His Aunt Nicole

[Simonssister]

Chapter 201.

Miss Poole stood looking down at the cringing boy for nearly a minute.  Then she turned to Ellie.
“On second thoughts I don’t trust this one.  We’ll keep him here tonight.  Collar him now and chain him to that ring.  Leave him some food and water overnight.  You’ll find the hay very comfortable, boy.  Get used to it.  If this sort of behaviour recurs, you’ll be spending more nights in here.  Ellie, set him to work as soon as you come in tomorrow.  Make him clean some of the younger girls’ boots – teach him his place.  When Cynthia arrives help her with the fitting, would you?”
“Yes, Miss Poole.  What time should we expect her?”
“I’ll tell her she can come as early as she likes.  Then his training can be a full dress rehearsal.”
Ellie smiled evilly.  “Yes, miss!  A sneak preview!  The girls will be so excited.”
“And I want him in the storage space underneath the seating in the main arena by three.  I’ll talk to you about that later.  Please pop into reception on your way home and I’ll come out.”
“Yes, miss.”

So it was that by six-thirty that evening Timothy found himself sitting on a haybale with a leather-covered steel collar buckled and padlocked around his neck, attached by a long chain to the tethering ring bolted to the wall, with a pizza and a bottle of water on a tray at his feet.  But he wasn’t hungry – yet, anyway.  He took a swig of water and reflected on his fate.
“’Ow did I get myself into this mess?”  He lay down and stared up at the boarded wooden ceiling.  “What are these guys?  What right has that woman…?  This!”  He shook his chain.  “Is this even legal?  But what can I do?  They’ve got them pictures of me…and I signed that stupid contract thing…  Damn it!”  He frowned and scratched his head.  “And that aunt of Bobby’s…  That girl in the hood…  What goes on there…?”

It was just as well he didn’t know.  That day, Kaiya and Barbara had been taking Chantal Hunniford to see Nicole for a training session, Chantal’s first.  Not that Chantal needed much training.  For the girls’ purposes, she was a natural.  She had settled in immediately in the girls’ new flat, eager to please - and satisfy - them, and happy to go along with anything they may think up.  She had her own little bed at the foot of their double, and Nicole had lent them a smart little steel cage for when her natural playfulness needed to be curtailed, and had arranged a visit to Fantastex from which she returned with a couple of rather nice outfits.  The previous week they had held a party for some friends, at which Chantal, clad in one of those outfits, was the main attraction.  With her slim, lithe body, sheathed in a black latex catsuit fitted with solid rubber cat paws, and with a tight black latex hood framing her face, her black ponytail supported by a flange at the back, bouncing as she moved, she looked disarmingly sweet and innocent.  Her appearance was enhanced by stick-on cat-ears, and the whiskers and nose-spot painted on her face, below her natural prominent jet-black eyebrows.  She had been instructed not to speak throughout the whole party – but she could miaow and purr and make appropriate cat noises.  This was despite the fact she was fitted with an internal remote-controlled egg-shaped vibrator controlled from Barbara’s phone.  She had been warned that if she forgot herself to the extent of uttering even a syllable, she’d spent the next two days in her cage.  But she was a self-disciplined pussy cat, and in the event made her mistresses proud. 
The guests were two couples: Christine and David (married, in their thirties), and Macey and Jeff (dating, around 20), whom the girls knew from work and college respectively.  Chrstine was Barbara’s manager at the office where she worked part-time, and David was some sort of accounts manager in the same firm.  They’d met at a Christmas party.  Kaiya knew Jeff from college, where, being slightly younger than Barbara, she was still full-time.  Christine had taken Barbara under her wing at once, partly from protectiveness, but mainly because she wanted someone to share the secrets of her love-life, and perceived right away that Barbara was the broad-minded type.  It had been a month since she took her into her confidence.
“Babs, guess what?  That bastard David.  You know that new girl in accounts?  Yes, the pretty one.  He couldn’t bloody help himself, could he?  How old is she?”
“Dunno.  Could be nineteen…  Could be younger.”
“Right!”
“Have they…?”
“Don’t think so.  And they’re not gonna.  I gotta go.  Ring you tonight, okay?”
“Okay.”

It turned out Christine had dealt with the problem in a most practical way.  Under threat of filing for divorce, she had forced him to let her fit him with a chastity device – a super-secure steel one, so there could be no messing with it – as a “forty-eight hour” punishment.   But then she’d refused to release him, until she’d reduced him to a blubbering, pleading wimp; which she liked so much, she decided to prolong his enforced impotence for an indefinite period.  Now she had the upper hand, she was up for a bit of fun herself.  She and David were the first to arrive, and he stopped as if he’d been shot when he laid eyes on Chantal, sitting like a cat beside her cage apparently licking her paws and washing her ears!  His mouth fell open and he stared at her stupidly, uncomprehending.
“Oh, look David!  What a cute little pussy-cat!” squealed Christine, who had been forewarned of Chantal’s appearance, and was determined to make the most of his discomfort.  “You like cats, don’t you?  Go give her a stroke…  Go on!”
“David…   Take a seat…right here.”  Still shell-shocked, he allowed Barbara to push him into an armchair.  “Pussy?  Would you like to sit on David’s lap?”
“No…”  David went to rise, but Chantal was quicker, and jumped up onto his lap.  She proceeded in true feline fashion to make herself comfortable by kneading him with her paws, not sparing the little hard lump between his thighs, until he was squirming and gasping, and Chrstine was almost wetting herself with amusement.  When after a few minutes Chantal decided to jump down, poor David was left red-faced, breathless and distressed.  Christine smiled with satisfaction.
Jeff and Macey were equally gobsmacked, but quickly recovered and fell to their knees stroking and petting her while she purred and mewed appreciatively, and rubbed her head on their arms. 

Once all the initial excitement had dissipated, and they had all been introduced, and were sitting around chatting and congratulating the girls on their new pet, Chantal herself started showing off.  It hadn’t taken Barbara and Kaiya long to discover her kinks.  As well as loving to play the role of pet, to be the girls little slave-girl, she was addicted to attention.  For her, sex was only really exciting if she was being watched.  That was why she had enjoyed that first session with the girls at her mother’s party so much.  So she couldn’t resist the temptation to jump up onto a chair, thence onto the table, and lie down.  This was Barbara’s cue to turn on her vibrator, and soon she was purring loudly, and rolling and squirming in undisguised arousal, much to the fascination of the guests.  But by the time they seated themselves for lunch, she had climbed down and was prowling about their feet.  Then she disappeared under the table…

[Simonssister]

Chapter 202.

They were well into the salad when Christine gave a little gasp and sat up straighter in her chair.  She was seated alone at one end of the dining table.  She looked questioningly at Barbara.
“Oh, pussy’s playing about, is she?  Just ignore her Chrissie.  Don’t worry, she never claws anyone.  Relax.”
Chrstine could feel one of Chantal’s latex ears tickling her calf.  Then a moment later, a soft warm tongue just below her knee, and her head pushing between her knees.  She continued with her salad, talking to Macey in between bites about the problem of finding reasonably well-educated staff.
“I was so glad when Babs here joined us.  I hope she stays, but I know it’ll be difficult to hang onto someone as talented as…”  She broke off.  She had so far been able to ignore the distractions under the table, but now Chantal’s head was pushing between her thighs, forcing her to open her legs wider than seemed proper.  She felt Chantal’s tongue exploring the inside of her thigh.  She was beginning to feel rather excited, but alarmed at the same time, especially as she was wearing only a lightweight thong under her skirt.  What in the world was that girl up to…?
She soon found out.  Chantal’s black ears appeared from beneath the tablecloth, and Chantal’s white teeth fastened themselves on Christine’s thong.  Then the ears withdrew, and shortly after the thong followed, sliding down Christine’s things and over her knees.  Macey was asking her a question, but what it was she wasn’t sure.  She needed to remain calm and controlled.  She gave Barbara a severe look, but only received a quick, smug smile in return.
“Christine?”
“Sorry, Macey.  I was thinking of something else…”
“Recruitment.  What’s your policy?”
“Recruit…?”
Chantal’s head was between her knees again, pushing forward gently but firmly.  What should she do?   She felt Chantal’s tongue again, on the other thigh this time, inches from her bare pussy.  She began to stammer.
“I-I…er, we…you know…like, our pussyly…I mean policy…policy, yes…”
Jeff laughed.  “Yes, where is pussy?  Is she still…?”
He went to lift the edge of the cloth, but Kaiya, sitting next to him, touched his hand.
“Leave her, Jeff.  She just likes to play under the table.  It’s her little house – when she’s not in her cage.”
“Oh.”  He laughed.  “I see.  I hope she comes out soon.  I’d like to stroke her again…”
“I bet you would,” said Macey, sarcastically.
Christine’s thighs were wide apart.  She was utterly exposed.  She was vacillating between pretending nothing was happening, and thinking of jumping up under the pretext of visiting the toilet.  But at that moment Chantal’s tongue sought and found its destination.  As the warm tip slipped between her lips, Christine froze.  She couldn’t believe this was really happening.  She’d been holding back, but now in an instant her defences collapsed, and she gave in to her basest desires.  She dabbed her mouth with her napkin to disguise her arousal.  Another soft thrust of Chantal’s little tongue, and she felt the pent-up juices flow out of her.  Chantal must have been pleased, because she began to lap them up greedily.  Christine opened up like a flower bursting into bloom.  She coughed and spluttered into the napkin, but kept her legs open, and even slipped a hand surreptitiously behind Chantal’s head.  She was aware everyone was looking at her, but her eyes were swimming now, and she was panting openly.
“Are…are you all right, Chrissy…?” asked Macey, concerned.
“Y-yes…I’m fine….don’t worry about…oh, god…don’t worry about me…I….I…”
“Oh, it’s that naughty pussy,” remarked Kaiya, matter-of factly.  “She just can’t resist…”
The other guests stared.  Realisation dawned.  The food was forgotten for the moment,  All eyes were on the semi-conscious Christine, eyes closed, head swaying, at the head of the table.
“Oh, fuc-k…don’t stop…please…” she moaned, caressing the smooth latex hood, and gripping the little flexible cat ears.  A soft, contented miaow emanated from below.
“She just loves licking pussy,” continued Kaiya.  “You can imagine why we enjoy having her as a pet so much.  She can’t seem to get enough.  I’m sure she won’t want to leave you out, Macey, when she finished with Christine.”
“Really?” said Macey, vacantly, without taking her eyes off Christine.
“Does she only like…you know…ladies?” asked Jeff, agitated.
“Oh, no.  She’s always talking about coc-k, it's true, but as yet…well, that will be a special treat at some point…”
Jeff swallowed hard.  He had turned white.  David looked on the point of fainting.  Macey opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, Christine cried out, and grabbed the tablecloth so hard she dragged the dishes across the table.  Chantal was now dividing her attention between the open, oozing lips and the swollen clitoris.
“fuc-k…fuc-k!  I’m c-umming!  Oh, fuc-k….!”  She jerked backwards, jolting the table, then threw her head back as spasm after spasm shook her body.  It was a full minute before her orgasm began to subside, during which no-one was conscious of anything else – though Barbara, expecting no less, recorded the episode on her phone “for posterity”, as she afterwards said.
As Christine finally slumped in her chair, flushed and gasping, and Chantal retreated unostentatiously beneath the table, Kaiya winked at her friend.  “One down,” she whispered.

[Simonssister]

Chapter 203.

It wasn’t the end of the party.  It wasn’t even the beginning of the end.  But it may have been the end of the beginning.  Be that as it may, it is necessary for the moment to return to the present, and to the Pitt’s Wood Show.  And a dry, sunny day forecast.  The staff had been hard at work since before six that morning.  The jumps course had been laid out in the big paddock, the dressage area had been raked smooth, the judges chairs placed in the middle of the seating area.  Outside reception, down the far side of the field, and in the show area itself, stalls were being set up – everything from tack and equipment from the big retailers to pictures to gifts to charity stalls, from Pony Club and BHS stands to stalls selling food and drink of every sort you could imagine.  There was an air of fervid excitement everywhere, and in the quieter areas nervous competitors, beautifully turned out in full riding habits, polishing tack or grooming their mounts.   And in stable 13, Timothy was already working hard.  Supervised by Ellie and Jasmin, he was employed polishing the boots of some of the junior entrants, who were allowed in in groups of two or three, whilst outside there was a queue of a dozen or more.  A wooden chair had been placed in the middle of the stable, in front of which Timothy, wearing knee-pads, knelt with his brushes, cloths and polishes next to him, diligently bringing the boots to a hazy shine.  He was still tethered to the wall by his chain, having been released only temporarily for a toilet break.
“You’ll notice the younger ones normally wear rubber boots,” remarked Ellie, “ which makes it easy for you.  You can wipe them with a damp rag and polish with the rubber polish, and they look great.  It’s too expensive for girls who are growing so fast to wear leather.  Rubber’s much cheaper, and it looks just as good.  Timmy!  You missed the heel!  Come on, boy – get with it.  If Miss Poole finds out…”
“Okay, okay!  I’m sorry.  There, I’ve done it now.  Don’t make such a fuss!”
“Don’t answer back!”  She gave him a gentle smack with her whip, making the girls giggle.  “Every boot is important.  If you start skimping with some of the professionals you’ll get in big trouble.  They won’t stand carelessness or inefficiency.  And you call me miss, right?  In fact, you call all your customers miss or madam.  It’s basic courtesy.” 
The girl whose boots he had been polishing got up and made for the door.
“Thank you…Timmy!” she smirked as she exited.
“Thank you…miss…”
Cue more giggles.  Ellie waved his next customer into the chair, and called another girl in from outside, who watched smiling whilst he continued with his work. 
This was not at all how he had imagined it.  He had thought he would be a respected, skilled technician.  But this was downright humiliating, being sneered and giggled at by a bunch of little girls.  Where were all these professionals Ellie was talking about?  He had seen them around in the Centre – tall, beautiful women, immaculately turned out in cream breeches, not a wrinkle in sight, and lovely gleaming leather riding boots – proper ones, with raised sides and laces and little silver spurs…  Just wait till he had the chance to work with them.  Then he’d show them how good he was.  They were bound to be impressed…  Maybe he’d get to date one of them, even.  He sighed.  Well, at least he didn’t have to wear that silly superhero outfit today.  That would have been purgatory.

The thought was hardly out of his mind when there was a knock at the open door, and there stood Cynthia, holding a shiny pink overnight bag.
“Hello?  I’m Cynthia from Fantastex.  Ellie is it?”
“Hi.  Yes I’m Ellie.  This is Jasmin.”
“Miss Poole told me to come early.  Can we do Timmy’s fitting in here?”
Timothy’s heart sank.  Please no, not here…
“Of course.  Timmy, when you’ve finished Imelda’s boots I’ll ask the others to wait while Cynthia does the fitting.”
“But…”
“Shush.  Get on, please.”

Ten minutes later Jasmin shut the door, and she and Ellie stood to one side and watched gleefully as Cynthia stripped him and handed him his outfit piece by piece.  First the superhero pants, which she lubed carefully while he stood, quite naked, covering himself with his hands.  She handed them to him, he turned his back, and this time, in his embarrassment, he couldn’t get them on quick enough.  They felt snugger than before, but perhaps it was his imagination.  The lube made them slip against his skin whenever he moved.  Next his calf-length boots, with raised fronts embellished with letter “T”s, his gloves, which were shorter and more close-fitting than the original ones, and his crop top with its big “T”.   Cynthia helped him to tie his cape, which now came only half way down his back.
“I think this looks nicer.  It won’t get in the way while you’re working, and it won’t interfere with the view of your cute little bum!”
“Oh no,” cried Jasmin, delighted, “everyone needs to see your cute little bum!”
And she and Ellie dissolved in mirth.
Finally, Cynthia produced his baseball cap – red vinyl, with “BOOT BOY TIMMY” across the front in yellow letters.
“There.  You look smashing.  And the alterations are perfect.  What do you think, girls?”
“Ooh, you look gorgeous, Timmy!” cooed Ellie, satirically.  Wait till the girls see you.”
She strode to the door and opened it.  “Ooh, quite a queue…”
“No!” squealed Timothy.  “Wait!  I have to change back before…”
But it was too late.  Ellie had already called in the first three.  Aghast, Bobby tried to flee to the bathroom section.  But he was firmly arrested by his chain.  He turned, helplessly, his face the picture of despair.  The three young girls gaped, then screamed in unison.  The first made a dash for the chair, and just claimed it ahead of the others.  They stared at him, their faces studies in disbelief.  He went to turn his back on them, but Ellie turned him back firmly and knelt to strap on his knee-pads.
“Stand still, Timmy.  These poor girls have been waiting outside for a while now, and you’ve got a lot more to attend to.  Won’t be a minute girls.  What are your names?”
“I’m Soria.”
“I’m Deborah Cresswell.”
“I’m Felicity Bell,” said the one sitting in the chair.
“Well, Felicity Bell, you’ll be the first one to have your boots polished by our newest Boot Boy in his very first outfit.  Timmy’s only just joined us, haven’t you, sweetie?  He’s very excited about his superhero costume.  I hope you like it as much as he does…”
“Oh, it’s gorgeous!” cried Felicity.  “He looks so handsome in it!”
“Gosh, yes,” nodded Soria, seriously, looking him up and down. 
“I love it,” added Deborah.  “Timmy…?  What’s it made of?  It sort of looks like…you know…”
“It’s one hundred percent latex,” interjected Jasmin.
“Yes,” said Cynthia proudly, “in fact, it’s the finest quality latex on the market.  Very stretchy and comfortable, but extra strong and tear resistant.  Why don’t you girls go and feel it?”
“Don’t worry, Felicity,” smiled Ellie.  “Your next.  You won’t lose your place.”
To his utter mortification Timothy had to stand there while the three girls surrounded him, touching and tugging and even sniffing at the latex.
“It has that nice rubber smell,” cried Soria, “just like balloons.”
“Even the little frills are latex,” marvelled Felicity.
“It looks so sexy,” giggled Deborah.  “I wish all boys has to wear things like this!”

Ellie gave them a minute, then asked Felicity to get back in the chair.
“We’d better get on.  You’ve got a lot more customers waiting, Timmy.”
“Yes, miss.”  He sank to his knees.  Felicity’s boots looked brand new, and he soon had them gleaming.
“Thank you Timmy.  I’m going to come and visit you again soon.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, what, Timmy?”
“Thank you, Miss Felicity…”
“Good boy.  Now let’s get a move on, shall we?”
As he embarked upon the next pair of boots, he could hear Felicity outside spreading the news to her friends, and the little whoops and gasps of surprise from those waiting in the queue.  It was going to be a long day…

[Simonssister]

Chapter 204.

Little did Timothy know, but not far from where he was working, in the waiting-room of the new boot parlour at the end of the new stable-block, his friend was preparing himself for the dressage demonstration.  MĂ©lisande was going over their routine, making sure he was comfortable with everything.  They had already been to view the big arena, and some people had already taken their seats, even though the programme didn’t start until twelve - the morning being set aside for the gymkhana and children’s events in the junior arena.  Nicole, Clarissa and Cynthia were sitting chatting over coffee.  Cynthia had brought Bobby’s new pony suit, which as yet he hadn’t even seen, zipped up in a big canvas bag.
“It should last him for some years, if necessary,” she was saying, in an undertone.  “We’ve designed new hooves – solid wood, painted black – with light metal horseshoes which bolt on, just like a real pony.  But the great thing is, now we can add height when necessary.  We’ve made little risers, about an inch thick, that can be bolted on to the hooves to raise the height of his body in increments.  Which means we won’t have to worry about Mellie getting taller.”
“That great, Cynthia.  You’ve thought of everything,” said Nicole, enthusiastically.
“I hope the suit fits him well.  It should do.  I’ve made a small allowance for growing-room, but I think he’s pretty much stopped growing now.  Anyway, this latex is thick, but it’s got a good stretch if needed.”
“Getting it on him won’t be a problem?”
“Oh, no.  It’s got a super-gloss interior, and I’ll use plenty of lube.  Oh, by the way, you know Ellie’s been put in charge of the boot boys, right?”
“Yes.  Miss Poole told me.  She’s perfect for the job.  Doesn’t take any nonsense.”
“Clarissa, I gather you’re going to talk to Ellie about outfits and so on.”
“Yes, that’s right.  I’ll help her at first, but hopefully she’ll take over after a couple of weeks, and she’ll decide what they wear and when, though I’m going to help with cleaning and washing and lubrication.  Oh, and I see you now have two types of lube, Cynthia.”
“Yes, green and pink – and there are others, but these will be all she needs for the time being.  I was about to explain.  You need to be very careful..  I’m giving her supplies of the standard pine-scented green one, but also the rose-scented pink one.  The pink one’s a stim-lube.  You can guess what that means.  Miss Poole explained to me that at some point there’ll be customers who want someone a little more…shall we say, interesting…than the standard service.  They’ll be issued with special tickets with a pink heart in one corner, and there’ll be a pink heart next to their bookings on the daily schedule.  They’ll pay more, of course.  But in those cases Ellie will need to use a little of the pink lube to ensure the boys, er, put on a good show, if you get my meaning…”
“Oooh…”

There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” called Nicole.
The door opened and Miss Poole slipped in.  “Didn’t want to disturb you, but I just wanted to check everything’s going all right?  Any problems?”
“Everything’s fine, thank you Miss Poole.  Isn’t it, guys?”
“Yes, Miss Poole,” piped up MĂ©lisande.  “We’re all ready.  Aren’t we, Bobby?”
Bobby looked a little nervous.  “Y-yes…  I hope it goes as well as in rehearsal…”
“Oh, I’m sure it will, Bobby,” said Miss Poole reassuringly.  “Don’t worry too much.  If you do nothing more than trot around I’d be happy.  That alone would probably be enough to cause a sensation!  So please, just relax and enjoy yourself.”
“I will, Miss Poole.  But I’ll be relieved when it’s over and I can concentrate on my job.”
“Oh, yes.  You start Monday, don’t you?  Are you looking forward to it?”
“Very much, thank you.”
Bobby’s feelings were different from those of his friend.  Once he had reconciled himself to his role as official Pitt’s Wood Boot Boy, and made a virtue of necessity, his naĂŻve vanity had taken hold, and he imagined he would become an object of admiration for his customers, and the heart-throb of the Centre for all those pretty young women he would get to serve.  He had wallowed in all the attention he had received at MĂ©lisande’s birthday party; any lingering doubts had been quite washed away.  Miss Poole was eager to keep it that way, and let it be known amongst the staff that he and Timothy must always be treated with respect, never ridiculed, and that compliments would always be welcome.  She had further instructed Evelina to convey a similar message to outside buyers of tickets, on pain of being excluded from future sessions.
“Oh, Violet – while I think of it…”
“Yes, Nicole?”
“Bobby’s been invited to be a pageboy at a friend’s wedding on November the eighth – that’s a Saturday.  Would it be possible to…?”
“Of course, Nicole.  I’ll schedule that as a day off.”  She checked her phone.  “Ah, yes, Saturday the eighth…done.  Lucky boy, Bobby.  Do you have an outfit?”
“Yes, Miss Poole – red and white!  It’s really cool.  All my friends think it’s super smart!”
“Wonderful!” she cried, ignoring Nicole’s wink.  “I’m sure you’ll be the beau of the ball, as it were…  But I must get back.  Good luck, you two.  I can’t wait to see your show!”
Bobby looked at MĂ©lisande excitedly.  “Miss Poole’s nice, isn’t she?  I feel much more calm now.”  He turned to Nicole.  “Aunt?  Are all the girls coming to Deborah’s wedding too?”
“Of course, darling.  They wouldn’t miss it for anything.  They’ll all be there - even your new friend Miki’s coming.”
“Really?”  His eyes lit up, but at the mention of Michaela’s name MĂ©lisande scowled.  That bitch was the only fly in the ointment.  What was she up to?  She could see she wasn’t wanted, but she persisted in hitting on him.  She would have to come up with a plan…
But Bobby’s smile had suddenly faded.  “I hope Bethany and Natasha…”
“I’m afraid they’re bound to be there…”
“Damn.”
“Just ignore them…  Now.  What about some lunch?  Then we should think about getting you ready.  You need to be all suited and tacked up in the arena undercroft by three forty-five latest.  The dressage finals are scheduled for four, and should be over by half-past.  What’s that look for?  You’re not getting stage fright, are you?”
“No, aunt.  I just hope no-one recognises me…”
“Don’t worry about that, silly…”  She exchanged wary looks with MĂ©lisande, who had seen his new hood, and was slightly nervous about how he might react.  But she had her new whip, and she was confident she could maintain control.
“No, Bobby, don’t worry.  How could that possibly happen…?”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 205. 

At around three, Clarissa, Cynthia and Nicole were making their way between the two lines of stables and heading for the main arena.  Cynthia carried her large canvas bag.  Bobby and MĂ©lisande followed behind, MĂ©lisande with her own bag containing tack and her riding clothes.  The car park and the overflow car park were both full.  There was a little funfair and a bouncy castle on the main field.  The place was seething, and periodically cheers and gasps erupted from one or other of the arenas.  The stalls were busy, too – a lot of people, especially families, had come not for the horses, but just for a fun Saturday.  A lot of people were carrying programmes, and  MĂ©lisande, by dint of maintaining a conversation with Bobby, contrived to distract him from the gaudy back cover.

The programme in the main arena was well under way.  As they approached they could hear the cheers, gasps and cries of disappointment as the riders performed.
“That must be the showjumping,” remarked Clarissa.
In the outer wall of the arena was a little door.  Nicole produced a key, and was turning it in the lock, when there was a cry from behind her.
“Mellie!  Hi!  Where you going?”
Amelia was running towards them, followed by Charlotte.  Behind them their mothers were also approaching.
MĂ©lisande’s face lit up.  “Hi!  I hoped I might see you.  Where did you get those?”
The girls were both holding balls of candyfloss on sticks.
“Hi Bobby!  Hi Mrs Burlington.  Just by the fair.  But what are you doing?  What’s that door?”
“Oh, it’s…er….”  But she was interrupted by the arrival of the girls’ mothers.
“Clarissa…  Hi.  This is great…”
“Hello Bethany…Natasha…  Yes.  It’s so busy.  It really is a great success, isn’t it?”
“Mummy?” cried Charlotte, “can we play with Mellie for a bit?  We haven’t seen her for ages!”
“Yes, can we?” added Amelia, eagerly.
“Well…” began Natasha.
Clarissa looked embarrassed.  “Well, it’s just that…you know, we were just about to…”
“Why not?” said Nicole.  “Yes, let them come with us.  We’re going on an adventure, girls.  Want to come along?”
She opened the door, revealing a dark, shadowy interior.  Bobby stared at her aghast.  What was she thinking?  But the girls, MĂ©lisande included, jumped up and down with delight.
“Let’s meet up later, shall we,” continued Nicole.  After the dressage?  Maybe by the fairground.”
“Great!  If you don’t mind…” said Natasha.  She could tell by the expressions on the women’s faces they were delighted to be relieved of their daughters for a few hours.
“Not at all.  Come on guys.  Come into our secret room…”

Bobby was shell-shocked, and stood rooted to the spot.  But MĂ©lisande and her friends grabbed him and dragged him inside.  Nicole threw a switch, flooding the area with light, and while the others took in their surroundings, she locked the door behind them.
They found themselves underneath the tiers of seats.  The shuffling of feet and the creaking of wood from above was quite noisy.  Looking around, they saw stacks of chairs, rows of metal Heras barriers, showjumping poles and sidepieces, crates and a little enclosure full of rakes and other tools.  To their right was the end of a wooden hut, which extended back into the darkness.
“Wow!  Cool!” cried Amelia, running over to the poles and trying to lift one.
“Amelia…  Come on.  Let’s go into our little house,” said Nicole, walking over to the hut and opening the door.  She switched on the light and ushered them all inside.

It was warmer than the undercroft, with old-fashioned radiators on the green-painted walls, and a few armchairs.  The floor was made of old polished oak boards.  At the far end of this room was a small kitchen area, and another door to the right of it.  Nicole opened this door which led into a corridor.  Charlotte and Amelia left their candyfloss propped in mugs in the kitchen and followed the others into the corridor.
“Toilet and shower room on the left here, and at the end changing and sleeping facilities.”
She turned on the light in the end room.  A little bed, a big rug on the floor, bedside cabinet, dressing table, a direct door into the shower-room and toilet, no windows.
“This place is big!  Outside it just looks like a little hut.  Like the Tardis!” remarked MĂ©lisande.  “It’s really cool.  I wouldn’t mind living here…”
“Yeah,” agreed Charlotte.  “Just the three of us.”
“Maybe…” said Amelia.  “But it’s sort of spooky outside…”
“Darling,” said Clarissa, “why don’t you get changed first, then we can get Bobby ready.”
“Okay, mummy.  Won’t be a moment.”
And she collected her bag and disappeared into the end room.  They returned to the main room, where Bobby was standing looking very nervous and sheepish.  He beckoned to Nicole.
“Yes, Bobby?  What’s the matter?”
“I can’t get changed in front of them,” he whispered.  “They have no idea…”
“Well they’re going to find out sometime.  It’s inevitable.”
“But…”
“Don’t be so shy about it.  Stop hiding your light under a bushel.”
“…a bush…?”
“Oh, it just means, like, concealing your talent.  You’ve done an amazing job.  Let people know about it.  Yet another one of your talents.”
Bobby was not happy, but Nicole wouldn’t hear another word.  Clarissa patted and comforted him.  She was sure she could make him feel better – but unfortunately it was impossible to give him a milking in present circ-umstances!

Ten minutes later MĂ©lisande reappeared, resplendent in black jacket, white shirt, Pony Club tie, her new black breeches with a red belt and her new red boots, fitted with little silver spurs.  In one leather-gloved hand she held her best red riding helmet, in the other her new short dressage whip.  She had tied her hair back in a ponytail, and secured it with a black ribbon.
“Mellie!” gasped Charlotte.  “You look amazing!”
“Yeah, beautiful!” echoed Amelia.  Who are you riding?  Which competition?”
MĂ©lisande grinned, and looked at Bobby.  “It’s a secret.  You’ll find out soon.”
“Okay.  Your turn, Bobby,” said Clarissa.  “Come on.  I’ll help you.”
She pushed him gently towards the corridor.  Cynthia picked up her bag and followed them.
“Is Bobby riding too?” asked Amelia, forehead puckering.  “I didn’t know he rode…”
“He doesn’t,” smiled Nicole.  “His talent lies elsewhere…”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 206.

Bobby’s confidence had evaporated.
“Why do those two have to be here?” he whined.  “It’s not fair…”
“Don’t worry, Bobby,” soothed Clarissa.  “We’ll swear them to secrecy…”
“Are you serious?”
“No.  I was just trying to make you feel better.  But it was your aunt’s decision, and we can’t argue with her.”  She started to help him off with his shirt.
Cynthia was unpacking his pony suit.
“This is such a swish outfit, Bobby.  A beautiful, graceful grey pony.  Imagine how you look with MĂ©lisande astride you in her new black breeches and black jacket!  And you’ve got a new hood with a real mane and lovely furry ears!”
Bobby was down to his boxers now, and still distracted by the thought of MĂ©lisande’s friends.  Clarissa took the opportunity to hook a finger into his waistband and divest him of them.
“Hey!”  He fell back onto the bed, covering himself with his hands.
“Well we need to get on, darling.  It’s no good complaining.”

Cynthia was busily preparing the suit, spraying the inside with scented lube.  Slightly irritated at Bobby’s prevarication, she gave the little pouch a quick squirt of the pink.  “That’ll focus his mind,” she thought to herself.
“Okay.  It’s ready.  Now come on.”
It was the usual procedure: legs in first, his feet in the flat, flipper-like extensions with their straps and buckles, the hooves at his knees.  When the ladies were satisfied, the high neck was unzipped, in went his head, and it was zipped up again.  (It was a reverse zip – it closed at the lower end, adjacent to the end of the main front zip, and the two pulls locked together.)  Then his arms – his hands immobilised by the heavy, flat mitts, the front hooves sticking out at his elbows.  Thanks to the lube, everything went on easily.  Then it was just a matter of zipping up the heavy front zip, locking the pull to the neck zip pull, and making sure the flaps concealing the zips were all neat and flat.  It was just like zipping someone into a wetsuit.  But wetsuits don’t have hooves. 
They attended to his arms first, doubling them back and buckling the flippers to the shoulder buckles.  Then they put him down on all fours, and repeated the operation for his legs.
“You look amazing,” remarked Clarissa, ruffling his hair.
“I’m so happy - it’s fits perfectly,” said Cynthia.  “All our hard work paid off.”
It only remained to fit the rubber straps around his front and rear legs, so that his upper and lower arms and his thighs and calves became compressed into single limbs.  The guide loops were about two-thirds of the way up.  They threaded the broad straps through, Clarissa working on the front and Cynthia on the back legs, tightened them, and tucked in the ends.  They stood up to admire their work.
But Bobby wasn’t so happy.  It suddenly dawned on him that there was now no escape.  When the idea of an appearance at the big show had first been mooted, the date had been so remote that he never quite understood what would be involved.  Even up to a few days ago it seemed like a dream.  Then he had started getting butterflies.  But the business with Charlotte and Amelia had quite diverted his thoughts from the main issue, when he still had a chance to back out.  Now, suddenly, the awful truth was brought home to him: he had been transformed into a little rubber pony, tightly strapped up with no means of escape, and in an hour or so a young girl was going to mount him and ride him out in front of a huge crowd of spectators!  At the thought he cheeks turned bright red, and tears formed in his eyes.  Clarissa, seeing his distress, fell to her knees by his side.
“Are you all right, Bobby?  What’s the matter?”
He sobbed quietly.
“D-don’t wanna do it…”
Clarissa smiled, relieved he wasn’t feeling ill.  “Oh, silly boy…  You’ve been training for weeks.  Your routine is incredible.  You and Mellie work so well together.  You’ll put on a great show!”
She pulled out a tissue and dabbed his cheeks.  “Now let’s go and show the others…”
“No!”  He retreated into the corner.  “Not going!”
“Oh, don’t start playing up now, Bobby, please…” sighed Clarissa.  She shuffled over and whispered in his ear.  “What’s the matter?  I suppose you’re missing your milking, right?”  She slipped her hand underneath and felt the little soft pouch.  “Goodness!  Why are you…?”
“Don’t know…” he moaned.  “It must be this new suit…”
Cynthia wore a knowing smile.  “Let’s get his tail on, shall we?” she said – perhaps a tad too eagerly…

[Simonssister]

Chapter 207.

She reached into her bag and pulled out his new tail.  She had taken the opportunity, in finding the new grey tail, of upgrading the internal section, the plug.  Thanks to its slim design, and some extra stretch given to the reinforced disc of latex surrounding the tail-hole in the suit, it could now be inserted after Bobby had the suit on – which made it more difficult for him to resist.  The connectors between the two sections were also a new type.  The steel button on the plug, about the same diameter as a lady’s watch-face, had a small central hole into which a short threaded shaft on the base of the outer section screwed, and when tightened the two steel discs locked together either side of the aperture.   It also contained the valve for inflating the bulb.  The tail itself was short but pretty – real horsehair treated with glitter.  The plug, when uninflated, was about four inches long, entirely sheathed in black rubber, with the button at one end and a floppy rubber bulb at the other, the shaft about as thick as a marker pen.  Inside that shaft was a rechargeable cell which could activate a remotely-controlled vibrator, and inside the bulb a steel ball-bearing attached to a weak spring.  Once the bulb was inflated, any movement on the part of the wearer set the steel bearing in motion, rolling and bouncing off the walls of the tautly-inflated bulb, transmitting a purely mechanical tickling, almost like a vibration, to the wearer.  It was a sort of auto-vibrator which required no power.  Regular movement, like walking, could set the ball rolling around the internal perimeter of the bulb, imparting a regular pulsing effect.  Though not Cynthia’s invention, she was delighted to have found such a useful accessory and the perfect subject to test it on.
Cynthia sprayed pink lube onto the internal plug, and passed it to Clarissa.  Then, whilst she held onto the protesting Bobby, Clarissa, using her calf to stop him kicking with his hind legs, pushed it through the tiny hole and worked it home, twisting and gently pushing until the whole thing disappeared inside, and all that could be seen was the little button between his cheeks.  Then Cynthia screwed on the pump connector, and gave the bulb of the pump five good squeezes.  She unscrewed it and handed Clarissa the tail.
“There, that should be perfect.  Attach the tail and we’ll test it.”
Bobby was no longer protesting, but instead emitting faint, short  whimpering sounds, and squirming his rear end.  Clarissa screwed on the tail till it clicked into place, and gave it a gentle tug.
“That’s nice and firm.  Great.  It’s so pretty.  I can’t wait to see him trotting about.  It’ll be so sparkly when it bounces.”
“Let me take a quick snap.  Bobby, look at me!  Good.  Does it feel comfortable?” asked Cynthia.
“It feels funny!  Sort of…buzzy…”
“Walk towards me…”
“Oh…oh…  I can feel something inside…  Moving about!”
“Good…excellent.  Well, I think he ready for the rest, don’t you, Clarissa?”
“I’m not going out there!”
 â€śOkay…  Let’s bring them in here, then.”
“No!”
Bobby was in a panic now, but she had already opened the door.  “You can all come in now.”
They filed in, the girls first, Nicole in the rear.  When Charlotte and Amelia laid eyes on Bobby, cowering against the wall, they were utterly speechless.  They stood staring, open-mouthed, not quite able to believe what they were seeing.  MĂ©lisande walked over and patted Bobby’s head.
“This is my new pony.  Do you like him?”
“W-what?  “H-how can…” stammered Charlotte.
“We’ve been training for weeks.  We going to do a little show after the dressage.”
Amelia approached Bobby, realisation dawning.  “Can I touch him?”
“Help yourself.”
In a moment both she and Charlotte were squatting down beside him, patting his head and stroking the smooth latex suit.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it!  He’s so sweet!” gasped Amelia.
“Look at his tail,”  cried Charlotte, tugging it and making Bobby squeak.  “It’s all sparkly!”
MĂ©lisande noticed his reaction, and was about to ask her mother how the tail was attached.  But she thought better of it.  She had been suspicious for a while that there was more to it than met the eye - literally!  But she decided to conduct her own experiment as some more auspicious time.

Bobby wanted the ground to swallow him up.  He bit his lip in embarrassment.  The worst thing was he could feel he had a serious erection – goodness know why, he was in no mood for sex - and he prayed no-one would notice.  Fortunately the girls were more interested in stroking his back or patting his head or burning cheeks.  MĂ©lisande was content to let them have their fill of him, and stood watching smugly.  But even she was impressed by what a pretty pony he was, and was eager to complete his transformation.
“Can we get him bridled now, please, aunt Nicole?”
“Yes, of course, dear.  Let’s all go back into the main room, shall we?”

They filed out, the girls still chattering and giggling, hardly able to credit what they were witnessing, MĂ©lisande at the back with Bobby at her heel.  Once in the big room, Cynthia delved into her bag again and brought out Bobby’s new hood.  MĂ©lisande was nervous about how he was going to react, but excited at the thought of having a pony with a human face at last.  Anyway, she told herself, there’s nothing he can do about it.  He’s totally at our mercy.  And the thought gave her a little thrill of power.

But first, Clarissa had had an idea.
“He looks so cute.  How about a little makeup?  I mean, for all anyone knows, he could be a filly.  What do you think?”
“No!  No way!” spat Bobby.  That decided them.
“Good idea, Clarissa.  What do you think, girls?”
“Yes!  Can we help?” asked Charlotte.
“You can advise,” smiled Clarissa.  “Let me do the application.  I’m quite good at this, aren’t I Mellie?  I’ll do yours afterwards, okay?”
“Yes, mummy – you should work in beauty parlour.  By the way, can I have black lipstick today?”
“We’ll see…”
“You never let me wear black lipstick!  It’s not fair!”
“You’re not quite old enough, darling.  Tell you what – red lipstick and black eyeshadow.  All right?”
“Yes!  Great.  Thanks, mummy.”
“Anyway, Bobby…  Don’t glare at me like that!  A little mascara…  Look, no-one’s going to see it anyway from the distance away they’ll be sitting.  Now stop it.  Mascara, pink eye shadow, pink blusher…you don’t really need that, do you…pink lip gloss…  And I’m going to highlight your freckles.”

Helpless and outnumbered, he had no choice but to accept it.  The girls were in ecstasies when Clarissa had finished.
“I never realised Bobby had such a girly face!” cried Charlotte.  “You look really beautiful, Bobby.  You could easily be female!”
Bobby was speechless.  What could he say?  If he were honest, he wouldn’t have minded being made up and allowed to wear lovely girly clothes.  But he found the combination of makeup and his pony costume simply confusing.  What exactly was he?  His rebelliousness momentarily faltered.  But now it was Nicole’s turn to take charge.  Cynthia applied a little green lube, and handed the hood to Nicole, whilst she and Clarissa held onto Bobby.  Nicole knelt in front of him.
“Close your eyes, darling.  I’ll try not to snag your hair.”
She stretched the neck open and pushed in over his head.  It slid down over his eyes, Nicole made an effort, then all of a sudden it slipped right on and snapped into place.  How cute it looked!  The big ears standing pricked on top of his head, the mane, as sparkly as his tail, running from between the ears to the base of his neck, his surprised face framed perfectly in an oval of white latex, the aperture just trimmed with a narrow band of pink, (to match his new bridle).  Nicole smoothed down the neck, making sure there were no wrinkles where it sheathed the neck of the body suit, and tucked a few stray blond curls up under the top of the hood.
“There!  It fits perfectly.”
“Aunt?  Where’s the bottom bit?”
“Bottom bit?”
“For my face!” he shouted, panicking again.  “For my face!”
“This hood doesn’t have a “bottom bit”.  It’s an open-face hood.  Get used to it.  Let’s get the bridle on.  You’ve got a lovely new pink leather one.  Look – I’ll show you.”
“I don’t want to see my fuc-king bridle!  I’m not going out there like this!  There are people I know out there – people who know me!”
“Don’t you dare swear at me, young man – especially in front of MĂ©lisande and her friends!  Be quiet and stand still, or I’ll ask MĂ©lisande to give you a couple of strokes of her whip!”
At that Charlotte and Amelia stared at their friend.
“Do you…  I mean, do you have to use a whip on him too?” asked Amelia, fascinated.
MĂ©lisande picked it out of her bag.  “Oh yes.  It’s one of the essential aids.  I have a special new one.”
She handed it to the girls, who examined it carefully, looked at Bobby, then at each other, with widening grins.
“Gosh…  That’s so cool…” murmured Charlotte, fascinated, flexing the short bendy shaft.  “That’ll hurt…”
“Will you use it on him today?” asked Amelia, hopefully.
“Of course.  Now excuse me, I have to get him tacked up.”