Trusty old tractor I (Monthly tale - 57)

(Woman into vehicle)

Single, widow, mother, farmer.

Since her husband died Gilda Bloombee had tried her best to keep the business running.

Yet debt was strangling the farm.

They were about to lose it all to the bank.

And then the tractor broke.

Gilda sank into despair and into the bottom of a bottle, but it was there, drinking in the town’s saloon, that a shady figure offered her a solution to all her problems.

Or at the very least one of them.

A key.

The shady figure explained to her the rules and the risks, what it would cost and what it could cost. Having no better plan Gilda took the key, wondering since then if everything was a dream. After the hangover had passed she used the key for the first time, expecting nothing to happen she found herself transforming in the most incredible of ways.

It was terrifying.

It was hot.

Probably the only reason she’s still a woman today is because of the dubious luck of her loud shouts and lewd moans making one of her trusty farmhands find her half transformed. Since that event the scheme was set in motion, harvesting season wouldn’t stop, they still needed a tractor and Gilda was cheaper than buying a new one. It must be her who was the one enduring that humiliation, it was her responsibility as a boss, her duty. She wouldn’t let doubt enter her thoughts on that, preferring to rather end her humanity than let anybody else take the risk.

For three years she existed in that duality between person and thing.

Three years carrying the world on her back.

Harvesting season was about to begin again.

Early in the morning, after a night of light sleep, Gilda slid out of her bed.

She also slid out of her clothes and stood naked in front of the large full length mirror in her bedroom.

“Hmmm…”

Gilda was a medium sized white woman with medium to small breasts, average, with the exception of her enchanting deep blue eyes. The farmer had always been insecure about her looks, not seeing any beauty in herself, even if she never spoke those thoughts out loud. Her nose was too round, ears too big, eyebrows too thin, too many freckles, her auburn hair too limp and greasy and lacking in lushness.

She only saw imperfection.

With a sigh she put a hand under one of her boobs and pinched the thick nipple.

“You are an out of date model…” she mumbled and glanced at her crotch in the reflection. “Maybe I should shave…”

Probably, but she didn’t.

The farmer went straight to the shower. Underneath the warm water, with her back against the wet wall, she fingered herself to no avail. Not emitting a single sound, not reaching orgasm.

Only frustration.

After drying herself she spent quite a long time picking out her underwear, after gathering some courage she picked a fancy lacey set she had recently bought. Then she dressed: Red plaid shirt, blue overalls, wool socks, sturdy boots. The sun had risen over the field by then and she needed some breakfast before going to work.

While eating in the kitchen she had a video phone call with her daughter, Gracie, Gilda’s pride and joy who was studying in another country thanks to her hard work on the farm. The pair had their usual amicable mother-daughter conversation, chatting about their plans for the day and other mundane things until Gracie tried to not too subtly shift the chat towards Gilda’s romantic life.

“It’s been three years, mom,” pleaded Gracie. “You have to move or you're gonna turn to rust!”

“I have moved on!” proclaimed Gilda. “I’m a hybrid now!”

“What?”

“Nothing, forget that! Look, I have a lot of work today, so I’ve gotta get going! Have a wonderful day, sweety, don’t forget to have lunch!

“Wait, mom…!”

Gilda hung up.

She deflated in her seat, munching the rest of her toast and egg in silence.

After finishing breakfast she picked the key from the it’s spot.

It was a tiny key, with a round black rubber bow and slightly green blade without many teeth.

Holding the key tightly she left the house and walked all the way to the barn.

The farm was focused on harvesting rather than husbandry, only having a few chickens around, and so the barn was used more as storage for the farming equipment.

Junior was already waiting for her, sitting on top of a large plough.

Junior, the chief farmhand, the one that keeps her secret.

Her driver.

Junior gleefully greeted her when he saw her enter the barn.

“Morning, ma’am!” he said with a big smile.

He was a tall man, a good looking guy five years younger than her. Short brown hair, tanned skin, wearing working pants and a shirt that didn’t hide his well toned muscles.

“Morning…” mumbled Gilda after closing the barn doors, hating how dry and gruff she sounded as she approached her driver. “Hope you are well rested because we aren’t finished today until the west field is done.”

While Junior was eager to work, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing out the elephant in the room, despite knowing very well what answer he could expect.

“Uhhh, Gilda, ma’am, boss, maybe… Maybe this time you could skip… the tractor, let me be the one…”

“No!” immediately denied Gilda. “Don’t even think about it, we already talked about the issue, it’s settled!”

“But…!”

“But nothing! I’m the boss and I decided, it’s my burden to deal with, if you don’t want to do it anymore, fine, I will find another driver.”

Junior shook his head.

“Sigh, no, it’s fine, okay, I just want to help you… It seems that you really hate the idea of riding me.”

The boss’ cheeks turn redder than when she was a tractor.

“S-Stop with the nonsense! Let’s get to work already!”

She tossed the key to Junior, which had no problem grabbing it in midair.

“Your wishes are my orders, boss,” he said with a smile.

“Of course they are…!” Gilda grumbled.

She untied her boots, after the boots she took off her socks, unbuttoned the overalls, letting them drop to her feet, removed her shirt. While Gilda left her boots and folded clothes on top of a nearby box, Junior raised an eyebrow.

“New panties?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Gilda, standing in her underwear, looked back at him, she fondled her hair.

“Yeah…” she answered. “It was on sale, do you like it?”

“It’s fine, fancy, but you should take it off or it will be torn apart.”

“Ah, yes, you are right…” mumbled Gilda.

She removed the bra and the panties, leaving them with the other clothes.

Covering her nudity as well as she could she walked to the middle of the barn and knelt down, one arm over her breasts, thighs close together, with her free hand she moved her hair, leaving her neck free.

“I’m ready,” is all she needs to say.

Junior walked behind her and knelt down too, he put one of his firm hands on Gilda’s shoulder… and the key against the nape of her neck…

He pushes with the key.

To nobody's surprise the key slides inside the flesh.

The farmhand moved backwards as his boss bends backwards.

Gilda covers her mouth with both hands as a pulse of electricity rushes through every fibre of her nerves, shaking her with pleasure.

“Good Goddessshh!” she cries and curses. “Why does it have to feel so damn gooooooooood! Ahhh! AHHHHHHHH!”

Her body convulses, the changes begin.

Her ass swells abruptly as the usually demure farmer sticks her tongue out with pure lust. Gilda’s arse continues inflating into absurd proportions, the buttocks spread wide open, exposing her anus and vagina. As her butt keeps growing the buttocks move further to the sides, becoming rounder, the tense surface of the skin acquires the thick pattern similar to that of a pneumatic tyre and darkens into rubber.

Their growth doesn’t pause for a second.

Gilda puts her hands on the floor as her gigantic rear becomes larger than her human body. Her breasts begin to inflate at the same time, pumped with imaginary air, growing larger, but not as large as her ass.

Her enormous ass.

The enormous back wheels of a tractor, two wheels, one attached to each side of her trembling hips.

“NGHHHHHHHH! MHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

She leant her neck, biting her lips, her enlarged tits moving to the sides too, turning into chunky rubber too. The twist of flesh shifting into heavy metal and hydraulics, her vagina shook and opened.

Junior whistles.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I see it, ma’am… it’s always incredible to watch you transform.”

Gilda’s pussy stretched forward into a tube that landed on the floor with a loud clunk.

She can’t hold it any longer.

“Fuuuuuuuck mmmmmMMMHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!”

Under her armpits her boobs are also well on their way to wheels, her nipples perpetually harden into metal in the middle of forming tires. Below her torso her belly squares into a tank, her anus pops out to make a filler neck while her exahust-cunt raises from the floor and stiffly elongates further. Gilda’s reshaping form stands unevenly over the wheels that moments ago were her ass and tits.

“HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!”

The unreal pleasure.

Every inch of her flesh slowly turning into a machine.

Bone, muscle, nerve, skin…

Bolts, gears, tubes, wires, engines…

Her hair falls out, from her head, from what’s left of her crotch, she sobs, horny. Arms and legs twisted against her will into bars to attach ploughs and similar things a tractor is supposed to drag over the dirt, her rib cage expands barreling the main frame into a rectangular shape.

Everywhere the remaining skin hardens into a sturdy red chassis.

Junior moved closer and put a hand on the tractor-woman’s back, beneath his palms he felt as the sweaty skin became black leather, the flesh swelling into a padded seat. A steering wheel and several levers were sprouting between Gilda’s shoulders.

“I’ve been wondering for a while…” mumbled Junior with amazed reverence, softly rubbing the seat. “When you are a thing do your parts still… feel…?”

Gilda’s neck was widening to match the rest of her bodywork, soon it would be the turn of her bald head. Breathing was no longer an issue in her state, her honking voice echoing deep inside her inner hollows.

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuush…! I feeeeeeel everythooOOOONK!”

She clenched her teeth as the changes reached her head, but couldn’t close her eyes. Her eyelids remained open as her head expanded into the front part of the tractor she was. Her eyes inflated out of their sockets, giving her a bug-like appearance for a brief moment before her face is stretched out in all directions. The blue of her irises expand and glassifies, a tube grows in the middle of the squared skull, her gritted teeth remade into a grill for the motor, the remaining facial features are completely gone.

The farmer lady disappears.

The tractor makes the longest of honks despite nobody pressing its horn, a gasp of smoke comes from every exhaust.

The changes conclude.

Junior steps back.

A tractor, a big red tractor with blue headlights stands immobile in the middle of the barn. One of those old models without a drivers cabin, the kind you would imagine drawn in the cover of a book about farming near corn stalks, but this looks brand new. A sturdy looking vehicle, it has no registration plate, but on one of the sides of its front, what would been Gilda’s cheek if she was still woman, there's a word written with fancy silvery letters: Bloombee

The farmhand inspects the tractor, once he’s sure the transformation is complete he grabs a gas can. It’s hard not to think about the filler neck being his boss’ anus as he unfastens the cap from the opening and pours in the fuel. It's hard not to think about the metal nipples in the middle of the front wheel’s tires… that the large back wheels are her ass… the back exhausts her vagina…

The tank is full.

Junior closes it, leaves the empty can, pulls a hat from the back pocket of his pants to his head.

“Time to work, ma’am,” he says, trying to maintain the appearance of professionalism and not to wonder about the naked Gilda he sees out of the corner of his eye.

Soon the rest of the farmhands arrived.

Sometimes they complained about Gilda never being around for ploughing, but Junior made sure to quickly shut down such protests. The workers attached the heavy plough to the tractor, the chief farmhand sat in the driver’s seat and turned the key.

The machinery awoke, the powerful motor grumbled.

Levers were pulled, a sole pressed the pedal and the big wheels of the tractor began to spin.

Junior drives to the west field and the tough methodical process of preparing the soil for the crops starts. While the farmhands do their tasks the tractor accomplishes its purpose with strength and efficiency instead of grace.

Gilda, the farmer lady, the boss, the owner of the land, was nowhere to be seen.

Only the tractor.

A tractor… that is both a thing and person.

While the hot engine shakes with life, Gilda is there, behind the pumping of the hydraulics, the spinning of the gears, behind the metal and the rubber. An apparition nobody can see or hear, or so she hopes, a banshee in the machine impervious to the exterior world. Aware of her surroundings and feeling every inch of her vehicle-self, Gilda is there in the field as a fully naked apparition of her human-self. A force that couldn’t be questioned obligated her to remain within an arm’s length of her physical mechanical form, but in that very limited space she could move and float as she pleased.

Junior’s weight on her back, her gigantic boobs and buttocks crushing the ground, the combusting of the fuel in her groin.

It makes her tremble as hard as her motor.

As a woman she wouldn’t dare to walk those fields nude despite being their owner, as a tractor she is free to do so, free even if bonded and humiliated.

No worries about shame, no judgement of inadequacy.

Such a simple pleasurable existence, to just exist while being used.

Gilda floats above her tractor’s rear, leans back in the air, puts her feet on the back exhaust and rubs the heated tube with her toes while fingering her pussy with both hands.

The first time she changed she was terrified, now, after so many times, that horror, that tempting risk, only makes her hornier. She spreads her legs wide, imagines her banshee form untangling into threads, vanishing into nothing, becoming one with the machine, just a tractor that wouldn’t change back when the key is spun counter clock and has to be left in the barn.

She’s not worried about that outcome, she’s in control, in pleasure, masturbating.

Nobody can see or hear her.

The tractor hopes somebody could.

That’s the real secret.

This is the real her.

A pervert that doesn’t deserve to be a person, a lustful moron that would be happy being a thing.

No more frustration, no more constraints.

Finally sexual catharsis, she can moan and cry.

Struck by a million orgasms, smoke came out of her exhausts.

The tractor motor overheats, Junior pulls back, lowering the speed.

Behind him Gilda’s apparition floats, curling and shivering in bliss, rubbing her erogenous zones while being slowly dragged along by her mechanical existence.

Nobody can see or hear her.

With the exception of Junior, of course, her driver, who would have a hard time daring to tell her how beautiful she looks while masturbating without restraint.

Junior has one hand on the steering wheel of the tractor, the other firmly grabbing one of the levers. While Gilda purrs in orgasmic heaven he sweats, his expression serious, stiff, stiff as the erection in his pants.

A long hard day of work ahead.