In Which Braeburn is Babied
Another hot day in the orchards of Aaaaaaaapleoosa!
Braeburn could feel every bit of the heat as he wiped his brow, but the smile of a hard day’s work did not fall away. The shade of his settlement’s trees, along with his trusty hat, were all the cooling he needed to keep bucking trees all day long. An ice cold glass of cider did sound heavenly right about now, though.
Another basket filled with gleaming apples, ripe and juicy and a little taunting. Braeburn's stomach grumbled for a bite while his parched lips craved the juices within the fruits of his labor. His hooves were strong enough to knock every tree’s apples within a five acre radius were begging for him to stop, having reached the peak and edging towards a sixth.
How could Braeburn even dream of resting when there was work that needed to be done? He slapped the tired right out of himself, his mind feeling as sharp as the sting in his cheeks afterwards. Being exhausted could wait, the wild west of Equestria wasn’t going to let up on being rough and neither was he!
Braeburn took off his hat and fanned himself before grabbing the latest basket of apples and grabbed the handle with his teeth, tugging it to his cart to pour them in with the rest of the fruit he’d collected. He couldn’t help but gaze proudly at his harvest, a veritable hill of shining red, but only for a second. Latching himself up to the cart, Breaburn began to plan out what other trees would be ready for bucking. His thoughts came to a stop when he realized his cart wasn’t going.
“What the...?” he began, looking back and expecting to see a rock or some such in the way of a wheel. The cart was clear of any blockade, but he did get another look at just how many apples he had collected. That being ‘way too many for a single cart or pony’.
Breaburn grunted and slapped himself. “Oh, dagnabit, how many times has Momma said not to bite more apple than ya can fit in yer mouth?” The lesson was hard learned for him, it seemed, because now he couldn’t move his cart an inch. Maybe after a full night’s rest and a hearty meal he could bring himself to haul such a heavy load, but after a whole day working himself down to the bone? It’d be better to try and make friends with a rattlesnake.
Pull and tug with all his might, Breaburn wasn’t getting his day’s work anywhere on his own. That would mean he would have to take some of the apples out, leave them there, and come back just to get a basketfull. He tried to pull again. Err, maybe two baskets.
“You know, I’ve heard it’s a good idea to know one’s limits.”
Braeburn's ears flopped about as he looked all around to find who had said that. “Little Strongheart, is that you? Cover me in caramel, it ain’t time fer the stampede already, is it?”
A snicker echoed around him before the idea to look up popped into his head. The buffalo he knew the best was resting in a branch, a half-eaten apple in her hoof. “Oh, do you have our schedule memorized? Maybe you’re waiting for someone special to pass you by.”
Braeburn blushed and cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, do ya mind gettin’ out of Ashley’s branches? She’s still a tender little thing, after all.”
The apple in Little Strongheart’s hooves was eaten to the core before she jumped down, landing with grace Braeburn still couldn’t believe came from a creature that would become so bulky. “I still can’t understand why you ponies name your trees, let alone how you can keep track of them all.”
“Hey, you buffalo name the stars, right?” Braeburn countered with a smirk.
Little strongheart jabbed at his ribs. “Ponies do too!”
“And we name our trees.” Braeburn stuck out his tongue and chuckled. “Don’t judge all of us ponies just ‘cause some of us are a little quirky. There are plenty of my own kind that would call me crazy for rememberin’ each and every single one if these plants’ names.”
“I guess that means you’re special.” Little Strongheart giggled as his face flushed again. She dug a little hole and buried the remains of her apple. “So, how are you doing, Braeburn? Has the settlement been doing alright?”
“You bet!” Braeburn said. “Everythin’ is just peachy. How’s things with the tribe?”
“Running, making camp, running, and making camp again,” Little Strongheart replied. “In other words, everything is going great with us too. Though we have been getting more modernized in how we do things.”
“Whoa, the Chief is changing his ways?” Braeburn said, scratching the spot under his hat. “He’s so stubborn, though. I kinda figured you buffalo folk would always be livin’ on the prarie.”
“And we are. I can’t imagine giving up a life of running through across the plains. The dirt beneath our hooves, marvelling the stars, living off of the land as we make our way across? That’s not going to stop any time soon.”
Braeburn felt his heart sink into his stomach like a nectarine pit. He knew this would forever be the case, Little Strongheart couldn’t change her way of life anymore than he could give up on Appleoosa. Hearing it again didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow. “I figured that was the case. It’s still a little funny to hear ya’ll are changin’ even a bit.”
Little Strongheart shrugged. “Some ways are little, some are taking some getting used to. We’ve gotten in the habit of being a sort of delivery service as we go along. Picking up goods to deliver from town to town, and everybuffalo seems to enjoy shampoo, for obvious reasons. The one thing Chief Thunderhooves is really having a hard time with is canned goods.”
“Does he thinks it’s some kinda voodoo magic?” Braeburn said with a snicker.
“No, he can’t figure out how to work a can opener.” They both shared a laugh at the amusing idea of the chief wrestling with a can while applying the can opener in every way except how it was intended.
As Braeburn let the image of Thunderhooves using the can opener as a club fade, he took notice of how much Strongheart had grown. “Hey, you gotten bigger? I could’a sworn ya didn’t meet me eye-to-eye last year.”
With more than a small amount of pride, Little Strongheart puffed her chest out. “Ah, so you’ve noticed? That’s right, I’m not going to be ‘Little’ Strongheart much longer. After we have the ceremony where I’m given one last night to enjoy my youth, I’ll be made the tribe’s mother.”
Braeburn blinked, his jaw nearly unhinging from the joints in his head. “Mother? Y-You’re gonna be a m-mother?”
Little Strongheart smirked as Braeburn stuttered. “Hmm, well, maybe ‘mother’ isn’t the best word for it. Think like a nanny, except a nanny-plus.”
Once again his cheeks gave their best impression of an apple in season, which he tried to hide by pulling his hat down. “Err, right. I knew that.”
“Of course you did,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “I’m still not ready to be looking for a life partner yet, so I’ll just be helping to nurture the little ones, learning how to be a mother. I’m really excited for it!”
“Nothin’ quite like carin’ for a foal, huh?” Braeburn agreed, trying to pull the cart again in hopes of hiding his blush in hard work. “Seein’ them—hnng—smile an’—hmph—laugh, really makes ya—mmph—feel alive, huh?”
“You know what it’s like caring for children?” Little Strongheart’s eyes sparkled as she came so close to him their noses almost pressed together.
“O-Oh, sure,” Breaburn said, his own eyes darting about. “When we traveled all the way out here, the young’uns needed lots of care. I was one of the ponies in who helped out the most since I’m great with kids.”
“Yes, perfect!” she cried, bouncing a bit in place. The saddle bags Little Strongheart was wearing caught Braeburn's eye as she hopped about, an oddity to him as he had never seen her carrying packs before. “This works out great! You really are perfect for this!”
“‘This’? Whoa, slow down a bit there, little missy, what exactly are you talking about?”
It was Little Strongheart’s turn to blush as she came to a halt. “Oh, sorry, got carried away there. Listen, Braeburn, I was hoping I could ask you for a huge favor. I honestly don’t think I’m good enough to be the tribe’s mother, and I could use someone to help me practice. Do you think, if it’s not too much trouble, we could go through the motions and you’d give me some pointers until the tribe has to move on?”
Braeburn smiled. “Shoot, with the way you’re talking, you’re makin’ it sound like we’re gonna go swimming through molasses. I’ll be happy to help ya once I get this last cartful back to the house.”
“Really?” Little Strongheart said right before wrapping her legs around his neck and squeezing. “Thank you so much! I don’t know how I can ever thank you!”
Braeburn chuckled and returned the hug, nuzzling her forehead. “Tain’t nothin’ to get your mane in knots about. Or, uh, whatever it is buffalo have.”
Little Strongheart giggled and pulled away. “Can we get started now? The more practice the better.”
“Sure, I just gotta—hnng—get this cart back home.” Braeburn wiped his brow as he resumed his futile struggles against the weight of his work. He surrendered after a minute of trying and nearly fell to his knees. “Alright, how about we make a deal? Help me get the cart home and I’ll help you out any way I can.”
“Deal,” Strongheart agreed, taking his hoof and making a fine attempt at imitating the way cousin Applejack shook hooves. Leaving Braeburn to work the brand new kink in his shoulder, she got behind the cart and whistled at the pile of fruit sitting inside. “I know you’re a strong pony, Braeburn, but this really does seem like way too much.”
“I like to go the extra acre,” Braeburn replied. “Besides, this should be a slice of pie with the two of us. One... two... three!”
The load was indeed much easier to manage with Braeburn pulling and Strongheart pushing. It was still slow going without all the proper reigns and whatnot, but it saved Braeburn from making a second trip, not to mention a sore back.
A half hour later, the apples were brought back to Appleloosa and left for sorting. A twinge of pride filled Braeburn as he watched a team of four ponies struggling to move the overladen cart that had required just himself and Strongheart.
“Finally,” Braeburn sighed, his whole body deflating with the breath. “I’m so tired, I feel like I could sleep through Grandpa Jonathan’s snoring.”
“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” Little Strongheart said with a wink. “We made a deal.”
“Of course, and an Apple always keeps his promise.” Feeling brave, Braeburn entwined his foreleg with hers and decided it was the right thing to do, since she didn’t pull away. “Come on, my house is right over there, a little ways away from the town proper. I’ll fix us some cider and we can make small, or should I say baby, talk.”
“Oh, you clever word crafter.” Little Strongheart giggled. “But can we use your barn instead? There’s more space for what we need.”
Braeburn nodded, leading her along. “Sure thing. Guess a house might be a tad cramped for a prairie buffalo, huh?”
“Ugh, you have no idea,” Strongheart replied. “But you gotta do what you gotta do. I handle a lot of the buffalo-pony relations since I’m the only one that can fit through doors. And since I’m a girl, it’s probably going to stay that way for a while.”
Braeburn hummed in thought. “No foolin’? Guess I don’t have to worry about ya ever beating me in a hoof wrestle.”
“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure I can beat you in a rodeo. I’ve been practicing with that lasso you gave me last year.”
“You’ll have to show me later so I can prove just how wrong you are.” Braeburn gave a playful nudge to her side as they came up to the barn doors. The doors opened with a creak, revealing the fairly empty interior. “Consarned hinges, coulda sworn I just greased those things.”
“Hey, now, no need to worry anymore right now.” Little Strongheart took the initiative and tugged him inside, then began to inspect the barn. “You just need to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you kindly, don’t mind if I take a load off.” Braeburn walked over to a pile of hay and jumped back into it, rolling about some to get comfortable. “Ahhh, that’s the spot. Guess I shouldn’t get too settled until we’re done. So, what do you...”
Braeburn blinked as Strongheart pulled a bottle out of her bag and set it on the hay bale. Using it as a table of sorts, she pulled out a few more objects like a pacifier, a rattle, and cleaning cloths.
“Uh, what exactly are you planning to do with that stuff?”
Strongheart smiled and said, “Just like I said, we’re modernizing our ways. Stuff like this is a lot nicer than what we’ve been using for the past who-knows-how-long. Taking care of newborns is going to be so much easier now.”
“And you need me to explain how this stuff works?” Braeburn tilted his head. The items seemed self-explanatory, he thought. Then again, she didn’t grow up the way he did. Maybe this was completely foreign to her.
“That would be helpful, yes.” Little Strongheart pulled one more item out of her saddlebags; a large disposable diaper with hollow apple shapes dotting over the otherwise snowy white surface. It was certainly not the right size for a foal. In fact, it looked like it would probably fit on Braeburn.
“Uh, wh-what?” Braeburn stuttered.
Strongheart set the diaper down with the rest of the foalish items and shook her saddlebags off. “I mostly need to know if I’m applying them right. This is a completely different way of raising our young I’m trying, so there’s a lot of things I could mess up.”
Braeburn’s jaw hung loosely as he blinked, trying to comprehend what we was seeing. He set his mouth back in place and asked, “And what are you planning to do with this stuff?”
“Use it on a foal, of course!” Little Strongheart unfolded the diaper with a little difficulty. “Okay, so that end has the tailhole...”
The landing zone of the noisy plastic garment was in plain view for Braeburn, which was covered in apples as well. “Y-You do know that ain’t gonna fit on any foal... right?”
Little Strongheart nodded at the diaper, having figured out which end was which, and picked it up in her leg. “Not a real one, duh. But you’re not a real foal.”
No longer imagining his now-cemented fears, Braeburn gulped. “You’re going to put that on me? You want me to play foal?”
Strongheart, who had been coming towards him, came to a stop. Her expression fell into an expression that tugged at Braeburn’s insides. “But... isn’t that what I told you? I need to go through the motions to know I can do this.”
“Now hold on, I didn’t know you meant this!” Braeburn argued. “This is just... I mean, this is kinda...”
“But we made a deal!” Strongheart nearly whined. “You said you’d help and I helped you move your cart! Please, Braeburn, this would mean so much to me if you could let me do this.”
Braeburn stuttered some more, trying to reason what she had just said. He had made a deal, hadn’t he? And his momma has always taught him that he shouldn’t go back on his word, or else his word wouldn’t mean anything at all. Besides that, his chest welled with self-loathing as he saw Little Strongheart so sad. How could he live with himself knowing he’d caused that face?
With a sigh of resignation, Braeburn let his head fall back and spread his legs. “Okay, okay, I’ll be your foal. Just stop being all mopey, I can’t stand to see a pretty face all sad like that.”
Little Strongheart let out a squeal and bounded up to him. “Thank you again, Braeburn, this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me!” She paused in her excitement and blinked. “You think I’m pretty?”
Braeburn smiled, the furious blush coming back with a vengeance. “Hey, now, don’t sell yourself short, Strongheart. You’re not bad looking at all.”
“Oh wow, thanks.” Little Strongheart let out a bashful giggle and brushed her hair with a hoof. “Alright, so! Uh, tail first.”
The diaper was slipped under Braeburn’s haunches and his tail pulled through the hole in the back, to which the stallion hummed in thought. Even though he was sure he hadn’t worn anything like a diaper since he was a foal, and his momma had used cloth, the sensation was curiously familiar. Perhaps two or three years of being in diapers wasn’t something one completely forgot, even if just in touch alone.
He broke out of his ponderings about memory when he felt the leggings begin to hug him as Strongheart pulled the front of the diaper up and over. “Hold on, you’re movin’ too fast. Ya missed a pretty important few steps.”
“I did?” Strongheart pulled the diaper back open and tapped her chin. “Hold on, don’t tell me, I know I can remember this.”
Braeburn smiled. “Don’t stress over it, this is practice. I sure hope you brought all the supplies, ‘cause I’m not letting you put me in that if you forgot them.”
“Supplies? Oh, right!” Strongheart trotted back to her saddlebags and poked her snout inside. “Can’t believe I forgot this part, the store owner told me how important it was.” A tube and a bottle of some sort emerged from the bag, which she picked up and carried over. “Rash cream and foal powder, right?”
“There you go.” Braeburn’s face flushed again, to which he tipped his hat to try and conceal his embarrassment. “Now, uh... you’ve got to apply them.”
Little Strongheart had none of Braeburn’s reservations as she came back over. “Which one first, the cream or the powder?”
“Cream first,” Braeburn replied, somewhat muffled. “That’s to keep rashes from poppin’ up, and the powder... well, heck if I know, but you put it on the foal.”
“Cream first, then powder. Got it!”
The telltale squirt of something being squeezed out of a tube reached Braeburn’s ears and he braced himself. Strongheart reached her hoof down and began to gently rub the stallion’s hindquarters with the cream. His legs twitched, such a sensitive part of his body unused to the feeling of someone else’s touch, let alone from someone he considered attractive. At least she couldn’t see just how red his face really was, though he found it hard not to, ahem, get excited.
“Do foals normally squirm this much?” Strongheart asked as she rubbed the last bit onto him, picking up the foal powder and puffing the stuff onto his loins.
“S-Some do,” Braeburn stuttered, still hiding under his hat. “Just kinda d-depends, really. I, uh, figured we’d try this, you know, just a little bit of challenge for ya.”
“Ooohh, I see! Good thinking, Braeby, don’t want me thinking it’s always going to be sunshine and fresh water.”
Braeburn snorted while he felt her hoof spread the powder out. “Did you just call me ‘Braeby’?”
The hat covering his face was batted back to the top of his head, Little Strongheart flicking his nose in the process. “Tell me it doesn’t fit. Go on, I dare you.”
“Guess I can’t argue with ya there.” Braeburn pointed to the powder. “I’d suggest using more. Well, I mean, I guess if I was a real foal this’d be enough, but for a big one like me?”
Little Strongheart let out a laugh of her own as she complied with his instructions. “Oh, so you are a foal, huh? No takebacks, you already admitted to it.”
“Hush, you!” Braeburn snickered. “You know what the hay I meant!”
“Come on, Braeby, I’m just playing with you. Is this enough, or do you still need more?”
“This should be good. I don’t know how long you expect me to be in this getup, but better safe than sorry.” Braeburn leaned his head back into his makeshift seat and sighed. “Right, now you’re gonna tape it onto me. We had to use cloth on our way out here, so I don’t know much about putting this kind on. Huh.” He scratched his temple. “Why ain’t you using cloth on me? Doesn’t make much sense to be usin’ plastic iffen you’re always on the move.”
Strongheart grinned and pulled the front of the diaper over Braeburn, the crinkles and rustles sounding throughout the barn. Braeburn twitched more, the familiar-yet-foreign feeling of plush material hugging him so low doing a number on his sense of touch. The leak guards were stretched snug over his inner thigh, creating a seal in which he briefly wondered if there was an escape from.
“Don’t tell anyone I told you, but...” Little Strongheart looked left and right, as if one of her hulking buffalo brethren could could have snuck up on them right then and there. She turned back to him, pulling the sides of the diaper up to hug Braeburn’s hips. “I’m being given specific orders to use these. It’s gonna be kinda tough, yeah, but we’ll manage.”
Braeburn felt the first tape with a hoof, checking if the tightness was set comfortably. “But why?”
“Because... some of the Buffalo are thinking of leaving the tribe.” Little Strongheart smiled as she pulled the other tape up.
“You’re serious?” Braeburn pushed himself up so their noses were just barely touching. “But that... you’re not serious.”
“That’s just how it goes, sometimes,” Little Strongheart said as she put a hoof on his chest and pushed him back down. “Can’t hold onto the past forever, right? We’ll respect the old ways. Heck, I heard the Chief might make it some kind of buffalo tourist thing to let them get back to their roots. But sometimes you just gotta move on.”
It took a moment for the implications of this new knowledge to sink into Braeburn’s head. This wasn’t exactly a concept he was unfamiliar with. There was no way settling Appleoosa could have been done a thousand years ago. It might have been impossible a hundred years ago, even. The Apple Family had always been stubborn with change, though. Why fix what wasn’t broken?
Hearing that a buffalo tribe who-knew-how many generations old was evolving with the times made the stubbornness in him quiver. Along with that, though, his heart soared at even the tiniest hope that Strongheart would be one of those buffalo to settle down. Maybe, just maybe, if the tribe dwindled enough, he could convince her to stay with him. It was a selfish thought, but one he gladly entertained.
“Aww, is the Braeby happy to be in his diapees?” Little Strongheart made over exaggerated smooches in Braeburn’s direction.
“Wh-what?” Braeburn blinked and realized he was smiling like a gold miner that had found his mother load. “Err, pay me no mind. Just playing the part.” Squirming even more, he was at least a bit relieved to have an excuse to use the excess energy his embarrassment was giving him.
“You play the part really well.” Strongheart rubbed the front of his diaper, then patted it, making a puff of foal powder blow out the top. “Whoops, guess I didn’t make the tapes tight enough.”
“Naw, this feels right,” Braeburn said, hoping it wasn’t too obvious he was glad for a distraction. Rolling onto his hooves, the cowpony stretched and wriggled, trying to get used the the feeling of the diaper’s weight and the pressure it added between his legs. The extra padding forced his legs apart, making him take a stance like a duck would. And just like a duck, Braeburn had to waddle when he walked. “Yeah, I’d say this is on perfect. Snug, but not too snug.”
Little Strongheart grinned. “Thank goodness. It’d be pretty bad if I messed up putting a diaper on a foal.”
“Ahh, don’t worry about it,” Braeburn said. Walking proved to be awkward as he moved around the interior of the barn. “You’re a natural, I can tell. Whoa nelly, this sure feels mighty strange, though.”
“It looks strange, too.” Strongheart snickered at Braeburn’s uneasy stride. “You look like a duck. Your bottom is certainly poofy enough for the job, come on, ducky, quack for momma!”
Braeburn stuck his tongue out at her but kept walking, shaking his diaper at her. “You try walking in this thing and tell me it’s easy. And am I a duck or a foal? Pick one and have me stick to it, this is already embarrassing enough.”
“How about a baby duck?” Little Strongheart suggested. “Just one quack, pretty please? I’ll pout again if I have to.”
Bringing a hoof to his forehead, Braeburn leaned to the side and said, “No, not the pout! I can’t stand to see a pretty little lady blue!”
“Then quack, Breaby! I’m starting to stick out my lower lip!” Indeed, Strongheart was already preparing a deadly quivering lip.
“Alright. alright already.” Breaburn cleared his throat and yelled from the back of his throat a lame and pathetic excuse of a duck’s call. “Quack! Where’s some bread crumbs? Got any bread crumbs? Quack!”
Little Strongheart broke out in a fit of giggles, stomping a hoof on the ground. “Okay, you quacked, you can stop with that silly voice!”
“What silly voice? Quack!” Braeburn stood up on his hind legs, bending his forelegs to look like mock wings. He continued his exaggerated duck-waddle, diaper crinkling all the while. “You said I’m a baby duck, so I’m a baby duck. Quack!”
“S-Stop it!” she cried, falling into the hay pile. “I-I can’t breath!”
“Quack! I need some fish, where’s momma duck? Momma, quack!” Braeburn waddled himself up to the giggling buffalo and quacked again. “Are you breadcrumbs? I’m just a baby, I can’t tell, quack!”
Little Strongheart squealed as Breaburn bent over to peck at her stomach, blowing little raspberries each time. “G-G-Get away! I-I’ll tickle b-back, I swear!”
“Quack! You can’t be crumbs, you squeal like a piggie! Maybe I’d better taste again to find out. Quack!”
The barrage continued for five seconds before Little Strongheart grabbed Braeburn and rolled on top of him. “Okay, Braeby, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Tickle attack!”
“Nooo!” Braeburn cried as two tiny hooves tickled his sides. He rolled and kicked, instinct trying to get him away but not helping in the least.
“Are you sure you’re not a foal?” Little strongheart teased. “You laugh just like one. Come on, who’s my Braeby? Say you’re my Braeby!”
“N-N-Never!” He writhed and tried to crawl away, but it did him no good. All his strength was in his hind legs, and he couldn’t even get a grip on anything besides loose hay with his front hooves.
Little Strongheart was powerful all over, though, and wasn’t letting Braeburn get away without her prize. “Who’s the little piggie now? You little squealer, you, and if you start oinking I’ll do that thing with your tail!”
“Okay, okay, I’m your Braeby, I’m your Braeby!” Braeburn kicked and laughed for a while after Little Strongheart pulled away, the last few giggles and chortles working out of his system until he was left panting with a big a smile as he ever had. He let out another giggle as she poked his belly.
“And don’t you forget it.” She giggled along with him. “If all foals are going to be as silly as you, I might have a problem. How am I going to keep up with all the laughing?”
Braeburn let out a breath and rolled onto his side, smirking her way. “Don’t fret, they don’t become really goofy until they get to be my age. They also don’t get this cute.”
Little Strongheart rolled her eyes as he batted his eyelids at her. “I should only be so lucky. If I meet another one as adorable as my Braeby, I might have to leave the tribe right then and there.”
More flights of fancy passed through Braeburn’s thoughts at her words. “Hmm, why’s that? Would your heart explode from seeing another face as cute as mine?”
“Nope.” She leaned over him again, this time bringing her lips to his nose. “I’d have to run all the way here to make sure that calf was cuter, and when you were the more adorable, I’d scoop you up and never let go.”
“Dang it, my cheeks are gonna turn red and stay that way if you keep sweet talkin’ me like this.” Braeburn couldn’t help but bashfully smile. “I’m, uh, kinda gettin’ some mixed signals from you, though. Can we talk later?”
“Of course, Braeby,” Strongheart said, patting his diaper again. “But later. I still have lots of stuff I need to practice. Although your diaper is still clean from the looks of the prints. Guess diaper changing will have to wait. How about we practice bottle feeding next?”
“Sure, we can...” Braeburn blinked, his stomach dropping into the pits of Tartarus. “Wait a second, back up a few moves in your mosey. Did you just say ‘changing’?”
“Well, yeah.” Strongheart hopped away from Braeburn and trotted over to her supplies, picking the pacifier up. “Wouldn’t be a complete calf-training experience if I didn’t change a wet diaper.”
Braeburn’s throat became dry as the remains of a vulture’s prey. “Hubba-wha?”
“But Breaby...” Strongheart frowned.
No, not the pout... anything but the pout!
Little Strongheart lips began to quiver. “You promised you’d help me. And—”
“And an Apple never breaks his promise...” Braeburn gulped. “B-But you don’t need me to wet myself, do ya? We can just pretend, or maybe pour cider in for the effect.”
The buffalo continued to pout. “But Braeby, it’s just not the same. It’s gotta be real if I’m going to do a good job. Don’t you want me to be a good mother?”
Braeburn grimaced and looked away, unable to bear seeing her so sad. “Shoot, alright, alright, I’ll... I’ll wet myself.”
Strongheart went right back to being chipper, bounding up to Braeburn and plopping the bulb of the dummy into his mouth. “Thanks again, Braeburn, you really are the best guy I know. Now you sit like a good Braeby while Momma gets you some milk. I’m sure once you’ve had your ba-ba, you’ll be good and ready.”
A suckling sound filled the air as Braeburn once again had the sense of déjà vu soak through his brain. The dummy tickled at the sensation of something being second nature, the motion of chewing and the feeling of hard plastic pressing on his lips was a lot more soothing than he would have guessed. That, along with a sweet taste, made it rather difficult to complain about the sudden way it was placed in his mouth. “Mmm... ish dat cactus juice?”
“You like? It was another idea I had, to keep the calves from spitting them out. What do you think?” She tapped the pacifier. “I’m thinking of other flavors, since I’m sure they’ll have different tastes, but cactus was my first idea.”
Braeburn furrowed his brow. “Hmm thuckle Ah fink ish a bit too tangy. Might wanna dull it shome.”
With a nod and thoughtful hum, Little Strongheart grabbed the bottle on her way to the barn door. “Probably didn’t water it down enough. Thanks, though, this is exactly why it’s nice to have a foal who can tell me what’s wrong. Now you sit tight, Braeby, and I’ll get some warm milk. Oh, uh, mind if I grab some from your house?”
“Door’sh unlocked,” Braeburn called after her, still fascinated with the juicy sensation in his mouth.
Little Strongheart nodded again and bounded out the door, leaving Braeburn, padded up and sucking on a pacifier, to ponder what exactly was happening.
Sitting up, the barn filled with the rustles from both the hay he rested on and the plastic of his diaper. Just what exactly was he doing? Trying to impress a mare... err, cow? That was the actual term for female buffalo, but it didn’t seem right to him for such a graceful being to be called a cow. She was too majestic, too spry, too... well, too beautiful.
Braeburn closed his eyes and leaned forward, a loopy smile behind the soother as he sucked away at the taste as sharp as the plant it came from. Little Strongheart was a dream come true to a stallion like him. A girl that respected the land was what a hard working farmer would want, someone who knew the dirt beneath their hooves. And that was just the practical aspects. Loving and pretty to boot, how could a lovestruck fool like Braeburn not fall for her?
That made it all the harder to know it wasn’t to be. Strongheart’s way, the way that made his heart go aflutter, was the path of her tribe. It was a path with hoof prints hundreds of years old and thousands of miles long, just as the Apple Family’s roots were buried deep in the soil and reached far down. Both of them knew the importance of family, neither able to give up on their lineage.
One of them belonged on the open plains, running until she could run no more. The other needed to settle in one place and tend the earth, making more places for his kin to settle. Such different ways of life couldn’t mesh.
That begged a question all over again. Just what exactly was he doing?
Braeburn stood up and looked himself over, whimpering. A diaper? A pacifier? He looked like a foal, and that was not how a stallion was supposed to look. The soft cushion hugging his backside was an insult to the roughness he possessed, the soother to the strength he had. Not to mention needing to wet himself was just... well, you just didn’t do that! Why go along with this favor if all he got was to see Strongheart smile?
Then again, it was a really nice smile...
Shaking his head, Braeburn stomped his hoof. No, this wouldn’t do. He needed to get out of there and hide before she came back. Such demeaning treatment wasn’t fair to him, so he wouldn’t put up with it. But how was he going to get out of the barn dressed like this? He tapped his chin in thought. Even from so far away, the townsfolk would see something odd and ask him about it, to which there was no easy explanation. The only way out, then, was the window back of the barn.
He grinned and waddled to the ladder, setting it so he could climb up. The action was harder than first assumed, the diaper he was wearing forcing him to waddle up such a narrow set of steps. The pressure between his legs turned out to be more than he was expecting and he wound up on the barn door with a pillow-like plop.
“Fank goodness Shtrongheart washn’t here to see dat,” Braeburn bemoaned, patting his diaper. “Well, ya cushioned my fall. Guess ya ain’t all that bad.” A snicker worked its way out of his throat. “Talkin’ to a diaper, Braeburn, ya really have gone off great granny’s rocker.”
Plush feelings surrounded his loins and, for a moment, Braeburn simply sunk into the diaper. The suckling resumed, the rubber nipple a pleasure to chew on. Being a foal felt like this, huh? This wasn’t so bad, Braeburn supposed. Maybe sticking around wouldn’t be so bad...
“No, no, get a hold of yourself!” he berated. Stallions were not foals, and he wasn’t going to act like one in the slightest bit. Placing his hooves back on the rungs, Braeburn resumed his climb, this time being more careful with how he moved his back legs. The thick wall of plush plastic tickled against his thighs, slowing him down. It wasn’t just the awkward waddle forced onto him, though.
Sighing and not even a quarter up the ladder, Braeburn rested his head on one of the ladder’s rungs. The diaper did feel good. In a way, it felt like he was betraying himself by admitting this fact, even if only in thought. But running out on Little Strongheart felt like an even bigger bout of treachery. It was dishonest to run away, and dishonest was not the Apple way. He made up his mind right then and there. He was going to stick around, and he was going to like it. Maybe, if he asked nicely, he could help her practice again next year.
Just as his mind became set, the barn door creaked open and hoofsteps reached his ears. “Okay, Braeby, Momma’s back with... what are you doing?”
Braeburn winced, caught as he was. Tail curving between his legs and head lowered, his voice became stuck somewhere in his lungs.
“Braeburn, are you trying to sneak out?” Little strongheart said, closing the door behind her.
“I, uh, umm, err...” He gulped and turned his head to face Strongheart. “M-Maybe?”
Little Strongheart gasped and set the bottle down, brow furrowing. “Braeby, I’m surprised at you! You should know better than to run away from Momma.”
“I know, I know, I’m sowwy!” Braeburn cried around the pacifier. “I was jusht... I mean...” Much to his surprise, though, he heard a delighted giggle instead of the expected disappointed chastising.
“How was my ‘stern mother’ voice?” Strongheart asked. “Hopefully I won’t have to use it too often, but I gotta be prepared.”
Braeburn blinked. “Shtern mother?” Realization hit him like Cousin Big Macintosh tripping and falling onto an unsuspecting pony. She thought he was still playing the part. “Right, exactly! I’m a naughty foal right now, so you’re gonna have to catch me!” He wiped his brow, letting out a ‘phew’ of relief.
“Okay, I totally have this under control.” Strongheart galloped next to her bag and stuck her nose inside to pull out a length of rope. “And I can show you my lasso tricks at the same time.”
“Beg yer pardon?” Braeburn managed to say before he felt a mess of rope loop around him in a sloppy fashion. Little Strongheart tugged and Braeburn fell off the ladder a short ways, once again falling onto his padded rump with a crinkly plop.
Pull after pull, Strongheart reeled her catch in until Braeburn was close enough to be patted on the head and kissed on the cheek. “There we are, no escaping from Momma now, is there?”
Braeburn snickered and tried to pull himself out of the net he’d been caught in. “I don’t fink so. I thought ya shaid yoo’d been pwacticing your twicks.”
“Okay, maybe I didn’t practice that much,” Strongheart replied, tickling his chin. “But on the bright side, I can still catch a wild stallion.”
“Oh, a wild shtallion, huh?” Braeburn carefully worked himself into a standing position, trying to kick off the entanglement. “Beddar be careful, ‘cause dis shtallion is feisty an’ might jusht escape ya when yer not lookin’.”
“Escape, huh?” Strongheart stuck out her tongue. “And where are you gonna go dressed like that?”
“Aww, come on, ya know Ah wouldn’t reawwy try to run from ya.” Leaning forward, Braeburn nuzzled their cheeks together.
Little Strongheart nuzzled back, pulling him into a hug. “I know that. If you were really gonna run, you would have ripped the diaper off and hopped out the back window by now.”
Braeburn’s heart came to a stop for a moment, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “If I was...”
“Uh, Braeby? Are you okay?”
“Could have taken...” Braeburn giggled as a wobbly smile crept up on his lips. “If I reawwy wanted to, I would’ve done dat, wouldn’t I?”
Tickling his chin again, she said, “You’re acting really funny all of a sudden. Are you okay?”
The stallion didn’t know what to say, so instead broke out in a fit of laughter as though he were being tickled over every part of his body. This didn’t work in Braeburn’s favor, as he was unable to pay attention to his bindings and wound up tripping into the latest compromising position of the day. His chin met the ground, but not the rest of him. The entanglement of rope kept his legs mostly useless, so he ended up, well, bottom up, his his well-padded rear up in the air like a beacon.
“Jeez, Braeburn, I think this acting thing is getting to you,” Strongheart teased, flicking said stallion’s nose. “Now you can’t even walk? If you actually turn into a foal on me, I might not let you change back.”
Braeburn’s cheeks burned with renewed shame, but the wobbly smile he wore told how he accepted it. Like she said... if he really was going to run, he would have taken his foalish attire off. Here, in a diaper and being coddled by his sweetheart, he would stay, and love every minute of it. That meant just one last thing.
With a small breath through his nose, Braeburn relaxed himself utterly, his binds slackening the smallest amount. The sound of giggles filled the barn, Braeburn’s blush deepening despite how red he was already, as a small hiss could be heard. Little Strongheart trotted around her ensnared foal and redoubled her snickers when she pushed his tail aside to see the diaper starting to take on a dark hue of yellow, the hollow apple shapes starting to fade away where it was wet.
With a tsk, Little Strongheart patted the now-moist part of the garment and said, “And speaking of changed, it looks like my little foal decided to go potty for Mommy.”
“Yeah, well... anything to help you out,” Braeburn mumbled, fidgeting around. The rope did not give way and instead seemed to hug tighter, if the growing crinkling coming around where a length wrapped around his diaper was anything to go by. “Speaking of help, mind getting me out of this? Can’t exactly make me fresh smelling with me hogtied like the prize pig at a rodeo.”
Strongheart seemed to contemplate his words as she looked at the rope-trap, then up at the ceiling rafters. “Is that a challenge I hear?”
“Huh?” Braeburn blinked as the sound of rummaging reached his ears. Attempting to turn his head around proved as fruitless as an apple tree in the winter, so he was unable to see what she was doing. “If you heard a challenge, you’re hearing things.”
“Hold on, I just got a great idea! I know those basket weaving lessons would pay off eventually.” More rustling later, followed by a few hoofsteps and a heavy thump Braeburn recognized as a good deal of rope hitting the ground, and Braeburn found himself being tipped over and rolled onto his back, looking up at Little Strongheart grinning down at him. “Ready for naptime?”
“Not reawwy.” Braeburn waved his hoof for emphasis, the rope hardly giving way. “Ain’t eshactly da comfiesht position to be in.”
“That’ll change soon enough,” she sang. Little Strongheart grabbed another rope and tossed it up and over the ceiling rafters. The process was repeated several more times, with breaks for her to weave them all together around Braeburn. The cowpony watched with fascination, hypnotized by her calculated movements. She really had been practicing to have such good aim.
The sloppy tangles turned into a proper net that wrapped around his body. The true genius of the improvised design was made clear as the buffalo pulled a lone rope hanging from the ceiling, Braeburn yelping as he was pulled into the air. The net tightened in just the right places around his limbs to hold him against the makeshift cradle he sunk into.When Strongheart tied her end around a support beam, Braeburn was left suspended a few feet above the ground, gently swinging around. Although it became faster when Strongheart gave a push to send him spinning.
“Are we cozy now?” she asked in the sweetest tone she could muster.
Braeburn struggled against his bindings, albeit weakly. Around each of his joints was a fastening of rope, holding him against the cradle and allowing minimal wriggling. With the net being held up, it took on an almost sack-like quality, with his hooves held over his head. Another length of rope wrapped around his midsection, which seemed trivial at this point, but added to the sense of being stuck. It wasn’t a feeling he found himself disagreeing with. There was no chance of him slipping out, on purpose or accident, more or less trapped.
“Mmm...” he hummed as he sunk into his new cradle, that suckles of his soother becoming as natural as a true foal’s. “Dis ain’t bad at all. Did ya just fink of dis?”
The cradle rocked to and fro as Little Strongheart pushed it like a swing, slipping the warm bottle of milk into Braeburn’s perfectly placed hooves for him to suckle on. In instinct, the juicy soother slipped out his mouth and the nipple slipped inside, his cheeks burning when he realized how easily he performed the actions.
“Thanks so much, Braeburn.” Strongheart kissed the top of his hat, patting his blushing cheek. “I learned a lot from all this.”
After a few more gulps, Braeburn pulled the nippled out and smiled up at her. “We ain’t done yet, are we? We’ve barely got started., And, uh...” He kicked his legs as much as his bindings would allow, yawning as he did so, his diaper rustling and squishing at the same time. “I still need a change. I’d rather not have naptime in a soiled diaper.”
Little Strongheart snickered as she rummaged through her bag for another diaper fit for Braeburn’s haunches. “So, is this going to be an all night thing?” she asked as she walked around to her play-foal’s backside and spread his legs apart. The weaving of the hammock-cradle held Braeburn’s legs in place, making untapping and removing the used diaper a breeze, much like the one braeburn felt on his moist loins.
“Ooohh, cold!”
“It’s about to get colder, ya big baby.” She wasn’t lying, the wipes she used to clean him up sending shivers through his body. It was done quickly, so his suffering did not last long and he was rewarded with the smooth, plush, warm feeling of a fresh diaper placed on much better than the first one had complete with the pleasant scents of cream and powder to sooth the senses further.
With an experimental wiggle, Braeburn sunk into his suspended cradle and hummed, practically cooing. The rocking continued with Strongheart giving him gentle pushes. “Did I put it on better that time?”
Braeburn nodded, not wanting to take out the bottle and end his drinking. Comfy didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling. If he wanted to, it would have been easy to break out of his confines. A forcely pull and he could escape, if he really wanted to. But he didn’t want to. This was pleasant. This was something he wouldn’t say no to doing again. In fact, he just might ask for it.
“No way... Braeby, are you seriously falling asleep?” The stallion’s eyelids drooping was the only response she received. “You actually are! Ha, I must be better at this than I thought!”
“Mmph...” Braeburn pulled the nipple out just long enough to say, “I ain’t gonna get any sleep with ya hollerin’ like the cows have come home,” before going back to his milk.
“Oh, sorry!” Strongheart whispered, returning to her rocking duties. “But really, am I doing this good? Am I actually lulling a grown stallion to sleep? I mean yeah, sure, you’ve been working all day, but I didn’t think I’d be that much of a natural. Do you really think a hammock like this would be good for-”
“Here’s a tip,” Braeburn said, just finishing his milk. “When you’re trying to get a foal to sleep, it’s better to coo at them.”
They both snickered, Strongheart’s cheeks flushing as she took the bottle and replaced it with the soother. “Right, right, sorry. Sleep tight, Braeby.” A kiss was placed on Braeburn’s cheek, then the rocking and lulling continued until Braeburn drifted into a peaceful slumber.
The moon hung high in the sky by the time Braeburn and Little Strongheart began work on their little playhouse of sorts.A teepee made of simple materials, left over lumber, some blankets, and hay for a place to rest. Far away from ponies or buffalo, Braeburn and Strongheart had each other all to themselves.
“Ya see that bunch of stars right there?” Braeburn asked, pointing up to a collection of lights right above them, to which Strongheart nodded. “We call that Orian. An ancient hero said to be from a race of beings that were expert fighters.”
Strongheart tilted her head to the side. “Looks more like a pig to me.”
Barking a laugh, Braeburn jabbed his companion with his knee. “A pig, really? What pig do you know that wears a belt?”
“I don’t see any belt on that pig.”
“There! Right there, the three stars in a row!”
“Just look at the imagination my little foal has,” Strongheart teased, giving his diaper a bump with her flank. “Thinking he’s seeing great warriors.”
Braeburn stuck his tongue out, though blushed while doing so. “Just look at the lack of imagination my momma has. You named one of your constellations Fast Wind. Brrriinng, brrrrriiing, oh, a call from the redundant department of redundancy!” Placing his hoof next to his ear, Braeburn nodded a few times. “Yes, yes, hmm, I see. Of course, I’ll tell her right away.” ‘Hanging up’ his phone, he turned back to Strongheart. “Would you look at that? The department says that’s redundant!”
“Hmph, you’ll never get it,” Strongheart lamented while pulling Braeburn in close. “Guess you’ll always be a buffalo calf if you can’t even get the stars right.”
“Always being your foal...” Their tails entwined, as best as they could with one’s being a lot thicker than the other’s. “Don’t sound bad at all, really.”
It was a silent agreement; almost. Braeburn didn’t want to stop playing foal and Strongheart didn’t want him to stop. Wordless, with only action, touch, and the locking of eyes to convey the message, it was realized that they both enjoyed this setup. Treating Braeburn as a foal, at least on a basic level, allowed a sort of closeness neither had expected, a communication possible only through innocence of thought.
“I bet you would love that,” from Strongheart, accompanied by a nuzzle, stood for, “I’d love it if we can.”
Braeburn nuzzling back and saying, “Hush, you, you got me into this diaper in the first place!” meant, “I’m so glad we did this.”
“Not my fault you’re such a huge foal,” she teased back, the admittance of how much she enjoyed it in her tone as plain as the feathers in her headband.
With a yawn, Braeburn leaned into her fuzzy coat and settled in for the night. “I must be if I’m already sleepy again. I nap for hours, we go for a run, and I’m already tuckered out.”
“Must be all that heavy lifting we did, what with your frail pony body. There’s no way you can lift as much as me and not get tired.” Strongheart wrapped a leg around him, pulling as much of his body against hers as she could.
“Hey, at least I carried the stuff here, didn’t I?” Braeburn fought back. Sighing, Braeburn looked up at his dear friend with no small amount of melancholy. “I sure am gonna miss you when you have to leave again. Don’t know how I’ll survive now that I’ve got a taste of being your foal.”
Little Strongheart was caught off guard. This was the first time their agreement had been spoken aloud, his raising of it being more casual than she would have expected as well. Her surprise didn’t last long, though, and she comforted him by running her snout along the back of his head, knocking his hat off. “For now, Braeby, let’s just enjoy it while it lasts. Then, next year, we can do it all over again.”
“I’d like that a lot. Next time I’ll be twice the duck I was before.” He cracked an eye open to catch Strongheart snorting a laugh.
“Say, Braeby...” Strongheart began before shaking her head. “Uhh, I mean, Braeburn. Would you like to come to my ceremony? The one where I stop being ‘little’?”
Braeburn opened both his eyes wide. “You want me to be there? But it’s a buffalo tradition, I’d be intruding.”
“Didn’t stop me from crashing the Apple Family Hoedown, right?”
“Oh yeah. Extra emphases on the ‘crashing’ part.” Chuckling, Braburn turned so he could hug her warm body. “I think I’d like coming a whole lot. Getting to see you all grown up while I’m still your little foal.”
“Heh, not sure how much growing up would actually happen. We both know we’re stranger than jumping beans, through and through.” Licking his nose, Strongheart added in a hushed tone, “Makes us perfect for each other.”
Pupils shrunk to the size of apple seeds, Braeburn stuttered and shivered, the noise from his diaper giving the tension in his body a prominent presence. “H-H-Huh?”
But Little Strongheart said nothing more and instead rolled over Braeburn to be a makeshift blanket. “Now get lots of rest. You still have a harvest to take care of in the morning, and if you’re late, you won’t get any cookies after dinner.”
For a few moments more Braeburn was stubbed, but let it go with a sigh, settling down for the night. Like Strongheart said, all that mattered was to enjoy it right now. Right now, he could be a strange combination of adult and foal, wearing a diaper and being cuddly and close, but still strong in the eyes of someone who mattered. “Sweet dreams, Strongheart. Still need me to help with diaper changing practice?”
“If you don’t mind,” Strongheart teased, nuzzling his mane.
“Believe me, I don’t mind the least little bit.”
