The Public Debut

Riley woke with a bright smile on his face, excitement thrumming through his slender frame. Today was the day. The gym debut. His body practically tingled with anticipation. Isabelle had been clear—this would be his first time showing off all their hard work. A celebration. A coming out. He was practically vibrating.

Isabelle had already laid out everything he needed on the bed, the items arranged almost like a sacred altar. The shiny blue sports bra sat front and center, flanked by a matching pair of tiny booty shorts, his skin-tight crop tank folded neatly atop them. Off to the side lay a pristine pair of white ankle socks and some baby pink running shoes with glittering silver accents. Finally, at the foot of the bed, nestled reverently in soft tissue paper, lay the solution they'd prepared just the night before—his new tucking harness.

He ran his fingers reverently across the sports bra. It felt like silk, but with a firm elastic edge that promised to hug his sculpted chest tightly. He stepped into the bathroom, where Isabelle waited, hairbrush in one hand and a bottle of rose-scented lotion in the other.

"Ready, princess?" she teased, using her affectionate nickname for him.

"You bet I am!" he chirped, his voice bright and high, full of bubbling energy.

She handed him the lotion first. He began rubbing it into his smooth, hairless skin—shoulders, arms, legs, chest. The scent and glide of it made him feel so clean, so fresh. So powerful. He raised an arm and admired the lean muscle he'd spent weeks cultivating, proud of the hard edges that lay just beneath his soft skin.

Next, she brushed his long hair into a sleek, high ponytail, the strands gleaming with shine. "You want to show off that neck," Isabelle whispered as she secured the band.

Then came the tucking harness. Riley slid it on with practiced ease. The sensation was intense—first a soft cradle, then a gentle, confident compression. It was like being hugged low on his body, an ever-present reminder of control and masculinity. Or, at least, what he thought of as masculinity. His shaft, small and obedient after weeks of hormones, folded neatly into place, disappearing as the harness locked him into his new silhouette. He felt... streamlined. Sleek. Battle-ready.

He pulled the sports bra over his chest, adjusting the cups with his fingertips, making sure his impressive breast forms were proudly displayed but perfectly supported. It fit like a glove.

Booty shorts on next—they clung like a second skin, rising up the curve of his behind to show off every inch of progress he'd made. The crop top completed the look, exposing his toned midsection. As he turned in the mirror, Isabelle came up behind him, smoothing the line of the shorts, adjusting the straps of the bra, giving him little nods of approval.

"You look strong," she whispered in his ear.

Riley beamed. "Thanks, Isa. I feel strong."

They walked into the gym together. Heads turned. Women glanced, then looked away in confusion. Men looked longer, some curious, others confused, some clearly interested. Riley didn’t register any of that.

He marched toward the squat racks, taking each step like he was walking a runway. His hips swayed naturally. His ponytail bounced. His voice rang out as he greeted the staff with a cheerful, "Heyyy!"

They gave him name-tagged stares. One guy said, "Ma'am, do you need help finding the locker room?"

Riley laughed lightly. "No thanks, I'm all good!"

He approached the mirror wall and began his warm-up, admiring his sculpted glutes and smooth thighs. The workout began in earnest—deep squats, slow curls, overhead lifts. He exaggerated every movement, angling himself toward the girls in the cardio section, fully convinced they were watching.

But his eyes wandered. Toward the broad-chested man on the bench press. The guy with the towel around his neck doing lat pulldowns. The instructor with the thick thighs adjusting weights on the machines. Each time, Riley's chest fluttered a little. His eyes were drawn lower—to the bulge in their shorts—and when he caught a glimpse, his stomach did somersaults.

"Damn, that guy's arms are huge," he murmured. "Bet he could lift a truck."

He felt proud being there among these men. They were his peers. He looked just like them, he was sure of it. Maybe even better. As he adjusted his ponytail and checked the angle of his sports bra, he caught a reflection of himself smiling, legs crossed daintily as he waited his turn.

He was crushing it.

"Looking good, girl!" a passing woman smirked.

Riley waved without thinking. "Thanks, you too!"

Isabelle, lounging on a mat nearby, just smiled. Everything was going perfectly.