this isnt even realted to kny
inspired by that one bike reddit story
smutt
bikes
traumatizing
Mike's worn sneakers scuffed against the dusty concrete as he pedaled his bike along the quiet suburban street. The setting sun painted the clouds with a soft palette of pinks and oranges, casting a warm glow over the neat rows of houses. His heart thumped in his chest with the gentle exertion of the ride, his breaths coming in steady rhythms that matched the click-click of the gears. The bike, a hand-me-down from his older brother, was a sturdy metal steed that had seen better days. Its once vibrant blue paint had faded to a dull gray, chipped and scarred from countless adventures. The handlebars were wrapped in tape that had lost its stickiness long ago, and the squeaky brakes were a constant reminder of its age. Yet, to Mike, it was a treasure that allowed him to explore the world beyond his front door.
As he rounded the corner, the landscape shifted from manicured lawns to the untamed wilderness of the woods that bordered the neighborhood. A cool breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The woods had always been Mike's sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the monotony of his schoolwork and the occasional squabbles with his siblings. He felt a thrill of excitement as the tree cover grew denser, the light dimming to a soft, green-filtered glow. The bike's tires crunched over the gravel that marked the start of the dirt path that wound into the woods.
Without warning, the bike lurched to the right, pulling Mike with it. He tightened his grip on the handlebars and leaned into the turn, trying to correct the sudden change in direction. But the bike was insistent, veering off the path and into the thick underbrush. Mike's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. He hadn't steered the bike that way; it was as if it had a mind of its own. He fought against the handlebars, his muscles straining as he tried to steer back towards the safety of the path. Thorny branches reached out like claws, snagging his clothes and leaving scratches on his arms and legs.
The bike's pace grew more erratic, dodging trees and boulders with a precision that Mike couldn't match. Panic began to bubble in his chest, a sour taste rising in his throat. He tried to brake, his fingers tightening around the worn levers, but the bike ignored his frantic commands. The woods grew denser, the light fading until it was almost dark. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the bike stopped. Mike, thrown off balance, flew over the handlebars and landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The bike, still upright, stood silently in the middle of a small clearing, as if waiting for him to catch up.
Gasping for air, Mike pushed himself up to his elbows and stared at the bike. "What the hell?" he croaked out. The words were barely audible in the stillness of the woods.And then, to his utter astonishment, the bike spoke. "Get on me," it said, its voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to come from the very earth beneath it. The sound sent a shiver down Mike's spine.
Mike scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. The bike's voice was definitely not something he had expected to hear on his quiet evening ride. He took a cautious step back, his eyes never leaving the bike. It remained still, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The voice didn't come again, but the bike's handlebars tilted slightly, as if beckoning him closer.
After a moment of frozen disbelief, Mike took a deep breath and approached the bike. He tentatively placed one hand on the seat, the metal cool and slick with dew. The bike's frame quivered under his touch, and the voice grew clearer, more insistent. "Get on me," it repeated. "You're safe with me."
With trembling legs, Mike swung one leg over the frame and lowered himself onto the saddle. The moment his weight settled, the seat transformed. The hard, plastic surface morphed into something soft, pliable, and unmistakably phallic. Mike's eyes bulged, and he tried to leap off, but the bike's frame tightened around his thighs, holding him in place. The dildo-like protrusion began to buck and twist, pushing against him in a way that was both terrifying and strangely mesmerizing.
The sensation was alien, yet somehow familiar, as if his body had been programmed to accept this unnatural intrusion. The bike's movements grew more rhythmic, more forceful, and Mike could feel the panic in his chest give way to something else. He tried to scream, but the sound was lost in the enveloping silence of the woods. The bike's piston-like thrusts grew deeper, filling him in a way that was both agonizing and exhilarating. His body responded against his will, his breaths turning to gasps as the strange pleasure built within him.
The clearing around them began to change, the trees retreating to reveal a hidden grove bathed in an unearthly light. The air grew thick with an intoxicating scent, something sweet and musky that made Mike's head swim. The bike's motions grew faster, the pressure building unbearably. He could feel the creature's power, could feel it drawing something from him, something vital and primal. And yet, he found himself unable to resist, his body moving in time with the bike's relentless rhythm.
The sensations grew more intense, the pressure building to a crescendo that Mike felt in every fiber of his being. The world around him swirled in a kaleidoscope of color, the trees and the sky and the very ground beneath them seeming to pulse with the same alien energy that now claimed him. The bike's voice grew louder, a chant that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality. "Ride with me," it whispered, its voice now a seductive purr. "Become one with me."
Mike's thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and arousal, his mind reeling from the sheer absurdity of what was happening. Yet, as the bike's thrusts grew more demanding, he found himself giving in, his body moving of its own accord. The creature's power grew stronger, its grip on him more fierce, and the line between pain and pleasure blurred into something he could no longer define. The chant grew louder, more insistent, and Mike could feel himself being drawn into the heart of the woods, into the very essence of the bike's ancient, unknowable purpose.
The world around him was a blur of color and shadow as the bike carried him deeper into the grove. The trees grew taller, their branches entwined to form a canopy that blocked out the last vestiges of the setting sun. The air was alive with whispers and distant cries, as if the very forest itself was watching, waiting for the climax of this bizarre ritual. Mike's eyes rolled back in his head, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the bike's movements grew wilder, more unpredictable.
The pressure grew to an unbearable peak, and with a final, savage thrust, Mike felt something within him give way. A white-hot bolt of energy shot through his body, arching him back over the bike's frame. The world around him exploded in a burst of light, and for a brief, exquisite moment, he was one with the creature, one with the very essence of the woods.
As the light faded, Mike collapsed forward, panting and spent. The bike's grip on him loosened, and the saddle returned to its normal shape. He slid to the ground, his legs shaking uncontrollably. The creature's voice was now a gentle murmur, soothing him like a lullaby. "Rest now," it said. "Your journey is just beginning."
Mike looked up, his eyes glazed with shock and wonder. The bike's frame was no longer metal, but a twisted, organic mass of vines and branches. The wheels had become hooves, the handlebars ant
