hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

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All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

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Maybe this prompt is inspired by this fic, because it's been linked around here before, but just to make sure: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5036926

Also, seconded.

Well, here it is: the end! Hopefully it's what you wanted out of your prompt, OP!

“Come now, Soldier. Do you still believe that you are human? This arm is not your arm. You are better than human now. I have made you more, and you belong to me. Eat, and you will be free of your lingering confusion about your place in the world. Cast off the weak thing you were, and eat.”

“He’s right, you know.” Captain America stands in a corner of the room, unnoticed till now. “The very first thing you used that abomination for was to kill. I would have done anything to rescue Bucky. Do you really think I’m still interested in rescuing you?”

Buck - the Soldier - wrenches half-heartedly at the restraints around his right arm. Chains jangle, harsh and metallic, but do not break. He could say no again. Hungry snakes wind through his belly, and the tremors in his flesh limbs have grown to a constant low-level hum of quivering muscle, distracting and obvious to everyone in the room.

He could still say no.

Saliva pools in his mouth, sticky sweet and cloying with the smell of his arm on the table thick in his nose.

“Your hesitance will get you nowhere, Soldier.” Zola has moved closer while Bucky zoned out. Captain America stands behind Zola’s left shoulder, eyes blank to hide disappointment.

His stomach gurgles, and laughter drifts from the walls like smoke. How many days has it been since he’d eaten?

“Twelve days,” Zola says.

It feels more like twelve years. The metal arm lays useless at his side, deactivated by clever switches built into his shoulder. The fingers are still stained copper from the dead doctor’s blood. It flakes from the groves, falling to the floor like autumn leaves. Soon, he will be stripped bare, down to his bones like a tree in winter.

“My Winter Soldier.” Bucky jerks again as Zola’s oily voice slides down his spine. He is too close, so close Bucky can feel him standing right behind the chair, though his eyes are fixed on the table in front of him. The table, and the arm. Would it really be so bad to eat it? He is the creature in the chair, and the arm is just chunks of meat, really. He can’t even feel it. It is no more a part of him than the table it sits on.

He will have to lean forward to eat it, like an animal. He feels like an animal, hungry and snarling and scared like a rabid dog. A dog doesn’t think about its actions, just tries whatever it can to avoid more pain. That doesn’t sound so bad to Bucky.

“There,” Zola says, petting a hand through his hair when he takes the first bite. Bucky is too tired to even recoil. “Does it not feel good to obey?”

It feels like fat sticking to his tongue, scraps of himself forming a choking ball in his throat.

“Water,” he says. He can’t see Zola, but the man must give some sort of signal. A few minutes later, a bowl of water is placed next to plate in front of Bucky. He lowers his head, lapping like a dog, and that does feel good. He’s never felt anything as good as the cool water sliding down his throat, washing down the cloying meat in its wake.

Suddenly, he is ravenous. The next bites are so easy, and so good. The taste is not unlike the canned meat he used to eat in Brooklyn when fresh meat was too expensive or unavailable. There is a faint metallic tange that clings to it, and the slight sliminess of meat that has started to go bad, but it is still sets saliva flooding his mouth, dripping on the plate as he eats.

He doesn't know why he waited so long to give in. Resistance was always a pointless endeavor. It only takes moments to finish off what had just minutes before seemed such an insurmountable task. He hardly realizes he’s licking the plate until Zola’s hand is back in his hair, guiding his head away. “Good boy,” Zola praises, and the Soldier preens.

Across the room, Captain America smiles at him, small like Steve used to be small. “There you go, Buck,” he says. “There’s the end of the line.” The words cause a twinge of discomfort in the Soldier’s gut, but he forcibly dismisses them.

When he is unshackled from the chair, he follows his owners meekly. They lead him to a different cell from the one he previously occupied, one that has an actual mattress against the back wall and two bowls on the floor, one filled with water. He attacks it greedily as soon as he is shoved through the door. There is laughter from outside the bars of his new cell, but it is as inconsequential as the fading image of the man in a red, white, and blue outfit.

He tells himself the tears that plink like raindrops into the bowl are also inconsequential. He almost manages to believe it.

(a!a) Woops, and I've just threaded this in completely the wrong place! Please pretend it's under the prior installments where it is supposed to be??

LORD.

In a good way? Thanks for commenting!

*eeee* Poor bucky! :( I love the hallucinatin - the idea that it leaves when he breaks.

I loved this so much

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Re: Canibalism, Body Horror

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Re: Canibalism, Body Horror - Fill: Dead Meat [4/4]

Re: Canibalism, Body Horror - Fill: Dead Meat [4/4]

Re: Canibalism, Body Horror - Fill: Dead Meat [4/4]

Re: Canibalism, Body Horror - Fill: Dead Meat [4/4]

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