Work Text:
Peter Parker sat huddled in his bedroom, trying to stifle the pain that pulsed through his body. Sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking into his shirt, but it did nothing to quell the agony crawling beneath his skin. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, his spine arching as something alien inside him pushed against the surface.
The changes had started subtly — an increased sensitivity, sharper reflexes — but now, it was undeniable.
There were little things at first — a strange craving for bugs, enhanced reflexes that went beyond even his Spidey-sense, and then, the nightmares. Horrifying dreams where he felt himself morphing, becoming something unrecognizable, something monstrous. The dreams stopped being dreams when he woke up one morning and discovered the beginnings of spider legs protruding from his back.
He tried to keep it quiet. Aunt May didn’t need to know. She worried about him enough as it was. So, he made excuses, avoided physical contact, and hid the bulging lumps growing beneath his hoodie. But now, the changes were too rapid to ignore. His bedroom floor creaked beneath his weight, the legs pushing through his skin with an audible rip that made Peter bite down on his hand to stop from screaming.
Peter’s breathing came in shallow gasps as he pressed his forehead to the cool wood of his bedroom floor, desperately trying to think. He couldn’t let May see this.
“She’d be terrified. She wouldn’t even recognize me.” He thought sadly.
There was a knock at the door. Peter tensed, his entire body stiffening as he heard May’s voice on the other side.
“Peter? You okay in there? You’ve been in your room all day.” Her voice was dripping with worry, and it made Peter feel sick with guilt.
“Yeah, May!” Peter choked out, his voice strained. He could hear the spider-like hiss in his throat, and he cringed, “Just not feeling great. Think it’s a stomach bug.”
“Do you need anything? I can make you some soup—”
“No!” he interrupted, too quickly, “I mean, no, it’s fine. I just need to sleep it off.”
“Alright,” she replied, her voice filled with concern, “Let me know if you need anything.”
Peter listened to her footsteps retreat down the hallway, waiting until he was sure she was gone before allowing himself to breathe. His back was a mess—four thick, grotesque legs had fully burst from his skin, dark, spiny, and dripping with blood. The pain was unbearable, but what terrified him more was the realization that he was changing into something inhuman, into something that looked villainous. How could he be a hero when he looks terrifying?
Before he could process what to do next, his phone buzzed. He crawled over to his desk, trying to ignore the clicking of his new appendages against the floorboards. The message was from Tony Stark:
On my way. Don’t move. Happy’s bringing the car.
Peter’s throat tightened. Of course, Tony knew. There were sensors all over his suit — he had no way of hiding this. Still, he couldn’t stop the panic rising in his chest. What if Tony couldn’t help? What if there was no way to stop this transformation?
Minutes later, Peter heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up outside the flat. The front door opened, and May’s surprised voice greeted Happy Hogan, who made up some excuse about needing to see Peter for one reason or another. Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to move. The legs on his back moved unnaturally, instinctively responding to his thoughts, but they made him feel less human with every step.
Happy knocked on Peter’s door softly. “Kid? We have to go. Stark’s waiting.”
Peter hesitated for a moment, then opened the door just wide enough to meet Happy’s eyes, staying hidden behind it. “I— I can’t let May see me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Happy’s face fell as he saw a glimpse of the blood-soaked hoodie and the jagged, spindly legs poking through the fabric. “Jesus, kid…” He said, his tone sympathetic and shocked, “We’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Peter nodded and slipped through the door as quietly as he could, the legs folding awkwardly against his back.
Happy placed his hand on Peter's shoulder in what anyone would think was a friendly gesture, but Peter knew Happy was doing it to hide the new limbs behind his arm. He was extremely thankful.
Happy led him to the car and as they drove through the city, Peter’s body trembled, more out of fear than pain. He felt Tony’s eyes on him as they pulled up to the Avengers Tower, his mentor waiting for him at the entrance.
When they arrived, Tony was waiting. His face, usually so composed, betrayed a flicker of concern as he saw Peter approach. The spider legs were hard to ignore, twitching every few seconds in a way that made Peter cringe.
Tony said nothing at first, just staring at Peter as if trying to process what he was seeing. “We’ll figure this out,” he finally said, his voice firm but tinged with uncertainty. “You’re not alone in this.”
Peter wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t sure there was any fixing this. He was becoming something else, something monstrous. As they entered the tower, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass doors. His eyes had changed, too — dark, wide, more spider than human.
What's going to happen to him now?