Fic time!
Time for a fic!
Inspired by camfield 'Breastfeeding Chronicles'. And thanks to camfield too for the beta :)
Title: Hello, Nurse
Rating: M
Characters: Soundwave, Hot Rod, Cassettes
Warnings: Implied slash (Springer/Hot Rod), mpeg, non consensual breastfeeding by giant robots...
Summary: Soundwave wants the best wet-nurse available for his Cassettes. Even if said wet-nurse is from the other faction and reluctant to comply with his demands...
Word Count: 3239
Sitting cross-legged over the floor, Hot Rod shook his head right and left and emitted muffled cries of protest as he felt little mouths latch at him, grabbing his exposed nubs and starting sucking at his fully expanded energon pouches. The two Cassettes pressed against his bared feeding pouches, Rumble and Frenzy, both emitted noises of pure pleasure as they started draining their fill of enriched energon. The young Autobot tried to buckle to dislodge them - a task rendered almost impossible with his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles firmly chained together - more than once, until two blue painted forearms laced tightly against his middle and gave him a squeeze.
Hot Rod couldn’t turn his head and actually look at the Cassettes’ holder, but he knew Soundwave was giving him a clear warning. Stop his useless but morally satisfying attempts to free himself, or risk something happening to the precious being that was growing inside him.
Fragging Decepticon…
Hot Rod stilled and sagged in his bonds, head dropping low as he shuttered his optics, signaling his acceptance. He just couldn’t take the chance the ‘Con would do something to his unborn sparkling. Soundwave gently caressed his stomach plates in return, as his arms locked the young Autobot more tightly against him, pressing the back of the captive youngster against his broad chest.
Hot Rod powered up his optics at a minimum setting after a while. He just couldn’t try and ignore what was happening to him, no matter how much he wanted. He could feel his fluids being slowly drained from him by voracious little beings who had no right, absolutely none, to use his pouches this way. The energon he produced was supposed to be for his future sparkling, and perhaps his lover, if he felt a bit kinky. Not for ‘Cons. Never for them.
Rumble and Frenzy nipped at him, licked the areas around the nubs, and never stopped feeding, taking their fill and even more. Dimly, further in the room, he could see Ravage, licking clean what had been a full bowl of enriched energon, as Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw and Ratbat still licked their own share in smaller containers.
It was Hot Rod’s own enriched energon they had consumed so greedily, to be precise; his energon, drawn from him with a breast pump. Hot Rod’s cheeks burned with shame and no small amount of rage at the thought, and he couldn’t stop himself as he bit deeper into the ball-gag inserted into his mouth to keep him quiet.
Funny, how Soundwave had warned him. Either he stayed quiet - because family feeding time was supposed to be a quiet and relaxing moment for all the participants, i.e. Soundwave’s own Cassettes - or he would be silenced. Well, Hot Rod hadn’t wanted to be quiet. It was a violation of his own body, what the blue Decepticon expected of him, and he had clearly made the point clear by starting swearing a blue streak, punctuating his litany of insults with demands to be released immediately.
So he got the gag.
But that didn’t mean he was totally mute anyway. He still had a way to ‘talk’ if he truly wanted, but there really was nothing he wanted to share with Soundwave, aside from more insults and swear words which would have made Kup blush.
Hot Rod forced himself to look past the colored forms of Rumble and Frenzy, who had comfortably installed themselves on cushions they had put on his thighs, and focused his optics on the set of bare medical ports across his side. Soundwave’s connecting cables were plunged deep inside, monitoring his systems carefully. Another cable was digging into a more specialized port, enabling him to discuss with Hot Rod on a short range comm link. The only one Hot Rod still possessed.
It was, as Soundwave as stated, a mean for the Autobot captive to let him know if he had any problem or wanted something. Whatever he wanted, Soundwave would do his best to make him comfortable and help him. But since he couldn’t hold his glossa in check and say anything other than asinine things, then Soundwave gave himself the right to restrict his communication.
He sent him ping and queries from times to times, as well as reassurance about the sparkling’s status and some vitals, but the prisoner hadn’t given him any answer.
Hot Rod had almost laughed at that.
It was so… incredibly insane.
In a few short orns, since his arrival to Earth, the red and yellow Autobots had learned he was carrying, had his feeding protocols and subroutines activate full-time, and endured more than a few lectures about how careful he had to be now from Ratchet and Kup and Ironhide and… and about every Autobot who was a tad older and more ‘experienced’ than him. Hot Rod hadn’t minded… too much. His mind had still been reeling from the news, but underneath, he was ecstatic. To be a creator… It seemed wonderful.
He had been relieved of most of his duties, but he still enjoyed exploring the area around the Ark. Earth was truly a fascinating place, especially for him, a ‘bot who had almost always grown up in Cybertron’s underground labyrinths. He wasn’t going too far, and he was careful, and he kept an almost constant contact with someone on base.
Then, surprisingly, during one outing, he had been ambushed, kidnapped by a very driven Decepticon TIC, dragged to the Nemesis (carefully; very carefully, in fact. Soundwave had taken no risk to injure neither him nor the unborn sparkling beyond a few scruff marks and a bad processor ache), locked in a berthroom instead of the brig, tightly bound with weapons and comm links disabled, and had then be told he was expected to feed Soundwave’s horde from now on.
Well, he hadn’t exactly been told right away. When he had regained his senses and managed to calm himself a little (which hadn’t been easy, what’s with the infamous TIC of the opposite faction looming over him), he had found himself being presented with a full cube of energon. A cube he had forced himself to drink, for the sake of the little one growing in him. Then he had been presented with a second, and a third.
Honestly, his tanks had been more than a little full with the second one, but Soundwave had forced him to drink the third anyway. Each cube had been laced with additives Hot Rod had recognized as supplements for the sparkling’s good growth.
It had seemed Soundwave had truly cared about the well-being of the unborn Cybertronian, so Hot Rod had managed to relax marginally. He had thought he had been brought here as a hostage, made more valuable become of the young life he was shielding.
But then, after a while had passed (just enough for his systems to have processed the energon correctly), Soundwave had brought out the pump. He had forced Hot Rod’s chestplates open, hacked his systems to force him to active his feeding lines, and then managed to extract several bottles worth of enriched energon from his struggling captive.
It had taken a while to sink in, but Hot Rod had eventually realized. The energon he had been given hadn’t been spare rations for a prisoner, no. He had been fed with the Cassettes’ own rations, and Soundwave fully expected his prisoner to give it back, and with interest.
Contrary to popular beliefs, a Cybertronian didn’t need that much energon to work right, nor did Carriers, even if they drank a lot in order to prepare themselves for the moment the sparkling would emerge. When a mech took a ration, what he drank was partly used for his immediate needs, but most of what he had taken was in fact deconstructed, refined and stocked in different small reservoirs. It formed a small reserve in which a starved mech tapped. It was also the way ones pouches were filled.
When the feeding lines were activated, the reservoirs all sent their trace elements and fluids into the pouches, where it mixed with the energon which usually circulated in the rest of the body, and expended the pouches, creating a rich and nutritious mix of fuel, suited for sparklings as well as grown mechs.
In clear, a carrying mech always produced more energon than what he usually consumed, and the more well-fed he was, the more he could send into his pouches to feed his sparkling.
Soundwave had fully counted on it when he had fed Hot Rod. Instead of stall middle grade or low-grade, his creations would be given the best enriched energon available.
There was a sharp nip on one of his nubs, and Hot Rod moaned painfully through the gag. Oh, the little slagger! He glared down at Rumble, who had stopped sucking and was giving him a toothy smile.
“This one is a keeper, Boss! Hadn’t had such a good meal since… Well, back when we were still on Cybertron! Tastes wonderful. I wouldn’t mind doing it every cycle until I offline” he added, licking his lips components with gusto before mockingly patting the pouch he had just fed from.
Hot Rod felt like crying, really. He was feeling more and more helpless by the breem, and he hated the way the smug little slagger was playing with his pouch. Damnit, why couldn’t he stop?!
Hot Rod’s vents worked a bit harder as he leaned a bit more against Soundwave. The Cassette’s holder had been gently caressing his abdomen for a while, but Hot Rod’s move made him pause. The Autobot felt him nearing his face, and he took a deep respiration with his vents.
:: … Soundwave? :: he sent tentatively across the restricted comm link.
:: Autobot Hot Rod. What do you desire? ::
::… Can you… make Rumble stop?... Please? :: he added after a few kliks, hoping it would prompt the Decepticon to act.
He felt Soundwave nods behind him.
“Rumble: stop playing with food. Alternatives: continued feeding, or leaving.”
Hot Rod thought he was going to choke. Food?! Oh, as soon as he was free, he was going to fragging beat them into a pulp! But Rumble pouted and nodded, before taking the nub back in his mouth and starting sucking again.
Frenzy stopped his meal briefly too. “Slag! The bitlet is going to be sooooo lucky when he’s born, to be able to eat it every day… ‘s unfair,” mumbled Frenzy as he attached himself again to a nub and started sucking anew.
Hot Rod almost snorted. Almost.
Across them, Ravage had rolled himself into a ball, and was now fast asleep. The bird-like and bat-like Cassettes had finished their own rations and were now either asleep themselves or observing the feeding of their ‘brothers’ with interests. The stares made Hot Rod flinch a little. And he was feeling irritated by how long it was taking for the two humanoid Cassettes to finish their ‘lunch’.
:: … Will it last much longer? :: he finally asked Soundwave over the link.
:: Answer: as long as they’ll want. ::
That wasn’t very encouraging, mused Hot Rod.
:: You promised me the sparkling wouldn’t be harmed if I cooperated. But if it continues too long, it certainly will not be good for him, :: he tried. :: Did you lie to me? ::
He felt Soundwave stiffen. :: Negative: sparkling’s further well-being: priority. ::
Yeah. Because if Hot Rod stopped carrying, most of his subroutines would go offline again, and even if he would still be able to breastfeed someone, the mix in his pouches would decrease in quality.
:: Really? Despite that, you let them suck me dry, :: answered Hot Rod with a tad more sarcasm as he had intended.
:: Occurrence: unlikely. Soundwave: will make sure Autobot Hot Rod is well-maintained. Cooperation: will ensure well-being and care for both sparkling and carrier, :: he added, gently pressing one of his hand against Hot Rod’s stomach, where he knew the gestational chamber reposed.
Hot Rod turned his head a little, embarrassed, but unwilling to move away from the touch. It felt… good. Reassuring.
:: You’re sure I’ll still have enough for my sparkling? They’re taking a lot… ::
:: Worries: unnecessary. Analysis indicates no decrease in quality should appear in the long term. ::
Hot Rod frowned. :: How… how would you know that? Have you scanned me? ::
A ping. :: Negative. Soundwave: merely sampled content of the pouches prior to the feeding. ::
:: You… sampled my energon? While I was still unconscious? :: asked Hot Rod, feeling vaguely sick.
He could just picture it in his mind. Soundwave’s face, pressed against his pouches, as his unresponsive body laid sprawled across a berth, the Communication Officer making faces as he tried to decide if whatever he was licking was good enough for his small personal army. Oh Primus, and if he had done others things to him while Hot Rod had been in forced stasis? What if he had tried to do something to the sparkling? What if he had tried to… touch him? Nobody would have known… Hot Rod grew more and more agitated.
:: Negative, :: came the sudden words over the comm. link. Hot Rod startled. He hadn’t realized Soundwave was also scanning him telepathically. He should have known, though. :: Energon: taken through a pump. Carefully analyzed chemically for ascertaining the ideal mix of components. Then tasted. Taste and quality: judged more than acceptable for my Cassettes. Intimate contact: would not have been appropriate. Unless Autobot Hot Rod desires so? ::
Soundwave’s hands lowered a bit, toward his panel.
Hot Rod shuddered in revulsion. :: No way in the Pit! I will never want you! ::
He felt Soundwave tilt his head behind him. :: Affirmation: can be challenged. Carrying mechs: well-known for increase of libido during some stages of carrying process. Autobot Hot Rod: will hit such a stage sooner or later. Soundwave: offering assistance should things become too much to handle. ::
Hot Rod was growing more agitated. He buckled again, trying to get away from the big Decepticon, twisting his body in an attempt to make him loose his handle. Frenzy and Rumble protested loudly. Soundwave just held him more firmly.
:: Autobot Hot Rod: should calm himself. Increasing of stress: bad for the sparkling. ::
:: Calm! How can I be calm when you’re causally telling me you’ll rape me! :: Hot Rod was on the verge of hysteria, now. Cleaning fluid was pooling into his optics, and he fought with himself to not start wailing.
:: Negative. Soundwave: will not touch if he isn’t invited to. Soundwave: unwilling to force himself on a reluctant partner. ::
There was a nod of finality in his declaration that calmed Hot Rod, just a little. Or perhaps the Cassettes’ holder was using his telepathy to force him to relax. Unless it was his systems which were acting up in order to protect the sparkling. Either way, he could feel his core temperature beginning to drop.
:: Why? :: he asked softly. :: Why me? Why now? ::
Soundwave was silent for a few minutes. :: … Cassettes: precious to me. Their well-being: always main objective. Nursing: procures pleasant sensations and comfort. Action: unable to be realized since leaving Cybertron. Most Decepticons: not in possession of feeding pouches. Feeding lines: often incompatible with military models. Those in possession: rare on the Nemesis. Potential enemies, too. Cassettes: in desperate need of something to cheer them up. Carrying Autobot: too much an opportunity to let it pass. ::
:: And so you kidnapped me, while I’m still not even at the half of my gestational period, to feed them? Until when? :: he asked with dread. It was something they hadn’t talked about yet, and Hot Rod really feared the answer. It was clear he was not to be terminated, so he would be released at some point, but there was no time frame. He knew Soundwave had no intention to let him go anytime soon, since Hot Rod’s feeding lines were making the joy of his Cassettes, but how long did he intend to keep him under hand?
:: … Until eventual birth and/or weaning of the sparkling. :: was the eventual answer.
Oh Primus…
Hot Rod started to shake. So long; so , so awfully long. He felt faint, and he felt upset, except… no. He didn’t feel much, surprisingly. But he definitely felt the presence in the back of his head, telling him to stay calm, that too much stress was harmful for his systems, that everything would be fine, that the sparkling would be fine,…
:: No telepathy, :: he managed to choke. :: Don’t want you in my head… ::
No answer, but the feeling in his head decreased. It didn’t exactly disappear, but if felt much fainter. Soundwave stayed crouched in the back of his mind, ready to forcefully calm him, make him feel things he didn’t really feel, in order to ‘protect’ the unborn sparkling… and his Cassettes’ precious meal ticket.
:: … I want my friend. I want Springer, :: the Autobot said with pain in his voice. :: It’s his sparkling. He should be here to take care of me, not you. He’s the one who should suck on me when I produce too much energon, not them. He should be here when the sparkling is born, and thanks to you, he will not be… Oh, Primus, and the emergence! How am I going to do it here?! ::
Unless he managed to be rescued before the time came for emergence, but there was no guarantee he would, and Hot Rod knew it. Soundwave seemed to have an answer all ready.
:: Decepticons: not barbarians. Carrier: will not be harmed if behaves. Various Decepticons: knowledgeable about sparklings and emergence. Hook: perfectionist, and able to handle an emergence alone, should the need arises. Constructicons: able to prepare the Medbay accordingly. Starscream: scientist, familiar with process, might be able to help. Soundwave, Thundercracker: able to act as midwives. Also, specialists: can be contacted and brought from Cybertron with the Space Bridge, if carrying process tricky. Soundwave: also willing to provide a live-feed to the Sire and Autobots to assure them of the birth of his creation and well-being of the Carrier. ::
:: … a live-feed… :: a few coolant tears run along his cheek. :: I want him here with me. I want him to hold me and promise me all will be alright. I want Ratchet, and Hoist, and First Aid to be here and help… ::
Both hands were gently rubbing his stomach. :: Demand: impossible to meet. But Soundwave: truthful. Harm to Hot Rod and sparkling: not intended. Care: will be provided as best as possible under circumstances. Desire: to make Carrier as comfortable and happy as possible until eventual release. ::
:: Then release me, :: whispered Hot Rod through the comm., feeling defeated.
Soundwave sounded almost sorry when he answered. :: Soundwave: unable to comply with this particular demand… ::
The silence was only punctured by the unmistaken noise of two mechs, still gently sucking the fuel, and basking in the warmth of the body they were settled against, and the sound of soft sobs muffled through a gag.
Inspired by camfield 'Breastfeeding Chronicles'. And thanks to camfield too for the beta :)
Title: Hello, Nurse
Rating: M
Characters: Soundwave, Hot Rod, Cassettes
Warnings: Implied slash (Springer/Hot Rod), mpeg, non consensual breastfeeding by giant robots...
Summary: Soundwave wants the best wet-nurse available for his Cassettes. Even if said wet-nurse is from the other faction and reluctant to comply with his demands...
Word Count: 3239
Sitting cross-legged over the floor, Hot Rod shook his head right and left and emitted muffled cries of protest as he felt little mouths latch at him, grabbing his exposed nubs and starting sucking at his fully expanded energon pouches. The two Cassettes pressed against his bared feeding pouches, Rumble and Frenzy, both emitted noises of pure pleasure as they started draining their fill of enriched energon. The young Autobot tried to buckle to dislodge them - a task rendered almost impossible with his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles firmly chained together - more than once, until two blue painted forearms laced tightly against his middle and gave him a squeeze.
Hot Rod couldn’t turn his head and actually look at the Cassettes’ holder, but he knew Soundwave was giving him a clear warning. Stop his useless but morally satisfying attempts to free himself, or risk something happening to the precious being that was growing inside him.
Fragging Decepticon…
Hot Rod stilled and sagged in his bonds, head dropping low as he shuttered his optics, signaling his acceptance. He just couldn’t take the chance the ‘Con would do something to his unborn sparkling. Soundwave gently caressed his stomach plates in return, as his arms locked the young Autobot more tightly against him, pressing the back of the captive youngster against his broad chest.
Hot Rod powered up his optics at a minimum setting after a while. He just couldn’t try and ignore what was happening to him, no matter how much he wanted. He could feel his fluids being slowly drained from him by voracious little beings who had no right, absolutely none, to use his pouches this way. The energon he produced was supposed to be for his future sparkling, and perhaps his lover, if he felt a bit kinky. Not for ‘Cons. Never for them.
Rumble and Frenzy nipped at him, licked the areas around the nubs, and never stopped feeding, taking their fill and even more. Dimly, further in the room, he could see Ravage, licking clean what had been a full bowl of enriched energon, as Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw and Ratbat still licked their own share in smaller containers.
It was Hot Rod’s own enriched energon they had consumed so greedily, to be precise; his energon, drawn from him with a breast pump. Hot Rod’s cheeks burned with shame and no small amount of rage at the thought, and he couldn’t stop himself as he bit deeper into the ball-gag inserted into his mouth to keep him quiet.
Funny, how Soundwave had warned him. Either he stayed quiet - because family feeding time was supposed to be a quiet and relaxing moment for all the participants, i.e. Soundwave’s own Cassettes - or he would be silenced. Well, Hot Rod hadn’t wanted to be quiet. It was a violation of his own body, what the blue Decepticon expected of him, and he had clearly made the point clear by starting swearing a blue streak, punctuating his litany of insults with demands to be released immediately.
So he got the gag.
But that didn’t mean he was totally mute anyway. He still had a way to ‘talk’ if he truly wanted, but there really was nothing he wanted to share with Soundwave, aside from more insults and swear words which would have made Kup blush.
Hot Rod forced himself to look past the colored forms of Rumble and Frenzy, who had comfortably installed themselves on cushions they had put on his thighs, and focused his optics on the set of bare medical ports across his side. Soundwave’s connecting cables were plunged deep inside, monitoring his systems carefully. Another cable was digging into a more specialized port, enabling him to discuss with Hot Rod on a short range comm link. The only one Hot Rod still possessed.
It was, as Soundwave as stated, a mean for the Autobot captive to let him know if he had any problem or wanted something. Whatever he wanted, Soundwave would do his best to make him comfortable and help him. But since he couldn’t hold his glossa in check and say anything other than asinine things, then Soundwave gave himself the right to restrict his communication.
He sent him ping and queries from times to times, as well as reassurance about the sparkling’s status and some vitals, but the prisoner hadn’t given him any answer.
Hot Rod had almost laughed at that.
It was so… incredibly insane.
In a few short orns, since his arrival to Earth, the red and yellow Autobots had learned he was carrying, had his feeding protocols and subroutines activate full-time, and endured more than a few lectures about how careful he had to be now from Ratchet and Kup and Ironhide and… and about every Autobot who was a tad older and more ‘experienced’ than him. Hot Rod hadn’t minded… too much. His mind had still been reeling from the news, but underneath, he was ecstatic. To be a creator… It seemed wonderful.
He had been relieved of most of his duties, but he still enjoyed exploring the area around the Ark. Earth was truly a fascinating place, especially for him, a ‘bot who had almost always grown up in Cybertron’s underground labyrinths. He wasn’t going too far, and he was careful, and he kept an almost constant contact with someone on base.
Then, surprisingly, during one outing, he had been ambushed, kidnapped by a very driven Decepticon TIC, dragged to the Nemesis (carefully; very carefully, in fact. Soundwave had taken no risk to injure neither him nor the unborn sparkling beyond a few scruff marks and a bad processor ache), locked in a berthroom instead of the brig, tightly bound with weapons and comm links disabled, and had then be told he was expected to feed Soundwave’s horde from now on.
Well, he hadn’t exactly been told right away. When he had regained his senses and managed to calm himself a little (which hadn’t been easy, what’s with the infamous TIC of the opposite faction looming over him), he had found himself being presented with a full cube of energon. A cube he had forced himself to drink, for the sake of the little one growing in him. Then he had been presented with a second, and a third.
Honestly, his tanks had been more than a little full with the second one, but Soundwave had forced him to drink the third anyway. Each cube had been laced with additives Hot Rod had recognized as supplements for the sparkling’s good growth.
It had seemed Soundwave had truly cared about the well-being of the unborn Cybertronian, so Hot Rod had managed to relax marginally. He had thought he had been brought here as a hostage, made more valuable become of the young life he was shielding.
But then, after a while had passed (just enough for his systems to have processed the energon correctly), Soundwave had brought out the pump. He had forced Hot Rod’s chestplates open, hacked his systems to force him to active his feeding lines, and then managed to extract several bottles worth of enriched energon from his struggling captive.
It had taken a while to sink in, but Hot Rod had eventually realized. The energon he had been given hadn’t been spare rations for a prisoner, no. He had been fed with the Cassettes’ own rations, and Soundwave fully expected his prisoner to give it back, and with interest.
Contrary to popular beliefs, a Cybertronian didn’t need that much energon to work right, nor did Carriers, even if they drank a lot in order to prepare themselves for the moment the sparkling would emerge. When a mech took a ration, what he drank was partly used for his immediate needs, but most of what he had taken was in fact deconstructed, refined and stocked in different small reservoirs. It formed a small reserve in which a starved mech tapped. It was also the way ones pouches were filled.
When the feeding lines were activated, the reservoirs all sent their trace elements and fluids into the pouches, where it mixed with the energon which usually circulated in the rest of the body, and expended the pouches, creating a rich and nutritious mix of fuel, suited for sparklings as well as grown mechs.
In clear, a carrying mech always produced more energon than what he usually consumed, and the more well-fed he was, the more he could send into his pouches to feed his sparkling.
Soundwave had fully counted on it when he had fed Hot Rod. Instead of stall middle grade or low-grade, his creations would be given the best enriched energon available.
There was a sharp nip on one of his nubs, and Hot Rod moaned painfully through the gag. Oh, the little slagger! He glared down at Rumble, who had stopped sucking and was giving him a toothy smile.
“This one is a keeper, Boss! Hadn’t had such a good meal since… Well, back when we were still on Cybertron! Tastes wonderful. I wouldn’t mind doing it every cycle until I offline” he added, licking his lips components with gusto before mockingly patting the pouch he had just fed from.
Hot Rod felt like crying, really. He was feeling more and more helpless by the breem, and he hated the way the smug little slagger was playing with his pouch. Damnit, why couldn’t he stop?!
Hot Rod’s vents worked a bit harder as he leaned a bit more against Soundwave. The Cassette’s holder had been gently caressing his abdomen for a while, but Hot Rod’s move made him pause. The Autobot felt him nearing his face, and he took a deep respiration with his vents.
:: … Soundwave? :: he sent tentatively across the restricted comm link.
:: Autobot Hot Rod. What do you desire? ::
::… Can you… make Rumble stop?... Please? :: he added after a few kliks, hoping it would prompt the Decepticon to act.
He felt Soundwave nods behind him.
“Rumble: stop playing with food. Alternatives: continued feeding, or leaving.”
Hot Rod thought he was going to choke. Food?! Oh, as soon as he was free, he was going to fragging beat them into a pulp! But Rumble pouted and nodded, before taking the nub back in his mouth and starting sucking again.
Frenzy stopped his meal briefly too. “Slag! The bitlet is going to be sooooo lucky when he’s born, to be able to eat it every day… ‘s unfair,” mumbled Frenzy as he attached himself again to a nub and started sucking anew.
Hot Rod almost snorted. Almost.
Across them, Ravage had rolled himself into a ball, and was now fast asleep. The bird-like and bat-like Cassettes had finished their own rations and were now either asleep themselves or observing the feeding of their ‘brothers’ with interests. The stares made Hot Rod flinch a little. And he was feeling irritated by how long it was taking for the two humanoid Cassettes to finish their ‘lunch’.
:: … Will it last much longer? :: he finally asked Soundwave over the link.
:: Answer: as long as they’ll want. ::
That wasn’t very encouraging, mused Hot Rod.
:: You promised me the sparkling wouldn’t be harmed if I cooperated. But if it continues too long, it certainly will not be good for him, :: he tried. :: Did you lie to me? ::
He felt Soundwave stiffen. :: Negative: sparkling’s further well-being: priority. ::
Yeah. Because if Hot Rod stopped carrying, most of his subroutines would go offline again, and even if he would still be able to breastfeed someone, the mix in his pouches would decrease in quality.
:: Really? Despite that, you let them suck me dry, :: answered Hot Rod with a tad more sarcasm as he had intended.
:: Occurrence: unlikely. Soundwave: will make sure Autobot Hot Rod is well-maintained. Cooperation: will ensure well-being and care for both sparkling and carrier, :: he added, gently pressing one of his hand against Hot Rod’s stomach, where he knew the gestational chamber reposed.
Hot Rod turned his head a little, embarrassed, but unwilling to move away from the touch. It felt… good. Reassuring.
:: You’re sure I’ll still have enough for my sparkling? They’re taking a lot… ::
:: Worries: unnecessary. Analysis indicates no decrease in quality should appear in the long term. ::
Hot Rod frowned. :: How… how would you know that? Have you scanned me? ::
A ping. :: Negative. Soundwave: merely sampled content of the pouches prior to the feeding. ::
:: You… sampled my energon? While I was still unconscious? :: asked Hot Rod, feeling vaguely sick.
He could just picture it in his mind. Soundwave’s face, pressed against his pouches, as his unresponsive body laid sprawled across a berth, the Communication Officer making faces as he tried to decide if whatever he was licking was good enough for his small personal army. Oh Primus, and if he had done others things to him while Hot Rod had been in forced stasis? What if he had tried to do something to the sparkling? What if he had tried to… touch him? Nobody would have known… Hot Rod grew more and more agitated.
:: Negative, :: came the sudden words over the comm. link. Hot Rod startled. He hadn’t realized Soundwave was also scanning him telepathically. He should have known, though. :: Energon: taken through a pump. Carefully analyzed chemically for ascertaining the ideal mix of components. Then tasted. Taste and quality: judged more than acceptable for my Cassettes. Intimate contact: would not have been appropriate. Unless Autobot Hot Rod desires so? ::
Soundwave’s hands lowered a bit, toward his panel.
Hot Rod shuddered in revulsion. :: No way in the Pit! I will never want you! ::
He felt Soundwave tilt his head behind him. :: Affirmation: can be challenged. Carrying mechs: well-known for increase of libido during some stages of carrying process. Autobot Hot Rod: will hit such a stage sooner or later. Soundwave: offering assistance should things become too much to handle. ::
Hot Rod was growing more agitated. He buckled again, trying to get away from the big Decepticon, twisting his body in an attempt to make him loose his handle. Frenzy and Rumble protested loudly. Soundwave just held him more firmly.
:: Autobot Hot Rod: should calm himself. Increasing of stress: bad for the sparkling. ::
:: Calm! How can I be calm when you’re causally telling me you’ll rape me! :: Hot Rod was on the verge of hysteria, now. Cleaning fluid was pooling into his optics, and he fought with himself to not start wailing.
:: Negative. Soundwave: will not touch if he isn’t invited to. Soundwave: unwilling to force himself on a reluctant partner. ::
There was a nod of finality in his declaration that calmed Hot Rod, just a little. Or perhaps the Cassettes’ holder was using his telepathy to force him to relax. Unless it was his systems which were acting up in order to protect the sparkling. Either way, he could feel his core temperature beginning to drop.
:: Why? :: he asked softly. :: Why me? Why now? ::
Soundwave was silent for a few minutes. :: … Cassettes: precious to me. Their well-being: always main objective. Nursing: procures pleasant sensations and comfort. Action: unable to be realized since leaving Cybertron. Most Decepticons: not in possession of feeding pouches. Feeding lines: often incompatible with military models. Those in possession: rare on the Nemesis. Potential enemies, too. Cassettes: in desperate need of something to cheer them up. Carrying Autobot: too much an opportunity to let it pass. ::
:: And so you kidnapped me, while I’m still not even at the half of my gestational period, to feed them? Until when? :: he asked with dread. It was something they hadn’t talked about yet, and Hot Rod really feared the answer. It was clear he was not to be terminated, so he would be released at some point, but there was no time frame. He knew Soundwave had no intention to let him go anytime soon, since Hot Rod’s feeding lines were making the joy of his Cassettes, but how long did he intend to keep him under hand?
:: … Until eventual birth and/or weaning of the sparkling. :: was the eventual answer.
Oh Primus…
Hot Rod started to shake. So long; so , so awfully long. He felt faint, and he felt upset, except… no. He didn’t feel much, surprisingly. But he definitely felt the presence in the back of his head, telling him to stay calm, that too much stress was harmful for his systems, that everything would be fine, that the sparkling would be fine,…
:: No telepathy, :: he managed to choke. :: Don’t want you in my head… ::
No answer, but the feeling in his head decreased. It didn’t exactly disappear, but if felt much fainter. Soundwave stayed crouched in the back of his mind, ready to forcefully calm him, make him feel things he didn’t really feel, in order to ‘protect’ the unborn sparkling… and his Cassettes’ precious meal ticket.
:: … I want my friend. I want Springer, :: the Autobot said with pain in his voice. :: It’s his sparkling. He should be here to take care of me, not you. He’s the one who should suck on me when I produce too much energon, not them. He should be here when the sparkling is born, and thanks to you, he will not be… Oh, Primus, and the emergence! How am I going to do it here?! ::
Unless he managed to be rescued before the time came for emergence, but there was no guarantee he would, and Hot Rod knew it. Soundwave seemed to have an answer all ready.
:: Decepticons: not barbarians. Carrier: will not be harmed if behaves. Various Decepticons: knowledgeable about sparklings and emergence. Hook: perfectionist, and able to handle an emergence alone, should the need arises. Constructicons: able to prepare the Medbay accordingly. Starscream: scientist, familiar with process, might be able to help. Soundwave, Thundercracker: able to act as midwives. Also, specialists: can be contacted and brought from Cybertron with the Space Bridge, if carrying process tricky. Soundwave: also willing to provide a live-feed to the Sire and Autobots to assure them of the birth of his creation and well-being of the Carrier. ::
:: … a live-feed… :: a few coolant tears run along his cheek. :: I want him here with me. I want him to hold me and promise me all will be alright. I want Ratchet, and Hoist, and First Aid to be here and help… ::
Both hands were gently rubbing his stomach. :: Demand: impossible to meet. But Soundwave: truthful. Harm to Hot Rod and sparkling: not intended. Care: will be provided as best as possible under circumstances. Desire: to make Carrier as comfortable and happy as possible until eventual release. ::
:: Then release me, :: whispered Hot Rod through the comm., feeling defeated.
Soundwave sounded almost sorry when he answered. :: Soundwave: unable to comply with this particular demand… ::
The silence was only punctured by the unmistaken noise of two mechs, still gently sucking the fuel, and basking in the warmth of the body they were settled against, and the sound of soft sobs muffled through a gag.