Her Reality 1

Symmetra sat, cross-legged, in the precise centre of her bed. The hotel room the Vishkar Corporation had booked for her was very nice. Very neat. Symmetra could picture every detail of it, even with her eyes closed. Vishkar knew her needs, and with their riches China was no different to anywhere else. In here, anyway. Down on the streets it was so busy, so disorganised. It reminded her of home, and not in a good way. She preferred to remain in her hotel room, her private sanctuary, where she could concentrate on her designs.

A knock at the door disturbed Symmetra's thoughts. Her mouth tightened into a thin frown. She hated interruptions, and she had left very precise instructions with the hotel staff. There should not have been any maid service. Symmetra stood up, and crossed the floor to the door. She looked through the peephole, and found herself staring right at Lena Oxton - Tracer - still dressed in her pilot's jumpsuit.

"Can I come in?" Tracer chirped, the moment Symmetra opened the door. Symmetra took a step back from the doorway, and Tracer rushed in. "Cheers love. Cor, nice place! Vishkar takes care of you, eh?"

"Can I help you?" Symmetra asked, tiredly. She always found the young, excitable British girl so draining to be around. They had been brought together on a mission, to repel a Talon attack on Lijang Tower. A rare alignment between Vishkar's interests and Overwatch's. Tracer had been far from professional. Her ceaseless energy and relentless cheerfulness got on Symmetra's nerves.

"Just here for a chat, love."

"A... chat?"

"That's right." Tracer skipped over to a chair, and dragged it next to the bed. Symmetra's jaw twitched in annoyance. "I just wanted to talk to you. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"I was working." Symmetra sat back down on the double-bed.

"Working?" Tracer peered around the room. "I don't see any-"

"In my head." Symmetra tapped her forehead, hoping the foolish girl would get the message. "I don't need paper. I design things in my head. I'm an architect."

"That's amazing!" Tracer leaned forward, seeming genuinely enthused. "You mean, like, buildings and stuff? Wow!"

"What," Symmetra insisted, "Did you want to chat about?"

"Er... you." Tracer looked a bit bashful. "I wanted to get to know you. That's all."

"Why?" Symmetra demanded.

"Why?" Tracer seemed taken aback by Symmetra's bluntness. But Symmetra wasn't one for tact. "Well, because... I thought you might be lonely. Me and Winston and Mercy, we all went out for drink after the mission. But you didn't want to come. That seemed a bit sad, I guess."

"Hmm?" This was a surprise. Symmetra had no interest in filling her body with liquor at some Chinese dive bar. And she had no interest in making friends with Tracer. "No. Please leave."

"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere. Not until we have a nice little chat. I really want to get to know you." Symmetra's patience reached its end, and she tried to grab Tracer by the arm so she could drag her out. But that strange device on Tracer's chest came to life with a blue glow, and Tracer teleported across the room, out of Symmetra's reach. "And believe me, I can be really, really annoying if I want to be. Just ask Winston."

"Fine." Symmetra sighed. It was clear that just talking to this girl was the quickest way to get her out of her hair. "We'll chat. But please, move that chair back over there."

"Sorry?" Tracer was nonplussed.

"The chair. Please put it back where you found it." Tracer just stared at her. "This is my room. I need it to be just how I want it. I can't relax until you put that chair back in its place."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Tracer hurriedly replaced the chair. Symmetra was glad of that, but she was less glad when Tracer sat down next to her, on the bed. There were a few moments of awkward silence, until Symmetra beckoned for Tracer to proceed with her conversation.

"Erm... where are you from?"

"Hyderabad. India," Symmetra answered brusquely. "And you?"

"London, of course!" Tracer grasped around for another question. "Hey, can I call you Satya?"

"I suppose." Symmetra sighed. "Look, Tracer."

"Call me Lena," Tracer interrupted.

"Lena. I don't know what you want from me, but you're not going to get it. I'm just not good at all this."

"Don't be silly!" Tracer leaned into Symmetra. "I really, really want to get to know you! I want to be friends!"

"Oh," was all Symmetra felt able to say. Tracer's enthusiasm was hard to face down. "Fine. Ask away."

"How... how's your family?" It was painfully obvious to Symmetra that Tracer didn't really know what to say.

"I don't know. I grew up alone, in the slums. Until Vishkar found me." It annoyed Symmetra, the way Tracer's expression contorted into pity. Symmetra felt no sadness for whatever she had lost. How could she?

"Satya, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Symmetra's heart skipped a beat when she saw that Tracer had tears in her eyes.

"Thank you," Symmetra said, grateful despite herself.

"Have you got many friends?" Tracer asked, when she had recovered her composure. "Back in India?"

"I know some people, back at Vishkar's headquarters. Some of them are quite adequate."

"Okay, no friends," Tracer murmured, more to herself than to Symmetra. "Do you have, maybe, a boyfriend?"

"No."

"A girlfriend, then?" Strange. To Symmetra, Tracer looked almost hopeful. But then, she wasn't good with people.

"No. Nothing."

"Aww, I'm sorry love. But you'll find another one soon, I'm sure. You're really pretty!"

"I'm..." Symmetra didn't know what to say to that. She was pretty? Symmetra didn't know how people could be pretty. She knew how buildings could be pretty. They could match her designs, with their perfect angles and dimensions. Humans were so... imperfect. "You misunderstand. There can't be any 'another one.' I've never had one."

"You've never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend?" Tracer's eyes widened, astonished.

"No."

"So..." All of sudden, Tracer looked mischievous. This girl was as changeable as the wind. "Does that mean you've never..."

"Never what?"

"You know. Done it."

"Done what? Oh..." Really, Tracer could be so foolish with her words. "Yes. I have. Just once."

"Blimey!" Tracer's eyes were wide. She seemed very, very interested. Symmetra couldn't fathom why. "How did that go? If you, er, don't mind my asking."

"It was a couple of years ago now." Symmetra didn't mind. She didn't understand why people got so fussy about intercourse. It was a simple biological function. "It came to my attention that having sex was something expected of an adult. I became curious. I sought out a young man who was willing. It was not an experience I am eager to repeat."

"Ah, well, that's men for you." Tracer patted Symmetra on the arm sympathetically. "But aren't you... curious? About what it could be like, I mean. If it was good."

"No, I am not. Other people engage in sex because of their biological urges. I am not like that. I am different. Sex is messy and uncomfortable and awkward, and I have no interest in it."

Symmetra was being completely truthful. She had never felt any the feelings that people boasted about in pop songs. She had long since resigned herself to being fundamentally different to other people. Sex was just one of those differences. One of those things about ordinary people Symmetra just couldn't understand. Just like she couldn't understand the way Tracer was looking at her now. The British girl had curiosity in her face, but also something else as well. Something Symmetra couldn't read.

"It doesn't have to be, you know." Tracer began, slowly. "It can be good. Sod that, it can be amazing. Believe me, I know."

"Trace- Lena." Symmetra wasn't so ignorant she couldn't tell what was coming. "Are you offering to have sex with me?"

"Er... yeah, I suppose so." Tracer blushed and giggled. "Crikey, love, you don't beat about the bush, do you?"

"No." Symmetra had no idea what that meant. Some British idiom, no doubt. But there were many, many more thoughts than that running through her head. Questions, too. She hardly knew where to start. "But don't you... I remember you saying something to Winston. You have someone, back in England. Emily, I think."

"Emily?" Tracer just smiled at her. "Don't worry. We've got a pretty... flexible arrangement."

"I see." Symmetra was still burning with questions. She thought for a moment. One question dominated the others. "Why? Why do you want to have sex with me? What's in it for you?"

"Are you joking, love?" Tracer laughed. "Just look at yourself."

"What?" Symmetra looked down at herself. She wasn't sure what she was meant to see. She was dressed in her usual outfit - a long, form-fitting cyan robe, falling down between her legs and leaving her thighs exposed. What was strange about that? She had the same dark skin as always, the same long hair, the same cybernetic arm. She looked at Tracer quizzically.

"Love." Tracer rolled her eyes. "You're bloody gorgeous."

"Is... that right?" Symmetra was embarrassed to feel herself blushing fiercely. She looked down. Was she? Symmetra had no idea.

"Do you want to have sex with me?" Tracer asked. She sprung up from her seat and struck a pose, turning her back to Symmetra and extending her athletic legs. She stared at the wall for a moment, then turned her head around and winked at Symmetra. "Not to boast, but I'm pretty confident in myself. But hey, if you don't swing that way..."

"It's not that," Symmetra said, rather quicker than she had intended. She had to admit to herself, Tracer was beautiful. The girl's tight jumpsuit magnificently emphasised the pleasing curves and lines of her legs and her backside. Even earlier, on the mission, Symmetra had found her gaze often drawn to her. She had told herself it was nothing more than an architect's disinterested, aesthetic appreciation. But what if... "No, no, it wouldn't work." Symmetra took a deep breathe, to calm herself. She had to think rationally about this. "Lena, I appreciate what you are trying to do. But it isn't going to work. I cannot do this. I don't think I can handle us, crawling over each other, poking at each other. I'm sorry. I'm... not built for it."

"Oh. Right." Tracer flopped back onto the bed, deflated. Symmetra felt guilty, seeing how disheartened the girl was, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. An awkward silence fell over them, lasting what felt like a long time. But then, without warning, Tracer perked up and leapt to her feet. "But what if it doesn't have to be like that?"

"What do you mean?" Symmetra's eyes narrowed.

"Have you ever heard of bondage?" When Symmetra looked nonplussed, Tracer cast about the room, and eyes landed on the chair she had reacher for earlier. "Let me show you." She reached for the chair, but paused once she remembered Symmetra's earlier reaction. "Is it OK if I move this?"

"Yes." Symmetra nodded. She was prepared, now, for the order of the room to be disrupted. Besides, despite herself she was curious to see what Tracer had in mind for her.

"Thank you," Tracer replied, with a certain solemnity. She pulled the chair into the middle of the room, so it was directly facing Symmetra, still sat on the bed. Tracer at down in the chair, folded her hands neatly in her lap, and looked at Symmetra expectantly.

"What happens now?" Symmetra asked, when she realised Tracer was waiting for her to do something.

"Now," Tracer replied, a cheeky look in her eye. "You can do whatever you want to me. Or you can tell me to do it, if you want."

"I don't think I understand," Symmetra said, but she was starting to.

"You're an architect, right?" Tracer wore a look of intense satisfaction. She leaned back, presenting her body Symmetra's gaze. "Treat me like one of your designs."

With that, something deep inside of Symmetra came alive. Possibilities danced before her mind's eye, and she could hardly make sense of them. She felt dizzy. "I... don't know where to begin."

"You could start by telling me to take my kit off." Tracer flashed another cheeky smile. Symmetra was starting to like that expression.

"Yes," Symmetra breathed.

"No." Tracer shook her head, remaining coy. "Not like that. You need to say it. Order me."

All of a sudden, Symmetra found herself breathing hard. She tried to relax, but couldn't. This was all too fast. Her first instinct was to tell Tracer to leave, so she could regroup and ruminate. But she couldn't bear the thought of saying 'no' to what was in front of her. So she summoned up her courage, and said: "Take your clothes off."

"Yes, Satya," Tracer intoned, and the words send a strange chill across Symmetra's body.

Tracer stood up slowly. She started off by slipping off her thick, brown gloves. She let each one drop to the floor, forgotten. Next, she loosened the straps keeping her chronal accelerator in place, and carefully set the device down on the floor. Each of her movements was slow, deliberate and seductive. Symmetra felt herself leaning forward for a closer look, and gulped when Tracer winked at her. Next, Tracer unfastened her bomber jacket and pulled her arms out of it, one at a time. Now, she was dressed only in her jumpsuit. She looked practically naked already. The British girl took hold of the zipper in one hand and, inch by inch, unzipped herself. Symmetra tried, and failed, to control her audible panting. Once the jumpsuit was completely undone, Tracer paused and looked at Symmetra. How could this girl tease her like this? Symmetra wanted to grab her, to pull the jumpsuit off with her own two hands - but she didn't need to. Still seated, Tracer slipped her arms out of the jumpsuit and let it fall onto the chair, so that only her lower half was still covered. Symmetra drank in the sight of the Overwatch hero, arms and navel fully exposed, and her breasts covered only with a lace bra. Symmetra gulped again.

"Is this enough, Satya?" Tracer asked, provocatively. Her voice was music.

"No," Symmetra whispered quickly.

"What's that love?" Tracer mockingly turned her head and cupped one hand around her ear.

"No," Symmetra said, more forcefully this time. Her voice came more commanding than she had expected. "Take that off. Take it all off."

"Yes, Satya." Symmetra was drawn to the unexpected submissiveness in Tracer's voice.

The British girl rose to her feet, taking the time to make sure Symmetra was looking over her whole body. Reaching down, Tracer peeled off her jumpsuit, exposing her smooth, exquisitely-formed legs inch by inch. Once she was done Tracer was left with nothing but her bra and panties on, and Symmetra's eyes were starting to water from the staring. Tracer paused, just long enough make Symmetra ache with longing, and then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. She let it fall to the ground, just like the jumpsuit, exposing her small but pert breasts. Immediately, Symmetra's gaze fixed on Tracer's dark nipples, hardening from the cool air. Tracer smirked, but the performance did end there. Bending at the waist, Tracer slipped off her panties and casually flicked them over to the far side of the room. Finally divested of all her garments, Tracer faced Symmetra directly on, quite unconcerned for her nakedness, and let the Indian woman inspect her all over. Tracer then deliberately turned around 360', making sure Symmetra could see every part of her. After that, she sank back into the chair.

"What next?" Tracer said, simply.

"I..." Symmetra's mouth was dry. "I don't know. What does come next?"

"Well." Tracer smiled, eagerly. "I think next, you should tie me up."

"With what? I don't have anything to tie you up with."

Tracer just laughed. "I thought you could make just about anything with that fancy hand of yours."

Symmetra realised Tracer was right. With a single thought, she projected energy out of the emitter built into her cybernetic hand. It took little effort for her to arrange the light-energy into several, intertwining strands. Symmetra cut off the flow of energy, and allowed the white rope to take solid form. She tested it in her hands. It was light, soft and elastic, but she knew it would not break and it could be as long as she needed it to be. She looked at Tracer. She imagined all the things she could do to her with the rope. Dozens of beautiful designs, each more intricate than the last, took shape in her mind's eye. Tracer squirmed slightly, almost as if she could sense Symmetra's thoughts.

"Do you need me to show you how to do the knots, love?" she offered.

"No," Symmetra answered curtly. She did not need any help bringing her designs into reality.

Symmetra lent over Tracer. She slipped one end of the rope over one of Tracer's shoulders, and then around her torso, knotting it several times as she did so. Then, she looped it over the other shoulder, so that the rope criss-crossed between Tracer's breasts. Symmetra pulled the ropes tight, just a little bit. Tracer moaned softly as she did so. Symmetra glanced up at the girl's face, and saw her cheeks red with arousal. It was only then that she became aware that her hands were shaking, and that a wet, warm heat was emanating from between her thighs. Symmetra took one of the free ends of the rope and wrapped it all the way along Tracer's left arm and back, securing Tracer's wrist to the armrest of the chair. Next, the rope passed behind Tracers neck, so Symmetra could repeat the same pattern on the other arm. Once she had done so, Tracer's whole upper body was encased in rope and firmly attached to the chair. But she was not finished yet. Taking the other free end of the rope, Symmetra tried up the British girl's legs and secured her ankles to the chair. The final flourish was to bring the ends of the rope back together and tie them to each other around Tracer's neck, like a collar.

Symmetra took a step back, and inspected her handiwork. The sight of Tracer tied up like that was breathtaking. Tracer strained herself against the bindings, testing their strength. Symmetra felt light-headed. The way the girl's toned muscles tensed uselessly and then relaxed into surrender made Symmetra's breathing come fast. She had never seen anything like the way the knots in the rope pressed into Tracer's skin, creating little, white depressions at regular intervals. It was incredible. It was so different to the hard, unyielding materials Symmetra was used to working with. She wanted to try so, so many things.

"It is not too tight? You can breathe well?"

"It's perfect," Tracer breathed.

"I know." Symmetra licked her lips. Excitement was burning her up inside. "What next?"

"That's up to you, love." Tracer tittered, a little nervously. "I'm all yours now." When Symmetra hesitated, she added, "Touch me."

Symmetra bent over her captive plaything. It was intoxicating to think that she could do anything she wanted, touch Tracer anywhere she wanted, and girl couldn't lift a finger to stop her. It was more than intoxicating - it was freeing. There wouldn't be any of that awful, messy, disordered writhing and clawing. She was in control now. Everything would proceed at her pace, according to her design. And she could start wherever she wanted. Cautiously, Symmetra reached down and, very gently, touched her fingertips to Tracer's thigh. Tracer twitched at the contact, and inhaled audibly. To Symmetra, her reaction was exquisite. Encouraged, Symmetra pressed her fingernails into Tracer's skin and dragged them the length of the girl's thigh, tracing white lines in her flesh. Symmetra watched as the lines she had made faded. Beautiful.

"Yes," Tracer whispered. "Like that."

"How about... like this?" Symmetra moved upwards, her fingers dancing from Tracer's side, across her midriff and up between her breasts. Then, feeling bolder, she wrapped her hand around one of Tracer's breasts and stroked it with her thumb, skirting just around her areola. Tracer whimpered softly. Symmetra purred. That was just the reaction she had been looking for. Tracer - this exquisite creature, totally within her power - was so delightfully responsive.