The Deadly Neighbourhood Spider-Vamps

"Ladies of gentlemen of our fair city, your friend and voice J. Jonah Jameson here with, regrettably, a bitter pill to swallow. It has been a month since the last known, credible sighting of Spider-Man. And yes, while this has happened in the past before it was revealed he was off in space, or another dimension, or travelling through time, I truly do believe that Web-Slinging Menace is gone for good! Vanquished by yours truly and my unending campaign against him. Then, you might be asking, dear viewer: "Jonah? Is this not a cause for celebration? Didn't you once promise to tap dance on the observation deck of the Empire State Building when Spider-Man threw in the towel?"

In any other scenario, I would be putting on my tux and shining my tap shoes, but unfortunately, as always, I am right. Like a modern-day Cassandra, I saw the worse and predicted it's coming. Now, instead of one Web-Head swinging around, there are apparently two of them! All these years, I told everyone: it's an escalation! A slippery-slope! Start with one Spider-Man, and soon we'll have a whole island of Spider-People haunting our shores!

But for now, we are assailed by the pair of mysterious vixens other members of the press have dubbed 'Ghost Spider' and 'Scarlet Spider'. And I say apparently because the existence of these two copy-spiders is subject to much rumour and conjecture at the time. In fact, so much of what is said of these two masked harlots is so salacious, so debaucherous, I cannot repeat it on air, lest my license be taken away. And I cannot, in good conscience, deprive the citizen of New York my voice when they need it most.

The only apparent good news is that these two female menaces lack Spider-Man's penchant for the spotlight, sticking to the shadows to terrorize the good old NYC. So, whether these two phantoms exist or not, I implore you, my loyal listeners: stay ever vigilant! Try to limit how long you are outdoors at the evening or, at the very least, travel with a trusted companion. There is safety in numbers and, together, I know we will survive.

This is J. Jonah Jameson, signing off for the evening."

Mary-Jane Watson pulled back the blackout curtains just in time to see the last trickle of feeble sunlight vanish beyond the horizon, casting the city in glorious tranquility of moonlight. The darkening sky and full moon greeted her like old friends, MJ giving them a toothsome smile in return, fangs glinting in the moonlight. The eagerness to hunt stirred in her once more, the unrelenting hunger bubbling through her undead body, just as it had the previous night and every night since.

After the first glorious night of her vampiric transformation and turning Gwen into her sister and lover, MJ had decided she need a total lifestyle change. As such, her and Gwen sold off their meager possession - including their lame apartments and Peter's ratbox of a house in Queens - in order to purchase their brand new Manhattan penthouse, standing at the top of the skyscraper all alone, the twenty-fifth floor all to themselves. Beautiful women like them had to live in style, after all.

The other remnants of their lives were cast aside too - jobs and friends and family. Most people that knew them just assumed they were in shock due to Peter's sudden ****, despairing and mad with grief, and anyone else asking questions got whammied by the pair's hypnotic eyes and sent upon their merry way, dazed and stupid and ignorant. MJ and Gwen were free of any sort of responsibility or burden that would have come with mortal life, now living only for the night. Gwen seemed hesitant at first, but MJ's thrall quickly turned around when she realized they could live as extravagant a life as possible, furnished by a never-ending tide of sugar daddies and sugar mamas. Even without their gaze, the two newborn vampires were so gorgeous and alluring, the elite of New York were falling over to win their favour - politicians and celebrities and criminals one-and-all become the patricians to the pair.

With her transformation fully complete after turning Gwen, MJ began to have a conscious understanding of her new form, her strengths and weaknesses and limits and quirks. Anyone she bit would turn soon into a creature like her, so her and Gwen had to be discreet with their feedings, draining any victim they came across dry.

"But why?" Gwen had asked one night, after luring a couple out of some shitty club into the alley behind it. Gwen had the man in her arms, blood pouring from the wounds on his neck, crimson smearing her lips and gums. She licked them clean and fought the urge to go back to feeding. "Wouldn't it be fun to have a few more cuties around to play with?"

"It would be, yes..." MJ replied, tersely, upset Gwen had interrupted her feeding. The woman, pale and breathing heavily, was spasming in her arms, riding the end of an orgasm. "But this is New York fucking City! A mecca of superhero activity. If they found out there was a nest of vampires on their home turf, they would come down on us without any mercy."

Gwen nodded but pouted, her cute expression enough to tug at MJ's dead heart. "But don't worry, love." She tendered stroked the cold cheek of the blonde. "I have a plan..."

"P-please... please..." The woman croaked, weakly. MJ hissed angrily and dove right back in, tearing into the supple flesh of her prey, messily finishing her off. Gwen giggled maliciously before doing the same to the dead woman's boyfriend, lovers perishing together. How romantic...

Then, for whatever reason - a quirk of her biology or Peter's - MJ discovered her absorbing Peter's spider powers were not a one-off. She could potentially gain any superhuman ability if consumed the lifeblood of such an individual. That factoid caused her to curse her dead husband, as most of his enemies were more science geeks wielding fancy gadgets and suits.

Yes, one of the first things she and Gwen had done as a team was eat their way through Spidey's rogue's gallery. Vulture, Shocker, Mysterio, Rhino, Doc Ock, Chameleon, the Prowler. Even low-tier losers like The Big Man, The Beetle, The Finisher, and Tarantula weren't safe from the hunger of Mary-Jane and Gwen. MJ smiled at the memories, but it quickly turned into a scowl. The thrill of the hunt was more fun than the prize, each villain lacking in powers, possessing a small cock, and having no stamina, with thin tasteless blood. Fun to kill, but deeply unsatisfying to fuck and drink.

Electricity danced between the gaps of MJ's fingers, bringing the smile back to her. At least Electro had been so kind to donate another power to her.

Similarly strange, she did not pass these powers onto Gwen, though she assumed the latter could absorb powers from her victims. Instead, as an oddity of their vampirism itself, the two possessed different powersets. So while MJ could wall-crawl, shoot webbing from the spinnerets on her wrists, had the Spider-Sense, and was slightly stronger, Gwen could jump farther and higher, was much faster and agile, and was even starting to learn how to hover and fly on her own. Her movements reminded MJ of the elegance of a ballet dancer, the eroticism of a stripper, and the cold bloodlust of an assassin. Utterly, utterly gorgeous.

"Are we ready, love?" Gwen asked, snapping MJ back into reality. Speaking of utterly gorgeous, the lithe blonde was finishing suiting up in her new outfit, only lacking her mask and with the hood down. She looked good with her hair switched from a neat bob into a more stylish, punkier do, the black and white spandex of her suit hugging the curves of her body so tight, one could make out the new barbell piercing through her erect nipple. What a slut, MJ thought. Of course Gwen went commando.

"Always" MJ purred, stalking over to her friend, her thrall, her lover. "Another night of fighting, feeding, and fucking with my bestie. What else could a girl ask for?"

Whereas Gwen covered herself head-to-toe and let her silhouette do the talking, MJ thought it would be a disservice not to show the slovenly masses of New York her glorious body, so the busty redhead clad herself in a skimpy latex leotard - jet black and bloody scarlet with silver web patterns crisscrossing about - the top shimmering in the evening light, even as eyes were drawn to the slut running down from MJ's neck to her navel, massive amount of pale cleavage and her taut tummy bared for the world to see. Thigh-boots of black latex clung onto her legs, tight as lover's embrace, with a six-inch spiked stiletto capping them, metallic and razor sharp. She finished her new ensemble with silken tights on her legs and matching gloves on her arms, embroidered with a spider-web pattern.

And no mask! MJ didn't dare hide such a stunning face, especially when she found some tech developed by her nerd of an ex-husband. A small disk adhered to her temple generated a some sort of field that not only scrambled her appearance on electronic and digital surveillance, but caused anyone who might recognize the world-famous model and actress to be stricken with sudden face blindness. MJ could walk right up to her old boss and he wouldn't recognize her.

"Mmm... lovely as always 'Scarlet Spider'."

"And you too, 'Ghost Spider'."

The two vampiric Spider-Women shared a snicker at the names they had been given. Playing superhero had been Gwen's idea. There were so many petty criminals in the city, no one bat an eye if you assaulted them, so long as you were clad in spandex and wearing a mask. It was also a nice alternative from clubbing or playing hooker. Not to mention that, despite avoiding the limelight, Ghost Spider and Scarlet Spider had become very popular very quickly with a certain subsect of fans. Perverts and horndogs thirsting for the scantest bit of information regarding New York's newest "heroines".

Pushing away her possible legion of **** fanboys, MJ sauntered over to Gwen, pulling up her mask, slightly. Just enough to reveal her lips. "So, what do we want to do tonight, my love?"

Gwen's answer was to pull the sexy redhead closer for a kiss, the tongues of the two vampires dancing together, gentling scraping them against the tips of their fangs, never enough to pierce the flesh, but just enough to send their libidos blazing. MJ moaned into the mouth of her thrall, feeling her nipples harden beneath her leotard, her sex heating up, the only part of her body with any warmth to it.

"Hmm... fuck...' Gwen gasped, tongue licking her lips, red eyes blazing like the sun, bright with lust and gluttonous intent. "I could just stay home and worship your glorious body, MJ, but... let's find a mugger victimizing a cute girl! We'll beat him to a pulp, **** the both of them, and then drink them both dry - to start!"

It took hardly fifteen minutes for them to find someone matching Gwen's description, the blonde cradled in MJ's arms as the latter swung them through the city, from Uptown Manhattan to Hell's Kitchen. Gwen barreled into the mugger, planting her electric-blue flats in his face and sending him careening into a brick wall, while MJ seized his hapless victim and soothed her into compliance.

Cackling like a madwoman, Gwen had her fun slapping the lowlife criminal around before getting down to business. The four of them - mugger and victim and vampiric beauties - tangled together into a tableau of twisted carnality. Gwen straddled the body of the mugger, bending over at the waist to sink her fangs into his muscular neck, the man twitching feebly as his life was drained way. MJ, befitting her position as superior, impaled herself on the cock of the criminal, rocking her hips up and down, moaning and writhing as she milked all the pleasure from this lowlife. In her arms, she still held the poor woman he had tried to rob, forcing her forward to lap at Gwen's soaking wet pussy right through the material of the blonde's suit. And while they were doing that, MJ drank from the arm of the woman, who only mewled and squirmed feebly.

It only lasted minutes, but MJ and Gwen were lost in pure bloodlust - literally and figuratively. As they fed, greedily drinking every last drop of blood they could manage, time became an illusion, the physical world slipping away, with only the stimulation of their privates at the warm blood surging through the systems as anchors to reality. Blood and sex were an indescribable pleasure for the two and mingling them together, it caused them to ascend past nirvana to another plane entirely. Their was no guilt or regret to be found in the two after their transformation, not when they could achieve a high like this.

MJ came. Gwen came. Man and woman withered and died.

It ended as it always did, with MJ and Gwen making out, rolling atop the shriveled corpses of their victims, wildly fingers each other's pussies despite just achieving orgasm, enjoying the taste of fresh blood of the lips and tongues of one another.

"Well, that was fun." Gwen tittered as MJ performed clean-up, unleashing bolts of white-hot lightning on the twin husks, reducing them to ash in moments.

"For an appetizer." MJ grunted. "I'm still starving." Running her arms over the killer curves of her body, Mary-Jan then offered one to Gwen. "Come, my dear, the night is still young and there are so many more pleasures for us to enjoy."