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Sellouts	By : salarta Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 4034 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any related properties, characters, ideas or concepts contained herein. This story is a fan-made work, and I make no money or profit from its creation and dissemination.

Chapter List
- 1-Sellouts
- 1
Author's Note: This is mostly fetish with a side of critique. Capcom tends to treat Jill and Claire like they're worth less than Chris and Leon, and only really good for supporting those two when around them. So why not explore what the world of Resident Evil as envisioned today would consider the best use for them? There's gotta be a reason we haven't heard from Jill since 2009 or Claire since 2014, and this is it. Keeping in mind that neither woman would accept any of this treatment if depicted in character.

"Come see what the new Umbrella is doing to make up for its past mistakes!"
Claire Redfield stood at her booth, ashamed, though her wide smile didn't show it. In her blue high heels and fishnet stockings, she wobbled, causing her like-colored froofy tutu miniskirt to ruffle. The motion sometimes teased her bare mons, disallowed any cover in the chance someone might get a peek and feel enthused to strike up a conversation. It paired with her top, a white lab coat in the form of a mini jacket too small to close, revealing a bikini top underneath.
All supplied by Umbrella. Or Blue Umbrella, as people called it these days due to changes in the logo. But if her uniform was embarrassing, her booth babe partner's had to be the most degrading outfit ever worn at a conference.
"Check out the firepower new Umbrella's packing to stop B.O.W. threats. Get yours today."
Jill Valentine. Survivor of the Spencer Mansion incident. Survivor of Raccoon City and Nemesis herself. A woman who fought with BSAA, endured two years of experiments and body control at the hands of Albert Wesker, a woman whose experiences with biohazard threats eclipsed those of nearly all men on active duty...
... was on display in pasties and a thong. Both using the Blue Umbrella logo. Her combat boots, belt with gun holster, fingerless gloves, shoulder harness with its own holsters, and Umbrella necklace made her lack of clothes look even more foolish. Armed to the teeth except for armor. Strategically smeared dirt and mud added the aesthetic of a woman who went through some things, calling back to photos from her escape, but nothing could overcome the sight of her breasts swaying obscenely every time she moved.
Or of the famous Jill Valentine inviting every man that passed her to take a good look at her, ahem, wares.
"Sir. Sir! Take a moment to learn about our offers. You won't be disappointed."
She growled as he came and went without so much as a glance. After years of service and a round of tests, she amounted to a body BSAA could exploit for good will in their dealings with the new Umbrella Corporation. Anger steamed off her sizzling hot tits on this cold exhibitor's floor, the twins hanging out alongside her cameltoe outlined by too-tight cotton, but what else could she do? Quit? Even in this incredibly sexist role, she at least aided the cause more than she could as an unwilling discharge barred from ongoing affairs.
The same could be said for Claire. When the new Umbrella requested her support, TerraSave shot them down... until a trove of data arrived in their inboxes. For the small, small price of Claire's aid in promotion, the NGO had free and full access to Umbrella's entire archives, something only available to top government agencies. Claire leapt at the chance to assist by signing their contract.
Nobody told her what angle her new job would take. She, like Jill, thought it meant trading on her survivor history. Tasteful ads about what the old Umbrella put them through and new Umbrella's commitment to preventing more of the same. The second part remained true. The first, however.
"Let Umbrella handle your logistics needs," Claire beckoned. "Decades of research right at your fingertips. With one phone call, you can have the answers to the latest biohazard threat in a third of the time it would take for you to figure it out on your own."
To emphasize, Claire turned to her nearby monitor and shook her rear. It brought a lift to her skirt, exposing her massive butt for scant seconds. It worked. Like Umbrella said. Few could deny her fuckhuge buns when they caught a glimpse, intrigued to check for themselves if she really had something of such ridiculous size or if it was only their imaginations. She would have clicked her heel in frustration if she had the chance to think about it, but her attention went to tapping through screens of pre-approved demo records until she reached footage of an attack in Greenport.
"Umbrella's resources allow them to analyze your encounters in real-time. Weaknesses are clear as day when you're in the hands of Umbrella."
That was Jill's cue. She inaudibly groaned, hefting a heavy piece from the table and raising it into prime boob position. Eyes landed where they belonged: on her jiggling rack, to please them visually with psychological attachments to the gun.
"Ngh, but what do you do with that information?" Jill said. "Ordinary guns won't do. That's why you need something with an extra punch, like Umbrella's latest and greatest creation, the Albert-01."
Saying his name flushed Jill's face. Though fury, she tried to pass it off as arousal, sliding the gun's barrel in her cleavage. She couldn't fathom why the new Umbrella forced her of all people to present it like a zealous groupie, but she didn't have to know. She was the T to Claire's A. Her only job here was slutting up her body to make a sale.
Speaking of selling.
"You may be wondering about that name. Umbrella chose it to recognize the man who made it all possible, a true visionary of our times: Albert Wesker. He saw a future of biohazards and looked for the means to fight them."
"You sound like a fan."
She clenched her jaw, masking her true feelings as a grin.
"You bet I am! Albert Wesker was the smartest, strongest, not to mention sexiest officer in S.T.A.R.S. even before he became an anti-biohazard stud. Just thinking about when I served under him gets me hot in ways you wouldn't believe."
She gasped. And winked. And fanned herself, pretending to be overcome with unbridled passion for the man who made her life hell in Africa. Emotions set aside for a performance of firm devotion. Flopping her knockers for the crowd, Jill giggled and filtered her voice through a tone both husky and syrupy sweet. The right mix of horny and affection.
For a cruel bastard that deserved none of it.
"If Wesker was here, I would bow at his feet and thank him for everything he's done. He's the best man I've ever met, and it was an absolute honor to be his little helper when he gave me the chance. He made me the woman I am today. His dream died with him, but I can still help Umbrella put his hard work to good use with this gun and the rest of the Anti-B.O.W. Arms Albert System Weapon Series."
Rage swelled from the pit of her stomach to the center of her chest, where that damned P-30 rested not too long ago, from the bile spilling out of her mouth. It took hours of practice in front of a mirror to get past her scowls, glares and overwhelming desire to put her fist through her reflection. She had to look pretty as a picture to convince buyers of how badly she yearned for what she now stroked.
Isolation had not helped her image, or self-image. Atrophied muscles from her time as Wesker's guinea pig made her weak girly arms barely able to raise what she held. She would say she felt like Action Barbie, if she didn't have figurines in her likeness already. No, a more apt description would be to say she felt like her own mascot, adhering to the strict guidelines of a toy to ensure she matched its features and saved Umbrella's budget from having to adjust its design.
They used her as a show pony. And she accepted, because it was the only action she would get as a washed-up has-been operative seen by BSAA as more risk than reward in the field.
"The Albert-01 can use regular handgun ammo, enhanced ammo, and a special bullet created by Umbrella called Rapid-Acting Mycetotoxic ROunDs, or RAMRODs that can fight fungus-based bioweapons."
"I know what I'd like to ram with my rod."
Jill took the line and accompanied snickering in stride. She had to. If she wanted to keep the crowd. Which she did. She had a quota to meet, and every body - every body - counted.
"Yes, it's a very sexy weapon. It comes with high marks."
"Like you?"
"Yes, like me," Jill said, fully aware of the guy's meaning, playing into it as Umbrella expected. "It emits a laser from its sight, and when it's fired, it lets out a flash of blue before leaving a smoking hole in its target."
She saw the same man ready to spout another of his unfunny quips. This time, she was prepared, and got the jump as protocols for these gigs said would boost appeal. "It's like sex with me in your hands, but with a LOT more rounds before it's spent."
Their approving chuckles showed the wisdom of Umbrella's marketing. For this purpose. For cheapening herself to make an impression. An impression she handed off to Claire, now leaning over a purposely low table to reach a keyboard.
Bent over at the waist, Claire enticed with an upskirt view that showcased her abundance. Two full, round, fat cheeks and a scandalous plug between them capped with Blue Umbrella's logo. They quite literally owned her ass, but she feigned ignorance, tapped through the keys to pull up a search on the Umbrella Archives. In a moment, she had a list of enemies on screen.
"Here's the known biohazards on which RAMRODs are effective. Through extensive field and lab testing, Umbrella determined exactly how to combat these B.O.W.s, including the dreaded Fumer. If you turn your attention to the-"
That's when it happened. A bold slap. Her booty rippled from the blow, turning red in contrast to her silly tutu. Reflexively, it tensed for another, slowly relaxing, only to earn another smack once it had settled. She balled her fist as tightly as her ass around its plug. She wanted to deck whoever did it. Badly. The urge tingled in her knuckles. Fighting the urge, she persisted in her presentation. Both of them. Wagging her butt as an inducement to stay and listen to her otherwise boring spiel.
"A-as you can see, they have a layer of gunk over their bodies that's hard to penetrate."
"I bet you know all about that."
Claire snarled under her breath. "Yes, I do, thanks to the wonderful people at Umbrella. They satisfy all my needs and then some."
"Mine too," Jill added, shaking her tits into a wild jiggle. Albert-01 held aloft to her side. "I couldn't ask for a better partner."
That's when someone said it. The inevitable words that made her blood boil. The words that no doubt someone in BSAA said when they shoveled her off to this kind of work.
"Aren't you a little too old for combat?"
A vein throbbed on her forehead. At 46 years old, she remained no less capable than Chris. What did one extra year alive give him that she didn't have? With the right retraining, she could have fought on the front lines just as easily as before. Maybe better after Kijuju. But BSAA had decided for her, so with a forced smile, she answered in a way most flattering... for Umbrella.
"I'm speaking past tense, of course. There's only one kind of action I'm good for these days, and it's not in the field."
Her innuendo pleased them. Of course. Offering up a vapid chuckle, she went into the meat of her pitch. "Nemesis would've been no different than a naughty ex for me if I had this bad boy when escaping Raccoon City."
"What's Raccoon City?"
"What's a Nemesis?"
"Did your tits slow you down?"
That none of these people seemed to remember her mad scramble out of the city before a nuke hit down on it stung almost more than their ogling. An urge welled within her heaving bust to tell them about the zombie dogs, the giant spiders, the musclebound giant who stalked her with tentacles and rocket launcher. But knowing these fucks, they would be far more interested in the giant cock she spotted under his trenchcoat and fantasies of him breaking her pussy with its size. Better not to remind them while she could still slip free of the topic.
"Yes, they did," Jill lied. "They're so heavy - not like the Albert-01 or anything else in the Umbrella Arsenal System. They're so light that even I can carry with these custom holsters."
"Looks to me like you've already got one big enough to take anything you put in it."
Choosing not to dignify that taunt with a response, Jill proceeded in her script. The gun slotted into her thigh holster snugly. Hands free, she used them to massage fresh oil all over her shiny rack. Once per half hour. Those were the rules. Fluorescent ceiling lights reflected on her glistening skin. Her fingers worked it deep. That constant motion guided gazes to them, where her perky billboards did their duty of top notch brand recognition. But her script didn't stop there.
"Aaaah, that's better. These holsters do more than hold my gun for me. They analyze my battle data too. Next time I use my gun, it'll help me line up my shots so well that even someone as old as me can hit my target. Knowing I can whip it out at a moment's notice with perfect aim gives me the confidence and peace of mind to focus on my other needs. I simply couldn't do it without Umbrella."
Not to be outdone by Jill, Claire reached down and scratched her prodigious rear. For a simple gesture, her nails dragging against that perfect bounty had quite an impact. It teased of what awaited anyone willing to engage. Marring her untanned paleness with crimson claw marks, she picked up where Jill left off.
"Furthermore, scientists assess this data and send frequent updates to optimize the hardware. No jams, no worries. You won't find yourself running around beating off zombies with an actual umbrella like I did in Harvardville."
"Did the zombies eat your ass?"
From her vantage point, past the hump of her backside, Claire couldn't see who said it - let alone any of her gawkers. Her wide load blocked her whole view except the fringes. But she had an answer prepared for the occasion built into her attire.
"That's why I have this," she said, flicking her plug. It glowed briefly and faded. "It monitors my vitals for health and other changes including infection. It's in the experimental phase, Umbrella's planning to make it less invasive when they officially launch, but rectal measures are always a good starting point. As a proud supporter of Umbrella, I couldn't wait to stuff it in there for a chance to aid their research and give myself a little extra protection in one go."
"Because zombies eat your ass?"
"Because zombies eat my ass," she snidely repeated, pushing the absurdity of that idea from mind. Besides, with the beep of her watch, they were almost done. Finished. One more hour and they could clock out. Yet this triggered the worst, most important part of their presence as booth babes. Sighing, she began their final pitch. "Anyway, if you want to find out more on your own time, sign up for Umbrella's mailing list."
"That's not all. If you sign up for Umbrella's mailing list, you can... umm..."
Jill directed their attention to her claims to fame in this setting with a suggestive bounce. They did the talking for her. No long-winded pitches about discounts, trial periods or early deals, just a killer rack and a chance to play with it. Umbrella knew their audience well, too, because they quickly had a line out to the hallway of eager signees.
To the other side, Claire. Hunched over the table. Entering E-mails into Umbrella's address book as prospective buyers - and undoubtedly a lot of liars - enjoyed a close-up of that ass. Stroked it. Smacked it. Patted it like a good pet at their beck and call, occasionally tapping Claire's butt plug and giving her a good jolt as it stirred within her anal folds to their touch. Vibrations pummeled a hole she fought fiercely to keep puckered in between her keystrokes.
"You're done," an irritated Claire announced. "Next."
Leading that man to shuffle across the booth to Jill. Hands on her hips, straightening her back, Jill arched to invite his grabby mitts on her soft plush tits. He took the offer swiftly, squeezing while Jill resisted a moan. Parlayed it into a soft grunt. Rolling her eyes, Jill abhorred how sensitive Wesker's experiments left her breasts as the man pinched her nipples through her pasties. The jutting peaks tented Umbrella's logo. Added a dimension to its otherwise 2D flatness. Almost as if they were made to promote this very symbol of rebirth, its edges slipping to expose more of her deep pink aureoles.
"Worth it," the man said as he fondled.
"I'm glad you approve," Jill lied. "You will receive plenty of perks from joining-"
"Oh, these are the only perks I'm interested in. I'm deleting everything from the mailing list as soon as it comes in."
The brazen, insulting honesty of his remarks just about floored her. But she couldn't act on them. No matter how pissed she got. With a smile that betrayed her screaming outrage, she went into her script for just this occasion.
"I'm glad you like them, but I promise that Umbrella's arsenal is much better. You'll be more than satisfied if you give Umbrella a second chance like I did."
"If you say so."
She doubted he would listen. Or any of them would. Any of the hundreds of men waiting to molest Claire's ass or abuse her tits and move on to other booths. After all, what were a couple skanky middle-aged booth babes in the grand scheme of things?
- 1
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Sellouts