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Connor groaned as he was knocked awake, blinking, he looked up at Dagia's son or at least one of them; Mail. The young wolven cub looked worried and panicked, "Connor, you wet yourself." Mail whispered as he struggled to remove the blanket bindings; while Connor looked around, it was still late in the morning.

"Mail... what are you doing up little guy it's early?" Connor yawned, covering his mouth to smother his breath.

"I'm supposed to be getting up right now Connor." Mail answered as if Connor should have known, his point becoming clearer as his powerful father sauntered into the living room wearing nothing but an old fundoshi. The bear yawned with a snarl, before sniffing the air and looking down at Connor.

"Did you piss on my couch boy?" The gruff and yawning sandpapery tone scolded, a definite bitterness on his tongue as Connor soon realized his mistake... maybe he really should have tried to hold it last night.

"Sorry sir," Connor apologized, the large male covered his muzzle scratching the seam between his eyes, "I couldn't get free," Connor answered as he tried to get up, and found that he could, his heart sank in his chest, and he paled as he looked at the wet blanket between his legs and the quite plainly soaked fabric... He was free, Mail had just set him free, but his father didn't know that.

"Connor!" Dagia exclaimed like a flustered mother as she adjusted Hammond in her arms, the small cub whined at the booming echo in his ear. Handing off youngest son to her mate Dagia strut closer, not storming, but clearly stepping with authority and intention as she approached, "I asked you if you needed a diaper, you said you could be a big boy and use the potty," Dagia shook her head, putting on a masterful act, full of half-truths since she was the one who caused his 'accident' in the first place, "You ruined the couch, and this blanket, I'm never going to get your scent off of it!"

"Dagia, isn't that my blanket?" The father asked as Dagia picked up the stained pale brown blanket, "He needed it more than you Atix." Dagia countered, and the bear stiffened his gaze sharpening, visibly pissed, much like the visible dripping puddle on the blanket.

"Mail, why don't you and Connor use the shower first, and if you could, it would be a great help if you could put him in a diaper for me..." Dagia directed as Mail nodded taking Connor's forearm, to help him up off the couch, Connor shivered, clenching in pain as it still felt the bruises from yesterday's beating on his back. He shook his head, "Dagia, please, I can take care of myself."

Dagia leaned forward, "What was that Connor? You can take care of yourself? You called me for help last night. Not only that, but I changed you the day before because you couldn't do that for yourself, and now you soil my furniture!... It's quite clear to me that you can't, so till you can, Mail is going to help me take care of you. As your protector, it's his job... Now, don't make a fuss, and do as he says, when he says it, or I will punish you as I would any disobedient cub; is that clear?!" Dagia snapped, her words like a barrage of arrows that rained down on Connor, he couldn't defend himself from the blows, they crippled him and left him quiet, nearly whispering as he nodded, "Crystal Ma'am..."

"Good, now Mailance go clean up your new little brother." Dagia ordered sending them off with a wave of her hand, Connor shivered at what Dagia said, 'little brother,' nothing good ever came out of those words.

"Are we adopting Connor mom?... because he doesn't have a family anymore?" Mail asked quietly, whispering, seeming to try and speak over Connor's head as if he was some kind of feral dog found on the side of the road.

"Only while Connor stays with us, and until I can figure out what to do with him... It's clear to me that he needs to be closely guarded, he's weak, and helpless, like a cub... Clearly.." Dagia exhaled bitterly as she held up the ruined blanket. "So he'll need a big brother to keep him in line, so being that you agreed to be his protector, it'll be your job to make sure he doesn't make a mess or get into trouble."

Mail's tail wagged, his muzzle brightening up with a warm white fanged smile, "So I'm his Ward?"

Dagia was taken back by the sudden comment and fell silent, almost contemplating the idea, before smiling and nodding, "You know, Mail, you aren't wrong; so yes, I guess you are his Ward. But being someone's Ward is a big responsibility, do you think you can handle it?" Dagia agreed as if handing over the reins of control to her son.... Wait... did Dagia just make Mail his babysitter?

"Yes ma'am. I'll won't let anything bad happen to Connor." Mail saluted, with a rigid, militaristic presence. Dagia seemed almost impressed with her son's diligence, looking down at him as if he had just grown three years older in her eyes. She swooned like a bashful mother, hugging the blanket until she felt the wet spot and cringed, tossing it back onto the couch, the warmth fading from her eyes as he looked at Connor, and then down at Mail.

"Mail, Connor has been very childish, wetting himself, and peeing on the furniture, so being that you're his Ward. How do you think he should be punished?" Dagia asked, clearly directing the conversation to some kind of end, but leaving her statement open for Mail to interpret as he wanted.

"Well, you said Connor already needs to wear diapers, so maybe he needs to be potty trained?" Mail so innocently answered, looking up at Connor as if he was some kind of puppy, not a human who had a voice, something that Connor seemingly lost throughout the conversation. "Do you want to be potty trained Connor, or do you want to continue wearing diapers?"

Connor shot arrows with his eyes as he glanced at Dagia, who smiled clearly proud of herself, but Connor grimaced, feeling like nothing more than a child as he answered, "Please potty train me Mail."

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up then." Mail approved with his adorable and innocent canine smile; it made Connor feel disgusting; it felt so wrong to let such a young, well-mannered kid take control. Especially since the demented witch knew he was doing it on purpose, and that he wore diapers for fun and sexual fascination. However, Connor steeled himself, things would only get worse if he made a scene, so he might as well place 'house' with Mail; after all it wouldn't be hard to play along, it'd just be humiliating.

"Mail..." Dagia called out from the living room, waving the cub down. Mail obliged, leaving Connor alone in the dark hallway; Connor watched as his Dagia leaned down and whispered things in her son's ear, pointing at Connor, glancing at him. Her smile growing wider as her son's energy built, the small pup almost bouncing with excitement until Dagia tapped his head to send him off with quiet praise. Mail stiffened up, still smiling, and carried himself as if he was some kind of noble, with power and pride in every step.

Connor could hear the restrained exhale, as Mail brushed the wrinkles out of his blue and black striped underwear, the only thing he was wearing, before grabbing Connor's wrist. His hold like steel as he looked up at Connor, pulling, more like dragging the Connor forward, "Come on Little Dagger, let's go get you cleaned up." A warm authority hanging on Mail's smiling fangs as he looked up at Connor, someone who internally whined, whimpering in fear as Mail looked just like his mother with his terrifying kind grin.

The white door, to a pastel yellow and white accented bathroom, closed with a light slam and locked, with a push of a button. The resounding click making the spacious bathroom feel more like a prison cell. "Off the mat Connor... you're a mess." Mail scolded, pushing Connor by the hips until he was off the fluffy floor towel in front of the sink and inside the shower, and before Connor could even flinch his underwear and pajama pants were at his ankles.

Connor snapped his hands to his crotch, the chastity cage still wrapped around his member because he had left before letting Newport take it off. His face blossomed into a stifled pink, as Connor was directed out of the soiled pants and underwear, both of which were thrown in the trash, and not the plastic tan hamper beside the shower. He knew he might not ever wear underwear with Dagia around, but come on... he loved those pants... "Mail, can I wash my-?"

"Connor... mom told me you don't get to do anything unless I say you can. You need to be punished, you ruined the couch; Mom's going to have to buy a new one now because of you." Mail halted, leaving no room for Connor to protest under the cubs scolding finger.

"Fine... I'm sorry, but do you have to throw away my pants?" Connor found himself begging, Mail's natural command and confidence leaving him weak limbed, feeling somewhat hopeless in front of the smaller male.

"Well, you should have thought about that before making such a mess Connor; now, on your knees. I need to wash you." Mail ordered, Connor reluctantly submit, using one hand to steady himself as he got to his knees, his legs feeling like the might give out at any moment.

Connor averted his gaze from the young gray furred gentiles now hanging in full display, as Mail tossed his underwear into the hamper before stepping around Connor to pull the showerhead off the wall and turn on the water. But just as the water warmed up, for a single moment, Connor felt Mail's presence change, he seemed to become dreary; glancing over his shoulder, Connor looked at the small male.

Mail was staring at his back, seemingly wounded by the very sight himself, it wasn't pitying... it looked more like shame and disgust, "Who beat you Connor?" Mail asked a gentle hand rubbing one of the bruises, making Connor cringe, contorting in pain, stealing a short breath from between his teeth.

"My dad... he disowned me," Connor answered, looking back at Mail, who came up behind him, shaking his head as he reached out and massaged Connor's shoulder, slowly teasing the warm water upon Connor's back; the rhythmic motions feeling trained... This wasn't the first time Mail had bathed another person.

"Why did your father disown you... did you fail at something? Were you not strong enough to take on your father's legacy?" Connor timidly shook his head, the soft gesture barely a motion, his eyes falling; he did feel like a failure. He had never wanted to make his parents angry, but yet there he was dating a Mincridarn and practicing magic. His mind was torn in two, torn by the pain of feeling pathetic, like a horrible son, while the other cried out in protest; he wasn't a failure, there is nothing he could have done to avoid this, and that's ok. There is nothing to be sad about, to feel shamed or pathetic about, it was either break their hearts or shatter his own.

Connor wanted to smile, he was finally free, but the pain washing over his back and spine only reminded him of what he had done to get there, to be free; the injuries felt earned. Tears forming at the edges of his eyes were washed away when the showerhead rained down on him.

"There are only two reasons combat should be used," Mail sighed as he started to rub soap into Connor's hair, "To train and become better than oneself... and to protect those that cannot protect themselves. What your father did, is disgusting Connor, it's an insult to martial arts, and I hope the underworld swallows his soul and never spits it out." The pride and warm fatherly energy rolled off Mail like a tidal wave; he was so grown up. Connor couldn't help but laugh at Mail's pleasant presence, quickly cringing in pain as his rib didn't like that one bit.

It was so strange, Mail really did make Connor feel so small and helpless, a twenty-two your old adult being bathed and tended to by what was maybe an eight/nine-year-old cub. It felt nice, but also wrong, Connor should be washing himself, and taking care of himself, but no, he didn't have a choice. Mail was his Ward until everything was healed and fixed, whatever that meant...

"Mail... what is a Ward?" Connor asked as Mail started to softly wash his back, using the faintest pressure and only his fingertips.

"A Ward is a guard that normally protect nurseries and hospitals and helps the caretakers and healers as needed. Mommy is your caretaker, but it's my job to keep you safe, and out of trouble, so till your all better, I'll be here to help mom take care of you." Mail recited as if he was reading definition from a dictionary, his tail wagging excitement, and warm smile exposing his age.

Pleasantries were dashed and slaughtered as small hands wrapped around Connor's chest to rub a pine-scented soap into his skin with a thick bristled brush. "Hey, I can wash it!" Connor cried out, trying to grab at the bush, but his hand was thumped with the sharp spiny boar bristle brush; he might as well have been smacked by a hundred needles.

"No, I'm washing you, and you're going to sit still and let me wash you, now get on your hands and elbows." Mail scolded, pushing Connor down by the gap of his neck, whining as his skin was pinched between two sharp claws; he had to obey.

Connor now was positioned like nothing more than a wild animal, but worse yet, it looked like he was presenting himself, thanks to the knocked-in elbows forcing him to raise his hips. Mail brushed off the position, never knowing how much the vulgar position made his Connor's face burn, turning pink as Connor gasped as he felt his legs get kicked open to expose his groin.

The warm water trickled down Connor's ass as it was brushed profusely with the dense brush, Connor cringed as it the sharp bristles stroked the tainted back entrance. "Sorry, but you peed yourself, so now I got to make sure I really clean you up, or you'll smell like a potty." Mail cooed as if he was talking to a feral pup, it was a one-sided comfort that only grew more depraved as the bristled ran down Connor's taint, and up along his balls to scrub at his tender chastised flesh.

Connor's face felt like it was on fire, as Mail's small warm wet hand pulled up the cage between his legs; Mail examined the metal contraption, seeming to contemplate it for a moment. "Did mom put you in this last night? I didn't know you were that kind of naughty too. Mom used to put these metal sheaths on her slaves when they wouldn't stop touching themselves. Have you been avoiding work to play with yourself Connor?" Mail asked, but once again a subtly to his voice reached out and muzzled Connor, he wasn't being spoken to, he was being talked down too.

Connor sharply inhaled, reaching back to protect his caged privates, as Mail stroked them clean. "Elbows on the floor Connor," Mail ordered, flicking the brush in his hand to flip it up and bring it down with a sharp smack on Connor's left butt cheek. The swift blow made him cry out in protest. The strength and power behind the strike made Connor feel the blowdown to his pelvis and wrap up around his right cheek.

Pitiful whines escaped Connor's throat before he was spanked again, this time on the right cheek, "Don't make me ask Connor again, put your elbows on the floor. I need to clean you up, and I can't do that with your hand in the way." Connor only obeyed to be spared from further spanking. This wasn't Mail's first time spanking someone, there was a subtle art to spanking, and it felt like he had already mastered it. Mail's blows were correctly marked by the red welts on Connor's ass, each one symmetrically centered on each half.

Connor exhaled, dropping his head in tight-lipped protest as he was scrubbed clean. But Mail was nowhere near done because once Connor's ass was done, his legs and thighs were brushed and washed, all the way down to his ankles. Pulled up to sit on his ankles, Connor's chest and arms were scrubbed clean. Connor was a voiceless body, only obeying his tiny protector, sitting patiently and obediently as his new Ward bathed him and then himself without shame or tact.

Mail's small loins bobbed and swayed about in front of Connor like a sinful fruit, Connor could avert his gaze, but the thick scent of wet fur ran up his noes and always pulled his attention back. "It's big isn't it?" Mail asked, swaying his loins in front of Connor's face with a laugh, patting Connor's head. "Jealous that I'm bigger than you?"

"You're not bigger... I'm just... not excited." Connor countered, shameful of his own defense because he shouldn't be talking about things like that to a cub.

"Hmm..." Mail fell silent as he looked down at Connor, examining his face, "Connor, are you feeling ok? Your face is red, and your forehead feels really warm. I wonder if you have a fever." Mail questioned as he pat Connor's forehead with only his fingertips. His playful energy being replaced by a general worry as he hung up the showerhead.

"Let's get you out of this hot water before you get any hotter." Mail directed as he helped Connor stand on a floor towel before drying him up. Connor cupped his masculinity to hide it from Mail's prying eyes since it was now at the perfect muzzle height, something Mail didn't seem to care about. Sitting Connor down on a large rimmed toilet, something designed for large breed Mincridarins like Mail's broad father, he dried Connor's back and pat his chest dry.

"Connor, I want you to try and use the potty while I dry off because once I'm done, I'm going to put you into your diaper." Mail pressed with pats on Connor's knees.

"Can I please use a pull-up so I can use the bathroom when I need too?" Connor asked, begging like a child to an adult.

"Connor, mom, and I can't trust you to not make a mess, so we have to keep you in diapers. Don't worry, we have some diapers that are very easy to take off and on again. So if you need to use the bathroom, just tell me, and I'll take care of it." Mail assured, shaking his head to rebuff Connor's begging pleas; Connor was never going to win with Mail, not when his mother seemed to have a hand in it. So Connor accepted his diapered fate with a nod, "Ok... fine."

Mail's "Good-boy" couldn't have been any more condescending as he smiled and walked away to go dry off, an endeavor all on its own because of all the towel drying, brushing and blow-drying. However, Connor did his best to not watch and use the bathroom as asked, but he couldn't, now with every adjustment being listened to with spiked ears, and an overseeing gaze; in the end, Connor couldn't add anything to the water below him.

"Did you go, potty?" Mail cooed as he rubbed Connor's thighs like a dutiful father.

"No... I couldn't." Connor answered, barely able to muster up that much to answer Mail; could he be any more pathetic?

"That's ok, you did make a huge mess this morning, so maybe that's where all of it went." Mail assured, smiling off the tension as he took Connor's hands to lead him out of the bathroom and into a nursery.

It was a play space, probably for Dagia's clients, with hardwood floors, a padded brightly colored jigsaw play mat, and toy chest, bookshelves, and changing table. Connor was laid down on the playmat in the center of the blue walled room, and beneath a cloud painted ceiling.

"All comfortable?" Mail asked, looking down at Connor from between his legs, a giddy energy crossing muzzle, with a warmth that made Connor shiver; it was the look of someone who was handling a child.

"Yes..." Connor mumbled, earning him a patted praise on his knees.

"Good, now do you know you're diaper size? Or at least your waist size?" Mail asked probing Connor with gentle energy; Mail must have helped Dagia watch cubs before because there didn't seem to be a wrong way to answer. Connor felt like he could even say 'no,' and Mail wouldn't hold it against him.

"Thirties fit me nicely." Connor answered, and Mail nodded with smiling approval, "Alright, let's see what we have in your size." Walking away, humming Connor's answer as he went to a sliding closet door, undoing a feeble latch before sliding it open to expose a literal wall of diapers. A boxed shelving unit, floor to ceiling was filled, almost packed with padding of all sizes, from newborn to toddlers and maybe a few beyond that.

Mail climbed this wall of disposable padding, skimming over the taped shelves for the proper size until he came to one of the rare empty shelves, "I think Mom just ran out of your size, let me go and check..." Mail hopped down with a soft thud, walking to the door as he waved a short goodbye from the doorway, "So don't move, I'll be right back."

Connor couldn't even usher a comment before the door was closed, leaving him in the isolated space feeling vulnerable and small; he had to wait to be changed by someone less than three times his age, maybe. It left him queasy, in a sick way, because he liked it. Connor knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to be treated like this, it didn't make his cock bounce or drip, but it did make him happy; part of him even wishing it wouldn't end. However, Connor shook off those perverse thoughts; it was wrong and illegal, especially with Mail watching over him. So no matter how good it felt, Connor steeled himself, trying to regain some semblance of self back as he waited.

The door opened, and Mail came in with a Bear Paw in hand, along with what seemed like a diaper stuffer, "You're lucky Connor, mom had a spare in her bag," Mail exhaled in relief as he picked up a white painted wicker basket from the side of the changing table and dropped it beside Connor's hip, before pushing Connor's legs apart. Smacking Connor's hands away from his caged cock, mail shook his head, "I've already seen your metal sheath Connor; there is no need to hide it."

"Why do you have a diaper stuffer?" Connor asked as he pulled his hands up, laying them on his chest to keep them out of the way.

"So you know what this is?" Mail asked with a laugh as he exposed the adhesive on the paddings back and laid it down in the open diaper, "Mom said you might not even know what this is, but mom wants me to put one in your diaper because of how big your messes can be." Mail explained as he patted Connor's hip, "Butt up a little dagger." He directed with gentle smacks, Connor lifted his hips and then dropped them down on to warm thick padding; with practice motions, no moment was spared as Connor's hips were oiled, powdered, and tied up with thick brown tapes. The fitting was checked and pulled to make it all comfortable; it was a perfect tight fit, beautiful and symmetrical, nothing hugged or pulled too tightly. "How does that feel, Connor? Nice and comfy?" Mail asked, patting the diaper front.

"Yeah... You're really good at this."

"Thank you Little Dagger, that means a lot. I help mom watch the little ones when she's busy cooking or taking calls for work." Mail cooed, his cheery energy echoing in his sweeping tail, as he cleaned his hands and took care of the trash. Helping Connor up from the floor, he patted the butt, "You look good in diapers by the way Little Dagger."

"Thanks..." Connor breathed, not really sure on how he should take the compliment.

"Come on, let's get you some breakfast." Mail pulled forward, directing Connor with a smile as he pulled him out of the nursery.

"Wait, what about clothes? Can I at least wear something?"

"We don't have anything that would fit you, and plus clothes would only hide any accidents you make." Mail shook off, ignoring Connor almost entirely as he dragged him to the living room where the entire sofa was missing, and sitting on the back porch.

Dagia huffed, smacking her hands clean as she came in through the back door, pulling the screen closed. She didn't look angry, but she didn't look pleased either as she glared at Connor sitting patiently at the Iron Tower bark dining table. "Sorry..." Connor only mumbled, falling prey to her dominating gaze as she walked past him to wash her hands in the sink, looking down at his lap, and nothing else as quiet conversation echoed from the kitchen.

"Mom, can you check Connor's temperature? He feels hot?"

"Mail, you were just in the shower-."

"Please, mom, I don't want Connor to get sick." Mail pressed like a dutiful cubsitter.

"Alright, give me a second." Dagia agreed, with a sigh as she dried her hands, folding up the towel as she came up beside Connor, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Laying her palm over his forehead, Daiga's brows raised in shock, "Connor, you are warm, are you feeling ok?" Dagia's surprise didn't seem to be apart of her plan, and it left Connor unsettled as he shook his head; he felt fine; he didn't feel sick or too warm. "I feel fine Ma'am."

"Are you sure Connor?" Dagia patted her son's head, "Good job Mail, I'll take care of Connor while you go get dressed." The small pup nodding silently before jogging to his room.

"Yes Dagia. I'm sure, are you sure it's not just the hot shower?" Connor asked, and Dagia nodded, as she walked into the living room and opened a small cabinet on the entertainment unit across from the now empty floor, exposing a short supply of cub sitting supplies.

"Connor, I am a fire mage, I can tell the difference between you're skin being hot and you're organs being warm, but this will help to make sure," Dagia explained as she came back to Connor with a long thermometer in hand.

"If I'm sick, wouldn't I feel it?" Connor asked, and Dagia shook her head, as she sat down beside Connor, pushing back her seat, "No, you probably wouldn't. The bandages wrapping your chest are enchanted to suppress persistent pain, as well as heal you. You really could be sick and not even feel it." Dagia explained as she pulled Connor onto her lap before laying him out on his back, forcing him to look up at her... "What are you doing? Don't-." Connor found the answer to the strange predicament as he diaper was kicked up between his legs.

"Sit still, and don't make a fuss Connor. This'll just take a moment." Dagia pressed, alongside the tip of the thermometer, the glass appendage efficiently sinking into Connor's ass, thanks to all of the practice he had before. But for such a small object, it felt so large and intrusive as it sank into him. He had dog dongs, barbed cat cocks, and ribbed reptiles inside of him; none of the dildos were nothing to scoff at or small.

But this little situation Connor now found himself in with his legs propped up Dagia's arms was strange, he had never once had someone else control how deep or how fast something went inside of him. Everything was his doing; everything was to his speed, and merely having someone else control such things made him feel vulnerable, good, but vulnerable. So even with such a small glass intrusion, Connor found himself dipping with excitement. Thankfully his padding absorbed it, the very idea of Dagia finding out... it wasn't a pleasant thought.

Then slowly, the pressure fell away, Connor exhaled, gripping back his pleasure as he was finally relieved of the intrusion, the diaper being pulled back over his hindquarters; his legs allowed to relax as Dagia inspected the glass tool. "What is Common for human temperature?"

"ninety-seven-ninety-nine."

"Celsius?"

"You use a metric?"

"It's easier to learn."

"I... I don't know. Can I have my phone so I can look it up?" Connor asked as Dagia sat Connor in his chair. "You haven't earned your phone privileges."

"But-" Dagia cut him short as she picked up his phone from the countertop just tucked inside of the kitchen. "Connor, this isn't up for debate, and plus, you're parents canceled your phone number. You aren't getting data anymore. So it's useless to you anyways, until you get a new card." Dagia finished as she picked up a lavender-colored phone case, hers.

"They didn't waste any time doing that." Connor exhaled, leaning on the table, his parents were really cutting every facet of his life from their lives, a sickening pain stabbed him in his gut. "Dagia, I have to get to Reinheart's Federal Reserves, my parents are going to take everything from me, all the money I earned... if they haven't done so already." Connor cried out as he got up from his seat. "I have thousands of dollars I've been saving up for years... they're going to steal everything from me."

"Connor... Take a breath, this is probably why you are sick right now. You're stressed, and your body is fatigued." Dagia countered, pushing Connor back into his chair. "I understand you're fear, and I'll do what I can to help. But for now, you need to take a breath. What do you want to eat for breakfast?"

That wasn't reassuring confidence, and Connor barely shook of his terror with his breath. "I don't know... I'm not really hungry."

"I promise everything is going to be fine, Connor, just let Aunt Dagia take care of this." Dagia hugged, pulling Connor into her neck as she wrapped her arms around Connor's stomach, holding him closer. He felt her fur, it was warm, and he loved how coarse and soft it was, Connor couldn't stop himself from rubbing his face into it. However, when Dagia held him, why did he actually feel like he was loved? He had been hugged by friends and family before, but with them... he had never felt their love, the embrace just felt hollow. Dagia though, Connor could feel her passion, and it was warm, and rolling like a warm sea wind.

Dagia's hug was enough to make Connor smile, and lean into her, "ok... ok.." Connor accepted, holding onto Dagia until she pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on his ear.

"Good-boy." Dagia cooed with a condescending smile as she walked back to the kitchen, "Just sit still Connor; I'll make you a morning shake."

"Yeah... ok." Connor nodded as he settled back into his chair to relax, closing his eyes just to breathe and disconnect from reality for a moment until he heard the whirring of a blender and the scrape of a dining chair beside him.

"Connor, are you ok?" Mail asked, just as Connor opened his eyes to look down at the little 'sir,' dressed so formally in a small little gray uniform, a button-down vest, and slacks, with a red shoulder-length cape, bordered in gold velvet and embroidered with a striking yellow thread shield-shaped crest. Mail looked like a knight in silver fabric with a short sword hanging from his hip. His small hand reached out to hold Connor's elbow, just trying to keep him close.

"I don't know..." Connor exhaled, trying to smile but found the motion unbearable and let his face fall.

"Connor has a temperature, thirty-nine point two, he's going to need plenty of rest, and to avoid stress Mail," Dagia added, as she handed Mail a green shake, while Connor rolled his eyes; how the hell was he ever going to relax with Dagia constantly toying with him?

"Here you go, Connor, try and not to make a mess, I know you like to make those." Dagia chuckled as she handed over a sippy cup with a wide opening; the tall and thick blue mug was definitely made for Hammond, not him. Connor wanted to speak up, but he didn't, he just sighed and started drinking, it's not like it would matter anyway.

The bitter green mix was only softened with the taste of lemon, ginger and lime, and just a hint of honey. "And Mail, Connor does have a fever, so I want you to make sure he's getting enough fluids. That does mean he will have to go to the potty a lot if you keep him full, so be considerate even if it's annoying. Connor can't control when he has to go," Dagia explained as she laid out toast for everyone on small plates, a thick and heavy-looking loaf filled with seeds and grains.

"I understand Mom, I'll keep him full."

"Mail, remember it's just as dangerous to have too much water than not enough, so don't force Connor to drink more than he can, a cup an hour should be a healthy amount," Dagia instructed, but in a list kind of fashion, was she not planning on being home? Well... she probably isn't going to be back for some time because of Connor. "So at school.." Connor spat up his drink, coughing as he looked at Dagia.

"School! What do you mean, School?! I can't go to school with Mail!"

Dagia flicked the sweet drink from her hand, before getting up to get a washcloth to take care of Connor's mess, "Connor, I'm not going to be at home today, Atix, my mate will be busy on guard duty. Hammond and Mailance are both going to school. I don't want you here all alone since you have a custom of making messes wherever you go." Dagia stiffly declared as she wiped down the table in such an exaggerated manner; as if to prove her point

"Sorry..."

"Sorry, isn't enough, Connor, you're sick and injured, and you are in no condition to be left alone. So, while Mail is attending classes, I was going to have the nurse watch you or one of our familiar 'friends' from the other day. You remember Falis, the horned owl? He teaches Mail's class." Dagia distinctly pointed out; however, for all the subtle, playful, flirtatious comments, when Dagia finally shut her muzzle, falling silent for a moment, even she looked worried herself, and it didn't seem like a trick of the light.

"But I can't go to school like this?" Connor sadly accepted, not because he wasn't going to escape Dagia's playful clutches, but because she seemed to have a genuine care for his well-being. It was strange, his birth mother took care of him, raised him, and cared about him, at least before all of this Mincridarn chaos; but Dagia was different. Connor didn't have to hide anything from her, it's not like he could anyways, but that didn't matter, because he felt like he could trust her with anything.

"Master Newport will drop off something for you to wear soon enough." Dagia so simply said, and Connor flinched nearly spitting up his drink again, thankfully he was able to catch it in his hand this time.

Connor shook his head, stunned by the open betrayal, "Master Newport is coming here? I thought you said I would have sometime before I saw him again... I can't let him see me like this. If he saw me like this... 'He'll' kill my parents." Connor countered as Dagia reached out and stroked his bruised cheek, the subtle painful pressure helping direct his head.

"Connor, Master Newport already knows about everything that happened. I called him after I found you, he came over to see you while you were still unconscious. If he killed your parents their already starting to rot by now." Dagia answered so matter of factly, but her warm tone was nothing good, and it made Connor want to call his parents just to make sure they were safe. He may not love them, but Connor didn't want them dead either.

"But-..."

Dagia shook her head, "Master Newport already knows to stay away, he's trying to give you the space you asked for, and to make things right; he won't come inside." Dagia jostled Connor's hair around to dress it ever so slightly and give it a simple part down the side of his head, "So just drink and eat Connor, don't worry about anything, everything will be fine."

"Yes Ma'am." Connor yawned, a familiar lethargic lack of energy washing over him as he breathed, continuing to eat his very early morning meal.

"Are you tired Connor?" Mail asked, knuckle tapping Connor's arm to grab his attention.

"Yeah... I didn't get much sleep last night..."

"Because you made such a big mess." Mail reached, but Connor shook his head, "No... I've never slept on my back before."

"So, you normally sleep in your mess?" Mail questioned, and Connor fumed as he wasn't winning anything with his feeble defense.

"Why are you up so early for school anyways, Mail? It's the middle of summer break, you should be having fun and relaxing." Connor questioned, willing to say anything to change the topic, he couldn't stand talking about his bedwetting to a cub; let alone the cub taking care of him.

"You don't know, do you?" Dagia cut in, pulling Connor's attention back towards the mother.

"Know what Dagia?"

"We don't follow the same rules as Americans, we follow the guidelines of what is to be taught, but we Mincridarns govern our own board of education. Schooling never ends for a Mincridarn until they complete there K through twelve classes. Mail here has been in school for two years, but he's already on par with many American sixth graders, and he'll be taking the seventh-grade merit test by the end of the week."

Connor's mind was reeling from the staggering amount of information, "What... How does any of that work? What about burnout, working kids like that has to be illegal in some way?"

"Connor, Mincridarn children are required to go to school and pass the same test as any modern-day school. That is our only guidelines, unlike American schools, we don't educate through an entire school year, we spend two months going over the basic material, and repeat that as many times as necessary. There is no set a date for a cub to leave a grade level or take their final exams, that is all on them. They take it when their ready, even if that is a week into lessons or three months after starting. As long as they pass the standardized exams, then they move on." Dagia explained, but Connor shook his head.

"That must make Classes a mess, all kids coming and going on the daily."

"All educational classes are open to the public, no child is barred from being in one class or being in another; it's up to the duty of the child to attend and follow the lessons. Regardless of what class therein, the material is always the same. Just the Trainers are different. All trainers are capable of teaching more than one grade level at a time. Falis, for example, teaches fourth grade up to eighth, by American standards."

"That's insane... what about projects and homework, quizzes, and tests?" Connor asked, and Dagia waved him off, "Those are American innovations, we don't see the need for such rudimentary practices, we teach long enough as is, and they only get in the way and waste time."

"How long are the classes?" Connor asked, feeling almost obligated to ask, part of him wondering if he needed to blow the whistle on this educational chaos.

"All primary Trainers teach for thirteen hours a day, while assistants like me, switch in and out every four hours."

"Thirteen hours... That's fucking insane, Dagia, that's too much, those cubs must be dead by the time they leave class." Connor was aptly thumped in the jaw, "Don't make me use soap Connor to wash that disgusting vulgar mouth of yours." Connor instantly shut down as he put his hands in his lap, restraining himself as he nodded.

"Sorry... I'm just so confused, how does anything like that work?" Connor asked, and Dagia pulled back her hand.

"Don't you humans have martial arts studios?" Connor nodded, "Well we teach in the same way, the lessons are repeated on a schedule, cubs come and go as they please, it's their job to study the material and finish. All that is different is that we teach science and math, not how to fight. Which no cub is allowed to do until they finish school. Separating their focus so much robs them of what is necessary."

Connor rubbed his face, traumatized by the idea of being around cubs for thirteen hours, Six to friken seven at night. "So, I'm going to be stuck at the elementary school for thirteen hours?"

"Hopefully so, Mail needs to study for his up and coming test; but as your Ward, it's his choice to decide when to leave." Dagia nodded, smiling at her son, who was more than happy to hear the title once again.

"Great..." Connor sighed, sucking on his sippy cup until his elbow was smacked of the table by Mail, "Don't lean on the table Connor, it's not proper." Mail scolded, the spitting image of his mother, Connor rolled his eyes as he leaned back into his chair... today was going to be a fucking treat.

Atix and Hammond soon came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing, but were both completely dry and brushed. Atix's damning gaze compressed Connor as he watched the human drink from the sippy cup-like some kind of dancing fool. Dagia left, and the father's presence only became more intense, as Connor sat up to look at formal as he could in a diaper. He looked like the most infantile person at the table, not even Hammond was drinking out of a sippy cup, but a glass cup and a straw, standing up on the chair just to drink.

Connor couldn't even look at Atix in the eyes, as the bore down on him like diamond-tipped drill bits, his mere gaze made Connor's shoulder sore. Atix didn't even look down to drink his breakfast smoothie, making him look like an idiot as he struggled to find the straw with his muzzle, but he was staring like a hunter tracking prey. Nothing else mattered but the line up for the final blow. Connor needed escape, he couldn't stand the father's raging gaze anymore, so Connor looked down at his little Ward, for help.

"Mail..." Connor whispered, hating himself for even thinking like this, "I need to use the bathroom now."

"Do you have to go now?" Mail asked, whispering in return to keep the matter as private as possible. "Well, ...no.." Connor exhaled, he felt like he was lying to a cop, abusing Mail just to get away from his overbearing dad. "Then finish your breakfast, you need to drink everything, you need your fluids."

Connor sighed as he continued drinking, "Yes sir." The formality escaping Connor's lips before he could stop himself. Though the moment he did, he cringed feeling Mail's presence build like an electrical charge before a deadly surge. Mail said nothing, but he fawned over the formality like a deranged fangirl.

Connor could already tell he was never going to live that down, and it was going to bite him in the ass hard, the consequences already rearing its head as the father laughed, of all things. His single burst of pleasure echoing through the room, as he smacked Connor's shoulder, nearly slamming Connor into the floor. "You really are a pathetic weak spined cub aren't you, my boy is clearly twice the male you'll ever be."

Connor's faced burned with shame and embarrassment as he steadied himself under the massive paw that stiffened on his shoulder, "I thought you were a beaten male trying to live off my mate like a disgusting bug, but clearly, she was right. You're nothing but a diaper-wearing cub, aren't you? Someone who needs a brood mother and someone to swaddle you and tuck you in at night.." The father continued to badger with a bouncing laugh as he pulled his hand away. "Maybe you need those diapers more than I thought... Do you even want to be potty trained Connor?"

"Yes..." Connor mumbled, feeling like an honest joke under the Atix's debasing praise... Not for Connor, of course, it was general pride geared towards his son, who did and said nothing to stop his father.

"Really... Is that really what you want? Don't you like being coddled and tucked in at night? Dagia told me all about your strange little fantasies with your master; I thought she was joking... Clearly, I was wrong, you want to be the runt of a pack... You like it, don't you?" A sharp pinch of a claw cutting into his shoulder told Connor not to lie.

"A little--" Connor cringed, tearing up from the sharp dug into his flesh, "Yes... I like being treated like a cub...."

"Thought so..." Atix smiled as he got up from his seat, taking Connor's sippy cup. "In that case, I don't know why you're drinking out of this, you need a proper bottle."

Connor couldn't watch the bear dump out the excess from his cup and wash it down the drain before rinsing it out, drawers and cabinets opened, the refrigerator... and then finally his new breakfast was slammed down in front of him. Atix was standing behind him as he sat a tall glass bottle of milk on the table in front of Connor, "It's cold, so you don't fall asleep... Go ahead and drink it up, or do you want me to bottle feed you?"

There was only silence, as Connor picked up the bottle, it was cold, frigid even, Connor nearly brought it to his lips until Mail stopped him, reaching out and holding his arm down. "Dad, don't be mean.." Mail scolded, his father huffing in protest, "Connor... do you really like being treated like a cub?" Mail directly asked.

Connor looked down at the young wolf beside him and nodded, what the hell was the point of lying anymore when every Mincridarn seemed to find a way to drag out every aspect of his being into the light. The idea of being treated like a baby, let alone a cub had always bothered Connor, but he wasn't turned off by it, he hated it, but he fantasized about it at times too, but it felt wrong. More so then just wearing diapers and using them, it was a primal urge he didn't want to accept because the very idea of doing any of it, made him cringe in shame. The babbling, the lack of control and mobility, the freely relieved personal autonomy, it felt wrong to do any and all of that; but something deep inside of him still loved every aspect of it.

"Connor... Look at me and tell me yourself." Mail pressed, pulling Connor's face towards him, "I want to hear you say it for yourself, do you like being treated like a cub?" Mail looked just like Master Newport when he asked that, small but filled with a regal authority... and someone he wanted to trust, but couldn't for a multitude of reasons, most of all because it felt wrong to do so.

"I like being treated like a cub Mail," Connor answered, turning away with shame when he answered... "I don't know why I do... I just...ever since my older brother died, it's like I haven't had a family. My parents blamed me for his death as much as magic and Mincridarins... I never felt like I had a home after that, but when... I'm treated like a cub... I feel like a belong somewhere... like I have a family again." Connor exhaled, sniffling sharply because as he spoke, the words tumbled out of him from a place he had no idea existed; but it was all true. Why was he kidding himself for so long, his parents hated him, they smiled, but they didn't care; they were all too happy to kick him out once he started living on campus. They wanted to get rid of him, this Mincridarn crap was just the finale excuse to kick him out for good.

And now, Connor was really nothing more than a child, crying like a whimpering toddler, wearing nothing but a diaper, and holding a bottle. Gods, he hated how he looked, but why did he still love it so much, why couldn't he look at himself in the mirror and smile? This was who he was; this is what he liked? Why did any of it have to feel so damn wrong all the time?

"Come here, Connor... it's ok." Atix breathed, the patronizing happiness cutaway with a warm and softer tone, as the large male picked up Connor, and carried him away to a nearby chair. Connor felt so weak and helpless, he couldn't even hold the bottle; it cracked, bounced, rolling along the floor, spreading a fine arching white line.

Atix grunted, sitting in the cramped chair before pulling the human closer and into his shoulder, rocking Connor back and forth, humming the warmest of forest songs in Connor's ears, never opening his muzzle, everything echoing from deep in his throat. From anger to demeaning excitement, to a sweltering summer peace, the father was a whirlwind of emotions, but an extreme of each; and Connor was lost in the swaying warmth, his tears mopped up in the thick brown mat of warm fur.

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The darkness was already blanketing Connor's vision, so the moment when sniffling tears turned to a deep silent sleep he didn't know; all that Connor knew that in this warm swaying peace. He felt like he was sitting on a coarse wood raft out on the sea, bobbing and rolling over the tides, sunbathing under a cloudy summer sky. It was perfect.

However, such a peaceful sleep was stolen from, as the waters became turbulent, and dark shadows crested beneath the waves, spectral forms, swaying just beneath the pitch-black water. A cold snap froze the sea in a blink of an eye, freezing the storming waters in a moment. Frigid cracks cut across the frozen waves in front of Connor, and from this crack, black waters spilled out to steal the color and light of everything it touched, consuming everything in its path.

A hand, a shifting black mass of mist slowly formed as it reached for the sky, before slamming down above Connor's raft, greatswords foraged with the blackest light racked across the frozen ocean. The frosted water's screaming as Connor was dragged forward in his raft towards the black waters of the abyss. Gleaming purple eyes cut through the shadows fracturing reality with there mere presence.

A second hand reached out, whatever was coming through the void, had taken notice of Connor, but didn't want him, the claws dragged him closer, but the figure appeared as if it was climbing out, or so it seemed until light poured out from it's gaping maw, floating there amongst the shadows, Connor's Etheral brother looked down upon him looking numb as much as dead. Aaron's floating transparent red body was cut in half.

"Aaron?" Connor called out, the very sight of his brother burning his eyes, his chest heaving as he turned in on himself, "I'm sorry, I should have done something else, anything... I'm sorry,"

"Connor!" The ocean's voice boomed out from behind. The white frozen waters were suddenly blown away in a ripple of power, sunlight and the gentle waters returning back to normal. The black spirit cried in pain, struggling to break free of the strange power that was pulling it back into the abyss, it's shrill scream vibrating the water until all of the darkness collapsed in on itself. "That wasn't your brother, your brother's soul was consumed, you know that. There is nothing left of him."

"What...what was that?" Connor heaved as he curled up in a ball on the raft.

"You're pain, reaching into a place where it didn't belong." The formless voice answered, "Connor, you must control your emotions, demons can sense your agony, and they will come to consume you just like your brother."

Connor's chest burned, his heart aching, his mind reeling from everything, he was done, "Who are you! what do you want from me!"

"It has never been about me, it's not about what I want, it's always been about what is right. I choose you to keep the peace."

"What peace?"

"Connor, the greatest peace is not a land of tranquility and everlasting joy. For a world with no pain can never understand the nature of war. Peace is founded when both tranquility and chaos are at balance, when neither outweighs the other. Earth has found this peace, it suffers, but there is also tranquility. However, some wish to tip the scales. I choose you to help keep this peace and prevent the destruction of the earth."

"So I really am just some stupid character in a fucking Anime now; that doesn't explain why you choose me." Connor protested, glancing over his shoulder to see nothing but the beach and the island lagoon, he was slowly being pulled towards.

"Belenthal has seen the threads of fate and has seen Earth's future, all the ways it meets its end. You were chosen, because your soul and heart, open the door to a better end." Connor shook his head, "My soul is weak, I can't do anything, I couldn't protect my brother."

"I know Connor, I see all that you are, but remember this Connor." A cold gray hand laid over his shoulder, "The power of a master is not defined by raw potential, but the ability to conquer a nation with only a puddle."

Connor followed the strange hand up past his shoulder, it looked like it belongs to an aquatic Mincridarn, but the moment he glanced over his shoulder, his vision was filled with a blinding light. Blinking in pain to try and see what was there just behind him, he rubbed his eyes and saw only the cresting dawn pouring in through the living room window. He was still at Dagia's... and on the floor?

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