Egg Preg - Tumblr Posts

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.

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".

If i'm being real there is so little egg laying or pregnancy starscream content. At least I don't see that much

I very well remember at least two good fics with Starscream laying eggs. Funny, they're both TFP Megastar and I don't even read on this ship much. Shorter one. Longer one. About the second, check the rest of this author's works. They really provide pregnant Starscream stuff in production quantities.

Όπτιμους ἀνέστη! Happy Easter. I will burn in hell.

TFP Optimus gives a messy egg-birth. Ratchet is here too.

Flying into the Well of All Sparks, Optimus was ready to sacrifice himself, or at least what he's grown used to think of as himself, his frail, mortal form of metal and wires. He was prepared to merge with Primus. Apparently, Primus had other plans.

It started with warm airflow embracing him near the end of the Well, permeating his armor like it was paper thin, overwhelming him, igniting and soothing at the same time, and finally carrying him lightly back to the surface. It continued with his friends' confused happiness. And this new fuzzy feeling, and Ratchet's concern, and a discovery. Oh, the discovery. Optimus Prime not only came back alive. He came back full of eggs.

Living, precious sparks, nested in their vacuoles and soft, translucent shells, were growing inside his gestation tank. The organ designed to incubate one to several eggs has expanded to embrace the holy gift. Ratchet tried to count them but failed. There were just a lot, mostly blue, but some green, pink, and yellow.

Ratchet's medical fascination mixed with religious awe. The more he observed and studied the unique case of his Prime, the deeper it got, even though he had to face things that had to be left out of the equation for others. Medical confidentiality was a thing when it came to Optimus' increasing sexual appetite, to him constantly being on the verge of arousal due to being stuffed in a quite pleasurable way, to his gestation tank pressing on his waste reservoir and making the messiah of Primus visit the waste receiver twice a day. Optimus' increased energon consumption was less of a sensitive issue, yet he was still uncomfortable drinking this much openly, so Ratchet had to watch him fuel in private to control his ration.

So much stayed behind the closed doors of the medbay during Optimus' daily scheduled check-ups. So many little… inconveniences.

When Ratched had Optimus in the examination chair once again, everything seemed noticeably more intense. Optimus seemed more nervous and tired, and he told Ratchet about feeling so full that he was afraid to move. Even his waist plating looked slightly pushed from the inside. He lubricated copiously, letting out oily pink droplets, and the valve visibly throbbed so hard Ratchet called for all his medical professionalism not to growl in frustration and want. He was lying to himself about it being just fascination and awe. Fascination and awe never leave you with your spike in hand after your friend's and leader's daily check-up, moaning and thinking about his heavily pregnant tank.

Ratchet prepared the endoscope, and Optimus tensed. "It's going in," Ratchet informed him, trying to sound calm.

When the head of the endoscope touched the eagerly unfurling petals of Optimus' valve, there was a sound of a small piece of armor retracting. Ratchet tried not to stare at the spike pressurizing, instead focusing on Optimus' frantic apologies. It's alright. They'd been there. No need to feel ashamed. But holy Primus, fuck, how big this spike was, and how big the valve below was, and how smoothly it took the endoscope.

"Ratchet, please, stop." He complied immediately, detecting almost pleading undertones in the strained low voice. Optimus growled, and his hips jerked uncontrollably, grinding on the probing device. "I'm sorry, but I feel like my waste tank may give. The sparks are pressing on it."

"Then we should empty it before it's damaged," Ratchet told him, the phrasing felt odd and ridiculous but was aimed to comfort Optimus, highlighting him being aided and taken care of. The endoscope slid slowly in and out, stimulating the nodes where the tube connecting the waste tank with a small nozzle next to the valve lay close to the inner interface equipment, intertwined with its tubing and energon lines.

Optimus shuddered, and moaned, and started pouring the floor before the examination chair with periwinkle blue fluid. It arched between his legs, soiling Ratchet's hand still holding the endoscope. It wasn't the first time a patient voided the doctor, damn, they've been through the war quite horror-rich, but it was the first time Ratchet didn't really mind.

"I need a sample anyway," he said, grabbing a test tube from a tray and catching the stream with it. It did little to dispel Optimus' embarrassment, but at least it was true and gave Ratchet his pitiful excuse to watch closely his Prime peeing with, with the endoscope inside, open, ready to lay his blessed eggs.

Oh yes, he was ready. As soon as he stopped emptying himself and Ratchet took his hand away to clean it alongside the tool, his body spasmed like it was welcoming a long-denied overload. "Ratchet, I feel my destination almost…" He groaned, not from pain. "They are coming, I cannot hold them anymore."

"No, damn, Optimus, w-wait a minute!"

Ratchet rushed to the shelf, where awaited the basket, voluminous enough to accommodate a prime clutch and padded with soft material. Two seconds later, he found Optimus mindlessly stroking his spike, trying to distract himself and relieve the tension at the same time. His plating noisily rattled against the chair, his broken whimpers made Ratchet's mind dizzifyingly spin and Ratchet's panels open, but Ratchet was left with little time to care. He saw Optimus' valve squirting a jet of lubricant, his whole body contracting, and a first butch of divine eggs falling wetly into the basket.

They were magnificent. Glowing, warm, colorful, fertilized by Primus, and coming from Optimus' overloading valve. Ratchet didn't hear his own praises and prayers, only Optimus' powerful engine roaring, his cooling fans whirring, his shaky in-vents, and beautiful strangled grunts escaping his voice box.

With his own spark pulsing and his spike throbbing, Ratchet held the basket with one hand, using the other to touch the seam between Optimus' thigh and hip plating to draw attention to himself. "You alright, Optimus? Any pain now?"

"I am fine, my friend. How are… they?"

"Perfect, you… You are doing wonderful," Ratchet reassured, the container in his hand was getting heavier and heavier. Optimus' hand never left his own spike, and Ratchet surrendered too. Powerless before the spectacle of life and pleasure and how badly it aroused him, he placed the basket on the floor, right in the puddle, and quickly stroked himself until the blinding overload made him moan and grab Optimus' leg.

It took a couple minutes more and two more small overloads for Optimus to tense in a final one, his spike spilling intensely, his frame using every output to dump the charge. He was crying.

The basket was full, the eggs piled in it, glowing. Each spark was visible inside, each had its own unique song. Ratchet and Optimus, both calming down, could already sense their energy and life.

A gift, a treasure. The future.

Oh yes, the idea of vegetative-style reproduction in Cybertronians is so wholesome and sexy. Partly because the more we separate the process of making kids from the burden of raising them, the better. If we view the topic through kink, having to take care of little goblins for years is not sexy.

But impregnating the planet with eggs? HOT.

I once stumbled across a (very controversial!) claim about Ancient Egyptian pharaohs jerking off their royal phalli over the waters of the Nile to trigger its flood and help crops grow. Probably a pseudo-historical speculation inspired by the myth of Atum. (I had to google it to check in case it's something my mind's made up, and the titles of the articles are bullshit. "Grossest Ritual of Ancient Egypt" my ass. Western civilization is a piece of crap. I'd die to see such a ritual, even if pharaohs never actually performed it.) 

So, yeah, the idea of people fertilizing the environment is so exquisite. So rooted in the philosophy of creature–nature connection and complementarity. Maybe we should explore it on this blog one day.

Does anyone else ever think abt the worldbuilding of eggnancy bc I do frequently... eggpreg sexy but what do yall think happens to the eggs once they're laid...

My personal pet headcanon is that it works like plant reproduction. You pollinate the pussy and the egg is a seed and you plant it in the fertile cybertronian soil (mineral dust and energon)

Couple centuries later a new robot sprouts from the dirt fully formed. À la cabbage patch kid