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When Spidey Met Oracle	By : littleblackduck Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Spiderman Views: 37996 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: The Spider-Man universe and characters are owned by Marvel. The Oracle universe and characters are owned by DC. I make no profit from this work. This is a sequel to "When Spidey Met Batgirl." I think you should read that first, but that might just be

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
CHAPTER SEVEN: Birds Do It...
Peter Parker had a million reasons to hate Norman Osborn.
The man had attempted to kill him on a number of occasions, obviously... Osborn had murdered Peter's college sweetheart after getting her pregnant... The bastard did everything possible to ruin Peter's friendship with Harry... The asshole buried Aunt May alive... Hell, the fucker had once convinced Peter he was a damn clone...
When one considered the fact that Osborn had spent so much of his time and considerable resources to making Spider-Man's life miserable, it seemed odd to quibble over the little things. This is why Peter Parker had never told anybody that personally, one of the things he hated most about his nemesis was the simple truth that Norman Osborn was a pretty shitty scientist.
The dude was the worst.
Osborn was, of course, completely convinced he was some genius, but it was plain to anybody with half a brain that he was a hack. It's not like he'd actually come up with the Goblin formula. No. He'd stolen it from Mendel Stromm, the legitimately brilliant business partner Norman tossed out on his ass out of greed. And when Osborn tried to create the serum from Stromm's notes, it blew up in his face. He was just lucky that the blast had given him super-strength instead of just killing him. Bad chemistry skills. That was the secret origin of Spider-Man's greatest enemy. The less technically inclined might almost be impressed with the weapons he'd whipped up for his campaign of crime as the Green Goblin, but come on. It didn't take a lot of brains to shove some explosives in a pumpkin. Oh, and Osborn found a way to zip around on a tiny jet engine? Big friggin' whoop. It wasn't exactly rocket science. Well, technically, it was rocket science, but really cheap and dirty rocket science...
Repulsor jet boots. That was real innovation. And Norman had stolen that, too, because he hadn't gotten any better at his craft with age. Repainting Iron Man's armor didn't take a lot of imagination. That stupid star-shaped uni-beam he'd come up with for the Iron Patriot suit actually compromised Stark's original design. A flaw Spider-Man took advantage of during one of their last encounters. That's what really pissed Peter off. Osborn was the kind of inventor who took good ideas and fiddled with them until they were stupid.
Take this dumbass "Deimos Engine" Normie had designed. It was actually pretty ambitious for a man of Osborn's limited scientific talent. Granted, he'd pretty much just ripped all this off, too, but it took some creativity to jam so many different ideas into one machine. Different ideas fleshed out by smarter men than Norman, obviously, but it was leaps and bounds above what Peter had seen from the man so far.
When Spider-Man was trying to deactivate the device, he'd figured out what it was supposed to do. Alchemical transmutation of steel into a mystical mineral with psychoactive properties. Kind of amazing. The initial harmonic burst would affect most of Manhattan, and the resultant vibrational shift would propagate outward. Like the vibranium cancer that almost destroyed Captain America's shield. Peter hadn't been able to recheck his cursory calculations, but he was pretty sure the effect could spread as far as Washington D.C. in the first 24-hours. Like he said, pretty ambitious.
So of course, Osborn fucked it up.
The engine wasn't creating the fear Norman had intended. No. It was drudging up another impulse entirely. Peter should know, he was feeling it now... Osborn clearly had failed to carry a one somewhere. That kind of thing tended to happen to shitty scientists who tried to integrate magic with technology. Victor Von Doom probably could have pulled this off, but Norman wasn't Victor Von Doom. Hell, Norman wasn't even Thaddeus Sivana. Sivana might have thought to account for the potential effect this type of thing would have on someone whose brain chemistry had been altered by a radioactive spider-bite. Why Osborn couldn't leave this type of thing to more qualified madmen was beyond him, but the web-head wasn't worrying about any of that now...
The idiot had made a friggin' lust machine. Spider-Man assumed Norman had done so by accident, but who really knew with that nutjob? Maybe Sex Orgy USA was part of the H.A.M.M.E.R. agenda. Whatever the case, the damn thing was doing a real number on Spidey's head. Both of them, so to speak. One minute, he'd been frantically trying to save the world from another one of Osborn's schemes and the next, all he wanted was sex. Peter could only hope the effect wouldn't be as intense on the average human. Otherwise, New York City was about to see one hell of a baby boom.
He really hoped Barbara had figured some of this out. Right now, she was the best chance of stopping all of this, but he couldn't have explained any of this to Oracle if he wanted to. Some part of him realized that the language center of his brain had been compromised by the machine, but that part of him -- the part that understood things like reason and logic -- was shrinking more and more as another part of Peter swelled.
Everything was falling away from him... His responsibility to Felicia... the revelation that Oracle had secretly been Batgirl this whole time... None of it mattered as all rational thought slipped from his mind. Right now, Spider-Man needed to do one thing and one thing only...
Huntress.
*
After she graduated from college, Melissa Coolridge decided to join up with S.H.I.E.L.D. because she was sure it'd be more exciting than working at her aunt's hair salon. But with a bachelor degree in zoology, the best entry-level position she could score was in the telecommunications division. Mel worked a switchboard for a living. Granted, it was one of the most technologically advanced switchboards ever created, but it was a switchboard nonetheless.
Melissa didn't know it, but in a few years, she would be head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s telecom-ops, running this entire department. During her tenure she would completely overhaul their workflow in a way that would cut response time across the globe from the average 7.2 minutes to a much more efficient 3.7. But it wasn't until that particular night in October that it first occurred to Agent Coolridge that her job could be even the least bit interesting.
That was the day her first Priority One message came in through the communications array.
"Oh shit," she cried as the screen in front of her flashed violently red. "Shit shit shit..." From what she remembered from the training seminar, the monitor only went red when a Priority One transmission came across the secure frequency. Priority One was generally reserved for high ranking calls. You know, like the President.
"This is Initiative Freelance Technical Operative #359," pronounced a deep, sonorous voice from The Red Screen of Death. "I need to speak with Commander Rogers immediately. I'm trying to go through the proper channels right now, rather than hacking your ridiculously insecure firewall for no other reason than I assume it will take less time for you to connect us if you don't have to figure out how I beat your security."
"Whuh-what the..." Agent Coolridge stuttered. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Right now, I'm the only person trying to stop the entire Eastern Seaboard from erupting in emotional turmoil," was the frightful response. "Get me Rogers. Now."
There was a click on the line. "For your information, TEC-359, I try to monitor all Priority One transmissions," Steve Rogers informed this skillful intruder. "This had better be important, or you're going to find the full weight of this organization bearing down on your shoulders."
"One of Norman Osborn's off-the-books projects is about to blow up in all of our faces," TEC-359 told him. "I have an agent in the field... someone you trust, Commander... but he's been compromised. Right now, he's the only chance we have of stopping this, but I need help if I'm going to get through to him."
"Who is this agent of yours?" Rogers asked.
"Spider-Man."
Melissa heard the Commander sigh with relief. "Thank god it's someone we can count on," he said. "What do you need TEC-359?"
"I need the most powerful telepath at your disposal."
"I'll have Charles Xavier on the line with you in 30 seconds," Rogers assured. "But TEC-359? We're going to talk about your breach of protocol..."
"I'll take whatever dressing down you need to give me, sir," TEC-359 replied. "Let's just save the day first..."
*
Huntress wasn't exactly sure how Spider-guy managed to web her to the wall. He was faster than he looked, that was for damn sure. Her crossbow was skittering across the floor before she realized he'd smacked it out of her hand. She was just about to grab that spare bo-staff strapped to her back, but then he was jumping toward her. He was stronger than she expected, too. When he shoved her into the wall it knocked the wind right out of her. By the time she'd caught her breath, she was bound at the wrists with his preposterous webbing.
He never should have been able to take her. She could make excuses about having just fought off a killer robot so soon after taking on an entire A.I.M. science squad or how stiff her muscles felt after that chilly airdrop, but she knew the truth. She'd underestimated him... and could you blame her? Who expects a geek in a full body stocking that corny to have moves? And his webbing, which looked so flimsy, was sturdier stuff than she could slip from.
He surged toward her then, and Huntress decided it was time to get back in the game. She braced against the wall with her webbed wrists and lashed out with her long, powerful legs, kicking him square in the chest. She knocked him right on his scrawny ass.
"Oracle?!" Huntress called out, but there was still no response from her comm-link. And Spider-guy was already back on his feet and coming at her all over. She tried to boot him again, but he expected it this time. He snagged her ankles effortlessly, like he knew exactly where she would kick out. Soon her legs were pinned to the wall with webbing as well, spread just far enough apart to keep her feet off the ground.
Helena had this eerie suspicion where this was all heading, but this was a Birds of Prey kind of thing and she was trying to hold out hope that her usual cynicism wasn't required. Then his creepy spidery-fingers started fumbling for her tits.
"Ooooh my god!" she gasped as he grasped them. "I swear, if you don't knock that off, you're losing those hands!"
Spider-guy had been so fucking chatty when she first met him, but pretty much ever since that stupid machine had switched on, he was all grunts and slurs. If he'd heard her threat, he didn't seem worried. Hell, he didn't seem aware of her as anything other than wriggling tit-flesh. It wasn't exactly like this had never happened to her before. Helena Bertinelli had been an early bloomer. In Italy. This wasn't the first time some overeager hormone-jockey had copped a rough feel. But she'd certainly never been helplessly gooped to a wall while it happened. And there was a strange tickle through her costume she'd never experienced as Spider-guy fondled her rack... like his hands were almost glued to her boobs. At first it just felt weird, but the longer he molested her, the more his finger tips seemed to burn into her skin. It didn't really hurt so much. It wasn't fiery flame as much as it felt like... electricity. He suddenly tugged his right hand away, tearing off a large patch of her costume. Before she could protest, he'd dropped the hand-sized piece of thick fabric and yanked up the exposed half of her sports bra.
"Fah-fuck!" she groaned as her fat tit plopped out, no longer bound back by cotton. The cool air on her bared right breast ached in complete contrast with the flickering heat on her left which he was still groping. Then he bent down and rubbed his face on her now naked tit. At least that's what she thought he was doing at first, until she felt his tongue franticly pushing the wet cloth of his mask around her nipple.
He was trying to suck on her boob through his mask.
Just then, she could only think how outlandishly laughable this was. Here she was, at Spider-guy's mercy, and he'd failed to overcome his own costume. But the more he went at it, the bigger that wet spot on his mask got. Soon, he was actually getting a decent amount of suction over her sensitive nub. She shuddered as his fabric-covered lips closed down on her inflamed, friction-burnt nipple while his free hand flittered along her exposed belly. His fingers slid down to her utility belt, and Helena realized just how laughable her circumstances weren't.
Spider-guy didn't bother undoing the buckle. He just crushed the clasp with his hand and the weight of her weapons and tools did the rest. Huntress continued to squirm, still trying to free herself, but that damned webbing just wouldn't give. All she was doing was pressing her breast even harder into his face and bucking her hips up toward his hand as it slipped down through that stupid cut-away midriff.
"Ooooh, I really -- hah! hah! -- h-hate this fucking costume," she whimpered as his fingers worked their way through the sweat-matted thatch of her pubic hair.
*
Commander Rogers had told Barbara that she'd be on the line with Charles Xavier in half-a-minute but she knew better.
First, they were going to try to trace her signal and pinpoint her location. They couldn't, not really, but she knew enough to know that there was no way S.H.I.E.L.D. would take the word of some untraceable voice on such a high-security channel. That's why she'd created a sloppy cyber-trail that would lead them to a shitty apartment in Gotham's Devil's Square district that she rented under an old alias: Amelia Beddoes. If they went so far as to send agents, they'd know she wasn't actually there, but Barbara doubted they'd go that far.
As Beddoes, Barbara had applied for a freelance technical support position with the Initiative back when Tony Stark first took over as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Stark had really pushed for an overhaul of the organization's computer systems and equipment, and with the Beddoes identity's credentials through her work for Task Force X, Barbara had breezed right through the background check and security clearances. For all her skills as a hacker, it was actually pretty easy to gain access to confidential files when they gave it to you legitimately. And why let a good alias go to waste? When Rogers looked into TEC-359's story, it should check out just fine.
This would have been much easier if her favorite Martian was available, but J'onn J'onzz was at least 35 million miles away right now, living out three David Bowie references at once while he tried to rebuild life on Mars. Besides, things had been slightly awkward between Barbara and the Martian Manhunter since the Battle of Metropolis...
It had really just been the two of them scrambling to find some last-ditch method to save the city from the Secret Society. Barbara was used to that kind of thing, but it was different when J'onn was linking everybody with his telepathy. Her limited experience with this had always been centered on her work with the Justice League, but right then and there, the League had disbanded. They needed everybody they could get. Anyone who'd show up, honestly. She was still surprised how well the Great Lakes Avengers handled themselves.
J'onn came to see her afterward, and Barbara figured it was the ugliness with the League that prompted him. Bruce didn't always understand that the team was a bigger concept than The Batman, and sometimes, when you got him, Superman, and Wonder Woman in the same room alone, the three of them could forget how much the world needed them to work together. But the Martian Manhunter was truly the heart of the JLA. Without the League, he must have felt so lost.
"I wanted to thank you, Miss Gordon," he said. "The people of Metropolis would have suffered greatly without your diligence."
"You don't have to thank me," she said. Her father told her how Batman had said something similar to him in the beginning. "The League means almost as much to me as it does to you."
"I know," he told her. "I've been in your head. I've seen how you feel... The terrors you've survived. Your triumphs." She wasn't sure when he'd gotten so close. She was so used to having these kinds of conversations over a comm-link these days."You have a beautiful mind, Barbara Gordon," he said, his massive hand now warming her cheek.
She couldn't call what happened with J'onn a mistake. They'd certainly done what they did on purpose. But ever since it happened, things had been weird between them. The day after, Dick asked her to marry him, and the only thing stupider than that was the fact that she'd said yes. J'onn took it better than she expected, but that didn't mean he hadn't been hurt. And of course, the whole engagement with Grayson fell apart a few weeks later. Her fault, really. She knew Dick wasn't really ready.
That night with J'onn was something she never told anybody about. Not even the Birds during one of those crazy pub crawls Zinda insisted on. But as weird one night stands went, it was definitely… different.
Barbara didn't really want to think about any of this right now, so in the 4 minutes, 53 seconds Oracle waited for S.H.I.E.L.D to connect her with their top telepathic asset, she'd taken the time to briefly re-familiarize herself with Professor Charles Xavier's dossier. While she'd had very little contact with the man himself, she was well aware of his work on a whole. While some of the material he and his various mutant rights programs had produced over the years got a little too touchy-feely in their pleads to join Xavier in his dream for a better world where homo superior and homo sapiens could co-exist, she still respected his agenda. She'd contributed to a number of his charitable organizations, and even gone so far as to volunteer her time to his X-Corporation a few years back, helping them set up their world-wide network and ensure its security.
So when a posh, feminine voice greeted her over the secure line with a pithy "Cheers, darling... Who needs some top-notch telepathy?" seven seconds shy of five minutes after "Amy Beddoes" called S.H.I.E.L.D., she assumed there'd been a mix up.
"I'm sorry," Barbara said. "I was expecting Professor Xavier..."
"Oh why bother with an old fuddy-duddy like Charles when you've got me, dearie?" the woman insisted in what Barbara now realized was a fake British lilt laboriously covering Massachusetts roots.
"I'm sorry, TEC-359," Commander Rogers explained, breaking in. "Xavier is currently unavailable, but I can assure you that Emma Frost can provide you with whatever assistance you may require. The White Queen was instrumental in resolving the Sentry situation..."
The Sentry situation? Did Rogers mean that Superman-wannabe who'd fallen under Osborn's spell? The guy that Thor had to take down before he brought hell on earth during the Asgardian siege? Because if so, Barbara wasn't so sure this was the psychic she was looking for, but there was no time to argue. "Thank you, Commander," Oracle relented. "I see little choice but to defer to your judgment in this matter..."
"Then I'll leave you ladies to it," Rogers replied before disconnecting. "Over and out."
Barbara sighed. This entire stupid operation had been nothing but a series of unexpected events, but she couldn't quit now. "Okay, Ms. Frost," she said. "Let's get started."
I already have, "Oracle", a snobbish voice said in Barbara's head. And I know for a fact that my fake British accent is excellent, so I have to assume you're slightly more perceptive than most. Good. That might make this easier...
Barbara shivered for a moment, feeling the mild prickling between her eyebrows Bruce had taught her to recognize as a sign of mindreading. She hoped the rest of Batman's thorough telepathy training hadn't faltered over the years. There were ways to hide things from psychics. The Dark Knight had shown everybody he trusted with his identity how to do it, but it took concentration.
I see you have a "black box" containing what I can only assume are your innermost secrets, O, Frost's voice informed her. For the sake of time and propriety, I won't bother popping those feeble locks.
"I appreciate that," Barbara said.
No, no, dear, Frost mentally chastised her. Don't bother with words. This will go much quicker if you don't respond to me verbally... Now. What do you need?
Despite Frost's previous instruction, there was a brief pause as Barbara tried to put her request into words, but eventually she relaxed and just gave her mind over...
Spider-Man, she thought. I need your help to save Spider-Man...
*
Helena's skin flushed with warmth and sweat as his fingertips sank under her costume. Her pelvis trembled with an unbidden thrill when Spider-guy reached the elastic band of her briefs. What the fuck was happening to her?
"Nah-no..." Huntress pleaded when he seized hold of her underwear. He yanked on them sharply, wedging the material up into both the lips of her cunt and the crack of her ass. "AGH! Stop! Staaaaawwwwp!" she shrieked as he kept pulling harder and harder. She realized how wet she was getting as fluid sluiced onto her thighs with each rough jerk on her panties. The damp cotton was stroking her tingling clitoris with each wrenching tug.
Through all of this, he was still mauling one tit with his hand and trying to suck on the other and it was driving her crazy. Helena swore, right then, if only her hands were free she'd lift that stupid mask up herself. Anything to get his lips and tongue on her rock-hard nipple. Anything to calm the fire that roared through her chest.
"Oh oh oh fuuuuck, puh-pleeeasse," she groaned as the fabric cut into her. Her clit seared with a mix of pleasure and pain. With each sharp shock to her stiff little button, she could feel the cloth begin to tear, sliding back and forth between her thick, soaked lips. She realized what he was trying to do, but she couldn't take much more. One last hard yank pushed her over the edge.
"Haaaaaaaaahhhhh!" Huntress screamed just as he finally tore her underwear free. Cream spilled from her pussy down her legs all the way to the floor, but she was shaking so hard, she barely noticed. In that moment she only felt bliss and heat and relief and she went limp. If she hadn't been tied to the wall she'd be sprawled out on the floor, happily twitching in her own hot girl-cum.
"Fah... fuh... fuck," she panted. With release came a little bit of sanity. This is sick, Helena realized, her head sunk and eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath after that surprising climax. This... This wasn't normal. She didn't get off on this kind of S&M bondage garbage...
As she slowly regained some sense of the world around her, she realized Spider-guy wasn't touching her breasts anymore. For a brief moment she thought that he, too, had regained a bit of composure before she lifted her head and opened her eyes to see him lowering his pants. Sure. That part of his costume he still knew how to take off.
"Oh shiiiit," she murmured, licking her lips as she watched his fat, rigid dick bobbing toward her. It was actually dripping! He hooked his fingers into the crotch of her costume, pulling the material aside to expose her teeming, hot cunt. Spider-guy pressed his chest into hers. She could feel his heart beating wildly, flush against the bare skin of her breast as he rubbed himself along her puffy wet pussy. Her heart was thundering, too. She moaned with excitement, but she still knew there was something terribly wrong with her right now. Just like there was something wrong with him. It had to be the machine...
No no no, she thought as he positioned his cockhead to push into her, but "Yeeeessss," escaped from her lips. Helena knew she didn't want this. Not really. But there was nothing to stop her or him or any of it...
"Fuh-fucking priiiick!" she wailed as he thrust into her, hard. Right up to the hilt in one forceful stroke. If she hadn't just came, she swore he would have torn her. When her ass slammed into the cold wall behind her, Huntress realized she'd involuntarily shoved her hips toward him. She whimpered with unwanted need, throwing her head back as her eyes fluttered shut. She might not have wanted this but she loved it. Her sopping hot cunt quaked around his dick and his meat pulsated right back, sending little shockwaves of delight up through her body. She just felt so full. His cock pulled back, and Helena braced herself for the rough fucking ahead... The rough fucking some alien part of her craved...
So she was surprised when he slipped out of her completely.
Huntress looked to find him standing stock still, dazed, like a switch had been flipped in his head. She still couldn't see his eyes because of that damned stupid mask, but she wondered, briefly, what she'd see if she could. Would they be the eyes of a hormone-crazed animal, or had the act of penetrating her finally penetrated him? Had he finally realized just how wrong this all was?
"Sp-spider-guy?" she murmured, hoping for some response. He didn't give one. She watched him, baffled, as he fell onto his back on the floor. A thin strand of his precum and her own juices still connected his dick to her slit, slowly dipping until it broke and became another dribble down her thigh.
"What the hell?" Her mind was just this strange brew of relief and frustration peppered with need. "Are you okay?" she asked. But there was still no answer.
With the exception of his throbbing, wet erection, the Stupendous Spider-guy was dead to the world.
*
Result! Emma beamed as the violent swath of color stopped flickering past Barbara's mind's eye and settled into a nice, tranquil white.
Oracle didn't know how long they'd been scouring the astral plane in search of Spider-Man -- time flowed differently here -- but she was relieved that they seemed to have finally made contact. At the same time, this hadn't been what she'd expected. This vast whiteness around them. When J'onn J'onzz connected her with someone, there was some sense of them. Bruce's mind was dark and cold, just like the Batcave. The few times she'd been in Superman's head, it was open and airy fields of corn in every direction. Maybe Martian telepathy worked differently...
We're not in his mind yet, Frost said, answering her unasked question. I took a peek and decided you should brace yourself first. It gets a bit risqué...
I can handle it, Barbara thought.
I don't know what's influencing his mind right now, but there's a real risk that it could overwhelm us both, Emma informed her. I need a moment to set up some psychic buffering.
How bad is it? she wondered.
It's positively naughty. Barbara had been afraid of this. She'd been ruminating over the plans for Osborn's device and there was something off... Okay, Frost said eventually. I'm going to open a bit of his mind to you...
The blank slate around them suddenly exploded. It was like those porn pop-up ads she'd encounter when she monitored Superboy's internet activity. Barbara was bombarded by images of Peter Parker fucking. She saw the Black Cat humping his brains out in a seedy motel room. No wonder he was so eager to find her. There was a brunette she didn't recognize soaping his cock up in a shower, too. And that busty supermodel he'd lived with. Barbara saw this weird flash of her bent over a dresser while wearing the tackiest Batgirl costume she'd ever seen. And was that Gwen Stacy blowing him? Oh god, she saw him and Huntress... No. Barbara was still just so tired... She had to be seeing things... right? As all of this swirled around her, she couldn't help but wonder whether these were memories or fantasies...
More memories than you'd think, Emma said. The tawdry bit with Wonder Woman tit-wanking him is just a wet dream from high school, but it seems Spider-Man's had quite the active sex life. A little vanilla for my taste, but impressive nonetheless. He's always struck me as a bit of a nerd, but now I'm almost curious what he can get up to with all that webbing...
"Spider-Man!" Barbara called out, giving voice to her astral avatar. "This is Oracle!"
That's not going to be enough to get through to him, sweetie, Emma told her. I don't know what's affecting him, but it's too strong. We need an anchor... a memory that means something to him. Something deep. Something powerful. Dare I say, something... sexy.
Such as? Barbara asked.
Our best bet would be to bring in someone he's shared a sexual history with, the White Queen explained. See if we can get through to him through that specific memory... Maybe the tight little blonde with the black leather and domino mask. She seems a particular favorite of his, and with plenty of titillating reminiscent material...
That's neither possible nor necessary, Barbara told her. I can do it.
So he is more than an asset to you, Emma teased. My my my... Aren't you absolutely full of surprises, O?
Barbara had seen them, of course... In the whirling, wanton mass of Spider-Man's mind there were all of these glimpses of her from all those years past. An image of Batgirl desperately trying to beat him down in a tattered costume Killer Moth had cut up... Peter ripping those stodgy pajama bottoms of hers apart, baring her wet pussy... When she was driving him to the train station but abruptly pulled over into some random Gotham City alley because he'd been rubbing her leg the whole time. God, they almost got caught by some beat cop... Explaining that to the Commissioner would have been fun.
Did Parker really think about Barbara this much, or was it because he'd just figured out she was Oracle? Goddamn Huntress... Why did she have to go and use her real name? Helena had ruined everything...
But if there was one thing Oracle was good at, it was pushing past her personal issues so she could fixate on doing the work. What do you need me to do? she asked Frost.
The telepath was totally loving this. This... this was just absolutely delicious. When Cyclops had asked Emma to help with this favor for S.H.I.E.L.D, she assumed it'd be something simple and boring. Like helping Bruce Banner with another damned repressed memory. But as soon as she'd linked minds with TEC-359, Frost could tell from the vague thoughts at the edge of her consciousness that whatever Oracle needed from her was going to be a challenge. And now Emma realized it was going to be a hot, sexy challenge. As far as the White Queen was concerned, it didn't get much better than that.
I thought that was obvious, dear, she told Oracle. You have to mindfuck the Amazing Spider-Man.
Emma went on to explain the specifics. How the sex centers of his brain had taken over and that the best chance of breaking through this nearly impenetrable fog of lust was for someone to connect to him in a very carnal manner. There were other ways to punch their way into him, but that would take longer and could damage his mind.
This had all been persuasive enough to convince Barbara she didn't have much choice. Not if she wanted to shut Osborn's engine down as quickly as possible. Not if she wanted all of her operatives to make it home before something terrible happened. How... how do we begin?
Tell me what it was like with him, Emma instructed. How long were you lovers?
Just that one time we met, but we did it a lot over maybe ten hours, Barbara confessed. She wondered if telepathy left any room for discretion. She never would have put it that way to this strange woman if they were just chatting...
Tell me about getting him off, Frost practically purred in her mind. When you were most in control...
Barbara had spent the last day trying not to think about any of this. Ever since Spider-Man's voice cropped up on her communication channel. Peter Parker belonged in a very certain corner of her mind. One she left alone for specific reasons. Barbara Gordon remembered everything, but she didn't have to think about it if she didn't want to. But now she let those memories flood in.
When had she most felt in control? Honestly, it was easier to ask when she hadn't with Parker. Hell, their whole thing had happened because Spider-Man lost it, and the thought of that... the idea that someone found her so sexy that he could cum while she was beating him up had been this weird turn-on. Enough time had passed now that Barbara could also admit that she might have been motivated by something else, too. Killer Moth had been trying to rape her when Spider-Man showed up. She hadn't wanted to let the Moth win. She didn't want to be afraid of sex for the rest of her life because of that stupid asshole...
She'd practically pounced on Parker. She'd told him what to do when he didn't do it the way that she liked. Honestly, Barbara worried sometimes she might have taken his cherry. But no, that wasn't right. Peter had certainly participated. He'd done things to her she couldn't have asked for... Like, god, oh god, that thing in the bathroom. Taking her from behind while she gripped the bathroom sink, begging him to tell her if he was wearing a condom... Gaaaawd.
She hadn't even known his real name when she wandered into the guest room, but soon after, he was pounding into her. Then they did it again a few times the next morning. It was kind of a first for her. Years later, when she was with Dick, they'd broken that record more than once, but up until then, Barbara had never been so horny in her whole life.
But when had she most been in control? Probably that morning after, when she'd woken up with the warmth of his hard cock poking against her. She shuddered then, startled, and that woke him, too. He was still almost sleeping but she just had to have him again. She found herself sliding down to take his manhood in his mouth.
As she remembered the scene, it materialized around them. Every nook and cranny of one room in a house she hadn't lived in for so long. Her father had sold it a few years after she moved into an apartment. When Dad married Sarah.
Oh my, O, Emma marveled as the space formed. I know quite a few telepaths who couldn't recreate a memory with quite this precision. You've got quite the eye for detail, don't you, dearie?
Eidetic memory, Barbara mused.
You cheeky little cheater. It was weird, but Barbara could feel Frost grin in her head. I should have known you were a ginger, Emma sighed. Nothing worse than a repressed redhead...
Barbara hadn't understood what she was talking about until she glanced down and saw them. Before, when the White Queen had led her into the astral plane, it had been purely mental. Barbara only felt herself as some kind of floating head. But as the memory began to take shape, so did she. Not as the woman she was today, but that carefree girl she'd been all those years ago.
She looked down her body and there they were, her legs, sliding down the length of the bed as she shuffled her way toward Peter's dick. Just like they used to be...
The old girls tend to go south around 30, don't they? Emma commiserated. I take it your breasts aren't as perky these days?
Something like that. Clearly enough of Barbara's psychic shielding was working to keep Frost from scanning too much of her mind... That was good, but now she found herself focused on that morning once more. It hadn't taken much to really wake Peter. Just her lips brushing his dick.
"Oh daaaaamn," he had cried out. "Nuh-nobody's ever...."
That's when she'd first started to think that he'd been a virgin. He'd certainly never been blown before. Not really. She'd taken him into her mouth briefly before they fucked that night, but that had been a mission of maintenance. Barbara needed him hard to put on the condom. She'd more or less done all that for her, but in that moment she wanted to do it for him...
"Stand up," she ordered, and he had been confused. "Off the bed."
Poor groggy Parker tumbled onto the floor shortly after. Barbara followed him, landing somewhere close to the place that he'd fallen so clumsily, in front of the nightstand. He was just this young puppy, she realized as she knelt expectantly before him. He was just this dumb, adorable puppy, but he slowly got the idea and stood up. It probably took him just a little too long, which might be why she dove in, grabbing his ass and pulling him forward so she could resume lovingly kissing his tip. She allowed herself one tender lick into his dickhole and he stumbled back onto the bedside table.
This was all just so weird. Barbara remembered this vividly, but right here and now, this was more than a memory. She was actually doing it all over again in some way. Eating Peter Parker's cock. One of her hands left his butt to grasp him gently near the base of his dick. Just her thumb and index finger. She didn't jerk on him at all. She hadn't wanted to over-stimulate the poor kid. He was still learning. She just wanted to shift the angle of his dick as her lips finally closed on the crown.
She remembered how hot for him she'd been back then. This weird, oddly principled geek just wanted Barbara so much that morning, even after he'd already fucked her the night before. Some guys made their conquest and were done. It was out of their system. Maybe it was just morning wood she was nibbling, but the way he started to stroke her hair spoke to some deeper desire.
She rubbed her lips back and forth on his cockhead. His grip on her hair tightened. He obviously enjoyed it, she realized as he rolled his hips forward... This had started as a bit of a tease, but now his dick was pressed almost into the back of her mouth. She worried, vaguely, that this super-powered teenager might just choke her to death by blissful accident. She'd gotten the sense that he certainly had the strength to drive his manhood right through her head. But no. His prick just briefly tickled her throat. She wasn't even gagging...
Peter Parker clearly wanted her -- desperately -- but not enough that he'd risk hurting her. Who was this guy? Could she convince him to move out to Gotham? It was a stupid, naïve thought. Maybe the last one Barbara had in her confused early-twenties. But fuck if she didn't find herself eagerly bobbing the length of his cock now.
She forced herself to slow down when his prick throbbed in her mouth. She wanted to draw this out. She had to teach this boy patience and pace. Barbara knew she couldn't have him all to herself, but damn it, she wasn't about to send him out into the world without learning a lesson or two. She went back to working him with just her tongue. His dick throbbed again, but he got the idea. His fingers slipped from her long scarlet locks as both hands fell back to the nightstand, propping him up as his legs threatened to go out from under him.
Yes, she thought, slipping her lips around him again. This is when I was most in control...
Barbara yelped when she felt an unexpected pair of hands squeeze her tits from behind.
Don't mind me, darling, Emma thought. Just doing my part to solidify the connection.
Ahh... Shouldn't you be working on him, then? Barbara wondered with a pleasurable sigh as Frost's dainty fingers caressed her stiff nipples.
Trust me, Emma insisted, her right hand releasing Barbara's tit to brush the hair from her shoulder so she could kiss her neck. I'm a professional.
You're an old pro, alright, Barbara mused, moaning around the dick in her mouth as Emma's hand slipped the length of her torso, down from her shoulder to touch her cunt.
You saucy little bitch, Emma said, pushing three slim psychic fingers into her pussy.
"Ahhhh!" Barbara cried, pulling off Peter's cock as the pleasure rippled through her. The whole room started to waver around them. No. It hadn't happened like this. The memory couldn't hold...
Tut-tut, dear, Emma admonished, flicking Barbara's engorged clit with her thumb. Don't break the link. You have to maintain it for him. We've got a mission after all...
Oh my god! Barbara's mind screamed in delight. I... I... can't if you keep this up...
Come now, Oracle, Emma teased. I thought you were a multi-tasker. Focus!
Barbara rallied her wherewithal as she favored Peter's pecker with a few long, slow licks just like she had back on that day and the room realigned.
Good girl, Emma thought, which only made Barbara fume inwardly. Frost was actively endangering the op with these... these antics of hers! I didn't hear you complaining before, Emma brooded, removing her fingers from Barbara's soaking psionic sex. Do you really want me to stop?
I don't know... Barbara admitted, realizing she'd let herself get swept up in the strange mix of newness and familiarity. She hadn't expected things to be so sexual. She'd had this kind of telepathic experience before, but not like this. Not with the White Queen. And she hadn't expected to feel her legs again. And Emma's ministrations had come right out of the blue...
I assure you, it's necessary, O, Emma insisted, playfully drumming her fingers along Barbara's spine. Did Frost know what that was doing to her? She must have. She was in her head, wasn't she? I know it's a terribly banal cliché to say that sex is the only language a man understands, but right now, it's tragically true for our friendly neighborhood spunk monkey.
Barbara looked up into Peter's face, his eyes glazed over with desire as she took him into her mouth.
If you want your little meeting of the minds, you've got to draw him to you, Frost continued. The White Queen was suddenly lying on her back, her head just peeping out between Barbara's bent legs so she could look her in the eye. The blonde psychic was absolutely stunning. Horrible things are said to gawky redheaded girls in their youth. For years, little Babs Gordon had wished she was the type of hot-bodied blonde that she now imagined was idly stroking her thighs. Barbara had resolved most of those body issues years ago... just in time to be presented with a whole different set, actually, but there was something oddly thrilling about peering down at the former fantasy version of herself between her knees.
He's got to let you in completely, Emma insisted, and Barbara wondered if the White Queen's eyes were as dazzlingly blue in real life as they were in her mind. I'm afraid that if you want to come together, well... you've got to cum together. Frost punctuated her point by licking the length of Barbara's inner thigh.
"Oh -- aaaaah -- gawd!" she whined onto Peter's prick.
And since he's in too much of a frenzy to meet your needs, Frost went on to explain, unimpeded by Barbara's squirming, Auntie Em's going to step in... Unless you have an objection...?
Fuck, what should she do? What could she do? Frost was in charge here, wasn't she? Emma knew what they needed to do to get through to Peter... right? Barbara had been working this case far too long. She really needed to sleep. She was frazzled and fried and, hell, just finding herself out here on the astral plane, living out some memory from long ago... None of this seemed real to her anymore...
I just... I don't think I'm gay, Barbara told her. That was all she was really worried about just then.
What about that girl from college? Emma asked her. Katrina was her name, I think... You seemed less worried about silly labels then...
Nothing happened, Barbara asserted. We were just friends... Not even that... rivals really... Then she came back and tried to take over my life... She's a... She's a bitch...
Hot blondes versus sad ginges, Emma reflected. The eternal struggle. She chided herself. Frost had actually broadcasted that thought. If this was going to work, she needed Oracle willing. I'm not gay either, sweetie, she admitted, her nose now brushing against Barbara's slit. I just like fucking with people.
There was nothing about that statement that made Barbara feel any better.
Don't worry, the White Queen insisted. This is all in your mind. It doesn't really count, does it?
I guess not... Barbara reasoned as the woman squeezed her ass.
Emma smiled. That line worked every time.
Barbara realized this was getting completely out of hand. There was just too much happening at once. Peter's dick in her mouth while Emma nibbled on her leg. The leg she wouldn't feel right now if not for this memory. And the White Queen just kept saying these things. Barbara had never had a... a conversation with someone as they kissed their way to her cunt. But as Oracle, she had learned to adapt to broad, sweeping changes. She could adapt to this. She felt compelled to maintain some sense of control, though...
Don't make me cum, she pleaded with Frost. You can have your fun, just, please, don't make me cum. Let it be him...
As long as you can hold out, it shouldn't be a problem, Emma agreed, eagerly diving into her muff now.
Just remember, this is all to save Spider-Man, Barbara mentally whimpered as Frost's lips closed on her clit. She wasn't sure if this was a message for the White Queen or for herself anymore, and that's when she realized...
Holding out was going to be a problem...
NEXT: ...Bees Do It
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When Spidey Met Oracle