Peter Parker (a pretty suggestive name)

It was late at night, and Peter Parker lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Today had been a good day by his standards: He had made three-hundred dollars taking pictures of himself risking his neck to recover millions in stolen goods.

He looked at his watch. 10:16. In one-hundred and four minutes, he would be turning eighteen. He would be able to do... a bunch of things he wasn't inclined to anyway. Damn. Well, at least he would be an adult soon. All his friends had had their birthdays before him, although he wasn't sure how many of them were really his friends. Flash Thompson. Harry Osborne. Gwen Stacy. Betty Brandt (more a co-worker really, but his first crush). Mary-Jane Watson. Felicia Hardy...

Peter was extremely glad he wasn't a mutant. For some reason, all the mutants he'd ever met all had awkward... side effects... happen when they turned eighteen. There was a theory that something called the CHYOO Effect held back the symptoms for them until that time.

But Peter Parker wasn't a mutant, he was a mutate. His powers were the beneficial result of a bite from a radioactive spider.

He knew for a fact that he needed sleep, but he tried to stay awake anyway. 10:45... 11:15... 11:24... he fell asleep.