Ultimate Comics: The Bangers

"Don't worry, Carol, I'm going to get you out of here. It's just gonna take me a second."

The shelves were laden with heavy SHIELD armament: sabot rounds, laser cells, warheads, all meant for air-to-ground or ship-to-ship combat. The stuff you had to be a Level 4 'Strongman' to even operate. None of it had landed on her—small favors—but it pressed in on her enough to hold her paralysis-still. Peter moved it tons at a time, even as the deluge rushed in. He set it aside in great rushes that dented the floor, detonated huge explosions of sea foam. Until she was uncovered.

He checked her over for injuries—a little thoroughly for her liking—and splinted her broken leg with some quick webbing. Then he picked her up, encouraging her to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Don't worry. You're safe now."

***

X-Men, report.

Xavier sat calmly in his office, receiving the mental input of Jean and the other X-Men. With their controversial standing in the intelligence community, they weren't assisting in the evacuation of the Helicarrier, but they were taking the strain off the recovery efforts by tamping down the criminal activity. Already, three of the Sinister Six who'd broken out of the Triskelion were in custody, thanks to Wolverine and Storm. Iceman was working closely with Johnny Storm of the Fantastic Four quell a riot.

It would be important to establish that mutants had been there, on day one, helping the relief effort. It would deflate the inevitable revelation that Magneto was responsible.

Xavier just didn't know why. Erik had always been capable of this wanton destruction, but what did he have to gain? Nothing. And the man never did anything without a purpose.

Unless... unless there was something more. Something bigger in the offing. And this was only...

"A distraction," he said, looking up to the familiar void in the collective unconscious. Magneto's shielded thoughts in the black hole of his helmet. That's what he'd become to Xavier over the years. A gaping wound in the world's psyche.

"Yes," Erik confirmed.

"How dare you. Hundreds dead, SHIELD, the X-Men, the Ultimates, all out of your way so you can be here. Why?"

Erik swayed subtly in the doorway, like a cobra about to strike. "We've always thought alike, Charles. Why don't you tell me?"

"Because I cannot fathom how the man I knew became a monster. Magneto."

Erik stepped inside. His armor, his rage so out of place in the sedate, artistic surroundings. "Finally started calling me by my name, old friend? You always were late to the party."

Charles's eyes closed. "Please, tell me you're not doing this. That this is the end of it—some Chess move—and not what I think it is."

"You've always known it could come to this. All-out war. Superpowered holocaust. Like the Neanderthals. We cannot share the Earth. They're destined to die out. Obsolescence. But we can no longer afford to wait the millennia it would take to be rid of them. I'll clear the Earth of their deadwood before the fire can begin. Before it continues, I should say."

"Why?" Charles asked, with all his pain, all his loss.

"For Pietro," Erik replied, and Charles didn't need the helmet out of the way to read him. He just needed to be his friend.

"I'm sorry. But no amount of death will even those scales."

"This is not about revenge. It's about having my eyes open. I've been as blind as you, Charles. In my own lifetime, I've seen what the humans have done. All of history speaks of it. War and famine and ecological devastation. They are incapable of morality. Once before, God didn't like what He had created. It took forty days and forty nights to wash the stench of their blasphemy from the Earth. I will help Him this time. It will be done in three."

"You're not God. I don't know what you are. But they will hunt you down for this. And I will help them. We will stop you while you can still be remembered simply as a madman, and not as a war criminal."

With a gesture, the metal wheels of Xavier's wheelchair were in motion. He was brought before Magneto like a supplicant before an altar.

"I didn't come here to talk, Charles. I came here for the inevitable."

The pulse of electricity was quick and brutal, ripping through Xavier's brain, blinding every nerve and overloading every neuron. He died still thinking they were talking.

Erik took off his helmet to regard his friend as he once had: unencumbered. "To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to die, and a time for a new world to be born."

***

Nick Fury was talking to him.

"It's been twenty hours, Peter. You've been out of webbing for the last ten. That is enough. Go home, get some sleep—hell, don't go home, I'll lockdown a tent for you, just sit down for five minutes. You're making me tired just looking at you."

Peter looked around the harbor. Out of the chaos of the tsunami that the crash had kicked up, now there were Quinjets and medical tents, ambulances, police cars—a small army marshalled on the banks of New York Bay, ferrying the survivors away from the crashed Helicarrier.

He couldn't let them down. "One more. Send me back one more time, I'll..."

"No. You won't. I'm giving you an order here. Sit down. Drink some water. Keep breathing."

Peter shook his head. Suddenly, it seemed very hard. Very tiring. "I don't take orders from you."

Fury guffawed. "Yeah, right. Hey, you, Spider-Girl or whatever the hell your name is—"

Lana looked up from the sandwich she was grabbing on a table of refreshments. "I'm not his fucking sidekick, okay, I'm a goddamn supervillain!"

"Okay, alright, whatever. Take your boy here over to that tent," he pointed, "and shove him until he falls into a bed. Shouldn't take that much." His one eye arched at Peter. "Black Cat, Elektra, Sable... got a thing for bad girls, dontcha?"

"As soon as you stop being so damn blurry, I'm gonna slap you."

Lana came over, sandwich still in hand, to take Spider-Man by the shoulders. "Come on, Captain America."

"'s Spider-Man."

"I took a nap in the aid tent, came back to work, and you were still working. Fuck you, you can call yourself Captain America if you want."

***

The aid tent was really a prefab officer's quarters, the size and shape of an freight container, with a cot, desk, folding chairs, wall locker, some food and drink... not much else. All it had to offer was privacy. With the door locked behind him, Peter didn't have to worry about someone unmasking him in his sleep.

The further he got from the water, the more his stamina ebbed. His adrenaline high ended, leaving him with what felt like days without sleep taking their toll. By the end, Lana was carrying him to the bed at the end of the room, their footsteps echoing off the metal walls at a slow, stately beat.

Finally, she sat him down and he sagged over the mattress, against the wall, sprawled out like he was barely breathing. He looked so vulnerable. Lana didn't know what to make of him.

"That was the first time I've ever done anything... superhero-y. Was that superhero-y?" she wondered. "Fuck yeah, it was. That was more superhero-y than anything those Fantastic Four pricks have ever done. Fuck those guys. What've they done for anything?"

"That was pretty good," Spider-Man said, startling her. She thought he'd fallen asleep. No, he was just motionless. "You could have a future in this business. If, ya know, you stop robbing people."

"Eh."

"How d'yerr powers work, anyway? Are you a mutant or something?"

"Do I look like an X-Man? Nah, it's my mom. My powers only work if we're right next to each other."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't need me. I mean, have you listened to her for five minutes?"

"Your power only works with your mother. That's interesting."

"Yeah? You live with her."

"And you rob people? With that power?"

"What, we should beat up muggers instead? I'm guessing you don't drive a Corvette."

"It's New York," Spider-Man yawned explosively. "Who drives?"

"I wanna. I wanna go to LA and... forget it. You probably want to sleep."

But when she got up to leave, Lana saw something in motion on Peter's unmoving body.

***

The symbiote had bid its time. It had sampled Peter's memories and knew he could not be controlled, only ridden. By working in concert with him, increasing his strength and speed and the stamina, Peter worked harder to produce more of the endorphins the symbiote fed upon. It had fed well on him as he went again and again into the Helicarrier, rescuing the weak and injured.

How the symbiote would've loved to devour just one, but no, no. Then the Parker-host would reject it. It could not openly feed. Only share in the natural equilibrium between them. And that would be more than enough for it, except that the lifecycle had come full cycle. It was time now for the symbiote to begin mitosis. All that was needed now was the necessary nutrients to be harvested, and ever did the symbiote long to devour the girl-human bones and all, adding her strength to their symbiosis. But there was another way to feed upon her. Another way to cull some nutrients from her lovely young biology.

The Parker-host was unconscious. And as strong-willed as he was, the symbiote had some control. It increased the blood flow to his genitals as it drizzled its pheromones through his pores. The female had already proven to be highly receptive to the Parker-host, her arousal easily visible to the symbiote's many senses. All that remained was to bait the prey.

***

The crotch of Spider-Man's costume was pressing outward. A long way outward. Lana's eyes were drawn to it. She couldn't look away from the massive bulge virtually pounding against the confines of his tight-fitting costume. Lana felt like she did when she was taking power from Lori. Spider-Man was giving her energy, fire, life, making her feel like she could just explode!

Lana looked up to see his mask was as blank as ever, without the semblance of animation that his personality infused it with. His thoughts were clearly worlds away. She looked back to the tightly stretched material at his groin and found it throbbing hard enough, lewdly enough, for her to notice. It was then Lana realized that her panties were completely soaked.

Standing in place, she crossed her legs, squeezing her labia before it could grow any more sensitive. This did nothing to quell the throbbing inside her. She thought she could feel his eyes on her breasts now, in her strained crop top, the nipples drawing the eye. Spider-Man was staring at her tits and it turned her on. Maybe he had fantasies about her. Maybe he pumped his cock, thinking about her body and her cunt. He probably came like a fire hydrant, just thinking about fucking her.

Lana tucked her hands behind her back, thrusting her chest out as she walked slowly back to the Spider. "Oh. I get it. All that violence, now you want a little fuck to go with it. And here I've given you a great big stiffie so you can't get to sleep, even though you saved all those nice people. Shit, that was inconsiderate of me. Guess I'd better do something about that before my mom throws herself cunt-first on that hard-on of yours. Let's just get you comfortable. Can't be too comfortable, getting a hard-on in a full-body condom..."

She put on her on his hip, one on his thigh, the muscles there as hard as steel and as warm as fresh bread. Bent over him so his bulging cock was only inches from her face. She trembled, excitement flooding into her, her cunt shooting off sparks. Lana moved her hand off his hip. She felt the texture of his suit, the raised webbing, the heat of his body underneath. Until her hand was pressed against the big hunk of meat below his waist. Gently squeezing. Finding out it really was as big, as perfect as it had looked. She rubbed at it like it was a lamp she wanted a genie out of. He took a sharp inhale of breath.

"Like that, huh?" she asked his stoic mask. "Want me to make you jizz in your pants? Least the whole city wouldn't see your horse-dick running down your leg. Bet you have some no-stick water-resistant rubberized motherfucker bullshit that makes it wash right out. Yeah. Wrestling around with Black Cat all the time. Neurotic fuck. Bet you come in your pants like some strip-club loser, then you web her up. Motherfucker. I'm not gonna give you a lapdance, bitch! I wanna see your cock! Show me your cock! You fucking bitch, show me that big dick!"

Trembling hands suddenly sure, she yanked his pants down around his knees. He was wearing briefs, but those went with the trousers. The sunlight through the small windows near the ceiling made his pale skin incandescent, his cock into a pillar of light. Freed, it stood up firm and hard. Lana stared at them, twitching, throbbing, ready to fuck. Her cunt pulsed pleasurably like he'd already been inside her.

"There. You've shown me your dick, you bastard, just like you wanted. Motherfucker. Pervert! It's not even that big a dick! It's not even—" Lana gulped. "Think that strong, silent act is gonna get me to touch it? You think just cuz you have a big prick, I'm gonna shove it down my throat like something out of a porno? I oughta leave you like this. All worked up with the thought of fucking me. Did you really think I'd blow you? Or that you could put it in me? I bet you even thought I'd take it in the ass for you, you fucking cunt. I should just leave you to jack off like the fascist bitch motherfucker you are—"

Lana stroked Spider-Man's thighs lightly, lovingly, savoring the feel they had without the costume material in the way. His skin was so smooth, flawless, like marble except for the tiny hairs that thrilled and tickled her fingers.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? You should know I'm not my mom. I don't put out just because you have a prick a few inches bigger than Uncle Brad. But you did save all those people... and you let me and mommy get away... and you're letting us keep our loot..."

A wide grin split Lana's face. She prodded his balls and ran a fingertip up his cock. He remained silent—or speechless. Even as she wrapped her fingers around his prick and squeezed it, ever so delicately. Even as she was amazed by the hardness of his cock, the heat that poured out of it, the velvety feel of the precum rolling off its tip. Because despite everything, his cock was almost soft. He was only half-hard, still.

"I get it! You're some sort of fundie freak-job like Captain America! You're into weird shit like this, aren't you? Showing me your big fucking dick and then not letting me do shit about it cuz I'm some 'fallen woman'." Sneering, Lana licked the light coating of seed from her palm. It tasted good. The bastard's cum tasted so damn good. "Well, guess what, you motherfucking hypocrite! You showed it to me, so now I get to do whatever I like with it! If I want to suck your fucking cock—"

And with no further justification, she stuffed his cock deep inside her mouth. Almost gagged with her own lustful speed. He was as thick as a golf ball and when his cock woke up in her mouth, it grew even more. Seven inches, eight inches, maybe eight and a half deep in the hollow of her throat. Peter tensed and instinctively spread his legs, allowing Lana to shuffle forward nearly into his lap. She knelt between his knees and slipped a hand between her own thighs, inside her cut-offs. Her pussy was warm and wet; she rubbed it like a sweet pet. Worked a finger inside and nearly came from that, moaning into her phallic gag. But no. She wouldn't give this perverted freak the satisfaction.

Pulling her hand away, she reached up and rubbed its moisture into his mask. Let him smell her. Let him taste her. He'd never get her pussy, Lana thought triumphantly as she craned her neck and slid the head of his cock—nearly the size of a plum—down into her constricting throat, where she had to swallow to keep herself from choking on it.

***

Peter was having a very nice dream. He was in a cool, dark lake, floating peacefully, while a waterfall that was just so warm came down on the water over his penis, stirring it up, turning it to hot sea foam that bathed and caressed his member with a million tiny bubbles.

Mary Jane was there, and so was Gwen, and Sue and Cat and Ali and Jean and even that blonde SHIELD agent he had rescued, the captain with those amazing breasts—firm, richly curved breasts that jutted proudly from her like snowy hilltops, perfect half-globes that girls dreamed of getting and women wished they had. And outside of the stuffy but still enthralling SHIELD jumpsuit, in a bikini that (like those of the other girls) put a sexual pressure on her body by virtue of being ever so slightly too tight, he could see the svelte pink nipples that he just knew were sensitive, oh so very sensitive, artistic little dewdrops just waiting to freeze into tiny icicles at the smallest stimulation. They splashed and played, laughing, happy, safe, while he relaxed and let the waves carry him and the wonderful waterfall bathe him.

It was a perfect night, even without any stars, just the black, black sky and the cloud overhead that seemed to form a spider, a great white spider in the dark watching over him...

***

Spider-Man moaned loudly, but the heavy noise wasn't enough to wake him from his sleep. Smiling to herself, Lana swirled her tongue and circled her lips in tune to the throbbing of his shaft. He was getting hotter and hotter inside her mouth, like she was starting a fire with the friction from bobbing up and down on his cock.

Lana loved the new hardness his cock had in his mouth. It was so alive, but the head of his prick was so smooth, slick, swelling against her tongue and tantalizing her with sweet teases of cum. She reached down to his balls and prickled her hands on their coarse hair. The same scant hair now scratched at her nose and chin as she came down to the very base of his cock, where he throbbed hard enough to rattle her jawbone. How could it be he wasn't coming yet? Well, fine by her. She'd enjoy gliding up and down his hard cock as long as he let her.

The superhero groaned in his sleep, even louder this time, and his hands groped blindly down his body until his fingers were halted by the tangle of Lana's tousled black hair. She felt the embroidery of the gloves' fingertips on her scalp, pushing and pulling like the moon on the ocean or the blood going back and forth in his veins, subconsciously wanting her to continue bobbing slowly on his member with her wet, slippery lips. She took him deep again, wanting a louder signal, and she didn't stop until her mouth was splayed on his groin and her throat was massaging his cock.

"Ahhhhh..." he said, quite clearly, half a word but still verbal. Lana joined in the chorus, mewing and sighing as she wrapped his stalk in her tongue. His hips were hunched now, his body swaying to meet her lowering head. Peter was nearly awake, but he still wasn't aware of his surroundings. All he was conscious of what his body's need, the twin desires of his libido and his symbiote. He needed to come. He needed to come inside the needy, greedy mouth that had possessed his cock.

"God, you're good!" Spider-Man gasped finally, eyes blinking behind their opaque lenses. "Really good at this—not in, like, a slutty way..."

He was talking in his sleep. Lana rocked her head up and down like she was jacking him off with her mouth. Maybe he would wake up. That'd be fun, seeing the expression on his face when he—wait.

"Take it all," Spider-Man muttered, real force now behind his jolts forward. His body was trying to force itself into the same blissful pressure his cock was feeling. "Suck it, Sue! Make me come right in your mouth!"