(text from the original post):
(This is part of an ongoing TF / TG / BE sequence + story)
THE RELUCTANT RARITY
Day 3
“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 at all – 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 your tail 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 shaking.
…
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…”
