[Author's note: it's het, but I'm TeratoMarty. Trust me and read it].
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You were the youngest, smallest slightest Medic in Team BLU, but you could run miles over broken ground carrying a Medigun and a full pack, and that was all that mattered. You'd ensured that nothing else mattered by bribing the doctor who was supposed to have given you your physical. No need to wreck your career by taking off your clothing. If the other Medics found out... the thought made your blood run cold. Who knew what those sadistic Nazi bastards would do if they knew your secret.

You were assigned to 2Fort, and went over the maps with the Soldier, trying to memorise the territory before your first battle. The man was obviously insane, but impressed by your dedication. It was refreshing, a huge relief, to be so unquestioningly accepted. Even by a man who was so far round the twist he could be used as a corkscrew.

That night in the mess hall, the guys chewed loudly, burped, threw food and argued. It was just like dinnertime with your brothers, which made you both comfortable and homesick at the same time. It turned out that the Scout came from a large family, too, so you had plenty to talk about. You just had to remember not to mention certain little details.

The next day brought your first real battle. You'd done endless war-gaming, and you knew that getting killed would just land you in respawn, but... how could you be sure? You'd heard of respawn failures, people who just stayed dead... or who came back all wrong- Enough of that. Into battle, like a real man. Just like you practised.

The Heavy was a veteran and frequently boomed forth advice in such a cheerful way that you couldn't even resent his presumption that you were ignorant. Which you were. With the Heavy's guidance, you managed to survive almost until the cease-fire. Heal Heavy, heal Soldier, uber Pyro, heal Heavy, over and over, and you never even saw what hit you. Just a flash of red, momentarily blinding you in one eye, and then- nothing.

Floating blackness. In terror, you realised that you had died. Nothingness, no body, no feeling, just yourself and the endless void. You wondered if this was Eternity- and then you were standing in the respawn, looking at your hands with such joy as you'd never felt before.

Your elation was short-lived, though, as the Soldier appeared and began calling you a maggot and a disgrace to the force and the sorriest excuse for a Medic he'd ever seen. Dear G-d, but you didn't want to burst into tears now, in front of the Soldier and the rest of the team and especially Heavy. Heavy began to laugh. For one horrible moment, you thought he was laughing at you. Then, he said, "Leetle man just angry from killed in ding-dong with baseball bat. I bet is turn inside out, leetle man is leetle wooman now!" The rest of the team enjoyed a hearty chuckle at the Soldier's expense, and you even managed a weak laugh, though your heart wasn't in it.

"Come eat, Medic," the Heavy clapped you on the shoulder. "You so leetle, need eat more."

In battle, you and the Heavy became inseparable. With you standing behind him and ubering him, he was a human juggernaut; with him in front of you, you were safe. Even when you strayed, he would show up in the nick of time, soaking up bullets meant for you without apparent ill effect. On the field or off, he was always ready with a broad grin and an encouraging word of broken English.

Spending time with him, you discovered that he wasn't stupid- no, he wasn't a secret genius, but he had horse sense. And it was hard not to like a man who had grown up in such Soviet deprivation that he considered a baloney sandwich a gourmet treat. You couldn't wait to feed him bierschenken or weisswurst or the other delicacies of your hometown. It was then that you realised that you were out-and-out planning a life with him beyond this life of endless war.

This was foremost in your mind the next time you and he were alone together. It was sweltering inside 2Fort, but there was a cool breeze coming in off the desert, so you and Heavy had climbed into the battlements to enjoy the air.

"See?" The Heavy pointed skyward. "Big bear, behind him, leetle bear. Big bear is big, da? But leetle bear more important. Leetle bear has hub of world." The huge man fell silent, but his squinty little eyes said volumes more.

"Oh, Heavy," you murmured. "We are those bears."

He stroked your smooth cheek with one huge finger. "We make bouncy now, da?"

"Oh, ja!" You threw yourself into his arms, kissing feverishly. You regularly trusted him with your life; you were sure that you could trust him with your secret. Once the floodgates of passion were open, nothing could stop you. Heavy's huge fingers were surprisingly nimble, and by the bright light of the full moon he stripped you bare in moments.

"Oh, Medic!" he gasped, looking at your naked body. "I never thought... you are... Jewish?"

"Er, ja. Please, liebling, tell me zis is not a problem."

"No, no," the Heavy kissed you, his stubble rasping against your face. "Mama always want me to marry nice boy from the shtetl, Doktor is credit to the Jews!"

"You're Jewish, alzo?" You mentally replayed the last few seconds of the conversation. "Und a voman?"

"Da. In my village, all wooman kind of..." she put one meaty hand on what would have been the back of her neck, if she had a neck.

"Healthy?" you offered. "Zaftig? Beautiful?"

"Oh, Doktor," she murmured, embracing you. "I have... one more confession. I never do this thing before."

"Oh, mein darling, mein treasure, a wirgin?"

"Da, be gentle."

"Trust me," you said. "I am a doctor."

Your Heavy girlfriend tittered and leanted back, allowing you to caress the titanic breasts she'd had hidden under her vest, her expansive belly and mighty thighs. Under all the hair, her skin was amazingly soft as you kissed your way toward her navel, and even her bush was downy as you went lower. To your delight, her clit was an unmistakable target, almost as big as the end of your thumb. She moaned like a mating whale as you caressed it with lips and tongue, and bucked into your hand as you searched for her entrance.

With some groping, you found it- her hymen was tough and resilient, and had only the smallest of holes. You stretched her first with one finger, then two, as you gave her your all in oral gratification. Her tree-trunk thighs wrapped around your head, and for a moment you feared you might smother, or possibly drown, until she let out a scream that knocked roosting birds out of the rafters. She collapsed limply, but you didn't give her a moment to rest from either fingers or tongue. You brought her to orgasm again and again, seven times, until she was all but exhausted and you couldn't wait any more.

"Darling, please," you said, looking tenderly into her eyes. "May I cap you?"

"Oh, da!" she gasped. "I love this Doktor!"

"And I love you, mein Heavy," you say as you slide inside your Russian giantess. She was hot and slippery with pleasure, but you moved carefully so as not to hurt her still-taut hymen. After that first barrier, she surrounded you with ridge after ripple of responsive muscle. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you battened onto her enormous tits with both hands and probed her mouth with a kiss. You thrust slowly at first, per her passion built with her own, and soon she was bucking like a rodeo bull and pulling you close with her large legs. She clamped her thighs around you and groaned out her eighth orgasm of the day even as you failed to squirm away and came inside her.

"Ach, liebling," you groaned as you collapsed beside her and stroked her stubble. "Did I hurt you?"

"Is fine. I am strong!" She thumped her chest proudly.

"I... meant to pull out," you apologise.

"Da, but I want MANY leetle babies!" she smiled.