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Brolly Dolly © Elaine 2018 This story was inspired from watching girls on the grids at Motorsports events and who are employed as eye candy in amongst all the high technology and high-octane world. Have you ever noticed that on the motor racing grids, it is usually the men who race and it's the glamorous ladies usually holding up the umbrellas to shield the riders or drivers from the sun or the rain? Just what would it be like for a boy to be suddenly exposed to that typical female role? Could he cope and just what would his reaction be particularly as he has to look and act like a girl. This story is set at initially over the weekend of a British Superbike Motor Cycle Racing event at Donington Park in Leicestershire a few years ago. Chapter 1 - Day 1 - Thursday In our motorcycle racing team this season we had Brent who actually did the racing and his beautiful sister Marcia or Marcy as we usually called her. Then there was me and I'm Larry while the other two in the team were our pair of enthusiastic mechanics called Joe and Eddie. That weekend, there was just the four of us to support our rider Brent who was a leading privateer in the dangerous world of racing high- powered superbikes. His sister Marcy helped run the team and provided the correct feminine balance to this macho world we inhabited each weekend. She it was who ran the catering, the organisation, the lap timing and scoring, and bossed the guys around and lastly, she had the glamorous job of holding up the sponsorship brolly on the grid. Mind you she was also stunningly good looking and had a job as a beautician. Both Joe and Eddie were our two experienced mechanics who would have to fix both of Brent's thoroughbred 1000cc racing Yamahas when they went bang or more often than not when Brent crashed. And what was my role? Well my unwritten job description was that I was just the 'go for' in the team. Go for? Simple because I'd 'go for' this and I'd 'go for' that. If it was for some oil or some special fuel or a tyre, they would send me to go and get it. I had other jobs too but running errands for the others was my main activity. Usually a few other friends and other close members of Brent's family would also tag along, but that weekend in the East Midlands at Donington Park there were just the five of us with me doing all of the errands as there was no one else. So, Brent's job would be to ride the wheels off the bikes that Joe and Eddie would then spend hours fixing. Marcy would do some of the cooking and was the obvious only choice to have the brolly dolly role when the TV cameras covered the grid just before the races. Marcy had a great curvaceous figure and would wear the sponsor's skin tight white leotard that left virtually nothing to the imagination particularly on cold days. She would put her honey blonde hair in a tight comb back with a ponytail and then she'd wear these impossible platform soled spike heels to complete the typical sexy look she wanted. She would often admit to me that it took some effort to master walking in those shoes as well as causing her a great deal of pain. Despite that though, Marcy always looked naturally happy and glamorous whenever the cameras were pointed in her direction. Marcy standing on the grid as the brolly dolly wasn't just for show towards our main sponsor; it was actually a contractual obligation that they'd placed on Brent. A pretty girl had to be present on the grid to ensure that their sponsor's logo was seen on television. Marcy's tight outfit and the umbrella were splashed all over with the logo. So that particular weekend, we arrived as usual late on the Thursday night and set up camp in the fading light in a quiet remote spot in the paddock we'd found that fortunately was still quite close to the pits. Brent had been allocated a pit garage and I thought it would have been better but he preferred to keep his bike and tools together beside his large truck that had space for the bikes and the sleeping arrangements. We had a large tent-like structure or awning to erect and interlocking plastic flooring to lay before we could get both the race bikes out of the truck. Why two bikes? It's quite simple. One was his spare bike and could be set up for wet weather as it was in a milder state of tuning. The other was his race bike and a full race engine kit installed at great cost. Despite there just being the five of us, we'd had plenty of practice at the job and within an hour our base was already coming together so the other guys asked Marcy and I to go and get them some burgers and chips from the paddock fast food place which was a couple of hundred yards away. It was further into the paddock and was always popular because it was cheap, fast and convenient. As I took a 20 pound note out of the petty cash jar, for some reason, Marcy decided to fish out her latest pair of size 8 tan coloured 6" heels from their box and put them on. I went down the steps of the truck easily and waited patiently on her to get her new shoes on. As she came out of the truck, I gave her a courteous steadying hand too so she could come down the steep steps easier. "Thanks Larry," she said getting her feet on the ground safely enough but the plastic matting contained numerous holes that would damage her heels and so I gave her my elbow to lean on as she slowly and carefully negotiated out of the awning. "Why don't you go and put on a more practical pair of shoes?" I suggested then added, "We're just going to get some burgers so I can wait. It's not like you're going out clubbing now is it?" "Oh Larry, I just got these on eBay and I really need to break them in before Sunday. The best way I've found is simply to walk about in them. So, I think it's better to do it now rather than try them on the day," she explained. "Well if you need any support you can always lean on me," I admitted gallantly. "Thanks," she replied. "I am OK now but it might get a bit difficult on the way back." With her wearing these ultrahigh platform soled stilettos with their impossible six-inch heels and me in my usual flat soled trainers she towered over me by a couple of inches. After confirming the orders with the guys, we got moving slowly up the grass covered hill towards the fast food place with her taking these small mincing and it seemed agony filled steps. Her face grimaced every time she would walk over some rough ground and the situation of this intelligent woman crippling herself for no real reason left me constantly amused. I simply added to it by constantly ribbing her about her choice of absurd footwear. "Oh, Larry do shut up about my shoes or I'll fucking make you wear the damn things to break them in for me until Sunday," she said seriously. "I'd rather be dead than wear those," I said still amused at her voluntary discomfort. "Besides to me they look like medieval instruments of torture rather than fashion statements to me." With her taking these small mincing steps and holding onto me like mad, we made slow progress to the burger van and we were disappointed to see that a small queue was outside it. "Why is there such along queue?" I asked Ian who was a mechanic of a rival superbike team just in front of us when we finally tagged onto the rear. "It seems they ran out of bottled gas for the cooker stove and couldn't get the new bottle hooked up," he explained. "Some of us mechanics managed to get it attached though so at least we can get some decent grub." So, we stood around patiently for what seemed like hours as those in front of us got served first. I had forgotten all about Marcy and her shoes, when she suddenly left the queue and went to sit down on a park bench beside the burger van doorway to massage her feet and ankles. I had committed the order to memory and had all the money, so it wasn't a problem that she wanted to sit down. However, what happened next wasn't in the script and as I heard her let out a loud piercing scream. I turned to see Marcy sprawling out on the ground and writhing in agony clutching her right ankle. I immediately rushed over to her aid. "Are you all right?" I asked but seeing nothing but pain etched on her face. "No, I'm not all bloody right!" she admitted angrily. "I think I've broken my fucking ankle tripping on that stupid cable." With my basic first aid training I promptly checked out her ankle and I deduced that she probably hadn't broken it but it was swelling up like a balloon from the trauma. She was clearly in a great deal of pain and walking was going to be difficult if not impossible. "I don't think it's broken but we won't know for sure until it's X- rayed," I said trying to calm her down a little. "Brent will kill me for this. We're bloody shorthanded as it is this weekend and now, I can't even walk," she said with tears smearing her heavily coated eyelashes. It made her look a bit sad with the black makeup running down her cheeks. I never understood why she always wore a lot of makeup. "Don't worry about that," I said helping her up on to the bench seat with the aid of a couple of other mechanics. "Thanks," she said. "Don't worry about me. Just go and get the food before they're all bloody sold out." So, I re-joined at the back of the queue again and slowly worked my way to the front. Just then Eddie came by wondering what had happened to us and I pointed to Marcy who had her foot still on the table in a forlorn bid to get the swelling down. "Eddie!" I shouted an order. "Go and get Joe to help take her back! I'll get the grub and come after you." Eddie ran back and with Joe, the two of them carried her gently back to our truck. They laid out a bed inside the crew compartment of the truck and they gently placed her onto it. Eddie put her foot onto some soft pillows while Joe got her an icepack out of the freezer compartment of the truck's fridge. It was almost 15 minutes later when I finally arrived back with the meals. They were all very worried about Marcy particularly her brother Brent and she looked quite glum. She kept on apologising for letting the team down on such a busy weekend. "Marcy please don't worry about it," Brent said rewrapping the ice pack around her still swollen ankle and tying it in place with silver duct tape. "It is really handy stuff that duct tape," said Joe putting her heels in the cupboard under the bed. "That ice should help ease the pain and the swelling." With her resting, we left her lying down in the truck and sat down to eat the burgers and chips before they got cold. Brent opened up a few cold beers and passed them around to us as darkness finally descended outside. "What will we do about her on Sunday?" asked Joe. "I doubt she'll be fit enough to be on the grid as her ankle looks really quite bad. She can hardly hold an umbrella and crutches at the same time." "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," admitted Brent. "Maybe we'll be able to get a girl from another team to stand in for her?" "Yes, we can always ask around can't we Larry?" smiled Joe referring to me as the team 'go for' as usual. "I'll ask around with what's left of tonight and again tomorrow," I replied cheerfully in between munching my well-deserved supper. I suspected it would be difficult to get someone else. "We must find someone as the sponsorship contract I have with Jones specifically says that we have to have someone on the grid wearing the clothes with their logo and holding up their logo covered brolly," said Brent starting to look a bit worried. "If we don't have that, they can easily pull the plug on their sponsorship there and then." "Yeah, I heard they were a bit annoyed about that last result at Cadwell," added Eddie unhelpfully referring to when Brent had been lapped by the leaders on the very last lap of the race right in front of the television cameras. "We can't give them any excuses to cut us off, so we'll need to do what we can to stop that happening," said Brent and we all nodded agreement, as our mouths were still crammed with food. So, after our takeaway meal, I headed out and asked around all the other teams I knew to see if we could borrow a girl for the grid. I must have walked around the entire superbike paddock and apart from a couple of older women who could pass for my grandmother who'd said they would be glad to help; I'd drawn a complete blank. After 90 minutes of asking around, I headed back to our part of the paddock to see the guys still working and checking the bikes as usual. I gave them the unwelcome news that the only women I could get were the same age as my grandmother. I hopped onto the truck to see Marcy still stretched out and seemingly asleep with a half-eaten burger and an uneaten box of fries lying beside her. I picked it all up and the noise of the wrappers woke her, and she grimaced in pain again. "Sorry I didn't mean to disturb you," I said apologising and dropping the food and wrappers into the trash can just outside the truck door. I saw that it already needed emptying which was another of my usual mundane jobs. "It's ok I wasn't asleep," she said moving slightly and obviously still in a lot of pain when I returned from throwing the trash in the waste container. "How did you get on finding someone to replace me?" "I didn't do too well," I confessed and then explained. "Most of the other teams use contract agency girls and Brent says we really can't afford their fees on our budget. I certainly didn't find anyone as young or as pretty as you." "Well if push comes to shove, maybe you can do it Larry?" she queried and then laughed. "I mean after all you are the 'go for' in the team. It's your job to do all the odd jobs that need doing." "Give over!" I said. "That fall did more than damage your ankle, I think it must have addled your brain too." "I don't know though with some clever makeup, some good styling on that long mousy blonde hair of yours, a little padding here and there, some sexy clothing and I could definitely get you to pass as a girl," she said confidently but finding the situation amusing. "You're also quite petite and I know you have the same shoe size as me." "Give over! Look there's no way in hell I'm going to stand on the grid looking like a girl and appear on national television! Even more so if Brent manages to get a good grid position," I replied angrily and indignantly towards her. "Particularly in those stupid high heeled shoes of yours. It was them that caused this problem in the first place!" "We'll see," she said looking much happier and she was obviously plotting something. "You do know I work in a beauty salon, don't you?" "Yes, I know you do," I replied but adamantly replied. "Even so I've no intentions of being embarrassed on national TV thanks very much." With that, I disgruntledly walked out to the guys who had their heads bowed over the spare bike and they were busy looking at the spark plugs. So, I picked up the full waste bin and headed towards the awning doorway. For some reason the idea of what she'd suggested inwardly excited me but I really felt I did my best to make it look like I was very reluctant. "Maybe if we try the plugs, we bought last time, she'll run better?" Brent suggested. "No, it's definitely the fuel injection system that's wrong," opined Eddie. "I think we should also try the new trick electronic ignition box we bought for the number 1 bike and put it on here," said Joe. "just to try it." "That will take a few hours to swap them over though," said Brent. "Then we would need to put it back on the Number 1 bike before untimed practice tomorrow. So, it's a bit late to do it." "Well if anything goes wrong with the number 1 bike, we could swap the ignition over then," I suggested but was given a look of don't butt in and you don't know what you're talking about. "It's a pity we didn't have another sponsor so both bikes were completely identical with the same trick parts we know would work on both," said Brent. They agreed to leave both bikes just as they were before practice started the next day, while I headed for the waste skip to deposit our first bag of rubbish of the weekend. Chapter 2 -Day 2- Friday After a few weeks of constant rain, it was nice to see that warming sunshine greeted us for the first day of practice that Friday. Before we could do any practice though, we carried Marcy to the circuit medical centre for a check-up just as it opened. Her ankle was still swollen but the circuit doctor confirmed with an x-ray that it was just really badly sprained. The medical staff strapped up her ankle, gave her a small bottle of painkillers and a letter to give to her family doctor when she got home. She was also told to rest the ankle as much as possible and to keep it elevated to help reduce the swelling. They even let her borrow a pair of crutches to help her get around easier. She was in a much better mood but was clearly still worried that she wouldn't be on the grid as Brent's brolly dolly. Brent then made some enquiries of his own with one of the bigger works teams about hiring a model from their agency but he instantly dismissed that idea when he found out the cost was going to be almost ?1000 and way too much for his already tight shoestring budget. "I'm not going to pay that kind of money when the bikes still need so much spent on them," he said sitting down dejectedly on the chair as I brought his racing leathers to him in a holdall. Instead of getting changed though he continued to discuss the situation about Marcy. "So, what do we do if Marcy can't make it?" asked Eddie wiping clean engine oil off his hands with a cloth rag. "There are a few more days until Sunday. Maybe we can just pray for a miracle that she'll be fit in time?" asked Joe filling up the handcart with his tools, spare wheels and tyres that they'd need for the start of untimed practice. "I read the Jones sponsorship agreement again last night and it definitely says that we need someone on the grid to promote their company wearing their provided outfit and carrying their umbrella which carries their logo. It doesn't say that the person holding the brolly needs to be a girl though," Brent said seriously suddenly looking at me. Joe and Eddie though saw the funny side. "Maybe Larry could do it after all then? If he can squeeze into that tight spandex outfit of Marcy's he could do it," said Joe. I was nearby and groaned with displeasure at hearing Joe's comment. "Well I don't like the idea one little bit! Everyone will laugh at me dressed up like that and they'll know that I'm obviously a bloke!" Marcy had been listening to our chat from inside the truck and then shouted. "I know that I can make Larry look like a convincing girl very easily." They all looked at one another and then at me before bursting out in laughter again. "So how would you do that Marcy?" shouted Brent back at her suddenly getting quite serious again. "Oh, we can get a little extra padding here and there, some expert makeup from me and get his long hair styled in a very feminine way," she shouted back. "Well there's no way in hell I'm going to agree to that!" I replied firmly. "Surely there must be a girl in the crowd who might like the job of being on the grid?" Brent then considered my comment and decided that it just wouldn't work, "Whoever we use, it'll cost us a lot of trouble and right now we can't really afford it. Besides it's got to be someone we know and can trust." Marcy had hoisted herself to the doorway of the truck and gingerly sat down on the top step. "Think about it, Larry. At most you'll be dressed up for maybe 30 minutes on Sunday and you could wear my long warm paddock jacket until you reach the grid so you wouldn't really be seen." "N - O spells NO!" I replied adamantly and openly defiant. "What would you say if no one knew or it was impossible to tell that you were a boy?" she asked. "I could make you over to look as feminine as possible, so no one would ever know or suspect." "Of course, everyone would know," I replied unhappily at this team still forcing this crazy issue onto me. "I'm missing some of your bumps and curves or didn't you already notice that Marcy?" "Like I said we can easily take care of that," she smiled. I wasn't in the mood for any more Mickey taking, so stomped off to get the blank timing sheets and the lap scoring board from my bag. Brent brought everyone back to reality by saying, "I'm going to get some track time on the race bike when untimed practice begins so we'll talk about it later." Brent then sat and started to get his leathers and protective body armour on, as Joe and Eddie added some high-octane petrol to the tank and checked all the fluid levels on the bike were correct. Within 30 minutes, Eddie was pushing the race bike up to the assembly area near pit lane while Joe was pulling a small trolley with several types of tyres and wheels and his well-stocked toolbox. As usual, I carried the pit lane equipment. Brent brought up the rear carrying his newly painted race helmet and gloves. We left Marcy in the truck seemingly content with her mobile phone playing her favourite games or so I thought. When the green light went on to indicate the start of practice, Brent was one of the first out on to the track and started to put in some good lap times so that he was quickly up to third in the privateer category. He was also less than a second outside the quickest works riders despite the cooler morning track temperatures. He came in a few times for some minor adjustments and checks before setting out again on a few more laps. His in and out laps were always slower but on the second or third laps you could tell he was trying harder as the bike was briefly hitting the rev limiter down past the start finish straight where I was standing. "We still definitely need a better electronics package," shouted Eddie in my ear over the noise of screaming motorcycle engines flashing past. "The bike shouldn't be doing that and it's costing him a lot of time." After exactly twenty laps of practice, Brent came in again to fit new wheels that had softer compound tyres and at ?200 a wheel, he was hoping that the new tyres would give him a much better lap time. Despite it being just an ordinary untimed practice session instead of qualifying, everyone including Brent was taking it extremely seriously. He managed to shave off another half a second using the new tyres but then everyone else had improved too, so we ended up the session in exactly same position we'd started it. He was fifteenth and two seconds adrift of the unofficial pole rider on the works Kawasaki. It was on Brent's final lap that potential disaster struck as he slid off, while entering the slow right- hand hairpin. The slowest corner on the track meant he was unhurt apart from a small bruise on his rear but the bike slid off the tarmac and onto the still wet grass. The bike then dug into the grass and rolled several times crunching expensive bodywork with every roll. When the session finally ended, we waited around for 10 minutes while we got the bike back from the breakdown truck and it was clear the damage would take a good few hours to fix. Some of the bodywork panels could be repaired but we would be looking to rob some parts from the spare number 2 bike that had identical paintwork apart from a small number 2 on the number plate. There was some optimism but a lot of work lay ahead to get the race bike ready again for official practice and timed qualifying the following day. We were surprised to see Marcy sitting in one of the chairs inside the awning rather than in the truck with her foot resting on the seat of another chair. She had a contented look on her face until she saw the bike wheeled in missing large chunks of expensive bodywork. "What the hell happened?" she asked sitting up and suddenly alarmed for her brother's safety. "Brent thinks that he touched some oil at the hairpin," said Eddie putting the bike on a stand so it could be raised up higher which Joe promptly operated, as he was keen to get going to fix it. "Sorry guys," said Brent who had just returned from the medical centre for the usual precautionary check-up after a rider falls off. He'd passed the medical check by the doctor and so he sat down to take off his now slightly scuffed leathers and boots. He stood up briefly in his underwear and then slipped on his customary, T-shirt, jeans and then overalls. He didn't have an ounce of fat anywhere on his torso. "I guess the first job is to get the damaged stuff off the bike," said Brent already taking a screwdriver to the first of many broken and scraped fairing panels. Both Eddie and Joe were impressed by his enthusiasm for a man who'd just seriously damaged his race bike. While the others had collected the bike, I'd gone off to race control as usual and obtained a copy of the official timing results sheet. When I gave the sheet to Brent, he briefly stopped the repair to study it with great interest. I then went over to the cab of the truck to prepare lunch for everyone. I'd become a good cook over the past few seasons with my favourite dishes being easy and fast to make Italian meals, such as pasta and even the odd chilli con carne. When I had it ready, they ate and worked at the same time to repair the damage. Although there was an afternoon unofficial practice session, it was decided that Brent should miss it and get the race bike completely back to normal before official qualifying practice began the next day. After an hour, all the damaged parts were removed, and the bike still looked a mess, with it standing minus the fairing and with pieces of grass and mud hanging out everywhere. While they continued to work hard on the bike in the afternoon, I just spent time tending after Marcy and the guys as they wanted. I got them drinks and snacks and would even tidy up some of the mess they'd left behind. I'd also sit and keep Marcy company, but she was busy with her phone on eBay for some reason. She wrote down stuff in her notebook and then at around 2pm she finally handed me a ripped-out page. "Ok Larry your next assignment is to get everything on that piece of paper," she said looking at me seriously. "What is it?" I asked forgetting all about her idea about me taking her place on the grid. "You'll have to go to that address and collect the items on that list. I've just paid for them," she said. "They will be waiting for you so just take my car to collect them." "Collect what?" I asked opening the page to view her note. My eyes soon read her neat handwriting and realised instantly what she had in mind. 'Breast Forms Size D cup with application adhesive' 'Padded body shaping panties 2 pairs' 'Under bust fabric corset' 'Strawberry blonde hair pieces 7 off' 'Makeup kit including false nails and eyelashes' 'Hair removal (Braun Epilady)' 'Hair removal cream (two tubes Veet)'. "You're not serious?" I said looking at her and then back again at the list. I was shocked. "Perfectly serious," she said. "So much so I've already paid for it all from my PayPal account. It was my fault that I tripped, so I'll pick up the tab and fix the problem for the team through you." I groaned. "It must have cost you a fortune and it'll be a complete waste of money as I'm not going or wearing any of it." She then sat back in her chair and then quietly dropped a bombshell on me. "Well as I see it, I know how much you enjoy helping Brent and the guys out when we go racing," she started. "I do enjoy it. It's always great fun even if I'm no good with engines. I just like to be useful," I replied honestly. "Well then I think that if you really want to stay in the team then you'll have to consider helping us out here with this job too," she threatened explaining why I really didn't have any choice. "But Marcy I just can't do this," I complained. "I just can't! It's really quite unfair of you to ask this." "If I promise that even your own mother won't recognise you after I'm finished, will you do it?" "No!" I said adamantly. "Well in that case we'll not need you here in future," she confirmed. "Because the team will have to fold up without our sponsorship deal with Jones." "You can't mean that!" I whined unhappily. "That's blackmail!" "Call it what you like but that's what the whole team have decided," she declared. "OK then but please give me some time to think about it?" "What is there to think about?" she replied. "There's really no time to think about it and besides who is going to know?" "How will other people not know?" I asked seeking confirmation from her. "Well for one thing you'll have a nice head of long Strawberry blonde wavy hair," she replied. "Blonde?" I asked. "Yes, we'll get you to stop at Boots the Chemist to get a blonde hair colour kit." "And just how do I explain that long blonde wavy hair to my Mum when I get home?" I asked. "We'll just say that I was trying out an experiment on your hair." "Yes, that's sure to convince her," I replied sarcastically. "Oh, ok then we'll get another hair kit to dye it back. I'll write the ones I want you to get on the list. Now take the keys to my car and go to this first address. Put the address details into the sat nav." "Oh but," I said trying to stall her. "No buts," she replied. So very reluctantly around an hour later, I sat down in the driving seat of her sporty little hatchback and then set off for the first address on the paper. With the Sat Nav switched on and set to the postcode it didn't take me long to find the shop which I spotted easily up a side street in a nearby town. Fortunately, there were no parking restrictions and I could park easily right outside the shop. As I walked into the shop I immediately noticed that it catered for transvestites and drag queens. Luckily I saw that they had everything ready and boxed up waiting for me to collect it. However just when I thought that I wouldn't have any further embarrassment, they decided to check the box off against Marcy's handwritten list and I grimaced when they opened up the comprehensive makeup box with the long false eyelashes and colour makeup palette staring back at me. It also included several tubes of different lipsticks in various shades of red. "The only thing you'll need that she hasn't ordered is the spray to help remove the breast forms," said the man putting the realistic D cup breast forms back in their box. "Did she order it?" I asked hoping that she had. "Nope," he said looking at the list. "She hasn't. However, since she's been a good customer, I'll just throw that in for free." "Thanks," I said, "that's very good of you." On my way back to the racetrack, I had to stop and take a phone call from Marcy. She gave me the address of the nearest shopping mall to visit and told me to write down the list of items I had to buy. 'Black or navy-blue knee length skirt - Size 14' 'Cotton Blouse Size 14' 'Two Bra and panty sets for Size 38D and Size 14' '2 packets of black shapewear pantyhose size L/XL' 'Strappy wedge sandals size 8' 'Eyeliner applicator' 'Hair colour kit - strawberry blonde' 'Two or three bottles of UV colour nail polishes including a bottle of UV clear top coat.' There was no mention of a restoration hair colour so I quizzed her about it and just why did I need the other items of clothing if I was going to be only on the grid? "Yes, take a look at the other hair colour boxes and try and match it to your current hair," she advised. "I think you're a light brunette in shade. The other stuff is just in case you somehow need to wear something else." "Why do I need all that stuff for?" I asked really annoyed. "I thought you said I wouldn't be dressed more than an hour or so on Sunday plus I'm not paying for all that stuff." I sat looking at this latest list of items unhappily. "Don't worry about why you need it plus I'll give you the money when you get back here," she said. "Let me know if any items are out of stock as you'll need to try another store." I easily found the mall she talked about and quickly found the ladies clothing section in the store she mentioned. I dumbly asked a lady assistant to help me with my list and she gleefully helped with it all. I walked out with a knee length skirt, pantyhose, wedge sandals, blouse and underwear including two pairs of matching bra and panties. I added the shopping bags to the rest of the things in the boot of the car and but before I could finally set off back to the track, I had a visit to the local pharmacy to make and that got me the rest of the items. Driving on the way back, I was in two minds about it all. On the one hand, I was quite glad the shopping trip was over as I'd been extremely embarrassed having to buy these distinctly feminine items however I wasn't really looking forward to what she now had planned. "Good boy," smiled Marcy as I finally dumped a few shopping bags onto the table before going to get the rest from her car. "Thanks. I can't help feeling I've sealed my own doom though," I replied when I got back with the remaining bags and the box from the first shop. "Don't be silly; just imagine the fun you'll have when no one recognises you on the grid," she laughed. "There you'll be on national television and no one except us will know you're actually a boy." "I can't wait," I replied sarcastically handing over the receipt from my last stop and the other items. "When does all this transformation you have in mind actually start?" "Well I was thinking it should be today," she said handing me all the cash to cover my outlays after she'd examined the receipts and totted it all up. "Today?" I asked my jaw dropping. "Yes today. We have to fill in a form and attach a passport size photo of you for the grid pass you'll need on Sunday anyway. That means you need to look something like you would on the grid and so we really need to get that done today." "You're kidding me, right?" I asked incredulously. "You said it would only need to be on Sunday." "Do I look like I'm kidding?" she asked. I could tell from her face she wasn't. She looked deadly serious. "God," I said unhappy that this was happening so soon. "So, what happens now?" "We'll first need to get rid of any body hair you have and get that lovely head of hair of yours washed and conditioned. Then dyed and styled." "But I don't have that much body hair," I replied. "Won't what I do have, be covered by the outfit?" "Stop whining. Whatever you do have, will all have to go," she stated holding up the two tubes of the hair remover and the epilady. "That's what this stuff is for." She also handed me her large soft pink fluffy towel, a bottle of shampoo and conditioner and gave me instructions on what I needed to do. Leave your hair fairly wet but dry off your body after you've removed the body hair. We'll use the Epilady to remove any straggly hairs the hair remover has missed when you get back." After all the running around I'd already done that weekend, I really needed a shower anyway and so in two minds I headed up to the circuit showers reserved for teams which were thankfully quiet as if the racing competition was more important than having a shower. Quickly, I found a changing cubicle to get all my clothes off and after reading the instructions liberally swathed my body in the hair remover cream. Then I stood patiently inside the cubicle shivering as I waited for the required number of minutes to tick by. My skin was starting to get itchy and burn. I kept looking at my watch and I'd managed 15 minutes before I realised that I could stand it no longer. I gratefully rushed to operate the shower lever and stood under the hot water to hose that hellish smelling hair remover cream off. When I finished, I could feel that my skin was a good bit softer and apart from a few hairs near my belly button most of my body hair that I could see was all gone. Unbeknownst to me though I had some hair left still on my back. Then I did as Marcy asked and washed my hair three times before giving it a thorough conditioner treatment. I was tempted to give my soaking wet hair a thorough dry using the wall mounted hairdryer but decided to go along with her wishes and just towelled it a little drier. Thus, I walked back to our little campsite with a mounting feeling of dread and foreboding. While I'd been away, Marcy had organised some privacy and had told the guys to get out of sight for an hour or so. She had them organise things so I would sit on a stool in front of her chair. "Sit here," she ordered pointing to the stool. "I can work on your hair easier if you do." So, with me sitting below her level, she started by combing my hair out and then trimming the ends so it was neater all the way round. She then had me face her and she created a neat fringe. "We'll need to colour your hair lighter but we can do that later. For now, we'll first give it some feminine styling," she said softly as she brushed and dried my hair out. She dried my hair using her professional hairdryer making sure that my hair was well brushed as she did so. With the heat from the dryer it wasn't long before she had it light and airy. "Do you think my long blonde hair is real?" she asked switching off the hairdryer so her voice sounded like a shout. "I've always thought that it was," I replied. Then she undid some clips at the back of her hair and showed me what it was that gave her hair such volume. "If I put in one like this and a few more into your existing hair and then it will add lots of volume and length. When it's all brushed, your existing hair will look completely different," she explained. She started adding the hair switches until she was satisfied with the change she'd created in my hair. Then she brushed it all out and when she was done, she showed me the result in the small mirror. I was astonished at the feminine style she'd created in such a short space of time with long hair cascading down my back with my face now framed with long hair. "Right turn around and face me again; then lean closer in toward me," she commanded picking up a pair of tweezers. "Now are they what I think they are for?" I asked anxiously as she started to look at my eyes holding the tweezers. "Yes, we really need to do your bushy eyebrows," she said. "They're a mess." "Oh, but I like them the way they are," I replied as she had me move even closer to this instrument of torture. She then started actively plucking the hairs of my eyebrows and I winced in pain time after time. I never knew one eyebrow had so many hairs in it. "Owh," I said after another tough hair was plucked out. "Baby," she sneered. "I'm taking out all your thick wiry hairs and leaving the thinner hairs so your eyebrows will look much more feminine in style and weight. Those are the ones that hurt the most." After around 20 minutes, she finally moved onto my other eyebrow leaving the recently plucked eyebrow smarting and feeling red raw. "Now I know what a plucked chicken must feel like," I said as she inflicted pain after pain on my other eyebrow's hairs. With both eyebrows plucked roughly done, she then concentrated on making both arches symmetrical. She then applied some antiseptic lotion to both my eyebrows before using her own soft brown eyebrow pencil to make up my new eyebrows into finer elegant darker arches. "Before we start on your makeup, we should remove the rest of your body hair so turn around again and drop your shirt or better still remove it," she ordered. With the Epilady, she literally used it to pluck all the hairs out of my neck and lower back. That operation really hurt and she applied the icepack from her ankle directly onto my back to relieve the pains. She methodically worked up and down my back before taking a few remaining hairs off my chest area that I'd missed. "Go into the truck and get a basin of hot water please," she then commanded. While I was gone, she opened up the hair colour box and put on the plastic gloves. "Get a couple of towels too," she shouted. I returned with the basin of hot water and after she'd wrapped a towel around my neck, she poured hot water using a plastic cup to wet my hair again. "Now hold still," she ordered as she slowly massaged my scalp using the blonde hair dye. "Right now, we wait the required time." We waited the 10 minutes or so and without any warning, she started to rinse my hair using the now cold water in the basin. "Wow that water's cold already," I cried after the initial shock. After a couple of rinses of water, she wrapped my long-wet hair up into a towel so it resembled a turban to enable it to dry. "We might as well start on your makeup too while your hair dries," she said picking up a pot of matte foundation cream however, she cleansed my face first using an alcohol wipe. "That's to clean out your pores," she said showing me the dirty wipe. No sooner was my face cleaned then she started to sponge the foundation cream onto my face and then blend it into my skin. She applied other powders and paints until she was completely satisfied with how I looked. That done, she picked up a small box with two long false eyelashes mounted inside. She pulled one and then the other out and started to apply the adhesive. "Wait! Do I have to wear those spiders on my face too?" I asked suddenly alarmed and unhappy at this new activity. "Well most grid girls do wear false eyelashes these days and your own lashes are not very long sadly. I can put lots of mascara on yours but this is faster, easier and I think much prettier," she explained after waiting for the glue to dry a little. She took my silence to mean that I'd agreed and before I could reply she commanded, "Now hold still and look down!" She pushed each one gently onto my eyelids and when I eventually opened my eyes wide and blinked a few times, I could feel the strange weight of them. When I looked at her, I could see the lashes in my vision too which was all a bit strange. It forced me to lift my head up so I could see normally again. She then took a fine eyeliner pen and started to line my eyes in black which was thicker at the edges. Finally, she applied some matte red lipstick and sealed it with some gloss sealer. "There now, take a look so far," she ordered taking the towel off my hair as she turned the mirror. "Now then let's blow dry your hair." She dried my much lighter hair and declared herself satisfied when she switched off the hairdryer. I could feel my hair cascading down my naked back. "There, take another look," she ordered as she continued brushing my hair. I know it sounds obvious but my jaw dropped when I saw my new feminine image for the first time. I didn't recognise me anywhere in the mirror. "Impressed you I can tell," said Marcy nodding at my stunned silence. "Even your mother wouldn't recognise you now." "You are right she wouldn't and I'm well impressed!" I said still in my normal deep voice. "I can't see the old me in the mirror anywhere." "There's yet more to come," she ordered, "Show me your chest again." Somewhat reluctantly, I did as she asked and she painfully worked the Epilady up and down my chest again removing the last few hairs that had been missed. "Oh God that really hurts," I said watching the hairs being pulled out of my skin. I was only happy when she finally switched it off. Ignoring me, she started to pull the breast forms out of the big box. She applied the glue to the underside of one and then gently held it over my own right nipple until she was satisfied that the glue had set. Then she repeated the process with the other and when I looked down, I had two moving blobs that looked like breasts stuck to my chest. She dabbed some foundation near the edges of the forms to blend them in a little with my own skin. "You'll need this," she said handing me an underwire bra that still had the labelling and price tag on it. I pulled the labels off and then she gave me instructions on how to put it on properly. I'd worn a bra once before when I'd played with my sister in my parent's bedroom but this was very different. "Put the cups behind you and do up the hooks in front. Then spin it around so the cups are in front. That's it. Now pull up the bra so the breast forms are nestling inside the cups and pull up the shoulder straps over your shoulders. They'll need adjusting a little bit so we'll get that done." With that, she helped adjust the bra straps so it was the correct fit and tightened the back hooks a little more that actually made it feel much more comfortable as the bra took most of the weight of the breast forms. The thin bra straps cut into my shoulders though. "There now it's an almost perfect fit," She declared delighted. "You have a nice pair of C cup boobs." I was actually amazed that the forms fitted inside the bra perfectly, the bra did actually support their weight, and so they wouldn't be uncomfortable or stretch my skin. She handed me a white blouse that I saw had quite stretchy material and that the buttons were the wrong way around. I did up the buttons though and left a couple near the top undone giving me a cleavage that seemed to be better than Marcy's. "We're not finished yet. Go and get the small white plastic box that's in the freezer," she ordered. So, with my top looking very feminine while still wearing my usual male jogging pants and trainers I went to get what she wanted. I took it and duly handed it over to her. She opened it and told me to sit down again. "This is going to hurt you a little but unfortunately there isn't any easy way to do it here other than like this," she said taking my hair and lifting it up slightly. She grabbed my earlobe and I screamed, "God you are not fucking piercing my ears too! I don't want my fucking ears pierced!" "You're a wimp! It's only for a few days and when you get home, they'll heal up with hardly a mark," she explained still holding onto my earlobe with a tight grip. "Who knows you might actually like wearing earrings." "Don't you have any clip-on earrings I can use though?" I asked forlornly. "If I did do you think I'd be piercing your ears?" she asked trying to make me feel stupid. "Nobody wears clip-on earrings any more now hold still!" she commanded. Therefore, I very reluctantly let her pierce my right ear with the sterile needle after she had numbed up my earlobe with the ice pack. She repeated the process with the other ear before cleaning up the small amount of blood that had oozed out. When she showed me the result, I was even more annoyed though as instead of one piercing I saw that I had two earrings side by side in both my earlobes. One was a small pearl and the other a golden globe stud both penetrating my flesh. "Jeez not two in each ear," I wailed. "I'll give you some longer hoop earrings on Sunday," she said ignoring my comment. "Those will allow the holes to heal up until then." "Gee thanks," I replied sarcastically and feeling very annoyed that this was going way further than I'd ever imagined. "Give me your hands now," she ordered and I reluctantly held out my hands wondering what lay in store. She picked up a box and inside it was bag after bag of plastic nails numbered one to ten. "Not those silly false nails too surely?" I said seeing her open the small sealable bags with her own long nails expertly enough. "Yes well, we have to make your short and untidy nails look a bit better with these. I borrowed some of the boy's superglue from their toolkit which is a lot stronger than the usual nail glue so these nails should hold up well for the rest of the weekend." She carefully sized up the nails against each finger and she laid out the nails she'd use in two rows of five. She started with my right thumb and started to scrape the inside of the false nail using a pair of scissors. Little pieces of plastic were scraped off so I asked, "What are you doing?" "This roughens the inside surface and means the superglue bonds better to your nail. I'll roughen up your own nails in a few with a file and then we can start to put them on." "They are going to be much too long," I said unhappily as she held the first nail in place for a couple of minutes, pressing hard and so expelling the air from the surface of my nail and allowing the glue to spread and harden. When she finally let go it was as if the false nail was bonded to or had become part of my own nail. "Don't worry I'll shorten them when they're all set," she explained after my complaint. She was also quick and experienced. She finished my right hand and then moved immediately onto my left hand gluing the nails onto each of my own nails. They did look sexy on my hands if hugely impractical. "Now we need to trim them down a bit," she said wielding a chrome and red plastic handled nail cutter. She eased it over my new nails and then cut off the excess material. I was pleased to see my nails would be a good bit shorter but obviously, they were still a good bit too long for normal use as far as I was concerned. However, she then filed and shaped them into ovals and then gave them a first coat of what I was to learn was UV gel polish. On finishing the first hand, she put my fingers under a blue lamp and I could feel a sharp stinging pain in each nail as if they were being heated up by what I later learned was a chemical reaction. She quickly repeated the process with the other hand. "There now, we're all done," she smiled after she'd buffed them up to a brilliant shine "If you have any problems then let me know as soon as possible and we'll do a repair. I'll try and give you a French polish look on Sunday Morning or tomorrow but that will do for now," she added. "A French what?" I asked. "Haven't you seen girls with their long white tipped nails?" She asked back by way of an explanation. "Yes of course I have." "Well then that's a French polish style," she explained. "There are lots of variations to that style too." I studied my new longer nails and wondered how in hell I was going to manage with them that long. "Right we're almost done for today," she said. "Let's take off your pants and trainers. Your boy underwear needs to come off too." Despite the unfamiliar long nails, I quickly obediently stripped off my loose trainers and socks sitting down but stood briefly to remove my joggers and underwear. I covered my privates with my hand. "Don't worry I've seen it all before," she laughed. She then handed me the padded underwear and explained how to put it on. It was heavily elasticated and had extra foam padding slots for the hips. I stood up and pulled the underwear up over my hips and noticed immediately that I had a much wider and curvier butt. "Panty hose are next," she said handing me the black pantyhose already removed from the packet and rolled up. "Put one foot in and then the other. Pull them up carefully as they can run especially if they get caught on your new fingernails." I pulled them up and they were really quite tight from the middle of my thighs up to my waist. "These are shape wear tights and should pull in your stomach a bit more than normal pantyhose," she added removing the label from the skirt. She unzipped it and handed it to me. I stood into it and pulled it up easily over my now wider hips. Instead of buttoning in front, it buttoned and hooked up at the back, I was informed. She helped me do it up and then pulled up the zip. It was a good fit too I was assured. "You have a really nice tush now," said Marcy patting my padded rear through the skirt. I turned to face her and she beamed. "You know what comes next don't you?" "Shoes?" I guessed correctly as she nodded with a big smile on her face. She cruelly handed me the heels she'd worn the day before when she'd hurt her ankle. "Hey those are your stupid shoes!" I said. "I can't and won't wear those instruments of torture!" "Yes, but now they're all yours to wear. You're a very lucky grid girl." she replied sarcastically. "You can keep them!" I replied. "I don't want to wear them! Those are what got me into this stupid fucking predicament in the first place!" "Well I hate to tell you but they're going to be part of your outfit on Sunday," she said seemingly unconcerned at my anger and unhappiness. So very reluctantly, I once again gave up against her and dejectedly sat down again. I carefully put the heels on each foot and was suddenly alarmed. "God it seems they actually fit me," I exclaimed however, I could see the dramatic deformation in my feet. "Yes, it seems we've the same size feet," she agreed. "Try standing up in them and tell me what you think." So quite gingerly I stood up and the first thing I noticed was the extreme pressure on my toes and the ball of my foot while realising suddenly how much taller I was. Standing unsteadily I said, "I think my first feeling is complete awe at you for actually wanting to wear these. My second is how the hell do I actually walk in them?" "Well slowly lift a foot and put the heel down first then followed by the sole. Then repeat, remember heel toe, heel toe and not the whole foot at the same time. Try it." So, I duly did and managed to slowly walk the whole length of the awning and back before gratefully sitting down in a heap beside her. "My feet are on fucking fire," I exclaimed wanting to rub and massage them. "Yes these shoes hurt," she said unsympathetically. "You'll get used to them though. You've got two days to break your feet into wearing them." I groaned surely it should be the other way round and the shoes would be broken rather than my feet. "That's us all done for now," she said smiling. "For now?" I queried. "You mean there's more?" "Just that French polish style on your nails and maybe some toenail polish really," she explained and before I could query why I needed my toenails painted when I was wearing shoes that wouldn't show my toenails she added. "Sit still a second while I take your photo for the grid pass," she ordered lining me up on her smart phone. I saw the flash go off and I blinked fluttering my eyelashes. "That's no good so I'll take another," she said looking at her phone. "Try and keep your eyes open this time." I did but then she wanted another and then another until she was satisfied I was smiling naturally and not using a forced expression. She took a few more of me sitting with my legs crossed wearing the heels in the tight skirt. "There what do you think Lara?" she asked showing me her phone. "Lara?" I asked flicking through them and cursing my nails as they tapped the phone screen. "Well there's not really any Larry left now is there?" she asked. "No I guess not," I agreed reluctantly. "So you'll be Lara Tulloch then in the pass application." At that point, as if on cue and before I could protest at my new name, the guys walked in and all hell then seemed to break loose. "Wow!" said Joe grabbing my hand and pulling me up onto my high-heeled feet. "Can I have the next dance?" "What a hot chick!" said Eddie as I was twirled around against my will by Joe. Brent came over and grabbed me by the arms to give me a warm hug, "I really appreciate this effort from you Larry." However, Marcy corrected him, "It's Lara now Brent or will be until after the races on Sunday." "I'm not effing well dressing like this until Sunday!" I protested defiantly. "Well you still have some way to go yet," she told me sweetly. "You have to learn to walk and to talk like a girl and it'll help you if you're staying in character." It was as if she were some expert. I felt like telling the lot of them to leave me the hell alone and that I was leaving them to their mad scheme but realised I couldn't get back home that easily from where we were. Eddie then surprised me by suddenly picking up all my old clothes and shoes, and began to stuff them into a black bin bag. One surprise was that he rarely tidied up any mess and two he was eagerly bagging up my things so that seemed strange bordering on crazy. "Hey bring those back!" I demanded. "That stuff is mine!" "Yes but you won't need them now though," he replied, "Will you?" Then he eagerly carried the bag to the back of the truck to put it in a cupboard despite all my many protests. I wasn't in much position to stop him as I was still wearing Marcy's killer heels which at that stage made the previously simple act of walking really difficult. At the same time, Brent had disappeared into the truck and emerged with a large bottle of champagne from the fridge that he'd won in a race earlier in the season. "I think it's time we celebrated the emergence of Lara as our newest team member," he announced happily popping the cork and dispensing the frothy liquid into 5 plastic cups instead of glasses. "Here, here," re-joined Eddie returning and then eagerly taking his drink. Brent handed Marcy her drink and congratulated her on her conversion efforts. "He's a natural. He not only looks like a girl, he's really gorgeous." My ears picked up at the words 'girl' and 'gorgeous'. "Well I hope none of you three guys fancy your chances with me," I replied clenching a fist in a display of macho bravado. However, Eddie sarcastically commented, "with fingernails that long you'd be better trying to scratch our eyes out." Brent handed me my drink and I gratefully sat down on the chair again to ease the intense pressure and pain on my feet. I crossed my legs and decided that I quite liked the feel of the sheer pantyhose on my legs as they rubbed together. "Don't worry Lara we'll all be perfect gentlemen towards you. So don't worry. Won't we guys?" asked Brent of the others. Joe and Eddie both dutifully responded with "Sure." and, "Right Brent." I cautiously sipped at my champagne and it seemed to fortify my courage. I decided that if I was going to make this huge sacrifice for the team, then someone else should make a sacrifice too. "Well since I'm no longer going to be Larry this weekend, we'll have to make some changes and the first is that I'll be sleeping in the bunk at the front of the truck," I announced and then I saw Brent's jaw drop. "Hey but that's my bunk!" Brent replied knowing that it was the most comfortable of all the sleeping places we had. "It was your bunk," I replied confidently, "But you can't really expect a girl to sleep in the back of the truck in a sleeping bag with your mechanics, the bikes, fuel, oil and spares now can you?" "Lara has a very valid point," laughed Marcy in welcome support. "Besides she'll be good company and look after me with my ankle." I wondered what Marcy had meant by using the pronoun 'she' for me but instead I shucked off the high heels and then picked them up. Then just in my pantyhose, I went and retrieved my sleeping bag and toiletry bag from the back of the truck. I smiled as I waltzed to the front with all four of them watching me move. I wiggled my ass a little more, as I moved up the steps of the truck. The boys then dutifully helped Marcy inside and helped to her bunk. She advised me how I should get ready for bed and she even gave me one of her baby doll nightdresses. She had me remove my makeup, cleanse my face and we both spent time chatting about what I would do the next day. We could hear the guys talking in the back of the truck about me from time to time. "I was thinking you could wear the wedge heel sandals and a pair of my stretch jeans for tomorrow," said Marcy generously. "Those will be much more comfortable than the heels but will get you more used to walking in heels and the jeans won't be that much different to what you were wearing earlier today." "Will the jeans fit me?" I asked. "That should do. They might be a little snug though around the crotch area but we are much the same size and with your new padded rear they'll stretch easier to cover it," she said. "I'm exhausted," I said. "I never knew being a girl could be so tiring." "You don't know the half of it yet," she laughed in reply. We could hear the guys talking and laughing in their bunks in the back of the truck but I could hear clearly what they were saying. "They seem to be very excited about all this," I said but she was already asleep. Since she was still in pain, I decided I would just let her be and was about to quickly follow her into the land of nod. However, while Marcy slept, the guys carried on talking in the back of the truck and I could hear their every word. "Well I must say Larry looks really good dressed as a chick," laughed Eddie. While Joe affirmed, "We should keep him dressed up like that on the way home on Sunday too. God knows what his Mum would think if he walked in all dolled up like that." "Yeah that would be funny," agreed Brent. "It's probably not a good idea to upset Larry too much though as he's always been an important member of the team. We need to keep him sweet." "Well he certainly looks sweet now," joked Eddie. Joe though asked Brent, "Yes so how will we keep him sweet?" "Well I was thinking we ought to get him something for doing this," said Brent. "I mean it's not every day a mate gives up his masculinity to help us out, now is it?" "True," said Joe. "I know I would have told Marcy to fuck right off. So what did you have in mind?" "I know you'd have done that Joe," laughed Brent. "You would have looked like a prop forward in a dress on Sunday though." They all laughed. "That's very true," admitted Joe. "I was thinking that we should treat Larry to dinner on the way home or sometime next week," said Brent. They all agreed that would be a good reward. "I just hope he can stay with it until Sunday," said Eddie. "He has got a lot of a guts and I think we should see what tomorrow brings. Shall we?" asked Eddie. Joe was already asleep but Brent grunted a "yes." I dozed off too. Chapter 3 -Day 3 - Saturday. The next morning before Marcy used her considerable artistry skills to do my makeup again, I eagerly prepared breakfast for everyone. For me and Marcy it was low fat milk and cereal while the guys went to work on their usual fried free range eggs, bacon, toast, tomatoes and a big cup of steaming tea to wash it all down with. For some reason I honestly felt ill cooking that fried breakfast and then watching them eat it. It was making me want to heave up my recently consumed cornflakes. "I don't understand it," I said to Marcy. "Yesterday I could have eaten the same as them but today I can't stand the sight of all that man food." "Well maybe you're turning into a girl after all Lara?" she asked smiling. "It can hardly be that can it? I've still got my meat and two veg remember," I said pointing at my now flat smooth crotch to remind her. "Well maybe your mind set is changing somehow," she suggested. I wasn't sure what she meant as she told me to sit down so she could quickly reapply the eye makeup again with the false eyelashes, eyeliner and lots of mascara. She then handed me the mascara tube and showed me how to apply more to my lashes without poking my eyes out. Anyway, as the first timed practice for the Superbike class was called over the public address system, I was really quite apprehensive as I headed out into the paddock for the first time dressed as Lara. I walked up towards the pit lane dressed in Marcy's stretch jeans, the wedge sandals, pantyhose, bra, her team T-shirt and the warm team paddock jacket and a small shoulder bag she'd given me. Fortunately, my usual pit lane pass didn't have a photograph on it and I was able to take up my usual position just after the start line with Brent's signal board. I could see the lap times on the monitor but I also liked to use the stop watches just to confirm the times. It turned out that it was quite easy to operate the watches considering my long nails. They definitely made my hands look elegant, long and slim. It was still a bit disconcerting though seeing them so stupidly long. So with stop watches in hand, I'd shout the times to Joe who put out the pit signalling board to give Brent his time signals. They told him what his lap time had been on the previous lap and so he'd know by how much he needed to go faster and also his provisional grid position. We'd get a nod or a small wave from him each time as he went past at top speed to acknowledge that he'd seen the board signal. After around exactly 20 laps he finally came into pit lane and stopped opposite us. So getting down off the pit wall carefully using the handrails, I went over to show him my written timesheet as usual except that this time I looked like a girl. He took off his gloves and but left his helmet on before he took the sheet from me. He nodded and seemed content with his lap times as he studied the sheet. Brent pointed to the screen above him that said he was still currently the third fastest privateer rider but just seventeenth on the provisional timings. He was also just 1.5 seconds off the fastest time too which was amazing considering his budget was just a tiny fraction of the works teams. "It looks as I expected Larry," he shouted out over the sounds of the other racing engines nearby blissfully ignoring how I currently looked. "I'll just do a few more laps to try and go a little bit quicker. While the works teams had data loggers that showed the rider where he could go faster, Brent relied on his gut instinct on where he could shave off more fractions of a second. "Not so loud Brent!" However, I had to shout loudly at the side of his helmet so he could hear me. Unfortunately, someone else overheard us. Eddie pointing to the front tyre chipped in, "his tyres look good enough for a few more laps." I left them to return to my position on the pit lane wall and easily hurried over the busy pit lane despite the wedge heels. I was used to avoiding bikes moving down pit lane to carry out my timing duties but I wasn't used to running in these stupid shoes Marcy had insisted that I should wear. As I reached the wall I was suddenly intercepted by Ian Wilson, the mechanic I'd met at the burger van a few nights earlier. "I do love the new disguise Larry," Ian laughed. "You do make a very cute girl." "It's not a disguise," I replied panicking at being found out so soon. Then searching for a suitable excuse I shocked both him and myself by blurting out, "I've decided to come out as transgendered this weekend." Just why I said that I don't really know, but it seemed to make more sense than to say I was the only option for the team's brolly dolly on race day and I'd been coerced into it by Marcy. For some reason it made more sense to say I was doing it voluntarily and with a good reason. "Oh you have?" he shouted back over the noise of a bike revving up in the pit lane next to him, "Well you do make a very convincing and pretty girl. I sincerely hope it all goes well for you." He did sound sincere enough. "Thanks," I replied looking at Brent riding away down the pit lane and then entering back onto the track. "I'd like to get to know you better so how about going for a drink in the circuit bar later then?" he asked raising his voice but his offer of going out for a drink with him completely surprised me. "I'll need to think about that," I said wishing he would just go away and leave me in peace. "There's no need to shout. My name's Lara now by the way." I decided after I got back into my position on the wall that I'd just ignore his invitation to a drink later and just get on with my job of team timekeeper but he persisted. "I'll drop by your truck at around 7:30 tonight then." "Like I said I'll need to think about it. I'm very busy right now," I replied again turning back to face the track in time to see Brent about to start his next flying timed lap. Fortunately, Ian left and I was able to fully concentrate on the timing. Now and again, I'd check where Ian was and invariably found him staring over in my direction. Within three laps, Brent hadn't managed to improve on his previous best time and was slowly heading back down pit lane. He made his way slowly back to the paddock gate entrance to indicate he wasn't going out again and where Eddie was waiting to receive him. Joe picked up the pit board and my hand written timesheets while I then went to race control to get the official timing sheet as usual. As I went, I was conscious of the stares I received from the men as I passed by. It was weird that before becoming Lara no one ever stared at me but now I was being ogled at continually. On the way, I was passed by Ian who rushed past in his more sensible shoes to get the timing sheet for his team. I cursed the wedge sandals again that Marcy had insisted I wear, as my virtually bare feet were also now feeling quite cold and almost numb. It was a few more minutes before the official timing sheets were dumped into the box near race control so I could grab one along with the thirty other people clamouring around. At first, I struggled to pick up the sheet of paper because of my long nails. Then somehow I managed to pick up four sheets and had to put three back. As I walked back to our truck, I studied the sheet and saw that Brent was listed as just 18th and so would only start on the sixth row of the grid if he held that place for timed qualifying later. I hurried back as fast as my restrictive footwear would let me to show them the official timing. As I made my way through the crowded paddock, I came across the first obstacle as riders for the next class to practice were waiting patiently with their machines to get into pit lane. I had to make a huge detour around them and as I did, one mechanic gave me a wolf whistle and a smile. I smiled back but carried on walking past them as quickly as I could in those wedges. However unexpectedly he ran after me and asked me, "Are you going to the circuit bar tonight?" "I... I'm not sure why?" I asked surprised and somewhat breathlessly in answer. "It's just that I'd really like to buy a babe like you a drink," he said earnestly. "Thanks," I smiled in two minds about being called a babe and then gave him my now standard reply. "I'll think about it!" "See you later then babe," he said not put off as he walked back towards his rider smirking. "Not if I can help it," I muttered under my breath. I was shocked though that he thought I was pretty enough to ask out, while at the same time it seemed incredible that I wasn't being recognised. I headed on back to Marcy and the guys with a bit more confidence about Sunday. When I eventually got back to the team truck and entered the awning, I arrived just a little after the guys despite them having started well before me. They'd been held up waiting for support vehicles to move out of the way inside the very crowded paddock internal roads. "Well you should have taken the pit garage that was offered to you," moaned Eddie. "It's nicer here but it means more work lugging stuff to and from the pit lane," complained Joe. "How did it go?" asked Marcy suddenly looking up from her hairdressing magazine at me. "It went OK, Brent's just eighteenth on the grid though," I replied handing her the timing results. "No silly I meant with you," she asked. "Well I've just been asked out on dates tonight by two mechanics," I replied honestly and I could see the shock on her face. "One already knows what I am or who I was and he still said he'd call round for me at 7:30 tonight. While the other said he'd meet me in the circuit pub tonight even though I told him I'd just think about it." "Oh my God," she said. "You must have made a huge impression on them. What will you do?" "Needless to say I won't be going anywhere near the circuit pub tonight," I replied getting into the truck cab and starting to prepare lunch with another of my famous pasta dishes. "I don't know though, you might actually enjoy it," laughed Marcy sitting on her comfortable chair. "Yes and pigs might fly," I replied out of the doorway. "We'll see," she said sticking her tongue out. "I think you should go out with one of them." "How's your ankle? Is it any better?" I asked ignoring her comment and hoping she would say yes that it was much better. "It's a little bit better but it's not enough for me to take over your duties on the grid tomorrow," she replied. "If that's what you're thinking." "Pity," I muttered inwardly to myself in case she heard. Marcy wasted no time in telling the guys that I'd been chatted up twice much to my annoyance and that one was actually calling round later to take me out. It didn't take me very long to get lunch ready and I served it out to everyone except Brent who said he wasn't feeling very hungry though I did leave him a full plate at the table. He did eventually eat a few mouthfuls of pasta but his appetite had just vanished he said. "Come on eat," I said. "You're just like a woman," he said to me. "Always fussing." "I might look like a woman but I'm definitely not one," I replied picking up his still full plate along with the others that were scraped clean. "Well that was good tucker," said Eddie simply after wolfing down all his food. He went back outside to get the wheels off the bike, as they needed new tyres. He then took the wheels to get new slick tyres fitted while Joe again checked all the bike's fluid levels were correct. Brent decided to move a chair outside and just sat out in the now warm sunshine with his usual dark sunglasses on shielding his closed eyes listening to his music. Marcy was sitting as usual beside the table with her face peering at her phone as I finally sat down with all the dishes cleaned. She looked up and smiled at me. "So who is the guy calling round tonight?" She asked curiously. "Well do you remember the mechanic we met at the burger van the night you fell?" I asked. "Oh yes Ian. Is it him?" "Yes him. He's saw through my disguise in the pit lane and he wondered why I was suddenly dressing to look like a girl." "So what did you tell him?" she asked now taking a very keen interest. "What could I tell him?" I replied. "I think though I might have blurted out that I was trans.... gendered. I couldn't very well tell him the truth." "Oh you didn't?" She asked. "And do you think you might be trans?" "Well I couldn't very well tell him the real reason now could I? It seemed the only sensible explanation," I said then I added. "When I started all this I would have said definitely no but now I'm really confused about this whole situation. I don't really know what I feel." "Well why don't you know?" she probed. "For one thing all this gender change stuff is very confusing. In addition, the way people treat me has completely changed. Even the guys here treat me differently and I'm definitely not seen as one of them now." "Yes I can see that's true," she said. "Is there anything else?" "Well to be honest it's been weird receiving the attention I've been getting," I replied truthfully. "I mean I can feel eyes watching and looking at me more now when I'm Lara. When I was Larry I was almost anonymous." "That's certainly a big part of being a pretty girl," she agreed. "That's why we look after ourselves so much more than guys. Is there anything you don't like?" "Yes I hate having to wear these ridiculous and stupid breast forms with this bra," I replied. "I mean this bra is so damned uncomfortable to wear. The straps are so thin that they cut into my shoulders and there is this constant pressure of the forms on my chest. I also have to keep my back much straighter and that just seems to make my tits stick out even more than I'd like." "Oh you'll get used to it," she said without much sympathy. "I'd offer you one of my sports bras with the wide straps but they probably wouldn't fit you." "That's a pity as these underwire cups dig in too," I said massaging my ribs and shoulders. "How about the shoes? Do you think you can manage those stilettos tomorrow?" She asked apparently showing me some concern. "To be honest no I don't think I can manage them and they do make me look like a hooker," I replied. "There's no question that they're sexy shoes but they're just not practical." "Yes I suppose it's all about attention seeking I suppose," she replied. "I'm very conscious of men looking at me whenever I wear shoes like them." "Apart from the sheer physical pain of them perhaps that's why I'm so uncomfortable in them so far. I don't really want people to stare at me like I'm a hooker if I'm being honest." "I don't suppose you would be," she replied. "Why don't you wear them for a few minutes now to ease into them a little bit before tomorrow? Just sit here with them on. When qualifying starts later you can put your wedges on again." "Thanks," I said and reluctantly went to get her heels. I sat down and put them on. I immediately felt the compression in my toes and the ball of my foot even though I wasn't standing in them. "Feet were never designed to wear shoes like these," I exclaimed. "Especially my feet." "They do make your legs so much better," she said pointing to my now stretched calf muscles. She then showed me her phone and I saw she was buying another pair of heels in a similar style to the pair I was wearing but in matt black. "These are the next pair I've just ordered." "Well I hope you give your ankle a chance to heal properly before you wear those," I cautioned sensibly. "I won't get them for another week or so, so I should be ok by then." At that point, Eddie returned with the two bike wheels now shod with two soft compound slick tyres and sat down beside us. "Well girls, you'll be glad to know I just bumped into Ian Wilson again at the tyre fitting area and he told me he's calling round at 7:30 tonight to take you out Lara," he said looking in my direction. "In his dreams," I said. "I won't be going anywhere tonight looking like this." "Well he says that he's really looking forward to getting to know you better," continued Eddie as though he hadn't heard a word I'd said. "He did? Well I'm bloody well not!" I replied angrily. "Yes he said that you told him you were transgendered when you spoke earlier in the pit lane and he said the last person he'd taken out who was transgendered was his cousin who'd gone the whole way," Eddie replied. "The whole way?" I queried. "You know a full blown sex change operation, facial feminisation surgery and even silicone breast implants," said Eddie. "Oh really, I never knew that," interrupted Marcy. "He also told me that his cousin had sadly just died of cancer after only 10 years living as a complete female but that she was really lovely outside and in," continued Eddie. "He showed me her picture and I had to agree she was gorgeous." "Well perhaps having a good looking transsexual cousin probably explains his crazy interest in me?" I asked. "It might do," Eddie admitted. "He did say that he thought you looked really attractive as a girl and that he was keen to give you any help and advice you might need on your journey to becoming a woman." "My journey?" I asked shaking my head in complete disbelief. "The only journey I'm hoping to make is the one tomorrow night going home." "He also told me that he thinks that in time you'll make a very attractive woman when you are all done," Eddie said. "I wonder how the hell he knows that!" I asked incredulously. "I've absolutely no intentions of getting to the stage when I'm all done like his cousin! I'm returning back to my old self immediately we leave here tomorrow night. Are we absolutely all clear on that?" "Yeah!" said Eddie just as Joe entered. However, Marcy remained silent. "I've just put the spare wet weather wheels on the bike for the trip up to pit lane," Joe said. "We'll swap them for the wheels with the new slicks when we get up there. I've put those in their tyre warmers in the meantime." "Excuse me please ladies," Eddie said getting up to work on prepping the race bike again. I clenched a mock fist at Eddie in reply and the two of them went outside knowing that their presence wasn't that welcome. When they'd finally left, Marcy asked me to go into her locker inside the truck and pull out the cardboard box that I'd find there. After I prudently slipped off her killer heels, I obeyed as I thought it was something she needed, as clearly she wasn't able to get it easily herself with her injured ankle. I retrieved the box and handed it to her when I returned. I sat down again and easily resisted putting on her shoes again. "Right we have some time to do your toenails before qualifying practice starts," she said taking out a bright red pot of nail polish from the box and the UV lamp that she'd used before. "Take off your pants and the pantyhose. Then give me your foot," she ordered pointing to her thigh. So very reluctantly, I put my bare left foot on her leg. She applied a generous coating of pinkish red polish to all my left foot toenails. Then she put the lamp over my toes and switched it on. "Right next foot," she commanded. She quickly did the same with the lamp on my right toes and then suddenly we heard the tannoy calling the superbike riders to the assembly area for qualifying practice. Thinking I could escape, I tried to get up but she told me to sit still as she found clear polish top coat and then applied that too to each toenail. Marcy admired her handiwork with my now luminous red toenails. "There now that wasn't so bad was it?" she asked. Before I could reply she continued. "Don't you think your toes look much prettier now?" She then wiped each of my nails with some nail polish remover. "How come there's no nail polish on the cotton wool as you rubbed them quite hard?" I asked. "Oh this polish can't come off easily. The gel polish is now bonded onto your own nails." "You're kidding me right?" I asked. "No it's a UV gel polish that I always use. I think it'll only start to come off in a couple of weeks or so," she said as though it wasn't a big deal. Well it wasn't a big deal for her but for me that was a whole different ball game. "But Marcy I don't need polish on my toe nails after tomorrow. With that stuff, I'll still have the polish on my toenails for a lot longer than necessary. I was going to go swimming on Monday night after work and I won't be able to do that with those red toenails showing." "Don't worry we'll easily get it off again," she said but not actually saying how she'd do it as I put on the relatively more comfortable wedge sandals again. Only now I had these red nails showing clearly through the straps of the sandals and my pantyhose. "I'd better get moving," I said reluctantly realising I didn't have time to get the polish off there and then. I stood up and grabbed all my timing stuff off the table again. As I poked my head out of the awning, I could see dark clouds looming from the west. "Shit. It looks like it'll be raining soon. I better go and get my rain jacket." "Use my team jacket instead," she suggested so I quickly grabbed it and walked as quickly as I could up to the pit lane entrance to catch up with the guys. When I met up with Brent, Eddie and Joe in pit lane a few minutes later, I quickly pointed out the dark clouds but they were already well aware of them. "You'll have to go fast right from the beginning of practice," advised Eddie. "If the track gets wet you'll have no chance to set a fast time." Brent nodded as he anxiously donned his full-face helmet. He flipped the visor down and then decided that his usual dark visor was going to be a big problem as the dark clouds floated across the sky. It was usually my job to change his visor because my hands were usually the cleanest and wouldn't smear the surface. Normally it wouldn't be a hard job with undoing a couple of screws, then replace the visor and tightening the screws up again. However, I just held my hands up and said, "Sorry I can't help you today with nails this long. You can thank your sister Marcy for that." "It's OK," said Brent impatiently. "I'll just do it myself." He quickly took off his helmet and gloves just as the pit lane lights turned green to indicate the beginning of practice. There was a huge loud roar of bikes down pit lane but instead of joining them Brent was busy swapping his helmet visor as Joe continued to operate the throttle and Eddie stood ready to remove the tyre warmers. As he changed the visor, Brent then took a brave decision and called on the boys to also change the wheels for full wet tyres. "But Brent it's not raining yet though," complained Eddie as Brent put his helmet back on. "You can smell the rain in the air," I said backing up Brent's decision. So the boys quickly swung into action as the rain was only a few seconds away from falling from the sky. Joe worked quickly and after the 30 seconds he took to change the back wheel, Eddie and Joe together got the front wheel replaced in another 25 seconds. "He's definitely not going to get in a quick lap now," said Joe gloomily. As the other riders started their first timed lap, Brent finally headed down pit lane for the track. "Damn!" said Eddie unhappily. "It looks already like we'll be at the back of the grid again tomorrow." However, I pointed over towards a heavy squall of rain heading down the valley towards us. "I don't think it'll matter and some of them have already fallen off at the first bend. See?" As I reached the pit lane wall to start timing Brent, the first surviving riders were already returning to the pit lane without completing their run, while Brent was discovering the now soaking wet track was just fine for his wet tyres. "I think they'll all struggle with slicks in the wet sections," admitted Eddie as heavy spots of rain started beating down on the tarmac in front of our pit lane position. "It was a good call by Brent to change the tyres." I smiled at them both as Brent started his first flying lap with the empty track now becoming increasingly wet and his bike kicking up lots of spray. "Good man!" shouted Joe as Brent went past. "Hopefully he can do a full lap before the rain really starts to fall." "It's definitely too wet for slicks now and even full wet tyres will maybe struggle," I said watching another heavy rain shower deluge the track on the main straight. "Maybe this is going to work out well after all." A few brave or was it stupid riders decided to do another lap on slick tyres and some had either crashed or had lapped nearly thirty seconds off the dry weather pace. Brent was wasting no time on his first flying lap. There were now huge sprays of water coming from the back wheels of the bikes going past me. "Brent always goes well in the rain," I said. "Maybe this will be his day?" Just over 90 seconds later, Brent was exiting the final bend and as I looked at the computer screen above us as he crossed the line, he suddenly shot up to third place on the screen. All the other top riders still had to set a time or had posted a miserable one on dry weather slick tyres. That is except for Aoki the Japanese works Honda rider who'd been lucky enough to be the only one to post a decent dry lap time on what had been a special pair of cut slicks. However, we knew that he was now out of the running as he'd fallen on his second timed lap after even his tyres had given up the unequal struggle with the soaking wet track. Brent finished his first lap some 3 seconds slower than Aoki but he was less than half a second behind the second placed Suzuki rider Alex Murray whose mechanic just happened to be Ian Wilson. Over the next few laps, the rain never eased off and on the still wet track; Brent started to find his groove and slowly started to pull in the gap towards Murray. By the end of his tenth, timed lap it became clear Brent was never going to improve on third place as the track just got wetter and wetter. However, third would mean a start on the front row of the grid for the first time at this level of racing. We were all urging him on but his third place looked very secure and it would still be an excellent result for such a small team. When the chequered flag was finally waved after 45 minutes to end the session, Brent was just a fifth of a second behind Murray on the timing screen with a lot of the top riders' still way down the grid. After he came into the pits, Brent was quickly ushered off to give a television interview following his third place and a first ever front row grid start. I went with him, and held his helmet and gloves as he spoke about the weather and how the sudden decision to delay changing his visor had actually helped. He remembered to thank his sponsors and his small loyal band of helpers, which was nice. "My team is slightly smaller this weekend and it's been made even smaller following an ankle sprain to my big sister," he then said. "So I'd like to dedicate this result to Marcy and to her enthusiastic replacement Lara. Lastly thanks to my hard working and long suffering mechanics Joe and Eddie. They changed the wheels to full wet tyres in seconds when it mattered most." Thankfully, I was too far away for the camera to turn its attention on me as they then interviewed Alex Murray. I ran off to grab a couple of timing sheets from the box near race control and then we all walked back to our truck at the other end of the paddock with me holding up my brolly. We were constantly interrupted enroute by people congratulating Brent on his wonderful practice result. In the end, he was using the same story repeatedly, saying how lucky he'd been not to get caught in the first sudden squalls of rain. When we eventually got back to the truck, we saw that Eddie and Joe had already removed the wheels on the bike and it was just sitting there on its stand supports. "We reckon you can use those wet tyres again," said Eddie. "The tread is still good do you see?" "Yes I see," said Brent. "They might come in handy for a wet practice session but if it rains tomorrow I want to fit brand new wet tyres on the bike. Hang the expense, that third place felt brilliant today." Meanwhile I'd gone over to Marcy to give her a copy of the official practice sheet. "Well done!" cried Marcy when she examined the timing sheet I'd given her. "I'm so proud of you." "Thanks," said Brent going towards her and giving her a gentle hug. "How's your ankle?" She shrugged and just replied, "Just the bloody same!" It was unanimously agreed that there should be some kind of celebration that night as qualifying on the front row of the grid didn't happen every day for the team. "It's the first time I've managed a front row start since my clubman days," admitted Brent taking off his now soaking wet, racing leather suit. "That rain was a great leveller. All those mega powerful works bikes and they couldn't use their extra power in the wet whereas I was able to use all my engine performance." Marcy was happy for her brother but had some unexpected news for me. "Lara there's to be a photo shoot tomorrow morning for all the grid girls according to the organisers." "When?" I asked. "Just before the first race and you'll be expected to attend." "Seriously?" I groaned. "Yeah seriously," she replied. "I've done one before and they've decided that another was now long overdue." "What will I need to do?" I sighed not liking the sound of being thrust into the limelight or the glare of all those photographers pushing for photos. I obviously knew some of them from other race weekends and I'd seen them take risqu? pictures of the grid girls in all kinds of sexy poses before. "Oh they'll probably line you all up on the front row of the race grid with the umbrellas," she said. "Last time they had us put our right legs forward and up in the air while balancing on the other foot. It's not that easy while wearing spike heels!" I groaned my displeasure in reply. "Don't worry Lara, I'll make you look the prettiest in the line-up. You'll need to be as each girl is photographed individually too. Before I forget someone from race control dropped in with your new grid pass, which shows your photograph and your new name. You officially go by the name Lara Tulloch now as far as this place is concerned." With that comment, she handed me the grid pass that had a cord attached so I could wear it around my neck. I examined it closely and could see I did indeed have a grid pass with the name Lara in bold lettering. That was something I'd never had before as usually only Marcy, Joe and Eddie were required on the grid. Usually I had to get set up on the pit lane wall with Brent's signal board and my stopwatches. About 30 minutes later, Brent returned from a quick shower in his jogging pants and sweatshirt still beaming over his practice time result. "We'll need to go to the pub tonight and have a few celebratory drinks," he repeated. "You can count me out," said Marcy pointing to her ankle. "I'll bring you a bottle of something nice back here then," he announced generously. "Don't bother. Just don't drink too much because remember you're racing tomorrow and they do random drug and alcohol testing now." She cautioned. "Don't worry Sis, I'll just have a couple of pints of bitter," he said. "You can keep an eye on Lara too," she advised. "Me? I'm not going," I replied indignantly. "Yes you. I assume you'll be going to the pub too with your new boyfriend," she replied sarcastically. "I already said I'm not going out with him though," I announced, as I just wanted to stay incognito before my big day. "I wouldn't count on that if I were you," said Eddie. "I just saw Ian again and he said he'll drop by soon. It seems he wants to take you out to dinner at a local restaurant." "Oh God no not that!" I moaned. "In that case we'd better get you ready," said Marcy suddenly perked up and all enthused again. "Go to my wardrobe and take out the leather skirt you'll find hanging up, pick out a black cotton top and bring the knee high spike heel boots too." "Oh do I have to?" I asked unhappily. "Yes you have to. Besides, it'll be good practice for you getting ready tomorrow. Now hurry chop, chop," she ordered clapping her hands. So I reluctantly got up and rummaged about in her wardrobe inside the truck. "I've found the skirt!" I shouted out to her. "Ok get some new pantyhose from my drawer and put them on. There is a packet marked black 20 denier. See them?" "Yes I see them," I replied. I sat down inside the truck and started to remove her pants and blouse. Then I started to ball up the legs of the pantyhose and slipped them on over my feet still annoyed at my polished toenails glistening back at me. "I just can't believe I'm doing this." I shouted out but she either didn't hear me or ignored the comment. With the pantyhose pulled up over the padded hips of my underwear I stood into the leather skirt and pulled that up. "The skirt fits perfectly," I shouted again. "I knew it would," she cried back hearing me this time. I found the top hanging up and easily slipped that on too. I was shocked to see that it exposed a lot of my false cleavage. A false but very realistic looking cleavage. "My boobs are going to be on show with this top!" "Good. Make sure you wear the wide belt in the drawer. Come out when you get done." "Where are your boots?" I asked. "Look in the plastic storage box under my bunk," she replied. I lifted up the mattress and quickly found them. They had a zip on the inside so that undone I pulled them on easily enough and zipped them up. At least the block heel they had seemed more sensible despite them being 3" high. When I stood up there was a dramatic transformation in my posture. Instead of flatfooted Larry, my ass stuck out and so did my false breasts as I held onto the table to get my balance. "When you're done, I'll do your makeup so bring out my makeup box!" She ordered. "I'm just coming," I replied taking the box from her bed and carrying it out. It was a large professional case full of cosmetics. Before long she was busy painting my eyes again and I was beginning to look sultry with long eyelashes, black eyeliner and dark sparkly eye shadow. I also wore a fruity dark red lipstick. "You look like you're going on a proper date now," she said finally putting the cosmetics away. "Doesn't he just," laughed Joe looking at Marcy after she'd sprayed my face with sealer to fix my makeup. "Joe he's a she now," admonished Marcy. After Marcy had helped me get ready for my date despite my numerous protests that I really didn't want to go, she put it into a different perspective for me. "I was thinking that if you don't go out with him he might spread it about the paddock that you're transgendered or a phoney in a stupid act of revenge," she explained. "At least this way if you go out with him he's going to be more likely to keep your secret and you'll still be on the grid tomorrow. He really could fuck it all up for us if you don't go." "What's to stop him doing that anyway after our date?" I asked. "Nothing but I think he'll probably be less likely to spread it around that he dated a tranny if you do go out with him. That wouldn't do him any good whatsoever." I finally saw her point albeit a bit reluctantly. I wasn't very happy or comfortable with the prospect of dating another man as I saw it. I really didn't want to go out with him and really just wanted to stay close to Marcy that night. However, as I got ready for this date with Ian, I made it quite clear that the whole idea was just absurd. I really had no idea what to do or how to act or what was expected of me. "I don't want to do this!" I complained bitterly. "I really don't feel comfortable about it!" Marcy then shouted on Brent who came in quickly thinking she was still in pain. What's up?" He asked. "Lara doesn't want to go on the date tonight," explained Marcy. "Does she have to do it?" "No, she doesn't have to do it but it could be really useful to us if she did," replied Brent using the correct pronouns for my appearance. "Why would it?" I asked. "I think you might be able to get him to talk about his team and their bike setup," he replied. "I doubt he'll talk shop on a date Brent," Marcy added. "You never know what he'll talk about," cautioned Marcy to me. "Just try to relax and you'll be back here in no time." So, when Ian finally arrived at our camp a few moments later, I was still feeling mortified. I really didn't want to go out with him but there seemed no way out of it with everyone now forcing the issue. I was to find out though that he was actually quite charming as he took my hand and helped me down onto the ground from the truck cabin. He also handed me a small bunch of flowers that he'd obviously bought at the circuit petrol station. "These are for you," he said shyly. I handed the flowers to Brent who then passed them onto Marcy who said she'd put them in water for me. She in turn passed me a small clutch bag containing various things, I'd need. So, carrying it in my left hand and being led by Ian with my right we headed over to his small van that we would use to go to dinner. He expertly drove right out of the circuit seeing a gap in the long line of traffic. His first opening line was, "I'm sorry it's not my usual car which is a BMW M5 instead of this tatty old van but I've given it a good spring clean inside as you can see." I nodded nervously. "It smells clean anyway. So where are we going?" "Oh we'll go to a little village pub which serves great food that I know on the other side of the M1 motorway. It's not very far from here so we'll have lots of time to get to know each other better," he admitted. "Why?" I asked. "Why what?" he replied. "Why do you want to know me better?" "I'm quite curious to know your reasons for transitioning," he replied. "I've known a few transgender women and they all had different but very interesting reasons for making the biggest change in their lives." "For me it's quite complicated," I answered. I didn't want to tell him that it was all a big lie just so I could stand on the grid holding the brolly over Brent the next day. "I can imagine," he said calmly and understandingly. "It always is isn't it?" After some thought he continued, "I admire your courage for what you are doing. It can't have been easy to decide to transition. I've always felt a bit wrong myself but looking as I do, I doubt I could handle it so easily like you could so I always thought it was best to stay just as I am." I saw what he meant, as he wasn't small built like me. "Oh, I see," I replied. "So, what you're telling me is that deep down you're really transgendered too." "Yes, for as long as I can remember," he honestly admitted. Instead of being scared that he wanted to try and get inside my panties it seemed as if he'd probably just want to wear them instead. After his revelation, I then started to relax a good bit and when we reached the restaurant, the only issue I had was that I started to feel anxious about being seen out in public again dressed as Lara. After a frightening moment walking into the restaurant, we were shown into a dark corner with just us sitting at a table for two. As we ate, he regaled me with all his frustrations and feelings about his dysphoria since his younger days. He told me how much he envied my ability to look natural and that was due to my small stature while he was very tall and muscular. With that revelation from Ian, I relaxed even more. In fact, he was good company and telling me how lucky I was to be so petite and that I'd be able to transition very easily in his opinion. I was actually quite flattered by his compliments but at the same time, I was shocked that he felt that I was already a suitable candidate for gender change surgery despite just a few days dressed as a girl. Also he wouldn't know the real reason was just to get Brent's team out of a temporary problem because of Marcy's accident. After the delightful dinner and on the drive back he said he'd give me the name of a good gender specialist he knew who lived near to my home town. Of course I thanked him and said that might be useful but inside, I knew I did not intend to take it any further with any specialists. I decided that it had been a nice evening after all despite my previous misgivings. When we arrived back at the circuit, I thanked him for the evening and the meal. It was only after we'd arrived back that it had dawned on me that he'd paid for it all. There was an upside after all to being a girl I decided. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of dinner after so often being the one to spend money on a date. Not that I'd had many dates with girls of course. "Thanks for a lovely evening Lara," said Ian who then walked me back over to the team truck. "Well thank you for dinner. It's nice to know that there are others who feel the same way I do," I replied. He gave me a hug at the door to the awning. "The big difference is that you'll be able to do something about it and go on to become an attractive woman while really that isn't going to be possible for me." With that, he hugged me again and bid me goodnight. Despite the late hour, Marcy was still wide awake when I got into the truck cabin again. "How did it go?" she asked with great curiosity. "Sorry to disappoint you Marcy it didn't really go. I found out that Ian is actually a frustrated transgendered person himself. He took me out tonight but not really to have a date but to give me some moral support." "Oh did he really? That was very sweet of him," she replied. "I'd never have thought of him being like that. He used to race himself until a couple of seasons ago." "Yes he was telling me that he was really envious of my small size and that after proper hormone treatment he felt sure that I'd be able to pass as a woman without any problem. Without them he already thinks I'm very passable. Of course I didn't have the heart to tell him the real reason for me being like this," I replied sitting down and easing the pain in my feet as I started to remove Marcy's boots. "Yes it's probably best to let him think the way he wants," replied Marcy. "I'm glad it wasn't too stressful a night for you." "Not stressful but my feet are in absolute agony with these boots," I complained rubbing them. "Oh stop moaning. You'd soon get used to them if you were to wear them more," she replied unsympathetically. "Not if I can help it," I said peeling the pantyhose off my shaved legs. She handed me a box of makeup remover pads as I started to peel off my false eyelashes. After taking them off I put them in a small box and started to wipe the war paint off my face. Both sides of the pad were black with make-up by the time I'd finished, so I took a fresh pad and wiped my face again to get the last traces of makeup off my face. She handed me a pair of her warm pyjamas and I gratefully slipped under the duvet on my bunk that was now mine for the weekend. I fell asleep listening to bikes being briefly started, revellers emerging from the circuit pub and someone snoring in the back of our truck which was probably Eddie. Chapter 4 Day 4 - Sunday Race 1 I slept soundly that night and was woken by a knock at the cabin door and Brent poked his head inside. "Rise and shine girls. The team would like their breakfast if it's not too much trouble." I got up annoyed at his reference to me as a girl after he closed the door. I slipped on a pair of Marcy's stretch leggings, a bra and the team T shirt that she'd picked out for me. I fired up the frying pan on the cooker, cracked open six free range eggs and opened a packet of smoked bacon I found in the fridge. After I got the kettle boiling, I made three steaming mugs of tea to give them all a quick pick me up. I shouted out to Eddie to collect them while I carried on cooking their breakfast with the bacon crispy just as they liked. The toaster was also in action producing a large plate of buttered toast. Marcy lay and watched me work and said how impressed she was. "You'll make someone a good housewife one day you know," she laughed. "Can I have a cup of tea and a slice of toast too?" "Coming right up after I get these men fed," I replied. I easily served up the food onto three plates and shouted, "come and get it!" Then I started on Marcy's breakfast and then my own. There was another knock as Brent kindly returned the empty plates and mugs as Marcy and I sat and enjoyed our Spartan breakfast. Then they got on preparing the bikes for the two races ahead later in the day. After I'd done the washing up, Marcy told me to sit while she redid my makeup again and also my hair for my star appearance in front of the photographers. She finally showed me the costume I'd be wearing that I'd seen before but only with her wearing it. "I doubt that I'll fill it out the way you do," I said as she took it out of its box. It was a Lycra one-piece body suit that had a low cut top to reveal cleavage and I thought it would be really impossible to conceal my true gender wearing it. "I've already thought of that," she smiled. "I thought you might have done," I replied. "Strip off everything," she ordered. "What now? I just got dressed," I replied. "Yes now!" So when I sat naked on my bunk she had me first put on a pair of her thong panties which didn't do anything to hide my maleness. Next she handed me a tight Lycra panty girdle that really did conceal everything and it also pulled in my waist a good way. Next up was the costume itself which I inched up one leg and then the other. I pulled it up over my fake but realistic looking breasts and put both arms inside before she zipped it up in the rear. "There now how does that feel?" She asked. "Like I'm still naked," I replied simply. "That's how I used to feel. On cold days my nipples would get hard and show through the material. At least it won't be so big a problem for you with those breast forms," she advised. Just then, there was a knock at the truck door and it was Brent asking if I was ready for the photo shoot session with all the brolly girls in the pit lane area. "Oh Lord no, not already?" I replied very agitated. "Tell them she'll be ready in about 5 minutes," replied Marcy still putting the finishing touches to my hair with her hair brush. "OK," he said, "It's just that there was a tannoy announcement asking for all the grid girls to head to the pit lane now." "This is just plain loco crazy what we're doing," I replied feeling very nervous. "Everyone will see straight through me won't they?" Marcy didn't reply but continued brushing and tidying my hair before touching up my makeup particularly around my eyes again. Then she simply commented, "You're good to go now. Crazy or not you'll need to go to represent our team and yourself." Thoughtfully in what was a spontaneous gesture, she handed me her warm paddock jacket with the fur lined hood and a pair of her sparkly running shoes. "Put those on for now and change into the heels when you get up there," she cautioned. "Thanks now that's sensible and practical; do you have a bag I can use?" I asked. "A bag?" "To put your high heels in," I replied. She nodded and quickly handed me a small plastic carrier bag from my recent shopping trip. "Thanks Marcy," I replied putting the shoes into the bag with some difficulty caused by the height of the heels. "I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be. So please wish me luck." "You're forgetting some things," she said as I opened the truck door to leave. "What's that?" I asked. "Well your team umbrella for one and a goodbye kiss for me would also be very nice," she replied and lay back relaxed on her bunk. I turned around and exclaimed, "A kiss?" "Yes a kiss," she repeated. "You know what a kiss is don't you?" "Why do you want me to kiss you?" "I don't know really but I do find it very sexy that you're all dressed up and you look so convincing as a woman," she said making my jaw drop. So I bent down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek to leave a lipstick stain. "I'm sure you can do much better than that! A good kiss on the lips darling," she said. "You can always reapply your lipstick afterwards. I've seen you watching me putting on my makeup and I could tell you've always wanted to kiss me." I nodded sheepishly in reply. "Well now you can kiss me, only it's going to be you who is wearing the lipstick." That derogatory remark didn't put me off and I eagerly kissed her hard on the lips. It was a dream come true for me as I'd always fancied Marcy but I always felt that she was in a different league to little old me. But here I was with her asking me to kiss her fully on her lips. I might've been dressed and made up like a girl but I was still a red blooded male underneath. I really enjoy kissing girls and we kissed for about a minute or so before she broke for air. "Go on get your tush out of here Lara," she said patting me on the ass. "There'll be another reward when you get back." I smiled at that, grabbed the bag and my grid pass, and almost jumped down the steps out of the truck. As I moved out into the open air from the awning, I heard the tannoy announcing the final call for the photo session and inviting members of the public to bring their cameras along. So I jogged up to the pit lane very grateful I wasn't wearing Marcy's killer heels. It took around 5 minutes to run up to the grid area such was the race day activity inside the paddock, with people milling around and bikes being made ready for the first race of the day. When I finally arrived, the photo session was in full swing so I quickly sat on a nearby seat to take off the running shoes and put on Marcy's killer heels. I reluctantly removed her warm jacket and just carrying the umbrella I quickly joined the 20 or so other grid girls posing in the pit lane. I headed to the back of the group but one of the other girls grabbed me by the arm and said, "Stay beside me love and do just as I do." So I did as she asked. I copied her poses and moves as best as I could for around ten minutes or so. Occasionally she would say, "Keep smiling Lara," or "stick your boobs out more," or "shake your ass a bit." After posing for around another 15 minutes for race fans, I was asked to fill in a form I was given by the organiser's staff. "Have you ever done any modelling before?" she asked. "No never," I replied. "Does it show?" "No. You look really good," she replied. "You're much better than some of the others. I think you have a wonderful smile and your makeup is very well done." "Thanks," I replied simply relieved that she'd said that. I felt that at least I looked convincing enough. "Are we all done then?" "No we'll take a lot of all of the girls together, then some individual pictures of you then with a few of the other girls," she replied. "We won't take much longer." And so we were then photographed separately and in small groups. I was happy that I managed to get some taken with the girl who'd coached me in the beginning. After another half an hour or so it was finally all over. "Hello Lara, I'm Jilly by the way," said the other girl who had coached me. "Thanks Jilly. How do you know my name?" I replied accepting her friendly hug. "I'm so grateful for your help and advice earlier." "I know your name because I'm Ian's little sister. He asked me to keep an eye out for you today and so I hope that I've helped," she said sitting beside me as I gratefully took off the heels to put on Marcy's running shoes again. "Oh so you're Ian Wilson's sister?" "Yes he took you out last night," she nodded confirming her identity further. "Yes he did and he was a perfect gentleman," I replied and then added. "Talk about being thrown in at the deep end with this photo session." I put the warm jacket back onto my shivering frame. "How do you mean?" she asked. "I haven't been dressing very long and to be asked to pose for photos like these is a bit daunting to say the least," I replied. "It can be a bit daunting even for a normal girl on her first time out so I can't imagine what it must have been like for you," she replied. "Thanks I am so grateful for all your help," I replied. "I better get back." "Don't mention it. You really did the right thing bringing some trainers with you. I'll need to walk back to our van in these heels," She said. "Why don't we grab a coffee at the caf? later? You can tell me all about yourself then." "Thanks for the invite and yes perhaps this afternoon between the races?" I replied. "You know where we are in the paddock?" "Yes I do," she replied. "We could get a coffee at the burger van just up from us," I said. "Yes it's not far from us too so how about 2pm after the first race?" she asked. "I'll look forward to it," I replied happily but before I could leave a professional photographer approached me with a business card in his hand. "Thanks for posing earlier. Here's my card if you'd like some more taken at my studio," he said inviting me to pose again. "I can't," I replied looking at his card and finding that I lived around 300 miles away from his studio. "Why?" he asked. "Oh various reasons," I said. "What are they?" he asked curiously. "Well I live too far away to come to your studio." "I could come to you." He said. "What are the others?" "Well I'm not really a girl," I said hoping that would kill it stone dead. "I know," he replied. "That's the reason I want to take your picture. It's for a calendar I've been commissioned to produce of beautiful transsexual women." "I see," I said laughing. "I'll think about it then." "Don't take too long to think about it. I can come up to your town on Tuesday to take the pictures. It would only take a couple of hours." "Like I said I'll think about it." "Send me an email or a text later. I have to get moving to the chicane to take pictures of the action there in the first race." "OK," I said simply. I checked my wristwatch and realised I better get back to the truck quickly so I jogged easily back. Though on the way back, I was wondering what lies I'd have to tell Jilly to get her to think I was genuine and sincere. I got about half way back to our truck, when I suddenly realised I'd left the sponsor's umbrella in the pit lane. So cursing at my stupidity I turned around and jogged back to get it. When I got back I couldn't see it anywhere and was about to ask a marshal if he'd seen it when I looked up pit lane and saw a mechanic holding it and it turned out to be Ian Wilson. So I ran up to him and asked for the umbrella. "I thought that this might be yours," he replied handing the umbrella over. "I was going to bring it to your truck so you've saved me a trip." "Thanks for keeping it safe. Marcy would kill me if I lost it," I replied taking it from him and turning to leave. He had other ideas though. "So did you meet my sister Jilly?" he asked. "Yes she helped me get through the photo session," I replied. "Good," he said. "I knew she would, so I asked her to help." "Thanks yes she did and I'm sorry I have to go but I'm in a bit of a rush," I replied. "I better get back before the first race starts." "See you later then," said Ian generously. "Let me buy you a drink at the bar after the races." So relieved the umbrella wasn't lost, I ran off back towards the truck and when I arrived I found everything was going smoothly without me. Marcy was inside the truck while the guys had the bike ready to go with the tyre warmers on and it was sitting on its stands looking immaculate. The guys were nowhere to be seen so I walked into the awning. I was surprised to see that Marcy had at least started to prepare some food for lunch when I got back inside the truck. "How did it go?" She asked giving me a friendly almost sisterly peck on the cheek. "I think it went well thanks to help from Ian Wilson's sister Jilly," I said sitting down. "What that cow?" she asked cattily. "Well she wasn't a cow to me," I replied. "Ian had told her to look out for me and I'm grateful she did." I checked what was cooking and decided that I'd better take control over the pasta. I turned the heat down a little before preparing salad for Brent and anyone else who wanted one. I sliced up lettuce, cherry tomatoes, salad onions, and cucumber and then added it all to a bowl. I poured some salad dressing over the salad and mixed everything up so it was ready. I turned back to the pasta, drained the water and added a couple of cans of tuna to the salad bowl. I mixed that up too and then prepared the plates inside the awning. I found the boys were outside chatting and called them in to eat. They politely asked me how the photo session had gone and I told them that I thought it had gone well thanks to some help from Jilly. While we ate, Marcy fussed over me as she primped and preened my hair some more. She seemed to be fussing unduly and when I asked her to stop she just continued. The boys wolfed down their food apart from Brent who rarely ate much before a big race and this one was no different. When Joe and Eddie had finished, Brent got up and left with them to get changed back into his racing leathers. So I cleared up the mess they'd left on the table and decided to wash up leaving Marcy alone at the table. When I'd washed everything I went back to get her plate but she asked me to sit down for a chat. "Sit down a minute Lara!" she ordered. "What's up?" I asked. "You are! That's what's up," she admitted. "Why?" "I can't stop thinking about what you've done to help the team by going through with all this," she said seriously. "It's taken a lot of guts to do what you've done and I think that despite your manly howls of protest I get the distinct feeling you're secretly enjoying being Lara. Am I right?" "Uhm, perhaps enjoying isn't exactly the right word I'd use," I replied honestly. "Loving it then?" she guessed. "Yes though I hate to admit it, I'm loving it now the guys can see how much I'm prepared to sacrifice for the team and lately they've been really nice to me," I replied. "Other people that know about me have also been supportive which is nice." "Well the boys all got a small pep talk from me while you were out shopping and again every day since I kept hearing them make snide comments about you. At first Brent was like Joe and Eddie but this morning when you went off to do the photo shoot he said you'd got a lot more guts than him. He said he couldn't have done what you'd done team or no team and that got me thinking," she said. "What did you think?" I asked. "Like I said deep down now you see how accepting everyone has been and you admit to really loving being Lara," she said. "If I am not mistaken I even think you might actually decide to become Lara full time. If so I'd like to help you as I feel it's my fault that you are in this situation as a result of my accident." "Give over," I replied simply. "I can't wait to get my old life back again." However, I realised that she was probably right. My old life after this was going to be very mundane after being Lara. Before either of us could dwell on it any further, the tannoy announced that riders for the Superbike Championship race were to make their way to the assembly area for the first of the two feature 15 lap races over the full grand prix circuit. "Well I better get moving," I said grabbing everything I needed. "Let me touch up your makeup a little first," said Marcy who asked me to get her makeup bag again. So I sat impatiently as she touched up my eyes, face and lips with fresh colour. "There you go, gorgeous again," she replied smiling and giving me another kiss. I figured I'd still lap score as usual after appearing on the grid so I put my stop watches, board and time sheets into the bag along with her heels. "Good luck," said Marcy. "I'll be watching the race on TV here. Brent has set the truck TV channel so I can watch." So remembering to grab the umbrella, I joined the others outside and we walked together towards the assembly area with Eddie pushing the bike while Joe pulled his tools trolley as usual. When we arrived I was quickly ushered into pit lane where I was able to change into Marcy's heels and then put my bag on the pit lane wall near to the place where I normally sit in the signalling area and mentioned to the woman beside me that I'd be working beside her spot. Just to reinforce that Eddie arrived; carrying Brent's large signalling board which would be used to feed him the information he needed during the race. Suddenly there was a noise behind me and the bikes were suddenly allowed into the pit lane. As the green light came on, several riders started out onto the track including Brent. Then I could see Joe heading towards us with the cart and we waited on him to join us. We walked up pit lane together with me unavoidably wiggling my ass a little as I did so. We were then directed to a gap in the pit wall so we could access the track grid. I saw the third place grid slot where Brent was due to start from and we headed over towards it. Eddie set up a tape barrier on the grid, Joe got the tyre warmers, and the bike stands ready for the bike. Meanwhile I just stood with the umbrella wishing it was all over. We must have patiently stood beside Brent's front row grid position for around two minutes before he finally came down the pit straight towards us weaving the bike from side to side to make sure it was ok. I immediately unfurled the umbrella and opened it up as Eddie and Joe put the bike on its stand and I then stood beside Brent inside the roped off the area. Since Brent was the first of the front row to appear on the grid, almost immediately the TV camera crew and one of the commentators headed our way to interview him. I had to stand to one side to allow the interview to take place and I hoped I'd moved back to where I thought I'd not be in the camera viewfinder. I hadn't reckoned that the camera would be fitted with a wide angle zoom lens and as they did a close up of Brent I was clearly in the shot too. Back at the truck, Marcy was squealing with delight over my pose with my hand on my hip, my almost permanent white toothy smile through my red coloured lips and how I looked in general. Then she was clapping that her brother was getting that much needed air time on TV even if it was on a dedicated sports channel. "In third place is Brent Sadler who took advantage of the extremely wet conditions yesterday and posted his best ever qualifying position in British Superbikes," said the interviewer beginning the interview. "Did you just get lucky yesterday Brent?" "No I was on the right tyres at the right time," Brent replied. "That takes skill and experience. My pit crew also changed the wheels to full wets very quickly so it was a real team effort." "Well done so what are your plans for the race?" he asked. "Well I hope to get a good start into Redgate and I'll see how it goes from there," Brent replied. "I have a good set of soft tyres on the bike and although my bike is losing a little on the straights I'm hoping I can fend off the faster men behind me through the corners." "Where do you think you can finish?" "Oh I think a top ten finish is possible. For sure, I'm hoping to be top privateer. We'll see wont we?" smiled Brent. "Good luck for the race," shouted the interviewer who went off to interview other newly arriving riders. "That went well," I said to Brent before he popped his iPod music back into his ears. So there I stood; holding the sponsorship umbrella over Brent's head to shield him from the glaring sun. All the time I could imagine Marcy's nagging voice booming in my ears. "Keep smiling, you're doing great. Show them lots of white teeth and your red lips. Put your hand on your hip. Keep still and don't drop that fucking umbrella." All the time I was doing it I got the most intense feeling that I was almost naked. My feet in these shoes were in absolute bloody agony. I could feel my calf muscles tightening and then wanting to cramp up from just standing in them. I tried to stand on each foot in turn to ease the pressure on my calf muscles. I'd pivot on one heel and straighten my foot up which I found helped a lot. I then watched the TV cameraman pan along the front row of the grid with a few minutes to go before the race started. Brent appeared calm just sitting on his bike with his helmet sitting on the petrol tank listening to his favourite music on his iPod. Then with a minute to go there was the signal to clear the grid, so both Joe and Eddie swung into action removing the tyre warmers and clearing the rope barrier. Brent removed the iPod, started to put in his earplugs and put on his crash helmet. I took his iPod and immediately collapsed the umbrella. As I did, I wished him good luck and he smiled broadly at me inside his helmet. We had to queue up to get off the track as mechanics and grid girls all made their way off at the same time. Once in the pit lane I walked quickly taking the short mincing steps I had to take in Marcy's shoes to get to my lap scoring spot. I also quickly put on Marcy's warm paddock jacket as Eddie got Brent's engine started up with a push. Eddie then joined the people trying to get off the grid with Joe already in pit lane pulling the trolley behind him. The trolley had special places for the spare wheels and tools. There were even spare helmet visors and gloves for Brent. Eddie joined me on the pit lane wall signalling area in time to see all the bikes head off on their first of two warm up laps. "How do you think he'll do?" I asked Eddie after the roar of the bikes had died down. "A top ten I hope and then definitely top privateer," he replied taking the pit board out of its carrying bag. With the clock fast approaching 1pm, the bikes slowly came back into view around the final bend again. Brent was first to take up his position on the grid and after nervously checking his helmet strap, he sat there impassively waiting on the rest of the 30 bikes to form up into ten rows of three bikes a row. I could see a marshal waving a green flag at the back of the grid and the starter holding a red flag aloft started to walk off the track pointing to the starting lights as he did so. The thirty racing engines started revving furiously as the red lights held them back. Then as the lights changed to green there was an even bigger roar past us as thirty bikes took off from the grid. We both watched anxiously towards the first corner and saw that Brent had made a good start but had already dropped a place to fourth. As the bikes went out of our view we had to rely on the circuit commentator to tell us what was going on. He reported that the two riders who fell off at the first bend were unhurt with one retiring immediately while the other got going again but back in last place. Into the Old Hairpin, they went and Brent was still fourth though there was the entire field right behind him. With his underpowered bike, I felt sure that fourth place wouldn't last and sure enough he lost another place on the uphill section towards the next 90-degree right hand corner. That was followed by another demotion to sixth on the next right hand bend. "It's not going so well," I said glumly to Eddie. I looked over at Joe standing in the pit lane with the trolley and he gave the thumbs down sign in silent agreement. However, into the slow left hand entry into the chicane and Brent did some late braking as he pulled back up to fifth only to lose it on the exit. Then he gained it back at the tight hairpin bend at the back of the track. However, as he streaked past the line to start the second lap, he was back into sixth again with fifth place just in front. The top five were all factory supported riders and were already well ahead and pulling away. More importantly, the gap from Brent to the rider in seventh place was now a couple of seconds, as he'd had to take avoiding action at the final bend when someone slipped off in front of him. So for the remaining laps, the five men in front on more powerful tuned works bikes pulled steadily away from Brent while seventh slowly started to close the gap; so we crossed our fingers and ticked off the laps. As they started their penultimate lap, there was just a tenth of second between them both and sure enough Brent then lost seventh going into Redgate. With eighth place over 10 seconds adrift, seventh place was all Brent could get from the race plus he was a clear winner of the privateer class. So although he finished a distant seventh he was delighted at picking up the privateer bonus of several hundred pounds plus he'd be interviewed by the TV presenter along with the top three rostrum places. Joe and Eddie were very pleased at least and high fived Brent and themselves as a smiling Brent got off the bike in pit lane. Meanwhile I collected all my belongings and walked confidently over to the three of them oblivious that I was still wearing Marcy's heels. Brent eagerly also gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek as he put on his Michelin tyres baseball cap for the interview. I handed him a bottle of water that he eagerly drank. He was clearly delighted with seventh and top privateer that was probably much better than he'd dared to expect. I took out my phone from Marcy's jacket and snapped a few pictures of the three guys together. Then Eddie asked another mechanic to take some more pictures but with me in the picture too. Just as he went to do his post race TV interview with my feet hurting so much in Marcy's shoes, I asked Brent to get a couple of results sheets from race control. "Oh I thought that was your job," he smiled. "OK I'll get them then," I replied and slowly teetered off in the direction of race control, while Eddie pushed the bike down pit lane and Joe pulled the trolley back to the truck. As they walked back, a tyre technician gave Eddie a card to collect a new set of slick tyres for the next race for being top privateer. "They'll definitely come in handy for the next race," said Eddie pocketing the card. "These tyres are goosed." Meanwhile, I stood around waiting on the results sheets being published trying to avoid eye contact but smiling when I was looked at. I desperately wanted to sit down somewhere and change into the trainers but I felt that if I went away from the area, I wouldn't get a copy so I stood around patiently for around 10 minutes and still they didn't appear. Then I overheard a rumour that two of the first six were to have penalties applied for jumping the start so the results were being amended. Sure enough when the sheets were finally dropped into the box, Brent had been promoted to fifth, as two riders had been penalised. That was great news for us so I went off to the truck with two copies of the results not worrying about changing my shoes. I remembered what Marcy had said and to put the heel down first and then the sole and I was able to make good progress. I was surprised at how easy it was to walk in them with a little confidence. "Fantastic news," I said to Brent who was in the awning and in the process of taking his leathers off. "You were officially placed fifth!" "You're kidding me right?" he replied taking the results sheet I offered him. "Wow you're right. I see two had jump starts and I wondered how Billy managed to get past me going into Redgate on the first lap," he beamed. "That'll teach him. Thanks Lara. You'd better let the others see the good news." Eddie was working on the bike removing the wheels so they could get the tyres changed. "We'd better change the front brake pads too for the next race," said Joe as I approached. "Take a look guys," I grinned handing them the other results sheet. "Thanks Lara," said Eddie who put his oily black finger marks all over the paper. "He was fifth!" Joe exclaimed. "Brilliant that means we start on row 2 and not row 3 for the next race." "Come on let's get this bike ready for action again," said Eddie obviously a lot happier. Brent came out to help them. So I went back into see Marcy who was inside the truck and to have a much needed sit down. "Did you hear the great news?" "Yes Brent just told me," she replied. "He's over the moon." "Fifth is a brilliant result," I replied desperate to sit down. I handed her my last result sheet and started to take off my shoes that were now really hurting me. Then at that moment, Jilly popped her head into the awning and asked if I was going for that coffee. "Just give me a second to get these heels off first," I replied. "I'm in absolute agony." "Just go Lara! I'll manage here until you get back. Besides I think you could use a break," Marcy said enthusiastically who made clear her obvious dislike of Jilly. "Come on you'll manage because it's not that far," Jilly said grabbing my arm so I couldn't change my footwear. I gave up, pushed one of the shoes back on with a shrug and went with her arm and arm up to the cafeteria. There I found a couple of chairs in a corner, while Jilly ordered our lattes. Within a minute, she was back and giving me my much needed warm drink. "There you look as though you could use that drink," she said sitting down beside me. "I must confess I've been in warmer clothing than this grid girl outfit," I replied gratefully sipping my drink and feeling the warmth spreading. "That's just lovely thanks." "So Ian was telling me all about you when he got back last night," she started. "Oh what did he say? Nothing bad I hope." "On the contrary, he was full of compliments. He said how attractive you were and how he thinks you seem level headed," she replied. "He also said you come across as completely genuine and he also finally admitted he really fancies you." "Oh really? He said all that after just a couple of hours with me?" I asked. "He makes up his mind pretty quickly about people and he really liked you," she said. "Come to that so do I and I hope we can be good friends going forward. I think we'll be good friends unlike Marcy and I. She can be a bitch to get on with." "That's for sure," I replied. "Well I really appreciated the help you gave me earlier. I felt completely lost until you stepped in to help me. So yes I'd like it if we became friends." "So tell me a bit about yourself?" she asked after draining her cup. "There isn't much to say really," I replied not wanting to invent much detail. "There is the usual stuff about feeling wrong about whom I was from an early age." "Well when did you first feel that a mistake had been made?" she asked. "Oh maybe when was about 5 or 6 I think. I was quite bright at school compared to the other boys in my class and I regularly was placed with the top girls in tests and exams. However, I found that they wouldn't really accept me so I'd often wish I was a girl like them," I said honestly. That part of my story was true at least. "So what did you do about it?" she asked. "Not much to be honest as my father wouldn't have tolerated it or accepted me as he was a typical Northumberland coalminer," I replied. "He often said that he couldn't stand the thought of gay marriage or transgenderism so God knows what he'd have done to me." "I take it he's not around anymore," Jilly said sympathetically. "That's right. My Mum divorced him about 8 years ago when he had an affair with a lady he'd met in a Newcastle bar one lunch time before a United match he was going to," I replied. "And so how does your Mum feel about you then?" she asked. "Well she doesn't really know. I haven't had the courage to tell her though she probably suspects something isn't right as I've never had a close affair with a girlfriend yet," I replied. "Well many men don't have girlfriends," she said sympathetically. "I suppose so," I agreed. "It's just a bit difficult when you're naturally shy like me. I've heard that some girls at senior school thought I was arrogant when I was just very shy." "Well I have to say you didn't look very shy today on the grid or at the photo shoot this morning," she commented. "I watched you sticking out your ass and your boobs a few times. There wasn't anything shy about that." "It seems that I'm a very different person when I'm dressed as Lara. She's completely the opposite of Larry," I replied. "I can't really explain it but I do like it." "So will you want to see Ian again?" she asked unexpectedly. "I don't really know. I know we live miles apart with him living near London. He's offered to buy me a drink after the racing has ended today but I think we'll probably want to get away home shortly after the second race." "Yes same here," she agreed, "it's a long way home particularly on busy motorways." "I suppose we better get back. Oh my poor feet," I said laughing as I got onto my feet again. "I'd forgotten I was still wearing these stupid shoes." "Don't worry you'll get used to them eventually," advised Jilly. "How do you mean I'll get used to them?" I asked instinctively holding the door open on the way out. "Just that you will. Honestly if you wear them often enough and I get the feeling you will be then it won't be a problem," she laughed. "I'll see you on the grid shortly." "Right, I better get back to the truck," I said. We hugged and air kissed goodbye to avoid mussing our make-up. So when I slowly walked into the awning, Marcy was sitting in her usual chair while the bike preparations were almost complete with the back wheel going in as I arrived. "How was Jilly?" she asked. "Very nice," I replied. "I bet she was," said Marcy cattily. "What do you mean by that?" "Just be careful with her or she'll scratch your eyes out," Marcy cautioned. "Why should she do that? I'm no threat to her. She's drop dead gorgeous and she knows it," I laughed. "Maybe so, however just be careful with her. I've heard too many stories about her causing trouble with other girls who might threaten her crown as Miss Superbikes," she again cautioned. "We'll see then," I replied unworried. However, I did think that perhaps my little chat with Jilly was a bad idea, as I gave her a lot of ammunition to use against me if she was vindictive enough. Chapter 5 Day 4 - Sunday Race 2 I could hear the commentator's voice over the tannoy getting excited about the action on the track during the support race a little later when four riders came off while dicing for the lead. I sat in the awning relaxing just before the call for the second Superbike race. Across from me, Brent was talking to another racing journalist about his first race result while a steady stream of people had dropped by to offer their congratulations. Joe and Eddie had set up a small table full of signed photos and small posters for them to take away. "Did you have any anxious moments during the race?" asked the journalist. "Only to get to the finish," laughed Brent. "I was expecting the entire field to come streaming by at any second. I didn't look back until the last lap even though my pit board told me I had a good lead over Eric in eighth. For some reason it just didn't happen." "What are your tactics for the next race?" "Oh the same again, I think," said Brent. "Hopefully I'll make a better start this time." Marcy had started to pack stuff away for the journey home inside the truck while I just waited on the dreaded tannoy announcement for the riders to make their way to the assembly area again. The bike was ready with its tyre warmers switched on. It sat gleaming in the sunshine with the privateer winner's laurel garland over the petrol tank and screen. When the journalist had gone, Brent lay back in the chair and closed his eyes but they opened almost immediately when the announcement was made that the second Superbike race was due to start. He jumped up and hopped up the steps of the truck to tell Marcy the second race had been called. "Good luck," she said getting a hug from him. "Thanks but we've got our lucky mascot Lara on the grid today so we should be fine," he laughed. "Yeah right," she said. So we did it all again but this time with Brent starting in the middle of the second row of the grid. Once again, Brent was one of the first into his grid position and with practice, I stood more steadily in my heels holding that umbrella up. I stood quite close to Jilly who gave me a smile with her rider starting sixth. With the 3pm start fast approaching, the television cameras were once again in action zooming in on the bikes. Brent was one of the first to be interviewed again. "Can you get on the podium this time Brent?" "It won't be easy but I'll try. The bike is down on top speed compared to the works bikes so I'll just have to corner faster. Michelin gave me a pair of their new slick tyres after the last race, so that will really help a lot," replied Brent. "Good luck," said the interviewer who almost bumped into me on his way to his next victim. The two minute warning hooter sounded to clear the grid and I helped Brent get his helmet and gloves on before leaving him to it. Eddie gave him a push start to fire up the engine and as I got back into pit lane, the field started out on their warm up laps. I gave Brent the thumbs up when he got back from the warm up laps to show I was in position on the pit lane wall. The red flag man walked slowly off pointing to the starting lights above him as he did so. The revs were building up and another one or two started to creep forward which meant they'd get a penalty later but Brent stayed still. Suddenly they were released and Brent went into Redgate still in fifth place. "Can he hold on?" I asked. "We'll soon see," replied Eddie getting the signalling board ready. As they finished their first lap, I was pleased to see that Brent was still fifth and although those behind him were clearly faster on the straight, he was braking later and cornering faster to hold them at bay. So it went on with Brent doing all he could to keep his precious second fifth place finish a possibility but it all came to nought when the sixth place man tried to out brake Brent at the last bend just as they were about to start the last lap. Both of them came off and with both bikes stuck in the middle of the track then the red flag was shown to stop the race. With the race over, the marshals were able to pick up both bikes and get both riders out of harm's way. "Shit!" shouted Eddie. "Stuart Jones just took out Brent and they've crashed." "Is he OK?" "He's limping a bit and looks totally pissed off at Stuart," replied Eddie who was looking back up the track. "Bummer, poor Brent," I replied already packing up my things. Fortunately, Brent wasn't too seriously hurt in the crash. After the race, he was quickly picked up by the ambulance and taken to the circuit medical facility. With the race being shown the red flag before the chequered flag was waved to end the race, I thought that the result would be declared at the end of 14 laps when Brent was still lying fifth. I was quick to point that out to both Joe and Eddie that he was at least fifth but Joe was in no mood to talk about it. "Never mind that Lara go and find out how he is. We'll get the bike and go back to the truck," he ordered. "See you later then. I'll find out how he is and telephone Marcy," I replied showing a little initiative of my own. "Thanks," shouted Eddie already running to where the breakdown van was delivering the bikes for the teams to collect. Brent's bike was first out of the van and apart from a few scuff marks where it had slid across the tarmac it didn't look too bad. The other three bikes were badly damaged as they had somersaulted several times. Eddie was able to push Brent's bike back to our truck where they could properly survey the damage. "I reckon we got off pretty lightly," said Joe thinking only of the bike's damage. "There's maybe 500 quid's worth of bodywork damage. It's mainly small stuff." Meanwhile I'd gone to the medical centre and saw Brent sitting in a cubicle looking ashen faced. I was tempted to give him a hug but with his arm in a sling that was clearly out. "How are you feeling?" I asked. "I'm gutted," he replied. "I had fifth in the bag until that effing idiot took me out!" "No I meant how do you feel injury wise?" I explained. "My collarbone's broken but otherwise I'm all right apart from a few bruises," he replied. "A bit down as I had a possible good finish in the top five." "What would you say if I told you that you were fifth?" I replied. "I'd say you beauty and give you a great big kiss. How can that be as I didn't finish the race?" He replied his eyes opening wider and the dejection lifting instantly. "Well the red flag came out before the chequered flag was given to the winner so by my reckoning the result should be given after 14 laps not 15. At the end of lap 14 you were still fifth," I said showing him my lap scoring sheets. "See?" "Yes I see," he declared happily. "Go and find out the official result please." "Yes will you be ok here on your own for a bit? I'll just call Marcy and let her know how you are first," I replied. "Never mind that! I'm fine really. Go and find out. Go!" he ordered. So I walked out and called Marcy as I walked to race control. I gave her the relatively good news that he just had a broken collarbone and that he'd ordered me to get the official results. "That's bloody typical of him," she replied. "Joe or Eddie will be up soon to get him. You better get the results and get back here." So again, I stood waiting in a small throng for the final result sheet of the day. When they were finally published, I was pleased to see that the results had been amended with them being counted back to the end of lap 14 and then they had excluded Jones for causing an accident. When the freshly printed results sheets were dropped into the box at the bottom of race control, it was in black and white that Brent was fifth and the top privateer again. I smiled and walked happily all the way back to the medical centre and saw that Brent had already left. I walked as quickly as I could in Marcy's damn heels. I finally caught up to Brent and Joe just outside our awning inspecting the damage to the bike. After I got back to the truck, I went to see Marcy so I could change out of the grid outfit I was still wearing. However, she was busy trying to tidy up the area, packing cups and plates into boxes so they could be put away inside the front of the truck. "Come on Lara let's get packed up and get out of here," she said hopping around gathering stuff up. Since the boys were busy packing away the bikes and tools into the back of the truck there was a definite need for me to help her. I took off my heels and quickly put on the wedges to move around easier. Any thoughts of her helping me to return back to being Larry again seemed to evaporate as she bellowed orders on where each box should be stored inside the truck. After half an hour, all that remained were the collapsible chairs and tables that were to be stowed in the back of the truck. So I began that task and carried chairs around to the back and was happy to see that only a few bike things remained to go in. "Just the flooring, tables and chairs left in the awning," I said to Joe who was helping Eddie load the spare tyres and wheels into the back. "Good work Lara," cried Eddie. "Thanks," I said and returned to get two plastic chairs. When I got back Brent was there beaming with his fifth place and the top privateer prize. "You did well this weekend," Marcy said to him. "You did too!" She said at me as I lifted up the light plastic table and collapsed it. Brent sat down on a chair again and was starting to get changed out of his racing suit when I returned. Marcy had thrown him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to wear which with some difficulty he was trying to put on. I helped put the leather suit and his helmet into his large holdall bag and then carried it to the back of the truck. Eddie helped me with the tables and chairs as Joe began the task of collapsing the awning and lifting up the plastic flooring. I went around picking up awning hooks and small items and putting them into a canvas sack. Within another twenty minutes, we were completely packed up and aboard the truck making slowly for the crowded paddock entrance gate with Joe driving Marcy's car just behind us. It was only when we were outside that I realised that I was still dressed as Lara in my grid girl outfit. "I thought you said you'd change me back to Larry before we went home," I said to Marcy who just smiled at me. "Do you want me to change you back?" She asked. "Too right I do," I said sitting beside her with Eddie driving the truck and Brent alongside him. "I've been thinking it's probably best that you stay at our house tonight and then go home in the morning," she said. "Oh come on Marcy quit stalling and get me out of this stuff," I cried just as we finally turned onto the M1 motorway northbound slip road. Eddie driving floored the throttle but the aging truck engine just suddenly went bang with a horrible crunching noise with what sounded like a big problem with the gearbox. We just coasted to a halt on the M1 slip road and so Eddie got out to investigate. I could see out the side door that there was a long trail of black oil on the road behind us. Meanwhile Joe was already several miles up the motorway heading home in Marcy's car as he had an early morning start at work. "How bad is it?" Asked Marcy. "Probably petty fucking bad," said Brent cursing unusually. "The gearbox has broken." "Dear God so what happens now?" Marcy replied. "Do I call the AA? I'm a member." "No we need a tow truck," replied Brent. "Will it take us home?" She asked and then she called Joe to come back and help. "Joe? I'm sorry but you'll need to turn around and come back to junction 21. We've run into gearbox trouble so you'll need to come and help. We're just on the northbound slip road." I could almost hear Joe's curses in her ear but he did as she asked and turned up around thirty minutes later. We all waited another hour until the tow truck finally arrived. The tow truck driver quickly connected a tow bar to the front of our truck and we slowly continued on our journey north. We were taken to the next truck stop and despite his collarbone; Brent decided that he'd stay with Eddie in the truck overnight until the nearest garage opened in the morning. So with Joe driving, Marcy and I piled into her little car and we were 25 miles nearer home when I suddenly realised that all my male clothes were still in the back of that broken down truck. My appearance was still distinctly feminine. "Can we go back?" I asked. "Why?" asked Joe. "All my guy stuff is still in the back of the truck," I said. "And I really need to get out of this stupid outfit." "I really can't go back again now," said Joe. "I have to get home as I have work tomorrow morning at 6 am." "Oh great," I said. "Well I can't turn up at the office tomorrow looking like this." "You'll just need to pull a sickie," suggested Marcy. "It looks like I'll need to or take a day's unpaid leave as all my holidays are already booked," I replied sullenly. After two hours of hard driving, Joe eventually pulled into a service station for fuel and we helped Marcy out with her crutches so she could use the toilet. I went with her and held the lady's toilet door open so she could use a cubicle. "I may as well join you," I said taking the one next to hers. Getting out of the outfit was a bit of a problem but that done I sat down to relieve myself. "Marcy are your other clothes in the car?" I asked. "Yes I saw Joe load my bag which has some of your girl stuff inside into the boot why?" "I thought maybe I could wear something more sensible than this grid outfit," I replied standing up to pee. "How are you managing? The toilet looks disgusting in here." "I always put toilet paper on the seat," she replied. "I don't need to sit," I laughed. After around 5 minutes, she emerged and I helped her with the doors until she was back at the car. She asked Joe to open the boot and she rummaged around inside her bag. She gave me a pair of her stretch jeans and a team T-shirt to wear. Thankfully, I was still wearing her warm paddock jacket. After I got back from the disabled toilet where I managed to change, I was happy to see that Joe had bought us some drinks and snacks for the next short leg of the journey. We were about an hour from Marcy's house when Brent called to give us an update. "Eddie's managed to source a replacement gearbox and hopefully they can get it delivered tomorrow to the repair garage," Marcy later told us. "Meanwhile Brent's still in a bit of pain with his collarbone and they've organised a taxi to take him to hospital. The hospital has decided to plate his collarbone so he has to have an operation in a couple of hour's time. Eddie is with him though they've no idea when they'll get home." We finally arrived at Marcy's apartment at around 10:30pm. Joe had fortunately left his van outside her apartment, so he left her car in its place and quickly drove home after wishing us both a cheery good night. Marcy slowly hobbled up the two flights of steps using her crutches while I carried her bags from the car. "How am I going to get home from here? Eddie gave me a lift to Brent's place and it's another hour for me to get home," I said. "Then I'm still dressed which won't go down too well with my Mum." "You can easily stay here tonight and I'll organise a taxi in the morning to take you to the train station," she replied which put my mind at ease a little. "Thanks but I still can't go home looking like this," I replied putting her two bags on the table in the living room. "Just put the bags in the bedroom please," she said, so I dutifully picked them up and put them in the built in wardrobe inside the bedroom. "I'm exhausted so let's sort things out in the morning." "So where do I sleep?" "There's the sofa in the living room or you can share my king size bed." "Your bed? You don't mind me sleeping in your bed?" "Yes but don't get your hopes up. You won't get anywhere," she said in a threatening tone. I was tired too but I really could use a cup of tea or coffee so I offered to make her one. "Thanks Lara," she said when I handed her a hot cup of tea the way she liked it. "Sit on the bed and I'll remove your makeup." "Oh I completely forgot I was wearing any," I laughed. "Well it's looking a bit second hand now and needs to come off before bedtime," she replied already slathering my face with cold cream. "Talking of hands. Can you get these bloody nails off?" "I'll do that tomorrow," she said taking the makeup removal wipe and showing me how discoloured it was from the makeup. That done she gave me a pair of her pink fluffy pyjamas and at her request I went into the living room to get changed. "You didn't seem to mind me changing in the truck," I said when I got back wearing the pyjamas which seemed a good fit apart from the short legs. "That was in the truck, this is here," she replied. I was just glad to get out of the clothes she'd lent me. I then went to the toilet and relieved myself before returning to the bedroom. She was in bed and about to turn out the light when I got back. I got into my side of the bed and lay back on the soft pillows. "It's a nice warm bed," I said. "It smells of you." Her hand came over and she stroked my hair as we both fell asleep. We were both exhausted mentally and physically. However, our sleep was abruptly brought to an end when the phone rang early the next morning. Chapter 6 - Day 5 - Monday blues I rolled over just glad it wasn't my phone. However, she woke me up to tell me that Brent had just called. "He's had the operation to plate his collarbone and he just wants to come home as soon as possible." "Tell him to get on a train then," I said unsympathetically still trying to sleep. "No I said we'd go and get him," replied Marcy. "We?" I asked suddenly awake. "Well I can't drive like this. Now can I?" she asked. "You're joking right?" I replied. "Marcy I really need to get home." "Well you can't go home just yet," she replied. "We need to get Brent home." "Marcy you promised that I'd get out of this stuff yesterday and I want to get my life back," I whined unhappily at her. "I know I did and I promise we'll make it up to you somehow. I still can't drive the car with my sore ankle," she said with frustration. "I don't like it any more than you but we'll need to leave to go and get him in an hour or so." "I don't think you will dislike it more than me as I can't go back to being Larry can I until this is over?" I replied very disappointed. "I can appreciate that but we'll really need to pick up my stupid brother at the hospital in Derby," she replied. "What about Eddie? Can't he do it? He's already there. Can't Brent simply catch a train home?" I asked less than keen to go back down. "No Eddie can't help as he has to help take care of the truck which is going to have its gearbox replaced today," she said. "Brent just doesn't feel up to doing the trip by train. He's just had major surgery remember." "Well all my stuff and all my usual clothes are in the back of that truck. If we go back, I'll want to get them all out so is that possible?" I asked hopefully. "I don't see why not," she agreed. So, after she'd done first her own and then my makeup we left for the long trip south to collect Brent at just after 8 am. "We're right in the middle of the rush hour Marcy. This trip is going to take us hours longer," I said as the traffic in front of us just slowed to a crawl and then stopped. It took us an hour to cover just 5 miles and I said, "Marcy this is bloody hopeless and I think we should just pull into the next service station to get fuel and some snacks. Then hopefully the traffic will be lighter when we come back out." "Yes you are right," she agreed reluctantly taking fifty pounds out of her purse for the petrol. So, we drove in to fill up the car at the next services. While I filled up the tank, she hobbled off towards the lady's toilets using her crutches. After paying for the fuel and snacks, I decided that I'd join her in the ladies as the disabled toilet was occupied. That done without incident; she bought some more snacks for Brent and some bottles of water for us. Then we could continue the long journey south. As we headed down the M6 we tuned into all the traffic announcements and learnt that, there was a delay of about an hour, 50 miles south so I suggested that we leave the motorway and use the slower A6 instead. Marcy agreed and we turned off onto the slower road before we approached the motorway bottleneck. Of course, many other drivers had had the same idea and we still found ourselves stuck in heavy traffic again miles from the hospital in Derby where we'd arranged to meet Brent. As the rain started to fall heavily, we were about 10 miles north of Derby when suddenly it all went badly wrong. A large delivery truck suddenly swerved and skidded into the traffic backed up behind us causing a massive pile up with seven cars badly damaged including Marcy's. The accident caused both of us to suffer whiplash injuries as a car behind slammed into the back of her small car. The emergency services were fortunately quickly on the scene and we were then rushed to the hospital in Derby ourselves for a precautionary check-up. Of course, I was asked my name in the ambulance as they put a cervical collar around my neck. Dressed as I was, I gave it as Lara which in hindsight was probably the wrong thing to do as the medic gave me a knowing look as she noticed my Adam's apple below my chin. "Have you been in transition long? Do you take any medication such as female hormones?" she asked. "No not long and I'm not on hormones yet," I replied. "Well you do make a very pretty girl," she replied tightening the collar that would hold my neck still. "Are you sore anywhere else?" she asked. "No. Only in my neck," I replied. "It really hurts quite badly now." When I arrived at the Hospital Accident and Emergency Department, Marcy had just arrived before me. We were both wheeled into the treatment room together and fortunately, her neck injury was not as bad as mine, as her head rest had been adjusted correctly to suit her height. So it was that the medical staff focussed much of their attention on her sore ankle and they stiffly strapped it up before letting her sit in the waiting room. When they turned their attention back to me, they seemed much more interested in my transgenderism than in my sore neck. However, they advised that I would be kept in the hospital overnight as a precaution because of my neck trauma and that the hospital's gender specialist would come and see me later. So it was that I was taken on a trolley to a private room on a women's ward where I was helped into bed still wearing the cervical collar. I was feeling quite sorry for myself when a nurse dropped by with a set of pink female pyjamas in my size. "Let's get you changed," she ordered. So I let her undress me but I helped with putting on the pyjamas. She said I could keep my panties and bra on. When she left, Marcy walked in to say that she could go home as Eddie had fixed the truck and Brent was waiting downstairs. She said she would contact my mum and explain what had happened. She'd return to get me as soon as I found out when I could go home. "You can't leave me here like this?" I pleaded. "At least get all my stuff out of the truck and drop it off." "That's not possible right now as Eddie's halfway up the M6 now," she replied. "I've hired a car to take Brent home and here's forty pounds to cover incidental expenses in the meantime. I'll be back just soon as I can to take you home. In meantime just relax and let the staff look after you." "It looks like I don't have any choice now does it?" I asked annoyed. "Who'll drive the hire car if both of you are still injured?" "Me; the hospital has given me a better support bandage to wear on my ankle and I should be ok providing I don't need to change gear too often. I'll see you in a day or so." Then she was gone. I was really annoyed at just being left, dressed and looking as I did. Nothing much happened until around 4pm when a young female doctor stuck her head in the door and wondered if she could speak to me. I was bored and she looked pretty nice so I readily agreed. Little did I realise but she was the gender specialist that I'd been advised about. "Hello its Lara isn't it?" she asked. "I'm Doctor Kelly Smith. Do you mind if I talk and examine you?" "Yes it's Lara and no I don't mind," I replied sullenly. "I understand from my colleagues that you are transgender male to female, is that right?" she asked as she started looking at my notes and my temperature chart. "That's what I told them," I replied. "Why?" "Have you had these feelings long?" she asked. "Probably most of my life Doctor," I lied as it seemed to make my appearance more credible. "I see and when did you actually start living and dressing full time in the female gender?" she asked. "Would you believe it was last Friday after the team needed a brolly dolly on the grid at Donington," I replied. "Why just last Friday? Why not before then?" She asked. "The team needed a girl on the grid for the races and I was asked to do it because the only real girl injured her ankle in an accident while wearing her stupid high heels," I said. "So just like these shoes in your bedside locker?" she said pulling them out to show me. "That's the same pair she was wearing. How did they get into my locker?" "That I don't know unless you were wearing them at the time of the accident," she said. "Yes I didn't have any other shoes to wear and I found driving while wearing them was relatively easy thankfully," I replied. However, in truth I'd driven most of the journey wearing only thin pantyhose. "So what happens now?" "Well I need a blood sample from you to check your hormone levels first," she said. "Then I can recommend a suitable hormone treatment for you seeing as you're already living as a female. That will obviously help you to adjust better." "Well you can take a blood sample but I'm happy the way I am for now thanks," I replied. So eagerly she quickly fetched a syringe and her blood sample kit. Then she took a couple of tubes of blood from a vein in my arm and labelled them with my name before putting them in a clear plastic bag. "That's great, I'll take them to the lab now so we can get the results later today or tomorrow morning," she said eagerly. "I'm not going anywhere with this thing around my neck," I said pointing to the uncomfortable cervical collar. After she left, I finally called my mum as my phone still had some battery life in it, and I told her what had happened regarding the car accident. I told her not to worry and that I'd probably be released the next day after a night of observation. I was actually feeling ok and was actually pretty hungry as I'd not eaten since our motorway stop earlier. So I summoned a nurse and asked when supper would be served. She said supper was at 6pm so I asked for a glass of milk after I explained how hungry I was and she readily agreed to get me one. I dozed for a while after that. I had salad for supper and watched a little television but there was nothing of interest to watch. So I went off to sleep and despite wearing the uncomfortable collar I slept well. Chapter 7 - Day 6 - Released from hospital Happily, I gave the nurse the news the next morning that I was feeling much better and had slept well. She announced that once the doctors had done their morning rounds of the ward I'd probably get the all clear to go home. "Can I get changed back into my clothes then?" I asked. "Not just yet," she replied. "They won't be too long now so please be patient." Around five minutes later and the pretty Doctor Smith returned with the results of my blood tests and another tray of syringes and vials. "Good morning Doctor Smith," I replied happily thinking I wouldn't be seeing her again. "Ah good you're still here," she replied. "I've got the results of your blood tests and it shows that you are a bit anaemic and obviously very low on oestrogen so I can give you some pills or a shot or two to boost them." "It's ok really," I replied looking to avoid any more shots or pills. "My own doctor can surely deal with that." "Well yes but it won't do any harm to start your dysphoria treatment now so please roll over onto your side," she ordered without listening to my protests. I groaned at her and was annoyed that she was going to do this but looking like I did I could hardly argue against her that I shouldn't have them. As she injected into my ass, she said my blood cell count was also well below normal and she gave me a small bottle containing some pills. "Maybe that explains why I'm always feeling tired these days," I said as I opened the bottle to look at what I assumed were female hormone pills. "I've given you a intra muscular dose of both an anti androgen and oestrogen," she said wiping the injection site in my ass. "You've done what? I thought you were giving me a shot because of my anaemia. What's an anti androgen?" I asked not understanding what was going on. "That injection will inhibit the production of your testosterone for a few weeks and it will allow the oestrogen shot to work easier," she said removing her latex gloves. "Your doctor at home will monitor your blood and hormone levels now. I'll write to them to say I've started your HRT treatment here. I'll be back with the letter that you should hand into your local medical centre back home." "Thanks what's HRT?" I replied but in truth I really hated her overzealous attention to detail. "Oh sorry HRT stands for hormone replacement therapy. Make an appointment when you get home to continue your HRT," she continued. "I will," I replied wondering what effect those hormone injections she'd given me would have over the next month. After she left to write her letter to my doctor, the ward round began and after they'd removed the tight neck collar and I reported a lot less pain in my neck I was told I could go home. Happy with the news, I got changed into Marcy's outfit that I'd worn the day before and with a fully charged phone battery I eagerly called her to say I was being discharged. "That's great," she said and she asked, "Do you have any money left?" "Yes why?" I asked. "I have the forty pounds that you gave me." "When you get outside, grab a bus or a taxi to the train station and get the next train north. I'll meet you at the station and bring you back here." So reluctantly and annoyingly, I did as she asked and was soon on a train speeding north reluctantly carrying the letter the doctor had given me. Everyone I met seemed to treat me as if I was a real girl. I was called Miss by everyone I met including the conductor when he asked for my ticket on the train. The train was unfortunately delayed by a few hours because of a break down and I missed my connection so it was eventually nearly 5pm when I finally arrived into the station where Marcy lived. Fortunately, Marcy was there waiting to greet me after I kept her posted on my progress north and we hugged a tender hello on the platform which I enjoyed. On the way back to her apartment, I told her of my growing predicament as Lara. "You need to help me get out of this situation Marcy," I pleaded. "I've already had an unwanted injection of female hormones today and the hospital has written this letter for me to give to my family doctor. He's a close friend of my mother and he might tell her." "Right so let's get you back to being Larry right away. The deception should end now I agree." She decided. However, I was completely exhausted when we entered the apartment and I flopped down onto the sofa just like a rag doll. Despite the small collar still uncomfortably fitted around my neck, I was instantly asleep so Marcy pulled me up and dragged me through to her spare room and helped me into her bed. Thinking about it now, I think the sheer mental energy required to be Lara had been just too much. Chapter 8 - Day 7 - At Marcy's I woke up at around 8am the next morning with my left eye stuck closed, as I hadn't removed the eye make-up and mascara I'd applied the day before. I desperately needed to pee and so went to the toilet. I eagerly washed my face after using some of Marcy's makeup remover. I found a bottle of nail polish remover in the bathroom and tried to remove the nail polish but it just wouldn't come off. My nails were still long and those still had to come off too. After that frustration, I went through to wake up Marcy and found that she wasn't in bed or even in the apartment. She'd gone off to work I soon discovered from reading the note that she'd left on the kitchen table. I was really annoyed that she hadn't the heart to wake me. Her note said that she would try and get home during her lunch break if the salon wasn't busy or she'd get home by four. Until then I was just to make myself at home until she got back. Well I decided that somehow I had to get back to normal by myself so went back to the bathroom and first took a long hot shower. I washed my still blonde hair, I shaved the thin fuzz from my face and tied my hair into a ponytail. My plucked and arched eyebrows still stared back at me making me look more like a girl even without the make-up. I also had the stupid breast forms still stuck on my chest and I tried to prise them off but they were still stuck fast to my skin. "Shit!" I shouted in frustration so I called Marcy just before noon to ask if she was coming home as I needed her help to get the false breasts off. "Sorry it's really super crazy here right now so it's likely I won't be back until nearer six tonight," she replied much to my annoyance. "How the fuck do I get these breast forms off?" I asked. "You'll need the solvent," she exclaimed. "Right so where is it?" I demanded. "Sorry it's in the boot of my car Larry," she said instantly regretting it. "Marcy I really need to get these stupid things off my chest, my hair cut and dyed back to normal and these false nails off my fingers," I said exasperated with frustration. I slammed the phone down on her and seconds later, the doorbell rang. Since I was naked I reluctantly had to grab Marcy's pink fluffy dressing gown and through the peephole saw, it was a parcel delivery for her. Reluctantly I opened the door and he asked if I was Marcy and when I nodded, he handed me the device pad to sign for the package. He gave me the parcel after I signed clumsily with my long nails using the stylus. From the size of the box, I could tell it was probably another pair of high heeled shoes for Marcy. I put the box on her bed and went to look for my own clothes. I found my own bag behind the sofa and put on my team T-shirt but the false breasts still attached to my false chest meant it didn't fit properly. So I slipped on my cotton underpants and put on my own jeans again. It was only when I tried to put on a pair of socks that I noticed my toenails were still painted. Damn you Marcy I said to myself as I looked for one of her tops and my T shirt looked lost. Finally dressed I realised I was quite hungry so I went into the kitchen to find something to eat. I found a packet of cornflakes but there was only a splash of milk left in the bottle. I found a banana but that was overripe and then I saw that she had plenty of eggs. I cracked some into a bowl, mixed some up with salt and pepper to make an omelette. My hunger sated I went through my bag and pulled out my trainers and put them on. I called my mum and told her I was staying with Marcy for the time being until I felt better. When she suggested that she should come and get me, I lied a little and told her that Marcy and I had started dating. I called the office and told them that I'd been involved in a car crash the day before and had suffered whiplash to my neck. I told my boss that I'd been in hospital overnight but that I was already feeling better. Somewhat relieved he told me to get well and sympathised. So I sat down in the old armchair in Marcy's living room and waited on her to get home by watching television. It was nearly 7 by the time she arrived back carrying a Chinese takeaway for our supper. "Lara I'm home!" she called out as she walked down the hall seemingly recovered from sore ankle. "In here," I replied from the living room and I got up to see her walk without a limp into the kitchen. She laid the bags of food on the kitchen table and then put some of the food containers into the microwave to heat them up again. "I'm glad you're here," I said watching her move around but not even limping slightly. "Poor you," she said approaching me and kissing me on the head. "Are you feeling better?" "I actually feel fine now. I just want to get my Larry life back together again," I replied. At that moment my mobile phone bleeped for an incoming call. I looked at it and not recognising the number I let it be. However they called again and when I answered the call it turned out to be the photographer who'd taken a strong interest in me during the photo shoot two days earlier. "Hi Lara, I'm really pleased to tell you that I've had a lot of interest in your photos since Sunday. The organisers are pleased that you were out representing the trans community at their event and they've asked me if I can do another photo shoot of you in normal clothes and surroundings for the next race programme," he said. "I'd also like to take pictures of you with Brent and his race bike. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?" "Dear God," I replied out loud. "Hold on." To which Marcy queried, "What's wrong?" "I've just been asked to do a photo shoot by a photographer I met at Donington," I replied. "He wants me to pose with Brent's bike." "Oh that's just amazing. You'll have to do it Lara," she said. "It'll be wonderful publicity for the team." Instead of agreeing with her, I told him, "Let me think about it." However Marcy had other ideas and grabbed the phone of out my hand and spoke to him about meeting up. Before long she had a smug look on her face having agreed a place and time to meet up the next afternoon as she knew Brent would jump at the chance of the free publicity. "Why the hell did you do that?" I demanded angrily snatching my silent phone back from her. "Because it was necessary. The team will feature in the next programme and it's too good an opportunity to miss," she explained as she called Brent to tell him the news and arrange everything. Brent was still sore from the operation on his collarbone but agreed with her that it was the right thing to do even if he might miss the next races at Cadwell Park the following weekend because of his injury. "So it looks like you'll need to be Lara for just a little longer," said Marcy dishing out hot Chinese food onto my plate. "When is this nightmare ever going to end?" I cried almost throwing my plate against the microwave in anger. "Hopefully by this time tomorrow night," she said giving me a little hope but no immediate relief. "When have I heard that kind of talk before?" I asked in disbelief. "Sit and eat your dinner," she ordered as she then proceeded to call Joe and Eddie and tell them of the photo shoot. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. Marcy went to answer it and it turned out to be my brother Geoff who had called round to see me as he lived nearby. "Is Larry here?" he asked as she opened the door. "Well no not really. He's just gone out," she lied keeping the door security chain on. "So did he say where he was going?" Geoff asked still at the door. "The convenience store to get some food," replied Marcy as all the time I hid in the bedroom behind the door dreading that he should see me. "It's just that I got a call from our Mum and she's a bit worried as he told her he'd been in a car crash yesterday." "Yes we were both in the same car," explained Marcy. "We both have whiplash though his was worse than mine. He was kept in for tests but he's better now." "Oh that's a relief then," Geoff replied. "Do you mind if I wait for him inside?" "Well I was due to have a hot bath," replied Marcy trying to make it clear that he wasn't welcome to stay. "He could also be gone for some time. I know he was going to make a Thai curry and was off to look for specific ingredients like lemon grass and ginger." "Right ok," said Geoff turning reluctantly to leave. "Thanks anyway." However Geoff then decided to call me on my mobile phone outside Marcy's main door. Standing outside he could easily hear my mobile phone ringing from inside the apartment and so he knocked urgently on the door again. Marcy was still beside the door when he knocked. Before she opened the door she told me to leave my phone on the hall table. I then went back to the bedroom again as I couldn't let him see me like this. "Oh it's you again," Marcy said on opening the door after he knocked again. This time the door chain broke as Geoff barged past her and into the apartment announcing, "I heard Larry's phone ring in here so where is it?" "You mean this phone?" she asked holding up my phone. "Right so where is its owner?" he demanded. "Out like I told you," said Marcy opening the front door wider so he would take the hint and leave. "I don't believe you. For some reason something isn't right," he said and walked further into the apartment. He checked both the living room and then the kitchen before Marcy checked his advance towards her bedroom. "Where the hell do you think you're going? Who the hell do you think you are?" She asked angrily. "I'm looking for my brother and I'm asking you nicely to step aside," he demanded. "This is my home and you can't come waltzing in without permission." said an indignant Marcy. "Where is he then?"Geoff said trying the bathroom door handle and finding it locked on the inside. "Are you in there Larry?" He demanded. "No Larry isn't here right now," I replied in as high a pitched voice as I could muster. I also decided that if I was going to be caught out I might as well go the whole hog with my appearance. So I had quickly put on some of Marcy's lip gloss, some mascara, pulled out my ponytail and back brushed my hair. "Funny," said Geoff recognising my voice despite the falsetto. "Mum's worried about you and she sent me to check on you." "She needn't worry," I replied normally. "You can tell her I'm fine." "Come out and tell me that to my face," he demanded. "Look get out of my flat before I call the cops," said Marcy obviously recognising the poor situation I was in. "Not until he comes out!" he screamed at her. "OK," I replied. "You are not going to like what you see though." "Why's that? Are you dressed as a girl or as a clown?" he asked coming down as he heard the bolt click inside the door. "How did you guess?" I asked finally unlocking and then opening the door. "Happy now?" "Dear God. What in God's name are you wearing?" He asked. "Why don't you think I suit it?" I replied. "No you fairy I don't think you suit it," he retorted. "Why are you dressed up like this? Are you a tranny?" "Look it's a long story but I honestly only did it to help out Brent's racing team. Thanks to Marcy here I made a good looking girl last weekend at Donington. So much so I was the team Brolly Dolly on the grid." "I watched the races on television and I thought the grid girl was familiar looking," he claimed. "You are a complete idiot! Also that might have been a few days ago it doesn't explain why you're still wearing make-up, girl's clothes and have breasts." "Well Marcy injured her ankle and I took her place as there was no one else. Now it seems that there's an important team photo session tomorrow and after it then I can go back to being Larry again," I explained. "No I don't think so Larry. The joke's over," he replied. "Now go get your stuff and I'll take you home." "No!" I replied. "I'm staying here tonight. Besides I'm not going home looking like this!" "You heard him," interrupted Marcy to Geoff. "Now get out of my apartment!" "All right but you haven't heard the last of this," he said threatening her and to me he just called out, "You're a mad fucker." He left slamming the door behind him angrily. "Oh hell," I said very upset. "Now I'm for it!" "Don't worry he's just being a jerk," she replied giving me a cuddle. "Maybe he is but the cat is out of the bag now with regard to my family. It's going to be a nightmare to explain all this away." "I think that they'll get used to the idea," she replied just as my phone started ringing again. It was my mother. "Larry what's going on? Geoff just told me he's seen you and you were made up and dressed as a girl. That you've been on tv at the weekend as Brent's brolly girl on the grid too," she fired. "It's a long story but I was asked to help the team as Marcy was suffering from a sprained ankle and couldn't do it." I started to explain. "Larry you should have said no to that crazy notion. You're not gay are you?" "No Mum, I'm not gay! Marcy made me do this!" I complained. "Well if you are parading about in women's clothing and dressing up as Geoff says you can stay away from here," she replied not really listening. "You are not a sissy." "But Mum," I said only for the phone to go dead. "Dear God she hung up on me. She says I cant go home until I stop parading in female clothing." "I'm sorry," said Marcy. "I never realised that she would act like that." "Neither did I," I replied still feeling shocked. "We'll sort it out," Marcy promised. "I don't see how," I replied. "She was very angry. You better help me change how I look now." "After tomorrow I will," she said annoying me. "But Marcy you promised to reverse everything after Donington and here I am still cross dressed." "Look stop whining. If you were a real man you would have told me to get stuffed like Eddie and Joe would have done. Instead you put up no fight and allowed me to do what I liked to you. Now some days later not only have you done nothing about it to change yourself, I honestly think you actually like it regardless what you say. It's like it has given you an excuse to come out as the tranny you really are. Am I right?" "Oh that's very unkind of you. You threatened me with expulsion from the team if I didn't cooperate with your crazy scheme besides Joe and Eddie would have looked ridiculous dressed up the way I was," I replied. "Will you get me out of this now?" "No," she replied moving to the kitchen. "Why not?" I asked. "Because deep down you are transgender and you need to admit it to yourself." "Marcy please help me," I replied as tears started falling. "There, there Lara," she embraced me and kissed my head. "I sorry to be cruel to you but it's honestly for your own good that you admit it to yourself who and what you are now. "Well it looks like I'm well and truly screwed now," I replied as I shook my head in disbelief.