It was only to be expected that Medic was the next victim in this humiliating exercise. The role of a medic had never been focused on offence or kill-counts. He was a support class whose job it was to follow and heal the more appropriately armed classes. But, no amount of German expletives could convince the Soldier that this should be taken into consideration. According to Soldier he wasn't using the best of his abilities to exterminate the BLU team and he should go cry over some sauerkraut if he didn't like it.

Even Medic had to admit, that was fascism.

So here he was, looking mournfully at he candy striper nurse's outfit that was spread across his bed. Wearing that thing was the second worse thing that could happen to him today. The first would be Soldier bursting in and forcibly dressing him (which he had actually threatened to do).

He sighed and picked up a pair of cream silk stockings, delicately embroidered with pink hearts and medical crosses. Medic could only scoff at the detail. He found it astounding that Soldier was using company money to purchase these ludicrous hand-tailored garments. The money would have been far better spent on weapon upgrades, or even recreation facilities. Lacy pink panties were not a tax deductable business expense.

He threw the stockings back on the bed. He hadn't voted for this and he had every right to refuse. He was a man of decorum. A man of pride. He sighed and thought back to the previous night. Spy wasn't so affected by this silly ceremony, so maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed? He'd just get it over with tonight and devise a way to kill more enemies tomorrow.

Steeling himself, he decided to start with the most innocuous piece of clothing. He placed the nurses cap on his head and adjusted his hair beneath it. Well, that was easy enough, but squeezing into the stripy thigh-high dress, embellished with an underskirt of tulle would prove a bigger challenge.

He grumbled as he fumbled with the bra latch. He was a professional with more than 30 years of medical experience and this is what he was reduced to. Struggling to fit into lady's unmentionables. Ridiculous.

There was loud pounding on his door. "You've been in there an awful long time, Fritz! I'll give you two more minutes before I court-martial you for noncompliance with a direct order."

"Ja, ja, dummkopf." Medic muttered under his breath. He finally figured out the bra and slipped the dress over his head. It was just as well, because Soldier proved true to his word and kicked the door in with a strike of his steel capped boot.

"Scheiße!" Medic hopped away and wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. "Are zhere any manners left in zhis base?"

"Time's up, weisswurst! It's time to go out there and show everyone the kind of man you are. Not much of one! Outside on the double, private. ONE TWO ONE TWO!"

"I am getting to it!" Screeched Medic, secretly ashamed at his own melodrama. He took a long breath, ran a hand over his face to compose himself and turned to face Soldier. "But, since you are here, vould you be so kind as to zip me up? I cannot reach zhat far."

Medic turned his back to the American. As silly as it was to dress like a woman, it was sillier still to improperly dress like a woman. He waited for an awkward moment before he turned around to see what the holdup was.

Soldier held his hands in a frozen, claw-like pose, hovering inches away from the zip at the back of Medic's dress. He looked fretful, unsure of his next move.

"Vell?" Asked Medic, more annoyed at Soldier's strange behaviour than anything else. "Do you vant me out zhere or not? Zip up mein dress!"

At the sound of Medic's voice, Soldier shook his head and snapped out of his trance. "Ah, outside. Right! I'll just…"

It took an unusual amount of effort, but Soldier finally got there. The zip went up with a 'vvvvrrrp!' and Medic's outfit was complete. He patted his dress down and took some tentative steps in the small pink slippers that came with the uniform. "Many thanks for your help, Herr Soldier. Now I can get zhis exercise in disgrace ovah with."

He wobbled out into the corridor, instinctively looking both ways. He wanted to avoid sneak mockery where he could. However, he couldn't have predicted how eager the team was to see his getup. It was a deafening chorus of whoops and hollers when he finally did step in sight of the men. Apparently this new regulation was fast becoming a highly anticipated event.

"Hey Nurse! I have a bedpan here ya might wanna change."

"Blimey! Take my temperature Doc, cause I'm hot all over."

Medic didn't have the inner strength to take it in his stride like Spy did. Every jibe stung as much as a hypodermic needle. Occasionally he would take the bait and snap back with vitriol. "Ja, ja. Let's all haff a big chuckle. Perhaps you vill not find it so funny tomorrow vhen nobody is healing your severed limbs!"

A large palm squeezed his shoulder and momentarily distracted Medic from the jeering crowd.

"Doktor does not look so bad." Heavy looked down at Medic sheepishly.

"Ah Heavy," Medic sagged. He was tired of fighting back. "You are alvays kind. But you do not need to lie."

Heavy's eyebrows crinkled together in a frown. "Is not so fair. Doktor is always helping team. I could not kill so many coward babies without."

"Zhat is true, but ze imbecile Soldier does not see it zhat way. I am resigned to play zhis absurd role until he grows a brain."

Heavy listened to Medic silently and twiddled his enormous fingers, occasionally sneaking glances at the hem of Medic's dress. Medic didn't have the patience for indirect hints. He huffed and looked Heavy in the eye. "If you haff somezing to say, zhen say it!"

Heavy hesitated, and then said; "I do not lie. Doktor does look nice…"

Any response that hung on Medic's breath would never be known. Demoman was quick to interrupt the pair with a pained expression stretched across his face.

"Ah don't mean tae interrupt yer pleasantries, but ah got a wee bitova problem Doc."

"Oh, so you are running out of obscene comments to say about me?"

"Eh…" A bead of sweat dripped down Demo's brow. "Nooo. I ne'er do a thing like tha'. Honest ta god."

Medic peered at Demoman in suspicion. His distress seemed genuine enough, but when wearing a frilly nurse's outfit, Medic couldn't be too sure.

Demoman gripped the front of Medic's dress with white knuckles. "Please Doc, yea've got no idea."

"Would Doktor like help?" Heavy watched over the scene, more than happy to step in and take preventative action.

Medic looked around the room and at all the juvenile men who were still looking at him and elbowing each other swapping crude jokes. It dawned on him that this was exactly the opportunity he was looking for.

He grabbed Demoman and pressed a hand to his forehead in a pantomime of medical care. "Mein gott! You are ill. Dying even! I must take you to ze infirmary at once. Ve can't delay!"

Heavy hovered over them looking confused. "Leetle man does not look so sick."

"Trust me Heavy, I am a doctor. Zhis is a very serious case. It might take all night. No need to follow me." And then as an afterthought he added; "and don't let anyvun interrupt!"

He pushed the grateful Scot out through the door. Demoman was clearly in a sensitive state. The way he walked reminded Medic of a cowboy from one of those films that Scout liked so much. It was peculiar but Medic was not the one to complain right now.

As soon as they reached the infirmary, Medic shut and locked the door with lightning speed and leaned against it sighing, relieved to be away from the mockery. "Schweinhunds," he murmured.

"I knoo yer havin' a moment an all, bu' I have a pressin' matter tae attend to."

"Ach! Fine." Medic kicked off his ridiculous slippers and pulled out some fresh gloves from the supply cabinet. He snapped them on, satisfied to have a familiar piece of clothing back on his person. The tulle material of his dress was beginning to itch against his thighs when he walked. He was sure that actual candy stripers did not have that particular design incorporated in their uniforms. It was impractical if anything else.

"So vhat is ze problem?" He assessed Demoman's pained posture. He remained standing, even though the medical table was right next to him. "Constipation? You really must amend your diet, Herr Demo. Zhere is not too much fiber in ethanol."

"Ah… s'not quite right but ye gettin' warmer."

Curious, Medic approached Demo. "Do you haff an injury from ze battle today zhat I vas not made aware of?"

"Ehh, not exactly. Listen doc, I cannae take much more a' this."

"Vell, I cannot treat you if you do not describe your symptoms."

At this, Demoman's discomfort only seemed to increase. He gripped his flak jacket and moved his weight from foot to foot. "Ye' promise ta tell noone aboot this? I'm not sure ah can live it doon."

"Demo, you are trying my patience. Please remove your garments so zhat I can inspect you, danke."

Demoman tenderly turned to face the table. He took great care to unbuckle his pants, allowing them to drop down in a crumpled heap around his ankles. He groaned and bent over slightly to rest his arms against the gurney. "If ye have any forceps, tha' be mightily appreciated."

Medic approached curiously. "So vat is ze prob-MEIN GOTT!"

Demoman buried his face in his hands. "Ah knoo! But I cannae get it out! Ye've got tae help me!"

How Demoman had managed it, Medic would not know. Inserted deep into his rectum was the toe end of a shiny black high heel shoe. The stiletto of this foreign object pressed against his testicles, looking very uncomfortable. It was simultaneously comical and horrifying.

"Demo, vhat is the meaning of zhis?"

"I couldnae help me'self Doc. It's been so long since ah' felt the touch of a lass. All these pretty clothes have been drivin' me crazy."

"And so you thought inserting Spy's shoe into your anus vould be an adequate substitute? You are a disturbed man Herr Demo." Medic rummaged through the supply cabinet again and put another pair of gloves over the top of his first pair. He didn't want to risk catching Demoman's mental illness via skin contact.

Demoman hung his head in shame. "Jus' get me out of this. Ah, promise I'll ne'er touch a shoe again."

Medic pulled a chair over and sat down to begin the unpleasant job of removing the item in question. "You vill be lucky if you haff not perforated your bowel." He smeared some medical lubricant across Demo's orifice and began to slowly tug at the shoe.

Demoman jumped. "Ah, tha's colder than a penguin's tit."

"I am afraid you haff only yourself to blame. If I vas no so disgusted, I vould be impressed. Spy is a size 12."

It took some time, but Medic was finally able to extract the shoe. He scrunched his nose as he threw it into a nearby bedpan. Demoman was nearly transcendent with relief.

"Ahhhh, oh me lord. Oh mother o' Christ! Ah feel like ah've shat a horse."

As a matter of precaution, Medic trained his medigun on Demoman's exposed buttocks. He let the healing vapours do their job while Demoman panted, still bent over the table. "Zhere appears to be no permanent damage. Except perhaps to my psyche."

"Ye a gift from God Doctor."

"You are not excused yet. I feel it necessary to give you a thorough psychiatric examination."

Demoman wiggled his hips, still basking in the glow of relief. Finally he pulled his pants back up and moved to sit comfortably on the bed. Now that there wasn't a shoe wedged up his nether regions, he could concentrate on other matters.

Specifically, the fact that Medic was dressed in a nurse's outfit.

"Yea have a real woman's touch Doc. Are ye goin tae charge me for this?"

"Okay! Ze psychiatric assessment is ovah!" He rose from his seat and walked to the door, his skirt bouncing with each stride. Unlocking and opening it, he gestured at the corridor. "Out. Now."

"Alright, alright. Ah can take a hint ye crank." Demoman slid of the table and walked through the door. He looked back at the Medic with a sly smile. "It must be tha' time o' the month."

Medic slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.