Tucker exited the driver’s seat—after buttoning up his pants and stuffing his tits back under his t-shirt. He might’ve been a bimbo with a craving for cock, but he was a decent bimbo. No one was going to get a free look at his naughty parts. He sashayed back to the motel room, dreaming of cock, thinking of taking Rodney’s piece of meat between his fat tits and sucking him dry. And fucking him. The blowjob in the bathroom had been the preview. Tucker hoped that this trucker dude had the energy to keep up with him, because he wasn’t slowing down until he had a hot load inside his pussy.
At the room door, he found a pair of g-string panties hanging around the knob. Tucker giggled and grabbed them. The piece of fabric that was designed to go in his crack was no wider than floss, and the crotch had words printed on it: CLAIM YOUR PRIZE with an arrow pointing downward.
He tiptoed into the room and made a beeline toward the bathroom to put them on immediately.
Zane woke to the sound of footsteps. He yawned and flopped over to the side of the bed, grasping bleary-eyed at an alarm clock. The red LED numbers gradually came into focus. 7:32 AM. With a little bit of concentration, he deduced that Nevada was on west coast time, and they had about four-and-a-half hours to reach Sacramento by noontime. And that was three hundred miles away. They’d have to haul major ass to make it there. He whipped the covers off his body, rubbed his eyes, and slowly sat up.
All the footsteps must’ve belonged to Tucker. But that wasn’t who he saw. A blonde girl was stuffing clothes into Tucker’s suitcase and checking her appearance in the long mirror next to the ancient tube television. Did Tucker get himself a hooker last night? This lady friend of his had a nice rack and a killer ass. He about spoke up then, but stopped himself when he saw her outfit. Her “shorts” were actually pants that had the legs crudely torn off. Same with the t-shirt, which bared a smooth midriff. All the clothing on her body belonged to Tucker—except for the blue straps riding high on her hips. Is that a fucking g-string under there?
Zane eased himself up to a standing position. “Who the hell are you?”
The woman turned, saw that he was up, and gave him a disgusted look. “Don’t talk to me, Zane. It’s over between us. Always has been since you couldn’t get that dick up anymore.”
“What?” Zane glanced at his crotch.
The woman played with her hair in front of the mirror. “I need a man that can actually please me. And he better have a pecker I can get my hands around. No offense. Some gals out there like a man with a small penis. I just ain’t one of them. Now, since I know you’re the understandin’ type, you won’t get mad at me when I tell you I’m leaving right now.”
Zane’s jaw dropped. “I don’t … understand. And you didn’t answer my question. Who the hell are you?”
He didn’t see Tucker around. It wasn’t like his friend could’ve gotten lost inside the motel room. Unless Tucker was outside somewhere grabbing a drink from the vending machine, or signing out at the main desk. No, probably not. He wouldn’t leave some strange woman behind in the room while Zane was still sleeping. And she was using Tucker’s suitcase.
She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “You hit your head or something? My name is pretty easy to remember, Zane. It’s Joyce. It’s always been Joyce. It rhymes with voice. And you ain’t never complimented my sweet voice.”
“I—”
“Save it. This is the last goodbye. Don’t worry about me.” She grabbed the suitcase and started for the door. “I got a ride waitin’ for me out there by the road. He’s a real good man. Much better than you. And he’s older—he’s got experience with girls like me. He understands my needs more than you. And I’ve already sucked his cock once, too! And it was good!”
Holy shit, Zane thought. That was Tucker! But that didn’t make any sense. Tucker wasn’t a busty chick. But somehow, someway the Joyce persona had come to life. She sounded just like Tucker when he used that fake voice on the CB radio. Damn, Tucker. Nice tits! He really filled out that t-shirt well. And those shorts were super tight over his round ass. Zane felt something in his pants stirring to life. Oh God I hope this doesn’t make me gay.
But then Tucker—or Joyce?—was out the door and stomping across the parking lot, ignoring the Dodge Charger and heading for the road.
“Hey, wait a second!” Zane shouted, rushing out after her in his boxers. “Hey, what the fuck is going on?”
“I told you what was goin’ on!” she said. “You’re not man enough for me, so I’m getting someone else!”
Then Zane saw it. The black semi parked by the side of the road right outside the motel. It was the same one from yesterday, the same one they had followed through the construction zone and driven alongside of. There was no company name on the door, and the trailer was equally blank. It was him.
“Hey, Tucker! Or Joyce … whatever the hell your name is! Stop! You don’t want to go with him!” He raced up to the woman and yanked on her arm, but she pulled free. “Tucker, I know you’re in there.”
“Tucker? Is that your gay lover? Whatever, Zane. I told ya all my feelings. You ain’t getting any more out of me. I’m moving on. That means see ya later for good.”
The passenger door of the big rig popped opened, and Zane saw two steel barrels looking him right in the eye. He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands up, suddenly feeling a cold sweat running down his back. The traffic continued to pass, but no one was paying them any attention.
“Just the girl will be getting aboard,” the man said. He face was hidden in shadow. “Rodney just wants her. You make one wrong move and I’ll blow your brains out, boy. The girl’s made her decision, so I say you better beat it. You know your way home.” He laughed. “Come on, Joyce. Leave Mr. Limp Dick behind and hop up in my truck.”
“Yes, mister,” Joyce said. “I’ve been waiting all night for this! You couldn’t get here quick enough!”
“Tucker!” Zane screamed, hoping that his friend’s real name might jog some of his memory. But Joyce wasn’t listening. She wanted to get up in that truck. She eagerly took her place on the passenger seat and waved at him. The man behind the wheel put his gun away, the door slammed shut, and the big rig accelerated on, leaving Zane in a cloud of dust.
“Tucker!”
It wasn’t actually him. Zane kept telling himself that. Tucker wasn’t in control. It was still his body—though vastly changed—but he wasn’t operating it. Some new personality had taken over. Maybe Tucker was still in there somewhere, imprisoned in his own head. And maybe there was a way back. Given Rodney’s demeanor, this probably wasn’t the first time some guy had changed into a girl and gotten into his truck. Was Pamela a guy once, too? And parts of her brain had been found on the interstate. That meant Rodney would use Joyce until he got tired of her. After that, no more Tucker. No more making it to Sacramento for Alicia’s wedding—though the odds of getting there on time were slim at best now, unless one of them invented a time machine.
Zane watched until the big rig was a tiny spot on the horizon. Then he turned and saw Tucker’s Dodge Charger still sitting in the parking lot. He ran back into the motel room and looked on the dresser. Joyce hadn’t bothered to take the keys.
Joyce’s heart was fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. She looked out over the long hood of the truck, and then at the man sitting in the driver’s seat with his thick handlebar mustache and trucker cap, and then at his crotch. She had imagined this moment since hearing his voice over the CB radio, but nothing compared to the clarity of actually being in the passenger seat. She was beginning to get awfully warm between her legs.
“So where are we headin’?” she asked cheerfully. She didn’t really care about the answer. It was only smalltalk.
“San Fran,” Rodney told her. “And then back the other way. This ride ain’t got no stops.”
“Is that near Sacramento?”
“A little ways past it. Why?”
“No reason.” Something about Sacramento was important, bu
t she couldn’t remember what. Maybe there was someone she knew in Sacramento. Maybe not. Some parts of her brain were clouded, but others—like her desire for Rodney’s cock—were astonishingly clear. She kept stealing glances at his crotch, and every time she did that bulge seemed a little bigger, a little more prominent. Rodney was doing the same—ogling her tits, eyeing her curves, undressing her. Joyce blushed and toyed with a lock of her blonde hair. The inside of the cab was feeling rather stuffy.
Rodney took his eyes off the road for a moment. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined ya, Miss Joyce. And your voice is even better in person. Rodney knew you’d be pretty. You made the right choice leaving that boy of yours behind. He didn’t look like a real man.”
Joyce giggled. “Thanks, mister. And you ain’t so bad yourself.” She reached out and brought her fingers down his shoulder, feeling how thick his arm was. She scooted closer, and the hand went down to his waist and his belt buckle. It traced across the apex of his ominous bulge. “It’s about time I got to thankin’ ya.”
“That’d be mighty fine of you, Miss Joyce. It’s a long road ahead, and we ain’t got nothin’ but time to kill from here on out. I’ll know you’ll be good.”
Joyce grasped it. It was all she ever wanted to do since first seeing it inside that dirty bathroom stall. We meet again, she thought. She started stroking her hand back and forth, just lightly feeling where the shaft of it was swelling. Boy his pants really started to look tight. She loved that. The sight of it had perked her nipples up, and now they were making little tents in her shirt. She tweaked the left one and moaned softly. Goddamn it felt good. She pictured herself as a child again on Santa’s lap, telling him everything she wanted for Christmas. Of course he never fulfilled his end of the deal. But this time … this time Santa had come through.
“Yeah, you got it,” Rodney said. “Miss Joyce, use that sexy voice you have. Get it really hard.”
Joyce smiled. “You like having that big dick stroked, do ya?”
“I do.”
“And when I play with my big titties while I’m stroking your dick?”
“Rodney loves that too. Why, he loves damn near everything about a pretty lady like you.”
“Good.”
Someone had lit a fire in her pussy. Joyce felt the juices running down there. It wouldn’t be long before that g-string underwear was completely soaked all the way through. That’s the way Rodney wanted it. The hand upon her breast went southward, and she rubbed her pussy through the makeshift shorts, feeling the swollen lips jutting out ever so slightly. Touching Rodney’s dick had gotten it really sensitive. She lifted one foot onto the dash and started flicking her little clitty. He probably loved that.
His dick sure did. Joyce felt it becoming fully hard. Keeping it inside his pants seemed like a waste, so she slowly pulled the zipper down and reached inside. Rodney didn’t complain. Once she had her fingers around it, she gave it a few tugs before pulling it free. She loved the sensation of the thick shaft pressing into her palm, throbbing as his heart started to race just as much as hers did. And the tip of it couldn’t have been any more swollen. She swirled her hand around it, squeezing intermittently, all while her own hand quickened at her sopping-wet snatch.
“You like that, mister?”
“Uh-huh. You got the touch. How ‘bout I return the favor while you keep doing that?”
Joyce giggled. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Rodney kept one hand firmly on the big wheel as he reached over and fondled one of Joyce’s tits. His fat fingers made quick work of her shirt, diving underneath. She watched as the tight fabric outlined it all, and felt as he kneaded the warm, yielding flesh over and over again. Sparks went off in her loins, and she continued to rub herself, fully living in the moment of having her fantasies come true. Rodney gave her hard nipple a few twists, and a squeal came rushing from her throat.
“Them right there are some perfect tits, Miss Joyce.”
“Yeah?” She bit her bottom lip. “And what about my pussy?”
“Well, let’s see.”
Joyce couldn’t contain herself. She was squirming, and Rodney saw it. There was no way he didn’t. He gave her tit a playful slap before heading on down. She had already unbuttoned her shorts and exposed her tight g-string underwear—wet, just as she expected. Rodney pushed a finger down the center of her warm mound and rubbed her hard. Everything was on fire down there, and she couldn’t stay quiet. With the sodden fabric yanked aside, and his finger making the crawl toward her hot entrance, she really started to moan. The pleasure spiked when it hooked inside her and thrust in deep.
“Oh, mister! Oh!”
“Mmmm, warm and tight just like the best of ‘em.”
Rodney moved into the passing lane without missing a beat, thrumming away on Joyce’s pussy. She glanced out the passenger window as the big rig motored by a minivan packed full with a family of six or seven. They didn’t even notice her. She clenched the seat, quivering with pleasure. Rodney’s finger slammed all the way in, and Joyce’s orgasm came. Just like that. She screamed out in ecstasy as delicious cream came rushing into her g-string panties and ran all down her thighs. Rodney had himself a taste—as any man should.
“Ain’t had any honey better than that!”
Joyce smiled and winked. She was glad he approved. One orgasm wasn’t enough to slow her down, however. Her pussy still burned, and all that extra juice only made it easier to penetrate herself. Two fingers dove inside her tight hole as she reached across the cab and tugged on Rodney’s cock again. Time to pay him back.
He petted her head. “That’s a good girl, right there. Girls like you be hard to come by these days. Rodney thinks so. Girls that know their place, I mean … that know how to treat a man right.”
Joyce had just placed her lips around the man’s cock when she heard a car honking.
Rodney looked at the side mirror. “What in the devil?”
Joyce licked her lips clean and pushed herself up. “What is it?” She saw a car closing up fast along the left side. It was flashing its lights and blaring its horn nonstop.
Rodney flashed her a quick smile. “Looks like that boyfriend of yours won’t go down without a fight, huh?”
“Ex,” Joyce corrected him. “Ex-boyfriend. I found myself a better one, darling.”
She felt the big rig veering. Rodney cranked left on the wheel, pushing Zane off into the median. The car mowed through the tall, uncut grass, sliding left and right, hopping over hidden bumps and kicking up a plume of dirt behind it. Rodney gave a tug on the horn and accelerated. Joyce watched as her former boyfriend turned back onto the road several car-lengths back.
“Maybe that’ll teach him,” Rodney said, laughing. “What’s that boy gonna do? I’m in a goddamn truck. He can’t do shit. The little lady is safe with me now.”
“He’s not the brightest,” Joyce agreed, resuming where she had left off. She closed her lips around Rodney’s thick cock and went to work, bobbing her head up and down and giving that swollen tip a nice rim-job with her tongue. It tasted just as delicious as it had the night before, though she preferred the comfortable cab over the grimy bathroom. And she could now match a face to that wonderful cock. Road-head was a good way to pass the time, like singing about ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. But this was definitely more fun.
“That’s real good, Miss Joyce,” Rodney complimented her. “Any better than that and you might make me crash.”
Joyce popped her lips off. “Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“No ma’am.”
The honking returned. It was Zane again. Rodney saw him in the side mirror and cursed under his breath. “This boy of yours is really asking for it, ain’t he?”
“He’s not my boy.”
“Hang on, Miss Joyce. I don’t want nothin’ serious happenin’, but I’m gonna have to take care of this myself.” Rodney reached behind the seat and pulled out the double-barreled shotgun. He rolled down th
e window and shouted, “Hey, you better quit that if you know what’s good for ya! She’s mine now, boy! And you ain’t gonna do anything to change that.”
Joyce scooted away as her new man handled the weapon. With his knees holding a straight wheel, Rodney aimed through the window, gave Zane one last warning—which resulted in more angry honks—and fired. The deafening blast caused Joyce to cover her ears.
“Jesus, mister! You’re not trying to kill him, are you?”
Rodney looked over his shoulder as he pushed two more shells in. “Nope, Miss Joyce. Only trying to scare the runt before he does something real stupid.”
Joyce was suddenly worried about Zane. He was just a boy; he had never done anything harmful in his entire life best she could remember. Wasn’t Rodney overreacting a little? Shooting out of a moving vehicle was dangerous! Maybe he was trying to scare him, hitting the pavement and all, but there was always a chance that he could mess that up. Or if Zane continued to pester him by driving alongside and honking that horn over and over again …
“Don’t shoot at him,” Joyce said.
“I’m not gonna hurt him. Not yet.” He laughed.
As Rodney began to take another aim at the bothersome Dodge Charger, Joyce grabbed the stock and tried to pull the shotgun out of his hands. But Rodney was far too strong for her to overpower. He whipped it back and cracked her in the face with his elbow. Joyce cried out in pain and fell back in the seat, feeling a warm liquid oozing from her nose.
“Now you quit that! Dammit, Miss Joyce. Your ex-boyfriend is a problem, and I hav’ta take care of it. Even if it means harm coming to him because he won’t learn his woman is gone for good.”
Zane, Tucker thought. The last several hours all seemed like they had gone by in seconds. The hit to the face must’ve brought him back. He wasn’t supposed to be Joyce. He wasn’t supposed to be a chick. It was all wrong. He was going to Sacramento for his sister’s wedding—until this detour had happened. How could he have forgotten? It was all starting to be clear again. Rodney was the real enemy, the one who had forced him into this position. Tucker didn’t know how he had turned into a girl, but it didn’t matter. Zane was here to save him, and Mystery Man wasn’t going to stop that.
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