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It happened first with Florida. He walked slower than he normally did, and when he sat down he sat on the sides of his hips, or tucked his legs to kneel instead of sit. It was a typical Monday morning aboard the Mother of Invention, but agent Florida was somehow covered in fresh scars.
It made more sense when agent Maine walked in, also marked up with scratches and bites. Maine didn’t look anyone in the eye for the short duration he spent in the mess hall, but Flordia was grinning like a wild cat. The other Freelancers that were going to ask no longer had to, they knew exactly what had happened.
The whole thing had begun with a conversation between sexually frustrated killers about who had the biggest dick. York insisted it was he who had the best, but was shot down with one resounding “ha!” from Carolina. Wyoming was next to brag, but Florida shook his head in the background. When Connecticut mentioned Maine, the room went quiet.
“He is the biggest of us muscle-wise-“, she added on, shrugging her shoulder. She gave a pointed glance toward Washington, who was closest to Maine out of all the others in their squad, as if he was supposed to validate her remark. He said nothing. The topic switched.
Days after, curiosity got the better of the cat-loving freelancer, and he took a chance to find out.
“Hey Maine, how big is your dick?” he asked, peeking over the edge of the shower stall wall between them. Maine gave him a confused look before turning his hips and giving Wash an eyeful of the biggest dick he’d ever see in his life. Wash could only let out a low whistle as he lowered himself back down and resumed his shower.
“Connie was right.” Wash blurted at dinner that night. Maine was still getting himself something to eat, and wasn’t there to hear Washington sing the praises of his dick. “Maine’s got a fucking horse cock between his legs, he’s huge!”
“How and why do you know that, Wash?” North Dakota asked.
“That’s…classified.” Wash answered, turning a bright shade of pink.
“That’s slang for “I fucked him”, isn’t it?” South Dakota jeered, laughing to herself. Wash shook his head furiously, and all conversation about Maine’s dick had to stop when the biggest freelancer plopped down next to his best friend to eat. Maine gave a quizzing look to the flushed freelancer, but Wash shoved food into his mouth before Maine could ask anything.
The questions for Florida came flooding in the moment Maine left the breakfast table that typical Monday morning.
“So…you did it?” CT asked first.
“How was it?” York asked, eyebrows wiggling.
“How are you still alive?” Wash asked, glancing down the hall where Maine had vanished. Florida shifted his weight from his left hip to his right, and leaned forward. He was grinning from ear to ear, and took a second to brush hair from his face before answering.
“Did it? Hell yes. The guy literally fucked me so hard there is a Florida-shaped dent on his door. I’d recommend giving it a go, but I’m pretty sure none of the rest of you could handle Maine’s…well, you know what I mean.”
“Couldn’t handle it? Bitch, there is no way at least I couldn’t handle a good rough fuck!” South Dakota, from the other end of the table, stood up.
“I would bet good money that you wouldn’t even be able to walk the next day.” Florida laughed, shaking his head and taking a sip of coffee. South slammed her fist on the table, shaking it.
“How much?”
“South, don’t do this-“ North attempted to intervene.
“How much?” South repeated, anger seeping into her voice.
“All of my last month’s paycheck. You know how much that is.” Florida calmly replied.
“Deal. When I win this, I want the money a.s.a.p. In cash.” And with a simple handshake, agents South Dakota and Florida began what would be forever known as “The Maine Challenge”.
True to her word, South was next to try. She was waiting for Maine before he got there, and didn’t waste any time beating around the bush.
“Maine, I need you to do me one favor, and fuck me hard enough that these hips can’t have kids.” Maine debated it for a moment, but a puppy-eyed look from South made him shrug. South was a foul-mouthed hurricane who constantly fought to get back in power. If she was over him, she was owning him as best she could. If she was under him, she taunted him to go harder. Maine actually did leave a hairline fracture in her hips, and she didn’t even care in the slightest. The next morning, in came South Dakota, smirking, even though she wasn’t walking in. She was dramatically posing in Maine’s arms, both middle fingers up in the air. Maine was gentle, carefully setting her down at a table before patting her shoulder and going for food. The freelancers flocked to the table like vultures, and South’s scarred corpse was their meal.
“I don’t even care about the money. That was totally worth it.” South shrugged, secretly slipping Florida a wad of cash under the table. She stretched, though more to show off the scratches and bruises than to actually stretch her muscles. Maine returned to the table with two trays of food, one of which was put in front of South. The other agents all sat in stunned silence for a moment, but internally their gears were turning as they thought of the best way to win.
The third happened with no warning on the Thursday of that week, when Maine had an arm tucked around the waist of the latest contender. Eyes widened slightly as Wyoming came limping into the room, wincing as he plopped down into a chair. He simply threw his wallet at Florida, who could not contain his laughter to save his life. Wyoming buried his face in his palms and refused to say anything the duration of the meal. Maine didn’t sit next to Wyoming, but he did lean over the British man to hiss “I get half” at Florida, who nodded and fished through Wyoming’s wallet and removed half of what was there, handing it over to Maine. Maine gave Wyoming a little pat on the back, making Wyoming wince slightly, before moving to sit as his usual place next to Washington.
“So, what happened?” York asked him later, over a round of poker he was losing.
“Yeah, everything okay? You’ve only said, like, three words all day!” Wash added.
“Chaps, I didn’t stand a chance.” Wyoming sighed in defeat, dropping his cards entirely.
“At least you were walking. South didn’t even try!” North chimed in, gaining him a glare from his twin sister. North rolled his eyes at her.
“You haven’t even tried, North! Why don’t you give it a shot before you put me in last?” South challenged, and all the poker players glanced over at North, who didn’t even blink.
“I guess I’ll go next then. I’ll still do better than you, sis.”
True to his word, North went next. He was also the loudest, so South decided to stand outside the door and keep other personnel from trying to intervene. He didn’t even have to ask Maine at this point, Maine answered the door with the questioning grunt of “bet?”, to which North nodded. Maine dragged him in by his shirt, and North began to smirk as he disrobed. Maine didn’t waste any time getting out of clothes, he knew the point-Wyoming had spilled the metaphorical beans just to convince Maine to fuck him. What Maine didn’t expect was the best goddamn set of shoulders he’d ever seen in his life. Normally he’d let the person in question choose which way they wanted to be fucked, but those shoulders were too enticing, and Maine wanted them in biting range. North didn’t complain one little bit, not even when Maine bit down too hard on one shoulder and drew a steady trickle of blood. When North’s round was over, the Dakota practically forced him to cuddle, and Maine did not mind it one little bit.
South was up bright and early the next day, waiting outside in the hallway to watch her twin brother attempt to walk. He didn’t even attempt, he simply sent Maine to bring him some breakfast in bed. South stopped to check in on him, finding her brother sprawled out on his stomach, shoulders entirely red with bites, a couple of which were still bleeding. When she discovered he wasn’t dead, she yelled at him.
“Oh come on! I wanted to watch you do the walk of shame!”
“South, I can’t even move. There’s no way I can do it.”
“So much for doing better than me, huh?”
“Shut up South.” North the pillow princess groaned, lifting a sore arm to flip her off.
It was a while before anyone else attempted to beat Florida, since they all did have jobs to do. One Saturday night, however, found Washington alone with the largest freelancer on the team. Not only alone, but alone in soft lighting in a bedroom. On a couch. Together. Wash randomly became hyper-aware of Maine’s closeness, of the radiating warmth of the behemoth. Wash found he had a harder time than he liked to admit keeping himself from reaching across the small gap on the couch and putting his hands on Maine. Better yet, all over Maine. He gnawed on his lower lip furiously, his face flushing up a hilarious color of red. He didn’t notice when Maine turned his head to glance at him, too busy admiring his body to notice him raising an eyebrow. When he glanced up, it was too late to cry out “no homo”. Maine, the asshole that he was, started smirking before he leaned over and pushed Wash into the couch. The bet was the last thing on his mind. Of course, when Washington came sauntering in the next morning and demanded Florida give over all the winnings, it was instantly remembered.
“Wash, it’s not happening.” Florida said calmly, shaking his head.
“But I did it! I won!” Wash protested.
“You don’t count. There’s no way Maine went hard on you, he likes you too much to hurt you.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Tell me, Washington, do you even have a single scratch on you?” Florida raised an eyebrow, and Wash stood there for a moment with his mouth hanging open. He sat down in defeated silence, which prompted Florida to reach across the table and gently touch his hand.
“At least you confirmed our suspicions, Wash.” He soothed, and Wash just grunted at him. Maine chuckled from his seat next to Wash, who huffed at him and moved over a few spaces to pout alone.
When he heard who had tried next, York spit out the coffee he had spent a good chunk of the morning brewing to perfection. Turns out it was Carolina who was the screamer riding Maine last night, thinking that putting herself in charge would alleviate some soreness-it hadn’t done much more than put her in a position of power. Maine didn’t mind taking a backseat for once, especially when he knew he could dangle this angle over York’s head for eternity. The next morning hit everyone with a huge gust of false wind. Carolina, in an effort to beat everyone out, had donned her armor and used her speed boost to sprint her way down the hall.
“That’s cheating! Enhancements are for battle, not for shit like this!” South snapped.
“You’re just angry you didn’t think of doing it first.” Carolina snapped back.
“Even if she had, you’re the only one with a speed boost! It’s not fair!” CT threw in.
“Actually, Carolina, it is cheating.” Said agent Florida, the unofficial judge. “But I’ll be nice-if you can actually walk down that hallway, the winnings are yours. No speed boosts this time.” Carolina huffed, took a look around the corner at the long expanse of hallway between Maine’s room and the mess hall, and paused. Had this hallway somehow been extended in the past five minutes? She only got a few feet down the hall before she had to stop for a moment, clutching her legs and wincing. She had to stop around fifteen times, but fuck if she didn’t make it all the way down and back that hall. Florida was a good sport, and gave her the money she had rightfully won. CT and South said nothing more.
“So, how was it?” York asked her later, in the locker room before a training session.
“There’s no way for me to put it without hurting your feelings, York.”
“Alright, alright, then don’t worry about me. Just tell me, how was it?” York asked softly, sliding up next to her on the bench. Carolina smiled at the floor, looked up at him, and smiled wider. Her lower lip was gashed open, her neck was covered in bruises, and a bite mark peeked out from the edge of where skin met armor. York couldn’t deny it, he was incredibly jealous of Maine.
“Best sex I’ve ever had, apart from the soreness and a torn lip. You should give it a spin, call us even.” Carolina answered honestly, getting up to leave the locker room. She spun around and blew him a kiss before vanishing to train.
“Guess I’m next then.” York said to no one.
“Hello there, agent Maine.” York said seductively at the door to the largest Freelancer’s room. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t Maine who answered the door.
“Oh! Hey York!” the peppy voice of agent Washington answered, and York felt himself die inside. Maine was in the midst of reading a datapad, feet propped up on his desk, chuckling at York’s seduction attempt.
“Let me guess, you want to fuck for the winnings?” Wash raised his eyebrow, arm blocking York from entering. York’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and nodded, and Wash laughed.
“Alrighty then. See you later, Maine. Have fun!” York shifted to let Wash leave, turning his head to watch the younger freelancer go. When he turned his head back, Maine was lumbering over him, slowly closing the door and staring through him with eyes on fire. Maine didn’t even say anything, just yanked the lockpicker into the room and pinned him to the desk. As York gained his bearings Maine pulled at the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, pulling both down around his ankles before moving to his own. York kicked his pants off his feet and flung them across the room. In one fluid motion, he found himself pinned down to the desk and curled around Maine’s hips. Carolina wasn’t lying, he found himself thinking over and over. The rest was blurred out in a sexual haze. Being the good girlfriend she was, Carolina perched herself outside the door, keeping the occasional nosy crewman from asking too many questions about the sudden screaming emanating from Maine’s room. Wash popped by every once in a while, checking to see if York was done yet, but York’s only saving grace was that it took him forever to do anything-good for sex, bad for picking locks.
If the other agents didn’t think to glance down the next morning, they would have actually stepped on agent York, who desperately needed a cup of coffee but didn’t want to do what North had done and send Maine for one. He was crawling by his arms, dragging his legs as deadweight behind him, and only stopped crawling to flail his arms at the counter.
“For fucks sake, can someone grab me a cup of coffee already? I can’t reach it from down here!”
“Why don’t you just stand up, then? Don’t be a lazy fuck.” South grunted at him, stealing the coffee pot from right above him and getting herself a cup, setting it down and standing there, hovering above him with a Florida-like grin.
“I can’t. I literally lost feeling in my legs.”
“What were you doing last night?” North jokingly asked, joining South in hovering over the fallen New York.
“What do you think? I tried the same goddamn bet you two tried!”
“We could at least stand. Maybe you’re just weak.” North shrugged.
“Did either of you get fucked through a desk?”
“Through a desk?” Carolina asked from the other side of the room.
“Through a desk! It ended up snapped in half!” York explained, laughing slightly.
“Are you alright? Shouldn’t you go to medical or something?” Carolina asked as she joined the Dakotas. South and North moved back a bit, just in case.
“I’m fine, just feel like I’ve been thrown through a woodchipper. Can you get me a cup of coffee? That’d be swell right now.” York brushed it aside, grinning up at her as if the pattern of black bruises across his back and legs didn’t exist. Carolina set her cup of coffee down on the floor next to him, rolled her eyes, and swaggered off. Maine seemed almost embarrassed when he walked in later, and didn’t even so much as grunt the entire time he choked down a piece of toast and a glass of water.
Everyone was used to not believing York, especially since he was known for embellishing his lockpicking skills.
Washington was the one to open Maine’s door first, just to check and see if the desk was really broken or not. Without a word, the other questioners gathered in the doorframe to witness the plastic desk of agent Maine-with a literal hole snapped through the center. There were divots in most of the walls, a complete crack in the wall closest to the bed, and Maine’s headboard was in desperate need of repair from all the cracks and missing chunks.
“Jesus Christ!“ Wash began, but South pushed past him. She paused for a moment next to the broken desk before kneeling to force open a drawer, stealing a pen and walking over the crack in the wall next to the head of the bed.
“South, what are you-“ North began to ask, but he didn’t have to wait to find out before South had finished signing her name just next to the crack in the wall, with a little arrow pointing directly at it. As she walked out of the room, she tossed the pen over her shoulder, which landed at Florida’s feet. He chuckled slightly before also taking the pen, but instead of approaching a wall he moved to the other side of the door and signed it, holding the pen out to the group of surrounding freelancers.
“Ah, what the hell.” Carolina shrugged before nabbing the pen and finding her own dent in the wall, signing it in cursive and shoving the pen at York, who signed both halves of the broken desk. North’s niche was just his shoulders, but it was worth signing anyway. While the other freelancers marked their territory, Wash stood there in horrified silence. He knew Maine was rough, sure, but he’d been so gentle to him it was still hard to believe that he caused all this. More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed all these dents before? He was in this room all the time! He was the only one still in it, holding the stolen pen when Maine circled back in. With a sudden burst of creativity, Wash flicked off the cap and signed his name in big letters over a very confused agent Maine’s chestplate. He placed a kiss on the other’s helmet visor before taking his leave, pretending he didn’t hear Maine laughing to himself. His name was still there when Maine came to train later, and Washington had to try really hard not to grin.
CT was not one to resist a challenge for long. South knew this best. So CT walking in to pre-training breakfast on her hands didn’t surprise her at all. CT vaulting herself so she landed with her feet propped up on the table across from Carolina didn’t surprise her. CT demanding the bet winnings in a sweet voice with an arrogant smirk didn’t surprise her in the slightest, it served as endless amusement.
“You cheated.” Carolina curtly replied, blankly staring at her.
“So did you. Hand it over.” Connecticut was giving absolutely zero fucks.
“I did it. You were witness. Unless you can walk the walk, don’t talk the talk, CT.” Carolina raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, leaning back to sip a cup of orange juice. South grinned behind her coffee, knowing CT was either about to show Carolina who the boss was, or CT was going to fall on her ass and it would be hilarious.
CT ended up being hilarious. She tried so hard, bless her motherfucking soul, but she ended up on the floor, crawling back to her breakfast plate and eating in silence. Her face was scrunched up in anger, but South knew better. South knew that was her trying-to-be-mad-but-actually-just-hiding-embarrassment face. The female Dakota decided to be nice for once, passing up the opportunity to make what would’ve been hilarious jokes in favor of striking up a typical conversation, giving CT the opportunity to ignore the other agents as well.
Exactly two and a half weeks after CT tried to steal the winnings from Carolina, it was Maine himself who came limping to breakfast. The other freelancers nearly gawked at the sight of the brute wincing as he walked by, not lifting his eyes from their shameful fixation on the floor.
“Good morning, sluts!” came the joyous cry of pilot 479er, busting her way through the door and strutting in. Maine visibly winced, and Wash stared at him with bug-eyes. “I heard there was some challenge going around, something about getting fucked by Maine, decided I’d give it my best shot. Where is my money?” as she spoke in a rather loud voice, she walked among the tables, and with every exaggerated stride and swish of her hips, other contenders grabbed at the spaces that ached. North became obsessed with rubbing his shoulders, Florida shifted his hips, York audibly grunted, and even the current victor Carolina seemed to have phantom pains running through her legs. 479er stopped at the seat in front of her, swung her leg over the chair, and slammed her hips down into it. One could hear the grunts of pain coming from the other freelancers. Carolina didn’t say a word, just reached for her wallet and handed over the winnings. 479er graciously took them, and as she swaggered out she slapped Maine’s ass for good measure. The giant grunted in pain, and scowled after her, but she was long gone. In the silence she left, the freelancers glanced between each other, their eyes ending up on Maine.
“Not. A. Word.” he growled out. And with that, the challenge was ended.