A DAY AT THE BRONY CONVENTION

What have you done to me??

– Did you really think these pathetic virgins want any more dudes around? Of course not! They want tight 'lil cuties – with tight 'lil bodies – & a tight 'lil pussy!

Stephen's female hand reaches into female panties to feel a female vaginal slit.

She screams.

M-my cock! What happened to my cock!?

– Ah, I forgot to explain! That "free" hot dog you ate just cost you your genetic stability. Over a series of cycles with a half-life of the next 12 hours, your body will automatically transform to appease the subconscious desires of those nearby.

Horrified, Stephen's eyes dart about the con.

Bronies.

Bronies, as far as the eye can see.

Creepy, weird, obsessive, kinky, sexually repressed, desperate, frustrated, horny bronies.

She screams.

– Don't worry! The serum you've ingested has been calibrated to be infinitely more sensitive to... ah, rather specific desires, heavily emphasizing the development of certain attributes. So don't try hanging out with straight women or gay dudes – it won't work. Enjoy your new gender!

Stephen, stunned, looks down at her new, form-fitting outfit: a trendy pink-patterned T-shirt and svelte, skintight jeans; the slightest suggestion of a training bra ripples the material on her upper torso, patiently cradling the soft crest her still-incipient bosom.

And how the fuck did you change my clothes??

– "The magic of science!"... Nanotechnology. Old sci-fi cheat.

Her hand snaps pensively at the skinny straps of her brand-new bralette. Its grip feels strange & unfamiliar, pressing firmly on her slim, petite shoulders and "late bloomer" breast buds with quiet diligence.

She slides her slender hand cautiously down the skin-hugging contours of her casual, freshly-nanogenerated feminine-cut attire.

Ugh...

I feel naked in these things...

Her other hand – still buried awkwardly within her pants – slowly, automatically, begins to massage her newly-formed clit, feeling the gooey folds of her new, inverted genitalia. She gasps at the sensitivity.

My god, this feels amazing...!

I...

I really am a girl...?

A couple of fat bronies waddling past begin to gawk. Her face glows bright red. Reluctantly, she pulls her hand out of her pants.

She walks off nervously.

I need to find a bathroom so I can investigate further...

...

... and maybe find a way out of this horrible teenage chick-body...!

As she walks, her tiny butt shifts enticingly against the fabric of her jeans. From the corner of her vision, she spies the leering eyes of passing bronies dart to avoid her gaze as each in turn is caught glaring at her cute, unassuming, jailbaitlike figure.

Are these boys... staring at my body now that I've become a girl?

Perverts...

They can smell my femaleness. I know it. Pheromones. Sense fresh meat: like sharks. Hungry. Lonely. Detect when suitably attractive female nearby. Can't help it: humans – animals. Body before mind. Theirs is a hunger I knew...

... er – know –

... firsthand.

The bestial lust that gnaws at the soul. Starving wolf; bared fangs shone through sheepskin. Blood on the summer air.

...

Suddenly frightened, Stephen's gangly, girlish legs quake in mortal peril, trembling in her trendy checkered Vans, feeling like a prone, defenseless warrior who foolishly forgot his sword back home.

I've got to find a way to get my goddamn cock back!!

Closing her eyes, she tries with all her might to will her missing penis & balls back into physical existence, crossing her fingers forcefully, gritting her teeth with determination, straining her pelvic floor muscles.

Striding forward, Stephen's wayward arm bumps unwittingly into the tall, sturdy figure standing directly in her path.

– Yeowch. Sorry!

Somewhat ruffled, she looks up to catch within her widening gaze the smooth, darkly handsome facial features of a strapping, square-jawed young male. An odd aura of intriguing mystery enchants the untold secret of his silent, knowing eyes. Slightly confused, he looks down at the beanpole figure of the girl who has just unwittingly jabbed the bulge of his crotch with her wayward elbow.

– Oh, excuse me... he mutters, returning attention to his smartphone.

Stephen's heart beats loudly in her chest. Were the boys at this convention always this cute??

Her new pussy moistens ever so slightly.

A fat brony elbows her in the small of her back; she swivels around, catching the stench of days-old armpit sweat. With a tip of the fedora the neckbeard excuses himself – trundling off, pimply asscrack in full view.

Well, maybe not all of the boys...

Eager to forget the unpleasantness of the obesity behind her, she turns once more to gaze upon the handsome figure which her tingling elbow might never forget – only to see him in the arms of the pretty Luna cosplay girl from before, gently kissing the nape of her neck as she giggles chipperly at some unheard joke.

Of course... he has a girlfriend...

Feh!

He's only with her 'cuz she's got bigger tits than me...

Noting the plump curvature of the Luna's pleated skirt as her boyfriend squeezes a willing buttcheek, Stephen fondles absentmindedly one of her own (relatively flat) buttocks.

And a better ass.

Typical.

Sigh...

I clasp my nonexistent bosom wistfully.

I suppose I could use a bit more up top...

...

Wait, what am I thinking??

– No, no – I think you're on to something! crows the awful voice in my head. Do you see that gross brony staring at you over there?

Turning my head in apprehension and fear, I view once more the hulking obesity of the fedora-wearing neckbeard from before, seated at a nearby fold-out table, pretending to be engrossed in some trivial game on his phone. He quickly averts my glance.

– He was – just now – thinking the exact same thing! Amazing, right?

I shuddered involuntarily.

– But what does your body think?

Well...

You see –

My body had been listening to his perverted thoughts the entire time. My desire for bigger tits & a fatter ass... had in fact been his own.

Suddenly volatile, my horrifically vulnerable, receptive open-source DNA unspins & re-entwines itself maliciously against my will, every fiber of my cellular infrastructure twisting painfully, bending, mutating, aching to contort every molecule in my body in accordance with his unconscious, unspoken will, saturating my bones, organs, & tissue with an ineffable, indescribable, inconceivably genetic ailment of nauseously ill portent, fiendishly warping my very anatomy... simply in order to please this one single random brony's cock.

Shuddering icily, I feel so powerless... so alone. An empty object, an inanimate plaything. A lifeless, mindless, simulated doll.

God's pathetic fucktoy.

Feeling a bone shift somewhere, I wince in breathless terror.

Then: the inevitable.

My accursed body lurches with a sickeningly familiar sensation as the relentless hormone factory of my ovaries gushes forth a torrent of estrogen, saturating the seething membranes of my exhausted cells. My nipples engorge once more, tickling the tight cups of my tiny training bra. Then, slowly but surely, my budding breasts begin to develop in earnest, bunching up fatly within their taught little harness as they grow outward. I fight with both arms to restrain them – useless.

To my continuing horror, nanobots race to remake my clothing to suit pervier tastes: my jeans shorten & tighten, decorated with little flowers at the hem; my shirt shrinks, plunging its neckline & exposing a slight whiff of flesh just below my navel; my tennis shoes dissolve into flowery summer sandals on my tiny feet; and my bra adjusts itself accordingly in anticipation of my budding breasts. My hair brightens subtly into a dirty bronze, lengthening past my shoulders. I feel the bones of my pelvis slouch still wider, pulling my ass slightly outwards, rounding it enticingly against my even-tighter jeans now gently riding up into my asscrack. I spread my arms outwards in disbelief to watch as my boobs begin to overfill my small A cup bra, which quickly becomes a B cup in order to achieve a more perfect fit.

...

Now I look like some free-spirited little high-school hipster girl, excited to show off the new curves she grew over summer break.

My body's unwelcome changes ease to a halt.

Instinctively, my body draws my mind's conscious awareness directly into my newly-formed, throbbing, now distinctly more-than-budding tits. They feel like perky little beanbags hanging from my skinny ribcage.

W-What?? Did my boobs just get... bigger??

I clutch my mutant chest in disbelief.

– Believe what you feel! O, and what's this? Have those hips perhaps gotten a bit wider as well...?

With one hand still grasping my hyperventilating chest, I shot the other around to feel my ass. It feels fuller.

This is too weird.

I cross my arms under my modest bosom, furious. Biting my lip and pouting, I direct my thoughts at the unseen voice which seemed to be delighting in playing softcore Cronenberg with my anatomy:

Change me back into a man. Now.

– I'm afraid I couldn't do that even if I wanted to, honey. By the way, enjoy being able to cross your arms while you still can... Your DNA's desire-sensitivity has already recovered from its first and shortest refractory period, and quite a few of these bronies have already begun eyeing your new curves...

In silent fear I turn my head. Several bronies had joined the first. They hid behind their phones & pretended not to have been staring, sweating in silent lust.

Fuckin' cowards.

Looking down, I clench my fist in anger, walking away in a huff, cradling my new breasts with my free arm. The gentle jiggling of their smallish weight creates a sickening knot in my stomach.

This body was not my own: I had become someone else's fantasy.

And it wasn't finished changing, either.

Not by a long shot.

In the pit of my heart, I could feel the hunger of the bronies' eyes as they watched my asscheeks sashaying briskly away against the taught denim of my form-fitting jeans. I could feel their instinctive, animal lust for even bigger titties. And in my body's flexible, fertile genome, their cold desires once more take root.