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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
- 24
- 25
- 26
** Age of the Machine part 20**

*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……. Smut is in sections 3 & 4.

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Section 1: Tangled Web

Place: Mixed Unit holed up in the warehouse

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“Fascinating idea,” the Cyclonus model replied. His red optics searched the tactician’s, giving the officer the impression that he could see right into his very meta.

“If you had observed the level of comfort that Scream has with them, you would arrive at a similar conclusion.” For the first time in his existence Jag felt like some uncertain youngling. Just how did the changling manage to do that to him? No one else had ever done so! Yet he was cool and composed on the outside, not a sign of his emotions showing through his control for the flyer to see.

Bond slowly nodded, his optics never straying from Jag’s. “Perhaps…..” His low voice made it sound like both a denial and an agreement at the same time. Suddenly, his stern expression changed and a warm smile flowed like honey over his handsome features. This was a trait shared by so many of the Decepticon flyer models; to go from zero to sixty and back to zero in the emotional state - keeping other models guessing. “But the trio of femmes are well-documented to show avoidance towards masculinity, and I…..” he didn’t have to finish his sentence, he merely spread his arms. For a Cyclonus clone is truly the epitome of masculinity….

For some reason the amusement in Bond’s optics caused Jag’s rigid self-control to weaken for a moment. In fact, he couldn’t help but to stifle a chuckle at the irony. It was amazing how when a clone relaxed emotionally in one part of his life – in Jag’s case it was in his sexuality – that he found he could relax more in other areas as well, such as a Prowl clone’s natural hyper-self control tendencies. “True, you are much more masculine now than you were.”

“Yet Sandy still expressed interest in your offer – even after you informed her of my future inclusion?” Cocking his helm, Bond shot him a look of total disbelief.

“She promised that she would consider it, after we all pass the femmes’ tickle test. That’s you, me AND Opie.” Jag’s door wings still tingled at the thought, though his face plate showed no outward emotion.

“Tickle test? Do I dare ask what that entails?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t know what you’re going to face.” The tactician could picture it. Big, masculine hunk of a flyer lying helpless on the ground, femmes all over him driving his sensory nets mad with stimuli; All the while, every single one of them knowing that he’d better not show arousal – or he’d fail the test….

Bond arched up an optic ridge in curiosity. “It must truly be a difficult test.” Now he was half-way between curious-as-hell and worried. If Jag had gotten so flustered by it that he didn’t wish to describe it – how would he handle it?

“Difficult and torturous,” Jag replied. His optics gleamed a bit as a sense of mischief entered his spark. He made a point to slowly look the flyer up-and-down as if in doubt. “I just hope you manage to get through it with just mild system damage.” Turning away from Bond, a flit of a smirk danced across his face plate as he sensed the powerful clone straightening his wings. The smirk swiftly wiped away before anyone could witness it. Prowl clones were masters of the poker face!

“I shall not fail you Jag!” Bond announced before blinking out in warp.

“Oh, you have no idea what you’ve just warped yourself into my friend….” Jag mumbled under his breath, the slightest of smirks returning to brighten his normally expressionless façade before disappearing into nothingness yet again.

---------

As Bond was warping into the ‘danger zone’, a particular ghost spark had finally located what he’d been searching for. He’d figured out by watching the interactions of the clones around Opie that the Seeker clone designated as Dante could not be the clone that little Prime had claimed to love. So there had to be another Starscream model within this pathetic group of survivors. He had flitted around the perimeter, going right through walls… Passing by humans, clones and mechs unseen and unknown… As was his power as a free spark. A power he was using to his utmost advantage!

Now, as his dark optics finally rested upon the only other clone whom fit the little Prime’s description, he wasn’t sure just how he should feel. He studied the Seeker intently. His sharp meta easily discerning the most probable alt mode that the red tipped one would have. The organic scum were more ingenious than he’d ever give them credit for; than the Decepticons would’ve ever suspected. For they had taken the mech technology and blended it perfectly with their most advanced stealth technology! Just as he had run across a Thundercracker model modified into an F-22 – he now had found one of his own.

But that wasn’t what had his emotions so tumultuous…. No, not by a long shot of a laser cannon… The humans had also done something to this clone that was so blasphemous… So unbelievable… So unexcusable…. Starscream felt his spark pulsing wildly at the mere idea of it all.

For there, lying contentedly between two pitiful Autobot femme models and a human female - was HIM! The clone almost a perfect replica of what Starscream had once been before the war. A fech Seeker built as almost a femme. Femme enough to be mistaken for a true femme! The ghost curled and uncurled his digits into tight balls. He didn’t know whether to be outraged – or amazed! His darkest secret… Exposed for all these humans to see… And Rumble… Rumble obviously knew it all now.

Rumble could not be allowed to ever go back. Starscream felt that with a certainty that he had never felt before. Looking up through the layers of roof metal, he saw the swirling sky of the pathetic ruined world. Once he tired of playing with these clones, he would go back to the mechs. He would erase the memories of this planet somehow. Erase all of the files…. This world would be no more to the mechs and their surviving pet organics. Yes! That would be the easiest way to ensure that Rumble would die on this pitiful rock. Let him die here with the equally useless Beachcomber. They were perfect together… Perfect…

His mind now made up on how to handle Rumble, Starscream optics drifted back to the rebooting form of his first clone ‘offspring’. He would not tolerate this miniscule mirror image of his early self – if he was weak and incompetent! Never mind that HE himself had been weak then. That was besides the point. HE was the true leader amongst the Decepticons! HE had been the only one with the vision… The intelligence… The bravery.. To be great! His clones must also be that – or he would find a way to destroy those that weren’t. Only those who met his personal approval had a right to live. That was his right as their mech – was it not?

He watched as the feminized Seeker prodded the femme next to him, motioning for her to reach into a much smaller bunk that was next to the main bunk. She did as the fech clone asked. Lifting out a small black fleshling youngling and handing it over to the fech…..

Only the ghost could see the fleshling’s spark. Starscream’s optics widened as he saw the truth behind the ‘human youngling’ façade. This black skinned youngling was no fleshling! He carried within him a mech’s spark! The ghost floated closer in, his meta focused on this strange creature. His mind drifting back to the scientist he had once been….

The creature smiled up at the fech clone, waving his arms and mumbling ‘mummy mummy’… It giggled hysterically as the fech let it crawl onto his cockpit and began to wiggle his digits along its tiny sides. “MY baby… MY beautiful baby…” the clone coo’d to him, his optics radiating the soft warm glow of love.

Starscream-the-ghost jerked back as if shot. In fact, he fell right through the wall. Much to the merriment of the two Autobot ghosts who’d been watching him…Their laughter chased him through the walls.

“LEAVE ME ALONE – YOU AUTOBOT PIECES OF SLAG!” Starscream bellowed. Picking himself up, he returned to his position as he shot a glare in the direction of the laughter.

“Shocked the spark right out of you – didn’t it?” Wheeljack snickered. He elbowed his spark mate who was now poking his translucent helm out of the wall as well.

“Nothing shocks the supreme Commander of the Mighty Decepticons!” the Seeker ghost snarled back.

“Make that ‘former-Commander-for-an-astrominute’ – ain’t that right Ratchet?” the inventor burned back. Now that they were all free sparks there was nothing to fear. No one was stronger than the other. It was kind’ve nice being dead and all.

“Indeed. Haven’t you learned that bragging gets you no where?” Ratchet chided, an optic ridge raised as he met the Seeker ghost’s dark orbs.

“Except a shot in the faceplate compliments of your risen-from-the-dead tyrant,” Wheeljack snickered, an almost blue gleam shimmering in his black optics.

Snorting in contempt, Starscream averted his optics. “I do not brag. It is the TRUTH!”

“You won’t get anywhere with the fragger. Even dead – he’s a useless tailpipe.” Ratchet rolled his optics and drifted off to enjoy his observation of the clones without the annoying Decepticon spark nearby.

Wheeljack stayed though, his dark optics studying Starscream. “You’re a tough bolt to get through to Seeker.” He turned and watched the fech clone playing happily with the human-look-a-like youngling and the femmes. “But I know your history. I know that you would give everything to have been HIM.”

“Leave me!” Starscream growled, “Spout off your foolish theories to someone who cares!”

The Autobot spark drew near to him. “That clone’s designation is Scream. He was one of the first of your models you know.” He paused for a moment before resuming. “He’s not only THE Air Commander of this band of survivors – but he called the modified Prime model his mate. Not to mention that he’s won the spark of yet another Prime model.” Wheeljack studied the other ghost for a moment before continuing. “You screamed yourself to defrag for a millennia. Punished yourself by enduring Megatron’s abuse – simply because you couldn’t accept what you are. Yet here, on this world you consider worthless, pieces of you survive. Survive and live out your dreams – your fantasies.”

The Decepticon spark snorted again as if he was totally annoyed that the Autobot continued to plague him with his company. But he was listening… Listening intently – though he’d never admit to it! His emotions rolled from one extreme to the other and back again.

“Not only that,” Wheeljack’s voice lowered, indicating that he had an even bigger secret to tell. “He and the Thundercracker clone were the first to give birth to organomechs.”

“Organic mechs – please….” Starscream rolled his optics, his voice cold. His meta was going wild though. Wild, thinking about the potential of this information!

“Yep. They’ll one day replace us inorganic mechs. At least that’s what the two adult organomechs who claim to be from the future say.” Wheeljack reached out, his invisible hand stroked the toddler’s nappy hair. “Yep, this little organomech is the Ground Commander’s pride and joy. He’s so cute! And to think – they will ALL be descended from your trine’s clones. From YOU.” Reaching down, the ghost patted Scream’s smooth leg armor, the clone totally unaware of their presence. “Spike once told me that this was how humans touched immortality. Just think about it Starscream.” He turned and met the brooding ghost’s dark orbs. “You are now something that Megatron could never be. You are something of a father to the new organomech species.”

A wash of pride ran through the Seeker ghost at those quiet words. Yet, annoyance stung him as well – since it was Wheeljack who had put two-and-two together – not him. And that in itself was an intolerable state of affairs! Starscream considered smacking the annoying ghost, but before he could – a Cyclonus model warped in. He growled lowly, his natural inclination was to attack all who followed Galvatron…. Lunging towards the flyer, his hands reached out to strangle him…

Not aware of the ghosts – or the danger – Bond turned towards Scream and the femmes. Going down on a knee – which made the ghost’s lunge pass right over him with a snarl of rage that was only heard by Wheeljack – the Cyclonus clone inclined his head. “I am here for your ‘test’ Commander,” he announced. His low voice resounding through the small room….

The ghost stopped himself as he lunged for a second attack. This Cyclonus clone was submissive to HIS model. He’d let him continue functioning – for now. Stepping back, he watched the situation unfold. Ignoring the fact that Wheeljack’s ghost had finally quit plaguing him with his presence….

An evil smirk widened on his face plate as the Cyclonus clone fell back on the floor, helpless under a pile of snickering femmes, fech and youngling. His yelps were like music to the audios. His optics widened and narrowed in thought as the ‘tickle torture’ of the pwerful flyer commenced fully. It was a fascinating type of torture to be sure. He was surprised he had never thought of it himself! Even the tiny organomech youngling was included. Amazing! A torture sequence that left no mark upon the victim’s chassis – yet left him writhing in apparent agony. All with the simple technique of wiggling digits… Fascinating – and effective…. It was not long until the powerful flyer was begging for reprieve…..

The ghost winked out of sight…..

------

Jag gave no outward sign of his emotions as the flyer reappeared next to him. It had been almost thirty minutes since he’d left, but by the gasps of his intakes and trembling frame – it must’ve felt like days. “Did you pass?” he asked offhandedly.

Gasping for air to cool his overheated systems, Bond couldn’t answer. Instead, he punched his future ‘marital partner’ in the door wing with all of his remaining strength.

Hitting the ground hard, Jag couldn’t help but nod his approval. “That just leaves Opie.”

“May Primus give him strength!” Bond replied. And he meant every word!

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Section 2: Romance in the air?

Still in the mixed Unit.

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“A-an-any s-s-sign?” Jamie asked as he entered the command trailer.

Sharon looked up from her post at the communications consol. Groove had come in with the architect clone, both of them worriedly eyeballing her. “No, not yet. Most of the flyers are searching along with the ground clones and mechs – but nothing. Not a trace.”

The Grapple clone and Jazz clone both frowned in unison, coming up to stand on either side of her. They both looked at the search pattern grid. It was as if they thought that if they looked at it hard enough – their ground Commander’s beacon would suddenly appear.

Sharon gave a sad sigh. She was exhausted! Between caring for little Airazor, dealing with TC’s drama over Bond’s rejection, continuing her research with the small collection of stage 1 infected clones – and manning the com here-and-there; she was totally drained! Suddenly, she felt comforting arms circling her from both sides.

“It’ll be ok Babe,” Groove whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

“Y-y-yes w-w-we’ll t-take ov-ver. Y-y-you g-go res-st,” Jamie added. He smiled down at her as she lifted her chin to meet his blue optics.

Sagging in their supportive embrace, Sharon met his optics. She’d so hoped that giving a stage 1 infected clone a spark would cure him. It hadn’t. Instead, the virus seemed to have been placed in permanent hibernation mode. It was still there. The spark energy seemed to merely work as a lock mechanism. The Grapple clone’s initial virus-induced glitch of his vocals – would be there the rest of his existence. “I’m so sorry Jamie,” she whispered, tears of defeat filling her dark eyes. She knew how desperate he had been to be ‘normal’ again when they had found him. He never would get his wish.

The architect smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “N-no b-big d-deal. It-t w-won’t g-get w-worse and-d p-people t-trust m-me n-now. I-I’m n-not d-danger-rous.”

“And the kids think he’s one cool cat – building all Jester’s props,” Groove added.

“I-I l-like k-kids!” Jamie agreed with a vigorous nodding of his head.

Turning her head to the side, Sharon wrapped her arms around his bulky chassis and pressed against him. He was so sweet. So honest… So eager to get everyone to like him.. It didn’t matter if it was merely a pat on the shoulder armor. Any small show of appreciation from a human made this clone’s entire day. She sighed; wishing her drama king of a husband would go for a boring clone like this one – instead of other highly emotional models. “You’re so sweet Jamie. You know we all love you.”

His optics widened in surprise. No human had ever said that to him before! “R-really? Y-you l-love m-me?”

Uh-oh! Sharon pulled back, looking up at him in shock. “Uh, well, I…” Looking into his optics, she could literally SEE the lonely desperation to be loved in them. He hadn’t taken what she said – how she meant for him to take it. But how could she break his spark by informing him of that?!? How could she get out of this mess?!?

Groove saved her ass without meaning to. He chuckled and flicked Jamie on the side of his helm. “Man, ya gotta get TC to like you first. He ain’t a cat that likes to share ya know. Kind’ve like Grammy. Took us MONTHS to win her over!”

Letting out her breath, Sharon secretly thanked Groove deep inside. He’d never know what kind of royal mess he just might have averted. “Yeah, Groove’s right Jamie.”

“Mum’s the word man!” the Jazz clone quipped.

The Grapple clone frowned for a moment, and then a light bulb seemed to go off in his meta. “O-ok I-I c-can d-do th-that!”

“Do what?” the other two asked as one.

Jamie shrugged, his face beaming happily. “Air-r-r-azor l-likes it-t wh-when I-I b-baby s-s-sit. S-so I-I’ll j-just h-hang out-t with-th y-you t-two m-more. G-get t-to kn-know T-TC b-better!” He grabbed her hand and began to drag her after him as he trotted out of the command trailer, leaving the Jazz clone to man the com.

Well, if Jamie’s plan worked – TC could do a lot worse in a clone mate. The older Sharon got, the more she worried about what would happen to the blue Seeker when she died. Jamie would be the type to be totally committed to a relationship. He wasn’t a player, and wasn’t the type that other clones or humans would likely pursue. So maybe a rather boring ground clone model like him was just what an emotional Seeker model really needed?

--------

Section 3: Lessons….

Army Ranger team holed up in the abandoned house.

-------

“Been two days now. You think he’s made contact yet?” Tim asked Magnum.

The Megatron clone narrowed his optics in thought. “No, not yet. He will study the situation fully before making contact.”

“You can’t fault these models in intelligence, that’s for sure,” Mike quipped as he took another bite from his meal.

“Make’s a clone wonder why the Decepticons never could win,” Reject snickered. He lifted his nose from his hand of cards, snickering as the clone SIC shot him a look intended to kill. It was fun for the Autobot cassetticon clone to constantly remind the rather arrogant Megatron clones of that fact. They always seemed to feel as if they were totally perfect or something – needing to be brought down a notch here-and-there.

The Rumble clone next to him punched him hard in the side, resulting in yet another cassetticon clone wrestling match. This time between different members than usual…

“Ah, let’s leave them to their fightin’,” Scott snickered. Grabbing Dunce’s arm, he refused to let the Frenzy clone dive into the fray.

Tim and Mike grabbed the pair of fighting clones; dragging them apart and setting them down next to them with sharp glares. “Do you clones ever stop to think?” Tim asked them.

Spade stubbornly crossed his arms and huffed, “HE started it!” The Rumble clone was determined to place the blame squarely on the Eject clone’s shoulder plates this time.

“Fucking liar!” Reject lunged towards him, managing to get himself kneed hard by Mike.

Scott rolled his eyes. Standing up, he pulled Dunce up by his shoulder plate. “I’m sick of this shit. Let’s bail.” He headed straight for the hallway to his favorite room, dragging the Frenzy clone behind him.

“Damned pervert,” Mike commented under his breath as he continued to keep a hold of the pissed off Reject.

“You just wish that you were gettin’ a nut too!” Scott yelled back. He smiled at Dunce as the clone closed the door behind them.

“What’s gettin’ a nut mean?” the Frenzy clone asked. He wasn’t afraid this time as he sat down on the bed. In fact, he was starting to look forward to all this shutting down crap. With a small whir, his port panels slid open, since he expected that was what Scott was going to want. His hidden cable pressed hard against his armor, demanding to be freed as well. But he didn’t free it. Scott didn’t seem to really like it.

“It means cum,” Scott replied. He smiled at the clone as he walked up to him and he didn’t shy away this time.

Shivering as Scott stood between his spread legs, Dunce reached up and fumbled with the man’s belt. His ports felt weird. Wet and empty and cold… A strange need filled him. A need to experience the man again – though he still wasn’t sure if he really liked it yet….

“You don’t seem to be afraid this time,” the man noted. He smiled at the clone’s clumsy attempts to unbuckle his belt. Reaching down, he showed him how to work the buckle.

The Frenzy clone grinned triumphantly as he unfastened and refastened the belt a few times, proving to the man that he wasn’t as dense as everyone claimed he was. Now, the buttons on the pants were something else. His optic ridges furrowed in frustration as he tried to figure them out without ripping the material.

“You’re a sharp one,” Scott complimented as he patiently showed the clone how to work buttons.

Beaming in pleasure at the compliment, Dunce did the same thing with the buttons as he had with the belt. He unbuttoned and buttoned several times, making sure that he’d gotten the hang of the damned things. Having perfected those skills, he left the man’s pants open, his meta confused by what to do about the boxers beneath.

“Let me show you,” Scott slowly freed his limp cock, letting the clone see how his under clothes worked.

“What’s wrong with it?” Dunce asked, looking at it. “Do ya gotta pee?” It seemed reasonable enough. The clones had observed the soldier’s peeing enough to connect the idea of limp dicks with evacuating liquid wastes.

The logic connection made the man laugh. “No, it needs your mouth in order to wake up.”

“Wake up?” The clone was confused. So a part of a human body could still be asleep while the rest was awake? How strange.

“Yeah, we’ll just leave it at that.” He moved back a bit as the clone shifted to lay on his belly armor, facing Scott.

“Uh, ok,” Dunce replied. Hesitantly, he reached out and stroked the soft flesh. “I get a sucker?” he asked hopefully. Normally clones didn’t demand treats from humans, but Scott was teaching him that he could ask now. Scott had told him that what went on between them would always be agreed between them first.

“Yeah, afterwards.” Scott’s dick was already responding to the touch. His balls began to throb slightly in anticipation of what was to come.

“Gotta sour apple one?” he asked hopefully, licking his lips.

Leaning forward, Scott’s hands drifted along the clone’s aft armor, heading towards the open ports. “Well, I don’t have too many of those left.” He paused as his fingertips reached the slits he was after. “But maybe if you can also handle a little…” he didn’t finish his statement, just rimmed the clone’s exposed ports with the tips of his fingers.

Data rushed through Dunce’s meta, sending a shiver through his motor-nets. “T-too mu….” He slammed his mouth shut before he uttered the words. He really REALLY wanted a sour apple sucker! Fighting back against the stimuli overflow, he focused on what the man wanted HIM to do. Licking at the soft flesh, he carefully sucked it into his mouth.

“Mmmmm, you’re learning fast…” Scott moaned. His toes tingled as he was engulfed in the wet warmth of the clone’s mouth. The glossa swirled against his flesh, eliciting another moan from his throat.

The soft dick swiftly enlarged, surprising the clone a bit. He licked and sucked it as if it was a sour apple sucker, pride swelling his meta as the man’s groans increased. Now that his meta was focused on something other than the fingertips toying at the entrances to his ports – he could handle them there. Arching his aft up, he spread his bent legs, giving
Scott more access to them. His ports ached with cold and emptiness…

“Take it all… mmmmm…. Yeah..” With one hand, Scott held the back of Dunce’s helm, slamming his cock down his throat. “Let me fuck your mouth… ugh!” He couldn’t stop himself; he thrust in-and-out of the clone’s warm orifice.

Surprised, Dunce didn’t know what to do. He gagged a little as throat sensors were stimulated by Scott’s cock hitting them. But unlike humans, clones were designed to enjoy the stimulation of those sensors. And even without pleasure programming, the military clones could enjoy it – whether it be sour apple sucker flavor or a hard dick which caused the stimulation. Reacting to it as if it was the flavor stimulation, Dunce sucked harder… Taking him deeper…. Wanting stimulation….

“Holy shit!” Scott dug his fingers into the back of Dunce’s helm, his other hand sinking fingers deep within the clone’s ports to keep the clone’s chassis in position. His cock throbbed with each thrust, his balls shivering as the pressure built.

Eagerly, Dunce reached forward, grabbing the man’s thighs, pulling him to thrust faster, harder… He swallowed down his saliva, the pressure increasing in his throat around the man.

“Swallow it! Ugh! Ugh!” he couldn’t hold back, shooting his wad of fire straight down the clone’s throat unit. Again and again his balls clenched, the pressure releasing……

Already trying to swallow in order to keep his throat sensors stimulated, the clone did as the man wanted. The salty taste so different, so intense….. He continued suckling eagerly on the man even after there was no more coming…

“Shit! Stop…. Mmmmmm…. Don’t stop!” Scott began to tremble uncontrollably. He’d always dreamed of having a chic do this. But women had always gone running to the bathroom in order to rinse the taste from their mouths by now. It was both the most incredible experience he’d ever had – and one he couldn’t handle a second longer! Ready to collapse, he pulled his over-sensitized dick from Dunce’s eager mouth.

Dunce looked up at him and smacked his lips as the gasping man leaned on his shoulder armor. “I won this time huh?”

His mind still almost too foggy to think, Scott looked down at him with dazed eyes. “What?”

“You came first, so I won!” Dunce wiggled eagerly, his optics gleaming. “I want two suckers!” he dared to demand.

Finally realizing what the clone was referring to, Scott chuckled. “Ok, ok,” he said as he shook the fog off. “You can have one while I check out that wonderful robopussy of yours.”

“And another one later? Huh?” Dunce spun around and laid on his back armor, his hand held out for his first prize. Being a soldier’s fuck buddy was becoming the best deal he’d ever had. Granted, he hadn’t had another deal except what the government had ordered him for in the first place – but who cared?

Pulling a sucker out of his pocket, Scott handed it to the clone. He smiled as Dunce ripped off the wrapper and crammed it into his mouth with much lip-smacking and ‘mmmmming’. “Ok, think you can handle me getting hard IN your port this time?”

Sucking contentedly on his first prize, Dunce nodded and wrapped his legs around the man’s hips. His ports felt empty. He thought he could handle feeling them full this time, now that he kind’ve knew what to expect.

Opening up the entrance to the clone’s forward port with two of his fingers, Scott was pleased to find it filled with lubricant already. “Thought you needed a new program to release lube?”

“Dunno, mmmmmm,” Dunce mumbled without taking the sucker out of his mouth. He shrugged his shoulder plates, telling the man that he hadn’t a clue why his systems were releasing the protectant.

“Maybe you clones CAN learn new things that you’re not programmed for,” Scott mused as he guided his half-limp cock into the ready hole. He had to work it in with his fingertips, for the port was still a tight little hole.

The push of a soft member inside him was weird, but a little better than when the guy had thrust it all hard into him the first time. Calming his meta to the data input, Dunce relaxed as Scott pushed the warm soft flesh inside him. Contentedly, he sucked on the candy, savoring the stimulation in his mouth and in his forward port.

“You like it like this?” Scott asked. He pressed his hips hard against Dunce’s pelvis, enjoying the sensation of being surrounded by tight warmth. His cock slowly wakening yet again…. He willed it to harden slowly. For the clone didn’t seem as overwhelmed and scared by it being half-hard inside him.

Dunce nodded, smiling with the sucker stick hanging out of one side of his closed lips.

“Good. You’re the best military clone ever. You know that?” Since he’d already shot a load, Scott knew he could now enjoy this fuck for a long time before coming again. And he was going to try to make it the same for his partner.

The clone beamed at the compliment. He lived for these! “And you’re the best fuck ever too!” he replied with the sucker

The man chuckled; it was a funny statement coming from a clone who’d never fucked anyone else. Dunce looked quite comical, his legs wrapped around him while he sucked contentedly on the prized sucker. He was so… innocent… It was almost hard to picture him as the clone who’d fought fearlessly at his side all this time.

Dunce pouted when the man chuckled. “Why you laughin’ at me?” He crossed his arms in a huff.

Realizing he’d insulted the clone without meaning to; Scott bent down and tried to kiss him.

“No, too much input!” Dunce turned his head. He was finding out how much he could handle at the same time. Sucking a sucker and having his port used at the same time was already pushing it. He so was NOT going to kiss too!

Raising an eyebrow in humor, Scott realized that the clone was truly learning his chassis. “I was going to just kiss your cheek and tell you that I chuckled because you’re the cutest, most innocent partner I’ve ever been with.”

“Just my cheek plate?” He optic’d him suspiciously, the sucker still locked in his dentals.

“Just your cheek, I promise.”

Dunce turned his head back to face him, jutting his jaw out.

Scott gave him his warmest smile as he pecked him on his cheek plate. “You know what?” He moved his hips just slightly, his dick throbbing at the slight movement.

The clone tightened his legs around the man’s hips as his ports sensors flared with data. The cock was getting bigger inside him, pressing against them all – just like it had in his throat. Fighting to control his processor, he focused on the sucker again. “What?”

“You are so much like a human chic – it’s insane.” Carefully, Scott moved slightly again. He didn’t want to overwhelm the clone and make him afraid again.

“Is that bad?” Dunce shivered as his port clenched around the shaft. Anxiety began to fill him….

“Shhhhhhh, I’m gonna go so slow that you’ll be able to compensate.” Scott set his hands on Dunce’s hips, holding him still. “And it’s good to be like a human chic – when you’re a guy’s fuck buddy.”

“Uh, ok,” His voice showed his building fear. Reaching down, he gripped Scott’s arms as he swirled his glossa around the sucker, desperately trying to keep himself focused on it and not on his port.

“Let me tell you a secret Dunce. You can’t ever EVER tell a human woman it! You promise?” Scott began to ever-so-slowly pull his now-hard-as-a-rock cock out of the clone.

Trembling horribly, Dunce mewed as he nodded. His digits dug into Scott’s arms… His port sensors were trying to overwhelm his meta with input… Input….

“The more times a man can get his partner to cum before he does – the better it is for his pride,” Scott whispered. Hell, it was the god awful truth! Though most women faked more than they actually came; everyone knew that. His cock was now almost all the way out, only the thick head remained within the clone. He fought the urge to hump the clone silly. No, he’d already gotten his nut. Now he needed to ensure that Dunce learned to enjoy a true fucking.

Gasping at the sensation, Dunce felt his port began to ache with emptiness deep within him. He still couldn’t decide whether all these sensations terrified him – or excited him. Right now they were just confusing him. “So, mmmmmmmm,” he arched up as the man ever so slowly began to fill his ache again. Millimeter by millimeter… So slow that his meta had time to process the data load – then compensate for the next sensory bundle to be stimulated. “Want me to shut down?”

“Again and again Dunce. We’ll do this slowly, so you can handle the data load. I want you to shut down so many times that your main frame is so re-aligned afterward – you’ll feel like a whole new clone.” He paused as he pushed fully into the clone, stretching him around him. “You like it when you’re programming is re-aligned don’t you?”

“Mmmmmm,” Dunce tilting his head back, sucking hard on the sucker as his port stretched. He did like the fresh feeling when he was totally defragged and re-aligned. “Yeah, mmmmmm,” he moaned.

Scott began the slow process of pulling out again; his eyes staying on Dunce’s face plate, watching the emotions roll over it. “God you’re so tight Dunce! My cock doesn’t want to leave your incredible robopussy…”

“Mmmmm, input too…. Mmmmmm,” Scott slowed right when he started to complain, his anxiety lessened. He began to really relax into the stimuli. “Yeah… my port likes your dick in it… mmmmmmm…. Empty…”

He was pulled out to the entrance again, his head just spreading the slit ever so slightly. “You’re empty?”

“Empty,” Dunce shifted, trying to get the man to fill him again. He kind’ve liked the full feeling. It felt good once Scott quit moving and paused like that.

“You want my cock to fill you?” Scott’s voice was low, gruff… Filled with desire… He loved to ‘talk dirty’ while he fucked.

“Mmmm, yeah… I want your cock!” the clone begged, arching up and trying to pull the man back in.

Scott slid back inside, a little too fast this time, causing the clone to whimper, moan and thrash a bit at the rapid data load. He stopped after he was up to the hilt, allowing the clone to process the data load.

“Too much! Too much! Ngst!” Dunce clawed at Scott’s arms, his dentals crunching into the sucker as his meta was overwhelmed for a brief moment. Then the data stream slowed. His port felt good, felt full again. Scott’s hard warmth flowed through his internals…. “Ahhhhhhhhh, yeah… Goooooooodddddd….”

“So you like it when you get overwhelmed, then I stop. You’re such a naughty clone. A naughty clone who likes my cock!” Twisting his arms suddenly, the man ended up holding Dunce’s arms. He pressed them down hard on the bed, effectively rendering the clone helpless.

“Mmmmm, I like your cock filling me,” Dunce admitted. He considered fighting the man in order to get his hands freed, but the government had programmed him to never fight a US soldier. So he was trapped…

“You’re my little bitch Dunce. My bitch who likes to be fucked!” Scott began pulling out slowly again, reveling in how the robopussy clenched at him. Trying to keep him trapped within its slick warmth.

“Noooooooo,” Dunce moaned. His port sensors washed data over him, desperate for the pressure to return. He writhed in the soldier’s grip, trying to keep him from pulling out…

Before he was totally out, Scott slammed in once again, pressing even deeper, stretching the clone further.

Dunce gasped, his system red lining at the unexpected stimulation. His optics rolled up as he trembled. In a split second, he was out cold.

While his partner was out in overload, Scott enjoyed his port. He set a steady pace of thrusts, letting his pressure build a bit. The second Dunce showed signs of rebooting; he stopped cold, his throbbing cock just pressing at the entrance.

“Mmmmmm, empty….” Dunce complained as his optics brightened. He wasn’t shocked and scared of over loading as much anymore. Scott wanted him to. Scott said it was a compliment if he did…

They did the same sequence again several times. The clone becoming more-and-more relaxed and accepting each time.

This time when he reactivated, Scott’s head wasn’t even stretching his entrance. “I wanna fuck!” Dunce whined in a weak voice. He had over-loaded six times now. So many times that his chassis felt all light and warm…

“Put your ankles here,” Scott motioned to his shoulders. He was amazed at how flexible Dunce’s joints were as the clone made no complaint when he complied. Squeezing his aft armor, Scott began to tease his unused aft port with the tip of his cock.

“Mmmmmm, hurts but….” Tightening his linkages, Dunce also tightened his ports without realizing it.

“Just like your other pussy, it’ll stretch out,” Scott assured him as he slowly forced his throbbing shaft into the virgin hole.

Not stopping him, Dunce gripped the sheets. His aft port burned like fire from the intrusion of the thick shaft. His forward port ached with emptiness. “My forward port…. Empty…” he whined softly.

“Don’t worry,” with a final thrust of his hips, Scott finished impaling him with his shaft. Staying locked within the tight port; he grabbed the clone’s legs and forced them to stretch towards Dunce’s head. “Hold your legs against your shoulder plates. I want to see your holes.”

His linkages whined from the unnatural stretch, but Dunce complied with Scott’s order. Like a Dallas Cheerleader, he finally had both legs straight up against his chassis.

Damn were these clones incredible! In this position, Dunce had tipped his pelvic up. Now he was in the perfect position for Scott to fuck his ass and play with his pussy at the same time. Not moving his hips, the man slowly rimmed the dripping pussy hole with his finger tips. “You’re pussy feels so empty, but your ass is so full. Hmmmmm?”

“Yeah,” Dunce mewed as his aching forward port responded to the slight touch. Round and round his slit, opening him, stretching him…

With two of his finger tips, Scott stretched the entrance open, enjoying the view. “You’re such a wonderful dirty clone. Liking it up the ass!” As he held open the entrance, he rubbed another fingertip along the exposed interior surface, just as he would a woman’s g-spot.

“Yeah…. Ngst! Too much!” Dunce was out like a light bulb again.

Scott grinned mischievously, sliding two fingers in the wetness; he pumped them in and out.

Dunce re-activated to the sensation of his aft port still filled to the splitting point as his forward port was being finger fucked. His meta processor flashed warning sequences, informing him that he could not over load and reset for another five minutes. Five minutes was too much! He couldn’t stand this for that long! He felt a strange sensation building within his circuits as he bit down on one of his own legs. Strange waves of tremors raking him without mercy!

Still pressed tightly to the clone’s pelvis, Scott thrust his fingers rapidly in and out of the clone. Dunce seemed dazed, confused, his red optics flicking as he made strange mewing sounds while he trembled with each thrust of the fingers. “God, you’re incredible! Incredible!” Scott didn’t realize how true that was until suddenly Dunce let out a whine, his chassis convulsing even though he still kept his arms locked around his legs that were pressed against his chest.

As the whine continued, Scott felt his aft port clench around his shaft. The linkages working their tightness up and down his length, again and again and again…. It felt like he was thrusting into the clone, only he wasn’t moving his hips at all. Gasping, a moan escaped Scott’s lips as he fought his balls needs. It was incredible… It was torture… Then it stopped, the clone going limp – but not deactivated.

“You ok Dunce?” Scott asked as he pulled his fingers out of his forward port. Sure, it had reminded him of a woman having a mind-blowing orgasm – but this was a clone. They shut down – did not have orgasms!

“Mmmmmmm,” Dunce turned his head to the side, his optics unfocused and half shuttered. He couldn’t process to talk if he tried right now. Every fiber inside him tingled!

“Nod if you liked it.” Did the clone actually HAVE an orgasm?

Nuzzling into the blanket, the clone nodded as best he could.

“Wow! I mean – damn! Do you realize you can have an orgasm just like a real woman?” Scott slid his fingers back into the forward port, stretching it open again. He began to rub the clone’s apparent ‘g-spot’ again. This time, he also moved his hips every so slightly. He could feel his own impending orgasm building, if he timed everything just right……..

A few minutes later, Dunce was panting heavily, his hands tearing the blanket as he road out another one of the intense system reactions.

As the clone’s ports began to spasm – Scott grabbed his legs and thrust violently into him a few times. Spewing hot magma straight into the aching depths… The port clenched in waves around his spent member, milking it for every last drop which it greedily swallowed. His dick went limp, slipping out of Dunce as Scott rolled onto the bed next to him. His body tingling, his breath coming in great gasps….

Dunce finally woke from his trance-like orgasmic daze about twenty minutes later to find Scott snoring next to him. Shaking himself a bit in order to get his processors focused, the clone slowly straightened his joints with much snapping and popping. Wiping off his dripping ports with a piece of the blanket, he closed his protective armor. Having taken care of his own system needs, he turned to his slumbering fuck buddy.

Just as Scott had once put his cable back where it went, Dunce carefully did the same for the man. Then he dragged him fully onto the bed. With a grin, he dared to unbutton the pocket where Scott kept his catch of suckers. He fished around until he found the flavor he wanted, pulled his prize out and rebuttoned the pocket. Sticking the sucker in his mouth, he arranged the limp man so that his head rested on his shoulder armor. Pulling the covers over them, he revved his engine to provide warmth in the chill of the unheated home.

With a smile, Dunce savored every lick of his hard-earned reward while he stroked Scott’s hard muscled back. His systems glowed like they had never glowed before. He seemed more alert, more focused, stronger, braver…. Scott was right! Organisms and all that stuff were good for a clone’s systems!

And now he had everything a military clone would ever want. A sucker, a man snuggled up against his armor – and a fuck buddy who really REALLY thought he was the best clone ever built! The energy shield around his power core pulsed in contentment…..

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Section 4: Misery likes company

The city formerly known as Little Rock, Arkansas

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The elevator finally stopped. Charge estimated that they had traveled at least 25 floors. His captors grabbed his shoulders and audio receptors, jerking him back to his peds as they ruthlessly twisted his thin audios. He refused to give them the satisfaction of his pain, biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard, that he could taste his own energon. Weakly, he kicked out with a ped – his rage still fueling his disobedience…

He was kicked mercilessly in the crotch, held up so that he couldn’t fall. The doors opened just as he grunted in pain. “I will kill you all….” he muttered through clenched lips.

“Indeed, how very – pathetic….” A voice identical to Glock’s stated. Identical, but yet sending shivers of revulsion through Charge as the door fully opened, exposing him to true horror…..

He was forcibly pushed out of the elevator by his captors. The floor had been cleared of the office dividers that humans had once filled it with. Now, the pale red light of the faded sun flowed freely across the space. The red dance of it glancing off of many chassis’….

He scanned with his optics as he was dragged through, taking it all in. Along one entire wall was a row of cubes stacked floor to ceiling. Cubes which appeared to be four foot by four foot. They were solid on all sides but the fronts, which appeared to have some type of one-way mirrors as the wall. He assumed that this was what they were, since he could see inside each of them. Most of them held a wreck of a clone. All of which had their chest panels removed, exposing them for the sparked clones they were. They did not appear to be able to see out, or even be aware of the outside. Some rocked themselves, muttering as they did so. Others were frantically self-interfacing their ports, desperate for any type of sensory input. Some were feeling around, obvious trying to find a way out in vain. Yet others were catatonic, their empty optics staring at nothingness as they sat curled up and listless.

Even through his rage, terror struck his core deep inside. For there were at least three dozen sparked clones trapped in the cubes. And all of them were members of just two different model classes: Starscream clones and Optimus Prime clones.

Peeling his optics from the cubes, he scanned the rest of the floor. There were many other wrecks of those two particular models crawling around on their knees. As he was pushed through, they begged his captors to fuck them. Pleaded for them to fuck them! Pleaded with them to let them suck them off…. Their optics were as desperate as their voices, it was as if they were more miserable not being raped – than being raped.

He heard many Megatron clone voices then. Tearing his optics from the wrecks, he focused on what he was being dragged towards. Dozens of Megatron clones milled around. Many had slave wrecks bent over tables, or pinned against walls. Some were fucking the wrecks; others were just abusing the wrecks…. There were also a dozen or more infected Starscream clones as well. Some were submitting to Megatron clones, others were venting their rage onto slaves.

They parted as he was shoved through, their optics turning towards him. Hunger for his life force filling them…. It was obvious they were all either at stage 2, or nearing it.. Every single one of them had a strange twitch here – or a obvious glitch there..

He found himself facing a Megatron clone whom sat on a throne built from the recycled torsos of sparked clones who’d been ripped apart. He knew this, because their sparks still pulsed, attached to the power cores that would keep them pulsing for fifty years. No life – yet still alive… Alive and feeding the insanity of the infected clones who’d destroyed them.

“Well, well, well, it looks like my hordes have brought us a monster,” the Megatron clone purred. He leaned back against his throne, his generals taking their places in the lesser thrones by their ranks.

“You’re the monster – Tron” Charge spat, energon dripped from his lips with every syllable. Though he’d never met the clone; though each Megatron clone appeared identical to another; he was still certain of the original identity of the one he now faced. This clone could be no other than the epitome of evil itself! Everything that had made Megatron-the-mech the menace he was, was amplified in this monstrosity!

The tyrant chuckled, his optics gleaming evilly. “Tron?” He paused for effect, slamming his right hand ruthlessly against his leg in order to stop the annoying twitch which plagued him. “Why I haven’t heard that name in millennia.” His generals snickered as if on cue, baiting the captive.

The bait worked, he lunged against his bonds, his purple optics burning like the molten sun. “Tron - the useless piece-of-slag who was so afraid of a human’s attempt to repair him that he jumped into an icy river to escape!”

“Hmmmm, useless piece-of-slag?” Tron leaned forward, his expression dark and unreadable. “I only see one useless piece-of-slag and that is you. A monster of mixed up models with no soul. The only value of your existence is for our enjoyment.”

Charge ignored the agreeing chuckle from all sides. “I will destroy you for what you’ve done,” he promised.

This got them all roaring in laughter. “Destroy me?” Tron mocked. Standing up, he stepped down from his throne and came towards Charge.

Only to be intercepted by two Optimus wrecks. They threw themselves in front of his peds, begging him to forgive the new slave, take them instead…. The new slave didn’t know better… Forgive him for their failures….

Tron stopped, shooting Charge an evil grin he grabbed one of the wrecks and forced him to his peds. He knew what hurt Prime clones more than pain itself – it was to be the cause of pain to others. “So you wish to take the monstor’s punishment in his stead? So be it.”

Charge was chained to Tron’s throne by his iron collar. His demands for them to stop unnoticed……

Several Megatron Generals grabbed the two wrecks. Dragging them to a table, they bent the pair over it, their afts in direct view of Charge. Orders were yelled, one of the Starscream Commanders ran out. A few minutes later, the door opened, and a monster so grotesque that even Charge felt nauseated strode in.

It was massive. A full eight feet in height, it had to bend over to make it through the door. The main chassis looked to have once been a Motormaster model, but there the identification ended. For arms, it had a mass of mechanized tentacles. It’s face plate a maw of jagged dental plates.

The pair of wrecks who had volunteered to take Charge’s place trembled in fear, but neither one begged to be spared. They allowed their wrists to be secured to the table, as their ankle servos were secured to the floor. They opened their port access panels as the Megatron clones commanded…

Charge lunged against his bonds as he realized what was about to happen. Yelling at them to stop! To take him instead! He was ignored…

In horror he watched as the monster moved to stand in front of the pair. His cable panel opened, revealing not a cable, but a mass of thick mechanical tentacles which rolled out. He forced one down each victims’ throat. Moaning as they frantically sucked… Holding their helms captive by their audios, he forced a second thick cable down their throats, then a third…..

Charge gagged as he watched. He could see the pain in their optics as they were forced to swallow more than they were designed to handle. He screamed for them to stop. Screamed for them to take him instead. He was ignored….

Leaning over the writhing wrecks, the masses of tentacles that were the monster’s arms danced along their chassis’. They snaked along the armor until they circled their aft servos. Feeling along their creamy thigh plates, he found what he was looking for.

He felt a stab in his ports just as the wrecks were impaled by the tentacles. “NO! NO!” He screamed as he pulled so hard against his bonds that his neck began to drip oil. Falling to his knees, he watched helplessly as tentacles buried themselves deeply within the pair.

“Give them more!” Tron snarled. He glanced at Charge, his optics full of pleasure as he saw the anguish on the Prime hybrid’s face plate.

Complying, the monster wiggled one more tentacle into each of their ports. They writhed against their cuffs, unable to scream because of the tentacles stretching their throats.

Tron glanced at Charge again, watching him as he screamed for them to stop. “Why stop them monster?” he purred as he came up and grabbed Charge’s jaw in a ruthless grasp. “You’re merely giving them want they asked for.”

“Stop…. Stop this… Take me – not them!” Charge demanded. Though he was only half a Prime, his sense of morality forced him to keep others safe. It tore him inside to watch this.

“Finish with them!” Tron snarled.

The monster wiggled more and more tentacles into their ports. Pumping them, fucking them without mercy. Oil and energon began to flow freely down their legs from their ports finally ripping apart at the strain. Yet, he added more tentacles, ripping their hip servos apart, fucking them until they moved no more. Finally, he withdrew his tentacles. The wrecks no longer responsive….

Charge thought them dead until the monster released their cuffs and flipped them over. Their sparks still glowed brightly within their torsos. Picking the limp Prime wrecks up, the monster turned and tossed them into empty cubes without so much as a second thought.

Charge’s noose chain was unlocked. Forced to his peds, the clone felt nothing but guilt wash over him as he was forced to the oil-stained table. Though he fought, he was unable to stop them from chaining him in the same manner as the pair. He tensed, readying himself to withstand the same agony.

But instead of the tentacled monster, a Ratchet clone entered. Without a word, the medic strode up to the new slave. Pulling his tools out, he laid them out next to Charge with agonizing slowness. Charge turned his helm and tried his best to spit upon the medic. His words full of threats. The Ratchet clone paid him no head. He was like an inanimate object as far as he was concerned.

Now ready for his work, the medic moved between his ‘patient’s’ legs. Reaching up, his digits swiftly found the seams of the hybrid’s cable access panel. With an efficiency that would make even Prowl take notice, the medic removed the protective armor and forcibly unrolled the limp cable.

“You son-of-a-screw AHHHHHHHHHKKKKKKK!” Screaming, Charge had his cable ruthlessly cut off. He gasped for breath, his meta barely noticing his former part being laid down on the table right next to his helm. Pain raked his core, for all of his most intimate of sensory grids were connected directly to those sensory bundles which were now ripped in two. Hydraulic fluid dripped freely from the now-torn feeder lines.

Seemingly not even the slightest concerned over the welfare of the patient, the Ratchet clone continued his work. Charge felt his port panels being removed, exposing him to whatever they chose to do. He felt the medic slide something into his aft port, spreading him wide. Then sharp daggers of pain were inserted deep inside. Sharp daggers of agony that made the pain from his ripped cable stump seem like a mere knee armor scrape. He screamed again and again as the medic worked. The generals enjoying his cries as they laughed and passed around sodas…

Finally, the medic had done his work. He left him there. His ports burning in such agony that he’d never have imagined possible…. It was hard to think… To process through the pain data load that his networks were driving into his core.

Tron strode up behind him. “Tell us how you want to slag us now monster.”

“Frag you,” Charge groaned weakly, still defiant despite the pain. He could give them no satisfaction. No satisfaction at all. Opie, Scream, Beavis – and all the others – had given in to this evil. They had been weak. They had been broken…. Charge couldn’t allow himself to ever be that weak. Death was preferable!

Tron looked over. Catching sight of the Bumblebee slave who had brought the new hybrid in, he signaled to him. “Slag him. Teach him to beg for us!” he ordered and moved back to his throne, a group of his Generals surrounding him as they discussed orders.

Charge blinked back his tears of agony as the weak yellow one came near. “I will kill…you…. Traitor..” he promised between his gasps.

The small clone chewed on his lower lip, his optics darting from Charge to the Generals and back again. “Masters want you to feel good. I make you feel good!” he promised.

The hybrid growled as the other slave moved between his tied legs. “You… will go to .. hell for this!”

The other slave did not reply. It didn’t matter if he went to hell or not anyways – they were already in hell. Pulling a tube out, he coated his digits with the gel and then put it away. Sliding his hand to the new slave’s cable stump, he rubbed it deep into the torn surfaces. It solidified almost immediately, cutting off the flow of hydraulic fluid as well as signals.

His pain lessened a fraction. For that little compassion, Charge just might let the traitor live after he’d destroyed this place. But he was still in agony. His internals felt like fire raged within. The small tack-like probes that the medic had installed within his ports shot electrical shocks straight into his sensory nodes. He highly doubted that the traitor was charged in taking away THAT torture. No, he knew what had happened to Scream. He now expected the same to happen to him.

He felt a pressure at the rim of his forward port. The little fraggin’ traitor was going to slag him! “I will tear you apart!” he weakly growled as his unready port was forced to accept the yellow one’s cable. He braced himself for the expected increase in agony…

Leaning over his back armor, the Bumblebee slave pulled out and thrust into him again. “Feel good. Masters want us to feel good even though we’re bad clones,” the yellow one whispered. His other hand was on Charge’s aft, digits sliding inside his aft port.

Charge bit down on the table, sinking his dentals in a fraction of an inch. His digits clenched and unclenched as he was helpless to stop the other slave. His meta wavered through the emotions of anger, pain, confusion and – pleasure? His processor cleared for a moment, allowing him to realize that his ports were responding to the intrusion.

“No!” he gasped as he truly understood his plight. When the probes were left alone – they would continuously shock his internal sensory nodes; continuing the slow process of torture so terrible – that most clones would go insane within weeks. But when they were stimulated by pressure – they stopped shocking him. So every time the other slave pulled out, he felt agony – every time the slave thrust back in, he felt pleasure.

His chassis began to tremble with each thrust… Each brief reprieve from the agony… Even as he suffered through it, Charge could understand the brutal effectiveness of it. This was how they broke their slaves in. This is how the altered their base programming – by fragmenting it and replacing it with conditioning. Stubbornly, he refused to allow himself to give into it. Biting his own arm, he growled each time the other reduced his agony… Promising death….

The slagging went on for hours, the Bumblebee slave not getting pleasure out of it himself. He’d been freed of his cable sensors long ago. Now he did the deeds to try and help new slaves get through the initiation process faster. That was his way of trying to help others. He cringed inside every time the hybrid cursed him. He just wanted the new slave to like him. To understand that it was better to comply with demands – than to fight them.

Done with the planning, the Tyrant looked over at the breaking table as his top Generals left to do their assigned duties. The pitiful yellow slave was still slaggin’ the new monster, the new one was still promising death with each thrust. Disgusted with the inefficiency of the Bumblebee clone, Tron roared and leapt off of his throne, grabbing the whimpering yellow clone and throwing him against the far wall.

“Frag you Tron,” Charge gasped as the agony shot through him again. He turned his head enough to glare at the tyrant. “I will destroy you!” For his bravery, his back linkages were ruthlessly smashed as the Megatron clone slammed his cannon down on him with all of his might.

“You will break slave, you all do!” Tron snarled.

Unable to speak through the added pain, Charge couldn’t even lift his helm.

“Starscream IV!” Tron bellowed.

One of his minions ran up to him. “Yes mighty leader?”

“Take this,” Tron slammed his fist into Charge’s helm, breaking off one of his thin audios, “monster. I want him thrown into a cube with his hands chained behind his back. He is to perform ten hour shifts. Just leave him on the breaking table in the main commons for it. Do this for the next month.” Grabbing Charge’s jaw, he jerked him so hard that his neck linkages threatened to snap. “You WILL break!”

“I’ll die first!” Charge weakly replied.

The Starscream clone snickered as Tron strode away. He slapped Charge before he began to unchain and restrain the new slave in the manner that had been ordered. “Slaves only die – when WE say they do!”

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Note: Ok, reallllllll long chapter! For those of you who wanted to see the Bumblebee clone, the now-sparked still-infected Grapple clone and the Frenzy clone again, I designed this chapter just for you! Hope it answered some questions.

Please leave a review… I do enjoy the ideas you all give me.
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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)