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Hello and happy 2026! It's been a while since I've posted anything in these parts, my last story being Intimism which was completed, oh boy, a year ago. Look, 2025 was a bit of a slow year for me, let's not dwell on that (although my blog might have a couple short stories that didn't make it onto this website....). But I'm back with an all new story, the first two chapters of which we'll be posting today! This story is based off of a prompt I received on my short story suggestion post over on Bluesky, but, well, it's not really that short, as you'll discover if you read on. This one kind of grabbed me by the masks and forced me to give it some proper length, what I can say. I'll be updating this one pretty frequently due to its structure, the diaper stuff is kind of backloaded into the final third of the story. Until then, though, I hope you enjoy the story and these characters! Thank you for reading! --- ‘I really picked a beautiful night for this.’ That’s what occurs to you as you admire the atmosphere around you. A full moon is hanging up above. There’s a breeze rolling through, cooling the warm summer night just enough that your cloak and your gear don’t feel too heavy on your shoulders. What’s even nicer than the weather is the view, you’ve always loved the view this tower has. The castle courtyard to one side and a sparkling lake just outside the walls, to the other side. It really is picturesque. You’ve seen it many times before, of course, but tonight….you don’t know why. You just can’t help but take an extra moment to admire it. You really wish you could just take moments like this and put them in your pocket. Well. Enough waxing poetic. You grip the rope currently tied to your waist to steady yourself, then continue scaling down the tower wall until you’re next to a window. Then, with your free hand, you grab a pick and start jimmying the window’s lock. The lock comes undone quickly and you lightly reach over to pull open the window - you almost climb right inside, but you stop for a second and thoughtfully rub your chin. You casually lean back and plant your feet on the wall of the tower, then you undo one of your boots. You take the boot and toss it through the now open window. You hear a splash from below. You can’t see quite that far in the dark, but you’re pretty sure your boot is now heading for the bottom of the lake. She really doesn’t think much of you, does she? If you were the easily offended type, this would really strike at you. You produce a switchblade and a small pouch, taking a pinch of glowing blue dust from the latter and sprinkling it over the former. The now enchanted knife easily cuts through the teleportation charm that had been woven into the window. Or, rather, the gap of space that existed between the inside and outside once the window was open. You blow the dust off of your blade, sending it and the charm off on the wind, then clamber inside. No surprises once you’re inside. A gigantic four-poster bed in one corner with the canopy currently drawn around its sleeping occupant. A bookshelf with a variety of dusty old tomes on the wall opposite the bed. A desk with yet more books and notes strewn about it. A vanity before a mirror with a myriad of make-ups, perfumes and busts wearing all kinds of jewelry. You spare the bed half a glance to make sure the occupant isn’t moving behind that canopy. Once you’re satisfied, you slide a small half-mask over the bottom of your face, covering your nose and mouth. You take in a deep breath and hold it, then you walk towards the vanity. You snag a necklace off of a bust, then start opening everything that opens. You find rings, earrings, brooches, which you grab at random. Your steps and movements make no noise. The jingle of the jewelry as it leaves its drawers and boxes and the clatter as it all drops into your sack never comes. A moment later and you’ve taken half of the glittering baubles here and made them your own. Your hand grabs a tiara off of a bust, but you pause for a second. You glance at the mirror, seeing the silver tiara, diamonds embedded in its front and your own cloaked figure and the gloves hands holding it. You glance back at the bed and its sleeping occupant. You roll your eyes and toss the tiara back on the desk where it silently jumps up and down a bit before settling. You walk away from the vanity. You don’t consider snatching any of the cosmetics (too likely to break in transit and get all over the jewels, not to mention your good satchel) or the books (can be valuable, but such a pain in the ass to find the right buyer for this dusty-ass tome or that one. Also, really heavy). So there’s not much of value left here for you after raiding the vanity. …but before you head back out the window, you can’t help but pause as you see something on the other side of the room, an armoire, taller than yourself. It’s closed, but there’s a dress hanging on the front of it - clothes already picked for tomorrow, presumably. You’re really only interested in the shiny stuff, but…clothes can be valuable too. Made of precious fabrics, woven into something particular, bespoke, for only one person. You have to find the right buyer, but. Expensive people like expensive things, so there’s always a market for fancy clothes. They’re also a lot lighter than books. You walk over to the armoire and look over the dress, trying to assess its value just from sight, at first. You take the dress in your hand and take a closer look, just trying to figure out its condition, how much you can sell it for. Your eyes fall to the sleeves. You run your thumb over the pink fabric, down to the white lace at the edge of the sleeve. It takes a moment for you to realize you’ve been staring. You also realize that in the moment since you’ve become staring, someone has gotten behind you. You bite the inside of your cheek, inwardly cursing yourself for not keeping your wits about you. Your hand reaches down to your belt. You release the breath you’d been holding. Sound comes from your feet as you move and your hand as you grip your weapon tightly. You spin around in one motion, bringing up your club, ready to drop it on the head of whoever snuck up on you. Then…you let out a huff and your arm falls to your side. You roll your eyes and start to walk away. “…did I startle you?” The young woman, a cup of tea in one hand, a candle in the other, large spectacles over her eyes, dressed in a flowing nightgown, gives you a look as you walk away from her. You move over to the bed and throw the canopy open. When you came in, you thought you saw someone asleep in the bed. Upon further inspection, you are prepared to conclude that it is, in fact, a broom and a watermelon dressed in a nightgown. “Cute,” you growl at the young woman. “I do like to try and keep you on your toes,” she says, a mischievous smile curling onto her face as she sets the tea and the candle on her desk. “So you’re settin’ traps for me, now?” You ask. “If I was setting traps, I wouldn’t have used a watermelon.” She takes a book off of her bookshelf and sits down at her desk. “I’d have put a guard in there. And they would’ve given you such a beating by now.” She takes a sip of her tea. Her back is to you. You’re positive she knows you have half of her jewelry in your satchel, especially now that the sound is back and it’s bouncing around noisily in there. She’s nonetheless nonchalant at your presence. “Shyeah. You just wanted to spare your guard the beating,” you say dismissively. You’re already inching towards the window. She’s sitting at the desk with her back to you, no interest in apprehending you or notifying anyone of your presence, but you don’t want to push your luck. “That must be why,” she says, barely paying attention as she pores over her book. She glances at the dress hanging on her armoire, then finally half-turns her head to half-look at you. “Do you like it?” You stop halfway through the window when you realize what she’s asking. “What?” “The dress. Do you like it?” She asks again. “Why would I have an opinion on--” “Mother and Father are having a ball for the Summer Solstice. Mother had it made for me.” She stands up and walks over to the dress, picking it up and holding it over herself. “She says the color represents the long sunset. I told her in that case, shouldn’t it be more of a dusky orange, but she thinks pink brings out my hair better.” She absentmindedly runs a hand through her curly blond hair as she looks it over. She then looks at you. “What do you think. Does this color bring out my hair?” “I have absolutely no bloody idea,” you growl. You’re not sure why she’s asking you for fashion tips. You’re even more not sure why you’re standing here listening to her ask you for fashion tips. “Mmn.” She seems unbothered by your non-answer and hangs the dress back up. “Personally, I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair. Insofar as I’ve spent much mental energy on color coordination to begin with.” She goes back to her desk. “I’ve spent much more of my time on this, lately.” As much as you want to escape before somebody walks by and hears this conversation and as much as you do not care about the finer points of proper attire for Solstice Balls, you hesitate again to leave. “….on what?” You ask. You don’t step away from the window, but you do lean back in the direction of the princess and her desk, just a bit. Again, she half-looks back at you and again, you catch that mischievous little smile. She knows she’s piqued your interest. “I’ve just been researching something. A little piece of history that once belonged to another kingdom. It went unseen for so long that some academics consider it to be a…priceless treasure.” She paused for a second before letting those last two words hang in the air. This is the most obvious bait of all time… “What kinda treasure?” …and she’s got your hooked, good. Dammit. Now that she knows she’s got you, she picks up some things off the desk and practically skips over to you, her smile only getting bigger. “It’s a magical artifact from an old kingdom,” she explains, her eyes lighting up. She points at her book, then at some pictures she’s sketched in her own notes. “It was made by an old royal family, the head of which was a great spellcaster. The old research says it allowed the user to change themselves in whatever way they wished.” “That’s it?” You ask, feeling oddly disappointed. “Shapeshifting is expensive, but it ain’t legendary. Lotsa spellcasters can do that.” “That’s the thing. It’s not just shapeshifting.” She flips through the book. Even if the book was in any language you could read, she would be going too fast and too excitedly for you to read any of it. “The artifact wouldn’t just change you, it would change the world around you. Whatever changes you made for yourself, everybody around you would perceive them to be true.” Now you’ve gone from disappointed to confused. “That’s…impossible. So I could just tell someone-” “You could decide that you’re the princess that lives in this castle and this bedchamber belongs to you.” She gestures to the room around you. “If one of my guards walked in, they would believe it.” “…but you’re the princess, and this is your chamber,” you point out. “What would happen to you, would they suddenly think you were the one robbin’ the place?” You ask. You have to admit, that would be pretty funny. “Hm. It doesn’t say anything about swapping your old identity on to someone else,” she murmurs, looking at the book. “I suppose they would think both of us are the princess. I wonder how they would rationalize there only being one bed…” You fight the urge to roll your eyes again as you glance at her monstrosity of a bed, which could easily fit five people comfortably, muchless two. “Alright, well, when you figure it out, you write it all down and I’ll be sure to read it the next time I stop by,” you say. “You’re really not interested at all?” The princess asks, tilting her head. “The ability to change your whole identity with but a thought.” “What’m I supposed to be wantin’ to change about my identity?” You ask. She gives you a skeptical look for a moment. “I suppose I just took it for granted that this,” she gestures to her ransacked vanity with one hand and to your satchel, which holds most of her ransacked vanity, with the other. “Wasn’t what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing. Is plundering baubles really the sum of your ambition?” “Well, y’know, it’s not as exciting as robbing stage coaches, but I waste so much less time pickin’ arrows outta my butt,” you say nonchalantly as you brush your masked chin with the back of your hand. “I’ve thought about movin’ up to robbin’ dragons, but the thing is, they sleep on all their loot. Stuff’s more valuable, but washin’ that dragon stink off takes days.” “Ah, so it’s a matter of strict personal hygiene standards,” the princess says with a little giggle into her hand. “I understand completely.” She keeps staring at you for a moment. The smile on her face changes a bit. You look away. “What’re you starin’ at?” you grumble at her. “Well, unless you get your promotion to Dragon Burgling in the next couple months, I should have it one way or another.” The princess walks over towards her bed and starts shimmying her makeshift dummy out of her nightgown. “So if you change your mind and you’d like to see it on your next visit, just let the watermelon know when you get in.” “Right,” you grunt, sensing that she’s not going to bring anything up to try and keep you any longer. You’ve half-climbed out the window, when you stop and look back. “I thought you said this thing was lost, what do you mean you’ll have it in a couple weeks?” “Hm?” The princess looks back as if she’s surprised you’re still there. “Oh. Yes. Well, it had been unseen and unfound for quite a long time, but it was recently rediscovered. I’ve put in a royal petition to the owner to borrow it for research purposes.” “Right.” Petition. Borrow. Sounded like she was politely telling this person to hand it over or some royal soldiers would show up to throw them a face party where everybody’s knuckles were invited. “Who’s the unlucky shmuck who found it?” “The Witch Queen,” she says matter-of-factly and you almost fall out of the window right there. “The Witch Queen has it? And you’re just askin’ her for it?” You ask, unable to keep your laughter out of your voice. She doesn’t seem to notice your incredulity. “Yes, I think as a fellow academic, she’ll be all too willing to indulge my request,” the princess says. She takes the final sip of her tea and pulls up the covers of her bed so she can get in herself now that it’s been rendered watermelon-free. “She probably wants to see the continued advancement of magical knowledge as much as I do, don’t you think?” “I think if she writes back at all, you should have someone else open it,” you grunt. “I’m outta here. Good luck, princess.” She pauses as she gets in bed. She smiles at you. “Good luck to you, my burglar.” She waves a finger at the window. “Leave the window open, if you would.” Then she puts out her candle and pulls the canopy back into place. You pause and step out of the window. You stand there in the dark, staring at the canopy for a moment. You start to reach a hand out towards it. You pull it back. Underneath your half-mask, your teeth grind back and forth. You look at the window. You look back at the room. Your steps fall lightly on the carpeted floor as you walk over to the armoire. There’s a rustling noise as you jerk the pink dress, custom made for the Solstice Ball, off of its place and shove it into your bag. Nothing comes from the canopy in response except the slight shift of blankets and a contented release of breath. A few more seconds of shuffling later and you walk back over to the window and climb out. You close it behind you and start climbing back up the tower. … A moment later, you climb back down and open the window back up. You let out an annoyed grunt and climb away for real this time. And, as mentioned, here's chapter 2! Expect a couple more chapters later this week! --- You sell off some of the jewelry you knicked from the princess and make a pretty sum, as per usual and as per usual, you decide to put most of it away for safekeeping. You give one chunk to a friend who can keep it secure, who out of the kindness of his heart, lets you help yourself to a few of his refreshments. You give one chunk to another friend, who has made you aware of a limited time investment opportunity in the world of wyvern racing and you share some of it with another individual with whom you have a frank exchange of ideas regarding whether his mother’s circumference was great enough for her posterior to require its own lord. Okay, so, you spent most of the money drinking, gambling and fighting. At least you also replaced your boot. While nursing a hangover (and also nursing your busted up jaw), you find yourself going through what’s left of your loot. You haven’t burned through all of or even most of it yet. That princess really is keeping some valuable crap around. But you’re going through it quicker than you’d like - at this rate, you really are going to have to go back to that tower sooner than you’d like. The risk is still bafflingly small. You’re practically daring them to catch you at this point, always going in the same way, but there’s just never a guard on that tower, no matter how many times you use it to break into the princess’ room. “Lousy girl is keepin’ her guards away on purpose,” you growl to nobody in particular as you rub your head. You fall into your own bed and take a swig of your drink (water, probably the first cup of water you’ve had in a few days, the more you think about it). Your bed is a sad sight compared to hers, her giant four-poster behemoth could fit three of your crummy mattress. The rest of your home isn’t much better. For all the money you’ve made stealing from the princess, it never really occurred to you to buy some nicer things. Your home is just kind of the same hole in the wall it was before you started thieving. And it’s starting to bother you a bit just how out of place that dress is amongst all of your other crap. You didn’t sell it with the jewelry. You’re not sure why. You just left it hanging on the wall across from your bed and you just keep…sitting on your bed, staring at it. “I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair.” Those words keep bouncing around in your head. You grab a handful of your own hair. You run your previous encounters with the princess over in your head, trying to remember if there was ever a time when your hood wasn’t up, if there was ever a time it wasn’t too dark for her to get a good look at you, if there was ever a time when she could’ve gotten a good look at your face at all, muchless the hair on top of your head. Was she just idly sharing an opinion or was she specifically referring to…. You let out a groan and look away from the dress. You don’t know why you’re spending so much time thinking about it. So much time trying to figure out what some strange bookworm royal girl is thinking. Why she spent so much time telling you about that treasure. Hell, she practically invited you to come back after she had it. ‘Is that why you’re burning through the money so fast? So you have to go back again? And when you see her and she has that treasure….’ You groan again, louder this time, to shut your own stupid inner monologue up. Right about now you’re regretting that you decided on water. You don’t know what’s happening to you. Easiest score in the world, all you have to do is go and take the jewels, then sell them, and the person you’re robbing never says boo about it. Why are you over-complicating it? She’s just a sheltered, pampered princess who’s never had any excitement in her life. She probably never says anything because she thinks this situation is like something from one of those books she always has her nose in, where some dashing rogue who steals from the rich and gives to the poor or something stupid like that falls in love with the fair maiden. That’s it. She probably has a crush on you because she thinks you’re some handsome fantasy character. She only sees you in the couple of hours when you’re actually on your game. She never sees the weeks of drinking, listlessness and general futility that makes up the rest of your life. She doesn’t know you’re just a busted, drunken thief who found an easy score and keeps using it because they prefer when things are easy. And, okay, sure, maybe you toss some gold coins at a couple street urchins here or an orphanage there. But she doesn’t know that, and you’re pretty sure you’re drunk when you do that, so she doesn’t get to assume it’s out of the goodness of your heart! She just thinks you’re a lot more than you actually are. And the more you think about it, you realize you are really pissed off at her. You think about going back into that tower tonight and giving her a piece of your mind. You think about figuring out which books are her favorite and then stealing them and telling her you burned them for warmth (before you remember that it’s summer). You think about throwing her mattress in that lake. None of these feel appropriate and most importantly, you don’t want your petty vengeance to actually harm your relationship enough to jeopardize your easy score, this is your income we’re talking about here. After ruminating on it for a bit, something occurs to you. You go back to your satchel and open it up, brushing aside some jewelry to find a rolled up piece of paper, the only thing you took besides the dress that wasn’t shiny. It was a snap decision, right at the end, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You grabbed the dress, then you walked over to the desk and ripped this page right out of her notes. It’s her notes on that treasure. The one that she was telling you about. The one that lets you become anything else. She told you to come back and see her when she got it. You would really like to see the look on her face when you show up in her room with it in your hands. You think about that look for a second. Then you stop, furrow your brow and shake your head. “No, no, this is insane!” You yell out to nobody. “This isn’t some jewelry we’re talking about, this is a massively powerful magical artifact in the hands of the strongest spellcaster in the country. For God’s sake, I am NOT, under any circumstances, seriously going to consider trying to rob the Witch Queen!” — Some time later, the night has finally come where you’re going to try and rob the Witch Queen. You’ve parked yourself at the edge of the forest surrounding the Witch Queen’s tower. After you finished cursing yourself and telling yourself this was crazy, you did eventually do your research on the place and come up with a plan to get inside. The vault, with all the Witch Queen’s treasures, was at the top, right above the Queen’s personal chamber. The tower only had one entrance, with guards posted at all times. So going in the front door wasn’t an option, but scaling the tower wasn’t much better. It was very tall and even at night, you would eventually be spotted, not to mention there was security charms on all of the windows. Real ones, not basically-a-practical-joke ones like the Princess’ teleportation charm that had put your boot in a lake. It seems impossible to get in without the Witch Queen wanting you there first, but you eventually realized something. The tower was covered with charms to prevent breaking in, but one area wasn’t - the one underneath the surface. You were going to steal from the Witch Queen by breaking into her dungeon. Finding a teleportation charm of your own hadn’t been cheap or easy. It was single use and single direction, so the spellcrafter you bought it from had insisted that you only use it when you had direct line of sight to where you were going. If you misjudged and teleported into a wall, you would be crushed instantly. You’d promised the crafter you weren’t planning to teleport through a wall. You had not chosen to divulge you were planning to teleport through a bunch of ground and a wall. Because the charm was single direction, teleporting from the ground downward into the dungeon was a no-go and probably would’ve clipped the security charms anyway, so, you found yourself a quiet, secluded stretch of the forest and started digging. It was really quite important that you started digging at the right point because, can’t stress this part enough, if you got the distance wrong, you were going to have a lot of dirt and stone occupying the same physical space as your person and you really didn’t wanna learn what that felt like. Why were you doing this again? For money? Or power? No, it was for spite. Right. Just making sure. You’d never considered yourself a Godly burglar, but when you stood in that hole you’d dug with the charm in your hands, you found yourself murmuring a quick prayer to whichever of the divine cared to listen. Eventually, you decided the anticipation was making you sicker than the possibility of your imminent crushing death, so you sucked in a breath and said the word. The charm crackled to life and a blue electricity surrounded you. Your stomach filled with a feeling of weightlessness. Thunk! And you were dropped onto your knees in a dark cell. You take in and let out several breaths and look around. You’re alive. And you’re not dead. Which means it worked? You pat yourself a few times. Yup still in one piece. And from the iron bars in front of you, it looked like you were exactly where you wanted to be, a cell in the Witch Queen’s dungeon. A quick look around shows what you had suspected from your time planning this job to be true - nobody else here. Either imprisonment had fallen out of favor with the Witch Queen as a punishment or she’d built a better dungeon somewhere else. Given that you’re currently trying to steal from her, you really hope you never find out. Right, stealing. The heist. You’re here for a heist. The good news is, you didn’t crush yourself getting in. The bad news is, this was by far the easy part. Now you have to climb up every floor of this tower, including past the Queen’s own chamber, without being detected. On the way, you have to not only figure out a way to get past the person guarding the vault (which is a big problem, but more on that later), you have to find a way to actually open the vault itself. But, somehow, you have a plan. See, your first idea had just been to find somewhere to make yourself invisible long enough to scale the wall, then just cut through the spells on the windows of the top floor, similarly to how you broke into the princess’ chamber. But when doing your research, you found the Witch Queen, naturally, as a famous witch, didn’t guard her home with charms you could just cut off that easily. Obviously, she had in-house spellcrafters to make her charms for her and trying to cut them from the outside would just trigger them. But if you could find the charm at the point of creation….well then you might be able to do something. You made your way up from the dungeon and waited until the doors opened, allowing a shipment of spell-making supplies to come inside. Since you needed to get to the spellcrafting workshop anyway, you’d considered just sneaking into the tower itself with the supplies, but every shipment is thoroughly inspected for security and accuracy. You’d heard a rumor that a shipment had come up missing a key component the Queen had expected and in response, she’d turned the guard who had failed to properly inspect the shipment and the courier who had failed to properly fulfill her order it into a pair of boots and spent an hour kicking the merchant she’d ordered from in the stomach with them. A story like that had to be true. So sneaking in with the supplies was a no-go. But after the supplies were already in the tower, there was no reason for them to be inspected again until they were in the workshop. So you put your mask on, hold your breath and find yourself a crate big enough to fit in (you may have slipped a piece of jewelry to the courier to make sure they used an extra large crate with a loose board for a relatively unimportant part of the Queen’s order). Holding your breath as you travel up the stairs isn’t easy, but you’ve trained to be able to do it for longer. The box you’re hiding in eventually gets brought to a room and you hear a conversation. “Yes, yes, yes, put those ones over there. Her Grace will be in workshop tomorrow. Need to have everything out of boxes and on shelves by then.” “Want any help? Some of those crates were awful heavy.” “No, no, no, should be fine. Her Grace, very particular about how things are organized. Whole system. Better done myself.” “Right. She’s a stickler for inspection, too.” A chuckle could be heard as the crates were moved. “I hear she has some important project she’s working on.” “Yes, yes. Very important. Very very important. Very secret. Rank-and-file spellcrafters not told what it is. Only what materials to gather. Not willing to divulge to details to any outside of her chief crafter and her Queensguard. Hear rumors, though.” “Yeah? Rumors like what?” “Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm.” “Come onnnnnn. It’s just us.” “Hm. Hm. Alright. Hear Her Grace. Experimenting with her own mana.” “Pfffwhat? Why would she want to do that? She has the most powerful mana in the country.” “Yes. Yes. Yes. Have seen it. Studied it. Never seen anything like it. Like holding sun. In palm of my hand. Perfect. No room for improvement. None.” “Can’t imagine what she might want to do to change it, but….she must know what she’s doing.” “Yes. Yes. Her Grace, wisest witch in the land. Trust her.” “Alllright. That’s the last one. My shift is almost over. You want to meet at the bar after you’re done with this?” “Yes. Yes. Imbibing. Yes. Will be there.” Somewhere during that conversation, you released your breath. The conversation ends and the door closes to signal the guard has left. You hear the sound of crates opening. You grip your club and take another breath. The orange lamplight pours in when the top of the crate opens. You stand up and swing your club right at the diminutive bespectacled spellcrafter’s head. One swing puts them out instantly and you catch them before they hit the ground, the whole thing taking about three seconds and happening in complete silence. Poor bastard never saw it coming. You relieve them of their cloak and shove them in a closet. An ignominious moment in, you get the feeling, a dedicated career, but, they’ll be fine when they come to. You start looking around the workshop. From here, your plan had two options. One, you could find the charm they use on the windows and create a mixture that you could put on your knife to cut through it. That would let you climb the outside of the tower and go in and out of the windows without being detected. Or you could put on the cloak you just “borrowed” and pretend to be one of the Queen’s spellcrafters. As long as you were careful, one option would get you to the top floor and then you could use the other to get out safely. But neither would get you inside the vault. That was the hard part. The vault contained all of the greatest and most powerful treasures the Witch Queen had to her name, so the vault and its keys were guarded by the Queensguard, elite warrior-spellcasters sworn to protect the Witch Queen. When they were on duty, each member of the Queensguard kept a key to the vault on their person. Meanwhile, one member of the Queensguard would stand watch in front of the vault, a different one each day. Getting inside meant not only swiping a key off of one of them, it also meant somehow getting past one of them. These people were the best of the best, you weren’t gonna get them by sneaking up and whacking them once with your club. This was the crux of everything. Procuring the teleportation charm, digging the hole, figuring out a way into the workshop, that had all been relatively straightforward to plan and pay for. This was where most of the budget for the heist had gone, in terms of time, thought and coin. After about a hundred false starts and bad, unworkable plans, you had eventually come up with something, but you were going to have to execute it perfectly. It couldn’t be understated, these were some of the savviest, smartest, not to mention deadliest magic users in the country and they were all top-level swordswomen and men as well. You were going to need a bit of luck in even the best case scenario and if you made a mistake at any point, it was instantly curtains. If they didn’t strike you down right there, you’d be thrown before the Witch Queen and that was not an eventuality you felt comfortable dwelling on. You take a deep breath and hold up the cloak you had “borrowed” from the spellcrafter. Time to go.

Hi everyone! This is my first time posting here so please let me know if I do something that violates community etiquette. This is the first of what will likely be several stories about this character. More writing is available on my patreon. All characters are adults. 18+ - Delilah woke up as the warm mush filled the seat of her diaper. She squirmed against the giant teddy bear that took up nearly half her bed, still too sleepy to understand the sensation. A hot rush of pee flooded her already soaked padding and she came fully awake. She opened her eyes. She was laying on her back between the legs of her teddy, with her head resting on his soft belly. Still feeling pressure in her tummy, Delilah opened her legs and pushed. She whimpered as the rest of a large, firm mess plopped into her diaper. Blushing, she reached down to gently feel the lump in her thick disposable. Her diaper warmed under her hand as her bladder finished emptying itself. She sat up with her back against her teddy’s tummy, drawing her knees up and trying not to squish her mess against her kitty. A faint but noticeable smell of poop wafted up as she flipped back her covers. Pushing back her pale pink hair, she put on her glasses and picked up her phone. Morning daddy, she typed. She held up her phone to take a selfie. After two years on estrogen, she was still both adjusting to and reveling in her own beauty. She loved her soft skin, her small firm breasts, the subtle new curves on her thin body. The low cut of her nightgown showed off her collarbones and a tiny hint of cleavage, the soft blue color of the fabric matching her eyes. Her most striking feature was her large pretty mouth, almost too big for her tiny face. Sticking out her butt and tugging up her nighty to make sure her diaper was visible, Delilah snapped her selfie. She swiped back to a message from “my daddy ❤️.” Morning baby ❤️, it read. She replied with her selfie. Turning slightly onto her side, she reached behind her and, shoving her teddy’s leg out of the way to get a better angle, took a picture of her messy diaper. The brown stain was slowly spreading up the back of the diaper after her last wetting. She sent it to her partner. my daddy ❤️: My pretty baby ❤️ my daddy ❤️: Are you poopy? Delilah smiled and leaned forward, supporting herself on her elbows as she typed. Her teddy’s fluff tickled her thighs as she jiggled her messy diaper against him. 🏳️‍🌈 LilahLemon (she/her)🍋🏳️‍⚧️: Big time hehe my daddy ❤️: Good girl 🏳️‍🌈 LilahLemon (she/her)🍋🏳️‍⚧️: Grumbles >//< A warm flush radiated from Delilah’s chest and she squeezed her legs together, causing her mess to squish between her thighs and her cheeks. She brushed her nipples with her hand and shivered. Her breasts were growing again and they were tender and sensitive. my daddy ❤️: Did you do it in your sleep? 🏳️‍🌈 LilahLemon (she/her)🍋🏳️‍⚧️: Some hehe 🏳️‍🌈 LilahLemon (she/her)🍋🏳️‍⚧️: Woke up and finished pushing my daddy ❤️: Such a good girl Delilah smiled and slipped her hand into the collar of her nightgown, rubbing her small conical nipples. She pinched her left one and gently rolled the tip between her fingers. Meeh 😛, she typed. my daddy ❤️: So glad my baby bed messes ❤️ You know I can’t help it, Delilah replied. She couldn’t. After being diapered for the last four years, her continence was nearly extinguished. She still had partial bowel control while she was awake, but she frequently woke up messing herself. Gently biting her lip, Delilah squeezed her breast. They were just large enough now to fill her small hands and she was desperate to have them touched. She wiggled her hips against her squishy padding, feeling her mess mush between her legs. Her kitty was flushed and sensitive. She dropped her hand from her breast and reached under the skirt of her nighty to cup the crotch of her diaper. Pressing it against her kitty, she kneaded the soaked filling through the plastic. Her clit was starting to drip into her diaper. May I get off daddy? She typed with her other hand. my daddy ❤️: We’ll see baby my daddy ❤️: Where's your paci sweetie? She felt over her chest, realizing her pacifier clip was missing. Around? She typed. Should be in your mouth, her partner responded. Delilah grumbled to herself and crawled over her teddy to search her bed, her plastic sheets crinkling under her. Pushing aside the covers to reveal a collection of sex toys, stuffies, snacks, and an assortment of items that absolutely should not have been in her bed, Delilah dug around under her pillows for her pacifier. Finding it between her wand and a bag of candy she’d stolen from work, Delilah popped in her mouth. She climbed on top of her teddy, straddling him, and sent a picture to her caregiver. Her pretty was face lit up in a smile behind the large pacifier shield. my daddy ❤️: There's my happy baby ❤️ Glowing with pleasure, she rocked herself against her teddy. Squeezing her teddy with her legs so she didn’t slip off, Delilah leaned over and started the video call through her webcam. “Can you see me daddy?” She said, shaking her messy butt at the camera. Her mess moved against her. “I can see you, baby.” Her caregiver’s voice crackled over her cheap speakers and Delilah smiled behind her pacifier. It was deeper than the pre-testosterone voice he had had when they first got together, but she no longer remembered any other. She pulled her nightgown off over her head and flipped her hair back as she turned around to face the camera. Shivering with excitement as the cool air hit her skin, she ran her hands over her chest. She cupped a breast in each palm and squeezed gently, more for her own enjoyment than for that of her partner watching through the webcam. She did hope that if she was sexy enough, he would let her cum. The poop in her diaper squished against her as she scooted her butt up to straddle her teddy’s head. Pressing her crotch down on his face, she rocked her kitty against his nose. She ran her hands down her smooth body to rub the front of her diaper, cupping the padding with both hands and lifting it to press against her clit. “Good girl. Baby loves her teddy, doesn't she?” “Mhmm,” Delilah bounced her butt against the bear’s head. “Does he make baby’s kitty feel nice?” “Mhmmm,” Delilah lisped around her pacifier. “My diapers berry slick daddy.” “And very full. Baby’s kitty must be so poopy.” Delilah whined and rocked herself impatiently against her bear. “I pretty sure she's still clean,” she mumbled, knowing very well she was messy all over under her diaper. “Maybe,” She heard a smile in her partner’s voice. “But you're a very good girl to rub your kitty in your mess.” A little moan slipped out of Delilah. “Just want to make stickies…” “I know you do. Where’s your toy, baby?” Delilah blushed. “Which one daddy?” “Your big one.” “Umm…” Delilah slid off her bear. Making sure to stick up her butt at the camera, she crawled over to her nest of sex toys and pulled out her large red dildo. “Dis one, dada?” She turned around, holding it up to the camera. “Yes, baby. Where’s your lube?” She shrugged. “I nono.” “Find it.” Grumbling, she dug around in her bed for her lube, finally finding it under her stuffed shark. She held it up in triumph. “Good girl. Can you say hello to your toy for me?” She took out her pacifier, licking up the length of the dildo before taking it into her mouth. She made eye contact with the camera as she took it as deep into her throat as she could, grinding her kitty into her diaper as she did. She slowly slid it out of her mouth, kissing the tip as it left her lips. Wiggling with excitement, she opened her lube bottle and dribbled it over her toy, sliding her hand up and down the shaft as she coated it. “Good baby.” Delilah popped her pacifier back in and smiled. “Can you pull your diaper aside for me?” Nodding, Delilah obediently got on all fours and pulled her diaper aside with one hand. She flushed with embarrassment to know her daddy could almost certainly see how messy she was. With her other hand, she angled her dildo under her diaper towards her asshole. She burned with humiliation as she felt her mess squishing under the toy. Pressing the tip to her hole, she pushed gently. Her body resisted at first, then, as she forced herself to relax, she felt her hole open and take in the head of the toy. She gave herself a few seconds to accept the toy and then slowly pushed the rest of the shaft into herself. She tugged her diaper back into place, trying not to get any mess on her fingers. Looking back over her shoulder, she shook her hips at the camera. “Good girl. Can you show me how you like to make your teddy feel good?” “Yesh dada.” Carefully climbing back on to her teddy, she straddled his hips and put her arms around his head. Nuzzling into his soft fur, she slowly eased down on her dildo. She whined quietly as her mess mushed under her and she humped her diaper against her teddy, her clit sliding against her soiled padding. “Does baby like that?” Delilah nodded into her teddy. “Uh…huh…” Her clit was hard now, and she shifted her full weight onto her butt, driving her dildo deeper into herself. She rolled her hips against him, riding the dildo in her diaper like it was her teddy’s cock. Leaning forward, she kissed his face through her pacifier, his fluff tickling her small breasts. She moaned into her pacifier. Kissing him made it more like real sex, but also made her feel more like a little girl “practicing” kissing on her stuffed toys. She felt pathetic. Her kitty throbbed. “Aww, is baby giving teddy kisses?” Delilah turned her head to look back at the camera. Her cheek was pressed against her bear's fur. “Just being nice to my fwiend.” “I know sweetie. Baby loves making her teddy happy, doesn't she?” She nodded. “Does he make baby’s kitty feel nice?” “Makes my kitty tinglies.” She squirmed in her diaper. “I know sweetie, your clitty is really hard isn't she? Delilah blushed. “Why’s my baby so excited?” “I nono.” She turned her face into her bear. “Is it because she knows she’s too little for big girl sex?” Delilah whined into her pacifier and rapidly humped her hard clit against her padding. Sweat rolled down her back. Her whole body felt tingly and the cold air was electric against her damp skin. She squeezed her legs around her bear, flexing her butt and thighs as she rode the toy in her ass. She moaned as the mess moved between her cheeks. “Does my baby want to cum in her dirty diaper?” “Yesh,” Her voice was high and breathy. “Yesh daddy.” “Yes what, baby?” “I wanna-” Delilah moaned into her teddy. “Wanna cum in my poopy diapy dada.” “Get your buzzy, baby.” Delilah whimpered and reached for her wand. The smell of her diaper and her own sweat hung in the air around her. She clicked it on and placed the buzzing head against the front of her diaper and sucked in her breath as her whole diaper vibrated against her kitty. Trapping the wand between herself and her bear she pushed into it hard into her crotch, mushing the silicon head into the plastic of her diaper. She pushed her hips forward, curling over herself to feel the depth of the toy in her ass. Her poopy diaper buzzed against her clit, enveloping her. She kissed her bear’s face and moaned loudly and involuntarily into her pacifier. “Is my baby close?” “Uhh…” Delilah’s mouth was open and slack around her pacifier. Her eyes were shut. She was squeezing her own breast in one hand. “Uhhuhhh…” “Is her teddy making her feel nice in her dirty diaper?” “Mhhmmm…” She nodded and moaned again. All Delilah could think about was her diaper. Her mess was buzzing against her; her own filthy, smelly reminder that she was a helpless baby. Too little for sex, too little to use the toilet. Only able to squish her soiled padding against herself until she came in her own waste. “Cum in your diaper for me, baby.” The wave of pleasure erupted from her kitty, rolling up over her hips and chest. Delilah gasped and moaned, her hand slipping from her breast to mash her wand against her diaper as she came. She whimpered against her bear’s face, rocking back on her dildo to milk out the rest of her orgasm. “Eeep,” Delilah pulled back from her wand as it suddenly became too much. Giggling, she fumbled to turn it off. She couldn’t tell if she had dribbled into her diaper or not, but her kitty was tingly and happy. Her wand clicked off. She was sleepy and warm. “All done sweetie?” She nodded as she snuggled into her bear. Her dildo felt larger in her ass now and she wiggled her butt to get comfortable. “Did you have fun?” “Duh.” Delilah was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her diaper mushed between thighs as she wrapped her legs around her teddy. God, she stunk. “Let’s get your diaper changed then.” “Uh uh.” Delilah pulled her covers up over herself. “Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” “No, dada.” Delilah felt herself peeing into her mess. She sighed happily as the damp heat spread throughout her diaper. “Are you sure?” “Mhmms.” “I love you baby.” “Wuv wu too dada.” Delilah suckled her pacifier. She closed her eyes.