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Pt. 54: "gangbang"
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He knew them down to their cores after that first forced combine.
Unfortunately.
"Stop this," Hook said as he forced his jack into a clenched port that shrilled pain through an oversensitive network. "You're being foolish. What purpose does this serve?" Pleasure shuddered through him, electric bliss as his stronger, dominate systems pulsed charge through the weaker half of the interface, the greater voltage shocking Prowl in a way the Autobot couldn't enjoy. They knew he couldn't, because his pain, hate, and helpless rage cycled back through into Hook through the wide-open gestalt links.
Bonecrusher held Prowl's wrists down, half-crushing them into the table to hold him open and helpless to Hook as the surgeon hunched over in grunting concentration, energy rushing and rising toward the inevitable crest of bliss and resetting breakers. "Let it go," Bonecrusher said as he watched Hook. The wrists he held were bigger than they'd been before the stealthy rebuild, but they were still relatively frail. Compared to the rest of the Constructicons, Prowl was small. Weak. His circuits held a lower charge, his struts weren't as dense, and his armor was designed for silence and speed instead of brute strength.
Mixmaster held down one knee, keeping Prowl from kicking. Kicking wouldn't stop Hook or even harm him, but the point was to utterly control the Autobot. Prowl was a helpless victim to their brutal violation of him, and holding his leg down and spread wide emphasized who was in control. Scavenger held his other leg by the foot, hands nearly crushing it in his grip. Scavenger was the only one who hadn't attempted to reason with Prowl at some point. He kept his face turned away from their sixth unhappily.
Long Haul shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. The hauler had already had his turn plugging Prowl, the tip of his larger equipment jamming into the too-small socket despite Prowl's hiss of pain. It wasn't his first time taking their involuntary team leader, and from the cold purpose in the back of his spark, it wouldn't be the last time.
Hook overloaded, back arching and a tiny, quavering cry coming from his lips as Prowl suffered the harsh shock to delicate equipment that was never supposed to be abused this way. The way the Constructicons had abused him for months before they merged, back in the time before they felt what he really was and he'd seen down into them. They were Decepticons, and some of the worst of their kind. He'd seen that in their minds. They didn't regret raping him. They'd enjoyed having him in every way they could. He'd spent months under Bombshell's control, and they didn't regret what they'd done to him.
But they felt what he felt, now, the gestalt links blown wide open and every bit of pain and terror shoved into their minds as if they felt it firsthand. Hook stepped back from between Prowl's legs, mouth twisted into a pained grimace and visor refusing to look at any of his team. Long Haul reluctantly stepped forward to take his place, cable in hand no matter that he didn't feel arousal. The one being forced here wasn't Prowl. The roles had been reversed. They were the ones helpless as they were fragged against their will, and they quailed as he commanded them to continue.
He knew them too well to have mercy on himself, not if his pain meant revenge.
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