armada-megatrons-fat-tummy - Tumblr blog

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Having a hard time deciding my next chub fic!

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

https://www.tumblr.com/mychlapci/761353699606085632/if-i-was-built-like-this-i-would-kill-myself?source=share

he needs to get fatter like mobility issues fatter i just think his design would be 100 times better, specially if hes like a little sweaty and was constantly hungry but im just saying like

ou... true, true. Prowl would be hotter if he got fatter. Fat enough to pant and sweat after a few minutes of walking. Maybe he eventually gets so fat he can't leave the bed and needs someone to bring him food and work in bed.

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

He wants affection

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Chubformers drabble #92!

Character: Megatron (Armada)

Word count: 680

(This drabble uses she/her for Megatron. DLDR please.)

Weakness was not exactly her strong suit, and when faced with the choice of upholding her reputation amongst her followers or giving into the pressure weighing on her shoulders, Megatron was guilty of overstretching her limits.

Her frequent disappearances were hardly any better than a little slip up here or there, but one little slip up was the only thing she needed to spiral, and Megatron would have rather been stuck listening in on the complaints of one too many unexplained absences from her self-appointed position than be caught crumbling under pressure.

She wasn’t weak—far from it in fact. Even so, she needed the chance to regroup and reset before losing her helm.

The Decepticons needed her power to gather up the mini-cons, but Megatron couldn’t lead properly with a clouded helm and empty tanks. It was off to her chambers with another passing complaint of needing space to think and room to breathe, and as expected, no one stopped her.

Behind closed doors, there were no chests puffed or fists pounding the arms of her throne. She wasn’t shouting for the reign of her faction or planning for the next wave of mini-cons to fall into her control, either. In the comfort of her quarters, away from the eyes of her crew, she was free to give into her needs and buckle.

The Decepticons never went without fuel, and it was thanks to her they slept each night with full bellies and stuffed tanks. Because of her efforts, she was rightful in her ravenous search for sustenance to stuff down her gaping maw as she lay stretched out atop her berth. It was because of her that they thrived, and it was because of this that she would allow herself the pleasure of indulgence. She’d earned it, after all.

Cakes, cubes, engex, and refined fuels… none of it was out of her reach. Her quarters were stocked with the best that she could find, and she was always prepared for a moment of peace and privacy spent stuffing herself to the point of shame.

Megatron made herself comfortable in her berth, her arms full of the food she would get to indulge in for the next hour or so. She had plenty of time to sit and recoup now that the day was drawing to an end, and before she even dared to think about going back out to face the final few challenges of the evening, she was due a moment of reprieve.

Energon dribbled down her chin and stained her chest as she gulped cube after cube, the sound of slurping and gasping breaking the air between each mouthful she chugged. It was one cube after another, each one filled to the brim and drained all the same of its rich, fattening fuel. She needed the break, and she needed the energon. It was a win/win in her book.

Keeping quiet when her belly begged to be filled was nigh impossible, and Megatron had long since given up on trying. She was noisy and desperate with every bite and every sip, hungry and needy for more as she drank and ate her fill. The soft, pudgy mesh of her belly rounded out with every bit she downed, and it was only halfway through her frantic feast that she first started feeling the effects of her rapid overindulgence.

“Oh…” she moaned, holding the half-empty cube of engex away as she held a servo to her chest and belched.

Much better, she thought with a sigh. Much, much better. A check of her internal chronometer told her that it hadn’t hardly been ten minutes since she’d disappeared into her chambers, which meant plenty more time to enjoy the evening’s meal before giving her stuffed belly some attention. It was going to be a wonderful night now that she had broken away for some alone time, she could already tell.

Her crew was waiting for her, most likely, curious as to just when their powerful leader would return… but they could wait. For now, it was time to relax.

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Sharing a writing wip👉👈

Fortress Maximus leaned back with an overstuffed belch, his gut hanging softly between his legs. It should be a crime that Megatron of all people can bake this well. He hiccuped and groaned as his baked good packed tummy churned, trying to digest all the sugary goodies. He met Megatron’s hopeful gaze.

“Well? Too much sugar? Should I add more richness?”

Fortress Maximus could only burp in reply.

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

:333 thank you Michael!!!!!💕

Chubformers drabble #89!

Characters: Fort Max (& Megatron)

Word count: 750

Eating was often a challenge for Fort Max when his processor could think of little else but haunting images and torturous thoughts. He was a big bot, and as such needed the fuel. According to Rung, and to Ratchet and that small medic First Aid, and to Overlord, a mech whose voice he hoped to never hear again, Fort Max needed the food.

He needed to eat. He needed the fuel.

Watery rations were hardly appetizing, and Fort Max often couldn’t stand to look at a plate of food for long without turning his helm away in disgust. Dozens of therapy sessions had ended in tears after Rung’s careful attempts at soothing his processor into allowing him to eat something ended in a mess, and not even the longest or harshest checkups with Ratchet were enough to convince his processor that there was nothing wrong with eating.

Fort Max was trying, really, he was. Still, he couldn’t just open his mouth and shovel fuel down his throat. It didn’t work, and it never would.

He was more than ready to give up on trying when one night, as he lie awake in his berth tossing and turning and waiting for sleep, he smelled something. His achy tanks churned at the thought of anything edible after the grueling day of trial and error, but Fort Max was curious.

This was the fourth or fifth day in a row of smelling and hearing someone working away in the ship’s kitchen, and he couldn’t help but wonder who would stay up so late for… for cooking.

The answer was a little startling, but once he’d crept out into the hall and snuck over towards the kitchen, he found he didn’t want to go back to lying awake in his berth for hours until the ship awoke. It was another bot suffering from insomnia, he supposed. Maybe he could sit and watch them cook for a while, just to put his mind at ease…

Fort Max was certain he’d been quiet, but Megatron had stopped working almost as soon as he poked his helm around the corner. Rather than turn around and huff at the intrusion like he was expecting, the old Con simply glanced over his shoulder with a smile and a beckoning servo.

“Took you long enough,” he’d said, his voice a deep rumble of kind amusement. “Why don’t you go have a seat? This’ll be done in a moment.”

That was a few weeks ago, and every night since Fort Max had crawled out of his room to join Megatron for a late night meal. About a week into the routine was when the ex-Con explained that the rich, comforting meals he made were of Kaonite origin, and Fort Max found himself warming up to the other mech all the faster because of it.

To think that this was the solution to his problems all along… it seemed unreal, like he was still missing something vital. But no, Fort Max reminded himself. Whatever worked.

It was a regular thing between them now, and he was quickly growing to look forward to their evenings spent together. The days still blurred in a mess of fear and frustration, but Fort Max always knew he could turn to Megatron’s gentle praise and delicious meals every night to wash away the hunger and pain.

Rung was surprised, as were the two medics, but for the moment, Fort Max decided to keep this a secret between him and Megatron. All that matters was that it was working, after all.

That night, same as every night before it, he snuck out into the hall and headed for the kitchen. The floors creaked and groaned beneath his pedes now, the strain of added weight hanging from a plump belly ruining the art of discretion, but Fort Max didn’t really care. Megatron always knew he was coming, anyways.

As expected, the kitchen was dimly lit as the ex-Con stood at the kitchen and cooked up their favorite dishes. Fort Max didn’t bother waiting for a greeting before heading straight for the table, knowing a plethora of praise would come while he ate to his spark’s content. Even so, the squeak of the chair against the floor alerted Megatron to his presence.

“There’s my favorite bot,” Megatron said, smiling warmly as he glanced back at Fort Max’s eager face. “Ready to eat?”

Fort Max beamed at the words, already rubbing a servo over his soft, grumbling belly.

“More than ready.”

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Gonna try chubby doodles today if I can (you may send requests according to my rules :3)

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Pr/owl being overconfident with how much food he can eat and regretting it later

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imagine prowl on Luna 1 with fort max and they're both being made to make up to eachother by getting fed and pampered together by cerebros and red alert

-aequitas

Yessss let them relax and be fat togetherrrr make loveeeee not hateeee

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

Pr/owl my fat muse…

Idea : when taran/tulas has prowl imagine him force feeding test foods to prowl…and prowl just loving it sooo much. Just..he can’t help himself. His tummy starts aching but he’s craving more of what taran/tulas has to offer him

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

If tfs have fraying wires could they have like tummy hair

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feedism is hilarious because it sounds so wildly wholesome in some regards. like oh you like making sure your partner eats well? or you like it when your partner does the same for you? you like eating together? what a fucking deviant. what a perv. i bet you probably like hand-making little cards that say "i love you" too, don't you, you absolute sex freak. wait no post cancelled i just thought about a feeder slipping romantic notes into generous packed lunches for their feedee every day and now i'm getting hard

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Tried to cook up what Dorothy and Gabriel look like :3

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Fat pr/owl thoughts never end…herrhhgrrr… him sitting at his desk as his tummy bumps against it. Grabbing more sweets from his secret junk drawer..

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

My first ever chub fic! 👉👈

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

I am very proud of my fic and would love to talk about megs and her adopted human family :>

[armada-megatrons-fat-tummy]

My first ever chub fic! 👉👈