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Showgirls	By : Ozphoenix Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 1968 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Showgirls
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Transformers owned by Hasbro, not me.

Showgirls

By Phoenix

Optimus Prime stared at his Second-in-command, Aerial defense officer and Lieutenant.

“Come on Optimus, it’ll be fun!” Springer insisted.

Prime locked his disbelieving gaze on Springer, “What? You’re joking. Really. Elita will kill me! And then resurrect me and do it all over again! Besides, what do I need with a stripper show?”.

Hot Rod chuckled, “The same thing we do. A chance to get away from the nagging girlfriends and perve on some femmes.”

Optimus rubbed his chin, “You’ve got a point there,” he sighed, thinking he’d said ‘no’ to his friends once too often, “alright, I’ll go. As long as we don’t stay all night and if it gets *too* raunchy or dangerous, we leave. Ok?”

Ultra Magnus looked surprised, “Dangerous? Whats dangerous about a stripper show?”

Prime smiled under his mask, “You haven’t been to many shows have you, Mags.”

“A few,” the city commander looked embarrassed, not wanting to discuss it.

Springer spoke up, “Hey, whatever it is, I’m sure the three of us -”

“Ahem!”

“Opps, sorry Hot Rod, *four* of us, can handle it. Who’s going to take on Prime and Magnus together anyway? They’d have to be crazy,” Springer grinned.

“There a lot of crazy people around…” Prime muttered.

Optimus rose from behind his desk, “Lets go,” he said resignedly, “we’ll have to think up a suitable excuse for our disappearance though.”

“Tell them its a joyride. For the femmes safety, and our own, they don’t have to know anymore than that,” Hot Rod smirked.

*********************************

“Where are you going?” Arcee repeated herself, her arms across her chest and her back rigid. She knew something was up, she just didn’t know what.

“Out for a little male bonding, ‘Cee. Nothing to worry about, we’ll be back before morning,”

“MORNING? Where the hell are you going? And whats this ‘male bonding’ crap? If you really want to do that sissy stuff, go and dance naked in the forest and cover yourselves with mud,” Arcee demanded, her optics narrowing.

Springer evaded her question, “Look, Optimus and Mags are coming too, and you know those two killjoys wouldn’t let us do anything bad or destructive of the Autobot image.”

“Bad? Destructive??”

“Well, y’know, *bad*....um....” Springer groped for a good explanation. She obviously wasn’t buying the ‘male bonding’ bit. He decided to go for the ‘I love you so let me go’ routine.

“Cee, trust me. I’m going; we’re going; and there won’t be any horrible, nasty consequences for you to deal with. Can you let me have a bit of time by myself? You go out with the other femmes, so now its my turn. Me and the guys are going out. Please?” he looked at her with love-lorn puppybot optics. Arcee looked shrewdly back, her mouth pursed, trying not to let herself get sucked in. She couldn’t stand it.

“Alright, you can go,” Springer smiled at her, “BUT - you come home drunk or injured, you clean it up yourself and don’t expect any sympathy from me,” she warned.

“Never,” Springer murmured, embracing her and kissing her warmly, “thanks babe.”

************************************

Barely twenty minutes later, the party of boys were sitting pretty in a shuttle gliding its way to a remote star system.

“God its good to be out,” Springer groaned, leaning back in the pilots chair and stretching his legs.

“Mmm,” Optimus sat next to him, his arms crossed and optics starring out the front viewscreen. He was worrying about what Elita would do to him when he got back. He wished he hadn’t come along.

Springer glanced at his leader, “Have much trouble with Miss Femme Commander?” he asked lightly.

“No,” Optimus replied, giving Springer an evil look for the taunt.

“Really? I don’t believe it.”

“Uh.....I didn’t actually tell her....” Prime murmured, gazing at the floor.

“You what?”

“I left a message on her email saying I was going out and wouldn’t be back till late,” Optimus said, trying to sound relaxed about it.

“I always admired your courage. You silly buggar, she’s going to kill you.”

“Uh huh,” Prime said mournfully, “she would have killed me *before* I left if she knew where we were going, so I figured, whats the difference? At least I get to have some fun before I die.”

“Wise choice.”

Optimus nodded, “Mmm.”

Hot Rod walked up behind the pair, leaning on the back of Springer’s seat, “Hey, I don’t have a femme to worry about,” he smirked, “does this mean I’m the one who gets to poke the credit down the strippers g-string?”

“You’ll be lucky,” Prime muttered.

“Lucky to what?” Magnus wanted to know, returning from programming the ships computer with their destination and dumping his butt into one of the passenger chairs.

“Hot Rod wants to feel up the stripper,” Springer informed him.

Magnus grinned, raising an optic at Hot Rod, “You better ask Springer about what happened to him the last time he did that.”

“Aww, Mags! Leave it out,” Springer groaned.

“Huh? He did? And what happened?” Hot Rod demanded to know.

Optimus sighed and raised his optics to the ceiling, “Here we go again.”

Magnus chuckled while the hapless Springer covered his hands over his face, “Well, the femme took grievance to Springers affections and taught him a new self defense maneuver. The old knee-in-the-groin strategy.”

“Yeah, so? Springer’s tough, I’m sure he didn’t blink.”

Magnus smiled wryly, “Normally yes, but this femme was from the planet Memtec.”

Hot Rod’s mouth formed an ‘O’. Optimus stifled a laugh.

Memtec was the home of the most ferocious, toughest, strongest females in the universe. They appeared charming, beautiful and gracious until they got upset. Then it became time to run.....and run *fast*......

“Springer hobbled home very delicately that night,” Magnus finished.

“And I didn’t even get my credit back,” Springer grumbled.

“You were going to reach back down there to get it??” Hot Rod asked in confusion.

“You bet he was, until I dragged him out of there for his own safety,” Magnus laughed.

“You’re a spoilsport, Mags,” Springer shot back.

“Yep. Definitely. There was enough of you to clean up as it was!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure,” Springer pouted, “I can tell some *great* stories about you, y’know. I’m sure Nixie would *love* to hear them.....” he trailed off at Magnus’ horrified look.

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would. Do you still get comlink calls from that femme stripper you met at the ACF bar? She seemed very devoted to you...” the triple changer grinned sadistically, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

Magnus scowled heavily, “There was NOTHING going on.”

Optimus looked curiously between his Aerial Defense Commander and his Second-in-command.

“Whats this? What did you do, Magnus?” Prime thought he knew his friend as being very mild-mannered and conscientious, after knowing him for hundreds of years. Apparently, Springer knew more than he did.

“Forget it,” Magnus grumbled, staring out the view port and not meeting Prime’s gaze. Optimus shrugged, he could always ask later.

*************************************

The motley group of Autobots arrived on the planet, ‘Vortaag’, piling out of the shuttle and gathering around the cooling engines.

“Where to now?” Optimus asked, warily looking around at the very sleazy inhabitants and the grey, thick pollution that hung in the air. He wasn’t impressed. This obviously wasn’t a Class 1 planet. In fact, he didn’t think there was a class on the planet list suitable for it.

Springer pondered for a moment, “Follow me, it isn’t far, and no rifles,” he warned, setting off out of the shuttle port and onto the main streets of the city, the others following along behind him with mixed expressions.

*************************************

“Where is he?” Elita demanded, hands gripping the back of the couch and her face a determined scowl. Arcee pursed her lips and shook her head. Phoenix raised her hands and looked innocent, “I have no idea. Mags wouldn’t say a thing either. You know as much as I do.”

Elita looked even more unhappy, if it were possible. Arcee sighed, “Look, they’ve gone off to indulge in some ‘male stuff’. Thats all I know. Springer was quite adamant that I let him go.....”

“Optimus didn’t say a *word* to me,” the femme commander glared, “I only got a short, shitty, email saying he was going out with friends and would be back in the morning. What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she fumed, her fingers digging into the unfortunate chair.

“He’s a grown bot, ‘Lita, he’ll be okay,” Arcee tried to console her.

“Oh no he won’t, he’s in big trouble when he gets back....” Elita warned.

“How can the Autobot Commander get in trouble? I mean, he’s the boss,” Arcee pondered jokingly.

“Where do you think they might of gone, ‘Lita?” Phoenix asked, “It can’t be far, and what trouble could they get into anyway?”

“Lots,” Elita grumped, dropping into a chair, “from past experience, when our mates come home, they’ll have the intergalactic police arriving after them, waving warrants for their immediate arrest, as well as many other hangers on demanding money for ‘services rendered’.”

Now Phoenix looked worried, “What? Really?”

“Really,” Elita smiled sourly, “I’ve been through this before. They’ve gone to do one of three things, or all three, come to think of it. Get drunk, get into trouble, and go to a ‘club’.”

“What kind of club?” Phoenix asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer or not.

“A female club. Strippers, dancers, ......that kind of thing.”

“What the !&*$@!#!!!!”

“Exactly.”

“We’re going after them!!!” Phoenix leapt up from her chair, her hands clenching by her sides and her wings extending out from her back, small tremors making the tips shake.

Elita shook her head, “No Nix, we won’t find them, and we’ll only make it worse if we go. Wait till they get home *then* tear strips off them. Believe me, it works out better that way.”

Phoenix darted a look at Arcee for support, but she too shook her head, a baleful expression on her face. The crimson femme growled and stomped out of the room in very unladylike fashion. Elita frowning for a second then following.

***************************************

“This is insane,” Optimus Prime muttered to nobody in particular, staring around the large, muggy room filled with rowdy, uncouth males of every species - and some Prime couldn’t even begin to describe. He saw a few Cybertronians and other inorganic races and was surprised to see a few females lurking around. Femmes of the type that wouldn’t take it kindly if you pinched their bottom.

Springer seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, grinning from audio to audio and his optics searching for something around the room. His optics lit up when they found their objective.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a sec,” the triple changer darted across the room, aiming for a petite femme passing out drinks at the bar. Optimus glanced questioningly at Magnus who shrugged and looked as confused as he did. Hot Rod was awestruck, his CPU approaching overload at what was going on around him. And the stripping hadn’t even started yet.

A few girls of uncertain planetary origin but definite certain attractiveness in the physique department; were parading around the stage that ran around the room in a semi-circle. They were clad (or unclad) in stringy, lithe garments that displayed their particular skill at gyrating and swanning around with great enthusiasm. Occasionally a garment would slip off one of the ‘girls’ and they made no move to put it back on, drawing leering cheers from the capacity crowd.

One of the girls stopped to do a fancy twirl right in front of the innocent Hot Rod. Her demure shirt slipped off her shoulders and ended up on the floor.

“Is he too young for this?” Magnus asked hopefully as Hot Rod’s jaw swung down somewhere near his belly.

“No,” Optimus sighed, trying to see what Springer was getting up to through the dense smog.

“You’re too young for this,” Magnus accused Hot Rod anyway.

The entranced Autobot paid no attention. Magnus himself tried not to look too closely at the gorgeous curvy femme prostrating herself in front of him on the stage – he had his own femme at home to make optics at; but still, who couldn’t help but look and get hard at such a sexy display? He glanced sideways at Optimus and cast a furtive look at his lower armor. Yup, he wasn’t the only one getting rigid. Phoenix was gonna kill him. That was a given.

*****************************

“Phoenix, STOP!” Elita’s yell was hard to hear over the roar of the shuttle’s engines. Phoenix had already threatened Blaster with a drawn and humming rifle to find out the exact co-ordinates of where the guys had gone to. Her grim visage was enough to convince Lita that Phoenix was not going to stop. Swearing, she grabbed the shuttle door as it started to close and hauled her ass inside. She supposed she could just as well drag Optimus’ ass home at the same time Phoenix lugged Magnus home for some punishment.

Elita remembered far too well the way Phoenix had reacted to being informed one of Magnus’ ex-girlfriends was coming to Metroplex purely on a conference visit – Kup had forcefully snatched her weapons and locked her up in the brig for a few hours. They’d taken seriously her threats of killing the poor alien femme. The force-field on the cell had refused to work ever since after that little episode.

The red winged femme turned abruptly in her seat and stared at the Femme Commander with a hard emotionless expression. Oh no. She wasn’t sure if Magnus would survive this bad case of female jealousy.

“Shut up and sit down,” Phoenix spat, turning back to pilot the shuttle out of the atmosphere and on course.

“Uh huh.” Elita sat, thinking up her own ways of making Prime pay. Withholding interface rights always worked well, until she couldn’t stop herself leering at young, new mech recruits behind their backs. When she got to the panting stage she knew it was time to give in.

********************************

Hot Rod sat hypnotised with his folded arms resting on the elevated runway the strippers were using, his chin neatly snuggled into the crook of his wrist so that his line-of-sight was straight up between the legs of the dancing and pouting alien femmes. Optimus frowned and considered telling him to sit back, but since some of the femmes wore no crotch coverings and were stopping and crouching in front of Roddy with spread knees, he supposed it wouldn’t make much difference.

A human-looking alien female with deep blue skin who was the proud owner of the hugest breasts Optimus had ever seen paused on the runway to do an erotic little swirl and beckon him with one hand. (At least she’s got a crotch covering,) an embarrassed Optimus thought to himself, trying to pretend he wasn’t interested. He re-evaluated that thought when she got closer and he was able to see those panties had no material between the legs.

Springer was cajoling a bemused Magnus for more credits to shove down the femmes pants (those that had any), while keeping an appreciative leer on the blue femme in front of Prime.

“C’mon Mags, she’s a nice one, 40 creds?”

“Nope.”

“Hmmm. Don’t you appreciate females with assets like *that*?” Springer exclaimed, pointing at the femme’s wobbling pair of massive mammaries. “She’s gotta be worth 20! Thats not too much to borrow, is it? You just got a pay rise anyway.” Springer looked like a hopeful puppy; strange considering he was a huge, metallic, and muscular male. Magnus squashed that puppy thought and decided to lay off the drinks for a while.

“What about I give you 10 and I get to say which body part you put them in?” Magnus suggested, crossing his arms and leaning back indulgently in his chair. Springer took a gulp of his drink and gave him a thoughtful look – and then started to choke. Magnus watched him concernedly.

“You won’t HAVE any body parts left for him to shove credits into – MAGNUS.”

(Oh crap.) Magnus froze in his chair, not needing to look behind him to see who the voice belonged to. Springer gaped, then started to giggle.

The two femmes glared with such intensity Optimus was wondering which one was worse. Elita One stood to the side of his chair, hands on hips, with frigid optics – Phoenix was actively scowling (Prime was sure she was also hissing, but the noise of the club crowd made him unsure). The winged femme’s hands were clenched and held out as she walked around the huge form of her mate at the table and leaned over to growl in his face, “We are leaving. Now.” The red colour of her paint scheme seemed much more menacing and un-ladylike than usual to Magnus in the shifty lighting.

“Umm, o-okay....” Magnus ungraciously stood up, cursing the one-too-many drinks which made his CPU too stuffed to think of a good argument and darted a glance at Optimus and Elita who were having their own stand-off.

“Why did you come here? You *know* what happened last time, and you also know I only forgave you after much punishment and because you were relatively young,” Elita narrowed her optics and folded her arms, “well, after several million years you are NOT young now,” she finished grimly. Prime’s optics crinkled which made Magnus quite sure he was wearing a painful expression behind his mask.

The blue femme on the catwalk who had been taunting Optimus hunched down to add her bit to the conversation, “Hey, lay off, these guys have been among the best behaved and easy spending audience I’ve had in a while, so give’em a break, huh?”
The way she bent down made her uncovered substantial breasts swing forward wildly, their dark pouting nipples pointing accusingly outwards.

Elita eyed her, “I have nothing against your profession, but this mech is taken, and I firmly believe attached mech’s should stay away from places like these.”

“Oh, I agree with that totally!” Phoenix hissed, pushing Magnus around so he was facing AWAY from what was happening on the catwalk, but he still gawked over his shoulder.

“I’m not attached.” Hot Rod said expectantly. Springer sat back in his seat, grinning, glad his femme was intelligent and kind enough not to try and spoil his fun like Phoenix and Elita were doing to their mates. Of course, that didn’t mean Arcee wasn’t going to use some form of cruel punishment, she was just a lot more subtle.

“You’re attached Springer, you’re leaving too,” Phoenix demanded.

“And I don’t think its a good idea for *former* Autobot Commanders to be in a place like this,” Elita added to Hot Rod.

Springer frowned, not happy with the way the two bossy femmes were corrupting his evening, “Nix, with some new skimpy armor and a whip you’d look good up there too.”

Phoenix stopped from harassing Magnus along and jerked around, “WHAT!!”

Magnus looked bewildered for a second at the remark about his partner, and then started chuckling. Optimus thought the whole thing was turning into a joke of an evening and watched his City Commander closely. That wasn’t right. Magnus never got drunk - and laughing at someone’s crack about Phoenix? Strange.

“Oh god,” Elita covered her optics with one hand, “I was waiting for a Springer remark like that.”

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK~!” Phoenix yelled, wings puffed up and leaping chairs to lay a punch on the leering green triple changer.

Springer grinned and ducked behind Optimus, “Nope! You’ve just become my entertainment for the evening, Nix!”

By now the femmes on display had mostly stopped to view the fighting. Some males in the audience were grumbling loudly about the disruption, but there was one small group of Cybertronian-bred robots without Decep or Autobot markings who were watching with very interested optics. The chaos caused by a screaming Phoenix , a running Springer and a huge immovable object called Magnus had them very excited. One of the group opened a small panel on his arm and removed a tiny digi-vid camera.........

Springer did several laps of the room, evading Phoenix’s lunges and swipes. On the fifth lap he decided he’d had enough exercise. “MAGNUS! Get her offa me!” he panted as he dodged past Magnus. The others stood in a group and watched the entertainment, except Hot Rod who was trying to get the huge-boobed stripper to start twirling around her dancing pole again.

Ultra Magnus grinned at him, “Why? If she’s occupied with you, she won’t be occupied with yelling at ME.”

“MAGNUS~!!!” Springer cried, getting desperate.

Magnus looked resigned, “Oh, alright,” he reached out and snagged a hand onto Phoenix’s back where her wings were joined. She was hoisted up into the air, still yelling obscenities at Springer, her hands vainly trying to claw at him.

Elita One decided it was time to leave the club before the guys (and screaming Phoenix) caused any more commotion. She got them rounded up and hustled out like a school teacher with her flock of kids.

********************************

Optimus watched the stand-off of Phoenix and Magnus with amazement. They had all left the club and headed to various ships for transport home. Phoenix had turned her prickly wrath on the unfortunate Magnus and while he had stoically accepted most of her ranting, he had drawn the line when she stated she’d get the Intergalactic Police to raid the place and shut it down.

Magnus had retaliated that there was nothing wrong with femmes stripping if they chose to do it for a reasonable living and they shouldn’t be set on by the police. That had been it. Phoenix drew his wrists behind his back and had them cuffed together in a microsecond. It had taken him a few seconds to realise what she’d done.

Magnus was now standing tall (which was very tall) and growling at his bonded partner – who equally was hissing back and balancing on her tiptoes with rifle clenched in one hand while the other made a fist and prepared to deliver a few blows. Elita standing next to Prime, simply sighed and smiled wistfully at the battle of young love.

“Get in the shuttle, MAGNUS!” Phoenix scowled harshly.

“Remove the cuffs before I break them and start whipping your *ass*, PHOENIX!” Magnus snarled back.

Elita grinned at the way the cuffs aounrd Magnus’ wrists were creaking under the intolerable strain.

“Well then, why don’t I go back and fetch you one of those young bitches to play with, I’m sure they’ve got good whips - SIR!” The femme drew back her fist and launched, Magnus ducked the blow and shot out a leg to trip over the fuming femme. Phoenix stumbled over it but managed not to go down – Magnus’ shoulder in her thigh was what did that. She shrieked and fell in the dirt. Immediately, Magnus threw himself on top her and sat down straddling hips, pinning her flat. His bulging crotch pressed into her suggestively. She squirmed and screeched several swear words in forbidden languages making Optimus wince and Elita giggle.

Magnus’ face was like thunder. Elita moved to intervene when the City Commander’s expression changed unexpectedly to something like a leer. He bent down so his face was inches from his femmes, “I’ve still got my hard-on, sweetie, and you’re making it harder.”

Elita laughed while the Autobot Commander gaped. Phoenix stopped struggling and growled up at her mate, her fingers digging into his shoulders, “You’re as bad as Springer. Crass and rude. Now get your heavy ass off me before I – umph!!!” She was cut off by the way he dropped his mouth down on hers and proceeded to kiss with abandon. She screamed once in defiance, but then there was only silence followed by a long whining moan of need from the flattened femme.

The cuffs suddenly cracked and the pieces fell to the ground while the couple ignored everything else and groped each other crazily. Phoenix swiped off Magnus' codpiece and flung it so it rebounded off the side of the shuttle.

“In the shuttle, in the shuttle!” Prime hurried Elita inside the transport when it became clear the two weren’t going to stop, despite her protests of wanting to ‘watch’.

Elita swung around with her hands on her hips as the door closed, “Primus, Optimus, you’re a spoilsport! If they want to do that in public I don’t see why we can’t watch!”

Optimus looked thoughtful, then smiled behind his faceplate, “Yes, but if they’re out there, and we lock the door in here…….” He waggled his fingers suggestively.

Elita cocked her head to the side and narrowed her optics lustfully at the scream from Phoenix outside – and it wasn’t an angry scream either. Dammit, she wanted to be screaming like that when Prime made *her* come.

“Then we’d better hurry,” she inched her arms around his neck and purred up at him, “from the sound of that scream I’d say Phoenix is finished already.”

“Are we out of cuffs?” Prime asked.

“No, I always keep our *personal* set handy….” The shining chrome flashed as the restraints appeared from her subspace pocket.

The knocking at the door a few moments later was studiously ignored by the amorous ‘bots inside…..

END!
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Showgirls