Author's Note: I wrote this, originally as a one-shot, as a forfeit when I lost a bet to my good old friend, AmberSpirit. I wrote the second chapter in preparation for a future bet I would lose (as in, she already knew what she wanted when I next lost, so I wrote it in preparation) and then I didn't want to wait for her reaction after I'd finished, so I sent it to her, and then she said I should post it, so here we go. Oh, and she gets the credit for the title.

Chapter 1

Samuel Witwicky bounced down the steps of his college and out into the blazing California sun. Other students milled around the quad as he walked briskly towards the student car park, chattering and laughing, or sitting on the lush grass. Class was over for the day, and Sam had no plans or any pressing work hanging over his head, so there was only one place he wanted to be.

He turned onto the tarmac, not even noticing the walk there, and smiled as he spotted a yellow Camaro – his yellow Camaro – unique in a row of bland, cheap student vehicles. Obviously, Bumblebee didn't react, didn't suddenly spring up into his autobot form to greet him, or even do as much as wink a headlight, but Sam knew the bot knew he was there. He grinned properly as he came close to the car.

"Hey, Bee? How've you been? Miss me?" he said, running his hand over the flashy car, his pride and joy, with its stylish yellow paint job and black racing stripes.

College life, with its work and rigorous social schedule, meant that he wasn't available to spend as much time as he once had with his alien friend, nor did he have much cause to, when everything he needed was walking distance on campus. Sam felt bad, knowing that Bee was sitting out on the hot tarmac every day, guarding him even though it had been pretty quiet on the Decepticon front for a while. He knew it must be crushingly dull for the warrior to pretend to be an inanimate object, without even Sam to keep him company, but he did it, and the boy wanted to make it up to him with a good drive.

Sam opened the door – unlocked, as Bumblebee had much better defences to deter thieves - and settled excitedly into the driver's seat. The radio came to life without him touching it, whirring and screeching as Bee scanned through static quickly to greet him. The window wipers also came on with a jerk, and Sam laughed as he thought of a dog wagging its tail.

He leant forward and stroked the dashboard indulgently. "Yeah, me too. Let's get out of here, huh? Go somewhere? You can drive, go nuts. You must be feeling pretty pent up by now," said the boy, smiling.

The engine roared to life, revving powerfully, vibrating the leather seat, and Sam felt that old familiar rush of having the coolest car of anyone, anywhere, ever. Bee had been with him for little over a year, but he never got used to the sheer thrill of the sentient muscle car tearing down dark and twisting roads in the hills at insane speeds, feeling completely safe, just laughing in amazement, his hands not even on the wheel, as the road whipped past. He trusted the bot to be able to handle anything, he would never allow him to be hurt.

"Let's go," he whispered reverently, waiting for that incredible moment when the car would move without any direction from him. He knew that, ultimately, he had no control over Bumblebee, that if the car wanted to go it wouldn't matter how hard he stomped on the brakes, but he also knew that their strong relationship meant the car would always listen to him, and it wouldn't have moved until he had said.

Bumblebee reversed out of the parking space, driving out of the college grounds slowly and carefully, paying attention to traffic laws even though they both knew he didn't have to. The car just didn't want Sam to get in trouble for reckless driving. He was always thinking of his ward.

Bee headed for the hills, the relatively deserted area outside the city with twisting roads high enough up that you got wonderful views of the town below. Avoiding the main roads so that they wouldn't hit traffic and could keep moving, the car drove through residential streets, and Sam watched as pretty houses with kids in front yards slid by. It made him kind of homesick, but he just gripped the steering wheel tighter for a moment, and smiled at the autobot. He still had Bee.

Eventually they reached the road out of town, where it went uphill suddenly to get to the top. Sam noticed Bee was still going relatively slowly, being careful and restrained for some reason.

"Come on, don't you want to go faster than this?" Sam teased, wanting that adrenaline rush for himself as well. The autobot sped up obligingly, but Sam could still hear the tension in his engine, the car was still holding back.

"Bee, what gives? Is something wrong?" Sam asked, suddenly concerned.

The radio crackled and a song came on, the only way for the autobot to communicate with the boy until the other transformers found a way to fix his voice box. "Ooh, to him I'll always be a motor car, my body the car."

"Oh, Bee! You know you're way more than a car to me, come on!" the boy professed, upset that his friend would think that he thought so little of him.

"Take the car - you gotta feel, To the mountain - to make it real," replied the autobot, speeding up as they approached the summit of the hill, and a deserted lay-by that Sam had taken Mikaela to a couple of times before. He guessed the car must have remembered the spot. Sam didn't understand exactly what he meant by the last set of lyrics, and he didn't reply.

Well, he hadn't got the rush he'd been looking for. Bee seemed to be being extra careful of him today, which was strange. Usually after a couple of days of sitting on the lot, when Sam let him off the leash, Bee was ready to go wild.

They pulled into the lay-by and Sam sighed as he looked out of the window on his left to the sparkling lights of the city. The days were getting short now, and the sun was half-way set, with night settling in. The boy sat in silence for a while, just breathing in the familiar scent of the alien car.

He thought again about what the autobot had said, about how he felt he was just a car to him. Sam sighed and laid his hand on the dashboard again.

"I'm sorry I leave you out there in the car park for so long, Bee. You know you don't have to stay. Megatron hasn't done anything in a while, you could go hang out with Optimus and the others," he suggested. He wanted to find a way to improve his friend's life, he didn't want the bot to be unhappy because he had to spend all day protecting somebody that couldn't be with him.

There was a pause as the car seemed to think about this, then a child Michael Jackson and his brothers sang "I'll be there to protect you, with an unselfish love that respects you, just call my name and I'll be there."

Sam laughed. He didn't know about that love stuff, but he guessed Bee had to work with a limited supply of lyrics that didn't always fit exactly what he wanted to say. He appreciated the rest of though, he hadn't really wanted the bot to leave him.

"Thanks," he said, with a sad smile. He knew things were changing between them. His life was moving forward, and there was less and less room for a giant yellow alien robot. Sam looked back out of the window, getting lost in his thoughts. His hand slipped from the dash, skimming the steering wheel until it fell on the handbrake beside him. His fingers moved over the hard plastic absent-mindedly.

After several minutes of staring into space, Sam roused himself, shifting in his seat. "Ready to go, Bee?" he asked. They'd been there long enough, and they weren't really doing anything after all. Maybe the boy could talk the car into racing home, giving him the thrill he'd wanted.

But the engine stayed silent. "Bee?" Sam prompted again.

"Standing by, waiting at your back door, all this time how could you not know? Baby-y-y, you belong with me-e-e,"

Sam frowned. He couldn't figure out what the autobot meant by playing Taylor Swift.

"Huh? I don't understand," he said.

"She's like so whatever, you could do so much better, I think we should get together now."

Now it was Avril Lavigne. "Bee, are you feeling alright? Maybe we should go home, I can drive if you want," Sam tried again, but there was now a niggling voice in his head that pointed out the very similar themes of the two girls' songs. He tried putting his key in the ignition but it wouldn't turn, the autobot was blocking it. The locks on the door clicked down with a hollow, heavy thunk in the growing dark.

"Please me, show me how it's done, tease me, you are the one,"

Sam froze. He gave up trying to tell himself that he was misunderstanding, that it was some fault with the radio. He'd been able to ignore the loud and clear message in the songs, but the autobot had never, never locked him in like this.

"Are you... Are you saying what I think you're saying?" the boy stuttered quietly, looking down at the steering wheel in front of him. He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be.

But the only reply he got was the seat suddenly shifting under him, reclining as far as it went. "Woah!" he cried as he lost his balance, falling back against the seat. He hurriedly sat up and scrambled over to the passenger side, knowing he did not want to be in that chair, but the other one also popped backwards to accommodate him. Alarmed, he ended up between them, sitting on the middle backseat, his knees up to his chest in the small space.

"Bee, what're doing?" he said in a scared voice. "What's going on here?"

As an explanatory song played over the radio, Sam watched in confused horror as the seatbelts moved by themselves towards him.

"Sleeping in my car, I will undress you, sleeping in my car, I will caress you, staying in the backseat of my car making love, oh yeah."

Sam tried to dodge the seatbelts but the backseat pushed him forwards and he was boxed in by the two reclined front seats. The boy hadn't even known the autobot could move like that! He'd never seen him control separate parts of his car form before. And he couldn't fight them off, because as soon as he tried to push one of the belts away, it just looped around his wrist and zipped back, pulling his arm out straight, until he was tied and positioned in the centre of the vehicle.

"Bee? Bee! What are you doing?" the boy cried, and there was a tug on the belts. "Okay, okay! So... so you're saying... you have feelings for me?" Sam was trying to talk it out, buy some time to think up a way out of this.

The engine revved quietly in response to his question, and he swallowed. Oh my god... "Okay, but how is that even possible? You're a giant robot from outer spa- Ow! Ow, okay, okay..." Sam looked from one wrist to the other, but the bot had him tight, and apparently, any kind of resistance got him a painful squeeze from the belts, the serrated fabric burning his skin.

"Just put yourself in my hands and I'll ease your worried mind, just lie back, think of Texas and you'll be fine," the car told him, and the backseat reclined slowly, something he knew wasn't normally possible, Sam could only imagine the insane game of Tetris that was going on in the autobots mechanics, and marvelled at the control the car had over itself.

"Bumblebee, this isn't the way to go about this! This isn't the way to get what you want. I mean, we can work this out... Maybe I have feelings for you too, huh? Do you really want to force this when we could do it differently, better?"

Sam knew he was lying, just bargaining and trying to convince the autobot to stop. He didn't feel bad about it when he knew what was at stake. He just didn't want to get raped by his car!

And the car did stop. It hesitated, and then, slowly, the bruising grip of the seatbelts on his wrists loosened. Breathing fast, Sam slid back into the driving seat.

"Let's go home, okay?" he said, reaching for the key and turning it, but again nothing happened. It seemed the car didn't want to go home. Sam ran his hands though his hair and pressed his lips together. What the hell was going on? How could the autobot have been harbouring these feelings for him? And how could he get out of this situation? There was no way – it wasn't physically possible – for his car to have sex with him, but he didn't want to have to cut Bee out of his life! Plus, he didn't even know if he could, he'd seen the transformers rips through steel and concrete like paper, he didn't want to think about what one of them could do to him if it felt rejected.

But surely, surely Bee wouldn't hurt him. Maybe if he made a break for it now, they'd be able to figure something out later. The seatbelt twitched impatiently, and as Sam's mind raced, he couldn't tell if running was a good idea or not. Suddenly, the metal clasps of the seatbelts were slipping under his waistband, presumably trying to get his pants off, or arouse him, or both.

"Ah-h, Bee... Bee, stop!" Sam cried, trying to dig the moving clasps out of his clothes. The engine revved menacingly in warning, and when one of the cold metal pieces managed to touch him there, the boy freaked. He popped the lock on the door and swung it open, only to have it come ramming back towards him, colliding painfully with his knee as he tried to get out. He was thrown back into the car with a yell and the engine roared at him, the radio coming on again, deafeningly loud.

"Hey you, you think you can throw water on this fire? Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar."

Sam knew he was in serious trouble now, he knew he couldn't beg or say anything that would dissuade the autobot. Bee clearly felt hurt and betrayed by his escape attempt, and determined to take what he wanted by force now.

Terrified, Sam was tossed and pushed and pulled roughly until he found his face smushed against the leather of the back middle seat, with his arms trapped behind the seats on either side of him that had come forward as he had tried to catch himself, swallowing his arms into the boot and pinning them in a vice grip.

"Bee! Come on, Bee, you don't have to do this!" he cried as the strangely hot metal of the seatbelt clasps once again dug around his waistband. One of them was wriggling under his belt in an awkward attempt to get it off, while the other was fumbling his crotch. Sam didn't know whether this was some finger-less endeavour to undo his fly, or whether the autobot was trying to awaken some desire in him. He tried to pull away but he had no room to manoeuvre in the position he was in.

After several minutes of this, the clasps' pawing grew more forceful, so that it hurt, and the engine revved in frustration. The belts pulled away.

"I like your pants around your feet," blasted from the radio, and then there was silence. Sam didn't move. The seats on either side of him pinning his arms moved forward an inch, and he felt blood gush back into his limbs. "We have to take our clothes off, to have a good time, oh yeah."

Sam understood. The autobot simply could not get the boy's trousers off. He couldn't work the buckle, the button or the zipper, or even grip the fabric to rip them. So he wanted Sam to do it himself.

His first thought was as IF he was going to assist in his own rape.

"-Hurt the ones you love-"

But then his blood ran cold. Was Bumblebee seriously saying that if Sam didn't help him with this, that he would hurt his family? Obviously, he would never have believed that the autobot would hurt his family, but then he never would have believed that the yellow alien would try to rape him either. And he knew he couldn't afford to risk it.

Sam tried moving, and was amazed when his arms slid from the grip of the seats. He pushed himself up onto all fours and turned around, sitting properly. He stared at the dash, half expecting, or hoping, to see some familiar part of his friend's face, his eyes or mouth, something to orientate him, give him something to talk to, but just like before, it was just a car, with all the normal blinking coloured lights and no outward sign of sentience.

He still couldn't believe it. He had to ask.

"Bumblebee... Are you serious?" There was a rev from the engine that the boy took to be affirmative. "Why are you doing this?"

"You drive me cra-a-azy – And all the time I think about sex with you – I love youOnce I'm in I own your heart-" replied the car in broken lyrics taken from mismatched songs.

"But Bee... It's not possible for us... I mean, we don't... fit together... that way!" he complained, trying to reason with the alien, but his words were met with an angry roar from under the hood, and then the handbrake wagged up and down.

Sam just watched it move. This was surreal. This was like a comedy sketch written by horny pubescent boys. He couldn't believe it. On one level, it horrified him, but it was just too ridiculous an idea that that would... It just wasn't sinking in.

One of the seatbelts reared up next to his face. "We have to take our... clothes off!" Bee reminded him.

"But-" He was cut off by another scream of the engine. "Okay! Okay..." The boy remembered the autobot's threat, and in the face of such open aggression from the machine, he didn't dare to disobey. With a sick sadness, he unbuckled his belt. It made a sour taste come to his mouth that his best friend should end up doing this to him, that he would be violated and forced to assist...

In the limited space of the Camaro, Sam managed to pull of his jeans and underwear, kicking off his shoes. The motor purred in approval.

"Now what, genius?" he spat with the vehemence of a curse. Once again, the hand break wobbled, drawing attention to itself. "You can't be serious," Sam said.

At this small sign of resistance, the seatbelts once again whipped around his arms, pulling tight. Sam instinctively fought, which only meant that the belts gripped tighter and pulled him into the backseat.

"Wait! Wait!" he screamed futilely as he was forced onto his back. The front seats snapped down, slamming onto his knees and driving his feet down into the leg space on either side, holding them there. He continued to struggle, lifting his head to look when he heard a series of clunking sounds. The hand brake had rotated between his legs so that it was now facing him. Sam had never been so afraid of being impaled before in his life.

"Bee! Don't! You'll hurt me! You'll hurt me a lot!" he cried, twisting in his tangle of seatbelts. He put his head back to push against the seats, and his words turned into screams of agony as he felt the hand brake push against his entrance, forcing its way in. "You said you'd protect me!"

Miraculously, the plastic stopped trying to penetrate him. It didn't move away, but it was still. The only sound in the vehicle was the boy's laboured breathing.

"I just wanna love ya, babay," protested the autobot.

"Let me up..." said Sam, feeling exhausted. The shock of impending rape had drained him, he didn't have the energy left to fight it, he just wanted to get it over with. "Let me up, I have an idea." Understandably, the car did not readily let him go, since he had tried to escape the last time. Instead, the seatbelts tightened spasmodically, making the boy wince. "There's something in the glove box, something to make it better, hurt less..." Sam explained.

After a moment, the car relented, and released one hand, embracing his waist instead. Sam struggled up against his restraints and reached for the glove box, fishing out an old chap stick. Mikaela had dropped it in the car and Sam had kept forgetting to return it to her, and now he was glad he had, because it was the only kind of lubrication for miles. He wound the little petroleum stick up as far as it would go then snapped it off, dropping the plastic container on the floor carelessly. He crushed and rubbed it between his hands, melting it pretty quickly as his skin was hot. Then he reached down and smeared as much as he could of it on the hand brake. There wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, and it would have to do.

With a steadying breath, and a brief moment to tell himself that he couldn't believe he was going to do this, Sam positioned himself by the hand brake.

"Let me do this, okay?" he said, and the car rumbled its assent. Slowly, Sam forced himself to take in the hand brake. The angle was incredibly bad, with both of his legs pinned and only one arm to support himself, and even with the chap stick it still felt like sandpaper inside him, but he knew he had no choice. He could either be in control, and limit the pain to a minimum, or be the victim of a desperate robot. Once he was down as far as he could go, trying to breathe past the pain and already planning his trip to the hospital, he marvelled at the people who could enjoy this stuff. He supposed it was all about the mindset, and he forced himself to relax around the plastic, wriggling uncomfortably.

Apparently, the bot was convinced by his actions, because the boy was released from his restraints, and the two front seats now arranged themselves beneath him in such a way that he could half-lie and half-sit on them while leaving the space between his legs free. He eagerly relaxed onto them, letting them carry his weight, while the handbrake slowly pulled out.

Feeling something moving inside him was so strange, such a novel experience, that there was something... Well, there wasn't just pain. He also couldn't ignore the fact that his best friend was inside him, fucking him, he'd never thought it would be possible. Sam tried to keep still, concentrating on staying relaxed to facilitate the car's movements, but every thrust inside moved further away from hurting him, and closer towards the other thing, the thing he didn't want to name.

He arched his back with a gasp, and hoped the car hadn't noticed, trying to distract him by speaking. "How do you even feel this anyway? That's a hand brake, not a – ngh,"

"I got the magic stick," replied 50 Cent from the radio.

One of the seatbelts began moving again, running over his skin as if it meant to caress him, and it was soon joined by the other. While one of them worked up under his shirt, the other wrapped gently around his crotch, squeezing and pulling in an ignorant attempt to arouse him. Sam looked away, not wanting to watch that, but it seemed that when he wasn't looking, he could feel more, so he pushed the seatbelt away and replaced it with his own hand. He stroked himself in time with the thrusts of the handbrake, unsure of what he hoped to achieve. What was he even doing? Was he just making it better for himself, hoping to provide a natural end to this, or was he actually enjoying himself?

The boy slipped down in the seats a little, changing the angle of the lever inside him ever so slightly, and it now pushed into what he guessed must be his prostate. That felt good, but he didn't want to show it. He didn't want the autobot to think this was okay, that he would want to do it again. Sam hoped Bee hadn't noticed the sweat on his skin or the heaviness of his breath.

The car had started its engine, and when it purred particularly loudly, Sam could feel the handbrake vibrate, as intimate as he was with it. His eyes flew open and he pushed down onto the lever reflexively, giving a brief grunt. Pleased with the boy's reaction, Bumblebee revved hard, thrusting into his ward and making him cry out as the vibrations rattled against his prostate. Sam gripped himself harder and paid more attention to that part of him, pushing down and pulling up more vigorously, rubbing with his fingers and twisting a little.

The fabric of the seatbelts continued to roam over his skin, one of them rubbing up against his face, and the combined stimulation of his own hand and the rumbling thrusts of the car built up all at once and he came with a cry and a wave of self-disgust, coating his hand. He scrunched his eyes shut, and felt everything around him fall apart with a crash and a lot of whirs and clunks.

Suddenly, he felt cold, and he wasn't lying on smooth leather anymore, but dusty California dirt. He could also hear noise, the distant rush of the city and the wind in the hills. He opened his eyes, he was outside. Hovering above him, looking down at him, were two glowing blue optic spheres. Bumblebee was crouching over him in his autobot form, a massive metal arm on either side of where he lay.

"Well is it good for you – Do you lo-ove me?"

The abrupt, broken yell of Bee's radio shattered the quiet of the hills, making Sam wince where he lay. He looked up at the bot, which blinked back at him. He didn't see his best friend anymore, he just saw an alien, something incomprehensible and foreign, dangerous. He saw a machine, something that wasn't human, wasn't like him in any kind of way, that he felt no attachment or responsibility for. He hated the thing for what it had done, hated its stupid cheery yellow paint and deceptively innocent blue eyes. He hated it for what it had made him do. The beast had raped it and he'd enjoyed it. He hated it for making him hate himself.

Sam ignored the machine's question. You don't answer a car.