Fic: Hybrid Sam's Ponderings
Title: Hybrid Sam's Ponderings
Pairing: Sam/Bee
Rating: M/NC-17 for holo!sex and spark!sex
Warnings: Smut, humor, and a bit of angst
Summary: Post RotF. Takes place 18 months after Bee's Ponderings. Sam's thoughts and feelings over the changes that have happened to him.
Chapter 1 community.livejournal.com/beexsam/398024.h
Chapter 2 community.livejournal.com/beexsam/399323.h
Chapter 3 community.livejournal.com/beexsam/401106.h
It could be said that dying changes a person.
Of course, it would figure that dying then coming back to life as something else should really change a person.
I had been fighting with chronic leukemia for almost a year and a half. The day I died, I could feel the darkness closing around me, but it wasn’t the scary darkness you know as a kid, like when the electricity suddenly goes off during a summer thunderstorm. It was soothing in its own way, painless and gentle, like sleep pulling over you, as soft as a blanket, while being rocked by your mom when you were little.
I was as ready to die as I could be, and my only sad thought was that I wouldn’t be with my Bee anymore.
I had forgotten that as Sam Witwicky, my avoidance of unwanted events out of my control generally tended to hang around the ‘sucks’ area of the rating chart. So instead of finding myself in a tropical paradise with a copy of my holoform Bee offering me a back massage while both of us were completely naked, I’m standing in front of six huge semi-dead alien robots that have graciously decided to run my afterlife for me.
Even though I knew that they were technically on the ‘good guy’ side of the alien robot civil war and probably entertained no thoughts of squishing me, I couldn’t help but start to feel just a bit nervous without Bumblebee there and found myself wishing endlessly in my mind for him to magically appear.
That thought was enough to make my heart start aching fiercely, like the heartburn after eating fifteen hotdogs too many at the county fair. All I wanted was my Bee; my guardian, my friend, my lover.
The Primes began speaking and I tried my best to pay attention, but there must have been some type of set-up where newly dead people are disoriented, because I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering over half formed thoughts.
I did get the memo that they were sending me back with the Allspark’s energy that was still stored in my body, that it couldn’t have healed me until my body had completely shut down, and that made sense to even my frazzled brain. After all, I’d been holding the thing three different times when it did its robot voodoo magic.
Then they started getting all philosophical on me, talking about ‘change that shall join the two as one’ and that ‘change must be had to bring life back to its child’. I didn’t get a chance to ask them to relay it in human terms before I was nearly blinded by white light again, only to wake up, obviously alive and no longer feeling the pain of the leukemia.
Everyone was still around my bed, the humans in the room screaming and squealing with happiness, and though it was nice to hear them again, and also getting a very possessive kiss from my very much missed alien robot boyfriend, the noise was beginning to give me a Decepticon level of nasty headache.
Holding up my hand for silence, and mildly shocked when it worked, I stared right into Optimus’ holoform’s eyes and parroted back the best I could the Primes’ message in a voice barely above a whisper.
I blame the sudden coming back to life and awe reserved for beings that could just have easily squashed me instead of brought me back to the land of the living that I couldn’t get my voice louder than a shaky whisper.
Sideswipe went to guard the door and keep any nurses or doctors from breaking up the party and Ratchet asked if he could do a scan on me, just to make sure that there weren’t any nasty leftovers of the leukemia hiding out in my body. I went ahead and gave the okay, though I wasn’t really in the mood, knowing that with my mother, overprotective boyfriend, and often scary ex-girlfriend in the room, I wasn’t going to get out of it, even if I did refuse.
Ratchet, after he finished his scanning, then dropped the bomb with no prior warning at all.
Well shit. I’d forgotten so soon that as Sam Witwicky, my avoidance of unwanted events out of my control generally tended to hang around the ‘sucks’ area of the rating chart. So I had been brought back to life, only to be turned into a half alien robot, complete with a spark in my chest that had meshed itself into my heart. Oh and I’d probably live after half as long as a regular Cybertronian, whom I already knew from talking to Bumblebee can live practically forever as long as they aren’t offed by a Decepticon.
White noise began to fill up my hearing and I vaguely remember asking everyone to leave, even Bumblebee, though the damned spark in my chest shrunk and twinged when he left the room.
As soon as the room was empty, I let my panicked feelings out. My first thought was to wonder whether or not I was still Samuel James Witwicky anymore, and if I wasn’t, would Bumblebee still love me? That train of thought led me to hysterical laughter which quickly turned into sobbing and only stopped once I had fallen to sleep from sheer exhaustion and shock.
I spent three days in a nearly catatonic state, pondering on who I was and how I could go about dealing with being half alien. After hours of contemplation I finally decided that I was still Samuel James Witwicky, but simply got an upgrade.
When I came out of the room, it was Bumblebee’s embrace that surrounded me first, and then my parents and Mikaela readily joined in afterwards. It was as I returned their hugs that I realized another thing that had changed. I was stronger; much, much strong than I used to be.
Within the first twelve hours of being back in my parents’ house I had broken four glasses, my alarm clock, and the banister railing. I started to avoid touching anyone over the next few days, keeping my hands shoved in my pockets to prevent them from hurting someone I cared for. It steadily progressed into avoiding touches from others as well, although every time it was Bumblebee I shied away from, I felt like a little piece of me was dying again.
It was Mikaela who took up the challenge of making me see reason. The ‘warrior goddess’ merely came charging at me full tilt, yelling out my name as she got closer. I turned around to see if there was some rogue Decepticon that I had missed and that was my mistake. She slammed into me and brought us both to the ground. Straddling me, she brought her heads forwards to cup my face.
“You died. Again,” she whispered despairingly, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from filling as I watched a few stray tears fall from her own. “Don’t keep us from making sure you’re still here.”
Wisely, that was the last of my reserving touch, including my boyfriend.
That night was one of our times together that, due to my newly acquired processors, will stay burned onto my core database for my eternity. It was the first time we had full blown out sex since my leukemia had taken a turn for the worse four months previously and after having thought I would never feel it again, I was more than desperate.
The first round was nothing but the urgent need to become joined again after so long.
Everything about it was hard and fast. Bee hadn’t even started with one finger; instead shoving two lube-coated ones into my entrance and pounding them against my prostate in a way that had me screaming in seconds, begging for more, for him. He only hesitated briefly after my pleadings, before slamming his cock into me, setting a brutal pace.
We rarely ever fucked like we did then, our kisses more like mauling each other’s mouths in our haste and leaving various bruises and hickeys everywhere our lips could reach. With barely restrained power, he flipped us over so that I was straddling him. Seizing my hips in his hands, he then pulled me practically all the way off him before slamming me back down, forcing me to ride him at his rate. I screamed, he growled, and I reveled in every painful minute of it. I wasn’t one who enjoyed pain, but after everything I’d suffered through, the pain was a great reminder to me that I was still alive.
After all, dead people didn’t feel the comforting stretch and burn of their boyfriend’s cock slamming into their entrance. Dead people didn’t scream/moan into their boyfriend’s mouth to have him swallow it down like it was damndest best thing he’d ever tasted. Dead people didn’t have climaxes so great and sudden that the ceiling fell down and the floor flew up, and without having there cocks touched at all.
That was also the first time my climax made me black out.
Our second round was the complete opposite, tenderly slow and gentle.
It was very much like our first time together. Soft kisses were placed nearly everywhere on my face; eyelids, cheeks, nose, lips, earlobes, and even down into the valley of my throat. After lips had finished their show of devotion, Bee’s tongue came onto the scene, running over every inch of skin in thanks, paying special attention to my nipples, suckling and laving them and I swore I could feel the cherishment in every gentle stroke.
He then moved to my cock, gracing it with so soft heat and shallow sucking that had my hips minutely rocking forward, while my hands were busy gliding through his hair and fingertips brushing tenderly against his cheeks, down his nose, and across his forehead.
My reddened and slightly abused entrance was soothed by first one and then two generously lubed fingers before a smoothly slick tongue took over my preparation. After several minutes of this, a third finger was introduced before his cock was lathered with the slippery oil and placed at my entrance, only pushing in once his eyes had locked onto mine and seen the assent that laid there.
Slow and docile rocking began and his cock glided in and out of my channel in what felt like one long caress, as he lay over me, covering me with his own body. His eyes never left my face and chaste kisses were bestowed upon my lips at random intervals, along with his supple hands stroking through my short curls. My legs slowly came up and wrapped around his waist, locking him in close to me, and entwining us both.
We kept the same speed for the entire time, our gazes never leaving each other, and by the end both of us had tears running down our faces. We mixed our tears, sweat, saliva, semen, and bodies together until you couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other started. Together we climaxed and then basked in the afterglow, exchanging whispered endearments and loving touches. I had an unspoken love of feeling his semen inside of me, an undeniable mark that I was his.
The third and last round of the night was a complete mixture of the first two, save for one difference. It was me doing the penetrating, a rare thing in our bedroom activities.
It wasn’t because Bee didn’t allow it or enjoy it when I did top, but it’s just that I don’t often feel like dominating or being in control. Anyone who calls me a girl I’ll sic my giant alien robot boyfriend on, but I really like having Bee protect, guard, and take care of me. Even his territorial over-protectiveness has its own appeal.
So I was a bit stunned when after having come down from our second release, Bee slathered my cock in the oil and guided me to his entrance, my tip barely brushing against the puckered muscle and then locked gazes with me.
He was asking me without words, something I had easily gotten used to with him not being able to use his voice for so long. And just like when he wordlessly asked me to protect the cube in his stead, I obeyed, pushing steadily into him and gasping out at the clasp of so tight heat and the unexplainable feeling of being welcomed home.
It wasn’t hurried like the first round, or drawn out either like the second one. Instead, it was a perfect combination of speed and slowness, gentle and harsh, giving and taking. Bee had rolled us over onto our sides and none of our hands were idle. Mine were alternating between running across his hips and thighs while his traced patterns and unknown symbols on my neck and back. My infamous low self-esteem had a heartfelt leap when Bee hit his release first, and without me having touched his cock once.
I crashed a few lunges after, my hips thrusting and twitching in short little jerks as I left my semen in Bee’s channel. Feeling as if all the energy in my body had being drained from me into my climax, my exhausted body turned itself into a puddle of goo. Utterly satiated from three intense rounds of sex after a four month dry spell, I fell into sleep nearly instantly, instinctually curling up into Bee.
That night was the first time I slept without being plagued by nightmares since my second death.
My parents were a bit reluctant, but eventually caved to my begging and gave their okay for me to live at the Autobots’ base while getting used to my new body. Optimus acted pretty much like a father who’d suddenly gotten the daughter-in-law he always wanted. Seeing as how the Autobots had pretty much raised Bumblebee, I could see the connection of him being their son. Plus, with me and Bumblebee being ‘sparkmates’ as he coined it, I was being kinda brought into the family. My mind couldn’t even balk at the thought of being the ‘daughter’ of the match. After all, I was more fragile than even the twins.
Ratchet and Bumblebee did the best job helping me relax. The former by answering any questions that I had and scanning me for any changes, and the later by simply being there for me and keeping me laughing.
Though Optimus tried his best to have the other Autobots give me time to get adjusted to my new body and surroundings, it didn’t keep Ironhide from pushing me to start weapons training with him, it didn’t keep Sideswipe from pestering me with options and questions about what alt form I was going to choose, and it really didn’t keep the twins from annoying me about what my new ‘Autobot’ name was going to be.
Deep down, I knew the twins were just being their annoying selves, but I couldn’t help but feel more anxious every time the twins brought up the idea of me taking a new name. It didn’t help that it was the thing I was most nervous about; the idea that I wouldn’t be Sam Witwicky anymore, that I’d be something alien, something neither my parents nor Mikaela would want to deal with. I just wanted to keep being myself, to keep being just Sam.
Over the next few days at the base, I gained more self-confidence and started to feel comfortable in my new body. Regular sex with my boyfriend was a big part of it, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.
Yet again, I had forgotten about how my avoidance of unwanted events out of my control generally tended to hang around the ‘sucks’ area of the rating chart. This time though, the disaster was because of the twins. Then again, I now know that it’s always the twins’ fault.
They had gotten the brilliant idea to kidnap me and threaten to do ‘maintenance’ on me with one of Ratchet’s preferred wrenches if I didn’t call off Bumblebee. They’d snatched me during one of the random rare times when Bumblebee wasn’t at my side and tied me down to the berth of the med bay.
For some unknown reason I got really really scared. Maybe it was too much of a reminder of what Megatron had done, or that my new body didn’t cope as well with the feeling of helplessness. Whatever triggered it, my mind kinda whited out for a moment and when I came back to myself, Bumblebee was between me and the twins, there was a smoking hole in one of the med bay’s wall, and my entire body was now made of metal. Freakin’ metal.
Arms, legs, chest, back, head, everything was metal. I looked like a transformer who’d gotten zapped by a shrink ray. At least I was the same height, so walking wasn’t too much of a problem, but I didn’t get very far before I collapsed, my body curling in on itself as my mind went into meltdown.
Thoughts were flashing back and forth in my brain. No more hugging my parents now, I’d surely crush them. No more shopping trips with Mikaela or rides out to the lake with Bumblebee, I couldn’t be seen by people. No more outside, no more being just Sam, never ever ever.
It was Bumblebee that brought me back. After a couple hours of merely holding and touching me while also in his protoform, I finally calmed down enough to open my optics with Bee’s coaxing, and was met with human skin. I’d turned back to human while thinking.
Of course a check-up with Ratchet was done and it was discovered that my protoform took over when I wished it to, or when my human body felt incredibly afraid or stressed. Ratchet also thought that I would be able to scan and transform into an alt mode without damaging myself. Throughout the entire ordeal Bumblebee cradled me in his hands and when the scans were finished, handed me to Ratchet for safekeeping before going after the twins, revenge burning in his optics.
That’s when the betting started between the others and I learned that Autobots were not much different from humans when it came to guessing at the odds.
I couldn’t help but feel like withdrawing again from the rest of the group with the recent incident, but once again Bumblebee was able to pull me out of my funk.
With me being Cybertronian now, we knew that we had countless decades to spend together, so long as we made sure not to let the other get offlined by any rouge Decepticons that may be hanging around. So I wasn’t really expecting for Bumblebee to ask me to sparkbond with him, not even two weeks after the incident with the twins.
Though I was taken by surprise, I agreed quickly, not wanting Bee to think that I didn’t want to or wasn’t ready. Having nothing else to base it on, I thought it would be similar to sex, two bodies joined at one point right? It was, and yet wasn’t.
It started out similar. Bee picked me up and brought me close so that our chests were even. Then it was soft stroking and processors that were built to pick up the slightest brush of pressure tingled with delight and warmth. Slowly explaining to me as he went, Bee then started stroking and rubbing my chest plate catches, pleasant electric shocks running through my systems as I tried to mimic what he was doing to his own catches.
When my chest plate catches finally unhinged and opened my chest cavity to reveal my spark, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling or extreme vulnerability, like being naked in room full of strangers. Bee soothed me, saying I felt that way because my spark was exposed, out in the open, making an easy target for an enemy. But there were no enemies here, only my Bee.
With slightly clumsy fingers, I unhinged Bee’s chest plate catches and he brought our chests flush together, love shining clear through his electric blue optics. Joined, connected, with warmth softer, but no less intense than that of sex washed over me in waves. It was better than sex, no a hundred times better than sex because not only could I feel my pleasure, but also Bee’s as well. It flowed back and forth between us; light, warmth, comfort, love.
Along with the flow of pleasure there were memories as well. I saw Cybertron engulfed in war, mechs and femmes being massacred left and right, Megatron laughing all the while. I saw its demise as well, once the cube had been sent away in a futile attempt to stop Megatron. I watched Bee as a sparkling bothering Ironhide and then hiding behind Ratchet to be saved from Ironhide’s wrath. I knew that I was also sharing memories with Bee; me crying in the bathroom on my first day of kindergarten after my mom had left, spilling cake on my mom’s azaleas at my eighth birthday party, and going to buy my first and only car.
The flood of memories slowed down to a trickle, but the light and warmth continued to grow, until it felt like the two of us were wrapped up in a cocoon of bliss and once we hit what I instinctually knew was overload, the light expanded to become all that I could see.
The descent from overload was more like a gradual slide than the sudden fall of sex, and we basked in the recent memory of our joining, now ‘married’ by Cybertronian standards. Even after both our chest plates had fully closed, for countless minutes afterwards, I laid in Bee’s hands, content to cuddle and gently touch each other.
It was the first time I didn’t want to immediately return to my human form and felt comfortable in my protoform.
Exactly two weeks after my first protoform transformation, Bumblebee and I broke the news of our sparkbonding to Optimus first, and then to the rest of the Autobot gang. What came after was a huge alien robot party including Captain Lennox, Sergeant Epps, all the Autobots save for Arcee who was hanging out with Mikaela and Caleb, and even Simmons.
I will for eternity, never think of Ironhide in the same way ever again. Who knew that all it took to make him whipped was a little five year old girl who needed a friend for dress up? I also can never use the word ‘fairy’ in any context ever again while on base or within one hundred feet of Ironhide. It tends to make him just a bit cranky.
To surprise Bumblebee, I went and scanned a Yamaha motorcycle, specifically a FZ6 that had caught his eye when he saw it on the road and picked up his holoform to go and show Optimus. We also told him my new ‘Autobot’ name, Solarspark, which Bumblebee had come up with after one of our slower and gentler rounds of sex. Solar for the sun I had helped to save and spark of course for the one that allowed me to become half Cybertronian.
I think Bumblebee must have done some aggressive persuasion because the only time the Autobots used my new name was during official meetings and other ‘formal occasions’.
Well, except of course for the twins. They were thrilled not to be the ‘youngest’ of the Autobots anymore and made it their duty to tease, harass, and annoy me as much as possible. Now that I had an alt mode, I was officially ‘fair game’. For the first few days after getting my alt mode, I spent most of my time in high speed chases, running away from the twins and eventually learning how to bait them into running into Bumblebee.
After awhile, it really did start to feel like a game instead of a chore or annoyance. It also helped that I got them back more often than they pranked me such as spray painting them both hot pink while they recharged, pouring maple syrup in their interiors which Ratchet refused to fix since they’d locked me in the dumpster the previous day and made me late to my appointment with him, and downloading to their systems a hard to get rid of audio file that continuously played repetitive country songs.
The icing on the cake was how Optimus appeared to suddenly become deaf when the betting pools were discussed by the Autobots on whether me or the twins would come out on top that day.
What I thought would be the hardest part came next; telling my parents that I could turn into a five foot nine inch robot, turn into a motorcycle, and also was now married to my boyfriend in alien robot terms. I was braced for a raving mom swinging a bat at Bumblebee and a dad shaking my shoulders to try and make me see sense.
For once, my avoidance of unwanted events out of my control didn’t hang around the ‘sucks’ area of the rating chart.
Dad was happy since it meant I was moving out for good and would no longer be a threat to his grass. Mom was happy that I was married, even if it was to a male alien robot. Sometimes though my mom happy can be just as scary as mad. She kept going on about me and Bumblebee settling down and starting a family. I don’t think she caught the ‘male alien robot’ part of the equation, but I wasn’t going to be the one to remind her.
As the weeks passed, I tried to spend more and more time shifting to my protoform in an effort to get used to it. Sometimes I’d go for a ride in Bee, just like before my leukemia showed up. Other times, I’d take Bee’s holoform for a spin while in my alt mode and then there were times, rare than the others, where me and Bee would both be in protoform and just walk around the base, holding hands like any other normal couple.
Call me sappy and I’ll squish you, but now that I’m married to my alien robot/guardian car, I don’t think there’s anything that could make us more happy.
Maybe getting a dog, but that’s a decision for another day.
A/N: To clarify, sparkbonding is the robot equivalent of marriage, being an agreement/commitment between Cybertronians to merge sparks and share memories/feelings. Interfacing is just a regular spark merge between two Cybertronians and thus can be forced or be rape in other words. Sparkbonded individuals (it's not limited to just two) do not interface with others while sparkbonded, unless wanting to bring another into the bond, and a sparkbond cannot be forced. Also, if an individual in a sparkbond dies, the others in the bond feel it, but do not die themselves. They can also later on choose a different individual to join in a sparkbond.