Chapters The Eronomicon.
Its name strikes lust into the hearts of all who know of its secrets.
And now, Raymond's whole body surged with its eldritch power.
Meticulously, his plan had unfurled – after weeks of Dark Web research, Raymond had sought the ancient book at a sparsely-attended, sparsely-supervised travelling exhibit on early pagan literature that had arrived the State University Library. He had placed his left hand upon its 69th page, and he had recited the occult incantation perfectly as rehearsed. He had shuddered to feel the vortex of secret energy surge upwards from the ragged parchment into his arm, swirling silently within him, flooding his body with the pulsing spirit of The Eronomicon.
His plan was almost complete.
All Raymond now had to do was step into the next room, where he knew Kairi would be sitting down, studying for her chemistry class. It was Friday; he had known she would be there – and he had seen her there just moments ago, just before he had stepped into the Grand Exhibition Hall. He had nursed an obsessive crush on her ever since high school. They had rarely spoke, but Raymond had always admired her from afar, as she had laughed and flirted and dated other men. She was infinitely more popular than he.
But today – at long last – she would be his.
The power Raymond had received was the power to gratify one's innermost fantasies. With just a single glance, Kairi would begin her transformation into that which Raymond desired most – and yet, since she already met his ideal form to the letter, he knew that it would only be Kairi's mind which would change... as she surely would begin to fall deeply in love with Raymond and Raymond alone, just like in his dreams... Day by day, Kairi's thoughts would become more & more obsessive, as her lustful desires mounted... She would begin to fantasize about him, wishing desperately to become his love-slave... Eventually, she'd be begging for his cock... Her mental transformation only ceasing when their desires at last became consummated...
Raymond's pants felt tight with anticipation.
He licked his lips.
Then, with a rush of cool air, Raymond pushed open the great oak doors which led back to the Study Hall.
He stepped over the threshold.
...
There she was.
There, across the room – radiant as always with her gold, sunny curls, her stylish outfit and that trim, athletic figure – Kairi sat alone, dutifully thumbing her way through a huge textbook at one of the long plywood study tables. She didn't look up, notice or acknowledge Raymond at all.
According to his Dark Web sources, the first person Raymond laid eyes on would be the one to receive the magic of the encantation swirling within him. Raymond's gaze fixed upon Kairi immediately as he prepared to feel the rush of invisible energy exit his body to enter hers, supernaturally fusing his own long-hidden desires with her body's mental & genetic programming... Raymond braced himself...
And then...
Nothing happened.
…?
Raymond was confused.
He focused his gaze on Kairi even harder, still feeling the swirling vortex of magic energy within him.
…
Nothing.
What was going on? Why wasn't it working...?
Raymond felt a little silly now, staring across the hall at the girl of his dreams, still brimming with a strange energy – and nothing was happening. What was wrong? Was there some final step he'd forgotten? Raymond's mind raced...
Suddenly, a force like a thousand pins and needles searing into every pore of his flesh swarmed into his system from an unknown source. With an ancient yet oddly familiar sensation, the simmering energy in Raymond's core fused with this new intrusion like the union of two long-lost lovers, the dark vortex within burbling up in an instant to meet the bright piercing spirit from without. The two merged forces, reunited, dispersed and flowed at once throughout Raymond's terrified anatomy in a blazing heat of forbidden passion, bending his mind & soul into a gagging swoon, nearly knocking Raymond off his feet.
And then, it was over.
...
What the hell was that?
Massaging his temples and tying to shake it off, Raymond still tingled with a fading, prickly energy that now felt somehow deeply integrated within every cell of his body. His innards trembled with uncertainty.
Looking up front of him, Kairi still hadn't budged at all, remaining utterly unaware of Raymond's presence across the room.
Then, Raymond's eyes darted off to the side.
And...
There, sitting at a remote table against a far wall, Raymond saw a gangly, pale-faced, pasty, awkward, nerdy-looking freshman boy avert his gaze meekly – apparently, the boy had just glanced up briefly to see who had walked in. He wore a dumb-looking shirt with some stupid cartoon on it or something.
Raymond scratched his head, still not really sure what the hell had just happened.
Whatever.
It was getting late. Raymond decided to just cut his losses, go home and get some rest. He was feeling pretty exhausted all of the sudden anyway... He'd probably do some extra research tomorrow to try and get to the bottom of what could've gone wrong...
Raymond yawned.
Too self-conscious and afraid to try and say hello to Kairi (who still barely knew he existed anyhow), Raymond quietly sidled out a side-door into a musty concrete relief-staircase that would take him down to the ground floor.
Back in the Study Hall, turning over another page of his homework, the pale boy in the corner coughed.
***
That night...
The weird tingling sensation in Raymond's flesh didn't seem to want to go away. Worse yet, the dull, spinning sensation in his skull had steadily congealed itself into a splitting headache – so bad, his forehead practically felt like it could burst open at any moment.
A grey fever enshrouded Raymond's senses. His flesh crawled, clammy with icy chills.
It felt... uncanny.
Raymond wrapped himself up in several blankets and crawled onto his apartment couch to get some rest, shivering from an eerie, soft burning and sickly sensation now flourishing throughout his entire system.
Just a cold... or the flu or something...
Laying his head down on a pillow, everything swirled into a hazy swoon.
Overtaken by an all-encompassing, marrow-deep exhaustion, Raymond fell asleep, tossing & turning in uneasy slumber.
…
Raymond's dreams that night were... bizarre.
In one dream, someone he cared for deeply kept calling out for him in agony, desperate for some form of reunification... but they were locked behind some insurmountable barrier. With each & every mounting, desperate cry of need heard from this lost one, a piece of Raymond's soul seemed to melt away in sympathetic grief and compassion until soon enough Raymond's entire dream-body was a warm, indistinct puddle of steaming, fluid mush – finally able to slip in-between the cracks at last, squelching along like a giant viscous amoeba, or something... on a soul-consuming mission to caress & console this missing, desperate, forlorn other-half – no matter what the cost, to give absolutely everything to rescue this dearest one...
This dream was forgotten as soon as it was over.
The next morning, Raymond felt like he'd been hit by a bus.
A disorienting soreness pulsed throughout his entire body, flooding his whole system with a woozy, dehydrated, buzzing anxiety. His inner-ear swirled, making him feel dizzy. His stomach churned – for several agonizing moments, he felt right on the verge of vomiting.And strangely enough, his ass ached – or, more specifically, his lower back: right around his tailbone, which felt hampered by some odd kind of unfamiliar... pressure.
Sitting up, Raymond groaned.
His forehead felt as if it had been split open – a throbbing pain rippled throughout his frontal scalp, His pelvic floor felt sore and kind of itchy, and numb, almost like he'd been kicked hard in the nuts the night before. His right hand reached down to scratch at the offending area.
But what his fingers found... was not what they expected.
Raymond's hand recoiled.
Then, a digital double-take.
No.
No...!
It was gone.
...
His penis, his balls, everything... it was gone.
All of it.
And, in it's place...
Soft lips.
Delicate folds.
A deep, senstive gash...
A narrow slit, rimmed with soft, puffy lips, tender to the touch.
...
Raymond had a vagina.
He screamed.
But the scream was not his scream. No 19-year-old male could ever scream like that. The scream was too high, too shrill, too piercing... too female.
...
Raymond was a girl.
But that wasn't even theworst of it...
Everything in his apartment felt weirdly proportioned... everything seemed bigger than it should be... or maybe – no... – he was... smaller?
Bolting to his feet, Raymond rushed to the bathroom to assess the full extent of the damage – only to discover that his entire sense of balance was completely shot. Something crucial in his inner-ear had definitely changed, as he struggled to orient himself amidst alien feedback from his diminished frame. Nothing felt right – even the bare soles of his feet seemed awkwardly miniature as they padded quick & unsteady against the beige carpet. Skidding into the linoleum-tiled hallway, a sudden loud crash behind him drew his attention to a smashed table lamp in his wake.
What the...?
Looking back, Raymond was aghast to discover the horrifying source of the ominous weight he'd earlier felt troubling his tailbone...
A tail.
Shimmering violet, coiled into tight, buoyant spirals, sticking out a full 3 feet behind him, bobbing & swaying to the rhythm of his gait...
A fucking tail.
Raymond careened into the restroom and flicked on the light (tail colliding with the doorknob), and there, in the mirror...
Raymond recoiled instinctively, clutching at his chest (distressingly puffier than usual) with one hand and clenching the other tight into a fist – fight or flight –
He gasped.
There in the mirror, a look of terror tinged with disgust on its mutant face, was.... well, it wasn't exactly human... but...
In most respects, the figure in the mirror resembled your typical 19-year-old girl – maybe just a few inches shorter than average. But her flesh was snow white, unnaturally white... and out of her forehead jutted some alien, bonelike appendage – no... a unicorn horn – and her ears... no mere human had ears like that... and her face – was that a snout? And her big blue eyes ... and her glistening purple hair.. . and that tail...
And...
That thing... it... she... was him.
Raymond screamed.
The wrong page.
It had been the wrong page.
Somehow, the Dark Web resource Raymond had consulted had managed to mix up the translations for two pages of The Eronomicon .
Page 68 had contained the charm to “Win the Heart of She Who Sits Before You” – the spell Raymond had actually intended to cast.
Page 69 contained... a different spell.
A traditional spell apparently intended for loyal young wives eager to please their husbands...
A spell of great sexual potency...
A fertility spell.
The translated, adapted text, in part, read:
“This Enchantment shall Bless she who invokes it with Shape & Soul to fulfill her lover's deepest Fantasies, gifting her with stoutest Womb to bear most lavishly the many Fruits of her master's Seed, her Body, Mind, & World becoming ever more Ideal so as to better please her Beloved's deepest Desire until a most fertile Union is met.”
Too terrified to face the freakish new reality of that awful morning, Raymond had spent the bulk of the day hiding out in bed, dropping in and out of fitful bursts of sleep and the nothingness of unconsciousness. Raymond had prayed that it would all be just a dream. But now, perched before an ivory reflection in the cold bathroom mirror, Raymond had little choice but to contemplate in full the ramifications of his – or, rather... her – present reality...
Obviously, the plan to capture Kairi's heart had gone completely awry, and Ray had cursed her own damn self with a fucking fertility spell.
But why now did she – no, he... – look like... this?
Something wasn't adding up.
Ray's new body was slender and anthropomorphic, like some... nerdy shut-in's sexy fanart of a favorite cartoon character or something. Big, serious eyes looked back at Ray from within the icy mirror, big blue eyes rimmed by luxurious eyelashes, highlighted by what seemed to be a permanent, “natural” eyeshadow – in fact, Ray's new face, despite its total weirdness , appeared strangely beautiful, slender and feminine, staring back at him with a penetrating, haughty gaze. Even the small snout Ray now possessed seemed dainty its its demure proportion to the rest of her nigh-uncannily symmetrical facial features.
She was... pretty.
Ray blushed.
...
Ray hated his new body. He hated the way his brain now definitely felt... strangely different, in a distant sort of way. His mind seemed to be having trouble adapting to this new shape – vague, unfamiliar thoughts and sensations seemed to drift up from her brain stem, tricking her – no, him, dammit...! – into thinking alien thoughts & feeling alien sensations.
Why the hell had sh... he blushed just now...?
A grave countenance of existential concern creased his face.
To Ray's great dismay, “a grave countenance of existential concern” ended up looking more like a sultry pout on the freak-girl's face in the mirror...
Inhuman ears, inhuman snout, inhuman horn, inhuman tail ... what on earth could be the cause of all this?
None of these things had anything to do with fertility...
Seeing all the damage done to his body the previous night made Ray sick with anxiety and disgust – worse yet, his mind kept imagining and reliving the horrific events which must have unfolded while he slept... the way his body had withered down from a respectable, masculine 6'1” to this flimsy, dainty 5'2” frame... the way his bones had betrayed him, squishing & grinding themselves into this new feminine, unfamiliar shape... the unicorn horn bursting from the crest of his skull like a drill slowly in the night... the way his spinal cord had spiraled out from his tailbone to give him the unwanted “gift” of a lavish purple tail... the way his scalp had flourished with lush waves of shiny, coiling mane... all happening in slow-motion as he had been asleep the night before...
This couldn't actually be happening – this had to be all just some sick nightmare...!
Ray pinched herself at her waist.
It hurt.
She let out a little girlish yelp of pain.
So much for that idea...
Several other ominous details troubled Ray more still. Sparkling, azure, triple-diamond tattoos now emblazoned her hips – and they hadn't been there that morning. So her body was still changing... And her outfit had changed too – she'd woken up late that afternoon wearing nothing but a little black push-up bra and a tight black thong – lingerie which had appeared from out of nowhere.
And – she wasn't absolutely sure, but...
Her chest felt fuller, too.
...
In fact, now that she thought about it, her whole “bust-waist-hips ratio” was definitely different than it had been just hours before.
That morning, her physique had been... (Ray racked her brain) – girlish yet petite... maybe a little underdeveloped... but definitely “cute.” Sort of beanpole-ish, like a healthy but late-blooming high schooler maybe... and even though she'd tried her damndest to ignore the fact, but her chest had swollen into a small pair of budding breasts – maybe an A cup or a B cup – but now...
Now, the figure in the mirror traced with sickening allure a comely S-shape – a tiny waist, tinier than before, framed by wider, more defined hips – and, most upsettingly – a “respectable” set of C- or D-cup breasts, dainty little apple-sized mounds pushed up into squishy, tantalizing fullness by her constricting little bra.
She had cleavage.
Ray's appearnce that morning had been “cute”... but now, she was downright hot.
The base of her brain tingled with something like primitive reptilian pride, even as her cerebral cortex reeled with disgust and fear.
Ray's blood ran cold.
She had to get this figured out... and get back to being her normal male self – immediately, if possible. Ray's mind felt foggy.
The girl in the mirror squirmed.
Her pert little breasts jostled slightly in their cups.
There was no way she could go outside looking like... this.
Every man she saw would be probably be thinking (subconsciously, anyway) about using her as his personal cock-warmer... – at least, when Ray had still had his dick, that's what he would have been thinking about, anyway...
The mere sight of a body like... this... would probably be enough to get most guys super-hard...
Hard...
Ray's body started to tingle.
Thoughtlessly, her slender fingers brushed across the smooth surface of her soft inner thigh. Her whole body trembled involuntarily. Her smooth, milkwhite skin... everything felt so sensitive , now... her nipples stiffened in their little black cups, tickling the latex foam inner surface... her face twinged, mouth hanging open, her eyes shut... absentmindedly her hand continued to tease her ticklish inner thigh – moving closer & closer to her crotch, indulging her dopamine receptors without thinking... her tail swished itself softly across the countertop, wagging and batting itself against the tile of the far wall... a wiggly shudder wisped its way down her spine... her brainstem beginning to prickle with pleasure... even more delicious, unfamiliar-yet-familiar sensations starting to stir, percolating like a warm, hungry deliciousness further below...
All at once, Ray's face twisted with revulsion.
No.
Fuck this body.
Raymond had to get his dick back.
...
Thinking back to yesterday evening, Raymond racked her brain, trying to retrace her steps... she... no!! – he ... he had walked back into the Study Hall and reopened his eyes to cast the love-spell on Kairi, but nothing had happened... she never even noticed he was there... and then...
Another's eyes had seen him.
That dorky freshman in the corner.
And then... the fertility spell pent up within Ray's body had responded.
That had to be it – like a mocking inverse of the love-charm, the fertility spell must have been activated by sight – but not Raymond's sight...
That dweeby kid in the fucking corner: Ray's body's new master.
Ray gagged involuntarily.
So this... this...
The cartoon figure in the mirror shivered, big anime eyes wide with horror. An alien earflap twitched.
This is that... that LOSER's sexual fantasy...
Raymond was turning into some weirdo-geek's wet dream !!
Her body trembled.
That kid had to... had to be some fucking furry or something... rhino-horn-cat-girl fetish? Some sort of mouse-fox-narwhal-girl? What the hell was she...?
Her hair and tail and face looked somehow... familiar...
Or no... wait...
Everything clicked.
That dude's shirt. The cartoon on his shirt – it had been a unicorn.
Raymond remembered now:
My Little Pony.
It had been extremely popular, like, ten years ago or something. It had been all over the Internet in middle school. Raymond remembered now. Who the hell but the biggest loser in the universe would still be fawning over that godawful show?? Raymond, a film major whose tastes had long ago evolved well beyond such simple, autistic kiddie faire, felt like vomiting.
He groaned.
High female voice. Haughty and flustered-sounding...
…
Rarity.
That was it. That was the character's name. Rarity. That was the character that had been on that fucking freakboy's stupid fucking cartoon pony shirt. It had been ages since Raymond had heard the name, but now it was all coming back, although Raymond wished it wouldn't. He had always hated that show, and all of its fans, but its online ubiquity had proven inescapable. He knew the names of the main characters, at least, in spite of his best efforts to ignore all the memes and obnoxious hugbox brony fanboy trash.
And now...
Raymond was a pony-girl.
Her fingers flicked at her horn, wincing at the creepy, unfamiliar sensation of stiff cartilage jutting up from the center of her skull. Her nails, now long and apparently permanently painted violet, clacked against the hard surface, sending an uncanny shudder down to the base of her spine.
A fucking unicorn, no less...
Rarity.
That's who he looked like, now...
One equine ear flicked cat-like, involuntarily, against his scalp. Her crotch still felt soft and... “moisturey”... from when she'd lost control a couple minutes ago.
...
Raymond made a silent promise:
She would find a way to turn back into a man.
She would find a way out of this fucking nightmare.
...?
HE would find some way out of this fucking nightmare.
Ray's chest rose and fell in the mirror in time with their reluctant owner's bated breath.
Somehow...
"Well now, Miss..."
The doctor's hand flipped over a page of the clipboard, eyes glancing down.
"Miss Raechel... We've run a full-panel blood test, urinalysis... pap-smear... and triple-checked your x-rays... and everything seems to be in order...! As far as we can tell, you're a just perfectly normal, healthy little... er, young... lady – and that's all there is to it!”
He smiled: empty smile.
The dim fluorescent lighting buzzed.
The weekend wasn't even over, and still Ray's situation was getting worse. The State University Library's Exhibition Hall was closed on Sundays – and Ray couldn't find a way to break in, either (yes, she had actually kinda-sorta considered doing this). In desperation, she had checked herself in for an emergency appointment at the State University Clinic, feeling quite certain that a doctor would recognize the gravity of her bizarre, accursed condition.
All she needed was someone who could pull some strings for her, get her back in to that Exhibition Hall... just one more shot with the Eronomicon, and she knew could reverse the spell... she'd learned the proper incantation and everything... and yet...
Ray bit her lip, genuinely struggling to restrain her astonishment.
"R-really? Nothing unusual at all?"
He shook his head.
"Nope! You seem to be a-ok...!"
She tilted her head skeptically, hands fidgeting in her lap.
The cold air in the doctor's office was making her shiver. She had stripped down to her underwear for her physical examination, and now she sat uneasily, half-naked, apprehensive and bewildered on the edge of the sterilized examination table. She could feel the long hairs in her mane and tail beginning to stand on end. She kicked her feet idly.
"So... let me get this straight... You don't think there's anything... weird... AT ALL... about the fact that I have, ooh, you know... –” She rolled her eyes. “ – a big ol' unicorn horn sticking straight out of my forehead...? Or that I have pony ears and a snout...? How about the fact that I have – oh, I don't know... – an honest-to-god actual fucking tail – hmmm...?"
...
The doctor looked dumbfounded. and more than a little concerned.
"Erm... I'm sorry, but... ah... I don't like to make a habit of critiquing my patients' physical appearance, ma'am – at least, not unless there's something of, err... medical importance to discuss – like, say, if you happened to be overweight, or malnourished, for instance...?"
It was Ray''s turn to be confused.
Her big blue eyes narrowed into slits.
"You seriously don't think there's anything... strange... at all... about me having a horn and a tail...?"
Ray's voice was not “his” own – the voice belonged to Rarity: a cartoon horse in a stupid old meme-bait kid's show Ray had never even liked.
The doctor shook his head, genuinely disconcerted by her line of questioning, as if she'd been complaining about having eyes, arms, legs, and a torso.
He shuffled once more through pages of the clipboard, mostly just for show.
He sighed.
"Erm... The ivory, er... cartilage & marrow in your horn seem perfectly sound, quite rigid and sturdy... your ears show no signs of infection or blockage... and yourtail is in excellent condition as well..."
He looked up, shaking his head.
"Like I said, you're in great shape – certain the healthiest young woman I've seen in my office today... maybe even this month, as a matter of fact..."
He mustered a feeble smile, failing to disguise a growing concern for her mental wellbeing.
And such an exceptionally attractive young lady, too... such a shame...
Useless.
This man was useless.
Ray knew that something... many things... were very, VERY deeply wrong – even moreso than last night, which had been horrific enough... For one thing, checking Facebook this morning, she had discovered that her name had somehow been altered – from Raymond, to Raechel. In a panic, she had checked her birth certificate, bank account, and drivers' license as well... all of them confirming the worst: in the eyes of the world, her name was now Raechel.
Stranger still, her apartment itself was now completely alien. Gone were all her treasured childhood video games, gone was her extensive VHS and DVD collection, gone were the sticky piles of paper plates and empty pizza boxes... gone were all the dingy artifacts of a young college bachelor's grungy existence... and in their place, the frilly, ornate, immaculately restored antique furnishings of a tasteful young female socialite had proliferated. Fashion magazines, romance novels, recipe books, and classical literature now overflowed from unfamiliar bookshelves. Fluffy pink heart-shaped pillows replaced greasy take-out boxes, whitewashed stucco vanished behind sheaths of floral wallpaper, and the even the bench-press & weight-set had been replaced by a fucking piano.
And...
Her body was still changing, too.
As if co-opted by some bizarre, virulently aggressive hormonal coup – or maybe something like an artificial second puberty – her lissome figure had blossomed still further overnight, subtly yet noticeably. An even bigger, puffier bust, smaller waist, wider hips – all the surface signals of an exceptionally fertile, sexually mature young female...
Ray hated it.
For one thing, she knew it was all just further fetish-fantasy wish-fulfillment bullshit meant for the express benefit of pleasing that goddamn windowlicking furry freak who had cursed her with this whole predicament in the first place.
She felt like a living, breathing anime figurine.
Adding insult to injury, just as she'd feared, her cross-campus trek from the Library to the Clinic had yielded an uncomfortable amount of stares – and not just hungry looks from horny dudes, but also angry, jealous glares from their flustered girlfriends. There was no denying it: her new body seemed to be a magnet for... unwelcome attention.
She glanced down at her chest. Her boobs really were starting to look kind of big against her tiny little torso, squishing up nicely into plump little mounds whenever she squeezed her shoulders together. The way they stuck out from her chest wall, two soft bulbs of flesh, full & substantial with their own soft weight, filling up the nylon of her snug little sports bra – her figure looked like it belonged on an Instagram model... or a Barbie doll.
She felt like crying.
What if she was trapped like this... forever...?
And...
How much worse were things going to get for her before this was all over...?
Terror seized her heart.
Ray hung her head quietly. Spiral streams of glistening purple mane glid down over her face, hiding wide, sparkling reservoirs of fear. Her body was a prison. Her cells were flush with foreign, threatening hormones, chipping away steadily at her very mind, personality, and identity. She imagined she could feel them even now, infused with an evil magic – coursing through her bloodstream, marshaling her biological & mental resources toward depraved, lascivious ends...
Ray's hand scratched at her chest. Her breasts throbbed with dull, itchy tightness in her DD cup sports bra. She knew it was probably a sign that they were still growing – plumping themselves up on her body's nutrients in a bid to advertise her fertility to the one whose gaze had cursed her DNA into becoming a sick mirror for his own kinky subconscious fetish-fantasies... She couldn't imagine ever getting used to the way these things... felt on her chest – the weird, feminine sensation of having these two little weights tugging against her torso all the time, bobbing softly in place whenever she walked – almost as if they each had a mind of their own... and yet, these things were part of her...
Ray looked up.
The doctor's gaze darted off to the side.
Unaware of himself, for a brief moment the doctor's instinct-driven eyes had tempted him into ogling his patient's chest.
Ray blushed involuntarily. She felt her nipples stiffen up quickly against her will, pressing themselves into the fabric of her bra until – to her absolute horror and embarrassment – their perky little outline was actually visibly poking up against the material. Apparently, despite its “owner's” wishes, Ray's new body loved being at the center of male attention...
...
It just wasn't fair.
A huge, single teardrop dripped from her oversized cornea. Splashing down onto her upper bustline, a puddle of cold wetness slid... slowly, surely... and then dribbled down all at once, disappearing silently down the gentle, sensitive slope of her cleavage.
She shivered.
Fuck everything.
“I hate this stupid fucking body!” Ray blurted in a burst of rage.
“I hate being a girl... and I hate looking like a fucking freak! Everything just feels so... just... so wrong...! It's... it's like... reality's falling apart and there's nothing I can do... I mean, um...”
Ray's snout sniffled.
She paused.
An icy gust of air conditioning bristled at her bare flesh. Ray nervously brushed a coifed ringlet of violet curl from her shoulder. She felt naked, exposed... and she couldn't shake the paranoid notion that the doctor's eyes kept stealing more surreptitious glances at her tits... and although she did her best consciously to avert her eyes, her new female lizard-brain kept pulling her gaze towards the doctor's rather bulgy crotch... he did seem rather gentle, kind and authoritative, and thoroughly professional... and most likely he was very well-off, maybe even rich... the kind of man who could most certainly provide very well for any woman he might choose to take in under his umbrella...
Her body was still trembling.
...
What the hell was she thinking? This guy couldn't help her at all.
Ray wiped a final tear from her other eye.
Time to man up. She was acting like a girl...
Fuck.
These fucking hormones...
Stunned, anxious fingers drummed on the doctor's clipboard.
"Erm... You seem to have quite a great deal of insecurity about your, ah... physical features... have you ever spoken with a therapist or a psychiatrist about this? I'm beginning to think you may be suffering from some form of body dysmorphia... or perhaps..."
He bit his tongue to restrain himself from speculating further. Nearly every girl he talked to these days seemed insane or unbalanced in some way or another... Best leave that to the relevant specialist – this young lady was quite obviously mentally unwell. Yes, that was the proper protocol...
“Here...”
With clinical efficiency, the doctor scribbled a quick note.
“Whenever you feel up to it... feel free to take this message from me up to the Psychiatric Wing on the third floor. It's a referral – they should be able to help you out a great deal better than I can, help your process some of those more difficult emotions you've been expressing to me...”
With calculated care, the doctor placed a sympathetic hand on his patient's trembling shoulder. Ray's body flinched at his touch.
“There, there, now... it's all going to be alright... We're all here to help you...”
Ray looked up at the doctor's mechanical, “reassuring” smile.
Ray, stale moisture still glistening in the corners of her eyes, couldn't think of anything to say... so she feigned a smile too.
“T-thank you, Doctor...”
Missing time.
Rae was missing time.
Today was Tuesday – and she couldn't remember a thing about Monday.
What the hell had she done that day?
Mindless birds chirped outside, singing earnest praises to the morning sun. Slumped in repose on her opulent four-post queen-sized canopy bed, Rae racked her brain to try and remember... something, flicking at the mauve rococo-patterned curtains absentmindedly with her tail. Glints of beaming sunlight danced on her bedspread. Its subtle warmth was heavenly, gleaming brightly across her sleek bonewhite skin... She squirmed, relishing the scrumptious radiance of the warm glow washing over her body like a steamy shower...
…?
She'd just woken up, and she was having real trouble keeping he mind focused.
Yesterday.
Had she tried to undo the curse?
Had she re-reached the Eronomicon?
Had she even left the house at all yesterday?
And if she had ... what had she done?
...
She shuddered.
All she could remember was last night's dream.
It was weird.
Alone, adrift on lonely boats of ice, beset by a blizzard of snow, her soul had wept pitifully for the Sun. She feared she may freeze to death, surrounded by huge, glacial torrents of frigid snowdrifts. Then, struck with sudden inspiration, she began rolling the snow into huge, heavy snowballs to build a makeshift igloo, which – as dictated by dream-logic – she somehow just knew would curry the Sun's favor, summoning the piercing rays of Midsummer to rescue her at last from the storm, once he had seen the beauty of her handiwork... Then (she remembered): the blazing heat of a brilliant, radiant crimson Sun bursting through the dreary cloudcover, melting away all of her icy misery, and – sweet release! – the holy warmth within her body began to grow; strangely ecstatic, her heart & soul had swooned with strange, pure profane joy, filling up fuller, fuller, ever-fuller, filled to burst with the huge, powerful, hallowed, holy searing light of the Sun... and then... well...
She woke up.
Stupid fucking dream.
Today...
Today, Rae would make it to the Library – yes – today for certain. After all, this awful, accursed body was definitely seriously beginning to affect her brain – even her dreams were getting twisted into ever-more bizarre and ridiculous nonsense. She needed out.
And yet...
Raechel still felt that delicious warm glow in the pit of her stomach.
It felt like butterflies... a soft, delectable, wonderfully pulsing, full, sinking feeling – like whirling over a hill on a rollercoaster... or maybe more like a warm, gooey apple pie...
Then, she realized: her whole midsection really was burning up. Her entire lower torso was like an oven.
...
My God, was she in heat?
Instantly, Rae's inner “warm feeling” evaporated – doused completely by an abrupt ice-bucket of self-conscious disgust. Suddenly, the girly, baroque patterns of her bedsheets seemed terrifyingly alien and threatening – tokens of a dangerous, menacing new false reality.
She sprang to her feet.
Raemond – cringing with existential dread – was fully awake at last.
This body was a trap...
This evil, curse-conjured new Universe was surely conspiring to push her further & further into this nightmarish new reality... it wanted her to be female, to stay female... and apparently, to be horny and sexually primed at all times for some random dude she'd never even met...
She had to keep her wits about her.
Rae's bare feet padded deftly on fluffy indigo carpeting, carrying her to a full-length hot-pink vanity mirror cabinet (which, like the bed, surely hadn't been there last week). Prying open the heart-engraved cabinet door with one arm outstretched, Rae stared blankly at the frowning spectre of her own reflection. Her eyes seemed glazed over, adrift in uncanny gloom – big, round, sad, pretty eyes... the eyes of a terrified college dude, trapped in the body of a stupid fetish-fanart cartoon horse-girl...
Rae's gaze drifted downwards.
She groaned.
Compared to the day before yesterday, her hips were now even more prominent, curving her pelvis into a lush, generous spoon-shape; wide, round – and, as recognized particularly by the remaining “male” parts of her brain – alarmingly seductive. Pressing her legs together, her heart sank to realize that her inner thighs no longer met – a small gap glinted where skeletal force had pried apart her pubic arch permanently: a veritable landing strip for cock. Her whole body looked like it was built for sex – and, well... bearing children.
Just thinking about it...
Rae's innards did a backflip.
Sliding her right arm down the back of her neck, Rae flicked her haunches from side to side, brushing her other arm against the sweeping arc of her new, more generous hips. Her whole body traced a dramatic hourglass shape in the heart-studded mirror – forget “hot”: Rae's figure looked like it belonged on a fucking supermodel...
Her waist had, somewhat predictably, continued to shrink, but now it seemed unnaturally tiny – now, she could easily wrap both of her hands around it, with even a little finger-length left to spare. And her hands weren't exactly big hands, either.
It felt... weird.
And – of course, inevitably – her breasts had grown as well.
Bursting out from her chest wall, they looked like two ripe mangoes straining up against her tight little black shirt; prim & perky. To her great dismay, Rae realized that the fleecy shirt (although small) definitely should have reached all the way down to meet the hem of her pants – but the sheer size of her boobs meant that the shirt instead bottomed out about an inch above navel, gleefully exposing her bare midriff.
Rae scratched absently at the snug, itchy material clinging to her bust.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
The squishy sensation of her breasts beneath her fingers felt... weird. She could feel the cotton fabric of her shirt tickling at her chest. Squeezing one breast experimentally, it felt...
…!
Rae squeaked at the sensation.
New networks of nerve-endings flared, sending powerful signals of pleasure to her basal female brain. Yes – her big new boobs were made to be fondled... a primal directive of her new subconscious self awakened...
Automatically, her hand started massaging her own breast, rolling the fatty bulge with one flat palm against her shirt, feeling the squishy weight between her circling fingertips... she felt her nipples hardening up wonderfully against the fabric, plump, blood-swollen and erect, a delectable sensation... even more powerful nerve-endings launched a tremor down her spine in a direct line to her extremities... she groaned a long, husky sigh... feeling the warm, wet pleasure envelop her brain in a sweet, syrupy gauze as she fondled herself with both hands now, squashing and kneading her big boobs like big, warm, sexy bags of dough, tweaking the fat, firm, ripe nubs of her greedy nipples, wobbling ripe at the tip-tops of her plump tits just like big fat firm ripe blueberries, just screaming to be sucked on... maybe if she took off her shirt, she could reach one of her nipples with her mouth...?
...
No.
Rae froze.
She had lost control again.
This body was a perilous trap... and Rae needed to get out now.
The way things were going, it was almost as if her body knew she was going to try and reverse the spell today.
Rae turned to go...
Then made her way over to the armoire to pick out a bra.
Her still-hard nipples pressed up urgently against inner surface of her shirt, each areola as wide as a quarter, wider than they were yesterday; erect nubs cresting against the fabric like twin thumbtacks, pointy, making their presence extra-visibly known for all to see...
No way was she going to leave the house looking like that!
Grabbing up a cute little shiny dark-green bra from the top drawer of her dresser, Rae couldn't help but glance at the tag:
32F.
Holy shit.
She was really getting big...!
Catching sight of herself in yet another full-length mirror across the hall (her new boudoir was positively saturated with mirrors), Rae's figure almost looked like it was segmented into two halves, barely held together by her microscopic waist. The contrast was staggering. It was literally, like, a 2:1:2 bust-waist-hips ratio...
She just couldn't get over it!
Dropping the bra, transfixed once more by the lure of her own image, Rae's sultry legs sauntered casually over to an oak-rimmed Cheval floor mirror, marvelling at the cool, natural swagger of her own haunches, the hypnotic spirals of lavender tail swaying proudly behind her... the pert, taut, tasty braless bounce of her breasts... every curve, every buxom bulge and supple half-moon contour, every arc in perfect symphony, every inch of her physique perfectly engineered for maximum sexual pleasure... what breathtaking fluidity of motion...! A living wet dream... what joy on the face of any man who might finally bed her... those hips... how unearthly, how fecund, how fertile, how full, how ready, how ripened, how Rare... Ray... Raechel's fingers peeled off her tight little shirt up over her head, setting her big lovely F-cup boobs free, wiggling against her chest... smooth, pearlwhite skin glittering in the hot morning sun like icy fresh snow; plump purple nipples, hard as diamonds... her mane, and her tail... her whole body... so lavish, so luxuriant, so beautiful, so valuable, so unique.. . in a narcissistic swoon, her fawning brain drove her hand down into her pants... elegant, exclusive, expensive, opulent, one-of-a-kind, ridiculously rare... men would pay millions just to touch her... just to see her... her slender fingertips teased the outer folds of her womanhood... this phenomenal, luxurious, sensuous body... such a unqiue, precious, one-of-a-kind gift to the world... such a... Rarity...
