You settle on a nearby motorcycle which is parked along the curb. Pointing your phone at it, and then switching the camera to the selfie camera, point it at yourself. You move the percentage slider to 50/50, so you will be half woman, half motorcycle.
When you submit your response, you I feel yourself being pulled by an irresistible force towards the motorcycle. You slam into it, but instead of feeling an impact, it almost feels like you hit water, which slows down your movement more and more. Your upper half doesn’t change, but you can see your waist sliding onto the front of the motorcycle where the handlebars are. You feel a warm sensation as your body merges with the bike, the wiring that would normally connect your brain to your legs now connects it to your front fork, and you stroke your waist as your feminine hips now sprout from the top of a metal base. You run your hands along the sensitive transition line between woman and machine, your fingers bumping into the bases of the handlebars which sprout out to your rear left and rear right.
As your changes finish, you look like a modern day centaur: a motorcycle with a woman’s torso sprouting from the front. Experimentally, you reach back and grip one of your handlebars and turn the throttle, making you shudder. Your handlebars are very sensitive, and the feeling of a human hand on them is exciting.
You twist at your waist as best you can. Immediately behind your waist is your gas tank. You unscrew the lid (which feels weird) and see that you do have gas in your tank. In fact, you can feel it sloshing around. Behind that is your seat, which you can just barely reach the front of if you bend back and strain and stretch as far as you can. You blush, as it feels like you are getting close to touching your privates. Turning back around, you run your hands over where your crotch was, behind your headlight, and find nothing but smooth metal. You can still feel the metal, but it only feels like a full shadow of its former self. You wonder if your vagina is embedded in your seat, but there is no way to tell for sure as you can’t reach back that far.
You concentrate and try to will your engine to start, but nothing happens. You try moving your “legs" and see that your front wheel turns side to side, but you can’t get yourself to roll forwards or backwards. You think for a moment, and then reach back and find your keyhole. There are no keys! The owner of the bike must have put them in his pocket when he parked it here. “Does that make him my owner?” you wonder. Clearly you need your keys to start. “I wonder what the bike owner is going to think when he comes back and sees me like this? I really didn’t think this through.”
Just then, you notice a man who appears to be in his late 20’s or early 30’s walking towards you from across the street. He strikes you as very handsome, but you brush away these intrusive thoughts. He isn’t paying attention to you yet, but it’s clear that he is the bike’s rider as he pulls out his keys from his pocket. “Well, we’ll see how this goes,” you say to yourself.