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

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT: an eighteenth tranche, consisting of scenes 50-52, is now up and running on the STORIES page of the site.  Once again, comments have been removed to enable readers to enjoy the story without interruption.  The balance of season 2 will follow.

[littlebopeeper]

Terrific chapter.  The suspense just keeps building and building.  What will happen to Babs, and how will revealing their secrets affect Vickie and Ian, and the people around them?

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

As Priscilla lays the groundwork for an all girl's motorcycle club on Fraternity Row, there are two existing clubs that would welcome a new chapter in Minnesota.  One was founded in 1940, and the other in 1979, our story year.  Which of the following are the two clubs in question:

A.  Femmes Fatales

B.  Leather and Lace

C.  Motor Maids

D.  Stilettos on Steel

E.  The Litas

F.  Women in the Wind

G.  Women on Wheels

 

[littlebopeeper]

On 6/3/2025 at 5:48 PM, Babypants said:

C.  Motor Maids

This is the oldest organization.  Not sure about the other one.

[mushy bottom]

Women in the Wind goes back to 1979.

[Babypants]

On 6/6/2025 at 2:05 PM, littlebopeeper said:

This is the oldest organization.  Not sure about the other one.

 

On 6/8/2025 at 5:30 PM, mushy bottom said:

Women in the Wind goes back to 1979.

Thanks for taking part.  And thanks for your well wishes.  I am especially grateful to Mushy Bottom for keeping me up to date while I was in the hospital and cut off from the site.

[Babypants]

HOMECOMING

I tried so many times and that's no lie,         

It seems to make you laugh each time I try.

Didn't I blow your mind this time? Didn't I?

Priscilla reached out to turn down the volume while simultaneously looking in the rear view mirror. She wanted to make sure that her Mom was still keeping up. Rita's townhome was out in the western suburbs, and the whole of Minneapolis separated it from the sorority house.

“You okay, Babs?”

Pris took another peek in the rear view mirror. Although Priscilla would never have called Babs Patterson a friend, she did know her well. For years, Babs had openly paraded her anger as if it was some kind of perverse badge of honor, but it was gone now. In its place, there was a haunted look on a face staring straight ahead, never flinching.

“Babs?”

“I need this, Pris.” Babs was speaking in a monotone, her voice as dead as the expression on her face. “Whatever happens, don't interfere.”

Joyce reached out to clasp Babs' hand. The policewoman was her responsibility, but she was out of her depth and she knew it. The evening ahead held out nothing for Babs except humiliation and pain, and she seemed to welcome both.

Joyce was having trouble breathing. There was an invisible presence in the car, an unseen monster that only Babs could exorcise. Her mind kept returning to the fence line in Forbidden Planet; the monsters were real, and every child knew it. It was the grownups who lived in a world of illusion.

“What's up with Cindy's new hair style?” Priscilla had decided to change the subject, hoping to banish the monster back to its lair.

“It was popular in the Roaring Twenties.”

Tippi frowned as she turned the volume slightly higher. “Cindy and some of the other girls are going to dress up for the kegger in flapper dresses, and practice the shimmy and the Charleston. Disco seems to be on the way out, so the idea is to roll out a new dance routine at Moby's, and take the place by storm.”

“No more waiting in line, freezing their well diapered butts off?”

“That's the general idea,” Tippi conceded. “And then there's the Bandstand ...”

. . . .

Ten times or more, yes, I've walked out the door.

Get this into your head, there'll be no more.

Didn't I blow your mind this time? Didn't I?

“I really like this song,” Amy murmured.

“Don't know it.” Julia's eyes were glued to the road, and she was working hard to keep up with Pris. They were headed for an upscale part of the western suburbs that she did not know well. Doctors who cheated on their wives were a dime a dozen in this territory, but they did not bring their girlfriends home for a friendly chat with their soonto-be ex-wives.

“The Delfonics,” Vickie commented. She and Suzie were in the back seat. “Voices like silk. Heard them a lot over the years in the airport hotel lounges. Really good for slow dancing.”

“And for seduction,” Suzie added. In their scalp hunting days, Vic and Suzie had both favored groups like the Platters. You couldn't go wrong with Twilight Time.

“I feel like I've driven halfway to South Dakota,” Julia complained. “and I'll have to do it again tomorrow morning. You should plan on tagging along, daughter of mine; we have to take your Dad shopping at the mall … visit a shop that you apparently know well.”

Julia was being circumspect, but she could tell from the look on Vickie's face that she knew they were talking about the maternity shop.

“And how's your diaper holding up?” She abruptly decided to drive the point home.

“Okay for now … and Mom, thanks for switching rides. Priscilla wants to keep Babs close; she's really worried about her. And frankly, so am I.”

“Do you know what it's all about?” Julia kept her voice neutral, but she had known Babs since she first joined the force, and she had barely recognized the young woman who had been sitting in the dining room. Something had sucked the life right out of her.

“I think so … and no, I can't say anything. But I know what Ian's going to do, and unless I chicken out, I'm going to follow his lead. I'm just so tired of running away; I want it over.”

Suzie reached out to grip Vickie's hand. “You won't be alone, Sis; whatever it takes, you won't be alone.”

“Come the Spring, want to take Mom and Dad up on their offer, and learn how to ride a motorcycle?” Vickie was desperate to change the subject.

“I'm thinking about it,” Suzie grinned, knowing exactly what Vic was doing. “After tonight, life on the Row may never be the same again. Just imagine. Police officers offering free lessons on their closed track out in Maple Grove, and all you have to do to qualify is get your house's collective GPA above a 3.0. What an incentive!”

“Suzie's right,” Amy nodded; “at least, to judge from the way Bernice's wayward mob reacted to Sergeant Canon's offer. Maintain a B average, let the pros teach you how to ride responsibly, and you are a motorcycle away from joining the Easy Riders.”

“And Sturgis here I come,” Suzie and Vic simultaneously tossed out, both of them remembering Cindy Carlson jumping to her feet and screaming “I'm in” before treating everyone present to the latest version of the Cindy Shuffle.

“God, how I love my job,” Suzie declared as she gazed out into the darkness. They had come far enough west that the streetlights had given way to stop signs, the road twisting through a pine forest that sheltered some of the most expensive properties in the state. “It's an old house in the heart of the city … a bit run down, but there's so much life inside its walls.”

“The exuberance of youth,” Julia quietly noted as she saw Priscilla signaling to make a turn to the left. The atmosphere inside the sorority's dining room had been electric, the girls becoming more and more visibly excited as the minutes ticked away, drawing them ever closer to that magical moment when it would be time to descend upon the Deltas in force.

Cindy, Kim and Mel would lead the way in their flapper dresses, their hair coiffed in a style that had been waning just as Julia entered her teens. Nineteen at war's end, she had opted to mimic the regal pose of Ingrid Bergman as she undertook the search for a suitable husband. She had met Herb at a USO dance, a Corporal fresh home from the war, looking so dashing in his dress uniform. They had waited for his discharge, and had put off starting a family until Herb had graduated from the Academy.

And Pris is now twenty-eight, and with any luck will be presenting us with a grandchild about the time Herb calls it quits.

Two more left turns put them in a busy cul de sac, and following Pris into one of the driveways, Julia knew that they were home.

. . . .

I gave my heart and soul to you, girl.

Didn't I do it, baby? Didn't I do it, baby?

Gave you a love you never knew, girl, whoa.

Didn't I do it, baby? Didn't I do it, baby?

With the radio playing softly in the background, Ian was hard at work in the kitchen. Rita had assured him that his spanokopita would warm up quite nicely in the microwave without the crust drying out, but it was only when Sofia had arched her eyebrow that he had hastened to follow Rita's lead. Although skeptical of this new technology, he didn't want to cross his future mother-in-law, who was plainly eager to turn his upcoming maintenance spanking into the real deal.

“So, what's the verdict?” Sarah was readying the bread plates, and like Ian, she was a skeptic. Rita's was the only microwave she had ever used, and the leftover pizza had come out with the texture of well worn shoe leather. She was not a fan of this increasingly popular kitchen toy.

“I would prefer to use the oven warmer, but I can't turn the temperature down on the lamb. So, keep your fingers crossed.”

Ian began carving the spanokopita in a crisscross pattern, trying to make the squares more or less equal. When he was finished, he delicately extracted one with his spatula, and slid it onto a plate. Not bothering with utensils, he picked it up and took a bite before offering it to Sarah.

“Yum,” she whispered; “you are most definitely hired. This is sinfully good!”

“Not bad,” Ian decreed after a second bite. “The crust is warm, but the center is a little too moist for my liking. Good flavor, though.”

“Our guests aren't that picky,” Sarah laughed.

“How's the tzatziki faring? Anybody catch on to the secret ingredient?”

“Not yet,” Sarah said as she gleefully shook her head. “It pairs well with the kalamata olives, and as for the retsina? Ian, I swear, I expected this to be rotgut, but it's wonderful! It has more flavor than any white wine I've ever had, and yet it's so light. What a find!”

“And we have a couple of cases,” he mused. “Although with this crowd ...”

“I hear you,” Sarah agreed as Ian continued to fill plate after plate. “Harriet and Francine weren't feeling any pain when they got here, and it looks like Marge and Reiko may have stopped off at a bar on the way over. There are several places in Ridgedale Mall that are quite popular with the ladies on Saturday afternoons.”

Ian had turned away to start piling plates on a serving tray when Sarah reached out to grip him by the shoulder. “Turn and face me,” she commanded.

Puzzled, Ian did what she asked.

Sarah's hand drifted down to attack his trousers, easing them down to his knees. “Time for a diaper check,” she murmured as she pulled his pink baby pants down and began probing inside his diaper. “So wet,” she went on, “but not enough to warrant changing you. We'll do that just before you take out the lamb.”

Ian stood motionless as Sarah began fingering his cock. Without the cage, there was nothing to prevent him from getting hard, and in a matter of moments he was fully erect.

“It looks like someone likes to have his Mommy play with his toy,” she whispered as she leaned forward to kiss him. “That's good, because Mommy loves her baby, and loves her toy.”

“I love you, Mommy,” was all Ian could manage in return as Sarah pushed his cock down and pulled his baby pants back into place, followed by his slacks. He could smell the alcohol on her breath.

Maybe the ouzo isn't such a good idea-- but he kept the thought to himself.

“Now, let's serve our guests,” she finished. “You may share a glass of wine with me, and eat whatever you like, but above all I want you to circulate … make small talk. It will always be like this, Ian; now that Becky and Candy have arrived, there are ten of us, with more on the way. If everyone shows up, there will be twenty women here, and you the only man. Whether this is Paradise or Hell is strictly up to you … but it will always be this way.”

“I understand, Mommy. And I welcome it.”

And before the night is over, you'll understand why …

And I need to talk to Rita, give her a head's up … it's possible that Babs will blow up the same way Don Phillips did … got to be prepared …

With Sarah leading the way, Ian bypassed the dining room table and carried the tray into the living room.

“More goodies,” Reiko called out as she jumped to her feet. She ran up to snatch a plate, with Francie and Harriet hot on her heels.

Sarah offered each a fork, but they all declined.

Reiko bit off a piece of the pastry, and began to chew. Then she rolled her eyes and moaned with pleasure. “Ian, you need your own TV program … 'The Samurai Chef'!”

“And the wine is fantastic,” Francie agreed. “I've never had retsina before! To hell with overpriced, cocktail lounge Chardonnay! Never again!”

Cheers rang out all around the room, and soon the tray was empty. Looking around, Ian spotted Sarah sitting on the floor. She had a glass in her hand, and a plate in her lap. She nodded for him to join her. Excusing himself, Ian scrambled back to the kitchen to grab another bottle of Kourtaki. He topped off a few glasses before sinking to the floor at Sarah's side.

“Thought you were running on empty,” he said as he filled her glass almost to the brim.

“Such a naughty baby,” Sarah mumbled as she began rubbing his crotch in full view of everyone in the room.

“You go girl,” Harriet called out, earning a fresh round of cheers from the assembled throng.

“Carlie, you're awfully quiet,” Rita noted. “When's the last time you had a girls' night out?”

“It's been years,” she replied as she trolled through her memories. “Hong Kong, maybe? When I was in the military police? It was tough duty, and parties like this helped us get through it.”

“Did you have a girlfriend out there?” Ian was genuinely curious. “Oh,” he added, “I should mention that Carlie is a Lesbian.”

“Really?” Francie was suddenly all ears.

“Well,” Carlie smiled, “there was this girl named Mei Ling. “She used to get me off with her toes.”

“What,” Reiko yelled. “No way! You must be kidding!”

“Nope. She was as good with her toes as she was with her tongue … and her tongue was exquisite.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Why,” Francine protested. “Just because we haven't done it doesn't mean it can't be done.” She hiccuped before taking another sip of wine.

“Want to give it a try,” Ian asked.

“Go for it,” Marge urged. Not one for sitting on the floor, she had dragged a chair in from the dining room, and was happily downing olives in between dainty sips of her retsina.

“Won't work,” Francie scowled; my toenails are way too long.”

“Mine aren't,” Carlie quietly rejoined. She was openly staring at Francie, daring her.

“What? Right here?”

“Typical Saturday night fare at one of our frolics.” Sarah's fingers were still idly exploring Ian's crotch, and he wasn't going anywhere.

“Pretty tame stuff compared to Thursday night at The Pig Sty,” Rita dryly observed. She took another sip of retsina, which she concluded could become quite habit forming.

“Think of it as light entertainment for the masses,” Becky put in. “A diversion from the usual male stripper that Rita books.”

“Wow!” Harriet was wide-eyed. “You guys really know how to party!”

“Who's getting spanked tonight?” Candy was a little vague about the program, and the retsina wasn't helping. She paused to take a healthy bite from a piece of pita bread, hoping that the creamy taste of the tzatziki would offset the retsina's kick.

Watching Candy munching away, Ian couldn't help but grin. A breast milk cookbook was beginning to look like a real winner-- and he owed Rita and Sofia a big hug for keeping the secret ingredient to themselves.

Ian caught Sofia's eye; she was also chewing away, and she offered him an ironic salute with the half eaten piece of bread in her hand, the tzatziki glistening in the firelight.

Damn, but I'm starting to like this woman. Who'da thunk it?

“Ian is down for his weekly maintenance spanking,” Sofia explained for Candy's benefit.  "I would like to do the honors, but Victoria has drawn the assignment. It's a tutorial of sorts-- for two of the sorority girls.”

“Then Vickie will be going over my knee,” Sarah went on. “Another maintenance spanking before we get to the main event-- a policewoman who made a bet with Ian on Thursday night, and lost. She behaved very badly, hence this will be a punishment spanking … a harsh one.”

“Who … who is going to spank her?” Harriet was searching for words, and failing badly. She had heard of parties like this, heard about the kinky games that the wealthy and bored liked to play, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she would be attending one. She had been raised in a traditional family, and she had graduated from a deeply conservative Catholic high school. She attended Mass regularly, and she wanted to marry a nice Catholic boy who would give her children and keep his many mistresses out of the public eye. Ian Grady was her fantasy come to life.

And now he's going to be spanked! In front of all these women? And what is a maintenance spanking, anyway?

“Vickie is our resident expert, so if her hand holds up, she'll make this a memorable evening.”

“Leave Vickie out of it.”

Ian's tone was so commanding that half a dozen heads turned as one. Rita and her colleagues in the Psych ward had never seen this side of his personality. It was as if Clark Kent had stepped into the telephone booth and, but a moment later, Superman had emerged.

“Let Joyce do it; Babs trusts her.” Ian's tone again made it clear that this was an order, not a request.

Watching him, Sofia nodded. Her future son-in-law was not one man but two, and instinct and experience alike told her that this was the genuine article. The submissive persona that he hid behind was like a suit of clothes that he could put on and take off at will.

“Does this have something to do with what happened this morning?” Sarah pulled her hand away.

“It does,” Ian confirmed, reaching out to pat Sarah's thigh in a gesture of reassurance. “Rita, I need to talk to you and Carlie in private. Vickie and Priscilla will be back soon, and we need to do this before they get here.”

“Let's adjourn to the bedroom,” Rita suggested as she got up to lead the way. Carlie stared at Ian for a very long moment, seeking clues as to what this was all about, but he was stone faced. Shrugging, she followed Rita down the hall, leaving Ian to follow slowly in her wake.

“I'm not sure how this is going to play out tonight,” he began as he shut the door behind them. “I'm not even sure of my facts, and in Babs' case it's all rooted in guesswork. But I want both of you to be prepared for things to go badly off the rails. Rita, this could be Don Phillips all over again.”

“A patient in our Psych ward,” Rita elaborated, knowing that the name would mean nothing to Carlie. “Ian got inside his defenses, and he became violent. One of our orderlies had to take him down.”

“And you think Babs might blow?” Carlie nodded to herself as she began to put the pieces together.

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense. Ian, I don't know what happened yesterday, but you shook Babs up really badly. When I tossed her underwear and locked her out of her apartment en route to the sorority? She didn't object; she just stood there, silent as a statue. There was no fight in her; it was like she was sleepwalking.”

“She's hurting, Carlie. Damn it, she's hurting badly!”

“You think I don't know it? She's been my partner for the last three years! Of course I know it … but what am I supposed to do? Tell her that she's a head case and needs to go see the Department shrink? It doesn't work that way, Ian. She has to seek help, or have a bad incident report serve as the trigger. It's all in the union contract.”

“What are you going to do, Ian?” Rita kept her voice low, afraid that things in the room were beginning to spiral out of control

“That wall I'm hiding behind, Rita? Well, guess what … there's a second wall behind the first, and I started building it when I was nine years old. And tonight, it's coming down. No more running away; I am going to take a fucking sledgehammer to that wall, and demolish it. And maybe, just maybe, Vickie and Babs will take sledgehammers to their walls as well. It's the only way any of us can get control of our lives … the only way.”

“Does Vic know what you're going to do?”

“Yes. She knows the whole of it. It's my breakthrough moment, Rita, and Vic's good with it.”

“All right … all right. Here's what we're going to do … at least … Ian, I take it that we'll know when you're lighting the fuse?”

“Oh, there won't be any doubt.” Ian's laugh was bitter. “No doubt whatsoever.”

“Carlie, I want you seated in a chair, somewhere to Babs' right. I'll be sitting off to her left. If she explodes, we'll have to box her in. Then we take her down and keep her down until the hysterics pass and she begins to sob. That's when we let go. If this is what I think it is, Candy will take over. She's good, Carlie; believe me, she deals with this week in and week out, and she's good.”

“Deals with what, Rita?” Carlie was pleading for enlightenment.

“Abuse, Carlie … child abuse. That's her specialty.”

. . . .

I thought that heart of yours was true, girl.

Didn't I think it, baby? Didn't I think it, baby?

But this time I'm really leavin' you girl, whoa.

I hope you know it, baby. I hope you know it, baby.

“There's no alcohol in the house, and your wife told me that coffee's off limits until breakfast. So, Sergeant, it's juice, water, or a soft drink; you by any chance a Dr. Pepper man?”

“I'll take a ginger ale if you've got one,” Herb decided.

“Coming right up,” Bernice smiled. They were sitting in the kitchen, the radio playing in the background, and while she was busy with the soda Herb nudged the volume a bit higher.

“Haven't heard this song in years,” he said, making conversation. “When Pris went off to college, Julia and I were at loose ends for the first time since she was born. We didn't know what else to do, so we went back to the beginning. Eating out, going dancing … I guess you could call it a second courtship. It was fun.”

“Like renewing your marriage vows.” Bernice slowly poured the ginger ale into a tall glass, and slid it across the table. “And now you have a loving wife and two beautiful daughters who are going the extra mile to help you cope with an enlarged prostate. You're a lucky man, Sergeant.”

“Please, call me Herb.”

“And I'm Bernice. Now that we've got that out of the way, I suppose I should ask whether you'd actually be willing to help out with the Deltas. Things do tend to spin out of control whenever one of the houses hosts a kegger. Suzie wasn't exaggerating about the drunk and disorderlies.”

“This is Walt Mischof's turf; how does the Chief like to handle it?”

“The occasional drive-by early in the evening, but after eleven a cruiser comes by two or three times an hour. If the party looks like it's moving outside, the officer will stop and try and herd the animals back into the corral. What we're all trying to avoid is a public disturbance. Walt overlooks a lot, but that's where he draws the line.”

“So, you and Suzie want me to stroll casually down the street, and drag the girls back to the house if they take it outside. But this is the dead of winter. Surely ...”

“They'll be drunk, Herb; young and drunk. It's a dangerous combination.”

“And this will go on until …?”

“One … two at the latest. By then, everyone should have passed out.”

“And as long as they're inside, just leave them where they lay. Okay … got it. Now, I guess we're down to the last item on the agenda, which is what I'm going to wear to bed.”

“We both know why you're here, Herb, but it's your call. The guest bedroom has it's own facilities, but if you so choose, I can help you without getting embarrassed. I've changed so many diapers this week that I'm beginning to feel like Robby the Robot.”

“One of my heroes,” Herb laughed as the memories came flooding back. “Pris was five, and resented being left with a babysitter. So, we took her with us when we went to the movies. This one scared her so badly that she came to bed with us that night … slept between us. She was convinced that the monster was hiding under the bed.”

“You should be proud of your daughter. Oh, we tease her … call her the Batgirl, but the reality is that she has handled our shenanigans with real finesse. Walt hates losing her, although his respect for Ian is off the charts.”

“Your adoptive son.”

“My adopted son,” Bernice agreed. “Something else for us to work out-- where and when to conduct the adoptions.”

“Julia wants us to get a handle on the guest list. I've got maybe seventy friends on the force to invite; I'll leave it to you to deal with this side of things. Any ideas about the hospital?”

“I'll talk to Rita, but I'll be shocked if the number is less than two hundred. Vickie has a lot of friends and well wishers.”

“So we need to think big … maybe something like a ballroom, or a hotel that handles large weddings. Speaking of which, we should try and get it done before the wedding.”

“Works for me. Now, back to the matter at hand.” Bernice looked at him expectantly.

“Right,” Herb sighed. “I'm dragging my feet, but there's no getting around this. I'm having problems at work, and my bladder is far more unpredictable in cold weather. We should do this before I start wandering the streets, but … uh … what are we going to do if I have an accident out there?”

“Not to worry. Herb, I really love these girls, and I worry about them whenever they run off to do something stupid-- and that's a weekly event. I won't be going to bed until you tell me that they're okay, so if it comes to it, I'll change your diaper. We have plenty, so it's not a big deal.”

“Then let's do it. I do not want to humiliate myself in public … let's do it.”

. . . .

“Reinforcements,” Reiko called out as Priscilla and Julia walked in together with their guests in tow. It was left for Vickie to perform the introductions, since she was the only person who knew everyone present.

Ian slipped quietly back into the kitchen, but not before doing a quick head count.

Eighteen women, I'm the only man, and I'm good with it. I should be freaking out, parading my insecurities like a runaway freight train, but I'm good with it. What a wake up call …

“Pita bread's flying off the table, we're just about out of tzatziki, and Mom's playing bartender. At last count, we've already gone through seven bottles.”

Sarah nuzzled Ian on the back of his neck, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “You make me so happy.”

“Back at you,” he said as he reached down to caress her hands. “Can you get Tippi something to drink while I warm up the next batch of spanokopita? Anything soft will do.”

“Consider it done. Is the lamb almost ready?”

“Twenty more in the oven, and five on the rack. Time to get the rice underway, and we'll get the salads rolled out in ten.”

“Yes, Sir! And I'd salute if my hands weren't otherwise engaged! But first? The nursery! The chef needs his diaper changed!”

. . . .

“Okay, we have arrived at the moment of truth,” Bernice calmly observed. “In the immortal words of Elvis Presley, 'It's Now or Never'.”

Herb and Bernice had moved to the guest room, where she had set out one of the Lullaby diapers and a pair of vinyl pants atop the bed. Bottles of baby powder and lotion leaned against one of the pillows, which harbored four diaper pins with locking heads. Bernice had learned the hard way that baby pants did not fare well when a diaper pin popped open.

“You need to take off everything except your socks and undershirt,” she went on; “do you want me to give you some privacy? Maybe hide in the bathroom, with the door closed?”

“Uh, yeah … yeah, I think that would probably be a good idea,” Herb blushed.

Waiting until the door clicked shut, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Feeling like an over the hill male stripper, he hesitantly took it off and draped it over a nearby chair.

Only thing missing is the music. For sure, Julia would have the stereo cranked to the max …

Herb kicked off his shoes, and left them where they lay.

Fuck, man, Julia's the only woman who's ever seen you completely naked. Even when I was in for the appendectomy …

Getting a firm grip, he lowered his pants and underpants in one continuous, jerky motion. But he had to sit on the side of the bed to work them over his ankles … sit right there, next to the diaper. It was staring at him, reproaching him for the loss of his manhood.

“I guess I'm ready,” he called out. “Let's get this over with.”

Bernice walked out of the bathroom, trying to be casual.

“Your pubic hair is a moisture trap,” she pointed out, hoping that a clinical approach would take the edge off what had to be the most humiliating moment in Herb Canon's life. “Some of the girls came down with a diaper rash in less than forty-eight hours. You should think about getting rid of it. If you don't have a razor in your bag, I can get you one.”

“I … I think I'll pass, but thank you for asking. Besides, I wouldn't want Julia to miss out on all the fun.”

“Point well taken,” Bernice smiled, still trying to put him at ease. “What I'd like you to do is lay down on the diaper, then roll over on your stomach. Do you use a skin moisturizer?”

“On my hands, several times a day. Started a few years ago, when my knuckles started bleeding in mid-January.”

“You and me both. Cold weather, dry skin ...”

“Yeah … when I retire, I'm hoping that we can sit out January and February in Florida or Arizona. Graduate to suntan lotion ...”

“You going to oil the caboose,” Herb asked as he rolled over.

“A little lotion first, then some powder … still the best defense against diaper rash.”

Bernice got to work, repeatedly telling herself that this was no different than readying a pork roast for the oven. She was thorough, yet kept her distance from Herb's anal opening. There were just some things she was not willing to do.

“Now for the other side,” she announced, stepping back while he flipped over onto the diaper. “No point in using the lotion,” she concluded, “not with all this pubic hair. It would just cake, so we'll make do with the powder. I'll sprinkle it on, but I want you to spread it around. If you miss a spot, I'll guide you to it.”

“Thanks, Bernice.” Herb looked up into her eyes, his relief and gratitude evident. “It's very considerate of you.”

Nodding in approval when Herb finished up, she positioned the diaper, then explained why she was using the four pin method. When she was finished, Bernice handed him the vinyl pants. Still lying down, he pulled them into place, but she placed a hand on his chest to prevent him from getting up.

“Let me check to make sure there's no cloth peeking out. That's a leak waiting to happen.”

As Bernice ran her fingers around the thigh bands, Herb couldn't help but chuckle.

“Ticklish,” she asked.

“No. I remember Julia telling me the exact same thing the first time I changed Pris. It's funny the tricks that one's memory can play.”

“Want to try walking around a bit before you put your pants on … get the feel of it?”

“No time like the present.” Herb stood up, and walked back and forth across the room.

“Feels strange, but not near as bad as that damned maxi pad Julia had me try last night.”

“It's funny,” Bernice laughed, “but several of the girls made similar comments. Some of them plan to continue using diapers to manage their periods even when this is all over and done with.”

“Makes sense. But you know what's weird? I'm actually glad that Julia got me to try the pad last night. It's really opened my eyes to what you ladies have to deal with. If I'd done this thirty years ago, I would have been a lot more supportive.”

“What did you do?

“Hid out in the garage.”

Bernice laughed so hard that she had to dry her eyes.

“Okay,” she finally managed to say, “pants and shoes next, then your shirt. Walk around the house, and use the stairs. Let your body and your new underwear get acquainted with one another.”

Two more years, Herb kept telling himself as he followed Bernice's instructions.

Two more years …

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT: a nineteenth tranche, consisting of scenes 53-55, is now up and running on the STORIES page of the site.  Once again, comments have been removed to enable readers to enjoy the story without interruption.  The balance of season 2 will follow.

[littlebopeeper]

Love it.  Herb's struggle to deal with the onset of incontinence in middle age is the most realistic account of it I have ever read in stories here.  Wonder how many other members have gone through this. 

[Babypants]

Herb's misery is taken from real life.  Yesterday, my wife was driving in heavy rain in Missouri.  She needed to pee, but not wanting to get drenched, she held on and kept driving.  But the rain never let up, and when she finally gave in and stopped at a truck stop in Cameron, her bladder let go the moment she got out of the car and stood up. It's happened before, and at age 65 will probably happen again.  It's a commonplace experience among the middle aged and elderly. 

[littlebopeeper]

On 6/27/2025 at 10:27 AM, Babypants said:

It's a commonplace experience among the middle aged and elderly. 

I've been there.  Twenty years ago, on long drives and long flights.  Toss in an enlarged prostate, and you're on the slippery slope to full incontinence.

[mushy bottom]

Love the slow build up.  Looks like the moment of truth for Babs, Ian and Vickie is just ahead.

[Babypants]

Quickie entertainment quiz:

Playing in the background of this scene, the Delfonics' Didn't I is featured in what Quentin Tarantino film:

A.  Reservoir Dogs

B.  Jackie Brown

C.  Pulp Fiction

[littlebopeeper]

On 7/2/2025 at 9:58 AM, Babypants said:

B.  Jackie Brown

It's B for sure.  Max and Jackie's song.

[CDfm]

I missed this new chapter. I kept seeing new notifications but every time I looked it was just another comment. 
I enjoyed this chapter. The party sounds like it is going to be very fun and interesting. Herb is definitely a bigger man than I am. I doubt that I would ever allow a stranger to diaper me. I am looking forward to seeing more. 
I haven’t asked lately but I hope you are recovering well. I do think about you and pray for the best. 

[Babypants]

20 hours ago, CDfm said:

Herb is definitely a bigger man than I am. I doubt that I would ever allow a stranger to diaper me.

The stroke landed me in two emergency rooms, and three hospitals.  In both emergency rooms they were too busy running tests to worry about my underwear, so I was wearing a Molicare when I was admitted and sent to a ward.  The staff insisted that I wear the flimsiest pull ups imaginable, and they changed me during the wellness checks every three hours, and when I buzzed for them in between.  It was not a big deal.  The third unit was a stroke rehabilitation ward, and the same routine until the last three days.  By then I could walk around unassisted, and had some use of my right hand (my right side was paralyzed in the beginning),so they stopped the wellness checks and let me wear my own diapers.   At night I would spread out my Bambino Bellissimo, lay down and powder myself, then pull the diaper into place.  Then a nurse would come in and do the tapes.  They taught me a neat trick: inhale,then exhale and squeeze your abdominal muscles for a count of three.  They apply the tapes one by one, and you get a very secure fit.

Some of the staff were interested in the diaper, and so I ended up singing its praises.  We all laughed about the cheap, shoddy pull ups they were using, but we all know how cheap hospitals are when it comes to patient care.  Everybody who changed me, both male and female, was thoroughly professional, and the therapists worked hard to get me to bathe and change my diapers without assistance.  When I left the hospital, I was self-reliant, and in no small part because I was working with real pros.

So my advice would be to wear what you need, and rely on professionals to behave professionally.  I have tried to convey a sense of this professionalism in the scene with Herb and Bernice.  

[CDfm]

My experience with being diapered in the hospital wasn’t as good as yours. I was forced to use theirs and they didn’t work very well. They did come and change me regularly but there were several times when I leaked. They were good about changing the sheets as well but I know I would have been better off with my own diapers. When I asked if my daughter could bring some of mine I was told no. 

[Babypants]

9 hours ago, CDfm said:

My experience with being diapered in the hospital wasn’t as good as yours. I was forced to use theirs and they didn’t work very well. They did come and change me regularly but there were several times when I leaked. They were good about changing the sheets as well but I know I would have been better off with my own diapers. When I asked if my daughter could bring some of mine I was told no.

Our experiences sound very much the same, except that I buzzed them to come and change the pull up before I leaked.  It wasn't until my last three nights out of seventeen that they cleared me to wear my own diapers.  What I really fought hard to end was the wellness checks at 23:30, 02:30 and 05:30.  Poor sleep prevented me from maxing therapy during the daytime.  Hospitals are the last place on earth to go if you need rest!

[littlebopeeper]

On 7/7/2025 at 12:56 AM, CDfm said:

My experience with being diapered in the hospital wasn’t as good as yours. I was forced to use theirs and they didn’t work very well.

 

22 hours ago, Babypants said:

Our experiences sound very much the same, except that I buzzed them to come and change the pull up before I leaked.  It wasn't until my last three nights out of seventeen that they cleared me to wear my own diapers.  What I really fought hard to end was the wellness checks at 23:30, 02:30 and 05:30.  Poor sleep prevented me from maxing therapy during the daytime.  Hospitals are the last place on earth to go if you need rest!

A very informative exchange.  Hope its being widely read.

[Babypants]

On 6/30/2025 at 12:22 PM, mushy bottom said:

Love the slow build up.  Looks like the moment of truth for Babs, Ian and Vickie is just ahead.

I am still editing the next scene, as well as the Delta kegger scene in Aardvark.  With both approaching 10,000 words in length, I need to cut them into more manageable chunks like I did with the Pig Sty scene.  I hope to post the first part of each of these very long scenes in the next day or two.  Please be patient.

[Babypants]

CHILDHOOD'S END, PART 1

“Emily! Hi! Long time, no see,” Ian said as he braked to a halt coming out of the bedroom.

“Ian! Hi! I swear … you don't look a day older than the last time we met!”

Noting that Sarah appeared completely lost, Sofia decided to take pity on her daughter. “Sarah, this is Emily Carlson … Cindy's mom. The four of us hooked up at the mall earlier today.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Emily smiled as she stepped forward to shake Sarah's hand. “And Andrew and I would like to invite you and your entire household to dinner, but we'll leave it to you to choose the date.”

“I told her that Friday would be the earliest we would all have the night off,” Rita cut in. “And that reminds me; Manny and I put our heads together, and we've penciled in the 'diaper your favorite nurse auction' for Tuesday at three, in the cafeteria. He's going to rig a bank of telephones so that third shift can join in the fun, and I'm going to invite the press, starting with our friend Emmett Bailey. After what he saw at The Pig Sty on Thursday night, it's a given that he'll show up-- and there's a good chance he'll have us on the air at five.”

“Is Manny going to run this by the Directors?” Sarah suspected that the Board would not welcome this sort of publicity.

“Gayle is going to be our auctioneer; she'll make sure that everyone's good with the program.”

“Gayle Soderberg?” Emily was blown away by the coincidence.

“You know her?” Rita was equally surprised.

“Not at all. But she's going to mentor Cindy in the candy striper program. It sounds like my little girl will be doing meet and greets-- escorting patients to their rooms, helping them get settled in, that sort of thing. Who knows? She may even entertain them with the latest version of the Cindy Shuffle.”

“Cindy will boost everyone's morale,” Ian observed, “because she's the ultimate people person. And Tippi, I don't know what you're majoring in, but you have a first class mind, and working with Sarah means that you're going to walk out of this hospital with first class management skills already in place.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Tippi blushed. Over the years, her parents had been stingy with their praise but generous with their criticism. Compliments had been few and far between.

“How about you, Joyce? What's your assignment?”

Tippi and Joyce were the only sorority girls present, and Ian was making a conscious effort not to play favorites. He marveled at Bernice's ability to run the house with an even hand.

“Fifth floor … oncology,” Joyce replied.

“Physically challenging,” Sarah offered. “A long corridor … primarily outpatient, with a steady turnover. But on the plus side, your shift will fly by. Three hours will feel like thirty minutes.”

“Ian, I dug into my Mom's cookbook, and I found a couple of recipes that might interest you. One's for clam chowder, and the other for cornbread.”

Emily passed Ian two sheets of paper; she had written the instructions out by hand.

“And I really like the way the tzatziki turned out. I thought the breast milk would make it too sweet, but not so. Plain yogurt needs all the help it can get.”

“Wait a second,” Harriet barked; “are you serious? You made this with breast milk?” She still had a small dollop of the tzatziki on her plate.

“Yep.”

“And for breakfast,” Tippi smiled, “we're having breast milk biscuits and pancakes. Dad's into nouveau cuisine.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Ian.” Amy took another bite of spanokopita. “This is seriously good.”

“Greek salad's up next … a palate cleanser while we give the lamb a few minutes to breathe. And I need to check the rice,” he added as he hustled into the kitchen.

“If you're not familiar with some of the ingredients,” Sofia explained as she took over for Ian, we've got tomato, cucumber, red onion, kalamata olives, banana peppers and feta cheese. You dress it with a mix of olive oil and red wine vinegar.”

She reached for a salad bowl and got to work, drawing upon decades of experience hosting formal dinners to make the operation go smoothly.

“Here's a useful trick,” Ian yelled. “Put the olive oil on your bread plate, lace it with the vinegar, and then use a small piece of the pita bread to mix it together. One bite should tell you whether you're good to go, or need to play around with it. Once you're happy with the flavor profile, the salad awaits!”

“Let me at it,” Vickie shouted as she rushed to the table. “I love playing with my food!”

“Olive oil on top of breast milk?” Harriet had her doubts.

“Not to worry,” Sarah nonchalantly remarked; “Mom and I spent an hour prepping the bathrooms. There's toilet paper galore, and if worst comes to worst … diapers and vinyl pants for all!”

“Come on Harry, where's your sense of adventure?” Francie got in line behind Vic. “I want to change Priscilla's diaper again! Let's have fun!”

“She's also overdue for a spanking,” Julia just as casually remarked. “But we haven't worked out the details yet. Would you like to put her over your knee?”

“I'd love it!!!” Francie was so excited that she was hopping from one foot to the other, the Kourtaki reinforcing the Valpolicella and Galliano that she had downed during lunch. Spanking was her favorite kind of foreplay.

“And we're gonna have a 'spank your favorite policewoman auction' on Fraternity Row,” Joyce tossed out. “Aunt Priscilla is helping us raise money for the scholarship fund, which is in bad shape.”

“Hmmm.” Emily frowned; “what do you think, Suz? Should we drop by the hospital on Tuesday afternoon? Take in the action?”

“See how the pros do it?” Suzie pretended to weigh the pros and cons. “Maybe pick up a few useful tips? Sure. Why not?”

“I'll swing by and pick you up at two thirty. If Cindy starts bidding, I want to be there to limit the damage to my checkbook, which is a bit anemic after our trip to the mall.”

“Ah, the life of a sorority mom.” Suzie peeked at her watch, wondering whether she should call Bernice for an update.

“It's too early,” Emily declared, reading Suzie's mind.

“You're right,” Suzie conceded; “besides, tonight Sergeant Canon is walking the beat!”

. . . .

"How many years has it been,” Herb asked himself as he walked slowly up the sidewalk in the direction of the Delta house. “I caught the duty downtown, but that was what? Twenty years ago?”

He was taking his time, determined not to slip and fall on the treacherous surface. But he was also wiggling his hips, trying to come to terms with the first diaper that he had worn since he was a toddler.

How can the damn thing simultaneously pinch my nuts yet make me spread my legs? I must look fucking ridiculous …

Herb debated walking up to the door and pounding on it until someone answered. The stereo was driving him nuts, and he was dead certain that it could be heard a block away.

But if the neighbors aren't complaining …

Herb kept reminding himself that this was Walt Mischof's beat, and that any action on his part might endanger a peace agreement painfully negotiated by the two parties years in the past. As he watched, a body came flying out a third floor window, to land head first in the hard packed snow. The body was clearly female, naked and not moving. Herb rushed up the driveway to render assistance, a man now standing at the window, pissing in a steady stream.

“MISSED,” he screamed; “I FUCKING MISSED!!”

Herb belatedly realized that the creep was targeting the woman, who had still not moved and appeared to be badly injured, or worse.

“My turn,” he thought he heard someone else yell.

A fresh face appeared in the light, and as Herb awkwardly climbed over the snow bank edging the driveway, more pee began to rain down, the snow here and there taking on a yellowish tinge.

“POLICE!” Herb was screaming at the top of his lungs, but he doubted whether anyone in the house could hear him. Inching his way forward, the snow clawing at him and trying to suck him down, he finally made it to …

A mannequin … a fucking department store mannequin!

“Hey, man, get the fuck away from Marilyn! Leave her alone!! There's lots of pussy in the house … help yourself!”

As if to emphasize the point, a beer can came sailing through the window to land near his feet. The contents spilled out, adding still more color to the once white snow.

A searchlight suddenly pierced the darkness. Shielding his eyes with his hand, Herb spun around to locate the source. A car was gliding to a stop at the curb, and as the strobe lights came on, the searchlight began to sweep the front of the house. Up on the third floor, the lights went out …

The culprits no doubt fleeing the scene …

The searchlight returned, hovering over the beer can for a moment before settling on the mannequin. Then the light blinked out.

Get on the horn to dispatch … notify them that you are exiting the vehicle … call for back up … come on … come on!!

A uniformed officer climbed out of the vehicle, and walked slowly up the driveway. He came to a halt when he was abreast of Herb, but made no effort to scale the snow bank. The two men stared at one another for a long moment.

“Sergeant Canon?”

“In the flesh, Roland; in the flesh.”

Abandoning his vigil over the mannequin, Herb slowly retraced his steps across the field of snow.

“Thought so, but wasn't sure. Never seen you in civvies before. What brings you out on a night like this?”

“I'm staying over at one of the sororities,” Herb explained as he crawled across the berm. “Bernice Miller and Suzie Marshall asked me to keep an eye on things … try and keep their girls out of trouble.”

“Makes sense.” Roland Stark nodded to himself. “Miss Marshall has worn out her welcome in the Dean's office, and Cindy Carlson and her friends have already got two strikes on their record. Diapers or no diapers, one more screw up and odds are they'll end up back in jail. By the way, how's Marilyn holding up?”

“Marilyn?”

Roland nodded at the mannequin.

Herb simply shook his head. What was there to say?

“Every kegger, the Deltas use her for target practice. Suppose we could cite them for public indecency, but the Chief's pretty forgiving. Don't know about the beer can, though. Want me to bag it for the evidence locker? We could be looking at aggravated assault.”

“The charge would never stick. The can was open, and by now it's probably empty.”

“That's a shame. We don't want to cite these kids, never mind run them in. The easiest way to keep the lid on after midnight is to read them the riot act at nine or ten. Too bad Pris didn't catch the duty; she's got the drill down pat.”

“Pris and her mom are attending a party in the western suburbs. They're trying to get a handle on how many people at the hospital will show up when we adopt Doctor Vickie Robinson. Bernice and Suzie Marshall are helping me put the Fraternity Row guest list together. I've been led to believe that Vickie is a celebrity on the Row.”

“That's putting it mildly. Suzie and Vickie are legendary figures around here … two of the all-time great scalp hunters.”

“Scalp hunters?”

“Sorority girls who seduce male faculty.”

“Hmmm. Wonder if they put that in their resumes.”

“Well, to be a successful scalp hunter does require initiative.”

“I'll bet. So, should we go pound on the door … get whoever answers to come out and collect Marilyn?”

“Nah. We don't intervene until someone brings the party outside. We urge them to go back inside. If they don't cooperate, they're looking at a drunk and disorderly. Passing out in a holding cell beats passing out in a snowbank every time.”

“How often do you drive by?"

“At this hour? Every thirty minutes.”

“I can walk around during the interval. Try and steer people back inside, or escort girls back to Bernice's if they're partied out.”

“Sounds like a plan. Just don't get physical. Wait for me to show up and do the honors.”

. . . .

“Ian, if you ever decide to give up teaching and open a restaurant, Andrew and I will back you financially. This was easily,” Emily added, “the best lamb dish that I have ever had in this country, and it would hold its own against what we ate in upscale restaurants in both Greece and Jordan.”

“Here, here,” Julia chimed in. “And the baklava is to die for. My friend Frida Spanos gives us a tray at Thanksgiving every year; it's homemade and off the charts, but yours is better. You are a fantastic cook.”

“The dining room will remain open,” Ian replied, “but the time has come for us to celebrate friendship and merry making Greek style with ouzo in hand. So, everyone grab a glass and pour a shot; Tip, you'll have to settle for ginger ale. Then we gather around the fireplace; I'll lead the way.”

The flames were licking a good-sized log, warming the party goers as they gathered round the hearth. Ian emptied his glass in one gulp, shouted “opa” at the top of his lungs, then threw the glass into the fire; it shattered on impact.

Not to be outdone, Vickie took Ian's place, and a second glass soon joined the first. She was big on drinking games, and found this one very much to her liking.

One by one, the ladies stepped up, cries of “opa” ringing out over and over again as glass after glass shattered in the flames. The atmosphere inside Rita's living room, already relaxed, became still more convivial as alcohol and good food worked their magic on the throng.

“Before the next round,” Sarah announced, “Ian wants to put his weekly maintenance spanking in the rear view mirror. Vickie will do the honors, but what Vic and Ian are really doing is putting on a tutorial for Tippi, and for anyone else here who wants to up her game. When it comes to spanking, Vic is a pro, so this is your chance to learn from the best.”

Rita dragged an armless chair into the middle of the living room, and Vickie took her seat. She placed a towel on her lap, and beckoned Ian to step forward. It took her but a couple of moments to lower his trousers and vinyl pants, but she did not unpin his diaper until he was over her knee. The diaper was damp, but the towel would keep it away from Vickie's pants.

“The first rule,” Vickie began as she massaged Ian's buttocks, “is never to spank pale, cold flesh. Give your submissive a gentle massage; you want to get the blood flowing so that the whole rear end has a nice, rosy glow. It's only when the nerves are in play that a spanking is effective. Second, since there is little physically to separate erotic and maintenance spankings, your mindset is critical to the outcome. The line is easily crossed if you are turned on before you even begin, so don't. You need to be cool, calm and collected, and to this end you should pace your strokes, with the tenth stroke delivered to the fleshy part of a butt cheek or the top of the thighs indistinguishable from the first.”

Vickie began to warm Ian's rear end with a series of well placed blows, never varying either the intensity or the tempo.

“Note that I am staying far away from both Ian's spine and his kidneys. Any spanking, even an erotic one, can cause serious damage in these areas, so another rule of thumb is never to deliver a spanking when you are angry. You want to correct bad behavior, not injure your partner. I want Ian to know that he is being spanked, but if he cries out it means that I'm laying it on too thick. Tippi, any questions?”

“No. Everything's good so far.”

“Joyce, how about you?”

“You're preaching to the choir. Every spanking is an act of love; if you get an emotional high from hurting your partner, you need to back off.”

“Well put. So, later tonight, when you give Babs a punishment spanking?”

“She's earned it, and it's going to hurt. But in a very real sense, it will be an act of catharsis. She wants this, and in truth needs it. But if anyone here thinks I'm going to enjoy this, think again.”

Having given Ian's thighs her full attention, Vickie decided to finish up by playing pattycake on Ian's butt cheeks. She used the fingers of her right hand, sharp blows raining down in rapid succession, each landing in the exact same spot. At the end, she once again massaged the flesh that had drawn her attention.

With his diaper once again pinned in place, Ian awkwardly got back on his feet, leaving it to Vickie to pull up his baby pants and trousers. When she was finished, the two of them retreated to the makeshift bar to get the second round of ouzo underway.

. . . .

As he paced the sidewalk, to his considerable surprise Herb had plenty of company. He had assumed that everyone attending the kegger would get there early, if only to help themselves to the free beer. In point of fact, in twos and threes young men and women were exiting the houses in a steady stream, and while most were headed for the kegger, some were campus bound. It made him wonder whether there was a sports event on the menu, maybe a basketball game in the dual purpose arena.

Preferring to remain anonymous, Herb ignored the curious looks directed his way, but his luck ran out when he was braced by two guys in white tuxedo jackets. He had to flash his badge to ward off Stan Carmichael, who introduced himself as the president of Lamda house. Herb made it clear that he was there at the request of Bernice Miller and Suzie Marshall, who wanted the party to remain indoors, and that he would also help any of the girls get home if they were unable to manage on their own. For the rest, what happened in the house was not really his concern.

Time dragged, passing far too slowly for Herb's liking, but he maintained his vigil, striding up and down the sidewalk in a vain attempt to keep warm, yet never allowing the house out of his line of sight. He thought about retreating, beseeching Bernice for a cup of coffee or at least a hot chocolate, but he resisted the urge. Then suddenly, his bladder made its presence known, the urge to pee coming out of nowhere and growing stronger by the second. He started down the sidewalk, but he had only gone a few steps when the floodgates opened, and hot pee began to fill his diaper. He stopped in midstride, wetting a diaper for the first time since early childhood.

What to do?

Herb thought about it as he felt the heat fade and a clammy wetness take its place. If he went back to the house, Bernice would change him-- and then what? Call it a night and leave the girls to their own devices? Or return to his post, and possibly wet himself a second time? Since there was little to choose between a wet diaper and a wet bathing suit, Herb decided to soldier on. He would return to the house only if he wet a second time, acting on the presumption that the diaper could handle two downpours but not a third.

Time marched on, the wet diaper clinging to his skin, but he could deal with it. He wondered how Cindy and her friends were faring, but he also wondered how Julia and Priscilla were faring at Rita's party. He hoped that they were having a good time, but equally he hoped that Julia would stick to the plan and get a sense of how many of Vickie's colleagues would be attending her adoption.

. . . .

“Now it's Vickie's turn,” Sarah intoned as she took her seat after a second round of ouzo had come and gone. “This will also be a maintenance spanking. I gave Vic a punishment spanking a few days ago, and she was so turned on that at the end she was begging me to use my fingers to make her come. She has been spanked in the bedroom so many times over the years that her brain interprets a hard paddling as foreplay.”

“Then how do you punish her,” Suzie asked.

“A wholesale change in her lifestyle. Despite what you're seeing tonight, we're all cutting back on the alcohol, and we're all celibate. No sex outside the household. Plus, Ian is introducing Vic to the kitchen, which for her is alien territory. We're determined to turn her into a proper housewife.”

“This I've got to see,” Suzie laughed.

“In time. I believe that Vic will take to motherhood the way a duck takes to water. And I will be shocked if she isn't delivering about ten months from now.  Now,” Sarah continued, “let's get on with it. Priscilla, it will be your turn next-- a light punishment spanking to remind you that in this household you follow the rules that I set out. Julia, do you want to do the honors?”

“I want to spank her,” Francie blurted out. “I've had quite a bit of practice, but I could always use more. And what's this about no sex outside the household? I'd like to take Priscilla in hand and see where it goes, and I like Carlie as well. I'm willing to move in if that's what it takes, but do you have room for me?”

“Priscilla, am I to understand that you're bisexual?” Julia was genuinely curious, and her daughter's self-imposed celibate lifestyle had long aroused her suspicions.

“Mom, I don't know. I don't want to start something with Rita, Sarah or Carlie and have it blow up in our faces, so I'd like to dip my toes in the water with someone else, and I like Francie. I'd like her to spank me, and then take charge of me the way Joyce takes charge of Babs.”

“You want to be treated like a baby?”

“Mom, I'm wearing and using diapers, and Vic and I are sharing a crib. This is the next logical step, and you and Sarah have both make it pretty clear that you want me to take it. I'm willing.”

“Well, Francie, are you prepared to take charge of an adult baby? If you are, I'm fine with this.”

“I'd love to take Pris in hand. And Vickie too. I'd love to baby both of your daughters.”

“Sarah, I guess it's up to you,” Julia concluded.

“I'd love to have her help, but no sex outside the household, Francie. Are you prepared to move in to what are already tight quarters?”

"I'll go home in the morning, pack, and move in tomorrow afternoon. Put me down for diaper duty. To earn my keep, I'll take care of everyone, including Ian. And I love bottle feedings!”

“Welcome to the household,” Sarah smiled. “Now let me deal with Vickie, then you can put Priscilla over your knee. She needs a good spanking.”

“And she's gonna get one,” Francie smiled.

. . . .

Suzie retreated to the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed the number in Bernice's office. She knew that Bernice would be there, and would remain there until each and every one of their girls had been accounted for.

Bernice picked up on the first ring, dreading a call from the police this early in the evening. She was relieved to discover Suzie on the other end of the line, calling in to find out how things were going. There was little for Bernice to report, other than the fact that Herb Canon was out on the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the Deltas. Bernice was confident that he would round up any of their strays, and see them safely back to the house.

Suzie, of course, had a great deal more to report from the party. After a wonderful dinner graced with a fine wine, the entertainment had got under way, with Ian receiving a light, maintenance spanking in between rounds of ouzo. Vickie had just received her own maintenance spanking,and a third round of drinks was about to commence, after which Priscilla would receive a light punishment spanking from one of the ladies working at Lullaby Diaper Service. Still more ouzo would precede the heavy spanking that Joyce would give Babs, who would be sharing Ian's crib overnight. The party would eventually wind down, but as no one would be sober enough to drive home, it would end with the guests grabbing pillows and blankets and bedding down on the living room floor like the surfer bunnies in the beach party films. Come the morning, black coffee in copious quantities would be the order of the day.

The conversation ended with Bernice promising to call back if she had something substantive to report. She would leave it to Suzie to get Tippi, Joyce and Babs home in the morning, and life would go on.

[littlebopeeper]

Herb is a fantastic character.  Great job detailing the anxiety that comes with the onset of incontinence in middle age. 

[mushy bottom]

Tension continues to build, and you really threw us a curve ball with Francie.  Well done.

[Babypants]

On 7/14/2025 at 3:03 PM, littlebopeeper said:

Herb is a fantastic character.  Great job detailing the anxiety that comes with the onset of incontinence in middle age. 

One of my goals in this story is to show how incontinence actually impacts people's lives.

22 hours ago, mushy bottom said:

Tension continues to build

Yep.  Wanted to do a spanking seminar before turning Joyce loose on Babs.

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

If Vickie is an expert on spanking, her knowledge results from research as well as practice.  What very popular sex manual was to be found not only on her shelves but also, as we learned earlier, on Sofia's?