Posted on 2024-11-20 07:03:49
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Artist Story:
By pure happenstance, Rarity and Fluttershy are together when their cursed elements seek them out. Perhaps it has an effect on the shape the corruption takes. It's difficult to tell.

At first, Rarity is merely puzzled by the strange sight. It's probably some strange experiment of Twilights. Nothing to worry about, surely. Fluttershy, on the other hand, is much more apprehensive.

The pegusus squeaks as the necklace clamps itself around her neck, panic threatening to set in, as it has many times before. But it... doesn't. She feels... strange.

She shakes her head, and tries to remove the piece of jewelry. It won't come off, clasp having seemingly welded itself shut behind her neck. Frustrated, Fluttineshy rattles the stupid thing, but it won't budge. Her sharpening teeth bare themselves, and she wonders who's fault this is. She'll give them a piece of her mind!
...That, doesn't seem like her. But, it sounds... nice? No, that's not the right word. To soft, to weak. She doesn't want to be weak. She wants to be strong. She wants to be STRONG!
Images flash in Sanguine-shy's mind as she angrily grasps at her swelling chest. Images all the ponies who've laughed at her, who've spoken over her, or assumed she was unimportant. She wants to show them who's boss.
She understands now. The necklace is offering her a way to be strong. The curse tied to it needs a strong, dominant pony to help it spread to all of Equestria, weather it's citizens come willingly or not.

Sanguine Slut can be that pony.

She feels thirsty.


Rarity has a very, very different experience than her now vampiric friend does. The moment the cursed object clamps, vice-like, around her neck, a deeply buried part of her knows it's already too late. Outwardly, she attempts to struggle, but some magical force grips her entire body and holds her completely immobile. She is held there for a few moments, stiff and shaking, as the magic begins to poke and prod at her body. She somehow knows that it has begun changing her, and that there is nothing she can do to stop it.
Somehow, that... doesn't seems so bad.

The force starts moving her body around, like a puppet on strings. First lifting her up off the ground, and then moving her limbs as is pleases, using her own hooves to massage her body into a shape of it's choosing. And Rarity... stops fighting. She can't explain why, even to herself. And as she does, the magical vise-grip loosens, until it isn't holding her at all.
For a moment, Rarity hangs in the air, and she knows that she could break out of it's hold now. It wouldn't stop her. All she has to do is try.

She does not.
In fact, she goes back to massaging her own oddly sensitive chest. That seems to be what it wants her to do.
She suddenly feels the curse poke at her mind, curling around it almost politely, like it's asking for an invitation. Without hesitation, she lets it in. It seeps into her head and starts riffling through her memories, her emotions, her everything, until it finds her willpower.
Rarity hesitates, as the curse hovers over the part of herself that could escape it. Right now, she could still stop it. She knows that if she reaches up and unclasps the necklace, it will release her. But if she gives it her permission, the curse will take everything she has.
After a moment, she releases her hold, and sits back while her willpower liquifies into bubbly pink magic, and starts trickling down out of her head to pool in her growing chest. Around the element, the first threads of a harness form.
The trickle becomes a river, and it starts pulling other things down with it. Intelligence, independent thought, memory, everything. It all turns into magic that pads out new curves under her fur.
The curse gives her one last chance. It shows her what will happen if she gives in to it. She will loose the ability to do or think anything for herself, bound to obey orders from anyone who gives her one. She will hardly have a mind left at all. The curse itself will move her body like a puppet, fulfilling her master's needs. She will be little more than a toy, forever.

The harness now squeezing at her body spins out one last tendril of magic, and a ball gag forms in front of her muzzle. If she allows it to gag her, she will succumb permanently.

She opens her mouth.

The gag straps itself around her head. The magic that was once her thoughts and will power solidifies into nothing more than fat on her flanks and padding in her dangling breasts. Her sense of self flickers out like a candle flame. Rarity is no more.

Rari-toy sits and waits for its new masters to come and claim it.