anony-man

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #295!

Character: Astrotrain (G1)

Word count: 2.2k

Megatron’s orders from the morning meeting implied that Astrotrain’s upcoming trip through space later that evening would actually end off up being a much, much bigger challenge than he had first anticipated. Lucky Astrotrain, who had charted the course the moment he was out of that meeting and found his assumptions to be correct. It was of little importance to him how long it took or what the odds would be so long as he had ample time to prepare and refuel… and luckily, he did.

Astrotrain was shameless as he raided the communal fuel stations and energon reserves, and he paid no mind to the gawking faces that watched him head off to his quarters with his arms packed full with dozens of cubes and bags of rich, energy-sufficient snacks and sweets to fill the gaps. There was enough fuel in his arms to feed a great big group of ‘Cons, but for a mech of his size, he needed every last bit. He rummaged through his own personal stashes and reserves, too, when he got back to his habsuite, and after spreading out the goods on his berth, he sat his aft down and prepared to feast.

He was a triple-changer, as he was always parroting to the others, and triple-changers needed all the fuel they could get. An average day of work already had him filling up his belly and satiating the grumbles and growls of his extra sets of tanks more times than any ordinary Decepticon could imagine. Days like this where he really needed the extra fuel to burn while he orbited space and carried out Megatron’s grand plans needed three times as much, if not more. It was basic biology, as Astrotrain would say—a little bit of extra luck on his side, too, because when you were as big and hungry as he was, you never went without.

His belly was already crying out for fuel when he shoved his way inside, and the anticipation of a long, grueling trip made his mouth water as he spread his supplies out and assessed the goods. There was so much fuel for him to indulge in—too much by a normal bot’s standards, but just barely enough for a mech of his size and tank capacity. It would do the trick, he supposed… but he’d have to stop and refuel as soon as he landed again, just to be safe.

His berth was noisier than the sounds of his angry tanks growling as he made himself comfortable, and the pitiful protests only grew worse with every cube he knocked back. He had a lot of ground to cover, and he was bound to take off any minute now. There was no time to sit back and enjoy his fuel—he needed to move fast.

The first few cubes of energon settled nicely in his guts after he’d chased away the hunger pains and obnoxious growls that echoed through the room. Astrotrain paused in his steady refueling to cup the small curve of his belly and rumble a contented purr at the way the firm mesh grew taut around a budding pot belly. He hadn’t refueled like this in ages… a few cubes took him minutes to finish off on average, and now here he sat, knocking two, three, and four or more back at a time in seconds. His belly would be filled in no time, but he had to keep moving. The trip was a long one, and sputtering out on empty tanks halfway there wasn’t going an option.

By the time he had devoured the first small stash of energon cubes hidden away in his personal quarters, his belly was swelled out nicely around the edges, and his tanks felt comfortably full. It was a satiation that would only last for an hour or two at most, he knew, and as he poked at his protruding belly and felt around for the top set of tanks packed into his abdomen, he waited for the sensation of energon trickling slowly down into his reserves.

There was still more room for fuel, and he had plenty of energon and treats left to eat. When the tightness in his tanks eased back into the faint hunger and the slightest bit of satisfaction from a small little meal, Astrotrain continued to eat.

He had so many tanks left to fill—the first set was good and stuffed for only a few moments longer as he kept eating before his fuel and food trickled back down to fill the space left in the bottomless pit of his belly. He ate and drank and ate and drank as fast as he could, and he smacked his lips after each sip and ran his tongue over the sticky residue left on his face. He had a lot of ground to cover, and he had to cover it quick.

He polished off the last of his reserves and sweets shortly after, and from there, he moved onto chugging cubes like his life depended on it. Energon trickled down his chin and stained his cheeks as he slurped and slobbered and chugged, and despite the way his belly started to stretched and his plating strained, Astrotrain kept at it. He had a long flight ahead of him—he needed as much fuel as he could get.

“Uff…” he grunted, his servo held close against his massively swollen belly. “So full… but my tanks—“

He had only reached half capacity, if his numbers were right. That was only half of a flight—he’d have to refuel before coming back, too. He groaned as he reached through the mess of empty cubes and discarded wrappers, his trembling servo searching for something amongst the mess and chaos that hadn’t already been devoured. He felt so, so full already… but his tanks…

He had to keep refueling.

Astrotrain peeled the lid off of the cube slowly, and he grimaced as he held it up to his lips. His mouthfuls were big, and his throat swelled around each massive gulp as he forced the energon down. It hurt to eat anything more—he could feel the pressure building in his belly despite the room left inside of him. He wouldn’t make it far with the little bit he had drank.

He gulped and grimaced, gulped and groaned, then tossed aside the cube and took deep, heavy intakes as he braced his servos on the edges of the berth. It was dipping beneath his weight now, and his belly swelled out far enough that it covered his entire lap from view. It should’ve been enough fuel, but it wasn’t—not for a flight this long, and not for a trip that far.

His belly was massive now, and his tanks were packed beyond their capacity. His armor groaned like the berth creaking beneath him, and his tight plating was threatening to burst with every movement he made. Astrotrain huffed and puffed as he reached for the last of his energon reserves and peeled the lids off, and he held up two cubes at once to gulp them down. Energon spilled over his chest and stained his frame, and his belly protested the influx of fuel with pitiful whines that grew into deeper, painful, and ominous sounds.

He was so full now. Primus, he felt more than stuffed. He had to fill up each and every one of his tanks, though. He couldn’t go without enough of the fuel on such a long flight. Besides… he was a big mech, and big mechs had big tanks—and lots of them.

His tanks sloshed as he scooted himself towards the end of the berth, and with a great effort, Astrotrain heaved himself up onto his pedes and wobbled in place. He was swaying, and the weight of his belly was almost too much to bear. He could hardly stay standing as he took one uncertain step forward, then another, shuffling on pedes that hardly lifted off of the ground as he grunted and worked his way across the room.

He had overdone it—slag, he’d stuffed himself too far. The mission was too big, and the trip was too long. He should have said no… but he didn’t. He had the capacity for it. His extra tanks could store the energon… but he wasn’t prepared for this. Slag, he wasn’t prepared to drink so much.

He was filled up from the very bottom of his reserves to the top of his main set of fuel tanks. The over abundance of fuel filling him up had trickled down and stored itself in his fat reserves, too, and his frame had softened up drastically from it. His third step forward had him grabbing wildly for the wall, and the forth step resulted in a loud pop of his plating and the weight of his big belly previously contained spilling forth in a rush of soft, fleshy mesh and rolls that hung so low they nearly reached his knees. He was still so stuffed—the top half of his abdomen was firm to the touch, and his tanks were filled up past their capacity twice over.

“Slaggit,” Astrotrain puffed as he leaned against the wall, his big belly smushed below him. “Slaggit all…”

He could hardly move any further. Slag, he could hardly breathe properly. The pressure in his tanks was up to his throat, and his belly was weighing him down terribly now. He wondered briefly with a rush of morbid curiosity whether or not he’d even manage to take off. Would he even be able to transform?

Foolishly, he tried. Astrotrain pushed himself off of the wall and staggered into the center of the room, feeling practically drunk off of his overindulgence. His belly swung and his tanks sloshed as the fuel packed inside of his tanks caused them to gurgle angrily, and with his servos held out at his sides and his optics closed tightly, he focused…

He focused…

And he tried to transform.

It was a horrible idea, really. The blinding pain started before the transformation sequence had even gotten a chance to begin, and Astrotrain was crying out and forcing his systems to abort the ridiculous attempt before it could go any further. The pressure in his tanks skyrocketed, and he felt squeezed from the inside out. There was nothing but panic at first—panic and transforming limbs, the warning symbols covering his sight and clogging his HUD, a rush of adrenaline that left him feeling bottomless and his tanks jolting from the fear, then—

He was crashing to the floor after that. His aft hit the ground hard enough to rattle the room and cause ornaments and decorations to go crashing off of shelves datapads to clatter onto the floor with him. His flailing limbs and poor sense of direction only made things worse for himself as he ended up lying stretched out flat on his back after that, and with his belly pinning him in place and the massive weight of his poor choices weighing him down now via every last cube he had guzzled, Astrotrain was starting to feel pretty embarrassed.

He was a triple-changer. Triple-changers needed the extra fuel… they had all of the extra tanks! He just couldn’t believe it. Here he was, having stuffed himself silly and packed his belly full of enough fuel to feed a miniature army, just like he was supposed to. He had prepared for his mission and fueled up until he could fuel no more… but that, apparently, was the wrong thing to do.

Either that or he had just overdone it, but in his petulant state, Astrotrain hardly wanted to consider that as an option. He wasn’t moving anytime soon though, and that was for sure.

It was a shame… this was bound to be such a wonderful mission, too, and for once, he had finally gotten the chance to fill up his reserves. Those old stories about triple-changers needing extra fuel and having extra tanks were starting to feel a little fake now, that was for sure, and though he hated to admit to his mistakes, Astrotrain knew he’d have to explain to Megatron why he wasn’t up in the air and taking off in the next hour or so.

Ah, well. He hoped the fuel wore off quickly—he was already growing tired of sitting here trapped on his back with his big, stuffed belly weighing him down. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrible the punishment for failing to pull through on a mission would be compared to this miserable fate… so he didn’t. For now, he would sit, he would mope, and he would regret ever stuffing himself so much.

There was always next time… and next time, he would be sure to be much, much more careful.

[anony-man]

Here if you guys like them too:

Midsommar (major fucking trigger warning for other stuff, very fucking explicit gore)

Apostle (very gory, kinda weird near the end)

The Other Lamb (tw for misogyny type themes)

The Witch (kinda gory, SO SO SATISFYING OF AN ENDING THOUGH)

Brimstone (this one really triggered me so be careful, it’s still so good though)

Immaculate (took me a while to finish but good)

Loving and wanting to watch every good religion/cult-themed horror movie there is out there 🤝 getting triggered every time because they get it so fucking right

[anony-man]

I’LL TEAR YOU APART

MAKE BEAUTIFUL THINGS

FROM PIECES OF YOU

MAKE EVERYTHING NEW

[x]

[anony-man]

Loving and wanting to watch every good religion/cult-themed horror movie there is out there 🤝 getting triggered every time because they get it so fucking right

[anony-man]

Tomorrow will be better.

[anony-man]

Only transformers right now, but I’m open to any continuity.

Just putting this out there (and will probably reblog a few times), but I’m open to taking commissions if anyone on here would ever like one!

My schedule is hectic right now and classes are about to begin, but I can dish out a story for you in a week’s time, give or take. Message me if in any of you are ever interested! We can talk pricing and content, but really, I’m probably open to anything you folks throw my way.

[anony-man]

🎁 Holiday Gift Exchange ❄️

Do you love Dratchet and the holidays? Well this event may be for you! The Dratchet gift exchange sign ups are now live! 🚑⚔️

Sign ups: Sept 2nd - Sept 30th

Form is HERE

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #294!

Characters: Starscream & Cliffjumper & Bumblebee (TF Go! Go!)

Word count: 1.3k

Getting caught by the scrawny little red Autobot was one thing—being forced to slave over a hot stove cooking one batch of tasty looking donuts after another for anyone but him was just overkill. The minibots were a surprisingly hardy type, though, and Starscream kept his face down and his back turned to hide the scowl he wore as he dished out another set of perfectly puffy pastries and prepared to frost them.

It was bad enough that he had to be subjected to this ridiculous mess. He was supposed to be the one taking ‘bots hostage and making them cower, not those two little lovey-dovey freaks! Starscream grumbled under his breath just quiet enough for him to hear and reached for one half-empty piping bag after another and drizzled thick strings of frosting over the yummy smelling and fresh, oily donuts.

It just wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He didn’t dare speak out any longer after Cliffjumper had finally tackled him with those wild optics and fiery battle cry. Primus, Starscream just couldn’t seem to shake the nasty little blight… and he wasn’t about to try his luck any further while he was all done up in his embarrassing apron with a spatula in hand and his two enemies making sparkly optics at each other over the donuts he had prepared.

His grumbling continued as he tossed the hot donuts onto a plate and shoved them to the far end of the counter, and his glares down at the oil that he wished he was brave enough to direct towards the backs of those two minibots remained harsh and scathing as he pumped another batch of perfectly rounded rings of donut batter into the bubbling oil.

Suffering his fate in seething silence would have been plenty for him if it weren’t for the unintentional eavesdropping he was forced to indulge in. It was hard not to ignore the obnoxiously cheery voice and the happy hums of a mech getting stuffed beyond his capacity, and it only added more salt into the metaphorical wounds that Starscream’s ego bore. Still… it was entertainment, he supposed. Not his first choice, but it was entertainment nonetheless.

“Good?” Cliffjumper asked for the umpteenth time, his voice light and hopeful as though he’d been the one to cook it all up. He had prepped the kitchen, Starscream supposed, but all the real work landed on his shoulders, not Cliffjumper’s.

Starscream spared a glance over his shoulder and almost caught himself scoffing out loud at the sight. Cliffjumper sat with his elbows on the table and his helm propped in his servos as he watched Bumblebee savor one big bite of a donut after another. His pedes were kicking under the table and his smile as wide as ever as he nudged the half-empty plate closer with a giggle.

“Mm!” Bumblebee mumbled back, his cheeks puffed out with the mouthful of donuts. Starscream caught the slightest glimpse of his abdominal plating warped and rounded around his growing belly as he stuffed the last bite into his mouth and lick his lips. “Soooo good… you always have the best goodies, Cliff!”

Starscream could feel Cliffjumper turning his way with that smile going all smug before turning back to nudge the rest of the donuts even closer to Bumblebee, but he didn’t dare look. He kept his gaze down and moved quickly to scoop out the next batch of donuts from the oil—slag, he’d almost burnt these ones.

Stupid minibots and their sweet, silly little conversations… it was making it hard to focus.

The startling snarls and demands for him to “keep making donuts!” had stopped after the last batch, and as Starscream snatched up the prepped plate full of still-warm donuts with rich glazed frosting dribbling down their tops and turned to toss it onto the table, he caught a much clearer sight of the sappy scene playing out behind him than he would have liked to have seen.

Cliffjumper was holding up the last donut for Bumblebee to take now, and Primus, Bumblebee was shaking his helm. His belly was poking out from underneath the table now—it looked big enough to burst, and Starscream wondered just how much more the yellow minibot could take before his appetite was sated.

Starscream shook his helm, and the plate piled high with donuts clattered onto the table as he turned back to frost the last of the donuts. His work here was almost finished, at least, which meant he could finally be released… if he was lucky.

“Ohh, Cliff,” Bumblebee groaned from behind. “I dunno how I’m gonna fit another bite…”

Starscream allowed himself an optic-roll. He wasn’t sure either. He stirred the empty pot of oil idly as he listened for the sound of Cliffjumper’s fingers digging through the donut pile. Bumblebee groaned again, but Cliffjumper was quick to quiet him.

“Come on, just a little bit more,” the red minibot said. The smell of fresh donuts was wafting through the air, and Starscream had to try hard not to groan himself. “Just one more bite. One more bite—you can do that!”

He better, Starscream bitterly thought. It hadn’t been easy making all of those donuts for one greedy little minibot!

Starscream turned to watch Cliffjumper lean all the way over the table—nearly into his donuts, the damn mech—as he held out a donut for Bumblebee to take. The stuffed minibot hesitated for all of a moment before taking the donut in its entirety (slag, how did he even do that?!) and chewed, then swallowed it whole.

“See?” Cliffjumper teased. He was already reaching for another one. “You’ve got room!”

As if, Starscream thought with a toss of his helm. He busied himself with frosting the last of the donuts and tossed the remnants of the frosting bags aside as he threw the piles of donuts back onto a new plate. He wanted out of there, and he wanted out of there fast.

Bumblebee was nearly through with his plate of donuts when Starscream came over to drop the last of them onto the table. He wasn’t even sure how the minibot did it, but he knew it had something to do with the other red Autobot encouraging him to keep eating from the other end of the table. Cliffjumper’s optics were bright with excitement when he saw the goodies, and while Bumblebee rubbed his belly with a pained groan, the red minibot snuck a donut for himself.

“We’ll have to make sure you get plenty of belly rubs after this, Bee,” Cliffjumper assured his companion in between hums and bites. “Mmm… it’s good food, but it sure packs a punch when you’re stuffed full of it!”

“I’ll say,” Bumblebee groaned. He reached for the last donut on the plate with a great bit of effort before sagging into his chair and sighing. “They’re so good… but I’m so full.”

Belly rubs and comfort… ugh. Starscream wanted out of there before that all took place. He turned to head for the door while the two minibots were still distracted, but Cliffjumper was fast. A sharp servo snatching him by the edge of his apron stopped him in his tracks, and he turned with dread to find that same fake smile beaming up at him while the mech’s servo held him in an iron grip.

“Going so soon?” Cliffjumper said. “Good chefs clean up their messes, remember?”

And here Starscream thought he would be saved some suffering. Slag it all. With slumped shoulders and a scowl he didn’t try to hide, Starscream turned back to the kitchen counter and began to clean up. Behind him, Bumblebee had begun to feast on the last plate of donuts… and Cliffjumper egged him on all the more with every bite.

[anony-man]

Disaster Date

Part 2

TexAid Drabble of their budding courtship.

CW: a little spicey, but not too deep, chubformers, Tex being Tex

2469 words

... ... ...

“Are you sure you are okay seeing this movie?” First Aid asked for the umpteenth time. “I know all you have been talking about was that slasher story...”

“Ah yeah, it’s cool,” Vortex replied as he peeked ahead of the line's queue. “I know you aren’t into that kinda stuff, and I can catch it with Brawl later on.” He gave a broad smile to the red and white mech as an arm snaked around the cubby frame, pulling him in close. “Plus, I know you really wanted to see this.”

“Yes....the novel series was amazing!’ Aid chirped. “But I am sure the movie won’t be as good as the book.”

“I suppose.”

“Really, there is so much more to the writings. Like, your imagination just runs wild!”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Vortex discreetly patted at the thigh chub lovingly.

“Don’t you like reading?”

“Ehhh.....” His servo lifted and rocked back and forth. “Too many words for my taste.”

First Aid just rolled his optics and shook his helm at the typical Vortex response. Of course, he’d choose holovids over reading - they caught and kept his attention much more. Something functioned a tad bit differently in that chopper’s helm, from awkward insults that were meant as compliments to feeding chocolate-covered bugs.

But Vortex meant well. It may have taken a bit for the Autobot to realize it, but the feelings the ‘Con harbored for him were true. And over time, adoration sprouted and developed into a more proper courtship. And this courtship wasn’t terribly bad- once you looked past the little hiccups.  Who was perfect, after all?

But Vortex called him daily, usually in the morning before work. They video called while the medic got ready and during breakfast to chat about anything, while the flyer lazily lay in his berth. There was something about seeing ‘Tex sprawled in his berth, his helm propped up on his arms, optics groggily looking at him. Of course, this was not mentioned, for the response would be the too-soon invitation to join him.

The duo frequently saw each other throughout the week. The ‘Con would pick him up in the evenings and take him for nights out on the town that always ended in a sort of eatery to fill that belly. Sometimes the teal mech even stopped by his work to bring him some lunch to share in the staff break room.

Yes, Ratchet threw cautious glances his way- and even pulled his subordinate aside to make sure everything was going peachy.

The younger doctor didn’t blame his superior; Vortex was well known to be vile and strong-willed. But after plenty of reassurance that no boundaries were being crossed (well, serious ones, that is) and he was being careful, Ratchet backed off. Aid was an adult and could take care of himself.

That dread that once formed over running into the Combaticon soon turned to joy. There was just something about the way that ‘Con chased after him that made him feel desired. Yes, he was brazen. Yes, he was rough and a bit unrefined. And boy was he ever overprotective and a tad jealous, but the attention was nice. I mean, it wasn’t exactly like there were mechs lined up to date him, and it was only fair to give him a chance, right? And he actually felt safe with Vortex- what mech would dare mess with him when he was claimed by such a watchful lover?

“You ahh, want any snacks, babe?” Vortex asked as they approached the counter.

Aid bashfully smiled as he was pulled from his thoughts. “Of course I do.” His servo patted his own belly. “Snacks make the whole movie experience so much better.”

“Let me get two tickets for Sparks at First Sight,” Vortex spoke. “A large iced-energon. Hmmm.... a box of the junior ener-mints....” His gaze went to Aid. “Whatch ya want, babes?”

“A large popcorn, please.” Wide optics lovingly pleaded as he licked his lips. “With extra butter.”

“And a large popcorn.” A plastic card was taken out and handed to the cashier. “Don’t forget the extra butter.”

“You sure?” First Aid meant no insult when he went for his subspace to retrieve some credits, but he knew the other wasn’t exactly rolling in dough. Jobs were still scarce for some members of Cybertron during this newfound peace treaty. Times were improving, but not all members of their gestalt were able to secure lucrative positions. Vortex had just landed a position as a food delivery mech, and even with all five sharing a very modest apartment, cash was tight.

“Yeah, I got it.” A kiss pecked the side of a red helm. “I can treat my date for once.”

“’Tex... I really don’t mind...” His hand cradled a wad of credits.

“AH ah!” The ‘Con chided, pushing the offering away. “I ain't some cheap scrub, Aid.” His lips pressed together tightly, but quickly relaxed. “I wanna treat you once in a while, sweetcheeks. You know.... date you properly.”

“Okay- but-“

“No buts. Here, hold this....” A large tub of popcorn was handed over as the tickets were snagged, along with the drink and the box of candy. “What theater we in?”

“Tex. I’m being serious here.” Aid pouted. “You do date me properly...I don’t mean-“

“Toots, it’s fine.” A genuine smile spread on his face. “I’ve got it covered. Which theater?”

“Five.” Aid said while munching on his snack. “Over here.”

... ...

“Why all the way back here?” First Aid asked as he climbed the steps, following his date to the back row of the theater. “There were plenty of seats-“

“The back row is always the best.” Vortex grinned. “No one kicks your seats or any of that scrap.”

“Okay, okay.” Aid sighed, slipping into the back row and sitting down in the center. A loud snap was heard, “Oofff...”

“Something wrong, sweetcheeks?” Vortex sat down, placing his drink in the cup holder and working on opening his box of candy.

“AH...heh heh...” Aid shimmied in the chair. “Embarrassingly enough, I kinda just fit in these chairs.” His soft, plentiful tummy rolls squished above the armrests while plump thighs bulged out underneath. These chairs really held his oversized frame in place! “I look sausaged...”

“You look sexy.” A servo reached out, but paused right above that swell of a gut. “Um..... may I?”

“Keep it appropriate.”

No sooner those words escaped the medic’s mouth did that hand slap against the front of that belly, causing the flab to shake and jiggle. Yes, he had put on weight since courting ‘Tex.  While there were no pricey gifts of rare gems or expensive surprises (nor were they needed), the 'Con always appeared with a tasty treat in hand, be it fresh cupcakes or rich slices of cake. Not to mention a good chunk of their dates were spent around a table, mindlessly munching on food.

Well, Aid munched, Vortex talked, and happily encouraged that belly to be stuffed near bursting point. But either way, the added meals took their toll on his hips, which just barely fit in the seat.

Giving the soft mesh one final squeeze, the ex-interrogator grabbed a side roll and lifted it. “Here.....”

Aid nearly yelped, preparing to yell at how invasive the touch was, but all Vortex did was lift the armrest up. Once the chub was released, it freely melted out in the newly found space.

“Better?” Aid nodded his helm. “Lift up the other side, too, babes, then snuggle in close to me.”  The Autobot did just that, getting comfortable while the screen flickered with images as the movie began. “Here, give me the popcorn.”

“But I’m eating it still-“

“I’ll hold it on my lap for you.” Aid handed it over, and Vortex shifted, really focused on getting the tub perfectly on his lap for some odd reason. “There. Now you can snuggle in and get comfortable without worrying about spilling the popcorn.” An arm was thrown around the medic in a welcoming fashion, and Aid snuggled in, making sure he had one arm free to snack on the warm, buttery popcorn.

The move played on, and the slow build of the love story thickened. Aid occasionally stole glances at Vortex, fearing the other would show disinterest, but the flier sat there with a pleased smile on his face. While odd, he wasn’t going to complain. Instead, he snuggled in closer and reached into the tub for another handful of popcorn.

This really was the best movie treat. Freshly popped cyber-corn, still warm from cooking, that was slathered in rich butter, hit the spot. Handful after handful, the treat was devoured, leaving a slightly salty aftertaste in his mouth. But swallowing every mouthful tasted like another.

 Nothing compares to eating freshly popped corn at the movies while snuggled in the arms of your lover!

The red servo dipped in for another handful. Some digging occurred, the warm butter smearing all over his fingers. But as that hand closed, it brushed against something, but the medic paid no mind. His hand was full, and his mouth was empty.

“Hmmmmm.... this part's gonna be good,” Aid whispered before shoving the handful into his mouth. He rested his helm on a green shoulder, smiling to himself as he felt a chaste kiss press to his helm and that arm hugging against his softened side. And yes, that arm wrapped around him drifted downward, the servo resting on the swell of his side to gently knead at the soft mesh.

Who would have thought events would have led up to this? Him snuggling in a once feared Decepticon’s arms? Never in a million vorns would Aid have imagined the desire to be near this mech, let alone courting him. It’s funny how things panned out.

Another handful of popcorn was grabbed, and another brush of something odd in the popcorn tub. It was hard, but not unyielding. But the scene playing on the big screen snagged his attention, and the Autobot excitedly popped more buttery popped kernels into his mouth.

The legendary first kiss between the main characters! And it was just as sweet and dreamy as he could imagine! Oh, the joys of secret crushes being revealed.... the joys of doe-like optics staring into the others... the joys of lips pressing together slowly at first, but then deepening in a passionate kiss!

Unlike his and ‘Tex’s first kiss... which involved a wet, slobbery tongue being shoved down his throat. However, the chopper more than made up for that with the second attempt. They had just shared a romantic dinner date at a semi-fancy restaurant, guaranteed to be free of chocolate-covered bugs and served food that Vortex deemed safe to eat. But the evening was spent sipping fruity engex and engaging in chit-chat. The pair even shared a slice or two of rich cheesecake slathered with fresh cyber-strawberries- well, Aid ate his and polished off most of his date's dessert.

At the end of the evening, the ‘Con surprised the medic by being a perfect gentlemech and walking him home. And at his front door, the flier smiled sweetly and slowly dipped his helm in for a kiss. And this one was nice- just like the one on the big screen. Those lips brushed gently against his, gently sucking at the lower lip before gently dipping his tongue inside. It was sweet. It was respectful. It was so, so good.

And there was something odd in this popcorn bucket! His servo fished around some more, his servo nearly wrapping around what lay buried in a pile of popcorn, but Vortex squirmed in his seat. Blue optics looked up. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.... yeah...” Vortex stifled a grin. “Go on.... enjoy the popcorn.” He huffed out a sigh. “And the movie... of course.”

Another handful of popcorn emerged to be shoved into a hungry mouth. Aid’s focus returned to the movie, enjoying the sweet romance playing before him. But when his hand returned to the bucket and pressed against something hard, Vortex sucked in a breath and stifled a groan.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Y...yeah... yeah, I’m good.” Vortex quickly answered. “Go on. Enjoy your movie and snack.”

Aid continued to dig- whatever was inside this popcorn bucket was a master at slipping out of his butter-smeared fingers. Another earnest attempt to grab was made, but Vortex’s engines stuttered as if threatening to rumble to life.

“Tex....” Aid froze with widened optics.

“Yeah?”

“Your frame feels warm.” Blue optics stared into red. “Are you feeling ill?”

“No... no.... I...I’m fine.” One of ‘Tex’s servos covered his mouth, and he sank deeper into the chair. “Go on. Eat up.”

Was it out of the ordinary for the Combaticon to be acting out of the ordinary? Aid returned to digging for another handful of popcorn. And digging for whatever was buried within the light and fluffy popped kernels. It was in the center, and Aid slowly dug around until fingers clasped around it. It was firm and slippery, and when his hand grasped around it, it stiffened.

“What the....” Aid tilted his helm, and Vortex bit his lower lip. His servo traced the object upward, fingertips brushing against a mix of bumps and smooth plating. Was there a hidden prize in the center of this popcorn? The medic’s grip tightened, raising higher until it reached a small ledge, then a rounded, tapered tip.

His optics shot open.

Vortex moaned as engines slightly revved.

The hand swiftly retreated from the popcorn tub as if bitten by a cybersnake.

“Vortex!” Aid’s mouth dropped. “What the slag?”

“What?”

“Shhhhhhh!” A random mech called out.

“Why the frag would you do that?” The Autobot fiercely whispered.

“Do what?”

“You know....” Aud huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Put your... your rod in the popcorn tub?”

By now, Vortex was holding back giggles, that dreaded toothy grin plastered over his face. “Oh, come on.... It’s the oldest trick in the book! I mean yeah, my spike gets covered in hot butter, but it’s sure worth it to feel you digging around in there-“

“You.... you are such a pig!” Aid growled. “I... I don’t know what goes through that processor of yours!”

“Aww. Calm down, no one knows.”

“No one knows? I know. And now your spike is covered in popcorn and butter!”

Vortex shrugged. “Well, you wanna lick it off?”

Aids' face dropped in shock.

“Come on, we are in the back row, no one will notice-“

“Just when I think.....” Aid didn’t even finish. He slammed his peds down, then stood up.” That’s the thing- I didn’t think. I.....” The Autobot clenched his fists and shook his helm as he side-stepped through the aisle of seats away from the flier.

“Hey, where are you going?” Vortex called out. “You’re gonna miss the rest of the movie!”

“I know how it ends. I read the book!”

[anony-man]

Gassy Ons.laught

alt version below cut. Better out than in right? Well, our dear On.s is embarrassed about his indigestion and the expulsion of gas.

cw: fart under cut

[anony-man]

Obsessed Much?

gift art and story for @mr-miss-anonymous thank you ever so much for helping me with things and being there!

story: bla/st of/f x on/slaught cw: chub

After being shocked by discovering Blast Off is madly in love with him, Onslaught soon discovers perhaps it is not only the flier who has an obsession….

[anony-man]

Feeling like shit all week and the best cure for it is a doctor who can actually help… but that is impossible at the moment

[anony-man]

the thing about d/s is that for virtually any ship i can be sold on either character in either role. arguments about whether a given character could or would dom are virtually always deeply silly and tend, when they lean into the idea that a given character could never dom because they're just too weak-willed, incompetent, naive, or helpless, to be the product of unexamined biases percolating up.

would this character dom (or sub) is almost never an interesting question. how would this character dom (or sub) is much more interesting. what do they get out of it? how do they feel about it? how experienced are they? are they confident or awkward? what kinks do they enjoy? what are their limits and how do they communicate them? what is the dynamic with their partner like? does it shift in the bedroom, or does it stay the same? et cetera. the same as any good erotica, it's got to be about these specific people, not faceless automatons filling the prescribed roles, or it's boring

[anony-man]

(Previous drabble here)

Chubformers drabble #293!

Characters: Overlord & Sparklings (IDW)

Word count: 1.2k

Cybertron’s surface was bursting with new life anymore, and Overlord loved it. His new designated role as the caretaker to the feral little one he had decidedly called his own had morphed into something bigger than Overlord could have ever imagined—there more sparklings filling up his home and warming his spark now than ever before, and with each passing day that he opened his door to the bright little faces and welcomed them inside, more and more came to join him.

Overlord didn’t mind bringing the little bundles of energy whenever his own sparkling asked. Little ones were little ones regardless, and in his home, everyone was welcome. The numbers of untamed and shrieking bitlets running to and fro down the halls and through the rooms. His own playful sparkling was a social one, as he was starting to realize, and with every new friend they made, Overlord’s home gained a new visitor.

The past was far behind them all now, and the future was safe and bright. No one protested Overlord’s new and accidental role of official babysitter for all the little ones who came to visit and play, and Overlord certainly didn’t mind. He had turned a new leaf with his own one, and he’d proven that time and time again. Adding one or two dozen more to the mix was nothing for the old, retired mech. It made his days bright, if anything, and it kept his home lively.

As much as he enjoyed being the designated “coolest bot around,” Overlord found out more often than not how hard it was to keep things under wraps when he was dealing with a bunch of curious little processors and wide optics occasionally watching him sit in his rocking chair and observe them from the corner of the room. Little ones were always going to be curious—it was in their coding, after all. Learning was how they grew, and growing was the ultimate goal… after eating all day, playing for just as long, sleeping on occasion, and being naughty little nuisances that Overlord couldn’t help but love, of course. There were priorities to being a sparkling, and it just so happened that curiosity and a constant need for answers was at the top of most of their little lists.

Overlord took it all in stride—the blunt questions and innocent optics watching him smile through vague answers, the gentle cooing and back rubs whenever one of the poor little sparklings took a rather rough tumble, and of course, his most favorite time of the day, lounging in his chair as the horde of friends his own sparkling had made gathered around on his lap and his chair’s armrest and around his pedes on the floor for the best part of their visits: story time. Eating snacks and letting their little imaginations run wild was fun, but nothing ever beat curling up against Overlord’s soft belly and snuggling together as he rumbled through a soft retelling of whatever story they wanted to hear.

Overlord was a good storyteller; he made it all sound so magical, and he kept their attention with every word. The best part was that each story was true, albeit a little adjusted for the innocent audience. He could grow like the little ones warming his lap and clinging to his pedes—he could finally let the past settle and embrace a softer, warmer future with dozens of sparklings all cozied up at his side.

His engines purred as he patted one helm after another and hugged the little ones curling up against his chest closer. His own sparkling was perched on his shoulder and struggling to keep their helm up as they nuzzled into his neck. Story time was the best time for all of them—despite the fun and chaos that came with having so many little ones running around his home, Overlord enjoyed getting to help them all settle for a bit of light recharging while he rumbled his way through a gentle retelling.

The little ones were always desperate for war stories, and Overlord could only imagine where they might have heard the ideas from. He hated that they were exposed so soon… the past was the past after all, and their future was free of those dark days so far. Still, he had plenty of tales to share that were sparkling-appropriate according to him. Most of them he had told dozens of times over already, but no one ever seemed to care. They were far too cozy cuddled up against the soft pudge of his belly to protest, and their little snores filled the air one after another as he dove into a gentle story.

“Tell us about all the places you’ve been again, won’t you?” a little flier said as she tugged on his leg. She was perched on top of his pede and nuzzling into his armor, her touch faint enough that Overlord almost didn’t feel her there. “The planets you visited, tell us about those.”

Overlord’s plump face split into another one of his soft and amused smiles. That was their favorite story so far—almost every day he was telling it through some new angle. He tapped his chin with a chubby finger and made a show of searching his processor as he hummed aloud. All around him, the sparklings closed in and snuggled up together against his soft, warm frame.

“The planets, hmm?” Overlord spoke in his sweet southern drawl. “Why, haven’t I told that story a thousand times over by now?”

His gentle teasing earned him a chorus of whines and protests from the bundles of frames around his belly and the few huddled up against his pedes on the floor. Overlord was quick to follow up with a bit of light laughter as he patted the helms closest to him and shook his own helm.

“Easy now, easy,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and began to rock. “I know it’s all your favorite… well, where should I begin?”

It didn’t matter much how he started it or how he ended it. By the time he was a few words in, the snores that filled the air nearly drowned out his words. He carried on, though, his voice carried up above the sleepy sounds and ringing out like gentle white noise that lulled them all deeper into recharge. He scooped his dozing sparkling up off of his shoulder and brought them closer to his chest as he rocked, then did the same for every little sparkling huddled around his lap and dotting the floor. His lap was full of sleeping little ones by the time he was finished, but his storytelling hadn’t missed a beat. He kept talking as they dozed, his voice soft and his words familiar.

It was such a wonderful change from his messy past. His home was alive with life and color anymore, and his spark was full to bursting. He treasured every second, though he favored these moments more than anything. It was perfect—everything was perfect. The leaf had been turned, and his reputation was changed. He wasn’t the big, scary mech he used to be anymore… now, he was the soft, fat, and lovable mech the little ones all gravitated to and cherished, and for Overlord, that was the best redemption he could have ever asked for.

[anony-man]

get some rest, eat some soup, and take naps my friend. hope you feel better.

Awwww thank you 🥹 I appreciate it! Hoping to feel better in a few days 🙏

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #292!

Characters: Megatron & Optimus (TFA)

Word count: 1.7k

At first, the faint rattling that echoed down the hall and the clatter from the kitchen was nothing but white noise that had Megatron grumbling in his sleep and turning onto his side to reach for his conjux and pull them into a sleepy snuggle. When his servos hit the empty berth and he cracked his optics open to find nothing but space in front of him, however, he started to worry.

Optimus was not a heavy sleeper by any means, but he didn’t just leave their berth in the middle of the night. He would always snuggle into Megatron’s side, or he would reach for a datapad and scroll the contents on the lowest lighting settling.

Megatron lay there on his side of the berth for a little while longer, his sluggish processor working to think about where Optimus may have gone and why he wasn’t still here in the berth with him. It was far too chilly to get up from the warm space he had created for himself in his deep sleep, but he was worried about Optimus now. How long had he been gone? Was he at least coming back to the room when he was finished?

Another noisy sound that echoed down the hallway caused Megatron to startle out of his drowsy state, and the long string of silence that followed left him feeling on edge. Something was definitely wrong here, and now he hardly felt sleepy enough to brush it off and get cozy again. Optimus wasn’t here, and something told him that whatever chaos was going on out in the kitchen had everything to do with the reason why he had left.

Megatron went on full alert as he silently slid from the berth and got up to his pedes. He crept towards the doorway with his frame tensed and his optics narrowed, ready for whatever intrusion lay waiting for him around the corner. The sounds grew louder as he moved one step after another down the hall, and as he pressed himself close to the wall and peered around the corner, he prepared himself for whatever mess might be taking place.

The clattering of dishes against countertops had stopped, and in the darkness, the room was dimly lit by a light from the open fridge. It took him a moment for his optics to shift from the dark shadows in the hallway to the bright light illuminating a big frame crouching in from of the fridge, but as Megatron crept closer and closer and prepared for a fight, his vision adjusted, and his racing spark settled.

“Optimus?” he called out softly, his optics widening and his brows raised.

The hunched figure crouched in front of the kitchen and raiding its contents wasn’t an intruder after all, Megatron realized, but instead his chubby conjux looking terribly guilty with streaks of chocolate staining his face as he whipped his helm around to see Megatron standing there and watching him. He wiped his face with the back of his servo and stood upright with a flustered sound and darkening faceplates that reflected a bright blue blush in the light of the open refrigerator.

“Megatron!” Optimus gasped back a little louder before hunching in on himself again and covering the open fridge with his frame. He glanced between the shelves of food from the earlier evening’s dinner and dessert stored inside and back to Megatron, who couldn’t seem to keep the amusement from showing on his face. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No?” Megatron said. He stepped a little closer, passing the chairs and furniture until he was standing mere feet from where Optimus tried to hide his evidence. “I had thought there was someone trying to break in. When I awoke to the sounds in the kitchen and found you absent from my berth—“

“There are no intruders,” Optimus quickly reassured him, “just me.”

Megatron made a thoughtful sound. The smile on his face grew as he moved even closer. “Yes, yes, right… you and your late night appetite, hmm?”

Optimus’ big belly and widening waistline were almost enough to hide the half-eaten chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf in the fridge, but it wasn’t quite enough. Megatron was already chuckling as he brushed his servo against the curve of Optimus’ lower belly while wiping away the residue chocolate and crumbs from Optimus’ cheek with his other thumb. Poor Optimus, the blushing mess that he was, could only glance guiltily at the ground as Megatron popped his thumb into his mouth and licked it clean.

“Mmm,” he hummed aloud as he popped it back out, “that is quite delicious. Haven’t you gotten enough to eat from dinner earlier, my precious Prime?”

The guilty expression Optimus wore faded back into something simply flustered and self-conscious as he lifted his sticky, chocolate-streaked servo to hold his belly. Megatron intertwined their fingers as he watched Optimus’ cheeks flush a darker blue, and he chuckled a little more as Optimus struggled to give a fair response.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Optimus assured him. “You’ve fed me plenty already. I was just… restless, I suppose.”

“Ah.” Megatron nodded his helm in understanding. “Restless and peckish, I imagine?”

He savored the way Optimus refused to meet his gaze. The poor chubby mech was still stumbling over his words when Megatron interrupted and reached past him into the fridge.

“Well, I certainly can’t be having that,” he said as he drew his servo away from Optimus’ belly to hold the leftover cake steady in both servos. “A little late night snacking never hurt anyone, anyway.”

He turned and headed back towards the hall, but stopped when he realized Optimus was still standing in front of the open fridge and looking helpless and confused. He offered his conjux another sly smile as he nodded his helm towards their berthroom and shrugged a shoulder in a beckoning gesture.

“Come on, then,” he said as he continued on down the hall. “You have a cake to finish, and I have a belly to feed. Why not take care of both where it’s warm and cozy?”

The berth was much cozier than standing alone in the kitchen, and Megatron only had to wait a few moments before Optimus was following him inside and crawling next to him to fill up the empty space. The half-eaten cake sat in the small space left from Optimus’ big, soft belly filling out more than half of the berth, and as Optimus reached for the fork that was left sitting on the edge of the platter, Megatron gently swatted his servo away.

“No more of that now,” he teasingly chided. “Allow me, Optimus.”

The cake was rich moist in all three layers, and in between the layers and slathered on top were even thicker layers of indulgent chocolate frosting. Megatron scooped up half of the cake’s edge into his curled servo and held it out for Optimus to eat with a gentle sound and a beckoning nudge. With soft optics desperate for reassurance and a fresh face ready to be smeared dirty again with the rest of the cake left to eat, Optimus leaned forward and took the first bite held out to him from Megatron’s palm.

“There,” Megatron purred as he watched Optimus’ optics close in pure bliss as he chewed. “Much better. Here, have another bite.”

He gathered the next clump of chocolate cake and rich frosting into his servo and held it out for Optimus to take, but when Optimus moved in to eat it, Megatron pulled back.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted softly, “allow me now.”

All Optimus needed to do was open his mouth and allow Megatron to feed him, and that was exactly what he did. He hummed his appreciation as Megatron stuffed the next messy bite into his mouth, and he groaned between chewing as Megatron wiped the creamy frosting from his lips before holding his finger out for Optimus to lick clean. Optimus did just that, and he obeyed Megatron again when his conjux gathered up a massive mouthful into his palm and gently forced it past his lips.

The berth was a mess of crumbs and dribbles of frosting as Optimus ate, and Megatron’s servo was caked with chocolate. He ate slowly and enjoyed every bite he was fed, and he took Megatron’s fingers one at a time and suckled them clean whenever he was beckoned. The rich chocolate cake was polished off in no time with Megatron hand-feeding him one big bite after another, and when he held up the sticky, stained platter for Optimus to lick clean, Optimus did just that.

Optimus was in heaven as his belly swelled out in front of him and his tanks gurgled happily. His hunger was satiated yet again, and his belly was stuffed. Dinner had seemed so far behind them when he first woke up to the angry rumbles of his poor tanks, but now he felt sleepy again, and satisfied, and comfortably stuffed as he moved from licking the cake platter clean to lapping at the cake and frosting that still stuck to Megatron’s servo.

Megatron drew him in close and nuzzled his chin against Optimus’ helm as soon as the job was finished. He tossed the cake platter to the end of the berth and snaked his servo in between their warm frames to rub and fondle Optimus’ soft, stuffed belly again. Optimus was already looking tired—his optics were hardly staying open as he yawned again and again into Megatron’s warm chest. Faint streaks of chocolate still stained his cheeks and clung to his lips, but Megatron left it for now. Tomorrow, they could clean things up.

“Better?” he rumbled softly, his optics growing bright in the dark room.

He felt Optimus mumble into his chest—something affirmative as he nodded his helm.

“Good,” Megatron said, “but next time… please wake me. I always love to be the one filling up that belly for myself.”

There was something about Optimus’ soft frame digging through the kitchen as he thought no one would find him that made Megatron’s spark flutter, but this was even better. Getting to fill up the Prime’s belly when he suffered from the nighttime munchies was going to happen again, he was sure, and he didn’t want to miss it for the world—or for sleep, no matter how tired he may be.

[anony-man]

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