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Overwatch ENF: Bound by Pleasure	By : Meowshi Category: +M through R > Overwatch Views: 1419 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Overwatch or its characters, Blizzard Entertainment owns those rights. I am not making any profit from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-A Body Transformed
- 2-A Descent into Madness
- 1
- 2
“There is something fascinating about the interplay between pleasure and pain within the human body. I posit, that in the tapestry of existence, one cannot exist without the other. The sweet ecstasy of pleasure is but a fleeting tease, a prelude to the inevitable embrace of its twisted counterpart.”
Moira O'Deorain, Oasisian Minister of Genetics

The Overwatch situation room hummed with excitement as the organization’s figureheads converged around a wall of pulsating holoscreens. Jesse McCree, with an audible chomp on his cigar, whistled as Rammatra’s image flickered on the screen closest to him.
“We finally got that bastard in our crosshairs!” he drawled while clapping Winston on the back.
“Indeed!” the genetically-altered gorilla agreed, flashing sets of sharp incisors and canines as he grinned, “That villain won’t be able to escape justice this time!”
“To make sure o' that, we should hit his hideout right now and take him 'n his cronies under the cover of darkness,” McCree continued, his hand unconsciously reaching for the revolver on his hip.
From the rear of the room came an unfamiliar voice, immediately dismissing the suggestion. “An absurd idea. Do you not see the size of that facility? Its automated defenses and layout remain a mystery to us. To proceed without a meticulously crafted plan would undoubtedly lead to failure.”
Every eye in the room turned and focused on Satya Vaswani, who sat with her legs crossed at the knees and her arms neatly folded, as if she had been waiting for them all to acknowledge her.
“No one even asked you!” Lucio huffed with a tinge of irritation.
“Exactly,” the brown-skinned woman smirked imperiously, “But I am here now, and you would be wise to utilize me. There is a reason why the leader of Null Sector has managed to slip through your fingers so many times. I am the element you were missing. ”
The tension in the room was palpable as the soldiers continued bickering with each over what the best plan of attack was. Normally, Overwatch was a relatively cohesive unit, but there were a number of unfamiliar faces present in the room causing all sorts of discord.
The aforementioned Satya Vaswani had been temporarily assigned to the team from the renowned Vishkar Corporation. Although she was known as an “architect” in her public-facing role with the company, to Overwatch, she was known as “Symmetra”, a highly-trained corporate asset specializing in infiltration and espionage.
“For what it is worth, I agree with Jesse’s approach,” stated Ana Amari, her grandmotherly tone brimming with tactical acumen. “A swift and covert nocturnal infiltration would provide us with a clear strategic advantage.”
To be honest, she felt a little awkward voicing her opinion as she hadn’t been an active Overwatch agent for many, many years. Several people suspected that she had only agreed to return in order to keep a watchful eye over her estranged daughter, Fareeha. The old guard, like McCree and Winston, still valued her insight, but some of the younger operatives seemed to think she would be happier ogg somewhere enjoying retirement. In a sense, they were right.
“Ana, it’s not like the olden days of Blackwatch anymore!” argued Hana Song, “We can no longer afford to conceal our tactics from the rest of the world. We need to carry out our plans in broad daylight to show the world that we are here to help!”
“Putting sentiment aside for a moment,” Fareeha Amari said as she nodded politely to the young Korean girl, “I cannot believe you are proposing rushing into enemy territory without a proper plan, mother! It’s foolhardy! How many soldiers would we lose?”
“Less than we will lose if we hesitate to take this scumbag out and allow him time to sharpen his defenses,” growled Jack Morrison, who had reluctantly agreed to this mission only because Ana had.
“Ha! That’s easy for a vigilante with no stakes in this organization to say!” D.Va retorted.
“This isn’t a publicity stunt, little girl,” the time-worn old man shouted, slamming his fist onto the table, “This is war!”
“Aw, what’s with all this arguin' and belly-achin’? We go in at night, we go in at day; it doesn’t really matter! With us two on the team, you're guaranteed to make scrap out of them tin cans! Right buddy?” Junkrat excitedly boasted while clapping his large companion on the shoulder. Roadhog only grumbled menacingly in response.
Jack stared daggers into the two mercenaries, his glower evident even through the thick mask and visor he wore over his scarred countenance. During his tenure as the leader of Overwatch, the thought of permitting the entry of these two criminals into their headquarters would have been unthinkable unless they were chained and gagged. But the truth was that they were former members of the Australian Liberation Front, and few others in the world possessed their level of proficiency in the art of robot destruction. He just hoped they knew how to follow orders.
“One would think that after years of chasing these metallic entities across the globe, you would have learned that they do not process information like we organic beings and cannot truly be 'surprised' by a sneak attack. Their minds are as alien to ours, as ours is to a cockroach.” Moira O'Deorain cooed from the corner of the room, her heterochromatic eyes shimmering with arrogance.
Echo and Bastion exchanged a meaningful glance at this comment but remained silent.
“That's all fine 'n dandy ma'am, but you weren’t even invited to this meeting! You only have clearance for the medical bay, just how'n the hell did you even get in here?!” McCree flashed the geneticist an angry, suspicious look as he jabbed his finger at her.
To her credit, Moira matched his angry gaze without blinking, “If you can’t even manage to keep me out of your ‘situation room’, should you really be the one strategizing an infiltration mission?”
That retort brought a blush to McCree’s stubbled cheeks and he turned back to his holoscreen, grinding his teeth. Despite her being a former member of Blackwatch, McCree didn’t trust Moira at all. Even putting aside her rumored ties to the terrorist organization Talon, the grizzled gunslinger had personal experience with the woman's duplicitous nature and lack of moral compass. In truth, she only cared about the advancement of science, not people. Unfortunately, she was also one of the world's foremost geneticists, which is why Overwatch hired her services. Tracer's debilitating condition required the world's top minds to address.
As if on cue, the electronic doors to the room slid open, emitting a subtle hiss, as Lena Oxton stumbled into the meeting on unsteady feet. A hush fell over the situation room as everyone turned to stare at the newcomer.
It had been two weeks since Tracer was rescued from the omnic interrogation room, and so far her recovery was progressing at a glacial pace. Due to her body's overly sensitive response to touch, she had remained cloistered in the medical bay, too embarassed to leave due to her perpetual nakedness.
Pooling their medical expertise, Baptiste and Mercy joined forces to provide care for the traumatized young woman. Unfortunately, the changes the omnics made to her body were an enigma to all known medical science and necessitated a series of invasive and humiliating medical procedures just to determine how to begin the healing process.
After a few days, she grew accustomed to being naked in the presence of the two physicians, yet her cheeks would still redden whenever a wounded soldier would stumble into the medical bay seeking treatment for some minor abrasion or contusion. In one such instance, Lena was lying prostrate on the examination table, her feet in stirrups and her intimate parts exposed and vulnerable; when suddenly a cluster of handsome young guards appeared in the doorway. As they piled into the room they were treated to the sight of Lena covering her mortified face with her hands as Mercy buried her fingers up to the knuckles inside of the young woman. Apparently, one of the young men had been suffering from a chronic stomach ache and his squadmates had decided to teasingly escort him to the medical bay in a wheelchair for "moral support". The memory of their stunned faces as they gawked at her legs spread in such an inappropriate manner was seared into her mind. The fair-haired doctor between her thighs didn't even bother to look up from her work or pause the procedure, she just pointed to a secluded corner of the room and told the group of young men to take a seat while she finished palpating Tracer's wet canal with her dexterous fingers.
While that was certainly embarrassing, the most humiliating moment was when a gorgeous young female cadet with a shiny, black eye walked into the medical bay looking for some eye drops. Instead, she walked in on Baptiste slowly removing a long, beeping probe from Lena's gaping anus. The embarrassed British woman was bent over her hospital bed, and her entire body flushed red to be seen in such a compromising position by a non-medical professional. “Ah, just one moment and I’ll be right with you!” Baptiste had said casually over his shoulder, though the sound was barely audible over the wet, smacking sound of the device sliding out of her stretched rectum. Her asshole was so loose and inflamed by that point that she involuntarily passed gas right there, filling the room with a foul, meaty smell and scaring the pretty young cadet off.
These embarrassing incidents served as a catalyst, fueling Tracer's determination to find a solution to her deteriorating condition. In addition to the traditional treatments she was receiving from Overwatch's medical staff, she also began exploring unconventional forms of healing. She was visited by a wandering omnic guru by the name of Zenyatta, who taught her mind-and-body meditations meant to help her remain in control of her body. She also met with an eccentric man calling himself "The Lifeweaver", who wrapped her body in strange bioluminescent poultices that were supposed to help soothe and numb her overworked nerves.
Amazingly, the combination of treatments seemed to be working, and soon she was able to tolerate wearing thin fabrics against her skin without immediately cumming herself. After a few days, she worked up the courage to leave the medical bay, and in no time, she could frequently be spotted darting around the facility, dressed in her form-fitting Overwatch uniform and conversing with the personnel around the base. Baptiste was proud of her, but he secretly harbored a suspicion that she was simply suppressing urges and feelings that would eventually resurface with greater intensity if she kept trying to hold them in.
Tracer nervously ran her fingers through the tangles of her sweaty hair, feeling embarrassed as everyone's eyes focused on her. As usual, she was barefoot and dressed in nothing but her skintight, Overwatch uniform. Before she had been abducted and experimented on, she had found the bodysuit flattering, but now it seemed incredibly risqué. Because she still couldn’t bare the feeling of underwear pressing up against her sensitive nipples and throbbing nether regions, every intimate detail of her body was revealed through the thin material of the suit. Her hard, engorged nipples poked out proudly from atop the small firmness of her tiny breasts, and her lower anatomy was distinctly visible as the tight fabric of her uniform wedged its way between her lower lips. The soft spandex seemed to caress her soaking sex, and if you looked closely you could even see the sparse bit of pubic hair that had begun to regrow above her cleft lips, as well as a small spot of dampness spreading throughout the crotch of her suit.
“I distinctly recall instructing you to stay within the confines of the medical bay, Ms. Oxton." Moira's eyes narrowed, her finger tapping against her chin. "Is it not abundantly clear that you are in no condition to partake in this clandestine mission?”
Tracer briefly shot the woman a dirty look before turning towards the rest of the room, “Why did none of you tell me that we finally found Rammatra’s location? You all know what his interrogator-bots did to me!”
With a pained expression, Brigitte cried out, “Lena, we never intended to exclude you! We just wanted you to focus on your recovery!” As she spoke, her demeanor deflated, overwhelmed by the hurt evident on Tracer's face.
“Right! Let us handle this one for you, while you focus on getting better!” Winston added, placing a reassuring hand on Brigitte’s sagging shoulder.
“I’m still a member of this team!” Tracer asserted, her gaze shifting reproachfully at each of her friends and colleagues. "Even if I am unable to join the mission, I should still be involved in this meeting! I’m not an invalid!”
“Oh really?” Moira cooed in response to the outburst as a mischievous idea popped into her head, “Perhaps the rest of your ‘team’ was simply worried about you being a distraction.”
Tracer spun on the woman with an angry expression on her pixie-ish face, “And just what do you mean by that?!”
Moira didn’t bother responding verbally, instead choosing to illustrate her point by sharply striking the British woman across the backside with the palm of her taloned hand. The sound of the impact was sudden and loud as the meat of Tracer's soft bottom jiggled from the impact. The petite woman's eyelids flew open as she let out an inaudible gasp of pain and shock, sinking to her knees as powerful spasms overtook her body.
The blow touched Tracer all the way down her spine, through her arms, along her legs, and even down to her toes. She felt it on the tip of her tongue as it lolled i her mouth. She felt in her brain as it slowly tried to make sense of the fact that she was just spanked in front of everyone. She even felt it burning between her legs as she collapsed in on herself. “Mmmmh!” Tracer cried out as her body writhed in pleasure.
“Get your hands off of her!” screamed Brigitte as she leaped to her feet, brandishing her rocket flail.
Lucio and Genji swiftly intervened, restraining the enraged Swedish woman, who seemed to have every intention of unleashing her fury and bludgeoning Moira into unconsciousness.
“No need to get upset, my dear” Moira calmly stated, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender while offering a faint smile. “I was merely proving a point. After all, I am one of Ms. Oxton’s approved physicians, and she needs to understand her … limitations.”
Tracer's body convulsed as her orgasm drew closer, leaving her helpless to its grasp. She screamed out in pleasure and humiliation as fresh tears ran down her blushing cheeks. Her hips arched up off the ground while her quivering pussy lips strained against the sodden fabric of her tight uniform. “C-can't believe you did that! Ahh!” She panted desperately, fighting to contain the unparalleled intensity shooting through her trembling body.
“I thought she was 'spose to be gettin’ better?” McCree turned towards Mercy with a quizzical expression on his sun-tanned face.
“Believe it or not, this is actually a significant improvement over how she was only a week ago!” the golden-haired healer responded defensively, her professional pride as a doctor wounded.
“Oh fuck! Hnnnng!” Tracer grunted obscenely as her bare toes shot into the air and curled in on themselves. Her strength of will was the only thing preventing her body from orgasming in front of the entire Overwatch leadership.
“Yeah, sounds like she's just about mission-ready,” McCree spat sarcastically while massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“We must be patient with her!” Baptiste offered in his smooth Caribbean accent. “The torture she experienced did not only alter her body but her mind as well. In order to retain control she must maintain an exhausting mental barrier...”
“Doo dun dun woo, dwee doo hoo…” Bastion beeped sadly, not quite understanding what was going on but empathetically picking up on everyone’s anxiety and concern.
While Tracer jerked on the ground, Junkrat’s eyes fixated on the woman's body, soaking in every curve and admiring how perfectly the uniform hugged the contours of her spritely physique. Making sure to take in every inch of the girl's humiliation, he elbowed his portly companion in the ribs and winked at him suggestively. Roadhog emitted a gravelly, rumbling chuckle from beneath his grim-looking pig mask, the sound bellowing from deep within him like the bubbling of volatile swamp water.
Pharah felt terribly for her friend, but she also found it difficult to tear her eyes away from the quivering woman. A part of her wanted to cradle the smaller girl in her arms and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, while another part of her wanted to bury her face in between Tracer’s legs and give her the pleasure that she was so adamantly resisting. The bronze-skinned Egyptian suddenly felt her mother’s eyes on her and she quickly diverted her gaze, coughing awkwardly.
“Let’s just get back to the mission details,” Ana declared, trying to ignore the distracting scent of female arousal that waftinf through the room and tickling her nose.
“Well, I don’t like the idea of us trying to barrel through those battlements,” Soldier 76 growled as he surveyed the facility's outer defenses, “Even with me and Fareeha providing rocket support, it would take far too long to blow a hole into those walls.”
“Me, Genji, and Lucio can scale those walls, no problem,” Kiriko Kamori said proudly, spinning her kunai in her open palm. “We sneak in and we open the gate from the inside. Easy.”
“And I can also take out any automated turrets while I’m inside by redirecting their own firepower back at them,” Genji noted, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
Tracer had successfully regained her composure and managed to drag herself into an unoccupied chair. Despite her efforts to focus on the conversation, she found herself repeatedly distracted by the increasing discomfort and building pressure in her lower abdomen. Moira had a self-satisfied, bemused expression on her face, earning another dirty look from the British woman.
“Once we're in, we take down whatever comes our way. Ain't no room for mercy here, lethal rounds only. Stun ammunition won't cut it,” McCree declared, punctuating his words by smacking his fist into his palm with a rustic flair.
“Hoozah! I like the sound of that! No mercy for the clankers! I hate mercy!” Junkrat chirped approvingly.
Dr. Ziegler managed to refrain from bashing him over the head with her Caduceus Staff, though it wasn't easy.
“They’ll send their big bots out to kill us first. They always do,” grumbled Roadhog from across the room. It was the first words many of them had heard him speak.
“No worries, big fella! That’s where my immorality field comes in. No matter what they hit us with, we’ll still be standing once the dust has cleared!” Baptiste proudly boasted, though his confidence wilted slightly at the intense, disapproving look Roadhog shot him.
Tracer's grip on her chair was so tight that her knuckles turned a pale shade of white and it felt like her fingers were merging with the metal. Her neck arched back and her hips shifted desperately as wild cries escaped from between her gritted teeth. “Oh god! Oh fuck! Oh fucking god!” she screamed, biting down hard on her hand to muffle her embarrassing cries of ecstasy.
“Er...well, me and my squire will lead you all through the breached walls with our shields held high, charging through the enemy and scattering them like ashes!” Reinhardt beat his hand against his broad chest as he spoke.
“Reinhardt, that’s your solution to every problem!” Brigitte exclaimed with a cheerful laugh.
“Because it works!”
“If all you have is a hammer, then every problem will look like a nail,” Symmetra muttered as she scowled at the aging crusader.
“Well, at least it’s a big hammer!”
In the throes of overwhelming pleasure, her senses ablaze, Tracer suddenly found herself unable to contain the intensity. Waves of delight surged through every fiber of their being, threatening to unleash their euphoria in unrestrained vocalizations. To stifle the exuberance bubbling within, she bit down even harder onto her knuckles, breaking the skin as her teeth sank deeply into the flesh. The pain provided a brief, but fleeting, absence from the fire raging in her groin.
“Oh my...I mean...Jesse, while I understand the directive to use lethal force only, I remind you that I can peacefully incapacitate an entire squadron of enemies using my weather control drone and endothermic blaster,” Mei offered, her tone infused with a hopeful note
“And with my jump-jet, I could then take to the skies, unleashing a devastating rocket barrage to obliterate the criminals! That's a brilliant suggestion, Mei!” Pharah exclaimed, nodding her head in enthusiastic approval.
“—b-but that’s not at all what I meant...,” the Chinese climatologist whispered as she shrank into herself, realizing that peace was no longer a viable option.
“Oh no! I can’t hold it, I just can’t hold it! Please don’t look!” Tracer moaned miserably as she lurched in her seat, quickly losing the battle against her rising pleasure.
Everyone in the room was trying to continue with the meeting in a professional, respectful manner, but Tracer was quickly becoming too distracting for that to be possible.
“Uh…yes, well…a facility that size must be teeming with reinforcements. Is there any reliable way to shut down their comms?” Sojourn nervously suggested, making a conscious effort to avert her gaze from the expanding puddle of female arousal dripping from Tracer's chair.
Zaryanova shook her head, her own cheeks flushing red at the wanton display Tracer was making of herself, “Omnic technology supersedes our own in many ways. This facility is known as an Omnium, a self-improving, automated robotics factory. The only way we will be able to stop the omnic from communicating with each other is by crushing their metallic skulls beneath our boots.”
“Perhaps I should have invited that hacker to come along with me,” Moira responded thoughtfully, though she was really only speaking to herself. “Ms. Colomar does so grate on the nerves, though…”
“If we don't want to suffer a team-wipe, we need to come up with a strategy to handle Rammatra’s nanite swarms! They chewed right through my defensive matrix the last time we fought,” Hana Song whispered as she remembered how terrified she had been when the nanites had effortlessly bypassed her targeting array and began drilling their way through the hull of her mech.
Echo, sensing the girl’s distress, floated over to her to place a comforting metal hand on her shoulder.
“Not to worry Hana, I can replicate his swarms and send them right back at him!” the evolutionary, adaptive robot intoned in her pleasing, digitized voice. “He shall suffer as I have!”
Hana couldn't help but giggle at the less-than-flawless impersonation of their enemy.
As the meeting was drawing to a close, the sound of ripping spandex suddenly caught everyone’s attention. Tracer, having completely lost herself to her lust, was feverishly tearing at the crotch of her bodysuit, like an over-excited kid opening a Christmas present. The room fell silent as they watched her rip the fabric of her bodysuit with her powerful arms, exposing the pale skin of her toned stomach and glistening womanhood. Perspiration ran down her chest and pooled in the crease of her lower abdomen, while her legs trembled with anticipation.
When she masturbated normally, she would usually probe tenderly at her entrance or rub at the nub at the apex of her vagina until it popped out of its hood, but this time she simply took the four fingers of her free hand and speared herself upon them. The room let out a collective gasp as they saw the expression on their Tracer’s face, as it was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head and crossing sideways, her tongue was lolling out of her slack mouth, and her glowing cheeks were nearly as red as a tomato. She was releasing heavy, breathy pants as though she was completely overwhelmed by pleasure, and an obscene schlicking sound could be heard as she pounded her four fingers into her dripping slit.
“Ms. Oxton, you really must control yourself!” Moira admonished the young woman but received only a series of guttural moans from the woman in response.
“What a revolting display...,” Symmetra scoffed as her cybernetic hand covering her mouth.
“You two just shut up! She is unwell!” Brigitte cried out as she took the initiative to rush over to her friend. “Lena, is everything alright? Should I take you back to the medical wing?”
“Uh, I'm not sure it is such a good idea to approach her in this state...” Baptiste said with a worried look on his handsome face.
Tracer looked up at Brigitte with glazed eyes and an expression that made it clear that she was deep in the throes of ecstasy. “B-brig? I n-need your hand!” she finally managed to choke out.
“Of course! Anything!” Brigitte said as she gave the trembling woman her hand, expecting to help her up and escort her back to the examination room.
Tracer quickly grabbed Brigitte's hand, intertwining their fingers together. She looked up at her with wide eyes and a loving smile before guiding her friend’s fingertips down toward the warmth of her sopping womanhood.
“N-no!” Brigitte gasped as her fingers were forcefully nudged inside.
Tracer’s hips jerked as she began bucking against her friend’s fingers. “T-this is so much better! Y-you’re fucking fingers are so FAT! They're amazing!”
Brigitte was so stunned that she just stood there in bewilderment as one of her closest friends forced her fingers inside of her swampy snatch. Suddenly her senses came back to her and she snatched her hand away angrily, inadvertently sending a spray of arousal fluid flying across the room.
“What the hell, Lena!” she cried as she looked down at her soiled fingers, stringy with girlcum. “Someone help me take her back to t—”
Brigitte’s words were cut off as Tracer suddenly activated her chronal accelerator and instantly blinked herself into the air, above the Swedish girl's head. The two women fell to the floor in a sweaty heap, with Tracer’s glistening sex falling directly onto Brigitte’s face. “Y-yes! YEESH!” she exclaimed as she began grinding her overworked cunt into the girl’s gasping mouth. “Mmhh. Hnng! F-Fuck yes! Riding your pretty face with my fucking slit!”
Reinhardt felt himself blushing at the girl's uncouth language, suddenly wishing that he still wore his crusader's helmet. He hadn't suspected Tracer was capable of such language! But as he stared at the girl, he realized that saying the naughty words only seemed to heighten her pleasure.
She felt the space between her legs growing hot and wet. Her bright pink clit emerged from its hood as she felt her pleasure reaching a crescendo, and she ground her sensitive little button into Brigitte’s face with a series of desperate, undignified grunts. It was the most blissful feeling she had ever experienced, and her desperation to cum was raw and palpable.
Despite Brigitte's superior physical strength, which would normally allow her to easily throw Tracer from atop her, something primal had taken hold of the young woman. In an astonishing display, Tracer's thighs locked around Brigitte's ears with a grip akin to an unyielding iron vice and she couldn't break free. If her mouth wasn't muffled by pussy, she would have screamed for help.
As Tracer rode her friend’s face, she steadied herself by groping onto the Swedish woman’s sizable tits as hard as she could. “A-almost there, Brig! Your tits feel amazing! And your lips feel so good on me!” She grunted as her toned stomach twisted and coiled rhythmically to her gyrating hips. Thin trials of her vaginal secretions dripped from her trembling thighs.
“No one intervene!” Baptise shouted as several people shot up to go restrain Tracer, “If we interrupt Tracer while she is working through this mental state, it could permanently damage her psyche!”
Finally, the tiny time-traveler howled as her pleasure overcame her, and the orgasm she had been fighting to suppress throughout the entire meeting suddenly exploded through her. Her eyes slammed shut and her neck shot up as her tension gave way to unbelievable pleasure, and her thin body began to violently shudder and quake. The pink moistness at the center of her thighs contracted rhythmically and soon her arousal was spraying all over Brigitte’s disgusted face.
“Alright, enough of this!” Ana cried as she pushed Baptiste out of the way. The elderly woman withdrew her biotic rifle from her rifle holster and fired off a sleep dart into Tracer’s neck. The dart sank deeply, and the British woman immediately fell to the ground. Even as she lay unconscious on the floor, legs spread obscenely and her breath coming out of her in long, heaving gasps; her body continued to experience a series of involuntary orgasms, one after another, until finally, she began wetting herself as the room watched on in stunned silence. Several people scrunched up their noses as the room was filled with the acrid stench of piss. Brigitte managed to crawl away to the other side of the room, her face dripping with a steaming mixture of cum and urine. She felt as if she had almost drowned in her friend's bodily fluids.
With a heavy sigh, Winston ordered Genji and Lucio to carry Tracer back to the med-bay. Genji and Lucio gently clasped their arms underneath Tracer's armpits, lifting her up and hauling her out of the room. With the large hole ripped into her uniform, her dripping snatch and tight abdominal muscles were visible to every soldier and member of the cleaning staff they passed along the way. Meanwhile, back in the situation room, the meeting had descended into awkward silence. Winston was just about to call the meeting to a close when Junkrat suddenly clapped his hands together and jumped up excitedly.
“Wow! You Overwatch blokes sure know how to have a good time before a mission! Whad’ya have planned after we win?”
The End.
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Overwatch ENF: Bound by Pleasure