Megatron’s orders from the morning meeting implied that Astrotrain’s upcoming trip through space later that evening would actually end off up being a much, much bigger challenge than he had first anticipated. Lucky Astrotrain, who had charted the course the moment he was out of that meeting and found his assumptions to be correct. It was of little importance to him how long it took or what the odds would be so long as he had ample time to prepare and refuel… and luckily, he did.
Astrotrain was shameless as he raided the communal fuel stations and energon reserves, and he paid no mind to the gawking faces that watched him head off to his quarters with his arms packed full with dozens of cubes and bags of rich, energy-sufficient snacks and sweets to fill the gaps. There was enough fuel in his arms to feed a great big group of ‘Cons, but for a mech of his size, he needed every last bit. He rummaged through his own personal stashes and reserves, too, when he got back to his habsuite, and after spreading out the goods on his berth, he sat his aft down and prepared to feast.
He was a triple-changer, as he was always parroting to the others, and triple-changers needed all the fuel they could get. An average day of work already had him filling up his belly and satiating the grumbles and growls of his extra sets of tanks more times than any ordinary Decepticon could imagine. Days like this where he really needed the extra fuel to burn while he orbited space and carried out Megatron’s grand plans needed three times as much, if not more. It was basic biology, as Astrotrain would say—a little bit of extra luck on his side, too, because when you were as big and hungry as he was, you never went without.
His belly was already crying out for fuel when he shoved his way inside, and the anticipation of a long, grueling trip made his mouth water as he spread his supplies out and assessed the goods. There was so much fuel for him to indulge in—too much by a normal bot’s standards, but just barely enough for a mech of his size and tank capacity. It would do the trick, he supposed… but he’d have to stop and refuel as soon as he landed again, just to be safe.
His berth was noisier than the sounds of his angry tanks growling as he made himself comfortable, and the pitiful protests only grew worse with every cube he knocked back. He had a lot of ground to cover, and he was bound to take off any minute now. There was no time to sit back and enjoy his fuel—he needed to move fast.
The first few cubes of energon settled nicely in his guts after he’d chased away the hunger pains and obnoxious growls that echoed through the room. Astrotrain paused in his steady refueling to cup the small curve of his belly and rumble a contented purr at the way the firm mesh grew taut around a budding pot belly. He hadn’t refueled like this in ages… a few cubes took him minutes to finish off on average, and now here he sat, knocking two, three, and four or more back at a time in seconds. His belly would be filled in no time, but he had to keep moving. The trip was a long one, and sputtering out on empty tanks halfway there wasn’t going an option.
By the time he had devoured the first small stash of energon cubes hidden away in his personal quarters, his belly was swelled out nicely around the edges, and his tanks felt comfortably full. It was a satiation that would only last for an hour or two at most, he knew, and as he poked at his protruding belly and felt around for the top set of tanks packed into his abdomen, he waited for the sensation of energon trickling slowly down into his reserves.
There was still more room for fuel, and he had plenty of energon and treats left to eat. When the tightness in his tanks eased back into the faint hunger and the slightest bit of satisfaction from a small little meal, Astrotrain continued to eat.
He had so many tanks left to fill—the first set was good and stuffed for only a few moments longer as he kept eating before his fuel and food trickled back down to fill the space left in the bottomless pit of his belly. He ate and drank and ate and drank as fast as he could, and he smacked his lips after each sip and ran his tongue over the sticky residue left on his face. He had a lot of ground to cover, and he had to cover it quick.
He polished off the last of his reserves and sweets shortly after, and from there, he moved onto chugging cubes like his life depended on it. Energon trickled down his chin and stained his cheeks as he slurped and slobbered and chugged, and despite the way his belly started to stretched and his plating strained, Astrotrain kept at it. He had a long flight ahead of him—he needed as much fuel as he could get.
“Uff…” he grunted, his servo held close against his massively swollen belly. “So full… but my tanks—“
He had only reached half capacity, if his numbers were right. That was only half of a flight—he’d have to refuel before coming back, too. He groaned as he reached through the mess of empty cubes and discarded wrappers, his trembling servo searching for something amongst the mess and chaos that hadn’t already been devoured. He felt so, so full already… but his tanks…
He had to keep refueling.
Astrotrain peeled the lid off of the cube slowly, and he grimaced as he held it up to his lips. His mouthfuls were big, and his throat swelled around each massive gulp as he forced the energon down. It hurt to eat anything more—he could feel the pressure building in his belly despite the room left inside of him. He wouldn’t make it far with the little bit he had drank.
He gulped and grimaced, gulped and groaned, then tossed aside the cube and took deep, heavy intakes as he braced his servos on the edges of the berth. It was dipping beneath his weight now, and his belly swelled out far enough that it covered his entire lap from view. It should’ve been enough fuel, but it wasn’t—not for a flight this long, and not for a trip that far.
His belly was massive now, and his tanks were packed beyond their capacity. His armor groaned like the berth creaking beneath him, and his tight plating was threatening to burst with every movement he made. Astrotrain huffed and puffed as he reached for the last of his energon reserves and peeled the lids off, and he held up two cubes at once to gulp them down. Energon spilled over his chest and stained his frame, and his belly protested the influx of fuel with pitiful whines that grew into deeper, painful, and ominous sounds.
He was so full now. Primus, he felt more than stuffed. He had to fill up each and every one of his tanks, though. He couldn’t go without enough of the fuel on such a long flight. Besides… he was a big mech, and big mechs had big tanks—and lots of them.
His tanks sloshed as he scooted himself towards the end of the berth, and with a great effort, Astrotrain heaved himself up onto his pedes and wobbled in place. He was swaying, and the weight of his belly was almost too much to bear. He could hardly stay standing as he took one uncertain step forward, then another, shuffling on pedes that hardly lifted off of the ground as he grunted and worked his way across the room.
He had overdone it—slag, he’d stuffed himself too far. The mission was too big, and the trip was too long. He should have said no… but he didn’t. He had the capacity for it. His extra tanks could store the energon… but he wasn’t prepared for this. Slag, he wasn’t prepared to drink so much.
He was filled up from the very bottom of his reserves to the top of his main set of fuel tanks. The over abundance of fuel filling him up had trickled down and stored itself in his fat reserves, too, and his frame had softened up drastically from it. His third step forward had him grabbing wildly for the wall, and the forth step resulted in a loud pop of his plating and the weight of his big belly previously contained spilling forth in a rush of soft, fleshy mesh and rolls that hung so low they nearly reached his knees. He was still so stuffed—the top half of his abdomen was firm to the touch, and his tanks were filled up past their capacity twice over.
“Slaggit,” Astrotrain puffed as he leaned against the wall, his big belly smushed below him. “Slaggit all…”
He could hardly move any further. Slag, he could hardly breathe properly. The pressure in his tanks was up to his throat, and his belly was weighing him down terribly now. He wondered briefly with a rush of morbid curiosity whether or not he’d even manage to take off. Would he even be able to transform?
Foolishly, he tried. Astrotrain pushed himself off of the wall and staggered into the center of the room, feeling practically drunk off of his overindulgence. His belly swung and his tanks sloshed as the fuel packed inside of his tanks caused them to gurgle angrily, and with his servos held out at his sides and his optics closed tightly, he focused…
He focused…
And he tried to transform.
It was a horrible idea, really. The blinding pain started before the transformation sequence had even gotten a chance to begin, and Astrotrain was crying out and forcing his systems to abort the ridiculous attempt before it could go any further. The pressure in his tanks skyrocketed, and he felt squeezed from the inside out. There was nothing but panic at first—panic and transforming limbs, the warning symbols covering his sight and clogging his HUD, a rush of adrenaline that left him feeling bottomless and his tanks jolting from the fear, then—
He was crashing to the floor after that. His aft hit the ground hard enough to rattle the room and cause ornaments and decorations to go crashing off of shelves datapads to clatter onto the floor with him. His flailing limbs and poor sense of direction only made things worse for himself as he ended up lying stretched out flat on his back after that, and with his belly pinning him in place and the massive weight of his poor choices weighing him down now via every last cube he had guzzled, Astrotrain was starting to feel pretty embarrassed.
He was a triple-changer. Triple-changers needed the extra fuel… they had all of the extra tanks! He just couldn’t believe it. Here he was, having stuffed himself silly and packed his belly full of enough fuel to feed a miniature army, just like he was supposed to. He had prepared for his mission and fueled up until he could fuel no more… but that, apparently, was the wrong thing to do.
Either that or he had just overdone it, but in his petulant state, Astrotrain hardly wanted to consider that as an option. He wasn’t moving anytime soon though, and that was for sure.
It was a shame… this was bound to be such a wonderful mission, too, and for once, he had finally gotten the chance to fill up his reserves. Those old stories about triple-changers needing extra fuel and having extra tanks were starting to feel a little fake now, that was for sure, and though he hated to admit to his mistakes, Astrotrain knew he’d have to explain to Megatron why he wasn’t up in the air and taking off in the next hour or so.
Ah, well. He hoped the fuel wore off quickly—he was already growing tired of sitting here trapped on his back with his big, stuffed belly weighing him down. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrible the punishment for failing to pull through on a mission would be compared to this miserable fate… so he didn’t. For now, he would sit, he would mope, and he would regret ever stuffing himself so much.
There was always next time… and next time, he would be sure to be much, much more careful.
