As you scan your surroundings, trying to formulate words, a figure adorned with an array of extensively modified Transcostumes strides towards you. "Hey, fresh face! Don't believe we've met, I'm Steve," he greets with a warmth that eases your nerves. You admit to him your unfamiliarity with Transcostumes, never having ventured into its experience yourself. Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve springs up a proposition, unwrapping a costume for you to try. You urge him to reveal its function, but he maintains an air of friendly mischief, deliberately bypassing your queries.
The set, akin to a pair of leather trousers, sits snugly in Steve's hands. "How'd you like it - a rush or a leisurely pace?" he questions, prompting you to shrug in bafflement. As he alters a tiny apparatus hidden within one of the pockets using a screwdriver, he passes them towards you. "All yours," he announces, and catching the hesitation in your movements, he points towards a button concealed inside one pocket. "Take off your trousers, slide into these, and hit this fella once you're ready."
Embarking upon the instructions, the trousers slide onto your legs smoothly. Despite an intrigued audience now circling the scene, they courteously avert their gazes to provide you with a modest cover. The unfamiliarity of the situation fills you with apprehension, causing your palms to sweat.
"Steve, so... all I need to do now is to push that button?" you echo his instructions, seeking validation. Steve's head bobs in affirmation, setting your racing heart slightly at ease.
As you press the button, an immediate jolt of energy surges from the Transcostume, seeping into your skin and fusing with it. The mingling feels like a coded language - coexisting yet imparting something inherently new. Suddenly, there's change in your anatomy, something distinctly inhuman.
A peculiar sensation runs down your feet, firm yet transformative, akin to the shape-shifter power that you've only read about in comic books. You look down to see your feet gradually contorting, defying human biology to morph into sleek, shiny motorcycle wheels.
Sensing your bemused shock, Steve's voice punctuates the surreal air, "Kneel down, buddy. It's gonna get wild!". The advice comes off as more encouraging than alarming. As you lower your body into a kneeling position, the morphosis takes an even surreal turn.
Your lower body deviates from the familiar, as it starts expanding exponentially, with your torso and rear taking the brunt of it. Before you know it, your front and back erupt into an enormous form. A blob of something inchoate and strange, evoking both fascination and fear.
The transformation escalates in intensity, and the blob on your front begins to shift and shudder. The changes are minute at first, a little folding here, a slight indentation there, but soon, the very texture of the blob alters. Its surface, once undefined and amorphous, smoothens out into a sleek, glossy leather-like texture.
Simultaneously, a shape begins to emerge from the center of the blob, reminiscent of the wheels now attached to your feet. As you marvel, the realization dawns upon you - a third wheel is forming right before your eyes.
The wheel gradually advances, gaining definition and substance, with spokes and a rim now clearly discernible. The hardened rubber has an industrial feel to it, complete with a rugged tread pattern. The outer layer shines with an untouched newness, reflecting the faint luminescence of the gathering.
Simultaneously, the blob hunches into a formation that smartly couples the wheel. As the front wheel makes contact with the ground, you sense a subtle shift in balance. The support you seemed to lose when your feet morphed into wheels is seamlessly regained.
As the transformation progresses, your lower body starts to imbue qualities of a legendary three-wheeled luxury cruiser. The stoic presence, the unmissable bulk, the retro design, everything echoing the hallmarks of the iconic machine.
The transformation behind you is a fascinating process, almost like witnessing an expert sculptor breathing life into a shapeless mass. The expanding blob eventually cocoons your hind wheels, creating a large presence that defies your original anatomy. A shift ensues, manifesting a split.
The lower part grows denser, almost box-like between your wheels. It gives an impression of a spacious compartment, immediately reminiscent of a reliable and secure trunk. Meanwhile, the upper part begins streamlining into a vigorous shape that screams aerodynamics. There's a certain elegance to it, refined and yet conspicuously sturdy.
Every minute that passes adds another layer of detail to this transformation. The amorphous blob now materializes into a metallic creature, complete with a factory-fresh glossy blue shade. The shine of the paint gleaming against the dim lighting of the gathering hones its splendor further.
Three significant transformations take place at the rear, each amazingly precise. First, two brake lights form, their clear red casing punctuated by the stark contrast with the radiant blue metal. Second, an antenna sprouts up, as if echoing the spirit of freedom, and the thrill of an open road.
Continuing in a rhythm akin to a mechanical symphony, the transformation maintains its captivating boldness. Below the behemoth of a trunk, two metallic protuberances materialize, curving elegantly to form a pair of chrome exhaust pipes. They shine with a pristine glow, reflecting the ambient light into a spectacle of silvery glimmers.
As if these pipes are the conductors of a grand transformational performance, the initiation of their birth triggers a ripple effect. The once indistinguishable blob now appears to flow, as if liquid blue metal streaming forward. Shapes start distinguishing themselves from this blue hue, hardening into discrete forms, segmenting into unique components.
Your attention zeroes in on the center, where the distinguishing contours of an overwhelmingly powerful engine emerge. Each minute detail comes into focus, from the gleaming chrome plating that covers the powerplant, to the metal bones housing the mechanical heart of the beast. Components that seemed to have been birthed from the amorphous blob just moments before now stand proud in their solidity and conviction.
The blob, previously formless and flexible, continues to undergo an extraordinary transformation. Above your front wheel, the material morphs noticeably, its features sharpening and defining into the rigid structure of steering columns.
The blue metal along the front lengthens and widens, developing thickness and volume as it transforms. Soon, headlight and signal light cavities begin to manifest, the latter presumably destined to play host to powerful guiding lights.
The changes happen fast but not hurriedly. The blob orchestrates its transformation, maintaining a seamless grace with its slow and deliberate manifestations. The front curvatures swell out wider forming the motorcycle's batwing front cover, a classic component and protector against wind resistance.
Your eyes then catch a hint of transparency mingling with the contorting blue. The blob seems to be birthing a windshield. The structure is clear, blue-tinted but gradually, the tint fades, leaving a transparent shield that efficiently cuts the forward section of your new form, promising to keep the brunt of the wind off you.
At the heart of your newfound form, four sleek, round structures emerge, gracefully taking the shape of an instrument cluster. Each dial, perfectly symmetrical, evolves seamlessly along with the pulsating blue metal. This formation houses the on-board computer display, springing to life beneath the arrangement.
A flurry of changes bloom on either side of this panel as you see a pair of sturdy handlebars forming. Each one of them is detailed with precision, complete with mirror placements and a control system that translates into extensions of your tactile sense.
Creating a border around you, the blob transfigures into a petrol tank. With a glistening chrome strip down the middle, it branches out with that familiar shiny blue on its sides, a harmony of colors that adds a touch of elegance to your motorcycle form.
And then, quite subtly, you feel a warmth around you. Looking down, you see the blob around your torso transform into a black leather seat with a resplendent texture, that seems as if it were just an extension of your black leather pants. Behind where you sit, you feel another seat manifesting, making room to accommodate a second rider.
Suddenly, you realize this machine is an integral part of you. It is not just a costume anymore, but an intricate fusion of man and machine. The monstrous creature is now at your command. You can feel the power, the raw energy coiling beneath the cool, metallic exterior just waiting to be unleashed.
In your state of bewilderment and awe, someone finds their way to you with a full-sized mirror. You take a good look at your reflection and gasp. You no longer have a human lower body.
Instead, your lower body has now morphed into a tri-wheeled symbol of freedom and power with a majestic blue body and gleaming chrome embellishments. The radiant red lights, coupled with the sophisticated chrome exhaust pipes, add a sense of bold practicality to your form. The instrument cluster, the handlebars with mirrors and controls all scream sophistication. You see the leather seat for two, the aerodynamic trunk, and the sturdy wheels that replaced your feet. Your morphed body symbolizes a perfect amalgamation of cutting-edge technology and classic styling.
Still processing what just occurred, you find Steve grinning ear to ear, savoring your stupefaction. Your feelings are a cocktail of amazement, fear, and wonder. "Wow! That was...amazing," you manage, finding your voice.
"But... does it really work?" you voice your doubt, your gaze focused keenly on Steve, awaiting assurance.
"Well, what does it feel like?" Steve throws the question back at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Subconsciously, you find yourself running the machine’s internal diagnostic; reflecting on how natural it feels to do so sends chills up your spine. The diagnostic finishes without a hitch. All systems: no errors. Eagerly, you ignite your engine and slowly release the clutch. The feeling of a mechanical purring beneath you startles you. The motorcycle inches forward cautiously under your command. "Holy shit, it works!" you exclaim, your voice filled with wonder and excitement.
Yet, doubts creep in. This isn’t merely a motorcycle; matter of fact, you have no driver's license or experience riding one. And you certainly have no helmet, leaving you stumbling, unsure of the next steps.
"Steve… what do I do now? I don’t have a helmet, and I certainly don't have a license to drive a... well, one of these," you gesture towards your mechanical lower half, hoping Steve’s grin holds the answers you need.