Ever since I was a kid, I was something of a thrill seeker. I was only twelve years old when I found the joy of driving cars and only three months after to get into my first car accident, but that didn’t do anything to quell my newfound love of racing, a love that stuck with me into adulthood. Working at a grocery store, I found that street racing was an excellent way to supplement my income. I quickly gain a reputation as someone with guts, willing to go all the way for a win. It was that reputation that earned me an invite to an exclusive racing club. It had no official name, but they raced for what they called “slips or slits”.
The majority of these races were for pink slips, meaning the winner would get the loser’s car, a risky but potentially lucrative prospect. Every week, there would be at least one “pink slits” race. These were the main events as the prize for winning and the punishment for losing was far more dire. Instead of the car, the drivers’ masculinity was on the line. The winner would absorb all of the masculine essence from the loser, enhancing his male features in every way, including his sexual prowess. The loser’s body would then be flooded with feminine essence, transforming them into women in every way save for their mind. They and the other members of the club would remember who the loser was before the race, but in the eyes of the rest of the world, the loser was born a female, reality shifting to accommodate their new identity.
The loser could still race for slips or petition for a redemption race. In this race, the transformed racer can regain their male form by absorbing the masculine essence of their opponent along with any enhancements their opponent may have gotten. However, should they lose, their mind would be altered to become the winner’s perfect slave. They would no longer be members of the club but still accompany their masters to club events, their only purpose in life to look pretty and please their man.
It was my fourth club event when I decided to sign up for a pink slits race. I was undefeated in my pink slips races with a record of 3-0. I figured it was time to experience the thrill of the main event and didn’t have a place to store another car anyways.
I readied myself at the starting line, revving my engine, ready to put my car into gear as soon as the flag was waved. My heart was pumping faster than I thought possible, adrenaline pumping through my veins like never before. The flag was waved, and I punched it into gear.
Like all drag races. It was intense but over quickly. My heart sank as I crossed the finish line with my opponent’s taillights in view. I had lost by more than a car length. I pulled into the staging area next to my opponent, a crowd gathering around, chanting. I was familiar with the chant. It was the same I heard and even joined in on at prior events. The chant was the catalyst for the spell that would transform us. I waited in nervous anticipation for the changes to occur.
I didn’t feel the change as it happened. It was as though I had blinked and the changes were done. I stepped out of the car to inspect myself and to present my new form to the club. I was met with the usual chorus of cheers and cat calls that came with any new girl being presented. I found I was able to get out with ease despite the six inch platform heels I was now wearing. I looked down to examine myself and noticed the long brunette hair falling into my field of vision. I found that I was now wearing a tiny red dress that could only be described as being skimpy.
I looked across to my opponent, who emerged from his vehicle looking a good deal more muscular than he had before, his white t-shirt stretch taut over his bulging pecs. He raised his hands above his head in victory as the club members cheered. His eyes met mine, and he began to circle around the cars towards me. I knew what was coming next as I had witnessed it a number of times before. To complete the spell, the victor would fuck the loser until he came effectively sealing the channel through which the essence was transferred.
Perhaps it was part of the spell, but I found myself calmly bending myself over the hood of my car, dropping the lacy red g string I now wore to the ground around my feet. My opponent entered me rather unceremoniously, making it all the way to the hilt in one powerful thrust. The mixture of pain and pleasure was indescribable. As he began to move, pistoning in and out of me I wondered just how big he was as it felt like I was going to be split in half.
When he finally came, he groaned loudly, which was met by another round of cheers from the club members. The spell was done, and the fact that I had lost was finally starting to hit home. I probably would have petitioned for a redemption race right then and there, if a couple of my friends I had made in the club hadn’t talked me out of it.
That was six months ago, and I was glad I heeded my friends’ advice. I found life as an incredibly beautiful woman to not be as bad as I feared, and unlike most of the other feminized club members, I was beginning to actually enjoy it. I found that in my new life, I no longer worked at the grocery store but worked as an amateur model. Up to the point I had been transformed, I had only done simple things like women’s clothing catalogues and jewelry. However, it didn’t take long for me to become bored of this, and I quickly found myself seeking out modeling jobs that could fulfill my need for excitement. I found my calling in nude and semi-nude photo shoots. The thrill of exposing my most private areas to the camera for all the world to see was almost more than I could handle. I found myself taking every opportunity I could to expose myself to the camera.
I still go to club events and enter slip races every now and again. That is where I got the hot ride I am posing in front of in this photo shoot. A few of the members have even been suggesting that I petition for a redemption race, no doubt salivating over the idea of me as their slave, but that’ll never happen. Looking back, losing that race was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.
