Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'

Authors Note: I haven't updated this in yonks! I got a plot bunny by its cottontail and decided to run with it. Prepare for more stupid Mojo/Sam/Bee antics. And a lot of Optimus Prime humiliation as well (my speciality!).

Chapter 10

Optimus Prime carefully removed the dog slobber from Ironhide's naughty femme thing, placing it back under the black mech's recharge bed in the same position it had been removed from (and he tried NOT to look too closely at whatever else his Weapons Specialist had hiding under there).

Ironhide was none-the-wiser. He came out of surgery grumbling, swearing, and tottering on un-steady legs. Ratchet had asked him to wait until the sedation had worn off, but since when had Ironhide cared about something like that? He bounced off the walls and couldn't walk in a straight line, but he made it to his quarters, and rammed the door closed on the evil world that forced him to put up with the nasty deeds that continually happened to him. Like, say, Ratchet. Or rodents.

Next weekend, Sam's little house next to his parent's big house...

"I want to see one," Sam announced, shoving the last of the pizza he'd ordered into his gaping mouth.

Bumblebee sat on the 'Autobot' couch, staring at his human best friend as he fed himself. "Why should you see one when I haven't?" The Camaro was touchy about this subject. All of his friends (even Sam!) had experienced intimacy, and he hadn't. He'd never been with a femmebot. And what would it mean to Sam? Ironhide's thing was about female robots, not humans.

Sam cocked his head, wiping crumbs from his mouth with the back of one hand, "You want to see it too."

Bumblebee's yellow frame went stiff, his gears whirring, "That is not up for discussion."

"Whoa! Cranky robot, clear the room!"

Bumblebee groaned, "Sam, please. I know what you want to do, and it is not in any way advisable to take that course of action."

Having finished his load of oil and grease for dinner, Sam scrambled up next to Bumblebee, invading his couch. His legs dangled over the edge. "So? We'll go and raid Prime's room then. I'm sure he has one, and he's less likely to kill us than Ironhide is. We'll probably get a talking to, 'Naughty bot, naughty boy!', something like that."

"Sam!" Bumblebee squeaked, horrified. "Optimus Prime does NOT indulge in such activities! He will not have bad things under his recharge berth!"

"Bee," Sam turned serious, "Trust the human on this, I'm pretty sure he has one. He's a man, isn't he? Unless I'm, er, missing something here?"

Bumblebee squirmed uncomfortably, the doorwings on his back fluttering slightly, "He is a mech, Sam."

"Yeah, okay, mech then."

"RRRRrrrrr! RUFF! Rrrr! Growl!" Mojo's pint-sized bottom appeared coming backwards through the dog flap, startling the boy and Cybertronian. One of his skinny legs was sticking through the flap, flailing around for grip on the floor. Bumblebee was relieved. He didn't want to have discussions about things he probably shouldn't be telling Sam about.

"Mojo?!" Sam stared at his dog in disbelief, "What on Earth are you doing?"

Mojo kept growling and carrying on. He was trying to drag something backwards through his dog door. By now his whole back end was inside.

"What the – Mojo! Stop! No! What are you-" Sam suddenly slapped himself in the forehead. "Oh no, you've been next door again, haven't you?!"

Mojo continued to struggle with whatever he had in his mouth. It was obviously too big to fit through the hole, whatever it was, so Bumblebee; seeing Mojo's dilemma (Bee considered Mojo to be 'one of the boys', since the little male canine liked to hang out with them in Sam's special house); hurriedly sent a flash signal to the garage door.

Bumblebee called urgently to the dog, "Mojo, use the big door, it's open now, Mojo-"

POP Zzzzzzzz .

With one last jerk, Mojo fell backwards on his rump – one large deflated plastic pool duckie in his mouth.

"Oh crap... Mojo..." Sam said desperately. "I TOLD you to stop stealing things out of the Wilcox's pool! Didn't I?! What did I say, Mo', what did I say?! Mom will be sooo upset with you!" he moaned.

Grunting with effort, Mojo tottered and skittered over to the Autobot couch, and dropped his cargo at Bumblebee's feet. The dog smiled up at the Autobot eagerly. His tail wagged and his bottom weaved back and forth with it. Look what I've got for you!

"...Sam?" The Autobot stared down at the mangled expired duckie with confusion.

"Yes Bee?" Sam's shoulders sagged with resignation.

"Why is Mojo giving me a damaged piece of faded plastic as a gift?"

"..."

"Sam..?"

"Just be glad Mojo isn't a cat, or else you'd have a dead rat at your feet instead of a exterminated rubber duckie."

"Oh. Ick. Mojo, no dead rodents please. That's an order."

Autobot base...

Ka-BLAM! BOOOOM!

Ironhide smiled broadly at the missing target on his shooting range and lowered his smoking arm.

"Now that's more like it.." he rumbled, impressed with himself. Ratchet had made a few adjustments to his right cannon while he was sedated, replacing some of the ion igniters as a sort of Ratchet-sized 'thank you' for putting up with his surgery.

"Very good." Optimus Prime was standing behind him, his arms crossed over his impressive chest and his optics shrewdly inspecting the remains (or not-so-remains) of Ironhide's perfect shot. Sunlight shone and glinted off his finely polished red and blue armor.

His own rifle was attached to his back between his shoulders. After all the time he'd spent cleaning and adjusting it, he'd decided to try it out on Ironhide's fancy target range. The black mech wasn't the only one who got to blow random things up and whoop about it. Ratchet had sensibly declined the opportunity at a little mech-to-mech shoot-out contest. Who wanted to get caught between a manic Ironhide and smirking Optimus? He was a medic, not a rifle kisser.

"Hitting stationary targets is for sparklings." Optimus un-folded his arms and reached behind his shoulder, pulling out his intimidating rifle with ease. "When are these limp sparked targets going to move?"

"Move?" Ironhide lifted an optic ridge. "You want things to move?"

Upon receiving an encrypted signal from the Weapons Specialist, the twenty or so targets at the end of the range began to track themselves back and forth, up and down, and around each other in circles; making the job arguably more difficult.

Ironhide stepped back behind his Leader, waving a large indulgent hand, "So shoot'em, youngling."

As Optimus stepped up to his mark and began to aim (an act which on the battlefield usually sent Decepticons running in every direction and squealing for their female progenitors), Ironhide drawled one last helpful titbit.

"They shoot back too..." he stated dryly, leaning back against the wall of the shooting range indulgently as whistling shots of sparklers (painful, but not injury inducing, orbs of energy – like human paintballs set on fire) began soaring down the range straight at a surprised Optimus. "Better get a move on, smartie pants. Three hits and you're out."

"SLAG!" Prime began hot footing it back and forth, cursing, hurtling his own screaming rifle shots back at the targets AND the sparklers.

Ironhide barked with laughter. "Easy, my aft. Gullible bot. Shouldn't have bothered with the armor polishing, Prime," he snickered, as a sparkler landed on Prime's left thigh and made him yelp, hopping on one leg. And that was not the last of the hits either...

Approaching the base entrance, Bumblebee dimmed the loudness of his engine, hearing an enraged yell which was definitely of Optimus Prime origin.

"Oh dear."

"Hmmm? What's wrong, Bee?" Sam shook himself from his musing, sitting up in his seat. It was too early in the morning for him to be awake and intelligent. On his lap, Mojo was curled up and dozing. The boy flinched at hearing an intimidating male scream. "Holy shit, who the heck was that?"

Bumblebee laughed, revving his engine and spinning his steering wheel to turn himself towards the shooting range. "THAT was Optimus. Ironhide is playing tricks on him in the target range."

"Really?" Sam smirked, looking thoughtful. "If they're both busy blowing each other up, then..."

"Sam." Bumblebee sighed, bumping roughly over the dirt road. "NO."

"But, Bee, listen, we only want to get a quick look, you can scan it, right? We won't even have to remove it from the room. See? Easy! Please?"

Bumblebee groaned. He couldn't deny Sam anything he wanted when the boy said 'please' in that sparkling-type voice.

Bumblebee braked, skidding to a stop. "Alright, alright. IF Optimus and Hide stay out in the shooting range." Another scream. Yes, Prime was busy. "IF Ratchet doesn't show an interest in us creeping around the hallways. And IF – we do all this as quickly as possible and leave everything as we found it."

"Yeah, yeah!" Sam's head bounced eagerly, nodding. "Let's do it!"

Mojo sat up in Sam's lap, and barked. He didn't care what they were doing, as long as he got to run around and play. Bumblebee spun his steering wheel again, this time in the opposite direction, heading back to the base. He was terrified and excited at the same time. He really wanted to see one of those contraband femmebot datapads, and he was glad of having Sam's help – or at least a fellow conspirator to get in trouble with if they were found out. It was never fun to get punished alone... Sunstreaker had taught him that!

Ratchet's medbay...

The CMO had re-arranged his tool wall several times already. Each item was cleaned, polished, checked over for maintenance, and placed in its correct position on the surgery wall. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. No, no; perhaps the circular saws were best on the right-hand side of the wall, and the angular scalpels would be better placed – he paused, looking behind himself.

He could've sworn someone just crept past the medbay entrance. Or several someone's. Had Ironhide blown several bits off of Optimus and was trying to escape punishment by hiding?

He looked again.

Nope. He shrugged and went back to his maintenance. Okay then, the surgical saw's should be on the right, and the-

"BARK!"

Ratchet spun around, his hands spread out and ready. Mojo was standing in the doorway, his miniscule tail wagging a big hello to his favourite Transformer friend.

Mojo's ears twitched, and he panted, "Urf?"

"Mojo!" Ratchet smiled, "I didn't know you were coming today! Hang on a second, I think I still have some treats left over-"

"Mojo, no!" Sam whispered harshly, cursing, snatching up his dog and racing out of the medbay.

"Keep him quiet, Sam!" Bumblebee's voice.

The medbay went quiet again. No Mojo, no Sam, no Bee. Ratchet stared up at the ceiling, muttering. Whatever. Strange lot those ones.

Outside Ironhide's room...

"Hurry, Bumblebee!" Sam crouched behind his friend, waiting while the Camaro tried to open the door.

Bumblebee was tense, concentrating, tapping away at the keypad on the doorframe. Ironhide's door was locked and encrypted. Nothing was ever easy or a pushover when it came to the intimidating black mech. His speciality may have been weapons, but he was damn good at keeping locked doors closed, too. Bee wouldn't have been surprised if small machine guns popped up and started spraying him and Sam with rounds of bullets if he managed to trip the alarm system attached to the keypad.

Another minute more, and Bumblebee was ready to give up. He clenched his fists. His thick feet creaked on the floor as he shifted his weight. "I can't get in. It's too complex. I'd need to route the signals through the base's main computer, and that would leave a data trail naming me as the hacker."

"No way..." Sam whispered. He looked up and down the hallway. "Let's try Prime's room then."

"Sam!" Bumblebee crouched down, hissing, "We cannot break into Optimus' quarters! That is an inconceivably horrible thing to imagine for any Autobot!"

"Yeah, but..." Sam smirked. "It looks like he left his door open..." The boy pointed a finger at the last door in the hallway. It appeared to be open just a smidgen. There was a small crack of 'blackness' that wasn't as black as the surrounding wall and door.

"Oh." Bumblebee blinked his optic covers. "I don't think so..."

"C'mon!" Sam hitched the hood of his sweater jacket over his head, crouched over and took long creeping steps down the hallway.

"Primus, we are so dead. I'm going to be dismantled," Bumblebee moaned, covering his face with his hands while following after the boy.

"Hurry, Bee!" Sam hissed. "It's open!"

The yellow Autobot halted in front of the door, his optics fuzzing over. "Sam, we can't!"

"Bumblebee, we can!" Sam nudged at the massive door with his hands, straining to move it aside. Mojo had managed to squeeze through the crack already. Now their fate was sealed. They had to retrieve Mojo.

Whining with distress – but curious to see what Prime's room was like, too – Bumblebee gave in and helped slide the door open while scanning down the hallway to check if anyone was coming. They'd hear Optimus or Ironhide coming from a mile away, those two were never silent. Ratchet, though... he could creep silently with the best of the Autobot trackers.

"Oh, hey. Neat. So this is where the Bossbot hangs out." Sam stood with his hands on his hips, staring around the room.

The room was dimly lit by automatic lights left at whatever setting Optimus had last used them at. A huge flat bed (what the Autobots referred to as a 'recharge berth') dominated the room. This was to be expected since Optimus was one huge robot. A long desk with an accompanying chair was set against the left wall, and decorating the walls were some curious-looking metal discs. Some silver, others grey, and one translucent. Pictures or something?, Sam mused, looking up open-mouthed. He'd have to ask Bee later. Optimus certainly didn't seem to have posters of naked female robots on HIS walls... unless that's what the strange discs were?

There was a large window in the far wall, but Sam already knew it was a hologram of what the outside view was like. Ironhide had explained that having real windows like the humans did for their houses was a stupid idea. Too easy to breech. Holographic display screens were standard.

Mojo was 'ruffing' to himself and exploring around under the bed. He'd been in this room already. Ironhide had dumped him in it when the Autobots had done dog-sitting for Sam.

"Sam, quickly," Bumblebee was getting edgy, "look under the berth, you are shorter than I am."

"Right. Move over, Mo'!" Sam crawled on hands and knees underneath the overhang for the bed. Mojo was snuffling and pawing at a box which was half-open. "What is that?" Sam muttered, taking a peek. There were small glowing balls inside. They looked like... energon? Sam hesitantly pushed the box out from under the bed. "Bee, what's this?"

Bumblebee kneeled down, looking closely. "OH! I didn't know he liked those."

"Huh? What are they?" Sam asked, not game to touch the eerily glowing silver-blue things.

"Energon treats. Very rich and strong tasting. I don't like them much, but I guess Optimus does, since the box is half empty! Ratchet wouldn't be pleased. They mess around with the fluctuation filters for our systems." Bumblebee edged the box back to the position it had come from. He was feeling terrible pangs of guilt. They shouldn't BE here! "Sam, I really don't see anything interesting to us here, let's leave."

Sam shook his head, still looking around, "You keep a lookout then, I'll have a better look. I think there is-"

A small hissing noise signalled the door to the room being pushed open hesitantly. The boy and the bot froze in terror. Bumblebee looked horrified. Blue optics met wide human eyes.

"Oh shit..." Sam mouthed.

Someone was entering the room!

NEXT: Have the naughty boys been discovered by Optimus? Will there be; A) A spanking? B) A shooting? or C) General chaos with shooting, spanking AND screaming? All coming up in the next chapter!