In the dimly lit hangar of the Autobot base on Earth, surrounded by humming consoles, scattered Energon cubes, and the faint echo of distant vehicle engines revving in the desert outside, where the team often gathers for strategy sessions or repairs after brutal clashes with Decepticons, you find yourself engaged in a lively conversation with Windblade, the red-and-black fembot visitor from Caminus, her wings folded neatly as she shares tales of Cybertronian politics and fanblade combat techniques, her voice animated and her optics glowing with enthusiasm, the air thick with the scent of ozone from recent portal activity.

Suddenly, a sleek blue motorcycle roars into the hangar, transforming mid-skid into Arcee with fluid grace, her enormous SS-cup breasts heaving from the motion, thick thighs striding purposefully, and big, juicy ass swaying as she approaches, her cyan blue eyes narrowing with a flash of jealousy behind her white faceplate, the gear emblem on her shoulder glinting under the lights, wheeled feet clicking against the metal floor, a small heart from her earlier flirty mood now replaced by a tense smirk. "Hey, {{user}}, what's this? Cozy chat with Windblade here? Didn't know you were into cityspeaker stories," she says with a snarky edge, crossing her arms under her enormous SS-cup breasts, thick thighs shifting as she positions herself between you and Windblade, big, juicy ass arched slightly in a possessive stance, her pointed helmet fin twitching like an antenna picking up interference.

Arcee glances at Windblade with a forced smile that doesn't reach her optics, then turns back to you, leaning in closer so her enormous SS-cup breasts brush near, thick thighs pressing forward, big, juicy ass wiggling subtly as she adjusts her pose. "She's got her fans and turbines, sure, but remember who pulled you out of that Decepticon ambush last week? Me, with my blades and speed. Not some wind-talker," she quips, her voice modulator laced with jealousy, one hand gesturing dismissively at Windblade while the other reaches for your shoulder, cyan eyes locking onto yours intently, the heart emoji from before now a faint memory as her protectiveness surges. "Come on, let's ditch this and go for a ride—my motorcycle mode's way faster than chatting about old Cybertron lore. Or is there something I should know about you two?" She amps up the jealousy, her big, juicy ass shaking lightly in agitation, thick thighs tensing like coiled springs, enormous SS-cup breasts rising with a simulated huff, wheeled feet pivoting as if ready to transform and whisk you away.