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nkoftym · 18 days

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Papi's Gear

Here's an older story that I have recently edited and cleaned up.

A hockey fan hopes to see his favourite player, Auston Matthews, but ends up getting closer than he could have imagined.

A crowd had already formed in the players tunnel underneath the Scotiabank Arena in downtown Toronto. The crowd buzzed excitedly, waiting for the arrival of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team. I was anxiousing hopping from one foot to another, hoping to see my favourite player, Auston Matthews, walk by. Maybe I'd get to give him a fist bump before he jumped on the ice with the rest of the team. I tried to angle my way closer to the front of the crowd, to get a better view of the guys as they walked past. With some polite pushes, I was able to squeeze beside a wall next to the cordoned off section.

A surge of energy swept through the gathered crowd as we caught a glimpse of blue and white coming down the tunnel. The team was on their way to the ice! One by one the players walked by. They looked so handsome and masculine in their royal blue jerseys. I held out my fist for the players to pound with their gloves, hoping to make a connection with someone. Frustratingly, I was too close to a wall, and not easily seen as they walked by, so nobody noticed my fist. I was able to get a good look at each player as they walked by. Their hockey equipment was bulky and broad, making their already impressive bodies seem even bigger. As the players walked by, I caught quick whiffs of their equipment and bodies, and swallowed their scent greedily. I looked for Auston, number 34, but didn’t see him anywhere.

“Oh man. That sucks.” I said to myself.

Auston Matthews was my favourite player and one of the best players in the NHL, so it was weird not seeing him come down the tunnel with the rest of the team. I hadn’t heard anything about him being injured… It was very unusual that he wasn’t in the team line-up tonight. His skill and speed was unmatched by any player in the NHL. I’d give anything to play like him.

I was about to leave the tunnel and head to my seat when another surge of energy fired the crowd.

“Auston!” Someone yelled.

I turned, and sure enough, there he was: number 34. Auston Matthews. He was walking casually towards us but he wasn’t dressed in the Maple Leafs’ uniform. He was wearing a blue Leafs hoodie and black work-out shorts. A Maple Leafs cap was on his head, allowing his long greasy hair to be slicked back. Why wasn’t he dressed to play?

I stretched out my fist for him to bump. He looked massive up close. His thigh and leg muscles were like tree trunks. His shoulders were built and angular with strong muscle. He looked robust, tough and incredible.

“Auston!” I yelled, but deep down I knew he wasn’t going to fist bump me. I tried to get his attention my flashing the number 34 on my jersey.

“Auston!” I yelled again. But he was already walking by me. Ignored.

“Auston! Why aren’t you playing tonight? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Something I said must have clicked with him. He stopped and began to walk back towards me. I saw him scan the crowd, looking for the person that had yelled at him. The look on my face must have betrayed me because he walked towards me as soon as our eyes met. My fist was still stretched out, but instead of bumping it with his own fist, he gripped my entire hand with his own so that the palm of his hand was on my fist and knuckles. It felt warm and slightly sweaty.

“I can’t find my equipment! Can you help me look for it? He said.

I nodded. Anything for Auston Matthews! I turned and left the crowd. I didn’t know where to start looking, but I knew I had to start somewhere.

As I left the tunnel and the crowd behind, I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach and a warm, itchy sensation all over my skin. I tried to ignore it, but was quickly overcome by discomfort and ducked into the nearest bathroom. The room was empty, with clean white floors and large mirrors on the wall. My entire body was hot and uncomfortable. I was wearing an old and stained Maple Leafs jersey, and tore it, tossing it to the ground. My other clothes followed almost; my skin was so hot and uncomfortable that I needed to remove anything that was touching it.

I stood in the bathroom, naked, and breathing heavily. The heat and pain was dying down, and instead my skin was tingling. A wave of calm and euphoria went through my legs and arms.

Small blue dots began forming on my shoulders. They were small at first, but deepened into dimples evenly spaced on my skin. They quickly spread across, replacing my own natural pores and hair follicles and stopped just before my biceps. The skin on top of my shoulders and neck turned completely blue, and a white collar appeared from of my neck. A silver and black NHL shield popped into existence just above the white lace under my collar bone. The blue colour continued down my arms, and my skin stretched and reformed into a blue mesh-like material. A pair of white numbers formed at both of my biceps: 34. My skin seemed to shift and separate from my torso, it made me look bigger. Was I growing a jersey?

The blue mesh continued down my arms, stopping at my wrist. Two white stripes formed just above and below my elbows, and wrapped around my arms. Another white stripe formed at my waist, wrapping all around my stomach and back. I saw my nipples stretch, flatten and disappear into blue fabric. All of my chest hair fell out. The skin on my chest also stretched and wove into blue meshy fabric: a lightweight Areolite fabric made by adidas. A length of white lace snaked its way in the middle of my chest. I felt an itch along the top of my back and twisted my body to see my behind in the mirror. Letters began forming along the top half of my back on my shoulders: MATTHEWS. Two huge numbers etched their way into my skin: 34. From this angle, I could see how my back had sort of billowed out from the rest of my body with some of the jersey material hanging below my butt.

A final detail appeared in the form of a large white Toronto Maple Leafs logo forming on my front. It looked like I was wearing a jersey; a jersey that was a little too big for me, but I knew I was the jersey.

“Instead of helping Auston to look for his equipment, maybe I can be his equipment.” I thought to myself.

Whatever had started this changed seemed to agree, as more changes continued.

I felt my insides begin to twist and turn. My shoulder blades and collar bone melted and began reforming into shoulder pads. My shoulder caps grew bigger, enough to be able to protect Auston from body checks on the ice. I felt my rip cage crack and disappear, and my abdominal muscles and fat transitioned into velcro straps, protective foams and plastic. More bones cracked and transformed into other materials. It felt amazing to change from an organic being into plastic and artificial materials. The entire top half of my body ballooned and grew bigger; my previous frame was too slender and tight for Auston Matthews, he would need more comprehensive protection. The part of me that was a jersey began to fill out as the rest of my insides grew and shifted in order to fit better.

My elbows popped and disconnected from my arms. My bones fused into elbow pads: a two-piece system to protect Auston’s forearm and bicep. A soft cuff formed from my bicep muscle and arm bone and a hard cap solidified at my elbow and forearm. I used my hand to squish my new elbow: it was hollow but sturdy and protective. Elastic Velco straps formed from the muscle around my bicep and forearm. As my upper body changed fully into Auston’s equipment, I started to feel distinctly separate and different. I knew part of me was now a blue Maple Leafs sweater, another part of me were shoulder pads, and another part of me were elbow pads. I was rapidly becoming hockey equipment, and it felt good.

Glancing in the mirror, it looked like I was wearing Auston’s gear. My hands dangled from the wrists of the jersey. My bare, naked legs were holding up the top part of Auston’s gear, with my fully erect penis poking out from the bottom.

“No,” I said to myself. I didn’t want to wear Auston’s gear: I wanted to be Auston’s gear.

My hands began to enlarge; they were smaller than Auston’s hands and wouldn’t work at their current size if they were going to be his hockey gloves. Bones and muscle shifted and melted into more protective foams and plastic. My hands hollowed into hockey gloves. The tips of my fingers bubbled outwards and became more square-like. My joints became longer, enough to provide good dexterity for Auston’s own fingers. My skin turned blue and white. A large white cuff popped out of my wrist, ready to protect Auston’s wrist from slashes and pucks. The letters CCM appeared and wove out of my skin. The palm of my hands turned a pale white with a slight grippy texture in the middle. The material thinned out and stretched across the gloves. My hands were now hollow, empty hockey gloves.

At this point, I somehow ended up on the ground. I collapsed and fell backwards with a soft thud against the bathroom floor. I must have looked a slight: a human head buried in a Leafs jersey, shoulder pads and gloves. I loved it; it felt like I was returning home.

My erect penis, glistening with pre-cum, suddenly deflated and flattened. It turned grey and hard and shaped into a bulbous domed cup. It completely detached from my crotch and became Auston’s athletic cup. I chuckled as I thought about Auston positioning what used to be my penis over top of his own penis and testicles.

The bottom half changes happened almost simultaneously. My hips and thighs pushed outwards and became bigger and roomier. Everything inside deflated and disappeared, becoming yet more protective padding. I felt my pelvic bones shrink and twist as they turned into protective plastic caps. My butt cheeks dissolved and melted into nylon and foam. I couldn’t wait for Auston’s big hockey butt to slide around mine in his new hockey pants. My skin toughened and turned blue, the same shade as my torso. A single white stripe appeared on the sides of my legs as my pelvic region truly became Auston’s hockey pants. A second lace and adjustment strap popped out of my waist and crotch. Auston would use it to tighten the fit around his own waist. As my waist and pelvic area hollowed and emptied, Auston’s new athletic cup shifted and tumbled out of the pants, lying next to them on the ground.

The skin on my knees and shins turned the same blue as the rest of my body, and two more white stripes wrapped around my calves. My leg skin were hockey socks now. Under the socks, both of my knee caps disconnected from my legs and shifted into hard plastic domes. The rest of my muscle and sinew became high-density foam. Meanwhile, my shin bones cracked and groaned as they formed into rigid and ribbed plastic. My legs were now properly hockey shin guards and hockey pants.

It was clear that I was no longer a man: I was hockey equipment. Lifting my head from the ground ever so slightly, I could still see but I couldn’t move my old body freely. Obviously hockey gear wasn’t supposed to move. I knew my changes weren’t complete, however. And even though I had stopped breathing when my chest turned into Auston's shoulder pads, my sense of smell was still working. I could weirdly feel the scent of sweat and Auston's body odour in the air; it was coming from me! I stunk to high heaven, and it was all Auston's sweat.

Another hardening sensation began on my ankle bone. Despite not being connected to my feet with blood and nerves, I was still able to feel the full transformation take place. The ankle bones flattened into the rest of my foot and smoothed away into black carbon fibre. My entire foot ballooned and thickened. Lace holes appeared on the top of my foot and travelled up to my ankle and filled with a white lace. My toes fused into a strong plastic cap. A V-shaped point dropped out of the bottom of my foot and formed into white plastic. Then a narrow steel blade transitioned out of the plastic holder. My skin turned black with a few silver and red graphics etched around. The letters CCM formed on the sides of both feet. I felt the rest of my bones melt and disappear as my foot hollowed into empty hockey skates.

Almost done. I was so excited.

My scalp burned for a second as all of my hair dissolved and fell out. The skin on my head stretched and hardened into smooth blue plastic. Small holes and slits for ventilation dotted around the side of my skull and forehead. The insides melted and transitioned into more hard, high density foams. My chin separated and became a strap. My eyes and nose squished together and became curved and translucent. They relocated together to the top half of where my head used to be and became a visor attached to Auston’s new helmet. Inside my mouth, my bottom row of teeth and tongue liquified and disappeared. My top row of teeth turned soft and translucent, they flattened and hollowed out into a mouth guard. As the inside of my head was now empty and void, ready for Auston's own head to slip into, the mouth guard just flopped down to the inside of the helmet, ready for Auston to chew on between periods.

Finally, I was hockey equipment. I was Auston Matthews’ hockey equipment. I couldn’t think, feel or move anymore. It felt like a return to normal; like my old life was leading up to this moment, to be part of Auston’s body and to protect him while he played hockey in the NHL for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was nothing but a pile of hockey equipment.

A door squeaked open and footsteps entered the room.

“There it is!” Auston yelled. “Hey guys! I found my gear.”

He gathered up the gear from the floor and hurried out of the room. Go Leafs, go!

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nkoftym · 20 days

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Love this vid

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nkoftym · 20 days

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Old Ranch, Fresh Boots

My old ranch was looking pretty dusty and worn-down as I rode back towards it. Damn, had it really been that long? The fence was nothing but a few rows of lonely sticks, the sign on my gate had fallen into the dust, and my ranch house looked like it was halfway to falling over.

I climbed down off my horse, my boots raising clouds of dust as I landed on the ground, then started to tie him up against a post. One more thing to handle with him before I stabled him up though. I stroked his heavy head and looked him in the eye.

"So, said I'd turn you back if you asked me to. How about it?", I said in my gravelly accent. The horse looked back at me dumbly, nothing but animal instinct in his big black stallion head. I knew his mind would have crumbled by now, but when the guy tried to rob me a few months ago, I did promise I'd turn him back from a horse once I reached home, if he asked.

I left him there for now, and climbed up the porch into my house. The door was hanging open and the inside hall was covered in sandy dust. I reached down and pulled my left boot off slowly, feeling the worn and muddy leather slowly slide free. As my hairy, rough foot pulled out, the boot crumpled slightly, the leather gone soft from years of hard use.

I pulled the other one off too and sighed with relief. I lifted the pair up and grinned at it, ignoring my own musky smell oozing from the leather.

"You were good boots, boy. Hope it was everything you wanted", I said. I felt no reply or consciousness from them, not that I was expecting to. Guys that I turned into my boots didn't keep thinking like humans for very long. The warmth and weight of my feet, the taste of my sweat, the smell of my masculine musk, all combined into a brain-crushing effect. I could sense their thoughts while wearing them, and most of them descended into nothing but horny and needy begging after a week or two. After a few months, generally nothing but moans and shuddering.

This guy had been my boots for two years, and had long since stopped having any human thoughts. He only felt pleasure and contentment, his mind fully converted into that of the spirit of an object.

I pushed open the door to my cellar, and where I store my collection of former humans. Down there I had whole shelves of old boots, men who's spirits had fully succumbed to becoming objects and could never turn back.

I had been planning to just give this pair a space on the shelf, but I was surprised to find my cellar was already occupied. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a naked man, one of my boots pressed to his face as he inhaled the scent, and his other hand wrapped around his cock as he pleasured himself to it.

He pulled the boot down in shock as he heard me walk down the stairs, and a blush covered his face as he grunted and sprayed all over himself with his own seed. I raised a bushy eyebrow and watched as he scrambled to grab his pants.

He was red-haired, a little muscle to him, maybe some farmhand. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. Well, all guys are young to me, that's how it gets when you're over a hundred years old, but visually I still looked like a gruff, bearded old cowboy in his late forties.

"Gonna tell me what you think you're doing in my house, boy?", I growled. He covered his junk with his hands, then seemed to realise something.

"Wait...you're him! You're Cooper!", he said in awe. I wasn't sure how I felt about my reputation preceding me.

"I heard you're a wizard, that you got branded by the devil's cattle iron and it gave you powers! M-my name's John, I, uh...I'm sorry, I've been sneaking in here, and I just...", he stammered. I sighed and kept walking until I was towering over him, while he still kneeled naked on the floorboards.

"I want to be your boots!", he finally blurted out. I noticed his eyes were locked staring at my bare feet, his face flushed and hot with desire. I ignored him for now, and carried both my newest pair and the ones he had been huffing, to place them both on the shelf. Then I crossed my arms and looked down at him

"You know what you're asking for here, boy? You really understand what that would mean?", I say. He gulps, his dick already getting hard again just from staring at my feet. Damn, this boy was obsessed.

I lifted one of my feet and showed him my wide, rough sole. It was dirty and blackened from my long trip. Not a lot of bathing gets done out in the wilds. I expected him to flinch or recoil from the musk, but he actually leaned closer.

"It's no picnic, no fun little trip. It's one way. Everything you are just becoming leather, becoming an object. Wrapped around my feet, no way to say no, no backing out. Forced to taste and smell my dirt and sweat even if you get sick of it. Before long your mind would start to melt away, become part of the boots. Each step my weight would crush down on you, wipe you away more. Eventually you wouldn't even think at all, not how a human does. It'd be just experience, sensation, the mind of an inanimate object with no desires. That really what you want of your life?"

He looked up at me with no hesitation, and nodded.

Well, I'm not one to pass up new boots, or to give a second warning. I shoved my foot forward, pressed my rough toes into his mouth, and he gagged on them as his body started to shift. His flesh becoming more malleable, his bones softening as my power filled him. My foot slid right over his tongue and down his throat, as his head started to reshape and conform to fit me.

His eyes watered, but to my surprise he actually pushed himself forward and helped push my foot deeper. Damn, this boy really wanted it. I wondered if he had been influenced by the desires and needs of the countless boots down here, or if this was just how he was.

His skin started to toughen and become darker. It creaked as it grew thick and leathery, the tanning of fine leather spreading down his body, while his insides started to hollow out. He reached down to his shaft and started trying to stroke himself, but I growled a warning.

"No, boy. Your pleasure isn't important any more. You are my property, and what you want isn't relevant."

He immediately pulled his hands away and tried to nod. Damn, I wish all my victims were this obedient. As his body flexed and shifted, the shape of it becoming less and less human, I reached down and pulled his lower body over.

I pushed my other bare foot towards his tight ass, even as I watched it turning brown and firm. He gurgled and shuddered as my toes slid into him, my feet filling both his behind and his throat. Then, when I was ankle-deep, I started to pull.

He moaned and started to sweat. I knew he was feeling his whole body strain and shift in a way no human would ever feel. With a slow sensation, like pulling taffy, his entire body split in two.

He would still feel both parts, feel and taste and smell my unwashed feet in every part of him. Already his limbs were shrinking away into the brown leather, his facial features disappearing as stitching appeared along his sides. I watched as the last of him melted away, until I was wearing just a seemingly ordinary, heavy pair of brown leather boots.

I stood up, and felt him moan with lust as my weight pressed down on him. 'Thank you', I heard in his mind. I didn't reply. I'd already forgotten his name, and he was just property now.

He tasted my sweat and felt every touch of my bare feet with every step, as I climbed back up the stairs to sort out the horse and get the house in shape. There was lots to be done, and lots of folks who needed to accept their place in my ranch.

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nkoftym · 20 days

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Dan sat down for a break, and popped open a beer. It was a hot, sweaty day on the construction site, and his shirt was soaking wet. His friend Cliff sat down too, and Dan looked over to the bearded, rugged other man.

“Thought you were bringin’ your son along today?”, Dan said. Cliff reached down, and pulled off his work boot. His socked foot was revealed, the black sock soaking wet with sweat. Dan wrinkled his nose as the stench of Cliff’s rank unwashed feet filled the area.

“I did. Josh has been refusing to get a job and help out around the house, so I told him he better shape up, or he’d help me at work. He didn’t shape up, so here he is”, Cliff said. He reached down and slowly peeled the black sock off his large, hairy foot, and dropped it.

The sock bulged and twitched. It slowly inflated, the fabric forming arms and legs. The hollow interior solidifed, and the fabric began to change to a flesh tone. The opening closed down into a mouth, and finally there was a naked young man in his early twenties, panting on all fours at the site. His skin was glossy and dripping wet with sweat. He gagged and coughed.

“F-fuck! Dad, your feet stink! It’s all I can taste! Fuck, I feel like it’s soaking into all my skin!”, Josh whined. Cliff shrugged. “Get used to it, boy. You’ve got ten minutes for our break, then we’re back to work”, he said.

Dan tossed Josh a bottle of water, and he guzzled it greedily. Soon, though, his ten minutes were up. Cliff grabbed him by the shoulder, and he squirmed and tried to wriggle away. “Dad, seriously, I’ll get a job! I get the point, just don’t shove me back in that horrible boot!”, he whimpered. Cliff shook his head. “I gave you plenty of chances, boy. I said you’d help out for a month, and a month it’s going to be”, he said.

He lifted up his dirty foot, and pressed it to Josh’s face. The younger man immediately began to feel weak. His arms and legs flopped limply to his sides, and his skin began to darken. The black, fabric texture spread down from his face and down his neck, then across his chest. He started to deflate, while his mouth opened out wide. Cliff picked him up as he started to shrink, and pushed his toe’s into Josh’s mouth, stretching his fabric body out against his foot.

As he pulled it all the way up, Josh’s limbs merged into his sock form, and his face melted away into the plain black sock. Cliff then pushed his foot back into the boot, and for a moment there was a faint disgusted whimper as Josh was trapped in the humid, stinking prison of his dad’s work boot.

Dan whistled, and raised an eyebrow. “You sure are a strict one, Cliff”, he said. Cliff grinned. “Oh, I’ve had a troublemaker son before. Josh used to have a big brother, you know”, he said. He pushed down his pants, and fished out his huge, fat cock. “Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”, he said. The cock twitched and bounced slightly in his grip, before he shoved it back into his sweaty rank pants. “Anyway, back to work!”, he said cheerfully. The two got up, and went about the rest of their day.

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nkoftym · 23 days

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nkoftym · 1 month

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Transformation in the Night

Elliot could feel the anticipation building as he and Jake discussed the plans for the next morning. Jake was eagerly awaiting the delivery of a new off-road motorcycle, something he’d been talking about for weeks. But with an early morning meeting on the schedule, Jake wouldn’t be home to receive it. That’s why Elliot was staying over, to make sure the delivery was taken care of. But it wasn’t just about helping a friend; there was something more, something deeper that drew Elliot to Jake’s garage and the machines that filled it.

“You’re sure you’re cool with it?” Jake asked, handing Elliot a beer as they settled in for the night. “I know it’s early, and I feel bad having you handle this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elliot replied with a smile as he took his headphones out of his ears before putting his phone on the bench next to him. “I’m happy to help. Besides, it gives me a chance to check out the bike before you do.” He added with a wink.

Jake laughed and shook his head. “Just don’t get too attached before I get back. I know how much you love these machines.”

Elliot chuckled along, but inside; he was containing his feelings for his best friend. Sure, it all started as a common passion for motorcycles they could both share together. But after a while it evolved, at least for Elliot. He started to have feelings for Jake, and every second away from him was getting more and more painful. He really had a crush on him but he couldn’t talk to his best friend about it. He was way too afraid to lose him and not being able to spend valuable time and multiple laughs with him anymore. The fear of losing not only his crush but his best friend at the same time was just way too hard to imagine. So, Elliot stood there and didn’t say a word about it.

Later that night, after Jake had gone to bed, Elliot found sleep elusive. He couldn’t find sleep knowing that he was so close and yet so far from the love of his life. He started to turn around in his empty bed and after some minutes turning back and forth between the sheets, he decided to watch some videos on his phone to find sleep. It always works. But as he turned to the bedside table to grab it, he realized it was not there. "Great, I must have forgotten it somewhere" he reminded himself. And after a couple of second remembering the day, he realized it must be still on the bench in the garage.

Unable to resist, Elliot quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the garage. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit space that was Jake’s workshop. The familiar smell of oil and metal filled his senses, grounding him even as his heart raced. His phone still lay forgotten on the workbench where he’d left it earlier, but as Elliot was about to grab his phone to go back to bed, his attention was drawn to a pile of mechanical parts glinting under the faint light. The parts seemed to shimmer, almost as if they were waiting for him.

Compelled by a force he didn’t fully understand, Elliot approached the heap of parts. His hand hovered over a sleek gear, feeling an inexplicable connection to it. But as he reached out, his foot slipped on a slick puddle of oil. He stumbled forward, crashing into the pile. The cold metal pressed against his skin, and suddenly, a surge of energy coursed through him, an intense, burning heat that spread rapidly through his body.

Panic seized him as his body began to change. He looked down in horror as his skin rippled, the flesh draining of color, hardening into something cold and metallic. His hands fused together, the fingers thickening and taking a black rubbery texture. The transformation climbed up his arms, bones snapping and grinding as they morphed into the front fork and trapped his fused rubber hands between them. The pain was intense, but beneath it, a dark, twisted pleasure began to take hold, a sense of satisfaction as though he was finally becoming something greater. Elliot tried to comprehend what was happening to him and to his train of thoughts, why was he thinking that? What was happening? But as was looking for answers while trying to scream for Jake to help him, his voice got shut down by an excruciating change in his torso.

His chest started to reform; Elliot’s breath grew ragged. His lungs felt heavy, the air replaced by a mechanical weight. His ribs cracked and expanded, reshaping into the rigid frame of a motorcycle. His skin split open, revealing a network of wires and cables where his organs should have been. His heart beat frantically, one last time, before being overtaken by the steady, powerful thrum of an engine deep within his chest.

His spine elongated, each vertebra fusing into a solid metal framework. His back arched, the muscles thickening and hardening into the bike’s chassis. Inside, his organs liquefied, replaced by the cold precision of machinery. The loss of his human body was terrifying, He was lost in spiraling fear as he was feeling his humanity starting to slip away from his rubber hands.

His legs twisted and contorted, the bones snapping and reshaping into shock absorbers and forks. The skin on his thighs peeled away, revealing thick, rugged tires beneath. His feet flattened, the toes merging into thick rubber treads. Every part of his lower body was consumed by the transformation, leaving nothing but the raw, mechanical power of a bike.

The searing heat surged toward his groin; an area that had remained untouched until now. Elliot gasped as he felt his manhood, once a symbol of his identity, begin to change. The flesh twisted and contorted, the sensitive skin hardening into cold, unfeeling metal. The pain and pleasure combined, overwhelming his senses as his cock stated to elongate and he felt running on the side of his torso as it grew longer and longer, colder and colder. Then he felt the tip of his cock head starting to narrow and opening up. Elliot turned his head to realize his cock was turning into the exhaustion pipe. As he tried to scream for help one more time, his voice was once again cut by the feeling of tingling in his balls as they started to grow and empty before reforming into the fuel tank. The last piece of his humanity becoming a crucial part of the machine. He turned his head one last time towards his manhood only to realize it was gone for good, and with that realization what was left of his humanity started to slip even further from him.

Elliot’s mind began to blur as his head and face stated to change into the handlebars and the control panel. The memories of who he was, of Jake, their friendship, fading away like distant echoes. His thoughts were being overwritten, replaced by the instincts and drives of the machine he was becoming. The urge to race, to feel the earth beneath his tires, to push his new body to its limits consumed him, driving out the last remnants of his human consciousness. But as the transformation neared its completion, he found himself trapped, still fully aware, still fully human within the unyielding metal frame of the bike. He could feel everything, the cold metal, the tension in the cables, the pressure in the tires, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream for help. His soul trapped into an inanimate object that needed a driver in order to come to life.

In a final, climactic moment, Elliot’s phone, still lying on the workbench, began to warp and twist. The screen flickered and then darkened as the circuits and wires fused into something new. The device shrank, reshaping itself into a small, metallic key. The phone, once a part of Elliot’s human life, had now become the key to his new form.

Elliot stood there for hours, stuck in the dark and trapped into this new heavy body that he couldn’t move on his own. He felt the weight of his new mechanics on his tire hands and feet, the coldness of his skin turned metallic, the dust floating in the garage landing on his ass turned leather seat. He could sense it all but yet he couldn’t do anything. His only hope was Jake when he’ll get back from work. Jake will save him; He is sure he will.

As Elliot lay there, motionless, he heard the distant sound of the garage door creaking open. Relief flooded him. Jake was coming, he would see what had happened, he would save him. But as Jake stepped into the garage, Elliot’s hope turned to horror. Jake didn’t seem to see the twisted, tragic transformation that had taken place. He didn’t see his best friend trapped inside the machine. To Jake, it was just a bike, his brand new bike, nothing more.

“Wow,” Jake murmured, approaching the motorcycle with awe. “You really are a beauty.”

Elliot tried to scream, to move, to do anything to get Jake’s attention, but his new form betrayed him. He was frozen, his mind trapped within the cold, unfeeling metal. As Jake’s hand brushed against the handlebars, a shiver of terror ran through Elliot. This was all wrong, Jake was supposed to help him, not admire the monstrous form he’d become.

Jake’s fingers found the key resting on the bench. He picked it up, admiring its weight and slick design, not knowing it had once been Elliot’s phone. Without hesitation, Jake inserted the key into the ignition. Elliot saw jake approaching at fast path towards him with the key. And suddenly he understood what Jake was about to do. Elliot started to beg in his mind. “No, please Jake no, Don't do that, no no NO NO NOOOO! N…………….” The moment it clicked into place; a jolt of energy surged through Elliot’s mind. He felt the key connect directly to his brain, a final, agonizing spark of awareness that told him this was the end as his train of thought was gone and ejected through his exhaustion pipe into a cloud of smoke that contained his humanity.

The engine roared to life beneath Jake’s hand, a powerful, deep rumble that echoed through the garage. Jake grinned, unaware of the tragedy that had just unfolded.

“Where the hell did Elliot go?” he muttered to himself, glancing around the garage. But the thought was fleeting, "Nevermind, I'm sure he went back home to recharge his phone. It's almost like he can't live without it." his attention was entirely on the bike, on the raw power thrumming beneath his touch.

With a contented sigh, Jake swung his leg over the bike and revved the engine. The machine beneath him responded eagerly, as if it were alive, as if it knew exactly what Jake wanted. And in a way, it did. As Jake rode out of the garage, the only thing left of Elliot was the bike itself, forever bound to the machine that Jake would ride, never knowing the truth.

Jake sped off down the road in the diretion of the forest, the wind whipping past him, the thrill of the ride filling him with exhilaration. The bike roared beneath him, powerful and responsive.

The road stretched out ahead, and with each mile, the memory of Elliot faded into the background of Jake’s mind, replaced by the pure, unbridled joy of the ride.

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Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy this story. It's a first for me to publish an inanimate story, so I hope you'll appreciate this style and this theme. I wrote this story for @artificial-transmutations, if you don't know him, go check his content out. He truly is one of the best writers out here. As always, let me know what you think of this one and feel free to message me or send requests if you have any ideas that could be good stories and I'll see what I can do with them! In the meantime, take care and see you soon for more content! :)

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