Bulky TFP Shockwave Is Insanely Hot, Yet I'm Still Trying To Figure Out How Exactly We Should Explore

Bulky TFP Shockwave is insanely hot, yet I'm still trying to figure out how exactly we should explore his deadly otherworldy allure. There's something that captivates me the most. Oh boy, his damn HAND. Let's do some in-universe Shockwave hand fetish.

Maybe it's Starscream's nervous alertness going worse near his rival, maybe it's his millennia-long sensual (and sexual) deprivation, maybe a secret third option (Soundwave applying some sort of Wi-Fi Zersetzung mental control technology to destabilize him and make him more obedient by slowly uploading lewd thought-viruses into his operating system).

Whatever, it's just Shockwave's damn hand. An unpaired mechanism, elegant and graceful. Its exquisite shape would fit Knock Out better. It's a palm of a medic, or a dancer, or a sculptor, or a massagist. 

Oh, Starscream very well remembers this palm mercilessly grabbing his helm, almost shoving his head onto the giant metal thorn. Honestly, in reality, he would prefer not to stay in the same room with any of Shockwave's limbs, whether it be his cannon or this inappropriate hand. In the realms of his mind, though…

He's staring, again. Shockwave's dexterous digits are waltzing over the console, each movement precise, swift, smooth, and hypnotic at the same time. Starescream's wings give a very interested twitch. These fingers could as well be examining his moving parts, let's say, to check if everything is in order. Knock Out's competence sometimes seems questionable. They could be studying methodically Starscream's rivets, and gears, and circuits. The best Decepticon flyer must tick perfectly.

And maybe he could open his spark chamber, so… No, it absolutely has nothing to do with the real Shockwave. Starscream would rather join the Autobots before letting him anywhere near his insides. But receiving a little manual exam from these skillful digits sounds like what the best Decepticon flyer and, remember, second-in-command deserves. At least to make sure he didn't mess it all up while dosing himself with the Dark Energon.

At this point, Starscream is shivering slightly, his knees frail, his vents shallow and quick. His gaze never leaving Shockwave's digits, now plugging some device into the console, connecting the wires. They could be on his cockpit, tracing the seams with their sharp talons on the way to their target between Starscream's legs. Just where his most delicate machinery was all heated up, preparing him for the interface, his slender spike ready to be enveloped by these strong fingers. Oh, Starscream will craft any absurd explanation for Shockwave to continue his ministrations. Like, seekers can die from arousal if they're not jerked off or finger-fucked to completion. He'll lubricate in Shockwave's grip like a good bot. It'll appear absolutely logical to make him squirt.

He has to forcefully abort his spike's attempts to free itself from under his codpiece armor. It's hot inside his housing, maybe even leaking. That also applies to his valve, cycling behind his closed panel. Shockwave's pointy fingertips will prickle them carefully, spreading his soft, sensitive flaps, opening him up before the unblinking red optic. They'd point at his nodes, pressing them like they're typing a passcode. They would intrude, like Shockwave breaks into people's bodies and brains with his instruments and his cold, mismechanical mind. They would be his sweetest torture, until Starscream actually screams, jetting fluids helplessly, his legs shaking.

And, oh, in reality, his legs are shaking. Shockwave is still facing his console and multiple screens, paying zero attention to what's happening behind his back. And there is Starscream, seized by the sudden spasming tension, stretched out and muting himself with his own hands over his throat and mouth, and dripping on the floor between his heels. Wings fluttering. Clearly overloading.

With a sharp hiss and click, his treacherous spike is also out to shoot its thin but impudent release. Leaving him no excuse in case Shockwave turns around. Strascream's spark, a nanosecond ago flaring with charge, goes ice-cold along with his drooped wings. He's damned. Betrayed by his processor and all his systems. Doing this… this without a single touch, just fantasizing about Shockwave fingering him. Now any cortical psychic patch session will be the end of the great commander Starscream. 

He needs to get out of here. Now.

"Starscream?" Shockwave's plain, mechanical voice creeps under his plating instantly, as always cold and passionless. But Shockwave's finials jiggle, bearably visibly, as in interest. "Is everything alright?"

Soundwave and his mind games be damned.

Making it fit

Expandable valves. Hell yeah. Instead of breaking and hurting with a bigger partner, why can't high-tech alien robot cunts just adapt to accommodate them? Their internal components can literally be rearranged temporarily without any damage. 

But what if this technique is not that easy to perform? While it requires a T-cog, it's still not an ordinary transformation. And you have to hold it like that while being profoundly fucked, otherwise you'll be ruptured. And you are supposed to enjoy it.

Imagine older bots such as Kup being tidbits because in their years they're likely to master the art of taking it real big. Maybe it's easier for triple-changers, more so for quadruple-, and so on.

(But since it's my blog my rules here, I'll die standing on conviction that the most tempting are those whose valve is naturally big and ample.)

Some thoughts on prostitution in TF

I'm torn between two options. For one thing, Cybertronian culture lacking prostitution as widespread and common as we have it today, while Cybertronians themselves are sexual beings, is an interesting concept. Ya know, a bit of otherness for yer alien robots having bars, booze, propaganda films, and other modern human shit.

I do like "selling oneself" to mean selling one's parts, or technical files containing schematics and know-how information about peculiar features, or the source code so it can be replicated. Or, like Deadlock in MTMTE, just renting your body out so losers can drive a race car or fly a jet for a day or two.

But fuck it, if Cybertronians had something resembling a courtesan or hetaira culture in human historical societies, I wouldn't be opposed. Them being a social class associated with exquisite entertainment, arts, and intelligence, being educated and cultured. 

There's no room for this during the war, but man, without sexual orientation being a concept or homophobia killing the game, there's absolutely no problem finding a casual fuck, just look at your desperate buddy or colleague.

Oh, I didn't post it. The whole "Megatron's cannon gets around and gets it on a lot" topic's started with this fic about Megs enjoying his beloved weapon himself. (At this point I've started to wonder, can an arm cannon be considered an arm candy if sexy?)

$10 says there will be an eddying rush of porn with virgin Orion Pax on equally virgin Megatron (I don't expect much Elita, I know where I am). And I await it. Inexperienced lovers awkwardly exploring each other and the whole sex thing is one of my top favorite genres of erotic content.

(And good guys Quintessons could give us more friendly tentacle porn. C'mon, fearsome polylimbic masters can't fulfill the niche for strong organic (or at least semi-organic) folks fucking big robots on equal terms for mutual enjoyment, they should try better.)

There'd be more chances to convince me to watch TFA despite my distaste for the style and some core tropes being not my cup of tea if the fandom put more effort into depicting the Decepticons fucked. I mean, ravaged by their smaller partners.

Look, there are giant Megatron and Blitzwing, drawn with their relatively tiny Autobots all over the tags. And the possibilities of them being spiked for dear life are still obscure? Let's face the truth, if someone can hold their partner with one hand, sure shit they'll hold them closer to their crotch. To use their tiny spike for pleasure.

(Just kidding. It's not so easy to convince me to consume any media, but it would be a fairly nice try.)