Game 4Game 4 Outline| Game 4 |
Game 4 Outline |
Into a room seemingly prepared to make those who are male to relax and with some coaxing they might find delight and acceptance of what has happened to their body and lifestyle.
This woman speaks with many learned’ and suggestive words, her voice is soft and alluring. Beckoning hands motion you to walk and come to sit and lie back on a relaxing couch. The couch offers excellent support as if melding to fit and comfort your strange and changing bodily shape.
Once lying back and becoming relaxed you are offered a drink, and from it your throat warms and belly ads to the loving comforts. Your mind and anxiety quelled as she talks only of your strikingly large and long maleness.
Relaxing feels good and from the comfort of the couch and this woman's words your mind falters and one slips into some needed slumber.
You jerk awake from your short nap, suddenly alert and reminded of how you had begun to change of body.
A look around the room sees it as dimly lighted and not another soul in the room but you.
Thoughts come and suggest it might be best of valor to get up and make a quick exit. Sitting upright or trying to do this attests to how your deep sleep has added to the changes upon your body.
Rocking and rolling to bring your entire body into finally a slouched but sitting position and with those hind pony legs and feet setting over the edge of the couch, they hang down to the floor. Everything in you says this position is wrong. Your arms feel oddly stiff and are hung forward seemingly locked at the shoulders to protrude as leg like appendages, having a forearm but knees not wrists, shank cannon bones, new joints and fingers gone and replaced by each a solid one toe hoof.
Your head feels and seems rather normal, as foggy thoughts fade and the mind begins to offer clear thinking again.
A warm and relaxing sensation envelops your entire body. You move and feel the thick but soft fluffy pelt of hair that now totally adorns and covers you from head to hoofs. Deep down you know that from all what has occurred until then you should be upset and likely filled with trepidation and anxiety. Odd but you feel exceptionally comfortable if not different. Your very posture and manner of lower body suggest of a transition to some new equine species.
Your thoughts are warring as something in you suggests accepting this and availing yourself of a life and future of easy going and joining with others for frolic and safety in numbers. As if this seems proper and desirable, you have lurking suspicions that what has become of you is nothing less than another animal form; but one granting a fuzzy warm feeling that would make you want and forget your entire past.
A struggle to stand ends up with you then coming to stand on all fours, with solid hoofs and strong, stout legs supporting your hefty body, you walk toward a wall mounted mirror.
Your first view of one’s reflection brings a mouth with blackened lips to give a broad smile. Eyes are wide open, looking at what you realize is but the slender and excellent conformation, and form of some very well endowed male pony. A half set side saunter lets you eye down the length and flanks of this new form. You turn a bit more and give close attention to how your pony sheath is set forward; this might allow and offer you a better manner of insertion and stance when mating.
A swish of your ponytail turns the mind and eyes to make it flick, slap, and feather its coarse hairs across something that as a human rarely reached the sunlight.
Sensuality abounds and like your first inkling about the way you had changed, that warm and relaxing fuzzy feeling comes back to haunt you, making new ideas flood into a mind ready to accept life as a equine, a pony, and being one fine stallion.
The door to that room opens and you look in that direction. The red haired woman is accompanied by two other women; one with long black and silky hair, another who is blonde, and the three walk briskly to stand about this new you. They all talk to you, each asking about something different then what their counterpart would wish you to respond and give some answer.
Roaming hands rush about touching you in places thought by a human mind as somewhat private. The red haired’ woman works her warm hands at your thick skinned sheath, as if she would coax from it that shaft which is large, long, and filled with enticing suggestions.
The woman with long black and silky flowing hair kneels and puts her pretty face before you’re partially equine and still human like head and face. She cups her hands under your chin as if to massage and make your jaw to extend and conform to working better at mashing food into some slurry.
A mind and body fully involved by the actions of two women, as the third, that blonde bombshell is waiting for your maleness to drop, filling out, and come to a stiffness that she would then stroke, finger, and pick at that opening upon the anterior end.
Hands massage up in your groin, working to assert the male testicles to bring forth their bounty. Your shaft by that moment is rising and bumping into a rounded and furry belly, giving forth such sensual ideas of equine rituals, that the need then for a female to mate is not a necessity.
Urging you to spew forth your remaining human pent load, the black haired woman speaks to you of coming days and conquests when what your body needs to give forth is totally of the equine fervor.
Banging sensation is making your head aching while unknown it is forcing changes to your skull, as soon will stand before these women a virile pony stallion, one ready to make his mark and meet a bestial destiny.
Written by T. K. Rustin
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