Meh. Baaa. Sheep meme.

[sakon76]

Ganked from several people on my flist:

Give me one of my own stories (finished or not), and a time at some point after the end of the story or before the story started, and I'll write you at least 100 words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story begins or ten years in the future.

Comments

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

Surprise surprise :) Boy in the Box, one vorn later.

[sakon76.livejournal.com]

The air never tasted quite right. It smelled like metal and ozone and something vaguely sweet that made Sam's mouth water a little if he concentrated on trying to narrow down the scent. He still wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he was pretty sure it was from something he didn't want to put in his mouth.

Other than the relatively similar smell of the human-appropriate air, however, the Ark could not be more different from the Nemesis if it tried. The walls were smooth and unscored, connecting in gentle curves. They were colored in whites and light silvers, with interesting touches of orange to relieve the monotone. The Decepticon warship had been angular, with claw-raked surfaces, constructed of metallic blacks, hematites, and lit with dark purple or red that made it hard for Sam to see.

The light....

Sam tilted his face up toward it appreciatively. He could feel it soaking in like it was real sunlight. It was, the medic had told him, calibrated precisely to mimic the atmospherically diluted radiation of Sol that had once fallen on Earth's surface.

He didn't know how they had managed to save enough of Earth to make things liveable for the rescued, surviving humans. Didn't know how there was an entire deck, the most heavily shielded, with orange trees and corn and rabbits and chickens and soil and grass and running water... and none of it a hologram, the way he'd been convinced it was the first time Smokescreen had taken him there.

And Sam knew he was still fucked-up in the head, despite the Autobot psychologist's best efforts to blunt the edges. What did aliens know about standard baseline human psychology, anyway? They might've saved some things off the Internet so long ago, but they were from an completely different culture.

At least Smokescreen knew enough to acknowledge that, to gently tell Sam that he could only guide so far and that sooner or later the human would be balanced enough to be his own doctor.

They were keeping the other humans mostly away from him, Sam knew, both for their safety and his own. He'd met a few in passing, and felt... inadequate.

Raoul, strong and tall and friendly, with teeth so white they were nearly blinding. Chip, smart enough to keep up with the Autobots' engineers, who looked like he should be a movie heartthrob. If one ignored the hoverchair he was wired into so it could correct the spinal damage his Decepticon ex-owner had caused. And Carly, who was all confidence and intelligence and curves in all the right places and made a part of Sam that he'd thought burnt out give a painful lurch each time he saw her.

First Aid had eventually figured out the source of his depression and let Sam know that the three of them, and all the other humans remaining, had been specially bred and genetically altered by Decepticon entrepeneurs in the centuries since Earth's demise. Sockets might have been illegal among the Decepticons, but that just meant that there was a thriving black market. That the three of them were perfect was not a matter of chance or choice.

Sam was the only unaltered human left.

"Are you ready, Sam?" First Aid asked him.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied. He didn't know if he was looking forward to this or not. The socket at the base of his neck tingled and he rubbed at it. First Aid had tsked at it, calling it sloppy work, and offered to correctly install a proper socket module, if Sam ever chose. He hadn't yet, wanting to distance himself from that. Wanting to be more than just an organic orgasm source. Wanting to have a life again, a purpose and meaning beyond whoring his body to Cybertronians in order to survive.

First Aid and Smokescreen had respected that, only connecting to him for medical needs, to clear out the damage Megatron's nanites and presence had done him over so many years.

"Excellent." First Aid folded down into a vehicle mode that had never been seen on Earth and slid open a door, inviting. Sam hesitated a moment, then shook himself.

This was the first day of the rest of his life.

"I'm ready," he told the medic, told himself. If he kept repeating it, he might be able to make himself feel it. It was time to see what he could do for the Autobots.

"Rodimus Prime is waiting."

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

Oh OH!!! This is marvelous. Gah, so much to love here. The Ark really is an Ark, isn't it? A refuge for these last remaining humans. And then the inadequacy feels before he realizes he is the only unaltered human left, the only one not bred (LOVE the use of canon characters here, too, and the shudder at the explanation for Chip's spinal damage). And just the heartbreak at Sam's desire to be something other than a battery, and orgasm machine, whoring his body. It just breaks me in all the right ways, Sakon, like this particular story always does. I feel like you took this idea and improved upon it by a 1000.

I SO hope you will continue :)

[flybystardancer.livejournal.com]

Oooh... *shivers* Really well done!

[flybystardancer.livejournal.com]

Going with one so old people may have forgotten it, but...

Electronic Coupling, one month later.

:)

Not quite what you asked for, probably....

[sakon76.livejournal.com]

From the first moment Carly had heard of them, she'd been fascinated by the Autobots. Part of it was her engineering bent--an entire species of real, live robots! She wanted nothing more than to figure out how they worked and what their tech was like. Part of it was the fact that she was a sci-fi fan; Star Wars had hooked her on the idea of life on other planets, and here it was on hers! But a major part of her interest in the aliens, she had to admit, was that they were women.

Giant, alien, robotic women warriors and leaders and scientists. And no one gave them crap for being women, or telling them that something was beyond their understanding, or that girls didn't study certain subjects....

She'd wanted, with all her heart, nothing more than to meet them and maybe, maybe, in the back corner of her dreams and wishes and hopes where she stuffed everything she thought would never really happen, maybe she could learn from them and be as awesome as they were.

Because after seeing Reagan on TV gingerly shaking the hand of Optimus Prime, and seeing 8 o'clock news footage of Prowl co-ordinating a human/Autobot military attack on Decepticons....

The robotic women ("femmes," they called themselves) from outer space could do anything they set their minds to. And Carly, and any number of other girls she knew, were not going to be left behind.

*

Carly let the doors to the washracks slide closed behind her with a sigh. It had been a very long day calibrating the auto-defense targeting system for Autobot City, and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in some hot water.

And she loved Spike dearly, but sometimes it was just nice to be able to foist their five-year-old son off onto him and Sparkplug, letting the men order pizza and watch football or monster truck rallies or whatever it was they did, while she went off and bonded with her girlfriends.

[sakon76.livejournal.com]

The door slid open behind her. "Good evening, Carly," Prowl said politely as Carly moved out of the way.

"Hey, Prowl," she replied. Carly walked over to the cubby set into the wall, out of direct line of sight of the door, and started stripping. The cubby had been added just for her, as the other femmes of the Ark tended to go around either fully armored even in the baths... or go around wearing nothing more than body paint at all times, depending on how one looked at the matter. "How was your day?" she called as the black-and-white headed for the acid showers, one section Carly kept well clear of.

"Frustrating," the tactician replied. "The twins and Jazz are in the brig again. Separate cells," she added.

Tucking her shoes under the bundle of clothing, Carly grabbed her towel and caddy and headed for the water shower on the opposite wall. "All three of them?" she asked. "Are we talking a brawl, or a prank?"

"A combination thereof. Sunstreaker didn't take the prank well."

Carly winced.

It must be tough, she thought, ducking her head under the spray, to have to discipline your own lover like that. It was fortunately something that had never come up between Bumblebee and Spike and her, with the weird sideways heirarchy of where human allies fit into the Autobot military structure. Even with Bee being 3IC of the Special Operations division, the femme didn't have any disciplinary ranking over her human lovers. "Jazz pissed at you?"

"Not as such," Prowl replied, fluttering her wings under the mild spray to get them clean. "More... disappointed that the prank didn't work out as planned." Carly laughed, working shampoo into her hair. "And your day, Carly?" Prowl added.

"Meh. Some days I want to take Ratchet's option and just hit it all with a wrench until it works," she said. "We've tracked down a few bugs; give us another five days and we might have a working system." Tech integration of human and Cybertronian systems was always a bitch. But each had some advantages over the other, and combining them had more than once given the Autobots the advantage over the Decepticons.

"We are, as always, appreciative of your efforts," Prowl told her.

Carly ducked and rinsed, then stood back up straight, flinging sloppy-wet hair out of her face. "Where else," she asked Prowl seriously, "would I ever get the chance to do what I do here?"

Prowl just shook her head. "Your species is improving its views on gender parity in a remarkably short period of time." Sped up, Carly thought, by the presence of solid metal awesome alien femmes. "Someday all young women will have the opportunities you do. It is merely a matter of time."

[flybystardancer.livejournal.com]

Not exactly, but it's still wonderful! :D I just want to hug Carly.

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

This is wonderful!!! I've read (and been irritated on behalf of my gender) in so many fics the explanation of why the Cybertronians choose male gender pronouns in relating to the humans (so as not to put themselves at any disadvantage), to have them here, as femmes and clearly being identified as female, opens up so much. As if someone wouldn't respect and be in awe of Optimus Prime, no matter what gender pronoun was used for her.

And I just love the image of Carly hanging out in the shower with the other "girls" (as I also love the image of Prowl having to discipline her lover).

I must admit I'd love to see a long fic from you based on this trope :)