[AARDVARK, PLATYPUS, AND TWINKLETOES: ATTORNEYS AT LAW (SCENE 10: INTERMISSION) READ SECOND]

DESTINY'S CHILD

Janis felt like the proverbial fish out of water. Since she was already a volunteer with regular hours at the hospital, there was no need for her to sit down and fill out an application form. This left her standing alone while her sisters scribbled away, many of them desperately trying to recall the courses that they had signed up for in the winter term, and the hours to which they were already committed.

The morning's events had also left her dazed. Incredibly, her “day in court” had gone just the way Professor Grady had promised it would go. Forty of her sisters would now be volunteering as candy stripers for six hours a week until they graduated. The house had to get its grade point average up and keep it up, and if they could do so over the long haul, their records would be expunged when their probation ended. And after having a private chat with the gangster who owned the diaper service, Professor Grady had assured them that they were no longer in any danger of being fed into a wood chipper.

A bus had magically materialized at the back of the courthouse, and having kept them away from the press, the Professor had brought them to the hospital to put in their applications-- and to be locked into their diapers.

Janis grimaced. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that she had lost her toilet privileges, and would be peeing and pooping into a diaper until she graduated years in the future. A diaper service truck would be pulling into the sorority's driveway every week, a humiliation that would only stop when Tippi Bjornsen, their first year Legacy, earned her diploma.

Will I lose my bladder and bowel control before this is all over? Am I going to end up in diapers for the rest of my life? And how am I going to pay for the diaper service? I don't have near enough in the bank, so the money will have to come from my parents …

Will they disown me? And what about dating? Will anyone be desperate enough to date a girl who's locked into a diaper? Seriously? I'm not like Kimberly … our very own “Fraulein D Cup!”

Looking around the vast cafeteria, Janis was thankful that there were so few visitors at mid-morning, and doubly thankful that she didn't recognize any of the doctors and nurses enjoying their coffee breaks. Her shift didn't start until three, and when she could manage a break and come down in search of a Tab, it was always closer to five.

She watched quietly as the Professor left the room in the company of Officer Canon and two more members of the staff, whom she did not recognize. It seemed likely, however, that they were all headed for the Psych ward up on Seven-- notoriously, the Professor's home away from home.

“Janis?”

Snapping out of her reverie, Janis looked at Marcia Mason, who was holding a folded slip of paper in her outstretched hand.

“I want you to go up to Seven,” the first shift charge nurse ordered, “and ask to speak with Doctor Stevenson in the Psych ward. When they admit you, give her this note, and Rita will take it from there.”

“Do you think that I'm crazy,” Janis whimpered. “Just because I stole some diapers ...”

“Well, you did put one on, complete with a pair of baby pants. But no, I most certainly do not think that you're crazy! A little too curious for your own good, perhaps, but in the broad scheme of things, about as sane as the rest of us. Still, if you're having problems … emotional difficulties … Rita is an old hand. She's not judgmental, and she's a good listener. If you talk freely with her, she can help you put things in perspective.”

Note in hand, head bowed, Janis shuffled slowly out of the cafeteria. In her imagination, there was little to choose between the walk to the elevator, and a walk to the gallows.

Her unease increased tenfold when she stole a peek at the note's contents.

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

. . . .

“And you are?”

“Tippi Anne ...”

“Bjornsen. Yes, I see … just turned nineteen … first year student ... from New Ulm.”

Gayle Soderberg looked up from the application form in surprise. The Patient Relations administrator had put in more than five years running the hospital's candy striper program, and she took pride in selecting quality candidates-- young women with a spring in their step and a smile on their faces … young women whose boundless optimism and cheerful demeanor would brighten, if only for a moment, the lives of patients and their families in the surgical wards.

Tippi Anne Bjornsen was the first applicant in her tenure to have been convicted of a criminal offense. She had pleaded guilty to a DWI a few months earlier, and the terms of her probation required her to remain alcohol and drug free until her twenty-first birthday.

“Looking at the date,” Gayle commented with a reasonably straight face, “I'm guessing that you attended one too many high school graduation parties. The drinking got out of hand, you got behind the wheel, and you got pulled over for speeding or driving on the wrong side of the road. Does that about sum it up?”

Tippi nodded in agreement. “I was smashed. I started with vodka, then progressed to gin, tequila, scotch, and rum. I spent the next forty eight hours mostly throwing up. Before they let me go, the police gave me a bucket and a mop, and stood over me while I scrubbed the floor of my cell. Lesson learned. I haven't touched alcohol since.”

“This was late on a Friday night. Didn't your parents bail you out?”

“No. They raised me to take responsibility for my actions. I didn't get out of jail until Monday morning, when I went to court.”

“Where you pled guilty. And this morning you pled guilty again, this time for theft. Diapers, no less!”

Gayle leaned back in her chair, and studied the young woman opposite her. Tippi Bjornsen was tall and predictably blonde, but unnaturally thin. She looks like a light breeze would lift her off her feet!

Well, the one thing she won't have to contend with inside these walls is a stiff headwind …

“Janis tells me that you're the brains behind this bizarre stunt. Well, I have to give you credit: this is the most creative Fraternity Row has been in many a year. But is the notoriety worth the price that you're paying? You'll have to explain this to your parents, and you're going to spend the next three and a half years wearing diapers-- wearing them and using them. No toilet privileges whatsoever. And Tippi, our diapers are thick and impossible to conceal. Even a flared skirt won't hide the bulge. On campus, you are going to be the butt of a lot of sick jokes. Was it worth it?”

“I think so, but only because of Professor Grady … because of what he did last night, and again in court this morning, and now here. There's the family you're born into, and the family you choose. He's taught us all the meaning of family, got us to understand that we're more than a bunch of girls living under the same roof. We care for one another, and going forward we'll be there for one another. How do you put a price tag on something like that?”

“You don't,” Gayle agreed. “And it says a great deal about you … about all of you … that you have found a way to turn a bad experience into a rewarding one. Now, I see that you have not entered the hours at which you would be available; how flexible are you?”

“I want to work with one person on the staff here … Professor Grady's fiancee. I'll arrange my class schedule to fit her needs.”

“You want to work with Sarah Haikonnen? In post-surgical care?” Gayle was floored. Even for full-time staff, the oncology and post-surgical wards were the most emotionally taxing in the building. Death and its imminence hung over the hallways like a darkened shroud.

“Good Lord! Why?”

“Because I missed it.” Tippi was resolute, and it showed in the jut of her jaw and the determination in her eyes.

“Missed what?” Gayle was absolutely mystified. To say that she had never met a late adolescent like Tippi Bjornsen was to put it very mildly indeed.

“When I spoke with him during his office hours, all I saw was the diapers. I never saw the man, and I couldn't understand how any woman would want to share her life with a cripple unless she was a loser herself. But Officer Canon isn't a loser, and she's so much in love that the word doesn't even begin to describe her. And then there are the doctors here who also love him. 'What's wrong with me'? That's what I keep asking myself. How can I be so completely blind to what others see almost instantly?”

“Don't beat yourself up, Tippi.” Gayle was shaking her head, remembering the heady days of her late teens, the highs and the lows, the triumphs and the setbacks. “When you put the last vestiges of childhood in your rear view mirror, you will begin to weigh your choices differently. It's all just a part of growing up.”

“Which is painful, and scary. I'm not ambitious. I don't want to set the world on fire. All I want is to find Mister Right, fall in love, get married, and have children. I'm a small town girl who wants to have a family. I want a good man to look at me the way Professor Grady looks at Officer Canon. I want a husband whose eyes melt when he looks at our children the way the Professor's eyes become so soft when he looks at us. And I'm greedy-- I want to find Mister Right without wading through an ocean of Mister Wrongs.”

“And you think that Sarah can help you to realize your dreams?”

Tippi nodded emphatically. “She knew that Professor Grady was Mister Right when she first met him … and yes, I know that love at first sight is supposed to be a myth. How? How did she see the man when all I saw was the diapers? I want her to teach me what to look for because I need help, and I'm not going to find the answers to my questions in a classroom.”

“No … no, you won't,” Gayle conceded. She didn't know Suzie Marshall, didn't know that the two of them were on the same crusade. Both were convinced that there came a point when a human could only learn from experience. Life was the ultimate teacher.

“Is she going to be all right,” Tippi asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Note in hand, Janis Marsden was leaving the cafeteria with her head bowed, broadcasting her guilt and shame to the world.

“Janis is so fragile ...”

“She'll be fine,” Gayle answered, and she meant it. “Oh, don't get me wrong; her coworkers are going to tease her, but it will be good-natured, not malicious. Tippi, since you're going to be working here, you need to think of this place as a village. We have our friendships and our rivalries, our likes and our dislikes, and I swear that gossip flows up and down the corridors like the tides. But when one of us needs help, we come together, in the way that families so often do.”

Coming to a decision, Gayle flipped Tippi's application form over, and began writing in the empty space at the bottom reserved for her comments.

Sarah, this young lady has expressed an interest in working with you, and I believe that it would be mutually beneficial for you to mentor her. She is one of the sorority girls involved in the diaper scandal, and will be with us until her graduation. Her plea agreement includes wearing and using diapers for the duration. Put her under lock and key; keep one key for yourself, and forward the other three to Professor Grady, who will share responsibility for her with Bernice Miller, the sorority house mother. With forty- one surrogate daughters, your fiance is going to be a very busy man! Gayle Soderberg.

Gayle folded the application, and slipped it into an envelope, which she addressed to Sarah. Directing Tippi to the bank of elevators that would usher her to Sarah's third floor domain, Gayle slipped her the envelope, wished her good luck, and sent her on her way. As another of the girls slid into the chair to take Tippi's place, Gayle watched the young woman walk away. Destiny's child, she thought; truly, this one is Destiny's child.

. . . .

Approaching the door to the Psych ward, Janis looked up at the camera, and with hand shaking reached out to ring the buzzer. In a matter of moments, the door buzzed to admit her. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Janis entered the Psych ward, but she almost jumped out of her skin when the door loudly shut behind her. She was now locked inside the one part of the hospital she had hoped never to visit, and she was acutely aware that she could not leave without permission.

. . . .

Standing quietly in the doorway, Tippi took a moment to examine the woman seated at the desk, head down, engrossed in some report or other. One of the few things that she knew about hospitals was how heavy the administrative workload was for the charge nurses. Sarah Haikonnen, she judged, was another natural blond, but with hair a somewhat darker shade than her own radiant crown. The Finnish blood line, she knew, was far more complex than her own purely Swedish roots.

Then she looked down at Sarah's chest, and what she saw took her breath away. Even with the crown jewels safely hidden away inside her bra and nurse's smock, it was obvious that the woman had been blessed by nature. Tippi's first thought was that the Professor had struck gold, and that their lovemaking must be off the charts if Sarah's tits were sensitive to the touch of his fingers and lips, to nibbling teeth and a questing tongue.

Involuntarily, Tippi's hand drifted up to her own chest, and not for the first time, she cursed her ill fortune. She was tall and thin, neither her breasts nor her hips what she wanted them to be. She wore a 32A, and knew that a training bra would have still got the job done even as she approached the end of adolescence. But training bras didn't turn the boys on, not that she had ever been able to compete with the cheerleader types anyway. She had mastered oral sex early and practiced it often, but on her eighteenth birthday, in the one way that mattered, she was still a virgin.

The first professor she had scalped was shocked to discover her hymen still intact. Only moments before, as his knowing fingers had unclasped the hooks on her bra … feeling the straps slide down her arms-- for the first time she had felt like a woman in the fullest sense of the term. But he had paused, and she had read the doubt in his eyes when he gently asked her if she was sure … really sure.

The question had hurled her back into little girlhood: yes, she was sure. He had been gentle and caring, and he had nibbled on her breasts, not at all discouraged by the smallness of her buds. And it had felt so good!! A wave of molten pleasure had flowed from her tits to her vagina, her clit gorging with blood, and he had made love to her, the giving and receiving of pleasure. Eric had ushered her into womanhood, but she was indebted to him above all for teaching her so clearly the difference between a boy and a man. Tippi was done with boys. She wanted a man, and she wanted Sarah to teach her how to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Who am I kidding, she mused. I want the Professor, but that means standing in line behind at least four other women, maybe more. So how do I cut the queue, as our British cousins would put it? Being diapered for umpteen years will put us in the same boat … can I use that? Get him to change my diapers?

No, wait! What if I can persuade his girlfriends to let me change HIS diapers when we're on campus? Surely the Batgirl will have to go back to doing whatever it is she normally does sometime soon. There's the opening! And since I'll be locked up, kept chaste, I won't pose a threat. I'm the logical choice!!

“Can I help you?”

Tippi snapped out of it, and looking up, saw that Sarah was steadily staring at her. Wow!! Sarah's eyes were large and luminous, an unusual shade somewhere between blue and green, but when she looked at you? Tippi felt like a deer trapped in the headlights. This was not a woman to be trifled with.

And there's something exotic about her features. Eskimo, maybe? Somewhere in her blood line …

“Um … hi,” Tippi stuttered. “Gayle Soderberg … uh … down in Patient Relations? She spent me up here. Here … she, uh, she wrote a note to explain what's going on.” Tippi held out the envelope, still unopened.

Without shifting her gaze, Sarah took the envelope and slit it open with a fingernail. Pausing only long enough to scan the contents, she went back to staring at Tippi while she thought about it.

“So, you're one of the diaper thieves who have been tormenting my fiance. What is this about Ian now having forty-one surrogate daughters?”

“He's … uh … kind of taken all of us who took part in this stunt under his wing. I mean, he's protecting us from the gangster, taking charge of our probation, and maybe the biggest thing of all … he's helping us to create a sense of family at the house. We have a house mom, and now I guess that we have a house dad, though no one knows quite how that's supposed to work.”

“It says here that I'm supposed to diaper you, and take away your toilet privileges. That's easily done; when you leave this office, you will be wearing one of our hospital diapers, which are very thick ...”

“Like the Professor's,” Tippi interrupted.

“One and the same,” Sarah agreed. You'll also be wearing vinyl baby pants, and a heavy canvas diaper cover with a lock that cannot be defeated. It looks like I'm personally to take charge of diapering you here at the hospital, but pass three of the four keys to your locking cover to Professor Grady and your house mom. Are you comfortable with having my fiance change your diapers when you're on campus?”

“No!!!” Tippi found it easy to feign shock. Somewhere in the future, she was looking forward to having Ian change her diapers, but not now! This would sink all of her plans, vague as they were.

“I mean … think of the damage to his reputation! That poor man … I don't want to do anything that would hurt him!”

“What year are you in?”

“First year.”

“So, you are going to be wearing diapers for the next three plus years, peeing and pooping … you do realize that your bladder and bowel control are going to slip badly, don't you? In fact, they may vanish altogether, leaving you incontinent and diaper dependent for the rest of your life. Are you mentally prepared for this?”

“I think so,” Tippi shrugged. “I mean, realistically, what choice do I have?”

“None whatsoever. Now, what's this about me mentoring you, and the arrangement being mutually beneficial?”

“When I visited your fiance during office hours, I was blind to everything except the diapers. I never even thought about him as a man, never gave him a chance. But you were totally different. You saw the man, not the diapers, and you saw his worth. It's the same with the Batgirl … er … Officer Canon. She changes him, cleans his messy bottom, but she's never lost sight of the man, and I think it's fair to say that she worships him. What was it that the two of you saw, and that I missed? I want to meet a guy like the Professor … fall in love … get married … have a family. I want you to teach me what to look for, so that I don't make this mistake again.”

“I see.” Sarah was absent mindedly drumming the desktop with her fingernails as she considered what Tippi was saying. “And how does taking you on as a candy striper benefit me?”

“When Officer Canon returns to her duties, you will need someone to change his diapers on campus. Who can you trust not to seduce him? Any one of us could do it because we'll all be wearing these diapers and locking covers-- just don't let Professor Grady anywhere near the keys! But I want to do it, and I'll be on hand for the next three and a half years. That's a long time in which you won't have to worry about him being unfaithful.”

“True … although there are other ways to insure his fidelity.” Sarah opened a desk drawer, and removed the chastity cage. She held it up for Tippi to inspect.

“Do you know what this is,” she asked.

Tippi shook her head. She had no idea what Sarah was holding in her hand.

“It's a male chastity cage,” Sarah declared; “the male version of the medieval chastity belt for women. This ring locks behind his testicles ... his flaccid penis is secured inside this very tiny sheath … you marry the two together and insert the lock … turn the key … and voila. Just like that, you have a forever faithful boyfriend or husband.”

“Wow!” Wide-eyed, Tippi held out her hand, and Sarah obligingly passed the steel cage over for her to examine.

“This is so neat,” she excitedly proclaimed before returning the cage to Sarah. “But are you sure that he'll wear it? Have you asked him?”

“Not yet, but I'm confident that he'll agree. Ian has a problem with self-control, and he admits it, so he'll see the wisdom of wearing this in order to make the problem go away. Still, you're right that I'll need someone on campus to change his diapers. I'll take you on in this department, but you will have to adjust your class schedule to give me three hours of your time, twice a week, between seven and three. Can you do that?”

“Yes. It won't be a problem.”

“Good, then let's get you diapered, and I'll inform Gayle that I'm taking you on. She'll set up orientation for all of you, give you a tutorial on the do's and don'ts, and with the preliminaries out of the way. I'll put you to work. Welcome aboard.”

Sarah held out her hand, and the two women shook. Then, without further ado, Sarah ordered Tippi to close the door and take off her clothes. She spread a changing mat on the floor, and silently directed the girl to lie down.

Tippi obeyed without a moment's hesitation.

Sarah paused to examine her new charge. Tall and slender, with boyish hips and childlike breasts, with a bit of work Tippi could easily pass for a boy in his mid to late teens.

Or add a pair of shortalls to her bulging diapers, put her hair up in pigtails, and she'd make an adorable toddler! Now, there's something to think about down the road!

Setting her fantasies aside for the moment, Sarah got down on the floor and went to work. Tippi raised her hips to welcome her diaper, and with it a heavy application of baby powder-- heavy enough, in fact, to make her smell like a newborn. Sarah efficiently pinned the diaper tightly in place; the vinyl pants came next, and then the diaper cover.

As it happened, she had collected it from stores at the start of her shift, her plan being to lock Ian up in a new cover to which she alone would have the keys. She wanted to deal Priscilla Canon out of the equation, and this was the fastest way to do it. And as an added bonus, she reasoned that long hours in a wet and messy and possibly leaky diaper would serve to remind her baby husband to be that she ruled the roost in their relationship, and that she was not above punishing him with a nasty diaper rash.

And if I pitch it as a way for him to get back to regular diaper changes, he's much more likely to welcome the cage. And how will he like having a barely nineteen year old babysitter? A babysitter he can't screw because she'll be trapped in a locking diaper of her own? Wonder if she'd like to babysit Vickie as well … now, that would be a sight!

Sarah left Tippi to finish getting dressed, knowing that it would be almost impossible for her to squeeze the mountain of cloth, vinyl and canvas that she was now wearing into her jeans. As the girl struggled, Sarah also knew that it would quickly occur to her that she would need to buy a new wardrobe to cover her bulging rear end.

The humiliation that Tippi would soon begin to suffer every time she went out in public sent a shiver down Sarah's spine.

Tippi was still struggling with her jeans when the telephone rang. Watching the girl, a triumphant smile on her lips, Sarah was in a very good mood when she picked up the receiver.

“Sarah, it's Rita. You need to get up here right now!”

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

Quickie movie history quiz:

The low budget, 1969 film EASY RIDER became an instant cult classic, and has lost none of its mystique over time.  Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda took their rides cross country, and one of their bikes has sold at auction for well over a million dollars!  Come on bikers!  One of you has to know what they were riding!  Was it a :

A. Honda CB 750

B. Harley-Davidson chopper

C. Triumph Trident

Did you know that the film opens with our heroes riding European dirt bikes?

[Wattpad looks likely to ban ABDL content soon]

2 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

Privacy. Most people do not want their embarrassing secrets out there. Many times sites/databases, even for companies like CapitalOne, AT&T, and others, get hacked, and their names, email addresses, driver's licenses, social security numbers, etc., get out

Makes sense.  I have also had a couple of accounts breached over the last couple of years.  Close the accounts, set up new ones with new passwords-- it's all a hassle.  It certainly could happen here, and it's easy to see why our AB/DL members would be skittish.  

[Wattpad looks likely to ban ABDL content soon]

9 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

In the US, Texas is one state that is making it mandatory that adult content be only allowed after checking ID is verified for age.

As an admittedly low tech person, I can only ask: is it difficult or expensive to install an ID, age verified firewall on a site like this?  I'm puzzled as to why this hasn't been done proactively.

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

On 4/29/2024 at 12:44 PM, kerry said:

Sarah (the budding sadist) has to go. Actually, they all should just leave Ian alone so he can be with the one he really loves, and the only one without an agenda of her own, Priscilla. Given Vickie's newfound masochism, I think that she, Sarah, and Rita would make a perfect little family unit

Thanks for a terrific comment.  We shall see in scene 57 (The Curtain Rises) how each of the ladies responds to the revelations about Ian's family.  The relationship between Vickie and Priscilla is going to be explored at length shortly thereafter.  Is Vickie a masochist, or does she just have a thing for spankings (which is commonplace)?  Much depends on whether you think she blames herself for the fact that her parents have effectively disowned her-- or perhaps it is she who has disowned them.  At this point in the story, I'll refrain from comment.  

[The Flower Girl]

Good closing chapter.  All 3 points of the resolution are covered, and using introspection for the reveal works well.  What I'm missing here is backstory.  How did so powerful a witch lose Rob in the first place?  This is where I would have gone with the second chapter.  As it stands, it reads like a fairy tale in which Cinderella/Snow White loses out to Evil Queen/Wicked Witch.  Flesh out the characters to go with the richly detailed plot, and you've got a winner here.

[The Flower Girl]

3 hours ago, MellowSadistic said:

Me: frantically editing the final part of the story so that there's any explanation at all

When you are writing fiction, there is an unwritten compact in play between the author and reader.  One of the expectations is that a story will have a resolution.  There are three parts here: 1) the central conflict must be resolved; 2) the characters require closure; 3) unless you are setting up a sequel, there can be no loose ends.  

This is the end game.  There are other rules in play both in the beginning and throughout.  For example, every character expressing a narrative POV has to be given a sufficient backstory to make the character's thoughts, words and actions seem plausible to the reader.

Don't be discouraged here.  I have read many screenplays in which the viewer is only allowed to see what's been going on at the very end.  Programs like Twilight Zone and Outer Limits did this quite frequently.  So keep writing, but know that you will only get better at this if you welcome criticism rather than shying away from it.  

[The Flower Girl]

11 minutes ago, ~Brian~ said:

I am not a Harry Potter Fan myself, but I know that there are people who are. 

Like every other aspect of the marketplace, the publishing industry researches the ebbs and flows of reader taste more or less nonstop.  What's known as the Harry Potter demographic has been carefully tracked for more than ten years now.  For example, a 2021 survey of the US market revealed that 48% of the 18-34 cohort had read at least one book in the series, with 32% reading the entire series.  A deeper dive revealed that females are measurably more loyal to the series than male readers.  However, once you get outside this demographic, the audience falls off on both sides.  Without isolating the 18-34 cohort, the survey showed that across all population groups the numbers fell off to 31% and 18%.

What Rowland did that captured the industry's attention is redefine the term "demographic."  Instead of fixing it (children / young teens / young adults / mature audience), Rowland aged her characters to keep them in line with the aging of her readership.  The result is a series spanning something like 80 languages with the greatest sales worldwide for a given series in the long history of publishing.  She has surpassed Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason series, and that is quite an accomplishment.  

[Any bikers planning on Sturgis this year?]

Trying to get a sense of how many bikers we've got in our community.  It turns out that some of us go to the rally in Sturgis, but how many hope to go this year?

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

4 hours ago, kerry said:

My husband and I happened to be in Sturgis during the rally several years ago (the year of the last eclipse, actually). It was certainly pretty amazing.

It would be great to know how many bikers we've got here, and how many have been to Sturgis at one time or another.  We were planning on retiring in Spearfish, but the flight of Californians to the Black Hills drove real estate prices to obscene levels.  Can't compete with all the equity built up over time around San Francisco Bay!

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

9 hours ago, CDfm said:

I have a close friend who owns a few houses in Sturgis and he not only rents out the houses, but he rents out square feet of yard space for camping during the Bike week.  That income alone more than pays for the properties. 

My better half's family own a ranch just outside Lead.  Her brother, who manages the property, does the same thing during the rally.  Spearfish Canyon is a nice ride.  

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

On 4/27/2024 at 1:36 PM, CDfm said:

Well it had its lighter side as well.

Did you enjoy the bit about the cycles?  I'm hoping that my better half and I aren't the only regulars in this forum to be spotted at Sturgis!

[After all, I asked for it.]

It's a promising story line, but AR is right about the paragraphs.  When there is no dialog and a chapter is pitched from a single point of view, the paragraphs can become unmanageable.  I broke the one AR references at "the first few sessions," then at "it got better."  You could also split it at "I later found out," although this one is negotiable.  Just keep in mind that, in general, stories favor short paragraphs, not long ones.

You can also tighten up the text and make it flow more freely.  For example, "the first few sessions" should read "the first few sessions with Thomas."  Then you can delete "which is the name of the therapist," which really makes a mess out of the sentence in which it is lodged.

Going forward, you have to decide whether to write from a single point of view, or give other characters such as the parents voices of their own.  Since this is your first go at this sort of thing, I'd recommend keeping it simple, at least in the beginning.  So, if you want more than one narrative point of view, you could give the next chapter over to the parents, and let them talk it over (dialogue) in the privacy of their bedroom.  This would also give you an opportunity to tell us more about them so that they are no longer generic "parents."  This opens the doorway, if you choose to go there, to writing later chapters with real interaction between your characters.

Writing is fun, but there is a pretty steep learning curve.  Don't get discouraged.  Keep at it, and you'll master the tricks of the trade in due course.  

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

When it is released, readers following both stories should jump to AARDVARK, scene 9 (DESTINY'S CHILD). 

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

IN LOCO PARENTIS

After Spats reentered the courtroom, Ian slowly counted to thirty before opening the door to the hallway. As he had expected, Judge Reynolds and the District Attorney were having a quiet conversation, with their prospects for reelection, he thought, the most likely topic under consideration.

“Is the circus in town,” Ian asked once they were back inside the judge's chambers.

“It could be worse … a couple of beat reporters for the local dailies, and one TV crew.”

The Judge had taken advantage of the break to dash off to the men's room, which gave him a chance to size up the press contingent waiting outside the courtroom. “Emmett Bailey of WPPP News is once more on the prowl.”

“That guy,” Ian groaned. “He was at the house last night, reporting live. Doesn't he ever sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked,” the DA snorted. Bailey was as pushy as he was ambitious, and he wasn't above sensationalizing a story.

“Anyway, is Spats on board?”

“He is,” Ian confirmed. “If it's possible, I'd like to avoid the press. The best way to tamp down on this story is to protect the girls' anonymity. Since there are eleven girls back at the house who haven't been charged with anything, the media can't broadcast everybody's name without inviting a lawsuit for defamation. So, is there a back way out of here? A loading dock would be good.”

“What do you have in mind?” Reynolds, like all of his colleagues, had used a trap door more than once to escape the press.

“I'll ask Chief Mischof if he can scrounge up a bus from the Athletic Department. We get the girls on board, and we make a run for it.”

“Let's get it done. My clerk has a phone Walt can use to make the call. Once we're set, Gareth will swallow his pride and introduce the diaper punishment. You get Bjornsen publicly to agree to it, I enter it in my order, and we all live to fight another day.”

. . . .

“Well, let's get you into one of these new diapers that Sarah bought yesterday, and see if they're as good as the salesperson says they are. You know the drill.”

Vickie got to her feet, closed Rita's office door to give them privacy, and then began to strip. She didn't stop until she was down to her bra.

Rita unlocked her diaper cover, and eased both the cover and vinyl pants down to her ankles. Vickie gingerly kicked them off before Rita inspected the thick, hospital diaper.

“Dry,” she announced. “I'll set it aside for tonight's festivities.”

Rita shifted around to examine Vickie's backside, and yelped in surprise.

“My God, Vic! Never mind the diaper rash … you're bright red! What did Sarah do to you?”

“She used one of her new toys on me … the paddle with the holes in it that she bought at Fantasy Island. It was the most painful spanking I've ever had, Rita, and believe me, I've had plenty of spankings!”

“Oh, I believe you. I just don't know what to do about it.”

“Nothing.”

“What? Nothing?” Rita couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Rita, I … I enjoyed it. I was so close to coming … just a few more strokes, but she stopped right when I was on the edge. I begged her to finish me off, but she refused … locked me up in the same damned diaper. Only I liked that, too. Pissing and shitting myself … having Mommy coo over me like a baby while she cleaned me up … I was in Heaven. And then again this morning ...”

Rita shook her head in despair. It was obvious that Vickie craved attention, and had discovered that being naughty would get her plenty of it. But if Sarah was a sadist only now coming out of the closet, this could get out of hand very quickly.

Not waiting for the command, Vickie dropped to the floor, and spread her legs.

“Rita, I'm so horny that I could scream. Please,” she whispered, “help me! Fingers … tongue … a cucumber … anything will do. Please!”

“You want me ...” Wide-eyed, stunned, for the second time in as many minutes Rita couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Vic, no! Not at the office; hell, not even at home!”

“My wand ...”

“No!! Absolutely not!! Vic, are you crazy? Do you want to get us both fired?”

Rita got down on the floor, and ordered Vickie to raise her hips so that the new diaper could be slid into place. Working hastily to put the nightmare behind her, Rita doused her diaper area with powder and worked it into her skin. As soon as she was finished, she pinned the diaper in place, then fetched Vickie's baby pants and cover. It was only when the lock clicked home that she could lean back, take a deep breath, and try to make sense of what had just happened.

“All right,” she said in a tone of voice that brooked no opposition. “First things first. Go to your locker, get your Wand, and bring it to me. If you have any other toys that you're using to masturbate on company time, bring those as well. The fun and games are over, Vic, maybe over for good.”

“But ...”

“No buts, and no whining! If you need to do a regression to get past all the crap that your parents dumped on you, fine. I'm good with Sarah being your Mommy, and I'm even good with being your Auntie. I'll change your shitty diapers, and I won't complain about it. I'll do my best to get Sarah to tone it down. And all I ask in return is that you store up all this sexual energy for the only person in this universe who's worthy of you, and that's Ian. Sarah and I can parent you, but we can't love you the way he does. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Rita, I understand.”

“Then get dressed, and go collect your things.”

Now that the crisis was past, Rita could afford to be gentle.

“Then we need to start earning our paychecks!”

“There's one more thing.” Vickie had stopped in the doorway.

Rita looked at her expectantly.

“We got a call late last night from one of the sorority houses. I don't know the details, but Ian was there, and he had another episode. Priscilla … the policewoman assigned to him was still on duty and dealt with it, but he never made it home.”

Rita slapped her desktop, which told Vickie that she had come to a decision. “I'll tell Manny to expedite the 'diaper your favorite nurse' auction. When all three of us can trigger the Princess Poopy Pants persona, I want him back in the ward. We are going to hit him from all sides, trigger an episode in a controlled environment, and see it through to the end … a breakthrough. We are not, repeat not, taking a ticking time bomb into our new household!!”

. . . .

When they reentered the courtroom, Ian walked straight to the railing that separated him from Walt Mischof. It took only a few seconds for Ian to make his request, and for the Chief to confirm that he could have a bus ready and waiting in less than half an hour.

While he was speaking on the phone, Ian rejoined Bernice and Priscilla, who were still hard at work trying to keep the girls calm. It was a daunting task.

“May I have everyone's attention,” Ian asked in a calm, confident and reassuring voice. “Tippi, when we resume the Judge is going to ask the District Attorney to continue, which is when your proposed diaper punishment will be brought up. Then Judge Reynolds will once again ask whether you are speaking for the whole group. Say 'yes', then agree to being diapered for the duration of your probation, and we are out of here. We'll go out the back way to avoid the press, and Chief Mischof is arranging for a bus to pick us all up.”

“You're coming with us?” Janis couldn't understand why the Professor was going to so much trouble to help them, but she was grateful nonetheless.

“Yes. The rest of us will gather our wits in the hospital cafeteria while you track down whoever is in charge of the candy stripers. Then we'll dot the proverbial I and cross the proverbial T, get you home in time for lunch, and me off to my next class.”

“And the gangster?”

“All taken care of, Janis. Don't bother looking over your shoulder because he won't be there.”

“But how?”

“Oh,” Ian smiled wistfully, “I made him an offer that he can't refuse!”

. . . .

“Okay,” Ian said when they got off the bus, “I'll take the lead since I actually know how to find the cafeteria in this maze. Priscilla, why don't you bring up the rear to make sure we don't lose any stragglers. Bernice, you should go with Janis, and help her sell our story to the relevant party.”

“How's your diaper holding up,” Priscilla whispered in return. “I've only got one spare in your bag, and we're running on empty at your office. We need to reload.”

Ian winced. In all the excitement, he had lost track, which was an invitation to disaster. Leaky diapers … blowouts … both meant public embarrassment. His vinyl pants and canvas cover could only take so much abuse before they would give up the fight.

“Sounds like we should pay Rita a visit. She's got diapers coming out of her ears, and now's as good a time as any for you to make her acquaintance. Once Bernice gets back and we have the girls settled, we'll sneak off.”

A party of forty young women trooping through the hospital hallways was, Ian suspected, quite a sight, but the cafeteria was the only place he could think of to park them. And people were stopping and staring. For their part, the girls all wondered how many of the people they were passing had put two and two together, and realized that they were now face to face with the infamous diaper thieves who had been plastered all over the late night news only twelve hours earlier.

Happily, at mid morning the cafeteria had few patrons, so Ian had no trouble commandeering two of the long trestle tables that dominated the room.

While the girls sorted themselves out, Ian took Priscilla to the side. “Got any money on you?”

“Some. Why?”

“They had a bad night and a not so good morning. The least we can do is buy them all something to drink to soften the blow.”

“Meaning?”

“They don't know it yet, but they're going to be wearing the same hospital diaper that I'm sporting. That's part of the deal I made with Spats-- he gets to grow his inventory, and the girls will be paying for it.”

“But they won't be able to hide what they're wearing ...”

“No, they won't. The seniors are looking at six months or so, but there are first and second year students in this bunch who have two and a half to three and a half years of humiliation ahead of them.”

“With no time off during the summer. Ian, what about their parents? The only way to make sure that they remain diapered is to use the same locking cover that you have on. Would you trust a parent with the keys?”

“No. Bernice will change them morning and night, so she will need to have keys. We'll know in a few minutes whether it's feasible for them to be changed here during their shifts, but I can't figure out how to change them on campus. It's a big school, and they're attending classes all over the place. So, we're talking a lot of diaper pails; where do we put them? Who would be willing to change them, and can we trust that person with the keys? On paper it all looks pretty cut and dried, but this is real life, and in real life it's a safe bet that all of these girls will also be looking for a way to cheat. We have to nip that in the bud.”

“This is what happens when you don't pay attention,” Priscilla laughed sympathetically.

“Meaning?”

“The DA and the Judge ran for the hills, Ian, leaving you hung out to dry.”

Priscilla was rummaging around in her bag, searching for her wallet. “Twenty-eight dollars,” she announced.

“And I've got seventeen.” It didn't take Ian long to paw through his wallet.

“While you were daydreaming,” Priscilla continued, “the Judge issued a decree making you personally responsible for cleaning up this mess. An officer of the court will be dropping in on you next week, with the official paperwork. Congratulations! You now have forty one surrogate daughters!”

“Huh? Wait a second. Won't they have probation officers?”

“They will,” Priscilla agreed. “And guess who's responsible for making sure that each and every one of them keeps their appointments!”

“But ...”

“Ian? What are you doing here?”

Startled, Ian spun around, his stance shifting to attack mode. Then, making a conscious effort to relax, he stood fully upright.

“Becky! Hi! And Reiko. Wow … it's good to see you both! But I'm surprised; isn't this your shift?”

“It is. Mornings are set aside for groups. Vickie takes the alcoholics, Candy gets the abused women, and Reiko and I split the hopelessly neurotic. We rack up a lot of overtime at Chuck E. Cheese.”

Becky and Reiko were both looking at Priscilla.

“Sorry,” Ian said; “I just got sucker punched, so I'm a little out of it. Pris, say hi to Becky and Reiko, who work upstairs in the psych ward. Vickie is mentoring them both.”

“Priscilla Canon, campus police department.”

Priscilla held out her hand, and the three women briefly shook.

“Technically, I'm Ian's bodyguard, keeping those pesky corporate headhunters at bay, but it feels more like I'm his nursemaid.”

“Changing his diapers, are you?" Becky and Reiko exchanged knowing grins.

“Routinely,” Priscilla grinned in return. “And it's a fun job. Ian knows a really colorful cast of characters, and slowly but surely, I'm making their acquaintance.”

“And these are the diaper thieves.” Becky gestured at the girls. “What, if you capture them, you get to keep them?”

“He's stuck with them!” Priscilla was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. “The court … the judge has charged Ian to supervise them throughout their probation. Right now, we're trying to figure out how to see to their diapers.”

“Diapers? These girls?” Reiko was aghast.

“All forty one of them … 24/7 until they graduate! They wanted diapers; well, now they've got them! And they're going to use them!”

“What brings you down here?” Ian was desperate to change the subject.

“Coffee break,” Reiko shrugged. “It's an excuse to get out of the ward for a few minutes.”

“Got any spare change?”

“You need money?”

“I thought I'd buy the girls something to drink. They've had a rough morning ...”

“Spoken like a true parent, although forty one daughters is a ...”

Priscilla's eyes widened in shock, and involuntarily, she clamped a hand over her mouth. The enormity of her mistake …

“Oh, God! Ian, I'm sorry! I didn't mean … I was just teasing … please … I'm sorry!”

“Pris, it's okay.” Ian wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close, her head resting upon his shoulder. He forgot about Becky and Reiko, forgot about the girls, forgot about the handful of visitors, nurses and doctors scattered around the cafeteria. His one thought was for her.

Becky and Reiko were openly staring, trying to digest what they were witnessing. It was as obvious to them as to everyone else who happened to be watching that Ian and Priscilla were very much in love.

“It's getting easier, Pris; really. Knowing that it's all out in the open now … that I don't have to pretend anymore.”

He tenderly kissed the top of her head, enjoying the smell of her shampoo, enjoying the simple pleasure of holding her in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you ...”

. . . .

“This stinks to high heaven,” Herb Canon complained. “Honestly, Julia, why didn't you say something?”

“Walt's your friend; why didn't YOU say something?”

The Canons were in the parking ramp adjacent to the courthouse. The trunk lid of their car was up. The trunk was bulging with the two bags of diapers that Chief Mischof had ferried from the sorority house to the ramp, but they had never gotten any closer to the courthouse, and the rules of evidence be damned. The Canons ignored the bag of clean diapers-- and they were keeping their distance from the dirty ones.

“I don't remember Priscilla's diapers ever smelling this bad. Do you?”

“Well, in fairness to Ian, they have been lying around for the last couple of weeks. But stop complaining. You can walk to work from here, and I'll drive out to Lullaby and deliver them in person. After all, I did promise Pris that I would retrieve Ian's little toy … and no, I won't pass out before I get there. I'll keep the window rolled down.”

“It's your funeral,” Herb shrugged. “But here's something else to think about while you're rambling down the highway: who's going to change Grady's diapers and give him his bottles while Pris is at Quantico?”

“Ouch! Herb, that is downright nasty!”

“Come on, Julia, out with it! Has she asked you to do the honors in her absence?”

“Not yet,” Julia conceded.

“But any day now? Is that what I'm hearing you not saying?”

Julia slammed the trunk lid shut as her temper flared. “Damn it, Herb, we have got to come to terms with this. Priscilla is old enough to make her own choices; she's fallen in love with a battle scarred vet, and she has chosen to commit to this relationship. If you can look past the diapers ...”

“And the trauma,” Herb interrupted. He suspected that Ian was a loose cannon, and he did not want his daughter to be around when he blew up.

“For which he is being treated by a network of professionals who are giving him a strong support structure. And in so many ways they make the perfect couple ...”

“Couple? Get real, Julia! Our daughter is joining a menagerie that sounds like it's going to be one step shy of a hippie commune! Will our grandchildren, if we have them, nurse on four different sets of boobs? Will they grow up thinking they have four mommies? Julia, this in insane!”

“It's life, Herb, and often life doesn't make any sense. The only issue here is Priscilla's happiness, and right now she's happier than I've ever seen her in her whole life. Our job is to support her, and to make Ian feel welcome. We are going to do that.”

“So, if she asks … are you telling me that you would agree to change his diapers?”

“I would agree to talk with him about it. But seriously, Herb, what on earth makes you think that he would want me to be his nursemaid? You're getting all riled up about something that has about the same odds as a snowball in Hell!”

. . . .

“I'm good with this,” Ian said as he peeked over Priscilla's shoulder, his eyes jumping from one face to another as he systematically worked his way from the top of one table to the bottom of the next. It was slowly beginning to dawn on him that the two of them had taken center stage in a vast theater that offered no other entertainment.

“Being a surrogate parent, I mean. Do any of the sororities have dads?”

“No … don't think it's ever been done before.”

Priscilla leaned back to study him, and saw it instantly. It was in his eyes as he looked out at the girls, the sense of family, and she imagined that years earlier, a much younger man had looked upon those he led into battle with the same sense of affection. She knew all too well how much the death of Willie Ross had wounded him. And then his brothers-in-law. There must have been others.

“This is a tad awkward,” she whispered, thinking of Vickie.

“Have faith,” he whispered in return before kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“Any idea how much soft drinks for forty three is going to cost me?'” Ian decided to address the question to Reiko.

Reiko frowned as she quickly ran the numbers through her head. “Twenty five should cover it.”

“What's going on, Ian?” Becky made no attempt to conceal her anger.

“Give me a moment, please,”

Without waiting for an answer, Ian turned away and walked over to stand at the head of one of the tables. He waited patiently for the girls to give him their attention. “First things, first,” he began. “While I had the run of the judge's chambers, I phoned Janis' mother. In turn, Marilyn is reaching out to all of your parents, to assure them that you are safe. She is also letting them know that each of you is being hit with a twentyfive hundred dollar fine. Be ready for the subject to come up when you get back to the house and call home. As for the other elements of the Decree-- the community service, the diapers, and the probation-- I strongly advise you to be straightforward, and not to attempt to defend the indefensible. Admit that you screwed up, concede that your punishment is warranted, even lenient, and move on.”

Leaning on the table, Ian sighed deeply, searching for words. “Before Janis gets here and we get down to brass tacks, please get yourselves something to drink; Officer Canon and I will foot the bill. But first, there is something that I want to ask: does anyone here know what in loco parentis means?”

“Sure,” Cindy answered. “Everyone on Fraternity Row knows that our house moms and dads are looking after us the same way our parents do at home.”

“Well, as Priscilla … er … Officer Canon ...”

“Batgirl,” Kimberly called out.

“Is that what you call me,” Priscilla laughed.

“From one end of the Row to the other,” Melanie confirmed.

“Cool! Wait until you see the Batcycle! It's got all the bells and whistles!”

“A Honda CB 750,” Priscilla grinned when Ian gave her one of those looks. “What can I say? The family that rides together stays together. I never miss Sturgis!”

“Oh, wow, Sturgis,” Melanie shrieked. “I've got a Suzuki GT 750, but my parents won't let me ride it in the city, and they won't let me get anywhere near Sturgis. They're afraid that I'll join a motorcycle gang or something!”

“Get your GPA up,” Ian suggested, “and Priscilla might be persuaded to form a club for all you easy riders.”

“Are you offering us a bribe,” Kimberly teased.

“More like an incentive. Look, as I was about to say before being sidetracked, Priscilla says the Judge's decree is going to charge me with supervising your probation. So, now you have a surrogate mom in Missus Miller, and in me a surrogate dad. Going forward, if you're having problems with your studies, come see me. If I can't help you personally, I'll reach out to people who can, and that includes arranging tutors. I'll collect performance reports on your community service, and you better believe that your probation officers will examine them closely. As for your diapers, let me remind you that all of you are going to be paying customers of Lullaby Diaper Service, and the bill is going to be around seventy five a month. There's another conversation to plan on having with your parents if you aren't working and don't have savings. Finally, acting in loco parentis and keeping your individual schedules in mind, Bernice and I will figure out a way for each of you to have her diapers changed in a timely manner, and that includes on campus.”

“Any questions,” Ian asked as he scanned his audience. As he expected, his comments had taken the air out of the girls. There were long faces everywhere.

“In the beginning, this is going to be hard.” Looking up, Ian saw that Bernice and Janis had returned, along with a nurse and a second woman wearing a severe business suit.

“Some of the people you count as your friends will abandon you, but on the flip side, once the novelty wears off and your peers stop tormenting you, new friends will take their place. The one constant is that Bernice and I will always have your backs. We won't lose faith in you, and in return we ask only that you not lose faith in yourselves. Now, help yourselves to something to drink.”

While Janis scurried off to join her friends in line, Beatrice stepped forward to make the introductions.

“Officer Priscilla Canon of our campus police department and Professor Ian Grady,” Bernice nodded, “Marcia Mason, who is the first shift charge nurse in Janis' unit, and Gayle Soderberg, who administers Patient Relations. Her department reviews applicants for the candy striper program, with a view to finding the best fit for their experience and interests.”

“I should add,” Bernice went on, “that I have brought them up to speed on what's happening here.”

“Any interest,” Ian asked.

Gayle nodded in response. “Definitely, but I will tell you straight out that we're looking for candidates able to work three hour shifts between seven in the morning and two in the afternoon … also six to ten at night. High School and College students all want to work between two and six; those slots are filled.”

“Any objections to having staff change their diapers?”

Marcia's smile was warm and friendly. “It's an unusual request, but everything that Bernice has told us would seem bizarre if many of us had not caught the late night news. Talk about the punishment fitting the crime!”

“Glad you're good with it,” Ian grinned. “If it's at all possible, later this afternoon I'd like to get together with whoever does purchasing around here. Lullaby Diaper Service will need diapers, vinyl pants and locking diaper covers for forty one new customers.”

“We might have enough to get you started,” Gayle said. “One key for our staff, one for Bernice, and two for you. Will you be changing them personally?”

“Uh … no. I don't think my fiancee. Sarah Haikonnen up on the third floor, wants me anywhere around sorority girls in general, and definitely not changing their diapers in particular!”

“Perhaps it's for the best.” Gayle and Marcia exchanged sympathetic looks. “We caught the tail end of your address. If these young women need a father figure to serve as a role model, they are fortunate indeed to have someone this caring.”

“I just hope I don't go broke in the process,” Ian sheepishly replied, trying to find a way around the awkwardness of the moment. “Reiko says that their drinks will set me back around twenty five dollars.”

“Oh, don't worry about it!” Gayle waved him away. “I'll put it on my departmental tab; light refreshment to help the interview process along.”

“Thank you,” Ian sighed.

“Can you hold the fort for a little while,” Priscilla interrupted. “I need to refill Ian's diaper bag, so we're on our way up to Seven … to talk with Vickie and Rita.”

She gave Ian's arm an encouraging squeeze. The gesture's import was lost on none of the five women gathered round, and Bernice could see that one of the nurses standing behind Ian was seething. Long years of defusing angry confrontations had given her a sixth sense when it came to situations spinning out of control. This one was on the edge.

“Ian, while we were reluctant to infringe upon your privacy, you should know that Janis and I also told Marcia and Gayle what happened last night.” Bernice's voice became soft and maternal. “Last night at the house … this morning in the courtroom and now here … you have formed a deep, visible attachment to the girls. I don't want anyone to misinterpret what they're seeing, nor to misunderstand all this talk about changing their diapers.”

Bernice stared pointedly at Becky, praying that the message had gotten through to her. After they had put him to bed, Suzie had given her a colorful description of Ian's complicated love life, and it was obvious that this nurse was close to one or more of the women involved. She had been triggered by the interplay between the professor and the policewoman. As for the young Asian woman: her expression was stoic, but her body language tense. It was safe to assume that she was also upset by what she was seeing.

“Cracks in the wall,” Ian observed with a resigned sigh; “cracks in the wall.”

“Which means?”

“Bernice, I'm a patient here, up on the seventh floor … the psych ward. In fact, Reiko and Becky are on the team that is treating me.”

Belatedly, Ian realized that, when it came to introductions, he had not picked up where Beatrice had left off. “Sorry,” he said. “Bernice Miller, the sorority's house mom, and Reiko … I'm sorry again. I don't know either of your last names.”

“Doctor Reiko Matsumura, and my colleague and friend, Doctor Rebecca Cameron.” Reiko performed the introductions for both of them. (In reality. Ian was formally introduced to Reiko all the way back in scene 3, but the poor lad was far too drunk at the time to remember much of anything.)

“Vickie and Rita are going on the theory that I've constructed a wall inside my head to keep all the guilt that I tapped into last night at bay.”

Ian knew that neither Bernice, Gayle or Marcia grasped how bad last night had really gone.

“If I do something that my psyche sees as a threat to the wall, it short circuits the process by catapulting me back to my last battlefield. I relive what happened … every second of it … and I collapse, just like I did for real all those years ago.”

“So when you told the girls what happened to your family ...”

“I thought I was safe because yesterday I told Priscilla everything, including the really bad stuff that only two other people have heard at first hand. And it had no impact on me … maybe because it felt like I was talking about somebody else … talking in the third person.”

“'Bad' doesn't begin to describe what happened out there.” Priscilla warned. “I have been pushing Ian to sit down with Sarah, Vickie and Rita; they have to know what's going on … have to know that acting on their feelings for him will have consequences. There's a price to be paid, and I'm going to pay it … but I didn't sleep well last night, not well at all. I do not want him to describe what he learned once he got out of the hospital in any detail. What you heard last night is where I would draw the line.”

“You want him to withhold information that might be critical to his treatment,” Becky asked sharply.

“I would go there only as a matter of last resort.” Priscilla's tone was equally acerbic.

As the first of the girls exited the line, soft drink in hand, Gayle excused herself to begin the interview process. She had brought applications for the candy striper program, and as she handed out forms and pens to each girl in turn, she emphasized that she needed to know their class schedule for the following term.

Marcia watched the line slowly advance. She had two children of her own, one a girl in junior high. In a few years, she realized, her daughter might well become a candy striper in her own right, and stand in this very line once or twice a week. There were always a number of high school students in the program.

“Professor … no … Ian … who's taking the lead on your therapy?”

“Vickie.”

“And the two of you are madly in love.”

Marcia shot a sideways glance at Priscilla, wondering if Vic knew that she had been cast overboard.

“Vickie and I will work it out,” Priscilla smiled. She knew exactly what Marcia was thinking.

The line continued slowly to advance, and Becky and Reiko continued to hover in the background.

Nodding her head, Marcia came to a decision. Someone had to go first.

“Ian, Gayle and I … we both have children … daughters. The vast majority of the people in our age group working in this hospital have families. I'm not going to pretend that I understand your suffering because it's on a scale that I can't imagine, and frankly don't want to imagine. But I know two things, the first being that you are trapped inside every parent's deepest, darkest nightmare. And the second is that Becky is right; if you want to reclaim your life, you cannot pick and choose the information that you share with your therapist. If you insist on shielding her, then Vickie needs to step aside so that someone can take her place-- someone who can handle the worst that you can throw at them.”

“It's not that easy,” Ian grudgingly admitted.

“Why?”

“I have trust issues.”

“And cracks in the wall.”

Ian looked at her blankly. He didn't see the connection.

“You can't make good what you've lost by adopting every young woman in need of help who enters your life. You'll drown if you try … more and more seizures. If you truly want to help others, you must first help yourself, and that means baring your soul to your therapist. Guilt attaches itself to the ugliest of all our memories.”

Wendy Stafford, Priscilla thought. How many more Wendy Staffords are waiting out there? Her eyes swept over the line, and settled on Janis Marsden. The answer was staring her in the face.

“Wait … what,” Becky squeaked.

She looked at Reiko, thinking that she must have misunderstood what Marcia was saying, but she saw the same look of incomprehension on her friend's face that was no doubt plastered on her own.

“Are you saying that … that … Ian … that you have a daughter?”

Silently, Ian pulled out his wallet, and removed the photograph. No longer hidden away, it slid out easily. He handed it to Becky.

“My wife's name was Nguyen. When I was in the hospital, someone came to our village and slaughtered everyone except the babies and little children. They were taken, and have never resurfaced. We think that someone was looking for my child … for my daughter, Linh. But they didn't know which child was mine, so they took them all.”

“But … but, why? Dear God, why?”

“My gift for languages is rare in the extreme. More men have walked on the moon than can do what I do. If Linh has inherited this ability ...”

“Someone massacred an entire village to kidnap a child that might grow up with the ability to speak dozens of foreign languages?” Becky was thunderstruck.

“Ian, does Vickie know any of this? Vickie? Rita? Sarah?” Reiko got right to the point.

“No. No one wants to put another My Lai on the record, and very few people even know that there was a massacre. Reiko, my whole life after Hue is heavily classified; it was only yesterday afternoon that I received clearance to talk about this with anyone. Priscilla knows it all, and when we get upstairs, so will Vickie and Rita. I'll deal with Sarah later.”

“But why, Ian? Why, after all these years, are they suddenly allowing you to go public?”

”Reiko, I blindsided the Agency, and now we're scrambling to do damage control. I was supposed to live a quiet life out here, but instead I foolishly agreed to help Phil and Don. It was a spur of the moment decision, and it felt right at the time, but it ended up wrecking my cover, which was never designed to survive even casual scrutiny. A part of me is glad that it worked out this way because lying to the women I love has been tearing me apart. But at the same time, it's putting my daughter in great danger.”

“Go on,” Reiko gently encouraged.

“For years, we have been looking worldwide, an intense but quiet search. Now that I've surfaced, we are going to recruit people outside the intelligence community to assist, which will make our efforts impossible to hide. If we get too close ...”

“They'll kill her.” Priscilla had followed everything Ian had said to its logical conclusion.

“We can get coffees up in the ward,” Becky decided. “We'll take you up.”

“Marcia and I will help Gayle,” Bernice declared.

“And now I'm a bodyguard for real,” Priscilla sighed. “And first things, first: I still have to change Ian's diaper!”

[New Hampshire town said NO to the so-called Diaper Spa]

10 hours ago, ValentinesStuff said:

I'm beginning to wonder how she got her MD and passed all those tests and licensing processes.

She was licensed to practice medicine in Maine, not NH.  These licenses do not transmit across state lines, any more than a license to practice law in one state permits you to practice it in another.  

13 minutes ago, Nat said:

If she had ran this as an adult kink service, I doubt she would have found herself fined that much.

Again, she was hit hard because she does not have a license to practice medicine in NH.  The business was never going to fly because she was never going to get a Special Use Permit to operate this business in an R-1 district.  

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

18 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

The household is beginning to take shape, and Vickie's past is now catching up with her.  Ian is in bed with the Mafia, and it's implied that the end of this story will be very bloody.

Thanks.  This is a good summary of where we are at.  And yes, you can pretty much take it for granted that the final chapters in this saga will come with warnings.  Think Reservoir Dogs.

[Training Daniel]

4 hours ago, parkintochter said:

it isn't, it's just similar. Cousin Emmy also had this size differences

An alternate universe story, perhaps?  At 7 feet, the lady in Turkey lives in a fish bowl.  Can you imagine the constant scrutiny that would attend an 8 foot mother and 7 foot daughter anywhere on this planet?  There's no way they could treat Daniel this way and keep it out of the public domain.  Social Services would be all over this in a heartbeat.

[Training Daniel]

7 hours ago, Elfy said:

Things will hopefully become clear as the story goes!

If this is an Amazon/little story, please tag it as such.  

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

11 hours ago, CDfm said:

 I do kind of wonder why Ian thinks that Spats might be able to help him find the location his daughter is being held.  If they have an entire village of children it wouldn’t make that much of a change in the food distribution to alert anyone. Surely those holding the children would be smart enough to not cause any undue suspicion. 

Thanks as always for your thoughtful comment.  It's possible that Ian is simply throwing mud against the wall in the hope that something sticks.  Then again, he has had 8 years to think about how the massacre came about.  Put yourself in his shoes.  What can the Russians tell him that he and Donnie can't learn for themselves?  How would this knowledge help him in his quest?  This is a suspense novel-- a thriller with a mystery twist of the "whodunnit" variety.  We have a ways to go yet, and I hope that you and all the other readers continue to enjoy the ride.

[Can I Just Go Home?]

This story, which dates to 2021, appears to have been a one-off from the amazon universe.  Before that, the author last left a comment in 2007.  Interested readers might try messaging the author to see if there is any interest in continuing the tale.

[AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 56 (INTERMISSION) READ FIRST]

23 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

Definitely B

Bingo!  He was gunned down in that famous North Side garage by Spats Columbo, played by George Raft, one of the best bad guys in film history.

[Training Daniel]

Calls to mind the 1973 film THE BABY, only without the Social Services worker (at least, in this chapter).  And is this an Amazon/little story (no tags)?  Your mother/daughter team would be the tallest women on the planet, the mother being fully a foot taller than the lady in Turkey who comes in at 7 feet and currently holds the record.

[New Story Development.]

The present is easy to write because you can take context for granted.  The past is more difficult because you have to be wary of anachronisms.  Writing a pair of stores set in 1979, I have to spend a certain amount of time double checking to make sure that I have the technology right, and the movies, TV programs, music, books, and on and on and on.  So, in my experience, your second and third options would prove more time consuming than your first.  So, think about how much time you have to give to this project, and how best to use it.

[IS there a table of contents for this story board?]

1 hour ago, BabySofia said:

Your best bet is to search tags that are on the sides of the stories or below.

As Baby Sofia indicates, the tags can be very useful.  If you are part of what the publishing industry calls the Harry Potter demographic, the tags will direct you to the Diaper Dimension, furries, magic, robots, sci fi, and a good deal of the storytelling about Amazons and littles.  Titles can also serve you well.  A very popular trope here is child abuse via diaper humiliation.  For example, look for titles that combine the word "Aunt" with "summer" and/or "vacation," and the odds are this is what you will find.  Ultimately, the best approach is to go through the hundred plus pages of story titles, and use tag and title searches to move things along.  If you are interested in stories about adults that are set in the real world, I would start with the oldest entries, and move forward.  There are quite a few authors here with many stories to their credit, so in time you should develop a feel for the turf that they've carved out.  Find one of these authors whom you like, and then run the gauntlet of what they have to offer here.  Hope this helps.