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Dmitri the Dad
By KoopusK, feat. Azazel Wajanow/Malakesh

A mighty, muscular hyena knocked on the massive wooden doors before him. It was a stormy, portentous night, lightning crackled in the crags and wind whipped through the trees. It was weather that promised a night in for most, be they man or beast. Malakesh the Mighty definitely fell into the latter category, though with no small amount of “man” to his description as well. He was dressed in impressively ragged armor, dented, sullied, and stained by the blood of hundreds of enemies. The gnoll stood on the his warlord’s castle doorstep. Azazel the All-Powerful was an immensely powerful god of a goat with a beastly temper and an almighty body that made even Malakesh look weak. At least he had been the last time Malakesh had seen him.

Just as the hailing hyena was feeling the irritable urge to knock again, standing out there in the clammy cold, slowly, creaking the door opened. At first it seemed like it had done so on its own, but then Malakesh looked down and spotted a small, skinny, green figure standing on the impressive threshold, dwarfed by it. It was a pathetic-looking, knobbly-limbed little thing; a goblin, but even by goblin standards it was scrawny. It wore nothing but a patchy vest and a saggy loincloth.

“Ah, you are Azazel’s servant, aren’t you?” Malakesh growled, recognizing the goat’s ratty little slave, Dmitri. The hyena’s voice was deep and gravelly. The goblin looked startled at being spoken to or even acknowledged, it looked around in a bit of a panic as if desperate to see another minion that Malakesh could be addressing, but Dmitri was the only one standing in the cavernous castle entrance. Dmitri was the only one in the whole of the premises really, Malakesh recalled.

Dmitri serviced the entire castle somehow, that was one thing Malakesh knew about goblins though: they were small, dirty, and stupid, but even just one of them could get an impressive amount of work done when given clear instructions. Malakesh figured that Azazel probably worked this one to the bone.

“How is the old goat bastard?” Malakesh asked, sauntering into the entrance hall and shaking out his mane of wild, wet hair. The little goblin gulped, shuffling back in the face of Malakesh’s earth-shaking stride.

“Master Goat is… doing well… I is hoping,” the goblin mumbled in his broken English, swaying and rocking noncommittally on the spot, timid under the gaze of his master’s guest. “Yesyes?” Dmitri squeaked to his toes.

Azazel clearly did not entertain much, but Malakesh remembered Dmitri as always being scared of visitors in any capacity. He was always humorously bashful, almost to a ridiculous degree. At the same time, something seemed strange: apart from his apparent nerves, the goblin seemed extra cagy and clearly hiding something. Malakesh didn’t really care about the secrets of goblins, but something rubbed him the wrong way about Dmitri’s uncertainty.

“I'm sure you'd know how Azazel’s doing more likely than I would,” the great gnoll chortled to himself, his lip curling at the timidity of the goblin before him. Malakesh also knew the goblin was the sort of “mommy minion” that dedicated everything to his master’s well being, non-stop, obsessively. “But I somewhat doubt he could be doing too poorly with you around,” Malakesh rumbled.

It was cute, the way the goblin wrung his loincloth in his calloused little green hands when under scrutiny and winced whenever spoken to; clearly he’d been abused at some point, perhaps before he came to work for Azazel. That wasn’t really a concern to a gnoll general such as Malakesh, but then he enjoyed the surface show anyway.

“Dmitri is do his best, yesyes…” Dmitri mumbled, almost more to himself than Malakesh.

“Your Master must be very proud and happy to have you as his servant,” Malakesh said and nodded, not really meaning it, but enjoying the effect of the kind words on a creature that had clearly received very few in its life. The ease at which Dmitri could be made to blush from even the slightest acknowledgement was very funny to the gnoll.

Perhaps this comment was too much though, as little Dmitri went rigid and started blushing deeply all the way to the tips of his huge, pointy ears. He covered his burning face with his hands, his long green nose poking through his spindly fingers.

"Dmitri is feel warm all over from big ‘yeena man's words!" the goblin squeaked, voice muffled.

Malakesh lightly chuckled as he leaned in closer, a big toothy grin on his spotty, scarred hyena face. He was generally a ruthless warrior and bully to those beneath him, but it wouldn’t do to be rough on the servants of his superiors, besides, this was fun. He gave the tufts of turquoise hair atop the goblin’s head a ruffling pat.

"Oh, you are quite adorable. Call me Malakesh, goblin. I'm surprised that old grump of a geezer keeps anything remotely as cute as you around," the gnoll said sweetly.

The goblin let out a nervous squeak. The gnoll’s touch made him jump and flinch away as if expecting to be beaten. When no violence was forthcoming, one watery, big black eye peeked up shyly from behind his hands. A bone-thin, dusky green shoulder popped free of his raggedy vest as he shivered and trembled on the spot, twisting his dirty feet inwards, his bashful little toes grinding over one another.

Malakesh squatted down in front of the short goblin slowly, taking his time. The gnoll’s looming face descended impressively out of the sky from Dmitri’s vantage, bringing his muzzle a good deal closer to the little guy before him. A little cackle welled in the gnoll’s throat seeing Dmitri’s large eyes widen.

"Well, do you think you could bring me to your master? Or is he occupied right now?” Malakesh asked, thinking it was about time to get down to business, but he could still have a little fun, of course. “He sent for me a couple days ago but I know how busy he can get…" Malakesh was quite curious actually, given that the handwriting on the little scroll he’d received looked... fairly odd, scrawled and childlike compared to the demon goat's usual lofty, loopy handwriting.

The goblin blushed harder at the request and fretfully shook his head, making his long ears flap and flail.

"M-m-master is seeing no one!" he squealed. Whatever was going on with the goat it seemed it was making Dmitri quite flustered and protective.

Malakesh tilted his huge, hyena head, his mane flopping to the side. The rather... odd reaction from the goblin puzzled him, but he was familiar enough with goblins as a pathetic weak little servile species to know that one could hardly harm Azazel in any significant way.

He took a deep breath and let it out as a deep, mountainous sigh. It was unusual for Azazel to summon him, if that was indeed what the scrawled scroll was about, but even more unusual for him to not be ready to receive him. He supposed the jerk must be doing something important and secretive and had asked Dmitri to let nothing disturb him on pain of punishment.

"Hmm, very well... Can you at least let him know that I'm here in his castle? I wouldn't want him to think I'm letting him wait.” He straightened up and looked around the entrance hall. It was ostentatiously dreary, all black stone and ragged tapestries, though it was impeccably tidy and free of cobwebs and dust due to the goblin’s care. “Speaking of waiting, could you show me some place I can use as quarters until he is ready to see me?"

Dmitri was still acting flustered, but he couldn't very well be inhospitable to one of his master's honored guests. He beckoned Malakesh to follow him beyond the castle foyer and up the stone stairs, climbing them with a bit of difficulty as always with his short little legs and stature. Malakesh followed after, making sure to take his time and not just walk over the short goblin as he obviously could; it was polite, and also he enjoyed watching the diminutive Dmitri’s trouble scaling steps built for men of mighty stature, like Azazel or himself.

Dmitri led the gnoll into a cozy guest room with a feather bed and other amenities. With a quick once around the room to insure things were in order, the sheets were fresh, and the candles didn’t need replacing, the goblin turned back to his gnoll guest.

"D-Dmitri will be in the kitchen, preparing Master Goat's dinner of mushy carrots and peas. Mister yeena come be finding Dmitri if you is needing anything, pleezy," he squeaked and, with a deep bow that made his ears touch the floor, Dmitri departed.

"Uhm... alright then. Thank you, Dmitri." Malakesh offered another amused smile as the goblin left him by himself, letting him think some more about what had just been said. "Mushy carrots and peas?" he asked himself, quirking a heavy brow. The gnoll made his sauntering way over to the bed and began to discard his armor and clothes, shaking his head a little. "Sounds like the big guy got a mallet to the face."

But as the gnoll settled in, the magic of the castle was starting to settle on him as well. Malakesh felt a rush of refreshment hit him, starting to eat away at his years of experience and battle, his body firming and scars starting to fade. Not noticing this, he started to relax. Despite all of the oddness going on right now, a pleased sigh left his maw and he sank onto the bed, getting rid of most of his armor until he was left in just his comfy and loose loincloth hanging from him. Airy and wide, it was perfect for the more hot and dry climate he hailed from.

The gnoll didn’t seem to notice the magic as it started to seep into him, although after a while, a nagging sensation began to build in the back of his head.,  a prickling in his nape said he couldn’t just simply sit around and wait all day. Despite the long arduous journey through the mountains in a storm, for some reason Malakesh had too much energy to sleep right now.

‘Something just doesn’t feel right about all of this,’ Malakesh thought.

The gnoll warrior got back up, hopping to his feet with unusual finesse he hadn’t had in years, and he slipped silently out of his room. He decided he might as well have a sneak over to the kitchen to investigate a little more about what was really going on here.

It wasn't long before the scent of boiled vegetables hit the gnoll’s knowing nose, leading him right to the kitchen.

It was here that Dmitri the goblin had been busy bringing bushels of veggies to from the pantry and been boiling them in a big, pewter pot until they were soft. He stood on a precarious stool before the stove, stirring the bubbling water, tuft-ended tail swishing as he hummed a harmonious tune. He couldn’t help feeling nervous, having someone new in the place with him, but as the goblin got into his work he relaxed. He leaned in and tasted the broth, his little loincloth-clad rump swaying in time to his song. His strange, lullaby-like goblin song.

Creeping upon the entrance to the kitchen, Malakesh laid his eyes upon the goblin inside as he worked on preparing what appeared to be a mostly mushy meal for his master.

The goblin didn’t notice the scantily clad gnoll in his prime in the doorway. The steam and smoke of the kitchen hung over the brick and brass, creating a kind of cloud that blurred the vision at a certain height. Dmitri was on tiptoe, teetering, but somehow never toppling, with the feet of his tall, spindly stool wobbling as he reached up to add some seasoning to his stew pot. If he were startled now, the tiny goblin would most certainly go tumbling. The gnoll considered clearing his throat, announcing his presence, but thought better of it. It was more enjoyable to watch the goblin work at his extremely ill-suited size for the environment.

But the heat of the kitchen seemed to be exacerbating the magic afflicting the oblivious Malakesh, speeding it up as it stole weeks upon months upon years of battle and strife from his body. Or perhaps it was the proximity to the strong paternal aura Dmitri was exuding. The goblin, with his little burn-stained apron and oversized chef's hat indeed had a certain subtle emanation that was causing the gnoll to race down the other side of his prime years toward adolescence, scars and blemishes disappearing as each war wound was undone.

As yet still unknowing, Malakesh was stealthily duckwalking his way into the kitchen, keeping his eyes on the cook… but not engaging the goblin. After all he still wanted to see if the suspicious, if cute little servant might be up to no good. So far, it just seemed like the minion was cooking a perfectly normal if vegetarian meal for his master. None of the spices or ingredients seemed out of the ordinary. If anything, it would appear that the goblin was taking pains in making sure the resultant vitamin-rich mush would end up fairly mild as if cooking to not upset young little tummies. The only thing he could find the goblin guilty of so far was making a less than adequate meal for the almighty goat Lord Azazel.

The gnoll, being none the wiser to his lightening physique, started to smirk to himself, finding he somehow had a gradually easier time sneaking, hiding underneath the large table across from the stove which was covered with all sorts of raw ingredients for the chef goblin to use in constructing a menu for his master. He didn’t notice that it was unusually light on the meat and harder, chewier foodstuffs.

It felt a little like when Malakesh was younger and he had to rely more on his nimble feet and agility, less so the overwhelming strength he had gained as one of Azazel's most trusted generals. It was weirdly exciting, engaging in this sort of “hide-and-seek” and for some reason the childish game didn’t feel so inappropriate for him to be “playing” right now. Without realizing it, the gnoll had re-entered his teenage years by now, his interest in investigating Dmitri’s possible treachery fast diminishing alongside his battle experience and other mature features.

Hearing the slight rustling of Malakesh’s drooping underclothes as the gnoll ducked under the ingredients table, the Dmitri’s long pointy ears perked up. The chef goblin looked around for a moment, pushing up his floppy hat and squinting through the haze of steam in the kitchen before the sizzling sound of his stew boiling over redirected his attention to the pot once again. The hidden gnoll felt the odd, flighty urge to giggle; he’d evaded detection by his “prey”.

The goblin continued to cook, humming another old indistinct song from his extinct tribe, unaware that an increasingly less-experienced hunter in increasingly less-fitting clothes was stalking him, the gnoll hidden in the shadows beneath the ingredients table. At the same time the kitchen was seeming more and more like a playground to the simpler-minded gnoll. All the advancement and military experience was slowly slipping out of his head along with other mature knowledge.

By now, for Malakesh, standing up to his full height was no longer enough to even reach the table’s surface and he could stand up entirely underneath the table with no problem. Malakesh slipped behind one of the wooden table legs, deeming this more than enough concealment to hide his form, which he still hadn’t realized was already severely reduced, his loincloth dragging on the floor and hardly clinging to his slim, skinnier waist. The littler gnoll let out a fairly obvious, gnollish cackle as he did so. Dmitri was startled by the sound of the high-pitched giggling in his kitchen and almost fell right off his perch then and there. However, he managed to steady himself with his tail, clinging to the stool in a catlike way.

A big, toothy, dumb smile curled his softer, rounder muzzle as his spotted, tufty tail wagged wildly behind him. He was sure the goblin had no idea what was coming, he was still preoccupied getting his balance, this was the perfect opportunity for Malakesh to strike! Yes, he was going to... But, as lil’ Malakesh tried to leap forward for a good pounce onto the clueless goblin, his feet caught themselves in the folds of his clothing, and he fell, his nose hitting the stone floor hard.

The chef looked around and then down at the not-very-well-hidden hyena cub and he saw little Malakesh take the spill and winced. There was a brief moment of silence in the kitchen after the loud WHAP before the little, barely 12-year-old gnoll started to sniffle, then began to bawl in earnest, both hands moving to clutch over his little snout.

"Oh nono..." Dmitri climbed down carefully from the stool, waving a hand and using magic to turn off the stove, the bubbling brew slowing to a simmer atop the burner. He approached the little gnoll, no more than 10 years old now, then 9, 8... rapidly regressing before his very eyes. Malakesh was nearing the goblin’s size now. Dmitri reached down and helping the gnoll cub to his feet.

For a moment, Malakesh seemed inconsolable from his fall, both from the embarrassment and the sharp sting in his stubby hyena nose, which was driving tears into his eyes. He was bawling and sobbing loudly, a little too much for a big boy of his... well... oh. Something seemed to be realized in the stinging, lingering pain. And his regression was suddenly noticed and immediately made him feel embarrassed. Malakesh’s immature impulses certainly seemed more appropriate before he realized he was doing them. His face burned.

"There, there, Dmitri is here, you is hurt your snooty snout? Dmitri is kiss it all better, there we go." The goblin stood on tiptoe and kissed Mally's nose.

The gnoll blinked in surprise; oddly the goblin’s smooch seemed to soothe the gnoll immediately, some magic healing seeming to be at play because the pain was all gone in an instant! However the gnoll's clothes weren't so easily fixed, hanging off him ridiculously, especially the undergarments, ready to slide right off his little hips. Malakesh’s big blue-green eyes stared at the goblin, wide with bewilderment.

"Wuh ... what happun... why am I so... small?" Mally asked. He looked a little confused and worried. One of the gnoll cub’s fangs wobbled around inside his snuffling, shorter snout as he spoke. It looked like his little trip knocked a milk tooth loose.

The larger and ever more paternal-seeming goblin tut-tutted and dabbed at Mally's damp eyes with a washcloth, smiling consolingly.

"It is just the magick, Master is having samesame problem. Do not worry, Dmitri will make a special batch of yummy stew for little Mallykesh!" he said and beamed. The little goblin was looking bigger and bigger for the little 7 year old gnoll cub, make that 6, 5... Mally’s overlarge undergarments soon joined the pool of fabric that had gathered around the regressing gnoll's ankles. The short peek at a very reduced source of pride was enough to make Malakesh start to sniffle again, his face burning worse than ever.

Unfazed, Dmitri reached right down and picked up the previously skimpy, now blanketingly big loincloth. He lifted it up for the seemingly otherwise nude Mally to hold onto.

"Dmitri will dress little Mallykesh in new clothes too that will fit his little bitty cubby bum." The goblin giggled, patting the peeking spotted hyena rump that poked out of the rear despite his held up loincloth.

---

An hour later, “Mallykesh” wound up in a playpen with his former leader. Azazel was similarly reduced, no more than a 4-year-old, stubby-horned goat kid, while Malakesh was lucky to clear 3. The great Dark Lord Azazel was fallen from on high, now only fit to rule his excessively juvenile playroom. The place was highly colorful and filled with soft toys and cutesy decorations. Azazel seemed happy at least to have a playmate now, though his bossiness had not been grown out of, or “shrunk” out of rather, in fact it only seemed to have increased with his reinstalled immaturity.

The goat kid hogged the toys and wailed and whined whenever Mally won any of the games they played, which attracted Dmitri to come and find out what was the matter. The goblin was very sympathetic to his miniaturized master, almost to a fault, though at least the goblin seemed to realize when Azazel was faking. Dmitri was pretty astute in that, and tended to tease the aged-down Azazel when he was being a crybaby.

Dmitri’s presence only seemed to make the youthening continue though, and made them younger still, and perceptive as he was in the little ones’ behavior, he didn’t seem to have noticed he was doing it. The goblin was hopelessly solicitous and paternal, seeing to their needs and treating them with a mortifying familiarity as he fussed over their incredibly immature anatomy. Especially he was fastidious about checking their garments, which were no more than spare rags, wrapped around their loins and bottoms and neatly knotted over their tiny, pudgy hips.

The unfortunate thing was that, as they continued growing younger, the garments had a habit of loosening, and Dmitri had to retie them, the little ones’ clumsy, stubby-fingered hands incapable of such dexterous feats. No matter how they fussed or complained in increasingly broken English and lisping words, teeth disappearing by the visit, he made them lie down and lay still as he made the adjustments. The fabric was soon quite bulky despite this, and it was getting very hard to see the impromptu garments as anything other than nappies, especially with their age approaching the appropriate demographic for that fashion.

When Mally pointed this out, with a gap-toothed smirk and snigger, Azzy shot right back, and the name-calling led to rolling around with weak little fists pinching and bopping. The goblin was there in a flash, seeming to have sensed the turbulence as a sixth sense. Any bumps or bruises from roughhousing were examined and carefully kissed all better, but Dmitri scolded them with a waggling finger that instilled an unfamiliar and strange sense of shame in them.

“Dmitri is disappointed goblin, Masters must be nice to each other, now, Mallykesh says sorry to Azzyzelly,” the goblin said firmly, crossing his arms. He now towered over the near toddlers. Their eyes inexplicably drawn to their feet as their faces flushed in shame, the gnoll cub and goat kid apologized and Dmitri made them hug begrudgingly to make up. The toothy grin and head pats they received from their caretaker somehow made it worth it though.

When they were having trouble walking and remembering they used to be “big boys”, Dmitri seemed to finally realize that something was very wrong. His formerly ruthless, mighty, masculine Master had been reduced to a cooing, drooling little baby goat. His wide, glassy eyes barely showed the memory of what he used to be. As for Malakesh, he’d taken to gnawing on things with the few remaining teeth he had, suckling his thumb as he napped, and could barely count to 3 without losing interest. And they just got worse, soon no longer even able to crawl or roll over, gurgling and toothless little infants that needed constant attention.

Dmitri didn’t know what to do, he was certain that there would be trouble if the “Big Bad Azazel” didn’t turn up in public to lead his armies eventually, and he didn’t know how far this Magick was going to go. It might keep going until there was nothing left! That was something he really didn’t want to happen. The goblin bit his thumb as he watched the two tiny babies. Their “nappies” had just been retied again, and were already looking too big on their tiny forms. They were almost newborns.

As much fun and as rewarding as it had been looking after the little tykes, he wanted his big bosses back- well, at least big enough that he didn’t have to worry so much about them hurting themselves or choking on small objects.

Without realizing it, this desire seemed to take shape in the magic that Dmitri didn’t realize he was instilling in the castle and its occupants. The regression started to reverse.

Slowly, Azazel and Malakesh grew back over the following weeks. When they stood up, Dmitri just about cried with pride, but rushed forwards to kiss stubbed snouts when they toppled after their first steps. Gradually, their old personalities and selves started to reappear, though the memories seemed to have grown fainter and muddled, for one, they seemed convinced that Dmitri had been with them their entire lives- and, in a way, he had. The goblin’s care appeared to have made a lasting impact. They even called him ‘Dada’, or ‘Daddy’ when they started to talk.

“Daddy Dmitwi wikes me da bes’,” Azazel boasted as he received another spoonful of soft turnips from the goblin, little pudgy feet kicking happily, sat in a high chair in the kitchen.

“Nuh-uh!” Malakesh claimed, pausing in his relentless teething on the nipple of his milk bottle, also sat in a matching high chair of his own. “He like’th me th’le beth’t!” The pair currently had their own unique lisps from their different dental developments.

Dmitri smiled to himself. He reassured them both that he cared about them equally. Even though Azazel was technically his original “Master”, it didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Things were sure to be very different when they finally grew up all the way again.