Gift-Story for Kida-Bridger

[thalanee]

Surprise!

A birthday present for
kida_bridger

Author: Thalanee

Verse: It’s A Game-Verse

Word Count: 3650 words

Rating: pg-13

Warnings: no eating or drinking while reading this! Also, pure crack as usual.

Disclaimer: Transformers do not belong to me, I only play with them.

Summary: It’s amazing the things you can do in an online game if you tweak the coding a little…Give yourself better weapons, up your scores, change the genders of your friends’ characters…


Author’s Notes: This was inspired by a wonderful picture of a great femme-Prowl I found on deviantart (just remove the empty spaces):

http:// crimson-nemesis .deviantart.com /art/prowl-linchen-254180842

Doesn’t she look great?

This is dedicated to the wonderful kida-bridger, to thank her for all the support she gave me this year. Happy birthday and a happy new year to you! ^^ I hope you like it!

XXXXX

The hacker rubbed his servos in barely containable glee as he finished the last adjustments to the game’s code. “The Great War: Transformers Prime” was the newest edition of the online game that had enthralled many bots across Cybertron, from lower ranking dockhands to high ranking senators and nobles, even the seekers who usually kept their distances from anyone but their Praxian cousins played it with unbridled enthusiasm.

With each new edition of the game there was something new. The character designs were never the same, ranging from the blocky “Generation 1” designs to the smooth and very lifelike forms of “In Search of The Allspark” or the cartoon-inspired ones of “Stranded on Earth”, background stories differed just as widely, as did the various missions and adventures and treasure hunts. The only constant were the two factions, the Autobots and the Decepticons, and even with these the game designers had played around when they developed the “Shattered Mirror”- add-on, turning around every preconception there was and making everything the opposite of what one expected.

In the hackers humble opinion however there was one thing that was missing, and he would be the one to rectify that mistake.

Crafting this little master piece had taken him a long time, but he was sure the long wait would be worth all the effort involved in learning how to program, a skill he had acquired just for the occasion. As a bonus, it turned out he was a natural at it.

His optics glinting the perpetrator checked the code one last time to make sure it would only do what he intended, since he didn’t want any nasty side-effects spoiling his surprise for the other players. Once he was sure everything was in order, he activated the little program and stayed long enough to see it begin its work before he disconnected from the game’s server.

Now it would only take a few more hours until the program ran its course. It took a lot of willpower for him not to log in and wait in the game for most of the players to join him. Being that early would be highly suspicious and he didn’t want anyone to find out that he was the one responsible for this. At least not yet.

This was going to be so much fun!

XXXXX

Prowl looked down at his body in horror.

Or rather, her body.

Prowl had expected to look somewhat different after upgrading his gaming account to include the newest edition of the game, but never even in his wildest dreams would he have expected this outcome and he was pretty sure that this wasn’t part of the description of the changes to the designs.

His black and white colour scheme and his doorwinged frame still were the same they had been before. The golden visor was a new addition to his looks prompted by a remark his-her bondmate had made, that each should adopt a feature of the other (Jazz planned to get back to the black and white paintjob he had shared with Prowl in their first game), but the rest of what he, no she was currently staring at in rising mortification was most assuredly nothing Prowl had planned hi- herself.

Because her waist was just a little thinner than it had been before, drawing attention to the black hips, and her whole figure had turned a bit more slender. The curves of her armour were a little more pronounced even around her bumper, giving her a softer appearance. Though the doorwings and rocket launchers had remained as they were, her face had been altered slightly (was it Prowl’s imagination or were her lips a little fuller than she was used to), giving it a more feminine appearance while still being recognizable as Prowl.

Prowl was now undeniably a femme.

She had always been prepared for some rather drastic changes with each new edition, but this was taking things rather far. It was a miracle that her touchy battle computer had long since stopped trying to analyze anything she stumbled across in the game. At the start it had kept crashing, taking her with it, but after some time it apparently resigned itself to the fact that this game wasn’t supposed to be logical and had accepted the overrides Prowl had installed so she could play the game without crashing.

Turning and twisting so she could inspect her new body, Prowl quickly came to the realization that whoever was responsible for this turn of events (she didn’t believe the game’s developers were behind this, even though they did have a strangely quirky sense of humor) definitely knew what they were doing, because her transformed body looked perfectly natural, as if she had always been a femme.

She froze in shock as an errant thought crossed her mind.

Jazz would never let her live this down!

Groaning to herself (dear Primus, even her voice had changed), she could imagine without trouble the look of perverse delight on his face, since she somehow had the feeling that whatever this was, it would be just her luck that Jazz wasn’t infected. No, he’d still be a mech, she was sure about that.

She couldn’t let her bondmate see her like that!

Another trail of thought stopped her cold and golden optics narrowed to thin slits, as she actually hissed. He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t.

Primus help her, Jazz would come up with some harebrained scheme like that. He wasn’t one of the greatest resident pranksters for nothing. A prank like this seemed right up his alley. Her bondmate would enjoy the irony of the idea immensely.

If her suspicion proved right then her bondmate would better have a good excuse, because if he had done what she thought he had, he was in for a very rude awakening. She would have to teach him the error of his ways, and she knew exactly how she was going to do that. And even if he wasn’t the miscreant at the centre of this ploy, he was one of the most likely suspects, one of the few who were shrewd enough to come up with the plan and talented enough to put thought into action.

The mech turned femme huffed to herself. With his penchant for getting into trouble, it would be a miracle if Jazz didn’t get blamed.

No matter which, she’d either strangle him or have to rescue him. That meant finding him before he got into trouble. Activating her sensors she proceeded to track down her errant mate.

Prowl just hoped that wherever Jazz was just now, she would be the one to get to him first!

XXXXX

If only Prowl knew how right she was.

In fact, Jazz was enjoying the show very much.

It was not every day that you could watch big bad Megatron get his aft handed to him spectacularly by two femmes who didn’t even reach his shoulders.

Because Starscream was not amused when he had logged into the game and found himself in a femme’s body (to the delight of her two trinemates who -still being mechs themselves- had mercilessly teased the poor seeker). He, no she, had gotten over her shock rather quickly though when Megatron had appeared, having just logged into the game himself and proceeded to laugh himself silly upon seeing the white and red seeker shriek comically in horror at her new appearance.

Now, slagging off Starscream was bad enough in itself, but by a very unfortunate turn of events, Optimus and Ratchet had also been hit by whatever was causing the characters of random bots to change their frame types. Suffice to say, that of the two of them Ratchet especially had not taken well to being laughed at (Optimus was still being busy gaping at his new form like an Earth fish, his mouth opening as if he was about to say something, then closing as if he had thought better of it).

A couple of minutes into the argument, the fearless and great leader of the Decepticons had tucked his proverbial tail and ran, swiftly being followed by the two enraged femmes. Right at the moment they were running in circles, Ratchet throwing her returning wrenches and Starscream taking potshots at her leader from above.

“Why are you hovering there?” Megatron called out to the other Command Trine seekers who were busy watching the proceedings from the sidelines. “Get your afts over here and help me!”

“No one is going to help you, buckethead,” Starscream exclaimed. “Your aft is mine!”

“Get in line behind me, flyboy!” Ratchet growled from behind, carefully taking aim and throwing. Survival instincts had Megatron dropping to the earth in time to avoid being hit.

“Ah say the deathblow is gonna be Ratchet’s,” Jazz announced, while Megatron picked himself of the earth to avoid being hit by one of Starscream’s missiles, a triumphant noise bursting out of the massive mech as he realized that he was still largely uninjured, before he was hit in the back of the head which, sadly, was in the way of Ratchet’s wrench returning to its mistress.

“I don’t know, mech, I’ve never seen Starscream this furious, and I’ve known him since he was a sparkling. Those were some spectacular tantrums…,” Skywarp mused, flinching in synchrony with the others when a particularly well placed Wrench of DoomTM hit the grey Decepticon warlord in a rather sensitive area, prompting him to topple over and clutching his crotch plate, groaning theatrically in defeat.

They all winced in sympathy, almost feeling the warlord’s pain. It didn’t stop Jazz and Skywarp from laughing though. Especially when Optimus waded into the fray to try and sooth the poor mech. Seeing femme Optimus fussing over Megatron and protecting him from the other femmes made the whole scene even more hysterical.

“Jazz wins.” Thundercracker’s tone of voice was perfectly dry, as if there was nothing outstanding about the insanity surrounding them. Maybe the dark blue mech was onto something.

Starscream however still wasn’t satisfied, and now that she had been deprived of her opportunity to hand his aft to the Decepticon leader, her ire was looking for a new target. The fuming seeker wanted revenge!

“Look at the fun side of it.” Jazz chuckled. A fatal mistake. Starscream zeroed in onto the silver mech. Thundercracker and Skywarp, apparently being possessed of sharper survival instincts than the unsuspecting Autobot, surreptitiously took a few cautious steps backward until they were standing a bit apart from Jazz, who they thought really should have known better.

“’Fun side’?! What do you mean ‘fun side’?! I’ve fragging been turned into a femme!” Starscream wailed, his voice climbing up to heights never reached before. Jazz idly wondered if the seeker’s screeching voice could be turned into a weapon if one could get her to scream at a high enough frequency. Something to think about for the future…

The idea of Starscream literally screaming his/her enemies into submission until they clutched their audios and surrendered was too bizarre not to be hilarious. The silver mech couldn’t help but grin at the images his traitorous CPU was coming up with.

Unfortunately, he had neglected to account for Starscream’s mood before he started chortling to himself.

Red optics narrowed at the clearly very amused saboteur, the seeker femme stepping closer until she loomed over Jazz (even in her smaller femme frame the seeker was taller than him). Meanwhile was beginning to dawn on him that laughing in the Aerial Commander’s face wasn’t one of his brightest ideas.

“You seem awfully pleased with this turn of events.” Large wings rose in a threatening gesture and armour puffed up to make the femme look even more menacing. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, by chance.”

“Ah swear ta Primus, Ah’m innocent!” he squeaked, the answer being almost instinctual. Damn, but the mech could be scary when he set his mind to it, even now when he was a femme. Frantically he looked around to see if someone was willing to help him out.

Thundercracker and Skywarp, the fraggers, had developed a sudden burning interest in the armour covering their peds and thrusters and were studying them with intense focus. Megatron was still being fussed over by his brother turned sister. And Ratchet was looking at him suspiciously.

“Now, let’s not be hasty an’ do anything ya might regret later, right?” Holding up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture the saboteur tried his best to look as innocent as possible holding on to the hope that femme- Starscream might be more susceptible to the kicked puppy look than mech- Starscream but to no avail.

“Oh I don’t think I’ll regret this.” Starscream answered, her grin looking slightly demented to his optics.

Jazz gulped.

“I beg to differ,” a new voice called out. It sounded very familiar to Jazz and when he turned to look at the speaker he knew why.

There, up on top of a precipice was Prowl.

Femme Prowl.

Jazz couldn’t have looked away even if he had wanted to. Who would have known that Prowl as a femme would look that gorgeous? She stood with one foot up on a rock, doorwings flared out and drawing attention to the look on her face that could only be described as a saucy smirk. Her optics were hidden behind a golden visor, but Jazz swore he knew that behind that piece of glass they were twinkling mischievously. The weapon in her left was trained on Starscream but what really had Jazz’s attention, apart from the smirk on her face, were the handcuffs dangling from the second digit of her right hand.

If he wasn’t already bonded to Prowl he would have proposed on the spot.

While Jazz was busy drooling over the changed appearance of his bondmate, Starscream scowled at the other femme.

“So you’ve been hit by this too.”

Prowl cocked her head slightly (the part of him that wasn’t staring in fascination at the part of her neck that was being exposed by the motion knew that one of her optic ridges was raised). “Indeed.”

Starscream sputtered. “That’s all you have to say to this? Someone turned as into slagging femmes and all you say is ‘Indeed’?”

Assured that her best friend wouldn’t do anything permanent to her bondmate, Prowl lowered her weapon. “I would be happy to oblige if my running around screaming would help you, but personally I would prefer finding the real perpetrator, so we can persuade him to remove whatever virus caused this change.”

“I already did.”

“True Jazz is one of the most likely suspects, but I prefer to accumulate some evidence before handing out punishment. Once we have traced the virus back to its creator, I will hand the delinquent over to you. Is that satisfactory to you?”

With a move that was poetry in motion to the performer in Jazz, the tactician jumped from the rock to gracefully land on the earth below it and joined the other bots.

There was no way she could argue with that, so Starscream didn’t. “How do you propose to accomplish that?”

“I am tracing the virus as we speak, both in- game and out- game. It will not take long now.” Prowl paused, then glanced at Starscream. A grin that could only be described as diabolical adorned her face (Jazz felt his engine pick up speed). “Do you already have an appropriate punishment in mind, or are you open to a suggestion?” the femme asked sweetly.

A matching grin graced the seeker femme’s face. “I might… what have you got?”

When Prowl explained what would be in store for the sorry bot that had come up with the virus, the two femmes laughed.

And the present mechs whimpered.

XXXXX

Watching the proceedings from afar the hacker was delighted how his little project had turned out. Of course he had hoped that Prowl would be one of the players to be hit by the virus, but to see it actually come true before his very own optics was more than he had dared to dream of. Who would have known that Prowl would make such a good looking femme.

And the show Starscream and Ratchet had put on with Megatron had been beyond funny. Warm shivers of contentment ran through his frame- both in game and out- to see his plan work so flawlessly.

It was a pity he couldn’t hear what the femmes were saying, but he didn’t dare approach, especially now that Prowl was there. That mech, femme could see right through him even at the best of times and he was having a hard time not to collapse in a fit of hysterical giggling as it was. Earlier, he had nearly given himself away when Starscream had literally started screaming the stars down and now his trouble-senses were hollering at himto run like hell because Prowl was onto him and soon he’d be in Trouble.

Under other circumstances that sense of his had been immensely helpful to avoid getting caught out by Prowl, ar at least, delay the inevitable, because no matter what he did, sooner or later the tactician caught him. Those real life cop-bot instincts apparently paid off in the game too. But there was no way the doorwinger had found out already, was there?

Another shudder ran along his frame, this time umcomfortably hot.

Swiftly followed by another.

Something wasn’t right there. Maybe he , oh the irony, caught another virus himself? But no, there was nothing wrong with his real frame, this was only in the game. Could you actually get sick in-game? Frowning, he contemplated that realism could be taken a bit too far, when he realized edges of black encroaching in his vision.

Oh slag. That couldn’t be. Prowl hadn’t!

Before he could form another more coherent thought, everything became black.

XXXXX

The group of bots stared at the form before them in fascination.

“Ya know, baby, that gives new meaning ta the expression ‘cruel an’ unusual punishment.” Jazz had his arms wrapped about his still femme-inized mate, entranced by the differences and the similarities. Besides he wasn’t one to miss the opportunity to touch Prowl in any way.

“I know.” White wings flapped lazily in contentment, as their owner purred in satisfaction at another of her plans coming together.

“In this particular instance, I don’t mind admitting that I couldn’t have come up with a better punishment.” Starscream quipped, casually taking another image capture in spite of the furious clicks coming from the being before her.

“The little slagger brought in on himself,” Ratchet scoffed, prompting Megatron to hide behind the smaller Optimus as best he could. “Don’t even try that look on me, it didn’t work when you were and adult, and it doesn’t work now.”

The addressed mech chirred, sounding slightly depressed, before he put out his lower lip in a pout. How he would have loved to give the other bots a piece of his processor, but he couldn’t, because. They. Had Turned him. Into. A sparkling!

He had been horrified when he had woken up looking up at the much taller bots surrounding him. His sluggish processors had latched onto the fact that even lying flat on the floor, the others shouldn’t look that much taller but he hadn’t quite been able to figure out what was different until he had looked at his own body. His very much smaller body. He was positively tiny in comparison to the others, his small servos and peds would have fitted into theirs several times and when he managed to actually stand up for a while, he barely reached knee-height, before plonking down on his aft again, his baby blue optics wide.

Sideswipe clicked furiously to himself. Turning the tables about like that simply wasn’t right. Even more so because it had been Prowl who had reprogrammed his own virus to turn the victim into a sparkling instead of a femme and sent it back to him!

Proper, straight-laced Prowl had pranked him!

Any other day he could have laughed, even appreciated the irony, not now though, maybe he was still in shock.

“Do not worry unduly, Sideswipe, the effects will wear off after the same duration you specified for the virus you gave us. Besides,” Prowl said, a suspiciously smug tone in her voice, “you make a very cute sparkling.”

That tore it. Sideswipe flung himself at the black and white’s leg, clicking furiously, while the others watched him try to climb up the appendage.

Jazz, his chin resting on Prowl’s shoulder, nudged his mate slightly, prompting her to turn and look at him quizzically.

“Prowler?”

“Yes, Jazz?”

“I’m glad ya’re on our side.”

“Indeed.”

“And Prowler?

“Yes, Jazz?”

“I love it when you’re being devious.”

The End (for now)

Author’s Notes II: There have been some very good genderbender- or mechs as sparkling- tales out there, and one day it struck me: there’s hardly any setting in which those changes make more sense than in a game! I just had to write this.

So, how did you guys like it?