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[personal profile] rc45
Title: Teatime Punished
Author: crudedude
Rating: M
Obligatory Linkage: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4766647/1/Teatime_Punished
Sporked by: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend
Sporking rated: R?
Sporkers' notes: Seriously NSFW and NSFB. This is all [livejournal.com profile] ansela_jonla's fault, as she brought this travesty to our attention. We do not own the song Jerusalem. Contains some spoilers for Terry Pratchett's Night Watch. Betaed by [livejournal.com profile] cassie5squared and [livejournal.com profile] ansela_jonla

March 2009 HST





'Crash dummy?'


'Canon source?'


Agent Trojanhorse grimaced. 'It's Teatime and Carcer,' she told her partner. 'We need Night Watch and Hogfather. They're on the shelf, look -' she pointed - 'over there, behind the chrysalids.'

'I know where they are,' Agent Paddlebrains said. 'But I'm not sure they've got any relation to the characters in this fic at all.'

'Good point,' Trojie conceded, 'but we haven't got any really atrocious BDSM porn videos to use instead. Grab 'em.'

'Roger that, boss.'

'Loins girded?'

'Check, although I'd rather not be thinking about my loins right now, thank you.'

'Noted.' Trojie heaved a sigh, and took a moment to steady her nerves. 'Portal?'

'Check. We're good to go.'

'Let's get on with it then,' Trojie said, and stepped through the portal. Pads followed her, shoulders set and expression grim. On the other side, she thrust the crash test dummy forwards, and waited a moment for the fic to animate it.

They were in undefined greyness, she noted. This was presumably a good thing, as it meant there were no canon locations to exorcise, which meant they'd be able to read Discworld novels in future without having hideous flashbacks. After a moment, the dummy took on the form of Jonathan Teatime. His internal narration boomed around them. The agents huddled closer together.

I'm a slut. I love sex. I love to fuck and to be fucked. I will do anything for a cock and have never turned down any pussy either. Old, young, black, white, klatchian, big, small, I don't care.

Trojie began to sing, attempting to drown out the voice. 'And did those feeeeeet in ancient time-'

Pads whipped out her notebook and began scribbling. 'Thank Glod we haven't got a CAD,' she said. 'The explosion would probably take out the entire continuum.' The only response from Trojie was an increase in volume, as the Teatime dummy began waxing lyrical about its incestuous relationship with its parents.

The dummy continued to rave about the joys of pain, and Pads continued making notes, until its words made her stop and frown.

I have Master Carcer and live with him in his home with 2 other slaves. He calls me his pain slut. I guess that because Havelock is a wimp, he cries like a baby even with just a little spanking and Sam has a real problem with being tortured.

'What the...? Vimes and Vetinari are Carcer's bitches?'

'-Among those dark sataaaaniiiiic mills-'

Sam is almost 30 but he looks like he is 15. He calls Master, Daddy and he loves having a no hair, little thing in ponytails to fuck I guess. When they fuck, it looks like he is raping him but he isn't.

'-Bring me my arrows ooooof deeeeesire-'

'Uh, Trojie?' Pads said, alarmed by the turn the song had taken, but her partner ignored her. 'I think this must be an AU after Night Watch. If Vimes is that young, I guess he must've not managed to take Carcer back to the future with him. Although Teatime would be seriously young, if that's the case ... I'm charging for paedophilia. And for making a small child be weirdly into pain and torture.'


'You can't block it all out, you know. Even if you can't hear him. There'll be something to see soon.'

And indeed there was, for shortly after, a location swirled into being around them. It was ill-defined and patchy, and the only concrete detail was a large table covered with straps and stirrups. The agents eyed it warily, both having unpleasant ideas about where this was going. As they watched, Carcer entered, and kicked the crash dummy.

'Good thing it's not the real Teatime,' Pads commented. 'He may be a bastard, but broken ribs are a bugger to fix.'

By the time Trojie had finished singing, the Teatime dummy had strapped itself to the torturous table, and was eagerly awaiting Carcer. The agent pulled a face. 'I've heard of BDSM, but this is a little too much, surely?'

'A lot too much,' Pads told her. 'Just wait until they get to the - no, I don't want to spoil the surprise.'

'Have I mentioned recently that I really hate it when you start talking about surprises in missions?'

'Yes. Frequently. But you'll get an interesting biological specimen out of it, at least.'

'Marvellous. What's a scrot?'

'A what?' Pads peered at the Words floating past. 'Er. A scrotum, I think. You may wish to look away.'

'I can handle testicles just fine, thank you. So long as they're not making contact with my genitals,' she hastily added, lest her partner view this admission as permission to bring a variety of hairy and unwashed canonical men into their bed. 'Although I must say I prefer them without bloody great crocodile clips attached,' Trojie continued, leaning forwards to get a good look.

'I'd prefer it if Teatime wasn't actually enjoying this.'

'Actually,' Trojie decided, 'I'd prefer it if the author had just changed the names. This bears no resemblance to anything Disc-related whatsoever. Well, except for Carcer being a bastard.'

They fell silent, and continued to observe. The description was formulaic, as well as uncomfortable to watch, and Trojie frowned so much her eyebrows began to ache. 'D'you get the feeling,' she said at last, 'that the author's ODed on really twisted porn?'

'Possibly, but I'm not sure this has a place even in the weirdest porn,' Pads said, as Carcer used a pair of rubber bands and some sticks to do something painful and constricting to the Teatime dummy's extended tongue. 'Hell, I'm not sure it's even possible. Oh, look, he's getting a clothes peg on his tongue too. How charming.'

'Is there much more of this?'

'Of plotless and pointless sadism, you mean?' Pads examined the Words. 'There's a bit of unpleasantness with a lit cigar. And a bag of frozen vegetables. Do they have frozen veg on the Disc?'

'Well, they don't have freezers, unless you count the pork futures warehouse. So I'm guessing not.'

'Okay, charging for that then. And then there's some asphyxiation.'

'Weirdly hot asphyxiation?' Trojie asked, without much hope. Pads gave her a sideways look.

'This is Bad Slash, dear. Weirdly hot asphyxiation kink fic is for downtime only.'

'Buggeration. Can we skip it?'

'Of course,' said Pads, opening a portal and ushering her through.

It was hardly worth it. On the other side, they were greeted by the sight of Carcer urinating into Teatime's mouth.

'I know he was a weird little bastard,' Trojie protested, 'but there are limits.'

'To pain thresholds as well as standards of decency and good characterisation. Shouldn't Teatime have passed out or something by now?'

'Probably,' Trojie said gloomily, trying not to watch but finding her eyes dragged inexorably back to the scene before them, in which Carcer was now beating Teatime up. 'And is it just me, or does this seem a little tame in comparison?'

'Just wait,' said Pads, lighting a cigarette and wishing there was a clearly defined wall to slump against. Trojie obediently did so for a while, until:

'Bring me my speeeeeears ooooo'clouds unfold, bring me my chariot of fiiiiiiire-'

'Jerusalem cannot help you now,' Pads sighed. 'You can sing as loud as you like, but it won't change the fact that Carcer just circumcised Teatime.'

'-Nor shall my swooooord sleeeeeep in my haaaaaand-'

"I own you. Next time it's your balls. Now sleep."

In the silence that followed, Trojie's increasingly strained voice reached a crescendo. '-In England's green and pleasant laaaaaand! Which is probably where this is set, because it's sure as hell not Ankh-Morpork,' she added, her voice somewhat closer to normal. 'Can we kill them now?'

'Go for it,' Pads said, taking a jar from the Bag and heading for Teatime's foreskin with her lip curled in distaste. 'They're clearly both replacements. They don't deserve to live. But I'd make it fast in Teatime's case, else you'll probably end up covered in semen.'

'That rules the Agony Aunts out, then,' Trojie said, stroking her chin and pondering as she glared at the replacements, who were looking a bit aimless now that the fic had technically finished. 'What about the New Pie?' she asked, with a sudden bright grin.

'Unless it's in the Bag, no. We're not leaving these two while we go back to the RC. And you still haven't entirely convinced me that it's safe to twist people through multiple and opposing dimensions.'

'In which case,' Trojie decided, busying herself with the duct tape, 'it's a toss-up between Koom Valley and the Edge.'

'The Edge,' Pads said after a brief moment's cogitation. 'I'm not having you portalling back with the Bag full of dwarfs.'

'What on Disc could I possibly want with a bag full of dwarfs?' Trojie asked, assuming an unconvincingly innocent face.

'Do you really want me to answer that?' Pads said sweetly.

'Given your imagination?' Trojie paused to inspect her handiwork. The Carcer replacement was trussed up in silver tape from chin to ankles and cursing mightily, while the Teatime crash dummy had, mercifully, passed out, although whether from pain or blood loss was unclear. 'Probably not. Portal us to the Edge then?'

'Consider it done.'

Five minutes later, they were safely back in the RC, and Pads was sporting a glazed expression. Next to her on the floor was an opened and empty bottle. Trojie prodded her with a toe.

'Pads? I know you're still with me, you've taken worse things than a full bottle of Bleeprin. Pads!'

'What?' the Animagus asked blearily, her face becoming marginally more alert.

'I just had a thought. Remember Tethis?'

'Sea troll. Yeah. Came from - oh.'

They shared a brief and unpleasant mental image, then Trojie shook herself.

'No, they'd both drown. It'll be fine, I'm sure...'

'There could be other worlds,' Pads pointed out reasonably, her fingers scrabbling at the top of a second medicine bottle.

'On the plus side, it'll take them a long time to get there,' Trojie said brightly, choosing to forget that the vagarities of HST meant that even if it took the replacements a billion years to reach an inhabitable world, they could still be sent to finish the job next week. She slumped on the bed next to her partner, and buried her face in the pillow.

Pads patted her sympathetically, and handed her the Bleeprin. A few minutes later, the merciful silence of chemically-induced stupor reigned in RC#45.

At least, it did until the console beeped.

Date: 2009-07-04 09:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yattara.livejournal.com
The mission gets better when listening to Jerusalem while reading it.

And the chances of Sam being Carcer's bitch? Or Vetinari, for that matter? Slim-to-hellsNO! Though I pity Tethis if he does pick them up.

Date: 2009-07-05 03:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
We probably could have sent the thing to the Department of WTF, to be honest, but that might have been cruel.

I don't think any of the 'bitches' are actually canonically likely to be bitches at all, to be honest. Teatime, Vetinari and Vimes together would have joined forces and done something horrible to Carcer ages ago.

Date: 2009-07-05 01:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sedri.livejournal.com
That... was.... ICK. Urinating? Come ON. That's disgusting. Just... blech.

Want Bleepolate. NOW.


On the up side, nice to see more missions. :)

Date: 2009-07-05 04:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
Yes, it's quite convenient that Pads can update my journal for me :) otherwise we wouldn't be able to do anything despite her suddenly having her writing shoes on :D

And yeah, it was a disgusting fic.

Date: 2009-07-05 01:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agent-tomato.livejournal.com
...I have no words for the wrongness. Dear Glod.

Thank you for the slayage.

Date: 2009-07-05 04:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
You're very welcome.

Date: 2009-07-05 05:20 am (UTC)
ext_85481: (Default)
From: [identity profile] hsavinien.livejournal.com
I'm just about puking reading the mission. For [bleep]'S SAKE.

Date: 2009-07-05 02:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
Yeah, I know. It's gross.

Date: 2009-07-05 08:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] calenlily.livejournal.com
Erk. I really need to learn to heed NSFB warnings; just reading the mission was sickening. Thank you for giving it the slayage it deserves.

Date: 2009-07-05 02:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
I think we need to start making NSFB one of our standard warnings, really. We sure know how to pick 'em.

You're welcome

Date: 2009-07-05 08:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lady-rilwen.livejournal.com
I think the thing that killed me most was the offhand reference to Vetinari.
Just... No. *incoherent snarling*

Date: 2009-07-05 02:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
I know. Vetinari, Vimes and Teatime. Could the author have found any Disc characters LESS likely to be submissive?

... actually don't answer that because the resulting mental images may scar.

Date: 2009-07-24 02:12 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I dunno, I can totally see him topping from the bottom. Not in this context, though. Ew.

Date: 2009-07-24 02:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
Yeah, but topping from the bottom would require some actual writing skill, which this author clearly sadly lacks :)


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