Spike Has Three Mommies

Chapter Three

Fluttershy shifted anxiously as Twilight pulled on a new sweater. “I just put them down for a nap. And Mrs. Cake says she’s too busy catering the Royal Garden Party to help out right now.”

Twilight frowned. “What about Mr. Cake?”

“He’s there, too.”

“Pinkie Pie?”

“She’s baking a cake in honor of Princess Luna.”

Twilight ran a hand down her face. “Ugh. What about the rest of our friends?”

Fluttershy held up her cell phone. “Oh, well, Applejack says she’s helping Apple Bloom with her first harvest, and Rainbow Dash is organizing volunteers for the neighborhood watch.” When she saw the growing frown on Twilight’s face, she brightly added, “But I got in touch with Rarity!”

“And?”

“Um, also busy…” Her voice trailed off into a pitiful squeak.

Twilight pressed her hands together. “Celestia give me patience. Okay, then. Keep an eye on the twins. We’ll be right back.”

Spike wandered off. “I’ll get the car keys.”

“No time for that!” Twilight grabbed him by the wrist and raised her other hand into the air. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hand into a fist. Brilliant white light flashed over them, lifting Spike off his feet in a celestial swirl.

As Twilight brushed the spell residue off her sweater, Spike clutched at his knees for support. He wished the opulent den would stop spinning.

“I’d really wish you’d warn me…” he panted, “before you cast teleportation…”

“Don’t be such a baby.” His big sister patted him on the back. “Besides, the spell’s now ninety-two percent effective. It’ll be better next time.”

There was a rustle from upstairs in the boutique. A high-toned voice called down, “Hello? Twilight, is that you?”

“We’re here.” Twilight gently pushed Spike forward. “Stay there, we’ll come up.”

By the time they got up the stairs and into the boutique’s workshop, it was a complete mess. Coils of lace and ribbon floated through the air on electric blue currents, as four automated sewing machines were busy stitching together fabric into a variety of dresses. And in the center of the noise and clutter stood Rarity, stationed at a drawing table. She glanced around the room absentmindedly, using her own brand of spellcraft to project ghostly arms of blue light to feed the lace and ribbon into each machine.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said the designer. She pushed up her glasses into her hair. “As I told Fluttershy, I’ve just been so busy this morning.”

“You must have a lot of orders,” Twilight remarked, looking over the sewing machines.

Rarity laughed. “Oh, not at all! I don’t have any customers today, so this is my own personal project. Just a little something I threw together.”

Spike stared at the intricate mass of ribbon and lace floating overhead. If this was what Rarity considered “little,” he couldn’t imagine a big project would be like.

Twilight wandered over to the drawing table. “Actually, I might have a special order for you—”

“Really?!” Rarity’s glasses all but flew off her head as she whirled toward Twilight with a giant smile. The magical arms vanished, scattering ribbons everywhere. “Oh, thank you, darling! I’ve been so miserable without a client! You’ve no idea! What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s for Spike. You see…” Twilight looked over at Spike, who felt his cheeks start to turn red. Then she leaned close to Rarity and whispered quickly into her ear.

“Oh, no!” Rarity rushed forward and all but tackled Spike in a sudden hug. “Oh, my poor little Spikey-wikey! This is just the worst thing ever!”

Spike couldn’t imagine feeling more awkward. A hug from Rarity was something he treasured, except for this. “Uh, thank you… Rarity…”

“Now, then! About your diaper—” Rarity stopped, blushing a little. She grinned and put her hands on Spike’s shoulder. “I-I mean, your ‘new clothes’ shouldn’t be too hard to make. I’ll just need a sample of what you’re wearing.”

“I think I can arrange that,” said Twilight. She put her hands on her temples and focused. “Just give me a few seconds…”

A small cloud of violet smoke and light appeared near the drawing table. Rarity held Spike close as they watched the cloud explode in a brilliant flash.

When the smoke cleared, Fluttershy stood in the center of the room, holding a pair of crying toddlers, with a large diaper bag at her feet.

“Oh, my,” said the pink-haired girl, sounding a little sick. “I forgot how much I hate teleports…”