The Adorable Spider-Man (Peter Parker)

Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Peter Parker. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for one year, I've been the one and only Spider-Man.

I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

The only father I ever knew Uncle Ben had died, but not before imparting a life-lesson I'll never forget: "With great power comes great responsibility."

And power I had. I could cling to walls, I had super-strength, I got this weird tingle in my head whenever something was coming for me. I even figured out how to create webs stronger than steel with a pair of homemade web-shooters and chemicals anyone can find under the sink.

I've saved a bunch of people, saved the city a few times, made a few hero friends, beaten a bunch of thugs and costumed supervillains.

Right now I'm in my junior year at Midtown Daycare Center for the Scientifically Gifted on scholarship. I've got my three friends Harry, Gwen and MJ, and the four of us are a team. Well, I didn't tell any of them I'm Spider-Man yet. I have no clue how that would turn out if I did.

I couldn't tell my Aunt May either. She'd already lost Ben, so the idea that her baby boy was going out there looking for trouble would certainly put her on edge. So what if I'm a baby? Sure I'm in diapers, but that won't stop me anyway. And besides, I'll be potty trained by my 21st birthday just like everyone else.

The idea that Spider-Man was a 17 year-old baby under the spandex would certainly cause a stir in the media. I could already picture Jameson ranting about how a baby had no place punching bank-robbers.