Page 18 of Layla

“You’re going to do just fine, honey.”

Kirk’s words did little to sooth the very nervous Layla. How could they? Dr. McDonald was already in the room, prepping for the exam.

And Layla was sitting on the padded exam table, clad in nothing but pink, lacy panties. She had tried to cross her arms and cover her breasts, but Kirk had put a stop to that rather quickly.

“Your Daddy is right,” Dr. McDonald said. “No reason to worry, sweetie. You’re doing fine.” He stopped himself before saying anything else. “I’m sorry. I’m going on like she’s a Little. I’m so used to Mountainville. Most of my patients want lollipops and stickers after their visits.”

Layla thought back to the other night when she’d called Kirk that name.

Daddy.

Perhaps Dr. McDonald wasn’t far off the mark.

“I reckon the lines to get a tad blurred, doc,” Kirk said. Sitting in one of the waiting chairs across from the exam table, he stretched his long legs out and leaned back, the muscles beneath his black tee rippling with each movement. Even under the circumstances, Layla couldn’t help but lick her lips in desire.

“Yes. Littles are submissives. Of course, not all submissives are Littles,” Dr. McDonald continued. “But in this case it might be hard to tell the difference with the diaper training. Will you start today?”

“Yep,” Kirk confirmed.

“Then let’s see if this cutie is healthy and passes the exam so you can get to it,” the doctor stated.

Layla froze in horror. She wasn’t surprised as she’d known all about the diaper training. It had been on her mind off and on for a while. But the realization that it was now upon her caused her body to lock up. Well, she thought, you’re sure getting your chance to submit. It’s what you wanted, remember?

Her spine stiffened as the doctor snapped a blue latex glove on his right hand. He did the same for the left.

Yikes, she thought. What am I more nervous about—the diapers or this exam?

“Are you doing a full diaper training regimen?” Dr. McDonald asked. “Wet and messy diapers?”

“You bet,” Kirk said.

“Good. I recommend it, especially when trying to build that trust and encourage complete submission,” the physician continued. He turned his attention to the patient and said, “I’m just going to listen to your heart rate, honey. Nothing scary. Might be a bit cold, though.” He smiled as he removed the stethoscope from around his neck, put it on, then brought the end to her chest.

She lurched as the instrument’s cold steel brushed her.

“You’re doing great,” the doc said. He moved it around several times, listening with approving nods.

He then switched to her back and had her take a series of deep breaths, holding them a while before exhaling.

“Good,” he said. “That’s perfect.”

He took the stethoscope off and looked to Kirk. “You know, often, when first put in diapers, they have no trouble with the wet ones. It’s the other that really gets them. If she struggles, we have specific formulas, or we could use enemas.”

Layla bit her bottom lip. Her right leg involuntary twitched. She couldn’t believe this was truly happening. Why wasn’t she saying, “No”? Why wasn’t she putting a stop to such talk.

Because it was exactly what she wanted. That’s why, she realized.

Not the procedures. But plunging into the ultimate depths of submission. Giving herself completely to her husband. Learning to look to him for everything. It was the stuff of her dreams.

That didn’t mean it would be exactly fun, though.

Far from it.

She left her thoughts and listened as the conversation continued.

“What do you recommend?” Kirk asked.

“Well, the formula works nine times out of ten, but the enemas are certainly more thorough. If she doesn’t load those Pampers for you on her own, I’d stick that hose right up her cute little bottom and clean it out. I’ll send a few kits home with you, just in case.”

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