AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON THREE, SCENE 91: THE SUBMISSIVE DOMME

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT:  in response to requests, I have begun forwarding packages of scenes to Mike to post as a story uninterrupted by comments in STORIES.  The first 8 scenes are up, and Mike has 9-17 in hand, ready to go when he finds the time.  The rest of the first season (scenes 18-41) will follow.

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

The FBI is repeatedly mocked as "Fart, Barf and Itch" in the works of one of the following much published authors.  Are we talking about:

A.  James Lee Burke

B.  Raymond Chandler

C.  Elmore Leonard

D.  Ross MacDonald

E.  Ed McBain

[Babypants]

THE CURTAIN RISES

Entering the conference room, Sarah braked to a halt in mid-stride, forcing Tippi to squeeze by her on the right. She wasn't particularly surprised to see the whole of the Circle in attendance, but finding Ian seated between Vickie and the policewoman caused her to do a double take, and she didn't know what to make of the teenager seated next to Rita.

“You okay, Jannie?” Tippi didn't have any idea what Janis Marsden was doing inside the Psych ward, but she knew that Janis was so timid that she would not resist electroshock therapy if one of the shrinks insisted upon it. For her part, Tippi would not be so easily intimidated. Her mother had worked at the Minnesota Security Hospital in Saint Peter when it was known as the Asylum for the Dangerously Insane. Tippi had heard many a hair-raising tale at the dinner table; her mother's sense of humor, she had concluded some years earlier, was seriously warped.

“Still getting used to my diaper,” Janis weakly grinned as she once again wriggled her hips. “Tip, it looks like you need help with your wardrobe!”

“Amen to that,” Tippi blushed.

In Sarah's office, she had finally managed to pull her jeans up over the thick adult diaper, baby pants and canvas cover, but she couldn't fasten them, and she wasn't wearing a belt. The only thing holding her pants up was a hair tie, which Sarah had found in one of her desk drawers.

“Janis, this is Sarah, my fiancee; Sarah, this is Janis Marsden … Marilyn's daughter, and a diaper thief extraordinaire!” Ian had already introduced Janis to the rest of the Circle. “Ladies,” he went on, “yonder stands Tippi Bjornsen, the truly cunning mastermind who thought up The Great Diaper Robbery, and carried it off with but one small hitch. Tippi, I'm surprised to see you here; if all forty-one of you are coming up, we are going to need a bigger conference room!”

“I was about to find Tippi something more appropriate to wear,” Sarah objected, “when Rita called, told me to drop everything, and get it in gear. Rather than send her back to the cafeteria with her diaper on display, I'd thought I'd bring her along. Candy, you're about the same height, so I'm hoping that you have something in your locker that she can wear for now.”

“Better than what she's wearing,” Candy agreed, “but Tippi I have to warn you that there's no concealing the bulge caused by our diapers. Even with a full skirt your diaper will be obvious. I'm afraid that you are going to bring out the worst in some of your classmates.”

“Hazing,” Tippi shrugged. “We're used to it.”

“Ian, I have a question for you, and I want the truth … no lies ...”

“Sarah ...”

“Not now, Rita.” Sarah held up her hand to silence her friend, but never took her eyes off Ian. “Yesterday afternoon, when returning from our shopping trip, I saw you on the telephone in the lobby … saw the two of you together. What I saw leads me to ask: are you sleeping with her?”

“Have we made love, you mean? Yes, Sarah, we have.” Ian looked at her steadily, and there was no apology in his tone. “And have we fallen in love? Yes, we have. My feelings for Priscilla are real, and they run deep … very deep. But they in no way diminish my feelings for you, or Rita, or Vickie. This is about addition, not subtraction.”

“And I believe you, Ian; I really do. First me, then Vickie … Rita … and now Priscilla, all in less than a month. Does any of this bother you?”

“That's a fair question,” Ian conceded, “and it deserves an honest answer. If I was a 'butterfly' in the Asian sense-- a man who flits from one woman to the next-- it would certainly bother me. But I'm not. I love all four of you, Sarah, and I hope to have children with each of you. That's why we're here … to talk about children.”

“Thank you, Ian.” Sarah smiled for the first time since entering the room. “The three of us badly want children, and we all want you to be the father. Poor Rita here has been agonizing over how to broach the subject in the conversation the two of you were supposed to have this afternoon, but you've just taken an enormous weight off of all of our shoulders. Thank you.”

Ian nodded, but chose to keep his mouth shut. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And who will you fall in love with tomorrow,” Sarah frowned. “Will it be Tippi here? Sarah rested a hand upon the girl's shoulder. “Until graduation, she will be working as a candy striper under my direction. Since she's going to spend the next three years in a diaper and under lock and key, I'm debating asking her to take over changing your diapers when you're on campus. But will you fall in love with her even if her diaper puts her out of reach? Will you?”

“I don't know, Sarah, and that's also the truth. I don't understand any of this. Last night? At the sorority house? Suzie Marshall put me to bed, and she was tender and caring. I like Suzie; she's attractive, intelligent, and passionate. But I did not wake up this morning to find myself in love with her. I'm not. I meet lots of intelligent, attractive women on campus, and I don't fall in love with them just because they favor me with a smile. It's scary, Sarah, not knowing how this works. Believe me, if there's a pill that will put a stop to it, I'll take it … cheerfully!”

Laughter erupted all around the room.

“Ian,” Reiko offered when the laughter died down, “there is a pill that will suppress your libido, but it doesn't distinguish between the women you love and the women you don't. Unfortunately, it's all or nothing-- and if you want to have children, it will have to be 'nothing'.”

“There is a practical solution,” Sarah added, “which the five of us will talk about in private, but therapy is also an option. Having your emotions run wild this way … taking multiple lovers to fill something empty inside you … these point to a condition called BPD, or Borderline Personality Disorder. It is treatable.”

“I'm not sure that's what we're dealing with,” Vickie opined, “but let's find out. Ian, I want you to close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then let it go slowly. As best you can, just relax.”

Ian happily obeyed. He wanted to make love to Vickie so bad that it hurt.

“I want you to see yourself climbing the stairs, coming home at the end of a work day. Put your key in the lock, but before you open the door, think about what lies beyond. There's no one there, no one waiting for you. Your apartment is empty and silent. Now, open the door … step inside … turn and close the door … lock it. How do you feel standing in the entryway, knowing that you won't leave the apartment until the following morning? How do you feel?”

“Relieved,” Ian sighed. “At peace. What should I have to drink, and what sounds good for dinner? Maybe I'll listen to some music while I'm cooking, then watch something on TV while I eat. And I like to read before I go to sleep-- a mystery or a thriller. A quiet night, away from the maddening crowd, away from the world and all its problems. Recharge the batteries, get ready to do battle again tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Sarah!” Reiko was gleeful. “It's not BPD ...”

“Polyamory,” Vickie crowed as she affectionately patted Ian's knee. “The tell is that he isn't falling in and out of love in serial fashion. Nope. He's gone and fallen in love with four of us in less than a month, and he's not letting go of any of us. A textbook case of polyamory.”

“The more interesting question,” Marge thoughtfully observed, “is how the four of you all seem to be good with this communal vision. Whatever happened to good, old fashioned female jealousy?”

“Three of us have been friends for a long, long time,” Rita noted in response. “We've all worried about what would happen if one of us ran off and got married. Would our friendship survive, or would we just drift apart? All things considered, a polyamorous relationship with a nice guy who wants to have kids suits the three of us just fine.”

“And this policewoman,” Marge pressed.

“Indeed.” Priscilla decided that the moment was at hand. “Sarah, you just said that the five of us need to find a way to curb Ian's habit of falling in love once or twice a week ...”

“Three times,” Vickie chuckled.

“Are you counting me here,” Priscilla went on; “are you letting me in?”

“Yes, and I want you to be the last person to gain entrance. And you will have to acknowledge me as head of household. If this is going to work, someone has to be in charge, and the four of us are already in agreement that I'm the only one who's both able and willing.”

“Sarah, I still live with my parents, and my mother is most definitely the head of our household!” Priscilla's smile was genuine. “So, in principle, I'm fine with following your lead, but ...”

Priscilla and Ian shared a quick glance, both of them thinking about the revelations still to come.

“But maybe all five of us need to go see a shrink,” Ian awkwardly cut in. “Or am I the only one who thinks that this whole conversation is sort of weird?”

“Uh, Ian … there are five shrinks in the room.”

Candy sympathized with Ian, who from her point of view was in way over his head.

“Polyamory is the subject of heated debate inside the profession,” Marge explained. “Only about a third of us regard it as an illness to be addressed, and there is no course of treatment laid out for anyone to follow.”

Reiko clapped her hands in delight. “It should be added that ours is a male dominated profession, and we ladies sometimes suspect that our male colleagues are envious of guys who can pull this off. And it is a challenge, Ian, make no mistake about that! Time management is a major league headache, especially if you are planning to have children with four women under one roof! Do you get my meaning?”

Reiko also thought that poor Ian was in so far over his head that he couldn't tell which way was up, and which way was down. He looked so confused!

“Uh … well … does anyone sell Spanish fly around here?”

Ian was seriously beginning to wonder whether he had stumbled into The Twilight Zone. This was most definitely not how he had expected this conversation to go, and he was at a loss as to how to get it back on track.

“The other thing at a premium in a polyamorous household is effective communication,” Rita quietly added. She was staring at him, making it clear that it was time to get down to business. “Lies, misunderstandings … everything tends to be blown out of proportion, so we have to be honest with one another … honest without being hurtful.”

Rita gestured for Sarah and Tippi to take seats.

“Have you been honest with us, Ian,” Rita continued. She already knew the answer, but not the why of it.

“Wrong,” Janis whispered to herself, staring down at the floor, fists clenched.

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” she suddenly cried out, surprising everyone in the room. “Why are you doing this,” she yelled at Rita. “You say that you love him, but he's in so much pain, and now you're piling on. Why? Why don't you wait until he's ready, and let him tell the story his own way?

“Janis?” She looked up, surprised to see Professor Grady kneeling on the floor in front of her, reaching out to grasp her hands. Her eyes went wide, glistening with fresh tears yet to fall.

“Thank you, Sweetie.” The room was deathly silent, but Ian didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared anyway. He had erupted from his seat, rushing to comfort her

“You're right; this hurts. But sometimes, like now, we have to ignore the pain … fight through it. Besides,” he said as he reached up gently to brush a stray lock of her hair aside, “if I fall, you and Priscilla are here to catch me, aren't you?”

“Uh huh,” she whispered. “Both of us.”

Becky caught Rita's eye, and nodded meaningfully in Ian's direction, but everyone in the room could see it. This was a father-daughter moment.

Priscilla's heart ached for the lonely little girl seated but a few feet away. She didn't know Janis' father, but her mother was clearly a successful businesswoman. Had they kicked Janis to the curb as they sat off in pursuit of their dreams? Clearly, Ian and Marilyn were going to be having a heart to heart conversation at some point in the near future.

For her part, Vickie felt like she was watching the preview of a much heralded movie. Will he be a good father? On some level, it was a question that gnawed at every woman considering marriage and family. Am I making the right choice? Watching Ian take the girl so gently in hand, Vickie knew that she had chosen well.

“You're right, Janis, and I want to apologize to both of you. It must have sounded like an accusation, but it wasn't. I'm sorry.”

Mentally, Rita was kicking herself all around the room. She had given a lot of thought to how best to raise the issue of children with Ian, only to have the proverbial rug yanked out from under her. Janis was right; she was handling this very badly.

“There's a clock running here,” she explained to the room at large, “and time is short. Some of what Ian is about to tell us may already be spreading around campus, and even in this building. He wants us to hear it at first hand, not at second, and I agree with him. What remains to be decided is the level of detail that he should share. Priscilla is warning us that some of this is really, really bad … literally, the stuff of nightmares. And yes, I know that we all see ourselves as battle scarred therapists who've seen and heard it all, but I believe that we should take what an experienced police officer tells us very seriously. So, Ian, for now I want you to gloss over the worst of it. We'll go ahead and have our meeting this afternoon as scheduled, and there I want you to share everything with me. I'll decide whether Vickie should hear it, or whether we need to get you a new therapist. I expect you to abide by my decision.”

Returning to his seat, Ian slowly nodded in agreement. Donnie's background check had made it clear that Rita was a serious player, but the file on Vickie was thin. John Lessing was a safe bet, but dropping him into this conversation could lead to questions that Ian was not prepared to answer.

“The photograph,” Ian asked.

“Do you want me to pass it around,” Rita asked as she removed it from the pocket of her smock.

“To Sarah first,” he instructed. “But I want everyone to see it.”

Rita stood up, and slowly crossed to the opposite side of the room. Visibly reluctant, she passed the aging photograph to Ian's fiancee.

Priscilla reached out to grasp Ian's hand. She wanted him to know that he was not alone, and that she was going to help.

Frowning, Sarah studied the photograph, and then looked up at Ian. Her lack of comprehension was written all over her face. Silently, she passed the print to Tippi, who looked at it for a moment before passing it on.

“This was taken in the Spring of 1970.”

Ian's gaze never wavered. He was looking at Sarah, and only at Sarah, but he waited until the photograph came to Vickie.

Her first thought was that the woman was stunningly beautiful, and then she looked more closely, and saw the baby that Ian was cradling in his arms.

Their baby.

Ian's family.

The source of all the love and all the pain that so defined him.

She thought of the other photograph, still hanging on the cafeteria wall, and how fitting it would be for this photo to rest at its side. Together, they explained so much.

“Nguyen is dead, Sarah … murdered while I was in the hospital. Whoever did this massacred the entire village, although they spared the littlest children … took them. I agree with my counterparts at Langley, and in other intelligence agencies around the world, that they were after my daughter … after Linh. If she has inherited my peculiar gift, she would be incredibly valuable to the right party-- and incredibly dangerous if properly trained.”

“So, all the travel that is so curious ...”

Sarah blinked, looking for a refuge from the storm brewing in her mind. Anything to avoid confronting the awful truth.

“You're a spy,” she finally declared.

“No,” Ian sighed. “Not at all … just a guy who combines a very high security clearance with the ability to speak almost two hundred languages well enough to go out and do the meet and greets. That's my primary function. I talk to people; mostly, it's asking questions cooked up in some office at headquarters, and writing up the answers as a report when I get back. I do evaluate character traits, but it's for others to pass judgment on whether the subject is worth our time and effort. In return, the Agency uses its resources and connections to search for my daughter. From Langley's point of view, she poses an unacceptable long-term risk to national security. They want her back almost as badly as I do.”

“And if they find her?”

“I will raise her, and my niece Thu, and any others who have survived. In the photos, it's … it's hard to tell how many were taken.”

Priscilla squeezed Ian's hand hard, silently warning him not to go any farther.

“Sarah, I want you … the three of you to take your time, and examine your feelings about this … and to be honest with yourselves. I'm placing a heavy burden at your feet, and there's no shame in saying that you can't lift it … no shame in walking away. Please, just be honest.”

“Ian, I don't understand: why did you wait until now to drop this in our laps? Why didn't you tell us sooner? For God's sake, we're engaged to be married in less than a month!”

“I couldn't. Sarah, since '68 my whole life has been classified, at a level so high that only four men in the whole government can break the seals on my file. Helping Phil and Don ended up wrecking my cover, so yesterday one of the four didn't stop at simply authorizing me to talk about this-- he ordered me to do so. The people that matter understand now that they destroyed my marriage to Emily. I was never authorized to tell her the truth, and we drowned in all the lies and half-truths that I was forced to fabricate. My friends want this marriage to work. I'm retiring, Sarah, because there are no shadows left out there for me to hide in. Quite simply, my usefulness in the field is pretty much at an end; it's time for me to come home.”

“Which is what we all want you to do.” Rita had been listening carefully, and she was having trouble putting all the pieces together. “Ian, I can tell you right now that I will welcome your daughter and your niece with open arms, and love them as if they were my own ...”

“Here, here,” Vickie whispered, leaning her head on Ian's shoulder.

“And I'm good with foster care,” Rita continued.

“At law,” Candy cut in, “there's a difference between a foster home and an orphanage. It's a matter of numbers. We run into this problem a lot when placing abused children taken away from their parents. The system is so crowded that we sometimes have no choice but to split up siblings. Tragedy on top of tragedy,” she sighed.

“We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Ian countered. “I want to circle back to the here and now … to the children that I'm hoping to have with you, and how much it's going to cost you if we keep going. Friendship is in play here, but it is also very much in the Agency's long-term interest to support us.”

Ian paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers. The perfect analogy!

“Has anyone here ever heard of the Defense Language Institute, out in California?” The women all shook their heads.

“It's where the military send people to master a foreign language. Courses run thirty six to sixty four weeks. You're in class seven hours a day, five days a week, with two to three hours of homework tacked on each night. So, they're budgeting eighteen to thirty two hundred hours per pupil-- to learn one language. Want to learn both Japanese and Korean? That's a pair of sixty four week courses; when I was a kid, I mastered each of them in less than five weeks, and I was self-taught. In high school, it took me a weekend to achieve fluency in Romanian.”

Ian leaned back in his chair, and let out a deep sigh. “Sarah, in the near future I have to go to Athens, to meet someone in Soviet intelligence. We're going to do some horse trading, but the Director would like all four of you to come with me. He'll even foot the bill for a honeymoon in the Greek isles, and it just so happens that I have a friend who runs a charming little hotel on Santorini. Zorzis won't blink an eye when asked to make the necessary arrangements for a party of five.“

“I'm going,” Priscilla announced; “just to keep Ian out of trouble!” She nudged him with her elbow, relieved to see that he had steered the conversation onto safe ground.

“Ask yourselves,” Ian went on; “why would the Director be encouraging us to set up a household that would shock the average citizen?”

“Like my Dad,” Priscilla laughed. “He thinks that I'm joining a hippie commune, and that our kids will all think they've got four mommies!”

“Let me guess,” Becky scowled. “If any of your children inherit this 'gift' … or maybe it's a curse? The CIA will want you to raise them to take your place, and save everybody a lot of time and money in the process.”

“That's it in a nutshell,” Ian agreed. “And having let my daughter slip through their fingers, the Agency will go to elaborate lengths to keep the four of you and the children safe. It's already started-- Priscilla is going to do the embassy security course at Quantico to qualify her to head the staff that will be assigned to us.”

“Staff? Ian, I have my heart set on buying my dream home out on Lake Minnetonka … for us, Ian … for us and our children! What is this about staff?”

Rita was genuinely upset, and it showed.

“I'm sorry, Rita, but the Agency will choose a property for us, and it will do so with an eye to minimizing risk. At the very least, they will want a secure room inside the house in which you and the children can shelter if someone attacks, and a free fire zone surrounding the house. Think grounds without cover behind which an enemy force can hide. Priscilla will be in charge of the inner security ring, while another agent will be responsible for the grounds and approaches to the property. Security will be 24/7, like with the Secret Service and the President.”

“So, we'd be living in a glorified cage,” Sarah sneered, “and taking orders from this woman.” She nodded at Priscilla.

“You would still be running the household, Sarah; Priscilla would take over only in the event of an emergency. As for living in a glorified cage? Sure, if you want, I guess that you could describe the White House or Buckingham Palace that way. But the security detail isn't going to cook your meals, or change a baby's diapers. Their job is to keep us safe, and they can't do that if we integrate them into the household. We are talking apples and oranges here.”

“And this goes on for how long? Until they grow up, and run off to attend Spy School, or whatever you call it?”

“Well, we call it Harvard, Princeton, or Stanford,” Ian smiled. “One or the other is where all the best spies finish up after they graduate high school.”

“You've given us a lot to think about, Ian.” Vickie patted his arm affectionately while she searched for words that would blunt the simmering anger that threatened to erupt at any moment. Rita was visibly upset, Sarah disgusted, and Becky seriously pissed. “What you're describing isn't the White House, and it isn't a cage. It sounds more like life in a fishbowl. Is there anything else that you think we need to know?”

“No, I guess not. I have to believe that I'm going to get my daughter back. Raising her … the loss of privacy … that's what it all comes down to.”

Ian stood up, and Priscilla stood up with him. She looked around the room. “I'm here to stay,” she concluded in a calm but absolutely certain tone. “If you can't pay the price, we'll understand … and we'll face the future together.”

“Janis, it's time to take you home.” Ian reached out for her.

“Here are the keys to her diaper cover,” Rita said as she belatedly stood up. “She's to leave one on Marcia's desk; the other three are for the house mom.”

“And these are for Tippi's cover,” Sarah added as she pushed three of the keys into Ian's hand. “After we get her more properly dressed, she'll rejoin you in the cafeteria.”

“I'd like to keep the photograph, and pin it alongside the other one.” Vickie was still holding the aging print in her hand. “You have a lot of friends here, and they deserve to know what happened out there.”

Ian simply nodded, then reached for Janis' hand. He would return in the afternoon, sit down with Rita, and let her decide how to proceed with his therapy. But for now he had a family to look after, another village to protect.

As he left the ward he prayed that, this time, he would get it right.

[kerry]

I am on record regarding how I feel about Sarah (i.e. that she is a manipulative, domineering bitch with a pronounced sadistic streak). Somehow, I have not felt that way about the others and I still don't. But how they respond to Priscilla joining their little tribe will make a huge difference, as will their reactions to the newly stated restrictions on their domestic housing. This was a very important chapter.

[Babypants]

10 hours ago, kerry said:

But how they respond to Priscilla joining their little tribe will make a huge difference, as will their reactions to the newly stated restrictions on their domestic housing. This was a very important chapter.

Thanks as always.  I am going to explore the issues you raise here at length.  I have seen deep friendships destroyed by a member of the circle marrying the wrong woman, but I have never seen a guy walk away from a bad relationship because his friends are bailing out.  I suspect that quite a few guys on this site would love to submit to Sarah, but Ian is not one of them.  The question remains: can she be redeemed, or will she be cast aside?  Will Rita and Vickie remain loyal to their friendship, or will they abandon Sarah to go with their feelings for Ian?

Keeping in mind what CCApril and I are kicking around, rest assured that up here in 2024 Ian and Priscilla are still going strong.  

[CDfm]

I really have to agree with Kerry here. I didn’t get a good feeling off Sarah in this chapter.  I wonder if the dominant role her mother introduced her to has had more of an effect on her than anyone realizes.  I believe that Rita and Vickie will stick with Ian and I have no doubt Priscilla will be by his side.  
Learning about the kind of security they will be living under I can understand some initial shock and concern about having limited privacy when that wasn’t anything they were expecting.  I do think they will come around.  Sarah is still a question mark.  
This was a great chapter and I will be looking forward to reading more. 

[Babypants]

21 hours ago, CDfm said:

Learning about the kind of security they will be living under I can understand some initial shock and concern about having limited privacy when that wasn’t anything they were expecting.  I do think they will come around.  Sarah is still a question mark.

Thanks for this.  Today it is commonplace to see security in place around the wealthy and/or famous, but back in 1979 it would have been much more surprising, especially in the upper Midwest.  In Sarah's imagination, their children won't ride a bus to school, but will be driven there by armed guards.  At the time, there was a lot of talk about how so cloistered an environment was impacting Amy Carter, who was twelve years old at the time this story is taking place, and barely into her teens when her father left the presidency.

[Babypants]

This question is the equivalent of Trivial Pursuit for $1,000:

Back in Scene 29 (THE JUNGLE KING), an orderly called out to Vickie: “Having doctor and patient dress alike really levels the playing field. Is this part of that New Age stuff you were looking into out in San Francisco this summer?” 

Nope, it wasn't a throwaway line.  What Vickie was actually looking into was a commune practicing what is technically known as polygyny, but more popularly today as polyamory.  The practice goes back to Mesopotamia in the third millennium B.C., and it's all over the Old Testament, including David (1 Samuel 25.39-44; 2 Samuel 3.25, 5.13-16) and Solomon (1 Kings 11.1-3).  The following is a description of the sexual arrangements in play in the commune (Wikipedia): 

"A single B-FIC [Best-Friend Identity Cluster] was composed of men and women who rotated sleeping with all of the opposite-sex members on a balanced rotational sleeping schedule. The sleeping schedule assigned each family member to sleep with a different opposite-sex partner each night. Since the BFICs were rarely balanced between men and women (typically more women than men), on any given night several family-members would have no partner to sleep with and were assigned a 'Zero-Night' when they slept alone. In addition to the programmed sleeping schedule, it was permitted to sleep with any opposite-sex family member at any time, which was termed a 'freebie'."

WHO CAN TELL US THE NAME OF THIS COMMUNE?

 

[CDfm]

Sorry,  not me.  😟

[CCApril]

My guess is the Playboy Mansion!

Nope no guess here either. 

Sarah, I hope you get your attitude adjusted before your on the outside looking in! 

On 6/6/2024 at 10:48 AM, Babypants said:

Ian, I have my heart set on buying my dream home out on Lake Minnetonka

Don't think security would be happy being on a lake that busy. Not too many properties near the Twin Cities with its own private lake either. 

[Babypants]

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

My guess is the Playboy Mansion!

A polyamorous setting if ever I saw one!

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

Don't think security would be happy being on a lake that busy. Not too many properties near the Twin Cities with its own private lake either. 

Dead on.  Lakefront properties are easily penetrated.  Remember Arnold S. in True Lies?

[littlebopeeper]

On 6/4/2024 at 10:56 PM, Babypants said:

A.  James Lee Burke

Had to look this one up (I would have guessed Elmore Leonard)

On 6/10/2024 at 9:46 PM, Babypants said:

WHO CAN TELL US THE NAME OF THIS COMMUNE?

This one stumped me as well.  

[Babypants]

MARSHALLING THE FORCES

“Holy cow,” Ian exclaimed as they reentered the cafeteria. The quiet facility that they had departed little more than half an hour earlier was now bustling with activity.

“It looks like Gayle and Marcia summoned reinforcements,” Priscilla noted. There were at least a dozen more nurses processing applications from the sorority girls, and the impromptu interviews were being carried out in every corner of the hall.

“Janis,” Marcia Mason yelled; “get over here!”

Excusing herself, Janis toddled across the room, the thick diaper sealed between her thighs dramatically altering her stride.

“Janis, I need you to get up to Four, grab a cart, then get down to Supply. We need a hundred diapers, a hundred pairs of vinyl pants, sizes small, medium and large, and fifty of the canvas diaper covers. You know where everything is, right?”

Wide-eyed, Janis nodded. She was being put to work!

“Make more than one trip if you need to, but drag everything back upstairs-- and give this note to Sylvia! When you're finished, hustle back down here; I need you to take the girls upstairs and help Sylvie get them into their diapers!”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Grabbing the note, Janis toddled off in the direction of the nearest elevator.

“And don't mix up the keys to the covers,” Marcia yelled at Janis' retreating back.

Seeing Janis safely underway, Marcia resumed her interview with Amanda Cunningham, which looked promising since Amanda seemed only too happy to work a seven to ten PM slot that no one else wanted.

“Ian … Priscilla … it's good to have you both back!” Taking it upon herself to supervise the chaos, Bernice had been efficiently directing the girls to one table or another for their interviews. “How did it go?”

“About as well as expected,” Ian laughed; “which is to say … not well at all.”

“A palpable sense of betrayal,” Priscilla added, “inevitably seasoned with anger and resentment.”

Ian nodded. “Rita called the whole team into the conference room, and gave me the floor. They handled the news about my daughter well enough, but it went downhill from there.  And that's putting it mildly. No one was thrilled at the prospect of raising our children in a fortress with armed guards patrolling the premises twenty four hours a day ..."

“All of them?”

“I'm pretty sure that Vickie's on board, but we may well lose Sarah and Rita.”

“That's how I see it as well,” Priscilla agreed.

“Well, if the two of you need a place to bed down,” Bernice smiled, “you're welcome to stay with me as long as you like.”

“And if it's three of us,” Ian teased.

“It won't be the first time three people have bedded down in the guest room,” Bernice laughed, “although it would be the first time that I hosted a menage a trois!”

“You need to talk to my Mom,” Priscilla grinned. “The three of us, and my Dad, are going out tonight and getting drunk … a genuine, old fashioned drinking contest. My Mom's tagging along to pick up the pieces, but she hasn't sorted out who's sleeping where. I don't care about the where, so long as Ian and I end up sharing a bed.”

“When we get back to the house, I'll give you a key. Just be quiet when you sneak in!”

“Thanks, Mom; it's good to know that you're on our side.”

Ian was immensely relieved to learn that, if everything went sideways with Sarah, he wouldn't have to camp out in his office.

Bernice gave him a long, appraising look. “Mom,” she simply asked.

“Sorry; it just slipped out.” Ian flushed with embarrassment.

“No, don't be sorry.” Bernice turned wistful. “My husband and I … we eloped when he got his induction notice, but there wasn't enough time for me to get pregnant … although we did try.” She smiled at the memory; as honeymoons went, theirs had been a good one. “I'd like to think that, if we had had a son, he would have turned out much like you. And I'd very much like for you to go on thinking of me as 'Mom'.”

Bernice opened her arms, and Ian didn't hesitate even for a moment. He hugged her in return. He missed his mom. Being held by Bernice brought home to him just how badly he missed both of his parents.

. . . .

“How do I look?”

Tippi was twisting back and forth in front of the mirror, but she couldn't get a sense of how her butt would appear to anyone walking directly behind her.

“Like a teenager wearing a bulging diaper,” Candy good naturedly laughed.

“A teenager of indeterminate sex,” she added. “Sorry, Tippi, but you are one of the few androgynous individuals I have ever encountered.”

“Tell me about it,” Tippi sighed. “In high school, it became abundantly clear to me that my sex appeal is zero. Guys had only one use for my mouth, and it didn't involve kissing. One senior even told me outright that kissing me would be like kissing another boy!”

“I was thinking in clinical terms,” Candy elaborated. “What's your height and weight?”

“I'm five ten, and sopping wet … maybe a hundred and five pounds.”

“Tippi, you are seriously underweight; at a minimum, you should weigh about one thirty five. With a BMI this low, you shouldn't even think about having a baby without consulting an OB/GYN first. The risk, both to you and the baby, would be severe.”

“I know! When I was sixteen? My mom was so concerned that she switched me from my pediatrician to our regular family doctor-- and the first thing he did was send me to a specialist. Doctor Royce didn't pull any punches.”

“Did they send you to a dietitian, or a therapist? Check for an eating disorder?”

“Sure. I don't have any food allergies, and I eat everything put in front of me. But I can't gain weight! And you don't know how hard I've tried! I want to have boobs and hips,” Tippi choked; “I want to look like everybody else! I want to meet a guy like Professor Grady … a guy who'll love me. And I want to have a baby … a child of my own. If I can't? If I can't, then I'm useless! Just take me out and shoot me!”

Tippi started to cry, finally releasing the tears that had been welling up inside of her for so long.

Candy wrapped her arms around the trembling child, hugged her tight, and stood quietly while her tears freely flowed. She would have to run it by Rita, and get together with Sarah to go over scheduling, but Candy had already decided to take Tippi Bjornsen under her wing.

. . . .

“Ian! Over here!”

Ian slipped out of Bernice's grasp, and saw Gayle Soderberg waving to him from across the room.

“Can I put you to work,” she shouted.

Nodding, he strolled over to find out what was going on.

“I've got staff here from just about every unit in the hospital,” she explained; “I'm trying to speed up the interview process so that we can get the girls into their diapers and send all of you on your way. I need you to go to my office, which is just down the corridor from the reception desk in the main lobby. Ask Sammy to give you a hundred lanyards-- two for each set of keys to the locking diaper covers. If they get mixed up, we'll have a gigantic mess on our hands, and I mean that literally!”

“Amen to that,” Ian grinned. If they had a poopy diaper in hand but no way to get at it, the mess would indeed be spectacular. “I'm on my way!”

“And ask Sammy to hook you up with Crummy. He can put you in touch with the company that manufacturers our diapers. Do you know how many the service will need?”

“No, but I'll call Harriet Belmondo for an estimate. What about the vinyl pants and the diaper covers?”

“Talk to Crummy. We can tide you over, but consider it a loan, not a gift. We can sell you ours at a discount, or she can buy directly from the suppliers … and no, I don't know the wholesale price for any of this. That's Crummy's department.”

“Sammy and Crummy,” Ian repeated.

“Try and get back before Janis returns. And bring a black marker pen!”

As Ian hurried off, Gayle followed him with her eyes for a moment, then focused on the interviewee currently sitting across the table. With a CPR certificate in hand and two summers as a lifeguard on one of the busiest beaches in the Twin Cities, Linda was a dream candidate. Charge nurses in at least four departments would cheerfully compete for her services, which made Gayle's job a whole lot easier.

“How I would love to hire that man,” she murmured, as much to herself as to Linda. “Fluent Vietnamese, Khmer, Lao … and who knows how many other languages that we need help with ...”

“Right now, he's teaching Korean and Japanese.” Linda had done two tours of duty in the corridor outside the Professor's office, keeping the poachers at bay.

“How I would love to hire that man,” she whispered yet again as she studied Linda's upcoming class schedule, trying in her mind to find the best fit for the girl in the sprawling and often confusing universe of the hospital complex.

. . . .

Deep in thought, Suzie was visibly irritated when someone knocked on the door. “What,” she yelled out.

Jennifer Strickland knew that voice … everyone in the house knew that voice. It screamed: ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK! She opened the door just wide enough to stick her head in, but not wide enough for her body to follow.

“Excuse me, Ma'am, but there's a man here … from a diaper service. He says that he's supposed to pick up a bunch of diapers from the ZAP house, but there's no one home. A note on the door instructed him to come here.”

Jennifer quickly retreated, not sure whether the exasperated house mom would fire a missile in her direction or not.

For her part, Suzie got up from her desk and walked into the closet. There was a key locker fastened to the back wall, with a combination lock. She opened it, collected the right key, and stormed out of the room. Jennifer had the good sense to stand meekly to the side, and follow in Suzie's train.

“And you are,” she growled at the man standing in her doorway. He was about her age, a little taller perhaps, wearing a uniform sporting the Lullaby Diaper Service monogram.

“Ken Howell … and no, I'm not related to Thurston, and I don't howl at the moon. Not even on paydays.”

“But you,” he added with a leer, “have got Ginger and Mary Ann beat any day of the week. If you want to go ice fishing, I have a house out on Forest Lake. It's very cozy.”

“Seriously?” Suzie favored him with a look that she normally reserved for the Dean. “As pick up lines go, that's pretty lame. Does it ever work?”

“Only in the last hour before closing,” Ken replied with a confident grin; “and only in certain bars of my acquaintance. I'd take you to Meister's, out in Scandia; you look like a lady who'd appreciate the best bacon cheeseburger in the state!”

“With fried onions and house made hash browns grilled in butter and topped with melted cheese?”

“You've been there?”

“Are you kidding? I worked tables there for two summers! I was born and raised in Scandia! Graduated Forest Lake High. Alas, my boyfriend moved to 'Vegas, leaving me to fend for myself at the U … four long, lonely years ...”

Behind her, Suzie could hear Jennifer helplessly giggling.

Suzie glanced down the street, confirming that there was indeed a brightly painted diaper service truck parked in ZAP's driveway.

“Jennifer,” she ordered as she whirled about and forced the key into the girl's hand, “let this gentleman into the house, and help him get the diapers into his truck. If any of the frat boys are standing around gawking, put them to work!”

“Yes, Ma'am!” Jennifer was hard pressed not to respond with a curtsey.

“One last thing,” Suzie declared. “You've now got forty-one new customers in that house. What is your delivery day?”

“Thursday afternoons … did you say forty-one new customers … for adult diapers?” Ken blanched.

“That's right,” Suzie smirked, knowing that she had finally put the insolent delivery man in his place.

“But at three to four dozen diapers weekly … that's … that's ...” Ken was running the numbers through his head.

“Roughly fifteen hundred to two thousand diapers a week.”

Suzie had already done the math, and she delighted in knocking the delivery guy down a peg or two. Faculty material Ken Howell (no relation to Thurston) definitely was not.

“But we don't have near enough adult diapers to service such an order. It's bigger than our largest nursing home account!”

“Not a problem, I assure you. Professor Grady will sprinkle a bit of faerie dust, wave his magic wand, and the diapers will suddenly appear!”

“Oh, that guy. Yeah, he's one of our customers down in Bloomington. Harriet, my boss, has a serious crush on him.”

“Really? Well, the two of us will talk about it when we get together on Saturday night.”

“You … you know my boss,” the delivery driver gulped.

“And when I see her, I'll be sure and mention how polite you've been … and how efficient. Now, why don't you run along and get all those diapers out of Bernice Miller's dining room, and back where they belong.”

“Yes, Ma'am!” Ken didn't curtsey, but he did bow.

“So easy,” Suzie whispered as the driver rushed off to do her bidding. “So easy.”

Suzie returned to her office to await a call from the hospital. She had the weak-minded fool currently occupying the presidential mansion down on East River Road by the short hairs. And if Ian cooperated, she intended to squeeze hard.

. . . .

Ian found Gayle's office without difficulty, but it nevertheless took him by surprise. He was expecting the reception area to be spacious and richly furnished, a harbinger of things to come for those fortunate enough to be granted admission to the inner sanctum hidden behind a stout, oak door. What awaited him was a cheaply decorated chamber about the size of a hotel room. A utilitarian desk and chair, currently occupied by a raven haired beauty in her midtwenties, was flanked by a row of gunmetal filing cabinets to her left, and a threadbare couch and end table to her right. The lampshade dominating the table looked like a refugee from Goodwill. Wonder, Ian thought, if the two wooden chairs facing the desk were salvaged from a trash heap. What a dump!

“Can I help you?”

The young lady behind the desk was coolly professional.

“Uh … hi,” he stammered. “Um … Gayle … uh, Missus Soderberg … she sent me here to collect a hundred lanyards and a black marker pen. Is Sammy around?”

“I'm Samantha,” the young lady announced. “And you are?”

“Professor Grady … Ian Grady.”

“Oh, yes,” Samantha smiled. She glanced down at Ian's waist, and pursed her lips as she took in the bulk of his all too obvious diaper. “Your reputation precedes you. It's an honor to meet you at last.”

“Delighted.” It was the best that Ian could manage.

“Now, what's this about a hundred lanyards?”

“Well,” Ian blushed, “I've got forty-one sorority girls in the cafeteria, being interviewed for jobs as candy stripers. They're all going to be wearing the … uh … the same diaper that I'm wearing, and it'll be locked on … uh … just like mine ...”

Get a grip, Grady! Just because she's got Lauren Bacall's eyes …

Samantha lowered her gaze a second time, lingering over the bulk imprisoning the Professor's loins.

“Go on,” she ordered.

“Uh … we don't want the keys to get mixed up, so we're going to fasten each set to a lanyard with the girl's name on the tag.”

“Hence the black marker pen,” Samantha smiled, finally raising her eyes to meet Ian's.

When Samantha stood up and walked around the desk, Ian gulped. She had an hour glass figure, and her knee length skirt showed off her trim legs to their maximum advantage.

“Do you want me to change your diaper,” she asked.

“Huh?” Ian shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He would have sworn that she had asked about changing his diaper.

“I said, do you need a folder to carry the lanyards?”

Samantha had opened one of the filing cabinets, but she was giving him an odd look. She wondered whether the Professor was high on something.

Focus! Get your head out of the clouds!

“Oh, yes, please,” Ian smiled as he made a determined effort to regain his composure. “And I also need to get in touch with Crummy, in purchasing. Gayle said that you would have his number.”

“Of course,” she answered as she dug into the filing cabinet. She came out with a cardboard box filled with lanyards, which she carried back to the desk. It only took her a couple of minutes to count out the hundred, and place them in a large manila envelope.

“Jerry Cromwell is in charge of purchasing,” she stipulated as she wrote her colleague's name and telephone number on a notepad. “Would you like me to call him for you?”

Samantha's tone made it unmistakably clear that she wasn't sure whether Ian knew how to use a telephone. He was behaving like a space cadet, which struck her as pretty much the norm for college professors.

“Actually, I need to call my diaper service first,” he blushed. “I'll need to speak with the manager.”

“I'll make the call.” Samantha opened a bottom drawer, extracted a copy of the Minneapolis Yellow Pages, and opened it to the right page.

“Lullaby,” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Lullaby,” Ian agreed. “Oh, and ask for Harriet Belmondo.”

“Of course,” Samantha murmured as she dialed the number.

“Harriet Belmondo, please.” She continued to stare at Ian with unblinking eyes.

“Miss Belmondo? Right, let me pass you to Professor Grady.” She gave Ian the phone.

“Ian? Hi! Julia's here. She tells me that we have forty-one new adult customers … the sorority girls. I don't have enough diapers!”

“That's why I'm calling,” Ian soothed. “Do you know how many diapers you'll need to beef up your inventory? These hospital diapers are really thick, so I don't know how many changes the girls will need on any given day.”

“We're thinking an initial order of thirty-five diapers a week per customer, so let's round it up to fifteen hundred diapers. And they'll need baby pants!”

“Gayle Soderberg, who's in charge of Patient Relations here, will help us out short-term, but I need to talk to the Purchasing Department. She says that we can buy used from the hospital and get a discount, or buy direct from the suppliers at wholesale. I'll get quotes both ways, and get back to you”

“Fantastic! Can you hang on for a sec? Julia wants to speak with you.”

“Did you … uh … cross the Rubicon?” Julia figured that enough time had passed for Ian to have had his reckoning.

“It was a raging river, but it's in my rear view mirror. It's going to take time for all of us to process what happened.”

“But Pris stayed the course?”

“She did, and so did Vickie. They seem drawn to one another, so don't be surprised if you come out of this with a second daughter.”

“We'd like that, Herb and I both. Now, one last bit of good news: we've recovered your homing device. I'll bring it along to the bar this evening.”

After Julia hung up, Ian turned back to Samantha, who informed him that Crummy had an office inside the mammoth warehouse on the basement level. After a quick detour to the cafeteria to offload the lanyards, this would be his next destination. He just hoped that his diaper would hold up until he was safely returned to the cozy confines of his own office.

. . . .

“A hundred adult diapers!” The young clerk glared at Janis, looked down at the order form, and then looked at her anew. “And a hundred vinyl pants … and fifty of the locking covers! What the hell is this about? Are you converting Four into a geriatric ward or something?”

“No … no,” Janis stuttered. “Marcia Mason sent me down to collect these. Why, is there … is there a problem?”

“Oh, we can fill the requisition,” he sneered, “but I need to know whether this is daily or weekly, a one-off or a scheduled order. The only department in the building that does this kind of a draw down on the inventory is the Psych ward.”

“I'm not sure,” Janis confessed. “Marcia and Gayle are interviewing the sorority girls who went around stealing diapers … trying to fit them in as candy stripers. We all … that is … they all have to wear and use diapers until they graduate. That's part of the sentence: no diapers, no probation.”

“Hey! You said 'we'. You one of the diaper thieves?”

He looked down at her dress, but he couldn't detect a bulge.

“Are you wearing one now,” he pushed.

“Yeh … yes,” Janis blushed.

“Cool! Can I see?”

“See what?”

“Your diaper, Silly. Your diaper!”

Blushing furiously, Janis lifted the hem of her dress just enough to give him a glimpse of the canvas cover.

“Cool,” the now wide-eyed clerk repeated. “Totally cool!”

“You … you like the fact that I'm wearing a diaper?” Janis was mystified by his reaction.

“It's hot! I mean … you know … it's hot, but it's totally cool. Can you dig it?”

“Dig what?” Janis was way beyond lost and nowhere near found.

“Your diaper! Don't you dig it? You're wearing a diaper!”

“Yes, and I'm trapped! I have to use it for number one, and number two!”

“Awesome … totally, freaking awesome! Hey, when I get off work? Do you want to go smoke some weed? I've got a stash of Colombian that is outta sight!”

“Wait … wait, you want to go out with me because I'm wearing a diaper?”

“Absolutely! I mean, sure … you're freaking awesome, and it's so totally cool!”

“Um … I've never tried pot … my parents ...”

“Your parents? That's, like, totally lame. Parents!”

“Uh, okay … uh … what's your name?”

“Elvis. You know? Like Costello?”

“Sure. Can I think about it? I mean … right now I have to collect these supplies …”

“Cool. Do you know where everything's stashed?”

“Absolutely! I've done this before.”

“Cool! Well, let me know if you need any help.”

“Thanks, Elvis!” Janis manufactured what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I'll wave to you on the way out!”

“Cool,” Elvis leered as Janis pushed her cart deeper into the warehouse. She was walking just like a toddler.

“Cool,” he repeated as she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

“Totally cool.”

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT:  in response to reader requests, I have begun posting bundles of scenes from HOMAGE in the STORIES platform, with the comments removed to make it easier to read.  The fourth bundle (scenes 9-12) went up today, which completes the first narrative arc of season 1.  Mike has two more bundles (13-17 and 18-21) in hand, and these will appear in due course.  

[CCApril]

On 6/13/2024 at 12:40 PM, Babypants said:

I was born and raised in Scandia! Graduated Forest Lake High

Go Rangers! Find the right classroom and flip the right ceiling tile you will find several signatures from past D&D club members. The only mark I left on that school (Unless you count getting all the payphones shut down for asking the operator inappropriate questions about her underwear.)  

Good to see Tippi is getting some help. Can't wait for the drinking to start!

[CDfm]

Awesome chapter.  You really don’t realize what a logistical nightmare it would be to have to keep that many adults in diapers full time.  I know anyone you tell that you are going to be needing that many diapers on a weekly basis is just having their mind blown. 
Sarah is mad learning about Ian’s past.  She doesn’t know about the upcoming drinking challenge.  She might have her mind blown for an entirely different reason.  I am looking forward to the contest. 

[Babypants]

This question is also the equivalent of Trivial Pursuit for $1,000:

Ten years in the future, a team of scientists in New York will discover that Tippi's inability to gain weight is due to a genetic defect inherited from her mother.  Because Vickie's friend Mark Chambrey took out a gene patent, Tippi was destined to become one of the wealthiest women in the country once it was understood that the defect could be engineered for the use of weight loss programs.

WHAT IS THIS GENETIC DEFECT?

[littlebopeeper]

"Janis was way beyond lost and nowhere near found."  Great line.  She's rapidly becoming my favorite character, and this is exactly where she's at.

[littlebopeeper]

On 6/17/2024 at 8:55 PM, Babypants said:

WHAT IS THIS GENETIC DEFECT?

Stumped again!

[mushy bottom]

Great story.  Solid plot + characters that are well defined rather than cookie cutter stereotypes.  Thanks for posting the first12 chapters with comments removed.  A lot easier to read.

[Babypants]

On 6/20/2024 at 9:00 PM, mushy bottom said:

Great story.  Solid plot + characters that are well defined rather than cookie cutter stereotypes.  Thanks for posting the first12 chapters with comments removed.  A lot easier to read.

Thanks much for the compliments.  And think you for visiting the Stories section of the site.  There's a lot of good stuff over there, but it's not clear how much traffic that area gets.

[Babypants]

GIRDING FOR BATTLE

Liberated from the lanyards, and with the black marker pen safely housed in other hands, Ian set out on the next leg of his long day's journey toward drunken night. Although a clock was definitely ticking, he was taking it slow, using a supply cart as a makeshift walker, determined not to embarrass himself by crashing to the floor of yet another corridor. He breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when he finally opened the door to enter the cavernous realm of the warehouse, a young clerk hovering behind a counter directly ahead.

“Good morning. I'm looking for Crummy,” Ian spat out as he approached the counter. “Is he around?”

“Yeh, man … over there.” The clerk nodded towards a small office off to Ian's right. “But you can't go in there! Staff only … and you don't look like staff!”

“I'm not, but Gayle Soderberg sent me down here to pick Crummy's brain. Lullaby Diaper Service needs about fifteen hundred adult diapers and accessories, and I'm the middle man.”

“Let me guess, man. This is about the sorority girls that are going to be wearing diapers for the duration. That's cool, man; I dig it.”

“You've heard what happened? All the way down here?” Ian was impressed.

“Nah. One of the girls came in just ahead of you. She's raiding the supply bins as we speak. Spiffy chick, man … I mean, real down low. We're gonna do some weed when I get done here.”

“Really,” Ian smiled. “Sorry to bend your elbow, but she's shining you on. I brought some grade A shit back with me from sampan land, and she's not interested, so a dime bag of Maui Wowie isn't going to score.”

“Bummer, man … serious bummer. I was looking forward to sniffing her butt after she dumps a load in her diaper. A seriously new kind of high. Can you dig it?”

“Works for me, but she's high class. Way out of our league. Say, what's your name?”

“Elvis, man. You know? Like Costello?”

“Scrape me, Elvis,” Ian exclaimed as he held out his hand. “Accidents Will Happen is my middle name.”

“That why you wearing one of our diapers,” Elvis asked. “Sorry, man, but it's kinda obvious.”

“No harm, no foul … can you dig? Now, about Crummy ...”

“No biggie, man … just minding the candy store. Hey, Crummy! You got a visitor!”

Giving Elvis a thumbs up, Ian casually strolled the short distance to the nerve center of the hospital complex.

. . . .

Janis was in a quandary. The canvas diaper covers had been easy, especially since the keys were pinned to one of the O rings on each pair. She knew that the diapers would present no challenge since they were all the same size. All she had to do was stack them a hundred deep on her cart, and that would be that. The vinyl baby pants were a different story altogether. Holding a pair sized small, she had her doubts.

Our diapers are monstrous! Tip might be able to squeeze into this pair, but surely no one else in the house would even come close! So, maybe three of these for Tip …

I'm pretty average, but I'm wearing a large. Kim's gonna need extra-large … ah, here we are!

Methodically, Janis ran each of her forty sisters through her imagination, trying to picture the heavy diaper tightly pinned around each and every waist. If the vinyl pant was too loose, it would leak at the thighs; if it was too snug, it would never get pulled up into place.

While she worked, Janis was vaguely aware that her bladder needed relief, while the jailhouse breakfast was starting to make its presence felt in her bowels. It was only a matter of time before she would be using her diaper, not simply wearing it. And to her infinite embarrassment, Janis realized that she didn't know how best to go about peeing and pooping herself. She was so frustrated that she wanted to scream.

I NEED ADVICE! I NEED SOMEONE TO TEACH ME HOW TO DO THIS!

Janis looked up at the ceiling, but if she had a guardian angel, she was nowhere to be found.

. . . .

“Jerry Cromwell, I presume.”

Ian had knocked lightly on the door of the cramped office, the gunmetal desk and swivel chair dwarfed by the tall filing cabinets that lined the walls.

“One and the same,” Crummy replied as he looked up to take the measure of his uninvited guest. “And you are?”

“Professor Ian Grady, and I come in peace.”

A big smile creased the balding, middle-aged man's face. “It's an honor to meet you, Major, and welcome to my lair. Your reputation precedes you, and I'm not talking about the one you've earned inside these walls.”

“Sorry, but I don't follow.”

“I was a lifer, Major … a supply sergeant at Cam Ranh Bay at the same time you were in country. All those crazy orders that you put in … remember the two hundred pounds of live Maine lobster that you had us fly in? A lot of your orders and requisitions passed through my hands. Is it true that you were hand feeding that pet python of yours?"

“Heineken beer,” Ian grinned. “And Pete's still going strong.”

“Good to hear it,” Jerry smiled. “For us supply guys, the war wasn't half bad. Not like for you guys out in the bush. Anyway, what's up?”

“Gayle Soderberg sent me down. Hopefully, she's finding a place in the candy striper program for the forty-one sorority girls we nabbed stealing diapers around town. Spats Belmondo was not amused ...”

“Not someone you want for an enemy.” Jerry steepled his fingers while he thought about it. “The guy's got his fingers in a lot of different pies.”

“I bought him off, and a big part of the arrangement is for the girls to wear and use diapers 24/7 for the rest of their stay at the University-- his diapers. But Harriet Belmondo, who manages the diaper service for him, doesn't have the inventory. Gayle is going to tide Lullaby over out of your stock, but we need to lay our hands on fifteen hundred to two thousand for the long haul. Gayle suggested that we take some off your hands at a discount, and/or buy new … using your services to get the best wholesale price possible.”

“You're going to need more than two thousand … a lot more.”

“Harriet calculates that the girls will be going through thirty-five a week; that's a bit less than fifteen hundred.”

“Yeah, but you measure the life expectancy of the diapers in terms of the number of times they can go through the laundry cycle. You're going to get one hundred to … yeah, a hundred twenty five max. So, count on two years for brand new diapers, maybe a bit more if your equipment is top of the industrial line. If you buy our used, you get what you get … no guarantees.”

Jerry reached for an adding machine. “Do you know the total number of months these girls are down for?”

“No.” Ian shook his head. “It could be anywhere from six months to three and a half years. Damn. I'll sit down with the girls around six, and sort this out. Can I pass the number to Harriet, and let her deal with you directly?”

“Sure thing.” Jerry took a piece of scratch paper, and wrote down his number. “This bypasses the switchboard. If I'm here, I'll pick up.”

“Many thanks.” Ian held out his hand.

“My pleasure,” Jerry said as they shook. “Amos says that, for an officer, you're all right. Purple Hearts still count for a lot in the ranks.”

“A couple of them were hard earned,” Ian sighed.

“Yeah,” the now rotund supply sergeant agreed. He was looking at the bulky diaper girdling the Major's loins. “Yeah, I guess they were.”

. . . .

“Janis, we really do need to stop meeting like this!”

Ian had come up on her in the corridor. Janis was visibly struggling to push a supply cart piled so high with diapers that they towered over her head.

“Professor Grady! Oh, thank God!”

“You look like you could use some help. Pushing this monster is a job for two.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I have to get up to Four, and I'm afraid that the cart will tip when I try to wheel it onto the elevator.”

“Then you go in first. I'll push, you pull, and between us we'll get the job done.”

Ian slid in close beside her, and lent his weight to hers to get the cart back in motion.

“I need your help with something else,” Janis whispered, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. She was way beyond embarrassed.

“If I can.” Ian smiled encouragingly. “Fire away.”

“I need to pee,” she confessed, “and very soon I'll need to do number two. And I don't know how! In a diaper, I mean.”

“Ah,” Ian muttered as he caught on. While they continued to push the cart down the corridor, he gave it some thought.

“Probably best to pee a bit here and pee a bit there rather than flood the diaper. Too much, too fast, and you could end up leaking. You're not incontinent, Janis, so it's a matter of muscle control. You can control this, though it might take a bit of practice in the beginning.”

“And pooping?”

“Tougher call. My diet is heavy on breast milk, which makes my stool mushy. It oozes out, and runs wherever it can find room in my diaper. But you're probably expelling large chunks, which don't have much wiggle room in a tightly pinned diaper.”

“This is really tight,” Janis admitted. “Doctor Stevenson knows what she's doing.”

“That she does,” Ian agreed; “that she does.”

“The elevator is just ahead,” Janis warned.

“Not a problem,” he assured her-- and it wasn't.

“In the beginning, when I was eating a lot of food that was slow to digest, I had these long, fat chunks that … well, it was like hitting a brick wall when they shot out, and most of them got stuck half way!”

“Oh, yuck,” Janis exclaimed as the elevator slowed. They were nearing the fourth floor, and they stopped talking while they concentrated on muscling the cart out of the elevator.

“Anyway, nature must be served, so I sat down anywhere I could find, jiggled my butt to get the stuff spread out, then stood back up to let my body finish taking care of business. It was nasty stuff for the nurses stuck with changing me, so they took charge of my diet … lots and lots of high fiber foods. After that, things got a lot easier, and now the breast milk has pretty much eliminated the problem altogether.”

“So, today … right now … if it gets stuck? I have to sit down, wiggle around, and turn it into a poopy pancake? That's beyond gross!”

“And it'll probably stink too,” Ian laughed sympathetically. “Had that happen a few times,” he added.

“But who's going to change me,” Janis quaked, trying hard to keep her voice down. “It's disgusting.”

“Well, if you can have a BM before we get back on the bus, Marcia will do it. At the house? I suppose Bernice will change you. Do you have a housekeeper?”

“Sure … a housekeeper and a cook, but they aren't paid to change diapers. And poor Missus Miller can't do this all by herself! She needs help!”

“How about your boyfriend?”

“I don't have one! I'll probably never have one! What boy would want to even touch a girl who pees and poops herself? I'm going to be an old maid!”

“Doubtful,” Ian smiled. “Elvis thinks you're hot; he even wants to sniff your poopy bottom.”

“That guy? He's weird, and he smokes pot! How did he get a job here?”

“Not sure, though I did write him a letter of recommendation.”

“What! No way!”

Looking at Ian's face, seeing the humor dancing in his eyes, Janis started to giggle, and then she started laughing helplessly. And then her eyes went wide. “Oh, no!” Without thinking, Janis reached out to clutch Ian's arm. “I just … I just peed myself! And I can't stop. Oh, God!”

“Hush.” Ian swept her into his arms and patted her back, trying to calm her. “It's going to feel like walking around in a damp bathing suit. You'll be fine.”

“I need someone to change me,” she whispered, fiercely holding onto his shoulders with her upturned hands.

“Marcia will take a peek, but unless you're really soaked, she'll leave you be because your diaper will hold a lot. Believe me, Janis: you'll be fine.”

“Now,” he concluded, “did you leave one of the keys on Marcia's desk, as you were instructed to do?”

“Uh huh,” Janis whispered again.

“Then let's get this cart where it's supposed to go, and get back downstairs. We're not getting out of here until all forty-one of you are properly diapered, and that has to be sooner rather than later because I have a class to teach less than ninety minutes from now. Andiamo, Bellissima!”

. . . .

“Lookin' good, Tip; those blue scrubs are really you!”

Melanie was grinning from ear to ear, affectionately rubbing it in. “And that diaper? Wow! You've finally got the ass that you've always wanted! You'll need a stick to beat the boys off!”

Tippi grimaced, visibly stalling while she tried to come up with a suitable comeback.

“You know who else wears this particular diaper, Mel? Godzilla! It took me ten minutes to get my jeans up, but I could never get the snap closed. A kind hearted nurse in the Psych ward took pity on me, and loaned me her threads. So, guess what all of us are going to be doing this weekend … shopping for new clothes!”

“Shopping,” Cindy exclaimed. “Galleria here I come!”

“I'll drive,” Vickie laughed as she rubbed her hand up and down her own well padded rear.

Still at loose ends while she waited for Ian to return, she had been passing the time by getting acquainted with some of the girls. After their interviews, they were milling around, waiting for Janis to come back and the trips to the fourth floor and diaper purgatory to commence.

For her part, Vickie felt like she was doing The Time Warp, once again in her element. PISS was the only place she had ever lived that truly felt like home, her sisters in the house her one true family. Melanie … Cindy … the easy going way in which the girls related to one another was forcefully reminding Vic of what she had once enjoyed, only somehow to let it slip away.

“You seem so comfortable with your diaper,” Joyce Wiggins observed. “Have you been wearing one for a long time?”

“Less than a week,” Vickie laughed, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “It's actually kind of fun, and diaper changes are a hoot! Try and imagine the look on your boyfriend's face the first time you tell him that you need your diaper changed … hint, hint.”

“He'll run for the hills,” Kimberly flatly declared.

“Otherwise known as Kim's boobs,” Melanie chortled. “Our very own Fraulein D Cup!”

“Try telling him that you think you're getting a diaper rash,” Vickie suggested. “Ask him to rub lotion all over your butt … ask him to take his time, and do it right. Still think that he's going to run away?”

“You're right.” Imagining the moment, Kim was grinning wickedly. “He'll end up sporting the hard on to end all hard ons! My poor baby!”

“Always remember: forbidden fruit is the tastiest fruit of all!”

“And forbidden it shall remain,” Cindy groaned, “because we won't have the keys to these canvas covers-- and neither will our boyfriends!”

“Are you sure?” Vickie had an equally mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Because as I understand it, the court has put Ian in charge of you for the whole of your probation, and the Judge is leaving it up to him to work out the details. So, get your grades up, and keep your noses clean. He has a kind heart, and like every knight in shining armor, he is vulnerable to a damsel in distress!”

“Our sorority Dad,” Joyce sighed. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“I'm going to be changing his diapers,” Tippi smugly announced.

“SAY WHAT!!” Cindy was stunned, but no more so than any of her sisters.

“When the Batgirl goes back to her cave, Sarah … his fiancee … will need someone to take her place-- someone she can trust. I'm the ideal candidate because I'm going to be wearing this chastity belt for the next three and a half years. She's going to mentor me, and in return she wants me to keep an eye on him … keep him out of trouble. It's a fair trade.”

Tippi was watching Vickie out of the corner of her eye. She didn't know what the lady doctor's diapers were all about, but it would be fun, she thought, to babysit her as well.

And if we can somehow get the Batgirl to start wearing diapers, I would be only too happy to take charge of all three of them ... And I would definitely keep them out of trouble!

“Speaking of our new Dad ...” Melanie was looking over Tip's shoulder. “He just walked in with Janis.”

“Then it's time to face the music,” Cindy sighed. “Come on girls! Let us charge boldly towards our diapered fate!”

“Ian!” Vickie shouted to get his attention. “We need to get back upstairs … to Rita's office! Suzie wants to speak with you … says it's urgent!”

Ian nodded, turned to whisper something in Janis's ear, and then used his fingers to pantomime walking down the corridor.

Excusing herself from the circle of her newfound friends, Vickie rushed to Ian's side, and together they headed for the elevator that would whisk them aloft. Janis reported to Marcia that they were ready to proceed, and in a matter of moments she was leading a half dozen of her sisters to the elevator that she had just exited. When they returned to the cafeteria to await transport back to the house, they would all be heavily diapered. It remained to be seen whether any of the girls would still be able to fit into their pants.

. . . .

Bernice looked up when Vickie and Ian walked into the office.

“Let me summarize.” Bernice had decided to be blunt. “Once the word gets out that you work for the CIA, Suzie's afraid that the hard left student groups will start howling for your head. The campus will play host to sit-ins and demonstrations, all carefully orchestrated for the local news shows. I share her concern.”

Priscilla got up from her seat, and offered it to Ian.

“She apparently has a plan to nip this in the bud,” Bernice went on, “but it requires your approval. In your situation, I would take all of this very seriously.”

Ian slid into the vacant chair, thinking about it. Kent State and its riotous aftermath had come and gone while he was prepping for the raid on North Viet Nam, and then carrying it out. The Left had moved on during the long months of his hospitalization, the feminist revolution now in full swing. America's humiliating withdrawal from Saigon lay more than four years in the past, and no one in the US looked to be picking a side in the current conflict between China and Viet Nam. Would anyone on campus care about this sort of thing any more? Ian suddenly realized that he really didn't know much about the popular causes of the moment for the simple reason that he hadn't been paying attention. Common sense dictated that he defer to Bernice and Suzie.

“Let's give her a call.”

Rita dialed, and Suzie picked up on the first ring.

“Vickie and Ian are here,” Rita began; you're still on speaker.”

“Hi, Suzie,” Ian cut in. “First things, first: thank you for last night. You were very patient, and very sweet. Now, I gather that you've come up with a plan to keep me from walking into a firestorm when we get back to campus. What have you got in mind?”

“My first thought was to round up some frat boys to help Priscilla maintain order, but a few bloody noses would be playing right into the hands of our friends on the Left. So, I want to avoid a confrontation, and the best way to do that is to go behind the scenes and pointedly remind our esteemed President that the university has a lot to lose financially if it picks a fight with the government. I figure that the best person to make the call is your boss, but not until I've schooled him on who and what to threaten around here.”

Suzie was impatiently drumming her fingers on her desk. “The CIA is in the phone book, Ian; did you know that?”

“No … uh … actually, I didn't.” Ian was squirming in his chair, and visibly turning pale.

“I can call the number here in front of me, and run the gauntlet until I reach someone who'll take me seriously, but things will go a lot more quickly if you get on the horn, give the Director my number, and tell him to get back to me … preferably yesterday. Sorry to put you on the spot like this-- Priscilla told me that decisions can be a flash point for you-- but we are running out of time.”

Ian could feel the room beginning to spin. He closed his eyes, trying to ward off the sensation that he was being pulled into the vortex, being sucked down, back to his last battlefield and all the horrors that had followed.

Priscilla didn't wait. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the ampule, and cracked it under Ian's nose. She was not about to let him lose consciousness, not about to let the decaying corpses in that far-off village lay claim to still another piece of his soul.

[Babypants]

Quickie cultural quiz:

Which country currently has the highest per capita use of marijuana in the world:

A.  Canada

B.  Israel

C.  Netherlands

D.  Thailand

E.  United States

[littlebopeeper]

Neat opening.  Ian speaks hippie and  identifies with Elvis Costello, and Vickie sneaks off to take in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Wonder if Sarah has any idea that her two babies might be doing pot.

Does anybody know whether breast milk tastes better when you're high?

[mushy bottom]

Really great characters, and thanks for the behind the scenes look at a real diaper service.  Learning a lot here.