hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

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Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

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Specialist Weeks had been chosen for this for three reasons.

One, she had been the one to propose the initiative to re-train the Asset in the first place, outlining a comprehensive plan and defending her reasons excellently.

Two, she was, at 6'9", the tallest woman HYDRA knew of, and more than tall enough to enforce the relationship between her and the Asset in the program. She had also been willing to undergo certain exercise regimes to get to be strong enough to hold the Asset as required, and had performed excellently.

Three, she was one of the most unflappable agents when it came to the Asset. Other agents, even ones calm with other soldiers, tended to become tense and twitchy around the Asset. It encouraged a poor misunderstanding of the Asset's object status and led to ineffective handling.

Not Agent Weeks. She remained cool and patient, and that was why as she entered the chamber outside of the Nursery, she didn't bat an eye at the report.

"He's fussy?" she asked, tilting her head at the guard, who nodded. The guards weren't allowed inside the Nursery, of course; they'd disrupt the atmosphere. Only Agent Weeks and her designated team of back-up babysitters were allowed inside until the program had progressed to Stage 4, at which point the Asset's general new designation outside of missions would be allowed to become generally known.

"Been trying to knock it over, we think," the guard explained, pointing at the security camera feed. Agent Weeks had already watched the time-lapsed version that morning as she'd woken up, drunk her coffee, and changed into soft, warm clothing--jeans with deep pockets, a soft cotton shirt, and a bright, layered cardigan. It was a sharp change from her usual combat or professional clothes, but appearances mattered with this kind of thing.

"Ahh," she said. "So the levels of the mixture have been steady?"

"As far as the bio-readers have reported, it goes up a tiny bit but the automatic feedback system's engaged just fine," another guard reported.

That had actually been the most difficult part to procure--the mixture of drugs, the supply, the bio-readers and the automated feedback-dependent system in the metal bone attachments to administer the drugs as necessary to ensure compliance. It wasn't all that difficult to make, but it had been costly, required a lot of insider trading and espionage at Stark Industries, and had risked some surgeries.

Some of the people on the committee had argued for the system to be in the arm, but as Weeks had pointed out, the arm was a weapon and needed to stay that way. The design for it had been procured by outside sources, and there was no telling what would happen if it were altered.

That, and babies didn't need prostheses. Babies could have a socket and a shot every couple of weeks, and with a special new couple of machines implanted into his spine and ribs, the drugs could be administered from inside his own body, without need for intruding on the atmosphere or needing medical scans. It was all painless.

Specialist Weeks smiled at the guards, and picked up the diaper bag. She was ready, and went into the in-between chamber and then opened up the wooden door.

"Hey baby," she called in her special new mommy-voice. "I hear you're being all fussy. Does baby need a new diaper?"

The Asset's face was faintly sweaty, and his hair was in a halo. His mouth was still covered up by the pacifier, a lovely baby-boy blue one with a little handle. He had tear tracks down his cheeks, and was half-curled in distress.

Weeks walked over, putting the bag on the bed, and reached down to pick him up. He stared at her, half-hatred, half helpless hurt.

Soon it would be adoration.

She smiled, and cooed at him, saying, "Oh, poor bu-by, all fussy and sad because baby doesn't know how to be happy in his new place yet. Oh, don't worry, baby's gonna be all taken care of. We'll take care of your pluggie and your diapers and we'll give you a bath today too, and maybe if you're a little bit better then baby can have that i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m!"

Weeks carried him over to the bed, and put down the diaper mat, and then shifted him back down. She took off the other diaper, and put it in the pail--just wet, not the other kind of messy, he wasn't yet stretched or fed enough solids for that--and cleaned him up, then gently slid the plug out, stretching his hole and watching the Asset whimper and start to sob.

"Oh, poor baby," she cooed. "But you've got to have your pluggie, baby. We'll put some special extra gooey stuff on it so it'll slide in even better or--oh, no, let's give you the special one instead! This one's a special treat for not being so bad you tried to climb out of your crib!"

He stared at her.

Weeks fetched the other plug--a fun, remote-controlled one, and lubed it up, slipping it back inside. He groaned and whimpered and cried, but his hole accepted it, his body submitting to her decisions, his muscles starting to realize that she really did know best.

She decided it was time for some more incentives. "Now, baby, shh," she said, and stroked over his cock. He jerked as much as he could, the mixture keeping him not able to move much. "Shh, shh, just feel this, just feel how big and wide and good the pluggie is," she sing-songed, using the remote to make it bigger and bigger, bringing out the ribbed textural beads and having it start to inaudibly vibrate.

The Asset broke into sweats all over as she stroked him, gently drizzling her hand with lube, and cooed, murmured, spoke to him so softly, saying, "See, baby, pluggies aren't bad, they're there to make sure you're the best baby boy in the world, a good baby who uses his diapers and pacis and smiles for mommy and babysitters," and then, just before he came, she took her hand off.

His eyes flew back open, and he stared at her, betrayed and humiliated and hurt and wanting.

"But you tried to toss and turn all the way out of your crib, and cummies aren't for widdle-biddle babies who can't even be that good," she said, gentle and scolding. Really, he was too little for this, but it was all necessary.

She'd proposed to be the one to carry out Stages 1-3 by herself for reasons.

"Now, maybe tomorrow baby'll get some really nice cummies when he's all good and happy," she said brightly. You always needed to be optimistic with the Asset, and keep your tone cheerful. "But right now baby needs a new diaper and then a new onesie, and baby can have the one with all the fuzzy kitties, and then the new mobile with all the Avengers and baby can have some yummy-nummy applesauce and mashed-up turkey and a whole sippy-cup of apple juice if you do just oooooone iddle-biddle teensy-weensy widdle thing for mommy."

The Asset looked curious, hopeful, sad.

"Baby has to smile first."

The Asset stared, and then his face started to contort. For a minute Weeks thought he'd burst into tears again, but instead he smiled, slowly and not very genuinely, but still.

"Oh, this is the bestest baby in all the whole wide world!" she said, grinning herself. "Let's get this perfect widdle guy a new paci, and then a good washcloth, and a b-a-t-h before the diaper or the fuzzy-kittie onesie," she said, absently, and the Asset's gaze wandered over to the diaper bag as she unpacked the Johnson's baby shampoo and body wash.

He was looking at the Avengers mobile, at the Captain America doll. She smiled; if the program was successful, after Stage 4 he'd be wiped and then come back out of cryo without even having to remember all the training. He'd come to her, crawling and whimpering, begging for his pluggie and pacis and crib, for her hands and capable arms and her baby-powder-smelling plastic diaper mat.

Weeks was looking forward to it.

In the meantime, she picked him up again and carried him over to the bath, putting him next to the tub as she started the water, testing it with her forearm. He didn't even kick as she put him in with bubbles. He didn't even try to struggle as she washed his hair, or scrubbed him all over, or gently put a finger in alongside the plug and traced around it, making him shiver.

It was beautiful, watching the Asset slowly start to give in. Only day five, and he was already finding comfort in it, already accepting his new position. Weeks dried him off and diapered him, setting the plug to expand another two inches in girth over the next ten hours, and dressed him up and sat him on the bed. She fed him applesauce, cooing here comes the Valkyrie every few minutes, and hugged him and spent the whole time chattering, calling him baby and honey and muffin and the cutest, her voice high and repetitious.

There was a clang from outside, and the Asset twitched towards her.

Weeks smirked as she put in the new pacifier, a pink one with octopus designs. He was already beginning to prefer her and this soft, warm room to the metal harshness of the outside world.

Only six months more, and he'd be ready for Stage 2.

That's when he'd earn the Peggy Carter teddy bear Weeks had found on Amazon.

Yessss!

"She'd proposed to be the one to carry out Stages 1-3 by herself for reasons."

ME TOO WEEKS, ME TOO.

Excuse me while I roll around in this dumpster. What do stages 2-4 look like??? Mm and the vibrating, inflatable plug, my god. AND ALL THE AVENGERS THROWAWAY REFERENCES. SO GOOD.

Holy shit. I was REALLY surprised by how turned on I was by this. You have a convert.

pls tell me you're gonna write more ;;

The Peggy Carter teddy bear I cannot even

i need moooore

this is the trash I live for

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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