I feel that something else needs refueling.

As I'm driving out of the gas station, I become more and more fatigued. This kind of fatigue isn't from the rigorous training of the body but from the lack of solid material being digested in the stomach. As I glance at my body for a second after getting on the main road in the rest stop, I deduce that it would be bad for this body eating some greasy food that can be cooked in less than three minutes. I pass by the Jack-in-the-Box due to my experience with fast food. I'd rather wait for my food to cook than have it flash cooked.

One place that I can wait for my food to cook is at the typical diner. Denny's was on the sign before I came in and I drive around looking for it. I drive around the two motels to find out where I can stay for the night until I find the six-sided, six-cornered sign of Denny's. Its yellow light is a familar sight that would keep anybody from going insane.

I drive into the parking lot, but not without the occasional glance of customers and employees turning their heads away from their business and finding where the loud roar of a muscle car would be. Believe me but I can't help it if my car is as loud as a jet engine. It wasn't my choice to get a suped-up orange Barracuda in my hands.

I park in the parking lot but far away from potential lookers that might get the idea of investigating the little ruckus I make. I turn off the car and get out. By now my attire is becoming boring to wear and I try to find something to cover myself up with. I haven't tried the trunk yet and I possibly might find something that will both cover me up and reveal something about this body that has been bestowed to me.

I get out of the driver's seat and stand upon the asphalt. With the door still open, I bend down and pull a lever that releases the trunk. I pull it up towards me and a muffled thud is heard. I can clearly see the trunk of the Cuda ajar and released. I bend down again and reach for the keys in the ignitions. Pulling them out and standing up again, I close the open door. I walk around to the back but find that the rear end of the Barracuda is longer than I thought it would be. In the dark parking lot, I believe, concerning my positon and my car's position, anybody will have trouble navigating with no light source. I feel away upon the cold fiberglass to find the rear. I feel away until I touch the unleveled trunk that would feel leveled if it wasn't open. I lift the trunk and two small lights illuminate the trunk to let me see better.

I find two pieces of things that brings joy both to my mind and body. The first is a jacket with a faux-fur hood. This meaning that the rim of the hood is furry and fluffy and made with faux-fur. The darkness of the parking doesn't let me see colors but I can tell with these femael eyes that the color is a shade of brown. Once I lift it out of the trunk, the pair of things that it was covering is revealed. Under the jacket I just lifted up, I find a pair of stiletto high heels. When I lay my eyes on the heels, my woman side of my mind is joyous while the manly side of thinking is confused, almost to a point of being doubtful.

A fight brews within my mind but the victor is called after my hand involuntarily picks up the high heels. It seems that within this female body, the male mind inside my head has no authority over the womanly instincts and thinking. Instead of feeling bad that I'm in this body, possibly for the rest of my life, I start challenging myself at how long I can endure. I can say that it will probably easier and probably harder on my psyche.

Continuing on, once I pick up the heels I find a pair of folded jeans underneath. I pull that out also and go back to the driver's side of my car. I open the door and fold down the front seat to make room in the backseat to make use of a dressing room.

I'm weaing what looks like a track suit right now with a pair of worn-out sneakers with dirty laces. I close the door to keep the cold air of the night out and start undressing.

First I take off the sneakers as well as the socks which are soiled as well. When the socks come off, they reveal small, cute feet with itty bitty toes painted in red nail polish. Possibly the color red was meant for passion but I can't say for sure. Second I take off my track jacket and throw it upon the fluffy white, polar bear. I mutter something girly and silly out of my mouth but I ignore it while I uncover the bear from the track jacket. With the jacket off, a solid black shirt is revealed. I can't say for sure but when I feel upon my chest the breasts protruding out of it, I can say that I have a medium-sized rack. I can clearly say that my breasts aren't that big but I can say that a larger, manly hand can actually hold one my breast fully with not extra or no less flesh. I feel under the shirt what should feel like a lace brassiere, lifting and emphasizing the shape of my breasts.

I ignore this for now and insert my arms through the sleeves of the brown jacket with the faux-fur on the hood's rim. The jacket indeed is much warmer than the track jacket and it also make me feel sexy too, in a terribly weird way to say the least.

Next, I slip off my track pants and pile it over the discarded track jacket, minding to not carelessly toss it upon the polar bear but beside him. My exposed legs and skin feels the cool but warm air inside the Cuda and I can feel the material of the thong upon my slender and slim body. I can't say for sure what color it is but it sure is small and dark-colored. Maybe it's a matching color to my shirt, but I don't know for sure. I simple ignore the details again and continue to slip on the pair of jeans onto my legs. The size is a perfect fit, easily contouring to the shape of my legs, waist, and hips with amazing precision.

I find out that what is left to put on is the heels. I am frightened to walk in heels even though women make it look so easy. I probably will have to take it slow. I'd probably get embarrassed by saying this as a guy, but I have researched the proper way to walk in heels in my old life. Not because I was so freaky but I was curious in the ways of the opposite sex. Come to think of it, this curiousity is probably the reason why I am the opposite sex.

I slip on the heels onto my little feet and fasten the strap around my ankle. I make sure to grab my purse before leaving the car. I close the door, lock the car, and head for the Denny's. The How-To tutorial I found on how to walk in high heels is something easier said than done. Good thing, the parking lot is dark so that nobody will see me fall. Another thing is that the parking lot is newly paved with new asphalt.

The tutorial told me that women must first learn to stand on heels. When I'm standing, I feel calm and comfortable and feel like it's just plain easy to stand in heels. Now gaining my balance, I begin to try and sidestep as a stepping stone before I try walking fully. The tutorial told me to place one foot in front of the other as if I'm walking on a tightrope. I try to follow the instructions and place my right foot in front of my left foot and hope for the best.

Fortunately, my first step succeeds as well as the other forty as I walk towards the front door of the Denny's. So far so good. I get to the door and open it. Walking in, the hostess near the door is able to lead me to a vacant table immediately, seeing that most tables are empty. Once she leads me to a table I sit down and she immediately as me if I want anything to drink. I am not really craving anything that is either carbonated or brewed.

"Water, please," I say to the hostess, and she briefly leaves to fill a cup with water including ice, and comes back and places it on the table in front of me. With the cup of water, she places a menu in front of me and leaves me to decide on what I want to eat as a late dinner. I open the menu and search for a filling but not overfilling meal.

During my time pondering on what to eat, I get this gut feeling to observe the other customers in the diner. I wouldn't do it because I would get embarrassed but the feeling is so strong that I submit immediately. Since it's the late hours of the night, not many people are in the diner. Only two or three parties of people are seen. Nearest me is a man, probably four or more years older than me, dressed in a black-tie suit who sits at a far table situated in the corner. He is sipping a cup of coffee. He maybe just wants a cup of coffee or he may be waiting for his food to finish cooking.

The next party of people is sitting on the bar stools with their elbows upon the counter and their eyes glued to the television screen. The party consist of three patrons, two male and one female, dressed in leather biker outfits. They seem to be only chugging down beers. In fact, I did see three Harleys parked outside as I was walking towards the front door of the diner.

The last party of people is the most dense I've seen so far. Probably consisting of six or more black males dressed in either black or camo hoodies with chains hanging from their necks, the party is the loudest of the three in the diner. I can hear slang here and there in their conversation, but I don't think they noticed me come in, which is mostly a good thing. These men probably own the two black, lowered Lincoln Navigators with the chrome spinning wheels parking out front.

I finish my observation with a freaky last glance. After looking at the party of eight black males, I turn my head back to my menu. As I turn my head back I see the man in the corner glance back to his coffee as if he was just then looking at me. He does look suspicious but I ignore him. He does gives me a chance to glance at a specific meal listed under the seafood section.

Two minutes later, the hostess comes back with a notepad. "So what are you gonna be having this evening?" the hostess asks me, attentive having a pen ready in her right hand, the notepad in her left.

"I'll have the popcorn shrimp platter and I'll also have the mozzarella sticks, too," I tell her and she writes the orders down on her notepad.

"Would you like regular or seasoned fries, or would you like a different side?" she adds.

"I'll take the seasoned fries," I immediately say and she writes that order down as well on her notepad.

"Your food will be ready in a little while," she adds before leaving.