#Winston also comments on being locked in the fridge

[jenjensd]

Just so people know, if anyone has Xbox Game Pass or purchased Power Wash Simulator and enjoyed it, please know pieces of video game history are on there now. Jobs from Lara Croft and Midgar (FFVII) have multiple free downloadable levels with little lore bits in the messages and it’s really fun okay?

[docholligay]

Prompt: "All knowledge is a door." -Charles de Lint; Waifs and Strays

1700 words! All of my OW universe is here, the title of this one is “The WInd at the Door” if you’re looking for time placement. Thank you for reading/commenting! 

Mercy knew things. This was her burden and her blessing. Her mother had always cautioned her, that all knowledge was a door, and when you walked through it, you could never forget the room you had entered. Sometimes you couldn’t go back to the one you had left. 

It had confused her, as a small child. Her mother loved knowledge, she soaked up Torah and science in equal measure, she lived for the pursuit of knowing things. She was a brilliant scientist, and her father was a brilliant linguist, and all her life Mercy had thought knowledge was the only thing worth striving for. How could knowledge be a trap? 

But of course, Mercy thought, working in her tiny corner of the lab, it hadn’t been that simple. Knowledge was only a door, and sometimes it led you to great places, and no one wanted to spend all their lives in one room, but, her mother had been warning her, even the greatest things come with consequences. Some doors remained locked, some doors led to darkness, some doors forced you to grapple for the knob. 

Her mother had encouraged her learning, always, but with that had tried to keep Angela’s heart even, to caution her against putting knowledge over everything. It is better to be the kinder than the smarter, my Angela. Learn things to ease the lives of others, for what did Hashem give you this gift but to show love? All knowledge is a door. Write that which is good on each doorpost your cross through. 

Mercy had learned these things well at her arm, even only having thirteen too-brief years with her and her father. 

And so, there were things Mercy kept to herself. There were doors she had opened behind which laid pain, there were doors she had opened whose keys were not hers to share. 

The paper in front of her encapsulated them both. 

Winston was working in the larger part of the lab. He felt embarrassed over it, that he had taken up so much space, but Mercy refused to let him feel that way. Her work was generally smaller by necessity, and Winston had done her a kindness to give up so much of that space in the first place. It was his own home, after all. Her home scarcely had room for an office. 

She had worked with him from the first time they had pulled Tracer back through. It sounded a bit self-congratulatory–Tracer herself had been a part of her own rescue, and Mercy maintained a more standard sort of person would not have survived it–but the truth was that without them it never would have happened. Not without Mercy, and not without Winston. 

They had come to be very fond of each other, over the first turn in Overwatch, and now over the second. She was not given to lie to those she was fond of, but that did not mean she had to open the door for him. What could he do about the information? Mercy herself was at a loss, sitting in the corner of this room trying to compound some medication. Winston’s skills could add nothing to this. 

Eventually, he would have to know, have to go through the door, unless Mercy’s experiments happened to work. She was beginning to feel they would not. The door behind her was shutting, slowly. There was no going back. There was only a prayer for the room’s mercy. 

“Angela?” 

His voice broke her concentration. He was looking at her, smiling, and she easily slipped the paper under her notebook as she looked up to him. 

“It’s almost noon. I was going to go make a sandwich, if you’d like one.” He said it gently, but with a tone of prodding–Mercy’s general tendency to live on coffee and wine was well known–and there was little opportunity for her to say no without being tattled on to Pharah. 

All knowledge is a door, and no one seemed to keep very many of them shut to Pharah. 

Except, of course, the one Mercy had gone through. 

She wanted to invite Pharah in, if only to have someone to share the room with, to tell, to help bear the contents of this place. But the keys were not hers. Mercy believed in discretion when at all possible, even if medical ethics had not made it a requirement. Tracer had be very clear, even all those years ago, that anything regarding her health was information only for Mercy and Tracer, in all the world. Mercy had given up trying to convince her. It rarely seemed to worry her. 

Well, that made one of them. 

She clipped down the stairs in Winston’s home to the roomy and spacious kitchen and dining area, where, much to his delight, the Overwatch crew had come to have family dinners, popping with food and conversation and friendship. London was still, at least on the East End, a bit of a pile of rubble, but that seemed not to effect Winston’s happiness or Tracer’s general cheer, and the warmth filled the room, when they gathered. 

“Is chicken salad okay?” He took down a loaf of bread, a large half cut in two for him, slices for Mercy. 

She gave a laugh. “Lena?” 

He nodded. “Lena.” 

She was going to turn into a bit of chicken salad, if she wasn’t careful. There was near always a generous bowl of it in the fridge, waiting for tea or a midnight snack or whatever else might come up. 

There was an invitation the fridge, in curved lettering. Tracer and Emily’s wedding. They’d been engaged right before Tracer and Pharah had been taken, before Moira got her hands on them and did her best to pull them both apart. She hadn’t managed, as much through her own ineptitude as anything else. But she had hurt them. And Null Sector had tattered up London. 

But still Tracer and Emily had pressed on. That was Tracer’s way, no matter what door she went through. You could always find the sun, she’d told Mercy, and the time came that she couldn’t find it, she’d know it was time to roll up the tent, as it were. But for today, she could still find it. She’d been laying in a hospital bed, barely recovered from the coma Mercy had to put her in, when she’d said that. 

She was a wonder in more ways than one. 

Mercy had always found the door to knowledge, blessed it with a kiss of her hand, but could never quite find the way to resilience Tracer had. Mercy had always hated her own sense of melancholy, the way the rooms she knew and the people she had left in them bore a terrible weight on her back. Some nights, she simply sat in her office and cried. It didn’t matter how ardently she searched for answers, there were always people for whom the answer would never come in time. 

Her mind turned to Yael, even though that wasn’t fair. Yael died the same way she lived, fighting and grasping and taking down as much as she could with her. She died so that people like Mercy could live, and she had known for many years that whatever door she went through, it could only ever end this way. You could not make someone come through a door, and see the world in a different way, and Yael had kept certain softer doors closed and locked. 

But still, there was a pang of guilt as Mercy thought of her. Of Reinhardt. Of Jack. Of those who had fallen in the service of something greater. Of those who would continue to fall for it, peace bought, as always, in blood. 

WInston set the sandwich in front of her, startling her into a jump. She gave a laugh and a wave of her hand, and Winston settled in next to her. 

“Angela?” He cleared his throat, fiddling with the edge of the plate, “Are you…Are you alright?” 

Mercy had many skills and talents, but lying, concealment, avoidance, any and all of those things that meant you could hide your own feelings, were not among them. She worked at it, if for no other reason than she sometimes walked through doors that were not hers, secret doors to dark paths with monsters and treasures inside, and it did little good if you couldn’t draw a curtain over the door. 

People would keep asking for the key. 

“Oh,” she shook her head, trying desperately to believe this lie that she’d cultivated, “I have been working with a neurologist (this part was true. Yael had told her the best lies have a bit of truth.) and his writing is being so far over my head. A difficult problem (also true)” she looked at WInston. “For a conference. In California.” And there was the lie, as neatly wrapped as she could make it. 

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to throw her arms around him, and cry, and drag him into this room with her, tell him every worrying thing she knew, the worse things she suspected, the fears that hung at the edge of this room, shadowed and growling and hateful. She wanted someone to be scared with her. 

He looked at her with trust. He believed her, because Mercy was supposed to be honest, and good. Sometimes, one cannot be both, Mercy thought. What would the sages say, over this sort of lie? Is it better to be honest, or to be trustworthy? Mercy had never been a sage, herself. She had never known the answers easily. 

Winston nodded at her. “If there’s any way I can help you.” 

You can’t. There’s a door waiting. I have to open it. The wind is rattling it, hard, and it will pop open whether I take the knob or not. I already know what’s behind it. I have to open it for someone else, show her the wolf that’s been hiding there, and know that she will simply shut it behind us, hold it shut as long as she can. I will be there in the dark by myself. 

All knowledge is a door. Sometimes the room behind it is bright. Sometimes, it’s dark. 

Sometimes you have no choice but to go through.

[asynca]

If You Scratch My Back... - Mercy x Sombra

Dr Angela Ziegler finds an unexpected ally in Sombra. Actually, she finds an unexpected LOT of things in Sombra. 

AO3 | FF.NET

-

It wasn’t so much a sound that woke Angela. It was a feeling, she decided, an uneasiness. The type of feeling you get when you’re driving to work and wondering if you really did lock your front door.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the familiar ceiling in her Gibraltar HQ residence (it was still so odd to be back here again), wondering what it meant. Perhaps I’m subconsciously aware I forgot to do something important? she thought, rolling over to look at her clock: 3:42am. Hmm.

There wasn’t anything she could have left on, though. And when she tried to methodically go through her evening minute-by-minute, routine-by-routine, she couldn’t pinpoint anything she’d forgotten. Her new nanite formula was refrigerated—she remembered doing that. Ana’s new bullets (secretly altered so they damaged unintended targets less) were ready to be batched in the cupboard. Even her new formula for the ‘resus pack’, as she called it, a tiny life support implant with a single dose of a chemical cocktail to automatically resuscitate you if your heart slipped into arrhythmia was safely locked in the fridge, waiting for her to continue trying to convince those difficult new directors in Ethics to let her run live tests. Honestly, she couldn’t think of what she mightn’t have done.

The uneasiness remained, though, and no amount of closing her eyes and reassuring herself everything was fine was helping at all.

Well. Perhaps she should just get up and check the lab? You know, just in case.

Slowly, she pushed aside her blankets and stood into her slippers, pulling a light dressing gown around herself—mostly for modesty because she’d forgotten how warm Gibraltar nights were in the summer. Then, she walked the familiar route to her old (and now new) lab.

It was different at night; without the fluorescent lights, shadows from the moonlight outside the hangar feel in deep, heavy lines across the linoleum floor. It was eerie, and added to her feeling of unease.

At the lab, still half-asleep, she punched her access code automatically, in a smooth sequence she’d done 1000 times, only to have it beep and say ‘LOCKED’.

That woke her up. Locked?!

Huh.

Well, maybe she’d entered the code in wrong? Yes, she decided, that was probably it. She’d never done it wrong before, so maybe this was what happened when she did. She tried again, and this time it displayed ‘OPEN’.

That didn’t reassure her at all; in fact, a cold chill settled on her. If by punching in the correct code before she’d locked it…

She took a slow and steady breath. Maybe this was what she was subconsciously feeling uneasy about? That she’d left the lab unlocked? But—no, that couldn’t be it. She remembered locking the door after dinner because she’d been carrying her coffee mug with her and had found juggling it and closing the door difficult.

Which meant…

Oh, heavens, had someone opened it?! Had Winston needed something, perhaps? Surely it couldn’t be anyone other than him, surely…

Against her better judgement—she really should have checked to make sure it was Winston—she pushed the door carefully open and walked straight into—

—the barrel of a pulse gun, pointing straight at her forehead.

She froze.

She was face-to-face with someone who had… purple eyes, clothes more brightly coloured than even Lena’s always were, and who was also glowing faintly with her cybernetic augmentations; so many that she almost looked part-computer. Well, at least that explained how she’d hacked the security terminal…

Despite the fact she was staging a hold-up, the intruder was uncharacteristically relaxed. “Well, if it isn’t the doctor herself,” she said casually. She had an accent. “Pleased to meet you, Dr Ziegler. Or do you prefer ‘Angela’?”

I think I prefer not having a gun against my forehead, Angela thought, looking up at it.

The woman noticed. “Oh, yeah, that,” she said, and removed it, shrugging. “Can’t be too careful, you know. Everyone wears concealed guns these days, and if we had a gunfight in here it would wreck all your valuable medicine, right?”

Valuable? Was she planning on stealing something and selling it?

“But anyways,” the woman continued, looking directly at Angela’s thin nightgown. “I can see you’re not concealing much in that little thing, so I guess your medicine is safe.” As Angela’s mouth opened and her cheeks went a little pink, the woman extended her other hand. “Sombra,” she said simply, taking Angela’s hand and shaking it when Angela didn’t move. “Big fan. Really.” She turned towards the lab. “So, this is where the magic happens, hey?” Without being invited to—invitations clearly weren’t important to her—she wandered over to a counter where a solution was distilling and leant in for a closer look. “Huh. It’s creepy how it bubbles like that.”

Angela only came to her senses after the nightgown comment as Sombra reached out to touch one of the test tubes. It was the DST-1 formula, and she’d spent ages perfecting it! “Stop, that’s—!” she began automatically, and then realised she was shouting at a woman with a gun; a gun that, seconds ago, had been pointed at her.

Fortunately, Sombra looking amused rather than angry. “That’s what?” she prompted, grinning. “Poisonous? Explosive? Some sort of love potion that’s going to make everyone around me immediately fall for me? Because let me tell you, doctora, I don’t need anything like that.” She winked.

Angela stared.

Was this woman trying to…? No. No, of course not. It couldn’t be anything like that. She was probably just one of those cocky people who liked to flirt with people to unsettle them. Well, Angela wasn’t going to be riled that easily. Not even by a cocky woman with a gun. “I’m afraid it’s nothing like that,” she replied evenly, trying to sound calmer than she felt. “It’s just that it needs to settle within a fixed period of time or the sediment dissolves into the solution.”

Sombra looked disappointed. “Oh,” she said, and stood up from it, moving along the counter to examine the centrifuge and some of the equipment behind it. She seemed to be searching for something.

Angela watched her, dazed. It was all so bizarre. Honestly, she felt like she might be in some sort of odd nightmare. She still wasn’t 100% certain this woman didn’t mean to hurt her, but her curiosity got the better of her, anyway. “Sombra,” she began gently so as not to make her angry, “I’m sorry, but—why did you break into my lab?”

Sombra didn’t look bothered by the question at all. “Well, the door was locked, how else was I going to get in?”

Angela’s eyebrow twitched. “Perhaps by asking me?” At Sombra’s somewhat sheepish shrug, she added, “What could you possibly want to steal, anyway? I make all my formulas public.”

“Can’t a girl just want to say hello to her favourite doctor?”

Angela wasn’t buying it. “No, because your ‘favourite doctor’ wasn’t in the lab.”

Sombra made a face. “Okay, that’s true,” she conceded, glancing at Angela over her shoulder. That troubling smirk returned. “She wasn’t in the lab, she was in bed. And I mean, sure, I could have come to say hello to her in her bedroom in the middle of the night…” She turned to face Angela. “Are you saying you’d prefer I’d done that, Dr Ziegler?”

Again, Angela felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m saying that I’d prefer you’d asked me, and during the daytime!”

Sombra watched her for a little too long. “Fine,” she said, eventually. “Next time I want to break into your lab, I’ll ask you first.”

Angela felt like she aged about five years in one second. This woman. “So, what is it you want, then?”

Sombra sighed. “So serious…” she said about Angela, but then the smirk faded. “Rumour has it you’re working on a top secret project.”

Angela immediately knew what she was talking about. Suddenly, the woman’s intrusion made sense. “So that’s what you’re doing here,” she realised. “You’re planning to steal the resus pack.”

Sombra nodded. There was zero trace of any remorse.

It knocked the breath out of Angela. How could someone be so casual about robbery? “Well, go on, then,” Angela told her a little bitterly, figuring there was little she could do to stop Sombra. “It’s in the refrigerator. Just be aware that I haven’t tested it yet—I can’t be held responsible for what it does to you if it malfunctions.”

She looked unfazed. “Doesn’t it only do something if my heart stops?”

Well, that was a bit of an oversimplification, but, “Yes.”

“Then,” Sombra said, shrugging, “what’s the worst it could do? I’ll already be dead.”

Angela couldn’t help but cringe. Again, that was a huge oversimplication. People weren’t alive or dead, it wasn’t an on-off switch. It was a gradient between every cell in your body being functional and alive and every cell in your body being dysfunctional or dead, and she still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to Gabriel when he’d—

“Dr Ziegler?” Angela snapped back to attention at Sombra’s prompt. “Look, my intel says that you’ve already finished it. And knowing your reputation, that means it will work perfectly.”

Hah. “Your intel is quite far off the mark on this one,” she said perhaps a little more dryly than intended. “Ethics just knocked back live testing because of their concerns. They’d like me to do animal tests, first.”

Sombra snorted. “Why do you care what some board of crusty old doctors thinks?”

Angela didn’t, actually. She’d certainly...bypassed their approval before on more than one occasion. But that was when she was in Overwatch and money for medical technology essentially rained from the sky. She couldn’t say that to this woman, though. “Because I’ll never get anyone to fund my project if it’s illegal.”

Again, Sombra looked unmoved. “How much money do you need?” It sounded like a genuine question.

Was she offering to…?

For second—for just a second—Angela held her breath. Could this stranger maybe help fund—?

No, she told herself, squashing that idea flat. No. This stranger was clearly a criminal, and the very last thing Angela needed was her medicine being connected to organised crime. “It doesn’t matter. I need ethics approval.”

“And animal tests are the only way to get it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, a human is an animal, right?”

Angela gave her an odd look. “I suppose, but Ethics would never let me install the pack into a participant who—”

—suddenly, in a fraction of a second, something whizzed through the air and there was a gun pressed against her again, this time at her throat. It was as if she’d blinked and Sombra was just there.

Sombra had a dark, dark smile. “You can tell Ethics that someone literally held a gun to you and told you to install the pack in them,” she said. “You don’t need approval to follow the instructions of an armed robber, do you?”

Angela swallowed, the movement of her throat making the gun bob. “No.” Oddly, she wasn’t particularly worried the woman would hurt her anymore.

Sombra chuckled once, and stepped back. “Okay then,” she said, and extended her hand to shake. “Do we have a deal? You install the resus pack into me, I’ll give you access to the data from it each time it gets used.”

Each time?! Angela really wanted to ask more about this woman’s job—but she also didn’t want to know, since the woman was clearly a criminal—so instead, she just considered the proposal.  

She wasn’t actually sure if it was a proper choice; the woman had a gun, after all. Angela was being held up. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why that didn’t bother her. It didn’t bother her, though. She was looking for a way to test the device, and this was an excellent opportunity to trial it. Should anything go wrong, she reasoned, it wasn’t as if this woman wasn’t 100% aware of what she was in for… and 100% a criminal. And since the resus pack wasn’t patented yet; it wouldn’t be traced back to her.

Somewhat tentatively, Angela found herself reaching for Sombra’s hand and accepting it. “Alright, I agree.”

She was still coming to terms with the implication of what she’d shaken on, when Sombra, looking very pleased with herself, shrugged off her jacket, letting it pool at her feet. “Let’s get started then,” she said, and then locked eyes with Angela as she reached for the zipper on her bodysuit. “You can put it in me right now.”

As the bodysuit fell away from Sombra’s middle, Angela was slightly horrified at herself for needing to tear her eyes away from the woman as they dipped immediately to the woman’s brightly coloured bra. Turning abruptly, she switched on the lights and went to retrieve the resus pack from the refrigerator, both angry at herself for noticing that bra, and slightly angry at the woman for so obviously choosing lingerie that was so eye-catching. They shouldn’t be doing this.

In any other circumstance, if there was a hint of a dynamic like this with a patient, she might have gone to get a nurse to ‘assist with the procedure’. Maybe she’d even have excused herself and then passed the patient to another doctor. There weren’t any other doctors here, though, and she was technically being robbed, wasn’t she? Even if this woman didn’t seem to have any intention of hurting her. It was such an odd situation. It felt surreal.

When she returned with the unit, Sombra had sat helpfully on one of the chairs, neck forward to expose the console anchored at her T1 vertebra, a fluorescent pink bra-strap dividing the brown skin on her bare back.

While Angela was washing up, putting on some gloves and quite successfully ignoring that pink strap and bare skin, Sombra was tapping out an idly tune on the bench with her long nails on the counter-top while she waited.

When Angela glanced up at them—they were claw like in some ways?—Sombra grinned at her. It was one of those grins. “Don’t worry about how long they are,” she told Angela, and then made sure Angela saw her completely retract them. Locking eyes with Angela, she winked.

Angela glanced quickly away, pausing for a moment as she stared down at the small console imbedded at the base of Sombra’s neck. She took a deep, slow breath. They could not get into this for a myriad of reasons—including the fact this woman was a criminal who’d broken into her lab with the express intent of stealing her technology!—but more specifically now because she was about to perform a medical procedure on her. “Stop it. I mean that.”

Angela could hear the smile in Sombra’s voice. “Stop what?”

She wasn’t playing that game. Sombra knew what she meant. “It’s highly unprofessional.”

“So why are you telling me to stop?” Sombra asked innocently. “You’re the professional.”

Angela did stop—she stopped being about to install the resus pack, dropping her hands to her sides. “Would you like me to do this or not?”

Sombra chuckled. “Okay, okay!” she said in defeat, resting her head on her crossed arms on the counter. “I get it. I’ll stop.”

Angela waited for a moment to make sure she meant it, and then got to work injecting some local anaesthetic and probing around the base of the console to look for a free socket. She was just marking the point on Sombra’s skin and checking there was enough room for the resus pack when Sombra exhaled audibly. She clearly wanted Angela to remark on that so she could explain why she’d done it—Angela didn’t. She just kept her eyes on her scalpel.

Sombra spoke anyway. “You know, I never understood that. The ‘don’t sleep with your patients’ thing. If you’re both adults, I don’t see where’s the harm.”

Oh, heavens. “Perhaps you could Google it,” she said neutrally in an ‘that’s all I’m going to say’ tone.

Sombra ignored her. “I mean, it would be different if I was the student and you were the teacher,” she said, and her voice was getting that smile in it again. She paused. “Have you ever been a teacher, Angela? I bet all the students had a crush on you. I know I would have.”

Angela closed her eyes for a moment. “Stop talking, please. I need to concentrate.”

Sombra chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry I’m breaking your concentration…”

Being very, very careful not to cut more of Sombra than she needed to just because the woman was a mixture of infuriating and yes, perhaps slightly charming, Angela made an incision under the base of her console and examined the wiring and the socket.

Since Sombra was clearly going to speak again, Angela decided to speak over her. “If you must know,” she said, “the patient-doctor boundary is to do with trust and an imbalance of power. A patient gives a doctor access to their body, trusting the doctor will view it strictly professionally. Furthermore, a patient’s life is literally in a doctor’s hands.” Angela looked at the console imbedded in Sombra back, open in front of her. “For example, I could literally switch you off right at this very moment. It may kill you. Because of that, I couldn’t be sure that any advance I would make, you wouldn’t just accept because you were scared of what I might do to you if you say no.”

“So, it’s because you could kill me if I say no?”

All this oversimplifying. “That’s part of it.”

No sooner had she said that, she felt Sombra take an arm from under her cheek on the counter, heard the click of something being unlocked, and felt the cold barrel of Sombra’s pulse gun under her chin again. “But what if I could kill you, too?”

Surprised, Angela paused for a moment—just with surprise, though, as she wasn’t at all convinced this woman meant to hurt her anymore. She still didn’t know what to make of it. “Are you… ordering me to do something?”

“No.” Sombra let the gun drop from Angela’s neck and there was a pronounce click as she adhered it back against her belt. “I’m just saying that the way I see it, we’re pretty even right now.”

Rather than argue, Angela just considered that comment while she was implanting the resus pack and all its tiny components. After they’d fit into place, she enabled the device and closed the tiny wound in Sombra’s upper back with four or five stitches.

While she was swabbing it, she observed at least a dozen other healed openings—fanning out from Sombra’s console like the rays of a sun. She must have so many implants… Angela couldn’t think of what would necessitate that many augmentations. She wanted to ask—honestly, in different circumstances she would love to have sat Sombra down and asked her all about the integrated technology, what components were medical and what components were omnic hybrids… It was fascinating, all this new technology. She found her fingertips tracing some of the healed incisions, wondering what was underneath.

It was only when she caught Sombra grinning knowingly at her over her shoulder than quickly withdrew her hand, dressed the wound, and washed up.

Sombra dressed very, very slowly—probably hoping Angela would turn around at some point and get another eyeful of that bra and its contents, but Angela didn’t give her the satisfaction. She could see a dull reflection of the woman in the stainless-steel splashback, and only turned around when Sombra had her bodysuit on again.

It was skin-tight, though. Sombra knew it.

Angela tried not to show any reaction. In focusing on doing that, though, she fell back into old consulting habits and found herself saying, “Is that all for today?” as if Sombra was just another patient. She didn’t manage to stop herself in time.

Sombra found it extremely amusing. “Well,” she said in a very theatrical voice, “Now that you mention it, I have been getting all these aches and pains and stuff everywhere. Maybe you should give me a full-body check-up, Doctor? You know, just to be safe…”

Her cheeks flushing both from her mistake and Sombra’s reply to it. Angela sighed at her. “Actually, let me rephrase that:” she said flatly, “that’s all for today.”

“Just for today?” Sombra retrieved her jacket from the floor and watched Angela as she slipped it back over her shoulders. At Angela’s expression, she laughed. She then took a few slow and indulgent steps towards her, observing her pink cheeks and nervous hands. “Admit it, doctora,” she said with a grin. “You’re interested in me.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly interesting,” she told Sombra dryly. “Do you always flirt with people after you’ve broken into their workplace to steal from them?”

Again, Sombra was unmoved by the accusation. “No,” she said simply, and then gave Angela that half-smile. “But then again, most people I steal from are not as pretty or as smart as you are.”

Angela groaned at that, closing her eyes for a moment and shaking her head. “You are absolutely unbelievable.”

Sombra seemed to take that as a compliment. “I know, it’s what makes me so interesting. And what makes you interested, right?”

“You held me at gunpoint and you honestly think I would consider anything further happening between us?”

Sombra scoffed. “You weren’t scared,” she said. “If you were, you wouldn’t be rolling your eyes at me right now.”

She… had a point. But still. “I still can’t imagine how you could possible think this could go anywhere.”

Sombra took another step towards Angela, giving her a slow and rather thoughtful once-over. “Well, don’t worry, doctora, I have enough imagination for both of us.” She finished her once-over by grinning at Angela, face to face. She was slightly shorter. “Anyway,” she said after letting a silence stretch between them. “We both got something we wanted tonight. I don’t see why we both shouldn’t get something else we want tomorrow night.”

It had been a very long time since anyone had propositioned Angela so openly, and there was… something to be said for this woman, in truth. She was very pretty. And as much as Angela was loath to admit it, definitely rather charming. But, then again, she’d broken into her lab…

“Come on,” Sombra prompted her, that half smile on her perfect lips. “I know you want to, doctora. I’ll even let you bring your scalpel, since I know you’re dying to find out what’s inside me.” They were standing so close that for a second, Angela actually thought Sombra might try to kiss her. She didn’t. “And after you’ve poked around inside me, maybe I can return the favour.” Sombra’s eyes dipped to Angela’s lips.

It was—actually, sort of intoxicating.

Angela had forgotten what it this felt like, and it wasn’t that difficult for her to admit that—yes, Sombra was right. She was interested. Against her better judgment, she was interested. Heavens, though, what on earth was she getting herself into? Whatever happened between the two of them had better be good enough for the risk to be worth it!

There was defeat in Angela’s sigh. “Well. I hope you’ll at least take me to dinner first.”

A look of devilish satisfaction broke across Sombra’s face. “Hah, I knew it!” she said triumphantly, and then stepped back, not breaking eye-contact with Angela., “I’ll find somewhere so good that you’ll want to eat there every night,” she said with conviction, her lips curling deliberately around key words. “See you tomorrow, doctora.”

Then, just like Lena used to do on occasion, she quite literally vanished.

Angela was left there alone in her lab in the middle of the night, surrounded by small surgical implements that needed to be re-sterilised.

After a moment of trying to gather her senses—had all of that really happened?—she sterilised everything, gave her lab one last cursory check, and then locked it and made the walk back to her room.

Stepping out of her slippers, she sat on the edge of her bed for a moment and stared down her body. The room was a little milder now that the door had been open; the sheets were cool from her absence and as a result, her nipples were pushing against the thin fabric of her nightgown. She found herself wondering if they’d been that way in front of Sombra—and if they had, if it even mattered. After all, she was essentially going to offer that woman a lot more.

You agreed to that, Angela, she thought, shaking her head at herself. Was she really going to sleep with someone who broke into her lab to steal her resus pack, despite the deal they’d made?

Honestly, this was all complete crazy. Absolutely, completely crazy. Sombra hadn’t even left any details about how they were going to meet tomorrow night—should she just expect her to break in or something?

While she was lying in bed, staring wide-eyed at her ceiling and wondering if perhaps she’d genuinely gone mad, her phone flashed. Curious, she turned over to read the message, and found that a contact called ‘Sombra’ had saved itself on her phone.

“Hey there, doctora,” the message read. “Wait out the back of the hangar tomorrow night at 8 and wear something really nice. There’s a hotel near the restaurant so no one needs to drink and drive.” Angela scrolled down. “And, Angela? If you’ve got a cute little doctor’s uniform or a little nurses’ uniform that you could bring along with that scalpel, I’ll definitely show you how much I appreciate it ;)”

Angela read that last part twice, holding her breath. Tomorrow night was going to be an experience.

[abdlbdsmstories]

Cuckolded

This story is all about cuckolding and forced sex. 

The moment of truth had arrived. As I opened the door, a stranger handed me the packages. Two medium sized boxes, one addressed to Ryan and the other addressed to my wife, Sam. Stuck on the front of mine was envelope labelled 'instructions'. I shut the door and took the parcels into the front room where my wife was sitting. She was lying there on the setee watching TV, looking quite sexy. Her long blonde hair covering her beautiful face, her skin glimmered as she lay there in her black nightie just covering her pert backside. She sat up when I entered the room with the packages.

   "What are those?" She asked puzzlingly.

   "I dunno, I imagine there from the visitors for tonight" I replied just as puzzlingly.

   "I can't believe we have to go through this, is there no way we can raise the money?" She replied.

   "Not unless you want to give up this house dear and all your fancy clothes and lifestyle?" I sullenly replied back.

You see, I had gotten us into a bit of debt with a loan shark. I borrowed a few hundred pounds from him to treat my wife to some new lingerie that she badly wanted. I promised them to her and didn't want to let her down. She was the kind of girl who if i didn't get what she wanted, I wouldn't get I what I wanted which was usually sex. The loan shark, Winston had come looking for his money and I had to plead with him not to take any of my belongings. But it was no luck, he took my wide screen TV, car and computer. Luckily I had managed to secure a smaller TV for the time being. But he also wanted payback on me. The night he came round, he wanted to beat me up, but luckily Sam saved me. She negotiated a truce, but with clauses. Him and 3 of his mates were going to come round tonight and they wanted full use of my house and my wife. Otherwise he was going to break my legs. We both reluctantly agreed, Sam wasn't very happy about the situation but I had this feeling she was kind off looking forward to a spice up in her sex life.

Anyway, it was mid afternoon before we decided to open the envelope on the package. She undid it and read it out,

   "Hello Sam and Ryan. In these packages are what I expect both of you to be wearing when Me, my buddies and a few girlfriends call round tonight. If we arrive and you are not dressed as expected, there will be a punishment dished out. We will be around promptly at 6pm and be sure to have plenty of beers ready. Have fun dressing up."

The thought of what was in these boxes terrified us. What could they have meant by dressed up? There was only one way to find out. We agreed to open Sam's box first. She undid it and pulled out the first item, a black lacy thong with the words 'SLUT' written on the front. The next items were handcuffs and a make up bag. A little note inside the bag read, 'Make sure you look like a slut, and make that husband of yours look the same. I expect you to be presented on your knees, cuffed, blindfolded and ready for action.' She read it to me and tears began to form in my eyes. I didn't want to wear make up, the thoughts of what were in my box began to daunt me. I opened my box and was shocked. I  unfolded the first items on top and it was a sissy maids outfit, a top with white frills on it and a short skirt. Underneath these was items was a nappy. The note accompanying it read, 'Sam, you are to dress Ryan in this nappy and maids outfit. You are to do his make up and make him look presentable to us. You will find 2 suppositories in your make up bag to administer. Failure to do so will result in punishment.' We both began to cry, we leaned across and cuddled each other. We knew now that we couldn't not but go through with tonight's events. We decided to shower and try to delay the inevitable.

   I had finished my shower and wrapped my towel around me. I slowly made my way downstairs were my wife was waiting, naked but for her slut thong. She had put her make up on, her lips covered in a distinctively slutty bright red lipstick, her eyelashes blackened with accompanying black eyeshadow. She looked like a proper hooker, very slutty but something I loved.  She had unfurled the nappy, laid it out on the floor with the maids outfit accompanying it. She enticed me over to the nappy, cuddled me and released the towel that clinged to my body. I was fully naked, slightly excited by the fact that wife near naked wife was cuddling. She proceed to lay me down on the huge disposable nappy. It felt very soft and comfortable and my penis immediately became erect. I was so embarrassed there was my wife kneeling in front of me whilst I laid on a nappy. She pulled a suppository from her make up which shocked me.

   "Whats that for?" I asked in a state of surprise and shock,

   "In the note, I was told I had to insert 2 of these inside you otherwise there would be a punishment and this isn't up for debate dear. I don't want to see either of us punished" She replied with a state of assertiveness. She pushed my knees up to my chest and started to insert this little capsule into my backside. I grimaced as it entered, a slight pain made me groan but fortunately the process was quick, as was the second one. She pulled my legs back down, folded the front of the nappy over my penis and up above my waist and taped the sides. She was quite adapt at nappying and as she patted the front of my nappy I felt like she was enjoying this. She pulled me up to a kneeling position, and fetched her make up bag before positioning a stool in front of me so that she could administer my make up. This was the truly embarrassing part, I didn't need any blusher that's for sure I was truly red already. She started off with the eye liner, she curled my eyelashes out as much as possible, following this with a generous amount of black eye shadow. Next up was the blusher and powder, she didn't hold back making sure my face was caked in the stuff. Last up was the lipstick, the same very bright red lipstick I could see on her lips. She grabbed my cheeks to pucker up my lips and didn't hold back on application. She picked up the maids top and pulled it over my head, I stood up instinctively to allow her to wrap the skirt around my waist. Tears began to well up in my eyes as the whole process started to catch up with me. As I looked over my shoulder into the dining room mirror I could see the skirt didn't even begin to cover the nappy I was wearing. There must have been at least 2 or 3 inches of nappy showing. Sam disappeared into the shoe cupboard and came back with a pair of her high heels.

   "Don't cry dear, your make up will run and don't want to have to reply it. Here, put these on, maybe the guys will be impressed that we have made an effort for them and spare us anymore humiliation and just leave when they get here." She didn't let me answer, just picked my feet up and began buckling the heels to my feet. It was a very, very tight squeeze but somehow Sam managed to cram my feet into them. She motioned for me to do a walk up and down the room and I managed the out journey fine although the bulk of a nappy and high heels made it very awkward, as I turned I slipped and fell to my backside, but thankfully the padding of the nappy comforted the fall. I couldn't bare to walk back to Sam, so i got on all fours like a proper baby and crawled over to her.

   "Ahh you do look cute in a sissy kind of way. But lets just get through tonight and our troubles will all be over. Theres only 5 minutes before they will be here so you better get me into position. Just in case anything happens I want you to know I love you." She whispered in my ear before moving across to the fireplace and kneeling in front of it. She placed her hands behind her back and just closed her eyes. I fetched the blindfold and cuffs and went back to her. I carefully wrapped the blindfold snugly around her head then proceeded to cuff each hand behind her back and then she was ready. She looked so vulnerable, knelt knees slightly apart, her breasts sat pertly with nipples erect and her lacy slut thong hid her shaved pussy. I gave her pussy a quick rub and fondled her breasts which brought a rye smile to her face. It was then I was shocked by a knock at the door. I looked up at the clock which read six o'clock. I promptly jumped to my feet, smoothed out my skirt and made my way slowly and cautiously to the door. I clutched at the lock, slowly undoing it and opened the door. I was now utterly humiliated as standing there was Winston, his 2 friends and 2 of there girlfriends laughing at me. They barged there way in, commenting on stupid and sissified I looked. The men made there way into the room whilst I was dragged through by the women and lined up beside my wife.

   "Wow, you have done well Ryan. She looks like a proper slut, ready for a good fucking. And as for you you have definitely made a very good effort. The shoes in particular add to the effect. I hope you have your best curtsy ready for us. You're in for a long and embarrassing night. How does the nappy feel?" Winston boasted as he made himself at home sitting on my setee, his accomplices either side and the 2 girls on the chair.

   "I hate it. Its bulky and embarrassing." I growled back at him, trying to act macho.

   "You just earned yourself and your wife an extra punishment. You are a Sissy maid, you address me and my friends as Sir. You address the girls as Madam. Do I make myself understood?" He shouted back at me, whilst one of his girls approached me and slapped me round the face several times. I managed to compose myself, a tear in my eye and my face stinging.  

   "Yes sir, sorry sir."

   "Good, you are learning. Now go and get us some beers. Wine for the women."

   "Yes Sir" I replied as I stood up and made my way into the kitchen. They all commented on how much my nappy showed under my skirt. I opened the fridge and took out 3 cans of beer for the men and a bottle of wine for the women. As I shut the fridge door one of the women appeared holding something behind her back.

   "Here sissy, stand still whilst I put this on you. By the way, my name is Steph." She ordered revealing a long blonde wig from behind her back. She placed it on my head, straightening it out and making sure I looked the part. Once sorted, I finished pouring out there drinks and made my way back into the front room. As i passed the dining room mirror, I fully looked the part of a maid. If I hadn't have had hairy legs you wouldn't be able to tell I was a man. I leaned over with the tray and gave the men there beers. I placed the glasses of wine into the hands of the women and stood there waiting for my next order.

   "What about the curtsy?" Steph asked

   "Sorry, Madam but what do i do? I replied with a confused look. She explained to me what to do and I proceeded to follow suit. I grabbed the edges of my skirt and bent my knees slightly. They were all very impressed. I made my way back over to my wife and stood beside her.

   Now the men started to take a very good interest in my wife, Sam. They ordered her to stand up. One of them approached her, rubbed his hands over her body, concentrating on her breasts then whispering in her ear, 'I'm gonna fuck you for so long, you ain't gonna sit down for a week.' This made me angry and I turned to face him and stared into his eyes trying to look scary.

   "What the fuck do you think you are doing? This slut is our property from now on. You sit the fuck down and get out of my way." He shouted at me, pressing down on my shoulders forcing me onto my knees.

   "Well then Sam. How are you today? I must say you are looking very sexy tonight. What do you think is going to happen to you tonight?" Winston said in his thick Caribbean accent.

   "I..I.. I don't know Sir. I think that...that maybe you and your friends are going to have your way with me?" She stuttered sounding like she was going to cry. I think the reality of the situation was just hitting her and they knew this. Then they started to get personal with her, Winston's friend began asking questions.

   "Slut, that's your name for tonight. Your slut and hes sissy. So then slut, have you ever done anal? Whats the biggest dick you've taken?"

   "I...I've never done anal, Sir. I have only ever taken 7" incher max, that was my ex boyfriend." Again she stuttering replied.

   "Well tonight slut, is your lucky night. When I take your blindfold off in a minute you're about to see what a real man looks like. And don't worry we will be gentle when breaking your ass in." He wickedly laughed afterwards.

   There wasn't much said for the next 10 minutes or so. They sat on there chairs, whilst me and Sam kneeled side by side. Winston ordered me to go and get them some more drinks. Without hesitation I stood up and walked awkwardly into the kitchen followed by the 2 girls. They tucked at my maids outfit pulling the skirt off to reveal my nappy. Both had a great laugh at my expense before adding to my mockery.

   "You look like such a sissy. Who would let there wife nappy them and turn him into a sissy maid? You ain't a man. But things are only going to get worse for you!!" the other sniggered at me, revealing her name was Bridget. She ordered me to lie on the floor whilst she sorted out the drinks for the men. She disappeared off into the front room whilst Steph chatted to me,

   "So... whats the biggest dick you've ever seen? Have you ever done anal before?" I immediately snapped back at her,

   "NO! Nothings ever been up there bar tonight's suppository's." She took offence to my tone and lack of manners slapping me hard on my nappied dick and then my face. Bridget returned with a bag and began to take a few things out of it. The two of them whispered their plans for me to one another and then Bridget began to untape my nappy whilst Steph took a couple more suppositories from the back and without having time to react forced them in my backside. She then took a butt plug out of her back which made me grimace. This was going to be painful. Luckily for me she greased it up with a thick layer of Vaseline before Bridget pushed my knees up to my chest and Steph forcibly inserted the huge pink butt plug into my backside.

   "Give us a twirl then go and show the men." Steph said to me, laughing as she was washing her hands. I did as told, quickly spun round showing my plugged butt to them before walking into the front room. I was quite shocked to find Sam lying on the floor, spread eagled by an enema hose in her backside and a little pink item in her pussy, which turned out to be a dummy. She had been crying again, her eyes were red and streaming with tears. She had the marks of a hand on her face, like she had been slapped by one of the men, which made me slightly angry.

   "HA HA HA!!" Winston mocked me as I stood there in front of him, a butt plug shoved up my ass. "Such a sissy. Get down on your knees and get the dummy out of your wifes pussy." I dropped to my knees, and hesitantly leaned forward and buried my head in Sams pussy. She was clean shaved, and very smooth. I gripped the teet between my teeth and slowly lifted back up, bringing a slight groan from Sam as it rubbed her clitoris.

I stood back, and looked at Sam, I think her seeing me as such a sissy was cheering her up. She raised a little smile, much to my annoyance but we had to get through this. I turned away and walked back into the kitchen where Bridget was waiting for me with the nappy. I assumed the position, laid down on the floor and closed my eyes. I felt the relief of the butt plug being removed from my ass before she renappied me and left me lying on the floor. They went back in the front room, where I could hear giggling and them mocking my wife. They all appeared in the kitchen and walked past me, I looked up to see my wife dressed in a pair of white knickers. Someone beckoned me to join them outside so I got to my feet and stood out there wher Sam was stood, she had two blue pads stuck to her inner thighs, connected to a wire that ran to a device Winston was holding. He handed the device to me.

   "Here, have this, this is an electrocuter, made it myself. Your going to make your wife shit herself. When you think shes done, you can stop. But if I try it and she shits herself again, you will be sitting under her ass. Ok?" Said Winston. I looked up at Sam, she cuddled herself, the fresh night air making her cold. She was shaking her head, begging me not to do it. She pleaded, on her knees, she begged and begged for me to not do it, but I did nt fancy getting shit on. The others egged me on, they kept telling me of the consequences if I didnt do it, then Simon, one of the other men there started a countdown. "5...4...3.." He said. I couldn't handle the pressure anymore and I turned the black dial on the device halfway. Sam fell to the ground, violently spasming as the electricity ran through her body. Her body quivered and shaked and uncontrollably she shit herself big style. Streams of diarrhoea ran out of her ass and pooled on the floor she was lying on. After 30 seconds of electrocuting her and making myself fully confident she was empty I stopped. The lads and lasses seemed pretty pleased that I had punished her for so long and we both earned a round of applause. Sam just lay there in a huge pool of her own shit, shaking still from the aftershock of the electrocution. I couldn't believe what I had, electrocuted my wife, and made her shit herself in front of these strangers. My own predicament was now just as bad, as in the heat of the moment I let out a wet fart followed by a mass of diarrhoea. All eyes were on me, as I grunted a couple of times and forced out the shit explosively. They were all laughing at me. I was forced to lie down next to Sam and take my nappy off. There we both lay there, our asses covered in shit. We were then both hoisted back to our feet and forced to stand next to the wall. A blast of cold water showered us as someone turned the hosepipe on and was blasting the shit from our backsides. Once clean, we were both taken back inside, Sam was taken upstairs by the men, whilst I stayed in the front room. Steph stood over me with a nappy in her hand with a hole in the front and back. She explained,

   "Here's another nappy for you. But with a twist, you and I can have some fun now. I nappy you as usual, then you can let your little penis hang out. Plus a nice little hole to fit the strap on in!"

I was way out of my comfort zone and pretty worried that this could be very painful. Steph placed the nappy over me and then made me crawl upstairs.

   "By the way, if you need to relieve yourself theres a potty upstairs for you." She joked, kicking my backside up the stairs. As I entered the room, my wife was lying oiled up, on her hands and knees in front of the 3 naked blokes, who were hung like absolutely donkeys. I was ordered to go and kneel next to her, where we both then blindfolded.

   "We are going to have a little competition. Lets see which one of you 2 can suck the best cock. You both got 2 minutes with each of us, to say, warm us up then its on to the main event. Now open wide, both of you." I was ordered. I reluctantly and tentatively opened my mouth slightly, but this was then forced open by the massive shaft entering my mouth. I had never ever sucked anything in my life and this was to prove absolutely humiliating and violating. Each cock that enetered my mouth, practically skull fucked me, gagging to the point of me being sick. I tried my best to suck but with my head in there hands they just wanted to see me gagging. Once the ordeal was over, our blindfolds was removed and I was at the point of crying. My wife on the other hand, looked like she had enjoyed the experience. She was smiling away, drool and pre cum running down her chin onto her oiled body.

   "Im not sure which one of you 2 enjoyed that more. She cant stop smiling and hes got a bit of a hard on." Winston mocked us both.

I looked down and sure enough I had an erection, not on the same scale as the others but evident that I had enjoyed that. They all sat down whilst I had to warm my wife up. I laid on my back whilst Sam clambered on top of me and rode my face. Her pussy was amazing, cleanly shaven and moist. She was most definitely enjoying the occasion. After 5 minutes or so she was lifted off my face and we were both knelt side by side again, hands on our heads like naughty children.

   "We have come to a decision and although you were a very good cock sucker Ryan, your wife has just edged it. So she has to spank you with this." He pulled a paddle from the bag and handed it to my wife. Steph came behind me and untaped my nappy before pulling me up by my hair.