Boy It Sure is a Good Thing I'm Not Asian

That Old Perverted Luck - Say hello to your little sister, Mayday…
Synopsis: A widower Spider-Man has been a single father for years. He catches the attention of his daughter’s tormenter, and things escalate from there.
A buzz in the back of his head awoke forty-four year old Peter Parker. Alone in bed, the sunlight just barely creeping in, slowly waking from dead-to-the-world sleep, his arm rises and fumbles for the cord of the alarm clock, It’s two minutes beforehand, he tells himself. Two minutes before the alarm goes off. His spider-sense hadn’t dulled over the years. If anything, it got stronger.
Seeing the alarm as a threat, to his blissful sleep, reflexes urged him to smash the device like a house of cards. Peter still possessed the supreme muscle control of his youth and stopped short. His will, tempered and strengthened for being a father for eighteen years, guided his hand gently to the cord before he yanked it out of the wall, all without looking up from his pillow.
He smacked his lips. The bed was empty, as always. A fact he’d long gotten used to. His spider-sense went off again – the birds would start chirping in five minutes, just enough time to get some more shut eye. Just five more minutes, and…
Fading in and out of consciousness, Peter managed to pull himself out of bed. His eyes blink blearily and half-heartedly, not ready to be put to use. You’re Spider-Man, act like it, he laughs to himself in sleepy delirium. But he’ hadn’t been Spider-Man in years.
Fine. You’re a Dad, act like it.
Peter extracted himself from bed and headed toward the kitchen, Time to make breakfast for his little girl. Big day! She had a test. She’d ace it as always. She was her Daddy’s little thing.
000
The years had been kind to Peter Parker. It was one less thing to worry about, and one more thing to thank the spider that bit him for. He was still in his physical and mental prime, as fit as he was at twenty-one, if not even stronger. He looked no older than twenty-five. The threat of greying hair was fair and away thanks to his superhuman healing factor, the cause for his longevity. But, to keep up appearances he’d once in a while have to dab some grey at his temples. Hard for people to believe he was the father of an eighteen year old when he looked less than a decade older.
Little May Parker. Little Mayday Parker, that is. She was the light in Peter’s eye, the fire in his soul, the purpose to his life. Peter Parker loved his daughter more than anything, and that was why he hung up the webs. It was a no brainer, not even a question worth considering. Especially not after MJ…
Mary Jane Watson Parker died during childbirth. It had been close, too close. Little Mayday almost didn’t make it. Having lost the love of his life Peter wasn’t about to let their daughter remain alone. Spider-Man had his time, and it was time for Peter Parker to raise a family. What family he could have, anyways. With MJ’s death, and May’s death behind him, he hadn’t felt so alone in years.
Mayday changed that. She was a brilliant, well behaved girl, perfect as a child in every way. She had her father’s smarts and her mother’s kindness, and was a mixture of both, physically. Though he would never admit it, Peter was a specimen. A late bloomer, even without the spider-bite that turned him into Spider-Man, he would have been a handsome man. His genes with Mary Jane’s created a beautiful, star striking young woman. She was intelligent, had the highest GPA in her school’s history just like her father, and was participating in so many extra-curricular it made Peter’s head spin.
Because the reason for all of it was becoming readily apparent. Peter had hoped it wouldn’t be so. That his powers would not have passed down to his children.  The thought of them never being in danger buoyed his soul, but… if they were anything like him, there would be that responsibility. They’d want to take up his legacy, and Peter didn’t want that. He didn’t want little Mayday to want to serve a world who didn’t deserve or appreciate her, and the world did not deserve her in the slightest.
Because the world could have called Spider-Man a menace all it wished. A murderer and a monster and a villain, but they would never treat his child the way they treated him. Peter wouldn’t allow it. Still, the fear remained.
Mayday Parker was nothing if she wasn’t her Daddy’s girl. He saw it in the way she handled herself, that easy confidence that came from natural agility and godlike strength. Her success in sports was always assured, people clamoured to have her on their teams and Peter was so proud. She’d never get hit in dodge ball and fortunately showed less than zero interest in boxing or wrestling, not that she’d ever need it. And then there was the times she slept. Many a night, Peter would have to keep watch over his daughter so she wouldn’t crawl back to the ceiling.
Peter was a stalwart guardian, a sentinel. The world didn’t deserve his child and he would fight it for her. For her mother. Unlike other children, they were close. Mayday loved her father, no trace of a rebellious streak in her. Peter wouldn’t know this, but it was due to her mother, who so wanted a good father. Her child had found that in Peter and instinctually knew not to take advantage. The skinship of holding her as she slept brought them close. Heartfelt hugs before she went to school, quipping conversations over dinner and excited talks about sciences.
There would come a time he would have to tell her who he really was, Peter knew. It would have been easy. Would have, if she wasn’t such a fan of Spider-Man.
000
While Peter heavily guarded against Mayday accidentally using her powers, he couldn’t do the same. His powers were instinctual. After so many years of little to no use, they had built up and seeped into his every day life. Instead of atrophying the spider-abilities became exacerbated in definite characteristics. The chief of which had him crawling on walls without realizing it. His spider-sense was a trusty friend through it all, warning him before someone saw with ample time to spare. It, too, had become stronger.
So entrenched in half sleep, Peter walks on the ceiling and down the stairs of his home for the last fifteen years and into the kitchen. Dropping down, he started to make breakfast on nothing but pure instinct, such was the dedication a father had to his child. OJ on the second shelf, eggs on the top and in the back, everything neatly organized thanks to May. If his bleary eyes failed him is spider-sense would be there, jolting him like a prank buzzer and point him at the right object.
With everything collected he was finally starting to wake up. Egg yolks sizzled on a neat and well-kept black pan next to bacon. The sun spilled in from the double glass doors and the birds started to sing. Letting it sit, Peter treated himself to a glass of orange juice himself and sat at the table, taking in the sight of his home. It was well furnished and expensive looking, but was nothing in the way of the amount of money he had made from his inventions. Nothing but the best for his child. Even himself, after so many years of hard work. Mary Jane would have told him that. She would have loved this place. This home.
Sighing as he looked at the lush green grass of his backyard, the rich wooded fence beyond, Peter set his glass down. The sting of MJ’s death had faded into nothing. She was gone, and she wouldn’t have wanted to cause him misery. Till death do Us part, indeed. Mary Jane wanted him to be happy. And he was. As long as he could ensure that his daughter was safe and happy, then he was.
A loud thud from above, accompanied by a tired groan and the blare of an alarm clock made him smile. He took another sip of his glass, which tasted no less sweet. Yeah, he was happy.
000
Mayday Parker woke up like she usually did. On the floor. She had been sleeping so soundly too, and then it was like someone had put a buzzer on her scalp and set it off. The next thing she knew, she was rising, and then falling, and then… floor.
“So, my old nemesis,” she glowered at the floor. “We meet again.”
With a groan and a growl, she pushed herself up. Falling out of bed was a lot better than what Dad said she used to do. Apparently she had been a notorious sleepwalker. Mayday was more than a little embarrassed to have such a habit in the morning in front of her Dad, but he was the best. She was a teenager, he said. Awkwardness usually goes away. Eventually. Probably. Hopefully.
Thinking of her Dad made Mayday smile widely. Other girls complained about theirs. “My Dad is such a jackass!” Or, “My father is such a nosy jerk!” “I’m eighteen, I can live my own life! I don’t need you.” The thought made Mayday grimace. She couldn’t think of life without her Dad, ever. The prospect of her even saying such hurtful things made her sick, scared, and awful feeling. Her father was just the best, no question. And from how young and fit he looked, she wouldn’t have to worry about losing him for a while.
Her father never talked much about his younger days, but from what Mayday could tell, she was conceived when he was a teenager. It was the only way he could look so young. Sure, he said he was in his forties, but that was obviously for appearances. Her father was far too young to be so old, and it made him one of the most talked about topics amongst her friends. An awkward topic. An infuriating one.
Peter Parker was… fit. More than that, if she could bear to shear her friends and the girls in her class talk about him, he was an Adonis. Nothing but cut muscle perfectly molded from the finest material, and tall too. And a handsome, masculine face and the slightest shadow of facial hair… All the boys looked up to him. All the girls squealed about him. And Peter Parker, through it all, noticed none of it. Mayday sighed. Her father was a ton of things. A top-notch cook, a brilliant man, the best sportsman she had ever seen, and strong, But he was also oblivious to a fault.
That was a good thing, too. Mayday could deal with her friend’s lurid stares at her Dad. She wasn’t afraid of him taking them to bed, she was afraid of them taking him. Their mothers, too. Just as her father attracted young women’s attention so had he attracted their mothers from all round. Husbands thanked him for the reprieve, wives whispered excitedly about him in their little groups, and Mayday scowled. None of them deserved her father. None.
People always gave their condolences for her mother, but Mayday had only ever known her father, and that was enough. He was all she needed, all she’d ever ask for. He never encroached on her privacy like her friend’s dad’s, or bossed her around. He was the perfect father and Mayday wanted to be the perfect daughter… and her friends, admittedly, were good pointers of what not to do.
Mayday was a beautiful young woman. Her hair was a deep, dark red as her mother’s had been a touch lighter, and her eyes were brilliantly green. Soon enough she started to take after her mother in other areas as well, and puberty seemed to have no end in sight for her, unfortunately. But while other girls like Felicity were content with dressing trashy and revealing just to get attention, Mayday was conservative. She didn’t want to be the stereotypical brat on TV, her father didn’t deserve that.
Her hair was cut a bit short. People called her a tomboy, but Mayday didn’t mind. She had the highest grades in school, was naturally great at sports, and people liked her. Herr name was just about known throughout the entire school without ever having to wear lowcut skirts or revealing tops to show her, ahem, things.
Her father should be very grateful. She positively giggled at the thought. No, it was just payment for whoever that gifted her such a wonderful dad. The best Dad deserved the best daughter.
And while Peter Parker was the best father she could ever hope to ask for, Mayday couldn’t help but get… a touch frustrated, sometimes. Just a little. He was perfect! Too perfect. It wasn’t long before her friend’s constant talks about him had gotten to her, and well… She was a growing girl. A curious one. Girls reached maturity faster for the instinctual purpose of bearing children, it wasn’t her fault!
But that was wrong. So, so wrong, unbelievably so. Still, one night while her father slept, Mayday indulged in a curiosity risen from her friend’s babbling. She snuck in and lifted his covers and… damn.
In the past she hadn’t known what to look for, or why it was so special. She had bathed with her father countless times in the past as a child. Insisted on it because she was so attached to her Daddy. That had obviously come to a close rather soon, however she had no idea the significance of his… nakedness.
She had done her research. Penis. For reproduction. The way some girls talked about it, it was a thing to be revered. So many sizes and shapes. Her friends, when they thought she couldn’t hear, and she by all rights should not have been able to hear but her hearing were just too good, had wondered about her father’s… penis. Whispered about how big it must be because of the bulge in his pants.
Just… damn it all! Mayday hated her friends so much for days after that. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind. That night, sleeping and soft, it was half the size of her forearm and nearly as thick! That… that wasn’t normal,that was not in the textbooks. That was not something she was meant to see!
But see it she did, and it was stuck in her mind. Laying flat against his muscular, masculine leg as he slept, easily peeking pas his boxers, choked by them eve. It looked so, so…
Mayday was disgusted with herself. Disgusted that every thought was eventually pervaded by dick, by her father’s dick. Disgusted that she would start to rub her thighs together absently or touch herself without realizing it. Mortified and repulsed by the fact that she came the hardest, seeing white and voice going hoarse into her pillows when she thought about it. Penis. Her father’s penis. Her father’s dick. Her father’s big fucking cock!
And each and every time she’d say never again. It was wrong and disgusting and twisted and… but she’d always come back. It was hormones, that was all. Teenage awkwardness. She’d grow out of it eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. God, she hoped her mother wasn’t watching her.
Of all the reasons to hope an afterlife doesn’t exist, Mayday sighed, brushing her short red hair back. I have to worry about my dead mom watching me masturbate to Dad. Ugh.
She propped herself on the bed and laid back down. It was bright and early and the birds were singing. It wasn’t all bad, though. She had quickly, and shamefully as well as embarrassedly found an outlet for her… proclivities. With a happy sigh she took in her large poster on the ceiling and her hands trailed down lustfully. From her neck to her nipples, to her tight, toned stomach, to her molten lips. She was so wet just looking at him. A clinical mind said it was transference, she was attributing the wrongful feelings to a worthy source, and Mayday ignored it. She had to.
Because the voice didn’t help. It also said that her desire still remained, obviously, because the poster, the photo, had its credits proudly displayed. Photo taken by Peter Parker.
That her eyes darted to those black letters first should have made her question herself. They shouldn’t have made her nipples stand on end and a jolt to rush through her, but they did. They shouldn’t have caused her fingers to work up a sopping frenzy as she played with herself, but they did. They did and Mayday Parker grabbed a pillow to cover her face as she moaned, losing her voice, her eyes taking in the sight of Spider-Man swinging into the sun.
Her first orgasm. It was still early, and Mayday wasn’t planning on stopping just yet.
000
Mayday shamefully got another pair of panties and put them on. They hugged her butt tightly, the product of letting her friends buy her things. They were stretched thin and tested by her hips and backside, two things that made her feel especially self-conscious. They had nothing on the mortification she felt upon holding up her panties soaked with her lust. Panties which had a heart-shaped Spider-Man face on their back.
It was too early, she decided. Too early to berate herself for frigging herself silly just after waking up. The clinical side of herself spoke up, as annoying as ever. It was also too early to orgasm ten times in rapid succession while thinking of her Spider-Man… and her father. She needed to have breakfast first, it was the most important meal of the day.
Then, the voice said with audible eagerness, she could frig herself silly. Twitching, Mayday quieted her mind with effort and stalked to the bathroom, discarding the shameful underwear before getting washed up.
After brushing her teeth and scrubbing extra hard to get rid of the dirty feeling on her, just positively slimy, she exited the bathroom. The air smelled wonderful, and she realized that her father had made breakfast. Of course he did, she scolded herself. He always did.
“Mornin’ Dad!” Her raspy voice sounded through the house.  She could see him already, raising his trademarked glass of OJ to the ceiling with a small smile, never knowing that she had nearly lost her voice because of him.
Mayday forced her smile to stay. It was an effort, but still, her lust was behind her and the entire day ahead of her, and her father had made her favorite breakfast just for her. Three out of four was great. She walked toward the steps and started her descent when her voice caught in her throat.
There was a… buzz in the back of her head and she squeaked. “You okay kiddo?” Her father asked, more amused than concerned. He had faith in his daughter, and that warmed Mayday’s heart.
But the vivid idea that he found her naked body amusing of all things was a mortifying one. Because Mayday, in her infinite wisdom, had exited the bathroom with her shirt, yes her shirt… but no panties. Her lower half was as naked as the sky, and the soft, immaculate skin and the curves and valley of her rather large ass on display for any to see.
Not for long, though. “I’m fine!” Mayday yelled, and charged back into her bedroom before slamming the door. “No I’m not. I’m a freaking spaz,” She groaned after shutting it, banging her head against it. She slid down to the floor, naked ass on the soft carpet. Her eyes went to her drawer. She needed to get a new pair of panties.
The clinical side of her reared its stupid head again. Yes, she could, but now that she was suitably unclothed, it would be the perfect time to indulge in a particular masturbatory fantasy.
Mayday gulped, blinked, and melted as her fingers found her erect little clit, eyes fluttering the ceiling with a shaking, satisfied smile.
000
A quickie later and Mayday was back into sorts with a clear mind, and clear panties as well. But she didn’t bother going back into the bathroom before putting them on. Something about wearing new panties just after masturbating, and going to have breakfast with her Dad did something to her. The thought didn’t take long to get her wet again, and by that point she had already gotten dressed and made her way downstairs.
Mayday was always a morning person. Her father, however, only got up in the morning for one reason – her. To make her breakfast and see her off to school everyday, and Mayday was very grateful. He didn’t need to work because of royalties from his old jobs that kept the money rolling in, so that left him with all the time in the world to dote on his daughter and spoil her rotten.
I guess he did spoil me ‘rotten, Mayday thought guiltily. Maybe if her father hadn’t been as good as she was, she wouldn’t have felt… but she couldn’t even imagine that. It could have been even worse. Without that connection she could have grown into one of those girls with ‘Daddy Issues’. The thought of having a trampstamp was not a seductive one.
You do have Daddy issues, you pervert, she chastised herself, coming to the last step before going into the kitchen. A litany of them.
She shook her head. Peter Parker was sitting at the table by himself. Mayday could smell the bacon and eggs simmering, the stove turned off, and a cold glass of orange juice next to his, right in front of a chair next to his. Because Mayday always sat next to her father, the thought of distance between them was an ugly one. She wiped the growing frown off her face when she saw him, not because Peteer Parker’s golden child couldn’t be upset, but because seeing him made her less so.
All things considered, this is… nice.
He didn’t notice her yet, she thought, and stopped moving in the large doorway of the kitchen. Their house was quite large and with ample space, and the tall, muscular form of Peter Parker dozing off at the kitchen table made it look warm. Her eyes roved over his body. Peter Parker, in the most proprietary sense of the word, was shameless. He didn’t have any reservations about his body, though Mayday supposed that was because of his boyish obliviousness. He had no idea how much her friends, and even her female teachers gushed about him in excited whispers. Or how Mayday would sneak glances at him.
His body looked as though it had been chiseled from marble, smooth, taut muscles straining against his cloth. Biceps fit for a professional fighter and a body that put a male gymnast’s to shame, and that fucking eight pack… Mayday didn’t think it was even possible,  but there it was. All signs pointed to the fact that Peter Parker couldn’t be as old as he claimed, and if he was, he was… amazing.
“Your food’s going to get cold, kiddo,” her father chuckled, making her jump.
Mayday flushed. Her eyes had glazed over and her breathing got heavier, and her hand had trailed down and… right in front of her father, she was going to frig herself in the kitchen! It wasn’t as if he would have noticed, he was asleep, and she would have made it quick.
But he would have, because he knew she was there. He always did. It was some crazy Dad-sense of his, and it made masturbating a chore. But so much better, her clinical self moaned throatily. Absence only makes it that much more enjoyable.
“Thanks Dad,” Mayday forced herself to move, placing a ritualistic kiss on her father’s head. He hadn’t washed yet as she couldn’t smell shampoo, and that was even better. He smelled like Dad.  Forcing herself away with scolding thoughts she served herself and took a swig of her glass before sitting next to him, and promptly slumped against him.
It couldn’t have been past seven o’clock, and she was already dressed. Unlike other kids, Mayday walked to school. They could afford cars, but she had inherited her father’s general dislike of automotive travel. They had a van, of course, but mmostly walked everywhere. She enjoyed that. Running to school was fun, and her clothes reflected that.
She wore a small white running jacket that barely made it down to the middle of her back, and contrasted it with a black, baggy shirt, which of course had a Spider-Man insignia on it.  Hugging her thighs were her running shorts beneath a simple pair of jeans. But she suddenly didn’t feel like running at all, laying against her Dad. Would it be so bad to just stay home and spend some time together? When was the last time they just… talked…
She moaned, rather loudly too, enough to wake her up. The buzzing in the back of her head was reason enough and she jolted, realizing her hands, unbidden, were traveling back to her pussy with a purpose. She could smell him and he smelled so good, so musky and masculine, she couldn’t help herself!
Peter Parker, ever the dutiful father, noticed none of that, his enhanced sense of smell not even registering the familiar scent of arousal. Perhaps it was years of being unfamiliar with it, but that couldn’t be the case. He could feel the eyes of the female PTA members on him and his spider-sense would slightly buzz, as if they were an inch away from pinning him to the wall and riding him like a horse. No, this was because it was impossible for his mind to think about his daughter being aroused. At least so close to him.
Mistaking her moan for something bad, and her jolt for something worse, he seized her with strong, heavy hands, shaking her slightly. “Mayday, are you alright?” He asked, looking into her eyes with visible concern.
She flushed slightly, piercing hazel eyes staring into her green ones. She couldn’t even look him in the eye! “Yeah, I-I’m fine. Just tired,” she faked a yawnthat turned out to be not so fake, and took a sip of her glass.
“That nasty spill you took out of bed probably took a lot out of you,” Peter said, looking warily at her. “While you’re at school I’ll set your clock to give you ten more minutes. Goodness knows you deserve it.”
Mayday started absently fiddling away at her plate, only to find herself tucking in to eagerly. More miserable company for her perverted  fantasies was that she ate a lot, and it was starting to pool in her ass and thighs, which is why she ran. Unfortuantely it seemed to be the result of genetics, and she couldn’t burn it off, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying. The last thing she wanted was to get obese. Her father… probably didn’t like fat girls.
Yeah, he doesn’t like daughters either, stupid. She chastised herself.
Every woman was once a daughter, came the clinical retort. Mayday repressed a groan.
“Just about time for you to hit the road, sweetie,” Peter sighed. Mayday’s internal clock agreed, kept sharp from months of routine. Time to begin her run.
“Yeah,” she acquiesced sullenly, pushing her seat out. Unfortunately her butt got stuck to the chair and it rose with her, causing her no end of misery. Fortunately, her father didn’t notice.
“Have a great day, and be careful,” her Dad gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, and Mayday couldn’t help but to wish it lasted longer. Still, it left her feeling better.
“Thanks Daddy.” She smiled brightly. She left the house almost prancing, and the weight of her ass jiggling didn’t even stop her.