Beneath the mask, Peter had to roll his eyes a little. Sporting a gut in costume was the least of his concerns, really. "A little Photoshop magic before the Daily Bugle puts their photos out will fix that right up."

Now that they were stopped, he took the opportunity to stretch a little, carefully twisting himself from side to side, raising his arms over his head and then out in front of him. The strain sucked. Slowly Peter was deciding that he was in no danger of splitting open while in mid-air; he could probably push himself a little closer to his limit.

"And it's not the fast food's fault. It's the unlimited Jell-O supply at the hospital."