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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 6356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers/Hasbro, Am not making a dime off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A.o.M. part 1
- 2-A.o.M. 2
- 3-A.o.M 3
- 4-A.oM.4
- 5-AoM 5
- 6-AoM 6
- 7-AoM 7
- 8-AoM 8
- 9-AoM 8-1/2
- 10-AoM 9
- 11-AoM 10
- 12-AoM 11
- 13-AoM 12
- 14-Once upon a time
- 15-AoM 13
- 16-AoM 14
- 17-AoM 15
- 18-AoM 16
- 19-AoM 17
- 20-Family Ties
- 21-AoM 18
- 22-Family Ties Pt 2
- 23-AoM19
- 24-Family Ties Pt 3
- 25-AoM 20
- 26-Family Ties Pt 4
- 27-AoM 21
- 28-AOM 22
- 22
- 23
- 24
** Age of the Machine part 19**

*Written by StSE: Universes G1, BW, TFA*

Note to ToonQueen: Wandering Army Ranger Team consists of: Sergeant Dave, Scott (the ‘perv’), Sebastian (Steeljaw), Mike (the comedian), Tim (eggs everyone on), Matt (nice guy), Reject (Eject), Colt (Megatron ‘lead clone’), 3 Shockwaves, Magnum (Megatron – SIC clone), Dunce (Frenzy), Spade (Rumble), 1 Laserbeak (Owl), 1 Buzzsaw (Polly), Gem (Ravage)

Brief overview: Mixed Unit led by Daniel/Charge/Scream is on the Tn side of the Mississippi River. They ‘rescued’ a group of women who were unwillingly held by the ‘townsmen’ – after the clones that the townsmen had driven away were found by the Mixed Unit (the Opie rescue scene a few chapters ago). You will see these new members as side characters with brief parts. Other side characters are the ‘changling’ clones whom Opie rescued through the spark realm…

Infected clone are led by our old nemeses Tron, and have taken over the abandoned city of Little Rock, Arkansas. Roving bands of ‘hunters’ cross the Mississippi river in search of more sparked clones to enslave.

Now, back to the story…….

------

Section 1: Alliances

Unit temporary camp at the warehouse, day after Bond commits to Opie/Jag

--------

“They’ve been demanding to see the full Optimus model,” Drew explained with a bemused shrug. The former Navy Seal gave Opie one of his wry smiles, his crowfeet wrinkling up in humor.

“Me?” Still sitting on the couch next to Bond in the common area of their home trailer, Opie looked up at the man in disbelief. How had the changlings even known he was here? Why’d they want HIM of all clones?!? He was nobody special. “Ouch!”

Bond chuckled deep in his cockpit as he elbowed the clone a tad too hard. “There are no others, hmmmm?” he noted with sarcasm. While he respected what he knew this Prime clone would one day become – what he was currently was rather young and imperfect; which actually made him yet that much more desirable as his future leader. Bond would be able to help mold him into the leader HE wanted.

Giving his flight partner a disgusted snort while he rubbed away the sting, Opie conceded that he’d made a stupid statement. Of course it was he that they were asking for – duh… Slowly getting to his peds, he swayed slightly…

In a fluid motion, Bond stood up with his partner and steadied him with a supportive arm. “Opie is still weak in spark,” he explained.

Hemi moved to the other side of Opie, offering his strength as well. Like the Cyclonus changling, the MotorMaster clone was a few inches taller than most models. His broad black frame was powerful and more than able to carry two Optimus clones if he so desired. He had to be strong in order to be the structure of the combiner clone his team created. “So the rumor is true then. You travel freely amongst the dead.”

“Yeah,” Opie grinned sheepishly, “but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He could hear the ghostly echo of two particular Autobot medic ghost sparks snickering in agreement. Deciding it’d be better to ignore them for now, he leaned on his friends as he took an unsteady step forward. “I’m not supposed to move around much, you sure Jag won’t get ticked?”

Patting the weak clone on his shoulder armor, Drew chuckled. “He’s far too busy managing the search parties – and if he finds out, just tell him that I ordered you to come.”

Knowing the old soldier could more than handle Jag’s displeasure, Opie gave him a nod. Then worry hit him hard again…. “So they’re still missing?” he asked.

“Yeah, no sign of them yet.”

“How’s Scream handling it?” Opie’s thoughts couldn’t help but drift to his love.

Drew paused in his steps and studied the young Prime. It was now common knowledge that there had been a love triangle going on between him and Scream. A love triangle that must’ve pushed Charge over the edge…. “He’s more flustered about Rhinox’s crying – than his official mates disappearing; which is a damn shame if you ask me!”

Those harsh words caused an immediate change in Opie’s demeanor. His optics dulled in shame and he stared down at his shuffling peds. “I didn’t mean to..” he mumbled.

Straightening his wings, Bond squeezed Opie’s side as he gave Drew a stern glare. He had to teach this young Prime to stand up for himself! “It takes two to tango. If I do so recall it was the senior officer who actively pursued a timid recruit!”

The man glanced from the Cyclonus clone to the now-straightening Opie and back. Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge. “Point well-made. It’s still a damn shame though.” He turned and began to lead them again.

Sniffing a touch, Opie looked up at his flight partner, his optics brightening again.

“Do not take insults that are unwarranted. You must learn to defend yourself in a firm yet diplomatic manner,” Bond whispered to him.

“Thanks Bond,” he whispered back.

Bond’s engine warmed at the thanks. Deep down inside he seemed to long for this. A longing to have a leader that appreciated him, learned from him, respected him… He shared a smile with the Prime clone as he contemplated upon those deep emotions. He had not experienced them when he was a Skywarp model, even before the accident which had left him fragmented. Perhaps these needs came directly from the Cyclonus programming that Opie had downloaded into him?

That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. He stopped in his tracks, which in turn stopped all of them. His red optics full of thought…. Perhaps even worry….

“What’s wrong Bond?” Hemi asked, peering over Opie’s helm.

“A thought has occurred to me,” the flyer replied.

“And that would be?” Opie prodded. Seeing the expression on his partner’s face plate now made him worried as well.

Bond scanned his systems, his capabilities. His worry subsided. His systems still indicated that he could warp. “For a moment I worried that I had lost the capability to warp.”

“Did you?” Drew cocked his head, his own eyes full of worry. He and Daniel had begun to make strategic plans based on having so many new Cyclonus clones. Those plans were all hinging on the assumption that they all still had warp capability.

Moving swiftly, the flyer turned and wrapped his arms around Opie. “Let us see…” his deep voice said as he and the Prime clone blinked out.

“Shit! Hope we find them in the changling hold trailer!” Drew turned and began to jog in that direction, Hemi hot on his heels.

------

His servos felt wobbly as the ground became solid underneath him again. Blinking his optic covers, he shook himself off a bit before shooting Bond a grin. “Warn me next time.”

The purple-gray air frame shook with the flyer’s deep chuckle. “I remember when you were the one telling ME not to fear warp.”

“Yeah, but I was ready then,” Opie leaned against his flight partner as he slowly scanned the interior of the trailer they’d teleported into. Dozens of pairs of blue and red optics stared back at him.

“He, he, an even trade off,” the Cyclonus clone chuckled. His optics fell onto a pair of matching clones who were lounging on one of the couches together. Considering the fact that Dante was hovering possessively next to one – and Tune on the other – he could easily guess which one was Glock. “A very – impressive – change of chassis.”

A rather arrogant smirk crossed Glock’s face plate at the compliment. Shaking Dante’s hands off of his shoulder, he stood up and strode over to the pair, making a show of looking Bond’s new chassis over as well. “Indeed, as is your own change, yes…” Wrapping a supportive arm around the unsteady Optimus clone, he ignored Dante’s jealous glare as he helped Bond guide the clone to the couch. “You have overstressed your spark my partner, yes?”

Opie shrugged helplessly as he settled down between Dante and the new recruit who was a twin to Glock. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Hmmm, Jag has charged me with educating our partner in the art of considering strategy before taking action,” Bond informed Glock. He gave the pouting Dante a rather disgusted look. The Seeker was too fixated on Glock for any good to come of it. “And I am now Opie’s permanent flight partner.”

“Good, I was getting sick of it anyways!” The Starscream clone snorted.

Deciding it would be fun to pick on the temperamental Seeker, Opie threw himself across his lap, his optics full of false tears. “No! You don’t love me anymore! After all this time…After all we’ve been through together...” He threw his hands over his hood and pretended to sob.

Glock, Dante and Bond cuffed him for his little act. Sitting up with a few ‘ouches’ and ‘stop thats’ – Opie grinned as all three of them rolled their optics. “You clones are too damn serious for your own good,” he snickered.

Glock leaned over him menacingly and poked him in his hood. “No, it is YOU who aren’t serious enough, yeeessss.”

“Indeed, you are our only Optimus clone now. You should act the part.” Bond cocked his helm as he spoke, seemingly more like the leader between them – than the follower.

“No I’m not. Charge is….”

“Charge has turned up missing and I -” Bond met Glock’s optics “-WE suspect that he may not return.”

The Galvatron clone who was leaning over Opie reached up and gripped the clone’s chin. “So it is your time – our time – yes,” he purred.

Opie was about to answer, but then many voices drowned out their conversation. The changlings he had rescued pushed Glock and Bond aside. They surrounded him. Their optics and metas full of confusion. Their former owners had abandoned them when they had begun the change. Abandoned them simply because they did not understand what was going on, couldn’t have given them the life support they had needed even if they’d wanted to. The changlings were frightened of their new reality – their new lives. And in their metas they had decided that the one clone who’d cared enough to come for them – was their only true protector… Their only friend…

There was only one changling who didn’t think this way. Yes, he respected Opie for the strength he knew the Prime clone had within him – but adore him? Need him? No, so very no… Galvatron clones didn’t need emotional coddling, far from it. They avoided it at all costs. Freeing himself of the press, he helped Dante escape it as well. They took their places next to Glock and Bond as they leaned against the far wall and watched Opie as he fawned over each and every changling. “He is who they adore,” Stun noted.

Glock nodded his agreement, his red optics narrowing, full of calculation… “We must develop him to his potential, yes.”

“Agreed, with his strength and compassion – combined with our superior strategic abilities…” the other Galvatron clone smirked as he met Glock’s optics, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“We will build an invincible Nation, yes…” he nodded his approval of his fellow Galvatron model. Unlike the real mech, many of his clones found it natural to fall into mutually beneficial partnerships like this. They had the savvy and the ambition to lead – whether it was themselves at the helm – or a figurehead they picked and trained.

“When he is mature – he shall be magnificent!” Bond whispered, his red optics gleaming.

Glock chuckled as he glanced at the powerful flyer next to him. For some reason he felt a slight pang of jealousy as he saw the blind loyalty in those orbs. It was as if HE should be the focus of that loyalty – not an Optimus clone. He shook those strange feelings away, for it did not matter in the long run. Glock would be the brains behind the Prime. He would mold him, shape him… Create the clones’ first true Prime leader. Though a thought flitted through his RAM… Something he needed to know about the new changlings. Were they identical to their mechs – or a blend of old and new abilities? “You still maintain the capability of warp, yes?”

Bond nodded, his optics still locked on his chosen flight partner. Waves of warmth washed over his circuits each time Opie pulled another confused changling into his lap; stroking trembling frames and soothing their fears with whispered words. In a sense, Opie was already a leader amongst them. He led without even realizing it. For a leader first must build up the confidence in his men and prove that he would give his own life for theirs. The stern looking Cyclonus clone found himself smiling warmly as he met Opie’s brilliant blue spheres for a brief second. He loved him. Loved him as a dedicated follower already…

Stun tapped Glock, his calculating optics taking in every detail. “This Optimus clone doesn’t realize his effect on others. Does not understand the power he holds,” he whispered, his meta going along the same lines as Glock’s about the future political atmosphere they could create through tact.

“Indeed, no,” Glock smugly replied. He met his twin’s optics. “And if the Cyclonus clones have not lost their warp ability – then what differences do we have from our mech, hmmmm?”

Stepping aside, Stun nodded as he held out his hands. “Transform brother; let us see what our alt modes are.”

Jumping up, Glock flipped backwards in an arc as he transformed in a blur. His fellow model reached his hands out, catching him as he fell.

Turning Glock over in his hands, Stun rubbed the weapon with admiring hands. Instead of a self-standing cannon like Galvatron-the-mech, the changling clone had transformed into a portable surface-to-air laser cannon with the accuracy of a top sniper gun and an unbelievable range. Stun hefted him to his shoulder armor, enjoying the supreme balance and feel of the new alt mode. “Niiiiicccceeee,” he purred.

“He’s MINE!” Dante growled and grabbed his lover out of Stun’s hands. He didn’t like any clone rubbing his clone’s frame like that! Even if that clone was simply showing his appreciation of Glock’s power….

Stun chuckled under his breath at the Starscream clone’s behavior. So pathetic… Lifting his optics, he smiled as he noticed Tune had managed to extract himself from the throng surrounding Opie. The quiet clone made his way towards him, and without a word, took his place next to him. The recruit gave him the slightest nod of approval as he shifted so that their armor rubbed. Yes, Tune was what a politically meta’d clone needed in a mate. He was loyal, obedient, and kept his emotions to himself.

Tune’s engine revved a bit as he felt digits surround his. Flushing beneath his mask, he said not a word. The unspoken acceptance of him as the changling’s partner was enough. No words were needed..

Unseen by the multitudes of clones in the trailer, a translucent clone-sized mech spark pulled his fist back from it’s aim at Stun’s helm as the clone did nothing more than chuckle at Dante’s show of possessiveness. In this world it seemed Starscream models had equal or even more power than Galvatron models. A situation that the ghost spark felt was how it should’ve always been. So here, he would not destroy those models – providing they were submissive to his own. Pulling his arm back to himself, the rage in the spark’s dark optics lessened – though his hatred towards Galvatron-the-mech never would. He swore it never would!

Turning his attention back to the Optimus clone he had sought out, he watched as Opie turned each changling’s confusion to calm. Envy washed over him as he saw more of the real mech in the clone now than when he had first run across him. THIS was how Prime should’ve been! He should have been a mech so confidant in his own sexuality that he wasn’t threatened by showing his emotions to other mechs. Grinding his dentals together, Starscream dug his digits into his own side as he again felt the pain of his former life.

Comforting the final changling, Opie patted the Rodimus clone’s leg armor as he nodded for him to sit next to him. Sensing the presence of a familiar spark, he looked up and met Starscream’s brooding orbs. Holding his hand out, he motioned for the ghost to sit in his lap – without making the motion obvious to the living. In fact, his conversation with several changlings whom surrounded him never stopped.

Taking the hint, the ghost floated over. Draping himself across Opie’s lap, he pressed himself tightly against the clone’s spark, his legs settling right through the changling’s armor who sat next to the Prime look-a-like. Relaxing so that he could enjoy the feel of a living spark pulse, a frown soon crossed his face plate as he felt how weak the clone’s spark truly was.

“Yeah, we warned him not to push himself through the spark realm,” Wheeljack’s voice echoed from the wall.

“He’s too much like his mech. Be the death of him I tell you!” Ratchet tersely replied as he poked his translucent head out of the opposite wall.

Starscream glared at the two Autobot sparks, not exactly pleased to see either of them.

The inventor spark snickered as he slid out of the metal. “Still can’t relax? Geese, get over it. We’re all dead – so none of us won.”

Shifting in Opie’s lap, Starscream crossed his arms as he glared at his former foes. “YOU Autobots may not have won – but I, Starscream, shall one day sit in the throne of glory!”

Ratchet couldn’t help but roll his black optics. “You never change do you Starscream?”

Opie continued his conversation with the living, even as he paid attention to the conversation amongst the dead. Without the living noticing it, he rubbed the Seeker ghost’s leg and said ‘shhhhh’ under his breath.

“A warrior as great as I should never change!” Starscream snorted as he looked down his olfactory sensor at the ghost medic. “But it seems MY clone has.”

“Your clone? When’d ya get that stupid idea?” Wheeljack snickered.

The deceased Air Commander turned his helm and gave Opie’s cheek a kiss, before turning to smirk at the inventor. “This is MY Optimus clone – to enjoy as I wish. When I wish.”

That statement got Opie a tad worried. /I am free later, Air Commander. Then we will not have to deal with these recruits observing us/ he comlinked towards the ghost.

Turning to Opie, Starscream frowned for a moment. For a moment he considered taking the clone without his consent, yet something in Opie’s blue optics… The weakness in the clone’s spark… Made him reconsider his selfish wants… “Bah! You are too spark weak for my tastes right now pathetic clone.” With that, he disappeared.

Opie looked up at Wheeljack with confusion in his optics. He hadn’t meant to insult Starscream.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it little Prime. Starscream has always been an unpredictable drama mech,” Wheeljack snickered before he too disappeared.

Ratchet sighed with a roll of his optics. “Be careful little Prime,” he consoled as he patted Opie’s shoulder. His arm went right through two other living clones. “Your spark is very weak; it’s not wise to share it right now.” Then, he too, disappeared into nothingness…

--------

“Anything yet?” Jag asked. The Prowl clone drummed his digits on the console as he waited for the search parties to report. This situation was not acceptable! Not acceptable in the least!

“/Nothing sir. No sign of them./” Clipper’s voice replied to him over the radio.

Drumming his digits even harder on the consol, Jag’s frown deepened. They’d been searching for the last two days – nothing!

“Hey Jag, take a break. I’ll man the com.” Sharon’s hand was light on his shoulder plate.

The tactician turned around, his optics dark and brooding. “I will not leave my post until they are located,” he replied in a curt tone.

Brushing her gray streaked hair out of her eyes, the woman sighed. “I know your model’s tendency towards hyperfocus – but there’s a bigger problem that needs to be seen to. And you’re the only one who can.”

“And that would be?” His blue optics narrowed; meta scanning through any possible problem that the woman could be referring to.

“Scream is a total wreck.” Sharon paused, a sad smile on her lips as she stroked the handsome clone’s gray cheek. “And you’re the only one who might be able to help him.”

Of course Scream would be a bloody wreck! He was beyond drama – and with his sparkling all tore up over Doc and Charge’s disappearance… Well, nothing more needed to be said. Jag sighed, looking back at the computer as he hesitated – torn between his duty as an officer and his duty as a wanna-be-back-mate.

Sliding up to him, Sharon wrapped her arms around him. “It’s ok. Doc and Charge would want you to keep Rhinox safe. They’d understand.”

Grinding his dentals together, the Prowl clone nodded. It was a logical argument, but didn’t make him feel any better. But like always, he didn’t really want to go that deep when it came to discussing his personal life. “Ok, I’ll leave you to the com. But I need to know something first.”

“That is?” Pulling her arms from him, the former professor turned to the computer screen.

“What is the situation with TC and Bond?”

She sighed and rolled her dark eyes. “Well, TC noticed the change in Bond’s behavior after he changed.”

“And?” he pressed. True, Bond had announced that he was only interested in pursuing an Optimus model – when they ran across some more in the future. But that wouldn’t exactly stop an overzealous Thundercracker clone from pursuing HIM. Flyer models were too driven by blind emotion for their own good.

“He felt attracted to him again. I guess he felt a little guilty about how he’d treated him after the accident.” She leaned against the desk and shook her head sadly.

Jag cocked his head, curious since Bond had not mentioned anything about TC apologizing to him. “Did they make up?”

Sharon shrugged, “Yes and no. TC tried – and Bond told him to go and slag himself.”

Sounds like something he’d expect of the new personality in the changling. Perhaps there was ONE Decepticon flyer model who wasn’t overly emotional now. It’d be a breath of fresh octane for the police clone, especially now that they had something like twenty of them now. “How did TC take the rejection?”

She gave an exacerbated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Seekers are such drama queens. He took it about as well as Scream’s took yours.”

“I’m sorry.” Indeed, the Prowl clone did feel a pang of empathy. He just hoped TC didn’t try and fly Sharon straight through the roof like Scream had almost done to Charge way back when.

“Never mind my issues, TC will get over it.” She grabbed the clone and turned him to face the door. “Now YOU need to get Scream to chill out!” she ordered with a small push.

------

Jag could hear him even before he saw him. And what he heard wasn’t good. Opening the family unit door as quietly as he could, he slid inside.

Scream paced back and forth, his optics blurred with tears. “I can’t believe they left us… left us…” he muttered under his breath as he walked.

Glancing around, the Prowl clone confirmed that little Rhinox was fast asleep in his crib. CC and Firestar moved about the small shared quarters, cleaning as they told Scream that the missing would be found, that it was some accident – not abandonment. The human member, Sandy, must be elsewhere – Jag noted - Most likely avoiding Scream’s drama….

“Scream? Are you ok?” he asked.

Spinning on his thrusters, the fech glared at him. “Ok?!? OK?!? HOW CAN I BE OK – WHEN MY BABY’S BEEN ABANDONED!!!!” he shrieked, then he broke down into sobs.

The two femmes gave Jag looks that clearly said ‘thanks for opening the can of shit again!’ before fleeing out the door. They moved so fast that the clone barely felt a breeze go by. For a brief moment he contemplated the tactical potential of this ability…

Scream’s next move broke Jag out of his thoughts. With great sobs, the fech collapsed in heap on the floor. Forgetting about the femmes, the Prowl clone knelt down next to him and wrapped his arms around the Seeker. He rocked him back and forth as he whispered soothing words of support… Promises that Rhinox would never being abandoned…

-------

Section 2: And then there’s femmes..

One hour later, still in the Mixed Unit. Still in Scream’s shared ‘family quarters’

-------

“Shhhhhhh now,” Jag cooed. Bending down, he kissed the top of Scream’s helm as he pulled the covers up around his frame. Whimpering in defrag, Scream wrapped his digits tightly around the stuffed animal in his arms. Jag had given it to him in place of the toddler – who was still fast asleep in his crib across the room. The organomech was amazing in his ability to maintain sleep right through one of his ‘mother’s’ emotional meltdowns.

“Did you finally calm him down?” Sandy asked from the door as she rather cautiously opened the door. Behind her, two femme clones fidgeted.

“Yes, he’s calmed.” Standing up, Jag’s optic ridges arched up as the two femmes slid under the covers on either side of the now-still Seeker – without so much as even touching the police clone. “How do they do that?”

Sandy shrugged as she closed the door behind her. “You’ll get used to it if you hang around them enough.” Opening her small clothing chest, the young woman pulled out her night clothes.

“Hmmm, I could think of some tactical methods that could be improved upon with such talents,” Jag commented. He turned and looked back at the pair of femmes. Both of whom had already shut down in defrag next to Scream.

“Yeah, knowing you – you could,” Sandy snickered. Pulling her top off, she turned her back to the quiet clone. “Would you?”

Understanding that she needed him to unlatch her bra, the Prowl clone unsnapped it with a simple twist of his digits. “He’s settled in well with you femmes,” he observed. Picking up the clothes she’d just thrown down, he began to fold them.

“Yeah, well you know – he might as well be one of us,” Sandy giggled. With her hands behind her head, she started to rebraid her long hair. It was kind’ve funny to run around topless in front of such a masculine-type clone – and not think anything of it.

“Let me help you.” As the woman turned around, Jag’s deft digits rebraided her hair in record time. “Keep your eye on him right now. I’ll check on him when I can.”

Turning around, Sandy stopped the clone from leaving. Her eyes searched his blue optics as she held his arms. “We’ll find them – right?”

Looking down at the half-naked woman, Jag couldn’t bear to lie. It just wasn’t in his programming. “I cannot guarantee that. In fact, we have no idea where they are at this time.”

Circling the strong clone with her arms, the young woman pressed against him. “Please find him Jag. Scream will go nuts if he thinks Rhinox has been abandoned for good!”

Holding her tightly to him, Jag stroked her hair. “Don’t worry, Rhinox will never be abandoned. I’ll make sure of that.”

“How Jag? Without Charge and Doc, he has no fathers!” Tears filled her eyes. Though she had merely agreed to be the infant organomech’s milk maid – she’d become attached to him. In fact, she loved him as if he was truly hers.

Breathing in deeply, Jag kissed the top of her head as he whispered the same promise he’d given to Scream. “Opie and I will adopt him. But…”

“But what?”

“Can I ask a favor of you?” Jag whispered. True, Sandy wasn’t the human that Opie had been thinking of when they discussed future marital arrangements – but she was Scream’s best human friend. It might be the best partnership.

“What would that be?” she asked as she looked up into his optics.

“Well, you’ve heard about the new marital guidelines?”

“Yes.”

“And you know Scream and I have been discussing getting back together?”

“U-huh. What are you getting at Jag?”

“Well,” Jag searched for just the right way to phrase it. Deciding that bluntness might be the best – he went for it. “Since I’m already mated to an Eve, and Scream is not only an Eve but a Seeker as well – I was wondering if you and the femmes would agree to partner in a future marriage with Bond, Opie, Scream and I?”

Sandy pulled back from him and studied his optics. “No, um,” she searched for the right way to say it as she motioned between the two of them.

“Intercourse between partner groups in marriages is not mandatory. We non-eve clones agree to protect all offspring – human, organomech or fresh sparked clones. You as the human partner would agree to help create precursors, provide milk for any organomech offspring…”

She finished the list of responsibilities for him “…and get eventually get pregnant by insemination by some donor.”

“Donor of your choice, yes.”

Sandy strolled around Jag, looking him up and down. “And you’d give your word to raise my child as yours – as well?”

He nodded, his optics tracking her every move. She was a beautiful human. It was a pity that she had no interest in males – either human or clone.

“And you speak for Bond as well? Wasn’t he one of those changlings?” She ran her finger along his armor, admiring him. Not out of any desire by any means.

“He has already promised himself as a partner in the marriage, and yes, he is a Cyclonus model now.” Jag fought his instinctive urge to shiver at the human’s light touch.

“Those are those ones with the pointy helms and really deep voices aren’t they?” Seeing his shiver, Sandy smirked as she continued driving him crazy. It was like teasing a man – but without the worry about having to put out.

Again he nodded, his meta still fighting against sensors. He could see the amusement in the woman’s eyes; she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “They are a model known for extreme loyalty.” He paused for a moment before grabbing her hand and stopping the light touch torture of his sensory nets. “I must ask that you refrain from your teasing. Your sexual preferences are well documented.”

Lightheartedly pouting, she twisted out of his grasp. “I’m not teasing you – I’m tickling you. And there’s no sexual teasing intended.” She went back to her tickling, attacking his door wings with gusto.

“I’m unsure… of…” He twisted, trying to get out of the giggling half-naked woman’s grasp without touching her. “How to… respond…” His sensory nets were going wild. Pleasure programs urging him to respond to a human’s interest, yet she claimed no sexual intent. Confusion raked his meta processor as he fell back onto the floor.

Pouncing on top of him, Sandy’s giggles increased as the clone tried to bat her tickling fingers away from his chassis. Finally, she stopped, collapsing on top of him in gasps of laughter.

Thankful that she’d finally stop the perplexing behavior, Jag finally relaxed. His motor humming lowly underneath her….

“Now, one thing you’re going to have to learn if you want me to agree to this marital partnership deal…” Sandy poked him in his olfactory sensor with every word, her eyes full of humor. “…Is that me and my femmes LOVE a good tickle fight!”

Jag was left to wonder if he’d chosen the right human partner……

-------

Section 3: Lessons in Pain

Location: Little Rock – AKA the infected clone metropolis

----

“You slagger’s finally hunted some down, now that’s a surprise,” the Cliffjumper clone snickered as he opened the main gate to the metropolis. His left hand kept shaking uncontrollably, in disgust he smacked his leg hard with it to try and knock the hydraulics out. It was almost his turn to feast on slave energy, which would straighten his systems out again. And with a few new ones, it would be a tasty off shift.

“Cut them off the traces,” MotorMaster IV snarled. With a swift kick he got the Bumblebee slave clone scrambling to do his bidding.

Refusing to groan in pain, Charge merely grunted as he fell to the ground face plate first as his bonds to the carry pole were cut. Struggling to his peds, he tried his best to kick out at his captors. His effort was in vain for the Ironhide model merely snickered and kicked his knee servo hard, bringing him down heavily onto his knee plates. Behind him, he heard his mate whimper in pain as the clang of metal on muddy pavement told of Doc’s ‘release’ from the pole.

“A l-l-lively o-o-ne mmmmm!” the Shockwave clone guard said, his vocals so full of static it was hard to decipher his words. “L-l-let m-m-me t-t-try a t-t-taste!” Grabbing the hybrid by his audio receptors, he began to force him back to his peds.

“He’s for the others! YOU must wait!” MotorMaster IV bellowed. He floored the Shockwave clone with a hard right hook.

Staggering back, Charge fell against Doc’s trembling frame. For a moment, they both felt a sense of relief. It was only a moment though – then they were being dragged forward by chains now wrapped tightly around their neck servos.

They were dragged through a city. A city fully infested with infected clones.
From all indications these clones were either at stage one or stage two. Brawls were common in the streets between the stage two clones. For this stage caused blind rages. Swift attacks of violence between long periods of calm…. Many times, captive sparked clones were the object of that violence. The brutality of the violence made both Doc and Charge cringe with each clang of fist against helpless armor.

Shock and horror filled Doc’s core as the infected clones dragged him within the front doors of a skyscraper. His knee linkages went limp as screams assailed his audios. Hitting the ground face plate first, he was yanked roughly back to his peds by his arms which were still tightly chained behind him. A whimper of pain and terror escaped his hidden lips as his shoulder servos responded to the unnatural backwards strain. “Ch-Charge…” he sobbed. For that low utterance, he was rewarded with a mighty backhand to his helm by his captors.

The hybrid growled as he heard the fear laden whisper and the follow up punch to his spark mate. Lunging forward, he literally pulled his own captors along for a brief moment. With his mouth free of the jaw restraint device, he tried to bite anything that came close enough to sink his dentals into. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” he bellowed. His bellows were swiftly turned to grunts as his bound form disappeared beneath a crowd of clones who proceeded to beat him mercilessly into near-unconsciousness.

Helpless to do anything but watch, the First Aid clone was held still. His optics forced to witness every punch, every kick, every drop of spilled oil. “Wh-why? W-we’ve done n-nothing to you…” he whimpered.

“Shut-up slave!” the clone on his left side snarled. He kicked Doc hard in his abdominal armor, snickering and insulting him as he crumpled to the ground. The clone was an Ironhide model – but where he’d once shown the proud Autobot insignia – he was now branded with the Decepticon mark.

Doc whimpered as he lifted his helm to look up at the infected clone. Moans assaulted his audios now; Moans that emanated not only from his once-proud mate – but from the other captive sparked clones that lined the walls of this large space. Glancing about, he cringed as he met the optics of them. So many different models… Both Decepticon and Autobot.. Their bound wrist servos locked to hooks imbedded in the ceiling. Each and every one had had their protective core armor panels ripped off. Their exposed sparks lit the interior of the building in a sickening macabre of pulsing blue/red glow.

Other access ports were also exposed on them. Power cables trailed from these terminals, connecting them to rows of car batteries secured to the wall behind them. The intention of these connections was obvious. They were tortured through electric shocks running chaotically through their unbuffered networks. This was the worst kind of torture a clone could endure.

“He, he, he, he, he – let’s have some fun!” the infected Jazz clone holding his other arm snickered. He too had been branded by the Decepticon insignia.

The Ironhide clone glanced at his cohort, a wicked smirk on his face plate. “I wanta see his face plate when he does it!” With a quick grab, he ripped Doc’s barely hanging on battlemask right off him.

Agony shot through the medic as sensitive linkages snapped within his helm. Going limp in their grasp, he again tried to beg for mercy, which only earned him a hard cuff to his unprotected face plate. They forced him forward, until he was nose-to-nose with a wreck of a Thundercracker clone.

The blue Seeker’s dull optics filled with tears. But he said nothing. He didn’t dare to say anything anymore. His exposed spark pulsed hard with terror, bathing the new captive in a red glow. His wings would’ve also been shaking – had they still been attached to his air frame. But they’d been ruthlessly ripped off of him long ago. Only tattered shreds of their connective housing remained.

Grabbing the struggling First Aid clone’s chest panel, the Jazz clone dug his digits into seems and ripped it open. He continued to yank and twist on the metal plate, cackling as Doc screamed in agony. The Ironhide clone kept the new slave on his peds through the ‘surgical’ removal of his protective core panel. This was how the slaves were discerned from the masters. This is how they were marked. As the blue glow washed over him, he reached around the gasping and pleading slave. His digits digging into the now exposed spark….

Doc’s optics rolled up into his helm as his spark was directly assaulted by the pair. His vocal processor heated up and finally failed him as he writhed in agony. The Jazz clone pressed his face plate against his chest, greedily biting and sucking on his spark as if he was eating it. The Ironhide clone’s digits were rough and uncaring as they clawed at it….

“Mmmmm, tasty…” the Jazz clone purred as he felt the fresh spark energy drown out the buzz of the viral program within him. It pushed the program back within its cocoon again, causing a sense of euphoria to flow over the clone. He tilted his head back, breathing in deeply as his cohort twirled the new slave around so that he could also taste the spark.

Plunging his face into the energy, the Ironhide clone gobbled up the spark elixir as eagerly as his fellow had. But he wasn’t satisfied with just a fill of spark energy. His hands went down along the white chassis, ripping and pulling on wires he could get to between seams of armored plating. The new slave writhed in agony at the double assault, his screams music to the infected clones whom enjoyed him. Finally, the spark energy drove the viral program back into hiding, and the Ironhide clone was satiated. He pulled away from the white clone’s bleeding spark chamber, biting at wires as he withdrew.

The Unit medic sagged in the Jazz clone’s arms, his sobbing now much weaker – as was his spark.

“He, he, he, let’s make em slag!” Jazz clone snickered. His visor brightened in amusement as the almost limp slave tensed at those words.

“Yeah, good idea!” the Ironhide model’s digits dug into the hinges of Doc’s codpiece. “Extend your fuckin’ cable, maximum pressure!” he barked at the medic clone.

“L-leave him alone!” Charge snarled. Weakly, he struggled to sit up, his optics turning from purple to red in rage. His effort was in vain, for he was swiftly assaulted by the crowd of infected clones around him again. This time, he was relieved of his battlemask and core panel armor. Muffled screams could be heard from the mass of writhing chassis which hid him again, as the infected clones enjoyed the flavor of his unspoiled spark energy.

“Pl – please! Make them stop! I’ll do what you want!” Doc pleaded weakly. Tears flowing freely down his bare face plate, he extended his cable and pressurized it to the max.

“You’ll always do what we want – slave!” With that, the Ironhide clone spun him, his hand wrapping around Doc’s cable. He forced him face-to-face with the dull-optic’d Thundercracker clone.

Without and ounce of resistance, the blue Seeker wrapped his legs around the medic clone’s waist, cringing in pain as his shoulder servos popped at the sudden strain… His port panels were already open, exposing him to accept the new slave’s cable – even though he produced no readying lubricant. But this didn’t matter. Interface was no longer a thing of pleasure, only pain now. Lifting his hips up, he felt their captors guide the taunt shaft to the entrance of his forward port. Without hesitation, he let gravity impale his dry port just as he took the new clone’s lips.

Doc’s scream matched the Seeker’s. Their locked lips muffling the sound…. His optics flew wide as his shaft sank deep into the unreadied port. The friction of the dry walls scraped his cable sensory nodes, causing agony to ripple through him. The tightness of the walls hugging him, making it even more painful….

The Thundercracker model’s glossa whipped out, desperation clear in his expression as he met Doc’s optics. Entwining their glossas, they both arched in agony at the joining. Their sparks pulsed so close that spark fields merged. Joining them just as tightly as the dry port now trapping the cable in painful captivity….

Having never spark merged with anyone other than Charge, Doc shuddered as his fellow captive’s raw emotions took over his processors. The raw pain of shredded wings and raw port blending with his own agony…. Reaching out, he tried to truly connect with the wreck. His need for consolation in this time of terror – equal to his urge to consol the injured. He was met with a brutal assault of total hopelessness from the other. Dull optics locked with his just as the spark’s ache rolled over him.

“Slag – you pieces of rusted steel!” Jazz clone snarled.

Lips pressing even more tightly, the Thundercracker wreck did as he was ordered. Using his locked wrists and wrapped legs, he began to move himself up and down against the medic clone whom was held still by the pair of infected clones. His port began to loosen a bit at the penetration… A trickle of lubricant released by depleted systems started to lessen the friction between them.

Doc shivered in revulsion as his systems began to respond to the ever increasing pleasure signals he was being forced to experience – that the other captive was being forced to give. He wanted to reach out to the blue Seeker, consol him, tell him that he would repair him, make it all better. All these things he tried to covey with the dance of his glossa, the beating of their combined sparks. Yet all he felt back was pity and hopelessness. The Seeker’s dull optics telling him to wish for death instead of life….

The medic was held still as he was forced to rape the Seeker – the Seeker forced to rape him. Tears streamed down their face plates, mixing together in the press of their chassis’ just as their sparks blended. Doc felt the overload building within him. Guilt washed over him as he heard his mate’s continued groans…

Overload turned to blistering agony as electricity burned through their combined systems. Doc’s lip burst into released energon as the Seeker convulsed against him, biting down on his lip. His port spasmed so tightly that any feeling of pleasure that Doc had begun to feel – was replaced by pain. Doc writhed, trying to break free of his handlers… Trying to disconnect his systems from the convulsing Seeker….

“Hey, turn it up Ironhide III – they like it!” Jazz clone snickered.

Leaning forward, Ironhide clone III continued to hold the writhing First Aid clone still while he used his other hand to turn up the voltage coursing through the worthless blue Seeker slave. He cackled as the screaming droned out those of the other captives.

That was the last Charge saw of his peaceful mate. Barely able to stand, he was hauled out of the lower floor. They threw him into the elevator, kicking him as he landed on their peds. Grunting for breath, Charge sank his dentals into one of their peds, a small sense of satisfaction washing over him as he heard pained curses – right before another one smashed down on his helm.

------

Section 4

Army Ranger temporary camp

------

“Good luck and God speed!” the group of men and clones yelled after Colt and the ‘birds’ as they lifted off and disappeared through the low cloud bank.

“Hope they think before they shoot,” Mike quipped as he and the others filed back into the house that had become their temporary shelter.

“Don’t worry, Colt will study the situation for a few hours before he decides the best one to approach. He’ll make sure to follow the most strategic route,” Magnum replied. His optics were hooded though, for he had hoped to have been included in the adventure. Never mind though, he was now in command of the clones in the team. If Colt did happen to make a mistake and get himself blown to smithereens – it would actually be an advantage to Magnum. He would be the lead clone permanently.

Dave glanced at the clone SIC, his eyes easily catching the emotions rolling across his face plate. Shaking his head a little, he wondered about Megatron clones. They could make such a tight team – but they never seemed bothered by the possibility of each other’s demise. They were only bothered by the prospect of their human partner’s demise. Was it true caring? Or was it that they’d lose what they considered theirs?

Scott didn’t worry about such indepth thoughts, walking by Magnum – his eyes fell upon the clone he was looking for. “Hey Dunce,” he said. With a nod of his head he silently indicated to the clone that he wanted him to follow him.

Giving his twin clone, Spade, one last shove, the Frenzy clone fell in behind the soldier. They walked into one of the bedrooms, the clone closing the door behind them.

Plopping his butt down on the bed, the man gave him a cocky smile. “Ready to learn some more bud?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dunce shifted from ped-to-ped nervously. It wasn’t that he didn’t relish being the man’s new-found center-or-attention, he did! It just felt weird, those sensations… weird…

Noticing the Frenzy clone’s anxiety, Scott patted the spot next to him. “Sit down for a bit, let’s talk.”

Brightening up, Dunce hopped onto the spot next to him. Talk? He liked to talk. Just no one ever wanted to hear what he had to say. “Yeah, what’s uuuuuppppp?” he quipped, imitating one of those old Budweiser commercials perfectly.

“You know, I was thinking” Scott began; he slid a hand onto Dunce’s without any ado.

Shivering at the friendly, yet unobtrusive touch, Dunce grinned happily as he wrapped his digits around the ranger’s. “Whatcha thinkin?”

Scott had considered this whole act long and hard. Dunce was like a teenaged girl. He didn’t know what he wanted. Didn’t know what felt good. And wasn’t sure he liked it. So he was going to treat him like a virgin chic – sort of. Hell, the soldier wanted to keep the clone happy and willing. He might be the only pussy that Scott would get for God-only-knows-how-long. So he was going to treat him right. “I’m thinking that we went too fast last time. What about you?”

Glancing down at the warm fingers wrapped around his, Dunce chewed on his lower lip. He wasn’t the brightest of models, but he did want to be liked. He wanted to be wanted. Did Scott think he didn’t like it? “Well, um, I don’t know. I mean, it was ok and all, I think.”

Pulling his hand free from the clone’s Scott slid his arm around the Frenzy model with well-practiced smoothness. It wasn’t like he was a newbie to the ‘dating’ scene. Not that he’d admit that was how he was approaching this ‘relationship’ – that would seem beyond gay. Granted, these clones weren’t male or female in that sense. They were almost sexless – or so the soldiers had originally thought of them. “I don’t want you unsure about what we do. So I’ve come up with an idea.”

“What’s that?” The red clone sure hoped it was a better one than the last idea.

“Well, you see humans are also unsure at first. So all that’s perfectly normal.” Scott’s lead-in was perfect…

Dunce relaxed, his optics brightening even more. His reaction to the interfacing last time was NORMAL?!? Oh, that was GREAT! He hadn’t disappointed his human friend then. “Cool, really?”

“Really.” Scott gave him a comforting squeeze. “I guess since you’re already, shall we say, physically mature for your model – I just assumed we could skip all the baby steps that normally lead up to sex.”

The clone puffed up his chest at the perceived compliment towards his chassis. “Baby steps? What are those?”

“Well,” the man purred, his eyes roved over Dunce’s chassis. “Usually teenaged humans first start by exploring each other’s body. We,” he paused, his fingers slipping over some of Dunce’s armor, “learn each other’s differences.”

The movement of those fingers caused a shiver to ripple over the clone’s sensory nets. His lower lip trembled as he tried to process the signals.

“Do you want to learn about our differences?” Scott leaned over and kissed the stunned clone on his cheek. “Learn about what pleasure is? I promise we’ll go slow.”

“S-slow?” Dunce’s processor was torn. He desperately longed for physical contact with soldiers. His programming pushed him to do anything and everything in order to get their praise and approval. But without the pleasure programming he just had a hard time handling so much input.

“Yes, slooooowww. Let yourself enjoy the overload and resets, don’t be afraid of them. It makes me happy to see you shut down like that.” He slipped his fingers between some of the armored plates, stroking wires…

“It m-makes you happy? You like me?” He yelped a little bit as a bolt of white-hot sensation rocked through his networks at the man’s intrusive touch. His optics searched Scott’s face, desperate to have the man like him.

“Yes, I like you Dunce.” Scott stood up and gently pushed the clone down onto his back armor. “Now we’ll play the exploration game. I’ll explore you first – then you explore me.”

His engine let out a whine as the man’s crotch pressed into his codpiece as he was pushed back against the soft blanket. Sensations washed over him like crashing waves. His ports down there felt weird. Like they were empty. Why was that? “O-Ok Scott,” he whispered.

Bending down over the prostrate clone, Scott gave him a slow kiss. His tongue flicked over the gray lips, asking entrance. But Dunce did nothing more than tremble. Bringing his hand up, Scott held the clone’s jaw in a gentle grip. “Let me taste your mouth Dunce. You taste mine at the same time. We’re just exploring,” he purred.

Balling the covers up in his digits, Dunce’s engine choked up as he opened his mouth. The man’s muscular body pressed hard against his armor, but his tongue…. His tongue was so different! Soft and supple, it invaded his mouth, flicking against his dentals, sliding along his glossa. Hesitantly, he moved his glossa. Scott HAD told him to explore his mouth too – hadn’t he? He opened his lips wider as he snuck his glossa out. His optics widened in surprise as he felt along organic teeth. He probed their surfaces, so similar yet so different from his own.

He grew bolder as he began to relax into the ‘oral exploration’. His meta processor could focus on one thing at a time. He could handle this input. Though it was difficult to handle how his hidden port was reacting. Was it because he’d interfaced with the soldier once before? Did his port sensors have some residual damage from it? For some reason, his port felt lubricated. His port felt weird.

“Mmmmm,” Scott murmured as he finally pulled away. “You don’t seem to be as afraid of input as you were last time.”

“We’re just exploring, uh, right?” Dunce stammered. He couldn’t help but lick his lips. He could still taste the unusual flavor of organic saliva. It was very different from his own.

“Yeah, that’s all for now. You’re the best clone in the team you know.” Scott slipped his fingers along Dunce’s chassis as he complimented him. All the men had realized that the clones lived for compliments, and he was using that tendency for all it was worth.

“I am?” Dunce shivered in pleasure, his face plate beaming. His meta processor quickly connected the emotion of happiness and pleasure to what the man’s fingers were doing.

“Yes, you are. But no one else will admit it publicly. You know how jealous Colt and Magnum would get,” Scott continued. His smile widened as he began to rub the clone’s protective pelvic armor – and the clone didn’t freak.

“So everyone thinks I’m the best?!?” the Frenzy clone chirped happily, not even consciously noticing that Scott’s fingers were rubbing so close to his ports. Ports that were feeling stranger by the minute….

“Yeah, pretty much. But don’t tell them I told you. We don’t want the other clones all jealous of you.” The smooth talking man bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Now why don’t I really explore what’s under your armor?”

A flush of hot pride flowed over the red clone. HE was the men’s secret favorite! Him! Oh wow! “I won’t say nothing,” he promised, and without a second thought, he commanded his lower panels to slide open. Something was pressing against the inside of one of them anyways. Maybe Scott could fix the loose wire or whatever it was.

“Whoa!” Scott’s surprise was honest, he hadn’t expected the machine to have what looked to be a black vacuum hose looking dick along with those ports!

“What?” Dunce lifted his head, looking down at his crotch in curiosity. His optics widened as he saw a half-inflated hose looking thing slowly unroll.

Resisting his instinctive urge to step back – frankly because he knew it’d ruin his future chances of using those delectable ports – Scott inhaled deeply and calmed his homophobia. “Colt didn’t bother to warn us that you clones were hermaphrodites.”

“Hermaphro-whats?” Reaching down, Dunce fumbled with the hose thingy. But pulled his digits away as intense shock waves of sensory data threatened to overwhelm his processor at the touch…. “It…. It…”

“Hermaphrodite, means you’ve got both pussies and dicks.” Pushing away his natural inclination to recoil at the nearness of another man’s – oh wait, Dunce wasn’t a man now was he?

“So, uh, that’s my dick?” Dunce poked at the thing, and yelped as pain signals hit him hard.

“Yeah, and quit that. You’ll hurt yourself.” Cocking his head, Scott watched in humor as the clone accidentally found that out the hard way.

“But,” Dunce poked his chest armor hard and it didn’t hurt. “It doesn’t hurt elsewhere when I poke myself. Why does it hurt there?”

Scott stopped him before he did it to himself again. “Because,” he paused, “dicks have a lot more nerves in them than the rest of us.”

Sitting up a little, Dunce stared down at the thing, which was slowly filling with pressure. “Why’s it getting bigger? I ain’t got blood like you.”

The man shrugged, he could hear a slight hydraulic whine. “Hydrostatic pressure maybe? Guess it makes sense.”

“So what do I do with it?” Now Dunce was actually afraid to touch the thingy. It either tried to overwhelm his processor – or hurt like fire.

Scratching his head, Scott tried to think of how to handle this unforeseen complication. There was no way in hell HE’D touch the thing. “Tell you what, let me show you something.” He began to unbutton his pants.

Bolting upright, Dunce scooted back as far as he could. “Y-you said we weren’t going to, uh…..”

“Chill out. I’m going to teach you how we guys deal with our issues by ourselves. Something a brother’s got to learn.” He shot the scared clone his most winning smile.

“Uh, ok, you sure?”

“I’m sure. Now gently wrap your hand around your dick like this,” Scott showed him as he explained. His own dick had gone half-soft once the clone’s true sexual identity had been discovered. So this might take a little effort.

“Uh, ok,” Dunce copied him, his chassis shaking as red hot sensations flew over his systems. He let go of his ‘dick’ like it had burned him. “T-too much input!” he whined.

“That’s what you want Dunce. The more – the better. You want to cum – I mean shut down – as fast as you can.” Scott stroked his own cock slowly, willing it back to life.

“I do?” Dunce looked down at himself doubtfully.

“You do. Now let’s try this together.” Reaching out, Scott grabbed the clone’s hand and forced him to grab his black robodick again. “Now, remember the marching song we fucked around with last march?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Stay in time with your strokes. We’ll make this a competition. Like who marches faster. The first one to cum – wins!” Scott grinned at the clone. He had no doubt the machine would shutdown way before he came.

“So I win if I shutdown first?” Dunce swallowed hard, his meta was near over load with just his hand wrapped around the hose.

“That’s the deal. I’ll wax you if you win; you shave my scruff if I win. Deal?”

“Deal. So what do I do with this?” Dunce had no clue.

“Copy me, ready?” Scott began to stroke.

Gulping back his fear of knocking his systems out cold – Dunce began to stroke.

Scott couldn’t help but laugh his ass off as the clone fell backwards limply after just the fifth stroke. “God, I lasted longer my first time masturbating.” He leaned over the clone, wondering if he could simply roll the thing up and stuff it back inside the clone’s armor. It was only half-pressurized. Deciding that he’d try it, he cringed as he handled another being’s ‘dick’. Gently, he curled it up and stuffed it back where it had come from. With a relieved sigh, he pulled the panel back closed over it and patted the now hidden area. “We’ve got to figure out how to keep that bad-boy in there!” he snickered.

Alarms shut off one-by-one within the clone’s meta processor. Slowly, his red optics began to glow as he focused. His ‘dick’ now felt strangely trapped. Looking down, he realized it was back inside his armor. “It went away,” he wondered aloud as he patted his closed panel.

“Does that once you’re done,” Scott said with a shrug.

Noticing that the man was still stroking his flesh dick, Dunce beamed in triumph. “I WON!!!” He’d never won shit in his existence. This was great!

“Yeah, guess I’ll be waxing you tomorrow,” Scott conceded with a wry grin. “But now you’ve got to explore me.” He lay down on the bed next to the clone.

Now that he truly understood just how sensitive dicks were to the touch, Dunce leaned over him careful not to touch the shaft. He ran his hands over the man, feeling his rock hard muscled frame beneath the camos.

“Don’t be afraid of my cock Dunce,” Scott finally told him.

The clone optic’d it warily. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You know what feels the best?” Putting his arms behind his head, the ranger looked down at the clone who’d been feeling him all over with shaky digits.

“Whats that?”

“When someone tastes it.”

“You want me to bite it? Won’t that hurt?” Dunce recoiled a bit; he could now imagine that type of pain.

“No, you taste it by licking it. Or sucking on it like one of those suckers you clones like,” Scott explained.

“Mmmm, I like the sour apple ones!” It was always a big treat to the clones when one of the soldiers gave up a sucker. Made the glossa sensors go nuts!

“I’ll give you one, if you suck on my cock like it was one. If I cum – you’ve got to swallow.” Scott knew he was baiting the clone. The things couldn’t resist those suckers. Even the Megatron clones couldn’t hide their desire for the treat.

“Promise?” It didn’t seem like a bad deal.

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Wow! Finally finished this chapter! Sorry I'm taking longer, CTS is acting up again. Glad to see ToonQueen is back. And you guys know I write for reviews. Yes, I'm a review whore, so give it to me hard... LOL
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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)