For sure! Enjoy!
Chubformers drabble #323!
Characters: Airalbots/Superion (G1)
Word count: 1.3k
Devastator wasn’t the only combiner struggling to keep himself running with components that were as good as nothing at their newfound sizes, but in Superion’s case, the Aerialbots weren’t the only ones to blame.
It was mental gymnastics trying to shut out every voice ringing together inside of him, and in his combined form, he didn’t know what to do. Things were different all of a sudden—he felt bigger, heavier, weaker… and Primus, he felt lazier.
Their actions as a whole had consequences in the long run, and though Superion was nothing without his five components. As a combiner, there was nothing he could do to stop the source of the problems, and as a fused form of all five Aerialbots, there was nothing he knew that could help, let alone stop the struggle.
Superion found he could hardly move when he first came back online. He was all but sagging against the wall seconds after the Aerialbots combined, his vents puffing hot air and his frame heaving heavy breaths. He could feel the team’s consciences pressing against their own—he felt the guilt and confusion, the struggle as the shifted inside of him and the panic as they finally began to realize realize just how screwed they really were.
The giant Autobot combiner was a heap of tight-fitting metal plating and rolls of mesh he knew hadn’t been there before covering his frame and spilling out at the seams as he sat slumped on the floor and slouched over his lap. Not even his powerful processor could figure out just where they had gone wrong, let alone what to do about it. The team’s memories were locked behind a stone wall alongside their consciences and voices, but Superion was half considering letting them seep through just this once so he himself could make sense of what was wrong with him.
He was so, so big… he was massive, in fact—even more so than normal. His height was put off by the low-hanging belly he sported and the massive amounts of fat that clung to his frame and threatened to burst free of the armor he wore, and his balance was swayed by the sheer volume of his frame. He wasn’t just big, but fat. He wasn’t just fat, either. He was huge—big all around, soft in all the wrong places, and bearing what he could only imagine were the poor choices of the Aerialbots that he was now forced to deal with.
It didn’t make much sense to him, really. He was their combined form. He was just a component of them, really. How could he be the one bearing the weight of their bad choices?
Superion didn’t just feel the weight of their guilt, he could see it, too. He saw in the way the mesh on his arms was squished and squeezed in between pieces of plating, and he saw it in the way it jiggled and wobbled every time he moved. He saw it in the way his thighs chafed together when he shifted, the fat grown far too big for there to be any space left behind between his limbs. He heard it, too, when his plating scraped together and the massive curve of his belly wobbled and slapped against his lap.
He was pudgy all over—from the rolls on his arms to the plump mesh on his thighs, from the way his belly protruded outward to the soft, pudgy fat filling out his frame. It was their fault, all of their faults, and he could feel that, too. As he begrudgingly opened himself up to their minds and allowed himself to be less Superion and more the Aerialbots, he caught glimpses of the guilty parties in the acts, too.
Superion could feel Silverbot’s guilt and shame mingling with the embarrassment he felt as his tanks cried out for relief and his abdomen swelled around one too many oversized meals stuffed inside of it. The big, strong, brave leader was nothing more than his fear when it got the best of him, and as Superion discovered, the best solution for stuffing his fear down was… well, stuffing himself with something else.
That was where the big, swaying belly that hung from his midsection had come from, then, Superion supposed. It was no wonder.
It was no wonder that the guilt-ridden eating extended over to his arms, too, and Superion grumbled to himself as he felt up the flabby mesh and glowered down at his lap. Slingshot, the small slagger, should know better than to pack himself full and put on the extra pounds. He was smaller than the rest of them—he could hardly handle a single cube of energon as it was. Nevertheless, it apparently hadn’t stopped him from following in their leader’s tracks… and it apparently hadn’t stopped Fireflight, either.
Silly mechs, stuffing their faces and expecting themselves to still be able to fly, let alone combine. Superion huffed as he slouched a little further and stared down at his lap as best he could with the weight of his belly blocking it from view.
Fireflight was no surprise to him at all, and neither was Air Raid. The two mechs probably dragged the rest of their team into their antics while Silverbolt was busy consoling himself over his phobia with the comfort of food, food, and more food. Superion wasn’t sure what Skydive’s excuse was, but he could tell from the mingling guilt and confusion festering in his core that the entire team had one thought on their mind:
How had they gotten themselves this far into this mess, and how would they ever manage to get out of it?
Not even Superion had an answer to that. He couldn’t get himself up off of the floor, let alone decombine. He was too big, too heavy, and too stuck. How could he help them get out of the mess they had made when even he himself couldn’t get back up onto his pedes?
Well, they were just going to have to deal with it for a while, he supposed. There was no point in struggling when the struggle wouldn’t lead them anywhere useful. Superion was all frowns and grumpy sounds as he poked at his pudgy middle and pinched the flabby folds covering his frame.
He wasn’t sure how to deal with this one… he wasn’t even sure how they would manage to decombine. It was a side effect of having a team focused on all the wrong things at the moment, he was sure, but as he sat there and mulled over his lack of options, Superion could hear and feel his big belly rumble.
Deep down inside of his tanks, he felt… hungry.
They weren’t going to be getting anywhere anytime soon, he knew, and they sure as slag weren’t going to be any use to the Autobots, either, so… slowly, he palmed the wall and struggled to heave himself up onto his pedes. It was a struggle, and his hefty frame and massive size made it even harder when he was slinging three times as much weight as he normally should have been.
He was too big to make it very far, and he was too chunky at the moment to even think about separating into their five components. What better options were there, then, than just ambling around and searching for the nearest source of sustenance?
He would deal with his current issue later. Right now, he was hungry… and right now, the Aerialbots could wait. They were the ones to have gotten him into this mess. Now, they could be the ones to struggle impatiently as he dealt with the consequences of their actions.
