Story attached below for your perusal and enjoyment, also pasted below if you'd prefer to read it here on Patreon. It's a different take on Venom with an OC drawing inspiration from various sources: a Lady of dignity and high birth who believes she has every right to do whatever she wants with the Other.
Thankyou to the commissioner and to everyone reading this for your support, you guys and gals are the best!
Stay beautiful, Smooth
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Broadway, New York City...
The 23:47 train satisfying the Broadway-Seventh Avenue Line trundled out of the station, groaning and screeching with the kinds of dilapidated airs befitting such archaic machinery.
Within the foremost car, a woman of great esteem supported her weight by bracing a rough metal pole, her silver bangles chattering against the railing as the locomotive shuddered beneath its own weight.
Beneath a storm of misgivings and general malaise, she contemplated the option to seat herself upon the ragged, befouled seating. With a mere glance, her intense eyes identified myriad examples of worn-in filth smattering the upholstery and she dispelled the notion immediately.
What was a lady to do? This was all so alien to an individual of such privilege! Everything around the carefully preened, designer fashion-bedecked stranger filled her with deeper and deeper revulsion with each moment that passed her by.
She appreciated – in that moment – quite how disgusting the lives of the peasantry must be to accept such unsanitary and deplorable conditions as commonplace! For a Lady such as she, how could any of this be acceptable?!
Her plenteous top lip curled upwards in disgust as her crystalline eyes flitted around the almost deserted subway car; they settled on a deplorable individual of ill repute who lay like an abandoned mutt across several chairs.
Sleeping in public without an ounce of shame... how thoroughly uncouth! Her whole face scrunched up in sheer disgust. His frankly repugnant vomit-coloured jacket and otherwise tasteless clothing (barely rags in her eyes,) made it abundantly clear how impoverished this creature was!
Even more scandalous than the reprehensible condition of this peasant was his willingness to not only sit, but to prostrate himself upon the cruddy, dated furniture! Had he no home to return to? No bed of his own in which to sleep?
She cared little for the conditions of this barely human beast's worthless existence, such a person was far beneath a Lady of her standing; however it troubled her that this was the company she was forced to keep in this most humbling of moments.
She huffed and turned away, falling back into her cycle of self-pitying thoughts. She had no time for worrying about the dregs of society when she herself had experienced the worst evening of her entire life!
A woeful night of compounding losses at the craps table had all culminated in this humiliating, self-debasing journey upon the Big Apple's crumbling metro. She couldn't even imagine a shame any greater than being forced by circumstance onto public transport! Oh the humanity of it!
Could a person ever feel more unsuited for a situation than she currently found herself in? Perhaps a pauper who had somehow found their way into one of the members' clubs in which she whittled away her hours would feel just as out of place...
As she fanned herself in frustration, she thought about how ridiculous that idea was! Human cattle similar to the thing strewn out neaby would never be allowed entrance to her world and yet here she was... forced into theirs!
This was her lowest ebb, no doubt. The very bottom of the barrel, forced by the uncompromising hand of fate into sullying herself like this! She couldn't bear it! The shame was crushing her, but a Lady must be proud; a Lady must stand firm!
Was it her fault that the servants she'd once relied upon had all abandoned her? Of course not! She'd only beaten her chauffeur like a dog when he'd actively disappointed her and all of her handmaids had needed the training she provided, a Lady couldn't be blamed for her servants' lack of intestinal fortitude!
With a heavy sigh, the splendidly dressed lady stared long through the darkened locomotive's window, spying from elevated tracks a city of people unwilling and unable to lift themselves out of squalor; it unsettled her humours to think of the ineptitude and poverty out there.
She caught her own reflection and regarded the face of a brilliantly dressed yet ageing woman approaching the moment in which her beauty would become a memory; she considered a woman clinging on to the last of a noble family's dwindling riches and these thoughts of having stumbled ate away at her ever more.
She was a magnificent Condor being slowly and agonizingly deplumed, from without as much as from within. Surely things would change, she imagined, surely fate would smile upon one so deserving in her time of need! Somewhere... out there... an opportunity was heading her way... and Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant would not let it pass her by!
Somewhere... out there...
Spider-Man lost it - just for a second – the alien black thing that ran from him over the rooftops. Ran wasn't the right word, it slithered like a snake or maybe swarmed like a group of bugs!
It was alive! That idea was still in his head, going round and round like he'd been victimised, which really... he felt like he had been! That strange mass of shiny black stuff had stuck to him, trying to become part of him and all while hiding it!
He was catching up with each web shot he fired; but the closer he got, the more it made him feel sick! He didn't really have the word for it, but he felt like he'd been used or maybe even abused... It wouldn't get away with it, it wouldn't get away period!
Now that Peter Parker knew it wasn't the psychically-activated suit he'd thought it was, but an actual living thing just acting at being one, he wanted to stop it at all costs! He wanted to trap it, hide it away and make sure it could never do to anyone else what it had done to him.
After seeing the alien's reaction to the sonic rifle, he'd hoped that the cars honking down below or the sound of an approaching train would slow it down, but the slippery little bastard just kept on running! It kept on leaping from roof to roof, swerving into shadows like it was trying to lose him.
He could see it clearly now, the upper part of it shaped like some mockery of a human head, all dripping black rubbery weirdness; it now seemed so nasty with what he knew. He swung in a really big arc and reached behind himself for the gun Doc Connors had given him to catch it with: a sonic rifle!
Maybe it recognised it, maybe it just saw him; but whatever the cause, he heard it squeal and suddenly surge on, losing most of its form as it did. He watched it lunge for the edge of the rooftop as he landed on the far edge, tearing apart like it was ready to kill itself to escape!
It vanished over the edge, but the chase wasn't over and a couple of big jumps took Spidey to the railing it had escaped through on the roof's lip. He stopped, finger tense by the trigger as if expecting it to leap up and grab him, but nothing happened.
It was still running, that much was obvious, but where could it go?! Peter racked his brains as he looked down on the street below, empty as midnight approached.
Then he looked higher, to the raised train tracks halfway between him and the ground, where an old Metro train was rattling by; if it was looking for someone then it must have gone against its fear of sound and jumped on the train!
With a half step back and a slight grunt, Spider-Man pounced down onto the top of the train. He landed as quietly as could before swinging himself down the side and prying open a door.
He must have set off some kind of alarm, because the moment he forced those doors he felt the train shake and the brakes slam on. Of course that would be a safety concern, normal people couldn't jump onto moving trains and pull open hydraulic doors with their bare hands!
The stoppage could work to his advantage though: maybe, just maybe, the alien costume would be trapped on the train with him now! He got to work, keen to not give it another chance to escape, this whole thing was a living nightmare and he wanted it to be over ASAP!
There was nobody in this car, absolutely empty even with the subway's reputation for being a moving homeless shelter. He didn't take any risks though, dropping right down to aim the sonic rifle under all the chairs while darting his eyes all around.
'KZKT' The tanoy buzzed to life, oops. 'Attention all passengers, we've had to make an emergency stop due to an open door in the rear carriage...' Yeah, not Pete's brightest move. He didn't care about that right now though and hurried confidently into the next car.
'-please remain in your seats while we attempt to fix the issue. Thankyou.' A young couple saw him the moment he walked through the door and shot up. He quickly raised a finger to where his lips were inside his almost plain hood, his eyes still flicking from one shadow to the next.
'Sp-Spider-Man...?' One of the two asked, whispering under his breath as Peter approached, he nodded back and let them see that he had a very strange gun in his hands. They looked very normal, nothing weird about them, maybe just a little star-struck.
'I'm looking for something.' He told them under his breath, looking around as he stopped next to them, 'It's like a black... shiny... thing?' He didn't even really know what it was, how was he meant to describe it?! 'Have you seen anything weird?'
They looked at each other with puzzled expressions and shrugged, 'No problem, you'd know it if you saw it... trust me!' He cautiously moved forwards, 'Just stay behind me and everything will be fine, OK?' They nodded, but quite rightly looked concerned.
He continued into what seemed to be the front coach, another person... no, two people, one lying down... He hoped that wasn't a bad sign! As for the one standing up, she was hard to miss for several reasons:
She was what he'd heard should be called “plump”: a woman with a pleasingly full figure. She was also dressed like she'd gone shopping in every high end boutique in the city: a figure-hugging dress of what might have been Cashmere for all he knew, expensive silver jewelry and a necklace of huge, bright pearls. Then there was her black, but somehow almost purple hair, a strange choice he thought.
More importantly than all that though, she'd not only missed him stepping into the car, she'd not moved beyond gently swaying on the spot for several seconds! Spidey had a really bad feeling about this, but he checked every corner from the right end of his gun to be sure.
He crept closer, quietly and carefully, looking over to the other person when he got close: a homeless man, poor soul, asleep on the seats; a closer look suggested he was breathing and nothing was out of the ordinary.
No... If that alien thing was still on this train then the rich lady knew something... or was its latest victim; against everything his social conditioning told him, he'd bet on the rich lady being the one she should focus on!
He got close while keeping his gun aimed, then cleared his throat to try and get her attention; she kept gently rocking on her very expensive looking high-heels so he coughed again, nothing.
Spider-Man leant around to see her face and found eyes glazed over and a faint, almost mad smile creeping onto her face. 'Uh... Miss?'
'GYAH?!' She suddenly cried out, her voice raspy and firm; her eyes set on him, wide and wild. 'What?!' She demanded as if she didn't give a rat's ass who was standing in front of her, like she'd been taken out of from some important moment.
'Uh... Are you alright...?' He asked at length as he felt her eye-contact become almost painful, like she was staring holes right through him. Something about this woman: her mannerisms, her full yet somehow cruel face or maybe the sudden graceful air she'd regained... it unsettled him, she unsettled him!
'Am I alright?!' She snapped again, sounding angrier and more dangerous with each word that escaped her admittedly luscious red lips 'NO, you absolute imbecile! I'm being disturbed by a freak in a halloween costume!' She snarled, Peter taken aback by the sudden venom in her words.
A moment later, catching him completely by surprise, she span around and swatted the sonic rifle clean out of his hands! 'And get that weapon out of my sight!' She insisted and narrowed her eyes to stare at him with a look that could sour milk. 'Don't you dare point a gun at a Lady!'
'Woah-woah-woah!' Spider-Man gave her all of his focus, the miraculous act of strength she'd just exhibited going over his head. If he'd only looked at the gun, he might have seen how the steel had warped around her fingers as it bent fatally in two; he didn't do that though, he stared back at the rude woman instead.
'I'm here looking for something else, so just relax, Lady.' He tried to reassure her, maybe calm her down, but the situation was worse than ever at this moment without a sound-based weapon in his hands.
She seemed to have come back to her senses, even if those senses were just plain rude! That meant the alien was still on the loose and possibly getting away, he didn't have time to argue with angry commuters.
'Hmph!' She stuck her nose up in the air, looking down it at him, 'Well at least you know how to address me, you meddlesome little shit!' He took a half-step back, not quite sure if he'd really heard what he thought he'd heard.
Right now his social-senses were overcoming his Spider-senses; he couldn't see or hear beyond a nasty middle-aged woman who thought she was better than him.
'Whuh- I'm sorry, what?!' He asked in disbelief; he'd taken some grief in his time, but this was on a whole other level!
'It's “Pardon”, you vulgar cretin!' She corrected him, once more loudly and offensively, leaning right in to his face to really let him have it! Her face was a picture of disgust and hatred, she clearly didn't know who he was.
He wanted to laugh because to him she was almost a caricature of aristocrats and millionaires: rude, entitled and lacking any common decency. The kind of character you'd see in movies or TV shows trying to establish someone as a villain.
'Ha... Of course it is. My bad, your gracious highness...' He mocked her, stepped back and gave a little bow; he was ready to turn and walk away until he heard and felt a glob of her saliva slap against his mask.
'You common piece of filth!' She insulted him more with that powerful but hateful voice 'You dare talk to me that way?!' he didn't move, just for a second, he stayed perfectly still and tried to collect himself.
'Lady...' He reached up a glove and wiped at the sticky patch of spit; the sight of it stretching from his nose onto his fingers triggered him! '-when it comes to daring to do something, spitting in my face is about the bravest thing you can do...' He wasn't taking any more of this, he'd had enough!
'The bravest...' He didn't want to actually harm her, (well he did, but he knew he couldn't,) he just wanted to teach her a lesson; so he pulled back just enough... '-and dumbest!' -he punched her in the gut!
She didn't fall. She didn't gasp. She didn't even move! Something had changed though: his hand... he felt a growing sense of pain: a swelling, throbbing pain like he'd just broken his fingers!
'Huh-?' Was all he could ask, stunned by what had happened, but it all came together in his head as he took another half step back and looked at the woman's face.
She was smiling! Not a warm, friendly smile; but a wicked, almost sadistic smile... A smile of smug self-satisfaction... A smile of rising fury and giddy excitement!
It wasn't just the smile though, it came with laughter: fierce cackling that grew from the pit of her stomach, forced into being in a way that made even the seasoned hero shiver!
He realised just then what it was that made her seem so unsettling: it was her beauty! Not traditional beauty; the kind of sweet, innocent beauty of someone like Mary-Jane. No, this was a forceful, domineering beauty!
Hers was a beauty built around being better, stronger and more confident than you. She was the kind of woman who could make men kneel with a word... or a shout... or an insult!
'Do you yet understand the degree of trouble you're in yet, you little freak?!' She asked, still beaming ear-to-ear as she stood even taller, pushing out her chest. 'Of course not, you're just a simple peasant... Though there's no point hiding it any longer!'
He watched her lift her right hand beside her head and curl her fingers into a fist like she were performing some kind of dance.
She bared her teeth and almost hissed as she tensed up her body. Spider-Man felt a slight draft blow past him as she strained every muscle in her body and almost instantly became like another person altogether!
What had looked like the slight fatness of someone who had lived too comfortably suddenly constricted to reveal bulbous musculature hiding just below the surface!
She didn't have the sinewy, slender muscle of a bodybuilder like he did, her huge muscles ran deep, all the way through to her core like one of those World's Strongest... Women?
She had power meant to be used, not displayed; like a Power-lifter or one of those crazy powerful shot-putters you'd see at the Olympics!
He knew power when he saw it and despite being every bit as tall as this “Lady”, Peter sudden felt very small indeed. He heard the tearing of fabric and looked down as he struggled not to back away; her figure-hugging sheath dress was tearing, ripped by the tension of her throbbing muscles!
The threads didn't act how they should have though, instead they squirmed like little worms as a darkness leaked through the fabric and stitched it back together into a shiny, almost fetishistic substance. He knew what that substance was and what it meant; his gulp spoke volumes.
'Oh no...' He regained enough of his senses to speak and realised this poor woman was just another victim of the same black costume that had stuck to him while trying to drain his humanity! How it had twisted him, bringing out the worst in him, clearly it had done the same to this poor lady!
There was no way such a rich and upstanding citizen could be so harsh and cruel, this was all the fault of the alien creature! He leapt into action, reaching his hands up towards her now completely black dress; 'Don't worry!' He bravely stated as he pushed through the pain barrier of his mangled fingers to try and grab handfuls of the black costume.
'I'll save you!' He concluded and tensed his fingers, trying madly to get any kind of a hold on the surprisingly tight dress: it was really stuck on there! Before his eyes and across the large bosom he had his hands on, Peter watched a white smudge grow from nowhere into a spider symbol like his own yet oddly more threatening by magnitudes.
'Get...' He didn't react when the woman he was trying to save whipped her hand up between them, if he had anything to worry about, his Spider-Sense would tell him! '-your filthy hands-'
'-OFF ME!' She roared and Spider-Man saw a white flash; he felt a ringing in his head, then a split-second later he felt the shaped metal of handrails buckle around his super-powered form!
He flew through three, maybe four of them before landing hard and rolling up into a squat. He paused, it took him a moment to register what had happened.
Had he really just moved down the train car without meaning to? His head was spinning, that much was clear, but why was he now here? The pose of the potent woman now covered in that alien darkness said she had back-handed him, but that was... impossible!
'Huh?! Wha-whuh-! SPIDER-MAN!' Another voice shouted, that was bad... really bad! He let his eyes stray from the woman stood potently grinning to herself, over to the homeless man now springing up off the bench.
He really was a mess: greasy hair slicked back, dirty trousers with holes in them and a once colorful jacket now smeared with the filth of rough living. Without even sparing the woman a glance, he thoughtlessly staggered between a pair or superhumans about to engage in vicious combat!
'You're like my hero, pal!' He gushed, though his voice had all the truth in it that he'd expect from a bald-face liar, like he had some kind of angle or was maybe just high.
'Hey, what's up with your hand? You hurt it, pal?' Was it that obvious? He was craddling his wounded hand, trying to reset his aching fingers.
His own injuries didn't matter right now, Spider-Man knew he had to act fast: either this distraction would let the black suit escape or this guy was in serious danger!
'Hey! Look out behind you!' He insisted as he stood up, reaching out towards the man between himself and a potentially deadly threat.
'Huh?' The hobo asked and took a sudden step, an almost unnatural jolt forwards that made Spider-Man himself lean back in surprise. 'Guh-Spider... Man...?' He asked and kept moving coming towards him, lifting a hand.
Peter reached up to take that hand, offered in something like a plea for help. By the time he even did that though, he could see the man begin to warp; he was... melting... in front of his eyes!
Peter had no other way to describe it, the dude was becoming like jelly! It was horrifying, the fingers in his palm suddenly becoming light and damp like cloth that fell heavy in his touch.
The rest of the man in front of him was doing the same, melting in real time as he continued to come towards him! It was all so unbelievable that even as a hero, he just didn't know what to do!
Peter looked down to the man's chest and watched it buckle towards him, a pair of rounded peaks pushing through his increasingly soft and supple body. It was like something was trying to escape from inside him!
The fingers in his hand turned to liquid, they turned black and dribbled through his grip as the whole of that poor soul did the same.
He watched in absolute horror as the oversized, musclebound curves of the now alien-infested noblewoman shaped the poor man into dripping black oil around her!
She wore the helpless youth like little more than a polish across her body, a polish that trickled down like an upturned bucket of oil!
A wicked, sadistic smile of gleaming teeth and painted red lips emerged through the dribbling darkness and Peter found himself face-to-face with the alien's host once again.
'Now that that's out of the way...' She giggled as if enjoying her little pun at the expense of a man she'd just disintegrated and turned to alien goo. That goo... Spidey could see it sticking tight to her thighs now, turned into long, dark boots with garters up to her short, glistening pencil-dress. '-where were we?'
'You... You monster!' That was the only word he could summon, the only word that seemed to fit! 'How... How could you do that to someone?!' He was almost lost for what to do, shaken by the brutality of what he'd just seen!
A man... a whole human being had just... evaporated... flattened into a piece of clothing then... worn... … worn. He couldn't even come up with any of his famous witty quips in this situation, he just felt sick!
'Do you expect pity?!' She laughed forcefully; her fierce, cracking voice sent shivers down his spine, 'For a creature that doesn't even have a home?!' She was closer than Peter would like and leant even closer with a sneer, 'Do know what else walks the streets without a home?' Her fierce expression grew into a toothy smirk, 'A rat!'
He'd had enough! Spider-Man wasn't about to let this stand and he wasn't going to hold back either! He launched himself a yard backwards and lifted both arms, pointing his forearms while curling his fingers towards his web-shooters.
'Vermin!' She clarified, but Peter wasn't sure if she meant her late victim or him, because she'd grabbed him! As much as she seemed – with a body like a wall of muscle – to be all about power, she showed scary speed to snag his wrists and aim his webs harmlessly aside!
'Think, you little shit...' She insisted as he tried to pull his hands hands free; she held them firmly above her shoulders, resisting his super strength with ease! '-if I'm not happy about you laying your hands on me...'
'Ah-! AH-! AHHH!' He responded to her hands tightening around his wrists, squeezing into his carpels to painful effect. Yet more of the black alien's substance seemed to gush out of her silver bracelets to cake her hands and arms in long, glittering black gloves.
'-why would I allow you to secrete your horrid, sticky pus all over me?!' She squeezed harder and harder while her grin only grew and grew! '~mmhmhmhmhm!~'
*CLICK! CLACK! SNAP!*
'~mAHAHAHA!~' She roared in laughter as she crunched his forearms like twigs, snapping bones with ruthless, eager power! She yanked and suddenly Peter felt himself slam hard into the savage yet elegant woman's huge, rock-hard chest.
'I...' She stated with almost sensual delight as she pulled his arms wider and wider, '-am Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant!' She informed him with deep relish.
Peter didn't listen, he was too preoccupied by a new painful sensation: the feeling of his arms being stretched, his muscles tearing and his joints dislocating like he were being torn apart on a medieval rack!
'I am your better... in every way...' the ripping and tearing was too much, but even his flailing knees did nothing to stop her! '-so when I tell you that I will squash you like the insect that you are...'
The stretching, the tearing, the pain finally stopped as she forced his arms back together and lifted him on them in front of herself. '-then you...'
Again, Peter's ideas about her being limited by her sheer mass were proven all kinds of wrong when her boot suddenly raised up in between them, '-will...'
He knew what was coming and that his Spider-Sense wouldn't warn him, but the force of Lady Cordelia's kick still astonished him. '-DIE!' he heard her say some way away, muffled by the sounds of crunching and twisting steel.
He flew backwards through something hard but Peter couldn;t even tell what; she must have really launched him because it was all a blur for a second or two there until he came to a sudden yet welcome stop.
He wasn't sure where he landed, but it certainly wasn't in the train; he looked forwards... up... and saw dark clouds amassing; he turned to the side towards the train up above on elevated tracks.
Finally he managed to focus on the huge hole through the front cabin, the man-sized hole he'd created on exit. That explained what he'd felt then... and why he was hurting so bad; he was tough, but not invincible after all.
The one thing he couldn't see was the imposing woman who had done that to him... he couldn't see her anywhere until much, much too late!
Midtown...
Exquisite satisfaction reverberated through every inch of Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant. She felt it shudder throughout her pleasingly reinvigorated form and took the opportunity to feel every twitching sinew.
What she savoured was the sensation of crumbling beneath her feet, a crunching resistance that rose in rippling waves of delight up through her extreme, ornate high-heeled boots right the way into her core.
She revelled too in the potency of not just smushing a bothersome, insect-themed plebian beneath her, but in the immediate bliss of extinguishing another lesser being: the man in her hands.
This one had been a train-driver until he had gotten in her way; now he thinned out for her enjoyment, dissolving because she willed it!
He had presented himself as a perfect additional weight to her own with which she could ruin the peculiarly dressed being she knew to be named “Parker” to an even greater extent.
She'd had no issue at all scooping up this grown man to use as little more than a sandbag. With her glistening bootheels now embedded in the shattered flakes of this “Spider Man's” chest, the driver had outlived his usefulness and so now she drained him!
This sublime, servile new wardrobe she had claimed made short work of fulfilling her desire; indeed she took almost perverse enjoyment in the mushy helplessness of this commoner as he turned to molten nothingness between her gloved digits!
The very idea excited her: that this man who was born lower than she, who had lived a life less vital than she had, was now dying a death that made it obvious how inferior he truly was!
The ability to turn her own, high-born status into physical, inarguable supremacy was a delight she had quickly grown into and one she fully intended to exploit.
She looked down into the eyes of the locomotive driver as his body crumpled like a wet paper towel. She allowed herself a lick of her teeth while absorbing the last of him, disassembling his atomic chains within a flood of her living costume!
'NYEARGH!' She felt the full force of the victim suffering beneath her feet as he pressed all his might into dislodging her from what was left of his thorax.
It seemed he perceived himself to be sprightly and agile as he flipped up to land squatted facing away from her; however rapid this shifty little plebeian might have been, Lady Cordelia was every bit his match!
On command, her living, doting outfit whipped out a single, slick feeler which snapped around Parker's ankle; she span and tightened her tendril, yanking his foot out from under him with the simplest of gestures.
She smirked, finding it almost amusing that this new, empowering outfit had come to her almost sobbing and begging to be saved from this creature: he was pathetic! No match for anyone with real skill and control!
'HMPH!' Cordelia huffed and pinpointed a weakpoint before Spider-Man could even rise off his knees, her predatory eyes set squarely between his hips, 'Not dead yet, maggot?!' She sprang forwards and drove the point of her slick, irresistibly firm toes into the slight bulge presented to her for kicking!
She felt the squash, heard it too for the brief moment before it was drowned out beneath the howl of excruciating, castrated anguish her inadequate foe unleashed.
'How about now?!' She goaded, taking great enjoyment – as she always had – from laying down punishment to one she believed deserving of such attentions.
She watched Spider-Man roll and skip across the fractured rooftop she had stomped him into, stopping with a jolt as he hit the far lip; this was almost too easy! Almost because she liked easy: the low-born were not meant to fight back when being disciplined for their inadequacy, this was a fact of life a Lady knew as gospel!
'Guh! GAHD! What's your problem, lady?!' He finally, summoned the words, grunting and squealing just a little with each word, his shock-emasculation clearly having an impact! She knew enough to know he would recover in time, having elicited the information from her reverential new dress.
'~HMHAHA!~ Isn't it obvious, you insufferable little half-wit? My problem is you!' Lady Cordelia answered clearly and confidently while walking towards her plaything; her hands began riding up her hips as she enjoyed the stick and slither of her sheath with each and every movement she made.
'~Guh-!~' He grunted and turned towards the roof's edge to look down. 'You don't understand! That black suit is dangerous!' He argued, though it came off as pathetic in Cordelia's eyes. 'It wants to eat you! Get rid of your mind and replace it with its own!'
It wanted nothing of the sort and she knew it! She merely giggled playfully at the idea of it; this costume was what she had been waiting for! The moment she'd seen the black slime leap from the train's shadows into her face, she'd realised her luck had changed.
Like crepuscular rays scything through the clouds, beams of potent darkness had leapt out to embrace her, welcomed themselves into her orifices, seeking the shortest route to become one with her. She had been chosen!
This gift was the means by which she would regain and even expand her fortune.
This dress was how she would recover from the poor investments she had made at the proposal of her advisors.
This alien symbiont was how she would convince the other Ladies at the Colony Club that she still deserved her place at that table.
This, in short, was exactly what she needed!
Certainly it had been desperate and had tried to take matters into its own prehensile tentacles; its willpower had not lasted. She had put her foot down, stilled its panicking black heart and informed the alien thing that it belonged entirely to her!
She had strangled the resistance out of the alien before it had even fully clothed her, smothered it beneath her will and made it prostrate itself before her!
The eager zeal with which it had accepted her dominance, the hungry appeals to satisfy her said it all: she knew how to control the unruly and this costume's unruliness was nothing more than it signalling its desire to be controlled!
'You are a presumptuous little shit, aren't you?' She asked rhetorically, feeling his panic grow as she closed in, 'You believe I don't know everything you know already?! I know exactly what my new servant is and what it can do for me!'
'Wha-?' He asked in disbelief, perhaps he failed to understand the potential she could extract from it, perhaps he simply couldn't fathom controlling it himself; he was a simple pleb after all.
'All that brings us to the point of why you have to perish, you odious pest...' He finally took action, climbing over the lip with what strength and capacity he had left, 'You shall die because you know too much!' She called after him when she stopped to raise a boot onto the roof's lip and look down.
Parker was in the alleyway below, not quite splatted on the pavement, but barely any better off. With a confident stride, as though leaping off buildings came as second nature, Lady Cordelia plumetted into the dark alley behind him.
'Too much and yet so little all at once...' Cordelia mused, pondering whether this officious worm was even worth the effort of hunting to extinction; he was. A gambler she may have been, but Spider-Man as a risk could be easily... mitigated.
'~Mhmhmhm~' She chuckled under her breath as Spider-Man tried to crawl away, groaning all the way.
'Do you even appreciate the extremity of the the stimulation I'll derive from extinguishing you? My skintight worshipper makes everything I do euphoric... but extirpating you is going to effectuate the grandest elation!' Lost in the moment, poetic language erupted forth.
'~Ugh!~ Don't make this weird, sheesh!' He was trying to stand and clearly remained defiant. 'What are you, one of those types the kids call a “Cougar”?' The insolent oaf deserved the kidney kick her Ladyship delivered to send him skidding down the alleyway through the filth and puddles!
'I'm one of those types important people call ”Your Better”!' She emphasized, tossing her head back arrogantly to look down her nose while stalking once more after her increasingly helpless prey.
Cordelia wondered as she strutted with hands on hips, if she'd be having more or less fun were it not for all the interlopers getting between she and the insect. Another appeared, coming ostensibly out of nowhere; another working-class meat shield for this worthless-class “hero”.
There were discussions, the mumbling of clodhoppers Lady Cordelia was of no mind to listen in on; but it all resulted in another man turning her way and marching to meet her. 'HEY YOU!' He shouted with a disgustingly coarse lack of respect for his superior.
'If you've got a problem with Spider-Man-' He challenged as he got closer, '-then you've got a problem with m-!?' She slapped him with all of her force.
'MOVE, PEASANT!' She exclaimed in fury as her slap twisted his head the whole way around; his body followed, getting wrung out like a dishrag by the force of her palm strike! He cartwheeled through the air before his helical remains desecrated the wall with a sickening squelch!
Without breaking stride, another murder under her belt, Lady Cordelia pranced onwards on her tireless quest. She watched her target finally manage to stand awkwardly on his shattered pelvis and drag himself around the corner; it wasn't her way to hurry, but with a single stride she covered the twenty foot gap to arrive at the corner.
She looked up, she looked left, she looked down to the door of a clothing shop; it was shut up for the night and yet the door just slightly ajar, its lock clearly broken. Once more a wicked smirk crept onto her face and she stepped inside for some retail therapy.
Zara, Midtown...
This was bad, he could hear her coming and whatever he tried, he couldn't seem to lose her. He had to get some distance, lose this crazy woman just long enough to come up with a plan!
That wasn't going to happen now that she'd followed him into this clothing outlet though, he'd been so quiet about it too; so much for that!
'Well, well, well...' He heard her coarse, brutal voice rise over the stillness of the hauntingly quiet shop, echoing off the back wall like the place was haunted. 'A cheap, nasty shop full of rags... What a fitting place for you to choose to perish!'
CLACK
Every step Lady Cordelia took, striking her alien bootheels down onto the hard tiles, was like a thunderclap in his head. He had to be quiet, maybe find a back entrance or somewhere to hide, but she was prowling.
CLACK
This was crazy, he knew it was crazy: to be so badly beaten by not just someone who'd literally just gained her powers, but by a middle-aged woman of standing, someone who had probably never once raised a fist in anger...
CLACK
He had no time to mourn the outcome though, this had very quickly become a life or death scenario and his chances were dwindling by the minute, cut down with each successive injury Cordelia caused him. She seemed to be busying herself with wrecking the shop right now, but he wasn't about to leap in and try to stop her!
CLACK
Peter crept quietly behind racks of clothes, carefully keeping his distance from the haunting noise of the shoes that had almost killed him.
CLACK
He distracted himself by thinking about all the lunatics and wild men he'd fought before today, how had none of them hurt him the way she had?! Was she really as good as she claimed to be? That was a scary thought!
CLACK
'What disgusting, low-grade clothing...' He heard her muse somewhere across the room, '-but while I'm browsing the thrift store, perhaps I'll take a look at the skin-suit department...' Peter paused for a moment on hearing that rather disturbing sentence.
CLACK
'For such a low-grade male, I'm sure your mate... Mary-Jane Watson, wasn't it...? I'm sure she's the kind of girl I'd find in a shit-hole like this...!' He pressed on, inching closer to the emergency exit while clothes racks clattered to the ground across the room.
CLACK
'They seem to be all out of stock... Perhaps I'll pay a visit to her at your home in Queens. I'm sure to feel even more like my best self if I'm wearing her young, supple skin!'
CLACK
That particular heel strike sounded more threatening than the others. Peter stopped, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to reel himself back as best he could from responding to that obvious bait.
CLACK
'Or perhaps you're thinking of fleeing to your friend, Doctor Connors. Maybe grab yourself another of those sound guns you used to hurt my lovely little black dress?'
CLACK
That was actually a really good idea, but if she knew about that... and about Doc Connors... He heard her smash some kind of glass cabinet, sprinkling the floor with shards.
CLACK
Spidey grimaced and shivered a little as he reached the exit. Nervously, holding his breath, he tentatively depressed the bar and prayed to everything he believed in that there would be no alarm on this door either.
CLACK
It opened with a soft click, but a click nonetheless; he gulped and waited. Nothing, not a sound...
CLACK CLACK CLACK-CLACK CLA-CLA-CLA-CLACK!
He got outside, he pinned himself to the wall behind the door and slammed his hand over his lower mask, smothering his mouth and nose in a wild attempt to stop any squeals of fear or pain escaping.
If it was possible for his eyes to pop out of his head, now would be the moment: he couldn't even blink from the fear racing through his body and mind! His senses sharpened to a point finer than a scalpel until he could hear and feel his own heart trying to burst out of his chest.
The clouds had finally opened up and rain now pinged down viciously, muffling the world as if to reflect his mood.
The door hung there, slowly swinging shut, but any moment he expected it to fly off its hinges and leave him face-to-face with his tormentor all over again... slowly it was closing... slowly... inching closed... Peter didn't dare breathe.
click
It closed, nothing happened... Still nothing... He couldn't believe for a second that he'd gotten away with it, but every second was a chance for him to recover just a little and he'd take everything he could get!
He removed his hand from his face in the hope of drawing breath through his damp mask, but even that was a struggle; he was sure she'd collapsed at least one of his lungs when she'd landed on him like a human wrecking ball.
He was hurting, barely able to stand but at least his arms were no longer feeling like they were dropping off, he could grip the wall behind him, that was a small victory though he had no webshooters.
Then there was his hips... He'd never been kicked that hard in his life and he hoped with every fibre of his being that he never would be again! He'd like to think it was the humiliation of being ballbusted that was crippling, but she really had broken something essential.
This was a fight to the death, Lady Cordelia had made that much clear, so if he wanted to survive... to win... he'd need to even the odds!
Besides being stronger and faster than him, she somehow had the ability to negate his Spider-Sense too, but he knew her costume or dress or whatever had an even bigger weakness!
If he could get to Doc Conners' place before she could, then maybe - just maybe - he'd be able to grab another Sonic Rifle and end this madness!
He chose to believe that she would make the same choice he had and head that way first (or maybe - if he was lucky - that she'd stop hunting him,) because if she went after MJ... He gulped, the mortal part of his mind trying to overwhelm him.
He had to focus on the task at hand and turned, grabbing the wall with fingertips and yanking himself up, climbing as quickly as he could without his legs. It was awkward, but one of the pros of being a superhero was this ability to do things on the fly!
With a grunt he pulled his head over the roof's precipace, she was nowhere to be seen, but she was somewhere to be heard!
'~HAAHAHAHAHAAA!~' That wicked and sadistic cackling, like something purpose-designed for humiliation, echoed over the rooftops and while staying hidden he saw her rise into the air; he almost gasped when he saw a web-line like one of his own jet out of her elegantly pointed fingertip.
With a yank she vanished behind the buildings and he could finally pull himself up. He had no webbing of his own to give chase with, but with all the flagpoles and gargoyles around he'd have plenty to swing from.
He threw himself into the air with his hands and slowly, over a couple of blocks got up a head of steam, quickly adapting to a way of travel he'd barely practised. That lack of fore-thought was hurting him now: if he'd only predicted that someone might break his webshooters and his legs, then this would have been so much easier!
It was hard going, but eventually he swang off one particularly springy flagpole to round the corner towards the building Doc Conners had his lab in; everything seemed clear! One more flagpole and he'd probably be able to spring right up there...
BOOOOOOM!
He missed the flagpole; not because he misjudged his flight, but because he was distracted. He watched a massive fireball spew out of the building he was heading for, on the floor he was aiming for... Doc Connors lab had just exploded!
Awkwardly, uncomfortably, Spidey landed on his hands in a puddle below the sudden inferno his salvation had become, this was a disaster! The cascade of glass and burning rubble was bad enough, but now he had nothing to fight Lady Cordelia with!
It got worse a moment later as more twisted metal was thrown into the air, metal freed from a car's hood when a certain latex-clad hunter's boot heel cut through it like a can-opener!
Spidey watched Lady Cordelia almost dismantle the car's front end as she landed on what was left of it with a web-like umbrella slung over her shoulder. How...? How, when he was so ruined, so wet and so ragged... did his torturer look that stylish and put-together?!
She looked to him with a wicked, knowing smile as she lifted a leg to sit more comfortably within the twisted steel; '~Hmhahaha~... So you finally showed up, did you?'
She cast her head back as if to drink in the sound of the rain on her brolly. She looked down her nose at Peter from her engine block chair and straightened up her shoulders in an almost regal way.
'Let's continue where we left off then, you snivelling little coward! Where were we?' That beauty again: the fierce, sexual dominance of the woman projected through a grin so wicked it could melt steel!
39th Street...
Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant gasped in just a smidgen of delight as the spandex-draped buffoon she hunted turned to take flight; her little pyrotechnics display should have routed everyone in the area, providing unrestricted access to her costumed plaything...
That had been the hope anyway, instead nearby youths seemed to flock towards the pandemonium; witnesses were undesireable, especially since they were actual undesireables... they would have to be dealt with.
She could simply ignore them of course, let any testimony they may bring against her crash against the army of judges and lawyers she knew by name, her immunity all but water-tight.
Still... By this point her Ladyship was so very enthralled with using this new, killer dress for ill, so any excuse was a good excuse! Three of the gang hurried towards Spider-Man, staggering awkwardly as he was; the other two made a beeline for her.
With all the enjoyment she could milk from a movement, Cordelia rose with elegant poise from the smouldering remains of her throne. She was welcomed to her feet by a symphony of purring alien squeaks, her living garment mewling in delight over the pleasure of decorating her.
'Hey, bitch!' The first of them challenged in utterly vulgar fashion, 'I seen what you did yo'!' She clenched her teeth, how thoroughly unrefined! He beat his chest like an ape, a primitive and wretched gesture.
'Did you just address me as “Bitch”, you revolting barbarian?!' She tutted and rolled her eyes, what else was to be expected? These streets were owned by the great unwashed after all and chief amongst those making them frankly unwalkable were these lowly “gangsters.”
'Chase, just leave it... She's dangerous!' The second young man said, this one far more well-spoken and rightfully cautious. He stood off to the side as if he feared stepping in the way of a true Lady.
'Horatio, man... I got this, yo'!' Lady Cordelia turned to the second man and tilted her head out of amused curiosity, her lip twitching slightly; she paid his feckless friend no heed as she stopped in front of him.
'Horatio? Were your parents perchance partial to a touch of The Bard, William Shakespeare?' She enquired, sensing the potential for a kindred spirit here of all places. She watched his face change and become even more sheepish; he seemed almost like a good boy... she liked good boys, they tended to serve well and complain little!
'Hey! Don't ignore me, bitch!' The vulgar one provoked as she continued to treat him to her unwavering disregard.
'Y-Yes, my Mom... did.' The one named Horatio admitted, shrinking further and further into his shell.
'Oh, delightful! Then you'll love this!' She turned back to the other one, Chase and with an artfully exact flick of her arm she plunged her sharpened talons under his top lip and performed a deft flick of her wrist and all the razor-sharp points attached to it.
Within a heartbeat Cordelia found herself holding aloft an iconic prop, cleanly sequestered with surgical presicion; the remainder of Chase flopped to the floor lifelessly.
“Alas poor Yorrick!” She exclaimed with truly theatrical, mournful vigour as she thrust the iconic prop into the air to roleplay the famed monologue.
The black surface of her closely entwined rubbery ensemble grew into tendrils that snaked in and out of the bone she cradled betwixt her digits, “I knew him, Horatio:”
It was evident in the corner of her vision that her intended audience was horrified, mortified even, his soul crushed by her act... But what an act it was! Years of theatrical training had gifted her, amongst many other aptitudes, a keen dramatic sense!
She felt the gradual inhalation of delectable insides through the cranium-piercing straws of her delightful living raiments and she struggled to not let her digits waver in feedback. “-a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times;”
She wondered as she recited Shakespeare verbatim - while revelling in her latest sumptuous power move – how much of this monologue the man named Horatio actually knew beyond the oft-quoted opening line.
“-and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!” She saw his lips moving with each word, indicating his knowledge; what a delightful young man!
She lowered her head, turned her eyes knowingly to the side and then she finally lowered Chase's head too; he clearly saw her gaze and despite his utter despair he raised his hands and gave a few, shaking claps.
Cordelia smirked naughtily and thrust the loose, now polished skull of his friend into Horatio's clasped hands as she turned to meet his gaze fully.
'Thankyou, thankyou! What a pity your friend wasn't as cultured and polite as your fine self!' She saw the light return to his eyes as if he'd been offered a reprieve; oh the power! She felt sadistic bliss surge through her, pressing her on! 'However...'
And there it was... The sudden, soul-crushing fear as she sized up to him fully and leant closer, 'Didn't you call me... dangerous?' She reminded him and watched the frog in his throat slide up and down in tense discomfort, she left the idea hanging as she awaited his reponse.
In much the same way as she had caught Spider-Man behind her back earlier, Cordelia saw through her living haute couture that this man's friends were trying to help her real prey get away; she cared little, such fun was she having!
'N-No, I- Y-Yes, but you are- your Ladyship- and I-I have nothing but respect for a-' She lifted her sharpened index finger in front of his face as she listened and felt his nerves ramp up another notch, 'I didn't want this life! I'm not like him!' His eyes briefly flitted downwards, 'I just need the money for my sick Mom!' He almost yelled in his panicky terror.
'D'aww...' She turned her hand slightly and lifted the tip of her thumb to meet her fingertip. 'You need money? Be at 3 East 66th Street at 9AM tomorrow in your finest threads and you can have a job.' The surprise on his face was utterly delightful. 'And?'
'A-And... And I didn't see you here, M'lady!' She let him see her puckered smile, that was the right answer!
'Good boy.' She purred, 'Here's your first job:' She snapped her living rubber-caked fingers and created a clicking sound she knew would reverberate around his head like a church bell; 'Get out of my sight!' She commanded.
His eyes changed, like he'd suddenly been put under hypnosis and in an almost zombie-like march he turned away while Cordelia herself glanced towards Spider-Man and his little helpers. 'Leave the evidence!' She tutted in exasperation, did she really have to spell it all out for these low-born monkeys?
She heard Chase's remains clatter to the ground and she tossed her head back with a grin wondering to herself who was next. The very idea that she could pick and choose, kill and spare at will... it thrilled her almost as much as her enslaved alien did, so a formidable idea indeed!
With dynamic excitement she broke into a swaying, hip-swinging stride and reached a gloved hand out from under her gossamer parasol. The brief shower had stopped, but her symbiote's ability to accessorise her was a pleasant surprise to be sure.
Satisfied that her hair wasn't going to get wet during the casual business of murder, Lady Cordelia lifted the rain canopy off her shoulder and willed it closed.
The approach of two out of the three remaining thugs drew her attention away from the Taxi Spider-Man was being encourage into; yet more roadblocks, would they never learn?
'Yo'! You ain't getting to him unless you go through us!' One challenged as the pair drew gaudy, modern pistols. Her reaction was barely even a sigh, how unimaginative and hopeless.
'Guns. Such artless weapons...' She tutted and raised her spare hand, drawing an exact line between herself and the weapons. The first crack of gunpowder was uncomfortable; the sonic wave hit her harder than the bullet itself his her palm and Cordelia silently cursed her living dress for its failure.
She demanded it do better and felt the improvement once the second wave arrived.
It was better, but not perfect! MORE! She wanted full immunity! The third caused little more than a shiver and she poured praise on her sentient apparel to its deep delight.
While she was dealing with the soundwaves, she almost automatically moved her hand to intercept each projectile, a handful of metal pellets now glued to her sticky glove; she'd stopped them dead, even in her momentary discomfort.
'Yoooo... What the f-' She didn't let her assailant finish that sentence and pre-empted further attacks with a punch. She felt the soft give of powerless human flesh as her gloved hand penetrated the one on the left; she scrunched up her fingers and ejected the bullets between them with explosive consequences!
The remaining gangster just stared in utter disbelief, he'd just seen something that should have been impossible and yet his comrade had a huge hole in him for clarification!
'As I was saying: artless weapons!' She lowered the tip of her collapsed umbrella towards his dumbstruck face, 'A rapier on the other hand...'
In a single heartbeat, her parasol became exactly that: a finely honed, ornately designed longsword, the tip of which extended just far enough to find its mark: two inches inside her enemy.
'Such a sword is a true work of art...' She heard the noise her weapon made and wriggled just a little in sadistic glee. Like liquid being supped noisily through a drink's straw, the exsanguination of the man before her echoed into her ears! '-and in the right hands is more deadly than anything known to man!'
By the time she'd finished her soliloquy, the gun-toting commoner held the consistency of a handkerchief perched upon the tip of her sword; she'd imbibed him right down to a loose piece of leather that she tossed aside with a studied, well-practised flick of her wrist!
She span to continue her hunt just as the last of the gang slammed the car door, allowing Parker's getaway vehicle to speed away; Cordelia sneered just a little, it seemed her quest would go on longer still!
She was confronted by the last man, but he meant so little that she stared right through him. More precisely she stared through the cleave her rapier made down the middle of him as he ran at her from the road.
The nobody she had cleanly bisected parted around the Lady in Latex as she stepped out into the road, not a drop or hint allowed to besmirch her. With all the human obstacles expunged for now, Cordelia gave an artful flick that withdrew her sword back into her sapient glove.
'~Hmph!~' She huffed and sent out a tendril to scoop up a dropped cellphone. Her liquid partner squirmed around and into the device as she lifted it to her lips; with a little improvisation she was satisfied and so she spoke...
'How many people are you going to line up between yourself and I, you trembling coward?' She demanded, knowing full well it was being heard by the right person. Truly these new powers she had claimed allowed anything she could imagine with the right approach!
Insulting and threatening Spider-Man was one thing, but she needed a means to give chase and a sound approaching from behind offered exactly she needed!
With the slightest of squats, Lady Cordelia pounced; with improbable flexibility she rolled through the air and landed exactly where she intended: side-saddle on the back seat of a speeding motorbike!
The sports bike predictably jolted in response, the front wheel throwing itself into the air and the rider backwards into his passenger's waiting arms. 'What a delightful getup!' She commented warmly as the man in his biker leathers fell into her embrace, an embrace that tightened until she could feel the crumpling between her glistening, tensed forearms.
He began to dissolve, writhing in agony as her tendrils crushed and penetrated, taking him within and without, squeezing him down into her hard, thirsty body!
With the kind of balance and reactions nobody else could possess, her Ladyship carefully meted out the absorption of her benefactor to carefully bring the bike back under control, imbibing his last atoms the moment the front wheel touched the street once more.
The bike rolled on as she balanced, idling while she manipulated her living lacquer's mind to unravel the secrets of this machine from the instruction manual of her latest victim's experience.
It took a few moments, but she soon crossed her arms confidently; she sent long, prehensile feelers out to operate the machine and lifted the cellphone once more to her lips. 'I'm coming for you.' She purred. What fun! What fun!
3rd Avenue...
From the back seat, laid out and hurting, Peter Parker watched the taxi driver madly fumble with the controls on the car radio; nothing he did worked: she was still talking to him through it!
'You must know by now that there is nowhere to run, no dark hole to crawl into where you might escape me!' Lady Cordelia purred through the car's speakers. The driver smashed at it, tried to break it, but she was undeniable!
'The longer you draw this out, the more worthless little people are going to die in your stead.' He heard the approach of a high powered engine somewhere behind the car and felt a looming sense of dread rise up from the pit of his stomach.
'How does that kind of collateral feel...?' A motorbike pulled up beside the window and side-saddle upon it, to Spidey's absolute horror, sat that vicious woman with a phone held up to her mouth; she was staring straight at him! '-hero!?'
With a casual toss, she threw the expensive phone away and accelerated. Peter tried to get up, tried to do hurry towards the driver's compartment, but all he did was give himself a front-row seat and a chance to get his face painted.
In the blink of an eye, Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant's fist snapped out, bored a hole right through the driver's head via the window and then withdrew. Peter felt the splatter hit his face like a bucket of warm sick, but even as his own vomit tried to rise up and escape his lips, he knew he had to brace!
The bike vanished behind the car mere moments before it skidded wildly, slammed into a parked vehicle and careened into a violent barrel-roll! Had the driver not already been dead, this would have done the trick; Spidey on the other hand was resilient enough to go on!
He wasn't invincible however and even he felt the impacts as he bounced around the inside of the car before getting violently thrown through the windshield!
He was in the air, free-falling with no webbing to stop himself, it was a moment that felt like it would go on and on; it didn't: He was violently interrupted by the lifted front wheel of her Ladyship's motorcycle!
He felt himself get slammed to the ground and a moment later the back wheel followed the front in riding over him to crush his already broken ribcage even more!
The wind was forced out of him; at this point Peter wondered how he was still alive. Before he'd even rolled to a stop, he heard the screeching of tires as she span around and came back at him!
He tried to push himself up, but Cordelia's spinning, ripping treads had shredded his pecs. He got up as far as his elbows when she hit him from behind, riding up his back like a ramp and slamming his head into the tarmac beneath her wheels!
In amongst the sound of the engine, he could have sworn he heard dark, evil laughter pouring salt on his wounds. The screeching of tires once more, but the revs didn't follow.
The bike idled some 5 metres away and when Peter finally forced himself up, almost ready to cry, he found Cordelia sat waiting behind her piercing headlight. Doom... he felt a growing sense of doom!
'I know you're craven, Spider-Man, but such is my magnanimity that I'm willing to offer you one last chance at chivalry!' He struggled up at she spoke, he didn't know what he was going to do, but things looked very, very bad right now!
He managed to get to his feet through great pain and stood defiant before his tormentor; he squinted to look past the headlight and for his troubles was rewarded with the sight of a lance, easily three metres in length!
'The ancient knightly pursuit of jousting!' She announced, sending a shiver down Spidey's spine. His half-step back was like a starter's pistol to the wild woman on her mount; he turned, he tried to run, but on barely working legs, he couldn't escape the fierce tip of his predator's deadly weapon!
He felt the tear of his flesh as her Ladyship's lance carved through him with woeful precision! He felt the tip for just the briefest of moments, but he felt every inch of the rest of it too, run through him all the way up to the hilt!
'BLARGH!' He exclaimed, spitting blood through his hood as he felt the ground vanish beneath his feet; he was held aloft like a trophy by the victorious Lady in black.
He fell limp, penetrated and dangling from the girth of Lady Cordelia's lance as she skidded to a halt.
He could just about manage to turn his head as Cordelia calmly kicked down the stand. '~Mhmhmhmhm!~' He heard her chuckle as his whole body began to twitch, 'Of course you don't know the rules.' She quipped with that ever-present air of arrogant disdain.
He growled at her, the very fact that she found this funny cut through to his core, '-this is what happens when you allow yourself to be a clueless lummox, Parker!' Even the way she said his name... now, for the first time when she'd mortally wounded him... it made him feel so insulted and humiliated!
With a hop, she got off, lifting the weapon she that he dangled from above her. He reached out and spat blood angrily at her, but he was helpless, impaled and entirely at her mercy! 'I'll... stop you!' He exclaimed, not an ounce of surrender in him.
'~Aha... AHAHAHAHA!~' Her mouth widened more and more as she roared, '~AHAHAHAHAAAA!~' She cackled, her face twisting into the most brutal and cruel expression he'd ever seen!
'You... You actually think you're going to live to see daybreak!' She laughed through every word, 'You haven't realised, have you?!' She curled her talon-capped fingers as if unable to control her delight. 'You were already dead the moment I laid eyes on you!'
No! It wasn't so cut and dried! He still had fight in him and for everything right in the world he was going to fight... to the very end! Cordelia cut his thought off by pulling down her lance, planting her boot on his gut and shunting him forcefully off it to the ground.
'You pathetic little shit!' She insulted him, the scorn... it just never stopped! In all his years doing this he'd never once met a person so full of venom, so twisted and spiteful... Of all people why did she have to be the only one capable of besting him?! The absolute worst person he'd ever met and she was the one with that power!
She was approaching, but even still he wanted to roll out of the growing puddle of his own blood; he felt so cold, so very cold, but this couldn't be the end! He would stand and fight... He would... He tried... He couldn't.
He thought he had time, but then she was here, stood over him with hands on hips grinning! 'I've had a wonderful time slaying you, Spider-Man! An absolutely delightful evening spent with hateful company!' She purred and swooned, very pleased with herself and what she had done to him.
'And since we've gotten so close this last hour or so... I'm going to let you in on a little secret...' She bent forwards at the waist to show off her huge rack and the white spider emblem like his own pasted over the front of it. 'See this symbol?'
'I'm going to make this iconic!' She promised with energy, 'Make it the very symbol of haute couture... imitated around the world...' Her expression changed from excitement to anger. 'But as of this moment... It still has the connotations of an uncultured mongrel in a jumpsuit!'
'That goes for my lovely new dress too...' She tilted her head to the side and acted almost sorry 'I know everything about your life... Your horrid little girlfriend, your cluttered little hovel, even your worthless side-job...' She leant a little closer, alien costume creaking and moaning all the way.
'Do you know how all that makes me feel?' She asked, but Peter couldn't even respond, shivering and cold, bleeding out. 'It makes me want to defecate!' She concluded with brutal, vulgar honesty.
'I want to purge myself of every memory I've been forced into absorbing from you! I need a detox! So to answer your question from earlier... about what my “problem is”... My problem is that I've been besmirched by your very existence!' She hissed, baring her teeth in disgust.
She stood up tall, the black alien squeaking and popping like fetishwear as she did. '~And that's why you have to die!~' She sang, celebrating the fact, 'But since I've ultimately destroyed everything below your neck and have earned a big payoff, there's only one way we're going to do this!'
She took a step forwards and Peter found himself helpless to do anything except look up in the dark recesses of her short, tight dress. She wasn't going to do... surely...!
A light... two lights... pure white and growing into something like twisted... alien... eyes! Then fangs... opening in the darkness as if the gates of hell were staring back!
He tried to scream, but all he could do was inhale!
Columbia Street...
Divine, vital energy swept through the tense, voluptuous body of Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant the moment her fangs perforated the skull and jaw of the vanquished; her body filled with the radioactive plunder her exploits had begotten!
Her tongue vibrated in her open mouth as she gasped at the air. At the other extreme of her muscular torso, each potent tense of her overpowering pelvic floor drew the thick and delicious spoils of victory inside her.
Her gloved hands rested on the collapsed ribcage of Spider-Man, the jagged remnants of his broken bones a reminder of the journey that had brought her here. Her supremacy was unequivocal, inarguable from the very start; but it had been the pursuit that had made this such a worthy prize!
The fangs of her expansive, predatory womanhood pillaged the hero with vampiric zeal, exsanguinating liters every time she clenched; she felt every drop coursing into her, empowering her like never before!
The broken ribcage shrapnel between her fingers became more and more pronounced as the man to whom they belonged thinned like dry-cured ham; it wasn't enough though! She thirsted for the chunks too and her trend-setting murder weapon was more than happy to provide!
Cordelia felt the tongue projected from her fanged maw squirm about inside Spider-Man to her command, every inch of it giving the feedback of her most sensitive nerve cluster.
Her corrosive sexual juices aided her in breaking those chunks down until all she sensed, each time she tensed, were almost gummy lumps that served to further heighten her ecstasy!
'~Ha haaah?~' She almost questioned the sudden surge that rippled upwards and outwards, an orgasmic wave beyond anything she'd imagined! Finally... After an hour of keeping her lisencious rubber suit gagging and begging for her blessing, the time had finally come to baptise it!
Habitually, naturally, her hips thrust and twitched with machine gun-like rapidity and each one drew more and more of her prey's shredded matter to prolong and enhance her orgasm!
She could feel the alien chugging, sucking, gasping and drowning on the full force of her unrestrained climax added to the sudden surge of all Spider-Man once was; it throbbed, it pulsed and it writhed but once she was quite done it did very little at all!
Fucked drippy, her now over-fed alien slave barely managed to stay clung to her, but the handful of black matter Cordelia grabbed and squeezed reminded it to thank her for everything.
When finally her climax subsided and her Ladyship regained her composure, she looked down to the thin, harmless fabric of Spider-Man's empty suit dangling between her powerful, alien latex-glazed fingers.
Her real tongue slipped out far enough to lick across her glistening, smooth upper teeth and she allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction.
Once more displaying her superhuman flexibility, at odds with her large and muscular form, Lady Cordelia swept up from her knees onto her extreme heels. She clutched the late hero's now vacant costume tightly between her hands, straining it until it began to tear apart.
She breathed it in: the emptiness, the body odour afterglow where a man had once existed... but now he was dead! Not just dead, but fully, irreversibly devoured down to the basest atomic level!
'~Mhmhmhm!~' She chuckled and looked over to a nearby alleyway and a convenient trash can therein, that would be fitting! She had no further words to spare for the fallen plebeian, not another thought to waste on the crime against fashion she held between her hands. She did have swagger to spare however and she unleashed it with every step towards the the backalley!
With swelling contempt and a full payload of viciousness, she whipped the costume down into the trashcan and laughed as she did so; it fell heavy over the lip, half-binned and half dangling, but that almost made it all the sweeter! Spider-Man, a mere purged memory now, wasn't even worth the effort of trashing properly!
Here lay the monument to a self-proclaimed hero: cheap, torn rags decoratively splayed upon rotten food and rat droppings. This was what Lady Cordelia made of Spider-Man.
With hands set to dancing all over her dress, Lady Cordelia strutted back towards the motorbike she had claimed and sighed with reinvigorated excitement, glad that was over.
She thought back to her bike's former rider; this victory called for a little celebratory shape-shifting! Biker leathers... now there was something she'd like to try on!
The slippery, living latex of her dress surged out and swam around with slick, bewitching feelers. Self-propelled tendrils embraced every bare inch of skin from her neck down to her toes and she stopped beside the bike to glance at herself in a darkened window.
As delightful as this skintight one-piece was, the white emblem alone being eye-catching left her feeling a little under-dressed. With a thought and a command, she manipulated her living body paste and remade the symbol out of fake pearls.
She drew ornate pearlescent trim to accentuate her figure even further and topped it all off with more ornate fake pearl spiders on her boots and gloves.
She'd settle for the fakes for now, she could and would source more to bedazzle her suit with later, an idea that brought feedback she could feel! Her suit rippled with glee, thanking her how a cat might: expressing its love by rubbing itself over her. Her suit... her pet!
Her lips puckered as she revelled in her own curvaceous musculature picked out in perfect detail by the wonderously flattering costume, she looked how she felt: better than ever! She would say she felt young again, but she'd never felt this strong, nobody had! She was so agile, so flexible, so potent and with it she was ravenous!
She swung her leg over the seat and rolled her hips a little before firing it up; the rumbling when she did so just enhanced the tight embrace of her costume over her bristling skin. With a gentle nibble of her lip she raced away from the scene of the crime.
Chinatown...
Lady Cordelia could feel her body-hugging servant's delight as she rode at frightening speeds through the near-empty streets, ducking and weaving through traffic as the gravity of its newfound freedom to worship its possessive wearer seemed to dawn on the extraterrestrial.
Its agitation ripened alongside her own when she got to thinking about what she would do now; it seemed delighted to know that this was not the end, that her murder of its threatening former wearer had been merely a formality before the first step!
Now she was free to employ her new powers for endless selfish gain with nobody any the wiser! Freedom to pillage and plunder without remorse or restraint and revel in the riches of her antisocial behaviour; that was who she was: an exploiter and a monster!
There wasn't an ounce of remorse in her body for the things she did nor the things she planned to do, she'd just give a few million to charity or start up some non-profit to make herself look like an angel before she got back to ravaging the world.
It was the done thing: rapaciously exploit and destroy then give a few pennies to the poor and pose in front of a camera; for the rich being bad was so very, very easy!
But first things first she needed money, lots of money! Her own fortune had dwindled to alarmingly low levels, but where to start?
Perhaps she could rob a bank? Her costume purred.
Mayhap brainwash and bankrupt a new money millionaire? Her rubber squirmed gleefully.
A little organised crime perchance? The alien almost screamed in excitement!
All her plotting almost distracted her from a problem, one that the alien costume just about picked up on as they sped towards a crossing; Cordelia slammed on the brakes and span the back end around to avoid a collision!
Sliding around the blind corner, she spotted the vehicle she'd almost slammed into and a wicked grin immediately painted itself across her face! Her luck really was changing to stumble so haphazardly upon a coasting stretched limousine that undoubtedly ferried her kind of people!
As she bike slid to a halt, she allowed the momentum to fling her up into a high-side; Cordelia artfully flipped through the air like a gymnast from a trampoline.
She came down with her immense heels first and smashed through the sunroof to land in a low squat, her knees so far apart she was virtually doing the splits!
The shocked gasps and discontented faces of a couple in some actually presentable designer clothing told her all she needed to know!
Her costume swirled to life, leaping out with invasive, powerful tendrils to snag and smother, coiling up the couple in mere moments as Cordelia gently sat back on her haunches in the wide, luxurious footwell.
'Good evening.' She purred, oozing sophisticated presence. 'You don't mind if I hitch a ride.' She stated, not asked.
With one smooth, almost liquid motion she twirled up and around to approach the glass divider between them and the driver's cabin as the darkened window slowly wound down.
With just a little force, her Ladyship rammed the window down and before the driver could even hope to peer back, she leant through and wrapped her living rubber-caked hand across his nose and mouth!
He jolted, but his resistance didn't last long once Cordelia had pressed her lips against his ear and whispered 'I didn't tell you that you could peek!' She made sure he could hear the saliva swishing around her mouth as her tongue slid out and moistened his earlobe.
She watched his eyes rise to the rear-view mirror where he could undoubtedly see the man of the house bound and gagged on the back seat.
What he couldn't see was the woman of the house pressed into the seat beneath Cordelia, her face buried deep into her Ladyship's hips; Cordelia's thighs had already pulsed their dark menace into all the deepest depths of the girl writhing under he.
The chauffeur received a similar treatment, gifted her invasive black liquids through the whole of his airways. The salivating aural stimulation; the smooth, warm caress of living latex; the invasive assault... It was all so overstimulating that he was beginning to surrender before the brainwashing had even begun!
'You belong to me...' She whispered, really pushing what she could make her new costume do, how much she could make it obey and fulfil her wishes. It couldn't quite complete a brainwashing that easily, but she did have a solution: '~MmmMMmmm!~'
She moaned and then grew her tongue like a coiled snake, punching it into his auditory canal and making short work of his ear-drum en route to his juicy, impressionable brain!
She'd felt the delight of her costume drinking brains, but nothing could prepare her for the taste itself! It was sweet and yet salty, thick and aromatic as if the same shape-shifting alien influence that allowed her entry also cultivated its flavor!
Her tongue traced across the folds of his mind, feeling every bump and dimple as she savoured his unique but exquisite vintage how she would sample fine wine. Truly a palate as refined as Cordelia's was required to truly appreciate this experience.
She'd wondered, as she'd played with the bodies and pieces of her prey until now... quite how much she could pick and choose what she left behind. This man, moderately useful as he was, would make the perfect lab rat!
Her tongue tip gently flicked, it trimmed off a neural lobe then throbbed around it to suck it out, pulsing down the inside of her tongue into her mouth; another lobe followed, then another.
By the time she finally allowed him to breathe and retracted her tongue, she had eaten a good quarter of his grey-matter and relished every bite! Her hand slid off his face and down his chest as she watched his expression turn increasingly blank; she waited a few more moments to discover if she'd succeeded or had surgically reduced him to a vegetable.
He suddenly inhaled as if coming back to his senses and smiled before looking her way. 'Apologies, Ma'am. It was very rude of me to pry.' Lady Cordelia puckered her lips naughtily, charmed by her latest triumph.
'There's a good boy! I knew that eating just a little of your brain wouldn't do any lasting damage.' She whispered in lisencious delight before sliding backwards out of the window. 'Drive on, Chauffeur!' She commanded and watched the window begin to rise once more.
She span around on the chair to look at the male passenger, an act she couldn't have done were she still sitting on his wife's face.
Fortunately his wife no longer existed to cause that problem, she was nothing but atoms, supped smoothly and gradually into Lady Cordelia's alien womanhood; a little entreé to sustain her motivation while lobotomizing their driver.
'Now then...' She smiled and reached over to a glass of champagne, 'I think introductions are in order, don't you?' She asked the gagged man. 'I...' She raised a hand flamboyantly '-am Lady Cordelia Caldwell Grant, a woman of highest birth and greatest dignity!' She vaingloriously pronounced.
She clicked her fingers and the man she addressed gasped for air, ungagged just like that. 'Y-You killed Katie!' Cordelia tutted and rolled her eyes, turning back to her drink for another sip.
'I certainly did.' She answered definitively, 'How can you be my dutiful, unquestioning donor if I allow you to believe that there is any other woman for you?' Yes, this plan was coming together nicely and given the size of the car, this gentleman was clearly worth the effort.
'Your... donor...?' He gulped in such a way as to tempt Cordelia into action; she placed down her glass as the car gently moved through the streets.
'Hmm, perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot...' She extended a finger, quite literally: her dark matter leapt the length of the cabin and snagged him; a flick and he carreened through the air into her waiting arms.
She cushioned his landing and released his bindings, the shocked man left looking up into the harshly glamorous eyes of his captor. '-but if you're on your best behaviour I'll let you get off on my foot!' She purred, '~MmMMMmm~ You'd make a lovely little boot-humping mutt!'
'Wha-what do you want from me?' He asked and gulped again as he felt Lady Cordelia's slick, gloved hand slide under his belt.
'Your money, your home, your possessions, your mind, your soul... Do you own anything else?' She asked playfully and tilted his head back to stuff his windpipe with her superpowered glossa, enjoying the way he gagged and bucked as she worked him top and bottom.
She retrieved her tongue after tasting his lungs and gasped while licking her lips, 'The point is that I don't care what you think is yours... because everything you are, were or will ever be...' He whimpered as his Lady made him cum, '-belongs to me!'
Brooklyn Heights...
The gentle buzz of a message from the driver pulled Lady Cordelia out of the moment as she realised they had arrived; she looked down to the man laid virtually unconscious over her lap and smiled as she saw the drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
It hadn't been the longest journey, but it had been long enough to push her limits even further!
She'd discovered that she didn't need to entirely lobotomize her prey to get what she wanted, instead a continual and relentless assortment of mental, physical and psychological dominance would do the trick when enhanced by her delightful, currenly undulating alien costume.
'Wake up.' She whispered and the man slowly stirred, coming too and smiling up at her from her lap, 'It's time to show me the home you're giving me, my dear “Husband”.' She purred, that was the trick and it had worked a charm.
This man now wholly believed that Lady Cordelia was his wife and that she meant the world to him, he was like putty in her hands! She decided it was time to get more comfortable now that she was stepping inside.
She inhaled slowly and the swell of her chest appeared to make her suit gently peel open across her cleavage, the neck held closed by a chain of pearls across the collar, it was all for show, but it thrilled Cordelia nonetheless.
She shifted him off her knee as the door opened and she was more than ready to step outside; what she found was not what she had expected. They were still in an urban area, a barely upper-class one at that!
She looked at the house she was presumably going to claim and raised the corner of her mouth into a sneer. 'Park the car.' She barked at the chauffeur, but he stammered in response, just as she had feared.
'Don't tell me, it's a rental.' He simply nodded apologetically. Cordelia sighed, 'Fine, go drive yourself into the ocean somewhere remote then!' He nodded with the same energy as her captive donor slave stumbled out onto the sidewalk.
'This is it?' She asked, looking at a house that can't have been worth more than $3 Million on a good day.
'Yes, my Lady. It really is rather nice on the inside!' He responded quite confidently and offered to take her hand; she ignored him and walked with a lissom, swaying swagger towards the front door.
Up the stairs she pranced as her “husband” hurried by to open the door; he stood attentively and bowed as if welcoming her in with all the grace he had. She'd left him his mind so that at least as a gentleman he was worthy, even if he was basically a peasant in her eyes.
Lady Cordelia stepped potently inside as she lights flicked on one by one; she cast her eyes across the glass and modern furnishings and allowed herself a slight smile. The area in front of her was wide open, welcoming and somehow slightly warm despite its modern style.
'What a delightful entry hall!' She stated and took a few more steps before realising something was wrong. 'Except... it's not the entry hall.' She sighed as she saw the kitchen, the living room... area... and more all spread out across this space. It was an open-plan living area!
She half-turned to glance at the man responsible for this calamity and her lip twitched in disgust. 'To think I wasted an hour brainwashing you!' She hissed and walked away towards the living room.
'Run me a bath and then you have permission to come and rub my feet!' She instructed clearly and concisely, her earlier estimate had been accurate: this place was not fit for a woman of her standing! She could probably squeeze five million out of this guy, but he'd have to make up the rest with his undying attention and adoration!
She didn't need a house like this, even as a safehouse or overnight stay, so maybe she could just have him sell everything and live in a cardboard box. That way she could milk every last drop from him; she felt her tight and ornate alien costume toy with all her favourite spots, it was very easily pleased.
She sat herself down on the modernist sofa and reclined into it; despite it all, she smiled. It might not be worth much, but this was hers now too. Besides, she'd had a wonderful evening and the only way was up!
As she sat enjoying the constant attentions of her living costume, the man of the house finally returned with a glass of wine for her. 'Ah... Your finest, I presume?' She cradled the glass and took in its scent with closed eyes, it wasn't quite as cheap as the stuff in the limo, but it was hardly a great vintage.
'Come here...' She concluded after sipping the wine and beckoning him with her now bare fingers. As soon as he got within reach, her hand whipped out, snagged the back of his head and pulled him into her gaping cleavage.
'You disappoint me...' She calmly chastised him as he squirmed, suffocating between her huge, ridiculously firm boobs, 'Cheap house... cheap wine... rental car... It's all merely smoke and mirrors; you're just a peasant playing at affluence!'
She began to smile again; she wasn't bitterly disappointed and the revelation this modest home wouldn't ruin her evening, but there was more than one way to get her kicks...
'It's going to be a long, painful night for you, my sweet! Once I've had my bath I'm going to put you through a ringer you'll never forget!' She licked her lips and tensed her chest; her firm face-trap slammed together and almost cracked her “husband's” head like a melon.
Her faint smile became a wicked grin; his head started to bounce as her chest jiggled with laughter. Oh yes, that would be a delightful way to end a truly special night!