WANTON STREAK
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"I want a date."
"Don't look at me. I'm not a southern kind of bot."
"Actually, I was thinking the humans would be interesting." Sideswipe gave a noncommittal gesture.
"If they're desperate enough, sure."
"I'm serious."
"I'm surprised." Sunstreaker rolled his optics and continued to inventory his art supplies. He had to keep the list current lest his twin run off with colors and redecorate his teammates. Slagging Prowl and his 'pre-emptive thinking.'
"No, really. I want a date."
"Maybe you should put out an ad?" Sunstreaker suggested, thinking his brother wasn't low enough to do such a thing. He was wrong.
"Would it be classified as "personals" or "automotive"?" Sideswipe asked, dead serious.
"Hey, its your spike. Maybe you can find a nice Ferrari and settle down?"
"And leave you?"
"I'd welcome the peace and quiet."
"Funny."
"I try."
Silence fell for all of one full minute before Sideswipe sighed. "I need a date."
"Why? Other than the obvious?" Sunstreaker asked, finding the titanium white was running lower than what he anticipated.
"Spike and Carly mentioned doing a double date and it sounded like fun."
"You want to go with them?" Sunstreaker asked, now appalled. Just the idea of being near humans when they were initiating their mating phases was enough to drive him far into the hills for safety. The idea of willingly allowing them to 'make out' (or worse) while others were in the vicinity? No thanks!
"I thought a double date would be nice." Sideswipe gave a half shrug. "But I need a date to make it a double."
"You could always ask Tracks. He'll do anything."
"Gross, Bro," Sideswipe said, giving his twin a twisted look.
"And wanting a possible human for 'company', isn't?" Sunstreaker deadpanned, adding paint thinner to his supply list.
"Hey, I'm flexible!"
"I'm achingly familiar."
"Besides, humans aren't so bad. And it's not like we have a lot of femmes to choose from here on Earth."
"So you'd lower yourself to courting an organic?"
"Organics aren't so bad," Sideswipe said, his face twisting into a knowing smirk. "Or do I need to remind you about the organics on Tyverl that thought gold was the color of the Gods? Shall I entail all that was indulged…."
"Alright! Alright! Alright!" Sunstreaker snapped, feeling his plating heat with the mention. That was some fun times but he wisely held his vocalizer on the sordid details. He wouldn't admit to most things that went on, especially not to his twin who had been injured and unable to entertain many aspects of the 'culture exchange'. And Sunstreaker wasn't going to indulge his twin's twisted mind any further.
"So, want to help me find a date?" Sideswipe asked, that ridiculous grin on his face that meant he had more than one idea to his dilemma.
"Start with the society pages," Sunstreaker said, feeling his tanks churn from the sensations flooding the bond. Sideswipe was gearing up for some trouble, he could feel it! "At least the upper class know how to handle a fast model and can treat you right."
"Yuck!" Sideswipe spat. "No thanks!"
"Why not?"
"They act like Mirage."
"Point taken."
"I just want someone who can rev my engine."
"By pedal or spike?" Sunstreaker asked, the giddy feeling now molding into something burning and itching. Primus, Sideswipe was like an infection!
"Either, at this point." Sideswipe grinned. "So, are you going to help me find a date?"
Sunstreaker sighed, resigned to his fate. "What did I sign up for?"
"That's the spirit!" Sideswipe hooted.
A month later, Sideswipe was on the prowl for a date. Just about anyone met his approval but his brother held higher standards. Word got around to the humans that the Autobots were interested in building relationships, and that quickly escalated down into the gutter. Groupies lined up, fawning and crying out in euphoria when the Autobots passed. And now several dozen were camped out on the perimeter of the Autobot base.
Prime was worried.
"This is getting ridiculous," Ironhide snapped as he entered the command center in a foul mood.
"What are they doing out there?" Mirage asked with a sneer toward the cameras displaying the massive campout going on around the ARK. "When Hound and I were on patrol, two females screamed, threw their armor at us, and said they were willing to do things that I'm too scared to go research." Hound gave a blush in the corner but kept quiet. "Something lacey was thrown and made both of us run off the road!"
"What started all this insanity?" Ironhide griped.
The room went silent for a moment, then every voice lifted up. "Sideswipe!"
'Yeah?' Sideswipe said over comms.
"Do you have anything to do with this…. insane behavior from the humans?" Prime yelled, not bothering to open comms. He needed to vent and his voice could reach thundering proportions. He was still trying to understand why a human female wanted to know if she could play with his gearshift. He was a little disturbed. And vaguely curious, not that he would admit that to anyone. Thankfully he had been in alt mode and no one could see his pewter blush.
'Maybe,' Sideswipe answered.
"Get up here and explain or I will send you outside, completely immobilized and let the humans do as they see fit." Prime promised.
"Really?" Sideswipe asked, sounding hopeful. He sauntered into the command center, his face alight in happiness. He expected to be chastised by the command element, mainly a certain Praxian, but much to Sideswipe's dismay, the tactician was missing. His expression faltered as he looked for his favorite enemy. "Where's Prowl?"
"Med bay," Ratchet said, arms crossed over chassis and dirty look being graced to a Lamborghini. "Apparently a human female asked him to flutter his doorwings because it made her 'hot', and he crashed." Ratchet gave a small shake of his head trying to understand THAT little conversation. "Slagger hasn't had a good defrag, so I'm letting him reboot the old fashioned way."
"He's not the only one," Sideswipe said, sounding disappointed.
"So…. what started this insanity?" Prime prompted.
"It all started because I wanted a date and since there's no femmes, I went with the only females available," Sideswipe said as if it was the most logical thing in the world. He would have loved to crash Prowl again. Ratchet would have thrown a fit, but he'd weathered worse from the medic.
"You…. Are interested in a…an… organic femme?" Jazz asked, dropping into an available seat as his expression remained frozen. There was a chance he had locked up. Sideswipe was hoping for a matched monochromatic set!
"Just wanted some feminine companionship. Powerglide has Astoria," Sideswipe said, motioning toward the guilty plane who was blushing a soft pewter on his cheeks. "Tracks has Raoul."
"We are not together!" Tracks protested with a snarl. "Raoul is a male!"
"He's too… girly," Sideswipe said with a shrug.
Tracks opened his mouth to argue but shut it. Sideswipe made a valid point. Raoul could be too soft sometimes. Carly had a tougher exterior in most situations. Tracks frowned, making a note to investigate further into this anomaly.
"It's lonely here, with you mechs," Sideswipe said, motioning to the ARK crew as a whole. "Sometimes a bot just needs a soft, feminine voice and touch to make the matters of the war disappear."
Prime gave a nod. He could understand where Sideswipe was coming from. The only thing he had a problem with was how Sideswipe went about it. Prime was fairly open minded and it was like Sideswipe suggested. There weren't many femmes, even back home. Having been at war for so long, the mechs were rough, more basic, primal beings that needed the softened, gentle wiles of female attention. Mechs need the femmes to keep them in line, to remind them what was too rash and rude and to soften the hard edges that war had caused. Females were the balm to male souls that were cut by the brutality of existence. They were natural counterbalances.
Prime took a deep in-vent, unsure how he should rebuke Sideswipe, when Tele-Tran blared in warning of an incoming message. Frowning, the command staff, minus Prowl, stationed themselves at the main monitor and felt their engines stall at the ID ping of Megatron. Steeling themselves up for the worst, and hoping the Decepticons didn't attack while the base was surrounded by humans, Prime opened the channel to find Megatron's leering face broadcasting from Nemesis.
"Prime! What have you done?" Megatron shouted without his usual pleasant insults.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Prime said, perturbed at Megatron's riled expression. As far as he was concerned, there was no severe damage inflicted in the latest skirmish last month. Surely Megatron would have chosen a better time to vent his frustration at being foiled in his plans?
"What have you done to the human population?" Megatron roared, looking outraged if not for the phantom smirk that kept twitching his left lip plates.
Fearing the worst and confused beyond measure, Prime looked to Sideswipe, who looked just as stunned. Prime vented in annoyance before returning to regard Megatron. "Care to elaborate?"
Jazz frowned, wondering if the tyrant had captured some humans and were demanding a ransom. Wouldn't be the first time.
"You'll have to speak to the humans and fix whatever mess you created!" Megatron spat, smirked, then adopted an annoyed expression. Whatever had crawled under the warlords plating was frustrating and amusing him. It was a wonder the mech's helm didn't pop like a lid off a boiling pot.
"What exactly am I to fix?" Prime asked. Now he was beyond confused. Megatron didn't want to have anything to do with the humans and wanted Prime to remove them from the planet. Now the crazy gunformer wanted Prime to intervene on the Decepticon's behalf and mediate…. What? Peace? Ceasefire?
"Human females approached my seekers," Megatron said and back came that little smirk before disappearing behind a scowl.
"What did those flying idiots do to the humans?" Ironhide demanded, fearing the worst.
"You jump to the wrong conclusion, Simpleton," Megatron snapped. "These females propositioned my elite trine!"
"Propositioned?" Prime parroted, dumbfounded.
"I could only understand a small portion of Starscream's babbling," Megatron admitted. "The femmes offered to pet and lick his wings and made suggestions that once he looked them up, he ran to his quarters and locked himself inside, refusing to leave." He huffed a softened growl, his brow plates lowering in anger. "Soundwave heard whimpering and when he tried to probe Starscream's mind, he shorted out and all of his cassettes ejected amid chaos and are now currently hiding in the vents, refusing to leave the sanctuary of the dark confines."
"Oh? What did the femmes promise? Did you get designations?" Sideswipe asked in giddy excitement. He hoped ALL females were as susceptible.
"I don't know," Megatron admitted. "Thundercracker and Skywarp are both in the medical bay with break downs and had to be placed in deep stasis." Megatron's face twisted into a cruel mask. "Whatever those human females threatened to do has disrupted my command!"
"I…uhhh… apologize?" Prime said, not sure how to respond. This kind of situation wasn't covered in training to be a Prime. Even the Matrix was silent, offering no wisdom or guidance. In fact, Prime was sure it was hiding somewhere in his frame, refusing to be acknowledged until the humans halted their libidinous advancements.
"Well, see to it that it's fixed!" Megatron snapped. "We have a war going on here!"
The transmission ended, leaving the ARK command hub in total silence. Prime frowned, trying to think of a way to escape the planet and allow Megatron the chance to be a ruler of the insane world, but his processor hurt and he felt a twinge in his body that could have been the Matrix either cringing or laughing hysterically.
"No designations?" Sideswipe scoffed. He put his hands on his hips, his face twisted with anger and dismay. "Fragger probably wants them for himself!"
All optics turned to Sideswipe. Most were in disbelief. Jazz looked agreeable.
"So, what do we do?" Ironhide asked Prime. When Prime didn't show any acknowledgment, Ironhide snapped his fingers in front of the Prime's face to break his stupor.
"I don't know," Prime stated, not really paying attention to the conversation. He was trying to ask guidance from the Matrix but it was still under witness protection.
"We can always ask Prowl, when he wakes up," Jazz put in hopefully. He was very curious as to what could have terrified the Decepticons so thoroughly. He may want to use it in the future.
"Slagger's going to need the rest of the day, probably tomorrow too," Ratchet said, looking amused at the whole situation. He rarely smiled, but there was an aura of giddiness about him that was supernatural. Several bots backed away as a precaution. "By then, the population along our perimeter may reach an astronomical number."
"How do you figure?" Jazz asked, curious as to why Ratchet looked to happy. It was weird. There was no wrench in his hand and yet, no one recalled seeing him so elated.
Ratchet smirked and pointed a single digit at the main view screen, which had went back to surveying the perimeter. All optics turned to see two large buses pull up along the outside and belch out a steady stream of humanity.
"Primus." Someone whimpered.
"Now what do we do, boss?" Jazz asked, looking to Prime.
Optimus frowned, searching for any wisdom from the Matrix and after finding only hollow echoes as an answer, he sighed in defeat. "I'm afraid I am at a loss, Jazz."
"Might I make a suggestion?" Ratchet said, still smirking in a devilish way that had bots checking up on their current health status, lest they be whisked away by the Pit Maker walking among them.
"I am all audios," Prime said.
"Don't let the humans hear you say that," Mirage said with a shudder. "Unless you want your grill molested."
Hound offered a smirk that no one witnessed before schooling his features. He had nearly laughed his axels off when a libidinous femme had rubbed Mirage's grill in a way that had his engine revving despite his protests. The poor race car barely got away with his dignity. Though Hound did record the adventure for later blackmail.
"I suggest we give the human's what they want," Ratchet said, earning an instant sound vacuum that lasted all of five seconds before the room erupted in a cacophony of noise. He had to send one glare toward the assemblage to gain instant silence before he continued. "I say we provide a pamphlet, sufficiently embroidered with outrageous details, that will make the humans wary of starting any potential relationship, due mainly to the fact that the criteria will not only be physically impossible for them to accomplish, but afraid of side effects that may or may not prevent them from copulating in the future."
"Oh, mech, I see where you are driving," Jazz said, his grin spreading.
"A…what?" Prime asked, still trying to catch up to Ratchet's way of thinking. Prime's weren't wired to be devious and mischievous and most certainly, not promoting of interspecies intercourse that may lead to some disastrous results.
"We let them think they have a chance until they see the 'system requirements' and when they realize the size of our equipment, the severe electrical discharge, the public displays of nudity and ceremony, the mating rituals that require multiple partners, and the official 'blessing of the leadership', then that alone should deter any further stupidity," Ratchet said, looking to Sideswipe who was frowning, trying to keep up with the conversation.
"Wait… we don't do any of that," Sideswipe said slowly. "Well, except the equipment size and discharge." He jerked his head toward the minibots. "Except for them, of course."
"Hey!" Brawn barked, shaking a fist.
"The humans will think we will," Ratchet elaborated. "When they realize they could die from potential sexual contact, that should deter them to not pursue this avenue ever again."
"And if they do, then they are forewarned!" Jazz smirked. Oh, he liked the way Ratchet computed!
"I should have some suitable reading material available by the end of the day," Ratchet announced.
"Proceed," Prime said, not sure of the plan, but trusting his medic's opinion.
"Oh, can I help?" Jazz asked, practically bounding to the medic like a giddy youngling.
"With your twisted processor? Absolutely," Ratchet said, leading the way to Wheeljack's lab to use the main printer…. if it was still functioning.
By the end of the day, the minibots was handing out pamphlets to an eager population. The other mechs were hiding in the ARK, and though they knew the humans were intimidated by them, they wanted the minibots to show the act of 'good neighbor.' As Ratchet had guessed, as soon as the humans got the comparative diagram of the Cybertronian "male," their eyes went wide. Some fainted. Then the page of 'ceremonies' was read, heads shook, and as if on cue, tents started to be packed. Campfires were snuffed out. Vehicles packed with supplies and humans to full capacity, and just as fast as they arrived, they were gone.
All except one female, who tended a small fire and sat on a log humming to herself. A dusty minivan, resembling the ghost of Ironhide, sat under a tree. Curiously, the Autobots watched the femme through the evening and night. When morning broke she exited her car and started a light breakfast. This earned Sideswipe's interest. He snuck out of base and approached. Her face lit up when she noticed her company.
"Hello, handsome!" she exclaimed.
Sideswipe liked her immediately.
It turned out, "Flower" didn't mind the thought of constant nudity and body 'inspections,' nor thought the idea of Cybertronian mating with observers was a quaint idea. The 'interchangeable parts' confused her, but she said if they were willing to excuse her organic nature, she could overlook the cold touch of metal.
Sideswipe offered to drive his new found friend back to the city, but she insisted on 'roughing' it. When she asked Sideswipe where the nearest stream was to bathe, he escorted her to the place, and without embarrassment, she stripped to her protoform and jumped into the cool water. Sideswipe watched, intrigued by the human body as she swam and ran her fingers through her short hair. When she was done, she gathered her discarded clothes and walked naked back to her camp, where there was a strangled yell, followed by the heavy pounding pedes of a mech in retreat. Sideswipe noticed the indentations on the ground, signaling where a heavy body was running away.
"What do you say, we get away from here and the haunted wood?" Sideswipe said, trying to throw suspicion off of Mirage, who materialized halfway back to base, running full pelt.
"Sounds like a plan," Flower smiled.
"Let's go somewhere…. More comfortable." Sideswipe suggested.
Flower smiled, putting out the guttering embers and followed Sideswipe into town for their fist official 'date.' It was to be his first and last date.
A week later Sideswipe poked his head into the med bay.
"Hmm, Doc-bot?" Sideswipe asked hesitantly.
Ratchet sighed, putting down his polishing rag and looking over his shoulder to see his worst patient. "What?"
"Could you look at something for me?" Sideswipe asked in a lowered voice.
Ratchet frowned. Whatever it was bothering Sideswipe, he didn't want anyone else to know. This piqued Ratchet's interest.
"What?"
Sideswipe entered the medical wing, went to the berth beside the medic and laid down, retracting his interface panel. "It itches."
Ratchet quirked a brow, thinking the Lamborghini was pulling another prank, when he noticed the discoloration around the intimate array. He zoomed in and noticed movement. A noise of surprise came out of the ambulance.
"What….is that?"
"I was hoping you'd tell me," Sideswipe admitted. "I've been itching for the past couple of days. It's getting worse."
"I'd say," Ratchet muttered, using a magnification and finding hundreds of little organic creatures scuttling over Sideswipe's plating. "What exactly have you been doing?"
Sideswipe admitted to the whole sordid affair and after Ratchet stopped laughing, he grabbed a tub of gel and retracted a finger to expose a very sharp, chisel like appendage.
"What… are you going to do with that?" Sideswipe asked, aghast.
"I need to do a complete scrape and peel before applying an iso-balm," Ratchet said, looking like he was just granted the keys to the underworld.
"Isn't there something else you can do?" Sideswipe asked, sliding up the berth away from Ratchet's sharp digit as he neared Sideswipe's favorite body part.
"This is an organic infestation. It takes a full evacuation and decontamination, followed by a preventative gel to ensure no reinfestations," Ratchet explained, closing in on his prey. He loved to watch his patients squirm. Especially when he was nearing their intimate parts with such a sharp object. It gave him no uncertain amount of delight.
Sideswipe knew he had no where to go. If he wanted to get rid of whatever was plaguing his plating, he'd have to submit to the rough medical treatment. He fell strutless on the berth, closed his optics and grit his denta. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Shall I recount the details?" Ratchet asked, raking the sharp edge along the outer perimeter of Sideswipe's interface array. For his part, Sideswipe didn't yell or scream or curse. Most mechs did.
"I've learned my lesson," Sideswipe said through gritted denta as Ratchet raked another line along his sensitive panel. He emitted a pained squeal as Ratchet continued his excavations.
"Well, love is never easy," Ratchet answered, hiding his laughter under the screeching of grinding metal.
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WHY do I love torturing that mech so much? I'm sure there's a medical/scientific explanation for it. Heaven knows there's a label for everything else, so why not Lambo-torture? lol
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