Diapered at the Dentist: Part 1

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.

I shuffle into the brightly lit dentist waiting room behind my Mommy. I’m shy, still getting used to leaving the house in my diapered condition, and I’ve never been to this dentist office before.

I’m a permanent little one now. My Mommy made that clear to me, ever since I started having more and more potty accidents.

My Mommy took me to a special doctor who said that I need to wear diapers all the time from now on, since apparently I have a condition called ‘involuntary physiological regression’, which means that my Mommy needs to basically treat me like a toddler again, despite the fact that I’m an adult.

I don’t want to be treated like a baby again, but I don’t get much choice in the matter. And well… it was hard to argue I didn’t need diapers. It seems like I rely on them more and more every day, even though I’m so embarrassed by them.

The ‘little’ outfit my Mommy dressed me in today is a pair of extra-babyish looking shortalls, with a bright pink shirt that says Mommy’s Baby Girl. Beneath my shortalls, I’m wearing an extra thick and puffy disposable diaper.

I go sit down in the corner of the waiting room as my Mommy talks to the receptionist. As I sit down in the hard plastic chair, I feel my diaper squish and I blush. I realize my diaper is already a little wet. But at least it’s not that bad, I tell myself. I pride myself on still being able to mostly potty like a big girl… usually… even if I also end up wetting my diaper throughout the day, too.

I hear Mommy and the receptionist laugh and look in my direction. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I think I hear them say the word diaper? I can’t be sure. I start blushing again, but tell myself I’m just being paranoid. I’m horribly embarrassed that I have to wear diapers all the time, now. I’m terrified that my Mommy would tell them about my diapees.

After a few more minutes, a female dental hygienist comes to the door and calls my name.

I look up and realize the hygienist is very pretty, and not that much older than me. I suddenly feel even more nervous. I’m really not used to going out as a little.

My Mommy helps me stand up and takes my hand. I realize she’s walking with me to the dental exam room.

The pretty dental hygienist looks down at me holding my Mommy’s hand and giggles, making me blush. I’m embarrassed that my Mommy is coming with me to the exam room, but I’m also secretly glad. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m feeling pretty scared of being at the dentist’s office, and having my Mommy there makes me feel a little better.

I realize the dentist office feels extra big and scary now, now that I’m so little. But I try to ignore that thought. I try to tell myself that’s stupid, I’m not actually a little girl, like my Mommy says I am. I’m still a big kid, I tell myself.

Yet as we walk down the hall, I can’t ignore the damp padding of my diaper crinkling between my thighs, which of course tells a different story…

Did my diaper just get a little warmer and wetter? Oh no, I hate that I can’t even tell anymore…

The dental hygienist leads us past two big, scary dental exam rooms, and I squeeze my Mommy’s hand a little tighter. But then, she leads us into a third room at the end of the hall, and to my surprise, it’s the toddler’s dental exam room!

The wallpaper is bright and colorful with cartoons. The dental chair has a nursery themed print over the top. The TV in the corner is playing Dora the Explorer. There’s even a toy chest with baby toys and stuffies in the corner!

The pretty dental hygienist bends down to face me. “Hi dear, my name’s Erin. What’s your name?”

I blush, and for some reason, can’t answer. I think it’s because she’s so pretty, and mature, and I feel so embarrassed to be seen being dressed and treated like a baby in front of her.

Without thinking, I’m suddenly hiding behind my Mommy while both women giggle.

“Aww, don’t worry, my little girl here is just a little shy,” my Mommy smiles, patting me on the head. “You can call her Buttercup. That’s what I call her at home. Maybe that’ll make her more comfortable.”

“No problem,” the dental hygienist, Erin, smiles. “Alright, Buttercup, can you be an extra brave little girl and come take a seat up here for me?” She asks, patting the exam table.

I’m mortified. Buttercup. My Mommy knows that nickname makes me extra-blushy. I hate how much they’re treating me like a baby already… and even more so how much I’m acting like one.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to be scared, little one. I promise, I’ll be extra nice,” Erin continues to beckon. “And if you’re extra-good, I’ll even give you a special treat when we’re done, just for good little girls!”

I can’t take it anymore. Finally, I blurt, “I’m not a little girl! I’m a big girl!”

Erin smiles, and without missing a beat, replies, “Of course, dear, you’re right. You’re a big, brave girl. And your Mommy and I are so proud of you for being so brave here at the dentist,” she says with an ultra-sweet smile, somehow making me feel even smaller.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. I need to stop acting like such a baby if I don’t want them to treat me like one! I scold myself.

I slowly approach the examination table. But just as I’m about to hop up…

“Oh, actually, hold on one second,” my Mommy says. “Turn around, Buttercup. Let’s check that diaper before you sit down.”

My eyes practically bulge out of my head. I notice Erin’s eyes widen, too, confirming my worst fears. She’s shocked that I still have to wear diapers at my age!

I start burning red hot with embarrassment. This intimidating, attractive hygienist may have thought I was a dumb little girl, but she didn’t need to know that I’m apparently not even potty-trained yet!

“Moooom, I’m fine!” I moan, blushing even redder.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, I asked you to turn around,” my Mommy scolds me, turning me around to face her. “Sorry, I just want to make sure we don’t have any leaks while she’s in your chair,” my Mommy says to Erin.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” the hygienist giggles, still clearly processing the fact that I’m even more pathetic and babyish than she realized.

To my horror, my Mommy doesn’t just reach her hand through my pants leg to give my diaper a quick feel to check it. Instead, she unbuckles the straps of my shortalls… and drops my shortalls all the way to the floor!

I’m frozen in abject humiliation as I’m suddenly forced to stand before this attractive woman, my thick, infantile, puffy, disposable diaper on full display! My Mommy then begins forcefully squeezing, lifting, and patting the crotch of my damp diaper.

Squish. Squish. Squish.

“Oh boy, you’re soggier than I expected, Buttercup!” my Mommy announces. “I forgot how much you go peepee when you’re nervous.”

I look down in humiliation to see my diaper stained bright yellow. The truth was, I was wetter than I realized, too. I didn’t even remember peeing that much at all. I realize I must have guzzled down more juice boxes than I thought on the drive over, probably because I was so nervous.

“We need to get you changed before you sit down for your cleaning,” my Mommy says, then turns to Erin. “Do you mind waiting a minute while I change her diaper?”

“Oh, not at all, please do. No one wants any soggy bum-bums leaking during their teeth cleaning,” Erin giggles.

“Do you by chance have a handicapped bathroom with a changing table?” my Mommy asks.

“Oh, you know what? You can just change her right here on the exam chair,” Erin replies, suddenly grabbing a changing mat from the closet and laying it on the chair. She then lowers the dental chair and lays the back down, turning it into a flat table.

“Oh, that’s perfect, thank you so much!” my Mommy says.

“It’s no problem. We get little ones needing their diapees changed right before a cleaning more than you would think,” Erin says.

“That must be because the dentist is so scawy-wawy. Little ones can’t help but make a tinkle, right Buttercup?” my Mommy teases as both women laugh.

I’m frozen, utterly mortified, as my Mommy nonchalantly lifts me up onto this makeshift ‘changing table’. I wince as my diaper makes another loud squish from my bottom landing on my stinky, soggy diaper.

I can’t believe my Mommy is about to change my diaper right here. Right in the middle of the exam room.

As my Mommy grabs my diaper bag, I pray they’re going to at least close the door to the room.

They don’t.

Then I pray that at least Erin is going to leave the room.

She doesn’t.

Instead, I’m helplessly laid back for a diaper change, as my gorgeous, soon-to-be dental hygienist just leans against the wall and watches with a gleeful smile on her face.

“Let me know if you need any help or supplies! Like I said, I’ve definitely helped change a few diapers here in the juvenile dental room before,” Erin says.

“Oh, you’re an angel, but I’ve got it,” my Mommy replies. “This will be over in a jiffy. Buttercup is pretty good about getting her diaper changed by now. Especially when she’s just wet. Besides, I’m sure you’ve never helped change diapers on a little one this big before!”

“That’s true! That is definitely one of the biggest, wettest disposable diapers I’ve ever seen,” Erin replies.

They both burst into laughter as I squeeze my eyes shut, mortified beyond words. As my Mommy reaches down to un-tape my soggy diaper, I can barely believe this is happening.

Of course, my Mommy has changed my diaper countless times by now. Even though I still use the potty as much as I can, my embarrassing incontinence and dependence on diapers has only gotten steadily worse over the weeks and months, ever since my Mommy explained to me that she would need to be treating me like a little from now on.

But when my Mommy changed me, it was almost always at home. Or if really necessary, in the privacy of a family restroom.

But now, I’m getting my diaper changed against my will in an utterly humiliating, public fashion. Not only is this attractive, woman, Erin, watching me, I can hear the hallway right outside bustling with other patients and staff passing by.

I cover my face with my hands, wishing I could just disappear, as my Mommy proceeds to change my diaper, just like I was a little baby.

First, she lifts my legs up high, then grabs and squeezes the crotch of my soggy diaper. “Oh my, you are a soggy, soggy girl,” she teases, making me squirm from the squishy padding being pressed against my princess parts.

She un-tapes both sides, then pulls the diaper forward. I shiver as I feel the mushy, peepee-soaked padding being pulled forward and down over my pussy and butt cheeks, followed by the breeze of my wet groin being exposed to the cool air.

I can’t help but peak through my fingers at Erin, the dental hygienist, to see if she’s still watching. And to my horror… she is! Staring right at my naked crotch with the same warm smile on her face. As if charmed and fascinated by my utterly infantile, diaper-wetting state, given my age.

I cover my eyes again, trying to relax as I feel my Mommy start vigorously wiping my thighs, waist and butt cheeks down with cool baby wipes. She then lifts one of my legs back even further and scrubs my butthole, even pushing her finger slightly inside of me.

“Hmmm… you’ve got a little bit of a dirty bum, bum, hon,” my Mommy remarks under her breath, scrubbing me even more in my sensitive hole. “Let’s try to remember to get to the potty when you have to do poopies, okay?”

I give a slight, horrified nod, too mortified to do anything else. I’m desperate to just get this ordeal over with.

With my waist, groin, and bottom finally scrubbed clean, I hear the distinctive crinkle of my Mommy unfolding a fresh, clean diaper from my diaper bag. She pushes it under my butt and proceeds to douse me in baby powder, rubbing it into every nook and cranny.

I always hate the baby powder, knowing its distinctive, infantile scent will alert everyone in a 12 foot radius of my babyish condition for the rest of the day. And I can’t help but resent how much my Mommy seems to be dumping on me right now, knowing the whole dentist’s office is now going to be alerted by the scent to the fact that a baby just had their diaper changed.

But I know better than to bother fussing about anything like that now.

My Mommy dusts her hands off, and she’s just about to pull my diaper up, when she pauses. “Hmmmmm,” I hear her thinking out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Erin asks her.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should put a booster pad into her new diaper. Sometimes the extra bulk makes her more fussy, but she’s been such a little super-soaker this afternoon, I think it might be better safe than sorry,” my Mommy explains.

“Mommy, nooo!” I suddenly pipe up. “I don’t need it!”

I really did hate when my Mommy put a booster pad in my diapee. I already hated how my diapees made me waddle like a baby, and constantly crinkled and pressed against my groin with its crinkly, bulky padding.

A booster pad always made all those things worse, especially because the way the booster pad fit right in the center of my diapee, it ended up pressing right up against and tightly hugging my princess parts with its thick, crinkly padding. The boosters always felt like a non-stop, extra reminder of my utterly babyish state, constantly squeezed up tight against my most vulnerable area.

“Please, Mommy, no booster. I promise I won’t go peepee in my diapee anymore today, I promise!” I plead.

“See? Fussy already,” My Mommy remarks to Erin.

“I promise I’ll be a big girl and won’t do anymore weewee in my diapees!” I plead again. “I’ll be a big girl and only go weewee on the potty! I can hold it like a big girl for my whole teeth cleaning, I promise! Please!”

My Mommy and Erin both burst into giggles. “My gosh, she is so adorable,” Erin gushes.

“I know. She likes to pretend like she doesn’t need her diapers sometimes, especially when she’s in front of new adults she wants to impress. Like her cool new dental hygienist,” my Mommy teases.

I blush bright red, knowing it’s 100% true.

“I’m flattered,” Erin giggles.

“Alright, Buttercup, I know you want to impress your pretty new friend, but we both know Mommy knows best. And the more I think about it, the more I better make sure you’re extra-padded with a booster,” my Mommy explains.

I helplessly watch as my Mommy unfolds a booster pad from the diaper bag and tapes it tightly into my diaper, completely ignoring my wishes.

“Because if you’re this fussy now, you’re gonna be ten times as fussy if your diaper starts leaking while Erin’s trying to clean your teeth. And she doesn’t need that kind of stress,” my Mommy adds, causing them both to break out into more giggles at my expense.

I feel a rising sense of humiliation and helplessness. I can’t believe they’re just ignoring me, talking over me, treating me like what I want doesn’t matter at all.

“No! I don’t want a booster pad!” I shout, my emotions finally bubbling over.

“Shhhhh… almost done, honey,” my Mommy says, shushing me as she pulls the now extra-thick fresh diaper up between my legs.

“You’re not listening! I said no!” I shout, trying to wriggle away.

“Shhhh…. almost finished,” my Mommy says, pinning me down and fastening the tapes of my new diaper anyway, taping them down extra tight around my waist.

“Stop it! Stop it! I’m not… you’re treating me like… you can’t… It’s not…”

Gasping for words, I shove my Mommy away in a rage, just as she finishes taping my new diaper up extra, extra tight. I reach down and feel the extra-constricting, extra-bulky, humiliating padding I’m now trapped in. I gasp in horror as the specially added soaker pad presses up tight against my groin, just as I knew it would. The seemingly massive, thick, crinkly diaper makes me want to scream a thousand screams of unspeakable frustration, humiliation, and embarrassment.

I take a huge breath, and finally, I erupt at the top of my lungs…

“I’m… NOT… A… BABY!!!!!!” I scream.

Then I burst into hysterical tears.

“I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby!” I scream again and again, pounding my fists into the dentist-chair-turned-changing table.

“It’s okay, baby, diaper change is all done,” my Mommy says, choosing to ignore my temper tantrum and holding me down like an out of control toddler while she pulls my shortalls back up over my diaper against my will.

I scream and cry even louder. I’m just so upset about the thick, bulky diaper. About being embarrassed in front of Erin. About how much I peed my diaper before without realizing it. About being changed without privacy. About being ignored, and humiliated, and giggled at… and treated like I was just some stupid baby.

In the corner of my eye, I see other staff and curious onlookers in the hallway peering into the exam room at my screaming and crying breakdown, which only makes me feel even more humiliated and out of control.

And worst of all, in the back of my mind, I know my tantrum is only making me look exactly like the baby they think I am, which only makes me feel ten times as upset, and helpless, and out of control.

I wail louder and louder, screaming again and again at the top of my lungs, sobbing like I’ve never sobbed before, until finally, suddenly—

I feel something soft and fuzzy in my arms.

I look down. It’s an adorable, stuffed hippopotamus.

I look up to see Erin placing the stuffed hippo in my arms, a warm smile on her face. “It’s okay, Buttercup, Mr. Hippopotamus wants to give you a hug, and let you know everything’s going to be okay.”

My sobs suddenly pause. I stare down at the stuffed hippo, then squeeze him tighter than I’ve ever squeezed anything before, suddenly squeezing all my anger and sadness and worries into his cute little cozy stuffed body. And he accepts it all with fuzzy, warm, love.

Erin rubs my back and soothes me. “Everything’s okay, Buttercup. Everything’s okay.”

And I don’t know why I suddenly start to feel so much better... but I do.

Maybe it’s just because Mr. Hippopotamus is so cute and soft and snuggly. Maybe it’s just because I had done enough screaming to make my point by then. Or maybe… it just made me feel special for Erin to try to make me feel better by giving me a stuffy.

I take deep breaths, finally calming down. My sobbing cries turn to sniffles. I slowly catch my breath.

I suddenly feel very tired. I lay back down on the dentist chair and curl into a ball.

I close my eyes, and can just barely hear some of what my Mommy and Erin are saying to each other nearby.

“I’m so sorry about this, she hasn’t thrown a tantrum about a diaper change in… gosh, I don’t know how long. I think she’s just so nervous about being at the dentist,” my Mommy says.

“Oh, it’s fine, we planned with a bit of extra time for her appointment, anyway, knowing she’s a special-needs patient,” Erin replies.

“Oh, and brilliant thinking with that stuffy you put in her arms. You really saved the day,” my Mommy says.

“Of course! That’s what they’re there for. Anyway, let’s just give her a few minutes to rest her eyes…”

I’m suddenly too sleepy to pay anymore attention. Without thinking, I slip my thumb in my mouth, squeeze my stuffy tight, and rock back and forth on my newly thickly padded bum-bum.

And even though I’m still upset in a lot of ways about what just happened, I also feel forced to admit… it did feel nice to be in a nice, dry diaper, instead of my soggy one from before.

And just as I start to fade off to a little nap, the tiniest part of me remembers…

I was there to see the dentist. And they hadn’t even looked in my mouth yet!

I realized, my time getting diapered at the dentist... with all the humiliation, embarrassment, and regression that entailed… was still only just getting started.

END OF PART I.