[fic][Transformers '07 movie] The Boy in the Box
Warning: This is an NC-17 story. Do not click if you are not of legal age to read it. It contains xenosexuality (mech/human), sticky (mechs with human-analogous naughty bits), slash (male character/male character), altered states of consciousness, and sex that's somewhere between dub-con and non-con. It is a story in which the bad guys won. If any of these push the wrong buttons for you, DO NOT CLICK.
Author's Note: Okay, I usually put my notes at the end of stories, but given the content I feel that this time it should be at the top. This story features xeno (mech/human sex), sticky (mechs with human-analogous naughty bits), slash (male character/male character), altered states of consciousness, and sex that is somewhere between dub-con and non-con. This is a story where the bad guys won. If any of those are squick buttons for you, stop now.
This story is based in femme4jack and aniay's "Points of View" universe, which is inspired by the movie The Matrix. Basically, Cybertronians hooked organics up into Matrix-like generators, until Wheeljack made the discoveries that (1) organics were sentient, (2) Cybertron was being fueled by their pain, and (3) a willing relationship between organic and mech based on pleasure could create a lot more power than the unwilling/pain one. This led to a schism in Cybertronian society, which led to the war. To read more works in this 'verse, go to the tf_matrix comm. This story was further inspired by the first part of femme4jack's story Points of View, which featured Bumblebee referring to Sam as a pet. That hit my brain like a hammer striking a temple bell: GONNNNNNNNGG~! Because it reminded me of Megatron's offer to Sam in the first film: "Give me the Allspark, and you may live to be my pet." And, so, yeah. That's where this came from. femme4jack graciously beta'd it for me.
The Boy in the Box
by K. Stonham
released 16th June 2010
There was a box. It was with Megatron wherever he went; to the front lines of battle to crush those who opposed him; to the worlds that were subjugated beneath Decepticon rule; to suns and stars that were extinguished to fuel Cybertron, the world which he controlled with a steel fist.
The box was approximately eight feet by three feet by three feet. It was silver in color, polished to a mirror finish. It was seemingly seamless. And, if a mech was quiet and listened very, very carefully, it hummed just ever so slightly.
The box was a containment unit, capable of extending the life of the organic sentient within it no matter what the external conditions were. Given that the organic was of a particularly frail species, it would have died a hundred thousand times over during Megatron's travels if not for the box's protection.
Once, there had been a small blue planet orbiting a small yellow star. And that planet had held both Megatron and Cybertron's life-giving Allspark Cube prisoner for thousands of its years. When he had finally freed himself from his prison, its pathetic denizens had tried to keep his rightful possession from him. One, a youngling, had amused him with its futile run, the sacred object tucked under its arm.
"Give me the Allspark," he had offered to it, "and you may live to be my pet."
Horrified, the boy hadn't been able to respond.
But neither had he been able to flee.
Megatron had plucked the Cube from the pathetic fleshling, killed his worthless peace-preaching brother, and used the Cube to create a new army from the world's rudimentary technology--technology which had been derived from him and which thus obeyed his every whim.
But he was not a mech without honor; he kept his word.
So when the rest of the planet's creatures were harvested to fuel the generators, he had kept the youth aside. He had had Scalpel install one of those personal ports over the shrieking creature's spine. He hadn't even waited for it to heal before jacking in and taking the boy's mind and body, using him ruthlessly to generate the pleasure that powered a spark so much more effectively than a simple organic battery ever could.
The Autobots, with their pathetic fleshling-loving ways, were disgusting deviants to be weeded out of the pool of Cybertronian strength. Their coddling of and catering to and loving weaker species were aberrations.
Nonetheless, Megatron was no fool, and power was power....
And with his own socket, he had it.
*
Sam existed weightless, dreamless, timeless, plugged into his box via the socket at the base of his neck. The box monitored his needs: air, hygiene, light, nutrients, waste disposal. Constant low-grade electrical stimuli kept his muscle tone from wasting away to nothing. Once in a while he rubbed his fingers together. He was kept neat and clean for Megatron, but he'd long since lost all calluses on his body. He breathed and slept and dreamed and his hair and nails grew. The nails the box trimmed as otherwise he might try to hurt himself with them. The hair it didn't bother with.
Sometimes when Megatron took him out of the box the tyrant decided that it had grown too long, and cut it with a single flick of a razor-sharp claw. The sound of long hair falling in whispers to the ground had gotten tangled up with the other things that happened during those times. Just remembering the sound made Sam hard.
He sometimes tried to remember real sunlight, the way it fell on his skin, and found he couldn't. It had been too long. The light inside the box was missing something, because he never burned in it, and he never tanned. The last time he'd seen himself, in the mirror finish exterior of the box, his skin had been almost translucent. He hadn't recognized the human staring back at him.
He was startled out of his dream-trance by a sudden hiss.
Like the sound of hair falling, it stirred up desire, his cock slowly rising to attention as the box equalized with the outside, air pressure shifting just ever so slightly, swirling around his naked body....
Then the box was open and he was standing upright in a vast dark chamber, lit only by hints of red light catching on sharp metal edges here and there.
Sharp metal hands plucked him up from out of the box, holding him like he was a doll. A finger touched against the metal socket at the nape of his neck, brushing the hair away. It wasn't too long yet; had it only been a few months since he was last taken out? Just the sensation of the hair against the socket port was pleasurable; he shivered and pressed his aching cock against his master's hand, whimpering as he rubbed himself against a smooth metal plane. The air was colder outside of the box, hardening his nipples. But Sam felt like he was burning up as Megatron carried him over to a throne that reshaped itself around the tyrant even as he sat.
He was arranged so that he was draped over the semi-reclined Decepticon's chest, a thin sheet of metal away from the raging spark that he could feel pulsing beneath him. It wanted him. Oh god it wanted him.
"Pet," Megatron purred, never failing to remind Sam of his status, even as a metallic black connector cable slid up from between the warlord's legs, like a prehensile cock that was so wrong even as Sam whimpered and arched toward it, begging for the touch.
With a snick and a pulse of fiery pain it slid home and Sam gasped, hips bucking against Megatron's chest plates as Sam writhed, needing the contact, needing the touch of even this cruel metal to remind him that he was alive and could feel--
The first orgasm ripped through him and he would have cried aloud if he'd still had the capability. Instead his pleasure was voiceless. Megatron arched instead, a quiet "Ah--" escaping him as Sam's pleasure powered him, making his spark stronger.
The second orgasm hit as Megatron accessed Sam's neural network, convincing his body that he had a vibrator up his ass, purring against that perfect pleasure spot, that a tight-hot-wet sheath surrounded his cock, that a lithe, sweaty, soft body writhed against his--
Sam had long given up pretending that the body was Mikaela's, that she looked at him saying she loved him, that the surface beneath him was the hood of a golden yellow Camaro with black stripes--
It had only made it worse, when the fantasy ended.
Metal fingers with sharp edges caressed him now, cold chills running down his body, causing him to stiffen again. "Feeling well, my pet?" Megatron purred and no, that voice wasn't doing it for Sam, it absolutely wasn't...!
Oh god.
He writhed as he was tortured and teased to a third release, his breath coming hard and fast, heart pounding in his chest. He felt wrung out and exhausted, dripping with sweat and shaking like he'd run a marathon. Cum was smeared all over him and had marred Megatron's perfect finish.
"One more, pet," Megatron said, and picked him up, lowering him onto the gleaming silver spike that had revealed itself just above the connector cable. Megatron even thoughtfully swiped some of the sweat and cum from his chest and Sam's and rubbed it on his spike's surface to supplement its own clear slick lubricant.
It was too thick, as always, and only went in slowly, burningly. Sam always felt like he was being torn in two. And oh god it made him hard as a rock, slowly fucking himself up and down on that proud spike, barely breathing as he felt Megatron inside him, inside his body, inside his thoughts, inside his very self.
"Yesss, pet," Megatron hissed, head falling back and burning optics no longer locked on Sam. Metal fingers came down and barely touched Sam's cock before he was coming violently, harder than ever, shaking with perfect pleasure, unable to think, to move, to anything.
*
Spark finally sated, flaring lazily with contentment, Megatron waited a few moments before pulling--carefully; the fleshling was fragile--the well-trained human off his spike. Silvery transfluid gleamed on the organic's inner thighs where the nanite solution had overflowed him.
Megatron always re-marked his pet, never letting the human forget who owned him.
Still, he was gentle as he set the unconscious fleshling back in its box, resealed the container, and went to let the mechanical drones clean its disgusting fluids off of him.
He felt so well and strong; he would need to make sure to use his pet again sooner in the future.
*
Aching, and dreaming as much as he was able to, Sam's thoughts drifted to other times, to brighter colors, to hands that touched him for purposes other than their own wants.
Sometimes he hoped for Starscream to succeed in one of the attempts Sam had gleaned from Megatron's mind. Hoped Starscream would destroy Sam and his box and thus one of Megatron's sources of power. Hoped that someday it might just end, and then felt guilty for that thought.
But never did Sam ever think that Megatron's growing dependency on his socket would bring the tyrant down. Because pleasure is soft, and love is weak....
But the compassion of organics is infectious.
Author's Note: Okay, I usually put my notes at the end of stories, but given the content I feel that this time it should be at the top. This story features xeno (mech/human sex), sticky (mechs with human-analogous naughty bits), slash (male character/male character), altered states of consciousness, and sex that is somewhere between dub-con and non-con. This is a story where the bad guys won. If any of those are squick buttons for you, stop now.
This story is based in femme4jack and aniay's "Points of View" universe, which is inspired by the movie The Matrix. Basically, Cybertronians hooked organics up into Matrix-like generators, until Wheeljack made the discoveries that (1) organics were sentient, (2) Cybertron was being fueled by their pain, and (3) a willing relationship between organic and mech based on pleasure could create a lot more power than the unwilling/pain one. This led to a schism in Cybertronian society, which led to the war. To read more works in this 'verse, go to the tf_matrix comm. This story was further inspired by the first part of femme4jack's story Points of View, which featured Bumblebee referring to Sam as a pet. That hit my brain like a hammer striking a temple bell: GONNNNNNNNGG~! Because it reminded me of Megatron's offer to Sam in the first film: "Give me the Allspark, and you may live to be my pet." And, so, yeah. That's where this came from. femme4jack graciously beta'd it for me.
The Boy in the Box
by K. Stonham
released 16th June 2010
There was a box. It was with Megatron wherever he went; to the front lines of battle to crush those who opposed him; to the worlds that were subjugated beneath Decepticon rule; to suns and stars that were extinguished to fuel Cybertron, the world which he controlled with a steel fist.
The box was approximately eight feet by three feet by three feet. It was silver in color, polished to a mirror finish. It was seemingly seamless. And, if a mech was quiet and listened very, very carefully, it hummed just ever so slightly.
The box was a containment unit, capable of extending the life of the organic sentient within it no matter what the external conditions were. Given that the organic was of a particularly frail species, it would have died a hundred thousand times over during Megatron's travels if not for the box's protection.
Once, there had been a small blue planet orbiting a small yellow star. And that planet had held both Megatron and Cybertron's life-giving Allspark Cube prisoner for thousands of its years. When he had finally freed himself from his prison, its pathetic denizens had tried to keep his rightful possession from him. One, a youngling, had amused him with its futile run, the sacred object tucked under its arm.
"Give me the Allspark," he had offered to it, "and you may live to be my pet."
Horrified, the boy hadn't been able to respond.
But neither had he been able to flee.
Megatron had plucked the Cube from the pathetic fleshling, killed his worthless peace-preaching brother, and used the Cube to create a new army from the world's rudimentary technology--technology which had been derived from him and which thus obeyed his every whim.
But he was not a mech without honor; he kept his word.
So when the rest of the planet's creatures were harvested to fuel the generators, he had kept the youth aside. He had had Scalpel install one of those personal ports over the shrieking creature's spine. He hadn't even waited for it to heal before jacking in and taking the boy's mind and body, using him ruthlessly to generate the pleasure that powered a spark so much more effectively than a simple organic battery ever could.
The Autobots, with their pathetic fleshling-loving ways, were disgusting deviants to be weeded out of the pool of Cybertronian strength. Their coddling of and catering to and loving weaker species were aberrations.
Nonetheless, Megatron was no fool, and power was power....
And with his own socket, he had it.
*
Sam existed weightless, dreamless, timeless, plugged into his box via the socket at the base of his neck. The box monitored his needs: air, hygiene, light, nutrients, waste disposal. Constant low-grade electrical stimuli kept his muscle tone from wasting away to nothing. Once in a while he rubbed his fingers together. He was kept neat and clean for Megatron, but he'd long since lost all calluses on his body. He breathed and slept and dreamed and his hair and nails grew. The nails the box trimmed as otherwise he might try to hurt himself with them. The hair it didn't bother with.
Sometimes when Megatron took him out of the box the tyrant decided that it had grown too long, and cut it with a single flick of a razor-sharp claw. The sound of long hair falling in whispers to the ground had gotten tangled up with the other things that happened during those times. Just remembering the sound made Sam hard.
He sometimes tried to remember real sunlight, the way it fell on his skin, and found he couldn't. It had been too long. The light inside the box was missing something, because he never burned in it, and he never tanned. The last time he'd seen himself, in the mirror finish exterior of the box, his skin had been almost translucent. He hadn't recognized the human staring back at him.
He was startled out of his dream-trance by a sudden hiss.
Like the sound of hair falling, it stirred up desire, his cock slowly rising to attention as the box equalized with the outside, air pressure shifting just ever so slightly, swirling around his naked body....
Then the box was open and he was standing upright in a vast dark chamber, lit only by hints of red light catching on sharp metal edges here and there.
Sharp metal hands plucked him up from out of the box, holding him like he was a doll. A finger touched against the metal socket at the nape of his neck, brushing the hair away. It wasn't too long yet; had it only been a few months since he was last taken out? Just the sensation of the hair against the socket port was pleasurable; he shivered and pressed his aching cock against his master's hand, whimpering as he rubbed himself against a smooth metal plane. The air was colder outside of the box, hardening his nipples. But Sam felt like he was burning up as Megatron carried him over to a throne that reshaped itself around the tyrant even as he sat.
He was arranged so that he was draped over the semi-reclined Decepticon's chest, a thin sheet of metal away from the raging spark that he could feel pulsing beneath him. It wanted him. Oh god it wanted him.
"Pet," Megatron purred, never failing to remind Sam of his status, even as a metallic black connector cable slid up from between the warlord's legs, like a prehensile cock that was so wrong even as Sam whimpered and arched toward it, begging for the touch.
With a snick and a pulse of fiery pain it slid home and Sam gasped, hips bucking against Megatron's chest plates as Sam writhed, needing the contact, needing the touch of even this cruel metal to remind him that he was alive and could feel--
The first orgasm ripped through him and he would have cried aloud if he'd still had the capability. Instead his pleasure was voiceless. Megatron arched instead, a quiet "Ah--" escaping him as Sam's pleasure powered him, making his spark stronger.
The second orgasm hit as Megatron accessed Sam's neural network, convincing his body that he had a vibrator up his ass, purring against that perfect pleasure spot, that a tight-hot-wet sheath surrounded his cock, that a lithe, sweaty, soft body writhed against his--
Sam had long given up pretending that the body was Mikaela's, that she looked at him saying she loved him, that the surface beneath him was the hood of a golden yellow Camaro with black stripes--
It had only made it worse, when the fantasy ended.
Metal fingers with sharp edges caressed him now, cold chills running down his body, causing him to stiffen again. "Feeling well, my pet?" Megatron purred and no, that voice wasn't doing it for Sam, it absolutely wasn't...!
Oh god.
He writhed as he was tortured and teased to a third release, his breath coming hard and fast, heart pounding in his chest. He felt wrung out and exhausted, dripping with sweat and shaking like he'd run a marathon. Cum was smeared all over him and had marred Megatron's perfect finish.
"One more, pet," Megatron said, and picked him up, lowering him onto the gleaming silver spike that had revealed itself just above the connector cable. Megatron even thoughtfully swiped some of the sweat and cum from his chest and Sam's and rubbed it on his spike's surface to supplement its own clear slick lubricant.
It was too thick, as always, and only went in slowly, burningly. Sam always felt like he was being torn in two. And oh god it made him hard as a rock, slowly fucking himself up and down on that proud spike, barely breathing as he felt Megatron inside him, inside his body, inside his thoughts, inside his very self.
"Yesss, pet," Megatron hissed, head falling back and burning optics no longer locked on Sam. Metal fingers came down and barely touched Sam's cock before he was coming violently, harder than ever, shaking with perfect pleasure, unable to think, to move, to anything.
*
Spark finally sated, flaring lazily with contentment, Megatron waited a few moments before pulling--carefully; the fleshling was fragile--the well-trained human off his spike. Silvery transfluid gleamed on the organic's inner thighs where the nanite solution had overflowed him.
Megatron always re-marked his pet, never letting the human forget who owned him.
Still, he was gentle as he set the unconscious fleshling back in its box, resealed the container, and went to let the mechanical drones clean its disgusting fluids off of him.
He felt so well and strong; he would need to make sure to use his pet again sooner in the future.
*
Aching, and dreaming as much as he was able to, Sam's thoughts drifted to other times, to brighter colors, to hands that touched him for purposes other than their own wants.
Sometimes he hoped for Starscream to succeed in one of the attempts Sam had gleaned from Megatron's mind. Hoped Starscream would destroy Sam and his box and thus one of Megatron's sources of power. Hoped that someday it might just end, and then felt guilty for that thought.
But never did Sam ever think that Megatron's growing dependency on his socket would bring the tyrant down. Because pleasure is soft, and love is weak....
But the compassion of organics is infectious.