Spider-MAN (Trans Peter Parker Story)

Chapter Nine: Binders and Blood

Peter dropped his backpack in the now designated-backpack-corner and hurled himself onto his bed. Ah. Much better.

Peter just laid there for a while, listening to the silence.

   Eventually he got up and decided to hop into the shower. He wriggled his binder off over his head, sighing as he finally pulled it off. Oof. That's better.

   He turned the water on until it was rather warm to the touch.

   Peter let himself relax, his bottled up anxiety washed away by the streaming droplets of water.

Peter stepped out of the shower and dried off with a light blue towel. This towel looks kinda tech-y. Huh, cool. He put on another favorite pair of boxers.

Peter looked at his tank binder. When was the last time I washed this? He sniffed it. Bwah-huh-huh. Yeah, it needs washing.

Peter turned on the sink, making sure the plug was in. When the water was warm enough, he put the binder in.
I can see my chest in my peripheral vision...

He quickly went over to his backpack, dumped the contents all over the floor, and searched the mound in haste.

There you are.

   He grabbed his black half binder. This was his personal favorite. Better ventilation, not to mention you could just barely see his hard-earned abs under his Spidey suit with this binder on.

Peter pulled it over his head, pushing his arms through. Gah.

   His arms were stuck above his head. It took about five seconds before the panic was brought in. I'm stuck. I'm stuck? I'm stuck. Shit.

He looked around frantically, arms raised above him like some velociraptor mom awaiting its dinner, swiveling in circles.

This is when Peter learned that the binder is an asshole.

   So this is how I die. Great! I can see the headlines now:
Spider-"Man" found dead in Avengers Mansion by Tony Stark.
The Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker, has been found dead in Avengers' Mansion this morning with BOOBS of all things. It seems this so-called Spider-Man's secret identity was more than just a name. It was also a gender identity. Har-dee-har-har.

Peter groaned. This cannot be how I go. Why did I put this stupid binder on right after getting out of the shower? I was basically ASKING for it.

Peter tried and tried to pull it down, but his fingers kept slipping. Spider-fingers? More like butterfingers. What the hell, man? His anger was definitely not helping.

"Gahhh!" Peter yelled in frustration. "Stupid thing!" Peter kicked the end frame of his bed. "Ow! You mother-,"

"Peter? Everything okay in there?" It sounded like Natasha.

   Shit. Um. Think, think, think. "yEaH," Peter lied.

He heard whispering.

   "Peter, I know when people are lying. Can I come in?"

   I've had May help me in this kind of predicament before. No teenager boy wants their aunt seeing them like this, it's just weird. I hate to say it, but... maybe she can help.

"I don't know, Nat."

"Peter, you've either been learning curses with Director Fury or you've done something stupid and gotten yourself hurt."