Vaginaplasty - Tumblr Posts

If you knew how many nasty medical kink ideas parade through my brain, you'd feel pity for me. Today it's Spinister giving Fulcrum a bottom surgery, part 1/2. The procedure of reformatting Fulcrum into a K-con was quick and rough. Living weapon production prioritizes rate and efficiency over individual approach and actually making it comfortable for patients. Fulcrum heard about those who got their post-reformatting dysphoria so awful they asked to be used as fast as possible, ironically, not because of their passion for The Cause. Maybe it was done this way on purpose.

Some of Fulcrum's components have felt like not sitting right since the reformation. And now, when the war is over, it hits even harder, but it's not the worst issue. The worst is that now he doesn't have to die and can enjoy life for a little while, before they run into the DJD again. But he's missing some parts designed for life enjoyment. Long story short, his spike and valve are long gone, his interface panel is sealed.

That's what he told Spinister, who is now working between his legs. Fulcrum's sensors below his waist are shut down, so it's a loud "A-ha!" that tells him the seal's finally come off. Spinister clicks, eyeing the bare array.

"Dirty work," he says, sounding amused. Fulcrum is looking now too, and the whole thing is… unsettling. Dented, crumpled metal. Melted wiring. Well, maybe Fulcrum shouldn't feel shy about Spinister staring at his junk, because there's no junk, technically. This thought is not helping, though.

"They uprooted your fun parts but left the spike housing in place. The juice system seems fine too," Spinister's finger is pointing at a hole with rippled edges that used to be a spike housing. "I can't restore your hoo-ha and ding-dong, sorry, no spare materials. But I can make a neo-cunny from your spike housing. If I fix the tubing, you'll get all nice and wet when horny again! I just need to rewire it here and ri-ight there. You like being spiked?"

Heat washes through Fulcrum's energon vessels in a wave. And maybe it's a glitch in his audio processing, but Spinister sounds… suggestive?

"You mean you can create a valve?" Fulcrum asks hesitantly.

"Short and cute one, yeah!"

Short and cute sounds better than nothing at all. And to be honest, Fulcrum really liked being spiked back then.

So, for the next half an hour, he's staring at the ceiling with his sensors still numb and only his spread-out pose and Spinister's soft humming telling him about the magic being performed. When they're finished, he's hesitating again, not sure if he's ready to see the result now. Maybe it's better to thank the doc, close his panels, and explore himself (in any way it takes) in the safety of his hab. But Spinister's "C'mon, look, that's a cute one" makes him in-vent deeply. And look.

And oh damn, it's a valve. Placed where his spike used to be. Smaller than his old one. But it's definitely a valve, with delicate petals tightly closed over it. Even a small node is visible below the entrance. Could be a beautiful minibot cunt, Fulcrum thinks, feeling weirdly hot. He's not a narcissist or shit, no, but seeing his own array functional again fills him with so much happiness that it quickly transforms into excitement, then into arousal. With his sensors awoken back through the medical panel, he can feel his neo-valve fucking TINGLING.

"Wanna give it a test drive?" Spinister asks, admiring his work and reaching with his finger to touch. Fulcrum nods weakly and pushes his hips up. And oh, he's feeling, he's feeling it.

Lubricant's oozing out while Spinister's big fingertip's circling the external lining, testing the sensitivity, or teasing, or toying, or everything at the same time. When his pad brushes the node and slips lower, the fleshy petals stick tightly around his phalange, and Fulcrum's overloading. His insides are clenching. Mechanisms that used to help his spike pressurize are spasming haltingly, as if confused by their new function. So odd and sweet at the same time. Fulcrum can't hold back a whine.

Spinister lets him catch his breath for several seconds before standing up, but not to move away.

"See, it worked," he says, his plating proudly (or eagerly?) puffing up. "I'll spike you now, right?"

I guess I'm tagging this as "docking". Because it's hot and I used it as a reference. Spinister giving Fulcrum a bottom surgery, part 2/2. Part 1/2 here.

Fulcrum is still high on his post-overload when he's gathered from the medical workbench and carried towards the living compartment. It's nice to be carried in strong arms for once, he admits a bit moonily. Spinister is going about how his new valve may need him to choose different positions due to its unusual placement. Hands and knees may not work for Fulcrum anymore, missionary may need some practice, but not it's perfect for "Slidin' and glidin', I mean, scissoring, of course".

"What's scissoring?" Fulcrum asks, confused, but the next second his back hits the soft surface of Spinister's berth. And a plushie buries its absurdly big head in his against his shoulder. And one more against his side. 

"Misfire gave these guys to me," Spinister says, following his surprised gaze. "They eat bad dreams."

For a moment, Fulcrum thinks that plushies on the berth aren't much of a turn-on. But Spinister's hands are quickly back on him, and, well, he doesn't really mind. 

The exam Spinister is giving his still wet neo-valve feels equally like a procedure and a foreplay. He's massaging the petals lightly, spreading them as if admiring his work again, and heat is rising up to Fulcrum vents with such intimate attention. 

"You like kissing?" Spinister asks, and as far as Fulcrum knows, it's not something from a medical questionnaire regarding sensor feedback and flexibility, yet he shakes his head yes, and the next moment Spinister's faceplate transforms away. 

The kiss is surprisingly soft, almost chaste, but then the slickiest glossa in the world licks out a small moan from Fulcrum's mouth, and it echoes with an odd flutter in his groin. Feels like his spike is struggling to push itself out. But oh, he doesn't have a spike. His processor is still running old arousal protocols, expecting his array to work as it used to in a default set.

With a finger pad pressing at his housing, he holds his vents. With a single phalanx, clutches the bedding. A system warning tells about the pressure being too strong, of possible traumatization. But all what is really getting through his sensornet is a sweet ache. Lost in this dissonance, Fulcrum doesn't have enough processor power to worry about a large helicopter type climbing over him, trapping him under a massive chassis. He catches a glimpse of Spinister's spike: it's conical, with a small pointy tip and a massive base, pink biolights flashing cheerfully at him. 

Then there's pink metal before his eyes, and something firm touches his opening. Fulcrum gets a hold on Spinister's sides, steadying himself as he's slowly penetrated. The tip pushes in. And shit, it feels odd. Those mechanisms that used nest his inactive spike and make it pressurize are now gripping the intruding piece, confused. It's not supposed to feel so good. But it is.

Spinister is rocking his hips with the smallest thrusts, fucking Fulcrum with just the tip, mumbling hoarsely about a nice result and a real fine pussy. Not that Fulcrum really minds when a charged head of the spike is irritating his remaining sensors in the best way he's never considered. Less than two minutes after he's desperately banging at the big chest before him with a "Spins, ugh, gonna cum, gonna cum".

Immediately the spike pops free from his wet valve, sliding over his new node before letting out the first burst of thick fluid and sliding again and again. 

Fulcrum turns his head to the side to muffle himself with the plushie. It feels like both at the same time. Like overloading with a spike and a valve. He clenches hotly when Spinister lets a bit out right over his opening.

He's cooling down slowly. Mostly because Spinister's heated frame is still trapping him to the bad. Somehow the guy got comfortable on his hands and knees, probably distracted with something Fulcrum can't see. 

"Thank you, I guess," Fulcrum tries. "Felt really good. Are you going to let me go?"

"What, you don't wanna try scissorin' now? I was giving your thingy a minute to recover. Ya good now?"

"I... Give me another one, okay? I think we can go one more time. And what's scissoring?"