This is why 4chan's /v/ board horrifies me in new ways each day (NSFW)

[SaigonTimeMD]

"C'mon, I know you can do it," Scout begged, looking up at Sniper with those big pleading eyes, clutching at Sniper's legs from where he knelt on the ground. "I've /seen/ you - you have no idea how much - oh God, please!"

Sniper shook his head, cheeks red as beets. "I - "

"Do it for me, please?" Scout impored, hands crawling up Sniper's thighs. His fingers settled on Sniper's belt buckle, then lower, unzipping Sniper's pants slowly. "/Please/," he said again, eyelashes fluttering. Sniper's hands came out to settle on Scout's arms, but made no move to stop the Scout from pulling his still-mostly-flaccid (and sort of small) cock out of his pants. "I want it so bad."

"This is - you're mad," Sniper protested again, still making no effort to /stop/ the Scout, and he groaned as Scout ran his thumb over the head of his cock, head tipped back.

"For me," Scout murmured, "do it for me, so sexy - gonna come in my pants just /thinking/ about it -" As if to emphasize his point, Scout moved one of his hands to rub at the growing bulge in his pants. Sniper made a choked sound and then - hot fluid trickling out onto Scout's fingers, then a stream, pouring onto Scout's face, slicking back his hair, glistening on his cheeks. Scout even opened his mouth to catch some of it, gasping as he rubbed harder at his pants, shuddering in pleasure.

"Fuck," Sniper murmured, still blushing red-hot. The last drops trickled out off his penis, and Sniper shivered as Scout wiped his thumb across the head again.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Fuck - so good -"

---

They sat on the bed, the room only lit by a small table lamp. Heavy's strong arms were warm and his lap comfortable; Medic almost dozed off. When his lover nosed his ear with a grunt to get his attention, he only cracked one eye open.

"Hmm?"

"Doooktor. You want to fuck?"

Medic shuddered. "How many times do I have to ask you to not be so vulgar?! Ask if I'd like to have sex, or examine you or anything, but don't be so crude!"

Heavy's grin turned devilish.

"So, you'd like to fuck?"

"If I wouldn't feel so nice right now, I'd punch you."

"Nah, Doktor does not punch," Heavy claimed, still grinning. "Doktor heals and is all classy and mannered."

"Yes, and I play violin and serve tea." Medic added sarcastically.

"You do play violin," Heavy pointed out.

Medic blushed and pouted. Heavy chuckled and nuzzled the graying hair.

"So you'd like to-" Medic glared up and Heavy rolled his eyes. "You'd like to have sex?"

Medic gave a firm nod of approval. "You don't have to ask."

[George Clooney]

ahahahhahaahahahaahahahhahaahhaha,Pukes* scares the shit outa me too. Thats why this game needs girls.

[SaigonTimeMD]

I GUESS IT'S TIME TO RUIN XEXES' IDEA OF PLAYING PYRO

---

Every day he would go back to the meeting place alone. He did many things alone since their first time, but this was a secret he could never tell another living soul. He saw him sat among the boxes, waiting for his ‘partner’. Those rasping breaths echoed ominously around the room and the younger man shuddered. ‘Why had he asked for this?’ Because he knew the Pyro kept secrets. He didn’t use them like the Spy, nor did he broadcast them like the Soldier. Scout could trust him to keep his dark desires hidden.

He never took his mask off and Scout was fine with that, the last thing he wanted to see was that face contorted in pleasure as he abused his willing partner. There was a routine, the Pyro never needed to make his intentions known, the Scout knew already.

He gingerly stripped off his light uniform, leaving them in a little heap on the floor along with his sneakers and cap, very mechanical. He shed his underwear and fished the battered tube out of his abandoned shorts and began preparing himself. The tube was almost empty now, but he was sure to leave some for the other man.

This is what he found the most humiliating slowly dipping his fingers into himself, twisting and stretching. Scout was certain the Pyro watched him from behind those cold dead lenses, there was something about never seeing that man’s expression that frightened him. Sure they were on the same team but that didn’t make them friends, ‘mutually beneficial’ the Medic would call it…

He was ready. The tube changed hands and the Pyro deftly unzipped his suit, he never took it all off only what was required to make the Scout blush and look away. The boy was stood in just his socks, exposed and vulnerable, and the Pyro wouldn’t even take off his fireproof glove. Where would be the pleasure in that? He forced out the last of the clear lubricant onto his unnatural fingers and readied himself. The slippery substance felt wonderfully cool against his burning flesh as he watched the Scout’s eyes widen with trepidation.

It has only been a few weeks since the brash youth had approached him.

“Hey… Pyro, you can keep a secret, right?”

The older Pyrophille wanted to laugh; the proud, beautiful Scout was afraid to lose face. So he went to the man with no face and no voice, begging for a release for his teenage lust. And Pyro was more than happy to comply. Even now as he bent the boy forward over a crate he marveled at the flawless skin along his back, and his strong calves pulled taught by the strain. The older man always loved the boy’s slight resistance as he lined up against him and slid inside with one sharp motion.

Even the quiet Pyro couldn’t contain a muffled groan; the Scout had been too quick and sloppy with his preparations and the increased friction felt amazing. The boy cursed to himself, trying to forget that this had been his idea. He always struggled to fully accommodate the Pyro’s size, and he knew his virginity was the only reason the deal had taken place. The Pyro seemed fascinated by his youth and naivety.

But now as he fucked into him, watching the Scout buck and mutter obscenities, the Pyro was not happy. No matter how deep he went or how much blood he drew it never felt enough. The Scout would come hard, screaming his pleasure, blinking tears out of his eyes, but his partner might as well have been fucking a CPR doll, his reaction was just the same…

The boy whined, he needed both hands to steady himself against the onslaught, but he was so desperate to touch himself, damnit why was the Pyro so selfish?! He could hear the rasping grunts behind him, the metal edge of the gas mask scraping along his shoulder. Why did he love this so much? Getting fucked by an almost stranger, making him ache and bleed. Because he knew that nothing needed to come out of it. After this meeting they would go their separate ways and fight together tomorrow. Just comrades, nothing more.

The Scout was a little surprised as he felt a thick black glove snaking across his stomach to grasp his weeping length. The Pyro had never thought to service him like this, to consider his needs and his release. And, aside from the intense waves of pleasure that hit him now from both sides, it felt… nice to know that he cared. Of course the Pyro would never say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes. Scout could feel the pressure that had been building inside him reach a head, he loved doing this, being fucked and touched and used, in the arms of a man he barely knew.

When he came he was very loud, but the Pyro paid his cries little attention. His orgasm was substandard. He pulled out and put himself away. Inside his suit his body waited, it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to go again, for the real fun to begin. His stomach dropped in anticipation. This was the night he had been readying himself for. He had allowed the Scout to finish on a high. He watched the boy, still panting and clutching the box and he smiled. A smile the Scout would never see, as Pyro reached for his axe left lovingly in a darkened corner.

The Scout never knew what hit him, it took only a crack on the back of the head with the heavy wooden handle to drop him to the ground. Of course he wouldn’t stay down indefinitely so the Pyro went to work, leaving his axe and wrapping his arms around the lithe naked figure on the floor. He had gotten ready well in advance; with strong rope, his flamethrower was primed, extra lubricant in his pocket. That longed for heat pooled in his stomach, he had been waiting for this for so long. Finally a true release, something he could hold onto for the months to come…

When the Scout finally came to, the first thing he saw was that dark impassive mask, watching him from across the room. The Pyro was sat waiting, patiently. The next thing Scout noticed was his position. He tried to clutch his throbbing head but his arms were bound, as were his legs. He was attached against a stack of boards, limbs spread wide, exposing his core to the voyeur before him. The bonds were numerous and very tight.

“Hey! What’s the deal man? This wasn’t what we agreed!”

Silence. The Pyro didn’t even move, he just watched. Impassive and hollow. His gentle breathing just audible from where the Scout lay.

“Hey!! Asshole I know you’re in there. What do you think this is? Some sort of sick game?! Let me go! … Seriously, come on, this isn’t funny … Will ya just stop staring at me like that! … It’s not like you never seen me like this before … … Pyro?”

The other man waited patiently for the bravado to run down and the Scout to be quiet. When silence fell across the room again, he finally rose from his perch and strode to where he had located his trusty flamethrower. It felt heavy and comforting in his hands. They were old friends now, they worked better together than any human. He allowed himself a smug noise as he rounded on his captive Scout, whose eyes betrayed his increasing worry. But it wasn’t until the Pyro was within touching distance that he shrieked.

“Jeez man! What are you doing! You gonna rape me with THAT thing?”

The twinge of hysteria in the boy’s voice caught in the Pyro’s thighs, this was going to be sublime. He could feel the blood pumping through him; he loved the panic and the claustrophobia in the boy’s face. Scout’s were perfect for this, they were cocky and boisterous when they could run free across rooftops, dodging bullets; but if you tied them down and waved a flamethrower in their face, their panic was palpable and devastatingly sexy.

Pyro couldn’t help himself, the fear in the air was something he reveled in, he loved the screams of his victimes as they ran from him, burning. He loved watching as they fought for their lives, as they either fought back and burned more, or ran for their pitiful existences. Those screams came back to visit him at night and the sensations they brought to him could never be beaten. How badly he wanted to touch himself on the battle field, but it was that pent up frustration that made him so good at his job…

He ignited the flamethrower, watching the Scout sweat and struggle, he allowed himself a low chuckle, the tightening in his suit was becoming unbearable, he just wanted to rip it off and enjoy the heat and terror. He lunged, the flames licking at the wood around the Scout.

“What are you doing?! Get the fuck away from me! Are you actually gonna… YOU FUCK! YOU SICK SICK FUCK! …”

Anything further that he said was lost in a roar of flames and unintelligible screams. The Pyro artfully attacked the Scout, the boy’s skin bubbling and burning in the intense heat. His howls of pain ignited the fire within the near psychotic Pyro, he pulled the flamethrower back and retreated to a suitable spot. He hurled his gear down, tore open his suit and sank to the floor.

The flames licked all around the dying boy and his shrieks were divine. The Pyro’s flesh absorbed the heat as he pumped himself raw. Pouring fresh lubricant onto himself and spreading his legs with his slick fingers. Grunts and moans poured out of his mask to match the Scout’s screams. He wished this feeling could last forever the fire, the shrieking, the death and the smoke. But he was so hard and it felt so fucking good, as he came his muffled cries almost matched the burning boy’s death wails. Spilling himself over his gloves and the floor he lay there for a good minute, basking in the glow of the fire, the Scout had fallen silent.

The Pyro was only mildly disappointed that the Scout had suffocated in the smoke rather than burning to death. But nothing could mar the perfect afterglow and the memory of those screams. But he couldn’t sit in the fire forever, no matter how much he longed to. He zipped himself up and slung his weaponry over his shoulder. The warehouse would burn along with all the Scout’s effects and tomorrow his team would win the battle. He was so ready to destroy any enemy he met. He shuddered then laughed, strength coursed through him as he strode out, leaving his lover in the smoke filled warehouse…

[SaigonTimeMD]

JUST ONE MORE AND THEN I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO GO WATCH SOME PERFECTLY NORMAL PORN.

---


“Initiation”

The fading light of the recently set sun glimmered over the two slipshod forts, dimly illuminating their shabby, pockmarked walls. The night was calm and filled with cool, wet, misty air rising from the filthy moat between the buildings; the smell of gunpowder, blood, and smoke hung everywhere.

No battle cries rung out between dusk and dawn on this battlefield; it was an unspoken rule between RED and BLU that their battles would be fought in the daytime, with the nights being saved for rest and recuperation (of course, both sides had several well-placed sentries on hand in case any treachery were to occur).

Within the BLU fortress, Engineer, Soldier, Demoman, and Spy were seated at a small fold-out poker table engaged in a war of their own. Spy sat back on his wooden crate, leaning against the wall and smirking at the Texan across the table. Engineer held a pensive hand to his chin (as if that would make it any easier) as he tried to decide whether the spy was telling the truth, lying, using reverse-psychology, using reverse-reverse-psychology, or—God help him—reverse-reverse-reverse-psychology. Demo rolled his eye at the display, taking a huge swig of his “special drink.” Soldier had long since fallen asleep.

As the so-called “new kid in town,” Scout wasn’t offered a seat at the poker table. The men joked that they weren’t even sure if he was old enough to gamble yet. Instead, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed in vague annoyance, as he watched the boring matching of so-called “wits.” Pyro, as usual, was seated in the corner with a box of matches, pulling one out at a time, lighting it, and intently watching it burn until the flames snuffed themselves out on his glove. When Scout asked Pyro why he did that when there was a perfectly good flamethrower right next to him, he couldn’t understand Pyro’s answer, so he went back to leaning disinterestedly against the wall.

Medic and Heavy were nowhere to be seen.

“It just ain’t fair. Who ever heard of wearin’ a mask during a poker game? Why don’t you take that thing off for a change?” Engineer remarked gruffly at the smug Frenchman.

“I take ze mask off for no one,” was the cryptic reply.

“Not even your woman?” laughed Demo a little exuberantly, as usual with an accent directly proportional to inebriation.

“Non. She likes it like zat.” Another smirk.

“Ah… hell. This is boring anyway. Let’s do somethin’ else,” mumbled Engineer. He hated feeling like he was stupid. And when he was around Spy, that’s all he ever felt.

Demo gladly folded up the card table- chips, cards, and all- and stuffed it into a discreet corner. He swaggered back to his seat with the men, and an awkward silence (punctuated by the periodic swallowing of three beers) arose.

To be honest, the men had little in common other than the intelligence they were sworn to protect and a penchant for bloody destruction. When the time came for them to engage in actual conversation- excluding the topics of strategy, killing, and women- they all felt a little under-armed.

“Eh… sure was a… big battle today, wasn’t it?” Scout piped up, hoping to break the silence.

No reply, save for a few raised eyebrows.

Scout licked his lips and looked away. Not the right subject? Okay, try something more topical. “So. Yeah. Where are Medic and Heavy?”

This elicited a quick smirk from Demo that he clumsily hid behind the mouth of his bottle.

“Where, indeed…” mused Spy with feigned curiosity.

Engineer grimaced and looked down at his hands fumbling in his lap.

Soldier drooled a little.

“I think they were having a fight today. I guess Medic übered him too soon or something and got them both shot at… I heard Heavy yelling about it in the equipment room.” Scout continued. A little gossip might get them talking… maybe. Anything but those boring, uncomfortable silences! “And when we called it a night, Medic ran off to one side of the base and Heavy stomped off to the other.”

“Well, you know how those kinds of quarrels can be…” drawled Demo with what was probably meant as a wink.

“What do you meant? What kinds?” asked Scout, happy for a response.

“Oh, you know, boy. Lo-” Demo began, but he was interrupted by plodding footsteps at the doorway. The group turned to see who it was.

“What is team doing?” asked Heavy apathetically, a somber look on his face.

“Oh, just a whole lotta nothin’…” Engineer replied, taking another sip of beer.

“…Such an exciting team we are,” sighed Medic, leaning against the other doorway across the room.

Heavy stiffened at the sound of his voice, glancing up to meet his eyes. “…Medic.”

Medic raised an annoyed eyebrow, pursed his lips, and placed his fists strategically on his hips. “…Heavy.”

The silence in the room got a whole lot more interesting to Scout.

“…About today. I wish to tell you that… well, I must inform you that I’m-” Heavy fumbled for words, moving slowly toward the center of the room.

“What. Sorry? Is that the word you just can’t manage to say?” was Medic’s reply as he stood firmly in the doorway, stubborn as a nagging wife. In the background, Engineer snickered, Demo and Spy jeered at Heavy—quietly!—and Scout looked on in confusion.

---

WHOOPS MESSAGE TOO BIG GUESS I'LL HAVE TO CONTINUE IT ELSEWHERE

[SaigonTimeMD]

CONTINUED FROM ABOVE

---

“…no. I am furious with you and your incompetence! Team could have won today if you had not-” fumed Heavy, advancing upon Medic.

“Nein!” A weaker man would have backed down from the Russian. But Medic was no weak man. Snarling, he erected himself to his full height—surprisingly a little more than that of Heavy—and leapt forward, shoving the man with a stern gloved hand. He accomplished no more than creating a light thud on the unmoving body, his impotence only fueling his rage.

“If you would have listened to what I was saying—which, I’ll add, was just a reiteration of our strategy—you could have used that charge to decimate their defenses! But you were too busy listening to the sounds of your beloved… Sascha… firing into empty air to hear me!”

Heavy glowered silently. He glanced down at his chest and saw that Medic’s hand was still there, quivering with rage. With one fluid motion, he grabbed the hand and firmly jerked Medic towards him, bringing their faced mere centimeters apart. His other hand planted tightly on the small of Medic’s back eliminated any chance of his escape. (Heavy’s second hand seemed a little low for Scout’s tastes, but hey, maybe it was a Russian thing…)

“This not conversation to be having in front of team,” he growled almost inaudibly, and Scout realized that Heavy was even scarier when he spoke softly. Medic writhed in Heavy’s strong grip, but the larger man was steadfast. “I see you in private now.”

This said, Heavy half-dragged, half-lead the struggling Medic out of the room; the others listened to their footsteps as they made their way to a room sufficiently “private” for whatever was about to occur. Scout sighed in relief; at least he wasn’t on the receiving end of all of that aggression.

“Does, uh… does that kind of thing happen often around here?” he asked jokingly, cursing himself for not waiting to ask that until his breathing had returned to normal.

“Whenever the mood strikes ‘em,” replied Engineer simply.

A sudden loud thump from the direction the pair had gone made Scout nearly jump out of his skin. It was followed by a distinct slapping sound and, soon after, the noise closely resembling that of furniture being pushed across the floor.

“Should, uh… should we be worried for Medic?” asked Scout with a precautionary smile on his face. The sound of a body hitting the wall resonated through the fort.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be worried, enfant. Medic is rather… resilient, shall we say?” drawled Spy around a newly-lit cigarette.

The cacophony of sound continued for a few more minutes, and it seemed that none of the others gave any sort of damn what was happening to the team doctor. Oh well, Scout figured, if it didn’t bother them, it wouldn’t bother him… he slid down the wall and laid his head on his knees. Maybe he could catch a little shut-eye if those two finished soon…

At the gathering of men across the room, there was little conversation; there was only an amused silence interrupted by swigs of beer and the occasional immature giggle. After a few minutes, Demo’s eye lit up with newly thought-of mischief.

“Boyos. Want to do something fun?” he whispered to them softly.

Spy’s disgust was evident even through his mask. “Don’t let those two put any ideas in your head, Demo-”

“No, no, nothing like that, ya loony frog! I have an idea… how about we put our newest recruit through a sort of… initiation?” Demo continued with a twisted grin.

“This don’t sound wholesome at all, Demo. Do continue,” smiled Engineer.

Scout dozed a few feet away, only to be jerk awake at a strangled cry from the direction of Heavy and Medic’s “private room.” Rubbing his eyes, he wondered what was keeping Medic alive by this point. Maybe some kind of trick of his trade?

“Boy. Come here, we have a little errand for ya,” slurred Demo.

Scout pulled himself up and strode over to where the men sat, frowning suspiciously. “Errand? This late at night?”

Demo laughed and elbowed Engineer sharply in the ribs. “Tell ‘im, Engie. Tell ‘im ‘is errand.”

Engineer smiled graciously and removed the elbow from his ribs. “Y’see, kid, we just remembered that earlier we were all talkin’ about a new strategy we’re gonna try tomorrow. Heavy plays a big part in it, but he don’t know about it yet. He’ll prob’ly be mad if we spring it on him tomorrow, so would you mind bringin’ this to him and tellin’ him to read it?” He offered a small folded sheet of paper to Scout.

“I’m not sure I want to interrupt them while they’re going at it like this,” Scout hesitated even as the paper was thrust into his hands.

Demo snorted. “Nonsense, boy. When he sees the strategy we’ve thought up, he’ll be glad you interrupted them!” assured Demo with a firm shove to Scout’s back. “Now get going!”

Scout shrugged nonchalantly (or at least hoped he looked nonchalant) and started down the hallway. But with each footstep came more and more suspicion. If this information was so important, why would they trust it to a newbie like him? Maybe they wanted Heavy to beat him up, too. It was probably all just some elaborate trick to humiliate him—

Scout’s grieved thoughts were interrupted by a strangled shriek coming from a room down the hall. It sounded like the doctor, Scout noted grimly. He halted in his tracks, shoving the folded paper into a pocket and crouching behind a crate halfway down the hall to listen to the man’s frantic, breathless cries. Poor Medic… he must be getting the beating of his life, thought Scout. Honestly, how cohesive could a team be if there was so much abuse going on all the t—

Several loud grunts of exertion. Definitely Heavy, Scout decided. Suddenly remembering his mission, he began once more to creep closer to the door, wondering on the way exactly how hard Heavy had to be working to be so winded while dealing with a mere Medic. Pulling from his many weeks of intensive scout training, Scout slid covertly down the hall, palms flat against the wall, until he finally arrived at the door.

Crouching next to the door, Scout pressed an ear to the wood and listened for any lull in the action for him to conveniently enter on. What he heard was not encouraging.

Flowing from the room was a terrifying stream of growled obscenities in a language that, quite frankly, scared Scout. Or at least they sounded like obscenities. It was Medic’s voice, so it must have been German. A noise like something heavy falling to the floor and shattering followed. Soon after, there was an even more terrifying guttural reply in what was probably Russian. Scout was glad he couldn’t understand what they were arguing about—they were so angry they were panting!—but he couldn’t imagine that they could understand each other very well.

A few loud, rhythmic thumps, the clattering sound of something metal crashing against the floor… and no more speech emerged from the room, only deep breaths and a kind of strangled, pained whine from Medic. Scout’s heart sank for the doctor. But the others said he was resilient, right…? He almost felt guilty for not interrupting them sooner, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be in Medic’s place then.

Scout considered just sliding the note under the door. That way there would be no confrontation, no beatings… but also no guarantee Heavy would even notice the tiny slip of paper. Then Scout would be to blame for their sure defeat the next day. No, Scout would just have to man up and accept his responsibi—was that a moan? Did Medic just—

That was the last straw. Medic was probably about to lose consciousness. He might even die if Scout just stood there and did nothing! Something heroic grew in Scout’s heart as he steeled himself to throw open the door to Heavy’s atrocities, liberating the poor Medic and delivering the message as he had been ordered.

He reached down, quite resolutely, and turned the handle. But the door was locked. He jiggled it a few times and cursed. No matter…

He lifted his leg, quite resolutely, and kicked the door in.

The folded note dropped slowly to the floor.

Scout’s eyes widened. His upper lip twitched, and he found both legs to be quite immobile. The scene washed over him in an instant.

In the room, which turned out to be a rather large broom closet, Medic, face red and slick with rolling beads of sweat, glared wide-eyed at the intruder from over Heavy’s broad shoulder. But it wasn’t the face that Scout was fixated on. Scout stared numbly at Heavy’s bare back (muscles rippling impressively even in the dim light of the closet), at Medic’s hands clutching almost frenziedly at Heavy’s shoulders. Scout’s mind noted dimly that Medic’s arms could not reach all the way around Heavy’s back, and that Medic wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Or pants.

Scout’s eyes traveled inexorably downward and froze at the sight of Medic’s bare legs wrapped tightly around Heavy’s waist. Somewhere inside Scout breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that Heavy’s pants were still at least… partially… on.

But then there was the bucking. Scout stared, agape, at the bucking. It was almost hypnotic, actually, the smooth rhythm of Heavy’s strong hips as he pounded Medic hard against the closet wall. So that was what all that thumping was about.

Heavy paused. After a quick glance over his shoulder at the intruder, he turned back to his prize and continued on his merry way with Medic with a rather obscene grunt. Medic gasped and squirmed under Heavy’s ministrations; he had a little more modesty than the Russian.

“N-n-nein, schatz. No-o-ohhh… not with the boy—watching—” he struggled to speak between moans, not through them. Heavy rolled his eyes impatiently and paused.

“A little privacy, perhaps, Scout?” muttered Heavy huskily over his shoulder at Scout.

Scout snapped to attention. Scout who? His heart thumped in his chest with the cold, creeping realization of exactly what he was witnessing. A few heartbeats after Heavy’s order Scout was off, dashing down the hall to he didn’t know where. Anywhere but there. Heavy raised an eyebrow, drew the door as closed as it could get with broken hinges, and descended hungrily upon his blushing Medic.



The three conspirators in the basement sat silently, eagerly awaiting the fruits of their labor. They didn’t have to wait long. Soon after Scout headed down the hallway, they heard his returning steps, swift and light, coming towards the main room.

Scout burst panting through the doorway. His face was bright red.

“So, kid, did you deliver the info?” inquired Engineer mischeviously.

“I… he.” Scout stammered intelligently. “You… it was a- you were… THEY were…”

“Were what, p’tit?” asked Spy innocently.

“Yes, boyo, what did y’see that got you so worked up?” cackled Demo.

“…everything.” Scout whispered.

As the three men guffawed uproariously at the young man’s trauma and at their own job well done, Scout once again slid down the wall to the floor. He let his head fall into his hands as he reviewed the image permanently burned into his head.

“He… he leaves his gloves on…”
THE END

[Runtime]

I dont even have to read this wall of text to know what its about

lame 4chan nerds

[S.W.A.T.Y]

lol runtime

[George Clooney]

what disturbes me the most right now is not the story's content, its the fact that I couldnt stop reading no matter how much I wanted to.

[SaigonTimeMD]

I'll admit, I wouldn't fap to any of it, but some of it is kinda funny.

[SirMootles]

Not /b/? Mootles is ashamed.

This is why we can't have nice things.

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