This is the TF2 fanfiction I was writing as a gift for ~Zechira as well as for my own pleasure. It basically sets up the events for why RED Medic is sacrificing himself for BLU Scout in my picture: [link]
It's over 30,000 words.
I'd say it's generally clean save for some language (thanks to Scout) and violence. There's no sexual content or extreme gore/swearing. The only "pairing" in this is canon, and it's Spy/Scout's Mom, and it's hardly explored at all.
If you'd rather read it on FF.Net you can go here: [link]
A few credits/notes/jimjams:
1. The names of Scout's brothers are inspired from the unassociated fanfiction "Why Rainbows Make Me Cry". 2. I may write a sequel to this in the near future as people have enjoyed it, and I have ideas for a continuation. 3. This story is a collaboration/culmination of the ideas and headcanons that me and my room mate ~Zechira both have. She may be working on a fanfiction that uses these shared character ideas as well, so if you like this story, be sure to watch her for more Friedrich and Punkin!
"I can't believe your plan worked," Scout said to the RED Spy as the suave man exited the shower room, smelling fresh and in a clean red suit. "The BLU Scout was really pissed about it."
"Was there really any doubt?" the Spy snorted, pausing at the door as the Scout walked up to his own locker.
"Guess not. At least we won," Scout admitted. The Frenchman did a light bow before leaving the shower room.
"We were lucky!" the Medic chirped as he removed his rubber gloves, hoping to shower himself.
"Dah!" the Heavy agreed. "We did good!"
The Sniper stood next to the Scout. He looked at the runner as he removed his vest.
"You gonna tell 'im?" he asked. Scout didn't say a word. "Y'know...'bout them voices?"
"It's not important," Scout whispered.
"If you don't, I will." Scout glared at the taller man.
"Don't you dare!" he hissed. Sniper only shook his head with a smile and continued undressing. Scout kept his eyes on the Sniper as he stripped off his red shirt. The Medic peeked over at the Sniper.
"Tell us vhat?" he questioned.
"NOTHING HAPPENED!" shouted the Scout. "S-Seriously, it ain't worth mentioning."
"Oh." The German doctor sounded disappointed. "Zhat's understandable."
Scout let out a relieved sigh and stripped off the rest of his clothes and quickly rushed to the nearest open shower stall. He turned on the shower head and let out a silent gasp as the hot water splashed over him. One little necessity he never missed: the opportunity to clean himself. The Sniper took the stall next to him as the Scout grabbed the only bar of soap and began washing his chest.
The Heavy and Medic weren't far behind as the last two open stalls were taken. The shower room was silent for a while, aside from the water that splashed onto the floor and the Heavy who immediately broke into song as soon as the water was turned on. Without soap, all the Sniper could do was massage the water on his skin, at least washing some of the sweat off of his body. Scout closed his eyes and let out a light hum as he continued to hog the soap.
"Mmm, not a bad view." Scout's eyes shot open as he glared at the Sniper.
"You f*ckin' pervert!" he shouted as he punched the man in the arm.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, mate?!" demanded the Sniper. He winced as the Scout threw another punch at him.
"I ain't your f*ckin' 'mate' either!!"
"Stop it! That hurts!"
The Heavy and Medic came to Sniper's rescue, the Heavy pulling the Scout away from the Sniper and the Medic acting like a human shield for the Sniper.
"What iz zhe matter, Herr Scout?" asked the Medic.
"Freakin' pervert was eyeballin' me!" the Scout hissed.
"No I wasn't!" protested the Australian.
"LIAR! I bet if you two weren't here he would've-"
"Scout," Medic interrupted. "Could it be zhat he was going to ask you for zhe soap?"
"Yeah, probably waiting for me to drop it so he could-"
"Scout!!" Defeated, Scout huffed angrily and looked at the Medic. "Rinse off, get dressed, and move on."
Heavy slowly released the Scout's arms as the Medic pushed the younger man into his stall and took over the Scout's original shower stall, hoping it would help avoid another fight. Sniper remained quiet, still a bit confused and worried at the same time. The Medic's expression during the whole time screamed 'shame on you, Scout'. Scout was still angry. He quickly rinsed off the remaining soap that was on his body and rushed for the nearest available towel. He wrapped the rather scratchy material around his waist and left the room, mumbling to himself.
"Vhat has gotten into zhat boy?" the Medic whispered to himself.
He stormed down the hallway and past the other classes who either making their way to their room or to the kitchen. A few raised an eyebrow at the Scout's choice of walking around the base with just a towel, but none questioned it. The Scout's glare alone said "It's none of your damn business".
It was hard to tell if he was angry or embarrassed. Mostly, it was anger. He trusted the Sniper, so why would the man suddenly invade his personal space like that? Sure, it was with his eyes, but still, that was harassment. When Scout reached his own room, he quickly opened the door and slammed it closed with all of his might as soon as he was in.
"HEY! Do you want to know how many men died to make that door, Maggot?! A LOT! So respect the door and respect those who died making it!" yelled the Soldier.
Scout said nothing. He only leaned against the door and sighed. All the pent up anger went into slamming the door. He didn't have any more anger to release.
"Thank you, Door," he whispered.
He looked down at his bare feet and realized the towel wrapped around his bony hips was the only thing keeping him from being completely naked. He pushed himself off of the door and walked across the room to his dresser to get some fresh clothes.
By the time Scout was out of his room, it was later in the night. His teammates were still up and enjoying what was left of dinner. It was meatloaf night, courtesy of the Engineer. Scout got a few skeptical glances from a few of the men in the room, except from the Demoman, who was passed out drunk on the table.
"Heard about yer fight with the Sniper," the Engineer started. Scout let out an annoyed groan. "Don' worry about it. Probably a misunderstanding. Ya hungry? I turned the leftover meatloaf into meatloaf sandwiches."
"Sandvitch!" the Heavy announced from across the room, holding up his food victoriously.
"Sure, that sounds good," the Scout shrugged as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of "Bonk!". The Texan handed the Scout a plate with a meatloaf sandwich that was cut down the middle into two equal slices and accompanied with a blob of mash potatoes topped off with gravy and a small spoonful of peas.
"Thanks for the heart attack on a plate, hardhat," Scout said as he walked out of the kitchen.
"Behave yourself now," Engineer said softly.
Since the table was occupied by a drunk Demoman, Scout walked into what would act as a living room for the RED team. It was a simple layout: soft faded carpet, a small television equipped with a VCR (it barely got any good reception), a torn leather couch and several fake Fichus plants that were perched in each corner of the room. On the north side of the room was a clear sliding door that had an observation deck which looked out towards the horizon near the BLU base. Several referred to the room as their "relaxation center" actually, the Soldier called it that, and he demanded that it was to be addressed as such.
The Pyro and Heavy already occupied the couch as the Soldier was wrestling with the television's antenna, hopefully trying to get a better reception than the white static they were already receiving from the TV itself.
"Find good sitcom channel," said the Heavy. "Laughter helps digest food better."
"Nuuu," The Pyro protested. "Mmph mphna mprhrn."
"News station is BORING!" the Heavy bellowed.
Scout looked around. He assumed the Spy was his room and the Medic in the medical bay. He was more concerned about the whereabouts of the Sniper. While he still felt a bit betrayed about what happened in the shower room, keeping a careful mind of where he was at was probably a good idea.
"Hey!" he started, eyeing the three men in the living room. "Where's the Sniper?"
"Infirmary," the Soldier answered almost immediately as he continued adjusting the antenna on the small TV. "Medic said something about...bruising on the man's arms." The Bostonian looked down at his plate, suddenly feeling slightly guilty. "Was it true what the Sniper did?"
"What?" Scout looked at the Soldier, who has stopped fiddling with the antenna and faced the young man. The Heavy let out a groggy gasp and jumped to his feet.
"Medic said not to talk about it!" he announced. "No more discussion!"
"Hmph! Whatever!" huffed the Soldier, returning to his attempt to fix the TV. "This is why I shower by myself," he whispered.
Part of Scout wanted to thank the Heavy for dropping the subject; the last thing he wanted on his mind before eating was being naked again and seeing the Sniper standing near him and staring at his body with eager eyes. Scout shivered at the thought, his eyes widening for a moment before snapping back to reality.
"Little Scout ok?" the Heavy asked.
"Yeah," he lied. "I'm fine."
At the moment, Scout realized he wanted to be alone. Since the Solider banned him from eating in his own room due to an unfortunate ant invasion, his only option was to eat out on the veranda. That didn't bother him; it'd be quiet and the Heavy wouldn't bother him with the usual "Is tiny Scout gonna eat that?" question.
Scout remained quiet as he moved across the room. The Soldier cursed out loud at he finally smacked the side of the television with his fist, the white static finally disappearing as a black and white picture show finally flickered on.
"There we go!" he announced proudly. "Now we're cookin'!"
"Is rerun." Heavy groaned.
The last thing the Scout heard before closing the glass door was the Soldier screaming loudly and chucking the little television across the room.
Scout sat down in the corner of the veranda, leaning against the wall near the glass door for support. He set his plate down by his side and picked up one piece of his sandwich and bit hungrily into it. The first bite made him realize he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Come to think of it, he didn't have breakfast! He was too eager for the RED team to earn another victory. He earned his money today.
It suddenly hit Scout that that much have been the reason to the voices he was hearing early that afternoon. Was it possible hunger made people hear voices? Why not? Heat and thirst made people see mirages. Maybe hunger worked in similar ways?
"Never making that mistake again," he thought to himself as he finished off the first piece of his sandwich, licking off the residue of the meat from his fingers.
He grabbed his can on "Bonk!" and opened it idly as his eyes strayed to the landscape that lay before him. It never occurred to him how much the battlefield of 2Fort was damaged from the day's fight. Craters formed in random areas, most likely from the Soldier's misaligned aiming with his missile launcher or any of the Demoman's bombs. Even the buildings themselves suffered from the damage of gunfire or a missed swing from a melee weapon. Scout didn't even want to know how much it was going to cost to repair the damage to the RED base. Then again, as long it wasn't from his own pocket, he could care less.
A cool wind blew against his skin as he took a small sip from his "Bonk!". Scout wasn't much for respecting vacant land he did grow up in the city after all. However, there was just something in the back of the Scout's mind that made him admit that if a battle never took place on 2Fort, the area would've been beautiful. Scout could feel himself smiling, and he let out an amused sigh.
"Yer going soft, man," he whispered to himself. "Loosin' yer badass image." He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and exhaling just as deeply.
"That meal you have looks quite good," a man's voice commented. "May I ...have a bite?" Scout let out an irritated groan. He knew who it was: the RED Spy.
"Get yer own damn food, Spy!" He turned his head to face his team mate. "This is " No one was there. " mine?" He looked around. "Dude? Are you, like, cloaked er somethin'?"
"Look down here, boy," commanded the voice.
"Shit, am I still hearing things?" He was hesitant at first, but his gaze scrolled down to his side where he had his plate set. He still didn't see anything; just his plate with the remaining half of his meatloaf sandwich and the untouched mash potatoes with the peas next to it. Of course, his attention then focused on the tiny little critter that stood across from the plate.
A small, round crab.
Scout had seen many crabs around 2Fort before. There was a nest of crabs in the canal. Every now and then, one would find its way on the field, ultimately being blasted to pieced by a bomb or stepped on by a BLU or RED class. This crab was different though. While the other crabs around 2fort were a healthy red color, this one was a sickly blue color all over. Scout noted how there were a few flesh colored patches on the front of the crab, almost like it was wearing a mask. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
"Hmm, where'd you come from little fella?" he asked the crab. He felt silly for even speaking to the crab, but it was the first question that popped into his head. "Little far from home, aren't ya?" The crab looked like it shrugged.
" I could say the same about you, boy," it replied.
"AH SHIT!!" The Scout jumped to his feet, dropping his "Bonk!" from his hands and sliding into the opposite corner of the deck. "WH-WH-WH-WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SHIT?! Y-YOU DID NOT JUST TALK TO ME! NO WAY!"
"Scout, please." The crab sounded calm, almost like it was expecting Scout to react the way he did. "Just...calm down now."
"Shit, you are talkin' to me!" Scout's eyes couldn't get any wider than they already were. "I..I must be dreamin'. Yeah, I'm totally dreaming."
"Would you like me to pinch you to find out?" The crab snapped his claws a few times with a rather smug smile on its face. "I would more than gladly lend you a hand with that."
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!" the young man screamed, reaching for his plate and throwing it at the crab. It missed and shattered against the wall.
"Boy! Please be reasonable here! Just take a few quick breaths and calm down," begged the crab. "I need to discuss something with you."
"SHUT UP! YER NOT REAL!"
The glass door flew open and the Soldier walked out onto the deck, glaring at the Scout in disbelief.
"What is going on here?!" he demanded. The Soldier glanced around, noting the Scout huddled in the corner of the railing while a small crab was perched near a pile of ceramic shards of a dinner plate with food scattered on the wooden floor and a few feet up the side of the wall as well. It was a very pathetic sight. "Do I even want to know?" The American's voice sounded slightly disappointed.
"That crab " Scout jerked his arm forward, pointing an accusing finger at the crab. " is f*ckin' talking to me, man!"
"Really now," scoffed the crab. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."
"Please tell me you just heard that!" Scout looked up at the Soldier with pleading eyes. Soldier said nothing. He turned his head to the Scout and then to the crab. He tapped his chin as if thinking hard about the whole situation.
"DUDE!" Scout's voice slightly cracked.
"Oh! I get it now!" Soldier let out a chuckle, turning his attention to the crab. "It spoke to you, eh?"
"Yeah!" He let out a relieved sigh, finally knowing someone was believing him.
"Yeah, yeah, I can totally see what you're talking about now." The Soldier nodded rapidly.
"Crab dinner!" announced the Soldier. Scout felt dead inside.
"It's PERFECT! Next month, we'll be capturing the control points instead of Inte!" rambled the Soldier. "When we get a perfect score for those, we're celebrating with a crab dinner!"
"Dude, that's not what I was ta-"
"You deserve a medal, Little Man!" The Soldier slapped Scout on the back before turning back into the base. "Engie! Construct a fishing mechanism! We're huntin' crabs next month!"
Scout didn't know how to react. He was surrounded by idiots! He stood still, almost on the brink of tears. No one was listening to him. Was this just a hallucination? Was the crab seriously there, but not talking? Its voice; was it in his head? Was he truly going crazy? But why?
"This is not happening," He hissed. The crab slowly tapped across the wooden floor up to Scout's shoe. It looked up at him with a calm expression.
"Your solider is no different than our own," it commented.
"'our own'?" Scout repeated.
"I suppose I can tell you now that you have calmed down." Scout didn't move. He remained still as he continued to breathe in through his mouth. "Long story short..." The crab cleared its throat...if...crabs had throats. "...I am the BLU Spy."
There was no answer. Scout kept his eyes on the small crab, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.
"No..." Scout whispered.
"It is hard to believe, yes, but I speak the truth to you, young RED," The Spy...Crab said. "I'm sure you have noticed my absence from the BLU team many times, oui?"
"No..." repeated the Scout, the tone of belief remained on the single word spoken.
"While I cannot tell how it happened, I am cursed," the crab continued, "and I am convinced you're the only right now who can help me. "
His hands were shaking. Scout was convinced the world around him was falling apart. Finally, he looked at the blue colored crab, still saying nothing.
" You...can hear me, oui?"
"The BLU Spy?" Scout swallowed hard.
"That's correct." A slight pause. Scout finally clenched his hands into fists.
"I don't believe you," he replied. The crab let out a minor grunt.
"What proof do you need, boy? I am here, aren't I?"
"STOP TALKING TO ME!" shouted the young man. "JUST SHUT UP!"
"Scout?" It was the Medic's voice that rang out. Scout immediately glared at the doctor who stood at the door way. "Vhat is wrong? Why are you yelling?"
"Why?!" Scout repeated, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Can't ya hear him?" Medic took a cautious step forward.
"Hear who?" Another laugh.
"Oh, you are gonna LOVE 'dis one, Medic." Scout shook his head. "Get this: The BLU Spy was turned into a crab and he's right here." He gestured towards the crab. The Medic looked at it and then back at the Scout. "And he says 'dat I'm da only one who could save him! Can you believe that?!"
"Zee crab told you zhis?"
"Weren't you listening?! God you suck at that! I told you the crab was- AUGH!!"
The Medic was fast, grabbing the Scout's arm with one hand and jabbing a syringe into his neck with another, injecting the fluid in one swift motion. Scout found it very hard to stand. His legs buckled underneath him as he fell into the Medic, his vision slowly becoming very blurry.
"I'm sorry, Herr Scout," the Medic said very softly as the Scout struggled to keep conscious. "Zhis is for your own good."
"I'm...not....crazy," Scout groaned before he fell into a deep, deep sleep.
It began snowing again. Eventually forming into a snowstorm that kept both sides cooped inside till it cleared up. The Scout took the opportunity to begin his research through the book of paranormal studies. He locked himself in his room and sat on his bed, silently reading through the book, cover to cover. The Spycrab could only watch, feeling a bit helpless due to his form. Desperately, he wished he could help the Scout in some way - or that he at least knew something that would help lift his own curse. That wasn't going to happen anytime soon, but at least he kept the new BLU Spy away from the RED Scout. That was really the only bright side he could find.
The next few days were clear weather, allowing the teams to battle again. Leaving the Spycrab to only watch the fight from the window. At the end of the day, the Scout would return, shower quickly, then resume reading the book - Almost like clockwork. The Scout eventually finished the book, only to start rereading it again as he began taking notes this time. The Spy noticed that they were all related to how he was cursed when he snuck a peek at the boy's notes. Every now and then the Scout would ask him questions about the day he was turned into a crab, quickly writing it down and return reading the book. Leaving the Spycrab alone...so very alone. It bothered him the most when he removed the bandage on his injured claw, to see it was fully healed- although there was a deep imprint on the surface that would surely be a scar if he were to become human again. The Scout was too busy to notice this.
While the new BLU Spy has yet to show up since it was discovered he too was a virgin, that didn't stop the other BLUs from sending the Scout to respawn. It was painful to the Spycrab to see the Scout run almost drunkenly across the field, having to stop to catch his breath, or even just running all together and falling onto the ground. Leaving him open to attacks from the BLUs. Almost like he was a zombie. What was going on with that boy? He was reluctant to question it when the Scout returned. The Scout would force himself to smile at the Spycrab when they would meet up, in the morning and in the evening. It was starting to bother the former Frenchmen a lot. Regaining his human form was not worth seeing the Scout work himself to death.
More snow had been dumped down upon them from the heavens in the form of a blizzard, waking the Spycrab from his slumber. Annoyed at the heavy flakes that would bounce off the window. He yawned loudly, snuggling back into the pillow in the usual spot on the floor next to the Scout's bed. It made him feel like a pet, but he wasn't going to complain. It was better than being in a tank like a real crab.
The Spycrab was just about to drift back to sleep when he heard the bed squeak. Looking to see the Scout shifting around in his bed. Rolling onto his back, holding still for a moment, before groaning and turning onto his stomach. Shortly after, he would shift again, trying to sleep on his back again. After this repeated a few more times, it was really starting to annoy the little crab.
"Scout?" The Spycrab said softly.
The Scout groaned, pulling himself to the edge of the bed and peering down . "What?" He said weakly.
"What's the matter?" He asked.
The Spycrab kept his eyes glued to him, not satisfied with the answer given. Prompting the Scout to let out a sigh. "I...haven't been able to sleep for the last couple days, ok?" Yep, he sounded cranky. "There's just too much on my mind right now."
"Lift me up." ordered the Spy.
With another sigh, the Scout lowered his hand down and brought the Spycrab up onto his mattress. An additional sigh escaped him as the Scout dropped his head onto the mattress, watching the crab look at him. .
"You are working too hard." The Spycrab said simply.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Kind of..." admitted the Spy. "You look like hell."
"Thanks." The Scout attempted to say it sarcastically, but couldn't.
The Spycrab rubbed his claw the way he would have rubbed a hand on the Scout's shoulder. Feeling how tense the Scout was as the boy closed his eyes helplessly.
"Let me help you, Scout." He cooed into the Scout's ear. "Take off your clothes."
The Scout's eyes shot open. "What?!"
"I...said take off your shirt." The Spycrab smiled sheepishly, hoping the Scout would believe his corrected statement.
The blank stare on the Bostonian's face was an obvious 'yes', but there was still a look of confusion - and disgust- in his eyes.
"I'm going to try to give you a massage," Explained the Spycrab. "To help ease your muscles."
Scout frowned, practically curling into himself at the thought of stripping in front of the Spycrab. Despite the fact that the Spycrab had seen him naked a few times. That didn't change the Scout's attitude though.
"It'll help," The Spycrab promised. "It'll relax you and help you sleep better." There was still a lot of uneasiness in the Scout's expression. The Spycrab could tell the Scout wanted to be helped, but there was something keeping him from accepting his offer.
"O...ok." said the Scout, softly. "But turn your back! I don't want you lookin' at me!"
It was the Spycrab's turn to sigh, but he turned around quickly, hearing the Scout sit up and pull off his shirt. He saw the red article of clothing fly over him as the boy tossed it to the floor, and almost flew off the bed himself when the Scout flopped down on his stomach. The crab turned around in time to see the Scout grabbed his pillow and bury his face into it. Letting out a bit of a nervous whimper.
The Spy smiled. Scuttling up to the Scout, crawled up his arm and onto the runner's back.
"CRAP!!" gasped the Scout. "That STILL feels frikkin' weird!"
"Scout..." began the Spycrab, again. "Why are you uncomfortable with me seeing you naked?"
The crab figured if he managed to get the Scout talking, that would allow the boy to calm down and relax.
"I thought you wanted to help me, not talk my ear off." The Scout spat.
The Spycrab walked slowly and gently up to the Scout's shoulders. Pressing his pointed crab feet into the soft skin, slowly and skillfully moving down and across the Scout's back. Feeling the tensed muscles beneath the flesh.
"Jeeze..." he felt the Scout shiver with each step.
"Why are you so ashamed about your body, Scout?" The Spy said, almost in a whispered. "There is nothing to be shy about."
"Yes there is." Scout whispered.
He focused on the Scout's shoulders, feeling the most tension there. The Spycrab was practically dancing slowly on the shoulder blades, eventually using his claws to very lightly pinch the skin. Hearing the Scout let out a surprised gasp.
"Why is that? Personally I think you have a very -"
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence." Interrupted Scout.
Scout let out a heavy sigh. "Wouldn't you be though?"
"Be what?" asked the blue crab.
"Ashamed of your body?"
The Spycrab chuckled lightly. "My teammates have seen me in the shower many times, I am not ashamed."
"Well, good for you." retorted the Scout.
"So why are you ashamed?"
The Scout didn't answer. The Spycrab chose not to push the issue and continued silently with his ministrations. Moving from the shoulders down the spine. Scuttling sideways to make each step count. He felt the Scout shift slightly, that must have felt good.
"Y-you've seen them...all of them...," Began the Scout. "All the guys out there...they're pretty strong...aren't they? Even the Heavy. He's fat, really fat, but...he's strong."
"Oui." nodded the Spycrab.
"An' the Engineer is short, but he's also still pretty strong..."
"And you are not?"
"That's right." The Scout said, sounding hurt. "I'm-I'm weak."
That explained why Scout had his mirror back in 2fort hidden behind his desk. The boy hated his body.
"I don't think you're weak."
Scout let out a groan. "Stop lying to me! You know I'm weak! Why else would you have stalked me all those times? Because I'm easy to kill!"
"I stalked you because you are fun to kill, it had nothing to do with how strong or how weak you were." explained the Spycrab.
He heard the Scout sigh, either out of frustration or out of enjoying the poor excuse of a massage.
"You've seen my body before...it's not like the guy's," continued the Scout. "it's just that everybody else seems to be all beefy and strong and awesome, but I'm all soft and flat and noodly heck, I still have some baby fat on me!"
"You wouldn't be fast if you had a large, muscular physique."
"Yeah but....that's why I joined RED...," The Scout admitted. "I wanna get stronger, so I can take care of myself....an' help others...but...I'm still weak." The Scout gasped suddenly. "HEY! Keep it above the belt!"
The Spycrab remove the offending claws from the waistband, bringing it safely back into Scout's comfort zone. "Sorry." He moved back up the Scout's back, focusing again on the Scout's shoulders. Noticing the tension in the runner's muscles as eased away. Even earning a relaxed sigh from his -only- favorite RED.
"In a way, Scout, you are helping me," The Spycrab added. "I'm small, weak, slow, pretty much helpless. Without you...I would've been dead."
The Scout nodded slowly, resting his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. Sighing heavily. Ready to finally go to sleep.
"I think you are strong," The Spycrab smiled. "I...I need you, Scout. To survive."
He stopped when he didn't get a response from the Scout. Figuring the Scout was fast asleep due to how heavy he was breathing and how peaceful he looked. It had been a while since the two of them had shared such a lengthy, meaningful conversation. It was nice. Without thinking, the Spycrab gently ran his claw though the Scout's hair. Then, he leaned up, faintly kissing the edge of the Scout's ear.
"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." The Spycrab whispered very softly into his ear.
'I love you'. If only he had the courage to say that.
"Spy?" The Scout whispered.
The Spy froze, not knowing if the Scout felt him kiss his ear and he was going to be yelled out for doing so. "Yes?" He said softly.
"I don't hate you anymore."
There was a slight pause. The sound of the Scout's deep breathing was the only thing breaking the silence.
The RED Scout sighed as he leaned against the remaining wall of the destroyed cabin. Part of him was regretting seeking advice from his BLU counterpart, but then again, he didn’t have anyone else to ask.
When he had the chance, he snuck out in the middle of the night to locate the BLU Scout’s room. He almost got caught a couple of times, but his lightning-fast reaction time got him in and out of the base before anyone - especially that BLU Spy - suspected a RED was in the base.
It was simple: Wait for another rest period between endless fights and tell the BLU Scout what was going on. Easy. The trick was to explain it quickly to his counterpart in a single breath before running back to the RED base like a bat out of hell. The Scout was lucky the BLU Scout was smarter than he looked.
On a side note - despite their similar appearances -The RED Scout always thought the BLU Scout looked a little dorky. Then again, anyone who proved to be smarter than him was always dubbed that title in his mind.
“This is the third time you asked me, man,” said the RED Scout. “And I still haven’t changed my answer. That should probably tell ya somethin’.”
“Sorry, sorry, it-it’s just kind of a shock that he would ask that of ya.” The BLU Scout muttered.
“Whaaaat? He never put a teammate in a situation like that before?” asked the RED Scout, sarcastically. The BLU Scout shrugged.
“No. But th-th-this is the first time he actually put someone else before him th-though,” he said innocently. “He may seem like a nice guy at times, but he was pretty selfish.”
Cue the awkward silence. The two Scouts just sat on the ground with their backs against the wall, looking in opposite directions to avoid making eye contact with the other. It gave the Scout a brief moment to think about what he was actually going to do: Keep the Spycrab, or man up and actually break this curse and send the man back to his team.
If he kept the Spycrab with him, he’d have a friend and an advantage against the BLU team since the little crab took up a habit of coming with the Scout onto the field. On the other hand...well, at the moment, he didn’t have any advantages or disadvantages for returning the Spy to his team. Aside from the fact that he’d be kissing a crab, he was still against the idea, even if it worked or not!
“Isn’t this the part where you try talkin’ me into returning your teammate?” asked the RED Scout.
“I...I’ve actually been thinking about that a bit,” The BLU Scout admitted. He was fidgeting a bit. “Y’know...our new Spy is becoming less of a dick these days and...” Scout let out a loud annoyed groan.
“Oh don’t tell me you’re goin’ soft on me, man!”
“A change in opinion isn’t goin’ soft, fella,” said the BLU Scout.
“A few months ago you hated that jackass!”
“Yeah, but he’s lightened up a bit...”
“Maybe on you, but he still wants to jump rope around the field with my guts!”
“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” The RED Scout’s eye twitched a bit.
“How can you possibly forget about tha- oh forget it!”
“See? That was easy.”
“Just stop talking.”
A short pause.
“So....what do you think I should do?” Scout asked, reluctantly. The Scout looked at his counterpart from the corners of his eyes, seeing what appeared to be just a smidge of a dreamy smile from the BLU.
“I don’t think it’s my place to say,” The BLU answered. “He asked you to choose what should happen to him, not me.”
“Jeeze...you’re no help at all.” complained the RED Scout.
“Why am I getting’ th-this feeling that you have an answer already...but you-you’re just being a pain in the ass to answer it yourself?”
The Scout froze at that question. When the BLU Scout tried giving him the ‘look’, he just turned his head to avoid making eye contact again. He had a feeling if he tried the usual denial, the BLU was just going to continue pushing and pushing the subject. After a while it tended to get annoying.
Still, even with the BLU Scout staring at him with a really creepy unblinking look, the Scout felt himself looking down a bit in guilt. This made his counterpart smile.
“You like him, don’t ya?”
“ONLY AS A FRIEND!” Scout said defensively.
“I wasn’t accusing you of being gay,” said the BLU calmly. “Wh-which is a shame. I, myself, as a bisexual find you to be kinda-“
“Please, just stop talkin’.” begged Scout.
Scout sighed in relief.
“So, you were saying...” The BLU Scout said. Scout calmed down, getting back on track again.
“I...well...I dunno...I like havin’ him around...he’s pretty much my only friend here on the field and he’s the only one I can talk to these days.” He looked at his counterpart. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but all my teammates think I’m crazy and yell at windows.”
“I have seen you yell at windows on occasion.” commented the BLU Scout.
“Shut up.” Scout said, flatly. “Anyway..., I’d like to have him stick around, but...I dunno. I just feel guilty keepin’ him as, y’know, a crab. Nobody can hear him and I’m the only one he has to talk to. What if I meet an attractive chick and have hot straight sex? Then he’s all alone!”
“You...can stop putting so much emphasis that you’re straight, I get it.” muttered the BLU Scout.
“If that happens then I’ll be known as the freak who yells at windows and has a blue colored crab as a pet!” continued Scout. “Well, they already think the Spy is my pet crab since technically it was the Heavy who brought him to me in the first place, but STILL, that just ain’t cool!”
The BLU Scout kept his mouth shut, seeing how Scout finally let out what he kept bottled up for so long.
“I just don’t know what’s gonna happen if me kissin’ him does turn him back human, what then? He can’t go back to BLU because your jackass of a Spy took his place and he can’t stay with me because he’s still technical a BLU himself. I’d keep him in my closet if I could, but he’s not a freakin’ troll!” Scout had to take a moment to catch his breath. “Is-isn’t that considered human trafficking after a while?”
The BLU Scout just shrugged as a response. Scout signed as he looked down at the ground again, almost shamefully.
“What if...what if I’m not good enough?” He asked, meekly. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” The BLU finally spoke up.
“Th-there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, it’d probably make th-the moment even more special.”
“You’re makin’ it gay again.” muttered Scout.
“How ‘bout you get your head out of your ass and stop worrying about what others might think and be more concerned about your own feelings!” The BLU Scout snapped.
Scout blinked in surprise. It wasn’t everyday that his counterpart would get annoyed with him. Actually, he thought that was impossible seeing how the guy was smiling and commenting on how awesome life was all of the time.
“Look, I know you’re all about your reputation, especially wi-with your teammates, but you have the right be happy as well,” continued the BLU. “Sure, they might judge and made fun of ya, but think about it; They’re armed with words and insults, and you have a freakin’ gun. Which do you think is gonna be more effective?”
Scout nodded, agreeing with that. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do. However, he knew that if he did choose to turn the Spycrab back human again, at least he’d know how the handle from his teammates if they found out.
“Want to practice on me?” offered the BLU Scout. Scout blinked.
“Wait, what?! Are you freakin’ kidding me right now?!”
“I helped a lot of my friends when they wanted to practice so they’d be more prepared with their girlfriends,” The BLU explained.
“You had a gay kissing crime ring?! That’s sick!” Scout cringed.
“You want help on this or not?”
There was, yet again, another long and awkward pause of silence. The BLU Scout just kept a half-lidded glance at his RED counterpart, while Scout looked every which way with his eyes. His face slowly glowed more and more red. Eventually, the RED Scout looked to the side to think about it before he looked back at the BLU.
“Your friends had girlfriends, right? How’d they do it?” He asked, almost timidly. The BLU shrugged.
“Most told me they just closed their eyes and imagined they were kissing Marilyn Monroe.”
“Really? Did it work?”
“Well…seeing how they had to call their parents to bring them clean pants...I would say so.”
“So, you want to practice on me?” The BLU Scout offered again.
“Sure…” answered Scout, reluctantly. “Why not, Miss Marilyn Monroe?”
The RED Sniper turned around at the RED Spy’s remark, his scowl hidden under his mask and hood. It had only been a few minutes since he had left the BLU Spy lying on the floor of that shack, and he wasn’t in the mood for talking.
“’S not mine,” He grunted, shouldering his rifle, and then stalked away, making a beeline for the stairs before anyone else could initiate conversation. He could barely register the voices around him as the team headed for the showers. All he wanted to do was get to the safety of his quarters. Unlike the rest of the team, the Sniper lived in the loft of the base, away from the others. Though the roof was leaky and the place was mostly damp it was the only place where he could think clearly, and remain undisturbed. And presently, that was exactly what he needed to do.
The Australian shucked off his boots the instant he slammed the loft door closed and bolted it for good measure. He placed his rifle on its designated stand- cleaning could come later- and then plopped down onto the crate that served as his seat. He sighed heavily, reaching to pull his hood back before staring at the red staining his palm and nails. His hands were still covered in the BLU Spy’s blood. Another heavy sigh.
He hadn’t been thinking, when he dropped his rifle and dove into that icy pond. He had seen the whole encounter between the two Spies. Hell, he’d seen the BLU Spy killed dozens of times- and he had been killed by the Frenchman a few times- without batting an eye. Seeing the BLU impaled on the log, screaming, and then watching the suit vanish under the surface of the water had snapped something inside him.
The next thing he knew he was pumping the Frenchman’s chest, carrying him out of the frigid waters, and bandaging his wounds, all the while muttering ‘Don’t you die on me,’ and ‘You better live, dammit’. When the BLU Spy regained consciousness in the shack, the Sniper had watched him limp back to base before finally retreating to his own.
Why? Why did he help the man who he was supposed to hate? He couldn’t stand it anymore; standing up, the Sniper dashed over to one of the leaky parts of the roof. There was a bucket to catch the falling water, filled nearly to the brim. Plunging his hands in, the RED Sniper scrubbed the blood off, tinting the water a faint pink. There, his hands were clean again, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off. The BLU had been limp in his arms, groaning and shivering- no longer an intimidating presence on the field of battle, but someone vulnerable and human.
The way he looked at me back then. The Spy had clear green eyes that appeared so vulnerable, especially with that red dot placed right over his forehead. When he had looked up into the scope, the Sniper hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. He had never found this a problem before. So why did he hesitate now? Wrestling with these elusive feelings was like wrestling with a gator in the mud- always slipping away when he thought he had them in his grasp. He was a professional, dammit! He was supposed to be in control!
Bloody Spook. With a growl he ripped off the hood and mask, throwing the articles onto the mattress that served as his bed. The aviators were placed more carefully next to his rifle, and then the Sniper began to disrobe. He stripped off his soaked clothing and threw them into a crate full of the week’s dirty laundry. Grabbing a nearby towel, he furiously rubbed his hair and skin dry.
He didn’t bother getting dressed in his uniform again- he was going to skip dinner and mull over his problems with an early sleep. Slipping on a dry pair of boxers, the Sniper slid under the massive coverlet and multitude of blankets. After a few minutes had passed, the Sniper grumbled loudly and shifted, searching for a comfortable position where his thoughts could fade away. Every time he closed his eyes, the BLU Spy popped up, unconscious, bleeding…
It was only after a half an hour of restless tossing and turning could the Sniper finally pass out into oblivion, but his dreams were filled with lightning flashes and a blue-suited figure in a freezing pond.
The morning brought only more rain. He awoke sprawling off of the mattress, tangled up in the mass of sheets. The Sniper groaned, untangling one hand from the blankets to rub at his face. He was covered in cold sweat, courtesy of a troubled night’s sleep. “Piss!” He hissed under his breath, disengaging himself from his bedding. It took a few moments to complete his morning routine, which consisted of getting dressed, polishing his rifle, and opening a window to let the cold air in. The Sniper didn’t mind the rain as much, and the cold air soothed his raging headache. Rotten backstabbin’ snake.
There was still about an hour or two before the next battle when the Sniper trudged down the stairs in search of breakfast. He needed at least a pot of coffee to feel alive again. He could hear his teammates moving around in the cafeteria/dining area. Judging by the lack of shouting and by the lack of smoke, it was not Pyro’s turn to cook breakfast. God, he hoped it was Truckie who was making a meal. Only Engie and Spy (and himself) could be trusted with the handling of meals, but the Frenchman was reluctant to do anything in the kitchen, and the rest of the team merely whipped up the food (if if could be called that) from cans. But Engineer made the best meals- and for breakfast, it meant hash browns, bacon, and eggs that weren’t rubber coated in oleo. At the thought of food, Sniper’s stomach growled.
After exchanging greetings with the Texan, the Sniper settled down with his mug full of coffee and his breakfast plate balanced on his legs. The dining room was usually chock full of noise at this hour, and the Sniper really didn’t want his headache to get any worse.
The sound of a cloak deactivating sent a cold shiver down the Sniper’s spine, and he nearly upset his plate when he noticed the red clad figure beside him The RED Spy smirked at him, bearing his own cup of coffee, and neatly crossed his legs.
"Thought you had better things tah do than sneakin’ up on yer teammate," The Sniper grunted, stabbing his fork into his eggs moodily. He was sick and tired of all the ruddy spies in Sawmill, whether on his team or not. The Spy smirked at him again and casually beckoned with one hand.
"Last night, after ze round had ended for at least a half an hour, you returned to ze base with blood on your hands and zhen you skipped dinner. What were you doing?" The Spy leaned closer, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Surely, nothing against ze rules?"
The Sniper swallowed a sip of coffee, his gut churning. Had the bastard seen him diving into the pool after the BLU Spy? Had he seen the Sniper, the RED Sniper, bandaging the frenchman’s wounds and letting him walk back to his base unharmed? The Sniper repressed a shiver. He knew both of the Spies would report a teammate’s misconduct to the Administrator at the drop of a hat, if only for the pleasure of seeing someone else punished. Everyone knew there was a reward for turning in traitors- better equipment, prime base locations, saner teammates.
When the Sniper spoke, he was glad that his voice did not tremble. “Ran into a BLU Spy climbing out of th’ waterfall pond just before the round ended. I finished ‘im off hand to hand, ‘cause the rifle’s piss poor at close range. Round ended roight when I killed ‘im, an’ then I had to get up to me nest and pack up all my gear. Walked back to respawn, stowed everything in my locker, and since it was Soldier’s turn to cook last night, I decided to sleep early. Satisfied?” He glared over the top of his aviators at the smug grin of the Spy, his hands trembling slightly. To mask this, he took another sip of his coffee.
Thankfully, the Spy just nodded once and got off of the couch, leaving the Sniper alone again. Still, he felt watched. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the other Spy. It could be possible the other was watching him, cloaked. It took him a quarter of the time he usually took to finish breakfast, and he nearly threw his dishes into the sink. He paced himself after exiting the kitchen, taking slow, deliberate steps back up to the loft. He would have to be extra careful today, maybe affirm his story by killing the BLU Spy a few times. Strangely, the idea made his stomach clench, imaging the BLU Spy bleeding and shot, but he shook it off. He was a professional, dammit.
The next afternoon, as the other employees were getting ready for the evening's opening, the manager walked out of his office with a worried look on his face. Jennifer was two hours late and this sent up a red flag because she was NEVER late.
"Has anyone seen Jennifer?" He asked his workers.
When everyone in the main room shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, his anxiety increased.
"I tried calling her cell and her house phone but I didn't get any answer." One waitress piped up. "What's worse is I've been trying all day."
If the manager wasn't on pins and needles before, he was now, especially after hearing that Jen wasn't able to be reached all day.
"Now, I AM worried." He said as he grabbed his coat. "I'm going to her house right now. Something's wrong."
A more prophetic sataement was never spoken. Something was indeed wrong and he was about to find out how right he was. The second he got one arm theough the sleeve of his coat, there came a knock at the front door. He quickly ran to see who it was, but byt the time he opened the door, he didn't see anybody. What he did see was a small package wrapped in plain, brown paper lying on the welcome mat. By the size and shape of it, it looked like a cd in a jewel case.
"What's this?" He asked himself as he slowly picked up the small package. With his run of luck today, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was a bomb.
As he carefully opened the brown wrapping paper, a note fell out onto the floor. It simply read:
"Watch this; it concerns your lovely bellydancer".
There was a picture of a hand drawn skull and crossbones at the end of the sentence which worried the manager.
"Oh, my God!" He whispered. He didn't want to alarm anyone.
He told his workers he had to go check on something and went to his car to take the DVD to the police. Maybe someone there could help him and save Jen before it was too late.
The manager arrives at the police station, after breaking at least a couple of speed limits with his crazy driving, and runs inside like a lunatic.
"Please! I need help! I'm afraid one of my employees was kidnapped!" He shouted making the whole precinct look at him. Not wanting the scene to get out of hand, an off-duty officer walks over to him to see what was wrong.
"Calm down, sir." He ordered. "Now what's the problem?"
The manager frantically explains the situation to the off-duty officer who had a look of horror on his face.
"Okay, I'll take you to one of our detectives." The officer said as he led the distraught manager to his office. With a knock on the glass pane with the detective's name painted in black letters, the officer called out to see if anyone was inside.
"Sir, you have someone who needs to see you."
"Send them in." The voice answered back.
The off-duty cop opened the door and ushered the manager inside before following him in.
"I'm Detective Jamie Baxter. How can I help?" He asked shaking the man's hand. Jamie was 6'2" and very handsome. With his well-built physique, shoulder-length brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he was popular among the female officers.
The manager of the Genie's Bottle explains the situation to the detective and shows him the DVD that was delivered to him along with the note. Without hesitation, Jamie leads the manager into a back room and puts the DVD into the player. The drawer slid back inside and the message on the silver disc began to show up in the t.v. screen.
The video shows Jen dancing sensually to the music in the background and her going into a slow, deep backbend. Her breathing gently pushed her belly in and out making her navel all the more hypnotic. The camera was focused on her sexy, deep bellybutton and the warped voice began to speak as the picture slowly zoomed in on her innie.
"I'm sure you recognize this young lady as your most popular dancer, Jennifer. And you probably know that her sexy bellybutton is what really wins everyone over. But if you don't do what I ask, you'll never see Jen again. And I might just carve out her innie and send it to you if you don't comply. If you think I'm bluffing, let me show you what would happen to poor little Jen if my demands are not met..."
The scene cuts to a very different one, which has all in the room gasping.
Instead of her lovely belly and round navel in a seductive position, she was blindfolded and gagged and strapped to a table with a spike dangling over her, aimed right at her bellybutton. She struggles in vain and her muffled screams are heard as the camera points to a timer.
"You have 48 hours to meet my demands or this sexy innie gets run through...starting now!"
The digital clock starts ticking down from 48:00.
"I'll send you my demands soon."
With that, the message faded to black leaving the manager with his face buried in his hands. The detective pauses the DVD, staring at her soft and helpless belly, sorrowful for the danger that delicious innie was in.
"Now what? She's like a daughter to me." The manager asks close to tears.
The detective looked thoughtfully. He saw how concerned this manager was for Jennifer and deduced that he had nothing to do with her kidnapping.
"I'll have a few of my officers stake out your restaurant as ordinary customers and workers. One will be in your office getting your phones tapped in case he calls. I need to keep this dvd and look over it again. There may be a clue on it to pinpoint where he has her captive." Jamie ordered.
The manager nodded worriedly and was ushered out by the same off-duty officer that brought him there. After he left, the detective replayed the DVD, pausing every now and then. Much as he was trying to find clues, he found his attention to keep being drawn to Jen's bellybutton; even when it was threatened to be skewered, there was something about her, about that navel. He keeps rewinding to the part where Jen does her deep backbend. He watches as she belly rolls and occasionally circles her innie with her finger, almost teasing whoever was viewing the tape. He can't keep his eyes off her bellybutton during that backbend, and he couldn't figure out why! But he needed to focus; he had to find the clues to their location...before it was too late. As he looked at the setting of the recording where she was bound and gagged, Jen's innie was always tantalizingly there in the back of his mind.
"Ugh! I need to focus on finding her. But...it's hard. She's so beautiful and that deep bellybutton..." He paused to let out a heaving sigh. "...will be skewered if I don't find any clues." He said to himself, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
As he continued to scan over the DVD, trying his best to keep his attention away from her mesmerizing bellybutton, the door opened. The off-duty officer that was there before leaned in with a message.
"Detective, the manager of the restaurant says he just got the demands."
"I'm on my way!"
Jamie grabbed his gun and badge and drove to the Genie's Bottle as fast as he could. A few minutes later, he arrives at the restaurant and goes to the manager's office where the owner was pacing back and forth looking even more flustered than before.
"It's awful! He wants $5,000,000 dollars cash! I don't have that kind of money! I mean, yes, we do good business, but...oh, this is terrible! Any ideas on where he's taken her?"
Detective Jamie didn't know how to answer him unfortunately.
At the undisclosed hideout, Jen's abductor had taken her off the table with the spike suspended overhead and forced her into a kneeling backbend, chaining her in that potition and leaving her blindfolded and gagged. After being teased mercilessly by her dance the night before, he hatched a sinister plan to have some fun with her deep innie during these 48 hrs. Unable to see what was happening, Jen felt the cold air chill her stomach, flowing into her open bellybutton.
"I hope you realize I wasn't bluffing when I said I'd stab that pretty navel if they fail to do what I ask." Said the man in a gruff voice. She felt his coarse, calloused hands caress her tummy with one finger circling her vulnerable navel. Her belly twitched and convulsed when she felt his rough skin graze hers.
"In the meantime, I'm going to have some fun with that delicious bellybutton of yours." With that, he walked away from her and searched through his duffle bag for various items.
Jen gasped in fear and her belly tensed as she heard the sounds of metal instruments clanging against each other while he was rummaging through who knows what. Her fear only intensified when she heard his footsteps walking back to her bent back form.
"Hmm...my favorite stilleto dagger. I always keep this baby sharp. Let's see if it fits in that cute little innie of yours, honey."
The man first touched the tip of the slender blade to Jen's soft lower tummy. Her belly quivered in fear and the cold steel made her skin break out in goosebumps. Then the man inserted the narrow blade of the dagger into her navel until the tip rested on the bottom. Jen tried to suck in her stomach, but it was no use. The man chuckled as he poked and prodded her bellybutton with the weapon.
"Mmm. Perfect fit."
She squealed in fear and tried not to breathe. He had the point pushed in so if she took too deep a breath, she risked getting punctured...so she took shallow, quick pants. Her captive backbend position, the movements of her belly, the sounds of her panting and the dagger so deep in her bellybutton made him lick his rough, chapped lips while her fearful moans continued to turn him on. He was living out his dream.
All of a sudden, the dagger was removed after a few agonazing minutes. Her belly stopped squirming, but the muscles remained taut, waiting for the blade to return. After a moment, she slowly relaxed her stomach as the man removed her gag, but not her blindfold.
"We're just getting started, sweet cheeks." She heard the man say.
"What are you going to do now?" She asked fearfully.
The man just smirked to himself as his index and middle fingers walked up her belly and around her helpless navel. The muscles in her belly twitched in reaction to every step his fingers took.
"Babe, I have 48 hours alone with your gorgeous bellybutton. I'll do anything I like. Hmmmmm, you sounded hot when you were panting...let's see how sexy you look when you can't breathe at all."
Where Jen was chained, there were straps, some screw-type devices and a thimble attached in the middle of the strip of leather. He gets a long, wooden dowel rod with rounded tips, puts one end in her deep bellybutton, and the other end in the thimble.
"If I were you, doll, I'd start taking those deep breaths while you can. They may be your last."
Fearful of that statement, she did just that and took lots of deep breaths. Once everything was in place, he uses the screws and cinches the strap as tightly as he could, making her go into a turkish drop backbend and pushing the stick push deep inside her lovely innie. She tries to suck her belly in to make room for air, but she quickly finds out that the straps tighten even more. She gasps and her mouth gapes open. She arches her back but all it does is push her bellybutton into the stick more, preventing her belly from expanding and giving her less ability to breathe, which she desperately needed.
Try as she might, Jen's amount of breath was quickly diminishing. The rod pushed deeper and deeper into her bellybutton with each shallow breath she took. She felt as if her lungs were being flattened. All the while, her captor watches, aroused, as she attempts to breathe with a wooden rod in her navel.
Her gasping plea was just barely above a whisper. She could feel the pulse in her bellybutton throb against the rod as she writhes; her bellybutton grinding against the rod. She mouths the words 'help me' hoping her captor has some shred of humanity and allow her to take a much needed breath of air. He sits and watches the erotic motions of Jen's belly as she tries in vain to make the stick move enough for her to inhale.
With each breath she takes, Jen's belly is pushed in just a little bit more, unable to come out again. Her navel pulse gets more painful, the rod so deep inside it she can visibly see the it jumping up and down with every beat. Another minute or two and she will have suffocated.
She felt herself getting woozy and her vision becoming blurry. She was sure she would die from lack of air in the next few seconds...but...
She felt the rod loosen and leave her bellybutton. When she was able to, she arched her back high and her belly heaved as she took lots of slow, deep breaths. The man couldn't resist. He went to look at her abdomen from above; her bellybutton seemed to have gotten deeper and sexier than before. He watched as her bellybutton subtly changed shape as she inhaled and exhaled, how her belly heaved in an out, regaining her breath and color; his eyes on her slightly deeper navel. He put a hand on her bare stomach, feeling it push out and sink back in deep with each breath. Jen felt the rough texture of his hand there, but she didn't even care at the moment.
Once she managed to calm herself a bit, the man said, patting her belly, "Ready for more?"
"No...let me go, please!" She breathlessly begged.
"No way, chicky. I ain't done with you, not by a long shot."
He looked inside her now deeper bellybutton and had to touch it for himself. He took his finger, licked it, and pushed it deep inside her navel. She squealed in disgust and squirmed violently, trying to move her bellybutton away from his slippery, slimy finger.
"Ohhh, it's so soft and warm and...oh...is this a tiny hole in your bellybutton I feel?"
"N-no." She panted out in panic.
"Oh, yes it is." He grinned to himself. Now he was gonna have some fun. With this new discovery, he was trying to find an innovative way to tickle the sexiest part of her body. He looks around the room and spots a tiny little worm crawling on the ground. He picks it up and places it on her lower belly. When Jen felt the wriggling creature on her skin, she writhed making her arched back position all the more seductive.
"EW! A worm! Get it off me!" She squealed.
She gasped sharply as she felt it crawl inside her bellybutton. The sensations, as expected, tickled Jen to the point of laughter. As grosss as it was to the bellydancer, she did like the ticklish aspects. Her friend April did this to her before...and she quickly remembered what happened then. Her laughter soon turned to panic.
"P-please, I beg you. Get this thing out of my bellybutton! Please get it ou-"
She couldn't finish her sentence because the worm had found the tiny hole in her navel and had already burrowed into it. She threw her head back, arched her back and heaved her belly high as she went into frantic, erratic panting. The hole led to the most sensitive part of her bellybutton and the worm was making itself home in it. The man watched as the worm's tail disappeared into her navel's deepest recesses.
"So, how do you like my little friend?" He asked in a bad Tony Montana impression.
Jen was unable to answer him; she was panting too quickly and heavily and it got even more frantic when she realized he wasn't going to get the worm out. This was just as bad as the stick, if not worse. With the panting, she wasn't getting enough oxygen.
Jen gasped for breath as the she felt the worm crawl around in her "secret bellybutton chamber" as April had called it. It was the single most sensitive spot in her entire body, and no appendage could fit through the hole to get the worm out.
Her belly jerked around violently as she tried to breathe but the worm refused to stop torturing her. Inside, the pesky little creature explored the small chamber, its soft walls and floor warm to the touch. It squirmed around even more, trying to see if there was another hole that led even deeper into Jen's bellybutton...
Jen's body glistened with sweat as she tried pushing her belly in and out, trying to coax the worm out. A drop of sweat trickled down her belly and inside her bellybutton. It went to the hole and seaped inside. It reaches the worm and it makes it more excited. It wiggles more quickly making Jen's eyes widen behind her blindfold. She bends back more, pushing her belly in and out and panting more desparately. In its excitement, the worm came across what seemed to be another opening and it decided to explore and liked this chamber even more. Jen let out a barely audible squeak as the tiny worm hits the motherload of her sensitive bellybutton. Her belly rolled involuntarily and she bent back so far, the top of her head touched the floor. Her belly was arched so high it looked as if she was offering it to her captor...which aroused him even more.
"I wonder what you're thinking right now, hot stuff?"
"Christ! I didn't even know those parts of my body existed!" She thought to herself. "Oh, God, please make it stop! Nothing should be in there!"
Jen's belly moved in ways she never thought possible by itself. That damn worm! It felt like it was breakdancing in the deep hidden chamber of her bellybutton. The man saw the veins in her neck throb as her tummy got even sweatier. Pretty soon, if the worm went any deeper, it would run into her navel pulse.
Her belly rolled, twitched and fluttered as the worm seemed to do gymnastics inside her hidden belybutton. The worm wriggled its way down exploring the second innie chamber when it finds a warm spot. The second it touched it...it sent a shockwave through Jen's entire body.
Jen's belly pushed her belly out so high as she went into another fit of frantic gasping and panting. The worm had found her bellybutton's pulse point. The kidnapper, excited by the erotic breathing, stood and looked at her belly from above again. He had been taping the entire escapade since she arrived. He grabbed the camera and pointed it from above ber belly. He zoomed in on her bellybutton and he salivated. Her bellybutton looked as if it was an open mouth trying to take in air Jen couldn't. He relished in seeing her bellybutton change shape as she panted; her belly was slick and shiny from the sweat.
"Oh, God! I'm feeling faint...if this...worm...doesn't get out...I'm a goner. Panting...too...much...can't...breathe...please...someone help..." She thought to herself.
Her panting got slower and more spaced out...unfortunately the worm was still wiggling at its normal pace. If he didn't remove the worm soon, she could die from asphyxiation.
Starting to grow accustomed to the feeling...barely...Jen's breathing slowed by the tiniest bit. It started up again, however, when the worm poked her pulse point again. The result was a jolt of tickling and pleasure throughout her entire body, her form visibly shuddering. Once more she was unable to breathe. Her belly was so sweaty by now it looked like she was swimming in a pool for the last hour.
All the while her captor filmed, so aroused he was afraid he'd drool on her delicate tummy. Her belly, taut and sweaty, was starting to turn red from lack of air.
"Need...air...*gasping*...can't...breathe...help...need...to...breathe..." She gasped.
Jen's breathing was slowing down and she was about to relax again, but the persistant worm keeps hitting her sensitive pulse point making her buck and arch involuntarily. She continues to pant rapidly, but she still wasn't getting any oxygen. Despite it looking like she was, she was unable to breathe. The sadistic captor kept filming as her body was now starting to turn a pale shade of purple.
(This is the start of a series of tickle stories involving my OC 'Niru'. Link Niru's character profile in the description. Enjoy!)
The sun was fast falling on a midsummer day, a small caravan group walked the road as the sun set looking for a place to make camp for the night. Niru Taraka was a nineteen year old mercenary, and a self proclaimed 'Ninja'. She had taken on a job to guard a caravan from the village of Greenvale to Greatstone city, the capital city, and where the red palace and the queen were. The caravan group had found a off road forest clearing and had just finished setting up camp. A young woman by the name of Ulissa was talking with Niru, Ulissa was eighteen had sort ginger hair and stood at 5,4, she was skinny and had long legs, wearing a red and tan tunic, long with a knee high tan skirt with a flower pattern on it. This was an all female caravan group, consisting of Niru, Ulissa, Gardenia a tall blonde who was in her mid twenties, Hitaru a short woman brown haired woman in her early thirties, Feyru a nineteen year old elf girl with dull-ish light blue hair, and Jenala the leader of the caravan group she was tall and had long brown hair, and was twenty five.
They all settled down to go to sleep, Niru was supposed to be on watch but she had fallen asleep. She was asleep a very large and thick branch of a big tree. Niru awoke to the sound of many female voices laughing, she jumped down from her tree confused by the sounds. In the dark of the night she saw torch's and men. 'Bandits!' Niru thought to herself. She saw Feyru tied to a tree and they were tickling her. Niru was confused by this, but then remembered the stories about the tickle thiefs. Theifs that tie people up, steal their things, and also tickle torture them. She never thought much of the stories, she assumed even if they were true that she could handle a couple thief torturers. Tickling was a very common form of torture. Niru slipped one of her knifes out of it's sheathe.
She slow crept up behind the men who were tickling Feyru, poor Feyru was crying with laughter and weakly struggling against her bonds. Niru grabbed one of the men and pushed her blade up to his neck.
"All of you, get the hell out of here, or he dies!" threatened Niru.
"You wouldn't really kill him!" challenged one of the men
Niru moved her blade and stabbed him in his lower thigh making the man scream out in pain.
"Let these people go free!" Niru demanded.
Before the man could answer Niru was hit over the head with a club and she blacked out. When Niru woke up she could still hear the laughter of the caravan group. She tried to move but found herself to be tied to a tree. The man that she had stabbed stood in front of her, with a blood drenched bandage where she had stabbed him. Niru was at first fearful for her life, but then the man ran his fingers down her helpless bare underarms making her cringe as he stroked her sensitive underarms. She was determined not to laugh, and she was finding it very difficult to resist.
The man lifted her shirt up exposing her bare defenseless belly. He danced his fingers on her soft and toned sensitive belly. This made Niru finally break out into laughter.
"Ahahahahahahahahah!!! EEahhahahahahahha!! Wh-heheh-en I gehehehehet ou-ohohoahha-ut i'm go-ohohhahahha-onna k-k-kekehehehehheh-kick your ass!" threatened Niru, but she didn't sound very scary or tough due to the fact that she was giggling wildly.
This tickling went on for a while he used his rough fingers to tickle her soft sensitive sides, dancing then on her sides, causing cute reactions. She was giggling wildly and struggling against her bonds. But it was no use, she wasn't getting loose. He squeezed her sensitive sides, and kneaded her ticklish tummy. She was giggling insanely but was still able to keep her cool... until he slipped his finger into her navel. Her eyes widened and she struggled harder, he was using his pinkie finger to explore her ultra sensitive belly button.
"HAHAHHAHAHAHA O-OHHHHOHOOHOH M-HAHAHHAHAHA-MHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAH-MAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHEEHHEHAHEHAHGAHAHHAHAHEKEKEKGAAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!! PLE-HEHEHAHAhAHAHHAHAHEHEHHAEHEHHEHE-ASE!!!! NO-OHOHOHHOHAHAHAHAHHAHA!" Niru begged through her hysterical laughter, as very many tears of laughter ran down her face.
"Not so tough now, huh girly?" said the man.
"SH-HHAHAHAHA-SHUT UP HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH Y-OHHOHOH-OU A-AAHAHAHHAAAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA OH GO-OHHHAHAHHAHAHAHHA-D IT TICKLES SO MUCH, EHEHEHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA, PLEHEHEEASE!!!! PLEHEHEHEHEHAHAHHAHA-PLHEHEASE STOHOHOHHOOHOOPP!!! I'M BEHEHEHEGGING YOU!!!" Niru was a laughing mess, begging, laughing, crying, thrashing against her binds.
This tickle torture went on for several minutes until Niru passed out, once all the women of the caravan had passed out the thieves left with anything the wanted to take.
Pain. That's the only thing I feel. Every nerve in my body is crying out in firey agony, as if some pyromaniac had lit them on fire. It torments me a great deal, but I can't help it. I just lay there on the bed, looking at the peeling ceiling. Funny, isn't it? It hurts to lay in a comfy bed. The irony is strong enough to taste - it doesn't taste good. Apart from that, my jaw is clenched tight and the inside of my mouth is burning like a furnace. My tongue was swollen last time I remember. It hurt like a bitch back then. Luckily, I can't feel it now.
I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Beside me is another bed with a dead soldier on it. I don't know which one he is, but I know that he's dead. He died from blood loss, as I can tell from the steady drips of blood from bed. I stopped counting after four thousand. My braincells were commiting suicide one by one from the boredom in this god forsaken room. I wish I could join in with them. Sadly, I cannot.
This sucks. The putrid smell of blood irritates me, as if I wasn't in enough misery as of now. I'm not exactly sure how much longer I will be here. I've been here for several hours already. It's been a while. Will help come?
I can hear a crunching noise from my mouth. It doesn't bother me, though. My jaw's on fire from all the clenching, so some tooth breaking isn't going to be worth shit. I tried unclenching and easing myself into a relaxed state, but it only hurts more. My tongue is still swollen beyond belief, and forcing my jaw open only feels like a wildfire for all my nerve endings.
I might be going insane. There's an inferno in my head. I can't talk, move or think clearly. The only thing I hear is the steady beat of the blood on the floor. I don't know whether I'll be okay after this. Will I put out the inferno?
"Hello, Is there anybody in there?"
That creepy guy is here finally. His accent really freaks me out, but I don't care. He's my salvation and murder. I can't see him, but he's somewhere around the doorway. I would turn my head, but it simply hurts too much to move around. I hear approaching footsteps and am soon covered in a shadow. I can see the Medic's darkened profile. He's grinning wildly as if he's glad to see me in such a state. I think he's waiting for a reply, but I can't force the words out. His insane smile turns into a skeptical frown. I'm not sure exactly what he's thinking about, but I don't wanna know. All I long for is to be comfortably numb, and nothing else.
"Just nod if you can hear me."
Following his commands, I gather the strength to move my head slightly. The pain is too much, so I let some tears out. The sadistic smiles returns to his face. I really do think he's excited to see me in such a weak and helpless state. Hell, I can't even move without crying. I can hear some more crunching from my mouth. I can tell by the look on the Medic's face that he is geniunely surprised, but nonetheless he's excited to see me like this.
"Come on now, I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again."
He reaches into his coat pocket a rumbles in there, talking in German. I'm not even sure that he's a real doctor, but at this point in time, I wouldn't care if he wasn't. He is the only one by me to help. No one knows his really name, so we all refer to him as "The Medic", 'cus he's the one who heals us on the battlefield. Or, a better term, healed. He pulls out something from his white coat and examines it in the light. A firey-red liquid glistens as he starts to laugh menacingly. It's a syringe. I have no idea what's in it or what the Medic has planned to with it. I sweat a little from fear. He turns around with a psychotic grin and proclaims in a freaky tone.
"Relax, I'll need some information first."
I'm really scared now. I hope he's knows what he's doing. He's almost literally playing with fire, and I can't intervene with his actions, as much as I'd love to.
"Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?"
Is he being serious? Is he purposefully trying to torment me even more? Is not appart from the massive marks on my body where I'm hurt. And he just effin' smiles as I glare at him. Then it happened. The wounds were like butterfly's wings on my body compared to this. The needle penetrates my leg and the most horrendous burning sensation shoots through my body. Blood sputtered everywhere as I scream loudly, destroying my vocal cords, hurting my tongue and making my jaws explode with a bang. The Medic's already-sadistic smile turned more vicious and more cruel as he cackled at my terrific screaming. I continued shrieking like this for several minutes until I lost my voice.
Suddenly, thing start to change.
My pain... I can't feel it. I look up at the Medic, shocked, but he is still smiling at me. I feel dazed, but this is much better than being crippled and in bed. I attempt to stand up, and to my surprise, I can. There is no problem whatsoever with movement! It's like I'm in a dream! I climb out of the small bed and shuffle towards the Medic. His lips move, but I don't hear anything. I kinda fall on to him - my balance right now isn't the best. He repositions me and tosses the syringe aside. Open-mouthed, I feel funny. My hands feel like two balloons, gently floating up. I examine, I notice that they seem so far away from my body. In fact, everything seems to be distant from me, as if I'm standing behind some fancy glass. I giggle, or at least it feels like a giggle. A surge of happiness comes over me and I laugh out loud. Nothing's funny, but everything's funny! I have become comfortably numb!
I try to walk to the Medic and thank him, but he's so far away and I'm walking so slow. It doesn't matter, because this doctor deserves my thanks. I have never better and more joyful in my life. I fall to my knees right beside the doctor and start laughing again. I can't stop laughing at this! He kneels down and speaks into my ear, barely audibly.
"Can you stand up?"
I stand up, still giggling like an imbecile.
"I do believe it's working. Good"
I don't understand, what's working? The medicine? Isn't it obvious, seeing as I'm finally walking around and laughing? The Medic's flaming sadistic smiles turns into a clever smirk.
He turns around and walks out of the room. I stand there, confused at what just happened. The euphoria is fading, and is being replaced by the previous pain. I stumble to the other side of my bed, where the dead soldier is, and try to get on my bed again. The hurting is coming back fast; faster than I can walk to the bed. I fall brutally on the floor, beside the pool of blood, and start feeling what I just suffered through several hours.
I feel sick now. Not a little sick, but very sick. All the orginal pain has returned, but ten times worse. My inferno has now spread into a white-hot headache. The lights seem to be very bright; much brighter than before. I can't move. Literally, my body can't do that even if I try. I want the Medic to come back, but I only hear his laughter in my head. I choose to ignore it, however. I can listen and watch the droplets of blood fall on to the ground from the bed. I still don't know who it is, but now, I don't care. I don't care about anything. The dream is gone.
I feel my pulse becoming slower and slower and the dripping quieter and quieter. Funny, for some reason it's not that bad. I was expecting to be much worse. Slowly, I slip away into darkness.
You bite your bottom lip nervously as you look between the Medic and the Spy – the only two mercenaries who are yet to be paired off. You let your gaze linger on the Medic far too long and turn away meekly when you notice, trying not to draw attention to yourself.
The Spy makes an impatient noise and shakes the bag in his hands at you, goading you to hurry up. His masked face shows his displeasure. You ignore his raised eyebrows and plunge your hand into the dark bag, letting your fingers trace the sides till they reach the bottom.
Your hand searches the near empty depths of the bag till your reaching fingers brush against something silky and smooth. You gently wrap your fingers around the foreign object, feeling how it is virtually weightless. Its presence is only just recognisable on your skin.
You retract your hand and see the item resting against your fingers. It's a long feather. The plume is a clean shade of white, the feel of it against your skin soft and light. You feel your heart flutter as you know that the feather can only be from a certain well looked-after dove.
Turning around you look at the Medic and hold the feather up."I guess this is from Archimedes, Medic?" You ask, confidence leaking out in your voice. The Medic adjusts his silver-framed spectacles as he stands up and walks with brisk steps so that he stands in front of you, looking down at you with ice blue eyes, cool and calculated.
“Ja, it is. He has recently begun to shed more feathers. I'm going to have to do some research to make sure it is nothing serious.” He explains as he plucks the feather from your grasp and runs his ungloved fingers across it, as if inspecting it.
You don't realise that you had been doing your own inspection of the Medic till you hear a rather impatient sound as the Spy clears his throat, and you look away to see him holding the door to the makeshift closet open watching you and the Medic expectantly. “If you are quite ready.” The Spy comments purstly as you walk past him and through the doorway.
As you step inside you can see the assortment of items littering the ground and see where other people have been. You jump when you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn round, ready to slap the hand from your shoulder, only to see that it's the Medic.
“Now liebling. Stay with me, ja?” The Medic instructs, keeping a hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle push with the other. You step further inside, feeling your face burn as you feel the warmth of the Medic's hands seep through your t-shirt.
When the Medic feels that you have gone far enough he stops you and gestures for you to take a seat. You both settle on a patch of floor that is the least cluttered, and the Medic turns to the doorway.
“You can shut the door now, Herr Spy,” he instructs the Spy, who closes the door even before the Medic has finished speaking.
You and the Medic are now drenched in the darkness, causing all your other senses to become sharper. You can hear your heart thumping in your chest and the sound of the Medic's steady breathing in front of you. You can smell the antiseptic that he uses clinging to his skin, sharp and clear in comparison to the cloying smell of dust that lingers in the air.
“So... you must find these games childish, huh?” You say meekly, wringing your hands together nervously, unsure of how to act. You hear the Medic chuckle lightly before he answers you. “Not at all. It was during one of these in university that I met mein wife,” he explains, chuckling again.
You feel your heart sink.
“Y-You have a wife?” You ask, your voice stuttering ever so slightly. “I did, but... nein... not any more.” He sighs and you leaned forward, concerned. “But--” you begin, but the Medic interrupts you. “It was not long before I joined BLU, if I remember correctly.” He begins, his voice sounding as if he is far away in his thoughts.
“I had moved to America with my wife so that we were closer to her sister and her family. We both felt it would be a fresh start after living in Germany during the war.” He explains, and you listen intently, eager to learn more about the usually formal German. “We had both learned English in Germany which managed to get us jobs very quickly. She worked in the local secondary school, teaching biology. I got a job at the town's hospital as a Doctor.”
“After a few months passed, after our arrival in America, Astrid began to wake in the morning with nausea. It was then that we realised she was pregnant.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We were overjoyed at the prospect of becoming parents. The nine months passed in a blur of excitement and preparations for the baby's arrival.”
You can feel yourself smile despite your original worries, hearing the happiness in his tone. But your smile falters when you hear the happy note in his voice subside as he continues.
“However, the due day came and went and the baby had yet to arrive. I watched over Astrid and she kept me up to date with her condition. It was another month before the contractions started and I rushed her to hospital.” He reaches out to you and links his fingers with yours as he continues.
“We had discussed it already and she wanted me to be the one to deliver the baby. She felt that she'd be more comfortable that way. So when we began the labour process, I noticed something in the scans that had been overlooked. The baby had not fallen into the delivery position and this required me to perform a caesarean.”
The Medic squeezes your hand and remains silent for few moments before he continues, his voice strained.
“The caesarean had not gone smoothly. I'd managed to retrieve our child and discovered that we had a little girl, but she had trouble breathing and I had to give her to another doctor to get her the necessary care before turning my attention back to Astrid. She... she was losing blood and I wasn't quick enough. She died due to losing too much during the procedure.”
You feel the Medic shudder as his voice begins to sound broken and pained. “I felt so bad that she had died under my watch. Her blood on my hands. What made it worse was that not two hours later our daughter also passed on. I'd lost both of them and it was all my fault.”
You don't think as throw your arms round him and hold him close, letting him bury his head into your shoulder as he clings to you, his arms pinning you to him.
“I quit my job afterwards. I arranged the funerals for both of them with help from Astrid's sister. The name we had ready if the baby was female was Lottie, so both graves were named. And then I saw a flyer saying a Medic was needed for war a week after the funeral and I applied without a second thought.”
You gently run your fingers through his hair, stroking it soothingly as your other hand traces the muscles of his back reassuringly. “Danke, mein liebling,” he murmurs as he pulls away from you and presses an awkward kiss to your forehead.
You don't have time to register what he had done till light floods the small space and you can see the Spy lingering in the doorway. “Time's up,” He calls inside before disappearing. The Medic gets to his feet and holds out a hand to help you up. You accept it and let him pull you up.
“We should talk more. Would you like to come to my office for coffee?” The Medic asks, still holding your hand. He wears a relieved smile on his face. You nod and smile as he turns to lead you back outside. You feel a flutter in your chest as you remember the story and the gentle kiss he placed to your forehead, and you vow to never let him be sad again.
You entered the lit ballroom, adjusting your mask as you walked down the long set of stairs. You had received a letter from your friend Zelda stating that you were invited to her masquerade ball. She must have been meaning to make it a surprise, because she hadn't spoke of it until you had received your letter. You brushed your dress unconsciously as you looked around the room. You didn't see any sign of Zelda or Link and assumed they must be flocked with people or escaped together. You chuckled at the thought. You saw some familiar townspeople, but you couldn't see their faces clearly because of the masks they wore. Actually everyone seemed to be wearing a mask, good to know everyone had one. You saw a group of kids wearing masks run around and talk with each other cheerfully. You smiled. This was defiantly the most light-hearted ball Zelda has had. You felt a tap on your shoulder. "I couldn't help but notice you came alone, my dear." You turned around to the unrecognizable voice, to come mask to mask with a man. He wore a strange purple outfit of sorts and had perfectly combed ginger hair, behind his mask. He was wearing a Bremen mask and the only other one you've ever seen, was owned by Link. This mask looked about the same, revealing the white-feathered face of the bird. It was a bit ironic, because you were wearing a bird mask yourself. A Crimson Loftwing to be exact. "It seems we may have the same taste in masks." The man said. You looked back to the man, only being able to see the lower half of his face, which showed his wide smile. He bowed slightly, before holding out his hand. "It seems it must be fate then. Care to dance, my dear?" "Sure..." You took his hand, shivering, as a chill went down your spine. He seemed to drag you to an open spot on the dance floor, before turning around to you and setting his other hand on your waist. You put your open hand on his shoulder as he began to lead you. Surprisingly, you didn't seem to hesitate with anything he was leading you with. "I don't think I caught your name." You jumped a little at the sound of his voice. You must have been lost in your thoughts. "It's ___." You answered. He smiled, again and slowly turned you, before pulling you back to him. "So, ___, what brings you to this royal ball?" He asked. "Well, I'm friends with the princess and she invited me to come. I haven't seen her, yet, but it's probably because she's busy." His smile, grew into a small frown as he clicked his tongue. "Still doesn't seem right to leave a young girl out alone in the middle of a dance." The aura around him caused you to shiver, again, and you decided to lighten the conversation. "So, what about you? Why are you here?" He lost his frown and smiled, again. "Oh, I'm glad you asked! I came here to promote my business! You probably wouldn't have guessed, but I provided most of the masks here." You kind of gaped at his exclamation. Most of these masks were from him?! "They're beautiful! Did you make them?" You asked. "Most of them I collected, but yes, a couple I did handcraft. See the man over there with his wife?" He pointed over to a couple. "It took me several weeks to perfect that Kikwi mask he wears." "Wow! Could you make one for me?" You went dead silent after your silly request. What were you thinking. You just met him, why would he make a mask for you? But you got a different answer instead. "Why, of course, but I wouldn't know what to make you." He chuckled. His cold hand brushed the side of your face as he traced the mask you wore. "This mask is beautiful, may I ask where you got it from?" "Oh, my friend, Rupin, gave it to me. Said he hd it for a while, but had no use for it." You said, touching the mask a little. "Rupin sounds familiar..." He chuckled a little, tracing the mask, until he traced down your cheek to your chin slowly. "You know, the only way I could make a mask for you is if I were to see your true face." "I guess taking it off for a second won't hurt." You carefully slipped off the mask, trying not to mess up your hair too much. He gasped dramatically, as he brought his face closer to yours. "My... It should be illegal for you to wear a mask, it would be such a crime to hide such a pretty face." You blushed as he cupped your face, looking over every detail of it. "I don't know if I should make you a mask." "Oh, please! Your masks are beautiful and if you could make me one, I would take that chance." You pleaded. He smiled a little, as he leaned his face closer. "Would you for any price?" He asked quietly. You couldn't see his eyes because of the mask, but you could feel them boring into you. "It depends..." You answered. "Hm... Alright, I'll think of something. Is there a particular mask you would like?" You thought for a moment, before shaking your head. "Surprise me." He slowly smiled and nodded. "Trust me, I'm very good at surprises." With his hands already cupping your face, he leaned forward placing his lips on yours. Surprised, you didn't have anytime to respond before he pulled back. He smiled, as he slipped off his mask, revealing his true face. His cruel looking eyes freaked you out a bit, but then you remembered how kind he has been to you and lightened up. "That can be the first part of your payment. I'm not sure when I'll have your mask done, but meet me every third day at the clock tower. I promise you, one of those visits the mask will be finished. Now if you excuse me, I believe I am late." He brought you to the side and left you, just when you find your voice. "Wait, you never told me your name!" You called. He turned around and smiled at you. "Just call me the Happy Mask Salesman." And with that, he left without another word. You stood there for a moment, before pulling on your mask, again. "Well, I think I had enough tonight..." You decided it was just better to head home now. ~The Next Day~ You entered the palace as one of the maids led you to Zelda's room. She bowed and left as opened the door. You walked in to see Zelda and Link talking (*cough*flirting*cough*), actually can Link talk? They stopped and looked to you. "___! I didn't see you there!" Zelda blushed, but smiled. "How are you today?" "I'm fine, maybe a little tired from last night." You said, sitting down next to her. "Why is that?" She asked. Link looked a bit interested, too. "Well, that masquerade you had was pretty interesting." You said. When you received no reply, you looked over to the two. Zelda wore a look of confusion, while Link wore a look of caution. "What masquerade? I didn't have one last night, actually the whole castle seemed quieter last night." She said slowly. "Wait, what?! But everyone was there! Everyone had masks, music was playing, and if even danced with someone there!" You exclaimed. "I think I would remember a dance, ___. But you know I would have invited Link and Link, was there a masquerade you went to last night?" She asked, looking to him. He shook his head, as she shrugged. "I don't know what else to tell you, I think it may have been your dream." She said. You thought over everything last night, before sighing. "Yeah, you're probably right..." ~Dawn of the Third Day~ You quietly walked down the streets of the small town. You wore a hood to cover you from the light rainfall that cascaded down softly. You looked forward at the looming clock tower, remembering the mans words. You knew this was probably all a dream, but you had to take the chance and see if he would meet you here. You made it to the huge doors of the clock tower and with all your strength shoved them open. They slowly closed behind you, as you brought out your lit candle. The light shone off the empty walls, as you walked along the stairs. You scanned the room for a moment, until your light was diminished. You spun around hopelessly, trying to see through the darkness. A chuckle filled the room.