The web reached the target and was just sturdy enough for Spiderman to launch himself to safety. Where the foot came down with a loud crash where Peter once stood, he was flying through the air, landing roughly on top of his desk chair, panting, and thanking every god he could think of for his survival. "Thank you, God! Thank you, Buddha! Thank you, Allah! Thank you... Thor?" He was then alerted back to Aunt May, who picked up one of his soda cans from the desk. "Ugh, Peter, how many times do I have to remind you not to leave food in your room!" She shook her head, disgruntled by this before suddenly she was alerted to a chiming tone coming from her pocket. 

To Peter, this little jingle felt more like a volcanic blast that bled his ears. From his chair, he would watch his mountainous Aunt pull a phone from her pocket and bring it to her ear. "Hello? Oh, Mr Stark, hey, oh okay, Tony~. How's it going?" Even from Peter's little scale, he could see the tinge of red flushing his Aunt's cheeks. "Peter? No, haven't seen him today. He should have been home earlier, but I'm not sure what he is up to." 
Aunt May turned her back to the chair, and Peter's fears were confirmed as he watched the full, bubbly backside of his Aunt's rear slowly descend. Quickly he turned to the desk to launch another sling, but nothing came out, his web-shooters havering run dry.

"Not good, not good!" He panicked before turning to face the looming shadow overhead — Aunt May's spandex-clad rear blotting out the sky and rapidly falling towards the chair. With little option left, he turned to run, though too late, as the massive posterior came in contact and forced him onto his back. There Peter lay motionless and crushed between his chair and his Aunt's firm rear. Humiliation spread deep in his sole by being made helpless and at the mercy of Aunt May's ass. He felt the weight slowly build onto him, forcing him to take deep breaths of her after workout scent. Sweat soaked spandex, her warmth, her weight; this became his reality as it absorbed into his every sense. He could only pray that Aunt May would get up, but as he would find out soon, the woman he would never expect to hurt a fly would be the very same to end his life. 

"Sure, I'll tell him to call you when he gets home." She said as she crossed one leg over the other, unknowingly sealing her nephew's fate. With that leg crossing, the weight was now building up faster and more overwhelming. Peter could feel his ribcage fall in, pressing the air out of his lungs. His bones were splintering, and his organs were collapsing. A second later it was all over; his body popped like a grape though at a smaller scale. All that remained was a minute splatter of our former hero, glued to his Aunt's ass as she hung up the phone and stood. She stretched her arms, sighing as she walked to the bathroom, unaware of the tiny splatter that decorated the right cheek of her bouncy rear. Nor would she notice as she pulled off her leggings, tossing the sweat-soaked material into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower. That is where the remains of this the legendary hero would rest, until when a few days later, Aunt May brought laundry to the washer. With a few buttons clicked, all that remained of our hero Spiderman was washed away and sucked into the tubing hose, never seen again.