“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.”