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Description
Peter was disturbed from his midday nap on the sofa by the sound of a buzzer going off at the door.

A buzzer that was accompanied by a robotic, female voice.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker. Please come to the door. The voice said between buzzes before repeating with a tireless drone as Peter let out a pained groan as he forced his eyes open and heaved himself off the sofa.

His belly ached as he pushed himself upright before plopping his shoeless feet onto the soft carpeted floor and did as he was told.

Two footprints lit up in green on a tile of the obsidian black marble floor about an arms reach away from the metal door in the opaque glass wall that separated Peter from the rest of the prison.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please stand in the designated area. The female voice continued to drone as Peter made his way to the door.

Once he was there, he planted both his white-socked feet onto the two green footprints and waited.
Then a faint click sounded from the floorplate.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, is in position. The voice stated tonelessly as Peter waited patiently where he was standing.

His belly made a pained groan, causing Peter to moan for a moment and put both his hands on the tight, round sphere that protruded out of his midsection.
Yesterday, he hadn't had a belly the that was larger than a football. No. Yesterday, his chest had been flat.
But today, his lower midsection took a definitive outward curve beneath his uniform. His uniform that yesterday was loose fitting and baggy.
Today, on the other hand, it was considerably tighter, especially around his near rock solid belly that had been apparent on his figure since his first lunch yesterday.

Since then, he had eaten a similarly sized dinner and breakfast to the lunch that rounded up his waistline and considerably tightened his uniform in a one go.
He had gone from a noticeable and tight muffintop at the end of his first lunch.

To a potbelly when he had gone to bed after his first dinner.
Then he had gone from a small potbelly to a much more pronounced potbelly after his first breakfast.

Now after his midday nap, Peter was pretty sure that his stuffed belly would barely even shrink if he tried to suck it in.

And even after he had taken a nap after the big breakfast he had been served this morning his stomach still hadn't fully digested what he ate yet.

But before Peter had a chance to calm down his aggravated stomach, the female voice sounded up again.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker. Please remain within an arm's reach of the door. Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please raise your arms and reach towards the door. If your hands reach the door, take a step backward until you do not reach it. This security measure will conclude when you do not reach the door. The voice instructed Peter did as he was told and ignored his gurgling belly for a moment to straighten out his arms and reach for the door.

After having grabbed the air for a few seconds, there was another click.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker is out of reach of the door. The voice stated patiently as Peter lowered his arms back to his side. Only to quickly move them back to his gurgling and stuffed belly a second later as it groaned beneath its orange confinement.
And then the voice continued.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please remain within an arms reach of the door. Any signs of aggression, such as: Any sudden and quick movements. Any attempted violent act against yourself or prison personnel. Any attempts to pull the guard into the cell. Will result in immediate subdual and reproval. And possible restrictions on your privileges. The voice informed dully and even though Peter had only gone through the song and dance three times already, he already rolled his eyes at the monotone spiel that he was told.

There was another click as Peter waited as patiently as he could while remaining as still as he could where he stood.

Then the rectangular hatch in the metal door slid up and out of the way.

And the sweet aroma of food wafted through the rectangular opening as the second of Peter's six daily opportunities for human contact happened.

A pair of dark-skinned hands came through the opening, holding a handle of a silver tray in each hand.

Then, as Peter leaned forward, the hands moved so that the right supported the weight of the silver tray while the left went for the top of the heat-conserving dome that also hid the food from Peter's view.

- Here's your lunch, prisoner 196290815. The guard said as courteously as he could while he handed over the silver tray to Peter's waiting hands while pulling off the silver lid at the same time.
- Sweet! Peter exclaimed excitedly as he saw the first class, top quality food that he was being served.
On the first tray, there was a top quality, super-sized burger with a similarly sized and equally high quality looking bag of french fries beside it.
And beside it was a simple, yet elegant looking, top quality cheese and ham sandwich.
Both meals resting on a still hot plate and both still oozing heat and smell of their own.

He gratefully accepted the tray and as the guard retracted their hands, Peter put the silver lid back onto the tray and made his way to the sofa where he put it down on the glass table.
Once he returned to the door empty-handed, he found the guard reaching through the door with another silver tray waiting for him in his hands.

This continued seven more times until Peter had nine silver trays all lined up across the glass table in front of the sofa.
Each tray contained a typical meal by itself. But triplicated, just three of them could count as a three-course meal in and of itself.
Each of the nine trays was separated into 3 categories. Taster. Main course. Dessert. But as previously stated, there was enough on one of the plates to qualify as a meal in and of itself. Regardless if it was only "Tasters" or "Desserts".
And each tray of each category was a variation of one type of meal.
For example, the main course of Peter's lunch was all a sandwich of the highest quality, paired with a hamburger and fries of equal quality. One was meat, the other chicken and the third was a different kind of meat. And each paired with a different bread and type of fries. As well as a different kind of sandwich to boot.
So while Peter got the same chewing experience for each part of the main course, his taste experience varied greatly from one tray to the next.
The same kind of rule applied to the "Tasters" and "Dessert". Same theme, different variations of it.

And once Peter had lined everything up, with the "Tasters" in the front, the "Main Course" in the middle and the "Desserts" at the back of the table, he pulled the silver lids off one last time before he turned on the Tv and started digging into his lunch.

The first time his food had arrived at his cell, Peter had been in for one hell of a surprise.

He was still expecting that he would be treated as every other kind of riff-raff and thug that he had helped put behind bars at the place.

So he did not have high expectations when he went through the security procedure for the first time.

The dehumanizing security treatment was enough of a stark reminder that he was still, in all but name, a prisoner.

Sure, his cell was like that out of a dream and he had a lot of liberties and freedoms that had been revoked from his fellow prisoners the moment that they were arrested.
So when he was not handed a small tray of flimsy plastic the size of a school book with a bit of gravy, jam, mashed potatoes and meatballs and instead was given a still hot, shining silver tray with a lid over his food, he was in for a surprise.
And he was even more surprised when he saw what his lunch was for the first day in the cell.
Yes, he was given mashed potatoes, gravy, and jam. But the quantity was A LOT bigger. And all three looked A LOT fresher and seemed to be of a much higher quality.
And instead of being given 5 or so puny meatballs with barely any meat in them, he was given a large, still oozing and mouth-watering well-done steak to go with the other bits.
(The variant of the main course, in that case, had been the way the meat was cooked, the kind of sauce and jam, as well as the spices in the mashed potatoes.)

Peter barely believed it and had even called up the warden once he had put down all NINE clean, silver trays onto the glass table.
He still kept the lids on as he sat down on the sofa and asked the warden whether this was a First Day Special Treatment for a Special Prisoner, or not.
And he also asked if he was going to get the kind of poor quality food that he was expecting to be given for dinner later. Or if he was only going to be fed once a day, to explain the quantity of food that he was given.

The Warden had gotten a good laugh from his panic-filled quandaries before he had placated his worries and dashed his expectations.
Because apparently, the answer to whether or not his first lunch was a special occurrence or not was "No". It wasn't a special occurrence in the least.
And that he could expect the same kind of quality and quantity for dinner and breakfast as well.
He was a high priority prisoner in the eyes of the facility and he was going to be treated as such.
As luxuriously as Peter could possibly imagine.
Peter still hadn't believed The Warden at that point and said as such.
The Warden had responded that if he wasn't expecting to have a dinner that matched the quality of his lunch, then he was going to be in for a treat.
Then The Warden had explained the rules of how the meals were set up to him.

And later in the day, a few hours after he had managed to cram all the food he had been given and had his dirty dishes taken by the guards, even while dealing with a massive stomach ache, an ache that was still as prevalent as before, Peter had been called to the door to receive his dinner.

And both his positive and negative expectations of what his dinner was going to be were both dashed and thrown out the window.

His dinner had been of the same quality as his lunch. And it was an even bigger quantity than his lunch. Which Peter honestly did not think was possible. He had even told The Warden such and gotten a laugh and a challenge to try the food before he made his judgment.
He did.
And he was sorely mistaken about whether or not his dinner would beat his lunch.
It did.
No questions about that.

By the end of the day, Peter had gone to bed that day feeling as stuffed a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.

But with a tummy ache that felt as big as the prison itself, Peter had gone out like a light and become dead to the world shortly after his head hit the pillow of his luxury bed.

Earlier in the morning of his second day, he had been woken up by the lights switching on and The Warden calling him to get up over the Cell Remote.

Shortly after, Peter had been served his 9 plates of breakfast foods in nothing more than a pair of striped boxers and the white tank top he had been given by the prison. Not that the guard that gave him his food saw him.

Peter had asked The Warden once again whether or not all of this was some kind of Prisoner's Firsts special treatment while he ate his breakfast or not.
The Warden had reaffirmed his previous words and had simply repeated him that "No", this wasn't any kind of special treatment. This was the treatment that any inmate that would be locked up in the cell that he was currently in would receive.
This time Peter believed him. At least a bit.

And then, when Peter had laid his eyes on the burgers, sandwiches, desserts and various tasters that made up his lunch, he put a lot more credibility on The Warden's voice.
Especially when he tasted the burgers.
Their taste was beyond exquisite.
As was the taste of everything else.
It was an absolutely glorious time for his tastebud as well as his belly.
Especially for his belly.

Even as he felt it expand with every bite he took, his clothes and uniform stretching as his belly continued to grow.

But Peter couldn't stop himself from finishing a meal once he had started it.
It was that was just that gooooooooood.
And so very, very, very tasty.

And the more he ate of his lunch, the more he hoped that it wasn't a hoax to make his first week in isolation from the world more bearable.

If The Warden's words really were true and every one of his meals that he would be served during his four-month stay in the cell was of the same quality as the four meals he had already had. Then the prospect of spending 4 months in the cell seemed a lot more welcoming and enjoyable by the minute.

By the end of his lunch, Peter had moved the last plate of burgers and fries onto the sofa as he enjoyed the show that he was currently watching while he ate.
And as he ate and watched, he considered the possibility and the probability of The Warden's words being true and every meal that he would have during his stay in the prison would be as good as the ones he had already eaten.
Because if The Warden's words were true, which they probably where then Peter could definitively see himself enjoying his stay in the cell.
- I could get used to this. Peter said to himself as he chowed down on his second burger out of three as he continued watching NCIS.
He ignored the feeling of the orange fabric stretching with nearly every bite that he took as his already pretty full belly made another gurgle as Peter stuffed it further with food.
There was no doubt in Peter's mind that his belly was becoming even bigger and an even more prominent and pronounced feature on his body the further into his lunch that he got.
But Peter really didn't care about the fact that he had considered the uniform too small when he was given it yesterday, and now, he was already showing signs of growing out of it.
Rapidly at that.

Peter guessed that by the end of his four month stay, he would no doubt be in a pretty bad shape if he kept up the food consumption he was going with at the moment.
But he was alone in the cell. There was no one there to tell him "No" or stop him from finishing his every meal completely, not leaving a single plate untouched and stuffing himself silly in the process.
Because he could work it off.
Hopefully.
It wasn't as if he hadn't worked himself into shape before.
One did not become a web-slinging hero without having some good muscles on their body after all.
And one did not gain those muscles by doing nothing every day.
As he was probably going to be doing now.
Which no doubt would only cause his already pretty sizeable belly to get even bigger as time progressed.
But Peter was pretty sure he could work of any weight that he gained during his stay in the cell once he was released.
He had worked himself into shape before. And he could no doubt do so again.
He could even do it while inside the prison if he wanted to.
There was a small gym in his cell after all. So he might as well use it.
That might save his muscles from atrophying to badly while he enjoyed the privileges and luxuries that he had been given inside the cell.

But he wasn't going to do that now.
Now, he was going to properly settle into his current situation.

And just he was already getting used to his cell that he was living in for the short foreseeable future. As well as the food that he was going to be given three times a day. Peter was pretty sure that he was going to get used to feeling like a stuffed turkey on the day before Thanksgiving after every meal.

Considering how little he ate on a daily basis otherwise, he was almost looking forward to getting used to that feeling already.

To Be Continued.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finished.

And that's a wrap for this month's part.

Told you that the parts would get shorter after the first part.

The first part was the longest because it had A LOT to establish and set up.

And now that all of it has been established, I can now focus in on things and scenes of the story that is more interesting than a tummy less set up.

Which is what this series will mostly be comprised off.

Short snippets, tales and stand out moments and days during Peter's 4-month stay in the most luxurious cell in the world.

Next time: Part 3: Growing Out.

And now, a question.

What title suits this work the best?

"A Fattening Time Behind Bars."

"Incarcerated And Expanding."

"Peter Parker's Luxurious Prison Visit."

Another Patreon request by me done by the ever amazing and ever friendly

This was this month Patreon request to

Part 3: Growing Out: robinlightwalker.deviantart.co…

March 5th 2018 Update: Changed some lines and added some more text at places.

Update 2018/04/08: Updated some lines, corrected one line to match with a fact that will be talked about later and changed some structure.

Update 2018/04/10: Updated some grammar and restructured a segment.

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.

Description
Peter was disturbed from his midday nap on the sofa by the sound of a buzzer going off at the door.

A buzzer that was accompanied by a robotic, female voice.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker. Please come to the door. The voice said between buzzes before repeating with a tireless drone as Peter let out a pained groan as he forced his eyes open and heaved himself off the sofa.

His belly ached as he pushed himself upright before plopping his shoeless feet onto the soft carpeted floor and did as he was told.

Two footprints lit up in green on a tile of the obsidian black marble floor about an arms reach away from the metal door in the opaque glass wall that separated Peter from the rest of the prison.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please stand in the designated area. The female voice continued to drone as Peter made his way to the door.

Once he was there, he planted both his white-socked feet onto the two green footprints and waited.
Then a faint click sounded from the floorplate.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, is in position. The voice stated tonelessly as Peter waited patiently where he was standing.

His belly made a pained groan, causing Peter to moan for a moment and put both his hands on the tight, round sphere that protruded out of his midsection.
Yesterday, he hadn't had a belly the that was larger than a football. No. Yesterday, his chest had been flat.
But today, his lower midsection took a definitive outward curve beneath his uniform. His uniform that yesterday was loose fitting and baggy.
Today, on the other hand, it was considerably tighter, especially around his near rock solid belly that had been apparent on his figure since his first lunch yesterday.

Since then, he had eaten a similarly sized dinner and breakfast to the lunch that rounded up his waistline and considerably tightened his uniform in a one go.
He had gone from a noticeable and tight muffintop at the end of his first lunch.

To a potbelly when he had gone to bed after his first dinner.
Then he had gone from a small potbelly to a much more pronounced potbelly after his first breakfast.

Now after his midday nap, Peter was pretty sure that his stuffed belly would barely even shrink if he tried to suck it in.

And even after he had taken a nap after the big breakfast he had been served this morning his stomach still hadn't fully digested what he ate yet.

But before Peter had a chance to calm down his aggravated stomach, the female voice sounded up again.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker. Please remain within an arm's reach of the door. Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please raise your arms and reach towards the door. If your hands reach the door, take a step backward until you do not reach it. This security measure will conclude when you do not reach the door. The voice instructed Peter did as he was told and ignored his gurgling belly for a moment to straighten out his arms and reach for the door.

After having grabbed the air for a few seconds, there was another click.

- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker is out of reach of the door. The voice stated patiently as Peter lowered his arms back to his side. Only to quickly move them back to his gurgling and stuffed belly a second later as it groaned beneath its orange confinement.
And then the voice continued.
- Prisoner 19620815: Peter Parker, please remain within an arms reach of the door. Any signs of aggression, such as: Any sudden and quick movements. Any attempted violent act against yourself or prison personnel. Any attempts to pull the guard into the cell. Will result in immediate subdual and reproval. And possible restrictions on your privileges. The voice informed dully and even though Peter had only gone through the song and dance three times already, he already rolled his eyes at the monotone spiel that he was told.

There was another click as Peter waited as patiently as he could while remaining as still as he could where he stood.

Then the rectangular hatch in the metal door slid up and out of the way.

And the sweet aroma of food wafted through the rectangular opening as the second of Peter's six daily opportunities for human contact happened.

A pair of dark-skinned hands came through the opening, holding a handle of a silver tray in each hand.

Then, as Peter leaned forward, the hands moved so that the right supported the weight of the silver tray while the left went for the top of the heat-conserving dome that also hid the food from Peter's view.

- Here's your lunch, prisoner 196290815. The guard said as courteously as he could while he handed over the silver tray to Peter's waiting hands while pulling off the silver lid at the same time.
- Sweet! Peter exclaimed excitedly as he saw the first class, top quality food that he was being served.
On the first tray, there was a top quality, super-sized burger with a similarly sized and equally high quality looking bag of french fries beside it.
And beside it was a simple, yet elegant looking, top quality cheese and ham sandwich.
Both meals resting on a still hot plate and both still oozing heat and smell of their own.

He gratefully accepted the tray and as the guard retracted their hands, Peter put the silver lid back onto the tray and made his way to the sofa where he put it down on the glass table.
Once he returned to the door empty-handed, he found the guard reaching through the door with another silver tray waiting for him in his hands.

This continued seven more times until Peter had nine silver trays all lined up across the glass table in front of the sofa.
Each tray contained a typical meal by itself. But triplicated, just three of them could count as a three-course meal in and of itself.
Each of the nine trays was separated into 3 categories. Taster. Main course. Dessert. But as previously stated, there was enough on one of the plates to qualify as a meal in and of itself. Regardless if it was only "Tasters" or "Desserts".
And each tray of each category was a variation of one type of meal.
For example, the main course of Peter's lunch was all a sandwich of the highest quality, paired with a hamburger and fries of equal quality. One was meat, the other chicken and the third was a different kind of meat. And each paired with a different bread and type of fries. As well as a different kind of sandwich to boot.
So while Peter got the same chewing experience for each part of the main course, his taste experience varied greatly from one tray to the next.
The same kind of rule applied to the "Tasters" and "Dessert". Same theme, different variations of it.

And once Peter had lined everything up, with the "Tasters" in the front, the "Main Course" in the middle and the "Desserts" at the back of the table, he pulled the silver lids off one last time before he turned on the Tv and started digging into his lunch.

The first time his food had arrived at his cell, Peter had been in for one hell of a surprise.

He was still expecting that he would be treated as every other kind of riff-raff and thug that he had helped put behind bars at the place.

So he did not have high expectations when he went through the security procedure for the first time.

The dehumanizing security treatment was enough of a stark reminder that he was still, in all but name, a prisoner.

Sure, his cell was like that out of a dream and he had a lot of liberties and freedoms that had been revoked from his fellow prisoners the moment that they were arrested.
So when he was not handed a small tray of flimsy plastic the size of a school book with a bit of gravy, jam, mashed potatoes and meatballs and instead was given a still hot, shining silver tray with a lid over his food, he was in for a surprise.
And he was even more surprised when he saw what his lunch was for the first day in the cell.
Yes, he was given mashed potatoes, gravy, and jam. But the quantity was A LOT bigger. And all three looked A LOT fresher and seemed to be of a much higher quality.
And instead of being given 5 or so puny meatballs with barely any meat in them, he was given a large, still oozing and mouth-watering well-done steak to go with the other bits.
(The variant of the main course, in that case, had been the way the meat was cooked, the kind of sauce and jam, as well as the spices in the mashed potatoes.)

Peter barely believed it and had even called up the warden once he had put down all NINE clean, silver trays onto the glass table.
He still kept the lids on as he sat down on the sofa and asked the warden whether this was a First Day Special Treatment for a Special Prisoner, or not.
And he also asked if he was going to get the kind of poor quality food that he was expecting to be given for dinner later. Or if he was only going to be fed once a day, to explain the quantity of food that he was given.

The Warden had gotten a good laugh from his panic-filled quandaries before he had placated his worries and dashed his expectations.
Because apparently, the answer to whether or not his first lunch was a special occurrence or not was "No". It wasn't a special occurrence in the least.
And that he could expect the same kind of quality and quantity for dinner and breakfast as well.
He was a high priority prisoner in the eyes of the facility and he was going to be treated as such.
As luxuriously as Peter could possibly imagine.
Peter still hadn't believed The Warden at that point and said as such.
The Warden had responded that if he wasn't expecting to have a dinner that matched the quality of his lunch, then he was going to be in for a treat.
Then The Warden had explained the rules of how the meals were set up to him.

And later in the day, a few hours after he had managed to cram all the food he had been given and had his dirty dishes taken by the guards, even while dealing with a massive stomach ache, an ache that was still as prevalent as before, Peter had been called to the door to receive his dinner.

And both his positive and negative expectations of what his dinner was going to be were both dashed and thrown out the window.

His dinner had been of the same quality as his lunch. And it was an even bigger quantity than his lunch. Which Peter honestly did not think was possible. He had even told The Warden such and gotten a laugh and a challenge to try the food before he made his judgment.
He did.
And he was sorely mistaken about whether or not his dinner would beat his lunch.
It did.
No questions about that.

By the end of the day, Peter had gone to bed that day feeling as stuffed a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.

But with a tummy ache that felt as big as the prison itself, Peter had gone out like a light and become dead to the world shortly after his head hit the pillow of his luxury bed.

Earlier in the morning of his second day, he had been woken up by the lights switching on and The Warden calling him to get up over the Cell Remote.

Shortly after, Peter had been served his 9 plates of breakfast foods in nothing more than a pair of striped boxers and the white tank top he had been given by the prison. Not that the guard that gave him his food saw him.

Peter had asked The Warden once again whether or not all of this was some kind of Prisoner's Firsts special treatment while he ate his breakfast or not.
The Warden had reaffirmed his previous words and had simply repeated him that "No", this wasn't any kind of special treatment. This was the treatment that any inmate that would be locked up in the cell that he was currently in would receive.
This time Peter believed him. At least a bit.

And then, when Peter had laid his eyes on the burgers, sandwiches, desserts and various tasters that made up his lunch, he put a lot more credibility on The Warden's voice.
Especially when he tasted the burgers.
Their taste was beyond exquisite.
As was the taste of everything else.
It was an absolutely glorious time for his tastebud as well as his belly.
Especially for his belly.

Even as he felt it expand with every bite he took, his clothes and uniform stretching as his belly continued to grow.

But Peter couldn't stop himself from finishing a meal once he had started it.
It was that was just that gooooooooood.
And so very, very, very tasty.

And the more he ate of his lunch, the more he hoped that it wasn't a hoax to make his first week in isolation from the world more bearable.

If The Warden's words really were true and every one of his meals that he would be served during his four-month stay in the cell was of the same quality as the four meals he had already had. Then the prospect of spending 4 months in the cell seemed a lot more welcoming and enjoyable by the minute.

By the end of his lunch, Peter had moved the last plate of burgers and fries onto the sofa as he enjoyed the show that he was currently watching while he ate.
And as he ate and watched, he considered the possibility and the probability of The Warden's words being true and every meal that he would have during his stay in the prison would be as good as the ones he had already eaten.
Because if The Warden's words were true, which they probably where then Peter could definitively see himself enjoying his stay in the cell.
- I could get used to this. Peter said to himself as he chowed down on his second burger out of three as he continued watching NCIS.
He ignored the feeling of the orange fabric stretching with nearly every bite that he took as his already pretty full belly made another gurgle as Peter stuffed it further with food.
There was no doubt in Peter's mind that his belly was becoming even bigger and an even more prominent and pronounced feature on his body the further into his lunch that he got.
But Peter really didn't care about the fact that he had considered the uniform too small when he was given it yesterday, and now, he was already showing signs of growing out of it.
Rapidly at that.

Peter guessed that by the end of his four month stay, he would no doubt be in a pretty bad shape if he kept up the food consumption he was going with at the moment.
But he was alone in the cell. There was no one there to tell him "No" or stop him from finishing his every meal completely, not leaving a single plate untouched and stuffing himself silly in the process.
Because he could work it off.
Hopefully.
It wasn't as if he hadn't worked himself into shape before.
One did not become a web-slinging hero without having some good muscles on their body after all.
And one did not gain those muscles by doing nothing every day.
As he was probably going to be doing now.
Which no doubt would only cause his already pretty sizeable belly to get even bigger as time progressed.
But Peter was pretty sure he could work of any weight that he gained during his stay in the cell once he was released.
He had worked himself into shape before. And he could no doubt do so again.
He could even do it while inside the prison if he wanted to.
There was a small gym in his cell after all. So he might as well use it.
That might save his muscles from atrophying to badly while he enjoyed the privileges and luxuries that he had been given inside the cell.

But he wasn't going to do that now.
Now, he was going to properly settle into his current situation.

And just he was already getting used to his cell that he was living in for the short foreseeable future. As well as the food that he was going to be given three times a day. Peter was pretty sure that he was going to get used to feeling like a stuffed turkey on the day before Thanksgiving after every meal.

Considering how little he ate on a daily basis otherwise, he was almost looking forward to getting used to that feeling already.

To Be Continued.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finished.

And that's a wrap for this month's part.

Told you that the parts would get shorter after the first part.

The first part was the longest because it had A LOT to establish and set up.

And now that all of it has been established, I can now focus in on things and scenes of the story that is more interesting than a tummy less set up.

Which is what this series will mostly be comprised off.

Short snippets, tales and stand out moments and days during Peter's 4-month stay in the most luxurious cell in the world.

Next time: Part 3: Growing Out.

And now, a question.

What title suits this work the best?

"A Fattening Time Behind Bars."

"Incarcerated And Expanding."

"Peter Parker's Luxurious Prison Visit."

Another Patreon request by me done by the ever amazing and ever friendly

This was this month Patreon request to

Part 3: Growing Out: robinlightwalker.deviantart.co…

March 5th 2018 Update: Changed some lines and added some more text at places.

Update 2018/04/08: Updated some lines, corrected one line to match with a fact that will be talked about later and changed some structure.

Update 2018/04/10: Updated some grammar and restructured a segment.

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.