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Beauty Within	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 4014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

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A Mech in Need

“Well, well, the little slogger’s still got some fight!” Starscream snarled as he smashed the small mech’s head into the bulkhead again. The warm feeling of the freshly spilt energon flowing over his fingers caused an excited urge to jump from his core.

Cliffjumper slumped to the ground, fresh agony shooting through him. His naked circuitry no longer had any protection from the abuse. Because they’d ripped most of his armor off months ago, and left him with only a few remaining shreds. Just like his dignity. Con after con had raped him and beaten him, enjoying his pain as if it was some kind of sick foreplay or something. And when they weren’t physically torturing him, they had fun with mental torture. For all around his cell, were pieces of one of his friend’s armor…

That was the worse part of all this. Looking up at those bright yellow armor plates, and remembering the cheerful yellow mech they’d once been part of. Yes, it’d been several orbit cycles before Cliffjumper’s own capture, since Bumblebee had disappeared. And the Autobots had always feared the worse. Now, facing his own life of torture and eventual deactivation, the little red mech had silently stared up at the remnants of his dead friend, and sobbed. Not for himself, but for the fact that little Bumblebee had had to endure this same agony until he’d finally been off lined. The yellow mech had been such a gentle, happy character – he hadn’t deserved that!

Starscream grabbed him by his throat and slammed him against the wall again. “So are you going to beg like your miniscule yellow friend did? Beg for me to take you fast and to get it over with? Beg, you pathetic Autobot – beg!” the red Seeker shrieked. Pressing his air frame against the smaller mech, the red Seeker took his lips roughly. Hitting him repeatedly in his raw circuits on his abdomen until Cliffjumper finally opened his mouth to gasp. Starscream’s glossa invaded, taking over, probing – even as the Autobot’s lips bled from the roughness of the kiss.

Cliffjumper gagged, trying desperately to close his jaws. To keep the Seeker out! But the force of Starscream’s jaws against his; locked them open. Thus, the con could keep up his invasion, his domination. Just as his fiery spark would when he raped the small mech again. The Autobot could feel the terrifying pulse of that Seeker’s vicious spark against the red fuselage. Only the thin metal kept it from penetrating his bare circuits, right then and there.

As he controlled the Autobot’s lips, Starscream’s fingers dug into his naked circuits. Probing and twisting; causing bolts of fresh agony to shoot through the smaller mech. As he felt the smaller mech writhe from the waves of pain, the Seeker felt the satisfaction of domination roll through him. Forcing his leg in between the smaller mech’s, he forced Cliffjumper to spread his. The naked mech tensed as his most sensitive arrays were pressed hard against Starscream’s latched codpiece. His reaction only made it that much more pleasurable for the red Seeker. Finally, Starscream let loose of his lips – punching him in the face as he did so.

“Eat slag,” Cliffjumper whispered; his hoarse voice barely audible. He spit the energon from his mouth, willing himself to boldly meet the Seeker’s optics. He wasn’t going to give the slogger any satisfaction. Even if it meant another two hours of torture before the piece of slag finally raped him again and was done with it.

The Seeker threw him across the cell, enraged that the little mech still showed no fear. He grinned with pleasure as he heard the mech groan while he slid to the floor again. “You know what you little rust bucket? I’ve got a fun game you might like.” With that he grabbed the barely conscious little mech and threw him over his shoulder. “We’re going to see just how many times a pathetic Autobot can bond in a single night. I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable.”

Too weak to fight, Cliffjumper’s core sunk in despair as the tall Seeker carried him into the rec area of the Decepticon ship. He was thrown on the ground as Starscream made a bet with Swindle on just how much rape he could take. As the Decepticons all placed their bets, the Autobot dared to lift his head and look around. Terror shot through him, as the red optics of two dozen cons looked back. Trying to bury his face into the ground, Cliffjumper gulped his fear down. He couldn’t let these bastards see how terrified he was, he couldn’t give them that satisfaction!

The bets were all in. Swindle grabbed the little mech and picked him up. Throwing him face down over a bench, the mech forced him to stand bent over it. Cliffjumper had no choice, for now Swindle sat on his shoulders, holding him down tightly to the bench. The Combaticon snickering as he considered the profits he was sure to make.

“Let’s have a little more fun,” Thundercracker snickered. Going around to the other side of the bench, he unlatched his codpiece in front of Cliffjumper’s faceplate. “I hear you’ve got talent with your glossa,” he taunted the small mech.

“Go frag yourself,” Cliffjumper said as he willed himself to act defiant… To not give the cons what they wanted.. To not beg.. He gagged as the blue Seeker forced fingers into his mouth, forcing it open.. His optics got big in revulsion as Thundercracker forced his bonding cables in his mouth. Extending them fully.. He tried to shut his jaws.. Deny what he was being forced to do.

“Ah, that’s good Autobot, keep those jaws tight..” Thundercracker crooned as he rocked his hips while he held the Autobot’s head still. His cables sliding in and out slightly… The Autobot’s glossa and throat units feeling so good and tight on his cables…

Nausea filled his core as Cliffjumper felt the cables sliding in his throat.. Over his glossa.. This was just so vile.. So wrong.. He heard the cons gathered round him, joking and laughing about how good his glossa must be.. He wanted to jump up.. Kick their tailpipes.. Deny what he was being forced to do. Then he jerked as he felt hands on his aft. Fingers sliding under his codpiece.. Ripping it off..

Agony ripped through him as someone stuck a roboprod deep into him.. His networks lighting up in searing agony… He writhed under Swindle, even as Thundercracker continued to use his mouth for his own pleasure. He felt lubrication fill his mouth as the blue Seeker released it. The con arching his hips against his face, forcing his bonding cables deep down his throat.

Then the roboprod was removed and fingers sunk into his aft. Hearing the first Decepticon unlatching their codpiece, Cliffjumper tensed as the circuits slid deeply into his….

------

“These pathetic Autobots just don’t last very long do they?” Vortex griped as they dragged the barely functioning mech out of the ship.

Brawl snorted, he’d enjoyed winning on that bet about the Autobot handling multiple rapes. He’d been a little surprised that it’d taken eighteen rapes before the bot totally shut down. He grinned at the memory of the stubborn little mech finally starting to beg and scream for them to stop at number twelve. That’d just made the cons even more eager to thrust their circuits into him. He finally shut up after 4 more, and then stopped whimpering after the next one. By number eighteen, he was unresponsive. Granted that had been eight astrodays ago; and the damned mech hadn’t revived. So the game had pretty much off lined him. Oh well, what else were Autobots good for?

“Well, into the dump for another one. Just like the last freagin’ slogger,” Vortex snickered. He casually picked up the limp, naked mech and decided to see how far over the cliff he could toss him.

Before he did that, Brawl stopped him. Glaring at his fellow Combaticon, Vortex was just about ready to throw the useless Autobot on the ground and take a swing at the con. But then Brawl snickered. Nodding to the front of the ship, his optics locked with Vortex’s. “You know what, it’d be kind’ve interesting to see the Autobots’ faces when they face us in battle and we’ve got one of their dead strapped to the front of the ship.”

An evil grin spread over Vortex’s face. Yes, he could picture that in his meta – and it was such a sweet vision – he could almost taste it! For once, Brawl had come up with a highly entertaining idea. And they both knew that Megatron and Starscream would find it equally as entertaining. They might even get a compliment at their ingenuity.

“You got some straps?” Vortex asked. The evil gleam in his optics got even brighter.

Brawl nodded, “Got some tie-downs that should work.” He snickered as he picked up the limp body. Most of the unconscious mech’s armor was either gone or in shreds, but the armor bearing his Autobot insignia was still intact. Yep, the Autobots would definitely realize who the dead mech was. Probably put them in a state of shock, making it even easier to kick their tailpipes. Granted, the mech wasn’t quite dead yet. But that was a mere technicality, for it wouldn’t take much longer before he was.

Vortex hovered up along the front of the ship. “Toss me a strap,” he called down to Brawl.

With his free arm, the big Combaticon tossed his comrade a strap. Working reasonably well together, they soon had their ‘decoration’ tied to the front fuselage of their ship. Standing back, both mechs snickered in satisfaction of their work.

They continued to snicker and insult each other as they went back into the con ship.

Now nothing but a ‘decoration’, Cliffjumper’s optics reactivated slightly, he could feel the tightness of the straps that ran across him. The agony from their press against his raw and damaged circuitry caused him to briefly reactivate. But his primary programming was now so fragmented due to the string of multiple rapes, and con sparks flooding through his fallen firewalls – that multiple glitches caused his systems to begin a collapsing series. He shut down again as his protective default programs forced him too.

----

Bumblebee was one of the spotters this time. He felt proud that he could now poke his head out of the tunnels, and actually watch the Seekers without the panic attacks. Looking around, he realized that the cons didn’t seem to be interested in playing target practice on this trip. They were busily loading materials and supplies.

Sighing, he knew that it could still be days that they would remain. And the garbage mechs didn’t dare come out of hiding until they left. Especially since the cons had landed their ship on the ridge overlooking the landfill. They did this to make dumping their refuse cheap and easy, since they could simply cart it out and dump it over the side of the ridge. A heavy feeling spread from his core, for once he had been some of that ‘waste’ that they had dumped.

Daring to look up at the ridge, Bumblebee’s optics settled on the ship. It was a standard model, with plenty of armament and shielding to patrol the quadrant with little fear of destruction. It was painted the same non-descript gray that most con ships were, which made it easier to blend into asteroid belts when they decided to ambush Autobot cruisers. But then something caught his optics. Something red and out-of-place was on the front of the ship. Focusing his sharp optics, he brought the oddity into close-up.

His core sank into the deepest of depths when he realized that the cons had an almost naked Autobot strapped to the front of their ship! Watching the bot, he saw him lift his head for the briefest of moments. Those blue optics half-activated. Then the mech went limp again in shutdown. But that brief glimpse of his face tore through Bumblebee’s networks. For he had recognized the Autobot, it was his old friend Cliffjumper.
Trembling in both rage and fear, Bumblebee lowered himself back into the safety of the tunnel. Sinking down to his knees, he put his head in his hands and sobbed. He knew that the only right thing to do was to try and rescue Cliffjumper. But Bumblebee was only one small, unarmed mech. And there was a very good chance he’d get caught. But could he live with himself if he didn’t at least try?!? After all the times that the little red mech had saved his aft, he owed the mech at least that.

But what if he was successful in rescuing Cliffjumper? He wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that the mech was an Autobot, for that was obvious by the little bit of armor that was still on the mech. And once Cliffjumper was repaired enough to talk – there’s no way he’d hide the fact that he was a proud Autobot. Bee shuddered, for he’d never convince Cliffjumper not to say that he was also an Autobot. And then Droct might hate him. Might turn his back on him and tell him never to come around again.

His spark felt like it was being ripped in two. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that by doing it – he’d possibly lose the most important mech in his whole life! But he had to try and rescue his old friend, for he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

Lost in his thoughts, the sobbing mech didn’t hear the sound of another garbage mech crawling up from the tunnel’s depths. The feel of a gentle hand squeezing his shoulder armor, brought him back to reality.

“What’s wrong Bee? Did you have a panic attack?” Droct’s concerned voice asked. His blue optics were filled with concern as he pulled the upset mech against his chest. He kissed the top of the yellow helm as he surrounded him protectively with his arms.

“No,” Bee sobbed. He lifted his optics to meet Droct’s, his lip trembled in emotion. He didn’t want to tell Droct, he wanted his past to go away! But he had to help Cliffjumper, and he couldn’t do it alone. But how could he ask the gentle mech to put himself in that kind’ve danger?

Droct petted the side of his helm, his comforting touch causing a tightness to build in Bee’s core. “So what’s got you so upset?” he asked softly.

Bee couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he merely pointed up toward the surface. In the direction of the con ship, his finger trembled.

Giving Bee a rather curious glance, Droct crawled past him. Poking his head up, he looked toward the ship. Studying it intensely, he noticed the same thing that Bee noticed. But he also saw the Autobot symbols on the limp mech. His core sank, for he knew that it wasn’t right for any mech to be tortured like that – but it was an Autobot. And he really didn’t have much love for that particular faction.

Coming back down, he sat down heavily next to Bee. He knew the yellow mech had worked for that faction, and probably knew the unconscious mech. That’s probably why he was so upset. But they were both small mechs and unarmed, so there was nothing they could do to help the mech. Putting his arm over his friend, Droct pulled him to his side. “You know him, don’t you? And it’s hard to see him off lined this way,” he said softly.

Bee stiffened, “I can’t let him deactivate that way, Droct. I can’t!” he answered.

“But what can we do? It’s just two of us little mechs against all of those Decepticons, and we don’t even have guns.” Droct shrugged, he could see no way to help the mech.

“Will you help me, even though it’s an Autobot?” Bee asked. He prayed Droct would say yes, so maybe he’d be able to forgive Bee when he found out that Bee was an Autobot too.

Droct sighed, remembering the last time he’d been near that faction. The agony of being burned alive, of knowing that they didn’t care who stood in their way…. He shook himself back into reality, knowing that the little half-deactivated mech was probably not one of the ones who had done this to him. So could he blame the slogger for the others actions? Could he stand by and let the mech die in such a painful way? Looking into his friend’s pleading optics, he knew he had to push his feelings aside and try an help the mech. It was the only right thing to do.

“You know how I feel about them Bee. Does he really mean that much to you?” Droct asked. Bee knew how painful it was for him to even talk about Autobots. This mech had to be very important to Bee to even ask. And if Bee insisted, Droct would help. He’d do anything his bond mate asked, wouldn’t he?

Bee’s lip trembled. “He saved my aft once, Droct. I owe him.” He prayed Droct would say yes. To help him, and maybe to forgive him when he found out the truth of Bee’s past. Primus, he wished his past would just go away! But now it was here, staring at him from the front of that con ship.

Studying his lover, Droct felt his core plummet. This freagin’ Autobot had saved him once. So they had to try and return the favor. Gulping down his contempt at helping an Autobot, Droct nodded to Bee. “I guess I’ll help, but what can we do?” Droct said softly.

Now that he had a friend to help him, Bumblebee began to try and think of a plan…He pushed his fears about the future of possibly losing Droct aside….He had to do what was right..

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Beauty Within