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(This is part of an ongoing TF / TG / BE sequence + story)  
Full sequence here: https://www.deviantart.com/horselover-fat-01/gallery/81205791/the-reluctant-rarity  
This story is also on FIMFiction: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/509177/the-reluctant-rarity
 
Previous chapter: https://www.deviantart.com/horselover-fat-01/art/THE-RELUCTANT-RARITY-Day-3-DD-cup-901043020
 
THE RELUCTANT RARITY  
Day 5
 
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 elegant 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 boy. trapped in the body of a 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…
 
Next chapter: COMING SOON