Rewritten

Friday, March 2nd 2014

United States

New York City, New York

The last line finished. A swerve of the pencil that went down to finish the last line of a pony sitting down beside her friend in the comfort of her room. The artist was finally finished, and all he could do is look down at the piece he created. He was not happy about it, nor proud of it. Why he did it was a mystery that was unknown. It was a secret that he hid deep within himself. All the tired soul now could do now is loll back and scan the room he sat in. Dark, only lighten up by the lights outside, and a simple lamp that lit up his work. He rubbed his eyes, groaned, almost fell back on his chair, caught his balance, and sighed with annoyance as he looked out the window. He was surely up high, wasn't he? Up in this tall skyscraper of New York City, almost at the start of a new day. When the artist turned around and looked at the clock, on the small wall behind him, the gentle pendulum swung back and fourth in unison with the patter of rain outside. It was a gentle atmosphere in this room. The window had water run gently down it, distorting the light from the world outside that flooded in. He felt very emotional. Too emotional, after what he had gotten done. Nobody ever thought about the work he was putting in, and how little time he had to do it. A mind that was too smart for this, who knew this was a bad idea, so why did he do it? All the artist could do is flip through, page by page, of the scene he created. Of course towards the end he ran out of ideas, but it didn't matter. He worked too hard tonight, and it was time for rest. The tired figure stood up, and with a sigh, headed towards the small door on the other side of his work room. "What are you doing?" barked a voice as the door swung open, almost hitting him. Startled, the artist threw up his hands in defense, and blinked and the sudden shining of light that came into the room.

"Going to bed, sweetheart"

"No.... No you aren't"

"I worked too hard, I'm done for tonight... Okay?" He replied with a moan, trying to walk out of the room, but stopped by a arm. Again, he flinched. It was nothing to be afraid of, just the arm of his partner. A small female, with a big attitude. She apparently didn't have any plans on him leaving.

"I pulled a couple all nighters to get this done. You will too. We have a plan and it can't be carried out without some dedication. Dedication and sleep don't go well in this operation" She replied as she looked out the window herself. The figure, who's shadow cast down on the floor, sighed, before turning around and looking down at the desk. From here, she took her hand and looked through each drawing. Every line almost perfect, showing their dirty message. One that made the woman staring down at them smile, and the artist watching roll his eyes. But it was impossible that she was completely happy. She turned back around and looked into the dark, and baggy eyes of the exhausted artist.

"And?" He said with a frown.

"You are right on with the sketches, they are ones that are almost identical to the show. The art is perfect but you're not following my story here" She said quietly as she observed "Rarity is supposed to put a spell on Applejack that makes her want to be doing what was prescribed. It shouldn't be that Applejack just had to crap after a large meal, and they just decided they should go put on Sweetie's old diapers. How in the hell did large diapers get up there in the first place?"

"Bedwetting" He moaned "She had been bedwetting and the diapers were just big enough"

"No, no, no" The woman shook her head "It doesn't make any sense, unless they magically got bigger. I want you to follow my ideas, not go on some random tangent of whatever this is. If we are going to make a message, let's make it a good one, shall we Mark?"

"Alright" Mark said as he put his head down, he mumbled it a little, but said "I-I'd rather you say the art was bad, instead of the story. N-now I have to redraw the whole entire thing, where if it was just a problem in the drawing, I could erase. I have to restart everything now"

"Tough luck" Miranda said with a huff "I have to animate all this crap. Do you have any idea how hard that is? We have a week, now hurry the hell up or this isn't happening"

So, their names were Mark and Miranda. The two criminals who planned to carry out what seemed to be harmless, but would be extremely potent. The girl, she seemed pretty confident about it. A past employee of the company she planned to sabotage, who would get sweet revenge and laugh while her fetish was aired on national television. Mark, who was a young artist, no older then 21, would finally have his art recognized in such a crude matter. Art that he almost perfected to be exactly like that of the show of the ponies he was drawing, but now was incorporating a liking he deep down wanted to keep secret. That similar liking the two shared, was being ABDL's, or in this case, more diaper lovers. They liked going the whole way like Applejack and Rarity did in their story, together most of the time, but they shared no love. Besides, not only would it be this type of crudeness, but also some other things to really make a show if they would possibly choose to go this way. But Mark couldn't work anymore, or at least he thought he couldn't draw Applejack's and Rarity's dilemma all over again. He turned to his partner with a sigh, as she looked through the art again.

"Look, I got the rough sketches done on the second idea" He said as he took them out of a special folder that wouldn't smudge the art or wrinkle it. He slid them in front of her "As you can see, I followed your idea straight on. I'll continue that, but Applejack and Rarity will have to wait another night. I'm burned out on that"

"Fine" Replied the woman as she tossed the papers up in the air "Just get something the fuck done. I'm going to go continue animating idea 1". After that, Miranda marched out. Mark rolled his eyes as he looked at her behind. All puffy, crinkly, and large, since she was obviously wearing a diaper. Something the both of them did while doing their work. It eliminated bathroom breaks, and fed their love for what they were working on.

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Before Mark could get back to work, he had to turn the lights out. He walked out the door of his small apartment room, and put a hand above head to block the brightness of the light. When he got to the switch, he flicked it off and the entire apartment was once again lighten up by only the loud city outside. What was even louder was the strikes of lightning, that would sometimes come over the falling of rain, beeping of cars, and hums of plane engines. It was honestly peaceful, this atmosphere. Yes Mark was walking around in a wet diaper, basically in his own filth, and doing tons of work, but he still liked his surroundings oddly. The house was a disaster in itself. They worked all day, so trash laid all about it. The smell was even worse. In the family room, their headquarters for diaper changing, it had that baby kind of smell. That baby powder and dirty diaper smell. The both of them had to do the other thing earlier, so that smell still lingered as well.

Mark headed into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. He looked out the window, and into the city of New York while he slowly took some sips of the strong coffee that would probably fail to keep him awake. It was sort of depressing, it made him question things which he didn't like. About life in general and stuff. Who knew staying up for nights and drawing colored ponies in diapers could make a man think this way. It wasn't odd, really, devoting your life to sabotaging a company you never really hated, by drawing ponies doing dirty things in diapers, and showing it to thousands of young eyes. Mark felt evil because of it, but he sort of just accepted it after awhile. First he tried to deny that it was horrible at all. It was all for Miranda, his secret crush that hated him, to make her happy. He did everything, by drawing, giving her a base of operations for her work, and of course being a diaper buddy. Then the week that followed, he got sort of angry at himself, although he kept going. He just told himself how horribly wrong he was, but still drew anyway. Mark thought about stopping drawing, at one point when he came up with ideas like 'I'll just do one more before handing it over to another artist' but that never worked. On came some depression, and here he was. Now Mark was just accepting of the entire project Miranda thought up. The young man sighed, put down his mug when it was empty, and slid back to him room in his T-Shirt, diaper, and fluffy slippers.

The artist sat down with a crinkle and squish in his chair. He rolled his eyes at this, but he ignored it as he looked at his old art that was still on the table. Rarity and Applejack together, wetting and messing themselves. Disgusting, but oddly pleasurable in his eyes, somehow. Mark cracked his knuckles, then pushed away the pictures he spent the last day drawing. The artist put down some new paper, and grabbed his mechanical pencil. The tip landed on the light lines of what seemed would soon be a pony. The tip ran along the paper as it started to draw the first line of Fluttershy's leg.