Okay, so this is the last part of the Second Bitten Arc of this story. That is to say, I am done laying out the general background of this version of Cindy Moon's character, as well as, her relationships with her friends and family and her basic personality. So, this means that we'll get some actual plot progression next chapter, yay!
Also, I'm gonna be breaking one of the rules in story telling in this chapter, which is to "show, don't tell". In my defense, it looked better this way and felt more natural to read, not to mention some of those scenes just served to emphasize a point that's already a given for Cindy Moon; she cannot control her spider powers and struggles with living with them, at least in the beginning.
Also, we have a surprise character showing up at the end of the chapter. Just a warning, though, said scene may be on the steamy side and will really stretch this story's T rating to the limit. On the other hand, it is also an important plotline in my story and will demonstrate Cindy's complicated relationship with certain characters in the comics. So read with discretion.
That being said, enjoy the show!
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Spiders of the Same Power, Stick Together
Chapter 4: Second Bitten Part 4
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Original Universes: Marvel Cinematic Universe,
Sony's Marvel Cinematic Universe,
Fox's Marvel Cinematic Universe
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Original Concept by: Stan Lee
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Written By: K.I. Hernandez
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Cindy Moon
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Peter had spent the rest of the afternoon quizzing me on what else I could do and asking for live demonstrations of said abilities. Needless to say, Peter had been more excited than a kid locked inside Disneyland overnight. I didn't mind, though. If anything, his excitement and acceptance just drove away any lingering worries I had that I might lose my best friend over this spider-puberty.
Once the demonstrations were over, he had tested himself out to see if he could do the things that I could do. He seemed pretty disappointed that he could neither sprout out claw protrusions like some sort of spider panther nor spin webs like a regular spider, but he was able to stick to things and did seem to have the same enhanced attributes as I did, like strength and reflexes (even though the latter wasn't as good as mine) which made him feel better about the fact that he couldn't sprout claws or spin webs
All that aside, I couldn't help but feel envy for my long-time childhood friend; he was under the impression that I 'won the lottery for spider powers', but if you asked me, he was the lucky one for being more normal and less spider-like than I was. After all, people tend to alienate and shun if not outright ostracize whatever they view is different and doesn't fall under the status quo. Humans barely tolerate each other because of something trivial like different skin colors and facial features; I highly doubt they'll be all that accommodating to a teenage girl who was more spider than she was human.
That was neither here nor there, though. Envious thoughts aside, by the time Peter had to leave because it was getting dark outside and his uncle Ben will be picking him up soon, I was in a spectacularly better mood than I was all day and was no longer in danger of suffering from a nervous breakdown.
Before he left though, he had looked back at me through the window of his uncle's car and gave me a look that sent a very clear message:
Everything will be okay, Cindy.
I had my doubts about that, but they were all but brushed aside in favor of the giddy happy mood I was in because of my best friend's overall acceptance of my developing powers.
When I went to sleep that night, I felt as if I was on cloud 9, like all my worries and fears have disappeared and would never bother me again. Even if I was now spider-powered or part spider, my life will not change anymore than it already has and everything will go back to normal tomorrow morning.
When I woke up the following morning, those hopes for things to go back to normal were instantly destroyed because every inch of my room was covered in my spider webs, so much so that it looked like a swarm of giant spiders had made this place their home.
For a long moment, I just stared in wide-eyed shock at my surroundings, hoping and praying that all of it was just a dream or that I was hallucinating because of the spider-bite. When the image did not falter, I knew that all of it was real.
I also knew that I was royally screwed if any of my family chose that moment to walk into my room.
Fortunately, it hadn't taken me too long to snap myself out of my shocked stupor and to immediately get to work on cleaning my mess up.
Unfortunately, cleaning said mess was easier said than done.
I thought that cleaning my scattered webbing would be no different than cleaning up stray spider webs and cobwebs in the house. As it turns out, my webbing's tensile strength exponentially stronger and was more adhesive than a regular spider's web.
The result, every time I tried to use a feather duster or broom to sweep away the webs, the webbing would stretch and stretch, but wouldn't break and when I eventually gave up the webs had a broom, feather duster and whatever else I could get my hands on stuck in it.
A bad situation just got infinitely worse. Thank you spider powers for making my job harder than it needs to be.
I was completely stumped. I had absolutely no idea what to do now because sweeping away the webs was my first and only choice in cleaning up my unintentional mess.
I spent the next few minutes thinking about other ways to clean up my mess and I was coming up blank, but then I thought back to my little spider-to-spider talk with Peter yesterday afternoon and one particular conversation stood out in my eidetic mind.
"Can you eat your webs?" he had asked me as he held up some of my webbing.
I wrinkled my nose at him and stared at the white strands in disgust. "No, why would you even ask me that?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Some spiders actually eat their webbing, so that it would stimulate their organs to make more webs. It's kind of like recycling."
"I thought recycling was about saving the environment, not about eating bodily fluids to make more bodily fluids" I asked dryly.
At the time, I wasn't really sure whether I could do it or not, but in my defence I didn't exactly find the webs appetizing and I did not feel the urge to eat them; that's why I said no.
The way I saw it, I had two options: one, leave the mess in my room as it is until my parents find it and risk getting kicked out of the house and disowned before I could explain anything.
Or two, suck it up, dig in, and hope that the webs are edible.
The choice was obvious.
With a resigned sigh, I pulled a few strands of webbing free from the mess in my room and stared at the white strands with great reluctance. I had intended to just shove the strands into my mouth and swallow without preamble. Get it over with as soon as possible.
Luckily for me, I didn't have to because, as if sensing my intentions, the webs started slowly disappearing into my fingertips, like dust being sucked into a vacuum cleaner.
As disturbing as the sight and the implications were (and they really are disturbing if you think about it), I was just glad to have a way to clean up my mess without resorting to eating it.
So, I swept my fingers across the webs in the room and watched as my fingertips sucked in the webbing in seconds. The whole cleaning process went by smoothly and within minutes, my room was completely clean.
It's all been downhill after that point, though.
For the next 48 hours, I tried to spend my free time doing normal things inside my home, but each time I tried, my newly acquired spider powers kept getting in the way.
When I tried to get a snack from the fridge, I would rip the handle off the door. When I tried to do some homework for chemistry, all the papers would stick to my fingers like glue and when I tried pulling them off, I would just end up ripping them. When I tried to read a book, webbing would shoot out of my fingertips, covering the pages.
All in all, the two days that followed Peter's visit were two of the worst days of my life, So, when Saturday morning came and I woke up to a webbed up room, I'd say it's pretty understandable that...
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"I've had it!" I snapped angrily as I stomped around my room, cleaning up the mess of webbing scattered around it for the third times this week.
Part of me knew that I should be quiet, so I don't wake up the rest of my family, but the rest of me just didn't care and was grasping at some sort of outlet for all my pent up frustrations.
I didn't bother with a shower because I know for a fact that in my mood, I'd probably break my entire bathroom in the process. I just threw on the closest clothes I could get my hands on (a white tank top, a black hoodie, jeans and black sneakers), grabbed my brown travel pack, and made my way downstairs with every intention of leaving the house as soon as possible, not even bothering to lessen my speed.
Right now, I was just focused on getting out of the house ASAP.
I was about to bolt down the staircase, one foot already raised to take the first step, when an all-too familiar voice stopped me.
"Where are you heading off to, so early in the morning?"
Ugh, was it really too much to ask for at least one thing to go my way this week? And of all the people who could've caught me leaving the house it had to be my mother? Seriously? I'm really starting to think that infamous "Parker luck" Pete's always raving about is real because I think it's rubbing off on me.
I suppressed a groan, but I couldn't quite wipe the frustrated scowl marring my face, so I avoided looking at directly at Mom. I did sneak a peek at her out of the corner of my left eye though.
She was standing in front of the door to the master's bedroom that she shared with Dad, her hair was dishevelled, she wore only a white bathrobe, her eyes were droopy, and she had a frown on her face. My mother had never really been a morning person and I just cut her beauty sleep short because of my frustrated outburst in my room.
The two moon women sharing the same space while both had a short fuse that was getting shorter with each passing second.
That never ended well, either for only one of us or both of us, seeing as that we've been at each other's necks since she discovered my eidetic memory when I was five.
"Well, Cindy?" I heard my Mom prompt as she crossed her arms.
I gritted my teeth as my frustration slowly began to bubble up inside me. I hated how condescending her tone sounded. I am gonna be a legal adult in 3 years time she can't talk down to me like this anymore.
I took a few deep breaths and once I was sure that I wasn't going to snap, I replied.
"I'm just going out to get some fresh air, Mom. My room was getting a little stuffy, since I've been stuck in there for the past two days."
Please just accept the excuse and let me leave.
"You should be resting"
Damn it.
Okay, just keep calm, Cindy. Mom just pointed something out matter-of-factly, that's nothing to blow a gasket over. You can handle this like the civilized young woman that you are. I reasoned with myself as I took a few deep breaths to calm myself.
"I know that, Mom" I conceded and I was about to continue, but Mom cut me off.
"Then why are you trying to sneak out of the house?"
"Okay, first off, that's an exaggeration and second off, I had just told you that it was getting stuffy in my room, which is why I wanted to get out of the house."
"If you're feeling well enough to leave the house, then you should feel well enough to catch up on all the lessons you missed out for these last two days of school"
"And whose fault is that, huh?" I finally sniped back as I turned to her with a heated glare that she returned. "I already told you in the car that I was fine, but you didn't listen, so what did I do?" I asked rhetorically.
"I listened and did as you asked like a good little girl and stayed home for the next two days, even though it practically drove me crazy to be stuffed in here for so long doing nothing, getting rest that wasn't necessary and now all of a sudden it's my fault that I missed two days of school?"
As angry as I was, I enough sense not to mention the fact that I have been attempting to study for the last two days, but I was always thwarted by inconvenient spider powers.
My mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, it doesn't matter whose fault it is"
I snorted in disbelief.
Mom just continued and ignored me. "What matters is that you have missed two days worth of lessons that you're going to have to catch up on, lessons that you would need to know, so that you'll be able to keep up with the rest in your class when you go back to school on Monday. You should use the next two days to study what you missed"
Great, just what I needed right now. Mom telling me what I need to do.
"What you think I should do and what I think I should do are two very different things"
"If you would use your gift wisely, then they wouldn't be so different"
"I didn't realize having an eidetic memory forfeits my right to live my life the way I want to"
"You're a teenager; you don't know what you want." And now we're back to being a condescending stick in the mud. "And if you would just stop being so immature about this you would know that the best thing for you to do is-"
"To do what? To spend the rest of my life being your little play thing, a puppet that you can order around and will do whatever you say without question or complaint?" I countered angrily as the pressure in my chest started to rise even more, so much so that it felt it was gonna burst any minute now. "I'm the one with a good memory and I'm gonna use that 'gift' in any way I damn well please"
"So, you basically want to squander your gift by spending the rest of your life wearing glorified swimsuits, being eye candy and performing tricks like some show-dog"
Okay, that one was low and did she seriously just call me a bitch and a hooker.
"It's called gymnastics, Mom" I bit out through gritted teeth as I tried desperately not to lose my temper. "And it doesn't make strippers for strip clubs, it makes athletes that possess a plethora of different skills and conditions the human body to perform beyond its limits"
"It's a waste of you time, gift, effort and money is what it is"
Deep breaths, Cindy, deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth.
"Nari? Cindy? Why are you two shouting at each other so early in the morning? I could hear your voices through the door?" Dad walked out of the room, wearing his glasses and looking like sleep was still on the forefront of his mind.
"Simple, Albert, our daughter here thought that it would be a good idea to spend the entire weekend doing who knows what, instead of studying the last two days of lessons from school-"
"-That I missed because you kept insisting that I take time to rest, even though I didn't need it and I wasn't sneaking out. I just wanted to go and get some fresh air, since I've been trapped in this house for two whole hours."
With our pieces said, we resumed glaring at each other, while Dad heaved a big sigh and rubbed his face with both hands, muttering about how it was too early in the morning for this.
Whenever Mom and I got into these little disagreements of ours, Dad has always served as the voice of reason of sorts and as far as I could remember when he was there to mediate our fights, he always comes up with a compromise that both Mom and I could live with.
When he wasn't around to mediate our fights, however, Mom and I usually end up storming away from each other, both of use being too stubborn to come up with our own compromise.
Poor Dad, he had just got up out of bed and hasn't even had his morning coffee yet, but is now expected to come up with a diplomatic compromise.
I do not envy him one bit. Feel sorry for him? Yes. Envy him? Hell no!
Mom and I were still glaring at each other, when Dad finally spoke up.
"Nari, why don't you just let Cindy go outside for a bit"
HA! I win!
Mom immediately turned her heated glare on Dad and I let a victorious smirk spread across my face, feeling especially smug and vindictive right now.
Dad raised his hands defensively at Mom's glare. "Nari, studying won't do our daughter any good, if she isn't in the mood to do so, even if she has an eidetic memory."
Admittedly, I am a bit of a daddy's girl, but when you're mother is such a control freak who tries to dictate how you should spend every waking second of your life, it's kind of inevitable.
"So, why don't you just let her go outside and let her roam around a bit? Think of it like a warm up before an exercise. If she does this, then she could study a lot more efficiently and her brain will be more receptive to new information."
Have I mentioned how much I love my father? Because I do. I really love my daddy, especially right now.
I watched as Mom sighed and pinched her nose and I immediately turned back to the stairs with my chin held high, a victorious grin spreading across my face and a skip to my step. I was on cloud nine right now and it'll be awhile before I come back down.
These things have happened so much by now that I know for a fact that this is Mom's way of conceding to Dad and admitting def-
"Cindy, go to your room."
What?
My leg stood frozen in mid-air, still poised to take the next step down the stairs; the first step towards outside, fresh air and freedom. My body is frozen on the spot, those five words echoing around in my head like an endless echo.
Cindy, go to your room.
Cindy, go to your room.
Cindy, go to your room.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This is not how this scenario is supposed to play out. Mom is supposed to go back to her room tiredly and conceding defeat, while I made my merry way outside to calm myself down. Mom wasn't supposed to tell me to my room, she's supposed to concede to Dad; the fact that she didn't back down like she always did before left me more than a little numb.
I heard Dad sigh, but it sounded really distant, muffled and a bit fuzzy, too.
"Nari-"
"No, Albert, we've spoiled Cindy for long enough. It's time she starts thinking about her future by focusing on her education and intelligence, not tights and flips."
Spoiled? When have they ever spoiled me?! I had to pay for my gymnastics classes out of my own pocket, including whatever equipment I needed to get. It's true that they used to take me on trips to Seoul to visit my Aunt and cousins every summer, but those trips stopped when I was five years old and Mom discovered that I had an eidetic memory. After that, the money that was supposed to be spent on the trip to South Korea was spent on advanced classes and summer camps that specialized on gifted kids, two things that I resented. When have they ever spoiled me?!
And just like that, my body thawed from its frozen state of shock, replaced by emotions that I had come to expect whenever Mom and I had our disagreements. Fire raced through my veins, heating up my body like a furnace.
I could feel my breath quickening to rage-filled panting.
I could feel my hands tightening into fists that were ready to strike at the next thing that moves.
I could feel my body trembling with pressure like an overloaded boiler machine, ready to explode at a moment's notice.
Rage, Fury, Anger, and Outrage, I've become intimately acquainted with these emotions since I was five years old, the willingness to act on them even more so. Right now, my mind and body was primed and ready for a release, a way to vent out all this rage and fury in a way that teenagers like me can't seem to avoid.
But even in my rage-induced frame of mind, I knew that I couldn't do what I so desperately wanted at the moment, to vent. I had superpowers now, if I were to throw one of my teenage tantrums right now I could quite literally bring the house down, as well as, break every bone in my parents' bodies like toothpicks.
I didn't want that to happen. We may have our moments where we didn't see eye to eye, but they were still my family.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down, another thing that I had gotten used to doing over the past decade.
But my body did not calm down, if anything I only felt the sensations escalate further and worsen. It was as if my body did not want to calm down. My body was primed for a fight, looking for an outlet for all the frustration and anger and now that it had reached this point, there was no going back.
I felt like my body and my conscious mind were now detached from each other, like one had little to no influence on the other.
I felt myself panic, this hasn't happened before, my anger had never been this intense and my enhanced abilities only made matters worse. I couldn't stop my rage from building up nor could I calm it down, so that only left one option: aim it away from my family.
I needed to get out.
So I did.
I sprinted down the stairs, taking them two at a time and ignored the calls of my name from upstairs. I sprinted across the room towards the main door and nearly tore it off its hinges when I flung it open, but I didn't stop nor did I look back to my house, I didn't know where I running to and I didn't particularly care at the moment, all that I cared about was that I got as far away my family as possible without leaving the state.
As I kept running, I slowly came to my senses. Granted, it was still not enough to calm down, just enough to aim the anger better. All this running was good for venting out anger apparently; not by much, but just enough for me to think straight.
That being said, I knew that I had to find a better outlet than running, specifically an outlet that required me to hit things.
Yes, hitting things was a definite must. I just needed to find some place where no one would mind if anything got destroyed...like a junkyard.
Destination in mind, I steered my body towards a very familiar direction, weaving myself through obstacles on the streets without pausing or slowing down. As fast as my legs were carrying me, it still wasn't fast enough. I needed to get to the junkyard before I snapped and let loose.
Spotting an alley ahead, I ran inside and as soon I was safe from prying eyes, I jumped as high as I could, clearing the three stories with ease before latching onto the side of the building with my hands and feet and crawled up the wall as fast as I could. I shot two weblines and flung myself up to the rooftop.
I barely paused when I landed just kept on sprinting until I reached the edge and leapt to the adjacent rooftop, clearing the gap with ease.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I jumped from one rooftop to another with a mixed combination of my gymnastics training and some parkour moves I learned by watching videos on the internet.
One of the very few good things with having an eidetic memory: You can learn almost any skill just by watching it.
A few minutes into my adrenaline-fueled free run, I realized that I was gradually letting out some steam, though not enough to calm me down completely, so it was probably best to get to the junkyard as soon as possible because the last thing New York wanted was another enhanced individual going on a rage-induced rampage through the city.
After all, some people in high places still haven't forgiven the Hulk for what happened in Harlem, even after he saved the world a few years ago.
I did not want to find out what they would do if they ever labeled me as the next "Hulk".
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Peter had always been a dumpster diver and with him having very little sense of self-preservation and even less sense of danger, I almost always came with him on his "excursions" just to make sure that he didn't get hurt. Say what you will about junkyards and dumpsters, but you really will find the most unexpected things in them and after I found a fully-functioning, semi-automatic rifle underneath one of the dumpsters, I had made sure that I always tagged along with him, wherever and whenever it was.
Having said that, my eidetic memory allowed me pick up a few details that have made said excursions go more smoothly. They were just minor detail, though, like where the exit was, so we didn't get lost or where we'll find the most loot.
More importantly, it helped me remember key details like the fact that the junkyard closed at five in the afternoon, so if we weren't out by then, we would be locked in.
Also, that the junkyard was only open on weekdays. Unfortunately, that little tidbit only occured to me when I was right in front of the locked wire fence gate with a sign that said "CLOSED" hanging at the center.
Normally, I would've just walked away from something like this.
Now though? I couldn't care less about a pair of closed gates that I could easily rip through like tissue paper because I needed to vent and I needed to vent now.
I thrusted my hands forward, fingers sliding between the gates. It barely tickled.
I gripped the edges and took a deep breath, before I pulled my hands back with all my strength. The gates swung open with a few squeaks, the flimsy chain and lock barely putting up a fight.
I giggled in relief.
That felt good.
It wasn't enough, though. I needed to vent some more.
I ran straight in, ignoring the putrid smell of rotting food, rusted metal, and filthy rats overehelming my sense. I opted to ignore all the useless piles of junk that surrounded me, they wouldn't be enough to vent my anger on.
There was only one section of this junkyard that could do the trick, the area where they demolished broken down cars.
It took almost no time at all for me to get there and as soon as the first car was in sight, I jumped as high as I could, closing the distance between me and the car with ease. I fired two weblines on either side of the car and with an almighty pull, sent myself rocketing towards the broken car feet first.
My feet crashed into the hood, flattening it with so much force that the trunk rose up, before falling back.
I let myself loose. I let myself feel the anger that I tried so hard to suppress earlier; anger at my mother being such a control, anger at these powers for making my life so hard for the past two days, outrage at being treated like a puppet on a string.
Fire coursed through my veins, heating up my body like a furnace, my heart pounded in my ears and my breathing came in furious pants, and my hands curled into tight fists as pressure began to build up in my chest painfully, and like a rubberband that's been stretched too far, I snapped.
"ARGH!" I shouted out as I brough both my hands down at the roof of the car, caving it in. I buried my fingers into the dented roof and pulled it clean off the car before ripping it half, as if it were a piece of paper.
Holding both halves of what was once a car roof in my hands, I brought them down on the car seats again and again, ripping them to shreds while I shrieked like an enraged banshee.
At that point, I just lost it. I punched, I kicked, I slammed things down, I threw them away with my webs and I ripped them in half. I didn't care how much damage I was doing, just that I was doing damage in the first place. There was an anger in me; a thirst for violence that needed to be quenched. I let myself feel the full extent of my anger now, so much so that I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. All I could hear was the sound of my drumming heart and metal being rended and torn like as my body looked for a new target after the last one was destroyed. It didn't matter what it was, all that mattered was that I could destroy it without anyone consequences and even that was a minor concern at this point.
This anger was different, it wasn't stemming from teenage hormones that refused to be told what to do, this was more feral, animalistic, savage; it was the kind that I've only seen on those nature documentaries about large predators and how they killed their prey.
The implications of that idea alone; the thought of becoming more animal than human, losing my capacity for complex thought, my sentience, and being reduced to a creature that is completely governed and commanded solely by its instincts, was absolutely terrifying. The fact that I couldn't control the rage-indufed frenzy that I'm in right now only made that possibility all the more likely to happen.
Now more than ever, I wished that damn spider hadn't bitten me.
I was so lost in my rage that I had absolutely no sense of time. I have no idea how long I've been tearing up old cars in the junkyard, but I do know that by the time I felt my rage fade away enough for me to start thinking rationally, I was bent over with my hands resting on my knees, panting and sweating heavily while I was surrounded by rended and torn pieces of metal and shattered pieces of glass in piles that were as high as I was tall.
Needless, to say, I did quite a number on this place. Not that anyone would care, these cars were set to be demolished anyway. As far as I'm concerned I just made things easier for the poor shmuck who had that job.
"Cin? Is that you?"
I groaned out loud because of course, Peter was here, too. Why can't anything ever go my way for once?! The last thing I want to do is snap at my best friend.
I heard his footsteps grow louder as he grew closer and all of a sudden he took a sharp intake of breath and held it in his lungs.
I don't blame him for being shocked. Seeing his best friend in the middle of all this destruction was probably the last thing he expected to see when he came to the junkyard.
Speaking of which...
"Hey, Pete" I greeted with a lazy wave of my hand. "You here for another one of your dumpster dives?"
It took about a minute for him to compose himself, but he finally managed a reply. "um...yeah, actually. I've been texting you all morning, I thought maybe our new powers could help us find things that we may have missed before."
I snorted and shook my head. "Pete, anything buried under something so heavy that we'll need to use our super strength to move it will not be working anytime soon"
"Okay, you definitely have a point there, but we could still use our enhanced senses to look around and maybe we'll find something we can salvage"
"Worth a try" I said with a shrug, before continuing as I kicked at some of the scrap at my feet. "I'd recommend going to some other part of the junkyard, though. You won't find anything here other than scraps of metal and shards of glass"
Peter looked at the pile and winced. "Bad day?" He asked unnecessarily.
"Days. Plural." I corrected, before looking down at the pile. "I just needed to let out some steam and this seemed like the best place to do it. Don't worry, though. I'm...75% sure that I only destroyed old rusted cars and no innocent electronics fell victim to my rampage."
Actually, it was more like zero percent, but he didn't need to know that.
Peter snorted out a chuckle and I let out a tired one in return. We stayed silent for a few seconds, before he spoke up.
"You wanna talk about it?"
A single eyebrow rose up warningly. "Are you sure you want to open up that can of worms?"
He held his hands up in defense. "I am not volunteering to be your punching bag, if that's what you're thinking..." He paused before continuing. "Unless that's what you need right now, because if it is then I'm sure I can take a few hits"
I glared at him in irritation. "That's not what I meant, Pete." I was still a bit angry, sure, but I wasn't going to take it out on my best friend. "You've seen how I get when I have bad days before. Do you really want to deal with that now, with me being spider-powered?"
He just shrugged and smiled. "Friends stay together till the end, right?"
I smiled back, albeit thinly and more reserved. Peter had always believed that and always followed through on that belief, but part of me couldn't help but question until when would he stay by my side; how much of my arachnid side-effects would he we be able to overlook and shrug off before he forgets that decade old belief of his and abandons me?
Earlier thoughts and worries about my possibly becoming a mindless rampaging spider creature came to the forefront of my mind, quickly followed by the image of my relentless rampage throughout the junkyard and the aftermath of said rampage.
I had my answer.
If I didn't get rid of these powers soon or at the very least get the under control, it was only a matter of time before I lose my best friend.
Making sure that nothing betrayed my troubled thoughts, I replied evenly. "Maybe some other time, Pete. Honestly, I'm just completely spent at this point and all I want to do is sleep the day away"
That was a lie. Sure, I was tired now, but I could already feel my body recovering. Apparently, superhuman stamina comes with the whole spider-power package.
Thankfully, Peter nods his head in acceptance. "Okay, yeah that's understandable, but I'm right here if you need me, okay?"
For how long? I thought sadly.
Outwardly, I gave another small smile as I picked up my bag and took out my phone to check the time.
It was 12:45 in the afternoon.
I've been rampaging for more than five hours straight.
And I also had fifteen minutes to get to my gymnastics class.
This day just keeps getting better and better.
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It took me around ten minutes to get to the gym for my gymnastics lesson, using a combination of parkour, wall-crawling and web-swinging. So, by the time, I got there I still had five minutes to change into my long-sleeved white leotard, which I had apparently not taken out since last week's class. That's when a new problem presented itself.
You see, a gymnasts leotards are designed to minimize drag and allow free movement, which is why they were so form-fitting and stretchy. The problem is that while my old leotards were a perfect fit for my old body.
They were practically suffocating me in my new one, particularly in the chest area.
I stared at my white clad form in the full-length mirror as I tied my hair up, feeling very self-conscious and resisting the urge to fidget.
It wasn't really all that uncomfortable to wear per se, at least not physically. The material did stretch and while it would take some time, I would get used to moving while wearing it, not to mention the material would adjust to the new size as well.
What I do have a problem with, is my white uniform accentuating each and every curve on my body like a second skin, more specifically the kind of attention it would garner, particularly from a certain silver-haired-
"I've gotta hand it to you, Cindy. Puberty looks good on you"
I let out a sigh that was equal parts exasperated and resigned, before I finished tying my hair up and turned around to face the source of the all too seductive and oh so familiar purring voice.
Glistening silver-white hair fell in waves around creamy white skin that disappeared underneath a long-sleeved black leotard, accentuating a voluptuous body that far surpassed my own like a second skin, smooth and toned legs that stretched on forever, bubble gum pink lips danced with a seductive smile and emerald green eyes twinkled mischievously on a heart-shaped face that looked no older than 18.
This is Felicia Hardy, she's been attending this class for two years now and probably the best gymnast here in Queens, maybe even New York. She just turned 18 last month and moved out of the house she shared with her mother at the same time. From what she's told me, she lives in a pent house suite. How she pays for that, I have no idea and she never gives me a straight answer.
Why do I know all of this? Simple, she tells me.
Why does she tell me? That's simple, too.
She's a lesbian or at least bisexual and she's had her eyes on me since I first started going to gymnastics class a year ago.
"Not as good as it does on you, though, Felicia" I quipped half-heartedly.
"I wouldn't say that" Felicia purred out before stepping closer to my personal space.
Her touch was feather-light as she traces a finger up and down my fabric-clad waist as she continued. "You're still a growing, after all."
Her other hand then snaked behind my waist and pulled me tight against her body. I had to bite back a gasp as she slowly started grinding against me.
She leaned her head down right next to my ear and cooed as she continued her ministrations. "Mmm...yup, definitely still growing."
The hand that's been tracing my waist suddenly went up to cup and fondle my breast gently. This time I did let out a gasp, as well as, a whimper.
"Felicia..." I gasped out as my heart started beating faster. "...now might not be a good time, I-" I gasped again as her lips started sucking on my neck.
I swallowed a few times and tried to take my mind off her gentle ministrations before speaking up again. "Felicia, I...um...I've been having a rough day, so..."
"All the more reason for you to relax and unwind" Felicia purred seductively.
"Felicia-"
"Let me guess, you and mother dearest not seeing eye to eye on what you want to do with your life, so you stormed out of the house and now you more or less have nowhere to go." Felicia stated as she pulled back to look me in the eye.
I've gotten used to Felicia knowing what's wrong with my life a long time ago, so I just shrugged. "More or less"
"Mhm..." Felicia hummed and nodded, her hands still continuing their ministrations. "you know you could always stay with me, right? Get away from your Mom's controlling ways for a little while?"
I wasn't solely lesbian, but I wasn't completely straight either, given how much I enjoyed Felicia's touches and our little...sessions. Say what you want, but I'm a teenage girl with needs, ones that are not being satisfied, since my tight schedule and control freak of a mother did not allow a romantic relationship where I was involved.
Was I in a relationship with Felicia Hardy? No.
Was I in love with Felicia Hardy? No.
Were we friends with benefits? Yes.
Did I mind? No.
Did I enjoy it? Yes, especially when Felicia is involved.
And in this particular moment, I really wanted to spend most of my time with Felicia, doing exactly what we were doing now.
"You know, I might just take you up on that offer."
.
.
And with that, Cindy's web of relationships just got even more complicated than it already was.
Okay, so just so we're all clear. Cindy is not in a relationship with Felicia Hardy. They are more or less friends with benefits, no romantic relationship whatsoever and they have not had sex! Just fooled around. You know make out, grope, grind etc.
Also, in the Silk comics, Cindy's complex relationship with her family, Peter Parker, and Black Cat are one of her more notable aspects in her story, so I thought I'd focus on that in this chapter.
Anyways, what do you guys think? Let me know in the reviews section below and if you like this story, then feel free to hit that follow or favorite button.
Farewell for now - K.I. Hernandez