Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

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.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

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

Comments

Fill: Before Snowfall.

[mirevia]

To say that Steve was willing to be patient would’ve been an understatement. He was so happy to have Bucky back with him that he really didn’t mind the uncomfortable silences that would accompany those times when his love would get lost in the fog of bitter, unhappy memories. He was willing to give him all the time and space he needed to heal, would smile and remind him everything was ok whenever he ran away from physical affection. Bucky was alright with hugs and kisses and such… but there was nothing of the fiery, lusty young Sergeant he’d been in the old times. Steve never pushed. If his partner wasn’t willing to get physical with him, if he was shy to the point where he didn’t even change clothes in front of anyone, Steve was alright with it.

He never pushed, just happy to take whatever he was given. He was genuinely ok with never sharing a bed or a shower, just sharing tender touches and kisses in the safety of everyday life, and unwavering and fierce support in the battlefield. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t wonder what exactly had happened to his love to change him like that.

Nobody questioned him when he let Bucky get vicious with any Hydra scum they found. They just watched as Bucky tore them apart with his bare hands, just looked away when Bucky slowly but surely jammed his metal fingers into Rollins’ eye sockets…

As things were, nobody was surprised when Bucky’s fingers curled around the old scientist’s throat, slamming him against a vintage bookshelf in his fancy home in Belarus.

“Are you here to kill me, Asset?” the old fucker said, “go ahead. Do it.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck Snowfall is.”

“Oh, aren’t you dying to know?”

Bucky punched him a single time, cold and accurate like a missile, making his nose explode in a red fountain.

The bastard laughed.

“Don’t you remember, Soldier? Of course you don’t. You might remember some things, but not that. So I’ll tell you. Do you remember the milking? Didn’t you think there was a purpose for that, right before we…?”

Bucky punched him again, harder, and this time the man cried out in pain.

“Not what… but rather who,” the son of a bitch grinned at him, his mouth a mess of bright blood and shattered teeth. “Project Snowfall are the Winter boys, remember? And you’ll never find them. Did you think you were Hydra’s greatest success? That you had managed to escape? You were just a means to an end; and when the real project was done, you were nothing but somewhat useful cannon fodder. They let you get away, run with your tail between your legs like the useless neutered dog you are…”

Bucky took a step back, letting the doctor’s body fall to the floor with a sick wet sound, ignoring the shouts all around him. He fought the soldiers around him, turned some of the stun batons against those wielding them, and endured the ones he couldn’t prevent from making contact with his body. He snapped necks and punched hard enough to reduce the contents of someone’s torso to a bloody goo inside their skin, but eventually, they were too many. Somewhere, a voice said a word, and the world went black.

When he came to, he opened his eyes and tensed up as he realized he was restrained to a chair. Not The Chair, but one that was designed for him as well, and nearly as terrible as the other one. He squirmed, and wasn’t surprised to see he was naked.

“He’s awake,” a pale woman announced from next to his left ankle, her voice was familiar in its impersonal, cool tone.

“Good,” the alpha dog at his right replied. “I want him to know exactly what’s happening.”

There was a snort from somewhere behind him. He didn’t like that he couldn’t see this other threat.

“What good is it, if he’ll forget everything once he’s wiped?”

“Not necessarily,” the pretty lady said. “How do you think he’s trained? Even the programming relies heavily on muscle memory.”

“And if there’s something the body learns well, it’s pain,” the slightly older man said, touching his flesh arm as if it was a piece of expensive furniture. “Let’s get started.”

The woman moved away for a moment, and then returned to stand between his legs, spread as they were with restraints he couldn’t break. Her gloved fingers were as cold and clinical as her voice as she grabbed his balls and jammed a needle into them, first one, then the other.

She said something about twenty four hours as they all left the room, but the Soldier was too wrapped up in the sensation between his legs. It started as a tingle down there, getting colder and colder until he groaned, first in discomfort and then in pain, creeping down his thighs and up his abdomen. He fought to get his legs closed, but the restraints had been designed for him and didn’t give even a fraction of an inch. The ice turned to fire, and it was after hours of writhing that he actually looked down, surprised to see a rubber band around the base of his cock, and shocked to find that his lower body wasn’t actually bleeding or on fire.

The pain went on forever, the only change was the technician that came every now and then to replace the bag of IV fluid hooked to his arm and chest.

By the time they returned, followed by a buzzing team of techs, all his skin felt like it was on fire despite the cold sweat that rolled off him, and his body was shaking of pure exhaustion.

“Pozhaluysta,” he begged, and got a big mouth guard shoved between his teeth for his trouble.

“I’ll proceed with the extraction,” the doctor announced, and then she received something from one of the assistant techs. The Soldier wasn’t a stranger to pain, but the tube was cold and too thick, and his cock felt like it was on fire already. He was sure he was bleeding as the thing was forced up his hypersensitive flesh, but when he looked down, the doctor had managed to stuff the thing into him.

The band was removed, and he was suddenly painfully hard.

Someone handed the doctor another thing. The Soldier didn’t get a good look at it, but he could feel it was cold, hard and big when it was shoved up his ass.

He grunted as his muscles contracted, trying to reject the strange object, and suddenly, his body froze as a new sensation coursed through him. He was scared, which was scary in its own because it was such an unusual feeling… just like the waves of violent pleasure that mixed with the pain as he orgasmed, hard. His body seemed to deflate after a moment of white agony, but the doctor didn’t stop, moving the object inside him rhythmically, in and out, soft, then hard, slow, then fast. He threw his head back and just screamed into his very effective gag, begging that it would stop.

When it finally stopped, he could barely focus his eyes on the object held in front of his eyes. It was a jar.

“Thank you for this. This might be the best thing you’ll ever do for us, you know?”

It looked like it was full of… But it couldn’t be, some half-forgotten part of his mind protested, because it was way too much. It wasn’t possible that…

The jar was handed to one of the techs, who held it as if it was the Holy Grail.

“Now you listen to me, you son of a whore,” the man in the suit said as he leaned forward to caress his cheek tenderly. “This is what happens to dogs who bite their master’s hand.”

The chair was adjusted just a bit, and the Soldier was suddenly forced to look down his body as the doctor and a couple of techs wiped at him with something that smelled strongly of antiseptics. The tube was efficiently and painfully pulled out of his cock, and an assistant taped the flaccid shaft up against his quivering abdomen.

A tech placed a small metallic tray on his stomach, and he stared at it for what felt like an eternity lost in a fog of lab-white light and dull ache, until he ache flared into fresh pain. His eyes refocused, taking sight of his thighs’ muscles tense as parachute cords as they tried to close to fend off the intrusion, the hands holding his flesh still as another hand made a precise cut right down his scrotum.

The doctor’s hand worked the scalpel down his flesh again and again, delicately slicing him open. He stared as the scalpel was put aside and then forceps were placed in the doctor’s waiting hand. The tool went into his bleeding sac, and he screamed when he felt it close around his vulnerable orb. He didn’t stop as his ball was yanked out with careful movements that didn’t take notice of his pain. The scalpel was back, and this time it sliced right over his testicle, removing the thin white membrane that protected it. He wasn’t aware of his own tears, of the screams that only got stronger when the doctor pulled hard on the organ to expose more of the cord that attached it to its owner’s body. When a clamp was put to the cord, the Soldier felt it right up in the abdomen, a wrenching agony that made him nauseous and made his teary eyes see white sparks.

The doctor moved in a careful and precise way, her hands almost loving as she applied suture and cut, cut, cut, until she had freed the abused organ from his body and held it in her hand as if it was a gem to be admired under the right light. He was sure he was going to puke as she dropped it on the tray that rested on his stomach. Suddenly, he felt as if the tray burned him and tried to dislodge it, but his body refused to obey.

The other man, the one who’d remained hidden behind his shoulder, came into view. The Soldier felt like he knew him. He was younger than the other one, dressed in a militaristic casual way. He poked at the severed organ with a finger.

“Beautiful,” he commented.

“There’s a slight swelling from the cocktail we used to increase sperm production,” the doctor said as she casually gestured for the forceps.

The Soldier tensed, tried to break out of the restraints, tried to close his legs, tried to look away, tried to beg them to stop as the whole torture was repeated.

The noise he was making by the time the second organ was dropped on the tray on his abdomen couldn’t be called sobbing, a part or his mind supplied. It was too raw and too animalistic to be anything of the sort.

He couldn’t look away as both balls were almost lovingly picked up and put in a jar full of a cloudy liquid and set on a nearby metal table.

The military guy casually grabbed a gun from his hip holster and shot every one of the techs without pause. The doctor never looked up from where she was calmly stitching the Soldier up.

“There,” she said, setting down the threaded needle and the forceps she’d been using. “Taking into account the accelerated healing, he should be ready for deployment by the day after tomorrow.”

“He’s ready to serve now,” the older man said, back to caressing his face as if he was petting a dog. “Aren’t you, beautiful? You’re ready to be a good boy and never act up again, aren’t you? You’re good, and you’re alright…”

The Soldier felt like he was going to puke. The sensation just kept escalating, until he gave in, he bent over and puked. His whole body was shivering, his flesh hand pressed up somewhere below his navel, where the ache of the tug and the sharp pain of the scalpel slicing through cords had never faded, even after who knows how many years and wipes and missions.

“Bucky! Buck! That’s it, look at me, Buck. You’re alright…”

The steely blue Steve had loved for almost a century wasn’t sharp or fiery; instead, it was full of watery, tortured pain, even as it went to look at the slumped body of the man who’d ordered him castrated like a field horse.

“I’m not, Steve. And I’ll never be.”

 

Re: Fill: Before Snowfall.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh no oh no, I'm so excited for this this is GREAT so far

Re: Fill: Before Snowfall.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh shoot, this is finished isn't it? Well, it was excellent!

Re: Fill: Before Snowfall.

[mirevia]

I wrote it as a one-shot... but I might be persuaded to write more on this if someone is interested and can push me in the right direction :3

Re: Fill: Before Snowfall.

[(Anonymous)]

"his thighs’ muscles tense as parachute cords" BUCKYYY

Re: Fill: Before Snowfall.

[(Anonymous)]

<3