Shock and Schway update

The future wasn’t what it used to be.

Not that Peter made a habit of time travel, but he’d been to 2099 and it hadn’t been anything like this. But whatever flying cars or holographic advertisements or robots he was faced with, he still had his power and the responsibility that came with it. His spider-sense had warned him of three women being kidnapped—Max, who he’d met, and two of her friends, Bobbi and Chelsea. 

Peter intervened, in time to spare Chelsea from being tranquilized. Bobbi and Max had already succumbed. Chelsea said she had a place they could sleep it off and, lifting both the fallen women, Peter followed her to that apartment.

Chelsea, Peter had to admit, looked as near perfection as someone could get. She was blonde, with silver frosting on the tips of her shortly cut hair. She was tall, wonderfully built with high breasts and gorgeous blue eyes. Seemed a bit haughty, if not outright conceited, but she was at least mature enough to put that on hold while the crisis was managed.

Peter got the impression that the place she took him was some kind of spare apartment her father used when he had important business in the city and didn’t want to commute. He set Max and Bobbi down in the bedroom. Chelsea looked at him meaningfully and he left to wash up, assuming that Chelsea would handle tucking Max and Bobbi in.

He waited long enough to start to worry, then went into the bedroom. Max and Bobbi were sleeping under the covers, certain clothes and shoes piled beside the bed. Chelsea stood there like she was in a fugue state. Peter wanted to wave his hand in front of her face.

Seeing him, she put her finger to her lips to signal Peter to keep quiet. Then she shuddered. Peter went to her, putting an arm around her quaking shoulders. She’d been through as much as the other two and no matter how well she was enduring the ordeal, it would still leave its mark on her. Peter couldn’t imagine what those thugs had been planning for the three girls, but ideas had to be running through Chelsea’s mind on a constant loop.

“How are you doing?” Peter asked her quietly. “Do you need to lie down?”

“Let’s… go to my room. I don’t want to wake them up.”

Peter left the master bedroom and went to another room that was apparently Chelsea’s. She threw herself onto the bed, starting to cry. Peter closed the door behind them, sensing that Chelsea wanted whatever pain she was going through far away from Bobbi and Max, even if they were unconscious. He had no idea how to comfort her, but sometimes, it was easier to talk to a stranger than a friend.

He sat on the bed beside Chelsea, putting a hand on her back. “It’s okay, Chelsea. It’s over now. No one’s going to hurt you. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. I promise.”

Chelsea rolled onto her side, groping for Peter’s gentle hand. Her blue eyes were red with tears, streaked make-up running down her cheeks, and even as short as it was, her hair was wildly tangled. It was a testament to her natural beauty that she still looked so attractive despite all that. Peter wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You’re Max’s guy, right?” she asked, now scrutinizing him through her bleary eyes. “I saw you talking to her the other day.”

“We’re friends,” Peter said uncertainly. “My name’s Peter.” 

He hoped Chelsea didn’t ask him how he had fought off six men, not to mention carrying Bobbi and Max for five blocks while weighing less than two hundred pounds himself, but luckily she was in no state to ask questions.

Chelsea gulped, swallowing hard, then smiled at him with perfect teeth. “Peter… you’re the only one who’s here for me… the only one who’s ever really done anything for me, except for… Batman, and it’s not like I can call him up on the phone… Hold me?”

Peter stared at her. The black trim on her white top went right below her breasts, leaving her long, lean belly bare in all its glory, not an ounce of fat, and then the high, short skirt that would’ve been thrown out of any high school he’d ever been to, but that Chelsea wore as a matter of course. The future wasn’t so bad after all. Having her on the bed, calling out to him seemed like some sensual fantasy. 

“Chelsea,” Peter mumbled. “You’ve been through a lot… maybe I should leave you alone. You probably need sleep as much as Bobbi and Max.” His words sounded like they were being said a million miles away.

Chelsea’s skirt was hung up on her thighs, showing the bottom of her panties where they delved between her legs. She made no move to straight the skimpy garment. Peter wanted her. Every bit of desire in his body was crying out for her. He’d always wanted to lie down with a girl like this, with her totally open to his desires, and having her actually there was pushing away even the guilt he felt about fantasizing.

“Come here, Peter. You saved me. You’re my hero.” 

He laid down beside Chelsea, taking her in his arms. He could now look right down the plunging neckline of Chelsea’s top. Peter tried not to, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts. Sweet and supple, perfectly formed, they were one of the best busts he had ever seen. 

Peter felt his cock growing erect. He tried to scoot his hips far enough back that Chelsea wouldn’t feel the mounting arousal through his pants, but she reached back to slap her hand on his thigh, holding him beside her.

“Don’t go. I have something for you… I should reward you. Not just for me… for Blade and Max too.”

She reached into the nightstand and Peter was so expecting a condom that he thought his eyes were playing tricks when Chelsea took out a bottle instead. It was of the futuristic design he was just getting used to: a series of glass cubes stacked on top of each other and locked together. Chelsea seamlessly divided one of the cubes from the others, turning it into a glass tumbler, and then poured the whiskey from the remainder of the bottle into the tumbler. She handed it to Peter, who thanked her and took a long swallow. He flushed as the fiery liquor burned into his belly.

Chelsea smiled at the look on his face. “Did that do the trick, Peter? I don’t want you to feel bad. You saved me; you deserve to feel good.”

“I’m just worried about you,” he said. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy, going through what you did.”

“No, no,” Chelsea demurred. “I’m fine. Do I look like I care about some stupid gang trying to ruin my good time? Listen!”

She laughed giddily, but a sob escaped on the tail of it. She gulped and slumped her shoulders.

“Fine. So I got scared. I’m not scared now. I have you to protect me.”

“That’s right,” Peter said. “You do.”

“And you can protect me, can’t you, Peter? You’re so brave… so strong… you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You said so yourself.”

Peter shook his head, trying to be comforting. He spoke in his most solid voice. “No. I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.”