Straight to the point
Metek groaned, rolled his eyes at a display case holding a glorified vacuum cleaner, and walked on along the linoleum tile, scraping at the tips of his horns with a claw the way he did only when he was very, very, bored. The dragon winced as a friend, Kotak, a rabbit whom he had known since kindergarten, playfully punched him in the shoulder, smiling. “Figures, we ask Presley to go on a field trip all semester,” second semester, eleventh grade, to be exact, “he finally agrees, and we wind up in The museum of Modern Invention. Please, like this has anything to do with world history.”
It didn’t have anything to do with world history. Nothing at all. Just all sorts of luxuries that would remain exactly that: luxuries. The kinds of things you would see on the Japanese shopping channel in the middle of the night. A television screen made of animated water, gloves and kneepads that could let you walk up walls, hover bikes, that sort of thing; The kind of things that everybody would love to have, if they were millionaires, that is. 
The copper scaled dragon’s interest had failed six minutes after stepping off the bus, Kotak had stopped glancing about three minutes after that. Curious that both were the vanguard of the new generation, neither could keep their mind’s focused longer than it took to eat a hamburger. 
The two followed the main group of students at a distance, slowing to talk about their respective weekends without any other students, or Mr. Presley catching ear of it. They joked and teased each other on a myriad of subjects: relative skills, courage, accomplishments, there was no subject that escaped their friendly, if competitive banter. 
 “Well, of course you’d beat me in a fight,” the spotted rabbit said, “you’re a bloody dragon, I’m a rabbit, that doesn’t prove anything.”
“Then you agree that being a dragon makes me braver,” Metek retorted.
“Being bigger doesn’t make you braver,” Kotak said, and bumped the dragon. 
“Sure helps,” the dragon shot back, then laughed, “like you’d know, bunny.” Metek sneered, incisors expsed at being referred to as a bunny. It’s what a certain hated babysitter had called him, he had learned to despise the term. The rabbit regained his composition, sending back a rebuttal he hadn’t used in quite some years.
“Well, if you’re so brave, let’s see you prove it.”
“Gladly, how?” 
“Pull the fire alarm.”
“Like hell, I said brave, not crazy.”
“Fine, then. I dare your scaly ass to go break into one of the exhibits.”
The dragon raised a scaled eye-ridge at his challenge sarcastically, then replied, “Oh, no, please, not the exhibits! I might get kicked out! Yeah, right, I’ll catch up in five.”
“Yeah, right, like I’m gonna miss you getting thrown out of this dive?” 
“Fine by me, ciao, bunny.” Metek turned on a dime, snickering at the Parthian shot he had let fly before bouncing off toward a nearby door labeled EMPLOYEES-ONLY NO ENTRY. There was a fantastic number to choose from, nearly every exhibit had one on one side. Metek walked up to one of the doors, pretending to examine the display behind the glass window he inspected it. The door was pretty standard, wood construction, no lock that he could see. He leaned up against the wall next to it on the right side, behind his back he tested the doorknob, it moved, the door wasn’t locked.
 As stealthily as a six foot teenage copper dragon wearing a hoody and blue jeans possibly could, Metek opened the door a foot, slipped inside, and shut it behind him. On the other side was a long, nondescript hallway. Maybe it was significant of something, then again, who cares? There was a vixen in a white lab coat some ways further down, but she was walking away and didn’t notice Metek. Smirking to himself, the copper scuttled down the hallway in the opposite direction as the vixen, rubbing his hands together and examining the hundreds of identical doors on this side of the hallway with zeal. 
“Right,” he said, “let’s see what’s behind door #1, shall we?” He opened one of the doors, a few dozen paces from where he had entered and on the same side of the hallway. It was one of the larger displays, though it wasn’t very impressive. The display was maybe ten full paces wide, and about as long. Dominating the small room was an expensive looking opaque surface about the dimensions of a square dinner table. Various covered holes and the like covered it’s smooth, glassy exterior. A mild, opaque light lit the case from all angles, and the glare-proof glass made it hard to see out of. Metek put his face up against the glass, wrapping his draconic hands about his eyes so he could see through the reflective surface. 
He was looking straight into the perked face of Kotak, his face scrunched as he laughed heartily, taking a few steps back and raising an eyebrow. Metek raised one in return, and struck a masculine pose, then another. The rabbit had taken out his phone and was snapping pictures of the dragon on display. A few seconds elapsed, the dragon’s eyes adjusting to the glare, he saw the rabbit wave him back, sit on the thing, he realized.
Kotak saw no harm in it, and first pressured the machine with his hands to see if it would support his weight, then, when it didn’t collapse, sat on it, tail waving behind him. He could see Kotak walk up to the display again, reading the description, he realized. The rabbit leaned against the glass, waving his hand back and forth between two places, index finger out as though to press something. 
It did, in fact, press something. Not that the teenage copper in the display case cared much, his interest had been peaked by the various outlets, only the outlines of which were visible, that dotted the surface of the machine. It was only when a sound like a foghorn caused Metek to half jump out of his scales that he took notice of Kotak, leaning on the ledge of the glass, a sly grin slapped across his face.
   The dragon was taken completely by surprise as two steel half circles, padded on the inside by something soft, closed from behind like a pair of hungry jaws about his lower belly. 
“Wha- what is this?!” the dragon shouted as the contraption sealed snugly against him. He seized it in his claws, trying his hardest to pry it loose, but the machine was metal to his flesh, he couldn’t find the room to wedge his fingers between scale and restraint, let alone free himself. 
<Demonstration commencing> said a computerized voice, loud to the dragon’s sensitive ears in the closed quarters. Metek could feel the surface moving beneath him, forming to fit his body. A surface rose up behind him, and he was drawn back fully onto the table-thing by the bar around his waist, legs no longer dangling.
<Species: dragon – Age: 16 – Subject type: Adult – Engaging additional restraints> came the digital voice, again, spewing information that any idiot could tell at a passing glance. The next speech came almost in spite of his first appraisal of the machine’s intelligence, <Hatchling clothing removal protocols commencing.> 
The dragon was in the middle of taking in the words when he felt mechanical tendrils seize him from behind like some tentacle monster, wrapping around his waist, belly and arms. The clamp from the table released him, a light hydraulic noise was audible, and he was lifted into the air. The dragon fought furiously, thrashing about in the restraints, kicking his legs out, it did little good seeing as how they dangled a strong foot off the surface of the table. The powered, rubbery surfaces of the appendages knew their work well, grasping his sweater and the T-shirt underneath and, in one smooth motion, pulling them both up, over his head, and disposing of them in the corner revealing the dragon’s white, leathery underbelly to any who would look. A fair audience was there to witness it, too. A small handful of other people had gathered to observe the young drake’s humiliation at the hands of this machine. Metek caught sight of the rabbit on the other side of the glass. Laughing hysterically, Kotak was keeled over, his long brown ears flopping happily as he gasped for breath, front and center in the crowd. Gee, some friend he turned out to be.
“Kotak, what the hell!? Get this thing off me,” Metek shouted at the glass, the thick window shouted it right back at him. 
<Commencing speech deprivation procedures, standby> said the machine, the restraining tendrils starting to increase in number, branching out across his body. Two started to squirm down his pants, warm and soft against his scale, coiling and stiffening along the entire length of both legs, immobilizing him and putting a sudden end to the thrashing in his lower body. Two more repeated the process with his arms, leaving them motionless and spread wide, useless.
“Kotak, you asshole! Get this thing off- MMMMRPHHH,” was all the dragon managed to say before the bright pink straps of a muzzle closed around his snout, tipped the rubbery shield of a massive pacifier, the nipple of which had been forced between the drake’s lips and teeth. Metek lost any pretext of calmness, thrashing madly in his bonds, his anxiety made all the worse by the half inch of movement his well formed muscles afforded him. Falling limp in his bonds, hopeless, he tried in vain to push the pacifier and its jaw-spreadingly huge nipple from his mouth. The straps clamping his jaw shut connected to a thicker band which buckled behind his head. Without further warning, the machine lowered him onto the platform, belly up, and raised his legs.
<Primary protocols commencing – child sizing in progress… thirty-eight inch waist> The machine, whatever the hell it was, had broken Metek by that point. He simply braced himself for whatever came next, surely it couldn’t be worse than being muzzled and pacified in public. Honestly, what is this thing for? I’m not a baby, or even a mammal. Why did it just stick a pacifier in my mouth? All that, however, was nothing compared to what was to come next. The pacified dragon’s struggles were pitiful as the machine’s insidious tendrils systematically undid his belt and pulled his pants off in one yank, then started to slowly pull down his underwear.
“HMMM? MMMRPHHHH!” he said around the pacifier strapped snugly inside his maw, his scaled hindquarters and dragonhood lain bare in full view of the observing public, a good fifteen strong now, many of whom he recognized as classmates. A concurrent gasp of shock came from the other side of the glass, his cage, and was followed by the visible, if not audible, snickering of the crowd as they stared, literally straight at his exposed vent and genitalia, helpless as he was to even conceal himself. 
Metek’s face scrunched like that of some copper, scaled pit-bull, his eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the object that hung, as if to taunt him, from a tentacle, slowly decending toward his hindquarters. All the air had been sucked out of his lungs, a deep empty feeling, like he had swallowed a bowling ball, hung in the pit of his belly. The giggling of the supple, expectant crowd behind the window to his personal torture chamber penetrated even the inch or so of glass which separated them. Metek sobbed around the colossal nipple which had perforated his lips, suckling on it once or twice as he gasped. He sealed his eyes tight, as though if he couldn’t see the thing, or the people watching him, they would go away; leave him to deal with the situation without the humiliation of being observed. The dragonet felt his hindquarters raised, as if they needed a better view, he thought as he plopped back down onto something supple, soft, and warm, like a feather pillow in a drier-fresh case made of linen. The cushiony garment, easily three finger widths thick, was pulled over his crotch, against his belly, and taped snugly in place. To Metek’s honest surprise, the reaction of the onlookers was not to laugh hysterically, I-phone cameras at the ready, but, instead, only a kind, low, Awwwwww could be heard, as though they were observing a newborn version of himself, fresh out of the shell. 
<No caretaker detected, standard protective measures engaged> The dragon moaned somberly, his head drooping as the standard protective measures were applied to him. His fingers, about the only, completely unrestrained part of him left, were stuffed inside a pair of baby blue, billowy fabric mittens with no thumbs, the bulky, elastic material held his hands in a tight fist, claws useless, the stretchy band at the wrist making them as irremovable as if they were handcuffs. His feet received a similar treatment, wrapped in light blue fabric and embroidered with care-bears, a genuine strap held these in place at the ankle. The tentacles paused for a moment, lifting him a few feet off the ground and unrolling a queen-sized linen blanket the color of the sky on a perfect summer day, a smiling sun, a rainbow, and a baby dragon rolling around in the grass. 
The tentacles released him, dropping him onto the heavily padded comforter. Metek started, taken aback and immediately rolling over onto his stomach. Trying to rise, he got as far as his knees before he overbalanced, restricted as he was by two inches of diaper around his waist, and fell straight onto his back, right where he began. To further his distress, his fall put his filly pink padding in full view of the entire window, another round of Awwwwing commenced as Metek tried powerlessly to cover up his only garment using the soft, ruffled mittens that adorned his hands and feet. When this only increased the level of cooing coming from behind the glass, he abandoned the effort, crawling as best he could toward the edge of the table.
The machine, however, would have none of it. As soon as he reached a corner of the platform, his heart racing at the thought of being free of the sight of others, the tentacles returned. They never touched him, not directly, anyway. Instead they simply manipulated the blanket under him, a sharp jerk one way sent him onto his side in the fetal position. Pressing its advantage, the machine rolled him and the blanket into a cocoon, three elastic bands, like medical bandage, keeping the shell of swaddling from unraveling. At last, the machine had reduced the proud, fledging dragon to the state of a mere swaddled hatchling, wrapped as securely as though he were back in the egg. 
Finally, in the face of utter immobility and exposure, Metek felt the first tear roll down his snout, accompanied by a stifled sob, to be absorbed by a strap in his muzzle. More tears followed, soon resembling a torrent of tears and a thunderstorm of sobbing. It would have taken a mother to realize it was not, in fact, the crying of an infant. He saw twenty or so onlookers who crowded around the casement which separated him from reality, many had cell phones, others were calling for people to come and see for themselves. Metek gave in, stopping even the illusion of resistance. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the mound of fabric which concealed all but his face, and suckled freely on the pacifier, ignoring all who watched him. After some time elapsed, he didn’t know how long, fixated as he was on the plastic nipple in his mouth, he felt someone pick him up. Not the robotic tendrils of the machine, but real, living hands. His eyes shot open, but he couldn’t see who held him for the saddling. 
He was taken off the table, through the door, and down the hall a ways, then through another door, and was set down on something hard and stern, another table, he supposed. Strong hands unfastened the bands and started to unravel his cocoon, rolling him out like a carpet and almost sending him off the table.
“Well, you have a lot of nerve, breaking in here and messing with my machine!” said a scolding, feminine voice. Pulling the last remaining area of blanket off him, Metek looked and saw the vixen he had seen earlier, the stern one with the lab coat, “Well, I hope you learned your lesson from this: act like a baby, wind up dressed like one in front of your friends. And I’ve a mind to make it worse for you, yet.”
Metek ratted out a few sentences of inaudible words through his muzzle and pacifier, pawing at the straps uselessly.
“You can’t get it off, I should know, I designed the machine you just tested. Well, I suppose I have to take that off you, now. Crawl over here, hachie,” she tapped the table next to her, “I’ll get that out of your mouth.” Already having damned his pride, Metek crawled over like an infant and submitted to the vixen’s help. While she worked with the straps, she force fed him the details of the machine, that he didn’t care was none of her concern, “That machine is a custom designed child care automation, capable of doing just about anything that needs to be done for a baby, and, as you no doubt noticed, I built it to be ready for pretty well anything, teenage dragons and all.” The vixen finally removed his gag and threw it aside to the sound of Metek smacking his lips and toying with his now sensitive teeth.
“So what do you want with me?” Metek said after a minute of silence.
“What I want is your cooperation,” seeing the blank look on the heavily diapered dragon’s face, she continued, “that piece of brilliance has been in the showcase for three weeks, we only get four on front display, you know, and I need someone to test it in front of audiences. You’re going to be my test subject.”
Metek snorted, “Yeah? Make me, I’ve a mind to sue you for damages after this.”
“You sue me? I don’t think so. Clearly you don’t remember the line on your admission form that says guests must not engage, tamper, or otherwise involve themselves with any object within the museum as is not intended. Face it, if anyone’s suing here, it’s going to be me, and all I’m asking is a few hours of your time this weekend. That’s all.”
The dragon could hear himself start to growl deeply, as though he could really intimidate anyone the way he was dressed. He nearly hissed his next sentence, “So what exactly do you want?”       
         “Exactly what I said earlier, take part in a few demonstrations for potential manufacturers, let me show off the standard protocols, and some special procedures, and I promise I won’t sue you for breach of contract. Do we have a deal?”
“What kind of special procedures?”
“Oh, nothing too arduous, a bottle feeding, a changing, maybe some dress up, all off camera and for people you’ll never meet nor hear from again.”
“Why not get, oh, I don’t know, a baby to do your demonstration?”
“How do you expect me to get some mother to let me put their cub into an untested machine, honestly, don’t you think I’ve tried?”
Metek grumbled icily, staring off into a corner, it’s not as though I have a choice, really, he thought to himself, “Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” she replied.
“Your demonstration, I’ll do it, okay? Are you happy now?”
The vixen’s right lip curled upward at the thought of what she was going to do to this dragon once she got the chance, and with an audience to boot.