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Author Topic: Story - Full Bloom  (Read 8218 times)

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #15 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 #16 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


Offline TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #17 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 #18 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 headwear. 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 backroads 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 unsees 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.


Offline TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #19 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 #20 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 #21 on: 07. October 2022, 08:22:33 AM »
Another couple of enjoyable chapters.

Offline bracessd

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #22 on: 07. October 2022, 18:20:41 PM »
Great job!

Offline kelly-Marie

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #23 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

Offline TrainTrack

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #24 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 #25 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 #26 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 #27 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 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 #28 on: 12. October 2022, 18:05:00 PM »
That chair sounds fun!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story - Full Bloom
« Reply #29 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!