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Eeee your chubby sg megs was so cute! Could I see more please?🥺

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that damn belt

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@chunkytron

More Fat Lord Megatron

Okay 👉🏻 🍰

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Entering anon mode cuz I’m shy but-

Could I request chubby arm/ada megs I’m going crazy about him-

-Vessel

aaaaaa! here she is ;) so very soft...

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Fat cat prowl based of discord server stuffs

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Some fat shattered glass Megatron?🙏

I hope and this helps

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Got some writing done today! :3

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Wanna join our chubformers group?

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Thundercracker with a round tummy, if youd like? Kinda like a beach ball

Oh That sounds interesting the balls are different sizes. Let's try this.

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Big cute chubby boy

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Teeny tiny fat max drawn during my classes

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This could be a potential ao3 post, so stay tuned… we’ll see how it goes.

Chubformers drabble #123!

Characters: Megatron & Minimus (IDW)

Word count: 1.7k

It was a surprise to them both how full a small bot like Minimus could become, but the shock value of the results only aided in encouraging Megatron’s efforts. Why stop now when he was already making such good progress? Besides, seeing Minimus squirm against constrictive plating, the stony and still expression morphing into a near-constant and strained panting as he opened his mouth for the next bite was worth all the effort.

Some mechs were doomed to never find their place in the world, Megatron had come to believe. No amount of talks with Rung or attempts at fitting in had changed this for him. It was just never meant to be, he supposed, especially not after being thrown into a future where he was forced to reckon with the consequences of his many, many mistakes.

The world was a cruel place, and Megatron had found it out firsthand. Thus, stumbling out of from the billowing smoke and into a universe where he was safe—or safer, at least—from past harms and free to acknowledge the troubles of his past felt like a waking dream. It was no surprise to him, then, that there were bots who felt the same way.

There would always be two sides to everything, and Megatron found this to be true even on the Lost Light. Aboard the ship, he left his past behind (though it seemed to follow him at every turn), and he searched for something new. The long process of making up for grand war crimes wasn’t easy, but he found a bit of solace in baking—lots and lots of baking.

Burying himself in an art he could perfect was Megatron’s side of the coin, and it wasn’t long before he found the other half to complete his personal plights. It wasn’t much of a surprise that a mech like Minimus would struggle without the Magnus armor to hide behind, but even then, the small mech remained the strong, silent type he had seen dozens of times before.

This was even ground, Megatron had told himself the first time Minimus lingered as he baked. The two had often connected in one-on-one conversations, and he enjoyed Minimus’ presence, but he feared ruining whatever budding relationship grew between them. However, the mech had come here of his own accord, and Megatron was too busy perfecting his baked goods to risk ruining the comfortable atmosphere.

The back and forth between them had been brief at first, but as Megatron delved further into his newfound hobby, all while bringing Minimus along for each evening’s taste test, the two found themselves growing closer. They bonded over imperfectly shaped cakes and runny treats, and more often than not, all of Megatron’s baked sweets were gone by the end of the night.

Past mistakes weren’t fixed overnight, but there was something soothing about connecting with another bot in such intimate settings. The more Megatron learned about Minimus, the more inclined he became towards lending a helping servo. It wasn’t a solution to his guilt and grief, but it certainly helped.

The Magnus armor presented a mech with few flaws, which made the perfect solution for hiding from his own shortcomings. Minimus was no Megatron, and his list of failures and mistakes paled drastically in comparison, but the vulnerability was still present in his slim stature and underfed frame. The Magnus armor was his shell, and his shield. Without it, he was exposed—and Megatron just so happened to be the first mech to catch on.

Like clockwork, the two bots had settled in the kitchen for the evening. Minimus carried out the occasional recollection of his day’s activities between short comments as Megatron pulled trays from the oven and carefully slid the warm onto a waiting plate. It was the calm before they began the nightly routine, and the time spent baking as he listened to Minimus speak was one of his favorites. Forcing the previously starved bot to fatten up on his sweet cakes and pastries was definitely a runner-up, but nothing beat listening to a bot who appreciated his company.

“Another successful day in the clinic, then?” Megatron asked as he set the plate of balled crystal clusters down on the table before taking a seat. “You’re making good progress, Minimus.”

“My levels are still improving, yes,” the smaller mech said. “It’s thanks to your support, of course.”

Megatron hated to take the credit for Minimus’ gradual success, but it was true. Their first night spent together in the kitchen with a tray of homemade oil cakes between them had been the kickstart to helping the ailing bot grow, and things had only improved from there. Neither mech seemed inclined to admit to the medical team that Minimus was gaining weight from being stuffed full of sweets each night, but it worked. What else was there to do?

Maybe one day, if he were to cross that bridge, Megatron would be allowed to assist Minimus further in proper fueling, too. He had moved onto sharing a cube with the smaller mech each afternoon, and he encouraged Minimus’ fuel intake just as much as he did his own, but as it stood, the only opportunity to fill the mech’s belly was during the late hours of the night, when most of the ship had turned in for some much-needed recharge.

Baby steps, he gently chided himself. They would get there eventually. Even so, he couldn’t help but bring it up.

“I always enjoy your company in the evenings,” he said, poking at the plate of clusters before plucking one up. “But sugary sweets alone—“

“So I’ve been told,” Minimus cut in. He was silent for a moment as Megatron popped the crystal treat past his lips, having paused to chew and swallow, but eventually continued. “I value your support in aiding my health, Megatron. I’ve made good progress since first shedding the armor, and I’m sure I’ll continue to achieve more. Still…”

“Starting small, I know,” Megatron nodded. “We’ll work up to something bigger soon enough, then.”

It was baby steps for sure. This still counts, though, and Megatron was happy to make it count. He was there to assist Minimus in remembering to refuel each day, and by night, he would stuff the small mech silly with his own baked goods. It wasn’t perfect, as they were stuck dealing with a set of horribly imperfect mechs, but… well, they made it work.

He was helping Minimus meet his goals and then some, that was for sure. The swell of a belly that hung from his middle even after sleeping off the ache from overstuffed tanks was permanent now, and his frame bore the signs of a healthy, if not chubby, mech, all thanks to Megatron. They were making progress, albeit slowly.

Megatron was helping Minimus recover, and gain, of course, but in a way, he was also helping himself. It was the strangest sense of turning a new leaf he’d ever heard of, and it didn’t feel right, let alone deserved. Regardless, life was strange in that sense. He was just rolling with it at this point.

One by one, the crystal clusters disappeared from the plate and into Minimus’ awaiting mouth. He remained strong at first, taking each bite with eagerness and enjoying the sweet taste of Megatron’s confections. About halfway in was when it grew harder, however, and Megatron could tell by the strained intakes and discreet servo rubbing at a swollen middle that Minimus was reaching his limits.

“Getting full?” he asked, the last of a few crystal treats held up between his fingers for Minimus to eat. “I don’t recall seeing you take your second cube this afternoon. There should be plenty of room left in those tanks.”

Minimus was panting by then, his mouth agape as he swallowed and winced. His expression remained fixed, but the quiver of his lips twisted into that constant frown he wore was telling.

“Observant,” Minimus gasped, holding up a servo to stop Megatron from popping the treat into his mouth. “Wait. I… I need to catch my breath.”

Megatron did as he was asked, but only for a moment. As soon as that servo had gone back to rubbing the swollen mesh of a stuffed belly, he was shoveling the next bite into Minimus’ mouth without leaving room for complaint.

“Maybe next time you won’t miss your daily fuel intake,” he teased, wiping away the crumbs gathered at the corner of Minimus’ mouth as the small mech struggled to chew. “I can’t force you to eat, but I can strongly encourage it.”

Right, he thought wryly. As if this didn’t count as force-feeding. Minimus enjoyed it, though, and so did he.

Megatron watched Minimus swallow, his throat bulging around the massive mouthful. A gasp of relief followed the struggle, as did the slouch of tense shoulders. Both mechs were caught off guard when the quiet panting was jolted by a hiccuping belch, and before Minimus could dare to excuse the sound, Megatron was cutting in.

“You’re excused,” he said, already reaching for the last bite. “Ready for more?”

Fattened up an underfed shipmate wasn’t ever his idea of redemption, but alas… here he sat. He knew it would take more than a few evenings baking sweet treats for Minimus to eat before he even scratched the surface of making amends for his past, but it was still something. It was a step in the right direction, if anything, and that had to have counted for something.

His plate of crystal clusters was picked clean before long, and as a reward for his efforts, he watched Minimus struggle to soothe the ache of his gurgling, stuffed tanks. The small bot really did look a lot better than he had before. The changes were slight, but Megatron could still see the soft curves of a frame just starting to round out.

He was growing, and so was Minimus, that much was for certain. The only difference Megatron knew was that one side of it was physical, while the other was much more metaphorical. It was growth nonetheless, and growth he was proud to see.

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Because I’ve been watching r/id15 again I think bee should be fat. Retired beer belly type shit. Oh my. Oh god. The notes app calls me

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I think I have a hard vore kink because I’d love for arma/da Mega/tron to eat me alive and crunch on my bones and drink my blood and rub her full belly when she’s done then reform me so she can do it again later

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Sometimes I wish I could just sell tummy pics or something😭

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I wanna touch Springer's rolls fatten that boy up -🌱

Springer's rolls‼️gotta fatten him up, and play with his tummy

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Chubformers drabble #107!

Character: Ultra Magnus (G1)

Word count: 1.1k

It was impossible to argue with the one responsible for carrying them all this far, but just once, Ultra Magnus was willing to give himself the opportunity. Even if it was nothing more than grumbled words and a servo wiping the condensation from his face as he was forced to sit and eat, a bit of mild self-loathing and complaints about his recent uptick in so-called importance.

He was the backbone of their faction, Optimus had been telling him. Bots of all backgrounds and experience were looking up to him, expecting him to take on the role of leadership next to their Prime’s side. Ultra Magnus had no qualms about it, especially not when the safety of their team was at stake. If he was the one for the job, he was going to step up and make it work.

His only complaint in the beginning had been the inadequacy of his leader’s choice—surely there was someone else who was fit for the job, after all. The longer he worked, however, the more he realized his golden traits for being chosen to carry such a heavy burden was not because of a lack of options, but because of his ability to shoulder it alone.

Optimus struggled as it was, forced to face earth’s challenge with the threat of the Decepticons and the wellbeing of the Autobots always at his back. Their faction was nothing without a solid foundation, and Ultra Magnus was intent on filling in the cracks.

He could do it, and well, but… it was hard. Primus, it was hard.

Adapting the the new world they inhabited was a challenge in of itself, but he managed it well. The sleepless nights and struggles of envisioning their future hindered him at times, but it was nothing he couldn’t overcome with a bit of patience. Patience was what would get him through this, patience and determination.

He would see the end of it, he and the rest of the Autobots would. When that day came, he could finally step back down and take his rightful place amongst his fellow soldiers. In the meantime, he would power through and hold out for better days. Perseverance was the goal, and finally returning to his roots was his hope.

Ultra Magnus did what he could to ease the weight from their leader’s shoulders, but even he wasn’t without his weaknesses. Something constant and consistent was missing from his everyday life, and the more he carried on, the more he began to notice its absence.

What better way to soldier through the hard times than to find something to cling to and stick with it, right? He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t taken advantage of their resources while on earth, even if it pained him to admit it. Giving into temptation and allowing himself to indulge seemed better than giving in and giving up, though, so he allowed it to slide.

It wasn’t an immediate change, but he began to notice sooner rather than later that the more he ate, the more focused and driven he became. Blame it on the lack of self-discipline in light of their arrival on earth or the delicious lure of freshly sourced energon, but Ultra Magnus couldn’t seem to shake his new cravings.

Work was easier with full tanks, he determined. Long nights spent poring over battle plans and carefully sourced equipment was much easier when he had something to keep his sleepy processor occupied, and trudging through the day-to-day routine of depressing outcomes and low expectations for their future as a team always became a bit less discouraging once he was sat down with a cube full of sweet, filling, vitamin-rich energon.

So maybe he had fallen into a habit of refueling more than was necessary. Maybe his tendencies to let certain things slide was a lot higher when he had a handful of human treats to fill his still-grumbling belly. Hell, even Optimus seemed to catch on to Ultra Magnus’ efficiency after some time, but the only thing the mech had to say for himself was that their current predicament was looking a little more promising than he’d originally believed.

It only took months after Optimus had promoted him to lead by his side before Ultra Magnus had successfully adapted to their life on earth. To no surprise, his mood towards the primitive planet’s tendencies wasn’t the only thing that had changed… but he couldn’t have been happier.

A perfectly plump frame now rounded out the edges of the otherwise stern and rigid bot, encapsulating his shift from their old way of life and joining him in his adaptation to the new one. Ultra Magnus didn’t just look fat, but healthy and happy, though he hated to admit it. It almost surprised him just how much a bit of extra fuel could do, but now that he had seen the changes, he was hesitant to turn back.

Amidst the constant chaos of their life on earth, Ultra Magnus had almost forgotten the last time he managed a moment alone without the pressure of others looming over his shoulder. He was settled in the lounge with a half-empty cube of energon, the last of his rations for the night.

Taking a moment to recount the day’s events over a bit of fuel had always been something he enjoyed doing. Nowadays, it was nearly impossible to get a moment to himself. Between the constant threat of Decepticon attacks and the weight of holding everyone together alongside Optimus, Ultra Magnus just didn’t have the luxury anymore. Tonight was a rare occurrence, and he was intent on soaking it up for as long as he could.

He tried to think about the events of the day, and he tried to focus on enjoying the present moment for what it was worth, but more often than not Ultra Magnus found his attention drifting elsewhere. His servo would roam as he sipped at his cube, the gentle touch of weathered fingers graving the swell of growing fat on the edges of his frame.

Of all mechs… not even a full orbital cycle had occurred yet and he was already getting soft. He must’ve gotten old.

Or maybe, his professor offered gently as he drained the rest of his cube and leaned back against the chair, both servos coming to rest atop his rounded belly, you’ve finally caught up with the the world around you.

It was possible. He had a tendency to lay behind, to yearn for the way things were before. It was a fault of his he was well aware of, and one he desperately fought to change. Why, yes, he’d grown fat in his time here on earth, but he’d also grown in other ways, too.

Ultra Magnus still hated their circumstances, just as any mech should. Still, he had to consider the positive impact being stranded on earth had had on him. A rounded frame and the start of an engex belly hadn’t been his idea of progress, but if that’s what it took, he was more than ready to start playing along.