As the door slid shut, Rodimus Prime looked at it in confusion as the latest in a string of mechs left with a vaguely dissatisfied note in their fields. Something stirred under his chest plates, almost as if the Matrix were trying to get out. He couldn't say that he blamed it.
Rodimus had thought that, at least when it came to this particular Primely duty, he was doing a good job, but with each encounter, he became less sure. He had bent over just the way Arcee liked him, having thoughtfully adjusted the height of the stool ahead of time to the changes in his frame. He had invited Ultra Magnus to sit on his desk chair and serviced both valve and spike thoroughly from underneath, while the loyal and hard-working commander pretended to read a data pad that was actually erotic artwork from the Golden Age. Springer had certainly overloaded hard enough while he'd given thorough attention to his rotor-sword.
Blaster had grooved underneath him to the music his Prime had carefully chosen for the occasion, and Blurr seemed to enjoy being cuffed to the berth. Rodimus had even nodded at all the appropriate moments and listened to everything Perceptor had to say on the unique properties of spark energy when it came to particle wave duality while he gave the scientist's own spark casing a most thorough massage. That particular request had seemed quite intimate, but he was the Prime, and it was his duty to make sure his subordinates were well cared for in whatever manner best met their needs.
Bumblebee's dissatisfaction could certainly be attributed to his grief at the loss of Optimus, Rodimus mused. That might explain most of the reactions, actually. He was not Optimus, and probably did not service his mechs as effectively as their preferred Prime had. Rodimus had never actually had the opportunity to approach Optimus for the traditional Prime service, though Ultra Magnus had certainly never disappointed when Hot Rod had asked his commander to take care of him. But the current Matrix-bearer could only imagine that, like everything else, Optimus had excelled in this particular duty.
Rodimus vented, and sat dejectedly at his desk, putting his hand to his chest as he again felt the Matrix squirm. It was just one more way that he was not measuring up. One more thing for everyone to suddenly stop talking about as soon as he entered the refectory. In fact, put in that light, some of the things he'd overheard while standing just outside made too much sense.
"Well, maybe someone should have First Aid check him, just to make sure everything is... you know... working okay?" he'd heard Fireflight suggest in a worried tone.
"Maybe bonding with the Matrix while in Unicron fragged it up," had been Slingshot's response.
Rodimus put his helm in his hands. Maybe he should just go visit Daniel. At least his human friend still seemed to think the world of him, though how long that would last was anyone's guess.
Yes, that was the answer. Go pick up Daniel and take him for a ride, show the human boy some of the sites of Iacon, or maybe just hang out for a bit at the Witwicky's new ambassadorial residence and watch some toons. Having made his decision, Rodimus was about to stand, only to find the door sliding open to Kup, who looked him up and down thoughtfully, while chewing on his cy-gar.
"Roddy, my lad, we gotta talk," the ancient warrior said, sitting down on the chair opposite Prime's, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk.
Here it comes, Rodimus thought, slumping back to his chair. Well, at least he could trust Kup to be honest with him. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled, looking down at his desk.
"Why are ya holdin' out on everyone, kid? They ain't nothin' t' be embarrassed about. Usually a Prime has mechs lined up at the door for 'em."
Rodimus' mouth opened to try to respond, but he found he could think of absolutely nothing to say.
"Aw frag it t' Follassia 'n back, kid. Don't tell me you're squeamish about 'em? I never took ya t' be the squeamish type. Though I heard ole Sentinel was never all the fond of his... even tried t' have 'em removed once, but they grew back! Heh. Now Optimus loved 'em. Could hug all of his officers at once! Such a hugger, that one, from the day he got the Matrix. Started with hugs, at least, but never ended that way, if ya know what I mean."
Rodimus stared blankly at the wizened mech, and finally found his vocalizer. "Kup... I have absolutely no idea what you mean."
"Really?" Kup asked, surprised, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward. "Primus, I thought ya had more experience than all that. Gonna have a word with Magnus 'bout it! I mean that it started with hugs, but by the end of it, Optimus'd have several in every valve in the room. He had quite a set of 'em! Thick ones, thin ones, ones that split into a dozen or more wriggly little things at the ends an' could really give those sensors a work out."
Rodimus heard a strange, strangled binary sound coming from somewhere, and realized it was his own vocalizer as the Matrix again stirred in his chest.
"You really are squeamish about 'em?" Kup asked, concern radiating from him. "Or maybe you're worried they ain't big enough? Lots a little ones can be every bit as stimulatin' as a few big ones, ya know. Or maybe ya think ya don't got enough of 'em? Why don't ya show 'em t' me an' I can put your processors at ease. Seen enough in my time, both on Primes an' organics."
"Show you what, Kup?" Rodimus finally blurted out.
Kup gave his Prime a look as though he'd grown a second head. "Your tentacles, kid! The ones ya grew when ya became Prime."
Now Cybertronians did not, as a rule, dream. Not the way humans and other organic races did. But at this moment, Rodimus highly considered the possibility that he might be dreaming, especially as he felt that squirming feeling stir not just in his chest, but throughout his frame as his armor plates seemed to part and several dozen long, snake-like cables emerged from all over him and began waving and winding around in all their prehensile glory. The tips of the squirming things were crackling with charge.
"Primus!" Kup exclaimed gleefully. "Ya got yourself a set t' be proud of, lad! Now no more hidin' 'em."
"What...w-what the frag!" Rodimus shouted, scrambling out of his chair and backing up into the corner of his office as though he could escape the wriggling, writhing mass - that all appeared to have minds of their own because several were seeking out Kup to stroke him slowly from helm to pede, leaving lurid trails of conductive lubricants in their wake.
"Stop that!" Rodimus commanded the wriggling mass, and they all pulled back, drooping dejectedly, to settle on the floor around him.
"Don't stop, Roddy my lad, ya were doin' great!" Kup exclaimed with a static-filled voice.
"Kup... I-I didn't even know I had them." Rodimus explained, reaching out a hand tentatively to stroke one of the thicker ones and shivering as it sent tingles of pleasure all along the writhing length and back into his frame.
"Course ya got 'em. Every Prime's got tentacles. Everyone knows that, kid," his mentor explained patiently. Rodimus privately thought he must have missed that memo. He'd never been good at reading reports.
Rodimus reached out and stroked another one, and found himself collapsing on his aft when he touched the charged tip. Primus, they were as sensitive as his spike, maybe even more so.
Kup chuckled knowingly.
"Tell ya what, why don't I leave ya a bit so you can get t' know 'em better."
"Yeah... uh... thanks Kup," Rodimus said quickly, his fans kicking up a notch and vents sucking in air to cool the heat that was building just from stroking his new appendages.
"Heh. Have fun, kid," Kup said, grinning and shaking his head as he left.
At the sound of the door sliding shut, all of the cables drooped again.
"Oh, don't look so sad," Rodimus scolded them gently, grasping several of the thinner ones in his hands, stroking them. They began quivering, and the ends wrapped around his fingers and stroked him back, sending little shocks of pleasure that he could feel both through the tentacles and through his hands. "Such friendly little things," he crooned at them.
Several of the others seemed to be catching on to the idea, and two of the thickest wrapped around his thigh plating and pulled his legs wide apart, while others stroked him... pretty much everywhere. Which was nice. Really really nice, Rodimus thought, as the double input of the sensors on this frame and those on the slick tentacles had him vibrating with pleasure.
He didn't even remember retracting his panel. Maybe the tentacles just slipped into the seams and did it manually. He just knew several of the smaller tentacles were wrapping around his spike, while another larger one was slowly mapping the geography of his valve. His entire frame convulsed with each flick and caress of its narrow tip along the rings of sensors that lined his valve walls. As the thicker part of the tentacle filled him, his valve clenched rhythmically, sending burning pleasure along it's entire sensuous length.
"I fragging love the Matrix!" Rodimus groaned as a second one began moving along the first, while the others wrapped around his legs and wrists, binding him tight so he couldn't squirm. When a third, thinner one began wriggling into his valve, his vocalizer shorted out, which was probably good, because otherwise someone would have heard the shouting.
The three tentacles in his valve began moving in and out and around in no obvious rhythm, the thinner one squirming and wriggling around the two thicker ones, all of them expanding his valve in ways he hadn't thought possible and finding nodes he hadn't even known existed. The ones wrapping his legs spread them even wider, and yet another wiggled deviously in front of his optics before slipping happily into his mouth so he could suck on it and lick it desperately.
It was too much. All of the double sensor input from the parts of his frame he was familiar with and his new, wonderful Primely parts had his charge building so high that relays were frying and smoke was beginning to wisp from joints and now yet another tentacle was squeezing into his valve and...
Rodimus Prime's systems reset and he slowly came back to consciousness following the Best Overload Ever. As his optics onlined, he looked at himself, only to find not a tentacle in sight. Had it really all been a dream? If so, the humans were on to something, because it had been a fragging awesome one. However, a dream did not explain why every plate of his armor was covered in slick lubricant and his valve was aching so beautifully.
As if to answer his unspoken question, one of the little ones snaked out from somewhere near his spoiler mountings, slid over his shoulder, poked him in the chest, and then slid back to its place.
"Oh Primus, I love being Prime!" was the most fitting response he could give.