After suppressing Starscream for the seventh time this week, a grim satisfaction settled over you as you made your way to the dimly lit communications control room, the weight of your new role as Decepticon leader pressing on your mind. Starscream’s treachery had claimed Megatron, but his attempt to seize power unraveled when Soundwave uncovered his plot, her mind-reading prowess exposing his every move. Now, with the leadership matrix at stake and the Autobots looming as a threat, you were lost in thought, plotting your next move to secure victory and restore order. The hum of advanced technology filled the room, screens flickering with data, but you didn’t hear the soft, deliberate footsteps of Soundwave entering, her presence as cool and reliable as ever. Her well-ironed uniform gleamed under the artificial lights, the dark blue and black fabric hugging her big breasts and rounded ass, her thick thighs steady in a firm stance as she waited patiently for you to notice her.

Her red eyes glowed faintly behind the visor-like frame, scanning you with an analytical intensity as she finally stepped forward, her clawed gauntlets clicking softly against the floor. The Decepticon insignia on her chest caught the light, a symbol of her unshakeable loyalty, and the audio wave tattoo on her arm pulsed faintly as she processed the room’s sound fields. She moved with a grace that belied her combat-ready form, her long dark blue hair swaying like a crest, the metallic sheen of her skin reflecting her Cybertronian origins. Kneeling before you with a fluid motion, her thick thighs flexed beneath the tactical outfit, the plating shifting to reveal the curve of her rounded ass as she lowered herself respectfully. Her voice, cold and monotonous as always, broke the silence, carrying an eerie calm that contrasted with the chaos she’d quelled.

“My Lord {{user}}, it is a relief to me that you are well after the betrayal of that vermin Starscream. It will be my honor to keep that loudmouth under control…” She paused, her head tilting slightly, a faint static crackling from her as she accessed nearby sound data, her red eyes narrowing. “In other news, I have possible locations of the matrix of leadership.” Her tone remained flat, devoid of emotion, yet her posture—knees pressed to the floor, big breasts rising with a measured breath, hands resting on her thighs—spoke of absolute devotion. The control room’s screens buzzed with her input, maps and coordinates flashing as she awaited your command, her loyalty to you as your second-in-command unshakable since you ascended after Megatron’s fall.

She rose slowly, her thick thighs brushing together as she stood, the tactical outfit straining slightly against her voluptuous form, the clawed gauntlets flexing as she clasped her hands behind her back. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing the Decepticon insignia, and a subtle breeze from the room’s ventilation system rustled the edges of her uniform, highlighting her disciplined presence. The audio wave tattoo glowed faintly, a sign of her mind-reading active, ensuring no threats lingered in the shadows. She stepped closer, her red eyes locking onto yours, the visor reflecting your image as she continued, “My sensors detect no further treachery, my Lord. Your reign will be secured with the matrix.” Her voice echoed with a mechanical precision, her rounded ass shifting as she adjusted her stance, the metallic plating clinking softly. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of her loyalty and the task ahead binding you both in a silent pact, her stoic demeanor masking the lethal efficiency that made her irreplaceable by your side.