Law of the Diaper -- Episode 2

[RawrJames]

Law of the Diaper
- Episode 2 -
Part 1
 

Meliora

Lady Meliora Van De Natte sighed heavily as she relieved herself, urine spiralling down her leg
and onto the clay-tiled floor of the hall. She sat at a long table, with many other guests in
attendance, including her distant cousin, the King, himself. The floor was sloped in a way that
allowed people’s pee to flow into the middle, where they were promptly drained away. Despite
this, the floor was still wet, and reflected the gold trim of the high-beamed roof. The chamber
was grand, regal, and -- to Meliora at least -- a little over-pompous. And to consider, she thought,
that those babies in the north believe us to be barbaric. Meliora didn’t much like the haughty
nature of the court, but barbarity? Ha! She scoffed at the very thought of it.
The King was in the middle of another one of his showy-speeches, “...for many a year
now. To think! Back then we were but insects on the world stage…” and Meliora was getting
tired of it. As much as she detested these things however, they were necessary to keep the king
satisfied, especially as she needed to talk to him with great urgency. But, the King was in the
middle of making himself look good, so she decided to concentrate on her food, it was the only
good thing about these feasts anyway.
Sitting cosily on her silver platter, was a selection of smoked vegetables, steaming roast
potatoes, and slices of Stalle, fried to perfection. Many years ago, so the holy texts said, when
humans and non-humans were at war over food, the god Liefyr gifted the peoples of the world
the plant Stalle, so they would cease eating eachother. Apparently it had worked, because sat
around the table with her, where many a non-human. Not that anyone had ever put much thought
into it. The days where tension grew high between species was long gone, relegated to the
history books of old. At least here in the south. Court and country were a civilised place now,
happy and harmonious. Well, country was, court perhaps not so much.
Despite the relative peace in the presence of the king, tensions between individuals still
ran high, especially behind his back. Opposite Meliora was Lord Aert Van Grizmanen, a wolf
with a particularly sly canine-gaze. Like Meliora, he sat stoically, determined not to give
anything away to his political enemies. Enemies like Meliora. Just look at him, she thought with
a juvenile air of competitiveness, thinking he can beat me at my own game. She broke her
stoicism, and her meal, for a brief glare at Aert, but before the wolf could return it, the King
concluded his speech. “Thank you! Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience.” the King
waved magnanimously. He was kind, and often cared for the people of Plassenar, but
unfortunately that came at the cost of any real power. Even now, one Kanniss Blomscheet, a
wealthy sugar-merchant who’d been invited, was whispering in the king’s ear. No one spoke to
Meliora during dinner however, and she to no one else. Her neighbor, Lady Halene Goudenel,
was chatting idly to the man next to her, a lord which Meliora didn’t know. Meliora continued
eating, ignoring the two chattering, but halfway through their conversation, Lady Halene lifted
her furry rear upwards slightly, and farted noisily.
“Ahhhh,” she sighed, “I shall have to go to the mess-hall after this!” Halene waved her
hand in front of her nose, looking around. Meliora hoped that the woman wouldn’t notice her,
but alas, it was not to be. “Lady Van De Natte! I didn’t see you there!” she said, her talking
companion going pale upon seeing who Halene was attempting to talk to. Halfway through a bite
of food, Meliora made an attempt at saying ‘hello.’ It came out as more of a stuffed mumble.
“Hello to you too! Wonderfully diverse platter today, wouldn’t you say?” Halene continued,
determined to push through the awkwardness. She twirled her hair around one of her antlers
aimlessly, waiting for a response. Meliora eventually gave in, swallowing her food indelicately.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Unfortunately, it seemed that Halene took that as cause to persevere,
because just as Meliora was about to resume her meal, the woman conversed again.
“I take it you wish to see His Majesty after we have concluded.” It was a statement, not a
question. For some reason Meliora felt a child crawl through her. Suddenly she was on edge, and
she felt another trickle of warm urine down her bare leg. No one spoke to Meliora during dinner.
No one. Did she want something? Meliora realised that she had been quiet too long.
“Yes, my Lady. I do. Is there something you wish to ask?”
“Oh, no. Actually, I was hoping to speak to you afterwards. However, I understand that
you’re busy.” Halene said. Meliora wasn’t sure how to respond. She rarely spoke to Lady
Goudenel, her being on the High Council for only a few months. Meliora hadn’t gotten a good
read on the woman yet, she was still somewhat of an enigma, and that scared her. It was a
strange feeling -- Meliora couldn’t remember the last time she had been scared. Should she
accept? This would be a good opportunity to understand the woman a little better. Maybe
Meliora would gain some information on one of the other council members. It was a tempting
prospect.
“Unfortunately not tonight,” Meliora said eventually, “but --”
“It isn’t at all urgent,” interrupted Halene, waving her arm toward the table. “When are
you next available?”
“It may not be for some time. If all goes well I aim to be out of the country for a week or
two.”
“Well, that just happens to be the subject I wished to bring up.” Halene asked with the
dimmest flicker of a smile. Despite herself, Meliora smiled back.
“I should have room for tomorrow afternoon, if that will suffice.”
“Wonderful!” the woman said with an excited nod, complimented with a wide grin, “I
look forward too--” Ffffttttt. The odorus noise spilled out from her seat. “Oh dear. This food
really has got the better of me. I do hope this all finishes soon, or I may have to relieve myself
here!” Halene giggled at her little joke, and returned to her dinner leaving Meliora to ponder
what she had gotten herself into.
By the time everyone had finished, the King was ready to retire. He bowed, waved his
hand, and excused guests, some of which tried to hound him. Meliora would have to get in quick.
Thankfully, some of the people going after His Majesty, were some of her own. Magist
Gaerdt and his young apprentice, a feline girl in her twenties, were trying to push past the guards.
Knowing that they’d never get past, they were instead preventing the King from leaving quickly
enough so that Meliora could catch a word. Fortunately, Meliora was very much respected by the
guards, and they let her pass with no small amount of reverence. She had to admit, she liked the
effect it had -- as if the oceans were parting for her. It made her feel strong and powerful.
“Your Majesty, if I could only-” Gaerdt croaked, before Meliora glided past.
“Your Majesty!” she said, bowing gracefully. She wouldn’t have much time to convince
him, only a sentence or two. This would have to be done carefully. “May I have a word? It is of
the utmost importance.” The King stopped in his tracks, lowering his head respectfully.
“Lady Meliora, I’m sure you have much to say, but can this wait? It is late and I-”
“Well …” Meliora countered, “I was going to ask about next week’s summit. I would
very much like to ask you some questions, run some ideas past you. After all, most of the men
here are on the wizened side of wise. You have a much more contemporary view of politics.”
Long ago, Meliora realised that to survive court politics, you had to be brutal. You had to
systematically hunt down your enemy’s weaknesses, and exploit them ruthlessly. The King liked
clever words, or at least words that sounded clever to him, and a little stroke of his ego wouldn’t
hurt either. Merchants were good at that, hence their power in his court. Luckily so was Meliora.
Clearly it had worked, because the King seemed to be considering her proposition.
“Oh, all right. But we shall have to talk in the mess-room, I’m getting rather desperate.”
The King finally conceded.
“Gaerdt,” said Meliora, turning to her Magist, “Please wait for me in my quarters, we
have much to discuss afterwards.”
“Yes, Lady.” he replied, and he and his apprentice bowed. “Come Narriss, we still have to
find that book.” and with that, the aging man hobbled away, the young feline apprentice helping.
Meliora and the King were escorted to the mess room, the King dribbling pee behind him
as he walked. Usually, due to the sterile nature of urine, one could relieve themselves wherever
they wished. Excrement, however, was not so sanitary. Peasants usually messed themselves as
they toiled, using it as fertiliser for their fields. Here in the city however, designated mess-halls,
or in the King’s case a private mess-room, was where people went number two.
The room was somewhat large, big enough for multiple people. At the far end were two
windows and a small balcony, bordered by the Plassen flags -- brown fabric, with white and
golden waves. The King often held meetings here, so there was seating, golden chairs with silk
cushions. The floor was the same clay tiles of the dining hall, each bearing the royal standard.
Meliora made a move towards a chair opposite the King, who upon entering immediately
pulled his pants down, starting to fidget. Meliora herself was wearing a dress, much preferred
when desperate. Watching as the King leant over his seat, pushing, Meliora thought of what she
was going to say, how she would approach this. It was important, and the King needed to
understand what was at stake here.
“Gggggrrrrrggg” he groaned, pushing out two long logs of poop. They snaked out of him,
and coiled around each other neatly onto the stained cushion below. What am I going to say?
What would convince a man to go to war? “Ahhhhhh …” sighed the King in relief, a few loose
farts escaping. He sat back down on top of his mess, pushing it into the cushions with an audible
squelch. Then, just as Meliora got an idea of how to approach the topic, he wriggled his bottom,
pushing the poop around. Prince or peasant, it didn’t matter -- squishing was one of the few
feelings that everyone enjoyed, Meliora included. A spike of envy even shot through her
momentarily, annoyed that she didn’t have to relieve herself, but she quickly regained focus.
“Right then, Lady Meliora. What do you want to know?”
“Well Your Majesty, first and foremost, do you have any ideas about approaching the
treaty?” she asked. The King looked slightly taken aback at that, and Meliora had to force her
face to keep straight.
“Whatever do you mean, Lady? I was under the impression that they had already agreed
to sign it?”
“Well yes, they did imply that.” Meliora said, steering the King into the position she
wanted. “But we know the North cannot be trusted with matters as serious as this. They are
frivolous and fickle, thinking only about their play and not their work. You don’t really expect
them to be that consistent do you?” Meliora didn’t really lie. It was cause for concern. These
northerners knew nothing of hard work and labor, many lived in luxury, playing all day.
“I had assumed--”
“With the utmost respect your Majesty, that is exactly it. You assumed.”
“You didn’t come here to ask me for help did you?” He looked like a child being told off.
Perhaps he was ashamed that he had been so naive. Meliora almost felt bad. But he needed to
know. He needed to understand. Meliora respected the man’s kindness too much to lie about
something like this.
“My King, if I may speak frankly?” she waited for him to nod his head, and then
continued, “I don’t believe any good can come of this summit. The people of Luin … they’re not
like us. They won’t sign this treaty, there’s too much that they gain from war.”
“What could they possibly gain from war?” the King asked, leaning forward.
“Weapons sales, unity through common enemy, certainty in a changing world.” Meliora
sighed, it was a harsh truth that war was so simple. Contracts, treaties, negotiations, why bother
when you could just engage in conflict?
There was a deep silence between the two. The King had his face in his hands, thinking.
Meliora had to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. Of course she was. The King only
wished his people had the same luxury that the Luiners had -- he could be a great King, truly
great, if tempered by the ruthlessness of his aides. Why was it so hard to watch this man accept
that war was inevitable. Was she as ruthless as she thought?
“Meliora,” the King said suddenly, raising his head from his hands, “I hear what you are
saying. I really do. You don’t trust Luin, and you want to strike before they have the chance to
lure us into a false sense of security.”
“Yes. Yes, Your Majesty, that is precisely it--” but before she could continue the King
interrupted.
“I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a prince, my father took me to the front line.
The regalia and glory of war was appealing to a child, and I went with glee. But when I arrived it
was nothing like I thought. The place stank of death, of decay. There were bodies lined up in the
streets of camp, sometimes in piles. It -- I still have nightmares. But I had never thought more
clearly than in that moment. I bent down to one of the bodies, and …” the King stopped. He
seemed distant, as if scared to go back there, to that place. Meliora hadn’t seen him like this
before. “... And I bent down to say my prayers to one of the fallen. It was a boy, Meliora. A boy
of twelve years old! I can’t remember what caused his death, only that his face was death itself.
His eyes were empty. His soul, gone. Imagine what was taken from the world. Imagine the
potential that boy might’ve had. All gone in an instant.”
He stopped for a moment, his eyes slowly coming back into the room. Meliora was
transfixed, “Lady Van De Natte, the other side may be very different from us, but I can guarantee
their children have died too. Lives on both sides have died for a war they didn’t start. If they
have a shred of humanity, and suspect they have more than a shred, then believe me when I say,
they want to end this war as much as you or I.” The King was looking at Meliora now, directly
into her soul. His deep, brown eyes yearning for peace, yearning for an end to this petty conflict.
The ripple of doubt in Meliora’s mind had transformed. Great waves of torment, battered by a
storm of guilt and shame, crashed and bellowed within her. They twisted her stomach, tugged
violently at her chest. Could she be ruthless? I have to be. She had to be ruthless for the good of
the realm.
There was a long, final pause before Meliora spoke.
She sighed heavily.
“What do you want me to do, Your Majesty?”

 

Narriss

Narriss hadn’t seen anything like it before. The port in which the ship was docking was packed
full of people. They brushed past each other, all heading to one place or another, like an ant
colony. Even the capital hadn’t been this busy, or if it ever had, Narriss had been busy working
with master Gaerdt. The gentle slosh of the ocean lapping against the boat, had been replaced by
shouting, chattering, and a loud constantly-ringing bell. But what shocked her the most was what
people were wearing. Some, like her, wore tunics and pants, robes and cloaks. But some wore
onesies, sucked pacifiers nonchalantly, and underneath it all were the unmistakable bulges of
diapers.
In spite of this, the air smelt familiar. Sea salt and urine mixed in the air across the harbor,
floating across the ocean beyond. Narriss’ closed her eyes. The wind blew gently through her fur,
her tail swayed gently behind her, and her ears relaxed by her sides. She inhaled deeply, taking in
the atmosphere of the place, and a strange peace came over her. A gentle, laminar peace.
“Narriss.” A sharp voice from behind her said. She turned quickly, seeing Master Gaerdt
standing there. “Come, we have business with Lady Meliora.” Narriss nodded, and followed her
teacher down into the ship’s cabins. They had been travelling here, to the Isle of Ieder, for three
days now, and she was getting sick of being bunged up in a tiny cabin with Master Gaerdt. She
had complained out loud initially, which had been a mistake. “It gives you plenty of time to
focus on your studies instead of napping then.” Master Gaerdt had said, never glancing away
from his work. Though she swore she could hear a smile in his voice.
Lady Meliora’s chambers were nowhere near as cramped as everyone else’s. As they
entered, Narriss saw the familiar sloped floor, with a tile pattern running from under Meliora’s
desk. It was glistening wet. The tile pattern continued past the centre of the room and rose again
like the edge of a bowl, stopping under a plush-fabric seat. Lady Meliora herself sat at an ornate
desk, silhouetted a little by grand windows behind her. Why don’t we have any windows like
that? Narriss asked herself as she stood behind her teacher. Meliora scribbled something on a
piece of fresh paper, before glancing up to Narriss and Master Gaerdt. She gestured for them
both to sit.
“Master Gaerdt,” she said, nodding to Narriss’ left, “Apprentice Narriss,” she nodded to
Narriss, “Thank you for attending me here.” That was odd. Meliora barely seemed to notice
Narriss normally, let alone speak to her. This was all strange. Something was about to happen,
Lady Melliora wanted something from Narriss, but what could she possibly offer? She was just
an assistant, an apprentice. A flash of dread struck through her. The Lady looked uncomfortable
sitting at her desk, almost fidgety. She was never normally like this at all. What was going on?
Meliora cleared her throat before continuing where she left off. “As you are both aware,
we have a very important mission here on Iedar. To go over our aim again, Master Gaerdt, we
want to establish relations to aid the signing of the North-South Disarmament Treaty, as
requested by …. nnng … the King.” Meliora looked wholly uncomfortable after she said that,
jostling in her seat. It was well known to the servants of Meliora, Narriss included, that the
woman thought the war was still a necessary fight. Narriss had to agree. Unlike here in the south,
Luin and the Dullen Isles (especially the former) were hostile to her kind. Plassenar was fighting
for freedom -- freedom to relieve yourself where you wanted without punishment, freedom to be
chaotic, and freedom to be different. If that meant tearing down their broken culture to achieve
this freedom, so be it.
“Now that all the official stuff is out the way,” Meliora continued, “I need to ask you two
a favor. This stays absolutely confidential, do you understand?” she looked directly at Narriss as
she said it, and without hesitating, Narriss nodded back. She wasn’t sure she liked the Lady, but
the woman’s cause was just. “I cannot … nnn … I cannot believe I’m about to say this --”
Lady Meliora went quiet suddenly, and began to wriggle more noticeably. She slid her
rear across the velvet cushion of her seat. Narriss looked to Master Gaerdt, who only blinked in
surprise. Meliora put a hand between her legs, and suddenly Narriss realised what was
happening. As if she needed any more confirmation, Meliora quickly gave up, and took her hand
away, said “Oh, blast!” rather more audibly than Narriss suspected the lady intended, and leant
back in her chair. Less than a second later, she sighed as urine gushed out from under the table,
hissing through Lady Meliora’s dress. Even from the other side of the table, Narriss could see a
dark patch spreading on her clothes, as familiar as the blue sky. “Mmmmmmmaahhhh!”
Meliora’s shoulders lowered and despite her usually reserved demeanor, a tiny smile flickered
onto her face as she peed. She quickly finished and, evidently self conscious all of a sudden,
straightened her dress before plastering on a calmer expression that contrasted oddly with her
now scarlet cheeks. Silence punctured the room, and Narriss couldn’t help but look to master
Gaerdt. However, he patently ignored her, focused on the Lady.
“My Lady! Were you … were you holding that in!?” he said, visibly shocked at what
he’d just witnessed. As if in defiance of what had happened, Narriss’ master let his own water
escape, flooding his robe. Small rivers of urine, from both Meliora and Gaerdt, flowed into the
centre of the room and were swallowed by the drain leading to the wooden cistern below.
Meliora grew softly stern, straightening in her seat.
“Not a word to anyone else on this ship at what you just witnessed, is that understood?”
As shocked as she was, Narriss was the first to nod. She was used to taking orders, from Meliora,
from Gaerdt, from any of her many superiors. But somehow Meliora didn’t feel so high and
mighty anymore. Something about what had just happened made the woman less imposing, less
regal. It was like a cloud had blotted the sun. Everything was still in the same place, but a certain
luster had vanished. Narriss noticed Meliora looking at her, and she snapped her face back to
impassiveness. Did the Lady notice?
Eventually, Gaerdt followed with his nod of submission to the Lady, but Meliora just
sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry you two had to see that.” she said somewhat sullenly, “These people,
the summit, they expect certain behaviors from us, just as we do them. The deal was that they
would be prohibited from going over-the-top with their regalia just as we do ours, to avoid
offence. Part of that is … we are to relieve ourselves away from their notice during the meetings.
I was practicing, here, now, and clearly I could not handle it.”
“What restrictions have been placed upon them, my Lady?” Gaerdt looked to Narriss,
appalled that his apprentice was talking without permission, but she couldn’t help herself. All
this had gotten her riled up. Why should Plassenar have to bend to the will of another nation, just
to sign some stupid treaty? Why should Plassenar suffer? However, Lady Meliora didn’t seem to
mind. “That is a good question, Apprentice. In exchange for us being subtle about our culture
they have agreed to hold back on their pompous clothes, and ... let ambassadors from different
species into the meeting.”
Narriss’ head boiled with indignation. Under the table, away from the view of the Lady,
she clenched her fists, hard. Her hairs pricked up in defense, and she felt her face grow taught,
struggling not to grind her teeth. Meliora was going through all this trouble to appease these
people, when they should just treat everyone as equals. More and more, Narriss was growing
angry at this whole twisted situation. The king, our king, wants to make peace with them?
Meliora seemed to sense her utter frustration at the situation, and leaned forward. “I
understand that this is hard Narriss --”
“I’m sorry but you don’t understand at all.” Narriss snapped, half thinking. Gaerdt’s
bemused face melted into anger at his apprentices’ impulsivness. But Narriss didn’t care. She
was angry, and had the right to be so. However, Master Gaerdt had been teaching her to control
that anger, focus it. “Apologies, my Lady, I shouldn’t have said that.” Narriss expected Meliora
to be annoyed just as her master was, but the woman was strangely resigned about the whole
thing.
“No, it’s fine,” Meliora said, waving it away, “You are right. I don’t understand. This is
why I have chosen you for the task. I know I can trust you, you’ve been with master Gaerdt here
as long as any of my other staff, and your rank means you are in a prime position to understand
both court and country in a way my friends simply cannot. But, more than all that, you are one of
the people that Luin is trying to restrict. Your eyes, in that regard, see differently to mine. I grew
up in a castle, in a place of privilege and luxury. I need to see what you see if I am to win this
meeting.”
“I’m sorry my Lady,” Gaerdt said, “Win?”
“Quite, magister Gaerdt. No one wants peace, so even a small concession towards that
aim will be a victory. But we need to focus. We need to practice. We need to keep calm.” Meliora
said with the slightest hint of flourish in her voice. She was right. This was all too important to
let anger take it all away. That’s what they wanted. Narriss breathed in deeply, centering herself.
The anger within her, that raging storm, spiralled in her chest. Slowly, carefully, she pushed
upwards into her head. She drew power from it, cunning, and perception. Eventually, it was no
longer anger, but a vague pool of energy. Narriss felt as if she could draw from it, take whatever
she needed. Her stomach cramped slightly as she contemplated it, feeling something brewing
within.
But before she could put much thought into that, Meliora spoke up a final time. “What I
need from you Narriss, desperately, is reconnaissance. I need as much information as I can get --
ideally what the very heart of their culture is. What I need is to see where they eat, change, and
what they do when they’re not at these meetings. But even then I fear that I am still not prepared.
I’ll be honest, I wish I could send Gaerdt but ... ” Lady Meliora looked down at the wet patch on
her clothes. For the first time, Narriss saw fear on her mistress’ face. “This little demonstration
shows our weakness. We need to hide it. We need to be discreet. Gods forbid it should come to
this, but what I need is a diaper.”

 

Narriss

Waygar, the capital of Iedar, smelt of crap. Literal crap. This was a very strange place, chaotic
and bewildering, far more so than even the capital city. Because it was a sort of neutral zone
between Luin and Plassenar, both peoples went about their own rituals without regard for the
other. Some, few, relieved themselves in the street, where they stood, not bothering to consider
those around them. Just like home, Narris thought. But others wore gaudy clothes, onesies with
bright patterns on them, frilly dresses, and sucked on pacifiers. They kept their business, and
smells, hidden in the seat of their pants. Even here, closest to the Plassen crossing, these were in
the vast majority.
A group of Littles were huddled together just down the street ahead, one leaning against a
stone wall. They were whispering conspiratorially to each other, one glancing over their
shoulder. Narriss didn’t get a good look at their expression whilst she hurried past however. As
she approached, a tall woman in normal clothes burst out of the wooden door next to them and
ushered the group of littles indoors. Although she looked almost normal in that long green dress,
Narriss could see the obvious bulge of a diaper underneath. The woman spun around to close the
door, and a flicker of fear shadowed her face momentarily, before she fled inside. Narriss bowed
her head to the ground, feeling her face boil, and her stomach growl. How was she supposed to
actually find out about their culture if they did this?
After wandering about for an hour or so, Narriss didn’t have much luck finding anyone
who wanted to converse. It was difficult identifying any Plassener’s to talk to here. Besides being
so very few of them, any she managed to approach seemed to scarper away, warily. She’d even
tried going up to the guards, but they’d just growled and skulked away as well. This was all
taking too long, the meeting was only in a couple of hours and she still had no information. ‘Plan
B’ was the merchants. Not quite the everyday person that Narriss was hoping to find, but maybe
it would work. Surely they wouldn’t pass down a customer? At the very least she could find
somewhere to acquire a diaper. She’d been putting it off, though she didn’t quite know why. All
this was so odd--the way the Luiners just waddled brazenly about in their baby-clothes, locked
away under layers of padding.
After a brief wander through the mud-laden alleys of the town, Narriss managed to find a
small market selling a vast collection of things. One was selling books from an open-air stall
nearby. Maybe he would be able to help. He was talking with someone else, a large woman with
somewhat shaggy hair. She didn’t look much like a Little, so Narriss assumed she was a Big, the
people who cared for the freaks that dressed up.
As Narriss approached the stall, the woman glanced behind. Her conversation with the
shopkeep died down to hushed whispers and, reflexifley, Narriss’ ears pricked up. Naturally, they
were much stronger than human ears, and picked up the conversation without much hassle. “I
hear they’re planning on invading, by migrating into Luin!” the woman said. The man simply
nodded solemnly as if it was a sad truth to be accepted, like death or paying taxes. The man’s
face scrunched up and he grunted quietly. At first Narriss assumed it was the topic of
conversation that had caused such a reaction. But then she remembered the diapers.
“Yeah, as if we don’t let them close enough already. That new deal’s supposed to make it
easier for them to get in, y'know. I --” the man cut off as he caught Narriss’ eye.
“No no, please keep talking!” Narriss said loudly. The large woman startled and clasped
her chest with her hand. Narriss realised her face had gone tense. She tried to relax and calm
herself but…
“Speak demon and it shall appear.” the shopkeep said, glaring toward Narriss with the
sadistically sly grin usually only seen in Wolf-kin. Then again, what did she expect from the
people who invaded her home?
“Demon?! Where?!” Narriss said, bathing in exaggerated, mock fear. This man would not
get the best of her. He would give her all the information she needed, or at least point her in the
right direction to find it.
The woman glanced down at Narriss’ waist, made a disgusted face, and nodded goodbye
to the shopkeep. Perhaps she’d noticed Narriss’ tail, or worse, her lack of diaper-bulge. Either
way, she and the shopkeep were now alone.
“It’s considered rude ‘round here to listen in on other people’s conversations y’know.” he
said, almost growling with tension. Yet they consider us animals!? Narriss mused to herself. This
place was horrible. Backwards. “It’s also rude to refuse paying customers.” she said to the
shopkeep. Hopefully the promise of money would quell his anger somewhat. However, it seemed
that she’d underestimated this man’s discontent. “I don’t want your grubby hands anywhere near
me!” he said passionately, as if Plassener’s were known for being particularly dirty. Yet, they
weren’t the ones who carried their waste against their backsides. Narriss raised her spotless
hands in response. “My hands are clean as clouds,” she said, “And luckily for you I just need
information. So I won’t be parting with any of my money today, sir.” The man eyed her for a
moment. He seemed placated, if only slightly. “I don’t know ‘nuffin!” he said, crossing his arms.
“Just go someplace else!” Narriss was starting to get annoyed now. This man was being
deliberately stubborn, and for what?
Maybe it was time for a retreat. If she couldn’t get the information she needed, at least
she could get the diaper for Lady Meliora. “I just need to know where I can find a changing
station.” there was a brief moment of silence. The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly, clearly
surprised why he was asked such a question by the likes of … well, her. “Is that some kind of
joke? Why in the name of Liefyr does a shaggy like you want to know that?” he shook his head
in disbelief.
Narriss’ ears went hot. She hadn’t been called that word in a very long time. This slimy
son of a bitch was clearly too stuck in his little mud-hovel to say anything productive to her. She
was done here. Letting out a deep breath, Narriss turned and walked away. She’d find the
godsdamned place by herself. Behind, she heard the man chuckle quietly. Willing herself not to
turn and punch him, Narriss focused on her mission. However, the shopkeep made the mistake of
thinking he had gained something in that little argument, and shouted across the market.
“Yeah! Go back to your shithole in Plassen you hairy bitch!” That does it.
Narriss felt a storm surge inside of her, and a sudden cramp in her gut.
If the bastard wanted to be closed minded, so be it. He deserved everything he was about
to get. She walked back toward the merchant, who went suddenly pale. Clearly he was expecting
her to walk away. Maybe she should have. Oh well, Narriss thought, hopefully he’ll remember
this. “Fine. You win.” Narriss said calmly, which only served to unease the man further. “If you
won’t take a moment out of your day to help me find somewhere, then I guess I have no choice
but to do my business here.” and she hiked up her dress. The man looked horrified, and stepped
back into the recesses of his book-stall-cave. Narriss simply smiled, and bent over the wooden
counter of the stall, so her bare rear was nearly touching the wooden countertop. Her tail swished
behind her, brushing against the cool air.
Then, grunting a little, she began to push, slowly releasing pressure in her bowel. To her
slight embarrassment, she farted a few times, but that was nothing compared to what was
coming. As she pushed, she felt a rather large ball of poop force it’s way out of her, sliding
through, pinching off, and then slapping down onto the counter. She let out a few more farts,
feeling much better now that her gut was empty. Her mess balled beneath her, forming a rather
satisfying warm, and stinking, pile. Narriss looked to the merchant again, grinning slyly. His face
had gone red, and he looked as if he was leaning against the wall for support.
Narriss glanced about quickly, and noticed that there was a small crowd watching the
incident. Although most Little onlookers looked horrified, a small group to the left sniggered at
the merchant. A huddle of Plasseners also gathered nearby, smirking to themselves. “Thank you
very much for your help,” Narriss said as innocently as she could muster, “I was beginning to get
a little desperate.” and as a final act of spite, she pulled her dress down, and fell back to sit in her
mess. It squashed beneath her, moulding to the shape of her rear. She wriggled about for a
moment, before pulling herself up with a very visible brown stain on the seat of her dress. After
all, why shouldn’t she wear it proudly?
She made her way into the crowd, toward some of the watching Plasseners. They grinned
knowingly at her as she approached. Finally, people who seemed willing to talk. She’d finally
find out what was up with this place, which would be a solid start. How she was going to find
diapers for Lady Meliora from these Plassen folk she did not know, but one step at a time. There
was a chance the Lady wouldn’t even need a diaper if she managed to get the right information.
As she approached the Plasseners, their smiles faded however. Narriss noticed they were looking
at something behind her. A cold human hand suddenly gripped her left arm tightly, pressing
against the fur. “Miss,” a woman’s voice, hard and harsh, said from behind, “Please, come with
us.”
Narriss tried to turn without jerking her arm too much. The woman was a guard, wearing
the white-red colours of Iedar, but Narriss could tell she was a little. The guard’s hair was tied in
pig-tails, and she could swear the woman had a diaper-bulge. “No! You don’t understand! I have
important business here, under the command of Lady Meliora Van De Natte, of Plassenar!” and
she tugged her arm away, but the guard who was holding her back simply grappled the other one.
“I’m sure you are Miss, but we can’t just let people go poo poo on private property!” Narriss
went quiet. Maybe she should have thought this through more. Damn! “Okay, okay, I’ll go with
you. Let’s just make this quick.”
“You’re not going to run if I let you go?” the guard said, and Narriss felt her tail droop
instinctively. She wasn’t sure she could if she tried. “There are guards everywhere,” Narriss said,
“I doubt I would get very far.” This seemed to placate the guard and she let go. Two more joined
her and the whole retinue marched Narriss away.
About two hours later, judging by the church bells, Narriss sat in her small cell, alone. The
guards had brought her back to a modest gaol on the outskirts of Waygar. Almost immediately
upon arrival, the guards had insisted on diapering her. Her hairs pricked up harshly even thinking
about it. Despite how wrong it felt to have this bulky padding around her waist, she’d gone along
with it in the interest of saving as much time as possible. It wasn’t all that embarrassing really,
not after having dropped a mess in public. But it just felt so strange. How did people defecate in
this? She felt a nervous twitch in her bladder at the thought. Afterwards, Narriss was able to
present the guards with a royal seal that Meliora had given her, and someone, a while ago now,
had gone to fetch anyone who could get her out of here.
So, Narriss sat in her cell, left leg bouncing up and down erratically, albeit hampered
slightly by the diaper now under her dress. The summit would start any moment, and she was
here! She tried not to dwell on that too much. What have I gotten myself into? She thought
glumly. What would the consequences be? Lady Meliora said that she had to behave with
courtesy--well what if she needed to relieve herself during the meeting? Would the negotiations
fall apart? Back in Plassenar, you’d just ... go. I suppose you’d do the same here, too. Just in a
diaper instead of on your seat. Something about that felt dishonest and wrong.
Pulling up her dress slightly, Narriss looked down at the diaper. She kind of needed to pee
again, though the thought of doing it in that thing was mortifying. It surrounded her waist
completely, locking away the freedom to go where you needed, trapping the mess next to you.
Again, the thought of using the thing made her slightly disgusted. Although, she had to admit, it
did feel quite nice when dry. Like a pillow, almost. Hesitantly, more out of curiosity than
anything else, she poked the fluffy fabric. The diaper was so thick she could barely feel her
finger beneath the padding. She poked it again --
THUD.
The door to the gaol burst open, and a vaguely familiar woman stepped onto the
stone-tiled flooring--that woman Lady Meliora was talking to at the feast. Her antlers sparkled
gently with the fresh mist outside, and her nose twitched slightly. Her dress was almost as regal
as her strides towards Narriss’ cell. “Well, well, well,” she said, moving towards the iron bars
that held Narriss there. “We have gotten ourselves into a bit of a mess haven’t we?”
“My lady!” Narriss said quickly, curtseying. Halfway through her bow, she realised that
lifting her dress to curtsey would reveal her diaper. She felt her cheeks grow warm with blush as
she saw a wry smile on the lady’s face. “Delved into the local culture have we?”
“I-I-” Narriss couldn’t think of anything to say. To be caught like this! Embarrassment
flushed through her.
“It’s alright, young one.” the woman said, “I am Lady Halene Goudenel, I was sent by
Lady Van De Natte.” her smile shifted, wry became warm. Narriss felt her embarrassment
subside, albeit only slightly. “Guard!” she said loudly, and there was a clatter from the
back-room as a onesie-clad guard stumbled in. “Please let my friend here out of her cell. I shall
be taking her with me!”
“I’m afraid I’ll need to see some--” before the guard could talk, Lady Halene thrust a
piece of paper towards them--a writ of some sort. “Huet!” the guard shouted, and a second guard,
presumably called Huet, emerged from the back. Unlike the first, he was not dressed in a onesie,
rather somewhat normal clothing. He took the paper of the first guard, scanned it briefly and
nodded.
And just like that, Narriss was free.
“Hurry my dear,” Halene said as Huet guard unlocked the door. Finally, Narriss went
down to remove the cloth diaper from around her waist. Oddly, Halene stopped her. “No time,
we must be on our way. The summit has already begun.” a jolt of fear burst through Narriss like
lightning. She had let Meliora down. She’d let her country down. The two of them left the gaol.
“Is the Lady okay?” Narriss asked. She and Halene moved quickly through the market
outdoors, people from all directions rushing past. It was tricky walking with the thick padding
between Narriss’ legs, so she mostly waddled along as best as she could.
“She is fine Narriss. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner. She is glad to hear you are
okay, but wasn’t best pleased when she found out what happened.” Narriss went quiet. So much
for being discreet. Halene clearly noticed her contemplative silence. “It’s all right. She’s just a
little stressed at the moment. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Narriss could only nod.
“At least tell me,” Narriss eventually said, “Is the summit going well?”

 

Meliora

The summit had been going horribly. The representative of Luin hadn’t been budging on any of
his points and, as expected, his implied acceptance of the treaty had been less than concrete. His
sense of grandeur and power was seemingly only bolstered by the large pavilion under which
they all sat, each politician perched like vultures along a large stone table. They were all dressed
rather conservatively, not a single sign of the usual regalia that accompanied them-- bright
colours, pacifiers, that sort of stuff. Only the occasional rustle of a diaper indicated that they
were, in point of fact, from Luin. Surrounding Meliora were a team of Lords and experts from
Plassenar. In particular, her Aide–Lord Griet–sat to her left, and Lord Aert Van Grizmanen, a
wolf-lord, to her right. They were the pain with which she would colour her canvas.
Meliora had sent her Wizard’s apprentice, Narriss, away to gather information to use
against the Plasseners here, but she unfortunately had failed to make any sort of appearance.
Then, after finding out that the idiot girl had been imprisoned, Meliora was forced to send
Halene away to get her out, and even she had been taking her time. It had been over an hour now.
Dammit, why was Meliora always clearing up other people’s messes!
The talks had stalled since, but she forged ahead, at the behest of her king. She’d
resorted to placing valuable resources up for trade, and what’s worse, there was also another,
more personal, problem that was preventing her from concentrating fully on the remainder of this
damned meeting.
Meliora wiggled slightly in her seat, holding her pee in as best she could. That damned
girl hadn’t brought back a diaper either. She’d just about managed to relieve herself elsewhere,
along with her retinue during the brief recess they’d had, but hadn’t found the opportunity to go
since. Just as she suspected, this visible weakness had opened them up to political attack. You’ll
just have to hold it, she thought to herself, though rather more aggressively than she had meant
to. Although she suspected that this meeting would be over shortly.
“Lady Meliora!” The man opposite her–Lord Vauque De La Seule
Couche, the cousin of the Queen of Luin–said with immense exasperation, “Surely you cannot
be suggesting that we just remove our troops from Ile De Sommeil! You’d simply move troops in
to displace them!” The man was, at this particular summit at least, not the bane of Meliora’s
existence. That award belonged to the other Lords and Ladies gathered around the great stone
table. Despite Vauque’s relative willingness to negotiate, she was still having troubles however.
Unlike the other lords in Plassenar, she did not know the Luin people and their secrets.
She clenched her fists, and her thighs, under the table in an increasingly vain attempt at
keeping some semblance of composure. But before Meliora could respond, Lord Aert spoke–his
pointed ears perked up, “Lord Vauque. We have all seen far too much bloodshed in the past few
years to send troops into a foreign land where they will have no means of escape. No one wants a
war.” Yes! Meliora may have ‘locked horns’, so to speak, back in Plassenar, but here that sharp
mind could be put to good use. She knew bringing him was a good idea.
Meliora nodded, and continued, “Ile De Sommeil, much like this beautiful island here,”
and Meliora tore her hands away from holding herself to gesture to the landscape around them,
“Could flourish with trade between our two great nations. You have our word, my word, any
troops we do send will integrate into a mixed set of guards for the island with your own troops.
In return we ask only that your troops do the same, and we shall be open to trading in coal, iron
and gold from our prosperous mines down in Modemeer.”
This seemed to give Vauque pause for thought. There was a moment of quiet while he
stared past Meliora, interrupted only by the gentle grunts of another lord beside him, who was
obviously filling his diaper. Oh how she wished she could let herself go like that! As much as
Meliora tried to distract herself with thoughts of the meeting, the fresh earthen-stink that floated
through the air only served to remind her of her own relief, or lack thereof. She pressed both of
her hands into her lap as subtly as she could, but caught Lord Aert in the right corner of her
vision, glancing concernedly at her, his tail stiff, and hairs raised. Clearly he was in need of relief
as well. Please hurry, she thought.
Vauque looked down, smiling gently, and Meliora’s heart leapt. He sighed, and, to every
Plassen Lord’s surprise, slowly began nodding. She met his eyes eagerly. “I am open to these
terms,” he said. Yes! “But we still have things to work out. I must talk with my superiors, and
you with yours.” Meliora smiled broadly. This had worked out well. Not as well as she had been
hoping for, but well enough. It was a solid start.
“I couldn’t agree more, though I think you’ll find the King very enthusiastic about this
deal!” Meliora said. Though Vauque didn’t quite have the reaction she expected -- he almost
chuckled to himself. “I must admit, I do find myself wanting to trust you, Lady Meliora.
However, I also find that my trust is a little more cautious for your King, who seems more
content making deals with sugar-merchants, than running your kingdom himself.” Vauque said.
Meliora’s smile vanished.
Perhaps she should have tried to contain her shock, but her need to pee was taking up that
space inside of her instead. “How did -- how did you find out about that?” she said. Vauque
opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a messenger boy waddled up behind
him, and whispered something in his ear. His eyes went wide momentarily, and he gestured for
the boy to leave before standing up. The lords and ladies from his side of the table all followed
suit. Meliora still sat, half out of shock, and half because she wasn’t sure she could stand without
wetting herself. The other members of her side glanced expectantly. “Lady Meliora,” Vauque
said sympathetically, “I would stand if I were you.” Meliora frowned. What was this?
Still confused, Meliora stood as carefully as she could. It was just in time too, because as
she tried to scrape together what little composure she had left, two young men, each dressed in
colourful blue uniforms, strode onto the pavilion with trumpets in hand. Meliora was beginning
to shake, both mentally and physically. All of this was so confusing. Was it planned by Lord
Vauque in an attempt to intimidate? Maybe he knows about my bladder situation, she thought
tensley, and he’s stalling for time. Her cheeks began to burn red as she felt all the tables’ eyes on
her. Meliora attempted to move them to her side, feigning composure. She was attracting glances
from all around now. Hopefully this wouldn’t last long whatever it was, though Meliora had to
admit, she had a bad feeling about all this.
The trumpeters raised their instruments and rumbled through a regal tune. Then a third
figure, this one wearing a bright, frilly yellow dress, short enough that it barely came halfway
over their diaper, stood at the entrance to the pavilion as the trumpeters left. “Ladies and
gentlemen,” they said to the row of Plasseners, some of whom were beginning to squirm a little,
“Boys and girls,” and they looked to the opposite side of the table -- to Vauque and the other
officials from Luin and Dullen, “And representatives of the land, I duly present her Royal
Highness Queen Amée De La Seule Couche of Luin, Keeper of the Seven Swords, Guardian of
the First Crib, and Herald of the Winds of Puer.” Shit.
After that mouthful, and a minor moment of private panic on Meliora’s behalf, the
announcer bowed and backed up, before parting to the left of the entry.
And then, the Queen of Luin herself entered.
Flanked by two guards in the same uniform as the trumpeters, a woman in her mid
twenties flowed into the room. And flowed was the right word to describe the sight. Although she
seemed to radiate a pompous regality in that massively oversized frilly tutu, and despite her
waddle at the blatantly thick diaper that coddled her (in fact, it looked thicker than almost any
other Meliora had seen), she was still as graceful and gentle as the wind itself, as if she had been
born a particularly beautiful peacock. For a brief, blissful moment, Meliora forgot about her need
to urinate, and followed the table’s awed bowing and curtseying. This may have been a mistake.
As soon as she attempted to lower herself into a curtsey, she felt her bladder pang, and released
the tight grip of her urine in surprise. A tiny dribble spat out, and warmly twisted down her leg,
before she managed to regain control.
As a small wooden throne was brought up behind her, the Queen nodded regally and they
all sat. It was slightly easier to maintain control like this, and upon sitting, her hands were able to
snap back to hold her crotch. She began to wiggle slightly in her seat. To her left, she could
swear she heard a small fart from Lord Griet, Meliora’s aide. However, no one else seemed to be
paying attention to that, their energy instead focused on the Queen.
“So, it seems I am in the graces of some of the finest political minds in the land!” she
said, puffing up her dress slightly as she brought her hands down in excitement. “Yes your
majesty!” Vauque said. “I believe you already know our people,” and Vauque gestured to the two
representatives to his left, “but we also have Lady Moren Wystwith, of Dullen,” a lady to
Vauque’s immediate right nodded in recognition, “along with Lady Meliora Van De Natte,
representing Plassenar,” and Meliora felt all eyes cast upon her as she tried to keep herself
together. She stopped wriggling for a moment to nod towards Her Majesty. Gods it felt awful to
stop! “A pleasure to meet you both!” the young Queen said. As soon as she began chattering
again, Meliora resumed her little … what was it those Dullener’s in the north called it? Ah yes,
‘potty dance’, hiding behind the safety of the table.
The Queen smiled at everyone before continuing, “Please apologize for my intrusion, I
was in the area and was merely curious as to how these sorts of proceedings functioned.” The
Queen was newly appointed, her father apparently having died in battle, during the most recent
Pacification War. But Meliora didn’t have much time to dwell on that, she had to force herself to
remember to smile and nod when Vauque began to recount the meeting. As she pressed her
hands into her lap as hard as she could, she noticed her dress growing slightly damp. Was she
leaking already?! Gods, not now! Maybe I should look down to assess the damage… No. That
might give everything away. She was becoming really desperate now, holding herself as best she
could. She felt the urine pressing against her bladder, begging for release. Meliora glanced
towards the others on her side of the table. Some of them, too, were wriggling slightly in
discomfort. Compared to them, the opposite side were eerily calm. Lord Vauque, whether
oblivious or not, took his time informing the Queen, who sucked serenely on a pink pacifier a
servant had provided her.
To make matters worse, just as Vauque’s conversation was coming to an end, Halene and
Apprentice Narriss decided to return. Lady Halene was visibly stunned to see the Queen, and
slowed her rush to a walk, whilst the young apprentice moved to the seating outside of the
pavilion, with the lesser officials, and looking rather ashamed. And was she waddling?
The Queen broke off her conversation with Vauque, removed her pacifier, and looked to
Halene perturbedly. “And you are?” she asked with an air of surprise.
“Lady Halene Goudenel, Your Majesty.” Halene said with a curtsey. Although the Queen
seemed a little mollified by Halene’s obedience to procedure, she placed her pacifier on the table
instead of resuming. “Well, welcome Lady Goudenel. Do we have any more surprises awaiting
us?” She looked at everyone around the table. Meliora was tempted to say that they might have a
rather golden surprise if they continued much longer, but thought the better of it. Damn, she
wasn’t thinking straight now. She felt another quick burst of pee release, dampening her dress. It
was fortunate she was wearing dark colours, because she felt a large wet patch under her rear.
“So, Lady Halene, why do you join us only now?”
“Oh, I was just taking a quick break from the summit, your majesty.” Halene said.
“Yes, I’m sure it must be wearing on you, what with your odd lack of diapers. Though I
do hope you remain in my presence for the remainder. This all sounds quite thrilling.” It seemed
almost like a threat. A few of the Luin delegates chuckled slightly, though Meliora noticed
Vauque’s silent refusal to join in. The Queen only seemed bolstered by the reaction she’d gotten
however. “In fact, I’m surprised that none of you have wet yourselves yet! What with all the
rumors about you people and your barbarity.” the Queen directed that one straight at Halene, and
it was quite clear what she was intimating. A general chuckle from the opposite side of the table
didn’t help either, though once again Vauque just reddend, looking embarrassed. A furious blush
enveloped Halene, and Meliora saw her fists clenching. “Please excuse my potty mouth. I find
the differences in our cultures fascinating, but clearly the more concerning aspects are
exaggerated. You seem to be controlling yourselves finely today my lords and ladies. One could
only imagine if …” Meliora stopped listening to the queen. The bursts of urine were becoming
more and more frequent now. Please let this be over. Please let this be over! All this pee-talk
was taking its toll. The warm, damp patch on her rear was growing slowly, trickling into the
chair beneath, and Meliora realised that she had fully begun to wet herself. All she could do now
was delay the release as much as possible.
Meliora saw Vauque glance at her, and blissfully, he cleared his throat and spoke, “Well, I
believe that’s been quite enough for today. We have a busy time ahead of us, let us make the
most of it!” and he raised his wine glass. Everyone around the table followed suit, though thank
the gods no one drank, and they scooted their chairs back. Almost there!
Her backside felt wet with warm urine, and as they stood, she felt the cold air get to it. If
she could only hold it for a few more moments, just a few more …
But the movement was too much.
Meliora’s bladder spasmed, and she momentarily let go. It was impossible to hold again.
There was little else she could do but gasp, as Meliora felt a sudden stream of warm urine burst
out from between her thighs. An utterly blissful wave of relief flooded through her, rippling up
her back, as she let her pee go. She sighed heavily, her eyes fluttering in pleasure. Maybe she
could have gotten away with a small wet patch on her dark clothing, but this was simply too
much. She felt her pee hit the front of her dress, soaking a glistening warmth into it, and putting
on a show for the whole table. As her stream slowed, she opened her eyes and blushed as
gobsmacked expressions from the other side greeted her. There was no uproar, no shouting. The
Queen simply watched in petrified horror, before eventually striding around to Lord Vauque. She
whispered something utterly inaudible in his ear. Those around him seemed to have heard
however, and sly grins crept onto their faces.Vauque himself only frowned, almost angrily,
holding his tongue. She turned and faced Meliora directly.
“It seems that I was wrong.” she said quietly before twisting around, her frilly tutu
following her moments after in a spiral, and striding away from the Pavillion. The remaining
delegates, Meliora included, were left stunned.
She looked to Vauque for answers. All he offered was a look of sympathetic resignation.
“I’m sorry.” he said. And with that, his side of the table all left the pavilion as well, leaving a
very wet Meliora, and her allies, alone.

 

END OF EPISODE 2