D-16 skirt panel

Counting down the days until they made their move towards landing on earth had left Sentinel with more dread than relief. Much to his embarrassment, the only real escape he could find was at the very root of his problem and the reason for his fears: stuffing himself silly in his downtime and indulging in more than his fair share of sweets when the lights were off, the doors were closed, and no one else was around.

There was no hiding the consequences of his actions anymore. The fat on his frame far outweighed the bulk he still carried, even after a handful of plating adjustments. Sentinel’s top-heavy build and slim, admirable silhouette had been reshaped into something big, something round, and something unbecoming of a mech of his rank and authority. He was fat for Primus’ sake, and it was all his fault. Now, as he gathered up the courage to face his next big mission like a leader and joined Ultra Magnus on the trip to earth, he finally started to regret ever letting himself get to this point.

Sentinel’s pride was the biggest problem, he knew, and all of the rest of the troubles he faced in the equation that led to this undesirable outcome were directly caused by him, too. Elita’s death was no accident, and the gaping rift between himself and Optimus was made all the more painful when Sentinel added to the distance between them by his own actions. He worked for Ultra Magnus now, and he had been for ages. It was a stressful position, and it demanded more of him than he was sure he could give, but with his rocky past and the self-inflicted pressure weighing down on his shoulders, Sentinel knew he had no choice but to keep plowing through it.

The downtime certainly helped, even when it didn’t. When Sentinel’s thoughts got the best of him, he’d learned to distract himself. Food made a good distraction for a while… until the distraction became a habit, and the habit became a lifestyle. He was paying for it now as he squirmed in his seat aboard the Elite Guard’s flagship, his frame painfully squished into a too-small chair as the safety harness dug into the pudge on his belly that he was sure hadn’t been there the day before.

Sentinel was nervous about this. He hadn’t seen Optimus for months, and he hadn’t dared to let anyone in on his excessive reliance on his latest vice. The effects were clear as day regardless, and he was sure that once they landed, the perfectly crafted image of himself he had hoped Optimus would keep tucked away in his mind during the long span of time they were separated would be hilariously shattered in a way Sentinel was not ready to see.

Sentinel steeled his nervous expression into something more controlled as he glanced through the ship’s sleek windows and glowered at the sight of the dark, dirty world below. Ultra Magnus was already heading for the landing strip as the hatch opened, followed closely behind by Jazz as their third companion went to help greet the earth crew. Sentinel, for his part, stayed seated as long as he could as he fiddled with his seat’s restraints and tried to find a way to stand that didn’t show off the awfully prominent belly he was sporting nowadays. When minutes passed without any sign of someone coming back to retrieve him, he let his shoulders slump with a pitiful sigh before gathering himself up again and making the long walk out there.

Every step across the ship’s floor had him feeling more and more confident, and with the silence making room for him to chant his own personal pep talk to himself inside of his own helm, Sentinel was starting to feel a lot better by the time he made it to the top of the landing strip and stood looking out at the group of Autobots waiting down below.

It was a much bigger ego boost than it should’ve been, being the last one out of the ship and pretending as though everyone outside was just dying for him to come join, but Sentinel indulged himself in it. He puffed out his chest and propped his servos on his hips, not even shuddering at the dirty stench in the air or the way the planet’s oxygen seemed to circulate more sluggishly through his vents. It felt good, and for a brief moment, he had forgotten all about his new look. That is, until—

“Woah!” he heard someone say from down below, and quickly snapped his helm around to spot Bumblebee staring up at him with narrowed optics and a servo shielding his face from the sun. “Hold up, guys. Is it just me, or did the Elite Guard trade in their number one macho-mech for the cheap, chubby alternative while we were away?”

Almost instantly, Sentinel deflated, his face burning hot as energon bubbled up his fuel lines and flushed in his cheeks. He snorted and scoffed, covering up the lapse in attitude by crossing his arms and stomping the rest of the way down onto the ground, but his reaction to Bumblebee’s words only seemed to fuel the scout’s taunting.

“No way,” Bumblebee laughed as Sentinel drew closer, the effects of snacking on sweets and treating his sweet tooth much more clear up close. “Look at you! You really did let yourself go, didn’t you?”

Sentinel sputtered over a retort, his face turning even darker as he stumbled over his words and stared down at Bumblebee with wide optics and a gaping mouth. Bumblebee didn’t stop there, though, and as Ultra Magnus turned from where he stood speaking to Optimus and directed the fellow Prime’s attention to Sentinel, Bumblebee took the moment to jab a finger into the soft, round pouch of mesh fat covering Sentinel’s belly.

“Enough of that!” Sentinel managed to shout, grabbing ahold of Bumblebee by the hand and swatting him away before there could be any more physical jabs at his weight. “I am not any different than I was before—!”

Just as quickly as the words came, they died on his tongue as he directed his angry glare from Bumblebee to the rest of the group, just in case they may have anything to add to it. It was when he caught Optimus’ optics that he stopped himself short, his breath catching in his throat and his spark turning in its housing with a painful jolt of electricity that he felt running in tingles down his limbs.

Optimus was staring. Wide-eyed and raised brows, mouth twisted into a look Sentinel couldn’t decipher and hadn’t ever seen before, optics lingering on Sentinel’s face before moving downward slowly, taking in every minute detail like Sentinel would dissolve back into a distant memory if he didn’t take the chance now to see him for what he had become.

It felt vulnerable in a way Sentinel had never felt before, and while he found himself bristling under Optimus’ gaze—as well as the rest of their stares, because now everyone was looking at him—he couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by it, too.

Optimus had never looked at him like that before. He’d never looked at anyone like that before, as far as Sentinel was aware. Suddenly, he was far too aware of his frame, too, and the way he had changed so drastically since they had last seen each other. His pudgy thighs, his big belly, the extra weight he carried on his front and in his chest that couldn’t be attributed to a bulky earth-mode he’d just had to choose.

Bumblebee’s teasing had made his cheeks hot, but watching Optimus walk up to him with something just short of a smirk and a look in his optics that left Sentinel feeling more embarrassed about this moment than he’d ever thought he’d feel hit him differently. He made an audible sound when Optimus stopped just short of him and crossed his arms over his chest, looking him over with a curious eye that made Sentinel want to shrink into his own plating.

Not that that would be happening anytime soon. He’d practically outgrown this set of plating, too, and he’d only just had it adjusted to fit him again the past week.

“You certainly have changed,” Optimus said with a tilt of his head as he reached out to rest a servo on Sentinel’s shoulder. “The new look suits you. Maybe we can take this as a sign that your priorities have shifted since we last spoke, then?”

He paused, his smirk turning into a full-fledged smile, as his servo moved lower until it rested along the line of Sentinel’s arm where pudge spilled out of carefully constructed plating. He gave it a squeeze, and Sentinel nearly yelped in surprise.

“Perhaps even your appetite, for that matter?” Optimus added with a wink, his voice just low enough for Bumblebee to catch and just teasing enough for Sentinel to take as a joke, even despite the pointed look Optimus gave him.

He burned all over at that. Red hot shame bloomed under his plating and left him jerking free of Optimus’ grasp to storm away from the group while Bumblebee stood bent over in a laughing fit and Optimus stood watching him go.

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. The embarrassment clung to him like ill-fitting plating for the rest of the day, even after the group amusement had died down and Bumblebee’s initial taunting had stopped. Optimus, to Sentinel’s surprise, didn’t, and as the day passed, the pointed teasing continued—just loud enough for Sentinel to hear, just vague enough to keep him guessing.

He still didn’t know what to think of it, and he still didn’t know what to say. Either way, the teasing continued… his embarrassment lingered… until by the end of it, with his face perpetually hot and his belly being poked again—not by Bumblebee, but by Optimus, who was staring at him with that strange look again and studying him with those soft, mischievous optics—Sentinel wasn’t sure that he was so embarrassed by it after all.