Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Hasbro does.

Warnings: This story contains slash, though nothing explicit and it has Transformers using holoforms (or something of the like), so if that kind of thing doesn't interest you, turn back now.

Also, I fail at writing accents, so I'm afraid you'll just have to use your imagination.

Pairings: Prowl/Jazz, Ironhide/Ratchet, Inferno/Red Alert

Chapter 1

"I am not stressed. I am not stressed. I AM NOT STRESSED!" screamed Ratchet, causing everyone in the medbay to stare at him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night boss," First Aid responded sarcastically.

"Come on, Prowl," urged Jazz, "just think about it? Blue skies, sandy beaches, room service and no twins."

Prowl sighed in irritation and carefully laid his data pad down on his desk. "Jazz, listen very carefully. I…Don't…Do…Holidays."

"But you're stressed," Jazz pouted.

"I AM NOT STRESSED!"

"This cannot be healthy," Inferno observed, watching Red Alert obsessively check every screen in the security room.

"Neither is setting fires, Inferno," Red Alert huffed back, "so you do what you do and I'll do what I do."

"What? Stress?"

"For the ten thousandth time, I AM NOT STRESSED!"

"No, Ratchet." Optimus shook his head. "You may not kill the twins. They may be annoying, but we do have need of them."

"Can I at least turn them into toasters?"

"No."

"But my tools..."

"Well get them down off the medbay ceiling."

"And the oil?"

"I'll see that it gets cleaned up. You just go and have yourself some energon and don't kill the twins."

Grumbling, Ratchet exited Optimus' office, muttering about transferring the twins to Pluto.

"This is the way we kill the twins, kill the twins, kill the twins. This is the way we kill the twins so early in the morning," Ratchet sung softly, glowering at any mech who came to close and ignoring the strange looks he was receiving.

"There you are," Ratchet snapped when Red Alert appeared, yawning heavily. "You better not have pulled another all nighter again, because if you do a Prowl and collapse from exhaustion, I am not fixing you."

"I didn't pull another all nighter," Red Alert scowled. "Inferno dragged me to bed around three."

"Well good, because I've got enough on my hands with the medbay."

"I thought all the patients were discharged the other day." Red Alert gladly took a seat opposite to Ratchet.

"They were, but then Sideswipe and Sunstreaker decided to spread their own brand of goodwill and cheer around the place."

"What did they do?"

"I woke up this morning to find that they'd glued all my tools to the medbay ceiling and covered the floors in oil and to top it all off, Optimus won't let me kill, maim or turn them into toasters..."

"No, Jazz," snapped Prowl, storming into the commissary. "I do not want to look at holiday pamphlets."

"Just look at this one," Jazz implored. "It's a premium package."

"I said NO!"

"You are so stressed." Prowl shot Jazz a filthy look and stalked off to join Ratchet and Red Alert at their table.

"Morning, Sunshine," Ratchet smirked. It wasn't often one saw Prowl so agitated.

"Morning, Moonlight," Prowl replied sarcastically, taking a seat.

"Is Jazz doing the pamphlet thing again, Prowl?" Red Alert asked once Prowl had calmed down.

"He thinks I'm..."

"Stressed?" Ratchet finished. "I think I can relate."

"I think we all could," sighed Red Alert.

"Who needs a holiday anyway?" muttered Prowl. "It's enough of a circus around here already?"

"Can't argue with that," snorted Ratchet.

"I don't know, Jazz," Optimus commented, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think they'd appreciate the gesture."

"Prime, they need this," Jazz beseeched his leader. "Talk to Ironhide, Wheeljack, First Aid and Inferno. They all agree with me. Wheeljack's even got this nifty invention that allows Transformers to take the form and solidity of humans, and it works."

"I get what you're trying to do, Jazz, really I do, but do you think we could manage the Ark without them?"

"Of course we could. I mean, come on, how hard could it be?" Still Optimus hesitated.

"Pleeeaaassseee, Prime," Jazz all but whined. "I'll be forever in your debt."

"Alright, Jazz, just don't whine, you have my permission."

"And if they refuse?"

"Then it's an order."

"Oh yeah."

"You want us to what?" Prowl questioned, incredulity showing on his face plates.

"Go on a holiday to Thailand, in human form," Optimus explained patiently. "It'll be a chance to de-stress a little, away from reports, patients, security checks and most of all, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." Prowl, Ratchet and Red Alert all looked at each other and then at Optimus and Jazz.

"No."

"Not a chance."

"Not going to happen."

"Is that your final answer?"

"Damn right it is," growled Ratchet.

"Very well then. I'll just order you to instead."

"Excuse me?" exclaimed Red Alert.

"Make no mistake..."

"You're going to Thailand," Jazz finished for Optimus, sounding rather smug as he did.

"Are you sure these aren't going to explode on us, Wheeljack?" Ratchet asked as Red Alert prodded the chunky wrist cuff in his hands suspiciously.

"I'm certain," Wheeljack assured his friend. "Perceptor, Jazz and I have all tested them."

"Can I just say that I think this is really bad idea," said Red Alert, glancing up at the surrounding bots.

"Just think, Red," Inferno rubbed Red Alert's shoulder soothingly, "this time tomorrow you'll be relaxing by a pool in Thailand."

"Somehow I'm not comforted."

"You'll love it, Prowl," Jazz promised, completely ignoring the tactician's murderous gaze.

"I doubt it."

"I admit, seven days without me will probably be a bit of a drag..."

"Just make sure the Ark is still standing when I get back and don't mess up my filing system."

"Come on, Ratch." Ironhide prodded the disgruntled medic. "You can't ignore me forever."

"Watch me."

"Ratchet, you know I love you..."

"Which is why you're shipping me off to Thailand for a week."

"Well into the wash racks you go," Wheeljack announced, cutting through Ironhide and Ratchet's conversation. "We've laid out cloth robes for you to wear once you've transformed."

"Oh joy," Ratchet sneered, stepping around Ironhide and into the wash racks. Prowl and Red Alert reluctantly followed him.

"They're going to freak when they see their forms," said Wheeljack, glancing over at Optimus.

"Probably," Optimus agreed, chuckling a little.

"I wonder what we'll look like," pondered Red Alert.

"As much as I hate to say it," sighed Prowl, "there's only one way to find out."

"I wonder if it's too late to refuse?" muttered Ratchet.

"We already tried that remember?" Red Alert frowned at Ratchet. "It didn't work then, and I'm sure it's not going to work now."

"Well...how bad can the brig be?"

"It has the twins in it," Prowl reminded him.

"Damn."

"Would you three hurry it up in there," yelled Jazz from the other side of the wash racks. "We haven't got all day."

"Zip it, Jazz," Ratchet yelled back.

"Let's just get this over with," groaned Prowl, rubbing his forehead, "but I will say this, if I ever get through this, Jazz won't be getting any interfaces for a month."

"I'll drink to that," mumbled Ratchet, offlining his optics. Prowl and Red Alert followed suit and then as one, the three of them clasped the cuffs around their wrists.

The first thing Prowl became aware of as he returned to himself was the vast size of the washracks. He realised, of course, that he was seeing the world from a human's perspective for the first time in his life. Then reality struck. He had breasts.

Prowl yanked on the robe that lay at his feet and tied it shut. He vaguely became aware of the long locks of red hair spilling over his shoulders and down his back. He then glanced down at his significantly smaller body and touched his lips. Prowl was distinctly female.

"Prowl?" a soft voice sounded from behind him. Prowl turned around and quickly averted his eyes from Red Alert's naked form.

"Put this on," he said, keeping his eyes fixed to the ceiling as he handed the security director a spare robe. Once Red Alert was fully covered, Prowl looked him over. The security director had a female form as well and red hair that fell around his shoulders.

From the ground, Ratchet groaned and sat up, placing a hand on his head. Prowl and Red Alert exchanged glances. Ratchet was female just like them, but his hair was black and curly, rather than red and straight.

Ratchet stared down at his hand, touched his hair again and then looked up at Prowl and Red Alert. Prowl handed him the last robe, and Ratchet pulled it on over his body

"This wasn't part of the plan," despaired Red Alert. Gritting his teeth, Ratchet got to his feet, bluntly addressing Prowl. "They had to have known."

Prowl stared at Ratchet for a moment before yelling out, "JAZZ!"

"Fix this," snarled Ratchet, craning his neck to look up at Wheeljack."

"Sorry, Ratchet." Wheeljack shrugged apologetically. "No can do, Prime and Jazz's orders."

"But we didn't agree to this," Red Alert cried out.

"Actually," snickered Jazz, "you did."

"What do you mean we did?" Prowl hissed, impatiently brushing his long hair out of his eyes.

"We said that you'd be going to Thailand as humans, but it was you who failed to specify the gender you wanted."

"Failed to specify," spluttered Ratchet. "You didn't tell us we had to."

"We didn't? My bad."

"Scratch one month," growled Prowl. "I'm making it two."