Author's Note

Thank you all for your patience. Also, I wanted to start this chapter with a bit of a warning. This is the first chapter that truly warrants the 'Big Red M' of the mature rating. It's a bit out of left field compared to the mostly lighthearted comedic antics of what came before, but I wasn't really sure how to incorporate the truly 'saucy' elements of this tale until now. I hope that what I have here doesn't disappoint, but please know that I'm writing this tale largely to figure out how to write stories of a more erotic nature. I may stumble and fall a few times, but that's always the cost of improvement, and I hope to deliver higher quality content moving forward.

Thank you all again for reading!

Chapter Six

“Adjustments?” Twilight echoed as the glowing gemstone flew towards him with growing speed. “What do you mean by--”

The gemstone smacked against Twilight’s chest, striking his shirt slightly below the collar and nearly knocking him over in the process. The gleaming rock stung with a searing heat, even through the fabric. Twilight frantically attempted to pry the gem off, to back away from it, to do something to stop that scalding heat, but his fingers flinched back from an eruption of sparks. Meanwhile, the gem merely pressed against him all the harder, all the hotter. A thin vapor curled up from the point of contact, carrying an acrid scent.

“What’s it doing?!” Twilight gasped. “And what’s that smell?”

Your mortal fabric is blocking the progress of harmony, that voice whispered in Twilight’s mind once more. Such impediments are not acceptable and shall be dealt with accordingly. You might want to remove the rest of your clothes as well. They may become ill-fitting or restrictive.

“Your shirt catching fire?” Spike said, grabbing a twig from the ground and rushing Twilight, attempting to pry the gem off with the stick. However, the twig caught fire the moment it touched the gem, and whatever force propelled the gem pushed the stick roughly away and sent Spike tumbling to the ground with it.

“I’ve got this!” Rainbow Dash said, spreading his large wings and rocketing skywards. “Stay still, I’ll be right back!”

“Wait, come ba-ack!” Twilight called after Dash, only to to clasp his hands to his throat as what felt like a violent hiccup wracked through his windpipe, his voice cracking. “Don’t leave us he-re!”

Another shudder rattled its way up Twilight’s throat, causing his voice to crack again as it hadn’t since puberty. Finally, an actual hiccup erupted from Twilight’s mouth, then another, and another, and another still. With each involuntarily yelp, Twilight’s eyes widened as he felt the impossible sensation of his neck thinning in his hands, becoming slender, and in the front, decidedly flatter and smoother.

“What’s ha-ppening to me-ee?!” Twilight demanded in between bouts of increasingly higher-pitched yelps.

“Twilight, you sound...” Spike began, but couldn’t finish, his wide eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute...”

“What-ever this thing is do-ing, it ends no-ow!” Twilight snarled, too overcome by the burning on his chest to notice how high pitched and otherwise altered his voice was becoming. With each syllable, it sounded less like the smooth voice of a young stallion and more like the voice of a child attempting to sound grown up, and then the husky voice of a young, breathy mare, and then further, further, and ever further still into increasingly more feminine tones.

Ignoring the singe of the heat, Twilight shoved his hands through the sparks of the glowing gemstone and grabbed hold of it, feeling sparks and smoke from what must have once been the unburnt parts of his shirt. It fought him, but he was too overwhelmed by the adrenaline of confused frustration to let it push him off again, and so he roughly yanked it.

Unfortunately, this only resulted in causing him to gasp as if he’d been stung by the rock all over again, only this time, from the other way around. Looking down, Twilight saw that the gem had completely burned through his shirt to get at the small fluff of coat on his upper chest. Although it had miraculously somehow not burned his actual coat or skin, the gem looked smaller and of a different shape than it should have been.

Or rather, Twilight realized, part of it was hidden. Half of the gem looked to have pressed inside Twilight, the other half of its glowing, round, crystalline countenance protruding out. Pulling at it was like trying to tear off a superglued bandage. It may as well have welded itself to his body.

“What did you... Oh...” Twilight began, then stopped, then tried to speak again, before finally giving up as he at last registered what his ears were telling him.

It sounded like it should have been his voice. It said what thoughts he pushed into the world through all the right motions of his tongue and the shapes of his mouth. It spoke in perfectly matched conjunction with the subtle flexes of his inner throat and the corresponding movements of his neck. And yet, though he spoke through this voice, it was not his own. It was the voice of a young mare, undeniable as anything else.

“What did you do to my voice?!” Twilight demanded after a tense silence, glaring down at the gemstone lodged painlessly yet not exactly comfortably in his chest. “Spike, tell me you’re not hearing this!”

“If you’re referring to how you’d have a new position in the Royal Equestrian Choir, if you ever bothered to show up for it despite owning a membership card, then yes,” Spike said, staring at Twilight blankly. “I don’t think it’s just your voice, though, Twi. Your whole face looks different.”

Furrowing his brow at this unexpected remark, Twilight raised his hands to his face, not exactly sure what he should expect. Whatever it was, though, it wasn’t what he felt. His entire face felt odd to the touch and growing odder and more unfamiliar by the moment, as if some unseen cosmic baker were kneading his flesh like dough, rounding out his cheeks, smoothing the underside of his chin perhaps a bit too forcefully, pushing certain bones higher, and most of all, pushing against and pinching in the forefront of his face.

Getting a sinking feeling, Twilight crossed his eyes to see his slight but no less boxy snout pushing further back into his face and shrinking, rounding, and reshaping. By the time it was finished, Twilight’s hands felt something more akin to the button nose snout of a mare than anything he’d ever possessed. He couldn’t even feel the beard he’d worked so hard to fashion into what he’d always hoped was stylish, just a smooth underside to his newly shrunken, rounded face.

Speaking of sinking feelings, the world itself looked to be growing larger around him, until Twilight realized that it must instead be he who was becoming shorter by comparison. For what was probably no more than being a head shorter at most, the world loomed up impossibly large in Twilight’s terrified eyes, one of which twitched in an all too familiar bout of nervous spasms. The only difference was that now his twitchy eyes were rimmed by longer, darker, and thicker lashes.

A scream welled up in Twilight’s throat, his heart racing in his shrunken chest, until he shut both eyes tight, took a deep breath, and let it out with glacial slowness.

“Uh...” Spike said. “Twilight...?”

“I have to reason this out,” Twilight said in a surprisingly calm tone despite the unfamiliar voice with which it was spoken, his eyes opening at last, though unfocused, as if he was seeing elsewhere.

“Twilight?” Spike asked again. “You, er, um...”

“It looks and feels like I’m being transformed by a magical gemstone from a stallion into a mare,” Twilight went on, even when longer and thicker strands and tufts of his mane crept lower across his vision, tickling the sides of his face, and even tumbling down his neck, shoulders, and upper back. “Obviously, this is a completely ridiculous proposition that cannot possibly have any basis in fact.”

“Twilight?” Spike asked again, his voice sounding a bit more urgent. “Maybe you should look down...”

“Hypothesis one,” Twilight said. “I’m experiencing a fever dream while sick in my bed, still in Canterlot and still physically male.”

Yes, that sounded far more plausible than this chaotic reality. Twilight was at home in bed, sick and feverish. He had to be. He could already feel what he hoped was actually reality seeping in, the unpleasant but at least real heat of the fever, the sensation of being lost in warm blankets as he tossed and turned fitfully beneath the covers. Blankets that at first felt too large, and then too tight. Too constrictive. No matter which way he turned, they grew tighter, wrapping around him, strangling him with a hot, sweaty mix of shock and unexpected exertion.

The heat kept rising like a furnace through his skin. Twilight at last turned his attention downwards, half expecting to see steam rising off his coat as he tossed and turned in his cozy bed in Canterlot...

Only, that’s not what he saw. Not at all.

Twilight was still very much lost in the Everfree Forest with a crazed magical gemstone lodged in his chest. More precisely, what would have been between his pectoral muscles if he had ever gained definition there and lost the lanky, wiry countenance he seemed to have been eternally saddled with in his late teen years.

Only, his chest was gaining definition now, just not necessarily with any focus on musculature. Twilight’s eyes widened like a deer blinded by the blaze of an oncoming forest fire, unable to flee, unable to move, but helpless to watch as it overtook him.

Though Twilight’s narrower, shrunken shoulders practically swam in his suddenly oversized shirt, his chest was swelling larger, slowly yet with increasing speed. With each passing breath, more soft, supple flesh seeped into the growing mounds on his chest, filling them out rounder, larger, fuller, and heavier. They pulled downwards against his upper torso, moreso with each moment. They rubbed against the gemstone wedged between them at the crest of Twilight’s deepening cleavage, as well as each other. Twilight’s breasts, for what else could they be, pushed against the remnants of his shirt, their swollen tips making little tents in the fabric.

With that, Twilight’s mind finally snapped.

Screaming, he backpedalled, turned, and ran. Whether he was trying to run away from his own shifting body or simply so full of shock and adrenaline that it was an instinctive response, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had grown a pair of breasts, and they jostled and bounced like mad with each step, against themselves and against the rest of him, the fabric of his shirt sliding across them with heightened yet no less alien sensations. They practically had their own personal laws of inertia, always chasing his movements a heartbeat out of sync before catching up, continuing, and finally bouncing back.

“Twilight, stop!” Spike cried, chasing after him. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

“If I smack myself in the face with these?!” Twilight shouted back.

“No, your pants are too big now!” Spike said. “You’re going to --”

As if on cue, Twilight completed Spike’s sentence for him via demonstration, tripping over the now too long and too large ends of his pant legs and sending him tumbling to the ground. Twilight broke most of the fall with his outstretched hands, but that didn’t stop his new bosom from receiving more than its fair share of the impact as well, sending a piercing sting through him.

“Why don’t these soften the fall?” Twilight mumbled through another mouthful of dirt and underbrush. “Why do they make it worse?!”

“They’re not airbags,” Spike said. “Maybe you’d know that if you ever took Moon Dancer up on her skinny dipping invitations.”

“Wrong time to mention that,” Twilight grumbled as he struggled back up into a sitting position, looking as if he was about to launch into another retort before his voice caught in his throat, his eyes grew wide, and his face flushed red. “Spike, I think you should leave.”

“Why, what’s--”

“Go stand by that tree!” Twilight interrupted. “Don’t look back!”

Spike looked about to protest, but seeing the look of desperation and discomfort on Twilight’s face, relented and headed off.

Making sure Spike was far enough away and not peeking, Twilight forced himself to look down once more. Past his new breasts, his already thin torso cinched even more tightly inwards at the waist, any excess mass pushing down to force his legs apart as his hips widened. The sudden change nearly knocked the wind out of Twilight, though it wasn’t as bad as the tight strangle his pants suddenly had on his protesting hips. Soon, Twilight’s hips were joined in their revolt against his clothing by his thickening, softening thighs and equally swelling posterior, each pushing softly against the forest floor.

Trying to release some of the tension, Twilight struggled to shove his pants down, finally freeing his curvier lower body with a burst of relief. Twilight could feel the changes further rippling down his legs, shrinking his calves, making his hooves a bit smaller as well, fluffing up tufts of his coat at his fetlocks.

Nevertheless, Twilight’s face still burned as it had since he ordered Spike away. More than just the sensations of his own shifting flesh, Twilight had felt the rhythmic pulse of something else rising steadily within him. Parts of it were recognizable as arousal, but parts of it were too intense for that, touching deeper, if not outright inverted in their nature. His insides felt warmer by the moment, not to mention... Squishier?

“What is happening to me?” Twilight whispered to himself as he felt the oddly pleasurable pressure building up deep inside him, soon overflowing to manifest itself in perhaps the one yet untouched part of his anatomy.

As terrified of intimacy or even the mere idea of sex as he may have been, Twilight was no stranger to getting an erection. From the purely scholarly perspective, it was a rush of blood and biological preparations to the male reproductive organ known as the penis, readying it for a release of sexual fluids and a rewarding rush of endorphins. From the perspective of an awkward young man who was regularly horny despite his self-imposed celibacy, he knew he was getting a hard on and on the verge of blowing his load.

Twilight’s penis, or dick, or whatever his frazzled mind wanted to call it, positively throbbed. Now exposed to the open air, it looked more erect, hard, and pent up than he’d ever seen it, practically pulsating, a watery film coating its tip.

And yet, Twilight felt no relief, no gooey white explosion of his load. He didn’t even know how he could be so aroused, hornier than he’d ever felt in his life, at such a bizarre time as this.

Almost finished, that voice whispered in Twilight’s mind. Preparing to expel all unnecessary elements before the final reconstructure.

Twilight grunted. Or, perhaps, his body grunted and Twilight was merely along for the ride, his body acting completely divorced from his rational mind. He felt his testicals tightening in their sack. He felt his dick rushing as the largest orgasm he’d ever experienced wracked through his body and spewed out onto the forest floor between his fuller thighs. It didn’t stop, not for several moments, several more grunts, several more shudders in which his eyes felt like they would roll so far back in his head they’d see his brain having turned into a gooey mush.

It felt amazing.

But also horrible.

An explosion of ecstasy the likes of which poets of old would die to achieve, to capture in words.

His body turning against him, taking control, his hips bucking wildly in the air at nothing.

Even worse, the horror didn’t end after he’d released the last drop.

As Twilight felt the last of what must have been every last bit of seed he’d had in him at the moment drain out, the pounding, hard heat retreated into a pulsing, soft fire. He watched helpless as his spent dick shrank and softened, swallowed up into his flesh as were his testicles. Everything shifted lower, flattened into a firm yet puffy mound. Twilight felt an opening sensation that tunneled ever upwards, his insides churning as what was absorbed reshaped itself.

Exhausted and feeling like he’d just run a marathon, Twilight collapsed backwards. Falling from sitting on the forest floor to fully lying back on it, his breasts heaved as he breathed haggardly.

His every bodily sensation confirmed what his mind already knew to be true; he was now completely physically female. Nothing was left between his legs but what his scholarly mind would call a vagina. What his cultured sensibilities would refer to as maidenhood at their most crass. What most stallions his age called a pussy.

“I’m back!” Rainbow Dash’s voice announced as a blur of sky blue feathers and multi-colored hair sped into view, pushing a small, dark storm cloud before them. “This’ll put out that fire!”

With a quick stomp from above, the cloud poured rain, soaking Twilight and what was left of his clothes.

“A little late for the cold shower, Dash,” Twilight grumbled.