Disclaimer: Nope, just a fanfiction writer. I would be a man, if I owned it, wouldn't I? So nope.
Story: Fem!Sam Dylan Gould is her Lex Luthor, Bee's gotta be her Herbie, and the AllSpark claims her. Wait, what? And she swears fandoms are taking over the world. Pairings undecided: main human Sam/Dylan, main mech Barricade/Sam/Starscream and Sam/Bee.
Set before first movie and an AU genderbender.
Spoilers: All movies.
Warnings: Cursing and violence for now…hm, just in case since I'm usually writing it, bit of crazy humor, perverted humor, morbid or sarcastic humor, and maybe some sexual situations…
Pairings: Not set. No canon pairings. Undecided but mainly centered around Sam. Main Sam human pairing: Sam/Dylan, Main Sam mech pairing: Sam/Starscream, Sam/Barricade, and Sam/Bee. Future Sam others very possible i.e. Sam/Optimus, etc. Minor side pairings: Mikaela/Arcee, Chromia/Elita-One, Trent/Flare-Up, Leo/OC…

A/n: Starts with Sam's parents' POV and gradually moves into Sam's, which the story will mainly be written in.
Dedicated to LatinBookLover for convincing me to get this up already.

Quantum Physics of the Female Anatomy
Chapter One: Twinkling Stars Bearing Down

Judy Witwicky frowned in confusion, looking at all the junk in the box.

"Hey, Spark…what the hell is all this stuff?"

Her husband, Ron Witwicky, frowned as well. "My great grand-dad's stuff. Dad passed it on to me."

"…Let's sell it."

"Absolutely not! Those are priceless family heirlooms," but he only seemed half-reticent to her.

She smirked. "So…anything I can do to change your mind?" she winked, making him turn red.

"Judy!"

She rolled her eyes and glanced in again, catching sight of a dusty case for glasses. She took it out and blew off the dust, examining it critically. When she opened it, there was a pair of spindly glasses, complete with badly cracked lens and metal frame slightly bent.

"…Really needs to go," she deadpanned, picking it up with her forefinger and thumb and holding it up precariously between them.

Ron roughly grabbed it from her, cradling it gently and mock-glaring at her. She huffed at him, though she winced when she felt her hand must've gotten a cut, and frowning again as she thought her hand might've gotten the cut from the cracks of the glasses as Ron snatched it from her.

"Oh, sorry, sweetheart," Ron reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away with a hiss, inwardly flinching at the welling up of blood.

"No, no. I got it," she nodded towards the kitchen, where she headed to while Ron took care of the family heirlooms he and Judy was stuck with for the time being. As she put her hand under lukewarm water, she blinked in surprise as she saw that there was no visible cut on her hand like she'd previously seen before she'd rinsed it off.

"Huh…must not have been as bad a cut as I thought."

"Really? That's good news," Ron's voice interjected and she turned to see him hauling the box of junk out of sight. She inwardly smirked, forming a plan in her head. As soon as he came back, she pounced and dragged him up the stairs without another word, leaving him bewildered before he understood and he grinned lasciviously.

9 months later

"Stupid bastard! This is all your fault!" Judy screamed, throwing her head back violently and hitting the upright hospital bed harshly.

Ron winced as his hand was practically crushed.

"Just a little bit longer, Mrs. Witwicky! Push!" the doctor thankfully interrupted and Judy screamed one last time before the baby slid out.

Ron pumped a hand into the air in success. "Alright! Samuel James Witwicky, welcome to the world!"

The recorder, who was dealing with the name and details of the birth, wrote down the name.

"…It's a girl, Mr. Witwicky," the doctor announced hesitantly.

Both new parents turned to stare at him, dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Judy, sweaty and exhausted, thought she'd misheard.

"What?"

"It's a girl," the doctor repeated and watched the two Witwicky's turn to look at each other.

"But the doctor –the ultrasound –" Ron hissed out, not even able to finish his thoughts.

"I know! I didn't even think of any female names!" she hissed back.

They traded one last look before they turned to the doctor, the same thought somehow shared through their minds.

"Samu…elle…Janes Witwicky," Judy gave a strained smile.

The recorder quickly wrote over the 'm', darkening it to make it 'Janes' instead of 'James', and then wrote the extra 'le' upwards after 'Samuel'.

The doctor sighed. "Paperwork. Such a hassle," he muttered to himself as he cut the umbilical cord and started to clean up the baby. Then he spanked it and the newly christened Samuelle "Just Sam Please" Janes Witwicky started to healthily cry.

"Samuelle?" Ron murmured to his wife.

She shrugged, "You were thinking it too. Besides…it sounds French…ish."

"Is it even really a real name? Or French?"

"Who knows? Oh well."

And so, February, 17, 1990, Sam Witwicky would be born.

Six years later, the new family was in Washington D.C., visiting Ron's older brother Ben. Ben Witwicky was contently under the employment of Hotchkiss Gould Investments and happily would show them around his home and the city. At this time, there was really only one real cool place that had to be visited.

The Smithsonian Museums.

Unfortunately, since there was such a large collection of them, they could only go to a handful for the duration of the week they were visiting. It was in the National Air and Space Museum that things began to unravel for the 6 year old Sam.

Nearing closing time, the museum was nearly empty. Her parents and Uncle Ben were not near and she was all alone, staring at the gleaming Blackbird, who she could actually feel. Sam couldn't really explain what she meant by that, only that she just felt the plane.

Humming happily, she reached up and was barely able to touch the plane, fingertips glowing slightly at contact, before she heard her mother calling for her. Sighing, she skipped off to them, never noticing the Blackbird's outer shell starting to writhe after the odd moment.

Later that night, the Blackbird would finally transform into a strange being –large and old and all metal and wires –and look at his servos before staring up into the open skies at the stars blinking ahead, the hangar he was in enclosed except for the ceiling's temporary opened "window". He was quite sure he would remember wide, childish hazel eyes on a cherubic innocent face.

The delayed reaction from the energy the child strangely transferred into him was starting to wear off much more quickly than the energy had been able to reanimate him and he knew it, so he transformed back into the proud, gleaming Blackbird that was there for the world to see.

An hour after that, Sam was waking up the household with her screams and scaring everyone with her high fever and unresponsiveness. They quickly rushed her to the hospital and had to wait as Sam was monitored and helped as much as was possible.

"Witwicky family?" a doctor approached them.

"Yes?" Ron spoke up first. "How is she? We don't understand. She's always been so healthy, almost unnaturally so. What's wrong?"

"We're not quite sure," the doctor reluctantly admitted. "Whatever it is, it's actually retreating quite quickly now. It could've been a very severe 24-hour flu or it could've been an allergy attack. Do you know if she's allergic to anything?"

"No, she's not. Like we said, she's been perfectly healthy since the day she was born," Judy answered him.

"I see," the doctor said, inwardly confused at this turn of events. However…"We'll run more tests, but the many tests we have already run have actually revealed something."

"What is it?" Judy asked, becoming afraid.

The doctor hesitated, but plunged on. "I'm sorry to say this, but we've detected that your daughter has Diabetes, Type I. She'll have to start learning to manage it now, and learn how to utilize the various treatments she's afforded."

"Ron, doesn't our family have a history of diabetes?" Ben muttered to his brother.

"Yeah…" Ron answered distractedly.

"My family does too," Judy added unhappily. "It can be genetic, so with both of our families, it might have passed on to her."

"We won't be able to figure out why or how, but we'll just have to focus on helping her with it," Ben consoled his brother and sister-in law. "Don't worry about it. Sam's a fighter. She'll pull through."

A week later, Ron and his family finally came home. The next door house, which had been on sale when they'd left, was now looking pretty occupied.

"Oh, Ron, Sam! Look, we have new neighbors! Fantastic! We should greet whoever they are and invite them over to dinner! Sam, you go do that," Judy chirped up happily, mind away from the morose happenings.

Ron was about to protest, but their 6 year old was already on her way to ring the doorbell of their new neighbor. Sam, blank face as always, quickly did her duty of ringing the doorbell, when the door was opened by a tall blond and blue-eyed man, who smiled gently at her.

"Hallo, what are you doing here, fräulein –eh, I mean 'frau'," the man embarrassedly added, an accent very obvious. "Ah, but you're so small! May I call you fräulein, little one?"

Sam shrugged in agreement, though not knowing what it meant. She could guess that the translation had something to do with what he just called her in English and why he'd exclaimed she was so small. She nearly bristled at that, but then she acknowledged…she was rather small, especially for her age. So she just did a little 'harrumph!' and pouted.

"Don't be mad, fräulein. It's not bad to be so small. Think of all the mischief you can get into!" he winked and she cheered up, nodding seriously as she thought of the things she was able to do and not get caught because of her size. Like taking cookies out of the cookie jar and her mother automatically blaming her father because Sam hadn't been seen…

"My mom and dad want to invite you over for dinner because Mom's weird like that," she told him in a matter of fact manner.

"Well, I'll be delighted to! Shall I see you in an hour?"

She blinked. "Sure."

So an hour later, their new neighbor, who seemed to be alone moving in, came over with a really delicious looking cake-like dessert.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" Judy exclaimed while both father and daughter stared and mentally drooled.

"Ah, but it is only fair," the blond man smiled. "You invited me for dinner, so I should bring the dessert. I hope you like it. It is a German Hazelnut Torte. It's an old family recipe."

Judy took it and put it in the kitchen for him, while Ron led him to the dining table.

"I'm Ron Witwicky, this is my daughter Sam, and my wife is Judy," Ron introduced them all.

"I am Klaus Beilschmidt, but I go more by 'Dutch'. I just recently moved here from California probably around…three days ago? Yes, you weren't here then," 'Dutch' explained and Ron drew him into a discussion about sports, while Sam grumpily found something to distract herself in the meanwhile.

"Your name and accent sounds German," Judy interrupted cheerfully.

"Yes! I am! I was born around Balvaria –Munich to be exact. I haven't visited for some years now though," Dutch confirmed.

And it was a discussion between the adults that started as they began to eat, while Sam 'humphed!' and delicately ate her mash and casserole.

"That's lovely! Would you mind terribly teaching Sam how to play when you have time?" Judy clapped her hands excitedly.

Sam jerked her head, reeling back into the conversation.

"Would you like that, fräulein? Violin is very soothing. It has a beautiful sound and it's rather haunting."

"Ohhh, Ron, that nickname's so cute," which indicates sometime in their discussion, he'd mentioned it and explained it to her parents while she was daydreaming, "We should totally come up with some foreign nicknames ourselves! It'll be just adorable."

Throwing a glare at her parents, who were actually still talking about that, she turned back to Dutch and nodded enthusiastically.

"I would love to."

"Guten morgen, Blackie, Aster, Berlitz!" Sam greeted out solemnly, meeting Dutch's three dogs who bounded up to her.

"Morgen, fräulein," Dutch came out from the backyard, dragging a bag of branches. "Blackie, Berlitz, backyard! Aster, to your bed –you are sick," he reprimanded.

The dogs immediately obeyed and Sam was once again reminded of how militaristic the dogs acted –very obedient and behaved.

"Ready for your piano lesson?"

She nodded and looked at him expectantly. He chuckled and nodded his head towards the door, leading her in.

"At this rate, you will be done learning that quickly and we'll be onto guitar, yes? I'm not quite sure what else I have on hand to teach you! I've even taught you German, fräulein."

"You'll come up with something, Herr Dutch," she said airily, already drifting off towards the piano in his living room.

"How about guns?" he asked jokingly, idly remembering his past and his current profession before banishing the thoughts immediately.

"Sure."

"Alright then –" he blinked and realized her nonchalant reply and his own unthinking one. "Ah, we'll revisit that thought later," he said nervously, inwardly twitching. "To the piano, fräulein."

"Already there."

Later, while Sam was visiting her only friend, Dutch was over at her house, visiting with her parents.

"How is she doing?" Judy asked, strangely anxious.

"Well, well," Dutch soothed. "I might start getting on to the guitar soon. She's done quite well with piano and violin, and she maintains her level with them while moving onto other things. Is something the matter?"

Ron and Judy looked at each other.

"You see," Ron started off. "Sam's always been an oddly detached child. Not that she's unemotional…kind of. But that she seems to have a hard time fitting in with others and making friends. Up to now, her only friend has been Miles. She doesn't like to socialize, though before she tried and it was always very awkward. Now she doesn't even attempt it any more, choosing to stick to herself."

"We're glad she likes learning so much, but she's so alone all the time. Although back before that incident when she was six, she'd learned like a sponge, I remember," Judy started twisting her hands together. "Now though, it seems a little harder on her."

Dutch furrowed his eyebrows. "I noticed she seems to have an odd learning curve. Creatively, her mind works wonders. Otherwise, she does seem to have a harder time of it."

The three of them pondered on that, while their subject was busy with her own thoughts.

Another six years later from meeting Dutch, being diagnosed with diabetes, and the first and only time she was sick, Sam's odd behavior was much more pronounced and noticeable. She didn't look down on the others, but she didn't know how to associate with them. So she was alone and was…not alright, but okay with it. Miles Lancaster was an exception…but only because he was too stubborn and stupid to leave her alone.

She was fond of him because of that.

But now he was moving and she was going to be alone again. Mindlessly, she began fixing his broken stereo as she thought about that. Miles pouted beside her, also unhappy at the news, but she ignored that and wondered about her situation.

Sam liked to fix things. She was very good at it and she could fix nearly anything at the age of 12. Her father was already in the process of teaching her about cars and she happily soaked it up, regardless of her mother's neighbor female friends muttering how it was a boys' thing and little girls like her had no business dirtying her hands like that.

She blew a raspberry at them behind their backs.

She also was incredibly smart for her age. Before becoming sick when she was 6, she nearly learned whatever she could and quite easily for that matter. But afterwards, gradually her learning started to suffer and she found that she had a lot of trouble with some things now when she hadn't before. And that things creatively and artistically were even more easier for her to learn than ever before.

She'd never gotten sick since that time, and was very healthy aside from her diabetes. She was also a bit of an oddball when it came to her clothing, preferring a specific style of dresses and stubbornly sticking to it.

It was these things and more that had others her age cringe away and look at her weirdly. But she didn't mind. It was just the way she was. And so far, other than her parents and Dutch, only Miles seemed capable of accepting that.

"I'm going to miss you, Miles," she finally said, pausing in her movements and looking sadly down at the almost fixed stereo.

"Me too!" he wailed and threw himself at her, hugging her tightly.

The next day, Miles moved and Sam moped around Dutch's home, playing Moonlight Sonata skillfully.

"…You're so dramatic," Dutch commented dryly.

Her response was to play louder.

His phone rang and he left to answer it, and she continued her playing. But then she heard something very odd. Dutch was speaking without an accent to whoever he was speaking to on the phone.

"…Yes, Project X is doing quite well. Nothing unusual seems to be occurring however."

Dutch finished up his call and noticed something out of place. He couldn't place what it was until he placed his phone down. It was quiet. Too quiet. Hadn't Sam been playing just moments earlier? He turned and nearly jumped out of his skin at the girl quietly standing in the kitchen entrance, watching him.

On a raining, dark day like that, with no light in the house, it was rather creepy.

"You have no accent," she stated.

He nodded and admitted. "I don't have to. I usually do, but I am able to cancel it out. I'm also capable of mimicking other accents. In fact, this one is my favorite," he ended in an amazingly accurate British voice.

She looked at him in awe, but then gained a thoughtful look.

"Am I Project X?" she asked with no judgment.

He tilted his head, "…Yes. I was sent here to monitor you, though I've taken it upon myself to teach you and gotten quite attached. I suppose my superiors would be unhappy at that revelation. Now…how about I continue to play Moonlight Sonata and you can practice your ballet? I hear you've been drifting from it."

"I'm bored," she admitted, moving some things aside and then beginning to move on her own without music.

He went to the piano and started playing.

"But you like ballet."

"I don't like the classes."

"Then stop. You don't have to take classes when you can dance on your own."

He played on and she danced.

The next day, she waved goodbye to him from her spot in the family car. And then they were driving off to the airport so they can visit her Uncle Ben. A huge box of things was on her little lap and she was disgruntled as she held it, glaring at her father who had been the one to dump it on her.

"What is it?" she asked distastefully.

"Junk," her mother replied helpfully.

"Family heirlooms," Ron humphed.

"We're going to try to pilfer it off on Ben," Judy supplied.

"No, it's going to him for storage. Until you're ready to have it. It's yours," Ron claimed loudly.

Sam opened it up and looked inside.

"Why are you giving me junk?"

Ron grumbled to himself and Judy smiled in triumph.

The visit to Uncle Ben was because of his invitation to come with him to his boss' party ball for his employees. His boss was apparently very rich and handsome and all this stuff her Uncle Ben gushed about, but she hardly paid attention.

She was bored.

She always got bored easily and she always shied away from people. So, with a dancing lilt to her feet, she abandoned her drunk mom, dad, and uncle and gravely made her way out of the ballroom and into the empty and dark hallways to explore.

"I tell you –you should have just named her Samantha! Why on earth would you plague the girl with a name like Samuelle?"

"It was all we could think of! Plus the boy name was already written down, so we had to fudge it or something. Samuel was all on our heads at the time anyway, so we just ended up basing it around it."

"Don't group me with you. You were the one who said it."

"Damn it, Ron! You were thinking it!"

It was the last she heard as she faded from view and started to look around. A little while later, she saw a large balcony. It was big enough to host a party on its own, but it was empty and the dark of the night surrounded it, with only the stars twinkling down.

She tilted her head curiously, seeing a lone figure sitting on the stone railings, feet steadied on the other side as he looked up somberly at the stars. She stepped back and made to leave, but her shoe scuffed against something and made a loud noise, attracting the person's attention.

"Who's there?"

Sam frowned to herself before coming forward and watching him, still tilting her head.

"I'm Sam Witwicky," she announced quietly, vaguely amusing him.

"Well, Samantha, I'm Dylan Gould. It's a pleasure to meet you, but why aren't you with your parents?"

"They're busy arguing about my name with my uncle," she said frankly.

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back and bursting out with laughter. It slowly died down and his smile gradually became bitter.

"That's…nice, Samantha," he turned back to his original position, his expression once more sorrowed.

"I'm in a bit of trouble, love. I hope you don't mind, but I don't feel up to company," he murmured.

Drops of rain startled her and she noticed it was starting to sprinkle a bit. Her blue and black plaid Lolita dress was going to be ruined. She frowned. But…

She looked back at him and he turned again to face her, wondering at her continued presence near him.

They traded a look that said more than it was supposed to, and both of them were surprised at how much it meant to each other and themselves. And suddenly everything was understood. Still, Dylan forced himself to look away, hands gripping the railing tightly.

So Sam surprised both of them when she practically tossed herself at his back and hugged him tightly.

"It's a wonderful life…so please don't give up just yet," she murmured, peeking around him to look at the ground below from where he was highly perched and instinctively knowing where his thoughts had been heading. "Don't let go."

Even more surprised and yet a feeling of gratefulness and strangely happiness started welling up in him, Dylan turned around in her arms and grabbed onto her tightly, holding her to him as tight as possible. The rain splattered down on them, becoming harsher, and making tracks down their faces and masking tears.

It was strange to find a kindred spirit like this.

Started 11/10/11 –Completed 11/11/11

A/n: I tried to not get into this, but it happened. I stayed away from Transformer fics for so long and now I've eventually caved in. Eh. Anyways, yes –that is the Dutch from the third movie. I'll be fleshing out his character and giving his background more thought. Samuelle is a real name and I hope I get Ron and Judy alright. I apparently like to torture all my genderbended characters…or just my main characters in general, like giving them a disorder. But everything I've done so far has a purpose, so please keep note. Can you all catch the Hetalia, Dollhouse, and Afterschool Charisma references?

Sam's personality will change drastically now that she has met Dylan, but not in the way you would think. But the sad and nearly apathetic her in this chapter will occasionally show up. And Uncle Ben is an actual character in canon.

Fräulein is not generally used by Germans anymore, especially since it's been prohibited by the German Minister of the Interior in 1972 (and specifically banned on all writing) and 'frau' was to be used for all women (married or not) (hence, Dutch saying 'frau' instead). Unless, of course, asked to be addressed by the woman herself. However, here it's used because of Sam's small stature and because she's a cute little girl (fräulein comparable to English 'Miss' and literally 'little woman' or 'little Mrs.'). And according to the wikis, Dutch is/either German. Please remember to review if you enjoyed! Thank you!