PeculiarChangeling
patreon
Dungeons and Diapers - 11.5
🕑 Added 2022-01-23 19:00:04 +0000 UTCThis happens concurrent with some of the events in Chapter 11, which you can read here!
Hadrian slipped into the temple, cautiously checking that he hadn’t been followed. He pulled his long coat around himself tighter. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but still…privacy was a virtue. He was here to watch, not to be seen.
Shuffling through the crowd, he kept his head down, making his way towards the section he’d come to see.
Her section.
Serendipity performed beautifully. Because it was beauty he was here for, not anything more lurid–he had taste. This wasn’t a strip club, it was a temple to one of the gods. The fact that the priests and priestesses would flash their tits and expose themselves for donations meant nothing.
He took a seat right below her, surging with…artistic appreciation…as he watched Serendipity dance. Tonight she wore panties and a silk scarf that drooped down over her chest, always teasing at showing her nipples without giving a full view, save for when someone in the audience made a donation to the gods–then the scarf would pull back, revealing her perfect, supple breasts for a tantalizing moment.
She was beautiful, muscles toned and lithe, and every inch of her made him want to burst out of the catsuit that clung to his body, and especially to burst out of the diaper he’d been trapped in. There weren’t many inches of her, her eye level was around his belly button, but that only made her stocky body more enticing.
While he watched, entranced, an elf next to him took note. Leaning over, she slid a hand beneath his long coat, running it over the smooth, almost frictionless material of his catsuit. “When do you perform, darling? You’re gorgeous.”
“I don’t–” he started, flushing pink at the interest. Her hand made him uncomfortable, he wasn’t used to this sort of attention from strangers, but he didn’t know how to explain. “I’m not–”
She slid her hand down, running it over the bulge of padding between his legs. She seemed surprise at the crinkle of padding there, but that didn’t stop her from feeling him there, pressing in an almost-probing way, reminding him that he’d been rearranged down there. “Are you sure? You–”
A strong arm caught the elf’s hand, pulling it back. “You do not touch,” Serendipity warned. “You’ve been warned about this, Marigold.”
“He said he’s not a performer.” Marigold’s tone was sultry, and she scooted posessively closer to Hadrian, using her other hand to stroke between his legs, over the material of his cursed catsuit.
Hadrian’s cheeks flushed pinker, while his almost-nude protector pulled Marigold to her feet. “Leave, now.”
A moment of heat passed between them, but Marigold pulled away. “You’re no fun.”
She left, and Serendipity addressed everyone who’d been watching her performance. “I’m sorry for the interruption. Are you alright, wizard?”
He was momentarily hurt that she didn’t use his name, before recognizing that it was to conceal his identity. He was just another visitor to the temple. “I’m fine, I was just…surprised that she mistook me as a performer.”
“You’re dressed for it, certainly,” Serendipity quipped.
His lips twitched, and he looked away from her. “Well…”
She bent over at the waist, leaning forward so her face was close to his. In order to reach, she had to stand on tip-toe. “Would you like to?”
He blinked. “I can’t dance.”
“That can be worked around. I asked what you wanted, not what you could do.”
Hadrian swallowed. Being up on stage, all eyes on him…the thought was mortifying. Yet even as he considered it, he found himself standing, shucking out of his coat, accepting Serendipity’s hand and moving up onto the stage.
From his position, the audience seemed to melt away. He could hear them, but the light turned the crowd into points of darkness. Not a thousand observers judging him, just a rapt audience, wanting to see him. His catsuit glittered like stardust in the light, showing the shape of his whole body from his neck to bulging diaper to the high heels that sat permanently on his feet.
Her hands flashed, and he heard her voice whisper in his ear, though her lips barely moved. “Follow my lead. You can remove these with the release bar, they’re all for show.”
He meant to ask her, “What?” but as he tried to form the question, he felt magic blurring around his mouth. With the most awkward timing imaginable, the pacifier he’d been cursed with plopped between his lips, rendering speech impossible. He couldn’t protest or argue with words.
Standing below him, Serendipity moved her hands again, and around one wrist he felt a metallic click. As he looked down, the click was met on the other wrist–a pair of shiny mithril manacles cuffed him to the dancing pole, and…
And he could dance. He felt a surge of understanding hit him, magical intuition that guided his body. He turned, facing the audience, sliding his hands above his head and rotating his hips. He bent his knees, getting low, and then raised a latex-covered leg over the pole to spin around it.
As the calls and coins of the crowd reached him, and he felt the pole between his legs press up against the front of his diaper, he surged again. It wasn’t beauty, the pretense could be dropped, this was just hot.
Serendipity danced around him, sharing the pole, moving perfectly in sync. Even without magical enhancements, she was the more graceful of the pair, so she followed his actions, dancing to him because she could easily keep up.
He tried to be subtle, though how effective that subtlety was could be up for debate, as he chose his moves to include as much contact between his diaper and the pole as possible, seeking out the friction and sensation. He surged to escape the confines of his diaper, his catsuit, to find a room with Serendipity or just to have her take him on stage. Dancing with her was more alluring than watching by far.
And there was no point denying it–the attention drove him wild. He felt attractive, he felt powerful, he felt wanted. A little part of him grappled with how he’d changed, physically, how he wanted Serendipity inside of him, but complex matters of identity were beyond his thoughts. He was for that moment a sexual icon, a paragon of grace and maybe just a hint of beguilement.
In time, a new dancer came, signalling the end to their performance. Serendipity removed the cuff around his wrist and slipped it free of the pole, then winked at him and snapped it right back in place, dragging him down the stage, towards the temple’s rectory.
Once they were alone, she stood on tiptoe and reached up, freeing the pacifier from his lips. “You’d have made a delicious priest,” she said.
“I… that… I…” he stammered. “Gods.”
The gnome priestess pressed herself against him, looking up. “You brought in plenty of donations for our god tonight,” she purred. “How would you like her servant to reward you?”
Her expression left precisely zero room for misinterpretation. “I don’t…” he mumbled. “I can’t take this off.”
“We’re in the temple of Calistria,” she reminded. “We can work around that.”
Hadrian flushed pinker. “I’ve…”
“I know all your curses, Hadrian,” she said. “We can work around that, too.”
At a loss for words, he just nodded, vigorously.
Serendipity leaned back, pulling on his cuffs, and towed Hadrian to bed.
Fin
