A Chained Dragon
Frostbite curiously scans the scenery, looking for the sorrow he had sensed. Where is it? He asked himself, getting up to scrutinize the park. He wandered for a while, finding nothing that could compare to the feeling he couldn't shake.That is, until he saw the post. A simple post, really. Nothing special about it. A sign above that read, "Leash your pet here" in big letters.The only odd thing was dragon cuffed to it. It was a dragon with deep blue scales and grand and leathery wings which had been slashed, wearing nothing but a diaper. He sat in the grass, bound to the post by a pair of cuffs linking his left ankle to the wooden plank. He looked absolutely desperate. He just sat there, a sodden look on his face. A look of defeat...Frostbite's heart nearly snapped in two. He couldn't stand the thought of acts this cruel. He approached the creature."Why are there rips in your wings?" was his first question, to which the dragon just looked away in despair, "You poor, poor thing."The dragon did his best to make eye contact with the tiger, trying his best, obviously, not to blush. He answered simply, but it was enough, "My master did this."Frostbite simply gave a blank stare for a second, processing what he had just heard. He knew of creatures, sentient, whom were treated as property. He had not, however, ever seen one. He knew immediately what he craved to do: free this dragon. He hugged the dragon out of instinct, knowing how much a simple embrace can light up someone's day. The dragon seemed grateful, "Let's get you out of here." offered Frostbite."Awwrrr, thanks!" the dragon exclaimed, accepting the embrace.Frostbite lowered his voice, whispering in the dragon's ear, "Whoever put you here is going to be so ticked." The siberian tiger's stripes then began to glow, shifting from pitch black and roaring to life with a bright icy blue. The cuff around the dragon's ankle froze instantly, and so violently so that it snapped under the intense shift in temperature. "No point in leaving any evidence." Frostbite said.The dragon stood, dusting himself, and his diaper, off. The diaper, it appeared, was still dry, but Frostbite was sure, from experience, that it would not stay that way much longer. "Does evidence really matter if they can't find us?" the dragon offered."If they find my prints, they can find me. I wouldn't underestimate any fur these days." Frostbite immediately snapped, agitated for some reason. He dismissed the thought. He held his hand waist level, offering it to the reptile, "Name's Frostbite Subzern, dimension expert. Or at least that's one thing I'm good at. A pleasure to meet you!"The dragon accepted the handshake, "Chalenor...just Chalenor, heh...and likewise!"The tiger examined Chalenor's wings, observing the tears, "I should probably get Beacon to heal your wings, but that can wait 'til we're out of sight of this place." Frostbite grabs
Chalenor by the wrist, startling the winged reptile. Their visions both went white, and Chalenor felt an immense amount of cold air as Frostbite teleported them, via condensed, evaporated air, to his "base."It really wasn't a base, as much as an attempt at a furry haven. The dragon was shivering, and nervous. They had landed in the playroom. Right where everyone was.Chalenor obviously wasn't prepared for dissipation, and seemed a bit disoriented. He suddenly got closer to Frostbite, nervously looking around, "Uh, Frostbite, where'd you take us?" he nervously inquired of the feline."I think one would recognize a playroom when they see one." Frostbite offered, "Oh, don't worry about furs staring. At least, not for the reason you think, if anything. Most, if not all, of the furs here wear diapers just like you." Chalenor immediately blushes at the mention of the absorbent undergarment he was wearing as Frostbite pulled a bright blue rubber wristband, the same color his arms were glowing, out of his pocket and handed it to the dragon. "I probably should have given this to you before I exposed you to absolute zero temperatures..."The dragon takes the wristband, putting it on his right arm as if by instinct. "What does this do? And what's this about absolute zero?""My name isn't exactly for show." Frostbite remarked, "Anyway, the wristband makes you immune to any discomforts of the cold and make you invulnerable to freezing to death. Heatstroke might have the opposite of the spectrum available, but he doesn't appear to be anywhere. Oh, there's Beacon."The fox approaches the group, his white fur almost literally glowing from how clean it is. His arms possessed, each, two golden bands of fur. One on the forearm, and the other above the elbow, halfway between the shoulder and said elbow. "Who's this Frostbite?" he inquired. After an explanation, the tiger walked off, claiming to have to tend to the "babies.""First, let's get those wings mended." Beacon placed his hands gently on the dragon's leathery wing membranes, his paws emitting a warm light. The scars immediately began to close themselves, leaving the dragons wings looking as thought they had not been scratch since hatching. The dragon gawked at his newly mended wings."Oh wow..." the dragon whispered, astonished, "Thanks so much, I really appreciate it." he smiled.Noticing how much the dragon seemed to want to hug someone, Beacon offered such an embrace, introducing himself. "Beacon Solaira, dimension expert, healer, light prodigy, etc."The dragon tightly hugs the fox with both arms and wings, catching the vulpine healer off guard. Once the hug was broken, Beacon addressed the other aspects of the dragon's appearance. "Now," he began, "let's get you some clothes..." the dragon nodded, "and, it appears, a fresh diaper." the dragon blushed."Tropic, a little help over here." Beacon called across the room. A green dragon with
white, leafy and tribal markings appeared."Whatcha need, bro?" the jade dragon asks.The healer repeats, "I need help finding some dragon clothes for Chalenor here."Tropic responds by turning to walk off, and Beacon follows, beckoning Chalenor he do the same. Chalenor follows, lagging behind a bit and letting himself be led.Beacon sticks next to the sapphire colored reptile, trying to ease his discomfort. The group walks through a hallway that is teeming with various noises from machines running to intelligent computing to a group of people arguing over how effective some poisons are. An explosion is heard, but Beacon and Tropic ignore the sound. Chalenor, however, appears to jump out of his skin."So Chalenor, tell me about your self." Beacon says, "And, if you please, start with what the heck had happened with that post." "A post?" Tropic commented, curious.The somewhat awkward-feeling dragon looks to Beacon as he is spoken to, then looks down to the floor as he continues to walk with them, blushing more at the reminder to recent memories, but attempts a response."I...erm. Well...I'm not really comfortable talking about a lot of it, but basically I was left chained there to be humiliated in public view, because my, um... the master enjoys treating his pets like that...making them do discomforting things...and he was to come back to retrieve me after an undefined period of time." He goes silent again, letting all of what he had said hang in the air, leaving space available for possible questions."Understandable, as I realize that people like that exist." Beacon says, not looking away from that spot at the end of the hall he found so interesting, "Well you're in luck. Whoever did this to you will soon be punished, and you have the pleasure of living here, if you so choose." the fox pats the dragon on the back, letting him mull over the offer as he followed Tropic into a room. The room was full of clothes for various species, as well as an entire section of the room having every possible type of diaper known to man in exceptional quantities. "A massive bonus," Tropic said, turning to the dragon, "is that we wear diapers because we want to, not because we're forced to. And you can act however you wish without fear of bullying." the dragon held up a hooded t-shirt to the dragons chest, a green one, "Whatcha think?" "Also," Beacon added, "we allow you to choose an age to start out, and whether or not you would like to age." "A pain in the ass, in my opinion." Tropic muttered, receiving a punch in the arm from Beacon. "Watch your language, Tropic, we don't want a repeat of last time." Tropic merely stuck his tongue out, showing defiance. "Heh...well, this all sounds kinda awesome, really," the dragon responds, graciously taking the offered piece of clothing and putting it on, even though it didn't do too much to hide what he was wearing between his
legs. It would seem to be alright, though, if this place was as good as it was being made out to be to him."So, wait... I can be any age?" He asks, lengthening the word "so" to take up five seconds, then blushes a little again, looking anywhere but to either of the furs' eyes. "Like, if I wanted to be something along the lines of...I dunno, six...what would that entail? Is my actual physical form altered? What about my memories and intellect: my mind's age? Will it make me act childish, or do I get to choose to do that on my own?"The shy dragon was obviously quite the curious and cautious one, needing to know things ahead of time to give himself a way to plan his path with careful thought. It's a wonder how he even ended up belonging to someone."Who's to say your mind won't regress on its own?" Beacon said."Your body regresses," Tropic continued."Why shouldn't your mind follow?" Beacon added as Tropic continued digging through the closet, their exchange of dialogue becoming cryptic in nature. Without so much as a split second of pause, they became one voice speaking one explanation. It was almost...practiced even."To answer your question," Tropic began.Beacon finished, "Your mind is not touched.""But it might follow your body,""Feeling the urge to do so,""From your altered appearance.""So," Beacon concludes, "when you get right down to it,""Whether or not your mind regresses,""Depends on how willing you are to let it.""The sentient mind's overwhelming desire to conform, present in all forms of intelligent life." Tropic finished, "If you don't mind my asking, how thick of a diaper do you plan to change into? Can't exactly find pants without adding that factor."Chalenor listens to the two as they speak off one another, almost too distracted by that fact alone to understand what they were saying. He manages to piece it all together after they finish, replaying the statements in his mind.When it came to Tropic's inquiry, Chalenor looked down, softly biting his lower lip with sharp-looking draconic teeth. "Uh, well...I was forced to be used to this thickness so that I only needed to be changed once a day, or less, depending on the assessment of its condition..." He gestures down to the garment in question with his slightly blood-flushed snout. "But it'd be nice to have something less awkward to walk with for once, so maybe...half this thickness?" "Will do!" Beacon instantly exclaims, turning to the stacks of diapers and throwing one the Chalenor, "Changing room's over there." he gestures to a door to the sapphire shaded dragon's immediate right, smiling broadly."Also, these might fit over it." Tropic added, throwing over a pair of jeans, also smiling, "They're designed to be really comfortable and are enchanted to hide even the bulkiest of diapers."The crinkly thing is caught in the dragon's clawed hand, and he nods,
grabbing the pants from the air, too, and heads at the door, as directed.Before he enters, however, he turns his head to them both. "...Thanks. For all of this, I mean. It's nice to not just be talked to through orders all the time, where I don't get a chance to respond, or ask questions...or say how I feel about something..."He trails off, looking back to the door, slowly making his way into the room to get himself changed...