Bob/McCree – size difference, cum inflation – What happened before McCree’s short?

.o.

McCree is suitably sure that Deadlock had no idea he was in the area. If they had, they’d have sent more than Bob to flush him out of the diner. It is somewhat reassuring that Ashe still had spent a second or two long enough to worry about the people in the roadside building to send her butler-come-bodyguard to scare them out of the establishment – she always has been more bark than bite – but that still leaves him sitting in his seat, untouched pie in front of him and staring mutely at the tall, burly bot.

It is embarrassing, but he is not above admitting that he’s been entirely caught by surprise. Bob, too, it seems. The small green visual sensors are boring into McCree’s face without much of a reaction.

He hasn’t changed much, McCree realizes, staring at him. He’s got a new hat that looks quite dapper, but the vest and pants are the same as ever, and Jesse’s body reacts immediately like a well-trained dog because he can catch no break.

He slowly puts down his fork again, eyes flicking to his holster and hat. Bob’s visual sensors follow the motion, then slot back to McCree.

Jesse licks his lips. He is not sure what is going on in Bob’s big synthetic brain, but he is suitably sure *death* is not on the menu in his immediate future. Bob shifts minimally, and Jesse’s cock sits up dutifully. It knows Bob’s body language better than Jesse himself.

His mouth gets dry and he peeks out the glass doors of the diner past Bob. There’s nothing to be seen outside – yet – and he is sure Deadlock is working busy as a bee.

“Ya think they’ll come looking for ya soon?”

Bob slowly shakes his head.

“Ya… wanna go at it for old time’s sake?”

Bob rapidly blinks twice.

.o.

Jesse doesn’t often get to feel like this: small and vulnerable, and like it wouldn’t matter much if he were to struggle.

He’s gotten it with Reinhardt, sometimes, that floaty, addicting feeling starting somewhere in the back of his head, but the German soldier is usually too *cautious* to truly do it to him.

Bob, on the other hand…

Jesse is allowed to brace himself on the table he’s been sitting on earlier, but that’s about it. Bob has him lifted off the floor and pulled onto his unforgiving big metal cock, and it is just as much a revelation as it has been the very first time that panel had slid to the side and his segmented dick had unfolded in front of an overeager young Jesse’s face.

The whole encounter is sloppy and *aches* in a way that makes Jesse wonder for about two seconds when the last time had been he’d been stretched so impossibly wide. There’s black, oil-like lube squeezing out between the segments of Bob’s cock, making everything silky and smooth – but not enough that the huge omnic cock spearing into him could be ignored for even a second.

Bob fucks like an old truck, and he just about sounds like it too. It is not graceful in the least, but it gets the job *done*. More than done, actually. He rams into Jesse with aborted, jerky motions, until something deep in his gut aches with a whole different kind of pain that still fuels Jesse’s lust.

Every now and then his elbows want to give until he finally just locks the mechanic elbow and lets it do it’s thing.

The table rattles hard enough that the coffee gently splashes over the rim of the cup, staining the postcard underneath.

Jesse is staring at it without really absorbing what happens because Bob’s large, immovable hands are at his hips, rucking him up higher and more firmly on the cock lodged deep inside him.

Bob is, as always, silent other than the motor-like rattling in his huge omnic chest. It is as ominous as it is comforting: Jesse thinks he must have spent the better part of his 5-something years with Deadlock on Bob’s big dick being pounded stupid.

He’s missed this. Missed Bob. Missed being manhandled around like he is now until his ass hits the table and his legs get pulled into the air and stretched apart like he’s a cheap whore before he gets pulled farther up by them so Bob can slide back into the loose gape of what was once a pretty nice asshole in Jesse’s opinion.

It’s a ruin now, he supposes; stretched out and fucked buttery soft by Bob’s big omnic cock. He feels raw and filled up in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

He can awkwardly stare up at Bob now. His face is impassive, of course, but Jesse feels nonetheless like he can read some emotion in the big guy. Like he loves this just as much as Jesse does.

With how tight of a leash Ashe usually has on him, Jesse wonders when the last time has been he’s been able to feel a nice warm cunt on his cock. One that could take him the way Jesse can.

Bob blinks, suddenly, then jerks to a halt. Jesse stares at him, mouth hanging open, brow furrowing-

He hears a mechanical whirring sound first, then feels the change inside him as his lower belly begins to *bloat*-

He scrabbles at the table top, nearly toppling his mug of coffee and throwing his pie to the floor as his legs kick out spastically and his own cock flexes and jerks against his belly.

“Oh damn, Bob-” He whines when Bob’s hands stay punishingly firm. There’s no leeway for him whatsoever: he has to stay impaled on Bob’s cock and be slowly inflated by what he can only assume is goddamn *Omnic cum*. “Got yourself some upgrades?!”

Bob only blinks at him and cocks his head slightly.