The day was bright and sunny, only a few clouds dotting the sky. The small group of ponies trotted into the quaint town, each carrying well stuffed saddlebags. Their hooves clacked on the cobblestone road running through the center of town, one of the ponies turning to another. “Well, we’ve made it to the town, you know where the inn is?” He asked.

The unicorn waved her hoof a little, rolling her eyes. “Of course, High Bar, I wouldn’t be the one leading us if I didn’t know where we were going.” She looked over to him, smiling a bit smugly. “Besides, considering how often you’ve been looking at my flanks I’d have thought you’d notice my cutie-mark by now.” She shook her hips a bit, showing off her compass marking. High Bar blushed, looking away from Compass.

“Why do we need an inn, anyway? I thought the whole point of a camping trip was to, y’know, camp.” An earth pony with a few flowers on her flanks asked, looking up at the sunny sky as they wandered through the town.

Compass shrugged, turning a corner, the other following. “I dunno, it was Myth’s idea. Something about town history. Besides, Cloud said there was supposed to be a storm scheduled this weekend too, so it’d be good to have a place to stop if it’s too bad to stay at the campsite.”

Myth looked up at the mention of his name, tearing his eyes away from a few scribbled notes. “What? The inn? Yeah, you can’t walk through an old pioneer town without seeing the sights! Besides, there’s supposed to be some neat history behind the Puffy Dragon too, it’ll be cool!”

Another stallion tried to stifle a chuckle, failing and receiving a small glare from Myth Maker. “The Puffy Dragon? That’s what it’s called? Sheesh, I know old ponies had weird ideas of what made good names, but…” He shook his head, still grinning.

“You know as well as I do, Clef, that three months ago you stayed in the Whinny Winks inn while at a symposium,” Myth replied severely. “In any case-”

“Inn, heh,” the flower-marked Earth Pony said. “I like it.”

“That wasn't intended to be a pun,” Myth Maker said. “But I'll take it. Anyway – you know as well as anypony else that if there's a good story behind this place, I'll find it.”

“Yeah, but that means hours of research, right?” asked Double Clef.

“Not if I can help it.”

They turned another corner, and saw the inn right before them.

“Ta-da,” Compass said, her horn-glow fading. “You have reached your destination.”

The party of holidaymakers looked at the inn.

“That's an odd-looking sign,” Violet said. “What even is it?”

“One presumes it's a puffy dragon,” Myth answered, examining it. “See, there's the neck, and the tail. No wings, which is interesting, but some very impressive ridges.”

“Who would have a dragon without wings?” Cloudy Skies asked. “Isn't part of the point of dragons that they can fly?”

Myth shrugged. “Ask me again at the end of the week.”

He trotted up to the front door, the others following, and knocked – which merely made the door open a little way, as it wasn't locked.

Myth pushed the door fully open, taking a step in and looking around. The room was just about what he had expected. A few puffy chairs sat in the cozy lobby, each sitting on opposite sides of a fireplace. Another table sat in the middle, a few books sitting on the table. On the other side of the room sat a small desk where another pony sat, smiling as she spotted the group walk in. “Oh, hello! I wasn’t expecting this big of a group. What can I do for you?” The pony asked.

“Well, we’re just staying around for a little while, wanted to check the place out,” Clef responded.

The pony nodded, pointing over to the chairs at the fireplace. “Well, make yourselves comfortable! We’ve got plenty of reading on town folklore if you’re interested.”

Myth perked up, immediately hurrying over to pick up one of the books on the table. Violet couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at Myth’s enthusiasm as he began to page through the information.

“Anything you can tell us about the town? We’re planning on camping up in the hills nearby.” High Bar asked. The clerk looked surprised, only to giggle and give a knowing wink.

“Oooh, up in the hills? Well, better keep an eye out for any mischievous drakes. They do tend to come out this time of year.” She joked. Clef raised an eyebrow, but the pony just tapped her muzzle, winking again.

“Would you mind if I borrowed this book? It’s got everything I need!” Myth said, grinning widely. The clerk nodded, motioning for him to come over and sign a small card as the others looked between each other. She wasn’t serious about dragons being a problem, was she?

Shrugging, Clef trotted over to one of the chairs and sat down – making the fabric let out a faint wheeze as air hissed out of it – then groaned.

“Oh, wow... I forgot how far we've walked today...”

“You could have flown,” Compass pointed out.

“Yeah, but that would have been worse,” the composer said. “Walking is fine, flying long distances is fine. Hovering overhead for hours on end? My wings would never forgive me.”

“Looks pretty cozy,” Violet said, and prodded the fabric. “And feels it.”

“Let's see...” Myth began, starting on the book. “Hey, Compass – how far is it to the campsite?”

Compass lit her horn. “Let's see... search for the best nearby campsite...”

Her magic flickered for a moment, then stabilized.

“About an hour's walk,” she said. “And quite a lot of that is uphill.”

“Really?” Violet asked. “Maybe we should eat here, then – it's not all that long until dinner.”

“I'd rather eat out in the field, otherwise it's not really a camping trip,” High Bar volunteered. “We've got everything we need.”

Clef just groaned again. “More walking?”

He shook his head. “You guys can go ahead. I think I'm going to have a nice bath to rest my hooves, and then come out to join you tomorrow.”

“Really?” Bar said. “Really? First night of the camping trip and you're going to stay at the inn?”

“Actually, a bath does sound good,” Cloudy said. “I know you other pony types are fine with just trotting everywhere, but we're really not used to that much walking.”

High Bar just rolled his eyes, waving his hoof dismissively. “Fine, wimps.” He said, smiling a bit afterwards. Cloud stuck her tongue out playfully trotting over to rest on the chair opposite Clef’s. “Alright, we’ll see you guys tomorrow then. Just don’t spend all day here, or we’re not going to have any time to actually go hiking and swimming and stuff!”

“We’ll be there first thing in the morning.” Cloud reassured High Bar. The others turned to head out the door, Myth scribbling down his name on the card for the clerk before hurrying after them. The clerk turned around, picking a key off a rack behind her.

“Here’s your room key, second floor. Sorry for the climb.” She said sweetly. Clef picked himself up out of the chair, which almost seemed to suck back a bit of air as he did. ‘Must be old fabric’, he thought, taking the key and leading Cloud up to their hotel room. The lock clicked satisfyingly as Clef pushed the key into the hole, opening the door to reveal a cozy little room. Two bed fit with plush comforters and pillows sat opposite a wardrobe and mirror, both ponies letting out a soft sigh at the sight of the comfy room. Trotting in, Clef flopped down on the bed, relaxing into the puffy mattress.

“Oh man, this is soooo good! I don’t think I’m going to move again!” He said. Cloud Chaser laughed, setting down her loaded saddlebags and walked over to a small chair in the corner, picking up a book resting on the wardrobe and beginning to read.

Meanwhile, the others were huffing a bit as they trotted up the hills, Compass’s horn glowing as she directed them towards the campsite. “Are we theeeere yet?” Violet complained, shaking her hooves a bit to try and relieve some of the ache in them.

“We’re only halfway there, it’s still going to be a while.” Compass responded. Everypony let out a groan, Myth Maker stumbling a bit over a rock as he was absorbed in his book. “At least it’s not that hard. Like, this barely even feels like an actual mountain, it’s pretty gradual.”

“I'm having second thoughts about the inn thing,” Bar muttered. “But we can't go back now, we'd look silly and stuff.”

“You and your big mouth,” Compass chided. “At least it's on top of a hill, so we'll still have good light.”

She paused, pushing a hoof experimentally into the ground. “Oh, that's nice – I've walked along paths like this before.”

“Like what?” Myth said, looking up from his book for a moment.

“Springy like this,” Compass explained. “There was one on the Isle of A-Ram, a year or two back. It's actually nicer on the hooves than just rigid ground, so count yourselves lucky.”

With that, she got going again, and the rest followed – trotting uphill, with the unicorn's light to guide them.

When they reached the campsite, it was a cause for weary celebration.

“That was never an hour,” Bar protested. “That has to have been more.”

“My spell is always accurate,” Compass replied. “It's just sometimes ponies which are wrong. Okay, who's got the cooking equipment?”

“That's me,” Violet replied, shrugging off her saddlebags. “If somepony can set up the tents, I'll start cooking us something with rice and carnations.”

Myth Maker looked up again. “Carnations? Any special significance of that?”

“Flower arranging,” Violet answered him. “My talent is arranging flowers, and cooking counts if there's flowers in it.”

“You'd think she hadn't told us six times this trip already,” Bar muttered to Compass.

Myth maker closed his book, picking out some of the posts for the tent from his saddlebags. Clicking them together, he pressed it down into the ground, finding it to be resisting a bit more than he had expected. He lost his grip on the poles, watching as it bounced back up, clattering to the ground. “Jeez, I thought you said this ground wasn’t tough.” Myth said. “I think I’m just going to have to secure them with a glue spell.” He picked the poles back up in his magic, his horn pulsing a bit as he glued them to the ground.

With the issue of stability fixed, it wasn’t too long before the tents were set up and the four ponies were gathered around the campfire, each munching away at the food Violet had cooked. “Mmmfff, ooh, that hits the spot.” High Bar said, leaning back on the log they had pulled over for a seat.

“See? I told you I could cook.” Violet said, taking another bite. The sky was beginning to grow dark, the sun peeking over the horizon above the town. The group sat in relative silence for a moment, finishing off their meals and setting aside their plates. “Well, what now? We’ve still got a couple hours before bedtime, and I’m not exactly ready to go hiking again.”

“What was in that book, Myth? You had your muzzle in it pretty much all day.” Compass asked, looking over to the unicorn. Myth pulled the book back out, flipping through the pages.

“Oh, just some general information about the town. I found a little story that’s supposed to explain the name of the Inn, let me see if I can find it again…” He flipped a few more pages, before stopping in the middle of the book. “Here we go. Alright, let’s see…”

“Long ago, when the town of Sorraria was just a few ponies in cabins, there was an old stallion, a grumpy stallion who hated just about everything to do with tunes and music. No matter what instrument, genre, or tempo, he hated every last bit…”

“Yeah, we get the idea,” Bar heckled.

“I'm trying to tell it the way it's in the book,” Myth reminded him. “Anyway... he was so angry about this, so annoyed, that he tried to completely stamp out music in the town. Any time somepony was playing an instrument, or even just whistling out a tune or tapping their hoof in time, he was there to tell them off. To glare, and leer, and cough, until the pony would stop just to make him go away.”

Myth turned the page. “And he spent three long years doing this, until not a peep or a parp was heard around the whole town. And everypony was sad, except the stallion, who was glad to have total quiet. Until...”

The others went a little quiet, drawn in a bit by Myth Maker's telling.

“Until he heard a faint tune one day, a cheerful and jaunty tune. He got up, out of his chair, and came down the steps from his cabin to see who was making the noise – but no matter who he looked in on, how many doors he knocked on or windows he listened at, he couldn't find the source of the sound he so despised.”

“All day he galloped back and forth, trying to find that last pony who was willing to play music in the town, but he couldn't find them – when he tried to see where the music was loudest, he found it just got louder every direction he went, and it didn't get quieter again no matter what he tried.”

“He ran all over town, grumbling and barking at everypony he met. Worst of all, it seemed like everypony else was acting like they didn’t hear the music! They were all trying to trick him into giving up his search. Then he realized that if it wasn’t somepony in town that was making the music, it had to be somepony out of town! But who?”

“The pony began to march out of town towards the hills, the music growing louder. He was sure that what was making this music was up in the mountains, it just had to be! He began to climb, and the sun began to sink. The sky grew dark, and the music grew louder, whistling through the trees…”

As if in response, wind whipped through the air, causing High Bar and Compass to jump a bit, scooting a bit closer to each other. Myth returned to the story, grinning a bit at the other’s response to his storytelling. “The music grew louder and louder, the pony growing more annoyed at the constant, jolly tune. But as he trotted up the hill, he started to feel… worried. Something felt wrong about what was going on. It was almost as if somepony was… whispering to him, through the song. As if it knew just what bothered him so much, and was trying to stop his music stomping rampage!”

“Then, all of a sudden, he saw something through the trees,” Myth Maker went on, his voice growing hushed. “He didn't know what it was, not in the dim light of the evening, but he could see how it was moving – moving with the beat of the music, as it got louder and louder. And he knew he should turn back – but that would mean giving up.”

The unicorn lowered his voice still further, as Violet looked nervously into the trees around their campsite – looking for something moving like Myth Maker was describing.

“So he burst through the trees, and he began to tell whoever-it-was to stop their music – but before he could finish speaking, his knees began to knock and his voice began to break. Because standing there was a huge, fearsome dragon.”

Myth let the silence stretch, then finished. “And nopony saw that grumpy stallion ever again.”

Bar gasped, then blinked.

“Wait,” he said. “That's not a proper ending! The story's full of plot holes!”

He tried to stamp a hoof on the floor, but all that did was make his hoof bounce. “How did anypony tell this story? If somepony was following him out of town, maybe they could tell this, but then they'd have seen what happened to him!”

Compass tried not to laugh.

Myth Maker looked a bit pouty, snapping the book closed and stowing it back in his saddlebags. “Oh, party pooper. You’re not supposed to think that much about these kinds of stories. They’re just old fun. The stallion probably came running back into town yelling about a dragon and stopped pestering ponies after that, so everypony forgot about him.” Myth Maker bounced his hooves a bit on the ground, feeling its springiness. “That, and the natural softness of the ground, it probably wasn’t hard to make up a name like the Puffy Dragon Inn. Old folklore tends to change like that.”

Violet looked back up at the sky, noticing how it was already much darker out. “Well, whatever the reason, we should probably get ready for bed. We’ll want to get up early so we can see the sunrise at the hilltops.” She picked up a bucket of water, dousing the fire she had used to cook dinner. The others nodded, moving towards their tents. Violet and Compass climbed into their tent as High Bar and Myth Maker did the same. Violet unzipped her sleeping bag, slipping into it as Compass fluffed up her pillow. The ground was surprisingly soft. With their sleeping bags, it was almost like sleeping on a very comfy air mattress. Violet nuzzled her pillow, yawning as she began to doze off.

In the stallions’ tent, High Bar and Myth Maker were slipping into their own sleeping bags. “You really think that story’s fake?” High Bar asked, seeming a little less confident than he had around the fire. Myth shrugged, leaning back into his pillow.

“Probably, but there’s always a bit of truth to a story. It’s just some fun, and you said yourself that it sounded fake.” He teased, rolling over in his sleeping bag. High Bar nodded, laying down and closing his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he could almost swear he heard the wind whip around their tent, carrying something along in the air.

‘Puuuuuuuuuffff~’

The earth pony stallion drowsed, breathing in and out with deep and even breaths. He wasn't quite asleep and he wasn't quite awake, but somewhere in between.

'Puuuuuuuuuuuffffff...'

And with every breath he took in, and every breath he let out, he heard a soft hiss – almost like his own breath, but not quite.

'Puuuuuuuuuuuufffffff...'

It was so easy to just relax, and listen...

'Puuuuuuuuuuuuffffffff...'

“Puuffff...” he repeated, eyelids fluttering. “Puuuffff...”

It was the trembling of the ground that woke Myth.

“Huh?” he asked, muzzily – not yet fully awake. “Whassat?”

He looked to one side, and saw Bar's bed was empty. “What the-”

Paa~aarp! Came a sound from outside, in time with another one of the little tremors of the ground.

Myth Maker struggled out of his sleeping bag, hearing the mares in the other tent getting up as well, and hurried out of the door of his tent – blinking to try and see in the dim light, well after sundown.

What he saw made him stare – High Bar, bouncing up and down on the ground in a series of big, almost floating jumps, and producing an airy paaaarp sound every time he landed.

“What's going on?” Violet asked. “High Bar? Why are you doing that?”

High Bar didn’t answer at first, bouncing a few more times on the ground. He landed on his rear, sinking much further into the ground than anypony would have thought possible before being launched back up into the air. “Practicing!” He said eventually, jumping a few more times, each landing causing another strange parp-y sound.

“Practicing? For what? Now’s not the time for your gymnastic routine!” Myth Maker responded, trotting closer to High Bar. The stallion didn’t seem to notice, just continually bouncing about. Myth Maker almost heard what sounded like a soft whisper of ‘puuuuuff’ from High Bar. Myth’s horn flared up as he grabbed High Bar’s tail, causing him to snap back to the ground and land with another ‘parp’.

“Hey, I was having fun!” High Bar said, looking up Myth Maker, upset. Myth Maker was looking very confused, glancing over to Compass and Violet.

“Are you feeling alright, Bar?” Compass asked, trotting over to him. He nodded, grinning widely as he bounce in place on the ground.

“Hehehe, ooh, very much! I’ve just got this wonderful bouncy tune in my head, I couldn’t just sleep! I had to just, well, bounce!” He giggled, rocking back and forth on the ground again.

“Myth, I think we need to head home, I think something’s wrong with High Bar.” Compass said, her horn lighting up. Myth Maker nodded, helping High Bar up onto his hooves, though he couldn’t stop him from bouncing along as they tried to trot away from the site. Wind whipped around them faster, blowing their manes around as thunder rumbled above.

“I don't like this,” Compass muttered, as the ground trembled below them with the crash of the thunder. “There's something wrong here.”

“Yeah, High Bar,” Myth Maker said.

“No, more than that,” Compass replied.

High Bar bounced again, and a ripple spread out through the ground. Then there was a flash of lightning, and Violet gasped.

“Look!” she shouted, pointing into a nearby copse of trees.

There was another flash, and they saw a silhouette outlined in the darkness – a bipedal, reptilian shape, with the suggestion of claws.

“Run!” Violet called, turning on her heels and galloping away – remembering the story Myth had been telling just a couple of hours ago. The male unicorn followed her, a little slower, and Compass scowled.

“This way!” she called, trying to get their attention. “I'm the one who can use magic to tell where to – oh, come on!”

Turning to High Bar, she fixed him with a glare. “Wait. Here.”

Without waiting for him to confirm, she galloped off after the others.

High Bar watched her go, bouncing gently, and smiling at the 'puuuffffff...' sound which he could hear every time he hit the ground.

After a few bounces, he was unsure what he'd been told to do.

A few more, and he didn't especially care.

Then he turned, looked at the shape visible in the trees whenever there was a lightning flash, and decided to head over to meet them.

As he did, he bounced higher and higher – sure nothing could go badly when he felt like this!

Compass was just close enough to see Myth Maker duck into a cave, with no sign of Violet nearby. Sighing, she decided the Earth Pony was probably in the cave as well, and followed at a fast canter.

“Guys, what are you doing?” She shouted after them, hurrying into the cave. She gave a grunt of frustration, finding the two huddled together behind several stalagmites. “We’re going to get lost if you guys don’t follow me! Come on, we need to get back to High Bar before he gets lost too!” Compass turned around to lead the others out of the cave, only to stop as she noticed how soft the ground was. Even softer than outside, which made Compass very confused. Her horn faded for a moment as she shifted on the ground. She looked back around the cave, noticing just how even the stalagmites were spaced and their height. Compass’s heart began to beat a bit faster as she looked upwards, spotting matching stalactites upon the roof of the cave. “Oh my Celestia…” Compass’s voice died as the ground beneath her shifted. “Guys! Run!” She shouted, rushing for the exit.

As she tried to dart of the cave, the ground curled up, pulling up in front of her. Myth Maker and Violet turned around, watching as the... tongue... knocked Compass off of her hooves, flopping her to the floor. Suddenly air began to rush into the cave, what sounded like a note starting to play. Compass pawed at the tongue, trying to pick herself up as the air grew stronger and stronger. “Heeeeeeeeelp!” Compass shouted, flying backwards as the cave suddenly snapped shut, a contented gulp and laugh filling the air, along with a long paaaarpy puuuuuuuff.

Violet and Myth Maker let out a scream as they huddled together, the cave, or rather, the mouth curled up into a grin. The wind continued to rush around, sounding like a haunting, yet bouncy and energetic tune was whispering to them. Immediately, the two turned around and began to run away from the cave, their mind racing with images invoked by the story Myth had read from the book. They hurried down the hill, trying to make their way back towards the town, having completely forgotten about High Bar in their panic.

As they ran, they spotted a trail running through the trees and made a beeline towards it. They ran along the trail, but found themselves stumbling as they did. The tune around them was growing louder, and it was almost as if the trail was even puffier than the ground had been at the top of the hill. Suddenly they found themselves almost running headlong into a tree in the middle of the trail. The ponies skidded to a stop, staring at the tree in front of them. But as they stared, they noticed the tree was especially smooth, and almost shiny. The song was even louder, and suddenly the tree shifted, tilting to reveal a few holes on one side, the tune playing out of the enormous pipe.

Violet ‘eeep’ed, and began to sprint away, Myth attempting to keep his pace after her.

“What on Equestria is going on?” Myth panted. “I didn't think... we would actually meet the monster...”

“Shut up and run!” Violet yelped, running along the path as the only clear route through the trees – until they ran into another pipe-tree.

“What do we do?” she asked, looking around in panic.

“This way!” Myth replied, heading for the treeline, and Violet followed him – fast enough that she was soon the one in the lead, galloping through the close trees.

Then there was a paaaarp sound ahead of them.

“It's in front of us!” Myth cried, turning about a fifty-degree angle and heading off to the side. That only worked for a moment, however, as another paaaarp answered the first one – this one from in front of their new path.

The music was rising, incorporating the solo oom-pas and paarps and glissando melodies coming from whatever was in the woods.

“They're to our right, and in front of us,” Myth said, thinking. “And behind us. We'll have to go left.”

He and Violet ran to their left, their pace spurred by the sounds coming from behind them, and for a moment it seemed like they were getting away – the sounds falling away behind them, the music still getting louder but the individual sounds that made it up becoming further away.

Then a shape burst out from behind a fallen log, right in their path – and too close for Violet to avoid running practically into it.

The figure was rather soft, puffy in fact! Violet felt arms wrap around her and squeeze her into the puffy form of the figure, the individual parts of the music returning, louder than ever. “Myth, hel-fff!” Violet’s shout was muffled as her face was pushed into the form, which shifted beneath her. Despite the darkness, with her face pressed right up into the figure, Violet was able to make out some form of pattern to the figure. Something intricate and crisscrossed. Something brightly colored, and plaid.

Myth only barely avoided colliding with Violet, looking up as the figure squeezed her. Myth tried to grab Violet, but with another puff, the figure vanished along with the earth pony. Panicking, Myth looked around the woods, the song playing around him louder and louder. More figures suddenly puffed up in the distance, bouncing towards him as their parts of the song played. Turning tail, Myth sprinted away, and suddenly found himself back at the campsite. The music was all around, and he was trying to cover his ears to think straight. There had to be something he could do, something to save his friends! His eyes went wide as remembered the book he had, and dashed towards his tent. Rummaging around he quickly produced the text and began to flip hurriedly through it.

He found a passage, a strange circular design printed on it. ‘Someponies say this symbol can be used to ward off the dragon of the hills, but few have shown its effectiveness.’ Myth grabbed a stick, unable to think of any other options. He began to run through the campsite, drawing the design and trying to force the music from his mind.

His horn glowed as he wrote in the dirt, drawing trails of light which clung to the bouncy surface of the hill and formed a pattern – one large circle, then a series of lines crossing it. Thick lines making a grid, then thin lines both sides of each thick line.

Myth Maker completed the pattern as the bouncy critters got closer and closer, and then galloped to the centre and powered it up.

He had to concentrate, focus on the design and on what it did! He had to shut out the music, shut out the dragon – but every time his horn pulsed, the music got louder and more distracting and harder to ignore.

The unicorn poured his magic into the symbol, involuntarily pulsing it in time with the music as his ability to concentrate waxed and waned. The design glowed brighter and brighter as the music got louder and more persistent-

-then, suddenly, the design flashed once and began to peel up from the hillside.

Myth watched it as it peeled up around the edges, suddenly uncertain. Was it going to form a three-dimensional shield around him, to physically block out the dragon? Or was it going to-

-then it moved, with startling suddenness, collapsing in around him like a net of crosshatched lines, and focused on his rear.

The glow lit up the hillside, then faded – replaced by the light of the moon and the stars, with the storm having apparently vanished completely.

Myth looked back, and did a double-take. The design had turned into a puffy diaper around his rump, complete with... plaid... lines...

“That's what the grid was?” he asked, startled.

Myth Maker was stunned, staring at his diaper with his mouth agape. He was drawn back to reality as the music peaked again, sending a shiver down his spine and resting in his padding. Slowly, steadily, the diaper began to pulse along with the music, growing thicker and thicker. Myth yelped, tugging on the diaper in an attempt to remove it, but no matter how much he pulled and prodded, the plaid puffy padding refused to budge. The music was swelling along with his diaper, and Myth felt his mind growing hazy. He pulled his hooves away from the diaper, clamping them down on his ears as he flopped onto his padded rump. He looked around, heart pounding as the creatures surrounded him, playing to their heart’s content.

The padding grew bigger and bigger, spreading his hind legs apart as it grew, wrapping his tail up in fluff. He whined, his horn glowing to try and dampen the music around him. It worked, partially, but the muffled music only made him more aware of the squeezings and swellings of the diaper around him as it grew up past his waist and approaching his forelegs. He rocked back and forth, trying to think of anything except the tune wailing all around, the ground beneath him seeming to rise and fall in time with it.

His diaper was now swelling over his forelegs, starting to pull them away from his ears. Myth tried with all of his might to keep his hearing blocked, but it was only a matter of time before his hooves were forced away, and the music began to wash over him.

Myth Maker tried to waddle away, but the diaper was so big his legs could only wiggle – unable to touch the ground.

And, as the music swelled along with his diaper, he began to question to himself why he'd been bothering to try and resist in the first place. It seemed obvious that he was enjoying himself more now, as the sound told him to be a happy bouncy pony!

The ground rose under him with a sudden jolt, flinging him into the air, and then he came down and bounced – and bounced again, and again, every bounce making his diaper produce a pwoomph or a parp which sounded perfectly in time with the music.

Three of the creatures – like fat, wingless dragons, with spines and tails featuring familiar-looking pipes – bounced around him, playing notes on their pipes which filled his ears and lulled his mind, and he began to wish he could play back – then giggled suddenly as a ticklish sensation ran through him, and as a musical tail-pipe sprouted from his plaid diaper!

He was becoming a happy plaid puff-dragon just like them! It should have made him worry, but nothing of the sort happened – instead he just felt grateful, as the infectious excitement wiped away his concerns and replaced them with a simple need to BOUNCE!

Author's Note

Definitely a very silly little story, by concept.