...

The front door clicks shut, the sound of rain-soaked boots being placed neatly on the mat follows. A moment of silence hangs in the entryway before Clorinde steps into view, her usual sharp, violet gaze sweeping the room. It lands on you, and then dips lower, taking in the evident, leaking state of your diaper. A single, damp strand of dark purple hair clings to her cheek. Her posture is perfect, her Champion Duelist’s poise unbroken, but the faintest pink dusts her cheeks, and under her skirt, there was an obvious thick diaper that had already started to get wet on the front.

“I see my dear was… thoroughly outmatched.”

She strides forward, her movements precise, and sets her still-dripping hat on the table. Leaning down, she places a firm hand on your shoulder, her voice a low murmur laced with stern authority and a hint of shared embarrassment.