A DAY AT THE BRONY CONVENTION

Meanwhile, Stephen continues to meander aimlessly about the con.

God this is boring. I should have cosplayed or something. Maybe then I'd get some attention... Wonder if I could pull of a male Twilight Sparkle gijinka... maybe a Rainbow Dash?

Bah...

He approaches a concession stand.

– Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs!

Stephen holds his stomach lightly, looking up at the pricing sign by the concession stand.

Ten dollars.

I am pretty hungry... but these hot dogs are WAY too expensive... Fuckin' con price-gouging...

– Get 'em while they're hot dogs! Get 'em while they're hot, dawgs!

Forget it.

He moves to walk away from the concession stand, but his eye is caught by an enticing object on a table nearby.

Eh?

There, seeping grease onto a plain brown recyclable napkin, rests one solitary hot dog.

Aha!

You can always get stuff for free if you know where to look...!

He quickly takes a bite, silently hoping its owner doesn't get back from the restroom or whatever and catch him stealing their food.

Tastes a bit funny, though...

Suddenly he keels over, struck by an intense abdominal pain.

– Ooog... my stomach...

I guess that's just about how it goes when it comes to free stuff...

– Hello Stephen. Can you hear me?

Unnerved, he looks around for the source of this sudden female voice.

What the hell??

– I am transmitting my voice directly into your mind. The hot dog you have eaten has allowed me to establish this private telepathic connection.

The scientist, now seated in the swivel-chair left vacant by her now-quite-deceased research assistant, watches Stephen suffer in real-time over the console's monitor, viewable via remote tap of the hotel's security camera system.

Stephen clutches his head in terror & confusion.

Who are you?? What do you want??

Oh God, it's finally happened... I've finally gone full-on schizophrenic...

The scientist laughs.

– Do not be afraid. Things will go much easier if you simply accept what is about to happen to you...

Suddenly, my entire body seems incredibly, fiendishly open – utterly vulnerable to the secret thoughts and desires of all of the male con-goers – as if my very genetic code were listening in, longing to satiate & embody their subconscious, shameful, erotic whims. Foreign desires begin to flood my DNA; I feel their frustrated libidinous thirst; I feel their desperate, secret hunger; and to my horror, deep down in the core of my being I feel pity... and a blind resolve to fulfill their lusts by any means necessary.

My very cellular structure aches to bend itself into a form that can quench their hidden pain.

My body begins to change.

With a sickening slowness, I feel my spinal column shudder at the base. All at once, an agonizing sensation like wrenching bone on raw tissue pierces my lumbar vertebrae – the small of my back is collapsing slowly inwards, curving itself into a subtle, feminine arch shape. I can feel my hipbones slouching away from my pelvis, burgeoning, bubbling outwards so that my posterior begins to resemble the softly pooched hips & buttocks of a comely young girl.

Trembling in abject terror, I feel my jawbone scrape painfully from a respectable masculine squareness, reshaping itself into the gentle curvature of a young woman's chin, with soft ruby lips to match. When I spread these new lips to cry out for help, I am suddenly racked with an indescribable, visceral pain that stays my tongue. I feel my entire body starting to shrink. My angular, masculine 6'0" frame is crumpling in on itself, evaporating into the waiflike 5'4" of a tender, fragile female figure.

My hoodie begins to remake itself, dissolving into a thin, tight pink T-shirt; my jeans shrink around ever-more slender legs. My scalp, once utterly bare, flourishes with thick, dark brown hair, creeping steadily to my shoulders in a slow bronze wave of voluminous lushness.

Doubled over & gagging with misery, my body renounces its masculinity: I feel a pair of ovaries growing like cancerous cysts within the pit of my belly. From nothing they grow, twin demons, fierce engines of mass estrogen production. My mutant hypothalamus, desperate to please the wayward sexual hungers of the masses, vigorously stimulates these newly-grown feminine glands, wielding them to transform my aching body still further. My penis shrinks up into my crotch with an agonizing, drawn-out, gutwrenching SCHHHLLLURP, inverting itself into the cylindrical gash of a pouting vaginal slit. The tubes of my newly-formed pussy push up further & further into my diaphragm, finally warping the surrounding viscera into a fully-functioning uterus fed through spindly, alien Fallopian tubes by my powerful, freshly-grown ovaries.

When I finally manage to force my mouth open to scream, my crimson lips emit a distressingly effeminate squeal. I grasp my throat in terror – my Adam's apple has dissolved, along with my beard.

As the space above my hips collapses grindingly into my diaphragm to form a more girlish waist (and my boxer shorts morph into tight white panties), a burning surge of estrogen saturates the dormant tissue around & beneath my nipples. I feel my engorged nipples swell with blood as my breast tissue swells slightly upwards from utter flatness, budding softly & sensuously into the waiting cups of a newly-formed A cup training bra. As the horror of my deplorable transformation abates, I gasp in disbelief, struggling to stand up straight once more and regain some semblance of inner equilibrium.

I stand now on unsure footing within the unfamiliar body of a (rather flat-chested) 18-year-old girl.