Madame Illusia sweetly asked Muzu and Larry, "So, what do you two nice-looking men have to say about my show so far?" Larry was quick and boisterous to pipe up without even sharing a glance with his foreign protege.
"Aw sheeit, I caint git enuff o this hocus pocus. Look at that slut over there lickin' er new dog sack. She was sexy ho before she came up here; would a banged her myself. Now she gon' be fuckin her own bitches. And remember that wussy who turned hisself into a dildo? HAHAHAHA!" Larry guffawed. Madame herself chuckled a bit with him, but rather more daintily. Muzukashi expertly hid his disgust, or so he thought. Taught to always be polite, he managed some reserved words of praise of his own:
"You are very talented woman, Illusia-san," he said with an even voice and a slight bow. The sorceress grinned widely. "So polite," she responded to him. Then she asked what the two of them would be if they could be anything.
"Wait, you mean you gonna change HIM AND ME into somethin'?!" Larry exclaimed as though it were the biggest surprise on earth. The gentleman accompanying him remained silent.
"Well, yes, of course, my good man! Has anyone left this stage unchanged tonight? Surely there must be something you've fantasized about, something in your life you could escape from with a little magic push. Say the word, and I can make it happen."
Once again not even acknowledging the presence of Mr. Otoko, Larry thought for himself and gave his own dumb thoughtless answer. "Well, I'm a strong dude, any way you can make me even stronger?" he said, pulling up his sleeve and showing off his muscles.
"Why yes, that's an easy wish for me, and how strong you already are! Do you see his muscles, everyone?"
Some of the audience oohed, some of the audience aahed, some whistled or applauded and some laughed or booed. Larry chose to only hear the ones who thought he was sexy. His guest chose to pretend he was back home in Japan. The Madame asked, "Tell me Larry, do you like trucks?"
"Fuck yeah, who don't like trucks?! Give me a jacked-up flatbed pickup any day! Them's better than woman, ain't that right, Kashi?"
The embarrassed Japanese businessman did not answer. But the seductive performer did: "Well they're certainly stronger than even the buffest men. Come on, ladies and gentleman of the audience, what truck do you think is most befitting of our well-toned volunteer?" They all started shouting out truck makes and models. Larry piped up again after hearing one of them: "Hey, did you hear that? 85 GMC Sierra. I'd love one of them babies in my garage! Course it'd have to be like new condition. Red white 'n blue paintjob. LED headlights. All-leather interi-HOOOOONK!"
Larry seemed more shocked than anyone at the harsh, mechanical bray he'd been interrupted by. He tried to talk some more but only made his new car-horn sound again. The Madame, however, could still speak: "You're not just going to HAVE a Sierra in your garage, you're going to BE the Sierra in a garage!" The audience screeched and applauded. Larry beeped again but a weird, satisfied smile overtook his face with the car-horn sound played Dixie. He gave a big thumbs up, before his hand started shaking and stretching wide into a metal wheel. His other hand quickly followed suit. Blackness soon appeared around the edges, and the sound of air sucking in revealed the formation of front tires. He looked down at them and then smiled toward Muzukashi. The Japanese man could not bring himself to smile back, and yet he sensed it might be rude to frown.
Larry stretched his tires to his sides and lowered himself to the stage floor. The audience applauded again. He couldn't help but honk again when his shoes split and his feet inflated like his hands. Realizing he was on four wheels instead of on two legs now, he experimented. His arms and legs wouldn't budge at first, but something loosened up around them as his limb bones became his new axles. He even managed to get them turning in the same direction, so he was wheeling around the stage belly-down. The sound was like a car getting wheeled into a showroom. Discovering his new brakes, Larry brought himself to a stop.
His front wheels were forced apart from his back wheels when his body stretched and widened, getting bigger in every direction! Larry felt pleasure all through his growing form and moaned. Was his voice back? For a moment, it was. And then his low hum got louder, and more rumbly, and a new warmth fired up within him, as his groaning turned to engine noise. The internal combustion heat might have scorched his skin if it hadn't started turning to metal in full view of everyone. His eyes were brightening, his head was becoming square, and the metallic sheen was taking the patriotic colors of the country Muzukashi Otoko was visiting. A wide, rectangular hole was deepening where his butt used to be, the beginnings of his new truck bed. A hump grew on his back, clear glass appearing and showing seats and a steering wheel inside. His two eyes, aiming forward, split into four painfully blue headlights, the LEDs he'd wanted. The growing and reshaping slowed to a stop, and it was done. What was once a man was then a spotless 1985 GCM Sierra with a blue hood, white doors, and an otherwise red body. Torn clothing was scattered around it on the floor. The engine revved a few times and then the new truck sat there idling, seemingly waiting to be taken for a spin.