Elevator Pitch

"So... you that superhero?"

"Beg your pardon?" The college freshman nearly chokes. He turns to face me, his shoulder pressed up against the dorm elevator's wall. Chin-length curls of soft gold tumble down and hide his rounded face. I hear the delicate

clk-clk-clk

of his teeth anxiously tapping against a lip piercing.

He's got some sort of budding alt-boy aesthetic going on -- black boots, black choker, black nail-paint. All of it contrasts with his bright white pull-over hoodie. It's a cute look, particularly with his lean dancer-like figure.

"News keeps talking about people trying to figure out this superhero's identity." I offer him a teasing smile. "Figured I'd ask."

He folds his arms over his chest and laughs. There's a nervous energy to it -- but that's no surprise. He's

made

of nervous energy. Even before I spoke, he was tapping his toes. Now he's tapping that piercing, shifting against the wall.

clk-clk-clk

. "How do I know it isn't

you

?"

My smile widens into a grin. "Don't think I have the figure for it." I'm built like an aging linebacker: twice his age, with a massive torso and a slowly forming musclegut. Dense stubble coats my face. A scar that starts at my chin follows the length of my jaw, stopping at my left ear.

He looks me over, then shrugs and turns to the door -- trying to hide his blush. "Yeah, guess not."

clk-clk-clk

.

We stand in silence as the elevator descends toward the ground floor. I take a moment to admire the slope of his back; the topography of his shoulders, the sudden dip at the base of his spine. That toned, tight knot of a backside, wrapped in tight denim.

"You didn't answer my question, though..."

He turns his head to me, teeth clicking. I notice the gap between his two front teeth -- nearly invisible, but just enough to give him a sort of awkward post-adolescent charm. "Hm?"

My eyes darken. Something stirs within me. A low thunder rises from the pit of my chest.

"Whether or not you're the Spider."

clk-clk... clk...

clk... clk...

...clk...

Those bright blue eyes focus on me and only me. In this moment, he and I are the only things that exist.

He swallows.

I lunge.

Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't stand a chance. He might be cute, but this kid is strong enough to rip the elevator doors open with his bare hands. His reflexes are so fast that he reacts to a punch before you even throw it. But these aren't ordinary circumstances: I have a couple of advantages.

For starters? That superhuman reflex of his doesn't give him enough warning. We're also in a tight space; not much room for him to rely on that incredible agility. His back is to me, his guard is down... and I've unnerved him.

My body slams into him from behind, flattening him against the doors. I shove my palm into the 'HALT' button. We both feel our guts lurch up as the elevator stops. His lean, supple figure tenses; he braces one leg against the wall to kick. The force of it will be enough to hurl us both to the other side of the cramped room.

That's when my chest splits open -- letting the force of his kick plunge his upper half into the massive cavity inside me.

Probably should have led with my main advantage: not being human.

He panics. He's enveloped by me; surrounded by a convulsing mass of rolling, churning black that wraps him in living, writhing strands. Each thread secures a part of him; his throat, his waist, his arms, his chest. They pull him into the suffocating warmth of my body, squeezing him tight. I feel him pressed to the membrane of my internal walls. Just as he tries to yell out, my chest closes -- muffling his cries inside of my chest.

"Mmmphhh! Mmmmphhhh--!"

"Shhh..."

I shed my human form. My skin and clothes ripple away to reveal the sleek ink-black surface of my body: Muscular. Powerful. Monstrous. A massive beast of raw strength, carved from liquid obsidian. My eyes are pure white; my mouth is full of serrated steak knives.

The Spider's legs jut out of my chest, frantically kicking. I step back and seize his thighs in my hands, pushing him in. The internal geography of my inner body shifts to make room. His arms are pinned behind him; his chest is arched forward, with his legs squeezed down into the sleeves of my thighs. His head is tilted back, squeezed up into my neck. If I open my mouth wide enough, that cute face of his is visible, squished and gasping at the back of my throat. Like a little kid standing on their tip-toes to keep their head up in the deep-end of the pool.

"--haaaah, haaah--"

He squirms. It's useless -- he's strong, but I'm stronger. Even if I wasn't, he has no leverage inside me; his body is squeezed down on all sides by muscle that feels more like fluid than flesh. He can't get any leverage. He's left to just gasp for air, gulping desperately every time I relax my throat enough for him to breathe.

"--whhh... l-let me... l-let go..." The words are soft and wheezy. He's using what little air he can spare to speak them. Meanwhile, my insides squeeze down on every inch of him, spasming with slow rippling rolls -- grasping at his thighs, his waist, his hips, his chest...

He whimpers at the sensation, suppressing a shudder. I rumble and close my mouth, sealing him in. "Relax..."

He twists frantically, kicking against the internal walls of my body. The outline of his figure is visible against my chest -- his own chest, sleek and muscular; his hips, his thighs... Fighting desperately for air. I grip him through my chest with my own hands, squeezing down on him -- then tilt my head back.

Glp...

I extend a second tongue out the back of my first one and plunge it down into my throat. I can feel it -- even see it in the reflection of the elevator wall -- as it pushes down to his gulping face. The tongue wedges between his lips, pushing into his mouth; I kiss him from inside of myself, thrusting until I find the back of

his

throat. Then I breathe -- air flowing through the second tongue, filling his lungs.

I feel him shudder before calming down. Deepening the kiss, I continue to breathe on his behalf.

The process is slow. Fortunately, we have time: I caught him after midnight, on his way to pick up his clothes from the laundry room in the dorm's basement.

Speaking of which: my inner body begins secreting a wet, transparent enzyme that slowly unravels his clothes. Little by little, his hoodie, his slacks, his boots -- even the cute boxers he's got on -- it's all dissolving, evaporating into a grey mist that seeps out from my shoulders.

"...nnghhh..." He makes helpless little noises inside of me. I squeeze his chest, then drop a hand down to his pelvis -- visible just below my own belly. I squeeze through the membrane of my 'skin', pushing his hips forward into my palm.

"There we go..." My voice rumbles all around him. He's swimming inside of me, trapped and naked; the air I'm feeding him is laced with my own pheromones. It isn't long before the would-be hero is slipping into a dazed state of needy confusion.

I press his hips forward against my belly, my hand, again. I feel something swelling up through my belly, pushing against my palm.

"Good boy..." I whisper. My body squeezes and constricts against him. He groans, shuddering. As his cock swells, my own extends out -- acting as a sheath for his, a sleek extension of black that contains his own throbbing shaft. When I drop a hand down to stroke myself, I'm stroking him, too.

Schlk

...

He trembles, twists -- then groans.

I've enveloped him within myself; a living suit that contains him, yet also controls him. He is bound and helpless, my tongue plunging deep into his mouth in a constant kiss. His throat squeezes as he swallows, drinking me in with each gulp of air. I continue to stroke. My palm glides back and forth, from my tip down to the immense swollen base at the root of my cock.

My ass clenches. I roll my hips forward, and in doing so, feel his own hips rolling with me -- his own ass clenching. Thrusting in time with me. We groan in unison...

"That's it," I tell him. "Give in to it. Mmmn..." Now I'm facing the wall, staring at my own reflection. My massive muscular form is cast in glossy black. My cock juts forward with a subtle upward curve at its center. With each slow thrust into my palm, I can make out the brief outline of my interior passenger -- his face, chest, and hips pressed sharp against my torso before sinking back to be subsumed within me once more.

Schlk. Schlk. Schlk...

He quivers inside me. Now, with each thrust, something is pushing up against his buttocks -- wedging between his toned, squirming cheeks. Probing past that tight muscular ring -- easing into him. Each time, it pushes a little deeper...

Schlk. Schlk. Schlk...

"You belong to us, now, little Spider," I hiss, savoring the sensation of his mounting pleasure as it synchronizes with my own. I'm slowly fucking him, even as I stroke him -- and myself -- off. I can feel his pleasure as if it was my own. It

is

my own...

I feel the moment that he gives in. The moment that he lets go. All the struggle, the fight, the defiance -- the burden of responsibility, of self-control -- slips from him. He relaxes, shivering and moaning. Giving up. Giving in. The tension melts from his thighs; his legs spread, his jaw going slack. He surrenders to my will.

I now know his body better than he does. The little mole on his left buttocks. The tiny scar on his right inner thigh. The dimples in his cheeks; the splatter of freckles across the back of his shoulders. Every inch, every centimeter; I squeeze across all of it, suckling upon him like a warm, nourishing lozenge. And with each clench, each constriction -- each stroke -- his power becomes my own.

The enzymes that dissolved his clothes are now making his skin impossibly smooth and sleek; meanwhile, I'm drawing out his power, drinking it in -- leaving him him helpless and moaning.

The thrusts continue, plunging into his buttocks again and again; his muffled sounds of pleasure become gurgling groans in my throat. We lunge back together as my hand squeezes and strokes our cocks with rapid motions -- until, at last, the force of my orgasm rushes through me.

Pearl-colored ribbons of seed gush out from the tip of my shaft, painting the wall of the elevator in a splatter of white. When the last few shuddering squeezes push out the remaining drops, I groan... and open my jaws wide, retracting my second tongue from my passenger's mouth.

I can see him there, in the reflection of the elevator's wall -- that cute, helpless face, squished up and gasping for air, eyes glassy with need. I can feel his cock inside me, fat and hard, desperate for the climax I only permitted myself to experience.

My chest opens. He slips free -- naked, glistening, stripped of his abilities -- bare and slick as he slumps to the floor.

I close my chest and use my foot to roll him over onto his back. He stares up at me, mouth open, eyes dazed. The only article of clothing that wasn't dissolved is that little black choker.

Like I said: it's a cute look.