Sonic Storm turned to face the desert with an exasperated huff – the sight of the endless plains as reassuring as that of the broken motor he had averted from. Heading off on bare hooves in this climate meant frying in the stark sun; hanging out in the car was the equivalent of waiting to be steam baked in his own sweat. The stallion wiped his brow, said salty moisture clinging to his fingers.
“I'll have to stick around. Chances are low, but its not like I am the only one on this road.” Silence encapsulated him.
-BHooonnnnnk- Until it was shattered by a truck's horn.
Sonic Storm witnessed a dot appear on the horizon, closing in was an eighteen wheeler in sparkling blacks and pristine silvers.
“Just headin’ up the trail?” the eel driver asked, through the open passenger door.
“Y-yaah, boy am I lucky you showed up, thanks for towing my car too,” he said and shifted up in the seat.
“Oh, aren't cha lucky indeed,” she said, revving the engine.
“It is lucky your cargo was practically empty,” Storm continued, “I mean what are the chances of that, with a truck, driving across…” his voice slowed, eyes peering towards the driver's seat, seeing the eel wildly tug the wheel here and there with a stale expression, the truck unaffected, carrying them straight ahead.
“… the whole dessert.”
“Aa-aahcx. Aren't-tt-t-t, c-ccha l-lu-lucky-eeeee-.” -Pptxhwth- After an array of static, the hologram driver flickered out of existence, and the encompassing boom of a feminine voice took over.
“Phahahaw, oh you most adorable fool. Did it just occur to you?” a screen flickered on, displaying a pair of radiant scarlet eyes, “my cargo was empty because you were the haul I've been looking for, ahaha~.”
Storm's expression froze, and breaking into a shout as the truck veered off course, driving into the sand; devoured by the desert.
~ 1 ~
“We've come to your final destination, everyone, out.”
The shout stirred Storm awake, just in time for the door to fling open and the seat to catapult him onto a spread of square block – which contrary to their appearance provided a comfy landing. He grasped his forehead, brazed stuck in a brace of impact, and but peeked out to witness the silver truck separate.
With mechanical clanks and reverberant winding cranks massive segments of metal slotted out, wound up, swung into place and folded in an intricate piece of metallic origami. Throughout the feat of contortions he made out the shape of arms, legs, a torso with pronounced pectorals, and at the top -Wrnrnctch- A head socked into place.
“But the ride has only just begun.”
“Pha, I got sand everywhere.” The near nine meter robot huffed, scratching her armpits and fiddling through furrows in her armours for sediment to trickle free.
“Last time I will allow trick diamond to relocate my headquarters.”
Her annoyance was genuine, instilling enough amity for him to dare address the gargant.
“Aahmw-why am I h-here? S-should I know who that is?”
Her scarlet glare shifted, flashing a smile and standing tall. “Your adorableness measures to no bounds, meatcontainer. Rejoice, for I have designated you the privilege join my ranks,” she brushed a palm down her frame, still dislodging sand, and placed it on her hips in a seductive gyration. “An intimate rank for you to join, as your feeble body shall be rendered mute, and improved upon to befit the likes of me,” she took a pause, and fist pumped into a grandiose flex, “Megaempress, ruler of Cybertron.”
The silence laid bloated between them; Megaempress awaiting fear, admiration, fawning, or all of the above; Storm, meanwhile, felt rude to interrupt, and understood nothing.
“That is a mouthful,” he eventually said.
A faint whirr broke the atmosphere as she angled her face towards him. “Excuse you?”
“M-megaempress, it is a massive name, yet, Is doesn't say much. Really impersonal when you think about it.”
Megaempress arms slumped by her side. “What…”
Storm swallowed. “I am just, o-ok I understand if this won't work out, I should just le-.”
But the robot was lost in thought. “Intriguing,” she admitted, and lowered herself to his level, body contorting to half her length, head resting a meter off his body. “Seems I did pick up a befitting specimen, in that case, you…” she said, scooping the stallion up into her grasp. “You… shall address me by…” a moment buffered, “Megam.”
“I-I really don't know what this is all abou-.”
“Urges,” Megam interrupted, “you organics know it, I share them. Despite your pitiful stature,” she began and held storm by his back leg, dangling at her pinched grip, “feeble processors, and frail capacity. You must be good for something. That is why I will make you presentable, a makeover, an upgrade… into a chassis befitting the toy of an empress.”
“Y-you aren't taken my body, I am not gonna be so-some plaything of a m-metal hulk,” Storm shouted, clutching over himself as the mechanical swung him to and fro.
“How rude, do you see this is your specie's highest honour?” she said with a jab of her finger into his gut, causing a shock-wave through his skeleton.
In the next moment, he was falling. The world whirling past him, and any moment to be met by tempered steel… -Bbngns- but to his surprise, as with the blocks below, is landed remained soft, pliable to the point he sunk into it. She had caught him, in a palm consistent not of soot iron, but of a plump silicone, bending to this whims of his frame.
“To be near-sighted, early to assume, another downfall of your species, you see a gargant of metal,” she began, and sat down, fiddling with the plates on her chest. “I will teach you to see so much more,” she assured.
A rhythmic electronic crank heralded her chest plates to dismantle and fold into her armour, in their stead a pair of hefty polymer orbs barrelled out -Bwngnsn- bobbing under the tons of weight they sported, their cup-size might as well have been 'mountain' from where Storm was positioned. Then, with her hand reaching in-between her legs, he saw plates sliding out of the way of her touch, unleashing a silken smooth pair of feminine lips – as tall as his leg – winking at him, with a trickle of lust pooling onto the ground.
“Your world is brutish, your society inconsequential, just like you and the rest of the species which birthed you,” Megam spoke, lips curling to a smirk as she traced her fingers over her oilpot, palm roaming back to fondle the jelly blimps adorning her chest, “but your mind, your spirit, its energon can house a better purpose. Imagine yourself, recycled as a malleable tool, for the exclusive use of your empress, one day you would serve as a fashionable pair of shades, the next a plug whose sheer girth will keep my pipelines in check,” she traced the palm carrying Storm close, to her body, touring along her frame whilst she regaled him with his uses.
“Perhaps a fancy pair of underwear, one of the few perks of your planet is its fashion,” she squeezed up the side of the palm to her chest, smothering Storm in the bobbing bosom, “think you could serve me well as a bra? Holding up all this… bulk,” she sampled the word, snickering as she withdrew her arm, allowing Storm to gasp for air.
“Make your choice, is it not grand? Tell me you wish to thank your empress for this opportunity,” she said with a quiver in her voice – as that of a record-player skipping forwards in erratic fractions of tape.
Storm stared up at Megam, reeled back into the plump embrace of her palm, the sinking into the silicone which swallowed him up with the same ease as her promises. Imagining himself close to her exquisite form, she might be bragging, but Storm would be lying if he covered the fluster tanning his khaki cheeks pink. “B-but… I am, unlike you,” Storm started, Megam’s expression turning firm. “As you s-said I… am organic, I can't… change my shape, that much.”
A smile haunted Megam's lips. “True, you are equal to mulch as you are now. Mincemeat. However,” she cleaved apart legs to let him down between them, funnelled towards her pit of radiant lust, undulating at his presence. “Within me, I carry cells from Omnicron, utilising their potential, I can rebuild you, relinquish that husk of flesh, and craft you,” she held the syllable, till her oilpot winked open, “in the image of your empress… “
Storm slumped to his knees before her, face devoured in nervous pink.
“Make a choice,” she prompted, leaning on her knuckle; so her bosom jostled to a bounce, “or keep your Megam waiting.”
