Author's Note
DISCLAIMER: Do not continue reading if you do not approve of diaper lover themes, public exposure, or diaper usage. If you do not like it or are under legal age, please do not keep reading.
Please do not redistribute, alter, repost this story or anything else I write on this site or anyplace else without my permission.
This Story Contains
Adult Baby Themes (Heavy)
Diaper Lover Themes (Heavy)
Diaper Usage - Wet (Heavy)
Diapers (Heavy)
FemDom (Heavy)
Cross Dressing (Medium)
Cunnilingus (Medium)
Diaper Usage - Mess (Medium)
Humiliation (Medium)
Male/Female (Medium)
Public Exposure (Medium)
Bondage (Light)
Spanking (Light)
Chapter One
Big Apple Fashion Show
By Scribe Feather
✶✶Chapter One✶✶
It was a colorful day of autumn in Ponyville, one that most would say was one of the liveliest. Everything that was expected to go right with the weather went right this year, leaving behind a vibrant palette of leaves that painted the many trees with lovely browns and oranges and reds. The town had blossomed into scenic painting of fall, an artistic inspiration to many.
For Rarity, the season was a fondly remembered time of the year. She found the autumn colors inspired the most out of her creative projects. The vibrant atmosphere sparked so many ideas and so many designs she eagerly waited to make. In a way she tried to capture the brilliant hues of the season in the dresses and clothes she made, hoping to do such rich colors justice.
And with the inspiring season, came a whole mess of ideas. Hundreds of projects and designs popped in the creative unicorn’s head and she was eager enough to try some of them out. This, of course, required more supplies and fabrics to work into her various suits and skirts and hats. She was prompt into ordering plenty of material to work with, but little did she know, she’d overorder in her haste.
This became apparent when she finally came down to the ground floor of the Carousel Boutique one day and was greeted with a room filled to the brim with boxes and crates. Supplies for crafting and outfits for shipping, there was hardly any wiggle room in the area, save for a small, thin path that she had carefully cut through the maze. In her creative haste, she had never thought she’d order so much nor that it’d all clash at the same time.
It went without saying that having dozens of large wooden crates filling up the Carousel Boutique made traveling through the showroom difficult. Rarity had done her best to organize and neatly stack the various crates, moving all those heavy boxes took a lot of effort for the dainty unicorn, she even risked messing up her hair pushing one of them off to the side. Such heavy lifting was a job for somepony else.
She had just finished pushing one of the lighter crates against a wall when there was a knock at the door. “Coming! Coming! Just one moment!” The white unicorn called out to her visitor. It took her another five minutes or so to navigate through the maze of boxes that congested her beloved store. Luckily the one waiting at her door was patient.
When she finally did reach the front door, she opened it up gracefully, revealing a tall red stallion waiting on her stoop. He was a muscler earth pony with an unfathomable work ethic that got the job done. Such commitment was all the reassurance Rarity needed to hire the farmboy for the afternoon.
“G’day, Miss Rarity,” Big Macintosh bowed his head politely, “ah heard you needed some heavy crates moved ‘round?”
“Not a moment too soon, Macintosh,” Rarity replied with a relieved sigh, “I have a new shipment of fabrics coming in tomorrow and I haven’t the space for such an order. I need plenty of space to work, you see.”
The big stallion nodded, “jus’ show me what needs liftin’.”
Big Macintosh was eager to please such a pretty lady like Rarity. It was only proper for an able bodied stallion to help out with the heavy lifting that the petite mare would never do herself. His upbringing told him that it was just the right thing to do.
“Right then,” Rarity started, tapping her chin as she examined the various crates that filled her boutique. “The ones with labels can go into the basement. Won’t be needing those for a little bit. Ones with no labels can be carried up to my workroom. I’ll try to empty some of the boxes so you have less to worry about.”
The big stallion just nodded and went right to work. The crates were hardly a challenge for the big stallion, mostly consisting of fabrics and folded clothes, at least that’s what Macintosh assumed based on the weight. He took to the honest hard work with stride, carrying the cargo wherever Miss Rarity needed it.
Rarity scurried off to her workroom on the second floor, occasionally popping down to grab a few small items out of the various crates. She had been struck with autumnal inspiration and she had to act on it before it was lost. Usually she extracted nothing more than a roll of fabric or a dress in need of tailoring, but Macintosh politely waited for the mare to grab whatever she needed before he carried the box off to its destination. His toughest task was carrying the boxes down to the Boutique basement which connected to the ground floor via a curved, sort of steep stone staircase.
The basement of the Boutique was nothing quite like the glamorous and fashionable showroom that dominated the ground floor. It certainly had a womanly touch, but the ample supply of boxes and storage bins made the place look rather crowded. Already dozens of boxes sat in neatly organized stacks, each one meticulously documented by Rarity. The outsides of all the crates were unmarked, save for some vague shipping information taped to their sides as well as some obscure numbers and abbreviations Rarity likely used as shorthand for her records.
It wasn’t Macintosh’s place to pry, but if he were to guess the boxes most likely contained bulk orders that Rarity had made ahead of time in preparation of a big event. That, along with excess fabrics that she didn’t need right at that moment and extra sewing supplies were likely what filled up all these boxes. And that was enough to settle most of the big stallion’s natural curiosity. At least for that moment.
By the tenth crate carried down into the basement, Big Mac was starting to slow down. Carefully guiding the boxes down the steps while also pausing to allow Rarity to pull whatever she needed out of the crate was taxing for the big stallion and before long he had grown rather tired. But he certainly wasn’t going to take a break now, not when there was more than enough work yet to be done.
Undeterred by a momentary sweat, Macintosh quickly returned to the basement with yet another crate. And then another. A task that was shakily handled by the fatigued stallion. After this crate, he promised himself, he’d take a break.
However, he underestimated himself and quickly found that he bit off a little more than he could chew. Before he knew it, the box was slipping off his back and falling to the ground just as he was stepping off the final steps on the staircase. The box tumbled a bit, noisily scratching against the hard floor. The lid, only loosely held there by small nails popped open in the fall, causing the box’s contents to pour out. There was nothing that could staved Macintosh’s curiosity now.
The contents of the box, oddly enough, consisted of baby clothes, all neatly folded in stacks. At least, they initially looked like baby clothes. The outfits were definitely stylized to match an infantile esthetic, but what Macintosh found strange was that they came in sizes big enough to fit even his large body size. The clothes varied from onesies and cute little sailor suits to printed sun dresses and frilly princess gowns. A well stocked inventory of oversized baby clothes.
Macintosh was puzzled by this discovery. His job fell to the wayside as he picked up one of the outfits off the ground. It was a pink onesie, frilly around the backside as well as the sleeves. It looked like something Applebloom would have been dressed in when she was a foal, but much like everything else, was big enough to fit him. And that simultaneously perplexed him and perked his curiosity.
He could remember the days when Applebloom was just a foal. Granny Smith and Applejack were always dressing her up in these frilly things. He could distinctly remember seeing his baby sister toddling around in pink dresses and things with so many frills on them. And she was too young to really put up much of a fuss. As she got older though, she started to get crabby if they even considered putting her in the girly outfits. He smirked at the silly memories.
Suddenly the onesie he held began to glow a light blue, breaking Macintosh’s concentration. It floated out of his hooves and folded itself back into a neat little square.
“Please do be careful, Macintosh,” Rarity was heard plainly stating, appearing behind the stallion with her horn glowing. She lifted the various onesies, overalls, and panties and folded them all back into the crate. The box’s lid was then closed back up before she continued, “I don’t want any of my inventory ripped or scuffed.”
Big Macintosh was quick to nod, shaking his daydreaming thoughts out of his head. “Won’t happen again, Miss Rarity,” he answered, bowing his head apologetically.
“You’ve been working very hard so far,” “why don’t you take a break and I’ll get you some cold cider to cool you down.”
“‘Preciate it, Miss Rarity!” Maicntosh answered, placing the scuffed up crate down next to the rest of them, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow.
A tiny breather and the cold cider was just the break Macintosh needed. Rarity even offered some fancy luxury tea biscuits as a snack and he was just too polite to say no. The dry biscuits certainly didn’t go well with cider, but their sugary and delicate texture was a tiny adventure for the farmhand’s senses. He almost never ate such intricately flavored things, tasting some exotic spices he never even knew existed.
After only that little pause, he was reinvigorated and ready to get the rest of the crates moved. There was quite a bit of work to be done after all. By early afternoon, he had gotten most of the boxes moved. Some crates were carried into storage while others were carried into Rarity’s workshop where she was sure to thank the stallion for all his hard work. Quickly and efficiently he had emptied the ground floor of the Boutique and was down to his last couple boxes.
He carried one of the crates down to the basement, ready to stack it with the rest of it’s friends with the same colored sticker. He gently plopped it to the ground, taking this time to wipe some sweat off his brow. In that time he noted that it had the same shipping information as the one he dropped earlier. It lacked any other markings save for a label that read “Sound Cirrus Company, Ponyville Distribution Center”.
And that just perked Macintosh’s curiosity even more. He had never heard of such a company, but it didn’t really sound like someplace that Rarity would get supplies from. Perhaps it was a shipping company that dealt in large dress orders. Maybe it was just a fancy name for a fabric distributor. After spending the better half of the morning moving all these obscure boxes from place to place, his curiosity had been mounting.
Without Rarity there to interfere, Big Macintosh’s desire to investigate got the better of him and he pressed on with his little exploration. He loosened the nails of the wooden crate and opened it’s heavy wooden lid to peek inside.
The contents of the container caught the stallion completely off guard. Stacked neatly inside were numerous diapers, all organized into stacks of similar designs. They all came in packs of twenty or so, neatly wrapped in clear plastic. Much like the baby clothes from before, these diapers were big enough to fit adult ponies.
On the very top of the diaper stacks sat a few loose diapers, likely demonstration stock so that customers knew what they were getting. Macintosh picked one of them up for closer inspection.
The diaper was thick, that was certain, and likely very absorbent. Despite its adult size, the garment had a childish print of little hearts dotting its white surface. At a glance, it would almost pass off as a real baby diaper.
Suddenly the wooden lid snapped shut making Macintosh jump with a gasp. The nails glowed blue and magically burrowed themselves into the wood, sealing the box’s contents once again. He took a startled step back, dropping the diaper to the floor as his feet scrambled.
“Couldn’t keep your eyes off my private property, I see,” Rarity glared from across the room.
“S-sorry, Miss Rarity,” Macintosh stammered out, “Ah didn’ mean to intrude.”
Rarity’s horn glowed again as she snatched the heart printed diaper off the ground. “Well intrude you did,” Rarity tapped a hoof as she whipped off some dust that had clung to the diaper, “might get you into trouble poking around at other ponies’ private business.”
Macintosh felt it was only right to apologize. “Really sorry ‘bout that, Miss Rarity. Ah really am-”
“You should know better,” Rarity snapped back, almost acquiring a bit of a motherly tone to her voice, “only a child would disrespect another pony’s privacy like that.” she tapped her hoof some more, “...a child in need of serious discipline if he’s ever going to learn.”
Big Macintosh quietly gulped. An uneasy chill running down his spine. Did she say ‘discipline’?
