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“The era of Autobots has ended.”
A vile grin reflected in Optimus’ optics, searing in the torturous fate of him and his crew. He dared not to make a noise. Even as energon pulsed through his cables, his cooling fans remained off as a single slight movement or noise could lead to dire consequences. Optimus wished he could lower his helm, but the large servo of the cruel warlord kept him locked in place, forcing him to keep his optics trained upon the one mech he despised the most.
Megatron.
There was grunting behind him, for a split klik his optics darted to the side before realizing his mistake and dragging them back to Megatron, but it was too late.
The warlord hummed, immediately dropping Optimus’ helm and leaning back in his throne to lay a servo upon his chin. “Seems like you don’t care too much about your team, little Autobot.”
Chills ran down Optimus’ spinal strut as the gruff, choking voice of a familiar medic reached his audials.
“No please!” Optimus begged. With his servos tied and on his knees, the Autobot shuffled forward, trying to appear non-threatening as he clamored to the warlord’s legs and rested his chin upon his lap like a pliant pet. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, Megatron.”
He tried to appease a specific part of Megatron’s sick desires, presenting himself as a weaker being at the whims of his master. Luckily, such efforts proved fruitful as the cold look on Megatron’s face returned to his original chilling grin. The larger mech vented, satisfied with the quick change in demeanor and raised a single servos to command the bots behind Optimus to cease their brutality.
Optimus tried not to show his relief, but by the sound of several weapons being lowered, he knew that his crew was fine, at least for now.
“It’s much better when you do as I say, little Autobot-- oh wait, the Autobots are no more, silly me. Would you prefer Optimus Prime? Or just Optimus since the title of Prime is useless now.”
Optimus grit his derma behind a calm facade, trying not to let Megatron’s provocation get to him, even if what he said was the truth.
The era of Autobots has ended. A war that has spanned millions of stellar cycles has finally come to an end. The victor has been decided, and unfortunately, the Decepticons have taken claim of their throne and finally conquered Cybertron. The day of their defeat feels like a blur of memories that have become corrupted within his systems. Optimus tries not to think about the shattered looks on every Cybertronian’s face as Megatron lays waste to what remains of Iacon. To forget would be a disservice to the bots who lost their lives fighting for the Autobot cause, but to remember would cause his mistakes to weigh heavily in his spark as guilt spreads throughout his frame like a virus.
It was painful, too painful for Optimus, a fake hero to bear.
What matters now is still keeping the sparks of those closest to him pulsing for another cycle.
Megatron wasted no time in claiming his spoils of war, and made it very clear that Optimus was the number one prize he has desired to possess for so long now.
Throughout their fights on Earth, Optimus quickly noticed Megatron’s intimate touches and desperate looks. The Decepticon did not hesitate in making his desires known as with each brutal punch, he would follow with a delicate servo trailing down to massage at Optimus’ array. At first Optimus thought it was just his imagination due to being lost in the heat of battle. Very quickly the tension between them increased after their attempted rescue mission on Bulkhead. While Megatron held Optimus in his servos, he would pull the bot closer, whispering dirty promises into his audials. Optimus didn't want to admit it, but such claims did cause lubricant to pool inside of his panel. Luckily he was freed not long after and didn't have time to find out what Megatron meant by ‘eating you out’.
Now, things were different. Optimus was a slave following Megatron's whims. His choices would decide the fate of his friends who were forced to lay on the ground behind him and Megatron had made things very clear. Optimus would give himself up to save those he loved, or be taken by force as he watched his team be destroyed. The answer was simple, but Optimus still struggled to accept that the only possible salvation involved opening up his valve for Megatron's pleasure.
“You're quiet, contemplative, probably thinking about our deal?” Megatron mused.
His digits trailed over Optimus’ face, larger servos engulfing the Autobot’s helm with just a palm. Optimus resisted the urge to nestle his cheek into the mech’s intimate touch, craving the warmth of another bot after being locked in a cold cell for several solar cycles.
Megatron himself was a vigilant mech who didn’t miss the way Optimus’ optics fluttered and his puffy lips turned downwards into a pout as he tried to fight off his instincts to accept Megatron's intimacy.
“So beautiful…” Megatron whispered, words meant only for Optimus’ audials. “Why keep fighting when you can be mine, all mine.”
Megatron growled, sending shudders down Optimus’ spinal strut.
“My sweetspark, my beloved Optimus…” pointed digits swiped across Optimus’ bottom lip, pulling at soft mesh and sneaking in through taut corners to settle on his lubricating glossa. “Become my conjunx, and I promise your dear crew will survive.”
“Don't listen to him, Optimus!”
“Yeah boss bot, don't worry about us, we can totally take care of ourselves.”
“I don't need a kid sacrificing himself for me.”
“Don't do it, Optimus.”
The voices of his crew rung in Optimus’ audials loud and clear. The heavy weight that was settling in his chassis - engulfing his spark in grime and dirt - suddenly disappeared.
Unable to control himself, Optimus pulled away from Megatron's grip and turned around to look at the faces of his crew, his friends.
Ratchet, Prowl, Bumblebee and Bulkhead were lined up with their knees to the floor. Stasis cuffs kept them locked in place, forcing their arms behind their back as deadly cannons from loyal Decepticons were trained on the back of their helms. Optimus easily spotted their mangled limbs, grimacing as he noticed deep dents and gashes that dripped with energon.
Those precious to him were brutally beaten while Optimus laid at the pedes of their oppressor, acting like an obedient dog.
“Don’t worry about us boss, I heard all the femmes are into macho looking, beat up mechs,” Bumblebee reassured. “I think I pull off the bad bot look pretty well.”
Even with his visor on, Optimus could obviously tell that Prowl was rolling his optics.
“I also got a big room all to myself and 3 meals a day! I think it was 3, I kind of lost track of time since all I did was sleep most of the time.” Bulkhead contemplates.
Ratchet shakes his helm in disapproval of the other’s shenanigans and vents deeply. “What we’re trying to say is that we’re fine. Don’t worry about being a hero, we can take care of ourselves just fine, kid.”
Optimus tried not to let lubricant leak from his optics, but it was hard when his whole crew was looking at him with encouraging smiles. The constricting feeling in his spark felt like it was lifting, and for a second Optimus actually felt like everything was going to be alright, but the problem was, that nothing was fine at all.
“How disgusting.”
Fear gripped his spark in an instant. It was as if the temperature in the room dropped as a terrible darkness loomed over every bot in the vicinity. Optimus felt like his spark was being grasped and squeezed until slowly it started to crack and finally shatter.
“Kill them.”
From a single command the nameless Decepticons raised their servos, turning their fists into weapons that approached to slaughter the remaining Autobots.
“No! Megatron, wait please!” Optimus begged. He tried to propel his pedes forward, but was stopped by the strength of Megatron gripping him in place by the back of his throat. “Stop, make them stop!”
Optimus’ choked cries were heard on deaf audials. Megatron simply cackled with joy as he watched the cannons power up and the four bots try their best to remain fearless despite imminent death looming behind them. Bumblebee closed his eyes and recited a mantra under his breath while Bulkhead tried and failed to reason with the Decepticons behind them. Ratchet was loud, goading them to hurry it up since he already had half a pede in the well of the Allspark, and Prowl remained cool and collected, as if he already accepted his fate.
Yet, Optimus couldn’t. This wasn’t something that he could accept, and he knew that the only way to save them was to give himself up.
“You can beg and cry all you want, Autobots. I’m not going to stop, better yet, I’m actually going to enjoy this.”
Slowly but surely the cannons whirred to life, a faint light coming online as the power of the weapons shined within the barrel and-
“I’ll do it.”
“Hm?” With a whip of a single servo, the cannons ceased and Megatron looked down at the defeated Optimus with immense glee. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Gritting his derma, Optimus yanked his helm away from Megatron's grasp and turned to yell in his face. “I’ll do it! I’ll give myself to you, all of me, everything! I, Optimus Prime, promise to become the sole property of Decepticon warlord Megatron.”
He took a deep vent, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. “Just please… don’t kill them.”
Megatron grinned, releasing his hold on Optimus’ neck and turning the bot around to cup his chin. “Anything for you, my dear Optimus.”
Thus, Optimus’ fate was sealed.
Unable to look back at his friends, he kept his optics trained on Megatron, finally accepting defeat. If it meant saving those he loved, then Optimus would never hesitate to sacrifice himself a million times over.
A silence befalls the room, before suddenly a servo grasps his waist.
“To celebrate the start of our love, how about we consummate our relationship in front of your precious friends.”
“What?”
All energon drains from Optimus’ face as he looks aghast at Megatron. The larger mech holds a mischievous grin, saying nothing as he begins to maneuver Optimus into his arms.
“You didn't think I would just believe you like that, did you? Lowly words mean nothing to me, it's actions that truly matter.”
Optimus shakes his helm, his brain module feels like it's short-circuiting as he tries to make sense of what's happening. Everything seems to finally come together when he realizes that he had been placed upon Megatron’s lap, his spinal strut against the other’s chassis and his legs spread wide.
Oh god, he was going to get completely fragged by Megatron.
“Wait, not here, let us at least do it somewhere private!”
Megatron’s engines revved fiercely, spitting smoke which had everyone in the room stilling with fear.
“I am tired of waiting, Optimus. If you cannot show me your dedication, then I won't have any problems having your friends become one with the Allspark.”
Optimus whines, he hangs his helm low but knows that he has no time to ponder.
“Fine, let's do it, let’s interface, Megatron.”
His optics catch the looks of his crew below him. Optimus can see the grief and hesitation and he can't help but want to reassure them, taking on the role of the leader they always thought he was.
“It's ok,” he whispers. “Just please… don't look.”
Ratchet, Prowl, Bumblebee and Bulkhead each closed their eyes, following Optimus’ request. He notices Prowl specifically grit is derma, muttering something under his breath, but pretends like he doesn't see.
All that matters now is just him and Megatron.
It starts with Megatron trailing his glossa along Optimus’ audials. Optimus is unable to suppress a moan as his antennae are toyed by the warlord. They involuntarily flick back and forth, earning him a chuckle from the mech behind him.
“So responsive, I wonder if you’re just as sensitive down here,” Megatron emphasizes by using the palm of his servo to press on Optimus’ array panel.
“Fra- ngh~!”
The smaller bot's hips buck up, chasing a pleasure that begins to pool low in his abdomen.
“As much as I want to have a taste of your slick valve, I don't want to block the view from your companions.”
Optimus avoids looking over at his friends, opting to offline his optics as Megatron's servo begins to tease the edges of his interface panel.
With a large digit he flicks at the seams, pressing between where metal meets. Even through the plate he can feel heat accumulate behind the panel. Megatron grins, feeling the sticky lubricant begin to seep through the panel seams.
He licks his lip, just the thought of that pretty valve with its soft and plump lips has Megatron shuddering.
Succumbing to his desires, he leans in and digs his canines in Optimus’ neck cabling, forcing a cry from the Autobot’s vocalizer.
“Anh!” Followed by a weak whimper as Optimus’ cables throb from the painful bite.
Megatron has no concern about the pain he inflicts and leans in to whisper into sensitive audials. “Open up.”
It was a command, not a suggestion. Optimus considers pretending like he didn't hear, but he knows that the warlord doesn't take kindly to being ignored, and he doesn't want to toy with his wrath just yet.
Biting his lips, Optimus initiates his interface protocols and vents as his panel hisses open. A cool wind blows against his quivering lips and Optimus tries not to cry as his valve involuntarily clenches in response.
It is a pretty blue, soft silicone curve into plump lips that embrace the entrance to sensitive mesh. A node sits above the lips, budding and blinking to entice any willing bots to toy with it.
Megatron practically salivates and wastes no time in finally taking Optimus apart. A servo presses against fat lips as he uses the dribbling lubricant to coat his digits in a sheen of slick to more easily slide between the folds.
Optimus’ knees buckle, trying to force his legs to shut, but the warlord overpowers him and forces his thighs open.
“So wet, is this all for me?” Megatron asks. He flicks a single digit upwards, watching as a thin trail of lubricant follows. “My Optimus is so dirty.”
Optimus suppresses a whine. His internal fans immediately power on, trying to cool his heating frame as the sensation of Megatron teasing his valve and whispering dirty proclamations into his audials causes his temperature regulation systems to spike out of control.
“Ngh… Megatron, it hurts…”
Megatron hums, acting oblivious to Optimus’ pleas. Instead, he carefully circles the entrance to Optimus’ array-- drawing circles around the folds and spreading the mesh labia with his index and pointer digit. The warlord is appreciative at how Optimus’ valve blooms open, accepting Megatron’s ministrations with a glob of lubricant seeping from the pretty entrance.
Taking a moment, Megatron raises his optics to look at the trembling Autobots and smirks when he spots a peeking mech that had opened his optics.
Prowl.
The lithe bot bares his denta, not being afraid to convey his anger and jealousy at the Decepticon warlord.
How amusing, Megatron thinks. He returns to his assault on Optimus, eager to proceed with the show.
“Let me show you what it means to be the victor.”
With a sweetness not common to him, Megatron gently pecks the back of Optimus’ helm before shifting his grip on the bot’s waist and using three digits to carve his way into the Autobot’s gestation chamber with a single thrust.
Air is quickly forced out of Optimus as he feels his deepest parts violated. “Angh~! No my valve mmm ah ah!”
“it's so hot, so tight, frag you're so perfect.” Megatron growls.
The noises are wet and lewd. His digits thrust in and out of Optimus’ valve with such ferocity that it has the smaller mech bouncing back and forth on those three digits.
Megatron plays around with the intensity of his digits and stalls his wild thrusting to grind slowly against Optimus’ soft calipers. The warlord takes great delight in the smaller bot’s pleas, watching him buckle forward and spew static from his intake as his most private regions are thoroughly mapped by the large digits.
“Anh anh ah frag wait too- Ah too much!” Optimus screams, unable to escape the prodding digits.
His HUD sounds alerts over his optical field. warning of rising temperatures and corrupted circuits spreading throughout his frame. He tries to use a shaky servos to stop Megatron's abuse, but his strength easily fails him in the face of the warlord's raw power.
“How I desire to breach your chamber, coat your insides with my transfluid until you're bulging with our sparklings.”
A thumb trails up, pressing on the swollen anterior node and grinding on soft silicone. Electrical shocks run up Optimus’ spinal strut and for a klik his frame freezes from the mini overload that pulses in his valve.
Fluid begins to gush out from between the swollen lips. The juices create a puddle below the whining bot as the room fills with the scent and cries of debauchery.
“I promise to have you forever speared on my spike. Have you plugged in at all times and shown to the other Autobots and Decepticons so that they know who you belong to. You are mine Optimus, you hear me, mine, mine, mine .”
Megatron’s possessiveness is like poison. Ever since meeting the Autobot and crossing arms in battle, a sick and twisted desire had started to nestle within his spark. Optimus was a bot that had enraptured Megatron and he couldn't help but become addicted to those warped desires. He wanted more, to taste more and wholly consume him.
“My sweetspark, my wife, my conjunx…”
Optimus wanted to deny those claims, but a deep thrust had his optics rolling back and losing control of his vocalizer as spit dribbled down his intake.
“Ha ha ngh~ I can't ah, no more!”
“No more? Why sweetspark, the fun has just begun.”
Suddenly stopping his assault, Megatron slowly retreats his digits from Optimus’ sopping wet cavern, enjoying how the lips flutter in demand of something big and hard to return inside of them. He raises his servo and waves a sticky servo at the silent Decepticons. “Force their optics open, they will see what their so-called hero has become.”
Even while struggling to vent, Optimus quickly registers the command and regains his sanity. “No! That wasn't part of the deal!”
Megatron growls, not allowing him to speak. As punishment he pinches the pert anterior node in between his digits, eliciting a lewd cry that allows another squirt of transfluid to seep out, arching forward with the rest of the juices puddling below them.
“N-no ngh Megatr- ah!”
“Since our first meeting you have been mine. It is from my mercy that I have allowed you to walk free for so long, but these games are over now. You will be punished for ever thinking you had any autonomy in the first place.”
The Decepticons grapple with the Autobots. One by one they pull the bots up and dig pointed digits into their faces and around optics. The feeling of metal scraping against each other echoes in their audials as the pain of the imminent mutilation is too much to bear. Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead try to stall the inevitable, but the servos of the Decepticons who aim to force their optics are much too powerful.
Unfortunately they concede and are met by the frazzled blue optics of their leader.
Optimus sobs, shaking his helm. “Please don't… Please don't make them look.”
“Face the consequences, Optimus. You can never know love from anybot anymore. Let their disgust consume you and fall into depravity, right into my waiting arms.”
Ratchet, Prowl, Bumblebee and Bulkhead shake in anger. Some grit their denta, others leak lubricant from their optics, but no matter the action, they finally understand deep in their sparks that they have finally lost.
“I'm sorry…” whispers Optimus.
A soft hiss followed by hot air hits his valve as Optimus realizes that Megatron's large, pressurized spike has been released from its housing. The shaft is massive, springing forward and smacking Optimus’ wet valve lips. The head is bulbous, already leaking pre-fluid that trails down the side along the biolights meant to grind at the bot's sensitive calipers.
Optimus knows that the thick mass is going to literally engrave its shape into him, molding his gestation chamber into the perfect hole meant only for Megatron.
“Take a deep vent,” Megatron suggests. Lifting Optimus, he barely gives the bot a klik to prepare himself before fully sheathing himself inside.
Optimus chokes. The spike extends deep within his array, breaking his seal and forcing his calipers to stretch beyond what he thought was possible to accommodate the girth of such a mass.
Megatron gives a satisfied vent. He uses both servos to clutch Optimus’ waist and presses his digits between the Autobot’s abdomen where he feels the spike protrude against soft plating. “A perfect fit- ngh. It's like you were made for me, ah… my sweetspark.”
Just from the force alone Optimus loses control of integral bodily functions and is unable to control the sudden gush of transfluid that weeps from his valve. It squirts forwards and dribbles on the floor. Megatron gives him no time to get his bearings before he's lifting Optimus off of his spike, groaning as tight walls try to grip his shaft in place. He raises Optimus until he's almost unsheathed, before slamming him down and finally carving his way right into his gestation chamber.
Megatron no longer wastes any time and bounces Optimus like a free-use spike sleeve. Using him for his own pleasure and leaving an imprint of his spike deep within the dirty valve.
“Oh you feel so good, fits so perfectly, like you were made for me, all me.” Megatron babbles, pressing his helm against Optimus’ as he starts to get lost in the pleasure.
“Ngh ah ah frag ah too m-much~!”
“Mine mine mine…”
The pair become lost in their own world, sobs cries and squelching fill the room as Megatron finally takes what has always belonged to him.
“I h-hate you ngh!” Optimus sobs.
Megatron chuckles. He uses a servo to cradle Optimus’ face and pulls him closer so that his larger frame completely engulfs the smaller bot. In a way, it looks like he's trying to hide Optimus, hide him from prying eyes and the world which tries to fill his mind with thoughts of autonomy.
The warlord grits his derma. “Never in my life have I ever felt anything else but hate. Greed and agony have conquered my spark ever since emerging. Yet, you have found a way to mold my spark in ways I never could have imagined. You have ruined me, Optimus. You have destroyed my spark and built it anew with these wicked desires.”
Megatron grunts, thrusting now becoming erratic as he feels his own overload start to build up. He pistons deep inside of Optimus, making the bot dizzy with lust. Servos maneuver over the smaller frame, teasing inner thighs and sending static across buzzing nodes until finally-
“I love you…” Megatron cries desperately, whispering those sweet words for only Optimus’ audials to hear.
“Ngh ah~!”
They both overloaded in a symphony of cries, becoming addicted to the pleasure within their own worlds. Frames freeze from their combined overloads as the base of Megatron’s spike begins to bulge, starting the next phase of the interface protocols and knotting his conjunx for proper sparking.
Optimus on the other servo feels as if by the spike alone his inner systems were forcefully rewired. Major cabling and processors begin to move to accommodate the sticky fluid that has coated every nook of his array. He was full, abdomen bloating as protocols that he is not familiar with begin to make room for the creation of a protoform. Optimus bites his lips, ignoring those codes, believing them to be errors or a simple figment of his frazzled brain module.
After a moment Megatron is the first to speak. “Out, everyone out now!”
The Decepticons do not hesitate. They follow their lord's commands and drag the prisoners out of the room, not giving them a chance to respond to what just happened. The door to the chamber closes and it's just Megatron and Optimus sitting in their own filth, only their soft vents filling the room.
“You're an enigma, Optimus. Your very form has ingrained itself into my spark chamber. You’ve… changed me.”
Optimus vents, listening to Megatron speak. Looking up, he notices that the vision output of his optics has become blurred, but he at least realizes that the room has been completely emptied except for him and Megatron.The weight of Megatron’s frame settles behind him, a soft flow of air tickling his neck cables as their weary frames begin to come down from their overloads.
Below him his thighs are covered in fluids. The juices from his overload trail down ridges, melding into the seams of his joints and staining the floor with puddles of their filth.
Struggling to keep his optics online, Optimus uses the last of his strength to raise a shaky servos behind him and pat Megatron's helm.
“As you've ruined the lives of all Cybertronians, I hope I come to ruin yours.” He says before finally falling into recharge, hoping he can dream of a better tomorrow.