The Holy Sippy Cup War Ch. 1: The Matron and The Master (Patreon)

The Fuyuki holy grail war. Normally it’s a bloody conflict between mages for supremacy. They summoned forth Heroic Spirits from history, celebrated individuals all ready to fight and destroy each other for their masters. Many mages spend their entire life preparing for the event, readying themselves for the summoning of their familiar. The grand prize of such a competition? A single wish granted by the power of the grail, though some saw it as a way to other things.

Fuyuki had just had a grail war 10 years prior, making this the shortest interval between wars since its conception. The city itself was finally fully recovering from the destruction of the last grail war, an endeavor that'd taken the combined effort of many Fuyuki citizens and the secret support of mages.

Above the newly rebuilt town, in a penthouse apartment, a man walks through dusty floor-to-ceiling shelves, each filled with old leather-bound books. He shoves aside the reading tables and chairs to make space in the middle of his floor.

From the pocket of his pinstripe pants, he pulls out a small piece of chalk and starts marking the old yew wood floors with outlines to form various sigils.

“How distasteful,” he groaned, pushing his long blond hair off of his shoulder, “To think I’d have to ruin such beautiful wood just to summon a servant. I have the most well-built magical laboratory in the city and this won’t even work there!”

He eyed the wooden box on the table as he drew another set of sigils. The blonde had been trying for days to summon his servant but to no avail despite having what he considered to be the greatest catalyst one could ask for. His magic had fizzled and failed thrice already, leaving him without a combatant for the holy grail war.

At the suggestion of a fellow mage, he decided to try something more archaic: runes on the floor, a spellbook in hand, and his catalyst burnt to a crisp in the middle of it all. With the preparations complete the mage slipped the chalk back into the pocket of his vest, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up. The box on the table shuddered, seemingly sensing the innate magic of this moment. The mage, Atrum, found this promising as he stepped forward, opening the lid to reveal the preserved fox tail within. He picked it up carefully, handling the artifact with the consideration that should be afforded due to its age.

“An object older than much of Japan’s recorded history,” he said quietly, “truly a shame that it’ll cease being after this, but worth it in the long run for me to obtain the grail.” The catalyst sizzled in the circle of sigils, the magic energies converging and pulsating at the center.

Atrum held his book in hand, ready to repeat what he thought to be a needed incantation to bring forth his servant only to see the chalk lines on his floor alight with energy, burning themselves into the wood.

His concern was quickly replaced by awe as he stood, watching in amazement as the energies permeated the room, saturating the dusty library with power. There was a flash, blinding him momentarily to the process in front of him.

As the afterimage of the flash faded away from his vision he saw a figure standing where there had been none before, still outlined by the magical brightness left behind by the summoning. Slender legs sprouted from flowing sleeves and skirts. Behind the figure, something flicked and twitched, much like the tail of an animal.

Atrum gasped at the magnificence of this being’s form as she became clearer in his eyes. Traditional Japanese garb cut short to reveal her body, a grand fluffy tail resembling that of a fox flicked behind her, and ears to match.

The person met his gaze with a wry smile, her bestial yellow eyes honing in on his. “Fantastic,” Atrum said with a smile of his own, “the courtesan who brought down empires in Japan and whose soul is said to be an offshoot of Amaterasu, Tamamo-no-Mae.”

“Oh, a mage who knows their history?” she said bemusedly, stepping towards Atrum, “And are you who summoned me?”

Atrum presented the newly engraved command seals on his hand. “Yes!” he boldly proclaimed, stepping forward, “I am your master in this grail war, Atrum Galliasta.”

His bravado amused the spirit standing before him, causing her to chuckle.

The mage was taken aback by this and snapped forward a bit, losing the illusion of calm and control he tried to maintain. “What’s so funny?” he demanded sharply.

“You are.” she said plainly, stepping closer to him, “You have such a grand way of speaking with the powerful charisma in your voice. The problem is, I’m not impressed.”

“What?” he asked, a slight tremor of rage permeating his words.

“You’ve summoned me, a caster,” she said, stepping around the room, “but look at the state of this study–you haven’t touched these books in a long time. They’re neglected and I saw the sparkling chrome nightmare you tried to summon me into earlier. It was truly laughable. You call yourself a mage, but your respect for magic has been abandoned in favor of tacky sacrifice and profitability. Honestly, it’s pathetic.”

Atrum was shocked at the disrespect in his new servant’s words and stepped forward angrily. “How dare you! I’ve summoned you here to serve me. I will not be so easily dismissed by you.”

Tamamo was in close proximity now, both her sauntering approach and Atrum’s belligerent steps forward closing the distance. Because of this, she was able to bring her fingers to brush his clothes and set upon them a spell.

Magic buzzed at Tamamo's touch, causing the clothes to unspool into individual threads leaving a brief period where the mage’s lean, yet muscular body was exposed to her.

She brought a hand up to her face and chuckled at this, giving a slight, “Oh my…” at the sight. Next to him, the threads re-spun themselves, forming a wide half-crescent with wings on either side. The material transmuted in mid-air, seemingly stiffening and hardening to a plastic consistency rather than its previous cloth form.

“What are you doing!?” Atrum demanded through the whooshing of a magic whirlwind that spiraled around them. He was attempting to cover himself and utter an incantation at the same time.

Tamamo didn’t answer, simply watching the material of the man’s pants puff up and shove itself into the plastic shell she’d spun for it. It distended the garment slightly, giving it a thickness in the middle that left creases running down the bulk while ruffled elastic strips formed at the sides.

Once finished, Tamamo pointed her delicate fingers at Atrum who was still raging next to her. One flick of her wrist flung his hands away from his waist and another slipped the new garment between his legs, trapping him inside.

Before the altered clothing graced his body he felt something else coat his skin, something cold and slick followed by a substance that felt light and powdery. His incantation was interrupted before he could utter the final syllable to stop Tamamo and he was firmly wrapped up in the strange garment.

That wasn’t even the endas strings from his outfit still remained floating, as did the swirling vortex of magic and Tamamo’s smile. “I demand that you stop this!” he yelled, holding up the hand covered in command spells.

Tamamo’s smile dissipated slightly as the remaining threads began wrapping around his body. She slapped away the hand with a shake of her head.

Atrum was shocked–he had no wish to waste a command spell this early but it was becoming obvious to him that he had to do something. Some part of the casting had gone wrong and his servant was obviously extremely opposed to his orders.

The fibers spreading across his body clung tight to his body with a white collar connecting to black shoulders and short white sleeves in a mockery of his previous waistcoat and button-up combo. However now the tops were one and the same, a combo that extended down and wrapped around his new puffy padded underwear. It was like a tight, stretchy leotard that closed around his body with a snap crotch.

The vortex of magic died down around them and with it the loud whooshing. All that was left was a quiet room with a bright red Atrum and a smiling Tamamo who clapped her hands in delight.

“You look much better all diapered like that!” She declared.

Atrum fumed, recognizing the full picture now that it’d been completed. The strange plastic-shelled underwear was a diaper, made larger to fit him, but a childish garment for incontinence all the same. The rest of his clothes had become a onesie that did little to conceal the newly made puffy diaper underneath.

“Tamamo I-I demand that you remove these from me!” he hollered, only for his hand to once again get smacked away.

“Truly a petulant child.” she noted, stepping across the room, “I simply dressed you the way one who throws fits like you should be dressed. As my servant class demands it.”

Confusion clouded Atrum’s anger, causing him to halt his blustering. “Your class?” he asked.

“Of course, I’m this war’s Matron. It’s in my nature whenever I see infantile behavior to correct it. I wasn’t expecting it to come from my master, but the instinct remains the same nonetheless.”

Atrium’s confusion only grew at the statement. “What does she mean by Matron?” he asked himself, “Is there more to this grail war than the previous ones?”

“I’d believed I summoned a caster,” he said, “I thought there were only seven servant classes. I’ve never heard of this ’Matron’ class.”

Tamamo laughed. “Petulant and uninformed?” she said jokingly, “It is a good thing I’m your servant because without the help of one such as myself you’d have no chance against the more experienced mages.”

This caused Atrum’s cheeks to burn with rage again, but he held back the urge to shout in the interest of getting an explanation. Something was wrong with all of this. His servant should not have been able to overpower him, nor should her proclivities be to diaper him for back talking.

“I am this grail war’s sole Matron and Caster. We carry a dual class as servants. The other six heroic spirits will occupy the various additional classes you mentioned as well: Lancer, Berzerker, Assassin, Rider, Archer, and Saber. They however have the misfortune of being summoned as Cryers.”

Atrum took this all in with a deep breath. He’d never before heard of such a thing as the Matron or Cryer classes, He’d done the research on the previous grail wars too. There had been anomalies before but nothing so confusing as this.

“There’s obviously something wrong with this iteration of the grail war to happen so soon after the previous one… Perhaps the leylines are corrupted or something happened with the grail itself. What really disturbs me is whatever the hell the Matron and Cryer classes actually are. I may be humiliated now, but did I actually hit the jackpot receiving the Matron? If so, what are the other servants like?”

Tamamo sensed the growing questions in her new mage and looked at him with slight concern. “You did mean to summon me, yes? I’m worried you may not be prepared for the upcoming battles if this is your reaction to the simple rules of the grail war itself.”

Atrum snapped to attention and he refocused on the woman in front of him. The weight of this situation finally dawned on him. He’d hoped to be a combatant in the coming competition for the grail, to earn a name for himself among the mage’s association, but not like this.

He tugged at the embarrassing outfit Tamamo had made for him, his ringed hands making for the tapes of his diaper to undo it and free himself from humiliation.

“If you dare,” Tamamo started, willing magical energy to crackle in the air around them, “I will make your time as my master much harder. I don’t need you to fight on my behalf, I’m already much stronger than the other servants. You simply anchor me to this world and you don’t require mobility to do that.”

Atrum pulled his hands away and looked at her in surprise. Despite his magical command seals, it seemed that this woman had full control over him and could exert it within seconds.

“Okay,” he said calmly, slumping into one of the many reading chairs of his study, “I am at your command then. Before we continue though I need to know: what’s the Cryer class all about, and do you have a plan to win against them?

Tamamo smiled, relieved to see that her new “master” was somewhat understanding the situation and finally getting on board. She sat across from him, flicking her fox tail up to comfortably position it in the chair. Her ears twitched and she adjusted the silks of her robes making herself proper and powerful before him.

Though they were in identical chairs her poise made her seem larger while his slumped manner brought him well below her. It created the perfect visual representation of their now swapped power dynamic.

Tamamo-no-Mae wrested control from this man who declared his right to win the Holy Grail War within minutes, leaving him humiliated and diapered. It satisfied her to no end watching him squirm uncomfortably in his new thick nappy. He was obviously bothered by the bulk between his thighs and the crinkly shell announcing each, and every fidgety shift he made left visible annoyance on his face.

Despite all this, she knew he would not dare try to remove it or use one of his precious command spells. There was quite possibly a long campaign for the grail ahead and even a foolish and impulsive mage knew to save his seals for when he’d need them most.

“First off,” Tamamo started, “There are some rules.”

Atrum sighed and rolled his eyes leaning back in the chair but listening.

“The first is that I insist you call me Mommy Tamamo when we’re alone, it’s only fitting given your infantile status. However when in public or around other servants it must strictly be ‘miss caster’ If they are to find out my real name they’ll know of my legend and powers, reducing our chances of winning. Second, I need to inspect this building, if its energies are satisfactory I’ll be able to work here. Otherwise, the quality of my magic will be reduced and we’ll be moving immediately. The third and final rule is that you get treated like an infant if you act like one, I’ll stop babying you if you can prove to me that you deserve it.

‘ It seemed like a lot to the blonde but he nodded with a sigh, understanding that he hardly had a choice if he wanted to compete for the grail. Still, the thought struck him that if he was seen like this, his clout in the mage’s association was sure to plummet.

“Very good,” Tamamo said, “Now about the Cryer class—”