Jen walked out the door and locked it behind her. Her trusty motorcycle waited for her in the driveway. Just as she walked over to it, her phone rang. She leaned her butt against the front of the motorcycle as she picked up the phone, completely forgetting about the curse.
“Hello, we’re calling to give you an amazing offer!” the automated voice said before Jen hung up and sighed. She went to put her phone back in her pocket but instead she heard (and felt) the phone bump against metal.
“Huh?” She said in surprise. Looking down she saw that she didn’t have pockets. Or pants. Or legs. She only saw the headlight of a motorcycle and a wheel sticking out beneath it. She quickly twisted around as much as she could and saw the rest of the motorcycle stretching out behind her. Examining her waist, there was a clear transition line where her human flesh became the cold metal of the motorcycle, which she could feel just like her own skin.
Jen started panicking, not wanting to accept reality. She squirmed and struggled to try to free herself from what was now the lower half of her body. She pushed down on the handlebars which sprung from either side of her waist, only to find that she could feel them too, just like she could feel every other part of her inanimate lower half. She was a motorcycle centaur, or a motaur.
After hyperventilating and almost crying, Jen calmed down slightly and decided she had to figure out what to do next.