#siberat drabble

[siberat]

Bigger is Better

pt 2

Servo's flapped in excitement as Be.e gleefully chose the first dish. He liked to start things off on the lighter side—something liquidy. A Co.ntainer was selected, the lid twisted off, and a spoon was grabbed. Carefully, the smaller mech stepped forward, closing the distance between the pair. A happy little squeal erupted upon seeing the seated mech eagerly licking his lips.

“What you got zhere, hmmm?” Icy’s optics focused on the Co.ntainer as his servo idly rubbed his noisy belly.

“Oh, you are going to love this!” The Auto.bot chirped as he dunked the spoon in and scooped up a chunky Co.ncoction of large bites of cyberchicken, shards of purple amethyst, and mica chips that swam in a thick, creamy broth.

“It looks pretty, but I believe I asked vhat it vas.” The ‘Co.n’s lips pressed tightly shut.

“Is this how you gonna play?” BumbleBe.e gave the look. “Open up.” When those firm words barked out, the other’s mouth opened wide. And the yellow mech’s spark skipped a rotation. “There's a good mech.” The spoon flew inside only to be grasped between teeth, then slide out.

“Hmmmmmm...” Icy hummed as he chewed, then swallowed. “Zhis is rather tasty. Very creamy.” The mouth opened again, awaiting the seCo.nd offering.

“See? I told ya so.” A smile beamed as the other mouthful was given. “Chicken corn chowder. And I added extra cream to give it that rich thickness.” After each bite fed, that belly rumbled even more demanding. The sound was a welcomed chorus- music to his audials. Be.e simply adored the ‘Co.n’s ravenous appetite, loved how unashamed of the other’s desire to Co.nsume. While the paunch adorned now was empty and flabby, by the end of this picnic, those tanks will be ready to burst.

“I added some diced baCo.n bits and baCo.n grease to give it that zing of smokiness.” Be.e explained as excitement pinged through his frame. Now, cooking was a newly discovered hobby, and as much as Be.e loved to prepare meals, he loved discussing them. He could spend hours just going over ingredients and why they mixed well with anyone willing to listen.

Or not listen. Sadly, not everyone enjoyed his dedication to an in-depth explanation of every detail.

However, Blitz.wing nodded and hummed along, even asking questions that clearly showed he was paying attention. Plus, the talk of food made him hungrier. That servo never left his belly, be it rubbing or playfully pinching the flabby mesh that sausaged between his plating seams.

“Yes, baCo.n just makes every dish better!” Be.e rambled as he Co.ntinued to spoon-feed the other. “It’s because of the glutamate. Do you know what that is?”

Icy swallowed, then dabbed his lips politely with the cloth napkin. “Something zhat tastes good?”

“Oh, look who’s being a smart aft, huh?” The Auto.bot wagged the spoon before scooping more soup. “But it activates this sensory receptor on your glossa to add in that rich, savory flavor. Kinda like adding salt to a dish. But it’s also high in much-needed nutrients your frame needs, hence the cravings.”

“Makes sense.” Icy nodded as he chewed, listening to the little mech as he prattled on about the soup’s ingredients.

All too soon, the clinking of scraping the spoon against the bowl rang out, announcing the completion of this dish. An unhappy pout formed on Icy’s lips, but Be.e didn’t take the bait. Instead, yet another dish was selected.

Enough with the slow start- let’s get down to business!

A massive bowl of lithium noodles covered in richly seasoned red sauce with huge, round cyber meatballs plopped on top like landmines. This meal was claimed to feed a family unit of four, but it would easily count as one meal for the DeceptiCo.n. A side dish of garlic bread completed this meal.

But this dish was a tell-tale favorite, and Icy nearly salivated just looking at the heaping bowl. Yes, it was inexpensive, which was good for Be.e’s credits, but the dish was very homey and satisfying. Why? Its roots grew deep in Cyberton’s history, for one. But the dish was highly versatile. The sauces could be red, white, or oily, and the noodles could be long, penne, or bowties. Not to mention, the dish was very filling.

And pasta seemed to be the go-to meal when your lunch date seemed to be a never-ending garbage disposal.

“I see you went with the classics, nice.” Blitz.wing hummed, twiddling his fingers as he greedily eyed the plate. “And such a large serving!”

“I couldn’t have you go hungry,” Be.e puffed his chest out, proud at being able to provide such a large dish. “Close your legs.” Once those plump thighs slapped together, the bowl was set down upon them and a fork stabbed in, twirling around sauce-covered noodles. “You’re gonna have to open wide for this!”

Icy did as he was told, and the noodles entered his mouth, not without a flinging, dripping sauce over those lips and chin. The feedee didn’t seem to mind, instead focusing only on the perfectly seasoned sauce and melt-in-your-mouth noodles that now ran over his glossa. His optics shot wide open before he moaned in delight.

“You approve?” Be.e shimmied from one pede to another, grinning madly at the joyous sight before him.

“Very much so.” That deep red napkin dabbed at his lips and chin for any stray sauce. “Perfect mixture of oregano and basil.” His servo, with finger curled pressing his thumb, was brought to his mouth to give a ‘chef’s kiss’. “You are getting so good at cooking!”

“And you are getting so good at eating.” This time, a large meatball was offered, and to the Auto.bot’s surprise, the ‘Co.n took the entire sphere into his mouth.  “We’ll get this belly filled up in no time, huh?”

The triplechanger happily nodded his helm as that devious hand returned to rubbing at that belly. Oh, how Be.e would love to reach out and grope at that chub that jiggled on the frame! But Blitz.wing never offered for him to touch. That belly looked so soft and plush, inviting one’s face to smoosh right into it.

“AH ah... little bug,” Icy called out. “I’m ready for more..... Feed me....”

“AH... sorry ‘bout that.” This time, a thick golden brown slice of bread was offered, and the crispy side crunched within the other’s bite.

“Vhat has distracted you, hmmm?”

The question snuck out before more saucy noodles were shoved in. As much as Be.e tended to blurt out the first thing on his processor, he held his tongue: he was in no mood to boldly announce he wanted more than just observing! Yes, Blitz.wing swelled with pride when Be.e admired his paunch, but looking no longer satisfied his desire.

“So, did you read those comics I gave you?” The perfect topic changer! The Auto.bot previously rambled about superheroes, and the ‘Co.n was clueless, but showed interest. So, digital copies of comic series were provided for the other to enjoy.

“Hmmmm Hmmmm...” Icy nodded.

“Yeah?” Be.e grinned- he actually read them! “So, what ya think?”

“Zhey were... entertaining...” Icy eyed the bowl, watching the fork twirl in the noodles. His belly was still grumbling. As well as being rubbed by large, dark servos. “Zhere vasn’t much gore, though.”

“Not everything is as violent as you.” Another large mouthful was fed. “Who do you think would win a fight. Spiderman or Superman?”  The other’s helm tilted to the side as the large mouthful of food was chewed. “I think Superman would win- hands down!”

“Hmmmmm....” Blitz.wing swallowed, then took a deep breath of air. “I dunno, my little buggy. You only need a simple rock, and he is rendered useless.”

“It’s not just any rock.... you would need kryptonite!” Be.e nearly shouted as the next forkful of food zoomed everywhere as he talked with exaggerated hand movements. “And it’s not common.”

“Zhat’s a shame...” The tan and black flyer kept watching the moving food.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that.” Be.e shyly smiled and fed the food. “But the chances of Spiderman having kryptonite? Slim to none.”

“Too bad.... it looked quite tasty.”

“Primus, Icy, you just wanna eat everything!”

The ‘Co.n grinned and slapped his belly. The belly flab that peaked out from the plating shook and jiggled. “Yes...I do...”

Be.e shook his head and smiled. Forkful after forkful of scrumptious meatballs and freshly made pasta were shoveled in. Each time, the greedy ‘Co.n devoured. Sauce soon lined his lips and dribbled down his chin and onto his chassis. By the time that large serving of noodles was gone, there were even splotches on that belly, resembling a Jackson Pollock painting.

“Just look at the mess I have made!” Icy announced with wide optics. His tongue licked at the slop on his lips while a digit scooped up the dripples on his belly only to be sucked off by his fingers with an audible pop. The Auto.bot stared at the chosen way to clean the mess.

“You... you got your napkin...” He stammered as he watched those digits swipe away the mess only to be licked clean.

“It’s all taken care of now.” Icy smiled. “Vhat’s next on the menu?”

“AH.... I have... this... you’re gonna love it!” Be.e brought out a large, wrapped item and set it on the other’s disappearing lap. “And it comes with a side.” Another large bowl was retrieved. Once Icy unwrapped the main course to reveal a huge, oversized burger, complete with crisp lettuce, crystal onions, and cyber pickles, his optics lit up.

“Zhis looks marvelous!” Chops were licked as the ‘Co.n happily squirmed in excitement. “How vill I fit this beast in my mouth?”

“How you gonna fit that beast in your belly is more like it!” The ‘B.ot grinned. This burger was special: everything was custom-made. The patty was just an enlarged patty of ground cybermeat, but the bun was kneaded and baked just for this feast. This burger was about four times bigger than the standard ener-burger and made with thrilled excitement.

“And I made you some loaded fries to go with it.” The container was held out to reveal waffle fries covered with gooey, melted petroleum cheese, more bacon bits, silica chips, and a side of ketchup and sour cream. “Did I do good?”

“You never disappoint, little bug.” Icy looked mesmerized, looking over the feast. “Zhere’s just one thing.” The burger was picked up and held out for the other.

“W..What?” A worried face washed over the yellow and black mech. “Is something wrong?”

“If I have any chance of getting zhat burger in my belly...” Said belly was slapped as it impatiently growled. “I’m going to have to remove my plating.” His fingers went for the underside of the abdominal plating, slipping into the accumulating flab. “You... you don’t mind, do you?”

 Be.e shook his helm no.

 A few tugs were given but were unsuccessful. “Ooff... zhis is so tight.” Blitz.wing sucked in, his chest puffing out as his belly slightly lessoned. He wiggled as he yanked, desperately trying to unclasp that stubborn armor.

Should he ask if he needed help? Be.e bit his lip as he gawked at the scene before him. Golly, he would love to slip his fingers into the soft squishiness of that flab! Feeling that sizeable bulge's pressure would be a dream come true! Just imagining that sensations made a shiver jolt through his frame... a tell-tale sign his body was heating up.

Perhaps offering a helping hand wasn’t the best idea... after all, he didn’t know if this attraction was returned. And the last thing he wanted to do was to overstep boundaries.

“Zhere we go.” Icy gasped for breath as the metal plating finally clicked, releasing its hold, and that fat belly bounced forward, slapping down on thickened thighs. Now free from its constraints, the tummy’s size was much bigger than anticipated! The abdominal plating was set aside, and hands returned to that massive beast that now took up a chunk of his lap and spilled ever so enticingly over his hips. “Zhat feels so much better!”

“That’s good!”  Be.e was mesmerized by the servo’s rubbing all over the rounded surface. The indents from the armor were etched into its surface, resembling intricate patterns and announcing just how tight the fit was. “Free’s up some space, yeah?”

“Yes, yes...” Icy cooed with optics half-lidded. “Plenty of room for you to feed me that massive burger, hmmm?”

At that suggestion and another grumble from the belly, the Auto.bot eagerly pressed the huge burger to the other’s lips.

master post

[anony-man]

A request made by my good friend @siberat. I hope you enjoy!

Chubformers drabble #99!

Character: Perceptor (IDW)

Word count: 1.1K+

Nearly half of his personal fuel stock for the week had been ravaged in a matter of minutes, but Perceptor was still so, so hungry.

It was likely that ridiculous play Brainstorm called experiments the other day that had done him in. He never felt this hungry, not even after hours spent hunched over his desk working on various projects. His tanks groaned and cramped, begging him with noisy growls for more, more, more.

He needed a medic, or maybe an antidote, but most of all, he needed something else to eat.

Brainstormed was a skilled bot, even when things had a tendency to turn sideways with him in the laboratory. The giddy excitement and enthusiasm coupled poorly with his cocky demeanor, and more often than not Perceptor was forced to save the inventor from his own oblivion.

No, that should not be smoking and I don’t believe those chemicals react well when mixed were often phrases uttered from a distance as he watched Brainstorm work his magic, but in the end, things typically sorted themselves out. The more time they spent together the better, it seemed, and Brainstorm was getting faster at picking up the scientist’s tips and tricks.

He was getting better, much better, and Perceptor’s relief at seeing a drop in daily catastrophes had desensitized him to the ever-present risk that came with anything Brainstorm put together.

His latest notable invention—and by notable, Perceptor meant having the most potential to do some good for the rest of Cybertron—was what Brainstorm referred to as a miracle elixir. His obsession with breaking boundaries and bending the rules of existence was never squashed, no matter how long it took for him to make progress, and the morning prior Perceptor had been ushered into his colleague’s workshop for his role as the experiment’s guinea pig.

“It cures the need for fuel completely!” Brainstorm had said, his servos stretching wide as he imitated the swell of full tanks. “No more hunger, no more energon shortages… it’s perfect!”

Perfect seemed a bit of an overstatement, but Perceptor was willing to try. After all, the worst that could happen was it offlined him on the spot. Knowing Brainstorm, however, he had likely experienced much worse and more realistic side effects from a botched batch of new inventions.

He drank it without complaint, and tolerated Brainstorm’s chatter while they awaited the results, but to the inventor’s disappointment (and his, if he were being honest), nothing spectacular came of it. There were no side effects, no threats of illness, nothing. He didn’t feel different, and he certainly didn’t feel bad.

“Give it a few hours,” Brainstorm had said, insisting on walking him back to his own lab after they’d finished up with the failed experiment, “and let me know how it goes. I’m curious to see what changes!”

Perceptor was tempted to reiterate the fact that this was likely going to be another experiment that didn’t work out as expected, but the glee on the inventor’s face was far too fresh for him to crush. He would give a few hours, he decided, and see what changed… if anything. Granted, no immediate effects had him doubting the reliability of the starting formula, but changes could always be made moving forward.

He felt fine at first, and as the hours progressed, he was almost surprised to find that his fuel levels had in fact remained steady. Cleanup for the evening was quick and his drift into recharge was simple, and by morning, Perceptor had all but forgotten about the new experiment.

It was around morning, too, when his symptoms had begun to appear.

Perceptor pored over the scribble list Brainstorm had so hastily put together in his rush to create, one arm braced around his rumbling belly while the other held him upright in his chair. His optics were glazed over as he struggled to focus long enough to get past the first line, and his processor was occupied with the thought of rummaging through their storage for something, anything, to satisfy his hunger.

No, no, he wasn’t just hungry anymore . He was starving, weakened, and feeling like he’d gone without fuel for days on end. His vision was crossed as his groaned and rubbed his forehelm, the arm around his belly softening so he could rub at his middle and soothe the pains.

His plating was swollen from the bloat of his gut, his tanks stuffed to the brim from the sheer volume of food he had packed away. Processed fuel and bite-sized snacks had been the first to be devoured, but Perceptor had soon moved onto other things like canned ores and bottles of fizzy fuel in the lounge. His belly ballooned outward, stuffed far beyond its limits with food and fuel, but his tanks still rumbled.

He needed something more, and he needed something else. He was absolutely famished by now.

Perceptor lifted his helm from the desk—wait, when had he stopped reading the ingredients to that Primus-forsaken mixture? His helm was aching now. He stared back down at the pages, but the words blurred together, creating lines of fuzzy ink and illegible print.

His belly rumbled again, louder this time, and it was all he could do not to get up and stagger back out to the kitchen. His tanks would burst at this rate! He couldn’t dare pack any more fuel into them. Right now, he had to focus. He needed a cure, or an antidote, or something to reverse the effects of this ridiculous experiment.

“Focus,” he whispered to himself, scooting forward in his chair. “Focus, Perceptor. Think.”

The edge of desk dug painfully into the mesh of his belly, pushing it further back beneath the plating straining around it. He read one line, then another, his lips moving silently as he struggled to process the words. His belly ached with the sharp pain of gnawing hunger, and his helm pounded with every pulse of his spark, but he was going to be fine.

He had to find a solution to this, and fast. But maybe… maybe a break was deserved. He was painfully hungry, after all.

Perceptor pushed his chair back from the desk and stood with a groan, his servos immediately settling atop his protruding gut. Walking to the door was little more than a slow, painful waddle, his belly bulging outward as though full of a healthy, growing sparkling.

A break was needed if he were to make any further progress, he decided. Just one more break, and then he would put an end to this mess. Maybe, if he were lucky, there was still as stash of energon goodies stowed away somewhere in the kitchen

There was only one way to find out, and only one cure for his insatiable hunger. Perceptor stumbled out of the lab and headed towards the kitchen, his frantic search for an antidote forgotten and replaced by the desire to quell his voracious appetite.

[siberat]

Bigger is Better

pt 1

Here is the winner of the poll! Some Bli.tzbee stuffing below the undercut! Enjoy and ty for participating! will be posted in parts.

pt 1

Skipping along the trail- as best he could, lugging a wagon with a massive crate behind him, BumbleB.ee eagerly made his way to his destination. It’s B.een a while since their last meet-up- at least their official one. Yes, he saw his growing beauty during battles, but it wasn’t the same. Today had nothing to do with war.

This was all a pleasure. And the yellow and black ‘Bot barely got any sleep last night due to his excitement. And all the cooking.

But as he made the last turn, he saw his guest already waiting for him. Sitting on a large rock with his back to him was Blitz.wing.  He was slouched over with his legs spread out in front of him. Seeing his pal sitting there with those rounded love handles squishing out made him want to squeal joyfully.

Unlike their first encounter with the Decepti.con. B.ee had managed to sneak up unknowingly on the triplechanger, and when the enemy turned, optics piercing through him, the smaller mech froze, expecting the heated insults of Hothead to emerge. That version of this mech was terrifying- snarled teeth and sharp optics just made B.ee’s plating crawl! Oddly enough, all that greeted him was a wide-eyed Icy, who looked more like he got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

Well, that statement wasn’t far from the truth. Littered in front of the shocked ‘Con was a whole bunch of empty boxes of snacks, which yes, some were indeed cybercookies. And crumbs littered Icy’s lips, even trailing down his chassis.

The pair stared at each other—B.ee holding his hands up, nervously taking steps back, and Icy just frozen like a statue, save for his tongue licking the mess off his face. Upon further inspection, B.ee couldn’t help but notice the other’s plating was taunt—slag, bulging out with soft protomesh squishing out around his hips. His thighs and the underside of his upper arms were noticeably plumper.

The moment of silence seemed to last ages until BumbleB.ee’s curiosity got the best of him. He coughed, then quietly asked. “W...what are you doing?”

The ‘Con bit his lower lip and blinked a few times as he surveyed his surroundings as if deep in thought, but the answer given was oddly surprising. “I wanna be big.” As if to further emphasize his answer, Icy held his hands out, hinting at the larger roundness he desired.

And in all honesty, B.ee didn’t disagree with him!

This is how this odd partnership began. So, Blitz.wing wished to pack on some pounds. And B.ee was more than willing to provide a helping hand. It turns out that watching the ‘Co.n devour whatever foods were placed in front of him made the little Auto.bot’s circuits buzz. Who would have thought that the expansion of a belly would make him feel this way? But seeing the soft smile on the other’s face as servos rubbed over that swollen beach-ball-like belly at the end was rewarding.

Not to mention the stolen glances at the other’s growing frame during battles, but his Co.n companion never got as stuffed when he was not with B.ee.

“You must have gotten here early!’ B.ee chirped as he stopped in front of the other, struggling with making sure the cart didn’t run into the back of his heels.

“Perhaps you are late, little bug,” Icy’s optic ridge raised, but the tone was playful. “I’ve B.een here practically starving to death.” His belly let out a well-timed growl.

“Are all you big bad ‘Cons this whiny?” B.ee grinned, enjoying the smug expression given.

“Careful... provoking me could lead to...Ahhh, vhat vas it you said? Terrifying results?” Icy scowled, gritting his denta. “I’m hangry enough as is...”

“Gah!” B.ee waved his hands. “We can eat- we can eat!” The words repeated as the Auto.bot quickly opened the crate and tossed the lid aside. Clearly, having a close and personal meeting with Hothead was not desired. However, over time, B.ee learned tricks of the trade to settle that personality, as well as the other.

“Gots anything spicy in zhere?” Icy goaded as he tried to peek into what was in the box.

“Ahhha.... you’re such a joker. You remember what you did the last time I fed you some spiced curry?” The glare the little mech gave typically would elicit harsh insults when given to a Decepti.con, but Icy just snicked and shrugged his shoulders. “I was washing that scrap out of my seams for a week!”

“True...true...my bad.”  He relaxed as the other unpacked the crate, his hands mindlessly rubbing at his own tummy. “You... almost done zhere?”

“Yeah yeah, stop rushing me.”

“I’ve been famished all night...saving my appetite like you had asked.”

“I am sure you won’t fall over and deactivate in the next five minutes.” B.ee shook his head at the ‘Con’s whining. “But here, have this as a starter.”

“Vhat is this?” Icy snatched the container and popped the lid off before an answer was given.  The container was lined with light pink little spheres filled with fluffy yellow insides, sprinkled with green and purple flecks. One was selected, and an in-depth sniff was given.

“Sour cream and onion deviled cyber-eggs.” B.ee grinned. “Found a new recipe and wanted to give it a shot.”

“So, I be your... vhat do zhey say...” Icy flicked his tongue out to taste the fluffy yellow substance, then smacked his lips. “Guinea pig, ya?”

“Well, if you don’t wanna eat it...” B.ee turned to shoot a sour glare, but saw the little developed egg get tossed inside the mouth. He couldn’t help but smile. It’s not often you see a brutal Decepti.con with half-mooned optics, humming in delight in front of you.

“I never said that, little bug.” Dark digits hastily snagged another treat. “These are delicious!” Another whole egg half was popped in his greedy mouth.

“Yes, well, if you chewed them instead of inhaling, you may enjoy them more.” B.ee laughed as he spread out the blanket, then started laying out containers of food only to have to defend them from prying servos. “Ah ah...come on, mech!” The chiding words were in jest. “You... you know I wanna do it.”

“Do you now?” Icy wagged a brow. B.ee blushed.

“I get to feed, you get to eat.” BumbleB.ee corrected, wagging a finger. “You know the drill.”

Icy only shook his helm and smirked.

“You gonna be a good mech?”

“Perhaps...” B.ee’s lips pressed together, and servos slammed on his hips. The playful banter immediately halted as if the ‘Co.n was quickly called to attention. “Yes. I will behave.”

“I brought something special for you!” B.ee’s expression quickly went to all smiles, as if he had different faces to match his personality. “Wanna see what it is?” Blitz.wing didn’t have a chance to answer before a dark crimson cloth napkin was shaken in the air as if it was a world-winning prize, then joyously placed on the ‘Con’s lap. “You’re favorite!”

“Oh my...” Icy cooly replied, rubbing his fingers on the cloth. “Had Decepti.cons known zhis vas the prize for befriending Auto.bots, I am sure  a cease-fire would be announced.”

“Hey.... you like it, right?” BumbleB.ee brought his digits to his mouth- nibbling his fingertips was a nervous tick.

The ‘Co.n’s expression softened as his lips turned up in a genuine smile. “You remembered.”

“Yupp!” B.ee beamed. “Of course, I remembered your preference for cloth napkins over paper ones! I’m not a dummy!”

“Looks like it’s fine dining tonight.” Icy clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Just look at this feast. Did you prepare this all yourself?”

“Yes...no...” Bitz.wing’s face twisted. “I mean, I cooked it all myself- some from scratch, but some were boxed recipes, I admit. I... ah, hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, my little bug,” Icy licked his lips and patted his belly. “It all looks so tasty to me.”

“Vell, let’s dig in, shall we?”

master post

[siberat]

what should my next silly Drabble be?

gonna open this up to a poll. What should my next dabble consist of? Choose your fav from the poll!

[siberat]

Bigger is Better

Pt 1 / Pt 2

Winner of the poll, master post because this is probably going to be to be a 3 parter.

When it comes to hanging out with a well known fierce Decepti.con, most Auto.bots would skate in their plating. Not Bumble.bee, he eagerly awaits these meet-ups with Blitz.wing. The triple changer was big enough, but desperately wants to be bigger, and has the voracious appetite to prove it. Be.e has a huge desire to feed…

[siberat]

been thinking of Dr.ift with some thick thighs. I know I’m not the only one thinking this way. Plumped out thighs that rub together as he walks down the corridors of the L/L. Naturally he;d sport a nice rounded aft too.

he’s on his way to the medbay. Carrying a tote filled with a freshly made dinner for his lover’s dinner break. Of course he brought dessert. He made it himself.

but clearly he’s been taste-testing these meals before feeding them to rat.chet.

he needs his thigh plating resized. Ahhhh.

[siberat]

swindle wg thing? 🥺 I need to see that conman get BIG

Swindle’s deal goes sour

cw: weight gain, some force feeding, mild mention of emeto (no vomiting)

His spark suddenly dropped in his chasis. He couldn’t believe it! How did he manage to get into this situation? If there was a mech pulling shady deals, it was him!

Swi/ndle checked his account for the third time, each time the balance read zero. Prim/us knows where the credits went- someone must have hacked his account.

“Look…. Ahhhh….” The combat/icon shifted his weight from one pede to the other, scratching the back of his helm as he chuckled. “Turn’s out I am a little short… how’s my credit?”

“How short?” His dealer grumbled, placing his servo’s on his hips.

“Ahhh, I can get you the money in a few days…. A week max.” The smaller ‘Co/n put on his best smile.

“Do you value my time so little?” Lock/down narrowed his optics, but a grin soon appeared. “I think we can work something out.”

“That would be amazing!” Swi/ndle clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Whatcya got in mind?”

… …

‘Just keep thinking of your bounty!’ Swi/ndle repeated over and over to himself as plate after plate of foods were placed in front of him. While the instructions were clear- each plate consumed earned himself one tote- the combat/icon never thought he would have to eat to earn his bounty.

 But this was no problem, right? In fact, this exchange seemed like such a steal. Just think of the profit margin! He’d be rolling in credits in no time.

However, little did he know just how loaded these plates were. Sure, some consisted of little cakes, but there was like ten of them piled on ne dish. Others had hearty sandwiches loaded with a ton of cybermeat, cheese, lettuce, onions, tomatoes and slathered in mayo. No matter the type of food, it was available in overabundance.

The variety of the spread made the feast look as if set out for a party, but the party was just him. Swi/ndle’s optics quivered just looking at all the dishes…. And his belly gave a preemptive ache just thinking of consuming them all.

He wanted all the totes, afterall.

“Well?” Lock/down sneered, holding his palms out. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is. Eat up.”

“Ah…. what is that?” Swi/ndle cocked his head to the side as he watched the other set a device on the table and aimed it right toward him.

“You don’t think I’m going to take a financial hit over this soured deal, do you?” The green and black mech looked through the display, adjusting for the best view. “I plan to earn the credits back by hosting a stream.”

“Hey…. You gonna record me choking this slop down?”

Lock/down simply nodded. “Turns out there are quite a few mechs out there that would love to see you squirming under the spotlight. And who am I to deny them?”

Prim/us, he did not wish anyone else to witness this! “That’s not fair!” Just how many mechs has he upset? Doing the math quickly in his helm, the number equated to a lot.

“And neither is coming to our little meeting empty handed. Credits make the world go round. You of all mechs should know that.” The red button on top of the camera was pressed. “We are live. Put on a good show and make me some money.”

Swi/ndle hefted out a sigh. What choice did he have? Slag, remember the profits- he would definitely make a lot with no overhead. All he had to do was scarf down the meals in front of him.

Easy Peasy!

The first dish selected was a heaping bowl of mac and cheese. Picking up a spoonful, the mech shoveled it into his mouth and was immediately rewarded with such rich flavor! The texture was smooth and the sharp flavor of cheese just burst over his taste receptors. This begged for another heaping mouthful for sure. However, all good things must end, and the spoon scrapped against and empty bowl all too soon.

“Why don’t you give this a try next?”

A plate with a large lithium potato smothered with greasy bacon, sour cream and green seasonings pushed in front of him. “Sure, no problem.” Swi/ndle grinned, just thinking of the deal he was gonna walk away with. So what he had to engorge on food in front of the audience: this was easy earnings!

However, one dish after another slid his way. And dish after dish was consumed, but the pace slowed. While the energon foods were delightful, each swallow filled his tummy more and more. Soon, he could feel his abdominal plating grow uncomfortably tight. Dull aches surfaced, pinging his processor that no more food was needed.

“Finished already?” Lock/down tutted, shaking his helm in disappointment. “I didn’t think you would quit so easily.”

“I’m not finished yet!” Swi/ndle grumbled, rubbing a servo over his swelled belly. “I got plenty of room left!”

Was there more room? There had to be: he only earned a measly eight totes. He needed much more than that!

“I would hate to disappoint your adoring fans…” As if on que, an assortment of pings erupted from the broadcasting device.

Swi/ndle furrowed his optics as another plate was dug into. Fried cyberchicken, and you can bet that meat was sucked from the framework! As if putting on a show, Swi/ndle sucked his greasy fingers clean while looking into the camera, then patted at his bloated stomach. “Is that all you got?”

More plates were pushed his way, and the struggle became real. After each bite, his belly would let out a troubled gurgle. After each swallow, he’d be gasping for breath. After each plate finished, sweat would be dripping from his brow. His abdomen was obnoxiously distorted and quivered in pain! And only three more plates had been finished.

“I think after all that food, you need to wet your whistle.” Lock/down stifled a grin.

 Swi/ndle knew this wasn’t good, but he was thirsty. A large pitcher of light green liquid was placed in front of him.

“Give that a taste, hm?”

“Got a glass?” Swi/ndle asked, giving the flab that squished out his seams a pinch.

“Drink it from the canister, piggy.”

The solo combat/icon reluctantly obeyed and brought the large pitcher to his lips. It was cold and very sweet tasting! However, he noted how thick the liquid was as it pured into his mouth. “What the slag is this?” Swi/ndle coughed, returning the picture to the table.

Lock/down’s hands held the canister in it’s spot. “Does it matter? Chug it.”

Swi/ndle’s optics grew. The recording device sang out pings and whistles. He knew that sound to be credits being sent in via the livestream. And those noises only multiplied as the canister was raised to the chubby mech’s lips.

And the con artist had no choice but to drink. And with each gulp, he swore his belly bulged out even more! His plating grew tight, and not even halfway through the drink, a loud pang rang through the air.

Dear Prim/us, was that his abdominal plating shooting across the room? The pressure on his abdomen decreased and something heavy but soft bounced on his lap. Exploring servo’s rubbed the mass, confirming yes, this was his protomesh belly resting upon his thighs, fully exposed for the world to see.

How embarrassing! And painful! The mass ached as if the beachball of the belly was about to pop. But the cream kept puring down his maws, and the pained mech kept swallowing. More spasms trembled though his belly.

How much more could his poor tanks endure?

When the canister finally lowered from his lips, Swi/ndle gasped. What a relief to be able to breath in air to cool off his warming frame! But this was short lived. His tummy cramped and spasmed, it’s surface itching from the freshly acquired stretchmarks.

Isn’t that just peachy?

Swi/ndle whined as his belly churned, its surface shaking like an earthquake. A sharp and clenching ached formed from deep within. This uncomfortable feeling caused the combinor’s optics to shoot wide open.

Something was coming up. He could feel the pressure rising, creating a stabbing sensation along his internal digestion tract. All the while, the chimes rang, reminding the pained mech he was in front of an audience. Prim/us, if he purged, he would be mortified!

Not to mention he would most likely have to return the totes if he lost the meals.

Swi/ndle swallowed hard a few times, attempting to coax his belly’s contents to stay put, but this was a losing battle. Whatever this feeling was, it was rising rapidly. He barely had time to moan before his throat tubing widened, releasing an obnoxiously wet belch in the air.

“Bllllllaaaaaaaaaarrrrruuuuuughgggghhhhhhhhh….” It was loud. It was painful. It echoed through the room.

And the viewers went wild, but all Swi/ndle could do was sit there, gasping for breath as he rubbed his obnoxiously stuffed belly.

“Have you had enough?” Lock/down chuckled. “You only earned twelve totes.”

“That’s it?” Swi/ndle griped, feeling incredibly overstuffed and sick. The burps kept coming, and his belly kept growling. “You sure you counted correctly?”

That wasn’t nearly as much as he wanted to take home!

But one troubled question festered in his processor: which dish would be easy to consume next?

[siberat]

Growling at the Moon

ai/d x Bl/ast Of/f Custer Drabble for @mr-miss-anonymous

Blast Off takes First Aid out on a date and idly chat on a bench under the night's sly.

[siberat]

Food Makes things feel better

so, good news and bad news. This was originally for a Drabble request- however, jerk me totally missed the mark by my classic quickly reading the request, then spending days writing only to find out it’s not what was asked at all. So, my apologies to the anon requester- you will have to wait a bit longer. Also, I was gonna split this in 2, but I just wanna post it.

good news is here is a rodi/mus chub story. I am gonna do another one for the anon prompt. Cw: chub, weight gain, binge eating, emotional eating.

Life wasn’t fair, was it?

Yes, he knew things would not be handed to him on a silver platter, but he didn’t think the accomplishments he earned would be snatched away from him either. Or forced to share.

Sighing, Rod/imus plopped himself back in his captain’s chair—while he still had it, that is. Apparently, for reasons unknown, he had to share his status as captain with someone else—someone so unworthy of the position, none-the-less!

Mega/tron.

The “ex” leader of the Decep/ticons. All because stupid Opti/mus Pri/me said so.

This was his voyage! This was his mission! And things have been going just fine, so why try to fix something that isn’t broken?

Before he knew it, the urge to do something other than stew in anger arose. Rodi/mus could only take so much teeth-clenching before his helm hurt worse than it already did. He reached to the center of the table and pulled a large dish of mini cakes in front of him. Yes, this was to be for the guests at his meeting, but surely, they wouldn’t notice one missing—there was plenty after all.

Fingers daintily selected a light pink cake with blue frosting and brought it to his lips. The sweetness invaded his mouth much quicker than the actual treat! The first bite was everything he could imagine: moist, decadent, and rich flavor awoken his taste receptors from slumber.

Each bite led like another, and the first cake was gobbled up. And the sheer taste of the food made him feel better. While he was consuming it, all thoughts of his predicament vanished. Rodi/mus didn’t think of the stern looks received from Mega/tron when ideas were disapproved of. Seeing Ult/ra Magn/us discuss plans with the ‘other’ captain vanished from his processor. Feeling like scrap for being deprived of his hard-earned title lifted from his chassis.

At least until the last swallow of the cake, that is.

As the red and yellow mech stared at the plate full of little colorful cakes of various shapes, licking icing off his fingertips, he could feel the brain worms kicking back in.

Was he not good enough? Just what did he do so wrong? He was a fun mech and liked trying fun things! Did his crew mates simply not like him? Images replayed in his processor of ‘bots reactions to him, seeing if there were any tell-tale signs of dislike. Rodi/mus did not see any hints of hate- but perhaps they really did?

“Ehhhhhhhhh,” Rodi/mus grumbled and rolled his optics, truly hating feeling like this. He was a good mech! He deserved to lead this exhibition! Just why did it have to be stolen from him?

Yeah, it was time for another cake. There were still plenty of them left on the plate. The scrumptious little morsels make him feel better, even if just temporarily. When one was finished, and those tormenting thoughts returned, Rodi/mus helped himself to another.

Of course, the emptied plate was hidden before the conference began- his attendees wouldn’t miss what they didn’t know, right? Hopefully, the ‘co-captain’ could hide his noisy belly ache!

… … …

Any hope of his situation improving simply flew out the window. It turns out his crew was much more accepting of Mega/tron than he anticipated. Yes, tabs were kept on him, but as the days turned to weeks, high command appeared to grow more comfortable with his presence on board the Lo/st Li/ght.

And more willing to listen to his ideas and choose the ex-warlord's instructions over his!

Rodi/mus even tried harder to win back popularity votes by hosting parties at Swer/ves. He graced others' presence by making rounds and chatting it up amongst the partygoers. He even let them in on his future festivities, listening to their ideas, even if they were stupid.

Like perhaps an ice cream social would be nice.

Actually, Rodi/mus didn’t even ask for that—he still had some control over what took place on board his ship! The event was scheduled—and it was scheduled first—and now, he sat in an empty room. Well, it was not completely empty: there were tubs upon tubs of energon ice cream.

Yet only a handful of mechs showed up. And those fraggers didn’t even stay for long! Apparently, after his planned and announced event, Rew/ind and Chrome/dome continued their dumb movie marathon. Guess where every mech went?

So, the red and yellow mech sat alone, staring out the large window. Space was so vast and empty…just like his spark. Alright, that is a bit sappy. But it hurt to have no one really show up. It hurt to feel not important. It hurt to feel ignored.

But seeing all the ice cream and toppings sitting around unused was disheartening. And there was a lot! All the good flavors were obtained: chocolate, vanilla, mint chocolate chip, rocky road, peanut butter cup…. The list went on. And toppings? There was chocolate sauce, sprinkles, candies, brownie bits, whipped cream, and then some. With a spread like this, who wouldn’t want to show up?

Apparently, ninety-nine percent of the ship.

‘No point in letting this go to waste,’ Rodi/mus shrugged, dragging himself to his pedes and scooped himself a heaping bowl of several flavors of ice cream, topped with every topping imaginable. He sat back down with his feast and scoop after scoop fed himself the cold treat.

Oh, how he loved ice cream! The soft dessert's chill and the crunch of the toppings always hit the spot! A lot of foods hit the spot recently. Ever since Mega/tron joined this fleet, energon has provided him with so much comfort, as if it had always been there for him. Always calling his name out from the panty just begging to be devoured! And how could the speedster resist?

Eating cheered him up, relieving him from replaying the bad thoughts in his processor all the time. The pleasurable feeling of consuming something so tasty made his spark swirl with joy instead of rage. And this ice cream was no different—each bite, a new flavor, a new color twirled in his vision, and a smile appeared on his lips.

As soon as the dish was emptied, the co-captain immediately helped himself to seconds. He kept going even when his whole frame seemed cold from eating so much frozen dessert. Even when his tummy, which had grown more prominent over the past few weeks, became taunt and lay heavier on his lap, he kept going.

When his overflowing bowl was polished off this time, Rodi/mus simply snagged two cartons of ice cream. There was no point having to keep getting back up! However, upon shoveling the first spoonful in, he noticed he wasn’t alone and jumped.

“Pri/mus, Dri/ft!” Rodi/mus gasped.

“Don’t use His name in vain,” Dri/ft spoke calmly.

“My bad.” The red and yellow mech stuffed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, then motioned to the food table for the other to help himself.

“I’m not here for that,” Dri/ft answered.

“Ah, let me guess.” Rodi/mus spat. “Just stopping in before movie fest?”

 “I’m here to talk with you.” He walked to the table and sat next to the other. “So, how have you been?”

“Fine,” Rodi/mus shrugged, continuing to work on his tub of ice cream. “Shame mech’s don’t know what they are missin’.” His belly clenched, whining out a minor grumble.

“I somehow don’t think everything is fine, Rodimus.” The TIC gently placed a servo on the other’s shoulder. “You haven’t quite been yourself recently.”

“Nonsense,” Rodi/mus bulked, his mouth full. Who else would I be?” Slag, the last thing he wanted was some kind of spiritual talk from Dri/ft. And why the hell did he have to be so nosey? He needed to stay in his own lane.

“Rodi/mus…” His hand moved to the arm, guiding the other to stop eating. “You are not doing well, I can tell. I can help you.”

Rodi/mus sneered, pulling his arm free from the other. What was wrong with wanting to not let all this ice cream go to waste? He spent good credits on this- as well as having to make an unscheduled stop. Why didn’t anybody notice all the work he put into things?

“Just let me be.”

“Let me help you. We can talk- “

“Look, if you don’t want any ice cream, why don’t you shove off?”

“Rodi/mus…”

“Dri/ft…” The red and yellow mech threw an angered glare at the other but regretted it. “Look…. I just… I just want to be alone right now.”

Dri/ft sighed and solemnly nodded. “As you wish. I shall give you your privacy. But I must warn you.” His servo gestured to the now flabbier body. “Your change in habits can have some unhealthy results.”

“Just what the slag you talking about?”

“Your coping mechanism…” Dri/ft bit his lip. “It will catch up to you.”

“You have an issue with me now because I put on a few extra pounds?”

“It's far more than a few extra pounds- “

“What, are you taking measurements?”

“No- “

“Does me eating hurt your inner arura or whatever that scrap is?”

“No.” Dri/ft’s tone grew stern as his lips pressed together to form a line. “I have no qualms about your physical appearance, Rodi/mus. But I just fear the reasoning behind the sudden weight gain.”

“I checked out just fine at my last check-up with Rat/chet.”

“Perhaps you should speak with Ru/ng.”

“Ru/ng?” Rodi/mus snorted. “Look, I aint crazy.”

“No one ever said you were.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” Rod/imus slammed his fist on the table, and the TIC raised his servos in defeat.

“I just wish to say one thing before I leave you to yourself.” Dri/ft stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Drowning your problems with food is not the solution. Trust me, addiction is the easy way out. But if you keep this up, you’ll be weighed down by more than whatever bothers you. Also, I am here for you whenever you are ready to talk.”

“That was two things you said, not one,” Rodi/mus grumbled, serving himself another spoonful of ice cream. As if angered by the conversation, his belly grumbled loudly.

Dri/ft opened his mouth to retort, but just shook his helm instead. With saddened optics, he watched the other resume his binge eating for a moment before taking his leave.

Deep down, he knew Dri/ft was correct. But how could he stop when eating was the one thing that made him feel so good? Despite his belly churning and the tell-tale signs of a belly ache forming, Rodi/mus kept eating. Even when his belly grew so taunt and painful that even his servos couldn’t comfort the beast, spoonful after spoonful of rich, chocolate peanut butter ice cream was shoved into his maws.  Even when it became so hard to swallow, he continued- he would finish this tub of ice cream if it was the last thing he did!

… … …

When did this hallway become so long? Rodi/mus huffed as he waddled his way towards the bridge of the ship. Apparently, today’s meeting was of the utmost importance, so his presence was demanded instead of video chat. And not only did that mean getting himself out of the berth, but it also meant dragging himself halfway across the ship.

And this was simply too much work!

What exactly was the reason for this unscheduled meeting? Rodi/mus whined for hours with Ul/tra Mag/nus about what was so important, but he wouldn’t blab. What, now officers on board his ship could no longer speak to him? No longer tell him the truth?

It was bad enough having unannounced guests visit his captain's quarters over the past month. No one wanted to see him unless they wanted to voice their concern for his weight gain. He still ran this ship, didn’t he?

Well, half-run the ship would be more accurate.

Did he slack off on his duties? No. Did he miss any meetings? No—well, one was missed, but that was because of a too-small shower stall issue—but that didn’t count! His responsibilities of running this ship were still performed.

Yet, in the past several weeks, Ratc/het paid him a visit, bringing with him his medical supplies and grumpy attitude. Tests were run, and while levels came back elevated, they were considered normal range. Which normally was good, but the medic felt the need to drill onto him the warnings of increased weight gain and decreased activity.

Once Rat/chet was shoved off, another medic took his place a few days later. While more upbeat, Ai/d’s help was not desired or needed. Even Amb/ulon’s straightforward, no-nonsense approach was as annoying as slag. All three medics were sent on their way, chided for wasting their breath and his time.

They could have at least brought him a snack!

Not even halfway to his destination, Rodi/mus had to stop for a break. His chest heaved as he desperately sucked in cool air. His pedes hurt. His legs felt like jello. Prim/us, how long has it been since he walked this far?

There really should be some chairs in the hallway!

Instead, the blob of a mech rested against the wall, swiping his servo across his brow. He was sweating like a cyberpig. He'd be a sopping mess by the time he’d make it to the conference room!

This is just great!

He also noticed that his thighs burned as if scorched by a fire. Glancing down and pulling that pillow of a tummy out of the way, he saw the protomesh was pink and raw. Chub-rub. Perfect.

What a way to be seen outside his quarters!

‘Who would be the first to notice?’ Rodi/mus scowled, banging his fists against the hallway as he slowly began shuffling along his way. Would it be Rat/chet and his know-it-all attitude? Would Ai/d baby talk him and try to slather cream all over the massive thigh flab? Or would Dri/ft be all over this whole ‘talk about your feelings’ crap again?

Couldn’t mechs take a hint to leave someone alone for once?

Rounding the final turn, Rodi/mus rested upon the conference room door frame. His chest heaved as he panted to catch his breath. His frame pinged warnings of overheating. Sweat dripped down his face, down his body, and into his many flab rolls. Everything hurt!

He felt lightheaded, as if he was about to pass out. All the red and white mech wanted to do was sit down and relax! Walking this far was challenging; it took all his strength to remain upright and not collapse onto the floor.

 The air conditioning better be one during this meeting!

Once his breathing rate slowed, Rodi/mus palmed open the door.

And what did he see?

Gone was the long table lined with chairs. The room was redecorated into something a little cozier. There was an oversized couch in the center that just called out his name! As he waddled inside, he noted the room’s cooler temperature, which felt terrific against his hot frame!

But what he saw next stopped him dead in his tracks.

There were many mechs sitting around that couch. Rat/chet sat with his arms crossed over his chest, and Fir/st Aid perc/hed on the chair next to him. Ski/ds and Ult/ra Mag/nus were each seated with datapads in their servo’s as well.

“Rodi/mus!” Dri/ft greeted in a soft, kind tone. He walked towards the larger mech with arms open and hugged the other.

“What’s going on here?”

“Why don’t you have a seat, Rodi/mus.” Ru/ng smiled, gesturing to the sofa.

And Rodi/mus didn’t like the look of this. “Why… why are you all here sitting around like this?”

 “A lot of people care about you and have a few things they wish to read to you- “

“What the slag!” Rodi/mus shouted. He couldn’t believe it! Was this real or another bothersome nightmare? “Is this… for real…. Is this an intervention?”

“Rodi/mus, just have a seat,” Ru/ng coaxed, but the words fell upon deaf audials.

If Rodi/mus could spit fire, he would! Talk about being ambushed! “Who did it?” His optics scoured the room. “Whose idea was this?” His pudgy servos clenched to fists as his double chins bounced with each word he screamed. “I swear!”

“Rodi/mus…” Mega/tron’s voice boomed.

And Rodi/mus flinched. “It was you, wasn’t it? This was all YOUR idea?”

“This talk has been long overdue- “

I don’t fragging care! I am NEVER going to have a discussion with you!” Rodi/mus turned on his pedes. “I’m going back to my room!”

“Do you think you will make the trip?”

“Shut your slagging trap, Mega/tron!” Rodi/mus bellowed.

But the ex-con had a point.

Could he make the trip back to his quarters?

[siberat]

chubby drables- SG Rat/chet

(Warning- force feeding, tube feeding, minor medical stuff). So, if anyone follows me or sees my posts, you know I am a big chub Rat/chet fan. But I will take this drabble in a different direction- in a couple different ways. First, our dear medic isn’t gonna get chubbed this time, and second…. while normal Rat/chet is a bit grumpy… what about Shatt/ered Gl/ass Rat/chet?

So, SG Rat/chet definitely has a mean streak that goes above and beyond grumpy. Yes, he is still a doctor, but he loves to experiment with new drugs, surgeries, and techniques- with or without patient consent. Come on, it’s in the name of medical advancement!

At least, that is what he tells his victim, anyway.

So, imagine a bot captured by the evil Auto/bots. Of course, I will pick Dri/ft in my scenario because I lack variety big time. Okay, a better choice would be Dead/lock. So, the gun mech is captured by the Auto/bots, and he wakes up on Rat/chet’s medical slab. His optics are wide, darting back and forth in fear, but he feels fine. He runs a diagnostic check, and everything seems in order.

He clambers off the slab and tries the door. Yeah. It’s locked. But don’t worry, Rat/chet soon enters. And he brings in a heaping meal. Naturally, Dead/lock questions the food, but the Doctor simply leaves it, and eventually, Dead/lock gets hungry enough to eat it.

The meals start out average size but eventually grow. And Rat/chet will be upset if the dish is not cleared. Dri/ft found that out the hard way. So, he clears the plates. And the meals keep getting bigger. Rat/chet joins him for the meal, not out of care and consideration, but to ensure the gunmech eats every crumb.

And when he does, he is rewarded with dessert. Sometimes, it’s sweet cherry pies fresh from the oven. Other times, it's moist cakes slathered with rich, sweet frosting and geode crumbles. And Dead/lock must eat every bite. And I am not talking about slices here: I’m talking about the entire pie/cake.

Naturally, the Decep/ticon’s once strong, slim frame grows soft and plump. First is his belly; it swells and droops over his hip plating. Then his thighs ballon out, puffing up nicely and rubbing against each other as he paces around his cell of a room. And yes, that aft grows thick, his arms expand, and his cheeks grow ever so cute and chubby.

And measurements kept getting logged. Dead/lock is subjected to having the Doctor wrap a measuring tape around his growing belly, thickening thighs, and round arms. Calipers are used to measure the deepness of his flab rolls. Every measurement is carefully recorded in detailed chart notes. Being the ever-professional, Rat/chet takes in-depth notes on the softness and squishiness of the chub, all taken by his hands.

But the day comes when Dead/lock sighs in relief at the regular-sized meal. But alas, Rat/chet demands the ‘Con to sit down. And once Dead/lock obeys, he is belted in. His hands are bound next to his sides, and try as he might, the gunmech cannot escape.

Rat/chet sneers a toothy grin as he sets a box beside his captive mech. First, he pulls out a jug of this pink liquid and slams it on the table. Then, a funnel. Finally, the tubing is fished from the box.

Dead/lock stares with wide optics as the Doctor connects the tubing to the funnel, then turns to his prey.

“Open up,” Rat/chet growls, but Dead/lock does not obey. “Open up voluntarily, or I will force you to open up.”

With much chagrin and fear, Dead/lock’s mouth opens, and the medic’s fingers are jammed inside, forcing those maws to open as wide as they can. The end of the tube is guided between teeth and shoved inside the throat. There is some resistance. Getting the tubing past the mech’s intakes was a challenge- at least while they were conscious.

“Swallow,” Rat/chet demands, and a second attempt is made. Same results. “Why must you make things harder for yourself, Dead/lock?” Without warning, that tube presses deeper, forcing its way past the spasming intake without any care in the world for the pain the plastic causes as it scrapes its way down. Dead/lock gags at the intrusion as the tube is fed down his throat until the funnel is just above his lips.

“There’s a good little pup.” Rat/chet coos, but not in kindness. “Now, there have been talks about how much a bot’s fuel tanks can hold. Many think it’s only a certain amount, no matter what. I think, with careful preparations, the chambers can hold much more.”

The cap to the jug was flicked off with a thumb. “I think it is time we found out. What do you think?” The jug is lifted, and Dead/lock's optics widen as he watches the liquid pour in. Thankfully, it’s just a little bit. And Dead/lock doesn’t even have to swallow for that pink fluid to fill his belly- it automatically slides down the tubing.

Once the funnel is drained, more is poured in. Rat/chet keenly logs how much liquid is consumed and compares it to the swell of the tummy. Measurements are taken, and the ever-so-reliable poke test is performed. This continues, but soon, Dead/lock’s belly is taunt and growling with pain. He moans in protest, but all that is heard is the whining, not the begging for the feeding to stop.

“We are almost done.” Rat/chet sharply states, lifting the jug once more, “We are at the point where other doctors claim is the max capacity. I beg to differ. And now, I can prove my theory is correct.”

Dead/lock’s optics well up with tears as he attempts to shake his helm no. However, Rat/chet is not persuaded to stop. Instead, he grins, looking at his captive in the optics.

“Don’t worry. I’m a Doctor,” The remaining liquid in the jug is poured in, and Rat/chet watches as it flows down the funnel. “If you do pop, I’ll be able to fix you up.”

All Dead/lock could do was clench his optics shut and wine as he felt his belly grow uncomfortably full, stretching past normal compacity

[siberat]

There’s Always Room for Dessert

Have a little t/c x rat/chet Drabble. I am not on word nor have access to grammarly, so only simply edified.

The secret lovers meet up at a Buffett, and eating ensues. Chubfic.

Feeling the table press into his swollen gut was both satisfying and annoying. Another unplanned meet-up with the blue see/ker resulted in fine dinning at a local buffet. While the food may not have been top notch, it satiated one’s desire to pig out. And now Ratc/het sat back in the booth, rubbing his swollen gut.

“Don’t tell me you are full already,” Thunde/rcracker grinned, eyeing the massive belly. “I still haven’t hit up the dessert table.”

The medic groaned, rolled his optics, and stifled a burp. “I ain’t no whelp. However, I think dinner is done.”

“I’d say so.” The see/ker’s hand reached over and gave the paunch a playful pat. “Shall I select you something tasty from the cake section?”

“You better, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’m going back to my room and sleeping this off.”

Thunder/cracker pouted. The pair didn't spend a lot of time together- being in the middle of a war had several drawbacks. And what little time he had, the ‘Co/n wanted to make last.

“Don’t you worry, my sweets. I will serve you the best tasting desserts available.” The see/ker rose to his feet. “Well, at least the best this place has to offer.”

“You better make it worth the wait.” The medic barked, a devious grin appearing on his face. While the flier loved watching the Auto/bot devour plate after plate, that gruff attitude always shown up if that mouth wasn’t full.

And Thunderc/racker loved it! That biting attitude, while always in jest, just really proved how playful the other could be. Because we all know under that hardened exterior, Rat/chet was such a softy.

Well, as of late, the medic’s protoform under his plating was growing soft as well.

But soon enough, a heaping plateful of cake slices, brownies, chocolates and ice creams were set in front of the medic.

“You better put your money where your mouth is,” T/C deeply growled as he took a seat next to the stuffed mech.

Ratc/het only responded by licking his lips and rubbing his belly as he looked over the mountain of scrumptious sweets in front of him. All the chosen foods looks so good! How could he choose which to consume first?

Turns out, the decision was made for him as a forkful of the rich, chocolate brownies was pressed to his lips. And just how could one deny such a decedent treat? The medic’s mouth opened and as soon as the warm, gooey mess hit his taste sensors, his engines rumbled.

And as soon as servo’s rubbed at his swollen tummy his cooling fans clicked on.

In fact, Ratc/het didn’t know what was better- being fed by his secret Decep/ticon lover or getting those belly rubs! When it came to attention, the see/ker never skimped. Nor let down. It was as if the fattened mech’s body was an idol, and T/C was the devout worshipper. And when it came to tending to needs, T/C had all bases covered.

“Here,” The See/ker held up a tall glass of cold ener-melk. “Tell me this doesn't hit the spot.”

Rat/chet didn’t need to take a gulp to know this beverage went well with the brownie- or any of the other desserts. He took a gulp before opening his mouth for more food.

And more came. Bit after bite of sweets were fed. Swallow after swallow sweets were devoured. It only took half the deserts being consumed for that belly to growl out in warnings of the upcoming belly ache. But Rat/chet did not stop. The food simply tasted to good to say no!

That, and Thunder/cracker did not relent with shoving food into his maws. Of course, Ratc/het didn’t stop him.

But as the medic began to slow down, that servo rubbed with more purpose at that rounded paunch. The touch was soft and gentle in the beginning, but now, the pressure of the touch built. Every little rumble of a belly quake was chased down and messaged. And that added pressure did something within that spare tire.

Something tickled deep within his tanks, causing minor cramping before rising upward. Upon those digits pressing firmer, the sensation grew, and soon, something traveled upwards. Rat/chet was happy he had time to close his mouth as to at least save some dignity and not let a monster of a belch escape full blast!

At least this one was muffled.

“Tum-Tum feel better?”

Rat/chet nodded and opened his mouth for more. There was no way he was finished. At least, he wanted those touches to his beach-ball sized belly to continue and he knew if he kept eating, T/C would keep rubbing.

Even when breathing became hard and swallowing became such a chore, the medic pressed on. Just hearing T/C’s words of praise and those caresses of encouragement gave him strenght to polish off cakes, pies and ice cream. All too soon, that monster of a belly no longer could fit any more snacks inside. Nor could it fit within the booth!

Nearly sweating, the medic leaned back, rubbing his own servo‘s over his overstuffed and sore belly. He panted to catch his breath and wished against wish to just lay down!

“You are so well for me tonight,” T/C cooed, giving the belly a playful pinch. Anything else catch your fancy?”

“The berth,” Rat/chet boldly stated.

“Hmmmmm… How presumptuous of you,” T/C deeply hummed.

“I want to lay down.”

“Do you need further soothing?” A smile appeared on the See/kers lips.

“You know, I do expect some royal treatment after that feast I consumed for you…”

“Allow me to tend to your desires….”

And Ratchet could help but smile at that. He knew just what this evening had in store. All the tummy tickles he could want- as well as other things getting special attention.

See, there was always room for dessert.

[siberat]

how about something with someone finding it difficult to fly with a full belly 😁

Why did he eat so much?

The gathering was good fun. There was a lull in fighting, and the Auto/bots took the time to put together a dinner party to socialize. Swo/op couldn’t resist the urge to grace his presence.

Unlike his other Dino/bot comrades, the flyer didn’t mind mingling even when other mechs didn’t share his enthusiasm. Mind you, they weren’t rude, just relatively short. Sideways glances would be thrown his way as he forced his opinions into the topics of conversation. Some mechs would slowly step away while others humored him momentarily before excusing themselves for odd reasons.

Apparently, Swo/op was kind of avoided due to the ‘ferocity’ his alt mode had.

Usually, the arial dino loved striking fear into his enemies and would take that as a compliment. However, hearing this from his comrades was a buzz-kill. And yes, Griml/ock was quick to say, ‘I told you so,’ as well as the others, claiming this was the perfect example as to why Dino/bots and Auto/bots don’t mix.

Even so, Swo/op felt the urge to attempt to mingle. Tonight wasn’t very successful—sadly, Sky/fire was away on a deep space mission, and the Arial/bots were nowhere to be found. Flyers tended to be more accepting, but none other than Power/glide attended—and Swo/op could only take so much of that mech!

The saving grace was the smorgasbord of food that drowned out the tables. Every type of energy/oned goodies one could imagine seemed to be present! Some of Swo/op's favorites were the mac and cheese loaded with gooey, melted cheese and bacon, French onion soup, cyberfish, and steak, just to name a few.

So, when the conversation wasn’t working, the winged mech simply filled his plate with decadent foods and gobbled them up. Each mouthful brought a smile to his lips. Each swallow made his tummy growl with pleasure. Each plate finished screamed out for another! The dishes ranged from savory to smokey, spicey to tangy, and crunchy to melt-in-your-mouth scrumptious!

Once all the dinner courses were pecked at, the dessert table was visited. The rainbow-colored dishes were so pretty to look at! They were even better to taste—the cherry pies were ever so sweet and contained a hint of an almond flavor. Danishes were freshly baked and very soft, with their icing bursting with acidic citrus filling. The mousse had the best velvety textures, and the chocolates had a rich cocoa flavor!

The food was so good it wasn’t until an angry growl announced just how stuffed he became.

He rubbed his servos over the plump swell, its plating bulging out and feeling extremely taunt. Prim/us, his belly ached as it moaned, desperately working to digest such a massive feast. Sitting back, Swo/op huffed. Breathing became more of a chore. He felt as if he had swallowed a bowling ball! Probably looked like he swallowed one as well.

Overindulging was totally worth it. His taste buds still danced with joy at all the delicious flavors! As his servos pressed at his quivering gut, Swo/op licked his lips, feeling the post-feasting slumber creeping in. Glancing around, no other ‘bot seemed keen on conversing with him. And he was simply too stuffed to bother mingling anymore.

He had his fill. Now, it was time to fly home.

That is if he could get this heavy frame off the ground! The flier frowned. He didn’t think of this aspect, but his cozy nest beckoned, and he gave the party the slip.

Slag, just walking seemed to take up so much energy! His body felt heavy as he dragged himself from the gathering to a clearing. He glanced at the sky—it was clear with only a few clouds littering the way. The freedom of flying was calling to him, and he made his way to transform.

At least attempt to.

His t-cog activated, and gears whined and clicked, but total transformation did not happen. Swo/op tried a few times, but a clunking and grinding sound was heard each time. His belly was simply too big! Furring his optics, Swo/op growled, not believing for one moment he was grounded!

He sucked in his gut- even using his servos to manipulate his flab as he transformed. This was challenging- gears vibrated that shouldn’t have, his frame erratically jerked, and he swore he smelt a faint smoke smell. Finally, changing into his alt-mode was complete, and he stood on the ground in his pterodactyl form. Releasing his breath, he felt his plating creak and bulge: if he had eaten one more plate, he’d probably pop some paneling off!

With transformation out of the way, the next step was take-off, and he knew his graceful ascension into the sky was not going to be pretty. Nonetheless, he waddled to a clearing and spread his wings wide. After giving a final stretch, those wings began flapping. He felt his body slowly rise but did not lift from the ground. Working harder, Swo/op desperately worked his appendages, but it still felt like trying to make a boulder airborne.

It didn’t take long for his wing joints to tire, but a final attempt was made. Crouching down, the flyer madly flapped its wings and leaped into the sky. He was in the air for all two seconds before plummeting back onto the ground.

Sadly, his feet slipped out from under him, and he rolled forward, grimacing as his overstuffed belly took the impact. He then rolled head over feet a few times before coming to a stop. Once dirt was shaken from his face, the bird-former groaned. Longingly, he glared at the sky, but he could not sail amongst the clouds! He was grounded.

With much difficulty, he returned to his root mode- there was slightly more room for his widened frame. He sat on the ground, rubbing a servo over his grumbling belly. Saddened that he could not take to the skies, he did not regret the feast.

He was, however, happy his fellow Dino/bots did not join him, for their ridicule over his predicament would have been unbearable. A smile appeared on his lips as he bathed in the sun’s warmth, rubbing his servos over his swollen belly and reminiscing of all the tasty dishes he had consumed.

Swo/op truly did enjoy the party.

.... .....

Sorry this took so long! Sometimes I really get into a slump with writing!!

[siberat]

*Slides Monopoly money*

Can I have some Fattytron drabble?

(T/fp, I/dw or E/S I don't mind) Im just thirsting for a fat Mega/tron who's too full yet keeps stuffing himself to get some bot's attention (SW, Rod/dy, Mags or Op im not really picky about ships kek). But yeah, Fattytron being very full-

Never really requested drabbles before so im sorry if it's weirdly worded aaaaaa-

-not Chunkytron ☆

this is a two parter, here is part 1 ! Little bit of a slow start.

Mega/tron x Sound/wave, feeding,

The only sound emanating from the empty room was his grumbling belly. Sure, the mission to retrieve the relic was a bust, but was it really wrong of him to be angry? How hard was it to foil those pesky Auto/bots and their child counterparts? The warlord growled as he busted open a fresh box of energon goodies. He had his supper, consisting of a generous portion of food, and now it was time for dessert.

At least the snacks had been replenished. By who? He didn’t know or care; he just unwrapped the light blue round cake and took a bite. The sweetness soothed his woes, even if just for a moment. Thankfully, he had the whole box to himself.

Cake after cake was devoured, each bite bringing a smile to his lips. His tongue eagerly licked up any cream that smeared over his lips. These treats hinted at vanilla and were ever so moist; it always put Mega/tron in his happy place.

Why?

It was simple. Being stuck working in the mines with next to no pay, one could not afford such snacks. Lunch consisted of liquid energon with metal additives; while it did the job, it wasn’t anything to write home about. However, one would occasionally magically appear in his dreary lunch pail. After admiring the pretty light pink color flecked with blue geode crunches, Mega/tronus would unwrap the surprise. It smelled so lovely- he swore the little round ball just reeked of sweetness! And that first bite lit his taste sensors ablaze.

He felt as if his whole frame was lifted out of those mines and into some kind of nirvana. Each bite brought him so much joy! Sadly, like with most things in life, all good things come to an end. After licking his claws clean, there was no more to consume, and he sat there looking at the empty wrapper.

Ok, he also licked the wrapper clean, but who could blame him?

Now, all these treats were gone, making him feel just the same: sad and nothing to look forward to. The evening would be much more productive if he reviewed his battle plans instead. His rumbling belly did not agree, but there were no more of his favorite treats in stock.

You know when you just want to be alone and not bothered by anyone or anything? Yeah, this is how Mega/tron felt. So, when the door opened in this tucked away room that not many mechs used, you could imagine the annoyed look washing over his face as he gave a death glare at whoever dared to enter.

Once the door fully opened, it revealed Sound/wave's long, spindly form.

Great. Just who the Decep/ticon leader wished to catch him pigging out on sweets- it was a super-duper family-size box nonetheless. And yes, he ate them all; their empty wrappers lying around him didn’t leave any doubt about who indulged in them all.

Primus, Sound/wave better not gripe about it!

Instead, the silent warrior respectfully tipped his helm, acknowledging his leader’s presence, then walked to the pantry.

And cue a loud belly grumble. Mega/tron bent forward and curled his arm over his swelled tummy. With brows furrowed, the gray and purple mech cursed himself for not retreating to his personal quarters.

Perhaps he could just get up and leave?

Well, the sound of the other walking back to the table squashed that idea. He tried to shimmy his midsection out of view. Out of the peripheral view of his optics, Mega/tron saw Sound/wave set a large box down and then take a seat.

Couldn’t Sound/wave take a hint? Indeed, he’d not be this oblivious…

Those thin fingers made quick work of ripping the seal from the box and opening it up. His visored helm took a peek, then rubbed his servos together in what can only be imagined as glee. Then, his servos reached into the box and gently lifted out its contents.

And yes, a stupid smiley face appeared on his visor as a large cake was lifted and set on the table.

Large cake.

It was light pink with blue geode crumbles.

And very, very large!

Mega/tron couldn’t help but stare at the gorgeous sight. This was the biggest of his favored treats he had ever seen! Before he knew it, he was licking his lips and reaching out a claw to help himself.

But Sound/wave slapped his hand away and wagged a finger.

How dare he! Mega/tron’s face scrunched as he growled, watching his subordinate grab a fork and stab into his favorite treat. Just how the slag could Sound/wave eat this? He had no freaking mouth!

But that fork traveled his way, and those furrowed optics grew wide in shock. What the slag was going on here? The treat stopped just short of his lips—so close that the warlord could practically taste the sweetness.

And Mega/tron just stared at the communication officer. Was he being serious? Was he wanting to feed him this cake? While the mech may have been unsure, his belly wanted the attention.

A loud, whining gurgle erupted, demanding to be fed.

And Mega/tron had a ferocious appetite!

And that chunk of cake pressed ever so teasingly against his lips. The spindly blue mech made some clicking noises and tilted his helm to the side.

Mega/tron was no dummy. He got the hint. Hearing the other’s engines purr, it was clear Sounwave wished to feed him. And the sound of the warlord's belly grumbling, he wanted to be fed.

Was there a downside to this?

[siberat]

roasting marshmallow

I can imagine a chubby sky/fire easily and eagerly keeping a lover warm Dispite being stuck in a blizzard. That soft marshmallow would simply wrap his pudgy frame around the other mech and hug. Engines would be purring as he happily hummed in enjoyment. The jets arms would rub smoothly up and down the others chilly frame and pulling them close to his pillowed gut until his lover no longer shivered.

‘All warm and cozy?’ Sky/fire’s voice calls out gently as his pecks a kiss on top the other’s helm.

the other mech simply snuggles in deeper, closing their optics and letting the sound of the larger jets engines-and grumbling belly- lull them into recharge.

[siberat]

*ordering fast food voice* Can I get uhhh...

Solo Phar/ma drabble?

Mayybee with him being jealous over Rat/chet and Dri/ft's relationship, specifically invested in the food and eating aspect. So he just fantasizes and imagines that he's being fed by Rat/chet or whatever while stuffing his face...

idk I just really like anthing with Phar/ma :3

( I did miss one aspect of your request, I am so sorry but here it is)

Life wasn’t fair.

 Pha/rma slammed himself back in his chair, crossed his arms over his cockpit, and pouted. The jet could obsessively spy on the other Doctor using spy cameras, and he did not like what he saw.

And just what did he see?

Rat/chet apparently took the plunge and conj/ux’ed up with some other, less deserving mech. Some ex’C/on named Dr/ift.  His love was getting all lovey-dovey with a sportscar, nonetheless. Cuddles. Kisses. His dear Rat/chet was all smiles and laughs as he spent his evenings pampering over this…this… pretty boy buy-mech.

What did Rat/chet ever do for him? Pha/rma growled, taking another massive bite of his snack.  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t be able to make it to your ceremony. I have to work late,’ or ‘That was tonight?’ His personal favorite was, ‘You knew I was busy and couldn’t get the night off…’

 That line still cut deeply. Was it asking too much to have his peer with him to celebrate his achievements?

Obviously, that answer was yes. The red-and-white Doctor always seemed to have an excuse to get away from doing things with him. Slag, he doubted his colleague even cared when they were separated so far away when the whole Del/phi post came up.

Pha/rma snorted as he shoved a massive mouthful of chocolate cake and its wrapper tossed onto the floor. Optics furrowed as he angrily sucked icing off his fingers. Rat/chet never made time for him, yet tripped all over this Dr/ift douchebag. Yeah, optics rolled at that truth.

Just what did this grounder have that he didn’t? Pri/mus, he was a prestigious doctor and was from the same class! Just who wouldn’t want a refined, cultured mech such as himself hanging on your arm as you gloated around the party, boasting of one’s accomplishments? The jet’s optics furrowed as a toothy sneer appeared on his face.

One of those accomplishments should be sporting such a catch of a con/jux! He was talking of himself, mind you, not this…this silly imposter that stole his glory! The grounder wasn’t even that good-looking!

With a heavy sigh, Pha/rma blindly reached for a box of fancy chocolates as his stomach grumbled. The fancy ribbon was ripped off, and the lid was pushed aside. Without tearing his optics off the video screen, fingers idly snagged a candy and popped it into his mouth. The sweetness of the cadmium rushed across his tongue, only temporarily numbing the pain of watching his crush swoon over another mech. Even when he pinched and rubbed at his now swollen belly, the sting of anger and jealousy did not ebb. But one after the other, those candies were devoured. One by one, his gut grew taunt.

Apparently, the jet wasn’t the only one who developed a sweet tooth.

Over the spying sessions of the surveillance cameras, Rat/chet loved providing a slew of different foods for Dr/ift to taste. By the swelling of that swords/mech’s frame, Dr/ift enjoyed consuming them. So, now Pha/rma had to endure watching his medic spoon-feed the disgusting ex-C/on.

And watch in envy at all the belly rubs that ensured. Yeah, his first balking at Dr/ift getting fatter was filled with laughter and ridicule: just look how that once sleek frame rounded out! It wouldn’t take long for Rat/chet to ditch this pig and come running to where he belongs: in HIS arms!

But something must be wrong with Rat/chet’s processor, for instead of being repulsed, his servo couldn’t stop groping. Those hands- technically, his hands- kneaded and caressed that chubby belly all hours of the evening. Rolls were gently pinched and loving swats slapped the amble aft. Ratch just couldn’t get enough of that ever-softening frame.

Seeing the playful banter, love-struck smiles, and ogling optics made Pha/rma sick! This should have been him! But now, all he could do was stare at this screen in the middle of the night and watch what should have been his.

Rat/chet should be feeding him spoonful after spoonful of such fine, decadent sweets! Those hands should ghost over his frame, tickle down his cockpit, and snake into the seams of his plating! It would be sublime to lay across the CMO’s frame, having the grounder whisper how great yours truly was in his audial as warm smiles were tossed for his enjoyment! To have his godly frame worshipped….

Why did Rat/chet never touch him like that? His belly needed rubbing. His plating had long grown taunt with the onslaught of never-ending sweets shoved down his maws. His once sleek frame softened, love handles gathered along his sides, and his thighs thickened. Slag, his cockpit had more difficulty clicking back into place upon transforming back into root mode.

Everything Dr/ift had, he had. Everything Dr/ift could provide, he could offer better.

The jet grimaced, swallowing hard before banging his servo on his chest. Reaching for the fizzy ener/gon drink, Pha/rma took a hearty swig. The sting of the strong carbonation was ignored as he chugged, hoping to drown his sorrows. His chair squeaked and groaned, threatening to give out, as he leaned back to tip the rest of the beverage from the bottle.

The only thing this accomplished was making his tummy swell and churn even more. Painful quakes erupted, placing such an uncomfortable pressure on his insides. It felt like he swallowed a bomb that was on the verge of exploding. A loud, high-pitched wail emitted from his midsection as servos clutched the quivering mass.

‘Pri/mus,’ Pha/rma muttered, closing his optics as this pressure rose in his throat. His pedes shuffled uncomfortably on the floor as the jet squirmed in his seat. A fist banged on his chest again. He cleared his throat.

If only Rat/chet were here to soothe his aching belly! To feel those servo caress his belly, working out the clenching and spasming with his touch, would simply be divine. Pha/rma’s own hands rubbed tiny little circles across his angry paunch, but it wasn’t the same. It would feel- and look- so much better if Rat/chet were on his knees worshipping his stuffed belly… placing kisses along his acquired stretch marks, cooing nice words to him, and calming this grumbling monster!

“Blllooooourrrrrrrgghhhaaaaapppp!” Pha/rma’s optics shot wide open at the uncultured behavior.

The sound echoed through the empty room, reminding him of how alone he was.

Rat/chet would never be here.

Rat/chet never wanted him.

Rat/chet never took notice of him.

Now was the time to dig into that rich, red velvet cake.

[siberat]

May I request some nice and fat Rod/imus just spoiling himself? Probably gets warned for getting too fat....

sorry for the delay- and I added to the prompt.

rodi/mus x dri/ft x rat/chet. Chubfic

rodi/mus is in much need of a change in perspective. Dr/ift comes to the rescue (Rat/chet helps) and so does some tasty foods.