Chapter 10: Medical Confirmation
The sterile hum of the doctor’s office fluorescents felt louder than any noise in Patricia’s meticulously quiet house. “The atrophy is quite pronounced, and the cage is no longer mechanically necessary,” the doctor said, her tone as clinical as the stainless-steel tray beside her. Patricia, watching Kyle’s resigned expression from her chair, felt a surge of vindication so sweet it tightened her chest. “So, the diapers and the… other program?” she asked, smoothing her skirt. The doctor gave a curt, professional nod. “Absolutely—consistency is key for behavioral reinforcement.”
“Absolutely—consistency is key for behavioral reinforcement,” the doctor concluded, making a note in Kyle’s file. “Now, let’s discuss Andrea.” Patricia shifted forward, her voice light but deliberate. “Doctor, I’ve noticed Andrea has been using her diaper, too.” The doctor’s eyebrows raised slightly as she turned her analytical gaze toward Andrea, who stared intently at a faded poster about hand hygiene. “Involuntary regression is a common psychosomatic response to high-stress environments,” the doctor stated, rising from her stool, “but we should rule out any physical cause.” She instructed Andrea to lie back on the exam table before donning fresh gloves. With clinical efficiency, she helped Andrea out of her clothes, folding them neatly on the counter beside the stirrups. The chilled air of the room raised goosebumps on Andrea’s skin as the doctor prepared a probe, its protective cover crinkling.
The chilled metal of the probe pushed inward with a soft, decisive click. While the screen beside them displayed its readout, the doctor’s other gloved hand performed a brisk, internal check, her fingers absently tracing the exam. Her thumb brushed, just once and likely by accident, against Andrea’s clit.
A full-body shudder ripped through Andrea, a bolt of pure, unwanted sensation in the sterile room. The doctor’s eyes flicked to Andrea, and for a fraction of a second her professional mask slipped into a knowing, almost smug grin. She withdrew the probe, disposed of it without ceremony, and turned to Patricia. “Keep a detailed log of her accidents,” she said flatly, peeling off her gloves.