Matter of Pride

Foreward: This is the second book of my FF 'Matter' trilogy. Basic gist: Barricade, Bumblebee and Frenzy are all hidden femmes. The two Decepticon femmes are controlled by an unknown Decepticon mech referred to as 'One'. Sunstreaker got his aft captured and deleted his memory banks before the cons could find out about the femmes.

... Now his only hope is that Barricade the double agent - can save his tail pipes. But he has no idea that this is the con's plan!

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**Matter of Pride part 5**

‘They are secure?’ the One’s voice filling her meta had an almost accusatory tone to it. She had disobeyed a direct order and it was obvious that he wasn’t thrilled.

‘Affirmative. An ancient Autobot gestalt and four Autobot mechs now guard her,’ Barricade radioed back. Her voice was deep, back to its masculine mech format again – just as her alt mode was also in the original form she had assumed when first arriving on this planet. Barricade was now a ‘full mech’ once more…

There was a moment of silence as the unseen mech contemplated on the report. ‘You disobey orders just for the sake of the twin?’ His unemotional tone seemed to almost have a twinge of emotion in it. Was it disbelief? Wonderment?

‘Affirmative Master.’ The interceptor knew better than to try and lie. The One was all-seeing all-knowing, and it was far better to be honest with him and face his minor wrath – than face the double-edged wrath of not only failure but dishonesty. The second type of wrath generally meant a very agonizing end to a femme. The One would protect femmes who stayed loyal to him – but those that didn’t would be suddenly exposed for what they were… And their former Decepticon mech comrades made short work of gang banging them to death…

Once again there was silence for a while. Barricade drove on, continuing towards the Decepticon base even as she waited for her master’s decision. Sure, she could run and try to hide. ‘Try’ was the key word, for no one remained hidden long from the long arm of One. All she could do was hope that he would come up with a scheme to use her attraction to Sunstreaker for his own use. Actually, that wouldn’t bother her in the least. She’d been secretly controlled by One her entire existence – she knew no other life.

It was almost dark before One radioed his reply. His deep, emotionless tone filled her meta once more. ‘You will be given the almost off-lined mech as a reward for the object you shall present to Megatron. Blind him into being loyal to you. I will ensure that Megatron shall find use in that loyalty.’

‘As you command master, Barricade out.’ The cruiser was pleased that One now had a plan. She knew that he would already have most of the key players manipulated to his will before she even arrived. A deep rumble filled her as she chuckled in a dark tone, for neither Megatron nor their lord really knew who was actually in control of the Decepticons – did they? And they’d be shocked to know how easily manipulated they were. Yes, the femmes followed the true overlord… The true One…

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“You could learn a thing or two from one as loyal as Barricade, Starscream,” Megatron smirked at the wing commander as the interceptor strode in and immediately prostrated himself before them.

The Seeker’s optics narrowed as he spat at the ugly mech. In his hand he held a limp and dying hatchling. A waste of life… In disgust, he threw it, hitting Barricade’s door wing with a solid thud. “He’s nothing but one of your mindless minions. I think.. I plan… I see where our energies should be used!” Turning his optics back to Megatron, he snorted in disgust. “Without the AllSpark we cannot generate new full mechs! Without Energon we cannot grow the hatchlings that the Fallen generates! What is the use of this continued focus on the Autobots – when we shall become extinct in a single generation?!?” he shrieked.

In a blur of motion, Megatron stood, grabbed and threw the Seeker across the chamber. Starscream yelped in surprise as his wings crashed hard against the solid stone. Before he could react to even put up some type of defense, the barrel of a weapon was in his mouth. He glared at the smaller mech, but didn’t dare move a servo. Barricade was notorious for shooting without thinking first. And to say that he and the cruiser didn’t particularly care for each other was an understatement to say the least…

“If having a meta means that one is disloyal to our lord Megatron – than I prefer NOT to have the faulty piece of hardware,” Barricade growled, his optics flaming in simmering rage. “My lord, permission to relieve this traitorous piece of slag of his faulty piece of hardware.” He turned his head slightly so that he could just see his leader.

“No, we shall need him for cannon fodder soon,” Megatron replied. “Perhaps after the battle I shall let you perform that alteration, and then you can enjoy his air frame at your leisure.” His optics locked with Starscream’s for a moment. It was no empty threat. Everyone knew of Barricade’s penchance for necrophilia. In fact, it was so morally disturbing to even the deranged mentality of the Decepticons that no mech would even TOUCH the ugly cruiser. Granted, that was probably why Barricade ended up taking the almost off-lined captives as his temporary ‘lovers’ anyways. They never came out of his quarters still functioning, and the rumors were that he still ‘used’ their chassis’ many cycles after their sparks had fled.

Barricade’s lips curled into a smug smirk, pulling the weapon out of the Seeker’s mouth and holding it against his helm, he brazenly took Starscream’s lips. The action caused the Seeker to want to totally wrench, and even made Megatron a bit queasy himself.

But the leader would never admit to a weakness like that. It was more amusing to think of the torture Starscream was going through having Barricade’s glossa in his mouth. Sitting back down on his throne, an evil smile crossed the tyrant’s face plate. If Starscream didn’t perform well in the coming conflict, perhaps he’d force the Seeker to suck the ghastly cruiser’s transfer? Yes, that was a truly disgustingly wonderful idea! The Fallen was sure to appreciate such a ‘show’ – and none of the lower troops would ever give Starscream any respect after he’d done that act.

Now Megatron’s meta was made up, and Starscream had better fight well! Though, maybe he’d make him perform the act regardless of his battlefield performance. Yes, yes… In front of all the troops… Megatron’s smirk got even wider as his thoughts wandered into the realm of sadism. His optics watching the Seeker’s air frame shudder in total revulsion at the invasive kiss from Barricade…

Finally, ‘Cade released his lips. The cruiser lifted an arm just as they separated, smashing his fist into Starscream’s face plate. “The dead kiss better than you, Seeker!” he taunted. In a flash, he was off of Starscream and once again back on his knees in front of Megatron.

Thoroughly degraded, Starscream wiped the dripping energon from his chin as he stood up. He’d off line that sick ugly freak one cycle. Off line him with a missile up his tail pipes! Without another word, he turned and stumbled out of the chamber.

“Ah, my ever loyal necrophiliac, it is good that you’ve returned!” Megatron purred. He slouched back on his throne, enjoying the feel of it while his own lord was absent. One cycle he would be the only lord of the Decepticons… One cycle…. And it was mechs like Barricade who would help him obtain that desirable position. “I have been informed that you found an item of interest.” He held out his hand expectantly.

“Yes my lord Megatron.” Barricade stood and pulled a small vial out of his subspace. Bowing his head in respect, he set the item in Megatron’s hand.

Bringing it up to his optics, the tyrant turned it and watched the light glint off of it. “Yes, a fragment of the AllSpark. You’ve done well, very well.” They’d be able to create a multitude of drones with this fragment. Drones that would be sent against the Autobots in order to wear them down before the final onslaught…

“My life is to please you, lord Megatron,” the cruiser humbly replied. He was not known for bragging. He just simply did his job and did it above expectations. That’s what made him one of the most trusted of Megatron’s troops – and the most hated by the other troops.

“Hmmmmm, indeed. And you’ve done well.” Megatron tucked the fragment safely into his subspace and turned his optics to the kneeling mech. Normally he’d allow such a loyal Decepticon the honor of pleasuring him, but even he couldn’t tank the thought of allowing the necrophiliac to so much as touch his ped. So instead, he gave the mech a reward that he knew Barricade would more than enjoy. “There was an Autobot captured not long ago. There’s not much left of him, but you may have what there is.”

His normal sadistic smirk crossed his faceplate. Barricade dared to stand up again and meet his lord’s optics. He licked his glossa over his lip components as if already savoring the last whimpers of his next dying lover. Deep inside though, the hidden femme smirked. It wasn’t that she was into slaggin’ the dead – but doing so had served a dual purpose: it had made every single Decepticon so thoroughly sickened that no one would dare touch her – and it had satiated her needs a little. Disguised Decepticon femmes were true masters of creating mech personas that were so disgusting, so horrifying in their perverted quirks – that no mech ever wanted to lay a hand on them. Exactly how they wanted it, to be sure….

To Megatron, he bowed with a ‘Thank you my lord’ and then took his leave…

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It wasn’t hard for Barricade to locate Sunstreaker. The false mech simply followed the moans of passion. And they were great moans at that. Coming around the corner, he steeled himself for the sight he knew was there. Steeled himself to act as he normally would’ve.

“Ughhhhh! Ugghhhh!” Devastator rumbled, his helm thrown back against the stone behind him. He held what looked like some type of robotic doll in his hands, ruthlessly impaling him up and down on his enormous transfer. Working himself into a passionate fury as the gestalt mind prepared to spark bond with the hapless victim.

Sunstreaker’s optics were barely lit. They stayed dull and unfocused. His filthy armor not even recognizable as yellow any more…. He made pitiful keening noises as he was impaled down on a transfer much too large for compatibility… His internal components ripped and dripped energon, which now coated that transfer.

His meta processor was fragmented past conscious thoughts. Between the endless cycles of severe torture – then rape – back to torture, and the fact he’d not been allowed any time for proper defragmentation – he was well past his breaking point. All he knew was pain and agony now. His thoughts swirled in a cyclone of meaningless fragments. There was no future no past for him anymore. There was no existence… No reality other than the incoming sensory load of constant agony.

His very spark was fragmenting now. The constant bombardment of fiery Decepticon sparks flooding into him… Attacking his very soul… Sheared pieces from its core… Now they also swirled in chaos.. Unable to recombine into a whole spark again without rest.. But there was no rest.. No chance for recombination. Throwing his helm back, he screamed in an animalistic wail as the entire gestalt thrust their fire inside him. His very core shattering in their wake….

A cruiser watched dispassionately from the sidelines. Leaning his door wings up against the stone wall, his face plate was completely devoid of anything one could call remotely emotional. Crossing his arms over his hood, he patiently waited for the gestalt to be done with his prize.

“Finally back I see,” a deep voice noted.

Barricade turned his optics towards the speaker. “Affirmative. I see you’ve been called back as well.”

Blackout nodded, his rotors flexing just slightly in annoyance as another pitiful wail filled the area. “And they didn’t even leave me a piece of him,” he snorted with a nod towards the action. That’s what sucked about being one of the forward scouts – there were never any rewards left over when you got back to base. Unless a mech preferred to slag the silent corpses left over; which obviously was why the other scout was standing around waiting…. “Mind letting me have a go before you take him?” he asked. He and Barricade had an unspoken agreement about this; As long as ‘Cade let him have a piece here-and-there – he’d actually help him on the battlefield if necessary.

Barricade turned his optics back to the wailing form of Sunstreaker. To say ‘no’ to Blackout’s request would lead to suspicion. Above all else, he had to maintain his cover, which meant that he’d have to share the mech just once before taking full ownership. So he nodded.

The remnants of the yellow mech slid off Devastator as the combiner went limp in overload, his transfer depressurizing and slipping out of the mech with a sickly sucking sound…. Sunstreaker fell to the ground with a crash, now so weak that his groans weren’t much more than gasps.

Barricade smirked and uncrossed his arms. They were now all done with Sunstreaker, and what was left of him – had been given to him by none other than Megatron himself. Straightening himself, the cruiser turned to collect his reward. Blackout right behind him.

“Still into them dead uns,” a voice snickered from behind them.

With a growl, the cruiser turned to face the annoyance. He knew just how to handle the Combaticon. “Unless you’re giving me an offer, hmmmm?” He pointedly scanned Swindle’s chassis as if he desired him.

He hated it when Barricade did this! Made him feel queasy! Shaking his head frantically, he backed away from the freak. Last time he hadn’t been quick enough, and Barricade had managed to throw him against a wall and almost raped him. “Nah, just made a bet – that’s all.”

Blackout snickered, more than enjoying the Combaticon’s discomfort. Not that he’d ever lower himself to slag the necrophiliac either… Some things were simply below any Decepticon…

Barricade smirked, going over to the weakly groaning mech, he picked him up and rather roughly threw him over his shoulder armor. “I assume you bet that I still enjoy the dead,” he stated darkly.

“Of course. Didn’t think you’d changed much,” the Combaticon grinned. His optics danced over Sunstreaker’s battered chassis, almost wishing he’d get another go with the captive. The Autobot had been fun and full of spite those first few day cycles. It’d been fun to listen to him curse while he screamed – as con after con had shoved their transfers into his tail pipe. Now that he’d been given to the necrophiliac, no one would get another go around. “How much you want – for a few astrominutes with him?” he asked.

The cruiser snorted, narrowing his optics. “I’ll take five creds – but that’s for me slaggin YOU.” He gave the jeep a crude suggestive wink.

Swindle’s face plate heated up at the same time that his fuel tank tried to reflux. “Uh, I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he said. He glanced at Blackout, slightly miffed that the cruiser would ‘share’ with him – but nobody else. Perhaps the rumors were true? That they were in fact – spark mates. Take a sicko to be spark mated to a necro.. Blackout did fit that bill though. And now they were both giving him a rather lewd once-over. Turning, he took off as fast as he could. Last thing he wanted – was TWO sickos raping his tail pipes!

“Combaticons are such idiots,” Barricade muttered under his breath. Securing his grip on the barely conscious mech laying over his shoulder, he marched towards his quarters.

“Agreed,” Blackout nodded with a conniving smirk.

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“Hold him,” Blackout said as Barricade tossed the limp form down on his berth. Reaching down, the black mech casually forced Sun’s legs against his shoulder plates, exposing his ripped port for his attentions.

Barricade kept his face emotionless as he sat down on his berth and tossed his legs over Sunstreaker’s hood. This would be the last time the Autobot would have to suffer having a Decepticon’s spark flaming over his. The last time…. The cruiser swore to himself.

Without even bothering to lubricate his shaft, Blackout plunged it into the groaning mech, pumping away furiously.

Sunstreaker’s dazed optics widened at the renewed invasion. He rolled his helm from side-to-side, a piteous wail filling the room.

“Uggg, ugh, he’s more functional than your normal ugh ugh acquisitions,” Blackout noted as he thrust. His shaft was coated with more energon and hydraulic fluid – than mech lubricant. A telling sign that his victim’s port was heavily damaged from all the use and abuse it had been put through. But he didn’t care; all he needed was some release.

Barricade merely nodded his agreement. If he spoke, he might not be able to keep his true emotions from seeping into his voice.

“Take it! Grrr Take it!” Blackout swiftly reached his climax. His spark energy ripped through the filthy slave mech, causing Sunstreaker’s chassis to arch slightly as the agony flowed over him.

Barricade waited until Blackout rebooted and left, before he resettled the barely conscious mech back on the berth. “That was the last one my pet,” he whispered as he touched Sun’s bruised lips with an almost gentle digit. “Now only I shall have you,” he promised.

The world swirled around him, images coming and going in rapid succession. Sunstreaker groaned as he felt hands on his battered chassis. Invasive hands that dove into every torn servo and linkage…. His processors screamed for him to go into defrag. It was a desperate situation. He was 90% fragmented. No conscious thoughts could be put together right now. But if he deactivated and went into defragmentation, his firewalls would go down. Not that they’d done him much good, but it was instinct to try and keep them up against the invading sparks… The ever invading sparks that were thrust into him..

“You are mine. Begin defragmentation processes,” a deep mech voice ordered.

Bits of his protective armor were now being removed. His raw sensory networks now completely exposed for more torture. Sunstreaker shook his head weakly from side-to-side. “P… lease… do… an..y.. thing… no… no…no,” he stammered. It was so hard to piece words together now. They seemed to dance in front of his meta, forcing him to lunge for each one before they’d come out.

“Begin defragmentation,” the voice ordered.

It was familiar to the Autobot. He’d heard it many times on the battlefield. Sunstreaker tried to sort through the fragments of memory files. Tried to ID the voice…. A blurry image came to his meta. Like a digital TV who’s signal is being blocked and broken by heavy rain… The image of…. Of… Bar? Was it Bar? But that didn’t seem right… He couldn’t piece the entire name together from all the fragments swirling around… “B – Bar?” he stammered. His optics couldn’t even focus now, all he could see was a blurry outline. The programs to process the data were too fragmented…

“Affirmative, begin defragmentation.”

He felt the disembodied voice flow over him like a commanding wave. Then digits inside him… The mech manually forcing him into meta stasis lock… Forcing him into defragmentation… “N…noooooooooo” his voice drifted off as his optics darkened.

Barricade looked down at the battered mech. Sliding his digits down, he forced the limp leg units apart and slid his digits deep inside. He was torn badly. But if given enough time, the rips coated in enough silicon repair gel – internal repair nets could fix the problem.

Pulling his digits out, he turned his attention onto the retracted transfer unit. Teasing the shaft out, a frown crossed his face plate as he saw the evidence of electrical diode torture. Didn’t surprise him though, Decepticons loved to loop wires around limbs and transfers and watch the mech ‘dance’ in agony when they turned on the current.

With little outward emotion, the cruiser picked up the pile of filthy armor. Strolling over to the automatic washing unit, he dumped the load in and turned it on. It would easily take three full cycles to get all the offal off of it. Granted, it would take longer than that for the mech’s processors to fully defragment as well.

He turned back to the naked mech lying on the berth. There were several methods he could use to fill the damaged port with the silicon gel. But he must remember to stay within character. There was no telling what kind of monitoring devices might be installed in his quarters. He could not say or do anything that might blow his cover.

Striding up to the still form, he ran his digits gently along the bare wires. “You are mine now Sunstreaker. No one else shall have you,” he re-iterated. Just as much to hear it himself – as for those whom might be watching. He had built a reputation of being particularly possessive of his ‘lovers’. Granted, this was the first ‘lover’ who would survive the ordeal. The others, Barricade had actually shown mercy and put them out of their misery as they begged him to. That’s why he’d always played with the dead.

Barricade turned Sunstreaker onto his side, bending his legs so that his port was exposed. Fluids still seeped from him, dripping slowly down to the floor, creating a macabre painting of pain. The cruiser seemed unconcerned though. Reaching up, he grabbed a tube of what looked like lube. Activating his transfer, he liberally coated its length. Climbing onto the berth next to Sunstreaker, he curled his chassis around him, slowly pressing deep inside him.

His other hand still coated with the silica repair gel, Barricade once again teased out the mech’s transfer. He began to stroke its length in time with his slow deliberate thrusts inside the damaged port. What no watching mech could see or know was that his transfer was a false one. Created from a medical probe, and as the cruiser gently thrust, he activated its healing energy field – all the while slowly spreading the silica gel inside the port. The probe helped to activate the mech’s internal repair systems, the gel supplying the raw materials needed to patch the tears. So as ‘Cade apparently ‘slagged’ his unconscious new pet – he was in fact helping him to heal.

“Geese, that mech’s a disgusting little bastard,” Thundercracker muttered as he shut off the image on the screen. He couldn’t handle watching the sicko slag the Autobot toy to death.

“Yeah, didn’t he slag the last one for like two full shifts straight?” Dirge snickered. He raised an optic ridge as he looked at his wingmate.

“After he already off lined the freager. Sicko mech.” The blue Seeker felt like he was going to spew some of his energon at the memory of watching THAT on the monitors.

“Can’t understand a rust bucket who doesn’t want to hear them scream. No fun slaggin’ a manikin,” Dirge leaned back and put his arms behind his helm. “Well, at least we had fun being the first to break in the toy.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll catch a couple more soon.” Thundercracker’s face plate lit up as he thought about future fun. All thoughts of the yellow mech left his meta…

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The world began to brighten a bit. Sunstreaker wiggled his digits a little as his optics brightened. Much of the haze was now gone from them. Running an automatic scan, he noted that he was now only 60% fragmented. Well, at least that was better than 90%.

His sensory grids came back on line. That’s when he felt the warm chassis snuggled up against the naked circuits along his back… Felt the penetration of a hard shaft which slowly moved in and out of him. But the agony was no more. A numbness filled his port. He still felt the slight soreness of raw rips within him. But an energy field was soothing him from the inside. The mech behind him stopped his movements for a moment, just the tip of his transfer within Sunstreaker’s port. The sound of lubricant being spread, then the shaft slid back inside him. The numbing warmth spread through his port as the silicon gel coated him thickly again, causing Sunstreaker to moan in a mixture of relief and unexpected pleasure.

“Mmmm, you reactivate, this is good,” a deep voice noted.

Sunstreaker felt digits curl a little more tightly around his extended transfer then. He hadn’t even realized it had been out! Looking down, he saw a familiar arm over his side.. A familiar hand slid along his length in slow strokes, coating it yet more thickly with the same repair gel that was being used as lubricant in his port. Delving into his memory banks, Sunstreaker ID’d the mech from the battlefield. “Barricade,” he whispered. He didn’t want to turn and look at the ugly mech. Didn’t want to admit that he could feel pleasure under his hands. But why was the mech doing this?!? Why wasn’t he linking inside him and thrusting his fiery spark mercilessly into his?!?

“Affirmative,” Barricade replied in an emotionless tone. “Do you recall the last time we met?”

Was this a trick question? Was the Decepticon going to gloat about him now being a slave? Sunstreaker gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, trying to deny the warm waves going through his networks from Barricade’s actions. “Sector 5.76-7.8, Sideswipe and I intercepted you during one of your spy missions.” He didn’t want to say that he’d so thoroughly whooped the cruiser that he’d figured he was off lined. Somehow he just knew that this wasn’t a good time to brag about past victories. Being a slave, armorless, naked and still very weak and damaged – might have something to do with that.

He fought the urge for a moment, but his natural inclination to gloat took over. He may be beaten and broken – but he was still proud damnit! “Yeah, we whooped you so bad – I’m surprised you’re still around to slag me while I’m down and out,” he weakly snickered. He tried to wiggle away from the cruiser, but he was just too damaged.

Barricade arched an optic ridge at his gloating. After all that had been done to him – he still had spirit? He was actually tougher than he had first thought. It made him yet that much more attractive. “It’s who wins in the end that matters, not a single battle – do you not agree?” he taunted. He nipped that tasty neck, enjoying Sun’s gasp.

“We haven’t lost the war… Mmmm… You’ll be my captive… Mmmm.. Just wait and see.” Sunstreaker stubbornly refused to give in completely to the warm numbing sensation. Stubbornly refused to admit that he was fully defeated…

Barricade curled his other hand under the naked mech, his digits now stroking the surface of his exposed spark chamber. Sunstreaker tried to block him, but his efforts were in vain. He arched against the cruiser, almost overcome by the triage of pleasure sensations washing over his abused nets.

“You’ve always wanted me bent over in front of you. Hmm Sun?” Barricade’s digits became firmer against the chamber. “I’ve known this, Seen the lust in your optics when we locked in combat.”

“Mmmmm f-frag you!” Sunstreaker’s words came out as a strained whisper. He arched his back linkages, encouraging the cruiser to sink deeper within him. His aversion to feeling pleasure from a Decepticon – rapidly being overwhelmed by the intensity of the triage on his nets…

Barricade increased his speed, grinning wickedly as the damaged mech cried out and went limp. He didn’t stop though. His pace slowed back to its steady rhythm as he waited for the quick reboot.

Sunstreaker sighed as he came back online. His chassis very relaxed now. His grid lines tingling all over in the afterglow… But the cruiser was still pumping away.. His passion seemingly insatiable.. “What do you want from me?” he whispered. Barricade had to want something right? Why else would he be slaggin’ him using repair gel for lubricant, and doing it so gentle that Sun was actually overloading from it?

“You,” Barricade simply stated.

Trembling terribly now, Sunstreaker tried to control his over-sensitized networks. Most mechs needed a break between rebooting and slaggin’ again for this very reason. They had to reset.

The cruiser seemed to take notice of his problem though. Pulling out, he grabbed Sun’s leg and forced it back over his own leg. Then he positioned his slick transfer to lie against Sunstreaker’s circuits, its length rubbing along the underside of Sun’s transfer. “Stroke us for a moment,” he ordered.

Knowing he had little choice in the matter, Sun reached his hands down between his legs and began to stroke both transfers. His sensory grids began to settle down as Barricade gave him some blessed recovery time. He yelped a bit when the cruiser decided he’d had enough rest, and thrust back inside him. “Damn it, I need more time!” he pleaded.

Keeping his thrusts barely going, Barricade forced him to wrap his digits around his own transfer and begin to stroke in time again. “You are mine to do with as I please. I did not have to give you a break at all.” He nipped his audio panel. “Say ‘yes master’,” he ordered. This was what he’d be expected to do. So anyone watching would be smirking evilly… Barricade could almost picture them…

“Frag you,” Sunstreaker moaned.

Barricade forced the mech to squeeze his own transfer too tightly. He hated to do this, but it would look like a typical ‘con’ thing to do – to whoever might be watching the affair. “What do you say?” he prodded.

Wincing at the reminder of how damaged his transfer was, Sun desperately tried to jerk his hand away from the cruiser’s control. All he ended up doing was locking himself in a vice – with Barricade’s digits forcing his to bear down on himself without mercy. “I…. I’ll … never…. Akkkkkk!”

“Say it,” he ordered.

For a few more moments, Sunstreaker held up the defiance, but he was already so beaten down from the time he’d spent with the other Decepticons – it didn’t take much longer.. “Yes…. Yes master.” His shoulders drooped as he gave in.

The pain was immediately gone. Barricade stopped for a moment to add some more gel to both hand and transfer, and then continued the molesting of his pet.

“What happened when you arrived here on this planet?” he asked. His strokes and thrusts back in slow steady rhythm.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, trying to concentrate and find those memory files. He remembered hitting the ground hard, the pod opening, finding an alt mode to scan – but nothing else! Nothing! “I…. I guess I was captured right when I scanned alt mode,” he stammered. He couldn’t believe that he had no memories of the actual battle. Surely he’d fought hard?!?

“Affirmative.” Barricade was pleased, very pleased. This mech kept his oaths. He didn’t even know that he was in fact – a femme. “You are enjoying my attentions,” he taunted, giving the naked mech a nibble on his exposed neck region.

“No I’m not!” Sunstreaker weakly growled. He tried to wiggle out of the cruiser’s grip, but couldn’t. The small amount of energy it took to struggle caused him to gasp in exhaustion as he collapsed again. The effort barely even changed the slow steady strokes and thrusts of Cade.

The cruiser nibbled on his audio panel again, causing waves of pleasure to crash over the captive. “You do not have to admit what you feel. Your response is enough.”

The weak mech trembled as his audio panel was targeted with surprisingly gentle nips. What was Barricade’s game?!? He’d already brought him to overload once. Already proven he was in total control! “W … Why don’t you just do it!” he tried to snarl in between moans.

“Do what?” Barricade flicked the tip of the mech’s transfer just so, causing Sun to moan and shudder against him.

“Force your spark on me….mmmmm… Like everyone else has… mmmmm,” Sunstreaker couldn’t help it, sliding his hand down; he curled his digits weakly around Barricade’s again. Shivers went through him as he followed those wonderful strokes.

“I do not share my spark,” Barricade growled in his audio. He nibbled that wonderful neck some more. He had spoken the truth. He did not ‘share’ his spark with mechs, for the simple fact that ‘his’ transfer was in fact fake – thus, he couldn’t thrust his spark through it even if he wanted to.

His core lightened. The fear of spark invasion lessening a bit…. Sunstreaker relaxed a bit more against the cruiser, his spark beginning to pulse a little more evenly now that it was being given the time to recombine itself and heal. Barricade’s strokes sped up a bit, and for the second time, Sunstreaker felt true pleasure flow over him. He gasped as shut down sequences began. His chassis shuddering against the strong cruiser’s.

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“Have it cleaned up before I return,” Barricade ordered. He tossed the mech a cloth and nodded at the puddle of fluids staining the floor.

Sunstreaker cringed in pain as he tried to sit up. “I’m too weak,” he argued as he collapsed back down.

Striding up to him, Barricade smacked him hard across his face plate. “You shall refer to me as ‘master’ – and I accept no excuses!” he snarled.

As the door slammed shut and locked, Sunstreaker looked down at the rag in his hand. “Eat slag – master!” he muttered weakly. With a disgusted sigh, he rolled himself off of the berth, landing onto the ground with a thud. Crawling weakly on his hands and knees, he slowly got the mess cleaned up.

Then he curled up on the hard floor, unable to get back on the berth. “Sideswipe,” he whispered as tears filled his optics, “I’ll get back to you somehow… Somehow….” For a little while he allowed himself to feel sorry for himself – but then shook it off. He’d been a gladiator.. He was strong… He was tough… He’d find a way to survive! Find a way outta this mess!

Before to long, he’d drifted off into a restless defrag cycle. His meta being overwhelmed by horrifying memory echoes…

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“Let me go!” he screamed as Devastator picked him up. Struggling weakly, he fought as best he could under the conditions. But a hard hit across his face plate ended his struggles. The real pain encroaching into the memory echo, forcing him out of defrag. He blinked in confusion a few times, finding himself cradled in the cruiser’s arms.

Barricade glared at him, as he unceremoniously dropped him back on the berth. “Memory echoes,” he snorted in contempt, “You Autobots show such weakness.”

Sunstreaker grimaced as he rolled onto his side and watched the mech check on the progress of his armor cleaning. He couldn’t help it that he had residual memory glitches from the abuse he’d suffered. Any normal mech would suffer as well. It was pointless to argue with the cold interceptor. Barricade wouldn’t care anyways. So Sun figured he should change the subject. “Is my armor finally clean?” he asked. Then as an afterthought he added “master.”

The cruiser glanced back at him, just as he punched in the codes for another cycle. “negative.”

“Frag it,” Sun muttered and lay his helm on top of his crossed arms. He didn’t want to think of how many layers of oil, hydraulic fluid, energon and stone dust was now on his once-beautiful armor. Didn’t want to remember all the acts of degradation he’d been put through to create those layers upon layers.

Barricade glared at him.

“Wasn’t talking about you – master,” Sunstreaker quickly explained. He didn’t really feel like getting whacked across the face plate again.

“Turn over onto your back,” the cruiser ordered as he came over to the berth.

The Autobot considered it, not sure if he really wanted to. “Aren’t you ever satisfied,” he snorted, “uh master,” he added with a smirk as he went ahead and rolled over.

“Negative,” Barricade replied coldly. He climbed up onto the berth, forcing Sun’s legs apart with his own. He tried to bend down and kiss his pet, but Sun stubbornly turned his face away. “Kiss me,” the cruiser snarled.

“Go kiss yourself – master,” Sun spat. Sure, he was going to get slagged. But he could make sure that Barricade knew darned well that he didn’t want too!

Grabbing his helm, Barricade forced him to turn and face him again. “The sooner you face the fact that I’m your master – the easier your life shall be.” His tone was dark, commanding….

Sunstreaker shot him a smug smile. “The sooner you realize that I’ll NEVER do this willingly – the easier your life will be… master.”

The cruiser sighed in exacerbation; he hadn’t expected the mech’s spirit to be totally unfazed by the torture. He was a very rare one indeed! So, it was time to try another tact – still within Decepticon parameters of course. Barricade gently stroked his helm, allowing his optics to soften. “You obey me willingly – or I give you back to the others,” he threatened.

The mech studied him with critical optics. He really doubted that Barricade was bluffing. His smug smile shifted to an unhappy frown. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re as romantic as a rusted screw? Master,” he replied.

Barricade’s lips curled up into a grin, exposing his jagged dental plates in a horrific rendition of a true smile, which looked more like a wolf bearing down on his kill…. “Romance is for weakling Autobots,” he snorted.

Sunstreaker ran his digit tips over the mech’s hood. Since he was trapped into doing this, might as well make the best of it. “It’s a way to ensure that your partner stays willing – master.” He gave the mech a smile that would melt most sparks.

Didn’t melt Barricade’s though – at least not outwardly… The hidden femme sensed that Sun was testing his limits.. Looking for any possible weakness that he could exploit.. Perhaps he would allow him to ‘find’ one? Yes, make Sunstreaker think he had an opening. “I’ve never had a ‘willing’ mech,” he whispered in a low tone, his lips so close to Sun’s audio panels that they brushed the surface lightly. “Most run from me,” his optics softened a bit, as if he was actually showing a slight bit of sadness – perhaps even loneliness? Before rapidly hardening back to their normal state of harshness. “Which is how I prefer!” his whisper changed to a growl. Taking Sunstreaker’s lips in a harsh kiss, he ground his chassis hard into him.

Tensing at the onslaught, Sunstreaker’s thoughts flew as he was ravaged. It wasn’t as bad as being with any of the other cons. Barricade was demanding – but his attentions were not painful. He even stopped for a moment to coat his shaft in a thick layer of silicon repair gel prior to thrusting mercilessly inside him.

Sun let his reactions flow with the action. His meta watching for any more indications from the mech. Those simple words of never having a willing partners, of never sharing his spark – It was obvious to Sun that the cruiser was hurting deeply inside. He’d probably allowed him to live to try and fill that void for a little while.

As the astrohours passed, the cruiser enjoying his port with long steady strokes… Sunstreaker thought hard – in between the wonderful overloads. Could he gain Barricade’s complete trust? Could he show the Decepticon what life really could be? And in doing so – regain his freedom?

With a grin, Barricade forced Sunstreaker’s arms up over his helm. He secured them with handcuffs to rings sunk into the wall. “You look quite at home like this,” he purred as he sat up on bent legs, grabbing Sun’s hip servos, lifting him up so that he could thrust more deeply into him.

The yellow mech smiled up at his captor, weakly arching against him. “What can I, mmmmm, say? I’m so gorgeous that, mmmmmm, everyone wants to slag me.” His optics rolled back into his head as another overload flowed over his networks.

Barricade stopped as he went limp. Cocking his head, he chuckled deeply as he ran his hands over the naked mech. “You’re a piece of work Sunstreaker. Completely unbroken after all that has happened.” He pulled out of the mech, his false transfer retracting back inside him. Shifting Sun’s frame, he lay down and curled around him, setting his helm on one of his raised up arms so that their face plates were so close they almost touched. The more he ‘had’ Sunstreaker, the more he was amazed at the mech’s spirit, and the more he was falling in love.

The meta game he was playing with him… Yes, both would win in the end. Sunstreaker would gain his freedom and a new comrade to fight at his side – and Barricade would feel the growth of life within her spark. A smile crossed the fake male’s face plate as he softly stroked the surface of Sun’s spark chamber. Sunstreaker seemed much more accepting of an ugly mech taking him – than an ugly femme. It would be interesting to see how he would react when he finally got to thrust his transfer into ‘Cade’s tail pipes – only to realize that he was sinking inside a femme’s receiver.

Not long after Barricade’s optics went dark in defrag, Sun’s brightened in reboot. He wiggled his digits a bit, realizing quickly that he’d been left handcuffed. Shifting a bit under the weight pressing down against him, he glanced down at the mech curled around him. An unusual peaceful expression was on the harsh interceptor’s face plate. Sunstreaker studied him for a while. Yeah, he sure was ugly, but considering what Decepticons did to good looking mechs – he could kind’ve understand why the mech might prefer to look so bad.

He shifted his view a bit. Yeah, Ratchet might be able to do something about the guy’s face plate. He just had to find a way to convince the mech to switch sides. And as lonely and desperate as he now knew Barricade was – he was sure he could make him fall for him. A mech would do anything for the one he loved – right?

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Note: Ok, mind went straight to the gutter. But if you guys like the demented mind/smut game saga this has turned into – leave a review..