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Market Commodity - Recycled	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 1764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers, Hasbro holds all rights - author is not making a dime off of this fanfic

Chapter List
- 3
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Chapter contributed by : Alchemist

Lead by Example Part 1: stSE (now Alchemist)
Part of the Market Commodity Recycled Sagas – G1
Clone characters: Hot Shot - Torch, First Aid – Shaman
Humans: Casey (new owner), June (adult daughter)
Yeah! After several YEARS of writer’s block – I have blot bunnies racing round my head!

The Hot Shot clone looked up briefly as his long time friend and team mate lent a supportive arm to steady him. He locked optics with the First Aid clone as he mumbled “I deserve no assistance,” in a whisper so soft that only the clones nearest to them could hear.
His friend knew that it was pointless to reply, not to mention that the IRS auction agents had already ordered all of the clones not to speak unless directly answering a human’s question. So instead, he just spoke through his actions. Sliding a hair closer to his damaged friend along with a few of the others they had once served with, he lent more of his support to the weak clone. Again, he wished that the human agents who had impounded them, would allow him to do some necessary repairs. Alas, they had coldly ordered all clones NOT to touch each other or to change anything about their condition. Apparently, this was part of the entire ‘Property impoundment and auction’ rules, so he dared not to argue.
The damaged clone returned his optics to the ground. Though he appreciated the assistance from his former team mates, guilt flowed through every wire in his chassis. It was all HIS fault that they had been impounded. All HIS fault that their former owners had divorced and lost the ambulance and first response company. All HIS and no one else’s. Echoes of his former owner yelling that at him as he beat him mercilessly, still rang in his audios. It was just as clear to him as the sharp pain coming from so many parts of his chassis. Some damage was obvious – while the most horrific injuries were well hidden – behind his face mask and cod piece. The pain was his atonement for his sins that caused the company to go bankrupt. He deserved every wince, every slight gasp that dared to escape what remained of his lips.
None of his soon-to-be former friends actually blamed him in the least. They had all witnessed how he had been forced into the triangle between husband and wife. If not he – then any one of them would’ve been as likely a victim…. A pawn in a human game… They all suspected that the hapless clone would be sold for spare parts. His meta processor was now shattered. He might never be the confident clone he had been built to be. Instead, he would likely be a victim again to human greed. For if he didn’t have bad luck – he’d have no luck at all.
Bidders walked the line of clones. All potential owners. The clones hid their physical support of their damaged friend as the humans strolled by. It was the least they could do. Silently offering what comfort they could to the likely doomed clone.
Hours passed in the hot warehouse. Eventually the clones being called up for their time on the auction block. One-by-one they stumbled over to stand in front of the auctioneer. To turn and move and transform as commanded. For most, bids were good. They generally sold for a few thousand or more, generally half of their blue book value. Each one scanning the crowd with hopeful optics as the auctioneer pointed to the winner, their new owner. Each one hopeful that he would have a better life now as he walked to his new owner.
“Ok, you next,” one of the auction company’s employees said to the damaged Hot Spot clone.
Separating from the supportive arm of his last friend, he tried to stagger forwards. His damaged knee bearing just couldn’t hold his full weight, almost going down, he was saved by the First Aid clone grabbing his arm.
“Sir, permission to help him?” the medic clone asked.
“Can you not make it on your own?” the employee asked.
Unable to talk as the pain from his blown knee ripped through him, the once confident and cheerful clone could do nothing more than weakly shake his head.
“Hmmm, nothing but walking spare parts,” another employee said. He nodded at the helpful First Aid clone, “Yeah, get him up there.”
His mood dark, the Hot Spot clone really didn’t even consciously put one ped in front of another. He didn’t hear the chant of the auctioneer. Didn’t take notice of when his friend dared to speak without permission. His friend begging the crowd that if they bought them both – he could repair the Hot Spot clone. His processor was no longer there. As far as he was concerned, he was truly just walking spare parts. He deserved nothing more. His emotional state caused his processors to crash just as the auctioneer’s gavel went down. He would have crumpled to the floor – had it not been for his friend.
He was barely aware of his friend picking him up and carrying him some distance, whispering that they’d been bought together. All he knew was pain now. All he wished for was the peace of permanent deactivation.
An older woman came up to the First Aid clone. She carried some paperwork in her hand. Knowing this was their new owner, he moved to stand facing her, his long time friend hanging limply in his arms. She looked down at the barely conscious clone with a frown on her face. “He looks a lot more damaged than he did in the ring,” she noted as she ran her fingers along the crumpled armor. “You sure that you can repair him pretty cheap – as you claimed?”
Meeting her eyes, the medic clone nodded. “Yes, master. With the right tools, I can straighten out most of the damage without needing new parts.”
She sighed in resignation as she gently patted the wreck’s facemask as if to get him to come-to. The only response she got was a flickering of his optics. “Well, I’m holding you to that clone.” She moved her hand to the First Aid clone’s arm, “What YOU promised – was the only reason that I bought him. Heck, I could barely afford YOU.” She patted his arm, “At least this droid was dirt cheap,” she said with a chuckle. “Two for one deal – can’t beat that!” Turning around, she nodded for him to follow her.
Leading them through the parking lot, the woman stopped at an older SUV. Opening the rear gate, she put all of the seats down. “Think he’ll fit now,” she told the medic clone as she stepped back.
Gently, he laid his good friend in. His processor beginning to get hopeful that their new life would be a good one. This owner seemed considerate. Their old owner would’ve just had him cram the injured clone into a seat – without regard to if that would cause more damage.
He moved to climb in the back with his patient. She stopped him with a hand, “No, you can ride up front with me.”
“Yes, ma’am” he said as he shut the gate down and obediently walked around to the front passenger seat. Climbing in, he couldn’t help but glance back at his patient. His optics making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, considering his mental and physical state.
His new owner noticed this as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “You know, for a machine, you seem awfully attached to him,” she observed as she buckled her seatbelt.
His faceplate heated up as he struggled to come up with a logical response. As mere industry clones, they had found that their past owners really didn’t seem to want them to have emotions. He didn’t want to potentially piss off their new owner by showing her this side of clones. “Well, um, I’m just doing my job as a medic clone,” he stammered.
“That’s a load of bullshit,” she accused as she locked eyes with him.
Her eyes seemed to see right through him. His hidden lip trembled as he withered under her glare. In his peripheral vision, he noticed that his friend’s optics were unclouding. His friend’s meta obviously now coming fully back online. His friend now conscious and aware of the conversation. He HAD to say the right thing! “Um, I just have to make sure he’s not further damaged during transport. It’ll make it faster, easier and cheaper to repair him for you.”
She actually shifted and turned to face him fully. “Open your face mask,” she ordered.
Now, even more nervous, as he wouldn’t be able to hide his emotions at ALL without his mask, the medic clone complied. He wanted to hide under a rock as long moments passed with her locked in the stare down. No matter how hard he fought it, he couldn’t stop his lower lip from the slightest of trembles.
“Ah-ha I knew it!” she roared triumphantly, a large smile covering her previously stern face.
He scanned her face, unsure of what she now knew. Unsure of how to react. She was so different from his former owners.
She held out her hands, palm side up. “Give me your hands,” she ordered.
As he obeyed, he couldn’t help but shiver as her fingers curled around his and rubbed affectionately. No human had ever held hands with him in this way. He had only held a human’s hand when he was treating them as a paramedic. That was generally to keep them still for the IV to be placed.
“Do you even have a name?” she asked him. Her sharp eyes noting the slightest reaction to her familiar touch.
“No, ma’am,” he admitted sadly. His chassis now threatened to start humming in reactionary pleasure to her continued finger rubbing. Was she going to force him into a physical relationship? Similar to the one that his poor friend had endured? He didn’t want to be a party to a love triangle too! He couldn’t help but to glance down at her hands. Humans wore rings if they were taken. Did she have a wedding ring on?!?!
“Look at me,” she ordered, her voice much softer than it had been.
His processor plummeted as he recognized the type of ring that she wore. She WAS married! If she forced him to be party to a love triangle, it would end up the same way his friend’s mishap had ended! Yet, he was property. If she chose to use him in that way, he had no say in the matter. Hiding the darkness now overtaking him, he met her eyes. “Ma’am?” he asked politely.
“Listen, I’ve been around a couple of clones, I know damned well that you HAVE emotions.” Her hands slid almost sensuously along his palms. “I also know that to be without names, seems to be one of the worse things that can happen to a clone. Well, as far as clone opinions seem to go. So, we need to change that immediately – wouldn’t you agree?” she actually winked at him.
He actually groaned inside. The first thing that had happened when his friend had been chosen for an affair – was the woman giving him an unofficial nickname. He glanced towards his friend, whose now-clear optics met his. Despair plainly visible. Swallowing hard, he looked back to her eyes. She was their owner now, he would have no choice. “Yes ma’am, I agree.”
“Hmmmm, now let me think for a minute,” her hands slid up and down his lower arms as she thought. The nervous medic clone wishing he could bolt out of there, yet knowing he was just as trapped as his friend had once been.
“Since you obviously have a serious urge to be a healer,” she nodded back at the prone form of the Hot Spot clone to make her point, “Your name will be Shaman.” The syllables rolled off of her tongue, making the name sound exotic to both of their audios.
“Yes ma’am, my name is now Shaman,” he replied. Forcing a smile on his bare face plate, he sought to hide the darkness now encroaching upon him. The way she looked at his chassis… In his core he was certain that she was planning to use him for far more than a simple repair bot.
Turning further in her seat, she pulled her hands from his and touched the Hot Spot clone’s helm. Noticing that his optics were now glowing brightly and tracking her movements, she gave an approving smile. Leaning her seat back, she and the damaged clone studied each other. “I see you’re back with us now, good.”
He mumbled “yes, ma’am,” in a quiet voice. Uncertainty clear in his tone.
“So I assume that you also were never given a real name?” she queried. Her hands now lightly exploring the dents and burned off paint that was plainly evident on the right side of his helm.
Not counting the nickname that his former lover had given him, he nodded in reply.
“Hmmmm, well let me see your face. See if you’re as cute as Shaman is,” she ordered with a lighthearted pat on the First Aid clone’s hand.
Both clones silently groaned inside. He had been hiding the extreme damage that his enraged former owner had wrought upon him, with his face mask. How would she react? Yet, he didn’t dare disobey her. Owners got mad when a clone disobeyed orders. Though, would she get mad about his true physical condition? It was a lose-lose situation. Slowly, his face mask retracted into the sides of his helm. Revealing the fact that the right side of his lower face had had all of the covering alloy ‘skin’ burned off, leaving his internal structures or ‘bones’ plainly visible.
The woman gasped in shock. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed as she instinctively pulled away from him.
He looked away, mineral oil tears in his optics. This disfigurement was his curse. His reminder that he was nothing but a bad clone. A bad clone who didn’t deserve to continue to function. Even his new owner found him repulsive!
She met Shaman’s optics, “What happened to him?” she asked. Leaning back towards the damaged clone, she forced him to turn his face towards her. Her fingers hesitantly touching the damage. “I just didn’t expect this. Does it hurt?”
Somebody honked just as Shaman opened his mouth to begin to explain. Pulling her hands off of the Hot Spot clone, the woman whipped around in her seat and began to fumble with her keys. “Oops, didn’t realize that we were holding up traffic!” she said as she started the SUV. “Tell me everything as we drive. It’s a long drive home.” As she began to back up, she met Shaman’s sapphire orbs “By the way, my name is Casey.” Reaching back with her right hand, she patted the other clone on his helm as she put it into drive. “We’ll figure out a name for you soon, I promise.”
The Hot Spot clone turned his face away from her as he listened to his friend tell his story. Tears dripped onto the interior carpet beneath him, as he was forced to relive his sins. Casey would not allow Shaman to skip over ANY detail. She probed the medic for every salacious detail, every suspected human motive. The once confident and eager leader clone stayed silent as he suffered through those details. His new owner now knew almost everything… Every sin that he had been forced to be a part of… Why he was now so worthless he had basically been a free-be when she had purchased Shaman.
An hour passed before she was finally satisfied that Shaman had told her everything. Every detail and reason behind his fellow clone’s condition and depressed emotional state. “So, you can repair him? Everything will be back to factory specs?” she asked the medic.
He couldn’t lie to her, “Well, mostly.”
“What do you mean by ‘mostly’?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed a bit, telling him that he’d better be straight with her.
“I can get his armor back to factory specs. We can also get a replacement for his cable,” Shaman hoped that she wouldn’t ask for more. But of course – she did.
“And his face plate?” she pressed.
“We can order new alloy and I can graft it on.” His optics glanced back at his friend’s tear stained face. They both knew that he couldn’t lie to her. “But there will always be a slight difference between the graft and his original alloy.”
“So he’ll have a scar? How bad of a scar?” Putting on her blinker, she changed lanes as she waited for the answer. If the scarring wasn’t bad, the Hot Spot clone would still be the more handsome of the pair. If it was bad, well…. At least he had that face mask to cover it.
“The scar will just be where the two alloys are in contact. Like a thin line between the two. The larger areas that the graft will cover, will be smooth like his undamaged side.” He was hopeful that would be good enough for her approval.
Pulling into her driveway, Casey nodded. “Ok, I can handle that.”
Both clones felt the warm ray of hope flow through them. At least Shaman could please her with his abilities as a medic. Taking her lead, the medic helped his patient get out of the SUV and hobble as they followed her into the house. It was a nicely kept middle class house, with flowers and gardens lining the long path. Inside, it was very neat and tidy. Pictures of Casey with a man appearing to be her age as well as pictures of a large family and a much younger Casey – were on every wall.
“Make him comfortable on the brown couch, we’ll sit on the crème couch,” she told Shaman as she walked off towards the kitchen.
They heard her opening and closing the fridge, as Shaman helped the damaged clone onto the specified couch. Propping his torso up with a pillow, and placing a pillow under his damaged knee servo, they got him situated in a semi-reclined position. Shaman also used a tissue to clean off the tear stains from the undamaged half of his friend’s face plate. “Thanks,” the Hot Spot clone whispered to him. His mood a little lighter now that his new owner seemed pleased that eventually he’d be repaired back to almost factory specs.
“All those times you saved my aft, I owe you,” Shaman whispered back with a wink. He knew his friend’s confidence was shattered, but maybe – just maybe, that could be healed as well? He sure hoped so. He missed his energetic, enthusiastic leader.
Before he could reply, Casey strolled back in. Shaman immediately hopped to sit on the couch she had ordered him on. She glanced from clone to clone, her hands holding two Dr Peppers. “Here, I’ve heard that clones love these,” she explained as she handed a bottle to each one.
They stared down at the bottles, unsure of what she expected them to do with them.
“You sip them,” she said as she noticed their confusion. Opening the rootbeer she held, she modeled how to complete the task for the two clones. They followed her example, both of them getting very surprised looks on their faceplates at the shock of the flavors rolling across their glossas.
No one considered the fact that the poor Hot Spot clone had some physical issues with drinking fluids considering half of his mouth was nothing but bare endostructure. Dr. Pepper drooled out this side. His surprised expression at the taste, quickly changed to one of incredible disbelief and shame about making the mess.
“Well damn! Let me get you a towel!” Casey exclaimed as she ran towards the kitchen. She muttered loudly to herself, obviously blaming herself for not thinking about his limitations.
Shaman grabbed the towel as she flew back in, and proceeded to clean up his patient. It was his job to take care of his friend. He had promised as such during the auction. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he apologized to him.
“Maybe he should angle his head so that his good side is lower?” Casey offered as she sat back down.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Shaman agreed. He smiled at his downcast friend. “Hey, cheer up. She’s not mad at you.”
The Hot Spot clone still looked glum as he stared at his bottle. Tipping his head so that his good side was lower, he found that he could take very tiny sips and not make a mess. Frustration and despair threatened to overwhelm him again. Would life ever be good?
“Such a sad droid,” Casey commented. Leaning forward, she tapped the Hot Spot clone on his ped that was near her. “Would getting a real name cheer you up a bit?”
He dared to meet her eyes and gave her a slow nod, concentrating hard on not having any soda spill out through his ruined mouth.
“What’s his alt mode?” she asked Shaman.
“An ATV type fire control tanker,” the medic replied. The humans had redesigned some of the clones to have more useful alt modes than go cart versions of the vehicles that their mechs transformed into. He himself was an ATV type search vehicle.
“Hmmm, I know a few gardeners that will definitely want to pay for your services then – once you’re fixed!” Casey complimented with a wink at the quiet clone. “So let me think on it.”
An almost smile curled the undamaged side of the Hotspot clone’s lips. Even though he was nothing but a damaged free-be to his new owner, she found some value in him. He promised himself he’d do the best job for those nameless gardeners, absolutely the best job he could do! His mood brightened more as he took another small, careful sip of the prized Dr Pepper. His optics meeting those of Shaman, his dearest friend, without whom – he wouldn’t have this second chance.
Warmth flew over the First Aid clone as his friend’s orbs silently locked with his. They were now bright, clearly indicating the clone emotion of happiness. His own chassis responded with a low hum of pleasure. Then suddenly, he froze as a human hand slid onto his thigh plating. The hum shutting down in a startled choke of his intakes. Apprehension flowed over him as the specter of being forced into a love triangle between man and wife – fell over him.
Casey giggled at his reaction, not realizing what it truly was. “Oh, you’re such a cutie pie Shaman!” Leaning towards him, she made it obvious that she expected a kiss……
RING RING DE DEA DONG! RING RING DE DEA DONG! Her cell phone ringtone went off, giving the poor Medic clone a moment of relief as her attention was distracted away from him – to finding the dratted noisy thing. “Hello June,” she answered. The clones couldn’t make out what the caller said on the other end. However, what Casey said next, caused warmth to spread through both clones. “Why, yes, I bought a medic clone at the Auction! I told you I would! Now will you quit worrying about me living alone? Jesus Christ!”
With those words, their world grew bright again. There was no husband now. No love triangle possible. The clones locked optics in silent understanding. Shaman even daring to slowly slide his hand over the hand Casey still had on his thigh plating. He curled his digits around hers in silent acceptance of being whatever she wanted him to be.
The Hot Spot clone actually smiled for the first time in months. He was so happy for his friend! His friend could now have what all industrial clones desired – human companionship. Companionship without the fear and the sneaking around that he himself had had to endure during the love triangle. Taking a bigger sip of the Dr Pepper, the damaged clone surveyed the living room as he listened in on Casey’s conversation. Their new living situation became clear now. Casey was recently widowed, recently retired, and had a few health problems that were fairly common amongst the older patients that he and his paramedics had dealt with in the past. Nothing that he and Shaman weren’t more than capable of handling. Which is exactly WHY Casey had gone to that auction in the first place. She needed them to maintain her independence – as much as they needed her for a second chance.
Taking another slow sip of his Dr Pepper, the Hot Spot clone contemplated upon this while warmth spread through his circuits as he continued to eavesdrop on her conversation with her adult daughter. Apparently, she didn’t consider him worthless because he had basically been a freebie – she was simply a woman who was thrilled when she got a heck of a deal. She was even bragging about how’d cute he’d be, once he was fixed up, and was even threatening to set up this unseen daughter on a blind date with him.
At that laughing threat, his optics again met Shaman’s. His friend now had a timid smile on his face plate as he winked at him. With great effort, the Hot Spot clone shifted himself to sit a bit more upright. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his crotch and knee, he lifted his chin as his depression continued to lessen. He was now a valued clone, despite his damage and history, a clone his new owner already took pride in. For clones, to be valued was a mainstay of their self worth. In the space of just thirty minutes, Casey had completely changed how he felt about himself. He silently swore that IF she did indeed set him up on a future blind date with this daughter of hers, he’d damn well make sure it was the best blind date she’d ever had!
Shaman squeezed her hand as he too eavesdropped on her conversation. He watched as his friend’s shattered meta processor seemed to repair itself at every joking threat about clone dates and other human-clone activities – shot between mother and adult daughter. His own emotions also now changed to those of happiness and excitement over their new life. Shifting, he dared to put more of his side in contact with his new owner as she laughed and joked on the phone. A new owner whom most definitely planned on also being his lover.
The Hot Spot clone gave a slight nod of approval as he noticed his friend shifting to sit closer to Casey. Shaman didn’t yet have the pleasure programming that he had, but he suspected that would likely be remedied before nightfall. Shaman was going to have a busy night it seemed – from what Casey was laughing about with her daughter.
Casey turned her eyes to him as she talked, “Yes, he’s one of those Hot Spot clones. You got that pulled up yet? Ok, so what do you think?” she paused as her daughter spoke on the other end. Her eyes noting that he now wasn’t afraid to meet her eyes. “Hmmmm, no, I don’t like that name. What’s your second choice?”
So she was letting this unseen daughter give him a name, based purely on his model specs that she was looking at online? He was fine with that. Since apparently, he was going to be taking her out the next time she was in town to visit.
“Torch? Hmmm, how do you like that name?” Casey asked him.
Like he was going to argue with any real designation that his owner decided to bestow on him? Not likely! He smiled and nodded that he indeed liked that designation.
“Ok, he likes it! Torch it is then!” Casey announced to her daughter. “Now, you know if I die – they’re going to be yours, right? I mean if you’re still single, might as well have two ‘men’ to satisfy you!” She laughed hysterically as her daughter exclaimed something over the phone.
Little did she realize, that because she said it in their presence, both clones immediately logged that into their meta processors as fact. They would remain together. Meeting each other’s optics, they smiled.
-----------------
Later on, after Casey downloaded the pleasure programming into Shaman……
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“Bring him down here,” Casey said as she opened a door. Torch struggled to walk down the stairs after her, with Shaman helping him on one side. She flipped a light on as she reached the bottom of the stairs. It was obviously the garage. “Let me clear off the work bench. It’s plenty big enough for him,” she said as she disappeared around the corner.
They could hear the clatter of metal tools as they slowly made their way down the stairs. “Looks like we’ll be getting your knee fixed today,” Shaman said in his quiet voice. “I’ll patch up what I can elsewhere, until the parts come in.”
Torch nodded in agreement and gave his helpful friend a warm smile. “It’s all thanks to you – that I’m even getting a second chance,” he whispered back. His voice filled with gratitude – even as he grunted with effort at getting down stairs on his one working leg.
Shaman returned his smile, “I’m just glad that SHE bought us!” he declared. His friend nodding in agreement.
They got to the bottom and rounded the corner, and were met with every repair bot’s dream – a fully stocked mechanical workshop! The entire two car garage was packed with well organized tools and tool cabinets. Row upon row of labeled plastic bins lined the shelves. Saws and drills lined up neatly. Well, except for where Casey had unceremoniously dumped everything off of the biggest work bench in the room. Shaman actually cringed at the pile of tools now heaped next to it on the floor.
“Put him up here,” she said with a pat on the heavy wood top. “This was Harry’s man cave. Guess it’s your man cave now!” she joked with a pat on Shaman’s arm.
He nodded as he helped his patient up on the table. He had his own workshop now. Life was good!
It turned out, that while Casey wasn’t good at repairing anything mechanical, she did make a fine assistant. She used to help her husband work on cars and lawn mowers, so knew the name and location of every tool Shaman asked for. Soon, Shaman had Torch’s knee repaired.
After Torch walked around to test the repair, Casey noticed him cringe as if in pain. “What’s wrong?” she asked with a concerned touch on his arm.
Torch looked away in slight embarrassment, not wanting to discuss the hidden damage with her. True, she kind’ve knew about it since Shaman had told her about the beating he had endured, but he hadn’t gone into detail about ALL of the damage.
“Um, well, he still has the damage to his interface systems,” Shaman explained as he guided his patient to sit back down on the work bench.
“Oh, the parts we need to order – along with fixing his face?” Casey asked. “So can you do anything to make him feel better in the meantime?”
The medic nodded. “I’m just going to disconnect and remove the damaged parts. He’ll just feel numb there until replacement arrives,” he explained to both her and his patient. He paused before asking Torch for access, and glanced at her “You may not want to see this. It’s pretty damaged.”
Setting her hand on Torch’s newly repaired knee, she nodded for Shaman to get on with the repair. “I helped Harry with everything – so I’ll help you too.”
He sighed as he briefly met Torch’s optics. They had both hoped to hide some of the damage from her. But it was fruitless – she wasn’t going to leave. With a click and hiss, Torch leaned back against the wall and commanded his codpiece to retract.
Her quick intake of breath at the sight of what his former owner had done to him, exposed her shock at it. She reached for his hand, “Oh you poor thang…” she whispered.
Accepting her comforting squeeze, Torch gasped as Shaman went to work. Throughout the disconnection and removal, he stayed stoically still and silent, though the choking of his engine belied how much agony he was in. Then finally, disconnection was complete, and all he felt was blessed numbness where his cable used to be. He relaxed and sagged against the wall in total relief.
Casey fingered the removed part, which was unrecognizable as the cable it once was. “You poor poor thang…” she whispered again. “You must’ve been in total agony all this time…”
Torch nodded as he watched Shaman throw it in the trash can. He felt almost normal again. Only the constant pain signals from his damaged face plate bothered him now. Compared to how much pain he HAD been in – that was nothing!
Casey moved to stand between his spread legs, her fingers now gentle on the sides of his helm. She looked at his horrifically damaged face plate without any revulsion now. “You’ll never be hurt by us again!” she promised as she lightly took what remained of his lips.
His optics opened wide in surprise as she kissed him. From all of her conversations with her daughter as well as Shaman, they had both assumed that she would be taking Shaman as her lover. He was to be put on dates with her daughter when she visited. Though he wasn’t going to argue with her. He was hers to do with as she pleased. There was no husband to get angry. No backlash that Torch would ever have to face again.
Even without a cable, Torch’s interface systems activated. He leaned into her kiss, his pleasure programs forcing him to seek out the affection of an interested human. His still uncovered ports, rubbed against her pants as he circled his arms around her and dared to pull her in tight against him. “Thank you,” he whispered when she finally released his lips. His optics locked with her eyes, the fiery red orbs burning with desire.
Casey was at first a little confused as to why his systems were humming like that as he rubbed his crotch against her. He had no cable – so what the heck?!? Then she felt a wetness that wasn’t HERS. Pulling back in surprise, she looked down and realized that he had exposed slits – right where a woman’s would be. “Oh my, oh my. I totally forgot that you aren’t exactly just guys,” she stammered with a blush on her cheeks. She glanced over at Shaman. “So these, um,” she motioned at the ports, “aren’t damaged?”
He smiled and shook his head, “his ports are just fine.” He explained.
“Um, ok,” she mumbled. At first, she had no clue as to what to do with this now very aroused, but arguably now totally female, clone she had on her hands. She glanced from Torch to Shaman and back, an idea forming in her mind. “Come here Shaman,” she commanded
He came to stand next to them, unsure of what she wanted. As one of her hands wrapped behind him helm, he bent down to kiss her as it was obvious she wanted. She turned to face him fully as they kissed, her buttocks down pressing against Torch’s exposed ports. That clone moaned in desire as he ran his digits down her sides. Shaman felt her fingers rub against his closed codpiece, her demand obvious.
With some clicks and a whirs, his cable rolled out. “Dimensions?” he asked in between kisses. He pressed against her, which further pressed her soft rump against Torch. Torch began to kiss her neck from behind.
“Um, whatever the standard size is I guess,” she responded. Her hand went around it as it expanded, almost as if it were alive. Her eyes darted from Shaman’s to Torch’s and back. “Kiss him,” she ordered Shaman.
“Uh, we aren’t programmed to do that,” Shaman stammered in surprise as he looked down on her. His engine racing at the squeeze of her hand around his now taunt cable.
“You’re programmed to do what I find pleasurable – right?” she purred, with a flick of her wrist, she made him about levitate off of the ground. She knew how to work a man, Clones didn’t seem much different.
“Well…yes..” he stuttered.
“I find it erotic to see you two kiss,” she explained. This time, she ground her ass against Torch’s ports, causing him to shiver with building desire. Leaning over her, Torch didn’t argue, he just took Shaman’s lips as ordered. If their single owner desired it – he’d do it!
Shaman and Torch both wondered at the strangeness of kissing another clone. But with Casey teasing them both, their programming easily overwrote itself. Their kiss became deeper, more passionate, as they both let go of any objection to it. This was what their owner desired. A love triangle with them as the two corners. It was perfectly acceptable to them.
Casey kept them on edge with her hands and rump as they kissed. She watched excitedly as their inhibitions seemed to dissipate. Their hands roaming over her, working together to remove her shirt.
As they paused and released each other’s lips, Casey slid out from between them and hoped up on the work bench next to Torch. “Give him what he needs Shaman,” she purred as she pulled him to stand in front of Torch with a firm grip on his ready cable.
“But, our programming forbids it!” Shaman exclaimed, even as he shuddered. She had guided his cable to the entrance of Torch’s dripping forward port.
“He’s right,” Torch murmered even as his entire chassis hummed in need…
Casey smiled patiently, she’d read about this programming on facebook, and how to basically hack it. Reaching down, she gently grabbed one of Torch’s hands. “But you NEED this!” she urged as she guided him to wrap his digits around Shaman’s cable. Taking his lips, she forced him to stroke the other as she distracted his meta.
His programming still so new at this entire interface thing, Shaman couldn’t even utter a denial as his chassis was raked by oh so wonderful sensations from the slow glide of two beings hands on his sensitive cable. His hands locked on Torch’s knees to keep him standing, as he leaned his head back in a shuddering sigh of pure bliss. Soft moans escaped his parted lips with each slow stroke of their hands.
Once she’d gotten Torch to firmly take over from her on Shaman’s cable, she slid her now free hand down to his forward port. Slipping two fingers boldly inside, she felt Torch stiffen at first, before relaxing back into her kiss. Made sense that he’d likely never used his ports – after the story of the affair he’d been part of. Wiggling her fingers, she enjoyed how she now controlled his entire chassis. She released his lips, and couldn’t help but grin as he thumped back against the wall, moaning in need as her fingers danced within. Since she was on his left side, his damaged side wasn’t visible to her, and he looked oh so sexy. His optic shutters half closed, his handsome façade overcome with pleasure.
Turning to her other side, she nibbled on Shaman’s neck linkages as he trembled in want. “His hand feels so good,” she whispered in between nips. “Feel how ready he is…” Peeling one of his hands off of Torch’s knee servos, she guided his digits into the tight wetness.
As thin fingers were replaced by thick clone digits, Torch banged his helm back against the wall and spread his legs wider. “Sh-a-m-a-n…” he moaned in abandon. His meta pushed past the restrictions. His chassis now longing for the cable in his hand – to fill him.
“B-but.. “ Shaman tried to deny, his meta trying to battle his programming. Casey pulled her hands out from between them just in time, as Torch suddenly pulled his hand free, wrapped both arms around Shaman’s hip joints, and with a smooth motion, slammed their chassis tightly together.
Shaman suddenly shut down, his meta overcome by both the crashing of internal programs and the incredible sensations of Torch now engulfing his virgin cable.
Torch held his friend’s chassis tightly against him. Not allowing him to slide away. Not willing to release that wonderful cable now filling his need. He panted for oxygen as his cooling fans clicked on. Since he was no newbie when it came to human-clone interface, he had built up plenty of stamina. His former lover had always demanded excessively long performances. As he cooled down, his ruby orbs met those of his new owner.
She touched the good side of his face plate, a sly smile on her own. “You have dramatically changed in temperament – over just a few hours,” she noted.
Holding his unconscious friend up with his legs and other arm wrapped around him, Torch boldly lifted his now free hand and copied her actions. He tucked one of her stray hairs back behind her ear. “I needed someone to give me a reason to want to function,” he replied. “You gave me that.” With that, he took her lips, commanding her as he had learned to command others.
Shaman moaned as he slowly rebooted, his cable streaming data loads into his unready meta. “Mmmmm, god!” he mumbled as he nuzzled against Torch’s shoulder plate. His optics brightened, the vision of Torch and Casey lip locked coming into focus. He didn’t move, not wanting to disturb their intimate moment. Every inch of him, more than satisfied to enjoy the tight wet warmth that was his best friend’s port. He was so proud of Torch, as he watched him taking command of their owner’s lips. The bright spark that he had lost – now relit by the kindness of the woman.
Feeling Shaman was now able to stand on his own, Torch released his grip. Leaning back against the wall, he pulled Casey down across his hood. “Slag me slow,” he murmured to Shaman before taking her lips again.
With a grin full of pride, Shaman obliged. Slowly pulling out and pushing back in as he shook with the effort to control himself. It felt so so good! But he didn’t want to overload so quickly again. They should both savor this intimacy with their new owner. Savor every delicious moment! Reaching out, he added his hands to Torch’s on her.
After a good twenty minutes of this, Shaman’s core temperature began to shoot up again. “Stop!” Torch ordered as he felt Shaman approaching climax again. His friend obeyed, panting with the effort. Reaching over Casey, the Hot Spot clone caressed the First Aid clone’s chest plates. “It takes practice to build endurance,” he explained with a wink. “You’ve got to stop before you climax to get there.”
“Th-thanks,” Shaman stammered, his chassis so hot, he felt like he might melt. That tight port beckoned him to ram it with swift abandon, yet he resisted.
Leaning across Torch’s hood, Casey rolled on to her side to look up at him. “He’s teaching you right,” she grinned. Allowing Shaman to add his soft hands to those of Torch upon her bared chest, she grabbed one of his hands, and teasingly sucked each of his digits with a sly look in her eyes. By the time she got to his last digit, she watched triumphantly as his optics rolled up in overload and he slid to the floor with a bang.
“Now THAT wasn’t nice…” Torch chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her and swiftly flipped their positions. She found herself sitting on the work bench with a clone holding her down. “You are an evil tease of a woman,” he said in a low masculine voice as he nipped at her bare skin. His first lover had pulled stunts like that, he was very familiar with the technique.
“And just what are you going to do about it?” she said in an innocent tone as she bucked her hips against him. As long as she focused on the good side of his face plate – damn was he hot! And obviously pretty experienced in the sack. His dominance was really turning her on.
“Well,” he started as he began to unbutton and pull off her pants, “Since I am currently without a cable, I guess I’ll just have to use my glossa.” He kissed the inside of her now bare thigh. “And we’ll wait until a serviceable cable becomes available again,” he glanced down at Shaman’s still form. Arching an optic ridge, he met her eyes as he slowly settled to his knee plates to start using that glossa. “From the looks of it – it could be a long while before the owner of that cable is back on line….”
She threw her head back as the clone proved to be a true master of his glossa…..
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