-Secret Hydra Base: Location, Unknown

“Ladies, Gentlemen,” the man in the finely-tailored Suit says, his face obscured like the rest of his compatriots. “The world is changing, and we have to change with it. You all knew exactly what you were getting yourselves into when you signed up to join our cause. Hydra has had many heads throughout the ages and many goals, and while there are still those out there who serve a greater purpose, we cannot deny that our purpose is to continue the legacy of Dr. Daniel Whitehall.”
A few soldiers in Hydra gear approach the other six members of the tribunal, each of them producing a briefcase. “With the discovery of the true power of the obelisk, there is only one course of action left for those of us who worked under Whitehall’s tutelage. We must prove to his legacy that we are the true leaders of this new world, or crumble to dust with the ashes of the old one. Is there any among you who does not wish to take the challenge?”
Greg looks down at the briefcase in front of him. The hydra operative’s life flashes before his eyes. He was at the top of his class at the SHIELD academy, but no one ever really listend to the prematurely balding, snaggle-toothed loser. He hardly made it out of the Triskelion when SHIELD fel, thanks to his unique appearance. He had so many ideas, yet the director of SHIELD and the heads of Hydra had all looked him over for his seeming flaws and defects. Did he really have a life worth risking?”
“This is preposterous,” an older woman says. “There are far too many more plans Hydra has that risking our lives for this suicide gambit is utter nonsense.”
“Is it utter nonsense for the members of the higher tribunal to send members off to their glorious mission?” the finely-dressed genrleman says. “Is it nonsense to send a nuclear missile out to New York to eliminate our enemies and protect the world we so love?”
“He’s right,” Greg says. “Hydra is built on risks. Calculated, yes, but risks, to be sure. If we didn’t believe in a world free from the corruption of free thought, a world ruled by the kinds of leaders that it needs to survive in an age of gods and monsters, then what are we even doing here?”
“I think,” says another member of their group, looking over towards the first woman, “that some of the old guard among us don’t have what it takes to live in this new world. With us.”
“An astute observation,” says the man with the impeccable fashion sense. “Well, then, madam. What shall it be?” He nods, and one of the soldiers pulls a gun, placing it to the back of her head. “Are you going to die, seeing if you are among the chosen to lead us? Or are you going to die with your brains splattered all over this wonderful table of ours?”
She closes her eyes and places her thumbs upon the case. “H… Hail Hydra…” she mutters.
“Hail Hydra,” everyone else says, their thumbs going to the cases.
With a click, each of the cases open simultaneously, and resting within them is a small crystal.
“Thanks to SHEILD squabbling with themselves over who should be in charge, we were able to acquire and synthesize this material they call Terrigen. Touch it, and if you are worthy, you will emerge a power strong enough that even the Avengers will have trouble with you. If, that is, you are worthy.”
Greg sighs, his hand hovering over the crystal. “Worthy…” he mutters to himself.
“WEll, ladies, gentlemen,” the finely-dressed man says, “I hope to see you all on the other side, but I have no delusions that we will… Now!” He grabs the crystal, his body tensing up as the calfiying cocoon crawls up along his body. Greg grabs it as well, and so does the woman and everyone else. His body disappears behind a rocky exterior, forming, perhaps from his own flesh? The sensation is unlike anything he had ever felt before, and the cool rock travels up along his arm, over his shoulder and finally covering his head, drowning him in darkness and in solitude.
The darkness encompasses him for longer than he could count, but soon, he feels a sensation much like as if he were in a dream. Soon, Greg was floating, flying high in the darkness, free, yet confined at the same time.
Voices rise up frmo that darkness—the sounds of people arguing and murmuring, and soon, actual words. “He’s stirring. Sir. Are you alright?”
He groans, his eyes fluttering open, through the hard, flaky shell of his cocoon. Soon, Feeling returns to his arms and his legs, and he breaks free, the cocoon crumbling to dust around him. He falls forward, his hands catching him. But when he looks at them, he blinks, tilting his head. That’s not his ring… that’s not his hand.
“Sir, none of the others survived,” one of the soldiers said. “We were worried about you.”
He looks around the table. Sure enough, where there were half a dozen members of Hydra’s elite now rest nothing but the ash of failed inhumans. Greg clears his throat and adjust his—the well-dressed man’s—tie, and says. “S.. So,” that isn’t his voice. “I guess that makes me the leader, then.”
“Yes, well, we still need to figure out what your abilities are, sir, before we can determine if you’re  up for taking on SHIELD, let alone the Avengers.”
“Of course, do you think I forgot my own plans?” he asks, looking over his shoulder, smiling with his perfect white teeth. “Let’s run the gamut of tests. I can’t wait to see what I’m capable of!”

Greg, or what the members of Hydra think is their well-dressed head, looks over all of the charts. His good suit lays folded in the corner as he stands there in his boxers. Not too bad, if he did say so himself. The owner of this body had done well in keeping himself in shape, and now, this form is his. But what does that mean for his inhuman power? Is the power Greg’s, or was it the inhuman awakening of the well-dressed man that caused their minds to swap. He can’t just go on and assume he reached inhuman status just by this happenstance.
Behind him, the doctor who worked on his tests stands there, biting her lip as she waits for his assessment. “Is… everything to your liking, sir?”
“This comparison here… what does it mean?”
“Well, sir…” the doctor says, walking up towards him, trying not to touch his seminude body as she stands at his side and points to the charges. “Here, we have the results of the brain scan before and after the chance. There’s a major shift in it. Almost as if you’re an entirely different person.”
“Alright, well, change is to be expected with the activation of the inhuman genes… what about on the genetic level?”
“That’s the really interesting part. If you look at this, here,” she says, pointing to a set of sequences. “I took this, and then had to take this again just be sure, but look here.”
He narrows his eyes, lifting up the sheet to the light. “There’s a difference here.
“You can tell, huh? It’s miniscule, but as far as I can tell, your body is mutating. To what, I can’t possibly be sure, but what I think is happening is due to your ability, whatever that is.”
“What do you think this mutation means, doctor?”
“Well, I suppose it could mean any number of things, but to me it looks like there’s a state that your body doesn’t like, and that it is trying to revert back to some other state. We’ve seen some things like this when…”
Her voice trails off in his mind. He forms a cracked smile and chuckles, shaking his head.
“And of course, there’s reports of inhumans whose appearance is simply monstrous. But… we can work through this. Whatever is happening to your body, we can overcome with our Hydra technology-” She gasps when he turns around, grabbing her by the mouth. “Oh, that’s quite alright, doctor. I think I know exactly what’s happening here.
A flash of light in his eyes and he feels the shock of transfer. His entire conscious zipping through neurons, crossing over to hers, and vice versa. Soon, the two stumble back. Now, the undressed man looks down over himself, patting over himself and looking to the doctor with wide-eyed confusion. “S… sir?” the well-dressed man says, his inflection different, but the voice decidedly his. “What’s going on? You… you’re me!?”
Greg chuckles, pulling the ponytail out on his new body and flicking his hair back and forth. “Congratulations, doctor. You’ve just been promoted. Enjoy it while the body lasts.”
“B… body swapping… Sir, wait! WE can’t be certain the degeneration is tied to this body. It could be tied to your mind. No matter what form you take, the decomposition could follow you.”
“Well, then… guess that means I need to live my.. I mean your life to the fullest,” he chuckles and turns out the door, entering the password only he knows, which puts the room on full lockdown, closing the doctor in the well-dressed man’s body stuck in there.
Hydra soldiers run up to the doctor, their guns in their hands. “What’s the matter, doctor?”
“I’m afraid the process has compromised his mind. The project is a complete and utter failure. We are to move on with our plans to destroy SHIELD.”
The two Hydra soldiers look at each other. Greg sighs and turns over his shoulder. “What are you two doing? There’s work to be done!”
“T-there are no more heads of Hydra, though.”
Greg rolls the doctor’s eyes and says. “Of course there are. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Since I’m the highest ranking official here, I am now your head. Now go, chop chop. We have SHIELD to find. Tell our teams to sniff them out. I want a small SHIELD team. Find them and tell me where to locate them.”
“M… m’am, what are you going to do?”
“I’ve had a long day,” he says, running a hand through his hair, shuddering as he smells the perfume upon his arm. “I think I’ll take a bath. If that is alright with you, soldiers.”
“R… right… and the previous head?”
He growls, shrugging as he clicks her high heels down the hall. “Dispose of him. He is of no more use to us in his addled state.
The door to the examination room opens up, and the body of the well-dressed man hops up, holding his hands out. “Whoa hey, listen to me!” the doctor gasps. “Thi-this is going to sound strange, but I’m not the doctor, and that… that’s not the Director!”
The two agents look to each other. THough they cannot see each other’s faces, they know what each other are thinking. They then turn back to face their former head, raise their guns, and open fire.
Meanwhile, in the executive bath available at the Hydra base, Greg hums happily as he looks over his choice of soaps. “Oooh, fresh lavender, or exfoliating. Which one, which one… Oooh, I can’t decide!” he says, practically squealing as he cups the beauty products to his now ample chest. “Oooh, I’m going to love being inhuman!”

Bobbi sits at the bar, sipping a drink, dressed up in a denim jacket, a tank top, and a pair of jeans. She blends right in with the truckers and bikers that have their business here, but she always keeps her eye out for anything strange. Licking her lip, she whispers quickly so no one else can see her. “I don’t think the intel is here.
“It was always a rough guess,” Mac says through the communicator. “Guess we’ll have to keep the search fo the Toolbox up instead of chasing this ghost.”
“Yeah, well… wait…”
“What is it…?”
Bobbi stands up, staller than most of the men there, her hand by her beltloop, fingers twitching.
The doctor and two hydra soldiers approach the building, marching with no regard to their safety. “Hydra.”
“You can’t be serius,” Mac says.
Gunfire hits the bar establishment, ricocheting off of the bar. She grabs her gun and pops up, shooting at her assailants.
The gunfight is swift and terrible, with the soldiers aiming to suppress instead of kill. After all, Greg doesn’t want Bobbi injured, not for now…
“Hold on, Bobbi. I’m calling in backup for you. This mission’s gone south.
“Well, hurry up! There’s no telling what these freaks will do!”
Speaking of which, the doctor walks up to one of the fleeing bikers, placing a hand on his shoulder. She gasps and looks around, wide-eyed in fear. That’s when the biker turns around, elbowing one of the Hydra soldiers, grabbing his gun, and firing off at the other one. The soldier goes down, while Bobbi knocks the other one.
The doctor turns and runs, but trips on her high heel. The biker then steps up to her, pointing his gun to her and says. “You stay right there, missy!
The doctor is so confused, screaming and crying, curling up into a hysterical ball. Meanwhile, Bobbi runs up, her icer still in her hand. “Hey… thanks,” she says.
He holds his hand out and says. “Hey, just doing my duty, miss. You a cop?” He holds his hand out, keeping the gun trained on the doctor. “Name’s Greg.”
“Something like that.” She grabs his hand. “Bobbi.”
In a familiar flash, Bobbi blinks, smirking at the confused looking man. “Greg.”
Greg’s eyes widen and he lifts his gun toward her, but Bobbi shoots him right in the chest with her icer, knocking him out cold. She then does the same for the doctor, before standing there, tall and confident, her hand on her hip, letting the wind blow her luxurious blonde locks in the air. OH yes, Bobbi is badass, indeed.”
A black van screeches up to the scene, a door sliding open as SHIELD operatives climb out, preparing to subdue the prisoners. Bobbi climbs on in and clicks in her seatbelt. Safety first for her new, wonderful body.
“M-Mockingbird? What happened?” The driver says.
“Seems the remnants of Hydra just wanted to take me out. Luckily for them, it’ll take more than a few goons to knock me down.”
“Haha, that’s right. Next to the Cavalry, you’re our best agent! Glaad we could get you out of here.”
“Everything okay, Bobbi?” Mac says.
She puts her hand to her ear, pondering exactly what she was going to say to him. “Everything’s A Okay here. Guess this mission was a bust, huh?”
“You said it. But how did Hydra find you?”
“That’s what I”m going to have to find out when I get back to the base.”
“Coulson’s gonna have a lot more to ask of you than that,” Mac says.
“Oh, I’m sure we can handle a little debriefing. We need a place to put those criminals, especially that biker-looking guy. I think he was the plant that made me.”
So, soon, Bobbi is taken to the SHIELD base. There, Jemma gives her a quick look-over and leaves her with a clean bill of health. As she struts down the lhalls, her head held high, she looks over her shoulder to see the prisoners being taken in. The doctor is still babbling like a madwoman about some “damn woman. What the hell!?” and the Biker? Well, he catches eyes with her, and he shouts. “That’s not me! Guys, that’s not me! You ahve to believe me! I’m Bobbi Morse!”
“Yeah, right,” the guard says as they slam the door on her. “And I’m Captain America.”
Greg chuckles, feeling a tingling sensation all over Bobbi’s body. Even if this charade isn’t going to last forever, his dreams are about to finally become true…

Greg wouldn’t be a high-ranking Hydra official if he didn’t know how to make himself blend in, but Bobbi is a beautiful woman, a confident person, indeed. He will ride her with her head held high, her walk powerful and determined. No one asks her any questions, despite her returning from a strange, and perhaps even an unsanctioned mission. Whatever Mockingbird was up to, she got herself in quite a pickle, and now, he gets to enjoy the spoils.
He walks through the halls of the base, his hand on her keycard, swiping through each door of the dormitories, until, finally, one of them clicks. He smirks and quietly pushes it open, stepping into the military-efficient bedroom. It’s sparse-perfect for a super spy. But he has to wonder…
Opening drawer after drawer, he rummages through undergarments and dark-colored outfits. He pauses, though, at a bright pink shirt that reads “Ask me about my feminist agenda.” He looks over his shoulder. There is a closet with shirts all hung up, so why this one?” He picks it up, and underneath, feels around the drawer. With a click, the secret opening gives way, and he pulls out the false bottom, to discover the treasure inside.
Snickering, Greg brings the long, chrome massager. Her fingers rund down along the length of the thing as he bites his lips. He then hops up, making sure the door is locked before he looks over the phallic device once more. This would be so great, but… there must be something else. An idea sparks him, and he feels his hands over her pockets, pulling out her phone. A thumbprint scanner is all that keeps him out. How quaint. He presses it and unlocks the feature. Then, he walks over towards the vanity and sets the phoneup, making sure the camera is pointed right towards the bed. “There… if my little fun is ruined, at least I’ll have humilated.” He flicks his hair back and blows a kiss for the camera. “Who’s the hottest doublecrossing super spy?” he says, making her voice deep and husky. He then finally rolls her denim jacket over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He taps the vibrator at her hip and smirks, moving her fingers up along her waist and hooking fingers under the hem of her top. With a flick of her thumb, the vibrator hums to life. Already, Bobbi’s breath becomes tense as the build up starts to make her feel warm all over. She sliddes her fingers up along the shirt, pulling it up, teasingly slow. She stops just underneath her bra, holding her shirt up with the one hand and running the vibrator over her well-toned abs. What matter of exercise regimen must she have to maintain this body? Well, Greg doesn’t need to care, soon, this one will be thrown away, just like the others. A lifetime’s work of improvement for this very moment.
She leans against the wall, her eyes getting half-lidded as she slides the vibrator up and down along her uncovered stomach. But she lets it slide lower and lower each time, soon having it buzz at the button of her pants and then even lower. “No…” she whispers, closing her eyes. “Later… I need to savor this…”
He never went this slowly in his own body. Whenever the urge hit, he rubbed one out and was done with it. Sexual frustration was something to get rid of, not something to toy with. But in this body, he can understand why some women would make a whole evening out of masturbation. The tingling anticipation all over her body is already something that makes his mind fuzzy. He read once that women can actually more easily induce orgasm in themselves by mental stimulus alone, and really, his imagination of this moment all teh way here might have helped him get in the mood, but… “F… fuck that…” she whispers, lifting the top up over her head, tossing it aside. She walks up to the camera, unbuttoning her pants and letting them down a bit. She sways her hips, licking her lips, and shimmying the pants down her legs, stepping out one leg and then the other. She gets caught in her boots and falls over onto her butt on the bed. She laughs, sighing as she moves her hands down along her body. Dreamily, she traces along her bra, only to move her hands back up to her shoulders, pinching the straps and lowering them down off of herself. She then tugs at the cups, and her breasts spring free. The cool air on those lovely lumps makes her giggle just a bit. Closing her eyes, she traces her fingers back down along her collar and then follows the curve of those tits. Biting her lip, she grips her breasts, letting her fingers roll over the lumps as she arches her back up. Her gasps become audible as those squishy bits mold under her touch, rolling around as she takes great handfuls and plays around with them. Nipples perk up, rubbing up and down along her palms. AFter feeling them, he can’t help but let go, letting the breasts jiggle back into place. His index finger and thumb pinch at each nipple, and Bobbi gasps, letting out a little moan to punctuate that.
He could sit here all day just playing with herself, and the wet warmth that forms between his legs reminds him that is a tantalizing option. But, how long does he actually have with this body? How long bevfore they find out that crazy guy is actually the real Bobbi Morse and that the Hydra doctor is just a biker in the freakout of his life. Perhaps… perhaps there is a way to keep this charade up longer? She sighs and picks herself up, kicking off her boots and stepping out of her pants. She then grabs the phone, making a call. Playtime, once again, would have to wait.

The wait feels like forever as “Bobbi” lays on her bed, one leg crossed over the other. Instead of her usual outfit, she went for the tight shield bodysuit with the black on the outside and white on the stomach and down the legs.
Soon, the call comes out, and Bobbi heads on over towards the briefing room. “Agent Morse,” Coulson says, “I see you’re going for the classic look. Why’s that?”
“Thought I’d try something new for a change, sir. So, what’s the situation.”
“Hydra’s getting desperate, it seems. I can’t tell if these are with Strucker or List, but they're sloppy, inattentive.
“You want me to go and take care of them?” she asks.
“No… you just got back from a mission. Besides, Simmons wanted to talk to you about something. Said it wasn’t urgent or anything, but you might as well see her about it. Best get going now, though. We might need you if things get dicey.”
“Yes sir…” she says, “but I might have some insight on this. I think I could get them to talk when you bring them in.”
As she leaves, she bites her thumb, growling to herself. “Those idiots better not mess this up. I need them for the switch. Oh well, better see what the prestigious Dr. Simmons wants. That little double agent traitor has a lot to make up for, learning all of Hydra’s secrets while she worked there over the summer—the nerve of her. But… well, she’s quite cute, in her own sort of way.
In the med Bay, Jemma Simmons walks right up to Bobbi, playing with a datapad. “Ah, there you are, I… what are you wearing?”
“Oh, this?” she asks, running her hands down her body. “It’s nothing, just a little thing from my early days. I had a thought, you know? What if we weren’t so underground? What if we operated more like the Avengers, being in the limelight? I’ve been in the shadows my entire career. I like it there, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just something romantic about being in the limelight sometimes.”
“Hm… well, we don’t have to do that because we already have the Avengers. Coulson has already figured ways to contact them should we find more Hydra bases for them to take on. But enough about that. I wanted to talk to you about something…”
Bobbi stands behind Jemma as the doctor turns around, bringing up a screen showing off the interrogation rooms. “Both of these individuals you brought in are claiming they're suffering from some sort of identity dissonance. You didn’t experience anything strange out there, did you?”
Bobbi moves her hands up, placing them upon Simmons’ shoulders. “No, but I’m sure a brilliant woman like yourself would be able to find out the truth, sooner or later.”
Simmons spins around, her eyes widening. “A… agent Morse, what are you doing? This is…”
Bobbi leans in, her hand against the wall as she looms over the shorter woman. “It’s what? You’re so tense, Doc. You should learn to relax once in a while.It might help you think clearer.”
“I’m fine, thank you very much. I understand the workings of the human body enough to know when I’m stressed. Now please, would you…”
She trails off as Bobbi brushes a finger under her chin. “And I know enough to know when a girl needs an extra dose of relaxation. Coulson has me off this case, and I find myself with too much free time. Perhaps, if you don’t mind, I can show you how I like to relax.”
“A… Agent Morse, I can’t, I have much too much work to-to.”
Bobbi places her finger upon Jemma’s lips and leans in closer. “Shhh… I’ll be busy busting heads in interrogation once the team gets back. Why don’t I show you some moves so you can get a load off your shoulders?”
Simmons looks over her shoulder, furrowing her brow as she considers it for a moment. With a sigh, she finally says. “Fine, Miss Morse, that seems acceptable, but please, let’s just make this quick.”
“Sure… your place or mine?”
Jemma blushes and stomps out of the room. Bobbi licks her lips and follows her, snickering to herself. Soon enough, Jemma uses her own keycard to get into the room, Bobbi noting which pocket she sticks it in as she heads into the room.
Once inside, though, she turns off all pretense of propriety and immediately pulls off the doctor’s coat, pulling her up closer to herself and opening her mouth a little. “Now, then, doctor, ready to experiment?”
Jemma closes her eyes, letting out a deep breath as she awaits what’s next. She squeaks as Bobbi’s lips press against her own, and she feels the tension explode within her, seizing her body a moment before she finally gasps out, her body relaxing as if it were melting. When Bobbi pulls her lips back, the biologist leans in, trying to make that connection once more. “It… it’s exhilarating…” she notes.
“Isn’t it, though?” Bobbi says.” She reaches up at her neck and starts to pull the zipper down on her bodysuit. “The world is so uptight and prudish. Sure, we’re brilliant minds, but we’re brilliant minds inside these physical vessels, and if we can’t stimulate those vessels from time to time, why have them at all?” She says this, pulling it down far enough to reveal that she’s not wearing a bra. Leaving the outfit unzipped to just above her navel, she stands with her hands upon her hips. “Now, Dr. Simmons, why don’t you show me that you enjoy a bit of experimentation of a more fun sort.”
Jemma gulps and steps forward, placing her hand upon Bobbi’s smooth skin. The larger woman grabs her by the wrist and shoves her hand down underneath the suit and between her legs. “Feel that? That’s how I feel just thinking about doing this with you…” she whispers.

Jemma’s mouth opens as she feels the wet folds between Bobbi’s legs. The doctor shakes her head, unable to wrap her mind around the situation. This charistmatic, strong, and frankly quite fetching woman has such a reaction to her? “T… that’s not possible,” she whispers to herself.
“You sell yourself too short, love,” Bobbi says, leaning in and holding onto the doctor’s cheek. She slips closer, pressing her lips against Jemma’s. The doctor returns the kiss, her whole body shuddering. When Bobbi pulls her lips away, she licks at them and chuckles. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”
“W… well, I admit, I had some curiosity back at the academy, but I was always so b-busy, so my, er experimentations, were always theoretical.
“Well, then,” Bobbi says, pressing her body up against Simmons’s. “What hypothesis are you going to derive from this encounter?”
“I…” Jemma gulps. “I honestl don’t know.”
“Well then, let’s find out the old-fashioned way,” Bobbi says, pulling Jemma down to the bed. The taller woman lays upon the mattress, wrapping her arms around the scientist, becoming the big spoon in their relationship. Such a beautiful girl, Jemma Simmons, yet such a traitor. If only she had stayed with Hydra, perhaps Greg would be more amicable towards her, instead of feeling such disdain. But that doesn’t matter. What mattters now is popping this troublesome woman’s lesbian cherry and then leaving her out to dry. There are much hotter fish in the sea in this base. She’s just a small prize, not the main dish.
Bobbi’s fingers trail up and under Jemma’s shirt, cupping at her breast as she kisses the woman’s neck. “You’re always doing so much for us, Jemma. I never get a chance to personally thank you. Funny, that a biologist doesn’t get to have sex. Isn’t that part of your job, the study of life? What is sex but another part of life?” she brushes her fingers down to Jemma’s navel.
“I… I just… I want…”
“Shh… Jemma, don’t talk, just enjoy,” Bobbi says, kissing ujp along her cheek. Jemma turns toward her with narrowed eyes and open mouth, and Bobbi takes the oppurtunity to lock lips with her once again.
With their tongues embroiled in that ancient dance, Bobbi can slip her hand into Simmons’s pocket with the doctor being none-the-wiser. Of course, at the same time, she slips her other hand down that skirt of hers. A bit of misdirection goes a long way, especially as once her hands slip down under the woman’s underwear, the doctor would not be so keen to think about the keycard that Bobbi removes and slips under the covers for safekeeping.
Jemma instead gasps as the fingers play at her crotch, tickling just above th hood and making her lift her hips up.
Bobbi giggles. “Jemma, you’re quite lewd. Never thought you’d be so hot for this. You’re just full of surprises.
“A…. Ah, so are you, B…. Bobbi.”
She shushes the doctor with another kiss, her fingers teasing between the lips now, playing with her button. This is about as far as she’s going to go with the good doctor.
While she is busy fingering Simmons, Bobbi is also keeping an ear out on the chatter in the halls beyond. It’s a little difficult to make anyting out, with the heavy breathing of the pleased doctor on top of her, but she has to keep things going if she’s going to be ready for her soldiers when they arrive.
“Bobbi…” Jemma whispers, her eyes fluttering. “Your fingers… you’re so good… do… do you…”
“All part of the job, Jem” she says, kissing her cheek. Her fingers curl up, pushing up between the folds. “Got to know the art of seduction, no matter what my target has between their legs.
“I’m… I’m sure Hunter appreciates knowing you’re so skilled,” Jemma says.”
Bobbi freezes. Hunter? Who was that? It was in some file or something about her somewhere, but she can’t quite place it. Is Simmons onto her. Does she know something about Bobbi that she doesn’t. Is she trying to trick her? How is she going to get out of this?
She takes a deep breath, shakes her head, and says. “No more talking, I said. You need to focus on yourself, and not on anything else.” She follows this up, kissing Jemma’s neck, suckling on the skin for a bit.
Soon enough, Jemma cries out, rocking her hips against Bobbi’s fingers. Her whole body shakes in an orgasmic finish, making it the perfect time for Bobbi to try out one of her new techniques. After all, she had been touching this girl for some time now, perhaps, with that influence she can just sort of take her mind and…”
Jemma’s eyes roll back and she slumps over on the bed. Bobbi, meanwhile, snickers as she pulls herself up. “Great, I can knock people out now. Better get this over with inow. Don’t want poor Morse to develop a hunch. I still gotta take this baby on a real spin.” She says, bringing her fingers up. She licks over them and shudders at the taste. “Yes, next I’m going to get that lovely Skye.”
SHe presses her fingers to Jemma’s head, and then Bobbi slumps over, only for Jemma to wake up. THe scientist sits up, reaches into the bed for the discarded keycard, and slips it back into her pocket. She looks at herself in the mirror as she buttons her top back up. “Alright, gents,” she says, happy that her accent still is retained, despite the switch in minds. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
With that, she locks the door and steps out into the hall, SHIELD agents running around as the speaker blares over the intercom “Attention all units. Prepare for large prisoner transfer. We have a dozen Hyrda agents waiting to be be processsed.
“Oh, yes, indeed you do,” Jemma says, a sinister smile as she heads over towards the prison.