Ginny’s Incontinence Procedure — Part 12

The following story contains adult content and is intended only for adult readers over the age of 18. Any characters depicted in adult situations are over the age of 18. This story is entirely fictional and has been written and shared for entertainment purposes only.

Ginny continued cowering on her knees on the floor of the pediatric exam room, sloppily sucking her thumb with one hand, and obediently mushing the seat of her poopy diaper into her bottom with the other, while Dr. Mallory stood over her, looking vaguely displeased as she watched Ginny’s utterly humiliating performance.

But then finally, Dr. Mallory perked up and clapped her hands, as if signaling a transition to a class of first graders.

“Alright, I think my immediate concerns about your ability to follow directions or tell the truth have been addressed adequately for now,” Dr. Mallory said. “So, you’ve had plenty enough of your fun with those hands, dear, you can put them back at your side like a good little girl, now, please.”

Ginny sheepishly slipped her thumb out of her mouth and let go of the butt of her diaper, blushing as she returned her hands to her sides. She couldn’t help but bristle at the doctor’s comment, which seemed to imply that rubbing her stinky diaper butt and sucking her thumb was Ginny’s idea, and not something she was being ordered to do.

“Alright, now let’s get back to the matter at hand regarding your discharge and supervision plan,” Dr. Mallory continued. “First of all, I do want you to know that your fears and concerns about being admitted to a psychiatric institution in your current circumstances are… reasonable. In fact, they’re very reasonable, despite the inappropriate way that you expressed those concerns at first.”

“They are?” Ginny asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes, very much so. In fact, I share many of the same concerns about admitting you as a patient to such a facility,” Dr. Mallory answered.

“Namely,” she continued, “I know your regressive incontinence disorder will never improve while you occupy a bed in a psychiatric facility. In fact, I can almost guarantee that your time in such a facility will permanently erode any hope of regaining your adult continence ever again.

“Oh sure, they will keep you comfortably diapered, fed, and hydrated every hour of the day. Likely while they keep you tightly strapped down in bed, so they always know where to find you for your diaper change and sponge bath.

“And I have no doubt they will competently monitor you closely for any more dramatic signs of mental or emotional deterioration. Which is why we have a responsibility to discharge you to an enhanced supervision program in the first place.

“But as your doctor, I’d be much happier to see you admitted to an altogether different program, if possible. One that still has a chance at treating and one day even potentially curing your severe idiopathic incontinence disorder,” Dr. Mallory explained.

“Is that… are you talking about…”

“Yes. I’m finally talking about the third discharge scenario,” Dr. Mallory answered. “It would consist of you being admitted to an exclusive pilot program called Home-Based Regression Rehabilitation.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up. It immediately sounded leagues better than the other options. The words ‘home-based’ seemed to indicate that it was at least a program she could do while still living at home, something that Ginny was extremely eager for, in comparison to being admitted to some sort of institution, the idea of which terrified her.

“The program is specially designed for cases of severe treatment-resistant incontinence,” Dr. Mallory continued. “Cases like yours. And truthfully, your speedy enrollment and participation in this particular exclusive pilot program would likely be your last and only chance in the world of ever regaining your potty-training abilities as an adult, now that we’ve had a glimpse at the true extent of your disorder.”

Ginny’s eyes widened with unexpected hope. There was still so much that had happened that day that had gone terribly wrong, most of it she had yet to process or make sense of, but it seemed that finally, against all odds, she had finally experienced a small bit of fortune. It seemed like there may be a solution to all her current terrifying problems after all… most notably, her seemingly incurable incontinence. It even seemed that perhaps Dr. Mallory really had been looking out for Ginny the whole time, if she was telling her about this program.

“There’s just one problem, though, and I’m very sorry to say this…” Dr. Mallory said, looking at her watch. “But I’ve just run out of time to make my decision. And as things stand now, I just can’t possibly recommend your admittance to the Home-Based Regression Rehabilitation pilot program, after all, despite the many advantages mentioned.”

“What?” Ginny asked, totally taken off guard.

“I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to make do at the psychiatric facility,” Dr. Mallory said, suddenly packing her things up. “I guess I had hoped our conversation this afternoon would have been more productive, but unfortunately, there’s still just a myriad of issues that make you incompatible with the Home-Based Regression Rehabilitation, and we just don’t have anymore time to address them. I’ll let Nurse Sunshine know you’re ready for her, so you can start your trip over to Downtown Mercy hospital before sundown.”

“What? I don’t understand,” Ginny blurted in confusion. She felt herself starting to panic. “You can’t—what are—but don’t you—“ She felt herself about to start shouting… but then she just barely managed to get a hold of her emotions, in order to stay ‘well-behaved’, despite her sudden tears of confusion and betrayal.

“Please, ma’am, will you please tell me why I’m incompatible, if you don’t mind? Pretty please? I really have tried very hard to be a very good girl for you since you last asked, I swear,” Ginny begged.

Dr. Mallory smirked. “Well, that’s true. I believe you have started trying very hard to be a good girl, I’ll grant you that. But nonetheless, the primary issue is that the Regression Rehabilitation program won’t work for a patient like yourself, who’s still in denial.”

“In denial? In denial about what … ma’am?” Ginny asked.

“About the true cause of your incontinence and subsequent destructive misbehavior,” Dr. Mallory said.

“The true cause? I… I don’t understand,” Ginny pleaded.

“I know you don’t, hon. Most little girls still waddling around in poopy diapers don’t understand most things,” Dr. Mallory said, giving the seat of Ginny’s mushy diaper a condescending pat. “But I’m sorry, we’re simply out of time, and I have to make my decision.”

Dr. Mallory started walking away, only for Ginny to chase her and fall to her knees before her once again.

“Please, Miss!” Ginny begged. “Please try to explain it to me. Just give me one chance. I’ll do anything!”

Dr. Mallory folded her arms and looked down at Ginny groveling at her feet, once again secretly reveling in the sight.

After a moment, Dr. Mallory let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, hon, let’s review the facts, shall we?” Dr. Mallory began.

“You came into our clinic some months ago complaining of minor urinary incontinence, due to increasing episodes of bladder leakage, as well as slight concerns about early signs of fecal incontinence, due to the brown skid marks in your panties discovered by our nurse during your initial consultation.

“You then received state of the art incontinence corrective surgery for both. Primarily for your urinary incontinence, but also for your fecal incontinence out of an abundance of caution.

“After the successful surgical correction, you received months of diligent after-care follow-up and post-surgical site assessments, confirming the procedure was highly successful, and there was no longer any possible physical cause of your incontinence.

“And yet, somehow, what we’ve learned today is that throughout this whole post-surgical period, your incontinence only got worse and worse, to the point that you became reliant on diapers again. Disposable diapers! At your age! Just to keep your pants dry throughout the day!

“And today, not only did we discover the irresponsibly disposed of, disgusting evidence of your unrestrained diaper wetting, in the form of the sopping wet, pee-soaked diaper you left in our bathroom…

“We also witnessed firsthand the true shocking pinnacle of your spiraling, infantile incontinence as you squatted down and pushed a massive poopy load into your diaper like a toddler, right in the middle of my office, right in front of me and my head nurse. And right while you happened to have been proclaiming that you didn’t even need diapers at all anymore!

“And we know that you reached the moment of this unspeakably pitiful poopy diaper accident after weeks of rapidly worsening urinary continence regression via your concealed voluntary diaper dependence.

“Even though I myself confirmed once again this very morning with my own eyes that there was absolutely no longer any possible physical cause of these severe incontinence symptoms.

“And so, we are faced with the mystery, of why the adorable little Ginny MacIntosh, who emphatically claims that she does not like to poop her pants, wet her diapers, or depend on adult-sized disposable pampers… is still relentlessly peeing and pooping her pampers non-stop 24 hours per day, no matter where she is, who she’s with, or what she’s doing. Because, once again, we know there is zero possible physical cause of her incontinence.”

Dr. Mallory took a breath, then continued.

“You see, Ginny. This was the question I wanted you to truly answer when I asked you a short time ago why you still messed your pants, despite supposedly detesting the sensation of waddling around in your poopy diaper.

“You told me that it was just an accident. The soaked and poopy diapers were always all just accidents. It’s a predictable refrain… but at this point, an insufficient one.

“Because we know now these are not physical accidents, caused by some defect in your physical body. Instead, we can only logically conclude that you are wetting and soiling yourself for a different reason altogether. And that your subsequent trail of lies, deception, and pathological falsehoods, all connect to that very same reason.

“Therefore, I can’t in good conscience recommend you for the Home-Based Regression Rehabilitation program that you want to be a part of, because you’re yet to even admit the real truth about why you’re really in diapers again. Because it’s only when you finally admit and face the truth about the cause of your rapid degenerative diaper dependence, that you’ll ever have a chance of addressing the root cause of your condition, and hopefully still one day re-gaining your potty-training as an adult.

“And without that, should you choose to remain in denial, I can only medically recommend you for the psychiatric hospital at best, where, as your doctor, I know that at least your dirty diapers will be responsibly changed, even if your chances of ever regaining your potty-training will be effectively permanently forsaken.

“So, my little stinker-bell, does that finally help you understand the importance of that question?” Dr. Mallory concluded.

Ginny stared up at Dr. Mallory with wide, baffled eyes. At some point, she had fallen back onto her poopy butt and started sitting cross-legged on the exam-room carpet, listening like a toddler during story time, while she tried to keep up with all the confusing things the doctor was saying.

She was at a loss for how to possibly respond. Especially because as she played back the doctor’s words in her head, it seemed like Dr. Mallory was calling Ginny a liar! Like she was suggesting that Ginny’s accidents weren’t actually accidents at all, which was ridiculous. Diapers were the last things on earth Ginny ever wanted to be wearing!

But as angry as she felt, she quickly stifled that anger with her terror before the towering Dr. Mallory, especially knowing that her fate was totally in her hands.

Finally, after a long silence, all Ginny managed to squeak was… “But Dr. Mallory, what if… what if I really, really don’t know about any reason for why I’m having all these accidents? Honest.”

Dr. Mallory sighed. “Well, Ginny, truthfully, that was part of why I had the nurses put you in timeout for so long this afternoon. From what I understand, you were even specifically asked by Nurse Roberts to use your time out to reflect on this very question—what is the real reason behind all the things you did that caused you to end up in the naughty corner in a poopy diaper in the pediatric exam room, today?

“Well, regardless, now that time has come and gone. And since you still don’t have a real, honest answer for me about the true cause of your severe degenerative incontinence, after everything we discussed, I think it’s time for you to finally be discharged, and on your way to a care setting better suited for your obstinate disposition regarding the topic of your poopy pampers.”

And with that, before she even had a chance to interject, Ginny watched with wide, horrified eyes as Dr. Mallory finally turned and marched out of the room. This time, there was no stopping her.

Then, in her place, immediately came a sight that would haunt Ginny for the rest of her days…

* * *

Suddenly, barreling through the exam room door, came Nurse Sunshine and Nurse Roberts pushing a wheelchair.

Except it wasn’t like any wheelchair Ginny had ever seen before. It was heavier, taller, and outfitted with every conceivable medical restraint imaginable.

Harnesses, cuffs, straps and buckles all dangled from every corner, clanging and jostling like a sinister orchestra with the chair’s every move.

It was like a straitjacket on wheels. Something out of her worst nightmares. And all Ginny could do was freeze in horror as the terrifying harbinger of her future rolled toward her like a freight train.

“Alright, poopy-pants. Let’s get you up and secured in your safety chair for your ride over to Downtown Mercy,” Nurse Sunshine said, walking around behind Ginny. “If you’re extra good for us, I’ll even try to talk the charge nurse there into changing that poopy diaper of yours before bedtime. Otherwise, they might make you sleep in it all night, till morning,” she snickered.

Ginny winced in horror. She had no idea if Nurse Sunshine was joking or not.

“Just remember,” Nurse Roberts added. “If you think we’re strict, the orderlies there are going to make us look like doting old grandma’s in comparison. I’d really try to avoid ever letting them catch you on anything but your best behavior. For your own sake,” Nurse Roberts said with a similar dark chuckle.

Suddenly, it all hit Ginny at once.

She was not only totally urinary and fecal incontinent now, but Dr. Mallory’s decision meant Ginny officially had no hope of ever regaining her continence again, no matter what.

Then, she was about to be strapped down limb by limb and carted off to a padded room across town, where she would be forcefully diapered and medically imprisoned for some indeterminate amount of time… weeks, months, maybe even years, for all she knew.

And worst of all… her bottom was just soooo itchy, and stinky, and messy, and yucky from waddling around in her humiliating poopoo mess for so long. And she just really, really, really, really needed a diaper change!

Suddenly, just as the two nurses were about to grab Ginny to lift her up into the wheelchair…

Ginny started screaming. Screaming and wailing. Screaming and wailing and crying and kicking and sobbing and flailing and writhing…

It had all finally become just too much.

* * *

The two nurses were startled for a split second. But then they both exchanged knowing looks and rolled their eyes.

As Ginny proceeded to frantically throw herself on the floor and kick and scream and spin and flail and roll around wearing nothing but her gown and messy diaper… they knew exactly what was happening. They’d of course seen it all a hundred times before.

Ginny was throwing a tantrum. A true, toddler-level, adult-sized tantrum. Her screams and tears were incoherent. Her volume was off the charts. And she hardly had a rational thought in her brain.

To anyone watching, it was hard to imagine a more pathetic and humiliating thing for the adult-aged girl to do. But it didn’t matter to Ginny. She didn’t have a choice! Everything was just so out of her control and unfair… all she cared about was letting the world know that she was just so, so upset! All she cared about in that moment was throwing the loudest, most frantic tantrum of her life!

Her immediate surroundings, and everything that was wrong with them, left Ginny’s mind as she descended into a state of knowing nothing but throwing her flailing, sobbing, screaming fit.

The two nurses were no strangers to subduing an out of control juvenile patient. Even if this one was wearing a diaper a wee bit bigger… and admittedly much stinkier… than their typical pre-potty-training patients.

Nurse Sunshine and Roberts calmly worked together to get Ginny up into the safety chair, safely and methodically strapping her down limb by limb, despite her non-stop screaming, flailing, shoving and crying.

As they firmly subdued and strapped her down, Ginny was in a private whirlwind of sensory and emotional overload—her flailing limbs, her hoarse screams, her snot, drool and tears smeared across her face and gown, her poopy diaper mushed and smeared ever further and messier into her groin and bottom again and again and again…

As Ginny descended deeper into her flailing, screaming, crying ineffectual rage, she broke further and further with the reality around her.

And somewhere, deep in Ginny’s brain, as they foisted her into the wheelchair and tightly strapped her down limb from limb, she was a toddler again being put into her stroller by her Mommy and Daddy against her will.

“Mommy, no!!” Ginny suddenly screamed through her closed, teary eyes. “I don’t want to ride in the stroller! I have a messy diaper! I need a diaper change, Mommy! Mommmmmyyyy!!!”

Nurse Sunshine and Nurse Roberts looked at each other and burst into laughter. Which only made Ginny more upset.

“Stop it!” Ginny shrieked in her spiraling, confused daze, helplessly flailing against her restraints. “Stop laughing at me! I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby!”

But the two nurses couldn’t help but only laugh harder at the pathetic sight of the adult woman in a poopy diaper, wailing for her Mommy… and screaming about how she wasn’t a baby.

“Stop it!” Ginny only cried harder. “I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby!” Ginny shrieked and cried at the top of her lungs again and again. “I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby, I swear! I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby! I’m not ahhh—“

Suddenly, Ginny’s words trailed off as the very last strap of her special restraint wheelchair was secured… and yanked extra tight.

It happened to be the strap that ran down from her chest harness… through her legs… then pulled up tight against her crotch.

Very tight.

“There, that’s better!” Nurse Roberts said, giving the crotch strap one final yank for good measure. “Nice and secure… and nice and quiet.”

“Please do stay that way, dear,” Nurse Sunshine added. “Quiet, that is. Otherwise we will have to use the gag. And from what I hear from past poopy babies, the gag doesn’t taste very nummy at all”, she snickered.

With their patient finally quiet and secure, the nurses began rolling Ginny toward the door. But neither nurse had any idea the real reason Ginny had suddenly just abruptly gone silent.

… Even Ginny needed a moment before she realized it herself.

* * *

As the nurses rolled Ginny forward, Ginny’s eyes rolled backward from a sudden wave of unexpected, radically disarming euphoria.

The sense of confusion, rage, and helplessness fueling her tantrum all suddenly began to dissipate. And she found herself slowly coming back to reality from the humiliating childhood memory she had somehow confused herself into thinking she was in.

The words she had been screaming out loud just moments ago… I’m not a baby… were still on her lips. And the faint images of being trapped in that stroller, calling for her Mommy, were still ever so slightly in the air.

But now, her attention was being more keenly focused on the present every second. Because there just so happened to be a very sturdy strap currently pulled up extra tight into her crotch.

Into her diapered crotch.

Into her poopy, soggy, diapered crotch.

And when she made the slightest of moves in her seat… she felt a shockwave of tingling, naughty, perverse pleasure.

Suddenly, Ginny was biting her lip, almost unconsciously grinding her poopy diaper against her wheelchair straps, as the nurses started rolling her down the hallway.

In a flash, she was suddenly back where she was on the floor of the bathroom that morning, when the elderly woman had witnessed her doing the unthinkable in that very same wet diaper…

With every slight bump, turn, start or stop the nurses made with the wheelchair, it took Ginny all she had to keep from moaning out loud with pleasure.

She knew what she was doing was so naughty. So filthy. So dirty… But she just couldn’t help herself! It just felt too indescribably good!

But then… a jab of shame. Of reluctant awareness flooding back to her.

The day’s events started painfully returning to her diaper-addled mind. What she did in that bathroom in her soggy diaper—and what she was doing in that same filthy diaper now—and the horror of every event that happened that day since.

Ginny tried to mentally pull away from the sensation in her loins. The way her hips seemed to be grinding into her filthy diaper, out of her control. She tried to steel herself, disavow the filthy thoughts. She tried to return to the refrain she had frantically pleaded only moments ago…

I’m not a baby… I’m not a baby… I’m not a baby…

Except suddenly, without conscious thought, the words came out instead….

I’m just a naughty baby… A naughty little baby… I’m just a naughty, stinky, poopy diaper baby…

Even worse, the words left her lips in the form of a hot and heavy private whisper.

And she couldn’t stop.

I’m a naughty baby, she whispered to herself, her eyes closed, writhing her poopy diaper mess into her privates in shame and unbearable pleasure. A stinky naughty baby.

I’m a naughty, stinky, dirty diaper pooping baby.

I deserve to wear diapers.

Because I need diapers.

Because I’m just a stupid, stupid little baby. That’s who I really, really am.

Suddenly, Ginny’s eyes shot open.

She snapped out of her sexual euphoria and looked around, the wheelchair still rolling her forward.

She had just been struck by a powerful revelation. She knew the answer. She finally knew the answer to the fateful question Dr. Mallory had raised, just before she left.

In a sudden panic, Ginny shouted out to the nurses pushing her forward, “Wait! Wait, I need to talk to Dr. Mallory!”

But unfortunately for Ginny… Nurse Sunshine and Nurse Roberts had zero interest in doing Ginny any favors. Least of all now, after her recent little poopy diaper tantrum. If they heard her, they showed no sign of it.

“Nurse Sunshine, Nurse Roberts. Please, stop, I need to talk to the doctor again,” Ginny pleaded.

But they ignored her, seemingly only pushing her even faster down the hallway in her wheelchair. They were almost to the lobby. Presumably to continue through the front door, to a waiting medical transport.

Ginny began to panic.

“Dr. Mallory! Dr. Mallory, please, come back, quick! I figured it out! I know why I wet my diapers!” Ginny screamed in every direction around them, attracting looks of amusement and disgust from patients in the hallway and nearby exam rooms.

“Quiet down! Or else you’re getting the gag,” Nurse Roberts threatened, squeezing Ginny’s shoulder hard.

But Ginny ignored her. “Dr. Mallory! Dr. Mallory, please!” Ginny shouted. “I finally figured it out! My diapers! My wet and poopy diapers! I uhhhhffhfhgg—“

Suddenly, Ginny was gagged by a massive rubber intruder in her mouth.

“We warned you, stupid girl,” Nurse Sunshine said as she wrapped the pacifier-like object around Ginny’s head.

Ginny gagged for a moment, the rubber intruder stifling and startling her. But then she quickly summoned the resolve to just shout louder.

Her muffled screams were certainly fueled by desperation. But also, strangely… excitement. Ginny began shouting for the doctor through her gag like a child shouting with excitement for their Mommy, because they just learned to spell their name, and were dying to show it off, and make them proud.

The wheelchair rolled into the lobby.

Ginny looked around at the sea of judgmental faces, all other patients, all staring at her in mixtures of disgust, amusement, shock, as the nurses pushed the flailing, restrained, diapered girl forward through the waiting room.

They might as well have all been pointing and laughing. The parents in the lobby pointed at Ginny and explained to their kids she was ‘the potty failure’, due to her stinky diapers. And the elderly pointed at her and laughed with one another, relishing the fact that they could never look as pathetic in their struggle with their incontinence as the stinky, youthful adult baby tied up in a wheelchair before them.

But Ginny only kept shouting even louder for the doctor through her gag, despite it only increasing the humiliating level of attention. Shouting for her salvation. It was hard not to hear her cries as those of ‘Mommy, Mommy’, as drool poured down her chin, and she was pushed ever-closer to the doorway, and to her doom.

But just before she was pushed over the threshold… a voice from behind them brought the nurses and Ginny to a halt.

“Nurses, please, it’s okay. I’d like to give her one last chance.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. They slowly turned her wheelchair around.

It was Dr. Mallory. She was standing there, her arms folded, her face stern.

But it was her. She had returned. Ginny’s one and only savior. And Ginny couldn’t help but shed a tear in the moment. A tear of sheer joy.

She felt like a lost child who had just turned the corner, and against all odds, laid eyes upon her Mommy once again.

* * *

Suddenly, Ginny felt the gag being removed from her mouth. She looked up from the wheelchair with her face full of drool, her diaper full of poopy mess, and the crowded office waiting room full of other patients all now carefully watching as she sat there, looking up at the Doctor.

“Well?” Dr. Mallory said. “Did you finally have a real answer to my question? That is, the true, root cause of your pathetic, baby-like incontinence, given the lack of any possible medical cause?”

Ginny nodded, slowly gathered her breath. “Doctor Mawowy,” she suddenly unintentionally lisped, inspiring giggles at her expense from members of the immature, morbidly fascinated audience around her in the crowded waiting room.

“Dr. Malowy,” she lisped again, “the weal reason I wet myself, and poop myself, and need to wear diapers like a pathetic baby, is because deep down… I am a pathetic baby!

“I must be! It’s the only explanation. If I don’t have medical incontinence like an adult, I must have just plain old lack of potty-training, like a baby! Or just plain old dumb-dumb baby-brains who only knows how to go potty in their diadee!

“Because as much as I think I want to be potty trained like a big girl, there must be some other part of me that knows I can’t handle it. Or even that I don’t deserve it. That knows that I’m too babyish and dumb to use the potty. Because it’s true! No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop wetting and messing myself! No matter how hard I try! I need my diapers. And it must be because some part of me deep down knows I need my diapers. Knows I’m a filthy, naughty, pants-pooping baby.

“And the worst part of all, the real reason I really, really know this, I’m not just guessing, is because sometimes… I’m extra, extra naughty. So naughty, I try to block it out and forget when it happens.

“But it happens. And by it, I mean… I touch myself. In a no-no, icky way. I feel myself in my naughty, squishy diaper messies. I do what the woman told you I did this morning. I’m so ashamed to admit the truth, but I’m like a baby caught with their hand in the cooky jar. Because it’s true. What she saw me do to myself, in my yucky, yucky, stinky, soiled diadee…

“I know I need to be punished for it, I really, really do. Because the worst part is, I could barely even remember the filthy things I did, afterwards. It just came so naturally to touch myself in my filthy diaper mess. Even though one part of me knows it’s so wrong. But the part in charge of my… privates and bottom and all my little sensitive naughty areas knows it’s also so, so right….

“And that’s the real cause of my messy, diapees, Doctor! I’m just a baby. A real big, stupid, stinky, baby! Too naughty and stinky to get potty-trained. Just a stupid, stupid pathetic little baby. I’m not really an adult at all. I’m just a stupid baby who needs her diapees,” Ginny shouted, finishing her confession.

She collapsed against her restraints for a second, gasping for breath. She was more shocked than anyone by everything that had just come out of her.

And although she was shaking from exhaustion and terror… she also felt like a thousand pounds had just been lifted off her shoulders. She had finally done it. She had finally confessed and faced the truth. In a way… she was already free. Despite the dozens of straps and restraints currently tying her down in her poopy diaper.

Or at least, that’s how she felt for a moment. Until she slowly lifted her gaze back up.

The room was dead silent. Dr. Mallory stared down at her, her face just as cold as ever.

Ginny’s cheeks started to burn red.

She could suddenly feel the weight of every other person in that room, staring at her. Witnessing her unspeakably humiliating confession. Smelling her poopy diaper… and many even stealing peaks at it under her flowing hospital gown.

Oh no, had she made a mistake? What had she done?

Was any of that really even true? She felt so turned around and lost…

Tears started coming to Ginny’s eyes. The emotional pressure felt like it was about to shatter her into a million pieces….

Finally… Dr. Mallory cracked the slightest of smiles.

She slowly approached Ginny, then placed her hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

“Oh, my little girl. My darling, precious Little Ginny MacIntosh,” Dr. Mallory said.

“What’s going on? Did I mess up?” Ginny asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Mess up? No, no, no. You’ve finally done it! You’ve finally realized and admitted the truth! I’m so, so proud of you!” Dr. Mallory said.

“Really?” Ginny asked, suddenly cracking a small smile of hope through her tears. “I got it right?”

“Yes, my dear. You got it exactly right. You said exactly what you needed to say for me to admit you into the third discharge program we talked about, after all,” Dr. Mallory said.

“Really? So I don’t have to get taken to go get locked up in the mental hospital by Nurse Sunshine and Nurse Roberts, after all?” Ginny beamed like a toddler on her first birthday.

“That’s right, my angel, that’s right. I’m going to have you enrolled in the special Home-Based Regression Rehabilitation program immediately. Now, that you’ve finally admitted the full truth, and know the true cause of your diaper dependence, it’s the only thing that makes sense,” Dr. Mallory said.

“Oh, Dr. Mallory, thank you! Thank you so much!” Ginny said, now crying tears of joy, as Dr. Mallory wrapped her arms around her. Ginny just couldn’t wait to finally go home, which is what she assumed the title of the program meant.

“But first thing’s first,” Dr. Mallory said, standing up and saying it loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Let’s take care of this baby’s awful, stinky, diaper!”

With that, the whole crowded waiting room burst into an explosion of gleeful laughter, the tension finally released. Even Ginny couldn’t help but giggle as well as they all pointed and laughed at what a baby she was. She was just so relieved and unexpectedly full of hope.

“Come on, stinkerbell, we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Dr. Mallory said, walking around and taking control of Ginny’s wheelchair. ”And I’m not just talking about how many wipes it’s gonna take me to clean up that bum.”

Dr. Mallory started rolling Ginny back into the clinic. Back down the hallway, back toward the pediatric exam room.

Ginny was still too dazed with relief and joy to possibly soberly reflect on the implications of the situation. That is, she wasn’t being released at that moment… she was being rolled back into the clinic, still diapered and strapped to her wheelchair.

However, unfortunately for Ginny, her naive optimism would hardly be lasting much longer in the face of the cruel revelations she was about to uncover…

TO BE CONTINUED

IN PART XIII