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OFF STAGE Janis closed her eyes, and keeping them firmly shut, slowly counted to three. She was trapped inside a nightmare, held captive behind the locked door of an insane asylum. She had only one chance to escape, and that was to wake up. Slowly opening her eyes, Janis trembled. Nothing had changed. She was still standing on the plushly carpeted floor of the psych ward. There's no carpeting down on Four, but then we don't have to worry about inmates hurting themselves when they are knocked down while trying to escape … Looking around, Janis registered the deeply stuffed chairs scattered around the room, many of them occupied by members of the staff. Some looked to be hard at work, brows furrowed as they concentrated on writing up reports; others were nursing coffees or chatting quietly with a colleague. No one was wearing a strait jacket. They must keep the patients locked away. How did Professor Grady ever manage to get out? She made eye contact with an orderly. He was tall and muscular, perhaps a football player in high school or college. He'll tackle anyone trying to escape … an open field tackle. “Can I help you”, he asked politely. But his eyes were cool and appraising. “Uh, hi. My name is Janis Marsden. I work down on Four. Marcia Mason sent me up to see Doctor Stevenson.” Janis started to show him the note, but remembering its contents, hastily dropped her hand to her side. She was wearing a dress, and had no pocket within which to conceal it. “Oh, okay,” he said with a warm smile. “Her door is open; just knock, and go on in.” The orderly gestured in the direction of an office off to her left. “Thank you,” she answered politely, as she began walking away. No one else was paying her any attention. “Excuse me,” she said as she stood in the doorway. There were two women in the room, and she recognized one of them from the cafeteria. “I'm looking for Doctor Stevenson.” Janis wanted to run and hide, but there was nowhere to go, and if she tried, they would probably put her in a strait jacket. So, she stood there, as immobile as a statue, the nightmare refusing to let go. “I'm Doctor Stevenson,” Rita said, “and this is my colleague, Doctor Cameron.” Rita casually gestured at Becky. “What can I do for you?” “My name is Janis Marsden,” she repeated. Rita looked at her sharply. “Are you related to Marilyn Marsden?” “My mother,” Janis confessed. At least, it felt like a confession. “Ian's agent,” Rita commented in an aside to her colleague. “She came to terms with Sarah yesterday morning.” “Does Ian know that he has an agent,” Becky asked with a wicked grin. Rita nodded. “He signed off on the deal in the afternoon. Sarah thinks that she will do him a lot of good. I hope so, because his salary is ridiculous. Seventeen thousand a year... what a joke!” “He is only making seventeen thousand dollars?” Janis couldn't believe what she was hearing. “But … but … he's so talented,” she protested, her voice once again trailing off. “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree,” Rita replied. “Now, what brings you to our little corner of the world?” “I'm … uh … one of the sorority girls arrested for stealing diapers. But I also work here … on Four … a … a … a candy striper. Marcia Mason wanted me to come up and see you. She … uh … she wrote a note.” Blushing a deep shade of red, Janis meekly surrendered the note as she dropped her eyes to stare at the floor. Rita looked at her quizzically, then took a look. Rita, this is to introduce Janis Marsden, who is a second shift candy striper in my department. Janis is one of the sorority girls with a thing for stealing diapers, and part of her sentence includes wearing and using them until she graduates. Please outfit her, including baby pants and locking canvas cover. Give three keys to Professor Grady, and give the fourth to Janis, with instructions to leave it on the desk in my office. I am hoping that she will open up to you, and that you have the time to work with her if she does. She is well liked down here, and I want to help her get through this as best I can. Marcia Mason Rita silently passed the note to Becky, who read it in turn. “I'll check on Candy,” Becky remarked as she handed the note back to Rita. Excusing herself to Janis, she left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. “I'd like you to read this.” Rita passed the note back to Janis. Janis read the note a second time, hoping that she had originally misunderstood its contents. She hadn't. “It's a good thing that you're wearing a dress,” Rita commented, “because you won't leave this ward until you are properly diapered-- and our diapers are very thick and difficult to conceal. If you like to wear pants, you will need to buy some at least one and possibly two sizes larger than what you wear right now.” “I know,” Janis whispered. “I've seen Professor Grady's diapers; he makes no effort to hide them.” She was still staring at the floor. “Janis? I want you to look at me.” Rita's tone was somehow both gentle and stern at the same time. Janis looked up, and to her surprise, found herself looking into eyes that were warm with sympathy. Maybe she wasn't en route to the gallows after all. “If you want to talk to me,” Rita smiled kindly, “I promise to make time for you. But this will have to be your decision.” “Decisions … that poor man.” Janis was thinking about Ian, still trying to process how the Professor could treat them with such kindness after what they had done to him. “You're thinking about Ian?” Rita's voice was very, very soft-- it was one thing for Ian to regard Janis and the others as his daughters, but did Janis somehow see in him a surrogate father? Becky's right … the waters here are treacherous and deep … Janis nodded. “It was just a stupid sorority stunt … the diapers, I mean. And you know what? In the beginning, I didn't want to do it, but now? Now, I'm glad that I did because … you know what? It's the first time in my life that I've done something daring … something reckless. My whole life, I've been the good, little girl who sat quietly at the back of the classroom, politely raising my hand to ask a question, never speaking out of turn. That's no life … that's no life at all! I'm nineteen, and I want more!” “It's funny,” Rita shrugged. “Last night, standing in my dull, dull living room, I had exactly the same thought. The difference is that I'm thirty-four. You are fortunate to have discovered at so early an age what it has taken me another fifteen years to figure out.” “So, you understand where I'm coming from?” There was a hopeful look on Janis' face. It felt like Doctor Stevenson had just thrown her a lifeline when she was about to go under for the third time. “Very much so,” Rita acknowledged. “Janis, I hope that you will seek me out; I think that it would be good for both of us to get together, and just talk.” “I'd like that,” Janis smiled. “I'd like that a lot. I like working here, and the only thing I'm sorry about is disappointing the people I work with. I've been thinking about declaring a major that would make it possible for me to work her full time … after I graduate, I mean.” “We can talk about that as well,” Rita said with a smile of her own. “But for now?” She clapped her hands, signaling that the interview was over. “For now, I'm going to walk you down the hall, gather up what we need, and put you in a diaper-- the first of many. Then, I'll have to adjourn to the conference room for a staff meeting; Professor Grady apparently has a great deal to tell us.” “He does,” Janis confirmed. “That poor man … I worry about him. He's beating himself up, and it's so unfair because there was nothing that he could have done all those months he was in the hospital.” “So you already know what this is all about?” “Uh huh,” Janis shyly replied. Rita looked at her appraisingly, her thoughts again returning to Becky's shrewd assessment of the danger that now surrounded Ian. “You admire him, don't you?” “Uh huh,” Janis said anew. “Well, if you're willing, I'd like you to join us. Your perspective on what he has to say could be very valuable because it will be so different from our own.” “Thank you. I want to help him, Doctor Stevenson.” “Rita. We're not big on titles around here, Janis; they tend to get in the way.” “Thank you. He's suffering, Rita, and it's so unfair. He's so nice … so gentle and kind. Listening to him last night? It felt like my heart was broken, and then someone took a sledgehammer to the pieces. I want this to stop.” “As do we. Now, come on. Let's get you diapered, and then you can join what we call The Circle.” . . . . “Julia!” Harriet jumped up from behind her desk, and all but sprinted to Lullaby's entryway. Grinning hugely, she wrapped her arms around Julia, and hugged her close. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You're a lifesaver! All three of you!” Breaking Harriet's grip, Julia stepped back. “I take it that you've heard the news?” “Saw it on the TV last night. And then Uncle Vinnie called this morning; he says that forty-one girls in that sorority are gonna become our customers. But Julia, we don't have nearly enough adult diapers to service that many new clients! What am I gonna do?” “Well, the first thing that you're going to do is calm down. Hi, Francie!” Julia peeked over Harriet's shoulder, and saw her assistant lurking in the background. “Hello, Missus Canon, and welcome.” Francine mimicked hanging herself with a rope. “We're dying here, and it's a slow death!!” Looking around the office, Julia noted that four different desks were awash in customer files. “Okay, first things, first. I have two bags of Ian's diapers in the trunk-- one clean, the other in urgent need of the hottest temperature and the strongest detergent you can manage. We are talking serious stink here, and I say that as a mom with lots of diaper changing experience in my background. Next, we're going to dispatch a truck to the sorority house, and pick up the diapers recovered there. Bernice Miller, the house mom, wants them out of her dining room tout suite.” “On it,” Francine called out; “just give me the address, and it's done!” Address in hand, Francie rushed out to make the arrangements. “Now,” Julia asked as she once again surveyed the office, mentally trying to get a handle on the hill that now had to be climbed. “What are we dealing with here?” “Chaos,” Harriet shot back; “utter, complete, and total chaos. Customers have been calling in all morning long, and I do mean non-stop. Some want to cancel their service. Others want us to compensate them for being inconvenienced with free deliveries: a week, a month … I've heard the lot. We're being asked for refunds, rebates, credits to account ...” “But on the plus side,” Francine cut in as she returned to her desk, “we're also fielding a lot of new orders from mothers who didn't even know the Twin Cities had a diaper delivery service.” “And then there's Emmett Bailey,” Harriet moaned. “Julia, can you imagine it? He wants to come out here and interview us! An insider's look at the diaper service industry, he calls it, and the free publicity would be worth its weight in gold, but ...” “But you think he's got an angle,” Julia grinned; “maybe wants to do a ride along with whoever is going to be doing the pick up and drop off at the sorority house? Maybe snag an interview with a heavily diapered sorority girl or two?” “Exactly! I mean, publicity is one thing, but I don't want us to pile on. Those girls are in enough trouble as it is. Can you imagine what their parents are going to do? Twenty five hundred dollar fines! That's a lot of money!” “Bailey's easy. Call your uncle, and lay it out for him. I'm guessing that he won't want the press to come crawling around one of his businesses. Letting him decide gets you off the hook.” “Now,” Julia declared as she clapped her hands, “with regard to your forty-one new adult clients, here's where we stand. Ian had them ferried over to the hospital, where they are being interviewed with an eye to doing community service as candy stripers. If they're accepted, the charge nurses to whom they'll be assigned will be locking them into those monster diapers that Ian wears ...” “For how long?” Francine was shrieking with laughter. “Until they graduate. But this is just a makeshift arrangement. Ian is putting your uncle in touch with the hospital's purchasing agent, so you need to figure out how much additional inventory you'll need. If each girl goes through thirty-five diapers a week, that's almost fifteen hundred additional units.” “We need to lay our hands on one of these diapers ASAP,” Francine declared. Harriet nodded in agreement. “Do we have enough washer and dryer capacity on the floor to handle the load, or do we need to install new equipment? New equipment means amending our Special Use Permit, a sit down with the city inspector, giving a presentation to the city council … AND MORE PAPERWORK!!! I HATE PAPERWORK!!” “And I hate stakeouts,” Julia laughed. “I swear, the next time I have to freeze my butt off in some high school parking lot, I'm going to be wearing one of your diapers! Just tell me where to find some of those cute baby pants that Ian wears over his!” “Would you like pink with ruffles,” Francine queried, her eyes full of merriment. “Just the thing,” Julia crowed. “And they'd really turn my husband on!” “Well, let me give you directions to a shop in the northern suburbs called Fantasy Island. If Jessica is there, tell her that Francine sent you. You'll get a discount.” “All right … give. What's this all about?” “Quite a few of our adult customers are men in their twenties and thirties … even a few in their forties. Either they have a diaper fetish, or they are what is known in certain circles as adult babies.” Francine and Harriet grinned knowingly. Francine had dated one such customer-- a sort of trial run to determine whether she would be interested in a D/s relationship. “Adult babies?” Julia couldn't wrap her head around the concept. “Yeah … guys who want to be forced to wear and use diapers, drink from baby bottles, suck on pacifiers, eat baby food … the whole nine yards.” “Are you sure? I mean, Priscilla changes Ian's diapers … bottle feeds him with breast milk, no less … and he's definitely no adult baby. It's therapy!” “Therapy works.” Francine's grin had turned malicious. “But offer him a pink pacifier, and see what happens.” “Francie and I have different takes on Ian,” Harriet elaborated. “I think that he's a man's man, whereas she insists that there's a little baby girl in there who's just aching to come out and play with her mommy.” “Hmm.” Julia had a thoughtful look on her face. “Maybe I'll run this by Priscilla … or maybe I'll sit on it to await the day when I'm taking care of Ian … changing his diaper and bottle feeding him. You're right: a pacifier would be a huge tell!” “Is this in the offing?” Francine found the idea of changing Ian's diaper and nursing him at her breast incredibly exciting. A D/s relationship with Professor Ian Grady was something that any woman with an ounce of imagination would jump at. “My husband certainly thinks so,” Julia giggled. “And I detect a certain amount of jealousy there. A much younger man, who is making my daughter very, very happy ...” “SHE'S SLEEPING WITH HIM?” Harriet was stunned. “Good for Ian,” Francine clapped. “I keep telling you, Harry-- not all babies are equal!” “But he's engaged to that nurse at the hospital! How ...” “Priscilla is joining her household. Sarah will now have to share her husband to be with, count 'em, three other women! He's going to be busy!” “Especially if they all want babies of their own!” Francine found the whole saga hilarious in the extreme. “Yeah.” Julia's tone changed abruptly. “But there's a shadow hanging over everything. Last night, at the sorority house, he begged the girls to stand by one another … to think of themselves as a family. He wanted them to try and imagine what it feels like to have a wife, and to learn that she's been murdered because he wasn't there to protect her ...” “And to have a daughter,” she whispered, “a little baby girl … taken away because he wasn't there to keep her safe … missing all these years ...” “Oh, no.” Harriet was shaking her head, her stomach knotting. “Oh, no … oh, no ...” Appalled, Francine had visibly paled. “He's one of a very special breed,” Julia marveled. “The kind of man who will charge the machine gun without hesitation because he understands that retreat is not an option. Will I try and comfort him if the need should arise? Twenty-fours hours ago, I would have said 'no' without even thinking about it. But this morning? Knowing what I now know?” Julia looked at them both, and there was steel in her glance. “In a heartbeat.” . . . . Deep in thought, fingers drumming on her desktop, Suzie Marshall was a general preparing for war. The battlefield was well marked, the enemy visible in the distance. It was time, she thought, to line up her soldiers, and charge the barricades. Her opposite number was Dean Willard Turgeson, a pantywaist whom she had defeated in many a previous engagement. But he was a mere lieutenant; the enemy command lurked beyond the horizon, in the offices of academic vice-presidents and, ultimately, in the office of the university president. The current occupant was to the manor born, a shallow, weak-minded heir to one of the state's great industrial fortunes. His one talent was to glad hand the donor class, alumnae who dreamed in turn of gleaming towers and athletic arenas carrying their names into the distant future, into the world of their grandchildren and beyond. The objectives of this particular campaign were twofold. The first was to prevent ZAP from losing its charter, which could only be revoked by the National Board. But there was only one finger on this particular trigger to worry about, and that was the Dean's. If he decided to act, and attached a cover letter to the police report, Bernice Miller would be out of a job. Suzie's fingers quickened their pace. Walt Mischof was the proverbial good guy, and everybody on campus who was anybody was waiting for the big lunk to ask Bernice out on a real date. It was obvious to all and sundry that they were attracted to one another-- well, obvious to everyone except Walt and Bernice. And besides, Walt was so damned honest that it would never occur to him to tone down his report anyway. Nope, there was no help coming from that direction. Blackmail or intimidation, Suzie mentally conceded. Blackmail or intimidation … It would be easy to spread rumors about the Dean's pathetic little dicklet, which she knew from her scalp hunting days didn't quite reach two inches in length when fully erect. She could even spice things up a bit … insinuate that the only way she had been able to get him off involved a massive dildo and his rear end. She still had the dildo, safely locked away in a bedroom dresser drawer. And then there were the photographs. You couldn't claim a scalp unless you had the proof. She had claimed Willard Turgeson, all right, but she had kept the really nasty photos to herself. But you can only play the ace up your sleeve once, and I've always held it in reserve against the day when it's our charter that's on the line … Suzie opened her address book, picked up the phone, and started making the rounds. The house moms and dads would all rally round, and when it came to irritating this or any other Dean, some of her friends could be quite creative indeed. And besides, Wendy Stafford, her first year bedwetting Legacy, had come up with a brilliant idea, and the sooner Suzie tested these particular waters, the better. Wendy had volunteered to leave PISS for ZAP, where her nighttime diapers would now let her fit right in, and she had suggested that girls in the other houses with wetting issues might follow her lead if given the chance. This would balance out some or all of the financial loss that ZAP would suffer when eleven of its members abandoned ship. But Suzie wanted to take Wendy's idea one step farther: if she lost Wendy, she would happily take a refugee from ZAP in exchange. It would be a win-win for both houses. The second challenge awaiting her was going to be infinitely more difficult to tackle. If the student body and faculty learned that there was a CIA agent in their midst, the anti-war crowd would respond with sit-ins and demonstrations, demanding his expulsion from their hallowed, anti-imperialist turf. A president who shunned bad publicity might opt to give the mob what they wanted, and a first year professor without tenure was easily sacrificed. Idly, Suzie wondered what would happen if she phoned the Central Intelligence Agency, and asked to speak with Ian's boss.

Happy Birthday story!  Should say happy birthday to us.  We got the present.  great chapter.  However, I really think this trip to the mall was a big mistake.  It appears some of the girls didn’t want to take things seriously enough and that’s causing some big problems. I hope Nikki isn’t distracted enough saving one girl while Carly and Beth are targeted. I think Carly can take care of herself but again she could be in danger trying to help out others.  I am really looking forward to finding out how this works out. 

I was 4'9", and weighed 64lbs which most people don't believe since I'm now just over 6'.  

How tall were you? I was 4’3 going in to 9th grade…