#thransvoremers

“How are you feeling?” Wing cared not for the Autobot’s feelings, but rather the information to be gained. Bright yellow optics pierced, demanding results, not compassion. Tight lips signaled impatience.

This was just part of his plan. And Sunder was the game piece. “Disgusting.”

“Oh, stop with the dramatics, baby cakes.” A servo swatted at the side flab as Wing stood, returning to the Senator.  The last breath garbled out from the dying mech, drowning out the mindless humming as Wing worked his Great Sword to carve up the next section for the feast.

Each chopping thud pounded at the Autobot’s spark. He knew sucking a mech’s innermost thoughts and secrets was wrong. Stealing those prized possessions was criminal, and remembering his past riddled his frame with guilt. And having to do this again was pure agony.

But addiction didn’t care. Having that intense craving for that metallic tang of innermost energon surge through his frame didn’t shy away because of morality. No amount of home-cooked meals could provide this: it was only consuming the raw materials of another living Cybertronian that could blow his circuits. His belly let out a demanding growl as freshly cut slivers were brought to him and pressed to his lips.

He cursed his crumbling restraints as his mouth opened, eagerly accepting the offering.

“There’s a good mech,” Wing cooed as happiness pulsed through the shared cables. “Deep down, you know I provide for you. I know what’s best.”

Mouthfuls of crunchy plating mixed with wires and cabling piled in. Each crunch tormented his processor with the question of why he was doing this. Each chew of wires squished out sweet energon, teasing his taste receptors. Each swallow splashed out vibrant colors, filling his mind with hidden information.

And when those secrets of treachery flowed, the Senate's plan to hoard energon, to cut funding to the less fortunate, or to veto the needs of safety measures for the poor mechs stuck working the mines, Wing sucked the data through the cabling like iced energon slurped through a straw.

And it brought a smile to his face.

“So, they are up to no good, hmmm?” The flier shook his helm as he pushed more arm inside. “And here they claimed I was too much of an extremist for politics. Imagine that!”

Once swallowed, Sunder gasped for air. His helm spun with the data that filled his mind, all the colors that flashed brightly, and all those sweet and savory tastes that zapped his receptors. His belly grumbled despite the overstimulation.

Wing smirked and held up the next section that dripped with energon. “Does my baby want some more?”

The devouring urge resurfaced, nagging at the back of his helm. And consuming energon fresh from the source soothed all his worries. That foggy daze of confusion washed away reality, leaving a blissful contentment. With the warm energon and fresh raw materials filling his stomach, the craving intensified.  Was that fluttering sensation in his tummy from guilt? Or was it now unfiltered pleasure?

Without any thought, Sunder nodded his helm. Any thoughts were drowned out by greedy desire. He was starved, and filling his belly with this wretched mech was the only way to satiate the famished beast within. He needed to feel complete. He wanted to be stuffed to the brim with the most decadent of all foods.

“Please....” Sunder moaned, wiggling in his restraints.

“Please, what?” A voice cooed, but it was laced with poison.

“Please.... feed me.”

“You want to continue this feast?”

The sneer on his feeder’s face was filled with malice as bursts of hot reds flared, but all the Autobot could think of was eating; he needed that next jolt of sweetness running down his throat. He needed that feeling of bliss to radiate inside his frame. He needed that next fix. “Yes.... Pr... Wing....feed me, please....I’m starving...”

“Starving, you say?” Wing held out the next bit, but kept it just out of reach, enjoying watching Sunder lurch forward, desperately snapping his jaws. “I seem to recall you claiming this was disgusting...” Energon dripped onto the berth, causing the hungry mech to whine. “...How horrible of a mech I was.” Lips turned downward in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, how you snubbed the meal I provided-“

“Feed me, Wing!” Sunder all but whined as desperation kicked in. “Make my cravings go away...”

“Do you wish for me to take care of you?” Sunder frantically shook his helm. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, Wing!” Now that his vice of choice dangled right in front of him, it’s control guided his processor to one thought alone: obtaining more.

“Do you like me taking care of you?”

“You take care of me the best...” His tummy violently rumbled. The euphoric feeling flowing through his cables quickly washed away any lingering guilt. “Please....”

Wing moved the handful of mech closer. “Will you obey me, sweetspark?”

“I’ll do anything you say!” Blue optics focused on the treat, following its movement like cyberbugs drawn to a zapper.

This time, the food was brought to the others' lips, but teeth snapped in the air when the mouth went to bite. “You promise? You gonna be a good mech for me? Do as I say?” The mnemosurgean nodded, never taking his optics off the flesh he longed for. “And you promise to never leave me?”

“Never Wing! I’ll never leave you.... just... “

“Just what, my love?” Wing grinned. “Tell me what you want.”

“Just feed me!”

“Have I ever disappointed you, sweet spark?” The flow of vibrant golds and yellows revealed satisfaction as Wing allowed the other to gobble the food. As soon as that handful vanished, another large chunk was offered. And Sunder tore into that like a starved beast. “Oh, just look at the mess you are making!”

Between biting into the plating, ripping apart the metals, and gulping down chunks, energon dribbled down his chubby face, pooled on his chest, and even trickled down his ample stomach. But does a ravenous mech truly care about proper manners? His long tongue licked his sticky lips, even lapping at the liquid that dribbled down the flier’s servo.

“Oh my, look how your healthy appetite returned!”  The Spiritualist purred, engines rumbling as his wings fanned behind him. That sparkle in his optics returned, and a grin spread across his face. “Oh, you are such a blessing to us, Sunder.”

Wing returned to the table, quickly freeing and cracking open the chassis, then returned to his prized pet. Perched on the edge of the berth, he gently patted a thick thigh, then gave a loving squeeze before resuming the handfeeding. His servos dipped inside, yanking handfuls of energon-slickened wires and pressing them between the mnemosurgeons' lips. “You truly belong here, taking your place to rule at my side.”

The only response Sunder could give was a needy moan as his tongue twisted over the wiring, slurping them up as if they were lithium noodles drenched in fancy sauce.

“You truly deserve to be rewarded for such obedience, hmmm?” A fistful of innards was offered, and as Sunder sucked in cabling, the door to the berthroom opened. Cloaked mechs carrying decorative floral arrangements and candles entered, slowly circling around the berth. Softly spoken chants sang out, thanking Primus for the success of this feast that provided the once hidden information.

“Primus blessed us with your presence.”  

The flier straddled himself over the other’s legs, cozily perched on a fattened lap. Sunder noticed the added heat from the other’s crotch plating in between chewing mouthfuls of mech, but focused more on the hand that caressed his belly- and the hand that continued to feed him.

“In Primus we thank.” The chorus rang out, each taking a turn to light their ceremonial candle. Their faces glowed under their hooded cloaks as the flame flickered. The floral scent returned, filling the room with sweet smells of spring.

“You are my prized disciple.” Devious golden optics gazed with all the glory of a crazed mech. “Chosen by Primus to stand by my side and to lead us through these dark times with the knowledge you provide.”

“Lead us and provide us with knowledge...”

Both servos wedged between the Senator’s chassis, and with a quick pull, they cracked open. Wires were ripped out, along with the metal framework. “Primus told me one would come to serve me with my plans. And I was overcome with joy when I discovered it was you.” Another firm yank freed the round orb from the once Senator’s chest. “And I believe this calls for a celebration.”

Sunder’s optics grew large, and drool nearly dribbled from his lips. The most prized morsel was clasped between the Spiritualists' servos, glistening with fresh energon. Despite being clean for ages, the lusciously rich taste of one’s spark was always remembered, lingering on the back of his tongue. Always cherished. Always desired.

The Autobot licked his lips as his engines revved. His frame warmed in excitement at the promised treat. Servos tugged at the restraints, not seeking freedom, but rather his desire. Sharp teeth flashed. Belly loudly grumbled. His entire frame squirmed like a savage beast, aching with need.

“Oh, how you get so needy...” Wing purred with half-lidded optics. The revving of his engine whined with familiar tones as those hips rocked with heated fervor.

Sunder eagerly nodded.

“Don’t I always provide just what you need?”

Sunder desperately shook his helm in agreement, his own frame warming to match his Leader’s.

“Be a good mech and eat up.”

That warm, golden orb pressed against his lips. Sunder’s tongue snaked out, wrapping around the cherished treat, lapping up any energon that dripped from its surface. Coes and moans joined in the chorus of chants, the taste awaking such a passionate lust for this forbidden fruit. Sunder’s lips ghosted over the metal surface before revealing a toothy maw.

“Atta boy...” The Spiritualist’s voice was deep and haughty. “Eat for me.”

Sharp teeth crunched through the tough outer shell, cracking it open to release the coveted gooey center. Sunder hummed, engines purring and nearly stalling in delight. The center was the best part: innermost energon tasted like the sweetest nectar and always left him wanting more. Gulp after gulp of fluid was swallowed, the mnemosurgeon cooing needily as the fluid coated his throat and lined his tummy.

“Drink....” Wing all but moaned, breathing deeply as his frame trembled. The spark gently tipped, readily feeding the hungry mech. His free servo ghosted over the flabby belly, encouragingly rubbing the growling beast.

Sunder swore he felt the flier’s frame shiver as those hips rutted against him. Wing’s face was relaxed, lips parted in a silent moan, cheeks flushed, and golden optics pierced. Something hard pressed into the soft flab of his lower belly...but as long as that sweet juice spilled into his mouth, the Autobot didn’t care.

Once again, Sunder was hooked on cannibalizing mechs.

Apparently, Wing got off on it.

All finished! ( there was an error in the initial header, miscounted chapters) Hoe you all enjoyed!