Rico raced once around the field house track, then he drove out an open metal rear door. He drove down a dirt path through a gap in the fence and into the woods. Chad was a motorcycle. His mind was racing, even as his wheels raced off road. We're they his arms or legs or both? He didn't know for sure. The wax had felt so good as Rico polished him, he hadn't paid attention to his body being reshaped into a motorcycle. He knew with a frightening certainty that Rico owned him. He could sense the pink slip in Rico's wallet in the back pocket of his jeans as it pressed down into Chad's face.
Rico drove and drove. Dirt trails, gravel roads, asphalt streets and concrete highways. At last he pulled into a gravel parking lot. He shut off the engine, and pulled out the key. Chad started to transform back into a man. He was sweaty naked and covered in dust and read bugs. He looked around the isolated parking lot, and the club with red neon sign proclaiming the club name: The Flaming Eagle. He knew it was a gay club, he tried to speak to ask Rico for some clothing and maybe let him go.
"Unghft?" Chad spoke. He realized that part of his tongue was gone. Rico's motorcycle key?
"Yeah, Chad, this cat's got your tongue," Rico said dangling the key in the air before pocketing it. He could see Chad was trying his best to cover his crotch as he stood there naked. He reached in his jacket pocket and tossed Chad a jockstrap. It had property of Rico printed on it. He said, "Wear this. Don't worry you'll be overdressed compared to some of the other slaves in the club."
Chad put it on and grunted. Rico started to walk toward the club, Chad followed at his heels. Rico stopped. He reached in his other jacket pocket. He took out a leash. Chad expected to go around his neck,but Rico reached inside Chad's jockstrap pouch and fastened the leash around Chad's balls. Then with mute Chad in tow, he walked toward the club entrance.