AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON THREE, SCENE 89: THE MOMENT OF TRUTH: LINH

[kerry]

18 hours ago, Babypants said:

Who is this author, and what is the title of this path breaking work?" 

William Hope Hodgson's The House on the Borderland?

[littlebopeeper]

34 minutes ago, kerry said:

William Hope Hodgson's The House on the Borderland?

You beat me to it!  I was 13 when I read this, and it freaked me out.  But it did set me up for Lovecraft, especially the Cthuhul stories.  Have you ever read Hodgson's The Night Land?  It influenced Edmond Hamilton and Isaac Asimov (big Scifi fan here).  So, congratulations.  I really thought that I would be the only person around here to get this one.  Glad to see that other people are tackling these puzzles.

[Babypants]

10 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

Glad to see that other people are tackling these puzzles.

And I appreciate everyone who plays.  After Lovecraft, there is in my estimation just one more great horror writer, and that's John Wyndham.  Loved The Midwich Cuckoos, and Day of the Triffids, and heartily recommend them (both date from the 1950's).  

[CDfm]

Well I bet I read the first several paragraphs of this chapter at least a hundred times.  Every time I started reading it, I was interrupted.  I was finally able to finish it.  
Now having worked in the business and trained with the CIA I have ver to come across anyone that was James Bond like.  No one I have encountered was licensed to kill.  Still that makes for good reading. I have to say I was very pleased to see Vickie and Rita put Sarah in her place. 
I am still looking forward to this drinking contest and I guess we will see it eventually.  Great job on this.  Looking forward to seeing more. 

[Babypants]

7 hours ago, CDfm said:

Now having worked in the business and trained with the CIA I have ver to come across anyone that was James Bond like.  No one I have encountered was licensed to kill.

Not surprising.  In my day, wet work was contracted out so that Langley's managers could "disavow" all knowledge when summoned to testify at congressional hearings.  And so far, Ian hasn't actually killed anyone-- but be patient.  I don't want to disappoint CCApril, whom I owe a stack of dead bodies.

[mushy bottom]

Sarah is a great character, a control freak in a setting that needs one.  But how do you turn it on and off at will?  It's like trying to conduct an orchestra without any training.  Hope her mom can help.

[Babypants]

PICKING UP THE PIECES

“How's his diaper?”

Deliberately ignoring Ian, Rita directed her question to Priscilla. Since Ian was no longer responsible for his diaper changes … indeed, could no longer even touch his diapers, she wanted to use frequent diaper checks and random but increasingly frequent diaper changes to reinforce his state of complete dependence on the women who now shared his life.

The revelations that Ian had proffered in the conference room had shattered Rita's long term plans, although for the time being she reckoned that he could still be housed in one of the pediatric cribs that she had set up in the makeshift nursery, and even kept fully restrained. Inevitably, however, everything would change with the first pregnancy, when he would need the freedom to respond instantly to any threat-- but at a minimum that moment lay five to six weeks in the future.

For his long term well-being as well as Vickie's therapeutic assault on his deeply seated guilt complex, Rita therefore reasoned that they needed not only to continue building up the Princess Poopy Pants persona but also to speed up the process. It was still the only tool at their disposal that could shatter the wall behind which his psyche retreated when under duress. Everything that she had learned convinced Rita that successfully treating Ian might, at some point, mean the difference between life and death.

And now she was finally about to find out just how deep the trauma ran.

“I changed him about twenty minutes ago,” Priscilla responded as she glanced at her watch; “shortly after three. I'll change him again at the sorority house right before we leave for the bar.”

“I'll check him when we're finished here, then send him downstairs to see Sarah. She will probably change him before sending him on his way. Are you driving him over to the sorority?”

“Yes, but first I want to track down Amos … make sure that everything is squared away for tonight.”

“Check the ER, and if he's not there, the cafeteria. He is not going to respond well to the news about Ian's wife and daughter. We're all worried about him.”

“Me too. I'm hoping that the drinking contest will give him a chance to blow off some steam.”

“Just remind your cop friends that he's a vet, and that he has issues. Tonight, they need to be not just patient but tolerant.”

“Consider it done. My Dad will be there, and he'll make sure that things don't get out of hand.”

“Good … very good.”

Rita finally turned her attention to Ian, whose body language radiated tension.

“Ian, before we get started, I want to apologize to you. My behavior this morning was inexcusable, and all the more so because I had at least some sense of what you were going to say before I walked into the room. I should have been thinking about you and your daughter … should have given no thought to anything but helping you. And instead? Instead, all I could see was my plans for our future going up in smoke. I walked out of that meeting cursing my selfishness, and wondering just when I ceased to be a compassionate person. I'm sorry … truly, truly sorry.”

“It's hard to let go of our dreams.” Ian shrugged, not at all sure what he was supposed to say in response to Rita's apology.  “But I'll repeat what I said earlier. I want the three of you to step back and really think about this. I am asking so much of you, and offering so little in return.”

“That's not true, Ian … not even remotely true. We have weighed our feelings, and over lunch, we exchanged views in rather blunt terms. Vickie and I lectured Sarah on how badly she is mishandling your relationship, and we are going to go right on doing so. You're going to be stuck with Vickie forever, and with me as well. My moment came when Janis erupted, and you rushed to her side. I have been second guessing myself ever since I realized that I had feelings for you. 'What is this all about', I kept asking myself. And suddenly, it was all so clear … I've spent my whole adult life looking for a decent guy who's smart and hard working, a success … but also gentle and loving, and destined to win the Father of the Year Award hands down. And there you are.”

“There you are,” she murmured yet again.

“Four wives … forty-two surrogate daughters that we know of ...” Priscilla had a mock innocent look on her face. “Husband and Father of the Year!”

“Forty-two?”

“Wendy Stafford. You really made an impression on her during your office hours-- her, and Suzie both. Suz is working hard to make good ZAP's losses by persuading other bed wetters to follow in Wendy's wake and migrate to the house.”

“Suzie is a fantastic lady! Why the hell didn't I wake up this morning to find myself in love with her? How in the name of God does this work?”

“Give it time,” Priscilla laughed. There was genuine merriment in her eyes. “Remember, we had been chained together for more than forty-eight hours before we realized that we were in love. These things take time!!”

Rita clapped her hands, delighted at how the conversation was going. And Priscilla, she decided was a great catch: the more time she spent with the police officer, the more she liked her.

“Priscilla, let me ask you straight out: do you like babying him? The diaper changes? The bottle feedings?”

“I love it! It's so intimate … maternal, and at the same time erotic.”

“Good … very, very good. There's a little baby girl inside Ian, whom we call Princess Poopy Pants. Vickie has locked the personality down, and installed a trigger that allows her to summon the Princess. Sarah and I will be going through the same program to enable us to achieve the same result. Vickie is using the Princess to attack the wall that Ian's psyche is hiding behind; that's what these seizures are about.”

“His inability to make decisions,” Pris surmised.

“Exactly. And we have to do this before one of us gets pregnant. Priscilla, given what Ian has told us, we have to start from the presumption that we're going to be attacked, and that it will come as a surprise. Ian has to be able to make decisions while taking live fire, and right now that's beyond his reach.”

Priscilla nodded; everything that Rita was saying made sense.

“Ian, do you agree with my take on the situation?”

Rita had given this moment a lot of thought, and she had come to the conclusion that it was best to make Ian feel like an active member of the team, and not simply a patient.

'Yes, absolutely.”

Ian shifted his attention to Priscilla. “I have no awareness of the Princess, but I accept that she's real. There are holes in my memory, Pris, things that have occurred during the last week of which I am completely unaware. These gaps correspond to the times when she takes over my mind and body. It's scary, but I think that Vickie's right. The one, sure fire way to break down the wall that I hide behind is to threaten her. My need to protect the people I love amounts to a compulsion.”

“Like Janis.” In her head, Priscilla was replaying the scene in the conference room.

“Like, Janis,” Ian agreed. “Okay. Rita, what do you want me to do?”

Rita shifted in her seat, thinking about how to frame her response. “Ian, you freely admit that you have trust issues, but I'll say it again: communication is the key to a polyamorous relationship. We need you to fight your instinct to keep everything bottled up, and not let anybody in. At lunch, Sarah gave us an example that seems ridiculous on the surface, but it goes to the heart of the matter: do you prefer crunchy peanut butter, or creamy?”

“WHAT?” Ian was so taken by surprise that he came half way out of his seat. “Creamy, of course; the crunchy stuff gets stuck between my teeth!”

“Now ask Priscilla an equally innocuous question.” “Um … o … kay. Um … do you like cream in your coffee, or sugar?”

“Neither. I take it black. It's a family tradition.”

“Priscilla, from now on? Every time you think of something like this? Speak up. And Ian? You, too. For example, don't you think that it would be a good idea to find out my favorite color?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. It would make buying presents a heck of a lot easier!”

“So, ask me.”

“Rita, what's your favorite color?”

“Plum. But I like bold colors, not pastels. And the same goes for Sarah and Vickie. Priscilla, how about you?”

“Definitely bold. Pastel does not agree with the Minnesota winter.”

“What about the summertime?”

“Good catch, Ian!” Priscilla was beaming. “Pastels are for Spring and Summer.”

“And your favorite color is …?”

“Not going to tell you! I want you to figure it out on your own!”

“And short of breaking into your bedroom, how am I supposed to do that?”

Rita burst out laughing. Men, she thought to herself.

“Well, duh! Can you think of a subject dearer to the heart of one Sergeant Herb Canon than the likes and dislikes of Daddy's little girl? Honestly, Ian! I swear, there are times when you men are all dumber than rocks! What else do you plan to talk about with my Dad tonight? Irina, maybe? I'm sure Daddy would love to hear all about the time you and Irina were playing Tarzan and Jane in the jungle!”

“And who, pray tell, is Irina?” Rita kept it casual, but she was burning with curiosity.

“General Irina Orlov of Soviet military intelligence … the femme fatale we're going to toast with ouzo when we get to Athens.”

“Don't forget the Kalamata olives,” Ian interceded. Ian's all night trysts with Irina in the shadows of Mount Lycabettus had inspired more than a few fits of jealousy in the carpeted halls of Langley's top floor.

“Imagine! A Soviet general eagerly waiting to change Ian's dirty diaper one more time!”

“She's changed your diaper? A SOVIET GENERAL?” Rita's eyes were close to bugging out of her head.

“What can I say?” Ian was smiling modestly.

“A great deal more! Ian, this is what I mean … the life that you've led. Damn it, come Saturday night? I want you to entertain us! And no more of this nonsense about everything being top secret. Is the Taj Mahal worth visiting? Do people really get seasick riding around on a camel?”

“I did,” he shrugged.

“So, come Saturday night, tell us the story! Let us into your life!”

Ian took a deep breath, thinking about it.

Maybe the funny stuff that sometimes happens, like that night I flew into the wrong country …

“A little booze might loosen me up a bit.”

“No. Sorry, but no. It's a tall glass of cranberry juice if you behave yourself, and bottle fed breast milk if you don't. Tonight is the last hurrah, Ian, and that includes Athens; I do not want my child conceived in an alcoholic haze, and when our baby is born, I want you to be able to keep us safe. No alcohol dulling your reactions, and no guilt paralyzing you in a moment of crisis. The two are opposite sides of the same coin.”

“Hear, hear,” Priscilla whispered-- but loud enough for Ian to catch it.

“Cranberry juice is for breakfast. At night, I prefer limeade on the rocks. Not lemonade … can't stand the stuff.”

“You see,” Priscilla laughed triumphantly; “you can let us in! Such a good baby! Yes, you are!”

“Ian, tell us the truth: do you like being babied?” Rita made eye contact, and held it.

“Yes and no … and yes, I know how lame that sounds. Rita, literally dozens of nurses changed my diapers during the nine months that I was in military hospitals. A few were warm and caring, but most were efficient to the point of being mechanical. Changing dirty diapers goes with the job, but let's not sugarcoat the fact that it's a lousy way to earn your paycheck. The occasional display of compassion lifted me out of the dumps more than once.”

“So, when one of us changes you?” Rita trailed off, and gestured for Ian to elaborate.

“With each of you, it's a different experience. Pris is playful when changing me, and when she cradles me in her arms … all the love that I see in her eyes? I don't want the moment ever to end. I see the same warmth in your eyes when you're nursing me, Rita, but your diaper changes are very much in the 'let's get it done' mode. Why not take your time, and let your fingers do the walking? Sooner or later, we are going to make love in the midst of a diaper change, and I would much prefer sooner to later!”

“So, you're out to knock down my wall? Get me out of my shell?”

“Umm … more like dislodge a few bricks, so that I can peek inside and get a sense of the landscape.”

“And if it's dull and dreary?”

“A single rose is invisible in a rose garden, but it brings life to the desert.”

“Oh, that's good! I mean, really; that's seriously good! Did you try that line out on Irina?”

In Priscilla's estimation, Ian's stock had just increased tenfold.

“I'm getting weak in the knees,” Rita confessed. “Delivered with just the right note of sincerity, that line would cause over half the women in this hospital to swoon. This really is flyover country.”

“Vickie is another story altogether.” Ian chose to ignore the editorial comments. “When she babies me, it's therapy and nothing more. “Licking food off of each other's fingers is our idea of foreplay. We charge each other's sexual batteries.”

“When Vickie was in San Francisco this summer, she visited a polyamorous commune called Kerista.” Rita had been enthralled, as everyone in the department had been, when Vickie laid out the details. “Since there are more women than men in the group, the guys have to sleep with a different woman every night in a fixed rotation. Since the women can't sleep with one another, they spend a certain number of nights alone in each cycle. And to make matters even more interesting, a guy can also have sex with any woman he wants outside the rotation! They call it a 'freebie'.”

“No thanks,” Ian said, and he meant it. “Oh, I'm good with the rotation, but I would much prefer to tie it to when you're ovulating. Besides, in a small group like ours, we can't afford to play favorites. Rita, suppose that on your day in the rotation, I also had a freebie with Pris. Then, the next day I have a freebie with you while sleeping with Pris. Sarah and Vickie would be seriously unhappy campers.”

“The real problem,” Priscilla teased, “is who gets stuck sleeping with you after it's Vickie's turn. You're not the Eveready bunny! She is going to wear you out!”

“You're right,” Ian grinned; “I will definitely need to have some time off!”

“Which brings us to Sarah,” Rita noted. “Ian, she really wants to treat you like a baby because reducing you to infancy will give her absolute control over your life, and for some reason this really turns her on.”

“Yeah, Vickie's told me pretty much the same thing. I want Sarah to make all of the big decisions … or rather, for the four of you to do so. And she can even make the small decisions when we're together … things like what I should eat for breakfast or dinner. But she can't grade my exams or write letters of recommendation. She can't decide what I'm having for lunch when we're apart. And above all, once one of you becomes pregnant? She can't incapacitate me. I can defend my family, but not if I'm heavily restrained and locked in a crib like in room eleven!”

“And Vickie and I are going to continue hammering that point home. It looks like her mother is coming for a visit this weekend; hopefully, Sofia will be able to reason with her.”

“How serious is the threat, Ian? Have you and your friends at Langley made any progress at all?”

Priscilla knew that she was going to make a baby with Ian, and she did not want their child to grow up behind a wall of armed security.

“It's more a process of elimination than anything else. Irina has access to intelligence in Viet Nam that we can't touch, so it's really up to her. I'm hoping that she wants us in Athens to update what's she's learned in Hanoi and Saigon.”

“Long time coming.”

“Give it a rest, Rita. The Viet Cong were not exactly big on record keeping, so this is a matter of Irina going in and finding the right people and then interviewing them. It takes time.”

“Sorry. It's begun to dawn on me that people like you and Irina are what stands between us and another Cuban missile crisis, but it's hard to come to terms with the fact that the professionals on both sides are working together to keep the politicians from destroying the planet..”

“It is what it is, and you have just described the situation very well.”

“So Becky got it right, didn't she.” Priscilla was tying the scattered pieces into a coherent puzzle. “Langley wants you to have children to replace you in the field, not spies but go betweens.” She nodded to herself, the truth finally becoming clear.

“Yeah. As I said in the conference room, that't what this is all about. Priscilla, we leave nothing to chance. To the contrary; we plan far ahead.”

“You need to give Irina a baby.” Priscilla was blunt.

“WHAT???”

“Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Imagine a world in which our son or daughter, gifted with this talent, acts in concert with a similarly gifted child born to you and Irina. They would be the ultimate Failsafe mechanism.”

“Sorry, but can't see it happening.” Ian had the grace to blush.

“So cute,” Priscilla grinned; “and don't worry. I'll take Irina out for coffee, and make all the arrangements. Talk to her about her patriotic duty …”

“She needs to talk with Sarah,” Rita said as she snapped her fingers. “As head of household, it will be her responsibility to fit Irina into the rotation when we're in Athens.”

“Oh, dear God,” Ian whined. “Would the two of you please … pretty please … lay off?”

“Careful, Ian,” Rita warned. “This is a huge decision, and huge decisions … well, you know.. Priscilla, do you have an ampule in your pocket?”

“Always,” she acknowledged.

“Good. Then, let's start with the basics. Ian, the question of who you sleep with … the very idea of a rotation … is this your decision to make, or is it Sarah's?"

“Sarah's,” Ian sighed. He knew exactly where Rita was going, knew that he had already lost.

“Correct. “She will manage our sex lives the same way she does everything else in our household. And she will be rational. The four of us will doubtless be taking our temperatures every morning before we get out of bed. Headaches, tender breasts, unusual vaginal discharge-- there are quite a few markers that indicate when we're approaching peak fertility. For your sake, let's just hope that the four of us are not on the same monthly cycle.”

“Oldest goes first,” Priscilla declared.

Ian simply looked at her.

“I have the fewest eggs,” Rita explained, knowing that Ian didn't have a clue. “Our lab tech made it clear to me that I need to get a move on.”

“A romantic evening would be nice,” Ian suggested hopefully. “A candlelit dinner for two … a twirl around the dance floor-- and I'm not talking that disco shit. My back's not up to it.”

“Murray's,” Rita smiled.

“Murray's … Jax … both good choices.”

“And a steak, medium rare? A monstrous baked potato piled high with sour cream, chives, and bacon?”

“You know me well,” Ian smiled in turn. He had already had this conversation with Rita more than once.

“Don't think Sarah would approve.”

“I don't plan on asking her.”

“Not a good idea.”

“To the contrary; it's the only way to fly. The way I see it is Sarah controls the calendar, and you ask her to clear an evening for us to go out and spend some time together. Once we're out the door, you're in charge … as Vickie or Priscilla would be. If there's a place that you really want to go, then we'll go there. I'll honor your desire to keep alcohol off the table, but I'll order dinner for myself, thank you very much.”

“And you'll eat your fill, leaving me to wonder whether you'll have another blowout before I get you home.”

“Sleeping with me will definitely put a certain thrill in your … how did you describe your life? Oh, yeah: 'dull and dreary'.”

“Have to make a lot of phone calls … find out which restaurants are okay with me changing you on the floor of the ladies room.”

“Be sure and ask whether the door locks ...”

“Good point … if my fingers are going to do the walking, we definitely don't want anyone else barging in.”

“And on that note, I think I'll take my leave. Ian, I'll wait for you in the cafeteria.”

Priscilla got up, but paused in the doorway on her way out. She dramatically jiggled the handle, confirming that the door would lock when she closed it.

“It may be food with Vickie,” she observed, “but with you two it's clever word play. I swear, the pheromones are so thick in here that you could cut them with a knife!”

After Priscilla gently shut the door, Rita and Ian were left to sit staring mutely at one another, each trying to find the magic words that would paper over the awkwardness of the moment.

“She's right, you know.” Instinct drove Ian to admit the truth. “Now that I've dislodged a brick or two, I can see what lies behind the wall, and it's not a dull and dreary landscape.”

Still silent, eyes wide with desire, Rita was petrified that Ian would take the next step, even as she longed for him to do so.

He stood up, and walked around the desk, towering over her. Reaching down, he grasped her hands, and eased her to her feet. “I am in the presence of a volcano,” he whispered, “too long dormant … ready to erupt. I love you.”

Taking her in his arms, Ian tenderly kissed her, only to feel Rita kiss him savagely in return …

Hard and then harder ...

Hand groping his heavily padded ass …

Still imprisoned by his arms, she leaned away to stare into his eyes. Ian's feelings were so raw, so authentic, so transparent. She could see them in his gaze, feel them in the way that his hands caressed her.

“Take off your shoes,” she commanded, though her voice was little more than a whisper.

Awkwardly, Ian lifted first one foot and then the other, hastening to obey.

“Now your jacket.”

It landed on the desk, mere seconds before Rita attacked his tie, and then the buttons on his dress shirt. She pulled Ian's undershirt over his head, then unbuckled his belt and tugged hard on his trousers; it was only with difficulty that they ended up around his ankles.

“Sit on the desk, so that I can get your pants off.”

For good measure, Rita even removed his socks. Apart from the canvas diaper cover encasing his baby pants and thick cloth diaper, Ian was now completely nude.

Opening a filing cabinet, Rita removed a changing pad, and unfolded it on the floor.

Ian stood over it, and Rita used her key to unlock his cover. She pulled the canvas, and the vinyl pants lurking within, down in one fluid motion. Then she knelt on the floor just long enough to get them off his legs before casting them aside.

Standing up, Rita reached out to massage Ian's crotch.

“A bit wet,” she murmured. “Down on the floor so that I can change you.”

Ian once more hastened to comply.

Kneeling at his side and taking her time, Rita released each of the four pins holding his diaper in place, and slowly lowered it. Ian quickly became fully erect, and he shuddered when she grazed his member with a fingernail.

“I see what you mean about letting my fingers do the walking,” she said, as she repeatedly ran her fingernail up and down his shaft.

Eyes closed, barely breathing, Ian was holding onto the changing mat with tightly clenched fists.

Rita stood up, kicked off her shoes, and then disrobed. She took her time, pausing only when she was down to her bra and panties. “Look at me, Ian, and tell me: do you like what you see?”

Ian cautiously opened his eyes, to find Rita standing over him, legs astride, hands on hips. “I love you,” he repeated.

“I can see that,” she smirked as she toed his hardened shaft. “Now, on your knees. Use your teeth to remove my panties, and then bathe me with your tongue. Rumor has it that your tongue is magical. Let's see if the rumors are true ...”

Ian didn't need to be told twice, and looking down upon his kneeling form, gripping his shoulders hard to steady herself as the waves of pleasure washed over her, Rita reveled in the power that she was exercising over her lover. She had to bite her lip, and do so repeatedly, to keep from moaning loud enough for the entire department to hear. It would not do, she kept reminding herself, for Marge to find out what they were up to.

“Such a good baby,” she purred. “And you're right … diaper changes are the ideal time for us to make love. Do you want your auntie Rita to mount you, baby … do you?”

"Please, aunt Rita; please take me! Please!”

“Then lay back, and grip the changing mat with both hands. Don't let go!”

When Ian obeyed, Rita eased herself down onto his rock hard shaft. Then she bundled up her panties, and wiggled them in front of Ian's face.

“Open wide, baby! We are being very naughty, and it would not go well if my colleagues heard you screaming. No, we must be very quiet.”

Ian opened wide, and savored the taste of her.

“Now, I want you to lie there, and be still. I am going to make our first time memorable for the both of us. I will set the pace, and I will be very disappointed if you cum before I give you permission. If you are close to coming, slap the changing pad, and I will back off until I'm ready to finish you. Nod if you understand, baby.”

Ian nodded. He was determined to make a memory that would last a lifetime, for both of them. And to his very great surprise, Ian soon discovered that Rita was an imaginative but very disciplined lover. She would set a tempo, and then alter it without warning, her climaxes sometimes easy to anticipate, and at other times catching him unawares. Repeatedly, she walked him up to the edge, only to retreat and organize a fresh attack on his ravaged cock. When she finally permitted him to climax, it felt as if gallons of cum were gushing out of him, no end to it.

Rita adroitly capped the flow with a tampon, and then proceeded to clean Ian up and pin him back in the same diaper. It still had, she observed, plenty of life left in it. Moments later, she relished the slight click as Ian's canvas diaper cover was once again locked firmly in place.

Eyes still closed and adrift on a postcoital cloud, Ian continued to lie motionless on the changing pad. Nearly asleep, he was not even aware that he was still sucking on Rita's panties until she prized his mouth open and gently retrieved them. She grimaced when she saw that they were dripping with saliva, but all was not lost: like any sensible doctor or nurse, Rita kept spare underwear in a desk drawer.

While she redressed, Rita also warmed a bottle of breast milk. When it was ready, she dropped to the floor, propped her back against the desk, and nudged Ian to roll over and slide into her arms. He was barely conscious when she pressed the bottle to his lips, and he began to nurse on the warm milk.

Ian was still nude save for his diaper and cover, and Rita could not resist drawing lazy circles on his tummy while he continued to nurse. Maternal feelings now competing with erotic, Rita fully grasped what Priscilla had meant when she described Ian's diaper changes as both erotic and maternal at the same time.

Breast feeding become foreplay … but six times a day? God! I'm going to go mad with desire!

Cradling Ian in her arms, his body completely relaxed …

It's time. Sorry, my love, but it's time.

[CCApril]

On 7/22/2024 at 9:27 PM, Babypants said:

I don't want to disappoint CCApril, whom I owe a stack of dead bodies.

It is hard to stack bodies after they go through the woodchipper. I will settle for a pile!

[CCApril]

Great chapter! I like how they are finally nailing down how this relationship will work.

Will Sarah's mom be be helpful or something less then helpful? A baby with Irina is actually a great idea. The less rare Ian's talent is, the safer everyone else is.

 

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT: a sixth bundle of chapters, with comments removed, has been posted on the STORIES portion of the site that you access through the HOME page.  This takes us up through scene 21.  A seventh bundle is in the hopper, waiting for Mike to upload at his leisure.

[Guilend]

I still think Sarah owes Rita a paddling for not telling her about the bar plan. I'm still excited to see how Rita fairs with her turn spending the night with Ian in his crib while diapered, and if course Sarah's turn.

[Babypants]

On 7/26/2024 at 12:15 PM, CCApril said:

A baby with Irina is actually a great idea. The less rare Ian's talent is, the safer everyone else is.

You're right, and I'm sorry that I didn't have Priscilla argue it this way.  Looks like she will have to have another go at this in a future scene.  Thanks much.

23 hours ago, Guilend said:

I'm still excited to see how Rita fairs with her turn spending the night with Ian in his crib while diapered, and if course Sarah's turn.

Now, who should we have win the right to diaper each of them by ponying up the high bid in the "diaper your favorite nurse" auction?  Remember, bidding is restricted to females, but any female working in the hospital can participate, including staff working in their departments.  And don't forget ... candy stripers are members of the staff.  

[Guilend]

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

Now, who should we have win the right to diaper each of them by ponying up the high bid in the "diaper your favorite nurse" auction?  Remember, bidding is restricted to females, but any female working in the hospital can participate, including staff working in their departments.  And don't forget ... candy stripers are members of the staff.  

While I think candy strippers would be fun, I think at least for Rita, Sara should do it and for Sarah maybe bring her mother in to do it. Totally not because I'd think it would be absolutely embarrassing for Sarah to have her own mother to clean and diaper her and how if really enjoy that 😇

[littlebopeeper]

23 hours ago, Babypants said:

Now, who should we have win the right to diaper each of them by ponying up the high bid in the "diaper your favorite nurse" auction?  Remember, bidding is restricted to females, but any female working in the hospital can participate, including staff working in their departments.  And don't forget ... candy stripers are members of the staff.  

I'm voting for Marge to do Rita, and for Tippi to do Sarah.  Tippi needs to prove to Sarah that she can do Ian's diapers right, and this is the easiest way.

And crunchy peanut butter sucks.

[mushy bottom]

Kerista is the Trivial Pursuit answer for a thousand? And thank you for saying that nurses don't get off on changing dirty diapers.

[CDfm]

Wow that was hot.  I think I need a cigarette and I don’t smoke. 
I tell you I really envy Ian in many different ways.  Having a different hot woman to sleep with every night would be amazing.  I would have to be in my prime to be able to keep up a pace like that though. Even in my prime that’s a tall order to fill.  Giving it a try would be great. 
wonderful chapter!  Looking forward to seeing more. 

[Babypants]

23 hours ago, CDfm said:

 I would have to be in my prime to be able to keep up a pace like that though. Even in my prime that’s a tall order to fill.  Giving it a try would be great. 

I suspect that you would manage.  Keep in mind that Ian is 32 and definitely in his prime!  I remember being 32.  Girlfriends on 3 continents.  Thank God for frequent flyer miles.

[Babypants]

VILLAGE OF THE TWICE DAMNED

“Can you sit up for me? I want to burp you.”

Rita was in seventh heaven. Making love to Ian for the first time had been everything she had imagined, and then some. His thick cock had kept her constantly on edge, and his stamina and self-discipline had been astonishing. He had followed her lead without question, and as a result her orgasms had come in rapid fire succession. They had been intense, but it was the aftermath-- his easy transformation from sensitive lover to infant in arms-- that had made the experience infinitely sweeter.

The sensual had surrendered to the maternal so swiftly that it had left her reeling emotionally. Her hands, normally so still, had taken on a life of their own as she cradled him, nursing him on the twin bottles of breast milk. She had drawn lazy circle after lazy circle on his tummy, the gesture at once comforting yet a continual reminder of her presence.

Without anything to grip onto, Ian struggled to sit upright, but he got there, and Rita switched to gently patting his back. It didn't take long for him to let out a satisfying belch.

“You're getting good at this,” she smiled; “I mean, the bottle feedings. You suck just like an infant, and the breast milk seems to agree with your tummy. But it's an acquired taste. Have you acquired it?” Rita's laugh was heartfelt.

“Most of the time, I'm simply tolerating it. But I'll admit that there have been moments when it tastes really good. I guess not all breast milk is the same.”

“True enough, but your taste buds are sensitive to your mood. Everything tastes better when you're happy.”

“Good point. At the moment, I'm really happy because I thought that I was going to lose you, only to learn that you're here to stay. Maybe that's why these two bottles tasted so good.”

In response, she leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“And Rita? I'm sorry about the house out on Lake Minnetonka. I know you had your heart set on it, but waterfronts are very difficult to secure. Think you'd be okay with a big house surrounded by open fields … maybe a barn or two … our own private pond? Someplace for Toby to wander around, foot loose and fancy free? Toby … well, Toby is really good with kids.”

“And what about Pete?”

“Oh, he'll keep the barns clean.”

“How about a bunkhouse for the security team?”

“Works for me.”

“Imagine that ours would be the only place in Minnesota where the kids have an elephant and a python for pets.”

“Our liquor bill would be enormous. I'm not exaggerating when I say that Pete can out drink any guy on this planet.”

“We'll put Pete on the payroll. An unarmed security guard. Course, we'll have to put up signs … TRESPASSERS WILL BE HUGGED TO DEATH!”

“Speaking of hugs ...”

Ian wiggled around until he was facing Rita, who was still leaning with her back against the desk. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

Rita frowned, pretending to think about it. “Not in the last ten minutes or so … thought it might have slipped your mind. Do you? Do you really, really love me?”

“I do, and if I don't collapse first, I intend to prove it at every diaper change. And when you start lactating? That suction cup attached to your teats is gonna be me.”

“Can't wait! I'm already using a breast pump, but I'll redouble my efforts … which, reminds me … we need to go back to the store and buy a couple of pumps for Priscilla! Sorry, baby, but with four of us breast feeding you, there won't be any space in your tummy for regular food for a long, long time … maybe years.”

“Oh, the horror ...”

“I can just see it now. The five of us will be at Murray's, and four of us will be dining on steaks and baked potatoes piled high with all the trimmings. But our little baby boy will be slurping down his breast milk. Maybe we can get a private room where the four of us can take turns nursing you. Wouldn't that be great fun? Being passed from one set of heavy, milky teats to the next, and having to drink it all! You'll turn into quite the little chubster!

Rita reached out to pat Ian's tummy.

“And you definitely could use a few extra pounds,” she added.

“Hard to gain weight when everything you eat runs right through you,” he lamented.

“Actually, unless the reflex comes with so little warning that you need to race to the toilet, pooping after every meal is healthy. But all five of us need supplements; that's high on the agenda for this weekend.”

“But I'm creating so much work for you,” he protested. “I don't like being a burden.”

“Oh, Ian, you're not a burden. Have you ever heard one of us complain about having to change you? Have you?”

“No … no, I guess not.”

“And you won't. First, your stool is so mushy that the cleanup is a breeze. So, don't worry about it. But more importantly, I relish being your mommy as much as I enjoy our lovemaking-- and our first time was incredible! You are my little baby Ian, and I don't want that ever to change.”

“And Princess Poopy Pants?”

“If Sarah had her way,” Rita laughed, “Ian would be dethroned, and the Princess would take her place. And every once in a while, it's going to happen.”

“Sorry … don't follow.”

“Let's say that we summon the Princess, and leave her in control of your mind and body for a couple of weeks. Ian, she does not have your doubts, nor your anxieties. Where you distrust, she trusts absolutely. How do you think your body would respond to going fourteen days without worry or stress? Think of it as the ultimate vacation!”

“Complete with wearing all the baby dresses you've been buying me. Thank God I wouldn't remember any of it.”

“There you go. How about a week as an eight month old? Crawling around the house, unable to speak a single word, not even 'Mama'. Then, in the second week, you graduate to being a toddler. A few simple words, plus you can stand upright … even walk. Therefore onesies the first week, and baby dresses the second! It would be the ultimate vacation-- a holiday from yourself!”

“You know, Rita, you really are one hell of a salesperson.” Ian had a large grin on his face. “First it was Don and Phil, and now you're making a totally bizarre pitch actually sound appealing!”

“Glad you're good with it because it's going to happen, maybe as early as next week. Vic is ready to proceed, but how we do this going forward very much depends on what you are about to tell me. So, get back down here; once you're safely cradled in my arms, we'll proceed.”

. . . .

“Good afternoon, Sir. It's Robert. Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Is this high priority?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Proceed.”

“Songbird has had a very busy and very public day. He appeared in court this morning to defend forty-one girls from a local sorority who have been running around town stealing diapers off of people's front porches.”

“The usual fraternity hi-jinx?”

“It would appear so. I was in the Student Union for an early lunch when a bus brought the girls home. There was a huge crowd waiting, including crews from all of the local stations. One of the newshounds accosted Songbird when he got off the bus, and asked him straight out if he was a CIA agent.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“Sir, this went out live on every local station. The potential reach is over two million viewers. I expect this segment to be replayed at five, six, and possibly ten.”

“Oh, wonderful … just wonderful. What did Songbird say?”

“He denied being on the payroll, but conceded that he does favors for his friends at Langley-- the kind of favors that involve travel to exotic ports of call worldwide. When he left for class, the students were hailing him as Secret Agent Man. I'm afraid it's going to stick.”

Mister Black sighed deeply. His budget was already stretched thin, but he realized that it was about to be stretched a good deal more.

“It gets worse, Sir … a lot worse. First, everywhere you go on campus, people are talking about Songbird's wife and daughter … about what happened out there.”

“So, the cat is well and truly out of the bag?”

Black shook his head in despair. It was easy to calculate where this would go next. On one level, he considered himself lucky that the story had taken so long to break.

“Yes, Sir. There was one odd feature in the morning's events. When they got off the bus, all but a handful of the girls were wearing blue scrubs, and one of them was sporting one of those flimsy hospital gowns. Playing a hunch, after class I drove over to the hospital. There's a bulletin board down in the cafeteria, and someone has mounted a photo of Songbird's family. He's cradling the baby in his arms, and she's very small, so the picture must have been taken not long after Linh's birth. There's a note accompanying the photo. It reads: 'wife murdered'. Stop. 'Daughter stolen'. Stop. “Village massacred'. Stop. 'Search ongoing'. Full stop.”

“Shit. Is the press on it?”

“Uncertain, but the hospital is in a state of collective shock … and tonight the shock wave is going to roll across the Cities. So, it's only a matter of time.”

“And the locals will run it by their networks, and someone will bite.”

“No chance of shutting it down?”

“None. Oh, when it goes public the Agency will probably blame it on the South Vietnamese pacification program in the highlands, but after Watergate and My Lai everybody in the business is chasing Peabodies and Pulitzers. Too many people know about the Phoenix Program, Robert, so no one is going to pass on the cover-up of a massacre, especially when the tragedy involves a decorated war hero and his family. The photo will probably end up on the cover of Time.”

“Sir, with all due respect, none of this makes any sense. What are the odds that Songbird would show up in the Twin Cities, and lease an apartment directly above Owl? Is it possible that Raven has been compromised, and someone is running a back door operation against us through her?”

“That is the question, isn't it?”

“The way I read it … someone is trying to flush us out.”

“The possibility does have to be considered.”

Mister Black really didn't like where this was going. Sofia Haikonnen wasn't on STD's payroll, but she was a critical piece of the agency's structure. Retired agents had to be housed somewhere, especially the ones exhibiting early signs of Alzheimer's or dementia. The secure psychiatric ward of a small regional hospital in a remote and sparsely populated region of the country was ideal, especially when the community in question was snowbound for five to six months a year.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, Sir. Two things. First, the diaper service that was being ripped off? It's a Mafia front-- the property of one Vincent Belmondo. 'Spats', as he is known up here, is a protege of Tony Accardo, so we're looking at the Outfit.”

“Wonderful. FYI, Robert … Songbird is tight with the Mafia, both here and in the old country. Odds are that he's offered some kind of deal to this Belmondo character to get the girls off the hook.”

“Could it involve us?”

“Hmm … I think not. The Big Tuna has a problem with local law enforcement … the kind of a problem that Songbird can make go away with a single phone call. I'll repeat what I said this morning: Songbird knows everybody. He's the fixer, doing favors here and there, and storing up the IOU's. There's nothing secret about your Secret Agent Man, Robert. He's out in the open, operating above the fray, our one reliable point of contact with the Soviets. You wouldn't believe some of the people that he's recruited, not to work for us but to moderate their government's sometimes paranoid policies. Hell, even the North Koreans talk to him, and they don't talk to anybody!”

“So, I take it there's no plan in the works to sanction him?”

“Good Lord, no! He's untouchable, especially now that he's out in the open. And he's not a threat. If you want to worry about anyone, worry about Irina Orlov. Odds are that she'll be the first to figure out that this was an inside job.”

“Which brings us to the second thing. Songbird is challenging a police precinct to a drinking contest. A cop bar is hosting, and they're going to play by Hong Kong Rules. It's tonight, and everybody involved figures to get so drunk that driving home would be an accident waiting to happen … a fatal accident.”

“Not going to happen, Robert. I repeat: for the moment at least, Songbird is untouchable.”

“You like him, don't you, Sir?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Ian invented Hong Kong Rules, but he did so for a purpose. He's rather strongly of the opinion that you shouldn't trust any man until you see what he's like when he's drunk. In this town, that bit of homespun wisdom has served me well-- and I will lay odds that, tonight, Street Racer is targeting somebody!”

“Yes. Sir. I'll get back to you when the massacre reaches the local news outlets.”

“Thank you, Robert. By the way, how's the Japanese coming along?”

“You wouldn't believe it, Sir. I'm actually getting good at it!”

. . . .

“Tell me about your family.”

Rita had wrapped her arms around Ian, not simply cradling him but holding him tight. She wanted him to know that he was safe.

“Which one,” he countered. “As of today, I appear to have five.”

“Do you think of us as family?”

Rita was smiling, thinking to herself that Ian's heart was indeed the bottomless pit that Suzie Marshall had described.

“I do … and right now by far the most important one of all.”

“A work in progress. But for the moment, I want to talk about your family in Viet Nam. How did you meet Nguyen?”

“I think about that, sometimes … the heavy hand of Fate. It all goes back to that last day in Hue, and the round that almost killed me. Donnie and I ended up in a military hospital in the Philippines, which is where I met Elaine and Jennifer. They flew in from the States, and I spent a fair amount of time looking after Jenny so that Elaine and Donnie could have some time alone. Jen was seventeen months, this wonderfully happy bundle of pure energy, and I fell in love on the spot … not just with her, but with fatherhood. I left the hospital hoping that one day I would meet the right girl, marry, and have a family of my own.”

Rita squeezed Ian's arm, his words washing over her, reminding her once more that her refusal to settle over the long and sometimes lonely years had set the stage for this moment.

“When we got out of the hospital, neither of us could pass the army physical, so we ended up going home … Donnie to be recruited by the CIA, myself to enlist in the Studies and Operation group, a shadowy outfit if ever there was one. And soon enough, we were both back in Viet Nam. I was tasked to assemble an elite, all volunteer unit without regard for nationality-- professional soldiers who, for one reason or another, wanted a piece of the action. Minh and Quy were combat veterans with solid records, and as an added bonus they hailed from a village in the Highlands that was close enough to Laos and Cambodia to serve as a convenient base of operations. We set up shop on the perimeter, and one Sunday morning, after Mass, Minh introduced me to his little sister, Nguyen, and his wife Anh. Their daughter, Thu, is my goddaughter.”

Rita hugged Ian still closer. For the first time, she was beginning to grasp the scale of the tragedy that had consumed his life.

“Nguyen was beautiful, smart … quick, and she had this incredible sense of humor. She loved the Three Stooges! And I was this twenty-two year old kid from far away who felt like he had actually come home.”

“Home is where the heart is,” Rita murmured.

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “Very much so.”

Rita leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“When we set out on a mission, I always left a rear guard to secure the perimeter, but I didn't think it through. I never left Minh and Quy behind because in battle they always kept their heads. I had one officer, Reggie Grissom, who was charged with bringing up the rear, but Minh and Quy always took whichever flank was most exposed. On that last day, they were holding our right flank, but Minh went down. When I got to him, he said that his legs were gone, but when it came to the fireman's lift, we were all old hands. Don't know how, what with my left leg looking like shredded meat, but I got him onto my shoulders and was limping back to where the choppers were landing when a round tore up my rib cage. Quy stopped a round that killed him instantly, but I managed to get a grip on his fatigues, and was dragging him along. I could actually reach out and touch the chopper when the round came in that shattered in my spine. I went down, losing my grip on both of them. One of the guys … don't know who … one of the guys leaped out of the chopper, scooped me up and manhandled me aboard. I remember him yelling to the stick jockey that they were dead, and it was time to go. That's the last thing I remember before being medevaced to Japan.”

“But you're not sure about Minh, are you?” Rita could hear the doubt in Ian's voice.

“No.” Close to tears, Ian reached out to grip Rita's arm hard. “I never saw the wound. He didn't react when Quy went down, and he was looking right at him. He didn't react when I dropped him. He probably bled out, but I don't know … it's just a guess. What I do know is that they were left behind-- the one sacrament I vowed never to violate, and I broke it.”

“I broke it,” he whispered again.

“I broke it.”

. . . .

“You okay?”

Priscilla slid into the seat beside Amos, who was vacantly staring into space. In midafternoon, the cafeteria was quiet, a few visitors and staff taking a break from the joyless atmosphere that defines any urban hospital.

“Thinking about the Major,” he said in a monotone, his eyes not registering her presence. “I know two guys who got married out there … jumped the hurdles that the army put in their way. One managed to get his wife out; they live down in Arkansas … got three kids now. The other ...”

Amos shook his head, unable to continue.

“We're going to find his daughter, and we're going to bring her home.” Priscilla had reached out to take Amos' hand, and she was squeezing it encouragingly. “We okay for tonight? Diapers, baby pants, locking covers?” She wanted to change the subject.

“Yeah, we're good.”

Amos finally looked at her, but there was bafflement written all over his face. “I don't know how he does it,” he went on. “I mean, I saw him on TV from the sorority house, in total command. He's a good officer, but how does he keep going? In his shoes? By now, I would have drunk myself to death.”

“Funny you should say that. The consensus of opinion up on the seventh floor seems to be that Ian is an alcoholic. He denies it, of course, but that merely means that he's 'in denial'.”

“The Major an alcoholic,” Amos snorted. “Give it a rest. And what the hell are we doing tonight if he's supposed to be an alcoholic?”

“Lots of things going on tonight. We're upholding the honor of the Third. Giving Ian and my Dad a chance to get acquainted without the usual 'invite him over to meet the parents' bullshit. It's a chance for the two of you to relive Hong Kong in all its glory, and fill the rest of us in on the gory details. And last but not least, Rita intends to prove that he's an alcoholic, get him to admit it, and then start drying him out.”

“Sounds like I need to summon reinforcements. Otherwise, we're gonna be outnumbered and outgunned.”

“Not to worry. You do you, and let my Dad keep the lid on. You good with tequila shots?”

“Not my top choice, but I'll go with it.”

"Ian favors rotgut, but Vickie and I like the high-end stuff. So, do me a favor, will you? Vote for Don Julio Blanco. Just between you, me, and the fence post, I was on the phone with the bar a few minutes ago, making sure that we have enough reposado on hand to get us through the night. We're good to go.”

“Dinner at seven?”

“Dinner at seven,” Priscilla agreed. “My treat.”

. . . .

“Nine months in hospitals … surgeries … rehab … learning that you will probably be wearing diapers for the rest of your life.”

Rita was slowly running her hand up and down the top of Ian't thigh. She knew that the light, rhythmic massage would help him to remain calm.

“It was a lot to cope with, and to be so completely cut off from your wife and child …”

“Actually, for the first couple of months, things went surprisingly well. I exchanged letters with some of the guys, which is how I learned that the unit was being dismantled. It took about ten weeks for everyone to retire or transfer out, but I was repeatedly told that the village was carrying on, everybody pitching in to help Nguyen, Anh and their parents ...”

Ian choked back a sob. “And there were photos. In one, Nguyen is sitting, and holding Linh upright to face the camera. She looked so serious.”

“I'd like to see it,” Rita whispered.

“Donnie has it. The Agency has forensic artists who use a technique called age progression to work up a sketch of what Linh looks like as she gets older. I sit down with the team once a year so that they can study how I'm aging, and they know what Nguyen looked like when she was twenty-one. The sketch is updated every year, and it goes worldwide. I keep hoping that Irina will strike gold in Hanoi or Saigon.”

“Ask him to bring it to the wedding.”

“No need. I have a complete file in my office.”

“Bring it to the bar.” Rita clutched his arm a little harder. “Please.”

“Sure, but may I ask why?”

“Because I don't want her to be an abstraction! When I think about your daughter, I want to see her in my thoughts … not imagine her … SEE HER!”

“And now you know why I fell in love with you,” Ian sighed. “You've got a good heart.”

“So, you resigned your commission and returned home to find the village ...”

“Still largely standing, but abandoned. My first thought was that everyone had been forcibly relocated to somewhere in the Delta; Saigon's Strategic Hamlet Program was displacing villages in the Highlands as early as sixty-two, so this would have been nothing new. But I couldn't find anyone in Saigon, Vietnamese or American, who would own up to it. I literally crashed into a wall of silence, which makes sense because after My Lai no one dared acknowledge that both sides were committing atrocities with merry abandon. I badgered spooks from the Delta to the DMZ, but I got nowhere until I caught up with Donnie in Hue. He knew what had happened-- the Agency had a thick file bulging with black and white photos-- but he didn't know who, and he didn't know why. Langley was nominating the Viet Cong for the role of boogie man, but Donnie said that he couldn't make the pieces fit the narrative. There were no babies or very small children among the dead, and that simply did not jive with the VC's modus operandi. That's when I told him that I had left a wife and baby in the village ...”

Ian closed his eyes, the memory of that moment still sharp and clear more than eight years after the fact.

“I'll never forget the look in Donnie's eyes … the same dawning comprehension that he saw in mine. Rita, WE BOTH KNEW! Someone aware of my gift for languages … someone who knew that I had a child, but little else … raided the village, stole the children, and murdered everyone else to muddy the waters. And so we went to work ...”

Rita tensed. She had visited the morgue during her residency, and she had taken the measure of death's aftermath. Physical decay was never pleasant, but with the passage of time it inevitably became the stuff of nightmares. And this was the tropics.

“The forensic team estimated that the bodies had been out in the open for six days ...”

Ian's voice was numb with pain. He had studied a hundred and seventy photographs, studied them and restudied them, trying to identify the deceased so that they might draw up a list of the missing-- a list of those who had been stolen away.

Rita suddenly found herself struggling to breathe …

Six days!

“Oh, Ian, I … I ...”

She couldn't get the words out. She knew what was coming, knew what Priscilla had heard, but her knowledge came from a textbook. What she had observed in the morgue was institutionalized death, organs removed during an autopsy and then returned to the corpse, the incisions neatly sown up, the body made whole. Even the gunshot and accident victims had been artfully sanitized, sparing loved ones a second source of trauma.

Six days!

“My poor baby,” she finally moaned; “my poor, poor baby ...”

“It took time.” Lost in his own memories, Ian pushed on, talking more to himself than to her. “The rounds ruptured organs … the gases … the bloating … some of the bodies were three … even four times life size. The rats feasted on the eyes, and burrowed into the intestines … dragged some of them several feet across the ground … making nests ...”

"Oh, Dear God,” Rita wailed. “NOOOOO!!!”

“The bodies were covered in blowflies and beetles, and the maggots … the maggots were coming out of the open wounds, the eye sockets, mouths, nostrils … everywhere.”

Ian's voice had fallen off to a disembodied monotone.

“NOOOOO,” Rita screamed, loud enough to be heard in the foyer, the once inconceivable horror that tormented her lover's soul now suddenly made all too real. Death was no longer a textbook exercise.

Members of the staff looked at one another, each debating whether they needed to intervene. Marge looked up from the daily summary that she was composing for Don Phillips's file. Calmly climbing to her feet, she walked over and stood in front of the door, preventing anyone from trying to enter.

“It's Major Grady,” she explained in a halting voice. “She's … Rita is learning what happened in that village all those years ago. The policewoman told us that it's bad … really, really bad.” 

Through the closed door, Marge could hear Rita sobbing. She was thankful that Rita had had the foresight to banish Vickie from the premises. Victoria Robinson should, in her judgment, be the last person on earth to hear what was being said in that office.

“It took time,” Ian repeated. “The forensic team was worried about cholera, TB, typhus … they didn't want to handle the dead. In the end, they brought in a bulldozer to dig a trench-- a mass grave. It shoved the bodies into the trench, and then covered it. No one wanted to venture into the huts … not with the rats running around. Some of them were as big as dogs, and very aggressive.”

Tears were streaming down Rita's face, and she made no attempt to wipe them away. Her mind kept returning to the photo, Nguyen so young and vibrant, so full of life, so happy. Only to be murdered and dumped unceremoniously into a mass grave. No one left to mourn.

Until Ian finally happened upon the truth.

“The youngest child was four or five,” Ian continued, nearing the end. “I believe that fourteen were spared. And so we search.”

“And so we search,” Rita echoed, in a monotone of her own. She sniffled to clear her throat.

“Someone else pulled the trigger, but I killed them … I killed them all. I was so fixated on the mission that my sense of duty … that … that I turned a blind eye to a threat that should have been obvious. I didn't think it through, and everyone died.”

“Agreed. You made a decision, and everyone died.”

Rita felt Ian flinch. She knew that this was not the answer he was expecting, and she had choked on the words even as she spat them out, but turning survivor's guilt into a zero sum game was a seed that she needed to plant now for Vickie or another therapist to harvest later.

And do I want Vickie to go through this? Nguyen will haunt my dreams … the mass grave …

Unconsciously, her thoughts far, far away, Rita continued to stroke Ian's thigh.

“The firefight,” she pressed; “how bad was it?”

“The worst. We were out in the open, heavily outnumbered, and taking fire from three directions.”

“And Minh and his brother were protecting your right flank?”

“Yeah. Reggie Grissom had our rear, and he was falling back toward the LZ in good order. The Cobras were laying down heavy fire to the front, so I thinned the perimeter and drew it in tight around the LZ. But I lost communication with the Cobra lead, and I couldn't direct covering fire to our right. Minh and Quy were leapfrogging back to the LZ under sniper fire from the rice paddies … that's when Minh got hit.”

“If you had left them in the village, who would have taken their place?”

“Two of the guys I left there.” Ian shook his head in frustration. “Rita, I can't tell you what this mission was about, but I can tell you that my orders came from the President. It took months to plan the mission, and figuring out the precise number of boots that we needed to put on the ground was a big part of the calculus.”

“But you said that Minh and Xuy were your best. If you had left them at home, would their replacements have made the whole operation more risky?”

“I see where you're going with this,” Ian sighed. “And you're right. From a tactical perspective, you're right. My mistake was strategic. I just didn't think it through.”

“And you still aren't.” Rita stabbed Ian's thigh with her index finger.

“What happened to your unit while you were in the hospital?”

“It was dismantled; everybody moved on.”

“And if you had died in that firefight … would the unit have held together?”

“No … no. Same outcome.”

“And the attack on the village … once you were dead, would it have played out any differently?”

“Minh and Xuy would have been there ...”

“To die along with everybody else.” Rita gently but emphatically patted Ian's diaper cover. “And your daughter and your niece … all fourteen of them would still have been taken. Whoever did this planned it well.”

Rita shifted her weight, wanting Ian to sit up and face her. When he was ready, she reached out to clasp his hands.

“You made a decision, and everyone died,” she repeated. “But your mistake was not the one that has haunted you all these years. Your mistake was building a team that could not carry out so complex a mission without you taking the lead. And was that your mistake, or your superior's? I don't know, but what I do know is that your unit could not function without you, and so it was broken up."

Minh and Quy weren't the critical pieces, Ian ...”

“You were.”

Rita stood up, and without success urged him to his feet. She knew now what had to be done. But should either Vickie or Sarah be involved-- that was the question.

Defeated, leaving Ian on the floor, miserable and alone, clad only in his diaper and cover, Rita opened the door and walked out into the foyer. Walked out into dead silence, everyone staring at her.

She and Marge exchanged unspoken questions.

Still silent, Rita walked over to a potted plant in the corner. Calmly, she bent over, and began to vomit. She did not stop until everything that she had eaten for breakfast and lunch was out of her system. Then, she sank to her knees and rested her head upon the lip of the clay urn.

Silently at first, she began to sob, but soon her body was quaking, and she broke down and began to cry. There was no end to her tears-- tears shed for Ian and Nguyen, for Linh, for the bright promise of so many lives cut short, for long years of misspent opportunities, for a career that no longer seemed quite as important as it had an hour earlier.

Marge gently rubbed her shoulder, the rivalry between them no longer commanding center stage, the Director's scheming rendered meaningless by simple human need.

“God, that hurt,” Rita coughed. “I should have paid more attention when they warned us not to fall in love with a patient.”

“Some patients are worth it … but please don't let Vickie go near this.”

“I won't; I promise. No one in this department … we're not trained for this. Phil … Don … Ian … we're not trained for this. Too many land mines. We need help.”

Marge silently nodded in agreement. The shelters were an avalanche waiting to bury them alive. How were they supposed to liberate Don Phillips from the voices that mocked him in the night?

. . . .

Candy entered the office, and sank to the floor at Ian's side. At a glance, she could tell that he had been stripped bare, nowhere left to which he could run, nowhere left in which to hide.

She reached out for him, pulled him in, cradled him in her arms. She began to rock him, and softly to sing.

A barely remembered lullaby, from deep in her past.

[Babypants]

This scene parallels Aardvark scene 15, but it starts about 30 minutes earlier and should be read first.

[CDfm]

Very enjoyable chapter.  Again it was hard reading about the loss of Ian’s friends and family.  One thing caught my attention about the Viet Nam experience.  You mentioned that there were Cobras providing supporting fire during the battle.  Cobras were a Marine Corps helicopter.  The Army used Huey’s.  I guess this mission could have been supported by the Marines though.

Another thing got my attention, Ian is going to have 4 women breastfeeding him. I have 4 kids and all were breastfed when they were born. Yet I have never tasted any breastmilk.  I have smelled it and it wasn’t all that appealing but reading about Ian actually made me curious about how it really tastes. Well my child bearing years are long over so I guess I will never find out how it tastes. 

[Babypants]

17 hours ago, CDfm said:

I have never tasted any breastmilk.  I have smelled it and it wasn’t all that appealing but reading about Ian actually made me curious about how it really tastes. Well my child bearing years are long over so I guess I will never find out how it tastes. 

Why not give it a try, but only with your eyes wide open?  You can easily purchase breast milk online, although I have read that you have to be cautious about the source.  Milk banks really do carefully police the product to screen out contaminants.  Then there is the question of how it is packaged for shipment.

I urge you to read up on this on line.  There is actually a big market here, although you might be surprised when you find out what is driving it.  

[CDfm]

41 minutes ago, Babypants said:

 

I urge you to read up on this on line.  There is actually a big market here, although you might be surprised when you find out what is driving it.  

Okay so without spending a great deal of time I don’t necessarily have, I do need to ask what is driving it?  You do seem to be well versed. 

[littlebopeeper]

1 hour ago, CDfm said:

Okay so without spending a great deal of time I don’t necessarily have, I do need to ask what is driving it?

Let me have a go at this.  Don't know where things stand today, but about 10 years ago there was a big debate about a female hormone involved in lactating called prolactin.  All men have it, and one study indicated that a low level was a major cause of erectile dysfunction.  After that report came out, for obvious reasons drinking breast milk became really popular really fast with a certain group of guys.  

[CDfm]

Thanks,  I did not know that.  Then I haven’t had any problems like that either. 

[Babypants]

On 8/5/2024 at 11:04 AM, CDfm said:

Okay so without spending a great deal of time I don’t necessarily have, I do need to ask what is driving it?  You do seem to be well versed

Here's my take.  Started in my gym, and then I researched it from there.  Breast milk has acquired a sizable following in the fitness community, and especially among body builders.  There is also a cohort that believes it increases immunity.  The NIH has published on this, and appears to take the position that there is no conclusive evidence to support or deny these claims.