Babypants

Glad you commented on what is happening here in terms of the story's architecture. To give credit where it is due, I learned this trick from James Clavell. It's very useful in long form serials.

Thanks for another great suggestion. Gonna run with it in the next scene.

My thought exactly. The guy's mother tells him that wearing a diaper doesn't mean you're a baby, but that how she's treating him. And the girl is 25 and living in a dorm?

I died on 11/23/95. 22 minutes, body temp below 92F. Really interesting experience. I recommend that everybody try it at least once.

ANNOUNCEMENT: the first scene in this story can now be found on the STORIES page, and the remaining scenes will follow. Comments will be removed so that scene will follow scene without interruption.

MATA HARI, PART 2 Turning off the highway onto the service road, Gary Macklin braked to a halt. A big, black caddie that had been parked on the shoulder had pulled out in front of him and come to a complete stop. “What the fuck,” Gary muttered to himself when the driver opened his door and stepped out. He was wearing a three piece suit, and it didn't look like something that he'd bought off the rack at JCPenney's. “Johnny Spagnoli,” he called out as he approached the truck. “I'm from the local,” he amplified as he flashed his identification. “Word's come down from on high that the FDA is going to pay 186 a visit … the usual health and safety bullshit. Rest of the week we're gonna be inspecting everything that moves. So park it. We're going to run your manifest against the load, and make sure that everything's on the up and up.” “No sweat,” Gary called out as he pulled onto the shoulder and shut the engine down. Collecting his paperwork, he jumped down from the cab and walked to the rear of the truck. “Who's on the receiving end,” Johnny asked. “A couple of yacht clubs … food orders for their restaurants. Nothing unusual.” “Ever deliver to the docks?” “Yeah. Got one coming up tomorrow. That big sport fisherman alongside pier six.” Gary pointed at the Marlin Hunter, which was visible from several hundred yards away. “Good sized order … gets filled once every three weeks.” “Anything unusual?” “Nah, just more of the same. Why, what's up?” “Contraband. If somebody's moving weed, the local could be hung out to dry.” “Never mind yours truly,” Gary barked. “Okay, let's take a look at the load. If it lines up with the manifest, you're good to go. But I'll be here tomorrow to check out your delivery to the dock. Just pull off and park behind me, okay?” “Sure. Not a problem.” “Sounds like an odd load. You'd think this guy would buy what he needs for his passengers at a market and liquor store in town, not order in bulk from a distributor all the way over in San Fernando. Sounds a bit fishy, pardon the pun.” “Yeah, I see what you mean. If he's booked for the day, even for an overnight run, why not run over to Vons? Hell, there's a liquor store just a few blocks from here. Using us only makes sense if he going to be at sea for a week … maybe even a month.” “We'll figure it out tomorrow. Now, let's get to work.” Gary nodded. He opened up and lowered the lift gate. Thanks to the union contract, every truck in the delivery fleet had one, which saved a lot of wear and tear on Gary Macklin's back. . . . . “The last day of classes,” Karen breathed, “and given the way the calendar falls, this will also be our only meeting this month.” Karen Walsh had convened the Panhellenic Council's last meeting of the calendar year in one of the comfortably appointed conference rooms adjoining the Faculty Club on the fourth floor of the Student Union. Each of the fifty-five houses that made up Fraternity Row had a representative present. The meetings were always well attended in no small part because the Dean's office gave Karen a budget that she chose to spend largely on imported wines and elegant hors d'oeuvres. “I'd like to begin by welcoming Professor Grady, our new faculty advisor, who's joining us for the first time. Tomorrow night he will be attending one of those corporate affairs where the big wigs will expect him to ask for contributions to the scholarship fund. It would be nice if he had something else to offer them besides drunken parties and crazy stunts.” “Dozens of us are volunteering at the hospital,” Melanie pointed out. “Court ordered community service might not impress them,” Karen shot back. “I can use it,” Ian interrupted. “Tippi is working with my fiancee, and Sarah is very impressed. She wants Tippi to take on more hours at full pay. Cindy is also being offered extra hours by her supervisor. Both of them will do Directed Studies next term to earn academic credit alongside their paychecks. This is the sort of thing that catches people's attention. If anybody else is doing Directed Studies, especially in the Business School, let me know. Business and econ majors should also be an easy sell. Make up a list, and have somebody bring it by my office tomorrow during office hours.” “Lots of econ majors in the houses,” Stan Carmichael pointed out. “Econ … premed … we actually have a higher graduation rate than the student body at large ...” “And our alumni are a network that we join when we leave here,” another girl pointed out. “Connections open a lot of doors, insuring that our degrees don't go to waste. So if you want to think of it this way, the houses are a great investment.” “Well put,” Ian grinned. “And you are?” “Sorry. Heather Hagen, Kappa Kappa Nu.” “Glad to meet you, Heather. Please ask your friends majoring in econ to consider adding a foreign language to their portfolio. I guarantee you that this will make their resumes stand out from the crowd, especially if they've mastered one of the Asian languages. My beginning Japanese class is filled with eager beavers coming over from the banks and corporate offices downtown … guys in their twenties looking for an edge on the competition.” “Italian would also be worthwhile,” Stan crowed. “Professor Grady could get them an interview with one of his Mafia friends.” “All of whom are sharp businessmen,” Ian laughed. “The pay and fringe benefits are outstanding!” “While I've got your attention,” he went on, “there's another subject that I want to address. Zeta Alpha Pi is going to do a theme night for their end of term party-- a tribute to the Roaring Twenties, Great Gatsby style. So, formals and shimmy dresses for the ladies, and tuxedos for the gentlemen. There aren't many shops in the Twin Cities renting and selling this stuff, so we could hit a real snag if one of the other houses is also hosting a formal affair on the same evening. So, why don't we work up a calendar? Try and spread things out rather than have a bunch of parties with the same dress code on the same night. Make sense?” “It's always a problem,” Heather sighed. “We run up against parties on other campuses … corporate parties … even high school events ...” “It's pretty much every house for itself,” Stan pointed out. “Always been that way. The party houses do well; the others? Not so hot.” “So, what? Are all fifty-five houses going to do their thing on Saturday the twenty-second? Look, we've got the rest of December and a big chunk of January to play with. If we work together, everybody gets a slice of the pie.” Ian looked around. Sitting next to Karen at the front of the room he was able to make eye contact with the whole crowd, and this was where his officer training and experience served him well. He wanted to win them all over, not just the houses who historically lost out in this competition. “You want to impress the Presidents and CEO's I'm dining with tomorrow night? Break the mold. These guys undoubtedly know all about the rivalry among the houses; they expect you to be knifing each other in the back. So why not surprise them? Prove that you can work together for the common good. A little maturity on your part will make it a lot easier for me to make my pitch for the scholarship fund.” “It's worth a try,” Karen mused, “and it's not like there's a whole lot of work involved. Just sound out your brothers and sisters over dinner tonight; figure out what you'd like to do, and when. Write down what you decide and get it to Professor Grady tomorrow afternoon during his office hours.” “How's that going to help us,” a voice at the back of the room called out. “All you'll have is proof in writing that we're all going our separate ways.” “I disagree,” Ian bluntly commented. “What I'll be holding in my hands is proof positive that you're working together, doing your best to make sure that no house gets left behind. It's just like the corporate universe. Large corporations are organized into divisions and departments, and they have to cooperate to achieve the optimal result.” “Karen's right,” Stan called out. “It's worth a try, and it doesn't cost us anything. I have no idea what my house wants to do, and I'm the President of Lamda house, for God's sake. We just haven't got around to talking about it yet.” “Leaving it awfully late, aren't you Stan?” Ian had a big grin on his face; Stan had just taken one for the team. “Everybody good with this,” Karen shouted. When no one demurred, she ruled that following through on Professor Grady's proposal was now officially on the agenda. She was making history, and it felt good. Appointing Ian Grady as their faculty advisor was turning out to be the best decision she had ever made during her time at the helm of the Panhellenic Council. . . . . “Whew! It stinks in here! Open the window already!” John Mortenson had returned to his office from a College committee meeting on the opposite side of campus, and the smell hit him the moment he opened the door. “Aw, what's the matter,” Reiko asked as she favored John with her most seductive smile. He had given her the spare key to his office so that she could wait for him in comfort rather than remain standing out in the hallway. “Doesn't changing my poopy diaper turn you on anymore?” “I'm thinking of the janitorial staff,” John replied as he slid past her to open his office window. “This place smells like an outhouse!” Reiko wrapped her arms around her lover and squeezed him tight. He responded in kind as he leaned down to kiss her, a long, lingering kiss. “I'll change you when we get home,” John whispered when he came up for air. “Or maybe not. It all depends on how naughty you are.” He kissed her again as he rubbed her diapered bottom. The thought of Reiko's poop spreading everywhere that the diaper would permit really turned him on. Reiko had beautiful skin, and changing her diaper was a ritual that they both enjoyed. He loved rubbing lotions into the cracks and crevasses that awaited him after he thoroughly cleaned her wet and messy bottom. And Reiko was addicted to the feelings that coursed through her as his fingers sensuously glided over her love button. Sex with John was intoxicating. “You should change me here,” she murmured; “you don't want me to get a diaper rash, do you?” “It's going to happen,” he whispered once more as his fingers cupped the crack of her ass and pushed up hard. He wanted her rear to be completely coated in poop. “But it's like I told you before. When it happens, I will love you twice as much, and take care of you as only I can.” “As only you can,” Reiko breathed. “Will you give me a bath?” “Certainly,” John agreed; “when I get around to changing you … tonight, maybe … or tomorrow morning.” “You would make me wear a shitty diaper all night long? You beast!” “A beast who loves you. Hear me growl,” he teased as he began to purr into her ear. “I love you,” Reiko admitted in an almost sorrowful tone of voice. “Let's go home.” “With pleasure,” John sighed as he tightened his grip on her ass. “With pleasure.” “Should we close the window?” “Yes, and then we should use the stairs.” “To hear is to obey,” she teased as she walked out the door. John closed the window and followed her. He had something special planned for the evening ahead, and it did not involve diapers. . . . . “Who needs changing?” Francine had been waiting in the living room for Ian and Priscilla to come home. Sarah had changed Vickie at the hospital, and she had only finished changing Francine's dirty diaper a few minutes earlier. Sarah had once again tasked her to take care of the new arrivals; she had even passed her the key to Ian's chastity cage! This was her night in the rotation, and she was planning on giving Ian a taste of what she had planned for the evening while she cleaned his messy bottom. “I'm dry,” Priscilla fired back. “Should be good until bedtime.” “It's been almost three hours since Tippi changed me,” Ian pointed out, “so I'm due.” “Then into the nursery with you both. Prissy, lose the uniform and put on something loose and comfortable. I'll be checking your diaper periodically, and if you give me any lip I'll put you straight over my knee. Got it?” “Yes, Mommy,” Priscilla coughed. She loved the bossy side of Francie's personality. “Strip down to your onesie, Ian. After I remove it, hop up on the changing table and we'll get you cleaned up. What's on the menu for dinner?” “A dish that's perfect for cold winter nights … potato and corn chowder served with sourdough bread toasted and spread with apple butter. It's been warming in the crockpot all day!” “Ohhh,” Francie moaned, “it sounds heavenly. And for dessert?” “Another round of mango and sticky rice. Pris and I did a little shopping on the way home, so it will be fresh.” “I may never eat out again,” Francie went on; “why bother when the best cook in the Twin Cities is right here at home!” Ian smiled at that. He took pride in his culinary skills. “Okay, turn around so that I can unsnap your onesie.” Ian hastened to obey. The onesie had a tricky clasp in the rear that made it impossible for him to remove the garment, but it was child's play for Tippi and Francie. He knew that in Francine's eyes he was just an overgrown baby now assigned permanently to her care, but he didn't mind the way he was being treated at all. Francine had the same maternal touch that a couple of the nurses at Yokosuka had displayed, and their kindness had helped him get through some very long days and nights. “The breast milk is really doing its job,” Francie crowed as she unpinned his diaper and took a look. “How many dirty diapers have there been today?” “Five so far, including this one.” “So, two for me to tackle, and three for Tippi. But cleanup's a breeze because your poop is so soft and runny. Taking care of you is like taking care of a three month old … well, almost. Infants aren't quite this well endowed,” she grinned as she unlocked the chastity cage and ran a wet wipe up and down his penis. Ian began instantly to respond. “That's it, baby,” Francie whispered as she began to play with him. “I want you to be nice and stiff so that I don't miss any of the poop that gets into the folds of your skin. We're going to bed early tonight, and we are going to make love until your seed is deep inside me. But we'll take our time because I'm greedy and I want to cum over and over again. Your tongue and your cock are mine!” In a matter of seconds, Ian was fully erect. It had been that way ever since Sarah had caged him. It was as if his cock knew that its freedom would be short lived, so there was no time to waste. “Such a good baby,” she whispered anew before she bent over to take him in her mouth. She began systematically working her way up and down his shaft, reveling in the moans with which he rewarded her. Ian's hands had become clenched fists and he was lightly pounding the well padded surface of the changing table. Francine was edging him but she didn't want him to cum. This was just a warm up for the evening ahead. Reaching up, she pinched his nipples hard. Priscilla would be wearing locking nipple clamps when she went to sleep, and Francie wanted to lock Ian up as well, but Mommy Sarah had not yet given her permission to do so. Sarah had adopted a 'wait and see' attitude; she was using Pris as a guinea pig, and if everything went well, then and only then would it be Ian's turn. Pulling away from Ian's cock, Francie stood upright and stared down at him. Suddenly, she plunged her tongue into his mouth, a savage kiss that marked him as her property. Driving the point home, she reached out to grip his erection and squeeze hard. In a matter of seconds, much to her satisfaction, his penis began to deflate. “I own you,” she said in a husky voice, “I can give you pleasure, but I can also take it away. This was just a demonstration of my power. Now, let's get you dressed and go see about dinner. I'm hungry.” Ian looked up at her but remained silent. He had no illusions about this relationship. In the nursery, Francine was a dominant and he was her sub. She was an incredibly demanding lover, but also a very talented one. He looked forward to pleasuring her and satisfying her many demands. . . . . Pulling into the parking lot at The Pirate's Roost, Hollie Knightley braked to a halt. There were two rows of vehicles, one facing the building and the other overlooking the highway. The lot was about half full, and most of the vehicles were pickups. Slowly cruising the aisle, she smiled to herself as she checked off the license plates. Russ Carmody and his friends were out in force. Her smile got even broader when she spotted Dana's bright yellow Bug parked near the entrance. It was good to know that Dana was already working the room. Walking in, Hollie headed straight for the bar. She knew that Jerry Costanza had talked with the bartender the night before, but she wanted to make sure that he was good with the program. “Dick Moeller,” he said by way of introduction. “If I remember right, you like your gin and tonic with a lemon peel.” “You have a good memory,” she complimented him. “I take it that you and Jerry had a chat?” “Yeah. Friday night you want the lights turned up, and the three of us pitch our tents down at this end of the bar. Not a problem, but they'll be a band on stage, and you probably won't be the only one taking pictures. Maureen and Lana aren't camera shy, and they like to buy a round for the band. Best chance for close ups is when the band goes on break and comes down to thank them.” Dick pointed at a row of photographs hanging above the long mirror behind the bar. “Country and western and light rock play well here. We leave the heavy metal crap to the night clubs downtown. We don't cater to the teeny bopper set.” “That's a relief,” Hollie sighed as she took a sip of the drink Dick had set out in front of her. “You see Dana over there … the one in the orange hot pants?” “Can't miss her,” he laughed. “She'll come in with me on Friday night. Jerry will come in first with Lana and Maureen, make it obvious that he's their pimp. Dana and I will come straight up to Jerry, and you'll join us. Keep your arms in motion, shaking 007's vodka martini or whatever. The three of you will have to give me cover to get my camera dialed in. I want to get some snaps from here before I head for the stage. When Dana and I move in to join Lana and Maureen, I'll continue shooting the band, and try and get closeups of our targets. Once it's game on, we'll have to play it by ear.” “Should work, but I'd suggest that at some point you come back to the bar and leave your camera with Jerry. If there's any trouble, you don't want it to get smashed.” “Do you expect trouble?” “We always expect trouble. Most of the time nothing happens, but we don't have pool tables on this floor for a reason. Makes Jake's life a lot easier, knowing that he's not going to have a pool cue shoved down his throat.” “Jake being the bouncer?” “Jake being the bouncer,” Dick agreed. “He'll also be down at this end of the bar, drinking coffee … black.” “Can't wait,” Hollie grinned. “Make my drinks weak, starting tonight.” Picking up her gin and tonic, Hollie wandered over to renew her acquaintance with Russ Carmody. It was time to earn her keep, and if these guys were heading out to sea for the next three weeks, they should be easy pickings. “Hey, guys, look who's joining the party!” Russ Carmody was grinning from ear to ear; Hollie Knightley had been worth every penny of the three hundred bucks he laid out for her services. “Hi, handsome,” she cheerfully replied. “Thought you'd be plying your trade on one of those yachts anchored off Santa Barbara,” he teased. “Business slows down at mid-week, so I thought I'd drive down … check out the action. Besides, I wanted to talk with you.” “'Bout what?” “You guys work on the side? My next door neighbor wants a new driveway, but he's gagging on the quotes he's getting when his fingers do the walking. I thought you might offer him a better deal.” “Sorry, no can do. The union would be all over us in a New York minute.” “Yeah, I forgot about that.” In reality, it had only taken Jerry Costanza a few phone calls to confirm that Carmody wasn't paying union dues to any of the locals along the coast. Whatever he was up to, it wasn't pouring concrete. Hollie liked Russ. He was a smooth talker, and well behaved. He was good in bed, and had even bought her breakfast come the morning. But every child born and raised in Texas learned about the “gentleman outlaw” at school. There was Johnny Ringo, the well educated killer known to quote Shakespearean sonnets to his victims as he murdered them. But Hollie's personal favorite was John Wesley Hardin, the preacher's son, who proudly told any and all that he had sent more than fifty men to their graves en route to becoming a lawyer. Well dressed, well behaved rogues were everywhere, and personal experience had taught Hollie and her friends never to trust them. If you were on the game, you demanded payment up front. “So, when are you heading back to the salt mine?” “We set sail on Friday morning.” “Sail? How can you sail to a construction site?” “Haven't you heard? Five of the islands are being turned into a national park; it'll open to the public in March. We're one of two crews putting in the infrastructure … visitors centers, toilets … the usual stuff. We'll be out there for three weeks-- camping out, working double shifts. Even got to bag up all our garbage and bring it back with us. The National Park Service won't allow trash cans anywhere!” Oh, shit. Could these guys be on the level after all? Why didn't Warren or Ralph say something on Sunday night? Warren is an ex-cop; he's got to know what's going on, and he says there's nothing, a big fat goose egg. And would the federal government use nonunion labor … with a Democrat in the White House? Fuck it. Jerry can figure it out ... “So, where do you leave your truck?” “Oh, one of the guys coming in will drive it to a lot that we all use. We switch the vehicles around, just like we switch our hotel rooms ...” “And we get fresh meat every three weeks,” Maureen giggled; “well paid meat. They've got to spend their paychecks somewhere; might as well be on us.” “Booze and broads,” Carl snorted. “Just like Bangkok in the old days … hey, you guys remember the one who shot darts out of her cunt? She'd pop a balloon from ten yards away. Never missed.” “I settled for blow jobs,” Jack confessed. “Those girls had every STD known to man, and a few of their own invention. Fuck one of them, and there was a good chance your dick would fall off.” “That's why we make you use rubbers,” Dana laughed. “We don't want what you guys brought back from R&R.” “Hey, I'm clean,” Jack boasted. “Screw the rubber. I'll pay you an extra hundred to ride bareback.” He was leering at Dana, whose orange hot pants really turned him on. “Not going to happen.” Dana was being blunt. Never bending the rules cost her a few customers every year, but it also kept her out of Doctors offices. Jerry was good with it, and in the final analysis he was the only guy she needed to please. “Three hundred works for me,” Russ commented as he slid six fifty dollar bills over to Hollie. “All I want is a repeat performance.” “You've got it,” she smiled as she scooped the bills into her purse. She loved it when the johns shelled out fifties because the Outfit took half, Jerry got one bill, and she pocketed the other two. Of course, any tips were hers and hers alone. “We'll leave whenever you're ready.” “How about right now,” he suggested.

WELCOME ABOARD, BRENDA LEE “Well, I guess I should call this meeting to order,” Emily Carlson remarked as she lightly rapped her knuckles on the tabletop. She had a gavel, but chose never to use it. “The meeting has been called to order,” she intoned, “at four PM on Tuesday, the eleventh of December, 1979, at the Zeta Alpha Pi sorority house. The Members of the Board in attendance are Patricia Calvert, Jennifer Hobson, Marilyn Marsden and Nadine Vernon. Council President Cindy Carlson is here to represent the current membership, and Tippi Bjornsen continues to act as our Secretary. You have all received a copy of the minutes from our last session; absent discussion, I will rule the minutes to be approved as submitted.” Emily glanced briefly at the other Board members before ruling the minutes approved. “As we have a quorum, we shall now proceed to new business. First, I would like to introduce Brenda Lee, whose application to pledge the sorority next term has been approved by the Council. Welcome, Brenda; we are honored to have you join us.” “Thank you, Missus Carlson … and let me thank everyone for not humming Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. At this time of the year, I get that everywhere I go.” “I take it you're a bedwetter,” Jennifer asked. “That's right, and there are people in my dorm who give me a hard time about it. I thought that I would be happier here, and my parents agreed, so coming up with the extra money for the sorority turned out to be an easy sell.” “Wait until we put you to work,” Cindy merrily pointed out. “Our resident bedwetters all pitch in to help Missus Miller change our criminal element. Things get a bit hectic around here after breakfast and the ten PM snack break.” “Happy to do my part,” Brenda smiled. “And we have two very special guests with us today, Officer Priscilla Canon of the campus police department, affectionately known to all as the Batgirl, and Professor Ian Grady, the faculty advisor to the Panhellenic Council. However, today he is here because in a very real sense he has become our sorority's Dad even as he becomes Bernice's adoptive son.” “It should also be noted that Ian is my client,” Marilyn cut in. “He has already been informally interviewed by Emily's husband, and he will be making the rounds hat in hand on Thursday night … one of those corporate affairs that goes with guiding the Panhellenic Council.” Ian smiled at the three ladies he was meeting for the first time. “Professor, we are all in your debt … profoundly so.” Patricia inclined her head in a show of respect. “You saved this sorority when it was teetering on the edge of disaster.” “Here, here,” the other board members murmured. “The house has recovered nicely,” Ian observed in return. “New members are lifting your GPA, and Cindy and Tippi are only two of the girls who are growing right before our eyes as a result of taking on assignments at the hospital. Some of the girls have even found ways to turn the diapers into a positive.” Ian grinned at Cindy, waiting for her to jump out of her chair and parade he well endowed rear end in front of the whole assembly. He was a bit disappointed when she refused to take the bait. “Now to the main item on the agenda,” Emily said as she resumed control of the gathering. “Cindy has a proposal to set before us for the end of term party.” “Thanks, Mom. Because Scheherazade turned a tidy profit for the program, the Theater Arts faculty are running with my suggestion that we stage Caberet in the Spring. I'll play the female lead, and Stan Carmichael over at the Lamda house will be one of my co-stars. We've been going to Moby's to perfect a dance routine for a live appearance on American Bandstand, and if it gets by the TV censors we plan to use it in the Spring as well. Now we want to work on staging … costumes, props, music, that sort of thing. The dining room has the space we need, so we'd like to host a formal event straight out of The Great Gatsby at term's end-- the ladies dressed in evening gowns and shimmy dresses, the gentlemen in tuxedos. Instead of hiring a band, I'll ask the Music Department to put one together for us … one that we're going to need in the Spring to play dance tunes straight out of the Roaring Twenties. So, the party would be like a dress rehearsal. In fact, I'd like to invite Professor Osgood to come over and give us some ideas on how we can turn the dining room into a makeshift stage.” “I have it on good authority,” Ian smiled, that Caberet is going to draw talent scouts from Hollywood, so I think we should run with Cindy's idea. I'll visit the frat houses and sell the boys on wearing tuxedos, but it might be a good idea for someone to go around the shops that sell or rent formal wear and let them know what's happening. We have no idea how many other events are in the planning stage; it would be embarrassing to have this blow up in our faces because there aren't enough tuxedos or shimmy dresses out there.” “Good point,” Emily conceded. “If we go with Cindy's idea, I'll phone Yesterday's News and pin down the shimmy dresses.” “I'll tackle the formal wear shops,” Nadine volunteered. “But if need be, the girls might be able to update their prom dresses.” “Some of us won't be able to slip them on,” Cindy giggled. This time, she did stand up and wiggle her heavily padded ass in order to stress the point. “No alcohol, right?” Priscilla thought Cindy's idea was terrific, but hard liquor had caused more than one party on Fraternity Row to spin out of control. “How about serving bowle,” Ian asked. Looking around the table it was clear that no one knew what he was talking about. “It's a traditional New Year's Eve German party drink. It's served in a punch bowl, and there are both alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions, but the alcoholic ones are so mild that it's often the first alcoholic drink served to children. You start with a dry white wine and add fresh fruit that has been marinated overnight in a mix of sugar, lemon, and the spices of your choice. Just before serving, you add a bottle of sparkling wine or champagne, very chilled. It's typically served in cups, complete with saucer and spoon. You can eat and drink to your heart's desire with little fear of falling down drunk.” “Champagne,” Cindy whispered; “I love champagne!” “Alcohol in the house?” Bernice was frowning; she had fought this battle many times over the years, and it always came down to the question of adult supervision. If the kids wanted to be left to themselves, she would never agree to allow alcohol to be served indoors in winter, or even outdoors in the summer. If there was alcohol involved, responsible adults would manage the punch bowl, and responsible adults was just a euphemism for parents. They would see to it that neither beer nor hard liquor would be in the picture. With more than fifty of these events in her rear view mirror, she had seen it go both ways. Still, since it was up to the Council to decide and Cindy headed the Council, there was little doubt in Bernice's mind how this particular vote would go. She would have to haul the punch bowls out of storage. “Does anyone have an alternative suggestion for us to consider?” It was obvious to Emily that they were going to adopt Cindy's proposal, but she did have to go through the motions. “Just the usual amendment,” Patricia quietly said. She had been on the Board for more than fifteen years. “Bowle sounds like just the ticket for a formal affair with a Roaring Twenties theme, but the Council must understand that alcohol, however served, comes with adult supervision. If you want an open bar, you will have to book something like The Crystal Ballroom.” “We understand,” Cindy agreed, “but can we invite some of our friends from the hospital? They're all adults ...” “And a few of them even behave responsibly,” Ian laughed. The gala that Cindy was planning had Vickie's name written all over it, and he suspected that Francine would also fit right in. “I'll ask for a show of hands,” Emily continued. “All those in favor of adopting Cindy's proposal, with the added stipulation that alcohol may be served only with adult supervision, and no beer or hard liquor will be permitted?” Emily raised her hand, as did everyone else on the Board. “So moved,” she finished. “Tippi, I'll mix a special batch for you and anyone else who wants to stay away from the alcohol. We start with a fruit juice, add the marinated fruit, then finish off with ginger ale to make it a bit fizzy. I like to mix peach nectar and white grape juice, but orange and pineapple juice is also a popular combination. Lots of ways to go; just tell me your preference.” “Dad, you amaze me,” Tippi burst out. “How do you know all this stuff?” “Oh, I guess because I've celebrated Christmas, New Year's and Easter in countries all over the world. Foreign travel does indeed broaden one's horizons.” “Bowle,” Emily mused. “I wonder how many more tidbits of useful information you keep squirreled away in that well traveled brain of yours. I'll say it again, Ian: we could make a fortune by opening a restaurant and serving up all these exotic dishes that you've learned how to cook. Every meal that you prepare is an adventure.” “Dad, I'm putting you in charge of food and drink for our party. When it has to be perfect, hire the best!” Cindy was smiling from ear to ear, genuinely happy that she was going to get the party of her dreams. She wanted to do her grandmother proud. . . . . “You and Suzie were awfully quiet last night, so quiet that Vickie and I had to use the baby monitor in Sarah's bedroom to make sure you were asleep before we came in. I take it that she's not a screamer?” The meeting adjourned, Ian and Priscilla had hung out at the sorority until rush hour had died down. They were now driving home. “She brought a very useful toy with her,” Ian laughed, “a rubber ball gag. We put it to good use on the floor of my office rather than brave the rush hour traffic. I think I'll spread a few around as Christmas presents.” “Vic could definitely use one, and Francie too,” Priscilla snickered. “But I'm not sure you want to give Sarah ideas.” “Pris, trust me, she's already up on the subject. Gags are a dime a dozen in the Psych ward.” “Well, watching Suzie feed you your bottles this morning warmed my heart. Suzie may be an acquired taste, but she is definitely growing on me.” “She's beautiful, intelligent, and stands up for the causes she believes in. I admire her, Pris, and I still don't understand why I haven't fallen in love with her.” “Wait. Be patient. I suspect that your feelings will blossom when she's carrying your child … your feelings for her and Francine both. Guys tend to melt at moments like that, and by nature you are very, very protective.” “Francine is a tigress, so I'm glad I have tonight off; I need to recharge my batteries. I just hope that I can give you my all come Thursday night.” “You let me worry about that.” Priscilla reached over to pat Ian's thigh, wanting to reassure him. He was on a schedule that would wear most men out, and she suspected that sooner or later there would be a night when he was unable to perform. She was frankly amazed that he was standing up to the rigors of communal sex so well. After all, Ian was no horny teenager. “I'm going to need a diaper change as soon as we get home,” Ian grumbled. “It's the damned breast milk; it runs right through me. Tippi changed me a little after three, and six is really pushing it. How's yours holding up?” “I'm fine. Missus Miller changed me at lunchtime, so I should be good until Francie gets me ready for bed. And Ian? Stop complaining about the breast milk. You aren't the one changing your messy diapers, and this diet is making the job a lot easier for the people who do change you. Besides, you don't really have any say in the matter. Sarah wants you to be nursed, so it's going to be the mainstay of your diet for years to come. And once we all start lactating, I take it for granted that you won't have any room for solid food with all of us feeding you. Just imagine … you are going to be sucking on our tits for several hours a day. A lot of guys would probably kill to change places with you.” “Pris, I'm not complaining about sucking on all these lovely tits. Heck, it's my favorite part of the day. And I don't mind being treated like a baby by Sarah and Francie because Vickie and I enjoy an adult relationship, and most of the time you and Rita also treat me like an adult. My life in this respect is well balanced. But right now I need a diaper change every three hours when I'm on my feet; a year from now, who knows? I could be down to once an hour. Poor Tippi.” “Tippi loves you, Ian, and she loves caring for you. You are fortunate to be in such loving hands. I'll say it again: a lot of guys would probably kill to change places with you.” “I don't want to trade places with anyone. But physically it feels like I'm regressing to early infancy. Do you remember when Sofia put those locking booties on me, the ones with the spikes that forced me to crawl around on my hands and knees like a real baby? I felt like I was staring at the future Sarah has planned out for me.” “You may get there somewhere in the distant future when your injuries catch up with you, but first we have to eliminate the bad guys, and then there's this little thing called being a daddy. You'll be pushing swings on the playground, reading stories at bedtime, then comes soccer practice and Little League. Oh, and did I mention that it's really hard to cook when you're crawling around on the floor? The day may come when you would welcome those booties … when crawling around on the floor would feel like a vacation right up there with laying on the beach soaking up some rays, but don't hold your breath. I can't see you getting off quite so easy.” “Pris, if you're trying to cheer me up, this is an odd way to go about it.” “That's Francine's job. Sarah will hang around the nursery just long enough to unlock your cage. Then Francine will find a creative way to change your diapee. And here we are,” she added as she pulled into the driveway. “Home at last!” . . . . “What do you think, Brenda? Does our kitchen pass the test?” Cindy had invited Brenda to have dinner at the table she shared with the other members of the Council. Brenda was the first bedwetter looking to escape the dorms, and Cindy was rolling out the welcome mat in the hopes that others would follow Brenda's lead. The sorority needed the dues, but the real payoff was the impact the new members were having on the house's GPA. It was now a low B, but bringing Marilyn and Brenda into the fold would only strengthen it. “Are you kidding me,” Brenda gushed. “Chicken Kiev for dinner with fresh zucchini? In the dorms, we're lucky to get chicken fingers and fries! This is incredible, and Missus Miller allows your boyfriends to eat with you. Incredible!” “When he's not on the road,” Kimberly pointed out, “Thug eats here almost every night. We don't charge him for the privilege, but we do have a contingency fund that has to be periodically replenished. Cindy's mom makes a noteworthy contribution every term ...” “And I toss in most of my pocket money,” Thug added. He was sitting directly opposite Kim. “Every month,” Cindy went on, “cook surprises us with a real treat … lobster or scallops, and in the summer fresh walleye straight out of the lake! But she shakes up the menu every week. Last Tuesday it was chicken cacciatore, and don't tell Missus Miller, but the wine really made the sauce pop. Same thing with the veal scallopini that we had earlier in the term. And you know what's really neat? If you want to learn how to make a dish, she'll teach you!” “Tippi wanted to do Swedish meatballs,” Melanie tossed out, “and next thing you know Tippi and cook put them on the table one night. Good eating!” “When I met Geri and Mikey in the Student Union, Geri told me straight out that Mikey is a bedwetter, and now he wears diapers all the time … wears them and uses them! I want a boyfriend like Mikey, someone I can keep in diapers and baby like Geri's doing. Have you asked around … tracked down any bedwetters in the frat houses?” “Tommy … Mikey's roommate? He needs diapers for his bedwetting.” Tippi frowned while she worked out how to explain things. “Tom … well, her real name is Laura but we all call her Tom … she's Tommy's boyfriend, and she's also trying to get him to give up the toilet. She got him to wear diapers to the movies, just like Jackie and Steph got their boyfriends to do. It's a trade off for sex, so I suppose the first question is whether you're sexually active.” “I am, but once it got out that I'm a bedwetter no one wanted to have anything to do with me. It was like I had the clap or something.” “Once you move in,” Cindy urged, “put every frat party on your calendar. But I strongly recommend that you wear one of our thick hospital diapers when you're partying. Heck, you might want to start wearing them all the time, even if you don't use them.” “O … kay, but why?” “Because you'll be sticking your ass in every guy's line of fire. You'll be pawed a lot! A thick diaper will make your sex appeal go through the roof. You can still focus on finding a submissive bedwetter like Mikey, but you might find that a lot of guys will wear a diaper to bed if that's the price they have to pay to sleep with you. Just remember that no boys are allowed upstairs in this house, so you want to zero in on the frats that allow girls to stay the night.” “I'll give you a list,” Melanie snickered. “Believe me, Brenda, even without the diapers most of us were in your situation when we moved in. So we've got a whole program in place to help you latch onto the frat guy of your dreams.” “O … kay, but how will I know when a guy is off limits?” “You can't poach any of your Sisters' boyfriends, but if you can steal a guy away from someone in another sorority, you earn bonus points!” “And don't forget the faculty,” Cindy laughed. “You need to get out there and earn your scalps. We have another list that will help you make progress there.” “You guys are incredible,” Brenda gushed. “I can't wait to move in!” “Spread the word around the other dorms,” Tippi urged. Like Cindy, she was looking ahead. “If you're a bedwetter and you've got a 3.5 GPA or higher, we want you!” . . . . “You behaved very well today, Mikey; I'm proud of you.” After dinner, Geri had drifted over to the Delta house to study in Mikey's room. This had become pretty much a nightly ritual, at the end of which Geri normally went back to the sorority to sleep. A couple of times a week, however, she stayed the night so that Mikey could nurse on her D cup breasts before they made love. The occasional spanking livened things up, but on the whole Mikey had proven to be a true submissive. “Are you staying over,” he asked hopefully. Mikey was happiest when Geri was cradling him in her arms and he was nursing at her tit. “I am,” she confirmed. “Do you want to undress me?” Dropping to his knees, Mikey removed her shoes before unbuckling her jeans and lowering them to her ankles. Geri sat on the edge of the bed so that he could pull them off, then stood up again. Her sweater was next, leaving Geri standing in her bra and panties. She turned around to make it easier for him to unfasten her bra, then turned back to face him, holding her enormous jugs in her hands. Mikey was literally licking his lips when Geri crawled into bed and slipped under the covers. “Lose your sweater and pants and come to Mommy, little one.” Geri spread her arms wide, and Mikey instantly obeyed. He was still wearing his diaper, vinyl pants and onesie, and they would stay on until Geri removed them. He had given her total control of his bodily functions. “Umm,” he moaned as she held him to her breast and he latched on. Soon, he hoped, Mommy would be producing milk, and he would be suckling several times a day. Soon. “You are such a good baby, and Mommy loves you very much. Do you know how much I love you?” Gently, Geri began patting Mikey's well diapered butt. It turned her on to know that she had thrown out all of his underwear, and that he would spend the rest of his life wearing thick diapers and pink baby pants and onesies. When they were married he would wear nothing else at home, unless she decided to substitute a frilly baby dress for his onesie. At home Mikey would be giving way to Michaela. He would become her little baby girl. “I wuv Mommy,” he stuttered, his lips refusing to let go of Geri's tit. Like a true baby, he had taken her breast fully into his mouth. He was in paradise. Geri continued patting his butt, but her strokes were becoming more forceful as she debated spanking him. She had no reason to do so, but their relationship had long since passed the point where she needed an excuse. If she wanted to spank him, she would spank him. He would submit, and he would not even ask for an explanation. Speaking out of turn would earn him a visit from Mister Holeywood, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. “Joyce has been teaching me about maintenance spankings, and I like the concept. From now on, you are going to be spanked once a week even if you behave like an angel. It won't be a punishment spanking, just a gentle reminder that Mommy is always watching and will know when you are naughty. Don't ever let me look inside your diaper and discover that you have been masturbating … and I check every time I change you. That would earn you the worst spanking you've ever had, and a chastity cage that would put a permanent end to your naughtiness. Eventually I am going to cage you anyway, but first I want you to prove that you have the self-discipline required to merit my trust. Do you, baby? Can Mommy trust you?” “Yeth, Mommy,” Mikey stuttered again. “Good baby; wuv Mommy.” Geri moved Mikey to her other breast, then settled more deeply into the pillows to enjoy the moment. The more she nursed, the more sensitive her breasts were becoming. She had read that a woman could achieve a deep orgasm without clitoral stimulation once her breasts were fully engorged. The breast pump that she was going to buy when she ventured out to the mall on Saturday morning would speed up the process, and once it had run its course she might be able to cage Mikey permanently. Offering him the promise of an orgasm but never letting him get there would keep their relationship on the razor's edge. Periodic prostate massages would keep him healthy, and milking him would give her the sperm she needed to have children. In time, she would have very little need of his cock, and Michaela would have no need at all.

Hollie and Johnny have big parts to play in upcoming scenes. Still debating whether to have one or both sit down with Anthony Spilotro (Joe Pesci's character in Casino) or just refer to him in passing.

Great idea. Going to run with it. Been wondering how to bring Gwen into the story.

Thanks for pointing this out. Guarantee you that Hollie will prosper in this story.

Thanks, guys, you've both got it right. Great point about shooting out of a moving vehicle, though being in the right seat didn't help the assassin at the end of the John Wayne flick Brannigan.

Looking ahead, Mikey's room at the frat may get a bit crowded, especially if Tommy and Laura are also there. How many diapers will Brenda get to change? Time will tell.

Quickie historical quiz: In Japan, as in Great Britain, cars drive on the left, with the driver seated on the right. There is a historical explanation for this. Marilyn knows it. Do you?

I lived in Japan in 1975, and have been back dozens of times over the years. Beautiful country, rich culture, great food, and really friendly people if you respect their traditions. And baseball is a real treat!

Thank you. This story has always been about Ian's search for his daughter, which is obviously heading to a very violent conclusion. For sure none of the bad guys are going to end up in diapers.