Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter was working on a prototype for a new kind of wrist brace when a wave of dizziness hit him. Not again. He had to grip hold of the back of a chair to keep his feet. His stomach twisted angrily.

It would pass in a minute, he told himself. It always did.

Shit, it was starting early, and he was all the way across town from his moldy little apartment. He was usually so much better about staying on top of it, making sure he was never caught out.

The cramps he was used to, but why was he so lightheaded now? That was new. Was it just because he'd skipped breakfast? He knew he should take better care of himself, but these last few months he couldn’t quite work up the energy. He just never felt hungry, and even when he bothered to make himself a meal, he didn’t want to eat it. Something about it didn’t feel right, he felt – he felt resentful, somehow, that he was supposed to go to all the trouble of making the food and spooning it into his own mouth. Which was ridiculous, of course.

And now he ached, his asshole clenching around nothing, his abdomen cramping wildly. Why was it coming on so strong? He was at work!

Since he was a teenager Peter had felt like he was supposed to be doing something great – he wanted to help people. But he was just an ordinary college student. A little on the shrimpy side, even before this latest fugue hit him. Getting this internship at Starkner Industries was the first exciting thing to ever happen to him.

Mr. Stark was a great man. Formerly a weapons manufacturer, he had changed course after a freak heart attack and had built a medical company with his best friend, Dr. Banner. Now Starkner was a leader in innovative medical technology.

Meanwhile, right in the middle of the last week of his internship, Peter's body was betraying him. He wasn’t going to be able to keep his balance. His knees refused to lock.

"Hey, are you alright?" Of course his lab partner would notice eventually. "Should I maybe call someone for you?"

"No!" said Peter. "No, please don’t do that. It's nothing. I’m fine."

"Peter, you look awful. I think you might need an ambulance."

"No – no doctor, no hospital, please. I’m alright, I promise, please don’t call anyone. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are waiting for this prototype ..."

The room started to spin, slowly at first and then faster, like he was swinging wildly.

"Peter!"

Everything blurred into grey.

"Mr. Stark," he whispered. "Dr. Banner." He didn't want to let down the team.

-*-*-

Tony and Bruce were in a meeting when the intercom buzzed. "Excuse me, sirs? We have ... something of a situation here."

Tony raised an eyebrow and reached over to push the button. "What kind of situation?" 

"One of the interns has collapsed in the lab. But he was adamant that he didn't want to be taken to the hospital; in fact he seems to be asking for the two of you."

"What?" Bruce shot an incredulous glare at the receiver. "Don't be ridiculous. If someone is hurt, call 911."

"Which intern?" asked Tony.

"What does it matter which intern?"

"Erm, his name is apparently Peter," said the voice, very apologetically. "Peter ... Parker. Sirs, he was very clear that he refuses to let anyone call an ambulance or take him to the hospital."

“Bring him up here.”

"What?"

“He’s my best intern,” said Tony. "You're a medical doctor, at least you can look him over."

"Tony, I don't think ..."

There was a chime at the door. Two of the building security guys appeared looking stressed, practically holding up a frail boy who couldn't be older than 20.

"Tony, it's probably drugs," said Bruce. "We can't treat that here."

"Not Peter," said Tony, shaking his head. "Here boys, bring him this way, to my personal lab. There's an exam table in there, and a bunch of equipment. Come on, Bruce, shake a leg."

Tony and Bruce had been drawn together initially by a sprit of scientific inquiry and then later became business partners – perhaps surprisingly, given that Tony was an Alpha and Bruce was a beta. In general Alphas tended more towards competition than collaboration, and betas preferred not to work with them. But they were both outsiders, and neither considered themselves a typical of their designation. They worked well together: Tony’s excitability was balanced out by Bruce’s kindly and placid temperament (although he did have a surprisingly wicked temper when the wrong mood caught him).

Tony entered the security code to get into his own private R&D lab, then flipped on the lights.

"He seems really out of it," said one of the security guys. Peter didn't respond, his eyes vacant.

"Get him up on the table," Bruce advised, rummaging through one of the drawers for supplies. Fortunately the room had everything under the sun stored in the cabinets, from Tony's wide ranging medical experiments. "He's not going to be able to keep his feet. I'll look him over briefly, but we're calling an ambulance if I'm not completely satisfied."

"No hospital," murmured Peter, weakly. The back of his pants was soaked with what Tony thought at first was pee. Poor kid.

"Stop," said Bruce, noticing the same thing as the guards moved to help Peter up onto the lab table. He took the boy by the shoulders and turned him around. His eyebrows pulled together. "Thank you both for your assistance, we'll take it from here," he dismissed the guards. They seemed relieved to get the order, hurrying out.

"What are you thinking?" asked Tony.

"I'm thinking this is omega slick."

Tony's eyes widened in shock. Cheerful, hardworking little Peter Parker of that perky ass? He'd always seemed too earnest and sweet for an Alpha, but Tony hadn't doubted his designation a beta.

Well, he was awfully eager to please …

"Tony, take an inhibiter," directed Bruce. Tony fumbled for the bottle in his pocket - most Alphas carried them at all times. They enabled an Alpha to avoid being triggered into Rut by the presence of an omega in heat. He took two.

"Help me get him over here," said Bruce, manhandling the boy - who seemed almost unconscious at this point - to lean up against the exam table. "And get him stripped down, he’s too hot."

Bruce unbuttoned and slid the damp khakis off of him. His thin white briefs were wet through.

"This seems … wrong," said Tony.

"I’m a doctor, and he’s an omega experiencing a potential medical emergency on your property while refusing to be taken to the hospital. We have the authority." Bruce took up a scalpel from one of the old surgery kits and easily cut away the boy’s thin red tshirt.  

Left in just his tighty whiteys Peter looked far younger than he really was.

Bruce had a scanning device, his own invention, which he quickly applied. Numbers populated a computer screen mounted on the wall. "Blood pressure’s high, definitely signs of stress. How old is he?"

"He's one of the freshmen, so probably just turned eighteen."

"Hmm. Small for his age. Well, he’s definitely underfed and dehydrated. We can get him on a drip - can you get me a kit? I don’t like this fever though. Let’s just take a look and see what we're dealing with down here." He peeled away the soft underwear. Tony carefully looked away, bringing back the requested equipment from the closet. "Did you know the boy was an omega?"

"No, his papers say he's a beta, or else we would have to set up special work requirements to accommodate his, erm, schedule." Which Tony would have been perfectly willing to do! It was a new era, after all.

"I suppose it’s possible he didn’t know himself," said Bruce doubtfully. "Some boys have very late presentation." He was gently probing the boy’s ass with his gloved fingers.

Looking down at the pale, feverish body, even without pausing at the pink, hairless genitals, Tony could easily tell that the boy was an omega from the copious slick that was now dripping down onto the table.

"My goodness he’s tight." The boy grimaced as Bruce examined his tender opening. Even unconscious he shifted and whimpered. "Hasn’t anybody ever touched you here before, little one?"

"It's hard to believe he wouldn't know his designation," said Tony. "And he has no scent at all - you thinking suppressants?"

"Mm-hmm." Bruce had got the naked boy lying flat on his back. "I need to get an exact temperature. Hold him down now, he’s not going to like this."

Reluctantly Tony took the boy’s shoulders and averted his gaze while Bruce cleaned his thermometer and spread Peter’s pale thighs. True to his prediction, Peter’s face scrunched and he whined when the probe slid into his rear. "Take it easy, kid," said Tony, turning the boy’s head away and holding him in place. "Bruce is just trying to get a reading on how hot you are inside. Sorry about the indignity."

"Keep still, Peter," Bruce rumbled. "Good, good boy. You’re fine. Stay nice and relaxed for me. Well, that’s quite a fever you’re running. We’ll get you cooled off, little omega, and then you’ll be feeling better."

"Is it just the heat causing these symptoms?"

"Hard to say for sure yet. Little pinch,” Bruce soothed, sliding the needle into a pale vein.

Peter whined and reached for the needle in his arm. Bruce caught his hand and pulled it back. "No no, leave that where it is," he said. "Tony, give me a hand here?"

Tony wasn’t a doctor himself, although most of his friends were these days. He reached for the kid’s grasping hand and held it. "Take it easy, kiddo," he said.

Bruce was rummaging through the drawers. "I don't think this is his first heat, to have come on so strong. At least we know why he didn’t want to go to the hospital," he said, shaking his head. "If he’s unregistered, he’s probably been trying to deny his nature his whole life. Poor thing."

"Why would he do that?" asked Tony. "It’s a new millennium. Omegas have equal rights now."

"Some people don’t want to accept their designation. Or he could be from an old fashioned family. He must have his reasons. Whatever they are, he’s dehydrated, and his blood sugar is low." Bruce poured a packet of powder into an omega bottle, added water, and shook it up. "See if he’ll take this."

"I thought we have the drip …"

"The drip is for hydration, I’m worried about his blood sugar. And having some food in his stomach will help him with the other meds he may need. This is the easiest way. Go ahead."

Tony tipped the boy’s jaw up with his thumb. A finger in the sweet little divot of his chin had that pink mouth open, and the nib of the bottle slid right in. Tony gave a squeeze and the white liquid dribbled out. Still barely conscious the boy moaned and might have turned his head away, but Tony’s fingers around his jaw stopped him. "Quit fussing," he chided. "Take a little of this for me now."

Another squeeze and the boy began to instinctively suckle. He grunted and squirmed but his throat was working.

"Omegas tend to have a stronger natural sucking instinct," observed Bruce impassively. "You should at least be carrying gum or hard candy with you, kiddo."

With the fluids and sugar the boy had already started to revive, long eyelashes fluttering before big hazy eyes fixed themselves on Tony. "Mmph," he garbled around the nipple of the bottle. Poor kid, it must be embarrassing to wake up finding yourself being fed like a baby by your own boss.

"He’s awake." Tony would have pulled the bottle back, but Bruce put out a hand to stop him.

"See if you can get him to finish that off," he advised, keeping the nipple in place. He used his other hand to squeeze the bottle, dribbling the last of the milk into Peter’s protesting mouth. He dropped his other hand to Peter’s forehead, holding him in place. "Swallow it all down," he directed calmly, not letting the omega pull away. "That’s it. Good boy. Tony, do you have a heat kit in here?"

"No, but there's one in the break room, s'standard issue now. Do you want me to send someone to fetch it?"

"I think it'd be better if you went to get it. Obviously Peter didn't want anyone to know about this, we should try to respect that. If we can treat this on site, I think that would be best, and we can deal with his classification issues afterwards. Give me the bottle, I'll stay with him."

Of course, they couldn't leave Tony, an Alpha, alone with an omega in heat - even with the inhibiters and whatever suppressants Peter was using.

He strolled casually down to the empty break room and found the purple box under the sink right next to the med kit. He also grabbed the newspaper on the table to conceal what he was carrying, then booked it back to the lab.

Bruce was examining his readings when Tony returned. The boy was still splayed limply on the table. "Well, the good news is I have a pretty clear understanding of the situation now - his symptoms are all coming from hormone imbalance, and we can probably treat that here," he said, taking the kit from Tony.

"That is good news!"

"The bad news is, he may be in for a bit of a rough time of it. But since he is in heat, we've got sufficient justification to proceed. Now, hand me those restraints, will you?"

"No," gasped Peter. "Please, Docter Banner, don’t …"

Bruce gently covered Peter’s mouth with his hand. “That’s enough now, omega,” he warned. "We're going to help you."

“Bruce,” said Tony. “Don’t you think we can cut the kid a break?”

“No, I absolutely do not. That kind of thinking is what got him here in the first place. He has biological needs, Tony, and they’re not being met. That’s what’s causing the adverse reaction you’re seeing. He's been suppressing his heats for too long. His body is rebelling at this point.”

“Poor kid,” said Tony.

The omega heat kit included a set of straps to secure an unruly omega, who tended to thrash if they weren't being properly seen to. But Bruce reached first for the rubber pacifier, quickly rinsing it off in the sink first.

"Can you be a good boy and open up for me, Peter?" he asked patiently. "I have something here that might make you feel better."

Peter tried feebly to twist away. "I don't need that," he slurred.

“Hush, now,” said Bruce, taking a firm hold of his jaw. "Here we go, honey. Open up." He pried the boy's mouth open as Peter moaned, pinning the pink tongue, quickly running his thumb over the little white teeth to check his gums. "No problems here," he soothed. Then he slipped the rubber nub of the pacifier into his mouth.

Peter groaned, shaking his head.

"Hush, little one, you can breathe. It’s to help you calm down. Take some nice deep breaths through your nose for me." Bruce slipped a hand over Peter’s eyes, grounding him.

"This is going to help him?" asked Tony.

"Oh yes. You saw how he went for that bottle. The suckling instinct is part of the natural self-soothing process. Although it seems that Peter here is unusually feisty. If you spit that out, young man, I have a strap here to hold it in place."

Peter subsided with a soft moan.

Bruce studied his read-outs. "Good response in blood pressure there," he said. "Blood sugar and hydration are better. Fever's still high though. And I don't like that pulse rate."

Tony frowned.

“Now Peter, I’m going to leave your pacifier in until you settle down a bit,” warned Bruce, reaching for his wrists. He fastened them down at his sides, secured tightly to the examination bed, as Peter moaned, scrabbling with his cuffed hands.

"It's all right," said Bruce, buckling a series of straps across his chest, including one tight band that fit right underneath his soft chest. "That’s better, isn’t it. You’re going to be a good boy for Tony and me now aren’t you." Bruce casually examined his peaked nipples, tapped at his collarbone, felt the swollen glands in his neck. The boy squeaked. "Now then, let’s have a proper look at your bottom without all this fuss, hmm?"

He fetched one of the soft wedges that Tony used to prop up equipment, and slipped it under the boy's narrow hips. Then he fastened the skinny ankles to the table, his legs spread open, the modesty drape over his groin doing little to conceal him. Tony reached to adjust it as Peter whined and closed his eyes. At this angle Tony could barely see his little omega opening, but now he could start smell the flowery sweetness of his heat.

Tony moved to the top of the table. Inhibiters could only do so much ...

"Poor little guy," he said, rubbing the top of Peter’s head.

Bruce was back between the boy's splayed knees. "Now, I noted initially that his aperture was very tight. That’s at least part of your problem right there, little omega - you should be stretching your little hole several days a week."

Tony groaned at the mental picture of his favorite intern earnestly fingering himself open every night, or stuffing toys up his hole – for medical reasons. Those same long, capable fingers that tortured Tony when they tinkered with his new lab equipment ...

Peter squealed behind his pacifier, squirming. Tony glanced down; Bruce was manually inspecting the internal organs, his eyes on the ceiling, furrowed in concentration. "Feels alright so far. The womb is intact. Cervix very dry. Hasn’t anyone told you how to take care of your body? You have special needs, you know. It's not necessarily a limitation, but you have to respect your own instincts and hormones, or else you end up like this."

Peter moaned softly, seemingly giving up now that they had taken such complete control of the situation. Granted, it wasn’t like the poor lamb could do much else.

"Let’s see if we can get you loosened up a little down here," Bruce hummed. "That should help you start to feel better. You’re certainly making enough slick, that’s for sure. Here, Tony, this may be instructive for you to observe. Remember we were discussing the need for better products in this market? You'll see what I mean."

He set up mirror so that Tony could see what he was doing. Tony didn't know whether to thank him or not.

"What can you do for him?" asked Tony, trying not to the stare at the delicate opening exposed in the mirror, swollen and red.

"Well, the first thing he needs is appropriate penetration. That should help relieve his symptoms, at least temporarily. Fortunately I believe there'll be something in the kit … ah yes, here it is." He held up a bright purple rubber insertable, smaller than even a beta penis, but with a thick base that was slightly curved so that Peter’s clutching body could grasp it.

"I thought that was an old wives’ tale," said Tony. "You mean it really works?"

"Oh yes. Briefly, at least. It tricks the body into thinking he’s getting what he needs, which is to be mated. Now, can you try to relax for me, omega? Let your legs fall open naturally, don’t fight the restraints. You’ll feel a little pressure in your bottom. Just take a deep breath, now let it out. That’s it. Shh shh shh, just relax."

But Peter groaned miserably as the blunt nose of the rubber cock slipped in to his sopping wet hole. “It’s not hurting you,” Bruce soothed. “This is a very small piece. You can take it easily. It’s going to feel so good in a minute. Try to bear down, that might make it a little easier, okay?”

Tony couldn’t see much sign of improvement. Peter was still struggling futilely, pinned in place by the restraints, his asshole clamping down as Bruce slowly worked to advance, the plastic stretching him gently wider and wider as it sank in. "Suckle for me," Bruce advised calmly.

Tony reached to wiggle the end of the pacifier, hoping to stimulate his instincts. The boy’s tear-filled eyes widened in panic, his soft mouth sucking and sucking at the pacifier gag. "There," Bruce hummed, "that’s it, that’s right, sweetheart, you're just swallowing that right down, I bet you feel all nice and full now." He pressed in the last inch, patting the boy’s ass when it was filled.

Peter lay limp, gasping, legs still spread wide, revealing his snug little asshole twitching and clutching around fluted base of the plug.

"That’s it, little one. See how much better that feels? Let yourself clench now, and relax, don’t try to fight it. Feels good, doesn’t it? You need to be stuffed nice and full, don’t you. Is that what you needed?"

Bruce ran a quick scan, frowning at his instruments. "Well, there’s a mild improvement, but honestly I’d hoped for a bit more. His body really is desperate to be bred."

Peter moaned, turning his face away.

Tony rubbed his arm. "But there are other treatments we can try?"

Bruce was still examining his read outs. "Unfortunately, it gets increasingly difficult once he’s this far gone. The treatments on the market today are all preventative. There’s fewer options once the heat itself kicks in. Usually, an omega can manage it with insertables and fantasy, sometimes they may need a little extra help. But if a little light restraint and the plug was going to be enough, we would have seen improvement by now. I’ve never seen an omega this bad before even after an insertable was applied. At this rate he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up in a facility."

"A … facility?"

"Oh yes, for emergencies they have specially trained sex technicians who can provide medical intercourse. Strictly professional, you understand."

"Really? That’s what they do? They just get someone to fuck them?"

"Sometimes the simplest cures are the most effective," said Bruce, smiling.

"So … would anybody fucking him work, then? You, for example?" Tony tried not to picture Bruce folding the boy up, lining his dick to that sore and dripping hole, and sliding in nice and slow – Peter, helpless, not even able to protest, his legs held open, pinned down and silenced. Maybe with Tony rubbing his chest while his poor little body stretched and strained to swallow down Bruce’s no doubt massive beta cock ...

One on hand the image raised his own Alpha hackles ... on the other hand, his cock twitched in his pants.

"Well ... ethically that’s a bit of a grey area. Even if he agreed – which honestly, I’m not sure he would – he can’t truly consent in this state. That said, letting him suffer like this might be crueler. Untreated heats can drag on for weeks, and the risk of dehydration is real even with medical support. If we don’t see improvement in the next few minutes, we’re going to have to decide between calling him an ambulance and offering a few – services of our own. But fortunately, with your designation, we could try a few things short of fucking first."

"Like what?"

"Well, we could try giving him some of your ejaculate, for example. If he swallowed some, or even absorbed some through his skin, that might help him bring down the heat. Nobody would actually have to fuck him. But honestly, he might prefer a facility. They’re trained for these situations."

"Mm-mm," said Peter, shaking his head mightily. His pink lips were cracked around the rim of his pacifier, his tongue dry as he pressed at it, trying to work it out of his mouth.

"Let's leave that in, it’s good for you to stay quiet," warned Bruce, stroking his hair back with his big, callused hand. Peter closed his eyes, leaning into the touch seemingly in spite of himself. "Now, what are you trying to tell us? You don’t want to go to a facility?"

Peter shook his head vigorously, gabbling behind the insert.

"Are you sure? You understand, it’s not like in the old days. They’re very respectful of patient choice, within limits of course, and they’re perfectly discreet."

"Nghh," said Peter, shaking his head again. He was tiring himself out, and Tony put a hand on his forehead to still him.

"Shush, little omega," he said firmly. "We’ll decide what’s best for you. If we say you’re going to the hospital to be fucked by these – sex doctors, then that’s what you’ll do. Do you understand me?"

"Mmnph," said Peter, dropping his eyes. "Ngh – nungh."

"Yes, I know, you don’t like that idea. But you’ve gotten yourself into enough trouble, being headstrong and foolish. You’ll spread like a good boy and let those professionals help you if I tell you to."

Tony felt his dick chubbing up again at the thought ... poor Peter, dressed in one of those little backless gowns, hooked up to machines, maybe even sedated – his ripe little ass uncovered in an operating room, knowing that he was there to be fucked …

But when Tony imagined some stranger in a gown and mask, perhaps another Alpha even, coming in to knot him, his own inner Alpha protested vigorously. No, this little omega couldn’t be trusted to strangers. He was Tony’s – Tony’s and Bruce’s.

"So we can just give him a little of my cum and that’s it? Improvement?"

"It's possible. But I realize it may be  a little too intimate. Would you prefer we try it, Peter? If we try and it doesn’t work, the Facility can still be a backup option. But it’s up to you."

"Mmn," said Peter, nodding vigorously. He started to spit out his pacifier, But Tony dropped his hand over his jaw, holding it in place.

"I think Dr. Banner made it clear that this stays in," he said, tapping the pacifier. "Your blood pressure dropped almost as soon as we got it in there, so it’s definitely helping you." Plus, the kid looked too freaking cute with it, his big teary eyes in his little pointed face. No, that was staying in for now. "Now, you don't want us to call a Facility?"

Reluctantly Peter shook his head no underneath Tony’s hand.

“So you’d rather we try Dr. Banner’s plan? Because doing nothing is not an option.”

Peter nodded slowly.

"Excellent. We can start slow and see how it goes, okay? Let’s just try some topical application first. Perhaps that will be enough to send you home. Tony, do you want to go ahead? Pre-come should be enough, as it contains the same hormones as ejaculate. Go ahead and try just applying some to the pulse points."

Neither of them pretended that Tony wasn’t noticeably hard already. Tony reached into his pants – he was a leaker, so his cock was already dripping wet.

Peter moaned in despair as he brought up a handful of Alpha pre-come. Even though he had agreed to it, Tony could imagine it was still a humiliating experience for a kid who just wanted to do biomedical research like his classmates.

"Hush now, omega," murmured Bruce. "This is what you need. There’s no need to be embarrassed."

"Just – drop it on?"

Bruce nodded.

Tony touched the boy's wrists, leaving a shining dot, and then on a whim, painted a line over Peter’s forehead. He felt like the monkey guy in The Lion King.

"Let's give that some time to absorb," said Bruce, studying the numbers on his screen. "Hmm, maybe try - in his mouth?"

Trying to ignore his slowly-swelling knot, Tony retrieved another scoop and pressed his thumb in alongside the rubber bulb of the pacifier. Peter groaned, but Tony could feel him sucking eagerly, grunting.

"Okay, better. I'm thinking that's the direction we need to go. I realize it might be a bit awkward, but do you think - could you let him have a taste directly from the source? If that's alright with  you, Peter?"

Peter nodded frantically.

"Let me adjust the table here. Now, just let his head drop back, this will be an easier angle for him."

Finally Bruce pulled he pacifier was free of his wet, soft mouth. Peter automatically smacked his lips, stretching his poor jaw. “Mr. Stark...” he whispered.

“None of that now,” warned Bruce, taking him by the chin and pressing his head back, mouth open, so sweetly receptive. "Come on, Tony, quickly now."

Tony shoved his pants lower and stepped up. It was a weird upside down thing, his wet mouth hanging open. Tony took hold of his own knot to control the depth. He hissed at the feeling of Peter’s little kitten tongue licking at the head.

"Try proper penetration, perhaps."

Tony's other hand slid through Peter's soft hair, guiding the back of his head, urging him to take him deeper. Peter moaned and choked before adjusting, his jaw stretched wide, breathing heavily through his nose, eyes clenched shut.

"It’s not working," said Bruce, squinting at the monitor.

"It’s working for me," Tony groaned, shifting his grip on Peter’s hair to tug him just that little bit deeper. Peter’s muffled moan was gratifying, his throat working harder.

“Oh! There’s progress.”

"He’s so greedy for it," said Tony, awed. "I’m trying to hold him off but he’s going to choke himself." Indeed, Peter seemed like he was determined to stuff the whole thing down his throat, moaning. His eyes were closed, pretty pink lips wet and stretched wide around the cock in his mouth.

"Better than that pacifier, hmm?" asked Bruce, amused.

Peter made a soft, stifled sound, muffled by Alpha cock, his tongue trapped flat by the shaft of it sliding vigorously in and out of his little pink mouth. Tony stroked his hair to settle him, adjusting the angle of his head so that he could get that last little bit deeper.

Bruce hmmed. "This is quite a submissive position, but it may simply not be enough to satisfy his instincts. Maybe if he was on his knees …"

"Oh God," said Tony. "Stop talking, Bruce." Picturing this pretty boy on his knees, looking up at him with those wide, worshipful eyes, long eyelashes fluttering eager and shy … maybe with his skinny little wrists bound behind him so that he couldn’t control the depth or the speed, he had no choice but just to take it however Tony wanted him to …

“There are some better numbers,” said Bruce. "Still. I think we could do a little better. Don't thrust, Tony, just let him suckle. But make sure you're deep enough. Come on, an old Alpha like you ought to have the control."

"I've got plenty of control," Tony gritted out.

"Now, little omega, when is the last time you had a proper orgasm?" asked Bruce clinically, lifting Peter’s knees and arranging them over the foam prop under his ass. "I know, I know, you can’t talk, but – in the last 48 hours? The last week?"

Peter’s face was flushed brilliant red. “Mnngh,” he gabbled, closing his eyes. He shook his head the small amount he was able.

"… The last month? The last year?? Wait, you’ve never …?"

"Bruce." Tony took pity on Peter, stroking his silky mop of curls soothingly. "Peter, baby, that’s not healthy for an omega of breeding age."

"You should aim for 2-3 quality rectal orgasms in a week," said Bruce. "It balances out the hormones, and the stimulation is important for your hole so that it can lubricate properly. Plus, it reduces the severity of your heats so you don’t end up like – " he gestured pointedly – "this."

Peter groaned out what was probably started as a protest, but it was hard to maintain the front when Tony’s fingers, now scritching his scalp, were making him drowsy and content.

"He must have immense willpower," mused Bruce, "To reach this age without proper stimulation. Do you really dislike your biology that much, little omega?" he paused. "Or perhaps you were just … waiting for the right partners?"

He pinched at his nipples, thrust up by the position he was in despite the restraints. Peter groaned and arched - like all omegas, his nipples were sensitive.

"Bruce, we're gonna fuck him, right? Please tell me that's what all this foreplay is leading up to. I really wanna fuck him. Knot up that tight little hole, fill him up with my cum, make him take each and every drop..." In spite of himself, Tony was thrusting again, loving the pained little grunts Peter was making each time he hit the back of his throat. "We are, right? Please? Yes? Now?"

Bruce, his cheeks flushed, cleared his throat. "Well now," he said. "I suppose that's up to Peter, isn't it?"

-*-*-

Peter didn’t want to listen to the words Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark were saying. They went over his head now, lost in the buzzing haze of the strongest heat he had ever experienced. It had never been like this - never. He felt more than drunk, more like out of body, like he was watching himself, horrified, from a distance.

"Stop, stop," said Dr. Banner, pulling Peter away by the shoulders. Peter whined, straining for it when that cock popped free of his mouth.

Dr. Banner easily wrapped a palm around his chin and tugged him back, adjusting the table so that his head was supported again. He adjusted the straps holding Peer down, ensuring that he couldn't move. He's legs were still spread wide, exposing all of him to the room. "Settle, Peter. We need to talk." 

But Peter couldn't talk.

He didn’t ... he didn't want to think. If he thought about it, he’d be so humiliated to be acting like this – moaning and trying to swallow down Mr. Stark’s perfect cock as if it wasn’t attached to him. Peter had never even seen a real Alpha penis before … just pictures from online … and now he actually had one in his mouth, and it felt so good, and it tasted so good, like the flavor could fix everything that was wrong with his stupid itching, aching body – he just wanted more of it.

"Peter. Petey. C'mon, kid. Look at me. Hey." Mr. Stark tipped his face up and met his eyes. "You in there?"

Peter whined. The worst part was that it wasn’t just any two random people seeing him act like this, stupid and heat drunk like the worst Omegas Gone Wild videos from late night TV. No, it was the two people he admired most in the entire world. Kindly, handsome Dr. Banner, of the big strong hands that were so competent with everything he did, and Mr. Stark himself – who Peter had always idolized and adored …

He just – he liked their hands on him, liked them to stroke his hair (God, he loved that). He liked their eyes on all of him … except down there, the place he didn’t like to think about.

If only he hadn’t been moaning their names in the fuzzy period after he first collapsed!

And now here he was like some kind of … some kind of floozy, and he was naked, his skinny, hairless body just exposed to whoever wanted to see it. Peter closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at Mr. Stark’s warm gaze, or Dr. Banner’s concerned face.

At least Dr. Banner had worked in a medical practice for years before he’d started Starkner industries, so he had probably seen lots of dripping, drooling omegas … but Mr. Stark??? Mr. Stark had just casually studied Peter’s stupid, sloppy omega hole in that mirror, watching as Dr. Banner’s fingers felt so casually up inside him, indifferent, probing at all his weak places.

No, Peter didn't want to talk. Didn't want to think or he'd probably go insane. He just wanted to stay in this daze with that wonderful cock back in his mouth, stopping him from saying anything stupid or pathetic, stopping him from doing anything, actually, except making those shameful muffled moans around the obstruction in his throat.

But Mr. Stark had to pet his hair and soothe his forehead (he loved that so much!) until he accepted that he wasn’t going to have it now, and then, more humiliating and satisfying, slid a finger in his mouth so that Peter could suckle so gratefully at it, as he blinked up at Dr. Banner, trying to understand what he was saying.

"Peter, in my medical opinion, at this point to avoid a facility your best option is to let Tony penetrate you and knot in your rectal cavity until you both orgasm. That should relieve the buildup of hormones that are causing your current symptoms."

"Bruce, for God's sake," said Mr. Stark, moving his hand. Peter strained for it fruitlessly. "The kid is completely out of it, and you want talk like you’re writing for JAMA? He's saying we need to fuck you, kid. My cock, your ass, and maybe his cock too if we can. Does that sound okay to you?"

Peter nodded vigorously. Anything they wanted to do with him sounded good. Especially if he didn’t have to think about it.

"Tony, that’s not fair, he’d agree to anything you said right now. Look at me, Peter. Look at my eyes. Do you understand your options here?"

Peter gazed into Dr. Banner's kindly brown eyes.

"Stay with me, Peter," he said, stroking his face. "Are you willing to let Tony ... fuck you, if it will make you feel better?"

Peter nodded. He just didn’t want to talk. His throat was sore anyway, from Mr. Stark’s cock. He liked the soreness and he didn’t want to ruin it.

"Are you sure?"

"Please," he croaked. He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this. This was already bad enough. He opened his mouth around Dr. Banner’s thumb, sucking gently. It tasted like salt.

Mr. Stark was walking slowly around the table. "Bruce, are you sure the kid is healthy enough for, ya know, sex?" he gripped one of Peter’s skinny ankles and eyed it dubiously. "It’s gonna be like fucking Bambi or something over here."

"Omegas can be deceptively slight, but surprisingly resilient," said Dr. Banner drily, as Peter flushed.

"I just – don’t want to hurt him."

"It may hurt him a little, but he’ll probably enjoy that. Peter’s opening is made for rough handling, and I’m confident his body cavity can accommodate a knot, if that’s what you’re concerned about."

Peter squirmed, not enjoying being discussed like a sale item at a luxury goods store. Mr. Stark settled him with a hand on his white thigh. Oh God, he was just - he was just looking at Peter's plugged-up asshole, which was no doubt already leaking even around the thick base of the insertable. Peter had never leaked so much in his life as he had today.

He didn’t want them talk or even think about his shameful place. They could fuck him if they wanted to fuck him but that didn’t mean they needed to talk about his omega hole.

"We’ll need something he can be bent over. And we’ll have to strap him down. It’s important that he not move at the wrong time, and he’s less likely to panic."

"A bench," said Mr. Stark. "I want him on a proper breeding bench. We can put one together here, with what we’ve got. Okay? He agreed. That means we get to do it right? He doesn’t want a stranger. He wants us."

Peter nodded emphatically. That was true. He did want them.

"Rest for a moment," murmured Dr. Banner, covering his eyes with a broad hand until Peter went limp. "You’re still warm and exhausted, you need to reserve your strength."

Peter obediently rested, but he still watched them playing around with the parts of an old lab bench and a few chairs. Peter could see where his hips would go, raised up and supported in the presenting position, with his ass up in the air... like – like livestock, exposed for inspection.

Peter felt himself begin to sweat. He was about to lose his virginity to Tony Freaking Stark.

"Here’s your birth control, baby," said Dr. Banner, injecting something into Peter’s IV. It was rare for a male omega to catch, but not entirely impossible. And for the treatment to be effective they couldn’t use a condom, of course. When it was in, Dr. Banner capped and removed the IV.

Mr. Stark was bolting on a series of canvas straps – straps for Peter’s thighs, his wrists, his shoulders above the soft padded place where his head would go.

"Now, here we go, honey," said Dr. Banner, slipping a red rubber ball into his mouth. Peter groaned pitifully. "Hush, now. Bite down for me. This is just to keep you from biting your lips or tongue during the, uh, act itself." He let Peter work it between his teeth before he fastened it snug behind his head.

Peter ducked his head, cheeks red above the tight straps. He was embarrassed to be seen gagged like this. Like the photo on the cover of omega in porn, like the kind of omega who had to be tied down and fucked.

"His fever's picking up again," said Dr. Banner. "Let's get this done." He unbuckled the restraints and scooped him up easily.

As soon as he was free Peter felt himself beginning to panic. He couldn't do this. He couldn't take a knot in his ass, which could barely handle that little plastic plug! He couldn't let anyone touch him there, never mind - never mind shove a whole alpha penis up inside him!

But between Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark there was no chance of resistance. He was carried to the bench, guided to straddle the central beam, his wrists pinned behind his back, moaning into his gag - he was pressed forward, bent over the bench, a strap around his waist keeping him in place. On his belly, ass in the air.

His wrists were stretched forward and locked down. The position of the footrests meant that his thighs were spread wide. Broad, snug straps around his pressure points. Peter tried to twist and found that he couldn’t.

"Easy now," said Dr. Banner. "You're alright." A hand directed his face forward and then ruffled his hair.

Peter felt faint. He was blubbering around the ball, and he knew he was drooling down his chin, trying to beg for something - maybe just the chance to catch his breath.

"Try to relax," Dr. Banner advised. Fingers spread him open and examined his hole. "Relax your bottom, honey. Count to three and then give me a nice exhale through your nose. Ready?"

The plug was tugged loose from his grasping hole as Peter sobbed.

"Should we give him a second?"

"No, not when he's getting himself worked up like this. It's just the hormones. The best thing is to get it over with. He'll be feeling a lot better in just a minute."

A finger probed as he started to hyperventilate, moaning brokenly. "He's very wet. Everything looks good. Go ahead, Tony." Strong hands held his buttocks open and Peter realized it was to offer his tight little hole to Mr. Stark.

"Ngh, ngh," he groaned, wishing they hadn't gagged him, even though he knew he needed it - his teeth sank into the ball as something wet and rubbery nudged at his hole. It felt like it was blazing hot. Peter whimpered, struggling as best he could, which was not at all.

"C'mon, loosen up, baby," said Mr. Stark. "You’re all clenched up back here."

But Peter couldn't. He didn't know how to. And he was going to overheat and die just like those pathetic omegas in sex ed who didn't listen to their doctors. This was how it ended for poor Peter Parker.

"Don't drag it out, Tony, go ahead."

"I can't do it like this, Bruce. No way. Maybe we should go back to Plan A after all."

Pathetic, thought Peter. You're pathetic, you can't even do one thing right, you're an omega and you can't even get fucked.

He really was a failure in every sense of the word.

-*-*-

Bruce shook his head at the sight of Peter's fruitless but increasingly frantic struggles. "Give him a quick spank," he advised. "That should settle him down."

"Hey, you hear that, little one?" Tony gave him a tap with the back of his hand. "You need to calm down."

Bruce tried to hide his smile. "You’re soft on him," he said, shaking his head. "Both of you are hopeless." He cupped Peter’s buttocks in one big hand, squeezing - then offered a series of solid smacks.

One – two – three – four – while Peter moaned and squirmed but did not, Tony noted, attempt to pull away. His frenzied panting, in fact, finally slowed and stopped.

"Now, are you going to behave?" Bruce clapped his buttocks again, harder, and Peter groaned before nodding tearfully. Tony bet the sweet little thing had never been spanked in his life, no doubt he was usually too well behaved for that.

"You’re going to be nice and cooperative and let this soft alpha knot you up properly?" Bruce was rubbing his reddened ass soothingly. "Going to relax your bottom and take this big cock without fussing? Hmm?"

Peter swallowed as best he could around the ball. "Mn ...mmn-hmm."

“Good. Now just relax, kid, I’m not going to hurt you,” said Tony, holding his knees spread wide apart to peer at his soaking, clenching little hole.

"Stop stalling, Tony, we finally got him calmed down."

It was this or the facility, and Tony didn’t think he was capable of dropping the boy off now. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the head of his dick in. Peter’s muffled groans increased in pitch.

His hole was so tight that, if Bruce hadn’t already examined him and declared him fit for this, Tony would have worried that he was going to cause real damage. The boy was struggling weakly, tugging against his restraints, no doubt unfamiliar with the sensation of being taken this way – stretched open and filled up right where he was aching and sore and so, so sensitive. Tony didn’t let the protests distract him. There was an art to making sure the knot got into an omega’s hole at just the right moment, when it was swollen enough to catch, but not so swollen that it couldn’t get inside.

He wished he could give Peter more time to adjust, but there was no more time; he took hold of the boy's narrow hips and planted himself in deep with one solid stroke, enjoying his muffled yelp.

"Very nice," said Bruce, approving. Tony grinned at him.

Some good deep thrusts had Peter finally falling still silent, stunned. He must feel so helpless, so owned – he couldn’t do anything, trussed up tight like he was, with a mouth full of rubber. He couldn’t tell Tony to stop or go slower. He’d already given his permission and now he just had to take it. His little virgin ass, finally crammed full to bursting.

"Does it ache a little, honey?" cooed Bruce, pulling the boy's head up, stroking his soft hair. Peter nodded, his big eyes wet. "That's good. That means he's doing it right. Wait till he gets his knot up there."

Tony groaned at the thought, thrusting harder. The pale little buttocks jiggled with every stroke. There was only one thing, thought Tony, one thing that could make this better ...

"Hey, Bruce - you gonna take his mouth, right? He loves that." Peter moaned, his asshole finally relaxing, a rivulet of clear slick sliding out around the swollen base of Tony's cock.

"I don't know, Tony, it might be too much for him."

"Nah, you were right, I was underestimating him - he’s a tough little guy," said Tony. "And it's medicinal, okay, the more cum the better, right? C'mon, use that mouth while I stretch out this ass." He had settled into a nice, deep rhythm, one eye on the bulging base of his cock. Not quite time yet, but soon.

Meanwhile Bruce had already tugged the boy's gag loose, letting it drop down on his chest like a collar. Oh yes, Tony liked that idea. A collar with a tag that read Property of Starkner Industries.

Peter groaned and lunged to get the cock Bruce was - fuckin' finally - pulling loose from his pants. God what a trouser snake - Tony just knew he'd be packing. They were both fully dressed, Tony realized, baring just enough to get the job done, with only Peter naked as the day he was born. Now he wished all three of them had managed to strip down completely.

His knot began to swell at the thought of it; he eyed the boy to make sure the pain wasn't too much as he shoved it in deep, willing himself to lock in place as he expanded rapidly.

Peter was well distracted though, Bruce roughly fucking his mouth, milking those sloppy wet sounds out of him as he opened his throat. Who would have thought the gentle doctor would be savage in bed? Christ, look at those veins bulging in his neck. It was always the quiet ones.

Peter moaned as his ass started to clamp down on Tony's growing knot. He must be so sore - but they would make him feel better, they would soothe and heal him, their come on his skin, in his mouth, in his tight little asshole – he couldn’t keep them out, he had to accept it all, every drop of it. His scrawny little body stuffed with cock, one at each end, like it was made to be, the only thing that could sate him.

"He feel good?" Tony panted, his knot still slowly fattening up.

"Oh yeah," said Bruce, stroking the boy’s face lovingly. Peter hummed in pleasure. "He’s got such a perfect little mouth, Tony - so hot and wet."

"Oh God I'm about to come. Oh, hold on Peter, sweetheart, oh God -"

Finally those last perfect inches, stimulating the deep inner glands of Peter's body - his expression of almost comical surprise as the knot kept on expanding inside of him, making room for itself in the desperate clutch of his ass. It made sense, Peter had never been knotted before, he probably didn’t anticipate exactly how it felt being filled up this way, trapped. Tony gave him a few slow thrusts to let him really feel it, just a slow churn really, and Peter mewled and squirmed.

"Just take it, omega. Just take it all."

With a grunt Bruce came violently at his words, holding Peter down as he choked, and Tony groaned at the thought of that rich cum flooding his insides, filling up his belly with a warm salty load. Was it that thought, or the sight of Bruce's sated, satisfied face that had him spurting the first few drops of cum into Peter's snug channel?

"Ahh, that's the shit," he sighed, just letting his hips pump mindlessly, knowing the boy could handle it. Could take both of them easily, as much as they had to give.

He sighed and leaned forward, over the boy's naked back. Offered a soft kiss to Bruce, who accepted it with a crooked smile.

He had a feeling it would be a long time before his knot finally began to deflate.

-*-*-

Peter was – floating. He felt different than he’d ever felt in his whole life, light and airy like he’d – like he’d just been emptied out of everything that bothered him.

He was back on the table, although he had no memory of being released from the bench or moved. Someone had fed him little sips of water, rubbing his chest and telling him that he was beautiful, that he had done so well, that they were so proud of him ...

“His numbers look great now. Fever's gone, pulse is good ... I really think that's done it. Let's go ahead and clean him up a little, then we can get his plug back in."

Firm hands tapped his thigh. Shyly, Peter let his knees fall apart. Dr. Banner wiped the inside of his legs first, then took him by the backs of his thighs and lifted up, like – like a baby being changed. Peter whined when he started wiping around his messy hole, where some of the slick and cum had already started oozing out. He felt loose and stretched until Dr. Banner pushed the plug from before back inside. It stung and felt good at the same time.

"That’s it, almost done," said Dr. Banner, rubbing the cloth over his crack, pushing his buttocks apart. Then he laid Peter back down – legs still spread wide – and used the other side of the cloth to scrub his soaked belly, gently over his balls and around the base of his cock. “Done,” he said, patting Peter’s naked hip. “I don’t think you need a pull-up yet. Let me know if you want one.”

Peter flushed – even if he didn’t say the word 'diaper,' that’s still what it was.

He felt himself scooped up and settled on Mr. Stark's lap, tucked in under his chin, where Peter could smell his musky Alpha scent, rocket fuel and gunpowder and 4D-40. Peter loved it. He nuzzled lovingly at the flesh, opening his mouth to suck on the skin. Mr. Stark stroked his hair, wrapping his other arm around his waist, and Peter squirmed in happiness.

"Hey Bruce, is it true that omegas could take two dicks in the same hole, if nobody popped a knot?"

"I don't know about that. We barely got your one dick in this one."

"Well, that was his first time, that doesn't count" said Mr. Stark, bouncing Peter a little on his lap. His hand slipped down to rub Peter’s naked ass. That felt good, and Peter moaned. "It's gotta be possible. You've just gotta want it bad enough."

"I'd never doubt the will of the great Tony Stark," said Dr. Banner mildly. Peter shivered at the wet sounds of their lips meeting over his head. That hand was still rubbing soothing circles over his ass.

Mr. Stark paused. "He's starting to leak back here," he reported. "Do you want –" he cleared his throat. "I’m going to put you in a pull-up, Petey. Hold on, I'll go fetch one from the kit. Take him, Bruce, he likes to be held."

"Nooo," Peter whimpered, accepting the transfer to Dr. Banner’s lap. Dr Banner was a big broad man and his chest felt good under Peter's cheek.

"Shush. It’ll be better for you to keep clean. Be a good omega." Firm hands patted his back.

Peter forgot why he was upset. He felt good, his head resting limp on Dr. Banner’s shoulder, a big hand holding him in place. He crossed his wrists behind his back, imagining that Mr. Stark had tied them there.

But then he was being carried, and placed back on the table, and he whimpered, wanting to get back to that safe space.

"Shush now. Hold still. He's exhausted, Tony. After this he needs a nap."

The process was humiliating to Peter – he hadn’t been diapered since potty training – but Mr. Stark talked him through it, swaddling his hips in the thick, spongy material and taping down the sides. Peter had to admit that the absorbency came as something of a relief. Like most omegas he didn’t like to get messy with his slick, and the plug could only prevent so much.

"There." A palm patted his padded ass. "Nice and snug. Let me know when you need a change."

"Can do it," said Peter, struggling to articulate.

Mr. Stark rubbed his head until Peter relaxed. "I know you could, but it’s better for us to do it, so we can keep an eye on you."

"On my ass," whispered Peter.

"That’s right, on that tight little ass of yours. Need to keep it stuffed up all the time so this doesn’t happen again."

The blanket was spread over him. Peter hummed, luxuriating in how soft it was against his naked flesh.

"Here’s your pacifier, honey." Peter opened his mouth to accept it and suckled thankfully.

"Jeez, he's really out of it. I think we broke his brain."

A broad hand stroked his hair. "Peter, even though your heat is sated for now, it's likely that it will come back in another few months," said Dr. Banner confidingly. "Omegas with strong cycles like this tend to have a rough go of it, so you might find that many of your symptoms return."

"He’s saying that he wants you to call us," said Mr. Stark, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Bruce, you have zero game, you know that? We want you to think about being our omega, Peter."

“You don’t have to, of course,” added Dr. Banner hurriedly. “And you might just want Tony. Or perhaps you prefer a partner your own age, or a female. Don't worry, you can trust our discretion completely if that's what you decide.”

“Hey Bruce, you mind not talking him out of this until I’m done talking him into it?”

Peter smiled, exhausted but content. When he could talk properly - when he could think - he'd explain how desperately he wanted to belong to both of them, forever. He was going to be on their cool science team, helping people and saving lives. He was going to call them by their first names.

But for now, he reached out to grip what he could – a fold of Mr. Stark's expensive shirt, the cuff of Dr. Banner’s lab coat – and tugged them in, clinging like flypaper.

They had the rest of their lives to make plans.