Will placed a hand on the cool metal of the motorcycle and glanced back to the tattoo parlour. The windows were partially obscured by papers showcasing tattoo designs and posters for music events in the town. He could just about see the biker holding out a scrunched up sheet to the artist and pointing to his forearm before they both left to a back room to get the work done. Looking around the street, he couldn't see anyone who could rat him out. Was he really going to go through with this? The keys in the ignition shone bright in the street light, beckoning to him. The biker didn't deserve to have such a fine vehicle if he was this careless. It was like he was begging for it to be stolen. He'd made up his mind.
Will ran back to the alleyway where he'd kept his bike and wheeled it out to the front of the parlour. To think he'd been riding about on this piece of shit all evening. It was made for a child more than half his current size, he was surprised it hadn't snapped under the bulk of his enlarged frame. Will unceremoniously dumped it to the floor and reached out for the motorcycle, kicking up the kickstand. He didn't expect it to be so heavy and almost crushed his leg as it fell to the floor. Luckily he caught it before it hit the ground, regaining control and dragged it away from the parlour. He kept up the pace through the empty street until he thought he was a safe enough distance to not be caught if the biker heard him start the engine.
Grabbing the helmet off the seat, Will pulled it over his head and stuck a leg over the frame, balancing the bike between his thighs. He savoured the moment as he turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared into life, loudly echoing around the silent road. He fiddled with the controls, finding it a lot more complicated than he first assumed it would be. However it wasn't his first time in the seat of a motorcycle. He'd had a fascination with them ever since his older cousin, well much younger now, had bought one a few years back. Will had visited him once and begged him to show how everything worked. Within minutes, he was speeding down the road, the roar of the engine likely disturbing everyone's sleep. Will had no idea where he was going yet he knew he needed to find a place to sleep for the night.
Will had managed to sober up enough to keep control of the bike, yet his driving was still clumsy and erratic. Over time, he managed to get a hang of controlling it and it wasn't long before he was practically an expert. However this meant the curse had came back into effect, as Will aged from thirty six to thirty nine. Going from riding a bike everywhere to using a motorcycle had a negative impact on his weight, his frame softening slightly and his small paunch growing back into a solid gut that shook with the vibration of the cycle. More grey hairs stained his beard and turned the tip almost entirely grey, while it also grew out an extra half-inch, starting to look scraggly. The grey sparsely spread up his cheeks and eventually sprouted around his temples and lightly littered the back of his head. His hairline dramatically receded over his head, while a bald patch quickly expanded on his pate, leaving a thin strip of hair separating them both. In retaliation, the remaining hair on his head retracted back into his skull until it was a dark shadow of stubble staining his overwise smooth scalp. Faint lines creased around his grinning lips and cut into the corners of his scrunched eyes, failing to vanish once he opened them.
After half an hour of travelling, Will had cleared his home town and was driving on open highway. A gas station came into view and he figured it was best to stop and ask for directions, maybe even fill up his tank just in case. He slowed to a halt outside the gas station and jumped off the motorcycle, putting down the kickstand, and taking the keys out of the ignition. He wasn't going to make the same mistake that the sucker he stole it from made. He patted his stomach with a frown, he'd certainly gained a bit more weight during the journey. It wasn't a huge amount and he could still feel muscle underneath the flab but it was still worrying. After Will pulled his helmet off, he felt an uncomfortable cool breeze across his head. He ran a hand over his scalp, finding the sudden unexpected mix of rough stubble and smooth skin in place of his full head of hair unnerving. Just how far would this aging go? It seemed to occur at random, or at least he hadn't figured out a pattern to it yet. Will shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts while filling up the bike and walked into the station.
Inside was a bored looking attendant at the counter, reading a magazine to pass the time. He had long, limp hair surrounding his shoulders that looked as greasy as the pimpled skin on his face. He was shorter than Will and, he felt a twang in his chest at the thought, probably young enough to be his son, looking no older than eighteen. The teen looked up at the large, heavily-built man and flinched. Will smirked at his reaction, he must look intimidating as fuck with his shaved head, thick beard, and multiple tattoos. He decided to play the part, stomping up to the teen who was trying to disguise how worried he was. Will growled "Where's the nearest place to spend the night?".
The teen stammered while he tried to remember while Will cracked his knuckles to pass the time, revelling in how scared he was making the store attendant. He finally said in a high squeak "Th-there's plenty of p-places in town".
Will slammed a fist onto the counter, making the teen recoil from him, and he said "No! I'm getting away from town, need somewhere far from here".
The teen clicked his fingers and yelled "There's a small motel a few miles down the interstate, please don't hurt me!".
Will relaxed his posture and dug into his pockets for the thick wad of cash he'd taken from home, throwing a few bills at the teen. "For the fuel" he muttered, before heading out the door and getting back onto his bike, leaving the pimpled teen to catch his breath from the scary encounter.