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That was not what he had signed up for!

Oh, he was so going to scrap those two scientists/minions/slaggers when he got free!

Screaming muffled protests, Sentinel struggled and glared at them as they dragged him forcefully toward the equally bound and gagged Decepticons. Starscream was busy kicking at Perceptor’s assistants, who had released his legs too soon. Sentinel almost cheered for the damned ‘Con when he managed to land a good hit in one of the minions-from-the-Pits’ face. Almost.

Because it was that freaking Con’s fault he was in this situation in the first place! Him, and the Magnus (but he couldn’t exactly overtly curse at the Magnus, could he? Not if he wanted to keep his job and not end up as a washed-out cleaning-mech like Optimus), and that thrice-cursed, emotionless son-of-a-glitch that called himself the Head of the Science Guild!

Speaking of Perceptor…

Sentinel twisted his head to have a good look at the fragger. He was casually reading from a datapad, letting his assistants do all the work, seemingly uncaring. Right now, Sentinel hated him fiercely.

Normally, Sentinel would have been all for a new weaponfor the Autobots to use against the Decepticons and protect Cybertron. Except, when he had heard of that flying Autobots project, and he had been asked to contribuate to their creation, nobody had seen fit to tell him HOW he was going to be helping! Sentinel Prime was the subcommander of the Elite Guard; not some sort of ‘incubator’ for a bunch of science experiments!

Slag, had he known they had planned to have him get sparked by Starscream, he would have gotten the Pit out of dodge the moment Perceptor had started to glance his way at that fateful meeting! Unfortunately, he hadn’t, he had let himself led astray with vague details and praises for his willingness to abide by the needs of the Autobots and all that slag that had sounded good on paper. He had even felt flattered to have been considered as an help for the Science Ministry, thinking it would look good for his reputation.

Then Perceptor had started to work on the details and Sentinel hadn’t been able to bolt fast enough when he had let his refusal to be sparked up known.
Probably anticipating his ‘reluctance’ to go along, the fragging scientist had put mechs lying in wait for him as he tried to exit the room and, taken by surprise and unable to defend himself against so many assaillants at once, Sentinel had promptly been cuffed and dragged to the labs.

And now... Well now, he was letting everyone know, even if he was gagged, of his displeasure.

He kicked one of the goons trying to hold him down in the knee joint, feeling some satisfaction at hearing him shout and curse.

“Ouch!” the mook yelped. “Perceptor, Sir, are you sure we can’t tie their legs?”

The scientist glanced away from whatever he was reading. “Actually, we can. Subject B doesn’t need to be able to move either way. And once Subject A is straddling and correctly sinking on Subject B’s reproductive apparel, Subject A will only need minimal mobility to allow deeper penetration of Subject B’s reproductive rod into his reproductive material’s reception canal. As such, you can immobilize him by binding his calves to the table. But not before both subjects have been correctly primed.”

“He could just say spike and valve,” muttered one of the goons. “That would be easier to understand.”

Another shrugged. “Guess those scientists guys need to make big words.”

“Why ever does he call them Subject A and Subject B, anyway?” the same mech asked.

“Dunno. Probably because he wants us to only think about it business like. But if you ask me, ‘A’ stands for ‘annoying’ and ‘B’ for ‘bitchy’.”

Several mechs who heard the comments smirked and snickered. Offended by the comment, Sentinel yelped under his gag, and he heard the Con do the same thing. He turned his head, and they exchanged a quick, disgusted look. Well, at least, Sentinel wasn’t the only one wanting out.

A random goon gave a look at some of his coworkers. “That isn’t funny. I’m sorry, Sir,” he said to Sentinel with an apologetic smile. Sentinel just glared at him and the smile faded quickly as the goon gulped. “R... right,” he mumbled.

“Is everything progressing on schedule?” Perceptor called out as he glanced over at Sentinel and the Decepticon.

A worker saluted him and nodded. “It is, Sir. We’re only waiting for your orders before starting to... prime the subjects for the next phase.”

Perceptor hummed softly. “You have my permission. I want Project Safeguard to be started as soon as possible. You can start to manually arouse the subjects as to ease a reproductive intercourse between them at the earliest convenience.”

“Right away, Sir.”

Sentinel struggled in panic. Nonononononononono! He didn’t want to be ‘manually aroused’ by anyone, thank you very much! There was no way he was interfacing with Starscream to create flying Autobots sparklets! Not of his own free will.

Oh wait, he was forgetting, free will had nothing to do with the present situation; he was just here to obey and participate in Perceptor’s twisted plans.

A blue colored worker gave him an uneasy look. “Right... I guess I... I’m sorry, Sir, I’ll make sure to be quick about that, alright? Don’t you worry, I won’t be long,” he said nervously as he pried open Sentinel’s interface panel.

The damn thing opened far too easily for Sentinel’s comfort. Fragfragfragfrag! Get away, get away, get away! He didn’t want anyone or anything in his vavle, damnit! The worker put an arm around his waist, holding him firmly, and tentatively pushed two fingers inside Sentinel’s bare valve, cissoring them in an attemps to stretch his port and make him release lubricant.

Sentinel groaned under his gag. Fraaaaaag! He wanted to jerk away and get those freaking servos out of his valve, wut despite his meek attitude and appareance, the random worker was holding him good, working his fingers in and out of him at a slow, deliberate pace that Sentinel found maddening. Why the Pit did some mech found this enjoyable, he had no idea; SEntinel wasn’t feeling good at all!

Which was soemthing the workerquickly noticed as he frowned, seeing the Prime not reacting properly to the stimuli. His fingers, he noticed as he pulled them out, were still bereft from the slightest amount of lubricant.

“He does not seem to be releasing any lubricant, Sir,” called the blue tech fingering Sentinel’s valve. True enough, there was next to no moistness, despite his best effort to arouse the Prime. Sentinel glared at him and rumbled something behind his gag, something probably unflattering and downright injurious, as well as threatening. The technician gave him a guilty look. He was just doing his job! And optimal lubrication was necessary if the receiving partner didn’t want to be injured. The Decepticon was, well... he was going to be large. He glanced quickly at where another unimportant technician was busy arousing the enemy prisoner-turned-test-subject. Sure enough, the rod was slowly erecting out of confinement. Heplessly, he looked again at Sentinel. He certainly wasn’t going to envy the Prime.

Uncaring for the mental plight of his underling, Perceptor frowned. “This is most contrarying. Are you sure you’re proceeding correctly?”

The underling’s cheeks heated. “Of... of course, Sir! He just... his body doesn’t react the way we thought it would. It’s like he’s barely feeling my touch, Sir.”
Another goon, who had been busy checking the future restraints’ solidity shrugged. “Might be because he doesn’t use his valve much. It tends to become slightly insensitive when not used for long period. Sensors get partly taken offline and energy redistributed differently, to more used systems.”

Perceptor frowned. “Hmm... Interesting. However, this phenomenon is most unwelcome for the sake of this experiment. Is this condition treatable?”

The red tech nodded, making Sentinel shift uneasily. For a breem, he had thought they would finally relent and let him go. “Absolutely, Sir. Just need a few additional breems and another pair of hands or two. Hoy, you!” he said, addressing another ‘bot who was busy checking over monitor, “come and give us a hand!”

The other worker nodded. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

The tech smirked. “Oh, I think you’ll understand soon.” Casually, he walked to Sentinel and put an arm around his waist, holding him close to him. As he saw the blue worker starting to remove his finger from the Prime’s valve, he stopped him. “No, you let them in. We’ll need them.” The blue worked obeyed, seemingly puzzled, but the third, who had approached, saw his optics light in realization.

The red worker gently patted the Autobot officer and smiled at him, though the smile seemed slightly mocking and patronizing. Sentinel narrowed his optics at him. “Such a stubborn specimen,” tutted the red worker. “Well, we’ll have to correct that. We’re on a short schedule already without having to comply with your caprice, Mr. Prime. So don’t cause problem and let yourself be... pampered, would you?” Sentinel growled in warning, but the worker paid him no mind. Then, without further theatricals, he pushed two fingers inside Sentinel’s valve, alongside those of the first worker.

Sentinel made a choked gasp as he was stuffed. “Now, you start to move them,” he heard his main tormentor said, and suddenly he felt four fragging digits starting to try stretching his port, all at once. He moaned and keened at the same time. The frag did they think they were doing?! He tried to get away, but the arm around his waist was holding him firmly. Fragging manual workers, they hid far more strength than they seemed to have...

He heard a snort. “Now, Officer, don’t be like that. That’s a necessity, you know, unless you want to end up with a ripped up valve lining. And you don’t want to, I’m sure. So, relax a little, hmm?”

No, Sentinel didn’t want to relax! And he didn’t want a ripped valve lining. In fact, he didn’t want a valve, period! That obsolete (in his opinion) part of most Cybertronians anatomy should be removed from everyone! That thing was incredibly messy and gross, with all the fluids it seemed to secrete or suck in! So what if it permitted mechs and femmes to reproduce without the use of the Allspark? The Allspark remained, for Sentinel, safer and cleaner. You had to be a serious deviant to use something else!

He purposely ignored the fact that said disgusting and deviant method was the only reason he was currently existing, as well as a good part of the Autobots created after the Great War. Some may had come from leftover protoforms, but it was only a minority. To say nothing of some of their colonies, where younger ‘bots didn’t even know about the Allspark and its life-giving power...

Oh, Primus... he thought desperately.

Slowly, he felt himself starting to get moist under the two lowmechs’ touch, which was probably the worst humiliation he had ever to live through. Even losing his body to an organic didn’t seem so bad in retrospect!

Grr, when he became Magnus, he would pass a law to... Oh, wait, he couldn’t, could he? With Optimus and his bumbling group of lowly repair mechs actions, the Allspark had shattered, and nobody could be sure its remains could still give life to frames the way it did before.

So their species was condemned to use valves and spikes and fluids exchanges to be able to bring forth future generations.

Something out there hated him, he was certain.

It wasn’t going to stop there, though. Despite the obvious progresses they made in preparing Sentinel’s body, the red worked called for backup. “Come and give us a hand, will you?” he called for the third mech who had joined him, who nodded at him and came closer. He seemed to hesitate, though. “You’re sure you need me? It seems to be progressing well...”

The ringleader nodded. “Better safe than sorry. Beside, he needs to be stretched more. Go on,” he ordered, and the third goon hesitantly brought two fingers at the entry of Sentinel’s port. The Prime shook his head furiously and glared, trying to scream profanities all the while. It didn’t stop the worker, who slowly added the first finger, then the second, alongside those of his comrades. Slowly, almost tenderly, the six fingers massaged his port, and Sentinel’s cheek flushed as he felt himself react.

Sentinel threw his head back as he screamed, in pain and bliss, though he would forever deny the bliss part.

That was it! The moment he became Magnus, he was going to hunt all of them down and personally send their sorry afts to the other side of the galaxy, possibly after punching them in the face hard enough to broke something. Oh yeah, the moment he had the power to do so, he was going to banish them from Cybertron. So far away that even that distant mudball named ‘Earth’ Optimus currently lived on would seem like a next door resort!

He almost felt like crying when he felt the cover of his spike housing slide open. Almost. That would have severly lacked in dignity. Starting to kick his handlers in rage and dispair, though... That wouldn’t be like he was throwing a temper tantrum, would it?

“Are things progressing well?” an unwelcomed voice asked. Sentinel turned his head sharply toward Perceptor, who had come closer and watched his minions mandhandling the Prime dispationnately. Greatest intellect ever seen on Cybertron, his shiny metal aft! Sentinel growled at him, which didn’t surprise or bother anyone. By this point, they were getting used to his displays of anger and unwillingness.

The head goon nodded at his superior. “Yes, Sir. As you can see,” he said, making Sentinel turn to face the scientist and sliding into ‘Perceptor-speech’, “physical reaction to the proper touch and simulation of his interface components have increased significantly. The receptive canal is much more lubricated, and as you can see for yourself, pleasure induced reactions seem also to affect his own reproduction rod. Shall we continue our ministrations, Sir?”

Perceptor shook his head. “It seems futile. If his body is correctly prepared, then we can process with the next part of the experience. Subject B is curently undergoing final preparations himself. We shall process as soon as it is over.”

Oh, Sentinel didn’t like the sound of it. Swiftly, he turned his head toward the medical berth the Decepticon had been strapped down. Sure enough, Starscream was held down securedly, legs slightly parted, multiple straps holding him at the ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, forearms, chest, wings,... there was absolutely no way for him to move, and Sentinel felt some relief about that; wouldn’t do to have a fragging Con free in the middle of Cybertron. Then he felt dread as he spotted the... thing erected between Starscream’s legs.

There was no way he could or would take that in his valve. His optics crossed those of the Decepticon, who, despite the gag and the restraints, seemed very smug as he gazed at Sentinel. Sentinel narrowed his optics. Fragger had probably noticed how panicked the blue Autobot was! That was... that was so unfair! Why was he the one who had to bear those future flying mechs they wanted? Why couldn’t they just impregnate Starscream and be done with it instead of wasting Sentinel’s precious time and dignity?!

...

Because Perceptor had convinced the Magnus it needed to be so. Well, Sentinel decided, when he would become Magnus, he wouldn’t waste time listing to sycophantic or plain weird bots like Perceptor or those civilian Guilds. If they were so worried about Decepticons assaults (and Sentinel had to concede it was a normal and justified worry), then the first thing he would do as Magnus would be to rework the budget and spend more credits on Defense and Intelligence services! Like, 50% or so...

Yes, keep thinking about the day you’ll be Magnus. Don’t think about the pervs who are pawning at you and are going to send you into the clutches of the enemy to get hypothetical new soldiers. Speaking of the enemy...

Sentinel allowed himself a smug smirk of his own behind his mouthplate as Starscream’s optics widened in panic when a tech fastened something at the base and near the tip of his spike. Ah! Take that! ... No, no, don’t take that, he frankly panicked after realizing what they had put on Starscream’s spike.

Rings. Fragging rings. One at the base, tightly bound, to keep the interface rod erected longer and make it harder, and another near the tip, supposed to pull at the forelayer usually protecting the slightly bulbous tip of the spike as to render it more sensitive to simulation. The Prime prayed it wasn’t a vibrating ring as well, because those things were supposed to stimulate both the penetrating partner’s spike and the receptive partner’s valve during intercourse. An ideal combination if one wanted to increase the pleasure and prolonge it at the same time.

Sentinel knew about this because... he had... read it somewhere. He didn’t have first-hand experience with them, nope. This had nothing to do with his tryst with the now departed Elita back in the day... Nothing to do at all, and he would punch the first one who suggested otherwise.

His spark sank as he realized just how much precautions those fraggers were taking. They really left out no chance to not reach what they dubbed ‘successful impregnation’ despite the unwillingness of both their ‘test subjects’. There was no way he or Starscream could stop themselves from overloading, with toys like that stuffed in... Well, Starscream certainly wouldn’t be, but Sentinel, perhaps, could still...

He yelped in surprise when something was brutally magnetized against his opened spike housing. He glanced down to see Perceptor’s hands deftly securing a small, round shaped device to his frame, and mumbled threatingly at the scientist, who didn’t seem to care. He just nodded as he finished what he was doing, apparently very satisfied with himself.

“Better,” he said, and despite his lack of emotional subroutines, he seemed pleased. The goons still holding Sentinel (and two of them still had their filthy servos in his valve!) looked curious.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t see why you added a cap on his spike. I mean, it will not be very comfortable for him,” said the blue one, so far the most empathic of the lot. “It will only block his spike’s extension, which is going to be painful and, well...” he mumbled. “Him being able to extend his spike shouldn’t have a big impact on the process.”

Perceptor gave him a deadpan look, making the blue maintenance worker shuffle his feet uneasily. “On the contrary, having precious energy rerooted toward two pleasure centers would impact on the swiftness of the results. By making sure he only has one pleasure center to concentrate on, his body will be more receptive to procreation. This particular cap model has been modified as to send small electric decharges each time his spike receive command to extend. It should immediately stop said command from being followed, and redirect any lingering energy and pleasure charge toward his valve, as to keep it more receptive to friction, thus making Subject A much more willing and desperate for overload,” he said in his dull, emotionless voice.

Sentinel felt his insides drop. Primus... Were they seriously doing that? To HIM? What had he ever done to be subjected to such... such... things?

The blue worker didn’t seem very convinced, but didn’t comment. He just gave Sentinel a sympathic look. Perceptor looked dispationately at the workers still working their fingers in Sentinel’s valve with a vague sense of interest. “Is his lubricant’s production optimal now?”

“I would think so, Sir,” one of the goon reported. “Frag, he’s sucking my fingers in like a two-credits pleasurebot!” Sentinel’s cheek flushed in shame and rage. He was going to run his lance through that fragger, he swore it!

Perceptor didn’t look impressed. “I take it is a good thing in reproductive matters?”

“It is, Sir,” the goon assured him. “If he does that with our fingers, it should be a piece of energon cake for him to take the, ah, Subject B’s reproductive rod inside him.”

Perceptor nodded. “Very well. Process with the straddling, then.” He turned away, already uninterested. His workers started to drag Sentinel away, toward the table Starscream had been tied to, despite the Prime dragging his feet down and shaking his head madly in denial.

“Mhmhlmhh!” he managed to shout, only to be patted by the blue worker.

“Don’t worry, Sir... it’ll be alright.”

Alright for who, Sentinel wanted to shout. Had he really looked at Starscream’s spike? That thing was huge! And that damn anonymous worker wasn’t going to be the one forced to take it in, no! It was going to be Sentinel, who didn’t do bottom for anyone!

Had he been a lesser mech, he would have started crying and begging for mercy. But begging was out of the question with the gag, and crying was too undinified for a Prime and a mech like Sentinel. It didn’t stop him from mentally weeping and swearing revenge on anyone involved in that crazy scheme!

Sooner than he would have liked (by which he meant, never!), they were at the foot of the table, and Sentinel shared a look of pure loath with the equally bound Starscream. Sentinel wondered if he should feel insulted; sure, he held no attraction to the Decepticon and he definitely didn’t do bottom in a relationship, but Sentinel was a hot number after all. Would it have hurt the Con to at least pretend he wanted a piece of Sentinel’s aft?

… On second thought, Sentinel discarded the idea. He didn’t want a Con actually wanting his aft. Nope.

He yelped as he was picked up by several pairs of hands and firmly put on the table on top of Starscream, in reach of that large spike. Instinctively, he jerked back, or at least tried to, because other hands weren’t allowing him to get away. Instead, they were lifting him up, trying to align his valve’s opening with Starscream’s rod. Sentinel struggled even more, making it difficult for his handlers to really work.

Sadly, his struggled didn’t last.

Something was firmly pressed in the small of his back, and he roared through the gag as he felt an eletric charge strike him, disabling his motor relays. It was all his handlers needed to force his body down... impaling Sentinel on Starscream’s spike gently but firmly. Sentinel (and Starscream, as his member was encased in tight, wet heat) roared some more as the reproduction rod slide inside him smoothly, helped by his own lubricant production and the soft coat of artificial lubricant added on Starscream’s cable for easier penetration. It stroked several nods clusters as it progressed deeply inside him. Hands were pushing him down while others finished fastening restraints around his calves and ankles, essentialy locking him in place, unable to rise from the large spike he was impaled on.

Oh fraaaaaaaaag, Sentinel thought desperately as he felt the tip of Starscream’s spike nudge his ceiling nodes, proving just how big the Seeker’s cable was, long and large and stuffing him in ways he had never been filled before and it was almost too much to take in at once. Sentinel’s spark and processor fluctuated as his systems worked hard to take the influx of informations, pressure and slight pain and pleasure and whatever he was feeling as he was being forced down on the bound Decepticon.

It didn’t stop here. Someone pulled at his bound hands, and he tried to glance back, barely catching anything. Still, he heard the tell-tale sound of chains behind pulled, and he felt some tug from his wrist, forcing his upper body to slightly bend back. Spark sinking in fury and unease, he realized his already bound hands had been secured further, as his manacles had been in turn fastened to chains relied to the restaints immobilizing his ankles.

Struck. Totally struck. He tried to move, desperatly seeking to escape. He tried to lift off the monstruously large appendice impaling him, only to moan (and make Starscream moan) as he could barely lift himself one inch before falling back down, the spike inside him stroking a couple of nodes, making his valve clench around the unwelcome intruder.

“Subject A and Subject B secured, Sir,” someone announced. “Phase 2 can now process without a hitch.”

Perceptor nodded at the news. “Very well. Our presence here is now obsolete. Nature should take its course without additional help on our part. I suggest we return to more urging matters.”

Goons salutated and started heading out, calmly chatting between them and laughing. Some stole glance at the two bound ‘test subjects’ and had to smirk or laugh, but didn’t comment.

Well, that was a relief, Sentinel thought as mechs started to back off and going their merry way, essentially letting him alone with the dangerous Decepticon. The dangerous Decepticon he was currently struck on. And whose spike inside him led to an uncomfortable pressure. He. Wanted. Off.

Tentatively, Sentinel tried to lift off once again. He promptly fell back down, making both him and Starscream utter muffled moans. He tried again. And again. The results were the same. It only served to cause friction, very much unwanted friction, between the Prime and the Decepticon’s personal bits. Sentinel growled, realizing there was no way he could really get off without more leeway or someone helping him stand. Which meant... there was no escape in sight. Only the possibility to ride Starscream’s spike to relieve the pression he was feeling inside him until those fragging, glitched bunch of processor-challenged mechs pretending to be scientists let them out of this... situation. Which meant... he had to make Starscream overload inside him. And overload himself.

Sentinel shuddered in disgust as he considered the idea. He glanced down at Starscream’s face. Both mechs glared at each others with intense loathing, judging each other. Well, if he dimmed his optics and thought of someone else, perhaps he could do this. Perhaps. But the fact remained, he was unable to lift off and impale himself again, which would have been the easiest way to make the Con overload quickly and be done with this face they called an ‘experiment’.

However... he could still move his hips. Not enough to dismount, given the way he was chained down, but enough to thrust them forward and backward, or in circle. It wasn’t much. It would take him a while to coax an overload out of the Decepticon with so little at his dispostion, but right now, he didn’t care. He just. Wanted. It. Over!!!

He thrusted his hips forward briskly, his gag muffling a moan as he felt the spike inside him nudge and rub at sensors. Starscream too moaned, but Sentinel paid him no mind. He was too busy focusing on what he was feeling and repeating the move two or three times more. So far, so good. Though not as much as he would have liked. Sure, his hips thrusts allowed him to feel relatively good, but it didn’t seem to stimulate Starscream’s spike so much. And that was going to be a problem, because the only way for him to be set free, he knew, was for Starscream to successfully stuff him with his disgusting, horribly messy transfluid. Sentinel gritted his teeth. The moment he was set free, the first thing he would do, aside of bashing the head of a couple of bots, would be to take a long soak in extra-powerful cleaning fluids, and use a nozzle to flush any trace of Starscream’s fluids out of his valve.

A sudden move from the spike, one he had no influence on, startled him; suddenly, the Decepticon’s thick member had surged up and hit the ceiling nods of his valve, making him black out for a klik under the sudden flow of pleasure. It made him look down at Starscream. The Decepticon underneath him looked very unhappy with him and his way to rule things, it seemed, because he had started to get agitated. Sure, he couldn’t get out of his bonds either, but Sentinel noticed that the straps weren’t actually restaining his middle. Starscream, with some effort, could still thrust his hips up, which he had done, and did again just as Sentinel realized the Con was taking some part in the action.

His cry of bliss as once again his ceiling nodes were hit dead on went unheard from anyone, except Starscream, who seemed to conceive some sort of smug look at hearing his fellow captive cry out. Fragger, Sentinel thought desperatly has he tried to gather his wits and really think about the situation.

Starscream’s weak thrust didn’t allow him to stimulate much of Sentinel’s valve. The same way, Sentinel’s attempts at lifting himself off Starscream’s spike weren’t exactly working out. Still, they had some leeway for actual, mutual friction here. Something that would allow to getting out of this nightmare sooner rather than later. But they would need to... Sentinel shuddered... cooperate.

Meaning, they had to time Starscream’s feeble thrust right with the moment Sentinel’s started sliding back down on his member if they wanted to reach maximum stimulation. When they both obviously distrusted/hated each other.

Joy.

Still, they had to make it work. It was the only way for them to be freed from this parody of interfacing. Frowning and wanting to grit his dental plates, Sentinel lifted his body as much as he could while looking at Starscream in the optics, trying to silently communicate with the Decepticon. He needed him to ccoperate and thrust up just as he let himself drop back into position. Starscream glared at him nastily, but he seemed to understand what Sentinel had in mind, because the Prime felt him tense underneath him. Nodding slightly, Sentinel started to let him fall down, just as Starstream pushed his hips up.

They shouted through their respective gags. The friction was much more intense this way, and Sentinel’s nods were rubbed hard. His valve felt hot and he couldn’t keep soft moans to escape him. His only consolation was that Starscream wasn’t faring better. They looked at each other again as Sentinel once again lifted himself up as much as he could.

It was going to be long, but if they could keep cooperating and finding the right pace, they could do it.

In the end, Sentinel wasn’t sure just how much time they spend like that, his chronometer having glitched at some point. It seemed terribly long, though. By the time both mechs managed to overload, Sentinel felt exhausted, and he could have swore his insides were on fire from both pleasure and pain. That continual rubbing was taking its toll, and he sagged in relief when finally his overload came and went. He was almost sure Starscream was also relieved.

With any luck, those fragging scientists would come around now and free him. After all, he did what they wanted; he had been filled with Starscream’s nanites-laced CNA, the sticky fluids staining the inside of his thighs as some escaped his still stuffed valve. Sentinel grimaced at the thought and feel of that still hard lenght still nestled inside him. Even if he had overloaded, the ring fastened at its base stopped Starscream’s spike from going limper. For all intents and purpose, Sentinel was still impaled, and it was starting to make him more and more nervous.

What were those fraggers waiting for to come down here and free him? Surely, they just saw they were finished? He didn’t believe for a second that, just because there wasn’t anyone in the room, nobody was keeping an optic on them...

“MMmmmmphhehemmms!” he shouted suddenly as something started to vibrate inside him. Starscream’s own roar was barely muffled by his own gag as he stiffened.

Sentinel threw his head back and whined as the vibrations he was feeling inside him, quickly realizing what they were. It came from the second ring on Starscream’s base, the one near the tip. He had forgotten about them until now, but now, he was unpleasantly reminded of their existence.

So, the ring they had put around the tip of Starscream’s spike was a vibrating one, after all. But why didn’t it work before?

Delayed reaction, he realized as he arched his back whining, as the vibration aroused him; had he been able to, he was sure Starscream would have been thrashing, but the damn mech could just thrust his hips up eratically, making Sentinel’s plight much more... awful. Fragging lab assistants and their fragging interface toys! There was no way Perceptor had been the one to come up with that; the mech had the look of a mech who had never been laid! Fragging pleasure industry for their quirky devices, too! From personnal... researches, because a future Magnus had to know everything, of course, Sentinel knew that some spike rings could be programmed to be set off after a given time, allowing partners to start with normal interfacing before... spicing up the lovemaking. Seemed like Perceptor’s crazy assistants had set this one to start working after the Prime had coaxed a first overload from Starscream, probably to... ‘encourage’ their test subjects to have others.

Which they did, after only a couple of joors, having NOT expected the toy efficacity at rubbing Sentinel’s nodes or stimulating Starscream’s rod. Sentinel shouted and keened as he overloaded again. He could feel hot liquid pouring inside him and dripping along his legs, and he felt a mix of relief and shame, twitching as he realized how dirty he was going to end up as this rate.
Despite their respective overloads, the rings continuated to vibrate and buzz, over stimulating the two test subjects personnal bits, and Sentinel desperately shifted his hips, trying to make it go away. Starscream was mumbling something under that gag of his, but Sentinel paid him no mind.

What he was feeling was maddening, and he wanted out. But he couldn’t, could he? Not until Perceptor was satisfied with the results of his ‘experiment’. And for that, Sentinel wanted to weep, it would take much more than two overloads.

The only way for everything to stop, he realized as he spark sank and he started moving his hips eratically, was to ride Starscream again and again. Until he passed out or someone came to take him off the Seeker.

Weeping, Sentinel started to thrust forward and backward, making sure the spike inside him was rubbing against every sensor clusters he could feel. It felt good, it felt wrong, it felt like something he couldn’t describe right away and he didn’t have the time or the energy to dwell upon what he was feeling or what he should have felt. He needed to be numb and just go with the motion until it was all over, or he would break.

Frag him. Frag him. Frag him. Shift your hips that way, lift yourself up, go down hard. Up, down, Up down. Again. Again. Don’t stop. It’s the only way, he repeated to himself silently. The only way... Continue, don’t stop, don’t think about the humiliation, about the pain, just focus on the pleasure, try to get more, don’t care about your reputation or whatever is happening, don’t care for Starscream, just frag, frag, frag, frag frag, updownupdown, forwardbackward, forwardbackward, updown, updown, justdon’tstop and continue to fragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfragfrag...

The mantra lasted until he felt everything go dark...

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He came to his senses in a dark room. Or at least, he thought he came back to his senses, it was hard to tell. He might as well have been dreaming. If so, it wasn’t a bad memory flux. He was lying on a soft surface, a berth covered in mesh, probably. The gag in his mouth had been removed, he realized as he passed his glossa over his cracked lips components, and he couldn’t feel the pressure of Starscream’s too large member inside him, though his body still felt heatened and his valve felt sore. Still he let a small sound of relief escape him at the absence of the intruder between his legs.

“Ssshh, my mech... It’s over, you’re fine,” someone whispered at him.

Someone was behind him, Sentinel realized, tensing a little, but he felt so exhausted he barely had the strenght to stiffen, and didn’t bother turning to see who was here with him. Beside, it was so dark, and he was so undernergized his vision was blurry. A hand was rubbing the small of his back in soothing circle, and Sentinel felt himself relax just a little.

“Hhhhmmm... wh... wh...?” He tried to said, but his vocalizer felt like glitching. A finger was gently pressed against his lips to silence him.

“No, no, don’t try to talk. It’s okay, SP. It’s over.” An arm snaked around his waist and pulled him closer to whoever was behind him. Sentinel knew that voice, he was sure of it, but for now, he was too tired to care or think about it. He just snuggled against the mech holding him, a sob of relief escaping him.

A mirthless chuckle. “Primus, they’d said you’d be exhausted, but I didn’t think it would be that much.” Another arm surrounded him, holding him closer to his mysterious companion. Sentinel let himself be held, feeling safe and warm. A pleased sigh escaped him.

“You’re falling into recharge again, SP?”

Sentinel vaguely nodded. Sure enough, he felt tired and ready to go back into recharge. It seemed so alluring... A soft kiss was pressed against his neck, and he made a soft sound of protest. He didn’t have anything against cuddling, but he didn’t want more. He heard a soft chuckle.

“Aww, don’t be like that, SP. I just want to... comfort you a little. Don’t you want to be comforted?”

Sentinel frowned a bit, trying to think as warm lips started to kiss him in the neck, lips components sliding up to tease his chin as the other mech moved to lie on him. Did he want comfort? It... didn’t seem so bad to be comforted, he guessed tiredly as he was gently pushed to lie on his back. Whoever was kissing him just leaned over him, pressing his frame against his, arms put on each side of Sentinel’s head. Lips components met his own and, by reflex, Sentinel opened his mouth slightly, letting the other mech’s glossa slid inside.

It didn’t feel wrong, he mused as he tried clumsily to reach for the mech kissing him. Primus, he felt so tired... His arms were finally guided to surround a thin waist, and Sentinel held for dear life as much as he could, though his hold lacked strength.

“Like that. That’s good, SP, that’s very good,” the mech above him encouraged him. Sentinel could only distinguish a blue light, probably the mech’s optics, and he tentatively smiled at him, trying to ask for another kiss. He barely managed to form a word before he was shushed again, but the mech started to kiss him again without further prompting, caressing Sentinel’s chest all the while.

Sentinel dimmed his optics and sighed in pleasure. It was good. It was better than lying with Starscream at any rate. He could easily fall into recharge like that, he mused as his head rolled to the side and he took a deep intake.

Then he felt something poke at his inner thigh and his optics snapped open with bright intensity. A helpless moan escaped him, as well as small sounds of panic as he tried to get away. He was pinned down without much efforts though, too weak to really fight. The mech above him kept making shushing sounds and stroking him, holding him down and trying to reassure him.

“Shhh, shh. Calm down, SP. Sentinel, please, calm down. I don’t want to hurt you. Won’t hurt you, SP, never. I just want to help. Just want to help. Just want to comfort you. Don’t you want me to comfort you?”

Sentinel’s fruitless fighting died down after a while, but he was really close to tears. Still, the mech spoke to him.

“Just want you to feel better, SP,” he nudged the Prime, nuzzling his face against his neck. “Just want you to feel better and rememeber interfacing don’t hurt. Don’t you want me to show you? To make Starscream’s imprint disappear?”

Sentinel relaxed at that. Make Starscream disappear from his body... in his over exhausted CPU, it felt like something good. He felt so dirty right now... surely, the stranger couldn’t be worse than the Decepticon, and a small part of Sentienl’s CPU felt he would feel cleaner with the other mech’s help. But it was so confusing... He didn’t think he wanted someone else inside him, ever. Should he anyway, to feel better?

Lips components were once against pressed against his own and he moaned helplessly. His arms went back to circle the other mech’s waist, signaling he would be going along. He still shuddered at the thing poking against his thigh, but he held himself, frame heavy with tiredness.

“That’s a good mech... I’ll be quick, I promise,” the stranger who perhaps wasn’t one cooed. Sentinel raised his arms, letting them pass around the mech’s neck, trying to make him come closer to him. The mysterious mech didn’t object, and Sentinel thought for a klik that he saw a smile, but it was blurred... So tired...

He felt his legs being gently parted on each side of a slim waist, and the stranger gently encouraged him to tie them around that waist, joining their body together. Sentinel did without much thinking. That was how most couples interfaced, right? he thought vaguely as he felt something press against his abused opening.

He keened as the stranger thrust inside him. It was gentle and careful, the tip just inside and slowly sinking in, penetration eased by the copious amount of transfluid that was, Sentinel noted distractely, still dripping down his thighs, but still, Sentinel felt uneasy and sore and tired and deep down, he didn’t want that. But the other mech was so gentle, and Sentinel just couldn’t resist...

“Sentinel? Do I hurt you?” his mysterious lover asked him worriedly. Sentinel shook his head. No, he wasn’t hurting... not really. His valve felt sore, and he could barely feel the stranger’s spike after so much time riding Starscream’s much larger rod against his will, and his whole body just ached for recharge, but the stranger’s spike wasn’t hurting him. It just felt inconvenient, he thought vaguely.

A hand cupped his cheek gently. “I’ll be fast, I promise you.”

The mech started to move, slowly, at a shallow pace, gentle and caring and whispering sweet things and encouragements at Sentinel, who just let his head loll to the side and moaned, arms and legs desperately keeping a grip on the stranger making him love. Their bodies rocked in the dark, the blue of their optics the only light around. Senitnel just laid still and quiet except for his moans, while the other mech was panting as he thrusted his hips and cooed at his lover.

“Such a good mech... almost... almost over... Stay with me, Sentinel,” he gently said as he saw that Sentinel was very near losing conscience and entering a deep recharge cycle. Sentinel just grunted a bit, and the stranger gave him a thin smile as he picked up his pace.

The overload was fast coming. Sentinel felt his valve constrict and squeeze the rod inside him, milking the transfluid out of the appendice for all it was worth, sucking it up in his carrying chamber and allowing it to mix with Starscream’s transfluid, adding more Autobot’s CNA to the layout of the future sparklings he would bore. Not that Senitnel realized it or was in a state of caring.

The other mech pulled out of the Prime’s valve gently, slowly, not wanting to cause any harm. Gently, he cupped Sentinel’s cheek again.

“There, all over, SP. Feeling better? SP?” he asked.

Sentinel didn’t answer. He was already in recharge. The mech sighed and gently patted the Prime before rising from the berth. He silently opened a comm. chanel, still keeping an optic on Sentinel’s resting frame.

::Perceptor? May I ask for some of your time?”

::Has your mission been fulfilled?:: the scientist asked swiftly. ::Did you add your transfluid in Sentinel’s reproductive chamber?::

The mech growled a bit. ::Yes, mission fulfilled. Will you meet with me now?::

An hesitation, then... ::Very well. Meet me at laboratory 5, Officer Jazz. I’ll be waiting for you. Perceptor out.::

:: Jazz out.::

The white and black ninja gave a last, sad look at Sentinel before exiting the room. “I’m sorry, SP. Really. That wasn’t exactly like that I had pictured a romp with you...”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“I trust everything went according to plan?” was the first thing Perceptor said as Jazz strolled into the small office arranged in a corner of Lab 5.

Jazz was frowning and almost scowlding at the scientist. “Depends what you call ‘according to plan’. Did I interface with him? Sure, I did. He’s in deep recharge right now. Barely lasted until we were finished.”

Perceptor hummed. “Not unexpected, I must say. His fuel level had been checked previously as soon as he was removed from Starscream’s body and were very low. He would have remained in recharge far longer had you not insisted to partialy refuel him before you did your duty, Jazz. Keeping Sentinel in recharge while you added your transfluid to the outcome of Project Safeguard would have been simpler. He would have been none the wiser.”

“And that’s far more than anything I could have endured,” the white and black mech growled. “It was bad enough to know you had set him up to be raped and were asking me to rape him in turn. I certainly wasn’t going to betray him further by ‘secretly’ taking him... or letting anyone else touch him that way.”

Perceptor just gave him a look. “Do you feel more at ease with your actions now?”

Jazz made a gesture. “No, I’m not. But at least, I’ll be able to look at him and tell myself that at least, I made sure it felt good for him... for all the good it was” he finished bitterly.

“We’ll take great care of Sentinel,” Perceptor said calmly. “We have no intention to hurt him, Jazz. Sentinel Prime is already proving himself to be a stepping stone for Project Safeguard and, who now, further projects.”

Jazz snorted. “Of course you don’t intend to hurt him. Not that you haven’t already. And honestly, I don’t think SP cares much about that you think and your projects. He seemed pretty shaken on the vids when you asked me to come and join you to ‘watch nature takes its course’ between him and Starscream,” he said bitterly.

And Primus, it hadn’t been fun to watch. Sure, Sentinel had seemed to be his grumpy self until late in the ‘reproduction process’, but at some point... he had seemed so broken and desperate. It twisted something in Jazz’s spark. SP wasn’t his favorite bot, but nobot deserved to be so...broken-looking. And forced interface... that didn’t sit well with Jazz. That why he had scrapped the plan to take Sentinel while he was still out cold. He had genuinely wanted to make him better, even if his consent in their ‘facing had been dubious at best. He just hoped he had managed.

“It is... most unfortunate. However, it was a necessity,” the microscope answered easily,not seeming very remorseful. Of course, perhaps he was deep down, but with his lack of emotions, it was hard to say. It just made Jazz twitch.

“Oh, was it? Was it really necessary to bind him this way? It seemed pretty uncomfortable, and if you really wanted him... ‘impregnated’, as you put it,” he made a disgusted face, “there were better positions.”

Perceptor glanced at him. “Very true. However, a careful analysis of Sentinel’s profile points out how much in control he tends to want to be and act. As much as the classical and much more reliable ‘missionary position’ was, I felt some measure of control, or at the very least, an illusion of control, could and should be added to their coupling. The resulting possible psychological trauma should be decreased by approximately 15, 8569%,” the microscope pointed out.

Jazz’s optics went bright. “So... You’re saying you made him straddle Starscream like that... because you thought he would react better by being on top of him and controlling the pace, instead of under him and unable to control anything?” Had Perceptor... truly tried to make it better for Sentinel in his own twisted way?

“That’s what I just told you,” the scientist deadpaned.

“Well, I didn’t think you cared much about SP’s mental well-being,” Jazz commented.

Perceptor pushed his glasses up. “I care little for it, actually. But sparking is usually made easier for the future newspark’s incubator if he feels better at ease in a given situation, so from a purely logical stand, having Sentinel think he was the one controlling the jointing would most likely result in easier conception.”

Jazz had to grimace. “That’s cold. Really, really cold. And you’re... sure that SP is... Well, that he’s sparked?”

Perceptor gave him a cold gaze. “If I did not, I wouldn’t have allowed him off Starscream’s reproduction rod already.” The other Autobot grimaced again. Perceptor seemed to soften a bit. “That said, I must thank you for your assistance and CNA donation, Jazz.”

“I haven’t slept with Sentinel just because I was asked to for the sake of your ‘project’,” the Cyberninja stated coldly, offended. “I did it because I genuinely wanted to comfort him after what you made him live through.”

Perceptor didn’t seem to mind. “Nonetheless, you did add a most generous and welcome contribution to the project. It is our hope that whatever individuals are produced, after Sentinel has properly birth them, will take after you in mindset.”

“If you were so worried about whatever traits those future flying Autobots YOU want so much will have, you could have just asked me to be the Carrier to your latest crazy test, instead of chosing Sentinel. I... would have done that,” he said, trying to steel himself. “Interface with Starscream, I mean.” And he would have; if it could have spared Sentinel’s so much anguish, Jazz would have. Perhaps reluctantly, but he would have.

Perceptor shook his head. “Your offer is generous. Unfortunately, Sentinel’s internal layouts and mods were better designed for what we had in mind. I did emit reservations about his personality, and was fortunate that the Magnus was willing to share most of them. But as it is, if we could have used you further for the making of those future flying Autobots, I would have selected you over Sentinel more than once. It’s regretable that, due to the project’s secrecy, we weren’t able to verify if any other mechs and femmes more willing to go through the process were compatible enough for an efficient coupling. Sadly, even in Metroplex, Project Safeguard must stay as secretive as possible until we end up with concrete results.”

Jazz just grunted. “If you say so. And when will you have those ‘results’?”

“Hmm... if everything goes according to the plans we drawn, then Sentinel’s carrying cycle should be very quick, around five to seven orbital cycles.”
Jazz swore. “That fast? It’s almost the third of a normal carrying cycle! How is that possible?”

Perceptor actually smirked. “That is a secret, Jazz. I can’t give you specifics. However, a diet we have been working on as well as several adjustements made to Sentinel Prime’s body will considerably speed up the process. The sparklings themselves, once born, will be given the same treatment as to accelerate their growing process.”

That left Jazz reeling. “That’s not fair to those kids. Can’t they just be sparklings?”

Perceptor sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t afford the time for them to grow up naturally. Signs and reports made by the Intelligence Division show that Decepticon activities have largely increased recently. As it is, we may need those flying Autobots far sooner then our initial plans supposed. As much as I understand you reluctance, and the one emitted by Ultra Magnus, they can’t be given a normal sparklinghood.”

“Ultra Magnus has misgivings?” Jazz asked, surprised.

Perceptor nodded. “Some. But we managed to convince him to not dwell on them too much. The future of Cybertron is at stack, and even if some individuals must be injured in the process, we can’t afford to stop now. Not if we want to preserve our planet.”

Jazz had to look away. iIt made an awful amount of sense, but still... It wasn’t fair to SP.

Perceptor looked at his notes. “Now that Phase two is over and successful, we can turn to the next phase. Phase three should begin in five solar cycles. By then, Sentinel should have recuperated enough to take the lead in the next joining.”

“Wait, what?!” Jazz exclaimed. “What do you mean, take the lead?”

Perceptor pushe his glasses upward. “As mentionned before, we can’t have more people involved in the project right now. The progression rate is, as such, very slow. We need to use all opportunities to make quick progresses. So we’ll use Sentinel to impregnate Starscream in turn.”

Of all the crazy, unethical ideas... Jazz swore mentally. Hadn’t they harassed Sentinel enough already? Sure, the guy needed a lesson in humility and perhaps he wasn’t the nicest Autobot Jazz knew, but that... to force him to rape someone after having basically setted him to be raped by that same person? Was Perceptor really so insensitive?

“Is that even possible?” he asked dubiously, trying to not swear at the scientist.

Perceptor nodded. “Unlike what the majority of mechas seems to think, being sparked doesn’t stop you from sparking another partner. Sentinel and Starscream having already proved their compatibility, it shouldn’t be too long before Starscream himself starts bearing another batch of newsparks.”

“So... you’ll have them reverse position? Sentinel will not like to be helpless...” he tried to deflect Perceptor from the idea of using Sentinel again. He had, after all, stated he had given some thoughts to Sentinel’s mental well-being, even if veiled. Surely, he could see it wasn’t a good idea?

His hopes were quickly dashed. “Not quite. We have no intention to make Starscream straddle our fellow Autobots. Starscream will remain bound flat to the table, as per usual, with Sentinel kneeling between his thighs. Sentinel’s reproductive rod will then be aligned and introduced into his reproductive fluid’s reception canal.”

“And I thought you were cold with SP,” Jazz mumbled. That was probably friendlier for Sentinel, but for Starscream? Frag, he was feeling sorry for the Decepticon. “What were you saying, before, about the ‘incubator’ comfort being more important than the Sire?”

“On a Decepticon as dangerous as Starscream has proved himself to be? I’m afraid it isn’t valid.” Perceptor said with some finality, which wasn’t easy, considering his general lack of emotion. “I must admit, I’ll be most curious of how both gestation cycles will progress. Starscream’s larger frame should allow him to bear more offsprings in one go than Sentinel, though I can only hypothesize about this outcome. Most intriguing will be the development of their respective offsprings.”

That made Jazz curious. “How so?”

“Mixing Autobots and Decepticons’ coding hasn’t been done in stellar cycles. We can’t be sure of the eventual results. Who, in the future outcomes of Project Safeguard, will be the closest to Autobots’ ideal? In theory, being nurtured in Sentinel’s body should give an advantage to his owns, but we can’t be sure until they’re born and installed into their adult frames and tested,” Perceptor explained readily. “By having Starscream equally carrying some sparklings, we can observe any difference between the two set of offspring and determinate the best course of action for the future of the project. It is hard to say yet what impact having the same procreators but different carriers will have on the physical aspect of the sparklings, or on their CPU. As it his, given the creators, we’re afraid they’ll share a temper and a mentality too similar to the Decepticons, which would be a failure. It is our hope your coding will mellow them and allow them to become better integrated in Autobot society.”

“Should I feel flattered?” Jazz asked with a dark look.

Perceptor looked at him. “You should. That we ask such things of you is the proof how our trust and respect for you.”

“Funny, it doesn’t exactly feel like that from where I stand. So will you also ‘ask’ me to frag Starscream so you can tweak with the future personalities of his sparklings too?” Jazz asked harshly.

Perceptor nodded. “It would be best to do so. Nobody is denying Sentinel is a good soldier. Sadly, his personality is far too volatile, and so is Starscream’s own. A third code donor is for the best, and since you’ve accomplished your mission once...”

Jazz just tightened his fists. “That’s rape,” he stated simply. “I’m not into that. The thing with Sentinel was already pushing it. Don’t ask me for more.”

Perceptor evaluated him. “Your morals, though I find them hardly revelant currently, honor you. They’re why we choose you to begin with, after all. However, they’re also very ill-placed and would greatly impact the good progression of the ongoing project. This will not be tolerated. If needed, I’ll have the Magnus make it a direct order. And it is my understanding that you like to offer comfort to injured or upset mechs. I trust spending some time in an intimate manner with Starscream will not be different.”

Jazz almost bared his teeth at the microscope. Almost. But that would have served no purpose. He was trapped. Kinda. Either he did what they wanted of him, or he didn’t and they asked someone else... Someone who wouldn’t care at all. And, Jazz supposed, even Starscream could beneficiate from some comfort once it was over. “I’ll do it, Perceptor. But I won’t do more for you. That Safeguard Project you have is better be worth it,” he warned the mech.

Perceptor pushed his glasses up. “Trust me, Jazz. If I didn’t think it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have started working on it to begin with...”

Jazz turned away. In a way, he hoped Starscream would escape, so they could be over with this mess. For now, he was going to go and try to recharge, and not think too much about Sentinel’s broken look on the camera live-feed... or about the guily pleasure he had felt when he had buried himself into the Prime’s valve. As he rejoined his quarters, he tried to drift into recharge.

Curiously, his memory fluxes were all full of little Starscream’s look-alikes with the combined bad traits of their Sire and Carrier, without any influence from him. Jazz pictured them already, some little, egotistical, lying, cowardly, greedy, envious, suck-up younglings that would drive everyone up the wall. In his sleep, as he imagined them in details, he couldn’t help but giggle.

What were really the chance of that happening?

END