Random safe vore thought. I've seen ideas for robot preds with flexible stomachs, cooling or heating system in their belly, probably some with built in comfort systems, and probably even one where there's a built in entertainment system. (Please don't ask for sources, I have no idea where I saw any of this before.)
An idea I think is worth discussing, though, is robot preds that aren't meant to have any of this stuff. They were just a regular robot, maybe even assigned to help the person with tasks around the house. But they know how to handle repairs, and they've learned what their human likes as they and their human grew to be friends, so they want to help them to the best of their ability.
Knowing what the human finds most comfortable, they set up system modifications to add whatever functions and materials would make their human most comfortable. They even make a flexible throat component to make sure they don't hurt them trying to get them in. I like the idea of a robot that cares for you to such an extent that it finds ways to do things the manufacturers never thought of just to be there for you.
I don't mean this in the sense of needing to change to be valuable, I don't like dark/existential themes like that. I mean it more like "this robot cares so much for its user that it'll invent new upgrade options just to show its affection." It knows you're fine with how it already is, but wants to be able to protect you and comfort you more effectively.
thinking about getting eaten by a supercomputer or something but instead of it having a stomach you're just completely entangled in it's wires kinda like this
it would be pretty dark unless there's a few LEDs in there, and all you'd be able to hear would be the faint buzzing and whirring of the machine you're currently trapped in. the cables may tighten their grasp on you every once in a while, as if trying to hold you even closer.
The street was eerily quiet, following the chaotic skirmish, the only sound being the heavy, rhythmic thud of Ratchet's pedes against the asphalt. The medic was venting heavily, his cooling fans whirring loudly as he tried to soothe his frazzled processors. He had been hot on the trail of a particularly clumsy Seeker, but the pursuit had ended in a mess of spilled, glowing blue liquid.
Ratchet stared down at the small organic, you. They were practically submerged in the highly concentrated energon that had spilled from the shattered cube. To a Cybertronian, energon was life, but to a human, this much concentrated fuel was a volatile, sticky, and potentially toxic hazard. He couldn't just leave them here to drown in it, and he certainly couldn't wait to drive them back to base in his ambulance mode with them covered in such a potent substance.
Panic, a rare emotion for the usually stoic medic, flared in his spark. He looked around no other autobot were in the immediate vicinity. He had to act now.
With a grunt of uncharacteristic desperation, Ratchet leaned down. His large, white and orange servos moved with surprising gentleness as he scooped them up. He didn't have time for a delicate extraction. He brought them close to his faceplate, the heat radiating from his chassis palpable. Without a second thought, he tilted his helm back and carefully guided them into his intake.
The sensation of being swallowed was swift. They felt the smooth, metallic walls of his throat guide them down until they landed with a soft thud in the warmth of his fuel tank.
Inside, it wasn't the terrifying, acidic environment one might expect of a stomach. Instead, it was a spacious, rhythmic chamber filled with a warm, pulsing energy. The walls were lined with soft, flexible conduits that humed with the steady beat of his spark. As the internal systems of the medic began to work, a gentle, soothing sensation washed over them; the specialized fluids within the tank began to break down and absorb the excess, highly concentrated energon from their clothes and skin, cleaning them without causing harm.
Outside, Ratchet let out a long, weary vent, his optics flickering with a mix of guilt and relief. He placed a hand over his mid section, feeling the slight weight of the human settling within his chassis.
"Forgive me, little one," he muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble that they could likely feel vibrating through the walls of the tank. "But you were in a state of dire need... and Optimus is going to have a spark attack when he sees what I've done."
He straightened his posture and began the trek back to base, his strides more cautious than usual to ensure his new, tiny passenger wasn't tossed around too much by the movement of his internal pistons. He had a massive explanation to prepare for, especially for Optimus, but for now, his priority was getting them to the safety of the med bay.
Inside the dark, warm chamber, the sensation of being swallowed was quickly replaced by the overwhelming realization of where they were. The walls around them weren't solid metal like a car, but a pulsing, rhythmic membrane that hummed with a deep, bass heavy vibration. Panic, sharp and cold, sliced through their senses.
"please let me out! I don't wanna die!" They screamed, their voice echoing strangely within the enclosed space of the fuel tank. They begun to thrash, their hands and feet striking frantically against the soft, flexible lining of the tank. Each blow felt like hitting a heavy, pressurized cushion, but the sheer force of their terror made them strike with everything they had.
Outside, Ratchet nearly jumped out of his pedes. The sudden, frantic impact against his internal mid section felt like small, rhythmic jackhammering against his sensitive internal components.
"Primus!" He hissed, stumbling slightly as a particularly hard kick from them sent a jolt of sensation through his mid section plating. He quickly placed both large servos over his chassis, pressing down firmly but carefully to try and soothe the frantic movement within. "Quiet, quiet! Small one, please! You're going to rattle my internal sensors loose!"
He looked around the deserted street, his optics darting nervously. He felt incredibly foolish. He was a highly trained medic, a veteran of millions of years of war, and here he was, trying to hush a terrified human as if they were a sparkling.
"You aren't dying! You're being cleaned!" He grumbled, though his voice held a note of genuine concern. He could feel the vibrations of their cries through his very frame. He knew the science of it; the energon they were coated in was so potent that if he just pulled them out now, the residual residue could overwhelm their tiny organic systems. The internal filtration systems of his tank were already working overtime, drawing the blue glow away from their skin and into his own fuel lines to neutralize it.
He sighed, a heavy, metallic sound, and began to walk faster, his pace a steady, rhythmic march intended to lull them into a sense of calm.
"Just...settle down," he muttered, his tone softening slightly despite his grumpiness. "The more you fight, the longer it takes for the filtration to finish. You're safe. By the time we reach the base, you'll be the cleanest organic on this entire planet. Just... hold on for a few cycles."
He knew 'a few cycles' was an understatement. Given the concentration of that energon, they were likely going to be tucked away in his chassis for at least a full day while his systems worked their magic. He could already imagine the look on Optimus's face and the inevitable lecture from Arcee about his 'reckless' methods.
Inside the dark, pulsating warmth of the tank, their world was a rhythmic, heavy drumbeat the sound of Ratchet's spark. Their lungs burned from screaming, and their muscles ached from the frantic, desperate struggle against the walls that felt both like a prison and a living thing. Every time they struck the lining, the vibration traveled through their entire body, a constant reminder of the sheer scale of the giant they were trapped inside.
"Let me... out..." they gasped, though their voice was becoming a mere whisper against the humming walls of the fuel tank. They tried one last, heavy kick, but it felt as though they were striking a mountain of soft velvet.
Slowly, the frantic energy began to drain from their limbs. The sheer exhaustion of their terror started to take its toll. Their movements became sluggish, their strikes turning from sharp, panicked jabs into heavy, uncoordinated leans against the membrane. The rhythmic thudding of Ratchet's footsteps outside, which had previously felt like terrifying earthquakes, began to feel strangely... hypnotic. The warmth of the tank, combined with the heavy, soothing hum of the filtration systems working around them, began to lull their senses. Their eyes grew heavy, and their head slumped against the soft, pulsing wall.
Outside, Ratchet felt the frantic jackhammering in his mid section begin to subside. The sharp, jolting impacts transitioned into slow, rhythmic nudges, and then, finally, a stillness.
He let out a vent of relief so loud it sounded like a steam engine releasing pressure. He slowed his pace, walking with a much more measured, gentle gait to avoid disturbing the tiny passenger.
"Finally," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that they could feel in their very bones. "I thought you were going to dent my internal plating."
He reached the entrance to the autobot base, the massive hangar doors beginning to groan open. He felt a flicker of apprehension. He was a medic, yes, but he was also a bot who valued his dignity. Walking into the main hub with a human currently residing in his fuel tank was... unconventional, even for him.
As he rolled into the base, the bright lights of the commando center hit his optics. He could see the familiar silhouettes of the others. Optimus was standing near the central computer, deep in thought, while Bumblebee was playing a quiet game with Raf near the human platform.
Ratchet cleared his throat a metallic, rasping sound and tried to look as casual as a bot could while carrying a human in his stomach.
"Optimus..." Ratchet began, his voice sounding a bit more strained than usual as he felt then shift slightly in their sleep. "We have... a bit of a situation. And before you ask, yes, it is quite... complicated."
Inside the tank, the silence was heavy, broken only by the deep, oceanic thrum of Ratchet's internal systems. They had finally succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue of their ordeal. Their breathing was shallow and rhythmic, synchronized almost unconsciously with the pulsing of the tank's walls. The warmth was no longer terrifying; it was a thick, heavy cocoon that seemed to hold them in a state of suspended animation.
Outside, the atmosphere in the autobot base shifted instantly. Optimus prime turned, his helm tilting slightly as his keen sensors picked up the unusual cadence of Ratchet's spark and the subtle, irregular weight in the medic's midsection.
"A situation, old friend?" Optimus asked, his deep, resonant voice echoing through the hangar. He stepped away from the console, his blue optics narrowing with a hint of curiosity and concern. "You sound... unsettled. Did the decepticons intercept you?"
Bumblebee, sensing the tension, chirped a series of inquisitive whirrs and clicks, looking up from his game with Raf. Even Raf, sensing the change in the air, looked up from his laptop, hid eyes darting between the towering autobots.
Ratchet let out a huff, his cooling fans kicking into a higher gear as he felt the heat of a dozen staring optics. He crossed his arms over his chassis, a defensive gesture that only served to empathize the slight bulge in his midsection where they lay.
"It's not a decepticon ambush, Optimus," Ratchet grumbled, his faceplate flushing a slight darker shade of silver. "It's... an organic. A very small, very drenched, and very uncooperative organic."
Arcee, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar, straightened up, her optics widening. "An organic? What are you talking about, Ratchet? Did you pick up a stray human?"
"I didn't pick them up' like a piece of scrap metal!" Ratchet snapped, his crankiness returning as a shield for his embarrassment. He looked down at his own midsection, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble. "They were covered in highly concentrated energon. It was a volatile mess. If I had tried to carry them out in the open, they're could have been burned or contaminated. So... the most logical, most efficient course of action was to..."
He trailed off, looking at Optimus as if waiting for the prime to finish the sentence for him.
"To what, Ratchet?" Optimus prompted gently, though a flicker of realization was beginning to dawn in his optics.
Ratchet sighted, a long, defeated vent. "I swallowed them. They're currently in my fuel tank. And judging by the amount of energon they were soaked in, they'll be staying there at least for a full cycle to ensure the filtration process is complete."
A stunned silence fell over the base. Bumblebee let out a high pitched, confused squeak. Miko, who had just wandered in with bulkhead, let out a loud, "what?!"
"You ate a human?!" Arcee exclaimed, her sassy tone replaced by pure disbelief.
"It was a medical necessity!" Ratchet yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. "And they're fine! They're actually... sleeping. Quite peacefully, in fact."
While the rest of the team was busy debating the biological and mechanical implications of Ratchet's 'medical necessity', Optimus Prime stood perfectly still, his helm slightly bowed. To anyone else, he looked like his usual, stoic self a pillar of wisdom and calm leadership. But internally, his processors were running a frantic simulation of the upcoming debriefing.
How in the name of Primus am I supposed to explain this to Agent Fowler? Optimus thought, a rare moment of genuine mental fatigue washing over his spark.
He could already envision the scene. He could see Fowler's face turning a bright red, indignant shade of red, his jaw dropping so low it might hit the floor of his command center. The agent was a man of military discipline and logic; he dealt in sightings, tactical data, and government secrets. He did not deal in 'the autobots medic has repurposed his fuel tank as a temporary organic containment unit'.
"Prime!" he could hear Fowler's booming voice already. "Are you telling me that instead of a transport vehicle, your medic is currently using a human as a fuel additive?! Is it a war or a buffet?!"
Optimus let out a long, slow vent, the sound deep and heavy. He glanced at Ratchet, who was currently defending his honor by waving a wrench around and shouting about 'chemical absorption rates' and 'volatility'.
"It is.. an unconventional method of transport," Optimus finally spoke, his voice calm, though there was a subtle, almost imperceptible heaviness to it. He looked towards the human platform, where Raf, Jack and Miko were staring at Ratchet's midsection with a mixture of awe and sheer terror.
"But Optimus!" Miko shouted, pointing a finger at the medic. "That's like... the craziest thing ever! Are they okay in there? Does it feel weird?"
"It's a highly controlled environment, Miko," Ratchet barked back, though he instinctively placed a hand over his chassis, as if to protect the sleeping human from loud noises. "And they're perfectly safe. The energon is being neutralized as we speak."
Optimus turned his gaze back to the floor, his optics dimming slightly in thought. He would have to coordinate with Fowler carefully. Perhaps he could frame it as a 'specialized emergency containment protocol.' yes, that sounded professional. "Agent Fowler, due to unforseen energon contamination, the medic initiated an emergency internal storage sequence."
He sighed internally. Even for a prime, some battles were harder than others. This wasn't a battle of blasters and energon swords, but a battle of explaining the absurd to a very stressed human government agent.
"Ratchet," Optimus said, his voice regaining its authoritative tone to steer the conservation back to stability. "Ensure you monitor their vitals through your internal sensors. We must be certain the filtration process does not stress their organic heart."
"Of course, Optimus! I'm a medic, not a sparkling sitter!" Ratchet grumbled, though he immediately began checking his readouts with intense focus.
The transition from sleep to wakefulness was not a gentle one. For them, it didn't start with the light of sun or the sound of birds; it started with a deep, rhythmic thrum thrum, thrum thrum that vibrated through their very marrow.
As their consciousness slowly returned, they felt a heavy, warm pressure pressing in on them from all sides. The air was thick, humid, and smelled faintly of something metallic and sweet the scent of the energon, but filtered and softened. For a few seconds, they were disouriented, their mind grasping for the familiar walls of their bedroom or the hard floor of a street.
Then, the realization hit them like a physical blow.
The 'walls' around them weren't walls. They were pulsing. They were moving. They were alive.
Their eyes snapped open in the dim, blue tinted darkness of the tank. They looked up and saw the translucent, glowing ceiling of the chamber, through which they could see the faint, shifting shadows of massive mechanical structures. They realized with a jolt of pure, unadulterated adrenaline that they weren't in a room. They weren't in a vehicle.
They were inside a living or rather, a sentient machine.
"He... he ate me..." they whispered, the thought blooming in their mind with terrifying clarity. "The giant robot...he swallowed me whole!"
The sheer panic, which had briefly subsided during their sleep, surged back with a vengeance. The terror of being trapped in the belly of a beast, of being digested, of being lost in the vast, dark interior of a mechanical titan, sent them into a fresh frenzy.
"HELP! LET ME OUT!" They shrieked, their voice cracking. "SOMEBODY! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
They began to trash wildly. Their limbs flailing against the soft, yielding walls of the fuel tank. They kicked and punched at the membrane, their heart hammering again their ribs like a trapped bird. To them, every movement of the robot felt like a tectonic shift, every sound like a thunderclap.
Outside, the effect was instantaneous.
Ratchet, who had been mid sentence while explaining the 'stabilization of organic vitals' to a skeptical Arcee, suddenly let out a choked sound. His entire chassis jolted as a particularly violent kick from the human hit a sensitive sensor array near his primary fuel line.
"They're awake!" Ratchet yelled, his hands flying to his midsection to steady himself. "They're awake and they're losing it!"
The sudden movement and the loud, muffled screams echoing from within his chassis caused the entire autobot team to freeze.
"Are they okay?!" Jack called out from the platform, leaning over the railing with wide, worried eyes.
"They sound like they're fighting for their life!" Miko added, looking half impressed and half terrified.
"Ratchet, calm them down!" Optimus commanded, his voice firm but laced with a hint of urgency. "The sudden movement could be distressing to their organic equilibrium!"
"I'm trying!" Ratchet barked, his optics darting around as he tried to find a way to soothe them without accidentally jolting them even more. He began to hum a low, resonant Cybertronian frequency designed to soothe restless sparks while simultaneously trying to use his servos to apply gentle, stabilizing pressure to his midsection. "Quiet, little one! Please! You're safe! You're in the med bay! Well... technically you're in me, but you're safe!"
Inside the tank, their frantic movement slowly began to taper off. Their lungs were heaving, their chest aching from the sheer exertion of their screaming, and their limbs felt like lead. The voice they heard that deep, vibrating rumble was so immense that it felt less like a person talking and more like earth itself was speaking to them.
He's... he's talking to me? They thought, their mind racing to catch up with their racing heart. He says he's a medic. He days he's in a 'med bay'.
They stayed still, their back pressed against the warm, pulsing wall of the tank. They were still terrified the concept of being inside a giant metal being was too much for their brain to fully process but the violent, bone shaking thrashing stopped. They were no longer to punch their way out; instead, they curled into a tight ball, their eyes wide and darting in the dimm, blue tinted light, waiting for the next 'earthquake'.
They didn't quite believe him yet. How could they? They were a tiny human, and he was a mountain of living steel. But the warmth of the chamber was undeniably soothing, and the rhythmic thrum thrum of his spark was starting to act like a heavy, mechanic lullaby.
Outside, Ratchet felt the sudden change. The violent, jarring impacts transitioned into a heavy, trembling stillness. He let out a vent so long and relieved it sounded like a gust of wind through a canyon.
"They...They're settling," Ratchet whispered, his servos still pressed firmly but gently against his midsection. He looked up at Optimus, his optics wide with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. "The thrashing has stopped. They're still... well, they're still clearly distressed, but they're not trying to break my internal conduits anymore."
"Good," Optimus said, a hint of a smile the smallest, most subtle one flickering across his faceplate. "It seems your 'medical necessity' has reached a temporary truce with your chassis."
"Don't start, Optimus," Ratchet grumbled, though the edge was gone from his voice. He turned his attention back to his internal sensors, watching the data stream carefully. "They're still highly agitated. Their heart rate is still elevated, and their temperature is a bit high from the panic. But the energon absorption is proceeding perfectly. The blue glow is receding from their skin..."
Bumblebee leaned in closer to Ratchet's side, making a soft, sympathetic series of whirrs and clicks, as if trying to coo to the human inside.
"Even Bee thinks you're being a good host, Ratchet," Arcee teased, though she kept her voice lower than usual, respecting the fragile state of their tiny guest.
Ratchet ignored them, focusing entirely on the tiny life force he was currently cradling. "Just stay calm, little one," he murmured, his voice a low, steady vibration meant to reach them through the walls. "The process is working. You're doing fine. Just... try to breathe."
On a writers note: holy shit this took me almost four hours to type down. So... this is a tf prime ratchet vore story... Kinda unwilling but how do you know the giant robot means no harm when he didn't tell you that before and you never met a Cybertronian before... I hope y'all like it...
