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No. 15
Until late July, he had been meticulous. Until the twenty third, he had been flawless. Until that Tuesday, he had been invincible. He might have been in respawn before and he was gaining a gradually increasing number of scars and wounds but one fact kept his ego as inflated and healthy as it was: it had never been his fault. The first time had been a bit of a shock; Scout had accidentally drawn attention to the both of them while they were trying to steal the intelligence from BLU’s base. It had taken four cigarettes until his hands stopped shaking. If he was ever in respawn, it was always because of someone else. They either talked to him while he was cloaked, healed him while he was disguised, refused to even pull their weapons on him when he was masquerading as a BLU during an attack. They didn’t know how to act around working Spies and he always ended up suffering for it.

So he preferred to work in silence, in solitude. Working alone ensured that he wouldn’t wake up in the muted light of the respawn room, after all. He had never been much of a team player and although he wasn’t really enthusiastic about team meetings, he always tried to contribute his findings to the group. It always felt as if they were humouring him, as if he wasn’t actually telling them anything of vague importance or relevance. Even though he had made an effort to connect with them, he’d yet to see any proper results. Medic would treat him and Sniper would occasionally bum a cigarette off of him or pass him the dairy creamers from his side of the table but it didn’t feel as if anything was changing for the better. It was frustrating and eventually, if he had the choice to do recon work or to spend time with his new team, he would already be cloaked and halfway across the bridge separating the two bases by the time before the question was even finished. You see, Spy had a system. He spent more time observing than he did acting because, if there was one thing that he knew by heart, it was that an action took eight times before it became a habit. As far as Spy was concerned, there was no such thing as being burdened by knowledge. Knowledge lifted you up from the plains of ignorance, aided you when you were at a loss for things to do, left you with comforting concepts and ideas to mull over before you fell asleep at night. It was his rule of thumb to memorise every pattern that he could possibly pick up on so that he could move freely through the enemy’s base.

This was supposed to be Soldier’s ninth time.

He would march out of the locker room with his weapon propped up on one firm shoulder, check both ways and then stride down the hall with the purpose and efficiency that only a true military man could muster. He would turn left next to Demoman’s room, look in on whoever had been unfortunate enough to end up in Medic’s makeshift clinic and berate them for a few minutes before moving on. Then Soldier would do a quick walk around the perimeter and finally head back to his bedroom to glimpse through his few worn but well-loved (and suspiciously stained) army surplus magazines.

When Spy had been offered the job about a month and a half ago, he hadn’t hesitated in the slightest to take it. He only learned that the last Spy had been traitorous and had turned to the BLU team for easier access to the enemy’s Sniper once he had arrived and even though it wouldn’t have affected his choice, that little fact only served to make things more difficult for the European. Although they were completely separate people, the new recruit couldn’t help but feel that his teammates were keeping a safe distance from him because of his predecessor’s betrayal. Fixing his balaclava so that it fit snugly over his face, he waited just outside the door to the locker room for those familiar, heavy footsteps.

Spy was quite sure that the last eight times hadn’t involved a shovel slamming against the back of his head. He fell like a bag of cement and was unconscious before he even hit the floor. Soldier was standing behind his crumpled body with a smug grin on his lips and, as he lifted the rim of his helmet to swipe a large hand across his nose, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

------------------------------------

When Spy finally came to, all he could see was the tacky tile floor that his face was pressed against and a pair of dusty boots before him. As he lifted his head up to investigate his surroundings, one of the aforementioned boots planted itself directly across his shoulder blades, the pressure increasing as Spy’s body tried to knock the foot off of his back. It seemed impossible to catch his breath once it had been knocked out of him so Spy was left gasping for air on the linoleum.

“Today is a good day.”

Spy stopped struggling as he recognised the voice, connected it to the standard issue boots and prayed to whatever deity that he hadn’t offended yet that it wasn’t Soldier. The boot stopped pressing into Spy’s spine and, with an enthusiastic kick, forced the Frenchman to roll over on his back.

This was bad. He had been blown to pieces before but he had never been captured. Although he had been drilled on how to resist torture, he had never gone through it himself and he was understandably nervous about what would probably be his first (but unfortunately not the last) experience with it.

Soldier was standing with his shovel propped up on one shoulder, staring down at him with an interesting cocktail of emotions. On one hand, he was livid that Spy would even try to sneak up on him and send him to respawn- on the other, he was delighted to finally have the little coward right where he wanted him. The tables had turned and he knew that Spy could sense it.

Although all Spy could see was the ceiling, he knew that it wasn’t Soldier’s room. Soldier had ancient pinups taped to his ceiling- probably from when he was ‘serving’ in WWII. When he tried to turn his head to look around a little more, he wasn’t surprised to find that his head and neck ached. He’d probably been pulled here by the back of his suit, if anything. His mask was still on- that was a small comfort- but he had lost his shoes somehow. His cigarette case was nestled close to his chest but he couldn’t move his hands. That wasn’t surprising either- Soldier wasn’t as stupid as he hoped.

“Finally slipped up, you yellow-bellied little toad? I knew you would fuck up eventually and play into our hands. You can hide under your mother’s apron all you want but when you’re stared down by a real man, I sure as hell know that you’re gonna piss yourself like the coward you are.”

Soldier stooped down next to him, running a rough finger along his hidden jaw line and not caring as his thumb pulled the balaclava off-kilter. Spy glared at him as if that alone could free him. What was this stupid American playing at? His actions were never this slow and deliberate during fights. Crouching down next to the RED spy, his hand moved down to jerk his captive’s wrists up and into the light before he spoke again, his voice sounding in that characteristically loud rumble that always grated on Spy’s nerves.

“Do you know how many times these handcuffs have kept REDs in line, faggot?”

Spy didn’t really care enough to say anything. It was bad enough that he’d been caught, the last thing he wanted to do was inflate his enemy’s ego by guessing too many or irritate him off by not guessing enough. He had been taught better than that.

“Forty-six other cocksuckers have worn this pair of handcuffs. You’re lucky number forty-seven. How does that make you feel, Toad?”

He pressed the inside of the cuff against Spy’s wrist and the Frenchman could feel the sharp little ridges that Soldier must have cut into the metal with a nail file. “Warm and fuzzy inside,” Spy drawled, wondering if Soldier was planning on doing anything anytime soon. Even if he left him here to either starve or die of boredom, he would still end up in the respawn room eventually. He almost wanted him to do something. Just beat him to death or shoot him until he was only a pile of giblets in a pool of blood as red as his mask. Being caught was embarrassing and watching Soldier try to get a rise out of him and fail just barely cancelled out the humiliation of being flat on his back on the floor in the BLU base, blindly waiting for something to happen.

Soldier, upon realising that Spy wasn’t about to be intimidated, decided to try a different tactic. Catching Spy’s eye, his hand travelled down and undid the button to his trousers.

He certainly had the RED’s attention now.

“What are you doing?” Spy asked, trying to pretend that he wasn’t shaken as Soldier fumbled with his fly and pulled his cock out of his briefs. As soon as one of Soldier’s hands moved down to stroke along the length, the Frenchman averted his eyes to the ceiling. This was repulsive and god, training camp never taught him how to deal with this sort of situation! Couldn’t Soldier just whip out his real shovel and bludgeon him to death?

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll follow my orders, maggot.”

Spy could feel something warm pressing against his balaclava and the faint smell of precome distracted him from his intense staring contest with the ceiling. He couldn’t help but wince. Soldier was shifting and he could feel the head of the other man’s cock slowly travelling upwards to nudge at his lips. A very light trail of cloudy liquid followed the movement as Soldier gave an impatient grunt.

“You will take it in your mouth and suck it or I will give you something to really grimace about, Private Twinkletoes!” Soldier extended a hand to roughly squeeze Spy’s nose shut, cutting off his air supply. Glaring daggers at the BLU, Spy held out for as long as he could before he was forced to open his mouth and take in big gulps of air. At the earliest given opportunity, Soldier shoved his dick into the Frenchman’s mouth and warned him that biting would not be tolerated in a low, dangerous voice. Still reeling from having to hold his breath, Spy tried to breathe around the BLU’s cock until he felt a heavy hand on the back of his head, forcing him to take even more of Soldier into his mouth. Gagging softly (but not making a show of it like he wanted to), Spy gave Soldier a miserable glare before slowly starting to suck as he was directed, his lips slowly sliding along his enemy’s erection. He was sure that he was going to be sick- Soldier tasted salty and sweaty and although Spy had been on the receiving end of plenty of blowjobs from other people, he had never been put in this position before. Sloppily lathing this tongue around the head as the BLU’s stubby fingernails started to scrabble for the edge of his balaclava, Spy found himself working to keep Soldier from wanting to see his face, from identifying him. He could faintly remember what that little tart in Lyon had tried on him so many months ago and, hoping that he could mirror what she had done, he wrinkled his nose and pulled his head back just far enough so that his tongue could slip over the slit of Soldier’s erection. Although Soldier’s grip on his balaclava initially tightened, he quickly wised up to what Spy was trying to do and let out a muffled groan of approval.

“You’re taking to sucking cock like a pro,” he commented, getting tired of that tongue teasing his slit and forcing Spy to take in more of his penis. He wanted something more substantial. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, you little toad. I bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose.” He didn’t really mind if the European choked on his cock (and that prospect was looking increasingly likely as Soldier knotted his hand into Spy’s balaclava and stretched out the fabric, pulling his hair as he guided the RED’s mouth up and down his cock). If anything, that would be an added bonus.

As Soldier rambled and gave him a steady stream of elaborate insults, only occasionally punctuating his vulgar sentences with a moan or his breath hitching, Spy found himself fantasising about digging his teeth into his enemy’s cock, ripping it away from Soldier’s crotch and spitting what was left of his penis onto his writhing body. Then he’d really have something to over-compensate for. The hand that wasn’t busy trying to ram his cock down Spy’s throat moved to clumsily grip the base and jerk along with his movements. Soldier’s knuckle kept bashing against Spy’s nose and even though he made a muffled complaint, Soldier kept it up.

“Never got anything this big with the REDs, did you?” he asked, ignoring how Spy squirmed and grunted, trying to worm away from his ‘guiding hand’ and the increasingly violent blows to his face. “Little slut, open your worthless mouth wider.”

Spy had never considered Soldier to be the type of person that could do two things at once, like patting his head and rubbing his belly at the same time. However, Soldier seemed to be quite adept at forcing Spy’s mouth along his cock while beating away at both his erection and Spy’s nose. As he could feel parts of his face going numb and an interesting coppery taste adding itself to the unpleasant flavour of Soldier’s penis, Spy wondered if he actually had bit down into Soldier like he’d been contemplating only a few moments beforehand. The pleased groans (mostly incoherent save for the occasional “maggot”) dismissed this theory and... was Soldier’s cock throbbing in his mouth? Fed up with jerking himself off, the BLU took both of his hands and forced Spy’s head down as far as it would go as his hips pistoned back and forth into the European’s mouth. It felt like forever until Soldier’s hips stilled, his muscles tensed and he shot three, four, five thick streams of come into the back of Spy’s throat. Choking on both the viscous, bitter liquid and Soldier’s length, Spy spluttered, gagged and gasped as he made an effort to keep himself from retching right then and there. He couldn’t bring himself to swallow but the weight of Soldier’s shovel on the back his neck forced him to do as he was directed. When the BLU finally pulled out, he took care to wipe his come and the blood from his enemy’s nosebleed off on Spy’s balaclava, mockingly praising him for being such a good little cocksucker and maybe he was useful after all. Before he could even register the gory details of what he had just swallowed, Soldier was tucking himself back in and zipping himself back up, heading back out to do... whatever Soldiers did, leaving Spy alone to come to the only reasonable conclusion there was: if he wasn’t dead yet, Soldier was planning on coming back. As soon as the door clicked and the lights flickered off, Spy forced himself into a kneeling position and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the gaudy linoleum floor.

------

Massive kudos to my beta, Impish. She really helped me pull everything together and make it sound more plausible.
Two more parts to go!
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 16
The floor was cold. After some investigation, Spy had found a wall to lean against, away from the puddle of sick in the middle of the room and the acrid smell of bile, sweat and misery. He was dying for a cigarette to cancel out the ghost feeling of Soldier’s cock sliding between his lips but he didn’t have a light- Soldier had definitely taken it but thought nothing of his RED issued cigarette case. He probably didn’t know much about Spies to think that leaving him alone with his disguise kit was a good idea- either that or he left it to taunt him. What was the point in disguising himself when Soldier would know that the only person in the basement was Spy? Plus, an attempt to disguise himself as a BLU would only be met with confiscation of his cigarette case and, with that, his beloved cigarettes.

There weren’t any chairs, the door swung outwards according to the lack of hinges and there was something- probably a bookcase- barricading the door, trapping Spy inside. Wishing that this Soldier was as meat headed as Soldiers generally tended to be, Spy had to give up on trying to ram down the door and on searching for a light switch. Eventually, he huddled in the corner of the room that was furthest from the door, feeling distinctly sorry for himself. Even though he couldn’t light it, Spy held one of his cigarettes loosely and rolled it between his fingers, the metal case warming up between his knees. He yearned for a familiar face as his hands wandered to toy with the clasp of his disguise kit: Medic’s weary smile, Heavy’s childish grin, Engineer’s soft, reassuring voice. But, he realised with a jolt, while he had seen them many times before, none of those things had ever been directed at him. Would they ever be? Spy struggled to find a comfortable position on the floor as he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care if they missed him or not, never mind if they even noticed that he’d gone. That’s just how Spies work, they would say. You can’t trust them to keep to a schedule like the rest of us. You couldn’t expect them to be part of the team.

Spy heard Soldier coming before he moved the bookcase, unlocked the door and switched the light back on. Although he knew better than to potentially antagonise his enemy, Spy acknowledged the BLU’s presence with a look of utter contempt. Soldier didn’t seem ruffled in the slightest as he leaned his shovel against the tiny staircase and his shotgun in a similar fashion. He didn’t even have the time to contemplate lunging for either of Soldier’s discarded weapons before Soldier leaned forward, grabbed a handful of his balaclava and, subsequently, hair, dragging him out of the corner and into the light.

“Maggot didn’t like his meal, I take it?”

Spy’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he was forced to look at what had been in his stomach about five hours beforehand. Soldier repeated himself as if he hadn’t been loud enough the first time around and the European nodded- he hated being guided around and he had a horrible feeling that Soldier was thinking about rubbing his nose in it like one would rub a dog’s nose in his own shit.

“This is War! If I am kind enough to give you rations, you are to eat them, you filthy little ingrate!”

Spy’s scalp was starting to ache and he was nearly grateful when Soldier dropped him to the ground and he landed painfully on his shoulder about four feet away from the pool of vomit. Rolling onto his back, Spy was lucky enough to look up just as Soldier unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers and kicked off his boots before working on his shirt and the ammunition belt wrapped around his chest. “Looks like I need to teach you a lesson about respect.”

The European opened his mouth to retort but no words came out as Soldier tossed his shirt aside and stepped out of his trousers. Spy could feel his stomach dropping as his eyes were inevitably drawn to the bulge in his enemy’s briefs. “And you call me ze faggot?” he mumbled under his breath, just barely keeping himself from flinching as Soldier’s bare foot slammed into his stomach, knocking the breath clean out of him.

“You do not seem to understand that you are less than the dirt under my boots to me! At least dirt has a definable purpose! I am a high ranking official and you are a worthless maggot that doesn’t even know how to keep from getting caught!”

That stung a little and Spy glowered up at him as he tried to catch his breath. When he next looked up from the linoleum patterns on the floor, Soldier’s briefs were in a pile with the rest of his clothing, his dogtags jangling softly against his bare chest. Although the military man wasn’t entirely bulk and muscles, his chest, his arms, and his legs had obviously been subject to a severe training routine. Light blond hair covered a fair amount of his chest, thinning a little before leading down to his treasure trail. Tilting his helmet back so that he could peer down at Spy, Soldier squatted next to him, just as he’d done before, and started to roughly manhandle the European- perhaps to get another reaction. Ignoring the fluent stream of protests (and probably insults, if the tone was anything to go by) in French, Soldier practically ripped off his enemy’s pants despite Spy’s kicking and cursing. Soldier quieted him by shoving three fingers into Spy’s mouth, ignoring how the RED’s teeth tried to bite down on them instinctively.

“Don’t have any of that sissy lube bullshit on me. Suck or be fucked dry, toad.”

Spy had never noticed how massive Soldier’s fingers were until three of them were practically rammed down his throat. Choking a little on Solder’s hands before starting to roll his tongue around the other man’s fingers (certainly not because he wanted to be fucked but because he knew it would happen regardless of his level of participation), Spy tried to keep his mind off of exactly where they were going to be in a matter of minutes. It didn’t take long for Soldier to get fed up with the RED Spy’s efforts to make this easier on himself so he pulled them out and used his spare hand to roll his captive onto his stomach and to urge him up onto his hands and knees. Spy tried his best not to shake, to take it like a man, to be absolutely stone-cold silent as Soldier did what he wanted to do...

Then Soldier nudged Spy’s legs further apart and forced one probing finger into his body.

Spy’s elbows buckled and he bit down hard on his tongue as his body tried to resist, tried to tighten up and refuse access. He was breathing in rough, unsteady gasps and Soldier seemed to be satisfied with this reaction- especially when a pained moan left him.

“Spies don’t deserve lubrication,” he hissed, slamming his finger into the RED’s body as he tried to recover from the initial pain of entry, “I think Spies are already slippery enough, don’t you agree? Catching an experienced Spy is like tryin’ to hold sand in your bare hands but here you are, with me, in the basement, about to be fucked raw.”

Soldier almost made it sound as if he was there of his own free will- as if he had wanted to be captured! An indignant growl involuntarily forced itself from him and he could tell that Soldier delighted in the little noise. He sped up. “You think you’re so fucking civilised with your cigarettes and your pinstriped suit- well, how civil is it to be finger fucked on the floor, moaning like a woman?”

Spy made an angry little noise in the back of his throat before one of Soldier’s fingernails dragged against his prostate, making his back arch and his breath hitch. The finger seemed to thrust in and out of his body even faster than before, as if to spite him.

“Well, faggot?”

Spy shook his head but Soldier ignored him, barking a “Sound off like you’ve got a pair!” as he buried his index finger in to the knuckle.

“It- It isn’t!” It was a struggle to speak in English and a few curses in his native tongue spilled from him immediately thereafter, as if to make up for the sheer effort. He wanted it to stop; oh god, he would do anything for it to stop. Soldier knew it too and he leaned forward, his hips brushing against the curve of Spy’s ass and his thick erection resting against his skin as he rolled up the hem of Spy’s balaclava, biting down on his exposed neck. “That’s what I can’t stand about your sorry ass, toad,” he could feel Soldier’s breath against his skin and he shifted uncomfortably underneath him, trying to look back to watch what he was doing, as if knowing what was coming next would somehow empower him like he used to think it would. “You and your fucking country always depend on someone else to do the real fighting for you when shit gets tough and you go smoke in the corner like a pussy! You don’t deserve to be in this War, cock muncher!”

By the time Soldier decided to add an extra finger, Spy’s lower lip was bleeding and the spit that Soldier was using for lube had mostly dried up. It hadn’t really made a difference after all, he thought wryly, sharp tendrils of pain breaking his concentration every few seconds, it had been an effort to humiliate him further, to degrade him in front of his enemy. He wanted to spit out the blood that was collecting in his mouth from biting his lip but he didn’t want to draw further attention to himself or to lengthen the process. Soldier started scissoring his fingers roughly and Spy swallowed, the bitter taste of dirty money reminding him of the dried blood on his balaclava and what a mess he was. How much longer would it be before Soldier took pity upon him and slammed his shovel against the back of his head? All he could really do about it was wait and see. Back arching at an awkward angle as Soldier rediscovered his prostate, he had to struggle to keep himself from collapsing as his fingers scrabbled against the linoleum. His pained grunts turned into gasps of relief as he finally felt the BLU pulling his hand away and wiping his fingers off on Spy’s bared thigh. Turning his head back to watch his assailant, his moment of reprieve was shattered when he saw Soldier spitting into the palm of his hand and then rubbing himself, slicking his cock up.

The head of Soldier’s erection felt even thicker when it was pressed against his entrance. “Tante”, Spy hissed venomously, steeling himself as the older man slapped the flat of his hand against the RED’s ass and buried himself about halfway into his body. The pain was unrelenting and Spy’s elbows finally buckled and gave out on him, his chin slamming against the floor as Soldier moaned coarsely.

“You could crack a fuckin’ walnut in here,” he marvelled, smacking Spy’s ass again and enjoying how the RED’s muscles instinctively clenched around his dick, “Maggot, I want to hear you screaming for me and screaming for mercy, like you French bastards always do!”

Spy felt lightheaded and he wasn’t sure if he was really screaming or if it was someone else. He wanted to throw up, he wanted an entire pack of cigarettes to calm his frayed nerves, he wanted to be anywhere but in the BLU base at Soldier’s mercy. His throat was sore, his mouth was bone-dry and when the screaming stopped, all he could hear was the perverse slap of skin against skin, Soldier’s rough groans of pleasure and the horrible wet sound of his blood lubricating his enemy’s cock. Spy had stopped twisting and jerking on the floor like a dying animal and his balaclava rode up slightly as his cheek grated against the linoleum tiles with every thrust. The rhythm was unbearable and his attempts to distract himself by mentally guiding himself through the RED base were feeble and fragmented. Soldier had discovered that slapping Spy’s ass mid-thrust would make his muscles tense and tighter and, as far as he was concerned, the strangled cries of pain were a bonus. Spy was mumbling incoherently into his balaclava, which had ridden up to cover his mouth. His cloth-stifled words, mostly in French, were regularly punctuated with groans and curses, moans and half-assed pleas for Soldier to just finish, to just kill him, to just leave.

It took several minutes for Soldier to register that Spy’s broken attempts at English were directed at him and a hoarse laugh rumbled from his chest. “I’ll take as long as I damn please, faggot,” he grunted, keeping his pace despite a stitch in his side and the slight pain of his knees grinding against the floor as he thrust. “But if you ask me real nicely, I might just give you a reach-around.”

He could feel Spy shudder in revulsion around him and he sped up substantially, pounding in and out of the European’s prone body. Heat was pooling in his groin and he could feel himself gradually drawing to a close. Soldier couldn’t even bother to push his helmet back so that he could see; his quick movements forced the brim of his helmet to bounce against his nose constantly and the leather straps swayed in time with his hips. It took another two or three minutes of frantic thrusts and rough grunts before he finally shoved himself balls-deep into Spy’s ass and came, spilling into the European’s body and ignoring how he twitched and writhed underneath him. For a few moments, Spy's brain was incapable of any coherent thoughts, only bursts of outrage, shame and disbelief. Jolting as Soldier smacked the raw skin on his ass with the flat of his hand, Spy released a garbled groan of pain as the crude American slowly pulled his cock out of the RED's ass and wiped himself off on the other man's bruised skin.

Almost as soon as Soldier let go of his hips, Spy slumped down on the floor, trying to catch his breath and make sense of what had just happened. If he wasn't convinced that Soldier would give him hell for even retching, nevermind throwing up again, he would have done so in a heartbeat. He felt disgusting and thoroughly used- as if he was less of a man because he couldn't prevent something so stupid from happening in the first place. The faint sound of cloth rustling and thick fingers fumbling with a zipper were hardly distracting him from the sickeningly warm combination of blood and come sliding down his legs or how his stomach churned as Soldier cleaned himself up and left his enemy as a boneless mess on the floor.


----

Again, thanks go to Impish for helping me sift through my usual piles of utter shite for what I'm actually trying to get at. I owe her TONS of booze.
Also, Tante is used as an insult, sort of like 'queer', if my french friends are to be believed. It literally means 'aunt' but ... well, it's sort of obvious, I suppose.
I didn't mean for this to take so long but I already have a decent chunk of the third and final part finished.



REPOSTAN SO I CAN UPDATE LATER THIS WEEK. :D
>> No. 24
Thank you so much for reposting this here. I do adore this story and I can't wait for your update. Just to reiterate my views, I love your characterisations. You actually make the Soldier less 2D for me, well done!
>> No. 33
OH MAI IS DAT SUM UPDATE RUMORS I HEAR oAo
>> No. 352
I post here to say how utterly excited I am about a possible update in the future. Love this fic.
>> No. 353
THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME
>> No. 549
Please oh please update this, i can't waiiiiit!
>> No. 619
Please update this, you won't believe how frequently I f5 this page.
>> No. 706
OKAY, here's the deal.

I had about 75% of this done and then my laptop started shitting out on me. It's a hard-drive issue. Unless I can dig up the bit of the chapter that I gave to Impish and then try to remember what I added to it so I can add it from my dad's girlfriend's computer, it's going to be a week or two, depending on how long my laptop is in the shop. :/ Sorry about this, guys. Didn't mean to get your hopes up and then fail at delivering.
>> No. 711
>>9
I forgive you, it's worth the wait.
>> No. 712
>>9

Aw, that sucks...

Hope your laptop gets better!
>> No. 1730
>>9
:(
>> No. 1736
HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT MY LAPTOP IS STILL FUCKED UP AND STILL IN THE SHOP.

I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE A LAME EXCUSE BUT, REGARDLESS, I DON'T HAVE MY LAPPY BACK. DO FORGIVE ME.
>> No. 1737
Lame excuse is Lame. WRITE MOAR NAO!
>> No. 1741
Lame excuse is not lame for I feel your pain goddammit (so much work lost to fucking crashed comps...)!! Moar when computers stop hating you, and plz plz plz let that be soon.
>> No. 1745
Im just glad to hear your still working, I haven't lost faith in you.
>> No. 1746
This is amazing.
>> No. 1749
>>14
Ever used Best Buy to fix your computer where they have to send it off, then send off for a part, then 'fix other things' that they refuse to tell you about because it's 'out of our hands'?
No?
Then shush. Trust me, I'd rather have my laptop too and if they take off my stickers, I'm going to rage wholeheartedly at them.

HOWEVER, since the next part isn't going to have porn in it (as it is the concluding part), I might write something from the kink meme in the meantime and then toss it out here around the same time. We'll see. You guys have been pretty goddamn patient and I want to thank you SOMEHOW.
>> No. 1794
>>18

That is a wonderful idea! As much as I'd be happy seeing the conclusion of the fic, I wanna read more of your stuff, so yay for your idea! (And yay us readers for being patient too...?)
>> No. 5896
Do me a favore
call the police.
address: 27802 Abadejo, Mission Viejo, CA 92692
tell them to go down the hall to the bathrooom.
Im soo tired of waiting for this story to update<3
>> No. 5905
>>20
I have no idea what that's meant to mean (maybe because I am overworked and exhausted. Procrastination kills Californians? Uh, alright.) but here's a bit of an update on my situation.

I never got my laptop back because Best Buy is OF THE FUCKING DEVIL but I sort of finished the ending anyway. However, the ending does not actually have porn in it, so I'm occasionally writing something from the kink meme that DOES have porn in it so that my eventual update doesn't feel like a waste of everyone's time (which it is, but okay).

I would normally let the additional porn be a surprise, but fuck it. It's been too long and I've been a bit of a dick as far as updates go.
I'm basically writing a Sniper/Demoman on the subject of 'improper use of grenades'. Of course, it seems to keep with my current trend of non-con misery (because sappy shit can be boring sometimes).

It WILL happen, I'm just unbelievably busy. Faith, trust and semen, anyone?
>> No. 5906
>>20
I know that *chans are not a place for feelings, but god fucking damn it, I knew Josh Ballard personally and this still hurts. He may have been whiny sometimes, but shit, man. Shit.
>> No. 5907
>>22
I feel as though I've missed something here. :|
>> No. 5908
>>23
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=josh%20ballard

His death became a joke to the internet.
>> No. 5909
ALSO, I'm really sorry for depressing up your thread. I really love your fic; I totally didn't come in with the intention of derailing this, urgh.
>> No. 5910
>>25
S'Okay. It was a tasteless thing if them to do. I'm glad you called them on it.
>> No. 5924
>>24
>>25

Yeah, I can understand why you would want to call them on that. If I were in your position, I would have done the same thing. Don't worry about it.
>> No. 5927
Ah, I can't believe you took your computer to best buy...you'd be much better off with a trustworthy private repairist, warranty or not.

In any case, I'm enjoying this, as twisted as it is. I like Spys personality-
>> No. 6070
>>22
>>25
LULZ Hugbox for 2 please.


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