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Market Commodity	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 11586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own the Transformers, am not making anything from this story.

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**Winner’s Luck Pt 3**

**Double Trouble Pt 2**

**A “Market Commodity” Story**
**By TurtleDreamer**
**G1 Universe**

Disclaimer: Transformers is not owned by me. “Market Commodity” idea is by StSe. I’m just fortunate enough to get to play in their universes. I don’t own any copyrighted, registered, or trademarked items that may be mentioned in this story.

Thank you, StSe, for the original concept, beta reading and encouragement. Also, thanks for letting me bend the rules for the start of my story. My plot bunny loves you.

Author’s Note: I’ve edited DTPt2 to bring it consistent with later, more developed chapters. I fixed formatting where needed, and added some detail that meshes better with the story that ended up developing. Hopefully, I managed to catch all spelling and grammatical errors. Thanks for reading.

**

The question of “what in the hell?” was still prevalent in Hope’s mind, as she dug through the crates in search of the owner’s manuals. Less than five minutes had proven that a mistake had been made.

“//Do ya think we broke her, already?//” Frenzy asked on his and Rumble’s personal com frequency.

Rumble had frozen in mid-gyrate. The human had stalked past him, without a second glance. That wasn’t quite the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“//I dunno, Z. Wasn’t she suppose to rip her clothes off and throw herself at us?//” Rumble asked in confusion. “//That’s what the females in that porno did.//”

“//Yeah, they were all over those Ramjet and Dirge clones, and those fraggin’ coneheads ain’t near as good-lookin’ as we are.//” Frenzy puffed himself up.

“//Maybe we oughta try something else.//” Rumble offered, searching his meta for the files they’d hacked from their doppelgangers.

The pair had been interfacing mainly with each other. Their only other contact being the indirect kind received while they were stowed away in Soundwave’s chest compartment. That was only if Soundwave’s partner allowed them to stay. While it was sufficient for the needs of their Cassetticon brethren, Rumble and Frenzy wanted more. Unfortunately, they found themselves continually on the receiving end of rejection, as the other warriors were put off by their diminutive size. Skywarp had once commented, “Even if your alt-modes were dildo’s—I’d still be too disgusted to use you.”

With no other prospects, Rumble and Frenzy had begun to stalk the smaller Autobots. After a rather painful—for Rumble—encounter, Eject and Rewind were crossed off the list. Rumble and Frenzy soon learned that the wily mini-bots were just too much trouble. The cassettes had gotten a hold of Bumblebee—once. He’d played “helpless” just long enough for them to be caught with their bonding cables out. They hadn’t been aware of Windcharger’s approach, until he’d magnetized them, reversing polarities so that they had repeatedly slammed into one another. As they lay dented and scraped on the ground, Bumblebee had left his tire marks on their chassis’ as a parting gift. “LOSERS!” the Autodorks yelled as they drove off laughing raucously.

The relative peace of the Decepticon’s current business venture had brought on a bout of boredom, which had chafed at the young cassettes. The nature of that business, however, had intrigued them.

“The fleshies want to interface with us?” Frenzy had giggled.

Rumble had stood there with his mouth hanging open, “How would that work without us squishing ‘em? Do they even have the right parts?”

Finding out that the clones were comparable in size to themselves, Rumble and Frenzy began to get really excited about other possibilities for fun. After doing further research, they were amazed to find that there were enough similarities, with the human anatomy, to be—as the fleshies put it—close enough for jazz. While the clones were painstakingly exact miniature replicas, they were only slightly modified for use by humans. For example, mineral oil was a much more suitable lubricant for human contact, than the one utilized by the Cybertronians.

After they had watched some very—interesting—erotica involving clones and humans, Rumble had exclaimed, “Wow, Z…we need to get one of these clones!”

“Request: Denied.” Soundwave had replied to their pleading for a clone of their own.

“Awww…c’mon, Boss…” Rumble had whined. He was partial to the Starscream model. The thought of having the Air Commander kneeling in front of him, glossa working his taut cable—was enough to have the red cassette heating up in anticipation.

“Ple-e-ease…” Frenzy added his whine. “Why should the fleshies have all the fun?”

“Yeah…I’m tired of bangin’ Z,” Rumble complained. “Nobody else wants to play.”

“Well, you ain’t that great either, slag-for-processors!” Frenzy yelled, insulted and just a tad hurt.

“Request: Still denied.” Soundwave wasn’t sure if they’d heard him, as they continued to bicker.

“Well, I barely get a decent overload offa ya anymore!” Rumble snarked, as if Soundwave hadn’t said anything.

“Well, I bet I can get a better overload offa one of those fleshies, than I could from you!” Frenzy snarked back.

“Desist. Subject: undesirable.” Soundwave didn’t care for the direction the conversation was heading.

“But…Boss…” Frenzy implored, the gears in his meta turning. “If ya won’t let us get a clone, then—maybe—you could let us get a human. There are LOADS of ‘em that are willing.”

“Yeah,” Rumble interjected, warming up to the idea. “They’re our size…and they’re reasonably compatible...and we’d be careful…and wouldn’t smash ‘em, and make a mess…”

“Bestiality: Inappropriate.” Soundwave gave his creations a stern glare.

Rumble added, “We could always dispose of ‘em. Nobody but us has to know…”

“ENOUGH. Discussion: Terminated.” Soundwave walked off without another word or glance.

Frenzy turned to his twin, “Rumble…ya thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Yeah, Z, I think I am.” Rumble agreed.

Finding out that a pair of Rumble and Frenzy clones were going to be offered in a grand prize drawing, was like a gift from Primus. For a full Earth month, they plotted to substitute themselves for their clones. The human receiving the clones would be up for a little action, and nobody had to know it was them. Oh, yeah…their idea was brilliant, but since neither cassette was scientifically minded—oversight was inevitable.

In retrospect, their plan had seemed to be a lot smoother in theory, than in practice. The small Decepticons continued to watch the human sift through the copious peanuts, searching in vain for what she’d never find. The owner’s manuals were stashed away safely in their sub-spaces. They took in her appearance while she was preoccupied.

According to the data they’d hacked from the clones, the female was approximately midway through her species’ pathetically short life-span. She was average height, and above what was considered the ideal body weight.

“//She’s not that bad lookin’, for a squishy,//” Frenzy commed. He couldn’t understand what that whole ideal body weight thing was about. She didn’t look fat. He liked that she didn’t appear as frail. Maybe they wouldn’t have to be as careful with her.

“//Yeah,//” Rumbled agreed. The afternoon sun shone on the female’s copper-hued hair. Faint glints of silver caught his attention. “//Interesting shade on her cranial unit, and green optics, too.//”

“//She’ll do,//” they agreed.

Hope wiped at a peanut sticking to her face, and huffed. She shivered a bit as a chill breeze played with her hair. She wished she’d gone ahead and left her jacket on, though digging for those books had warmed her up a bit.

The owner’s manuals weren’t anywhere in the mess that was spread over her porch. Maybe they were stuck to the clones? She remembered Dacey’s joke about “horny two-legged dildos”, and cringed at the thought of going near the pair, who were watching her with all of the intensity of wolves eyeing a spring lamb. Girding her loins, and wishing she had a chastity belt—or a chainsaw—or napalm, Hope approached “Frenzy”.

According to the data; the female exhibited clear signs of arousal. Her pupils were dilated. She had an increase in pulse and respiration. Areas on her body had increase in temperature, and her face had taken on a flushed look. Her nipples had become ridged, and their shape was noticeable even through the thicker material of her sweatshirt.

“Hey, babe, ya change your mind?” Frenzy leered. The female moved cautiously, making a circuit around him, looking up and down in an appraising manner. “//Oh, yeah! She’s definitely checkin’ me out!//” Emboldened by her attention; he opened the access panel on his pelvic armor, and unrolled his bonding cable. The pressurizing hiss caught her attention.

“How do ya like that, babe?” Frenzy asked. Taking his cue from the numerous porno’s he’d downloaded off the human’s internet, he added “This oughta fill ya up REAL good.”

Hope stared in horrified fascination at the mechanoid version of a one-eyed trouser snake; which rose, lengthened and expanded in girth—to inhuman proportions. It was a phallus any Clydesdale would’ve been proud of.

“Oh…my…God…” Hope breathed. Her green eyes were huge as the color drained from her face.

Not to be outdone, Rumble unleashed his bonding cable. “Ya think that’s impressive…get a load of this!” Impossibly, his expanded even bigger than Frenzy’s—he gyrated his hips, bobbing the appendage at her in lewd greeting. The human appeared to be entranced by his blatant display of “masculinity”.

“Would ya look at that, Z…?” Rumble crowed. “She can’t take her eyes offa me!”

“It’s not the size…” Frenzy shot back. “It’s how you use it!”

Always competing, the two jockeyed for position around the suddenly still female. They’d begun to rub themselves against her, when she finally snapped out of her stupor.

“Jeeezus Christ!” Hope batted at whatever was in reach while she danced away, from the six foot tall clones. “Would you put those things away?” Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek.

This was definitely not what she had expected. They were taller, a LOT more animated—and oh, holy crap! They actually expected to use those—HORSE weenies on her! Oh, yeah, somebody had seriously fucked up. She stumbled over to a porch chair and sank heavily onto it. Covering her face with her hands, she tried to calm herself.

The Decepticons had backed off; hands protectively covering bonding cables, and flinching as their sensitive audios were assaulted by the human’s outburst. Confused, they allowed the cables to depressurize, and roll back up into their pelvic armor.

“//Aaaww…slaaag…//” Frenzy moaned. Depressurizing bonding cables without the benefit of climax, or overload, was a serious bummer.

Disappointed, Rumble commed, “//I think ya might be right, Z. This one’s busted.//” He cringed as his access panel closed over his recalled cable.

The three were silent as Hope regained her senses. She took a deep breath, and released it slowly. ‘Not a problem…’ she thought. ‘It’s nothing that a call to the company won’t take care of.’

“Gentleman,” Hope said in a “take charge” voice. “There are some issues that need to be taken care of, the first being this.” She swept her hand in an arc, indicating the mess decorating the porch. A small breeze had kicked up; scattering some of the peanuts down onto the ramp, and into the short grass.

“Rumble” and “Frenzy” looked at her blankly.

“You want us to clean?” Rumble asked in disbelief.

Frenzy caught him with an elbow in the mid-section, “Fragger, that’s one of the things we’re programmed for…”

“Yeah…riiight…” Rumble conceded unenthusiastically.

Hope shook her head. DTI was definitely going to get a piece of her mind.

“Wait here. I’ll go get bags and brooms.” She considered a moment, “Okay, maybe the shop vac.”

The two had bitched the entire clean up about slave labor and having enough of “…this kinda slag on the Nemesis…” She was really getting worried about the strength of the memory echoes. They appeared to believe that they really were Rumble and Frenzy, and even insisted that she call them by those names.

They rounded the corner to the back of the property where Hope had a small dumpster, tool shed, and detached double garage. The crates impeded the clones’ views, so that they didn’t notice the Classic Beetle sitting, outside the garage, in all of its innocent yellow glory. When they did notice, however, the response was spectacular.

Frenzy was still cramming his crate into the dumpster, when Rumble caught sight of the inanimate vehicle. He didn’t miss a beat. “SLAGGIN’ AUTOBOT!” he roared. The red cassette pulled one of the blasters off his back, and fired.

“YOU FRAGGIN’ GLITCH, YOU’RE BLOWIN’ OUR COVER!” Frenzy screamed, tackling Rumble before he could squeeze off another shot.

“BLOW YOURSELF!” Rumble screamed back, and a robot death-match ensued.

Hope looked at the shattered remains of the Bug’s windows, and beyond to the smoke curling from the ex-tree under which she’d buried her cat just that morning. The thought that she should consider herself lucky that no buildings were involved, wandered its way through the haze of stunned denial. Her mind simply didn’t want to grasp what she was seeing, but listed the inconsistencies anyway. Self-activating…no owner’s manuals…weapons…memory echoes that appeared more and more to be firmly established personalities…WEAPONS...

“Oh, shit…” Hope whispered and leaned against the dumpster for support. She watched what she now acknowledged as Decepticons; having a backyard wrestling contest, screaming insults and accusations at each other. She had a good twenty feet to the back door—and the nearest telephone. Hope made a run for it.

Adrenaline had given her a boost of speed and agility, allowing her to hurdle over the squabbling mechanoids whose tussle had taken them directly into her flight path. It wasn’t a clean leap, though, and she had to plant a booted foot on the tangled mass of writhing robot in order to clear.

Unfortunately—for Rumble—Frenzy had latched on to his twin from behind, and was currently on the bottom of the two-Con pile-up. That left Rumble in the rather vulnerable position of being spread-eagled on his back. He wasn’t too happy to have Frenzy gnawing on his blaster-wing, to begin with and even less happy when a 140 lb human stomped his crotch on her way to dubious safety. Cybertronian armor was strong; but a kick to a sensitive area, was a kick to a sensitive area. He was already uncomfortable from his earlier let down. Warning lights lit up Rumble’s HUD, as he tried to curl himself up into a little metal ball.

“Aaaaww…fraaaaag…she’s done gone and killed me, Z…” Rumble moaned pathetically. He gingerly felt his pelvic armor for dents. Even an Autodork wouldn’t have delivered him such a low blow. Well….except for that glitch, Eject. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the Autobrat’s foot had caught him there; with enough force to launch him, no less. Rumble’s parting view had been of the crazy slagger dancing around with his hands in the air shouting “GOAL!”

“Walk it off, wuss.” Frenzy extracted himself and stood up, optics focused on the door that had slammed shut. “Heh…I think she knows. She’ll be tryin’ to call for help…” He hacked into the house’s communications.

Hope had slammed the kitchen door, locking it behind her. She’d grabbed the cordless phone from the wall, as she ran on through to the laundry room. Unplugging the clothes dryer, the frightened woman shoved the heavy appliance until it blocked the door. Her hands were trembling as she tried to call 911.
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