Chapter Text
Bucky loved his babies and he would certainly love to have more.
Peter knew that, anyone would, and after he had actually considered sleeping with other men, even if he had only thought of it as a way to tarnish his own potential reputation as an innocent victim and make Bucky's rightful but hard to prove claim that he hadn't known he was sleeping with a minor believable enough that no jury - if people did find out and lay charges against the war hero - would actually condemn him for 'taking advantage'; not if Peter was clearly a slut who rejoiced in seducing unsuspecting older men to their ruin.
But no matter what his reasons might have been, he had still thought about sleeping with other men and if Bucky knew about that it would break his heart. Just having thought of it felt like cheating and as a consequence Peter felt horrible. He needed to get punished. And to make amends. So maybe he could give Bucky more babies to make him happy. The last time they had done this felt like a special exception, though, and he had felt powerful being the one to enter his older lover for once, even with the pain in his cock from 'laying' the nanite eggs.
He didn't feel powerful now. He felt rotten with guilt. But Mentor was easily able to solve his shortcomings, which was how Peter ended up here: It was a first try, but he was anxious enough in the face of it that it would probably work as the punishment was designed. And Bucky was still with Mister Stark, so he had time to prepare his present.
First he needed to get deep-cleaned of course. He might not have eaten much of anything in a while, but it was better to be safe than sorry and it should be a good start into his punishment; Peter absolutely hated and dreaded the enema. He shivered just laying on his back on the cold tile floor as an Iron Man suit pushed the nozzle of the hose up inside him.
When the water started, it was still easy. The jet pressure with which it pelted his insides was the worst part at that stage, but it would take forever to fill him up if Mentor didn't put as much water per second through the hose as was possible. Then the duller pressure of water being inside him started to build, the pressure of its volume as it expanded, pushing at the walls of his rectum and crawling up deeper inside him.
The nerves along his bowls weren't fine-tuned enough to ever tell how far it had gone at any point, so he just felt the fullness for a while as it built and kept building. His lower intestines expanded and thickened around the growing mass inside and soon enough the curves of the swelling organ started pushing against each other.
Peter grimaced at the first ache and very purposely didn't look down to check when he would start showing. For now he was better off focusing on something else. In an idle attempt to distract himself he plucked at his nipples and soon another Iron Man suit came with his sensitizer bra, so he managed to concentrate on pinching them into distinct nub before capturing them in the bra's five-toed talon clamps and pushing the suction cups down on his areolae so they could start working his chest into something nice for Bucky.
By then, however, his belly ached from the pressure, every now and again interrupted by the sharper stabs of cramps as more water filled up his insides. His breathing quickened against his better judgment and he tried to distract himself by clicking the all metal minimizer around his cock a notch tighter. That always worked, especially with the sound inside it leaving no room for the already squeezed tissues of his shaft to go, compressing them further.
Only the cramps came faster now and one pierced him sharply enough that he couldn't catch his eyes in time. They glanced down and he saw the bulge as his abdominal wall started to bend around the mass of his swelling guts.
Shit, he hadn't wanted to see that. His pulse raced and he tried to find another distraction, anything to do with his hands, so he tugged at the sound and yeah, maybe he could use a bigger one. He told Mentor as much and the AI arranged it, giving him an already slicked sound as thick as his pinky, so he pulled the old one out as soon as Mentor unlocked its fastening and was almost puzzled when the pressures on his cock dropped, but then his belly seized again around another gallon and he quickly led the new sound to his slit.
It was easy enough to find as the eternally sore and almost rubbery opening that ultimately led to his balls and bladder was stretched and used to it, so he quickly got the slightly tapered tip in, but actually pushing the length of the sound inside himself was much harder. Which made it the perfect counterpoint to the pain of his belly as more and more water filled him so far that even his spider-bite enhanced abs couldn't stop his swelling insides from pushing outward.
His errant instincts had him tense, but when his abdominal muscles tried to tighten across the growing mass it only pushed his inflated organs around inside him, hurting more and pitting more of that mass against his diaphragm. His stomach churned as it was squeezed on several sides, empty and bendable though it was, and he relaxed as fast as he could and pushed harder at the sound to take his nervous system's attention away from the build-up he dreaded the most. His cock hurting as he stretched his urethra and squished his shaft between metal on the inside and metal on the outside was much more bearable.
And he only had to bide his time after all. For now. This was just cleaning, so the flow of the water would end and it would soon leave again. It would just get still worse before that. Worse enough that the second Iron Man suit had to take hold of his wrists and pull them over his head once the new sound was locked in place. Worse enough that the first had to help distract him with a metal hand taking hold of his cuffed balls and squeezing the overgrown ovals harshly.
That hurt enough to balance the pain and he thought he could do this, but he was still too scared to ask how close he was to capacity. Only not knowing was just as terrifying and when he did ask, it felt like a relief. 80%. That should be enough for a cleaning. Only Mentor wanted to take him to 90% to stretch him for later and he needed a lot more help with that.
He needed a solid penis gag pushing through his throat and staying inside for thirty seconds at a time to silence him, pushing into it in quick jab when another and much worse cramp wrecked through his body like a seizure. He needed more distraction to balance him. He needed the first suit to pull on the cuff holding his balls to stretch them as far as they would go as the second held his wrists. And like the machines the Iron Man suits were, having the (current) maximum distance once was enough to ease his balls back and then violently rip them to that exact same stretch again to create the maximum amount of pain without permanent damage.
But with the gag down his throat, staying another moment and then another and again, his struggle to take the water wouldn't bother anyone outside the room, even if the soundproofing failed.
There were only 5% left when he needed the first few and still mild electric shocks through his balls from their cuff in order to handle the agony in his belly anymore and he was disgustingly proud over that. He was sure it had been more last time. But then how could he be proud, when he still struggled so much just to hold some water?
How weak did he have to be to feel so relieved he cried when he didn't have to hold the water any longer and Mentor let him drain it, both suits helping him stagger to the toilet? It felt pathetic. He felt pathetic as he showered off his lower body and toweled it dry to receive his actual load.
A suit brought the new machine that Mentor had designed just for this. Under the AI's instruction he folded out a backrest and straddled it, inching toward the machine with his ass before lying back. But to be faster and not make Bucky wait, the suits quickly took over and he took it for reprieve. Strong cuffs closed around his thighs to keep him in place, with more grasping his ankles to cuff them to the thick pillar-like machine's back, effectively wrapping his legs around it.
A wider nozzle inched into his ass and before he was even strapped in completely it opened its valves and started filling his barely relieved belly all over again. Only this wasn't water. The exact recipe was known only to Mentor, but the gist was simple for Peter: It was full of nanites to make more babies along with lubricant to help move the metal inside him and ultimately help the robot spider eggs come out of him, too.
The lubricant was edible and plum-flavored of course and although it was water-based, the solution was still much denser than his washing water. He thought back about what that meant for him as one suit cuffed his hands behind - or as it was rather below - his back and the backrest before locking them to a wire that pulled them toward the base of the machine.
That made it quite a bit harder to keep his head up, as the backrest ended between his shoulder blades, but he still reached the conclusion that the density of the solution gathering in him in the easy early stages of his filling shouldn't impact him too much. So it was heavier, yeah, but the volume would be the same. That was what Mentor measured his capacity by.
And if it wasn't, he only had himself to blame for not thinking this through before he started it. Bucky didn't know about his present yet, but it still felt like Peter had all but promised to do it and he couldn't break his word now. He was doing this.
His rectum and large intestine were the first to swell up and protest again as lube and metal made room for themselves inside them, but a suit already picked up his balls to stretch them out again, upward now. At once a lid opened in the machine and then an entire rail along the front.
Peter breathed in relief even before a second ball cuff rattled along the rail and opened just in front of the straining root of his balls. That- oh. Huh. The cuff was supposed to go between his torso and the cuff already in place. Well, they were stretched so often and hard it should probably fit.
Briefly he thought of that culture where women wore ever more rings around their necks to lengthen them and how that was technically a misconception because the rings actually pressed their shoulders down instead. This, though... Well, as long as it worked.
Besides, the pressure was already traveling higher again so he knew he would need something to disperse the focus of his looming pain. He was just too weak to take it all weighing on a single kind of sensation. So when the suit pulled his balls from him by their first cuff that bit more and the machine cuff fitted itself between its brother and his body, holding his balls at their distance, he was glad.
He didn't need it yet but he knew he would when the machine filled him closer toward capacity. Not knowing when he would have to be gagged again he asked Mentor to keep him posted on his progress ahead of time and nearly snorted when she told him that he was at 5%. No wonder nothing hurt yet.
The solution itself was a bit odd, thick and sluggish as it was compared to real water. But it still reached his every cranny and membrane fold as it streamed inside him. 10% was no problem either, but he did show by then. That was a surprise, because it seemed so little, but the solution didn't push deep as quickly as it pushed outward, so maybe that screwed with his impression.
Either way it was fine. Pretty much everything before 50% was fine with him as he cramped only infrequently and Mentor showed him the cutest spider-themed babydoll to go with his belly. It had a layer completely out of white lacework in the shapes of connecting spiderwebs over a layer of cherry red with that turned more pinkish toward the bottom. Black spiders also sat on the bra part with their prominent abdomens right where his nipples would be and their legs spanning the cups to create an even stronger effect of protruding outward.
Bucky would love it.
Until then however, Peter still had almost 40% to go and he was already getting goosebumps. But he didn't need help yet... Until he did. At once a suit pushed his head down to open his throat and eased the gag back inside it. Or dildo. Without the straps and buckle to attach it to his head it would just be a big dildo, even though it was used to gag him, but that hardly mattered right now.
He started to squirm but with his head bent back so far at least he couldn't see his belly swell upward anymore. It was always disturbing for him to see. This way he only had to feel it. The cuffs around his thighs also hindered his squirming, though, and he would appreciate some help soon.
Just not immediately. It was bad enough that he needed it at all, so he tried to resist and just handle the way his insides bulged and pressed against each other, his other organs, his diaphragm and his bowing abdominal wall. He had had more not even half an hour ago. This was nowhere close yet.
Until it was. Until his swelling intestines pushed against his kidneys, his stoppered bladder (he had emptied it right before with the wisdom of his previous experiences, but even empty it was still there and sensitive), his similarly empty stomach and his every breath.
His belly seized against the relentless stretch and in the end he did need help again. He tried not to, even with unwanted tears burning in his eyes, but he couldn't lie still and just endure as his belly turned into a single giant mass of still inflating agony. He needed it balanced by other pains, so he had to tap the signal and his relief was instantaneous.
A shock razed through his balls to start with and then the machine pulled them from him as far as it could, further than earlier, before a metallic sliding sound signaled the unsheathing of another implement. He had a suspicion with his scrotum all stretched and what skin remained to the balls taut over them even before he heard the slight whooshing sound.
Then the machine swung a mallet down on them and he nearly came and passed out at the same time as his overfull balls were crushed, his howl shaking the gag down his throat. It was heaven. He was back at 80% before he knew it and his belly felt moderate in comparison. A suit also replaced his sound with a thicker one again and with his agony spread out in doses across several different parts of his body, he weathered it much better.
Even at 85% the intermittent shocks through his cuff, the slowly but surely increasing stretch and staccato pounding of his balls kept him afloat. He was still sweating from the pain and writhing as much as he could in his bonds, nauseous from the pressure rising to his stomach, but he was fine. And almost done.
Only Mentor didn't stop at 90% this time. The AI announced them, but then just kept filling him more. He tapped out the question in a fit of anxiety before he could think better of it. But when Mentor asked back to the point if he wanted to abort and stay short of what every scan said he could take for Bucky, his stomach dropped doubly. For having to go to maximum capacity and for the reminder of how he had never actually been able to give Bucky wh- no, he had never been ready , not able . Because he was too whiny and selfish and pathetic.
This time he would. He felt like he might burst at any moment, like his intestines would rupture at a single drop more, he was screaming into his gag and unable to stop, but that only proved that he was a fucking baby with no self control. Could he not do this ONE thing for the man he had enthralled and condemned after all the good he had done and all he had sacrificed that Peter couldn't even begin to imagine?
No, this time he would take it all. He only begged for help with that. He needed the clobbering of his balls faster and harder to fill the too big wait of too little sensation in between and he needed a bigger sound. Not even the next bigger, even halfway in that didn't feel like enough so the suit took the next bigger one after that and it hurt like heaven for a moment.
The suit practically fucked his urethra with it to make the most of it, clicking the minimizer tighter yet again when the effect lessened too much and switching to a bigger sound when even that didn't help anymore. When Mentor announced the 95% he didn't know if he felt hope or despair and he somehow really needed to come, that was all too much input not to and his body had unlearned how to distinguish between pain and pleasure anyway.
He was so close... A bar pushed between his balls and suddenly the mallet split and fell switching, smashing one ball as the other side pulled up so while the first gained momentum again the second could smash into its ball with nary a breath in-between.
Peter was delirious with pain, that was so spread out and balanced between different parts of him that it just swirled around his mind in a gentle maelstrom instead of tearing him away like a single rapid current. He was at peace. Out of body.
And then, he was at capacity.