Author's Note

Agggggh. YES. I have been planning this from the start and it feels so nice to get our rising action point in the plot going. I really enjoyed writing this. It was a lot of fun for me.

Enjoy this and get ready for a feelsy next chapter!

Deviations

Mesma considered herself to be a lot of things.

She thought herself caring, sometimes selfish, a definite attention hog, a hard worker, a strict owner, and a sometimes desperate mare.

She considered herself to be all of these things, and she was. But one thing no pony could call her was stupid.

She was a pony who planned things, down to every detail. She was calculating, crude, and very decisive when she decided she wanted them, and was very careful on how she went about getting it. She planned for loopholes, and occasionally disasters, but sometimes things happened that she didn’t plan for. When that happened, she often gave into impulses.

This was one of those times.

When Thunderlane awoke later that day, he was back in his adult headspace. He was notably embarrassed to see Spitfire in his home, and could only vaguely recall what had happened earlier in the day. Spitfire assured him that nothing bad happened, that he had behaved himself perfectly well, and that she had just come with him to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Thunderlane had breathed a little easier after that.

Spitfire had taken off shortly afterward. She had definitely considered telling Thunderlane her suspicions, but in her infinite wisdom, she knew it would be no good. If whoever did this to him was smart enough to have him forget their name, he likely wouldn’t be able to identify her. She considered telling him about the possible conclusion she had come to- that all of this had been some sort of hypnosis, but she decided against it. She wouldn’t say anything to him until she was sure. He had enough to worry about. She took her suspicions back to the Wonderbolts base, gathered all of them for a meeting, and showed them the crude drawing Thunderlane had made, and the rest of what she thought was happening, and asked her fellow teammates to keep an eye out off the clock for whomever this was. They all agreed to do so.

They were, after all, a kind of family.

With that, Spitfire had dismissed them, and began her own sort of investigation.

After Spitfire left him, Thunderlane found himself in need of changing, and was about to go and do so, when he suddenly felt a mess being pushed into his diaper, and groaned. He wanted to slap himself. It seemed that he had lost control of his bowels too. As he changed himself, his feelings of anger, disgust, fear, and panic congealed into one singular thought:

Could my life get any worse?

Well, he was about to learn. As the saying went, be careful what you wish for.

As he prepared for bed that night, he climbed in. He had his pacifier, his blanket, his diaper. Everything he could think to need. And so he went to sleep, unknowing and unaware of what was to come.

That night, at three in the morning, Mesma came through her window, prepared with one last command. But before she could speak it to him, he stirred. He blinked open his eyes and smiled at her.

“Mommy!” He squealed. She laughed and hugged him.
“How’s Mommy’s favorite little colt?”

“I good! I had lotsa fun today!”

“Really? What did you do, sweetie?”

“I got to color today with Auntie Spits!”

The admission disturbed Mesma, threw her off her game. “Auntie Spits, huh?”

He nodded excitedly. “Yeah huh! She nice. She makeded me feel better when I was sad.”

“Really? Does she do that often?”

“Nuh uh. This was the first time. She let my fwiends practice when she took care of me.”

“Your friends?”

“Yeah! Dashie, An’ Soarin, Fleetfoot, and everypony else.”

This was a dilemma Mesma was not anticipating. She had made sure every step of the way to work in that he wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on. But it looked like he had managed to disobey her and rebel a bit, and this made her angry. But she would not let it show on her face, because even with this setback, her plan would still work. She would just have to go undetected for a while. And she knew where to do it. Looks like she would have to combine the last two steps of her plan into one.

“That sounds, great, baby! Hey, guess what?”

“Wha?”

“Mommy has a surprise for you.”

“Really?!”

She nodded. “Yep. Hop on Mommy’s back.” She said and got down so he could.

He did so, bouncing in excitement and still holding his blankie.

Mesma took off from the ground and out the window, as Thunderlane squeaked happily. He liked looking down below. From up where they were, the houses below looked like toys he could play with. The thought made him giggle. Maybe Mommy would get him some toy houses to play with. That would be nice.

They flew for a long time, so long that Thunderlane almost fell back asleep a few times, but kept himself awake because he didn’t wanna fall that far. Just as he was gearing up for a tantrum, Mommy began to descend. She landed in a beautiful meadow, with flowers, and ivy curling up the sides of a house.

“Where are we?” He asked.

Mesma smiled at him as she let him off of her back. “You’ll see.”

She opened the door to a kitchen and dining room, that had all the amenities anypony could want. Oven, stove, pantry, refrigerator, sink, and of course cabinets, along with a bottle warmer that sat on the counter. The dining room was fairly normal, with chairs and a vase with a daisy in it. The only notable deviation from something average was an adult sized highchair. Mesma led him through the living room, which was decorated only by a couch, coffee table and bookshelf, and down a short corridor. She turned to first door on the left, unlocked it with a key, and then let him inside.

It was a nursery. With a crib big enough to fit him, a changing table big enough to do the same, a playpen with plenty of room for him and piled high with toys, a rocking chair, a closet full of clothes, and a toy chest that offered even more wonders for him to enjoy. As Thunderlane’s eyes went wide and he took it all in, Mesma whispered to him.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”