robothell | Feed the Beast

Who: Mayday and Spinister
Where: Not the safety of his home
When: Late pollen season
What: Spinister gonna meet all the weenies
Warnings: NSFW probably

The deer are out of food.

Well, no that's not entirely correct. He has fuel for the nitrodeer. What he doesn't have any more of is the particular type of techo-organic plant that they really, really like to nibble on. Mayday's been avoiding going outside ever since Pipes clued him in to the Pollen Problem, and so his supply of deer-snacks quickly dwindled.

He's been slowly getting crushed under the weight of their combined sad staring. They want snackies, Mayday. Don't you still love them. Not all the scrubbies in the world can fill this void in their sparks. Why must you deprive them so, you monster.

Finally, with a shrill whine, Mayday flees from their oppressive judgement. He will find snackies. He'll just... Keep his vents closed. It shouldn't take long and he's got a low surface area to volume ratio so he doesn't retain heat well anyway! Perfect plan.

If only there were any deer snack plants left near his home. This is what he gets for only picking the closest ones before.

Wandering further and further afield, he clutches his head and whines, "Where aaare theeeey?"

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"Where's what?"

Oh, hey, Mayday, were you planning on walking into someone's crotch today? Because that's about to happen if you turn around right now.

The noise Mayday makes is less a scream and more a single pure note of absolute shock. Which quickly rises into a tone of absolute terror as he spins around to face the stranger's crotch and then looks up.

DECEPTICON. BIG DECEPTICON. ABORT. ABORT.

Flailing with all the grace of a pair of long johns in a hurricane, Mayday backpedals rapidly away from Spinister. Only to find there's not as much ground behind him as he'd hoped, and he promptly rolls down a steep incline where the roadway had partly collapse to the level below.

It's okay though. His tumble is softened by the field of flowers he lands in. An impressive cloud of pollen rises around him.

Spinister blinks slowly at the cloud of pollen that was slowly rising up through the air before looking down to see where the little noodle fellow'd ended up.

"You alright there, buddy?" he calls out. Then, as an afterthought, "Try not to get any of that stuff in your vents!"

The warning comes a little too late. The moment Spinister had startled Mayday, his clamped down cooling systems had roared into full 'flight' mode (Mayday does not have a fight mode), and now they're happily chugging away, pulling clouds of pollen through his systems.

He'll panic about that later. First he has to panic about Spinister.

"Please don't kill me!" he screams up to the Decepticon, not really registering that he'd asked if Mayday was okay. "I'm harmless!"

Wait. Maybe that was the wrong tactic. "I mean, I'm very dangerous, don't come near!"

Perfect save.

"Okay!"

Okay what? Don't kill him? Don't come near?

Well, whatever the case was, Spinister doesn't come nearer at least. He kind of just squats down, arms over his knees and waits expectantly.

"... Want me to get help?" he calls out after a moment.

Mayday flounders around awkwardly in the flowers until he manages to roll into his hands and knees. He stares up at Spinister with a remarkable amount of terror for someone who's just crouching there.

Is 'get help' Decepticon code for 'murder'?! ...probably not. But what if he gets help from more Decepticons to horribly torture and kill him?! Like a group sport.

"N-no," Mayday squeaks. "I'm fine, I'll just, um, nnyh, uh-"

Just collapse onto his face with a groan at the sudden surge of heat the jolts through him straight from his array and up through his spark. Even his tongue tingles a little.

Cue the most pitiable noise imaginable.

Spinister continues to watch, although his birdlike staring seems to come with a bit more of 'I told you so' all of a sudden.

"... So, like," he starts awkwardly, watching Mayday's little squirming pity parade. "How was your day?"

Spinister probably should pity Mayday, he's kind of a disaster. This is just the newest chapter of failing hilariously at life.

Wrapping his arms around his rapidly warming middle, Mayday lets out a hysterical giggle at the absurdity of Spinister's question.

"Ghk, I want- unh, I w-want a new day. Th-th-thiiis one's gone, nhh, gone bad."

He's just going to... Curl here face down in the flowers here and die of shame. Sorry Pipes, sorry deer, this is the end.

"Well, you can't really reset days, can you?"

At least, not without a whole bunch of weird magical technology that's only theoretically possible.

Anyways, Spinister finally gets up from his squat and starts picking his way down to where Mayday was.

"You wanna go hose down somewhere?"

Mayday just whines pitifully in agreement, because you totally can't reset days and that's completely unfair.

Then he looks up at Spinister with sparkling optics, because right now he is filthy and freakishly aroused and that makes that one of the most romantic and sexy things someone has ever said to him.

"Yes," he gasps. Take him now... To a shower.

"Alright, c'mere."

Spinister reaches out and picks up Mayday like he was the world's tiniest, teeniest little petrorabbit, and tucks the little fellow under one arm. He stands up, makes sure Mayday wasn't about to wobble out of his grip and starts making his way up from the flower pit, trailing golden pollen.

The only shower he knows of that was open to kind of public use was the clinic's one. Sorry Mayday, but you were going to the sick people place!

Please ignore the slightly terrified squealing - not entirely unlike the sound a scared petrorabbit makes - there's just something about a huge Decepticon picking him up that makes him nervous.

There's also something about being so casually picked up that makes the knot of heat in his belly throb. It's not exactly being cradled in the arms of his one true love like in the books but- he tries to smother a peep as his pelvic plating slides open, and he really hopes Spinister doesn't notice as lubricant starts spilling down his thighs.

Embarrassing. He presses his thighs together, his legs curling up where they dangle in the air and he covers his face with his hands.

It's okay, Mayday! Everyone else is going through the same thing! Except...

"You don't seem bothered," he whines from behind his hands, finishing his thoughts out loud.

Feed the Beast

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