Chapter Text
Blackarachnia knew she would at some point find Tarantulas's new lab; it was a bit of a hassle to get around all the safety measures, but only slightly singed, she managed to slip inside, ready to snoop.
She was surprised to see him whistle as he worked; he was unusually chipper after such a loud night they suffered - the sounds from Megatron's room were already disturbing enough in the last weeks, but the decibels that tore through the walls were off the scale this time.
Their leader was absent at the morning check-in, but nobody was going to complain; right now they wouldn't be able to look him in the optics.
But Tarantulas…
He was ecstatic.
Suspicious.
"Why are you so happy?" she asked, dropping herself down right behind him, curious. He flinched, but aside from a grumble of getting another uninvited guest, he resumed the cheery melody.
"Wouldn't you like to know, witch?" he teased, putting one of his various experiments inside the container; if she had to guess, it looked like he was preparing the lab for his absence.
Where would he be going?
Was he abandoning this location already, right as she found it?
She leaned on the counter, picking one of the vials up, before he snatched it right out of her hand.
Bummer.
"Oh come on, gruesome, spill - what creature is suffering for you to be this full of glee?" she prodded further, wanting to get something out of her efforts.
Tarantulas snickered, putting the item into the prepared hold. "Nobody, I assure you," he replied with a cackle, pausing his packing for a moment to look at her straight. "In fact, I can say there are three very satisfied parties as the outcome of my actions, and I am off to enjoy the consequences," he drawled, looking at the direction of something that appeared to be a whiteboard covered with a tarp haphazardly.
She looked between it and him, confused.
"What consequences?"
When he did not reply aside from smiling wider, she started to get impatient. "Tarantulas, what have you done?"
He snorted at her tone, amused. "Inferno asked for my help - I provided it," he admitted with a shallow, mocking bow; that only made Blackarachnia frown.
"What did you get in return?" she queried, optics narrowing; there was always a price when one wanted something from a spider.
She would know, being one herself.
"Did it out of the kindness of my spark," he answered in false seriousness, servos on his chest, optics wide in innocence.
"Ha, right," she huffed, crossing her arms. "What did he give you?"
He dropped the act with a giggle. "Oh, nothing - and a lot, at once," he said ominously, turning back to seal the last container. Putting them neatly on the desk, he looked them over, nodding when all appeared properly locked.
Clasping his hands loudly, he swiveled around on his heel.
"Right! I am off to enjoy my peace as Megatron recuperates from his fun time with his little loyal ant and gets to figure out what to do with the eggs," he stated simply, the chelicerae moving rapidly, betraying an attempt to hide a laugh.
Blackarachnia blinked slowly, echoing flatly:
"Eggs?"
Tarantulas nodded. "Oh yes, eggs," he confirmed, legs shaking from mirth. "Lots of them, as I have been asked."
She stared, quietly processing his words, while he gestured to the hidden whiteboard. "Here, you can look at it for reference, knock yourself out," he prompted, wondering over and taking the fabric down, exposing the contents to the other spider.
His shoulders shook from his laughter as he noted her stunned expression - and then had to stop himself from breaking down completely as her face continued to fall as her optics darted across the multitude of notes, pictures, and charts.
Judging by her horrified expression, she was just starting to piece the last few months together.
Slapping himself in the chest repeatedly, he got his reactions under control. Taking hold of the necessary equipment for his planned outing, he walked behind the frozen Blackarachnia, her lips moving as she read out some of the most preposterous elements of Inferno's 'research'.
He was familiar with every inch of this board - he knew there were a lot of those.
"Now, I'm off to go deal with my projects," he announced, stopping right as he was about to go into the tunnels, tilting his helm.
"Friendly piece of advice: do the same, take a break - go flirt with your boyfriend or something," he suggested, waving one of his free legs around.
Chuckling at the weakly muttered curse in his direction, he left.
Alone with the whiteboard, Blackarachnia didn't know how long she spent standing there, her processor tied up with her newfound knowledge.
Shaking her head, she tore her optics away, dialing Silverbolt.
In all of the insanity found in this lab, Tarantulas's suggestion was the one thing that made any sort of sense.
*****
She moaned loudly, satisfied, as she ran her digits over her boyfriend's helm; he was beaming at her openly, the traces of her transfluid still on his face - he just finished sucking her off with so much vigor, she was still feeling the aftershocks of the overload in her frame. Leaning back, she relaxed onto the grass.
Now, if only she had a cigarette…
Feeling him start to nip on her plating again, she gasped with elation. "Someone is eager today, aren't you, handsome?" she scolded him playfully, moving her legs to give him more access as he started to mouth along her spike, slowly getting hard once more.
He looked up at her, nuzzling into her thigh with the side of his face. "Well, when my lady calls for me out of schedule, I couldn't help but be filled with joy!" Silverbolt exclaimed proudly, making her roll her optics in exasperated affection.
Curse her for loving such a sap.
She petted him gently, urging him down to her length; he followed her direction easily, taking the tip in his intake and rolling his glossa around it slowly. "If the symptoms of that include such enthusiastic blowjobs, I am all for doing this more often," she murmured with a sigh.
His hand was stroking her firmly as he rose up for a moment, lips coming off her spike with a loud pop, the traces of oral fluids gathering at the edges of his mouth, as he queried:
"Not that I mean to pry, my lady, but what prompted the change?"
Blackarachnia harrumphed as if annoyed, which made him quickly lower his head, focused on bringing her pleasure. With his mouth occupied, she realized she did, in fact, have one pack of cigs on her, which she won at the last game night from Terrorsaur.
Taking one out, she lit it up, taking a drag as her spike was getting the attention it deserved. Letting out a puff of smoke slowly, she stared at him from under her helm and grinned.
"Hmm… you know what," she mused, rocking her hips a little as he took her deeper, optics fixed on her while he listened attentively to her every word.
Adorable.
He was such a good boy, wasn't he?
Perfect for a bad girl like her.
She snickered when he perked up as she rubbed his audial. "You did such a good job, I think you earned a reward," she praised him with a purr.
When he appeared to want to speak up, she pressed warningly on his head, urging him to stay on task. Shushing his low whine, she waited until he began to bob up and down her spike before she continued:
"I am going to share some good quality gossip, big guy."
Taking another drag, she waited a moment to hear him whimper from intrigue, enjoying building the suspense. "And it is good, trust me, got it from the source," she added mischievously, his efforts increasing in getting her to overload again, hoping to coax the words out from her by pleasing her.
Her good, smart boy.
Coming with a shout at a particularly wicked twist of his glossa, she took the cigarette closer to her intake, letting out a puff again before she decided to deliver on her promise.
"Tarantulas told me that Inferno asked him to make it possible for Megatron to 'lay eggs' because that idiot had an idea that interfacing with his 'Royalty' wasn't enough," she explained, digits curling in emphasis as he locked her clean.
He stopped mid-swipe, glossa stiff under her softened spike.
Maybe she should fuck his face next time…
Noting the idea for another day, she rutted gently against his tongue until he got the hint. "And now, apparently, it worked," she elaborated, smirking before she went in for the kill:
"There are lots of eggs."
He spluttered, having barely finished cleaning her up, and whipped his helm up.
"No way!"
"You wish, sweet cheeks," she replied with a wink, indulging him by letting him cuddle up to her. She laid there, one arm around him, another holding the remains of the cig, dismayed to see it was nearly gone.
With one last inhale, she extinguished it on the ground. "Anyways, you understand I had to try to purge this from ny processor, which you had done very well," she admitted, putting her now free servo against her helm with a long, heavy ex-vent:
"Of course, now I remember it again…"
Looking down at him with one optic peeking between her digits, she turned to tuck him closer, running her fingers below his chin.
"Think you could help me forget once more?"
Silverbolt was still reeling from the piece of intel he just heard, but at the touch of his beloved he spurred to action.
"Whatever my lady needs, I shall provide!" he vowed, tucking the information to the back of his mind as he focused on mapping out the body of his girlfriend with his mouth for as long as she would need him tonight.
His mental breakdown could wait.
*****
Flying back hours later, the fuzor landed on wobbly legs; most of his energy had been spent, but on the way to the base he couldn't help but finally let his thoughts process what his lover had shared with him, leaving him even weaker.
"Hey, mister 'went-on-unscheduled-patrol'," Rattrap called out in greeting, nudging him with an elbow as he sat down at one of the empty stations. He grunted in return, not picking up on the obvious allusion, used to it by now.
The smaller Maximal clicked his glossa, unsatisfied by the lack of response; still, his face lit up in delight, as he prepared to share the latest news with the bird-dog, knowing he would get a reaction one way or another.
"You are never going to guess what that spy camera we planted months ago managed to pick up," he said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning over Silverbolt's shoulder.
The flier looked up at him, optics blank.
Please, don't let it be real.
Please, let it be just a weird joke.
"Are there… eggs involved?"
Rattrap gasped in outrage. "How did you know?" he shot back, puzzled as to how did this tidbit already reach the flyboy's ears.
Perhaps those sessions with the she-spider were not just filled with those two canoodling for the entire time…
"You don't want to know," the fuzor countered, feeling the beginnings of regret forming - his beloved was, apparently, telling the truth.
The spy eyed him critically, letting the matter drop as he spread his arms with a loud heave. "Well, mister spoilsport, you got it in one - we could see a few Preds lugging around some eggs, we got no idea why," he stated with a shrug, pointing towards the main feed where Waspinator and Terrorsaur were periodically seen walking with armful of strange eggs, careful not to drop any.
Silverbolt was starting to feel ill.
Rattrap ignored his silent distress as he tapped the monitor. "But maybe it would give us a clue as to why they have been so damn efficient lately!" he proposed, looking closer at the feed.
"I told you, rodent, Megatron is getting laid," Dinobot gritted out from another station, running the analysis of remaining stasis pods, hoping to get them an advantage to prepare better for other arrivals in advance.
The rat stuck his glossa out. "Oh, quit it, you overgrown lizard, it stopped being funny weeks ago!" he admonished, frustrated to hear the same old joke; one would have guessed the ex-Pred would have learned to let a failed gag go.
"But… Rattrap…"
He turned towards Silverbolt, who was pointedly staring away from the screen; with hands on hips, watching the other's intake open and close mutely, he waited for the flier to spit it out.
The fuzor finally cleared his vocalizer.
"He is not in the wrong."
Rattrap tilted his helm, bamboozled by these words completely. "What did you say?"
Silverbolt slotted his digits together, gripping them tightly. "I have been informed that Megatron and Inferno have been… very active in that regard," he relayed faithfully, before he pointed at the feed. "Those eggs? They are a result of that. "
The rest of the crew on Axalon stared at him, jaws dropped.
Aside from one.
Dinobot furrowed his optical ridges, before he nodded to himself. "Well, that is certainly new," he commented dryly, turning towards the flier with a question:
"Tarantulas's work, I assume?"
The fuzor hummed back in confirmation, recalling all the details he had been given. "Yes, he had provided the… means."
"Interesting…" the raptor tapped his chin, thinking something over, before he snorted. "But fitting, in a way."
"Wait, hold up, time-out," Rattrap stepped up, hands raised as he approached his bickering buddy. Standing as tall as he could, still shorter than the sitting mech, he pushed the other with one finger in accusation.
"Are you saying that all of those comments were not just your sick sense of humor?"
Dinobot sneered. "Why would I joke about something like this, mouse?" he countered, before he banged his fist on the armrest. "I recognized the signs from experience."
The processors of the other Maximals were, one by one, slotting back the last weeks into a different narrative, events flashing before their optics.
*****
"Man, Megatron was seriously intense today," Rattrap complained, dragging himself onto one of the seats, armor still sizzling from getting hit by a few blasts in the field. "I nearly got shot in the head - twice!"
Dinobot limped to the other station, collapsing into it with a hiss.
"It pains me to agree with the cheese-breath, but there has been, indeed, a change in Predacon activity," he noted, watching with disinterest as Optimus loaded Cheetor into the CR chamber; the cat has had the worst of luck lately, and with the recent kidnapping, he kept on panicking whenever Inferno would appear on the battlefield.
"Do you have any ideas?" Optimus inquired, letting himself collapse against the cold wall of the chamber, unwilling to move for a while.
The raptor grimaced. "One, actually," he rumbled, voice grave as he said:
"I believe Megatron is interfacing again."
A hush fell across the room, broken by a snicker that turned into a fit of laughter from Rattrap's side.
"Man, and I thought you had no humor in your body!" he managed to wheeze out before he started coughing up, internal injuries jostled by the amusement.
Dinobot flashed his teeth, but his snarl was lost in the middle of a bridge filled with humorous chuckling.
*****
Cheetor paced around angrily. "Okay, this is seriously wrong, it's the third time we had to abandon a recovery mission because of the Preds," he pointed out, taking yet another round around the bridge.
"Megs is keeping them all deceptively busy, what is he hiding?" Rattrap chimed in, tinkering on the side; his hands were itching for activity, and with his recent damage, he couldn't have helped in the latest race to the pod.
Rhinox hummed dissatisfied at his console. "I wish I could tell you, but the spy camera had not seen any significant movement in weeks," he muttered, waving towards the live feed from the Predacon base. "Where did you plant it?"
The spy tutted, the memories of that mission still feeling unpleasant.
"I didn't have much time to be picky, they were initiating lockdown faster than I anticipated," he stated defensively, remembering the wild run out as he heard Preds checking in with Megs, preparing for the sweep across the ship, before he booked it, the corridor shutting down right after he made it out of the Darksyde.
"It's close to the bridge, I am certain," he finished confidently, fairly familiar with the setup of the ship itself; if he had one more minute, he could have made it all the way in there, but alas, he had to leave it where he was.
"Well, whatever they are doing, it's not happening there," Rhinox shook his helm tiredly, resigning himself to another day of no progress.
"You all aren't listening to me," Dinobot interrupted them, claws scratching loudly on the table.
"Megatron must be getting railed often, it's the only explanation for the shift," he insisted, digits curling around the edge of the surface, digging deep in frustration.
Rattrap huffed, appalled by the fact that the report was still clinging onto this gag. "Like anyone would try to get around his array without getting their helm bitten off," he mumbled under his breath.
The other's audials picked it up, making the mech get up, stalking his prey. "Are you afraid to get bit, rat?"
"Yeah, with your teeth? I'd catch something for sure," the spy rose to the challenge, needing the banter.
And, possibly, a little bit of action.
"Silence, you-!" Dinobot launched himself onto Rattrap, pulling them into a struggling ball of violence; the rest of Maximals returned to their posts.
It was business as usual.
*****
Rattrap tossed his broken weapon on the table. "I am going to lose my mind," he cried, helm between his servos. "How are they still keeping it up?"
With the recent increase of failures, they were nowhere close to understanding what was going on in the enemy camp to make them somehow semi-competent.
"As long as whoever spikes Megatron can keep it up, he will continue to be a worthy adversary," Dinobot stated calmly, knowing by then he would not be taken seriously.
And, as on cue, came the groan from the rodent.
"This isn't funny, Dino-clod."
"Truth usually isn't," he said quietly with a shake of a fist; no matter what they thought, he knew he was right.
*****
Rattrap rubbed at his optics furiously. "Oh god, I can't stop trying to imagine this!" he moaned, stopping his attempt to remove the images from his processor this way to glare at Dinobot.
"How could you say it so casually?"
The raptor crossed his arms, smirking in vindication. "I told you, it was the only explanation."
"Wait, you said you knew the signs from experience," Optimus rose up from his seat, leaning over the central console, vocalizer straining.
The warrior sighed. "Well, of course I did," he began, following with an easy confession:
"I used to interface with Megatron when I was his lieutenant."
Pulling up his memories, he ignored their gobsmacked expressions. "He is very demanding, but he can take a lot, so it's not as bad as you may think," he pointed out with a faraway gaze, claws rubbing against each other as the archival data flew in.
He cleared his processor by force, realizing everyone was just staring at him. "Why are you looking at me like this?"
Optimus tried to say something, but Dinobot could only take a guess that the main problem was the reason for such an arrangement.
"We needed to find a way to work together," he offered as background circumstance, slightly off-beat as he expected some of the details to be pretty obvious to anyone who laid any attention.
He had it figured out after a week in the other Predacon’s company, so it wasn't that hard to piece together.
Slowly, seeing lack of comprehension, he laid facts out.
"Megatron is much more receptive for suggestions and reflections when thoroughly spiked," he outlined first, trying to sketch aloud the profile he had loosely held in his processor for the first time. "It helped to get him more stable - he was already not a fool, so it usually was all we needed to not claw each other's optics out."
He motioned to both Silverbolt and the video feed. "Inferno must have kept him very busy," he observed neutrally, but pursing his lips, he ended up conceding:
"Can't say anything bad about the results, though…"
Optimus dragged his hand across his face. "I have so many questions…" he trailed off, but Dinobot did not let it go.
"Like what?"
Primal's optics were filled with incredulity. "I don't know, maybe how often have you done this?" he asked in a higher pitch than normal, immediately berating himself.
He didn't want to know that.
But he was going to learn anyway, now.
The raptor leaned back into the seat, watching his claws with mild interest. "As often as I needed him to be a good commander."
"So… everyday or so?" Optimus inferred from the statement, feeling his worldview shatter.
Dinobot did not seem to mind sharing more details. "We did have a bit of a break when he went to steal the Golden Disc, though," he noted with an unhappy turn of his dermas.
At that admission, Primal slammed his hands on the table hard, startling everyone.
"Wait, do I understand this correctly," he gritted his teeth, looking at the former Predacon.
"You are saying that the fact that Megatron was less efficient before was because you weren't there to interface with him regularly anymore?"
The warrior pondered it for a moment, before he tapped lightly on his cheek. "Now that you mention it, I can't say it's an incorrect conclusion," he acquiesced with a bow of his helm, finding no fault in this logic.
"This is absurd!" the Maximal leader yelled in denial, but Dinobot sneered at that at once.
"You would think so, but he does need his valve spiked often to function properly," he remarked with a confidence borne from experience, before he looked back on the feed.
"Though I have to say, the ant went to another level," he mentioned, mildly impressed, before he finished with a grumble, processor already engaged in calculation:
"Wonder how that would play on the efficiency differential…"
Optimus watched his friend for a moment, but when it was obvious the revelations were for a moment over, he fell down into the seat just like the others and stared at the ceiling.
"I need a vacation…" he said wistfully, gathering nods from the rest of his crew.
*****
At Darksyde, Waspinator, Terrorsaur, and Scorponok were busy moving the many eggs from Megatron's room to one of the less used labs; the environmental controls allowed to get the temperature to be cranked up if necessary, which apparently seemed to matter to their leader.
At least it wasn't too far, with the shortcut through the bridge…
"What do you think they will do with all of these?" the pterodactyl questioned aloud, putting another batch down, making sure they stayed intact.
The scorpion shrugged, unloading his own armful into the corner, checking to observe if they would start to roll away. "Dunno, don't think about this," he said tiredly, having no rest on the previous night - his own quarters were the closest to Megatron's, so he had it the worst.
"Maybe we could eat them?" Terrorsaur suggested in jest, imagining the size of the frying pan they would have needed.
"Waspinator would love scrambled eggs!" the striped bot replied cheerfully, hands clapping at the thought.
At the panicked shushing motions he stared at the other two in confusion, before a low, familiar growl came from behind him.
"Waspinator better keep his mouth shut, or I will have to remove it permanently from his miserable head," Megatron threatened, walking inside the room; his crew started to inch closer to the exit, not willing to face his wrath, relieved when he sent them out on his own.
It was a close call!
Waiting until they left, the leader of Predacons took in the sight in front of him with a mix of odd pride and exhaustion.
Running his servo down his front, he was only hoping that the indent on his abdomen was not as obvious as he felt it to be.
While whatever Inferno did last night had an obvious result, as the multiple eggs were a testament to, apparently one of the effects included him creating his own ones, growing larger with every hour.
His valve was itching in anticipation.
He called Inferno to join him quickly.
He would need his… assistance.
Hearing loud steps in the corridor and the loud 'My Queen! ' from the threshold, and seeing the expression of wonder when he turned, his posture emphasizing the small bump as he stood, hands idly resting on it, surrounded by the other eggs, he realized belatedly that it might have had an encouraging effect on the ant.
At this rate, they may actually end up scrambling the unfertilized ones…
Please check out the awesome art from my TF Big Bang 2023 partner, Wormy!
