= Sweet Vibrations =

By Ayngel

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers.

It seems like forever that I updated this fic, but I sincerely thank all who continued to read it and list, write reviews etc whilst I was off doing other things.

I'll try and make it move at a little faster pace from now on!

NB: I have changed the end of Chapter 3 a little so that it fits with this chapter.

Warnings: Adult themes, course language, implied slash.

Chapter 4

Hands on hips, Bumblebee stood before the mirror in his room, lowering his optics to admire once again his impressive new physique.

Not one usually given to vanity, the minibot was, nevertheless, extremely pleased with himself. The shiny black codpiece bulged outward, large and wonderfully impossible to ignore. With smug satisfaction, he opened his legs in a firm stance and thrust his hips forward. The result was most impressive! Squeeing inwardly, he turned sideways and viewed himself in profile. A satisfying bulge jutted forth.

Oh how much better things were than a few days ago! Already his secret conveyance into the mebay, the servicing of his 'equipment,' and Ratchet's stern face as the codpiece was welded into place were becoming a distant memory. And as for Ratchet's constant growling at Wheeljack as news of his 'condition' spread around the Ark – well Bee could actually laugh about it now:

"Whadya mean, Sideswipe strained his primary transformation ligament? Nothin' wrong with the thing last time I saw it!. No Sunstreaker's audios don't need a tuneup! The only tuneup they're gonna get is me yellin' in them to get the hell away from here. What? Powerglide? You can tell that pea brained showoff if he shows his wings off here then I'll have them off him an' on the scrap pile!"

And finally, Ratchet had lost it altogether and roared: "You can tell the whole lot of 'em, I know what their game is! An' I don't care if the whole Decepticon army's pulverizing the living daylights out of 'em, they ain't comin' in here!"

Bumblebee chuckled at the memory. Yes, he definitely felt better. Even the strange jolts an jars as Ratchet tested his 'equipment' under local anaesthetic block did not seem so bad. In fact ever since Mirage had arrived to 'collect' him and conceal his return to the quarters, he had felt a rather nice numb warmth.

"Keep an optic in him," Ratchet had growled at Mirage. "And keep that rabble a bay till his 'facing sequence goes on standby. And find him a first. And don't take too long about it!"

Mirage had smiled, pleasantly. "I can assure you when he gets the urges, I'll handle it!" he'd said to Ratchet. And he'd given Bumblebee a smile which had melted the minibot's circuits and left him hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mirage had already decided who his first was going to be.

Bumblebee admired himself again. Well why not Mirage? The Alphamech liked minibots. Had he not taken a shine to Cliffjumper? Well - initially, anyway, until Mirage ditched his cousin and Cliffjumper started that Traitor stuff. He'd been keen enough until then.

And he, Bumblebee, was better looking than Cliffjumper. Sunstreaker said so! Besides, nobody could fail to be impressed. After all, the codpiece was only of such proportions because of - the minibot swelled with pride - the size of what was underneath.

And Bumblebee couldn't help it. He had to gloat over it just one more time. With a quick listen to check there were no feet approaching, he unhinged the codpiece and removed it, placing it carefully on the berth. Beneath lay the translucent inner cover, of similar dimensions, and beneath that could be clearly seen the reason for the impressive outer array.

Bumblebee marveled at the size of his spike sheath. It jutted there, an extremely decent girth and although only a third the length of his fully extended organ. And it was hardly short in length either! Remembering what Ratchet had taught him, Bumblebee carefully executed the extension sequence, marveling at the way the cover parted and his spike slid out to his full dimensions. Once it was out, the minibot glowed with pride.

Once again, he stood in various poses before the mirror. If he let the thing point downwards, it came almost to his knees! He turned sideways and allowed it to protrude outwards, bouncing on the balls of his feet so that it waggled up and down. Magnificent! He didn't care what Gears– who'd come to see that he was 'all right' now that he had calmed down – had said.

"Well of course it's a whopper!" Gears had growled, when Bumblebee had been unable to resist giving him the news. "Didn't you know that us minibots are renowned for having more than our fair share of metal up front? What we lack in height, we make up for in ..."

"Is yours as big as this?" Bee had cut in, before he could stop himself.

"Of course!" Gears had snarled. "Bigger, actually!" But he had not offered to show Bee the evidence, and Bee suspected this may be a porky pie - although he did not like to think ill of his cousin that way, however much of a bad tempered glitch he may be.

There was a clang in the distance and the sound of feet approaching. Bee's circuits gave a twang. It would be Mirage! He said he would be returning around now.

A sharp burst of tingles, rippled across the minibot's sensor net. This could be it! Standby:the onset of the 'urge.' But much as he thrilled at the thought, Bee squirmed in embarassment. To approach his first 'experience' with his spike already hanging out like this would be sooo uncool. Especially with Mirage.

Bee's processor whirled as he tried to remember the retraction sequence. But, to his horror, his spike stayed exactly where it was! He succeeded only in making the cover over the other alteration to his anatomy, the deep port next to his spike, vibrate instead.

"Don't go touching that seal!" Ratchet had growled at him. "Get used to using that thing first," he'd indicated his spike. "You'll know what to do with the other when the right time comes."

The footsteps came closer. In a panic, Bee tried to stop the vibrations. But he couldn't - and now, to his horror, his spike was vibrating as well - in a way which Ratchet had insisted should only happen once you were 'doing it.' Stricken, any pleasant sensations departing rapidly, Bee looked around for the outer codpiece. But he'd forgotten where he'd put it. It was too late anyway. The door hissed open and before he could even cover himself with his hands, Mirage appeared in its frame.

Bumblebee froze. The spy looked at the minibot's large juddering spike and raised an optic ridge, a smile spreading across his aquiline features. "Impressive, Bumblebee!" He said. "However, such techniques are usually best reserved for a little further on in the proceedings."

To his relief, Bee managed to master that bit of the sequence which stopped the vibrations. But his spike was still out there like a silenium pole. Now, however, with Mirage right there, he suddenly was not so embarrassed; in fact, on the contrary, the tingles were back and Bumblebee didn't want it to retract. He liked it there! It felt stiff, hard, ready for action. Heat washed over him, rather as it had just before his primary cover had popped.

Bumblebee looked up at the spy, all blue and white and delicious curves, and felt suddenly shy. "It's great to see you!" he said, aware that his voice had taken on a husky tone. He took a step towards Mirage the idea of touching him both daring and absolutely thrilling. But Mirage held up a hand, placing it on the minibot's chest.

"No, Bee" he said gently. "No!"

The effect was instantaneous. Disappointed ricocheted through Bumblebee's circuits, and his spike drooped, the tingles dissipating as he was consumed with disappointment. He hung his head."You're knocking me back!"

Mirage put a finger under his chin and pulled his head up to look at him squarely. "I'm not," he said. "But I'm not your first, Bumblebee. Besides, that was just a preliminary twinge. The proper sequence hasn't begun yet, and there's still some glitches to iron out, are there not?""

Miserably, the minibot pouted. "Well when, then. And who?"

"I'm working on it. Now I want you to do what Ratchet said, relax and inject some coolant. Put that very impressive piece of equipment back in its casing, then later maybe some more work on the retraction sequence would be in order."

Mirage's face softened. "Believe me, it won't be long," he said reassuringly.

…..

The voice of the second in command barked stiffly down the com: Prowl to Mirage! Report immediately to Optimus Prime. Repeat: report immediately. The matter is urgent!

Mirage, who had hoped to retire his quarters after calming the minibot down, to contemplate his charge's future over a cube of high grade, came to a halt. Letting out a weary sigh, the spy reversed his steps.

"Now what?" he muttered.

As he made his way to the leader's office, Mirage reflected on the events of the last few days. He could not help but feel a little disappointed in his colleagues - he really had hoped they could control themselves better. Despite Prime's directions, Jazz was embarrassingly frisky and Prowl still had that predatory gleam; The Twins virtually had their tongues hanging out, Bluestreak had babbled on even worse than usual about the minibot. Even Smokescreen had longed suggestively in the recliner at the very mention of the subject.

Nor had Mirage failed to notice that Red Alert had installed an extra two cameras outside the minibot's room.

Of course, the news that Bumblebee now sported an impressively large codpiece didn't help. Although, Mirage thought with a glint of amusement, the size was justified. And those minibots ...

The spy's mind strayed to Cliffjumper, and he smiled to himself. Bumblebee unleashed for the first time could be a true experience. Maybe he should reconsider the position he'd stated in Prime's office ….

But no, Mirage thought, feeling a protective urge towards his junior team member. He'd said he would help him. Despite this display of newfound prowess, the sudden eagerness at the stir of his equipment, Bumblebee had shown the sensitivity of any newly 'popped' mech. He could easily become despondent, lose confidence if the mech wasn't interested enough or just 'used' him. He needed a 'sensitive' first, with some spark input, and some' followup' afterwards. Someone who would care for him, even be besotted over him. And after the way things had ended with Cliffjumper, there was no way Mirage was getting 'attached.'

Not wishing to revisit that episode, Mirage returned his thoughts to Bumblebee's 'first.' Who? Bumblebee had said. Who indeed? He wasn't letting any of that randy lot in the rec room loose; that would be far from satisfactory. Maybe another minibot; not his cousins, who would not hear of it of course, but maybe one from Cybertron ... somebody who hadn't had the chance to come to Earth, yet; somebody of his own size and similar disposition who would care for him as he ought to be cared for ...

Except Mirage couldn't think of anyone.

As he drew near Prime's office door, Mirage let out a sigh. Ratchet was right - Bumblebee's proper facing sequence would begin soon. Maybe Mirage would speak to Prime, right now, about bringing a minibot down. The leader prided himself, after all, in the normal course of things, on 'finding the best mech for the job.'

…

The Autobot leader was clearly unhappy. He sat at his large desk with his hands firmly clasped, a grim expression on his battlemasked face. "It's a bother, this whole Bumblebee matter!" he was saying. "Most disturbing!"

Mirage nodded empathetically. "Yes indeed, very disappointing," he agreed. "But don't concern yourself too deeply; after all, you yopurself agreed I was well qualified to take control. Now, I was thinking that maybe another minbot …"

But Prime cut him off. "No, no, no Mirage! Bumblebee's - er - first…" he cleared his throat, "is the least of my worries! Indeed - I agree – that alone, and the conduct of your - er - colleagues makes it bad enough ..." he flushed. But since we last spoke, something far worse has happened!"

He shook his head. "It has been brought to my attention that – Lazerbeak was in the area during the event! And I have the most horrible feeling, Mirage, a terrible sinking in my circuits that the bird may have recorded the whole thing!"

Mirage raised an optic ridge. "Well, Prime, I agree that could be a problem," he agreed. "You have to hand it to that bird. She's superb when it comes to unusual and revealing angles."

Prime nodded. "Exactly. And if the footage exposes what really happened …" he shuddered.

"Then the humans will never trust us again!" Mirage sighed. Though frankly, Mirage thought, they were so enamored of the Autobots that he doubted whether a simple mistake as had just happened would seriously lodge them from the pedestal. "Maybe you should just be honest?" he suggested.

But Prime looked at him sharply. "I'm not worried about them!" he said. "It's Megatron! Don't you see, we'll be a laughing stock. Oh I know the Decepticons get up to …" he winced, "things you and I would rather not even imagine! In public! But Mirage, as you know, I have prided myself on complete Autobot discretion!"

Mirage found it was unhelpful and rather distracting to think of Decepticons doing things in public. He kept his attention firmly on Prime.

"It will make us look like complete hypocrites!" the leader went on, getting up and pacing, anxiously. "Megatron will laugh at us. It will weaken morale in our troops, the humans will lose faith and the Decepticons could gain the advantage. Darn it, Mirage! they could win the war!"

Pausing, the Autobot leader shook his head, helplessly. "It's a disaster, Mirage!"

Mirage could not help but feel this was something of an overreaction on the part of the Autobot leader. Nevertheless, he nodded sympathetically.

Prime was looking at him. "I want you to go to the Decepticon base and retrieve that footage!" he said.

Mirage sighed. He might have guessed something like that was coming. It wasn't an appealing prospect. There was that blasted boat trip, for a start. Then all the hanging around at the entrance in the middle of the ocean until someone decided to go in.

He supposed, however, that it would provide a bit of excitement. Plus some fresh air on the way there, and a chance to think about Bumblebee's predicament - since further discussion on the subject with Prime right now did not seem to be an option.

"I'll go right away," he said.

But Prime was lost in thought, his chin in his hand. "What? Oh – uh – yes, of course, of course! Very good Mirage!" And he returned to his desk, still looking perturbed.

….

Rumble lay on the berth in his unkempt, smelly, darkened room. It had been two days since he wrote the poetry, two days of lying here, thinking only of his beloved. The longest two days of his life.

With a sigh, the cassette turned over again, changing his view of the portal and fish outside to Frenzy's empty berth and the dreary wall opposite. He scowled. It was all Megatron's fault, he concluded, for the upteenth time. If his new 'benevolence' towards the Insecticons hadn't resulted in a visit, and Kickback hadn't panicked in the confined space of the lift, and Shrapnel hadn't zapped the door to get them out, jamming it and causing the whole system to shut down, the Decepticons wouldn't have been stuck on the ocean floor for two days!

Not, of course, that he would are convey even an inkling of this to the Decapticon leader. And, seemingly, the incident had not perturbed Megatron at all. Autobot activity had been at a low ever since some obscure episode where some humans had panicked over some scrap Rumble didn't know the details of, and he'd been happy to have a 'break' from the fighting.

"We can't get out, but they can't get in either!" he'd gloated, despite Starscream's protestations that the Autobots wouldn't want to get in.

Well good for him! Rumble thought angrily. It was a calamity of the direst proportions for the cassette. Curse those damned bugs - it was them who only a few cycles ago had made Megatron go ballistic over their very presence among the Decepticons and started the 'talking to' about his 'state!' Now this! And to think Megatron had suggested them as a 'solution.'

Pouting, hating the universe, Rumble shuttered his optics. In the distance, shouts of laughter rang out. He grimaced. Megatron had decided that a couple of days 'R and R' might be in order, and he would take a 'lenient' approach to consumption of high grade and other 'pleasures.' The sight of his fellow Decepticons happily taking advantage of the leader's benevolence had only heightened the terrible knawing absence of the minibot in Rumble's life.

He had lain here, not wanting to go out, and not wanting to see Soundwave. His creator was, by all accounts, agitating about Lazerbeak who'd been stuck on land, and Rumble felt ill equipped, in his morose state, to deal with this. Besides, Soundwave was bound to mention his predicament again. And Rumble was in no state to deal with that either.

With a sigh, the cassette leaned over and grabbed the datapad on which were inscribed the verses of love. He re-read it and winced. The words which had seemed so alive and expressive the other day now seemed useless, hopelessly inadequate. It was no good! He could write no more until he'd gotten more - a confrontation, a shot fired at him, even just a look or a glimpse of his true love in the distance.

He looked at the datapad again. He could hardly bear the sight of it! Nor could he stand to watch the little holographic representation locked in the cupboard; the very idea of it sent pain shooting along his circuits and straight into his spark.

With a groan, he lay back on the berth and put his arm over his optics.

There was a noise outside; the door opened and Frenzy shot into the room. "Hey, bro!" The other cassette's demeanor could not have been more of a contrast. In a microsecond he was on the berth and bouncing on the end. "Hey!"

Opening one baleful optic, Rumble regarded him. "Wot?"

"Lazerbeak's back!" chirped Frenzy. "She swum here an' climbed in through a portal. An' you just wait till you see what she got. It's all happening in the rec room now!"

Rumble shuttered his optics. "I'll pass ..." he muttered. But Frenzy grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. "C'mon! Ya can't just lie in here the whole time. What's the matter with you anyway. Anyone would think you was in love or some stooped Bottish scap like that heheheh!" And he started to pull Rumble off the berth."

"All right, all right, all right!" Rumble snapped, shoving Frenzy away. Just gimme a minute!"

Rumble sat up, scowling at his sibling. It was only too obvious what sort of mood Frenzy was in. Not participating in this wasn't an option. Frenzy grinned. "They got out the premium high grade!"

Well maybe that might drown Rumble's sorrow and his terrible, unspeakable plight. He managed a half smile.

"Yeah, all right! I'm comin'"

…

The Decepticon rec room was filled with the aroma of oil and high grade. A loud hubbub rang out, punctuated with loud voices, raucous laughter and the clinking of cubes.

Rumble looked around, noting that nearly the entire contingent seemed to be assembled. A mixture of constructicons, triple changers, seekers, coneheads and reflector triplets lounged on the floor or around small tables or stood in groups, cubes in hands, exuberant in their card playing, joke telling or whatever story they were relating. A screen had been set up on the far wall, and next to it, a music device belched out that music Frenzy described as 'human rock.'

The cassette scowled. He was so much not in the mood to be sociable. "What is this?" He snapped at Frenzy.

"Movies!" said Frenzy. "You're gonna love it. Trust me!" He grinned at Rumble. "Just relax! I gotta finish setting up the display."

He bounded off, leaving Rumble alone.

The cassette looked around, noting an unusual level of camaraderie among the various factions. Even the insecticons were in there, he saw now. Everyone, it seemed, was getting on very well: there was shared laughter, a touch here, and stroke there, nips, kisses and every now and then, the blatant squeezing of an aft or a codpiece. Rumble watched as Spyglass climbed on Thrust's lap and proceeded to play with his helmet seam, whilst Skywarp ran a predatory hand along Kickback's wing and was assaulted immediately by the insecticon who extended his long glossa and stuck it firmly into his mouth.

"Slaggin' bugs!" Remembering the 'chat' and Megatron's suggestion again, Rumble shuddered. Spotting a table stacked with high grade, he headed over to it.

"Hey Rumble! Get your cute little aft over here!" It was Bonecrusher, a drunken leer on his faceplates. He was joined in the invitation by Scrapper and Longhaul, who raised their cubes and let out a cheer, soon echoed by Viewfinder and Spectro who were sitting virtually on top of them. Rumble ignored them and kept going, his spark heaving in dismay. How could he even look at these mechs let alone be 'affectionate.' He could not even think of it. There was only one mech in the universe …

Everyone was infuriatingly friendly. Rumble felt a hand on his aft as he brushed past Ramjet, who let out a flare of his energy field. The cassette shoved him off, angrily. Arriving at the table, he searched for the most potent looking cube he could find.

"Rumble, Rumble! Nice piledrivers, drivers …" Rumble turned to see Shrapnel lounging by the drinks table, a gleam in his red optics. As he looked on the insecticon gave him a lecherous wink, and two bolts of blue electricity made their way slowly down his antlers.

Rumble spun away, horrified. And then, the awful thought struck him: What if all of this was part of a ploy on the part of Soundwave to get him drunk, more relaxed, less fussy and more inclined to pick a source of 'relief?' He shuddered. Hastily grabbing the cube, he scuttled past the leering bug and made his way over towards Frenzy, who he could now see playing with a swathe of wires and plugs over by the screen.

On the way over, Rumble looked around. There must be some way, any way, he could find to slide out of here. But he thought no further. "All rise for mighty Megatron!" Skywarp's voice ran out.

There was instant silence, followed by the sound of chairs scraping and metal rustling as everyone scrambling to their feet as the silver leader entered, flanked by Starscream and Soundwave.

To Rumble's dismay, Megatron looked to be in an especially good mood – the sort of mood he would be in if some 'plan' had come to 'fruition.' "Please don't get up, my Decepticons!" he commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand. Even Starsctream, although lacking in the exhuberance of the assembled drinkers, seemed not unhappy. There was more scraping and rustling as everyone sat back down.

Lazerbeak, who flitted immediately across to alight on Megatron's arm, then, and Frenzy hauled a large chair across in their direction. "Don't just stand there, give us a hand!" he hissed at Rumble, who moved across and complied, his mind still frozen with the awful possibilities of what may be to come.

The bird chirped excitedly up and down. Soundwave nodded. Of all assembled, only he seemed relatively sober and solemn."Well, Lazerbeak! Are you ready to play the transmission?" the bird nodded.

"Very well then!" said Megatron, seating himself. "Let the show begin!"

To be continued. What happens when Mirage arrives?