The hab-suite was quiet, the soft hum of the Lost Light's engines a distant lullaby beyond its walls.
Ratchet lay back against the headboard, his optics half-lidded as he watched Drift settle beside him.
“You're thinking too loudly.” Ratchet murmured. “I can practically hear your processor cycling from here.”
Drift's optics flickered, a faint flush spreading across his faceplates.
“I'm not thinking about anything.”
Ratchet huffed a quiet laugh.
“Liar.”
He reached out, letting his digits brush lightly against Drift's thigh.
“I've been asking you for cycles, and every time you find a way to change the subject.” His gaze softened. “What's holding you back?”
Drift's vents cycled slowly.
His gaze drifted over Ratchet's faceplate, lingering on the way the dim light caught the white of his plating and the quiet intensity of his bright blue optics.
“It's... vulnerable.” He admitted at last. “To be that exposed. To have you... there.”
“I know.”
Ratchet's voice softened even further.
He slipped an arm around Drift's waist and gently drew him closer until he was straddling his lap.
“That's exactly why I want it.” One of his servos came up to rest against Drift's cheek. “I want every part of you, Drift.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“The warrior.”
His thumb stroked lightly across Drift's faceplate.
“The spiritual mech.”
Their optics met.
“And the mech who trusts me enough to let himself be that vulnerable with me.”
He slid his servos slowly up Drift's thighs, his grip firm against the smooth plating.
“I want to taste you.” He murmured. “I want to hold your thighs open and worship you until you can't even remember your own designation.”
Drift's faceplates burned a deeper shade of blue.
His servos came to rest against Ratchet's chassis, his digits curling instinctively against the plating.
“You really want that?”
“I've wanted it for cycles.” Ratchet admitted without hesitation. “I love your frame, Drift. I love the way you move; I love the sounds you make. I want to lose myself in you until you've completely fallen apart beneath my glossa.”
Drift's vents hitched.
He looked down at Ratchet, meeting the raw hunger in those bright blue optics, and felt the last of his hesitation quietly melt away.
“Okay.”
Ratchet's grip tightened ever so slightly around his thighs.
“Good.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Come here.”
He shifted until he was lying flat against the berth, his helm sinking into the pillow.
Drift moved carefully into position, supporting himself on his servos and knees above Ratchet’s faceplate. The heat of his valve was palpable, radiating down against Ratchet's faceplates. The scent of his lubricant, clean and sweet, filled Ratchet's olfactory sensors.
“Lower.” Ratchet murmured, his voice slightly muffled. “I want you sitting right over my intake. I want to feel you.”
Drift lowered himself slowly, his valve brushing against Ratchet's mouth.
The first contact sent a jolt through both of them. Ratchet's servos shot up immediately, gripping Drift's thighs, his digits digging into the plating.
“Perfect.” Ratchet murmured against the warm mesh of his valve. “You're perfect.”
He opened his intake and pressed his glossa flat against the length of Drift's valve. He licked upward, a slow, deliberate stroke that parted the folds and ended with a flick against his node.
The taste of him exploded on Ratchet's glossa; clean, metallic, uniquely Drift.
Drift gasped, his entire frame tensing.
His servos clenched the berth sheets beneath him as another involuntary tremor ran through his systems.
“Ratchet...”
The medic answered only with another low groan, his grip tightening just enough to steady Drift without restraining him.
He did it again, another long, slow lick, this time tracing the rim of his valve, teasing the entrance. His glossa dipped inside, just the tip, tasting the slick heat within.
The taste was intoxicating; Ratchet's servos tightened on Drift's thighs, holding him steady. He could feel the powerful frame of his partner's legs trembling under his grip. The vulnerability of the position, the trust it required, made Ratchet's spark burn with fierce affection.
He drew his glossa back, letting his attention settle on Drift's anterior node.
With slow, deliberate movements, he circled it with the tip of his glossa, feeling it stiffen beneath the gentle attention. Drift's vents cycled in ragged bursts, his frame rocking helplessly as his hips pressed down against Ratchet's face.
“That's it,” Ratchet hummed, the vibration resonating through Drift's sensitive plating. “Use me. Take what you need.”
He lavished the node with slow, unhurried strokes before drawing it gently into his intake, teasing it between his dermas.
Drift cried out, the sound breaking apart into a desperate gasp as his hips jerked forward.
“Ratchet, please...”
“Please, what?” Ratchet asked, pulling back just enough to speak.
He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Drift's thigh, his bright blue optics never leaving the glistening valve before him.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want...” Drift's vents hitched sharply. “I want you to keep going. I want to feel your glossa inside me. Please.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Ratchet's mouth against Drift's thigh.
“That's exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He dived back in, his glossa plunging deep into Drift's valve, savoring the warmth that enveloped it. The sensitive mesh of Drift's channel tightened around him, fluttering with every movement.
Ratchet worked his glossa in and out, fucking him with his mouth, his servos never leaving Drift's thighs. He kept them spread, holding him steady while his thumbs traced slow, reassuring circles along the inner plating; a gentle contrast to the intensity of what he was doing.
He could taste Drift's growing arousal, the lubricant steadily building with every passing moment.
Drawing his glossa back, he swept it along the length of Drift's valve before slipping inside again, eager to savor every reaction.
He wanted to memorize him.
The way Drift responded beneath him.
The way his frame welcomed every touch.
The way trust and desire had become impossible to tell apart.
Above him, Drift's frame trembled uncontrollably. His vents cycled in desperate, uneven bursts as his servos abandoned the berth sheets in favor of Ratchet's helm, his digits curling instinctively around his chevron.
“Ratchet, I'm close. I'm so close.”
Ratchet's servos tightened on his thighs, pulling him down harder against his face.
His glossa curled inside Drift's valve, pressing against the sensitive mesh of his inner wall.
“Overload for me.” Ratchet growled against his valve. “I want to taste you. I want to feel you fall apart.”
Drift's overload crashed over him like a wave.
His entire frame arched, a cry of pure pleasure escaping his vocalizer as every circuit seemed to ignite at once, his valve clamping down hard around Ratchet's glossa.
Hot transfluid spilled over his glossa, flooding his intake. Ratchet groaned, drinking it down, his glossa working frantically, lapping at the clenching mesh, drawing out every last drop.
He didn't stop there. He kept his glossa moving, licking at the sensitive node, coaxing aftershocks that made Drift whimper and buck against his face again.
“One more.” Ratchet murmured, his voice rough with affection. “Give me one more.”
He pushed his glossa deep again, curling it against the sensitive mesh of his valve's inner wall. His servo on Drift's thighs tightened, pulling him down harder against his face.
The stimulation was too much.
Drift's second overload followed quickly, this one just as intense, his transfluid spilling again into Ratchet's waiting intake.
Ratchet finally pulled away, his faceplate slick with Drift's fluids.
He pressed a series of soft, reverent kisses to the inside of Drift's thighs, his servos still holding him, still stroking the heated plating.
“Come here.”
He said quietly.
Drift collapsed beside him, his frame limp and trembling. Ratchet immediately gathered him into his arms.
He kissed Drift's helm, his cheek, his dermas, letting him taste himself on Ratchet's glossa.
“I love you.” Ratchet said, his bright blue optics filled with unmistakable affection. “I love every part of you; the way you move, the way you respond to me… the way you trust me.”
Drift looked back at him, his optics soft and warm.
“I love you too, Ratchet.”
A rare, genuine smile spread across Ratchet's faceplate.
He drew Drift even closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the familiar scent that had long since come to mean home.
He was content.
He was at peace.
And he was hopelessly, completely in love.
Long after Drift had fallen into recharge in his arms, Ratchet remained awake, absentmindedly tracing idle patterns across the plating of his thighs and pressing the occasional gentle kiss to the warm metal.
Watching over him like that didn't feel like a duty.
🔞 art and short fic below the cut. First time ever posting something like this, I hope it’s good. ^^” (reblogs are very welcome, as i think i might be shadowbanned :’3 )
“Bodycam Footage”
Wrote this cause I wanted more of this concept but I didn’t want to draw all that. If there’s any demand, from myself or others, I may make a sequel.
Here, a valve produces transfluid/lubricant whilst a spike produces protomatter, y'know, the thing that builds the baby.
“Prowlll…” he moaned, mumbling to himself.
In his room, in the base, he was riding a pillow, the ground in front of him currently splattered with his own protomatter. He wished it was inside Prowl. Or on him. He didn’t really care which.
In his head, in his own dirty little fantasy, he was frotting against Prowl’s spike like how one of those… one of those stupid Earth animals he loves so much fight with those horns on their heads. He could give him something better to do than watch those stupid documentary shows. Like; Prowl’s the one on the team who knows protoforms, huh? He thinks he knows so much— Bee could act like he was about to put one in him if he wanted. He could get that annoying, deep, luxurious voice to glitch into absolute ecstasy. Not that he needed anything like that.
Not that Prowl ever would.
Bee was so sure, he didn’t even bother to ask. He was chill with letting his little crush run its course. Sure, the amount of times he’s been absolutely (not!) fixated on the 2-wheeler until he needed to go blow his load has been getting… more frequent, but it would peter out eventually. He was sure of it.
Somewhere along the way, the little fantasy in his processor shifted. You see; he was scanned from a police vehicle, which came with a 100% operational, bona fide dash cam. He’d looked through the footage a few times, mostly just reviewing missions. But his processor, oh, it imagined a world where Prowl got ahold of the footage, the footage being captured right now.
Of course, not right now for real right now. His dashcam only turned on when he was driving in his alt mode. (But you see, in his root mode, his cabin was perched on his chassis; the driver’s seat and dashboard pointing down at his legs.) Imagine; Prowl, holding homemade porn of his own crewmate, and not being able to resist, or maybe he’d just stumble upon the footage already playing, go ‘holy shit, what the hell-‘ then hear his name. Hear Bumblebee moaning his name under his breath to no one except himself. And his spike can’t help but pressurize. And he goes to lock the door and—
Bumblebee imagined an embarrassed Prowl, spike in hand or digits sunk into his valve, being a creep. Masturbating to Bumblebee moaning over the thought of him, shooting his load over the thought of him, whispering his name in broken mewls.
Oh frag, that did it.
Bumblebee rutted into the pillow even faster, chasing that edge, that peak, he was almost there— The idea of Prowl watching him shudder right now, just recorded and replayed, fuck, that revved his engine. Fuck-fuck-fuck, he was gonna cum. He got lost in the fantasy, he wanted to put on a show for the uptight 2-wheeler. He mumbled to no one but himself as he humped into mesh, “You like that Prowl?…” “You want me to be yours?” “…Frag— slag—“ He wrapped his servo around his spike and frantically pumped it, still grinding the rest of his array into the pillow. “You want me inside you,” he insisted to no one, projecting. “Fuck, Prowl… Prowl,” he moaned through gritted dentae, “I want you so fragging bad,” he admitted. “Why do you have to be so hot?” He shifted his weight to be leaning forward onto the floor instead of arching his back like a bottom on top. He went faster, faster—
“Frag! —Fuck!!” Protomatter shot out of his spike. Protomatter meant for Prowl. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck,” he milked the rest out of himself, riding the cresting wave of overloading to the hottest thing he’s come up with yet. In his processor, Prowl was sitting at the monitor in a locked, dark room, cumming right at that part of the footage, cumming to Bumblebee’s frame.
“Hah~, hff~, hah~,” He vented, cooling down his overheating frame. Frag, he wanted that. Prowl overloading for him. Just like he just did. In his room to a slagging pillow.
“Fuck.” Sighed Bumblebee, this time in the horrible throes of clarity. “Slag.” Now he had all this mess to clean up and think about what he’s done.
Mecha pilot ratchet learning about cybertronian "sex" Through Optimus and Ironhide. Like he just watch them do their stuff (with a boner) while also noting the difference of anatomy. Maybe also halfway through Ironhide and Optimus ask him to join (which he gladly do it). Sadly the mecha doesn't have hole for load, so all can ratchet do is wank them
Sorry for the delayed response. Your message inspired me to write a fic. I've posted it to AO3 under the same title, but I'll post it below as well.
Title: Learning on the Fly
Relationship: Optimus Prime/Ironhide/Ratchet
Rating: Explicit
Ratchet had always had an affinity for machines. He loved getting his hands dirty and learning how individual components worked. He’d find his attention easily transfixed by a piston pumping, or how tubing flexed and undulated with the fluids coursing through it.
Despite the chaos of war raging around him, he found comfort and stability in the knowledge that all machinery had a purpose, a core function. Once he understood that function, became familiar with every connector and clamp and valve, Ratchet could repair just about anything with little guidance.
It was that machinery mastery that aided him as chief engineer of the squad in which he served. He had repaired most mecha in the service, saving many from the scrapyard. Because of this, the troops had nicknamed him the “mecha medic.”
But as much as he loved his job, he had begun to wonder when boredom started to set in. He yearned for the excitement of the old days, when every day granted him something new to experience, when cracking open an access panel to a smoking circuit or tearing open a command console gave him the chance to develop some new repair method.
He wanted to learn again.
Ratchet never expected that yearning to manifest in the form of the leader of an alien species on their back, moaning under the medic’s ministrations.
“Is this your first time doing this?”
Ratchet cast a less-than-amused glance at the large, black-armor clad bot to his left, not that the mech would have been able to see past the visor of Ratchet’s mecha.
Ironhide was initially resistant to the idea of welcoming a human into the fold of Optimus’s and his relationship, and especially to the thought of letting that human watch them fuck.
At first, the old warrior was all growling and biting words, refusing to leave the human alone with his Prime and always watching him with a gaze that said, “if you hurt Optimus in any way, I will kill you in ways your forensic scientists won’t begin to comprehend for another hundred years.”
But with the medic’s kindness and suffer-no-fools attitude, combined with the unmistakable fact that Ratchet was bringing a light back into Optimus’s and his lives they hadn’t recognized had nearly been extinguished, Ironhide soon warmed up to the medic.
Those growls and grunts had softened, and now Ironhide watched Ratchet with dimmed, half-lidded optics as the medic pumped Optimus’s and his spikes in unison.
“Ironhide, don’t tease him,” Optimus gently chided his lover. The Prime gazed up at the visored face, and Ratchet could feel the bot was looking right through it and into the cockpit. As he held Ratchet’s gaze, he reached down and wrapped his large hand around the servo of Ratchet’s mecha. He flexed his fingers, guiding Ratchet to grip his spike tighter and showed Ratchet how to stroke him. “You’re doing wonderfully, Ratchet. Just like that.”
“Who said I was teasing him? Though I would like to see him be a bit more adventurous.” The smirk on Ironhide’s face was quickly erased by a few quick flicks of the controls in Ratchet’s cockpit, a thumb pressing firmly into the slit of the flared spike head.
Though the technology was rudimentary and still somewhat new, neural relays recently installed in his mecha allowed Ratchet to feel as though he were physically gripping the thick cocks he was pumping. The sensations were subtle, but his hands felt heavy under their weight, and he could feel every ridge roll along the soft flesh of his palm. The sensation of wetness gathered on the pad of his thumb as he smeared the faintly glowing fluid over Ironhide’s tip.
As entertaining as it was to watch Ironhide resist finishing early, the reactions of Optimus’s body were drawing the medic’s fascination. With each tug of his spike, every brush of fingertips over the Prime’s tip, Optimus’s hips rose up to chase Ratchet’s retreating touch.
Internal fans stuttered from the strain of cycling up and down too fast, pumps thupped with the rush of fluids driven by the Prime’s excitement, and alien organs clicked and sizzled in a song Ratchet could only describe as a beautiful cacophony.
He needed to hear more.
Ratchet unceremoniously, and to the weapons specialist’s frustration, released him to bring both hands to Optimus’s frame.
Before he had been invited to participate, Ratchet had made a mile-long mental list of where and how Ironhide touched his partner, and how Optimus reacted. For being the indomitable leader of the Autobots, Optimus eagerly let himself be overtaken by Ironhide’s sheer strength and dominance, lost in a haze of pleasure both from Ironhide’s wandering hands and the massive cock splitting him open.
After all he had observed, there was one specific wire Ratchet set as his target. With all the confidence as if Ratchet had a lifetime of experience exploring Optimus’s body, he dipped fingers into the gaps of hip armor and plucked a blue wire from its depths. He tugged hard. The effect was immediate.
An electronic moan, warbling like his voice glitched out, issued from Optimus’s vocalizer and his thighs fell open. A gush of fluids trickled from the puffy lips of his valve, a mix of the Prime’s own fluids and Ironhide’s which he had been sure to spill deep in the Prime earlier.
Ratchet was taken aback by how easily the hulking form of the Autobot leader came undone beneath him.
“Well, are you just going to stare at it, or will you accept the invitation?” Ironhide moved forward towards Optimus’s hip and reached to scoop the spilled load onto his fingers before stuffing his digits into the waiting valve. The Prime’s voice wavered again with a harsh moan at the sudden intrusion, but his optics slipped close as the old soldier pumped his fingers deep to the last knuckle. “Did you already forget what I taught you? Do you need a hands-on lesson?”
Ratchet was momentarily stunned, mesmerized by Ironhide’s fingers disappearing between soaked folds. He nodded at Ironhide’s question and followed the soldier’s subsequent order to enter Optimus.
The thick, blunt fingers of his mecha slowly slid in alongside Ironhide’s, spreading Optimus wide and forcing a choked sound from the Prime.
“Good mech,” Ironhide praised his lover, bringing his free hand to trace glyphs over the Prime’s spark chamber. “I know you can take it.”
Ratchet’s own hands felt hot and wet from the neural feedback, submerged deep in the Prime’s valve, trapped between the convulsing walls and Ironhide’s own fingers which flexed and rubbed in a rhythm the medic was beginning to understand.
“Do you get it?” Ironhide asked.
“Yes,” Ratchet murmured. The medic was feeling heady with an overload of sensations being fed to him through the neural relays and the act of splitting his attention between two partners. He was so mentally overstimulated, it almost overrode the tightness in his own piloting suit. He shifted in his seat, trying to get some pleasure from the angle, and he inadvertently controlled his mecha suit to perform the same movement, hips bucking forward.
Ironhide chuckled, the medic’s movements not lost on him.
“That’s my good Ratchet.” A combined whimper met Ironhide’s audio processors. The Prime started first as Ironhide’s digits slipped free from his valve, only for Ratchet to take over in earnest. Ratchet’s voice followed when the old warrior nuzzled his face into the medic’s visor. He could feel the pressure and sharp ridges of Ironhide’s face as if it were flush against his own flesh, but it was the tenderness of the act which left Ratchet whimpering the soldier’s name.
Though it lasted several long seconds, the touch was far too fleeting for Ratchet. Ironhide was moving behind his mecha and suddenly its neural pathways were feeding Ratchet sensations all along his back and chest.
Scarred, battle-worn hands came around as Ironhide pressed himself along Ratchet’s spine. One hand planted over his chest while the other dove between the thighs of his mecha, but he might as well have been stroking Ratchet for real the way the pathways were feeding back into his body.
“It’s a shame this comes between us and your real form,” Ironhide groused. He bit into a shoulder and Ratchet shuddered. “I would love to see how your real body reacts to our touch. Flesh meeting metal. How beautiful would you look after Optimus and I finish on you?”
As if to accompany his question, Ratchet felt Ironhide’s throbbing spike slide between his thighs and the soldier wasted no time thrusting.
Overwhelmed, Ratchet found himself sinking forward until he caught himself with one hand at Optimus’s side.
“I agree with Ironhide,” Optimus grabbed his own spike and pumped it a few times before arching to meet Ratchet’s abdominal plating. His hips rose and fell, rubbing the length of his cock along the ridged armor. “I want to see how beautiful you’ll look when we finish on you.”
Ratchet had never held his mecha suit in such a position, effectively trapped between two behemoth aliens. The joints in his suit were making sounds that said repair was in the near future, but he was far more concerned and concentrated on the sounds made by his lovers, the thunderous roar of their internal mechanisms and the sharp shriek of metal as they rutted eagerly against Ratchet’s frame.
The medic could barely focus his hand on a rhythm and withdrew his fingers from Optimus’s clenching heat. His hand settled overtop Optimus’s as the Prime continued to thrust up into his abdomen and in between the rough, uneven thrusts, Ratchet managed to rub his thumb in brief swipes across the head soaked with pre.
It was enough to finally bring the Prime cascading over the edge, his voice and engine a roar, overload hitting hard as he painted Ratchet’s abdomen in thick ropes. His thighs shuddered and he continued to rock through the aftershock, smearing his fluids.
Ironhide wasn’t far behind, outlasting Optimus as he always did. Ratchet moved the mecha to clench its legs together and soon after Ironhide was spilling his load down Ratchet’s thighs.
With one arm wrapped around Ratchet’s front, he held tight to the medic, helping to ease Ratchet to lay on the floor between them when his systems cycled down.
It was in the relative silence of ticking and popping metal that Ironhide realized he hadn’t heard the human make a noise.
“Ratchet, are you okay?”
There was a drawn-out moment before Ratchet answered.
“I am.”
Ironhide quirked a scarred brow.
“You’re either very quiet when you overload, or you didn’t…”
“It’s okay, Ironhide. Mecha-to-pilot feedback is still new and unrefined. The sensations were there, but-”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
Ratchet grunted a confirmation.
“That won’t do.” With a groan, Optimus sat up and maneuvered himself to straddle the hips of Ratchet’s mecha. “We’ve taught you quite a lot today about Cybertronian mating, but there’s still plenty for us to learn about your species. Are you up for another lesson?”
After another pause, there was a hydraulic hiss as the cockpit opened, and Ratchet climbed out, already tugging the pilot suit down past his shoulders.
Ok ok ok so new fic idea that’s utterly brilliant!!!
Basically: Soundwave is obviously menacing and silently intimidating as a decepticon (duh) and he’s also the superior option out of everyone y’know. And by ‘con standards and his “cool/mysterious rep” he’s got a bunch of simps, like every single one of the Decepticons has at least thought “what if” at least one point or another
So cue each chapter having an amused/annoyed Soundwave + cassettes who find this hilarious (the twins) and/or disappointed in the Decepticons army as a whole (ravage) or secret third option (the others)
Then this is how I throw in Wavewave bc the fr superior ship, soooooo obviously Soundwave can tell when someone is hardcore crushing on him from how they literally trip over their peers tryna flirt (and failing) or smth else equally embarrassing but yall gotta remember that sounders is also a ✨telepath✨ so at times he’ll just be so done with hearing all the horny thoughts of his simps that he’ll give himself some quiet breaks with shockwave bc he only thinks about logical stuff (most of the time until Soundwave gotta stop him from doing smth reckless) and it’s actually kinda hard to read shockwave’s mind sometimes
Overtime they get more familiar with each other and eventually spark a romance and so in the end while everyone else is tryna shoot their shot to get into Soundwave’s bed, shockwave gets the satisfaction of being the one who gets to the interface with him at night! Who’s knows maybe I’ll throw in some heat cycle stuff to make things interesting among all the mechs, have them comedically fight or smth
BUT! I need some help bc the only competition (if they can even be called that lol) I can think of rn is the elite trine bc I feel like each of them would see the appeal and would be curious for how Soundwave is in bed and tarn bc bro seems meg-obsessed enough to stem his attraction to Soundwave from “you’re a noble devotee to the Decepticon cause” to “we’d be perfect together we’re exactly alike” or smth similar to that mindset (idk bro is insane)
I’ve already ruled out Megatron as a wannabe love interest bc I think it would be hella funny that he’s just lamenting over his ex relationship with Optimus while all this is going on with his thrift in command that everyone unanimously agrees is hot as hell
Inspired by a post I found awhile back about Wavewave personally screwing loudly to piss off simp-tarn(I can’t find it anymore for some reason🥲) and this:
💬 1 🔁 5 ❤️ 67 · Shockwave and Soundwave have their frags on their calendars with multiple months in advance so the mere idea that somebody
💬 5 🔁 27 ❤️ 129 · Thinking about how Soundwave is often a telepath, and how his tolerance for hearing insane shit must skyrocket
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 62 · I need to see Shockwave fuck Soundwave's lights out. They're such polar opposites like Shockwave is perfectly composed the
This idea won't stop swimming in my mind so I had to get it out. Maybe down the road I'll publish a more polished version to AO3. Excuse the bad grammar and structure, trying to get back into the flow after years of not writing.
Taking big inspiration from Run, Run, Little Cow! - TransformersFreak385 on AO3 and Artist: @TeaHeaD404 ( https://x.com/TeaHeaD404/status/1673425108373762064 ) Thank you both! ❤️
*This so far is based off of the Original G1 group. Others will be added along the way or left out depending on their impact towards the universe. Ignore the cyber verse Megatron picture, his appearance fits what's running around in my head the best.*
"That's it old boy, your doing so good." Spike praised, keeping the bull distracted with pets between his horns as the vet did the final snips on old Kup. Kup snorted lethargicly, the effects of the sedative starting to wear off.
"There ya go old fella, now you don't gotta worry about those moody carriers messing with you." The vet patted his patients knee, collecting his equipment to pack it up.
"How we looking doc?" Sparkplug walked in just in time, steaming coffee mugs in each hand. He handed one over to Doctor Arkeville, taking a swig of his own. It was the least he could do since the doctor agreed to come out so early in the day.
Arkeville took a sip, made a slight face, but continued. It was still early enough to where he didn't care about Sparkplugs bad habit of burning the coffee. "Kup's vasectomy went off without any problems, obviously. But, give him a few days before turning him back outside with the others. Poor guy will be sore." He finished up by giving the groggy bull a head pat, pulling away when the male swung his head around with those rather impressive horns.
Spike frowned, putting his own hand back on the poor bull, seeming to calm him. Kup nuzzled into Spikes hand, mooing rather pathetically. Doctor Arkeville wasn't partially liked on the Farm by the Cyber-Brahmin seeing as that every time he showed up there was always something going wrong.
"Are you sure you don't want to outright castrate him? On the house." Arkeville offered, a glint of revenge in his eyes.
"No, Old Kup's been with me since before Spike was born. Wouldn't feel right taking away everything from the poor fella, even if he don't have the drive for it anymore." Sparkplug took a sip from his own mug, looking over the bull laid out on the table.
Kup didn't really have it in him to do the whole song and dance with the cows. His libido had taken a drastic downturn, with only a few calves born two years back. This had left quit a few of his dairy cows now only trickling energon, which wasn't good for business. Nothing against the poor fella, but it was time to start looking for a new bull for the herd.
"I think his coming around." Spike helped Kup best he could, the Bull wincing as he sat fully up. The old Bull's eyes were still glazy, but he seemed to be focusing. His greying green tail swished in agitation as he focused on Doctor Arkeville. They made eye contact and Kup snorted.
"And that's my cue to leave. Thank you for the coffee Sparkplug, I'll send you my bill later." Arkeville handed back the half finished mug and grabbed his equipment before exiting the small room. It was an old tack room turned medical berth when Sparkplug had bought the property. It was in dire need of some upgrades, but with the lack of funds the past few years they didn't have it in the budget. Opening the door, a chorus of curious moos echoed down from the barn, cut off with its closing.
Hearing the others on the other side of the door was all Kup needed to come back fully. He turned to Spike and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, signaling he was okay now. Sparkplug put down his mug and helped Spike get Kup off the table, able to catch the old Bull as he stumbled.
"You sure your okay old fella?" Sparkplug chucked, trying his best to hold up the metalic Cyber-Brahmin. Kup snorted, ears pinned back at the implication he was weak. Despite his age, the bull still had some gruff in him. Kup used Sparkplug's shoulder to push himself back up, smirking when his weight almost buckled the farmer.
"Come on Kup, I know Ironhide's worried about you." Spike mentioning Ironhide, whom the Bull was most sweet on, seemed to perk him up. They were able to hobble to the door and exit back into the barn.
A half dozen pairs of eyes from the other side of the barn turned towards them as they exited. Front and center was a worried Ironhide, wringing his red servos and mooing gently. Kup perked up even more, leaving the humans behind to slowly make his way to the group gathered In the middle of the barn.
"What did that glitch of a Doctor do to you?" Ironhide took Kup's face into his servos, looking over the older male. Still having the sedatives worked out of his system, Kup didn't much care for how he looked as he nuzzled into Ironhand's warm hands.
"From what I understood I ain't the herd's bull anymore" Kup announced sadly. A few ears and tails dropped among the cows, others looked on with curious optics.
"What's that mean?" Hot Rod asked, arms crossed as he eyed the older Bull up and down.
"It means he ain't gonna be giving us calves anymore, ya brat." Wheeljack snarked, clearly exasperated with the young bull. The air in the barn was filled with disappointment, agitation, and an air of acceptance.
They all knew Kup had been having a hard past few years. What the Whitwicky's didn't know was that the cows had been doing most of the heavy lifting when it came to breeding. They would have Kup lay back and ride him until the bull came to completion, his back aching too badly to put up much of a receptication. This had left with many of them having to self service afterwards, leaving Kup feeling ashamed.
"It's probably for the best." Kup looked around, smiling sadly at the others. But Ironhide pulled him back, stroking the Bulls face.
"Don't be talking like that. Your still my prized stud." Ironhide smirked at the red that took over Kup's face.
"You sure his gonna be okay Dad? I can stay in the barn to keep an eye on him." Spike looked to his father as the Cyber-Brahmin mooed and snorted to one another, their speech lost to human ears.
To humans, they were just sounds the Brahmin made. Cyber-Brahmin were smart enough to understand human speech, but unable to move their mouths to speak the same language. After having relied on humans for generations, the once foreign creatures had become demosticated and reliant on their human owners. Despite the acknowledgement by all governments that Cyber-Brahmin were sentient, they were still considered livestock. Certain laws were put in place to give them more rights, but they still could not be trusted to be on their own. Maybe one day, but that would be generations beyond Spike and Sparkplug.
"I think Ironhide's got him son. Let's give them some space. Besides, now we gotta find a new bull before they come into season again. We can't lose another year." Sparkplug sighed, weary of it all. He was slowly turning the farm over to Spike, but still had a major part in the financial decisions of the family farm.
Optimus, whom Sparkplug had the biggest soft spot for, mosied on over to the two humans. All it took was a gentle moo and ducking his head for the farmer before he had the man scratching him behind a fluffy ear. Sparkplug obliged the cow, giving him a good scritch.
"Heya big fella, you keep the others cool and collected while we had Kup retiree the swim team?" Optimus tilted his head in confusion at the phrase. Even Spike seemed confused at the term his father used.
"Ah, right. Excuse this old fool." Sparkplug stopped his scratching and was now giving Optimus a serious look. The blue Brahmin straightened up, knowing this was a serious matter about to be discussed. "Listen big guy, I'm going to need you to keep the others off of Kup for a few days and treat him extra gentle. His had a rough day. And don't worry, we'll find you a new bull to tide y'all over while Hot Rod does some more growing." Sparkplug patted the older Cows arm. Optimus nodded, coming to understand now why Kup was limping and saying he wasn't the herd's bull anymore.
Seeing that Optimus understood, Sparkplug left with Spike, giving the group some privacy. He left the barn door cracked to let in the summer morning air.
Optimus's ear gave a slight twitch, staring at the two humans as they left. He rejoined the group in their little circle, some of the older Cows consoling Kup. Ratchet smacked a wandering Hot Rod's hand away from Kup as the young bull wanted to know exactly what happened. Especially if it was something he had to worry about one day happening to him too.
"His sore, leave it. Don't want it getting infected." Ratchet grouched, having some basic medical knowledge from his years on a lab farm before coming to Sparkplug when the facility was shut down for unethical practices.
Hot Rod pouted, making a show of rubbing his servos.
"Is that anyway to talk to your new herd bull?" Even Optimus had to snort at Hot Rod's claim.
"Sorry to tell you this Hot Rod, but Sparkplugs getting us a new bull. We've been over this, once you've grown another cycle or two you'll be with the heifers." Optimus explained, dashing the young bull's dreams. Ratchet ignored Hot Rod's sulking, pushing the kid to the side, so he could speak to Optimus.
"A new bull? He ain't turning Kup out to the slaughter house is he?" The barn went quiet, Optimus realized the others fears. A few had come from rather not nice places before landing on Sparkplugs farm. Lab experiments, government cattle farms, even a few ferals who grew up in the wilds only hearing of how monsterous humans were.
"No, no. Sparkplug and Spike would never. We all know Kup's been having a hard past few years." He saw Kup dip his head in shame, Optimus placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.
"It's time you enjoyed retirement old friend. And some rest. I'm sure Ironhide over there is excited to have him all to yourself now." A few chuckles were heard around the barn, others nodding. Ironhide's tail was swishing a mile a minute in enthusiasim.
Sparkplug and Spike would never. They always did what was best and spoiled them rotten when they could afford it. Despite their rather sheltered life, Optimus and the older Cyber-Brahmin understood the financial toll it took on the farm this year with no new calves and hardly any energon trickling from their udders. Small Energon farms were hard work with little reward for humans, but Sparkplugs and Spike preservered despite it.
"Come on, let's give Kup some room and go stretch our legs outside. Let us know if you need anything old friend." Optimus smiled at Kup, leaving him in Ironhide's care as he hereded the small group outside into the pasture through the back.
Despite Sparkplug having left the front barn door cracked, none of the Brahmin had the desire to walk through it. On the farm they were well taken care of. A warm straw bed to recharge on, energon sweets to nibble on in between mouthfuls of high grade alfalfa and daises. They were brushed, oiled, and buffed to perfection every month. And most importantly, they were allowed to do as they pleased.
No forced milking, it was their choice on it they wanted to step up to the machine or not. They were allowed to keep their calves until weaned. And most importantly, no abuse. Optimus couldn't have asked for a better farm for his little cobbled together herd.
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A few weeks later Sparkplug and Spike left the farm with the Brahmin trailer hooked up to their old beat up work truck. Waving goodbye to the herd lazing about in the pasture. A few friendly moos followed, their own way of saying goodbye.
The heat of the day was just starting to creep up, sending a few of the older Cows inside the barn to cool down, when Sparkplug and Spike returned.
"Their back!" Hot Rod announced to the herd, quickly taking a spot at the front of the fence to get a better view of their new potential 'bull'. No doubt wanting to see what he was up against.
The younger Brahmin crowded the front of the fence, leaving Optimus, Ratchet, and Kup to take on the other sides further away to get a good view. Sparkplug looked over to the fence, laughing when he saw everyone lined up, eyeing the trailer in curiosity.
A loud bugle and a smack against the metal snapped Sparkplug out of it and he quickly resumed what he was doing. Spike was walking towards the gate to the quarentine paddock, putting in the combination to open it and get ready for the bull. They had backed the trailer up flush against the gate, not wanting to give the new bull any room to wiggle out and escape before he had a chance to experience his new surroundings.
A loud clang was heard towards the back of the trailer. Clearly the bull was getting more agitated.
"Yeah yeah, I hear ya big guy. Give me a minute. The ladies ain't going anywhere." Sparkplug used his affectionate name for the Cyber-Brahmin. The bull inside snorted, still agitated, but now curious at the term 'ladies'.
"Alright Spike, watch it." Sparkplug opened the back of the trailer and the biggest bull Optimus had ever seen bulldozed out.
He was a dark black and grey sleeked bull with huge horns up top his head. A strong frame and muscular legs that were both mature, but still young enough to get the job done. And his optics. Glaring red like two blazing fires that burned into the back of Optimus's mind. His frame suddenly felt warm, and it wasn't due to the midday sun.
The bull locked eyes with Optimus from across the paddock, nostrils flaring. He eventually scanned the fence, looking at the others. Spike had clanged the gate shut though, drawing his attention away from the herd.
"Oh shit!" Spike yelped as he barely got the gate locked in time as the bull charged, horns sliding through the holes and almost catching him in the stomach. Sparkplug grumbled, clearly not happy with almost seeing his son gored.
"Stay away from him Spike, let the ball brain work off some energy before we get speared for even looking at him wrong." Sparkplug gave his warning before jumping back in the truck and drive off to drop off the trailer. Spike meanwhile wandered over to the Brahmin herd, still shaking slightly.
Ratchet and Wheeljack mooed gentle at the young man, offering nuzzles and shoulder pats from across the low wooden fence. Spike took the comforting well, having grown up under the watchful eye of the older Brahmin since he was little. When his mom passed a year after he was born, Sparkplug had been forced to bring the baby with him into the barn everyday. Ratchet had taken an instant carrier interest in the tiny human, coddling and keeping him close while the farmer worked. Then along came Wheeljack, doing exactly the same. Despite Spike almost being as tall as his father, he was still considered small in Cyber-Brahmin terms. Ratchet and Wheeljack's 'little squishy calf' as they affectionately called him.
Ratchet and Wheeljack threw disgruntled glares over to the dark colored bull, turning their back on the bull and walking along the fence line back to the barn with Spike. Obviously this displeased the new Bull as he let out a loud snort, hoofed pede stamping on the ground.
"That's him? Ha, nothing but spite and hate rolled up into an oversized package." Hot Rod snorted, his ears thrown back and tail swishing in agitation. Clearly, he had sized up the new bull and was not happy.
Optimus frowned and placed his servo on Hot Rods shoulder, steering him away from the view point of the paddock.
"Go inside and check on Spike. He seems shaken." Hot Rod was closes with Spike, the two young men were around the same age mentally and inseparable since they were little. Hot Rod wasn't always meant to be the herds 'Heifer Bull', he was a bottle orphan Sparkplug had picked up out of pitty for the poor thing at an auction. But Spike of course got attached and the bull ended up staying, the older man unable to bear the brunt of Spikes tear filled eyes when he had tried taking Hot Rod back to auction once older.
Sparkplug's heart was too big for his body. And his wallet.
Optimus, ever the diplomat, left Ironhide and Kup's side, approaching the quarentine paddock. The fence for the herd and paddock were separated by a few feet of open land. Enough for the herd to talk and moo to any occupant inside, but far enough to not catch anything. It was custom for all newcomers to hang out in the paddock for a few days, at least until they decompressed and had Doctor Arkeville give them a check up.
By the slightly wild look in this Bull's optic, Optimus didn't see that happening anytime soon.
"Hello, my name is Optimus. I'm the herd leader." He offered a relaxed greetings, trying to put the bull at ease. The newcomer eyed him, nostrils flaring.
"Cows aren't herd leaders. Where's your herd bull?" Optimus felt his ears shift back, clearly displeased with the newcomers choice of words.
"His back inside the barn, resting. I'm the one who looks out for everyone in the herd. I don't know where you come from stranger, but to us that's a herd leader." Optimus gave his own snort in retaliation, already feeling his resolve breaking of trying to befriend this bull. Clearly he thought little of others in the way he scrunched up his face and scoffed at Optimus's adittude.
"Brazen for a energon cow. My name is Megatron, and telling by the scent your throwing off, I'm your new herd bull." Megatron smirked as Optimus's face turned from blue to scarlet. His tail came up and protectively wrapped around his bottom, pushing his interface plating closer to his valve.
"Crass for a Bull. Keep that up and no one's going to want to be your friend." Megatron rolled his optics at the growled out warning. Something told Optimus that Megatron wasn't too worried about making friends on the farm.
"Why don't you go back inside and get your useless bull? I have some questions for him." Optimus felt his Dentas clench, a rather uncharacteristic action for him. There was just something about this bull that got under his mesh.
Not willing to have his whole day spoiled, Optimus did leave and go back into the barn. But he didn't let Kup know about the request. Let the fool wait himself out, maybe he would be calmer by than.
Later that afternoon, after a rather unsuccessful round of trying to milk the herd's cows, Optimus let Kup know the new bulls designation and desire to speak to him.
"Megatron? The name sounds familiar but it's been cycles since I was out on loan. Could be anyone's bull headed brat." Kup waved his servo dismissively. Back in his younger years Kup had been a rather sought after Bull. He had been mature, fertile, and pretty courteous to all the cows to the point he was requested back quiet a few times. There were a few farms out there with Kup's calves still galavanting around, all grown and leading their own herds by now.
"His rather prejudiced against cows leading and making friends. It makes me worried for the herd." Optimus confided in his old friend, ears dropped and staring at a piece of hay on the ground. It was getting rather late, everyone was bedded down, with only Optimus, Kup, Ironhide, and Ratchet still sitting in the middle of the barn on some bales. Too old now to sit on the unpadded ground and even attempt to get back up without help.
Ratchet was massaging his teat, hissing at the dulling sting. They had tried their best, but between them all the farm maybe only got 5 gallons of energon. A sad cry from their usual combined effort of atleast 30 a day. At this rate it was shaping up to be another bad year for the farm.
"I say frag this. We let Sparkplug know and have that idiot taken back to whereever the hell he came from. We don't have to take none of his slag." Ratchet huffed, sliding his platting back over his teat. Optimus didn't miss the winch he gave.
"Now now. We don't know where he came from, or why his like this. Let me go talk to him. Maybe his just stressed being in a new place." Kup slowly got up, waving off Ironhide as he offered to come. 'Bull business' Kup said, making the others roll their optics. While Kup was very progressive and fond of them all in one way or another, he still had some older beliefs. But he was good mannered and treated them all very well, it could be overlooked.
Optimus had just bedded down an hour later, sleep outweighing his determination to stay up, when Kup came walking back in. He was rather slow and seemed deep in thought, not giving the others much more than a nod before going to his stall to bed down for the night with Ironhide. Ironhide gave a soft moo, welcoming his 'Prized stud' back. They seemed to whisper for a few clicks, Optimus straining his soft downey ears to try and pick up what they were saying.
Kup seemed to end the conversation quick, promising to talk about it in the morning. Ironhide sighed before cuddling up to the older Bull, arms wrapped around his frame. Optimus turned and relaxed back down in the bed of hay willing himself to close his optics. Hopefully whatever the two talked about, it could help them come to a better understanding come morning.
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They did not come to a better understanding come morning, or the morning after that, or the morning after that. Megatron seemed even more agitated than when he first arrived a week later, posturing and flaring his nostrils at anyone that came too close, be it human or Cryber-Brahmin. Hot Rod had already tried standing up to the bull but his shouting was utterly ignored by the larger bull. Eventually Hot Rod quieted enough for Megatron to apparently throw out a rather deemining insult regarding the young bulls balls, sending him into a bellowing rage. Optimus still had no idea what it was and rather happy keeping it that way. Bulls were unnecessarily crass.
Kup still did his best though, every afternoon slowly walking out of the barn when everyone else went to bed down to go visit Megatron in the paddock. He told them that he understood why Megatron was the way that he was, but gave no excuse or explanation for the dark colored bull. Said it was Megatron's story to tell.
The Whitwicky's were at their wits end trying to placate Megatron with bribes of treats and brushing. The bull would just snort and show his back, or charge and give them a good scare. Sparkplug had all but given up, mumbling regrets and curses. Spike on the other hand was determined. Maybe it was youth and naivety, or just blinded suicidal behavior, but he tried befriending the large bull. Spike would slip rust sticks and energon sweets anytime he could when delivering the bulls food, giving a friendly wave, but the bull turned his back on the young man every time.
"I don't know why Spike keeps trying. It's not like his getting any nicer." Hot Rod gripped, servos clenching the fence as he glared at the bull over Spike's head. They spoke no words but Hot Rod's straight back ears screamed 'try it and I will end you'. Megatron of course rolled his optics and moved to the furthest corner of the paddock away from the human and herd.
Optimus sighed and rested his head on the low lined fence, racking his head for ideas. He didn't like it, but at the end of the day, they did need a bull. Their energon has all but dried up, all of them mooing sadly as the machines sucked at their teats, but we're left with not even a trickle left to give. He had overheard Sparkplug talk to Spike about getting Doctor Arkeville to artificially inseminate the entire herd, but that would put them in the red. If even one of them didn't take, that would put the farm into a lot of debt with no way to recuperate their loss. Sparkplug and Spike didn't deserve to have to worry like they did, they already did so much for them.
Grumbling in recognization of what needed to be done, Optimus waited until Spike went back inside the farm house and walked out of the pasture and back into the barn, and past the doors. He walked around the outside of the fence, ignoring Ratchet and Wheeljack confused outcries of why he was outside and going towards that blasted paddock. Optimus ignored them, they needed Megatron and they needed him now.
"Megatron!" Optimus bugled from the other side of the tall paddock, behind the safety of it's fence. Megatron turned, eyes blinking in confusion.
"What? How?" He quickly walked over, throwing his optics back and forth from the farm house to Optimus. If he didn't know any better, Optimus would have said Megatron was in disbelief.
"We need to talk, now." He snorted, not caring that Megatron's face went instantly agitated, a sneer on his faceplate. Both Cyber-Brahmin were pressed up against the paddock high fence, using the slates in between to stare each other down. Or rather, for Megatron to stare down and Optimus up.
Now that he was closer to the bull, Optimus could see why Sparkplug may have gone for the bull. He was rather impressive, even more so up close. His color was dark and shiny despite the multiple dents and weld marks marring his platting. Those horns only heightened his stance, tall, spiked, and menacing. Even his ears were black in color and quit impressive, able to stay propetional to his massive helm. And now those dark red optics, if they could put a hole through his skull, Optimus was sure they would.
"Go back to your barn, before your human masters realize youve escaped." Optimus felt his anger stall, but brought it back. He would ask later what exactly Megatron was implying.
"Sparkplug and Spike dont care about me being out here, what their more worried about is you not showing any improvement in your temper." He pointed an accusatory finger at the bull, feeling as what Megatron liked to call 'brazen'.
"Temper? I'm a bull. I don't know how potent your last bull was or that little runt, but that's all we are. Temper and bad attitudes. We breed and sire, fight off other bulls, and keep cows like you in line." Optimus rolled his optics. Not this again.
"I'm not sure what backwater farm you came from, but that's now how things are done here. I don't know what happened to you in your last herd, but we don't want a bull we're intimidated of and sees us as nothing more than breeding stock." Megatron scowled at Optimus's accusation. Instead of falling into the trap of getting into a fight with the cow, he turned his back on Optimus and snorted.
"Fine. Go back to your pasture, I hope your geststion tank dries up."
Optimus almost stamped away, but he didnt. He wasn't sure what came over him. Maybe it was how Megatron brought up his currently empty geststion tank. He was supposed to be half way to term with a spring calf by this point, tank fluttering as it slowly created new life. He wanted his damn calf, he wanted to help the Witwickys, and he wanted this hard headed bull to pull his head out of his own ass.
Turning around, Optimus pressed his aft to the paddock fence and slid his interacting plate out of the way. He was long past his heat, already having missed his window, but still, his unbred valve screamed wanting to be filled. Slick and pheromones wavered from the exposed valve. Optimus felt his tail swish anxiously as he tried to push his aft closer into the fence, giving a coy moo to get Megatron's attention.
It worked as the large Bull turned, snark dying on his lips as he saw the presented valve pushing through the paddock fence. He snorted, seeming to fight with himself before stalking over and roughly grabbing Optimus's tail.
Optimus yelped in pain before it drawled out to a low moo as Megatron twirled the tail between his servo. He felt a rather large hand slowly slide its way from his rump to his hip, giving his hip mesh a squeeze.
"Are you sure you want this backwater bull breeding you, little cow?" Megatron murmured loud enough to get through the fence. Optimus gave a needy moan, trying to entice the bull with wiggling his hips. The air was hitting his exposed valve where cool slick was starting to dry.
"Interesting..." Megatron murmured. Optimus was about to snap at the bull to stop wasting time, were they doing this or not, when he heard metal plating hitting hard compact dirt and a hot appendage dive into his exposed valve.
"Aa-moo!" Optimus bayed as a thick tongue explored his valve, lapping at the soft mesh.
Tail held in a vice like grip and valve being assaulted after months of self service, Optimus felt the world slip away as his lust took over. He pushed his aft as close as he could into the fence, pleading in his mind for Megatron to not stop. From the way the bull licked, sucked, and lavished his valve, Optimus really had nothing to worry about. The bull was engrossed, lost in the heavy scent of unbred cow. His grip on the blue tail never letting up no matter how much Optimus moaned and withered closer.
Satisfied with his work, Megatron gave the valve one last satisfactory suck, coming off with a loud 'pop!'. Optimus moaned, wiggling his hips to try and encourage Megatron back to lavishing his valve. But they had more important things to get onto.
During the lavishing Megatron had given Optimus to his poor needy valve, Megatron's spike had slipped out from behind his interfacing panel. The spike was covered in purple bioluminescent nodes, dark metal tapering up into quit an impressive size, even for a Bull. Optimus made the mistake of turning around, ready to pleade his case to Megatron about why they needed to do this, when he caught sight of the spike as the bull stood back up.
"T-that won't fit." Optimus was no stranger to spikes, having taken Kup for a few years now and birthed his own calves. But this thing, this was not a spike. It was a weapon.
"Why do you think I ate you out? I saw what that sorry excuse for a Bull was working with. It's a wonder any of you ever climaxed." Optimus felt his temper flare, ready to defend his friend. But his snapback died on his glossa as Megatron rubbed his Spike up and down his exposed valve, spreading the fluids. The hot metal against his sensitive valve lips sent shivers through Optimus's frame, trying to will himself to calm down before he overheated.
On his next intake, Megatron pushed in, having seemed to have been watching his partners breathing. Optimus saw stars as the spike pushed in, spreading his valve to a deliciously wide stretch. Optimus gave a rather loud moo this time, grappling to try and hold onto anything he could get his servos on. He happened to grab the fence, almost pulling off the spike. Megatron snorted in agitation, hand shooting out between the paddock's slabs and pulling the cows back into his Spike.
"I-i'm not trying to escape, I need to hold onto something!" Optimus cried, whimpering as Megatron's digits dug in harder to his hip plating. His thumb was stroking the mesh above his plating. Optimus wasn't sure if this was to reassure him or Megatron himself.
Optimus felt his vents open, quickly trying to dispel the heat from his heaving frame. It was too much too quick. How the spike was nudged deep into his valve, calipers clenching and unclenching around the engorged spike. He was wondering if this plan had been a very good one to begin with.
"Just relax little cow and let me show you a real ride." Megatron chuckled, snapping his hips forward. Optimus cried out, trying to calm himself as Megatron bucked into his stretched valve. The tool seemed to reach new depths each time on the thrust back in. Optimus moaned rather loudly, no doubt drawing attention to what was going on at the paddock. He could hear concerned calls and moos back from the herd, most likely unable to see what exactly was going on besides Megatron's hips snapping back and forth from across the paddock.
Hopefully the herd's call of concern were enough to get one of the Witwickys out of the farm house to see what all the fuss was about.
Seeming to notice Optimus's attention was no longer on him, Megatron snapped his hips even harder, rattling the fence. The slots kept him from fully sheathing himself into Optimus valve, but it would have to do for now. Megatron grunted and snorted, a bull possessed by one single primal instinct.
Breed.
"Prepare yourself little cow, let's see how brazen you are with my calf in your geststion tank." With a final snap, Megatron buried his Spike as far as the fence allowed. His trans fluid shot out, hitting the inside walls of Optimus's valve, thoroughly coating them.
Optimus saw stars in his vision and must have hallucinated. He thought he could taste the transfluid in the back of his throat by the sheer amount Megatron was pumping into him. Every time he had thought Megatron was done, another spurt squirted into his channel, sending a shiver down his backstrut. The hand that held his tail hostage slowly uncurled, now soothingly rubbing against his other hip. His hips felt sore from the hold and throttle, but his brain overwrote it to bask in the glow of the fragging.
"You didn't overload." Megatron murmured, seeming to be annoyed rather than ashamed like Optimus was used to with Kup.
"I-its okay, I can self-service." Optimus assured the bull, still trying to catch his breath. He winced as Megatron pulled out, leaving behind a dull ache in his now empty valve. Optimus was no stranger to self-service, he was just hoping that his plan had worked.
There was a thump from behind Optimus, before he could turn around to see what the bull was doing, servos still holding his hips, Optimus's optics shot wide and he bellowed as he felt that hot tongue return to his valve.
He was sensitive. Too sensitive. Optimus cried out, babling some nonsense about 'no, not there!' as Megatron sucked on his node as best he could from this angle. The cow bucked his hips, now starting to hate the paddock's fence that kept them separated.
"M-megatron!" Optimus cried as he finally overloaded, body convulsing as he tried to push further onto the tongue but at the same time trying to pull back from how sensitive it was. Megatron smacked his lips, seeming to find the taste of himself not too unpleasant. With a few last lovingly swipes of his tongue, Megatron pulled away and stood back up. He kept a hold on Optimus as the cow slowly came down from his overload, both seeming unsure if the carrier could hold himself up.
"I'm okay. I'm okay." Optimus assured as he grabbed the fence again to try and hold himself up. His legs shook, wincing as he slid his panel back shut, locking in the transfluid. Despite not being in heat, his geststion tank felt full and warm. He had heard of cows taking to being impregnated even out of heat, but Optimus wasn't too optimistic.
Letting go of the fence, he gently touched Megatron's hands that were still on his hips, pulling them off as he stepped away. Megatron let him, not kicking up any fuss. Optimus turned back around, feeling his face flare red at the heated look Megatron was giving him through the fence's slates. His tail swished back and forth anxiously, almost being embarrassed by how he threw himself at the bull. But, there was a reason he had to.
"You okay Optimus?" The blue Cyber-Brahmin turned as he he heard a new voice, seeing Sparkplug approaching cautiously. He must have heard the commotion and came to investigate.
The human was shifting his gaze from Optimus to Megatron, and back again. Almost as if trying to sense if he needed to step in. Not that there was much a human could do against a raging Cyber-Bull. The cow wondered how much of that the farmer saw.
Optimus mooed out in a friendly greeting, nodding his head and trying to have Sparkplug step closer. Megatron seemed to snap out of his daze, now realizing they had company. Of the squishy kind. The bull snorted, fighting with his instinct to stay, but also wishing to get as far away from the human as possible.
"Don't, please Megatron?" Optimus pleaded, turning sad blue optics at the bull as he saw the bull shifting back. That seemed to do it as Megatron stayed put, though he couldn't wipe the scowl on his face. One step at a time Optimus supposed.
"Hey big guy, we good? Do you understand? We wanna give you a home, we don't wanna hurt you." Sparkplug seemed to sense this was his chance to actually talk to the Cyber-Bull without threat of getting goured. Megatron grumbled, stamping his ped in the dirt. Of course the farmer wouldn't understand what was said. But the air become less tense and Megatron's stance softened as the Energon cow mooed softly, reaching through the fence to gently pet the bull's servo. Megatron sighed before looking to Sparkplug and nodding.
"Okay, let me call the doctor. He should be able to come out in a few days and check you over. Though I wish we had been able to do this before you got your mits on one of my Carriers." Sparkplug sent a disapproving frown at Optimus who atleast had it in him to look at least the tiniest bit ashamed of his actions.
Sparkplug walked away from the two, mumbling under his breath something about cows being as bad as bulls. Optimus watched him go for a few moments before turning back to Megatron, his blue colored tail swishing happily at the thought of getting Megatron out of there.
"Doctor? Why in the hell do we need a doctor?" Megatron's good mood was slowly trickling away, seeming to take offense in the implication that he was anything but healthy and potent. Optimus felt his tail drop, trying to reach back into the paddock for Megatron's servo. The bull pulled it back with an uneasy snort, but seemed to rethink it and slowly creeped it back down and took the cow's hand. Thumb soothingly rubbing over the plating like he had done before to Optimus's hips.
"Its just to make sure we everything is okay, and that you don't have something you can give the herd." Optimus felt foolish now as that reasoning also applied to him after today's events. He would just have to distant himself from the others for now until Doctor Arkeville was able to look at Megatron. The bull scoffed, still not seeming to like the idea. Hopefully in a few days he would see reason and calm down before meeting the rest of the herd.
"Please Megatron, try and be reasonable?" He pushed his chassis into the paddock fence so he could get closer, mooing sadly. Those big pathetic puppy dog optics Ratchet liked to gripe about seemed to do their trick as Megatron fell for them. The bull rumbled, pushing back into the fence to meet Optimus's chassis, wrapping his free arm around the cow's waist. The other keeping its grip on his hand.
"Fine. But only because as soon as I'm free of this paddock, I'm breeding you until you can't tell your geststion tank from your valve opening." That arm that Optimus had thought was wrapping around him all sweet like turned into a gripping servo on his aft, thumb flicking against his closed interfacing panel.
Oh frag.
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Thank you for reading! This is still under heavy construction and may even change once actually published. But for now feel free to ask questions as I flesh out what was originally just supposed to be a oneshot bumblebee mpreg dairy cow au lol.
not really a confession just a question, what is the exact definition for plug and play? is there any more terms i should know because all i know is valveplug and sticky interfacing (im so sorry my knowlegde is not very big on it)
From what I've gathered, valveplug is a rating, like the fandom's way of saying something is PG-18, NSFW, whatever the word is for "hey there's sexual content in this". Sticky interfacing and plug & play are ways for Transformers to have intercourse.
Plug & play is when the sex is not anthropomorphic like it is with sticky interfacing, but more robot-based. For example, connecting cables (literally plugging in), transferring data, or any kind of wireplay.
There are other types of non-anthropomorphic styles of TF intercourse too, like sparkplay (touching a spark or merging sparks), fieldplay (manipulating EM fields), and probably others that I've forgotten so TF nerds, do your thing !!
I really liking how this w.i.p. is going, I'M NOT DEAD LOOK 👀 Leaning into the robotfucker allegations 😂😂 I'm working on a bunch of different stuff, but I WILL be finishing them!
Uncensored on BlueSky!! link
Please follow my socials! Every like and follow gives me motivation to draw and post more cringe 💗💜💙
Keep pondering Hound/Drift and their dynamic while interfacing. My heart says Hound tops and takes such good care of Drift. But at the same time I cant help but think of Drift taking such good care of Hound while riding him.
Or actually. A HC of mine is that sticky is far more common than other kinda of interfacing because it’s the least personal. You dont need to let anyone in really. So. Imagine Hound tending towards sticky cause he can still keep up a facade but still taking good care of Drift during it. And Drift causing him to warm up to the idea of plug n’ play and taking good good care of him during that.
