Ghosts

Ghosts VII

Moonracer stared at her reflection in the window, masked by the stars that seemed just out of reach. She had already lost her mentor and maternal figure. The pale femme couldn't bear to lose Perceptor as well. In the background, she heard Chromia shuffling about, most likely trying to distract herself from leaving her own mate. She knew the elder female would never admit to it, but she loved Ironhide dearly.

Moonracer shuttered her optics, concentrating on the new spark pulsing within her. The sound resembled the motion of water; soothing and rhythmic. I wonder what it’ll be - a mech or femme? Chromia said it was all about how it was conceived. Great; I should ask what “over the desk” means. She parted her lips in a quiet sigh as she recalled that fateful night. He was aggressive, feral, eager to satisfy those primal urges...

She grunted as her upper body collided with the desk’s cold surface. The metal of her chassis scraped painfully against the steel, yet it was a pleasant sensation that actually heightened the pleasure. The female climbed further onto the desk, spreading her thighs as she whimpered with need. She could feel his hands sliding along her aft, coaxing more lubricant from her valve. “I’m... I’m burning up...” she muttered, clawing at the desk. Without warning, the sniper slid a finger past the valve’s rim, causing her to instinctively push back against him. “More!” she pleaded.

He growled low in his throat and added another digit, working them against the valve, moistening the pliable metal. Moonracer purred, shifting her hips with each penetration; “Perceptor... m-more... hn... m-make it stop...” He finally leaned in to drag his glossa over the sensitive rim, flexing the segmented appendage into the soft orifice. The femme arched her back as her insides quivered; she shuttered her optics and emitted a few clicks of approval. The sniper answered her with his own mechanical noises while he relished her taste and scent. She was more than ready...

Holding her hips in place, he pressed the engorged head of his spike against her valve, causing her to moan in anticipation. She soon began to squirm, wanting desperately to be impaled upon that thick phallus; “Perceptor~” she whined. The erotic sight was too much; he penetrated her forcefully, making the femme fidget with pain. She clawed at the surface, attempting to get away as the ridges became rough, preventing the mech from withdrawing completely. Perceptor finally leaned over and grasped the back of her neck between his teeth, holding her still as he began to move his hips in sharp, calculated thrusts. And as the pain ebbed away, intense pleasure coursed through her; she released a trill of delight as he caressed her deepest sensor nodes.

She reached her overload with a sultry groan, her hips pushing back with each forward motion as she rode out the orgasm. Perceptor gripped her hips tightly, pulling the femme harder against him as his thrusts became shallow and quick. Her inner walls gripped and massaged his throbbing member, pushing him over the edge, the viscous transfluid flooding her gestation chamber. A growl erupted from his chest, his engine purring against her back as he pressed deeper, making sure every last drop reached its intended target.

Perceptor carefully withdrew, knowing how sore the valve was and how agonizing it was to extract his spike. He proceeded to wipe himself clean before paying attention to the drying lubricant and excess transfluid between his mate’s thighs. He also noticed the energon-based blood...

“I wounded you...”

Moonracer smiled and curled up on the now comfortable desktop. “I’ll be okay,” she murmured, “I just need some (yawn) rest...” The scientist returned the smile as she offlined her optics and drifted into recharge.

“Moonracer...”

“Moonracer? Hello? Earth to Moonracer!”

She onlined her optics to find a Junkion all up in her personal space. Startled, the femme fell out of her chair. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey! Gooooood Morning, Sunshine!” She rubbed her helm, glaring up at Wreck-Gar as he stood proudly. Chromia came to lift her comrade from the floor, laughing at the Junkion’s antics. “Are we...” she inquired, turning to look out the window.

“Yep. Welcome to Earth, baby.”

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This place is a mess...
Moonracer frowned as she trudged through the ruins of what was one of New York’s most prominent buildings. She was told to keep a low profile - this was understandable; she couldn’t begin to imagine what the Decepticons would do if they found her, a carrying female. I forgot to ask how long this gestation lasts, sigh, oh well...

She took a seat upon some of the rubble and began to observe her surroundings. It was dark, humid, and perfect for a nest. Wait. Nest? The femme cringed and stood. She began to pace, mulling over her thoughts of nesting. It was such a new concept, yet when it came down to it, her instinct would guide her through. She soon found herself seated once more.

She was restless.

This had to be a sign, right?

“Damn you, Perceptor...”

She placed a hand over her midsection. It was warm in that one spot. Moonracer smiled, knowing the location to be that of where the gestation chamber rested. The product was growing, pulsing with energy. You’ve gotten a lot stronger, haven’t you? When are you coming out? She began to poke at her stomach. That’s when a sharp pain coursed through her body. “Ow... What-?” The femme hunched over and gripped her chest. What Perceptor failed to mention was how the product exited the gestation chamber, only to crawl its way to the carrier’s spark, where it would then wait as it applied pressure to the spark chamber, causing immense pain.

*C-Chromia...*

*I’m here, baby.*

*I think... I think it’s time... I’m at...*

*Primus, don’t worry! We’ll find you!*

In no time, the females - accompanied by a few Junkions - reached Moonracer’s location. While the males began work on, not one, but five “cradles”, Chromia and the others worked on laying Moonracer on her back. The Junkions apparently thought each femme would have their hatchlings in the same nest, which really wasn’t a bad idea, but it sounded like a big bucket of bitch, bitch, whine, whine.

“Get it out! Get it out!”

“Shh, you have to be quiet, Moonracer.”

“I c-can’t help it! Gah, it’s...”

Firestar slapped a hand over the youth’s mouth, muffling her pain-filled cries. Chromia and Wreck-Gar made to part the chest plate, revealing the spark chamber and a tiny mess of protoform curling around it. The older female was in awe as she stared at the mass of blue enclosing the product. “How do we do this?” she asked. Wreck-Gar nodded; “We git-r-dun!” Surprisingly, the mech reached in with careful hands and scooped up the glowing cocoon, placing it in one of the “cradles” where the pod then attached itself.

“At ease, soldier. And that’s all folks!”

Moonracer winced and pushed Firestar’s hand away. “So... is-is that it?” she inquired, casting each Cybertronian a confused glance. “It won’t be long before we deliver our own.” Flareup approached the hatchling pod and scrutinized the tiny creature within. “It even looks like a nanite! It’s so cute, though... Look at its big, blue eyes! How long do we have to wait until they hatch?”

Wreck-Gar paced. “One month.”

“Well, that’s not too long... Right, Chromia? Chromia?”

The blue femme had knelt to the floor. “Oh, yea... This thing isn’t waiting!”

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Moonracer’s POV

I took my spot next to the pod - my hatchling - and watched as each of my comrades succumbed the painful process of delivering their first products. Chromia had twins, Flareup and Firestar had one each, and Arcee had one. I couldn’t wait until they hatched... I wanted to know what they looked like; I wanted to see if I could figure out who their sires were; I wanted to play with them and watch them grow. They were the future of our race.

I just wished Perceptor was here to experience it with me...