How May I Help You?

DISCLAIMER: Transformers owned by Hasbro, not me.

How Can I Help You?

By Phoenix

AUTHORS NOTES: I read an essay on someone’s web page saying they wanted to see some adult fics where the Transformers have problems with their sex lives (as it were!) just like we do, instead of every encounter happening perfectly like a scripted romance novel. This is my attempt at trying to fulfil that request.

No interfacing (sex) in this first chapter.

*~*

CYBERTRON - Iacon, retail district.


The shop had shiny flashy lights along the top of its facade. It was an information shop, what the humans would refer to as a ‘bookshop’. Digi-books, CD’s, datadiscs, datapads, even some synthetic books in the same format as ‘paper’ books on Earth. All the information types, along with the latest releases were displayed in the front window.

Elita stood and studied the window display. Other shoppers and ‘bots using the busy street flowed around her.

This was merely ONE of Elita’s favourite shops. Elita One’s list of favourite shops consisted of any shop which had items to sell. She was a very proud shopping addict. With the war having died down to a few short-lived fits of fighting which were dispensed with by the efficient Autobot forces, Iacon had quickly developed a range of luxuries to go along with its healthy new economy. New shops were appearing every cycle.

The Autobot Femme Commander spent time browsing. She had Optimus Prime’s much-loved and well-used, ‘no limit’, cred card in her hip compartment, in case her own card had problems and she needed a back-up. She’d started this little solo shopping trip to keep herself from thinking about one aspect of her relationship with Optimus Prime that was troubling her greatly. An aspect which had started small and quickly become a major problem. Oh, she had ways to deal with her crisis. Experienced lovers always had an answer to everything, didn’t they? She faked it. And certainly, Optimus was as enthusiastic as he ever was.

Her wanderings in the large information shop were taking her past the self-care section, and her legs stopped walking even though she hadn’t told them to. A small section along the wall was displaying information on all aspects of personal health. Her optics attached themselves to the title of one large digi-pad; ‘INTERFACING: Problem solving techniques and solutions.’

Her CPU prodded her consciousness, ‘you need to buy that’. She frowned, her optics dimming.

No.

No way!

Did she dare pick it up to LOOK at it? Everyone look over here! Elita One is buying a book on interfacing! And whats more, its about problems! And gee, guess who her boyfriend is? Shock horror! Can’t those two get it together any more?

The shop was crowded. She couldn’t buy it. Her conciousness poked her again, saying she couldn’t buy it in public at all.

She felt like she should be holding up a sign saying the problem wasn’t with Optimus, it was with HER. She couldn’t climax anymore. Not quite true, she could climax, it just took way too much effort and the result was so lacklustre in its intensity she couldn’t see why she’d bothered. Enthusiasm was something she didn’t seem to possess any more. She loved Optimus. She loved his body, she loved what he could do to her body, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong.

She just… had totally lost interest in interfacing. No drive, no interest, no passion, and most often, no climax.

Telling Optimus had been her first priority when she’d initially realised she was experiencing problems with their intimate activities, but she hadn’t been able to open her mouth. She KNEW he would blame himself, and question how good he was at pleasing her. He wasn’t completely confident in bed. When they’d first begun their relationship, he was completely inexperienced despite his outer bravado and relied on her to coach him. He had learned what he could and become skilled with handling her – however, he was never going to be an absolutely mind-blowing lover in bed. He was good, she was good, and they loved each other tremendously. That was all they needed. Or HAD needed.

It wasn’t his fault she was having problems. She didn’t want him worrying and feeling sad for her. She’d find her own way out. And she needed that datapad.

Forcing herself to not touch the beckoning data-pad, she moved on, and her mind rotated a few ideas in her head. She could buy the thing by silent com-link order, and have it packaged up and sent by courier to an anonymous receivers box. Then she could have it without any accompanying fuss and ho-haa. The media were far too interested in the personal lives of famous ‘bots from the war. They would pounce on something like this with gusto.

Elita ordered and paid for the datapad from a silent and encrypted comlink the next cycle.

*~*

One week later..

Optimus’ broad back made the darkness of their personal recharge room even blacker. She held her arms around his waist from where she lay behind him and studied it, tempted to use her night vision to enhance the gorgeous physical view. She was a definite ‘back-and-butt’ femme. The chest was nice too.

They had interfaced just moments ago. She had convinced him, yet again, that she had come just as he had. That she had enjoyed it, as she always did. He didn’t question her and accepted her responses as normal. She was intelligent and experienced enough that she could just about convince him of anything she wanted. It didn’t hurt her that he didn’t suspect she wasn’t enjoying their nightly joinings. And if she was at all prone to depression, she would never have lasted the war, much less as a Commander.

Frustration, with intermingled sadness. That’s what she felt. The frustration was growing stronger the longer the problem lasted. She hadn’t had a chance to read the datapad she’d ordered. It was hidden in her subspace pocket. She had made excuses why Optimus couldn’t use it. He sometimes asked her permission to use it or borrow items from it (she never cleaned it out, it was packed with all kinds of crap), it wouldn’t be good if he used it and came up with her ‘Interfacing Problems’ manual!

Optimus would be visiting Earth shortly, checking on Autobot City and making a sentimental visit to his former home. She would use the time to find a fix for her… difficulty.

*~*

She sat in the lounge room of her and Optimus’ apartment. Feet propped up on the opposite chair, hands smoothly tucked between her closed thighs, just looking at the view. Their building was tall, one of the premier residential blocks with nearly two hundred levels. The view was incredible, as it should be. It was late evening. Iacon was lit up and impossibly stunning to look at. Practically its entire populace was displayed in front of her.

Fliers chased along the mid-air freeway lanes, racers zoomed the length of the ground lanes, other buildings showed pockets of ‘bots conducting business or pleasure over various levels.

Pleasure. Right.

Her hand felt beside her for the datapad she’d ordered a few cycles ago, her fingers closed over it, bringing it to her lap. Optimus was on Earth and she had kept this evening free of engagements so she could contemplate anything the datapad could offer.

She got down to it.

*~*

Chapter 2 coming soon (I hope).