Feminine Troubles 4: Downtime
Disclaimer: Property of Hasbro. If you recognize it, it doesn't belong to me, and no money is being made.
Warnings: adult content in this chapter. Stop after the second section if you don't want to read it.
Author's note: I'm having a wee bit of difficulty coming up with enough Decepticons with something resembling a personality. I may have to start raiding Movieverse fanon. Also, I wrote a femmeslash scene for the first time. My idea of sexy, uninhibited Autobot culture kind of required it. They all boffed each other regularly when they were mechs, and only the hardware has changed. Because Free Love is the Right of All Sentient Beings, damn it.
The second bit here was inspired by a couple of the comments on this fic over in the meme. Um, adult situation, hit back now if the Gay with the Giant Alien Robots is going to offend you.
Now for some more crack, a heaping helping of smut, and a glimmer of plot. Such as it is, anyway.
Naughtiness Ahead! Go back now before it's too late! Unless you're into that sort of thing, that is.
Blitzwing was annoyed. Everyone was busy, mostly holed up in their quarters with illicit videos. The Decepticons as a whole were behaving more like a human frat house than an army. He was pretty sure Starscream was off somewhere getting shuttle nookie, TC and Warp had ditched him, and he seriously did not want to know what Astrotrain was up to. Pervy fragger.
Was he literally the only Decepticon not currently thinking with the wrong processor? It was like the lot of them had been completely taken over by their hormonal programming.
He had missed the confrontation with the Autobots a few weeks ago, where they showed up all gender-bent, but he had seen pictures. They were pretty, but they were still the same enemy as before.
Blitzwing liked to interface just as much as the next mech, and sure, it was often hard to get a decent overload in this place, much less any cuddling (not that a warrior like him was interested in such weakness) but this was ridiculous. The Decepticons were the most energon-thirsty, power hungry, vicious bunch of slaggers in the galaxy, and were they wreaking havoc on their enemies? Stealing massive amounts of energon? Blowing the squishies back to their stone age before they became advanced enough to be a real threat? Noooooooo.
If his next-door neighbors the Coneheads were anything to go by, everyone was so busy beating off to video of curvy chassises and well-maintained weapons systems over shiny armor they didn't even remember what planet they were on.
He decided to go for a flight. Maybe if he left the miasma of masturbation-induced fog filling the base, he could figure out some way to cope with being surrounded by perverts.
Elita One, Chromia and Firestar were meeting with the femme CMO about some Very Strange Things that had occurred recently. Optimus and a couple of his mechs had been on Cybertron for a short time recently, having come through the Decepicon's space bridge.
According to their surveillance, the group had made a direct line for the ruined temple of Primus, running into only minimal resistance from Shockwave, who probably hadn't been expecting them to be heading there, of all places.
Unfortunately the femmes didn't have much in the way of air transport any more, and they were halfway across the planet for this, but from what they had gleaned from surveillance bots and hacked Decepticon transmissions, something had happened with Optimus and the Matrix of Leadership. Details were sketchy, but there had been some kind of major release of power, causing watching optics to temporarily short out.
When the disturbance cleared up, something very, very strange had happened.
All of the Autobots currently active on Cybertron were femmes because they could get by with low energy usage. It had been that way for centuries. They didn't need nearly as much fuel as larger mechs, and were able to function with much smaller amounts of energon. All of the larger or less efficient Autobots were off planet, in places where there was more energy available. The Femmes remained, their small, efficient engines more suited to the hostile wasteland that Cybertron had become over the long ages of war.
Elita's group might be the only ones on line, but there were also many Autobots and Decepticons on planet who slept in power saving stasis. They were mostly in secure bunkers below the planet's surface, guarded by their respective factions. After the mysterious event at the Temple, all of the Autobot mechs locked in stasis had inexplicably transformed into femmes.
According to the medic, they were much the same as they had been before- same alt modes, same condition, but they were slightly smaller and noticeably curvy. She theorized that the disappeared mass might have somehow been converted to energy and used to facilitate the Change.
Nothing had happened to any Decepticon, as far as any of them could tell. Sleeping or awake, they were the same as always.
Optimus and his troops hadn't lingered on Cybertron, but had gone straight back through the Space Bridge. What pictures Elita's people had of the group- distant and blurry though they were, suggested that it wasn't only the stasis bound Autobot mechs who had been affected.
Elita wondered what else might have changed in that explosion of power, and why. More importantly, what would the long-term effects be?
For once, the Med Bay was empty. Everything was in order, everything was clean, and most importantly there were no injured bots or hypochondriacs bitching about their paint jobs being scratched.
The Decepticons had hardly made a peep in a week, and there hadn't been a single lab accident or human super villain or any other crazy slag in at least that long. It was wonderful. The med staff had been given a half-day leave and told to unwind. Wheeljack had finished testing some prototypes of her new project and presented a small selection to a cutely embarrassed Optimus Prime.
Ratchet and Weeljack were in a private room at the back of the immaculately orderly med bay, sharing a couple of cubes of mid grade and relaxing. They had toasted their accomplishment at getting their leader to accept the engineer's gift, and extracting a promise to use it. For the physiological and psychological benefits, of course.
Wheeljack stretched her arms up over her head, arching her back struts with a groan of pleasure. The luxuriant movement made her armor gleam in the lights. Her audience of one was amused. The medic smirked, and set her empty cube on the counter. "Well 'Jack, it sounds like you need some maintenance." Ratchet purred with a smirk. "Be a good femme now and get on the table."
The engineer obeyed with alacrity, and the red and white medic folded two extensions out from the underside of the table. They were a pair of stirrups that a patient's pedes would go into. They were designed to hold a mech or femme's legs up and spread apart. She grasped one of the other femme's pedes and fitted it into the rig, caressing the sensitive joints of her ankle as she tightened the straps around it.
Wheeljack's cooling fans kicked on when Ratchet repeated the action with her other leg, adding a little nibble to the top of her stabilizing struts. "Ratch…"she moaned in a husky tone of voice. "Do my hands, too."
"As you wish" the white femme said with a smirk. She uncoiled the medical restraints from the head of the table, and wrapped them around the wrists that the inventor eagerly stretched above her head and held together. She paused for a long moment, admiring the sight of the grey limbs stretched out on her examining table.
Wheeljack struggled a bit against the bonds, shimmying her winglets and aft along the smooth surface of the table, but found herself gratifyingly unable to get free. All the wiggling not-so coincidentally drew the optic to where her legs were forced up and apart by the restraining apparatus. The panel between her thighs was already hot with anticipation, and seemed to pulse in time with her spark.
Ratchet sauntered back to the foot of the exam table, hips swaying provocatively. "now Jack, you deserve a reward for not having a single explosion or injury during your last project." She took a moment to pose for her lover's edification, arching her own backstruts and running her sensitive medic's hands down her chassis, pausing briefly here and there at sensor clusters beneath the joins of her armor. One hand dipped between her legs, stroking at the hot metal. Ratchet retracted her interfacing hardware cover, and ran teasing crimson fingers round the sensitive edges of her anterior port.
"Raaatch…" whined the trapped engineer. "Aren't you going to touch me? You said I deserved a reward!"
The medic chuckled, her voice dark and sensual. "As if you didn't like to be teased. We both know how hot you get to see another bot being pleasured. Now, should I do this the old fashioned way, so do we try out some of those new toys you so graciously made during the last few cycles? She ran sensuous digits across the other femme's cover, and it retracted eagerly, the ports already dripping with lubricant.
A wicked smile graced the medic's features. " I know, we'll do both!" she declared brightly. She proceeded to find every possible hot spot that Wheeljack had with caressing hands and searching glossa, tracing sensitive joints and transformation seams. When she gave a playful lick to the other Autobot's port, the poor femme nearly arched off the table. Ratchet chuckled again and leaned over Wheeljack's chest armor to reach her mouth. She kissed the engineer, dominating her mouth and letting her taste her own lubricant, enjoying the taste of her own pleasure.
Ratchet slid down the other's chassis, kissing and teasing all the way. One of her hands slid a finger into 'Jack's posterior port, testing its tight heat and hot wetness. The trapped femme moaned in pleasure, increasing in volume when her friend's mouth reached her anterior port. She tried to arch her hips into the other's mouth, as that agile glossa teased her sensitive opening and then, torturously slowly, pressed inside.
"Primus, Ratchet!" Shrieked Wheeljack, as the other's glossa adopted a shallow thrusting motion. She squealed again when another finger was added to her rear opening, matching the motion of the appendage in her anterior port. "Oh, Ratch, I 'm about to…"
The fingers and glossa were suddenly removed from her openings, causing the grey and white femme to wail in disappointment, and writhe in her bonds. The wail turned to a gasp as something a lot bigger than Ratchet's fingers entered her posterior port, made accessible as it was by the apparatus that forced her legs up and spread.
Ratchet drove the long, ridged dildo into the other femme with slow, inexorable thrusts, going a bit deeper each time. " You did a good job, Jack." She said. "These are perfect to reach all those deep sensors in a femme's port." She returned her mouth to the neglected anterior port, keeping up the slow thrusts with the toy. She had hardly thrust her glossa back into the scorching heat of the valve when Wheeljack overloaded with a keening cry.
Ratchet gave her bound lover a little time to recover as her vents labored to cool her overheated frame. She removed the phallus from the snug port and placed it on a nearby tray, admiring the way its generous covering of lubricant made it gleam. With a wicked glint in her optic, she replaced it with a much smaller, oblong object, which she pushed into the now-empty port.
"Now lets try something a bit different, shall we?" She asked. As the medic turned to leave the supine femme, the object began to vibrate softly.
"Oh Raaaaaaaatch…"the captive moaned. "Where are you going? You haven't even overloaded yet…"
"Don't you worry about that, my dear" came the reply. I just think we should test that other invention. The one we didn't give Prime. Too worried that it would freak her out." The medic returned to the exam table with a long, thick double-ended object in her servos. "I bet the femmes on Cybertron use these all the time. Imaging Chromia and Elita One, all alone on our home world, fighting the good fight, with no one but other femmes for company…"
"OhPrimus! Ratchet!"
The medic leaned back against a nearby wall, and started to slowly press the phallus into her own primary port. She moved it in shallow, gentle thrusts, stretching herself open with the artificial interfacing rod. "Just imagine if I still had my spike, Jack" she murmured, her optics at half-power.
Wheeljack found that she was trying to grind her hips into the empty air, wanting to be filled by more than the small, vibrating object lodged in her posterior port. She was still firmly trapped by the straps holding her down, and she wanted the other end of that faux spike in her port so badly it was painful. "Please Ratch, spike me already!" she gasped wantonly.
By this time the white and red medic had pushed the toy as far into herself as it would go. Holding it in place with one hand, she gingerly walked over to the foot of the exam table. One hand guided the artificial spike into the other femme's dripping port, the other came up to grasp a tense, softly curving hip.
Ratchet thrust slowly, inexorably into Wheeljack, feeling the pressure on the part of the toy embedded in her own sopping port. Her engine purred in a thunderous rumble as she began to smoothly thrust and withdraw, the double-ended spike shoved into her port stimulating sensor nodes in some very new and special ways. "Definitely a very fine job" she gasped as the rhythm of her hips began to speed up.
Ratchet's hips thrust authoritatively into Wheeljack's, pressing the artificial spike in and out of her constricting port with each movement. The other femme was grinding her own pelvis into the stimulation, moaning as her own engines roared. "Primus, just… a…little bit more!" She arched into the huge, hard presence thrusting into her valve, which was starting to spasmodically clench around it. "Ratch! Primus!" She overloaded with a shriek of pleasure, followed shortly after by the medic, who collapsed over her frame.
Ratchet chuckled tiredly and nuzzled the underside of her friend's jaw line. "Now isn't that better than explosions, Wheeljack?"
The response was a sleepy "Mmmmmm…yes Ratchet. Now untie me before I lose the ability to ever move again and you have to re-set all my motor controls. I just had a great idea for a new invention…"