Ascending Ms. Sablinova
Ms. Sablinova has retired. She lies on her bed, topless. Being the CEO of Silver Sable International can be a lot of work; and it often is. Ms. Sablinova's just glad to collect whatever time away from it she can...even if she does have collect it away from Symkaria's men.
Somewhere in her chambers, wee Peter Parker is on the prowl...like his successor's uncle, only mite-sized...and younger. MUCH younger... Here and there, Peter lurks around the space of this...strange, scary, yet gorgeous foreigner. When she's the size of a titaness, she's more than a gorgeous femme to behold...
There are portraits, and photos, of men in her house. Some are Sablinovas; others are Dooms. There are at least three pictures of male Sablinovas in uniform; one wears a paratrooper's uniform, and another was in the Symkarian Air Force. There are at least five male Dooms who wear the uniforms of Aniana cops. Peter's shocked there wasn't one Doom for each of the Russian Empire's conquests.
In her chambers, she slumbers. Her guard is lower than it's ever been...that Peter's seen.
Like a tiny spider, he wall-crawls her bare thighs. Only her panties conceal her NSFWs from his sight; the dark sure doesn't. They seem short, for 1870 panties... But then, this is steampunk; nothing is as it was for real...just with more steam engines than there could've possibly been during the real thing...
Crap; I'm starting to sound like Gwenpool.
Ah, Silvija Sablinova's thigh. Peter wonders how many women in her matriline had these, in their respective youths. She probably doesn't know half as much about them as she does her Sablinova patriline...despite the fact she's not even part of it. But then, she might...
They're SO developed. They're in their zenith of development. On their surface, Peter often wishes he was smaller. Her thighs are magnificent; O how he already hates Alexander II for taking them for granted, as well as Dr. Doom...
Is it King Victor, or Kaiser Victor, or Tsar Victor, or... Never mind.
She dresses like she's EMOTIONALLY repressed... And she's more free to be so, now that physical repression is no longer a necessity for her...
There is NOTHING physically repressed about Ms. Sablinova to Peter. In all fairness, now HE'S the one who's physically repressed. And as manly as he is, he loves it. He just wishes he could spend every waking moment of it lost atop one of the Silver Sable's valuables.
He's like a mite on her thigh. If she woke, she could crush him like one...and it's unclear as to whether Peter could trust his spider abilities to keep him from dying if she tried...
And now, her breasts. Ah, the mountainousness of them... Ah, their greatness... And to think that in Russia, they thought CATHERINE was the Great...
With his spider abilities, climbing the bottom of her left boob-the one closest to her heart-feels too easy to be right. But he mustn't pass up her boobs. Depending on how she feels about him, this might be the only chance he gets to ascend them. At his size, it's a long way up, and a long way over.
Far ahead, Ms. Sablinova slumbers. It's as if she can't feel Peter at all...
Peter's hard for the Silver Sable. He's never been prouder to be underdeveloped... Alas, he wishes this could last the rest of his life. And he hopes that, deep down inside, assuming that she'd reject him, she wishes it could too...
He's panting. He can't stop. He loves where he's at. Plus, he's worried that Ms. Sablinova is going to wake and crush him like a bug at any moment...
Most of the women in Symkaria hate her. Peter can't imagine why. But then again, he thinks maybe he can... If Morgan were here, she'd sure be competing against her for...
It turns out there's a VERY sensitive reason Morgan isn't here...that's got nothing to do with her age, or where she should be. But that comes later...
Ms. Sablinova's lips are big. They open and close, as they please. Gas blows from them, and enters them...not always predictably, but always soothingly. Veins of weak acid flow from her lips...
As much as Peter doesn't think he should, he perches on Ms. Sablinova's bottom lip. It's wet up here, he can tell. The acid will probably dissolve his hands, if he stays here too long. But as a nerd, he just can't pass up the suspense of being this close to an apocalyptic meltdown...of himself...seventy-five years before the Cold War will begin...
Peter lingers for as long as he dares. Then, he leaps to her upper lip, and continues his climb.
Not a moment too soon, Ms. Sablinova flicks her tongue. Peter freezes with terror. And yet...he's somewhat stimulated by the discovery that Ms. Sablinova has a tongue piercing. Nonetheless, her tongue retreats back into her mouth, and she sighs serenely.
Far away, her boobs rise and fall. Peter almost wishes he was still on them...
He's on the tip of her nose now. It stands high over the rest of her face. It's the peak of it. Needless to say, Peter can see her whole face from here...with Spidey night vision...
This is the face of Ms. Sablinova. This is what makes her unique. This is also the face of Silver Sable International's management... But then, as icy as Ms. Sablinova can be, she probably has PR reps for that...
What's more, it's a face Peter has fallen in love with. Way up here, he's almost forgotten all about Liz...and Morgan...and Ms. Potts...and Ms. Reilly...and Kamala...and even Ms. Brant...as unmissable as she was, at the time...
Up here, he lies atop Ms. Sablinova's nose, sighs, and smiles. For now, and for as long as it lasts, there's no disorder in his world...
Alas, on either side of him, Ms. Sablinova's eyes open. She bats her lashes, and smiles. Peter doesn't notice. He's still in sexual ecstasy...
From far away, the back of her hand approaches his feet. There's a ring on its finger. It isn't a wedding one. In fact...
His briefs, ones that he's designed specifically to be worn under his suit, are metal-lined. Peter screams, as these seem to fly away, with him still wearing them.
They smack into the side of Ms. Sablinova's ring, and stick there. Peter hangs upside-down from her ring, in deathly suspense.
In goat steps, Ms. Sablinova sits up. She commands a bedside lamp, and with high-tech filament-generated light, it follows her orders. It hurts Peter's eyes, even more than Ms. Brant's candle did, as his Spidey sense adjusts to the light. She holds her ringed hand in front of her, and looks down upon little Peter.
He still hangs upside down from her ring, like a little mite. If he was in suspense before, he's terrified now.
"Hmm," Ms. Sablinova says, with a Slavic accent. "This is strange..." She smiles, and flaps her hair. "But...not ENTIRELY unlikeable..." She narrows her eyes. "Or UNLOVEABLE..."
Mere moments later, Peter, no bigger than a woman's fingernail, leaps from limb to limb. He's still too young to generate silk. He appears to be enjoying himself. One day, he'll have these limbs connected in a fine netting of freshly-generated silk...silk that make's Spider-Man's look last-century.
Flies will get caught in it. He won't need his beautiful captor to feed him anymore.
A glass bowl surrounds the wooden branch he now lives on. Through it, Ms. Sablinova, with blue eyes, peers inside. She watches the young Peter mature. She smiles on the inside, and moans happily on the outside.
She is Silver Sable. And she's rich...courtesy of the corporate successes of Silver Sable International.
"Crawl and climb, malenki pauk," she says, in a thick Slavic accent. "Soon your legacy will be a HELL of a lot more than Arachnida's gift to men...and women...with fly infestations...and not to mention TURK infestations..."