Chapter Text
Even before Perceptor sat down and told them were they were going, all three of them knew something was up. Laboratory 'technicians' came and went, always so hesitant and cautious the first few times, but quickly warming with a little attention. First Aid came to visit twice, once accompanied by a strange mech who carried other mechs *inside* his chest. The little guys were a lot of fun, and Sam was sad to see them go.
They'd looked almost like people, too, which was nice.
All the visitors helped to break up the monotony. Perceptor and Shockwave had their heads together most of the time, it seemed, plotting something.
And then Perceptor told them exactly what they were planning.
Trent didn't believe it, even as he grew more lucid; Sam was just mad he hadn't been told earlier. Miles was thrilled. They all pestered laboratory technicians to help them pack and repack the most valuable pieces of Cybertronian technology. And all too soon, their gear was being loaded onto a shuttle, and from there, to the ship that would take them home.
-------
Miles craned his neck back... and back. “Woah,” he breathed.
The ship was an enormous shell, a vast oblong that could have comfortably housed six stadiums -- maybe even more, stands included. Huge, angular support ribs made it feel like Miles was standing inside some enormous creature. A drift of distant stars were just visible through the nearest of the... windows, or whatever they were -- long slashes like open gills, each sixty feet tall. The main level was an enormous open space, tall enough for even the biggest mechs to stand easily. Through the grating underfoot, Miles caught glimpses of crates, stacked in unimaginable depth below. And above...
Oh, my.
There was a mech up there, cradled in straps the size of cranes, fragile slings suspending unimaginable bulk. Like the unholy cross between a trilobyte and a sea serpent, it was segmented, scaled, haloed with fins that seemed tiny but were surely twenty feet long. It was like something from a movie, too huge and too complex to ever be real. Shades of aquamarine and teal and deep bruise violet ghosted over its plating, a pattern as deliberate and slow as the tidal pull of an endless sea. The mech stretched the full length of the ship, nose to stern, and was almost as wide.
An eye the size of Miles’ entire torso focused on him, then blinked. The mech had dozens, and not just on its front. Or at least, Miles thought this end might be the mech’s front -- a shield-shaped arc bigger than a house. Perspective did funny things on a scale such as this. Every one of the mech’s eyes was azure, an aching, cerulean blue, inwardly illuminated.
“Hail, Oceanus,” Perceptor trilled, glyphs laced with all the modifiers of respect properly used when addressing cityformers and their kin.
Perceptor did not expect a response from the massive research and refueling platform. Oceanus was far from the largest of his kind -- albeit the largest capable of being transported like this -- but once he was fully unfolded into his planetside form, he could easily house several dozen standard-sized mecha or more. Plus his own fleet of distillers, of course. With regal deliberation, the Atlantusformer gave a subtle, gracious nod of his cranial segment and blinked his primary optics.
Oceanus was destined for Earth as part of Vos's claim, based on their previous scientific survey, as protector and agent for the oceans and the ice-bound continent on its southern pole. The newsfeeds were abuzz with rumors that Vos had filed a claim on the upper portion of the troposphere and all the atmospheric layers above that as well. The ocean claim was bold, and had the remainder of Cybertron's city-states in an uproar due to the application’s unusually fast approved by the Lord Prime. But the atmospheric claim was even more audacious, as it would enable the citystate to lay a tariff upon any exports that traveled through its territory -- or it would if the claim held up in the legal challenges that were certain to follow.
"Hello," a warm, friendly voice spoke from behind Perceptor, in clear American accented English. The strong field that politely brushed Perceptor's and then withdrew indicated a very large mech, but when Perceptor turned around, he found a small, barrel chested aquatic minibot, fins swept up high behind his back. He was only half again as tall as the two humans at Perceptor's feet; the crest of his helm barely came to the top of Perceptor’s thighplates. One of Oceanus's Distillers, without a doubt, his oversized spark large enough to power a mech six times his size.
"My designation is Seaspray," the Distiller said, folding himself down to be even closer in height to Sam and Miles, transmitting a greeting glyph to Perceptor to include him, though making it obvious that it was the humans whom he wished to address.
Perceptor heard Trent stirring in the soft padded carrier where he'd been resting. Shifting his secondary optics to the pod, he saw Trent lying on his side and looking down. The largest and most aggressive of Perceptor's humans had his eyes locked on the scene below, tiny fists balled up with his usual protective intensity. Perceptor's spark spun a bit faster in relief at seeing Trent displaying normal behavior rather than the feverish lethargy that had dominated his behavior. At least he was awake and aware, improving steadily -- and while he fought treatment, he’d yet to tell Perceptor no, even when asked. It had been... a stressful few orns. For both of them.
"Woah! You're not much bigger than that Blaster-guy's little dudes," Miles exclaimed, stepping forward. Of course, small was relative, when dealing with mechs. Seaspray was far more stoutly built than a cassette, but his fingers were as long and spindly as Perceptor’s.
"God Miles, have some tact," Sam said through gritted teeth, before also taking a step forward. "I'm Sam, this is Miles, our big guy up there is Perceptor, and the one in the pod-thing is Trent."
"I offer you greetings on behalf of Aegis Oceanus and our entire cohort," Seaspray said, his expressively mobile faceplates offering a smile that was almost more human than mech. Perceptor thought it likely that Seaspray had already modified his appearance in anticipation of their new home. "Oceanus, and the rest of us, are very curious about Earth's dominant land species, and delighted that you are sharing this journey with us."
“It’ll be good to get home,” Miles said, smiling back.
“Do you know anything about what’s been happening there?” Sam asked a little wistfully, though his brow was furrowed with worry. “I mean, have things fallen apart even more? Have countries gotten back on their feet?” They must’ve been gone... for what? Six years? Eight? A lot would’ve happened in that time.
Seaspray tilted his helm. “I am sorry, Sam. I do not know these things. However, locating and aiding human populations, and correcting any environmental imbalances, will be among our first priorities. Societal imbalances... will probably be beyond our purview.”
Sam nodded slowly. “But... you’re going there for the same reason that, uh, ‘Iacon’ did? To take more people offworld?” He did his best to keep his tone carefully neutral. It wasn’t like they three could do anything about it, especially not with Trent in this condition.
“It is possible,” Seaspray agreed, “but any such arrangements will take time. By the terms of our agreement which permits us to trade with your race, we may not remove humans from your planet at all until populations recover, or there are very special circumstances. And Vos prides itself on the fairness of its agreements, not just the wording, so we want to make sure that any humans truly understand the consequences of being taken offworld.”
Sam nodded reluctantly. They certainly weren’t going to get many ‘volunteers’ if they did explain everything truthfully.
“That’s great,” Miles piped in with his customary enthusiasm.
Sam was not as optimistic. There was still that big ‘if’. If they explained things. If they were truthful. If they were fair.
Sure, Percy was a nice guy, and Seaspray seemed so, too. Even Shockwave kind of was, in his freaky purple Japanese “I’m gonna stare at you with my one eye like I’m visually dissecting you” scientist way. But the other robots? The one they’d been with before Percy and before they’d been moved to the extra-fancy room to be used by all kinds of mechs -- he’d been cold. Just... uninterested in the fact that the three of them were living, sentient beings, beyond making sure they were fed and watered and not damaged too much. And none of them had forgotten what he’d ordered to be done to Trent.
He wanted to believe Seaspray that those in Vos were different, but well. He couldn’t quite get past that ‘if’.
He snorted to himself. Then again, maybe they really would do what they had promised, explain stuff to everyone so that everyone knew. After all, they’d just have to wait until those who remembered what Earth was like before the robots, were dead. Maybe not even that long. And then people might find it normal to be treated like high-end sex toys. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how Percy was accompanying them to Earth to spend the rest of their natural lives with them, and treated it as nothing more than... than a short *vacation*.
-----------------------
Miles kicked his heels back and forth, feet dangling over the edge of the elevated walkway. It was nice up here, refreshing to be as tall as the mechs. Talking to their knees just wasn’t the same. The one who looked like a bumblebee was even worse -- how did you properly address a dude’s groin? Always left Miles blushing. He smiled and looked up as a small mech approached -- at least he could talk to Seaspray’s sternum. “Hi again, Seaspray.”
“Hello, yourself.” Seaspray levered himself down to sit beside the warm little human.
“I met a couple of your friends.” Including some who were colored almost exactly like Seaspray but definitely didn’t have the same names -- God, that had been embarrassing. He watched for different configurations of fins and other small details, now, not just color.
Seaspray voiced a sound almost exactly like a chuckle. “So you did. My cohort-mates were pleased to meet you as well.”
“That means you’re all part of the same family, kinda like brothers?” Miles asked, interested. Seaspray nodded. “So... how many of you guys are there?”
“Eighteen. I was his first, but as Oceanus added more components, he changed roles, and needed more distillers.”
“Huh,” said Miles, trying to process that. “So... he’s like a seahorse? And you’re all... his babies?”
Seaspray reset his optics. Then rebooted them for good measure. “Well... I don’t believe so, no. Tell me more about these aquatic ungulates?”
“Not mammals -- they’re fish, I think.” Miles spread his hands, demonstrating the size. “Mostly pretty small. The male keeps all his babies in a pouch, though, keeps them safe, until they’re big enough to be on their own. So, I thought, yanno... since you go inside as well....”
Seaspray purred his amusement. Oceanus, it seemed, was not the only observant creature aboard. “We distillers will not grow any larger. Oceanus provides us safety, yes, but we usually return to deliver the resources we collect.”
“Collect?”
Seaspray nodded. “We harvest energy from our environments, and process it into the forms Oceanus needs. Some of us specialize: Littoral likes to cling to stony bottoms in tidal zones, or the undersides of ice floes, where he harnesses wave energy. I’m something of a generalist -- I can harvest energy by basking in sunlight, or by breaking down certain atoms I come across, like mercury. Or I can bring the mercury directly to Oceanus, if he needs it to repair or expand.” He studied the little organic, not certain if his terminology was too complicated for Miles.
“Huh. That sounds useful.” Miles didn’t seem to have much trouble processing the information. “So you gather the energy and then deliver it... by going inside?”
Seaspray nodded, then tilted his helm a little. “Want to try it?”
Miles choked. “I... uhm. I don’t have anything to give him, though. I mean, won’t he be mad?”
Seaspray chuckled. These humans were really fantastically charming creatures. "Far from it. You are curious about Oceanus, Oceanus is curious about you.”
“Oh.” Miles tilted his head back. They were almost thirty feet off the main floor like this, high enough to peer down on most mechs below and look the rest in the eye, but Oceanus was suspended another thirty feet up or more. He seemed even more vast like this, an angular aqua sky. “Do you have my, uhm, environmental specs? I still need to breathe and stuff. And I squish pretty easily.”
Seaspray smiled and tapped his chestplates. “Got them right here. Not to worry -- Oceanus is very gentle, and very careful.”
Miles bit at his lip. “You sure he’s ok with this?”
"Very sure. How about you, Miles. Are you 'ok' with it?"
Miles skin became flushed. "Sort of depends on what 'it' is."
Seaspray leaned back on his hands. “Slipping into an Aegis’ alveus is a pretty incredible experience. He’s always warm, and the inside is lined with protometal - very soft and sensitive. He’s got as many chemoreceptors and field sensors inside each cavity as he does on his whole exterior surface - helps him monitor us and make sure we’re functioning well. Most Aegismecha aren’t nearly as big as Oceanus, and don’t have alvei like he does.”
“So, uh... he tastes you?” Miles asked, squirming a little, skin flushed. He put his hands in his lap.
“In a manner of speaking,” said Seaspray thoughtfully, “but more intimate and exploratory than that? I’m not sure.” He shrugged, wishing he was more familiar with exactly what kinds of things a human could sense.
“So... how do you give him the resources you collect?”
“Aegismecha have siphons,” said Seaspray easily, though his faceplates spread in a gently wistful smile. “Oceanus has a pair of them in each alveus -- they link our systems, and allow me to deliver whatever he needs. He... usually doesn’t deploy them when exploring other species, though.” Seaspray sounded apologetic. “Maybe you want to take a closer look first? I was headed to him, myself, before I spotted you.”
Miles brightened. “Yeah, that’d be really good. I mean, if I wouldn't be in the way or interrupting something..." his voice trailed off. Even though they were designed for an aquatic environment, Seaspray's chemoreceptors could easily taste what he assumed was Miles's arousal. While Seaspray’s arousal took a very different form, it was something he could certainly identify with. There was nothing quite like Oceanus's field, and the humans, it was reported, were quite field-sensitive in their aroused state. Oceanus, for his part, had always enjoyed it when the little organics of their watery colony had explored his nooks and crannies.
“Not a bit,” Seaspray smiled easily. “We do this all the time -- usually under hundreds of fathoms of water, of course.” He stood and offered a hand. The human’s fingers wrapped neatly around one talon, like the grip of a hatchling, almost unbelievably charming. “Or leagues? Kilometers?” The dictionary file wasn’t clear on earth’s measurement units, which seemed to differ depending on what one was measuring.
“Fathoms is right, I think. A league is, like, a really long ways....” said Miles, following along at Seaspray’s side as they climbed the rampway higher. Almost every part of the mechs’ architecture was built so that one could either walk or drive on four wheels. That meant nice wide rampways, which was good, because the whole concept of ‘guard rails’ seemed to have escaped the machines.
“Wow,” said Miles softly, as they passed by one on Oceanus’ guidance fins, now tucked close to his underside. “Can I....?”
“Of course,” Seaspray said, and watched with amusement as the little human reached to stroke his soft hand along the radial spar. This small fin was meant for stabilization and fine motor control -- it was three times Miles’ height, and just as wide when the pearly interlocking links of it were spread. Even still, the little human touched the limb as if it were delicate, fragile. Oceanus probably didn’t even register the contact -- his external plating had few pressure sensors, unlike his alvei. “You can press harder, he won’t break,” Seaspray smiled. When Miles finished indulging his curiosity, they continued upwards, until the massive plates of Oceanus’ underside were just overhelm. The Atlantusformer’s field was like an ocean itself, swirling around them, so strong it tugged at metal like a caress.
With a series of quiet clicks and hisses, Oceanus opened an alveus for them. Mechanisms unfolded, swinging a section down, like unhinging a jaw. Helpfully, Oceanus opened himself wider than usual for them -- in rough seas, Oceanus might present just enough of an opening to wriggle into. Now, sheets of metal moved in a precise, smooth cascade, opening up a pocket-like space about the size of a standard berth, slightly rounded, padded invitingly with the silver of protometal.
Seaspray watched Miles shiver. “Are you alright, Miles?” he asked gently.
“Yeah,” said Miles, rubbing his fingertips together where he’d touched Oceanus’ fin. “Just, uhm, tingly. So then what happens?”
“In the water, I usually just swim right in,” said Seaspray. “But on land like this --” the distiller reached up to steady himself, settled a hip on the rim of the alveus, and carefully swung his legs inside. A distiller had to be careful in order to dock without a cushion of buoyant water around him, but it could be done. Seaspray stretched himself out on the padded surface with a vented sigh of relaxation, the chamber flexing to cushion him. There was nothing in the world quite like the embrace of one’s Aegis, internal mechanisms adjusting to cup the whole length of his chassis. Even without the link of siphons, he could feel the powerful scans, sense his coding adjusting itself to read Oceanus’ needs. Just this contact was fundamentally satisfying -- was the very function for which Seaspray had been created.
“Huh,” said Miles, watching closely as the darkened space enfolded the small mech. Oceanus, Miles couldn’t help but note, had left a cupped space just beside Seaspray, about the size of a human, if he didn’t mind wriggling a little. All the tiny lights and glowy spots across Seaspray’s body -- all the mechs had them, though they were pretty subtle in direct light -- illuminated the hollow in a quietly dancing glow. The bottom lip of the pocket was chest-high to Miles, like some kind of a suspended sleeping tube. Weird, sure, but comfortable-looking, and refreshingly enclosed compared with all the wide-open spaces of the ship. “What’s....” he reached out to run his fingers over the silvery padding of the alveus, and gasped aloud.
Seaspray offered his hand.
It took next to no effort for the distiller to hoist him up, strength carefully held in check as to not damage the human. Which would be so easy, fragile as they were.
And then Miles was sitting on the edge, and he barely swallowed a nervous giggle. If he let his imagination run wild, it would almost be... The padding felt strong and firm, yet gave when he pressed against it. But it was dry instead of slick, even if it was warm and radiated the same energy that made his stomach tingle. Hardly knowing what he was doing -- just that he wanted *more* -- Miles slipped off his shirt and pants, and left them on the grating below.
Carefully, he crawled further inside, until he could nestle into the hollow that obviously had been shaped for him. His heart was pounding, his chest pressed against Seaspray, his back against the silvery stuff of the much, much larger mech. Oceanus.
“And now?” he asked breathlessly. The tingles were deliriously strong, running up and down his body, making his hair stand on end. Almost as strong as when Perceptor did that thing he did with his cables.
"Will it bother you if Oceanus closes us in?" Seaspray asked, a hint of static in his vocalizer. "You'll be able to take off your rebreather, if you'd like."
"Y-yeah, I'd really like that," Miles said, his face splitting into a grin. It wasn't just taking off the rebreather, thought that was nice enough. Even wrapped up with Sam and Trent, underneath a pile of microfiber cloths, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt cozy and enclosed - a feeling he'd craved for as long as he could remember. It seemed somehow appropriate that his first taste of that sensation since leaving Earth would be within the most massive mech he'd ever seen. The ultimate blanket fort.
A multitude of tiny segments filled in the gap that opened the alveolus to the outside, like silver glitter filling a jar, or a veil of sand, shifting faster than his eyes could follow. Fully enclosed, the hollow was far from dark. The silver surrounding him was traced with patterns of swirling light, like pearlescent, wispy nebulae. Seaspray's frame cast its own glow, a hundred jewel-like lights shining like stars from his body. It was quiet here too, peaceful, without a hint of the metal-clanging background noise that pervaded any space that mechs inhabited.
Miles unhooked the hated apparatus from his nose, taking in a deep, unfiltered breath. The air was wonderfully humid, and smelled, just faintly, of alien oceans. He put the rebreather into Seaspray's waiting hand, who made it disappear into wherever the heck mechs stored things. (The stuff Perceptor pulled out for them sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere! It had become a game to Miles to ask Perceptor for the oddest things, just to see what would magically appear...).
"So..." Miles said, looking around, his hands reaching up a little more boldly to stroke the silver around him. He could feel Oceanus rumble in response, a deep vibrating purr. "Oh wow," he threw back his head as a jolt of something amazing traveled up his arms and legs and took up residence right down to his belly. The sensation was almost enough to mask the rising tide of feeling, rising up from every place his skin touched silver.
Seaspray smiled, mobile faceplates moving. “Just an exploratory scan, Miles. Our last planet had organics as well, but they were not so complex as you. Your respiratory processes alone are exquisite. So many systems fit together, all regulated by such simple molecules. Truly a marvel.”
“Uh, thanks, I think,” said Miles, grinning despite the distraction of rippling sensations over his skin, of arousal that seemed to have taken up residence in his very core. “W-what was your last planet like?”
“Arquitex? The water was very salty, and covered in a thick layer of ice almost everywhere. Very little lived in the upper layers, but down below there were just these thousands of hot vents....”
That must have been nice. Hadn’t Seaspray said he collected energy and minerals for a living? If Arquitex was in any way similar to Earth, it must have been a veritable feast. Speaking of Earth... “You had those glow-in-the-dark fishes as well? S-saw a documentary on them when I was little, and they’re really deep down in the ocean where... where there’s no light.” Miles swallowed, tried to focus. Which was pretty much impossible, with Oceanus doing... whatever he was doing. “The water’s all black down there, and then suddenly there’s a squid or jellyfish that’s got glowing dots and lines like some artist decided to outline its tentacles with neon tubes. Beautiful.” He hesitated a bit. “Kind of what your plugs look like.”
“You think them aesthetically pleasing?”
The plugs or the deep sea fish? “Yeah,” Miles nodded to both.
Seaspray chirred his quiet delight. “I am certain I will find your planet and its inhabitants aesthetically pleasing as well, Miles. Particularly if many of them are like you.” Slowly, Seaspray spread his spindly fingers over Miles’ flank and side, feeling the smooth skin there, the subtle bumps of rib-struts laced beneath. Seaspray had regretted leaving Arquitex and all its many curious organics, some of them well on their ways to developing rudimentary language. He still missed the planet to a degree, but these new organics proved to be an entirely new level of fascinating.
Oceanus thought so too, apparently, to judge by the wealth of scanned data he generated and shared with his distillers. “May Oceanus enclose you a little more?” Seaspray inquired hesitantly, not certain how Miles would feel about being in a tighter space. “He will make sure you have plenty of space to breathe. All the atmosphere here interferes with some of his scans.”
At that point, Miles probably would have agreed to be eaten alive, he was so hard. Would it be rude to grind up against Seaspray? It probably would. Oh God. The mech’s gentle, exploratory touch wasn’t helping anything, either, and he could *feel* it whenever Oceanus switched to a different scan, each one a new wave that rocked through him. “Uhm... yeah, no problem, I mean -- eep!” The silvery metal cradling him did more of that shifting-glitter thing and began flowing around his feet and shins. Whatever it was, it felt as liquid as a warm bath, and yet he could hardly wiggle his toes. Was that what mercury would feel like?
He looked at Seaspray, and while he couldn’t see over the bulk of the mech’s torso he could see the same thing happening to him. Seaspray had relaxed all those plates that made up his skin, allowing the grainy not-liquid to slip into gaps as broad as Mile’s hand. It slowly crawled across both of them in a combination of reverse crumbling sandcastle and slime monster. Except that it wasn’t slimy at all and tingled with static electricity until Miles thought he was going mad.
Way too slowly, the stuff filled in around his thighs, pressing insistently between them. The silver was buoyant, and wonderfully warm. And then it lapped over his cock.
Miles choked on a sound that was midway between a squeal and a gasp, legs jerking, body flexing as if he’d just come but he hadn’t and oh God, he had to touch himself Right Now. Rudeness be damned! But his fingertips skidded across the advancing silver metal that now enfolded him -- so soft on his body, but hard as steel and impossible to reach through, to give himself that final squeeze and attain release. And his hips hardly moved, he couldn’t even push himself against Seaspray, or, or *anything*, just --
The enveloping silver stopped, and dimly, Miles heard the smaller mech, felt hesitant fingers stroke his hair. “Are you alright, Miles?”
“Oh God. Y...yes, but I.... oh please let me come, I --” Oceanus did something that felt like the fine-grained silver around him had become ten thousand fingertips, all moving, touching every part of him. Under his balls, stroking around the rim of his cock, exploring his toes and the backs of his knees and.... all just a little too firm to tickle, just a little too soft to let him come and he was going to have an aneurysm or something because his hands kept moving like he couldn’t stop them but he couldn’t touch himself and....
“Aah, you are aroused,” concluded Seaspray, sounding relieved. “Oceanus is very arousing.” He purred his own bliss as the Atlantusformer enveloped him. He eagerly cycled open the port at his back for his Aegis’s siphon when Oceanus pinged him the request. But... it wasn’t just one request. Oh my.
“Miles....” began Seaspray, stroking the human’s hair back from his forehead, the distiller’s own port twitching in sympathy as Miles sobbed, tried to writhe against Oceanus’ strength. “Oceanus reports that you have a port which can accommodate a siphon. Would you like for him to penetrate you as well?”
The feel of the organic seemed to change with that question, something odd. A sense of... potential? It was strange, for organics scarcely had a field to begin with at all, just the faint, drab flush of functioning cells with their own chemostatic charges. But this... this was something different. Seaspray had never felt its like -- as if his own glowing field, closely contained within Oceanus, now flowered over alien terrain. How utterly novel! Oceanus sensed the organic’s eagerness too. The frantic clutching of Miles’s hands against Seaspray’s chest, the little human’s whimpered “Oh god, yes!” were nearly superfluous confirmations.
//Enter Miles first? I will monitor him closely,// Seaspray purred to his Aegis, who agreed.
The massaging metal around Miles’s hips began to stir. He sobbed, fingers scrabbling, unable to finish himself, just clinging to Seaspray. “Please, please --” he gasped, and then felt something nudge between his parted cheeks.
Something big, blunt, that parted the silver substance and moved through it, something even warm and somehow... electric. It wasn’t the same as the silver substance, had more form and shape, even if it flexed and moved almost as freely. Oh God, it was like a tentacle, just nuzzling at the well-stretched rim of his ass, twisting, teasing the ring open.
Miles panted hard -- there was only a bubble about four feet across of atmosphere, centered around his head, but the air never went stale. Not that Miles would have noticed if it had. He tried to shove himself back, to impale himself on that teasing length, and went absolutely nowhere. “God yes, please put it in me please please....”
“So eager,” Seaspray murmured, and the tip pushed inside.
It was smaller than a mech’s cabletip, somehow alive, flexing and twisting inside him. He was still slick from his earlier use by Perceptor and some of the others, but this -- the siphon was so smooth, it flowed more than thrust. “Oh, God -- yes!” Miles gasped as more slid inside, electric ripples massaging him, pushing over his prostate. He was so close, so near to coming from this alone --a dozen times, he nearly came, but each time the grip around his cock seemed to ease. And still he couldn’t move his hips, couldn’t touch himself.
Miles sobbed, body jerking, flexing. And the slow creep of silver advanced once more, the tide lapping up over his belly, his chest. For all the liquid flow of the silver, it was like being encased in warm iron.... if there were any kind of iron that flexed for breath but not for movement. Another handspan pressed inside him, maddeningly sweet, thicker now while the tip flexed and turned and moved deeper.
Seaspray still stroked his face, crooning a sound like the sea over sand, but he could hardly feel it as another length moved inside him. Oh, God -- it was longer than any mech he’d taken, just pushing up inside him and there was still more, pressing between his thighs, flowing inside.... Miles’s cock jerked hard, he could feel it seeping, feel every brushing stroke of tiny metal fingertips drawing on him. Sucking at him, almost, so fucking sweet--!
“P-please... Sea, I need, need it--”
“What do you need?” Seaspray purred, his own chassis flexing with pleasure as Oceanus found the rim of his own eagerly-open port, just between his shoulderblades and a little lower. Oceanus loved to tease him, just wait a few moments, his siphon barely pressing between the wide-open callipers.
“--electr -- ah! Oh, yes!” Miles panted hard. “I-interface packet, please....” He cried out as another thick length eased inside him. God, he was more full than he’d ever been; the siphon just always pushing in more, spooling up inside, his body rippling around it. The siphon was already alive with vibrating charge, balancing him on edge, driving him mad, but it wasn’t, he needed.....
Blinking, Seaspray conveyed the strange request. Oceanus obligingly threaded a few transmission lines through the mass of his siphon, and then pushed a packet of charge over the impaled hardline.
Miles howled. And a field flared up around him, folding out in petals in every color a mech could sense -- a marvelous, a heady field, exactly the right frequencies to arouse charge in any Transformer. Impossibly dense with interference patterns, chaotic and fiery, it shattered the input charge and reflected it back in an incredible wash of sheer bliss.
Seaspray had assimilated all material he could find about human electromagnetics, and how they only developed a field when charged to the point overload. He’d never imagined it might be like this.
The wave encompassed him. But it *swept* Oceanus.
There was little warning. The sudden overload of the Atlantus-former caught everyone by surprise, as the wave of concerned com-chatter attested. In an enclosed space ship, nothing could shield a discharge of that size.
Seaspray didn’t catch much of what they were saying. Oceanus’s fields were *singing* in those low frequencies that carried around a planet in aqueous seas, and Seaspray was right at the focal point. The harmonies vibrated through his struts, the alveus’ protometal was the perfect medium to carry the modulations. Oceanus’s siphon finally breached his fuel chamber, and to the music of the Atlantus former’s resonance and the human keening beside him, he tipped over into white-hot bliss, his long fingers still stroking the little organic.
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"New orders for this bunch," Onslaught announced, making a rare appearance in the sorting room Vortex was prepping rather than communicating by comms from his office.
"Oh?"
"Apparently some of the merchandise have been expiring for unexplained reasons, usually when their owners are away for more than a few orn. They leave them with plenty of fuel and water, but come back to a foul-smelling decomposing corpse and no signs of a violent demise or rebreather failure. They're demanding refunds for flawed products. We're to keep this group here and find out why this is happening, and attempt to correct the flaw if possible."
Vortex tilted his helm. Was that....? Oh, yes it was. A sweet little shiver of excitement, building anticipation a coil in the pit of his spark. Or at least relief from relentless, aching boredom. Training the humans in transit was very pleasant, yes, but there were far too many limitations on his play.
No longer.
He’d need to replicate the various conditions the organics on Cybertron experienced. Certainly some of those conditions were very... creative. And if some of the organics happened to die during the experimental procedures, that would be expected. Brawl could be trusted to make sure there was no evidence of just *how* they’d extinguished.
"There is apparently a high ranking scientist, beholden to Iacon, who will be arriving soon for a vacation of some sort. He will be instructed by Iacon to assist us with analyzing the results when he arrives," Onslaught added.
"How soon?" Vortex asked.
"About five orn," Onslaught said.
Just over two of the mudball's lunar rotations. Plenty of time for some fun before he had to behave for the scientist.
"I'll start drafting the experimental methodology," Vortex said, the picture of cooperation. They'd each need to keep a group of the humans in their quarters, under simulated Cybertronian conditions.
Vortex inwardly chuckled, thinking of Brawl with a tank of squishies in his quarters. Vortex guessed that it’d take less than a joor before he ended up with twice as many squishies to play with.
"Don't frag this up," Onslaught warned.
As if. Vortex cleaned up his messes, and they'd have an answer for Iacon by the end of it.