouldn't have even entertained shit like that. "Parker Industries." The seeds of what Peter had made Alchemax were there, just under a different name and… more philanthropic. She forgot how much of a boy-scout he used to be.

"Parker Industries didn't exist during this time period, before or after Sloan altered the timeline. It is a rival company of Alchemax now, the CEO of which is Liz Allen."

"Alchemax didn't exist during this time either. So, what, are we in the wrong place?" She asked. "Is Spider-Man going to be gay and have a collection of fuckbois?" She could deal. Give herself a prostate and turn myself into a little trappy twink for every guy with bent heterosexuality, She drooled a tiny bit.

"I can deal with that. Screw around a little before we go. Uh, the Fantastic Four exist here right?"

"We're in the right place. We were just beaten to the punch. Our timeline wasn't the only one altered."

"We got the first ride out of there! How the fuck- are you telling me that the timeline we were supposed to go to… was changed while we were on our way?!" The AI nodded. She inhaled. "I fucking hate time-travel."

"I'm accessing the archives of Stark and some others now… Seems like we're not the only universe to-"

"Stop right there, AI scum. I don't even want to know."

"The differences are mostly contained. There's a noticeable one."

"And what's that?"

The AI requested access to her systems and, seeing no reason not to accept it, brought up a picture in front of her. In the dark it lit up the entire rooftop but only had a resolution of 2K. It was a picture of Peter in a very different suit with another, smaller Spider-Man, in a black and red suit.

"Who is this?" She looked at the AI flatly.

"According to my personal, 'in-dev AI' titled 'Old Ben'," the both took a moment to let that hang.

"Star Wars? He hates Star Wars."

"Obviously in this timeline I'm an idiot. That is Miles Morales. Spider-Man."

"Junior. Okay, so a side effect of altering the timeline got Peter a sidekick and loves playing with lightsabers. Big deal." She wondered if he was getting royalties yet. "Why should I care?"

The AI gave her a look Peter gave her a lot. It said that she might be as smart as she wanted to be, but he was usually smarter. Usually meant always, and it always made her want to jump his bones. "Well," the AI said, "my counterpart seems to trust Mr. Morales enough to allocate some data space for him."

Felicia was getting impatient. "Yes, and?"

"You wondered about the sexual orientation of the Spider-Man of this world." He turned the findings over to her systems. Felicia barely had enough sense to accept the transfer request.

"That… is a lot of porn." She scrolled through Miles's personal, encrypted library. It was secure, but not for an AI who was essentially like water though the tiniest cracks. Felicia raised her eyebrows. "Oh! A lot of gay porn!"

She scrolled some more. She blinked. "And a lot of pictures of Spider-Man." She opened one folder titled 'Art Class' and started to grin while bringing up records related to Miles Morales in the background. African-American, smarter than an inner city kid normally would be, and Peter paid for his art classes.

So, Miles was his protégé. The boy had had talent with a capital T. What Peter didn't know was that it nearly all of it was M rated with a capital Porn. Of Miles. And him.

"Well, we know what team this kid is on. The face down ass up while he gets railed team. Guess there's a reason why he doesn't call himself something stupid like Kid-Arachnid. Boy's a fan."

She looked from the files, making sure to copy every one of them. She grinned. "Change of plans."