Chapter 11: Games People Play
Disclaimer: Hey, there, take a look, I'm neither shyster or crook.. The game's the same, if you don't see the prize, I'll take the blame. Here's one iCarly, I put under the cup. Take a good look and tell me what's up. Keep your eye on it, my friend, watch the cups as I move 'em and see where they end. Now, my brother, what cup holds iCarly? That one? You're sure? Nice try. Thank you for the fiver. Let me know when you want to try again to own iCarly.
"Come on, Benson, I don't see what the big deal is. I'm staying, too."
"Sam, you always stay at Carly's. As for what the big deal is, one, I'll have to ask my mom and have to listen to her complain about Carly trying to kill me." Sam laughed. "And, two, Carly keeps bugging me about Michelle, and I don't know that I want to be stuck in the apartment all night with no room to escape her interrogations."
"Aw, come on, man up, Freddie. She's just a skinny little girl. You can handle her."
"You're littler than her, and I can barely handle you," he said.
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. "What makes you think you can handle me at all, Benson?"
"Seemed to be doing a good job the other night," he said.
Her face twitched. "That was pretty ballsy, Freddie. I like it. So I'll let you get away with it just this once. But try it again, and I'll show you 'handling'." He opened his mouth. "And I don't mean like that," she said. He shut his mouth, but still raised his eyebrows at her.
"Sam, you're not beating up Freddie again are you?" Carly asked, coming into the studio.
"I kind of have to, Carly. It's been a while. You know what they say: if you don't use it, you lose it." She threw a smirk at Freddie that Carly didn't see.
"Please don't. He has to be on camera for part of the show, and I don't want to try to hide his bruises."
"Thanks for your concern, Carly." Carly waved at him absently and picked up her Violin Hero controller. "I'm sure if she did anything, Sam would kiss my boo-boos and make them all better."
Sam let his shirt go and moved closer. "You're pushing it, Freddie."
He leaned in, close to her ear, so only she could hear. "You didn't mind the other night," he whispered, and then he moved out of hitting distance.
"By the way, Freddie," Carly said, "Spencer talked to your mom, and she said it was okay if you spent the night."
"What?" He turned to Sam, who was now smirking at him.
"Yeah, so you, Sam, and Gibby will get to stay tonight after the show. Isn't that great?"
"Wait, so Gibby's staying, too?"
"Yeah," she said. "Didn't I tell you that?"
"No." This is not good. He sat down in one of the bean bags. Carly played a few songs on the game. He turned to look at Sam, and every time he did, she raised her own eyebrows at him. He knew having the upper hand on her wouldn't last. Now she had the entire night to torture him. Perhaps she was going to take that be-nice approach he had foolishly given her a few weeks before, just so that by the time morning came he would be completely paranoid.
"Why are we doing this again, anyway, Carly?"
She put her controller down. "Because you guys are my friends, and I feel like we never hang around together anymore. I mean, Sam spends the night all the time, but I never feel like the three of us are together unless it's iCarly or at school."
"Wait," Sam said. "Why's Gibby coming, then?"
"Gibby's a good guy," Freddie said, automatically. The other two turned toward him. "What?"
Carly shook her head. "Anyway, I'm going to make some brownies. Come help me, Sam." Sam started to protest. "I'll let you lick the spoon."
"Okay." She headed toward the door, but then turned back toward Freddie. She leaned over the bean bag.
"Sam, what are you doing to Freddie?"
"I just have to make sure he and I have an understanding." She lowered her voice. "I really like the bolder Freddie Benson." She looked at Carly in the doorway, waiting impatiently. Carly could only see the back of Freddie's upper back and neck and Sam leaning over him. Sam put her hand on Freddie's crotch. "And I think you should be just as bold as you want." She stroked his dick through his jeans, smiling menacingly as she felt it harden. "But you just want to remember, Freddie. Every time I will retaliate." She leaned in, as she squeezed and stroked. He didn't move. He wanted her to stop, and he didn't, but he knew what he wanted more than anything was for Carly to not see him creaming his jeans. She whispered, "Mama plays to win, remember that." She let go and went to Carly. "Where's that spoon, Carls?"
"You coming, Freddie?" Carly asked.
"Uh...not yet," he said, with a strained voice.
"What did you say to him?" Carly asked.
"Just making sure he knows his place," Sam said, laughing. After they left, Freddie said his litany, willing himself to shrink. The smart thing for Freddie to do was to do or say nothing that would provoke Sam tonight, because he knew she hadn't lied: she would retaliate. It would be the smart thing. But he had discovered recently that he was fairly talented at not doing the smart thing. And the way Sam had said it-hadn't that sounded like a challenge, like another game?
You don't want to do what you're thinking of doing, Freddie, he thought. No. He didn't want to. He did want to.
He left the apartment, telling Sam and Carly he would come back later.
"Mom, you're letting me stay over at Carly's? I thought you were afraid she was going to kill me."
"I'm afraid of that every day," she said, seriously. "But I've been working so much recently, and I feel it's better if you stay with an adult...even if it's Spencer."
"Mom, you really don't have to do this. I'm thinking about staying in Seattle for college. You don't have to bribe me with a car. You're working too hard."
She caressed his cheek. "You're sweet, Freddie. Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. My last double shift is a week from Saturday. I have enough money now. I'm only working that much to pay the insurance for the year. Maybe on my day off we can look for a car?"
"Sure, Mom."
"You're really thinking about staying here for college?" He nodded. "Oh, thank you." She hugged him. "But no pressure, of course." He watched her walk away, obviously pleased. He felt like a crummy son, but he couldn't tell her that she wasn't the only reason he was thinking of staying.
He packed for overnight and went back to Carly's. When he got there, Gibby had already arrived.
"This is going to be great, guys," Carly said, excitedly. Freddie looked at Sam, who still had a smug look on her face.
"So what's the arrangements, Carly?" Freddie asked.
"We'll be in the studio after filming. Spencer already set up the air mattresses in the hall. We just need to drag them into the studio." Spencer waved at them from the kitchen, where he was making something on the stove.
"Where do we change?" Freddie asked.
"Well, Sam and I are in my room, so I guess you guys can use Spencer's room." She looked to Spencer to see if that was all right. He waved again.
"All right, Gibby, let's go," Freddie said.
"I don't want to change yet," Gibby said.
"We don't have to change, Gibby. We're just putting our stuff up," Freddie said.
"Oh, okay." He followed Freddie into Spencer's room.
"Gibby, you can't say anything to the girls about the other night, okay?"
"What would be wrong with them knowing, Freddie?"
"Well, for one, some girls get kind of skeeved out when guys talk about porn. And I just don't need them to know what I was doing, okay?"
"Okay," Gibby agreed. "Hey, is Carly the girl?"
"What?"
"You know, the girl. I mean, I know you had a crush on her before. And she looks like she would be pretty flexible..."
Freddie rubbed his head. "Okay, Gibby, you helped me the other night, so I'm gonna give you a piece of advice. I wouldn't mention anything at all about sex to them, because Sam will end up taking your scrotum and pulling it over your head."
Gibby shuddered, thinking of past harm Sam had visited upon him. "No sex?" Freddie nodded. "Got it." They left.
"What took you guys so long?" Carly asked.
"Not talking about anything, that's for sure," Gibby said. Everybody looked at him. Freddie shrugged his shoulders and mouthed "Gibby". They nodded and went back to their business. Gibby gave Freddie a thumbs-up, and Freddie shivered.
Sam was sitting on the couch with the brownie bowl. Carly had foolishly given it to her before getting as much work out of Sam as she could. The bowl was completely clean. Freddie walked by her and shook his head. He took two Peppy Colas out of the fridge. He went behind the couch and held one out to Sam. She looked at him and smirked. She took it.
"Good to see you know your place, Benson," she said.
"I'd be foolish not to," he said, and held his own soda up to her in a salute. She looked pleased with herself and took a drink. That was when he leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "I want to fuck you."
She sprayed soda all over the coffee table.
"Sam, are you okay? What happened?" Carly asked.
Sam stared at Freddie. She looked at Carly. "I think Benson gave me diet soda."
"Sam, it's regular soda. We don't have any diet in the house. Not since your last incident."
"Oh." Carly shook her head, went to the kitchen, grabbed some paper towels and gave them to Sam.
Sam cleaned up the mess, not seeming to realize she was working, although she was not doing a great job of it, as she was staring at Freddie the entire time. She nodded at him. If he wanted to play, she was going to play. Freddie smirked at her and didn't gulp until he turned away from her.
Freddie was saved from immediate retaliation by dinner, or so he thought. Except Sam sat opposite him, and it wasn't long before he felt her foot against his crotch, rubbing slowly. He tried to concentrate on his food, while Sam smiled at him. He picked up and put down the same fork of food three times. He looked up and saw Spencer looking at him strangely. He began reciting his litany in his head while he mechanically ate, doing the best he could to ignore her foot.
"Whoa, I think I ate too much," Freddie said, scooting back his seat. The others looked at his plate, which had hardly been touched, but the important thing was he had moved away from Sam's foot.
Freddie waited until the others had taken their plates to the sink before he felt comfortable getting up. He looked at the others in the kitchen and hissed to Sam, "that wasn't cool."
"What are you going to do about it, Benson?" she asked.
He growled. He looked at the others, who were still turned away from them. He moved quickly and licked the length of her neck. Sam yelled out and spun around on him, losing her footing and falling down.
"Sam, are you okay?" he said, with a concerned voice.
"What happened, Sam?" Carly asked.
"Yeah, what happened, Sam?" Freddie asked.
"Made a mistake and looked at your face," she said. Carly rolled her eyes.
"Guys, can't you get along? Please?"
"Sorry, Carls," they said, and then gave each other a light smack on the cheek.
Everything settled down as they prepared for and started filming. At one point, Carly and Gibby were acting out a scene, and Sam moved out of camera range. Freddie knew something was coming, but there was nothing he could do, since he was holding the camera.
She came behind him slowly, until she was standing behind him. She moved close, so that her mouth was near his ear, and whatever she said wouldn't be picked up by the camera. Carly flicked her eyes at them, but she was in the middle of the scene and had to concentrate on it.
"Did you ever think about me sucking your dick, Freddie?" she whispered. He gulped, but his camera stayed steady. He was a professional. "Just feeling my lips wrap around it, feeling my tongue on your dick. Did you ever want to fuck my mouth, Freddie?" Then she walked away with a smile on her face. Carly looked at Sam's triumphant face and Freddie's shellshocked one. What is going on with them? How is she torturing him now?
Freddie didn't really remember the rest of the broadcast, because, if he hadn't been thinking about it before, he was certainly thinking about it now. It didn't help that Sam kept finding excuses to touch her mouth. Where the hell did she get a lollipop from?
Finally, it was over. Freddie felt like kicking himself. Why did he constantly think he could somehow get a victory over Sam?
Let it not be said that Freddie did not not put up a valiant battle. He caught up with Sam as she exited Carly's bedroom when nobody was around and kissed her soundly and thoroughly and left her leaning against the bedroom door looking a little shell-shocked herself. The problem was one that he had mused about before: with Sam's tactics, it was very easy to see how Freddie was affected, but not so when Sam was. He could only hope to surprise her or make her blush, while all she had to do was blow in his ear, and he had to wait and mouth silent litanies until his erection went away.
This was a game Freddie could not have won with any girl, but that was especially so with Sam. They were playing a board game with Carly and Gibby, and Sam had ensured she sat opposite Freddie. When it was her turn she would sit up and reach over the board, making it very clear to Freddie that she wasn't wearing a bra. She said nothing, but her smirk remained even when Freddie won the board game, something he wasn't quite sure how he had done.
Later, they watched a movie, and Sam sat next to Freddie. He tried to move, but she prevented him. "You're a good pillow." Soon enough she had fallen asleep, or at least that was how it appeared to the others. Sam had put the pillow on Freddie's lap and laid her head on it. Her hand, hidden from the others, stroked Freddie's dick.
He leaned over. "Okay, you win. Ush?" She "woke" up, stretched her arms, and nodded. Freddie took a few minutes to recover, and then went to the kitchen and put the sink sprayer into his pants and turned it on. Actually, the cold water was somewhat of a relief.
"What was that about, Freddie?" Carly asked.
"I lost," he said, simply. He went to Spencer's room to change into some pajama bottoms.
"What did he lose, Sam?" Carly asked.
"Everything, Carls. He's a loser at everything." Freddie shook his head. He still didn't like it when she said stuff like that, but he knew she didn't mean it. He decided to ignore it rather than be goaded into another game he was sure to lose.
Later that night, Freddie was on his air mattress. Carly and Gibby were on the opposite side of the room on their own. He could hear Carly's light whistling sleep-noises and what appeared to be a dull chainsaw wrapped in cotton coming from Gibby. When Carly had questioned Sam about why she was sleeping near Freddie, Sam had smirked and said, "I have my reasons."
"Sam, please don't hurt him. Not tonight," Carly pleaded.
"I'll think about it," Sam said, and gave Freddie a grin that years ago might have made him burst into tears.
"Freddie," she whispered.
"Yeah."
"You played a good game. I didn't think you were going to last that long."
He turned over on his mattress. He could barely seen her form near him. "Well, you have a couple of natural advantages on me."
"Are you trying to start another game, Benson?"
"No. I just like boobs."
She snorted. Carly's whistling halted, and they both were quiet until it began again.
"Freddie."
"Yeah, Sam?"
"You know I don't think you're a loser, right?"
"I know, Sam."
"I just say things sometimes, you know, it's-" She stopped. Freddie reached out to her, ending up with his hand on her arm.
"Sam, it's cool. I know you. If somebody else said it, it might bother me. But I know that's just how we are. You're still my best friend."
"I am? What about Carly?"
"Well, she is, too. But she doesn't put out." He squeezed her arm. She pinched the skin on the backside of his hand.
"Jerk." He could tell she was smiling, though.
"I mean it, Sam, I couldn't imagine not having you in my life."
"Thanks, Freddie." She was silent, then: "pussy."
Freddie snorted laughter until Gibby thrashed around and muttered something about pterodactyls.
Freddie woke to find everybody else was already up. He checked around him to see if Sam had booby-trapped anything, but all seemed safe. She had shared some sincerity with him the night before, and he knew that probably meant she felt she had to counterbalance it with a prank or insult.
"Morning, sleepy-head," Carly called to him as he came down the stairs. "Want some waffles?"
"Sure thing," he said. Gibby was already devouring his waffles, but he was no match for for Sam, who was done to a few remaining bites, which she liberally doused with syrup every few seconds.
"Here you go, Freddo," Spencer said. He handed Freddie a plate.
"Hey, Sam, can I borrow the syrup?" Freddie asked.
"Get your own," she said. Freddie looked to Spencer who mouthed, "only one."
"It's the only one left, Sam. Can I just borrow it for a second?"
"You'll have to wait," she said.
Freddie shook his head. It seemed the booby trap was downstairs. He could go and get syrup from his apartment, but he was pretty sure it was made with wheatgerm. He decided to just eat the waffles without syrup, maybe throw some strawberries and whip cream on them, but then Carly spoke up. "Sam, I know you're not a morning person, but please just give Freddie the syrup."
"Fine," Sam said, and even though Freddie knew it was happening before it did, he was helpless to move when Sam shot up in her chair and squeezed the bottle over his head, drenching his hair.
"Sam!" Carly shouted. Freddie sighed. Had he wanted to come to this slumber party? No, he did not.
"Whatever, I'm outta here. I'm going to get my bag," Sam said.
"Freddie-" Carly said, but Freddie waved her off. He loved Sam so much, and sometimes he just wanted to kick her squarely in the ass.
"I'm going to clean up," he said, and he went into Spencer's bedroom and grabbed his bag and went to his apartment.
Every time, he thought. Every time she does it to me, and that's why I can never tell her how I really feel, because she'll say, yeah, you're my friend, Freddie, and, yeah, I'll play this game, because I know I can trust you, but actually "love" you? Come on, Freddie, grow up. He stood in the shower and watched the syrup flow onto the tile. That's nice, he thought, sap from a sap.
The shower door opened. "NIce ass, Freddie." A hand was placed on his hip and somebody stood behind him.
"Sam?" He started to turn around.
"Uh uh. It's my turn, my rules. No turning around. And what do you mean, Sam? Are there are other naked girls who get into your shower? Because, if so, we need to talk, and remember I do most of my talking with my hands." She smacked his ass.
"You're naked?"
"No, I usually jump into the shower with my clothes on. Of course, I'm naked." She moved so that her front pressed his back, and he could feel her bare breasts.
"Sorry," he said. "I guess the syrup must have seeped into my brain."
He felt her shrug. "Sorry, had to be done. I was going to say you stank and needed to shower, but that seemed kind of obvious. Thank Carly for giving me the idea."
"Yeah, great."
"You big baby." She ran her fingers through his hair, straining the syrup out. Freddie was surprised how gentle her hands were. Soon there appeared to be no more syrup leaking from his head.
"Shampoo," Sam said. He took the bottle and handed it to her, trying to not think about her doing something horrible with it. I never should have watched that one scene at Gibby's.
"Relax, Freddie, I'm not going to hurt you," she said, and her voice was soft.
"I didn't say you were."
"You tensed up." Her voice became more jovial. "It does some amazing things to your ass cheeks."
"Sam." And she kissed him on the back, just below his neck. She held the bottle back in front of him, and he put it up. She rubbed her hands together and then massaged the shampoo into his hair.
"You don't think Carly will be suspicious?" he asked.
"I went through your bedroom window, so she wouldn't have seen me. Besides she thinks we're mad at each other."
"I should be mad at you," he said.
She reached around him, letting the water rinse away the shampoo from her hands. She reached down and grasped his dick, which had been hard since she had first touched him.
"It seems like he forgives me," she said.
"He really hasn't mastered the concept of good and evil," Freddie said. Sam laughed.
"You forgive me," she said.
"Yeah, I know."
"Do you have a wash cloth?"
"For what?"
"For soap, nub."
He handed her the loofah. She sighed. "What?" he said.
"I just never knew I was a lesbian. But I must be, because I spend so much time letting a girl play with me."
"Ha ha."
"Soap."
He handed her the bottle. She squeezed it on to the loofah and handed the bottle back to him. Sam gently rubbed the loofah on his back. Is Sam bathing me? She was. She soaped his entire back and shoulders, then ran the loofah over his arms, raising them to get under. She leaned down and soaped the back of his legs.
"Okay, Freddie, close your eyes."
"Sam-"
"Nope, it's my turn, and you don't get to see Mama's goodies yet."
"I've already seen your goodies, Sam."
"Not everything at the same time. The sight might just make you explode," she said, squeezing his cock, "and die. And I couldn't have that. I need somebody to buy me smoothies."
"It'd be worth dying for," he said, and he felt her stop. He waited for the smack or sarcastic remark, but nothing came.
"Thank you, Freddie," she said, softly. "Are your eyes closed?"
"Yes."
"Turn around." He did. "See, girls, I told you he was hung."
"Funny, Sam."
"How'd you know I didn't have people here?"
"If you did, you would have made a small penis joke," he said.
"Good point." She soaped his chest and shoulders. When she reached up to soap his face, his penis pushed against her stomach.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's okay, Freddie. I don't mind." She finished soaping his entire top and reached down to wash the front of his legs. She finally brought the loofah to his groin, surprising him by not saying anything as she did so.
"Okay, you can turn back around." He did so and opened his eyes. She bent him down and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. "Conditioner." He smiled at how business-like she sounded. She put the conditioner in his hair, running her fingers through it. "You have such nice hair, Freddie. You shouldn't put so much stuff in it." He wasn't sure what to say to that, since it was both a compliment and an insult, so he said nothing.
She stepped back. Freddie stood there, waiting for whatever was next. He wasn't sure, although he felt he usually knew generally what was going through Sam's mind. All he knew that turning around was the wrong option. He didn't know why he knew that, but he did. She moved forward, wrapped her arms around him, squeezing around his stomach, and leaned her cheek on his back, unmindful of the soap.
"I'm glad I have you in my life, Freddie." And then he did want to turn around, because this seemed like the closest to when he might be able to tell her how he truly felt about her. But she realized him, and he knew it was gone. She pushed his head forward. "Well, lean." He laughed. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, just remembering something." She doesn't say anything, and he thinks, a little sadly, that she has forgotten.
"I hate you, Freddie."
"I hate you, too, Sam," he says, with a smile. And he leans, watching the conditioner and soap trail down his body. He can see her bare feet (her bare Elvish feet, he thinks), and he hasn't turned around, so he assumes this is okay.
"All clean," she said. He started to reach for the shower controls. "Well, just one more thing." She reached around him and begin stroking his cock. She blew out air in frustration after a moment. "The water is making this hard. Shut up, Freddie. Give me the soap to-"
"No, not the soap!"
"Why not?"
"Uh, bad experience. Use this."
"Conditioner? Really?"
"Trust me."
"Pervert." She squirted some into her hand, and handed the bottle back to him. He put it up and felt her hand around him once again. "But a pervert who knows what he's doing." The conditioner allowed her more versatility, and she would squeeze him as she stroked. She got up on her tip toes and bit his ear gently.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah," he hissed through his teeth. His breathing was harder and sharper, and he knew that he wouldn't last very long.
"Did you mean what you said before?"
"When?" Barely loud enough for her to hear. He arched his back, and she she put her other arm around him to steady him.
"When you said you wanted to fuck me."
"Yes." Squeezing and stroking. His cock was throbbing.
"Fuck anybody or fuck me?"
"You. God, Sam."
"You want to fuck my pussy?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I want to fuck your pussy. I want to feel your pussy around...oh, god, I'm gonna cum." And, as he said, that she sunk her teeth into his shoulder blade, and his orgasm shot off like fireworks, he lost control of his legs and would have fallen if Sam hadn't held him up. His eyes fluttered, and he felt for a moment that he might pass out. I didn't think that actually happened, he thought. Then he was finished, and his body seemed unable to move. Sam released his cock and put her arm around him to connect to the other, supporting him.
"You okay, Freddie?"
"Yeah...just...boom, fireworks." She laughed. She looked at the front of the shower where his ejaculation was slowly slipping down the tile.
"You keep doing that, you might have a job in porn, Fredward."
No! No porn."
"Just a joke, Freddie. Okay, close your eyes." He didn't question this time; he just did it. She cautiously released him, and he found he was able to stand without her assistance. He felt her move in front of him, and then from the sounds of it, she was collecting water in her hands and throwing it at the wall. "I don't know why I always have to clean up after you, Freddie." He laughed soundlessly. Finally, she turned off the water. "Keep 'em closed." she got out.
"Open up." He looked. She had a towel wrapped around her, plus one in her hands. She patted him down, drying him. She took a long time to dry his entire body, and her face was serious the entire time. He kept expecting her to make a joke, but she didn't.
She went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers. "You should put these on, unless you plan on ravishing me right now." No smile.
"What if I do?"
"Make the move."
He backed down. "Can't. Too spent. Can you come back in an hour?"
She smirked. "Window, and everything else, is only open so long. After that, you just gotta continue the game." He nodded, and put his boxers on. He felt like he had just taken a test, and he wasn't sure if he passed or failed.
"I'm getting dressed," she said and went into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later fully dressed.
By that time, he felt he was more coherent than before. "Sam, you're not mad at me, are you?" She looked surprised.
"No, should I be?"
"No...I just wanted to make sure." He felt stupid. He thought about ripping her clothes off and ravishing her, if only because he seemed to be able to speak confidently to her when they were in the game. "Thanks for the shower, Sam."
"Well, I'm the reason you needed it." She was silent again, and then she moved forward and gave him a soft kiss. "Tag, you're it." She moved to the window. "See you, Freddie."
"See you, Sam."
A/N: Apparently I am getting elephantiasis of the chapter, as each one keeps getting longer and longer (that's what she said). I'll try to be a little more conservative in the future.
Apologies to Mz Briar. I forgot that when I type names with a period in them, that they don't show up for some reason. So in the last chapter author notes, you were the last name in the thank you list and the individual response that started with a colon.
Thanks for reviews from: maxifae, sammiilizziee, Jarik Kiray, Princess Starlight, Darsnider, LiTlLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, KarmaLord, MissSeddie, AlexaJohn185, Moviepal, Julefor, lovesux93, mmm marshall, clarksonfan, popcorn1001, myjumpingsocks, Lovin'Seddie, sincerely-sweet, Cukeygirl, Mz Briar, alaskan-anime-girl, Termite Tornado, and mamaluvsangst.
Jarik Kiray: As for your PS, I believe you just mastered what I referred to in an earlier chapter as not a double entendre, but just an entendre. No winking required. And as for Freddie, what can I say? He's a giver.
Darsnider: I was actually thinking of letting Freddie add Gibby porn to his litany; nothing would calm his raging hormones sooner. And wasn't it better that I got that out of the way at the beginning, rather than just throw it right in the middle of Sam and Freddie's bedroom scene?
Princess Starlight: As I sent to somebody else, updates for the rest of the week should be once a day in the morning, with chapter 15 possibly Friday night, but most likely Saturday morning. Freddie's not a wuss; he's...cautious. I think one of the reasons I wrote this is that I've read other 'M' rated fanfic, and in some of them, I felt like "Sam" and "Freddie" could be replaced by any other names, because there was really nothing connecting the people in the story to the characters in the television show. Obviously, I have gone outside the show, too, but I do hope that people can see the characters as Sam and Freddie in my story. Ah, Princess Starlight, you've fallen into the trap all will after my Gibby chapter. You just can't say or write anything without it seeming perverted. Watch: although your aggressive nature has made me feel trepidation, the hungry lust for my handiwork you have shown will allow me to hold my pen straight and let its glorious ink flow. See? Oh, yeah, and...Gibbaaay!
Julefor: I know! And from what we've seen of Matt, he seems like a great guy! (Sam voice) What, no, this is a game. Shut up! (end Sam voice). If I hadn't had my fill of flowcharts in my life, I would provide it-but I actually think it's better when people imagine what's on it.
popcorn1001: My favorite part about the mime was his final act with the invisible noose and the tip of the hat to Freddie. You just can't keep a good mime down, no matter how much you beat him. When most of your friends are females, you definitely learn that they do indeed talk about that stuff, and that sometimes they get way more graphic than males.