Feminine Troubles

Aka Mechs to Femmes. The Autobots are now female. The Decepticons are now confused. And Megatron starts to realize that there may be an alternative to endless war.

Author's Note: this was a response to a prompt on Transformers Kink Meme. It's quasi G1, but includes elements from various versions. It's also a comedy which is only suitable for adults. I mean it. See the rating? If you are not old enough to read/watch naughty things, please hit the back button.


"Megatron! Release the humans!"

The voice was smooth, commanding, resonant…and female. Alto. Ringing like a silver cathedral bell. All over the soon-to be battleground at the refinery, Decepticon heads whipped around. Shortly thereafter, jaws dropped.

Through the chocking, whirling dust kicked up by the flying mechs' engines, came what logically should have been the familiar broad shouldered red and blue form of Optimus Prime. Instead, the form was rather slighter, a touch shorter, and very curvy.

The Optimus Prime-colored femme strode across the battlefield. Her determined blue optics intent above a battle mask whose shape was just ever so slightly wrong. Familiar looking antennas graced the head of a form far too slender and graceful to ever belong to a mech. Hips swayed in a way that no male Cybertronian could accomplish, even Starscream at his most bitchy. To each side of the apparition where a pair of gracile black and white femmes who moved with easy competence. One bore a red chevron, the other a familiar blue visor.

The tree of them leveled their weapons at the energon raiding party.

Behind the trio, the rest of what should have been the Decepticons' ancient foes untransformed into svelte female frames.

Megatron dropped the energon cube he held on his pede.

The battle had gone well.

Despite the disadvantage of their newly diminished physical mass, the Autobots had easily driven off the Decepticon forces. Of course, it hadn't been much of a battle. For one thing, it had taken the opposition so much time to shake off their shock that Prime's group had a definite strategic advantage. For another, when Sideswipe and Sunsteaker had tackled Thundercacker and Skywarp, the jets had practically rolled over and played dead. Though dead mechs rarely smiled in such a disturbingly smarmy way…

Ironhide had mumbled something about "giving the younglings a talk regarding appropriateness of jet judo" at the display. To be honest, some of the Autobots had long wondered about the twins fascination with jumping on the seekers and grabbing their wings all the time…

Starscream had stared, speechless for perhaps the first time in his life. Even Soundwave had appeared distinctly nonplussed.

Optimus physically shook her head to dispel the unsettling images. She supposed that the seekers hadn't been nearly as bad as the cassette twins. Rumble and Frenzy had taken one look at the arrayed Autobot forces and frozen up, their cooling fans beginning to whine as their simple little processing cores overheated. The matrix bearer never thought the day would come when she would miss the mini-mechs' usual insanely aggressive behavior.

It occurred to her that there was the possibility that the two symbiote brothers had never seen female Cybertronians in person before. Actually, that might make the whole situation more disturbing, not less…

None of the Autobots knew much about Soundwave's symbiotes, including their ages.. Now that she thought about it, it was entirely within the realm of possibility that they had been sparked after most surviving femmes had joined the Autobots or gone to ground. They certainly acted like badly adjusted punk younglings most of the time.

Female Transformers had been relatively rare for a very long time, and many had been killed in the early days of the war. There had only been a tiny number of them in the Cybertronian army, and almost all of the Decepticon forces had begun their lives as military builds. The civilian casualties at the beginning of the war had been brutal. Elita's forces on Cyberton had been in hiding for vorns, running an insurgency as best they could.

Optimus sighed, and shifted on her office chair. She was sitting at her desk, attempting to get some work done. Unfortunately, her mind kept turning to their new state and dwelling on what it would mean to the war effort. Besides, there was another whose potential reaction was a concern. Optimus had been bonded with Elita One for millenia, and she had no idea how the femme commander would react to her mech turning into another femme.

While Optimus knew the rose-colored femme was…flexible in her arrangements, just like most Cybertonians were, she had bonded with Optimus when he was still, well, a he. She might be most displeased. Loosing Elita as a partner would just be the perfect topper to an already horrible situation.

Then there was Megatron. Optimus wasn't sure what to make of the other leader's reaction. She had expected taunting and mockery, or for the Decepticon to immediately attack physically. Her programming and reflexes had been altered to fit her new form when they had been changed, so her fighting abilities were the same as always, but she now massed nearly twenty-five percent less than before. That actually made her an anomalously large and solid femme, but definitely put her at a disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat with a military spec mech.

Prowl and Ironhide, who was utterly horrified by the new development, had started researching a human martial arts system called Wing Chun. It had been created by a Buddhist nun in the 1700s, and the art was designed to allow a smaller lighter opponent to fight a larger, heavier one successfully.

Frankly, Optimus was doubtful, but by Primus, she was not going to loose this war or cede Earth to Megatron's forces because of a little thing like turning female. They would just have to rely more on their guns and less on their fists for the immediately foreseeable future. She had assigned the science team to work on finding compensatory measures.

At least they were all faster and more maneuverable in their current forms. Smokescreen had suggested that they use their new "charms" to distract their opponents, but Optimus rather doubted that would work. Though oddly enough it actually had during that last battle…

Megatron had dropped the energon cube he held and just stared, an incredulous expression on his faceplate. Instead of flinging himself bodily into combat with his rival, he had stalked forward like a very confused predator. Possibly a concussed metal tiger. She had been braced for their usual grappling, and had not expected the Decepticon leader to just stop and loom over her, staring.

"Prime?" he had whispered, shock in that deep, rumbling voice. He had made an abortive move as if to touch her face-plate, as though he couldn't believe his optics. Naturally she had blasted him before he got over his surprise enough to go back to threatening the civilians.

Really, Optimus supposed she couldn't blame him for the gobsmacked reaction. When she had first seen the changes to Jazz and Bee, and then the others, she hadn't believed it either. Of course, in her case, she had noticed the changed shape of her servos when she had reached out to see if her tactile sensors would confirm what her optics were telling her. Then she had looked down at her own chassis and let out a most un-Primelike screech.

Ironhide was still teasing her about that, in fact. "Screaming like a girl, Prahm?" she said. Not that she could talk, really. Hide was still mourning the loss of her spike, the big girly-femme.

Some of the men, er, femmes were definitely taking it better than others. Sunstreaker, oddly enough, hardly seemed bothered at all. And Optimus was sure she had seen Tracks checking herself out in a mirror…

Well, to be honest, they had all done it. It was impossible not to, really. For one thing, none of them had seen an actual femme in an awfully long time…besides, some of the Autobots were now gorgeous. Mirage, for example. And Bluestreak was criminally adorable. Perhaps Smokescreen was right, and they could use their newly acquired Feminine Whiles on their enemies. It might even be fun…

No, no, Bad Prime.

If Optimus was being really truthful with herself, she would admit it. Megatron was a fine figure of a mech when he wasn't trying to kill her, her men (er, femmes) or hapless civilians. Plus, his reaction to her new femininity was extremely flattering. On the battlefield, with that broad-shouldered form looming over her, and that deep, darkly charismatic voice rumbling through her, she had experience a very unusual flutter in her systems.

She had still reflexively blasted him when he tried to touch her. After all, the two of them had been trying to slag each other for eons, and normally being in physical contact with the Decepticon leader meant violence. Now she wondered what it would be like to be touched by those dark, clawed hands if they weren't trying to do harm?

Optimus had found Megarton's proximity unnerving, which had not happened since the first time they had met in battle. Pit, he had looked huge. It had been very, very strange to see him that close and not be actively fighting with him. Plus, he had been perfuming the air with spicy masculine cyber-pheromones that she had never noticed when she was a mech. Surely he hadn't always smelled that good…

Without battle routines using the majority of her processor power, she was free to notice details about Megaton's physique that she had never paid attention to before. The craggy gunmetal armor marked with the scars of thousands of battles and intent red optics had been shockingly attractive, in truth. It was a shame he was a malevolent would-be conqueror. He was strong and cunning, and in another life he might have been one of the Prime's generals. Instead, he was an enemy, and her own weapons had created many of those time-faded scars.

Idly, she wondered what he would have been like if not for the war. She knew he had been a gladiator, back when she was still a young dock worker named Orion Pax. She had never been to an arena fight back then, and had regarded the whole thing as barbaric, against the teachings of Primus.

She had no idea whether Megatron had chosen that life. There were many rumors about his origins, and they contradicted each other wildly. She did know that some of the gladiator mechs had been slaves, and if she had been Prime at the time, she would have put a stop to it. They had had some justification for rising in rebellion, as did the military mechs who joined them, though that did not excuse the carnage they had wreaked on the civilian population. Including most of the femmes. They had died in droves at the beginning of the war, and few had been on the Decepticon side, mostly because they were almost invariably in civilian occupations.

Femmes simply were not built for heavy industry and military purposes. When Transformers gradually stopped procreating sexually and began to build their population to spec, their gender balance had become skewed. Femme frames were only built with some occupations in mind, like medics, musicians and data engineers. Things that smaller, more efficient frames made sense for. The Changed Autobot femmes who used to be mechs were, according to Kup, more like throwbacks to an earlier age.

They resembled the female Transformers built in the time period before femme frames had become a minor subset of the population. Once, there had been female warriors and builders, but the free flowing energon and easy access to the Allspark that had characterized the golden age made them obsolete.

As young mechs, Orion and his friend Dion had been fortunate to have a close friendship with the femme Ariel. After the three of them had nearly died, and been upgraded into their current forms as Optimus, Ultra Magnus and Elita One, Optimus and Elita had grown closer. As a mech, Optimus had definitely known his way around a femme chassis.

Nevertheless, Optimus was not going to think too hard about Sunsteaker's comments regarding "checking the functionality" of her new systems.

Megatron wasn't sure whether to break out the high grade and celebrate or throw a screaming tantrum. For one thing, Starscream wasn't around to yell at, having mumbled something along the lines of "I'll be in my bunk" and slunk off.

Actually, that reaction had been pretty standard among the troops. No one had even bitched about their retreat without most of the energon they came for. Megatron had never seen so many dreamy looks on his usually bitter, crude, battle-hardened troops' face-plates.

Well, having your ancient enemies turn into walking wet-dreams might be a reasonable cause for something like that, he supposed.

Pit…Optimus Prime, the enemy leader…Even Megatron had always been willing to admit (at least to himself) that the accursed Autobot was a formidable foe. Powerful, majestic, noble…a born leader hobbled by a too-soft spark and a ridiculously inflexible moral code.

Now, Megatron was forced to add "impossibly foxy" to that description. Primus, how long had it been since he had last laid optics on a female Cybertonian? Vorns, at least. There had been some grainy footage of a handful of Autobot insurgents on Cybertron, but nothing more.

Unbidden, his processor threw up a fantasy of the Autobot commander in chains at the foot of his throne. Megatron felt his internal temperature rising at the image. It was certainly not the first time he had imagined something similar, and was in fact a favorite daydream, but it was much different now that his mind was painting an image of those sleek curves bound by energy chains instead of the Prime's old blocky form.

Instead of his usual imagining of a captive Optimus in the position of a lowly drudge, perhaps a mine slave like Megatron had once been, she would now be a pampered, lovingly maintained consort. Perhaps not his queen; no, that would grant the Autobot too much authority. Femme or not, she was still powerful, and dangerous to his ambitions.

Although…if it were possible to have all that strength and grace on his side, supporting his cause…Unlikely, but he supposed a mech could dream.

She would be the mother of his sparklings, to be certain. Megatron would take Optimus Prime as a consort, won through battle or seduction. Or better yet, both. Only the best would do for the Lord of Cybertron. He would grant his followers Autobot prisoner/consorts of their own. It would make his troops more loyal, and provide a way to repopulate safely and quickly. He would however have to monitor the femmes' condition closely to be sure that his men weren't damaging such a precious resource unduly.

The formerly worthless Autobots had become an almost unimaginable treasure. Optimus was its crown jewel, of course. And of course she would belong to Megatron. No other would touch her, ever. Well, unless it was one of the other femmes, of course. That would be slaggin' hot. Those lovely black and white officers who were the second and third in command under Prime made a beautiful contrast to her flame-painted chassis.

Megatron took another short vacation to fantasy land, then forcibly wrenched his imagination back under control. Come to think of it, didn't Prime have a long-standing relationship with that troublesome femme commander back on Cybertron? Shockwave had never been able to capture any of her troops, which spoke for excellent leadership skills.

He would need to smoke Elita's people out of hiding somehow, but it was not yet a priority. He couldn't have insurgents on his throne world, but for now the situation was in no way pressing. By the time it absolutely had to be addressed, he would probably have sparklings to use as a lure in capturing them. Easy enough to fake a situation where younglings were being "menaced" by a few Decepticons, with hidden troops waiting for the femmes to try to rescue them. His people could then capture them and begin the process of taming them. Hopefully having sparklings around would help with that, too.

It would be necessary for the femmes to have each other's company, of course. Unhappy or overly stressed females did not become sparked up, or their bodies would reject the drain on their systems that a sparkling caused, and the new-spark would be lost. It would be bad enough that his troops' brutish manners would constantly strain their delicate systems, without adding social isolation to the mix.

Megatron had really only ever had fleeting contact with females of his own kind. As a mine slave, he had always been surrounded by mechs only, and as a gladiator, the many femmes he had contact with were only interested in thrills or bragging rights. Of course, once he had become leader of the rebellion, most femmes had been part of the regrettable collateral damage of the war.

There had been a few who he had interacted with on other terms, mostly medics and scientists, or the occasional entertainer.

There had been a medic in the pits who all the gladiators had revered. An elderly femme named Steelforge who was always unfailingly kind and gentle to her patients, and her young femme apprentice Torchweld. Looking back, he wondered what the pit they had been doing in that hellhole. The gladiatorial complex had been no place for a couple of sweet little females. Well, perhaps Steelforge hadn't been precisely "sweet," but he had been fond of her.

If there had been an upside to getting the slag beaten out of him in a fight, it had been the expert, considerate repairs from the old medic afterwards. It was one of the only times he had ever been cared for in such a way.

He remembered being almost afraid to go near the two medics, because they were so small and delicate and gentle compared to his own hulking frame. When he was much younger, he had often wondered what became of them during the war. They were probably deactivated long ago. Megatron supposed that all the surviving natural femmes must be the toughest and fiercest left from the old days, so they would be a lot sturdier than Steelforge or Torchweld. Certainly the newly transformed Ironhide and Prime were still strong and capable.

Speaking of Prime…he had been indulging in a systems-heating fantasy…

Yesssss, that gorgeous blue and red form sprawled across the Decepticon lord's lap, hands cuffed behind her…Head tilted back on slender neck to allow Megatron's mouth access to the wires and conduits of her vulnerable throat….

He would have a collar made for her, he thought. One bearing the Decipticon sigil. Not the kind of heavy, bulky thing he had worn in his slave days, of course, but a finely wrought item that would proclaim to all that the Autobot leader was his. Of course, first he would have to make that happen. He had never been able to bend Prime to his will before, but now he had new tools available.

Perhaps he also needed to spend some time in his bunk.

Author's Note: As I mentioned before, this is continuity soup, and I should probably clarify just a couple more things before the insanity goes any further.

Cybertonians' primary mode of reproduction involved the Allspark for millions of years, because sexual reproduction was cumbersome and resource heavy. They could always do it, they just usually didn't. Perhaps it was regarded as barbaric. Author is not sure yet.

On scale issues; I've decided that various transformers subspace some of their mass to turn into cars, because I want the standard size for an Autobot to be about the same as a Decepticon, and a jet is just a LOT bigger than a car or truck. I want Femme!Optimus to still be a bit larger than a seeker mech. However, Megatron turns into an alien fighter plane a la movie, because turning into a tiny little gun is silly :-) Ditto for using movie time frame. In G1, if they were in stasis on Earth for 4 million years, why has nothing changed on Cyberton? I mean, wouldn't Elita and Shockwave have taken over the factions by then? It was frikkin' Geological time! The war has to be faster progressing than Earth glaciers!

Hell, wouldn't they either have gone extinct, or the war would have ended? I chalk this up to the Trope "Scifi writers have no sense of scale".)

Second Note: Thank you Merrypaws for telling me how to get my line breaks back on here. FF ate them when I uploaded and I couldn't figure out how to get them back!