The Rape of Mary Jane Watson

A/N: I don't own Spider-Man or any characters related to it. All of the characters metioned in this story are property of Marvel Comics. This is based on the part in Ultimate Spider-Man Volume 8 where MJ ran away from home and hid in the warehouse. MJ is only about fifteen or sixteen, and this is rape, but that doesn't mean that I condone rape or underaged sex. The chapter "Sandpaper" has a pretty intense torture scene, too, but keep in mind this is just fiction. If you don't like this kind of fiction, don't read it. You're free to tell me it sucks, but be prepared to tell me why you think it sucks.

Begin chip chip one...

The night was heavy and dark around the abandoned warehouse. A diary with a half written entry rested beneath the cold hand. Its fingers were still wrapped loosely around the black pen, though the owner of the hand was fast asleep, buried in a thick hooded jacket. Moonlight illuminated her soft cheek, painting shadows that contrasted sharply with her pale flesh. Strands of red hair shimmered in what little light the moon could send through the broken, smudged windows. The figure didn’t stir, didn’t bat an eyelash, even when soft footsteps crunched across the debris strewn floor. A larger shadow fell across her, completely shrouding her in darkness.

Flint Marko stood over the huddled teenager. They had assumed the warehouse would be empty, not that this pathetic little thing was a threat to them in the least. She didn’t even know they were there. He turned away from her, meaning to sneak off and inform Otto. The scientist’s policy on unnecessary attention calling was clear, even though it frustrated Max and Flint to no end at times. Max especially, it seemed. Max was far too hyper for… Flint’s thoughts were interrupted by considerably less careful footsteps crashing their way through the dark. A spark of white and blue electricity briefly illuminated the shaved head of Maxwell Dillon, aka Electro. Flint cast a nervous glance at the current occupant when he heard her stir.

“Think the bacon lost the scent?” Max asked, none too quietly.

Flint winced at the extra volume the dark still night gave his colleague’s voice. “Sh,” he hissed and jerked his head at the teenager near his feet.

All Max could see in the deep shadows was a lump of cloth. “What’d you find?” The dark shape groaned rolled over. The hood fell back to reveal more of her face. “Well, hello, chickadee…” His bright blue eyes roamed over the jacket, wondering what kind of body was hiding under it. It had been months since Max had seen a decent pussy, any kind of pussy, for that matter…

Flint followed Max’s eyes. “Is it worth listening to Otto bitch at us and get all superior and shit?”

The other man shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about Arrogant Ass Octavius.”

Mary Jane Watson could barely hear the two voices through the thick veil of sleep blanketing her mind. At first she thought it was just some obnoxious dream and tried to tune it out. She didn’t want to dream. If she started to dream, she feared the nightmares would start again. Images of those horrible orange eyes, the lurch in her stomach as the Goblin cast her off the bridge like a mere rag doll, and everything else haunted her sleep. Just one night, one night without having to relive it, was all she wanted. However, as she drifted closer to wakefulness, a name drifted through the curtain. The name only made what was happening seem more surreal, and yet some how had a strange grounding affect on her. That name was ‘Octavius.’

Flint heard a groan and looked down to watch the emerald eyes flutter open. They fell blankly on the two super-villains for a moment but shot open wide as the film of sleep cleared. “You woke her up,” he told Max without taking his eyes off her. She sat up and scrambled backwards until her back hit the moldy boxes behind her.

“So I did,” Max leered. Her hood had fallen back and he found himself enthralled by the blood red waves of her hair.

Mary Jane’s heart was scrambling to escape through her ribs as she eyed the two men. Both of them were clearly not human. One of them had brown skin with a strange grainy look to it, almost like compacted sand. The other was bald with lightening bolts etched into his scalp and cheeks. The most physically inhuman part about the latter man was, however, his ears, which seemed partially melted and fused to either side of his head. Both of them were glaring down at her like she was an intrusive cockroach to be stepped on and forgotten.

“We can’t let her leave,” Flint continued in the same flat, matter-of-fact voice.

“No, we can’t.” The grin that crossed Max’s face would’ve frightened off a shark. His hands shot out and seized the jacket, hauling her to her feet.

They’re going to kill me. Oh, shit, they’re going to kill me… Despite the burning pain in her armpits as the jacket seams dug into her, Mary Jane kicked out at the other man as he began to close in on her as well. Her foot caught him in the stomach… and sank into it up to her ankle. It was just like kicking a pile of sand. That’s when she screamed.

Flint grabbed her ankle and pulled it out of his stomach, dark amusement contorting his face. “Shut the bitch up. The last thing we need is that little wall crawling bastard.”

Oh, god, Peter, help! She kicked her ankle away from the sand man, simultaneously clawing open the zipper on her jacket and dropping to the ground. This time she rolled away from the boxes, away from the grasping hands that followed her, and managed to scramble to her feet. Without looking back, she shot for the door, leaping debris like a gazelle. The rectangle of light grew bigger, closer… and was suddenly eclipsed by another dark shape. This one had a considerably more distinctive silhouette. In fact, Mary Jane almost ran right into the sinuous, undulating shadows before she registered what was happening. She spun around only to find the other two heading straight for her. Dr. Octopus’ sudden appearance made escape next to impossible, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. Thinking fast, she pretended she was about to go right then shot to the left, instead. However, Otto was prepared for her no matter which direction she chose. Two tentacles were waiting to snatch her up by the waist.

She flinched for more than one reason as the metal serpent, chilled by the night air, slithered over the strip of bare skin between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her jeans. It continued to wind around her torso, across her breasts, and around her neck. Mary Jane shrieked out loud again, only to have the tentacle curl around her head and across her mouth like gag. It was icy on her tongue and the bitter, liquid metal coating burned her taste buds. She hoped it wasn’t something poisonous. Then again, why would he use it if it was? There were bigger problems here than that, anyway. Dr. Octopus knew Peter was Spider-Man, and she prayed he didn’t know she was Spider-Man’s girlfriend. What would happen to her if he did? There was little doubt in her mind that these three all despised Spider-Man to no end. Being thrown off the bridge returned, unbidden, to mind.

Otto Octavius, rather than bring his captive to him, held her in one spot and entered the warehouse at a leisurely pace. His unhurried approach spoke of the arrogance that made him believe the entire world would stop just for him if he commanded it. He stopped less than a foot from her and lowered his dark glasses slowly.

Her stomach lurched when she caught sight of what hid behind those glasses. His eyes were surrounded by melted scar tissue that could make Freddy Krueger wince. The eyeballs themselves were filmy, with grayish yellow irises and unnaturally large pupils. He must have seen the terror and disgust in her eyes because the metal appendage constricted painfully over her breasts and ribs, extracting a muffled gasp from her lungs.

Otto glanced over her once before addressing the other two men. His voice split the silence, shattering the night. “I see the children have found themselves a little toy.”

The shark-like grin reappeared across Max’s face. “Does that mean we get to keep her?”

Otto smirked. “For some lascivious, juvenile amusements, I presume.” He always looked down on humanity for its seemingly bottomless sexual appetite. Sex was everywhere, but Otto felt himself above such fleeting and carnal pleasures. “What would you do when you’re finished with her, hm?” However useful a hostage may be, there was little point in hauling around some sixteen-year-old run away if it wasn’t a necessity.

Max looked at Flint to see if he knew what lascivious meant. Apparently he didn’t either, so Max ignored the comment and focused on the question. “Kill her,” he shrugged.

Mary Jane let out a muffled squeak and started clawing at the tentacle. It was futile, she knew that. Even Peter had to strain to fight his way out of the octopus’ grip, but she was less than thrilled with the direction this conversation was taking. Speaking of Peter, where was he? He should’ve come back and heard she was missing by now, shouldn’t he? This was a stupid place to come. She was an idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot…

“Our circumstance does not necessitate hostage taking.” Otto’s eyes were on the backpack nestled among the boxes. He doubted a teenage girl could possibly carry anything they’d need, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

“Damn it, why can’t you talk normal?” Max asked.

Otto snorted and stretched his tentacle across the room. “Very well, but be quick and make sure you dispose of her when you’re finished.”

Max reached out and greedily snatched the young girl to him. She wasn’t even as tall as his shoulder, and her figure was so much slighter than his. His arms ensnared her from behind and he pressed his body into her warm back.

“No!” Mary Jane struggled. “Please, let m-” A large hand clamped over her mouth from behind, muffling the rest of her pleas.

“Aw, sugar tits, we ain’t gonna hurt you…” Max cooed in a dark, silky voice. His hand explored under her shirt, hooking the hem with his thumb to drag it up past her breast.

“Much,” Flint added with a sinister glint in his eyes. “Come on, Max, spill the goods.”

Mary Jane screamed against the hand and bucked against the arms restraining her, elbowing for the man’s stomach. His—Max’s—hand was moving to invade her bra, now. Her nipple tingled a little under the tips of his fingers as they slid past. That was more than she could take. Her teeth sunk viciously into the hand covering her mouth.

Max jerked his hand away with a snarl and glared at the teeth marks on his palm. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her tit and released a weak but still painful shock. The red-head arched her back and yelped. Almost at the same moment, Flint stepped up and buried his fist in her belly, cutting the yelp off short as the air raced from her lungs. Her weight shifted suddenly as she doubled over in pain, but Max bent with it and dragged her back to her feet. “Feisty little bitch, ain’t she?” He smirked and pressed his lips against her ear. “You know what Flint here got put away for, don’t’cha?”

Mary Jane felt tears stinging her eyes as she struggled to fill her burning lungs. She shook her head slightly, cringing away from the lips brushing her ear. Only one other person had ever whispered to her like that before, and she didn’t want to associate his pure love with this primal vulgarity. Where was Peter? He’d been there for her on the bridge. Where was he now?

Max followed her ear and continued whispering. “He beat his girlfriend. Put her in the hospital, you know…”

A low whimper escaped her throat as her eyes flicked up to fall on Flint. His lips quirked sadistically and he cracked his knuckles. Her heart thundered and her body quaked.

“I could be considerably less twisted,” Max continued, hugging the earthquake that was her body. “But if you’re gonna be a little bitch about it, then…”

“I won’t tell.” Her voice hitched a little, catching on the sob she was trying to keep in her throat. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you. I won’t…”

“Oh, no, we’re going to kill you,” Flint asserted. “But the funner you are, the longer you get to live. Hold her.”

This last comment was directed at Max, who pinned her arms roughly behind her back. Her arms screamed as her hands were twisted up between her shoulder blades, but she was too terrified of the advancing super-villain to notice. His left hand latched around her throat. Flint’s skin was rough, almost like sandpaper. His other hand pulled back and her stomach twisted when she realized he was aiming for her face.

Otto had ignored what the other two were doing, instead going to the bag and poking through it with a couple of tentacles. As he suspected there was a change of clothes, a little food and money, but it was hardly enough to get excited over. He had decided to take it, anyway. It wasn’t like the little runaway would need it once she was dead. That was what he had gathered from the little set up she had here: that she had run away from home for some reason or other. Personally, he hadn’t really cared. He had figured, however, that while his two colleagues were busy with their sick little game, it would pass time to flip through her diary. In the beginning he’d merely scanned each page halfheartedly. There were entries about classes and clothes and her parents. In all honesty, her home life really had sucked. He had wondered if her tyrant of a father would miss her when they finally did find her broken and ravaged body. Then his eyes scanned over a name that gave him pause. It was about the field trip where young Parker had been bitten.

The fact that she knew Peter Parker intrigued him, and he read the next couple of entries more closely. So… It would seem we have our hands on Spider-Man’s little girlfriend. The only question that remained was whether or not she knew he was Spider-Man, but it also meant they had to get her out of here before the wall crawler came searching for her. “Stop,” he commanded without looking away from the journal.

Mary Jane dared to breathe a sigh of relief as the menacing fist dropped back to Flint’s side, but she knew she was still in danger. Why did Doc Ock tell them to stop? Her eyes fell on the book he still held in his hand and her heart dropped. Did he know? Oh, god, did he know?

“Mary Jane Watson…” Otto flowed over to join the others, walking on his tentacles. He shoved Flint out of the way as he landed. “Parker’s little girlfriend…”

“Uh…” Her mouth was suddenly dry as cotton. When in doubt, play the fool. “What… What do you mean? Who’s…” She trailed off as a tentacle shot out to take her roughly by the jaw. The needle sharp claws dug into her skin but not far enough to draw blood. Of course, she was painfully aware one squeeze could crush her jaw like a Faberge egg.

“The worst way to deal with me, my dear,” Otto hissed, “is to insult my intelligence.” He jerked her face closer and watched how she winced, delighting in the whimper that brushed past her clenched teeth. “Now, does Parker know you’re here?”

“Yes…” Talking was painful with the metal digging into her jaw bone, but she hoped the bluff would deter them from hurting her too much. It wasn’t a complete lie, anyway. Peter didn’t know she was there now, but when he found out she was missing, this was likely the first place he’d check. The claws released her and Doc Ock straightened slowly, looking down his nose at her like she was one of the lowliest creatures he’d ever seen.

“You’re lying.” He stated it as though it were a plain and common fact. Then, without warning, he struck her hard across the face with a tentacle. Otto made sure he didn’t strike her hard enough to break anything, but he did want it to hurt. Her head snapped to the side and she struggled against Max.

“I’m not lying,” she protested, trying to free her hands. “He’s the one who told me about this place!” Mary Jane was beginning to feel a perhaps foolish amount of confidence welling up inside of her, now. “When he finds us, he’s going to kick all of your asses and-”

“Does Parker know you’re here?” Otto repeated, impatience creeping into his voice. It was a simple enough question. Even the two dimwits he’d been forced to associate with could have answered a question that simple. By giving him such fancy answers, she only told him she was hiding something. At least her answer told him one thing. She knew Peter was Spider-Man.

Mary Jane hung her head. She didn’t want to tell them the whole truth, but it was only a matter of time until they figured it out. They might even move her to a different location for questioning if they didn’t know for sure. Then again, if they knew he’d come looking for her here eventually, they’d move her to a different location anyway. She had always been told, no matter what, never let a mugger or kidnapper or whatever get you in a car and move you from the last place you were seen. That fact, of course, was obvious. Apparently, her silence was enough.

Otto nodded, a half smile on his face. “I see.” He plucked the pen off the dirt with an artificial arm, wrote something on the inside cover of her journal, and deposited both by the backpack. “Bring her along,” he instructed, rising on his tentacles and moving for the door.

“With pleasure,” Max grinned.

“No!” When Max released her wrists to get a better carrying hold on her, she whipped around and kicked for his crotch. She missed by bare inches, but he still stumbled back, likely more surprised than hurt. It didn’t matter, as long as it distracted him enough for her to get away. Before she could get very far, however, a wall of sand crashed into her with enough force to leave tiny scratches on any exposed skin. It filled her mouth and she almost gasped some of it into her lungs. Her eyes squinched shut and her arms crossed over her face, trying to protect her nose and mouth. The sand closed around her and lifted her up. If she was moving, she didn’t know where she was going. Her sense of up and down was only due to the constant tug of gravity. She also found, much to her distress, that she didn’t know how far it was to the ground, but quickly decided she’d rather not know. It seemed like hours passed before she was finally dumped, coughing and spitting sand, on a hard, bare floor, but she had no way of knowing how long it had been, really. She could sense lecherous eyes flicking over her back and turned her head slowly, not wanting to look, but at the same she had to know. If something was coming, she wanted to see and brace for it.

A/N: To be continued....