Untitled by Anon

 

 

The legs wake up first.

Before you even open your eyes to squint through the early morning rays punching through those flambouyant purple curtains your back hooves kick out with a resurrecting jolt and send the bedsheets to the floor. Evidently you slept in so your body is beyond ready to get up and start moving again. If not for your sodden diaper, which was thoroughly drenched from overnight use, you'd feel like you could spring right out of the room. Hauling you and your soaking wet behind out from the tangle of covers, you trot downstairs, rubbing at your puffy eyes with the back of a hoof. You keep bumping into the corners of end tables and other furniture because of the swollen bulk you are practically dragging behind you. As yawn after unrestrained yawn escapes your mouth you hear an overdramatic sigh nearby.

"Darling, some decorum please," a familiar voice drawls down the hall. You can hear the eye rolls in her tone. "You're not the only sleepy one in this house."

You're about to turn a corner in the direction of that sing-song voice when your oversized floof-caboose collides with yet another end table, knocking a near-priceless vase off balance. A quick burst of magic from your stubby horn quickly rights the artifact with a loud porcelain clunk. You grimace at your clumsiness, anticipating the earful. With no followup jab however you put on your best special-somepony-smile and saunter into your marefriend Rarity's "inspiration room."

The room is a mess, as usual. This was one space where such catastrophic ostentatiousness was warranted and actually helped Rarity in her design process. Despite your earlier mishap, you nimbly navigate your way through an obstacle course of discarded pieces of fabric and other materials strewn across the carpet. The fashionista herself is as prim and proper as usual, her chin slightly raised and her back to you, back legs daintily planted. Thread and needle, measuring tape, scissors, and other tools flit about around her in their own respective magical auras as she busies herself with a dress. Materials fly this way and that as she puts together her latest creation.

Another genius lineup engineered by moi, you imagine her touting. While the mocking voice in your brain amuses itself with these little quips, your eyes busy themselves by admiring Rarity's gorgeous figure.

By facing away Rarity not only hides the dark circles under her eyes from pulling an all-nighter but also gives you a nice view of her rump which, as it usually was nowadays, swaddled up snugly in padding. Ever the accessorizer, today she had picked out a cute purple cover made up of the same satiny material you would see on a velvet rope, with frilly trim and her cutie mark printed right on the butt.

"Yes, unlike you, I was up all night doing my work," Rarity says, her back still to you, giving a little insistent step at that.

You eye the bone-dry coffee pot on the counter nearby. Now you know what that diaper cover is for - she doesn't want to show off her wet flank.

Using your magic, you let a spool of ribbon whip her right on her padded rear.

Rarity jumps and her supplies all come falling down to the carpet at once.

"H-Hey!" she fumes, her concentration broken. She lets out another sigh.

"Oh, make yourself useful and brew another pot or something."

 

You take a quick glance out the window, seeing that there is absolutely nothing hanging on the laundry line. Ah, so no cloth. And then you notice the assorted empty boxes piled in the corner.

Miss Rarity senses your gaze and looks at you dead on with a few eyebrow raises. "And yes, before you prattle on about it, the new disposables finally arrived earlier this week." When you pout and grumble she backs that ass up and bops you on the nose with her diaper-butt. "As the designer, it is my duty-" Your childish snickering makes her harrumph "...It is of utmost importance that I thoroughly evaluate the garments before releasing them to the public, for quality assurance. 'The public' includes you, dear." She goes back to her work. "Knowing you, if you had gotten your hooves on them first there would have been nothing left of the shipment to test."

You can't argue with that. She was right anyway; you tended to go through diapers very fast. Besides, you would rather not take personal responsibility for in any way dragging down your marefriend's latest venture, lest you suffer a grim and bloody death at her tastefully manicured hooves.

You decide to take a closer look at these hyped up diapers. With two quick flicks of magical force you undo the velcro on both of the front wings of her cover. Rarity gives a little yelp and squeezes her back legs together, catching the cover before it completely fell. You cannot help but admire the sight of her flanks blanketed in the thick white of the diaper, the cover folding outwards between her thighs like the torn gift wrap of a newly opened present. She wrinkles her muzzle at you, tilting her head.

"What ever are you doing, dear?" she inquires. You let your hooves do the talking, prodding and poking at the all-white bundle within. The cottony layer beneath the plastic backing is very plushy in nature, almost marshmallowy. Despite the thickness, you can tell she is very soggy by the way the tint has darkened a bit in the crotch, not to mention the loud squashing sound when you press at it.

"I-I think it will still be a while before I need a change," she says, pouting. You give a little snicker. Rarity used to completely freeze up at the first sign of wetness in her padding, prodding you to "get it off, get it off" like it was some sort of parasitic creature. After much experience though she had come to like the warm, full feeling, even going so far as to try to "maximize" the amount of time she would stay in one diaper before switching. Some ambitious nights the entire panel would be soaked before she gave in.

You decide to show some ambition of your own and press your muzzle right into the swell, taking a big whiff. Rarity only bites her lip, her voice caught in her throat. She continues to feign work on the dress but only succeeds in poking here and there with a needle like an inattentive filly picking at the last bites of her supper.

Meanwhile you have reached up with both hooves and pressed them to her flanks. You spread them, knowing that under the diaper you have parted her lower lips. Now you start nudging at her crotch hard with your nose, trying to stimulate her through the squishy thickness. Rarity reacts noticeably, letting out a little sigh and spreading her legs a bit more. It had been a couple days since you two had been last intimate and the last threads of restraint had finally snapped. You are now hungrily grounding your whole muzzle into the mush of her diaper, tongue and teeth working at her heat through the persistent barrier. Your fashionista has practically mounted the ponnequin to stabilize herself amidst the fracas on her filly fanny. She bites into the hem of the fancy commissioned dress to muffle her moans. Sensing her oncoming release, you tug on her tail with one hoof and furiously grind the other up and down over her special spot. Rarity's eyes bug out and she tenses up, in the process whipping her head back and taking the mouthful of cloth with her. Right at that moment there is a terrible tear - a sound right on par with horseshoes on a chalkboard to the designer. Your assault stops for a second and you look at Rarity, shocked. She looks back, eyes questioning.

"Wuwt?" she pants through the dress material still in her mouth. "Whaw dih you sta-aaah!" Her confusion is enough of a sign to finish her off and you go back to smooshing her diaper with your hoof. She squeals and sticks her butt out, her entire backside shaking as she cums. You keep your hoof planted there as she rides out her wave, knowing she was busy painting the inside of her ultra-absorbent diaper with her special love juices. Rarity falls to her belly, spent. She ends up ripping the entire hem of the dress once again as she pulls it down with her in her collapse.

You quickly take your place next to her side, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a little diaper bump.

"Ruffian." she says, giving you a playful shove. When she keeps shoving you though you realize what she wants and you roll over onto your back. Rarity crawls between your outstretched legs and measures up your diaper carefully with a raised brow. She then clears her throat. Her attention to detail allows her to make a little observation.

"Mmm, a little clammy down here, aren't we?" she says, drawing circles into the puffy crotch of your padding with the edge of a hoof. "Do you have any more for me?" she murmurs, ducking in her chin and giving you puppy-dog eyes the way she does so well.

You lay back and close your eyes to concentrate so you can give her "more." There is a little tap on your hip however and you stay your flow. "A moment, love."

Curiously Rarity is trying to fit her hoof down the front of your diaper. Despite the rather fine tape job, if you did say so yourself, there was still enough room for her slender forehoof to snake down your groin and cup at your sheath.

"You may go now," she murmurs, licking at her lips seductively. She was serious about this. After a pause to compose yourself and clear your mind of the pure naughtiness of the current situation, you start rewetting your diaper with your morning spray. You feel Rarity's hoof press to your mound to partake in the spreading warmth. Though she keeps the caresses to a minimum so as not to induce a hardon, just the presence of her hoof alone has you on the brink. You melt at the sensation of your stream pouring around Rare's silky hoof and spilling into the puffy layers underneath. You've been rubbing at Rarity's cutie mark all the while as if to urge her on in confidence. After squeezing the last few bursts out you watch speechlessly as Rarity withdraws her hoof from its sodden confines. The once immaculate coat along her forehoof has been stained a champaign bronze from your piddle.

Rarity's intense gaze into your eyes never breaks as she slowly, daintily, laps at the sullied appendage with dabs from her little pink tongue. She samples your golden essence not like an expensive beverage served at some upper-crust function but like milk from a dish, as demure and kittenish as can be. Something inside you wants to burst and you want to tackle Rarity and smooch her into oblivion, not caring what you taste in the process. You jolt at the ripping of your tapes however, snapping you out of your spell. Rarity untapes your diaper slowly and deliberately with her magic before taking the waistband between her teeth and carefully pulling it forward. Wasting no time, your marefriend begins lapping at your sheath and balls, cleaning up all the excess moisture. You blush at the wanton display of piss-lust as she licks up droplets of your urine off your fur. Inevitably your cock begins to reveal itself and expands across your belly. Rarity's lips and tongue dance along your length, leaving a silvery sheen of saliva behind.

"Omf~" Rarity voices her contentment in having your member back in her mouth after so long. She bobs her head, making excessively loud slurping noises. She slides a hoof under your weighty diaper and cups your balls through the sodden material from the outside, bathing them in the warmth of your own piddled padding. Your hooves have found the sides of her head, holding her in place so you can thrust upward into that slippery maw of hers.

When your breath grows ragged, Rarity spits out your staff, letting her magic take over in the interim as she climbs over you. She spins around to plop her ass on your chest. Using a combination of hooves and tingly magic, she jacks you off, pointing the flaring head of your cock right at her diaper front. With a cry you thrust upward into her grip one final time. Thick globs of semen splash up all over her diaper, barely blending in with the white plastic. She coos, smushing the shaft between her hoof and her diaper so that the final drops spill messily down the center.

Rarity falls back against you with a little giggle. You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart still beating loudly in your ears. You hug your beautiful marefriend from behind. Rarity is quiet, lazily swirling the streaks of spooge on her diaper with her hooves and rubbing it up into her belly fur.

 

In the meantime you look over at the ruined dress, speechless. Rarity suddenly starts giggling which then turns into a full-blown laugh. You are worried it is one of her dreadful nervous breakdown laughs but thankfully she is really cracking herself up now.

We'll get through this one, you say to yourself. But first, a bath is in order.