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     Dungeon of Crawling.

     For Toya

     By Psudo Argyraspides

    

    

    

    

     “N-no!” Toya squealed, instantly frantic as he bounced up and down, from one leg to the next, “H-he can’t do this t-to me!” There were tears in the wolf’s eyes as he tripped backward over a play block thrice the size of any ordinary block, and fell flatly on his squelching backside. The shock of the impact was enough to jar the wolf’s concentration, and what little control he had left over his bladder and bowels vanished instantly. A series of loud, rude noses came from Toya’s backside as he lay there curled on the ground, unable to do anything but try and resist as he filled the seat of his diaper, tail down in submission. Less than a minute later, the whimpering had turned to tears, leaving Toya crying pitifully on the ground, the seat of his diaper sagging precipitously against the inside of his onesie, which, in preventing that he didn’t sag too badly and leak, also left him unable to take his mind off the fact that he had, moments ago, messed himself like the puppy he had remained until the age of twelve, and all that age-old repressed anguish came back to him in a flood.

     “T-Toya, buddy… calm down…” Matteo said, looking somber as he knelt down next to the wolf, who, true to what the owl had written on the board, he found was wetting himself like a tap on drip, small spurts every thirty seconds or so, leaving his diaper with the constant warm sag that indicated fresh use. “Shhh… it’s okay…” The raccoon put one hand on his friend’s head, stroking the soft fur affectionately, then remembered his lute, and, unslinging it from his back, played a quiet lullaby that he’d learned while traveling amongst the northern wolf tribes, it might even have been one that Toya knew.

     Seeing little better to do, Anzu and Farix knelt down next to Toya, who, having fully broken down and begun to bawl, continued to wet and mess himself almost constantly for the next few minutes. Eventually, despite his own cramping bladder and groaning belly, Matteo pulled the little wolf into his lap, continuing to pluck the strings of his instrument since, as far as he could tell, it was the best he could do to calm the wolf down.

     Farix groaned suddenly, and began to squirm as his own bladder began to ache, no thanks to the amount of water and juice he’d drank in the previous room, and promptly felt Anzu’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close. “Come on, Farix. Just relax, we’ll get through this,” the crow said, gently stroking the skunk’s ears as he began to whimper with strain, beading down with all his might to keep from soaking himself even as their leader remained impressively calm throughout, as though the other three weren’t crying, squirming for dear life, or constantly wetting and messing themselves like overfed cubs.

     Soon, the four of them were curled up in a small huddle, each drawing some measure of comfort from the others as they fought their internal struggles, Matteo, Anzu and Farix fighting to keep from soaking and filling their diapers, and Toya struggling not to bawl like an infant at the onrush of shameful memories associated with being forced to do just that, most notably in this case the dozens of times his older cousins had chased him around on the odd occasions when he would have been able to make it to the latrine house, deliberately delaying him in one way or another until, unavoidably, he wet or filled his diapers and had to go to the older wolves to get changed, a pitiful spectacle in and of itself.

     "N-nnnghh…” The raccoon said, starting to wiggle uncontrollably as he missed several notes in the song he was playing, eventually giving up on the lute altogether and setting it down that that he could press his hands against his crotch in a desperate attempt to hold back what was coming. Anzu and Farix looked at him, pitying, as he whimpered, ears going back against his head, and felt the warm wetness of a soggy diaper spread out between his legs. Still sniffling, Toya reached out for the blushing, whimpering raccoon, and the two of them cuddled one another for what little comfort it provided given the circumstances. Bards weren’t known for being the most willful of adventurers, and, already having lost in his own eyes, Matteo soon save in to the dreadfully uncomfortable churning in his belly, and, a few moments of groans, grunts and whimpers later, the raccoon joined Toya in the psychological hell that was a cub in desperate need of a diaper change.

     “W-what is he even doing this to us for…?!” Farix moaned, the skunk holding his overly large, fluffy tail close to his chest as his stomach cramped, and, marshaling his withs about him, he held back the urge to give in like Matteo had. Luckily for all parties involved, the smell was mostly contained by the thick diapers and snug onesies, so that reminder of their current state wasn’t as blatantly obvious as might otherwise have been. The rounds of cramping occurred every few minutes, the skunk and crow desperately struggling to keep from filling their diapers like the other half of the team had, which was a strain even for the two more willful classes in their party. Anzu and Farix held onto one another, wriggling and squirming as they tried to fight off the constant cycle every time it rose and fell.

     First, the pressure would start to build, annoying but tolerable. When they held back, the cramping would start to set in. It wasn’t painful, per say, just a sense of prolonged discomfort, lethargy, frustration, and an ever growing need to empty their bowels. The cramping kept them on their toes, every few seconds in the five minute cycle their bellies would try to force out the contents of their bowels, and they had to resist, whatever the cost, but by the end of the cycle the urge began to grow exponentially, right up until the mage and the paladin where whimpering like babies, squirming around in the other’s embrace, practically on the verge of tears from the struggle to keep from ending up like their saggy diapered companions, and then, releasing, the urge would start to retreat, and the pair of them would get a few minutes to catch their breath before the whole thing started all over again, only to reach a greater and greater peak each time, testing the limits of their will.

     “H-how long has it been…” Anzu said, panting, during just one of these brief respites, all pretext at dignity gone as he buried his beak into the shoulder of Farix’s onesie, panting heavily from the effort of the ordeal they had just been through, and would soon continue once again, fully aware that he, too, looked just as much the whimpering cub in this circumstance as the mostly incoherent raccoon and wolf, who had taken to huddling together some ways away.

     “I’ll… check…” Farix said, voice waivering with the strain as his belly gurgled and groaned. The skunk muttered the spell he used for keeping track of time, then sniffled, and began to tear up, “T-twenty eight minutes…” He said, looking desolate as he waited for their stern leader’s reaction. He caught a wince of dismay on Anzu’s face, then it fell into grim determination.

     “We can do it, don’t lose hope…” The crow said, but Farix could tell his heart wasn’t in it. This was a challenge that they were meant to fail, one intended for them to throw all their willpower behind, only to come up short, and thereby reinforce the air of insignificance and regression that this owl fae was trying to force on them. The skunk had done all manner of research on faeires, their magical creators, the immortal Tuatha Dé Danann, and what they had been intended to do. In their most basic, the fae were a group created by those particular deities as a tool in their political games, spying on one another, sabotaging their plans, and generally making life miserable for the other residents of Tir na Nog, the land of eternal summer, an alternate plane of existence.

     The fact that the faerie was here at all was concerning - most of them were directly tied to one of the Tuatha Dé by oaths more binding than chains, which meant that either it was after them on the orders of one of those gods, or it was a rogue, and using its power to do whatever it pleased. So far, Farix thought, the latter was the more likely scenario, despite the fact that both were equally concerning.

     Here we go again… Nnnnghhhaah… The skunk thought to himself, squeezing his tail in preperation as he felt the strain in his belly begin again. Moments later Anzu, likewise, began to freeze up in discomfort, and it took all the willpower and mental fortitude that the mage had developed over a lifetime of using magic, an exceptionally petty, violent study at the very least, to keep his diaper clean, a purpose which he’d never imagined he’d use it for.

     Even if they hadn’t admitted it, both Anzu and Farix had wet themselves nearly immediately after the urges set in for the first time, and several times again since. Their diapers were warm, soggy and squished slightly between their legs as they wiggled. It had, for both of them, been an obviously suicidal path to try and keep both their bladders and bowels at bay at once, so, by unspoken consent, they’d picked the lesser of the two evils, and decided that their dignity could survive a wet diaper, but a messy one would be much harder to forget…

     “N-no…” Farix heard Anzu groan, the crow clenching his beak shut almost painfully, and squeezing the skunk with muscles built for flight and hand to hand combat, followed by an almost inaudible whimper that made the crow feel unmistakably vulnerable to Farix, who had always looked up to the paladin as a stone tower with unshakable foundations, and this was the first crack he’d ever seen. For a few moments he held that position, holding Farix in a death grip and burying his forehead into the skunk’s chest, then he relaxed, and looked away. The mage didn’t bother to look at their leader’s backside, but he already knew that it would be as lumpy and bloated as Matteo’s, albeit maybe not as much as Toya’s, who had continued to wet and mess himself like clockwork every few minutes as the potion forced his body to empty itself, regardless of what the body’s owner felt about it.

     However much might have wanted to dwell on the crow’s failure to control himself, Farix was promptly dragged back to the present by the exponentially growing urge in his own bowels, which he had to commit himself to entirely to keep from winding up just like the other three. A sudden desire welled up in the mage’s belly, a relentless urge just as powerful as the laxative trying to purge his digestive tract, but to the opposite effect. He wanted to win this, had to win this. Farix knew that, if he broke down and gave in too, everyone would loose hope. He had to send the message to his friends, and to this faerie, that he wasn’t going to knock their party out with one punch.

     And that got him through the peak that had broken Anzu. The intense discomfort, the reckless, unspeakable urge to give in and fill his diaper, all of it was like water against stone for Farix’s intensely trained mind. As a rule, mages didn’t talk to non-mages about their art, but, if he had to explain it, the skunk would have said that using magic is like trying to bend incredibly powerful forces to your will, forces the likes of which the physical world can barely comprehend, and which will spend every waking moment of their captivity struggling, fighting against you, looking for any weakness in your spell that they can use to escape your power, even thought that might well mean killing you, or worse, depending on the type of magic, and the type of spell.

     That’s what changed in Farix’s mind. As though he were engaging in magical combat with someone, the skunk closed off his mind to all other stimuli but a few lines of poetry he’d picked up off a slate tablet years before. And, like that, he endured. Time passed in an indistinct blur, until, drawing him back out of the trance he’d put himself in, Farix noticed that the urges to mess were receding, no longer so palpably urgent and overwhelming. Bit by bit, a few more of the cycles passed, each less intense than the previous one, and, still entwined with Anzu, Farix allowed himself to relax.

     “I… I made it…” The skunk said, blinking up at the crow, and wiggled a bit in his still empty pampers, reaching over to grope his own seat just to make sure that he had actually managed to avoid messing himself, and smiled with satisfaction, “That was… difficult.”

     “You don’t say…” Anzu said dryly, and looked away, “You should go talk to Toya and Matteo, it would do them good to see that… all of us didn’t give in.” Farix nodded in agreement, then went over to the two overgrown cubs, both of whom were laying on their sides to avoid squishing their loaded diaper seats against the ground.

     “F-Farix?” Toya said in a wavering voice, blinking past his rosy eyes to look up at him, “I-is it over…?” The wolf looked positively miserable, and more vulnerable than the skunk had ever seen him. It was like… looking at actual cubs, small, innocent children that would shatter if you blew on them too hard, and seeing his party like that like made the skunk twitch with mingled confusion, frustration, and unease.

     “Yeah, buddy… It’s over. And look, I’m still clean,” Farix said, smiling reassuringly, and sat down next to the wolf, gently pulling him into his lap. The skunk had expected Toya to complain that he was showing off, rubbing it in everyone’s face that he had managed to keep clean when everyone else hadn’t, but he didn’t. The wolf just blushed, smiled, and let Farix pet him, something Toya had never let him do before, even though he clearly enjoyed it. “But… I’m exhausted,” he continued, slouching a bit, and it was the truth. He could temporarily ignore physical pain and discomfort in a trance like he had, and in that way drive past all sorts of unpleasantness where others could not, but it was only a postponement of the displeasure, not an escape. His belly still groaned from the strain it had been put under, and the only thing Farix wanted at that moment was a nap.

     “Congratulations, it looks like I was correct about the lot of you,” the owl said, clearly very pleased with himself, into each of their ears, causing the whole group, now in a circle on the floor, to tense, “Two infants, one newly hatched ball of dander, and a bedwetting toddler to keep charge over the rest of them.”

     “You’re a total dick,” Toya said, slowly starting to come back into his normal, negative attitude, “How about telling us why you’re doing this, anyway?! Why go through all this trouble to treat a bunch of random adventurers like… cubs?”

     “It amuses me?” The owl said again, clearly looking to get a rise out of the group, and succeeding, “I see it like making a mouse maze, and seeing if the mouse can find their way to the cheese. Add a few traps into the mix, and you have a veritable mountain of entertainment. Also, don’t take it so personally. I wasn’t looking to capture you four, in particular. In fact, as I understand it, you were the replacement contract for a much more qualified group that was supposed to come after me, one whom I might have had a bit more trouble abducting. Let’s say they smelt smoke where there’s fire.”

     “So this whole thing is just some giant, sick game to you?!” Toya shot back, sitting up suddenly and inadvertently squelching the giant lump of puppy mess in his diaper, eliciting a pitiful yelp from him.

     “Yes, that’s exactly what it is,” the faerie replied, apparently unphased, “I have a god complex, and I enjoy watching others struggle in impossible situations. Eventually I got bored of just using regular villagers, tradespeople, merchants, and decided to go after something with a little more meat. I must say that the four of you are regressing quite nicely.”

     “So what happens now…?” Anzu said, using his emotionless, cold voice, then something entirely unexpected happened. All four of them, all at once, grunted in discomfort as they felt something roughly hand shaped grasp the seat of their diaper and squeeze it, forcing them to feel just how loaded and messy, or, in Farix’s case, just soggy, they were.

     “Now,” The owl said, but the pressure against their diaper seats didn’t dissipate, “The four of you get to take a nap. There’s a crib with pillows, blankets and plushies for you on the other side of the fence, you’ll have a chance to change out of those icky diapers afterward, if you choose. And don’t worry, they’re enchanted against leaking or rash, you could feasibly stay in the same diaper through the entire maze and not lose another day’s worth of age in the process. But really, what fun would that be?”

     The adventurers tried to ask more questions, throw insults, or otherwise provoke the owl into giving more information, but he didn’t speak to them again. Eventually they found that the gate to the play pen was no longer locked and they could, indeed, proceed, waddling like the full-diapered cubs that they were, over to the giant crib in the corner and climb onto the huge mattress. It was, after the long, painful struggle that they had just endured, virtually paradise. Nobody complained about the state of their diapers, fortunately. They were all too tired for that, and the comforter was so soft…

     Once they had all climbed in, even Toya having a bit of trouble moving with so full of a diaper, by wordless consent, everyone grouped together. Whatever it was that drove them, nobody could bare to be alone right now, and, despite the smell, Toya, Anzu, Matteo and Farix all cuddled up into a fluffy ball, dignity temporarily set aside in exchange for comfort, a commodity which was in very low supply at present.

     ***

     They were getting better at sneaking up on him. Toya had barely had time to perk up his ears at the sound of whispers, bare paws on the tamped earth floor before the blankets that made up his winter bedroll snapped tight around him, and several strong paws found and pinned his limps down. He tried to howl, panicking with the realization of what was about to happen, but one of the other wolves clamped his fist closed around the much smaller canine’s muzzle, driving his teeth into his jowls and making him whimper in pain and discomfort.

     “Quiet, milk drinker, or you’re only going to make this worse for yourself,” Aeden, their leader, said, bending down and speaking right into one of Toya’s snowy white ears, a peculiar feature that he’d been teased endlessly about for most of his meager, five year existence.

     Toya growled deep in his throat, wanting so hard to bite the other wolf’s hand, as he had done so many times before, but he was getting smarter, and kept the smaller black’s face pressed into his palm while his friends worked, dragging Toya onto another blanket and pinning him while they wrapped it into something of a cocoon, making any further struggle an impossibility.

     “There’s a good squeaker,” Aeden said, glaring down triumphantly at Toya’s look of pure fury as he was dragged, not carried out of the adolescent’s tent’s frontal flap and into the snowy white forest beyond. The other wolf’s grip on his muzzle loosened as they got a bit further out, now that much of the danger of Toya getting help was past them, but it didn’t release entirely. Some fifty yards passed in this way, the white eared wolf bumping his head on every log, rock, or patch of unsteady ground they dragged him across. When they finally dropped him, Toya leapt at the chance, squirming and kicking to free himself from the bindings, but, before he could do more than get his forepaws free, the weight of three larger males came down hard on him, knocking the breath out of the much smaller wolf and pinning him face down in the snow.

     “Where do you think you’re going, runt?” One of the others said, a note of glee in his voice, and Toya, naked but for his fur, and the cloth diapers which he almost always had to wear, was yanked free of the cocoon and directly into the snow. If it weren’t for his winter coat, which came in much thicker and more luxuriously than the other wolves of his tribe, a carryover from his mother, who had donned from a pack much further north, he probably would have frozen to death in the cold mountain snow.

     “S-stop! Y-you’re crushing m-mee…!” Toya squealed, barely able to breathe with so much weight on top of him, three other fifth year males, all of whom were a good third again his height and weight. Runt, he hated that name, and it made the smaller wolf’s face burn with anger, even as she fought to escape the oppressive embrace of the bullies, three of Toya’s cousins that had tormented him since the inter-pack mating that had resulted in him and three other pups. Being strict eugenicists, the northern packs wouldn’t have kept him, so he’d been left with his father’s pack, and they had been only marginally less harsh.

     “What’s that, runt? I don’t speak puppy,” Aeden said, grabbing Toya by the nape of his neck and yanking the wolf up and out of his sleeping bag entirely, only to drop him back down onto the soft, fur and homespun sack. The other two wolves laughed sadistically, standing by and watching their eldest brother torment him. Aeden reached down to Toya’s crotch, which had several layers of linen cloth wrapped around it, enough to make bringing his knees together impossible, and, worse yet, he was clearly soaked already, despite the fact that it was barely midnight. They could easily have told by the smell alone, but clearly the pack bullies wanted to traumatize him a little extra today. “Tsk tsk, how did you get out of the puppy pen, milk drinker? I think I’d better take you back where you belong. But first…”

     “N-no! Nuh a milk drinker! Stop it, Aeden!” Toya squealed, trying to kick him in the groin, or anything else that would give him enough advantage to run back for the village, maybe climb a tree for the night. Anything to get him away from these three.