Peter quickly freshened up and changed into his usual school clothes: simple pants, a button-down shirt, and a hooded jacket with its zipper left open, the familiar outfit he wore every day.
Once dressed, he headed to the living room for breakfast. Aunt May was already there, seated at the dining table, sipping her coffee as usual.
She was still in her thin nightdress—the fabric light enough to reveal the smooth lines of her arms, the soft curve of her thighs, and the gentle swell of her upper chest.
Normally, Peter would have glanced past those details without a second thought. But this morning, for reasons he knew all too well, the dream still lingering in his mind, his gaze caught on them. A strange, unwelcome warmth stirred inside him—an attraction he had never felt toward her before.
The hell, what are you even thinking, man?
He scolded himself sharply, forcing the thoughts away before they could drift into darker territory.
Aunt May looked up at him, her smile carrying a trace of embarrassment.
"Sorry, dear. I should have knocked before opening the door."
Peter's ears caught her apology, and the memory of what she had walked in on flooded back. Heat rose to his face, embarrassment tightening in his chest. He quickly pushed it down and forced a casual smile.
"Oh, it's okay. I just woke up early today. Don't mind it, Aunt May."
May returned the smile, watching as Peter moved into the kitchen to fix his own breakfast. She could have served him, of course, but the young man had insisted he wanted to do things for himself these days, so she let him. Still, her gaze drifted upstairs with a quiet sigh—the thought of his messy room, so cluttered that the small space felt even more cramped, lingering in her mind.
Peter returned moments later carrying a steaming cup of coffee and a plate with bread and jam—his usual breakfast. Nothing special, but there wasn't much he truly disliked, so it had become routine.
May took another slow sip from her second cup of the morning, the warm bitterness steadying her as she asked,
"So, when is your tour to Oscorp?"
Peter's head lifted at the word, his chewing pausing mid-bite. He looked across at his aunt and answered,
"Well, it's just the day after tomorrow now. We'll go in the morning, and it'll be just a two-hour tour."
May nodded, her expression thoughtful.
"So, do you have really planned to work there after your college?"
Peter heard the question and paused, the words settling heavily in the quiet morning air. He pushed his plate slightly aside and let his thoughts drift to the future his aunt had just mentioned.
He had always wanted to work at Oscorp. After Stark, they were the biggest technological company in the USA, and Stark's focus on weapons had never aligned with the kind of work he imagined for himself.
Hmm, what am I thinking again?
The question rose unbidden in his mind.
He didn't know what was happening to him, but the places and people from the dream felt disturbingly real. Many of them were real—Mary Jane, Aunt May, his best friend Harry Osborn—but the way he was suddenly thinking about them felt off, distorted.
Why am I suddenly thinking this weirdly?
A strange unease washed over him, as if he were no longer quite himself. He felt different, altered by something he had dismissed as nothing more than a dream.
Yet the harder he tried to brush it aside, the more those images and fragments refused to fade.
The knowledge they carried had lodged itself deep in his mind, clinging with an unnatural persistence, feeling less like borrowed fantasy and more like something that now belonged to him.
The hell, how is that even possible?
The unease tightened in his chest, a quiet tension humming beneath the surface of the ordinary breakfast table.
Peter sat there, bread and jam momentarily forgotten, staring at nothing in particular as the weight of those impossible memories pressed against the edges of his thoughts.
May watched his expression shift again, that familiar faraway look clouding his eyes as he sank back into deep thought. She couldn't help but sigh.
"Okay, okay, stop thinking about your career for now. Finish your breakfast or you'll be late again."
Her voice pulled Peter out of his reverie. He glanced quickly at the clock on the wall—only fifteen minutes left until school started.
"Shit."
He blurted the word, shoved the last of the bread into his mouth, and bolted upstairs to grab his bag, footsteps thundering on the wooden steps.
"Don't run on the stairs or you'll hurt yourself," May called after him.
The only reply was a muffled, frustrated "Uhg!"
She sighed again, shaking her head. A moment later Peter came clattering back down, one hand braced on his knee as he caught his breath. He tipped the cold coffee to his lips and downed it in a single gulp.
"Okay, I'm going."
"Wait," May said, rising from her chair. She stepped close, wrapped him in a warm hug, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay? Don't be this clumsy."
Peter nodded, a small smile breaking through. "I will. Take care, Aunt May."
May pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Take care. Love you."
"Love you too," Peter replied.
He slipped out the front door, bag slung over one shoulder. May stood in the doorway a moment longer, watching him go, the corners of her mouth lifting in a soft smile.
Haah, hope he doesn't get hurt again.
The thought lingered as she turned back to the table. She looked at the empty dishes, let out another quiet sigh, and began clearing them away, carrying them to the sink. She still had to get herself ready for work.
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If this twisted take on Peter Parker has you hooked, make sure to add this fanfic to your library and send as many power stones and comments as you can.
And if you're craving something even bolder, try my original novel: Breeding Bull: Husbands Ask Me to Satisfy Their MILF Wives.
Well… I don't think I need to explain what this one's about. If you know what I mean.