#sg!Slingarm always repairs his patients but also seeks to ‘improve’ them

[dimorphodon-x]

By all accounts, Starhawk should’ve been dead. If not by the shot he sustained to his spark, then by his masters’ blades for being such a disgrace.

Yet here he was, spark still spinning and fuel pump pumping. But he wasn’t back on his feet yet.

The young jet grimaced, his jaw clenching as a wave of pain washed over him. He cautiously squinted one eye open and stared up at the bright overhead light. He could hear medical instruments beeping, see the glow of their screens at his peripheral. Wires and cords seemed to be connected to various parts of his frame, though he was unable to lift his head to see for certain.

“Stay still,” the gruff voice of his medic growled at him. The green and beige mech soon came into view. His front and arms were coated in blue energon, both old and fresh, all of it possibly Hawk’s, “I’ve put enough work into keeping you alive, I don’t need you damaging anything.”

Starhawk opened his mouth to speak, but words weren’t coming to him. Slingarm shushed him again.

“No talking either. You won’t be up long, I promise,” it was then that Hawk realized that his own chassis was still wide open as the doctor shoved his hands back into his exposed gears. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he dug his claws into the medical berth.

“So dramatic,” Slingarm grunted as something snapped in his hands. The pain almost made the flier’s eyes water, “just a minute….”

Hawk’s fangs made an audible clack as he snapped his jaws shut. At least Slingarm kept his promise, as he passed out a minute later.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his systems onlined again, starting with his vision. Now his berth had been tilted so that he was upright. There was no blinding light in his face and he wasn’t hooked up to whatever medical equipment, and there were no green greasy fingers pulling at his innards.

He spotted Slingarm’s cat resting on his desk and shot the old mecha-feline a glare, “your master is honestly the worst medic.”

Gigus just tucked his paws under his chest and relaxed his green eyes. Stupid vermin…

Deciding he’d had enough standing around (and honestly wanting nothing more to do with the medic), Starhawk stepped forward, though his legs felt weak. The rest of his systems burst to life and he collapsed onto his knees. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He gasped and arched his back, his crest almost touching the floor. It was like there was something inside of him, twisting, writhing, struggling to drill its way out of his frame. The horrid sensation made him want to purge his tanks.

“So dramatic…” Slingarm tsked. Had he always been standing there? He hadn’t noticed him in the room at all.

“What-did you-hrrk! Do to me?!” Starhawk dry heaved again, nothing coming up despite how hard his tanks tried to empty themselves. It was as if they were already empty.

“I just saved your life!” He held his hands up innocently, but his wicked smile widened, “and I’ve taken the liberty of making a few… improvements…”

The twisting sensation finally relieved itself as Hawk’s t-cog whirled unnaturally and his frame jerked. He gagged, feeling extensions of himself bursting from his back and sides, writhing around him like worms. His armor felt both so hollow and too tight.

He wanted to scream. Scraping at the floor, he pictured tearing into Slingarm’s chest, ripping his wires out and splitting his spark chamber open. Drool dripped from his fangs at the image in his struggling mind.

It was then that he realized just how hungry he was…