Outside, Trixie recoiled at the touch of the disgusting stallion. "What in Celestia's name is wrong with you?!" She shrieked.
"Heck, y'all sure is purdy, miss," Bluebuck drawled, a dopey smile spread across his face. His hand was in his pants, and Trixie could see the idiotic redneck was playing with himself. The stallion farted, and a nearby mare in a PETA shirt gagged in disgust.
"Not your kind of pretty, creep!" Trixie shouted, twirling around and jogging away from the weird pervert.
Soon, Trixie had to take a break. She was suddenly exhausted, after running only a couple blocks. "Trixie needs a smoke," She mumbled to herself as she began to walk. "Wait a second, since when do I smoke?"
Trixie's jeans became frayed at the edges. Threads seemed to unravel and fall down her legs, quickly losing length until they could charitably be called shorts. Her legs swelled up at the same time, filling and stretching the denim. They took on a pockmarked cottage cheese texture, jiggling with every slight movement.
Her fashionable camisole became baggy and against her thin torso, but that didn't last long. Her body started to bloat out into a lumpy mass, barely recognizable as a mare's torso. Her gut flopped out until it strained against the fabric, which barely reached her belly button. Her perky breasts swelled up until they resembled huge, saggy bags of flesh, hanging over her belly like a shelf.
Trixie reached into her jiggling cleavage and pulled out a crumpled, sweat-stained pack of Everfree Reds, the cheapest, nastiest cigarettes in Equestria. She popped one into her mouth and dove back in, this time finding a plastic lighter, which she flicked to light, then stuffed everything back where it belonged.
She took a long drag, blowing it out in a ring. It was good to get some nicotine into her body. It was so big, she figured, she needed a lot of it. As she smoked, she noticed a very fat, very dirty mare in a tattered Cabella's shirt walking past - Something about her seemed familiar, but Trixie just couldn't place her.
As she thought about it, she heard a pony clearing her throat, and looked down to see a short mare standing in front of her, almost hidden by her enormous rack.
"Um, miss?" The mare asked, "Could you smoke away from our doorway please?"
Dixie looked at the mare in front of her. She was a short, young mare dressed in a simple black uniform. Her nametag read Ruby Mare, and she looked every bit the part of the young maitre'd. Dixie exhaled smoke in the mare's face, causing her to cough, before continuing.
"Like Ah was sayin'," The mare said, her voice taking on an uneducated tone, "Why don't y'all come inside? We don't need none o' them anti-smokin' laws in here!"
The two mares pushed open the doors and walked inside. It was a fancy restaurant, lots of dark and woodsy tones, mood lighting, the works. Ponies in business suits sat in booths along the walls, nibbling on hors'deovers and discussing their latest deals.
But as Dixie walked through the room, smoke trailing as she walked toward the bar, things began to change. The fancy, minimalist in the room took on brighter colors, changing into tacky plastic decorations. The leather benches turned into frayed vinyl, with lots of holes and stains. The quiet atmospheric music turned into loud, staticky rock n' roll, perfect for a low-class food joint with low-class customers.
Ponies didn't notice as their meals turned from small, well-made portions, to plates piled high with greasy burgers, sandwiches, and fries. Nor did they make a sound as they changed, turning from wealthy, affluent businessponies, to poor rednecks.
Suits frayed and fell apart, turning into denim and leather jackets. Shirts became checkered and stained. Well-maintained physiques bloated up, swift minds slowed to an idiotic crawl. Some shouted dirty jokes across the restaurant, others guzzled cheap beer and smoked in their booths. Nowhere in the restaurant was a pony who earned more than a janitor, and nowhere was a pony who weighed less than 200 pounds.
The fancy restaurant had become a greasy spoon diner, and nopony was the wiser.
Dixie took a seat at the counter, which creaked beneath her weight, and looked at the menu on the chalkboard behind the bar.
"What'll ya have, hun?" Ruby asked, notebook in hand. This fat mare was dressed in a grease-splattered pink apron which strained against her belly and tits. Her mane was done up in a beehive, with frayed ends sticking out all over. Wrinkles and cellulite marked her face and body, showing her increased age. Her nametag had changed too, now reading Trudy Mama. She had become a true redneck waitress.
"Ah'll have," Dixie replied, tapping her flabby chin in thought, "Two burgers, a plate o' fries, two chocolate milkshakes, an' a big ol' slice of apple pie!"
Trudy scribbled it down on her notepad and tossed it through the window to the kitchen. Inside, a great prench chef had become a slovenly fry cook, working without gloves and spitting in the hay fries. Dixie couldn't wait to see what this culinary genius would serve her. As she waited, she heard a jingle, and turned around to see a familiar face.
"Hey there, cutie, what's yer name?" Bluebuck asked, clapping a hand to Dixie's huge ass. A loud fart sputtered out, which the white stallion took a deep whiff of. She giggled and took a drag from her cigarette.
"Th' name's Dixie," She replied in a sultry tone, "How 'bout y'all, stud?"
"Call me Buck," He replied, slipping his hand into her sweat-soaked panties. Dixie giggled, and Bluebuck chuckled in his low, dumb voice, then leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Outside, staring through the dirty windows, was a purple alicorn. Her expression was one of mixed horror and anger as she watched the disgusting display within. Her horn glowed, then she teleported away.
It was the day of Prince Blueblood's visit to Ponyville, and Rarity had a grudge. She was very good at keeping them. Generous with them, even. For all those years, ever since the Grand Galloping Gala had proven her Prince Charming fantasy to be just that, she'd harbored a secret hatred against the Prince of Canterlot. Oh, she'd hidden it well enough. Over the years, she'd been in contact with him numerous times, but had shown no sign of the fury seething beneath the surface, let alone any memory of that terrible night. What could she do, stab him with her horn in front of a fashion show crowd? Toss him off his airship? No, those methods were too messy, and besides, she didn't want to kill him.
She wanted to ruin him. She wanted to destroy every single thing the prince stood for. She didn't care how, she just knew that his overstuffed soul would do better as a bathroom rag than a prince. And now, she finally had her chance.
True words were spoken, she was set free from the spell, yadda yadda, blah blah blah. Rarity may not have been under mind control anymore, but she knew a good thing when she saw it, and Inspiration Manifestation was just the spell for her. She still toyed with it from time to time, making minor adjustments to ponies and situations to suit her advantage, but the big prize was still out there. When she heard about Blueblood's impending visit to the outlaying towns of Equestria, she knew she finally had her chance.
A little clever thinking, a forged royal seal, and Carousal Boutique was added to the tour's itinerary. Just before noon, he'd be there, without guards as was his custom. And then, she'd strike.
When the door chimes rang, Rarity's heart leapt, but she managed to keep her cool and trot down the stairs, saying in a singsong voice, "Welcome to Carousal Boutique, where everything is chic, unique, and magnifique!"
Blueblood stood in the doorway, dressed in a white sports jacket and slacks. He turned to Rarity, opening his mouth to speak, when a blast of green magic from her horn hit him square in the chest.
In an instant, his expensive suit had burned away in green flame, replaced with a cheap red plaid shirt and blue jeans. His manticore skin shoes were replaced with dirty rubber boots, and a Buck Dynasty baseball cap had appeared atop his perfectly curled mane.
"You!" Blueblood shouted, pointing at Rarity, "What did you do with my clothes?!"
Rarity just smiled. "Moi?" She replied, her horn glowing, "Why, I changed them to better suit your new personality!"
"What new..." Blueblood slowed, then stopped. A faint green glow circled down his horn and into his head. His eyes glowed bright green for a second, before returning to normal. He stood there speechless for a moment, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. As he did so, his mane seemed to shrink down, balding in some spots and becoming completely unkempt. A sprinkling of unshaven dark hairs sprouted across his face and neck. Rarity snapped her fingers in front of him, causing him to snap back into reality.
"As Ah was sayin'," Bluebuck drawled as his speech patterns changed, "Ah was hopin' Ah could git a new onn-somm, uh, onn-samm..."
"Ensemble?" Rarity said, helpfully.
"Yeah! Ah'm outgrowin' mah usual duds, y'see."
Rarity could see that. Bluebuck's body was bulging against his clothes. His plaid shirt had mysteriously lost the bottom two buttons, and was near to losing a third to his expanding belly. Flesh oozed over the top of his jeans, giving him a thick muffin top. Stains appeared across his clothing, both from food and sweat. Dark circles appeared around his armpits, and splotches of ketchup and mustard soaked into his shirt. A foul smell began to rise up, and Rarity realized that the stallion had pissed himself. A dark streak worked its way halfway down his pants before soaking into the already filthy denim.
Bluebuck smiled dumbly, exposing his rotting, yellowed teeth. A thick miasma of alcohol, shit, and piss clung to the hick like a veil. Rarity was quite pleased with herself, but wasn't sure what to do next to finish destroying the former prince. Suddenly, an idea sparked in her head. Her horn glowed, and she gave him a peck on the cheek, barely able to contain her disgust at the fuzzy feeling and salty taste. Her red lipstick left a mark that could be mistaken for a ketchup stain on his filthy face, and she almost retched at the sight.
Bluebuck blushed, a smile creeping across his flabby cheeks. He didn't realize it, but Rarity's kiss had sealed his fate. The transformation was permanent. Even if somepony recognized the former prince, his original mind and body could never be recovered. Not that anypony would want that. In Rarity's mind, the fat, idiotic redneck was a much better fit for the worthless stallion.
"Why, of course, darling!" Rarity replied, grinning, "I'd be delighted to design a whole new wardrobe for my favorite admirer. Why don't you come back around noon tomorrow, and I'll get your measurements?"
Bluebuck's throat made a noise that almost sounded like a hiccup. "H'yuk! Ah'd be dee-lie-ted to, Miss Rar'ty!"
With a tip of his Buck Dynasty hat, Bluebuck turned around and waddled away, ripping a foul egg-scented fart as he did. A drop of brownish sludge splashed to the floor from inside his pantleg, and with a flick of her horn, Rarity picked it up and wiped it across his denim-clad ass. She opened the door for him to keep his dirty hands off her nice doorknob, watching Bluebuck leave and enter his new, pathetic life. The slobbish moron raised a hand and smacked the ass of some passing mare, who recoiled in disgust. Rarity smiled as the door swung shut.
"Much better," She muttered. She rubbed her hands together in glee, a green glow emanating from her eyes.
"But there's still more work to do!"
Author's Note
That's the first chapter done.
