It was going to happen soon, he just didn't know when.
Optimus had grown used to his role as Prime - he knew the signs for when Primus would demand his penance yet again. The ground rolled slightly as he wandered through the streets of the newly restored planet; a low rumbling and small localized tremors occasionally happened.
His memory told him that he would have at another day; he was wrong.
And so, when Primus came for him, Optimus was bound, faceplates down, to his own berth, arms and legs spread wide, vocalizer and optics forcefully offlined. Standing over him, Ratchet and Megatron worked in tandem. The medic skillfully teased the Prime's valve, one servo exploring the inner cavity, dancing over the inner nodes, while the other lightly flicked out a rhythm over Optimus' anterior node. Megatron held an electro whip, bringing it down with practiced grace - each stroke hitting yet another untouched part of Optimus' back and making his entire frame stiffen from the combination of the pleasure and pain.
Megatron finished his count. "Impressive, Prime," he said, setting the whip down and running a claw down Optimus' tender back. "You have endured, suffered, and now, you're ready for me to make you mine." Optimus exvented, shivering with desire.
"Doctor, I trust he's good and ready?"
Ratchet just gave Megatron a wicked smile and -
An earthquake rumbled through the building, snapping everyone out of the scene as the building shook - a collection of toys on a nearby dresser fell to the floor from the vibrations.
Ratchet sent the command to free Optimus from his restraints, and found that Optimus had already sent the safe-word himself, and had closed his valve cover. His face flashed worry for a moment, before settling back into the stoic expression that Optimus hadn't worn since the treaty.
"I must go - you may follow, but I cannot guarantee your safety."
"Oh, no you don't," Ratchet and Megatron said simultaneously, both reaching out and grabbing a shoulder each.
"This is my duty as Prime," Optimus said, not looking back, "This is… I can promise you my own safety, but I cannot promise the same for you."
Ratchet rolled his optics at Megatron, "And we're going to follow you anyway," the medic said.
"Very well." Optimus stepped outside just as a second earthquake began rumbling. Megatron and Ratchet followed - Ratchet's optics scouring everything, and Megatron's fusion cannon charged and held at the ready.
Optimus, once outside, knelt down, knees spread, in a position that his trinemates recognized immediately. Without warning, the groundmetal cracked and rolled up around itself in more places than either of them could track, forming tendrils that wormed their way towards Optimus. The first two to reach him wound up his arms, squeezing them tight. Immediately, another pair wound along Optimus' legs, and the four tentacles lifted him bodily into the air.
Megatron's blade slide out from under his cannon. "OPTIMUS!" he roared, about ready to charge.
"MEGATRON!" Optimus shouted back. "Stand down - unless you want Primus to attack for interrupting the creation of newsparks." Smaller tentacles had begun winding across his body in various directions, squeezing and pulsating against his frame.
Optimus spike sprung out of its casing, fully erect, already dripping with lubricant.
Megatron's optics went wide.
"We-he-hell, then. How come you get to have all of the fun?" Ratchet asked, an evil glint in his eye. "Primus come and take me." Megatron looked at Ratchet, slightly aback, but Megatron found that his own spike betrayed him - watching Optimus wrapped up in tentacles, moaning, was a wet dream that he had never expected to have.
"If you wa-AAH" Optimus' comment was interrupted by a final tentacle - noticeably hollow, sliding down around the length of his spike, squeezing down on it with pulses that began to urge an imminent overload from the Prime's frame. The tentacle pulled back - just the tip was covered, and tiny filaments just behind the head of the tentacle whipped back and forth against the head of Optimus' spike. It squeezed, tighter and tighter, until Optimus' spike almost threatened to pop out, then slammed down the length of Optimus' spike again. It pulled back just as quickly, and thrust again over and over.
Optimus' optics rolled back into his helm, lost in the pleasure and the sensation. Lubricant dripped from the appendage, and it pushed all the way down, holding, the head squeezing as hard as it could. The pressure on his spike slide up its length, clamping down in a small ring that soon brushed up against the head of his spike - as it worked along to the tip, Optimus' entire frame reflexively tensed - and the pressure began at the bottom again, without a moment for him to relax.
The process repeated again, slowly, methodically, gradually building in speed - mimicking the sensation of an overload from the outside. Overload was very rapidly on its way for him, and Optimus felt no shame in relieving some of the pressure in his system with loud moans - every time the pressure wave reached his spikehead, one escaped his vocalizer.
Every time the pressure wave reached his spikehead, his entire frame tensed up, tighter and tighter. Optimus took the moments he had while the rest of his shaft was squeezed to relax that tension, but eventually, there was no escape - no turning back.
Something inside of him clicked, and two waves later, just as the wave passed over the edge of his spikehead, Optimus overloaded, loudly and forcefully. The tentacle immediately shot back, rubbing itself along his spike, milking him for every ounce of transfluid it could gather. Optimus let out several more cries as it continued to rub his hypersensitive tip - it was too much, but he wasn't getting let go.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Optimus found himself being lowered, back onto the ground. Vents roaring, frame drained from the drawn-out overload, he righted and focused his optics before sitting up, and noticed that his trinemates were in similar positions.
There was something about Optimus Prime being entangled in a writhing mass of tentacles that very much appealed to Megatron's interface protocols - and from the looks of it, the tentacles of Primus noticed as well. Megatron offlined his battle protocols, and immediately a tentacle wrapped around his legs, binding then together. His arms still free, Megatron struggled to free on of his legs, pulling and straining against the ever increasing grip.
Primus or not, Megatron was not one to be taken without a fight.
The tentacle jerked suddenly, pulling backwards and knocking Megatron flat on his face. The tentacle started to unwind as two others snaked forward, each slowly making their way up each of Megatron's legs. Servos digging into the ground, Megatron attempted to drag himself out the of grip simply by pulling himself forward, but even the small bit of progress he made was quickly overcome by the appendages.
A firm grip established, the two tentacles began pulling apart - and Megatron struggled back with every bit of force he could muster. Only his legs were bound, and Megatron reached down to push his legs further closed, contorting himself to reach around behind his back. The touch of his servo on against of them rippled down the tentacle, and yet another sprung out of nowhere, grabbing his arm and pulling it back until Megatron could barely touch the back of his feet. His chassis curved as far as he could bare, Megatron was no on his knees, being pulled around by the tentacles - another two reached up to keep his cannon arm bound appropriately.
A slender feeler wormed its way in between his legs- rubbing against the plating covering his interface array. Megatron bit down against his own intake rim, holding in the pleasure that crackled through his system at the touch. It was taking all of his energy to hold the position he was in while keeping his feet as close together as they were that he didn't notice the gradual widening of the throbbing mass between his legs - it grew, slowly, pushing his legs apart and holding the size. Megatron's optics widened in shock as the end split into innumerable small feelers - and the tip slid forward, turning to approach his plating directly.
The feelers were perfectly sized to slip between all of the seams, crackling gently with energy, and rubbing up against the sensitive protoform just underneath. They invaded and explode - never getting very deep, but feeling around and trying to find any slight gap that would allow them in further. Megatron's frame tensed as they teased him, the sensation building up stronger and faster, his resistance growing weaker and weaker.
And then, betraying him as though its name was Starscream, his interface panel retracted, his valve and spike both fully engaged and beginning to lubricate.
The tentacle between his legs pulled out, and Megatron prompted slammed his knees back together. It tried to edge its way back forward, but instead ran directly into the back of Megatron's legs. The two grasping his legs pulled - hard - but Megatron managed to overpower them, if only for a moment. It wasn't long until his strength wore out, and Megatron's interface panel was appropriately on display. Straining his helm a little, Megatron could see two new tentacles edging their way towards him - one solid, the other hollow. Megatron jerked and pulled against his restraints to no avail.
The first tentacle reached him - brushing up along the outside of his valve. The sensation froze his frame on the spot, and the tentacle rubbed back and forth, spreading his lubricant around the outside of his array. The second tentacle coiled along his spike - squeezing it in interesting patterns as it made its way up.
Megatron's grin widened as he fought back against the sensation flowing through his frame - Primus, Primus was good. His valve clenched as another tentacle pressed right at his entrance, out of both desire and resistance. It push again, harder, and Megatron fought back, writhing to keep it out of him for as long as he could manage. A pulse of pleasure shot down his spike, and Megatron's valve relaxed for just long enough to be penetrated - the tentacle sliding inside of him quickly.
A wicked moan escaped him; the two tentacles were moving in unison, one pumping inside him, and every time it pulled back, the tentacle around his spike squeezed down its length. Megatron pulled against the tentacles that bound his limbs, struggling to regain his control as his interface array was fragged with all the tender love that the warlord was known for.
Megatron could feel the overload, building up deep within him. Any moment and it was going to -
The pulses along his spike stopped. Megatron looked down: his spike was still completely enveloped, and he could still feel the other tentacle inside of him, pulsing slightly but no longer moving. The oncoming overload began ever so steadily to slip away, and Megatron heard the unmistakable sound of Optimus overloading. That alone was enough to build his charge back up, and after a short moment, the tentacle inside his valve redoubled its effort - fragging him even harder than it had been. Megatron bit down to keep his glossa inside his helm.
It was unlike anything he had experienced - being picked and fragged like a nothing more than a sparkling's toy. Another thrust, the force sending his helm flying back yet again, and Megatron let his voice out again. The tentacle was slowly thickening inside of him - Megatron could feel his valve getting stretched out, wider and wider with every thrust. The tentacle around his spike was changing two - squeezing tighter and tighter around his spike. Megatron could feel the contractions from the tentacle guiding his spike along in their own - a foreshadowing of what was-
Yes, oh Primus, yes… right… there… and -
Megatron overloaded, the contractions from his valve squeezing down on the tentacle inside him - and his transfluid shooting deep inside the other.
And the one inside of him continued - pushing him further and further. This was nothing unusual, and Megatron regained control of enough of himself to be able to squeeze along the length of the tentacle, forcing it to force him back open every time it slid inside of him. The sensors in his valve, already sensitive from the first overload, felt like they were on fire - a fire Megatron welcome as he peaked over into his second - his spike was still in its refractory stage.
And it continued. It had stopped expanding after his first overload, but Megatron managed to position himself well enough that he could just barely get some leverage himself. The moment he did, the tentacles pulled on him, taking control away from him again. After the third overload coursed through his frame, Megatron lost count of how many more rippled through him before the tentacles unceremoniously set him back down on the ground.
He hardly noticed Optimus and Ratchet boosting him up and bringing him back to their habsuite, nor them setting him down in their shared berth. Megatron's mind was still lost in the tentacles.
Ratchet looked at Megatron, and rolled his optics, fighting back the urge to laugh as the warlord fell to the ground. Not that he wasn't going to let the rest of his trine have all of the fun.
A few tentacles had begun worming their way towards him - smaller than the ones that had bound the other two, Ratchet couldn't help but noting.
"Pathetic." Ratchet watched as Optimus' first overload shook his entire frame. "Some bots re-he-heally don't know how to last."
A tentacle nudged as his pede, and Ratchet reached down and grabbed it. The raw cybermatter dissolved around his grip, reforming around his servos. Ratchet pulled at the mass. It refused to budge. Ratchet pulled again, and this time, it rippled pressure down his digits, gently rippling over the delicate sensors on the tips.
Ratchet's optics went wide for a moment, his frame frozen stiff from surprise and arousal. "Oh, is that all you got?" he sneered, even as a second tentacle began slithering its way up his leg. Ratchet balanced on the other one, shaking the now-bound leg until it was held firmly in place out behind him. The pulses on his servos began speeding up, and a third tentacle whipped up around his other arm before solidifying over his other servos. Force began dragging his arms back and behind him. "Oh no you don't," Ratchet said, straining and fighting to keep them in place.
But, with every burst of delicate pressure on his servos, Ratchet's position slipped, and soon both of his arms were being held behind him. For a moment, Ratchet felt the cybermatter liquify, and solidify - if he had to guess, all of his servos were now contained in the same mass of cybermatter.
The joints of the one leg he had left on the ground were beginning to strain, and the tension gave Ratchet something to focus on to distract from the pleasure radiating through his servo-tips. "You know, most mechs tend to suck," he muttered, the sensation in his servos just beginning to numb a little.
And, just like that, the sensation shifted. Tubes of cybermatter rubbed up and down along the length of his servos, like small clenched valves over each of the digits. "Oh-ho-ho, so you are listening." Ratchet laughed, the hardest he had in a long while. "Well then, mind getting me off my pede?"
Four tentacles erupted from the ground near his pede. They wormed up his leg, spiralling up and twisting around each other, and working their way over to his interface panel, rubbing along the outside and pressing against the seems.
Between the sensation from his servos, and the pressure on his panels, Ratchet's cooling fans finally kicked on. The tentacles kept rubbing, pushing, and Ratchet fought against the desire to just let his panel fly open.
"N-no, you don't," Ratchet said, using whatever bits of processor power he could wrest away from the sensations from his frame, "Not until you get me off my slagging pede!" The pressure on his pede remained constant, though. Ratchet strained against it, pushing a little in between the sensations that robbed him of his concentration.
He finally gave, taking the weight off the leg - and found himself fully supported by, well, Primus himself. Ratchet laughed again, even harder. For most of the war, he had been an atheist. He hadn't been the most devout mech to begin with, but the horrors he had seen only served to solidify his lack of faith.
And now, here he was, getting tied up and fragged by, well, by Primus himself. Ratchet's laugh slipped into a moan as a tentacle pressed against his plating just right, and Ratchet opened up his panel, timing his spike release in order to hit one of the tentacles as he pressured. "How do you like that one?" Ratchet cackled as the tentacle came back in for revenge, wrapping itself around his spike, squeezing for all it was worth.
"Ooooooh Primus!" Ratchet moaned, sarcastically and theatrically. "Oh no, I've been taken! Help me, someone!" A tentacle pressed up again his valve's entrance, and Ratchet wiggled his hips just enough to let it slip inside. "Oh no, whatever shall I do!"
Ratchet tossed his helm back to laugh, and a tentacle shot straight into his intake, only making in as far as the tip of his glossa. The tentacle in his spike had slipped off, and the one in his valve began pulsing against the rim of his valve - expanding to a size that Ratchet could barely handle and then shrinking back down to a size that just barely filled him, repeatedly and rapidly.
Ratchet tried to speak, but the tentacle muffled his words. It slid back, pulling just out of his intake, sitting just outside of him, and waving back and forth slightly. The medic gave it a big smile before sticking his glossa out and licking it right on the tip. It quivered, and so Ratchet repeated the gesture.
"Heh, you're just a big old spike, aren't you?" Ratchet asked as it slid forward again. Ratchet's glossa whipped around the cybermatter, rubbing it and trying to feel for any sensitive spots. Based on how it twitched as he played with it…
Well, Optimus had said that he had spent a lot of time doing this.
The tentacle in his intake slipped back and forth, gingerly. Ratchet rolled his optics, and turned the loudspeaker in his frame on.
Come on, Primus! You can frag me better than that!
The tentacle in his valve suddenly thrust inside of him, deep and hard. Ratchet's helm flew back reflexively, looking for a place to gasp, but the tentacle in his intake also shot deep inside of him, all the way back to the base of his glossa. The two tentacles pulled back in unison, quickly slipping back to the edges and slamming forward again. Ratchet could feel the charge filling up as the tentacles slammed into him from both sides, filling him up and making him feeling almost like he was being compressed. The tentacle in his intake paused, just on the edge of hitting his gag reflex, and the tentacle in his valve rested just on the other side of his entrance, taunting his almost empty valve.
What's the holdup?
Ratchet's frame was suddenly thrust forward - his back leg pulled straight back. Ratchet felt the pressure change - his arms were now holding most of his weight - and then his frame was shoved backwards onto the tentacle behind him. He was rocked back and forth, the two tentacles remaining firm as Ratchet felt the charge in his valve building up, higher and higher.
Oh Primus that's good.
The motion sped up, and at the tentacle in his valve began twisting back and forth, brushing all the sensors in his valves in both directions.
Oh Primus more!
Ratchet's valve clenched, trying to stave off the impending overload - sensations from his fingertips registered again, and Ratchet moaned through the tentacle as even node in his valve was brushed at once.
The overload shot through him, and Ratchet's frame shook, even in the position he was in. Ratchet's spark raced, and the tentacle in his mouth slipped back out. He panted, tentacle still firmly inside his valve.
"So, you're not bad for a mech your age, eh?"
The tentacles dropped him onto the ground, just in time to see Optimus get to the ground as well.
Ratchet was the first to get up off of the ground again.
"So, are all religious experiences this… moving?"
Optimus looked at him blankly as he got to his pedes. Ratchet reached a hand out, and felt a slap across his aft. He shot up straight, yelping.
Optimus pushed himself up to his pedes instead, turning to Ratchet. Megatron's first overload echoed around them, and Ratchet turned to face the warlord instead.
"So, how many do you think before Primus lets him go?"