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.

"Beeotch 9000" by Abraxas 2009-08-27

Sam really really hated to do it. He felt so dirty and awful even to think of it. Bumblebee was his dearest, closest, bestest friend and it felt like a violation. But such was the power of curiosity to impel the boy to snoop about the robot's stash of stuff.

When, exactly, it started he could not say. Why it happened was as mysterious as the workings of the mind itself. It could not be denied, however, it was happening - Bumblebee was keeping a secret! A jealously even insanely guarded secret.

Sam did not know why but his gut said the internet was to blame - the autobots were just too savvy with it - god only knew what they could have stumbled into.

The activity, whatever it was, must have been a secret a long, long time and only gradually gained momentum as Bumblebee got comfortable living with Sam. The boy did not really notice something was a miss until a series of envelopes were delivered to the house from Japan - packages addressed to the robot.

"B. Witwicky, huh?" Sam asked with a smile as he gave the envelope to the machine.

Bumblebee patted the human's head - then put away the package.

"You are part of the family," Sam announced.

"You, too, are part of the family," Bumblebee replied.

That summer a parcel arrived to 'B. Witwicky' regularly, week after week. Sam always took it and gave it to Bumblebee without investigating what it was. The robot, too, did not peek into it.

The envelopes were filed away. Never to be seen. At least not while anyone was looking.

There were a few occasions, though, when Sam stole a few glimpses. When he entered the garage, unannounced, and caught Bumblebee stuffing it almost like a kid hiding a magazine away from the eyes of a parent. Or when they were watching a movie together - Bumblebee sipping a bottle of oil, Sam sitting atop his lap with a tub of popcorn - he dozed then awoke to see his friend flipping through the contents of that day's delivery. Or when he opened the glovebox and found a slew of magazines - his friend swerved to distract his attention - then the evidence was gone.

What could it be?

The autobots were way too reliant on the internet which they seemed to be plugged into continuously. Clearly - although he could not understand the logistics of it - they were able to buy items off the web. And if they learned that habit then what other activities were they capable of? Downloading? Chatting?

A giant alien robot...what was Bumblebee doing hoarding and hiding that stuff from Japan?

Was Optimus Prime OK with it?

Impossible - the stash was kept inside of the garage to be hidden.

That night Bumblebee was called away by the autobots and Sam took that opportunity to investigate. Looking about with a flashlight. Pretending himself to be a robot and wondering where he would be hiding stuff. It did not take long to discern the location of the secret - an alcove above the ceiling accessible only at farthest end of the garage.

It was manga but by the looks of it not official manga. Sam heard of manga drawn by fan-artists - and by the 'B. Witwicky's drawn about the cover it seemed the articles were commissioned by Bumblebee. Gods, it blew his mind that his friend would have known to do that.

And then the boy opened the manga. It was the final shock of the night. His hands trembled at the realization of it. His shock almost dropped the book. Fled were all rational notions of what autobots did with their downtime.

OMG was the look splattered across his face!

The volume was used the characters of Inuyasha. There were pages and pages of Inuyasha and Koga. Miroku and Koga. Sesshoumaru and Koga. But it was not just the focus on Koga that raised a concern. No. No. It was what the boys were up to.

He flipped to the center and unfolded the art. It was like finding the tenth level of hell - because by then it was so obvious what the manga was about. The boys were playing with machines - inserting humming appliances, locking themselves within weird robotic sex-boxes, grinding into tailpipes and bending over engines...and the centerpiece was a picture of Koga squatting atop a long, yellow and black striped vibrator with bee-like wings, labeled 'Beeotch 9000'.

Sam shut the book and looked at his fingers - they were smeared with oil.

Bumblebee was nursing a fetish about boys doing it with machines!

Oh, by the gods - where exactly was it going to lead?

END