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.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Round 4] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive] [Round 5 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Comments

Fill: Good to the Last Drop (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Steve wasn’t certain what time it was, or even what day it was when he decided he should ask someone about the change of assignment Carter had mentioned in her letter. Time had begun to stretch and blur with the new procedures. Yes, technically he was on duty constantly now, but Steve had nothing to occupy his thoughts except the letter. Carter had said that Bucky’s unit was missing. Not confirmed dead. Only missing. And here Steve was, as far from the war as he’d been back when he was getting kicked out of every recruiting station from the Bronx to Staten Island.

Except now, Steve could fight. He could endure pain, he was strong, and his stamina was well proven. Erskine had expected more from him than this. And if the brass thought that just because he was only one man, he wouldn’t be any good to the war effort, well, he’d never prove them wrong from here. He’d gone along with their experiments for long enough, hadn’t he? Surely they had enough genetic material now for all the testing they could do in a lifetime. As soon as Steve got a chance, he’d convince whoever he needed to. He was getting out of here.

Steve glanced at the clock and saw that it wasn’t long before the 7pm cleaning session, one of his two daily breaks from the collection procedures. He flexed his toes and fingers, which was all he could do in the way of fidgeting. The only other person in the room, a bored Army private reading the paper, took no notice. A shudder passed through Steve, the bell clanged, the red light flashed, and Steve felt a peak in the distant pleasure that had become a background buzz of sensation. The private turned a page of his paper.

Steve would ask to talk to his commanding officer, he decided. He wasn’t certainly exactly who that was, but someone had to know. No one higher ranking than the doctors had been in the lab for several weeks. And come to think of it, even the doctors had been appearing less and less often as they declared themselves satisfied with the efficiency of the procedure. Steve had to admit they had things running quite smoothly, and certainly much more effectively than they’d started out.

The new collection procedure had him positioned him on all fours, legs slightly spread for easier maintenance, and suspended slightly off the ground at a convenient working height for the nurses. This configuration had been deemed optimal because the mechanical phallus could be set up behind him with room to move, and the hydraulic semen collection device positioned below him, taking advantage of the increased drainage provided by gravity. Instead of the old table, the engineers had rigged up a web of straps, leather reinforced with steel wire, too strong for Steve to easily break if he lost control of himself during a particularly powerful climax.

The various loops kept Steve safely immobilized and distributed his weight evenly. They also allowed personnel to reposition his limbs without disturbing the collection procedure, for example, in his hour-long “exercise” period daily, during which the nurses stretched and flexed his arms and legs one at a time. Dr. Schroeder had said he didn’t think Steve’s muscles would atrophy from misuse due to his increased healing factor, but that he’d rather be safe than sorry.

At least in this position, with his head positioned straight ahead, Steve could see a portion of the lab’s control panels, the clock, and the room’s only door, so who knew when people were arriving or leaving. Dr. Keller had also explained that they could easily communicate with him in this position, though they hadn’t thought it necessary for him to talk since back when they were rigging the straps in this configuration, and one of the engineers kept asking if this strap or that was too tight.

It had been difficult enough to make himself understood through the wide leather gag that muffled sound, but with the new model, it was impossible. Dr. Mayer had fitted Steve with a phallus-shaped gag, one that was held in with a strap that fastened behind Steve’s head. He’d said something about oral stimulation helping induce climax, which Steve vaguely remembered hearing about before, but Nurse Rathjen had hid a smile behind her hand during the explanation, so Steve figured there was something about that he was missing.

The phallus was thick, keeping his jaw stretched, and long enough to fill his mouth without choking him. It was impossible to keep himself from drooling, but the cleaning staff regularly mopped around him, and no one else acknowledged the mess. The flexible material--rubber, perhaps--had some give to it, but not the silky smoothness of a real cock. Still, once in the long hours of the night, with only one inattentive private on duty, he had thought of Bucky. Of being on his knees with Bucky, digging his skinny fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and thrilling to the stifled sounds of Bucky’s desperate moans. He had sucked on the phallus-shaped gag and imagined looking up at Bucky, seeing that cocky grin. Maybe going to the bathhouse again with Bucky, letting one of those hungry, smiling strangers nail him from behind while he sucked Bucky. He’d been scrawny then, all elbows and hard angles, but his new body was sturdy and strong. He could take a hard pounding, and Bucky would love the thrill of it, sharing Steve out and watching him take it so good, watching him squirm and groan, watching him come.

With machines pumping into him and squeezing him while he sucked on the rubber cock in his mouth, Steve had come hard, feeling something like real satisfaction as he imagined Bucky tipping his chin up to deliver a hot kiss and tasting himself on Steve’s tongue.

But the procedure didn’t leave Steve much time to indulge his fantasies. No sooner had the aftershocks of his orgasm died down than the machines whirred to life again, slower now, but marching him steadily forward towards his next climax. And he’d been reminded, then, that Bucky wouldn’t feel that pleasure, or any other, ever again. So Steve hadn’t indulged in those distractions since.

The bell rang, the red light flashed again, and Steve closed his eyes briefly as a wave of release swept through him. When he opened them again, personnel had begun to arrive for 7pm cleaning session. Steve recognized Nurse Rathjen and Nurse Gilbert, as well as a newer nurse who he thought might be called something like Collins. No one had introduced them.

As the minutes ticked down, Steve swallowed around his gag and rehearsed what he wanted to say. Something like, “Pardon me, m’am. Could you let the CO know I need to speak with him?” Or maybe, “Take me to see the man in charge right now.” The thought of being released from his bonds for the first time in weeks, of walking somewhere under his own power gave Steve a jolt of longing at least twice as strong as the simmering lust that was his constant companion.

When the clock struck the hour, the assembled nurses approached Steve, chatting lightly amongst themselves, and each attending to her particular duty. Nurse Rathjen unstrapped Steve’s gag, pulled it gently from his mouth, and set it on a metal tray. At last, here was his chance. Steve flexed his jaw and tried to swallow, though his throat felt very dry, as it always did right before his feedings.

“Nurse,” he tried to say, but it came out only as a strangled croak. He licked his lips and tried again. “Nurse?”

“Hush now,” Nurse Rathjen said. She gripped his jaw to position him correctly, and with skilled, practiced movements, inserted the feeding tube down through his throat, effectively silencing him.

“But that’s the thing,” Nurse Gilbert was saying. “There wasn’t time to find a dress. He had orders for the next day.” She had unhooked the pumping mechanism from around Steve’s cock already, and was now soaping up Steve’s genitals with warm water and a soft cloth.

“But her uniform? It just doesn’t seem very romantic,” said Nurse Collins. She’d pulled the mechanical phallus out of the way and was inserting the lubricated tip of an enema tube into his passage. “Ugh, this gets looser every time. I’m going to have to hold it in place.”

“Just put it further in, where it isn’t so stretched. It should stay, then,” Rathjen said. She was carefully emptying a large syringe of nutritional formula into the feeding tube. “And of course it’s not romantic, Edith. There’s only one reason she’d insist on getting married before he left. I’d bet my cigarette ration he’s got her in trouble.”

“What a thing to say!” Nurse Gilbert finished rinsing Steve’s cock and carried the bowl over water over to the tray with her other equipment. “I swear, sometimes you just like to stir up stories. And when she’s not even here to say differently.” She picked up a cloth bag that sloshed with the melting ice inside it, and returned to her short stool at Steve’s side. She hefted Steve’s cock and balls and firmly pressed the ice pack to them. Steve jerked in his bonds and sucked in breath around the feeding tube, and Gilbert petted a hand down his flank to calm him. “There’s lots of other reasons a gal might want to tie the knot.”

“Viv’s right! What about just wanting him to know you’re going to be faithful to him, that he’ll have you to come home to?” Nurse Collins held the enema bag up beside her, and Steve could feel the warm fluid rushing into him. “That’s why me and Stuart got engaged. He wanted me to have a ring on my finger so no one on the base would try anything.”

“That’s no deterrent for some of these wolves. I’ve seen the way Private Patterson makes eyes at you,” Rathjen said. She set down the first, emptied syringe and picked up another from the tray. “He certainly wouldn’t let another man’s ring scare him off if you gave the say-so.”

“Well I wouldn’t!” Collins jerked the enema hose out of Steve and slapped the bedpan down on the tray below him with unnecessary force. “I love Stuart, and he loves me, and as soon as he comes back, we’re getting married. I wouldn’t care if I had to wear my uniform to do it.”

“All right, all right,” Rathjen said with a chuckle. “Touchy. For all I know, those two are just as much in love as you and Stuart.”

“Does this usually take this long?” Gilbert asked. Though he couldn’t turn his head to see what she meant, Steve heard the frown in her voice. The other two nurses came around the side to look.

“It’s been more of a problem lately.” Rathjen bustled over to the far counter and returned with a bucket of ice water. “Here, just dip them in.”

Glibert tugged Steve’s cock and balls downward as Rathjen positioned the bucket, dunking him in the freezing water. Steve’s yelp of surprise was not entirely muffled by the feeding tube, but no one so much as looked in his direction.

“There,” Rathjen said as she squeezed Steve’s cock. “That should be soft enough.” She carried the bucket back across the room before returning to the feeding.

“Thank you. Now I’ll tell you, when I get married, I want a real church wedding.” Gilbert took a firm hold of Steve’s wilted cock and began inserting the catheter. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, knowing from long experience now that squirming only drew out the process. “A white dress, flowers, my daddy there to give me away. I don’t care if we have to wait until the war’s over. Walter knows that if he wants me to have and to hold, he’s going to have to live up to certain expectations.”

“Oh, I bet he will,” Collins said. “I’ve seen the two of you together. He’d fly to the moon for you.”

“We’re halfway through the feeding, girls,” Rathjen said. We’d better get a move on if we’re going to get him hooked up again on schedule.”

As they waited for the waste elimination to finish, Gilbert and Collins washed Steve down, starting at opposite ends and undoing one strap at a time. They wiped down his skin with a warm cloth and applied lotion before retightening a strap and moving on to the next one. Steve let his mind drift away from their conversation, sinking into the discomfort of the cleaning procedures that were at least a break from the monotony of the rest of his day.

At last, Nurse Rathjen had emptied the last of the syringes into Steve’s feeding tube, leaving his belly uncomfortably tight and full. Gilbert drew out the catheter, coated Steve’s penis with lubricant, and gave it a few quick strokes to revive his flagged erection before replacing the hydraulic device and sealing it tightly. Collins squirted a generous measure of lubricant into Steve’s rectum and repositioned the mechanical phallus, which slid back inside him easily. From behind Steve, she raised her voice to call to the private on duty, “Burroughs, could you make a note that this instrument will need to be switched out with a larger size soon?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and idly scribbled something on the clipboard in front of him.

Gilbert was returning her stool to its storage spot beneath a cabinet, and Collins was balancing a covered bedpan on her tray while gathering the other supplies she’d used. Rathjen rinsed Steve’s gag in warm water and positioned it close to her on a tray before she drew the feeding tube slowly out.

Steve coughed a little, and swallowed twice. He’d say something now. Surely they wouldn’t refuse him, not when his request was so reasonable. He had only just tried to speak again when Rathjen shoved the gag between his teeth and fastened it so tightly the straps bit into the corners of his mouth.

Steve grunted and tried to catch her eyes. She smiled down at him, tapped her finger smartly against his nose, and said, “No fussing now. You’re fine.” She gathered her tray of supplies and headed for the door behind the other two nurses, leaving Steve alone with a single unattentive guard and the machines whirring once more into motion.

Re: Fill: Good to the Last Drop (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Hnnnnnnh this is amazing

Re: Fill: Good to the Last Drop (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

*fans self* The thought of him suspended in that state of constant stimulation and pleasure, coming again and again and again while the machines do their work, is very . . . um. Very erotic. Thank you for this delightful gift to the dumpster!

Re: Fill: Good to the Last Drop (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Holy shit, I can't believe I waited this long to read this fill. It's fantastic! You write the details very well. Steve's balls so swollen that it hurts to walk (loved the image of him waddling down the hall). And thinking about Bucky when he comes.

Thank you for this amazing fill, anon!

Re: Fill: Good to the Last Drop (8/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I really love the idea of Steve's loose ass? Like, the 24/7 milking procedure means the serum can't let him recover...