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makiyousuke · 1 day ago

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Forcefemming Prowl but it’s Devastator doing it. The combiner’s consciousness is perfectly aware of what’s in Prowl’s *sub*conscious, and it knows its other components consider Prowl somewhat delicate, soft, in need of protection. Brilliant, but. Fussy. Needy. Devastator knows. And it knows exactly how exciting its components would find its… interference. How irresistibly hot its original components would find feminizing its newest one, how well they would help it progress Prowl along. Maybe this wayward component just needs some *realignment*.

Devastator moves slowly, prompting and pulling at his components over long stretches. Maneuvering them to its liking with all of the calculating power its newest component has gifted it. Little, subtle things at first. To emphasize the difference between his five remaining original components and their cute, brilliant, *fussy* little sixth. Unit Prowl doesn’t seem to realize how soft and small he really is. Devastator can fix that. She’ll be a good girl before long.

First things first, it tugs at their bonds and drags them closer. Less and less private time, even for his originals, until the new part is integrated. Prowl steams and grumbles, but even he can’t deny that the feels queasy and miserable when he avoids them. Giving in and seeking them out or letting the constructicons linger near him rapidly becomes the only comfort for it. Devastator happily rewards them all, floods their bonds and frames with feel-good chemicals and relaxation until Prowl visibly sighs with relief at the sight of them. Good, Devastator’s components should be good and stay close by if not all together. And Prowl will be buried in the combiner’s lovely rewards for it until his frame understands he needs them. No more private time or space. No more naughty, defiant components. Of course, with the constructicons around almost all the time, they can’t help but notice Prowl’s daily struggles.

It’s only reasonable to help their smallest, most delicate component get things off of high shelves! The constructicons begin lifting Prowl off of counters by his waist, caressing his mesh with large thumbs before setting him down and grabbing what he needs for him. Admonishing him for reckless behavior when big mecha are right there to help him. Doesn’t Prowl know how dangerous climbing like that can be? No, go on, give them the statistics. They know you know. And, pouting, Prowl does, feeling oddly chastised and warm at the same time. Eventually Prowl stops even trying, doesn’t even notice when he started waiting and whining for help. Cranky when they tease, remembering the feeling of their hands on his waist with shivers of something he won’t name. If they take it too far Prowl will turn right around with a huff and start climbing up on the counter (or shelf or etc)… only to have his aft swatted playfully and be dragged back down by the hips. They’re just bigger than him, just *stronger* than him—even clinging to the counter won’t save him from ending up coddled in their arms, clutching his coffee mug.

Escalation, then. Devastator tugs his pieces around. Prowl’s libido begins to rise alongside feverish dreams he can’t quite remember. The constructicons carry things for him now, open doors for him, guide him around with huge hands on the small of his back or the sensitive edge of his wing. They’re just so *touchy* now, and no amount of snapping or smacking at their hands has stopped them. Bonecrusher in particular like to make pretend pained noises and shake out his hand mockingly. Scavenger just gives him the most betrayed look, and Prowl can’t bear seeing it directed at him again—this is how the rest manage to get their foot in the door. Letting Scavenger pet and fuss over him emboldens the others. And now Prowl’s so aroused all of the time that his fantasies are turning green and purple. They’re just so big. So strong. He’s helpless to resist and fighting to remember why he should. Slowly, ever so slowly Devastator shifts Prowl’s dreams and desires from control and power to submission and release. Occasionally lets the other components into the dreams to show Prowl how ridiculous they are: of course he can’t overpower someone so big and strong. But they’ll let their cute little boss fuss and whine and pretend he hates it all. Long Haul loves getting let into these dreams. He likes to take Prowl’s thighs in hand and *push* them up to his shoulders, into a mating press, before teasing that cute little valve with just the tip of his spike. Until Prowl’s valve *aches* at the thought of being taken care of rather than taking control. Until he’s ready to beg and plead instead of demand and order. Already unit cohesion is improving! Devastator’s satisfaction only grows as his component’s general conditions improve.

Eventually Prowl can’t take it anymore, he’s swimming in charge near constantly from all of the *touching* and the humiliating feeling of being humored by mechs who know he’s not nearly as strong as them. Devastator has helped that along, meddling combiner helping to attach their size, their power, their masculinity to Prowl’s arousal. Helps keep Prowl needy and desperate by sending more arousal out of nowhere, to keep his charge high. No relief, no release. Every time Prowl’s spike tries to harden Devastator partially aborts the code. It only ever gets semi hard, only ever sort of extends. It leaves Prowl pulling at it fruitlessly, near to tears with desperation as he toys and strokes his half limp spike.

“Cuteee,” comes Scavenger’s voice from the door, and Prowl freezes. Suddenly he’s crowding Prowl’s space, nudging and petting the limp little spike with a finger. “So cute, boss,” he mumbles again, and Prowl’s shock fades to anger. Just as he’s about to yell and order Scavenger out, the fingers slip lower and stroke a tiny circle on Prowl’s node instead. A moan tumbles out of Prowl’s open mouth instead, cutting off the rant. Scavenger coos, visor brightening the same way Prowl knows it always does when he sees something *adorable*. “I think your pussy wants to play,” Scavenger continues conversationally, “not your cute little clitty.” And then, because he isn’t nearly as stupid as most mechs want to think, he pushes a finger into Prowl’s valve before that processor can catch up. By the time Scavenger’s fingered Prowl to his third overload, his little boss is limp with pleasure and obediently spreading his legs for more.

“That’s a good girl,” Scavenger croons, wiping up the mess, “you liked that a lot, huh?” And Prowl, already mostly asleep, simply sighs in utter bliss.

Devastator makes sure everyone gets a turn, tugging his components towards Prowl via their bond any time his increasingly needy sixth tries to masturbate. And they *all* call him a good girl, a sweet one, so pretty. All theirs, splayed out and wanting. Suddenly it’s all about Prowl’s valve, even when they toy with his limp spike and tease him about its size, until even the mech himself reaches right for his node and his empty hole first. The constructicons like to grope his aft when leading him around now, hands at his waist. Some like to slip a few fingers between his thighs and stroke at his panels, testing Prowl’s composure in public. At first he snaps and complains, cheeks heating with embarrassment at the public setting. Anyone could see, and people already don’t like or respect him! But before long the big hands massaging his aft and panel have Prowl pushing back into the touches. And when Prowl stops whining and protesting, Devastator urges them all on to the next step.

Hook and Mixmaster take control of Prowl’s diet. Devastator demands some weight on those struts, some curves for their good girl. Prowl tries to protest, tries to claim he’s not a girl, that he’s a man— they all just chuckle indulgently or kiss him quiet again. If Devastator says Prowl’s a girl, then Prowl’s always been their girl. She just doesn’t know it yet. And Devastator keeps Prowl hungry, keeps him horny and pliant when they hold him on their laps and feed him by hand. Talking over his helm as they stuff his mouth and stroke his panel. Let Prowl ride their thighs as he swallows down more and more medicated energon. Mixmaster in particular likes to tease Prowl with his treats, tracing that pouting mouth with them until Prowl tries to bite down before pulling away. Holds Prowl’s hips with one hand and guides him into grinding against the bigger mech’s thigh. Sometimes he’ll swipe a treat through Prowl’s lubricants before letting the mech have it. Sometimes he makes Prowl beg for them, makes his girl give him little kisses and beg for “her” delicious little treats. It gets him so hard, when Prowl begs for the very energon that’s already giving him those cute little tits and that growing aft he claims to hate so much. They might believe him if he could stop touching them.

The curves come in beautifully, Devastator thinks. And Prowl, never allowed to sit alone at the table, no longer even tries. He doesn’t know when he started perching himself on laps and thighs rather than get dragged into them, but the sore aft he earns himself when he tries to take his own seat just isn’t worth it. The spanking is as humiliating and painful as it is arousing, and his aft jiggles so enticingly with each swat. And they don’t stop until Prowl was crying and promising to be a good girl, aft stinging and face burning. Apologizing for being so bold. Even as lubricant begins to well at the seams of his panels. As his final “punishment” Prowl has to spikewarm Bonecrusher for the entirety of the meal like a cockslut instead of sitting prettily like a good little wifey. Pussy stuffed with cock, licking his dinner out of his fingers instead of the usual coddling. It gets Prowl so wet even as Devastator punishes him with feelings of failure and dejection.

They stay cold to him for the rest of the night, dismissive and short. It’s something of a struggle for the constructicons, given how miserable Prowl starts to look when they won’t hold him or stroke his plating. Little tears pricking at his optics as he sits on a sore aft to read. But Devastator insists, won’t let all this hard work on their newest member be wasted by a silly bid for independence. Prowl doesn’t need independence, Devastator knows, she needs her husbands to keep her in line and taken care of. Then they’ll all be happiest. Then they’ll all be most efficient.

Hook offers Prowl the out: if she’s really ready to be a good girl again she’ll do anything to prove it, right? And Prowl finds he really would. So when Hook hands him a little outfit and orders him to go put it on, he does.

And when Prowl sees the mech in the mirror there’s really no denying it anymore. Prowl’s face is soft and dimpled now. Breasts swelling tenderly against the fabric of the new dress. Nipples hardening against the lacy bra. That’s a set of childbearing hips, there, and some deliciously thick thighs. The aft covered by the lavender panties is juicy and round. Every inch of the mech in the mirror is soft and effeminate. Especially in comparison to the gestalt members in the living room. The bolt of arousal that sends through Prowl’s frame doesn’t even stir the limp spike in its housing, but the node that glows through the fabric of the panties *throbs*. Prowl gives it a sweet little stroke and moans at the feeling of the panties brushing against it. The mech in the mirror is a *very* good girl. The second Prowl thinks it for herself, Devastator gives her an overload.

“There we go, princess,” Hook purrs. “That was perfect.”

“Just like you, Prowl,” someone else praises. Prowl just moans and reaches towards them, desperately aroused and helpless to do anything about it. Long Haul’s huge fingers play with her node through the fabric of her panties. Scavenger massages her breasts from behind. And all Prowl can do is take it like a good girl, helpless to the whims of the big strong mechs in her gestalt and loving every minute of it. She’s about to be the most spoiled little princess on Cybertron. They tell her she needs it, she’s so delicate she needs them. Devastator tells her she loves it, loves them. Good component, good girl, good little wife. Prowl overloads again with a squeal.

aw lawrd... sorry, i don't have much to say, this is just perfect. i love it when Devastator meddles with his new components. especially when it's implied that he can reach for them even when they're not combined.

#constructiprowl #dude...fuck

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makiyousuke · 4 days ago

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And now here we have the more info post.

What's all this then? This is a bingo event. What that means is that you sign up during the scheduled sign up period, and then I, the skeleton behind this Tumblr account, will send you a randomized 4x4 bingo card with 16 prompts ready to go.

I don't want this and that thing. The full list will be provided when sign up begins and you'll be able to opt out of prompts that you absolutely do not want to get on your card, up to 3 total.

Is this a fanfic only event? No definitely not! You can write, you can create art, you can make a fanvid, you can do whatever fandom activity tickles your fancy.

How do I WIN? You can get a bingo in different ways. Maybe create one big thing with a line of four prompts. Maybe create four smaller things with a different prompt each. Maybe go crazy and cover the entire card for the ultimate bingo.

WHAT do I win? The honor and pride of a job well done, yaaay.

Are there any rules about content? Don't create things with generative AI. Otherwise no. You know what you're about, create what you want. No minimum word count, no maximum word count. Any rating you feel like doing, any format. Be nice. Be chill.

What's the timeline like on this? The sign-up period will be three weeks long. The cards will be sent out by email over the following week. After that you're free, there's no deadline for completing works. Above all else we will be keeping this chill. I will be making a round-up post of sorts after a couple months and I will post about that to let people know, so if you want a creation deadline, you've got that to work toward.

Why this weirdness obsession of yours, Ms. Skeleton? I decided to start this thing to encourage people to let go of some of the insecurities and second-guesses they might have built up. Fandom's supposed to be kind of silly, to me. People get so serious about it though. Not everything's gotta be serious, you know?

Hey! That prompt isn't weird at all! I want my money back. One person's sex pollen is another person's mundane AU. And anything can be done off the wall, if you try. I've done my best to make the prompt pool a good mix of different types of unusual.

Okay but WHEN? Soon. July. I will make a post probably a week or so before sign-ups begin as a warning.

If you've got any more questions not covered already, feel free to send an ask.