Dungeons and Diapers (Chapter 17, Updated Oct 11th)

[PeculiarChangeling]

Written as a commission, the story is planned out for a good long while. 

 

Chapter 1

“Do you think she’s dead?” Quinn asked, peering over the log towards the mouth of the cave. 

“Shh,” Sandra hissed. 

“If she got in a fight, we’d have heard it by now,” Hadrian added. “But Sandra’s right. We should be quiet.” 

The big half-orc frowned, but rested his elbows on the ground and put his chin in his hands, relaxing as he watched. “I figure she’s dead. Been almost an hour.”

Sandra glared at her two colleagues. Though formidable in their own fields, they were about as subtle as a tarrasque in a tea shop. “Quiet. The wizard could be listening.”

“She’s not dead,” Hadrian repeated, raising his wrist to look at his hand-wound watch. “And it’s been only fourteen minutes. Your sense of time is askew.” 

“Your watch is wrong,” Quinn muttered back. “I’m following the sun. It says that it’s been almost an hour.” 

“I made this watch myself,” the wizard hissed back, his softly-pointed ears twitching in annoyance. “It’s not wrong.” 

“Children!” Sandra snapped, louder than either of them. 

They both looked back at her in unison. “Shhh!” 

She groaned, turning her eyes back towards the cave. Quiet, moving like silk over stones, their ranger left the dungeon and crept back towards them. 

“See? She’s not dea- ow!” The wizard yelped, as Quinn slapped him on the shoulder. 

Tarja Turunen was a beauty, even in her studded leather armor. Gliding towards the rest of the party, she slipped over the log and crouched. 

“Traps?” Sandra asked, quietly. 

“Traps,” Tarja nodded. “A lot of traps. I didn’t see any enemies, but it’s basically wall-to-the-wall with crossbows, swinging hammers, you name it.” 

“We take our time then,” Sandra declared. “I’ll take point, make sure everything gets disarmed.” 

“If I get shot with a crossbow trap you missed, I’ll take it out and stab you with it,” Quinn growled. To someone who didn’t know him, it would have been a threat, but Sandra recognized it as a vote of confidence. 

Sandra looked at their ranger. “Tarja, is it safe to just walk up?” 

“Safe enough, but be careful once you step inside,” Tarja replied. “We’ll be right behind you if you get into shit.”

She looked over at Hadrian. “And you’ve got your wizard stuff ready to dispel anything that gets tossed at me, right?” 

“Absolutely. No spell will molest you while I’m there to warn you.” 

Sandra nodded, hopped over the log, and strolled into the dungeon. 

Easy money, she reminded herself. She was taking point in the most dangerous part of the dungeon, but that wouldn’t be a problem. The reward was supposed to be high, the risk was low, by the time the sun was down they’d be back at the tavern drinking ale and celebrating good fortune with good friends. 

Pupils shifting as she walked into the darkness, Sandra scanned the ground for danger. Nothing, for about twenty feet, and then… Aha! 

A trip line. It was an old standby, and for good reason: Easy to build, hard to spot. Maybe it would trigger a crossbow, maybe it would drop boulders on her head, maybe it was actually there just to make her trip. Either way, it was her job to dismantle it without getting hurt. 

She started to move to examine it closer, then frowned. That’s too easy. 

Stepping back, she crouched low and surveyed the ground again. There was more gravel here than anywhere else, scattered over the floor, as though it were hiding something else. 

“Clever, clever,” she whispered, spotting the pressure plates. Tip-toeing up, she spun shadows around her hands, perfectly weighted tools appearing between her fingers. Reaching the pressure plates, she got to work. 

It was slow going, tedious, and exhausting. The dungeon crawl was the least exciting adventure she could remember being on. Few traps were even as clever as the first one, and most were dithering and poorly put together, like the wizard who’d set this all up couldn’t even be bothered to make traps that would even kill people. 

She found a pit with no spikes at the bottom, a spring-loaded dart gun with no poison, and even a rope dangling from the ceiling of the cave that, if pulled, would dump a bucket of water on the victim’s head. 

The design was childish to the extreme, but she tried not to let her guard down as she worked, methodical and deliberate, deeper into the cave.

An hour later, though, she’d had enough. Sandra stood up straight, faced her party, and announced, “Okay, I’m done.” 

“The traps are gone?” Quinn asked. 

“The traps are harmless,” Sandra explained. “It’d be faster to just walk through here and trigger them all than to disarm them, and about as productive. The most dangerous thing I’ve seen them do is weak enough to be countered by a ‘Cure Light Wounds’ potion.” 

Hadrian frowned, his expression ashen and grey in the near perfect darkness of the cave. “That doesn’t seem wise.” 

“I’m not saying we just stumble through blind, I’m saying that I don’t need to disarm every last one,” Sandra explained. “Just keep your eyes open and you’ll be fine.” 

Quinn started to walk forward, needing no other convincing, but Tarja put up a hand to stop him. “Sandra. Are you sure about this?” 

“As sure as I can be. If the wizard could make better traps, he would have by now.” 

“Hadrian, what are your thoughts?” Tarja asked, still unconvinced. 

“Well, I’d need to think on it for a spell.” Scratching at his hairless chin, he said, “It’s possible that this is all an elaborate trap in and of itself. Tire out our expert, make her careless, then spring the tricky traps a moment later. It’s what I might do, if I had enough time and resources.” 

“It’s a lame idea,” Sandra shot back. “We’re not the first crew to come through here, and any idiot can disable these traps. Hell, someone sturdy enough could just walk right into them and be fine. Would you want to spend eight hours carefully resetting basic traps just to try and tire out the next chucklehead party to wander through?” 

“No,” Hadrian replied. “I wouldn’t. The wizard could have constructs, though, or-” 

“Have you seen any constructs?” Sandra asked. 

“No.” 

“So, my point stands. If someone else wants to take point and tediously scan for trip wires that unleash slingshots and pebbles, be my guest. I’m done.” Her party shuffled their feet, but nobody stepped forward. “That’s what I thought.” 

Turning to face down the cave, she started walking forward. She wasn’t careless - she didn’t go around stomping on pressure plates just for the hell of it, but she also didn’t pay any particular attention to small details, either. 

It worked out approximately like she’d expected. A rock pelted her on the shoulder, and at one point she had to get out of the way of a slowly moving log that could have been seriously dangerous if she’d been tied up and completely unable to get out of the way for twenty seconds or so.

Naturally, she didn’t see the first real trap until it was far, far too late. 

It came out of nowhere. Sandra didn’t even see what had triggered it - one moment, they were walking forward, cautious and mindful of danger. The next moment, a fluttering swarm of what looked like insects swooped in from the ceiling, making a beeline towards Hadrian. 

He had time to call up a shield, but they ignored the magical barrier, and his attempts to slap them down proved to be of little use.

Sandra couldn’t get a good look at the creatures. In the black-and-white of her darkvision, they looked to have a bulbous head and a shield of some kind of chitin, or… plastic? Maybe there are constructs after all. 

Everyone drew their weapons, but the wizard ended it before they could close in, opening his mouth wide and calling out a word of power, waving his hands and producing a burnt piece of bark from his component pouch. 

Sandra wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw one of the bugs fly into his mouth as he called up the spell. Before she could look again, a stormcloud appeared around the wizard’s head, crackling with electricity and power. 

A shadowy black blade in her hand, Sandra watched cautiously, not wanting to charge in and start swinging at the space occupied by her party member. Tarja was no better. Even as precise a shot as the ranger was, she couldn’t hit a target she couldn’t properly see. Add in the proximity to the wizards’ head, and shooting would be unnecessarily dangerous. 

Quinn seemed ready to charge, first, but after twenty four seconds the stormcloud disappeared, and the swarm clattered to the floor. Hadrian looked frazzled, having been shocked by his own spell, but he wasn’t about to go down for the count from it. He spun, facing Sandra.

“What’s in your mouth?” she asked, walking up. One of the objects had gone in after all, but now that it was in place and unmoving, she could see that it was no bug. As the wizard opened his bag to let out his creepy little familiar, shedding some light in the room, she confirmed that it was indeed plastic, pastel, and- “Is that a pacifier?” 

“Ah baba phoo bwaah!” Hadrian said, annoyed. “A- Buh?” 

She could detect the magic on the pacifier, plain as day. She identified it as an enchantment, and with careful examination of the threads of power, she saw that it was some kind of speech-incapacitating curse. 

“It’s keeping him from talking,” she said, walking up. 

He didn’t need to move his lips to say, ‘No shit’, his expression did that plenty well. Pawing at his mouth, he tried to pull the pink pacifier out of his mouth, but it didn’t budge no matter how hard he pulled. 

Inspecting the pacifiers on the floor, Sandra could sense that they were all enchanted like the first, the magical aura on them identical to the one in Hadrian’s mouth. If he hadn’t thought fast while they were in a swarm, they might have gotten to the whole party, rendering everyone effectively mute. 

Sandra nodded, impressed. Good work, Hadrian. Reaching out, she hooked a finger around the plastic loop at the end of his pacifier, pulling experimentally. 

The pacifier popped free. 

“Ah- Baba?” he said, still annoyed, hands on his hips. “Ah, towd, you, so!” 

“Ah, thank the gods it isn’t permanent,” Sandra said, sighing in relief. “How do you feel?” 

“Vindicated!” Hadrian shouted. “I told you-” 

They both looked up suddenly, feeling the magic stirring in the air. 

It wasn’t just a trap. It was an attack. 

Energy swirled, nebulous and powerful, glittering in Sandra’s supernatural senses. She flicked her hand to call up a shadowy umbral blade, going back-to-back with the wizard as they prepared to ward off the spells. 

Quinn raised his own weapon, a wicked-sharp greataxe, bellowing in fury as he summoned his own strength and got ready for a fight. Tarja, for her part, had put her back to a wall and notched her bow. 

The attack was coming from the mouth of the cave. Past the edge of how far she could see in the dark, Sandra could only make out vague shapes. They cast vicious shadows in the light of Hadrian’s ioun familiar, and they were barreling forward at terrifying speed. 

Sandra wasn’t ashamed to break first. “Run!” she called out, feet starting to move under her as she scrambled deeper into the cave. “Retreat! We’ve got to get to a choke point!” 

She wasn’t fleeing in fear, she was making a tactical move towards a potentially superior position. 

Without her to aid in the fight, the rest of the party didn’t see any chances in staying put. She forced their hand, making them run or fight at only three-quarters strength. 

As a group, they fled, escaping the charging monsters by running deeper into the lion’s den. 

Quinn’s leg snagged on a bit of ribbon, stretched across the ground like a tripwire. He went down, and when he came back up, the ribbon was twisting around him like a serpent. Bellowing, he put on more speed, getting to the front of the pack as they got deeper into the cave. 

A pressure plate shot a blast of brilliant white magic up at Tarja, making the fabric around her legs and hips buffer in the gale, then settled. She didn’t seem hurt, and if the magic was intended to slow her, it didn’t work. 

Sandra was so busy watching her allies, ensuring that they were all together in their flight, that she didn’t see the trap right in front of her until she’d planted her foot in the low pit. 

It wasn’t even one of the good traps. She’d been caught off guard by a hole in the ground. 

Rolling onto her back, the fear overtook her, and she screamed as the monsters finally got close enough that she could see them forward, loping towards, grizzly fur and white teeth becoming visible. They were bears. Dozens of them. Dozens of… 

Teddy bears. 

Getting back up, Sandra felt suddenly silly for having been so afraid. 

Whipping out her shadow sword, she called, “We can take them here!” 

Hearing her call, her party turned one by one, came to the same realization, and together stood their ground against the oncoming horde. 

Fur and fluff were cut and thrown as they cut through their enemies, so caught up in the heat of battle that little else seemed to matter. 

Sandra danced from side, eviscerating the teddy constructs when they weren’t looking, shattering their candy hearts with well placed strikes. Tarja simply skewered them like pincushions, turning the teddy bears into teddy porcupines as each one fell in turn. Quinn wasn’t so subtle, simply ripping one bear apart with each swing of his huge axe. Hadrian…

“Hadrian, what in the planes are you doing?” she called over her shoulder, looking back at the wizard. He looked confused, hands moving, mouth open as he called up magic, but his usual volley of attacking spells were not flying. 

There was no time to think about it, not until the fight was over. She skewered one more teddy, then dropped her blade, letting it dissolve back into shadow as her allies finished off the last handful of enemies. 

“Hadrian!” she called, running up to him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” 

“Abbh-tthbt!” he said, frowning. “Ah… Bah. Ahbabha.” 

“Can you understand me? Nod if you can understand me.” 

He looked at her blankly, as though she were the one speaking gibberish. Looking down, Sandra spotted a pressure plate sunk into the ground. He’d tripped some sort of magical trap, and now he couldn’t speak.

“Hadrian’s down for the count,” she said, turning to face the others. “I don’t know what hit him, but he’s not talking. I think it’s like what the pacifier did. We might need to get him to a cleric to reverse the curse, and-” 

She blinked as Quinn walked into the light. He was wearing… a dress. A pink, frilly dress, with strands of lace that were tied up in poofy sleeves and stitched around the hem of his skirt. 

“The ribbon,” Quinn explained, his face almost as pink as his pretty dress. “It… got around my armor. Into my armor, I think.” 

Sandra approached, feeling the fabric of the dress. It was sturdy, and though it looked delicate and fragile, it felt more like well-treated darkwood. It was hard, and flexible, and… 

“It is your armor,” she declared. “Or, at least, it’s similar to your armor.” 

“What’s the point in a transmorg- Transgom- a spell that changes my armor, if it doesn’t leave me defenseless?” Quinn asked, frowning, an expression that was particularly intimidating on his bullish face. 

“I’m not sure,” Sandra said, looking over at their changeling ranger. “Tarja, what happened to you?” 

“I- Nothing,” Tarja said. “I resisted it.” 

Sandra accepted the statement at face value. “I’m just glad nothing got me, either. All I did was trip.” 

“Eh… Sandra,” Quinn said, scratching his head. “You don’t feel that?” 

She felt a chill go down her back. I’m injured. I’ve been impaled, and I haven’t yet felt it. Oh gods… I can feel it. I can feel the blood on my pants. There’ll be pain any minute now… 

“I… do we have any potions?” she said, clutching at straws. “A healer’s kit. Anything.” 

“For what?” Quinn asked. 

Sandra blinked, daring to look down at her injury. “For what? For… uh…” 

Oh. 

She hadn’t been impaled, or cut, or anything else. The warmth she’d felt on her pants wasn’t blood at all, it was pee, darkening the dense fabric of her pants. 

“When… when I fell,” she said, realizing as she spoke it aloud. “I felt cold, and there must have been some kind of fear spell.” 

“Nothing you can’t clean up later,” Tarja said. “Let’s go, before we get attacked again.” 

“Wait a minute…” Quinn said, pointing deeper into the cave. “That looks like a camp to me.” 

Following his gesture, Sandra peered into the darkness. At the very edge of her darkvision, there was a firepit with a pot over it, though the embers had long since dwindled and died. Stepping closer, she saw a couple storage chests, a tent, a work table, and pail of water. All the amenities that a lone wizard would need. 

“I think you’re right.” Raising an eyebrow at Quinn, she asked, “What say we go find this wizard and make him fix what he broke?” 

Quinn was on board immediately, hefting his axe. Sandra expected more argument from Tarja, but even she agreed, tentatively stepping forward. 

“Hadrian, stay close,” Sandra kept her voice low. “Tarja, we’ll sneak forward together, get the drop on him. Quinn, you’ll-” 

“I know,” Quinn interrupted. “Once the music starts, I’ll be ready to dance.” 

Sanda nodded, calling up a lengthy dagger of shadow and creeping forward. 

Wizards weren’t known for their stealth, and she couldn’t detect any magical invisibility, which suggested that he was hidden in his tent. She approached, her footsteps silent save for a subtle ‘squish’ of her socks, and Tarja was following on her heels, longbow drawn. 

No more traps were sprung as they got on either side of the tent. Sandra held up three fingers, counting down to two, and one, and then it was time to strike. 

She cut down the side of the tent, lunging inside with a deadly strike that would-

It was empty. 

The tent wasn’t just unoccupied, it had been stripped clean. There wasn’t so much as a bedroll. 

Sandra frowned, stepping back through the hole she’d made in the side. “It’s empty!” 

“Huh?” Quinn shouted back. 

Tarja peered inside, confirming things. “He’s not here!” 

The half orc lumbered over, holstering his axe on his back. “He rabbited?” 

“Maybe he slipped through a Dimension Door when we got close,” Sandra suggested, “But that fire’s totally dead, and the tent it stripped bare. I think he’s been gone for a long time.” 

“Damn,” Quinn said, looking down at his pink, frilly ‘armor’. “Do you suppose Hadrian will be able to dispel this?” 

Hadrian wandered up behind Quinn, frowning in puzzlement at the group, crouching to look in the tent. “Hah-muh?” 

“Maybe,” Sandra hedged. “Let’s see if there’s anything worth taking. Quinn, can you check the perimeter?” 

“Checking for bushwhackers,” Quinn agreed. “Got it.” 

While he walked the edge of the cave, looking for hidey holes, Sandra started working on one of the chests, shadowy lockpicks working to get the box open. Thirty seconds later, she had the box open, and a minute later, she had unlatched both. 

The first was packed with rations, clothes, and general travel supplies. Sandra’s magical senses tingled as she picked through it, and came out with a pair of… 

“Enchanted underwear?” 

Holding up the plain, white briefs, Sandra focused on the magic, trying to detect its purpose. After some concentration, she thought she had it: A self cleaning spell. Briefs that never needed cleaning would be quite handy on the road, and they’d be a lot better than walking back to town in soggy panties. 

She took a second to glance in the second box, which was half full of parchment, books, and various magical components, then told Tarja, “I’m going to get cleaned up in the tent. Give me a second.” 

Tarja glanced at her, nodded, and then resumed looking over the half-finished teddy construct on the work table. 

Ducking into the shredded tent, Sandra tugged off her boots, stripped out of her wet pants, and finally removed her panties so that she could put on the briefs. 

In retrospect, she should have seen the curse coming. 

As soon as the briefs were pulled into place, they transformed, changing suddenly from plain, white underwear to a thick, puffy diaper. She yelped in surprise at the sudden burst of magic, baby powder puffing out of the waistband. 

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, grabbing at the tapes, half expecting to find that it would remain stuck. She was relieved to find that they came unstuck, and the diaper came away easily, falling to the ground. 

She’d been shaved smooth, and her skin was paler than it had been a moment before, a thin coat of perfumed baby powder spread between her legs. 

“Goddamned traps,” she groaned, reaching for her panties. “Goddamned prank underwear, goddamned teddy bears, goddamned wizards.” 

Getting dressed again, she spent the time and effort to cast prestidigitation. As much as her accident had spread, it took more than a minute, but when she was done she had clean pants, shoes, and panties. 

Dressed, she left the tent, glowering about the prank underwear. “Anything else useful?” 

“Not much.” Tarja pressed her lips into a line. “Magical texts, but they’re gibberish as far as I can tell. Otherwise, there’s no loot.” 

“What a waste,” Sandra sighed. “How much do you suppose this crawl is going to cost us?” 

“Depends on if Hadrian’s curse wears off, and how tough it is to fix Quinn’s armor. I think-” she looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Hadrian digging through the box of spell components, fishing out some of the supplies and putting them into his own pack. 

“I guess he’s still got his wits about him,” Sandra said. “That’s a good sign.” 

Tarja shrugged. “I guess I should be glad I’m the only one who got out unscathed.” 

Sandra eyed her, frowning. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. “Yeah, about that. Do you know what the trap was trying to do to you?” 

“No idea,” Tarja said, glancing back and forth suspiciously. “Maybe it was going to change my clothes, like Quinn.” 

“Yeah?” Sandra raised an eyebrow. “You sure it didn’t get you after all? If it’s a delayed effect, you could have been cursed and not know it.” 

“That’s not what happened.” 

Yeah, she’s hiding something. “Are you sure?” 

Tarja pressed her lips into a line, eyes darting around for an excuse to change the subject. “Well, I didn’t pee my pants, and I’m not dressed like a dolly, so… hey, what’s this?” 

Sandra rolled her eyes at the obvious deflection. “Tarja, if you’re hurt, you should just tell us so you can get patched up.” 

“I’m not hurt.” Digging in the box of clothing, she pulled out a large, cotton bra from the box. “Are we sure our wizard is a ‘he’?” 

Quinn walked back up, oblivious to the conversation going on. “Perimeter is clear, and there’s no other exits in the cave. What’s that?” 

Sandra shook her head. “We’re not sure. Our Wizard apparently has a bra with his clothes.” 

Trying to keep the attention off her, Tarja forced a chuckle, walking towards Quinn. “Hey, maybe it’s supposed to go with the girl clothes. Let’s see how well it fits?” 

As she held it up, probably to compare size and tease Quinn a bit more, Sandra finally noticed the faint magical aura around the brassiere. “Tarja, wait-” 

She was too slow. As the changeling held up the bra over Quinn’s chest, it flashed with magic, becoming part of his pink ensemble. Breasts simply appeared, large and supple, and looking completely out of place on the chest of a stern, muscled half-orc. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, staggering back, trying to fumble for the clasp on his back to remove the bra. “Tarja, what-” 

“I’m sorry!” Tarja exclaimed, as shocked as him. “Oh, gods, I had no idea- Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“Tarja!” Sandra snapped, crossing to them with long, swift strides. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

“I know,” Tarja said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I’m stupid, I should have realized… I’ll pay for the curse removal, once we find a cleric.” 

“Well, maybe we won’t need to.” Stepping behind Quinn, Sandra undid the bra strap for him, letting it fall away. The breasts remained, still as large and bouncy as ever. 

Quinn slumped in frustration. “Well, shit.” 

…

It was faster going out of the cave than it had been coming in. The traps had all been either disabled or set off, and there were no more waves of combat teddies to do battle with. Quinn stripped out of his frilly armor and got dressed in travel clothes, baggy and draped over his chest to hide his new breasts. 

They had to pull Hadrian out by the hand when he ignored their explanation that it was time to leave. He still stopped to pick up some of the magical pacifiers on the way out, presumably for study, but after that he was willing to follow along without any more stops. 

“You think we can still get the reward for clearing the cave?” Quinn asked, as they trudged back towards the main road. “The job was just to get the wizard out, one way or another, right?” 

“I’ll ask the guild,” Sandra said. “But the reward was tiny. Most of the cash was going to come from selling the loot we got.” 

“Damn.” 

“Still a good idea, though. A little cash is better than… uh…” 

She looked down, alarmed to feel her panties growing warm and wet. Flushing, she quickly waved her hand, casting prestidigitation, trying to keep up with the spreading accident. 

“Sandra?” Quinn asked, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Better than what?” 

Sandra frowned, turning away from the party and raising a hand to her brow, pretending to look down the road. “Uh… I thought I heard something,” she said, keeping the magic going. She couldn’t stop the accident from trickling down her legs, but she was at least able to mitigate it long enough for the flow to stop. 

“I don’t hear anything,” Tarja said. “What did it sound like?” 

Sandra was trying to run through the implications of her sudden, inexplicable loss of control. “Uh, an accident.” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, I was wrong,” Sandra corrected. “I don’t think I heard anything.” 

“Okay.” Tarja shrugged. “We’re all probably a little jumpy. We’ll feel better once we’re back on the road.” 

“Y-yeah.” I just peed my pants. There was no trap, and I’m not wearing anything cursed, so… what happened?

That occupied her thoughts as they trudged back to the main road, turned east, and started the trek back into town. 

The Sodden Songbird was the most popular tavern and inn in the little town of Marston. It was also the only tavern and inn in the little town of Marston. The stew was thin, the beer was strong, and they always had rooms for members of the adventurer’s guild. 

Stepping inside, Sandra broke away from the party to go talk to their guild contact, while Quinn ordered beers for the table. Tarja stayed with Hadrian, leading him by the hand to their usual table so he wouldn’t wander off. 

“Anand,” Sandra said, pulling up a chair across from the guild man. “Good to see you.” 

Anand was a dwarf, and his keen gaze saw through her feigned cheerfulness. “Got your asses whipped, eh?” 

“The wizard was gone,” Sandra explained, taking the contract from her bag and passing it back to Anand. “We fought some constructs, hit a mountain of traps, and found nothing but cursed gear and some random knick-knacks.” 

“Eh, it happens. First two groups of rookies didn’t make it past the traps, came back covered in welts. Everyone get out alive?” 

“Alive, and generally in one piece.” Sandra sat back. “Technically, we did get rid of the wizard, though. Pretty sure he dimension-doored out of there with his stuff when we got close.” That was a lie, but it couldn’t be proven either way. 

The dwarf chuckled, took a pull of his beer, and said, “You’re gonna push for payment, then, eh?” 

Sandra sighed. “Work with me here. We’re in gear that’s for adventurers with half our experience, barely keeping a roof over our heads, and now we’ve got to pay for curse removal. At least cover our expenses.”

Reaching for his pocket, Anand pulled out a coin purse marked with the guild stamp. Sandra knew that anyone but him would find the pouch completely empty and useless, but the guild man was able to pull out five shiny, almost-white coins. “Five platinum. Half the posted bounty. Best I can do.” 

“Thanks, Anand.” Sandra scooped up the coins, slipping them into a pocket. “You know the best guy to remove curses around here? Might be some powerful stuff.” 

“Eh, you can ask the cleric over at the Temple of Calistria, but if it’s strong you’ll have to go into the city. Want me to get you some names?” 

“I’ll check with the cleric,” Sandra said. “Any other jobs in town?” 

Anand shrugged. “Check with me tomorrow. I’m waiting back to hear about a man and a pegasus. Might be big.” 

“Thanks.” Sandra got up, walking over to the barkeep, a gelatinous blobby figure who was just barely translucent enough to let light through their body. 

The barkeep jiggled in acknowledgement, somehow managing to speak without apparent lips, tongue, or mouth. “What can I do you for?” 

“Paying our tab, and getting rooms for another night. How much do we owe you?” Sandra asked. She knew the total, but she hoped they would forget to add something up in the tally. 

“You’re a week behind on rooms, plus food, beer, and the gear you had me ship in. Nine gold, two silver, six copper.” 

She took one of the platinum coins, setting it on the counter. “This should cover us for tonight, too, then.” 

“That still leaves you shy the six copper,” the barkeep corrected. 

Damn. Sandra fished around for change, put the copper on the counter, and nodded to the thing. “You’re a shrewd business-blob.” 

It seemed to acknowledge the comment, then returned to wiping down the counter. 

“Sandra!” Quinn exclaimed, holding up a tankard, sloshing a bit of the foaming brew over the top. “Have a beer, and we’ll toast to ill fortune and good friends.” 

Sandra took the tankard, but she didn’t sit down. “To good friends.” 

They all drank, save for Hadrian, who only took a pull from his own beer after he saw what the rest of the party was doing. 

Taking the coins from her pocket, she passed one to Quinn and another to Tarja. “Anand was willing to pay half. I’ll hang on to Hardian’s cut until he starts talking sense again.” 

Tarja played the coin over her delicate fingers, while Quinn just put his coin in a deep pocket, staying hunched over to conceal his new breasts. “Should cover the cleric’s fees.” 

“Should,” Sandra said, setting down the tankard. “You want to finish this? I’m going to go get some sleep.” 

“Are you certain?” Tarja asked. “The night’s still young.” 

“It’s too old for me.” 

“I’m not complainin’,” Quinn said, taking her drink. “Free beer.” 

“Goodnight,” Sandra said, ducking out of the bar and taking the exterior stairs to the second floor. Fiddling with her key, she unlocked her room and stepped inside. 

Finally alone, she slumped against the wall.

“Shit.” 

The party was her responsibility. She wasn’t officially their leader, but she’d been the one to accept this bounty, and she’d royally screwed it up. She’d led them into a trap, and if they made any money off this job at all, it would be because the cleric cut them a deal fixing the trouble that Sandra had brought down on them. 

And, when they were walking home, she’d peed her pants. 

There hadn’t been any more accidents, but that was as likely to simply be because she hadn’t needed to go. For all she knew, she could be about to have another accident without realizing. 

Kicking off her boots, she stripped out of her pack, belt, and other gear. Less burdened, she pulled off her pants and shirt, laid down on the straw mattress, and tried to get comfortable. 

She could hear the noise of the bar below, talk and laughter and cheers as people relaxed at the end of the day. She shut it out, shut her eyes, and went to sleep. 

…

Sandra woke up early. The earliest birds had started to chirp, but sunlight wasn’t even coming in through the window yet. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, thinking about going back to sleep. She was still tired, and she really didn’t want to get up and face the day. She was going to have to go talk to the cleric, check with Anand, try and rustle up more work if he couldn’t give her anything. 

It would be easier to just sleep through the morning. Put off her responsibilities for a while, slack off, let her future self handle things. 

Nah. If I go back to sleep, I won’t want to get up all day. 

She sat up in bed, wrinkling her nose. Something smelled foul. Judging by the intensity of the smell, something absolutely disgusting must have gone down in the bar. 

Or… it’s in the room. 

Leaning over, Sandra was going to peer under the bed and see if an animal had gotten inside, but the shift in weight made something squelch and squish between her legs. 

She froze, not wanting to look and confirm her suspicions to be true. As long as she held still and didn’t check, she could pretend that it was just her imagination. 

The stinky odor hit her again, caught up by a breeze from the window. She couldn’t keep pretending. Flipping up her blanket, she looked down. 

Sure enough, the wizard’s diaper had returned. Worse, it was full. 

 

 

Chapter 2

Sandra stumbled out of bed, tugging down her pants so she could look at the garment hanging heavily between her legs. 

“Crap.” 

No, wait. Poor choice of words.

It didn’t matter what her word choice was, though. The fact of the matter is, she’d woken up wearing a diaper. A smelly diaper, at that. 

She couldn’t tell if it was the same diaper from the dungeon. Regardless, it stood to reason that even if it wasn’t the exact same one, the diaper hanging around her hips now had something in common with the one that had appeared around her hips then. 

“Okay, uh… I can fix this,” she muttered, kicking off the pants hanging around her ankles. Unencumbered, she began pacing up and down the small room, waddling a bit so that she wouldn’t smush her diaper between her thighs as she thought. 

The first idea was obvious. 

Placing a hand on the front of the diaper, she cast prestidigitation, willing the diaper to be clean. 

It was a simple spell, with a simple, predictable effect. The magic surged and fizzled, grounding out and accomplishing nothing. The diaper was still there, still laden down with its… contents. 

“Huh?” Sandra said, trying again. The magic proved as useless the second time as the first, failing to do anything about the source of the room’s stink. 

That changed things, for the significantly worse. If she couldn’t use prestidigitation to clean herself, it might be a bad idea to even take off the diaper. She would just risk making a mess everywhere, instead of keeping it contained. 

For all she knew, the magic wouldn’t let her her get cleaned up at all. She could be doomed to be dirty forever, never able to clean herself, even with soap and a-

The diaper grew a little warmer, and she looked down, alarmed. “Am I peeing?” 

She wasn’t. Instead, the front of the diaper had begun to glow, a magical wave passing down from the front, down between her legs, and around the back. 

With the magic, came cleansing. The moisture evaporated, replaced by solid, dry padding, and the muck squelching against her backside simply vanished. 

Just like that, she was wearing a clean diaper, held snugly against her by the tapes. A little poof of baby powder escaped the top of the waistband, cleansing the room of the stinky, stale odor and replacing it with a sweet baby smell.

“One more thing for the cleric,” she muttered, grabbing her pants and tugging them back on over the diaper. They were baggy enough to hide the bulk, though the subtle crinkle of the plastic backing was still more than audible as she moved around experimentally.

Sandra briefly considered taking off the diaper, but if her magic was on the fritz, she didn’t even want to think about having another accident and wetting her pants where someone from the guild could see. 

Getting her belongings together, she put the crinkle out of her mind, braced herself for a tedious day of curse removal and cleanup work, and waddled out the door. 

The first thing she did was get a bowl of gruel from the innkeeper. Once the cheap breakfast was in hand, she made her way over to Anand. 

“Give me good news,” she said, skipping any preamble as she sat down. 

“Always good to see a friendly face,” Anand said, sipping from a mug of something frothy. 

She smiled. “Glad you’re in a chipper mood. Any new quests on the docket?”

“I didn’t say you were a friendly face.” Chuckling, the guild master reached in one of his bottomless pockets, pulling out a folded paper. “I’ve got a little something. Client needs a parcel delivered up to the City. Payment upon safe delivery.” 

“That’s a little out of our way, but we could make the trip,” Sandra rubbed at her chin, thinking about it. “What’s the take?” 

Anand checked the paper, frowning. “Fifteen gold, upon delivery.”

“You’re shitting me.” Sandra almost stormed off right there, but she held back her temper. “That barely covers expenses. Isn’t there anything else?” 

“Not for your level of skill,” Anand said, leaving the paper on the table. “Jobs are slow in these parts. There’s a black dragon a little ways north that needs cleared out, if you want a challenge, but I’d hate to see you turned into barbecue.” 

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Black dragons breath acid, not fire.” 

“Turned into pickles, then. Point is, you’d get your asses handed to you on a silver platter.” Anand sighed, taking a long pull of his ale. “You could always try and rustle up work with the locals. Might be a cave of goblins that they don’t want to pay guild rates for.” 

“We’re guild loyal.” Sandra shook her head, pushing up to her feet with a groan. “Let me get back to you? I don’t imagine anyone is raring at the bit to claim this.” 

“No, but it’s time sensitive. We don’t get this delivered soon, the client might go to another company.” Anand raised his mug in a toast. “Let me know by this afternoon?” 

“Of course.”

Sandra stood, hitched up her pants to ensure her diaper wouldn’t poke out above the waistband, and started walking towards the bar. Two steps in, she stopped. A subtle, wise figure was in the doorway, one hand held over his mouth, waving for her attention. 

“Hadrian?” she called, walking over to the entrance. “What’s-” 

He took her by the arm and turned so that his back was too the bar, then took his hand away from his mouth. The pacifier from the dungeon had returned, bobbing slightly in his mouth as the wizard unconsciously suckled it. 

“Oh, of course,” Sandra said, grabbing the loop and pulling the pacifier free. Hadrian gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he rediscovered his voice. Sandra nodded, pocketing the pacifier. “Take your time. Can you talk?” 

His voice initially had a lisp, but he was able to speak. “Can ‘ou understand me?” 

The pronunciation was no barrier, but Sandra was still taken aback, because he was speaking in Sylvan. Responding in common, she said, “Yes, can you understand me?” 

Hadrian’s brow furrowed. “What was that?” 

She switched to Sylvan as well. “Can you speak any languages besides Sylvan?” 

His lisp was completely gone when he said, “I’m speaking Sylvan?” 

“It’s at least a language,” Sandra shrugged. “Have you noticed anything else… strange?” 

“The… I don’t know the Sylvan word for the mouth bulb thing,” Hadrian said. “But that’s it. How are you dealing with your curse?” 

Sandra glanced around the room. She doubted many folks spoke Sylvan, but even with that in mind, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“If it helps, there’s no way we could have seen it coming. I was checking the magic scrolls that I took, some of them are far stronger than anything we’ve ever dealt with. This wizard is a much bigger threat than we thought.” Hadrian gestured to a table. “I haven’t been able to read the notes, yet, but it seems, from what happened to us and Quinn, that his work follows a sort of… theme.” 

They sat, and Sandra thought it over. “Yeah, I… wait.” Cheeks flushing, she looked over her shoulder and tried to tug up her pants, suddenly paranoid about the waistband of her diaper being visible. “How’d you know about my curse?” 

Hadrian snorted, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not that visible. I saw your trouble on the walk home yesterday.” 

“Oh.” Sandra let out a breath of relief. “Well, we’ve got enough money to pay the cleric. With luck, he’ll be able to get us all sorted out before the day is up.” 

“Don’t get your hopes too high. This is some high-level casting,” Hadrian hedged. “The local cleric might not be strong enough to break this magic.” 

“Well, then, we’ll go to the City,” Sandra said. “It’ll cost a bit more, but there are some priests there who are more than competent for curse removal. Don’t worry about it, we’ll get this all taken care of and you’ll be speaking common before you know it.”

She hadn’t really heard Tarja come up behind them, until she said, “Is this a secret conversation?” 

“Tarja,” Sandra said by way of greeting, scooting to the side so that their ranger could pull up a chair. “No, it’s not a secret, but Hadrian can’t speak Common right now.” 

“But he can speak?” Tarja asked, hopefully. “The curse is wearing off, just slowly?” 

“Yeah, it seems like.” 

“That’s good.” Tarja took a seat, spreading out a bit and taking up most of the leg room around the table. “I hope the same can be said for Quinn.” 

“What’s she saying?” Hadrian asked, in Sylvan.

Sandra translated, paraphrasing a bit. “She wanted to know what you were saying, is relieved that the curses are wearing off, and hopes that Quinn will get better in a similar way.”

Hadrian pressed his lips into a line. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Language and mental spells react differently than transmutation, especially when curses are involved. A physical effect like that might not wear off in the same way.” 

“Whats he saying?” Tarja asked. 

Gods, that’s going to get annoying, Sandra thought. “I’ll translate, just give me a second, it’s hard to switch back and forth. He said that physical curses are different from mind-affecting spells.” 

“Oh no,” Tarja said, her face growing distraught. “Is he certain?” 

Sandra saw no reason to translate the simple question. “Hadrian doesn’t run his mouth about things he’s uncertain of. Are you that worried about Quinn?” 

“Y-yes. Quinn,” Tarja confirmed. “That’s it. I feel guilty, because it’s my fault that he was cursed.” 

Sandra almost asked Tarja another question, but was interrupted by a couple chuckles around the bar. She knew why without having to look up, and called over her shoulder. “Quinn! Join us?” 

The burly half-orc grumbled as he walked over to the table, arms crossed over his rather busty chest. “Let’s get to the damned cleric already.” 

“You’re in a foul mood,” Sandra commented. “Something happen last night?” 

“A couple jokes, but nothing I can’t handle,” Quinn grumbled. “But I barely slept last night. Why didn’t one of you tell me that these would be so ungodly sensitive?” 

Sandra couldn’t help but smirk, though Tarja didn’t share in the amusement, saying, “Sorry, I should have thought of that. You’re normally a stomach sleeper, yes?” 

“Normally,” Quinn groaned. 

“I’m not hungry,” Sandra cut in. “I’m fine skipping breakfast and going straight to the cleric, how does everyone feel about that?” 

Her two Common-speaking allies nodded in agreement, and after Sandra translated for Hadrian, he agreed as well. 

Pushing to her feet, Sandra felt her diaper squelch a little between her legs, warm and damp against her thighs. Hiding her blush, she looked around to ensure nobody had noticed that anything was amiss. 

Tarja noticed her look. “What’s wrong?” 

“I- nothing,” Sandra said quickly. “Let’s get to the cleric.” 

Hadrian gave her a knowing look, not needing to speak the language to understand the exchange that had just gone down, but didn’t make a comment. Without further ado, they shuffled out of the bar, all varying levels of glum and grumpy. 

…

“Nothing?” Sandra asked, eyes wide. “You can’t dispel it even a little?” 

The cleric pressed his lips into a line. A devoted servant of Calistria, his robes were black and yellow, and cut to show off his supple limbs and the elven grace of his hips. It made him a little distracting to look at as he explained the trouble. “I’m not a miracle worker, and I’m not going to be for years. These curses that hit your wizard are well beyond me, and I don’t even need to give you a second glance to be sure that you’re just as far gone.” 

“Sandra?” Quinn asked, waiting his turn for the cleric’s examination. “You’re cursed, too?” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Tarja asked, concern in her voice. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Sandra interjected quickly, face flushing. “That is- I’m fine, it’s nothing that’ll matter to you. Cleric, do you know someone else who can fix this?” 

The cleric bowed his head in a nod, though he gave Sandra a playful look as she blushed. “I have some contacts in the City. The Temple of Calistria has members all across the realm, just find our symbol and ask for aid.”  

“What about me?” Quinn asked, stepping forward and pointing with a thumb towards his own chest, undoing a couple buttons to demonstrate the issue more clearly. “Can you do anything about this? They’re sore like nothing and I can’t get any sleep.” 

“Let me give it a good once-over, but if it’s the same wizard’s handiwork, I can’t make promises,” the cleric said, bending over to eye the large, voluptuous breasts that Quinn was sporting. It took him only a second to say, “These beauties aren’t the result of a curse.” 

“Huh?” Quinn asked, his tone getting angry. “What do you mean, ‘these ain’t the result of a curse’? Do you think I wanted this?”

“Maybe you didn’t, but that’s not the point, sweet,” the cleric said, staring without shame at Quinn’s exposed breasts. “The effect isn’t malicious, and for some, it’s downright…” he paused, choosing his words. “Beneficial. In short, you need something to dispel the magic, rather than removing a curse.” 

Quinn stared at him blankly. “Well… can you do that?” 

The cleric shook his head. “Again, not with my current skill level. This is potent work. Who exactly did you all tangle with?” 

All eyes fell on Sandra, but she could only shrug. “It was supposed to just be some easy target wizard. We still don’t know exactly who.” 

“Hmm,” the cleric mused, smirking a little. “Well, talk to my colleagues in the City. They’ll have a better idea of what to do.”

Quinn’s voice sounded a little desperate as he asked, “Isn’t there anything your spells can do? They’re… starting to hurt.” 

That took the cleric a moment to consider, before he had a realization. “Oh, I see. They’re not just decorative.” 

The half-orc blinked. “Huh?” 

“Get a breast pump,” the cleric suggested, eyes twinkling, “Or find someone willing to suckle them for you. Either way, you’ll find that your problem is resolved. Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

Sandra was about to say ‘no’, but Tarja cut in. “I could use your… services, in private, please.” 

“Tarja?” Sandra asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you okay?”

Tarja’s response was quick and sharp. “I’m fine. Cleric?”

He looked Tarja up and down for a long moment, eyes glittering with understanding. “I’ll probably give you the same news, Changeling, but I’d be happy to take a look.” 

Quinn finally picked up on the conversation. “You got hurt?” 

“I’m fine.” Tarja pointed towards the back. “Your rectory?” 

“Our pleasure room,” the cleric corrected. “My rectory is downstairs.” 

“Then let’s go there. Sandra, Quinn, Hadrian, I’ll meet you all back at the inn, alright?” 

Sandra didn’t like leaving this problem unaddressed, but arguing would be pointless. “Alright. Don’t dawdle. As soon as we get our things together, we’re going to the city.”

…

A chair scraped against the barroom floor as Sandra sat down across from Anand, setting down a beer in front of him. “Eighteen gold and we’ll do the job today.” 

The dwarf pressed his lips into a line, eyeing the brew and licking his lips. The bribe - and there was no beating around the bush, the beer was a small but unsubtle bribe - was meant to put him in a good mood, because there was arguing to be done. He accepted it, took a frothy sip, and said, “Rate is fifteen gold.” 

“That’s after the guild’s cut,” Sandra pointed out. “We both know the client’s paying more.” 

His eyes went hard, the pleasantries gone from the conversation. “Now, listen here-”

“I know,” Sandra cut in. “The guild works as hard as any outgoing adventurer. You make sure our fees get paid, you find the jobs, you negotiate the prices. I’m not looking to cut you out or see that you don’t get paid for your share of the work.” 

Anand glared, and Sandra could have sworn that his beard hairs were twitching in annoyance. “But?” 

“But,” Sandra conceded, “You have to do your share of the work. If you don’t negotiate a fair rate, that hurts everyone, and in this case you did not negotiate a fair rate.” 

“If you don’t like the job, don’t take it,” Anand growled. “Don’t come tell me how to do my job-” 

“Rations for four people, two ways,” Sandra said, holding up her fingers to count off. “That’s four gold. Lodging is another two when we arrive. That’s more than a third of the pay right there unless we start cutting corners. Do you expect us to eat wandermeal? To all crowd into a single room and get no sleep? The guild is supposed to be better than that.” 

Anand rubbed at his eyes. “If you don’t like the pay, you can let someone else take the job.” 

“Who?” Sandra demanded, prepared for that rebuttal. “It’s a parcel delivery. You know who lives in this town, and who’s staying here on furlough. Would you expect someone to come in from out of town to take this job?”

“You aren’t a guild master-” 

Sandra didn’t let him interrupt. “And do you expect that there won’t be any trouble with the delivery, that we won’t have to use arrows and spell components and potions if we get into a fight? Setting our prices based on the expectation that there won’t be trouble means we’re losing money at the first sign of conflict.” She finally ended her rant, giving Anand a chance to really respond. 

He didn’t, at least not until he could take a long pull from the beer she’d bribed him with, giving him time to think. “Damned stubborn girl. You should be grateful there’s work to be had at all.” 

“I’m not going to-”

“But, I see your point,” he interjected, pausing for a breath. “The rate for the job is fifteen gold.” 

Sandra blinked. “You just said-”

“The rate for the job is fifteen gold,” Anand clarified, swigging the last drops of the drink. “I’ll give you another five out of pocket when you get back. That’s twenty gold in total. I can’t go bending guild rules for you, but I can do you a favor.” 

Sighing in relief, Sandra sat back in the chair. “Thanks. What’s the parcel?”

Anand reached into his pocket for the folded quest paper. “You’re delivering a pegasus.” 

Dammit. I should have asked for twenty five. 

…

Sandra tugged at the reins, angrily coaxing the winged horse out of the stall. “Come on, girl, just-” the pegasus jerked its head, nearly tripping Sandra, and she jerked back in kind. “You son of a- dammit!” 

The mare bucked, wings flapping in the confined space, giving it more force than Sandra had expected. She was thrown back, landing on the hay-covered floor, feeling something squelch warmly beneath her with the impact. 

Am I wet? When did I- no time to worry about that, she had a pegasus to deliver. “Stupid beast, I’m trying to get you out of the tiny space. Isn’t that what you want?” 

“No, no, you’re doing this all wrong.” Tarja walked in, strolling right up to the pegasus without flinching. Sandra expected the beast to buck or react, but it didn’t, and when the ranger began stroking it’s head, it nickered in a pleased tone. “Pegasi are magnificent creatures. You can’t treat him like a mule and expect that he’ll come along quietly.” 

Sandra frowned, dusting herself off as she stood. “Him? I thought it was a mare.” 

The pegasus snorted in annoyance, then nickered something that managed to sound angry. Tarja smirked. “He says you are rude and stupid, and smell like pee,” she translated. “And if you want him to come along nicely, you’d better treat him with the respect that someone of his station deserves.”  

“His station?” Sandra asked. “This was just supposed to be a simple parcel delivery, for cripes’ sake. Who are we delivering him to?” 

The horse nickered more, and Tarja listened before explaining. “Not who, where. He’s joining up with a paladin at the temple of Erastil to go deal with that dragon, but on his own he’s worried about being ambushed if he travels on his own.” 

Sandra spat on the ground, annoyed. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? Just once I want a job to go smooth.” 

Gently leading the pegasus out of his stall, Tarja listened, translating once more. “He’s not so confident that we can protect him. I guess he doesn’t want… uh… he’s not certain of your skills in combat.” 

Eyes narrowing at the beast, Sandra asked, “What did he say, exactly?” 

“Eh… the translation isn’t perfect,” Tarja hedged. “But it was something like ‘impotent, helpless  piss-baby.’” 

Did he see? No, he couldn’t have, but... Sandra shook her head, dismissing the thought. The pegasus was just being insulting, it couldn’t know how on-the-mark its insults were. Directing her comments towards the horse, she said, “We can fight just fine. We’ll get you to your destination in one piece, don’t worry.” Facing Tarja, she added, “Did you see the others?” 

“Waiting outside, armed for bear,” Tarja confirmed. 

Sandra chewed on a thought, nodding. “Good. If we leave right away, we’ll get to the city before nightfall, but we have to get a move on. How’d your talk with the cleric go?” 

“Same news as you.” Tarja looked sullen, but if she wanted to talk about what had happened to her, she would. Prodding for details wouldn’t help, and Sandra was willing to drop the topic as long as it didn’t interfere with Tarja’s work.

The pegasus knickered, and no translation was needed for what he meant. Let’s get going already. 

Sandra agreed, but when she stepped out of the stables, she was surprised to have Quinn tap her on the arm and gesture to the side with his head. 

“Can I talk to you?” 

Sandra frowned, but followed him around the corner. “What’s wrong?” 

“My armor,” Quinn explained, the blush out of place on his crude features. “It… hasn’t changed back.” 

“Oh.” Sandra took that in, considering the implications. “Well, damn.” 

“What do you think the odds are we’ll get into a tussle?” Quinn asked, looking around in concern, even though he wasn’t wearing the frilly pink half-plate at the moment. “Because… Well, we’ll be on a public road all day.” 

“Skip it.” Sandra wasn’t as confident as she sounded, but she wanted her party members to be at ease. “We’ll be fine, and you’re light on your feet with or without it. We can replace it or get it un-cursed once we’re in the city.” 

The big man sighed in relief, nodding. “Okay. Thank you.”

It’ll be fine, right? Sandra thought, but she said only, “Of course.” 

...

The day was long, but for the most part, boring. 

In the interest of speed, they didn’t stop for lunch. The four of them ate trail rations as they walked, and Tarja fed the pegasus a few apples so they could keep moving. As they walked, her pants occasionally slipped down a little, but never below the rustling waistband of her diaper. So long as she hitched it up occasionally, there was no trouble. 

At some point in the early afternoon, Hadrian’s pacifier reappeared in his mouth, and Sandra had to pull it free once more. That earned them a round of strange looks from a passing tradesman and his apprentice, but the wizard only blushed and grumbled in Sylvan as a result. 

A little after that, just as Sandra was starting to worry about how saturated her diaper was becoming, it flashed with a quiet pulse of magic and was once again dry. The puff of baby powder that wafted up from her waistband was visible, but nobody noticed. Or, anyways, nobody commented, though Hadrian seemed to nod knowingly.

Dismissing her concerns as paranoia, Sandra kept trudging forward, watching for any bushwhackers who might be looking to nab a pegasus. The day slipped by, and the sun began to set on the horizon in front of them, forcing her to squint forward to see clearly.

Naturally, the attack came just before twilight. They were only a little ways from the City, but traffic was slow, and visibility looking forward was terrible. There was wheat growing distantly to the sides of the road, and scrub brush closer by. Simple makeup used to hide in the brush might not have worked in normal daylight, but with such poor visibility, Sandra saw them too late to avoid the ambush.

It was only as a figure moved that she could make out a silhouette. Adrenaline and wary caution coursed through her body, and she flicked out her hand on instinct, calling up a shadowy blade. There was no avoiding the attack, they were too far gone from that. They could only face the oncoming threat head-on, unless…

Her thoughts raced, time almost frozen as she considered her options. She had the initiative, having spotted the scoundrels before they charged, but she had to decide how to use it properly.

Only one of them has moved. There must be more, in the bushes to my right. If I charge, I could gut one of them before the music starts, put them on edge, give us a better chance. They might even flee. 

As Sandra shifted her weight, though, she considered what that would do. If she took off at a full charge, her pants would certainly slide down some, and in combat there’d be no chance to hitch them up. The party - and the client - would get a nice view of her diaper’s waistband. 

Let’s just be defensive, then. No need to play it risky. Raising her voice to call out a warning, she cried out, “We’re being attacked!” 

Her opportunity spent, she faced the oncoming bandits. 

It was hard to get an accurate count of them. They were in makeup, the light was poor, and they charged from all sides of the road. Some had bows, and shot in arrows from hiding spots in the wheat fields. Two got on both sides of Sandra, flanking her, slicing in with knives. She avoided one attack, letting it glance off her leather armor, but the other drew a thin cut across her arm. 

It was hard to take in the chaos of the battle. Two bandits were trying to get a rope around the pegasus, to keep him grounded. Someone else was facing off Quinn, hefting a big club, while the barbarian was forced on the defensive, trying to parry or dodge away from attacks. Tarja was at least on point, getting between two taller figures and Hadrian, ensuring that the wizard could cast his spells unimpaired. 

Sandra slashed back with her own dagger, but only scored a glancing blow, and in return got a cut that dug through the leather to draw blood around her belly, and another slash below the waist that she only narrowly kept from damaging a particularly sensitive area. Dammit. I’m supposed to surround them, not the other way around! “Quinn! I need you!” 

“Kinda busy!” he called back, slapping away another blow with his axe. “Can you- oof!” 

The attack was hard and heavy, and drove straight across Quinn’s chest, smashing into his tender breasts. Sandra had seen him take more damage than that and shrug it off before, but this time he seemed to react more, the pain taking more out of him than usual. 

Considering times when Sandra’s own breasts had been particularly tender, where even a light touch was painful, she couldn’t blame him. Still, it was damned inconvenient timing. 

The pegasus knickered as the rope got around his neck. He was flapping his wings furiously, trying to pull away, but Sandra could tell there was magic afoot and he couldn’t get higher than the rope would allow. Shit. Shit, shit, shit- 

Her own safety be damned, she lunged towards the bandits holding the rope. She received a painful cut across the shoulder blades in the escape, but it got her free of her old opponents and drove her shadow blade towards her new target. He yelped and dropped the rope, leaving only one man to keep the pegasus down. 

We need Hadrian to come in clutch here. Maybe if he has a scroll- 

Eyes darting to the back of the party, Sandra was in time to see her hopes dashed against the ground. Tarja was in a wide stance, battling with two of the rangers at once, deftly keeping them away from Hadrian while the wizard threw spells against the archers. As Sandra watched, though, a kick drove up between their changeling’s legs, and after a high yelp that echoed across the whole fight, she fell to the ground, doubled over in a fetal position. 

The two bandits took their opportunity and closed on Hadrian, forcing him away from the party, casting defensive spells to keep their blades away from his tender skin. 

“Quinn?” she asked, but he was on the ground, not moving. The bandit with the club was closing towards her, along with the two she’d run away from, meaning there were four enemies around her and a fifth holding the rope. 

They were going to lose. All she could do was protect the client. Lunging towards the man holding the rope, she wrestled it from him, jerking and kicking, getting it free for barely a moment. “GO!” 

He needed no further encouragement, flapping into the air and disappearing above the treeline. 

Sandra watched him go. They were overwhelmed, and they were going to lose. If they surrendered, maybe they’d be left with their lives after being stripped of their possessions. They could live to fight another day. 

“We surrend-” she started, but she was cut off by a loud, high whistle coming from further up the road. 

In an instant, the bandits scattered. There was no hesitation amongst them, they simply vanished into the surrounding terrain, disappearing between rows of crops like rats into the walls. 

Sandra only needed to wonder about that for a moment before she spotted the mounted soldier round the corner a hundred yards up the road. His armor gleamed, and within a second, a half dozen more cavalrymen were behind him, riding at a clipped pace towards her. 

Exhausted, bleeding, she glanced at Quinn. He was breathing, and starting to move sluggishly. Hadrian was mostly okay, and though Tarja was still in apparent pain, she wasn’t badly hurt. 

The breeze shifted, and Sandra wrinkled her nose. With that smell in her nostrils, she also became aware of the weight in her diaper, the mushy mass making it sag around her hips. Oh gods, no, why did it have to be now? 

Looking down, her heart sank further. The bandit’s knife hadn’t missed, like she had thought. There was a broad slash over the front of her pants, leaving a flap of fabric hanging down, exposing her undamaged - but quite soggy - diaper. 

No time to do anything about it. The cavalry was close enough to call out. “Ahoy there!” 

“Hello!” she said, hitching up her pants, holding the slashed flap of her pants in place over the diaper, trying to brazen her way through the conversation. As much fabric as had been cut, she had to use both hands. 

The leader pulled up, towering over Sandra about five feet away, sword drawn. “Aye, maiden, how do you fare?” 

“I’m no maiden,” she glowered. “We’re with the adventurer’s guild. We were ambushed. Who are you?” 

He surveyed the party, lips pressed in a line. “I… see. How recently did you join? This is no place for rookies.” 

“We’re not-” Sandra balled her hands into fists, wrinkling the material between her fingers, and shook her head. “It was just an off day. We’ll be fine once we take some potions. You never said who you were.”

“We’re with the city guard,” he explained, gesturing to the other riders, a small smile - a smirk? - on his face. “Out on patrol. We saw the pegasus and came running. Are you sure that you and your companions don’t need an escort to safety, madame? You look in no fit condition to fight anyone.”  

She turned around to look. Hadrian was helping Tarja stand, though she still looked queasy and sick to her stomach, and Quinn had only just gotten to a sitting position. 

“We’re fine,” she insisted. “We’ll make our own way.” 

“Well, if you need any aid, we offer it at no charge. We’re not adventurers, we serve the good of the kingdom. We’ve got a bard, he can heal your wounds, or…” he wrinkled his nose, more in show than in reaction to the smell. “Cleanse anything that’s been soiled.” 

A couple of the patrolling guards kept a straight face, but two broke out in tittering laughter and Sandra felt her face burn bright red, from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I am fine!” she snapped, jabbing a finger at the guard, dropping part of the damaged fabric. “We don’t need you.” 

“As you say, maiden,” the guard leader said, twirling a finger in the air. At his signal, the rest of the guards turned, trotting back up the road, watching out for any further bandits waiting in ambush. 

Hadrian stepped up beside her a moment later, watching the guards leave. “Do you need me to use mending on-” 

“Just do it,” Sandra snapped, focused on not letting her eyes tear up. 

He touched the fabric, knitting the pants back together in a matter of seconds. “I don’t have enough infernal healing prepared for everyone, but if you need a potion-” 

Sandra cut him off. “We don’t have money to be using potions. I’m not hurt that bad, anyways.” 

“Are you sure?” he put a hand on her shoulder, his tone comforting. “It’s alright, Sandra, nobody was that badly hurt. We’ll live to fight another day.” 

She jerked away, trudging forward, aware but unable to do anything about her slight waddle. “I’m fine. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.” 

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the story so far.

[Scarlet]

This is really good. I love how the curses are so specific and subtle yet effective. I'm really curious to see what happened to Tarja, but given her reactions in combat, I have my suspicions. 

[Kingdark]

So far, I'm liking the story a lot. Is it based on the already existing dungeon and diapers rpg game?

[PeculiarChangeling]

17 hours ago, Kingdark said:

So far, I'm liking the story a lot. Is it based on the already existing dungeon and diapers rpg game?

The story is based off of the Pathfinder universe and setting, with homebrew items and spells (mostly based off of existing ones, just changed for the ABDL theme) added in for flavor!

[Panther Cub]

OMG I am hooked! I can't wait to read the next installment!

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 3

“Just… let us in, for the love of Desna.”

The guard looked at the ragged party, wrinkling his nose in a conspicuous way, then looking back at the guild papers. “Where’d you get this?” 

Sandra rubbed at the bridge of her nose, groaning. “It’s ours. We’re a licensed party with the guild.” 

He didn’t hide his disdain as he surveyed them. “If the four of you are guild members, their standards must have gone through the floor. You’re not just some vagabonds who stole these papers off a real party, are you?” 

Sandra damned their horrible timing. If they’d gotten to the city ten minutes sooner, it would have been to open gates. Now, after sunset, they were at the will of the evening guard. If she couldn’t convince him to let them through, they could be stuck camping outside the walls until sunrise. 

“Gods dammit all…” Sandra muttered, reaching out for their guild license. “Just let us in. You’ve got no reason to hold us.”  

“Ah, ah,” the guard warned, holding up the paper, out of reach. “It’s after sunset, I’ve got the authority to keep anyone out I deem suspect. I think you might have stolen these papers.”

Sandra tried to snatch at the folded-up license in his hands, but he held it further up, and there was no getting to them without getting violent. Looking back at her friends, who were all a few paces back, she glowered. “What do you want? A bribe? We’re almost broke, I don’t have anything to give you.” 

The guard touched his breastplate in mock offense. “Do you think so little of us? We’re motivated by protecting the city and its people, not by how much gold we can hoard.”

“You want something,” Sandra grumbled. “What is it?” 

Flashing his teeth in a mocking grin, the guard said, “Admit that the guild’s standards have gone through the floor, to let such sorry excuses like you in.” 

Sandra couldn’t even work up enough anger to want to punch the guard. Avoiding eye contact, she kept her voice low so that her party wouldn’t hear. “The guild’s standards have gone through the floor to let us in.” 

“And,” the guard gloated. “That you’re a bunch of posers who fight worse than you stink.” 

Flushing from ear to ear, Sandra mumbled, “And we’re a bunch of posers who fight worse than we stink.” 

“Alright then,” the guard said, passing back their guild paperwork with a sarcastic smile. “I think you’ve confirmed that these belong to you after all. Have a nice visit in the City.” 

Facing her party, Sandra waved them over as the guard began opening the gate. She wanted to be more pissed than she was. Not literally, maybe, her diaper already felt like it was sloshing around between her legs, but figuratively there just wasn’t any anger in her. She was tired, and humiliated, and lacked any fuel to challenge the guard’s infuriating power trip. 

Then again, that was probably for the best. Arguing more would have gotten them barred from the city, and it was hard to be intimidating when everyone could smell what was weighing down the back of her trousers. 

The side door that led through the wall was unlocked and opened, and the four of them trudged through. Some ten feet down, the far door was opened by a second guard, giving access to the city proper. 

Stepping through, Sandra looked around, let her shoulders slump, and stopped walking. 

They’d made it to the City. 

They were close to broke, without the commission she’d been banking on. She couldn’t show her face at the guild bar in a smelly diaper, and they couldn’t afford to stay at any other inn. 

“Sandra?” Tarja asked, stepping up behind her. “Are you okay?” 

She tensed at the changeling touching her shoulder, in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. It was a stupid question, that she saw no point in answering. 

“Where should we go from here?”

“... I don’t know.” Sandra’s voice was low, almost a whisper. 

Tarja stepped closer. “What?”

“I don’t know what to do!” Sandra snapped, wheeling on the party. “I screwed up, okay? I got us into trouble, and then I got us into more trouble, and now we’re in deep shit and we’ve got no way of fixing it. Do I need to spell it out?” 

Tarja shook her head. “Sandra, you’re not-” 

“Save it.” She turned her back on the group, not wanting any more argument. 

By the heavy boot steps, it was Quinn who stepped up behind her. “Let’s get to the temple. The inn can wait, and we might be able to get Sandra cured.” 

Even he knows I’m a joke. 

“Come on, let’s get going.” Quinn waved them forward, strolling down the road as if nothing was wrong. He was taking his curse in stride more than Sandra was, at least, but that only made her feel worse. She was responsible for what had happened to him, too, he shouldn’t have been the one taking charge to fix it. 

Waddling slightly, disgusted by the muck that was squelching against her thighs, Sandra followed behind. Even Hadrian followed, though without understanding Common, he would only have the barest gist of what had just gone down. 

At least the temple was easy to spot. Calistria wasn’t exactly a subtle god, and her followers had built temples in kind. The ostentatious building near the edge of the market square towered over its neighbors, black and yellow, like an enormous hornet. The heavy doors were open, and inside, past the doors to private dungeons, was an open cathedral for prayer, self-flagellation, and consultation. Only a few people were there at this late hour, but it wasn’t totally abandoned either. 

“Hello?” Quinn called, stepping inside. 

At the front of the hall, standing over an altar, a priestess stood in long, black-and-yellow robes. “Come in, my children! What do you seek?” 

“Curse breaking and magic stuff!” Quinn called back, walking inside. Sandra came in after him, staring mostly at the floor, mindful of the rest of the party as they looked around the open space. 

“Can you pay?” the priestess called, from her raised pedestal. “Or did you come here expecting charity?” 

“We have… some… money,” Quinn said, glancing back at Sandra. She only shook her head in response. Quinn faced her once more. “I have a couple gold!” 

The priestess chuckled, her mirth rippling through the whole temple. “If that’s all, then I expect model behavior from all of you. If you wish my help, you will allow me to work as I see fit. Understood?” 

Her tone sent a shiver down Sandra’s back. This priestess had power, and it was reflected in things as simple as her laugh. 

Stepping down, the priestess walked sensually towards the four of them, hips sashaying from side to side as she walked between the cathedral’s pews. 

A foot away from Quinn, tall enough to look down at him, she said, “What was done to you, then, half breed?” 

“I… isn’t it obvious?” Quinn asked, looking down at his chest. “I didn’t ask for these breasts.” 

“You could have fooled me,” the priestess giggled. “They suit you quite well.” 

Quinn blushed, but didn’t let himself get distracted. “My armor was also transmuted, it’s now some sort of pink, frilly thing.” 

She arched an eyebrow. “Do you have it with you?” He nodded. “Let me see.” 

Reaching in his bag, Quinn produced the mass of pink lace and fabric, holding it up for the priestess to examine. She looked it over, turned it a few times in her hands, and passed it back. “Which of you stinks?” 

Sandra flushed, looking up slightly. “I… that’s me.” 

“I see. What was done to you?” 

“... a cursed diaper.” Sandra looked back down, staring at her toes. 

Tittering, the priestess asked, “Why did you put on a diaper?” 

“I didn’t know-” Sandra started, catching herself. Stay on her good side. “It looked like clean underwear.” 

“You put on clean underwear that you’d found in a dungeon?” She raised an eyebrow. “Be honest with me, now.” 

“I…” Sandra flushed deeper. “I’d wet myself earlier.” 

“Aha, that’s it.” The priestess stepped over to Sandra. “Let me see. I need to examine it directly.” 

“But…” Sandra looked around the cathedral room. They’d drawn a few eyes onto them already, and she couldn’t- 

The priestess took Sandra’s jaw in her hand, forcing Sandra to look up and make eye contact with her. “Child. I broach no disobedience in my temple. Show me, now.” 

Burning red, eyes watering as she stared into the priestess’s hard gaze, Sandra reached down and unbuckled her pants. 

As much as they’d been straining to stay up over her bulging diaper, the pants fell to the ground almost instantly. Her sagging, sodden diaper was exposed to the temple, stained a dark yellow that faded to brown at the bottom. 

At least nobody in the temple laughed, save for the priestess, who chuckled at Sandra’s timid obedience. Crouching, she squeezed the front of Sandra’s diaper, then reached around back and pressed a hand into the seat, testing its weight like a matron determining whether Sandra needed a change. 

This groping lasted for most of a minute, with the priestess’s knowing smirk never leaving Sandra’s field of view. When she was done, she stepped back, making eye contact once more. “I like you, child. Do not move.” 

Sandra almost asked, ‘why’, but there was no point. Ashamed that things had gotten to this point, she looked down at her toes and stood perfectly still. 

“You,” the priestess snapped, looking at Tarja. “Your voice is cracking, you’re standing wide, and you’ve got the look of someone who’s just taken a swift kick where one would particularly want to avoid. Shall I assume the obvious without needing to shame you in front of the cathedral?” 

Why does she get to keep her dignity? Sandra fumed, while Tarja passively nodded. 

“And the wizard,” the priestess mused, tapping a finger on her mouth as she considered. “Is he language-locked?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Quinn said. “I think he’s only speaking Sylvan right now, but I’m not sure. I’ve got no ear for tongues.” 

“Well then,” the priestess declared, stepping back. “I can do nothing to fix your woes.” 

“What?” Sandra snapped, anger managing to come out, finally. Stepping forward and jabbing a finger at the priestess, she yelled, “You put me through all that for nothing? Just so you could-” 

The priestess waved a hand, and Sandra was thrown on her ass, landing with an unfortunate squelch. She opened her mouth to yell, but found her voice was gone. 

“I told you not to move!” The priestess snapped. “Now, child, stay silent and listen.” 

The rest of the party gaped, attempting to speak, but to no avail. It had to have been a radius effect then. Sandra could have moved, walked out of the aura and yelled at the priestess, but it seemed like that sort of tantrum would just get her into more trouble. 

“I can do nothing to fix your woes,” the priestess continued, sharply. “But I know who did this to you, and I can give you both resources to mitigate your afflictions, and information on how to find the wizard who cursed you. However, if you are going to yell and gripe like petulant children, then I see no reason why I should lend you aid!” 

No. I did it again. We had something good, and I ruined it, and- 

“Stop your whimpering,” the priestess snapped, reaching out her hand towards Sandra. “And stand.” 

There was no reason not to obey. Wiping at her nose, Sandra took her hand and got up, a little off-balance. 

“You disobeyed,” the priestess continued. “After being given explicit instructions, you decided to bite the hand that would feed you. If you wish my help, you will first accept whatever punishment I deem fit. Understood?” 

Sandra opened her mouth, then remembered the silence effect and nodded her head. 

Without any further warning, her grip tightened around Sandra’s wrist and she began walking towards the head of the cathedral, talking all the while. “I am going to spank you ten times. You may balk and cry all that you wish. If you tell me to stop, I will stop, and you will not be allowed back into this temple. Understood?” 

Away from the aura of silence, Sandra stammered, “Y-yes!” 

“This is going to hurt, child. Do you understand that?” Her tone was no longer angry, but it was more firm than ever as she dragged Sandra up onto the raised platform. 

Dragging out a seat from behind the lectern, the priestess sat down, taking Sandra with her, twisting the unfortunate rogue’s arm so that her diapered bottom was waving in the air. 

I can’t fail them again. 

Sandra gritted her teeth, bracing for impact. Before the spankings began, though, the priestess dug in her robes and, from her component pouch, retrieved a few coarse hairs that she twiddled between her fingers. 

Why… Sandra wondered, before recognizing them more specifically as hairs from a bull. Oh. No. Shi-

With her strength enhanced by magic, the Priestess brought her hand down like a thundercrack. It hit the back of Sandra’s diaper, and though there was a layer of thick padding and soft muck that cushioned the blow slightly, the pain was still enough to rock Sandra forward and elicit a sudden, involuntary whimper. 

She barely noticed the way that the spank mushed around her mess, smearing it into every corner of her diaper, but as the sudden stinging pain started to fade, she became aware of that element too. Just as she was starting to feel disgusted, though, another thunderous spank came down, and humiliation was replaced by pain. 

I can’t- I can’t fail them! 

Hands balling into fists, Sandra braced herself for the next impact. 

It wasn’t enough. As the priestess’s open hand came down on her backside, Sandra cried out, her whimpers echoing through the entire cathedral, the acoustics amplifying her helpless cries of pain.

Another blow, and tears began streaming down Sandra’s face. She’d been cut before, she’d been stabbed, she even got set on fire once by a particularly devilish trap, but all that pain had been tempered by adrenaline. This just hurt. 

The fifth blow almost broke her. Sandra clutched at the priestess’s legs, sobbing openly, kicking her feet. 

It’s too much. I can’t- I have to stop, I have to- 

For just a moment, the priestess’s hand faltered, and Sandra heard her whisper. “Is it too much, baby?” 

The reprieve was barely a fraction of a second, but the words wormed their way into Sandra’s thoughts. 

I’m not a baby. I can do thi- 

“AAAH!” she screamed, voice growing hoarse. The pain was immense, but her resolve had been tempered. 

The next spanking came, and she sobbed, but she didn’t even think of stopping. She couldn’t give up on her party, not when they were counting on her. 

She lost count, but it didn’t much matter. It was over when it was over. 

Sandra continued to cry over the priestess’s knee long after the spanks ended, as the stinking pain resolved into tender bruising. Soft fingers rubbed circled on her back, and the priestess whispered quiet words that were lost over her crying. The words didn’t matter, it was the tone that was important. 

Sitting her up, the priestess pulled Sandra into a hug, whispering in her ear. “The bruises will resist magical healing, but they will fade in time. How do you feel?”

“I…” Sandra sniffled, wiping at her face. “I… I did it.” 

The priestess flashed a knowing smile. “Oh?”  

“I didn’t fail them,” she clarified. “I… I made it.” 

“That you did.” The priestess smiled, and inhaled sharply. “Doesn’t it smell sweet?” 

Brow furrowing, Sandra almost responded with a sarcastic quip, but then she realized that the foul stink that had been following her around for the past hour had vanished, replaced with a softly perfumed baby powder. 

“Did you…?” 

“No,” the priestess corrected. “It’s a self cleaning spell, child. Every six hours, or every hour after you’ve made a stinky diaper, it’ll purge itself.” 

“How do you know that?” Sandra asked. “Could you detect that-” 

“I know who did this to you. I’ve met him,” the priestess explained. “Let’s get your party together, and then I’ll tell you all I can.” 

...

Sandra was reluctant to sit down, but the priestess had set five chairs around the table, and it was clear she wasn’t going to start until they were all seated. 

Wincing, she sat down on the wooden chair, her tender bottom protesting at the hard surface. The padding offered by her diaper was cold comfort - literally, since after refreshing itself, it was cool and comfortable - that didn’t much mask how badly the bruises were stinging. 

She put up with it. It wasn’t a fraction as bad as the spanking had been. 

“My children,” the priestess said, taking her seat at the head of the table. “The threat you are up against is one that, frankly, you have no business fighting at your current skill level.” 

“So, we’re underdogs,” Quinn said. “Underdogs have won before.” 

“More like newborn whelps,” the priestess corrected. “I’ve met the wizard that did this to you, and he’s no force to meddle with. If you go after him, it’s entirely possible that you’ll end up far worse off than you are now.” 

“So, we’ll grind on the way,” Sandra said, nodding. “It’s a big threat. We’ll be careful.” 

The priestess shook her head. “Don’t be so certain of your course until you’ve heard me out. You may dislike your current state, but imagine yourself, not just incontinent, but trapped in a nursery, incapable of thinking about anything save for filling your diapers. He’s done that, and worse, to those who tried to get in his way.”

Sandra paused. She could sense the hesitation around the table, coming from everyone save Hadrian, who still had no idea what was being said. 

She took charge. “We don’t abide bullies. We’ll train hard and prepare first, but we’re not going to let this slide forever. Who is he?” 

The priestess’s eyes sparkled. “I don’t know his name, but he calls himself the Wizard of Paraphilia. He got his start with the temple, but his goals soon grew past the domain of Calistria. I know not what, but he’s searching for something, and everyone who’s gotten in his way, even incidentally, has been left humiliated.” 

“What do diapers and frilly outfits have to do with his research?” Tarja asked. “I’ve heard of wizards seeking power, of course, but this is… different.” 

“I don’t know. It’s frankly unprecedented, but he doesn’t seem to be seeking power in the strictest sense.” The priestess rubbed at her chin, considering. “Last that I heard, he was somewhere in the northern mountains, where the abandoned mines are.” 

“Apparently he’s not there, because he had a base set up in a dungeon a day’s travel from here, by Marston,” Sandra said. “Any idea what he might be doing locally?” 

“He moves around, to avoid direct confrontations,” the priestess said. “If there’s one thing that matches his ability in humiliations, it’s his ability to teleport. He can have a stronghold a thousand miles away from where he’s working and never skip a beat.” 

Quinn cut right to the chase. “Then how do we fight him?” 

“Well, you don’t mindlessly pursue,” the priestess said. “If I were to go about it, I’d try to find what he was after, and use that to set a trap. Whether you can make good on that trap, though… it’s no mean thing.” 

“It’s something to start with,” Sandra said, sighing. “Anything else you can give us?” 

The priestess considered it. “Half-orc. What’s your name?” 

“Quinn, ma’am,” he said, automatically. 

“Quinn. You may as well wear that bra you found. It can’t affect you any more than it already has, and you’ll find you hurt less if you give them support. You’ll also want to get a pump.” 

Their bloodrager frowned, brow furrowing. “A pump? Like, for a well? Why-”

“Quinn,” Tarja cut in. “For the milk.” 

He blinked a couple times in realization. “Oh.” 

“Your wizard should get his languages back in a matter of days. He seems quick enough that the curse won’t hamper him for long. The pacifier, though… not much you can do about that, save to remove it when it shows up.” 

“What about me?” Tarja asked, blushing a little. “And my-” 

“A few options, for you,” she said. “I’d recommend getting your armor… readjusted, to provide a little more protection there. For the other effects, you might just seek out a potions maker who can keep your hormones level. Nothing specifically bad will happen if you don’t, but you’ll find yourself changing in ways you may not appreciate.” 

Tarja sat back, glancing around uncertainly at the rest of the party. There was no judgement for what she was going through, though, and she relaxed. 

“And, for you…” the priestess said, looking down at Sandra. 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t forget to drink plenty of water. You may wish to dehydrate yourself, to avoid as many accidents as possible. Don’t.” 

Her tone made it clear that this was an instruction, not a question. Sandra felt the odd suspicion that if she didn’t obey, the priestess would come looking for her and make her drink water. 

“Thanks,” Sandra said. It wasn’t the news she wanted, but it was the best news she would get. Getting to her feet - she wanted to not be sitting on a hard surface if at all possible. “I appreciate all your help.” 

A small smile played over the priestess’s lips. “All of it?” 

Sandra blushed. She didn’t deny it. 

…

The nearest guild-friendly bar was a bit bigger than the Sodden Songbird, but the grime was a bit worse. It was a tradeoff Sandra was willing to make, since their rooms were cheap for licensed adventurers, and she didn’t feel like camping. 

“Four rooms,” she told the tavern’s owner, leaning against the bar rather than sitting in one of their metal stools. “Or, four beds. Whatever’s cheaper.” 

“Got some double rooms,” the barkeep replied, nodding. “You’re guild, right?” 

“Right,” Sandra said. “Came into town after a job.” 

“Sure thing. Lemme check if both the double rooms are open, I’ll let you know in a moment. Drinks?” 

“Four, please, and whatever you’ve got for grub.” 

The barkeep nodded. “I’ll bring it by in a minute.” 

“Thanks.” Sandra knocked on the bar and turned to walk back to their table, where her party was commiserating. 

Hadrian gestured to a particular chair, and Sandra eyed it for a moment before sitting down. 

To her surprise, it was cold. Not icy, just cool enough to convey the temperature through her diaper and soothe her aching backside. “O-oh. Thanks.” 

Hadrian replied in Sylvan. “Ray of Frost is more useful than people give it credit for. I’ll just reuse it every minute or so to keep things cool.” 

“That’s clever.” Sandra relaxed into the seat. It wasn’t exactly a pain killer, but it was soothing. “Well, we didn’t get paid, but we got some information. That’s better than nothing.” 

“Damn pegasi,” Quinn grumbled. 

“Agreed,” Tarja added. “Majestic creatures they may be, but they’re cheapskates.” 

“Suppose Anand will still give us the five-” Sandra started, stopping when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

“You with the guild?” 

She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was deep, gruff, and threatening. “Who’s it to you?” 

Their hand didn’t move, and it felt more and more like a threat. “There was a scuffle outside of town today. Someone tried to get at a pegasus. Someone with the guild got in their way.” 

Under the table, Sandra spun her fingers, calling up an umbral dagger. Gaze moving to her party members, she got ready for a fight. “Sir, I’m going to ask that you remove your hand from my shoulder right this second, or you’ll get a firsthand experience of what happens when the guild gets in your way.” 

The hand pulled away, and Sandra looked back at the figure. He was tall, muscled, a barbarian by the looks of him, with flowing golden hair that came down past his shoulders. 

And, pinned on his robes was the badge of a guild master. 

“Oh,” she said, feeling sheepish. “I- Um, excuse me. I thought you were coming for a little payback.” 

He laughed, and his laugh was a stark contrast to his rough voice. “You think some no-name bandits would come looking for payback in a guild friendly bar?” 

Shoulders relaxing, Sandra chuckled. “Fair point.”

The guild master leaned over the table. “So, you were the ones escorting the pegasus?”  

“That’s right.” 

His hand moved, and a heavy canvas pouch landed on the table, making a jingling ‘thunk’ sound. “He came by to commend you on your work. Said you could have run, but you put yourself in harms way and almost got killed cutting him free.” 

“So…” Sandra eyed the coin bag. It would be rude and improper to pour it out and count it on the table, but she was tempted to anyways. “We’re getting paid after all?” 

“He wasn’t about to argue that you didn’t finish the job when you saved his life,” the guild master pointed out. “Said he threw something else in there, too.” 

Her curiosity overtook her sense of propriety and Sandra picked up the bag, turning it over on the table. 

Fifteen coins jingled onto the table. Ten were gold, but five glimmered with shiny, silvery refinement. Platinum. 

Not fifteen gold, then. Sixty. 

Her eyes widened looking at the haul. It still wasn’t a lot, some well-to-do adventurers would spend more than that on a single round of drinks, but it was enough to cover their expenses for a good long while. 

Long enough to get another job, maybe, or… long enough to go north. 

“While you’re in town,” the guild master said, still standing by the table. “I might have a job for you.” 

“Yeah?” Sandra asked. “What is it?” 

The guildmaster glanced to his side. “Another escort job. There’s a merchant’s daughter who turned eighteen recently, and she’s getting married by the capital.” 

Sandra nodded. “Dangerous?” 

“Not overly. There’s nobody who wants to stop the wedding, so far as we’re aware. It’s not as though it’s a political alliance they could foil. You’d just have to watch out for the usual ruffians.”

“Pay?” Sandra raised an eyebrow. If it was another pittance, she’d… well, she’d still take the job, but she’d be crabby about it. 

“Five thousand gold.” 

“Done.” 

 

Another chapter down! Chapter 4 is on my commission queue, but since that queue is a mile long, it might be a while before it gets posted. I really like how this one turned out - the blend of fantasy kink with regular kink worked quite well.

My commission slots are currently closed, but if you want to support my writing, consider chipping in a couple dollars on Patreon: www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling
You'll also get early access to all my noncommissioned work, and at the 5$+ tier, you'll get access to an exclusive story every month that only Patrons get to read, and the ability to vote on what that exclusive story will be. 

[kerry]

On 5/26/2020 at 2:15 AM, PeculiarChangeling said:

The horse nickered more, and Sandra listened before explaining.

This is in Ch 2, and it should clearly be Tarja.

[PeculiarChangeling]

5 hours ago, kerry said:

This is in Ch 2, and it should clearly be Tarja.

Thanks! I've fixed that.

[LessThanSavory]

Really like the story so far! Can't wait to learn more about this wizard of odd.

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter, I wonder Tarja's curse is.

[Panther Cub]

Please update this story soon!

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 8/6/2020 at 5:07 PM, Panther Cub said:

Please update this story soon!

It's a commission, so updates are dependant on the client, and on how quickly I can get through my queue.

That said, good news! Chapter 4 will be coming out very shortly. I finished a draft of it recently and just need to polish and fix some continuity errors within

[Panther Cub]

OOOOH! Okay, understood. Also, YAY!

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 4

For the second time in as many days, Sandra wished she’d asked for the details of an escort mission before she’d accepted it. 

She would still have accepted the job, of course. Five thousand gold was far too much for her to pass up on, and they’d be headed up in the direction she wanted to go to anyways. If she’d gotten more information, though, she might have invested in a pair of earplugs before setting out. 

“Jeez, be careful with that! That box is worth more than your whole commission, and if you so much as scuff the outside, you won’t get a single copper piece!” 

Sandra glanced over, to see what their charge was whinging about. Quinn was loading up a cart, stacking it up with the boxes upon boxes of luggage that they were delivering along with the girl. He wasn’t being rough at all, and as far as Sandra could tell, he hadn’t so much as scratched one of the crates. 

Mentally, Sandra made a note of the fifteenth thing that had been complained about since they started work half an hour prior. 

Karena Iris Din’Vatra was… a lot. 

She’d worked with spoiled rich kids before. Given that her party worked on commission, Sandra had learned to play the diplomatic dance where she did her best not to sneer at the arrogant, out-of-touch complaints that the wealthy would often come up with. Even with that experience, though, Karena was testing her patience. 

Five thousand gold, she reminded herself, returning her attention to the map. 

At a comfortable pace, it was two days' travel to reach the Capital. That meant they’d have to make camp with the kid at least once. If tensions got frayed too quickly, the trip could turn out to be a real nightmare. 

“Karena,” she said, waddling from the front of the cart over to their charge. “Why don’t you let me handle the gear, so you can relax a bit before we start our travels?” 

“Puh-lease,” Karena sneered. “This half-orc would knock everything over with his tits the moment I looked away. I know how you servant types work - the moment nobody’s watching to make sure you do your job right, you start half assing it.” 

Quinn looked over his shoulder, rolling her eyes at Sandra, but she forced herself to keep smiling. “Alright, well, suit yourself.” 

She managed to keep the smile present right up until she turned around, walking to the front of their caravan. Four horses for the party, two big pack horses to pull the cart, and a particularly majestic stallion for Karena to ride. Tarja was at the front, saddling Karena’s stallion, quietly whispering to the horse as she did. 

“How’s it faring?” Sandra asked. 

“I don’t believe anyone has ever taught that girl manners in her entire life,” Tarja replied, quietly. “Who would honestly want to marry her?” 

“From what I understand, it’s a political marriage,” Sandra whispered back. “She wanted to settle down and live in a castle, and her husband-to-be stands to benefit from marrying into the Din’Vatra family of merchants. She only just turned eighteen, but I guess she couldn’t wait to get out of the house.” 

“Well, not the house,” Tarja commented. “The Din’Vatras don’t have a manor or stable home. Poor kid’s probably never spent more than a month or two in the same place before moving on to the next city.” 

“You’re defending her?” Sandra asked, incredulous.

Tarja shook her head. “Not her behavior, but… it can’t be easy to make friends when you’ve got no idea where you’ll be living in a month.” 

"It can't be easy to make friends when you're a horrible wretch, either," Sandra muttered. "But she’s our problem for two days, so we'll have to make nice. If I start getting too… abrasive with her, tip me off, would you?” 

“What do you want me to do?” Tarja asked. 

“Just…” Sandra considered it. “Tell me that I should check the road for traps. It’ll give me an excuse to take a walk and clear my head.”

“Sure thing, Sandra.” Tarja turned her attention back to the stallion, pulled two more straps, and said, “We’re ready to travel, if Quinn’s done loading the cart.” 

“He should be.” Sandra nodded. “Let me make sure Hadrian’s ready to go.” 

Their wizard was busy meditating in a nearby clearing, preparing his spells for the day. Sandra approached, watching from a distance. She knew better than to interrupt his progress. 

He’d been able to speak Common when he woke up, bringing his total known languages to two, though the pacifier was stubbornly reappearing in his mouth on a regular basis. It didn’t interrupt his meditation, fortunately, but it still had to be a nuisance. 

Hadrian was just getting finished up as she approached, making a couple small notes in his spellbook and standing to face her. Pacifier stuck in his mouth, he walked over so that Sandra could take it out for him.

Once she’d popped it free and stuck it in a pocket, he said, “All ready to go? I have the sense that this is going to be a very satisfying trip.” 

“You haven’t spent the last hour around Karena,” Sandra said in a low tone. “The kid’s a nightmare.” 

“She’s not a kid,” Hadrian pointed out. “She’s a client. As long as she’s got the gold, just let her words flow off you like water on a duck.” 

“Strictly speaking, her fiance is the client, since he’s the one who’ll give us the gold upon arrival,” Sandra pointed out. “But… yeah. That seems like a plan.” 

Quinn was done loading the cart by the time she circled back around, though Karena still didn’t seem pleased. “Sandra!” she snapped, turning to face her once she was close. 

“What’s wrong, Karena?” Sandra raised an eyebrow. 

“Firstly-” Karena raised a finger, pointing it at Sandra. “I’m your boss, and you’ll treat me with respect. You will address me as ‘Miss Din’Vatra’ or ‘Ma’am’. Not ‘Karena’.”

Spoiled little- “Alright, ma’am. What’s wrong?” 

“This bimbo buffoon packed everything wrong!” She pointed at Quinn, her face screwed up with anger. “My case of evening wear is at the bottom of the pile, completely unreachable! When I want to get dressed for sleep tonight, it’ll take forever to dig it out!” 

“I packed the cases in the order you told me,” Quinn said, making Sandra wince. 

“Well I didn’t know you’d bury it!” Karena snapped. “I thought you’d pack it all to one side!” 

“If I did that, the cart would topple-” Quinn started. 

“Quinn,” Sandra said, quickly. “Go get saddled.” 

The half-orc fumed for a moment, then hopped down from the cart and trudged towards his horse. 

“Seriously,” Karena rolled her eyes. “If his brains were half as big as his tits, he might be worth something, but why’s he even in your party?” 

“Everyone in our party is an invaluable asset, ma’am,” Sandra said, simply. “Would you like me to walk you to your horse? We’re ready to get on the road.” 

She rolled her eyes again. “Ha, like I need you to babysit me. I can walk to my horse on my own, thank you very much.” 

Five thousand gold, Sandra reminded herself. Don’t think about her, think about the gold. 

…

The morning went about as smoothly as Sandra could have hoped. Karena barely shut up for air, but at least she’d stopped insulting their party directly. 

Instead, Karena insulted - Sandra was fairly sure - literally every other person she’d ever met. Her tutors, her father’s business partners, her parents, the trade guild, the adventurer’s guild, the mage’s college. Street vendors, royalty, city officials - if she’d met them, she had something to complain about regarding them. 

When it came time to take lunch, Karena insisted that they stop, so she could dine properly. Quinn put down a blanket for her to sit on, and while Sandra started distributing trail rations, Karena reached into a small pocket, producing a dainty pair of silk, lace-hemmed gloves.

Sandra had to cover her eye roll. She was putting on a pair of fancy dining gloves to eat trail rations. There was spoiled, then there was-

Karena snapped her fingers, and in her hands there appeared a silver tray, stacked with a glass of chilled wine, streaming hot roast beef, and minced winter vegetables with some sort of wonderful-smelling seasoning. 

Setting down the tray, Karena picked up a silver fork and knife, cut into her meal, and began to eat. 

She noticed the party’s staring after a couple bites. Over a mouthful of food, she asked, “Wha’, have you ple’eians never seen Gloves of Storing before?” Taking a sip of her chilled wine, she swallowed and added, “Seriously. It’s like you don’t even recognize a wondrous item when you see one.” 

“I’ve seen gloves like that before,” Hadrian commented, “I’ve just never seen them used to… such effect.” 

“I carry half a dozen pairs with me at all times,” Karena explained, taking another bite. “They make travelling so much more pleasant.” 

“Perhaps, but isn’t it a bit-” Hadrian frowned, and even Sandra noticed the magic coalescing around his lips. “Oh, both-mmph.” 

His pacifier appeared in place with a little ‘plop’ noise, momentarily silencing his comments. 

In the middle of a bite, Karena nearly choked on her laughter. While Sandra leaned over, tugging the pacifier free, Karena swallowed, got ahold of herself, and nearly doubled over in a fit of giggling. “You- heh- a pacifier-” 

“It’s an intensely powerful curse,” Sandra said, brow furrowing while Hadrian turned pink. “It returns every few hours. We’re still looking for someone who can dispel the magic.” 

“The wizard’s g-got-” Karena put her hands over her belly, wheezing with laughter. “A little baby pacifier-” 

“Adventuring work is dangerous!” Sandra snapped. “Curses come with the territory - it’s part of the job to deal with them, ma’am.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Wiping tears from her eyes, Karena shook her head. “A dangerous widdle baby paci, for the dangerous widdle wizard to suck on!” 

“Now hold on a minute-” Sandra didn’t remember getting to her feet, but she found herself standing up, ready for a confrontation. 

“Sandra,” Tarja cut in, quickly. “I’m sensing some magic in the air. You should go check for traps.” 

Deflating a little, Sandra caught herself. “Right. Thank you, Tarja, I’ll-” 

“Wait,” Karena said, her eyes widening with amusement. “Don’t move. That’s- snrk- an order.” 

Sandra got a sinking feeling of what was going to happen next, but she stood in place, lowering her hand. 

Karena set her silver tray aside, got to her feet, and walked over to Sandra so that she could put a finger through one of the belt loops on Sandra’s pants. Pulling back, her amused expression turned to pure mirth. “Oh, my, gods. You’re wearing a diaper!” 

“I-” Sandra stammered, cheeks turning pink. “It’s a curse, same as-” 

She was interrupted by a burst of laughter, as Karena didn’t even try to control herself. “It’s- Almost- The whole party is a bunch of sissy babies! The changeling’s the only one who’s normal!” 

Tarja shifted, uncomfortably. It was subtle, but Karena picked up on the subtle embarrassment like a hound with the scent of prey. 

“Oh, no-” Karena snickered. “What happened to you?” 

“Drop it,” Sandra said, quietly. 

Karena turned back to Sandra, still ready to burst into tears from all the laughter she was holding back, but now there was venom in her eyes. “Excuse me, potty pants? Did I ask for your advice?” 

“This isn’t part of our job, ma’am,” Sandra continued. “My party-” 

“Sandra,” Tarja said. She had stood up at some point, and had a hand on Sandra’s chest. “Go, check for traps. It’s fine.” 

Fighting the desire to take a swing at Karena, she nodded, looked to their charge, and said, “I apologize.” 

“Heh, you’re just saying that so you don’t get fired right here on the spot,” Karena shot back. “Go change your diaper, baby, but don’t think I’m gonna forget about this - I’m going to have a chat with my fiance about your fee once we get to the capital.” 

Sandra had to walk away. It was the only way to stop herself from doing something immensely stupid. 

Wheeling around, she walked away, towards the head of their caravan, deciding to actually check for traps just as a way to calm her nerves. It was a structured task she could focus on, even if it wouldn’t turn anything up. 

Climbing into the saddle, she spurred her horse along, riding at a even pace up the road. Stupid, arrogant, spoiled little- 

Stopping, she took a breath, repeating to herself, “She’s paying you. You need the money, and she’s paying you.” 

Sighing, she looked with her magical senses, detecting the road around her. Something, anything, to focus on besides how easily Karena could wind her up. 

She wasn’t expecting to find anything. That’s what made it a surprise when she noticed the thin, barely noticeable strands of power in the air. 

It was just a figment, just for a moment, before they escaped her magical detection. She couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to be some sort of scrying spell on the main road. Something that’d make an ambush particularly easy, a little ways up the road. 

Turning, Sandra rode back towards the party. It was probably nothing, but that was still a reason to be cautious. 

Quinn was ready to greet her, a few paces away from where everyone was eating. “Trouble?” 

“You noticed?” Sandra asked, hopping down from her horse. 

“No, I just wanted to get away for a minute,” Quinn said. “What’s wrong?” 

“Probably nothing, but there’s some magic on the road. I think someone might be watching it, so they can ambush us later on.” Sandra reached into her saddlebags, coming out with a map. “We should find another route, to be safe.” 

“Another route will be slower, yeah?” Quinn asked. “As in, more time… as a group.” 

She shot him a look that was meant to communicate the message, ‘Yeah, I already thought of that’. All she said was, “We’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep her safe.” 

Quinn looked suspect, but didn’t argue as Sandra walked over to their client, eyes on the map. As she approached, Tarja stood, walking in the same direction Quinn had gone. “Ma’am, we’ve got possible trouble, I think it’d be best that we find another path.” 

That, at least, didn’t get a sneer. Karena had returned to her meal, but she looked up from the tray and listened. “What kind of trouble?” 

“I detected a trace of scrying magic. It’s possible someone’s trying to watch us, or just for any vulnerable travellers, so that they can waylay them on the road further down.” Finding the best alternate course, she added, “The safe thing to do would be to re-route.” 

Karena frowned suspiciously. “Reroute how?” 

Sandra turned around the map, pointing so Karena could see. “There’s the marshland to the east of here. It’s got a cart path. It’s about half a day slower, but the terrain is completely open, so there’s no way anyone could-”  

“The bogs?” Karena exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Well, marshland and bogs are-” Hadrian started to say. Sandra silenced him with a sharp look. 

“It’s safer, ma’am,” Sandra said. “If we can avoid an ambush-” 

“An ambush you don’t even know really exists,” Karena snapped. “You just want to make me go through the bogs, so I’ll get all sweaty and I won’t notice when you stink!” 

Sandra shook her head, sighing. “Karena, no-” 

“Ma’am,” Karena corrected, sharply. “And if there’s an ambush, it’s your job to fight them off! You’re just being lazy!” 

“Ma’am. Prevention is better than-” 

“We’re taking the main road!” Karena snapped. “And that’s final!” 

I hope there’s an ambush, Sandra fumed, while she nodded and folded up the map. And I hope someone shoots her. 

Spinning in place, she trudged back to their caravan. “Quinn, put on your armor. We need to be ready for a fight at the drop of a pin.” 

His shoulders slumped, and he spoke in a low, distressed tone. “Do I have to? She’ll-” 

“Hey,” Tarja said, touching his arm. “What she thinks doesn’t matter.” 

“Hmmph.” Quinn shook his head, sighed, and went to get his frilly, pink armor. 

“If you’ve got to do anything to prepare for a fight, do it,” Sandra added to Tarja. “I don’t want to get caught flat-footed.” 

“I’m ready to go at a pindrop,” Tarja said. “Don’t you worry about me.” 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Sandra looked over her shoulder at Karena. “That brat is going to get herself into trouble if we don’t watch out for her.” 

“She might not let us watch out for her,” Tarja replied. 

“Well, then, we’ll just have to do what we can. We’re not getting stiffed on another job.” Sandra shrugged. “Let’s get moving. If we’re going to get ambushed, I’d rather it be sooner than later.” 

…

No ambush came throughout most of the afternoon. In fact, the only danger posed to Karena was that she almost died laughing when she saw Quinn in his pink, lace armor. She nearly fell off her horse when she saw it, and every few moments she’d glance back over her shoulder at him to giggle. 

That, at least, wore off by midafternoon. The hilarious nature of his armor couldn't keep her giggling forever, and as the morning clouds dissipated a bit, she had other things to complain about. The heat, the glare, the way that a passing traveller didn’t show her enough polite respect as they crossed each other. 

By the time the sun was low in the western horizon, Sandra had dismissed her fears of an ambush. Nobody would bother scrying so far ahead on the road just to steal some passing wealth. 

So, when they came to a deep mud slick in the road, Sandra wasn’t even worried about an attack. 

“So,” Karena said, riding next to Tarja. “What’s your curse?” 

Tarja ignored her. 

“Don’t ignore me,” Karena snapped. “I’m your employer.”

“I’m trying to stay focused on watching for threats,” Tarja said, her tone a little uncertain. She was clearly avoiding the subject of her curse.

“Well, still, I asked you a question,” Karena said. “What’s your curse? Everyone else got something humiliating. What’d you get?” 

Tarja kept her eyes on the brush near the road. “Nothing that concerns this job.” 

“Your ‘fearless leader’ poops her pants, your warrior is a big girly dolly, and your wizard plays with baby toys,” Karena mused, putting a finger to her lips. “So I bet you… hmm… You’ve got some sort of uncontrollable sexual urge. Yeah?” 

The changeling didn’t respond. 

Karena’s expression glittered. “No? Then… I bet it’s the opposite, and you can’t even screw at all! Am I right?” 

Still no response. Tarja was damned good at stonewalling when she wanted to be. 

“Maybe… you can eat only baby food? No, I saw you eat, but… hmm.” Her expression brightened with amused malice, and she asked, “Ooh, did you grow a dick?” 

A tiny, subtle flicker. Almost imperceptible, except to someone who knew exactly how to push people’s buttons. 

“Hah!” Karena grinned broadly. “Oooh, that is priceless. I bet you-” 

“Drop the subject,” Tarja said, quietly. Her voice wasn’t wavering anymore. It was deathly still and steady. 

“Oh, you think you can boss me around?” Karena’s eyes narrowed, but her lips were still dancing with amusement. At the top of her lungs, she shouted, “Hey everyone! Tarja’s got a dick!” 

There was murder in Tarja’s eyes, and Sandra knew it. She honestly didn’t feel much like stopping what was about to happen. Riding forward, the argument also served to distract her from the deepening mud, until she felt her horse balk and looked forward.

“Woah!” she called back to Hadrian, so the wizard would know to stop the cart before coming forward. The mud didn’t look too bad at a glance, but since she’d led her horse into it, she realized it was almost a foot deep. 

“What’s the holdup, baby?” Karena sneered, from a few feet behind her. “You’re not honestly upset about my announcement, are you?” 

“Mud,” Sandra explained, simply, gesturing to the ground beneath and in front of her. “The cart can’t go through it. We’re going to have to backtrack, find an alternate route.” 

“How long’s that going to take?” Karena demanded, riding forward to be parallel with Sandra. “My horse goes through it fine.” 

“Your horse’s legs aren’t made of wagon wheels,” Sandra pointed out. “It’ll take a few hours. We’ll have to make camp tonight, we’re not going to make it to the inn.” 

“No way.” Karena crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not camping.” 

Sandra paused. “I saw your luggage. You have an expedition pavilion. Why-” 

“Yeah, that old thing? It’s a ratty piece of crap,” Karena rolled her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Just, like, pull it through. I don’t care if you’ve got to fix it or clean it up or whatever once we get to the inn. Your job is to escort me, not the other way around, and I’m not making a detour just so you can keep your crummy cart clean.” 

It’s full of your luggage, Sandra thought. “I can’t pull the cart through this. It’s not a question, ma’am.” 

Karena rolled her eyes. “Well, figure it out then. I’m not waiting.” Spurring her horse forward, she started trotting through the mud. 

“Karena, wait,” Sandra called after her. She couldn’t just leave the cart with all of Karena’s luggage, but at the same time, they couldn’t just abandon the spoiled brat herself. 

Tarja pulled up next to Sandra. “What happens if we just let her leave?” 

“We don’t get paid,” Sandra replied, watching the girl go. 

“And what happens if we abandon her luggage?” Quinn inquired, from a few paces back. 

“We don’t get paid,” Sandra completed. “We could split the party-” 

In unison, Tarja, Quinn, and Hadrian all barked, “NO!” 

Karena was most of the way across the mud slick, and was sneering over her shoulder at the four of them, waiting for the party to call her bluff. Sighing, Sandra said, “Fine. Maybe we can cast Ant Haul and figure something out. I’ll go talk to-” 

A hundred feet up ahead, a splatter of mud shot up from the ground, so quick that nobody had the chance to call out a warning. 

Honestly. No chance for a warning whatsoever. Quinn, Tarja, Sandra, and Hadrian would all swear to it. 

The mud struck Karena with splorchy momentum, knocking her sideways out of the saddle. She landed in the mud, screaming, and a whirlwind of magic began to swirl. 

“Shit,” Sandra said, spurring her horse forward. “Come on!” 

Reluctantly, the rest of the party followed, skirting the mud slick of the road. That meant navigating the brush and trees beside the road, which slowed them down a bit, but it was better than being bogged down by mud in the middle of a fight. 

Karena was on the ground, flailing her arms, batting away some sort of insect-like creature that was buzzing around her head. 

It took Sandra only a second to recognize it, glancing between the plastic, pastel object diving towards Karena’s head and Hadrian. His own pacifier was absent at the moment, but Sandra still recognized the magic. 

They were going up against traps set by the Wizard of Paraphilia. 

“Careful!” she shouted, slowing. “It’s the Wizard!” 

That was enough to make the whole party slow in trepidation, unwilling to get hit with another one of the wizard’s traps for the sake of Karena. Still, they had a job to do. Weapons raised, they approached. 

Sandra was the first to hop down from her mount, wading through the knee-deep mud to get to Karena. As thick and viscous as it was, she knew that if she fell, getting back up on her own would be almost impossible. There’d be no leverage, nothing to push off of, and any attempt to get free would only suck you further down. 

Reaching towards Karena, she yelled, “Grab my arm, I’ll pull you up!” 

Karena flailed, grabbed Sandra’s arm, and yanked down. 

Well, shi- 

Sandra stumbled as she was jerked down, falling next to Karena. 

She could feel something in the mud beneath them, moving, looming dangerously around their ankles. Worse, looking around, Sandra could see shapes looming in the woods, getting ready to pounce, and Karena was still flailing and dragging them deeper. 

“Ma’am, I need you to-” Sandra started. 

Karena tried to push on her shoulder to stand, and they both sank a bit deeper. 

“Karena, calm down and stop flailing, or you’ll-” 

She screamed, her mouth so close to Sandra’s ear that it was physically painful. 

Sandra had only one arm free enough to move, but she raised it, pulled back, and slapped Karena across the face. “Shut the hell up and listen, you stupid, selfish brat!” 

Karena stopped flailing and gaped in alarm, as though she couldn’t believe what had just happened to her. Opening her mouth, she took in a breath, getting ready to deliver the angry lecture of her life. 

With a little ‘pop’, the pacifier finally managed to fly between her lips. 

Blinking, Karena looked down, a little cross-eyed as she tried to see what it was. She tried to speak, and could only mumble into the plastic shield. Pawing at it, nothing happened, except that she got a little mud on her face. 

Sandra sighed in satisfaction, nodding her head. “Blessed silence.” 

Eyebrows knitting in rage, Karena shouted, “Mmph-mmbhphhtbht!”, a little line of drool escaping and going down her chin. 

“Listen to me,” Sandra said, trying to not be unsettled by the shouts of her peers as they fought off monsters. “We can’t keep flailing. That’ll just get us trapped. We need something to push off of.” 

Karena’s expression was plenty harsh enough to communicate what she was thinking. ‘Like what, diaper baby?’ 

Thinking a moment, Sandra had an idea. Holding out an arm, she focused for a moment, black smoke congealing into solid form. It was roughly the shape of a crowbar, but almost four feet long, with a wide, flat end attached to the end to push off of. 

Pressing the umbral tool into the mud, Sandra hit hard dirt a couple feet down, giving her the leverage to stand. Mud squelched in her clothes and sucked at her skin as she stood, but it wasn’t enough to keep her down, and once she was upright she held out a hand for Karena. 

Karena looked at her hand, hesitantly, then reached up. She took Sandra’s hand, they both pulled with steady force to get her upright, and finally, she stood. 

Though she couldn’t say anything, Sandra saw relief in her eyes as they both got to her feet. Karena’s horse was only a couple paces away, and once she was mounted, she could ride to safety while Sandra trudged free and helped with the fight. 

Before Karena could get into the saddle, though, her eyes suddenly bulged in terror. Sandra couldn’t see anything happening, but as long as her expression was only surprise and fear, not pain, she just would have to hope that their charge was okay. 

“It’s fine! Let’s get you out of here!” Reaching out, Sandra took Karena’s hand, helped her reach the stirrup, made sure she was saddled, and finally turned to trudge free of the mud herself.

She was too slow. Not because there was any danger, but because, by the time she made it to the edge of the mud and had a weapon drawn, the stuffed animals that had been brought to life as attack constructs had all been disemfluffed, remnants of cotton stuffing and button eyes strewn across the landscape. 

Sandra sighed in relief. Nobody else was hurt. Hitching up her pants, she turned to spot Karena, on her horse, quietly trembling just past the end of the mud slick. 

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said. 

As much as Sandra hated to show any sympathy towards her, the girl had to be terrified. She’d just been in a life or death scenario, probably for the first time in her life. 

“Hey, ma’am,” she called, from a few paces away. “You’ll need my help with that pacifier. It doesn’t come out on its own.” 

Karena’s eyes were huge, and wet. Turning to face Sandra, she leaned down, letting Sandra take the pacifier free. “G-gah ba… gods…” she mumbled. 

“It’s okay,” Sandra said, sniffing the air and wrinkling her nose. Ah, damn. I must have had an accident during the fray. At least she’s not likely to mock me about it right now. “We got out alive. You’re safe.” 

“I…” Karena said, sniffling. “I think I’m paralyzed.” 

Sandra blinked in surprise. “What? You got on your horse just fine.” 

“I know, but…” Karena whimpered. “I can’t feel anything around my waist.” 

Frowning, Sandra said, “If you’re paralyzed, a cleric can heal you, but… if you were paralyzed at the waist, I don’t think you’d be able to sit up on a horse. Here, let me help you down.” 

For once timid and uncertain, Karena accepted her hand, getting down. She was able to stand, which was a good sign. 

“Where can’t you feel?” she asked. 

“I guess… from here…” Karena put a hand on her waist, then moved it down to her mid thigh. “Down to here.” 

“I need to look at it,” Sandra said, “To make sure you don’t need medical attention. Okay?” 

Karena nodded, sniffling. “O-okay.” 

Taking the waistband of Karena’s pants, Sandra pulled down, blinked twice, then stifled a giggle. 

“Wh-what is it?” Karena asked. “What’s so funny?” 

Spotting the subtle tingle of magic and examining it further, Sandra confirmed what she’d already guessed. Reaching forward, she unbuckled the pink, transparent magical cover that was currently covering Karena’s very full, very heavy cloth diaper. 

As soon as the cover was unbuckled, Karena blinked, looking down in surprise. “I… when… how did that happen?” 

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. “It, erm, smells like you had an accident, ma’am,” Sandra said, covering her smirk with a broad smile. “Would you like me to clean it up?” 

Realization finally struck the girl, and Karena’s face turned bright pink. “I- You- Y-yes.” 

Unable to keep from smirking a little, Sandra said, “Well, lay down. I can’t clean it while you’re wearing it.” 

All the bratiness had, for the moment, gone out of the girl. She sat down and laid back, burying her blushing face with her hands. 

Unpinning the sides of the diaper, Sandra let it flop to the ground. It was soaked, and the smell was worse than she’d expected - with her own messes, they’d never been out in the open.

Channeling her little spark of magical power, Sandra cast prestidigitation. It took several uses to get Karena’s diaper, thighs, and crotch fully clean, and when she was done, she said, “So… if my hunch is right, you’re going to, well… need these.” 

Karena responded by making a little squeaking noise, covering her face even more with her arms and hands. 

Taking that as a go ahead, Sandra folded the now-clean layers of cloth padding back into place, fastening the safety pins. 

As soon as they were fastened, the cover suddenly jumped, buckling itself back around Karena’s waist. 

Don’t laugh at her. Don’t laugh. Be the bigger woman here. Just because she teased you, doesn’t mean-

A second later, the pacifier reappeared between Karena’s lips. 

Sandra couldn’t keep it in any more. It was just too much karmic justice, and she’d had a long day. She giggled, just a little. 

Based on the little squeaks and whimpers of humiliation, Karena wasn’t going to give her any trouble about it. 

…

The next two days of travel went much, much more smoothly. The curse on Karena’s pacifier was far stronger than Hadrian’s, and she could barely keep it out long enough to ask a couple questions or finish a meal before it returned, silencing her until someone in the party felt charitable enough to take it out. 

Even if she could have talked at will, though, she was a considerable amount meeker than she had been - once she realized that she couldn’t remove her own diaper cover, and would be dependant on the party for changes, she apparently didn’t have it in her to mouth off or tease anyone else for their curses. 

All good things had to come to an end. When they got to the capital, her fiance was waiting for them outside the city gates, and he didn’t look happy. 

Darius Anders Drumet was, if not as wealthy as Karena’s father, at least still a financial force to be reckoned with. The fact that he was waiting for them, personally, was not a good sign. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he called, as soon as he could see Sandra and confirmed that she was with the guild. “You’re half a day late!” 

“We came across some trouble on the road,” Sandra explained, “And had to take a detour. There was also-” 

Karena blew past her, her own horse half in a gallop, riding up to her fiance’s side. Tucking herself next to him, as though she were hiding in fear, she pointed at her pacifier and whimpered. 

“I don’t understand,” Darius said, looking back and forth between Sandra and Karena. 

“She can’t remove it herself,” Sandra explained. “It’s cursed.” 

Taking out the pacifier, Darius said, “My dear, it’s a blessing to finally lay eyes upon you. What happened?” 

“These- these awful people!” Karena exclaimed. “You wouldn’t believe it! They’re, possibly, the worst guard I’ve ever had! They almost got me killed!” 

“Is that so?” Darius asked, his anger growing more pronounced as he looked at Sandra. 

“Yeah!” Karena said. “Darius, honey, you can’t pay them. They should be locked up, not rewarded!” 

Pulling up next to Sandra, Hadrian whispered, “Shouldn’t you be explaining things?” 

Sandra shook her head. “Shh.” 

“Tell me, my betrothed, my sweet,” Darius said. “What did they do to you?” 

“It was horrid!” Karena said. “I rode ahead, and they simply stopped! They wouldn’t protect me! And then there was this magic, and it cursed me, and by the time they showed up it was too late! They just let me get cursed! And then they laughed at me about it!” 

Darius paused. “You… rode ahead? And they didn’t tell you to wait for them?” 

“Yeah.” Karena nodded. “Well, I mean, they did, but they wanted to find a whole other route, and then I wouldn’t have been able to see you for even longer! And their stupid cart could totally have made it through that mud. And they knew there were going to be traps and an ambush on the road, but they didn’t do anything to stop me from getting cursed!” 

“I… see,” Darius said, considering it. “So, you didn’t heed their warning, and knew there might be an ambush, and then you got cursed because they stopped to find a way to get the luggage cart through.” 

“Yeah!” Karena nodded. Pausing, she leaned back, looking around. “Where’s your retinue?” 

“I don’t keep one, unless I’m protecting merchandise,” Darius said. 

“But… who carries your extra belongings, and keeps the peasants from getting close or… touching you?” Karena asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “You don’t consort with… riff-raff, do you? Ugh, my skin crawls just thinking about it.” 

“That’s something we can talk about later, my dear,” Darius said. “For now, let’s stick to the matter at hand.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Karena faced Sandra, sneering. “They’re just so awful, honey. They’re gross, and they smell, and… And they didn’t respect my authority at all! It’s like they forgot who was paying their fee!” 

“Ah, I think I understand.” Darius looked between her and Sandra. “What exactly cursed her?” 

“Now I explain,” Sandra whispered to Hadrian, then raised her voice for Darius to hear. “We cautioned her not to run forward in a mud slick, but she went ahead without us, and was cursed. We were able to fend off the monsters who ambushed her and keep her from harm, but she has a pacifier which she cannot remove and which returns rather quickly, and she seems to have lost all her potty training and can’t change her own diapers. Sir.” 

Darius nodded. “So… she can’t talk, for more than a few minutes at a time.” 

“Not unless you keep removing her pacifier for her,” Sandra assured him. 

“And she’ll be needing help from others for her toilet needs,” Darius considered. “She might even need to rely on people who are less than her, and be dependent on their good will.” 

Sandra smiled. “That’s right, sir.” 

Smiling, Darius said, “Five thousand gold, was it? I’ll get that sent to your guild contact right away.” 

* *LEVEL UP * *

 

I hope you enjoyed! As always, if you want to support my writing, consider checking out my Patreon. Support from fans is what makes it possible for me to keep writing, and I’m incredibly grateful!

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[Panther Cub]

Hee-hee!

 

This was an excellent chapter!

[kerry]

Doubling down on the "hee-hee"! Great work!

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter, I can see that Darius is loving that his wife to be got a curse that can help teach her a lesson.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Written as a commission for a subscriber.
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Chapter 5

Sandra strolled into the bar, feeling so chipper she feared that she might break out into song.

Glancing over at the Bard in the corner, she eyed him warily.

He didn’t seem to notice.

Still, it wasn’t any magical enchantment that had her feeling so good. She’d just had a quest go right for a change, and they were about to get a hell of a paycheck.

The Guild Master in the tavern corner was identifiable by the subtly off-brown shade of his robes, the style of sword worn on his belt, and the ‘Guild Master’ pin he wore above his lapel. Sandra strolled over, pulled up a seat, and extended a hand.

“Guild Master Korrin?” she asked.

He nodded, shaking her hand. “Sandra, I presume.”

“That’s right.”

Guild Master Korrin beamed. “Fantastic work on that last job. The client was simply thrilled with the condition he received his fiance in. It’s rare that anyone’s so happy about a fetch quest being done correctly, but he said he was ready to put the guild on retainer as his new escorts for all his high-value shipping.”

“That’s great news!” Sandra declared. “We’re about to head up north, to the mountains, but once we’re back through here we’d be happy to pick up any of those jobs that are needed.”

“Of course.” He reached into an enchanted pocket to produce her payday. “Five hundred platinum, as the contract stated. Do you need change?”

“A little, to cover the tab,” Sandra agreed, leaning in. “And, actually, I need to commission a little work from the guild, while I’m here…”

She strolled back to the party’s table, dropping the bag of coins on the table. “Forty eight hundred gold, in various denominations. Eight hundred for the party pot, a thousand for everyone to keep.”

“Cheers!” Quinn raised his beer, and the rest of the party clinked mugs.

Tarja paused after sipping, and glanced over at Sandra. “Wasn’t the reward five thousand?”

“Two hundred went back to the guild, for some expenses,” Sandra explained, simply. “Finish up lunch here, then we’ll go shopping?”

Hadrian lifted his mug. “I’ll drink to that!”

…

The Capital shopping district was like no other.

Entire towns could have fit inside just the market square. Thousands of shops, maybe tens of thousands, peddled anything an adventurer could possibly need, whether they be level one or level twenty.

And, it even had stuff if you’d been cursed by a wizard who seemed more intent on humiliating his victims than hurting them.

“You need to replace your armor, eh?” the smith asked, holding up Hadrian’s existing armor, running his hands of the soft, silky pink lace that ran along the hem of its skirt. He was inspecting it with a pair of jeweled spectacles, eyeing the intricate weaving of magic that ran through the fabric. “How much do we have to spend, here?”

“Well… that armor still works, so I figured it’d have some trade-in value,” Quinn said, tapping his index fingers together. The rest of the party was milling about the shop, looking at this or that while he haggled. “And I’ve got some gold, though I’m not looking to spend all of it. I just want to replace the armor, after all.”

The armorer paused. “I may be able to resell it, or find someone to remove the curse… But it might be difficult. I suppose I could give you half its worth as trade-in value. Is that alright?”

“I guess.” Quinn did the math in his head for a suit of +1 Half-Plate. “So… what, just around six hundred gold?”

Staring at him, the smith said, “For +3 armor? It’d cost me more just to buy the raw materials!”

Quinn blinked. “+3? That’s +1 Armor.”

“No, it isn’t. You can see it right here, it’s +3… Well, technically, +3 with a permanent Glamour effect on it.” He pointed, tracing along invisible lines of magic that ran through the armor.

“Uh… that’s not right. I’m sure it was +1 when I bought it.” Quinn tilted his head, frowning. “Unless the merchant made a mistake.”

“Damned expensive mistake…” He shrugged, passing the armor back. “Anyways, I can do the trade for forty five hundred. Take it or leave it.”

“Well I don’t have that much,” Quinn said, staring at his armor. “But… well, damn. +3 is better than I could afford, anyways.”

The armorer shrugged. “Keep it, then. Buy a big coat or something to cover it up. It’s fine protection.”

Quinn nodded, thinking about it. “Do… you sell big coats?”

“Next shop over. Big and tall store,” he suggested.

While they were leaving, Sandra leaned over to the armorer. “By the way, do you carry any oils?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What are you looking for?”

…

Pop!

The pacifier made a little suction noise as Sandra removed it from Hadrian’s lips, pocketing it for the moment. It didn’t really matter what she did with it, she could have chucked it in the trash or given it away, it’d still end up back in his mouth before too long, but she didn’t feel right throwing away a cursed object in a busy marketplace. Someone else might get in trouble, and she didn’t want that on her conscience.

“Fank… thanks,” Hadrian said, moving his mouth as his speech returned. “This shouldn’t be long.”

“Why are we in a… used jewelry shop?” Sandra asked, raising her eyebrow and looking around.

“Crafting supplies,” Hadrian explained. “Gemstones and precious metals come cheaper secondhand, and even if they need a little cleaning up and extra work, it’ll help stretch the supply.”

“I didn’t know you’d taken up crafting seriously,” Sandra wandered the aisle, looking at tarnished rings and old necklaces. “Looking to stretch the party funds?”

“More, looking to replicate some magic that I can’t find in stores.” Hadrian crouched to look at a pearl necklace, where several of the pearls had been lost and replaced with white beads. A red tag marked it as being on sale, and he picked it up.

Sandra hesitated. “You’re going to try and copy the Wizard of Paraphilia’s designs.”

“I’ll try. They make for devilishly efficient nonlethal spells,” Hadrian said. “It’s… complicated on the magical principles, and I don’t know if you’d care, but the short version is his magic is stronger than it should be because he’s woven in limitations to the magic. ‘Silence’ is a spell that lasts for mere seconds, or minutes in the hands of a skilled caster, but bind that magic to a pacifier focus and, well…” He trailed off, opening his hands in a ‘you get the idea’ gesture.

“I still don’t see the point in…” Sandra looked down, feeling her diaper squelch. The magic hadn’t refreshed in several hours, and she was starting to smell a little stale. “Some of his spells.”

“Preventative threat display, I assume,” Hadrian shrugged, picking up a jeweled bracelet to examine. “Given what we know now, tangling with him in the way we did initially was a terrible idea. Injuries can be healed, humiliation… not so much.”

A ring caught Sandra’s eye. It was just a plain band, but it’d been painted in the gaudiest colors she’d even seen, a thick, sloppy layer of pink and green lead paint that was starting to chip on the sides. She picked it up, weighing it in her hand.

“Shopkeep!” she called, getting his attention. “I don’t see a price tag. How much for the ugly ring?”

He glanced up from the novel he was reading. “No gemstones on it, yeah?”

Sandra nodded. “Just a plain band.”

Shrugging he said, “Two silver pieces, take it or leave it.”

She dug in her pocket for the change. “I’ll take it.”

…

The party stood around outside while they waited for Tarja to conclude her business.

“So, what’s the plan after this?” Hadrian said, looking around at the cluster of shops they were in.

Quinn looked up at the sky, squinting to get a sense of the sun’s position. “It’s almost afternoon, so… Lunch?”

“No, I mean in a more grand sense,” Hadrian clarified.

Nodding, Quinn understood. “You can get some pretty grand lunch here. There’s a restaurant on the south end of the market where you can get a whole roast pig for two gold.”

Hadrian sighed. “I’m thinking past lunch.”

“If you want to wait, I’m sure we could have the pig for dinner,” Quinn suggested. Before Hadrian could snap at him, he chuckled and put up his hands. “Just giving you a hard time!”

The two of them looked at Sandra, who was standing a few feet away. Over the smell of the marketplace, and the prestidigitation she’d done to cover things up with the smell of heavy perfumes, she was pretty sure nobody could smell what was in her diaper, but it was still a concern that had her distracted.

Noticing that they were looking at her, she said, “Erm… what was the question?”

“Where are we going after this?” Hadrian supplied.

“Oh, well… it’s getting late in the day, so, lunch?” Hadrian looked like he was about to throw up his hands in frustration, and Sandra grinned at him. “Kidding. I heard you before. For today, we’ll finish spending our well-earned wealth, shack up at whatever guild inn we find ourselves close to, and then in the morning I want to start heading further north.”

“Where too, exactly?” Hadrian asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to figure that out, later.”

She was being vague, and they noticed. Quinn raised an eyebrow. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“Mostly, I’m being cautious, and I’m still piecing things together. We’ll talk tonight, at the Inn, once I have a better sense of things.”

Before Hadrian could ask any follow-up questions, Tarja stepped out of the potion shop. “We’ll have to come back here, they didn’t have what I needed on hand so they’re brewing it up,” she explained, looking between the group. Gaze settling on Sandra, her nose wrinkled.

“What?” Sandra asked, blushing and preparing to get defensive.

“Your perfume smells like an old grandma,” Tarja said. “And did you bathe in it?”

Well, it did its job covering up the other smells. “It’ll wear off in an hour or so. How long will the brewing take?”

“An hour or so,” Tarja supplied. “In the meantime… lunch?”

…

It took a little while for the party to get moving after they finished their meal. Nobody wanted to waste food, but a whole roast pig split four ways was a lot more meat than any of them could put down, even with Quinn doing his very best to try. Sandra’s diaper had cleaned itself before they started eating, and her prestidigitation perfume had worn off shortly after, so there was nothing to impede their enjoyment of the meal except for the subtle ache of being a little bit too full.

As they walked back in the direction they’d come, Quinn winced.

“What’s wrong?” Tarja asked, noticing the reaction.

“Hmmph,” Quinn grumbled. “Just… Kind of sensitive in the chest area.”

Nobody in the party said anything for a few moments, until Tarja asked, “Do you need to, er… do anything about that?”

“Like what?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw a shop selling home furnishings for new parents, they’ll probably have… you know. Nursing supplies.”

The half-orc blushed, but grunted his assent, and the party detoured, making a stop in the shop. The shop’s clerk glanced up, saw Quinn, and approached with a smile. “How can I help you, dear?”

Avoiding eye contact, Quinn mumbled, “I, um… I need something to help with nursing.”

“Alright, that’s simple enough. Would you like to come look at our options?” She gestured to a shelving rack, with various boxes and items set up on display.

Quinn frowned, uncertain what he was looking for. “I, um…”

The clerk saw an opportunity and took it. “Can I recommend the starting package? It’s got everything you could possibly need - a breast pump, bottles enchanted with a cooling spell to keep everything preserved, and several compresses with temperature-control enchantments on them, as well as a few other accessories.”

“I… um, how much is that?”

“Fifty gold,” the clerk said. “It’s a bit steep because of the enchantments, but you won’t find a better deal out there for these supplies.”

“Oh, I can do that.”

She beamed. “Do you have a bra with a good fit? That can help with any discomfort, and I’ve got several options on sale if you’d like to take a look.”

“I… erm, I’ve got one, I just haven’t been wearing it,” Quinn said.

“Well, I can’t advise you to keep doing that, but if you’ve got something, I won’t push you,” the clerk said. “Should we move this to the counter and get you checked out?”

“Yeah, okay.” Quinn took out his money pouch, counting off the gold. “Er… thanks.”

The clerk tilted her head as she wrote up a receipt. “What for, dear?”

Blush deepening, Quinn explained, “Not making a big deal out of… y’know.”

That got her to chuckle. “Oh, that? Sweetie, I get so many different kinds of people coming through here, I couldn’t even tell you. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sliding the receipt over, she added, “You get a complementary bath kit with the package.”

Sandra waited until their whole exchange was done and Quinn was ready to leave before she approached the clerk. “Hey, a question…”

...

While Tarja was paying for her potions, Sandra did some negotiating with the brew master. “Can we talk somewhere privately?”

“How do you mean?” the halfling asked, looking up at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“Somewhere free of prying ears. It’s… guild business,” Sandra said.

Once the brew master put together her meaning, he nodded. “In my back office.”

Sandra noticed the thin veil of magic protecting the office space. Once she stepped through the doorway, she asked, “We can’t be scryed on back here?”

“Not at all. What can I do you for?” The halfling pulled up a seat at his desk, gesturing to the chair opposite from it.

The chair was sized for a halfling. Not wanting to appear rude, Sandra sat, her knees almost bumping against her chin. “I need an invisibility potion, but I need it to be mislabeled.”

“Paranoid, are we?” the brew master asked, scratching his wispy beard hairs. “Got someone watching you?”

“I’m not certain, but there’s some concerns in that regard,” Sandra conceded. “We ran into some scrying a couple days ago and it has me paranoid.”

He nodded, thinking about it. “Invisibility’s not going to do you much good against someone with the divination chops for long-distance scrying.”

“I have some thoughts about that, too,” Sandra said, counting on her fingers. “How long will it take for you to brew, eh… seven potions?”

“You can pick them up in the morning,” the halfling said. “That work for you?”

“That’s perfect.”

…

Sandra flipped the dagger in her hand, testing the weight. It was balanced masterfully, and it even had some filigree on the handle. “Why’s it so cheap?”

“Cursed,” the weapons dealer explained. “The blade cuts alright, but it’s no good as a weapon. Any damage you deal to a living creature, it deals it back to you.”

That was a problem, Sandra had to admit. Flipping the blade around so she was holding the sharp end between her thumb and forefinger, she lifted it and flung it towards a target on the far end of the shop.

It struck home, lodged into the target with a heavy ‘thunk’ and a metalling ‘twang’. Raising her hand, the blade reappeared in her grip, ready to be thrown once again.

“How’s it do against constructs, then?”

“No harm when you use it against constructs,” the dealer said. “If you want a dedicated construct-fighting knife, it’s not a bad call.”

“Any other downsides?” she asked, balancing it on a finger.

“It’s not real gold on the handle,” the dealer suggested, shrugging. “We got a deal, or what?”

“Throw in one of those whetstones you’ve got on a display outside, and we’ve got a deal,” Sandra replied.

…

The rest of the day passed with the bustling excitement of a guild party with loot to burn. By the time they came back to the inn, they were laden with new trinkets, gear, rations, and supplies that had been running thin up until then. Potions were acquired, consumables reloaded, and everyone had come away with one kind of new toy or another.

It felt good to be well equipped again.

“Barkeep! A round for the table!” Quinn hollered, as they pulled up seats.

“And keep them coming!” Hadrian added.

They were all in a cheerful mood, and Sandra was more than ready to participate, but she didn’t want to get too distracted. “Before we get too drunk, we need to talk about plans,” she said.

“Plans, plans,” Quinn clapped her on the back. “Sandra, you’re always thinking. Can’t we take the night off?”

“She’s always thinking to make sure we don’t get into trouble,” Tarja pointed out, as a barmaid began passing out tankards of ale. “Though… I wouldn’t mind a break.”

“Talk first, then break,” Sandra said. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll cover our drinks for the evening.”

Hadrian lifted his tankard. “I’ll drink to that!”

“So, you might have noticed…” Sandra started to say. Before she could continue, someone tapped her shoulder. She turned, eye to eye with a grizzled looking goblin. “That was fast.”

The goblin muttered something, looking around. “Yeah, hmmph, yeah. Got what you wanted. Took a little work to keep it quiet, a little… extra work.” His voice was scratchy and gruff, but his implication came through clearly.

“You agreed to the guild rate,” Sandra rolled her eyes. “Give it to me.”

“Hmmph,” the goblin grumbled. Reaching into his vest, he pulled out an envelope. “Got a protection spell on it. Once you read it, it’ll vanish. Nobody’s eyes but yours.”

“Great. I’ll tell the guild master to pay you.” Raising her voice, she shouted, “Hey, Korrin!”

Korrin glanced over from his seat on the far side of the bar. He gave her a thumbs up, and she returned the gesture.

“Should be all set,” Sandra said. “Thanks.”

Taking the letter out of the envelope, she skimmed it, committing the details to memory. “Alright, this pretty much lines up with what I was thinking. Good to know.”

“What’s that?” Hadrian asked, leaning over to peek at the letter.

“Last known location of the Wizard of Paraphilia’s base of operations, a summary of his exterior wards, and details about the last guild member to take a crack at him,” Sandra explained, as the letters on the paper faded away. “Tomorrow, we’ve got some scouting to do.”

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Chapter 6

“So… is she dead?”

Quinn’s question wasn’t a serious one, Sandra hoped. He was just anxious, and banter was a good way to quell that anxiety. For once, she didn’t shut it down.

“Tarja is only scouting the entrance,” Hadrian pointed out. “There’s no reason to think that it’s anything particularly dangerous. If she needs our help, she’ll send up a flare.”

“You really think we can get her out and run, if there’s trouble?”

Sandra pursed her lips. It was a tough question, because there wasn’t a good answer. Too many factors were at play. Too many possibilities that couldn’t be planned for. She’d done what she could, but when things were all said and done, they were a party of adventurers with barely enough experience between them to be threatening to anything remotely legendary.

Survival, without undertaking more curses, would be the best they could hope for. To that end, Sandra had made all of her preparations. Get in, collect information, get out.

“The last time we were at one of the Wizard’s old hideouts, he was gone and there was valuable information to be gleaned,” Sandra hedged. “The traps only got us because I got careless. Even if it’s worse this time, we’ll be fine.”

“What about the last guy?” Quinn asked. “Nobody’s even heard from him.”

“Adventurers go into hiding after they lose, sometimes,” Sandra said. Again, she was measuring her response. “Especially after a humiliating defeat. He might be working to get some curses removed privately, before taking up more work.”

Or he’s dead.

It didn’t seem like the Wizard’s style to kill, but it was still possible. She didn’t mention that possibility aloud.

“We’ll be safe,” Hadrian piped in. “And if we have to pull out early for reasons of caution, we will. There’s no reason to take any unnecessary risks, we can always return to this problem once we’re more experienced if it proves to be beyond us today.”

“Right.” Quinn grunted, looking back at the cave. “Caution. That’s my middle name.”

Sandra wondered if it was a good idea to be chasing the wizard at all, given the disparity between their skill levels, but she didn’t want to risk party morale. They were riding a high, and admitting their weakness would quash that.

Besides, we’re going to play it safe, remember?

Up ahead, at the mouth of the cave, Tarja skirted something on the ground and hurried back towards them.

“Cheap, obvious traps?” Sandra asked, once their ranger was within earshot.

“Cheap, obvious traps,” Tarja confirmed. “Misdirection, the same as before.”

“Well, we won’t let our guard down this time.” Sandra got to her feet, adjusting the large backpack full of supplies that she’d brought with her. Normally she’d let Quinn do the carrying, but in this case, she needed everything she had.

“Hadrian, do your stuff, and we’ll go,” Sandra whispered.

Their party wizard had a few things prepared. Spells with durations in the hours. False life, for Hadrian. A whole round of Greater Magic Weapon, cast from a wand. An Unseen Servant, for any edge case benefits it could offer.

That was their timer. If their spells ran out, they would leave, success or no.

No more excuses. It was time to get moving.

They struck out into the cave.

Sandra took point, moving slowly and carefully. Every fifteen paces, she scanned for magical traps, looked for physical ones, and made sure that their exit hadn’t been blocked off. Hadrian’s Ioun Wyrd floated next to her, the familiar providing an extra set of eyes to scan for magical traps.

It was tedious work, but she wasn’t going to let herself get sidetracked this time. Knowing what came next, she didn’t allow her concentration to waver. The early traps were a decoy, something to make adventurers think that there was no real threat going forward, and she wasn’t going to fall for it twice. Occasionally the Wyrd would chitter something back to its master, and Hadrian would point out something that she’d missed.

Even so, they both almost missed the first set of true wards. Disarming a pressure plate, she checked for any magical traps on the floor and walls, declared the next few feet safe, and stood.

A tingling at the back of her neck made her stop, and before stepping forward, she looked up.

There, suspended from the ceiling and hanging from strings, a construct was slowly spinning, painted wooden moons and stars hanging from strings that spun and bobbed, hypnotic, almost…

“Sandra?” Hadrian asked, concerned. She hadn’t moved for almost twenty seconds, staring up. “What are you looking at?”

He started to direct his gaze up, confused at what had caught their leader’s attention, until he spotted…

“What are they doing?” Quinn whispered, directing his gaze towards the spot on the ceiling. “Are they-”

Tarja slapped her hand over his eyes, obscuring his vision. “No!”

“What?” he said, pushing her hand away.

“Don’t look up!” Tarja shot. “It’s… Something is paralyzing them, like a glamour. If you look at it, you’d be paralyzed too.”

Hadrian’s familiar was bobbing around its master, concerned but unable to do more than hover and seem surprisingly expressive for what amounted to a lumpy bundle of rocks.

“Crap,” Quinn stated, glad he’d been stopped in time. “Uh… how do we stop that? Hadrian’s our counterspell guy.”

Tarja frowned. “I think… With math. You’ve got your hammer?”

“You need to do math with a hammer?” He tilted his head, not following, but he drew the earthbreaker anyways.

“Just give me a moment.” Tarja stepped away, looking at Sandra’s face, studying her gaze. After a moment of consideration, she walked to Hadrian, six paces away, inspecting where he was looking. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

She walked to him. “Don’t look. I’m going to point you in the right direction, and then I need you to throw.”

He shut his eyes, shifting his grip on the hammer. Magic sparked along his fingers, going into the hammer, and he felt Tarja’s soft fingers touch his arm.

“It’s…” she said, moving his hand so that he was aimed at the right spot on the ceiling. “Just at the edge of your range, I think. Don’t hold back.”

Hefting the hammer, Quinn aimed himself, gauged the throw blindly, spun his arm, and launched it as hard as he could.

Stone chipped, and then the hammer blinked out of his grip and returned to his hand with a glint of magic.

“Did it work?” He asked.

“... no,” Tarja admitted. “Here, I think you’re throwing a little high. Like this…” Guiding his hands with her own, she moved him subtly, aiming down a little more.

“Alright.” Flexing, Quinn pulled back, judged the throw, and launched the hammer a second time.

This time, it whistled through the air, finding nothing except the floor of the cave forty feet down. With another flash, the hammer returned to his grip.

“Dammit,” Quinn grumbled. “I can do it, I just might need a few more tries.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Tarja conceded, “But I think you’re getting close. Meet it in the middle.”

He readied his hammer, pulled back, and prepared to throw.

The enchanted mobile fell from the cave ceiling before he could.

Eyes widening, Tarja ran and lunged at Sandra, tackling her out of the way, the back of the mobile crashing down just inches behind them. The stars and moons launched up, then, breaking free of their strings and shooting off at random directions, exploding wherever they struck.

If Sandra had been underneath the mobile when it fell and had taken all of those explosions directly, there wouldn’t be much left of her to bury.

As Sandra shook her head and fought off the stunning effect, Tarja held them both low to the ground, as small a target as possible. Across the cave, Hadrian was shielded behind Quinn, who hadn’t thought to get low, but whose heavy-duty pink frills kept him safe from the worst of the damage.

Spluttering, Sandra got clear as the explosions settled. “What in damnation was that?”

“The first real trap, I believe,” Tarja said, looking back at the charred space on the floor where a dozen explosions had just left a crater. “It appears that the Wizard has escalated.”

“Double caution, then, going forward,” Sandra declared.

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise? To keep going?”

Sandra looked around at her friend. “Was anyone seriously hurt?”

“No,” Tarja supplied. “Barely.”

“Then we keep going.”

With a barely pronounced waddle, she pushed deeper into the dungeon.

After exchanging concerned looks, the rest of the party followed.

In comparison to the hypnotic mobile, the next ambush was a simple one. The wizard’s attack teddy bears swarmed out of the walls in force, throwing themselves at the party with reckless abandon. Sandra’s new knife blurred, flying through the air and slicing out bits of cotton and fluff as they approached.

With Quinn out front as a blockade, Hadrian’s familiar hovered back to safety, and the rest of the party made quick work of the fluffy, adorable constructs, and to be absolutely certain, Sandra went around and cut each of the bears apart limb from limb.

“Anyone hurt?” she asked, once the grizzly work was done.

“One of the fluffy bastards bit me,” Quinn said, raising his arm, “But it’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Keep moving.”

They did. Marching in a line, they worked their way deeper into the carnival of juvenile traps. Fifteen minutes passed, with nothing eventful beyond a few cheaply rigged pressure plates, and then Sandra noticed something… unsettling.

“Hold it!” she called, looking down at the floor. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Quinn asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Sandra crouched, touching the ground. “The floor just moved, a little. Almost like a pressure plate, but we’re not on a pressure plate. Unless…” Something in her heart sank, as she looked around. “Oh, gods, I’m a fool. Run!”

They knew here well enough not to question the panicked order. They ran, and Hadrian shouted as they moved, “What is it?”

“The whole floor is a pressure plate!” Sandra filled in, as behind them, something began to rumble.

Sandra stole a look over her shoulder, wincing. Behind them, a hundred feet away but gaining, was an unstoppable avalanche of colorful blocks. Each was half again as tall as Sandra, square, painted with letters and numbers and easily heavy enough to crush any one of them should it catch up. And there were dozens, maybe hundreds, pouring down the corridor behind them.

And, up ahead, there was a massive, uncrossable pit.

Getting closer, seeing the object built deep into the floor, Sandra corrected herself. No, not a pit, a cage. Then, it clicked, and she corrected again. Not a cage. A crib.

Thirty feet deep, fifty feet across, and Sandra could tell by the magic glimmering in it that if they went into that crib, they wouldn’t be coming back out.

They skidded to a stop at the rim, looking around in a panic. Behind them, the blocks were getting closer. They had only seconds, and then they’d either be crushed or trapped.

Sandra stared at the pit, out of ideas. She hadn’t planned for this, and nothing she could think of would get them across in time.

It was good, then, that she wasn’t the only member of the party. Behind her, Quinn roared, and she spun in surprise to see that he’d been enlarged to double his height and eight times his weight. Swinging his hammer, he struck the foremost block with all his considerable might, and though it didn’t stop, it crashed to the side and made a little room.

Throwing out his hammer into the next block and diverting it just enough, he discarded weapons and threw himself forward, hands turning hard and stony with magic as he simply punched another block, massive form and mass countering the violent tidal wave of wooden cubes.

His defense wasn’t perfect. One of the blocks clipped his shoulder, and another nearly took out his legs from beneath him, but it was enough. Within thirty seconds, the throng of blocks had passed, and Quinn still stood, panting as his rage left him.

This time, they hadn’t made it out scot-free. Though enormous and powerful, Quinn hadn’t been indestructible during his rampage, and though he insisted he was fine, Sandra called a stop to the procession.

“Hadrian,” she said, simply, and the wizard brought out his component pouch, dabbing a drop of unholy water on his wrist and setting Quinn up with some infernal healing.

Even with that, Sandra was ready to press on a moment later. There had been no curses, no permanent injuries, and the blocks had helpfully filled up most of the crib and created a bridge for them to cross.

They moved deeper into the cave and, finally, came upon an opening and a camp.

Sandra held up her hand. “Shh.”

There wasn’t any movement, but a faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. A campfire had been burning recently.

The camp looked similar to the last one they’d found, if more extravagant. A few tents, large and spacious, along with a workbench and crafting station. Over the dead firepit, a cauldron sat, ready for potion brewing.

By the looks of it, and the smell, it was an active camp.

He’s still working here.

“We should go,” Tarja whispered, coming to the same conclusion.

“In and out, it’ll only take a moment,” Sandra insisted. “He’s not here now, or we’d have been spotted.”

“It’s too risky. If he catches us-” Tarja started to say.

“I could use those scrolls,” Hadrian muttered, pointing to the workbench. “It’d be quick-”

“And what if we get hit again?” Quinn piped in.

From within one of the tents, a baby’s wail rang out, loud and distinct in the cavern.

That made up everyone’s minds. For personal profit, risk could be debated, but someone was in need of rescue.

That left no room for questions. They were going in.

…

The night before.

“So, Hadrian,” Sandra said, fiddling with her new knife as they sat around the campfire. “You’ve been studying the Wizard’s writings. How’s that coming along?”

“Slow and steady.” Hadrian held out his hands, warming them over the fire. “It’s like learning a whole new school of magic. It’s got principles from all over, but they’re unified by a concept of using specific effects to maximize potency.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sandra asked, “What’s the biggest whammy you think you could put on someone, if you had to?”

He scratched at his chin, considering the possibilities. “Long term or short term?”

“Either.” Sandra shrugged. “Both.”

“Long term, it’s about layering effects more than the power of any single curse. Like tying up an orc with a thousand pieces of string; even if he could rip through the individual layers easily, all together they bind him and hold him down. Like… okay, anything we have individually is pretty bad, but consider if it all got stacked on top of each other, with half a dozen more effects besides.”

Sandra didn’t need to consider it. “We’d be helpless.”

“More than helpless. My magic could be taken away through half a dozen methods. Quinn certainly couldn’t fight while trussed up like a baby’s dolly with frills and lace.”

“You’d be surprised,” Quinn grunted, smirking.

“No, I wouldn’t be. Don’t underestimate this stuff.” Hadrian shook his head. “We got lucky, spread out the traps between us. If the Wizard had his hands on one of us and all the time he wanted to lay down curse after curse, he could probably render even the strongest hero harmless.”

Sandra chewed on his answer. “And you could do that, too?”

“Give me enough time and a passive target, I could do some nasty stuff, but the Wizard’s hardly going to lay down and take it.” He popped his knuckles and sat back. “I could do a lot of damage, but it’s still a couple orders of magnitude down from what he can pull off.”

“Okay, what about a short term whammy?” She watched him, her gaze dancing in the firelight.

“That’s easier. He’s got this real doozy of a spell that knocks out higher cognitive functions, he calls it 'Maturity Fog’. I could make it last maybe... thirty seconds or so, he could extend it to a couple minutes, maybe longer with metamagic. Blanking out the target’s ability to think, to put words together, to remember what they’re doing…”

“He turns them into an infant,” Tarja supplied.

“He makes them as helpless as one, at any rate,” Hadrian shrugged. “If I tried it, you’d probably feel confused and weak in the knees, and you’d have trouble thinking past whatever you were doing right in the moment.”

“Still really useful for pacifying a target,” Sandra replied.

“Hadrian’s already pacified, half the time,” Quinn chuckled. Hadrian shot him a dirty look but rolled his eyes, ignoring the slight.

Sandra didn’t skip a beat. “Is this all theory, or have you tried these spells out?”

“Mostly theory, a little practice. It won’t be any good in a fight against the wizard, he’s just too strong.”

Sandra smiled. “It doesn’t need to be.”

…

They crept into the cave, spreading out cautiously. Nobody was looking to be ambushed, not again.

“Wait here,” Sandra finally decided. “I’ll scout ahead. If I scream, run. If I scream ‘help’, come get me.”

The party obeyed, reluctantly. Nobody was going to leave her behind no matter what she said, but they weren’t going to argue orders to her face.

It wasn’t as hard to be stealthy as Sandra had anticipated. Though there weren’t too many obvious hiding spots, much of the cavern was cast with deep shadows, pockets of darkness left behind by the uneven firelight. While not invisible, Sandra was difficult to make out in those pockets, granting her a modicum of obscurity that made her more confident as she slipped ahead of the rest of the party.

Another infant’s wail pierced the air, loud and shrill and innocent. Sandra didn’t know what the wizard would be doing with an actual child, but she didn’t trust that it was anything good. Magic involving infants was always the blackest and most evil sort.

Ducking behind the nearest table, Sandra scooted forward on her hands and knees, staying out of most sightlines until she got up to the tent, raised the gently magical entrance flap, and peered inside.

No wizard. The tent was an expedition pavilion, bigger and more luxurious on the inside, and decorated like a nursery, with a playpen, stuffies, and a high, large changing table. Across the tent was a pale blue crib, with a small figure huddled behind the bars in a fetal position, but that was the only living being Sandra could detect.

She stepped inside, and realized her mistake. The only living being didn’t account for any enchanted guardians.

The largest of the stuffies, a plush anthropomorphic rabbit as big as Sandra, lumbered to life and dove towards her, remarkably quick. She barely had time to roll out of the way, her new knife blurring as she drew it and twitched her wrist.

Lodging itself in the bunny’s cotton chest, the knife buzzed and then returned to her grip, doing minimal damage.

She opened her mouth to call for help, but as she did, a swarm of pacifiers lifted up at the bunny’s command, swarming towards her. Recognizing the danger, Sandra clamped her mouth shut before any of the rubber bulbs could lodge themself between her lips, fending off the swarm as the bunny charged.

They went down in a heap of cotton and floof, rolling for dominance in the grapple. Her heavy, large backpack threw off her weight, making it difficult to stay in control. Sandra lost her knife in the tussle and found herself pinned, held down at the wrists by soft, fingerless paws.

No. I am not going to lose a fight to a cute, fluffy bunny.

Growling in annoyance, careful to keep her lips sealed, Sandra tucked her weight and rolled, accepting a glancing blow to the shoulder in trade as she rolled and took the dominant position in the grapple, pinning down the enormous rabbit. She had it in a compromising position, vulnerable, easy to strike, but her new knife was too far away, and the returning magic didn’t work after such a long period.

Good thing it wasn’t her only knife.

Raising her hand, black, umbral energy twisted and took shape as a lengthy dagger, which she brought down on the stuffy, sinking the dark blade into its throat.

It was a deadly blow. Stuffing sprayed and the bunny writhed, one of its legs thumping the ground as the stuffy went into shock.

Sandra didn’t relent. As she took another pathetic blow to the shoulder, weak from fluff loss, she drove the knife down towards the stuffy’s chest.

One satin paw caught her hand, pushing back, struggling as the knife pushed down. The bunny resisted, last gasps of strength holding her off as cotton continued to pour out of the gash in its throat. Her hands shook, its paws trembled, and then with a heavy groan of strain she overcame the stuffy and pushed the blade down.

With one last shudder, the bunny’s ears twitched, and then her umbral weapon cracked its candy heart and it lay still.

Sandra rolled away, panting for air through her nose. The fight couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, but it had taken a lot out of her, and she needed a moment to recover before she got to her feet and retrieved her new dagger.

The pacifiers in the air scattered once she took one out with the blade, leaving the tent empty once again.

Chest heaving, she shuffled over to the crib, looked inside, and then almost fell back with shock.

It was no infant. Though the figure in the crib was only a couple feet tall, it was clearly an adult who’d been shrunken down. A sodden, heavy diaper clung to their hips, while a outfit of lace and pink frills seemed to wrap all around them. Their hair was in pigtails, feet in booties, and a pacifier was in their lips, all glowing brightly with magic.

Sandra recognized the face. She’d seen it in a sketch.

It was the last adventurer who’d gone after the wizard.

He wasn’t the tall, handsome, strong warrior he’d been. Not only small, his frame had become slender and dainty, feminine, helpless. He could almost have been mistaken for a toddler, save for the proportions of his head to his body, and if Sandra didn’t recognize him she’d have assumed at a glance that it was a girl.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, and the adventurer’s eyes snapped open.

A dozen expressions flashed in his face. Fear, and hope, and uncertainty. He shook his head and pointed towards the tent flap, and Sandra had to try not to let his panic build in her.

“It’s okay, we’re here to rescue you,” she whispered. “Can you speak?”

Sitting up, he shook his head.

“Okay. I’m going to get you out of there.” Bending, Sandra moved to pick him up despite his urgent expression.

She yelped and fell back as the ribbons on his outfit lashed out, snagging around her wrists and the bars of the crib, holding him down and binding her hands. The ribbons even dove at the sleeves of her shirt, fabric seeming to knit together, as though the curse was trying to infect her own clothing. She jerked away and came free, dropping the adventurer. Little strips of fabric clung to her shirt, but seemed to fade away once disconnected from their host.

He shook his head again.

“So, you can’t get out of the crib?” she asked. He nodded, and she pursed her lips. “Fine. We’ll take the crib, too.”

Walking to the tent flap, she stuck her head out and called, “The coast is clear! Quinn, Hadrian, I need you!”

The two of them hurried over while Tarja watched the entrance. Snapping to readiness outside the tent, Quinn asked, “What is it?”

“Hadrian, do you have ‘Ant Haul’ prepared?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Always,” he replied.

“Cast it on Quinn. Quinn, you’ve got some carrying to do.”

He blinked, but reached for his component pouch and readied the magic. “What did you find?”

“Our predecessor,” Sandra replied. “Quinn, he’s stuck in a crib. Can’t get out, but the crib isn’t fastened down. You’ll have to carry the whole thing.”

“Alright, I-”

Outside, three sharp whistles rang out, followed by a whimpering scream.

Shit.

That was their signal for serious danger, and Tarja wasn’t one to jump the gun.

Feeling her back go cold, Sandra whispered, “Quinn, get in here! Hadrian, buy us time.”

“How?” She could see the fear in his expression, overwhelming his usually rational exterior.

“He’s a wizard. Get him monologuing,” Sandra whispered, as their half orc pushed past her and stepped into the tent.

Hadrian turned and marched out, and Sandra was certain she heard his voice quaver as he called, “Wizard of Paraphilia! I’ve come to bargain with thee!”

Inside the tent, she whispered to Quinn, “Get your expeditious retreat potion ready.”

He already had it out. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find out if this bastard bleeds,” Sandra replied. “On my signal, start running.”

Outside, she could hear a booming voice responding to Hadrian. The exact words were indistinct, but the tone was clear. How dare you come to my domain, yada yada.

Dropping onto her belly, Sandra shimmied out from beneath the side of the tent, coming around the back. Shucking off her backpack, she dug inside, digging for the potions and oils she had prepared.

She could see the Wizard out of the corner of her eye, dressed in robes that were such a deep purple that it threatened to hypnotize her just looking at them. As she downed the first potion, reducing her size in half, he glanced her way and she gasped.

Ducking behind the tent, she panted. Maybe he didn’t see me. Maybe he didn’t see what I was doing.

She’d have to hope, as she continued doing shots of magical beverages like she was back in the thieves guild celebrating a good heist.

“You’re barely more than an apprentice,” the wizard boomed, scoffing. “A plebian, dabbling with daddy’s magic books. You think you can challenge me?”

“I didn’t come to challenge you,” Hadrian replied, matching the wizard’s tone. “I came to bargain. Your evil ways have gone on long enough, and though I know I’m no match for you alone at this time, your end will come sooner or later.”

“Nobody’s stronger than me,” the wizard replied. “None can match my power, nor my wits. What force do you suggest could end me?”

Hadrian laughed. A genuine, cackling bit of mockery. “You haven’t even spotted the flaw in your spells?”

Sandra peered around the corner again. She couldn’t see Tarja at first, until she spotted the figure on the ground, hips arched off the ground as the ranger writhed in… That’s not pain.

The wizard had out a hand, holding a simple component - what looked like a dab of something moist on the tip of his finger. “There is no flaw in my spells!”

“You fool,” Hadrian said. “You’re so powerful, so high and mighty, but even a ‘plebian apprentice’ can see the gap in your armor.”

Behind the wizard, a figure reduced in size, rendered invisible with an enchanted oil, began creeping out from behind the tent towards the exit. The Wizard didn’t seem to notice, too focused on Hadrian. “Tell me!” he roared.

“Surrender and give up your arms, and I will,” Hadrian shot back.

“TELL ME,” the wizard roared, twisting his hand up and sending another shot of magic down his wrist. Tarja moaned and squirmed. “Tell me, or I will render this pathetic ‘adventurer’ down until they’re nothing more than a helpless, dribbling thing.”

That made Hadrian hesitate, but he knew the plan. If they didn’t stick to it, they’d all be at the wizard’s mercy. “Like a child, throwing a tantrum,” he said.

Anger flashed from the wizard, palpable and all consuming. Hand blurring over his component pouch, a little sample of fabric came out, and from his wrist a blur shot towards Tarja, wrapping around her and shooting up her body.

I’m sorry, Tarja, Sandra thought. Invisible, a few feet away from the wizard, her plain steel dagger got ready to strike.

“You think you’ve got the upper hand,” the Wizard of paraphilia scoffed, as Sandra’s dagger grew closer to his throat. “But you’ve got nothing. I know your rogue is behind me.”

Spinning, sudden and furious, he unleashed a ray of magic towards the invisible form behind him, dropping the spell that was keeping Tarja occupied. Sandra’s vision blurred from all the magical power in the air as his spell, a curse more intense than anything she’d seen, struck home and drove through every last magical defense in its way.

The invisibility dropped, and on the ground, wrapped up in a heavily cursed diaper, onesie, and pacifier, was… a doll.

A ‘Baby’s First Dolly’ doll, enchanted with six simple phrases, and walking, talking toddler action.

It had only been fifty gold at the nursing store, and with a little enlargement was almost exactly the same size as Sandra when she was shrunken down.

Sandra, who was shrunken down, had a potion going to suppress her magical auras, and who’d been relying on her natural abilities of stealth to maneuver herself around to the far side of the Wizard.

The trap had worked. He’d blown one of his most powerful spells on a dummy, and now it was Sandra’s turn to hit back with everything she had.

She dove at the wizard, screaming, ‘GO!’. Mighty and powerful he may have been, but he was no brawler, and they went down together. She slugged him in the face with a closed fist, and he winced. It felt good. The revenge was petty, but it was so, so satisfying.

Behind her she heard Quinn start to sprint towards the exit, unnaturally fast as his potion propelled him forward, looking like a character in a farce as he carried the wooden crib overhead while running at upwards of thirty miles an hour, faster than most horses. Hadrian dove to Tarja’s side and got her upright, feeding her another potion so she could flee herself.

That left Hadrian, standing by while he drank his own potion, and Sandra, grappling with the wizard.

He tried to concentrate on a spell, reaching for his component pouch, but she grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the stone and his magic broke off. She hit him again, a sucker punch in the throat, and he spluttered.

This time, when he went for his bag, he just accepted a strike across the chest in trade and went for the spell. With a pinch of baby powder thrown in Sandra’s face, magic burst, and the Maturity Fog spell overtook her.

She fell back, legs splaying as she hit the floor. “H-huh? Whe- wea…”

The wizard got to his feet, dusting himself off and facing Hadrian. “Just you left then, little dabbler. Your standing allies fled, and even if they make it out, they won’t be rescuing you. I lost my last prize captive, but you two will make excellent playmates.”

He looked back at Sandra, who was suckling on her thumb, a dazed expression on her face. If there were any thoughts rattling around in her brain, they were so suppressed as to be invisible in her face and body language.

“Little mage, tell me, what was the flaw?” the wizard asked, reveling in his success. “Be honest with me, and I’ll let you both keep a fraction of your minds.”

“I…” Hadrian started to say, eyes growing wide.

“You didn’t lie, did you?” The wizard took a step closer. “If you did, I would have to punish you.”

Before Hadrian could respond, there was a glimmer of magic as his pacifier reappeared, thoroughly muting him.

The wizard laughed. “Still a child, playing at adulthood. I will remove that for you, if you tell me what silly little ‘flaw’ you think you’ve found.”

Cheeks pink, body trembling, Hadrian nodded. All he could do was buy time, now, for the others to run.

Stalking forward, confident in his total superiority, the wizard gloated with every trembling, twitching flinch in Hadrian’s expression. He got close enough that he could reach out, and said, “First… get on your knees.”

Eyes wide, Hadrian obeyed, looking at the wizard.

“Now, plead,” the wizard said, lording over him. “Beg me to take out the pacifier, so you can apologize for your arrogance.”

Hadrian clasped his hands together, only able to make whimpering sounds as he threw himself at the wizard’s mercy.

The wizard let this go on for most of a minute before deciding it was enough. Reaching out, he took the pacifier and pulled it free. “Now, tell me.”

“There are two flaws,” Hadrian said, once his voice had returned. “Not one.”

“Oh?” the wizard raised one of his eyebrows, looking down at Hadrian with clear contempt.

“First, you’re an arrogant fool,” Hadrian spat, getting to his feet. “And second, all your spells use material components.”

…

“Best purchase of the day,” Sandra said, speaking quietly to Hadrian in the wee hours of the night. “The shopkeeper didn’t even know what he had.”

“What is it?” Hadrian looked down at the tacky, striped ring. “Just a lead ring?”

“Take a closer look,” Sandra said. “Underneath the lead paint, there’s magic. Hard to detect, but I saw it gleaming through a chipped part.”

He stared, then caught wind of the faint enchantment. “A ring of spell storing? That’s a great find for how cheap it was, but what are you going to do with it?”

“Not a ring of spell storing,” Sandra countered. “A ring of counterspells. Now, about that ‘Maturity Fog’ you said you could cast…”

...

Sandra, all her faculties completely intact, threw with perfect accuracy. Her knife sailed through the air against an unaware target, striking perfect and true.

If she’d wanted, she could have hurt the wizard, but that wouldn’t help them. He’d recover, heal himself, and hit back with cosmic fury.

So, her knife sailed right through the wizard’s component pouch.

Materials spilled to the ground. Glass vials of liquids shattered, a puff of baby powder made a cloud on the ground, all of it out of the wizard’s grasp for a few seconds. He’d have to scramble to get anything, the components that were still in one piece and usable.

His eyes widened as he looked down, and in that same moment, Hadrian kicked him in the balls.

The wizard dropped.

Sandra’s knife returned to her hand. They weren’t going to get another chance. She had one more potion, except it wasn’t a potion - it was an alchemical weapon. Flinging her bottle of alchemist’s acid, she splashed it across the pile of scattered material components, rendering them impotent.

Then, without another thought, she ran.

Hadrian sprinted next to her. With the potions flowing inside them, they flowed over the ground like water, feet barely touching stone as they glided towards freedom.

Tarja was stumbling when they caught up, and Quinn was puffing under the weight of the crib. Hadrian helped the former and Sandra aided the latter, and together they escaped the cave and bolted towards the road.

They'd timed their flight well. The scheduled merchant caravan was right on time, passing along the wide dirt path with guards and security.

"Sanctuary!" Sandra exclaimed. "The adventurers guild requests sanctuary!"

Guild agreements were as good as gold. They were accepted in without question, placed behind the spears and spells that the caravan guards wielded.

A moment later, the wizard soared above, his glare burning down on them. They'd made it with seconds to spare.

Sandra stuck her tongue out at him.

He was clearly doing the math in his head. He could burn the whole caravan, and probably come away unscathed.

That's the thing about guilds, though. He wouldn't just be fighting one caravan, he'd be making enemies across the empire, and Sandra's party was under that caravan's protection.

Even the Wizard of Paraphilia knew better than to tangle with the Merchant's Guild.

Glaring down at Sandra, he scoffed, turned, and flew away.

The guard watched him go, bristling and ready for a fight, then relaxed and moved to fall back in line. It was a long enough caravan that they could stand in place for a good, long while before reaching the end, so they had time to recover.

"Party, check in," Sandra said. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I’m-” Tarja said, leaning heavily on Hadrian. Her knees were shaking, and they looked just about ready to buckle beneath her. “I feel like… Whatever he hit me with…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sandra said. “What else did he do?”

She blushed, and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sandra didn’t like that, but she didn’t argue. “Alright. Quinn, can you give her a hand and take care of things?”

At that, Tarja turned bright pink. “What?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sandra said, having a strong suspicion what else the wizard had been doing to their ranger. “Hadrian, did he hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hadrian said. “No curses as far as I can tell, though…”

“Though what?”

Blushing out of sympathy, he pointed at Sandra’s waistband. “Your, em…”

She looked down, surprised to see that the hem of her shirt had lifted about two inches, and that the waistband of her diaper was poking out visibly from the top. She tugged it down, but it sprung back up.

Frowning, Sandra went for her bag, taking out a jacket and wrapping it around her waist so that it’d cover the elastic waistband better.

That… technically worked, but as soon as the waistband was covered, her pants seemed to shrink at the same time that the diaper puffed out. Very visible, distinct lines were formed showing the silhouette of her padding beneath her pants.

Sandra groaned at the new embarrassment. “Dammit. Okay, fine, whatever. It could be worse.” She glanced at the crib, which Quinn had set down a few paces away. The adventurer was trying to hide his face with his hands, but the ribbons of his outfit wouldn’t let him, holding him up so that everyone passing could clearly see both who he was and exactly what he was wearing. “It could be a lot worse.”

“We got out alive, and we rescued a captive. That’s a good day,” Hadrian said.

“Not much of a scouting mission,” Sandra sighed. “Obviously, the rescue comes first, but we didn’t learn much. Maybe he’ll be able to give us some information, but I’m not holding out for that.”

“Well…” Hadrian smirked.

Sandra recognized that expression. He had a trick up his sleeves. “What?”

“You weren’t the only one making secret plans to trick the Wizard.” He looked up, in the direction of the cave, and smiled.

Sandra followed his gave, and blinked. Bobbing towards them in the air, its small stature granting it natural stealth, was Hadrian’s Ioun Wyrd. It was carrying a simple burlap sack, held in its rocky appendages.

“What… is that…” Sandra said, blinking.

“While the wizard was chasing after us,” Hadrian smirked. “Dwayne stayed behind and… shall we say borrowed some things from the wizard’s work table.”

Sandra was caught off guard by Hadrian referring to the little ball of rocky outcroppings with a name, but she rolled with it. Raising an eyebrow towards Dwayne, she eyed the bulging sack it was carrying. “How many things?”

Hadrian made a few chittering sounds, his familiar replied, and he said, “I guess, most of them.”

“So…” Sandra considered that. “Good scouting mission?”

She held out her fist at waist height, and Hadrian quietly bumped his own knuckles into hers. “Good scouting mission.”

 

Also, check out my books on Gumroad: 
Delta Lambda's Little Stinker (An ABDL Hazing Story) 
The Product Tester

[Silver]

Loving this story. Every little bit.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 7

 

Sandra pulled down the hem of her shirt, standing outside the brilliant red tent that she’d been summoned to.

It didn’t help. She would pull her shirt down, and her pants just slipped lower, so that the waistband of her diaper was visible. If she pulled her pants up, the shirt slipped up again. When she tried on a skirt, the hem jumped up to ensure that her diaper was always visible, bulging out beneath it. No outfit combination worked. There was always just a bit of diaper poking out, no matter how she arranged it.

Grumbling, she reminded herself that curses were nothing to be embarrassed about, and ducked inside the tent.

“Dazo-Zoan Meraxus?” she asked, stumbling over the foreign name.

The caravan’s leader was in the middle of dinner, sitting on a lush carpet, sipping on something rich and steaming. He paused when she entered, gave her a nod, and gestured to the opposite end of the carpet.

“Sandra Ca-shiddy?” he asked, matching her own stilted speech with his own.

“‘Cassidy’,” she said, sitting down across from him. “You asked to speak with me?”

“Yes. Have you supped?”

“We brought our own rations, I wouldn’t want to overextend your hospitality.” Sandra smiled, pleasantly, trying to remember the western rules of hospitality.

Dazo-Zoan eyed her, but didn’t press the subject of dinner. “We’ve got an issue, for which we are needing assistance from you.”

“Of course. We’re in your debt for aiding us, so we will happily return the aid. What do you need?”

The merchant sipped his drink, pressing his lips into a line as he thought. “I wonder if you might be wanting to ask for help from your guild. This matter might be beyond what you are hoping to face.”

“My party is strong, and we’ve been known to punch above our weight class when we need to,” Sandra said, sullenly crossing her arms over her waist, as though it might hide the clear evidence of her curse. “Tell me what you’re dealing with.”

“We’re approaching Tri-stan’s Bridge over Rivers-don,” Dazo-Zoan explained.

“Ah.” That filled it all in.

The lord of Tristan had died some five years before, and without any heirs, it turned into a squabble over who had claim to the fortress that watched over his bridge. A year of infighting later, and the problem had been solved when the fortress was destroyed, leaving a massive bridge and no particular owner or guardian.

Sandra knew that there had been a couple squabbles over ownership, and that it was no safe place to cross. Who, or what, held it currently, though, she couldn’t guess. “Do you know what danger, specifically?”

The merchant nodded. “We’ve been hearing the telling of a troll. A large troll.”

“So, you need us to clear out this troll for you, in exchange for the safe passage to your destination,” Sandra finished. “Do you need it dead, or just preoccupied?”

“So long as our shipments have nothing bothering them,” Dazo-Zoan said, “We won’t be caring what happens to it.”

Sandra nodded. “We can do that, then. No question about it.”

…

“We can fight a troll, right?” she asked, sitting down next around her party’s fire. They’d bought a little food from the merchants, and were borrowing sleeping rolls for the night.

“I can fight anything,” Quinn boasted.

“Maybe you can, but you can’t win against anything,” Tarja pointed out.

Hadrian had his nose stuck in a book, and barely looked up at Sandra. “Ultimately, it depends on the troll. As long as we’ve got fire or acid, though, we should be able to handle it without too much trouble.”

“That’s what I’d thought,” Sandra said, leaning forward to peer into the stew bowl. “Are you learning anything from those books we got?”

Looking up from his reading, Hadrian wrinkled his nose. “Sandra, you need a change.”

“No, I don’t,” she frowned, though she still leaned back and glanced at her diaper over her shoulder to be sure.

“Then…”

“It’s our extra party member,” Quinn said, glancing at the crib they’d brought along and getting to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

“You managed to get him out of his crib?” Sandra asked.

“No, but we figured out a way to at least change him and get him some food,” Tarja supplied. “As long as you’re not intending to remove him, the curse keeping him in place doesn’t seem as temperamental.”

“We’ll need something more powerful to free him, but that’ll have to wait until we’re at a city and we can gather material components, or just find someone with the guild who can help him,” Hadrian said, resuming his reading. “Preferably the latter, so it’s someone else’s problem.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “You’re grouchy tonight.”

“I’m not grouchy,” Hadrian muttered.

Doubtful, Sandra scooped herself up a bowl of dinner, warming herself over the fire. “Well, one way or another, we’re fighting a troll tomorrow. It’ll be nice to get back to the fundamentals; fighting monsters and protecting people, that’s what we’re best-”

She hesitated, getting a prickly feeling on the back of her neck. Tarja picked up on it immediately, frowning. “What is it?”

“I think we’re being watched,” Sandra said, getting to her feet and looking around.

“Where?”

“Don’t know,” Sandra said. “It’s scrying.”

“The wizard, then,” Tarja said.

“Probably.”

Sandra eyed the sky watchfully, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop it herself. “Hadrian?”

“Counterspell a master like him? Unlikely,” Hadrian muttered, crouched over his book. “Let him watch. Not much he could see that he didn't already know.”

It was probably true, but it still made Sandra uncomfortable to know that the wizard was keeping such a close eye on them. “Still, let’s mind what we say. We don’t want to let anything slip that he might find useful.”

“Besides our exact location, strengths, weaknesses, all the curses we’re afflicted with, and what we’re planning on doing tomorrow,” Hadrian pointed out.

He was definitely in a mood, but it wouldn’t do much good to bicker with him over the point. Sandra just eyed the night sky, glowered, and dug into dinner.

…

Sandra fell asleep late, and when she did, she fell asleep hard.

It had been a long day, made longer by the paranoia that kept her up. Knowing that she was being watched, knowing that the Wizard would be coming for her sooner or later, it wasn’t conducive to good rest.

She knew that the Wizard wouldn’t attack them while they were with the caravan, but what then? They couldn’t stay with it forever. Their arrangement would only take them to the next city over, and from there, they could only hide out in guild taverns and church strongholds for so long.

Eventually, they’d be exposed, and then the Wizard would come for them. Maybe in a few days, maybe in a couple weeks, maybe in a month, but he’d come for them, and she didn’t know what to do after that.

When she did finally sleep, she found herself in a cave.

The Wizard’s cave.

She was alone, naked, except for her diaper. Turning on her heels, she looked around, shivering in the cold. “Hello?”

Nobody responded. There was a tent, and from inside, she heard a baby’s wail.

Sandra was walking towards it, then. Running towards it. Fleeing the thing that was coming up behind her, but her steps were too slow, like she was running underwater. The tent wasn’t getting any closer, and the thing behind her was, and then she was inside the tent, safe, it hadn’t seen her.

But, inside the tent, there were three identical cribs.

And in each crib, bound and gagged and dressed like infants, were her friends.

They were sobbing, wailing for help. Sandra tried to approach, but her feet were rooted down.

She opened her mouth to call out, but there was a pacifier lodged between her lips, rendering her silent.

Reaching out a hand, she tried to grasp at her friends, but there was nothing she could do as pink ribbons and puffs of baby powder swallowed them, until she couldn’t make out their figures beneath all the juvenile concealment, and then they were gone.

Taken from her.

Sandra screamed.

“Shh! Shh, it’s alright,” Tarja said, crouching over her. “Shh, Sandra. You were just having a nightmare.”

It was still nighttime, with the almost-full moon shimmering down at them. Hadrian was still crouched by a dimming fire, suckling on his pacifier while he read his book, though Quinn was snoring on his sleeping roll.

“There-” Sandra panted. “You were- I was-”

She couldn’t remember the details.

“You were here, asleep, dreaming,” Tarja assured her. “Just a nightmare.”

“A nightmare,” Sandra said. “Or a Nightmare. This stinks of the Wizard’s meddling.”

“You think he would do that?” Tarja asked, before shaking her head. “Stupid question, I know.”

“I don’t put anything past him. If he wasn’t concerned about guild interference, he’d have already come down here and… done what he did in the dream.”

“Which is?”

“Taken all of you,” Sandra said.

They both sat there in silence for a long moment. Tarja broke it by reaching out and squeezing Sandra’s hand. “If he takes us, you’ll get us back.”

“I can’t-”

“You can. Maybe not instantly, but you can. You’re the best of us, Sandra, and you don’t give up.” Tarja smiled, though the expression was half lost in the dim light.

“I can’t rescue you if he takes me, too,” Sandra whispered.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ll get your potty training back. I’ll…” Tarja blushed, looking away. “We’ll stop him, and we’ll get put back the way we should be.”

“He’s the most powerful Wizard I’ve ever heard of,” Sandra argued. “Outside of legend, at least. If nobody ever wants to tangle with him, there’s a reason for it. And we’re a team of barely-better-than amateurs.”

“If he’s such hot stuff, why’s he still skulking around in the shadows, huh?” Tarja asked. “It’s because he’s not as strong as he wants us to think he is. No other reason for him to hide in caves like a scared kitten.”

Sandra was dubious, but she didn’t argue the point. “If you say so, but I’m not going to keep my hopes up that he’ll be a pushover.”

“Good. That caution is important. But he’s not invincible, either, don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“Now, we should both get some sleep. There’s a troll to slay in the morning.”

…

The merchants were of the ‘early to bed, early to rise’ mentality. It was barely the crack of dawn when they started moving, and that meant it was barely the crack of dawn when the party started moving, too. It was that, or be left behind.

Sandra was in a foul mood from the poor sleep, but she couldn’t complain much, and she did her best to keep a positive exterior. Things weren’t hopeless, yet, and her party needed all the morale boosting they could get.

Hadrian made no such efforts. As they walked down the dirt road, he said, “Gods, I don’t think it’s right that people should be walking this early in the day,” he groaned, as they shuffled down the road.

“We’re guests,” Sandra said. “They’re protecting us. We move on their schedule.”

“Hmmph,” Hadrian grumbled. “We’re guests because they have a contract with the guild, and because we’re going to fight their troll. It’s not like they’re helping us for free.”

“If it weren’t for them, we’d be trapped in the wizard’s cave right now, subject to whatever in damnation he wanted to do to us,” Sandra pointed out. “So stop complaining.”

Hadrian glowered, but shook his head and dropped that particular line of grumbling. “I’ve got work I could be doing.”

“When we get to a city, we’ll have all the time you want,” Sandra said. “We’re in no hurry.”

“We are, though,” Hadrian shot back. “If we don’t figure out what the wizard is working on in time, then he’s going to flay us alive.”

“More likely, he’ll swaddle us to death or something,” Quinn called, from a few paces back. “Or transmogrify us to babies and sell us to an orphanage or something.”

“Orphanages don’t buy babies,” Tarja said, ribbing him. “How do you think orphanages work?”

“Never been to one,” Quinn shrugged. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Anyways,” Hadrian snapped. “This is absolutely critical. I need to figure out what’s going on here, what he’s planning. If I don’t, we’re all doomed, and it’ll be my fault. And you’re asking why I’m complaining?”

Sandra nodded. His anxiety wasn’t completely misplaced, even if she thought he was being too hard on himself. “And?”

He looked at Sandra, frowning. “And what?”

“And how’s it going?” She supplied. “What have you learned so far?”

He looked off on the horizon, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing.”

“That’s not true. You picked up a couple of his spells-”

“Spells aren’t what we need. Learning how to cast his spells is easy. I can’t figure out why.”

Quinn, sensing the tension, jogged up. “Didn’t we talk about this before? It’s more efficient, or some such.”

“Maybe, some of the time, but he’s… I don’t know. I just don’t know, it doesn’t make sense.” Hadrian shook his head. “There’s an underlying logic, but I can’t figure it out. It’s like… Do you ever watch two experts playing Senet?”

“Not really,” Sandra said. “I’m not much for games. I know the rules.”

“Watching two masters play, it’s impossible to determine what they’re doing. Even if you know the rules, trying to follow the logic is a completely different experience.” He shook his head. “And that’s where I am. I know the rules of the spells he’s using. I can tell you how to cast one. I’ve got basic, mechanical knowledge of what he’s doing, but his reasoning is on a completely different level.”

“What are you stuck on?” Sandra asked. “Maybe I could help?”

“How?” Hadrian scoffed. “You’re barely a dabbler.”

“Because talking it out helps, when you’re stuck,” Sandra said. “Hadrian, you’re upset with the Wizard, not with me. Don’t act like you are.”

Hadrian fumed, but before he could issue a retort, the pacifier that had been plaguing him reappeared between his lips. He groaned, glancing at Sandra.

“Promise you’ll calm down?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

His glare deepened. Sandra removed the pacifier anyways.

“Talking it out would-”

“He’s watching us,” Tarja said, pointing.

“What?” Sandra looked over her shoulder, then followed the line that Tarja was pointing out. “Gods. He is.”

Up on the hillside to their right, making absolutely no effort to hide himself, there was a tiny figure staring down at them. Even as small and far away as he was, it was obviously the Wizard.

He wasn’t moving to attack, he was just… watching. Waiting.

“Why don’t you just walk on up and ask him yourself?” Quinn suggested.

“Don’t,” Sandra chided. “Not even as a joke. The moment we’re past the border of the caravan, he’ll strike, and they won’t come to help us then. We stay together.”

“What’s he watching for, then?” Quinn asked. “Couldn’t he just use scrying?”

“Because he wants to remind us that he’s there,” Sandra said, quietly. “Let’s keep walking.”

…

“Sandra?”

She had to turn, and then look down a little, at the spry halfling that had come up behind her. “Yes, that’s me.”

“You sent for someone to retrieve your camp possessions,” the halfling explained. Gesturing with his head to the large haversack he was carrying, he added, “I loaded it all in here.”

“Right, thank you.” Digging in her pocket, Sandra passed him two silver pieces. “Here, for your trouble.”

He nodded, then smirked. “So you’re adventurers? Like, with the guild?”

“That’s right,” Sandra said, noting that his eyeline was directed towards her waist, where the top of her diaper was impossible to hide. “Why?”

“I always wanted to join up with them, but they said I didn’t have what it took,” the halfling explained. “Came to them when I was just a kid, showed them what I could do. They told me I wasn’t mature enough.”

“Then you talked to the wrong people in the guild,” Sandra said, simply, taking the sack and opening it up. The magic meant that she could retrieve whatever she wanted just by thinking about it and reaching for it, so she went through a mental checklist.  Everything was there, as far as she could tell - Their sleeping rolls, their spare clothes, their travel rations. “They don’t have tests. You want in, you just apprentice with someone who’s licensed, complete at least three paid quests, then you can start… paying… dues. Okay, creep, where are they?”

“Where’s what?”

“My underwear,” Sandra said, digging into the bag with her hand, but it didn’t accomplish much. “They’re not in here with my other clothes.”

“I didn’t take ‘em,” the halfling raised an eyebrow. “You think I’d want to steal your diapers?”

“Not my diapers, I only have one-” Sandra groaned. “Panties. Regular panties. What I normally wear, when I’m not cursed.”

“I packed up everything I found at your camp, lady,” the halfling said. “If it’s not in that bag, then it got stolen. Now, stop insulting me, get your crap, and give me my haversack back.”

“Fine,” Sandra frowned, and started taking things out of the bag, moving it into her own backpack or distributing it to the rest of the party, wordless and annoyed. She was certain that the little creep had stolen her panties, but she couldn’t prove it and it wasn’t worth an argument, so she just went along with passing out their stuff.

Once she’d passed everything else out, she found a folded piece of paper in the bottom of the sack, dyed a rich blue. It definitely hadn’t been in their inventory before.

Pulling it out, she read the note.

“I took the liberty of removing a couple items you have no need for anymore, as payment for what you stole. You should thank me - those big girl panties were just dead weight for a baby like you.”

Sandra crumpled up the note and tossed it to the side of the road, shoving the bag back towards the halfling. Glowering, she passed him another silver piece, too. “You did your job. Sorry.”

...

The bridge was as impressive as its reputation implied, even with its fortress crumbled. Almost two thousand feet long, with deep arches that sank into the black water, casting long shadows in the afternoon light.

There was no cover on that bridge, almost no terrain. That was deliberate, of course; any army trying to cross it would have to be pelted with arrows and spells for a third of a mile before with no protection save for what they could carry. At one time, a massive enchanted pump system could funnel water up from the river and flood the bridge, casting attackers back with a tidal wave, but that magic was long since gone along with the rest of the fortress.

Now, it was just a ruin, and a long, stone path over the great Riversdon.

“Be cautious moving through the ruins,” Sandra advised her party, as they scouted out ahead of the caravan. “Just because the troll has been spotted living under the bridge doesn’t mean he hasn’t moved on up. He could be anywhere, waiting to ambush us.”

“What’s the plan if it does?” Hadrian asked.

“Same as the plan if he doesn’t,” Sandra replied. “Beat the crap out of him until the beast either runs away or dies, then set fire to the body so it can’t regenerate.”

“Easy peasy,” Quinn said, hitching up his skirt and hefting his hammer. “Let’s get this done.”

The busty, burly half-orc led the way as they crept through the ruins, following the main path through what had once been a series of portcullises and gates. Half-standing structures and demolished towers loomed, providing many places for beasts to hide, but nothing came after them.

“We should just let the caravan’s guards handle this,” Hadrian grumbled.

“Stop complaining,” Sandra snapped. “You’ve been in a mood ever since-”

“Shh,” Tarja said, holding up a hand. “Do you hear that?”

The party stopped, holding their breath and listening.

Quiet, and far ahead, was a low, deep rumble. At first, Sandra thought it was a distant earthquake, before she realized that she was hearing snoring.

“Damn,” she whispered. “It sounds big.”

“Everything’s small when you knock it on its back,” Tarja said. “We know where it is. Let’s go kill it.”

Sandra nodded, summoned a black umbral dagger into her hand, and nodded.

The party marched forward, no longer being subtle or quiet. The bridge was a sturdy, old thing. Strong enough that even the blasts that had taken apart the fortress couldn’t bring it down.

When they stepped onto it, they entered the Troll’s domain, and it reacted.

The snoring stopped. Quinn took on a defensive posture, Sandra slipped off to the side to prepare a flanking maneuver, while Tarja and Hadrian readied their ranged attacks. A classic marching order.

Three hundred feet ahead, the troll clambered up from beneath the bridge, rolling up onto all fours and roaring. The bellow was loud, loud enough to shake them to their core.

Sandra felt her diaper grow suddenly warm, and blushed at her body’s automatic fear response.

Loping towards them, the troll picked up speed, galloping towards the party. It was broad enough that it could reach out and touch both sides of the bridge, and it crossed the distance between itself and the party fast.

Tarja loosed an arrow, and it struck home, but the troll barely noticed. It was two hundred feet away, gaining, ready to slam into Quinn.

Quinn bellowed back at the troll, enraged at the challenge.

Time seemed to pass slowly, as though every six seconds were an eternity for Sandra to analyze the situation, but there wasn’t much she could do. She had to wait for the troll to get close, so she could flank him and strike.

“Get down!”

She turned, confused. Hadrian was waving his arms and shouting, pointing off to the right, over the river.

What is he talking about? She turned to look, spotting the figure flying towards the bridge, arms out, and fire building on his fingertips.

There was no more warning than that before the roiling balls of fire flew towards the bridge, enormous so hot that Sandra could feel them from dozens of yards away.

Each ball slammed into the troll, one at a time. Sandra could see the beast, alarmed, get knocked to the ground, but after that it was consumed by fire and vanished amidst the conflagration.

When the fire cleared, the troll was just a charred body.

It was a terrifying display of power. It hadn’t just been easy for the wizard to defeat the troll, it had been trivial, barely something worth thinking about. Like killing an annoying mosquito.

The Wizard floated to a stop over the body like it was nothing.

“We’re still with the caravan!” Quinn shouted, raising his hammer.

“Of course you are. I just wanted to do you a little favor while I was passing through,” the Wizard said, smiling broadly. “I’ll see you when you reach your destination. Hopefully you can fare a little better than the troll.”

Sandra gritted her teeth. The threat was obvious, and there was little she could do to argue with it. He really was just that much stronger than them.

“We beat you once,” Hadrian spat. His voice was loud enough to be heard without shouting.

The wizard had been ready to fly away, but he stopped and glanced back at him, sneering. “You escaped me once, when I wasn’t trying. It won’t happen a second time.”

Dammit, Hadrian, don’t run your mouth now, Sandra thought, but he kept talking. “You don’t know what else we’ve got up our sleeves. Your first humiliation was just a taste.”

“Your caravan doesn’t protect you completely, child,” the Wizard said, glaring darkly. “I-”

Sandra stepped in, cutting off the passions before they could rise to real combat. “I want to offer you a bargain!”

The Wizard stopped, looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“What’s your price?” Sandra asked. “To leave us alone. You don’t bother us, we don’t bother you.”

“I don’t need your bargain for you not to bother me,” the Wizard scoffed. “I’ll just take you at my earliest convenience.”

“I can make your life hard.”

“How?”

“By hiding,” Sandra explained, simply. “The guild has ways to escape powerful enemies. You’ll get us, eventually, but how long are you willing to spend tracking down vermin when you’ve got more important things to worry about? Months? Years? Powerful or no, you’re still mortal, and do you really want to waste your time on us?”

The Wizard scratched his chin, scowling. “Once I’ve mastered my school…” he grimaced. “My price will be steep.”

“I’ll pay it, if I can,” Sandra said.

“I promise you, it can be paid.” The Wizard’s expression sparkled as he considered his options, and for the first time, Sandra thought he looked positively… happy. “First, I will provide a cage that will lock things away completely, so that they cannot even be touched or perceived, locked away beneath the diaper you wear,” he declared, grinning. “Then, I will provide an outfit that  cannot be removed or covered up.”

“The outfit can’t be binding or restraining,” Sandra said. “If it renders me immobile or helpless, there’s no deal.”

“You’ll be as mobile as you are now, though you’ll feel quite foolish,” the Wizard promised her.

“Sandra…” Tarja said, quietly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s this, or he hunts us down and does worse to all of us,” Sandra hissed back. Raising her voice, she called back, “Is that your total price?”

“Yes. I’ve already crafted the items I have in mind. I will conjure these things, and they will appear fully formed, replacing what is already worn. And then I will fly away, and never come within a mile of you.” He grinned. “Though that doesn’t mean I won’t be checking up on your humiliation from time to time.”

“What assurance do we have that you won’t break your end of the deal?” Sandra asked.

“If I do, the clothes and the cage will fall away and you’ll be free,” the Wizard suggested.

The terms were too light. He was playing them, and Sandra knew it. Not lying, just getting the better end of the deal - Sandra would be humiliated and forced to wear whatever outfit he wanted her in, and once he decided he wanted to track them down properly and take the whole party captive, he still could. As fast as he could move, only having a mile of warning was not much time to escape.

But, it was time. Time to learn, or to grow, or just to try and get a few of their curses broken.

“I accept your terms,” Sandra said, nodding.

“Then it’s a deal.” The Wizard raised his hands, focused for a moment, and without giving a moment for Sandra to reconsider, summoned the magic to complete his end of the deal.

Sandra waited for the magic to take her.

Instead, she heard a gasp, and a sudden crackling of magic a few paces off to her side.

Spinning, she saw Hadrian lifted up by magic, a subtle glow emanating from his body as his arms spread out and the clothes on his body turned to ribbons, flying off him in a colorful display.

Naked, floating in the air, he gasped as a ball of light formed between his legs, coalescing into a silvery metal cage that closed between his legs, sealing away his cock behind the shimmering matter. With a burst of power and blinding light, then, the cage disappeared, along with everything it contained, reversing the parts and leaving behind a vagina in its place.

Hadrian’s eyes bulged in discomfort and alarm, but his pacifier reappeared between his lips before he could cry out, and a moment later, a pair of plain, white, briefs slipped up between his legs.

Sandra recognized the briefs, unfortunately. They were identical to a pair she’d put on in a cave, a couple weeks prior. As soon as they were on him, the thin fabric transformed and swelled, changing into a thick, puffy diaper, spreading his thighs apart with a little puff of baby powder.

And then, spreading out from the crotch of his diaper, a slightly glossy black substance began to spread, creeping across his body like a hyperactive plant, quickly covering his bare skin from his thighs down and waist up. Smooth and artificial, when the black rubbery substance made it to his feet, it formed around them in the shape of intensely steep, pink heels that couldn’t be removed. Pink laces ran up the front of them, though they were purely decorative - there was no way to untie them, or even to remove the boots if the laces came loose.

The substance spread up to his neck and stopped, terminating in a hard, pink collar that accented the rest of the body glove. It also spread down his arms and to his hands, enclosing his fingers like a form fitting glove.

Once he was completely sealed in, Hadrian dropped to the ground and fell prone, panting behind his pacifier.

“This is goodbye, then,” the wizard said, chuckling. “Remember, if you try and break this curse, then you’ll be breaking your end of the deal, and I’ll happily come to extract my revenge in full. Ta ta, children.”

Sandra wheeled to shout at him, but before the words could escape her lips, he slipped through a dimension door and vanished.

No point arguing with his wake. Running over, she crouched by Hadrian, pulling the pacifier out. “Are you okay?”

Hadrian shook his head, breathed heavily for a second, and then started laughing.

He’s hysterical, Sandra thought, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hadrian, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d go after you, but-”

“That fool,” Hadrian wheezed, grinning as he choked on his laughter. “What an absolute, arrogant amatuer.”

Sandra blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“He-He gave the game away,” Hadrian cackled, barely able to speak over his laughter. “I know what he’s trying to do, and I think I know how to stop him.”

 

 

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BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! 

After finishing this chapter and chatting about it with the commissioner, I had an idea that I couldn't help but type up. So, enjoy this bonus short following up on the events of Chapter 7:

 

“I’ll just have to… ride a horse, or something,” Hadrian moaned, sitting off to the side of the bridge while the caravan walked past. “We can afford a horse, right?”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s not that bad,” Sandra rolled her eyes, leaning against what had once been a toll house.

The wizard threw up his hands, looking down at the black-and-pink heels that were encased around his feet, the stiletto almost six inches long. “Not that bad? I can’t walk!”

Standing up straight, Sandra said, “Here, I’ll show you. I’ve worn them once, it’s not that bad.” Crouching, she took off her boots and touched a finger to both her feet, summoning umbral energy to create a pair of shadowy black stiletto heels. “It’s like- Woah!”

When she tried to stand, she stumbled and nearly fell, pinwheeling her arms for balance.

“Not that bad, huh?” Hadrian snorted, watching her from a sitting position.

“... the ones I wore weren’t nearly so tall,” Sandra admitted, straightening. “But here, look. I can walk in them, just fine.” She took a few tentative steps, ankles wobbling a little, moving in a slow circle. It went alright, until the heel caught a crack between two of the stones that made up the bridge and she tumbled, falling forward and kicking up dirt.

Tarja, watching with Quinn, shook her head. “Do you need some help?”

“Have you worn heels like this?” Sandra asked, getting to her feet.

“More than you. Let me try.” Walking over, she slipped out of her soft leather shoes, lifting her feet so Sandra could summon another umbral pair for her. “Alright, Hadrian. Watch, it’s simple. You just walk in them.”

Her form was, indeed, better than Sandra’s. A little wobbly on the cobblestone, maybe, but not bad given the footing.

“I can’t do that,” Hadrian moaned. “I’m not some graceful lady with all sorts of poise and care. You expect me to walk around like that?”

“You’ll get used to it!” Tarja assured him. “Give it time.”

“I can’t do it.” Hadrian shook his head. “You two are the most graceful people I know, and you’re both struggling.”

“Whinging!” Quinn said, loudly.

“Excuse me?” Hadrian looked over his shoulder, glaring at the half orc. “I took the hit for the rest of the party, and-”

“We got out of this alive, you’re not hurt, and you’re just complaining about something easy.” Quinn shot.

“Easy?” Hadrian spluttered. “And besides - I have to wear this outfit, constantly, it’s humiliating!”

“Oh? Tell me about it,” Quinn said, looking down at his own dress.

“It’s not the same,” Hadrian said. “Not in the slightest. You try walking around in these things.”

Quinn shook his head, lumbering over and tugging off his heavy combat boots, the only part of his armor that hadn’t been changed to look like a delicate dress. “Sandra.”

“Er…” Sandra said, raising an eyebrow up at him. “Are you sure? It’s-”

“Just give me the damned shoes,” Quinn confirmed, nodding stiffly.

Sandra summoned the heels one at a time, and Quinn straightened. Just to be safe, Sandra stepped back - she didn’t want him to fall on her when he stumbled.

“Okay, like this.” Quinn walked in a smooth circle, quickly, his ankles not so much as wobbling. “Heel to toe, not toe to heel; You’re not wearing snow shoes, so don’t stomp around like you are. Take small steps, and keep your posture straight - you’ve got more balance to worry about than normal.”

As he walked, almost at a jogging speed, moving circles around Sandra and Tarja, he kept up his advice. “Visualize that you’re walking in a straight line, and keep your footing steady. Watch where you’re going, at first, until you’ve developed an instinct for where to step. Your heels should fit perfectly, so there’s no concern about that, but you’ll still be sore until you develop the right tone - Half the learning curve is just getting used to using muscles differently. Now, get up, stop whinging, and get used to walking in them before I strut on over there and kick you in the ass.”

Hadrian spluttered, shut his mouth, and then got shakily to his feet. He stumbled, but Quinn grabbed his arm and helped him straighten up.

“There, see? You’ll get the hang of it.” He glanced over at Sandra and Tarja, who were both staring, agape.

“How in damnation-” Sandra started.

“Where did you-” Tarja said, at the same time.

Quinn shrugged, then winked. “A man’s got to have a few secrets.”

[Panther Cub]

WOOO! Can't wait for the next chapter!

[kerry]

What a pleasant surprise to find more of this story tonight! Loving it!

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapters.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 8

 

“No way,” Sandra said, blinking away the shock. “A school?”

“Believe it,” Hadrian replied, sitting on a rock past the end of the bridge. They’d had to carry him here, given that the latex bodysuit and high heeled boots were making it hard for him to walk. “It all fits. I’m sure if I sit down and start going through the documents I have on hand, it’ll just prove my theory.”

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Tarja said. She was sitting down next to him, watching the caravan move past. “He’s going to start teaching magic?”

“That’s not what a school is,” Hadrian said. “Magic is arranged into… shall we say, types, called ‘Schools’. There are eight of them.”

“Like, Divine, Arcane, that sort of thing?”

“I mean… no. The Schools are more broad than that, and they define the type of magic being cast. You’ve got Illusion for spells that create… uh, illusions, for example. Nearly every spell in existence falls into a school - I can count the universal spells I know of on one hand, and the ones I can cast with just my thumbs.”

Quinn frowned. “Something I never really understood - Does magic come from schools, or do we come up with spells, then decide a school later?”

“It’s complicated,” Hadrian said. “It’s kind of both. Magic is influenced by human perception. Wizards specialize in schools, because that’s how our understanding of magic is shaped. If the Wizard of Paraphilia manages to make a new school, from scratch, it would fundamentally, permanently change the way that we use magic.”

“It’d be a sort of immortality,” Sandra realized, explaining it out loud as she got it. “Kingdoms, legends, they all rise and fall, but magic schools don’t go away. Damnation, they transcend planes. His work would be permanent. He’d never be forgotten, not in an eternity.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Quinn said.

“Think again,” Hadrian said. “Magic and human nature affect each other. Now, think about the kind of magic he’s creating - It’s powerful, making it attractive to anyone looking for easy strength, and it’s cruel. Do you want to live in a plane where the strongest people, those with the greatest authority, got there through sexual torture and malice?”

Quinn thought about that, then nodded. “Point taken.”

“So, how do we stop him?” Tarja asked.

“We find someone who’s got a vested interest in preventing that, and we make them help us. There’s a Temple of Calistria in the place we’re going, right?”

“I think,” Sandra said. “Most big cities have one.”

Hadrian looked down at the latex boots that were sealed around his feet. He swallowed, nervously. “Well then, we just need to get to the city. For now, I’ll just have to… ride a horse, or something. We can afford a horse, right?”

…

“Oh gods my feet hurt,” Hadrian moaned, as they walked in through the city gates.

“You’re complaining,” Quinn grunted, hefting the heavy burden on his back. “I’m carrying a couple hundred pounds of cursed crib and you’re complaining.”

They’d parted ways with the caravan upon arriving at the city, and since the adventurer was a guild problem, they had taken him with them. Since they lacked horses and carts, though, it meant Quinn was carrying the adventurer until they found a place to leave him.

“I didn’t know that my calves could ache this badly,” Hadrian whined. “And everything’s hot, and tight, and- Ugh.”

“We’re all tired. It’s been a long day of marching, after an even longer day with the Wizard.” Sandra shook her head. “Even Tarja’s flagging a bit, and I’ve seen more feats of endurance from her than from anyone else in the party.”

“I’m not,” Tarja protested, but her deflection was undermined by the way she stumbled as she walked. Everyone needed sleep, a proper meal, and a day or two to relax.

“Let’s get to the temple, and then we can rest.” Sandra didn’t need to ask directions - she could make out several temple spires in the city, and only one was painted with stripes of black and yellow.

They turned some heads as they walked. Quinn in his busty dress and hauling a massive crib obviously drew eyes first, but Hadrian’s latex costume and strut walk got more than its fair share of glances. It probably even helped hide the diaper poking out from above Sandra’s waistband, though she felt guilty at having her own embarrassment shielded by her friends’ humiliations.

By the time they made it to the temple, the sun was low on the horizon, casting the sky in a crimson red glow.

This Temple of Calistria didn’t resemble any church Sandra remembered visiting. It was church-ish in the exterior, but the interior resembled… something else.

There was a central stage for sacred leaders to do their work, but it was long and narrow, extending from the back of the temple to the front, with many branches coming off it. The intent seemed to be that clergy could walk out amongst those coming for a service, without being on the floor and mingling with them. Each branch was surrounded by chairs and small tables, and trays for offerings were set out so that anyone who wished could contribute and support the temple.

Oh, and there were stripper poles set up, with half-naked dancers performing on each one. All had a rapt audience, leaving coins in the offering trays in exchange for special attention from the performers.

It was… mesmerizing. Sandra had to stop and stare at first when she walked in, until Quinn grunted in protest.

“This isn’t feathers that I’m carrying,” he commented.

“Right,” Sandra said, walking in and looking around for a member of the clergy who wasn’t occupied. The closest she saw was a stocky, limber gnome in the corner, whose bit of the stage wasn’t being visited by any of the patrons.

“This way,” she said, shuffling towards the open seating.

The Gnome, dressed only in strips of carefully folded silk, was built from well toned muscle, and had evidently exercised in particular to tone her butt and build up her chest. She was stacked, her body deliberately sculpted so that it seemed that half her body weight could be found just in her ass, thighs, and breasts. It wasn’t Sandra’s thing, but Hadrian was sitting forward a little as Quinn set down the crib next to the wall and the whole party gathered around.

“How can I help you, dears,” the gnome asked, displaying remarkable flexibility as she raised one leg onto the pole. “Just come to flaunt your proclivities for the world to see?”

“You don’t need to dance,” Sandra said, quickly, absently tugging up on her trousers as though it could hide her diaper. “We’re just here to talk.”

“Not everything is about needs,” she pointed out. “Serendipity.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what you can call me,” Serendipity explained, spinning slowly around the pole. “The show is free, but if you want anything else, make a donation to the gods.”

Sandra frowned, digging in her pouch for a few coins and dropping them in the collection tray.

In response, Serendipity lifted herself up, spreading her legs wide. It was wildly impressive, and Hadrian sat forward even more, watching with clear interest.

“Hadrian,” Sandra snapped. “We’re here on business.”

“You’re here on business,” Hadrian shot back. “I’m along for the ride.”

Sandra glanced at the rest of her party. Quinn was nervously sitting in his chair, a little concerned that the delicate wood might break if he sank into it too much. Tarja was just blushing and staring at the ceiling. I guess it is just me. “We have someone who needs to be given to the church’s care. A member of the adventurer’s guild, who’s been subjected to some intense sexual torture and curses. We don’t have the means to undo what’s been done to him, and he can’t protect himself. He’s currently bound in a crib, unable to get out, and anyone who tries to free him is inflicted with curses as well.”

“Curses,” Serendipity said. “Is that your excuse for wearing your identities so openly?”

“They’re not our-” Sandra frowned. “Yes, we’ve all been cursed. Some of us worse than others.”

“Indeed,” Serendipity confirmed, glancing over the party. She seemed especially interested in the contrast between Hadrian and Tarja. “Some of you much worse than others. If your wizard wishes to come serve with us, I think his current attire would make him fit very well on stage.”

Directing the conversation back towards work, Sandra asked, “Can you help him?”

Looking Hadrian in the eyes, Serendipity said, “Maybe this evening, if he comes to my room and makes a large donat-”

“Can you help him,” Sandra interrupted, gesturing emphatically at the crib.

“Oh, yes.” The gnome was hanging upside down on the pole, held up with her legs, the strips of silk that covered her nipples seeming like they could fall off at any moment, but just barely hanging on. Sandra suspected magic, but found no trace on the gnome’s clothing that would keep the silk where it was supposed to be. “Leave him with us, we’ll see what we can do. The guild may be charged for the supplies we need.”

“Understood. He’s a brother, through and through,” Sandra said. If a guild master gave her shit for making the commitment without consulting them, she’d deal with it. “We’ve also got some other information, information that the church needs to be aware of.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, an expression that looked strange as she spun gracefully around the metal pole. “I think we can decide what we need, but if it’s necessary I’ll pass it along.”

“We know what the Wizard of Paraphilia is planning,” Sandra said. “We fought him, we got away with it, and we know what’s going to happen next.”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Serendipity hesitated. It wasn’t a dramatic falter, she didn’t fall off the pole or completely lose character, but they had her attention. Spinning to a stop, she got to her feet. “Are you certain?”

“Hadrian,” Sandra said. “Stop drooling, and tell her what you told us.”

“No,” Serendipity said, quickly. “Not here. It’s not the time, nor the place, for these sorts of talks. Come back in the morning. Our high priest will be available then.”

“Where is he now?” Sandra asked. “It’s urgent.”

Serendipity frowned, “He’s… busy.”

As if on cue, an elf walked in from back stage, wearing nothing save for carefully arranged gemstones which had been adhered to his body, creating glimmering lines that ran along his tight, toned body, a pattern that aimed down towards his totally exposed-

“Um-” Sandra said, face feeling flush and hot. “We’ll return in the morning.”

“You’re welcome to stay awhile,” Serendipity proposed. “We’ve got rooms.”

“We do need lodging,” Quinn pointed out.”

“Not those sorts of rooms,” Tarja explained, quietly.

“Uh…” Quinn frowned. “Oh. OH.”

“Let’s go,” Sandra said, pushing to her feet. “There’s a guild inn somewhere in town, and we don’t have the gold to spare here anyways. Serendipity, do you need anything else from us?”

“Can the adventurer be fed and washed?”

“Fed, yes,” Sandra confirmed. “Washed… Well, some of his clothes seem to self clean occasionally, but that’s as much as we’ve figured out. Honestly, none of us are curse experts, and we had to be careful not to be bound ourselves.”

“Leave him here, then, and we’ll do what we can.” Eyeing Hadrian, Serendipity added, “I’ll watch for you to come back.”

Sandra rolled her eyes, grabbed Hadrian by his latex-covered arm, and led her party out of the ‘temple’. It was only a short walk to the inn alley, and from there Sandra just had to spot the guild symbol on one of the tavern signs and walk right in.

“A table,” Tarja said tiredly, as they walked in.

“A chair,” Hadrian piped in, bemoaning his aching feet.

“Some dinner,” Quinn added, rubbing his belly hungrily.

Sandra smiled. Her party could use a reward. “And a round of ale!”

Cheers, as they found a place to sit. Sandra went up to handle the orders and the payments, taking a spot near the end of the bar, so the protruding waistband of her diaper wouldn’t stick out too much.

“How can I help you, dear?” a busty barmaid said, leaning forward over the counter. She had to be in her late 40s, but she still had a solid body and she was happy to flaunt it.

Oh, to be that confident when I’m older. “I need a round of whatever you’ve got for supper, a round of ale, four rooms, and a chat with the local guildmaster,” Sandra said.

“We’ve got roast mutton, mead, two double rooms, and you’re speaking to her,” the matron replied.

Sandra blinked. Guildmasters were experienced warriors, but she didn’t get a dangerous vibe from this woman. That was… scarier than if she’d been rippling with muscle. Standing a little straighter, she said, “As long as there’s beds for four, we’ll make it work. I’ve got some reporting to do on questing activities.”

The guildmaster nodded. “Want me to take the tab out of your bounties, hun?”

Sandra shook her head. “No bounties. We recovered a captive guild member from a wizard who’d been keeping him captive, but he’s pretty bound up with curses so I put him in the care of the local Calistrian temple. I don’t think the rescue bounty for him was large, but put it towards any fees they accrue in his care. If it costs any extra, you settle that with me.”

Leaning back, the bar’s matron spoke under her breath. “D’arvit.”

Pausing, Sandra said, “I… don’t know that oath, but if it’s a problem-”

“No. Leon D’arvit,” she supplied. “He is- was, I suppose- a regular here. Mostly handled small quests. The kind that couldn’t pay, but helped out the locals. You found him?”

“I… don’t think I know his name,” Sandra said. “And it’d be hard to identify him, after everything that was done, but… maybe?”

“He’s got blue eyes, with flecks of grey,” the guildmaster supplied. “Even if he was scarred, or injured, you can’t mistake them.”

Sandra nodded her head a little, remembering what he looked like. “I think that’s him.”

“Your rooms are covered. Dinner, too.”

“I said to put the bounty towards-”

“This isn’t a bounty, it’s a thank you. D’arvit is a friend.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in an appreciative smile, but Sandra just moved on. “On that note, let me fill you in on what’s been going on with his captor.”

Ten minutes later, she was back at their table, carrying four frothing tankards of the bar’s finest mead. “Only two rooms, so we’ll have to share.”

“I’ll share with Tarja,” Quinn said, pausing to add, “If that’s alright with…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tarja confirmed.

“You and me together, then,” Hadrian said. “I guess the smell won’t bother each other as much.”

At the comment, Sandra sniffed, and turned pink. When did I- Oh. Wait. “That’s you?”

“This sucks,” Hadrian grimaced. “And I thought the pacifier was bad.”

Sandra had to nod in agreement. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh yeah? How long will that take?”

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

That got some chuckles, at least. By the time food arrived, delivered with an extra helping of potatoes on the side, Hadrian’s diaper had at least self-cleaned, and the mead made it easy to ignore any looks being cast their way.

They ate, they drank, they were merry.

Given the events of the past days, nobody had the energy to stay up into the wee hours, but they weren’t eager to go to bed, either. Sandra ultimately put her foot down after three rounds of mead, and then again, two more rounds later.

“We need sleep,” she said. “We’ve got appointments tomorrow, and we need to find some proper, paying work.”

That got groans, but compliant ones. The party shuffled upstairs to the available rooms, and Sandra paused, while they were upstairs. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe the alcohol, but she was feeling sentimental. As Quinn opened the door, but before they could all split up and sleep, she spoke.

“Before you turn in, there’s something I want to say.” She got three sets of eyes on her and cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Nobody was quite sure what she meant, and Tarja made the confusion explicit. “For?”

“For… you know. Following me,” Sandra said. “Trusting me. It’s my fault that we got into this mess, but I’m doing what I can to fix it, and… It wouldn’t have taken much effort to abandon me after that first encounter went wrong. You’re all talented fighters… Well, a talented barbarian, wizard, and ranger. You could have found other parties. But you stuck with me.”

She wiped at her eyes, which were wet for some reason. Okay, I’ve definitely had too much to drink. I’m getting sappy.

“Sandra,” Hadrian said. “You’ve saved all our lives, a few times over. There wouldn’t be enough of us to fill a shoebox if you hadn’t been there.”

“You know who wanted to take me as a level one ranger?” Tarja asked. “You say anyone would take us, but you did take us. And you made us into a good team.”

“I… thanks,” Sandra said. “Thank you. Get some sleep, and let’s pretend I wasn’t all sappy once we’re sober?”

Quinn smiled. “Based on what we’ve gone through, it’s fair to say that no matter what happens, what the Wizard pulls next, I know we can count on you. Good night, Sandra!”

She smiled proudly as they went into their room, leaving her and Hadrian to retire to their own space.

“You mind if I do some research for a while before I sleep?” Hadrian asked, lighting a candle almost immediately once they were inside.

“Not at all,” Sandra said. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

“Oh?” Hadrian paused. “You know, I never asked about this, but I thought elves didn’t sleep.”

Sandra shrugged. “Some of us do.”

“Well, I’ll try to be quiet, anyways.”

Sandra nodded, pulling off her shoes and setting aside her various weapons and gear before climbing into bed.

It had been a long day, and she enjoyed an equally long, deserved sleep.

…

Sandra awoke a little after dawn, but she didn’t get out of bed right away. She stayed under the covers, relaxing with her eyes closed, until her diaper self-cleaned and she couldn’t make any more excuses not to get up.

Crawling out of bed, she stretched and yawned. Hadrian was snoring away, his latex bodysuit squeaking slightly as he tossed and turned, and she let him rest. They didn’t have anywhere urgently to be. If he wasn’t awake in an hour, she’d start to rouse him, but for now there were no worries.

Pulling on her boots, belt, and her less overt gear, Sandra decided to go check and see if the others were awake yet. Stepping softly, so her footfalls wouldn’t wake Hadrian, she crept out of their room and tiptoed to Quinn and Tarja’s room, raising her hand to knock quietly…

“... improvement?” Quinn was asking something.

Sandra trusted her party with ler life, but she was still naturally curious. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened.

“I think it’s worse. I don’t know.” Tarja sounded… not scared, but definitely uncomfortable with something. “My balance is worse. It’s… it’s getting hard to stand.”

“We should tell Sandra.”

“You heard her last night. She’s already so hard on herself, and that’s without knowing about my personal troubles. Why should we put more weight on her shoulders?”

“Because you need help.”

“Not yet. Maybe there’s a workaround. We don’t know what the stars do.”

Swallowing, Sandra took a few steps back, quietly opened the door to her room, and then slammed it shut.

Stomping loudly, she walked over to Quinn and Tarja’s room, before banging a hand a couple times on the door. “Quinn! Tarja! Are you awake?”

If they didn’t want to talk to her, she wouldn’t force it.

Quinn responded a second later, yawning loudly. “Just… waking up!”

He was a bad actor, and the yawn sounded fake. Or maybe I’ve just got an advantage on knowing that he’s lying, Sandra thought. “I’m going to go get some breakfast. Do you want me to bring you something, or will you come down?”

A couple seconds passed. Tarja finally called back, “We’ll be down.”

“Alright,” Sandra said.

She was sorely tempted to continue eavesdropping, but they deserved their privacy. If Tarja didn’t want to explain what was happening to her, and it wasn’t hurting the rest of the party, Sandra wouldn’t push.

For now.

Half jogging down the steps, Sandra found what was being served for breakfast - smoked fish by the pound and bread by the loaf, apparently - and got enough to feed five average hungry people, or three hungry people and one hungry Quinn.

Waiting at the counter, her ears perked up.

“... isn’t that the elf who says she got beat by the Wizard of-”

“Yeah, I can see her diaper.”

“But I heard she was with some other-”

Sandra glanced around, trying to identify who it was that had started whispering about her.

She didn’t notice anyone straight away. A few people seemed to hurriedly make it obvious that they weren’t paying attention to her, though, which was a dead giveaway.

Except… not all who looked away were at the same table.

Sandra raised an eyebrow. The adventurers guild wasn’t a rumor mill. People shared stories, sure, but ‘sharing stories’ didn’t mean ‘hearing news from different cities and spreading it around’ unless it was something particularly legendary, like a mighty hero slaying a dragon, or at least something comparably newsworthy.

Her party was good at what they did, but they were small time. The guild grapevine wouldn’t be sharing that much stuff about her.

It couldn’t just be bar chatter, either, because the crowd wasn’t uniformly the same with who had been there the night before, and they hadn’t really talked about the Wizard. She’d mentioned a wizard, but not the wizard, and that was a pretty huge distinction.

So how…

It took her a second to realize her blind spot. The guild wasn’t a rumor mill, but she hadn’t just stopped at a guild bar. First, she’d stopped at the temple of Calistria. That was a rumor mill.

“Damn,” she muttered to herself, keeping her head low and tugging down at the waist of her shirt while she waited for the others to join her.

When Quinn and Tarja inevitably did join her, she just offered a whispered warning. “Some of our… misadventures might be public knowledge around here,” she explained in a low tone. “Sorry.”

“Bound to happen,” Tarja replied, wobbling a little as she got up on her stool.

Am I imagining that? Sandra thought. Or is she actually having trouble? Was she like this yesterday and I was just too distracted to notice?

“How are you both holding up?” she asked, as they spread jam onto the bread and ate. It was a simple meal, but a satisfying one.

“Hungover,” Quinn said, gesturing down to his chest. “And I’m not still used to sleeping on my back, but fine besides that. I haven’t really been hit hard.”

“Okay,” Sandra said, looking to their ranger. “How about you?”

“Oh, well,” Tarja shrugged. “It’s… I am adjusting. It... doesn’t really alter how I can fight.”

All right then, Sandra thought. Keep your secrets.

It bothered her, but pushing the issue did no good. She finished up her meal, wrapped up food for Hadrian in waxed paper, and dismissed herself. “If you have anything to pack up, I’d do that now. Be ready to go in half an hour?”

They all agreed, and Sandra went to get Hadrian. He was in the middle of meditating and preparing his spells, so she let him be, going about her own morning preparations. While he got finished up, she mapped out her plan for the day in her head.

Go to the temple, explain what they knew about the Wizard, and then… check in with the guildmaster for quests.

Not much of a plan, but it was better than nothing.

The party saddled up, eventually. Sandra didn’t light a fire under anyone’s backside, letting everyone take their time and dilly dally, though eventually - even conceding that speed wasn’t important - she started to get antsy and rushed everyone out the door.

The morning market stands were reaching the end of their busy period as the party walked up the street. All the best, freshest fruits and vegetables had been picked over, and soon they’d all be either packing up and going home, or resupplying for the late afternoon customers.

The temple, by contrast, looked like a bawdy townhouse the night after a party. Priests were mopping up where vomit or booze had been spilled, and there were more than a couple hungover… ‘worshipers’... who were sleeping it off in the corners, where light couldn’t get to them.

Sandra didn’t need to look around for the high priest. Though he was now wearing clothing; a formfitting yellow-black leather something that highlighted his supple, toned form, somehow drawing the eyes up to his face, his hair that indicated he took care of himself without being fussy, the way he moved so gracefully even when…

Shaking her head, Sandra blinked a few times, fighting off the feelings of warmth between her legs that had nothing to do with the state of her diaper. Fucking hell, I haven’t-

She shook her head again. What was I thinking about?

“I’m going to go talk to the priest,” she announced, as much to remind herself of her objective as to inform her party. “Hadrian, I need you with me to explain the magic. Tarja and Quinn, you’re welcome to hang back… maybe speak to another priest, if you wanted to. For any reason.”

It wasn’t her best moment of subtlety, and she spotted the glance that the two of them shared, but nobody commented on it.

“Uh, I might ask about how D’arvit is doing,” Quinn said, shrugging.

While the two of them walked off… Okay, is Tarja stumbling or am I imagining that?... Sandra walked up to the high priest, bowing slightly.

“We don’t bow, here,” the priest said, immediately.

“Oh,” Sandra said, feeling sheepish and even a little shy. Dammit, I’m not a schoolgirl. He’s just a priest. “Apologies, I forget that some temples don’t hold to the same sorts of overt rituals and displays. Greeting aside, I’m Sandra, and this is Hadrian.”

“You mistake, rogue,” the high priest said, his eyes dancing with mirth as he stepped forward. “We hold to customs, ours are simply more appropriate to the goddess we serve.”

He reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of Sandra’s head as he pulled her into a deep, sensuous kiss. The sort of kiss that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after separation by war, or from the passion of newlyweds. He drank her in and gave as much of himself, and Sandra couldn’t help but sink into the surprising embrace.

Separating, he whispered in a sultry tone, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sandra. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria.”

She spluttered for a moment, reeling from the passion, and Gwyndomere pulled back from her and stepped up to Hadrian.

The two men kissed, leather sliding against latex as their bodies met, and the priest shared his lips with Hadrian, showing the sort of intensity that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after-

I think he’s just a good kisser, Sandra considered, though a part of her still wanted to believe that the passion was all for her.

It was Hadrian’s turn to splutter and blush as they pulled apart, blinking a few times as he caught his breath and the priest spoke in a sultry whisper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria. I hear you had an encounter with the Wizard.”

“He had an encounter with us,” Sandra said. “We won.”

“Did you, now?” the priest asked. “And the diapers are for fun, then?”

Coming from him, the jibe didn’t hurt like it would coming from a peer, but it did make her feel abashed. “I didn’t say we made it out unscathed, but we got away with his notes, we rescued a peer, and we forced him to agree to stand down and give us space. Hadrian can tell you more about what he’s planning.”

Gwyndomere looked to Hadrian, raising an eyebrow.

“A school,” Hadrian said simply, his cheeks still a little pink after the kiss.

That was all it took. Gwyndomere got it, without further explanation. “You should show me those notes.”

Hadrian nodded. “They’re in my bag. Is there somewhere we can go over them in private?”

“We can go to my rectory,” the high priest confirmed. “Sandra, I believe that Janet had some business she needed to talk to you about.”

“Janet?” Sandra frowned.

“Eh, that is, Serendipity,” Gwyndomere corrected. “She goes by Janet when she’s not on the stage.”

“Right. Janet. Where is she?”

Gwyndomere pointed to where a couple hungover worshippers were being attended to by a stocky priestess. Nodding, Sandra walked over, got Janet’s attention, and said, “I heard you had a business question. Is something wrong with the adventurer?” Pausing, she added, “His name is Leon D’arvit, by the way. I found that out last night.”

“He’s stable,” Janet replied, straightening and stretching. She looked tired, like she hadn’t yet actually gone to bed since the night before. “Fussy, kept me up, but stable.”

“Then what is it?”

“We can fix him,” Janet said. “It won’t be easy, and it’ll take months of ongoing work, but we can fix him. But to do that, I’m going to need some supplies.”