(Person to Motorcycle)



Tucking your hands into your jeans and sighing, you begrudgingly trudge through the convention center. It was MotorCon 2018 and you couldn’t be more indifferent. What a boring event — your friend owes you big time for dragging you to this thing! The only reason you agreed to go was that you’d owed them favor and had nothing better to do, although doing nothing at all sounds way better than being here...

You have to be a good friend, though, and can’t just leave. Nevertheless overwhelmed by the cacophony of obnoxious con-goers, you slip away through an ‘Employee’s Only’ door in an attempt to find some sort of solace. And it seems that your efforts have paid off, as the back rooms and corridors have a refreshingly peaceful sense of isolation to them.

Your breath lets in relief at finally getting a break from the convention, but a metronomic beeping soon breaks through the silence. You take a seat against the wall and put in a pair of earbuds, trying your best to tune out the annoyance, only to have the stench of gasoline nearby soon deny you comfort yet again.

It was putrid enough to force you to change location, but in doing so you quickly find the source of the beeping: a machine at the far end of one of the side rooms. Wanting to see if you can somehow stop the racket, you cross the room determinedly.



“ASSEMBLY SEQUENCE INITIATED.”



The voice of an overcom stops you in your tracks, as does the fact that you can no longer hear the beeping. ‘Sequence initiated’? If that was referring to the machine, why had the beeping stopped?

“Uh, what exactly was ‘initiated’?” you call out, figuring there to be some employee on the intercoms who will have heard you. Instead, the same robotic voice comes through over the speaker system.



“SUBJECT IN POSITION, APPLYING CHANGES."



“I’m ‘In position’? What does tha-” your question ends abruptly after you notice a steel plate sits underfoot and that you’ve stepped into the middle of it in trying to reach the machine. You look back up to see it whirring away, sputtering emissions into the room. When the smog reaches you, however, the effects are immediate.

From the wrist up, your right hand begins to elongate and curl in on itself. You watch in horror as your hand takes on the appearance of a wheel, and the feeling in your foot (this time the left one) from the ankle down informs you that you’ve now got a matching pair. The veins in your neck strain as the opposite hand and foot pull towards the other like magnets, remaking your limbs into impossibly straight and rigid poles.

The feeling of your extremities and limbs merging to meet at one point forces a scream to escape your lips. No longer able to stand, you painfully fall on your new wheels of flesh and wind yourself in the process. In fact, you didn’t just wind yourself, you emptied yourself. Your chest feels completely hollow, as though it’s now just a chassis made of skin.

But you may have to change that description, as your red TShirt soon melds into your skin and gives it a crimson, metallic look to it. Your now-metal ‘chassis’ is made more complete once the part of your shirt that had been sagging beneath your belly becomes part of you. It feels as if you’ve gained an immense amount of mass to your stomach.



“BEGINNING FUELING PROCESS.”



You dread knowing what the voice means and can only guess once a nozzle descends from the blackness of the ceiling. Your bellybutton, which had all but disappeared, reemerges at the side of your body, the nerves pertaining to it telling you that it now reached much farther into your being. It then widens, allowing the nozzle insert itself into your former torso.



“FUELING AT 0% PROGRESS.”



The smell of gasoline becomes even more omnipresent to your senses as you feel a stream of it surge inside you. Immediately, your neck shortens and even disappears into your body, cutting off most of the blood flow to your head. You expect to become doozy only to realize you’re more energized than ever! Electricity floods into your head through a new series of cables and creates tingles across your body.



"FUELING AT 25% PROGRESS."



You wince as your ear canals seem to snake themselves out of your head and extend into handlebars. Your hearing vanishes, but you don’t panic. In fact, you oddly feel as if you don’t need to ‘hear’ anything. You would’ve expected to miss having ears, but something about your new handlebars is just… right. You barely notice your nose pushing your face out to give its structure a rounder, more blunt appearance.



The skin of your head begins to harden as well. As your cheeks gain an orange hue, you realize they’re pushing out of your skull to resemble hazard lights, with even the surface of them becoming glass-like. Another thing becomes more glass-like: your eyes. The feeling is dizzying as they merge into one, and after only a few moments you suddenly realize you have insane tunnel-vision. You head barely looks human any more, yet you find yourself relishing in that fact...



“FUELING AT 50% PROGRESS.”



Just as your mouth finishes sealing over, your buttocks begin to morph into a traditional bike seat, and the sensation of leather growing across it is the first thing you unconditionally enjoy. You start to let go of inhibitions and instead decide to just let happen whatever changes befall you. Of course, you had little choice in the matter, but the fear you’d initially felt was becoming more and more subdued as the transformation progressed.

Your two wheels become coated in a rubber to eliminate the last of your body’s skin. Your inhumanly parallel arms shift their socket from your shoulders to your head, making shoulder blades are free to thicken and merge into a cover to your body. Unable to hear as the robotic voice comes back online, you realize how eagerly you are for whatever lay ahead.



“FUELING AT 75% PROGRESS.”



Your undercarriage had been slowly and unnoticeably changing to pure machinery. The feeling of oil greasing and slicking your parts makes you appreciate how intricate you are. Your engineering is unbeatable! Only, humans aren’t engineered… why had you thought that about yourself? After all, you’re a…

What are you exactly?

You don’t have any time to think about it; the feeling of your wheels growing in size and obtaining concentric spokes sends a euphoric jolt of electricity to your brain and overwhelms it functioning. The organ explodes with pleasure in reply, and you soon feel the hub of your thinking change into something that works more as the hub for circuitry.

The way you think changes accordingly.



“FUELING AT 95% PROGRESS.”

You start to love the smell of gasoline and can only feel sadness when your nostrils plug up.





“FUELING AT 96% PROGRESS.”

You have a newfound need to be filled with fuel.





“FUELING AT 97% PROGRESS.”

You feel the desire to have someone sit upon your seat and the weight of their ass to make it sag. You want to feel the air’s humidity condense on your metal casing and the sweat of your rider soak through your seat.





“FUELING AT 98% PROGRESS.”

You find the vibration of your machine parts intensely enjoyable and yearn to hear the sexy roar of your engine on the road and feel the tread of your wheels upon it.





“FUELING AT 99% PROGRESS.”

You have the overpowering need to drive: for asphalt to strip away under your mighty wheels. Your headlight illuminates, and you know as a result that your motor will soon come to life and allow you to be ridden.





“FUELING COMPLETE.”



You are Motorcycle. Nothing more. There isn’t anything left in your programming that would suggest otherwise. Your duty as Motorcycle is to transport the rider. To wait for their return. To be stowed in their garage until they can take you to the road again.

The nozzle lifts away as you power down, leaving nothing but Motorcycle in your wake.