Bicycle 

I like small or long chapters better than no chapter. Poor John feeling overwhelmed but he still get there.

THE PLOT THICKENS “Normally,” Becky explained as she entered the six digit code and waited for the door to open, “we share the access code to the Psych ward with law enforcement personnel as a professional courtesy. But I'm wondering, Officer Canon, whether we should make an exception in your case. Technically, Ian is one of our patients, and we have a strict policy in place to prevent any patient from obtaining the codes. So, if you don't want to keep secrets from him, I'd suggest that we keep you in the dark.” “Good idea,” Priscilla agreed. “Somebody can buzz us out when we're done here, but right now I need to change Secret Agent Man's diaper, and replenish our stock. We're just about down to using paper towels from the men's room.” “If there's one thing this ward has in abundance,” Reiko grinned, “it's diaper supplies. When you have some free time, ask Ian to describe his visit to the diaper changing room in the secure ward!” “Oh, yuck,” Ian shivered, remembering the stench. “That place needs to be fumigated … several times a day!” “In we go, Secret Agent Man.” Becky held the door open, waiting for the others to enter. “Do you really call him that?” “Yep.” Priscilla had a smug look on her face-- one of those smiles that communicated in unmistakable terms that she knew things the others didn't. “IAN!” Vickie had been sitting in her favorite chair, working up a report on the morning session with her current crop of alcoholics, when she had spotted him coming through the door. Jumping up, she rushed across the room to hug him close, love and fear for his well being animating her in equal measure. Ian hugged her tightly in return, while gently patting her bottom. It was clear that Vickie was once again well diapered. “Are you all right,” she asked as she stepped back to study him. "Another seizure ... ” “Priscilla was on top of it. Priscilla and Bernice Miller. Some of the girls helped too.” “Thank you.” Vickie hugged Priscilla in turn, her feelings heartfelt. It was a relief to know that Ian was in good hands when he was on campus. “No; thank you! Vickie, you figured that this might happen, and you took the time to teach me how to respond.” Priscilla reached into her pocket. “Now I carry smelling salts with me wherever I go-- a simple but effective first line of defense.” The two women hugged again, and this time Priscilla felt Vickie's diaper. “Practicing for tonight,” she asked with a grin. “Nope. 24/7 until I'm pregnant, and after the baby comes, postpartum incontinence is a real possibility because ...” Looking around, Vickie paused in mid-sentence. “Wha … what …? Oh, damn! Did I just let the cat out of the bag?” Priscilla had winced so hard that, for a second, Vickie wondered whether she had slapped her and not even known it. Becky's eyes had gone wide, and Reiko was looking down at the carpet, determined to avoid eye contact. Something was very, very wrong. “Ian, I ...” Vickie's voice faltered as she turned to face him. “I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. We haven't talked about this … I mean … I mean the three of us have talked about it, and it's a big part of what Rita wants to discuss with you this afternoon. Having children, I mean … Damn it, I'm making such a mess of this!” Vickie ran out of steam as she stood there, watching a wave of pain wash across Ian's features, tears welling up in his eyes. Something was very, very wrong indeed, and she didn't understand what or why. Gently, Ian reached out to pull Vickie into his arms. His kisses were just as gentle. “I love you, Victoria,” he finally managed to say. And, yes, I want to start a family … with you … with all four of you. But ...” “All four of us,” Vickie interrupted. And then she realized that Ian was staring over her shoulder-- staring at Priscilla. “Oh,” was all she could manage as the truth dawned. An involuntary spurt of hot piss began to warm her diaper, and she sensed that it was only a matter of time before she filled it with the mushy poop to which the bottles of breast milk now condemned her. “Does Sarah know?” It was a lame question, but Vickie was at a loss for words. Priscilla clasped her arm, and Vickie turned in her direction. “It wasn't planned; it just sort of snuck up on us.” Priscilla was patting her arm now. “And I want to have children, too … and for Secret Agent Man here to be the father.” She smiled at Ian, happier than she had ever been in her life, knowing now that he wanted more children. “But there's so much about me that you don't know,” Ian quietly continued, ignoring the interruptions. “So much that all of you need to know, and that I can finally share with you. So many sacrifices that you are going to have to make ...” “I don't understand.” Vickie was utterly lost. “Sacrifices?” “Loving Ian … having children ...” Priscilla did not want him to bear the burden of disclosing this truth alone. “There's a price to be paid, Vickie, and it's high. But I'm going to pay it ...” “So you know what this is all about?” Vickie looked at Reiko and Becky, and finally grasped that they must know at least a part of it as well. “I found out yesterday afternoon … sharing in a three way telephone conversation that was a tad unusual. And last night, Ian laid most of it out a second time, at the sorority house. That's why we're here, Vickie: there's a good chance that the story will get out, and if it does, it will spread like wildfire. Ian and I most definitely do not want you to hear about what really happened in Viet Nam at second hand. You and Sarah … Rita … the three of you … maybe others here … deserve to learn the truth from him, so we don't have the luxury of waiting until Saturday night. It has to be now; just let me change his diaper first.” “About Sarah ...” “No, Ian.” There was no give in Priscilla's tone. “She needs to be here. Marcia is right … you are punishing yourself to assuage your guilt, and I'm putting a stop to it. From now on, the four of us are in charge, and if you need a spanking or a time out, one of us will see to it. There will be no more self-flagellation-- not physical, not emotional.” “Marcia Mason,” Becky elaborated when she saw that Vickie had no idea what was going on. “I think we're going to need the conference room, so while the two of you are changing his diaper, Reiko and I will brief Rita, get Sarah up here, and track down Candy and Marge. And Ian ...” Becky held out her hand. “This will go a lot more smoothly if Rita sees the photograph.” Becky was right, and Ian knew it. He pulled out his wallet, removed the snapshot, and surrendered it without a word. “Let me ...” “No, Vic; not here.” Becky was adamant. “Please … wait for Sarah. Don't force Ian to explain this more than once.” Not giving Vickie a chance to protest, Becky and Reiko headed for Rita's office. Feeling abandoned and bewildered, Vickie led Priscilla and Ian down the corridor to the supply room. She stood tamely by while Priscilla helped herself to diapers, and then escorted the pair to a room equipped with a changing table housing an abundance of wipes, lotions and powder. Watching the policewoman efficiently attack Ian's dirty bottom with wet wipe after wet wipe before powdering him and pinning him into a nice, clean diaper, Vickie could not help but wonder whether Priscilla would soon be attending to her diaper changes as well. There seemed to be a lot of Sarah in the policewoman, but would that make them natural allies, or mutual enemies? . . . . For the Carlson household, the night had bordered on forever. After watching Cindy being perp walked in front of the ghouls who reported the late night news, her sister Andrea had run screaming to her room, slamming the door behind her, certain that she would never again be able to show her face at school. Her boyfriend would dump her, she had declared, and she would be forever banished from the cheerleading squad. Her locker would be overflowing with diapers (probably used), and Felicity Gundy and the rest of the Gloom and Doom Squad would hound her with pacifiers and baby bottles. Did convents take sixteen year old virgins? As for Cindy's parents, Andrew and Emily had stayed up all night, waiting for the phone call that never came. When Marilyn Marsden did finally telephone with good tidings, the two of them hugged and kissed before debating their next move. A small town in rural Kansas was beginning to sound awfully good. When Andrew finally summoned up the courage to drive to work, he knew that he was in for it as soon as he pulled into the parking lot. Having the parking spot closest to the front door was one of the perks of owning your own company, but this morning the sign prominently reading RESERVED FOR THE PRESIDENT was festooned with all manner of pink ribbons. The President's spacious office was on the fourth floor, at the end of a long corridor, facing west to capture the often splendid sunset through the floor to ceiling plate glass window. It was truly a magnificent view, but this morning he found himself sharing it with a teddy bear that appeared to be about four feet tall. Predictably, Teddy was sporting a diaper and ruffled pink baby pants, with a matching bonnet and a bib decorated with pink lambs and dancing unicorns. Andrew's desk was piled high with diapers and baby bottles-- all pink, of course-- and a variety of pacifiers. One of them was so large that at first glance he mistook it for a dildo, but on reflection he thought how adorable Cindy would look sucking on it at the annual family Christmas dinner. If Cindy truly wanted to go back to wearing diapers, he was certain that Emily would be delighted once more to have a baby in the house, if only for the few weeks between the fall and winter terms. Maybe Andrea would enjoy changing her, Andrew mused, and I'd like to be a fly on the wall at Emily's next get together with Bernice Miller. Emily was a senior when Bernice took over the house, and over the years they have spent endless hours organizing the Winter Carnival, decorating for the Formals … wonder how Bernice is going to explain this disaster to all the alumnae who still regard the house as an extension of their family? . . . . “Knock, knock.” “What is it this time, Vic? I'm busy.” Enmeshed in her paperwork, Rita didn't look up until Becky cleared her throat. When she did, she grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Becks, but I swear to God that you've got her entrance down cold. You even sound like … her.” Rita's voice trailed off when she saw the grim look on Becky and Reiko's faces. “What's up,” she managed to ask. “Is Marge still doing rounds inside?” Becky was referring to the secure ward. Rita nodded, still wondering what was up. “And Candy?” "In the conference room; her group is running late.” “Can we use it over the next hour?” “Sure … want to tell me what for?” “I'll go find Marge,” Reiko said as she slipped out the door. “The Circle can't wait until Saturday night. Call Sarah, and tell her to drop everything and get up her now!” “Becky, enough with the drama, already. What is this all about?” “Ian. He's here with that policewoman. Right now, Vickie is helping them replenish his diaper supply, which is running on empty. Then, after the officer changes him, she'll bring them here. Rita, right now Vickie is running on autopilot because it's clear as day that Ian and the lady cop are madly in love, but somehow, not at her expense. And that's the smallest part of what's going on.” “THE SMALLEST PART?” Rita was flabbergasted. “The smallest part,” she repeated more calmly. “Yes,” Becky nodded. “Right now, there are forty-one sorority girls down in the cafeteria being interviewed by Gayle Soderberg and Marcia Mason-- the diaper thieves. Ian brought them here; part of their punishment is to do community service as candy stripers until they graduate, and he's trying to arrange it.” “Typical Ian,” Rita sighed, her relief evident. “Anyone who needs a helping hand ...” “He didn't adopt Don and Phil.” Becky cut her off in mid sentence. “He's adopted all forty-one of these girls.” “That's ridiculous,” Rita scoffed. “You can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice,” Becky went on. “Last night, at the sorority house, the girls were at each other's throats, and to pull them back from the brink, he told them what happened to him in Viet Nam-- the parts that we have yet to hear. And it worked! Forty-one of the fifty-two girls in the house went to court this morning and pled guilty, including some who weren't even involved! He took them into his heart, and they responded. So, now he's a surrogate parent to an entire sorority, and I pity the chances of anyone who threatens to harm so much as a hair on one of their heads. Rita, we tend to forget that Ian is a hardened combat veteran … a highly trained specialist in handing out death, with plenty of it in his background. And he's wallowing in guilt … guilt far worse than what we have imagined. If someone threatens one of his daughters ...” “He'll explode.” Rita nodded. It was all so obvious. “What have you learned?” She was on her feet now, thinking ahead to what needed to happen in the conference room. “Apparently only a small part of what Priscilla … what the policewoman has learned. She and Marcia went at it in the cafeteria. Priscilla says that it's so bad that he needs to dance around the edges, while Marcia correctly points out that it's the darkest parts of his trauma that are the wellspring of his guilt. She's urging him to get it all out, and to get a new therapist if it's too dark for Vickie … for any of us … to hear.” “Come on, Becky … what have you learned?” In response, Becky took the photograph out of her pocket, and passed it over. “Ian's wife. Her name was Nguyen. She's dead, Rita … massacred along with everyone else in the village except for the babies and smallest children. His daughter was taken … and all these years later, Linh is still missing. She must be nine or ten now.” “Oh, Dear God!” Rita could not stop her hand from shaking, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, Dear God,” she repeated, choking on the words. “Was it My Lai?” Rita's voice had grown very small. “No, not My Lai. It's all being covered up, and in the shadows the CIA is looking all over the world for his daughter. They think that whoever did this was after the little girl, gambling that she would inherit her father's gift. None of us really appreciate how rare Ian is, and how valuable, though it's plain to see in his passport if only we stretch our imaginations.” “The guy's been everywhere,” Rita whispered, remembering how she had compared her own milquetoast existence to his just the night before. “He wants to have more children; that's the good news.   But Priscilla says that there are strings attached, and that's what the three of you need to find out. And you probably don't have much time-- too many people have heard the whole story, including people in this building.” . . . . “Do I want to be present for this conversation?” Ian was lying on a changing table, with Priscilla hovering over him to the right, and Vickie to the left. Priscilla had removed his thoroughly soaked and dirty diaper, cleaned him up, and was now in the process of powdering him. She would be finished in less than a minute, and he was not at all sure what would happen next. “One hurdle at a time, Secret Agent Man.” Priscilla winked at Vickie, who had remained silent throughout the diaper changing ritual. “I haven't had a chance to tell you, but I had a heart to heart with my parents over breakfast. Last night? You won my mother over, Ian; after what you did for the girls, she's your biggest fan.” “And your Dad?” “He thinks we're all nuts, but he knows that he's outnumbered and outgunned. He's coming along tonight, so you'll have a chance to win him over too. I'm looking forward to seeing the two of you doing the male bonding bit over tequila shots.” “I'm a tequila snob,” Vickie confessed; “if we're doing shots, I want Don Julio Blanco.” “A true connoisseur,” Ian laughed. “Personally, I prefer rot gut, especially when playing by Hong Kong Rules. When I run out of cash, I want to be well and truly tanked!” “I'm with Vickie on this one!” Priscilla grinned. “After all, we ladies do have delicate stomachs-- and our bar is well stocked with high end tequila! Reposado, anyone?” “So, are you two going to make this work?” “I'm not possessive, Ian,... you know that.” Vickie was pensive. “If you love Priscilla, then she has my vote … to join our household, I mean. Of course, I can't speak for Rita or Sarah.” “Thank you, Vickie.” Priscilla reached across the table to grip Vickie's arm. “My Dad isn't thrilled, but my Mom is good with this, and that means a lot to me. And don't worry about Sarah and Rita. When we all sit down and Ian takes the floor, a lot of things that people take for granted around here are going to be thrown overboard.” “The photograph ...” “A good place to start. It's just that … some of the details … Vickie, I don't want you … any of you … to hear some of what he told me yesterday. Please, if his therapist has to know what Ian saw when he got out of the hospital and went back to Viet Nam, I'm begging you to send him to someone else. I don't want you to do this.” “I'm sorry, Priscilla, but I'm going to see this through to the end. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't handle blood and gore-- and the worst that the human imagination can summon to the surface.” “I didn't sleep well last night, and I've seen some bad car wrecks.” “And I've had sessions where I had to go out and get raging drunk in order to get the demons out of my head. Priscilla, this is part of the price that our professions demand of us.” “Vickie, it involves children,” Ian warned. Vickie reached out to clasp his hand, and stared deeply into his eyes. “Do you really want to have children?” “If I have anything left in the tank,” Ian said as he reached for her, “I want to have a family more than anything.” “Well, the good news is that, unless the lab botched the sperm sample that Candy collected from you in the hydrotherapy chamber, you are ridiculously fertile. And by some miracle, the three of us are still capable of bearing children, although the clock is definitely ticking. So, with four of us ...” Vickie paused to look at Priscilla. “Ready, willing, and definitely able,” she laughed. “So, with four of us wanting to get pregnant,” Vickie continued, “you might not get a lot of sleep once we all get settled.” “I, for one, am planning on keeping you very busy,” she leered as she ran a finger over his well powdered but still exposed shaft. “Your crib or mine,” Ian asked affectionately. And then he turned serious. “Right now, I don't want to plan too far ahead … not until you've heard the whole of it.” “It's that bad?” Vickie's eyes had grown large. Ian nodded. “On many levels” he added enigmatically. . . . . Rita swiveled in her chair, a nervous habit that told her colleagues and friends that she was deep in thought. She was peering out the window, but her eyes were blind to the view. She went over all of it in her mind. She had written the script, planned everything out. A heart to heart in the afternoon with Ian to explore his feelings about children … buying Vickie and Ian some time at the bar, and with it time for her to work on Sarah, get her to ease off. Then the grand finale on Saturday night, with Ian taking center stage and the Circle laying the foundations for their new household. And it had all just blown up in her face. “You're right.” Rita picked up the phone, and dialed Sarah's extension from memory. “Sarah, it's Rita. You need to get up here right now!”

There wasn't anything wrong with that chapter, Kat so you have nothing to be sorry for.  And for heaven's sake...  Get well.  I'm also delighted to hear Amanda say "You're not a baby, you just have some issues the rest of us don't."  Although, at the same time, she's feeding him breast milk, keeping him locked in with baby gates and a crib...  But at least she's trying to let him keep some of his adulthood and maybe, just maybe, working on her own view point.  As always, thanks for sharing.

Oh man thats really cool! Bobby brown is reddy to get down...im sorry iĺ see myself out. Awesome yall will be there at the same time