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“B-127?”
“That’s me!” The yellow bot cheers. The door behind him slides shut, automatically locking for privacy.
Ratchet eyes the bot carefully before motioning to the counter. “I’ll have you sit here.”
“Okay!” B-127 happily hops up on the counter, kicking his legs as he speaks. “I’ve never done one of these medical exam things before! They kept switching levels on me when I was closer to the surface and then when I hit sub level 50 I wasn’t allowed to leave and they never brought a doctor in to see me so I never realized this was even a thing until Or- uh, Optimus- told me about them and then he seemed really nervous that I hadn’t ever had one and marched me straight here!”
Ratchet soaks in his words. “Interesting. I had never heard of sub level 50 before.”
“Most people haven’t, it’s not a very good place to be, but I made friends even still! You just have to make the best of the situation!”
“And how long we’re you down there?”
“Forever!” B-127 cries. “Well, it felt like it anyway. My memories of the days near level one is pretty hazy, so Optimus suggested I was probably down there for quite a long time. I was only a few cycles old before I got stuck down there, I think. I’m not sure. It just didn’t feel like much time had passed before they sent me to level 50, and then time in level 50 seemed to crawl forever and ever and ever and ever and-“
“I get the picture.” Ratchet tapped his fingers on the counter. It wasn’t often an opportunity like this handed itself to him so easily. “We’ll start simple. I’m going to check your height, weight, frame type and do a few physical tests regarding ball joint rotation, spark activity, vent intake, and other similar tasks.”
“Okay!” B-127 said. “Whatever you say, doc! What do you need me to do?”
The check up goes smoothly. Ratchet is perhaps a bit more hands on than he usually is with his patients, fussing B-127 into the proper position, hands brushing against his protoform, his sensitive horns, his cute little aft. B-127 doesn’t seem to find it odd, doesn’t say a word about it, and continues to chatter aimlessly as Ratchet works.
“I’m going to need you to open your chest plate,” Ratchet states. “I have a spark evaluation to complete, and it’s much easier to do when the plate is open.”
It isn’t true. But B-127 doesn’t question him and opens up his chest compartment, showing off his spark casing nestled just below a pair of fuel sacks. Ratchet hums and makes a note on his chart. “I wasn’t aware you possessed fuel sacks.”
“Hm? These things?” B-127 idly pokes one. “Is there something wrong with them?”
“Likely not. They’re just not common. I’ll need to run a physical exam on them after I check your spark.” It takes quite a bit of will power to ignore the fuel sacks and focus on his spark rate. All seemed in order, and he set his instrument down, eyeing B-127’s sacks. “I’m going to test for potential lumps- which usually indicate disease- and for sensitivity and lactation ability. Stay still.”
Ratchet grabs his left one first, running his hand all over the wide expanse of his sack. B-127 jolts at the sensation, fingers gripping the counter edge. Ratchet rubs a thumb against the nozzle, watching it perk to attention, and B-127 shivers. “Oh! That feels... good!”
“Promising.” Ratchet continues to knead at the protoform for a bit longer, fondling the larger than average sack, teasing the cute little nozzle. A few drops of energon leak from his nozzle, B-127 letting out a little squeak as Ratchet leans down, licking up the beads of ambrosia. “Average consistency and taste. Let’s check the other one.”
Ratchet begins to fondle the other energon sack, noting its weight and size in his hand, feeling the softness of it as he performs his ministrations. B-127 squirms beneath his touch, focused only on the stimulation, too surprised and confused to aimlessly chatter, it seemed. Ratchet licks up the energon he produced and makes a few fake notes on his chart.
“Are my sacks normal?” B-127 asks, peering down at them thoughtfully.
“Yes, they were in very good condition.” Ratchet places a hand on his helm, tilting him slightly. “Now to test your horns. I see you have them pinned back?”
“Well... it’s been nice hanging out at the top level again, but it’s really noisy all the time, and I’m not so used to it after living in sub level 50...”
“I understand.” He coaxed the horn to a standing position. Then, he begins to stroke, and B-127’s vent stutters. He glided his hand across the sensitive nerves, forming a tight pocket of heat and friction to slide against, moving faster and faster. B-127 squirmed beneath him, body shuddering as he moved to touch his other horn, stimulating the nerves, and listening to B-127 pant.
“Very good,” Ratchet praises, and B-127 beams at him. “It seems your sensory horns are in working order. Now, for the very last part of this check up, I’ll need you to remove your interface paneling.”
B-127 slowly tilts his head. “My what?”
“Your modesty paneling.” Ratchet takes the opportunity to gently knock on B-127’s crotch. “Please open this so I can have access.”
“Oh! I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know it could open.” B-127 took a few moments, clearly trying to find the correct instruction, before the panel finally slid away, revealing an already lubricating valve and a leaking spike.
B-127 appeared alarmed. “Is it supposed to be doing that? I was feeling something kind of hot and weird in that area when you were touching my sacks and my horn, is that normal?”
“It’s very normal,” Ratchet soothes. “Tell me, have you ever interfaced before?”
B-127 frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s when two bots use their interfacing organs to pleasure each other.”
“I’ve never done that before!”
“I see. Then you must still be sealed.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a seal inside a bot’s valve. It’s typically broken when they exceed sexual maturity. If a bot has it for too long, it can cause health problems.” That isn’t true. It’s perfectly harmless, simply meant to keep things out until a bot is ready to reproduce. “I’m afraid I’m going to recommend removing it as soon as possible. We can do it today.”
“Oh, okay!” B-127 nods.
“Good. This will give me the opportunity to ensure all of your equipment is in order. Let’s start with your spike first before we move to your valve and remove the seal.”
Ratchet spreads B-127’s legs, allowing him a better view of his spike. It’s small even for a minibot, and already leaking from the stimulation Ratchet had given earlier. It wouldn’t take much to send him on an overload, which is ideal. Ratchet is far more interested in that pretty, pulsing valve he spies, drooling lubricant on his counter.
Ratchet slides his fingers downwards, scooping some of B-127’s lubricant and coating his fingers with it. B-127 shudders from his touch, leaning into his, the mesh folds of his valve teasing him as he reluctantly pulls away. He covers his small spike with some fluid before he begins to stroke, cupping the spike in his hand, building friction as he moves faster and faster.
B-127’s thighs quiver, a moan spilling from his mouth as he unconsciously rocks back into his hand. “Ratchet, this feels really weird. I feel really warm and, and... tingly!”
“Good,” Ratchet says. “You’re doing very good, then.”
The praise seems to be enough to send B-127 over the edge. His overload is fast and hard, transfluid dripping from his hand when he pulls away. B-127 slumps against the wall of the counter, loose limbed and breathless. “Was that normal?”
Ratchet licks the transfluid from his fingers. “Very normal. You’re doing a great job, B-127. Now is time for me to make sure your valve is in working order, and to remove that seal.”
Ratchet unlocks his own modesty paneling. B-127’s eyes are wide at the sight. “Wow! You’re so big!”
That was a bit of an ego booster. Ratchet smirks before pulling Bumblebee closer to the edge of the counter. He was at the perfect height for Ratchet to simply sink into, and damn it all if it wasn’t tempting to simply slide inside and start pounding away.
Instead, he presses two fingers inside of B-127’s valve, slowly inching inside until he was knuckle deep. B-127 shifted, keeping his legs spread and watching Ratchet’s hand with curiosity. His wide eyes were so adorable.
Ratchet began to move his fingers back and forth, back and forth, trying to stretch B-127’s calipers. B-127’s thighs began to quiver, a quiet keen jumping from his mouth as Ratchet added another finger. While he finger fucked his valve, Ratchet used another hand to fondle his cute sacks, pinching and pulling at the nozzle. B-127 arched his back, grinding instinctually against Ratchet’s hand, groaning. “This feels weird...”
Ratchet pushes his fingers deeper inside and presses against his interior node, causing B-127’s to cry out. His thighs squeeze shut, tension causing his frame to go taut as he moaned, Ratchet continuing to fondle his sack hard enough to leave bruises in the morning. “R-Ratchet-!”
“Don’t worry,” Ratchet coos. “It’s okay.”
Finally, Ratchet hits the seal, and B-127 jolts from the sensation. He lets himself thrust into him a few more times before pulling his fingers back out, licking the lubricant dripping down his knuckles. “Lean back for me and keep those legs spread.”
B-127 does as asked, leaning against the wall and spreading his legs invitingly. Ratchet takes a moment to just appreciate the sight before him, a pretty little minibot presenting himself, a puffy valve leaking lubricant, B-127’s flushed face, bright blue cheeks and dimmed optics. Ratchet thanks Primus he’s the first one to get a taste of such a beautiful creature.
Ratchet guides his spike towards B-127’s valve, B-127’s curious eyes watching his every move. He looks as if he’s about to ask a question, but the only sounds Ratchet really wants to hear from him at the moment are his moans, so he presses inside fast, forcing his spike inside that tight little valve.
“R-Ratchet,” B-127 cries. “I don’t think I like this!”
“It’ll feel really good soon. Be good and stay calm for me.”
Ratchet pushes in, no longer taking his sweet time. He’s a medic, he knows he should be taking it slow, but his valve is just so tight and wet it makes Ratchet want to pound into him. He shoves his way as deep as he can manage, teasing the interior node inside B-127, making him gasp, before he pulls out. He teases his exterior node as he pushes back inside, fondling the bud as he begins to piston inside.
“Too much,” B-127 whines. “Ratchet, it’s too big, I can’t-“
His calipers must be stretched to their maximum capacity. B-127 is a minibot, after all- the size difference between them is nearly ridiculous. It only makes him that much of a better fuck, so small, fragile, and so deliciously tight. Ratchet has no intention of tearing, but there’s no doubt in his mind that this likely hurts.
“It’s all apart of the procedure,” Ratchet soothes.
His spike hits the seal inside B-127 hard and fast. He increases his speed, hips smacking against B-127’s as he spreads his legs even further to reach as deep as possible. B-127 begins to cry, optic fluid spilling down his cheeks as his valve is beaten.
There’s gentler ways to do this, and more professional, too. But Ratchet has missed fucking a virgin valve, and has lost all patience trying to be gentle or kind. He hits the valve over and over again, striking B-127’s interior node while he continues to play with his exterior node. Ratchet begins to fondle his fat sacks again with his free hand, tweaking his nozzle, pinching and pulling the hard little nub as he bucked his hips over and over.
B-127 squealed as he overloaded, his valve tightening so fast and hard Ratchet nearly overloaded right then. Transfluid coated their thighs as B-127 squirted, sobbing as Ratchet moved a hand to stroke B-127’s sensory horn.
The seal inside B-127 finally snaps. B-127 cries out again from the pain as Ratchet fucks him right through it, pushing his spike deeper inside, threatening to hit his gestation tank. Ratchet marvels at the feeling, his valve getting tighter and tighter, and excitedly pounds into him, losing control over his rhythm.
He fondles B-127’s other sack as he pushes deeper inside, B-127 crying softly as he fucks him. He’s no doubt overstimulated, wrung out from his first ever overload, and of course the pain of his seal snapping and having a bot twice his size stick their spike inside his virgin valve isn’t helping. But Ratchet is too far into this to stop, too enamored with the tight, wet cavern he’s fucking into, and only fucks even harder as B-127 cries.
He’s beautiful like this, sacks and valve on full display, a puffy exterior node, soaked mesh folds, pert nozzles, and that adorable face of his flushed blue, optic fluid spilling down his cheeks, eyes dim and glassy. Ratchet doesn’t know how Optimus manages to keep himself from bending this shareware over and fucking his little valve over and over until he’s permanently gaping.
Ratchet moves a hand back to his exterior node, another hand still stroking his horns, and B-127 overloaded once more, much weaker but still rather intense, his entire body locking up, his valve clenching tightly. Ratchet meets his peak at the same time, dumping transfluid right into his gestation tank, for a moment lost in the fantasy of a pregnant B-127, fuel sacks fattened, hormones raging, desperate for transfluid donations.
His tight little valve milks his spike for all it’s worth, squeezing him dry as B-127 collapses, completely boneless on the counter. Ratchet flicks one of his nozzles, mourns not being able to play for longer, before finally pulling out, that delicious valve begging him to stay, so tight it was trying to stop him from leaving. Transfluid dripped across the counter top and on to the floor, Ratchet tutting at the mess he’ll need to clean up.
He tilts B-127’s head, cups his cheek. “You did a very good job! And I’m pleased to inform you that your medical check proves you’re completely healthy. You did a very good job, I know breaking a seal can be tough, but you were very brave.”
The praise manages to have tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “That was scary. I didn’t like that.”
“Now that your seal is broken, I’m sure you’ll like interfacing. Now remember, I know you were stuck in sub level 50 for quite some time, so you might not know this, but it’s considered rather taboo to discuss doctor and health visits with other people. Your medical history and needs are considered very private matters. Understood?”
B-127 nods his head. “Oh, I understand. I guess I wouldn’t want to hear someone talk about this.”
“Exactly. Very good, you’re very smart for catching on so quick.” Ratchet moves to close B-127’s modesty paneling, keeping the transfluid inside him nice and secure. He moves to cover his own. “Now, I’m sure that left you very tired. Why don’t you take a nap in my office before you leave?”
“I am tired,” B-127 says, nodding. Ratchet fusses, getting some of the transfluid on his thighs off, cleaning him as he slowly sat up. “Thank you, Ratchet.”
“All in a day’s work. And remember, regular check ups are very important! I expect to see you twice a year.”
Ratchet picks B-127 up, marveling at how small and weightless he feels. B-127 shudders before snuggling in his arms, searching for warmth as Ratchet moved to take him to his office.
What an adorable find. Ratchet can’t wait for the next check up.