“I think they’re gone now.”

Fluttershy’s fur was so soft. It was like the most soothing balm on Scootaloo’s muzzle as she sought refuge from the increasingly frigid wind outside. She twisted and turned, and the silky fluff caressed her cheeks in all the most pleasant ways in response. Scootaloo would have been content to just stay here and investigate this wondrous material further, were it not for the call of duty. Plenty of younger fillies and colts were causing an increasingly excited racket outside, and Scootaloo could already feel the musics of this strange land grip her by the marrow.

“And then she made woosh and boom, and ice exploded from the ground,” Magnolia fawned, dreamily hanging in her mother’s hooves and making the kicking motions into the air, “she’s so cool. The way she moves around the arena, like a shadow. She was almost invisible! How is that possible? This must have been the best magic duel ever.”

“Uh huh,” Magnolia’s mom said, “I’ve heard that one before.”

“But this time it’s for real,” Magnolia said.

“Well, lucky you I’ve put away some bits for the new fan merchandise for your collection then, huh?” Magnolia’s mom exchanged a nuzzle with her daughter. Her motherly face bore lines of tiredness, and she had been wistfully eyeing the bar, but she showed restraint in her daughter’s presence. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Enjoying ourselves?” Terry said, “That fight was absolutely dreadful!” She was also hanging in her aunt’s hooves, but that was because she was so worn out.

“Dreadfully exciting, that is?” Victory said.

“Well, yes,” Terry said, “but that’s beside the point. They kept beating each other up, and they destroyed the entire stage in the process. It was so loud. Everything crackled and sparked and exploded! How can anypony enjoy something like this? I wish nopony would fight ever again.”

“A noble request,” Victory said. Though she held Terry tenderly, her large frame seemed a bit tense. She showed restraint as well, but her hoof restlessly played with an awfully familiar pack of Savannah Sensations. “But sometimes, for some things, you have to fight. That’s just the way the world turns. Be grateful that you have somepony else to do it, so that you don’t need to.”

“Will you fight for me, auntie?” Terry said.

“Only thing I’m going to fight here is my thirst,” Victory remarked.

“Gorn’s poise was magnificent,” Circuit said, “he looked like a true warrior of light, clad in radiant armor and wielding mace and chain made of diamonds.”

“Do you hear that? The big and strong hero,” Merry Winds cooed at Scout. She herself wasn’t particularly interested, but the tiny pony in her hooves was practically glued to Circuit’s enthusiastic recounting. “Here, why don’t you take him for a spell?”

“Gorn descended upon the realm with the righteous fury of an inspired champion on a virtuous quest,” Circuit continued as he took Scout onto his back, “and with skill and his ingenious enchanted gear, he roamed the lands to vanquish all darkness. You like that, huh?”

Scout squealed and blubbered excitedly, shaking his stubby little hooves in an attempt at applause.

“That’s enough!” Scootaloo said, emerging from under Fluttershy’s jacket, “What is that music?”

“Oh, that?” Magnolia said, “That’s the marching band.”

“They have a marching band?” Scootaloo said.

“Sure,” Magnolia said, “what good would be a festival without a marching band?”

“And where is that marching band?” Scootaloo said.

“Coming through here,” Magnolia giggled, “why else did you think everypony was gathering?”

Well, not everypony. Scootaloo diligently scanned the skies to confirm the absence of her new fan club, before she fully crawled out of Fluttershy’s clothing and nuzzled up to her from the outside. Figures those big clingy ponies wouldn’t hang around the little foals’ fairgrounds, especially with the more adult attractions around.

It was the perfect setup, really. A few enclosed fireplaces were scattered around the otherwise empty court, making it the perfect place for little fillies and colts to frolic and exhaust their mind-boggling nighttime energies. A big statue enticed the little ones, glittering like a million stars and granting drained parents the opportunity to slip away briefly and follow the beckon of the adjoining ring of summer bars. The big coconut bar’s faux jungle masks grinned greedily at their newest catch of carnally satiated colosseum survivors.

“Wanna go watch?” Magnolia said.

“You’d like that, huh?” Circuit giggled, directed toward the little foal on his back. The steady beat of percussion instruments came lively from beyond the management building, and little Scout was all giddy to get to the bottom of the enchanting tune.

Terry watched the little being flail his limbs with utmost fascination. The tiny clothes he wore were not unlike the pretty garments in her dolly bag.

“Bluh ...” was all that came out of Scootaloo’s mouth. She had attempted to take part in the conversation, but Fluttershy had absentmindedly begun nuzzling the top of her head, sending a pleasurable shiver down between her ears. Whatever she had been thinking of just now couldn’t have been as important as the electric buzz caused by Fluttershy’s probing muzzle grazing around the base of her ear.

Terry observed Scootaloo, hanging entranced in her mommy’s forelegs, the pacifier contentedly bobbing in her mouth.

Terry regarded Circuit, carrying the tiny little Scout on his back. Dressed in pretty little clothes and truly reliant on the bigger pony to take care of him. Just like a real little doll.

“Can I carry Scootaloo, Miss Fluttershy?” Terry said, bouncing eagerly, “I’ll be very careful with her, I promise. We’ll go see the marching band. Can I?”

Fluttershy waited for Scootaloo to respond, but soon realized the pile of putty in her hooves wasn’t going to. “I think she would like that,” Fluttershy cooed, “It would be a nice break from all the fighting. Wouldn’t that be nice, Scootaloo? A bit of music?”

“Uwuh,” Scootaloo said.

“That was a yes, I’m sure,” Terry said.

Scootaloo changed hooves. First, she was being held under the forelegs, which always tickled a bit, and then she lost the ground under her hooves as she was hoisted up on Terry’s back. Terry was really good at this, not once in the smooth process was Scootaloo at risk of slipping, and she could promptly feel Terry’s wings at her knees, subtly keeping her in balance.

“All set back there?” Terry said.

“Your mane’s so pretty,” Scootaloo said. Indeed, Terry’s curly locks shone almost like the gilded statue itself.

“Uh ... thanks,” Terry said, “so, where’s that marching band again?”

“They’re back at the entrance, but they’ll come through the plaza,” Magnolia said, “we should go get some spots over there in the middle, those are the closest.”

“Great idea,” Victory beamed, “you guys go ahead. We’ll be waiting right over here, by the bar table. Come on, Fluttershy, let’s go.”

“Um,” Fluttershy said, but she was already being dragged off to meet the jungle masks.

Riding somepony else is amazing fun. Scout could attest to that, he bounced around and squealed in delight as the friends ambled into the plaza. Sure, Scootaloo had ridden Fluttershy on the way here, but that had been by necessity. Being carried on Terry’s back was obviously not necessity, since Scootaloo, unlike Scout, could already walk on her own. Still, it was pretty cool not to have to. Terry was big and strong, and she seemed more than a little eager to have somepony to watch over, as she constantly looked back to make sure Scootaloo was still there. So why not indulge her?

“Didn’t you literally just carry Scootaloo in and out of the colosseum?” Circuit said.

“Yeah, so?” Terry said.

“Nothing, I’m just wondering why it’s suddenly such a big deal,” Circuit said.

“Well, technically, there were no fillies allowed in the colosseum, so I didn’t officially have her with me back then,” Terry said, “but she’s very officially my little filly now. Besides, she looks kind of precious, even though she’s not even the smallest of us.”

“Hey!” Magnolia said, “I’m bigger than Scootaloo.”

“You sure about that?” Terry said.

“Yeah I’m sure. Look,” Magnolia said. She reared up on her hind legs and stood right next to Terry, so that she was as upright as Scootaloo.

“Huh?” Scootaloo said. She had been fully engaged with Terry’s locks, but now she looked up, and straight at Magnolia’s nose.

“I stand corrected,” Terry said, “I guess you’re the smallest filly of us, Scootaloo.”

“Told ya,” Magnolia said with satisfaction, “and soon I’m gonna outgrow you guys, too.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Terry said, but she let Magnolia happily lead on regardless.

Scootaloo tried to pay attention to the conversation, but Terry’s locks were just so incredibly funny. Every time she pulled one out, it bounced back into place immediately. They were so smooth and perfectly brushed, Scootaloo couldn’t imagine keeping her own mane like that. She’d have to brush every day. Maybe even twice! How did Terry do it?

And how did Scout do it? He wasn’t distracted by Circuit’s intriguingly red mane whatsoever, he comfortably held on to the bigger pony’s back like the most natural thing in the world. In fact, he twisted and turned to marvel at all the other ponies and everything that went on around him without restraint.

Scootaloo’s situation was a bit different, though. Circuit, being an infant, obviously had a diaper on under his trousers, but he was too little to understand, or care about, its state of usage. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was very much aware of her own underwear’s condition, and it became all the more apparent as the movement of Terry’s shoulders kneaded the squishy moist bulk against her rear with every step. Scootaloo was glad that her skirt had ridden down between her hind legs and created a buffer to sit on, she’d hate to sully Terry’s pretty dress with her thoroughly used diaper.

“Whoa, it’s so high,” Magnolia said.

They’d stopped at one of the big bonfires. It was several times higher than themselves, and released pretty streams of embers into the night sky. Despite its size, it wasn’t particularly hot, feeling more like a pleasant warm blanket than a punctual source of heat. The fire was enclosed in a metal cage, but little ponies were standing all around, actually touching the metal and comforting themselves on the flame.

“Hey, it’s not even hot,” Circuit said, testing the cage before letting Scout at it.

“The grating’s pretty small,” Terry said, “I wonder how they fuel the fire.”

“Astute observation, young pony,” the attendant said. Apparently, even the lowly labourers got to wear fancy drapings with Choir insignias on them. “This is a magical fire. It burns much slower and at a much more even rate, and it can go many hours without needing to be refueled. The fire is kept in check by specially enchanted crystals from the Crystal Empire far in the north, who used them for thousands of years. Go ahead, you can let her touch it. It’s not hot.”

Terry got closer to the cage and let Scootaloo run her hoof over the metal. The flames almost touched her skin, and yet she only felt a slight tingle pulling on her senses. What a funny feeling!

“You like that, huh?” Circuit said as the two foals giggled in unison.

“You know what else they’ll like?” the attendant said, “Listen.”

Everypony listened. Even Scout got all quiet, but when a crisp and happy little tune penetrated the noise of countless jubilating foals, he was the first to take notice and squirm and wiggle in its direction.

“Is that ... somepony playing a song?” Circuit said.

“Yes, that’s the piper,” the attendant said, “He has a little space for dancing especially for foals, just like your two. See where all those ponies are gathering? Why don’t you go check it out?”

“That sounds so cute!” Terry said, “What are we waiting for?”

“Seriously? A foal dance?” Magnolia groaned.

“Oh, stop complaining,” Terry said, “We went to your big bad magic fight. Now, it’s time we do things my way.”

“Fine,” Magnolia said, rolling her eyes.

Again they were on the move, and still Scootaloo couldn’t shake that distant sensation of discomfort. Scout merrily rode on Circuit’s back and bounced every which way without care, and for all intents and purposes, Scootaloo was a little foal same as him. However, it was no use denying that she had a specific problem to deal with that he didn’t.

Scootaloo was beginning to need the bathroom again, and the need rapidly grew in immediacy. Too bad she’d had all that juice earlier, because it pushed her little game to its limits all the sooner. The diaper Scootaloo wore was meant for little babies, and the thorough soaking she had given it earlier in the evening had pretty much maxed out its capacities. There was no way it would hold up through another use, and that wasn’t a risk Scootaloo could take, especially not while sitting on Terry’s back. She was left with no choice other than to hold it back and to wait for a quiet moment to take care of the problem discreetly.

“Oh, excuse me please, miss,” a small filly with a big bow on her tail said. She had bumped into Terry’s leg while dancing backwards.

“Not to worry, little one,” Terry said, “could you show us where the foals can go to dance?”

“Sure,” the filly said, “it’s over there, right in front of the piper.”

The piper was an older stallion with a flute, sitting on the ground near one of the fires. Despite its small size, the flute produced incredibly loud and clear sounds, which were fabricated into a light and chipper tune by the piper’s skilled hooves. It was impossible not to love that sound, Scout promptly began squealing in glee, and Scootaloo also began feeling invigorated by the silly little melodies and random staccato highlights that had the surrounding foal crowd bouncing and cheering in unison.

“But you have to hold her by the hooves,” the filly with the bow said, “because foals can’t dance on their own, and they could fall down.”

“Thank you, we will keep it in mind,” Terry said.

The dance floor was really pretty. Most other foals wore neat clothes, bows, hats, booties and any other apparel that could be fit on them, and the adults had no qualms about exhibiting their little ones in a blatant unspoken fashion competition. Everypony was proud how well their offspring could follow the tunes and look stylish at it, while the foals were having a blast on the dance floor. Scout fit in perfectly with his subtle little dress shirt and pants with triple stitched seams, Circuit was more than willing to enter him into the rankings.

“Alright, Scootaloo, time to dance,” Terry said.

“Time to dance?” Scootaloo said, “Since when did you get to decide?”

“Oh, don’t be such a foal,” Terry said, “besides, weren’t you the one who showed me how to dance in the first place?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “but that was a fun dance, just for giggles, not something serious like this.”

Scootaloo was dismounted from Terry’s back, but when she was put on the ground, Terry didn’t let go of her forehooves. Terry had a massive grin plastered all over her face as she held Scootaloo upright and nodded her to go on.

“At least you’re enjoying yourself,” Scootaloo said.

“Up, up, Scootaloo,” Terry said, “Look how much fun the other foals are having.”

The piper’s flute had a simple tune it kept repeating, not more than a few notes, over and over again, giving the foals ample time to get used to the general tempo and mood. It never got boring, though, because the old stallion regularly mixed in rapid highlights and mismatched tones, raising his flute into the air as the foals synchronously jumped at the signal. His technique worked wonders, every youngling in the circle enthusiastically took part in the game, no matter if pony, zebra, griffin, deer or otherwise. Even Scout had figured out his role within moments, and he was excitedly dancing alongside Circuit as naturally as if he had been doing it his whole life.

Scootaloo carefully broadened into a ready stance, steadying herself against Terry’s hooves. The flute was relentless in its excited twittering, and as soon as it began repeating its cycle, Scootaloo leapt into action.

She stepped to one side and shifted her weight over to step back in the other direction, but the piper switched tunes again before she had finished, and Scootaloo stumbled over her own hind legs and fell onto her rear.

“Oh my gosh, Scootaloo, are you alright?” Terry said.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “just let me try this again.”

If Scout and the baby griffin beside Scootaloo could do the dance, then so could she. Scootaloo got up and got ready again, this time for real. When the moment came, Scootaloo began dancing, faster and more concentrated than before to make sure she could keep up with the piper’s speed.

It would have worked too, Scootaloo managed to step back and forth in rhythm with the others. But she hadn’t anticipated the short burst staccato from the flute, the suddenness of which demanded the utmost flexibility. Scootaloo tried hopping from one side to the other, but when she stood upright and attempted to turn, it was actually the bulk of her saggy diaper that forced her knees apart and hindered her movement too much. She lost balance and fell onto her rump again.

Somepony giggled, and Scootaloo quickly pulled her skirt down to cover the soggy thing under her tail. But the baby griffin was simply amused about Scootaloo’s contortions.

“Poor Scootaloo,” Terry gasped.

“Don’t be disheartened, little filly,” mommy griffin said. She was an impressive presence, bigger than Terry and gilded in silks and jewelry, yet her sharp claws held her toddler’s tiny limbs with the utmost courtesy. “You must not try to pull away from your big sister like that. Why don’t you try getting snuggly with her?”

Scootaloo got up again and touched hooves with Terry, but this time she leaned into her, their faces almost touching. How exactly was this was going to make things better?

“Don’t overthink it, just relax,” the griffin said, “why doesn’t big sister make a silly face for you?”

“A silly face?” Terry said, “How do I do that?”

“You don’t even know how to make a silly face?” Scootaloo said, “Here, look.”

To demonstrate her point, Scootaloo crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Her pacifier promptly tumbled to the ground. Oops.

“Careful, Scootaloo,” Terry giggled. She reached over, picked up the pacifier and plopped it back into Scootaloo’s mouth. “We’re lucky it landed on its dry side, huh?”

Terry smiled, and Scootaloo couldn’t help doing the same. It was kind of cool how attentive Terry was. She always held Scootaloo so securely and made sure everything was alright with her. Why had Scootaloo worried so much when in reality there had been nothing to worry about?

“A silly face, you say?” Terry said, “Let me give it a try.”

She pursed her lips and flared her nose in a bizarre grimace, emphasizing the fact that she was unable to cross her eyes.

“Stop! Stop,” Scootaloo laughed, “that’s terrible!”

“Terrible, huh?” Terry smirked, “Then why are you laughing?”

Scootaloo was giggling on end, but not only because of Terry’s expressive experiments. The moment just made her feel so free of care, because obviously Terry no longer cared either, and Scootaloo found the laughter of the other foals more infectious than she had anticipated. And, amazingly, so was their rhythm! Scootaloo had barely noticed, but she was wiggling her backside perfectly in tune with everypony else.

“There you go, Scootaloo,” Terry cheered.

“This is so cool!” Scootaloo said.

She didn’t dare think about what she was doing. It was going so well! The piper’s little melody animated her hind legs to hop around effortlessly, and Scootaloo found herself following its call. It was like her hind legs moved on their own!

Terry was obviously enjoying it too, proudly brandishing her own little dancer with a huge grin on her face. The baby gryffin caught up to Scootaloo’s flow and danced along, as did Scout and Circuit, and Magnolia with the bow filly. Everypony was having so much fun, and Scootaloo was right in the middle!

“Seems like our newcomers found the ropes,” the piper said. His voice was impressively loud for how old he was. “What do you think, everypony? Should we give them a warm welcome? Let’s show them the crazy dance!”

“Yay!” everypony applauded. “Crazy dance!”

The piper’s flute had barely quieted down before it sprung to life again, but this time, it threw all rhyme and reason to the wind. True to its name, the crazy dance song changed its arrhythmic melody more quickly than seemed possible, the piper working magic with his hooves, and the result was an absurdly fast twittering that sounded like several melodies interwoven, going up and down, up and down, faster and slower, louder and ever louder.

But the flute’s tone was still drowned out by the excited squeals and jubilations from the foalish bedlam on the dance floor. The adults held their little ones upright as they flailed and frolicked every which way, animated laughter underlining the chaos of little limbs and tails.

It was no use trying to contain it, the random melody had taken hold of Scootaloo, and she couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out as she followed it with equally random dancing, always just a hair’s breadth from tipping over thanks to Terry’s stabilizing pulls. The bigger pony was similarly bereft of her balance despite not even dancing, but holding a real foal in her hooves had Terry so giddy with excitement, her own little treasure, more precious than the most intricate of dollies, making her equal to all the other mommies and daddies around the place, imperishable shepherds of their ecstatic little flock.

And so, the two of them danced the crazy dance.

Scootaloo’s compatriots soon began to fall, first the baby gryffin, who landed on her claws and rolled over on her back to giggle, then Scout, losing his hooves under himself and landing softly on his rear. Scootaloo herself had no choice but to follow, too flimsy was the pretense of restraint. She hopped in place and twisted around, and let herself fall onto her rear, barely registering the cushy landing as she pulled Terry down for a hug, their necks moving in unison against each other as the two of them giggled.

Sure, they were being silly, but it didn’t feel crazy at all.

The piper stopped abruptly. “Seems that’s about all the time we have,” he said, “the big show’s coming through.”

The silence was jarring at first, but pretty soon, something else sounded through. Something entirely unexpected. A beat. A rhythm. Regular! Orderly! Not crazy.

The marching band! The realization rippled across the wide-eyed little faces, and a miniature stampede broke out as everypony tried to make their way to the far end of the plaza. And indeed! Through the gate of the administrative building came a row of ponies, perfectly in line.

And what a sight they were! Flag carriers, wearing elaborate uniforms with the most excessive of headdresses, the feathery decorated pomp of which put everything Scootaloo had seen so far into the shadow. Wings outstretched, their feather- and shoulderguards gleamed with countless tiny buttons. No, those were insignias, so many different symbols, each and every one --

“Oof,” Scootaloo was yanked back by her tail, “hey!”

“Hey yourself,” Terry said around Scootaloo’s tail, “I’m still in charge, remember? I said I’d look after you, so no running off.”

“But the marching band!” Scootaloo said, “Can we go closer please?”

“Sure, just hop on,” Terry said. Scootaloo scrambled to climb on her back, until a wing curled around Scootaloo’s haunches, and lifted her up onto the increasingly familiar place behind Terry’s curly locks.

There weren’t only ponies among the flag carriers, not even just pegasus ponies. Behind the first row marched another block unicorns and earth ponies, all bearing the pennant depicting the Canoness’ black raven form, increasingly interspersed with all manners of different folk, many gryphons and some diamond dogs, but Scootaloo also spotted dragons of different sizes, catfolk and a hippogriff. The horseshoes and decorative spurs were marvellous, gleaming in the fiery light as the band marched across the cobble in unison, clack, clack, clack, as if they had mixed cannon fire into their song.

Despite their impeccability and the uniforms, the didn’t seem military at all, but more like a coherent gathering of like minded individuals, driven by the common ideas they so proudly paraded, the Choir’s values of progress, productivity and profit. The music was strange yet familiar. The snare drums beat a simple two-four, the volume of which had Terry folding her ears, and were accompanied by a rather shrill, but strangely enticing, melody from the trumpets (Scootaloo had to hold Terry’s ears shut), and a very big pony with a very big tuba brought up the finish, which was not particularly in tune, but very loud. Poor Terry.

Scootaloo enjoyed the whole process immensely, as did all the other ponies on the sidelines, marching along with the band all the way around and then to the center of the plaza. The last to arrive was a distinctly different group, a throng of smaller, and much younger, little ponies dressed in fine clothes, though only few of them seemed pleased with the fact. Blazers were too small, dresses too stiff, ties too tight, and, worst of all, everypony was watching them as they were being led by an older mare ...
“Wait!” Scootaloo said, “I know her! That’s the conductress! From the church.”

“Who?” Terry said.

“And her young pony singing group!” Scootaloo said, “I know those ponies. Please, Terry, you have to let me go over to them!”

Scootaloo was barely set down and she quickly toddled over to the singers. She felt a bit out of place, wearing her grubby jacket and plain skirt instead of fine robes, but all the wider grew her grin when the conductress recognized her, and waved her over to take place on the side, among some of the other singers. Scootaloo was part of this group, and what a group it was! It had been so cool back in the church. Could it be ... ?

The audience had grown quiet, at least relatively so, and everypony was at their place. The conductress raised her robed hooves and silently mouthed a countdown. The song began.

“The wanderer was alone, he carried his scraps and a bundle of wood ...”

Yes! It was her favourite song! Scootaloo sprang forth and vigorously sang along.

“ ... but he had no fire, for the night was so dark and he was so cold.”

She loved this story. How the ponies met by chance, but then they worked together. And they built something out of nothing, because they treated each other fair. It got better and better.

“The powderer was alone, he had his bottles and lint and boxes of flash, but freeze he did, and see he could naught, since he did not have coal.”

The song progressed. Discoveries were made, alliances were forged. The ponies in the ensemble got a bit quieter, but that only spurred Scootaloo on. Everypony deserved to revel in the splendour of this great story.

“The wanderer and the powderer met, and they exchanged what they had, built a pyre so high, from distant they came, warm light for all.”

Ponies came in droves, the settlement was made, prosperity flourished. The singers became quieter still, stumbled over their words. They had forgotten their lines. Scootaloo had to help remind them, so she sung loud and clear.

“The families joined with hoof and quill, the night so warm and the dawn so bright, plough and board, word and heart, for the ways of old were gone.”

The settlement turned into a market and then a town and then a city. This was the best part, because mutual respect and fairness had built a grand monument. And it never stopped. Such was the power of friendship! The chorus had grown still, but Scootaloo blasted on.

“The wanderer and the powderer sat, on the thoroughfare lush and full, ne’er brass nor pride, for all was right, let this story be told.”

Silence.

The audience erupted into cheers, the applause so intense, Scootaloo thought she could feel the cobbles vibrate. Even the singers were applauding her, and the conductress couldn’t decide between relief and satisfied smugness. There were her friends, Terry, Circuit and Magnolia, cheering for her.

“You go, Scootaloo,” Magnolia called.

“Dude, that was awesome,” the colt next to Scootaloo said.

“Thanks,” Scootaloo said.

“How many times did you sing that song?” he said, “I only ever saw you at practice once.”

“Well, uh ... that one time I was at the church,” Scootaloo said, “I thought the song was really cool.”

The colt blinked. “Seriously?” he said, “You learned the entire song from singing it one time?”

“Hey!” Scootaloo said, “I didn’t learn anything. I was having fun. That’s different.”

The colt shrugged. There was no more time for conversation, as the next choral began. Scootaloo obviously couldn’t contribute much since she hadn’t heard this song before, but it gave her the chance to blend a bit more into the background, stepping behind somepony else who sang particularly vigorously. Soon, the marching band joined in and provided a small musical backdrop to enhance the fillies’ and colts’ singing, and Scootaloo thought it worked really well, as she worked her way further back. She reached the back row before the song ended and finally managed to slip away unnoticed.

She needed to escape. This was it. She could take no more of the discomfort.

Scootaloo needed a bathroom, and she needed it now.

The call of nature had been there for a while, but Scootaloo had thought she could will it away, led herself to believe it would cease if she just ignored it hard enough. She’d been having so much fun with her friends, such a cool time hanging around at the fair, she’d wished she’d never have to take care of her problem at all. But of course she did. The need had grown more and more urgent to the point where it began to be painful, and no amount of shifting her weight and walking on the tips of her hooves would change it.

Scootaloo had found herself pressing her hind legs together in an attempt to physically support her aching tummy, but it was an exercise in futility, the bulging mass of sagging plastic between her thighs barely permitting her to touch her knees together, let alone for Scootaloo’s desperate efforts to have any noticeable effects.

In fact, she only made things worse, the diaper’s soggy, supple pulp now squeezed firmly against her rear end, constantly tantalizing her as she moved. It’s so soft and thick. Just use it. Just relax. It’s all moist and soggy anyway. And after wearing it for hours, things probably didn’t smell like roses either back there. What difference would it make at this point? Come on. Just do it. It’d be so easy.

It was a nice fantasy. But that’s what it was. A fantasy. In reality, the poor baby diaper around Scootaloo’s hindquarters stood no chance. In reality, she was a grown pony, and the diaper had already been used before. There was no way it would be able to provide enough absorbency. It’d overflow, and she’d get herself and her clothes wet, and leave marks on the ground, and it would be terrible. And Fluttershy would have to deal with it. That was most terrible of all.

Scootaloo cursed the fact that she’d had so much to drink. She cursed the diaper for being made for foals instead of her. But most of all, she cursed herself for disappointing Fluttershy. Fluttershy had put in so much effort into their little game, taken such good care of Scootaloo to make her feel like a little filly. And Scootaloo had botched it. She had allowed something disgusting to be about to happen, something that would inconvenience her beloved Fluttershy so. Scootaloo couldn’t let it happen. She had to find an out. She had to take off the diaper and take care of the problem the adult way. Even though it meant her fantasy would all be over.

There were few ponies behind the buildings. Scootaloo had just followed where the fewest ponies went, away from the lively streets, so nopony would see her desperate stiff-legged waddle. Where were the restrooms? It was so dark. And there seemed to be fewer houses whatsoever, the ground had turned earthen and sometimes even muddy. There were a bunch of trees and bushes ahead. Uh oh, this was a green area, not a public service building.

Had she come the wrong way? But there were still ponies around. In fact, they were standing on the grass. A whole row of different creatures, anxiously looking toward a dense cluster of vegetation. Were they standing in line? For a bush? But why would --

“Well, well, well,” a female voice said, “who do we have here? Aren’t you the famous little filly from the colosseum? With the big strong celebrity friends?”

“What are you doing out here?” another voice said, “You look kind of lost.”

It was Scootaloo’s fan club. The young mare with the jingling earrings, and her companion, who had so many extensions tacked into her mane, she looked almost like a colorful upside down mop. They had been so eager to get a piece of Scootaloo back in the arena, she was surprised they hadn’t tracked her down earlier.

The mop was starting to look concerned.

“You aren’t lost, are you?” she said, “Do you know where your mommy is?”

“Um, yes, she’s back there,” Scootaloo said, “I’m not lost.”

“Good,” earrings grinned, “wouldn’t want a cutie such as yourself get lost in the dark, now would we? Especially somepony with cute little cheeks such as yours.” She reached over and gave Scootaloo’s cheek just a little pinch. Scootaloo would have complained, but she was busy painfully squeezing her hind legs together.

“Oh my gosh,” mop said, going to town on Scootaloo’s other cheek, “I wish I could have skin this soft. What do you think the girls would say?”

“They’d be, like, so envious,” earrings said, “If we took her with us. Just look at her adorable little glitter dummy.”

“I, umm ...” Scootaloo said. She tried to evade the hooves probing for her pacifier, but she failed, and her pacifier ring was successfully flicked, “I was just, uh, wondering what those ponies are standing there for.”

The two mares looked at the waiting line, and then erupted into squealing laughter. “You are so precious,” earrings said.

“Yeah,” mop said, “why, don’t you know what this is, little filly?”

“Um,” Scootaloo said, “no?”

“These ponies are all here for the same reason,” mop said, “to go behind that bush.”

Earrings came close and whispered, “That’s the latrine.”

Oh. That made sense. It was dark, and a bush was still better than nothing. But that meant ... the mud that Scootaloo had been walking through ...

“Eww!” Scootaloo said. The two mares broke out into uncontrollable giggles.

“Yeah, it’s not the place a precious little filly such as you wants to be,” mop said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Nor does it look like she needs to,” earrings snickered, pointing toward Scootaloo’s rear.

Scootaloo quickly turned her backside away from them, earning another adoring pair of giggles. She could feel her underwear sagging beneath the hem of her skirt.

“Um, maybe ...” Scootaloo said, “maybe you could help me? I was kinda ... looking for the restroom.”

Their eyes couldn’t have bulged any further, before the two mares broke out into laughter so gleeful, even some of the ponies in line turned to look.

“Oh my gosh, that’s just too cute,” earrings said. The hooves were at it again, playing with Scootaloo’s ears, ruffling her mane.

“Look, filly,” mop said, “why don’t you just go back to your mommy?”

“It’s kind of urgent,” Scootaloo pleaded, pressing a hoof between her hind legs.

“You’re a good filly,” earrings sighed, “but you worry too much. Little fillies shouldn’t need to worry. This is festival night. You just enjoy yourself. Your mommy seems to have taken care of things, didn’t she?”

“You think so?” mop said, “Shouldn’t we help her with the bathroom?”

“Why?” earrings said, “She seems to be all set. Didn’t you see what she has under her skirt?”

“Yeah,” mop said, “Uh, newsflash? Fillies aren’t supposed to go in their training panties.”

“She’s not wearing training panties,” earrings rolled her eyes.

“Yes she is,” mop said.

“Is she?” earrings said.

“Isn’t she?” mop said.

“Uh, filly, are you wearing training panties?” earrings said.

Scootaloo couldn’t stop the conversation from escalating. She had to go so bad. She had no more attention left to do anything but look at them in confusion.

They stepped closer. “May we look?” earrings said.

Scootaloo nodded. Anything to get this torture over with.

She took the hem of the skirt from Scootaloo’s hoof and curiously lifted it up all the way. The two mares giggled.

“Okay, you’re right,” earrings said, “those are definitely not training panties.”

That much was clear. Nothing about the crinkly white plastic wrapped around Scootaloo’s butt, holding in place lavish mounds of fluffy absorbency right where it was needed the most, left open any question about its purpose. And the point was only driven home by the soft and comfy ruffles around the leg elastics, and the cute little drawings of baby blue clouds and swirls along the side, framing the image of the grinning cartoon bunny. Despite the dire situation, at least he was in good spirits.

But what stuck out to Scootaloo the most wasn’t any of that, it was just the tiny glimpse of sturdy, broad, blue plastic on her sides, before the mare lowered her skirt again. The diaper tapes. The very same tapes Fluttershy had fastened around Scootaloo’s hips earlier in the evening.

Those tapes were the lynchpin of a diaper, were what made it all work. So small, yet so important. They were what sealed the diaper in place, what kept it exactly where it needed to be, sturdy enough to never come undone prematurely. Or, indeed, the foal wouldn’t take it off herself, because she was supposed to stay in the diaper, and the diaper would take care of the foal’s needs.

Fluttershy had known exactly what she did. Foals were wrapped up in diapers because they didn’t know any better than to just go when nature called. That’s what they were supposed to do. That was the only responsibility Scootaloo had. How incredibly silly would it be to think otherwise?

“Well, that settles it, sugar,” earrings let go of Scootaloo’s skirt and smoothed it down with a hoof, soft crinkles from under the fabric.

“You’d better scurry on,” mop said, “go back to your mommy.”

“B-but ...” Scootaloo said, “but I need to go ...”

“Sweetie,” earrings sighed, “I told you, you worry too much. You just go and have some fun. Your mommy already took care of things, didn’t she? Do you trust your mommy, little filly?”

“Yes,” Scootaloo said, “I trust my mommy.”

“That’s a good filly,” mop giggled, “And do you love your mommy?”

“Yes!” Scootaloo said, “I love my mommy very much!”

“There you go,” earrings said, and winked, “Don’t worry. We won’t tell anypony, okay? Now go on. I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” She patted Scootaloo’s behind. Crinkle. “Go on!”

Scootaloo couldn’t catch up. Everything was happening so fast. She was already walking between buildings, back toward the plaza. And before she knew it, she felt the tingle of anticipation in her tummy. Her body was getting ready to release, and it didn’t seem like Scootaloo was getting any say in the matter.

Nor did she want to. This was what was supposed to happen, it was normal for every foal to relieve herself where she stood, and that was also true for Scootaloo. Because she was a foal. She was Fluttershy’s little filly, there were no two ways about it. Scootaloo had tried, and failed, to apply grown-up logic to the situation just moments earlier. How silly of her! No wonder her solution hadn’t been any good.

Scootaloo trusted Fluttershy more than anypony else, and that’s why she knew everything was going to be alright. She didn’t actually wear anything to cover her diaper, so it was probably just going to be dripping on the floor, maybe into her boots. And the floor was already yucky enough, so it was fine. Scootaloo’s urge flared, the impending relief a pleasant buzz between her ears.

Scootaloo was excited. She stood and spread her hind legs slightly to get more comfy, and she suckled on her pacifier to calm herself down. The rubber teat was extra yummy today, gently pleasing Scootaloo’s lips and softly playing around her tongue as she munched on it. Nuk, nuk, nuk, it went. And Scootaloo (finally!) got to go tinkle.

A shudder ran down Scootaloo’s back as she began emptying herself straight into her clothing. The hot liquid spilled all over her buttocks, soaking her skin and into her fur, as it immediately oversaturated the diaper’s superabsorbent core and began pooling inside the watertight plastic underwear.

“Mmh... ahh,” Scootaloo groaned. She didn’t even care anymore, awash with overwhelming relief, she just stood completely still, relishing the sensation as her overfull belly got lighter and lighter, reveling in the much needed respite. Scootaloo just suckled on, the pacifier’s plastic shield soft and comforting against her lips, as the fresh warm urine mingled with the stale old pee underneath her tail.

“Everything alright over there?”

“Hey, don’t interrupt her, that’s rude,” earrings reprimanded mop.

Oh no. Scootaloo had been standing with her tail raised right in their direction. It was super obvious what she was doing. She quickly lowered her tail and tucked it between her hind legs.

Oh no! You can’t have your tail between your legs when you pee! Roused by her subconscious, Scootaloo pulled her tail out from between her legs again and kind of left it halfway in the air, but that made her instinctively crouch down just a bit, slightly squishing the soaking warm pulp more tightly against her skin. Great. Now everypony could tell.

But Scootaloo didn’t care. It felt so good. She was completely relaxed, just letting her body do its thing. It felt so right. Just going potty at her own pace. And the diaper handled it remarkably well, the warm liquid crept to the diaper’s front first, completely soaking the fur on Scootaloo’s lower belly from side to side, but then the diaper began distributing the excess fluid in the other direction, getting everything drenched up Scootaloo’s hindquarters, even past her tail and a bit up her back.

And then, a realization crept up on her. Her diaper was completely full, flooded to the point of saturation. The pooling urine had risen until it stood to the top, waiting to be absorbed as the diaper worked off its new payload, only contained by the twin warm lines of the elastic bands around her legs. But this was exactly what the diaper was built for. No more than a few drops had snuck past the triple ruffled leak guards, merely moistening the insides of her thighs.

But other than that, the diaper held. No leaks.

Scootaloo was speechless. It was a diaper made for babies. And it served her perfectly well, even as she patiently waited for the last bit of pee to trickle out.

She was finished. The diaper held.

Scootaloo stood up from her crouch, paying no special attention to being careful. The diaper sagged, but it sat perfectly snug. She wanted to go see her friends, so she began walking in their direction, no second thought given, just like every other little filly or colt in this world. The diaper got squished and kneaded around between her thighs, already now swollen beyond belief and constantly growing still, squeezing out a bit of liquid and absorbing it somewhere else.

But the diaper held. It was perfectly suited for the careless waddle Scootaloo had grown so comfortable with.

She couldn’t wait to get back and rejoin the fun. Nuk, nuk, nuk. Oh, just one last thing.

“Thanks!” Scootaloo waved back to the two mares standing in line.

She got two waves and giggles in turn.