Keep On Trucking

Keep On Trucking.
By John Alexander Gallin
PJ had just gotten too old for even more college. He had a lot of money. And zero employment prospects. He decided to do some charity work. Until something better came along. Maybe a year or two.
He found an ad on The Internet. One of his favourite websites. Something called The Lionheart Foundation. The biggest charity in town.
PJ was a good cat. He got good marks in school. He took care of old people and children. The worst thing he ever did was illegally download garbage. But he felt guilty for being so rich. He agreed to everything. He was doing charity work. All summer long.
The next morning he headed to the charity office. The rich part of town. Someone was there to greet him. The owner of the charity.
"Hello. My name is Professor Lionheart." He said. He was a white lion. With a black mane. And gold eyes. A very different colour scheme from PJ's brown and yellow. "Thank you for agreeing to everything"
"It's my moral responsibility" said PJ. PJ was sort of religious. The way most people are. Even most furries.
"That it is" Professor Lionheart said. "Now if you will follow me to the garage" he gestured to a rusty and oily door.
"Okay. What exactly is my job?" said PJ "Something like cleaning cars?"
"something like that" said Professor Lionheart. He locked the garage door.
The garage was empty. Of vehicles. It had everything else. Stuff like weird looking wrenches. Obsolete paint. Half destroyed technical manuals. Professor Lionheart grabbed a wicked looking oil can.
"Could you open your mouth?" said Professor Lionheart. In his most polite tone.
"What?" said PJ. Doing so involved opening his mouth. And Professor Lionheart jammed the oilcan in. PJ had a drink.
PJ was gagging. He fell down. On all fours.
"I suppose I can tell you. When you signed up for all that on The Internet. You waived all legal rights as a person. You became our property. Although we don't need any more cats right now" Professor Lionheart pointed the oilcan. Like a gun.
PJ tried to talk. But no coherent words came out. Just gasps.
Professor Lionheart stripped PJ. He took off all his clothes. And put them in a clean pile.
"I will donate all these to local charity stores. But I need to speed this up" The Professor said.
Professor Lionheart crammed the oil can up PJs anus. And emptied the rest.
"I wonder what you will become? Hopefully something good. I don't want to have to sell you at auction." Professor Lionheart watched and waited.
PJ was no longer in pain. The opposite. PJ was in heaven. He found it harder and harder to resist. Even mentally. Something was changing. There was something familiar coming out of his rear end. A regulation exhaust pipe.
PJ curled up on all fours.
"That's a good car" Professor Lionheart said.
PJ tried to talk. Only a horn honk came out.
"I suppose I can tell you." Professor Lionheart said. "We transform people. Into vehicles. Cars. Trucks. The occasional tractor. We do charity work with them. When we can. When we can't we auction them for money. Sometimes we even scrap them for parts" He gestured to the rusty and dirty wrenches.
PJ tried to scream. Only engine noises came out. It was harder and harder to resist. Even mentally.
"you're a good car. I think we're going to use you" Professor Lionheart patted PJ. Like rich people do to their luxury cars.
PJ's genitalia disappeared. Into a cheap gearbox. He started to get angular and bigger. His fur turned to cheap painted steel. And he grew corporate logos.
"And don't worry about your mind. After a few hours you will be just another car. I hope you like thinking deep thoughts about fuel efficiency" Professor Lionheart admired his property.
PJ's face erased. He grew tires and headlights. He could feel himself hollowing. And getting bigger than any possible person. He felt his mind get simpler and simpler. He stopped breathing.
"A truck. I am so proud of you" said Professor Lionheart "normally they just become compact cars. but you are a truck" PJ no longer looked like a person. But like a very strange truck. And less strange by the second.
Letters appeared on PJ. Corporate safety logos. And a license plate. PATIH. Complete with charity logo.
"Let me explain. I will drive you to your place. Company policy. I will pack up all your stuff. Since a truck doesn't need it." said Professor Lionheart. "I will donate all your stuff to our charity. By the time you are back in the garage. Your mind will be appropriate for one more truck. Straight from the factory"
The transformation was complete. PJ was a truck. Japanese. Reasonably priced. Without a single molecule of meat.
Professor Lionheart climbed in. The keys were already there. It was time to do some charity work.
PJ started mentally compromising almost immediately. He found himself thinking about turning back. And fuel efficiency. He found his mind getting simpler and simpler. More appropriate for a truck. He did not recognize his house when Professor Lionheart parked.
Professor Lionheart packed everything. Everything that could be given to charity. Computers. Coins. Clothing. All the way down to baby toys. Professor Lionheart made a note to hand out all the food and drinks around the office. So nobody asked questions.
The truck didn't ask questions. The truck was a truck.