False Prophet
Chapter 7
Sunder was famished; his hunger insatiable. Now that the intensity of the bonding ebbed, the clenching demands of his fuel tanks took hold. The queasy growls tickled. His mouth watered. Thoughts of food danced in his mind. Now that the feast was mentioned, the Autobot desperately craved food. “Sounds delicious.”
“Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” A smile spread on his face as optic contact gently lingered, then the jet carefully gathered the cords and scooched back to rest against the trunk of a sturdy tree. Sunder was beckoned to sit with his back resting on Wing’s chest. “We’ll still be connected through the feast- the rest of the evening, actually. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah....” The mnemosurgean responded, half distracted by the approaching worshippers carrying bountiful plates of food. His rumbling belly could hardly wait.
But there was a nagging feeling that something was wrong. Everything slipped into place like a picture-perfect story, but fairy tales did not exist. Sunder did not feel fair receiving this kind of treatment after the life he lived, but Wing thought otherwise, and feelings of assurance pulsed through the bond. Everything egged him to continue, to accept this offering- everything except his own processor. But wasn’t his own thoughts the root of his problem —just look what listening to himself resulted in?
Another loud gurgle whined and bubbled.
“Oh, someone’s hungry, hmmm?” The spiritualist cooed as the first offering was held out. “Bon Appétit!”
The first bowl contained slivers of red cyber strawberries doused in thick, yellow cream. Sunder reached out to accept, but Wing chided- the worshippers would do the feeding. Chopsticks dipped into the bowl, selected a berry, then brought it to his lips. His mouth opened, accepting the offering.
Sweetness danced along his tongue, along with a hint of tartness. The yellow substance slathering the red slices was cream cheese, adding a rich, creamy texture. What a refreshing combination! The mouthfuls were delightful to consume as they slowly disappeared from the bowl.
Congregation members approached one by one, and dishes disappeared one by one. Some were sweet, others were gooey. The adakite-stuffed cyber tomatoes were cold, while the Tuscan basalt soup was hot. All were scrumptious, and all were greedily consumed.
Any dribbles that spilled down his lips were quickly dabbed with a cloth. If Sunder grew thirsty, a challis pressed to his lips, pouring refreshingly sweet liquid down his throat. His optics narrowed. There was a slight metallic aftertaste to the liquid that tasted vaguely familiar. Where did he taste this before?
“Everything tastes to your liking?” Wing hummed, servos resting upon the other’s rounded belly.
“Yeah.... yeah...” Sunder smacked his lips, trying to peg the taste. The bitter and almost chemical-like flavor reminded him of something... “What was that drink?”
“Does it catch your fancy?”
“Ah.... it tastes.... familiar.... kinda metallic....”
“It's our own blend of ceremonial wine,” Wing explained. “What you are tasting is probably due to the copper and chromium additives during the distillation process.” The chubby belly was patted. “Is it not agreeing with you?”
“No.... just tasted.... distinct...” Sunder wiggled deeper in Wing’s comforting embrace.
“Well, any place that uses copper to distill their cyber-berry wine would also share that taste, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Ready to feast some more?” Wing alluded to the line of plates awaiting. “Looks like the main course is to be served, and I can tell by the sounds your tummy is making that you haven’t had your fill.”
Each dish was more delicious than its predecessor. Bite by bite, lavish dishes graced his palate. Cybersteaks that burst with smoky flavor, whose crust was a caramelized crisp, but the center was pink and juicy, passed over his tongue. Crystal baked potatoes that were loaded with rich, milky sour cream sprinkled with chives and diced ener-bacon slid down his throat. His belly happily gurgled, enjoying being stuffed so full of scrumptious foods.
All the while, Wing tended to Sunder as he chowed down. A warm feeling pulsed through the connection, feeding encouraging sensations. The priest was joyous, whether pleased with gaining a new member or the other’s eagerness to consume- Sunder wasn’t sure. But strong arms encircled the widened frame in a caring embrace, while sweet pleasantries were whispered in his audials, and the mnemosurgeon continued doing what made him feel good.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Wing’s voice coed, breath ghosting along neck cabling. “Eat up.... fill your belly with these offerings as you fill your spark with the wisdom of Primus....” Servos wandered over his growing frame, caressing in such loving touches and leaving a trail of comfort in their wake. “Do as I say and you will be greatly rewarded.”
The more food that entered his frame, the more that belly expanded. At first, the mesh pressed snugly against the abdominal plating, then bloated to the point of discomfort. Panels swelled outward, pinching the widening girth. Breathing heaved, becoming labored with each dish consumed. Huffing in exasperation, Sunder raised a servo, halting the flow of food.
“Everything okay?” Wing chirped.
“Getting full....” Sunder stifled a burp as his servos clutched an aching tummy.
“We haven’t even touched the desserts.” Wing pouted.
“My belly hurts...” Sunder grimaced. “Running out of room.”
“Nonsense,” Wing chuckled. “Such a big mech like yourself clearly would want some more, hmmmm?”
“Wanting more is not the issue,” He gently patted his belly. “Fitting more... is another story.”
“That’s easily solvable.” Wing gestured with his servo to the worshippers, then returned his focus to the growing problem. His hands sought out the tied knot at the ceremonial robes. “May I?”
“Ah... sure....” Sunder meekly replied, watching as those slender fingers made quick work of the knot. Once freed, the flowing robes spilled open, exposing that domed belly. Had he really consumed that much?
A pair of mechs gathered on both sides of the seated mechs, simple tools in hand. Gently, gaps in the plating seams were sought, the edges of the tools hooking in and gently prying to loosen the metal. The first give released some pressure, but more than a readjustment was needed. A second heft loosened the plating further, and fingers pried underneath, giving a final pull to remove it. Once freed, that soft protomesh spilled out, bouncing that rounded belly onto his lap.
“There we go, much better, hmmm?” Wing's hands immediately chased that chub, gently kneading and squishing it between his fingers. “Now, about that dessert?”
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