Knock Knock update (Patreon)

“I was, uh, err…” Peter tried to deepen his voice into a really good Barry White impression, but something was fighting against his control, making it hard to think, or hard to put his thoughts in order, or hard to put together something to say other than some massive vocal avalanche of truth, which he tried to hold in, but it was also hard to do that…

“Relax, Peter,” Diana said, her voice thankfully low and him within six feet of her. “I know. And I’m not trying to compel you with the Lasso. I’ll take it off now. I’m aware of how potent it can be.”

She slipped it off him, and a good thing too, because then the news crews caught up with them. Shoving cameras at them, microphones at them. Diana and Zatanna handled it with aplomb—Peter thought they were actually praising him for his heroics on the battlefield—but he couldn’t summon up anything to say for himself. It was all he could do not to pop a boner in front of CNN. He could only hope they were filming him from the waist up; given Zatanna and Diana’s statuesque height and how good they looked from the waist up, that seemed like a safe bet.

“Thank you very much for your journalistic service,” Diana said, her tone brooking no disagreement in shutting down further conversation—it’d already been a nerve-racking few minutes for Peter. “But we can’t take any more questions at this time. Please refer your inquiries to the proper authorities. My colleagues and I need to debrief. Zatanna?”

Zatanna cast a quick spell and with a heady sense of vertigo, Peter realized he’d been teleported. They were on top of One VanderBilt, the skyscraper under construction that’d been abandoned for the day, the upper levels open to the sky but concealed by a morass of scaffolding and rain tarps. Peter wondered if Zatanna had deliberately sent them here or if her magic had just automatically brought them to the nearest privacy three people in supersuits could get.

“Debrief?” Zatanna asked ruefully. “Diana, I thought you were the Goddess of Truth.”

“I used to be,” Diana corrected her teasingly. “And I wasn’t lying. We do need to debrief Peter—unless we want his poor costume to get even more ripped than it already is.”

“Then we’re taking the costume off?” Zatanna pouted. “I kinda like it.”

“We’ll leave most of it on. Even if it keeps us from seeing that handsome face.” She rolled Peter’s mask up over his jaw. “But I’m not giving up that mouth.”

“Wait a minute… wait… you’re not angry?”

“Angry?” Diana chuckled. “I’m rarely angry, Peter. And after all the fun we had last night, I think it’ll be a few months yet before I’m even capable of it.”

“But I lied to you,” Peter protested, neurotic, unwilling to accept this boon when it seemed so natural that it should backfire on him. “Hid secrets from you. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Diana interrupted him with a kiss. She didn’t seem very bothered at all.

“We had no right to know those things about you,” Zatanna said, petting his costume. From her touch, she seemed to really like the feel of it over his muscular physique. “We just met, after all. But—we are glad we know now.”

“Now,” Diana continued, her lips still held close to his, “we get to reward you for all the good you did today.”

“You can reward us too,” Zatanna added. “All you like.”

“And we’ll do it in the costumes,” Diana said. “It can be really good when it’s in costume.”

She reached under the pteruges of her skirt and drew down a starry-patterned set of panties. Peter felt his jaw drop, seeing hints of her pink sex through the pleat-like streamers rolling down her hips. All of her toned thighs, all of her juicy ass, at least half of it constantly on display…

He didn’t sense any motion from Zatanna, but something caught his eye. When he turned to her, her bloomers were off. He could see her cunt through her fishnet stockings, winking at him in glimmers of wet pink.

“How did you—“

“I am a magician, Pete.”

“One more thing,” Diana said, reaching for his forearm to pull his sleeve down away from his glove, off his webshooter. “Can I borrow this?”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” Diana grinned fiercely. Her deft fingers unlocked it and she pried it off his wrist, handing it to Zatanna. “Here.”

“Why me?” Zatanna asked.

Diana tapped her own bracers. “I don’t take these off, Zee.” Then she slanted her eyes at Peter. “You don’t mind, do you—‘Spidey’?”

“Mind?” Peter squeaked.

She pushed him down onto the concrete floor, both gentle and inexorable. It was not exactly that Peter couldn’t resist, but that he so didn’t want to.

“Your reward,” Diana drawled lovingly, “is that you’re not going to have to do absolutely anything this time. We’re going to do it all for you. All you have to do is stay hard.”

“We know how good you are at that,” Zatanna snickered, clasping the webshooter on her own wrist. “How does this thing work?”

Peter couldn’t quite believe this was happening to him, or that he was going along with it—it seemed more like one of Felicia’s fantasies than his own life. But if he was dreaming, he could wait to consider how much of a pervert he was until he woke up. “You use your ring and middle finger. Double-tap the little tab and hold it down—it goes in your palm.”

“Oh, I see. That’s clever.” Zatanna grinned at Diana. “Why’d I spend so long learning magic when I could’ve just used one of these? Nothing up my sleeve…”

The next thing Peter knew, Zatanna had webbed his arms and legs to the ground with him spread-eagle, laid out just the way the girls wanted him by Diana. She finished the job, drawing down his pants until they were underneath his cock. It sprang up into the air like the skyscraper they’d taken shelter in.