Just Another Day At The Track free porn video

The day was bright and sunny. There was a slight chill in the air on this early summer morning, but that was perfect. I stood at the edge of the track and looked it over. There had been some concern as it had rained pretty hard last evening. But the morning sun and breeze had helped to dry out some of the mud. It was turning into a gorgeous day and I'm sure the conditions would be fine. Everything seemed so serene, so peaceful. It would stay that way for about twenty more minutes, until the noise curfew passed and the riders would be allowed to start their bikes. Then the pits would be buzzing! I loved race day! No, it wasn't an underground street car race or a drag race. This was motocross! Twenty men racing a hilly, jump-infested, natural outdoor track on their polished and fully modified dirtbikes! It was the thrill I lived for! I mentally scanned over the track, imagining as if I was already racing it. I did this from start to finish. My body was feeling good and I was feeling confident. I knew this was going to be a great day! Unfortunately, all hopes of that were dashed the instant I saw another rider coming my way. He was still in the distance, but I knew without a doubt who this person was. The mere thought of having to deal with him this early in the morning caused my day to be ruined instantly. Running into Tyler Jones, my biggest rival on and off the track was never a pleasant experience. Most of the guys I compete against I get along with just fine. Some of them I'd even consider to be my friends. But this kid has held a grudge against me ever since I block passed him in a corner of the track and he went down. It was a completely legal move! He took it to the track officials and they took my side. None of the other racers would sympathize with him either. Some even patted me on the back. They already knew how much of a jerk he really was. His reputation for using dirty tactics to win races was well known amidst the racers. He would gladly take somebody else down if it was beneficial to his cause! Surprisingly, the past few weeks of racing have gone by uneventfully. I credit that mostly to the fact that I have been placing well while he has been stuck in the middle of the pack. I can see the resentment on his face every time he throws me a glance. Speaking of which... I watched Tyler sneer as he approached me from the far side of the track. "Well, if it isn't the dirtiest racer at Shade raceway... and I DON'T mean muddy!" There was venom in his voice, yet his eyes shone with some sort of devilish glee. "Don't be such a whiner, Tyler. If you can't handle your own bike, then you shouldn't be out there!" I countered. For some reason, he smiled when he heard me say that. "I couldn't agree with you more." I was a little caught off guard by his quick agreement. I figured we'd be having at least a good word fight if not an actual physical one. He continued. "In fact, I'd say that only REAL men with REAL talent should be out there on the track! It takes BALLS to race motocross!" I shook my head, thinking to myself, what a sexist jerk. "Tyler, it's no wonder no one at the track likes you. Girls have as much of a right to ride and race dirtbikes as guys do to say... take dance classes!" He shrugged his shoulders and snorted. "Hell Joe, you should have been BORN a girl! It sounds like you'd make one hell of a feminist!" "No, it's just that I treat girls with the respect they deserve, that's all." I said, realizing that I wasn't really fighting back or bringing any attitude. I was always more about taking out my aggressions on the track rather than puffing up my chest and blowing hot air. I wouldn't be lead into a name-calling match with him. He seemed disappointed at my reluctance to sink to his level, but then his eyes twinkled in a way that gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach. He continued with much more enthusiasm, almost a newfound giddiness... "You know, when the old man at that curio shop sold me this ring, I thought I was just getting a good deal on a cool looking dragon ring." He brought his right hand into view. Sure enough, there was a cool looking dragon ring around his finger. "When he promised me that this could dramatically change my life, I blew it off, figuring the old man was just senile. But, now that I've actually tried it out, I don't know how I could have gotten along without it!" His story was starting to bore me rather than intrigue me. I figured this was just some elaborate bullshit setup for a prank or something and I wasn't going to bite. "Yeah, that's all fascinating and whatever. So you bought a pretty ring from an old man. Did he offer you candy too? I don't have time for this..." I started to walk again, but he grabbed me by the shoulder. "I should have figured you wouldn't believe me. So, I suppose I will just have to show you. I'm really glad we had this conversation. It's nice to know where you stand on the subject of girls." There was definitely sarcasm in his voice, but what was even more alarming is that there was a hint of sincerity as well. He continued. "You see, I was just going to wish that you would lose your motocross talent, so that I could humiliate you in the race just as you did to me." There was bitterness in his voice, but it quickly melted into a sweet, if not untrustworthy smile. "But now, hell, you can keep your talent! You're going to need it after this!" Part of me wanted to stay put to see just what this was all about, while part of me wanted to get the hell away from this obvious lunatic! I should have listened to my instinct to run. Before I had a chance to make another decision, Tyler grasped his right hand and looked down at the ring with maniacal glee. "Magic ring... I wish reality would be altered to where Joe was born as a girl instead of a boy!" Just as the words finished spewing from his mouth, I felt a momentary sense of disorientation, my head started to spin, and then... blackness. It's hard to explain what it was that I was experiencing. It was like I had my eyes closed, like I was trying to go to sleep, but at the same time I couldn't feel any part of my body! It seemed like an eternity before I was re-awakened, but when it finally happened, the sensations came flooding back in a hurry! The first thing I noticed was Tyler standing triumphantly before me. He looked much taller than before! He gazed down upon me with that same damn devilish grin I was beginning to hate! "Sorry about your momentary non-existence." He said with hollow sympathy. "But, I had to give the ring some details about your new life... Jennie!!" "I don't know what you're..." I stopped right there. That was all it took for me to realize that something definitely WASN'T right, because my voice sounded similar to that of a frightened, young girl!! "NOW do you believe me?" Tyler said while trying to contain his amusement. "How do you like the new you? I tried to make sure you were... well... quite pleasing to the eye." He couldn't hold back his laughter at his own stupid joke as I looked down to assess the damage. Damage is the wrong word for it! How about a total train wreck?! The first obvious change was the one I couldn't get around... literally! Protruding proudly from my chest was a pair of soft, supple female breasts! They were big enough to be blocking the view of my lower half! Maybe that was a sign that I shouldn't go any further, but I did anyway. That was a big mistake. Stretching a little more, I was able to look beyond my generous mammaries, to a well- proportioned and completely slender hourglass figure (perfect if not just slightly underdeveloped)! Most distressing was the obvious lack of bulge coming from the crotch of my race pants! My mind raced frantically. How could this be happening?! My life... completely changed... completely ruined all in the blink of an eye! "Enjoying the view from down there?" Tyler said, rudely interrupting my self-examination. "You'll notice that you are still in racing attire, albeit, the PRETTIEST racing outfit I've ever seen!" He giggled some more to himself. He was totally right. I was still sporting my favorite brand of race gear (FOX). But, instead of my yellow and blue jersey/pants/boots combo, it was pink and white and the words "FOX Girl" were stretched over my jersey by my boobs! "Don't worry your pretty little head, you are still a racer. Well, not really, as you're a GIRL racer, but I guess in this new reality you have won some races against the other girlie riders. If you check your racing license, you'll see that you are now listed in the GIRLS 14-16, 80cc "b" class. Instead of keeping you 17 years old, I figured I'd give you a few extra years to get used to your body. So... you're now only 15! Aren't I a nice guy?" He chuckled to himself. The full effect of this nightmare didn't really hit me until that moment. Somehow, Tyler just re-wrote my entire life story on a whim! I was no longer a guy. I was no longer 17 years old. As much as I tried to convince myself of the impossibility of this situation, a million feminine sensations wracked my body in opposition to this claim! Everything just felt wrong to me. From the way my new, longer, blonde hair easily "swished" with each passing breeze, to my new girlish stance, shortened height, and shrunken features. The jersey seemed kind of baggy around my arms and upper torso, which was probably due to my new slender, weak, girlish arms and narrow shoulders. The weight of my new femininely enhanced chest was soft and fleshy. This alien sensation was only surpassed by the heightened sensitivity of my nipples and emptiness within my crotch! Tyler rained his happiness down upon me. "Look, just to prove that I'm not a TOTAL asshole..." He wasn't trying to be very convincing and I wasn't buying it anyway. He continued... "I'll make you a deal. If you can win your moto in the girls' class, I'll have the ring shift reality again and make you a boy once more. Granted, I can't have you be 17 again or it would get in MY way, but at least you'd be 15 years old and have a dick once more." He glanced down at my flat girlish crotch just for effect. This was all too much to take in at once! I came here this morning focused on competing for the cup championship in the 125 cc. MEN'S "A" class! Now I stand before my biggest rival and all I can focus on is how my panties keep riding up my butt (I suspect it's a thong) and how my new sports bra cuts into the underside of my boobs! I stared deeply into his cold confident eyes, but found that I couldn't do so for very long. I meekly lowered my gaze and looked away. I couldn't take it anymore, so I did what any respectable teenage girl would do when forced into a situation like this. I cried. Tyler was quick to take advantage of this moment of weakness. "Awww, I'm sorry. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thought maybe despite your obvious girlish appearance that there might be a male brain beneath all that hair. I guess I was wrong. Well, enjoy your new life, girly." He started to walk away. I didn't know what to do. I was scared... scared beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever have imagined myself in a situation like this?! With a trembling lip, I gathered all the courage that I could and called out to Tyler. "I... I'll do it. I will race for my manhood." I couldn't help but let a whimper escape my mouth as I said that. "I thought you might." Tyler said, beaming triumphantly. "I guess you better get back to the pits and start getting accustomed to your new little bike and new little body. I hear the center of gravity is different between guys and girls and I'd imagine so, with those two life preservers on your chest!" He pointed and laughed. I tried to ignore it. I never wanted to punch someone more than I did at that very moment. But, I knew I needed to stay on his good side if I ever hoped to get my old body back. Besides, considering my new limited strength, I doubt my punches would have done much anyway. Restraining myself, I sighed and simply nodded at him before heading back towards the pits. Tyler smiled as he watched my feminine ass jiggle and sway into the distance. Upon reaching the pits, I received surprise number two for the day. Usually I race alone. Sometimes a friend or two might be free for the day and decide to help me out. But I never expected this! There was my mother, sitting in a chair, reading a magazine! Crouching beside her was my father, wrenching on my bike! Apparently he was making some last minute adjustments for me! My parents hardly EVER came to see me race and if they did, they were nothing but spectators. I looked for my truck and tools, but they were gone. Instead, my dad's SUV, tools and box trailer (to haul the bike) were there! Tyler's words rang through my head. In this reality, I was born a girl and was only 15!! I couldn't have driven myself here if I had wanted to! I guess it made sense that my parents would take interest in their "daughter's" hobbies. I tried to ignore this added shift in reality. There were too many other things concerning me at the moment. Finally, I got to see my new bike. At that point, I felt like I was just ready to just drop over dead. It was a smaller, PINK version of my Suzuki RM 125cc! Apparently, the trademark blue and yellow plastic wasn't good enough for my new "chick" persona. "My" new Suzuki RM 80 was covered in a customized pink and white scheme (conveniently matching my apparel). "God, besides racing, I must be such a girly girl!" I mumbled to myself. My dad greeted me by waving a screwdriver with his one hand. "Hey, sweetie. How does the track look today? I'm almost done re-jetting the carb... errr... I mean, making sure the gas is there when you hit the throttle!" What was this? Whatever it was, I didn't like it. It was obvious that my dad caught himself in mid-sentence for a reason. Why the oversimplification? I know what re-jetting means! It's when you adjust... err... change... something... in the carb. Ack! For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what re-jetting meant! That bastard Tyler must have stolen my mechanical knowledge as well! Ooh, when I get my hands on him! My father waited for a response, wondering if I was zoning or something. I managed to mumble a "yeah, thanks" before my mom decided to chime in. "Jennifer! Your father asked you how the track was, dear. Don't tell me its slick! We had a lot of rain last evening! I don't want you out there if it's too wet! You're not used to that kind of riding!" The more my mother talked, the more worked up she got! Thankfully daddy (daddy?) stepped in on my behalf. "Now dear, don't get into this again. Our daughter is a great rider. She knows what she is doing, don't ya, pumpkin? She'll be fine out there." He smiled as though he just did me a huge favor, though I didn't care much for the part about "pumpkin". Luckily, no more was said on the matter. "Ummm, guys, do you mind if I just relax a little before the moto? I have to clear my head." Daddy smiled. "Sure thing, sweetie. Just remember, you have to register in the next half hour or you won't be allowed to participate." I nodded in acknowledgement and they allowed me to pull up a chair on the other side of our pit, facing the track. What am I going to do? I thought to myself. Here I am, stuck in a completely foreign body... a GIRL'S body, no less, and I have to win a race with it if I ever want SOME chance of returning to normal! Panic overtook my senses and I started to breathe heavily. I could feel my chest heave with every breath. At that moment, I truly snapped. I don't know what it was specifically that caused me to snap. Maybe it was how my long, now blonde hair constantly kept falling into my eyes. Perhaps it was the burning desire I felt to cross my legs while sitting there. Maybe it was the sense of total helplessness as I stared at my new slender, weaker arms. Who knows? (Though my money is on the way my panties occasionally brushed smoothly against my new feminine mound) Whatever it was, at that moment, I felt myself fill with determination! I WILL win this race! I HAVE to win this race! My entire present and future life depended upon it! But, what if I were to fail? I reluctantly considered. The window of doubt was just big enough to let all sorts of nasty, feminine-oriented thoughts into my mind. I'd be stuck as a female for the rest of my life! I'd have a lifetime to get used to wearing pretty clothes and underwear, sitting to pee, periods, feeling weak, breasts... There were an endless number of reasons why I couldn't let that happen! Don't get me wrong, I'm sure girls who were actually born girls grow to enjoy and embrace their femininity! But, my still very much male mind was rejecting it with fear and intensity! Lifting myself from the comfy chair, I felt a new sense of purpose. As I began to make my way towards the signup station, I had a spring in my step. It was a feeling I only experienced as a guy, when I was excited about an upcoming race. Somewhere between that chair and the sign-up sheet, I abandoned my fear and doubt and I WASN'T about to let it come back to haunt me! Of course, finding myself sign in as "Jennifer Ann", definitely didn't do anything to help my confidence. As the ink flowed onto the page, it felt as natural as could be. "I guess Tyler made me more comfortable in my new life than I thought." I grumbled to myself. Also, running into several of my former racing friends on the way back didn't help matters either. It seemed like every time I'd see one, I'd catch them checking me out! This sickened me beyond belief. But, to be fair, my former male self would have considered a good looking female motocrosser to be a total turn on. I tried to keep these thoughts out of my mind as I re- entered the pits. At the time I had no idea that I was being followed. It wasn't until I saw my mother look at me and then past me that I bothered to turn around. As my head swung around I was just in time to see several of the boy racers heading the other direction, pretending as if they were actually heading somewhere nearby. I sighed. Is this what its going to be like? I thought to myself. I sat back down in my chair and cringed as I saw my mother smiling and pulling up a seat next to me. "So, which one do you think is the cutest?" She smiled and what was that... a wink?! I don't believe this! "Mom, I'm really not ready to have a conversation like this!" I snapped back, my brain on feminine overload. "Oh honey, sure you are. You're fifteen now, soon to be sweet sixteen. It's natural for you to think about boys. You do think about boys, don't you?" She persisted in a loving, motherly tone. I knew what this conversation was all about. I had it with dad when I was like thirteen. But he pretty much just told me not to be stupid, use a condom and left it at that. This was different somehow. My mother was talking to me in a voice that was sweeter than I ever heard as a guy. Maybe that added "X" chromosome brought me closer to her in this life. I briefly contemplated about how to best answer her question. I don't think the honest answer of "No, mom, I love and think about girls all the time" would have gone over so well. So I faked it. "Yeah, mom... ummm... of course I do. But, its race day and I have to keep focused, okay?" I hoped this would buy me some time. "Sure sweetie, we can talk about it later. But you know, I think the cute blonde haired boy goes to your school. I've talked to his mother before at the supermarket. They seem like such a nice family. Why just the other day..." "Mother..." I chimed in. I couldn't take much more of this. "Yes, okay dear. Go back to your pre-race prayer or meditation or whatever it is you racers do. We'll talk later." I could tell that she was momentarily satisfied having at least brought the subject up. I'm sure she was looking forward to resuming our little talk that afternoon on the way home. But if I got my way, by this afternoon it would be as if this conversation never took place! The rest of the time before the race passed like molasses through an hourglass. I tried to take my mind off of things by reading a magazine. My mother quickly offered up some girlish teen magazines that she had brought along for me. I declined them as politely as possible. Luckily, my dad had the new edition of DirtBike. So I spent the better part of the morning perusing that and sipping on Gatorade. I used to love the magazine, but paging through it and only seeing male riders quickly reminded me that I was now a part of the minority of this sport. Thankfully I was brought out of my miserable thoughts by my father tapping me on the shoulder. He informed me that he had finished the preparations on my bike and that the scheduled practice for my class was soon to begin. I would finally get the chance to take it out for the first time. I dropped the magazine and headed over to my new girly- cycle. I had hoped that my transition to the girls' mx class would go smoothly being that I still (supposedly) had my racing skills and that the bikes were smaller. But my illusions were quickly shattered as I experienced my first and quite obvious disadvantage... the bike-to-girl weight ratio. The bike felt like it was made out of lead when I went to lift it off of the work stand. Imagine my shame as my father quickly came over and lifted it off for me! I never would have had this problem as a guy! Apparently, even though the plastic was a girlish pink, the bike still weighed as much as any other 80 cc. race bike. It was obvious that my new petite frame was ill-equipped to be throwing around a machine of this weight. Luckily, I was just barely tall enough for one foot to touch when I got on it. I later found out that my dad actually shortened the suspension slightly from stock and had some of the foam cut from the seat (at least my new girlish butt should have some extra padding to it). I wasn't going to let that news deter me though. Ricky Carmichael, one of the all time greatest motocross riders was pretty short. I conveniently tried to ignore the invading thoughts of yeah, but he's a guy and he's got a lot more upper body strength than you. I tried kick-starting the bike (dirtbikes without electric start need to be started by placing your right foot on a lever and kicking downwards violently). I groaned at how much more difficult that simple task seemed to be. It took me a couple of tries, but I finally managed to get the bike to fire. At that point I made some mental notes. Okay, so I am at least tall enough to put a foot down and start the bike. Now if only I can handle the weight issue. I tried to console myself with the concept of how when the bike is in motion, it will be a LOT more manageable! But I didn't even want to think about what would happen if I were to drop it. When my time to practice arrived, I nervously and cautiously brought the bike to the starting gate. Luckily, we all didn't have to start at the same time. I saw some of the other girls take off ahead of me and that was alright by me! The less of an audience I had for my first moto flight in this strange body and strange bike the better! I took the bike slowly around the track at first. I felt a small victory at realizing that I still remembered how to ride! I didn't put it past that bastard Tyler to actually steal my riding ability and/or knowledge (especially as he had already depleted my mechanical aptitude). I started to feel good until I heard my dad shout out from the spectator stands. "Honey, are you alright? Is there a problem?" His voice oozed with a parental concern that I never heard before. I say "oozed" because this public display of offspring affection was royally embarrassing me! He must have noticed that I was riding excessively slow and his first instinct was that I was having trouble with the bike or something! I noticed some of the boy riders (who had dropped by to mostly make fun of the girls) chuckle. I shook my head, hoping he would take it as meaning that there wasn't a problem. But there was a problem and I wasn't alright! I was stuck on a girlish bike in a girlish body being mocked at by boys! I was at least glad that no one could see how beet red my face was under my helmet. I couldn't believe that my father was adding to my humiliation. In retrospect though, I should have thanked him after practice. It was just the kick in the pants that I needed! Enough of this bullshit. I thought to myself. I cracked open the throttle and heard the whine of the engine as it kicked to life. The front end got quite light and I had to lean forward a bit to keep it down. I was actually somewhat surprised by just how much power I had at my disposal! I should have asked my dad to help me with my bike as a guy! The feeling of the tires spinning up mud and dirt liberated me. I always feel better after a good ride, so I tried to make this one last as long as possible. I didn't want to get off the bike and think about a life trapped in lingerie and dresses, periods and cold toilet seats. I wanted to stay in the warm saddle of my bike forever. But with my practice nearing a close and with a deep sigh, I finished up a few crucial, well-ridden laps and pulled off into the pits. I knew this track like the back of my hand. The only question that remained was, could I get acclimated to my new body and bike fast enough to compete with my fellow female competitors? I was soon to find out. As I entered the pits, I was bombarded by a thousand questions from both of my parents! "How was the track?" "It wasn't too slippery for you, was it honey?" "Did the bike seem okay?" "Are you warm enough? I think you should wear a jacket over your jersey, it's a bit nippy out there!" "How did it handle the ruts?" "Did you notice that cute blonde haired boy was watching you practice?" I think you can discern for yourself who asked what. Mostly though I think they were just making sure their precious little girl was okay and wasn't experiencing some sort of "moto stage fright" or something. I assured them that I would be fine and went back to twiddling my thumbs until the race was about to begin. Normally I would have checked out some of the other races, but due to my current circumstances, I figured that would have only depressed me more. So I waited around for my turn at the track. Well, that wasn't ALL I ended up doing before the race. Do you want the gory details? I spent fifteen minutes assuring (read: lying to) my mother that I did indeed have an interest in boys and wasn't allowing motocross to turn me into a tomboy (I began to suspect that she was the main reason my feminine persona seemed likely to be a pink loving, boy band crazy, sleep with a teddy bear kind of girl! Ugh!). Another fifteen minutes were spent trying to ignore the stares and blown kisses from several passing boys. Earlier in the day I could have kicked these boys' asses for even looking at me cross-eyed! Now I felt embarrassed at being the apparent object of their affection! Finally as the dreaded race quickly approached, I felt my body fill with fear. Unfortunately, that wasn't the ONLY thing filling! I could feel my bladder starting to fill from all the Gatorade I had been drinking! Ashamed and humiliated, I made my way to the little girl's room on the other side of the track. This journey was mostly the same as when I went to sign in earlier. Everywhere I went I seemed to draw the attention of the teenage boys. It was unbearable! How could I blame them though? I was helpless to keep my hot, tight ass from swaying enticingly and my 32 C breasts (DON'T ask how I knew that was the size!) from jiggling with each step! Compound that with the fact that I was dressed in pink motocross gear and it was a guaranteed hard-on for any die-hard, teenage motocrosser! But the ultimate indignity was when I had to drop my panties and squat. It was the first look I got at the new me down there and I wasn't in the least bit impressed. I gingerly wiped for the first time after peeing, pulled my panties and race pants back up, washed my hands and hastily exited the port-a-potty (well what did you expect? This IS an outdoors race track!). What could be worse than this? I quickly had that questioned answered though as I exited the stall and saw Tyler standing there waiting to use it next! "Oh. Hi there, sweetie! Enjoying your new plumbing? I hope you didn't forget to wipe! I'm sure you don't want an infection down there!" He virtually giggled with glee after each degrading, sexist sentence. "Look, would you just leave me alone? Haven't you done enough already?" I could feel the tears welling up inside of me. I wanted to act tough, I wanted to show this asshole that he couldn't get the best of me, but it was far harder than I'd imagined. My body's feminine emotions were starting to show. "Sure thing, hot cakes. I'm not worried. I'm sure that having to spend the last few hours in that girlish body has done more damage than anything that I could possibly say!" He searched my face as if to confirm his assumption. I tried to hide my true feelings. I tried to stay strong. But the single tear that began to roll down my cheek betrayed me. His grin widened in response. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to your training..." There was a wicked gleam in his eye, as if he was building up to something. "... your training... BRA that is! Would you like that? I could make your boobs smaller if you think that would help." I almost fell for it. I almost begged him to do that. I wanted so badly for him to do that. If he wouldn't take them away, he could at least make them smaller, make me somehow less feminine. But, I quickly realized that this was just a test of my willpower. I knew deep down that if I gave in to him, things would just get worse. He would know that he had broken me and that he owned me. Hell, he probably would make my boobs bigger just out of punishment for being so weak-willed. No, I wasn't going to play into that. "They are fine the way they are... just how nature intended them to be." I almost couldn't stomach my response. "Spoken like a true, proud, girly girl. Fine, I hope you enjoy them so much when you start getting back pain or sore nipples. Then we'll see how fond you are of your boobies!" With one more annoying cackle, he disappeared into the port-a-potty. As I walked away, fighting back the tears, I couldn't help but here him shouting out through the thin walls of the john... "Ahhh, that feels good. It's so nice to be able to stand to piss. Whoops, done already. My, that was quick. Well time to put him..." His voice trailed off as I broke into a run, trying to get as far away from that jerk as possible. This is what it is ALWAYS going to be like! Unless I win this race, this will be my life from now on! It was almost too horrible to bear! I jogged all the way back to the pits. My mom and dad saw that I was crying and came to ask me what was the matter, but before they could get to me, I jumped into the box trailer and closed the doors. After a few minutes of trying to coax me out, they heard me having a good cry and just let me be. I had to get this out of my system. I knew that I did, so I just let the tears roll. Ten minutes later I came back out, composed myself and just told my parents that a boy I had run into was very mean to me. I didn't go into details and they didn't press, so for the moment the entire subject was dropped. I cleared my head the best I could, relaxed for a couple more minutes, and finally received the sign from my dad. It was time for me to race for my life. Moments later I stood on the line with all the other racers. Actually, fidgeted would be a better way to describe it! If I wasn't messing with my goggles, I was trying to keep my arms loose. If I wasn't shaking my head (and that huge mass of hair spewing out of the back) I was adjusting my chest protector. Above all I was trying to keep my mind off of how much heavier the bike felt to me now or how much taller it seemed to my slender shorter legs. I tried to keep focus, but everything just seemed wrong. Everyone gets the pre-race jitters, but this is the worst I have ever felt. Before all I had to lose was the race. But the stakes were unimaginably higher now. Every rev of the bike reminded me of the new strange sensation in the "saddle". I scanned my competition. I used to love watching this class attempt to race. No offense to them, I always admired their determination to succeed in a man's sport, but I knew very few of them would ever be fast enough to compete with my (former) class. It just takes too much physical strength at times to muscle the bike around. But now as I looked around, I noticed most of the girls were actually taller and more athletic than my new petite body. I scanned the crowd. As typical with this class, most of the spectators were friends and family of the racers... proud mothers and fathers of their little girls. Oh sure, some of the other racers were there, but not to learn any new lines or riding styles. It was typically just to take in the eye candy (which I now unfortunately was a part of). These brief moments felt like agonizing hours as the butterflies in my stomach began to flutter. I glanced upwards and felt a cold sweat begin. The 30 second board had just turned sideways. For those of you who are unfamiliar with motocross, there is some terminology that you may not pick up on right away. Like "I laughed my ass off when the guy who roosted me out of the gate and stole my holeshot cased it on the first tabletop." However, the 30 second board means exactly what it sounds like. In less than 30 seconds the gate would drop and the race would begin! I felt my hands tremble in anticipation as I assumed my stance and increased the throttle. A harmonious buzz of engine revs erupted as each and every racer assumed their stance and rolled on the throttle. This was it, the moment of truth. Was I really talented in racing motocross? Or was it just the fortuitous design of my body that allowed me to excel in this sport? I took a deep breath, closed my mind and ears to all surrounding me, and set my focus straight ahead. The gate dropped and the roar of bikes could be heard all through the valley. Every sense of femininity was purged from my body as my bike rocketed down the straightaway towards the first turn. A volatile mixture of adrenaline and horsepower had managed to cleanse me (at least temporarily) from all self-doubt and pity. I was racing! The one love in my life that I could never deny! I threaded my way through the horde of competitors at my side, running bar to bar with them down the narrow opening of the starting stretch. As I power-slid through the first turn, I made a miraculous realization. I got the holeshot! I was in the lead! After a brief mental celebration, I clenched my jaw and regained my focus. I was not one to rest on my laurels and it's a good thing too. For as I was preparing for the first set of jumps, I took a brief glance behind my shoulder and saw the 2nd and 3rd place riders running side by side just behind me. I hit the face of the jump with power and determination. I was afraid that even though my body and bike were lighter, I might not have enough power to clear the double. The displacement of my engine was now much less and I hadn't raced this small of a bike since I was twelve. My old man didn't let me down though. I hit the jump and I soared over both, landing on the downside face of the 2nd jump. For the first time in the last couple of hours, I felt in control of my life... of my destiny! This was my race to lose now and I wasn't going to go down without a fight! I tried to keep my excitement level in check as best I could. It was to be a long race and I needed to keep my stamina for as long as possible! I flew into the 2nd turn with a newfound drive and confidence! However, part of that confidence was immediately sucked away as I exited the turn. In all my excitement I had lost my concentration for just a split second and that was all it took for me to make a poor line choice. Due to the heavy rain the previous night, the track was muddy at spots. As I rounded the turn, I found myself in a rutted line. My smaller bike and shorter body made it more difficult to get through the deep rut and as powerful as my new bike seemed, it definitely lost a bit of speed when forced to spin through the gooey muck. Breaking into the straightaway, I took another glance back and found that the 2nd place rider had distanced herself from the 3rd place, and she was still right on my tail. I couldn't allow myself to make any more mistakes. It was too dangerous. Unfortunately, the ruts were nothing in comparison to the next obstacle I was to face. Screaming down the straightaway, my focus remained on that rider right behind me. I knew this was no way to race. I knew that to be successful I would have to ride my own race. But the threat of permanent femininity suddenly began to resurface in my mind and cloud my thoughts. I was quickly snapped back to reality though when I realized what new obstacle was lying ahead of me. I cringed and braced myself for the rapidly approaching series of "whoop-de-doos". Just to clarify matters for the non-racers here, whoop-de-doos are a series of smaller jumps, more like several humps placed tightly together. Imagine trying to ride a bike over the backs of several unusually large camels, lying in a straight line. It was the type of obstacle that required a precise rhythm to manage if one expected to make it through without going over their handlebars. Under normal racing circumstances I would have had the composure to set myself up for these without too much difficulty. But, with the threat of wearing tampons for the rest of my life still knocking on the back door of my mind, I knew I just had to hang on and pray for the best! I barreled through them, and clung tightly to my handlebar grips for dear life! Cursing under my breath, I realized this to be another situation where my shorter legs and lack of arm strength put me at a severe disadvantage. Luckily, there was a factor I didn't take into consideration when I hit the first whoop. My lighter body and bike helped to keep me from sinking into the depths of the whoops and wiping out. I adjusted my style on the fly and my timing turned out better than I could have imagined. I found myself skipping over the tops of the whoops, almost better than I would have done before the change! After my bike skimmed the top of the last whoop, I took a mental sigh of relief. My confidence began to grow steadily, knowing I just turned a potentially disastrous section of the track into my new strong point! Minutes passed like seconds. My domination continued for the next several laps. Every time I cleared a jump successfully or made it through a technical section unscathed, my confidence grew. I had even managed to distance myself from the 2nd place rider. The entire race was going by in a blur. Apparently my dad must have pushed me in my physical training as well. We were on lap fifteen of twenty and I was barely winded. Granted, it definitely helped that I was lucky enough to escape from the pack early and leave them battling amongst themselves. By the 16th lap, I had amassed a comfortable lead. For the first time since my transformation, I felt as if everything was going to be alright. I had challenged the odds and had defied them! Four more laps and Tyler would be forced to hold up his end of our agreement and return my masculinity. Of course that bastard was going to keep me as a fifteen year old, but after what I had to deal with today, as long as I had a dick between my legs once more I knew I could be happy. I would just stay out of his way from now on. I knew that I wouldn't be able to race here again. I mean, he somehow has magical powers! I don't think I could take another change of this magnitude! I shuddered at all the possible changes he could make to me and quickly tried to put it out of my mind. But the more I tried to ignore it, the angrier I got. I started slamming the bike a little harder into each turn. Continuing to think about what Tyler had done, how he had literally stripped me of my masculinity, fired me up more and more! How dare he try to get away with this? Ultimately, I knew it didn't matter. I was just minutes away from getting my old life back! I don't know about the rest of these chicks, but at least I proved that one could race motocross effectively, no matter what their gender is! Of course, that is when it happened. That is when my world came crashing down in a spinning pile of metal and plastic. Through my heightened rage I slammed into one corner a little harder than I wanted to. I wasn't able to cut for the turn and I had to hit the brakes! My tires gripped onto the dirt and I lost my momentum completely, leaving me teetering on the high side of a berm (the ridge of dirt that forms a corner). Unable to put my feet down, the bike tipped over on its side, sending me rolling off to the ground. I could hear the gasps of the audience as I tried to regain my bearings and get back up. Thankfully, the only part of me that was hurt was my pride. I scrambled back to the bike. A flagman quickly came out to warn the upcoming riders that I was down. I yanked at the handlebars with all my might and my worst fear was realized. It's too heavy, I can't lift this! I struggled and struggled, trying desperately to get it upright. The tears began to streak down my face, I knew what it meant if I couldn't get going again. I could see the inside of my goggles begin to fog up from my outburst. I even grabbed at the flagman, trying to get his help. He gave me an apologetic expression, but just kept waving the flag. Deep down I knew that he couldn't help me. It would have been cheating. But I was desperate. Suddenly the race went from going super fast to extremely slow. Every painstaking moment that I spent trying to get going again felt like an eternity. This is it... it's over. I have failed myself! Soon the 2nd place rider overtook me. I watched her go by, examined her slinky feminine form as it clung tightly to the bike, and realized that I would forevermore have a similar shape and build! Life as I knew it was now over. Have you ever heard the stories where a woman lifted a car to free her hurt child from the wreckage? It was speculated that a sudden rush of emotion and adrenaline could enhance a person's physical strength substantially. As strange as it may sound, I was now facing a very similar situation. The trapped child in this case was my manhood. It was trapped under this bike and unless I could get it out, it would die a quick but miserable death and I would be guilt-ridden for the rest of my life! As the third place rider passed by, I threw all of my weight (95 lbs?), hope and prayers into lifting the bike! I don't know if it was adrenaline or what (sadly, I knew it couldn't have been from testosterone), but miraculously it budged enough for me to get my body underneath it. I was on both knees, using all my effort to keep the bike from slamming back to the ground. I knew that if I couldn't get this to work, the upcoming years of my new life would probably have me on my knees quite often. That final terrifying thought gave me the inspiration and power I needed to extend my arms and body and bring the bike back to being on two wheels. I huffed and puffed, feeling quite exhausted from all the effort, but I knew I had no time to rest. I quickly slung a short, shapely leg over the seat and started to kick. Four kicks and one race position later, the bike screamed to life. I slammed it into gear, checked to make sure no one was coming and began to climb this tremendous pit I had foolishly just dug myself into. Fifth place. I just went from a nice size lead to dropping into fifth place with only four laps to go. I began to ride like a... well, a woman possessed. I was feeling the exhaustion of my struggle with the bike, but I didn't care. I may have been six minutes away from giving myself a heart attack, but as long as there were only five more minutes left in the race, I was going to stick to that pace! It didn't take me long to catch the 4th place rider. But getting around her was another thing. I didn't have time to practice passing with my new bike and body, but as a guy, that was one of my specialties. Within two corners I squeezed my bike on the inside of hers and made the pass stick. At least that was somewhat painless. The chase was now on for a podium spot. Lap 16 3/4. My riding was beginning to get a bit sloppy, but whatever section I couldn't finesse my way through, I pushed through with sheer determination. I finally was on the heels of the 3rd place rider, but she proved to be much shiftier than the 4th place girl. I could tell that I wasn't going to get her in a corner. Every time I took an angle to set her up for a corner, she would adjust her line to block me. She seemed to excel at anticipating the moves of her pursuers. She seemed like the type of rider who just needed a good start to get a win. I'm sure she moved her way up from a weak start and the middle of the pack (as opposed to starting in 2nd behind me and being passed). I wasted a good half of the lap being stuck behind her. I knew that I was faster, but there just wasn't a good place to pass. Fortunately for me, we finally came to my sweet spot... the whoops section. If you would have told me before the change that a girl's favorite section of a track could be the whoop-de-doos, I would have laughed. It just doesn't make sense. A section such as that favors taller riders, whose legs can soak up some of the shock from those small, yet deep jumps. But throughout the course of this race, I had found a quick way over them. Every lap I fine tuned my stance and style as I skipped over the tops. As good as the 3rd place rider was at blocking, her pace was no match for mine through this section. I think I caught her off guard as I started to pass her. She quickly tried to adjust and cut me off, but I just made it by before she could get the angle on me. In fact, her quick cut over the whoops nearly caused her to lose her timing and wipe out. Damn women riders. I quickly apologized for that thought though. She had given me one hell of a run for my money! But I still had NO intentions of staying as one myself! Lap 18 1/4. Time was running out. I needed to catch this 2nd place rider and FAST! Unfortunately, we just passed the whoops section (it helped me to catch up this much on her), and I knew I couldn't wait until the next lap to make my move. It was hard for me to gather my thoughts and be strategic at this point because I was so physically exhausted! I just had to let my instincts take over and hope for the best. We began to near the section of track that I dreaded the most... the long, choppy, downhill section. Motocross tracks consist of mostly natural terrain, with some man-made jumps thrown in to make it more challenging. Most of this track was built on the side of a hill. The track steadily winds uphill, but then drops back down into a long, steep downhill section. It's the fastest section of track being that there aren't any jumps built into it. However, if your momentum is fast enough at the top, you can spend half the trip down being airborne. The part that worried me most was the lower part. That damn storm had left sections of the track rather washed out and muddy. The promoters of the race had done their best to try to dry out and groom the area, but after a few races, it started to develop some crossing ruts. I had managed to go through it smoothly when I had the lead, but that was due in part to there being minimal pressure on me. Now that I was being pushed to my limit, there was no telling if I could make it down without wiping out. As we hit the straight section of track leading to the crest of the hill, I was about to make the "ballsiest" move I had made since losing them. I cracked the throttle open just seconds before we were to hit the drop-off. This allowed me to pull right beside the 2nd place rider. She looked determined not to let me get her position that easily, but I had an advantage over her. It was a question of who wanted it more and this race meant EVERYTHING to me. At the final second, she backed off the throttle. We both soared over edge of the hill. Without as much momentum, her front end dropped quicker than mine and she landed about a quarter of the way down the hill. As for me, I felt like I really could fly as I soared through the air. Not even in my old body with my bigger, more powerful bike, had I ever jumped this high coming off of this hill. For a brief moment I felt as if I had just set myself free from the world. I was free from the limitations and expectations of this new body, free from sexual humiliation and prejudice. Free from all the foreign sensations I had to endure for the past few hours. But, the moment was brief and I quickly returned to reality. I still had a huge weight upon my shoulders, or perhaps even more fittingly, upon my chest. I knew the first step in making it disappear was to land this jump. I muscled the bike as best I could in the air, tapped the brake to bring the front end slightly down, and braced myself for the landing. I had soared over halfway down the hill and I knew the landing was to be a rough one. It was like jumping into a mine field and praying that you wouldn't explode. If I landed awkwardly on one of the ruts, there would be no way of saving the bike. Finally my wheels made contact with the dirt. After the initial contact, my bike began to sink! My life flashed before me (my old life, not my new one). I thought I was soon to be rolling on the ground in a tangled mess of long hair, boobs, and silky smooth legs. But I quickly realized what was happening and I guided the bike through it. It seems that I was fortunate enough to land on one of the few firm areas of ground on that hill, but immediately afterward, my bike dropped into a nearby rutted line. Fresh from feeling like I just experienced a miracle, another catastrophe was looming. As I rode this rut out, I realized it ended in a crossing pattern (where this rut ended, two ruts crossed over in different directions). Which should I choose? I was already near the right edge of the track. If the right rut went too far, it could easily send me off the track. If I would go through the left one too slowly, I could end up colliding with the rider I just passed. Unfortunately, it takes much longer for me to write this and for you to read it than the actual amount of time that I had to decide. I went with the left rut, praying that I had made enough time on the other girl to make the pass stick. Maybe it was the best choice, maybe it wasn't, but the important part was that I managed to ride it out and make it to the corner unscathed. The other rider fell in behind me, but was no longer able to keep up. A few turns later I was making my way over the finish line jump. I was in 2nd place now. Most people would be satisfied with that. It would place me on the podium and I would receive a trophy for my efforts. But, I knew this race was all or nothing. I had two laps to gain one more position or all would be for naught. Luck plays a part in every race. Skill and determination can only accomplish so much. Lady luck always seems to have somewhat of a say in the final results. So far she had stripped me of my confidence by allowing me to hit one bad corner and wipe out. But, she had also helped me exit that hill on my bike rather than the inside of an ambulance. It seems that she takes great joy in being disruptive. The key is to try to avoid situations where she can be influential. My anger and rage towards Tyler allowed her to sneak in and affect my concentration. My desperation helped her to push me into making that downhill leap. It turned out to be good luck for me, but bad luck for my competitor. Though regardless of how much lady luck influenced this race, I knew one thing for certain. It was no fluke that the first place rider was still leading this race. The girl had to have talent. For as frantically as I rode and no matter how desperate my situation, I was barely gaining on her! The roles had been reversed. She was now the one with the comfortable lead. She was now able to set the cruise control, while the rest of us were scrapping with one another. Even with doing all the double jumps, hitting the whoops smoothly and managing the hill section (I backed off from the last lap, but I still made it through in decent time), I could still see that she was a full straightaway ahead of me. I jumped over the finish line jump and saw that ugly flagman, waving that ugly white flag. Usually that was a good sign, for it meant that there is only one more lap left in the race. But to me, every wave of the flag felt like a hammer striking the nails in my coffin. I could even read the inscription on the tombstone. "Here lies Joseph Straub" Then just beneath that. "May his manhood rest in peace". I couldn't let THAT happen! I gathered myself for the final, fateful lap. I flew by the pit area and noticed my parents were still there, cheering me on. My father had been holding out a pit sign for me to read as I went by each lap. After reading it the first couple of times and seeing things such as "Good job, Jennie", "Don't push too hard, sweetie", and "That's my girl", I realized that my father was much better as a mechanic than as a motivational pit crew member. I didn't even want to think about what they must have written after my crash. Probably something like "Are you ok, pumpkin?" But for some reason, on this final lap, I did glance up to see what feminized words of wisdom they would have waiting for their little daughter. I felt somewhat shocked as I read the words "We are proud" on the pit board. My parents and I always had a decent relationship, but I would never have considered us emotionally close. Maybe this new life at least had one benefit to it. But, I couldn't see that as being enough to justify the loss of my "Y" chromosome. I pushed onward. Halfway through the final lap, I knew I was doomed. I still had barely managed to gain any ground on the leader. I wasn't even close enough to read the name on her jersey. I didn't need a mathematician to calculate how much faster I needed to be going to make up enough time to win. It was easy for me to tell that I just wasn't getting it done. If only I wouldn't have crashed! I cursed myself for being so stupid! If I just would have had the chance to race head to head with this girl, I KNEW I could have taken her in the end. Hell, I was blowing her away until I went down! My frustration started to rise, but I knew I had to relax. Until all was said and done, I was in a race. I couldn't let myself get emotional now! I noticed some of the spectators started making their way away from the track. It seemed pretty obvious what the finished results were going to be. With just a few turns remaining, the leader was in prime position to finish off my masculinity. Of course, that is when it happened. Lady Luck decided to play her one final Ace. Halfway through the last jump-filled straightaway, the lead girl lost her rhythm. I know because I was just entering the straightaway as it happened. Could this be the chance I've been waiting for? My mind was too frantic to think. It appeared as though her rear end clipped the top of one of the jumps. The front end of her bike got sent into an endo (basically she was momentarily balancing on the front tire) as she was coming down the face of the jump. She didn't crash, but it was enough to stop her completely in between two of the jumps. As I started on the jumps myself, she got started again. I was gaining on her! I doubled the first set of jumps as she was stuck having to single the remaining two. I kept my momentum up, hoping beyond hope that I could beat her to the corner. I am in control of my life, you can't force me into panties! I know that I shouldn't have been angry with this girl. After all, she was just trying to win a race. But it was hard not to take anything personal when the stakes were this high. As she finished the final jump, I was a split second behind, doubling the last two on the inside of her. She hit the throttle as soon as she found flat ground and tried desperately to out-run me to the corner. But, just as men are physically more powerful than women, my bike was more powerful than hers! As she took the outside line for the final turn, her only chance to beat me to the corner, I began to set her up. I maintained my inside line and tried to get the perfect angle for the block pass. Only I never found it! Despite my recent fortune, I still wasn't ahead enough to make the pass stick in the corner! I still had the inside line, which gave me a chance. But it really only left me with one option. The only way to win this would be to let my bike drift wide into her's and force her off the track! My stomach churned at the thought, but what other option did I have? We both flew into the corner with speed and passion. The girl went wide and stuck firm to the corner. I dove on the inside. Contact was never made. The girl cleanly made it around and over the finish line jump. I followed her across by a split second. What have I done?!!! I slowly made my way back to the pits. I should say, Jennifer Straub, the new me slowly made HER way back to the pits. It was over. I couldn't bring myself to sink to Tyler's level of racing. I couldn't make the dirty pass when it counted the most. What would have it mattered? The girl would have been pissed, sure, but its not like she was being transformed into a guy because of losing the race! My good sportsmanship (sportswomanship?) had screwed me over. The 1st place girl rode over my way and congratulated me on a great race. I could barely mutter a "thanks". Of course the second person to congratulate me on my 2nd place victory was Tyler. "My oh my, isn't this something?" He gleamed. "Please... I just want to be alone." I whimpered back. "Humor me for a moment... so there you girls were, all locked in an intense chicky battle and such... you HAD the perfect opportunity to pass her at the end, but you wussed out! How fitting!" He really seemed to be enjoying himself. "It wasn't like that... it... it just wouldn't have been right..." I countered. "Oh but you could take me out in the corner when you still had your balls, right? It sounds to me like you were listening to the whimpers of your new pussy. All the girls I know seem to have that problem. Tell me, does the vibration of the seat get you all wet and horny and stuff?" He chuckled in delight. "N... no, of course not!" But I couldn't deny that riding my bike DID feel strange with my new crotch. It was a sensation I knew I would have to get used to in the upcoming years. I sighed noticeably. "What a sweet day! My greatest rival is now stuck as a teeny-bopper chicky and I'm free to dominate this race! Hell with this ring, I could be king of pro supercross and motocross! Why should I stop there? I could even become the king of the world!" He looked towards the skies, imagining the possibilities, as his eyes filled with a sinister shine. Feeling rather scared, I began to try to sneak away. "Where do you think, YOU'RE going? Get off your bike this instant!" His voice had a bold, masculine strength to it. It was a sound I knew I would no longer be able to emit. I shivered from the mere forcefulness of it and quickly got off my bike. Hmmm... so what now, sweetie? Should I turn you into an insatiable slut? How about a nice bimbo? Wanna have the world's largest tits?" His power-crazed gaze had me frozen with fear. "Please, let me go... I promise I'll stay out of your way from now on! I beg of you!" I couldn't believe how degrading this was, but I knew it was my only choice. "Well... okay, I guess stealing a guy's dick is pretty rotten enough itself. I'll leave you alone if you agree to say some certain words for me out loud in that cute, sexy voice of yours." He whispered in my ear and I felt my skin go pale. Tears started to flow from my eyes. I tried to stare into his cruel, cold eyes, but I felt my gaze drop in submission. I knelt on both knees and in my warm, gentle, female voice I began to speak... "Tyler is a god. He dominates all who oppose him and can bring any girl to their spreaded knees. I am a girl now and forevermore. I don't deserve to be a man. Tyler did me the greatest favor ever. I love him for it." Feeling satisfied with himself, he patted me on the head. "Okay, I'm sure your parents are looking for their precious daughter. If I were you, I'd take special care that our lives don't cross paths again. Who knows what I might feel like doing then?" He looked up and down my girlish body, making me blush in feminine embarrassment. I quickly got back on my bike and made my way towards my parents. I was still shaking by the time I got over to the pit area. My parents were excited for me that I had placed second, but as soon as they saw my face, they knew I must be disappointed by it. They did their best to console me, but they could tell that I was in no mood to speak. Usually placing on the podium would have me feeling excited and proud of my efforts. But as I stood on the podium with the other girls and received my trophy, I only felt more and more reminded about my permanent plight. I held the trophy in my hands and looked down at it. It was an aluminum rendition of a rider going over a jump. More specifically, you could tell that the rider was a girl. I've never received a trophy that had breasts before. But as we packed up my bike and started home, I anticipated seeing a lot more of them in my new room. I was terrified to ever go back to that track. I heard on the radio that Tyler won the race. Lying in my silk nightgown, gripping onto my pink pillow, surrounded by my boy band posters and stuffed animals, I cried myself to sleep that night... and many nights thereafter. *** 18 Years Later *** I stood on the line with all the other women. Actually, fidgeted would be a better way to describe it. If I wasn't messing with my sunglasses, I was trying to keep my arms loose. If I wasn't shaking my head (and that huge mass of hair spewing out of the back) I was adjusting my jersey. Above all I was trying to keep my mind off of how much I was dreading the dropping of the gate and the impending race. I knew this very well may be the most important race of my life (even compared to that fateful one years ago) and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it or not. My body may have looked reasonably calm to anyone passing by, but inside I was experiencing an overdose of the pre-race jitters! My stomach was tied in knots. Was I making the right choice? It was too late to turn back now. I saw the 30 second board turn sideways, heard the familiar harmonious buzzing of the motors around me and braced myself for the start. Just as the metal gate contacted the dirt I closed my eyes. When I re-opened them, the other bikes had already launched themselves down the straightaway and were heading for the first turn. I took a deep sigh of relief as I saw the pink FOX chest protector and jersey of the number 17 rider safely make it through the first turn. My husband Joe (ironically enough) held me tight as we watched our 12 year old daughter Emma take a clean start in her first ever co-ed motocross race! Sure, she had been a phenom in the 8-11 year old 60 cc. Girl's class. But this was a nice sized leap to the 12-14 year old 80 cc. class. Add to that the fact that 2 years ago the rules had been amended to allow girls race with boys and you can understand my reservations! As hypocritical as I knew I sounded, all I could think of was how MY little girl could get hurt racing against the bigger boys! Her clean start in this race allowed me to breathe a sigh of