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Hello!  I actually don't have a whole lot to say about this except I hope you appreciate the pun(?) in the title.  It was either that or Omo-zing Spider-Man.  I think Pee-tacular is just a bit more fun.  I really hope you enjoy this because I had a lot of fun making it!

 

Buildings race past me; the wind whips against the fabric of my suit and cuts through to the skin beneath. The scent of the dozens of different restaurants, grimy streets, the exhausts of cars gridlocked in traffic, and every other New York odor mingle in the air, and from this height, it almost smells pleasant. Not that I could enjoy it. Well, not completely. It is a little difficult to completely squander the thrill of hurtling through the skyline from twenty stories up. A different sort of adrenaline had my attention now.

“Oh, man, I am so late!” I call out to no one in particular. “I can’t believe I’m going to be late on the first day! What happened to this semester being different?” My mind races almost as fast as my body swings through the air. I should NOT have stayed out on patrol so late last night. I completely forgot to set an alarm this morning. Classic Parker luck. Well, on the bright side, nothing quite beats the Spider-express, except maybe whatever Captain Marvel calls her morning commute.

Oh right.  I guess I should probably introduce myself, right? My name is Peter Parker, and for the past eighteen years, my life has been a montage of getting shoved into lockers, picked on, and uh… well, let’s just say even before I started wearing the red and blue onesie I carried around an extra change of clothes. 

The bottom line is I wasn’t exactly living the life. Then everything changed over the summer when I got bit by a radioactive spider—and I know what you are thinking, but it’s not because I got super radiation poisoned… venomed? I mean, I did get bit so—never mind! 

My life changed because I got superpowers! Kind of unbelievable, right? Now I’d love to be able to tell you that I immediately used my newfound abilities to be a hero, but it took losing someone very important to me to learn that with great power must also come great responsibility. Now to honor my Uncle Ben I step up and fight crime as Spider-Man! 

There’s been a bit of a learning curve, but I feel like I’m really starting to get the swing of being a hero. I’m waiting on that Avengers invitation to arrive any day now.  Right now, though? I’m just trying to step it up and make it to school on time. It’s the first day of senior year, and I am determined to turn things around the year. If I can be spectacular as Spider-Man, then why can’t I be amazing as Peter Parker? 

I mean, it’s not like the muscles the spider gave me are going to hurt my reputation, and the proportionate strength of a spider seems to have completely fixed my other, uh, issue. Yeah, this year is going to be SPECTACULAR!

“Hello, Midtown High!” I swing lower and somehow manage to evade anyone seeing me slip in through a bathroom window.  Not much time to change. Better just slip in on over the suit and hope Flash doesn’t try to give me a wedgie for old time’s sake.  I slip into a stall, thankful that no one was around to see Spider-man sneak into a bathroom. The last thing I need is J. Jonah Jameson spreading that Spider-man is some pervert peeking tom.  

I kick off my boots, and remove my mask and gloves and tuck them away at the bottom of my backpack. Pulling on my jeans is a bit clumsier in the small space, but the ability to stick to walls comes in handy while I tug them up to my waist. The button-up is a lot easier to put on for obvious reasons, and before long, I go from what some would call a “red and blue eyesore that is offensive to the law it pretends to protect as it is to the eyes” (Thanks for that Jameson) and become just a mild-mannered high school student. Correction, a brilliant and newly super attractive high school student. 

Of course, it’s only after I’m completely dressed that I realize I haven’t used the bathroom this morning. Hold on. I haven’t taken a shower either. I sniff at my armpits awkwardly. Oh, thank god the suit masks my scent. I check my hair in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. It’s messy, of course. But honestly? I think it looks a bit better this way.  New year, new me.  I think to myself as I leave the bathroom.

It’s amazing how immediate the reaction to my glow up is. I can feel their eyes on me as they follow me in disbelief. It’s not long before I hear them whisper. “Wait, is that Peter?” “What happened to him?” “Did he seriously get hot?” I can’t even try to hide the smile that forms on my face. It bears repeating: this year is going to be-

“Well, if it isn’t Pee Pants Parker.” I know that voice.

The smile melts off my face as I turn to face the golden-haired king of the school, my one-time friend, longer time bully, Flash Thompson.  Didn’t he use to tower over me? And I swear his arms used to be the size of tree trunks. This is the guy who tormented me?  We might be on the same level vertically now, but I can tell that Flash still didn’t see me as anything other than the same pants-wetting nerd he had been shoving into lockers only a few months ago.  

“Looks like Puny Parker hired a personal trainer.” He sneers. “Hope you got potty trainer too.” He tries to push me. I don’t move. 

His sneer turns to a grimace. “Well, listen here, you might not be the same scrawny kid you were last year, but you will always be a pants-wetting weirdo.”  

“Knock it off, Flash.” A lean, dark-haired boy in very expensive clothes calls out. Harry Osborn, my own personal white knight. Ever since his dad hired me to tutor him freshman year, he’s always stuck up for me. Even if I didn’t need him to anymore, I couldn’t help but grin. “Get to class. We’re going to be late.” He ushers the jock away from me, flashing a smile at me as he does so.

Flash was wrong. I’m not a “pants-wetting weirdo” anymore. Even if I do kind of have to pee. I’m Spider-Man now, and if I can clean up the streets of Manhattan, then how hard can it be to fix my reputation as a high school student? I mean, that confrontation went OK, right? I stood up the Flash mostly. Yeah, this is going to be easy.  

 

 

By the time fifth period rolls around, I begin to wonder how well the proportionate strength of a spider really applies to holding back a sea of urine. Do arachnids even bother holding back waste? 

Do spiders pee? All good questions. Perhaps not the best time to ask them. Even thinking about anything tangentially related to using the bathroom is killing me.  I’m trying not to bounce in my seat while our history teacher drones on about what we will be learning this year. 

I promise I am usually a better student but—gah! I can’t take it anymore.

“Mr. Maxwell.”  I try to raise my arm nonchalantly. 

“Mr. Parker, what can I do for you.” He breaks from his speech cooly.  

“May I use the restroom?” I know he’s not an English teacher, but I am not risking getting caught up in the “can I” versus “may I” debate.  

“You better let him.” Someone jeers from the back of the class. “Never know when Peter might make another puddle.”  

My ears and cheeks burn at the laughs that accompany him.  This year will be different.  I try to tell myself.  It will be.

“That’s quite enough of that.” Mr. Maxwell snaps. “Yes, Parker, you may use the restroom.” He gestures towards the door kindly.  

“Thank you.”  I mutter. I dart out of the room. Maybe a bit too quickly.  Man!  I’m really not making my case here, am I? 

No. It’s fine. Just use the restroom. Everyone pees. It’s not a big deal.  I take a deep breath to calm myself, but it just seems to agitate my bladder. “Stupid,” I mumble to myself as I stagger to the nearest bathroom. At least no one else is in the hall to see my potty dance.  

I burst through the bathroom door, dash towards a urinal, unzip my jeans, and—no! My spider-sense blares! I have my stupid suit on! It takes all of my spider strength to keep from unleashing my bladder into my suit.  My knees bend to brace myself; I curl over at my waist and tremble, fighting back the flood from escaping. A moment passes, and I manage to collect myself enough to stumble into a stall.  Before I can even begin trying to take my suit off, my spider-sense rings again. A couple of seconds later and two boys enter the bathroom. 

There’s no way I can take off my suit without risking them seeing it.  Would it kill schools to build stalls without big gaps under the door and between the walls? Who even thinks that’s a good idea?  I sit on the toilet and rest my head in my hands. My luck would be hilarious if it didn’t feel so miserable.  

I tug down my jeans just enough to create the illusion I’m actually using the bathroom without showing my suit. Literally, being on the toilet is hell! Pulling down my pants just adds salt to the wound. I hunch over and bite my tongue to keep from groaning. My fingers are stabbing into my thighs like daggers. My toes press into the floor hard enough I worry that I might break the cheap ceramic tiles. I feel like I have an ocean inside of me. A stormy, stormy ocean with lots of crashing waves and—stop thinking about water!

It takes until I collect myself a bit to realize the boys aren’t even using the bathroom. They are just hanging out at the sink and talking. Did I tell you my luck sucks?  Alright, I can take a hint, universe.  I pull out toilet paper, feign wiping, performatively flush the toilet and leave the stall. The boys don’t even break conversation while I wash my hands to keep up appearances.

This is a terrible idea.  I grimace as the hot water splashing off my hands, taunts my bursting bladder. My knuckles are white. I quickly scrub my hands clean and leave the bathroom. My gait isn’t exactly what you would call natural, but it’s maybe passable. 

This is going to be a long day.  

Sixth period goes by, and I mostly manage to regain my composure. The desperation ebbs and flows. It hits me like waves—Stop using water terms, Peter!  I’ve all but given up using the bathroom. I can’t rely on it being safe, and if I go near another toilet, I don’t think I will be able to recover again. I just need to make it through the day. I bounce my legs underneath my desk like I’m trying to get a high score on Dance Dance Revolution. I hope no one notices.  

Seventh period, physics, rolls around, and I am assigned at the same table as Liz Allen.   Liz Allen! On any other day, I’d be ecstatic to be seated with the girl I’ve had a crush on since freshman year. Not when I’m bursting to pee, though! I sit silently next to her. My face staying completely focused on the front of the room. I feel all my muscles coil up tightly to keep myself still. My fists, which are clenched tight enough to crush coal into diamonds, sit on my lap.  Am I sweating? I feel like I’m sweating.  

I must look like the most attentive student in the class. Too bad I don’t hear a single thing our teacher says. I’m too busy repeating my new mantra in my head on constant repeat.  Come on, Spidey. You can do this, Spidey. Don’t wet yourself, Spidey. Come on, Spidey. You can do this, Spidey. Don’t Wet yourself, Spidey.  I’ve fought muggers, carjackers, and gang members, but fighting off the urge to pee myself?  Now that’s an actual challenge.  

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I made it!  I’m free! I can leave!  I wasted no time in picking up my books and shoving them in my backpack. I was more than ready to race out of the classroom when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I stopped short.  

“Peter? 

Can we talk?” Liz Allen’s voice is as silky smooth as her dark hair probably was.  Is that how you describe a voice?  Is this weird? I turn to face her. Her dark chocolate eyes, her caramel skin, her ruby lips, her—OK Yeah, this is weird.  Stop being weird, Peter. Just be normal. Talk to her.

“Talk? With me, you wanna talk? Um, I mean sure. What do you wanna talk about?” Nailed it.

“I asked Ms. Lydia to sit me next to you.”  

“You uh, you did? Why?”  That sounded kind of rude. Oh great, and now my legs are bouncing. I hope she doesn’t think I’m being impatient. Or maybe I do? At the very least, I don’t want her to think I’m dying to pee. Which I am. Like a lot.  

“Yeah, I need to get my grades up to get into Empire State’s business school, and I was hoping you could maybe help.”

I chuckled despite myself. Really despite myself. I shuffled my feet awkwardly to contain the burst of pee that tried to take the opportunity to escape.  

“Don’t laugh.”  She frowns. “I know it’s not as ambitious as curing cancer or whatever you are going to do, but it’s important to me. I want to be able to change how pharmaceuticals operate—”

“No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just; you don’t exactly need to be a physics genius to get into business school.” I tried to recover from my mistake.

“I’m not asking you to turn me into a physics genius. I’m asking you to help me do well in it. This is an AP course, and the weight will bring up my GPA and help me stand out on college applications.”

“You’re right.  I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just surprised you’re asking me for help. I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“Of course, I knew you existed.” She laughs.  Right. Of course. Because I am Pee Pants Parker.  “You’re the smartest kid in school. Maybe the whole city. You’d be perfect as my tutor.” 

Wow.  “Wow.”  I don’t know what to say.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“You could say yes.” She smiles and makes a playful shrug.  

“Um, yeah, I can help you out if you really need it.”

“I really do!  Ms. Lydia said our first assignment would be Friday, so maybe Friday night you can come over to my house, and we can get started then?”  

“Friday?”  Liz Allen wants to spend a Friday night with me?  “Yeah, I think I can do that.”  

“Perfect!  It’s a date.” She twirls around on one foot and leaves me in her wake.  

“Did she say date?” I ask aloud. 

I wasn’t given much time to process what had just transpired before I feel a sudden rush of gushing warmth fill my boxers.  Oh god! Go! Go! Go!  I move in something between hopping, dancing, and running through the halls. I push my way through the sea of students who were no doubt amused to see yet another classic patented Parker Potty dance. Finally, I made my way to the roof of the school. 

No time to get changed. My shirt’s red, my jeans are blue. Close enough.  I unzip my backpack and reach for my mask. My legs shook. I struggle to shift through the books, loose papers, boots, and gloves before finally unearthing my mask. I gasp. 

A hot spurt of pee escapes! I feel it trail down my leg. It doesn’t show through my jeans. I wonder if it showed through my suit? I pull the mask on haphazardly and begin my perilous race through the city. 

If you ever find yourself bit by a radioactive spider, let me warn you; web-swinging on a full bladder is so, so, so not advisable. I think I can actually hear all the liquid sloshing around inside of me. It can’t just be in my bladder anymore. It’s all inside of me. I’m more urine than man or spider anymore. I don’t think I’ve ever been this desperate before. The proportionate strength of a spider just seems to mean that needing to pee is just more unbearable.  

I’ll admit it.  I think I have a certain style, a certain grace about me when I swing from webs. I don’t think I have any of that style or grace right now. I’m clumsy. Sluggish, during a time that I really can’t afford to be sluggish. My precise movements are now slow, late, missed. I have to compensate for every mistake, and it just feels like a cascade of failures.  No. Not a cascade. Something dry. A dry, not at all wet, something of failures. Oh no. It’s a little wet.

I grasp at my penis, trying to stop the rush of golden liquid as it spills out of me. The hot pee explodes out of me anyway.  It feels like waves of pee crash into me, splatter around my body as my swing throws it everywhere. I feel it gush across my butt and thigh. It creeps up my abdomen and rolls along my hips.  It sprays off of me, and golden drops and stream cascade from behind me.  

I reach the apex of my swing, and with one hand still groping myself, I begin to swing backward, fast enough to catch some of the droplets on my back and feel the stream continue forward, across my legs, and then up to my torso as I begin to swing upwards and backward. And then forward again. Before long, I’m just dangling in place, the last bit of pee trickling down my legs and towards the city below.  

The shock wears off, and I remove my hand from my groin. My palm is saturated with my own pee, and so is most of the sleeve. My jeans and shirt are almost completely soaked across every inch of fabric. I can feel small pools slosh around in my shoes. I look down and watch a few drops fall from my clothes to the street below. 

I am SO sorry to anyone below me. 

           I take a moment to process that I just briefly moonlit as a rain cloud. “Well, that just happened.” I take off for home. More than ready to get out of my wet clothes. It doesn’t take long before the warmth wears off, and all I’m left with is cold, wet fabric clinging to my skin. The wind whipping against me doesn’t feel as good as it did this morning. But hey, at least no one at school knows. AND I have a date with Liz! This day has its ups and downs, I suppose. And this year will still be spectacular.  

 

Spidey.thumb.png.29d40efc38eeb547c9a7827f84bf8e8f.png

 

I hope you enjoyed.  I'm trying a few new things here with the present tense and sort of conversational style of writing  So please let me know what you think.  

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  • 4 months later...

This was really amazing to read. My first wetting that started my whole omorashi fetish was actually on Halloween in a spider-man costume so there is definitely something special about that for me; however, that aside, the level of detail and imagination in describing the wetting and spider-man continued to swing through the air was just phenomenal. Really great story. Would love to read a sequel. Thanks for your writing!

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3 hours ago, dunnetahl said:

This was really amazing to read. My first wetting that started my whole omorashi fetish was actually on Halloween in a spider-man costume so there is definitely something special about that for me; however, that aside, the level of detail and imagination in describing the wetting and spider-man continued to swing through the air was just phenomenal. Really great story. Would love to read a sequel. Thanks for your writing!

Thank you!  I'm glad you enjoyed it.  I had a couple of ideas for follow-ups to this but it didn't feel like there was much interest in seeing more.

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