Becoming A Team Player [Overwatch]

Summary: After nearly completing the process of joining Overwatch, newbie and out and proud lesbian Tracer is invited out to a friendly party with some of the senior members. But McCree and Mercy soon decide to have a little fun with the new recruit, and while Tracer tries to resist she soon finds herself loving it.

Credit: Rabiator

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Geneva, one of the biggest cities in Switzerland, was known for many things: art, culture, history, scenery and more. But one thing it was sorely lacking, at least to Lena Oxton's point of view, was a thriving nightlife. It was certainly no London in that respect, that much was obvious. What good was culture, scenery and the rest of that nonsense if it bored you to tears learning about it?

Case in point-Lena was out celebrating her all but guaranteed acceptance into the Overwatch program. The place was nice, but like much of Geneva it felt a little too cold to Lena, a touch too clinical and sterile. People were laughing, talking, even flirting here and there; all the things that normally happened at bars in the evening. But no one was laughing too loud, everyone kept their attention focused a little too much on themselves. For the young pilot, who was not yet twenty years old, it all seemed rather dull. The lights were too bright, and the music was too quiet.

The only positive spin was that the people were pretty fun for the most part. Apart from people questioning her about how it felt to be the youngest pilot to graduate from Royal Air Force flight school (Lena had enjoyed that question, the first dozen or so times. Then she'd found it dull thinking of a new answer, so she'd come up with a scripted response and stuck to it...and even that got dull after she'd reached the three hundredth time), or if she was nervous about joining Overwatch.

Taking a sip from her glass of gin and ice (Lena had never been one for fancy drinks which put her out of sorts in a bar where every cocktail on the menu had at least six ingredients, at least one she had no idea how to pronounce), she considered that if anyone understood how she felt, it was people like her prospective colleagues. For one thing, Lena didn't really get nervous, at least not the way most people did. She felt fear, of course, she'd just never let it stop her from doing what she needed to do in any given situation, which was why she'd excelled in the high speed, high danger world of fighter pilots.

For another, each of these people were special in their own way, some of them prodigies like Lena, others just exceptional in their chosen fields. Now that she'd passed the exhaustive (and exhausting, to her mind) battery of tests-written, verbal, psychological, physiological and so on-completed the mandatory training courses, and been vetted at the highest levels of Overwatch leadership, she was practically a shoo-in. There was a final interview, to be conducted not by Overwatch's director but rather a random pair of active members tomorrow. Allegedly, having the agents rotate giving the interview helped them screen candidates for potential faults only they could see with the benefit of field experience, and it was supposed to help them re-assess any personal blindspots they might have personally.

To Lena, it was just a formality. When she was younger, she'd always found interviews boring and while that hadn't changed, she'd learned that being good at them was a skill like anything else. If she could operate a multi-million dollar aircraft, Lena fancied she could handle an interview's relatively formal and mundane questions.

Next to her, Jack Morrison gave her a small nod, drinking beer from a cut-crystal glass with an expression on his face that he'd prefer something canned. Lena understood that he was physically augmented: faster, tougher, and stronger than any normal soldier. Personally, she was glad Overwatch hadn't made such a process mandatory for all recruits-she liked her body the way it was just fine, home grown and unmodified. The pair of them exchanged some polite conversation about their respective countries and upbringings; Lena the big city girl and Jack the older, rural American man. They still had more in common than Lena might have thought, which was probably why Jack had approved of her getting this far in the selection process.

Lena smoothed the front of her shirt, wearing a button-down that she felt almost relaxed in, after years of wearing a uniform. She'd still have preferred something with more color than white, and with far less sleeves, but the shirt and the tight black dress pants she was wearing were at least practical, if not exactly fun.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Lena looked to the side and up to see the owner of the refined, accented voice-and then she looked up a little more. Standing next to her and discreetly signaling to the bartender for another flute of champagne was Doctor Angela Ziegler, the Overwatch agent better known as Mercy. Lena felt like she already knew the doctor fairly well-if only because of the rather thorough medical tests that Angela had insisted on running herself. Lena hadn't let another woman see that much of her body since her last girlfriend.

"Oh, yeah. It's a great place, eh?" Lena offered, her words not quiet matching her expression. She was a little out of sorts around Angela-ordinarily, Lena would have chalked it up to the other woman's looks. While Angela (not Mercy unless they were in the field, and only then) was very attractive in a blue eyed, platinum haired, tall and regal sort of way, she wasn't exactly Lena's usual type, and there was something else beside. Sure, her appeal was obvious-all long lithe legs, surprisingly generous curves atop her trim body, especially now clad in a black and silver coat with a front that ended at Angela's waist and a long, slightly split rear that dangled just above the floor-it seemed halfway between a formal labcoat and a fancy evening gown. Underneath, Angela was wearing black stockings, and a tight dress that stopped at her mid-thigh and exposed an eye-popping amount of pale, smooth cleavage. Between the natural difference in their heights and the high heeled white boots Angela was wearing, Lena felt like she was talking to the world's most glamorous tree.

But aside from Angela's looks, there was something almost off about her personality, under the charm and dizzying accent. Sometimes, when Angela didn't think anyone was looking there was a...strange twinkle in her eyes. If Lena didn't know any better, she would have called the expression predatory, not quite hostile but always very intent on whatever she was examining. It almost made Lena feel at times less like a patient of the good doctor and more like a specimen.

"Not what you're used to though, I'd wager. Me neither, to be honest with ya."

Jesse McCree, another American in Overwatch's employ, leaned his back against the bar next to Lena's chair, as Morrison quietly sidled over. As the older man mingled with the rest of the large group-active Overwatch members, some of their friends from town and various lower level staff members-a look seemed to pass between Jack and Jesse, something familiar and almost practiced. What it signified, Lena couldn't guess at, but as she considered the two people flanking her, she supposed it was nice that they were a little closer to her own age. Jesse and Angela each had a decade of life and experience on Lena, but they were a lot closer to her in mindset and attitude than the more senior membership like Reyes, Reinhardt or the Egyptian lady, Ana.

Senior members. More like senior citizens, innit? Still, impressive Overwatch even lets them in the field, and more impressive that they even want to. Can't say I'd like to be doing this job when I'm pushing sixty-assuming I get that long.

Lena smiled at McCree as he drank a glass of water, a little surprised at his drink of choice. From everything she'd heard about the man, from official Overwatch mission details to rumors about a violent, criminal past, she'd not have taken him for a teetotaler. Though maybe, like he said, it was just the choice of venue. Like Lena, he looked uncomfortable in his formal clothes, having left his collar unbuttoned and his shirt untucked, wearing a crimson shirt over black slacks, his muscular frame packed into a blazer that hung loose as though he'd thought to make room for a holster underneath.

"Yeah, you could bloody say that again." Lena smirked, considering the bartender as he fetched her a fresh drink. The man had a face that was somehow aggressively nondescript, and his black vest and bowtie had the look of clothes that he had other copies of just filling up a closet somewhere. Lena wondered if people applied for jobs here in Geneva, or if they were assigned by some sort of overly involved Nordic community public welfare committee.

"Well, don't worry about that. As far as I'm concerned, this party is just beginning. I know it's a little early to formally welcome you to the team just yet, but...I figure we can rustle up a bit more fun than this." McCree said, scratching idly at his beard.

Angela nodded, taking a deceptively delicate sip from her glass of champagne. One of her well-manicured eyebrows waggled just for a moment at Lena.

"This sort of thing is mostly for the older guard, dress up all nice, sip a few overpriced cocktails on the UN's tab, and then get home in time for the late edition news. As if they don't all have a direct pipeline to better sources of information." The platinum haired beauty chuckled to herself, clacking her exquisite fingernails along her glass in an almost musical display. For a doctor who routinely performed operations herself, Angela's hands were miraculously clear of so much as a hint of calluses. Tracer figured it had to be a result of some combination of good genes and strange Swedish beauty products.

"But not for you two? I don't suppose you have...plans together?" Lena said, giving the two several quick sideways glances, back and forth, not really searching their expressions, but just their reactions.

McCree seemed nonplussed, while Angela just laughed, a high airy titter that seemed at least partly fake.

"Oh of course, Mr. McCree and I are thick as thieves, Lena-why we joined Overwatch at around the same time. But not together, in the way that you might think. At least, not only in that way." She whispered, running one finger around the wet rim of her glass with a coy wink.

Jesse snorted, finishing the rest of his water with an audible gulp.

"Jeeze, Angie, there's no point in bothering Oxton here with ancient history. Especially when we're not even sure if she's gonna be on the team yet."

Lena half suspected she was baiting him, so she didn't rise to it. Instead she did her best to look nonchalant as she drained the rest of her drink and left the ice clinking as she set it down.

"I think you were saying something about the fun just getting started?" Lena inquired, only too happy to change the subject.

Jesse nodded, his hand coming up about halfway to his face before he stopped. A habitual tic, probably, the man trying to adjust a hat that he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing. Lena had seen that all the time with flight officers trying to tighten straps that weren't there. It put a smile on her face to see this older, foreign man, a hero of Overwatch, make such a familiar, human gesture.

"Sure did. Come find us when this little shindig is over. It shouldn't be too long now-Reyes looks like he's leaving without saying goodbye, as usual. These oldtimers, once one of 'em goes, the rest are quick to follow."

Lena saw Reyes stalk out of the bar, looking like he was in a huff about something. Morrison stared at his back, before turning around and facing the rest of the assembled bar patrons with a practiced, disarming smile that said "Everything's fine here, don't be fooled", but the expression didn't reach his eyes. It looked like trouble between the two of them, but Lena paid it no mind-the longer people worked together, the more they argued, especially the top men.

Sure enough, people began filtering out, though most of Overwatch's active agents came over to find Lena first. Separated from Angela and Jesse, along with whatever strange camaraderie the two had between them, Lena was soon pulled into a long line of farewells. Ana gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek, Reinhardt shook her hand hard enough to leave it a bit numb, while Jack wished her the best of luck on her interview the next morning. After that, the lot of them seemed to retire off to base, mostly in town cars of the nondescript, government motor lot sort.

Walking outside and enjoying the fresh, bracingly cool air, Lena saw Jesse and Angela waiting for her. They were going through their own ritual goodbyes with the rest of the group, though the pair had a lot more leeway in cutting things short. Jesse barely more than grunted at everyone, except for Ana who he shared a rather warm and surprisingly long hug with-Lena wondered if he thought of the older woman as a motherly figure of sorts.

In a few minutes, the trio were left alone in the bright lights and oddly quiet streets of Geneva sprawling out in their neat little arrangement around them.

"Well then, Ms. Oxton," Angela said, managing to keep a beaming smile somehow even when she was speaking.

"Shall we, as they say, get out of here? We know a couple of fun places around town, a bit more lively than this one. They're probably more your...speed, as it were."

Lena returned her smile, a bit of a flush to her cheeks. While still mostly sober, the young woman was feeling a happy, quiet buzz in the back of her head. Without the more senior members of Overwatch around, she also felt herself loosening up a bit, and she undid the top two buttons of her shirt in a quick motion, feeling like she could breathe again.

"Lead the way, mates." She chuckled. McCree and Ziegler seemed like a fun sort of pair, especially with their funny (to Lena, anyway) accents and very particular mannerisms. The last thing she wanted was to cut the night short just so she could wake up for something as pointless as an interview that she was sure to nail, anyway. Staying out all night and going out the next day looking none the worse for wear was practically a Lena Oxton speciality at this point.

One quick cab ride later-Lena felt slightly crowded as McCree and Ziegler insisted she sit in-between them-they arrived at their destination, a fairly bland looking white brick building with cursive signage in French that Lena couldn't read. There was a man guarding the door whose posture and demeanor screamed ex-military, but to Lena's surprise he waved the three in, opening the door for them. Something about his face, even with his eyes hidden by obnoxiously large sunglasses, suggested he was familiar with the group.

"Oh! I'm surprised this place is your idea of a good time." Lena said as she walked inside ahead of the others, with Angela giving her a "go-ahead" wave that was both inviting and insistent.

She'd been expecting...a dive bar, maybe, or an underground music club, maybe even one of those places that didn't market itself to tourists but was actually made for American expatriates that wanted an authentic experience. Not this. McCree and Angela had taken to her to a strip club, and one they apparently had been to before.

"I hope you're not embarrassed, Lena. Nothing wrong with a few drinks at a gentleperson's club, is there?"

Angela smiled without teeth and Lena surmised, correctly, that the older woman was having a laugh. Political correctness aside, this place wasn't fit for a gentle person of any gender; a far cry from the discreet yet alluring clubs of this sort she'd been to in the past. "Dancers" of every race and gender filled the place, with seats arranged around a three-pointed cross-shaped stage, lit with flattering yet dark reds, flashing in red and white. There, a man with more oil on his body than a family sized order of chips was grinding on the stage in front of a table of women, naked except for a codpiece that only accentuated his bulge. On another platform, a woman wearing boots that looked downright dangerous was fellating a dildo shaped like a horse's member, and looking like she was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Do you two...come here a lot?" Lena asked, walking through the club in a daze. Angela was practically steering her through the place with one surprisingly firm hand on Lena's bicep, as the three cut a path through the crowd of servers, club goers, and dancers on their way to get a nice, big...cash tip.

Angela spoke in her ear, suddenly very close. Her breath was hot on Lena's neck, scented with an almost antiseptic smell.

"Oh yes. They do a lime rickey here that is the best thing I've ever tasted...almost."

Lena raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't have time to think of a response before they came to a brief stop. As outside, another man was guarding another door in a relatively quieter section of the club, with the letters "P.T.I." outlined on the black door in gold paint. When he saw McCree he smiled, reaching to open the door for him.

"Ah, Monsieur McCree, is good to see you again! Your room is all ready for you, right this way!"

McCree slapped the man on the shoulder in a friendly way, handing him a folded up cash note as they passed. Doctor Ziegler pinched the man's cheek as she walked by, ushering Lena ahead of her. In moments they arrived at a darkly lit, much quieter private room. On one side was a small bar that McCree hastened to, fixing drinks for Lena and Angela. Chairs were arranged facing a small stage, complete with gleaming stripper pole in the middle, and the whole room had the feeling of a place the disgustingly wealthy might come to discuss business while being entertained by a pretty young professional.

Clearly, the night had taken a turn that Lena had not been expecting. But if this was how Overwatch members liked to spend their time, she wasn't about to complain-there were worse things to do with your colleagues than watch a gorgeous, tarted-up dancer shimmy and shake, after all.

"Overwatch's private room, kept on reserve. You'd be surprised how often this place is already booked by some of the other members. Winston especially."

Lena couldn't tell if Angela was joking or not, and decided she didn't really want to know.

"So, when will the dancer be along?" Lena ventured, taking a martini glass from McCree and then sitting down only after the American did. As before, she was flanked by the pair, with Angela arranging herself delicately over the large chair, her posture prim and proper, almost comically out of place in a room where women came to get euro notes stuffed in their thongs.

McCree shrugged. "Oh, it usually only takes a few songs or so."

Lena raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, but decided to just enjoy her drink and the company for the time being. The night was still fairly young, and she decided that if things got awkward she could always excuse herself with needing to be up early. Though it occurred to her that most people would consider this situation to already be rather awkward. Clearly, Overwatch was a more idiosyncratic place of work, which probably came from their global sensibility and all.

McCree seemed only too happy to play bartender as Lena and Angela spoke, with the former asking questions about the Valkyrie suit Angela had designed. Lena preferred the comparative safety of an enclosed cockpit but something about a personal flight system did appeal to her more reckless nature. Angela waved off her technical questions, mentioning that Torbjorn had handled most of that sort of thing.

"I can tell you that the suit is so form-fitting...it had to be designed that way, you know for bio-conduciveness that sometimes, it barely feels like I'm wearing anything at all. Flying through the sky all by myself, feeling almost completely naked, it is quite a rush." Angela polished off her third (fourth? At this point Lena had lost count) glass of champagne, indulging in an almost wistful sigh.

"A naked flying gorgeous woman? No wonder people call you Overwatch's guardian angel." Lena joked, giggling to herself as she relaxed in the chair, feeling warm and slightly light headed.

Angela barely indicated that she heard Lena's words, instead cocking her head to one side, eyes closed. Clearly she was listening to the music, which to Lena sounded like every other song she'd heard in this club-loud, with too much bass, and lyrics she could barely hear, let alone understand. To Angela, however, it was clearly striking a rather significant chord.

"Oh my god, I effin' love this song. Lena, you have to dance with me, c'mon!"

Angela had practically bolted up from her chair, heels folding underneath like structural supports as she shrugged out of her coat. One hand reached for Lena, tugging at her wrist like a mother yanking a disobedient child along. Lena looked over at McCree, her expression both confused and pleading.

"She's not serious, is she?"

McCree nodded, cutting up a slice of lemon to add to his water with a dangerous lack of precision. He barely looked up at he responded, with the air of someone who'd heard such a question many times before.

"Oh, you bet. Angie doesn't like to dance alone, I learned that a long time ago. It's best to just go along with her, she'll tire herself out in no time."

Lena rolled her eyes at this, but Angela was still pulling at her wrist, glancing back with a firm glint in her eyes. It was that look Lena had seen before, here and there, and it made Angela resemble that one woman in every group of friends who insisted on making the plans, and would rest at nothing to browbeat everyone else into going along with her. Lena could just picture her lecturing a patient of her's for not taking care of themselves and practically scaring the poor sod into a lifetime of moderate exercise and healthy eating, some sort of avenging angel Florence Nightingale.

Still, Lena didn't mind a dance every now and then, she was just caught off guard by Angela suddenly springing into action. She followed Angela up onto the small stage, grateful her own heels were far shorter and more sensible than Angela's boots, though the blonde woman didn't miss a beat. McCree settled into a chair as Lena and Angela began to dance, their bodies moving slowly at first, but with growing sensuality.

The pair soon found a rhythm, with Lena smiling and giggling to herself as her body bumped into Angela's taller, curvier form. Angela swayed and shimmied in her boots, her chest rising and falling in her tight dress, her curvaceous body looking like someone had practically poured her into the sheer garment. Lena almost felt jealous, though she fancied herself rather appealing in her own way, perhaps not quite as showy as Angela, but undeniably sexy. Her body was firmer than Angela's, with a taut midsection and lean, muscled legs, petite like most pilots. Her one concession to vanity instead of simple athleticism was her firm, round sculpted ass, which was practically straining at her tight pants as she and Angela danced

Lena was a little uncomfortable, dancing with Angela like they were long lost friends, but then she'd had plenty of evenings like this out at clubs after a near riotous basement show. She didn't even really mind McCree's presence, since he seemed more interested in Angela than her. No matter how often Lena was around men who were aware of her sexuality, it was always a slight relief when they didn't bring it up in any way, and were only too happy to respect her orientation.

Suddenly, Lena felt a slight tug at her shirt, fingers tracing along the front and toying clumsily with her buttons. It was Angela, reaching out to Lena's shirtfront, even as she was trying to shrug out of the straps of her dress.

"Oi easy there, Angela." Lena, her cheeks flushed and hot. Being this close to Angela, drinking in the sight of her body, feeling their forms slide across each other, lightly bump into each other, even grinding softly here and there had her feeling more than a little aroused. But this was all going a bit far, right, especially with McCree here.

Or was it? As Angela shimmied out of her dress, unzipping it in the back with a slow, sensually languid tug of her zipper, Lena admitted she might not have been thinking clearly. Angela's body was a little softer than Lena's, but her full, firm breasts were quite the sight to behold, as Angela wasn't wearing a bra or, indeed as Lena glanced down, any underwear at all. The mound of her pussy was completely hairless, and Angela seemed completely without shame as she ran a hand across her own body sensually, cupping her large breasts, free of any blemish and topped with almost bright pink nipples that were quite obviously hard with excitement.

Stepping out of her dress, Angela forcefully undid Lena's shirt, nearly ripping a few buttons off in her haste. Lena gasped at the soft but firm pressure of Angela's nails on her skin, her fingertips feeling almost shockingly cool against Lena's warm, flushed skin. Lena glanced to one side, perhaps hoping to appeal in vain to McCree once more, and saw that the man was leering at the pair of them openly. His face had the same sort of hungry, predatory expression to it she had seen on Angela's face before, and McCree shifted somewhat in his seat, spreading his legs in an expansive, territorial posture.

As Angela took Lena's shirt off, revealing her navy bra that cupped her own much more modest breasts compared to Angela's but no less appealing. Her mind was spilling as Angela got closer, actually tucking one hand inside Lena's waistband, tracing her finger just outside Lena's pussy lips before slipping back outside. To her even greater surprise, Lena felt herself shimmying her waist as Angela worked at her pants, unthinkingly sticking her plump, mouth-watering ass out as Angela pulled her pants down. Lena stepped out of the tight pants, wearing nothing but a thong and her shoes now, feeling her heart racing as her thighs rubbed together instinctively, her nipples almost painfully hard.

"Told you the dancer would be along soon, Tracer. Though I probably should have said 'dancers.'" McCree grinned to himself as he drank in the sight of both women's gorgeous, sensual forms.

Before she knew what was happening, Angela had stepped off of the raised stage, clacking her way to McCree's chair with an obvious swing in her hips. Lena watched her go, unable to help admiring the soft dimples in Angela's lower back, or the way her waist tapered in before flowing out into the soft, thick curves of her ass that seemed like they would be clapping and smacking against each other with even the slightest effort. What had started as just a bit of harmless fun between two dancing women had clearly accelerated faster than Lena could have ever predicted, but McCree and Angela were acting like this was all business as usual. Was this some sort of lewd Overwatch hazing ceremony?

Lena was almost right, though she didn't know it just yet. She bit her lower lip in slight apprehension, still dancing by herself in a sort of mindless rhythm, her body moving on instinct, with her lithe legs on display and her ass barely contained by her dark blue thong, pussy lips openly visible through the small triangle of fabric covering her. Lena had never danced in heels before, but she couldn't deny they made her legs feel longer and her ass sit that much higher, an eminently smackable expanse of pale booty that was on display like never before.

As Lena watched, conflicting feelings running through her mind, Mercy draped herself across McCree's body. The busty blonde was soon grinding her ass into McCree's lap as he stared at her full, heaving chest, though he kept glancing back up at Lena in a way that made her feel a little uncomfortable. Still, she couldn't help but admire the way Angela's body writhed and moved, a faint hint of sweat trickling down the small of her back as she worked her body for all it was worth.

"I hope you're not just planning on staring all day, Lena. A job like this, well, it really is a two woman task if you know what I mean." Angela's tone had a sickly sweet chirp to it, both alluring and commanding as she cast a glance over her shoulder at Lena.

Lena stammered, blushing in a way that only highlighted the cute, delicate features of her face, eyes wide in her head.

"Uh, well, I don't know if that's such a good idea. And I wouldn't want to...cramp your style?" She offered, nearly stumbling over the words. Things were simply moving too fast for her to keep up. Lena felt like she was performing in a play she'd never read the script for while McCree and Angela kept glaring at for not hitting her mark.

"Come on now, it's not that hard...yet." Angela flashed a smirk at McCree, who seemed content to let Angela do all the talking. With those huge, firm jugs in his face, practically clapping up and down off of Angela's chest, it wasn't hard to see why he was otherwise occupied. His hands rested on the chair as Angela turned around in one smooth motion, lifting one leg completely up off the ground before she pivoted, ending up facing Lena. It was one of the more impressive bits of flexibility Lena had seen, and that was going some. thrusting her hips back and sliding her thick ass around his tight pants.

"Just come down here and dance for us a little bit. Nobody on the team will like working with you if you're some uptight little girl." Angela teased, though there wasn't much playfulness in her tone.

Before, Lena had known when she was being baited, having McCree dangle the prospect of Overwatch membership in front of her. But now, turned on, nearly naked, and very out of her element, she couldn't help herself. McCree egged her on further, even as Angela ran her hands down his firm chest.

"Angie's right there, Lena. Don't want everyone thinking you're some kind of stuck-up prude."

Lena, who had never been called stuck-up or a prude a day in her life, had officially had enough. She felt a scintilla of hesitation, but her mind was made up as her stubborn streak and competitive nature worked together as they often did. She stepped off the stage, moving slowly but with dogged determination on her shaky, unstable heels.

She began dancing in front of the two, doing her very best to put on a sexy little show despite having very little experience. Still, her natural grace and athleticism, along with her undeniably fuckable body, made it a very lewd sight indeed. Lena's ass bounced as she swung her hips from side to side, dipping down low, her legs ramrod straight as she bent at the waist. Facing away from the pair helped Lena a bit, even as she felt a strangely enjoyable kind of shame from knowing that McCree was probably staring at her ass like a piece of meat.

"Yeah girl, shake it!" He called, clearly enjoying himself.

Angela called out to her, telling her to put her face down, to stick her ass out even further. Cheeks burning at the humiliation of being directed like some kind of for-display slut, Lena only felt that feeling deepen as she obeyed. Soon, she was dropping her body down low, knees spread wide as she stuck her ass out, ankles tense as she ran her hands up and down her body, touseling her short hair as she began to feel herself getting lost in this strangely enjoyable performance.

"Oh, I just knew deep down you were a nasty little dyke slut!" Angela hissed, rubbing her nipples openly as she clapped her ass just inches away from McCree's face.

Lena felt she should say something, but couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. She wanted to fit in after all, and if this kind of obscene display was what members of Overwatch were into...well, it wasn't so bad after all. That was what she told herself as McCree encouraged her to shake her "fat ass", and Angela drew her closer to the pair, hitting Lena's asscheeks with a series of heavy open-palmed slaps. Her asscheeks wiggled and clapped as Angela spanked her, making Lena jump in place, her breasts shaking, her mind awash in strange, overwhelming yet somehow enjoyable sensations.

The pair of twerking, dancing beauties shook their asses and strutted their stuff foor what felt like an hour with Lena losing much of her sense of time. But as quickly as the strange night's events had started, they seemed to start, just as Lena felt something in herself nearly giving way, as Angela's hands roamed over more and more of her body, stroking her thighs, touching her face, but stopping just short of anything too lewd, leaving Lena nearly feeling like she should ask for more.

As Angela had started things, she ended them, slowly walking away from Tracer and beginning to get dressed. She didn't bother to zip her dress up, and simply carried her coat over her shoulder. McCree draped one arm across her waist, giving Tracer a cheeky grin as she began to slowly get dressed herself.

"Not bad, Tracer. For a rug-muncher."

Lena stung at the crude, insulting words-she'd punched people for less. Yet it was all she could do to slowly pull her bra back on as she got dressed. Like an obedient puppy, she hurried to follow McCree and Angela out of the club, which was nearly empty now. Nobody paid her much of a second glance, and yet somehow Lena still felt that people were staring holes through her body as she left. Her mind was swimming at the night's turn of events, and Lena wasn't sure how she actually felt about everything, her body a tangle of nerves and anticipation.

One thing was for certain, when she got back to her hotel room tonight, she was going to be in severe need of some...stress relief. Something told McCree and Angela were going to indulge in much the same, only with each other.

The next morning, Lena was sitting in a small conference room in Overwatch headquarters, on one side of an oval table. The room's harsh lighting beat down on her, and Lena sipped at her coffee, thankful for the strong stuff to chase away the slight lingering hangover in her head. Even after what had happened last night, Lena felt nothing but a happy, almost overwhelming sense of anticipation and excitement. This was it, her final interview, the one thing standing between her and her most fervent goal of joining Overwatch.

She wasn't waiting long before the door opened, and her two "randomly selected" interviewers stepped in-Dr. Ziegeler and McCree. Lena gulped down her coffee at the sight of them, both in their official uniforms though McCree was wearing some dusty old cowboy hat and Angela's make-up seemed a bit much for office work. Lena adjusted her cap as they took their seats at the opposite end of the table.

"Uh-so, about last night," Lena began, only for Angela to cut her off with one curtly raised finger.

"Oh, details about your personal life can wait, Ms. Oxton. For now, we have a few questions to ask. Mr McCree, if you'd like to begin?"

Jesse cleared his throat before launching into a series of boilerplate questions, reading off of a sleek tablet. The interview went on for nearly twenty minutes, with Angela and McCree taking turns asking Lena all of the questions she'd expected, and heard before. Why she wanted to join Overwatch, what her weaknesses were, did she have potential liabilities, were there orders she might hesitate to carry out, that sort of thing.

Lena had begun the interview a little nervous once she saw who was conducting it, but by the time things were winding down, she felt her familiar confidence and excitement again. Angela and McCree may have had some strange ideas about coworker fraternization, but at the end of the day, they seemed like what everyone thought they were-competent, intelligent and uniquely skilled professionals.

"So, is there anything else?" Lena asked, as McCree set down his tablet. Angela had simply recited all of her questions from memory, like the perfectly wound Swiss clockwork woman Lena might have thought she was-before last night had revealed a much more primal and human side to her. The pair shared a quick glance, shaking their heads at each other's respective questions before Angela spoke.

"I don't think we have any further questions, Ms. Oxton. And I speak for both of us, and Overwatch as a whole, when we say that we would love to have you…"

Lena nearly jumped out of her chair, taking another sip of coffee to calm her nerves. Angela went on, voice sounding a bit disappointed but also sad, delivering news she'd rather not.

"But we have heard that you have problems working as a team."

McCree piped up. "Self-centered, was the term. Your drive to be the best gets in the way of overall unit performance. Ego-driven instead of driven by cause. That sort of thing. Simply not Overwatch material, really."

Lena nearly spat out her coffee. Panic hit her like a bucket of ice water, and she sat up straighter in her chair, resisting the urge to stand up.

"Wha-but that's simply not true! I can work well with a team, I'm a bloody fantastic team player!"

The pair of them seemed unmoved by her words, simply levelling withering, almost clinical stares at Lena while her heart raced. They both seemed like they'd simply made their minds up, and Angela moved to push back from the desk in her wheeled chair, clearly done here.

"Wa, wait! You have to at least give me a chance to prove myself right? Maybe…like a teamwork exercise or something. Trust falls, capture the flag, any bleeding thing you can think of!"

McCree looked to Angela, who shrugged her shoulders, and waved for him to go ahead. He considered things, making a show of examining his tablet. In reality, he was checking to make sure the room's security cameras which had captured the interview, were suitably encrypted. Wouldn't want anyone getting their hands on this footage.

"Well, maybe we can give you a shot. If you can follow orders, even ones you might not personally agree with. Which I doubt, honestly."

Lena opened her mouth to speak, spittle flecking the corners of her mouth as her panic grew in tandem with a sense of indignation. Before she could do much more than mutter in inarticulate anger, McCree was speaking again, his tone almost perfunctory.

"Just close your eyes. Then lean back in your chair, and look up."

Tracer's brow furrowed in confusion at such simple, basic instructions. But an arch eyebrow from Angela was enough to tell her to hurry up and listen, if she was going to. So Lena closed her eyes, her breathing coming through in quick bursts, nostrils flaring as her emotions ran wild. She leaned back in her chair, hearing footsteps as her head tilted, casting her unseeing gaze up to the ceiling.

Ziiiip! Smack!

"Wha-huh?"

Something hot, heavy and hard slapped into Lena's face, stinging her into opening her eyes. Her brain seemed to almost pause in that moment, eyes wide as Lena was looking at something she didn't quite understand. McCree had laid his fat, uncut, huge cock across her face, casting Lena's delicate features into shadow as her hazel eyes trembled in fear. His cock wasn't even hard yet, but even limp it ran from up her chin to her hair and then with several inches left, hanging over the top of Lena's head, making her feel humiliated as a hung, hairy, man used her face as nothing more than a place to hang his nasty fucking prick.

Lena sputtered, too shocked to move or say anything. Her eyes struggled to look at the totality of McCree's dick, but even as she wasn't sure where to look, at his veiny underside of his tan, thick shaft, or his casually grinning face, or down the wide expanse of that fat knob to see his huge, swarthy, swinging balls beneath, it was simply too much for Lena to process. She'd never so much as seen a penis in her life, and now the biggest, smelliest, fattest bitch breaker that she could ever possibly conceive was resting on her face with enough weight to force her neck to crane back a few more straining inches. It was practically pulsing with a heartbeat of its own, and Lena could feel it getting harder, longer, and thicker by the second, swelling up till it was as big around as a coffee mug, and then it continued to grow.

"So listen, we know you're gay and all, and we saw how well you can play with women..." McCree began,and Angela jumped in to finish his thought. She seemed like she was enjoying this even more than he was.

"Oh yes, I can attest to that, you horny little dyke. But we need to know you can work with men, too. After all, wouldn't want anyone thinking you discriminate, not in a big happy family like we have here at Overwatch!"

Lena shook her head, or as much as she could under the almost oppressive weight of that fat cock. The veins were heavy and thick on her face, their heat seeming to radiate out in almost visible waves. With significant effort, she forced herself to think about something other than McCree's monster cock, her eyes trying to focus on Angela, which wasn't easy when one them was completely covered up by the huge, throbbing member. For some reason, it didn't occur to Lena to simply slide her chair away McCree or otherwise try to get that fat dick off of her dainty face.

"You, you can't treat me like this! Either of you bastards!" She raged, though Lena's furious expression was somewhat undercut by McCree still casually having his fat cock out and resting on her face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Angela sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. She spoke like Lena wasn't even in the room with them.

"Well, that really is too bad. I thought she had potential."

McCree nodded, his dick bouncing lightly on Lena's face, rubbing its weight over her nose and along one cheek even as she fumed up at him.

"I know, and so many people were rooting for her. The others are going to be so disappointed that she failed, especially Ana." He winked at Mercy, knowing they had Tracer exactly where they wanted her.

They were doing it to Lena again, baiting her with the idea of membership, only this time it felt too real, not just a simple hazing tactic. Lena could see her dreams crumbling away right in front of her, and once again her stubbornness got the better of her. It didn't occur to her that some of what McCree and Mercy had been saying, that she prioritized being the best over anything else was not only true, but it was exactly the thing that could get Lena into trouble if she wasn't careful. She had her principles, her beliefs, even her inherent sexuality on one side, but on the other was everything she had been working for.

Much later, Lena would admit to herself that not only did she not regret her decision, she just wished it had happened that first night out with McCree and Angela.

"Oh...ok." Lena finally said, in a small voice.

"Ok, what?" Angela asked, taunting.

Lena swallowed heavily, seeming to come to some kind of agreement with herself. There was a sudden glint in her eyes, an expression not of resignation, but sheer willpower. If she was going to do this, then she was going to do it well, and show these two perverts that they hadn't gotten the better of her, really. So the way she saw it, the best was to respond was not with words, but with actions.

Besides, Lena thought, How hard can it be to get some guy off? Straight guys are simple, they'll orgasm to a fucking commercial if the girl's hot enough! This'll be a piece of fuckin' cake.

Lena opened her mouth wide, pulling her head back as she licked up along the length of McCree's cock. Her nostrils wrinkled a bit at the taste-not unpleasant, completely but powerful and very pungent. His cock had a musky, virile, manly scent that Lena had absolutely no experience with. Still, she refused to be intimidated even as her mind reeled at the thought of what was coming next. Slowly, Lena withdrew her head further, with McCree's dick falling free of her face and bobbing in the air in front of her, swaying pendulously under its own massive weight. Lena still couldn't believe such a thing was real, it looked like the kind of obviously fake manhood one might see in an advertisement for Omnic-based enhancement treatments. McCree's cock had to be at least forty centimeters long, maybe even longer, leaking cloudy droplets of pre-come from the wide, flaring piss slit.

With her mouth open wide, jaw creaking just to match the circumference of McCree's dick, Lena moved her face forward, trying to swallow McCree's massive prick helmet. Her mouth made a lewd glcchk! noise as she struggled to take the impressively large tip in her mouth, drool leaking from the corners of her lips. She had never so much as kissed a man in her life, and now here she was sitting in front of some burly man and trying to do her best to suck his dick and make him come like a common whore. Tears welled up in Lena's eyes, causing the tasteful mascara she'd applied that morning to beginning running down her face in smudged, blotchy streaks.

Angela laughed, her voice high and biting. She was undressing as she moved around the table, looking down at Lena with a mixture of lust and contempt that had never been more apparent than now. Soon, she was completely nude, leaving her clothes strewn about the room and kicking her sensible shoes off as she drew closer to the pair, watching Lena gag on that massive dick.

"Non waterproof makeup, now that's a rookie mistake. But don't you worry Tracer, I can teach you about that. I'll teach you all sorts of things. Here, like this, I've got a lesson for you right now!"

Angela squatted next to Lena, pulling the other woman out of her chair until she was on her knees, ankles pointed in opposite directions, legs splayed as her head slowly bobbed further down on McCree's cock. Lena gagged, cloudy bubbles of spittle spewing forth from the tight seal her lips made around McCree's dick. As Lena gurgled helplessly, sending pleasurable vibrations through McCree's length, Angela wrapped her body around Lena's smaller, more petite form, legs splayed around her trim waist. Lena felt pinned between these two creatures of raw, aggressive lust, not sure which of them was worse at the moment.

"Here, make sure you open nice and wide, like this! It helps if you go nice and fast on a guy's cock, even if you probably can't swallow much of it. I know, you've never done this before, but don't worry by the time we're done with you, you're be a pro at sucking cock, you dirty little slut!"

Angela hissed in Tracer's ear as she grabbed Lena's mouth, slipping her fingers inside and fish hooking her mouth open even wider. With a firm grip on the inside of her mouth, she began shoving Lena's mouth forward, using her face as little more than a masturbatory aid to help get McCree off.

"That's right, make her take this cock, show her how it's done, Angela. If she wants to be a team player, then she's gonna need plenty of-umf-practice." McCree grunted, his pleasure mounting as Angela forced Tracer to swallow more of his fat cock. Soon, there was an obvious bulge in her throat, a fat, bell-shaped imprint showing through Lena's swan-like neck as inch after inch sunk down into Tracer's grasping, squeezing throat.

Oh god-his cock is so fucking thick, it feels like I can't even breathe! And his balls, they smell so nasty, I feel like his dick sweat is rotting my fucking brain! How could any woman ever hope to suck such a disgusting, massive, monster of a cock?!

"Glacch, glacck, glacck!"

McCree reached down with one hand and took a firm hold of Lena's skull, thrusting his hips forward as Angela kept pumping Lena's face further down his dick. Lena had never felt so helpless, forced to try and breathe through her nostrils as this cock pushed her tongue flat along the bottom of her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and then punching beyond, over and over again.

"Fuck she's got a tight fucking throat!" McCree grunted, feeling Lena's tongue wriggle and thrash against the sensitive underside of his cock while she choked with nasty wet glottal noises.

Angela hwakked back in her throat before spitting on Lena's face, a great glob of saliva that glued one of her eyes shut, the lashes tacky and stained. She spat again and again as Lena gagged, her cheeks burning red from shame and lack of oxygen. Soon, Angela was rubbing the spittle all over Lena's face, while the younger woman couldn't help but spit up large gouts of her own saliva and McCree's thick pre-come, soon covering her face in cloudy great bubbles of spit and drool. Her nostrils flared, causing the stuff to froth up on her face as Lena felt herself completely overwhelmed, lost in a humiliating display of dominance and sexual brutality by McCree and Angela, who seemed to care nothing for her comfort or pleasure beyond what she could do to satisfy their own desires.

This went on for what felt like half an hour, or longer, as Angela proceeded to degrade Lena, with McCree seemingly happy to serve as her blunt instrument for now. As he thrust ever deeper into Lena's gullet, Angela ripped at her shirt, exposing Lena's breasts as she undid her bra, snapping the clasp in the process. She slapped and tugged at Lena's sensitive breasts, making the younger woman moan and squeal around McCree's cock even as she retched, body crying out for proper airflow.

"Her nipples are rock hard, Jesse! I think this little rug muncher likes having a big fat cock shoved down her throat!" Angela crowed, reaching down to rub at her own soaking wet twat while molesting Tracer's perky tits. She pinched her nipples in turn, one after the other, making Lena let out a muffled yell around that bitch breaking dick, her thighs slick with arousal and rubbing together as her body responded all on its own. Tracer hated to admit it, but as much as she knew she should hate this, some part of her was coming alive to the rough treatment, the utterly degrading language and abuse, and even something about the way McCree's cock felt in her throat, rough and hard and full of male aggression.

Soon, McCree pulled out, his breath hurried. Angela stood up, undressing McCree even as she spat down at Lena again, getting a fat glob of spittle on her tits.

"Jerk that cock off, slut! Beg for him to come all over your face! You've been a good little cocksucker, and now you've earned your reward just like a good whore."

Lena spoke, her voice thick as strands of drool stuck to her mouth in spaghetti-like strands. She didn't want to listen at first, but if it meant getting done with this degrading ordeal sooner, she'd do it.

"Puh-please, just...give me your come. Come for me, J-Jesse." Lena said, her words somewhat unconvincing yet very earnest in their urgency and pleading. There was a desperation in her eyes, a hunger for something more than just an end to this, that even Lena herself wouldn't have recognized if she could see it. It was that open submission and need, along with Angela jerking McCree's cock with an almost angry frenzy that pushed the American over the edge.

With a grunt, his piss slit dilated, his dick throbbing just before it began to spew a massive load of hot, sticky come all over Lena's face. Her mouth was still open, tongue sticking out seemingly of its own accord and the first few blasts of jizz filled up Lena's mouth. At Angela's insistent command, she gargled the nasty stuff, feeling hot runners of the tacky goo streak down the corners of her mouth. It was a powerful, awful taste, and there was more to come, filling Lena's mouth and then splashing all over her face. Her hair was weighed down by McCree's ball snot, while Angela continued jerking him off in a frenzy.

As Lena choked on the virile sperm, Angela knelt down beside her once more. Her eyes glittered with lust as she brought her face closer to Lena's, putting her deceptively strong hands on the sides of Lena's face.

"Well don't be a greedy little cunt, Tracer. Share some of that yummy stuff with me!"

"Mmph, mpph, mffffbl!" Lena sputtered as Angela embraced her in a lewd, tongue diving, spit swapping kiss, as the older woman practically sucked the spunk right out of Lena's mouth. They were soon snowballing the stuff back and forth, as Lena's body responded automatically, her head tilting forward to return the lewd kiss, taking on a submissive yet eager role as the sordid make out session continued.

As Angela backed off, gulping down some of McCree's stinking, hot sperm, Lena felt Angela clamp one hand over her chin, keeping her mouth shut. With little choice left, Lena began to swallow, feeling the taffy like sperm coat her throat as it slid down. Her neck made exaggerated swallowing motions and loud, heaving sounds, as once she stopped, Lena found she couldn't stop, gulping down nearly five mouthfuls of the heavy, pungent stuff.

Angela continued stroking McCree's dick as she stood up, and when Lena could see properly again, through eyes stingy with tears and coated with jizz and spittle, she goggled at what she saw. Even after having drained what felt like an entire pint's worth of come all over Lena's face, McCree's cock was still hard.

"Well, I'd say it's time to get serious, wouldn't you, Angela?" McCree said, his voice only slightly labored as the gorgeous blonde helped him finish stripping out of his clothes. The pair of them plucked Lena up from the ground, tugging down her pants and pushing her over to the table. As Lena's mind whirled, unable to believe that things were only going to get more debauched, her hips collided with the table as McCree bent her over. At the same time, Angela climbed aboard the table, resting on her back and pulling Lena towards her.

"Wa-wait, what are you doing?" Lena asked, even as Angela grabbed her by her short hair, tugging harshly.

"Well dear, if you're going to be a team player, you can't just play one position. Now, shut up and put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use, hmm?" Angela teased, pulling Lena's face towards her soaking wet pussy. Lena, despite herself, began to eat out Angela with the most enthusiasm she'd shown so far, almost taking a kind of solace even in this lewd situation.

Behind her, McCree was slapping his cock off of her firm, sculpted asscheeks, whistling low to himself.

"For a lezzie, you've got a real nice ass." He said, grinding his dick in between the tight globes of her firm bubble butt. Lena had only an instant to realize what he was planning to do, and by then it was far too late. McCree spat down on his cock, lubing it up as he jerked slowly, getting the rest of Lena's spittle and drool all over the shaft as he pushed insistently at Lena's tight, virgin asshole.

"Mmmph! Mmmmfff!" Lena practically screamed into Mercy's pussy, which only made the blonde take a tighter grip on the back of Lena's skull and grind her face against Angela's dripping pussy.

"That's it, stick out that tongue, you dirty little slut. Lick my ass too, I know you're into that nasty shit, you dirty little whore! We're gonna give your mouth a real workout today bitch, that's right."

Wham!

Even as Lena's tight asshole tried in vain to resist, McCree shoved his cock inside, her body submitting far faster than her mind. Lena had never done anything anal related, and now it felt like someone was driving a baseball bat up her tight little shitpipe, stretching her out with lewd, obscene noises. McCree grunted at how tight she was, tugging back on Lena's arms even as Angela continued to push her head forward. Lena had never felt anything like this before, and her mind felt it was being torn apart, unable to see with her face buried in Angela's crotch, and unable to concentrate on anything but the intense pressure of McCree's dick burying itself in her ass inch by solid inch.

Lena's eyes rolled back in her head as she kept licking and sucking at Angela's pussy, acting on mindless instinct. Angela squeezed her head between her thighs, her free hand groping and squeezing at her own full heaving chest.

"Oh fuck, that's right, just like that you little slut! Eat my fucking pussy and ass, right there right there right there! I'm gonna fucking come!"

Angela shook and jittered on the table, getting off not just on Lena's skilled lips and tongue, but also due to the sheer joy she got from dominating the other woman. Keeping Lena's head tight against her pussy, Angela rode out several more cumulative orgasms, even as Lena's body shook from being fucked up the ass by McCree's fat bitch breaker.

Eventually, Angela slid back, letting Tracer breathe properly for the first time in what felt like a long time. She let out a long, low continuous wail, her mouth in a perfect "O" shape as McCree picked up the pace, slamming his hips against her ass. Her tight abs were soon deformed by the fat cock rampaging into her guts, busting open her asshole so wide Tracer worried it would never close up all the way again. And yet…

My body feels like it's on fire! If that fat cock keeps fucking me up the ass...I'll go crazy!

"Ohhh gawd, holy fucking shit!" Tracer yelled, her hands clenching into weak fists over and over again as McCree kept her arms pulled back. He used every bit of this leverage and the strength in his hirsute, muscled body to keep fucking into Lena's tight grasping asshole.

"Puh, please, please!" Tracer yelled, her eyes rolling back in her head. Just as her mind had undergone a concrete shift earlier, borne out of desperation, now her body was undergoing a transformation of it's own. Her nipples were harder than ever, her entire upper chest red with exertion even as her eyes went cross, Lena's tongue sticking out of her mouth foolishly. If she'd known it was all being caught on digital video for all time, well at that moment, Lena wouldn't have objected a single bit.

"Please what, Tracer? Do you want him to slow down, take it easy on your poor little ass? I'd be careful what you wish for, after all, you've still got one fuckhole left once he's done using up your tight little ass!"

Tracer's head shook from side to side, a maddened look in her eyes and an urgent pleading tone in her voice.

"Please...more! I want...more cock!"

With a final slam, McCree hilted himself in Tracer's ass once more, begining to come deep into Tracer's bowels. With a sick, warbling cry, Tracer came-harder than she ever hard before, her pussy squirting out all over the floor even as her ass clamped down tight on McCree's dick. For several long, sordid minutes he stayed hilted in her shitpipe, draining his balls with an even larger load than before. The tube-like bulge in Tracer's lithe stomach flattened out a bit, as her stomach suddenly felt swollen, expanding like an overstuffed water balloon from the sheer amount of spunk McCree was fucking into her ass.

"Kuh-coming!" Tracer yelled, before her eyes rolled all the way back in her head, showing nothing but delirious, unseeing whites. Angela laughed at the obscene display, and her mocking voice was the last thing Tracer heard before she blacked out, temporarily fucked out of her skull by McCree's fat cock.

When she came to later, Angela was on her knees by the table, and someone had rolled Lena over onto her back. Angela was happily sucking on McCree's cock, able to slide her mouth up and down nearly his entire length before she gagged. That didn't slow her down much though, even as she coughed and hacked on the meaty dick, feeling drool leak down her chin. Her cheeks were hollow as she finally pulled back, her lips coming off of McCree's prick helmet with an audible pop!

Dimly, Lena remembered what Angela had said, about one left. Satisfied that McCree was fully hard again even after shooting two enormous loads, Angela pulled back, giving Jesse an encouraging little slap on the ass.

"Don't keep her waiting now, stud. It's time to make this bitch an official member of the team."

Angela was behind Lena again, wrapping one arm loosely around Lena's head, holding her in place with the crook of her elbow. Lena could only watch with a lurid kind of fascination as Jesse climbed onto the table, squatting above her like some obscene animal. His hairy, muscled form was criss-crossed with scars on his arm and across the tight ridges of muscle on his stomach.

Moving with full authority now, with Angela for once content to lay back and watch, mercifully quiet this time (which Jesse knew was a small miracle in and of itself), McCree grabbed Lena's ankles, pushing her lithe legs back until her knees were practically stuffed into her ears. He rubbed his cock slowly along Lena's dripping pussy lips, the difference in size between her tight pussy and his massive cocktip almost painfully apparent.

"Are you ready, slut? You won't be walking straight for a week after this." Jesse teased, spitting down once more, splattering wetly onto Lena's pussy. She let out a gasp at the crude act, even this light friction making her body tremble in ways Lena had never felt before.

She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes meeting McCree's even as they shook in her head. The words didn't come though, and Lena could only gawp for a few moments. McCree just laughed, his hips slowly beginning their inexorable push.

"Eh, don't care. Ready or not Tracer, here I come!"

Wham!

"Ooo-waaah!" Lena threw her head back as McCree plunged down into her pussy, stretching her open wide, her pussy lips splayed open around the enormous, bicep-thick cock.

She was wrapped so tight around his dick that Lena imagined she could feel every vein on the underside of his shaft, the exact curve of his bellend as it pushed deep into her dripping wet pussy. Nothing she'd felt before had ever made her feel like this, and even before McCree's cock had driven halfway into her pussy, Lena began to shake, coming again, her pussy squirting out in a clear, heavy arc. The juices splattered around Jesse's crotch, filling the room even more thoroughly with the heady, cloying scent of sex.

"Look at this slut, squirting like a dumb little whore. You're not a dyke anymore, are you Lena? If only your past girlfriends could see you now-they'd probably be embarrassed that you turned out to be such a jizz gulping, ass fucking, dick hungry bitch!"

Lena couldn't respond, her mind feeling like it was practically gone at this point. There was a slight pause as McCree's dick bashed against something deep inside her, her vaginal canal horribly stretched out and yet simply not large enough to contain his dick.

He ground against the entrance to her womb for a minute, before he leaned down further, bending Lena's legs back even further. Her entire body quaked as Jesse used all the weight in his muscled frame, outweighing Lena by over forty kilos. There was a nasty, squelching sound, audible all the way through Lena's body, and her stomach bulged out again as Jesse's dick paused, throbbing before suddenly punching forward. Lena let out a high pitched keening yell as Jesse's dick smashed into the back of her womb, with the grasping entrance of her cervix practically sucking onto his cock.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Now that he was in her fully, Jesse didn't bother to take it easy on Lena or give her any time to adjust. In this humiliating, domineering mating press position, he rammed down into Lena's pussy over and over, as she wailed and moaned. Her twat practically frothing up as she creamed around his dick too many times for Lena's poor overtaxed mind to keep up. Jesse's fat swinging balls slapped off of Lena's sensitive pussy lips, and every so often he would simply hilt himself in her cunt,

"I'm fucking coming! Ah gawddd, you fucking bastard! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Harder!"

Lena was completely lost in pleasure and lust, no longer able to deny that she was absolutely loving this. Getting fucked like a pig by some dumb American and his fat, massive cock, a prospect that would have probably made Lena puke before. Now the only thing she was in danger of was shitting out Jesse's spunk for days to come.

Above her, Angela leaned down, sucking on Lena's sensitive tits, her head sandwiched between Lena and Jesse's bodies. The constant stimulation was too much, and Lena's body shook and shuddered with another series of powerful, soul searing orgasms. Lena felt like she was losing IQ points by the second as the powerful, male dominated fuck continued. Her entire body felt spongy and weak, her arms limp at her sides even as her feet dangled above her, shaking uncontrollably like she was having a seizure.

With a series of deep throated, loud grunts, McCree's pace seemed to double, his dick blurring in and out of Lena's pussy. As she wailed and moaned, his cock began to come deep inside her womb, filling her baby bag up like it was nothing more than a trough for his jizz. Lena could feel herself swelling up with sperm again, and her stomach practically sloshed with the stuff as McCree nutted deep inside her. She could hear it too, the wet, heavy noises making it clear just how fully her pussy and womb were getting stuffed full of jizz.

Spllrt! Spllrt! Spllrch!

She didn't feel like Lena Oxton, aka Tracer, piloting prodigy and gold standard lesbian anymore.She was just a three hole fuckslut for the fattest, hardest cock in the world-and the old Lena would have been disgusted by how damn good it felt. Her hands gripped the sides of the table with what little strength she had left, desperately holding on not out of any sense of resolve or strength, but simply because she didn't want to pass out and risk missing even a second of this brutal, pussy pummeling ecstasy.

McCree came inside her for what felt like the better part of ten minutes, and soon jizz was blasting out of her overstuffed cunt with every thrust, as he instructed her to be a "good little slut and take it all!"

"Welcome to Overwatch, slut." Angela said, when he was finally finished. Lena and Jesse panted as Angela drew Lena into another kiss, the taste of left-over come, Jesse's sweaty cock and the nasty flavors of both of Lena's fuckholes coating her tongue. Lena returned the kiss whole heartedly, wrapping one hand in the back of Angela's neck as Jesse took a seat. Happy to watch the pair make out as he caught his breath, he tossed a look up at the corner of the room, where a tiny digital strip was recording everything, and streaming it to one person's tablet at the same time. He threw the distant observer a cocky thumbs-up, before he slowly stood up again, his dick amazingly becoming stiff once more.

"Ready for round four, then sluts?"

The only response Lena and Angela made was a hungry, mewling chorus, as the pair broke their kiss and began crawling across the table to him. Jesse chuckled to himself-even after all his time in Overwatch, he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Three Months Later

Lena walked with a spring in her step through the halls of Overwatch HQ, still flush with satisfaction from the successful mission from the night before. She, Winston and Reyes, along with a number of support staff, had performed a risky extraction of an Italian scientist who was on the verge of a major breakthrough in mind machine interfaces. The rumor had been agents of Talon were looking to abduct him and extort him into working for them, so Overwatch had been sent in, and everything had gone about as smooth as possible. Talon resistance had been present, but Lena had the team in the air and out of Italy before a pitched battle could result.

Now, she was heading to see Amari for her usual after mission debrief, which usually just meant going over the report Reyes had filed as mission leader and asking Lena if everything matched up to her own recollection of events. Lena actually found these little meetings to be quite enjoyable as Ana wasn't some stuffed shirt, despite her old age she was still in the field nearly as often as Lena, and that made the debriefs feel natural, more like a conversation.

And it was better than her medical check-ups with Mercy, which Lena was never going to sure were going to be a quick little procedure or an involved sexual escapade with one of the good Doctor's newest and lewdest sex toys. There were limits even to the younger woman's libido that Mercy simply didn't seem to have.

Lena entered without knocking, knowing Ana hated it when people who were scheduled to be in her office wasted time announcing themselves.

"Ah, Ms. Oxton, good to see you. Please, take a seat."

Lena settled into her chair, eager to hear about the debrief. It went smoothly enough, at first, until Ana looked down at her desk, clearly preparing herself to give bad news.

"Well, as I think you agree, the mission was a success, and you played a large role in that Ms. Oxton. However, it saddens me that I have to be the one to tell you that you are off field duty. You'll still be able to participate in team exercises and nonessential flights-I think our dear Winston has something he wants you to test for him, actually-but no more field missions."

Lena bolted out of her chair, shoes squeaking against the floor.

"What, why?! My performance is nothing but bloody exemplary!"

Ana cleared her throat, fixing Lena with a harsh stare. Her cybernetic eye never blinked, never wavered, and it wasn't the first time she'd used its uncanny nature to cow subordinates into silence.

"It's not your performance, really. I just got ahold of your quarterly medical report. It seems that you're pregnant. Dr. Ziegler confirmed it. Whatever you do is up to you, of course, but so long as you remain pregnant, you're effectively grounded, Tracer."

Tracer couldn't believe what she was hearing, and her face suddenly burned. Salty, hot tears ran down her face, though she kept her breathing as level as she could. Before she could stop herself, Tracer was speaking in a rapid, hyperverbal stream of thought, telling Ana everything that had happened since she'd joined Overwatch-her "final interview" with McCree and Mercy, and the dozens of times one or both of the pair had slept with her since then.

When she was finished, Ana nudged a box of tissues across the desk to Lena. She crossed her eyes as she considered everything Lena had said, before she smiled in a slightly condescending way.

"Oh, I knew that already. I've seen the footage myself, and if you ask me, McCree took it easy on you. Mercy, not so much, but then she never does, the crazy bitch."

Ana said this with a happy gleam in her eye, using the otherwise insulting words as a term of endearment for Angela. Her glibness shocked Lena nearly as much as the news of her pregnancy had.

"You...you knew? But...but why, why didn't you say anything?" Lena asked, her eyes puffy with tears.

Ana glanced at her watch, speaking with the air of someone who'd expected to be finished with their conversation already.

"Oh the final interview is an Overwatch tradition, since shortly after I started. In fact, when McCree joined, I fucked his brains out in the conference room, he's had a thing for brown girls ever since."

Ana sounded downright wistful, even as Lena struggled to wrap her mind around what she was hearing.

"Anyway, Oxton, that's it for now, you are dismissed. My daughter Fareeha is interviewing today to join, and I promised her I'd come Report back to me when you have news about your pregnancy, one way or the other. Maybe you'll be a little more careful in the future-though I guess you never really had to worry about birth control before, right?"

She chuckled as Lena stood up numbly, walking from the room in a daze. Later, she found herself in her room, considering everything that she'd just found out, the news still shaking her to her core like the aftermath of an explosion, the minutes ticking by as she sat on her bed, unmoving. Pregnant, unable to perform missions until she took care of it "one way or the other." The options seemed to bleed together in Lena's mind, too many to consider because she'd never expected to be in this situation in her entire life. But then one thing stuck out at her, something she'd glossed over when she first heard it.

Lena left her room at a sprint, hurrying down to the interview room. She flung the door, knowing what she was going to see, but still shocked despite herself.

Inside, Fareeha Amari, Ana's own daughter, was sandwiched on the conference table, lying between Mercy and Jesse as they fucked the ever-loving shit out of the poor girl. The trio was naked, with Fareeha's dark skinned Egyptian body contrasting lewdly with McCree and Mercy's pale forms. Mercy was wearing a strap-on that she was using to rut up into Fareeha's ass, mercilessly gouging the busty beauty's guts as Jesse slammed into her pussy, his balls smacking off of her gaping pussy lips.

Nearby, seated in a chair against the wall, Ana watched looking positively delighted at the sight of her own daughter getting both of her formerly tight fuckholes cored out. Fareeha was screaming her head off as the pair double fucked her, with Mercy and McCree each egging each other on to rail the sexy little slut harder, each one of them thrusting at an almost blurry pace.

"Ahh fuck, I'm fucking coming, I'm coming, ahhhh!"

Mercy's strap-on seemed to pulse and vibrate on its own, and was just as thick and long as Jesse's own massive cock, and judging by the way Mercy grunted and groaned, it probably had some sort of feedback system built in so Mercy was enjoying this as much as if the cock was part of her body.

"That's it, you little bitch, come around these fucking cocks! I can feel your little ass squeezing me, you're a greedy little whore, aren't you?"

Lena looked on, her face showing that she was finally beginning to realize just where she was and how things worked around her. Ana met her gaze just for a second, her voice dismissive.

"Either join in or get lost, Oxton. I've wasted enough time on you, you knocked-up little slut."

Before, the harsh open derision in Ana's tone would have been too much for Lena to bear, even after everything that had happened in the last few months. But now, she realized exactly what to do, and with a shrug, Lena's last traces of hesitation melted away.

"Come here, you fucking stud. I'm gonna show you my appreciation for you knocking a rotten bastard into my cunt, you hung bastard."

Lena squatted on the floor behind McCree, grabbing a hold of his hairy thighs as he kept bucking forward, practically sawing his fat cock in and out of Fareeha's wet, dripping pussy. Opening wide, Lena began to lick and suck at Jesse's hairy, sweaty asshole, sticking her tongue deep in his bowels as she slurped at the hairy ring of muscle. The hung cowboy groaned above her, his balls growing tight with arousal as the former lesbian ate his asshole out like she was swapping spit with one of her little girlfriends.

The debauchery only continued from there, as Lena had finally realized that some things were more important than the prestige or status of being an Overwatch agent. Like getting her brains fucked out in all the steamy, lewd orgies her gorgeous, oversexed colleagues wanted.

Much later, as Mercy watched and filmed with a tiny hand held camera, Ana and Fareeha were kneeling in front of Jesse. Their eyes were full of hunger and need as Lena squatted nearby, jerking Jesse's fat cock off right in front of their faces.

"Mmmh, feed us your fucking come, Jesse! Don't make me fucking wait!" Ana commanded, drool leaking down her chin.

"Yes, I want it! I want your hot white seed all over my face! Paint me white with your dirty, nasty jizz!"

Lena joined in, her hand a blur on Jesse's cock, practically trying to milk the come out of him like he was a prize-winning horse. Her voice was eager, eyes wild with lust as her other hand reached down between her thighs, frantically frigging her little pussy with three fingers. Her knuckles slapped off of her dripping wet pussy lips as she egged Jesse on, unable to believe this hung, brute American man had fucked a baby right into her cunt-the very thought nearly made her cream herself silly right there and then.

"Come on, luv, you heard these dirty little sluts. Didn't God give you this giant white fucking knob for painting brown sluts? Fuck, I can practically feel the spunk boiling in those big fat balls of yours."

With a grunt, Jesse tilted his head back, his cock throbbing. Ropes of hot, sticky sperm shot out of his face, covering mother and daughter's faces in a nasty mask of off-white ball batter. Fareeha cooed at the taste while Ana eagerly fishhooked her daughter, helping her catch every last drop of Jesse's thick, greasy load. Lena used his cock like a hose, pointing it at Fareeha's face and then Ana's, covering the slutty Egyptian pair in the hot, ultra virile goo.

Eventually, as Jesse's orgasm began to subside, Lena opened her mouth wide, latching onto his cock with obvious hunger. Her cheeks hollowed out as she gulped down the last several shots of Jesse's orgasm, her tongue working frantically against the sensitive underside of his bellend, wanting to get just one more shot of his almost addictive come down her hungry little throat, to the obvious delight of Jesse and the recording Mercy, who laughed at the debauched, humiliating sight of Lena having an eye-rolling orgasm as her face was contorted into an embarrassing, ahegao blowjob face.

Finally, Lena understood what it meant to be part of a team. She'd never felt happier in her life, or had a more true sense of feeling like she belonged exactly where she was and doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing.

The End...