A DAY AT THE BRONY CONVENTION

I need to get out of here, before...

– Too late, I'm afraid!

She was right. A familiar warming sensation begins to build behind my tingling nipples as my body's hormonal resources are forcefully rerouted via nanobots into further developing its breast tissue. Bloated with blood, my nipples crest visibly beneath my filling bra, which slowly reshapes itself into white, lacy lingerie patterns. My panties follow suit, shrinking from cute yet utilitarian cloth to match the sexier designs of my new top. No longer merely form-fitting, my jeans dissolve into oppressively tight, slightly-torn jean shorts which compress uncomfortably my now-rounder booty and even-wider hips. My hair grows longer still, lengthening itself all the way down to my ass, brightening further to achieve a stereotypical "dumb blonde" look. As my boobs bloat steadily to fill my new C cup bra, my shirt shrinks into a tiny yellow tank-top, fully baring my lithe midriff, proudly displaying my new, more ample cleavage for all the world to see.

I look down. There, nestled fatly in my new Victoria's Secret-type lingerie, bobbed the twin desires of perverted men the world over. They ache with new sensation; fresh nerve-endings seem to have thrived throughout the swollen breast tissue, but particularly in my nipples – still engorged, poking uncomfortably into the hard, grooved surface of my bra.

My body responds to the subconscious sexual desires of those around me, huh...?

So of course my boobs are getting bigger...

I jump slightly, jiggling my boobs in their cups experimentally, causing my painfully erect nipples to rub against the fabric of my bra. I gasp at the sensation.

... more sensitive too. Figures.

I bend my torso sideways to get a better look at my now-fuller booty. My fashionably-ripped jean shorts ride up aggressively into my buttcrack, hugging my cheeks so tightly that I feel unsure of the possibility of ever taking them off. My butt itself, while not exactly "big" by any means, now curves enticingly outward from the sloping small of my back, eager to present itself as lascivious live bait to the hungry cocks of fertile males.

With my long, golden-blonde hair, shamelessly ass-hugging cutoffs, and skimpy bright yellow mini-tank-top I look like some sort of exhibitionistic sorority-pledge slut.

Ugh.

This body was built for fucking...

Suddenly seized with mortal fear, I meet the passing glances of hordes of frustrated, horny con-goers only pretending not to ogle my newly-amplified assets now on flagrant display.

A nervous bead of sweat rolls down my neck.

I've got to get to the restroom & figure out some sort of plan before these bronies' sick fantasies turn me into a walking cum dumpster with hooves...!

Resolutely I march, teeth clenched, head down, fists swaying at the ends of my stiff arms, determined, trying to walk as squarely and un-sexily as possible... and failing. My tight little booty continues to sway in a tantalizing rhythm. A pert little window of C cup cleavage peeks out slyly above my tank-top – I quickly splay my hand across my chest to cover it.

A thin, clear film of icy sweat coats my terrified, fragile, genetically-unstable body.

...

Where the fuck are the restrooms??

Vendors' & artists' tables line the walls, hawking overpriced pony merch & mediocre pony fan-art. Bronies swarm the hall, filling nearly all of the available walking space with their nerdly bulk. The carpet seethes with them. It's difficult to even move, let alone see where to go. An uncomfortable heat surges within my anxious body, twisting my sickly stomach inside out. I'm nearly crying from fear.

I'll never get out of this slutty teenage girl's body!

I close my eyes. The frigid wetness of sweat begins to seep deeply into the fabric of my skanky clothing. Fanning myself with one hand, I shift my weight onto one haunch, licking the salty perspiration from my full, feminine lips.

What the fuck is with this heat?? I'm sweating like a pig!

Slowly, a deep nausea rocks the core of my being, throwing my center of gravity off-balance. My arms rush to clutch my afflicted midsection. I'm suddenly freezing cold.

– Uuuugghh... I don't feel so good...

– It seems your body is having a brief spot of trouble adapting to all of your recent genetic, hormonal, and physical... changes – I can't imagine why... Your body seems to be attempting to heal itself to its original male condition through white blood cell activity, causing your present violent fever. Touching, really – yet utterly futile...! Those rogue cells will not survive your next wave of transformation, and this illness will subside – along with most of your body's remaining resistance to your inevitable future!

She coughs.

– By the way... your cups are showing...!

Looking down at her sweat-soaked tank-top, Stephen can see clearly the bold outline of her lacy white brassiere.

– Yipe!

Panicking, hunched tightly to conceal herself, she rushes madly in a bid to escape the thronging crowd of sex-starved manchildren, hurtling herself towards what looks like a relatively empty hallway.

I've got to find that damn restroom before any of those gross horny bronies see my br–...!!

Just then, her sandalled foot catches sharply on an unseen break in the surface of the hotel carpet, sending her flailing body careening down harshly against an expansive tract of hard tile floor.

– ...aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Crumpled in a compromising pose, ass-up, splayed across the marble surface, still sick, still scared, still soaked with sweat, Stephen weeps bitter tears of acrid, stinging anguish. Sobbing, rubbing her burning back, she struggles just to sit upright.

– Ooowwww...

– Did you have a nice trip?

The scientist's indifferent sarcasm.

Why me?

Why the fuck me??

– I guess this just isn't your day at all now, is it?

Bitter teardrops fall: in pain, in pain of terror, in pain of humiliation, in pain of suffering, in pain of my sickened, aching, cursed body.

Losing my shit completely, I shake my fist at an indifferent ceiling.

– FUCK OFF!! DEMON!!!

– Watch that temper, now! You wouldn't want to attract any unnecessary attention or anything, now, would you?

– GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

I beat the uncaring surface of the convention hall floor with impotent, defeated fists. Bowed down on all fours, head hanging low, flaxen hair hanging low, my delicate, girlish hands splay to support an aching, ailing, sickly, shuddering female frame, my C cup boobs sagging into their soggy C cup holsters.

My slutty tank-top drips futile pools of futile sweat on futile tiling.

– It's just not fair...

I slump.

And then, the inevitable voice:

– Excuse us, Miss...? A-are you alright, Miss...?

Oh shit.

The calvary has arrived. Hooray I'm saved.

Oh shit.

– It's just... we heard you shouting... and you sounded pretty upset, so...

Two bronies. They heard me shouting. One of them looks like a regular enough dude – but the other one wears a vibrant internet-order-only-type Rainbow Dash T-shirt bursting with fiery Japanese text blazing across a vivid technicolor flightpath. Tucked under his left arm is a custom, high-dollar, handmade, show-accurate Rainbow Dash plush doll.

No no no no no no no no no no no no...

I can feel his desire... the refractory period must be over again.

My body's DNA is opening up, warping itself in tune to his sick thoughts...!

Fuck.

While his friend speaks, the Rainbow Dash guy stares silently at my drenched, fearful body, grasping his plush Rainbow Dash doll tightly, gingerly stroking it with his fingertips, biting his lip. His eyes rove rapidly across my vulnerable physique, groping me in silence – from my soaked bra (my nipples now plainly visible due to the extreme moisture & a sudden foreboding pressure of hot blood now building rapidly within them) to my tight butt and back again, over and over.

I could tell he was erect.

...

I have to get out of here!!

– M-miss? Are you alright, Miss? Y-you don't look so good...

I ran.

But it was too late.

The first thing that happened is my ears began to ring. Then they began to creep upwards and grow outwards. Those sick nanobots were altering my human form into that brony's sick fantasy – and now, deep within my genetic code, my blighted body ached for it.

A familiar pressure continued to build in my chest as my already-erect nipples become supersaturated with nutrient- and hormone-rich blood, distending into agonizingly hypersensitive globules squished hard and flat against the inner scratchy lace surface of my bra. I'm dashing as fast as I can across the convention floor, searching for a restroom – any restroom – or at least a place to hide! With each running step, my overdriven nipples bounce painfully.

As I speed away from that awful brony whose unabashed gaze & undisguised lust had terrified me so, the changes his thoughts have wrought upon my DNA continue to take their terrible toll. My ears, ringing ever-more malevolently, suddenly shoot up past my temples, unraveling themselves into a wrapped conical shape. I clutch my head and scream in horror as the painful transformation completes with a sickening crunch and a loud pop, completely restructuring the shape of my aural canal. In shock, unable to run any farther, I collapse to the ground, pressing my hands upon the blasphemous abominations of cartilage that have just sprouted from my skull. I struggle in vain to compress these monstrously inhuman, catlike ears back into my scalp, but to no avail.

Worse changes were ahead. The entire lower part of my face, including my nose, slowly begins to loosen its grip from skeletal reality, feeling strangely potent and pressurized, like a held-in sneeze. A tingling sensation builds behind my nose, mounting into indescribable sinus pain. I wrinkle my nose in crumpled horror, holding those wicked nanobots back from their obscene directive as long as possible, until I couldn't hold it in any longer, and – with a sensation like dynamite being set off in my nasal passages – I sneeze.

Except it was no ordinary sneeze. This sneeze blew the bottom half of the skeletal structure of my face out of its natural alignment, blasting the lower portion of my skull into what can only be described as a sort of a diminutive half-snout. My nose, rather than the small inverted conical shape it had previously held as normal human nose, now more closely resembled the muzzle of a horse or dog – though it retained a peculiar sort of "humanness" in its relatively slight profile in relation to the rest of my aching, burning face. Even so, this new & unwelcome bulge positively dwarfs my previous olfactory equipment.

I scream.

Aware that my screams might draw a crowd, and wary of allowing anyone to witness my ongoing transfiguration, I steady myself to my feet with difficulty, doing my damnedest to run as my body persists in its unholy mutation. My equilibrium utterly shot due to a complete remodeling of my inner ear, the best I can manage is a kind of vertiginous hobble. As I limp in a direction which I pray might lead to a public restroom, I feel a profane bubbling along the ridge of my shoulders where they join my vertebrae, and at the very base of my spine right above my anus.

Gravely guessing at what the nature of these nascent diabolical appendages might be, I was unspeakably thankful to finally locate the womens' restroom.

Hurling my full weight against the door in dire desperation, I fell in.

Collapsed in the entryway, I struggle to drag myself across the white linoleum floor with what little stamina I have left, ignoring the mounting, ominous pain in my pulsating bosom.

I look around. No one else is in here.

Good.

Nubs of embryonic wings & a tail throb against the brittle barrier of my once-human skin. I've managed to pull myself as far as the first sink when every burning muscle fibre in my body gives out, its strength sapped by the three foul filaments of agonizing torture which have presently erupted from my backside: a pair of smallish, hollow, boney wings – each spanning at least twice the width of my skull – unfold bloodily from my upper spine like butterflies bursting from a meat cocoon, while my tailbone volcanically recuses itself from its proper vestigial status, severing flesh and spewing blood in its wake.

As I cower on the cold linoleum in a terrified heap – my nerve-endings having screamed themselves to the brink of a shocked numbness – my body completes its final loathsome changes.

First, with a sensation like that of being mauled by millions of tiny scratchy fleas, a number of infinitesimally minuscule hairs spring up across my shaking body, warming it slightly, uniformly light-blue across the surface of my flesh, except on the flanks of my hips, where two iconic cloud & lightning bolt emblems – immediately recognizable as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark – have emblazoned themselves.

Next, my golden-blonde hair flares into vibrant rainbow stripes of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple mane. Nearly simultaneously, my newly-elongated tailbone bursts into an equally vivid display of rainbow-streaked plumage, long and bright. The hairs of my new tail shoot out beyond my (thankfully still-human) legs & feet, flopping around erratically on the floor as my brain struggled to develop new neural pathways to allow for proper control of my new, reluctantly-acquired appendages. With a fidgeting spasm and an audible "FOOF!", my skeletal wings coat themselves in a soft down of light-blue feathers, flapping about haphazardly as new neural networks attempt to establish a connection with brand-new musculature.

As I cautiously eased myself up off the ground, my brain began to assert full & confident control over my recent additions – but the changes weren't quite over yet. I became acutely aware once more of the throbbing agony in my blood-saturated breasts, which had not relented in the slightest. My now Oreo-sized areolae continued to advance against my straining bra, which had begun to morph itself into a tighter, more flexible material even as its cups continued to grow in size, passing a D cup.

As I stood panting breathlessly, watching my tits pulse & grow in the restroom mirror, I began to fondle my swelling chest in a cruel spell of muddled agony and sudden sexual excitement. Pleasure & pain become indistinguishable. My ecstatic hands squeeze excitedly every inch of my twin burgeoning mounds of bloated titflesh, cupping and jiggling them in the palms of my hands like organic water balloons, taking special pleasure in the mindnumbing sensitivity of my engorged nipples. I pant even harder, gasping and drooling, forgetting everything about who I was or what I was or where I was or why I was, my entire universe condensed within those unbelievable nerve-endings at the tips of my mammary tissue.

My pussy oozes with pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, I conceived of the queerest notion that my hands were not really my hands. In my mind's eye I saw him: the creepy Rainbow Dash-obsessed brony guy groping my tits through my own hands, ecstatically massaging my boobs with an inexpressible joy and euphoric relief.

He was actually getting to touch his waifu!

Actually living out his impossible dream of fondling a real-life, no-shit, busty anthropomorphic Rainbow Dash in the flesh!!

My skin crawled involuntarily. My vagina dried up. My previous sexual fervor evaporated.

Immediately, I dropped my breasts back into my bra, resolving never to touch them in that way again.