Sprout's Second Chance

Sprout slowly awoke, his head half off the pillow, his jaw a bit sore from the pacifier being forced to stay in his mouth all night, and the wet diaper that was warm and squishy when he had fallen asleep last night was now cold and clammy. Sitting up, he wondered how long it would be before his stomach was positively screaming, figuring it was only a matter of time. It was usually only about 30 minutes or so before his brain was like 'yo, breakfast!', and that was when he had had dinner the night before. He still wasn't sure what time it was, but the morning rays of the sunrise were starting to come through his window.

He got to his hooves and began to stretch using the room he had available within the confines of the crib. His soaked diaper was starting to sag a bit, and he wondered if he should try to get his mom's attention through the baby monitor. He still considered himself fortunate that his pleas in the middle of the night hadn't resulted in more spankings, so he decided not to push his luck, and opted to sit and wait for her to come and get him out herself.

He did remember her saying that he would get his privileges back one by one with good behavior, so he began to ponder which one would be first; he certainly didn't want to be stuck playing with those infantile toys that he saw in the back right corner of his bedroom, surrounded by the playpen fencing; he'd go nuts trying to keep his mind stimulated with those things.

The bedroom door opened, and his mom walked in. She had her glasses on, but her mane was still an absolute bed head.

"Good morning, sugar cube. I think it's time we get you changed and fed, don't you think?" She asked, and he immediately nodded. Phyllis unlatched the bars and lowered them down, letting him hop out. What had been swollen, squishy layers of his diaper a few hours ago was now sagging considerably, and the stench of urine wafted up to her nostrils.

He climbed the short stairs up onto the padding of the changing table, and laid on his back, and his mom took her place between his legs as he let them dangle off of the edge of the table. She untaped the wet diaper, getting sharp tearing sounds from each one that pierced the silence of the room, before grabbing the front and peeling it way from his nether regions. As she grabbed the pack of wipes and began to wipe off the areas previously covered by his diaper, it didn't take his body very long at all to take advantage of the fresh air, and his face burned as he saw his erection rise up from between his legs, and he covered his face with his hooves as he trembled in embarrassment.

"Now this is something you'll have to get used to as well. It's not exactly something we can take away," his mom told him as she worked her way around his morning arousal with the baby wipe, before depositing the used wipe in the wet diaper, grabbing a fresh one, and briefly wiping it down, but otherwise letting it be. The stallion felt another wave of embarrassment wash over him as he wondered if she was expecting him to take care of that particular need on his own time.

As she pulled the wet diaper out from under him, rolling it up and throwing it away in the pail next to the table, Sprout felt his erection slowly die down, and by the time she had a clean diaper unfolded and placed underneath him, it had returned to its pre-aroused state. She grabbed the bottle of foal powder, twisting the cap open, and gave his whole diaper area a liberal dusting before closing the cap and setting it back down on the shelf. She brought the front of the diaper up, smoothed the front against his belly, before bringing the back wings up and taped them to the front landing zone, completing the change.

"And there we go. One more thing..." Phyllis said as her son sat up. She unbuckled the strap holding the pacifier gag in place, taking it out of his mouth, removing the pacifier and placing it around a simple beaded string, letting it hang from his neck.

"There we go. Ready for breakfast?"

"Yes, mommy," he answered.

"Alright, then follow me."

He climbed down off of the changing table, and followed his mom out of the room, out into the hallway, and downstairs. If he was brutally honest with himself, the snug, fresh diaper around his waist felt considerably better than the soaked one he had woken up in. He just hoped he wouldn't have to repeat the late-night 'trickle and tickle' that had forced his bladder into cooperating.

Following his mom into the kitchen, he saw another change that she had made. Replacing one of the four chairs at the dining table, was an upsized, polished, wooden high chair. She stepped up to the chair and removed the top, looking at him expectantly, and he quickly got the hint to climb up into the chair. After he got into the chair, his diaper provided plenty of padding on the hard wooden seat, and she placed the top back down, effectively pinning his hooves to his sides. After that, she went over to the counter, and grabbed a cloth bib patterned with stars and spaceships, tying it around his neck.

Phyllis left him to sit there as she trotted over to the cooking area, starting a pot of water and quickly added oats after it came to a boil. After stirring it for a couple minutes, she tossed in some freshly cut strawberry chunks, and warmed up the bottle of formula that he had refused last night. With his breakfast complete, she pulled out one last item, a full-sized tablespoon, rubber-coated to emulate a foal feeding spoon. Dipping it into the bowl of oatmeal, she brought both over to the wooden tray of the high chair, where she sat down in the regular chair next to him.

"Alright, open up, here it comes," Phyllis said, getting the spoon full of oatmeal, and brought it towards Sprout's mouth. His stomach positively growling by now, he accepted the spoon and closed his lips around it as his mom withdrew to scoop another bite.

His stomach didn't begin to waver from the hunger pangs until the fourth spoonful, at which point his mom took a break from the oatmeal to give him the bottle. It wasn't quite milk-like consistency, but the warm formula was nonetheless tasty as he took several swallows of the fluid before his mom returned to the oatmeal.

As his stomach ceased complaining, he began to internally chastise himself as he silently accepted each bite of breakfast, wishing he had gotten over the shock of this treatment much quicker and had accepted dinner when it had been initially offered last night instead of suffering as he had hastily chosen to.

It took about ten minutes to finish the bowl of oatmeal and the bottle of formula, and when he had done so, he felt satisfied, if not exactly looking forward to later when it made its way through his body to it's inevitable destination, which was currently taped around his waist.

"What a good boy, not fussing at all," his mom praised as she took the bottle, bowl, and spoon to the sink before removing his bib and unlatching the tray so he could jump down to the floor. "Alright, back up to your room for some playtime while mommy has her breakfast and some coffee."

Sprout rolled his eyes as he was afraid he was going to have to futilely attempt to entertain himself with the simple foal puzzles and blocks. They returned back upstairs to his bedroom, where she directed him to the back corner. She opened the gate to the playpen, and he stepped in. It looked as if the playpen gating was the only thing in the room that had not been sized up; he could easily hop over it if he wanted to, but he had a feeling that doing so would just give himself a one-way ticket back to the stool and paddle.

After he was inside, his mom latched the gate closed and turned back towards the door. He started to eye the toys, trying to decide which one to try first, when he heard hoofsteps approach again, and turned to see his mom set a familiar looking plastic tub into the pen.

"Since you got changed and had breakfast without a fuss, here's something for bigger ponies to enjoy. Have fun, and I'll check on you in a bit," Phyllis said, turning and leaving the room.

Sprout approached the plastic tub and peered inside, and his eyes widened as his mind was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he looked at all the plastic bricks, gears, and minifigures.

It was his old PoneBloks toys that he collected and played with when he was younger! Most of the sets were from the Zombie Unicorns From Space franchise. Many of them were in pieces, but it looked like he could easily put them back together, maybe even make a few modifications.

So he sat down in front of the tub and began to dig through it and organize the various pieces and partially constructed spaceships, as he was brought back to a younger, simpler time...