Tracer Impification Logs (Patreon)

Username: Professor Winston

Log of August 1st, 2081: As if in celebration of my induction into Overwatch, I have been asked to assist with a young patient. Having survived some sort of chronological displacement, she appears to be unable to remain in a single period in time for more than a few moments. I have several theories that may be applied to "anchor" her to the present. I've been given her files for today, and they make for an interesting read until she arrives in the morning. One Lena Oxton, Age 26. A former British pilot codenamed "Tracer."

August 2nd: Lena is delivered in a shielded metal dome, the only means they have of transporting her without her "slipping" through time again. The subject (Lena) seems melancholy about her situation, though apparently meeting a talking gorilla does her some good. I am nothing if not a change of scenery. After some basic tests, I lend her the television from the lab, and am pleased to note that her condition does not have any negative effect on technology. This opens up several new venues that I think will prove helpful.

August 4th: Science triumphs! I have provided Lena a device that attaches to her chest that I'm tentatively dubbing the "chronal anchor." As noted on my schematic entries from yesterday, the anchor, in short, drains the excess "time" from around Lena and redirects it in a cyclical nature around her rather than through her. The temporal energies eventually burn themselves out while leaving her unscathed. She has even successfully left her dome and made a successful 5 minute trip around the lab. Her spirits seem wildly lifted, even with a few pounds of metal and what she jokingly refers to as a "time bomb" around her neck. I'll see about modifications make it more portable later. For now, she seems content with a run around the track.

I warn her of counting chickens. We're remaining optimistic, but it's best to keep her on the lab to ensure that there are no adverse effects of the anchor or her existing condition. Lena also insists that I start calling her Tracer. "Everyone else does, luv."

August 7th: Tracer has been a colorful guest so far. She asks about my work, shows excessively high spirits compared to her arrival, and shows an admirable sense of curiosity and energy. She tells jokes to fill the silence, as welcome a distraction as it can be. She also asks if I have anything better to eat than what the Overwatch HQ cafeteria offers. I'm proud to say that she wolfed down my homemade meatloaf and asked for thirds. I have to wonder where such a thin woman puts it all.

August 8th: Putting Tracer through a basic checkup, she appears to have gained 5 pounds. This is surprising for her current lifestyle, even if we just introduced her to proper exercise and rich food. What's more alarming is that she appears to have shrunk by two inches. I consider removing the anchor, but Tracer insists that she keep trying to use it. She gives me a big hug when I comply, but I insist that she stay under close observation. I at least insist on lightening the framework of the device. If she continued through such physical changes, it would be best to keep the device adjustable.

August 11th: Tracer is progressing in a similar direction as before. She slowly shrinks, and while her weight has leveled out, her body reshapes itself to accommodate the additional... er, bodyfat. Her hips and chest have grown by several inches, and her face is slightly exaggerated in its features. I suspect this is some kind of runoff from the anchor, but the exact reason escapes me. Perhaps draining her of her excess "time" has gone beyond her condition and is making her revert in age? Her mind remains the same, recalling previous days just fine, and her being younger would not account for an increase in her secondary sex characteristics. I'm going to need to focus on crunching these numbers some more; I've taken up Overwatch on its offer of several research assistants to tend to Tracer's basic needs, but I am sure to visit her personally at least once a day. Tracer remains in high spirits, showing complete faith in me. I don't even think she minds the changes she's gone through in exchange for her more liberated lifestyle thanks to the anchor.

August 14th: Tracer has become something else entirely by now. I suppose that's not really true... she's become an exaggerated version of herself. Her reduced height has made us replace her jumpsuit frequently, to the point where we resort to some advanced style of yellow spandex. It's become her default attire, as it will hug her figure no matter how small or curvy she gets. It's better than finding her swimming in her own clothes when she wakes up each day.

She rarely sits still, content to race around her room, jump on her bed, or play excitedly with a ball. Each time she shrinks, it's rather adorable to see her have to learn how to work with her chubby thighs and shorter legs than she's expecting. Nearly anything seems to excite her, and she laughs hard enough to fall out of her bed if something on tv grabs her just right. One of the lab assistants have pointed out that she's almost like a child wound up on sugar, but I've attempted giving her a healthier diet. Tracer wolfs it down anything, no matter what I give her, and it all seems to continue to go to her hips and breasts. She's gone down to 2 feet, nine inches tall, with hips wider than her shoulders.

The main oddity that's started to arise are her ears. The change was subtle at first, but seemingly overnight, they have grown to... well, elf-like proportions. They extend outward from her skull, each as long as one of my fingers (that's gorilla fingers, mind you) and the backs lined with a fine fur. They appear to be functionally identical, and I think my reverse aging theory is long-since dismissed. She has started refusing to answer to Lena; only Tracer is sure to get her attention.

August 15th; transcript of interview with subject Lena Oxton/Tracer:

W: "Lena."

*subject mutters while looking around the room*

T: "I told the witchdocta, I was in love wit' you..."

W: "Lena."

T: "An' 'e said 'ooh, eee, ooh ah ah-"

W: "Tracer."

T: "Hmm? Oh! Winston! Good ta seeya, luv!"

W: "You too, Tracer. How have you been feeling lately?"

T: "Bloody smashing, guv. Thanks for askin'."

W: "I... don't think you've ever called me that before."

T: "Di'nt I?"

W: "I don't think your accent was always so exaggerated either."

T: "Maybe ya weren't payin' attention."

W: "Maybe so."

*subject begins muttering again

T: "Ooh ahh ahh, ting tang walla walla..."

W: "Have you noticed any changes in yourself lately?"

T: "Oh yea! That sweet lady in the white coat gave me this cracking haircut! You like it?"

W: "It looks good. Did you thank her for that?"

T: "I sure did! An' I gave her a big hug this morning when she came back!"

W: "Is that what that was?"

T: "Well, yea. What'd you call it?"

W: "It looked like you ran up to her and started humping her leg."

T: "I mean, maybe it looked like that..."

W: "You left a wet spot on her leg."

T: "Well, she's right pretty, i'nt she?"

W: "Some could say so. She's not what you'd call 'my type."

T: "Oh yea!? Wots your type then, Winny?"

W: "A healthy coat of fur and good climbing arms."

*subjects proceeds to giggle and fall out of her chair

*subject laughs for another 48 seconds

W: "Are you alright, Tracer?"

T: "Bloody outstanding, Winny. You tell the best jokes!"

W: "Would you like to come up and join the conversation?"

T: "Nah, I'm good down here."

W: "Are you still willing to talk?"

T: "LOVE to!"

W: "How do you feel right now, Tracer?"

*subject remains halfway under the table, feet kicking absentmindedly

T: "Feels great! Bloody amazing. Everythin's warm and bright, and I'm surrounded by pretty ladies and there's lots of time to mess around."

*subject proceeds to start rubbing her privates while under the table, a look resembling euphoria on her face

W: "So you like your life right now? You're not upset with your changes?"

T: "Ears a bit big, but wotcha gonna do? Everybody's got somefin."

W: "Well, I think that's all for now. Were you ready to go back to your room?"

T: "Just a tick."

*subject begins to rub through her leggings faster and rub her thighs together

*subject shakes violently and orgasms beneath the table

T: "Thaaaat's the ticket. Ohh, the cavalry's here! Hoo! Okay! All set, Win!"

Aug 16th: Tracer has been showing an excessive sex drive recently. As suggested in the dialogue in my last entry, she has taken to humping as a sign of affection. She has begun masturbating frequently; after her first few days of using the anchor, she began to do so discreetly under her bedsheets. I felt it was a fine way for her to vent and didn't mention it, but lately she has been steadily increasing. She will rub herself through her suit rather shamelessly, as if she fails to remember that anyone is still observing her. These sessions are almost impossible to interrupt without physically intervening. She ignores subtle cues over the intercom (clearing my throat, asking for her attention). Even the assistants knocking or even entering to change sheets or clean up for her are not only fail to stop her, but she will watch them come and go with wide, pleasant smiles, even in between her rolling eyes or throaty groans. I have clocked her in experiencing over 6 orgasms today.

The one thing that does distract her is food. She gladly gobbles up a whole pizza in quick but tidy bites, not wasting so much as a drop of sauce. She ends up with something of a pot belly, so while she's distracted from both sex and food, I invite her to take a walk. She asks if Emily is around, but I inform her that she only had the morning shift today. Tracer's ears droop, but she accommodated me on taking that walk while we share some garlic bread.

As fascinating as her condition is, she does seem to remain upbeat, and in no particular health risk. Best of all though, my trusty log, Tracer and I took a twenty minute walk around the track today, and she didn't need her anchor!

August 17th: For the utmost clarity on the situation, I am granting temporary access to my logs to my Miss Emily Bell. My trusty lab assistant’s lab assistance has made caring for and studying Tracer that much easier, and I trust her integrity and enthusiasm to provide insight into today's events.

[New User access; Authorized OW Medical Technician Emily Bell]

I have been helping with Tracer for several days, and I will admit, she is a pleasure to work with. It reminds me of my work with the Overwatch K-9 Unit last year, but with far better feedback and even cuter. With the director's (Mr. Winston's) approval, I have engaged Tracer in casual conversation and kept her company during some of my shifts. I've grown fairly attached, and really hope she makes it through her treatment. Thankfully, she's showing increasingly good odds to do so.

Today, on the 17th of August, I was... surprised by Tracer. As the notes suggest, she has been prone to hugging and grinding on me during some of my visits. Clearly a mixed show of affection and attraction by the pint-sized pilot. Today, she was sitting in her bed rubbing her legs together. It's something I've seen her do a few times, and with the size of her thighs, I've no doubt it's some kind of discrete masturbation. She still greets me as usual (“The cavalry’s here!”), but doesn’t stop her activity.

Professor Winston has shown some concern with it, so from woman to woman, I sit with her and ask what she's up to. I was surprised when she said "Thinkin' about you, luv." She leans into me, praising and flattering me so boldly that I'm rather taken aback. Everything from "what lovely red hair" to a "big juicy bum." Somewhere in all that, she climbs up onto my lap, and somewhere after that, she kissed me. While uninvited, I wouldn't say it was unwelcome. Her plump little breasts pushed against me between my lab coat and I could feel her nipples already erect (she had requested to wear her anchor less and less when she's already safe inside her quarters). I like to think that Tracer was always especially affectionate to me, but she was just plain aroused this time. If I'd had the heart to pull her off, I certainly didn't want to.

I also like to think that if I were advised to stop by the observation team, I would have. Instead I let my hands explore her more intimately than any mere physical examination. I cupped her oddly large ass, and Tracer reacted intensely as she leaned further into the kiss. I held myself against her, squeezing her ass until I found my hands pulling down her spandex and stroking her hair. Her little hands quickly get to work on fondling my chest in return.

There is a kind of animal magnetism about the woman. Her sweet and cheery outlook is charming, but her openness about her sexuality and what she does and doesn't like is refreshing after growing up in a rather conservative family. With every move she makes, there is a delighted squeak or a desperate grunt to show her enthusiasm.

When she lifted up my shirt, her mouth went immediately to one of my nipples and sucked on it ravenously. It was unlike a child, because her mouth is bigger and stronger than her height would suggest. Tracer ravished my breasts with her mouth and hands so intensely that I could only think to encourage her. Her bottoms down (no underwear, as a habit), I spanked her lightly, but her plump ass jiggled wildly despite the fairly minor touch. Tracer responded with the expected moan as she leaned into my chest, the horny and secluded girl seeming desperate for any kind of physical attention.

I decided to help her as I dipped my fingers between her legs, rubbing her pussy from behind. Her mouth hung open so she could only manage to lick my nipple, but I could feel the cold air and gentle sting from where she'd bit and sucked on my breasts. Her long ears folded back like a sheepish dog as she plants light kisses over my sensitive chest and hard nipples, drooling over herself from both of her dripping openings.

At first I imagine that Tracer will sit and remain compliant until I can help her relieve herself, then I could go and finish myself. Maintain some professionalism. Instead, the impish girl suddenly pushed me over onto my back. She turned speedily around to face my legs and pulled down my skirt and panties in a few quick gestures. I couldn't see what she was up to past her own big, wiggling hips, but I could certainly feel it. Her lips and tongue buried into my privates, ears wiggling as she gave these delighted little hums like she was eating a particularly sweet piece of meat. Which I suppose she was...

I was left frozen with pleasure, but it gave me time to admire her body rather than study it. She really is a remarkable woman, no matter what form she was in, and her sexuality seems that much more focused in this shape. The thickness around her thighs and hips add more focus and detail to her privates, and I could see her dripping snatch and puckered arse when she bent over farther to dig deeper inside me. I certainly couldn't voice these thoughts, since I was far too busy screaming with pleasure. Her tongue was long and delicate, and seemed to know just how to dance around a clit and simply please a woman. It's as if she's built for it.

I decided to reward her by sliding my fingers into her blossoming privates. I enjoy her extra moans and overwhelmed curses that she drops, especially when I find her delicate little clitoris. I could feel it swell against my pumping fingers, smooth and soft like the rest of her body. I'll admit that while I was caressing her buttocks, I was tempted to rub between her round cheeks at the tensing little hole. Before I could get to that, she had crawled back down past my legs.

She pulled off her top, revealing her beautiful breasts. They were modest in size, but big for her build. I would say they were C-cups, with a slight and cute upturn just before the areolas that leave her nipples pointed expectantly upward. Tracer giggled playfully when she sees me admiring them, taking my hands and pulling them into them. Tracer seems to refuse to sit still; and even as she basked in my rubbing and pinching of her smaller breasts, she squirmed and caressed my chest and face in return, baiting me to continue.

She finally wrapped her stubby, chubby legs over my thighs. I imagined it was going to be another of her grinding hugs, but I could not have been prepared for what came next. It was something of dreamy-eyed praise to say that Tracer seemed built for pleasing a woman, but she showed me just where all the speed and energy in her short limbs came from. She thrusted her pussy into mine with such sudden strength and precision that I had to scream in surprise, as it took my privates a moment to settle from the practical shockwave of pleasure to sink in. She waited a moment for me to calm down and nod, all I can do to urge her to continue at the moment. Her strong legs and thick hips provide incredible weight and strength as she humps crotch to crotch with me, sending vibrations all the way through my hips with the impact of each thrust.

Tracer spent what I later found out was half an hour pleasuring me. I'd hear thick wet noises from her pelvis, and she made these loud, passionate cries of her own, but if she orgasms, then it doesn't affect her performance. Her little hands gripped and groped me while her strong, thick legs ground her clit into my larger one. She even overpowered my bigger body to roll me onto my side, holding up a leg while she scissored even deeper into me. I vaguely remember realizing I was in that position after I felt my drool building on the sheets, and seeing the ridiculous, fucked silly look on my face in the glass of one of the observation windows before I had the absolute biggest orgasm of my life. Perhaps it was the shame of being used by the short woman, or the penetrating impacts of her thrusting, or just not having a date in too long, but it all piles up into this incredible outburst of all that built up sexuality. I lay there caked in sweat as my tender pussy feels a strong but small stream coming from Tracer's crotch into mine. The scientist in me would wonder what it was, but I was far too... well, right and properly fucked to think about whether she was having one intense little orgasm, or if she was following some impish instinct and pissing on me to mark me as hers.

We took several minutes before she pulled back, tenderly licking my thighs and crotch clean again (or as clean as one can get from saliva). She climbs up onto my belly with her dripping wet crotch, leaving a trail over my lower body as she kisses me. I don't even care that it tastes like my freshly cummed out crotch, kissing her back and holding her there for what felt like and what I wanted to be forever.

I eventually left when her dinner time started to roll around to head for a shower. She followed my every step, like she was joined at my hip, but I assured her I would be back for her soon. "F'you say so, Em!" Tracer said brightly, hugging me around the thighs. "Love ya, beautiful!"

It's as bright and blunt as everything she says, and I couldn't help but take it to heart. "I love you too, Tracer. See you soon," I replied. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since... even after Professor Winston asked to do some blood tests to ensure that I wasn’t exposed to anything.

Username: Professor Winston

August 18th: Hrm. As I said. Enlightening.

The fact is that both are showing a clean bill of health. No exposure to chronological energies on Emily, and no unusual bacteria or mutagens in either of them. Tracer's condition not only appears to be non-contagious and harmless, but it appears to be a side affect of her initial problem (temporal instability) being resolved. The exact cause still eludes me, but it's my professional and official opinion that Miss Oxton is free to leave her facility, so long as she keeps her anchor within reach or on her person at all times. It appears to be just in time too: at the end of the day, Emily has asked if it was acceptable for the staff to date any of the lab's patients. I give her the good news to pass on to Tracer tomorrow.

August 19th: 

I'll continue running research on the matter, but it seems that Tracer has stabilized. She's manageable, if strange, but seems intensely happy and healthy with her new form and her relationship with Emily. She’s officially free to leave the base as she pleases, so long as they check back in with me or the Overwatch technicians now and then. I'll be having to place the research on Tracer on the backburner soon anyway. She’s capable of taking care of herself, but my expertise in theoretical physics is being called upon for another member/matter. It seems that one of the agents called "Dva" had a close call when her mech exploded, exposing her to some unspecified radiation. Dr. Ziegler tells me that Dva should be perfectly safe now, but that she's been showing unusually... "impish" traits.