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He first saw someone jerking off with a Spiderman’s mask at a party at MJ’s house. Weirdly from Harry and a couple of other jocks that were being way too loud to not be drunk yet, loud enough that it wasn’t only Peter to hear them over the music.
Lizzo, Rumors.
Enthralled by the sudden spark in interest of all the dudes at the party, he made his way through the crowd with his coke & rum in hand and only stopped when he reached the back of the sofa Harry and the guys were sitting at. From the backs of a couple of other blocks, he discerned the grainy picture of a naked guy, clearly an OnlyFans video that no one was willing to pay a higher quality for, going up and down a huge rectilian dildo (texture, spikes and all), pinching his right nipple, moaning obscenely loud, all the while wearing a spiderman mask over his face.
He was saying things like “You’re so big, Crocodile daddy”, “Fuck me harder” and “I’m gonna web all over your face!”, a promise the guy in question fulfilled when he finally came and as if taking the place of some sort of congratulary fireworks for the reaching of the sought goal, poorly edited shots of cartoonish spider webs started coming out of his dick, eliciting a roar of appreaciation and full on belly laughs from all the room except for Peter, that couldn’t help feeling somehow embarassed on the part of the guy, as if it was really him doing those things.
“It’s not just him!”, Harry said in excitement, as he scrolled down to see other videos, “It’s like, it’s full of guys wearing Spiderman masks and doing all sorts of nasty!”
“Look, Look”, another chirped from beside him, “This one’s called The perils of premature webbing!!”
Peter had blushed even more and hid himself behind his glass of beer, swinging back to the party, to the loud music and chatting that wasn’t about those pornographic impersonators of his.
The second time he saw a spiderman themed porno it was somehow out of his own volition, after Jess, a friend from Organic Chemistry, told him that she actually watched a couple of those.
“You know, it’s kind of fascinating what people come up with. Like, the scenarios, and all the intricacies that come with it. What drives me most to them is that, somehow, they seem made by people who are actually interested in the phisiology of such supernatural encounters; things like how is it possible for a spiderman to shoot webbings from his dicks and recent theories on how spiders make milk, some of them are even borderline campy pretend-cannibalism, you know, with the Black Widow and all..”
“God, Jess, please stop.”
Jess chuckled then. She probably thought that Peter was scandalized to learn of people’s kinks, when in fact he was more embarassed to know what people could make out of his body because of his spandex costume. Nevertheless, she egged on:
“I promise you they are kind of innocous, funny even. And either way I think right now super hero themed pornography must be at its peak.”
It was, in fact, at its peak, as Peter stated later that evening. He only had to google ‘spiderman’ and ‘porn’ to be flooded with myriads of search results all of the same nature. Not even an article about spiderman that eneded up there by mere accident. As a matter of fact, there was an article, but it was, that too, about Spiderman porn.
Peter tried to ignore it, he really tried. He shut down his laptop after his first search and went downstairs to eat with surprising gusto Aunt May’s green bean casserole, but after a couple of days he found himself redrawn to it.
People are masturbating on this. People like this. People are, by God’s grace, he bore no ill will, making money out of this.
It took very few videos – The Adventures of the amazing Spiderman and the Villanous Cocks and the Spider Cums alone at night, by all accounts – to spiral down a rabbit hole of pornographic sheananigans, all with him as protagonist, all with different positions, and tropes, and starring ridioulous situations that Peter soon realized didn't stray too much from reality.
Kidnapped by a giant crocodile? Checked. Mistakenly webbing himself? Checked. Backed into a corner by some mugglers and taken advantage of? Thank God no, and he hoped it stayed that way.
Even though the Pet- the Spiderman in the little film seemed to be quite enthralled by the idea.
It almost terrified him the idea that people could recognize him by his ass, judging by the contents of the comments under each video.
To be honest, the ones that caught Peter’s curiosity, though, had more to deal with the performer themselves than the storyline. Simple videos, taken in the privacy of one’shome, under the pretense of being someone else entirely, dawning a mask.
In particular, Peter was fascinated by one: the camera’s angle and strategic position only allowed to saw the entirety of a bed from what Peter assumed was a top shelf, but it was enough to see the person’s whole frame when they came into the shot.
A tall, lean, manly body that Peter noticed somehow resembled his.
They had nothing on but a pair of socks (?) and a homemade spiderman mask, made with red and white cloth and a black marker to trace the webbings.
They wasted no time into teasing, instead went straight for the action when they presented to the camera a small, oval shaped pink toy, that after lubing themselves up, they pressed to the tip of their shaft (not too big, not too small, shaven, Peter easily recollected) and sealed there with a piece of transparent tape, to finally lay down on the bed, trapping their dick between their stomach and the linen sheets.
They don’t do much after that but slowly and methodically rubbing against the mattress. But Peter finds it that it’s properly this, the simpicity, the intimacy of it all, to arouse him, to bewitch him.
The person that’s behind the mask lets out very quiet grunts, almost imperceptible moans, as if he was really trying to stifle down their cries because they might disturb somebody and it is so unbelievably adorable that they would put a hand over the mask where their mouth would be. Touching almost.
It wasn’t a very long video. Just 11 minutes and 46 seconds, a quiet moment of pleasure that, as weird as it might look, this person decided to share with somebody else.
We all need tenderness in our most vulnerable moments, they seemed to say, and tenderness is most valuable when sex is at play.
Peter hadn’t felt this much happiness in cumming in a long time.
Soon after came the subscription to OnlyFans under the name Spider Man. Simple, truthful and strict to the point.
He uploaded a picture of him with his mask on, once again very simple, it was him under the shower, mimicking some sort of model he saw as a boy in those ‘prohibited’ pictures he and his friends would look for with the teacher board room computer when they weren’t around and nobody had yet thought of a password.
Nevertheless, he liked it.
The light of the dawning sun was feebly streaming through the curtains as Peter, completely naked but his mask, was being shot by the camera on a profile, as if he was reaching for the mask to shed it under the shower, that in his fantasy he was about to take after a long night of patrolling.
It was simple, but enough to gain a small crowd of people’s attention. Some lukewarm, some unwanted, upsetting even, some made of genuine interest for Peter and for what he was about to perform, or say, with his body.
The first time he did it, it was when Aunt May went off to visit some obscure relatives that Peter had heard the names of throughout all of his life, but never bothered learning. It was before finals, a particularly exhausting day, when the perpetual act of studying was driving him to the brink of a nervous crisis.
He was casually scrolling down his phone, looking at the news, until he stumbled upon an article about a new SpiderMan sighting. They were usually headlines that hid a very scarce substance, one grainy picture or two of him at night spiralling into the distance. This one was different.
For istance, for once, the owner of the camera had managed to get a fairly stable picture, even if it was just him falling from a platform (thanks again to his clumsiness), secondly, it was actually from closer up than the usual photographs, in which you could basically barely distinguish him from a dragonfly.
This one had caught him from behind at a high speed, as he dived towards the floor to find an appeal with which to turn himself around using his web and the most discernible part of his body was, well, his lower bottom.
He thought about all of those comments under the clips and wondered again: Could people really tell?
He decided to take a shower.
Halfway through it, as he scrubbled his hair with the few remaining streaks of that almond shampoo he stole from Aunt May’s bathroom, he turned the water off and lingered just a minute under the streams of water that still cascaded from his body until every drop fell.
He thought ‘fuck it’.
He went back into the adjacent room, not even bothering to put on a towel – which he truly should have, in retrospect, because he made a mess on the floor – and grabbed his mask and his phone, together with his tripod. He put on the mask, unlocked the cellphone, settled both the latter and the tripod on the sink opposite the shower and played record before jumping back inside with the door open, turning the knob of the shower as to create a gentle rain, enough to cover him from head to toe but not enough to create vapor and obfuscate the sight of his body.
Peter had never realized to what kind of hidden purposes the embarassing for any designer proximity between his sink and his shower could serve.
He gave his back to the camera and, after a moment of recollection, pondering about what he should do next, he decided to lay it simple, like the person from that early afternoon video.
He didn’t show his front to the camera; the faded scars from the fight with Dr. Connors that now subtly blent in with his shape would not see the light of a recording machine, in fear that someone might recognize Peter Parker’s welt burns from a car accident. It was his back, still matted with bruises from his escapades of vigilantism, that he decided to display to the camera.
He recollected that video, that person and their intimacy, and anchoring his right hand to the knob of the shower for support, leaning his backside oh-so-slightly forward in the direction of the camera, he took himself in hand and started to stroke.
Grazing, delicate strokes of fingers over his balls and soft circular motions over his tip set Peter’s body into an ondulatory motion of his back, snakelike in its contortions, meanwhile soft grunts and moans barely escaped from the confines of his mask.
His thoughts still wandered to that video.
He recollected how that person didn’t even touch themselves, how they simply allowed motion to bring them to the brink of bliss, and he stroked on and on and on for what felt like an eternity, determined to enjoy it and not with the mere goal in mind to let his task come to fruition.
It was heaven.
He didn’t do much else that day, except basking into the light of that unusual bright sun perched upon the rooftop with only his boxers and his sunglasses on, so unlike his usually timid self. Not that what he had previously done in his bathroom was anywhere near the definition of shy.
It was three days later when he finally decided to upload the video, under the absloute waste land of content that he had added to his profile, right before he was called in for Organic Chemistry, in one of the janitors’ closet, pretending to be looking for toilet paper that was missing from the bathroom stalls.
It took him several excruciating minutes, but he ended up titling it ‘afternoon shower’, filling in the description with ‘title says what this is about, sorry, I’m not great at expositions’ and uploaded it without a second glance. He went back to the bathroom, did his business, came back to the waiting room and sat next to Jess waiting to be called.
It went pretty well in the end, just a basic rundown of the subjects they went through at class and a more specific scolding that had to do with Peter’s lack of willingness to show up in time or at all. He anyhow managed to score a B+, so he guessed that went okay.
When he came outside he side-glanced a kid that looked on the verge of a mental breakdown, next to him in the line of interrogation.
When the door finally closed behind them, he sat next to Jess once more and they chatted about how it went, the questions that Professor Wednesday had asked and in the end, Jess pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“You know that I found a new one, Parker? I mean, a new Spideyporn?”
He started to laugh and called her a damn pervert. Really, who looks at porn in here of all places.