#lee spiderbyte

Lyla huffed as another little red circle appeared in her inbox, the sixth one this day. She only needed to read the subject of the notification to see what people were nagging her about this time, and the time before that, and the time before that. “Problem with the Go-Home-Machine”.

It didn’t feel good to have been getting a constant string of complaints about something she helped to create but it couldn’t be helped. Well more accurately, it could be helped, that’s why every Spiderman, woman and everything else in between were bothering her to do something about it. Normally, she would’ve fixed it up but Miguel was going out in the field, so she had to be there to support him. So, Lyla went to the second most logical option.

“Hey Margs,” she announced, popping up on Margo’s desk. She was currently in the operating room for the GHM (that’s Go-Home-Machine) though she had just clocked in for the day and was oblivious to its errors. Margo shrieked as Lyla appeared, swatting her hand through her small body, causing the hologram to flicker before fixing itself.

“Jeez, Lyla! Don’t scare me like that!” Margo whined, slumping down in her chair and staring at the ceiling. That didn’t deter Lyla, who simply floated above her head staring down at Margo.

“Sorry, but you have a job to do today. Go-Home-Machine’s been bugging out, I need you to look at me for me while I’m out on the field.” Lyla declared, to which Margo rolled her eyes.

“Would a please kill you, girl?” Margo smirked, though she was already getting up to get on with her task. Lyla followed along for a bit, both of their bodies glitching through the screen separating them from the GHM, it’s metal legs hanging limply in the air.

“You’re thanked enough by being allowed to stay here. Now, good luck with your task, I’ll check back in on you in a few.” Lyla declared before she blipped it out of existence, leaving Margo alone with the faulty apparatus. She sighed, Lyla hadn’t even bothered explaining what was wrong with it so it was up to her to see what these glitches that were too important for Lyla were. There was probably some better, longer way of finding out what was wrong by taking a gander at its coding, but Margo thought of a much simpler solution.

Margo duplicated her avatar, one standing of the podium beneath the machine’s pincers while the other one worked in the operating room, flipping levers and pressing buttons, causing the GHM to whir to life, clunky sounds of wires and servos filling the room. She hummed in satisfaction, reforming herself to just a singular avatar. It’s mandibles worked with precise accuracy, amber and lemon energy prickling around her, creating a forcefield that left her and the GHM isolated from the surroundings. Margo looked around quizzically, everything seemed to be working fine so far.

That was until those thin, long steel limbs slipped between her wrists, holding her arms above her head. Margo’s brow furrowed as they weaved their strange, glowing, slightly squishy and sticky orange webbing around her hands, connecting them together.

“That’s not supposed to happeeEE-!” Margo didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence as a claw dragged down from her armpit to the bottom of her hip. She would’ve almost thought something like that was a fluke but with the way the other claws were positioned around her, all posed and inches from her skin like a bear trap, she could’ve sworn they were wiggling at her. All Margo could do was sigh.

“God dammit Lyl-ahaahahaHAHAHAahahaha!!” Margo’s assailants struck, about two or three of the claws dug into each other her sides, surprisingly not in a painful manner. Whatever this big was trying to do it wasn’t malicious, just annoying and embarrassing, at least for Margo. They wriggled about against her skin like how someone would play with a stress ball, before starting to spider up and down her sides, leaving her torso positively buzzing with ticklish attention. She tried to jump about from side to side, but she’d just end up jumping back and forth between the sets of claws, forcing even more laughter from her mouth.

“FuhuhuhHUHuck, sohohohomeone heheHEHEHLP!!” Margo called out, trying to curl in on herself but with her arms way above her head, she was as exposed as could be. Some more of the claws found themselves positioned in a row along the odd outstretched arms of hers, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Margo glared at them with wild, nervous eyes, simultaneously desperate for them to just get it over with and to rip herself far, far away from the GHM. Suddenly, they struck by drumming and tapping against her underarms, though a few of them circled and scraped against her armpits.

“AAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!” Margo screeched once the anticipation finally broke, simply left with an empty feeling of ticklish dread. She shook all about, shaking her head, clenching her fists, pounding her feet against the floor that she was slightly raised off of, tugging at her wrists, but nothing she did could stop the hysterical laughter pouring out from her mouth. The GHM didn’t seem to take note of just how ticklish the poor girl was, it was just a machine after all. Instead, it continued upping the ante, letting the claws at her sides and arms continuously work in an agonisingly repetitive fashion. A few more claws seemed to materialise, accurately positioning themselves in a ring around her thighs. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting like she did with her arms, instead the little arms began scratching and tracing against her legs. Margo squealed, feeling a winded blush creep onto her face. She bounced about from her bound hands, kicking about wildly against the forcefield enveloping her, but she’d just end up feeling a sharp buzzing in her sole whenever she did that.

“OHOHO, COHOHOHME OHOHOHOHN!!” Margo huffed, how did they even program that? She could barely even find the time to close her mouth or breathe, the flood gates of her laughter having been totally broken open, leaving a wide smile on her face and a burning feeling in her chest. It felt like the more she struggled, the more those pointed mandibles would dig into her. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t sit still at all, flailing all about with a desperate need to get away from all these mischievous claws. Since that wasn’t working though, she figured to do the only thing I could think of.

“LYLA!! LYLAHA-AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!” Margo screamed over and over, whining slightly as she did her best to sit still with each passing second that her saviour didn’t appear. It felt like years for Margo, but Lyla answered after a few moments of waiting, blipping it existence before her face once again.

“You know I’m busy, ri-what happened here?!” Lyla blurted out, taking off her heart shaped sunglasses to get a good look at Margo. Poor girl had a gaping smile on her very red face, she probably didn’t want to be seen in such a state, her body was shaking, overwhelmed by the ticklish jabs and scritches all over her body.

“I DOHOHN’T KNOHOHW, JUHUHUST FIHIHIX IT!!” Margo barked at her, kicking at Lyla as if that was going to help anything. Lyla just narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

”Kinda rude, Byte, now I don’t wanna help you.” She joked, which made Margo’s face go red with a mix of rage and embarrassment.

“LYHYHYHYHLA!!” Margo wailed apologetically, or in frustration, it was hard to tell with how tickled out she seemed. Lyla made some noise of agreement, followed by a “fine.” A digital display of the MHG’s code appeared in front of Lyla, to which she began scrolling through and mumbling to herself, but Margo was much too impatient to just let her work.

“DONOHOHO SOHOHOHOMETHING!!” Margo screamed, already feeling a few tears prick up in her eyes. Lyla looked up at her and smirked, casually tapping away at her interface as she spoke.

“Oh, alright, if you insist.” She teased, to which another of the GHM’s claws came to life, positioning itself in front of Margo’s naval. It dug its way against the sensitive button before circling and swirling around against the fabric of her clothes. Margo finally exploded, laughing hysterically as a few tears slipped down her face, thrashing about with a fierce determination to escape, despite how tired her muscles were from attempting to get away so, so many times.

“PLEAHAHAHAHAAHAHSE!!” Margo broke, to which Lyla turned a little more sympathetic. Only a little.

“Oh, look at that, it did practically kill you just to say please, interesting.” Lyla giggles before turning her attention back to the keyboard, hastily tapping away at it. Slowly, all of the little, prying claws slowed to a halt, slithering away to resume their previous position. The webs around Margo’s wrists soon dissipated and dissolved around her, leading her to fall down on her feet, and then her knees, tiredly keeled over on the floor. She took in long deep breaths, a lingering, tingly sensation covering practically her whole body. Lyla appeared beneath her face, trying to wipe away her tears.

“There, there, that’s all over now. You alright?” Lyla asked tenderly, Margo let out one final wheeze before rising to her feet.

“You suck, you know,” she teased with a smile, “I’m fine, thanks, but how did that even happen?!” Margo threw her arms above her head in exclamation to which Lyla winced.

“Oooo, that’s a funny story, haha.” Lyla chuckled awkwardly. “See, when I was making the code for this little thing, I ended up copying some of the code for the machine Miguel used to put on his suit which I…may or may not have tampered with a few times to mess with him and forget to take it out.” Lyla smiled with her teeth though that didn’t seem to please Margo, who just stared at her with narrowed eyes.

“You do suck.” Margo tried to keep a stern composure but she couldn’t help but giggle a little at Lyla’s antics. “Well, it would seem like a waste to remove something interesting like this without testing it a little…more.” She blushed at that last part, but Lyla seemed very intrigued by Margo’s idea.

“Oooo, you think good, Margs, you think good. Who are you thinking, Miguel, Gwen, Peter B?” Lyla listed on her fingers, having seemingly forgotten all about the rest of the week she was meant to be doing in favour of some mischief.