BracesForum.net
English => General => Topic started by: Tin_Grin8444 on 23. October 2020, 08:01:04 AM
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AAAAAAAAYYYYYYY BOYS!
It's been a hot minute since I've had the inspiration for one of these! Let's have some fun! ;D
Chapter 1
Two years. Two whole years of boring college courses and all I had to show for it were a few pictures in local newspapers and a damaged mouth. I'll be the first to admit that it was kind of my fault. That hulking refrigerator of a football player wouldn’t have slammed into me if I hadn't signed up for cheer-leading that starting semester, I wouldn't have hit my mouth on the metal framing the drum major was standing on if I hadn't been out of formation, and I wouldn't have to travel so far to meet my parents in a completely new city if I hadn't suggested they move after I went away in the first place!
I'm perfectly willing to take complete responsibility for my current condition, and I am VERY grateful for my parents' near instant willingness to completely cover my recovery costs, but I have to draw the line at what Mom was "just suggesting". I DRAW THE LINE AT BRACES.
Even the word makes my teeth shiver in the worst way possible. I remember seeing some poor girl and her friend get their faces shrouded in aluminium a few years back, and they NEVER stopped lisping. All the drilling, and scratching, and metal, NOPE. NOT FOR ME. And that metal bar they had locked into their mouths? How was that even ethical? GOD just thinking about it makes it worse. I don't care how bad my mouth happened to heal, I don't care that I "kind of needed them years ago", I DRAW THE LINE AT BRACES.
Pulling into the city was an event of its own. I had left campus early in the afternoon with everything packed. Since the University sent all of my work over the internet, there was no reason to stick around since I couldn't cheer with my face the way it was. Hopefully this is gonna be fast.
It was already dark by the time I was halfway there, and google maps wasn't giving me consistent directions. After finding the right exit, I could see fewer and fewer stars as the clusters of city lights grew in the distance. After crossing a really long bridge, I was at least in the city. Finding my parents place would be another challenge. Sections of the city were underground, and some portions were on top of these man-made hills, where it's own university stood. After driving around a bunch of obviously faux French architecture, I found the street Mom sent in the text. After giving the man at the gate the passcode, I was allowed to meander through dozens of hilly roads surrounded by all kinds of well kept plant life. Don't get me wrong, it was nice, but I was imagining what a pain it must be to navigate this for a day job. Just getting around this place felt like some buggy arcade racing game.
Finally, the place Mom described came into view. The massive, white concrete walls, the incredible lawn dotted with sprinklers, with sidewalks surrounded by flowers snaking it's way through to the front driveway, it was all exactly how she said it would look. I pull up close enough to see the name on the house. "Celeste". Yup, this is it.
I have to guess they heard me pull up, since write as I shut the car door, the front door swings open, and with it Mom runs out in casual jeans and a T-shirt, sporting a sweater, I'm guessing since she was waiting to come out and hug me. After a few minutes of hugging, her asking how my mouth was doing, and how my trip up was, Dad saves me by reminding Mom that I should probably come inside. As she leads me by the hand to give me a tour of the property, Dad kisses my forehead and starts getting my luggage from the car.
The house was a lot to take in. It was definitely bigger than what we were living in before I left. Dad always liked for us to live modestly growing up, but with their last kid out of the house, I'm guessing he wanted to make sure Mom was comfortable as they grew old together. Thoughtful as ever. I could see his touches of gardening in the front of the house, as well as in the hanging gardens behind the pool in the back. They liked to have close friends over for book clubs and grills, and the spare rooms weren’t usually empty, since most of my siblings would visit with them while travelling and bring their kids to get spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa. They were happy, and it made me feel way better to know that they were happy. I remember how much it hurt Mom to see her last baby leave for college, and Dad telling me they'd be fine, and that no matter what I wanted to do, they'd support me.
After the tour, Dad pulled out leftovers from the dinner they made the night before. It was some kind of loaded potato casserole with all kinds of different things like bacon and cheese, so of course Mom expressed her concern about my ability to eat with my mouth having only just recovered.
"I know you said it wasn't bad, but the physician at your college said some parts of your mouth hadn't heal properly. Can I just take a look?"
Crap, the physician ratted me out. I could tell my teeth weren't the same just by how everything felt, but I was willing to live with it! If it meant I could avoid.. you know what.. I was fine with a few crooked teeth, and the pain wasn't near as bad.
"I'm fine. I'm taking the painkillers just like he said, and they're feeling a whole lot better."
Dad looked at Mom expectantly, like he was waiting for the need to intercede. Mom met his glance and waited for me to start eating. Then it hit me. Crap, they wanna see me eat. Even though most of it was healed, I didn't wanna tell them that just chewing, opening and closing hurt. The painkillers weren't doing much anymore either.
I reluctantly held up the spoon. It was mostly soft potatoes, with only small bits of the crunchy stuff like bacon. If I could maneuver around the bacon and just swallow it whole, maybe. OW CRAP ow. I GUESS NOT. This was the first time in weeks I'd had something that wasn't blended up or in a smoothie. Judging by my loving parents' concerned reactions, I think I botched that pretty well. Mouth still full, I mustered, "Iwm fwyn."
Dad stood back as Mom leaned in closer to say exactly what I DIDN'T want to hear.
"Sweetie, I have this friend who's and Orthodo..."
"No."
Dad finally spoke up stern yet calm "Alecia."
Mom continued, "Baby we know how you feel about this stuff, but I feel really good about this one! I know her very well, and she's got this program made exactly for people who are afraid of... dental work, just like you! Please, just give it a chance?"
They could see it before I could; I was shaking in my chair. Dad walked over from the other side to comfort me. Still calm as ever, "It's just temporary. We're gonna be right there with you, and you can stay as long as you need. No ones forcing you to do this, but your mom and I know that this is hurting you, and we know someone who can help. Give them a chance?"
Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and they'll present surgery to me as an option.
I nod.
Mom pulls out a contract for "Frontier Dentistry and Experimental Orthodontics". I shudder reading those words. So this is what they were willing to cover for me. I can't bring myself to read past the first paragraph and just sign the bottom without a second thought. Somehow, I'm not anymore relaxed than I was before. As Mom calls her friend, who I'm assuming runs the place, and sets up an appointment for two days from now, Dad pulls a bunch of fruit out from the fridge and makes a smoothie for me so that I don't go hungry. After that we lay on couches in the living room, watching old movies they have on VHS, and Dad is quickly out like a light in his chair. After I'm showed my room, I just can't sleep. Braces????! At my age????! I loathed the very idea. I was still holding out hope for another option. ANY other option.
Monday came and went way too fast for my liking. Mom and I had gone into town to buy clothes to wear to the appointment to help ease my nerves. Imagine my surprise when that did little. Okay, I guess it helped a little bit. It was nice to spend time with Mom again, and we found some cute tops and a pair of shorts with all kinds of flowers stitched in along the pants and back. I decided I'd wear them to the appointment.
Tuesday was here and I was not about it. After downing another smoothie and carefully rinsing my still sensitive mouth, Mom brings me into town near her friend's orthodontic clinic. After sitting in the car for 3 minutes composing myself, Mom leads me into what looks like a massive shopping mall. From the wide, multi-colored tile floor, you can look up to see walkways on higher levels, connected by other suspended walkways above pillars. Every inch of wall that wasn't adorned with those 90's looking multi-colored tiles was drenched in advertisements, from every kind of perfume and cologne, each with evermore ridiculous names, to more brands of clothing than I'd ever be able to keep track of. We continue straight through behind the center entrance and pass a variety of chic, modern looking shops with prices up in the ozone layer. This might make for some fun window shopping later.
After exiting one section of the building, I can see that the entire mall is one massive donut, with tons of space and smaller shops along the inside, marked by massive colorful tarps stretching downward to provide shade for and mark the entrances to the different shops. After more walking, we come to the clinic. It's got a modern, white exterior with massive floor to ceiling windows in the waiting area and treatment rooms. The whole thing feels very open.
Mom motions for me to check in with the lady working the desk. I walk up to this woman a little older than me, who greets me with a warm smile sporting, you guessed it, braces. These long metallic scopes stretching from her top teeth to her bottom ones flex and stretch as she talks.
"Checking in sweetheart? What's the name?"
Meekly I mutter "Alecia Celeste..."
She picks up on my blatant phobia, and sympathetically motions me past the waiting room doors. I glance back at Mom, who's already found herself a seat with a magazine. She smiles encouragingly, signaling she won't be going anywhere.
I'm led down a decent sized hallway to a well lit office, with a light blue carpeted floor, where I sit in front of a old looking desk and am asked to wait for Dr. Sinclair. I'm guessing Mom's friend?
A minute goes by and another door opens. A tall woman, who looks to be in her 40's, with a smile to rival that of any actor's, enters and introduces herself as Dr. Renee Sinclair. She looks composed, yet relaxed and in her element. She sits and explains that she's been made thoroughly aware of my case, and received dental scans and x-rays from my physician back at the University. She also has the run down of my phobia of orthodontics. She tells me she's confident that the program she has me down for will work wonders for me.
Crap she's building up to something. I thought we were just gonna talk about options and do x-rays, but they're already done? She already has something ready? I really should've read that contract I signed.
She sees me already starting to tense up, and reassures me that it's a very fast process that'll help alleviate the pain in my mouth, and that I'll feel completely relaxed the whole time. I decide to go with it. I'm already here.
I'm led to an open, well lit room with the same big windows looking out at the park inside of the donut mall. I'm seated in the cream colored chair in the room's center as it's slowly lowered to a panic inducing position. Dr. Sinclair dawns a mask and places a clear, hissing one over my face. This is all happening really fast.
Aaaaand now everything's moving slower. She says something to her assistant about a "compliance case", and "behavior modification". She brings this big light over my face with a picture or pattern or something on the glass. Dr. Sinclair says to look at the center dot and to keep my eyes on it. I feel super dazed but I can at least keep my eyes on the dot and don't even question her. The whole room smells like soap and berries. The light starts flashing randomly, and different times as Dr. Sinclair says stuff I can't quite make out. At some point everything goes dark after the shapes of the room start to merge together.
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Love it can't wait for the next one
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You won't have to wait very long! ;)
Chapter 2
I can feel my feet moving beneath me before I can even see. I'm being helped up by two people as I'm walked to a different room. It feels like the whole world is spinning really fast around me and I can't feel anything besides my arms and legs. All the while I'm being told I'm doing great and that it's normal to feel a little loopy. Loopy's a bit of an understatement! I feel great! My vision starts to come back but I can hardly keep my eyes on anything. I'm led to a chair in a different room that I think had cream colored wallpaper? It's not as well lit, probably because there aren't as many big windows in this room. Once I'm in the chair, this one doesn't recline back, but it's got something in front of it? I thought they already had my x-rays? The machine is moved closer to my face, and Dr. Sinclair (I think) tells me to look at this red dot that's in the machine. I can see it! I'm looking at it. PWOOF
CRAP that scared me, my eyes just got hit with a puff of air, and just as quick as they puffed me they put these glasses on me and clicked them to something on my head. Was that there before? I try to feel for it but they gently moved my hands back down, saying I'm not supposed to take them off.
"Oh Okehh"
I'm led back into Dr. Sinclair's office, and at this point I can walk a little better. I can see pretty well too. The glasses were a little blurry at first, but now I can see just fine.
I try to ask the assistant if I'm done but something feels off. Wait I'm at an orthodontist. I try to feel around my mouth but my tongue's still too numb to be able to move it, let alone feel anything. Dr. Sinclair enters to explain my treatment.
Once she's seated, I glance out the window to see that it's the afternoon! How long was I out for? I notice the subtle tugs and pulls on my head and neck as I looked around. Am I wearing something?
Dr. Sinclair interrupts my thoughts as she begins explaining what's been done.
"So Alecia, I made sure to take very close care of your case in particular. Because of the severity of your facial injuries, and because those injuries healed in a way that was further damaging your bite, your parents and I found it best to begin your orthodontic treatment as soon as today."
She pauses, then smirks. "I notice that phrase didn't make you shudder this time. Or are we still a little loopy?"
I definitely wasn't that loopy. I thought about it, and sure enough I wasn't having a panic attack.
She pulls out a mirror and shows it to me. Holy Crap I look completely different!
Dr. Sinclair continued, "Because of your particular phobia of orthodontics, I went ahead and registered you with our practice as a "compliance case". We normally use this kind of classification with long term patients who have a history of non-compliance involving extra-oral appliances, but it's worked just as well in your case. We've started you off with a Full set of metal bands on every tooth, and because of your injury, the spacing wasn't a problem at all for installation. This will help us prevent any kind of improper tooth rotation. We followed this up with multiple sets of Herbts arms on each side of your mouth to ensure we can carefully control the regrowth of your bite. Lastly, the real eye-catchers; your headgear, and the extras. We've taken the liberty of installing a special set of appliances welded to your top molar bands, among these are your tongue crib, which will prevent your tongue from thrusting and displacing your top and bottom teeth, your two facebows, one welded to your top jaw, and the other to your bottom, and a newer device I've proudly dubbed the 'Sinclair Ball Appliance'. If you'll open up for me please..."
The mirror facing me, I did as she said, revealing a glistening, drool covered mess of shining metal and colorful plastic. Sure enough, in the roof of my mouth, behind what I'm assuming was the tongue crib, was the light green plastic ball attached to a one of the many transpalatal bars spanning my top palate, the others bending around the space where the little green ball sat. I naturally go for it with my tongue, only for it to smoothly roll my tongue away. I try again and again with no success. This thing moves way too easily for my to even keep it still with my tongue.
"This is a special appliance that will prevent your tongue from settling, ensuring your tongue won't accidentally find a way to bypass the tongue crib. The one downside, of course, is that your lisp won't be going anywhere for the duration of your treatment. In fact, it will likely be permanent."
"Wah leeshp?"
Oh. That lisp.
Dr. Sinclair smiles sympathetically. "Under normal circumstances, these appliances would simply be latched to the inner clasps of your molar bands, however, because of your status as a compliance case, policy requires that you're held to the same set of rules as the rest of our patients. My intention of registering you as a compliance case was for the use of behavioral modification."
She mentioned that earlier I think.
"We used our state of the art Light Operated Cognitive Modifier to, well, modify your feelings regarding braces and orthodontics. The science is very well tested, and the applications for extreme orthodontic cases involving projected non-compliance, such as your own, have proven invaluable to people with all kinds of unique orthodontic issues."
Uh oh
"Now, because you are classified as a compliance case, this means that all removable appliances are required to be welded and locked in, that you do not miss any appointments, and that you abide by specific instructions delivered by your Orthodontist, that's me! ;)"
This was starting to make sense. I realized I wasn't panicking at the fact that staring back at me this drooling brace face with a smile that could make Stevie Wonder wince.
"Wah abah duh glasheesh?" I pointed to the thick black square framed glasses clipped to my headgear straps.
"Ah, that. That happens to be standard policy regarding behavioral modification. You'll find that the more you wear them, the more you'll need them. It's a clever aspect that aids in the solidification of our work. Be sure to not remove them unless it's to sleep. The headgear however, stays on for the duration of your treatment."
I felt my heart skip a beat. I was just the tiniest bit of panicked. I can't take this stuff off? I looked into the mirror more closely and opened my mouth, now hearing the clicks of the metal scopes on the sides of my mouth. As the two facebows parted, I could see these huge shiny metallic bands wrapping around each and every one of my teeth, each wrapped with a bulky, bright red rubber band, which Dr. Sinclair later told me was because of my status as a compliance case. Normal patients don't have access to the color, whereas I'm required to have it, making it easier to distinguish compliance cases from regular ones. The bands were attached in such a way that not even Dad would be able to remove them with any kind of pliers. Below the bottom teeth and above the top ones were these sections of metal wiring encased in thick, baby blue plastic, making my cheeks and lips puff out even more, to help prevent the brackets from cutting the insides of my mouth or getting splinched in the scopes of my Herbst appliances. In the roof of my mouth was the shiny tongue crib with it's rather cute set of spikes, and behind it, that un-catchable slippery plastic ball that was going to keep me lisping for a while. I could see it, and the facebows, were welded to my molar bands, the facebows on the outside, and the crib and plastic ball to the clasps on the inside. By now I was drooling like crazy, and instinctively sucked back saliva in a rather embarrassing way.
Somehow, even though I wasn't exactly panicking, I was somehow, excited?
Happy? I wasn't sure what exactly all the flashing lights earlier meant, but I wasn't panicked like I thought I'd be, and I noticed that, for the first time in weeks, my mouth wasn't hurting! I asked Dr. Sinclair about this as she led me to the waiting room, and she happily elaborated.
"Well that would be partly because of your headgear. The configuration you're wearing is going to be settling both jaws using a strong pressure counter to that caused by your tongue after your injury. With you're headgear on constantly, and your tongue being prevented from settling, I can make sure your treatment is both effective and comfortable! Practical too, since there isn't a way for you to take any of it off."
She looked quite proud of herself. I was pretty impressed. In spite of the fact that I went from a normal looking College student to a major orthodontic look with thick glasses to boot, I was actually pretty happy about it! The lisping might be a challenge, and I'm not sure what the cheer team's gonna think, but this ended up being a relatively positive experience, considering what I was expecting to feel.
As I re-entered to the waiting room, Mom shot up from her seat with a inquisitive but excited look. With a smile and nod from Dr. Sinclair, Mom looked elated. As I walked over to check out with the same young woman with the braces, she asked for my name again.
"Aleeshea Sheleshh.."
Drooling.
Uh oh
She smiled warmly. "Try again, Sweetheart. Take your time."
I sucked back a glob of built up saliva.
"Aleeshhuh Shhuleshht.."
She looked pleased that I was trying. "Very good Alecia. Would next Tuesday be alright?"
I suck in again.
"Yeshh..."
I was blushing now. This might be more to get used to than I thought.
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this is really great so far
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Agreed what a great story so far hope the next chapter is soon
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Nice work
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This is a really good start for a story. Can't wait what the treatment plan goes on. Hope the next chapter coming really soon
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What a mouthful! Nice!!
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What I love about all of your stories is your specificity. You make sure to build your world, characters, and treatment plans up well, and always have something new to bring to the table in terms of ideas for appliances and treatments. While I haven't been able to finish book 2 since I haven't made it to the 30 posts yet for the story section, I hope to get there soon so I can finish that one, as well as anything else you may have written there. I was surprised but happy to see that you posted this one into general again!
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Yink yonk boys let's get it
Chapter 3
As we walk out of the clinic, Mom starts looking up places in and around the mall to decide where to eat. While she surveys the various websites available, I pull out my own phone to use as a mirror for a another look at what's just been cemented and locked into my mouth. I realize all of this oral equipment makes my mouth feel significantly heavier as I purse my lips to part the two massive facebows welded to my braces.
My braces.
My
Braces.
Just the idea makes me... giddy? For some reason I'm actually happy to hear the clicks of the herbst scopes flexing and activating as I open and close my metal-bound mouth. I try smiling, and it just feels right, although a little embarrassing, since my lips get caught in the blue plastic covered metal bars above and below my brackets. This requires me to manually free my lips from their hooked smiling position. Even resting my mouth, the two facebows are keeping my lips parted significantly, showing at least the glistening brackets. No matter where I go, people are probably gonna see my braces.
Still studying my new reflection, I notice that the thick, reinforced straps of my headgear are the same bright red as the "compliance case" rubber bands around each of my brackets, no doubt to further signify my classification.
Then it hits me.
Anyone remotely familiar with this clinic's practices will surely recognize the meaning behind the straps' color, as if the straps weren't already as eye-catching as a neon billboard at night. People are gonna see me from a mile away and think that I have to have all of this locked in because I wasn't a mature enough person to wear her appliances! Not a single person who actually knows about the "compliance case" is gonna be able to ignore them!
They're pretty hard for me to ignore even though I'm the one wearing them! The lenses of the glasses are massive, and big enough to where I don't have to worry about not being able to see what's around me. This also means that I can constantly see the two massive silver hoops encircling the bottom half of my face, and I can even make out the connecting straps well in my peripheral vision. I look through my phone to get a closer look at the straps, and where they attach to my facebows, there looks to be some bits of thin plastic boxes that fit together like a child's safety lock, except this one looks much harder to undo. I spot a small key hole on each clasp. I'm guessing Dr. Sinclair and/or Mom will have the key to these. I really am locked into these things.
As I turn my head back and forth getting different angles looking at my new compulsory aesthetic, the straps tugging at my head and neck with each turn, Mom gently pulls my hand away from my headgear straps, reminding me I'm not allowed to touch them.
"Shhowee..." I say with a smile that catches my lips again.
We start walking towards an Italian place in the malls inner plaza, on the other side of where we were. The menu had plenty of soft foods like pastas and lasagna that would be easier for me to eat, (supposedly), so it was a prime candidate. As Mom and I made our way along the walkways of the inner plaza's park, passing intricate concrete fountains and boisterous outdoor bars, I, of course, was the blessed recipient of an oh-so-copious amount of eyeing, peering, gawking, and whatever word you'd like to substitute for full on staring.
Then came the murmuring, and then the giggling.
At this point I was probably the same shade of red as my headgear straps, and the wind certainly wasn't helping my case. Since all of the hair from the crown of my head down to the back of my neck was held down by a set of straps strong enough to tow a trailer, with every gust unluckily blustering from the direction of the clinic, from where we were walking, my hair had made the decision, for itself, that behind me was not the place it was meant to be. No, the place meant for my unruly hair was to be tangled in the glistening, drool-coated facebows welded into my mouth. With each attempt to calmly untangle and pry my thick, healthy hair from my most obvious orthodontic contraptions, the wind seemed to respond appropriately with more hair-flailing gusts, seeming to chuckle at the futility of my efforts.
My saving grace comes in the form of Mom's pitiful expression, asking if I'd like to put my hair up. After subtly pointing to the locks on either side of my straps, Mom responds by pulling out a spare key, left to her by Dr. Sinclair. We scurry to a nearby bar to escape the early evening winds, only to be ogled at by the evidently packed venue. As Mom calmly insterts the key to my left strap lock, I continue untangling my hair, now that the malicious wind can no longer work directly against my efforts. I feel her unlock the section that connects to my glasses, as she instructs me to keep them on.
I'm curious if I can even see without them at this point.
After she unlocks the last clasp, I can see the actual shape of the headgear straps.
It's a complicated mess of thick, bright red, leathery material, with surprisingly heavy locks and clasps adorning it with further metal for others to gawk at. I can make out two rather large empty squares around where the crown of my head would fit, and Mom recommends two high pigtails to thread through the openings of the straps, like horns. I figure at this point, it's better than getting more saliva caught in my hair, and I fix my hair up high and perky with the ponytail holders Mom provides.
As I was examining the straps removed from my head, a small, sharp pain in either side of my mouth crept into my attention, only encouraging me to hurry so Mom could get my headgear straps back on as quickly as possible.
We moved to the closing act of our impromptu performance for the bar-goers, re-attaching the headgear straps. This consisted of placing the straps squarely on my head, simultaneously pulling my pigtails through the openings, and letting Mom firmly lock each individual facebow and glasses clasp from the left side of my head to the right. As soon as all are securely locked, the tension returns and the sharp soreness quickly fades. As we turn to leave, I'm surprised to see just how many members of our audience ended up sticking around and letting us keep their attention til the very end. Such a polite crowd.
Even though it was definitely rude of them to stare so obviously, I kind of liked it? I don't think pre-braces-me would've had the same feelings about our crowd's manners.
As we enter the half of the inner mall plaza where the Italian place is nestled, the wind tries teasing me again, but this time my long flowing pigtails whisp right past me as if eagerly rushing in the direction of food. Success! I begin to sympathize with them. Being unconscious for the "behavioral modification" must've left plenty of time for me to get hungry.
Just thinking about food makes the uncontrollable drooling loads worse. While thinking of food, a sizeable glob of my own spit is whisked into the wind to fly ahead of me. Mom quickly deals out a napkin from seemingly nowhere, and after wiping as much excess as the napkin could bear, I'm forced to resort to that loud, oh-so-embarrassing, orthodontic sucking, just to keep from letting loose any more streams.
If I'm having this much trouble keeping my drool under control, how am I supposed to manage actually eating food in a busy, public restaurant?
I can see Mom's expression, a mix of pride, relief and satisfaction, as the humble Italian place, "Vino's", comes into view. Because of my glasses, it takes us getting a bit closer for me to see that, just like the bar, the place is packed. Live music, performed loudly by an older pair that seem to be having more fun than kids in an arcade, radiates from the family owned restaurant. With all the outdoor tables occupied, my stomach drops as we're kindly ushered to an inside table, seemingly smack dab in the middle of the busy restaurant.
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Welded on/in Headgear! Wired in Headgear is a rarity, but welded? It's perfect! :D
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Thank you thank you all for the wonderful words of encouragement! <3 I'm very pleased to have some fun plans for this character!
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This is incredible so far! I love the reluctant protagonist, and I'm excited to see the "behavior modification" technology be explored! I was actually planning a story with similar technology, though applied in a different way. Alecia's appliances are beautifully described and so creative! I can't wait to see what Dr. Sinclair has in store for her!
Great Minds think alike! ;) Honestly, the behavioural modification idea was a personal touch I wasn't sure was going to land very well. Once I had developed it enough to tie a semi-realistic functionality and justifiable purpose, I was ripe and ready to begin developing a character whose perspective I could enjoy experiencing the story from. I think something special was lost whenever I told a story from a 3rd person narrative perspective. There're so many tiny details and little emotions that can breath life into a character and enrich their experience, and it's such a joy to craft an experience for that perspective. It may look like extra work, but meticulously imagining all the little details and how they fit together (and even the ones left missing ;) ) is one of the best parts about writing these stories. I don't usually start creating a story until I'm happy with a solid concept of something I'd like to see in a story. Ty very much for the kind words! <3
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What I love about all of your stories is your specificity. You make sure to build your world, characters, and treatment plans up well, and always have something new to bring to the table in terms of ideas for appliances and treatments. While I haven't been able to finish book 2 since I haven't made it to the 30 posts yet for the story section, I hope to get there soon so I can finish that one, as well as anything else you may have written there. I was surprised but happy to see that you posted this one into general again!
Thank you very much! I'm sure it seems like my stories are few and far between. I like to take a very "quality over quantity" approach to stories. I won't begin using characters and creating an environment until I'm pleased with a concept I think will work. At least this way my stories might be few in number, but you're very likely to enjoy them! ;D These concepts are usually things I think up randomly, and if I think it has promise, I'll take the time to develop it and put the details to paper. As far as detailing environments, it's honestly a blast to place myself in the shoes of the protagonist and craft a fun and interesting world around them that contributes to their experience, and thus, the story. The mindset that I use in every one of my artistic endeavours is always "make what you want to see". You can't really go wrong with that. ;)
Oh and I like the idea of posting them in general for a wider range of feedback. I also understand the struggle of finding new stories online as is. I'm happy to provide stories I'm passionate about to folks who'll read them <3
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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?
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This is bloody brilliant. Well written and inventive. Keep it coming
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I agree this is brilliant keep up the good work
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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.
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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?"
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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!
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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.
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Great story. Thank you for posting.
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Thank you for this update! I'm looking forward to hearing about the students visit during the next appointment
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Great next chapter... Looking forward how Alecia is going with her appliances
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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.
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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.
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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
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Alecia's gone from a Phobia, to loving her braces. Lucky lady.~ ;D
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Oh wow 2 brand new appliances in one story! She really does have quite the mouthful! I feel like I'd want to hear more about the newest addition to her mouth, just cause I'm not totally sure how it works quite yet!
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Can’t wait for the next chapter
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Smooth like Heaven, it's
Chapter 7 ;D
As I'm slowly walked back towards the clinic's waiting area, one of the students introduces herself as Caroline. She stands out as one of the taller students, sporting the same polo bearing the university's logo, her strawberry blonde hair held securely in a neat ponytail. She asks how the appliances feel in my mouth, and if I've had any discomfort since getting the appliances installed. The remaining charcuterie of students join her as others parrot her questions, suddenly interested in my comfort. Not impressed with their blatantly faux concern, I turn Caroline to answer her only.
Thinking about it, my braces have only felt great since I've gotten them. I know this is because of my headgear's specific configuration, but even the newer appliances such as the springs and metal frames suspending my jaws apart, and the rows of metal and plastic lining my jaws, the way everything fit so snuggly and tightly together felt really good. The thick mess of leather straps holding my headgear to the crown of my head down to the back of my neck made me feel better. Everything felt secure, and strangely I felt safe knowing the appliances weren't removable. I felt safe knowing I couldn't take them off.
"Eehy pheel gooh. Ligh shhicyerr."
My hands motion around my bright red headgear straps.
Caroline seems to understand as she excitedly writes into a tiny notebook, seemingly a little more at ease knowing I wasn't feeling any discomfort. No doubt Dr. Sinclair had talked about how the pressure applied by the facebows welded into my mouth was helping with the pain, but Caroline probably wanted to ask me for herself to make sure. She thanks me and I give my biggest smile.
Dr. Sinclair recommends I stay in the waiting area for a bit before leaving the clinic, noticing I'm still a bit wobbly from the behavioral modification. As I enter the waiting area, I notice a large poster mounted to the wall near the entrance, facing the reception desk. It displays an outline of brightly colored red appliances, warning patients of what awaits them if they aren't compliant with what their treatments demand. Was that there last Tuesday?
As I walk towards the reception desk, I can already feel multiple eyes glued to my red headgear straps. I hear a mother whispering to her son about wearing his headgear, no doubt my appliances are inducing a healthy dose of fear into would-be-uncompliant patients. I reach the reception desk only to be greeted by the same nice girl sporting the cute purple bands and herbst scopes.
"Hi again Sweetheart! What's the name?"
I suck back saliva
"Ahyeeshhuh Shhuheshhth"
"Try again Sweety. Take your time."
More drool. I suck back once more and wipe beneath my bottom lip with the sleeve of my sweater.
"Aahyleeshhah Shhuhyleshhth"
"Very good Alecia. We'll see you again in two weeks!"
She smiles warmly and hands me a light blue slip of paper with my next appointments' date, along with my name highlighted in red. I shakily find myself a seat against one of the walls facing the inner rows of chairs. Once I'm seated, I unzip the bib pocket of my bright yellow overalls to retrieve my phone, replacing it with the appointment slip, now neatly folded. Pressing the home button, I notice a few hours have gone by, but it's still early afternoon. I guess I'll have time to walk around the shops on the inside of the mall. For some reason, even though I now have yet another new appliance, the idea of walking around that clothing store doesn't seem as scary. Or maybe scary isn't the right word. The idea of it seems exciting I guess?
I swipe to open my phone's camera to get a better look at my new appliance. As the screen finishes loading, I'm once again shocked by the new look. I only got my braces, headgear, and glasses a week ago, but they look so natural on me. I turn my attention to my newest addition. Holding my facebows apart, a set of metal framing connected to spring-wrapped scopes line the inner sections of both of my facebows. Attached at multiple clasps on each facebow, even welded on the outer sections, these metal frames almost blend in with the facebows, while the scopes look a bit like the herbst appliances further in my mouth, accept these are wrapped in tightly coiled springs, applying ample force to both of my jaws. The spring-wrapped scopes seem to be the only parts of this new appliance that aren't directly cemented to the rest of my mouth. I can spot a section of the top and bottom frames that extend past the facebows and hook onto my archwires. My archwires! I notice that instead of a rounded wire, they're now square shaped with four sharp corners stretching the length of the two archwires. Now a little more coherent, I practice closing my mouth, and with great difficulty, I can hear the springs loudly squeaking and clicking as I manage opening and closing my shiny metal bound mouth. Relaxing my jaws, I notice my mouth is held intimately open for the world to see, my assortment of hooks and even the tongue crib made painfully obvious. Putting my phone back into the bib pocket of my overalls, I notice my fellow compliance case is nowhere to be seen. No doubt he went home, still embarrassed with his novel look. I'm certain in a few appointments he'll be having a better time. I decide to try standing again now that I'm a little less loopy. Finding myself perfectly steady, I decide a stroll around the mall isn't a bad idea at all! I think that clothing store will be a nice start, though I'm bound to get plenty of looks. I suck back saliva as a stream of drool creeps down my chin. Part of me is actually excited to be seen!
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Thanks for this most recent chapter and the whole story! I'm enjoying it a lot!
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I'm really enjoying this story. The way you did the restaurant scene in Chapter 4 was so well done.
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We all cant wait for,
Chapter 8
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I agree a great story so far with 2 of my favorite fetishes namely braces and glasses
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Can’t wait for the next chapter
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Hello hello friends!
It's been a turbulent past few weeks for yours truly. I'd like to make it known that I do have at least one other chapter in the works for this story, as well as new story being developed. Thank you all very much for the kinds words and encouragement! I hope you're all doing well. If any of you lovely folks do happen to think of something you'd like to see in the next story, please feel free to let me know! ;D
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Sorry I'm late! Here's
Chapter 8
Exiting the clinic, I'm hit with a familiar gust from my former adversary. With the glare of the sun as its aid, I instinctively squint, my expression drawing my lips further apart, revealing my menagerie of metal to passerby's. I spot the light of the sun snaking across my top facebow, magnified by the thick framed glasses locked to my headgear straps. The brisk wind artfully balances the heat of the full sun, adorning the outdoor section of the shopping mall with a complexion of adventure and zeal. As I begin to wonder across wide sidewalks towards the inner section of the mall containing the winsome clothing store, I scan the rim of the outdoor park, looking for other shops along the malls inner wall that might draw my interest.
The lights of an arcade logo dazzle the tiled sidewalks sat in front of open doors as cadres of teenagers and parents dragged along by children happily sprint about its interior. I make out a larger sign, flaunting strangely shaped colorful letters above an entrance to a roller skating rink. Sections of the interior open to twisting paths integrated with the outside sections I was navigating now, the paths lined with small statues and water features resembling iconic characters ranging from sports mascots to older TV characters, each with slight weathering, distorting their forms to the very edge of uncanny. Maybe roller skating would be better with a friend.
Finally, I spot a modern looking food court, furnished with simplistic color patterns of soft green, off white and beige. Clashing with the simplistic palette are various signs displaying a plethora of distinct food brands from an Italian pizza place, to an Italian sandwich place, and to my surprise, a Greek barbeque, among various others, each integrated into the building itself.
As the various smells of food reach me, I catch myself picking at my newest appliance, now coated in the same laminate of drool as the others, despite being outside of my mouth. I run my fingers across the damp metal springs enwrapping the scopes that separate my facebows. I feel the breeze twirl my pigtails, and the sections of my hair that see the sky are slightly cooler than those held securely by my bright red leather headgear straps. I suck back saliva as I begin to feel a stream of drool attempting to escape past my lips. I squeeze my jaws closed against the force of the springs, deliberating my next move. The food court? or the clothing store?
If I'm to take the route most visible, I'll have to attempt speaking to order my food, only to venture into the new territory of eating with my new appliance, in front of dozens of strangers, all without the support of Mom. The very thought is exhilarating!
If I continue my path towards the quaint clothing store, I'm bound catch even more attention, as there are more people indoors, not to mention the judgement of fashion conscious shop-goers who'll also be perusing the stock. The idea of having to awkwardly maneuver my headgear bound head through my sweater to try on clothes, all while for certain being the talk of the store as I pick what to try on while out of the dressing room had me enraptured!
I can't help but smile just thinking about it! ;D
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I've added the latest chapter to TheArchive.
That is a rather unusual treatment and nice reaction to it.
I look forward to the next installment of the series.
Braceface2015
TheArchive2018
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Loving this series! Cant wait for the next chapter
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This is so unique! I'd love to read more!
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Omg, the story is very stunning and detailed
I love how hopeless she is. Every pain, every uncomfortable and embarrassed feelings, every resistant thoughts have been force-changed to a possitive output (and a little kinky)
Love every part of it, thank you so much