And Babies Make Five

Mary Jane wore a belly shirt under a fluffy white jacket. It was a loose shirt, though her bust was so big from her recent pregnancy that that hardly mattered, the folds of cloth wrinkling and stretching around her extravagant cleavage. The abbreviated hem of the shirt showed off her taut, smooth belly, without a trace of postpartum fat or even stretch marks as her waist tapered into a slight dimple and then expanded to the hips filling her tight-fitting jeans. All the way down to a set of calf leather boots, Mary Jane’s legs were long and slender and perfect, with their frayed white tightness at the crotch provoking irresistible thoughts of unzipping the fly or having those denimclad legs comfortably wrapped around one’s body.

Felicia wore a blouse that covered all of her torso, but it was so tight that that hardly mattered either. The fabric adhered to her own equally trim stomach, high-cut over her cleavage, but with lacing running down between her breasts to show off their plentiful curves and complete lack of support, which made it all the more impressive how pert they were despite their plumpness. And as if to make up for her long-sleeved, belly-hiding top, Felicia wore a purple pleather skirt that showed off her legs for miles, its hem flailing wildly with each long stride, giving tantalizing glimpses of her inner thighs which were every bit as welcome as the cleavage-baring cutout in her blouse.

It was enough to give Peter certifiable hunger pangs.

“You sure you don’t want to come along?” Felicia asked sadistically, linking her arm with MJ. She was facing away from him, and clearly knew that the voluptuousness of her ass was blatantly obvious through her practically skintight skirt. He could see the bulging roundness of her buttocks and the beginnings of the valley between them, her skirt was strained so tight…

A wailing cry from Nathan, Felicia’s half of ‘the twins,’ killed any kamikaze thoughts of Peter trying to join in on their girls’ night out.

“Go. Have fun. Enjoy yourselves,” Peter said by rote as he went to pick up Nathan from his crib. May—his daughter by way of Mary Jane—was in her jumper, and she clapped excitedly as she saw Peter’s comparatively massive height pick up Nathan and give him some rocking.

Peter supposed all parents had moments of not quite believing this was their life. His was probably much longer. He could excuse himself getting into a menage a trois with MJ and Felicia. Once the two of them were cool with ‘sharing’ him, and indeed excited at the prospect, there wasn’t much he could do to resist. He supposed it was a natural byproduct of Mary Jane and Felicia becoming friends. One too many times spent with Felicia on bodyguard duty while Peter dealt with the threat, and they’d decided life was too short not to include a relationship with sex this spectacular.

After that, it was the Parker Luck. Even his good luck was Parker Luck. Felicia wasn’t a fan of condoms—having her own, exceedingly detailed ideas of how such things could be disposed of. Mary Jane, meanwhile, was on some crash diet for a role that didn’t let her use the pill. And between the three of them, there’d been mix-ups, confusion. He’d used condoms with Mary Jane but not with Felicia, and with Felicia but not Mary Jane, and so MJ had gotten pregnant. Then, as if she’d just been waiting for Mary Jane to test the waters, Felicia had announced her own pregnancy a few months later.

Which, Peter felt, was a bit excessive. You never heard of people getting two dogs at once. Why have a baby and then another baby before the first one had even learned to crawl? But what could be done? Mary Jane wanted her baby, Felicia wanted her baby, and Peter wanted both of them to be happy.

Not that he’d been much help in that department. He still had his responsibilities, and so despite wanting to do his fair share of the child-rearing, it’d more often ended up that he was called away on an emergency. Felicia was left caring for the ‘twins’ while he and MJ went out, or MJ babysat while he and Felicia went out. The obvious third option of him watching the kids while Felicia and Mary Jane enjoyed themselves had been problematic to implement, no matter how fair and feminist it was.

But now, Peter was determined to carry his weight. The X-Men were in town, foregoing the Danger Room to do their ‘training’ by combating street crime. The Avengers and the Fantastic Four were both in New York, ready to step in as well. Even the Guardians of the Galaxy were in near-Earth orbit. Spider-Man’s services would not be required.

Mary Jane was not so sure.

“I could always stay,” she said, turning around to give Peter another look. “Felicia can make her own fun. And there’s nothing wrong with a cozy night in at Casa Parker.” She grinned to herself as she thought about it. “It might even be a little romantic…”

Felicia put an arm around Mary Jane, stealing her away as easily as diamonds. Right on cue, Nathan cried again. Peter renewed rocking him, the little guy making joyously outraged screeches as Peter zoomed him through the air, which was a damn sight better than crying. There was a difference. There was such a difference.

“Oh no,” Felicia said, patting Mary Jane’s rump. “You have had enough of that for the week. It’s Peter’s turn. Come with me, there’ll be dinner, a movie, dancing—if you’re still in a romantic mood, I’ll make sure to leave enough of you for Peter.” She grinned fiercely at her beau. Fierce, but affectionate. “Not that he deserves a reward for babysitting his own kids, but I’m nice like that.”

Peter refrained from pointing out that no one had elected he be in charge of birth control and, in fact, the actions that had led to two very uncontrolled births had been very vocally demanded and greatly enjoyed.

In relationships, as in art, a certain amount of poetic license had to be taken. 

“I might just take you up on that,” he told Felicia.

Felicia gave Mary Jane one last tapping touch on her ass. “If you’re still up, I mean. Parenting can be a bit tiring. If you’d rather sleep—that is just more of Red for me…”

“Can you two not flirt with the babies around?” Mary Jane asked, going to May in her jumper. “You’re going to give these two something Oedipal.” She bent down to kiss May’s head and push a rattle into her stubby hand. “Be good for daddy, sweetheart. He works really hard to put a roof over your head and he’s saved the world a lot.”

Felicia melted similarly, giving Peter a simple, genuine grin of fondness as she went to embrace him and nuzzle Nathan. “You be good too. You’re a Hardy. If you’re going to be a dick, you have to be stylish about it.”

“I can handle Doctor Octopus and his four tentacles,” Peter said. “I think I’ve got two babies.”

“Uh-huh,” Felicia said, kissing him on the cheek. “Sometimes I can’t believe you bagged a hottie like MJ.”

“What about you?” Peter asked her.

“Well, me, I’m shallow. The moment you did that thing with your webbing, I was a goner.”

“Our kids are going to grow up to dress like Emma Frost, I swear.” Mary Jane kissed Peter on the cheek too, her own lipstick mark overlapping Felicia’s. “Really, call if there’s an emergency or whatever. I’d rather be here if you need me than at the club downing a Cosmo.”

“Oh God, you’re turning into me,” Peter said. “Please, sir, may I self-sacrifice some more?”

Mary Jane grinned at his poor urchin voice. “There are worse people I could take over.”

“MJ, c’mon!” Unsentimental as ever, once again, Felicia was at the door. “We need to see my dealer quick if we want the mushrooms to kick in at the movie.”

“She’s joking,” Mary Jane said. 

“Hey, with me, she puts on black leather and we beat people up together. I’m not judging.”

***

They were having a contest, he could’ve sworn to it. A contest to see who could cry the loudest. He picked Nathan up, rocked him, burped him, gave him formula, but how was he supposed to be calm when May was crying up a storm? And when Peter set him down to hold May, it didn’t take long for Nathan to start crying, wailing, carrying on. Finally, he was holding them both, one on each shoulder, prancing around and high-stepping and parading and stomping and doing whatever he could to convey a rocking momentum onto two babies who were apparently far too close to being stationary for any degree of comfort.

Is this how whiny I am? Peter wondered. It’s my DNA. I’ve never known Mary Jane or Felicia to be big on complaining. Surely, I don’t cry this much. I just… think a lot. Everyone thinks about how unfair their lives are. Don’t they? Maybe I do it more than anyone else. Maybe these kids cry more than anyone else’s because they have my neurotic DNA.

It was then that he had an idea. Peter didn’t know if he would call it a bright idea, but at that moment, he was up for anything. 

Setting the babies down for a moment—which got renewed gales of sobbing—Peter snatched up one of his webshooters, locked it around his wrist, and shot a webline up to the ceiling. He attached the free end to the back of Nathan’s onesie. Just like that, Nathan was hanging there, supremely bemused over his new circumstances. Even May looked confused over what had become of her half-brother.

Peter gave Nathan a supremely gentle push, sending him swinging on the webline a matter of inches. Nathan cooed and giggled, enjoying himself immensely—wait until you discover redheads, kid. May was also babbling in fluent toddler, gesticulating with clumsy wildness. Peter picked her up and gave her a little shuffle up and down, but she was still reaching out for Nathan. Peter shot up another webline, securely wrapping it around May and affixing it to her onesie, then letting go of her to bob there at the end of the webline. They both happily flailed around, enjoying the dramatic sways that their wiggling movements caused.

Peter checked his watch as he walked to the couch. He had no desire to test the one-hour time limit on his webbing with the fruit of his looms—hey, pun—so he promised himself he’d take them down in a simple half-hour. In the meantime, he would set the couch cushions underneath them, just in case. And he would play a DVD of Tiny Toons that he had picked up at an FYE sale. For the kids, of course. There was no way he would let them watch one of those modern cartoons where all the characters were spasming Flash animations. 

He gave May a little push towards Nathan. May pushed Nathan, sending them swinging away from each other, then they drew closer than before, pawing at each others’ chubby bodies with clumsy hands. May gave Nathan another push and he spun a little with confused momentum.

Heh, Peter thought. Baby Thunderdome.