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No. 2293
This is the beginning of the promised rewrite! - The first 1/3 will be the same overall (then things will begin to really differ after Lance comes in). However, there have been LOTS of tweaks, an altered origin story, and added details with animal/anatomy, cause that's the most fun part. So if you have read it I'd give it another look.

OBLIGATORY WARNING - NAMED TF2 CHARACTERS. I got an okay to post this here - they really are just the classes with names and mild realistic individuality, and dash of gay.

So here is the first chunk all at once, it has (chapters) 'parts' if you need to stop at any point :

...

---Part 1---

They told horror stories about Respawn.

It was supposed to be a new technology to save lives...but just months after its instatement already the men stationed at The Well felt like guinea pigs with a Russian roulette gun pointed at their temples.

Some people got sick from Respawn, the shakes, night terrors, seizures. At the same time, some remained unaffected; fresh has daisies when the machine spit them out. It seemed quite ‘choosy’. The worst, of course, was that sometimes it did the very opposite of what it was designed to do – it could kill you. People had been fried by Respawn if they went through too many times in a week, or the power levels dipped too low, or your respawn was after hours, any number of factors...

The Respawn machine was indeed fickle mistress.

That was why the mercenaries actually gave two shits about calling for a medic. The medigun could heal you up in a jiffy, giving you one less pull of the trigger with that respawn roulette gun.

But it’s hard to call for a medic when you are tossed into the water.

“AGGnnn!” The BLU team’s only Spy was thrown into the canal, tossed by a blast from a soldier’s rocket launcher. He’d have survived if he could have made it to the tunnels, but the same RED solider followed after him to finish the job. ”Bon voyage Crouton!” The American chuckled as the rocket fired.

The Spy didn’t have time to dodge, even if it all seemed to happen in slow motion. He was always so careful, so sneaky; the worst he ever got was spy check burns, which thankfully respawn or the mediguns fixed. But he’d never been gibbed in the water, and it was so close to ceasefire...

His mid section was blown clear apart, guts and blood spilling into the water. In a foolish reflex, he’d put his hands down to try and block the attack. Those were blown off nicely too. Since his head was mostly unharmed, he had a few moments to watch the world go dark as he bled out, and to see his mangled body. His finely tailored suit was like confetti among intestine streamers as the Spy drifted in the waterway.

The ceasefire bell rang just as the BLU Spy sank to the bottom, dead at last.

The Respawn machines automatically lowered their power levels after ceasefire, sensing no more bodies in the pick up system. The Spy was left waterlogged for a good half hour, forgotten. His team did not wonder where he was at dinner; the Spy was frequently out of sight, off on his own. That was what Spies did. So it was not thought of again.

...

The Frenchman’s balaclava was partially blown off, making his short, dark, and slightly curly hair a tangle for some young fish to pick through. There were lots of small aquatic creatures in the canals, for the irrigation-like canals at Well led out to rivers, which were a trickle at their desert like location, but fed out to larger ones far away. Any small river fish, crawdad, and frog that could squeeze through the grates made it in, and would feed on the bits of blood and flesh that Respawn did not pick up. The system often left behind ‘extraneous’ appendages that it could just reconstruct - blown off legs, fingers, toes; all good scavenging for the freshwater wildlife. The fish would grow and become too big to make it back through the grates, making the canals like little ecosystems.

The fish scattered like a fluff of disturbed feathers as the Spy’s body zapped out of existence, finally recovered by respawn.

...

The BLU team, who was sitting down to dinner, startled as they heard a *KZZATTCChhh*. The lights flickered...right before all the power went out entirely.

“Wot the bloody ‘ell...?” The marksman snorted to the darkness.

There was a silence before the Scout burst out laughing.

“Shuddap!” The Soldier barked, aggravated and hungry, not liking being unable to see his dinner.

“Did we blow a fuse or somethin’?” The BLU Engineer scrunched up his nose. Soon the rest of the team was poking him to go fix it, because that was his job right? The Engineer grumbled it was BLU industries job to make sure their equipment was working, the lazy bastards.

He went over to the breaker box, and indeed found the Respawn circuit tripped. It had shorted out the rest of the base. He grunted in annoyance, but was then pleased as he could easily fix the issue and be a ‘hero’ to the rest of the waiting team. A quick flick over of the breaker switches, and the team gave an amused cheer from the kitchen. Anything different was welcomed to the monotony of the work week, they’d be stationed at Well a long time with no transfer.

The breaker box was in the locker room just outside Respawn. A wispy cloud of amino acid-laced smoke spewed out of the Respawn room as the missing member of their team finally materialized. The BLU Engineer drew closer; confused as to why someone was re-spawning after ceasefire...

He gawked as the smoke cleared; unsure if what he was seeing was real.

...
...
...
---Part 2---

When he awoke, the Spy found himself strapped down, and being prodded over by Team Fortress Industries BLU crewmembers.

The company got wind of the ‘malfunction’ right away, and stepped in to ‘correct’ the problem. They had no idea how Respawn could cause someone’s genetic make up to alter so completely, and so neatly. They sent the Spy though multiple respawns, with various settings and injected drugs, trying to make the system restore his original pattern. However, the system believed the combined animal and human DNA to BE his original signature. The scientists were a bit baffled. How did the foreign DNA get in there to begin with?

Of course there was no original backup on hand... it would cost too much to store such high-memory data with redundancy.

“Je vous en prie....please....no more...” The Spy was mumbling to deaf ears, not fully aware of his surroundings (or much of anything) because of the drugs. Why did he feel so dry? Why was breathing so hard? He groaned at the lights overhead and the straps holding him down.

“I don’t think we can fix it...”
“What about his contract...?”
“Cover it up, no one will know. He’s a Spy, his identity is already shadowed… like he doesn’t exist. They’ll find a replacement in a few weeks.”
“What do we do with him then - ?”

“Dispose of him.”

They wiped his data from the system, and prepared lethal injection doses, unaware from the viewing deck wide eyes were looking down upon them.

It was a middle aged German man, the doctor technician in charge of keeping the complex bio patterns for the BLU’s respawn machines in check.

BLU had been trying for years to auto regulate the patterns, but computers had not yet caught up to how to recognize minute nuances. They still required a human element to periodically weed out the different from the ‘okay to be different’ pieces, otherwise the computer would respawn the men as they were at their last original pattern scan – including hormone levels, stomach contents, hair growth, and most important – memory. It was the reason respawn was not perfect; it still had a human behind the wheel to keep those elements in check.

He had taken over for the previous technician who had left....that man had developed the whole system. No doubt he was relaxing on a beach somewhere, paid handsomely by BLU for his inventions. While equally brilliant, the scientist in charge now felt his own genius was completely ignored. He was nothing more than a caretaker, a baby sitter. He felt everyone on the behind the scenes team looked at him as such.

So he decided to work on something of his own, something that would make BLU single him out for as HIS work- his invention.

He kept it a secret from everyone. That day he finally put his computations into the respawn system. Watching on the Administrator cameras, he saw the Spy blown conveniently into the water before the ceasefire bell. No one would miss him for 30 minutes; his body would be hidden. Surreptitiously, he quickly got to work. He needed the extra time to mix his altered patterns with that on file for the Spy...
Now here he was, staring down at his work, it was successful in that the Spy was ALIVE, and not a pile of protein goo. Now the question was - was he the perfect perfected killing machine he had intended to create? Surely BLU should recognize his genius – bioengineered soldiers, fit for any terrain. Sea, land, and air could be conquered, without the need of machines! This was only the start...
The German brashly came into the room, smug and blinded by his own ego.
He revealed the altered Spy was his doing, and explained how he did it. The half aware Spy just barely heard what he was saying, but he could not process it at that moment. The other technicians stared at him, not sure whether to be shocked, scared, or impressed.
However the reception he received was not as glorious as he had envisioned.
The Administrator was not pleased. The heads of BU were not pleased. They wanted people who answered to them, not sneaking about and doing things behind their backs. Half animal soldiers? Such nonsense.
The German was hauled away, cursing and screaming. He was to be dealt with appropriately. As for his experiment? He pleaded with them to let him study it, to not destroy it. It was proof of his success! Proof of his genius!
As he was handcuffed and the door to the respawn room closed, all he saw was that lethal injection needle coming up to the altered Spy.
...
...
...


--- Part 3 ---

They could dissect him – see exactly the damage the Respawn doctor had done. The Spy did not even have time to think about why he couldn’t quite feel his legs, or what that mass of writhing was from his hips down. He was just aware enough of that ominous needing coming for him. It would mean his final death.

Instinct kicked in.

The other DNA in him said ‘ESCAPE’.

The doctors all screamed as half-dried tentacles ferociously struck out, tearing through leather restraints and knocking over metal tools. Guards came in the room, momentarily shocked at the speed and strength long enough for one of the doctors to be violently ripped apart like a piñata. Bullets flew, purple blood splattered against the walls. An inhuman snarl, a flash of claws and fangs was all they saw before the gunmen were bloodily dispatched.

With a damaged cloaking device, the injured Spy was tailed by more TFI guards right into the war game compound. A few of his old team caught sight of what was going on. They watched as their former Spy was riddled with bullets, and kicked into the sewers like garbage. While they wanted to understand what had happened, in the heat of the moment it was easier just to forge the whole thing happened. The altered Spy was dead, the German doctor imprisoned, it was done with.

…

However, they had miscalculated the altered Spy’s ability to heal.

He survived…barely.

The BLU Medic wondered where some of his med kits disappeared off to. But it was not worth worrying about for too long.

The former BLU Spy tended to his wounds with a distant demeanor, like running on autopilot. His body dragged him to a dark, sheltered corner of the pipe-ways in the canal, where it felt safe. He was instantly asleep - exhausted, stressed and confused. It was only after he was out of danger, and had a full night’s sleep at the bottom of the canal, that he could wake up and really realize what’d become of him and where he was.

“Tut Alor…..”

He gawked at himself, and tried to push it away like he could escape from his own body. HIS body, that writhing mass was part of HIM. He tore off his tattered pinstripe suit to inspect himself fully, to touch and confirm it was real. He thought he was still wearing his thin leather gloves, but he could not be because they surely wouldn’t have fit over the webbing that now stretched between his fingers. His hands were the same color as the dark aged leather. The color tapered off just before his elbows into a mass of spots.

He was loosely spotted elsewhere, all along the sides of his face, down his sides...where there was now a set of what appeared to be gills - they had to be considering he was underwater and breathing comfortably. Scraggly frills ran down the once damaged skin behind his arms and backbone.

Then there were the tentacles.

Where his legs used to be, was a massive curling pile of tentacles; large and muscular, like a kraken, with fleshy, prehensile suckers from base to tip. They kind of did their own thing, exploring and gripping to the sides of the pipe and the edge of it where it led to the open water. When he thought of them, or even just one, suddenly they flowed under his conscious control. But as his mind wandered so did the appendages. He distantly watched the tip of one curling over his hand; it was like he was watching someone else. Were these things really...him? Part of his body?

‘…what’s that?'

His head jerked over; a tentacle exploring out into the open water gave him some interesting feedback, something the more primitive part of his brain liked. He darted out, not thinking much about it. Thinking would make him have to come to terms with his current situation. His brain could not handle any more stress right now. But his damaged body, it knew it needed to heal, and to do that it needed energy, it needed food.

A nicely-sized catfish was what he sensed. It was quickly caught with a single tentacle, reeled in, and torn apart, fangs sinking into the sweet flesh. It was a female too, full of eggs. It was delicious to the starving altered Spy. Was it alright to eat the raw meat? Rip and crunch through the bones with his teeth? Running on auto pilot though - he did not think about those things too deeply.

The Spy sank to the bottom, coiling up on himself like a sated snake. Each finger was licked clean for every morsel of the prey. He then suddenly scraped his finger on his teeth, flinching. His teeth were certainly much sharper than they had been before...The Spy lay there nursing the small wound, an inhuman ‘churrr’ escaping his throat.

What had become of him? He tried to recall the past few days in any kind of coherent manner.

He recalled the solider killing him, and Respawn must have picked him up for he was here now…he remembered a BLU doctor who was not their team’s Medic looking him over, and multiple other people in blu colors. He remembered feeling sick, hungry, achy. There was yelling, and talking. He tried hard but it was all a blur.

He also recalled killing people. A good number of people. The memory was a haze of movement and blood. It was part of his job description to kill people. He liked the rush and the danger, stalking and outwitting his mark, the satisfaction of that fatal backstab, and defending himself if his cover was blown. It was like a game sometimes, like hide and go seek; only you die.

He was always professional, cool, collected. But self defense and assignment was one thing. The fact he felt he’d been out of control, couldn’t remember exactly what he did the past day - that greatly disturbed him. That he had killed without deliberation, like some wild animal.

The Spy thought himself an intelligent person, secretive, well traveled, smart, attractive…and a skilled assassin.

But not a monster...

In recent years he was thinking about retiring from the ‘spy business’. He had wants of companionship. To think - a ‘lonely spy’. He could never have a steady lover as a spy; it’d be too dangerous for both of them. He had enough money saved he could have done it after his tour with BLU. Find someone, settle down, and get an apartment in the city. Enjoy cups of tea and coffee at corner café’s in Paris, eat expensive pastries, make love on silk bed sheets.

Why did this suddenly cross his mind?

…maybe because as he looked at himself…he realized he’d never have any of that now.

Dominique crawled back into that safe feeling pipe, tired and overwhelmed. He’d never felt depressed or lost like this, not even when he was captured by the enemy and interrogated, not even when he spent days sitting alone on stake out.

His tentacles pulled his clothes back to him; they made a passable pillow as he curled up into a silently weeping ball.

...

Picture Ref of Domi over at:
http://tf2chan.net/rpg/src/128934466881.jpg
http://tf2chan.net/rpg/src/128934474974.jpg


...


--Part 4--


The Spy huffed as he growled at his Cloak and Dagger and Disguise Kit.

Both had been damaged in the attack. He had not the mechanical ability to fix them, despite trying. The charge on the invisibility watch did not hold through movement, but it would still work with indefinite invisibility while stationary. His disguise kit fritzed randomly; the audio or visual would work but not in tandem, or it would flicker in sunlight. Sometimes it worked perfectly. It was very unreliable.

Being a man of espionage who survived without such tech for over a decade, Dominique figured he’d get by. Getting by, however, consisted of becoming accustomed to his new existence.

That first day, after he got over what he’d become and how he almost died by his own team’s hands…he started slowly exploring his new ‘home’. His idle exploration was also good means to get used to his changed body. Simple swimming seemed to come naturally, instincts no doubt. He skirted along the bottom, walking more so than swimming against the rocks and sticks littering the concrete canal floor. His tentacles poked into every nook and cranny, taking in the texture of the concrete walls, rocks littering the bottom, things he could stop to look at because his lungs weren’t burning with a held breath.

When he paused, or came up on a wall, his mantle flared to grasp, with suckers seeking purchase all on their own, grasping and wanting to explore everything they could reach. This made him somewhat distressed, because it made him feel like he was out of control of his body. He didn’t like that idea of being out of control of anything, especially his own actions. How could he sneak about with wandering limbs? Reasoning, the Spy compared himself to a child learning to walk. A baby couldn’t walk before they could crawl, surely this was no different?

What the Spy did not know, was that imbued into his DNA was indeed just that. The tentacled limbs of octopi arms have little minds of their own, with their own independent nervous systems. The brain delegates orders, while the arm is responsible for deciding exactly how to execute the order. Then the octopus, or in this case the distressed BLU Spy, can give a quick assignment to the arm and then not have to think about it anymore. A side effect of course, is that when not giving them orders, the limbs can tend to wander.

Investigating the canals around the shipping base was fascinating; it was a side of the bases he never got to see. The waterways were a lot more extensive than he imagined - with plenty of hollows to hide in. He liked dark; enclosed and hidden…at least a feeling inside him told him such.

He also had to explore himself.

He knew his anatomy had changed, but the exact technicalities of how he was still breathing and functioning as a living creature were unknown to him. He craned his neck, trying to get a full look at his naked body. All the damaged skin from when he was killed that last time was changed. Scraggly frills on his arms and back were under his control to perk or lower, like a fish. Despite it being impossible for anyone to be around at the bottom of the canal, he glanced about and made sure he had privacy before poking about his lower half.

He ‘lifted up his skirt’ wincing and feeling ill at first seeing all those large suckers on his tentacles where they trailed up towards his torso like spokes of an umbrella. Dominique panicked for a moment, now that he was (mostly) calm, rested, and fed, he could think of secondary things. Finding himself plenty flexible to curl around like looking between his legs, he felt over his lower anatomy. Where was his manhood? All he could figure out by sight was his ‘ass’ - or what was left of it. Merely a crux of those suckers, not in the same position or form as it was before. From what he recalled of animal anatomy, that is where a ‘beak’ would be on octopuses, as it was their mouth, like on starfish or sea urchins. It was funny how all that stuff he learned way back in school suddenly was very helpful.

The Spy slumped against the curve of the large water pipe he was laying in. Was he to suffer yet more indignity? He was quite honest with himself in that like most other men in their mid-prime he had sexual needs, from self gratification to rolling in the sheets with a partner...he couldn’t imagine living without it. Now what could he do? Would he ever feel the same again?

He writhed in frustration for some time, stewing over thoughts.

The Spy then flitted to the surface to distract himself, and considered now what he would do about LAND. He didn’t have legs any longer. Could he even GO on land anymore? He recalled vaguely when he escaped away from those guards; he was running on autopilot during the ordeal. RUNNING, yes he recalled traversing the land somehow...not swiftly, but still...

His frustration only grew as he discovered he not only looked quite aquatic - he WAS very aquatic. With the cool and safe blanket of night, he fumbled through trying to make his tentacles work in a manner for ‘walking’. As he did so, his chest began to feel dry if he breathed air longer than a few minutes - his breaths slowly became shallow and labored as if he had asthma. He quickly slipped back into the water. After a quick soak, he could breathe air just fine. It was to be assumed his lungs needed to be kept moist to work - that was the logical conclusion.

When he breathed underwater, he inhaled water like he would air, but it was exhaled out through the gill slits on his sides. He could feel the cold water passing through him, it was a very natural feeling motion, just like breathing always was, except a lot ‘thicker’. In fact, it was quite pleasant, pleasurable even.

He wished he could see how his inner anatomy had changed...though that made him think of the word ‘dissection’, so he refrained from thinking about it too hard at the moment.

Not to be caught suffocating, the crafty Spy had an idea. He stole a liquor flask from the RED Demoman the next chance he had, when his gibbed body was thrown into the canal. He was the worst Demoman he’d ever seen! Stepped on his own stickybombs. He didn’t NEED to be drinking any more than he was.

The tentaspy cleaned out the metal flask and kept it in his suit, filled with fresh water. He could now sneak about for longer periods of time, though his tentacles required moisture after not much longer than his lungs…they’d grow chapped and leathery like lips in the winter. But it was breathing that was most important. Looking like a drunkard with a habit, Dominique would periodically take inhaling sips from the flask as he snuck around at night. The flask gave him a lot of freedom from his ‘watery prison’, to think how such a simple thing could be so liberating.

Despite the uplift, the Spy was still incredibly frustrated.

It had been almost a fortnight since his new existence...and he was really itching now for relief from that kind of tingle only orgasm could provide. It wasn’t just your usual need, sure men got horny, but this felt raw and beyond him like many things that clawed at his mind now. It was this animalistic, alien heat inside him, and it didn’t help he had no idea how to satisfy it.

He hit a trigger one evening. As he explored behind RED base, he caught a wiff of something like a good meal being cooked; only there was no smell of food. It was the smell of arousal.

Not the odor, but the hormones, the very elements that made it inveigle your senses on a primal level. He peeked into the window there, cracked to the outside as it was a cool, mild evening. There inside was the RED team’s Medic and Heavy, quite intertwined and muffling their cries so as to not have teammates hear through the wall.

A twinge of humor rose in the Spy, thinking about how he’d backstabbed both of them in tandem multiple times, one after the other. Now he was seeing them in such a different light, not ruthless and intimidating on the field, but naked and sweaty, groaning in need.

Though that didn’t change the fact he was there invisible, watching...just...watching. Like some dirty voyeur. Only his expression on his invisibly cloaked face was one of longing and jealousy. HE wanted that...

When he couldn’t watch anymore he sank to the dew damp grass, tentacles coiling up to conserve moisture, but also in aroused confusion. Mon dieu, he could still SMELL them, like some fine perfume. It was intoxicating! He growled softly, a shaky hand removing his water flask from his scraggly pin stripe suit. Half of the water spilled down his face and chest as he tried to inhale a deep breath of it.

Dominique made it back to the canal edge closest to the barracks. He smoothly slid in and sunk to the bottom. The cool water washing through his system helped to douse the passion in his ‘groin’. Maybe...maybe being this ramped up he could achieve some kind of release. Maybe he could –

His train of thought scattered as a shot of pleasure ran through him. He writhed against the canal bottom, back arched to it. A hand instinctively felt downwards, discovering a firm but prehensile appendage – and it wasn’t one of his tentacles.

Seemed he wasn’t missing something after all.

It was incredible, and release him hard and fast as he quickly discovered how amazing it felt to wrap his soft suckers all along his erect length, pulsing and squeezing. He writhed in limp relief, a flurry of low churrrs and growls welling up in his throat.

“Ahhh...ahhhh...” He gasped, gills flaring wide.

If nothing else, at least this was one thing he had regained control of.

...
...
...

-- Part 5 --

But another thing he really wanted…was a new suit.

His pinstriped jacket was torn and bullet hole riddled. He did not like looking so...shabby. He was a spy, not a hobo. And he did not want to be nude all the time, it was highly unprofessional...but most of all...keeping some semblance of humanity was something he was trying to cling to with all his might.

His team replacement that came made for easy pickings. When he was comfortable enough with his ‘walking’ skills, he went for it. While the battle raged on outside during the day, the tentaspy slinked into the base, and snagged a fresh suit from the new BLU Spy’s closet with a curling tentacle.

Dominique took a look at the replacement Spy’s bed…

...that was his bed. Only a month ago, he would sleep there, dry and warm.

Dominique scowled, choking back emotion. He’d been getting a little more emotional then he ever recalled before - maybe it was hormone fluctuations, or the fact he was basically assumed dead and it didn’t matter anymore what outwards appearance he put on.

The pillow and blanket were snatched as well, they were HIS after all. BLU would replace them. The pack of cigs on the dresser was left behind. He had kicked the habit during his physical ordeal. During his attempts at walking he had tried lighting up like he would in the past, stress smoking to ease his nerves – but he got a stinging pain in his gills and such a coughing fit it discouraged all thoughts of smoking again. He reluctantly, and quickly, had to quit cold turkey. With his gills connected to his lungs, exhaling made some air go out through them too. The delicate frimbrae seized like pouring salt in a wound.

He would miss those swirling little smoke rings he used to blow, and the menthol flavor. But his lungs firmly said NO, so it was something else he had to give up.

...

Before heading back to the canal, the tentaspy swooshed into the kitchen like a low moving, tentacled panther. He used the spray wand from the sink to rewet his needy tentacles. He gave a happy, churrring groan of relief. He felt a webbed hand over them, slimy and smooth as they should be...

He was so occupied he almost did not hear the Engineer stumbling in from Respawn.

“Merde!”

Domi hissed to himself as he darted to the first out of the way place he could think of – the top of the fridge and cabinets. There was plenty of space between them and the ceiling to wedge himself. Being still, his faulty Cloak and Dagger worked to make him completely invisible.

It was Dexter…that was the Engineer’s name. He used to be his teammate.

He’d joke with him about sappers whenever they crossed paths in the showers. The man liked to pleasure himself while reading car magazines. He hated the smell of citrus, liked to play solitaire, always wore suntan lotion. These little things he liked to observe of people, when they didn’t know he was there.

If he knew he was alive, would he, or any of his team, still treat him like a teammate? Or would they shoot on sight, and finish the job BLU thought they accomplished?

“Well that’s a hell of thing….is the sink leakin’ again’?” The engineer finally noticed the wet floor. He had come in to grab a drink of water before heading back outside. He checked the sink pipes but all was in order. The Engineer shrugged, it wasn’t a huge deal. Domi sighed in relief as he left.

Better not risk it…he wasn’t in Respawn anymore.

...
...
...

--Part 6--

Months turned into years.

Soon three had passed.

The crews shuffled. Contracts were fulfilled, people left, were killed by faulty Respawn, and new people came over that time. Only a hanful of members were left that would recognize Dominique, if they saw him.

While he WAS good at hiding, there were times he was briefly seen. The results only backed up his fears. Rumors of a ‘tentacle monster in the canals’ became amusing bonfire tales for the teams. But no one really believed anything the drunk Demo, crazy Soldier, poor English speaking Heavy, or eccentric Medic said anyway.

The former spy kept up his love of observation. He’d become quite the voyeur, even more than he was before. It passed the time, kept him a part of things he had to leave behind. Now that he was ‘outside the system’ it was a whole new feeling. He’d hide in corners as long as his drying tentacles could stand. Thankfully, he could sip from his flask without making his faulty cloak flicker.

Dominique took notes on stolen journal paper, and would read them in a hidden, dry alcove deep in the drainage pipes. It was decorated with bits of things he’d take from the bases...anything to feel more human (Anything to remind himself he was human, to not let himself slip into an instinct driven routine).

He only used the alcove to spend time and store things; sleeping was done underwater, always.

From his pillow kept dry inside in a sealed plastic bag, rounds for his revolver, to little things like magazines and empty pop bottles. He’d stack damp cards till they fell over, then play solitaire with them. He’d try to make up new tricks flipping his balisong blade, draw into the concrete moss covered floor with his claws – all while slumped on his stomach with his tentacles draped into the water.

He tried to avoid spinning his revolver barrel idly; he might become tempted to use it.

...

The altered Spy didn’t notice at first how much he ate, but it was actually quite a lot...it was like his metabolism was high, or that he needed more energy to keep running all those tentacles. He knew his blood was slightly bluish, being a deep reddish-purple, what he didn’t know precisely, was he was half blue blooded because of having elements of the copper-bonded blood octopuses have. Octopus blood is a poor carrier of oxygen, which helps explain the animal's sometimes apparent laziness. But Dominique was a fairly active, half mammal. To cope, he merely took in more, so he’d have the energy to pump that blood at the high blood pressure level he needed, as he lacked the three hearts that octopus as the animal possesses to keep up THEIR blood pressure.

Dominique grew disenchanted with fish out of boredom, and he could only steal so much food before people took notice. He tried catching game outside the bases during the cool nights, or when it rained, venturing past the fence where the trains would come in. The trains were starting to come less frequently. Jackrabbits and wild foul made for interesting prey, and quite tasty ones at that.

That was indeed a nice distraction...though one day he tried something else as his taste buds and energy-needy body grew hungry for variety. The first time he plucked a body from the waters where it’d been blown he was disgusted at himself for feeling the urge to eat it, but found the taste…pleasant. He took to killing members he didn’t like, picking off RED’s and BLU’s alike, this lasted for only a few days, and the Spy was sure to kill swiftly and cleanly before he was really seen...

…he went back to fish and jackrabbits soon after.

If he let himself slip too far; he feared he really would become that monster everyone thought he was.

...

The fifth year crept by.

Dominique had somehow avoided being discovered by the BLU scientists who wanted him as a science experiment. And, as of lately, they seemed to not be around much behind the scenes. It was like they were letting the mercenaries have more freedom in their spare time. Or they got the equipment working to their satisfaction, because Respawn was not frying as many people as it used to. It was a rare occurrence compared to when the Spy first came.

Or perhaps they just didn’t care.

Either way, the trains kept coming with supplies, and Dominique would watch them like a perched, invisible vulture up in the station rafters.

He would ride one out if he could, but there is no way he’d survive to civilization, or anywhere with water. There was nothing but half-deserted farmland and grassland as far as the eye could see. The closest river he could see was too far to walk to unless it was raining, if his tentacles could even carry him that far on the rough ground. He tired quickly supporting his weight on land if going more than a short distance.

...

It did not rain much, but Dominique loved it when it did.

Then he could stay out as long as he wanted. It let him wander outside the fences even longer to catch guinea foul and rabbits. The tentaspy had a venom he could inject into his prey, he had found this out in his first year, and now was a master of it. It was far more desirable than squeezing his prey to death in his tentacles, for the mouth feel of the muscles staying intact.

He found it amazing how he could eat all this raw food without getting sick; he had no doubt his body chemistry had changed for that. It reminded him of sushi, that clean, mild taste of fresh meat. It was wonderful how delicious plain, raw meat could taste...

A quick bite of his fangs, and jackrabbit stopped struggling within seconds. It was easy work for his claws and sharp teeth to skin and cut up the creature. He sometimes used his balisong to get a more precise cut, or just to feel more refined, feel more human even though no one was watching.

Picking flesh off the jackrabbit’s leg like it was a buffalo wing, Dominique lazed his tentacles over the nest he’d made in a high corner of the BLU base, which resembled a factory on the outside. A large, broken pipe made for a lovely high perch to watch people. He’d dragged fabric and grasses up there over the years, and with some jugs of water he could stay up there for hours even when it was not raining, as the padded scoop held water like a wading puddle.

With the bases rainy and the factory buildings lit up for the evening, it was actually rather beautiful.

It reminded him of Paris...be it a run down, industrial, rusty Paris (with a healthy dose of imagination). With all the little runner lights through the fog of the rain, he tried to picture the factory tower by RED Base as the Eiffel tower....maybe if he squinted. The lit building and warehouse windows were like the city lights.

Trying to toss the rabbit bones into a rusty bucket on the next catwalk down, Dominique sighed and stared again at that distant river like he had many times before. He thought while idly flicking his balisong open and closed in a twirling motion.

CLICK, chink...CLICK, chink....Click click CHINK....

Maybe he really should try to make it to the ocean...maybe he could get to the Mediterranean, or the coast outside Europe. “That’s where you could go, back where you came from, yes?” He thought, “But that is very far...would you make it out there?”

He’d traveled the world; he was not in need of sightseeing. It’d be no different than where he was right now.

He’d still be just as limited by his aquatic nature and faulty disguise kit, and he’d still be an invisible tentaspy spying on people. He couldn’t sit in his favorite corner café, he couldn’t woo anyone, and he couldn’t enjoy a glass of wine on a hotel balcony. Besides, would Paris be...if he was alone?

...
...
...

--Part 7--

Then one day, the current RED Engineer accidentally walked in front of his own sentry as it was firing at a BLU. Respawn fried him.

A new RED engineer came.

Dominique observed him as he did every new team member, starting a ‘file’ on the individual.

The Engineer’s name was Lance; He was American, and southern – this one was from Austin Texas specifically. Short, 5’ 4”, stocky build, velvet fuzzed head with dirty blond hair. Because of the heat during the day, he didn’t always wear the team colored RED shirt, so you could see his light scruff of chest and armpit fuzz poked out from under his not-so-formfitting reddish brown overalls.

This engineer was a little bit aloof, not unfriendly, just...he seemed to avoid the larger classes and keep to his workshop when the day’s fighting was over, though he also spotted the man getting to know his teammates over a few bottles of beer to grease the social gears. Very laid back but not cocky, though he seemed to like to joke he was ‘the better man’ when ever he got the best of a BLU.

Of course he was a genius of machinery. Though, this engineer seemed more artist than mechanic when compared to other engineers…he spent long hours drawing detailed blueprints, and crafting a design that was sleek and beautiful, not just functional. A form to follow function, and a function to the atheistic beauty of the form. For a man like the Spy, who was accustomed to the art of the Louvre and the romantic nature of his homeland, it stirred interest and a sense of sophistication he admired.

The Tentaspy continued his observations into another week. To his amusement many of the fancy designs of the Engineer did not work; or would be too weak overall to withstand heavy combat (he used bulkier designs during the day’s fighting, a lot of the special designs were done on the side, though his sleeker designs often built quicker). The man was entertaining in his artistic frustration, but the Engineer kept at it.

The notes went down in Dominique’s journal files. Everyone had secrets, and he wanted them all. New team members held his attention for a while, distracted him from his boredom and loneliness. Then it’d be back to the same routine...

But there was something about the new Engineer’s eager creativity that kept the tentaspy’s attention. Dominique found himself watching the man a little more closely than usual.

...
...
...
166 posts omitted. Last 50 shown.
>> No. 6301
I myself also dislike heavy accents in writing (I try to keep Domi's French accent minimal for example), yea I could tone it down/switch it up a little for the Medic, I'll take it to mind. Sorry about anybody who thought it was too much. I've seen WAY heavier then what I'm doing, and yea those are unreadable. No thank you indeed.

>>160 I concur, and save them up, he'll need more later too...
>>161 There was never a more true statement
>>162 <3 (Now we'll have to see how he acts on it)
>> No. 6427
I have to admit, this is just... brilliant. Simply, utterly brilliant. I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS. The accents are no real problem for me, though I did notice the inconsistencies...

But really, this is awesome. It's seriously hard to overstate my satisfaction. Best. Tentaspy. Fic. Ever.

Bumping because this should be given a medal.
>> No. 6428
while I agree this fic deserves a medal, that bump was heartbreaking. reeeeaally looking forward to the next update!
>> No. 6431
>>169 die
>> No. 6435
Let me just sob quietly in a corner. This is heartbreaking.

Please update soon.
>> No. 6484
Your writing had gotten better with a beta, but there are a number of things you need to work on - primarily grammar, and awkward sentence structure. There are a lot of little things like
Domi flinched again as drops of wet smacked him in the face that could be simplified for easier reading, e.g., "Domi flinched again as wet drops smacked him in the face."

Also, in
Infirmary lights blinded him for a moment as he blinked his eyes open, even though they weren’t that bright.
It makes it sound like his eyes 'weren't that bright', rather than the lights - or makes it more easily misinterpreted as such. "The infirmary lights weren't that bright, but they still blinded him momentarily when he first blinked his eyes open," would directly associate 'not that bright' with the lights, and reduce confusion.

Another thing I see you doing a lot is using the phrase, 'in the manner of'. For example,
It was said in a half angry half bittersweet manner of ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
is one of many. This also reads rather awkwardly. An easier way of putting it would be, "The half-angry, half-bittersweet manner seemed to say, 'why didn't you tell me?'"

I would recommend reading back through your chapters before you submit them. If you see sentences that maybe don't look quite right, read them out loud - if it's awkward or unnatural to speak, reading it will probably be the same.

I'm also going to agree with those saying that the accents are a little overdone. When accents get so heavy that they become awkward to read, it's almost better to just note that the person uses a thick *insert nationality here* accent when they speak a line. It still lets the reader 'hear' the accent without making it difficult to read.

I am also deeply curious as to why, if BLU thought this Medic was such a drain on resources (or harming their cause) they didn't just take him out back and shoot him.
I am glad, however, that Lance is upset at what was a genuine betrayal of trust - that's very realistic, and I'm hoping it stays that way.
>> No. 6776
This post has been deleted.
>> No. 6777
Oosh. Format fail. Rough. Good update though.
>> No. 6778
Sorry for the epic delay on this chapter, I was super busy the last few days. Beta by Jeffian, thanks!

[ Part 21 ]

Dominique didn’t know if it was the drugs or the sheer mental exhaustion, but he finally passed out into a merciful but restless sleep.

He was awoken the next morning by a distant shuffling of medics, strapping on their gear for the day’s battle. He could hear talking, echoing like vertigo inducing waves. He was vaguely aware of a medic checking him over to make sure he was stable. It was him...

Domi wanted to cry out, to scream in anger at the man responsible for derailing his life, but Domi didn’t have time to wake up enough to gather the energy to do so, because there was a sharp needle prick, and all was darkness again.

When he was next aware, Domi felt a pressure being let off his head.

“I put you on an IV drip to keep you out, no need to have you thrashing about in here all day while ve fought off ze BLU’s.” A German voice stated as the words came into focus.

Although Domi’s mind was weak and disoriented, his instincts were not. They felt restraints being let off, so they struck with strong immediacy.

ESCAPE.

The tentaspy shot up off the table with a flashing of teeth and erect frills, making him look especially menacing as he snarled. He didn’t get far though; a strap caught his chest at a certain point - which resulted in a sound similar to a dog’s choke chain being tugged.

Domi was still tightly restrained with leather straps at his wrists and a belt wrapped around his torso like a leash, resulting in only being allowed into a sitting up position. His hands were tight to the table at his sides, allowed little range of movement, or chance to fight back. While his upper half was tense, his tentacles were completly disconnected from his actions, calmly lazing about as if nothing had changed.

He thrashed a little longer, testing the strength of the binding, eyes wild and teeth bared. The Medic was at a safe distance, watching with interest. Domi finally settled into a hunched over posture, arm and back frills gradually sinking. A low growl rumbled from him like an idling car engine. Lucidness ebbed back into his eyes, the feral look vanishing. But the anger did not, and that gaze was fixed right on the medic standing there.

He then noticed the other doctor was there too, watching with horrified fascination. It was not Domi’s intention to look menacing towards HIM, but it wasn’t hard in his current state, with curls of damp hair falling over his forehead as he hoarsely breathed around the respirator tube.

“Mein Gott,” Doc echoed, staring, “Sure you aren’t taking pointers from zie Snipah for animals? You seem to be good around him.”

“You flatter me Herr,” The Medic told his superior officer, ‘Mmm it vas quite impressive to come out of sedation so quickly, and in his current state.’ he thought to himself.

“Vhell at least I’ll be leaving zhis place in good hands. I’m overdue for a transfer, as you know. And so is Boleslav.” the other replied.

No doubt that the Medic had not told the current doctor his past. Domi could tell it all right then - a former BLU now working at RED. Treason, betrayer, possible double agent...

But he was only a monster, and an active BLU to their knowledge, why would they believe anything he said? Domi sighed in frustration as he just sat there, listening to the others continue to chatter like he wasn’t in the room.

“Leave me alone vith him for zie moment, would you? And save me some dinner, ja?” the Medic said, smiling at his comrade.

The Doc left, and all that crossed Domi’s mind was ‘My God, don’t leave me alone with him...’ That grin the Medic gave his comrade was about as reassuring as a crocodile to the tentaspy. It felt like his sinking heart plunked right into his stomach, which growled quite unhappily in the silence.

“You MUST be hungry;” The medic had heard it. He reached up and shut off the water spray from the hose as he talked, “Based on how I engineered you, your body must burn up a lot of fuel with all those muscular tentacles - even though you’ve been at rest since your capture.”

A myriad of questions ran through Domi’s mind as the insufferable medic prattled on like a science text book, regarding Domi with no more grace of humanity then a child would a fish in a bowl. How could you have done this to me? How did you do this? What will you do with me now? Can you change me back? What will you do with me?

He finally settled on something to say as the medic busied about in the infirmary cabinets, “My name is Dominique.”

“Hummm?” The medic barely glanced back from his supply rummaging.

“I said...my name is Dominique.”

“Ja, I knew that actually; I had it from your file. I knew all zie team’s names. I used to look down upon you all like a bird on a wire through zie closed circuit cameras.”

“Then USE eet.” Domi gave him a stern look.

“You don’t like zie nickname I gave you?” The medic smirked, fitting a mesh over a cup with a rubber band as he walked back over.

Domi didn’t need to reply, his face said it all.

“I now go by Dr. Eppelheim,” He said smugly, “Pity it seems the tech crews like mine are gone now, zie base seems so automated...respawn stabilized for zie most part. Vhell all the better for me, no worry of being discovered, ja?”

The medic wasn’t caring for pleasantries, he had work to do. He’d waited 6 years for this, to finally study the results of his experiment. “Now I’d like a sample of your venom. Unless you give it to me, zhere vill be no food for you today.”

Domi gave a low growl. But it was weak.... It was obvious the state he was in, despite his best efforts to look strong. Even his tentacles moving on their own were sluggish, many barely moving at all, just curled into spirals or suckered stationary around the gurney legs like ribbons on a may pole.

“Just image it’s zie RED Spy, you attacked him, ja? Vhat set you off with him anyway?” It was more of a statement then a question. The medic hovered the cup closer, cautious but knowing he had the upper hand, “Bite through zie mesh. Zie cup will catch it all.”

Dominique recalled seeing a photo like this once; this was how they milked venom from snakes. The prospect of food was very welcoming... But giving into anything this man asked of him made his stomach churn in a different fashion. Should he refuse and hold out longer? Keep his dignity? To what end?

His stomach groaned again and he sighed. Best to keep up his strength. Then if he could get loose, he could escape or fight back.

The tentaspy hissed and curled his lips back, garnering up venom from his glands, which caused a feeling of pressure running up the sides of his neck. He tried to think of someone as he struck down onto the offered cup, but it wasn’t the RED Spy. Translucent liquid lined the bottom of the cup, running from the channels down the backsides of Domi’s fangs where they acted like mini hypodermic needles. It was far more then you’d expect of a snake, close to a tablespoon of fluid.

He jerked back when the deed was done. A thick drool reflexively started at the whole act, only this time there was no prey to eat, so he found himself licking his lips and teeth.

Eppelheim stared with morbid fascination, grinning widely when he had the precious sample, “I bet this will match vhat we got off zie Spy that one night too, I could tell by zie bite... It vas from a human sized mouth.” He began spliting it up into separate sample tubes for further examination of its chemical make up.

Domi slumped back down to the table, which was about as uncomfortable as something could be. He tried to remain stoic. Things could be so much worse...and that anticipation of what was to come was the most horrible.

He didn’t give the Medic the pleasure of any more responses as his tentacles were poked over, testing reflexes, measuring sucker strength, size, and colorations. He stopped watching the scene, staring to the wall instead, tuning everything out. His eyes stung as they started to feel dry as the hour ticked past.

He was suddenly jerked to attention at a sharp pain that dully ached into his being. He looked down, his tentacles were twitching with displeasure, one of the tips had been severed - a good 20 inches cut clean off. Thankfully the epidural-like IV feed cut off almost as many signals getting to his brain as it did them reaching down. Seeing it though, sent phantom pains of what he knew he should be feeling into his psyche.

“These should grow back... Let’s see how many days zhis one takes, mmmm?” The medic took the still writhing tentacle piece and went to put it in to the refrigerator.

“Va te faire foutre!” Domi practically spat, growls welling up in his throat.

“Such language,” The medic sarcastically pouted as he made a specimen jar label, catching the French insult.

“I thought you said you were going to feed me?!” Domi snapped back, not realizing until after he’d said it how animalistic that sounded. He WAS hungry... So much so it was knotting at his insides. That combined with his current state wasn’t doing much to keep him level headed.

“Now zhat you mention it, I never DID eat dinner,” The medic noted.

He left...leaving Domi alone with his thoughts.

How he missed feeling whole - was Domi’s first thought. How long would this disconnected state last? As much as he used to wish to be rid of the things, the tentacles were a part of him, and he’d come to be rather attached to them (in the realization there was no going back). He relied on them, and they’d been his only ‘company’ through the years. Because they acted half of their own accord when not given orders, it was like he had someone else there with him; comforting, inquisitive, tender.

Never had he missed the cool, weightless embrace of the canals more then he did right then, especially as his tentacles slowly dried with the water spray turned off the past hour. He just wanted to fill his lungs with water, feel it coursing through him, sleep in his den in that padded concrete pipe in a coiled bed of tentacles. It was a sad, simple existence, but it was his. It was something he’d learned to take pleasure in, to accept as his new reality. It helped him forget all he’d lost.

He glanced down at the severed tentacle...and how tacky the slime on them was becoming. The medic must have wanted the hose off so he could work on the limbs without them being too slippery. At least his limbs drying out wouldn’t kill him (Though he’d never been past a certain point of dryness...). Had they been in his control he couldn’t walk in them in this state, nor move them with any strength.

His mind kept wandering. And what else was at the forefront of his mind but the situation that put him in such a mess.

Why had he put so much faith so quickly in the engineer? Well, between his passions for building and using weapons of destruction, he was a kindhearted picture of a southern gentleman. Domi looked at him and saw ‘understanding’. A man outcast in his own right as a homosexual hiding amongst a very masculine field, he must feel isolated. There was a feeling of safety that made Domi want to put faith in him, like he could have a chance at something meaningful. Such reasoning only backed up his already eager physical attraction to him, so he took risks and acted foolishly...then his animal instincts kicked in and betrayed him.

Domi could see on his face when they had locked eyes, Lance knew for sure he was the one behind the mask of the RED Spy. And yet his words, and his look, said it all. He didn’t trust him. Didn’t believe anything he did was real. It was understandable... But it still hurt. Even if Lance would give him audience to explain things, would he believe him then either? Or forgive him? Most importantly, could he see past, or accept, his physical condition? Was he so disturbing that he’d never want to talk to him at all? Was he seen as nothing more then an animal?

Eventually the creak of metal signaled the infirmary doors being opened.

“Easy Mein Krake,” The German cooed, walking over.

He weakly sat up into a hunched posture. ‘I dare you to say that with me UNTIED,’ he thought snidely, but with an audible growl.

Domi eyed what the medic had in his hands, a plate of what looked like leftovers from dinner. Cut up bits of chicken covered in BBQ sauce, peas and beans. Typical fare for the mercenaries, filling but cheap food. It was put within reach... did he expect him to eat it off the plate like a dog? He swallowed though, he needed that food. It had been almost 48 hours since he last ate.

“Come now, zhis is for you being good, remember?” Eppelheim grinned.

The hesitation didn’t last long. Domi tried, as dignified as he could, to lick and bite the meal off the plate. But what was a noble effort soon turned into a ravenous attempt to eat as much as he could as fast as he could. The plate was quickly cleared, and the tentaspy was licking meat and bean juice from his lips in a calmed daze.

“Such a good boy,” The medic put it aside.

“I’m not your DOG.” Dominique struck back, the daze dissapearing.

The Medic didn’t seem insulted or remotely threatened, and the fact all his retorts didn’t faze the doctor just made Domi even more frustrated and angry.

“You could be a little more grateful, you should see vhat zie engineers are working on, just for you.” He moved his hand down to the safety of Domi’s paralyzed tentacles, which were tacky with slime. ‘Oh god don’t TOUCH me,’ Domi thought with a wince as Eppelheim curled his finger into some weak suckers. He wanted so badly to snap the man’s wrist in half...if only...

To Dominique’s relief the hose was turned back on, and the medic was sure to soak every inch of him initially. He was told a less then comforting ‘goodnight’...with a promise of ‘more work to be done tomorrow.’

Sleep, he wanted a good nights' sleep so badly. But all he could do was run visions of dissections through his head and stare at the ceiling for the longest time.
>> No. 6779
I'm going to cry. I am so happy that this fic updated.
>> No. 6781
I love this fic with all my heart.
>> No. 6782
aww, I want to find a way to rescue Domi. I love this fic so much
>> No. 6783
Come onnnnnn, Domi! You're still a Spy! You can escape, I know you can!
>> No. 6786
An update! *throws confetti*

Honestly, I think that when this fic is over, a part of me will die. That's how awesome this fic is.

Come on Domi! You can do it!
>> No. 6789
This doctor is disturbing. I'm surprised that Domi doesn't try harder to appeal to the Medic as a fellow person/human, but maybe that would just be a waste of time, huh?
>> No. 6792
Oh man, poor Dominique. This is pretty tough.. I never thought he'd actually be captured.

I hope he can get loose soon! Thanks for the update, and keep it up, please!
>> No. 6796
Oh no ! Domi !

Please lance, just go over and hear the Tentaspy out.... I wish that doctor would choke on his scalpels. Seriously.
>> No. 6821
It's kind of interesting, how the current situations here and in The Dustbowl Horror are so similar, yet so different. Both Medics are very interested in how their experimentation has turned out, both Domi and Spy have no choice but to be there (Domi because he's strapped down, Spy because there are no other water-filled areas). There are only two major differences - Spy has his Sniper there with him while Domi is alone, and the Medic in TDH is enthusiastic (like a kid with a new toy, as an anon said) while Eppelheim is enthusiastic in a way that is... cruel, to say the least.

Wow that was a big TL;DR right there.
>> No. 6823
Agreed, Insecuriosity, on both counts. Although I'm not sure why he'd be trying to swallow his scalpels... ah, well. Who are we to ponder the insanity of a crazed Medic?


Also, just wondering, is the original, non-rewrite still up anywhere? Earlier on a lot of people were talking about how different/similar it is to the original, and I suppose I'd like a comparison.
>> No. 6827
>>186 seconded
>> No. 6829
>>186

Last I checked a couple months ago, it was on Lithe-Fider's ygallery account. I actually have been meaning to go back and read it, myself.
>> No. 6857
ughughuuh this angst is all so delicious
please never stop
>> No. 6870
>>185

There are also two more mayor differences.

The Medic in this fic experimented on his own teammate, and he did it because he wanted to be "recognized for his genius". So he betrayed a person he was supposed to care for, and he did it for his own selfish ends.

The Medic in The Dustbowl Horror experimented on an enemy combatant (which is still technically a war crime, but at least it's not a betrayal), and he did it because he wanted to study the camouflage which could benefit RED Spy (and because of scientific curiosity, since the tentacles were unnecessary). So he used a person he was supposed to attack anyway, and he did it (mostly) for his team's sake.

The situations are very different IMO. Medic in TDH comes across as likeable to me, whereas Medic in this fic should die a slow and painful and permanent death.
>> No. 6879
>>190

Ah, I hadn't really thought about that. You make some very good points.

Also, I concur with your last statement there.
>> No. 6886
Ditto.
>> No. 6887
Well said.
>> No. 7082
This post has been deleted.
>> No. 7083
(((First off - should have an update to you guys by hopefully tomorrow night, if not, not until Monday as I'll be gone all weekend. Been really busy with work/helping on an independent film.)))

Thanks for the referral you guys, I ran right on over to check out Anne's fic and it was very sciency-fun! I will be watching it for sure.

Indeed my medic in this who was once a BLU Respawn tech is not one I intended anyone to like (except love to hate). Your feelings of animosity are well placed. He cares about scientific progress, and if it's at the expense of 'expendable' people that is no matter. He's also selfish and wants his own genius to be properly recognized. I wouldn't call him vindictive, but 'obsessed and crazy' is best words to describe him, lol.

Also it's not looking like Domi will be loose any time soon, but I am not a spoiler giver.

>>182 I'd be a waste of time to Eppelheim, yes. Though Domi should try to appeal to the OTHER medic, 'Doc', who is a far more reasonable human being.
> 186 - >>188 Yes it's up on my Y!, you can check it out if you want, but it's got a very different tone (this one is more realistic and serious, the original is fluffy in comparison, which is necessarily a bad thing, just depends on your want for reading material.) >>189 ohhh yes, angst all over, well deserved tho. Your welcome! heheh
>> No. 7379
I actually have 3 chapters done, so they will be posted as they are final proofed.


[ Part 22 ]

As the RED team gathered for the day’s fighting, many were chatting about the captive in the infirmary. Eppelheim listened out of the corner of his ear. Doc was keeping out of it; as much as he was also fascinated by the strange creature, he’d much rather NOT have a BLU in the base at all. And he picked his cohort’s brain about him as they went along. Perhaps he could sit in when the other medic did a more thorough examination...as long as he was humane about it.

Through it all the RED Spy seemed strangely quiet. He got his coffee and breakfast, turning to leave and eat elsewhere.

“Herr Spy.” The Frenchman was stopped by a thick vinyl gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Docteur?” The Spy glanced at the medic. ‘Oh here it comes...’ he thought, knowing exactly what the topic would be.

“They say it vas you who lured zie BLU creature in, ja? How exactly did you do it?”

“Since when did a spy reveal his secrets?” He said cryptically, like he didn’t have much desire to talk to the man. He’d heard some of the noises coming from the infirmary, and he’d seen how he had the BLU strapped down. As much animosity as he had towards him for stealing his face, those things were haunting, and it made him fear the new medic a little.

“Did you have some reason to be mad at him? Considering you stole some of my tranquilizer sedatives to take him down...”

“OH heh,” He laughed innocently, “Sorry about that docteur. And oui, do you recall when I came into the infirmary with that bite? Also when I came in weeth all ze scratches and broken ribs?”

The medic smirked. “I did correlate those two in my mind...so it vas him?”

“Oui. And yes, I theenk that is plenty motive enough.” The Spy wanted to appease the medic with little information as possible. He didn’t want to betray his promise to the engineer, so that meant keeping all else about his interactions with the tentacled spy secret.

“I’d suppose so...” Though the medic still wondered why his creature would attack the Spy. If he’d been hiding all these years, he must have not revealed himself much if ever. To have so brashly bitten and gone after the Spy on two separate occasions, he must have had a good reason to... “Are you healing alright? No further side effects?”

“All seems well, merci. You two are very skilled,” The Spy sipped his coffee, “Now eef you’d excuse me Docteur, I would like to eat my breakfast before ze battle.” He hurried off.

‘He’s hiding something...’ the medic thought, though he wasn’t sure what. He’d keep an ear out.

...

“Why did you ‘ave to go and drag the whole team over?” The RED Spy huffed as he sat on a wooden crate up in the Sniper’s roost, which was on the top floor of the RED’s factory building. “Now ze Medic has that theeng tied up in ze infirmary and is grilling me for details I do not want to give. Eet’s annoying.”

“You didn’t know how well that tranquilizer would work! He could’ve turned on you any minute, dragged you roight off into the water, maybe to BLU. Sure seemed like he was tryin’ to take you when I saw him attakin’ you before that. A wounded animal is the most dangerous kind, you know.” The Australian struck back, his own breakfast in his lap.

It had begun to be a common thing for them to eat breakfast together, away from the hubbub of the team. Soon as the RED Spy knew where his little hideaway was he started sneaking up there for the quiet privacy, and the company. One would wonder why the two would want to spend time together from how they acted around one another - chiding, threatening, and bickering. Well, they do say opposites attract.

“I was only being cautious,” The sniper added in a mumble, pulling his hat down a bit.

“You’d miss me too much eef BLU caught me, is that eet?” The Spy pet a pointed shoe toe up under the Australian’s loose pants cuff, an impish smirk on his lips.

“Bloody spook.” Sniper grabbed his ankle with a strong hand, plate put to the side. It seemed like he just meant to throw him off, but he teased right back, pushing the Spy’s pant leg up and giving his sock garters a good snap.

The Spy shook loose, giving a flinch. “Well at least for ze first time in weeks I had a full night’s sleep. That is ze one advantage to knowing the BLU’s science experiment is strapped down.”

“You ought to have slept up here mate, I’d have watched over you,” The Sniper said in a low drawl.

“Derik, pleaseee. Much as I respect your...stories of conquests of big animals and don’t doubt that ability, your bed is a little...well...” He glanced at the sheet-less mattress on the floor of the loft room, a thin dingy blanket strewn across it.

“Wot? Fine enough for shaggin’ but not for sleepin’ over, that it?”

“I’ll bring you a SHEET at least, ‘ow about that, non?” He couldn’t help but snort in a laugh.

“Shut ya gob, Raimund. Bloody snoot, that wot you are. Picky ass poofer.”

His grumbling was stopped short as the Spy came and straddled his lap, putting a gloved hand to his chin. “I’ll bring a fresh sheet set tonight, oui?”

....
...


“Not done yet?” Eppelheim leaned against the doorframe of the workshop, looking rather sharp with his vest and dress shirt. He cleaned up well after the daily battles and surgeries. He didn’t look impatient at least—that would have annoyed the engineers. They were working like busy bees for the third afternoon on the tank-like structure designed to hold their special BLU prisoner.

“Murphy’s Law,” William gestured with a rolled up blueprint, “We only got so much time and energy after the day’s battle.”

“Ahh right, right.” The medic ventured closer, looking the build over. “Dankeschön, by zie way, this is much appreciated.”

“It’s taking so long because William is implementin’ some new technology he was working on,” Lance flicked up his welding mask to talk, “It’s really quite amazing.” He gave a nod to his team mate.

William looked quite pleased, like he knew how genius it was, but he also stayed humble at the same time. “I’ve been developin’ an energy field of sorts using magnets and alternating current, something to protect builds while they construct or for manual adjustments on the fly. It drains a lot of energy so you can’t get too much outta it on the field at a time, but for the purpose on this tank it could be maintained easily with a constant, low energy flow from a wall plug in.”

He tapped the rolled up blueprints on a series of covered transformers on the side of the tank. “It will prevent ‘im from poking any of those limbs of his through the wire mesh on top or breakin’ this plexiglass. ‘Cause strong as it is, I don’t trust it to hold that devil.”

“Wunderbar!” The medic exclaimed, severely impressed. They could have used someone like William back when Respawn was new. “This is really too vonderful.”

“We like a challenge.” Lance smirked, seeing the others nod in agreement.

“We live fer this kind of stuff,” Roscoe agreed, “Folk like us.”

“Keep at it. You will be done by tomorrow then?”

“Should be done tonight I reckon,” William agreed, “But you might not be able to move him in ‘till morning— depends on your schedule.”

“Vielen Dank!” The Medic thanked them, “Ja, just tell me soon as you are ready,” and then left them to their work so he could get to HIS work.
>> No. 7380
Three chapters? Yay!
>> No. 7381
Yay an update! So he's not suffering too much since the old Medic is still around right? I like how Red Spy is feeling weirded out by the new medic a bit.
>> No. 7383
Don't mind me, I'll just be in the corner, refreshing madly.
>> No. 7384
F5 F5 F5!
>> No. 7385
Time to make a new one, OP. Before it starts auto-saging,

Congrats, btw!
>> No. 7386
I must away to bed but I'll leave you with this cliff hanger for now, heh. >>201 I'll make a new thread when it does auto-sage, and I will post all the chapters thus far in it too so it's all together. The repost will also include a fix of the 'info-dumping' and some other errors, keeping some in an author note and other bits better worked into the wording.

Warning, little bit of surgery guro in this part.


[ Part 23 ]

Dominique was brought out of his sedation, the infirmary cleared for the evening, all bullets and shrapnel removed, and the tables cleaned. He was met with a plate of food, kept out of reach.

“I have more questions for you.” The eager medic smiled as he let the man’s restraints off just enough like the other day.

Domi groaned dryly, sitting up in a haze. He gave a croak of a response, glancing at the food, and leaned forward, limply hanging by his restraints like wasn’t quite awake yet. He fell back to the table, looking disinterested, pale, and weak. His breathing was dryer than ever.

“Hummm.” Eppelheim fussed, hearing this. “Even with zie respirator giving you a steady trickle of fresh water you still seem a little dry in your throat...I can’t up zie flow and still have you able to speak, but...” He took the hose from its mount, turning off the valve. He unscrewed the nozzle, and then turned it back on, this time it was like a plain garden hose with a thick flow of water. He put it right over the half conscious tentaspy’s face and parted lips.

Domi jerked against his restraints at the feeling, opening his mouth wide. A glorious coolness filled him, fresh oxygen rushing to his system as water gushed past his gills, a far more efficient method of oxygen exchange for the tentaspy. His eyes rolled back in relief as he reveled in the feeling. When the water was turned off, he gasped far more smoothly as the water drained from his lungs, switching over to air breathing. He moaned softly after every deep breath, reeling.

“That’s definitely something I need to find zie problem with,” The medic put the spray nozzle back on, “So it can be fixed in zie future.” He mumbled as he took the plate of food again, “Zhat feel better?”

“O...oui,” Domi answered, sitting up and swaying a bit.

The medic grilled him with questions, like if he could change his tentacle skin color at all (‘a little at times, but not like an octopus, no.’), how efficient his gills felt (‘quite good’), how well he could see underwater (‘perfectly fine’), how sensitive his tentacles were to taste feedback (‘focusing on it, indeed receptive almost as much as a tongue’)...

Domi answered everything—not enthusiastically, but that food was a good lure—and he was feeling in a better mood after that jolt of water. God that felt wonderful. Would he get to be in water again soon? He wanted it back more then anything...it was this primal need welling up from inside him, overtaking most of his thought. Just being kept moist wasn’t enough.

He was finally given the meal; some sense came back to his mind instead of just running on autopilot.

“Everything going all right?” A voice came from the door, accompanied by a small knock.

“Doctor! Ahh yes, everything is fine.” Eppelheim grinned. However, inside he was not smiling. He wanted privacy so he could work unmediated...

Dominique listened with a heavy heart as the two talked. Eppelheim explained to Doc about how he wanted to do a dissection while he still had him strapped down and half sedated. The other agreed, but said he wanted to stay and observe, also to make sure proper precautions were used; he said he’d been worried with some things he’d heard coming from the infirmary.

Wait, dissection?

“Don’t I get a say in this!?” Domi blurted out, voice shaky. God he hated how pathetic he sounded.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” The medic snapped back, though of course in reality he’d never want him killed. “Surely, besides study are we not to interrogate the enemy for information? Being a Spy he must know a lot!” Eppelheim reasoned to his comrade.

“If you overload him, then he von’t be useful for anything when he’s catatonic. I trust your expertise, but your overzealous eagerness vhorries me.” The doctor waved a finger. “And enemy or not, I’ll have no outright torture going on in MY infirmary by way of medical carelessness.”

Much as Eppelheim didn’t like it, it WAS still HIS infirmary; the older doctor was his senior there in rank.

“And don’t you get any ideas.” The doctor glanced at Dominique, who was giving him the most pleading face possible while keeping his dignity. “You are a BLU. I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for you. You are not some innocent caged animal; I’ve seen vhat you did to our Spy. My oath is to this team, and you are a threat to their health and safety. I intend to learn vhat we can to have knowledge to protect that.”

Eppelheim couldn’t contest THAT, so he agreed. Dominique hung his head; in his position he couldn’t make the Doc believe otherwise, he was a BLU, shown to have indeed hurt the RED Spy. He was ‘the enemy’.

...

Preparations were made. Dominique’s heart beat rapidly as he glanced around from his restrained position on the table. The doctor had said he wanted this to be ‘humane’, thank god. Who knew what would have become of him had he been alone with the other medic.

Would he be awake? Put under? Would he...see what they were doing to him?

The doctor brought over a large rig attached to the ceiling. The medigun he usually used during the day was attached to it. He positioned it carefully, adjusting some dials on the side. Eppelheim watched carefully; he was still a little new to the mediguns—using them that is. He saw plenty of them on the cameras while working behind the scenes.

The device was switched on, the red vapor beam reaching out toward the strapped down tentaspy. “I had to calibrate it to be able to latch onto someone not in zie RED’s respawn system,” The medic told his comrade, “How it’s set is more like a ‘mist’ then a beam anyway.” He cleared the air bubbles from a prepared syringe and jabbed it under Domi’s chest skin subcutaneously. The captive winced and twitched, but as the thick flush of the medication spread, it combined with the medigun’s warm glow, creating a feedback reaction in his cells.

Dominique could still feel, but nothing ‘hurt.’

“Ah ah, vhait,” The medic stopped his superior from placing a mask with nitrous over the captive’s face, intending to knock him out, “I need him awake for this part, before we crack him open.”

Dominique violently wrenched at the restraints at this, a feudal reaction to his want to get away. His tentacles, if only...he squeezed his eyes shut trying with all his might to make them respond. It was no use...

“Shhhh, shhh, this shouldn’t hurt vhith how we’ve set you up,” Eppelheim crooned, reaching a clean, bare hand down and picking up the top gill slit closest to him. Domi could just barely see what he was doing, but he could FEEL it...

His mouth gaped with unpleasant gurgles as his gill slits were painfully stretched wide. It...yes it didn’t hurt...he was right about that. But it was an unpleasant alien feeling that disturbed him to his core. The stretching intensified as the medic wedged his fingers into the top slit, further, further, until his knuckles hit the flap of the gill slit under it. A trickle of blood dripped down from the damp fimbriae, damaged by the intrusion.

“Nnnggg!” Domi clenched his teeth, fists doing the same.

“Vhen we open him up we should be able to see a connection right to his lungs, I can feel zie valve here; it feels almost like a large, tricuspid heart valve. Here,” The medic pointed to his comrade, having him douse the hose over his face again like before. With his hand blocking the valve, all the water flowed out of the opposite side gill slits.

“Tell me, vhat does that feel like?” The medic asked with curiosity.

“I...I would assume eet would ‘urt a lot more w-without that medigun running...” Domi sputtered as the water was removed.

“I wonder how his lungs look to compensate for that,” The doctor added, not worried that it could actually be painful with his medigun rigged up as it was, “Come let’s get started,”

The mask returned, a hand holding it over him was all Dominique could see as everything went into a fuzzy blur.

...

In his delirium Dominique thanked the Doc for his mercy, if it wasn’t for him, who knows if Eppelheim would have used anesthesia at all. ‘Thank you thank you,’ he mouthed, not even aware he was trying to speak out loud.

There was the whine of an electric sternum saw. He could vaguely feel a pressure in his chest, a movement and tickling like the caress of fingertips. He heard pleased laughter, voices, discussing and taking photographs. That warmth from the medigun felt so good...keeping a pulse in his veins and blood regenerating in his body, even as it flowed off the table when his heart was removed. Room had to be made to see elsewhere...

When the mask was removed, it could have been minutes or hours, Dominique lost all sense of time. He blinked as the nitrous went out of his system as fresh air entered his damp lungs. “You’re a successful creature indeed,” Eppelheim pet his head briefly, meanwhile the other doctor was tending to his medigun.

Dominique was able to catch a glimpse of his exposed organs before the medigun was ramped up to full power. It was like some out of body nightmare, because it didn’t hurt, but he knew it should. He screeched in horror, even as his chest closed up and his ribs snapped back together.

The doctors left to let their patient rest, and to clean up and get dinner, the doctor scolding the other medic for bringing him out of sedation a little too soon.

Dominique breathed deeply, chest heaving. That chest had been open just minutes before. Miracle of mediguns or not, that was something he never wanted to see. ‘Mon dieu mon dieu mon dieu...’ he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture everything they had been doing, trying not to piece it together in his mind. He struggled again, tiring quickly, eyes shut with exhaustion and vertigo.

He tried to imagine something pleasant. Floating on his back in the river on a clear night, watching the stars. You could see so many out there in the desert, even with light from the bases. The night was cool and damp. His tentacles splayed out in the water, some anchoring him to the riverbank, others down to the bottom where unwitting young fry pecked at his skin like a massaging tickle. Too small to be eaten anyway...

Dominique heard the infirmary door open again. That sound made him flinch, ‘He’s coming back...no no noo...please...no more!’ His mind instantly raced in anticipation.

But there was no German tone - in fact no talking at all...but there was a familiar, favorable smell that included burnt steel. Domi turned his head to confirm the presence he sensed there.

There was Lance, silent and just a foot away at the side of the exam gurney.
>> No. 7388
Oh, DAMN that cliffhanger!
My heart is in my throat and my hands are shaking-!
AH! I can't go to sleep like this!!
>> No. 7393
A Lance-Domi confrontation in the next chapter?! Ugh, I can't wait!
And poor Domi, having to endure that vivisection.
>> No. 7399
I am so ready for more. Eppelheim is legitimately frightening to me, and I'm really glad Doc was there to keep things from getting too grotesquely out of hand.

But now that Lance is there... I'm just dying to hear their conversation. They really need to talk and get everything out in the open. Because they just have to get together. I just love them so much.

I cannot wait for the next part. You are amazing. Thank you so much for writing this.
>> No. 7412
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-more!

That was the least disturbing dissection I've read about. The TF2 fandom is lucky to have the medigun.
>> No. 7431
(All there parts beta'd by Kuhzka.)

Sorry to be the cliffhanger masochist, but finally, this is what has been waiting to be said.

[ Part 24 ]

There was tension in the air you could almost taste. The engineer and the spy locked eyes as they glanced about each other.

Dominique’s urge to speak grew more and more as the seconds stretched into minutes. ‘He’s HERE...say something!’ he thought. But in his current condition, he felt about ready to pass out with the added stress. It was a horrible dual feeling. His heart leapt to see the engineer there of his own accord, it was a ray of hope he needed so desperately, but at the same time he wished he wasn’t there—not now. He was a frazzled, poorly slept, inadequately fed monster strapped to a table with such indignity. How could he make any kind of redeeming proclamation in such a state?

Lance looked like he wanted to speak, but finally he motioned to leave, having said nothing.

“Cheri, wait!” Domi cried out quickly, desperately.

The engineer stopped and turned, coming back to the side of the gurney. “Now...now why would you say that? Think you can really keep that charade up?” He sounded accusing, but shaky, like he didn’t want to be mad.

Domi did his best to speak clearly and calmly, but it wasn’t easy with his throat closing up with emotion on top of the respirator tube wedged back there. “S'il vous plait, let me explain. Firstly...eet may be ‘ard to believe, but I’m not employed by BLU. At least not anymore. I ‘ave no bad intentions for your team, I’m not ‘ere on a mission.”

“But yer uniform - ”

“I was weeth BLU, oui - over six years ago. Back then Respawn was a new technology, I think they were experimenting weeth eet. One day...I woke up from Respawn like this.” His eyes were attempted calm, but they were bloodshot, tired, pleading. “They tried to dispose of me. But I escaped, and ‘ave survived ‘ere at ze base ever since...keeping under ze radar. They think I am dead.”

The engineer listened...the story sounded plausible. He wanted to believe it. That BLU was experimenting with Respawn could be true. He knew he was scanned and had blood samples taken upon coming there to RED. They of course never told him the details of how Respawn worked, but it sure had something to do with bio-patterns, DNA, the like. Maybe they toyed with it, doing things against nature, messing with the patterns.

“So everythin’ you said...you pretendin’ to be our spah?”

“He was the most convenient to impersonate. Similar body type, someone I could act like myself and eet would not seem out of place. That’s why I ‘ad you fix my disguise kit and cloaking watch, you theenk I could really go up to you, anyone, like this? And eef I was weeth BLU why would I put on a trick to ‘ave you fix my gear?”

“I - I don’t know.” Lance remained skeptical, but he listened to everything, and the Spy sounded sincere. His tone and how he was looking at him.

“What happened right after you fixed ze disguise kit?” the tentaspy asked.

Lance thought...remembering around the same time Boleslav gave him that metal and he was able to make that new build with it.

“Your ‘eavy gave you some metal, didn’t he?” Domi said it before Lance could.

“Y...yea.” The engineer felt a chill of realization.

“That wasn’t Boleslav.” Domi tried to smile. “All this began weeth me just wanting to DO something...I’ve been so idle and bored and alone for so long. When I over’eard you talking about wanting to get your hands on some BLU metal I decided to take action. Eet was just a leetle thing, but once I had a taste of being back in ze action I kept going. And you...YOU were what made me want to. Everything I said, that I did was sincere...I promise...”

“How kin I believe anything you say?”

Really how could he? What proof did the Spy have? ‘Maybe he really is a BLU renegade, working alone. Imagine for a minute everything he said is the truth. And he did all this, just to get closer to you. He risked himself, because he loves you...’

Dominique felt desperate, exhausted...how else could he prove himself? He had nothing but his word. He didn’t even have actions at that moment, strapped helplessly to a table, half paralyzed, every muscle aching. His body trembled with frustration as he writhed against the restraints. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I lied to you and deceived you...Je suis vraiment désolé... désolé...” Domi cursed himself for how pathetic he sounded, especially as tears squeezed from his eyes, but he felt like he had nothing left. Nothing was right and everything had gone wrong. It didn’t matter.

“I just wanted to get closer to you...I just wanted to be closer...” He was practically delirious as he rasped the words.

Domi could just make out of the corner of his eye something coming near. He shied away out of confusion and reflex in anticipation of harm. But then he watched silently as the engineer softly stroked the back of his fingers over his cheek. Dominique melted into that touch, closing his eyes and shuddering out a breath with a look of disbelieving joy. He wasn’t even sure if it was real or he was hallucinating. But he needed it so badly.

‘His face,’ Lance thought, expression cracking a bit as he too choked up. Such a reaction he received, surely this all could not be fake...

He’d made the decision to trust in what the Spy said, at least for now. The engineer would remain cautious, but open.

In that moment, he felt a wash of happiness seeing the other’s expression. He really did have a nice smile, different from their Spy of course. And while he’d come to fall in love with that face, now having talked to this spy even just this briefly, he heard the ‘RED Spy’ in him, he saw the man he’d come to fall for. This face... could come to grow on him, as well.

“Petit,” Domi purred, nuzzling into the touch like he could fall asleep right there. “Je t'aime tellement...” An actual purr welled up in his throat.

Lance recognized it; he’d heard that before in the ‘RED Spy’. He figured it was just talented voice box work, but now seeing him like this, it was fitting and obvious how he made such sounds.

Of course it raced past Lance’s mind, ‘what are you doing, LOOK at him.’ But if the Spy’s dedicated, sincere feelings (not to mention dashing good looks...) were desirable enough to Lance to make him feel so strongly, then his physical nature was something he could at least begin to deal with at a later point in time. He couldn’t deny he’d very much liked the affections ever since day one when ‘the RED Spy’ started courting him.

The whole situation was already very atypical; the engineer decided he’d roll with things as they came.

“Don’t even know yer name,” He chuckled, “You spah’s never give that kind of thing out.”

“Dominique,” the tentaspy looked up at him, “My name is Dominique, mon chéri.”

“It...it’s a pleasure to meet you Dominique.” The engineer pet over his damp hair this time, “I think you already know my name.”

“Ze pleasure is all mine,” Domi whispered, his demeanor so calm now. He leaned back into that gentle hand as it went back to his face.

“The doc might be back any minute; we’re installing that tank he requested tonight. I hope...that it’ll be better for ya. I’ll admit, it looks mighty terrible what they been doing to you in here,” He swallowed, “Even if you were th’ enemy or not.”

The engineer finally removed his hand, he felt bad to leave the man in such a state, and he couldn’t deny it felt mighty nice. Domi went far as he could to follow the touch. ‘Please don’t go,’ he was thinking, but Lance was right, there was no way they could catch him looking sympathetic.

He watched the RED Engineer make his leave, giving him one last glance before he closed the infirmary door.

A chance, he was being given a chance...
>> No. 7432
I literally waited all day for this. I haven't even read it yet, but I'm so excited I had to say thank you for posting.
>> No. 7436
I desperately want fanart of purring Domi.
And I desperately love this story. Lithe, you're such a great writer.
>> No. 7440
I have been waiting for this moment ever since Domi was captured. Part of me feels like maybe Lance let him off a little easy, but I kind of am taking that as partly his own broken heart looking for any reason to forgive.

And I was seriously very near tears at the end of the chapter. I honestly cannot praise you enough for the way you've written this story. Magnificent. Eagerly awaiting the next installment, whenever it may come.
>> No. 7444
I totally agree with everything >>210 said right there. I am very excited that this chapter marks a (hopefully not just temporary) turn for the better!
>> No. 7451
No chapter, up until this point, has made me this happy and excited for your characters. Keep up the fantastic work!

(I'm also so happy I caught up 3 chapters and didn't have to wait over that dreadful cliffhanger at the end of 23, pheew!)
>> No. 7459
>>209 I've drawn nuzzling Domi before but mmmmm purring, gotta do that next.

>>210 I was worried for that too, but here is all my reasoning I put through my mind that made things write as the did in the chapter, and it seemed right to me: yes Lance WAS also searching for reasons to back up that his gut feelings, no one likes to be wrong, especially when it comes to love (Ego hit of the century). That, and just look at the state Domi was in, Lance was being extra compassionate at the moment. But trust me he's not right back to 'everything's cool' lovey mode. He doesn't exactly look at the tentacles with lust, haha, but they don't disgust him either, so he figured 'well he's in such a state right now, I'll bring all this up later...' Also Domi had given him reason to keep believing he wasn't a liar in how he looked at him the last two times Lance saw him in his true form.

Thanks so much for the feedback guys, that's what has made this so much better as it comes along, and it also keeps me at this on a regular basis to know people are really rooting for the two. :)

>>211 Overall I think it does, but Domi is not out of 'hot water' yet (okay terrible pun).

Also next time I post I'll be making a new thread, I think this one is auto-saging or close to it. (All the chapters thus far will be put in it too for ease.)
>> No. 7469
202
"...iolently wrenched at the restraints at this, a feudal reaction to his want to get away."

Derp.

Regardless, just wanted to say I've been lurking on this story since I came here; my tentaspy tastes are far more foul then Domi but this was the fapfic that got me started on the damn idea. Gratzi for making a pervert of me.
>> No. 7480
I'm just gonna stroke your cheeks to show my love for you.
>> No. 8283
Captcha: prevedC functions

...I feel my function right now is to BUMP this.

I'm in love with this story, best tentaSpy fic I've read ever. Please do continue.
>> No. 12195
Please tell me you haven't died, this story is glorious
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