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Drool - Part 1

"Can you open your mouth for me? Give me your best alligator smile!"

Your eyes fixate on the device in Nurse Molly's extending hand. It has a pink plastic guard with a long, rounded, silicone shaft. If it weren't so large, you'd almost think it was a...

Pacifier.

"Wh-wh-what is this for?" You ask nervously, failing to suppress your stammer. It's particularly difficult given how cold this examination room is. Air from a nearby vent runs up the open back of your pale pink hospital gown, and you're forced to clutch the thin paper against your bare hips to prevent your naked bottom from getting exposed. Without thinking, you begin to chew anxiously on your lower lip.

"It's for that," Nurse Molly replies, the prologue of a smile drafting itself across her pretty face. "You bit your lip again. That's what this program is all about! These nervous tics you told us about on your application: stuttering, lip biting, scratching, shaking, and all the others...they may be psychological, but your body and mind work as a team. This equipment will help prevent damage to your lips while laying the foundations for correcting the behavior."

You don't take your eyes off the silicone nipple. You fight your body's nervous impulse to start rubbing your arms, instead crinkling the paper of your pink hospital gown.

"B-b-but I thought I w-w-would be doing sp-speech therapy. How can I t-t-talk with that in my mouth?"

Nurse Molly places a hand on your wrist in an effort to comfort you. "All in good time. Right now, it's important that we work on strengthening your jaw muscles and put a stop to the biting. Pretty please, open your mouth for me?"

As much as you've started to question this inpatient treatment program, there's something in Nurse Molly's gentle voice and soft grip that calms you down. What are you so nervous about, anyway? The reason you're here is because every other program has been unable to help you. Maybe this one will finally work...

Slowly, you let your mouth fall open.

"A little wider, honey," Nurse Molly whispers, tightening her grip on your wrist almost imperceptibly. "It's going to feel like a lot to take in at first."

You can't help but nibble your lip -- just a little -- before gaping your mouth as widely as you can. Nurse Molly wastes no time before sliding the firm, pliable silicone nipple deep into your mouth. Your gag reflex is tickled, but you manage to stop yourself from sputtering by holding your tongue wide and flat against the shaft. Immediately, you feel saliva pooling in the few remaining recesses of your mouth, and the device emits a loud, slurping sound as you swallow awkwardly around it. Nevertheless, a small bubble of drool forms at the corner of your lips.

"Mmmmnmmhhhhhh," you moan, reaching up reflexively to take out the device with your free hand.

"Ah ah! No touching!" Nurse Molly scolds, grasping your other wrist and pulling your palms together in front of you. You shift your feet, desperate to spend the nervous energy which has started to build. The hem of your paper hospital gown flutters dangerously high from the blowing vent.

"The device is designed for long-term use, so I want you to get into the habit of keeping it in unless a doctor or nurse removes it. Try to form an 'O' with your lips and suckle naturally."

You grimace as you turn to look into the full-length mirror on the door of the examination room. There you are, shivering in your pale pink hospital gown, your eyes arched in a forced look of surprise, your cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's. The pink guard of the device bobs ridiculously and makes a suction-cup squelch as you swallow again. A line of thick drool escapes your mouth and begins draining from behind the plastic guard. You have no doubt now: this is effectively a giant pacifier.

"It looks like you're quite the little spit factory!" Nurse Molly teases, grabbing a paper towel and wiping around the shield of the pacifier as you blush hotly. "You'll get into the rhythm of sucking and swallowing soon enough, but it may be a good idea to start wearing a bib for a while. You certainly don't want to be walking around the clinic covered in drool stains!"

A bib?! You reach up again to remove the pacifier in protest. Nurse Molly is quicker, interrupting your impulse and pulling your hand away from your mouth.

"Don't fuss," she says. Her tone is not unkind, but it is forceful. "The doctor won't agree to start your speech therapy until you demonstrate you've been using the device as prescribed."

You stare at Nurse Molly in exasperation, shuddering as more drool forms around your mouth. Surely you can't be expected to suck on a giant squishy pacifier with no way to ask questions about your treatment! Desperate to tic, you begin scratching your forearm, which causes Nurse Molly's eyebrows to shoot up.

"I have an idea."

Nurse Molly reaches to pull out a large drawer under a nearby table. After a few moments of searching, she extracts what appear to be two cloth pads in the same pale pink color as your hospital gown.

"Make a fist for me, honey."

You hesitate, cottoning on to what Nurse Molly intends to do. If you weren't dressed in the embarrassing hospital gown, there's a chance you would spit out your pacifier, turn on your heel, and march out the door right now.

"Make a fist. You have to make a fist." Nurse Molly makes it clear this isn't a request.

You swear you begin salivating more as you slowly lift your shaking hand. Frothy drool spills out from behind your pacifier as you curl your fingers and thumb together. You realize through your heavy breathing that you're actually suckling rhythmically on the rubbery shaft, filling the air with a soft squish, squish, squish, squish, squish.

Once your hand forms the desired fist, Nurse Molly wastes no time in smothering it with one of the pink cloth pads. The inside of the cloth is soft and pillowy, but very constricting; you couldn't uncurl your fingers if you tried. A tied ribbon strap is tightened around your wrist, and you raise your hand to gawk at the ridiculous balled mitten that now encases it.

"This should put an end to that scratching, and help remind you to keep that oral device exactly where it needs to be!" Nurse Molly smiles triumphantly, raising the second cloth pad.

Something clicks in your brain as your other hand is quickly mittened and secured snugly in place: you're completely helpless now. Not only can you no longer scratch, but you won't be able to get your clothes back on or open a door without help. What happens if you need to use the toilet?

"Mmmmhhhmmmn?" You gesture frantically at your pacifier as thick gobs of drool begin to collapse like icicles on the front of your paper gown. You feel the need to communicate; to take back some control. You crane your neck forward to spit the silicone shaft out, but think better of it when you see Nurse Molly's severe look.

"Ohhh, I see, honey," Nurse Molly coos with concern as you continue to point stupidly at your suckling mouth with the fat, balled mitten. "But don't worry. It's just a little drool. Let's get a bib on you. Then, I'll walk you to the bedroom where you'll be staying with us these next few weeks. How exciting! Soon, you'll feel like a whole new person."

You moan and shake your head, suckling furiously as more nervous energy builds. You want to scratch, to bite your lip, to stutter, to do something that gives you a feeling of control.

But as Nurse Molly holds up a large cloth bib -- white with a pink trim -- you realize fully that you're not in control. You're pathetic, muted, and covered in drool. The only thing you can do is fill the air with slurping and sucking as Nurse Molly tightens the bib around your neck. Robbed of your ability to tic, you try to focus all your nervous energy on your mouth. You're already painting the white cloth of the bib with thick streams of spit as you concentrate hard on suckling.

Squish, squish, squish, squish, squish, squish, squish, squish, squish...

💊 Part 2 💊

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