Sun of a Gun
AN: THANK YOU GIRAFFECHAN and RAP BEAR FOR YOUR CONTINUED PATRONAGE!
AN2: Not sure if someone else has had a similar idea or not but this is my take on a unique situation. My readers should know by now, my mind goes in crazy and often times unexplainable directions. :D
AN3: Next week my elderly mother begins radiation treatments for a brain tumor, so I'm going to be really busy taking care of her. Then when she's doing better, I have to have a minor surgery and will be out of commission a couple days, so there may be some delays to my stories. Please know that I WONT abandon any of my fics. Promise! I'll update them when able, but can't give definitive time frame
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"Femme," the white mech ordered, slamming down a stack of credits. "For the cycle. Sturdy build. Good valve."
The slaver accepted the credits, optics glowing with greed and motioned to the hall. "Room two."
The white mech stomped to the door, palming it open to reveal a stand interfacing room, complete with props, punishing devices, and immobilizers if he was so inclined to incorporate them into his session.
He removed most of his bulky armor, placing it on the racks of a washing station. When he was finished satisfying his needs, he wanted to be clean and respectable.
The door on the opposite side opened revealing a reddish orange femme with black accents. Her build was stocky, probably a transport model.
Good.
He was rough in the berth. Aerial and sporty models were easily hurt by his brusque nature.
She was highly polished, with sparkling blue optics and long tapered fingers.
"My Lord," she cooed, offering a bow.
"Berth," he commanded, interface panel already priming. He was never one for romance and pointless seduction.
She obeyed, as was her duty. And she didn't have to wait long. Within seconds he was fully pressurized and settling himself between her thighs.
In most circumstances, she praised her client in physique, prowess, and pleasure they provided. But this mech wasn't interested in having his ego stoked so he could leave with his head held high and strut around like a Prime in a harem.
He wasn't looking for the simpering and delicate. Hence why he asked for someone with a strong back strut. And given the force in which he moved, she was glad she was a heftier model.
The gasps escaped on their own, the mech demanding and borderline brutish as he pounded her valve with an impressive spike. She didn't have to fake overloading with him.
Two keening cries and she struggled to make him stop, her valve sore and heavily lubricated with their mutual release, but the mech was not done. He pinned her into place, pistoning his hips so hard the pain translated into pleasure. Her optics rolled back into her head and with a shudder she came undone, remaining in a semi conscious state until he met his final end.
The discharge was enough to burn her feminine sensors. As burnt ozone filled the room, electric arches danced between them, him hovering above, so masculine, and brooding, she gloried in his possession.
Most mechs required an immediate reset after an overload, but not this endowed mech.
Though he provided a planet shattering overload, and experienced quite the overload himself, he remained transfixed, his spike fully extended and impaling her to the berth. Even if she wanted to escape, there was none.
His gaze dropped to her chest plates. Still holding her hands above her head, pinning her wrists, he allowed his chest plates to split, revealing his spark.
She squirmed, not wanting to merge energies, but with the call of his spark so close to her own, she had no choice but to obey.
Reddish orange armor split, revealing the pulsing white of her spark.
The light threw him into sharp relief, so dark, mysterious. Commanding. Deadly and erotic.
He leaned forward.
She answered instinctively.
Their sparks met, merging to become one and whole.
Electricity danced along their plating, waltzing between the mating frames, sending both into a system wide overload and reset.
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When she woke sometime later, the Pit fighter was gone, though his memory lingered in her valve. She pulsed and hummed, tingling all over, allowing his ghost tohaunt her mmory circuits for a moment. She felt so carefree. So light. So absolutely amazing. Her circuits still buzzed, the sensation of soaring among the clouds whispering along her relays.
The mech knew how to please a femme.
She would remember the encounter for the rest of her life.
Especially a few joors later when she realized he had left behind a little surprise.
Fatigue sent her to the medic and after a brief scan, the diagnosis was given.
Sparked up.
Not uncommon in her profession, however she knew immediately of the sire. He had been the only one to merge with her in almost a vorn. His energy, his coding, had coexisted with hers, generating a new spark.
Not having anywhere else to go, and lacking any skills, she remained at the pleasure house, offering her value to paying clients but refusing merges. She wasn't going to risk endangering the new spark that had been created by an unforgettable night.
Every time she thought about the sire, her sensors came alive with memory. And now she'd have a sparkling to remember him by.
She never learned his name.
He never asked hers.
They were not seeking relationships or long term commitment.
He had an urge. She needed to eat.
Thus their arrangement.
It wasn't ideal for bringing a new spark into the world, but she would make due. She always had. Though it was going to be much more difficult to pay the expenses that came with a sparkling.
But she decided to give it a try.
Maybe if she presented herself as a good creator, her owner would let her go and she could raise her sparkling without the influence of the pleasure house. Then again, she lacked specialty skills and there wasn't a high demand for single-creator transports.
Though she had some travel and hauling experience, she lacked any special talent, hence why she ended up in a pleasure house when she was unable to pay her debts. Her creditors had been paid and she had been earning her keep with the only currency she possessed.
Well, now her spark was off limits.
She wouldn't risk spark merges while carrying. It was too risky.
Her owner was unhappy with the news, and due to regulations, he had to make it known she was carrying to prevent overly enthusiastic males from forcing a merge and damaging her and the new spark.
He threatened to cut her rations if her clientele dwindled, but to both their surprise, she quickly became a requested partner. In fact, many demanded she act as if she already held her sparkling, finding it erotic to berth a femme displaying such maternal instincts.
Her value had been thoroughly exercised and her master happy with the influx of credits. Enough so, he offered to pay for her sparking when the time came, provided she remained at the pleasure house and attended her living sparkling for the entertainment of paying customers.
Thrilled at the generous offer, she agreed.
When her time was due, the separation pangs becoming too great to bear and her paying customer having to rush his overload so she could leave for the sparking center, she eagerly awaited the moment she became a creator.
As the final separation sequences began to allow the new spark to disengage from hers and take a protoform of its own, she wished the sire had been present. Doubtful he would want to be there, let alone know he had sired a sparkling, but it would nice to imagine him bursting through the door in time to see his new spark take its first protoform.
As was customary, she was surrounded by medical personnel and nearly two dozen new shells, waiting to be picked by a new spark.
The time came.
A spark pain in her chest, her spark flared as a super nova, and out popped out a tiny little silvery white spark, zooming across the open chest plates of empty shells. But after a few seconds, it sputtered.
"No!" she gasped, lurching forward, realizing her sparkling was losing energy in its hunt for a suitable shell.
Down the light dropped, a flash burning optics, and to everyone's abject horror, the light split in two and inhabited two shells. The attendants scurried to the two new younglings, lifting them up in shaky arms and presenting them to their carrier.
She stared as four pale blue optics slowly opened to view the world for the very first time. Though they had never seen their carrier, they recognized her instantly. Both offered soft chirps of recognition, their optics brightening upon their creator.
She held them, frozen in shocked horror.
Twins were extremely rare, and in every documented case they were highly unstable. Being half sparks created medical issues she couldn't afford, even if she redoubled her clientele.
Weighing her options, she stared despondently at the floor, her offspring curled close to her chassis, sensing her spark beat. The smallest one, its armor shading to a dingy yellow, reached up a tiny servo toward her spark, offering a pat of reassurance.
She vowed then and there to keep both of them. She may have to take on extra clients, but she would do what was necessary to provide for her younglings. It would be easier if their sire was involved, but she never knew his name, nor did he ever return. She guessed he moved on, being a gladiator it wasn't uncommon for the mechs to travel from city to city, battling in sport matches for sponsorship.
She wasn't even sure he still functioned. Given the unstable nature of the gladiatorial matches, he could easily have been bested in an underground arena, his carcass left for scavengers.
So their sparklings would be up to her to care for. She'd raise them to be the best at everything.
They would make him proud.
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Little twist there. Haven't written anything like it before so I thought I'd give it a shot.
What do you think?
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PS: Remember my updates are going to be a bit slower. Promise not to abandon any fic :D
