"Pits Of Kaon" Was Actually An Afterparty For Those Who Paid Extra Shanix To See Gladiators Delivering

"Pits of Kaon" was actually an afterparty for those who paid extra shanix to see gladiators delivering some other sort of circenses after tearing each others' guts out. For instance, them being restrained, edged, and milked. Those who made a good show on the arena got their bonds loosened enough to allow them to spike a false valve by themselves. And those whose performance sucked (even if they won) got just restrained and forced to watch.

Every known gladiator went through it, at least once. The celibacy requirement in most gladiator's contracts was no joke. Megatron? Oh, was an absolute crowd-pleaser. Why he later turned to revolutionary ideas and terror? Motherfuckers banned "Pits of Kaon".

My local cinema is pirating TF: One. Guess who just paid an absolutely disgusting price for one ticket just to sit in the darkness and wait for technical issues. I hope the damn movie is worth this rip-off. Or at least valveplug content I'll be able to enjoy afterwards is worth it. (I've seen some Sentinel porn already, I highly suspect it'll at least make my mourning for my money a tiny bit lighter.)

Out of every Continuity, who is your all time favorite Tf character. Or alternatively, do you have any other all time faves in different fandoms? If so, who and what fandom.

I hope ur having a good day!

About my TF favourites, that's an interesting question. You can ask me at different times and get different answers. I can forget things and then rediscover then from a new, brighter perspective. Characterization itself is often inconsistent in this fandom, so mostly go for specific versions of the characters.

I tend to like Shokwave. He's a fine case of how ambitions may work in a person with enough brain cells (or circuits, in his case). His TFP design is also hot as hell.

I like MTMTE Krok, simply for pointing out one important thing. And for being a good leader, which he rarely gets credits for. I like Cyclonus for pointing out another thing I've grown to find crucial. Dear god, I like Whirl even though his story reveals something I utterly despise. I like Tarn, he's one of the best additions to this universe. (Yeah, you can tell whose work with the characterization I find outstanding, despite its major fuckups.)

I like Ratchet, man's just a sacrifice factory, yet for some reason is known mostly for his grumpy old man personality. I find IDW Arcee charming. And TFP Knock Out has an interesting combination of traits and is also a fine addition to the series.

The list in not exhaustive, that's just who comes to mind right now.

As for my non-TF favorites, well, to name is hell of a task. I like a lot of thigs, so its hard to pick. Like, if we're discussing a certain piece of media (or a genre, or a trope, anything to narrow the topic), it's easier for me to talk about characters than if I'm doing this out of context. (And I'm not sure if I'll make any sense mentioning some Turkish TV series.)

I've mentioned Nicholas Rush from "Stargate: Universe" here, so let it be him. And Shevek from U. K. Le Guin's "The Dispossessed", he has a good point. And I'm watching "Breaking Bad" now, and I've absolutely come to admire Jesse.

Have a good day too!

Hm. Xenophiliac tfa Beachcomber. Especially big fan of aliens with tentacles, loves to be filled up with cum and/or eggs, then cuddle with the aliens while he incubates their spawn

Although I'm not familiar with TFA aside from posts (mostly about MegOp size difference, lol, and Shockwave's cool design), I can see it to be very likely. Tentacles are usually full of initiative and ready to make the first move. And cuddly alien monsters? Yeah. I love tentacles. And I'm here for characters being xenosexual freaks and seeking hookups with Lovecraftian folks.

Ravage's death is one of the lamest shit in the story. Him living a suffering with some kind of body integrity dysphoria or just his body scheme being fucked up instead would've had more potential.

stares into the distance. thinking about my "ravage lives" au again where both ravage and megatron are dealing with their own frames failing them. megatron having been rebuilt time and time again and is now in a body that is no longer his own, that he doesn't feel connected to, that has no bite. ravage having a body that no longer serves its original purpose- what purpose does a cassette serve without a host? and when did ravage start seeing his frame as something that needed to have a use rather than just being him?

there are sections of megatron's frame that he cannot feel anymore. the very ends of his fingers, a joint here, a panel there. his plating feels loose against his protoform; there is no connection between his spark and his shell. and ravage dealing with the aftermath of being torn in half by tarn. his legs and spinal strut were rebuilt, of course, but it's not the same. none on the lost light are specialized in the care of a cassette's frame. sometimes his spine is stiff, sometimes his legs lock up, sometimes he aches. and sometimes he can't move at all; forced to depend on those around him and despising the dependency of it.

idk im rambling. i just think about them a lot.

Well, it eventually resulted into something. A little prelude. Not sure if I should tag this as "dirty talk", shit is just weird. TaraProwl wet bondage adventures. It was hours. Hours of cold rage, frustration, and despair. Prowl was captured, immobilized, swaddled in Tarantulas' sticky web. An inhibitor kept him unable to transform in an attempt to free himself, his T-cog ached from all his fruitless attempts to overcome its effect. And there was another ache growing slowly as his system processed energon that the hideous spider had forcefully filled his tank with earlier.

Prowl was well aware of the eyes watching over his plight, feeding over his suffering. And oh, there was no way Tarantulas didn't know. He knew about how Cybertronians' bodies work enough to change said bodies. He'd changed himself, defaced his own nature. Prowl's fuel system and all its delicate processes were no secret to him. He knew how badly Prowl needed to go.

Prowl was grinding his teeth, feeling tiny gears in his jaw spinning. He could wait. He'd seen worse, right? He wasn't giving Tarantulas what his twisted mind might covet. Ping after ping from his waste tank were ignored, but each one made a tiny needle of fear sting his spark. He in-vented sharply when his internals shifted slightly, giving the reservoir more room to extend. That was bad. He was running out of time. If he is unable to come up, by some miracle, with a plan or if someone doesn't free him, his tank will simply crack. And neither bravado nor autosuggestion about how tough shit of a cop he is will stop his tank's content from spilling out before Tarantulas' twice-damned gaze.

"Enough of your games, Tarantulas, release me!" he groaned finally.

Tarantulas' disturbing body shape separated itself from the shadow on the left. He approached Prowl slowly, savoring the picture.

"You've played my game for so long, and only now you're calling for it to stop? Not because of your precious Autobots waiting for you, but because of your full bladder?"

"Don't call it that!" Prowl barked, flinching at the word choice. Tarantulas' fascination with organic shit was truly off-putting, yet made his consciousness flush with something hot and indistinguishable. 

His waste release duct was spasming, hidden behind the panel, sending heat and vibration to all adjacent systems. His interface array was the closest. His valve was clenching with the force of his need, as in reminiscence of hours and hours of work dragging on, of his gritted teeth, a stirring ache in his pelvic section coming to his processor, dispelling the fog of his dissociation, and a trembling, pitiful relief he got after barely making it to the empty washracks.

And Prowl saw it. A flask in Tarantulas' hand, a hungry twitch of his mandibulas. In his damnation, Prowl cut off the visual input.

Tarantulas was messing with the web below Prowl's waist, careful not to free his captive's legs enough so he could kick. Making Prowl part his thighs and swathing them again, leaving only a small area of his crotch open. Only for Prowl to open his warm panel.

Prowl fought an instant urge to uncover his valve as if it could diminish the pressure in his tank. His sensitive audials picked up the sound of Tarantulas' fleecy paw sliding over the glass of the flask. Prowl's failing systems were sending desperate reports that read all as one: it's over, he is voiding in mere minutes, no matter what. His voice box emitted a broken moan. Something clicked, and he was late to realize that it was his valve cover.

Still voluntarily sightless, Prowl couldn’t see the flask lowering between his legs, where his waste nozzle was placed next to the valve rim, slightly to the left but still close enough to a set of three nodes, one big and two smaller. All three blinking, signaling his heightened charge and his impending defeat. It hurt, and his body tried to arch, the web tugging on the doors behind his back as if to keep him aware of his humiliating pose.

"My dear," Tarantulas' voice was a throaty whisper now. "You know very well that I've surpassed the prejudices of disgust and shame, and nothing in your body or essence can repel me. I observed urination in thousands of species. You are my most beautiful subject, so yours..."

"SHUT UP! You bastard, let me go!" Prowl screeched, uncaring of the hysterical cracks and syncopes in his voice. His brilliant, remarkable memory capable of performing multiple extremely consuming tasks and tracking thousands of targets at the same time, oh, this memory was clogged with one gnawing, swirling, agonizing demand from his excretory system.

For one millisecond, his trapped, exhausted mind considered letting go and striking the damned turpid spider with a stream, wetting his abysmal fleecy body with a mix of pent-up waste energon, slight alcohol scent, and shame. Even shoved away as far as generated, the thought made his insides boil hotter, and a bead of lubricant appeared on the crease between his valve petals. And a dribble came out of his spasming waste duct. Prowl was heaving, creaking his teeth in a futile attempt to hold his bulwark for a minute, a second more. Even if it cost him the last shreds of his dignity when his spike cover reacted to the heat and the pressure pooled in his pelvis and opened, and a wet head poked out. Everything was dull, only his spark and overfilled tank were thrumming in rapid pulses.

"Let me see how you surrender," Tarantulas said to him, and something soft and tickling came right to his activated node for the slightest brush that made Prowl's engine choke on a roar. His tank vibrated, and a dribble turned into a desperate brook in a moment. 

He's voiding into the fucking flask, he realized. Voiding with a mercilessly loud tinkling and gushing sound. With his spike half-emerged from its housing and his valve rippling on nothing. His audials are registered Tarantulas going on about the allure of the process, about Prowl filling the flask so good and providing him with perfect material, but it's like coming from light years away. Prowl was letting out his content in a thick, messy stream, and barely audible whimpers were bleeding from his open mouth. The release was euphoric. Terrifying. His spike was out, his nodes pricked with charge, and his whole neuronet was prepared for something to trigger another response, another release.

It didn't come. Prowl went strong and plentiful into the flask. Then, he could tell by the sound, on the floor, still panting from decreasing pressure. Then it was a trickle that stopped abruptly. 

He activated his optics again to the sight of Tarantulas holding a full flask and examining grayish-blue fluid. Disgust and arousal were interweaving in Prowl, making him so sick for a millisecond he is certain he’d throw up if his fuel tank wasn’t empty.

"Perfect. Even the way you process energon is perfect." Tarantulas said again. "You've provided me with a beautiful harvest of crystals, Prowl. I've always said that we could achieve incredible things together. I have to leave you now to start with the transmutation. Please, be patient, I'll fuel you up later." 

He gave Prowl one last long gaze from top to toe, holding it a tiniest bit longer on the exposed, denied interface array, and silently walked away.