Mary Jane's Tangled Web Vol. II

Warning:
This story is for adults only! The story has strong sexual and violent content as well as offensive language. If this is something that you feel uncomfortable with or if not old enough according to the law, the author would suggest that you read no further.

Disclaimer:
All of the characters in this story are the property of Marvel Comics. The author makes no claim of ownership on these characters. It is a parody. Written for entertainment and not profit. If you wish to make money off of Marvel, buy stock. I did.

Feedback is always welcome at superbangjason@yahoo.com

Mary Jane’s Tangled Web Vol. II

Chapter 2

“I… need a… therapist.”

Mary Jane Watson-Parker told herself between breathless gasps. Her body length leotard clung to her like a second skin. It was as soaked and matted as her red hair. Sweat poured off her in rivulets. Crunches, lifts and squats rapidly meld together into a cacophony of heated exertion. Her heart pounded, her lungs burned. Her tired muscles screamed for additional fuel. She follows the same aerobics routine for the hundred-thousandth time. The intensive exercise maintained her sculpted figure and reinforced her considerable willpower. Sacrifice.

“Gotta… be crazy…”

She busied her body, but her mind was elsewhere. In the weeks since “the encounter” (that was all she could bring herself to call it) Mary Jane has kept a busy schedule. She’d upped her modeling jobs, took whatever acting parts were being offered and worked-out like a fiend. She had more money and was in the best shape of her life. The downside was she almost never saw Peter. But it had to be done. Sacrifice. It was all part of her plan.

“Amass a small fortune… hire Silver Sable…”

Silver Sable had captured the monster before. If anyone could do it again it was she. How much more would it cost for her to put the bastard down?

“…Kill Venom…”

She spat his name like it was a curse. It was. That name represents everything she could ever hate about humanity. That creature was such a wretch; twisted by its own self-destructive impulses, blaming its own shortcomings on others, nothing left but hate and rage.

“Stop… talkin’ about… yourself…”

* * * * *

Across town, on a chilly overcast October mourning Peter Parker stood in a crowd of reporters. They huddled before a raised podium, cradled in the nook created by the semicircular building. Large green letters spelling ‘OSCORP’ adorn its rain-splattered roof.

Peter’s cold fingers clutched at his camera. “I had half a mind to hang up on Robbie this morning. I need the work but I could be home, cuddled up to a warm MJ right now.” He pulled his coat around himself, waiting amongst the throng of journalists. “I would’ve hung up if this press conference wasn’t about…”

“Norman Osborn.”

One of the reporters whispered his name. The forty-ish businessman approached the microphone. His regular aura of threat was gone. Lines creaked across his face, the results of stress and age. His athletic frame slouched. His close clipped hair was showing signs of graying. He exudes fatigue, tired beyond his years. Peter had seen that face stern and manic, but never depressed. It almost didn’t seem like him. Almost…

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” His voice wasn’t his own. This belonged to an old man, not a captain of industry or world-feared villain. If it wasn’t for his spider-sense faintly tingling in the back of his head, Peter might have doubted his eyes and ears.

“I am stepping down as CEO of Oscorp. It would be a disservice to the shareholders if I could not devote my energies completely to this company. Due to my resent health issues, compounded with the legal entanglements, I find myself less than capable of leading this multinational corporation into the future that its managers, stockholders and employees deserve. I leave it to the board of directors to find a suitable replacement and wish you all the best of luck. Thank you.”

And he left. That was it. No threats, to promises of death and dismemberment; he just walked away. Peter had his pictures. He’d recorded the words on tape. Peter Parker’s job was done.

And it would seem that as far as the Green Goblin was concerned, Spider-Man’s job was done as well.

“I can’t believe it,” Peter exclaimed under his breath, “Norman Osborn, finished?”

* * * * *

As the workout video came to the end so does Mary Jane. She collapsed to the floor in a sweat soaked heap. Gasping for air she tried to remember why she ever started doing this particular exercise program; the music was lame, the host was a drill sergeant and when it was over her knees and ankles hurt.

“I… should… go back to… cardiodancing…” she breathlessly panted.

No! Her brain screamed ‘no’! MJ remembers why she stopped that program. She danced to that CD for an audience of one… and she didn’t want to dredge that memory up. Anything not to relive that night. A chill ran down her spine as she pushed the thought from her mind. Mary Jane got a bottle of water from the fridge and sipped. The cool liquid hit her stomach, almost reducing it to the subzero temperature of her backbone.

She wiped sweat from her brow and moved back to the couch, switching off the DVD player. The musical sting of a news channel coming back from break greeted Mary Jane’s ears. “Peter must’ve left this on. Being a superhero makes you a bit of a 24 hour news junkie.”

An anchorwoman sitting behind a desk gave the camera a friendly smile, “In business news CEO and founder of Oscorp, Norman Osborn has stepped down from his position as chief executive to the multinational chemical firm. Oscorp’s stock dropped 10 points yesterday amid rumors that Oscorp’s new chemical treatment for nerve damage was rumored as being rejected by the FDA. Citing his history of mental and legal problems, Osborn has officially resigned before market opening today. Oscorps stock has bounced back in speculative trading…”

“Norman Osborn, gone from Oscorp?” she wasn’t sure how to react. Norman Osborn had millions to fund his Goblin antics, with or without the company’s purse. But if he’s actually getting help than this could be a positive. “Is this a good thing?”

“I wonder if Peter knows?” MJ searched out her cell phone and pressed the speed dial. It went immediately to voicemail. Damn it. “Hey hubby, I was just calling to see if you heard about this Norman Osborn thing. Call me back.”

No sooner did she hang up then the house-line rang. Closing her cell she picked up the house phone, “Hey, Tiger.”

“Hey yourself.” A friendly feminine voice replied.

“Hello?”

“MJ, its Liz Osborn.”

“Oh shit. I thought you were Peter.” Liz Osborn, she’s barely seen Liz since Harry died. While Peter and Harry were the best of friends, their wives were never that close. Regardless Liz sounded terribly excited about something.

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. Especially since I need your help.”

“With what, Liz?”

“I’m in a situation. Norman Osborn is no longer in charge of Oscorp.”

“I heard.”

“Well what you didn’t hear (and can’t act on because it’d be insider trading) is that the board of directors called me.” Liz could barely contain the elation in her voice. “They remember the job I did as interim CEO after Harry…” she paused, “…after Harry died.” It’d been years, but that kind of pain doesn’t wash away. After a moment the excited tone returned to her voice. “Listen MJ, the Board of Directors offered me the vacant position.”

“That’s great!” Mary Jane smiled. At least for someone this was happy news. Liz had put up with so much over the years it was time for one of the good guys to finish first.

“It’s better than that. Finally I can afford that boarding school for little Normie.” Liz’s excitement was infectious. “I need your help. I’ve dropped a lot of weight and my old suits don’t fit anymore. Can you take me shopping?” Liz mischievously cackled, overjoyed at the turn of good fortune.

“Sure.” Even though she’d planned a full day, MJ could clear the calendar for Liz. Mary Jane listened, happy for her friend but cautiously optimistic. “How about noon?”

“Okay, we’ll hit the boutiques and get lunch.” Liz’s voice returned to a more businesslike tone. “And bring a copy of your resume. I have a job offer for you.”

“What?”

Liz gave it a moment to sink in. “I’d like you to come in and work for me.”

Mary Jane Watson supermodel… in the corporate sector? “Doing what Liz?”

Almost on cue, Mary Jane’s cell phone rang. “Hang on a second Liz.” MJ looked at the display but didn’t recognize the number. Cautiously she picked up, “Hello?”

“Mary Jane Watson?” The voice was sharp, but undeniably feminine.

“Yes?”

“Mary Jane this is Betty Brant, do you remember me?”

“Of course! Betty, how could I ever forget you.” Betty was a dear friend, but since she took up the life of a private detective/investigative journalist they’d fallen out of contact. “How have you been?”

“I’m just fantastic!” Betty cheerfully chirped. “Are you alone?”

MJ found the question puzzling, “Why would you want to know that?” This was just too much to fast. Since hearing about Norman Osborn’s retirement she hasn’t had a second to think. “I’ve already made a lunch date with…”

An ear splitting crash interrupted Mary Jane. Reflexively she looked up.and dropped both phones as shards of the broken skylight clatter to the ground. The cause of the crash bounced off the floor, a softball-sized pumpkin rose to eye level with the stunned beauty. Its jack-o-lantern mouth reflected the terror on Mary Jane’s face.

“Oh shit…”

Her world went black.

* * * * *

The next thing Mary Jane felt was the odd sensation of cool air on her bare skin. Slowly waking she gradually realized she was lying on something hard… cold… metal. Tentatively she opened her eyes. The blinding white glare of the halogen light burned through her retinas and into her brain. Confused and disoriented she tried to turn her face away from the invading light, only she found that she couldn’t move her neck.

“Awake already?”

Mary Jane squinted against the brightness, trying to see the speaker. The only thing she could make out was a white lab coat. The blurry figure redirected the articulated arm of a surgical lamp. A few seconds later Mary Jane’s eyes adjusted. She concentrated on the face of the speaker, blinking away the purple splotch that obscured her vision. Finally she saw the doe brown eyes and short-cropped hair, long brunette bangs curling inward, pointing to the pleasant smile of Betty Brant-Leeds.

Carefully, Betty moved a little closer. “How are you feeling, MJ?”

Mary Jane wasn’t sure, her head still rung. Her eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. She tried to focus, wanting to rub the sleep from her eyes. Again she is denied. Nylon bands tightly grip her wrists. “I can’t move my arms.”

Betty smiled and let out a little giggle, “That’s cause you’re strapped to a gurney for your own safety. You’ve had quite a shock.” With one slender hand she soothingly pet Mary Jane’s forehead. “Try to relax. You can worry about the details later.”

Oh, that sounded fine. The headache was quieting to a dull thud much more manageable than the intense pain she woke up with. Wherever she was, she felt safe. Hospital or not she was among friends. “Betty, where is Peter? He must be worried sick…”

Betty lifted a finger to her lips. “Shh… don’t fret. He’ll be along shortly.” Betty dug a small bottle out of the pocket of her lab coat. “Here.” With her long slender fingers she pulled the stopper out and held the bottle to MJ’s lips, “The doctor said you were supposed to drink this when you woke up.”

“Wha…“ Mary Jane never finished her question. Betty poured the clear liquid into her open mouth. MJ gagged, the foul fluid left a sickening chemical aftertaste.

“What… What was that awful stuff?”

Betty read the label aloud, “Promochloraparazine.”

“Never heard of it.” The redhead said, rolling her tongue around in her mouth to try and spread thin the disgustingly strong taste. “What kind of medicine is that?”

“I don’t think its medicine.” Betty shrugged her shoulders. “The doctor said something about catalyzing your bloodstream…” She tossed the empty vessel over her shoulder. It shattered on the floor. “For all I know it might as well be voodoo.”

Cold fear gripped the base of Mary Jane’s skull and froze her mind with terror. Before her brain was befuddled, but the terrible taste of the unknown chemical snapped her to her senses. Why was Betty wearing a doctor’s coat? What hospital was this? What happened in her apartment? She only had one outlet for answers. “Betty… What’s going on?”

“Good question.” Betty ran her hand over the bare skin of MJ’s legs. “What-is-going-on.” She pronounced each syllable in a mocking imitation of Mary Jane’s quivering voice. Her fingertips skated up Mary Jane’s bare midsection, little ripples of tension tickled MJ’s tummy. Betty’s smile became a little more serious. “You have such wonderful skin. So soft… so smooth…”

“Betty, please stop.” MJ tried to remain calm despite every fiber of her being wanting to be somewhere, anywhere else. She had to know what was going on. “This isn’t a hospital, is it?”

Betty shook her head and grinned wide. “Good guess, Red.” Leisurely she drew a circle around Mary Jane’s navel with the nail of her middle finger. “Don’t stress it though. Just go with it.” Betty’s hand felt MJ’s skin turn suddenly bumpy. “Oh MJ, you’re breaking out in gooseflesh. Are you cold?” Not waiting for an answer, Betty starts to unbutton her lab coat. “Here, let me warm you.”

She let the white overcoat drop to the floor. It was the only stitch of clothing that she wore. Her short hair framed her pretty face. Her neck was long and luxurious. Her frame was thin, sleek and slender. Her skin was a healthy tan; it accented her breasts. While small they were nice, perky and with large chocolate areolas. There was no fat on Betty’s body. Her abdominal muscles were tight and trim. Mary Jane could only see her upper half and that reminded her of a thousand runway models she’d known over the years. Betty had a lovely body and she presented it to Mary Jane’s eyes for approval. “Let’s have a little fun,” she suggested from the corner of her crooked grin.

“Betty,” Mary Jane’s fear struck voice pleaded for sanity. “What are you doing, Betty?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful I find you, Mary Jane?”

Her stomach sank as she heard the words. There was no menace in her voice, it was sweet, sickeningly sweet, but the carnal connotation was clear. “Not again…” she prayed. Mary Jane would beg to whoever was listening for her body not to be a battlefield again. Last time it almost broke her… it still may come next summer when Venom comes to collect her husbands’ life. She would not be willingly put in that position again.

Betty ran her hands over Mary Jane, leaving no part undiscovered as she spoke. “So perfect… so fucking perfect. Your skin so radiant, your hair so red, your teeth so white… I’d kill for green eyes like yours. How can you be so beautiful? Your legs, your arms, your shoulders, your hips, your neck, your ass, your lips…” Betty hands found each part as she named it, running the length of her body several times. At last her fingers tentatively touched between Mary Jane’s legs.

“Fucking stop Betty!” Mary Jane yelled as she desperately tried to shake off her bonds.

Undeterred, Betty ruffled her fingers through the soft tuft of pubic hair. “You’ve got such a nice pussy.”

“Betty!” Mary Jane screamed again, loud enough to hurt her own ears. “Don’t fucking touch me there!” Mary Jane strained, pulling at the straps as hard as she could, not sure if the bands or her wrists would be the first thing to break.

“You’re awful tense,” Betty gushed in mock concern. “I know what would calm you down.” She stroked the tender skin of her cleft with two fingers. “How about a nice, slow, finger-bang?”

“No…” Mary Jane convulsed, tugging with everything she was worth. The stain of the effort twisted her beautiful features. Her back arched. Legs and arms pulled inward with every iota of strength till her muscles threatened to burst. Finally, she slumped to the cold metal table. Mary Jane let tears spill from the corners of her eyes. It was no use. All of her efforts couldn’t gain her more than an inch in any direction. She was at Betty’s twisted version of mercy. Despite her instincts Mary Jane calmed down. Brute force was not going to be the way out of this situation.

“There,” Betty placated contently, “that’s more like it.” Leisurely she stroked with her twin digits while Mary Jane uncomfortably squirmed from the invasive touch. “You’re just as soft as silk. Beautiful as a summer rain.” Betty leaned over, propping her chin up with her free hand and luridly looked into MJ’s eyes. “So pretty. How do you suppose that makes the rest of us feel?”

Mary Jane winced at the rhetorical question. Betty pressed harder for an answer. “You are so pretty-as-a-picture-perfect that the rest of us look ugly in comparison.” Betty’s expression turned to stone as she spoke. “You’re a tough act to follow Ms. Mary Jane Parker. What do you say I level the playing field?” Betty delivery was deadpan, but the words carried the most threat she’d ever heard. “How about I cut your face off with that scalpel over there?”

Mary Jane shivered, physically, emotionally and spiritually all at once. She’d never been so scared. Even in her ‘encounter’ with Venom she had some degree of control. This was different. She was completely helpless and worst of all somehow Betty had gone stone cold crazy.

Betty removed her hand, lifting the fingers to her mouth she tasted Mary Jane. “Succulent…” was all she said. Mary Jane closed her eyes, not wanting to know what came next. Betty pat her brow, wiping away some of the cold sweat. “Are you ready to play nice?”

“Yes,” she managed, cautiously opening her eyes.

Like magic the friendly smile returned to Betty’s face. “Good. I love what you’ve done with your hair. It so retro.”

Mary Jane reeled, how could she slip right back to trivialities.

Betty’s soft hand tentatively touched MJ’s left breast. “So sexy…” Gently she grasped MJ’s tit, feeling its girth and firmness. Her thumb played with the pink nipple, drawing an immediate reaction from the sensitive tip.

“Betty… please don’t…” Mary Jane’s voice quivered, she felt a growing flame in the pit of her stomach. No matter how scared she was, nerve-endings did their job. Her body and mind were not in agreement, her love for Peter compelled her to beg Betty to stop.

“Oh my god,” Betty whispered, “I can’t believe they’re real!” Betty smiled with child-like glee, playing with MJ’s tit like a wonderful new toy. She leaned over Mary Jane’s chest, her hot breath sent shocks of sexual electricity from Mary Jane, stem to stern. “You’re so hot.” Betty pulled the erect nipple into her mouth with her tongue. She licked and sucked at the pink pinnacle of Mary Jane’s tit.

She had to remind herself to ‘play nice’. “Ooo… Betty…” She moaned, clenching her hands into tight balls, “You’re driving me crazy…” Her skin burned with every touch, Betty was not bad at what she was doing, but the entire situation was just so wrong. Damn the consequences, she needed to try. “Stop… I can’t… I’m… I’m married…”

Betty’s answer was to flick the tip of her tongue, brushing the oversensitive end and throwing a jolt up MJ’s spine. Slowly Betty traced expanding circles around the peak with her dexterous tongue. The erotic impulse infected her bound subject.

Mary Jane tried to resist. Her arms, legs, chest and head are strapped to the cold steel. No matter how she squirmed she couldn’t wiggle free. Betty’s hands freely explored the length and breath of her bare body. Mary Jane’s stomach grew heavy. Desire destroyed resolve. “Please… Betty… I’m straight…”

Betty looked up, a string of saliva connected lip to nip. “So am I.” Her hands played with the bountiful breasts before her. “You’re just so sexy…”

“Betty,” MJ grew desperate, “You’re not like this. This isn’t you.”

“Just between you and me,” she leaned in, whispering like a conspirator, “I think I’ve always had a bit of the ‘bi’ in me…”

Betty nuzzled MJ’s neck, Betty sniffed her sweet scent while playing with her scarlet tresses. Kissing the cleft of her chin, Betty sultrily slid on top of the supplicated supermodel. Betty’s breasts broadly brushstroked MJ’s bound bust. She straddled her, letting the heat of her sex fall onto her captive’s core. Elbows on the metal slab, arms crisscrossed over MJ’s neck, fingers intertwined. Like a cat whose caught her prey Betty gazed into MJ’s emerald eyes. The Cheshire smile light up Betty’s face, “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” With that she unraveled her tongue and licked the nervous sweat from MJ’s lips.

Fear and lust rocked Mary Jane’s senses. Her overpowering urge is to give in, let Betty do what she will and love every minute of it. Betty’s seductions were so complete… MJ’s body craved gratification, no matter the source. Her mind and soul cried out for Peter’s loving arms. A tear flowed from the corner of her eye. “I’ve already begged and pleaded,” MJ desperately thought, “I need to switch tactics.” Swallowing dryly, MJ tried her best.

“Betty… I…” MJ eased her tight fisted grip. Tentatively she let her fingers feel the hot flesh of Betty’s thighs. MJ spread her legs as far apart as the restraints would allow. “I want you.”

Their lips caressed. Mary Jane is struck by the softness of them, like silk pillows or satin sheets. They kissed. Gently at first, then more forceful, more certain. Betty lips parted, taking in MJ’s lower, then upper lip, suckling each in turn. “So sweet,” her mind mused, “like strawberry wine. In another life I may’ve enjoyed this.”

Betty’s tongue tasted Mary Jane’s mouth. She didn’t resist. The tongue probed deeply, Betty inhaled MJ’s bated breath. Knowing she must reciprocate, Mary Jane opened wider, giving Betty full access. Their tongues touched and teased, twisting and tangling in erotic oral play. Mary Jane committed herself to the part. She closed her lips and sucked on Betty’s tongue. Wordlessly, Betty groaned her approval. “I’m sorry Peter,” she silently prayed, “this is my only chance at escape.”

Betty rocked back and forth slightly. Their hardened nipples rubbed together, the pleasurable sensation purveying the participants. Her flush full vaginal lips stroked against Mary Jane’s clit. She gasped. The hot, moist mixture of touch and tease sent MJ to undreamed of levels of arousal. “Betty…” she breathlessly begged, “…don’t stop…”

Betty dove deeply into a kiss of desperate desire. Mary Jane’s fingers tightened on the supple flesh of Betty’s thighs, urging her to continue undulating their sexes together. The mounting friction between them intensified. Little gasps and groans erupted uninhibited from both becoming beauties. A scintillating sizzle of sexual synergy succulently surrounded the sensual sirens. MJ struggled with the straps. Her bonds prevented access, her body wanted to please the source of such pleasure. The anxiety caused her to sweat the pure perspiration of frustration. Their pubes tickled and tangled, the motion made more friction and frustration for the fixated femme.

“Oh Betty! I…” MJ went for it, “Please untie me. Free my arms so I can make love to you.”

For a moment, she thought it almost worked.

“Aren’t you quite the little actress?” Betty luridly laughed, leaning over the reddened face of her bound bounty. She flicked one finger against the tip of Mary Jane’s nose in a playful childlike gesture. “Me and you… we’re gonna make love… we’re gonna fuck… we’re gonna do everything your dirty little mind can imagine.” Betty smiled with insane glee. “And you know what? We’re gonna do it anytime, anyplace that we want to. We’re gonna own this fucking city and suck it dry…”

The sound of metal scraping on concrete interrupted Betty’s tirade. MJ couldn’t move her head, but Betty did. “Shit!” the brunette cursed, “…busted.”

The sound of booted footfalls echoed off the cavernous walls giving Mary Jane an idea about how big the space she occupied was. The footsteps ominously grew louder as the unknown interloper approached. Betty slid off MJ and picked her lab coat off the floor.

“What are you doing?” The questioner was male. His voice was deep and dangerous.

“Nothing…” Betty’s fear was obvious in her voice, “…we were just playing.”

“Did you give her the drug?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” An orange cowl came into Mary Jane’s view. A sinister snicker snaked from underneath the pumpkin colored cloth. “It’s time to begin Ms. Parker’s initiation.” Mary Jane’s eyes widened in recognition of the villain’s ghastly visage. The jaundice yellow mask, the red eyes and maniac grin are unmistakable. The Hobgoblin loomed over her defenseless form. “The master called and said to begin without him.” He reached down and brushed a stray curl away from Mary Jane’s face. “Put her in the chamber.”

“Hobgoblin…” Mary Jane tried to make sense of the revelation. “Who’s under the mask?” With Betty here it logically pointed her ex-husband, to Ned Leeds. But he died, and Mary Jane didn’t think he was actually the Hobgoblin. She remembered some kind of cover up. “What the hell is going on?”

Betty pushed the gurney. The wheels gave a pained squeal as they were coaxed into action. Betty let the lab coat hang open, the muscles under her breasts clenched as she pushed. Neither pride nor privacy persuaded her to basic modesty. The stretcher jostled as Betty roughly shoved it over the lip of… some sort of plastic chamber.

Betty wheeled her to the center of the room and checked her bindings. “Don’t worry, it will hurt, but not for long.”

“Betty please…”

“Shh…” she silenced the terrified model like a petulant child. “Don’t fret…” Betty smiled and caressed Mary Jane’s tear stained cheek with the back of her hand. “It will all be over soon…” she leaned in and kisses away a tear, “…and when its done you’ll feel amazing.” Betty turned and left Mary Jane’s restricted view. The only thing she heard was the ‘shunk’ of the plastic door closing, like Tupperware forming an airtight seal.

There was silence for several heartbeats. Mary Jane’s breath came in short, fear-tinged rasps.

“Please God, don’t let this be happening.” A hollow clank and a low hissing noise cut off her prayer. “Peter! Where are you?”

A sweet smell hit Mary Jane’s nostrils. She tried to hold her breath. A gray-green mist obscured her view of the clear plastic ceiling. All she could do was shut her eyes as the sugary-smelling mist slowly descended on her. She struggled and strained against her bonds, lungs burning for air. Her mind repeating one thing over and over…

“I’m so sorry Peter.”