Spread My Spores

he/it, adult, Milan, but you can call me "friend of mold" or "mold friend" || suicidal pervert who should be a chef || tags for filtering in pinned

[mychlapci]

welcome to the kingdom. please be weird about transformers.

minors should not follow me. seriously, this is a transformers birth fetish blog. if you have any age below 18 in your bio i will assume you don't actually mean to interact with a nsfw blog and block.

asks are sometimes closed during the day, but they'll re-open in a few hours.

twitter + bluesky

AO3

tags, for filtering purposes:

#transformátori (general transformers tag) (terrible inside joke)

#valveplug (for the transformers sexy stuff)

#nasty (general sexy stuff)

#texty (for long asks, if you don’t want ’em randomly clogging your dash) + #so much texty (for Very long asks)

#boobdayforever (valveplug tag specifically for talking about robot titties)

#robotitties is for the reblogged art

#omo #unsanitary #wasteplay (for the piss stuff) for more visit @unsanitarystation

mostly standard trigger tags for kinks (like #gore/#robogore #noncon #dubcon #pregnancy mention #birth mention #free use #merformers #incest kink etc. I try to tag but sometimes i miss things. you can always remind me) & #placenta talk #abortion talk #prolapse evening are a few honorary tags.

joke nsfw text is not tagged.

food is not tagged. there will be breakfast pictures.

[mychlapci]

tfa megop

[fairweatheralways]

[mychlapci]

im making love to a bag of sour candy tonight

[freakoutgirl]

how to do things that everyone else seems to do no problem

[mychlapci]

becoming an elden ring streamer and i consistently and confidently refer to morgott as "she" for no apperent reason

[mychlapci]

so turns out this has been done before

[mychlapci]

i used to hate those bug things that cum on you then i went to the dlc and started hitting one on the ground and it didnt fight back and just covered its head and i felt so bad for it that i no longer kill these fellows. same way i dont kill the jars either

[mychlapci]

new god of war game with beautiful women in it

[mrsterlingeverything]

I always wanted to fuck wreck it ralph . I dont have time for that any more Im looking for someplace secluded to lay my eggs

[sergle]

u good?

girl obviously not

[minmos]

i hope tumblr users never stop talking about punk music i think we deserve this

[fishpondfish]

it is impossible to watch a movie. every night i think i want to watch a movie. no movie gets watched. because it's not possible

[mousidy]

and yet they keep making movies with the hopes that one day humanity will discover a way to watch them. it's so inspiring

[mychlapci]

did you see that nurse in china who thinks she might be able to reduce periods to like four times a year. Can you imagine how much easier that'll make sexualising them

i'm not sure how that would make sexualizing periods easier but if you insist....

[mychlapci]

Consider, if you will- writing a birth fic for the FIRST litter of Broodmother Megatron. Swallowing his pride for what must be done, to further their numbers... bedding his first handful of generals, one after another, for DAYS until he's sore, utterly exhausted, but certain the seed of one of them took. Maybe he doesn't even rest, demanding that they continue to breed him even while he slumbers if necessary. They must have more soldiers, and Megatron knows that as a good leader, he must bear as many as possible. Now.

The unsettling, strange new sensation after he's bred of no longer recognizing his frame, undergoing an unwilling transformation. Growing pair after pair of swollen, leaking tits, struggling with the sensation of his sensitive new pouches and nozzles cramped inside and rubbing against his pre-motherhood armor (after his first few litters, he deems it prudent to have his chesplate widened and lined for comfort, especially given that he's now constantly either pregnant, nursing, or both- they are never allowed the luxury of deflating, of being empty).

Feeling the sparklings kick and wriggle in his tank as they grow, and feeling the horrific reminder each time that he must eventually push these creatures out. There is no way out of this other than a screaming, messy, agonizing birth. For the sake of his pride in front of his legions, he would not show it- but he is terrified. Even more so knowing that as a good leader, this is now his fate, his duty- to bear as many soldiers as they need. His frame is but a vessel to win this war. His comfort does not matter. He will gestate as often and as long as possible, suffering all the while, for the Decepticon cause. He will have no choice but to accept the humiliating changes of his frame- they will very soon be his new normal. For a very long, long time.

The birth is hours of white-hot agony. Trusting no one, he locks himself away and suffers through hours, then days of unceasing, filthy labor. Maybe his pelvis is too small with his first litter. He bites his lip derma until the mesh creaks and splits under his teeth, and energon oozes from the wound, as he is forced to agonizingly try and reach past his huge stomach and puffy, spurting nozzles. To yank each small frame out, one by one, his valve torn to pieces. One of them breaches and gets stuck. Alone, unwilling to show weakness, he reaches into his own destroyed valve, his own abused caliper canal, to shift them back into place- there is no one to help him. All without even allowing himself a whimper. Once. Twice. Again and again until eight grubby sets of hands are fondling his body, uncaring of how he voids his tanks over the side of the bed from the pain. Uncaring of the energon and bloodied chunks of internal mesh that continue to gush in sad spurts from his unrecognizable valve. He nearly passes out, but his unwillingly-installed carrier protocols will not allow him. He is a mother now. The first cycle of his new reality has just begun. There is work to be done. They must feed.

Still floating in and out of consciousness, the sparklings fight over his teats. The sensation of them suckling turns his tanks. He feels like a beast. A bovine mechanimal. They paw at his pouches, and gum his achingly sensitive nozzles. It's all he can do to not be sick as he fights off the embarrassment and shame tooth and nail, reduced to nothing more than the six sticky vessels on his chest.

Only mere hours after the first brood- first of many, finishes nursing- they are cleaned and taken by his soldiers to the barracks. Shortly, his protocols and rapidly-refilling teats will force him to feed them again, but something crucial must be done in the meantime. In his private washrack, he struggles not to scream as he washes away the worst of the energon and fluids from the wreckage of his valve. Then, he retreats back to his chambers. He carefully lowers himself to the berth, every synapse of his lower half still on fire, and achingly spreads his legs- valve exposed to the room. He comms one of his generals. He does not have the time or the luxury for days in the medbay, letting his valve heal. The first litter is out. That means another must be on the way as soon as possible. It will be harder to have a more thorough breeding session now that he must nurse, and begin teaching, their new soldiers- so they must take advantage of ANY break possible to ensure Megatron is once again successfully bred.

It is not making love. It is not even pleasurable for him. As one of his generals ruts into him uncaringly, mercilessly fondling his bruised nozzles, he whispers filthy words about Megatron's vulgar new frame. How his body has irrevocably been transformed by birth, shaped into a broodmother. How alluringly fertile his widened hips and aft, deflated post-birth belly, and milky, sagging tits are. His paramour quickly pushes in to the hilt, crying out as he gushes load after load of scalding hot transfluid directly into Megatron's recently vacated gestation chamber. And it hits him then, as he shudders when the spike withdraws- his stud uncaring of Megatron's lack of overload- that this is his new reality. He will never be the same mech he was before he decided the most loyal soldiers would be his own spawn. His life will never be as it was before. He is no longer merely warlord- he is a broodmother.

Before even a hint of traitorous optical fluid can threaten to bead in the corner of his eyes, he is jolted to reality as his general exits, job finished, the doors wooshing shut behind him. Megatron stares up at the ceiling in the dark, alone. He can feel the now lukewarm, cooling transfluid oozing out of his valve. A ping shows up on his HUD- the troops in the barracks are complaining about noise, as the hungry sparklings fuss loudly for their next meal. They require his milk.

Silently, servos shaking a bit from the shooting pain, he gently pushes clumps of the transfluid back into his valve. For the cause, he can not afford to waste a drop, if it means more loyal underlings in the future. He closes his modesty panel and chestplate, wincing as the seams crush and pinch his hypersensitive nozzles. And thus, wasting no further time, he begins shambling his way to the soldier's quarters, attempting to not let his gait show the pain in his loins. He will not show weakness. He will not complain. For the cause, it is a small price to pay. And pay it he must, because as you know- a mother's work is never done.

(Wooahh wa wa woo wa I gotta go violently jerk off now I made myself too horny writing this)

you're so crazy for this. we don't need a fic, we have you and this wonderful ask.

[mychlapci]

What if the ugly woman turned into a rabid dog and killed people who shave their armpits

that works for me

[yandere-angela]

you ever think about how mr beast is real life monokuma

[acerby]

I believe Mr Beast is just itching for the day he can do a real death game. I think he constantly pitches it to his team and they just keep going "not yet, but soon"

[mychlapci]

i can dress like a chud all i want but i'll always be a foid... fuck mu stupid chungus life