Transformers Fan Fiction ❯ Wash Me, Sam, I Was A Dirty Autobot ❯ WMSIWADA ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: abraxas_ren 
n/a
Non Anime: Transformers Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.24.2009 | Updated On: 07.24.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 992 | Visits: 2.1K | Status: Completed
n/a
Non Anime: Transformers Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.24.2009 | Updated On: 07.24.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 992 | Visits: 2.1K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
“Wash Me, Sam, I Was A Dirty Autobot!” by Abraxas (2009-07-24)
It was that time, again, their time!
Towels were laundered. Soaps were selected. The hoses and buckets were prepared. And, the best part of that day’s activity, the parents were away.
That particular treat was rare indeed and they could not wait to take advantage of it.
Sam set the pail against a wall - he turned the spigot and filled it with a stream of water.
Bumblebee watched with glowing blue eyes. He was getting more and more excited by the minute. The human was going to enjoy the surprise that awaited – the autobot had been working on a new vehicular accessory and it was time to display it. It was impossible to be still while thinking of the attention it was about to receive yet someway, somehow, he did not budge. Rather, he let the radio express the anticipation with a frenzy of songs.
Sam dropped the bucket next to a drain.
Bumblebee followed the sight from the water to the boy – the autobot’s eyes brightened.
Usually the act was performed at the driveway. But when they were alone it shifted into the garage. Alone and out of sight the ritual could be expressed without judgment.
“Wash me!” the machine blurted through static.
“Oh,” the teen teased, wickedly, “were you a dirty autobot?”
“Yes – wash me, please – Sam!”
Sam leaned into Bumblebee’s face.
“I’ll make you pretty, all shiny and new, my sweet sweet Camaro!”
Sam rubbed the towel against Bumblebee’s head. Water dripped onto the floor and collected into a drain. With smooth, concentric circles, winding out of the eyes toward the edges of the face, the boy coated the autobot with soap. Rubbing. Buffing. Poking. Attention was paid to each and every detail.
The soundtrack of Ghost played while eyes watched hands at work. From shoulders to wrists, the teen applied a towel, scrubbed and cleaned, and washed the machine. The autobot was fascinated by the difference between metal and flesh. The difference with size. The boy’s tiny fragile stature invoked a flood of protective and tender feelings.
Despite their grossly mismatched features, with Sam Bumblebee’s show of toughness melted into the nakedness of a kitten. That tenderness and the vulnerability it exposed grew out of friendship and devotion and love. Yes, they were each other’s world entirely.
Another towel. Another bucket of water.
Sam washed the chest and, by accident, noted a change. Although it was obvious it did not seem to be important. Autobots adjusted their anatomies – transformed, as it were – he thought it was just another detail and failed to realize its significance. That was until he reached the waist and discovered that alteration was very, very different.
It was a disk, wide and thick, with circular yellow and black stripes. It was not solid; instead it composed of rings packed together tightly.
Bumblebee watched as the teen explored that feature of his anatomy.
The rings swelled and by fractions of inches expanded telescopically.
Sam smiled at Bumblebee.
He decided that feature demanded a lot of attention. He leaned into it, while supported between the autobot’s legs, and hovered face to face with it. He rubbed the towel along its length as it grew and sent shivers up and down the machine. Eventually the linen dropped and it was only his hands that spread the soap. Under the lather of his fingers it attained the shape of a narrow, long cone thick at the base, sharp at the tip.
At the peak was a swollen patch of leather – its fabric oozed oil.
“So perfect! So beautiful!” he gushed while rinsing off the soap. By the way the autobot shifted position and gazed the boy knew his friend was simply beyond excited. The appendage proved to be yet another signal of pleasure – especially the way it twitched out of his grip.
Sam brought the tip into his mouth a few inches then slowly – teasingly – bobbed up and down. Then withdrew it just as slowly. Sucking the tip of it as it passed his lips.
Bumblebee revved and shivered and pounded the floor.
To Sam it was as if Bumblebee was concentrated there and he was giving love to all of the autobot. The machine was so huge he could not possibly grasp him with a hug and press him, fully, body against body. With that appendage he found a substitute that could be smothered, completely, with that affection he wished he were able to give his friend. To kiss everywhere. To squeeze everything. And to feel the pleasure course through his body.
“Bee?” he asked with lips smeared by oil and other automotive fluids. “What is it, Bee? Was I too rought?”
“Parents! Coming….” he gasped – shivering from head to toe – while the appendage contracted and expanded, firing like a canon a wad of oil.
Sam spit and wiped his face with a towel – the juice, it would not come off his clothes – and his hands looked like they had been working with engines a whole entire month. Bumblebee, however, looked shiny and new and he smiled. The teen watched the autobot transformation into a Camaro and leave a very large and growing slick under it.
“Damn it, wow, that was close!” he said, breathless, as the garage flap raised.
(875)
“Wash Me, Sam, I Was A Dirty Autobot!” by Abraxas (2009-07-24)
It was that time, again, their time!
Towels were laundered. Soaps were selected. The hoses and buckets were prepared. And, the best part of that day’s activity, the parents were away.
That particular treat was rare indeed and they could not wait to take advantage of it.
Sam set the pail against a wall - he turned the spigot and filled it with a stream of water.
Bumblebee watched with glowing blue eyes. He was getting more and more excited by the minute. The human was going to enjoy the surprise that awaited – the autobot had been working on a new vehicular accessory and it was time to display it. It was impossible to be still while thinking of the attention it was about to receive yet someway, somehow, he did not budge. Rather, he let the radio express the anticipation with a frenzy of songs.
Sam dropped the bucket next to a drain.
Bumblebee followed the sight from the water to the boy – the autobot’s eyes brightened.
Usually the act was performed at the driveway. But when they were alone it shifted into the garage. Alone and out of sight the ritual could be expressed without judgment.
“Wash me!” the machine blurted through static.
“Oh,” the teen teased, wickedly, “were you a dirty autobot?”
“Yes – wash me, please – Sam!”
Sam leaned into Bumblebee’s face.
“I’ll make you pretty, all shiny and new, my sweet sweet Camaro!”
Sam rubbed the towel against Bumblebee’s head. Water dripped onto the floor and collected into a drain. With smooth, concentric circles, winding out of the eyes toward the edges of the face, the boy coated the autobot with soap. Rubbing. Buffing. Poking. Attention was paid to each and every detail.
The soundtrack of Ghost played while eyes watched hands at work. From shoulders to wrists, the teen applied a towel, scrubbed and cleaned, and washed the machine. The autobot was fascinated by the difference between metal and flesh. The difference with size. The boy’s tiny fragile stature invoked a flood of protective and tender feelings.
Despite their grossly mismatched features, with Sam Bumblebee’s show of toughness melted into the nakedness of a kitten. That tenderness and the vulnerability it exposed grew out of friendship and devotion and love. Yes, they were each other’s world entirely.
Another towel. Another bucket of water.
Sam washed the chest and, by accident, noted a change. Although it was obvious it did not seem to be important. Autobots adjusted their anatomies – transformed, as it were – he thought it was just another detail and failed to realize its significance. That was until he reached the waist and discovered that alteration was very, very different.
It was a disk, wide and thick, with circular yellow and black stripes. It was not solid; instead it composed of rings packed together tightly.
Bumblebee watched as the teen explored that feature of his anatomy.
The rings swelled and by fractions of inches expanded telescopically.
Sam smiled at Bumblebee.
He decided that feature demanded a lot of attention. He leaned into it, while supported between the autobot’s legs, and hovered face to face with it. He rubbed the towel along its length as it grew and sent shivers up and down the machine. Eventually the linen dropped and it was only his hands that spread the soap. Under the lather of his fingers it attained the shape of a narrow, long cone thick at the base, sharp at the tip.
At the peak was a swollen patch of leather – its fabric oozed oil.
“So perfect! So beautiful!” he gushed while rinsing off the soap. By the way the autobot shifted position and gazed the boy knew his friend was simply beyond excited. The appendage proved to be yet another signal of pleasure – especially the way it twitched out of his grip.
Sam brought the tip into his mouth a few inches then slowly – teasingly – bobbed up and down. Then withdrew it just as slowly. Sucking the tip of it as it passed his lips.
Bumblebee revved and shivered and pounded the floor.
To Sam it was as if Bumblebee was concentrated there and he was giving love to all of the autobot. The machine was so huge he could not possibly grasp him with a hug and press him, fully, body against body. With that appendage he found a substitute that could be smothered, completely, with that affection he wished he were able to give his friend. To kiss everywhere. To squeeze everything. And to feel the pleasure course through his body.
“Bee?” he asked with lips smeared by oil and other automotive fluids. “What is it, Bee? Was I too rought?”
“Parents! Coming….” he gasped – shivering from head to toe – while the appendage contracted and expanded, firing like a canon a wad of oil.
Sam spit and wiped his face with a towel – the juice, it would not come off his clothes – and his hands looked like they had been working with engines a whole entire month. Bumblebee, however, looked shiny and new and he smiled. The teen watched the autobot transformation into a Camaro and leave a very large and growing slick under it.
“Damn it, wow, that was close!” he said, breathless, as the garage flap raised.
(875)