Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

[trashmod]

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to mcu_trash.

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Comments

Fill: Medical equipment is for people part 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

K traded the remote for M's coat-hanger. "It'd be easier to just sew it shut."
"Tac team would notice," M countered.
"And they won't notice when their dicks bang into this giant fucking staple?"
"Not if you put it deep enough. It's gotta be you, you have smaller hands."
"My hands are average," K growled.
They stared at the Asset slumped in the chair. A bulge of angry red tissue had begun to creep back out, slightly lifting its hairless testicles.
"Fine," said K. "Where's some gloves?"
M got her a pair of disposable black nitrile gloves for working with harsh chemicals.
"Lube?"
M shrugged.
K knelt between the Asset's knees and pushed the prolapse back in. The Asset's chest heaved. "Stop straining," she ordered, and the Asset made a rising-and-falling hum which was the nearest thing to "I can't" that it was allowed to say. She pinched the points of the wire between three fingers, narrowed her hand into a wedge, and began to work her way into him. The Asset shut its eyes and gnawed on its bite guard, breathing slowly.
When she got to the base of her thumb, she turned to look at M over her shoulder. "This feels really wrong."
"It's Strike," M said. "Buncha animals."
"I mean it feels rough and stiff. It's not healthy."
"How do you know?" M asked impatiently.
"I've stuck a finger up a dude's ass before," K said. "It did not feel like this."
"If you've done it before, then why were you making such a big deal over it?" M gestured expansively with the remote.
"Maybe I don't want to be thinking about the Asset's anal prolapse next time I slip a couple fingers to my boyfriend, ever think about that?" K snapped. She twisted her wrist and shoved, and the Asset made a cut-off yelp, then began to hyperventilate. "Oh, fuck, it's over my glove. Oh, gross."
"OK, good, good," M said, striding forward to hover over her shoulder. "Now push the wire through." He pointed low on the Asset's abdomen where an appendectomy scar might go. "Try to make it come out right there."
The Asset's body heaved continually with its rapid breaths.
"I don't want to staple through something important," K protested. She torqued her hand back and forth. "Maybe if I move everything out of the way. Hey, push down on him. Right here."
M reluctantly bent down and pressed down just to the inside of the Asset's hip gone, as K wriggled and forced in more and more of her wrist from inside. He felt her hand bump against his through the Asset's body.
"Stay right there," K said, and with her free hand, she pushed up on the base of the wire.
The Asset stopped breathing, the only sound the soft clicks of its throat and the creak of its teeth clenched in the bite block. M felt something sliding and popping under his hand, one point, two points, then two hard bulges under the skin. K, watching, gave a last hard shove against the wire, and they shoved out, bloody and slightly bent. One of the wires scratched M's palm.
"Fuck," he snarled, gripping his hand and squeezing blood out of the cut. "Probably covered in Strike jizz, I'm gonna need prophylaxis. Fuck."
K pulled the ends of the wires out snug and bent them flat. While M soaped his hand in the sink, she got a pair of needlenose pliers and twisted them together, then snipped the ends short. M's other toolbox furnished a box-cutter. She broke the tip off the extendable blade to freshen it, then cut through the Asset's skin between the places the wires emerged, so the whole mess sank into the wound. A little steel still showed, so she pinched the skin up and duck-taped over it.
"We're done," K announced.
"Thank god," M said. "Start another IV, he's probably burned through all his antifreeze by now."
Placing IVs and administering sedatives and cryoprotectants were supposed to be the only real medical tasks K and M were responsible for. K washed the blood and mucus off her wrist, then strapped the Asset up with a tourniquet and got started. It took ten minutes to safely deliver the antifreeze, during which they cleaned up and figured out how to file a reasonable incident report that would result in M getting STD prophylaxis without having to explain why or alerting his wife.
At the end of it, the room stank of garlic, from the antifreeze on the Asset's breath, and it looked marginally calmer. Its eyes were open and tracking. It appeared to have burst a couple blood vessels.
"Asset, when you are released from the chair, you will stand, dress, and await further instruction," M ordered. K had the remote back. M flipped open the restraints as fast as he could, then jogged backwards several steps.
The Asset let the mouthguard drop, foamy, to the floor. It braced itself on its arms and pushed up cautiously, got its feet on the ground, and shuffled, stiffly, tenderly, like an old man. It stopped by the folding chair and leaned down, bracing one arm on the seat as it maneuvered its bare leg back into its trousers. Sat down to replace and lace up its boot. Knelt to retrieve its mask and belt.
"I'll call Strike. Have 'em get him into the vest, but give 'em a time limit this time," M said.
"It."
"What?"
"You said "him.""
"Sorry. Long day."
The Asset threaded on the belt, buckled on the mask. Then it shuffled on its knees to the cryo vest. In slow, halting movements, it swung it on and buckled it shut. Then it stood, letting out a soft moan, and stood placidly, facing the cryo pod.
"Or that," K said, lowering the remote a fraction.
"You know, I think it does know we were trying to help it." M opened the cryo pod door. "Asset, get in. Night-night."
The Asset shuffled inside as fast as it appeared to be able, and stood, ready to have its cryo vest plugged in.
"Thassaboy," M said, and patted it proudly on the shoulder. It stood quietly and let him work.

-fin

Re: Fill: Medical equipment is for people part 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

Not OP but thank you so much for the fill!!

Re: Fill: Medical equipment is for people part 3/3

[(Anonymous)]

OP here, thank you so. fuckin. much. for. this. This is probably one of the nastiest things I've read on the meme so far and I absolutely love it. You got Hydra's technical approach to the asset 100% how I imagined it and it's so refreshing to get a fill that captured the perspective of the narration so incredibly right. And it's deliciously filthy and fucked up too. Well done, anon. Well done.