The Club Pt. 03


Chapter 4 Training

I awoke refreshed. I moved languidly and felt the nightdress move across my warm skin. It was delicious and I lost no time in stroking the fabric under the sheets and feeling my cock rise. I swished back the bedclothes and stood and stretched, my breasts thrusting out against the sheer black fabric. I looked at the nightie for the first time. It was actually quite plain and made of a shiny nylon style fabric that crackled when rubbed. I was just admiring myself in the full length mirror I had found on the inside of the wardrobe door when the lady came to my door, knocked politely and then came straight in. She smiled when she saw what |I was doing and patted my silky backside in an affectionate way.

"Today we start your fitness regime." "We need to reduce this." She patted my belly. She also stood very close to me and I felt my breast brush her shoulder. I didn't hesitate. I leaned forward very slightly and swivelled my hips so that the breast brushed her again. She didn't move and looked at me and smiled gently. Her hand lifted and stroked my right breast, caressed it. I heard her sigh gently and her eyes drifted down past my breasts even as she stroked one and her eyes dropped down to the tent appearing in my nightie. I felt her other hand stroke my erect cock through the slippery fabric. I moaned gently.

" It is soooo tempting.........enough! We have work to do and this will divert us!"

" Get naked, girl. Chop chop!" as she clapped her hands together.

Within minutes I was naked and barefoot wrapped in a towelling robe after a shower. At the lady's request, I was not feminised in any way although I was shaved and my boobs still glued in place. Indeed, they seemed permanent and I had got used to the slight pulling on my own nipples when they were unsupported. The glue used and the fineness of the skin coloured finish layer meant that one was hard put to tell that they were not real. They felt part of me and I was aching to grow my hair so that a wig would be unnecessary.

The lady led the way from my flat back to the barn. She was chatty this morning and told me a little about herself. Her name was Gina and to my utter surprise said she was a post op transsexual. She was partnered by Peter the man I had met and they provided horse riding facilities for the members of FemsRace and other visitors and that Peter was actually a neuter due to medical problems. Apparently, he still had tackle but it was shrivelled and didn't work for sex. Neither of them worked for or had any other dealings with FemsRace and neither was a member or visited the house. They had owned this farm/stables for about a year and I was by way of an experiment although the previous owners had left a great deal of tack behind when they sold up.

The barn was cold but smelt of horses and it was plain that their body heat was in the air. Through the door and into the tack room where Peter was waiting for us.

I looked at the tack table that Peter was standing behind and I saw with a tingle that the tack was human shaped. I was going to be a pony! I had often wondered about what that would feel like and my genitals twitched in anticipation as I descended into submission. I put my hands behind my back and parted my legs, dropped my head and went quiet. Peter and Gina noticed the change and both smiled warmly and caressed me, reassured me that all would be well.

At a spoken command I shed my robe and Gina folded it and put it on a bench at the side. Peter picked up a wide leather piece and with jingling of fittings he started the process of turning me into a human pony.

First was a leather belt which was basically two diamond - shaped panels of heavy leather with numerous buckles and straps. I held the front panel in place whilst Peter and Gina fastened it to the back panel at the waist and just under my bust with several straps and buckles. This was then steadily tightened until my paunch was squeezed flat. It was slightly uncomfortable. Leather cuffs were put on my forearms from wrist to elbow and tightened. At a gentle word, I put my arms behind me and heard them being clipped to the back panel. I was pinioned! They unclipped my arms again.

Next came a sort of leather sleeveless crop top. It had holes for my bust but did have a balcony bra cup built under each breast hole. The straps holding this top on were under my armpits and other straps were fastened to the belt panels and tightened.

Next I lifted each leg and Gina put what I thought were just panties up each leg. Near the top, I felt her insert my flaccid cock into a tight tube that seemed to be sewn into the front of the panties. As she pulled it up I felt my cock slide into the tube and back between my legs. At the same time my balls were encased in some sort of padding and squeezed tight to my groin. I later learned that this was a gaffe. It had a small buckle and strap round my waist just above the hip bone. Gina adjusted all this until it was snug. At the same time I felt two thin straps come down from my front diamond, go under my crutch either side of my mound and be fastened tightly to the rear diamondI looked down. The fabric was smooth with a smooth mound, just like a real woman.

Next was leather shorts buckled round the waist and thighs. Fastened to these shorts were four straps almost like suspenders. The buckles at the top end of these straps were fastened to straps hanging from the front and rear of the waist panels.

Next came the hoof boots. I inserted my left foot into the proffered leather tube and it was eased over my thigh muscle to just above my knee. My foot pointed into a pad and my heel and instep rested on a curved plate. Leather straps were fastened securely around my ankles and the top of the tube was fastened to the hanging straps from the shorts. With Peters support I balanced on this hoof whilst Gina encased my right foot in a similar hoof.

I was encouraged to walk about in these boots and I could feel my calf muscles protesting immediately. Nevertheless, after quite a short while, I found the extra sole print of the hooves quite easy to master and I grew used to the weight of them. I found that I adopted a sort of loping gait and it was always easier to run or trot in them than to walk slowly. The sound of the metal hooves on the ground was quite intoxicating.

After about five minutes of practising in the tack room with my new hooves and having partially mastered them at least enough to proceed with the rest of the pony gear.

Gina, to her credit, instead of issuing a command to 'come here', held out her hand and I saw a sugar cube on it. She then clicked her tongue and said " Here girl" in a quiet voice and smiled at me. I melted as I looked at these two people who seemed determined that I should enjoy the experience.

I clomped my hooves on the ground and whinnied gently, put my arms loosely behind my back and walked hesitantly over to the outstretched hand. As I bent my head to accept the sugar cube, I felt Peter clip my hands to my back.

I felt absolutely fabulous. The leather was soft and great care had been taken to make sure that none of the straps were pinching but all were tight enough to be restrictive but yielding when I moved.

I had no qualms when I saw Peter pick up the head harness. I was expecting this. I knew that once it was fastened, I would be completely at their mercy. I stood very still and trembled as the full head harness was fitted and the numerous buckles and straps were tightened. I felt the bit in my mouth and the two rings on my cheeks, the leather strap across my forehead, under my chin, down my cheeks, either side of my ears and even round my neck. There was a strap over my skull, front to back that carried on and fastened to my collar. This last one could be tightened to make me raise my head or risk being choked by the neck band. At this stage it was fairly loose but dipping my head was impossible once it was tightened so I would be unable to see where my feet were landing.

On the skull was a plume. The last accoutrement was my tail. Again I was expecting this but was puzzled as the leather shorts had been fitted first. I quickly discovered that there was a hole in the leather covered in some way by a flap and that my sissy panties also had a sealed opening.

I was bent forward over the tack room table which still had a lot of tack on it, presumably all for me, and I spread my hooves when asked. I felt a hand put lube on my arse crack and gently start to insert a pointed device there. I was unable to resist and it slid past my sphincter and travelled up inside me. It seemed to go up forever and I felt it hit my prostate and go up another inch. I felt my sphincter contract over a thinner section and heard buckles being fastened. I tried to expel it but it budged less than a quarter inch before sliding back up. My whole bottom felt completely full and I felt discomfort but was aroused by it. As my cock enlarged it too became uncomfortable in its prison. I could see that any form of arousal or sexual behaviour was going to be uncomfortable at the very least and possibly painful and, for the first time in my life, I fought to control my urges.

The stimulation from the butt plug and the massaging of my prostate every time I moved was going to be hard to bear. Then Gina or Peter let go of the tail attached to the butt plug and the silky threads brushed my thighs. I wriggled my body and felt the tail swish my legs as the butt plug moved. I felt a bead of cum spurt from my cock which was engorged and uncomfortable. I fought to contain my urges. If I didn't succeed I would be in a lot of pain or worse.

I felt drool on my chin as I salivated at the sensory overload. Peter and Gina stood back and watched me wrestle with all these conflicting emotions and get control.

Gina wiped the drool from my chin and I tried to thank her but when I realised that I could not, I whinnied softly and she smiled at me and caressed my cheek. At this moment I felt Peter attach the reins to my cheek rings and run them back through rings on my shoulders. Gina appeared at my front and fitted thin leather straps to my balconies on my breast plate and wrapped them over my breasts with a small T piece to a buckle just above the breast openings. These straps would prevent my tits bouncing. At the same time Peter attached large thick straps to my shoulders and left these dangling. Gina finally tightened my neck strap so that my head was lifted just slightly above normal. They stood back and admired their handiwork. There were no mirrors so I couldn't see myself but the look in their eyes suggested that I looked pretty good.

I spent the rest of the day pulling at a revolving beam, high stepping, running, trotting, unquestioning obedience to rein movements and generally exercising in my unyielding pony gear. I sweated profusely and my eyes stung from the salt. I felt my feet squelching in my hooves and some of the straps began to chafe. I of course, couldn't complain verbally so I tried to make my discomfort known to Gina or Peter by any other method that a horse would use so I learned to whinny piteously when I was hurt and keep silent when I was OK. They didn't use a whip to chastise me but I did feel a crop once or twice, particularly towards the end of the day when I was very tired and sore. They used lotions and creams on my sore patches and it seemed to work.

For most of the time, Peter and Gina were encouraging and praising me and I did so want to please them.

It was late afternoon when Peter called a halt. My pony gear was dismantled from my aching and sweaty body and Peter cleaned it and hung it up. I donned my robe and padded back to my flat alone. I showered, dried myself and without a second thought put my wig on and found and donned my nightie. In the kitchen, I found a ready meal and realised with a shock that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. The ready meal was microwaved and eaten in short order and I collapsed into bed and fell into a deep but very pleasant slumber.

Unbeknown to me, Peter and Gina came in to make sure I was alright and agreed that I was a model pony girl, checked to see that I was dressed in the nightie and smiled indulgently when they saw it all carefully arranged to minimise creasing, tucked me in and Gina bent over my pillow and kissed my forehead.

I might have dreamed that last bit but it felt good anyway.

This was the pattern of my days. Dressed in pony gear, exercising and being an obedient horse. At first I sweated profusely and was absolutely exhausted at the end of each day but soon enough I felt my muscles tauten and my body come alive. Gina and Peter regularly joined me in the evenings for a meal and I always prepared myself for them with full make up and wig. At some time without me knowing, a supply of really feminine underwear appeared in my drawers and I lost no time in donning it in the evenings even when I was alone. I even slept in it once or twice.

One day, looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed a small piece of my breast up by my shoulder was loose. I reported this to Gina and she told me that this was to be expected as the protein based glue used to attach them eventually bio degrades. True enough by the end of our pony session the tear was bigger and I noticed a bubble on the other shoulder. When I woke the following morning, both breasts were detached almost completely and shards of the glue were on my real chest. I noticed that my chest hair had grown back but was all curled up in balls and in some cases, formed a red spot where the hair had grown under the skin.

Gina summoned Peter who, I think telephoned the FemsRace house to ask what to do. Gina, meanwhile attended to the skin on my chest by picking off the skin over hair follicles, shaving my chest and applying a very soothing cream. I heard a car arrive and one of the women who had escorted me here came into my bedroom carrying a bag, upended it on the bed and proceeded to service my breast forms by cleaning them with a pungent solvent, disinfecting them and then attaching the clamps to my nipples and gluing the breasts back into place using a bottle of glue from the bag.

It felt heavenly to have the weight on my chest again. I felt naked without them and I fondled them gently. I suddenly realised that both Gina and Peter were still there and I blushed at my nakedness and my erotic gestures. They laughed at my mumbled apology and suggested that we cancel today's exercise session and go out for the day. It was only after I had readily agreed that I thought that I literally had nothing to wear except pretty underwear.

"That's OK" said Gina "I will have something that will fit you and we have been buying stuff for you for your new slimmer figure for some time."

I smiled at her and without a word opened a drawer and took out a clean Gaffe from my supply. I slid it up my legs and, with practised ease, put my cock in the tube and my balls in the pockets and adjusted the thin belt over my hip bones. All my gaffes were flesh toned so when I wore them the result was a smooth feminine mound. I had long since ceased to get erections from wearing feminine clothes but I still got a terrific endorphin kick from being ultra feminine and wearing fine underwear and clothing.

I stood up in my smooth skin and gaffe and my newly attached breasts swayed gently. I put my two hands in front of me and lowered my head. "I would like you to choose my outfit, Gina, in fact I would love that."

Gina rushed over to me and I swear I saw a small tear in the corner of her eye as she stroked my naked back and her shoulder brushed my breast and it swayed away from her touch and then leant on her. God, I wish they were real so I could feel her skin. I had to be content with the slight pull on my nipple from the clamp. I had a sudden urge to kiss her, sweep her off her feet and crush her lips with mine, remove her clothing and ravish her with my tongue. For the first time in ages, I felt my cock stir.

"Awww, There there. Of course I will." Her voice was husky with emotion and I saw Peter smiling indulgently over her shoulder. She pulled away.

"Right, come on girl, lets pick some threads for you. Underwear first" and she rattled some drawers.

Gina was true to her word. After helping me and coaching me in make up she left me donning a pretty matching bra and pantie set in a beautiful copper colour with off white lace trim. She had told me not to wear the suspender set as she 'had something special for me'.

When she returned she was bearing the most exquisite corset I had ever seen. A real proper boned waist corset covered in a floral patterned satin with a base colour of much the same copper colour as my pantie set. I wrapped this garment around my waist and fastened the busk with some help from Gina. I held it to me as she manoeuvred behind me and grasped the laces. She pulled and I felt the garment press against my skin. Gina spent the next five minutes adjusting and pulling the laces until my mid section was completely rigid and my breathing was coming in short gasps. When she finally wrapped the laces around my waist and tied them I was completely unable to bend and I could feel the restriction on the top of my hip bones and the lower half of my rib cage and I just knew my waist was much smaller by the feel of it.

Next, I sat on the bed and with great difficulty pulled stockings up my hairless and very smooth legs. I had spent hours putting creams and moisturisers on my skin and particularly my legs and was rewarded with the fabulous feel of sheer nylon on my tingling skin. I fastened one of the six suspenders dangling from the corset to the stocking tops and stood up to attach the others. I found that I now perched when sitting rather than lounged back like a man so that my corseted mid riff was always just over or behind my feet to avoid ungainly struggles to get upright. I attached the suspenders and adjusted their length. Two were literally over my arse cheeks and were really difficult to reach in my corset but I did manage it.

Next came a waist slip matching my underwear. Deliciously swishy and feminine. I became aware that I was constantly examining myself in the mirror, adjusting, smoothing, tweaking hems and waistlines. I looked at Gina and Peter and smiled and blushed at the same time.

Gina produced this fabulous skirt and blouse. The blouse was copper satin and quite loose fitting and the skirt was a lovely taupe fabric and lined; it fitted my waist perfectly and hugged my bum marvellously. I spent ages arranging the blouse and skirt, concentrating hard on my reflection, appraising my handiwork, trying to make the best of myself. I slipped a pair of ivory strappy shoes on my feet and felt my calves stretch to the 4 inch heels. I turned to Peter and Gina and said

" How do I look." I saw both of them look at each other and smile. " You look absolutely stunning, David. Absolutely......beautiful" I heard the catch in her voice and I saw Peter bite his lip and nod his head.

Although I was nervous at going out dressed, I genuinely felt that I could pass for a woman and that only the very discerning male or female would spot the deception. Certainly, I was aware that I was wearing and using the very best of everything and that that made a big difference both to my appearance and my confidence. I could recall quite clearly my previous life, my male callousness bred of countless uncaring moments and the slow creeping disappointment of marriage and family life. For the first time in many a year I felt alive, reborn and with a fresh approach. I had also met some really nice people such as Peter and Gina and my experiences in the FemsRace house had made me more thoughtful about what was happening to me.

I walked to Peter's car with Gina chatting and laughing. I felt my skirt brush my nylons and I picked my way carefully and daintily to the car and manoeuvred myself gently into the seat as Peter held the door open for me. While I was arranging my skirt and checking to make sure that not a speck of dust had landed on me during the ingress, I heard Gina climbing into the car and Peter making sure that she was comfortable. Hearing Gina's seat belt click reminded me to do the same.

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