“Even if I get this foot off me, she’ll just try to squish me with the other one!” he thought, and realised that the only safe place to be was on top of the other foot.
“I guess you’re keener than me to take our relationship to the next STEP-ON,” said Spider-Man, and finally heaved the foot off himself, and pounced his way onto her other foot, before she could raise it any higher.
“I guess we just got off on the wrong foot,” said Spider-Man, and reached around her ankle with his arms and tied a web line to it. Then he swung around her other leg and snared it in the web line as well, and pulled both feet together and tied her tight.
The Black Cat fell to the ground and he looked side on at her angry mouth.
“Alright, you’ve beaten me,” she said, “I’m sorry I tried to stamp on you. It was just the heat of our combat. Maybe I can still make it worth your while to let me go.”
“Sorry, but diamonds aren’t a Spider-Man’s best friend,” he said.
“I wasn’t thinking of the diamonds,” said the Black Cat, “Maybe I can give you something you’d really enjoy at that size.”
“A giant massage! You’re too kind, but I won’t take that LYING DOWN,” said Spider-Man.
“Always with the jokes, but I meant this,” said the Black Cat.
Before he knew what was happening, she had brought her relatively giant lips towards him and kissed his tiny face and upper body. How was he feeling that? Then he realised that her eyes couldn’t see him while her lips were so close, that the costume had known this and retracted again, to enable him to feel the sensation of her giant kiss.
He quickly retreated as the costume reformed around him.
“Sorry, but no Kitty Kissy for me,” he said, unwilling to put Betty at risk by telling the Black Cat that she was his girlfriend.
“Why? Are you and Spider-Woman seeing each other?” asked the Black Cat.
“Never even met her,” said Spider-Man, “But think of that bag of diamonds which the cops are going to find you with. I couldn’t encourage you to STEAL it with a kiss, now could I?”
Spider-Man suddenly found himself able to will the costume to restore his size. Then he picked up her telephone, called the police and gave them the address, which he found typed on a bill addressed to a Felicia Hardy sitting on the table.
“You stay there, web slinger. You’re wanted too, whatever Captain Stacy thinks,” said the officer.
“I know I’m wanted, but let’s face it, officer: the Black Cat’s really not my type,” said Spider-Man, “Enjoy the arrest. I’ve got to swing.”
Spider-Man hung up and swung out of the building and back to the alley. His backpack was still webbed to a high wall where he’d left it, where nobody could get at it. He resumed his Peter Parker appearance and went home to do his homework.