How TF Reconstruct Pregnancy Into Kink

How TF reconstruct pregnancy into kink

Graphic pregnancy in fandom and in smut in particular was my squick. I remember craving peroxide to wash my brain after reading a mpreg fic, I cringed so hard the cringe almost got imprinted into my DNA. But there was also something intriguing. And by dissecting the whole concept, I found what it is that squicks me: body shape deformation, round visible bellies, painful birth, and, em, actual babies.

Transformers really changed a lot for me. The whole "pregnant machine" shit is so surreal and post-post-post-modern that I don't really associate it with human reproduction. Alien robots and xeno reproduction in general are just about artistic license and the rule of horny.

You just scrape out everything that doesn't work for you and add anything that gives you a boner. Cybertronians laying eggs? Why not. Laying being sexy and pleasurable? Yeah.

And what do I find inexplicably and oddly hot? Secret pregnancy. No visible signs, no significant weight gain. Maybe only a scrupulous look can find the waist being thickened. Otherwise there's no major changes in the bot's shape. But oh boy, how it may FEEL. Should we talk about the sex drive spiking like crazy (pun intended)? And it ends with an orgasm and a Kinder Surprise Egg. Wow, tasty.

Anon's ask about Megatron's sluttification passed through the prism of my brain and turned into something much sweeter. Let's look back into Megs' miner days, when his views and values were still in the process of being forged (so unlike himself, sorry, I just can't). Pre-war miners' lovemaking.

It's Terminus with whom Megatron shares his first attempts at writing. Miners are deprived of the luxury of having time to sit together to look through what Megatron has to share, so Terminus usually reads it whenever possible and then provides his review. It's simple and straightforward, no sophisticated shit for pampered intellectuals.

That's how Terminus finds a note, saying, "By radically renouncing and refusing to understand the mechanisms of our oppression, we put ourselves at risk of being detached from the reality of our custody. Instead of indulging ourselves in blind radicalism, we should analyze: what makes the system work? Functionism defines us through our bodies, because it's our bodies that make profit in this system. So, instead of rejecting our bodies, like some reject their alt-modes, we should make our bodies work for us. Our frames are not holy temples of Primus, they are our workshops in which we forge and shape our freedom."

The next page is much more rough, just a quick note about prostitution being stigmatized to deny the lower class any additional ways to gain wealth. The text itself is fine, but the subtext feels suspicious to Terminus. Is his Megatron really…

So he asks Megatron himself when they meet in their shared hab later. Megatron calmly tells about his decision to raise funds by making use of his body, which is a far cry from what is commonly viewed as appealing. But there are bots who're looking for manual workers. Even some freaks from high-ranking castes get wet from the perspective of a strong lower-classed scum fucking them. That's what they want. Perverts.

"Load of scrap," Terminus frowns. "You're wasting your words."

He hates telling Megatron this, but the kid is really confused now. He just has to help him reexamine this shit, so he starts with a kiss. Maybe Terminus is not as good with his words as Megatron (honestly, very few are), but he's good with his hands. Miners' bodies are not very sensitive, but he knows where to touch: wrists, hips near the codpiece. And Megatron's head equipment makes a perfect erogenous zone when free from his helmet.

Terminus is licking these trembling petals, careful not to bite. The effect it has on Megatron is impossible to ignore: mouth slightly open in soft gasps, both parts of his array ready and wet. Kneeling, Terminus pushes his legs apart, and Megatron moans in anticipation. Maybe Terminus is not as good with his word, but damn, how good he is with his tongue, licking Megatron's spike and valve. Like he's starving and Megatron is leaking pure energon, if hunger could also explain hot, tender kisses. 

Miners' equipment is most basic, plain, and unadorned, with a meager amount of nodes, but Terminus is eager and relentless when it comes to making Megatron shudder and ready to discharge, but now he's not letting him.

"Your body is a holy temple." Terminus is looking straight into Megatron's flickering eyes. "And you won't let anyone use it disrespectfully. Say it!" The command is added with a quick lick on the valve rim, making the rings inside clench. 

"Say it! And I will overload you."

And, head thrown back and voice cracking with beeps and static, Megatron utters the words. The next second this wonderful tongue is on him again, pushing mercilessly inside, fulfilling the promise. Megatron is holding onto the wall behind him, a stream from his valve hitting Terminus in the face, an unbelievingly blissful moment before it's drunk down. His spike shooting upwards, only for it to land on Terminus' helm and a bit on his back. 

Terminus doesn't mind, as long as his message is understood. 

And if you're looking for the very beginning of Megatron's radicalization, that is it.

Seems like I need my own personal cum dump, so here it is. This is my new Transformers-valveplug-blog no one ever asked for. Will stay until I regret or find god. So, here's gonna be my filthy robot sex microfiction. What to expect: Transformers, adult content, valveplug (other types of intimacy also possible), assorted kinks and fetishes, loads of fluids (funny colored robot cum, lubricants and waste), emotional angst, sexual tension, unrequited crushes, weird alien anatomy, dubcon, possible heats and breeding, typos and poor vocabulary choices. NOT to expect: rape, bimbofication, sexual slavery, "character-name should be my personal piss-whore" shit, prostitution. Smash the like button so I know you're up for my shit. Let's get dirty.

Egg-laying Starscream is the cornerstone of the fandom. Mostly, it's Megatron's brood. But what if it's not?

Maybe some Cybertronians, regardless of their alt-mode (so it's not just seeker/plane thing, let's admit, Orion Pax did it too before the Matrix fucked up his reproductive health), can lay unfertilized eggs if healthy, well-fueled, and interface regularly (or use other methods to properly discharge). That's how their reproductive system keeps itself toned. So, it's Knock Out x Starscream getting a bit eggy.

Starscream stopped laying even before the war started. Being constantly stressed, underfueled, in proximity of Megatron, then on Earth, everything just screams "fuck, no". Not getting laid for years doesn't help. 

Well, until enter Knock Out. Who, after Breakdown's death, starts giving Starscream some special and oddly gratifying attention. He's not courting him. But a thorough and careful check-up, an unnecessary but attentive repair, a buffing session, adding his ration with nutritional supplements from Knock Out's medical stocks… It gets Starscream warming up to him. And not only Starscream himself. 

That's how Starscream starts coming not only for medical treatment, but for straight-up massage. Yeah, to "maintain his wings", but have you ever seen a seeker with their wings on their waist, neck, or hips? Inside their valve? Knock Out is happy to provide, though, since he gets this valve to himself for fucking and massaging his spike with its outer petals. 

That's what Knock Out is counting on, when Starscream is melting in his hands once again, pointy fingertips buried under Starscream's plating and massaging needy whines out of him. His valve is already on display and unusually wet. Nodes are pulsing like a warning light. "Someone is eager today," Knock Out is teasing, placing his hand on this dripping valve. But the reaction he gets is bordering on panic, Starscream is thrashing and whining in confusion. The sensation is vaguely familiar but long-forgotten, he feels like it's something inside of him that he needs to let out. Like… oh hell, like he needs to void his waste tank, bad, and he can't hold, and…

It doesn't happen. Something is pushing through his valve channel, spreading his flexing inner rings and stimulating his nodes so hard he's overloading, losing his kneeling stance, and falling onto Knock Out. Who, as Starscream notices when he's finally able to vent and process the input, is holding something energon-blue and glistening. 

"Oh, we're laying pretty little eggs today," Knoch Out whistles. "That's juicy".

Rodimags or Rodimims please? I dont have any specific kinks, just them, but may be something with discipline and punishment?

I've started writing down a Rodimus x Minimus piece and got wordy again. Will post separately later. For now, a little headcanon for you. I don't think Magnus Armor ever had interface equipment, so to have a fucktime with him you have to love and cherish a fun-sized, handsome moustached bot.

Honestly, to me pillows and mattresses for Cybertronians are 100% logical. See, with their massive squarishy-edgy frames with bulging details on their backs, there absolutely has to be something soft and squishy for them to lay comfortably on. Their pillow technology must be miles beyond what we now have. Just imagine pillows that intuitively adapt to your head's weight and shape, so that they can support massive helms but are also pliable.

And what else? Pillow fucking. They don't have human skin that could get irritated. And they can produce more lubricants, so their experience must be a whole other level.

Every Cybertronian sleeps with their bedding in more than one sense. At least once in a lifetime, which is long as hell. That's just unavoidable. So every time you look at your favorite robot, no matter how much of a big and scary baddie or a morally high-grounded goodie they are, keep in mind that they fucked a pillow. Hard and wet.

I'm trying to figure out who must be the champion, the ultimate pillow fucker. The fandom suggests that it's Swerve. But is it just because you guys like him being a loser who never gets any?