Crinkle Chronicles

“Look, Rarity! I don’t need diapers anymore!”

I freeze mid-stitch, somewhere between being horrorstruck and sure I have something clogging my ears. I must have misheard. She can’t have just said she doesn’t need diapers anymore. It’s impossible. My mouth twitches as I force a smile.

“Sweetie? Would you mind repeating that? I don’t quite think I—”

But as I turn around my worst fears are realized. Sweetie grins widely up at me and it’s not hard to see why. Gone is the thick padding I helped her into earlier this morning; instead, a pair of thin, stretchy, pink training pants are pulled up around her bottom. Unsullied training pants, I note with no small amount of despair.

I haven’t been quite so lucky today. I’m already on my second diaper.

“W-Why, Sweetie, that’s…”

I search for the right words; words of encouragement, support, praise, but they don’t come. My mouth is as dry as old canvas. I’ve got to say something, though, so I blurt the first positive thought that comes into my head.

“—th-that’s wonderful!”

Rather ungenerously, I say it while imagining myself being the one in the training pants instead. My bluff works though, and Sweetie proudly strikes a pose, the better to show off her big-girl pants. Funny, I seem to recall her doing the exact same sort of thing when she used the potty for the first time, too. How far away that time feels now…

Well, enough of that. If Sweetie’s confident enough to be wearing trainers instead of diapers, something must have changed. She’ll probably tell Twilight all about it—as well she should. Poor Twilight has been working around the clock to find a counter-spell to cure everypony, and any new piece of information would help enormously—but my curiosity is too great. I have to know, too.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” I say, pretending to admire the shamefully foalish designs printed all over the stretchy, soft plastic. “But tell me, Sweetie, does this mean you’ve, um… been accident free today?”

“Uh-Huh!”

I feel my stomach turn to water.

“Wh-What kinds of accidents did you avoid?”

“Firsts!” she chirps.

I gasp. That’s impossible!

“F-Firsts?”

“Mm-hmm! Twice!”

My admiration for Sweetie’s monumentous accomplishment mixes in with a crushing sense of defeat. My shoulders sag under the weight of the realization that my own little sister has more control over her bodily functions than I do. Far more, from the sounds of it. I can’t tell I’ve needed to go until I’m already going.

As my tail flicks back and forth in a sudden moment of self-consciousness, my diaper crinkles traitorously under my onesie. The body stocking does little to muffle the crinkling, and it does absolutely nothing to hide my diaper’s bulk. If anything, the tightly stretched fabric only accentuates how bulky my puffy, absorbent padding actually is. The only thing that has kept me from dying of sheer embarrassment is the sudden, overwhelming demand throughout Ponyville for concealing dresses and practical onesies and other such clothing to hide and disguise the shameful things we’ve all been forced into wearing. My sewing machine has scarcely slept all week.

Sweetie claims she made it to the bathroom twice without having an accident? That’s better than I’ve done. It’s better than anypony’s done! I want to be happy for her, but I just…

“Rarity? What’s wrong?” Sweetie cocks her head to the side, frowning like she always does when she knows I’m not being truthful.

“N-Nothing’s wrong!” I lie, quickly swallowing my bitterness and slapping the fake smile back on. “Well! That’s… certainly very encouraging. Is that all you wanted to show me?”

Again, my fib dispels her fears. Sweetie nods happily. “Yep! Oh, and the girls wanted to know if you’ve got their clothes ready. They’re still in diapers, but I’ll wear mine anyway.” She puffs out her chest, smirking, and admires her training pants. They make hardly a rustle as she struts about. “I’ll have to cover them up. Everypony’ll be jealous otherwise.”

I want to rebuke her for falling victim to the sin of pride, but she has a point. Many of the ponies I’ve seen would kill to stop soiling themselves. I would count myself among them if I weren’t the cultured, levelheaded pillar of the community that I am.

I float over the three small onesies I finished for the Crusaders earlier today. Personally, I think they look very tasteful; Sweetie’s is a pale off-white, with light purple hemming and stitching. They’re all solid colors, no absurd foalish designs anywhere. Not like Pinkie’s onesie. Why she insisted on it being decorated with little teddy bears, building blocks, and rock candies, I’ll never know... or rather, I have a suspicion, but I’m not going to ask.

I float over Sweetie’s new garment and her eyes light up like it’s Hearth’s Warming Eve.

“It’s perfect!” she squeals, and immediately starts squirming her way in. I help her get head and front hooves through the holes, then direct her attention towards the flap at the bottom; the part that would normally go over her diaper and snap shut. Since her pull-up is thin, that particular area is a teensy bit loose. I’ll have to adjust the sizing later.

“I’m sure you already know how this works, yes?”

“Yep! Just pull to make it unsnap when I need to go, and I’ll deal with the rest.”

Lacking anything else to say, I pat her gently on the rump and send her out the door. “Have fun!” I call after her, and she vanishes down the street with a promise that she will. Habitually, I glance around before going back inside.

Every single pony walking the street is taped, pinned, and otherwise stuffed into a diaper.

Every single one.

Though, to say they’re walking is a bit of a stretch; mostly it’s them darting around from cover to cover, praying that nopony sees them. About the only ones that aren’t hiding are the ones traveling in groups, because at least that way you can pretend everypony is staring at your partner instead of you.

Not far from the boutique, two such ponies stop. The unicorn of the pair says something to her earth pony friend and ducks into a nearby movie rental shop, leaving the earth pony practically shaking with nervousness, exposed to every wandering eye on the street; which, I should point out, is practically nopony. We’re all in the same boat, and we have no interest in paying special attention to anypony else. That isn’t to say it’s easy to convince yourself you aren’t being looked at.

The poor mare certainly looks stricken, standing there all alone. Her pretty blue eyes glance around fearfully and she wipes sweat from her forehead. Her onesie is pale cream, with pink hemming. She looks sick; but then again, all of us are sick, in one way or another.

I’m on the verge of venturing out and standing firm with her until her partner comes back, but then a shiver runs through her from nose to tail. And then that tail lifts up. We all know what that means.

Her already-pale face blanches. It only takes a moment, and then it’s all over.

“Lyraaaa!” whines the pony, trotting in place. Her friend hurries back out of the shop, saddlebags empty.

“What is it, Bon? Didja have another acci— Woah!!” She clamps a mint hoof over her nose.

As if in response to her reaction, Bon-Bon shivers again and the sagging bulge in the back of her diaper grows even bigger. Lyra gapes, goggle eyed. I want to look away, but I can’t.

Soiling herself right in front of her friend is too much for poor Bon-Bon. Her eyes well up and two fat tears roll down her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling. A desperate, terrified whine builds in her throat. More tears leak out. Lyra doesn’t know what to do. The whine is building to a wail of purest despair and and rage and helplessness; but before she can break down, Lyra pulls her into a hug. She gently rubs Bon-Bon’s back, cooing reassurances far too private for me to hear.

Bon-Bon buries her head in the crook of Lyra’s neck and lets out quiet, angry sobs. Lyra keeps rubbing her back, still whispering, still uncertain. Bon’s tail swishes around.

Suddenly, Lyra’s face lights up and a sly grin spreads across her face.

She’s not going to…?

Still hugging Bon tightly, Lyra scrunches her face up with effort and pushes. She floods her diaper almost instantly, the puffy padding swelling greatly as it soaks up the not-quite accident; but that wasn’t what she was going for. More than ever I want to look away, but a feeling of horrified curiosity keeps me watching. I want to see how this will turn out. She’s still straining, still concentrating. Her cheeks are bright red. At last, her tail lifts up high, and…

I avert my eyes. I can’t watch this again.

It’s a beautiful spring day and the birds are all singing. Somewhere in the background, a dog barks.

Ten agonizing seconds pass before Lyra finally breathes a huge sigh of relief.

Bon-Bon hears the sigh. She hiccups, blinks, frowns, wrinkles her nose. Her eyes dart down to Lyra’s waist, and when she sees what her friend has done—at how much of it she’s done—her mouth falls open. Lyra grins widely, almost like she’s proud of herself.

More words, a quick kiss on both cheeks to dry Bon’s tears. A whisper. Bon-Bon nods shyly and smiles, Lyra takes her by the hoof, and both of them waddle off together down the street, Lyra’s tail draped over Bon’s back in just such a way that it conveniently hides her friend’s accident while doing absolutely nothing at all to hide her own.

Crisis averted.

I make a hasty retreat back into the boutique. Even after being presented with such a heartwarming display of true friendship, I can think only of one thing;

That’s… going to happen to me today, too…

I shake my head violently. I’m not going to think about it. I refuse to think about it. Think instead on how the worst of times bring out the very best in our true friends… Yes, that’s better. Put myself in Lyra’s position. Would I be able to do the same thing, if it came down to it? …I don’t know if I could, honestly. I would like to believe the events of the last few days haven’t changed my generous nature, but soiling yourself intentionally is a lot to ask from somepony…

What are you saying, Rarity? Letting doubt enter your mind so easily? A dirty diaper shouldn’t bother you in the slightest! At least the mess is contained, and not… not. Besides, it isn’t like you aren’t used to it by now…

I remember well how this whole incontinence thing started. I was just coming out of the shops with a few new exciting patterns and bolts of fabric and other small things, quite pleased with myself and my purchases. I hadn’t gone ten steps out the door when suddenly I felt a warm trickle of something running down my inner thigh. Luckily, I made it to a bush before anypony saw—but imagine my humiliation! Imagine my confusion! I hadn’t had an accident like that since I was… well, never you mind how old I was. Cider was involved, it doesn’t count.

Being the rational pony I am, I assumed my accident was perhaps a lingering side-effect of my recent visit to the Day Spa. Their techniques are so relaxing, I’ve worried about wetting myself afterwards more than once—I decided to think nothing more of it, and made it home without any further difficulties. My first wish, understandably, was for a shower.

While I was busy shampooing my mane, it was there that the other thing happened.

Naturally, I fainted dead away.

The water was quick to revive me and I awoke to find the evidence already washed down the drain. My hope that I’d dreamed the whole thing was shattered a half-hour or so later, when Twilight and the other girls arrived in a fine state of panic. Somepony threw a large, fluffy diaper at my head and told me to put it on right away. I didn’t think to question them. Even Rainbow was thickly padded.

I don’t remember much of that first accident, which is good. The second time it happened, though, I remember every gory detail… which is exactly why I don’t want to think about it. It’s always the same disgusting sensations, the same tired descriptions, same spreading stickiness and same offensive, penetrating smell. It isn’t worth describing, because it lost all its shock value a long time ago. Messing is now just another part of my day, and that’s exactly what makes it so horrifying.

All I can do—all any of us can do—is wait for Twilight to come up with a cure. I certainly can’t stop it. I never can. I’m not lucky like Sweetie.

Oh yes, I seethe, Sweetie is such a lucky pony, isn’t she? She used the potty like a big pony, didn’t she? Did she haveto be so insufferably pleased with herself!?

Jealousy, however, is among the very least generous of all emotions, so I push those wicked thoughts off dear Sweetie and focus them elsewhere. They recenter on the culprit behind this mes– ah, this unfortunate business. I burn his image into my mind and grind my teeth for good measure. The yellow eyes, the hooked snaggletooth, that constant knowing smile…

It’s all Discord’s fault!

I whinny angrily, stamping my hoof in justified indignation. The sheer cheek of that brute, I swear! Casting an incontinence spell over Ponyville on a whim, as a foalish prank, and he forgot the counterspell! Or so he claims. I just know his original plan was to sit and watch as we all scurried around with our tails tucked between our padded legs, perhaps while sipping a refreshing milk of chocolate glass… but as much as I’d like to believe he’s letting the spell do its work on purpose, he has to have forgotten the counterspell. Why else would he be suffering the same fate as the rest of us? Would the great Draconequus of old, the former Lord of the Seven Isles and master over all things weirdly absurd, allow himself to be seen in the same sort of compromising position poor Bon was just in? I very much doubt it, and yet he was.

Oh, I can only imagine the absolutely delightful shock the two sisters felt when they saw him all padded up on Fluttershy’s couch. I’ll never forget how their faces lit up when they suddenly (and unexpectedly) witnessed proof that it wasn’t a joke, contrary to his stammering, his cries of N-No, really, it wasn’t an accident! I meant to do that, I…

Since Luna was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, Celestia answered him. To her credit, she managed to keep a straight face throughout the whole exchange.

You meant to do it?

Y… Yes! Why, of course I did. All the cool ponies are doing it, didn’t you know? You should really keep up with the times, Celly. Being padded would suit you well.

He wriggled his eyebrows and tried to cut a grin at Celestia, but he ended up cutting something else entirely. His bravado vanished on the spot. He nearly melted into the cushions with shame, but stopped because he probably realized it would have made the diaper leak and cause trouble for Fluttershy.

At this point, I remember the smell being so incomprehensibly awful that Angel Bunny and Applejack ran around the house frantically throwing all the windows open, but not even the morning breeze was enough to kill the stench. I would have helped them, but it’s difficult to run with both hooves clamped over your nose.

Amidst all the chaos and confusion, Celestia just chuckled.

Say that again slowly, so I can remember it. You soiled yourself on purpose? …Twice?

He tried to answer, he really did. But after the near-total decimation of his poor diaper, he couldn’t say anything at all. Fluttershy hopped up next to him and nuzzled him in the side, her own thick padding crinkling under her.

Awww, does my little Discikins need a changey-wangey now?

Discord sheepishly pressed his index fingers together, and…

Well, it may not have happened like I imagined it, but he needed to be humbled somehow. Suffice it to say he is under very close supervision right now, and mercy be to poor Fluttershy, who went with him to Canterlot. Yes, Element of Kindness, I know—but to think she’d insisted on changing him…

Deep breath, collect myself. I’ve a long day ahead of me, and I refuse to spend it focusing on unpleasant bodily functions. Everypony is depending on me to do my part during this crisis. I want to work. I want to be distracted.

I step back up to the marrequin and resume pinning Lilly’s summer dress together. It has to be light, but it also has to have volume in the back; Lilly wears cloth instead of disposables. Cloth diapers tend to be thicker, harder to hide. I have things well in hoof; if nothing else, this catastrophe has made me a sort-of expert in this type of clothing. After this is all over, I think I’ll continue making these onesies and other such cute things for The Buckled Harness in Canterlot. I’ve a feeling they have a set of clients that will appreciate them.

On the subject of cloth diapers, I’d considered wearing them in lieu of disposables, perhaps in a floral pattern to match the season. I’m told that when I was very, very young, mother and father had me wearing cloth of the brightest colors, and I do so like to carry on traditions of fashion where my family is concerned, especially considering how infrequently the words fashion and mymother and father fall into the same sentence…  but that was then, and this is now. I didn’t have to think very long to realize cloth wouldn’t work for me; diapers you have to wash afterwards? It’s enough to make one’s skin crawl! It simply won’t do, and I’m afraid no amount of clever stitch work will change my mind.

I finish Lilly’s dress without too much trouble and do the chalks for two more onesies. Lunch is two fresh mangoes and a tall glass of lemonade. As I sip my drink and tug at my onesie around my shoulders, my thoughts inevitably stray to the current state of my diaper. I haven’t had a single accident since Sweetie left to play with her friends… or at least, I don’t think I have. I’m not going to check. Checking would make me feel uncomfortable, and I’ve only just gotten comfortable. I’ll check myself once Sweetie gets home… or no, scratch that, I’ll do it just before she’s due to come home. As her role model, I should always present a picture of maturity and cleanliness.

Grrrr… Not that she needs meto show her how to stay clean…

For some reason, that thought conjures up the image of a smiling Pinkie Pie who cheerfully informs me I’m being neurotic and paranoid about nothing. However, I don’t think my dream image of Pinkie is terribly credible in that regard, seeing as how she’s in desperate need of a change and yet doesn’t seem to care; or in other words, she’s acting exactly like the real Pinkie. The last time I saw her, she was prancing around in diapers so thoroughly soaked that she genuinely needed her onesie to hold them up. I say diapers and them, plural, because I’m fairly certain she was wearing two at once. Possibly three. Or more. I don’t see how she could make a single diaper swell enough to almost make the buttons pop off her onesie. I made it stronger than that.

Like I said, I have my suspicions (more like unspoken deductions) about her, but… no, it’s not my business. Pinkie is Twilight’s affair, seeing as the two are having one, and if Twilight is accepting of Pinkie’s unusual tastes, I should be, too. Based on what I’ve seen in the past regarding Twilight and thickness of padding, it’s even possible that Pinkie’s obsession with thickness can be directly traced back to our dear princess. Four at once? I was there to see it, and I could still hardly believe it. That’s another story for another time, though.

For now, I suppose the best I can do is invent onesies for Pinkie and Twilight with extra room in the back and strong elastic in the leggings… Hmm… Ooh, that’s an idea.A combination onesie and diaper cover, perhaps? With a waterproof lining sewn in around the bottom?

I pop the last chunk of juicy mango in my mouth and chew slowly. Hmm… a refinement to a truly classic, functional piece of nurseryware? It wouldn’t just work for Pinkie and Twilight, it would probably work for foals, too. Mothers would love something like that.

“Hmm,” again. Food for thought. Naturally, they’ll need two onesies each; one normal sized, one extra-large in the back for when they need to accommodate that considerable bulk they seem to enjoy so much. I’ll think on it later. Yawn, drain glass, refill, and start toddling back to my idea corner. After a moment’s thought, I take the pitcher of lemonade with me, too. Thinking is thirsty work.

This week, my idea corner is the one on the far left behind three dusty racks of evening wear from last season. I’ve a small table and chair set up, with rolls of marking paper, chalk, and oil pastels in neat little racks, just how I like them. There’s a sewing machine, plenty of thread, and a few marrequins squeezed in against the wall. I settle onto the chair with a muffled crinkle and get comfortable.

So much extra work, I muse, and all over these puffy, white, disposable things. Disposable! The thought of me wearing something meant to be thrown away should offend my finer sensibilities, but it sort of…  doesn’t. Not completely. I’ll readily admit that I don’t hate being diapered as much as I thought I would—providing my diaper is clean, of course, but this isn’t just about the alternative of not being diapered being markedly more unpleasant. Silly as it sounds, I like the tightness, the way a clean diaper swaddles me; how it keeps my, ah… sensitive regions so warm, and yet isn’t restrictive like a dress. I like how soft and squashy they are, like big pillows.

Guilty admission? Given the circumstances, I also rather like how they let me concentrate.

Another sip of lemonade. I reach for the chalks and paper.

The hours fly by. I finish three more normal onesies, two hoofed sleepers (one foal sized, one not), a few more dresses, and a gem-studded saddle for a Canterlot client who has absolutely no idea what we in Ponyville are going through, and I wish her all the joy of her ignorance. Half the lemonade is gone.

Since I’m all caught up on my orders, it’s time to do the chalks on the Waterproof Onesie for Pinkie. If it goes well, I’ll make one for all the girls. I’ve recently finished a sort of… gift for Rainbow, as a surprise, so I’ll try out my improvements on that, first. I’m sure Rainbow won’t object. Before I do that, though, I get out a fresh sheet of paper and a crisp piece of chalk, and start on the basic shape. Even I shouldn't cut fabric without a guide. The work goes fast. I’ve drawn so many outlines for onesies over the past few days, I could do it in my sleep.

The elastic in the legs is the most important part. Stretchy, but tight and firm. Just like the elastic on a diaper, but better. Let’s see… yes, like that. I’ll never admit this to anypony, but I’ve worn so many diapers over the past few days, I know their every shape and curve, too.

I dab at my forehead with a lace handkerchief. The air in the Boutique’s grown stuffy as the day’s worn on and my onesie’s feeling a bit tight and warm, especially in the back. That’s the one thing about these disposables I don’t like. They’re warm and comfortable because they trap heat, but sometimes they trap the heat a little too well.

Not that I’m complaining. As a filly, I can only remember diapers being cold and clammy, constantly leaking into my crib. I remember tantrums, lots of coddling, frequent changes. I’d always assumed all diapers felt the same—and yet, these aren’t any of those things. I’ve already admitted I like how a clean diaper feels, and when they’re not clean, they never leak. Thank goodness for that!

Even so, there’s something about these disposables that’s been bothering me for a while—nothing serious, really, not nearly important enough to bring up in polite conversation—but I simply can’t understand how it’s possible. Disposables have no right to be so comfortable! Why can they hold so much? Compared to my old cloth ones the difference is night and day, no offense to Princess Luna.

What changed between then and now? Are these just that much better than my cloth ones were? Does the fault lie with the diapers mother and father had me in…? Probably. Judging from the state Lilly’s diaper was in when she made her order, cloth diapers are perfectly capable of holding just as much as these are… or maybe the cloth ones come from the same source as the disposables? I very much doubt Lilly had a stash of cloth diapers in a box in the back of her closet, waiting for the day when they’d be put to use.

It almost seems like these disposables are meant to be worn for long periods of time—longer than just one use, I mean. Sort of like what Pinkie’s doing. That can’t be right, though; Pinkie is Pinkie, but why on earth would anypony want to wet and soil themselves, let alone sit in it…?

I give my head a little shake and refocus on my drawings. Bodily functions are forbidden topics, and I shan’t let myself think about them—though, the entire city being padded has made those functions all but impossible to avoid, both in thought and in form, as I seem to be aptly demonstrating right this moment. I can only hope the standards of good taste don’t suffer as a result. It would be terribly awkward if we all started being as candid about the bathroom as a group of toddlers.

Anyway, the fact that these disposables feel so good isn’t what’s bothering me. Not really. What’s bothering me is how Twilight got her hooves on them right after the spell was cast. We six plus Discord were the first to be diapered. The diapers didn’t come from anywhere in the market—I know, because I checked. Why did Twilight have them in the first place? I can only think of one or two possibilities, but it still raises the question of why on earth anypony would want to wear diapers.

Although… if the diapers weren’t actually Twilight’s and were Pinkie’s instead…? Or maybe if they were a mix of both? Hmm, better still, if they play secret games together…Perhaps those two would like a few extra things in addition to better onesies? I’ll ask Twilight for permission first. She’d know best. Goodness, it’s warm in here.

I fan my face and tug at my collar to get some air down my front, but as the fresh air hits my skin I stiffen with shock. My skin is… damp. Down there. Especially near my stomach, where the diaper’s taped around my waist…

My diaper is soaked.

With a wail of alarm I leap to my hooves, a million questions firing off in my head all at once. How long have I been wet? How could I possibly not have noticed?

Eeeew, it’s… heavy! This can’t have been from just one accident! This is three, four, easily! No wonder my onesie was feeling so tight! My diaper is all warm and squishy and swollen and it wants to sag but my onesie is holding it up and actually pressing it into my skin—that’s why I didn’t realize I’d wet, because it was pressed too close for me to notice the heavy, moist feeling wrapped around my nethers. As I stand there gaping in horror I feel a mild tingling sensation and my diaper seems to grow even heavier and warmer but I don’t know, I just don’t know if I’m actually wetting again or if I’m imagining it and Ugh!! This is the. Most. DISGUSTING thing I’ve ever done!

...Well, no, actually that’s a fib. It would be the most disgusting thing if I’d also done seconds on top of the wettings. I’ve never done both at once, never ever, I always change the moment I use my diaper—but this is still awful! I’ve been in the same wet diaper for hours! What was I thinking!? Of courseI would be soaked before Sweetie got home, anypony’s diaper would be after all that time!

Deep breath… Alright Rarity, ease off the hysterics. Urine is sterile. Twilight swore it was. You didn’t feel it happening. Nopony will think ill of you for not noticing sooner. Othershave had far, farlarger accidents of this nature, you can be sure of that.

I try to ignore the real truth behind why this is so upsetting; I was wet even while I was preparing to get back to work after lunch, and I simply didn’t care enough to confirm it. Not only that, but when I said I like the feel of a nice, clean diaper, I was actually talking about the warm, squishy, immensely comfortable wet diaper I was already wearing. I was sitting in a wet diaper, and enjoying it.

My hooves fly up to my mouth. Sweet Celestia, I’m a freak!

But as that black thought tries to take hold of me, my inner voice of reason calmly objects, No Rarity, you are not a freak. How could you enjoy the feel of a wet diaper if you weren’t even aware you were wet? You thought it was clean, therefore you enjoyed it as if it were actually clean.

…Y-Yes, that’s right. I’m not a freak! It was an easy mistake. Nopony has to know and nopony ever will know. I turn and head for my room. I’ll simply trot upstairs, quick shower, and change into a nice, fresh, clean—

But I don’t get any farther than clean and halfway up the staircase, and I don’t get into a clean diaper either, because at that precise moment there’s an urgent rapping on the door.

“Hey, Rarity!” cries a familiar blue-pegasus voice, muffled slightly. More tapping. “Rarity, are you in there? I’ve got more… y’know, stuff!”

My ears perk up. More diapers? Just what I need, actually, but if I let her in, Rainbow will surely notice my current predicament, and I… I can’t. I simply can’t!  Being stuck in diapers has ruined my image enough, but to let Rainbow see an accident of this caliber? She’d tease me about it for years! I trot in place on the stairs, nervously glancing up towards the safety of my bedroom and the promise of a change and back down to the shop, where awaits me nothing but doom and laughter. Ohh, what do I do, what do I do?

“Look,” cries Rainbow, her voice cracking magnificently, “I can’t just leave it out here, so open up!”

R-Right, she can’t. Thanks to a mixup at the Post Office two days ago, a lot of diapers ended up being delivered in the wrong sizes; foal sized to homes with no foals, that sort of thing. The poor postal ponies are still scrambling to make things right, with the result that pegasi across town have been recruited as emergency delivery ponies. Thus, Rainbow knocking on my door. If I don’t answer, the package will be gone by the time I’ve finished changing. Incontinence makes ponies desperate in more ways than one, after all…

The rapping grows faster, more impatient. Anxious seconds tick by like hours. What do I do? I need to change, but I’m also running frightfully low on fresh padding. I should just go down there and let Rainbow in. I could… I could make an excuse, something on the stove, some reason I can’t stand around and chat. With my onesie covering things, she might not notice anything is amiss. It isn’t as if she’d see any… discoloration, or… come to think of it, I was right before. Based on the evidence between my legs, Pinkie was definitely wearing more than one soaked diaper at once.

Not really the time to think about that, you. Stay focused! There’s gotto be a way. I bite my lip and look over the Boutique’s showroom in a last-ditch attempt to find a way to defend myself and my dignity in any way I can, and—Ah, of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?

With my legs slightly forced apart by the sheer girth of my diaper, I waddle back downstairs, grab Lilly’s completed summer dress off its marrequin and slip it on over my onesie. Neckline, good. Shoulders, good. I give the ruffles in the back a little shake and the folds of fabric cascade down over my diaper, completely hiding it and my onesie from sight. Perfect. Now she’ll never know, and I won’t even have to be rude and look for an excuse to make her leave—

“Rarity!!”

“Comiiing!” I sing in my best I’m being creative today and feeling good about it voice, and sashay over to the door, throwing it open. Rainbow hovers on the other side, legs crossed over her chest, fuming. An impossibly thick, white diaper is taped around her stomach, crinkling with each swish of her prismic tail.

Rainbow bustles her way in and drops a large cardboard box on my nice clean floor, her huge poofy diaper brushing up against some of the marrequins as she lands. She scowls at me, her wings rustling with irritation, and waits for an explanation. Dark circles have sunk in under her eyes. It’s plain she hasn’t been sleeping well.

“So sorry I didn’t hear you calling, dear,” I simper all apologetically, giving her a flutter of the eyelashes. “I was occupied.”

It doesn’t work.

“Why?” snaps Rainbow. “What was so important that you couldn’t let me in? I’ve got four more of these things to deal with, and they’re heavy!”

“I was occupied,” I say in as sweet and firm a voice as I can manage.

Rainbow has more than one good reason to be irritated. Being a pegasi, she has to wear padding that’s several inches thicker and more absorbent than mine. It’s necessary. If a pegasus had a leaky diaper in mid-flight… well, you know. Unfortunately, the Emergency Pegasi Padding measure made all the pegasi in town targets of harsh scrutiny as far as diaper-cleanliness is concerned. One or two have had nervous breakdowns, the poor things.

Rainbow, though, is not delicate, nor is she prone to having nervous breakdowns, nor is she being singled out for unfair reasons. Considering all that, and especially considering the current state of my diaper and the very obviously clean, pristine state of hers, I can’t possibly see what she’s so worried about.

Resisting the urge to bare my teeth and butt heads with her, I smile sweetly and undo the string holding the package together. Lifting the flaps, I prepare to gasp in surprise—Why Rainbow, it’s just what I always wanted!—a little private joke to lighten the mood, that’s all, but instead my gasp comes out loud and genuine. There aren’t any diapers my size in the box! All of them are for little fillies. Diapers for Sweetie. Diaper’s she doesn’t need.

No! This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening! How could it possibly be any worse?

“R-Rainbow,” I squeak helplessly. “Th-These are… where are mine?”

Rainbow rolls her eyes, sits down, and promptly falls over. Her diaper is so awkwardly thick it’s throwing her off balance. I lend her my hoof and help her flip back over onto her stomach, but that isn’t much better because her padding is so bulky it forces her derriere into the air. When I try to help her up again, she swats my hoof aside with a wing. “I’ll just stay like this,” she grumbles, glaring up at me from the floor. “Not like it can get any worse, right?”

Hmm. I take that back. Perhaps she does feel like a victim, and moreso than me because her delivery duties require public appearances. Lesson learned.

“About the diapers?” I ask hopefully. “Can you at least give me a guess when they’ll arrive?”

“Sometime this evening, don’t know when. I’m so done with this.” She closes her eyes for a moment, sighs heavily. Without looking at me, she asks, “What’s with the dress?”

“Ah, I… felt like being different today.” I tousle my mane and strike a pose, somewhat hampered by my pampers. Dash snickers.

“Yeah, right. Admit it, you just didn’t want anypony to see you in one of these things. At least you have a choice.”

“You have a choice too, you know,” I sniff, willfully ignoring how close her first guess came. “Whatever happened to that onesie I made you? If you can fly in…that,” I say, lightly poking her diaper, “then I’m sure you can fly in anything.”

“Red ain’t my color,” she mumbles almost indistinctly.

Hmm. She’s probably just overcompensating for her padding and avoiding the onesie because she doesn’t want to be seen in anything even remotely foalish, practical or not. It seems like the sort of thing she’d do. I shrug. “Technically it wasn’t red, it was burgundy, but—say, I’ve an idea! Would you like something to cheer you up? It isn’t finished yet, but perhaps it doesn’t need to be.”

“What, you’re gonna show off something that’s less than perfect? That’s a first.” Rainbow struggles to her hooves and pulls her diaper up tighter around her stomach. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it? Where is it?”

“Right over th—”

At the same instant I point in the direction of the mock Wonderbolt suit on display in the center of the shop, a powerful shiver runs through me from horn to base of spine and a massive pressure rapidly builds in my rear.

Oh no. No, not now. Not nowww…

Rainbow? She doesn’t notice the shiver, nor the slightly green tinge I imagine is coloring my cheeks, because the moment she saw the Wonderbolt costume her eyes went wide and she forgot I existed. She prods and pokes at the suit, grinning, her foul mood and sleep deprivation all but forgotten.

I squirm around, clutch my stomach, pray to whichever deities are watching to spare me, but they don’t listen, they never do. The pressure builds quickly, too quickly, like a big sneeze that’s going to come out no matter how hard you try and stop it. In desperation I try to clench, but my swollen diaper prevents me from closing my legs. My tail slowly lifts up.

Nonononono…!!

I resolve that my last act as a lady will be to soil myself with dignity. I will not cry. I will not moan. I’ll keep my chin held high till’ the very end. I…

There is no contracting, no squeeze, no sensation of using any muscles at all. The pressure simply reaches a crescendo and then the seat of my diaper grows warm, too warm, and mushy and icky and Oh sweet Celestia make it sta-ha-haaawp! but it doesn’t stop, it just keeps pushing out, wave after wave after…

The whole thing, from the moment I feel the shiver to the moment when I finish filling my diaper, takes no longer than ten seconds. My legs tremble, but I dare not let them go out from under me. Under these circumstances, it seems unwise to faint.

“Sweet baby Celestia, this thing’s awesome!”

Eyes watering with humiliation, I look over at Rainbow. She still hasn’t noticed anything is amiss; she examines the Wonderbolt suit in the same way the cultured ponies of Canterlot might examine a piece of fine art, except with more tugging, touching, testing the stretchiness and smoothness of the nylon fabric. It’s a brilliant blue bodysuit with gold fabric across the stomach and a brass zipper that goes right down the middle, exactly like a real Wonderbolts flightsuit. In fact, everything about it is exactly like a real Wonderbolts flightsuit, except for one small detail.

Rainbow pokes the rear of the suit, and her hoof vanishes in a mass of poof.

“There’s a diaper under here?” she asks in disbelief. A quick look confirms her suspicions. Not only is it a diaper, but Rainbow recognizes the padded prison as one of her own—actually, it’s one of Twilight’s, but same difference. “Wow,” whispers Rainbow. “Under this thing it almost looks… normal. Like yours.”

I d-don’t think you want a diaper even remotelyclose to mine…

Rainbow steps back, slackjawed, and looks at the suit again, seeing it in a whole new light. Yes, she can cover up her shame and look awesome doing it. Yes, I made it for her for that specific purpose. Yes, I can be awesome when I try. “Awesomeness” is fashionable, after all.

Pity I don’t feel very awesome right at the moment. I feel like I’m going to mess again; or perhaps this is what being sick with dread feels like.

“This is for me, right? Right?” Rainbow looks over and sees me weakly nod yes. Her smile grows even wider. “It’s perfect!” she cheers, bounding around with glee. “It’s almost too awesome to wear! Maybe after I get in the Wonderbolts for real though, huh?”

I blink. “W-Won’t the curse be lifted by then?”

“Oh… oh yeah! Right, I forgot.” She laughs nervously and pulls at her oversized diaper’s waistband yet again. “Sorry, I’ve been in these stupid things too long. Why did you say it wasn’t finished yet?”

“What?” I sway on my hooves, feeling a bit lightheaded. “Oh. It, ah… I was going to sew in a waterproof lining, p-put some elastic around the legs…”

“So like a thinner version of a blanketsuit, right?”

“...Blanketsuit?”

“Yeah, a blanketsuit. Pinkie showed me hers. It’s like… like pajamas, but it’s got this really heavy fabric and layers of stuff in the back.” She makes a big rounded shape with her hooves in an attempt to demonstrate. “So you won’t… you know, leak. Or smell. Pretty neat, but too heavy to fly in. This thing, though,” she says, turning back to the WonderSuit. “Oh wow, this thing. I can’t even—can you take the hood off? Like on a real one?”

“It… it should…?”

“And it’s got a zipper down the front, and the trim’s all the right size, and…” as Rainbow fangirls over the suit and all the little details I’ve put into it, I ask myself why she’s doing all this talking, and yet hasn’t actually said anything. Surely she must have noticed a smell by now? Or maybe…

Before I can question the wisdom of this, I take a deep breath through my nose. Nothing. No pungent, sickly-sweet smell of mess, no sharp scent of urine, nothing. Curious, I pull back the neckline of Lilly’s dress and give my onesie a good whiff. The stench almost knocks me on my backside.

The only thing keeping me safe is a few millimeters of fabric. Good to know.

If Rainbow hasn’t smelled me yet, then maybe I can get her out before she does! All I have to do is usher her out without her realizing that I’m trying to usher her out—and I absolutely cannot allow her to get close to me! I…

But as I watch Rainbow dance around and practically worship this article of clothing I’ve made for her—this piece of clothing meant to disguise, conceal, hide a pony’s diapers—it suddenly occurs to me that I might have been making a huge mistake all this time. I don’t know why the realization chooses that particular moment to make itself apparent; perhaps in Rainbow, I see a little of myself.

I still haven’t moved from my spot near the cardboard box of useless diapers, out of irrational fear that if I do, Rainbow will “discover” my accident. Why am I so worried about that, honestly?  It isn’t the first time I’ve messed myself. It won’t even be… ugh… the last time. It begs the question, if messing is just another part of my day, why am I so afraid of it? Why am I so worried about Rainbow ‘discovering my shame’? She messes herself too, after all. Everypony in Ponyville knows it. Everypony in Ponyville knows I mess myself. And Twilight does it, and Pinkie, and…

What exactlyis my plan? To never be in a situation where somepony else might notice I’ve had an accident? By their very definition, accidents can’t be planned for or planned around. Does that mean I’m trying to do something impossible…? Certainly, whatever I'm trying to do, I've tried very hard to do it. I've barely shown my face outside all week. I haven't had a hooficure in days!

It seems obvious, on reflection, but the instant I start letting my diapers take over my life, that’s when I’m going to lose it. My freedoms, I mean, not my actual… though I wouldn’t be surprised if I do actually die of shame before all this is…

No! I refuse to think that way! If, Celestia forbid, Twilight can’t actually find a cure, I won’t spend the rest of my days locked in here with my sewing machine. I’m not going to let the chance of having an accident stop me from doing the other things I love. I can’t help it, so why should I be worried? Why should I be embarrassed? Why should I be so focused on hiding, covering up, living in fear every day? I’m not going to let my incontinence control my life. I won’t. I won’t!

Funny thing, really. Lyra understood all along.

I’m going to have to move eventually, and now seems as good a time as any. As I take my first step, I feel something soft and mushy grind into my backside, and I… I take another step, and another. Mess or no mess, wet or not, I refuse to stand here and be the victim.

I’ll simply be very straightforward. ‘Well Rainbow, it’s been a delight seeing you, but I’m afraid I really must be changing soon. Would you please excuse me?’ I’ll say, and whether she decides to stay or not, that’s none of my concern. She can have lemonade while she waits. I rehearse the lines in my head a few times, and they sound good.

“Well, Rainbow! It’s been such a delight having you here, darling, but I’m afraid—”

Rainbow suddenly goes a bit stiff and rigid, like she does whenever Pinkie nails her with her hoof buzzer. She tucks her tail between her legs, much like a dog who’s been caught doing something unpleasant. Is she messing? I quickly avert my eyes, but… no, can’t be that. There wasn’t any shiver. Wetting, perhaps? …No, her diaper remains as clean and white as before. There’s plainly something wrong, though. Rainbow reaches back and presses her hoof into the mass of padding around her rump, wincing.

“Uh, hey, Rarity?” She continues with much pausing and aversion of the eyes. “I… I sorta need a change. Now.”

“You what?” I gasp, my eyebrows vanishing into whorls of prim, curled mane. “But you’re perfectly clean.” Aren’t you?

“Well yeah, but y’know… sweat. Feels nasty, so I wanna change.”

Sweat? It would certainly account for the cleanliness of her diaper, but… that still seems odd. Surely she’s used to sweating? Maybe… Hmm. Her padding seemed awfully thick. Too thick.

Taking a gamble, I say “There’s no reason to hide it, dear. Are you wearing two at once?”

Rainbow’s hoof jerks away from her diaper and she stumbles backwards into the marrequin holding the suit. She loses her balance and flops down on her personal mountain of poof. With my ears up and alert, I hear a faint, muffled squish as rump meets with carpet, followed by an equally muffled pop!

Rainbow’s hair stands on end.

“Aw, crap…”

Her wings tremble with embarrassment, her cheeks about the same color as the red in her mane. She knows she’s caught and holds her hooves over her face, completely failing to hide her blush in any way.

“H-How’d…?”

“Relax. I’m merely curious. It won’t leave this room.”

“You swear?”

“Hoof on heart and pastry in eye,” I say, making the familiar motions to the unbreakable oath.

After a moment of scrutiny, Rainbow nods and with effort, gets back up. The big, puffy diaper swings around between her legs—with considerable weight, I note, not at all in the light, airy way a clean diaper does. Habitually, she reaches back and begins tugging at the waistline, then pauses—I nod and reassure her once again that all is well, and after a moment’s hesitation she chooses to believe me and lifts the hem of her diaper so I can see what’s hidden under it.

Of course, I can’t make out much, but I do see the faint darkened outline of a second, much smaller, thinner diaper. Thinner than mine. It sags heavily, especially around her tail; did all the gel fall down and clump up around the bottom? I’ve heard of such things happening, but never to any of my diapers, thank Celestia. No wonder she was so cranky. I’d be cranky with a diaper as full as that… ah, well, glass houses. I already had my moment of crankiness.

Rainbow lets the elastic snap back into place, and her pathetic, thin diaper is completely hidden from sight.  She refuses to look me in the eye, but that’s alright.

“Well. That’s certainly one way of going about it.” Not something I’d be able to do.

“Yup. I got the idea from Pinkie. Only thing is, she cuts slits in hers so she can use all of them. I don’t, or… well, I didn’t.” She twiddles her front hooves awkwardly, shifts around with soggy squishings. “Nopony caught on before you.”

“Like I said, hoof on heart. Rather clever of you, deception hidden in plain sight.”

“Yep, I thought so, too. Can’t have my fan club see their hero in a dirty diaper, right?” She chuckles to herself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen me and Scoots earlier. I was safe on a cloud and she was sitting down there with Applebloom and they were both talking about how great and awesome I was for not using my diaper, and I’d just taken the biggest—”

“I don’t need to know!” I shriek, stuffing my hooves in my ears. “We’re adults, not toddlers! We don’t need to announce it!”

“S-Sorry, Rare.” Rainbow’s blush deepens. “You’re right, it’s just… I dunno, it kinda feels right saying it.”

I sniff primly and give my mane a little toss back. “If it helps you cope, do what you must, but please don’t inform me. Now run along and change. You’ll find my spares on top of my boudoir.”

Rainbow murmurs a word of thanks and bolts upstairs towards my room. Once she’s out of sight, I reach up and slip Lilly’s dress over my head. I fold it neatly and set it on the bench; it’ll need to be washed before it’s ready for her. Certainly, my onesie will need washing. The faint, sickly-sweet stench of mess surrounds me like an invisible miasma, penetrating straight through the tight body-hugging fabric. When I tug at the bits around my shoulders, it pulls and I feel a warm squish in the back of my diaper. I swallow my revulsion and simply resolve not to do it again until after I’ve changed—

“Hey, Rarity?” comes the call from upstairs. “Are you really cool with me taking one?”

“Of course I am,” I call back up.

“I don’t think you are. There’s only one.”

Only one…? Only one left? No!! No, it’s not okay! It’s not! That one is mine!I need it! I…

“It’s quite alright! It’s yours!”

“Thanks Rarity!” she says without a moment’s hesitation, and the door to the bathroom slams overhead. Within ten seconds, I hear the shower running.

She wasn’t even messy, and yet she needs a shower? I suppose it’s possible there are ponies who detest wettings even more than me. Or perhaps she’d simply been in hers too long for comfort. I suppose I understand either way.

I step over to my idea corner, pick up the chalks, and scootch the chair back. I look at the chair, feel the mess in my diaper shift around slightly as my tail flicks around. Am I really about to do this? I suppose I am.

I must be crazy. Absolutely crazy.

I’m not going to make it into a big deal. Everything will work out, I know it will. In the meantime, I can do the chalks for three, four more outfits, and why should I have to do them standing up? That would be less comfortable. I should just sit down, do it, follow my own rules. I promised I wouldn’t hide anymore, remember? I won’t leak. Cleanup won’t be any worse, because I’ll just use the shower as I always have. I won’t…

But is this a different kind of hiding? I’m not convinced it’s ‘hiding’ at all. Just because I won’t hide anymore doesn’t mean I have to force myself into doing unpleasant things—

The front door to the boutique slowly creaks open behind me, and a little filly’s shadow casts itself on the wall.

“H-Hey, Rarity?”

Sweetie?

My moment of soul-searching is promptly forgotten, the chair pushed back under the desk. It is Sweetie, and she sounds more hurt and worried than I’ve heard in a long time.

“R-Rarity?”

“Right here, Sweetie.” I step out from behind the rows of marrequins and see Sweetie standing in the doorway. Her face is dirty and streaked with tears and pine sap. Her onesie has an all-too familiar bulge in the back. “Oh, Sweetie,” I murmur, softer this time.

Sweetie’s eyes brim with tears.

“We were playing and having lots of fun and then I noticed my clothes were all wet and I thought that was weird c-cause we hadn’t been around the water, and then I started leaking everywhere, an-and…”

Without thinking, I sit down and open my hooves to her. Sweetie dives in and nuzzles into my chest, sobbing, “It j-j-just started c-coming out and I couldn’t s-stop it, I couldn’t, I…”

“Shh. It’s alright.” I gently massage her back and it helps calm her down. I’ve completely forgotten to be disgusted about sitting on my heavily fertilized diaper. I have something more important to worry about now.

After a minute or two, Sweetie sighs, a great childish sigh full of all the humiliations a foal can experience in a single afternoon. “Sorry about the stink,” she mumbles. “If you… if it’s okay, I’ll just go change...” She starts pulling herself away, but I hold her tight.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Huh?”

“Firstly, I’ll be the one changing you. Second, that stink you happen to be smelling isn’t you. It’s me.”

Sweetie’s eyes grow wide. “No! You didn’t—”

“I did. Being me doesn’t make me immune to the laws of nature, you know.”

To prove my point, I shift around a bit and the diaper squelches softly under me. If it wasn’t full of what it was, it would actually be quite pleasant, I think. Like a mud bath. Positive thinking, that’s the ticket. A temporary mud bath, that’s all messing is.

Sweetie giggles and clamps her hoof over her nose.

As we collect the box of padding from the floor, she tells me the rest of the story. Apparently, The Crusaders had given up trying to get their cutie marks in continence ages ago— “Who would want a cutie mark for that?”—but Sweetie, being stubborn, found herself able to make it in time, twice, simply by virtue of already being in the bathroom when the urge hit. And without padding to yank down.

I should have known. I tricked myself into thinking the exact same thing when I was potty-training. Mother never quite got the stains out of the carpet.

We waddle upstairs together, me floating the box of Sweetie-Sized diapers behind us. “I’m surprised a single pull-up lasted as long as it did.”

“Uh, actually this is my third one.”

“Ah.”

As we reach the landing and Sweetie takes the box from me and hurries into the bedroom to prepare the changing mat and toss her onesie in the hamper, the bathroom door across the hall cracks open and Rainbow steps out amid a cloud of shower-steam. The towel is draped across her neck and her bangs and chest glisten with dampness. She grins widely at me, her fresh diaper crinkling loudly as she wags her tail. She runs up to me with toddling steps and hugs me in a very un-Rainbow like way.

“You have no idea how much I needed that, Rare.”

“Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea.” I smirk to myself as Rainbow sniffs the air. Her grip around my shoulders loosens.

“What the—?” She takes another sniff, a bigger one, and she coughs. She recoils and clamps a hoof over her nose. My onesie sags heavily, obvious for all to see. “Oh, no.” Rainbow murmurs weakly. “No… no, I-I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I—”

Her eyes shrink to pinpricks, the color drains from her face, and I’m pretty sure her wings only do that when she’s either scared out of her mind or spending the evening with Applejack. Before she has a chance to hyperventilate herself into asphyxiation, I put my hoof to her mouth.

“It happened before you went upstairs, Rainbow. Long before. I knew full well what I was doing.”

“Wh-Why? Why? Don’t tell me you’re like… like Pinkie, or—”

“I didn’t say I liked doing it, I merely did what needed to be done. I knew you wouldn’t laugh at me. I suppose I knew all along you’d never laugh. We’re in this together, after all.”

If Rainbow understands the deeper philosophy behind what I’m saying, notices Sweetie Belle stretched out waiting expectantly on the changing mat in the bedroom, remembers seeing a show of friendship similar to the one I saw this afternoon outside the Boutique’s front door, she doesn’t show it. She runs to the nearest window, sputtering “I’msorry I’msosorry I’llfixthis just hang on, okay?” and leaps through and flies off as fast as her padding will allow without ripping off and sailing gaily into the bushes.

“Rarity?” call’s Sweetie from her position on the floor. “Uh… you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” I say, wiping away a tear of happiness. Such good friends.

I change Sweetie in much the same way I changed her when she was still a really, really little filly; clean and fast, with two ticklings thrown in for good measure. I’m just taping the last tab closed when there’s a rustling of wings outside the window and Rainbow stumbles awkwardly into my bedroom, carrying another large cardboard box on her back.

“Here,” she says breathlessly, shucking the box off her back. “These are mine.”

Sweetie peeks inside, and frowns. “How come yours are all colorful?”

Rainbow and I look into the box so fast we almost knock heads. My eyes go wide. Indeed, the box is full of colorful diapers, some with prints completely covering the plastic, some with cute designs on the front taping panel. A few of them have her cutie mark on them, and some have Twilight’s, and some have Pinkie’s—I knew it!—and they’re all massive, oversized monstrosities that would be impossible to hide under Lilly’s summer dress. They make her thick Pegasus Padding look like a dishtowel.

“Bwuh—?” Rainbow does a double take and her heart leaps into her throat. That much is apparent by how she suddenly loses the ability to soliloquize. All this excitement and shock simply can’t be good for her system, so I step in to the rescue and shut the box back up.

“Rainbow doesn’t care for these plain white ones, Sweetie. They’re too medical, too boring. It’s no wonder everypony wants to cover them up.”

“Uh… y-yeah!” says Rainbow, blushing as deeply as I’ve ever seen her blush. “What she said.”

“Oh.” Sweetie scrunches her face up for a moment, then shrugs and looks back up at me. “Can I go play now? Pleaaase? It’s still an hour to dinner!”

I nod, and she vanishes down the stairway with a resounding Yaaaaay~, her diaper rustling in tandem with the clattering of her small hooves.

Hmm! I smile to myself. So, our Rainbow is a member of Pinkie and Twilight’s thickness brigade too, hmm? I suppose nothing comes as a surprise anymore.

While I’m musing, Rainbow regains enough sense to flatten her ears and bare her teeth in a show of mock tough-girl attitude, but she’s still blushing red enough to make Big Macintosh jealous.

“Rarity, I swear, if you tell anypony—”

“You’re an absolute dear, Rainbow. I knew you’d come through.” I lean over and give her a nuzzle under the cheek. Unwise, perhaps, because being close to me makes her cough, but she’ll get over it. I move over to the box and peer in. “My word, how many of these do you have?”

“Uh… enough,” Rainbow says, shrugging her wings uncertainly.

“Enough to make Pinkie jealous.” I reach into the box and pluck out an especially thick diaper with little smiling clouds on the front tape panel. Aww, so cute. I hold it up before her. “Much better than what we’ve all been wearing, hmm? In style, certainly, in size, definitely, but are they as good as the one you had on before? The small one, I mean.”

“Are you kidding? That thing’s worth ten of those wimpy little—er, I mean…” Rainbow sheepishly rubs her hoof against her leg. “...I grabbed the wrong box.”

“I can see that, and I’m very happy you did. Do they come in smaller sizes? Sweetie and her friends might like a few like these.”

“I dunno, maybe?”

“I know I might. They look comfy.”

Rainbow practically drops to her knees, begging, “Please, if anypony sees you wearing that and asks where you got it—”

“I don’t know who you are, and even if I did, I wouldn’t care one bit about what you do in your spare time.” I lightly boop her on the nose with the diaper. “I expect no less from you, naturally.”

Rainbow grins weakly from on the floor. “Thanks, Rarity.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, if you like. I could even call up Applejack, see if she’d like to join us?”

“Yeah, that sounds great! Just—ehhm!” She flaps her wings, but even that’s not enough to clear the air. I take the hint and duck into the bathroom. “It’s just, I’m going to a sleepover later tonight with Pinkie and Twi. That’s no problem, right?”

“Not at all. I hope you have fun,” I say with a wink. Then a thought occurs to me, and I turn around and grab the door just before it shuts. “Speaking of plans, I’m thinking of throwing a picnic tomorrow at the park. No dresses allowed. I’ll ask Applejack tonight myself, of course, but can you ask Pinkie and Twilight if they’d like to join us, too?”

“No dresses allowed?”

“It’s for the best. We’re sure to be stuck in these things for a long, long while, so I think we should learn how to wear them openly all the time. Don’t you agree?”

“I—wait, what?” Rainbow frowns and her mouth opens slightly with confusion. “But you hate wearing diapers, right?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you do, too. Don’t you think you’d be happier if you stopped wearing those dreadful flimsy ones and used these instead?” I rub the supremely fluffy diaper against my cheek, purring. “I’d be jealous if I liked them the way you do. You could probably have one or two accidents in this, and nopony would ever know.”

“I don’t wanna risk it,” Dash argues halfheartedly. “If anypony out there see me using them—it’s like, it’s different out here, y’know?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“You and Pinkie and Twilight aren’t the only ones wearing them anymore.” I twist my lip and frown. “Everypony knows you use your diapers. Everypony knows I use mine. Who cares if anypony sees you wearing a bigger, prettier one, or sees you using it? I’d say you should be yourself. Be the strong pony, shameless in all ways, the epitome of cool. Rainbow Dash shouldn’t be embarrassed by something she likes. Don’t you agree?”

“Well… yeah.” Rainbow nods slowly. “Yeah. I shouldn’t be.”

“Then act like it. No more hiding, Rainbow. From either of us.”

I let the door swing shut, leaving her considering new and liberating possibilities. The sound of running water fills the hallway.