Biker by Changer

Sally opened the small package that had come through the letterbox, curiosity apparent on her face. The buxom brunette hadn't been expecting anything, and couldn't think what it might be. There was no return address, and shaking it had been uninformative.

Inside the outer wrapping was a small, tubular polished metal box, a dull silver in colour. It looked a little like the sort of box a ring or similar piece of jewellery would come in. Turning it over in her hands, she wondered what was inside. At first there didn't seem to be any obvious way of opening it, but after a few moments of close examination she found a place on the box that gave a little when she pressed it. Pushing more firmly, she was rewarded with a faint click.

The lid of the small container popped open, and she looked inside. Within the box was indeed a ring, a curious affair made of intertwined strands of purple metal. Removing it, she dropped the container and held the ring up to the light. Turning it around in her fingers, she admired it.

"Beautiful, I guess. I wonder who sent it?" Following immediately on the heels of that though, she became curious as to whether it would fit, and slipped it onto her left ring finger. It fitted perfectly. "Odd", she muttered. Picking up the box again, she looked inside, then turned it upside down and shook it. A small piece of folded paper dropped out onto the table.

Unfolding it, she had an unpleasant shock when she recognised the handwriting of her former boyfriend Mark. Unpleasant, because they'd parted on bad terms after his peculiar tastes became apparent. She read the note.

Dear Sally;

Since we last met, I've been looking all over for some way to allow us to be together again. Like I said at the time, one way or another you're going to belong to me. I think the enclosed ring will ensure that.

Mark.

PS It's too late to remove it now.

She wondered what on earth the lunatic was going on about now. Just then, a sharp pain shot through her hand, and she dropped the note with a gasp. Raising her hand, she was shocked to see that the ring had somehow grown! It was extending down her finger to her hand, and up to cover the end of the finger. As it did, it was getting uncomfortably warm.

Staring in disbelief at the impossible sight, she quickly attempted to pull the ring off. It was stuck firm. Tugging hard at it and swearing, she suddenly screamed in pain as a terrific shock shot up both her arms, and then fainted.

When she awoke a few minutes later, she was lying on her back on the floor. A brief moment of disorientation passed quickly, then she remembered why. Raising her hand to look at the ring, she was puzzled when both arms moved together. Puzzlement became horror when she saw what had happened during her unconsciousness.

The ring had somehow expanded into a large mass of purple metal, engulfing both the hand it had been put on and the other one she'd been trying to remove it with. It enclosed both hands to the wrist, and was slowly flowing up her arms as she watched. Tugging hard only hurt her, and she was unable to separate her hands.

Struggling to her feet, she raised her conjoined hands and watched, gasping in fear. The metal sluggishly flowed up her arms, stopping finally about halfway between her wrists and elbows. Another burst of agony went through her, then the misshapen lump began to change. It slowly ebbed in colour until it was a shiny chrome, and at the same time began to contract in some places and expand in others. Her hands moved apart without her trying, until they were separated by a mass of metal some eight inches thick.

While this was happening, the covering over her lower arms and hands contracted, in an impossible fashion changing the shape of her hands. She could feel them flowing and warping, changing into something else. Almost on the verge of screaming, she watched wide-eyed as the mass of metal between her hands expanded into a large round lump, a disk nearly eighteen inches in diameter and five or six inches thick. Her hands and arms continued to change, and the round lump firmed up and changed colour and texture.

Mere minutes later, she stared with horrified recognition at what had grown between her hands.

A wheel.

A motorcycle wheel, to be exact. It ran on an axle that had formed between her former hands, which were now shiny metal hub assemblies forming the lower front forks of a motorcycle. There was no trace of her former human shape below the mid-forearm region. Oddly, she could still feel sensation from the mechanical extrusion, which caused some very strange feelings when she touched the table with it.

In shock, she ran her wheel back and forth on the table, feeling the surface through her tyre. With a little experimentation, she discovered she could somehow apply the disk brake that had grown on one side, locking the wheel. "What in God's name is going on?", she whispered to herself in horror.

While she was staring at the new growth, a sharp pain in both cheeks, immediately followed by a similar pain in two places on the top sides of her head, made her gasp. Reflexively trying to raise a hand to her cheek, she swore when her wheel swung sharply up and hit her nose.

Walking into the hall, she looked in the full-length mirror there, and her eyes widened yet again. A pair of bumps was growing from either side of her head, and a patch on each cheek was changing colour, becoming bright orange, shiny, and plastic looking in appearance.

A moment later, she had orange plastic lenses inset into her cheeks, and from her head sprouted what she realised were a pair of rear-view mirrors in black plastic pods. She was aware of other changes taking place on the back of her head and neck, but had no idea what they were since she couldn't see them.

With a little effort, she was able to make her new cheek-mounted turn indicator lights flash. "How is this happening!", she cried out, the rigid plastic lenses making her speech distort a little.

Shortly thereafter, something began to grow from each shoulder. It was a few seconds before the growths developed enough to make out, but eventually she realised they were handlebars. They grew longer, curving out and back, and various levers and switches sprouted on the ends. When they finished developing, they stuck out nearly eighteen inches to either side.

A pain in her stomach made her look down to where her crop-top bared her midriff. Peering between her front forks she could see several shiny protrusions were beginning to poke through the skin, and were rapidly swelling larger. Pipes curved out and back in again, going from the stomach around the sides of her ribcage, which gradually distorted and changed shape. The weight of the new metallic growths steadily increased, pulling her forward and making it more and more difficult to stand upright.

Finally, she was forced to hands and knees, or rather wheel and knees. The changes continued, while she crawled forward into the kitchen, feeling her wheel run across the carpet and onto the tile floor. When she'd reached the middle of the room, her legs began to stiffen, so she stopped shuffling along and twisted around to look back and down at them.

Seconds after, a metal assembly sprouted between her knees, locking them together about a foot apart. It grew and became more complex, then began to lift her knees from the ground. She realised it was a stand of some sort. Sally found herself unable to move any further under her own power, and screamed in rage and fright.

The changes to her stomach continued, beginning to extend down between her legs and behind her rear. Her back arched, forcing her upper torso more upright, while her lower back remained horizontal. Something was happening between her shoulderblades, and her chest felt odd inside, like it was hollow.

A pain in her ankles made her look back again, and she discovered it heralded the beginnings of a rear wheel. Her rear end and lower back were becoming shiny and spongy-looking in appearance, which seemed to be a seat developing. Right at the curve of her rear some sort of grab handle sprouted.

The changes continued more and more rapidly for several more minutes, finally stopping in a wave of itching pains all over the place. She nearly passed out from the sensation, and spend some moments with her head lowered, breathing hard, before she dared examine herself.

When she did, the result was as bad as she'd feared. She was now, essentially, a motorcycle. An engine grew from her lower stomach and went back between her legs, and the legs themselves were locked into a bent posture. Her lower legs and ankles were like her lower arms, shiny metal motorcycle forks with a large wheel and tyre between them. She had front and rear mudguards covering the top curves of the wheels.

There were metal covers on each outer thigh, apparently protecting some engine part or other. A pair of exhaust pipes stuck out behind her on either side of her rear wheel, and folding foot pegs were present at her ankles.

Most of the rest of her body was still normal flesh in appearance. Her hair had flopped down in from of one eye, and she tossed her head to move it out of the way. She noticed that her large breasts seemed to have inflated considerably, which made them bulge out over her upper arms due the odd posture she was forced into.

The reality of the change gradually sinking in, she cried. "Oh God, what am I going to do. How could this happen to me?", she sobbed. She cried for twenty minutes or so, eventually drying up as she went from unhappy to angry. "Mark, that bastard. I don't know how he did it, but somehow I'll make him pay!" She attempted to move, but found that all she could do was turn her front wheel from side to side. Up on her stand as she was, she was immobile.

Continuing to try, she found she could flash her indicators, not only the ones on her cheeks but a pair that had apparently grown on her buttocks. She couldn't see these last, but turning her head she could see the reflections on the refrigerator. One internal move made a loud, involuntary beep come from her mouth. This startled her badly, and she realised it was her horn. Trying again, she applied her brakes, front and rear, and a bright red light from behind her somewhere illuminated the wall briefly.

A little more effort, and she suddenly found her mouth opening wide all by itself. There was a sensation of warmth inside her head, and a brilliant beam of white light speared out from inside. She'd managed to find her headlight. It took her some seconds before she was able to turn it off, so she could close her mouth and speak again.

Unfortunately, she still couldn't move from her position in the middle of the room. Finally, in desperation, she began to rock back and forth on her stand, trying to roll forward off it and get her rear wheel on the ground, thinking that maybe she could then move around. Several minutes of increasingly frantic movement finally tipped her far enough forward, and she felt her stand fold up somewhere under her. For a few moments she was standing on both wheels, but slowly and ponderously she tipped over onto her side with a crash.

Sally began to cry again. She couldn't even balance by herself. Lying on her side, with one handlebar pressed uncomfortably into the floor, she sobbed for what seemed like hours, until she heard a key in the front door. Looking up in shock, she wondered who it could be, but soon found out.

Her ex-boyfriend Mark, complete with everpresent black leather jacket and carrying a metal fuel can, appeared in the doorway and leaned against the wall while looking at her with a smug expression of satisfaction. "Amazing!", he said happily. "That ring did everything he claimed it would." He smiled at her. "After you kicked me out, I met this weird guy, some sort of travelling salesman, with hundreds of pockets and a big pack full of all sorts of strange things. We got to talking, and I explained my problem. He sold me that ring, and said it would solve the problem."

"Mark, you bastard, why did you do this to me", she screamed in anger. He simply laughed, and didn't reply. Walking forward, he looked down at her for a moment, drinking in the changes with a smile. Then he leaned over, grabbed her handlebars, and heaved her upright once more, placing her back on her stand.

"I've wanted a new bike for ages", he said to her, walking around and squatting down so his head was level with hers. "Now I have a unique one, and one that can even repair itself!" He stood up again, and walked back to her side. "Let's see what you sound like, hmm?" Fumbling in his pocket he removed a key, which he proceeded to insert into a keyhole in the back of her head. The sensation of the small metal object entering her made her start violently, but there was nothing she could do about it.

He turned the key, and she felt several clicks from somewhere deep inside. Sally suddenly discovered that she no longer had voluntary control over her lights, horn, or brakes. Reaching up, he pressed a button on one of her handlebars, and something in the vicinity of her stomach vibrated with a whirring noise. He tried a couple of times, then snorted and slapped his forehead.

"Damn, stupid me. You won't start, obviously, you're empty." He removed the key, and reinserted it lower down her back, in another hole she had been unaware of. Turning it produced a loud click and an odd feeling, as a fuel cap popped open. He bend down and picked up the fuel can, unscrewed the lid, fitted the nozzle, and began to fill the tank she now possessed with gasoline.

She could feel the cold liquid filling up an internal void in her chest, and shivered. It brought home once more how much she'd changed. When he had finished, he closed her filler cap and reinserted the key in her ignition switch. Pressing her starter button this time produced a brief whirring from her starter motor, followed by a louder roar as her engine fired. He grabbed her throttle and twisted it slightly, and the roar settled down to a steady rumble. The vibrations from the engine built into her lower body made weird, not unpleasant, sensations sweep through her.

"Sweet", he smiled. Turning her off, he swung his leg over her back and settled down onto her plush seat. Flipping down her footpegs, he placed his feet on them, then held her handlebars and turned them. Her arms turned involuntarily, her tyre squeaking as it moved on the tiles. Bouncing up and down a bit, he noticed how her arms and legs, which formed her suspension, flexed. Trying her various switches he managed to turn on her lights and indicators and sound her horn.

During all this she was completely unable to do anything herself. It appeared that while her ignition was turned on, conscious control over her body was limited to turning her head. Even that became impossible when he turned on her headlight. She suddenly found she could only move her eyes.

Dismounting, he removed the key. Able to speak again, she swore at him creatively for several minutes. He listened appreciatively, smiling all the time, until she ran out of things to call him. "There's nothing you can do about it, you know", he commented mildly. "You might as well accept it, you're my motorcycle now. The spell apparently ensures that anyone but myself will see you as a real bike as well, so you can't even call for help.No-one will hear."

He grinned happily in a somewhat deranged manner, then dropped her off her stand and wheeled her down the hall and out the front door to the street. Parking her, he carefully locked the door, then picked up his motorcycle helmet which he'd left on the wall outside the house. He put it on, sat on her seat, and started her again, cutting off the fresh flow of obscenities mid-word.

Pushing forward, he folded her stand up, put her in gear, and rode off down the street. Every time he hit a bump or rock, she winced as her enlarged breasts bounced up and down and her tyres ached. The sound of her engine echoed off in the distance, as the strange new machine and her rider disappeared around the corner.

Dark laughter sounded for a moment, then all was still again.