WARNING: SOME SEQUENCES OF MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

Michelle knows that she has an inquisitive personality, which can lead to some pretty crazy things. In the eight months she spent observing the activities of her classmate, Peter, she has found that he is goofy, unsure of himself, smart, cute, and of course there's the little nugget-of-a-fact that he is New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Sometimes she has to give herself a self-reminder that she is friends with Spider-Man, and that didn't seem to bother her, even when he needed to abruptly leave to go fight the bad guys. However, in the same time of getting to know Peter and his secrets, her feelings for him grew to a point that she wasn't completely aware of, 'the feeling that she needed to make sure he was okay'. Maybe that's why she stopped running away from the lake patio and turned back to see that Peter was okay. She knew that it wasn't the smartest move in the world, but she'd rather know what happens to Peter than find out at home that he had been killed in the fight. Heck, she knew Peter would let Ned in on everything he did in the costume, so why shouldn't she be able to know what goes on when two super-people duke it out. As long as I keep a reasonable distance from the fight, she thought to herself, proudly confident that she'd be fine. Wrong!

Hours later, Michelle drowsily woke from some form of knock-out gas. Her head hung over her lap as the frizzled curls in her hair wildly dangled down. She took slow breaths, trying to comfortably return back to whatever unfamiliar reality she had been taken to by the hooded goblin-looking crook. As she looked upon her lap, she fluttered her eyes until her vision came into focus. As soon as she realized she was leaning over in a chair, she brought her head up, only to groan at the soreness in her neck from hunching over like she was. She rolled her head to release the sore feeling, even tried to lean to the side to get the extra assistance. That's when she realized that her wrists were strapped to the metal folding chair she was sitting in. She tugged at her bonds a few times but came up empty with any chance of escaping. In her frustration, she laid back, causing her to naturally shift her legs forward. Her frustration was soon fueled even further, and she gave an annoyed chuckle at the fact that her ankles were strapped to the chair as well. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me" she groaned, hanging her head over the back side of the chair.

She brought her head back up, taking in her strange new surroundings. It seemed like it was a residential basement, stockpiled with things you would normally find. Plastic containers filled with Christmas decorations were among the many occupants of the far corner, and a refrigerator probably filled beer, vodka, tequila, rum, soda, and other drinks was positioned against the furnace and water heater. To Michelle's left were the washer and dryer, both with their doors open and a sloppy pile of clothes on the floor in front of them, waiting to finally be washed. She could tell they needed to be washed from the smell of mildew coming off the pile. It wasn't the only thing she smelled, as the mildew smell competed with some moldy smell and one distinct smell for dominance in the air. The unidentifiable one didn't smell too pleasant but had a bleachy scent to it. To her, the smell was the strongest when her nose faced the worn-down bed that sat in front of her.

Michelle knew from the noise upstairs that people were definitely in the house. It most likely was a party, based on the thumping beat of the music and the rambunctious cheering sounds of a hundred young adults. As she looked to the ceiling to take in the party sounds, she noticed a digital clock on the wall, reading 3:06 AM, Wednesday, July 5th. She thought maybe the Hood-Goblin guy was tired from such a defeat tonight that he tied her up to the chair, so he could deal with her later. The question was, what did 'dealing with her' actually mean?

Suddenly, the door to the basement opened and revealed to male figures. One wore a black and blue shirt that blended together to create a deep-water effect. Across the front of his shirt, was the head of a hammerhead shark pointing up as an homage to the movie poster of "Jaws." Behind him was the Hood-Goblin himself, but with out the ugly mask on to hide his true face. When Michelle recognized the face, it didn't matter whether the mask was on or not. It would still invoke some fear in what they were planning to do with her, and now that she knew who was under the mask, she knew exactly what the restraints, the bed, and the private basement setting was for.

J-Mac followed the other boy into the basement and tossed his goblin mask toward the end of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, as he had just awakened from a four-hour nap. He went to the bed and striped his hoodie and sweatpants off his body. Now in his undershirt and boxer-shorts, he rummaged underneath his bed for a pair of baggy jeans, smelling them before deciding to slip them on. Meanwhile, the other boy walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer and popped it open with his fingertips. He made his way over to Michelle and looked her up and down from behind.

"You wanna explain why she's here?" Michelle heard the boy say to J-Mac, with a bit of concern in his voice.

"I told you Kev," J-Mac replied, "consolation prize for tonight's humiliation."

"You know who she is, right?" Kevin was quick to respond, and J-Mac assured that he did know who she was and who her father is. "You really wanna go through with this? What if she snitches? You'll never be able to go back to the center, or worse..."

"Naahh," J-Mac snorted, turning back toward Kevin and the tied-up Michelle, "she's told me before, she longs for some fun. She's never felt pleasure before." He paused on his words, glancing down at Michelle to make his statement strong, "Real Pleasure." She shivered at the way he said that, confirming her idea of what he was going to do with her, and she didn't want it. Hell, who would under the circumstances. It's the exact reason fathers are so protective of their little girls, or the reason a group of girlfriends would travel together. "After I'm done with her..." the tan skinned hoodlum continued vainly, "she'll never want to stop coming back for more." He said this as he approached the two in the room, stopping in front of his captive with a cocky smirk. All Michelle could do was look up at him with a dry look on her face, showing how much disinterest she had in what he was doing.

J-Mac snorted again, "If you have something to say, keep it to yourself," and he brought his right hand to the inside of her left leg. Michelle exhaled through her nose at his touch and groaning in a distressful way. She shook her leg to tell him to move his hand away, but the restraints around her ankle made her unsuccessful, keeping her legs in a position to where they were slightly spread apart. J-Mac continued to brush his fingertips along the inside of her leg until it turned into a caress, and soon into a rubbing motion.

"Get your hands off me!" she demanded, wishing she wasn't in this situation. She hoped that it would just end, that he would find some sympathy in what he was doing and let her go. But the way he was rubbing her leg, and soon up her torso, made it clear that he was not going to stop pleasuring himself. She wondered if Peter was outside in costume looking for her, hoping that he would make some heroic rescue that happens in the movies. Maybe the neighbors would complain about the noise from the party and call the police. It didn't matter, any one of those three options would do for her right now. Anything to prevent her from being added to the large number of women and girls being raped in America.

J-Mac growled at her complaint, and slammed his other hand over her mouth, almost causing whiplash from the amount of force he put into covering her mouth. Michelle mumbled a groan from the impact and looked into J-Mac's hungry eyes. "Shut your fine ass up!" he snapped back, "The only opinion that matters down here is mine." Michelle uncomfortably scrunched her eyes together angerly as he instructed Kevin to put a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Kevin walked over to the work bench in the corner as J-Mac worked his hand further up her body, until he reached her chest. In a gentle, tenderly way, his fingers graced over the area of her t-shirt that covered her petite breasts. Again, the gentle tips of his fingers turned into a caress, feeling the fabric of the cotton shirt she wore, and the bra she wore underneath. Michelle groaned again, this time like she was trying to call for help, but J-Mac's hand was still firmly holding it shut.

Kevin came back around and attached the strip of tape on the side of her face, bracing the other side with his hand so that she didn't shake her head as he applied the tape. Once the tape covered her mouth, J-Mac removed his hand and brought it to her right hip, just slightly south of the border line and venturing back to her rear. His hand gripped her curve as if he was massaging a piece of meat, sighing a pleasurable 'oh yeah' as he did.

"Stand outside and lock the door," he commanded Kevin, who narrowed his eyes at the sudden request, "make sure no one comes down here."

"What about Lonnie?"

"He can't come down either!"

Kevin thought about his orders for a moment before walking to the door without any other questions. J-Mac continued his groping until the door closed and the lock clicked shut. When they were alone, he walked back to the small night table beside his bed and pulled a few objects from the top drawer. The first of which was a container of hair gel to fix his wild, messy hair from tussling with Spider-Man and Felicia. He took a good amount into his hands and formed his hair into a fiery flame-like formation. The next thing he pulled out was a small bag with a large heart on both sides. Michelle had no doubt what the bag contained and dreaded that he was intending to put himself inside her at some point tonight.

The last thing he brought out was a small knife, causing Michelle's eyes to widen at the sight of it. He turned back to her, his eyes looking up and down as much of her body that her position allowed. He twiddled with the knife in his hand, making Michelle feel more nervous than she had already been. He came around her and stood behind the chair, treading his fingers over her shoulders. He tenderly massaged her shoulders to try to ease herself into submission, but Michelle dismissed any desire to submit to his cruel intentions.

He then slid his right arm down her body, rubbing past her chest and stomach, and to the bottom of her shirt. He played around with the end of the shirt a little before slipping his hand inside, reaching to cup one of her breast. Michelle shook and jerked about, trying to make him stop, but he kept persisting ad eventually had his hand squeezing her soft breast. Michelle groaned ferociously at his touch over her bra and shook some more, until his upper arm pinned her against the back of the chair. He lowered himself down to her neck and his lips found the crook of her shoulder. He started planting little kisses where ever he could with all her jumping and whispered little comments in her ear. "You must be asking why...? Simple, because you did something that no other bitch has done to me before, you rejected me." He placed his lips firmly on her neck and sucked a little bit, making Michelle cry-out, but moan at the small way it felt. "Now, I'm gonna take what you denied me."

Suddenly, Michelle saw the knife come out from behind her, J-Mac positioning it at the center of her shirt. Using the hand underneath the shirt, J-Mac lifted the fabric away from her skin and started cutting through. As the cut grew, Michelle could feel the cold basement air pierce inside, meeting the bare skin of her stomach. The cutting continued down to the bottom of her shirt, and he finished by cutting in up to her neck. Michelle looked down and could see the bridge of her gray and black bra, down to where her jean-line met her waist, cowering behind the curtains of her now ripped shirt. A few tears started to form, as J-Mac walked out in front of her and tore the curtains away, revealing her bare body with only her bra hiding the rest. The cold air now hit her like the bitter wind of a January snow storm, making her feel more naked than she really was.

"Now," J-Mac said completely dementated of human sympathy, "what do I want to do first?" he started unzipping the fly on his pants and unbuttoning them as well. "My tongue on your clit....," he said, Michelle violently shaking her head, tears falling down her cheeks, "... or just get straight to the good stuff?" She continued shaking her head, mumbling unsatisfied comments and statements under the duct tape over her lips. Soon his pants fell to his feet and approached her. And his shadow grew over her as Michelle awaited the end of this terrible thing that men find so rewarding.

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A/N- Not gonna lie guys, this was not easy to write. I was practically shooting myself for thinking and writing the despicable things that happened. I'm just glad I'm through it, and that I hopefully won't have to do it again.

For yours and my personal record: I really like and respect Zendaya/Michelle, and I would never want either one of them to be treated this way. Hell nobody deserves to be treated this way, it's just the "Evil that Men Do," and it needs to be stopped.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, if there was anything worth enjoying. Leave a vote and express your thoughts in the comments. I promise, these evils will be put to an end in the coming chapter(s).

New chapter in two weeks. Until next time, BYE!!!