Groggy, and on the receiving end of a pounding helmache, Bulkhead, unaware the Transfiguration Disc scanned a sample of Antauri's fur, and turned him into a techno-organic cat, slowly, but surely rose to his paws, and stood on unsteady legs.
Looking behind him to see if Miko, and Antauri were ok, Bulkhead blinked in confusion.
Either he shrunk to the height of the human femmeling's doll, or Autobot Outpost Omega One's rec room grew tenfold in size, Miko's ruddy, five month old, Somali kitten was curled up by a black, orange, and white Calico, and he had the tail a cat would have unless the cat in question was a Manx, Japanese Bobtail, part Manx, part Japanese Bobtail, or lost its tail to amputation, or an unfortunate accident.
It was long, black, and fluffy.
Surveying the rest of himself, Bulkhead learned he, from his Audio Sensors, to the tip of his tail, was covered in black, long, and fluffy fur.
Beginning to stir, Miko saw no harm had come to Antauri, and a black Maine Coon was staring at her.
"Bulkhead?" Miko murmured, sitting up. "That you?"
"Ya Miko, it's me." Bulkhead muttered hoping his current frame was a temporary one. "You, and Antauri ok?"
Attempting standing up, Miko steadied herself before she fell over. "I think so."
Her first attempt at standing up a success, Miko boasted too soon. "I got this in the bag."
Learning how to walk was not as easy as standing up was.
Albeit unwittingly, Miko smacked the back of her helm with her tail, and fell flat on her face.
Not one to give up in the face of adversity, Miko tried again.
True, Miko fell flat on her face a second time, but she did manage to get a few steps in before she did.
"You can do it Miko." Bulkhead spoke encouragingly. "A little more practice, and you'll be walking in no time at all."
"Thanks." Miko blushed. "Why don't you give learning how to walk a try?"
"Don't see why not." Bulkhead reasoned. "Now is a better time than any."
Taking a deep intake, Bulkhead took a hesitant step forward.
A silver, and black blur streaking by, Bulkhead wisely sat down to avoid the said blur crashing into him.
The same could not be said for the none too pleased, sable Burmese the striped tabby crashed helm first into.
"Sorry." Smokescreen sheepishly grinned. "On second thought, no, I am not sorry."
"Can you get off of me already?!" Ratchet seethed. "And maybe, I don't know, slow the frag down?!"
Autobot Outpost Omega One is not a race track!"
"Don't you mean Autocat Scratchingpost Omeowga One." Smokescreen laughed, nibbling on Ratchet's twitching Audio Sensors.
Admitting defeat, Ratchet scowled. "Sometimes I swear you are worse than Bumblebee."
"Speaking of my twin brother," Smokescreen beamed mischievously. "Here he comes in all his split spark, baby blue optics, orange fur, dark ginger stripes, tabby glory."
"Lovely." Ratchet grumbled. "Why don't you leave me alone, and bother him for a change."
"Gladly." Smokescreen prying himself off of Ratchet chirped.
Starting a wrestling match, Smokescreen pinned Bumblebee. "Unlike you, Bumblebee knows how to kick back, and have fun."
"I know how to kick back, and have fun." Ratchet retorted trying to figure out how his new frame worked.
"Sure you do." Bumblebee teased wriggling out from underneath Smokescreen.
Shocked beyond belief, Antauri, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Miko, and Smokescreen, still as statues, stared at Bumblebee in shock.
A grey, Norwegian Forest cat new to the scene, and the first to speak up, Optimus, tears of joy pooling in his optics all but whispered. "Bumblebee, am I dreaming?
Or is your voice truly back?"
Stellar cycles of regret creeping up on him, Ratchet approached Bumblebee, tilted his helm upward, and felt for a long, jagged scar.
Finding no trace of the scar he was looking for, Ratchet backed away from Bumblebee, and paced.
"H-how." Ratchet stuttered. "It's like you never lost your voice at all."
"Don't know, and don't care." Bumblebee gloated matter of factly. "All that matters is I got my voice back, and won't lose it to Megatron, or any Decepticon ever again."
"As your sire, I hope you never do." Optimus, grooming the fur between Bumblebee's Audio Sensors confessed. "Your voice has been silent for far too long, and deserves to be heard."
Enjoying Optimus' oddly soothing, undivided attention, Bumblebee tidied up the patches of ruffled fur on his front legs, and purred contentedly.
"Ahem." Smokescreen coughed, feigning jealousy. "Not to ruin the touching moment, but last I checked, Bumblebee isn't your only youngling."
His fur groomed to a satisfactory level, Bumblebee eager to find Raf, scampered off in the direction of the room he had last seen him in.
Playfully giving Smokescreen a stern glare, Optimus reminisced about orns gone by. "You better behave, or I won't groom your fur."
"You wouldn't." Smokescreen scoffed.
"I would." Optimus commented knowingly. "Compared to Bumblebee, and his sparklinghood fear of getting soap in his optics, you were the one I had the hardest time bathing.
Positioning himself to where he was sprawled out, and his helm was cradled in his front legs Smokescreen huffed indignantly. "Can you blame me?
Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe told me the drain monster wanted to eat me, and to not tell anyone I knew about Xerox, or he would eat them.
Having no reason not to, and afraid Xerox would, I believed them, and didn't tell anyone about him."
"I suppose not." Optimus replied. "Though I was not able to prove my suspicions right, I knew the Terror were at fault, and might have done, or said something to you that could have caused you to fear taking oil baths."
"And showers." Smokescreen added comically. "Don't forget showers."
Licking unkempt strands of fur on the top of Smokescreen's helm into place, Optimus winced. "Never can I forget the many times I got in an oil tub with you, and you took a shower with me until you were three stellar cycles old.
You punched me, kicked me, sometimes in my family jewels, screamed at the top of your vents, threw bath toys, and bottles of soap, and bubble bath at me, flew into full blown temper tantrums the likes I have never seen, splashed bubbles, and oil in all directions, soaked countless towels, and washcloths, climbed out of the tub, escaped the shower, and left trails of soapy, slippery, pedeprints in your wake."
"A little to the left please." Smokescreen purred softly. "I have an itch, and don't feel like scratching it myself."
Complying with Smokescreen's request, Optimus licked the area between Smokescreen's helm, and Audio Sensor.
The itch scratched, Smokescreen sighed. "Now I get why Bumblebee liked you grooming his fur so much."