WEB OF LIES [TRANS PETER PARKER]

two

Chapter Two

Peter's POV

I stumbled home from school that day, my knees wobbly and my head swarming. I would've stopped by Delmar's on the way for a can of coke but I knew that I would worry him with my state. I clutched my hand to my chest, wrapped in the sleeves of my jacket and sweater. My heart was pounding, my binder growing unbearable slowly but surely. By the time I got to the door of our apartment, I didn't even bother calling out a greeting. Instead, I simply wrapped my right fist against the inside of the wooden door, shutting it groggily behind me.

"Peter? Oh, good, you're home. Come quick, I need your opinion on this outfit," I heard Aunt May's voice coo from her bedroom. I tried to hurry past her into my own room, and instead came face to face. "This one, or this one," she asked as she held up two outfits, one a rather skimpy red dress, and the other a pair of leather pants and a white blouse.

I pointed blindly towards one with my well hand, and in the same movement motioned to my bedroom. I followed the motion and began walking toward the door, nearly tripping and having to catch myself on the door frame.

"Oh dear!" May said as she caught me. She brushed my bangs from my forehead which was already sticky with sweat. "You look ill."

"No duh!" I cried out groggily as she helped me to me bed where I collapsed. She felt my forehead before proceeding to yank off my shoes and my glasses. She tugged at the sleeve of my jacket but I refused, still silently nursing my bitten arm.

"I'm going to head to the corner to pick up some medicine. Oh, and before you fall asleep, take off your binder." I groaned at the thought of having to wrestle it off, to which she protested, "Peter, I mean that. Binder off." As soon as she shut the door, I relished in the darkness. Still, I squeezed my eyes shut and sat up in the bed, pulling off layer after layer until my stomach felt the cool breeze that had settled in my room. My two hands crossed in front of my body, clutching at the sides of my half binder, before I ripped it off over my hand and quite literally collapsed back into my bed.

As I slept, or rather lay unconscious, my bones were shifting and clicking as though they were a new floor settling into the earth. My heart rate stumbled, a metronome gone whack. Each twist and turn of my muscles pummeled the springs in the mattress. New patterns were alive and awake inside of me.

When I woke up, it was to May's voice. "Hi, Mr. Flannigan, I'm just calling to let you know that Peter Parker won't be in again today."

Again? What? I sat up, the jerking motion sending electricity through my veins. Looking around, Aunt May was no where in sight. The door was shut, and the room was rather dark.

Confused, I untangled myself from my sheets, tugging a navy blue sweatshirt over my hand and walking towards the window. As soon as my fingers ticked the edge of the blinds, my vision went white. I stumbled backwards and fell onto my bed, the curtain readjusting itself on the wall as I slowly regained my sight.

I shook my head as it pounded. That was wild, I thought.

"Yes, it must be the flu. I hear it's been going around again," Aunt May's voice came again, clear as day.

I rolled across the bed, practically hopping to the door.

"Alright, you too, have a good one," she said.

The door creaked open as I twisted the handle. "Aunt May," I started.

"Oh, Peter, you're awake!" she exclaimed, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter with the phone clutched in her hand. Impossible.

"Wh-what's going on?" I asked, my voice cracking in the process. Suddenly my throats felt raw and cracked.

She looked back at me with concern in her eyes, which seemed to be all I saw of her these days. "Peter, you've been asleep for nearly a day and a half! How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling? I'm, I'm feeling fine." If a little better than fine, I wanted to add.

She gave me a goofy look. "Whatever, trooper. No school for you today, but do you think you can hold down the fort? I should probably go to work, at least for a few hours."

"No, yeah, yeah that's cool," I croaked as I began scratching at my neck. Eager to get her gaze off of me, I began shuffling around for a glass of water. She hesitated to drop her over protective stare and finally brushed it off as she pulled her hair into a high bun and began to collect her things. I got my water and pushed myself onto the counter. As I sat, I dangled my legs freely. My eyes stumbled upon the now swollen lump on the underside of my wrist, and though it hardly hurt I winced at the image of it overlapping an old set of scars. My fingers traced lines, stopping to circle the bite mark.

When I looked up, Aunt May stood in front of the door, looking at me as though she were exhausted. "Are you sure you'll be alright here alone today?" she asked, a guilty twinge in her voice.

"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. Go to work, quit worrying about me." I tried on a smile, though it probably lacked convincing.

"Alright," she sighed. "But you're still sick, so no binders, no leaving the house. You know the drill."

I gave a salute, whisking her out the door with the motion. The door shut and an eerie silence filled the room. At her mention of my binder, I suddenly craved it. I coughed a few times, testing out my lungs. I didn't even feel sick, rather just groggy from sleep. Hopeful, I leapt off the counter, but the impact was much greater than usual.

As soon as my feet hit the floor, the ground rumbled a tiny bit. I had to check to make sure I hadn't broken anything, and even then it appeared as though a thin layer of dust had wafted up from the tiles. I steadied myself on the counter, taken aback, but nevertheless headed towards my room.

Without turning on a light - as I remembered how it had hurt my eyes before - I easily found my binder in a heap of clothes beside my bed. I slipped off my sweatshirt, now grateful for the darkness as I slipped one arm and then the other into the fabric. As I looped it around my neck, too, it suddenly felt incredibly tight. Now, sometimes it was a struggle to get on my binder because I was tired or still wet from a shower. But here, my muscles surged, and there was no extra friction at all. Frustrated, I yanked it down, my hands robotically pulling at the back part before adjusting the front. I took a deep breath, unprepared for the lack of elasticity.

Flicking on the light switch, I looked into the mirror. From a side view, my chest appeared much flatter than I was used to. No, it wasn't all gone, but it seemed to blend in more like pecs. I ran my fingers along the slippery outside material like a muffled record scratch, and my eyes became easily distracted by the gains in my arms and shoulders. I tensed up, whether from the oddness of the situation or simply to flex, and sure enough I had gotten bigger since yesterday, even just by a little bit. No wonder my binder fit tighter, but I wasn't unpleased.

I pulled on a tank top over my binder and boxers and practically leapt to the couch, ready to relax and admire my muscles, until I remembered Michelle.