Good Morning, Your Majesty!
Dash woke up to a luxuriantly heavy quilt covering his chest, and a hazy, hard-to-place feeling of knowing where he was – or, rather, knowing he wasn’t where he should be. His mane was scattered over his eyes, and sitting up brought an unfamiliar, blinding ray of sunlight from a window beside the four-poster bed, the velvet red curtains drawn back to fill the room with warmth and brightness. His room – was it? – resembled something out of a fairy tale, wide open with wooden walls and cushy, artisan furniture: a chaise lounge, a glorious vanity scattered with makeup tools, an array of mirrors and a platform to the side presumably for dressing up or modeling outfits, and cushy rugs and carpets strewn about the hardwood floor.
A “huh…” escaped from his lips as he scooted against the headboard, scrunching up against a wealth of pillows and drawing the sheets closer to him. He was nude underneath, and tantalizingly sensitive to boot, short coat of fur providing little protection for his apparently far-too-soft skin as he felt the threads of silk rubbing along his legs, the thick cushiness of that quilt hugging up to his chest as he tried to get his bearings. It felt right being here, and it certainly wasn’t a bad place to be either, but something felt wrong at the same time, waking up nude in a bed that didn’t feel quite his with each little waft of warm air lazing across his body as the bedding shifted with his movements. Nude… Something about being nude, not a single thing on him.
The little buzzing of revelation drawing near was cut short as the door opposite his bed pushed open, and a cart pushed in with a bustling racket, wheels rattling across the hardwood. “Good morning, King Dash!” called the mare pushing it forward, a familiar-looking staff with auburn mane, matching fiery eyes to match, and a yellow coat. Her wings flared out behind her, and a smile grew across her face as she gave a curtsy and set the cart beside the bed.
It was heaped up with delicious breakfast – the scent of freshly baked pastries of fruit and bread, pancakes already laid with syrup mixing that maple sweetness into the air, and a healthy assortment of bacon, sausage, eggs fried just the way he liked. The mare went ahead and began to pour a cup of juice, before reaching underneath the cart and producing a cup of espresso. “Here you go, sire,” she said, putting it into his hands already absentmindedly outstretched to receive it as he became aware of how hungry he was.
“Oh, thank you, Spitfire,” he said, before blinking and shaking his head left and right. The name escaped his lips before he could even realize, or think to ask what her name was. And had she referred to him as King Dash? He was near asking her what that was about, but couldn’t find a way to ask. A sip, first, some coffee would clear his mind surely.
The lady, Spitfire if he was to trust himself, set a wooden tray across his chest and began to lay out a portion of everything onto it. He took a tentative drink of the espresso while his mind raced, and was pleasantly surprised: the slight bitterness and acidity was cut by a heavier caramel profile as he tilted his head back, and he found himself downing the cup slowly, evenly. Once he was satisfied, he let his chin back down, giving a breathy sigh and placing the cup into Spitfire’s hands, already outstretched in anticipation of him finishing. She flashed a disarming smile at him again, as she laid a fork and knife at the edge of the tray.
“Looking fantastic as always, your majesty. I imagine you are looking forward to the parade today, so do let me know if you wish for any more. I’ll get Miss Nightshade in here to help you get dressed once you’ve finished,” she stepped back, giving him a bit of room.
“Oh, the parade…” He led, acting as if he knew an inkling of what she was talking about. Nothing surged to mind when she mentioned it, and he took a strawberry pastry into his hands to eat as he considered how to ask. “Ah, yes, is everything in order for it? Give me a full recap of the preparations, just so I can make sure everything is accounted for.”
“Oh, most certainly sire. As every year, the parade starts at noon, led by yourself through the city streets. Your attire has been tailored exactly to your specifications, the afterparty is being set up as we speak, and as always your subjects are excited as ever to see you in your regalia. Might I say, you’ve truly outdone yourself this year, it’s fabulous as ever. Miss Nightshade is just making sure to once-over it, not a single thread can be out of place, and then once you’re dressed we’ll follow your plan to exactitude. It’s all written out,” she leads, before pulling a clipboard from behind her back. He tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse, but the angle just wasn’t loose enough to peek.
“Ah, well,” he turned his head back to the feast in front of him. “If it’s my plan I’m sure it’ll work out perfectly.” A king must be confident after all, and even if he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, he was apparently king – what’s the worst that could happen if he just followed out what he set? He could deal with everything else afterward.
Dash wolfed down the rest of the breakfast, each bite tastier than the last. It was all pristine, as to be expected of a king’s meal, and he stretched out his arms over his head as Spitfire took away the tray, a light brush from her sleeves against his chest giving a tickle as she did. A grin grew on her face as he stifled a little giggle, still unused to how sensitive his body was. Yet another question to probe when all was done.
“Well, sire, if that will be all then I shall inform Miss Nightshade. I’m sure she’s excited to help you get ready.” She turned the cart around as she finished, wheeling it away as she left Dash alone for a moment. A faint giggling echoed out from behind the door as it creeped shut, and he took the moment to tug the covers off of him and get his hooves on the ground to inspect his room.
The heel of his hoof touched down on the surprisingly cold hardwood of the floor, and he reeled it back up before setting it on a much more comfortable, lush red carpet. His hands came back over his chest, hugging a little warmth into himself as he remarked how cold it was outside the covers of his bed. Wandering over to a wardrobe, he pulled it open to reveal a menagerie of suits, a little formal and stiff-looking but not the worst by any measure – much more comfortable than they appeared under the inspection of his fingertips, rubbing up a sleeve as he tried to jog his memory. The other door of his wardrobe, however, brought a lot more confidence: the light beaming from the window hit the perfect shine off an array of sleek, vibrantly colored latex hanging up: full suits, gloves and socks, some pieces emblazoned with his mark but all much more befitting – this was definitely his.
Just as he was wondering if it’d be fruitful to slip into it, a warm “Good morning” along with the door swinging open took his attention to a mare flicking her vibrant indigo locks out of her eyes and looking him up and down. His cheeks flushed a tad, putting his hands over his waist for some semblance of modesty, which widened up her smile in response.
“Oh, relax, your highness. Not like I’m not familiar with it – I’d dare to say I know it better than some parts of myself,” she ended with a little flourish, like an amicable tease between old friends.
“Come, come, we better get you done up. It’s always a whole process, but we’re well on track!” She pulled the chair on the vanity back, beckoning him to sit into it as she looked him up and down.
Looking into the mirror as she fixed his seat beneath him, her yellow eyes were alight with excitement as she took stock of the grooming tools and makeup before him, reaching over his shoulder to grab a brush and begin sorting out his mane. Nightshade’s hands tilted his head just say, fingers under his chin to adjust his angle in the mirror so she could get the strokes just right. Slow, even, tempered – even a little relaxing, as he found his head pushing back into her hold and his eyes lidding. His ears flicked a little as he felt her behind them, going over that sensitive cluster of nerves and massaging his scalp with her fingertips after she’d brushed the tangles out.
“Ahh… You’re always so good with your hands, Nightshade,” he let out, to a cozy little giggle behind her as she gave a little scratch behind his ears.
“Oh, I hear that all the time.” He didn’t need to see to know the smirk on her face as she set the brush down beside him, picking up something else before taking his hair in her hand – followed by a snip snip snip , trimming his ends. She went about getting every little strand perfect as Dash closed his eyes and relaxed, the only sound interrupting the occasional scissor-close being his breath in the serene darkness of his closed eyes.
“Here here,” she said, tapping on his shoulder to stir him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked himself over, nodding in approval as he straightened in his chair.
“Looks good! Well, if that’ll be–” he was beginning to stand from his chair, as Nightshade placed a hand on his shoulder and brought him back down.
“Not yet! We have to get your makeup.” Her eyes glimmered again as she turned his chair ninety degrees to the right, slid out a stool that was hidden underneath the vanity, and sat in front of him to look over his face. She tufted his hair just a little, bangs being temporarily brought away from his closed eyes as she worked over them. He sat still, cheeks a little warm as he felt her fingers and soft, delicate brushes working over the contours of his face – he hadn’t quite been expecting makeup, but it made sense, he supposed. Finally, she instructed him to purse his lips as she glossed over them, and then to open up his eyes and take a peek.
It was immaculate . Delicately constructed rainbow eyeliner, subtle but complementing his mane and just the perfect composition with his bangs hanging just above his eyes. Rich, cerulean lips on his cheeks, blush barely noticeable under a little makeup indistinguishable from his natural coat, and there she was lingering behind him, beaming with pride over his work.
“This looks phenomenal, Nightshade. Well, with that out of the way, I suppose I should get dressed, right?” He stood from the chair, setting it back to the vanity as he turned to her.
“Oh, absolutely. First things first,” she took a few steps to a piece of furniture he hadn’t quite noticed before – a raised up counter with a padded, fabric top on it. His eyes looked at it, and it didn’t click until she gave the top a pat.
“Sorry, is that a…”
“Changing table, yes. We had it freshly made since you asked to wear a diaper, what with the parade taking so long and all,” she led matter-of-factly, as though he wasn’t standing there stunned. “No more having to get through all those ruffly layers to take a quick bathroom break, you’ll be perfectly fine.”
She gave another beaming smile and pat onto the changing table, clearly expecting him to take the lead on getting himself up there. He stepped over, grateful the makeup would presumably be covering his burning red face as he hauled himself up top to lay down.
“Oh, the mages had quite the experience with it, too, so I’ve been told.” She raised up a hot pink, immensely thick diaper that looked as though it was burgeoning as she unfolded it into something wider than the pillow he was laying his head on earlier. The inside was thick with a purple, lightly pulsing gel that glowed, and he felt a stirring beneath him as he kept his arms restrained at his side for some appearance of regality as she laid it onto the changing table beneath his raised up legs. It didn’t even sag underneath his rear as his legs were brought back down – the goop pushed down between his cheeks, encompassing every inch of his lower half from the waist to his mid-thighs as he laid there with a fully erect shaft poking into the air.
Nightshade stood there for a few moments, as if letting the searing nature of his predicament soak in, before poking his shaft down ever so gently with a fingertip toward his feet – not a word escaped her mouth, but he could see that wicked smirk on her face as he tried to retain a stoic expression while she brought the other end of the diaper up. The rest of that half felt the supporting hold of the gel over every inch of him, and his shaft pushed up through it to go back away from him as she taped up the diaper firmly. The thing was so ridiculously huge that he didn’t even make a single deformation in its smooth, pillowy front, and he pushed a hand lightly into it to test – not even the slightest sensation of touch on his now trapped prick.
“Well, that’s done, now it’s time to get into your dress! Not to worry, it’ll be practically invisible under that skirt you picked out – it’s barely able to fit through the doorway to your room, but we’ll manage. I’ll leave you here, be right back!” She hurried off, another titter of giggles echoing outside of his closing door as she did so.
He struggled to turn his hips with the huge amount of padding spreading his thighs apart, but managed to struggle and slide off the changing table to get his hooves back on the floor. It felt like a spreader bar was between his legs, attempting to close his thighs with force giving just an inch of progress before getting them opened back up as the diaper expanded back to its full size. He tried to step forward back over to the vanity, but it turned to a much more clumsy, delicate waddle as he teetered his way over to get a good look – it reached his knees at the lowest point and hugged his hips, and the front, which he could barely see over looking down, was branded with his cloud and rainbow lightning bolt.
While he was gawking at his huge diaper, Nightshade began to wheel in a clothing rack through the door, and he turned just in time to see an extravagantly wide ballgown, lavender satin and silk with azure ribbons adorning the skirt and snaking up toward the low-cut chest. It was accompanied by two matching light purple opera gloves hanging beside it, and a radiant tiara with amethyst gemstones twinkling in the sunlight from the window as Nightshade brought the rack to a stop right before him.
“Just to your specifications, your majesty. A magnificent dress, simple yet incredible,” she led, looking back over the royal stallion as he stood with his legs wide. “Well, I think we’d better get you into it. The parade is due to start any moment now, where you’ll strut around showing yourself off to all your adoring public. I’m sure you’re excited, so just stand there and I’ll do all the hard work getting you into this!”
Nearly every ounce of him trembled at the thought of what he was about to get into, but one very resilient, well-mannered molecule of him stood there still, regally raising up his arms as Nightshade took the dress from the rack and worked him into it. The fabric was divinely comfortable, rubbing over every inch of his exposed body – fortunately, the most sensitive parts of him were protected from the luxurious threads gliding over his skin, hugging him just so around the midsection. He felt the weight of the skirt, bulky and thick, hugging around his legs as he let his hands fall onto it, a poofy cloud that would certainly be tricky working through the doorway now that it was on him with his inability to step straight. Just as he was exploring the sides of it, Nightshade took one of his arms and slipped his hands into the gloves, pulling them up snugly past his forearms and letting them rest hugging his biceps. Finally, she took the tiara from the rack and delicately set it over his head, a smirk practically taking up all her face.
“Well, my king, you look just stunning. I do believe it’s about time to start heading to the town square for the parade, but just stay right here for a moment while I set things in order and then we’ll get you over.”
After leaving Dash’s cell, Nightshade doubled over cackling, looking to Spitfire as the door swung shut behind her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Nightshade began, leaning onto a desk overlooking a one-way mirror into Dash’s room. She saw him exploring over his exposed upper chest with those gloves, snickering at the princess in her overly flamboyant getup. “It just tickles me so much that he’s always trying to act so serious, as if it isn’t the most ridiculous, humiliating thing in the world.”
“You can’t act to save your life, you know.” Spitfire chuckled, taking up a mug of coffee from the table and having a sip. “I guess it goes to show how strong the hypnosis is, no way he’s ever going to catch wise until after the parade when it’s going to wear off. Then he’ll remember ‘Oh right, I was showing off how much of a pretty princess I was to the whole complex’. Of course, maybe we’ll let him reign as king for a while longer – it is pretty cute…”
Spitfire dangled a hand into a vat of heated, purple ooze at her side, the transparent container showing all of Dash’s waist to his thighs magically held aloft inside them. She dragged a fingertip through the goo along his shaft, and snickered as she watched him tremble and gasp from the other room, imagining how his poor knees must be crossing together from beneath that immense volume of fabric and pillowy impediment.
“Well, I think we got everything just about arranged. I’m sure everyone will be very happy to have their turn on that, so don’t get too greedy with it – though it’s not like he’ll be cumming anytime soon,” Nightshade began, walking over and dipping her hand in to pump up and down along his shaft. A rune etched into the vat glowed, Dash’s expression turning to pent up frustration as he squirmed from across the room. “Of course, the king will have to behave. We’ll give anyone who can manage to make him crack a little treat, maybe, have some fun with it!”
Spitfire stood back from her desk and stretched out, before picking up a camcorder beside her and flashing a grin. “Go on, Lady Shade of the Night. I’ll get footage, you can wheel along his royal scepter behind him.”
The pair got out the last of their giggles, before turning open the door to Dash’s chamber. “Time to greet your adoring citizens, your majesty~”
Author's Note
Check me out on FA at https://www.furaffinity.net/user/zaklight/ or AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZakLight or Twitter at @Zak__Light
