[#255] How to Train Your Dragon

"I can't believe how lucky we got, honey, just like that."

We'd wanted a little dragon girl of our own for longer than the two of us could imagine, and the adoption papers and courts were so onerous it felt like we'd never find one. But there she was, just frolicking in the park and completely unawares. We were unsure at first, because dragons were difficult to tell the age of, but this was our lucky day and we weren't letting it go.

Sure, she did try to tell us that she wasn't a child, but all dragons more-or-less looked the same, so what was the harm? Poor sweetheart wouldn't be talking much now anyway.

Fitting that pacifier in her mouth had taken some work.  Her teeth were sharp and eager to take a bite of me.  But I'd handled her kind before.  She made up for her size with sharp nails and teeth.  Once the strap was fastened behind her head and the yellow mittens were locked securely over her hands, there was nothing else she could do.

"Now how old are you, hm?  For real?" I cooed, while my husband held her down in the back of our SUV. "Only five, or six?  I read an article once that said some dragons aren't housebroken until their teens..." Her gorgeous green eyes went wide in fear.

"I think it's really truly best to be safe, my darling, and assume for a lower end of four or five. The house is childproofed, there's little she can chew, or hurt herself on, but you know we did just get that new sofa..."

And besides, who wants to adopt a fully grown child, anyway? If we said she was four, then she was four.

With expert work, my husband stripped her of her clothes.  Her crop-top.  Her black jeans.  Her bra and panties, all too grown up for a girl her age.  We had parked our car on the far side of the lot, and no one would bother us.

I unfolded a thick, white diaper so she could see.  When she closed her eyes in protest, I knew she could still hear the crinkling.  She would get used to that sound.  Maybe we wouldn't potty train her for some time, just to get the full experience of raising a little girl.

"Shh," I said softly, as she screamed through the pacifier. "Mommy is going to take good care of you."

I lifted her legs with ease - dragon girls really were so small! - and slid the diaper under her bottom.  I applied lots of baby powder, filling the SUV with a fresh smell, and pulled the thick plastic between her legs.  With the tearing of tapes, I stuck it on perfectly.  After all, I had done this hundreds of times at work.

"There we go," I said with a cheery smile, patting the front of her diaper. "Are you ready for Daddy to put you in your new dress?  It's yellow, to match your mittens!"

The seething in her eyes had faded to hopeless, helpless whining, pleading with a gaze, but all the two of us could see was a darling little soul in search of care. Strong arms pulled her upward, standing her outside the car in just the diaper and nothing else, as her new Daddy pulled the dress down over her grey skin and tugged it into place.

Into this, in this case, meant 'not even covering her diaper, not really,' and that was quite okay. It was time to strap her down in her new car seat - but shoes would come just before that. Pretty single strap shoes, with frilly socks to boot.

As my husband drove us home, I peeked periodically into the back seat, at our new little girl.  She looked at me with fear, maybe begging me to let her go.  But what kind of Mommy would I be if I let such a young girl wander around alone?  Dressed in such a childish outfit, a diaper clearly on display between her legs, and a pacifier firmly between her lips... it was dangerous for her in the outside world.  She could get kidnapped!  Obviously, I'd never let that happen.