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Author Topic: Story - Full Bloom  (Read 23496 times)

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Story - Full Bloom
« on: 19. August 2022, 08:36:45 AM »
Chapter 1

I'm startled awake by a sharp ring from the intercom next to the mattress. I take a second to steady myself, making sure I'm safe before regaining my senses for where I am, pressing the receiver on my end. It's Mr. Dan. We're approaching my destination about an hour earlier than expected, what with the good weather this place is known for. I tell him I'll be right up. I start by folding up my blanket and taking my shirt from around the pillow, folding them both back into my bag. I try to leave the room neater than I found it, Mr. Dan's been wonderful.

I stop by the bathroom on my way to the deck to wash my hands before putting my favorite blueberry hand lotion on. My hands have to be clean before I put it on, or it doesn't smell right. It has to smell right. I only use a dot from the large bottle, spreading it liberally around my hands and wrists til smooth. Closing my eyes, and bring my hands to gently cover my face, and take a slow, deep breath in. Much better. Opening my eyes I catch my reflection. The bags are still under my eyes. I still look like sh$t. I should be able to get more sleep once I'm there. Dad was nice enough to reserve a cute place on the edge of town away from the roads so it wouldn't be as noisy. The thought of anyone having cars on an island is funny enough, but I guess you gotta move big stuff sometimes. Mom's handwritten note details the directions for when we dock and where I'm supposed to pick up the rest of my luggage they're sending. The bottom has both their signatures and a few little stickers. A cupcake, a cartoon cat, a flower. I'm reminded of the habit I got into in high school turning in written assignments with stickers in the corners of certain pages. Nobody ever complained, but teachers did talk. I take one more deep breath with my hands close to my face before exiting the bathroom and starting up the stairs towards the deck.

Reaching the top I'm instantly met with a wet breeze flinging my hair in all directions. I rescue my hair with a pink scrunchy around my wrist and turn to meet Mr. Dan at the wheel. Well, really he's in his chair with the edge of his knee holding the wheel. He finishes a sip from a strange mug gifted from his second daughter and greets me with a warm smile.

"You look much better! Sleep good?"

I wish I did. I wish I could tell him I did.

"Yea I did. Thank you, really."

"No sweat! Whatever I can do! Listen, whenever your folks stop by, be sure to tell them I said hello."

"I definitly will. You said we're getting there early?"

"Yep. Saved ya about an hour. I know they've got you on some kind of a schedule, so I figured it's the least I can do. Speaking of which, you can see it from here! Take a look."

Sure enough, I can make out the outlines of multicolored buildings with faded blue hills behind them. New home sweet home. I wish I could head straight for the house set aside for me and try to sleep, but the directions Mom and Dad sent were very specific, and I've followed everything to the letter so far. As soon as I set foot on the island, I have to go to an orthodontist.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #1 on: 19. August 2022, 15:27:54 PM »
Ooh this looks promising  am excited to read more

Offline bsma189

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #2 on: 19. August 2022, 23:09:44 PM »
Intriguing start!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #3 on: 21. August 2022, 09:22:08 AM »
Chapter 2

I leave Mr. Dan and his peculiar boat with a friendly goodbye, making a mental note to find a thank-you-gift of some kind for the next time he finds himself here, whenever that will be. With nothing but a hastily packed bookbag and the clothes on my back, I pull Mom and Dad's note from the back pocket of my shorts to find the address to the orthodontist. Assuming it's a clinic, I type the address into my phone's search engine, only to be confused when a poor signal shows me no clinics, not just in town, but not anywhere on the island. Sh$t, am I on the right island? The address only shows a house to the east side of town, and that's when my phone can manage a good enough signal to properly load the search result. I decide to walk to a small baby blue bakery next to a fountain. I'm a little hesitant to open the door, since touching looks to be enough to break the handle right off. Don't get me wrong, the door is beautiful and well painted with care, but it's clearly seen better days, and I don't want to be that girl that breaks a freaking door the second she sets foot on the island.

I muster the courage to grasp the doorknob, and gently twist it open to be greeted by an older woman with a smile so warm it could stall winter. She invites me in with a thick accent native to the region and asks what she can get me. I decline her offer for pastries, informing her I have to go to a specific address. Showing her my phone, she turns her head to an angle with a confused look for only a moment before a light flicks on behind her eyes. She exclaims that the orthodontist operates out of her home, and that address is to her house. She knows her, a resident on the island for the past 10 or so years, to be an oddly eccentric woman whose quirks are rivaled only by her supernatural ability to problem-solve. Odd thing to say to a girl who just walked into your bakery, but I'll take her word for it.

With concrete directions in hand, I exit the bakery, concluding my one and only detour from my parent's very specific instructions. The next entry on the list after arriving at the orthodontist is just "Do everything she says!" followed by "Check over everything in your new house after she's finished with you." You'd think making sure my living situation was in good shape would take priority here, but nothing about my situation is normal, so I should be expecting a little weird. So far so good.

I follow the path provided by the lovely baker woman, clearly a scenic route intended to show the cute town and all its colorful beauty. And picket fences. So. Many. Picket. Fences. Finally passing a soft green building I find to be a bike repair shop; I turn the corner to see the lovely home with what looks to be a tumorous garage inorganically mashed onto the original home in various spots where one half of the building's edge is clearly older. As I draw closer, I can make out a soft humming flowing from Frankenstein's garage. I decide it only polite to try the front door first, giving her a chance to pause whatever she must be doing. I press the doorbell, and a warm hum resonates throughout the house followed by a gleeful "Coming!"

The door flies open revealing a tall woman with frizzled black hair down to the middle of her back, a few streaks of gray among the large mass. The hand not holding the door is propped above the other side of the doorway, her posture like that of a musical theatre star drawing back the stage's curtain to reveal herself ahead of que. An eager smile swims across her face giving way to heartfelt "Hello!"

I can only wave meekly
"Hello. I'm Casey."

"Aren't you ever! A little early? I love that! Come on in!"

I'm ushered past a front hallway littered with umbrellas of different shapes and colors next to two stacks of books collecting an impressive armor made of dust. Once past the kitchen I can begin to get an idea of why she added the garage onto the house. The regular house is so small! That, and she's very tall. Not a good combo. She's able to stand with her back completely straight once in the living room. I'm dragged across a large, ornate brown, red and yellow carpet to a stand by a large cabinet next to a desk. The edges of the room are populated with comfy looking chairs, loveseats and stools. The far side of the room has a half-dome window stretching from knee height to the ceiling, with a section of the wall protruding into the space to form a well-proportioned bench to sit at the base of the large window. Pictures of what I assume are patients and family hang scattered across the walls among odd trophies such as a swordfish, a large catfish with large spines along its, well, spine, and next to them, a mangled backbrace? She excitedly seats me at the other side of the wooden desk before cheerfully sprinting off towards the garage to gather her supplies. She has a lot of energy. Looking at the desk, it has a cute floral design along the edge. It looks handmade. Did she make this? and the chairs too?

She returns with a clipboard and pen and seats herself across from me, still wearing that friendly smirk.

"So, welcome Casey! I'm Dr. Richardson. I'm sure you know I'm an orthodontist, but do you know what kind of orthodontics I specialize in?"

"Um... no?"

"That's okay! I specialize in therapeutic orthodontics. What that means is that, in addition to regular old braces cemented to your teeth, I use a variety of unique appliances and methods both inside and outside the mouth, to ease and aid in cases of extreme emotional stress. I do this while prioritizing not just the condition of your teeth, but also your emotional health."

"So, I won't just be getting braces."

"Correct, braces are guaranteed, along with a few other things for today."

Can't say I'm too surprised. She seems like a candidate for the nicest human on Earth, but definitely a little weird. Figures I can't get away with just braces.

"A relative of a patient of mine had recommended my practice to your parents last week. I received all your relevant information with instructions to begin your treatment upon your arrival. Your parents didn't divulge too many detail-"

"I had a stress attack and I haven't been sleeping."

Her expression softens.
"I see. I am truly sorry that's happening. Regarding your treatment, your parents have issued the full payment to me in its entirety. I received their signatures as well as yours already, and everything's been processed and set. I just have a few little questions before we begin installation."

"Okay."

"Favorite color?"

"Pink."

"Next, I understand your parents also arranged work for you on the island. Do you happen to have a bike?"

"I... don't think so?"

"That's okay! I'll help you get one once we've finished for today. First things first, we're going to have you change."

She stands to open the top drawer of the filing cabinet next to us, taking what looks to be a small bulky mass of folded denim. She hands this to me and directs me to a changing room past the kitchen, telling me I have to put everything on, and place my remaining clothes into one of the bags in the changing room that I'll be taking home with me. She then leaves the living room herself to retrieve equipment from her garage.

I stand from my chair and walk towards the kitchen, noticing the clothes she handed me have something in them. Once in the changing room, I can spot instructions that my bottoms and underwear go in one of the colored bags provided, and that my shirt can stay on. In front of the room's mirror, I unfold the mass to discover it's a pair of blue denim overalls shorts. A folded pink object wrapped in the overalls falls to the floor. I quickly pick it up, realizing it's a diaper.

What?

Is this a part of the treatment? Did she hand me the wrong bundle? The short overalls look sturdy and comfortable, and like they'd fit me just fine, but a diaper? Really? I'm 24! I realize I've been in the changing room for a little while when Dr. Richardson calls from the kitchen, asking if everything's okay. I respond, asking if I'm supposed to put on the diaper too. She says yes.

Just what did I sign up for?

After a few moments of thought, and awkwardly standing facing the mirror holding a pink diaper, I decide I've come this far. I'll be having some choice words for Mom and Dad once I get the chance to call them.

I reluctantly disrobe and put on the clothing presented to me. The diaper feels, weird. Bulky and kind of in the way. The overalls don't help this sensation at all, merely pressing it against me even more. I look over myself in the mirror. At least it sort of puffs my bottom out making it look bigger. I guess I do look pretty nice in overalls. Finding a guy to date isn't exactly a priority while I'm here, but I'm curious what your average man would think of this. With my luck, everyone on this island is probably so weird this wouldn't be unheard of. I place my shorts and underwear into the gray bag provided and zip it closed. I emerge from the changing room to find Dr. Richardson eating a sandwich she'd made in the time I took getting changed.

With her mouth half full, quickly brushing bread crumbs from her hands,
"Oh! You look lovely! Very cute."

"So... the diaper."

"Oh! Yes! That is a required part of the treatment. I understand it may be a little awkward for a woman your age to have to wear one, but let me put some of your worries to rest. Firstly, you only have to wear it. You don't have to use it, understand?"

"If I don't need to use it, then why do I have to wear it?"

"A few of the treatment techniques I use for stabilizing your jaws and easing emotional stressors have side effects. Some of the light medication you'll be taking while here can potentially weaken the strength of your bladder. Fun fact! Your diapers are actually chemically treated to neutralize the ammonia compounds in waste on contact, and they're also maximum absorbency, so no need to worry about smell or leaks! I only provide the best for my patients! Now, most patients simply tuff it out and never actually use them, but you are required to wear them. I promise, this isn't a punishment."

I gesture around the puffy bulge the overalls do little to mask
"This just... feels awkward is all."

"I understand. Trust me when I say that you get accustomed to this and the rest of your treatment very quickly. Are you ready for the installations?"

Looking at her, she's being really patient with me. Mom and Dad already paid her, and I already signed on for the treatment. I guess I'm in this for the long haul.
"Yea. Let's do it."

With a sympathetic smile, Dr. Richardson steps into the living room to wheel over a large dentist's chair, connecting it to a dock in the center of the living room. The chair is an off-white almost cream color with a number of teal Velcro straps bearing a logo with a yellow flower across the seat, back and legs. I hesitantly walk closer, very conscious of the odd sensation of the diaper between my legs. I'm invited to sit onto the chair, where Dr. Richardson starts by explaining the straps as she wheels over a small table with a cloth draped over it.

"So, these are mainly for patients with involuntary muscle movement issues, but after my first 6 patients told me they preferred having the straps on, I decided to do it with all of my patients. I know this is lot to experience all in one go, so I'll give you the option of straps."

She's gotta be joking, right? Right? People actually preferred this? Sh$t. I've come this far. Why not?
"Sure. Let's do the straps."

"You got it! If you want me to take them off at any point, just let me know. Once we start the installation, I won't be pausing. We'll be installing everything in one go."

She says that like I'll be taking part in putting the braces on myself. I hop onto the chair and swing my legs into position. She starts by having me raise my arms to allow her to pull a wide strap over my stomach stretching up to my chest from my left side, then pulling over a slightly longer strap just as wide from my right side, the Velcro connects, and I notice a number of flat loops along running horizontal along the center of the top strap. She then gently brings my left arm down to a small cuff that Velcros around my upper arm. She repeats the same for the right side, the cuffs level with the large strap across my chest. She then reaches behind the chair to bring a long strap over my right shoulder that threads through the flat loop on the strap across my chest, before gently pull it back up and folding it to attach the Velcro on itself. She repeats this for the lefts side. As the second shoulder strap is gently pulled up, the large horizontal strap is softly pulled upwards with it, sitting snug against my chest. With the upper half done she steps to the middle of the chair.

"Next up are the hands!"

She starts by softly taking my left hand and placing it through a thin loop of material, then pulls a strap through a small black folding buckle to tighten it snug to my wrist, securing it next to my outer thigh. As she walks to the right side of the chair, I realize my right hand has instinctively come to the center of my chest. She pauses with a sympathetic look.

"Are you okay? We can just do one hand if you'd like."

After a moment, I nod, letting her know to keep going. She reaches for the right side's wrist buckle and presses a gray clip on the underside of a larger black section closer to the side of the chair, allowing the strap to extend. She brings to cuff up to my hand, still touching the tarp-like teal material holding my chest, and gently threads my hand through the cuff, tightens it, then grabs a black strap connecting to the lower buckle, slowly pulling the strap, with my hand in it, down to the side of my thigh.

She then grabs a long, padded strap from the right side with a buckle on the end, gently drapes it across my thighs, and walks over to the other side to buckle it to its port before pulling the buckle's strap snug, pressing gently into my tights. The material almost reaches the ends of my overalls shorts, showing a line of skin between the two. Finally, she goes to the foot of the chair, and wraps both of my ankles in their respected straps, similar to the ones Velcro'd around my upper arms.

Finished at last, she proudly places her hands onto her hips and grins endearingly.
"See? Not so bad! Try wiggling around. I'll get the rest of the equipment."

After she leaves, I attempt to wiggle and squirm, but it's no use. It's... comfortable? The straps aren't too tight, and nothing feels loose enough that I'm worried I might fall out. It feels snug. It feels a little silly to be wriggling around like this. I actually feel safe strapped up like this. Secure.

Dr. Richardson returns with two other wheeled tables of equipment, bringing them over to a spot behind the chair. She presses a button, and the back of the chair begins to recline. I notice the straps around my wrists and the buckles they connect to are shifting along a track attached to the seat that allows them to move naturally with the chair. That's kind of a neat feature. Once I'm truly at the mercy of Dr. Richardson in that quintessential dental position, she hums to herself as she readies her tools.

"You know, there is a separate restraint system for your head and face! I don't generally use it with my patients, since it's rather... excessive..."

As if this isn't excessive...

"But for your next appointment I can certainly bring it out for you if you want! Completely up to you!"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Sounds good! Now, let's get started!"


Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #4 on: 21. August 2022, 10:00:12 AM »
Chapter 3

Dr. Richardson begins by having me drink multiple cups of odd tasting liquid, each tasting strange, but not bad. The last cup is noticeably larger, and tastes majority of water with a subtle sweetness. After that, she starts by pulling my cheeks around a large device that holds my lips and cheeks away from my teeth, even pressing my tongue into the back of my mouth. She then thoroughly cleans and polishes each and every tooth. Once she's through, she starts by taking numerous small flat metal rings, coating the inside with a strange smelling paste, and bringing them into my mouth before instructing me to bite down each time. I can feel these metal rings are going around each of my teeth, different shapes intended for different teeth. On occasion, she'll try to press a metal ring onto a tooth, only for it to not fit, prompting her to grab a different sized one of the same shape from a container. Just how many of these things does she have in her house?

After a few of the rings are in place, she brings a strange mass of metal above my mouth. I can make out a small hoop of metal, about the length of my pallet, and on either end of it there are these metal corners with springs leading to their edges, on the ends of the springs I can make out 4 of those thin metal rings, two on each side. the rings all have these little tubes on the outside of them, and the corners of the metal pieces, where the springs meet, and either end of the small hoop begins, another little tube on either side. 6 little tubes in total.

She coats the inside of all 4 thin metal rings in more of the paste and tells me to try to open wider. I do so obediently, not wanting to disappoint her. She manages the mass of metal into my mouth, and places multiple rods into my mouth after, once again instructing me to bite down. I do as she says, and I can feel all 4 of the rings slinking onto my teeth at once. It's an odd sensation.

With that done, she then brings out another "appliance" as she calls them. This one looks like a kind of rake. A mess of long curved bits of metal, on the outside of it are these small, rounded metal pieces, about 8 in total, all connected by tiny rods to the rake. The ends of the rake are more metal rings that she uses to put the device into my mouth before fiddling with it with what look like plyers. She starts pressing onto the rake appliance after it's in my mouth, producing a strange sensation in my top pallet. She sticks her finger behind the rake and pulls towards the front of my mouth and upwards. It feels... good?

She looks around once more and smiles. She then gets up to grab something else. I can hear the filing cabinet opening again. She grabs a few things from it and returns. She picks up two metal hoops she calls "facebows" and places them into my mouth, I feel her connect one to each jaw. I start to get a little nervous. This is a bit much.

She then brings a thicker, larger facebow above my mouth. What even is that? She brings it into my mouth held open, and I can just barely feel her attaching it to what feels like something between my open jaws in the back of my mouth. She smiles once again and gently lifts my head, placing straps beneath where I lay on the chair. She presses my head back down and begins fastening the straps to the ends of the facebows. As she does so, I can feel a gentle pressure creep through the backs of my jaws. She doesn't bother taking anything out, only once again picking up the plyers and reaching in to fiddle with the facebows while they're in my mouth. I feel some odd tugging sensations on each facebow, including the large one in between the smaller ones. It seems to jet out further than the other 2. She places the plyers on the table, uses a strange blue light wand to dry the resin on every one of my teeth, and begins to wheel over a large light with a strange pattern on the glass facing down at me.

"Alright Casey! We're in the home stretch now! Doing okay?"

I can't exactly answer with the cheek gadget still in my mouth, but other than my mouth feeling dry, I guess I'm okay. I nod to her.

"Okay! This next part I'm just going to have you look at the very center of this little pattern on the light here, and just relax. Take some deep breaths."

I do as she says and focus my eyes at the center black dot. The light begins flashing at random times. I keep my focus on the center dot. The shapes around the light towards the edge appear to move as the light continues flashing unpredictably. Dr. Richardson might be saying something? I can't tell. I keep focusing on the dot. Wait, there are glasses on me now? When did I put on glasses? I try to keep focus on the dot, it blurs for a few moments, but soon becomes clear again. The light keeps flashing, but it's getting harder to keep my eyes open. I'm trying to keep focusing on the dot for Dr. Richardson. I don't wanna disappoint her. My eyes are starting to close by themselves. I feel a hand gently brushing my forehead. Everything's fading to black.

Offline silver-moon-2000

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #5 on: 21. August 2022, 13:51:02 PM »
While the diaper and hypnosis (?) take us to the more uncommen and "uncharted" territories, I'm definitely looking forward to next next installment of your story (corny pun very much intended)

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #6 on: 21. August 2022, 19:19:34 PM »
This is great I'm loving where this is going I almost wish I was Casey  please keep up the good work x

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #7 on: 24. August 2022, 17:47:13 PM »
Wow, great story so far!

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #8 on: 25. August 2022, 00:04:49 AM »
I like how each writer has their own way of writing.

It will be interesting to see where you take us with this story.

Offline Milva

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #9 on: 29. August 2022, 11:20:53 AM »
Great story!!!
I do hope to read more!!!
Thanks for posting

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #10 on: 03. September 2022, 09:24:21 AM »
Chapter 4

I can hear running water and soft humming. My mouth feels full, tight and constricted. I try to move my hands up to touch whatever's holding my lips apart, but something's holding them. After a bit of futile wiggling, I start to come to enough to remember where I am, realizing I'm still strapped to the chair. Dr. Richardson must've heard my ambient grunts and moans from the kitchen, since she quickly skips over to check on me.

"Ah! Haha! Finally awake!"

She pokes and prods around my mouth as my vision starts to come back. I can make out her standing above me tugging on the 3 facebows still sticking out of my mouth. I can see I'm also still wearing the glasses she put onto me. She glances down toward my diaper before looking back to me.

"Still dry?"

I nod to her.

"Wonderful! See? No problem."

She then brings a large hanging mirror above my face to begin explaining what all she's done to me.

I'm stunned at the complete nerd staring back at me. I went from a regular looking 24-year-old to a complete Braceface with glasses in a matter of a few hours. The thick framed glasses sit with their arms stretching under the headgear straps and above my ears. My lips are held apart by the top and bottom facebows, keeping them from covering my teeth, now bound in flashy metal. Dr. Richardson starts by having me open wider to showcase the severity of what she's installed. Each and every tooth is now wrapped in those shiny metal bands, a lot of them with gadgets, hooks and clasps attached to them. The rake-like appliance with its litany of small metal balls pressing into my palette are already coated in my own drool. As I open and close my jaw, I can make out the metal rods that the facebows are attached to flexing along the springs connecting them, producing embarrassingly audible squeaks and clicks. The tubes where the facebows have been inserted have these strange little clasps that have been closed and locked shut, ensuring I won't be able to remove any of my facebows, meaning I won't be able to take my headgear out at all. She explains that the tongue crib she's installed has a number of pressure contact points that will engage the sensitive spots along my palette whenever I swallow, making my tongue the mechanism that activates them. She instructs me to swallow a few times, each time my tongue pressing into the tongue crib, forcing the small metal balls to press against my palette in multiple spots, creating a tickling sensation in my mouth. A soft warmth spreads throughout my mouth, to the back of my neck and down my spine. It's... nice? She also informs me the glasses are a regular part of the treatment, and that she'll be giving me stronger prescriptions as time goes on.  The appliances, however, will remain locked into my mouth for the entirety of my treatment. This will also be true for future appliances she'll introduce on a need basis.

"How long will I haff thheesh for?" I try to say, lisping horribly, and ever conscious of the squeaks and clicks my appliances make.

"Well, that sort of depends on you. Most of my patients make the trip here about twice a year for checkups and adjustments, but since you're going to be living here on the island, I'll have ample opportunity to fine tune your treatment and ensure we're getting the desired effects on a near constant basis. You'll have regular appointments every month, and once your formal treatment has been completed, you'll be able to keep your braces and appliances on for as long as you want! Since I specialize in long term treatments, I'm perfectly prepared to maintain your oral hardware indefinitely!"

Figures I wouldn't be able to get a straight answer from her.

She leaves me still strapped into the chair as she wonders off into her garage to assemble a goody bag for caring for my braces. While she's away, I wriggle and writhe against the straps, deciding I like the sensation. I stare back at the mirror, still not use to the sudden and drastic change in my appearance. Lifting my head and glancing down to the rest of me, I can see the embarrassing bulge produced by the hot pink diaper is painfully obvious. I guess it is pretty soft and comfortable, but I have to hope that anyone who sees me will be too distracted by my braces to notice it.

Dr. Richardson returns with a medium sized duffle bag containing brushes, oral gels, a variety of overalls, both short and long for the colder months, along with numerous diapers to "keep me stocked". Embarrassing. She takes her time packing a few extra bits, such as shirts and a sweater with her orthodontic logo on them, and an umbrella. All this, and I'm still strapped in the chair.

FINALLY, she walks over and unstraps me. As my feet hit the floor, she catches me a little dizzy from that flashing light business, offering for me to stick around as long as I need to before leaving. I decide to sit at the bench next to her large half-dome window, watching the flowers and trees along the sidewalks sway in the afternoon breeze. As I sit, I feel the stark odd sensation of sitting with a diaper on, just in case there was any chance I could forget I was wearing it. This will take some getting used to.

After taking the time to regain myself, I take my bag, a few pamphlets of cleaning my braces, along with an embarrassing pamphlet on coping with wearing adult diapers, I'm set loose upon her front porch to begin walking towards my new house. Dr. Richardson promises to arrange for a bike to be delivered to my front door for me, so I start with Mom and Dad's directions.

Now having to walk back through the town to get the other side of it, it's just my luck that there are now way more people walking around than before. The local school seems to have just let out, as cadres of boys and girls walk about the paths around the buildings and fountains with their eyes glued to my oral hardware. A lot of them point, some giggle, some even take pictures. The worst part has to be trying to walk normally, knowing what I'm wearing, resisting the urge to pull at the ends of my overalls. The diaper just feels so bulky and awkward, and I'm afraid that trying to walk so normally might just clue people into the fact I'm wearing a diaper. I make a mental note to not walk around town at this time of day again. Passing by the bakery once again, I can spot through the window the older woman with her eyes practically falling out of their sockets as she sees me. Great.

Now on the other side of town, doing everything short of ducking through alleyways to avoid people, I make it into a pristine looking neighborhood with a litany of white picket fences lining the front yards of cute pastel-colored houses. Upon closer inspection, they each have names upon colorful signs on each of the fences, such as "Sea Breeze", "Thin Mint" and "Cold Coffee", clearly the names of each house. Some of the signs even have little designs relating to the house's name. Reaching the end of the neighborhood, I reach a path through trees at the end of a road leading to a soft pastel pink house with light green shutters along the windows. In front of it, a white picket fence gate with a sign reading "Full Bloom". The sign mirrors the house's pink and green color scheme, with a floral pattern adorning the letters. After enduring the traumatic experience of becoming a complete metal mouth, seeing this as my new house is a pretty sweet deal. Approaching it, I can see a number of empty, dust covered plant pots of varying shapes, sizes and patterns strewn about the yard. A pile of flat stones in one corner, and between the fence and the front door, the scaffolding of a hanging garden meant to hold vines to create a tunnel of flowers leading to the entrance. Reaching the door, I lift a small snail statue to the left of the door mat to find the key left for me. I attach it to my keyring I brought from home, well, old home, and join it to the small bee figurine I've lovingly carried for years. Unlocking the door, and opening it, I'm met with pastel colored furniture, a few tables, some empty bookshelves, and a few other odd bits of furniture, each with thin layers of dust. I figure while I'm waiting for the bike and the rest of my things to be delivered, I might as well start by rearranging the furniture to my liking and making sure my utilities are all in perfect order. On the way to the kitchen, I pass by a mirror hanging on the wall, once again stunned by my reflection.

I suck back saliva.

Yea, this is going to take some getting used to.

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #11 on: 03. September 2022, 22:43:09 PM »
Thank you all very much for the positive comments and kind words! I truly appreciate it! Cant wait to continue and add more to this one ;D

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #12 on: 22. September 2022, 08:20:18 AM »
Chapter 5

After verifying the functionality of my utilities and electricity, I spend the rest of the afternoon pushing chairs and tables across hallways to different rooms in an attempt to figure out the ideal configuration. So far, it's the most fun I've had in a while. With the lack of a TV anywhere in the house, I feel a unique freedom to decide which room will be the quintessential "living room".

 I decide to unhook the straps to my headgear to put my hair into two braids with pink scrunchies to keep it out of my facebows while I'm bent over moving the furniture, feeling that creeping pressure return to my jaws as soon as I unhook the straps. While the straps were off, I realized the ones Dr. Richardson chose for me were a gaudy mix of hot pink and neon green. I'm a little amused that the straps' colors sort of match the scheme of the house, but I can't help but feel a little embarrassed knowing now that I was walking through town with such an obvious "Hey, look at me I have braces and headgear" sign around my head.

 After a while, the only noises are the gurgles of wooden chair legs being moved across tile, and the occasional slurp of sucking back my own saliva. I decide on the mint-colored chairs and love seat around the coffee table in the larger room near the front hallway. It's got ample lighting and has a nice enough view of the front yard and the far side of the fence where the litany of empty pots are strewn about. I make a note to keep an eye out for flowers I could put into them once I get settled in. In front of the coffee table, I make space for where a TV will go in front of a wall outlet, planning to find a decent shelf to prop it onto. I don't think the TV will be anything big. Something a decent enough size that won't be too much to lift if I ever want to move it to another room. Realizing I'm now exhausted from pushing chairs and tables around, I realize I finally get to sleep! I waddle over to the stairs and slowly trudge to the top. Once to the end of the hallway, I swing the pristine door open to find the bedsheets match the theme of the house with a pink and green gingham check pattern with tiny flowers stitched along the edge of the comforter. I decide to sift through the duffle bag Dr. Richardson left me to see if there's anything more comfortable than denim overalls that I can change into to sleep. While I'm at it, I decide to unload its contents into the nearby closet. Taking inventory of what was left to me, I decide to go with a pair of stretchy overalls that are a much softer material with smaller clasps. I turn to a wall mirror to see how they look, and I don't hate it. The ever-present reminder of the diaper, AKA The Bulge TM, is still as visible as ever, but still gives my figure a decent look. Aside from the orthodontic train wreck, I don't look too bad. It's a shame I never tried experimenting with my fashion choices until now. Noticing the bags around my eyes once again, I decide it's finally time to try sleeping again. With no obligations, no cell service to get calls, and no other items on the schedule to stay awake for, I grab my favorite lotion from my bag to apply another drop to my hands, step over to the dormer on the right side of the room facing the front of the house to switch on the window's Air Conditioning unit to the coldest setting, switch off the lights, and crawl into bed.

The first thing I notice are my hips slightly elevated because of how thick the diaper is. I usually sleep on my stomach, but with 3 facebows now locked into my mouth, I don't think that's going to be possible anymore. I take off my glasses and place them onto the nightstand that sits just slightly above the top of the mattress, and I'm a little stunned at how blurry my vision is. She really did a number on me in one afternoon. I run my hands against my braids to bring them between my arms and my chest and pull the covers up to my neck. I'm grateful the AC is able to make it cold enough in here to sleep. I can't sleep if it's too hot. Finally, after what feels like 18 days, I can finally try to sleep.








An ethereal chime echoes throughout the house waking me. I jolt my head up to look around, realizing I'll need my glasses the see. I swing my arm to the nightstand and put them on to notice a soft blue light bleeding through the blinds of the window. Is it morning? The doorbell rings again. Oh God. I franticly untangle myself from the covers, finding difficulty with the material of my overalls forming a static charged hold to the sheets as I fight to free myself. I stumble to catch myself on one foot as I hop towards the stairs. Waddling down the stairs, I can make out a silhouette through the door's glass. Is it Dr. Richardson? I make it to the door and open it to be greeted by a surprised woman about my age. Her wide eyes shine a rich dark green brought out by the trees past the picket fence behind her. Her face is framed by chest length wavy black hair that almost hides endearingly large ears. She almost towers over me, her lips sat above a soft chin at my eye level. The edges of her eyes and lips begin to curl into a nervous smile as she realizes she's staring at my braces.

"H-hi I'm Cayshee.." I manage

She lightly shakes her head to bring herself to respond with an earnest smile "I'm Violet!"

After a terrifying stretch of time of her struggling to tear her eyes away from my braces and myself struggling to look her in the eyes at all, she manages to remember her reason for coming.

"Dr. Richardson said you were going to be our new delivery girl, so my dad wanted me to bring your bike to you here, and you also got some stuff from the mail boat!" She gestures to a few boxes bearing Mom and Dad's handwriting next to a soft baby blue three wheeled bike with a sizable basket atop the back 2 wheels.

"Oh. Uh- shank yew..."

"Dad says you'll need to come to this address for 1:00 today. You'll use the bike so you can make your first delivery. I'll see you there!"

She turns to leave, stopping after a few steps and turn around once more. "I like your braces!"

I can feel my face turn a stark red as a my facebows help to facilitate an involuntary smile. "Shthankshh!"
I forced to suck back saliva to prevent from drooling. After she's out of view along the path, I start moving the boxes and bike into the house. I find the note containing my parents' instructions for Day 2 and read that they've arranged for me to work for a flower company delivering their stock into town to be shipped out on the boats. The pay is more than enough to keep a fridge stocked, and since the house is paid for, I can set aside cash for things like decorations or a TV. Ya know, to not watch TV on since there's no cable on the island. Maybe I can at least hook up a DVD player and find some movies. I start to unpack the boxes of my things Mom and Dad packed lovingly, finding everything from shoes to cute sundresses, to a slow cooker, to an old cubic video game console, but no underwear. Not a single pair. Dammit, there goes that hope. I look over the map to the flower company and realize their store is located along a massive stretch of road that winds around the island past hills and a mountain. They want me to bike to and from THAT? I decide first things first, I need the bathroom, and I need to eat. Once that's all sorted, I guess I'll bike the path provided just to see what it's like. Somebody's gotta keep this plot moving.

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #13 on: 23. September 2022, 17:44:37 PM »
Looking forward to seeing the friendship that develops between Casey and Violet!

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #14 on: 23. September 2022, 20:40:47 PM »
I am looking forward to more of this story. you're off to a good start and are using an interesting concept, now I am waiting to see what you do with the characters.

Offline Milva

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #15 on: 26. September 2022, 20:28:37 PM »
Such a great story!!!

Indeeed we'll hear more about Violet!

But I don't want to suggest a path to the author


Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #16 on: 02. October 2022, 06:35:11 AM »
I hope to see more from Casey, especially an adjustment from Dr. Richardson. This is such an enjoyable concept because it is so unique.

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #17 on: 07. October 2022, 05:41:36 AM »
Chapter 6

I glance at the clock on the kitchen's stove and decide I've more than enough time to eat and make it to the flower company's office before 1:00. I start with a can of chicken soup from the pantry that looks like it was around when the bible was written, yet bares an expiration date a decade away. I retrieve a cute pot left by the previous owner with an Autumnal design and start heating what will be my first meal with braces. With that going, I waddle to the bathroom, needing to go since my doorbell woke me up. The bathroom is pristine with a design scheme unique to this room, a welcome variety compared to the rest of the house. A deep green with soft yellow accents along the cabinets and drawers, and a rather large bath. Well, large for me maybe. A lot of people on this island are tall. Now using the restroom, noticing just how bright and pink the diaper is has refreshed my embarrassment to a healthy level once again, as if its goal were to keep me from getting too confident with my appearance. Can't have me thinking too highly of myself. We all know a hardware store's worth of metal in your mouth does wonders for your confidence. Once finished, pulling the overalls back up, I make a mental note to not wear anything too short so long as I have to wear these.

Returning to the kitchen, the soup is slowing beginning to heat, so I prep a similarly designed bowl from the kitchen cabinet and set myself up next to the window facing the side of the house where the pile of flat stones tower above the grass and patches of moss. The soup finished, I seat myself, once again taken aback by the mortifying sensation bound to sitting while wearing a diaper in your 20's. I raise a spoon of the steaming soup, only for it to clash jarringly into my facebows, causing much of it to spill back into the bowl. Dammit, the diaper actually made me forget about my headgear, if only for a second. I decide to prop my phone against a glass of water with the camera facing myself to use my phone as a mirror. To see a tired young woman with 3 facebows holding her lips apart exposing a shining mess of orthodontics, hair up in two braids through the gaps in the pink and green straps, topped off with rounded thick framed glasses, deals a heavier blow to my already weakened confidence. After a moment silently lamenting what I've been turned into, I try again with the spoon, determined to curb the now aching hunger. I decide maneuvering the spoon between my middle and bottom facebows gives the most clearance and helps to better avoid the massive tongue crib. I tilt the spoon to deposit the broth, using the tongue crib to scrape the noodles and bits of chicken as the spoon makes its exit. This is appropriately followed by a painfully audible swallow, since I'm currently incapable of closing my lips. A small success I savor. As I swallow, I still notice the strange tickling sensation that the appliance welded to the part of the tongue crib touching my palette creates, feeling it tingle down the middle of my back like a soft warmth. At least it doesn't feel bad. I can't help but feel curious about what that feeling is, or why Dr. Richardson decided it necessary to lock such an appliance to the roof of my mouth, but right now, my focus needs to be food, at least until I can get the hang of eating like this. The soup finished, I rinse my mouth clean of the remaining food inevitably wedged throughout my oral hardware, hand wash the bowl and pot, leaving them to dry as I change into another pair of short overalls before bringing my bike outside to prepare for the long ride to the flower company. Since the bike has two large wheels in the rear to support the large basket meant for shuttling flowers, this lowers the risk of tipping over and falling to the concrete road, potentially damaging my headgear. I dawn some knee and elbow pads, just in case, and decide it unlikely I'd be able to practically dawn a bike helmet with my current head wear. Sitting on the bikes seat, once again, The Bulge TM makes itself known, further pressed against me. The directions in hand, I start down the road away from my new home towards my new job.

Biking quickly lands itself as my preferred method of travel, since it's already minimizing the time people in town are able to gawk at me as I speed through back-roads towards a less traveled road too thin for cars, and much too out of the way for most walking. As I slow my pace along the slowly winding road outside of town, I realize the view to my left of the rocky shore and ocean past it are breathtaking. The wind dances diagonally along my back upwards towards the hills to my right, flinging my braids about. The air is crisp, and the feeling of a soft wind against my legs is relaxing. After rounding the sides of hills for a good bit of time, what must be the flower company starts to come into view. A quaint house atop one of the larger hills, surrounded on all side by nothing but flowers. Now, I'm a little worried I won't be able to convey just how many flowers there are. When I say surrounded, I mean for MILES. Nothing but waves of cadmium, periwinkle, crimson, PINK! They uniformly sway and bow to the breeze from behind me up ahead, drawing further attention to the still house. Among one of the yellow fields, I can spot a woman with a white dress and vest slowly moving towards the house with a bundle of yellow in her arms. I continue the path that forks towards the building, previously unseen from the army of swaying color, only able to see the road as I bike closer. I reach an open gate with a fresh sign that reads, " <- This way Casey!". I reach the house, decidedly exhausted as I dismount the bike, my thighs sore. I notice the girl in the field quickens her pace towards the building as she sees me. I decide to enter to see if I can't just see the owner and be on my way. Opening the ornate wooden door, a bell jingles as it swings far enough for me to enter. I spot a counter at the front with an open doorway behind it. A monotone voice calls from another room.

"Coming!"

Footsteps across the aged wooden floorboards announce the entrance of a portly man, barely taller than myself. With hardly any hair atop his head, and what remains of it well-groomed on the back of his head, he makes up for his short stature with a rounded shape carrying an air of indomitable nature, indestructability even. Suffice to say, as proportions go, there is a great deal of him to appreciate. He struts to the counter. He is dressed in a well fitted checkered brown suit, a navy vest underneath his coat presenting a bright lovely necktie with a pearlescent dandelion pinned to his lapel. His shape seems to puff his chest outward past his familiarly soft chin, but doesn't go out quite as far as his stomach, the white of his dress shirt showing below his vest.

Once behind the counter, he hops onto the seat of a stool, gently grasps a small pair of thin rounded glasses from the inside of his vest and presents them to his deep green eyes to properly see me before speaking in a very matter of fact tone, without hesitation, even upon seeing my braces. His expression is unflinching.

"Hello. You must be Miss Casey, yes?"

"Yesh..."

"Good! Welcome to our shop. Here we grow and harvest a healthy variety of flowers shipped out for all manner of purposes, ranging from decorations to medicinal ingredients, the latter of which proves to be an especially lucrative side of this business. Your role here will be a pivotal one, for which you will be fairly compensated. The route you took getting here will be the required route when delivering our stock, as the main roads have far too much variation in turns and bumps. Those trucks and motor vehicles are simply too rough on my flowers! So, you shall be required to take your time and safely deliver my product to the docks in town with minimal jostling to my flowers. Did the bike shop boy deliver your bike on time this morning?"

"I- it washh a girl-"

The girl from this morning enters the room from a side door, she stops in the doorway abruptly upon seeing me, causing the white dress to whisp forward a bit. I notice the pattern of the dressy brown vest she wears over it bears a soft resemblance to the one the owner wears, the color matching a large set of gloves she wears covered in pollen. Once again, she can't help but stare at my braces, but not in a judging manner. More like fascination.

The owner glances to Violet.
"Is that where you ran off to this morning? I was wondering where you'd gone."

Violet's ears turn crimson.
"I... wanted to make sure she got the bike on time...You know Armann is late a lot on his repairs."

The owner thinks nothing of it.
"Indeed. Very well, but I'd prefer you let me know when you're leaving in the future."

She lightly smirks and averts her eyes.
"Yes, Papa."

He turns back to me.
"For today, Miss Casey, you're to leave with a single delivery to a local resident, so you won't have to journey all the way to the docks."

He turns to reach behind a table for a packaged bundle of vibrant orchids, placing them onto the counter.
"You'll be bringing this to a Dr. Caroline R. Her house will be very hard to miss, as I've heard she's constructed her own garage attached to her home. This flower is one she uses to create a light relaxative in her own home for medical use in her practice, so it's of great importance you take your time on the road back. I'll provide you with directions, since I know you just recently arrived on our lovely island."

I doubt I'll need them...

"And one more thing, you will be leaving with a payment a full week of this last pay period. The latest pay period will begin tomorrow."

I'm shocked.
"I-"

"Think nothing of it. You are an employee of this establishment, and you shall be cared for as such. Do you have any questions?"

"N-no shir."

"Very good. Safe travels home, and We shall see you in two day's time."

Violet perks up and smiles.
"Bye Casey!"

"Bye."
I meekly wave back with what had to be an awkward smile.

As the door closes behind me, the decidedly thin walls allow me to make out an exchange the two of them share after I've left. I can hear the owner speaking in the same matter of fact tone with his daughter.

"What a contraption! If I was bound to such a thing, I doubt I'd dare to leave my bedroom."

"Then she's braver than you, Papa."
She plants a kiss to his cheek before the wooden floor creaks softly from her footsteps.

"Indeed she is."

I feel my hand raise to touch my facebows, fiddling with them. Let's get home. I hoist the package into the basket on the rear of the bike, strapping it down with the clamps attached, mount the seat, once again acknowledging the diapered sensation, and begin my slow journey back into town.

The midafternoon journey flies by, even at my slow leisurely pace. Once into town, I quickly snake through back pathways to Dr. Richardson's house. Once there, I ring the strange doorbell, and am met with that same warmth and grace with a playful smile.

"Casey! It's been too long!"

"Hi Docthor Rithardthon. I have your packedth."

"Wonderful! Thank you!"
She starts to dawn gloves from her pocket as she stares toward my mouth.
"Go ahead and open up for me?"

I do as she says. She begins poking around my mouth as I stand akwardly in her doorway with my hands to the bib of my overalls.

"Hmm. Press your tongue into its crib."

I do, and that warm sensation tickles through my lower back.

"Good girl! Keep it pressed there."

She continues poking at the springs along the rods connecting to the facebows, presses separate points while my tongue stays pressed into it's metal cage, that tickling feeling continuing, now starting to grow. My thighs twitch.

She takes her hands out of my mouth and removes her gloves.

"Very good girl! I'm going to prep some adjustments for your appointment with me next week, okay? So in the meantime, keep pressing your tongue into its crib! You'll feel much better. Your lisp should also intensify as your tongue engages the crib more often, and we want that lisp to stick! Okay?"

"Yethh."

"Good girl! See you next week!" She lifts her package inside and closes the door, letting me to start my trip home.

I think I'm gonna set aside some cash for a TV.


Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #18 on: 07. October 2022, 05:48:37 AM »
Thanks for the update! I can’t wait until the next chapter, the adjustment. >:D

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #19 on: 07. October 2022, 07:37:20 AM »
Chapter 7

Regrettably, Dr. Richardson was right on multiple accounts. As the week passed, my auspicious lisp managed to become even more severe, and I've all but gotten used to the aggressive orthodontics and the constant presence of diapers between my legs. I've still been swapping them regularly as you would normal underwear, even though they've gone unused. That aside, adjusting to life on the island has been pleasant. The mornings are a calm slow rise to the day, and I've taken the time to fully unpack my belongs sent by my parents. I even took the time to reply with my grievances at their failure to disclose the severity of the changes I was going to experience when I got here.

 Currently, while dreaming of hooking up my old game console to a TV (when I have enough money to get one), I kept thinking about a game I used to play on it when I was younger, one that involved decorating a small room with dolls and posters and growing a few virtual plants outside. This got me thinking about the mess of plant pots outside. Seeing as how I'm going to be working for a flower company from now on, it makes sense that it shouldn't be hard to get ahold of a few plant varieties to spruce up the space around my yard. The past few days working there have been straightforward. I bike to the shop, Mr. Agust sends me off with packages of flowers to be brought to the docks and pays me. And Violet peeks in to say hello. Since Mr. Agust has me arriving to pick up the orders relatively earlier in the day, I end up seeing a lot of town residents on my way to the docks, which means ample time for the locals to gawk at my hardware. With my next appointment with Dr. Richardson in 2 days, I can only grow nervous about what she has planned for me. I can't imagine what more she could do to me, what more she could fit into my mouth, or how she could possibly make me look even more embarrassing, but I know better than to underestimate her.

When picking up the orders today, Violet was waiting by the counter when I walked in. She had asked if I'd want to meet up tomorrow and get coffee and hang out. I barely had any friends back home, and I certainly don't know anyone here well enough to consider them a "friend", so I couldn't decline the offer. Naturally, that night I was a nervous wreck.

I had managed to fit a comfortable pair of pajama shorts over my diaper and layered on a few extra blankets with the window unit on full blast, but I just couldn't sleep.

The next morning, I decide to wear some knee length denim shorts from back home with a yellow blouse. I fix my hair into a high ponytail with a yellow ribbon and a few yellow barrettes. Hopefully the bright colors in addition to the headgear will be enough to distract from the bulge beneath the shorts. Again, at least it puffs out my butt. I think I'll ask Dr. Richardson for some different color headgear straps, so that I can coordinate them with outfits. The idea makes me laugh.

I wait awkwardly by a coffee shop less than a block from the fountain near the bakery. It's not even midmorning and the place is already packed with young people on laptops. The location appears to be an older building from decades ago, formerly an upholstery repair shop. Though the walls have been painted and various coffee-related posters and displays populate the walls and shelves, an old industrial air conditioner hangs in one corner towards the windowed front of the store, and large fabric machines sit tucked away in the rear past starkly modern coffee machines. Even from outside I can clearly make out the smell of coffee, my tongue now instinctively pressing into my tongue crib, forcing a gentle wave of that warm tickle down to my lower back. I only stop when my legs start to twitch. I'm not sure what that twitch is about. Somehow it makes me anxious, even though it does feel good. I try to press my tongue into the crib more often per Dr. Richardson's instructions. I don't wanna disappoint her.

I'm pulled from my train of thought when I hear my named called.

"Hi Casey! Oh you look so cute!"

Violet skips over to me from the direction of the bakery wear she parked her bike. Her hair hangs down once again, this time under a black beret. She sports a thin black turtleneck tucked into a shin length checkered skirt with a thin belt. The contrast between her sunny expression and the quiet almost academic wardrobe is ultra-endearing.

"I... I really like your outfit."

Her ears redden.
"Thanks! I really like yours too. Let's go in and get some coffee!"

"Okay."

Thankfully, the coffee shop goers and a much more polite crowd than the streets during rush hour. Hardly anyone stares, and not a single person takes pictures. It's obvious from the moment we walk in that everyone is aware of me, but at least they make an effort to maintain their conversations and attention. We wait in line ultimately for less than a minute with how efficient the staff are. Dammit, I wanted more time to think of what I wanted to order and prepare myself for the mortifying ordeal of speaking! It can't be helped. Violet orders a cold iced coffee black as if she's ordered it a million times before, using the coffee lingo like "grande" and everything. She finishes her order quickly and turns to me, telling me she's paying for mine, her treat. The young man working the counter patiently waits for my order so he can punch it in, continually refreshing what looks like a smart device running a register application, only pressuring me to think faster.

"I-I um... Shthame thing shteeth haffing..."

A few of the customers turn to look my direction as the barista takes a second to mentally decipher my garbled speech. He nods and promptly enters the order and we take our seat at an area towards the front of the shop with a table and a few bookshelves adorned with the aforementioned coffee related displays, and Violet wastes no time asking questions about where I'm from, what brought me to the island, and of course, about my braces. I was surprised to learn that she's never been off of the island, that her mom was born and raised here just like her, and her dad came to the island to study local plants and met her. I tell her about where I'm from, how I was having a lot of trouble sleeping, and how Dr. Richardson had given me my severe orthodontic makeover (leaving out mention of the diapers). The time flew by and soon our order was called. Violet jumped to grab the drinks and returned quickly, sipping her black coffee from a bright red straw. I never usually drank coffee, even before the braces. She talked about how one day she stopped putting things like creamer and sweetener in her coffee, and now she just likes it black, but only when it's cold. I try to take a sip of mine, but find myself unable, since I'm not able to put my lips together at all with the headgears. She offers to try and help, standing to sit directly next to me on the small couch, placing her hand beneath my chin, and tilting it upwards, holding the lip of the drink to mine. Her green eyes are so focused, and my hands can only sit awkwardly in my lap. She slowly tilts the cup towards my open mouth. I can feel my face is definitely a bright red.

"It's okay. I've got you."

She slowly poors a bit, it pools across my tongue to the back of my throat, going down smoothly with an audible swallow. It tastes interesting! Bitter, but good. As I'd swallowed, the taste of coffee sticks to the bars of my tongue crib, I instinctively press my tongue into it, savoring the taste. That warm tickle snakes down my back once more, a little quicker than I remember. Violet continues telling me about the island and its attractions, the stuff to do, to see, and about the numerous plants her dad grows, all the while my tongue stays pressed into my tongue crib without realizing. After a few moments, my thighs begin to twitch with a soft panicked sensation around my hips. I quickly realize and relax my tongue, unclenching my jaw. I realize that the tickle keeps getting more intense. Maybe that's what Dr. Richardson wants? Violet continues and asks me more about my hometown, about my parents, when one of the passing trucks reflects the sun at my face just enough to prompt a sneeze, not an uncommon occurrence for me. A sudden sneeze squeaks out to interrupt my response and

Sh$t!

Okay um.. relax. Play it cool. Violet says, "bless you", I thank her, and try to continue my response. I try to act natural. Was that a lady thing? or something else? Act natural, don't shift in the seat. We're fine. It wasn't much. Violet is listening intently and hanging on my every word. She's really never been off of the island. In the back of my mind, I'm starting to get nervous out of my mind for what Dr. Richardson has planned for me tomorrow and how I'm going to tell her that, for the first time, the diapers were finally useful.


Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #20 on: 07. October 2022, 08:22:33 AM »
Another couple of enjoyable chapters.

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #21 on: 07. October 2022, 18:20:41 PM »
Great job!

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #22 on: 07. October 2022, 22:26:17 PM »
This story keeps getting better can wait to see what equipment she gets next and of course if she keeps her lithp

Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #23 on: 07. October 2022, 23:13:10 PM »
Great story, and thanks for the quick update. I can’t wait for the adjustment chapter. I really was not expecting the fact that she would actually put the diapers to use.

Offline Sparky

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #24 on: 08. October 2022, 23:37:57 PM »
It is so nice to read a story that is just SO different. And I am loving your style of storytelling... keep up the good work!

Offline braces37

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #25 on: 11. October 2022, 09:47:16 AM »
I'm really enjoying this. I like this kind of subdued, character-centric style.

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #26 on: 12. October 2022, 08:22:37 AM »
Chapter 8

Remembering Dr. Richardson's words regarding the diapers being chemically treated to neutralize waste on contact, I'm able to steel my nerves for the remainder of the conversation. Thinking about it as if it's just water at this point makes it a little less jarring. Not saying the stuff is drinkable, we're not about to go into Bear Grylls mental territory, just that there's not as much mental anguish as you'd normally expect from just having wet yourself because of a sneeze. Add it to the list of thoughts Pre-braces Me would never dream of.

As Violet continues her enthusiastic barrage of questions drifting more and more towards my braces and how they feel, I start to find all the lisping and garbled speech used to answer is letting me get accustomed to speaking just a bit more clearly, now that I actually have a reason to be talking. I guess over the past couple of weeks, I haven't done that much talking at all with anyone, even before the braces. It makes sense that with more practice talking, I'd have a chance for things to get a little easier. My lips are getting the hang of clanging around the facebows, even almost able to touch by the end of our meet cute. Add that one to the list too. At this point, our cups of watered-down coffee have their order labels covered in beads of clear condensation from the melted ice. It's a nice surprise just how time flew by, and how easy Violet is to talk to. By now it's midafternoon and the coffee shop's staff are starting to clean up, attempting to politely deliver subtle looks indicating it's about time for us to wrap it up so they can close. We get the message and thank them again before leaving.

Once again, from standing from the me-sized indentation on the coffee shop's couch to the door to the outside, I try my absolute hardest to walk normally amidst the novel sensation between my legs. This is just mortifying. As people walk about the streets in front of the old navy painted building, my mind can't help but race with thoughts of "Can they tell?" or "Am I walking funny? Is that giving it away?" and "What if the headgear isn't enough to distract from my shorts?"

I'm pulled from my thoughts by the hand as Violet grasps it to pull me along the sidewalk to some of the town's hotspots, like a famed 13-foot bronze stature of an Indian brought over from America by an eccentric pillar of the community a few decades ago, left haphazardly in his own front yard. HOA's would cringe at the sight. Further on, we cross by the downtown's art gallery where local artists post their odd works. Among them are large metal sculptures of various species of fish, a knight's shield composed of backbraces defending a plaster statue from what appears to be a large taxidermy shark... a sizable painting depicting the same bronze Indian, this time carrying a thin bearded man with a large grin waving a harpoon gun, and multiple walls covered with a number of multimedia panels composed of metalworking and painted wood and canvas depicting a period of the Island's history while being governed by an African Spurred Tortoise named Hernesto, elected at the age of 152, which passed away at the age of 156 from natural causes.

Violet cautions me against making comments regarding the Island's former leader, as he was very well liked, and taken from us far too soon. A small portion of students now wish for another animal to be elected as a governing leader, but the remainder of the population simply desires something with more longevity. Something with more longevity than a tortoise.



These people are insane.



As our get together comes to an end, Violet sweetly expresses her gratitude for me sticking it out with her til the end, even with all the constant stares launched my way, stating she envies my bravery. I wouldn't call it bravery. She walks with me to her bike, just a block from the road leading to my house, and surprises me with a hug. I hesitantly wrap my arms around to meet her gesture, not wanting to be rude. We linger there for a bit. She's so warm. Her turtleneck smells like laundry detergent and hickory. My arms struggle to find the proper balance, not wanting to hug her too tight and seem weird, but not wanting to not squeeze her hard enough to seem disinterested. When she finally let's go, strands of her hair are embarrassingly tethered and stuck to my drool coated facebows. Mortified, I can only stammer and lisp out a garbled apology as I frantically suck back saliva as she giggles and calmly pulls her long dark hair from my headgear, assuring me she doesn't mind at all. She tells me she really enjoyed today, and that we HAVE to hang out again soon. With that she leaves with a coyly warm smile and bikes back towards the path to her home with plenty of light in the midafternoon to spare. I stand around the bike rack next to the climbing flowers stuck fast to the wall on my right, wracked by nerves of what just happened, and the lingering thoughts in the back of my head for what Dr. Richardson will be subjecting me to tomorrow. A bit of drool almost creeps past my lips before I shake myself back to reality and start my awkward waddle home.

Once home, after a fresh diaper and a thorough cleaning of my oral hardware, I manage a set of soft pajamas to facilitate the best chance of a good night's sleep. Unfortunately, even though by now I'm more than used to my hips being elevated from the bulky presence down under, I'm not able to get a wink of sleep. My thoughts are far too scattered to allow for any rest to take place. I only dread my situation more when I start to see the soft blue light of morning begin to bleed through my window above the air conditioner. Dammit, I couldn't sleep at all?!?

Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and manage to braid my hair into twin braids at the top of the back of my head threaded through the gaps of my headgear straps, and dawn a white collared shirt with puffy sleeves around the upper arms, a wide knee length plaid skirt with a pair of bubble shorts beneath to mask That Which Mortifies Me So, and lastly, I wrestle with a cute black and white hound's tooth sweater vest against getting caught in the snags of the end of my headgear as I struggle embarrassingly to pull it over my head. While my outfit choice is clearly inspired by Violet's academic look from yesterday, the glasses, braces and headgear turn me into a complete and total nerd. Whatever. At least I'm only going to Dr. Richardson's today.

Departing from my lovely house, passing under the metal archway past the front door, I'm reminded of the climbing plants from yesterday by the bike rack, and if I'd be able to find something from Mr. Agust that I could plant there. Something for Future Casey to worry about.

I swiftly sulk through my usual backroads through town to reach Dr. Richardson's curious quarters and ring her ethereal doorbell knowing full well I'm way earlier than last time, but too tired to really care. As Dr. Richardson opens the door with her signature smile and actress pose, she immediately picks up on my exhausted state, asking if I'm feeling okay. After admitting to her I hadn't slept at all last night, Dr. Richardson briskly escorts me to the restraint-adorned dental chair already in the middle of her living room. Already knowing what to do, I once again hop into its seat and allow the good Dr. to begin strapping me down securely with the teal restraints.

"Oh Casey, I am really sorry you couldn't sleep last night! Let's see if I can help with that among some other things for today."

As she swiftly clicks each buckle and secures each strip of Velcro, I realize very quickly my pair of bubble shorts beneath my skirt greatly cause that which sits between my legs to puff out a great deal, magnified by a strap pulled snug across my thighs, but I'm much too tired to care. As she wraps up with the straps across my ankles, she starts the motor on the back of the chair as it slowly leans me back to that vulnerable position. I feel my braids wisp past the chair's headrest and dangle to its sides as I lay flat. She then sprints to her garage and swiftly returns carrying something that looks a great deal like a medieval torture device. A large, pristine, intricate metal cage with a number of clamps and dials. It shines against the low light of the lamps around the edge of the living room. Much too tired to protest or question her, I lay helpless as she proudly steps closer with the device.

"Great news Casey! Remember that head restraint we talked about last time? I managed to find iiiiit! Just be a good girl and relax for me, and I'll get you all strapped up!"

Again, much too tired to protest. After all, I did agree to this. She brings a rolling stool behind the headrest of the chair and brings the metal head restraint to the underside of the headrest. She opens the top half of the cage beneath me and clamps and latches a section of the inside to the intended section of the chair before bringing the opened top halves of the cage to close over my face. She opens my mouth, allow the cage to close while holding my mouth open very wide, almost uncomfortably, which is saying something in these circumstances. She tightens and adjusts the numerous clamps and dials, tightening section of black plastic to press against the sides of my face, the top of my head and below my chin and jaw. After each of the settings are to her liking, she writes down the configuration onto a notepad she kept handy and turns a key locking the configuration into place. I'm officially stuck. I attempt to wiggle at her instruction to do so as she gets up to gather the rest of her equipment, realizing quickly I'm completely and totally stuck here. Genuinely, no amount of wiggling, struggling or writhing could get any part of me loose from this machine. Maybe if I were a little more well rested, I'd have the energy to be panicked. I can only feel relaxed, maybe because of the notion really sinking in that I can't do anything here. I'm completely at her mercy.

She returns with the rest of her equipment, along with the familiar cups of strange liquids. She slowly pours them into my open mouth, allowing me to slowly swallow their contents sip by sip. After the last cup has been emptied, she starts by unlocking my facebows, saying with a calming tone that I don't need to worry, she'll have them back in very soon. Great.

She proceeds to install a number of spring-wrapped scopes to sets of individual teeth, hooking one of the sets to the scopes my facebows connect to at the back of my mouth. She informs me these are going to apply a balanced pressure to push the top and bottom rows of teeth forward, giving them a more pronounced look. The goal here is to have all of my teeth jet outwards so that no matter what, they are on display for all to see, eliminating any chance of my lips figuring out how to hide them. I've no idea why we want this, but I've no way to question her. She then makes a few adjustments to my tongue crib, widening the space of my mouth it overtakes, and spreading the metal contact points across the top of my palette to cover more ground. She tells me I'll have to keep pressing my tongue into my tongue crib as much as possible, as this will also help the springs to push my teeth forward, and to keep my lisp as severe and pronounced as possible. She then makes final adjustments, locking each new addition into place and placing bright, pink-colored bands onto the brackets of each band, a welcome addition of color. After this she brings a familiar light over my face, still held down, mouth still held open by the face restraint. Just like last time, the light begins flashing, and I know to keep my eyes on the center dot of the lamp's design until my vision fades to black.


I wriggle and writhe awake still locked in, this time with a panicked sensation in my jaws. I begin to whimper for Dr. Richardson. Something's wrong! Something's missing! She quickly skips from the kitchen to meet my pathetic whimpers for help.

"Shhh it's okay Casey. I'm here. You want your headgear, don't you?"

I struggle against the face restraint to nod, managing to only moan an apporval.

"Okay Casey, I'll get them for you. Just breath."

She swiftly opens the filing cabinet by her desk and retrieves a trio of bulky complex facebows with what she explains to be compliance devices to prevent patient tampering. She goes about installing them skillfully, and soon enough all three are each placed into my mouth. But it's not right. She leans down.

"You want me to lock them into your jaws? That way there's no way you can take them out?"

"Uhh huh..."

She takes a few tools and clamps them into their clasps, insuring there's no way I can take them out. She then brings up those familiar neon green and hot pink straps, threads them through the gaps of the head restraint, weaves my braids through the gaps, and fastens them to the ends of my facebows. As the pressure returns to my jaws, the sensation of my head being locked into a handcuff calms me. Much better. My breathing slows.

She gets up and walks to the side of the chair, glances to my skirt, and back to me.

"Still dry?"

My look says it all.
Her expression turns sympathetic.

"Oh! That's okay! We can talk about that whenever you're ready. Since you didn't get to sleep last night, I'm going to let you stay like this for a bit. Feel free to relax and sleep as long as you like, okay? I already replaced your glasses with a stronger lens. I'll be in the garage or kitchen."

With that she replaces the hanging light with a hanging mirror, leaving me to fall asleep staring at the helpless nerd I've been turned into. With my headgear finally back in my mouth, I relax. She turns off the living room's lights, and I quickly succumb to exhaustion.

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #27 on: 12. October 2022, 18:05:00 PM »
That chair sounds fun!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #28 on: 12. October 2022, 19:32:24 PM »
Thank you all so much for the kind words of encouragement! It truly brightens my day to see my work enjoyed!  ;D

Much love!

Offline ellers

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #29 on: 12. October 2022, 20:02:41 PM »
Great couple of updates! And I wonder what's going to happen once Casey's done with treatment. Seems like she'll have a metal mouth forever considering how much she missed that headgear! No complaints from me...

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #30 on: 12. October 2022, 20:31:17 PM »
Awwe don't want to think about the end of this my guess is her girlfriend will get braces or cassey will be in braces forever

Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #31 on: 12. October 2022, 23:21:04 PM »
Wow. Casey really got it this time. She missed that headgear so much, I think we can safely assume this story is not close to done yet. It seems to me Dr. Richardson is TRYING to make her bite worse and her life more hellish.

Offline Milva

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #32 on: 14. October 2022, 14:10:55 PM »
OMG

Casey treatment is so impressive!!!!

Great story! I can't wait to read more!

Thanks for posting this for us to read and enjoy!

Offline bsma189

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #33 on: 15. October 2022, 21:21:34 PM »
This is really well written!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #34 on: 18. October 2022, 09:48:48 AM »
Chapter 9

I'm struggling here. None of the numbers on my lock make any sense, they don't even look like letters or numbers. I try to tug against the lock while simultaneously attempting to keep my textbook and folders from slipping out between my upper arm and the left side of my chest. I can feel other students staring at me. I tug at the locker harder to get what I need and get away before they get closer. The locker's door won't budge, I'm fixing to be late to Miss Richardson's 5th hour and I still need the bathroom! I can hear them start giggling and pointing at my braces. They're acting like I asked for this. I didn't ask for this!.. But I still need to have them... I keep twisting the dial on the lock, I can't even remember the combination, but it's no use. The shapes on the lock keep changing to other nonsense shapes. I tug frantically. I still need to make it to the bathroom and not be late. I feel like I'm going to cry. Violet shoves past two of them and pulls me by the hand, telling me I can use her textbook. We start towards 5th hour hand in hand, but I still need the bathroom. Violet's talking about going by the store later and picking up nail polish to try. I try to tell her I still need the bathroom, but I can't get a word in. Am I going to go on myself in 5th hour?! I like this skirt! I don't wanna pull my hand away from hers though! What if she thinks I'm being rude? I don't know what to do. My mouth really hurts, like really bad, but I can't reach my hand up to my mouth to touch it. I can't move either of my hands.




The soft blue glow from Dr. Richardson's far window is enough for me to open my eyes. I hate having dreams like those. It's been years since I graduated. I instinctively wiggle against the Velcro straps. The pressure in my mouth woke me up. I try to look around, but my head is still held down, mouth still held open by the face restraint. I can hear a soft humming from the kitchen. Awake enough to see, the mirror left above me refreshes just what an orthodontic mess I am in my mind. But, I don't hate the look.

After a few tired moans, Dr. Richardson glides past the doorway with a plate of sandwiches in hand and sees my eyes open. She unstraps me from the restraints and places a blanket from a nearby wooden chest over my shoulders and offers for me to have a seat in one of the chairs to talk about how the treatment has been going. She asks me about my house, how my job has been going, how I've handled the major transition and all that's come with it. I take the time to apply a drop of my favorite blueberry hand lotion, taking a deep breath with my hands around my face. Through lisps, I answer her honestly. The diapers are a lot, though I'm glad I was wearing one in the coffee shop. The way I see it, it's probably better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them. I'm not psyched about having to wear them, but I am grateful that she's providing them for me since I have to wear them. As far as the headgear goes, I never had braces before this. I knew classmates that had regular brackets and not much else, so the appliances she's locked into my mouth were a whole new kind of experience. I mention the pressure in my mouth, and she tells me it's to be expected since she's installed appliances that will be moving my teeth. Somehow the knowledge that I'm supposed to be feeling some discomfort makes it easier to ignore. We talk a little more about my plans for spending my time on the island, and I tell her about the empty plant pots along my fence, and how I want to get a TV to hook up my game console and DVD player to. She encourages this, saying that making plans and following through on them with material results is a great way to build trust with yourself, making it easier to rely on yourself mentally as time goes on. I guess I'll have to start actually planting things.

At the conclusion of our chat, she lets me know that as my teeth start to move, occasionally some appliances or mechanisms may come undone, such as scopes hooked up to springs or a wire beginning to poke my cheeks. She says her door's always open if I ever need an adjustment or want to talk.

As the weeks go by, I try to make more plans to hang out with Violet. She shows me more of the town's peculiar traits, and we make plans to see some of the other towns on the Island. That afternoon, I finally started planting seeds into the litany of empty pots strewn about my yard, filling them with bags of soil also gifted from Mr. Agust. He also recommended a nice climbing plant that would flower to plant around the metal archway. Thanks to the island's notorious climate, just as Mr. Agust's flowers did, the numerous seeds quickly sprout and flourish into all manner of greenery.

The morning after I noticed the sprouts beginning to get big enough to form buds, I dawn a fashionable pair of sturdy overalls and decide it a good time to rearrange the large pile of flat stones that the grass had begun to overtake. I lugged them around the yard, arranging them to form little walls to hold the pots of all different sizes. While I don't know anything about gardening, Mr. Agust knows everything regarding the subject, so the particular seeds he'd instructed me to leave in the shade go under the back patio's awning, while the ones he claimed would require "full sun" adorn the tops of the flat stones creating a lovely scene across the yard. Admittedly, the sight of my sorry self locked into braces, headgear, and form fitting overalls lugging around large flat stones had to look a little funny.

A few days pass, and many of the flowers start to bloom. A closer look at them reveals a magical visible texture, the petals appear to shine with dew in the sun, like a fine glitter. Various shapes of coral petals add a whole new dimension of beauty to appreciate, and I can't help but feel a little proud. By now the climbing plant has nicely overtaken the metal archway leading to the front door, but it's yet to bloom. I'm curious how it's going to look.

That weekend, I invite Violet over to celebrate my finally being able to purchase a TV. She brings over braces-friendly snacks and, to my surprise, a small box of nail polish. We sit up through the night talking, trying various weird snacks she picked up from the imports section of the town's market, and painting our nails. She offers to paint a design of her choice onto my toenails, and I oblige her. As I try to sort through the TV's collection of movies to watch, Violet coats my doubloons in the cutest soft baby blue, letting that dry before taking a small brush with a silver color to paint tiny orthodontic brackets onto each nail atop the blue before painting an archwire across them. The sight causes me to actually laugh. It's a full laugh, with snorts, and sucking back saliva that no doubt flashes the orthodontic mess being referenced, by now even more so with my teeth jutting out even farther than before with the springs, but I don't care. It feels good to laugh with Violet.

We decide on an older 1980's romance film with swords. I turn off all the lights in the house, gather the egregious number of blankets shipped from back home, and we both curl up together on my couch to watch the movie, talking and eating weird foreign food the whole time. Wrapped up in multiple blankets, our toenails each out to dry, and shoulder to shoulder, the movie plays and we just talk. Our faces are illuminated by the dancing lights of the TV screen. As the night draws on, I start to get tired. Violet pulls my head to her shoulder to rest on. Her sweater smells warm and sweet. Though it's dark and chilly outside, I can spot outside the window to the front, the climbing plant encroaching the metal archway has bloomed, a number of orange trumpet like blossoms lay still in the moonlight. I softly nuzzle against Violet's shoulder, and I feel her hand curl around mine beneath the blankets. My heavy eyes start to drift closed.

I don't think I'll have any trouble sleeping.

Offline mr_90proof

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #35 on: 06. November 2022, 09:39:22 AM »
Yo, another chapter please.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #36 on: 06. November 2022, 16:38:30 PM »
I agree I hope there is another chapter to come  soon. I know writing can be difficult but I and a lot of others really enjoy this story

Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #37 on: 07. November 2022, 04:55:50 AM »
I agree I hope there is another chapter to come  soon. I know writing can be difficult but I and a lot of others really enjoy this story
I sure know I enjoy this story! Writing is hard, but I hope you stick with it, as all of your stories are really well written! I hope that you have another chapter coming soon!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #38 on: 15. November 2022, 05:46:27 AM »
Back again, it's

Chapter 10

That beautiful soft blue morning light pours through the large windows overlooking the front yard into the living room, waking me. As the vague shapes begin to merge into the chairs and tables around the couch, I try to reach with my hand to shift my glasses, still on my face when I fell asleep, but I'm not able to. Noticing the gentle rise and fall of my head, I come to find I'd begun clinging to Violet in my sleep, staying on the couch wrapped in blankets through the night. The muted TV still displays the main menu for the movie, the selection hovering above "bonus features". Somehow, laying face-first against Violet's chest while wearing 3 facebows locked into my mouth wasn't the uncomfortable endeavor you might expect. As the slow rise and fall of her chest continues to carry me with her breathing, I think she must still be sleeping. Both of my arms are wrapped around her sides, pinned to the couch, under her back, while her right arm lays across my back, with her left draped over the back of my head over the straps of my headgear, facing away from the back of the couch. Her sweater still smells warm and sweet, but now with more, "her". As I attempt to shift my face to better see outside the window to the right of the TV, I realize the sweater she's held my face against appears to be soaked with a large puddle of drool from my open mouth overnight. Mortified, I strain to try and keep still to not wake her up. Growing nervous, I can feel more drool attempting to slink out from my bottom lip. I'm forced to audibly suck back the drool. This wakes Violet, who perks her head up to grin at me with tired eyes, her hair doing little to hide her adorable ears, the right one red from laying against the far side of the couch. As I try to lift my head, I find the sharp compliance trays and hooks of my braces have been snagged into the cable pattern of her sweater through the night, the very section embarrassingly coated with my drool.

After a second, Violet is awake enough to see my sorry state. Her eyebrows scrunch in an upward bunch, and she begins to giggle as her other ear quickly matches the red of the first. As she continues to chortle, her stomach begins to bounce my head, and I'm still trying not to pull the threads of her sweater my brackets are latched to and trying to suck back any more drool from coming out. This cascades into snorts as I hover helpless to untangle myself. At least she's enjoying this.

Finally, she begins to cradle my face and attempts to pick the threads from the hooks of my brackets with her hands. Her hands are slow and gentle, if a bit clumsy since she doesn't seem to be fully awake. I can feel my drool getting onto her fingers as she continues.

"Shhorry..."

"I-it's okay!" she snorts

She frees me from my tangled drool coated predicament and shifts to let my arms out from under her as we each groggily rise from the couch to start the day. After washing up and changing out of her sweater, she collects her things and readies to head back home, but not before she practically lifts me off the floor with a hug. I get worried that she might feel the diaper press against her, but I try not to squirm, doing my best to return the affection. She feels so warm, even without the sweater. After she leaves, I start to collect the neatly folded food wrappers from the pile made during last night's movie. Still groggy from the morning's ordeals, I'm all the more bothered that I don't have to take the time to visit the bathroom first thing in the morning anymore. While it's nice to not be awoken by that discomfort, it's still something to get used to.




On my way back from Mr. Agust's with today's shipments, the town's docks seem busier than usual. Among the regular shipping vessels, a group of nicer boats begin to anchor with a small crowd of older residents waiting expectantly. I'm only there long enough to drop my delivery with the foreman, but as I mount the bike to start my way home, I spot an older man in a gray suit with not a hair on his head being eagerly greeted by the humble crowd as he sets foot on the docks.

Once home I decide to finally hook up the old cubic game console sent over from home and boot up the aged classic. The familiar music has me nostalgic, so I shuffle to the kitchen to look for something to prep from the fridge. Taking stock of the aged slow cooker on the bottom shelf of a lower cabinet, I decide to start a pot of chili that'll make good leftovers for the next few days. Having dawned a pastel pink cooking apron over my preferred short overalls, squatting down to lift the heavy cookware, that all too familiar sensation between the legs serves as the constant reminder I should be all too used to at this point. Thinking it over, I feel used to the braces, the glasses, even the headgear. They're a part of me, and there's nothing I can do about that. The diapers though, I'm still trying to come to terms with. Maybe it just takes longer. As I fiddle with the slow cooker's settings, admiring the dark green turtle silhouette design along the bottom, I try to imagine how Dr. Richardson's other patients have coped with their treatments. Are theirs as severe as mine? Did similar circumstances bring them to her practice?

I briefly return to the living room to turn the volume of the TV up, allowing the game's title screen music to play loud enough to hear in the kitchen. I begin prepping some chopped beef and cooking powder to place in the cooker, measuring out spices and chopping the bell peppers in large enough chucks to soak up the juices as the chili cooks. Before long, I find myself sliding across the tile floor in my socks in time with the music. Soon enough, I'm dancing. I can't remember the last time I just danced alone with myself.

With a few bottles of beer poured in to cook down, I close and seal the slow cooker to begin what will fill the house with a wonderful smell in a matter of a few hours. Thinking I'll let the slow cooker continue for at least a full day, I fetch the blanket Violet slept on, grab a large plushie from the bedroom and huddle up onto the couch to finally play the game I had so much fun with as a kid. I spend time watching the game's television set, cycling through the game's shopping channel for decorations for the character's bedroom, occasionally bringing the blanket up to my face to smell.

After a while, as the wonderful smell of chili begins to waft from the kitchen, I reach a stopping point, saving my progress before stopping the game. I decide to fully wrap myself in the blanket and lay onto my couch for an afternoon nap, just because I can.



My phone rings from the coffee table rousing me from the decidedly brief nap. It's Violet. She lets me know to be careful coming up to the flower shop tomorrow, since there're a number of cars taking that road for a man to visit her dad.


In the morning I decide to attack a bowl of the chili, even though it could cook for a little longer. The chunks of beef aren't quite falling apart yet, but it's certainly worth the preparation. I find myself excited to have more later in the day. Dressed in a yellow blouse and some bubble shorts, as I bike out of my neck of the road and reach the rest of the neighborhood, I realize the town has a lot more foot traffic than usual. Even on the back roads I take to avoid the stares at my aggressive orthodontics, many regular residents are out and about placing colorful decorations and preparing for something.

Upon reaching the flower fields surrounding the shop, I spot stark tire tracks that've left deep grooves in the decidedly thin road leading to the shop. At least they missed the flowers.

Once to the shop, I spot the vehicles are the seldom used rentals offered around the corner from the town council building. From outside, I can hear the voices of Mr. Agust and another man.

Mr. Agust: "It's been nice seeing you again, but-"

"Your father-in-law-"

Mr. Agust: "Left it to Marigold, who left it to me. Regardless of what you claim his wishes should've been, the legal authority remains with me. You will not circumvent my ownership. Stop trying."

"I can see I've agitated you."

Mr. Agust: "How perceptive! I'm sure you can also see it's time you leave. If you wish to actually stick around and participate in the cultures of what you claim to be your "true home", then feel free. It should do wonders for the coveted image you've made a dog's breakfast of maintaining."

The other man sighs.
"Forthright as always. I appreciate your opinions."

The front door opens as the man from the docks steps out, stunned when he sees me, clearly taken aback from the sight of my braces. He attempts to compose himself.

"You must be the new delivery girl, yes? I've heard your store is doing very well since you've started! Katy, was it?"

"Cashhey..."

Mr. Agust steps out from behind the door.
"Goodbye, Claudius!"

He sighs, looks to the drivers of both cars, and begins to enter the passenger's seat of the second vehicle.
"I should hope to see you both in town! This year's election should prove quite the event. Til then!"

Both cars begin to slowly back out of the path towards the main road, further deepening the tire tracks created during their arrival.

Violet pokes her head from behind the front door. I gather she'd listened through the thin walls, same as myself.

Mr. Agust looks to the both of us, biting his lip, and speaks up.
"Pay him no mind, my dears. He is a passing inconvenience."

He turns to me.
"Miss Casey, it would be a great privilege to Violet and myself if you'd join us on a trip into town this morning. You'd be observing a very important political tradition unique to this island. Would you be so kind?"

Violet smiles from the doorway.

My hand fiddles with the side of my shorts.
"I-sh-shurre..."

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #39 on: 15. November 2022, 12:40:33 PM »
So nice to have another chapter a d an interesting twist you've added as always a great story Tin grin

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #40 on: 29. November 2022, 06:05:43 AM »
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! <3

Chapter 11

Mr. Agust briskly carries himself around the left side of the store's front, soon returning to the rattled groan of a small, red repairman's truck. He slowly pulls out from a small shed behind the store, narrowly navigating a gap between a small makeshift fence of thin metal polls and the store's left side outer wall. He pulls up and invites us to enter the vehicle. Violet insists I ride in the single passenger's seat, while she sits in the truck bed, because she's much too tall to ride within the truck comfortably. As I squeeze into the charmingly small cabin, my knees pressed against the glovebox, I'm distracted from the lack of a seatbelt by Violet carefully hoisting my bike before skillfully climbing into the truck's bed herself, her checkered brown dress doing nothing to hold her back, sliding open a small window facing into the vehicle's cabin so that she's able to talk with myself and her dad during the trip. After confirming we're seated comfortably, Mr. Agust begins to pull out of the fields, having a much easier time navigating the thin road with such a small vehicle.

Since I've only ever ridden my bike along the thin backroads to reach the store, the main road is a welcome sight as the charmingly aged truck tugs along to the steady beat of the bumpy road. No wonder Mr. Agust was worried about his flowers getting jostled. The wind pouring in through both windows, exiting through the small sliding one Violet had opened creates a steady stream of salty air that catches my braided hair threaded through the straps of my headgear, flinging them playfully. The dust covered interior of the truck tells me that it's been at least a few months since Mr. Agust has driven it, but his driving seems to be as sharp as ever for someone who rarely navigates the roads. Very quickly, the edges of the town come into view. To the far left, I can even make out some of the familiar trees that mask my house from street view. The novel perspective is a real treat.

Pulling into town, Mr. Agust slows to a crawl as we prowl for a convenient place to park. As we reach an ideal spot relatively close to an aged brick wall near a familiar bike rack, the truck shutters to a stop as the ignition is switched off. Mr. Agust presses his door with his left knee to swing it open, slightly shifts to his right before using the momentum to jump from the truck, briskly stepping to the truck bed to help Violet down. As her bright sneakers hit the pavement, she stretches her arms to the sky and kicks her feet around. I Follow suit and exit the vehicle, stunned to see a number of colorful pennants and posters showing what appear to be political campaign posters for, a tortoise?

Mr. Agust carefully studies the multitude of advertisements strewn about before directing that we should head closer to the town's epicenter. As we start our walk towards a town square I'd only witnessed when I first arrived on the island, Mr. Agust explains the current situation to me.

"Miss Casey, how familiar are you with our Island's political history?"

"Not mutshh."

"Well, don't fret. It's not common knowledge to visitors. Every few years, when a vacancy in office comes along, an election is held. Residents are elected to a council, and this council presides over legislation presented to the governing entity to select the proper course of action. The particular vacancy this time around, is that left by our late Hernesto."

"The tortithhe?"

"Yes, the tortoise. I'll admit, I was a bit skeptical when he first took office. The election seemed to be an uncharacteristic landslide victory, not a common occurrence. In the short time we knew him, our quaint community prospered. It was a tragic shock when he left. Thankfully, it was painless, but these past few months the council has been in a split attempting to find a replacement. This time around, things are a bit more hectic. Two viable candidates have divided the town, and caretakers for them have yet to be chosen."

"Caretakerthh?"

Violet perks up.
"They're chosen at festivals like this one. They serve as ambassadors for the candidates and accompany them to all the events leading up to the election."

Mr. Agust clears his throat as he ushers us along towards the sounds of a crowd.
"It's more of a performative role than anything, kept alive mainly for sake of tradition, respect for the town's history. The same could likely be said for the nature of the candi-"

Violet cuts him off
"Papa..."

"I apologize. I shouldn't speak of that too loudly. You know my stance. While I respect the Island's history and the richness of its cultural flavor, most anyone with the sense to pay attention knows it's the elected council that are responsible for drafting the bills presented to whatever matter of animal takes that office. Oh dear..."

As we reach the town's epicenter past the right side of the familiar blue bakery, a boisterous crowd passionately navigate about hastily erected kiosks displaying election posters for two tortoises, named Javier and Igualez. A number of posters indicate they're both African spurred tortoises, both hatched by the same elderly woman who cared for Hernesto. Rumor has it they could be his sons. Older residents passionately discuss the potential scandal atop soap boxes with raised fists. University students attending schools on the other side of the island eagerly discuss the implications of a tied election, should the popularity of the candidates not be tipped once the caretakers are nominated.

Mr. Agust intently follows the flow of the debates, his arms crossed above his rounded front. He subtly bites his lip as discussions continue to grow heated. A small group of the students are proposing a third candidate be introduced, a young Indian elephant named Sanrio. Small pamphlets are passed about that show a charmingly low-quality picture of a small elephant with a loosely wrapped proportional pink necktie.

These people are insane.


The crowd is reined in by a loud bell rung by an older gentleman. Atop a raised floor across from the fountain, a short woman in suit takes the stage with a microphone and informs the crowd that caretakers for the chosen candidates will now be nominated. Groups of older residents deliberate amongst themselves, and soon, two of them take the stage from either side, one of them, the man I know to be the bike shop owner, the other, Claudius from the flower shop. Scattered cheers swim through the crowd. They were chosen to cast their nominations for caretakers. Mr. Agust sharply exhales from his nose as he spots Claudius on stage, continuing to bite his lip. Violet starts to look tense. I smell, plot progression?

The bike shop owner is handed the microphone, and declares his nomination for Igualez's caretaker, a student from the Island's university, an Esther Anderson. She meekly takes the stage to enthusiastic applause.

The microphone is then handed to Claudius. He pauses, facing the crowd, looking towards Mr. Agust. He raises the index finger of his right hand, arching it downwards towards the crowd. Mr. Agust's deep green eyes grow wide with a quiet rage. Claudius smirks.

"For Javier, I nominate Miss Casey Marsh."




What?

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #41 on: 29. November 2022, 15:07:42 PM »
Wow a place with even more confused politics than we have in the UK right now. Who would of thought it possible?

Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #42 on: 29. November 2022, 23:23:02 PM »
Um… a tortoise as a political leader? Great story, though.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #43 on: 30. November 2022, 00:52:55 AM »
That island mite have a tortoise as a future leader we've had a few dirty dogs in the past anythings possible Lol

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #44 on: 30. November 2022, 02:03:16 AM »
There are a couple of places that have done that. The real work is done by the people behind the scene anyways.

Online TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #45 on: 30. November 2022, 03:53:58 AM »
Very good point BF2015. I’m pretty sure the prime minister/president has lots of advisers that tell them what to do.

Offline mr_90proof

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #46 on: 30. November 2022, 04:18:24 AM »
I would much prefer a tortoise to a potato.

Offline silver-moon-2000

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #47 on: 30. November 2022, 16:14:40 PM »
Um… a tortoise as a political leader?

With a spokesperson/caretaker who is somewhat hampered, when it comes to making public speeches  >:D . Which promises to become very interesting.

Offline Castlesswonder

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #48 on: 01. January 2023, 18:53:53 PM »
I can’t wait for the next chapter

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #49 on: 02. January 2023, 03:31:15 AM »
Yes another chapter please love this story. Yes I know writing a story can be hard work but we do appreciate your efforts

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #50 on: 06. January 2023, 08:00:28 AM »
I hope you all had restful holidays!

Chapter 12

All at once I was ushered atop the small stage next to Esther who smiles encouragingly in contrast to the skeptical murmurs permeating the crowd. A few words are said, and scattered cheers grow as Claudius speaks to the crowd, but I can't take my eyes off of the confused look on Violet's face. Mr. Agust next to her is barely containing his anger.

Both Esther and I are then brought to the interior of a small restaurant near the fountain. Before Violet and Mr. Agust can push through the crowd to reach me, I'm inside being frisked through a metal detector by the town's sheriff's department, the device produces a whirling sound when brought around my headgear. They exchange confused looks with each other before shrugging & letting me through to the main dining hall. That was embarrassing.

Once again joining Esther, the large room is painted soft yellow with a number of hand drawn murals displaying the towns local cuisine as well as references to historical icons, such as the gigantic Indian statue, and a large shark attacking a backbrace. Around the top half of the high wall adjacent a large oven behind the counter, a dust covered fire alarm sits with gaps in the yellow paint around it, revealing a bright pink brick beneath the murals. The very top of each wall is lined with a holographic design of a cartoon diner and jukeboxes repeating as it lines the room. While the room is relatively devoid of chairs and tables, along the waist height portion of the wall are spots of dents and scuffs marking where metal chairs and tables have scraped against it, some painted over again with slightly different shades of yellow, other scuffs showing the older pink beneath it. I spot a majority of the seating folded and stored in the far corner.

I can hear Mr. Agust has made it into the building, and is scolding Claudius, berating him for involving me in this event. Before Violet can make it to me, swinging doors to the kitchen are held open as two tortoises begin rushing towards Esther and myself. It's occurred to me that the numerous pamphlets and posters advertising the "candidates" did absolutely nothing to indicate just how massive these things are. I'm having a hard time believing what I'm seeing as these mammoths hunch towards the both of us at alarming speeds. Glancing to my left, I can see Esther is just a shocked as I am. At least I'm not alone in this. The tortoise facing me hasn't taken his eyes off of me. He just keeps hustling over in my direction. Should I move? Is he going to crash into me? Glancing over to Esther once more, her head is cocked to the side in confusion. Her tortoise has veered off to its right and is now bashing its shell into the wall. I would come to understand this as normal behavior for a tortoise.

Right as My tortoise reaches in front of me, he stops and slouches his shell to the ground, still staring at me. Without warning, a small woman, with a habit for speaking as if it was to a child, jets from behind the kitchen doors, introducing herself as the one who hatched the both of them. She sees the tortoise stubbornly smashing itself into the wall, and strides over to me.

"You! Headgear girl! Sit! This is Javier! He is a very strong tortoise."

She leans down to kiss and praise the focused beast, its eyes still glued to me.

"Sit! On top of him now sit!"

"W-"

She takes my hips and practically lifts me onto the apex of Javier's massive ornate shell, once again I'm met with the all too familiar sensation of sitting into a diaper. A soft crinkle just barely audible causes my face to turn red. As soon as my butt hits his shell, Javier begins to continue his march in the same direction with myself on his back, right out the front door. I glance back once more to see the woman going to meet Esther's wall-obsessed tortoise exclaiming, "Igulaez! Iglualez this isn't the time for this!"

As Javier proudly carries me outside, onto the same stage via a small ramp laid out for him to the tune of cheers. I hardly know what to do in a situation like this. In all seriousness, what the hell does anyone do in this situation?

Once onto the stage Javier Plants himself onto a small "x" made of tape stuck to the stage. Before long, the cheers ramp back up as Esther is carried out of the restaurant atop Igualez's back, looking just as confused as I felt. Once we're both present atop the backs of our "candidates", The woman in suit once again takes the stage with a single apple. She then cuts two large slices from it and hands one to Esther and myself. We look at each other, and each hold it out as Javier and Igualez turn to face us and hastily munch the apple slices from our hands. Just like that, we've been accepted as their, "caretakers".

As the event draws on, numerous students push to the front of the stage to pet the duo as the woman continues relaying information for the voting event. All the while, Javier and Iglualez enjoy the attention of the crowd as they reach their necks down to receive pats. Listening in to the woman's speech, I overhear the final event being a kind of ball held in the candidates' honor. I have to go to a ball? In headgear?!

I manage to spot Violet and a less angry Mr. Agust, attempting to appear supportive. It occurs to me that the responsibility of being a human decoration for Javier limits my availability to deliver Mr. Agust's stock to the docks. Was that Claudius' plan to derail the growth spurt the flower shop has been having? Even if I was able to back out of the role, I'm not sure if I even want to... Admittedly, this is kind of fun! Javier seems like a well-behaved tortoise. I'll have to ask Dr. Richardson for her advice on the matter.

Speaking of her, as the event comes to a close, after I'm handed an itinerary for the next couple of days, I spot Dr. Richardson next to the fountain speaking with a nervous Claudius.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #51 on: 07. January 2023, 14:40:13 PM »
Another interesting chapter who would of guessed this turn of events from the way the story started keep it up  Tin grin your doing really well

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #52 on: 28. January 2023, 01:49:59 AM »
Chapter 13

The aftermath of the event felt comically slow. Four more hours would pass before I'd finally get some space from Javier, and with it, a chance to talk with Mr. Agust.

He's more than a bit upset that Claudius has involved me in the election, thinking this was done for a multitude of reasons. The surplus attention towards my orthodontically bound state could be a source of added stress for myself, not to mention if the election turns into an upset, my association could make my time here on the island difficult, to say nothing of how it might impact Mr. Agust's business with my absence as his delivery girl. By now, my curiosity is eating me.

"Whay ith thee tryeng to meth with ush?"

Mr. Agust pauses, glancing towards Violet, who shares my curiosity. He speaks to her.

"Your Grandfather left the business, and the generous land it's sat on, to your mother."

He turns back to me.

"I came to this Island many years ago to study its unique soil composition. As an island, its geographical origins are volcanic. What brought me here was a rumor of rare minerals resulting from a peculiar pool of magma beneath the island. Mind you, this pool has long since cooled and separated into numerous mineral components. I found, through my months of research on the island, that a large percentage of the leftover mass of minerals contained in that pool had slowly risen within the soil and rock to the island's surface. Rare elements such as Yttrium, Terbium, Europium, and Dysprosium. All of them, clumped up together in large masses, concentrated in one single area."

Violet perks up.
"The fields."

"Correct. Turns out, rare earth elements make for wonderful year-round fertilizers. I had approached Marigold's father with this information, offering a business deal to harvest the deposits and make us both rich. However, instead of outwrite telling me no, he made me wait. Weeks. Months. Years. All the while, I'd begun helping him in odd jobs around the island."

He turns back to Violet.
"And I met your mother."

He looks back to me.
"I'm sure I know what both of you are thinking, and I can put your worries to rest. Yes, the flowers are draining these deposits of rare earth elements. That point of stress was perhaps my biggest selling point to Marigold's father. Here he was, sitting on a treasure trove of materials used in everything from car components to military tracking hardware, all being sucked up and depleted by the delicately beautiful fields of color. If he'd allowed me to process the fields and dig, I could've made us both rich. But he made me wait, so I waited. Eventually, I stopped waiting and married her."

He pauses for a moment.
"Claudius, much like myself, found out about the islands mineral deposits, and he's aware that with each passing year, the stockpile shrinks. With how much I've estimated to be beneath us, I'm confident I'll be long dead before the minerals are fully depleted and these fields wilt, but that hasn't stopped him from attempting to get it from me. I'm truly sorry you've become involved with this. I've senselessly allowed you to be pulled into a feud between old men."

I sit straight for a moment.
"I want to phe abart ofh shee eleshthion."

Mr. Agust looks relieved.
"I'm glad. Don't worry about the deliveries for right now. Violet and I can make the trip. We won't fall too far behind."

Violet looks to Mr. Agust, then back to me with a worried look.
"The ball?"

a Ball?

Mr. Agust's eyes widen as the thought registers.
"Ah yes! Miss Casey! As you know, as you are now Javier's Caretaker, you have an event to look forward to. We'll need to find you a formal dress for the occasion."

Ah, that kind of ball.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #53 on: 01. February 2023, 18:07:41 PM »
Imagine that a little island with all those valuable elements interesting idea that growing flowers could use up all the minerals. I think in reality other outside interests would of been there stripping  the place bare long ago but as this is a story we can imagine that things would of been done in a better way.

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #54 on: 03. August 2023, 06:20:22 AM »
Chapter 14

Humorously, the role of Javier's "caretaker" involved very little of myself actually caring for the tortoise. My time was spent being pulled around various rooms rehearsing various ceremonies, two of them towards the very end being the most important: One for if Javier wins the election, and one for if he loses.

Mr. Agust was more than happy to help pay for a proper dress to be worn at the event, with Violet wisely tagging along for a vital second opinion in choosing the dress to be.

We ventured to the far side of the island in Mr. Agust's charming red truck to a relatively new looking dress shop about 10 minutes from the Island's university. The boutique styled store flaunted a modern white tiled interior, utilizing rows of bright string lights just behind the panels of the ceiling. We searched through rows of pristine dresses, most of them intended for weddings and college formals, til reaching a back section of specialty wear. Even though the store's business model and location are meant to cater to the island's immigrating student population, most of the dresses seemed to be designed to fit people much taller than your average college goer. Maybe the dress maker is an island native.

Past the counter I can spot a deep green bateau fit and flare dress worn by a maniquin, tagged with a "reserved" tag for "E. Anderson". It makes sense Esther was first to set her dress aside, being she lives on campus.

Deliberating which style we should search for, Violet interjects that the proper course of action in these situations, is to pick numerous dresses we like, and have myself try them on one by one, eliminating each "no" until only "yes"es remain!

And so, we did exactly that. Business was slow for the store, so there was no guilt in gathering many of the stores available dresses we theorized would fit my small stature, and the staff were kind enough to aid us.

Many of the styles fit well enough, but, unsurprisingly, seeing myself in the mirror with each dress, the girl wearing them while sporting glasses, braces and headgear I couldn't take off, even for the dresses everyone was in agreement was a "yes", I kept saying no.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I thought I was used to the braces? All the headgear, the spikes, the springs, even the diaper! I should be used to all of this! Somehow in a dress I just feel really out of place. I want to go to the ball, and I want wear the dress, but something's off.

With yet another dress with everyone in support of accept for myself, Mr. Agust looks to Violet, who returns the look before getting up from her chair and bringing me into the changing room.

"So, what's the matter with this one?"

"Uhmm... I- uhh"

"Is it the diaper?"

!

How does she know about it?
Was it my shorts?
Was it when she hugged me?!?

"W-wh... umm"
I don't need the mirror to know how red my face is right now. She's looking at me. I don't like looking at people's eyes, but she won't let me look away. I can't look away. My legs are twitching. Tears are building up in the corners of my eyes. She brings her hands together to hold my face, her thumbs resting against my facebows, the thin coatings of drool around them sticking to her thumbs. Her expression is steady. I feel like I'm gonna have a heart attack.

"Hey! Hey it's okay! I don't mind! There's nothing wrong about it."

I can't even stammer out words. I can only manage to loudly suck back saliva to keep from getting more of it on her hands.

"You can tell me, okay? Is it the diaper?"

"I... no... ith the brashesh..."

My hands meet hers around my face as I'm forced to suck back once more, my face still red. She shifts her hold from my face to my hands, bringing them down between us.

"What about your braces?"

"They're too mush... and I can't take shem off..."

She angles her head to look at me as I try to turn away from her. Her hair flows to the side, exposing her ear.

"I thought you said you were used them?

"I... there'th gonna be sho many people... and in this dreth? I'll look..."

"Like a little nerd?"
She smirks. She holds my face once more and pulls me to face her. I'm getting lost in the green of her eyes.

"What's wrong with looking like a nerd?"

By now her face is just as red as mine.

"I really like how your braces make you look."
She uses the thumb of her right hand to gently pull at the side of my lower lip, further revealing my braces.
"I also really like your headgear. All three of them, and how cute it makes you look."

She shifts a bit closer.

"And I love how your glasses frame your eyes. I think we both know you're gonna be stuck like this for a really long time. And if you don't go to that ceremony, you'll regret it down the line, so let's make a deal. You let me pick out a dress for you, and I'll go with you to the ceremony. I'll be with you the whole time."

She shifts a bit closer, but hesitates.

"If... only if you want to... with me."

Up until now she looked so sure of herself. Now her eyes are drilling into mine, ravenously searching for a response. Her expression, devolved into one of vulnerability, stays stuck like that. Frozen, holding, silently begging for me to say something, anything.

I shift a bit closer.

I raise my hands to hold hers, meeting them still cradling my blushing face. Eyes driller into hers, matching her expression, I nod.



After a beat, her face lights. She can hardy hold back a smile spreading effortlessly to her ears. Still blushing, she stammers.

"Um, um, okay! Um, I'll-I'll uh. I'll go pick out your dress!"

She fumbles with the doorknob as she awkwardly walks towards the gallery, her entire body seemingly tilting as if trying to keep moving to maintain her balance.

Almost falling, I catch myself on the back of a nearby chair, realizing I'd held my breath for the last part of that exchange.

I'm winded.

Offline silver-moon-2000

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #55 on: 03. August 2023, 06:59:27 AM »
Yay, you're back. Good to read you again  ;D

Offline Castlesswonder

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #56 on: 03. August 2023, 14:48:59 PM »
So glad you’re back and continuing this amazing story

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #57 on: 05. August 2023, 04:40:18 AM »
Nice to have a new chapter so pleased your continuing with this x

Offline braces37

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #58 on: 11. August 2023, 12:59:14 PM »
It's great to see it back again! I'm rooting for Casey/Violet.

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #59 on: 11. August 2023, 17:51:19 PM »
Nice job

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #60 on: 19. November 2023, 13:03:43 PM »
Chapter 15

I try not to stay in the changing room for too long while I'm catching my breath. I emerge to see Violet conspiring directly with the employees over a catalogue of the stores inventory for what's in my size. I take my seat next to Mr. Agust who shares a brief glance my direction, seemingly attempting to subtly assess that I'm alright. Not long after Violet returns with what she's certain is "the one".

After a final trip to the changing room, I emerge to the rest of the store wearing a charming bright pink dress, one with lax poofed up sleeves of a slightly darker pink, and a large pink sash tight around my waist to a ribbon behind me. The skirt of the dress seems enough to hide That-Which-Mortifies-me-So. The shade of pink matches well with the straps of my headgear, so they don't clash.

Everyone's in agreement, this one's a "yes". I decide to trust Violet, and give my approval.

Mr. Agust helps pay for the dress and the paperwork is filled out. Everything is set for the occasion.

From the boutique's front desk to Mr. Agust's red truck, I can't seem to focus on anything, not since that moment with Violet in the changing room. Thinking about her hands cradling my face over my facebows, how warm they felt, and her eyes. While on the drive back into town, I think about waking up on my couch with my arms wrapped around her, how she smelled. The more I think about her, I start to feel that familiar warmth creep down my spine, same as when my tongue is pressed into its crib, but it's different. There's that tickle around my hips, and a shake in my sternum. I try not to stare, but I can't help but keep glancing at the rear view mirror, seeing her riding in the truck bed, her hair flailing about, showing her ears. I can't stop thinking about how her hands smelled, how I want her to cradle my face in her hands again. Even though I don't like eye contact, and how invasive it feels, I want to look at her eyes and have her look at mine. What if, what if she wanted to kiss me? Could she even kiss me? With my braces and headgear and springs and compliance trays? Could she? Could I?

For most pairs of individuals considering putting their lips together, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who wouldn't view my current oral hardware as more than an obstacle, but Violet doesn't seem to mind looking at them at least. She even said she LIKED how they looked! It's not like I don't wanna know what it would feel like, and she was right, it's gonna be a really long time before I get any of part of my braces taken off, and there's no telling what more Dr. Richardson will be adding to my treatment in the future. At this point, I'm not even sure I want any of it taken out. Why don't I want any of it taken out? The thought has my knees shifting together. My braces are apart of me, so's the headgear. They're apart of who I am, and part of me even kinda likes that I can't take any of it off. Maybe Violet feels the same way? What if Violet had braces too?

The truck hits a sizeable bump ripping me from my thoughts. Dammit, that scared me. I make a mental note for a trip to the bathroom for a change when I get back home. Mr. Agust slows to a stop in front of the road leading to my house, as it's too small for even his truck. After hopping out, I turn to wave goodbye, noticing the driver rear tire has logged itself stuck along a low curb.

Mr. Agust sighs.
"Violet dear, would you?"

"Oh sure!"

Violet hops out from the truck bed and casually places her right hand underneath the tow hitch at the back of the truck. She tightens her grip, straightens her back, and lifts the rear of the truck off of its back tires, pulling it to her right and setting it back down onto the road.

I'm speechless.

Mr. Agust looks back to thank her from inside the driver's seat as she hops back into the truck bed. She lifted it with him still inside.

Mr. Agust starts the truck back up and begins to pull away, Violet waving with a shy smile as they pull back onto the road.

Oh man.

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #61 on: 19. November 2023, 22:52:39 PM »
Thankyou for a new chapter thats made my day x

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #62 on: 20. November 2023, 20:28:16 PM »
It's nice to see more of this story.