Pillow 19 - The last report of Charley Chastity

(Female reporter into vehicle)*

The video recorder turned on with a remarkable amount of mechanical annoyance, chattering and spinning it's gears before, in the blink of an eye, the static on the screen gave way to the image of a woman.

A young woman, short, of slim build and with fair skin. She stood in the middle of the frame, outdoors in an old empty parking lot on the outskirts of some city, she was illuminated by the orange glow of a dying sunset that did no favours at all to the colour of her red suit.

“You'd better not have turned that thing on early again!” she said with a crude level of contempt.

She had long flowing chestnut hair, hazel eyes, a strong confident face with prominent sharply defined eyebrows and a thick nose. Her suit was made up of a red jacket over a white blouse with a short red skirt and strappy heels.

She was holding a mic.

Charley Chastity, she could have been a model, or at the very least a neat pornstar, but instead she was a reporter on a low tier local channel.

“This humidity is killing me!” she complained whilst brushing her hair with one hand.

“Then… Do you want to do something tonight… You know, maybe come hang out at my place…?” the guy holding the camera from outside the frame asked shyly.

Charley stared at the camera with incredulity.

“Holy hell, they send us on a two hour ride to the middle of dumbfuck-town nowhere and you are thinking about sex? Is your skull empty or something?! They didn't even have the decency to let us use a damn van!”

“The… The studio has had low rates for a while…”

“Perhaps because they insist on wasting everybody's time, starting with me, with this bullshit paranormal crap for pothead losers!”

The cameraman clearly wasn’t good at dealing with Charley's fiery outbursts.

“You used to like pot…” he mumbled. “And we don’t need a van, my bike is good enough…”

“I matured, Alex!” grunted the reporter. “And maybe you should too! Also, your bike sucks, just ask my sore ass! I even had to carry your stupid camera, for fucks sake!”

For a few moments the scene remained silent as Charley kept brushing her hair, radiating raw infatuation.

“...so…” the camera guy dared to ask. “Does that mean you don’t want to come to my place…?”

Charley had had enough, she walked towards the camera and poked the lens with her mic.

“Wake up already!” she growled. “Let’s film this garbage, get me back in town before midnight and, after I shower my sweaty cunt, if you have some booze MAYBE I'll let you lick my asshole if I'm in the mood, okay? Now focus!”

“Okay, sure, neat!”

“God-damned brain-dead moron,” muttered Charley, exasperated, she took a couple steps back into the centre of the frame. “Is my make-up presentable?”

The camera guy's thumbs up appeared at the edge of the screen.

“Yes.”

“If you are lying I’m going to kick your balls!” Charley cocked her head, shook her chestnut mane, breathed deeply and lifted the mic up. “Let’s get done with this!”

Alex's fingers began to do a countdown.

“One, two, three… ON!”

At the instant that Alex shouted ON, Charley’s expression changed into the most perfectly pleasant of smiles.

“Welcome once more, adventurers into the unknown. to another chapter of Unravelling Mysteries!” Charley’s voice was pure joy, so perfect that not even Mulder & Scully could have figured out that she was faking it. “Tonight we have come to shed some light on the mystery behind what some say is the most haunted corner in all of the Midwest: Joe Jon’s Car Wash & Stop! Missing people, horror and a lingering question: What if a mom became a sedan?”

Charley pointed with her finger and Alex followed smoothly, pointing the camera towards the sign on the abandoned car wash tunnel that lingered on top of the ruinous building.

The laughing boy in the sign had lost some of his teeth and the number two of the twenty-four number was missing.

The reporter began to walk along the outside of the building's graffitied walls as the camera guy followed her, moving between the abandoned gas pumps.

“A tragic tale of two immigrant women,” continued Charley, feigning legitimate sorrow. “The first of them came from Russia in the late 60s, Gwyneth Babucha. She was the one who built the car wash tunnel, a little stop for the drivers at a not very visited intersection of the interstate route. Since its opening rumors and mistrust had spread throughout the surrounding area, talk of terrifying mechanical sounds in the depths of the night, but by day the tunnel seemed to be a perfectly normal business. Those rumors continued for years until the cherry on top of the mysterious cake arrived in the form of Gwyneth’s disappearance. While a few would swear she changed her name and married an ambitious businessman known as Mister Vostok, more would tell you that she ended up becoming another victim of her outrageous creation in a twist of poetic justice.”

When they reached the broken door of the main store Charley covered her mic with her hand.

“Let’s go to the entrance to get a good end shot for this tale of nonsense!,” she told her partner.

The cameraman nodded.

“Yeah, good idea,” Alex answered before proceeding to follow the reporter.

Charley walked around the other side of the building, the camera behind her.

“This crap hole is ruining my heels…!” she complained after kicking away a broken piece of pavement.

“Do you think that it's true…?” asked Alex.

Without stopping Charley looked back at the guy incredulously.

“Why the heck do you always have to ask that every time we cover one of these redneck folklore lunacies?!”

“I… I read the reports and people still…”

“Alex, people can’t be turned into fucking cars! My ovaries are already swollen enough so, for the love of all that is good in this world, shut up already!”

Alex shut up and the two of them reached the entrance to the washing tunnel. It was large and wide, big enough for a truck. It looked like a dark open mouth.

It was open.

“Get ready,” ordered Charley, standing in front of the entrance.

“Ready!” Alex answered.

The reporter nodded and returned to the tale she had been building.

“This story reaches the point of horrid tragedy and teasing mystery,” she stepped inside the tunnel and pointed towards the metallic floor. “Right here is where, if the facts are to be believed, Luen Costa stood as a woman for the last time. Luen, a hard working half-Korean mother, arrived in town some years after the closing of the original car wash. Seeing a business opportunity and not being scared of a challenge, Luen bought the premises, restored them and was even the one to rename them to Joe Jon’s Car Wash & Stop. For several months the new and rebranded business worked perfectly, seemingly banishing the grim shadow of it's past, but it all came to an end before the end of that first year after the reopening. Witnesses reported that there was a small problem in the tunnel, Luen, always first in line, rushed in to solve the issue, entered the tunnel and this door slammed behind her.”

When Charley pointed at the door Alex focused the camera at it for a couple of seconds.

“Her workers tried to open it, to turn off the machinery, but they failed,” continued the reporter, catching the attention of the camera again. “That machinery in the tunnel stripped Luen naked, bound her and began to slowly drag her along the track, washing her and, as impossible as it may sound, transforming her into a car. That’s what everybody at Joe Jon’s Car Wash swore that grim day: That Luen Costa was transformed into a vehicle by her own car washing tunnel. In the police reports the witnesses gave detailed descriptions of Luen’s undesired kafkian metamorphosis, how much she begged and struggled and how, by the time she reached the other end of the tunnel, all that was left was a wine colored sedan.”

A moment of solemn silence. Then Charley repeated her opening questions.

“What if a mom became a sedan? What if flesh became metal? Is such a thing even possible? Joe Jon’s Car Wash says yes. What we know for certain is that Luen Costa, just like many others that came in contact with this haunted place, is missing to this day. Her family received the wine color sedan, reports tell us that it is still used to this day by her older son who is now in college, but his mother never came back home when her work shift ended, at least not as a person.”

The reporter positioned herself in the centre of the tunnel entrance.

“If such a thing is possible one has to ask: Is Luen still that car? A mother, a woman, a person, trapped as a vehicle to be used. Who could deserve such a humiliatingly twisted punishment?” Charley gave another small theatrical gesture to add to the drama “We may never know how such an incredible transformation became reality. For now, despite our best efforts, it remains not only a mystery, but also a reaffirmation of a lesson well known by all adventurers into the unknown: Be careful where you choose to stop on a road trip. Thanks for accompanying us on a trip into the world's dark corners once more. Tune in next week for a visit to the infamous Red Bill Saloon in an attempt to unravel its many secrets. A saloon loved by all the locals or a multidimensional gate? Discover it in the next episode! I’m Charley Chastity, reporting for Unravelling Myste-!”

The door closed with a powerful slam as if a monster had swallowed Charley whole.

“Holy shit!” Alex shouted when he realized what had happened.

It didn't take long before a series of knocks and muffled cries came from the other side of the door.

“What’s this crap! Open! OPEN!” Charley yelled, from her trapped position inside the tunnel.

The camera shook frantically, and was put down on the floor. The cameraman’s legs appeared in frame as he knelt in front of the door and did his best to try to lift it up.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” screamed the reporter.

“I’m trying…!”

Lights were turning on, machines coming back to life after a long sleep.

“Alex, what the heck are you doing? OPEN IT ALREADY!”

“I can’t… Just… Give me a second…!”

“No! Open! Open it! Don’t you dare leave me! Alex! ALEX!”

Alex picked back the camera up from the floor, the scene shook as he ran towards the corner of the tunnel. When he reached the other side he saw the windows on that side of the wall, long windows that reached all the way to the end of the tunnel.

Inside, of course, there was Charley, still hitting the door frantically with her mic.

“Charley!”

“Open, open, open!”

“CHARLEY!”

The reporter heard her partner's voice and ran towards the window.

“What’s happening?! Why are the lights on?! WHY HAVEN'T YOU OPENED THE DOOR ALREADY?!”

“I tried, but it's too heavy…!

“Then figure something out, idiot!”

“Maybe you should try to get to the end of the tunnel before… before…”

“Before what?! Put down that stupid camera and find a way to-!” Charley was interrupted when a series of tubes came out of the floor and ceiling, surrounding her in an instant.

“What the-!”

She was interrupted again when the tubes began to blow air onto her, tossing the reporter around as the force of the wind ripped her clothes, her screaming drowned out by the powerful sound of the machine.

When it was over, dishevelled and dizzy, Charley leant on the wall in front of the window, her hair covering her face. Alex zoomed in with the camera, the reporter's perky breasts, her meaty puffy vagina, her petite and desirable body… she had been left completely nude.

“W-What happened…” gurgled Charley whilst removing her hair from in front of her face.

“Why can I feel the wall with my… butt…?” looking down she realized she had been stripped naked, that helped her to continue yelling.

“Charley, stop panicking!” Alex begged from outside.

“My fuckin clothes! That suit was new!” Charley cried as she tried to cover her dignity.

Left dazzled and dizzy by the wind, one of the tubes gently pushed her and gravity did the rest. She fell right down onto all fours and as soon as her palms and knees touched the floor metallic restraints closed around her ankles and wrists, holding her in place.

“Charley!”

“No! NO! Let me go! Why is this happening to me?! STOP FUCKIN FILMING!”

But Alex didn’t, he zoomed in, focusing onto Charley’s ass, until another mechanical noise caught his attention. Above the bound reporter a door opened in the ceiling and a robotic arm with pincer fingers unfolded.

The arm was attached to a spinning device from which hung various keys, several of the spaces were empty, the pincers moved around one of the empty spaces and began to head towards Charley.

“What’s that thing?! What’s it doing?! Don’t touch me!”

The pincer rubbed against the back of Charley's head as she kept protesting and struggling, all of which had no effect, trying to liberate herself. Having failed, the arm went back to the spinner, which had spun towards another empty space.

“I can’t believe this is truly happening…” the cameraman muttered from behind the camera.

“Let me go already!” the bound reporter cried.

“You have to calm down!”

“Fuck you calm down! Turn the camera off! What’s this fucking arm trying to do?! Stop it!” the enraged Charley grunted as the pincer rubbed the nape of her neck once again.

“Charley, I'm not sure how to say this… but I think… you're gonna get transformed into some sort of car…”

“That’s bullshit!” yelled Charley. “Bullshit!” the pincer went back again into the spinner, this time it found a key. “BULLSHIT!” with mechanical precision, for the final time, the arm moved directly towards the back of Charley’s head and, without a pause or any remorse, pushed the key inside her skull. “BullSHIIIIIIIIIIIiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

Charley broke into orgasmic pleasure, Alex didn’t miss filming a second. The reporter’s eyes rolled back, her teeth clenched, her pussy as well, salivating, holding her breath as the key slid inside her flesh and bone.

Once the key was inside her, the arm retracted back into the ceiling, Charley was left in her sorry posture, gasping, moaning and sobbing, her hair down in front of her face. The next phase began, not giving her any respite, the floor on which she was held began to slowly move through the tunnel.

Alex followed it, keeping pace.

“How are you feeling…?” he asked.

The reporter shook her head, from her humiliation she looked up towards the camera, eyes shining with anger.

“I have a goddamn key inside my skull…” she struggled to say quietly before she returned to  screaming... “WHAT DO YOU THINK, ASSHOLE?!”

Her complaints didn’t stop the filming, nor did the pre-programmed sequence of the machine. A little further down the line it abruptly stopped.

“What now?!” Charley asked as she was forced to bend forward.

She ended up with her face down against the floor and her rear lifted. Another door opened in the ceiling, this time revealing a hose that swung like a black snake down towards that defenceless arse.

“Goddess…!” Alex whispered Alex as he zoomed in again into the action.

A pair of tiny pincers at the side of the hose head spread Charley’s buttocks wide open.

“What now?! What now?!” she kept asking, struggling to look behind herself.

The hose plugged into her anus, she groaned and clenched her toes. Immediately the hose began to pump liquid inside the reporter’s butt, Charley's cheeks swelled, then she gasped pushing her tongue out.

Her ears stretched on the side of her head, flattening, darkening… side-view mirrors… her belly inflated into a squared shape, became a hardened metallic black...

“It's filling your tank!” Alex explained when he understood what was going on.

“Fuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” was Charley’s answer.

Once the tank was full the hose unplugged, making a quite distinctive squishy sound, leaving the reporter’s anus as a rubber hole that was closed by the pincer with a tap.

A perfect opening for when she needed refuelling in the future.

The line began to move again, transporting the groaning woman.

It soon reached the next stop.

The camera stared impatiently as the machine stiffly spread Charley’s legs and arms into a double t pose, forcing her belly-tank to touch the floor, making a clunking noise.

Four new hoses slid down from above, reaching towards her hands and the feet, where they connected with the skin, moving beneath it.

Struggling with the added weight of her mutated metallic belly-tank was already hard enough, but that next phase of her transformation ensured that the reporter wasn’t escaping her four-wheeled fate.

The hose pumped into her body, but instead of liquid this time it was air. Palms and soles swelled, nails darkened and fingers and toes stretch, turning into chromed metal.

Her groaning continued, Alex focused on the foot closest to the camera’s lens. The whole sequence was perfectly filmed.

How the sole deformed, becoming round… the toes reshaped into tires… the dark on her nails spread, covering the circles… pneumatically dark...

That same fate was met both by her other foot and both her hands.

Behind those changes legs and arms began to elongate, receiving the metallic treatment. Thinner and immobile, covered by suspension cables that tangled around the metal like plastic poison ivy.

Charley’s bound restraint opened, she dropped flat down on her four wheels.

“Make it stop! Please!”

With a valiant attempt she tried to get up, but only managed to lift her torso slightly before going back down, moving without a driver had become an impossibility for her.

The hose, having left those tires well inflated, detached. The machine began to drag the reporter along again, as she was moved her vagina swelled, then stretched into a long tube.

An exhaust pipe.

“Please…! Pleaaaaaaaaaash… HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!”

From her lungs came the sound of a klaxon.

From the sides of the tunnel water was squirted, hitting Charley’s body, it made her skin begin to harden, her hair to fall.

Washing away the dirt… and her humanity…

As her groans deepened her body mass increased exponentially in all possible directions.

Her hardened skin swiftly became coated in dark grey, her neck disappeared inside the torso as her whole face was stretched to the left and the right.

Massive and rectangular.

Her ass grew larger along with the rest of her form, as her anus-plug slid to the side of her reforming hips and her buttocks acquired handles and became a pair of back doors.

Charley became massive and kept growing, whilst the water splashed over her and rolling brushes rubbed her transforming body.

“Hoooonk… NOOOK! Am honkllow inside!”

Alex took a couple of steps back, recognizing the vehicle his partner was meant to become.

“A van…”

By the time the reporter reached the end of the tunnel her metamorphosis hadn’t completely ended, but nobody could have mistaken her for a human. The doors opened and she rolled outside and stopped after moving a bit further.

The cameraman ran towards her, as the transforming & washing machinery turned off the sounds of the last wave of change, of flesh becoming machine, were captured perfectly on  film.

When Alex reached the back of the van he took a moment to put a hand on the rear doors, causing a metallic moaning echo from the front of the vehicle. The door was almost completely plastic, but it had a subtle look, as if it had pores.

As if only a few seconds ago it had been skin.

There was a window forming in the door, the camera approached and caught a glimpse of how the meat was being reshaped in the interior to make a couple of seats. His hand considered pulling on the door handle for a moment, but he didn’t do it, instead he rushed towards the front of the van.

There he found Charley’s face, deformed beyond parody. One of her gigantic eyes was already becoming a light bulb as she lost the ability to blink, her forehead was the windshield.

It was almost done.

The question wasn’t asked with any malice, it just came naturally out of Alex’s shocked brain.

“Any last words?”

Charley stared ahead, gritting her teeth.

“...fuck… this… job…!” the impotent whimper resounded around her empty insides, followed by one last gasp of frustration.

In a few seconds the changes came to a conclusion. Eyes turned into headlights, teeth fused into a radiator grill.

One last wave of pops, cracks and snaps.

Then silence.

For another few seconds the camera filmed the completely ordinary dark grey van, pristine after having come out of the washing tunnel. The cameraman's heavy breathing was captured  in the background.

“Fucking hell man…!” Alex muttered.

The tape ended abruptly and was spat out by the recorder.