Losing control of her powers

It had been a few years since Gwen’s first encounter with the multiverse. Things with her band had been going well, things as Spider-Woman had gone even better, and as much as things still sometimes got pretty dire, she couldn’t complain.

Running into the alternate spider superheroes had helped matters too, seeing how their abilities could all manifest slightly differently helped her get a better handle on how hers worked. Ok, she wouldn’t be dropping anvils on anyone any time soon, but she was starting to figure it out.

That jolt to her spider-sense every time she encountered someone like her, that sense of familiarity. It was nice to know that even if there was no one else like her in her universe.

Something prickled.

She ducked instinctively, only to falter. That wasn’t a warning sign of danger, no; if anything it resembled that feeling when she’d run into the other Spiders. Gwen glanced back.

No. No one; she frowned. Don’t tell her that her spider-sense was misfiring…

There was a pinprick on her shoulder; on instinct Gwen slapped it, then froze.

Wait. She was rather familiar with how a spider bite felt. Was that… huh, that would make a weird kind of sense. If there was another spider out there like the one that gave her powers in the first place, it’d be drawn to her by that same common thread. The same sense.

Kinda cool to think about really. She smiled to herself, idly looking down over the city.

And she’d been bitten again. Part of her wondered what that would do, if it would even have any effects. It wasn’t like she could get powers again. Gwen shrugged, moving her hand down from her shoulder-

Only to stop as she only succeeded at tugging on her costume. Wait a second…

She pulled again, her hand staying stuck to the white of her outfit over her shoulder, doing little more than pulling the fabric out a little.

Well. That answered one question; apparently the fresh dose of radioactive spider made her powers go haywire. Tentatively Gwen tried to focus, remembering how she always used to relax in the early days, before she’d gotten a handle on this.

Beneath the white mask and hood, her eyes widened. No, no…

She’d seen Miles when he’d first gotten his powers, losing control of the sticking and ultimately running shirtless along the side of a building. It had raised a few blush-worthy memories for her when she’d first been trying to get control, and she hadn’t had any mentor to explain things to her.

They weren’t days she had any desire to repeat. Gwen swallowed, then did her best to forget her nerves. Just relax, her hands didn’t stick if she relaxed…

Nothing. She tugged again, hand staying stuck to her top.

Great, and she was on top of a rooftop. She couldn’t swing home one-armed, and she couldn’t walk anywhere like this!

Maybe… She glanced down at her shoulder, white-gloved hand still not letting go of the fabric. Maybe if she was fast? She’d come up with so many plans in the early days of her powers in case it happened again, even if she’d thankfully never needed to test any of them, she was better now. She was Spider-Woman, she wouldn’t be slowed down by this!

If she tugged as hard and as quickly as she could, maybe she could tear the material before the spread too far. Ok, missing a handprint wasn’t great, but it was better than losing more. Then she could get somewhere less out in the open and work through this.

Gwen took a deep breath. Ok then, just…

She yanked, and then yelped as her efforts availed her nothing. More than a handful of white ripped away, the tear spreading up to the seam around her neck, and down to the black that covered her midriff; a stray finger too had managed to catch on her bra strap, snapping it in two.

Instinct made her react, and do the absolute worst thing she could have done.

Her goal was simple. One of her boobs, on the right, was suddenly out in the open, and even if she was up on a quiet rooftop she hardly wanted it exposed. She wanted to cover it with her other arm, which meant hastily lifting her right arm from her side and crossing it over her chest.

Problem one, as she swiftly became aware, was that her hand was brushing her leg. The black of her suit there didn’t survive the tug, tearing again once more and ruining her panties with the same motion, white falling in shreds with the black, all staying stuck to her hand.

Problem two was that the end result was covering the exposed half of her chest with her forearm, and pressing her still haywire hand to the clothed half of her body.

Gwen whimpered.

The Spider-Woman faltered, standing on the rooftop. Technically she still had all her outfit; her mask and hood was still thankfully in place, the seam connecting it to the rest of the suit giving the tear the easy place to stop. And the rest of her outfit was in her hands, but beyond that…

Her legs were bare, black strips trailing in the breeze from her right hand, pale panties just peeking into view, a neat blonde triangle over her exposed pussy caught a glimpse of sunlight that Gwen had never wanted it to see.

And her top half, technically, was more decent. Ok, half of it was exposed, her left arm purposefully keeping away from touching anything else, white material still stuck to her palm. But past that all she wore amounted to half a top, a loose bra strap dangling over her right wrist, her hand positioned such that she was fully aware that if she moved her hand without unsticking, she’d end up stark naked except for her webshooters.

“Not again,” Gwen murmured. She was scarlet-faced behind her pale mask, the wind on the rooftop making her pale, lithe body squirm.

She really didn’t want to move her arm. She really didn’t.

But no matter what she tried in her head, the sticking wasn’t going away. Each tug made the pathetic remains of her outfit strain, and all her old tricks to relax weren’t making a bit of difference.

This had better wear off soon…

But until then, she needed to be able to move. She couldn’t just wait nude on a rooftop, and either way she only had a spare outfit at home, to say nothing of trying to find a solution…

She flushed and, bracing herself, tugged. She winced at the familiar tearing sound as the last of her costume was wrenched away, bra and suit sticking to her other hand. Not even daring to cover up with her arms, Spider-Gwen stood on the rooftop with nothing but her webshooters and mask to her name.