He set the sticky-soled shoes to the side. He would not need them, much like about half of the other competitors in this race. Their padded feet gripped the track just as well as rubberized soles, if a bit more painfully. It was worth it; it was livelihood. A rare thing for most of them.

The booming nasal twang of the announcer over buzzy loudspeakers gave the fox anthropomorph extra speed. He unhooked the binder from his chest. Woefully, it would only hinder his performance though it had ensured he would get this far. Thankfully the breasts underneath were already quite small, shrunk down to a tolerable size with the bi-yearly treatments. But still there was such risk in this. Someone might see. And if someone might see, someone might scowl.

Les stowed the garment in his locker, underneath a cardboard slat that he weighed down with the unneeded shoes. He breathed a moment, extinguishing nervous fires and feeding the muscles he would need. The buzzy announcer's voice made a final call for competitors to arrange on the starting line. The fox strutted out, the baggy tanktop emblazoned with the paper race number concealing the inoffensive secret that, if discovered, would make his life as an athlete a mere shattered dream.

^w^; Tiny segment of a story I'm working on in Anthropomorphisms, featuring Lester. He's not shown up yet though I've had his character for over a year. Quite obviously, he has made his way up as a professional track athlete, though not without grave challenges. And oddly enough, the biggest threat to his dreams is his own toned and trained body, a set of chromosomes he simply cannot alter and a few vestiges of an old appearance that should (in a perfect world) no longer chain him with assumptions and associations. Yet, they still do... but only if revealed. He is determined to keep them secret from those of his world.

And of course, sketch to illustrate it. :D