Peter closed his eyes, thinking of his life so far.
There was a slow steady rain, pattering just outside the bedroom window that became distorted and blurred as his sight got split from his mind, the wind almost laughing from outside with a cold, ghostly air so undeniable it became very eerie. That breeze would cast shadows to move across the closed window, common fall sight in New York-smoke, leaves, dew and biting chills.
Contemplating it all made his aches less unbearable. While his long-honed endurance for pain didn't compare to this ordeal. There was a long wooden bed, he was flat on it, both hands tied with straps on the frame and legs bound too. While they weren't effective, the intoxicant inside him kept him totally paralyzed
Peter would be in the kitchen relating his day with his aunt and uncle jovially. Their home so alive with hearty laughter, and familiar home baked smells and surroundings that put one's mind at ease.
Pain crept inside him, itching so relentlessly, like fire ants pinching into his flesh.
Back home he'd be alone, safe from harm. A regular Friday after school, just him and his inventions, breathing in the aroma of Aunt May's signature apple pie, newly ordered books from Amazon and NYC evening life outside.
Back home there wouldn't be the stench of boxers, of semen, the bleach-smelling taste staining his lips, filling his mouth when he nearly gagged. The power of an unknown force coursing inside him, drilling into him, pulling out of him, before his last wall broke down, claimed, no longer virgin Peter Parker but a new person, a full adult, one without innocence, naivete or sanctity.
Here he was, in this room! Keeping hope nobody would hurt him, no evil was going to corrupt him, yet his inner mental resilience couldn't shut away the realization of what his body was experiencing and what was still in store.
He thought he'd be eaten alive here...