Drool - Part 3

💊 Part 1 💊 Part 2 💊

"Oh no, Jess! It looks like our newest patient had a visit from the Potty Monster."

Your brain feels like it's melting. You're desperate to tic, but every muscle in your body is too sluggish and heavy to do more than slosh around in the sinking pool that has become your mattress. The enormous pacifier strapped in your mouth bubbles and squeaks as your lolling tongue pushes creamy drool through the pink shield. But that familiar wetness has been joined by a new one: a puddle of bitter-smelling urine that has periodically expanded and reheated over the last hour, your lower body paralyzed by Nurse Molly's muscle relaxers.

"Mmmmnnnnnnnnggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh," you moan into the thick shaft of the pacifier, dripping pathetically onto the tight cloth bib. The weight of your accumulating drool has now pasted the bib to your chest, and you can feel your saliva seeping through the thin pink paper of your hospital gown.

"You never mentioned any bladder troubles on your application, honey. It's okay, but it's a very important detail for the doctor to know about before your treatment can start!"

Your face gets so hot you can practically feel it crackle. You DON'T have bladder troubles! Nurse Molly obviously gave you too many muscle relaxers! You want to stammer out in protest, but with the leather strap securing the pacifier to your lips, you're completely unable to contradict your nurse's assumptions.

"Jess, I'm going to go fetch some protection. Can you do what you can with the waterworks?"

You become aware of a new presence as Nurse Molly leaves the room: a young woman in a white uniform with shoulder-length hair dyed in an eye-popping pink. You're humiliated to be seen by a stranger while you're writhing stupidly in a lake of your own pee and drool, nursing a fat pacifier and barely able to lift your worthless, mittened hands. You turn your head away as she approaches.

"Hmph. Just what we needed...another bedwetter," she says, her voice oozing with a mix of amusement and genuine frustration. "I'm Nurse Jessica; I'm usually on the night shift. I looked at your file. You're a twitchy one, aren't you? You've got a lot of work ahead of you, especially if we have to start dealing with soaked mattresses."

Nurse Jessica reaches behind your head to untie your cloth bib and peels the saturated square of fabric off of your chest. She tosses it to the floor with a wet plop before folding down the pink-and-white fiberglass guardrails of your bed. You desperately want to explain that you're not actually a bedwetter...but as the pink-haired nurse rolls you onto your side and begins laying down piles of dry towels, all you can do is suckle, sniffle, and moan.

Still unable to move under your own power, you try to focus on the television that has been playing non-stop since you were brought to the room. The bunny cartoon has been replaced with a show where some lady in a princess costume is interacting with puppets. The dialogue and plot are deliriously simple, but it's still preferable to acknowledging Nurse Jessica as she tears off your damp paper hospital gown and begins scrubbing your naked bottom. Once again, lacking any outlet for your instinct to tic, you try to concentrate your nervous energy on the rubbery bulb of the pacifier in your mouth.

"How's our super soaker?"

You hear the familiar voice of Nurse Molly as she pulls back the privacy curtain of your room. At first, it looks like she's brought some extra towels for mopping up your accident, but then you realize...

"Thick, thirsty diapers for our shy little lamb! Don't worry, honey, it's not uncommon for people with motor control issues to have some bladder problems. You didn't have to be embarrassed!"

"Nnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhh!" You cry out in a panic as Nurse Molly unfurls the massive diaper, holding its hourglass shape aloft like a white flag of surrender for your dignity. The plastic backing crinkles and pops, and you begin to writhe in your bed as she approaches with the mass of soft, heavy padding.

"Nnngh! Nnngh! Nnnnnnnnnngh!" Gurgling uselessly into the rubbery nipple that fills your mouth, the lingering effects of the muscle relaxers join forces with the puffy, constraining mittens to leave you completely at the mercy of these two beautiful nurses. Unable to communicate, you stare up at Nurse Jessica with pleading, desperate eyes as Nurse Molly snaps on a fresh pair of latex gloves and squeezes a liberal amount of white cream into her palm.

"Oh...do you need to tic? Get the wiggles out?" Nurse Jessica sneers, ignoring your obvious panic at the prospect of being taped into the massive diaper. She retreats over to the white-and-pink dresser, which you're surprised to realize is stocked not with the clothes and personal items you brought to the clinic, but with a menagerie of animal plushies, toys, and strange-looking clothes.

"Here, cuddle with Honey Horn. That should calm you down." Nurse Jessica dangles a giant stuffed unicorn above you, nuzzling it against your naked chest in a bid for you to grasp on.

You gasp slurpily as you feel the cold cream in Nurse Molly's gloved hand against the sensitive skin of your bottom. Instinctively, you wrap your bare arms around Honey Horn and pull her against your shivering body, aching for warmth and stimulation. All you can do is suckle, wimper, and squeeze the plushie unicorn as Nurse Molly lifts your legs so they form a right angle with the ceiling.

Nurse Jessica holds your ankles, and you feel the cold, damp towels replaced by a velvety, dry cloud. You wiggle against the odd sensation of your cream-slathered skin on the cottony lining of the soft diaper. You've regained enough feeling in your legs to feel the tightness of the leg guards hugging your thighs as Nurse Molly folds the popping plastic up to your belly button. The ripping tapes are like thunder in your ears, and when the nurses' hands finally let go, the new bulk around your hips stays. You summon the strength to shift Honey Horn to the side, just so you can behold what you already know: you've been snugly and securely diapered.

"Now we need to change out this mattress, honey, so we'll need you to get out of bed. It looks like you still have jelly legs from your medicine, so it's probably safest if you hang out with Honey Horn on the floor."

The nurses work together to lift you up and slide a purple cotton t-shirt over your torso before tying a fresh cotton bib around your neck. By the time Nurse Molly helps you plop down onto the pink blanket that Nurse Jessica spread out on the linoleum, your bib is already catching droplets of warm drool that ooze through the shield of your ever-present pacifier. You have no choice but to cling to Honey Horn, unable to do anything else with your mittened hands as you try to summon feeling back into your legs with weak kicks of your pink jelly sandals. And as you lie on your back, squirming and moaning through helpless suckling, your ears ring with the crinkles and pops of your fluffy white diaper, bulging like a balloon, overwhelming your senses with its tightness, its bulk, and its crackling song...