A/N: I guess it happens to most people eventually. The condition is not usually fatal...

Humanity: It Happens

The following is a completely true story. Or, true inasmuch as anything half-imagined can be.

I woke up from a nap, looked blearily across the room, gasped, and lurched down the stairs. "Help!" I said, grabbing Ironhide by the shoulders. "Megatron's turned human and I can't vouch for my behavior!"

He looked up from the World of Warcraft with the expression of a longsuffering husband who finds his wife's insanity mildly amusing, yet interminably persistent.

I then proceeded to relate to him the following events as they transpired. He listened, and interjected his own comments and observations. I love Ironhide forever.

I'd woken up to see that both Megatron and Starscream had inexplicably assumed human shape, and both were sort of staring at me. Megatron was absolutely disgusted. He stood in awkward stiffness, arms and legs held apart, as if he could not bear to let any part touch any other part, because he'd have to feel it. Starscream, on the other hand...

Just after I'd tumbled down the stairs, Starscream pelted headlong after me. He was throwing his clothes off as he went, and yipping a wordless, joyful cry of freedom. He flung open the door, tore out onto the front lawn, and proceeded to roll naked in the freshly-mown grass.

Yeah... I shut the door and pretended not to know him. Last I heard, he was squeebling something about how he'd "Never felt so aliiive...!"

(You might think that I found this somewhat shocking. But I live in a house full of naked men. Or man-singular and boys-plural, anyway. I have become immune to male anatomy.)

While all of this was going on, Megatron came gingerly down, still trying not to let any part of his body touch any other part. I turned to see him standing just behind me (as is his wont). He was GLOWERING.

"Why did you imagine me so short?" he demanded.

I burst out laughing. Of course he was, as always, exactly as tall as I am. (This is an important point of honor between Me-Prime and Megs.) 'Exactly as tall as I a'm equals an extremely paltry 5'2". Or 5-foot-one-and-three-quarters, if I'm being totally honest. And there was Megatron, extremely honest in his height (or lack thereof), looking extremely pained by this whole escapade.

I'm not that good at visual imagining. But I seem to recall salt-and-pepper hair, longish and curly, but not hanging to the shoulders. A severe dark gray sportcoat (off the rack, not tailored to him; so it hung a little long and loose). Dark blue jeans. (He hated the way the stiff denim felt against his legs, which is why I know there were jeans.) In build, he was thickish, tough but soft at the edges, with just a hint of pudge around the middle. He is, in human years after all, in his late-50's. He could have pushed a truck a half a mile by himself, but he would not have impressed the guys at the local gym. Not those who didn't know what they were looking at, at any rate.

I would have laughed and hugged him, but that would have squicked him irredeemably.

So yeah – despite my first "Uh-oh!" response, there was never any real danger of imagined marital infidelity. We are, irreconcilably, two different species. VERY different species. Megatron quickly got bored watching me and Ironhide talk about World of Warcraft, and faded in a huff (but with immense relief!), back to his usual robotic dimension.

Starscream, on the other hand...
Oh, Starscream!

He was picked up by an ambulance, after neighbors called the cops about the crazy naked man in the front yard. There, I imagine, he found a cute EMT or other passing female, and proceeded to make much hay while the sun shone. I don't believe it even took too much persuading. See, Starscream has the "Baby Bird Syndrome" in SPADES. (This is the condition where the male has some pitiful backstory or hidden emotional pain, which elicits an instinctual desire on the part of the female to take him home and make him better [and hug him and love him and name him George]. It is nearly impossible to resist. Trust me on this. *facepalm*)

I had (for months) some guilt about releasing this sex machine out into Mormondom. After all, we're not supposed to frolic around with everyone we meet. But I reminded myself that they all made their own decisions; and it was out of my hands in any case, since I had no idea where he was. I suppose I should have seen it coming, and hauled him back inside by the scruff of his scrawny neck. But I'd hate to deny him his one day of freelove.

When he finally did return, it was in someone else's scrubs, with a ridiculous, irrepressible grin on his face. I'm not sure where he found them all, but he seemed to have found plenty of willing and able partners.

("But I thought you said he was gay?" I hear you asking. Yes, as a transformer, he's after a mech bondmate. But humans work differently. And all he knows of frolicking is what he's gleaned from Ironhide and I when I was too slow in kicking him out of the bedroom. He'd probably take anyone who came along, regardless of their gender; but he's more of a draw to girls. They would positively swarm him. I mean, they do already. Look at fanfiction.)

I just hope he didn't break too many hearts. Or, Primus forfend, father any children. Can you imagine? A kid with that heritage would make Seth look positively TAME! (Although I could see the mother having secret glee as she watched her progeny tear through the world.) I still wonder what happened during all those hours he was gone. He was out 'Baby-Birding' until late that night.

In case anyone is interested, Human!Starscream has black curly hair about an inch or two long, a long lean body with a runner's musculature, and wide mouth with a wicked grin. His features are sharp, his nose is longish, and it's hard to tell his age – he acts 18, but his wind-burned skin suggests he's probably as much as 20 years older than that. I do not know – I did not have much conversation with the silly man-boy other than to ask him sternly, hands-on-hips, "I take it you had fun?"

He only grinned, and faded sighing into utterly sated dissolution.

Silly, silly, silly robots!

How I love them!