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Author Topic: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia  (Read 7698 times)

Offline aktivator82

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #15 on: 25. October 2020, 12:36:31 PM »
This is such an awesome story... I'm fascinated about your ideas of the treatment plan and all of the things around this character. Can't wait what these "fun plans" are?

Offline Taxy

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #16 on: 25. October 2020, 12:53:19 PM »
This is bloody brilliant. Well written and inventive. Keep it coming

Offline jonjon

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #17 on: 25. October 2020, 15:48:27 PM »
I agree this is brilliant keep up the good work

Offline Braceface2015

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #18 on: 25. October 2020, 17:04:15 PM »
I am adding your story to TheArchive as you post it. I like what you have written so far and am looking forward to the rest of it. There is no problem with taking your time to write a good quality story and it is always appreciated when you do.


Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #19 on: 26. October 2020, 19:25:26 PM »
I'm having a blast writing these! I hope y'all are having just as much fun reading them!  ;D

Chapter 4

You can hardly make out the aged red brick interior of the restaurant due to the walls being covered in framed family photos of all shapes and sizes, black and white and colored alike.

So. Many. Family. Photos.

As we meander across old, dark green cracked tile flooring, through candle lit tables packed with older couples and close friends groups, our server leads us past a group of empty tables to a freshly prepped one, surrounded on all sides by tables already packed with even more restaurant-goers. In the far corner of this side of the restaurant, the lively older duo continues their performance. One of them, an portly older male in full suit with a beret and sunglasses, (in the already dimly lit restaurant), tossles a single maraca with such feeling and passion, as if this small instrument were a natural extension of his own body. He masterfully serenades the venue to the melodies played by his partner, an older woman of similar height seated at an electric piano crudely plugged into the wall next to them. The microphone the lively man sings into looks to be a wireless one, hooked up to the same small speaker as the lady's keyboard. The man happily takes advantage of this, freely navigating the maze of packed tables in time to the music he sings to in a swaying, dance-like walk. It's an intimate performance for sure. 

As we take our seats, our server smoothly deals out our menus and asks for our choice of drinks. Mom asks for iced tea, already perusing the glossy, leather framed menus. I can't drink any kind of tea or soda now that I have braces, so water feels like a safe bet. Can I even get the glass close enough to my lips to take a drink with both of my facebows sticking out so far? I figure I'd better ask for a straw as well.
I look towards the server, who's eagerly awaiting my decision. I can see how polite she's trying to be by keeping her eyes away from my two facebows, but the forced eye contact is almost uncomfortable.

Then it hits me. I still have a lisp.
With how close these tables are, no doubt the few dozen people already staring won't be able to ignore my inability to speak normally. I glance at Mom, who only smiles patiently in response. Crap. She wants me to order myself and get used to the lisp. Its not like it's going anywhere. I can't just wait it out to start talking normally again. Hell, even Dr. Sinclair said there was a good chance the lisp would be permanent. I'm going to have to order the food eventually too, so I might as well try... I don't know, owning it?

The idea doesn't sound as bad as it might have to pre-braces-me. If I try to speak too quickly I'll only produce unintelligible garble, but taking my time also means whatever I say is gonna stand out even more. Screw it.

"Waher wif a shraw pleeshh..."

Half the tables around us go quiet. The more polite ones try to forcefully continue their conversations, but there's no denying it. Everyone heard that. The server leaves to fetch our drink orders, and I bury my head in my menu. Mom tries to strike up conversations about the food items bearing people's names, like the "Matteo Alfredo", or the "Lorenzo Linguine". I scan to find something that isn't packed with spices that'll get stuck in my oral hardware. When I reach the middle of the second page, where food turns to beverages, I realize no matter what I get here, it's probably gonna get stuck all up in my braces. My eyes hit the "Lasagna Classico", and I imagine that if can cut it into smaller sections, then I'll have an easier time getting it past the facebows and tongue cribs.

Crap. How am I even supposed to say the word "Lasagna"? I figure practicing before the server returns is my best option. I emerge from my laminated fortress and point out the selection to Mom, who picks up on my intention to cut it into smaller bites, and promptly approves of the decision.

I begin to mumble to myself to test the waters.

"Aahshhaya..."
I try to reposition my tongue to rediscover "L".

"Lllahshhaaya."
Hell yea.

I try the whole name.
"Lashhaya Chlaashhicoh."

Mom picks up on my preparation and provides her encouragement. I'm ready.
The server returns with out drinks and asks if we'd like to start with appetizers. Mom declines, stating we're ready to order. She gets the Chicken Marsala with the "Matteo Alfredo" for the side. The server turns her attention to me, seemingly ready to decipher my decision.

"L.. Lshhaya Chlashhico.."

"And the side, Dear?"

...

CRAP I FORGOT ABOUT THE SIDES.

She begins listing them off one by one, her expression telling me she's imagining my inevitable struggle with each choice. I hear her pause around mashed potatoes.

"Yeshh! Aashh Ooayoshh!"

Dead silence surrounds our table.

She smiles and jots down the rest of the order, telling us it'll all be ready shortly. As surrounding conversations slowly grow back to normal, our server takes our menus and heads back, leaving me without the cover I so desperately crave after such a mortifying display of my inability to speak. No doubt I was once again the same shade of red as my headgear straps. You'd think the dim lighting of the restaurant wouldn't make my appliances so obvious, but you'd be wrong. The flickering candlelight had no issue dancing across the metal shrouding my face and head. The subtle gloss of the reinforced leather headgear straps no doubt drew even more attention to my sorry self. If only the backs of the chairs were a little higher, maybe I could slouch into them and not look so ridiculous. The urge to bury my head in my lap and crawl under the table was STRONG.

Yet somehow, for some reason, I wasn't disliking the experience. It was definitely scary, and for sure embarrassing, but not in a bad way?

I guess the worst part was over. I wouldn't be expected to talk while eating, so when the food gets here I can focus solely on managing that. This whole experience wasn't a complete bust. It can't get much worse than this.

As Mom and I talk about the obscene amount of family photos lining the walls, a strange sound seems to inch its way closer to us, seemingly in time with the music. A maraca? Oh. Oh no. Oh God please no. I'm not turning around.

"ANYBODY HAVE A SONG REQUEST? ANYBODY? HOW ABOUT YOU MISS? YOU HAVE A SONG REQUEST? WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

Offline Sparky

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #20 on: 26. October 2020, 20:58:41 PM »
It is so very pleasing to see the MANY new story tellers writing stories here - you have such a fresh outlook on things, which some of us older writers have lost. We have told stories with a lot of lisping etc, and are sort of scared to repeat it yet again, but please don't let me stop YOU from doing it, it's great reading!

This latest episode so nicely showed the awkwardness and embarrassment caused by having to wear "strange appliances" that most people have never seen, the anguish of being forced to have to talk with an appliance that gives you a terrible lisp. Plus the joy and excitement that can also come with it!

Pweathe, sheeeep up thththe thtowy tewwing!

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #21 on: 27. October 2020, 01:03:07 AM »
Look alive! It's:

Chapter 5  ;)

"YES MISS YOU THERE WITH THE FUNKY HAT! YOU GOT A SONG REQUEST?"

This is it.

"FOR ANY LADY WITH SUCH GRANDURE AND MOXIE TO ROCK SUCH A FLAMBOYANT CONTRAPTION TO NOT HAVE A FAVORITE SONG, WHY IT'D BE UNTHINKABLE!"

I've had a good life.

"CMON FOLKS LETS GIVE HER SOME ENCOURAGMENT!"

Scattered cheers and whoops grow into clapping and howling as the man with the maraca whispers with a high pitched voice into the microphone,
"play Ain't misbehavin'... WHATS THAT AINT MISBEHAVIN? YOU GOT IT!"
The older woman plays an older sounding song I don't recognize as the portly man makes his rounds getting the other tables excited. Each time the chorus hit he holds to mic to the nearest person and let's them sing the "Ain't misbehavin" line into the mic before he continues, each attempt met with scattered cheers. At least at this point nobody else is looking at me. I can see our server on her way over with our food. I'm almost safe!
Something's off. I feel my primal gaze detectors going off. I hear... a maraca? No. NO! NOT AGAIN. I HEAR THE CHORUS. HE'S COMING. THE SERVER ISN'T GOING TO MAKE IT.
Before I know it, the Maraca Man is upon me once again. I see the mic curve in my direction. My que is here. The tables around me already know what's about to happen. I can't escape this, can I?

"JUST ME AND MY RADIOOOOO"

"... Ayn mishheeayvin..."

"SAVIN MYYY LOVE FOR YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!"

A mix of laughter and cheering erupts as the Maraca Man departs our table. He's done his damage. As if by cosmic intention, our food arrives right as the song closes. Mom gives me a mixed look comprised of pity and amusement, as if she's proud of me for deciding to play along. As if I even had a choice. How could I have denied such a happy man my willing embarrassment? He knows it too. Such evil in such a fun-loving form.

At least I can finally eat in relative peace. Mom starts on her Chicken Marsala, as I begin operating on my lasagna like a brain surgeon performs on the mind of an alien. Not even the gross comparison can deter my apatite. From being out cold for the behavioral modification, to all the walking it took us to get here, to every drop of blood in my body rushing to my cheeks from the non-stop EMBARRASSMENT at the hands of fate itself, it makes a girl hungry. I section off a slice past the outer crust, composed of the top layers of sauce, cheese, meat, cheese, and more cheese. The place is Italian afterall.

Now comes the tricky part. I haven't even been able to try drinking water yet, because SOMEBODY felt a song in their heart, so I'm not sure how this is supposed to go.

An Idea!

I pull out my phone and position it against my drink with the face camera open to use as a guide. As the camera loads, I'm once again taken aback by the face I see. It's a lot to get used to. I ready the fork with the thin flat layers of the lasagna, and glance back and forth between the camera's view and the facebows in front of me as they part. My mouth opens wider, wider, CLICK

CRAP. I can't even open my mouth that far because of the Herbst scopes! They don't even dislodge if I try to open too wide. They just lock! I go back to the phone. I can just barely fit the food between the facebows, but the real challenge is gonna be the tongue crib. I'll be relying on the camera completely. I inch the fork closer towards my tongue, my hand jittering from hunger, and my mouth starting to drool out from the smell of food. I manage to get most of the bite onto my tongue, using the tongue crib to scrap the fork clean as it exits my mouth. Success! I begin chewing. A lot of it gets stuck around the Sinclair ball in the roof of my mouth, and as I finally swallow the first bite, I realize that since the facebows hold my lips apart, not only is chewing much harder, but swallowing is now embarrassingly audible. I find this when I notice that plenty of fellow-restaurant-goers happened to be gawking at me out of unquenchable curiosity as to how I'd managed such a feat with my "FUNKY HAT" as the Maraca Man called it.

Mom's already done by the time I'm halfway through my lasagna. She's happy to sit patiently as I refine my skills of basic sustenance. You might be thinking, Alecia just rinse your mouth with water! See, not only can I not get the glass close enough without spilling because of my facebows, but because my lips are held apart, I can't even use the straw to get the water into my mouth, let alone use it to swish the food loose. By the time all that remains on my plate is the crust I won't dare tackle, I throw caution to the wind and hold the glass above my mouth as I arch my back with my mouth as wide open as I can. At this point many of the tables had cleared so it was only a few families and the staff to see. I managed a few gulps before a stream hit the top facebow, spraying my glasses and wetting my shirt. At this point I wasn't even concerned with anyone else around me. I was ready to go home. Mom politely paid and tipped our server as we left Vino's. We found our way towards an open section of the mall donut and found our car right where we left it. Home we went.

Dad's reaction was more than I was expecting. He asked if I was in any pain (probably because of my expression) but Mom explained that while my teeth were feeling fine, I'd had a rather eventful first day of braces.

As I readied for bed, cleaning my braces, appliances, and headgear was a synch, since Dad decided to spend the day picking out this fancy water pic with a multitude of settings for all kinds of appliances. I learned the different angles and techniques for best cleaning my oral hardware. It mainly consistent of me bending over the sink in the bathroom linked to my bedroom, and blasting each nook and cranny of my brackets, hooks, wires, and of course, the plastic ball. After sufficiently rinsing the whole of my mouth, I took to the appliances with a toothbrush, painstakingly brushing each and every part from every angle I could manage.

Having finally gotten the taste of Italian out of my mouth, I dawned my red plaid pajamas and slumped into bed. I was pleasantly surprised to find that in spite of the fact that the clasps and locks of my headgear were bulky sections of metal, they sat in a way that didn't make sleeping uncomfortable at all! This was pretty handy since there wasn't a way for me to remove the straps, or the headgear. Upon rolling over to find an odd sensation against my eyebrows, I remember I was wearing glasses. Since I can't take these off myself either, I'm forced to get up and hope Mom was still awake to unlock them for me. I find her and Dad on the couch in the Livingroom talking about potential trip ideas. Upon seeing me in pajamas, Mom shoots up to hand me a special key made for my glasses that can't unlock the headgear. The key she has can still do both. It makes sense that Dr. Sinclair would've left this with her too. Before I head back to bed, Mom says that Dr. Sinclair called, and that next week, she was having a few students from the city's university come by and spectate her practice. She was curious if I was willing to be their example, since I was a successful compliance case that would have to be there anyways. Exhausted, I agree.

After making my way back to my room, I use the bathroom mirror to try to unlock my glasses. I find the keyhole, shaped slightly different to the headgear clasps. I fiddle with the key for a bit, but eventually get the locks undone. For the first time since this morning, I would be able to take my glasses off. Knowing full well I'm only supposed to have them off when I'm sleeping, I turn off all the lights and crawl back into bed before removing them. While I'm admittedly curious as to just how blurry my vision will be without them, I'm simply too tired to try. I remove the ponytail holders from my pigtails, letting my hair fall as much as the openings in my headgear straps will let them, turn off the bedside lamp, lay down, and close my eyes before removing my glasses to place them on the nightstand. As my thoughts start to merge and drift off, I remember thinking how happy I was that the headgear straps were as comfy as they were.

Offline bracesfanza

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #22 on: 27. October 2020, 02:42:23 AM »
Great story. Thank you for posting.

Offline Nameless

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #23 on: 27. October 2020, 04:22:20 AM »
Thank you for this update! I'm looking forward to hearing about the students visit during the next appointment

Offline aktivator82

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #24 on: 27. October 2020, 16:26:45 PM »
Great next chapter... Looking forward how Alecia is going with her appliances

Offline m1090y

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #25 on: 28. October 2020, 09:01:36 AM »
I've always found it uncomfortable when, in a live performance, a singer or comedian picks on someone at my table... and that's when there is nothing particular to be embarrassed about or self-conscious of.  I remember once rather lusting over a singer, who decided to come out into the audience and sit on my lap.  It made me quite uncomfortable.

Great story and well written.

Offline Tin_Grin8444

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #26 on: 30. October 2020, 11:12:59 AM »
Let's get it boys  ;)

Chapter 6

The rest of the week consisted of Mom showing me around some of the nicer parts of the city. Most of the city's road were raised and threaded above and below other roads, making for a plethora of unique views of the many cathedrals and older buildings mixed among the newer ones. A lot of these older buildings had a similar red brick exterior that showed its age with vines and discoloration. As we drove through the higher parts of the city, along a few buildings I passed on my drive up, Mom pointed out the local University. This reminded me of what I'd agreed to Tuesday night. I had completely forgotten about it until just now. My thoughts were now railroaded by the possibilities of who I'd see, what appliances Dr. Sinclair would have in store for me, would I even be getting any new appliances?

Tuesday was here once again and I was nervous. Even though I was excited at the prospect of getting a new appliance, I was a little unsure if any would even be able to fit in my mouth. My nervous excitement wasn't helped by the fact that instead of coming in with me, Mom insisted on dropping me off in the mall's parking lot. Now I'd have to walk through the inner portion of the mall packed with people, through the open park within the mall, also packed with people, and I'd have to wait in public for Mom to come back just so she could pick me up again. Honestly it would've been a little less nerve racking if I could drive here myself, but Dr. Sinclair told Mom she'd have to drive me back because of the behavioral modification.

I decided to keep my hair up in high pigtails and wear a pair of bright yellow overalls over a thick burgundy sweater, since it was colder in the clinic last Tuesday. Once Mom dropped me off, I thought about looking at some of the shops in the indoor section of the mall before heading to my orthodontic appointment, since I was relatively early. I quickly reconsidered this thought upon passing a cute looking clothing store as almost the entirety of the store couldn't help but stare at the warmly dressed braceface hoping to peruse their stock. I realized that without Mom walking around with me, being in public with my bright red headgear straps and two facebows was a pretty scary thing, so I ended up bolting towards the entrance to the inner donut of the mall towards the clinic. The thought of covering my braces with the sleeve of my sweater as I walked did cross my mind, but felt silly, because not only would it do nothing for my extra shiny facebows and headgear straps, but I would then run the risk of getting my sweater sleeve caught in my very intricately hooked braces, and then I'd have that problem to worry about. Not to mention, the idea of covering up my braces somehow felt wrong. I was embarrassed about them, sure, but I kind of liked that I couldn't hide them. Only a little bit.

I quickly strode in the direction of the clinic at just the right pace to not seem like I was too in a hurry, though this didn't stop a lot of people from staring at me as I walked. At this point my drooling had gotten a little more under control, as my mouth was getting used to all the new hardware installed last week, but my lisp was as strong as ever just like Dr. Sinclair said. That green plastic ball was certainly doing its job.

As I approached the clinic, I noticed a lot more people than usual present within the waiting room. Most of the chairs were full today. Great, more people to see that I'm a compliance case. As I walked in, I could see these people were, in fact, patients and/or parents waiting for their names to be called. I couldn't see the university students Dr. Sinclair had told Mom about, so I assumed they were in the treatment rooms already. As I approach the check-in, I notice the same girl from last week now sports a cute set of soft purple rubber bands around each of her brackets, the same adorable herbst scopes flex as she calls on me with a smile.

"Checking in Sweetie? What's the name?"

"Aleeshheah Shhehleshhh"
I feel a few heads turn to my direction.

She smiles warmly.
"Try again Sweetie. Take your time."

"Aleeshheah Shhuhleshht"

"Very good Alecia. Please take a seat and Dr. Sinclair will be with you shortly."

Was she required to make me repeat myself? She did the same thing last time. I chose a seat on the inner row of chairs. A few people younger than me had their eyes glued to me. Two even take pictures with the phones. I try not to look at them. Across from me on the other row of chairs is a boy about my age who looks to be enduring a similar situation. He's rather hunched over with his hands by his mouth. I can tell by the red colored reverse pull headgear connected to his bright red full banded braces by thick metal springs that he probably wasn't good about wearing his appliances. He occasionally reaches behind the thick framed glasses, locked to a strap wrapping around his head connecting to his headgear, to rub his eyes as if they're not used to their new grade of vision. He seemed to sway a bit in his seat, looking a bit loopy as he sucks back saliva. He must've just gotten these installed. He catches me staring and averts his eyes, embarrassed for sure. He seems to do a double take upon spotting the colors I was sporting myself. I instinctively smile, I guess trying to make him feel a bit better about his new look. Of course, my lips are caught on my brackets and hooks, but he at least returns the smile with a shy one of his own, revealing a complicated mess of hooks and springs, wrapping all around his full banded smile. Even though I really felt for him, he didn't actually look that bad. He kind of, looked good with them? Something about all of the metal and springs, or maybe the glasses? It was the same with the lady at check-in. She had the same braces as before, but somehow they looked better. Our interaction is cut short by Dr. Sinclair's voice.

"Alecia! I'm glad you're here. If you'd follow me this way, we're ready for you."

I look back to my metal mouthed amigo to wave goodbye, my lips still stuck in a smile. He returns it, discovering his smile too was caught in the springs of his appliances.

I'm led to the same room with the cream colored reclining chair. Instead of just one assistant however, the room is populated with a mass of eager and curious college students my age and above with a mix of shocked and intrigued looks as I'm placed in the chair. Dr. Sinclair explains that these students are studying orthodontics at a special program at the city's university, and that they were especially excited to witness a successful case of behavioral modification practically applied within orthodontics.

As the chair leans back a familiar looking light is brought to hover above my face. I recognize the patterned sticker on the light, with the center dot plainly visible. As an assistant places a clear hissing mask over my face just like last time, Dr. Sinclair explains the setup using strange words and terminology I can't make sense of. They students collectively laugh as she tells some kind of dental joke. Everything's moving slower again. Instead of going straight to using the big light, Dr. Sinclair directs the room's attention to me, propping my mouth open with some kind of plastic apparatus after removing the clear mask. She pokes and prods using some kind of tool as my eyes uncontrollably drift around the room. Three of the ten students extend gloved fingers pointing at a part of my mouth and ask questions that Dr. Sinclair seems happy to answer. After a few minutes or a few hours I can't really tell Dr. Sinclair reaches for something out of view that each of the students look at with intrigue, asking a multitude of questions as she installs it. I can kind of feel her connecting something metal to the sections of my facebows that touch my brackets at the front of my mouth. After this she and the student step back for the part I'm more familiar with. The light's brought closer to my face as Dr. Sinclair says all kinds of stuff I can't make out as the light flashes randomly, all before everything goes black.


As I'm coming to I can feel myself being held upright as someone tweaks my headgear straps, making them loads tighter against my head, pulling my facebows farther back towards my face, but instead of being uncomfortable or hurting, it feels amazing. Like an aching soreness I didn't even know was there was being massaged away. I'm then led to the room with the eye-puffer, and instructed to look at that same dot once again. Loopy me outright refuses, prompting Dr. Sinclair to warmly say
"Alecia, be a good girl and look at the red dot for us."

And I was like okay

PWOOF

Dammit, they got me again.
I can feel the sensation of glasses return as another pair is strapped and locked to my headgear. I make sure to keep my eyes open as best I can this time. What starts out as blurry once again slowly grows clearer as I try to look at things around the room. As I'm led back into Dr. Sinclair's office, I can see the same cadre of bright eyed students looking at me amusingly. I feel one of the assistant wipe my chin. Was I drooling? I try to ask her but something feels off. Must be the loopy.

Dr. Sinclair holds a mirror to me as she explains to both the students and myself what's been installed. She holds my chin to keep my head steady as I notice my mouth is now completely held open by a set of spring wrapped metal frames extending from my top facebow to the bottom on the outside of my mouth, connecting to my front brackets by sets of wiring and bright red plastic. She states the purpose of this is to strengthen the fibers of my jaw by causing them to have to work harder to close in order to eat or speak. I completely miss the name she gives for the appliance in my shock of the new look I have, but weirdly enough, I kind of love it.
She instructs me to try closing my mouth, and I try. With the springs pushing my facebows away from each other, loopy me doesn't have a chance at closing my mouth. I keep trying, producing little squeaks from the springs and scopes now drawing EVEN MORE attention to my mouth. She then explains the stronger grade of lenses my glasses now have, further solidifying the affects of the behavioral modification. Because of the appliances already in my mouth, now my lips are held away even farther apart, further exposing the whole of my orthodontic work for the whole world to see. I can even make out the Sinclair ball behind all the springs, and naturally go for it with my tongue once again. Dr. Sinclair comments that normally this new addition to my menagerie of metal would make speaking horrifically difficult for most patients, but because of my status as a compliance case, I had already gotten ample experience with my lisp thanks to the Sinclair ball, so this wouldn't be too harsh of a change. The student take turns closely examining my new hardware, my mouth now held intimately open for each of them to gawk at as they please. Three of the girls even take pictures. I instinctively smile upon being instructed to by the third.

If I'm being honest, I love it. I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to say my name for the lady at check-in after this.

Offline aktivator82

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #27 on: 30. October 2020, 17:35:28 PM »
This is an awesome treatment plan... WOW!!! i just imagined how it must feel to not could close the mouth... OMG!!!
Can't wait what Aleeeshheah is going through with these full setting of appliances

Offline panda777

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #28 on: 30. October 2020, 23:37:07 PM »
What a great chapter! The image of Alecia being studied by a group of dental students is so cute!

Offline TimeandBrace

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Re: Story: Managing a Metal Mouth [Book 3] Alecia
« Reply #29 on: 31. October 2020, 02:08:30 AM »
Alecia's gone from a Phobia, to loving her braces. Lucky lady.~  ;D