Strip her down

"Alright, no more games," Rolga says, grabbing the front of Hilda's makeshift dress and yanking on it.

*SHRIIIIIP!!!!*

Hilda lets loose a pitiful, girly scream; something far too wimpy for the formerly fierce warrior woman who was claiming to be the best knight in all the land just a couple of days ago.

She spins like a top as her makeshift garment is pulled off of her in one fell swoop, giving Rolga a 360 degree view of her bare breasts (her funbags flopping too and fro, further fueling Hilda's feelings of inadequacy about her own body).

The dizzy dame stumbles through Rolga's workspace, knocking tools over and accidentally undoing the flimsy cloth wrappings on her feet. She finally comes to a stop, leaning against a work bench.

"Oh... uh... I'm sorry. Now I understand why you were shy," Rolga says as she blushes and looks away. "You... uh... you can keep that on..." The dwarf says, awkwardly running her hand through her short hair.

Hilda looks at Rolga, utterly confused, until a realization hits her: The dwarf can see her diaper!

My diaper! She can see my diaper! I mean... it... it's not a diaper! I'm a big girl! Woman! I mean woman!

Hilda buries her head in her hands, her face hotter than the forge as the shame washes over her. Her eyes start to mist up and her lips begin to quiver when the poor noble feels a strong but comforting hand on her arm.

"Hey... hey, look, I'm sorry," Rolga says as she clumsily tries to comfort Hilda. "I... I didn't know."

A wimpy wail reverberates throughout the room, coming from behind Hilda's trembling hands.

"Look, it's not that big a deal," Rolga lies, trying to do something, anything to get what she believes is a poor simpleton to quiet down. "Some people just have trouble with potty training."

Hilda's crying gets even louder as the humiliated noble sinks into the deepest depths of despair. She can't even bear to pull her hands away from her face.

"P-Please! S-stop crying!" The stalwart dwarf begs, her resolve breaking faster than a badly made sword. "Oh! I-I-I can't deal with this!"

Rolga's own eyes start to mist up as she wiggles her hands uselessly in front of her face. The blacksmith has never been good with kids (or well, a weeping woman wearing a diaper, in this case).

She looks about the room for something that could help as she starts to have a panic attack.