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ayngelcatTitle: One Frustrated Stunticon
Universe: G1
Characters: Drag Strip, fantasies of Groove
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Smut, sticky, thoughts of masturbation and graphic descriptions, coarse and sexual language
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: 23 October 2011. "I could do with a little help here!"
Notes Part of the Protectobot Series, (on here) and follows this. The final version will have more added to it - but this was a good speedwriting prompt to kick it off! (Speedwriting rocks <3)
One Frustrated Stunticon, Part 1
First Aid strutted out of the medbay, closely followed by. Groove. There was a hiss as the door opened and shut. Then Drag Strip was alone.
The Stunticon let out a sigh. Without the effect of First Aid's local sensory isolation, his repaired leg now throbbed, painfully. The Stunticon shifted on the medberth. He ached all over now, and his mouth felt dry. Slag. It was annoying! As was the fact that they'd gone, leaving him here all alone and unentertained.
Typical slaggin' 'Bots! Ideas of running amok in the medbay, smashing things, maybe spray painting something obscene right where it would piss the smart afted medic off the most ran through Drag Strip's processor. Cos yeah, that First Aid was a smart aft - even if half the Cons did wanna frag him, and even if he did have a cute butt. He needed teaching a lesson, showing who was the best! No different from any other Autopratt.
But Drag Strip was all achey, and when he lifted his head, the room spun. Besides, it dawned on the Stunticon, where in sigma was he gonna get some spraypaint?
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Drag Strip stared at the ceiling, allowing his mind to wander back to the 'little operation' he'd just had.
A smile appeared on the Stunticon's face. That bike-nurse, he was kinda - nice! All beige and smooth, and he smelt good. He’d sent all soothing sensations over Drag Strip’s sensor net and when Dragstrip had sent a charge back through, he’d gotten off on it. Ooohhh yeah - Drag Strip had felt the bike's field flare. And it was good. Sharp. Responsive. Sent a nice jolt through his own systems. And that was only through a medical port! Imagine how it would be jacking into his primary interface ....
He’d had a nice little bulge in his codpiece, too ….
The Stunticon's smile turned predatory. Despite the aches and the pain in his leg, the components twitched beneath his interface panel and he felt his spike pressurise behind its casing. Mmmnnnn .... nice .... Drag Strip’s mind wandered further, imagining Groove’s primary panel gliding open, the Protectobot's field crackling, his intakes rasping as Dragstrip fingered the components. Then Drag Strip would slide a hand down that smooth metal. Down to the nurse’s valve cover.
Drag Strip shivered, his energy field letting out a sharp flare as his intakes sucked air in a rapid hiss. Oohhh yeah .... Groove would be dying for it, his ports wide open, his valve aching and wet. He'd look around just to check the medic wasn’t watching - pity, but Bots were paranoid fraggers like that - but then he’d shuffle closer to the berth and part his legs and grab Dragstrip’s hand, and he’d say: All right, no fraggin’ around. Just give it to me ....
Cos everyone knew the Autobots put on all this prim and proper, self righteous scrap, but underneath it all they were dirty little slaggers ....
Awww yeah, veery nice! Drag Strip’s charge was building, his core temperature shooting up fast. Rearranging himself a little, he allowed his spike cover to retract and his ample appendage to emerge, hard and gleaming as his primary panel slid open and the tip of the connector emerged, sparking hungrily.
More thoughts of Groove, the smoothness of his exoskin, his soothing beige hues, his aromatic scent mingled with lubricant filled the Stunticon’s processor. Oohh it was magnificent! And Groove's cable would explode out in wanting, and at the same time he’d be dragging Drag Strip's hand to his valve, all hot and waiting, willing him to shove his fingers in. Just wanna come soon and hard ... he'd rasp .....
Trembling with charge, Drag Strip glanced up at the medbay ceiling. Oh sigma, was he gonna blow. So much for no entertainment. And the nurse didn't even have to be here - that light above was gonna short out with the volume of transmech fluid which was gonna explode over it in a minute! Drag Strip cackled out loud. Oh yeah, wait till he told the others about this – they’d practically flood their casings.
Making throaty noises, Drag Strip allowed himself a few clicks of glorious anticipated pleasure, before he reached for his spike ….
And found he couldn’t. Not at all. His wrists refused to leave their sides! At some stage either First Aid or Groove had secured them there. And he hadn’t even noticed.
“Son of a glitch!” Drag Strip cried out in horrified surprise as his wrists collided with the restraints. "No, no, NO! Frag it! No slaggin' way!"
He began to writhe, fully charged now, his circuits brimming, his spike quivering for release as the thoughts of Groove flooded in and he could neither stop them or get them out of his processor. "Arrrggghhh" he wailed. "Nooooo! I gotta blow ... I gotta blow, frag it!"
Red lights and warnings began to flash in Drag Strip's HUD. He had to get to his spike. Damn it! There was a nuclear explosion waiting on the medbay berth here and it had to go off! “You low down medical piece of pit! Let me outta here right now or I’m calling up the whole Decepticon force!” Drag Strip bawled.
But no relief in the form of a sweet smelling beige bike roared through the door. No salvation from the torment made itself known at all.
“DOC!!” The Stunticon roared. "Nurse! Anyone! get your white an' red an' brown afts in here. I need some help!"
Universe: G1
Characters: Drag Strip, fantasies of Groove
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Smut, sticky, thoughts of masturbation and graphic descriptions, coarse and sexual language
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story
Prompt: 23 October 2011. "I could do with a little help here!"
Notes Part of the Protectobot Series, (on here) and follows this. The final version will have more added to it - but this was a good speedwriting prompt to kick it off! (Speedwriting rocks <3)
One Frustrated Stunticon, Part 1
First Aid strutted out of the medbay, closely followed by. Groove. There was a hiss as the door opened and shut. Then Drag Strip was alone.
The Stunticon let out a sigh. Without the effect of First Aid's local sensory isolation, his repaired leg now throbbed, painfully. The Stunticon shifted on the medberth. He ached all over now, and his mouth felt dry. Slag. It was annoying! As was the fact that they'd gone, leaving him here all alone and unentertained.
Typical slaggin' 'Bots! Ideas of running amok in the medbay, smashing things, maybe spray painting something obscene right where it would piss the smart afted medic off the most ran through Drag Strip's processor. Cos yeah, that First Aid was a smart aft - even if half the Cons did wanna frag him, and even if he did have a cute butt. He needed teaching a lesson, showing who was the best! No different from any other Autopratt.
But Drag Strip was all achey, and when he lifted his head, the room spun. Besides, it dawned on the Stunticon, where in sigma was he gonna get some spraypaint?
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Drag Strip stared at the ceiling, allowing his mind to wander back to the 'little operation' he'd just had.
A smile appeared on the Stunticon's face. That bike-nurse, he was kinda - nice! All beige and smooth, and he smelt good. He’d sent all soothing sensations over Drag Strip’s sensor net and when Dragstrip had sent a charge back through, he’d gotten off on it. Ooohhh yeah - Drag Strip had felt the bike's field flare. And it was good. Sharp. Responsive. Sent a nice jolt through his own systems. And that was only through a medical port! Imagine how it would be jacking into his primary interface ....
He’d had a nice little bulge in his codpiece, too ….
The Stunticon's smile turned predatory. Despite the aches and the pain in his leg, the components twitched beneath his interface panel and he felt his spike pressurise behind its casing. Mmmnnnn .... nice .... Drag Strip’s mind wandered further, imagining Groove’s primary panel gliding open, the Protectobot's field crackling, his intakes rasping as Dragstrip fingered the components. Then Drag Strip would slide a hand down that smooth metal. Down to the nurse’s valve cover.
Drag Strip shivered, his energy field letting out a sharp flare as his intakes sucked air in a rapid hiss. Oohhh yeah .... Groove would be dying for it, his ports wide open, his valve aching and wet. He'd look around just to check the medic wasn’t watching - pity, but Bots were paranoid fraggers like that - but then he’d shuffle closer to the berth and part his legs and grab Dragstrip’s hand, and he’d say: All right, no fraggin’ around. Just give it to me ....
Cos everyone knew the Autobots put on all this prim and proper, self righteous scrap, but underneath it all they were dirty little slaggers ....
Awww yeah, veery nice! Drag Strip’s charge was building, his core temperature shooting up fast. Rearranging himself a little, he allowed his spike cover to retract and his ample appendage to emerge, hard and gleaming as his primary panel slid open and the tip of the connector emerged, sparking hungrily.
More thoughts of Groove, the smoothness of his exoskin, his soothing beige hues, his aromatic scent mingled with lubricant filled the Stunticon’s processor. Oohh it was magnificent! And Groove's cable would explode out in wanting, and at the same time he’d be dragging Drag Strip's hand to his valve, all hot and waiting, willing him to shove his fingers in. Just wanna come soon and hard ... he'd rasp .....
Trembling with charge, Drag Strip glanced up at the medbay ceiling. Oh sigma, was he gonna blow. So much for no entertainment. And the nurse didn't even have to be here - that light above was gonna short out with the volume of transmech fluid which was gonna explode over it in a minute! Drag Strip cackled out loud. Oh yeah, wait till he told the others about this – they’d practically flood their casings.
Making throaty noises, Drag Strip allowed himself a few clicks of glorious anticipated pleasure, before he reached for his spike ….
And found he couldn’t. Not at all. His wrists refused to leave their sides! At some stage either First Aid or Groove had secured them there. And he hadn’t even noticed.
“Son of a glitch!” Drag Strip cried out in horrified surprise as his wrists collided with the restraints. "No, no, NO! Frag it! No slaggin' way!"
He began to writhe, fully charged now, his circuits brimming, his spike quivering for release as the thoughts of Groove flooded in and he could neither stop them or get them out of his processor. "Arrrggghhh" he wailed. "Nooooo! I gotta blow ... I gotta blow, frag it!"
Red lights and warnings began to flash in Drag Strip's HUD. He had to get to his spike. Damn it! There was a nuclear explosion waiting on the medbay berth here and it had to go off! “You low down medical piece of pit! Let me outta here right now or I’m calling up the whole Decepticon force!” Drag Strip bawled.
But no relief in the form of a sweet smelling beige bike roared through the door. No salvation from the torment made itself known at all.
“DOC!!” The Stunticon roared. "Nurse! Anyone! get your white an' red an' brown afts in here. I need some help!"
