Diapered at the Dentist: Part 4

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.

“Dr. Owens should be here in a minute for her exam,” Erin, the dental hygienist, says to my Mommy. “Then, depending on what he sees, we may go right into the procedure.”

“Oh, perfect,” my Mommy smiles.

I stand there in my droopy, soggy, pee-soaked yellow diaper, perplexed and frightened about whatever they seem to be talking about. I definitely didn’t expect them to be doing a lot more work in my mouth today, after what I’d already been through.

“Well, if we have a minute, I should get a snack in her, then,” my Mommy says. “Otherwise I know she’ll start getting too fussy to handle.”

At the mention of a snack, my tummy rumbles, and I realize I would enjoy a little something to eat after everything that just happened. But then my Mommy grabs my diaper bag, and I watch her pull out the ‘snack’ that she’s referring to.

“Come here, Buttercup,” my Mommy says, holding the extra-large baby bottle full of milk. “Come get your snack.”

I blush bright red. I glance toward Erin, and even after everything she’s seen me do to humiliate and degrade myself already, I still detect in her face a reaction of surprise and secondhand embarrassment at just what an utter baby I still am at my age.

“Mommy, nooo,” I whimper. “I want a real snack…”

“Sorry, hon, but this is your real snack. This is what I packed for you. And besides, the dentist doesn’t want to look into your mouth and see crumbs right after you just got a cleaning. So come to Mommy and drink your ba-ba. Unless you want another spanking,” my Mommy says.

My hands shoot down to my rear end and rub my just-now-blistered bottom through my soggy diaper. Even if my bottom wasn’t still literally stinging from my Mommy’s hairbrush spanking a moment ago, I’d still do anything to avoid ever getting spanked like that again.

“Yes, Mommy,” I whimper, looking down. “Can I at least put my shortalls back on?” I ask, suddenly remembering that I’m still wearing nothing but my diaper below my waist.

“No,” my Mommy says. “We’re already short on time, and I probably need to change your diaper shortly, here, anyway.”

“Hmph…” I quietly pout as I go to my Mommy and climb up on her lap as she sits in the dental chair.

“That’s my good baby girl,” she says as she lays me down, positions my head on her lap, and puts the enlarged milk bottle into my mouth.

Normally, I might insist I can hold and drink the milk bottle myself, but I realize that I’m still trapped wearing the thick pink safety mittens on my hands, and I suspect they would make even such a simple task too difficult for me.

I reflexively start suckling on the extra-large rubber teat. Admittedly, the milk is delicious. But I find it hard to relax or feel much comfort from my infantile ‘snack’, given the incredible embarrassment and shame I feel from being so utterly exposed, suckling a milk bottle in my Mommy’s lap, out in the open, while wearing nothing but an obviously urine-soaked diaper.

After several more minutes, and the milk bottle almost finished, I finally start to relax enough to just close my eyes…

“So she’s still bottle-feeding, huh?” a man’s voice suddenly asks.

My eyes shoot open. There’s a tall, handsome man in the doorway. He’s wearing scrubs and changing his latex gloves over a trashcan.

“Unfortunately, yes,” my Mommy replies with a sigh. “I obviously wish she had outgrown it, Dr. Owens. Really. But hey, I wish she had outgrown disposable diapers, and yet, here we still are,” my Mommy says, suddenly reaching down and giving the crotch of my exposed, sopping wet diaper a squeeze, making my eyes practically bulge out of my head.

I blush bright red. To my surprise, I realize this is the dentist. Dr. Owens. I don’t know what I was expecting, but to my dismay… he’s extremely hot. Muscular. Bold. Masculine and self-assured.

I suddenly feel one hundred times as embarrassed about my horrifically babyish diaper and milk bottle in front of him. So much so, I don’t even have the courage to possibly argue with my Mommy about her saying that I supposedly still depend on drinking milk from a baby bottle. (After all, I only drink milk from a bottle when she makes me! Usually when she decides I’m ‘getting too fussy’…). Instead, I’m forced to just bite down even harder on the rubber teat in my mouth and finish suckling my milk in silence.

“How are we feeling about the procedure options we were discussing?” Dr. Owens asks my Mommy.

“I think if it all looks feasible, as much as we can get started on today, the better. It’s like you said when you showed me her x-rays in the other room… every day we wait, the problems probably only get that much worse,” my Mommy says.

My heart flutters. I realize that the reason my Mommy left the room earlier was to talk to Dr. Owens about whatever this… ‘procedure’ is that they’re discussing. I still have no idea what they mean. Every second that passes, I grow more nervous, yet I’m too terrified to possibly confront them out loud and ask.

“Well if she’s done with that bottle, let’s open her mouth up so I can take a look before we proceed with any decisions. Erin, can I get your help?” The dentist asks.

My Mommy gets up from the dentist chair and lays me down in it in her place. I wince as I feel the familiar squish of my cold and soggy diaper.

Erin reclines the back of the chair, and suddenly, I’m staring up at Dr. Owens while he shines a light into my face.

“Open up and say, Aaaah,” Dr. Owens says.

I comply and immediately feel his strong, long fingers plunging into my mouth. “Alright, let’s see here…” I hear him mutter as he begins to finger my teeth, my gums, my tongue, my throat.

He grabs his dental tools, the mirror and probe, and starts inspecting my mouth a lot closer, turning my head this way and that, with his strong hand directing me by my chin.

“Go ahead and bite down for me… Uh-huh. And open wide? Okay…” he says a few different times while he continues his inspection.

I suddenly feel a familiar twinge in my bladder. I realize I have to pee yet again.

I suppose it’s no coincidence. I’ve been leaking like a faucet for the past hour, and by now, being forced to remain still while my mouth is probed and serviced seems to send a message directly to my bladder that it’s time to ‘go’. Not to mention, my nervousness seems to make me have to go even more, and I’ve only been growing more anxious by the second…

Hissssss.

I subtly spread my legs and begin peeing again, almost without any conscious decision on my part. At this point, I realize I’ve resigned any hope of regaining my continence, at least today, anyway.

Except… oh no. There’s not just the feeling of relief in my bladder…

There’s also a new sense of growing wetness! It’s creeping outside my diaper…

I’m leaking! I realize in horror, as I remain immobilized, with my mouth being held open and probed by the dentist. I can feel my pee puddle pooling on the dental chair under my padded butt, spreading upward and soaking into my shirt.

I squeeze my eyes shut in silent shame in horror. I should have know my diaper was at capacity, I think to myself. I should have just held it till I got changed.

But then again… could I have even held it if I wanted to?

My thoughts are interrupted by Dr. Owens popping his fingers out of my mouth.

“Alrighty!” he turns and says to my Mommy. “Well, the unfortunate news is that her teeth, palate, and bite are all as severely malformed and dysfunctional as I feared. When I walked in, I saw that she was still nursing from a baby bottle. Does she also still suck her thumb for comfort like a baby?”

Before my Mommy can answer, Erin suddenly pipes up from the corner, answering for her. “Yes, she does. I watched her immediately start eagerly suckling her thumb earlier, the second she was put down for her very short nap,” Erin says.

I blush, humiliated that now Erin is also piling on to publicly expound upon my babyish behavior. Sucking my thumb was pretty rare and embarrassing for me, so hearing my accidental infantile moment earlier get documented and reported makes me feel ten times even more babyish.

Dr. Owens nods. “Yes, yes, I can see evidence of that ongoing infantile behavior in her current dental condition. You see, knowing that these are infantile oral habits we can’t expect her to change, due to her lack of mental aptitude from her psycho-physiological regressive condition, as I understand it, I’m concerned that we have every reason to believe that her current dental malformations are imminently degenerative. Her dental state will only continue growing rapidly worse, unless we quickly take drastic corrective action.”

My head is spinning. The dentist’s big and confusing words are flying over my head and I can’t keep up, especially now that my mind is so preoccupied thinking about my leaking, cold, soggy diaper. All I can think about is how badly I want my Mommy to change me.

My mind and body are suddenly exhausted. I realize the milk is causing me to succumb to a sudden wave of tiredness. My eyes start to close. I feel like I’m shrinking, and my little brain is getting smaller, as their conversation only gets more overwhelming and difficult for me to keep up with.

“It sounds like that’s exactly the condition you suspected when we talked about her x-rays,” my Mommy replies.

“Exactly,” the dentist says. “But if that’s the bad news, here’s the good news. Her state of oral dysfunction is actually the perfect candidate for the procedure options we were discussing. Specifically the full dental package I presented to you.”

“Well, if it’s confirmed that that’s what she needs, then, yes. Let’s proceed with it as soon as possible,” my Mommy says.

“Perfect,” Dr. Owens replies. “We’ll get started and have the first phase of the procedure finished within a few short hours from now. While we do that, you can go up front to finalize the financial and scheduling details, as well as get briefed by my other assistant on all the other aspects of maintenance and upkeep in the coming months.”

“Perfect! Thank you, Doctor!” my Mommy says. “Now you be extra-good, Buttercup, while Mommy steps out of the room again. I’ll be back shortly, and just remember, my hairbrush is always just a few steps away.”

My eyes slowly open again as I watch my Mommy leave the room.

The exam room door is closed behind her. Dr. Owens and Erin start quietly talking and preparing their tools.

The important details of everything I just overheard suddenly start to hit me. My eyes widen.

I realize I’ve been left alone here with Dr. Owens and Erin.

I still have no idea what procedure I’m about to be in for, but I know I don’t have a choice in the matter.

And while I’m helplessly laying beneath them in the dental chair, I can feel my cold, soggy diaper only leaking worse and worse under my butt, a fact that neither one of them seems to have yet noticed.

I look down at my padded mittens, and suddenly, I secretly wish I could suck my thumb again.

* * *

“Is she squirmy?” Dr. Owens asks Erin as he pulls up a chair next to me, talking to her like I’m not even there.

“Well, you might say that. She certainly managed to do a lot of very specific squirming earlier, that’s for sure,” Erin smirks.

I blush hot red, realizing she’s talking about how she caught me masturbating in my wet diaper earlier.

“Is the squirming going to be a problem for us?” Dr. Owens asks her.

“You know, I doubt it,” Erin replies. “Her Mommy set her pretty straight afterward with a long and hard visit from her hairbrush on the little lady’s hindquarters. So I have to believe she’s learned her lesson, at least for today.”

“Alright, well, I don’t know. I don’t usually trust patients who aren’t even trustworthy enough to make it to the potty yet, to keep themselves still during the whole procedure. Maybe just get the full-body safety restraints and keep them nearby, anyway, just in case,” Dr. Owens says.

I feel ever-more paralyzed as I lay beneath them, forced to listen to them casually discussing me like a baby, treating me as if I was incapable of even understanding their words, let alone weighing in with my own opinions on them.

My mounting embarrassment and frustration makes me desperately want to speak up. To defend myself. Or at least ask them to explain what they’re talking about, because it all sounds very alarming.

But I don’t speak up. I can’t. Not now. Because while they talk over me, I’m still laying in a soggy diaper in a puddle of my own cold pee.

The utter humiliation of the infantile sensation robs me of any possible adult-like confidence.

Further, I’m terrified of accidentally drawing their attention to it, causing them to discover the utterly embarrassing, babyish thing that I’ve done.

Part of me knows that my leaking diaper is actually all the more reason I should pipe up immediately. I need to tell them about my leaky diaper, ASAP, before they get started, so my Mommy can change me.

But I’m paralyzed with indecision. Because I also can’t bear to see the look on their faces when they discover just how utterly babyish and pathetic I really am, peeing in my diaper to the point of leaking.

I wonder if I can just continue ignoring it. Maybe they’ll continue to not notice it. And eventually I’ll even get used to how cold and wet and awful it feels to be sitting in.

In my quiet worrying about what to do, part of me realizes that the major reason why I’m suddenly so much more shy than I was before, is because I’m now in front of a totally new person, Dr. Owens, who is not only a man, but he’s totally no-nonsense, and super hot.

After a moment, Dr. Owens happens to step away toward his workbench. I seize the moment to at least try to get Erin’s attention.

“Ummm… Miss Erin?” I squeak, hoping I might be able to whisper to her about my need for a diaper change in at least semi-privacy.

Erin turns around and kneels down toward me, listening.

“I… uh… uh… umm…. ” I nervously stammer.

Suddenly, Erin smiles. Before I get a chance to continue…

“Aww, I know what you need. There you go!” Erin says, suddenly putting Mr. Hippo, the stuffy, under my arm again.

I blush bright red, and watch in quiet defeat, as Erin returns to continue her conversation with Dr. Owens.

I’m mortified. My pathetic attempt at displaying even a modicum of adult-behavior was just stifled in the most humiliating, babyish way possible.

And yet, despite its utter babyishness, I still can’t help but squeeze Mr. Hippo as tight as possible. In the moment, he’s a comfort I just can’t refuse.

“Alright, we really need to get started,” Dr. Owens says to Erin. “She already put us way behind schedule with everything she put you through just while you were trying to give her her cleaning.”

I blush, reminded and ashamed of all my infantile behavior so far today.

“Why don’t you get her started with the cheek retractor,” Dr. Owens adds.

Erin comes over to me with a small tray of tools. She sits down, scoots closer, and then suddenly…

“Uh-oh! We’ve got an oopsies,” Erin blurts, recoiling.

“Huh?” Dr. Owens asks.

“A leak,” Erin says.

“What?” Dr. Owens says.

“A leaky diaper,” Erin spells out. “Her diaper is leaking in her seat, big time. She’s practically laying in a puddle of her peepee right now.”

Dr. Owens turns around, glances at me, then lets out a loud groan. “Oh, christ,” he mutters.

My face is suddenly burning brighter red than I thought possible. I’m filled with unbearable regret, humiliation and shame that I didn’t even manage to tell them about my diaper situation myself.

No… I was apparently too much of a baby to do even that. I had to be ‘discovered’ as wet. Just like a toddler.

Dr. Owens lets out a long sigh and walks over to me. I cover my burning red face with Mr. Hippo, too painfully humiliated to possibly look him in the eyes.

“I knew we shouldn’t have let her Mom walk away without changing her diaper, first,” he says.

“I can go get her Mom,” Erin offers.

“No, we don’t have time,” Dr. Owens stops her. “Like I said, we’re already running way behind. If her Mom comes back in here, we’re going to have to put everything down and wait while she takes care of changing her. Not to mention, it’ll interrupt the consultation she’s doing with them up front right now, setting them back as well. We just need to get started now on the procedure as planned.”

“You want us to get started on the procedure? So, what, are you suggesting that we leave her in her puddle of filth for the next two hours while we work on her mouth?” Erin asks.

“No, no, of course not, that would be ridiculous. Especially knowing what a faucet she is. By time we were done, there’d be a golden waterfall from her chair to a little golden ocean in the middle of our office,” he says, making them both laugh.

“But no, what I’m saying, is that instead of getting her Mom, I want you to just change her diaper yourself, right now, while I get started on her mouth,” Dr. Owens explains. “Her diaper bag is still sitting in the corner over there.”

“Oh! Right, of course, no problem,” Erin smiles. “Let’s just get this taken care of. I know her Mom won’t mind.”

* * *

I slowly lower Mr. Hippo down from my face, the full gravity of their conversation slowly sinking in. I watch Erin grab my diaper bag in the corner and start looking through it.

“No… no… ” I suddenly quietly whimper.

But if Erin or Dr. Owens hear me, they show no sign of it. Dr. Owen continues prepping dental equipment on a tray next to my head, and Erin starts eagerly laying out supplies like baby wipes, powder, and a fresh disposable.

“No… no!” I whimper a little louder this time. “No, I don’t want a diaper change!”

Erin hears me this time. She suddenly looks up at me, then gives me an overly-kind smile. “Aww, sweetie, you have to get your diapee changed. You’re leaking right now. Don’t worry, I know diapee changes can be scary, but you’re going to feel so much better when you’re finally all cozy, safe, warm and dry again in a fresh diaper!”

“No!” I plead again. “No, no, no! I don’t want diapee change!”

For some reason, my ability to express myself well at all has disappeared. Instead, I’m too exhausted and overwhelmed and my emotions are boiling over. The result is that my words feel painfully limited and difficult to manage. I can’t figure out how to say what I want in the way that I know I need to. I’m suddenly helplessly whining… like a baby.

“No, no, no!” I thoughtlessly shout really loud. “No diapee change! I said no diapee change!”

Erin pauses with the fresh diaper in her hand and looks down at me. Her expression is one of pity, disappointment, and mild frustration.

I recognize it as the look you give a toddler that is throwing a tantrum about getting their diaper changed. It’s the look you give as a Mommy because you know that it’s not comfortable or healthy for a baby to stay sitting in a dirty diaper. Yet they’re too baby-brained to process something even so immediate, simple, obvious and necessary.

But I start tearing up and getting more frustrated. What I’m trying to say, and what she doesn’t understand, is that I don’t want her to change my diaper. I only want my Mommy changing me!

After all, I was mortified earlier when my diaper was changed just in the same room as Erin, this attractive woman. The idea of suddenly being directly changed by her, in full view of yet another highly attractive stranger, this masculine, hot, dentist, was appalling to me. Especially because I knew I’d made such a humiliating, dripping, soggy peepee mess everywhere that would need to be cleaned up as well!

“No, no, NO!” I suddenly scream at the top of my lungs. “No diaper change! I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy, right now!”

“Come on, Buttercup, it’s just me. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m just changing your diaper,” Erin says, approaching and reaching for the soggy diaper on my waist.

I recoil and violently kick her away. Erin jumps backward in shock.

“No diaper change! I want my Mommy! Get my Mommy!” I scream and wail at the top of my lungs, tears pouring down my cheeks as I writhe and flail on the dentist chair.

Erin stares back at me with the diaper in her hand, her face pure shock and disappointment.

“Welp, that didn’t take long at all, did it?” I hear Dr. Owens say from over my shoulder. “Not even a single minute into the procedure and she’s already having a meltdown. Oh well, I guess that’s why they make the juvenile safety restraints in the first place.”

Suddenly, Dr. Owens grabs ahold of one of my flying wrists. Before I even know what’s happening, there’s a padded cuff being wrapped around it. Then he yanks it tight, securing it to the dental chair next to my waist.

I’m so shocked and confused, I don’t have any chance to react before he’s already grabbed my other wrist and done the same thing, strapping it down tight on the other side of me.

“What are you… hey, stop! Stop it!” I helplessly shout. But it’s futile.

“I’ve got her legs,” Erin says. Similar to my wrists, my feet are both suddenly secured down at the end of the table.

I helplessly thrash against my sudden bonds. Then I look up and see Dr. Owens placing a super-thick, heavy, canvass belt over my torso.

He pulls it tight, and suddenly I can’t even lift my waist up from the chair.

“Stop it! Stop! Please!” I suddenly wail in frantic sobs. I yank and tug and flail and writhe and squirm with every ounce of my strength, but it’s useless. I’m utterly strapped down and immobilized.

I stare down in horror at the so-called full-body safety restraints. They are decorated with bright, colorful patterns, as if trying to be ‘fun for kids’, while they comprehensively bind them to the dentist chair.

Suddenly, I feel the dental chair reclining even further, laying me even more flat, and making me feel even more helpless.

“Let me go! Let me up!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy, right now! I WANT MY MO—“

I’m cut off by something being shoved into my mouth. I’m suddenly gagged.

It feels like a cool piece of plastic shoved around the front of my mouth, shoving my lips and cheeks apart, opening my mouth up wide, and making it impossible for me to form words.

“Aaaaaaghghghghghg!” I incoherently babble with my mouth forced open.

Suddenly, another piece of dental equipment is shoved into the back of my mouth. It tastes like rubber and plastic, and placed between my teeth.

My yells are now almost totally muffled. I try to scream again, only for a collection of saliva to force me to swallow again, instead.

I’m now utterly gagged, splayed out, and strapped down at every limb. My mouth is spread wide open while I’m forced to look upward. I recoil as the dental light above my face suddenly flicks on, blinding me, as well.

“Phew,” I hear Dr. Owens say. “It’s amazing what a good cheek retractor and bite blocker can do. Not just for looking into mouths, but keeping noise from leaving them, as well.”

“You’re not kidding, that’s a life-saver. Not to mention the juvenile harness restraints. Thank god you thought to have it close. Otherwise, we might still be fighting with her,” Erin says.

“And her leaking diaper would have made even more of a mess,” Dr. Owens laughs. “That tantrum she threw just turned that peepee puddle under her butt into a little golden rain shower across our floor.”

Erin sighs and laughs. “Well, I’m just glad the chairs and floor in the juvenile room are waterproof, for that reason. Anyway, let’s get started.”

I squint upward to see Dr. Owens staring down at me, strange dental instruments in his hand. On the other side, I see Erin unfolding a clean diaper.

“Ready to finally get your yucky soggy diapee changed, Buttercup?” Erin asks.

“And ready to get your yucky, crooked, babyish teeth fixed?” Dr. Owen asks.

They both burst into maniacal laughter as they slowly descend toward me with their instruments of my humiliation.

I writhe, squeal, and squeeze my eyes shut in terror.

I realize that my nightmare getting diapered at the dentist… has still only just begun.

END OF PART IV