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Their prison is a glass tower, he expected no less from the new Magus. Megatron straightens out his back, struts aching from constant sitting. It's not horrific treatment, being in a cell too small to stand in. He can remember when the prison used was an apartment block for the disenfranchised Decepticons. He can hear Lugnut's back scraping against the ceiling and wall.
Like a common cyberanimal zoo they're open to the public. Together the Decepticons have endured endless observation, attended by natives and aliens alike. The camera flashes barely wake his consciousness, Megatron's attention has shrunken down to a pinprick. For the last few days his energon has not sat well, the Decepticon leader muses over what common prison disease has infected him. Indulgently the large bot wonders if the Autobots will ever stop trying to convert his people. Again, the creak comes against his thickly armored midsection. The worst of the damage was repaired before their transfer to the Kaon prison, but the cracks and scratches have persisted not just from neglect.
When the solar cycle crawls to its end, crowds are ushered away and the guards emerge. Medical bots check in on their captured Decepticon exhibits with an expert eye. With great mercy he's left without an optic on him for a few precious moments. It's short lived. Megatron grits his teeth as a medical bot beams over one unimpressive, cracked, corroded leg. The bot does a quick scan over the rest of Megatron, then looks at their feed. They never speak in his presence, the bot has that lingering ache of hunger settling deep in his fuel lines. When he's given his ration, Megatron notes that it is simply not enough anymore. Craving heavy metal laced energon is hell.
Deca-cycles later and Megatron has not been freed, not for lack of Decepticon forces trying. There have been at least two rescue attempts, with various numbers joining their stay in this marvelous Autobot pleasure suite. Megatron wonders of Shockwave's mental state whenever the bot's soft murmuring reaches through the walls. The torture will continue, it's no secret to him or his men. There are always abductions, every few mega-cycles the silver bot would wait for his own delivery. The door to his room will open and a bot would lead him into an interrogation room, it has happened at least once a deca-cycle. Perhaps worse than the interrogation room were the visits to a solitary cell that had logging disabled. Megatron detests those excursions, his optics forced offline by whatever bot was handling him.
Thankfully whoever was arranging these meetings would at least clean off his thighs, shut his interface panels and send him back into his cell. Valve full of nanites or worse. Megatron always suppresses a shudder at the sensation. He would have to interrogate whoever was paired with him for washing.
One solar cycle, just a few cycles after being detained, sore thighs still bent by his autobot captors. Megatron gets called into cleaning along with Lugnut. Last time he'd been with Shockwave, who clarified that they were only allowed together due to an unavoidable part of Autobot law. They got washed every Deca-Cycle, it was a dual purpose affair that allowed him to speak with his fellow Decepticons, get clean, and perhaps listen to their insane outbursts. Denying them any bot to bot contact would have been illegal, but it also dealt with a legal loophole allowing the time to be the extremely short period they were given to bathe.
Speaking of abhorrent, Lugnut has not ceased speaking to his leader since he was freed. The entire trip down the halls had been filled with spirited pleas and praise for his leader. Megatron tilts his head up to look into the face of his adoring cohort. "Enough Lugnut." they've arrived at the Spartan setup. Lugnut has to stoop to step into the recessed, ankle-deep pool of cleanser. The guard bots lock the door behind the Decepticons, the glass walls offering full view of the bathing prisoners. Megatron and Lugnut turn on the sprayers one by one, at highest heat in the front and then unusually warm for the rest. Steam fills the chamber, toxic to bacteria and organics, loving to cybertronian metal.
The rush of fluid rings loud, Megatron leans his back against a wall and eyes his bathing subordinate. "Lugnut."
"Yes my lord?" the metal lug says very loudly.
Megatron cringes inside, "Keep quiet, I have orders for you." the bigger bot tilts his head and drops the bar he'd been rubbing against his chest. Lugnut's wading is slow, he must be sore from staying in that tiny box for too long. "I would not ask this of you, if there was no other choice." already, the sickness has filled Megatron's frame. Deep within his circuitry, Megatron knows that he's carrying a load of sparks in his birthing chamber. If he had been stuck in that cell instead of being allowed to wander, he would not of noticed it so soon. "I have use of your interface abilities."
"But, my lord" Lugnut turns his head from side to side. "what if they see?" on another note, "W-what of General Strika?" Lugnut was at her beck and call, Megatron had arranged that partnership several centuries ago.
"She will understand, this is not personal. This is pivotal to the Deception cause." he holds up a hand, "Pressurize your equipment, and penetrate me. Also hope with all the intensity of your spark that this works." the open, panicked look on Lugnut's face speaks volumes to the monarch. "Have the autobots forced you to copulate as well?"
"No my lord." Lugnut's voice breaks, "I shall obey, I am your most loyal servant. I am honored to-" he's cut off as Megatron's panel slips back. Lugnut felt the familiar tug of longing in his groin as his own retracts to the sight, spreading his legs and kneeling. Megatron tugs Lugnut closer to the wall of the shower, leaning back and spreading his thighs wide. "My lord, you're glorious."
Megatron can't imagine a worse bot to interface with, not that he's ever desired anyone between his legs. The bot's grim outlook does not carry to his face. Lugnut's interface device is a writhing mass of cords that rapidly extends to the length of his thigh. The silver bot handles and directs the appendage between his legs, not minding that its size alone gives off the impression that it would rip his pelvis in two. Initial entry brings pings of pain and incompatibility warnings. "Override all compatibility procedures, extend your fertilization unit."
A confused blurb comes from the hulking bot, "What fertilization unit?"
"Secondary stage CNA delivery. Look under manual override, quickly." he can tell when Lugnut gets it right, there's a rather sharp prick of pain in his valve as a cable is devoted to hooking up to and then injecting a birth chamber directly deploys itself. The stray plug scrapes against his valve walls in shockingly sharp order. There's dozens of warning messages flashing across Megatron's screen, his parent code notifying him that the device inside of his valve is not the correct size, is not in compatibility mode, is not cleared for entry- and that most of all it is endangering his current pregnancy. Megatron feels almost triumphant to see the line supporting his conclusions appear.
Lugnut's hips drive forward in slow motion, Megatron's face stays stoic despite the terrible sensation. Lugnut is nearly fully hilted when the cable automatically jerks and seeks out it's corresponding plug. Within seconds the cable hooks up to Megatron's deeply buried birth chamber. Though they cannot see it, the birth chamber's entrance and Lugnut's secondary stage injection unit have fit together and locked into place. The center of the cable begins to deploy the needle thin tube, rupturing the existing mesh membrane in Megatron's birth chamber. Several tears, hidden by the cleanser drop down his face. One slip could have Lugnut eviscerating many of his important internal components. The sudden voice in his audials startles him out of his thoughts, "My lord, m-may I overload inside of you?" he feels a unique sensation of both complete revulsion and exhausted resignation.
"You may." comes the curt command. Disturbingly, he has no idea why Lugnut would want to overload from unwanted interfacing. The Decepticon leader was unaware of his own, instinctual movements. His valve's been slathering the anomaly with generous globules of lubricant and energon. Moreover, the tarnished leader cannot feel very much from his valve under this stress. Pressurized delivery of cybertronian genetics comes into Megatron, the tight feeling in his pelvic plating increases until it's nearly unbareable.
Lugnut withdraws, pauses and then yanks himself out of conjunction with Megatron's birth chamber. The distinct smell and sight of energon greets him. A distressed whine escapes the massive bot, "My lord, you're bleeding." a cummy mess of energy and fluids are on his member, which quickly retracts into his body.
"It is fine, it's part of my plan. Thank you for your assistance." Megatron's joints feel achy again, he stands under the water and peers at the now murky pool. "Get cleaned up."
Mercifully they do get done before their time is up. Megatron shuts his valve tight and ignores all the internal warnings blaring at him. The daze like trance lasts for the next two solar cycles, a flurry of warnings and painful twinges deep within his birth chamber and spark. His body wants to nurture, not purge. All of his systems are stressed to nearly breaking by the dawn of the third solar cycle.
It's a kid that notices the blood. Next thing, the warden's stopped all traffic and closed off the Decepticon leader's cell. They subdue him with cuffs, lead him down to medical and strap him to a medi-berth for several cycles. The silence comforts Megatron, between the daily hubub and constant babbling of the other prisoners one could rarely find time for quiet.
A medical bot steps in, does a scan of the room with a cheerful tune. "Now, let's see here mister" he leans over, "Hm. Megatron, what an unfortunate name." the med bot's chewing on something, and scans Megatron's body quickly. "Huh, look at that. I think you're on the way to bein a birther." he chuckles. "Ah, any pain?"
"I'm bleeding from my valve." Megatron finds the obtuse ignorance of the war grating.
"Well, shoot." he looks down at the silver horror, "Let's take a closer look." humming, he adjusts his digipad "I understand you're a career criminal of sorts, but do you want to try to keep this batch?"
"They're already dead, doctor."
"What makes you say that?"
"I've been bleeding for two solar cycles."
The doctor rubs his face and groans. "They're gonna shoot me. Open up your panel." he looks down at the bot's protective covering.
Megatron opens obediently.
Immediately, energon pools down the table. The bot shifts his hips and hisses softly. "I've been feeling cramps."
"Yeah, you're going to have to push 'em all out." he sighs, noting that his pristine finish is going to get messed up. "Get ready, going to move you into position." the bot adjusts the berth and it raises both of Megatron's legs up.
The shift in position makes the first sac of energon come slipping down, energon staining the berth beneath the decepticon leader.
"Whew, well at least I don't have to induce you." he rubs his face. "You're gonna stay like that until it's all out." the bot retrieves a sterile bucket from one of the cabinets and sets it beneath Megatron's crotch to catch the next would-be sparkling. "You're pretty calm about this. It's not your first time, I take it?"
"Third miscarry."
"Ah." comes the awkward reply.
They don't talk further, not even when the bucket is changed out. Not when the bot writes down his report and leaves to speak to someone else. Megatron can hear someone arguing with the medi-bot, and turns his head to the side. The feeling is gut wrenching, awful and it spreads an icy coldness up his servos. His body mourns the loss, the lines of comfort bleep into being on his readout. The bots outside are arguing about autonomy and gathering tissue samples.
"I'm gonna get you a drip, and then let you recharge, okay." Megatron nods back to the bot and goes back to his trance dreamily.
With the drip inserted to one of his fuel lines, Megatron finds himself drifting off in the dark room. He thinks of Shockwave's quiet tones, his brilliance. He hopes that none of the other Decepticons are going through whatever torment he's been assigned to. Deep in his spark, Megatron yearns for their immortality. The feel of energon down his legs brings back memories of having his valve fucked so roughly that it was replaced three times during his stay. He tries to fight back against that memory, his early years as a warlord's second had been rough and turbulent. Maybe here, maybe, maybe on this berth he can forget it. His optics dim as he eagerly slips into full recharge, energon glowing in the dark.