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

[mushy bottom]

On 6/23/2024 at 9:22 PM, Babypants said:

Netherlands

Seems obvious.

[CDfm]

I enjoyed this chapter.  First the mental image of 40 young girls all wearing thick diapers in the hospital cafeteria made me chuckle. 
I am not quite sure why Ian would have reacted that way for a decision that really wasn’t much of a decision.  He really had no choice.  He has to go along with Suzie’s plan. 
I will be looking forward to seeing more. 

[Babypants]

On 6/28/2024 at 12:48 PM, mushy bottom said:

Seems obvious.

It does seem obvious, especially since Vincent Vega is returning from getting high in Amsterdam at the start of Pulp Fiction.  But surprisingly, this is not the right answer!  Who will try again?

[Bobbyca]

From the available selections, it's Canada.  I was surprised, although here in Ontario, there seems to a weed shop on every corner.  Who'd have thunk?

[littlebopeeper]

On 6/23/2024 at 9:22 PM, Babypants said:

B.  Israel

I looked it up, and this really shocked me.  I would have also guessed the Netherlands, with Thailand second and then the US and Canada.  But a google search reveals that 27% of Israel's population regularly use marijuana.  I'd really like to know where they get it from.

[Babypants]

5 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

I looked it up, and this really shocked me.  I would have also guessed the Netherlands, with Thailand second and then the US and Canada.  But a google search reveals that 27% of Israel's population regularly use marijuana.  I'd really like to know where they get it from.

The answer blew me away.  Israel imports over a third of Canada's medical marijuana product.  It has a thriving marijuana industry of its own-- and a long history of cannabis use.  Traces were found during the excavation of an 8th century BC shrine inside the fortress of Tel Arad!  

[Babypants]

Wow!  50,000 views for 60 scenes is about twice what I thought this story would draw over time.  Many thanks to all those who have tuned in, and especially to those who have taken the time to leave comments.  I have integrated readers' suggestions into the tale more than once.  I enjoy hearing from you, and hope that you will continue to find this an interesting read going forward.

[Babypants]

ELAINE

“I recognize the area code, but not the number. That you, Street?”

“In the proverbial flesh, Donnie. Just another working stiff paying his dues. How goes it on your end?”

The Deputy Director leaned back in his chair. 'Proverbial' was code for 'in a group of friendlies'. 'Stiff' meant 'pay close attention', and the question said that Ian was unsure of his ground. In short, the ball was about to land in Donnie Freeman's court.

“Elaine sends her best, and the girls want to know when their favorite uncle is coming to dinner!”

Roughly translated, Donnie was saying 'message received', and asking how urgent the crisis was this time.

“Next trip east, but I have no idea what to get Jennifer for her birthday.”

Immediate. High priority, but use your own judgment.

Jennifer was Donnie's eldest. Ian would have used Alison, the Freeman's middle daughter, to indicate 'soon'. Roberta, the youngest, was code for 'when you can get around to it'.

“Donnie, we're on speaker, so let me introduce you to some of the ladies in my life. I'm here with Doctors Robinson and Stevenson, Vickie and Rita respectively.”

“We meet at last,” Donnie boomed. “I'm Donald Freeman, one of Langley's Deputy Directors. Ian and I go back a long way. He took a bullet for me in February of sixty eight, and then we shared a hospital room in the Philippines for a couple of months. I'm honored that he's asked me to be his Best Man.”

“Vic and I are looking forward to meeting you in person,” Rita replied. “Will your wife be coming?”

“All five of us,” Donnie laughed. “And if you need a flower girl, Roberta will happily volunteer. She's our youngest.”

“Priscilla Canon,” Ian went on.

“Officer Canon, it's a pleasure. We have a slot waiting for you at Quantico; just let Ian know when you're ready to ship out.”

“Not until Athens is behind us,” Priscilla grinned. “When Irina's around, Ian definitely needs a bodyguard!”

Rita and Vickie looked at her curiously. They were both thinking that Sarah was right: Ian definitely wasn't sharing all of his secrets … at least, not with them.

“And I am honored to introduce Missus Bernice Miller, who is the house manager of Zeta Alpha Pi, one of our sororities. She defines grace, Donnie … and her husband fell on Hill 255.”

“Then I am equally honored,” Donnie said-- and he meant it. Princeton, and the United States Army, ran through the generations of Donnie's family, as well as Elaine's. Her father had served in the OSS, and Ian and Colonel Wendell Oliver were very close. Both had waged war in the shadows, and both had received medals that could never be publicly acknowledged. They were hidden away in a secure vault at Langley.

“To business,” Ian concluded. “Do you remember Suzie Marshall?”

“I do.”

With Vickie on the call, Donnie chose to leave it at that.

“She has confirmed that my connection to the Agency has become public knowledge, and is spreading across the student body. She and Bernice both believe that left wing student groups are going to raise the kind of hue and cry that makes its way into the nightly news. Suzie wants to talk with you, one on one … pass you information that you can use to pressure the university President, and make this all go away. If it helps, the campus police chief is both an enthusiastic proponent of law and order, and a friend of Bernice's of many years standing.”

Over a thousand miles away, a huge smile creased Donnie Freeman's rugged features. It wasn't hard to read between the lines-- in fact, Ian's message was coming through loud and clear.

“Give me her number, Street, and I'll give her a call. Better yet, I'll have Elaine give her a call. She's a Kappa through and through, so she and Suzie will at least be speaking the same language.”

And this won't be the first time that Lainie has fronted for the Agency …

“But no promises, okay?”

Ian couldn't help but grin. Elaine Oliver Freeman was the sister that he had never had, and Alison and Roberta were his goddaughters. The four Freeman girls could always be counted on to hold Donnie's feet to the fire. Ian wondered who would make the call. Would it be Donnie, or the Director himself?

. . . .

“This reeks,” Cindy complained. “Blue scrubs are definitely not my color!”

Like Tippi, Cindy had discovered that Godzilla's diaper couldn't really be muscled into a pair of tight fitting jeans. She was also on the hook for a new wardrobe.

“I can make do with Kim's pants,” Melanie noted, “but where does that leave Kim?”

In her senior year, Kimberly had led her high school basketball team to the state tournament championship game, where she had suffered a heartbreaking two point loss. She was the tallest girl in the sorority, and the nurses on the fourth floor had been unable to find anything to fit over her diaper. She was returning to the cafeteria with a hospital gown tied around her waist like a makeshift sarong, and it would have to do until she got back to the house. Kimberly suspected that she would be spending hours on the phone, pleading with equally lanky girls in the others sororities for something, anything, to wear to class on Friday morning.

“Don't worry, Kim!” Melanie patted her on the back. “When we're walking out to the bus, you get in the middle, we'll cover you, and no one will be any the wiser.”

Kim and Melanie hugged, both of them trying to take the measure of their tight fitting diapers. In groups of four and six, the diapered sorority girls gradually returned to the cafeteria to await Professor Grady. They all knew that the bus would drop them at the curb, and that they would have to run a gauntlet of hooting and jeering frat boys as they made their way up the driveway and into the house.

And without exception, each and every one of the girls was giving thought to the inevitability of ending up in a poopy diaper, and being unable to change herself. Some dreaded this state of abject dependency, while others found the prospect secretly thrilling. After a bit of experimentation, three of the girls quickly discovered that there was a way to rub the massive diaper against their clits, and get a reaction. Imagining themselves locked helplessly in perpetual chastity, each rode the wave to its crest, and bathed in the afterglow of a quiet yet satisfying orgasm.

Although she would never openly admit it, Joyce Wiggins was definitely of the opinion that her diaper offered some really kinky possibilities.

. . . .

“Good morning. I'd like to speak with Suzie Marshall, please.”

“Speaking.”

“Miss Marshall, my name is Elaine Freeman, and I'm …"

“Excuse me, Miss Freeman. I don't wish to be rude, but I'm expecting an important call, and I need to keep this line clear.”

“I have three children, Miss Marshall, and Ian Grady is godfather to my two youngest. This is your important call.”

“You're Ian's boss at the CIA?” Suzie was incredulous, and Elaine could hear it in her voice.

“No,” Elaine laughed, “not at all. Technically, Ian doesn't work for the Agency, but my husband does, and Ian is his closest friend. If you're wondering, my husband is a Deputy Director, and the guy who sends Ian gallivanting all over the world. They have been doing favors for one another … well … for a very long time.”

“Ever since his daughter ...”

“Precisely.”

This was a subject very close to Elaine's heart. Sitting quietly, watching Ian playing in the back yard with the girls while their father sweated over the BBQ grill, Elaine had shed quiet tears more than once, tears safely hidden away behind her dark glasses. Ian loved the girls, and they loved him just as passionately in return. He connected with children, and it infuriated her that he had been denied the joy of raising his daughter. Periodically, Elaine felt compelled to remind her husband that the search for Linh was about far more than national security. This was about family, and the honoring of one's debt to others.

“So, you know why I want to speak with your husband ...”

“Yes. Miss Marshall ...”

“Please! Call me Suzie.”

“And I'm Elaine … Lainie to my close friends. I'm a Princeton grad, Suzie, and a Kappa in good standing. Indeed, I serve on our national board as well as the chapter's. Since you and I both speak sorority, and I follow university affairs closely, Donnie thought that it would be more productive for the two of us to talk. Now, how can KAP be of help to PISS?”

“Ian's affiliation with your agency has gone public, and I'm betting that by late afternoon the tale, much embellished with each retelling, will have spread from one end of campus to the other. The usual groups will gather tonight to plot and scheme, and a sit-in at the President's office will follow tomorrow morning, along with demonstrations outside Ian's classrooms, and possibly his office.”

“The usual playbook,” Elaine observed.

Nationwide, the houses were conservative bedrock. Neither Suzie nor Elaine had any use for the semi-professional agitators spawned by the anti-war movement of the previous decade.

“And Friday is a slow news day, so they're sure to get live coverage.”

“And does your Faculty Assembly meet on the first Monday of the month?”

“It does,” Suzie concurred, “and no doubt some of the young Turks will offer a motion condemning the hiring of a veteran with blood on his hands.”

“Solution?”

“As it happens, the Dean who chairs the Assembly is an acquaintance of mine … an intimate acquaintance. If you'll pardon my French, I've got him by the balls, and he well knows how much I enjoy squeezing them. The Assembly won't be a problem.”

“Which leaves the university president.”

“A good, old boy who's scared of his own shadow. He will bend with the breeze, so I want your husband to hit him with a gale force wind. Preferably tonight. The housekeeper is off on Thursdays, and El Presidente likes a martini in the library at six thirty sharp. Make the call ten minutes later, and he will pick up.”

“Vulnerabilities?”

“Money, of course. He's there to rake it in, so your husband should gently threaten to take it away. Federal funding of faculty travel is terribly competitive these days, isn't it? And then there are the grants from the National Science Foundation and the NIH. Audits can be rough, and faculty are not known for their bookkeeping skills. A probe could yield embarrassing results; I'd drop the word 'scandal' into the conversation.”

“Suzie, you are a woman after my own heart. Does Ian know what you're doing?”

“Of course not. As far as he's concerned, we're talking about the wedding, and how many bedrooms you'll need for your family. It goes without saying that you will be my guests while you are in town. Oh, and you should know that tonight Ian will be strutting his stuff in a cop bar-- a drinking contest with something called Hong Kong Rules. If the press corner him tomorrow, hangover aside, he won't have a clue.”

“Hong Kong Rules? Oh, dear God!”

“That bad?”

“Suzie, it's basically drink until you pass out. Ian did an R&R in Hong Kong that is the stuff of legends. First, he got smashed; then, he wandered the streets looking for Suzie Wong! As the story goes, the cops found him passed out in a gutter, and more or less carried him back to his hotel. Someone actually put him to bed, and I know damn well that it wasn't Suzie Wong!”

The two women shrieked with laughter, but Suzie wasn't quite done. She recommended that Donnie encourage El Presidente to defend the students' right to protest, but only outside, where it would not interrupt classes and violate the rights of other students. At the very end of November, the Quad would benefit from a little heated rhetoric, and this being a typical Minnesota winter, cooler heads would definitely prevail.

. . . .

“No, Janis … I'm sorry, but no.”

“But I'm wet, Sylvie; you said it yourself." Janis was whining like a petulant two year old. “I'm wet, and it's sooo uncomfortable!”

After frantically locking over three dozen sorority girls into their diapers and baby pants, Sylvia Anderson's patience was at an end. This was easily the most bizarre shift that she had ever experienced in her long years on the floor, and she just wanted a break from the semi-organized chaos. She simply wasn't in the mood to humor Janis Marsden.

“Janis, you're a little damp, but that's it. This diaper can take several more wettings, and then and only then are you going to be changed. Think! Right now, you are wearing one of our diapers, at no cost. But soon you will be wearing a diaper from Lullaby's service, and the more diapers you use, the more it's going to cost you or your parents.”

“But I ...”

“No buts, Janis!” Sylvia had unlocked Janis' cover, and performed the standard diaper check. The girl hadn't messed, and her diaper was barely wet.

“I swear, if you were my daughter, I'd take you into a vacant room, close the door, put you over my knee, and give you a good spanking. You are acting like a spoiled toddler, and I'm not going to put up with it. If you want me to change you ...”

Hands on hips, Sylvia glared at Janis.

“If you want me to change you,” she repeated more calmly, “all you have to do is stand there and poop yourself. Then I'll change you. So, get to it. Squat, twist your nose the way toddlers do when they're just about to soil themselves, and I'll happily change you.”

Janis began to sniffle, and then she reached up to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sylvia thought that Janis must have been an adorable toddler.

And in some ways, she still is.

“I'm waiting, Janis, but I don't have all day.”

Hands still on hips, her expression cold and businesslike, Sylvia continued to stare Janis down. The other girls had taken their punishment like adults, but at heart Janis really did seem more like a child. The trauma of being arrested, and now of being returned to diapers, had stripped away much of her fragile claim to being a mature young woman.

“It's time for you to join the others, Janis.” Sylvia nodded in the direction of the elevator that would send her on her way to the cafeteria. “But come back a little before three, and I'll check your diaper last thing before going home. If you're wet enough, I'll change you then.”

“But that's hours away,” Janis protested. “I can't hold it that long! I'll be soaked! I'll leak!”

“Nonsense,” Sylvia scoffed. “Your diaper can take whatever you dish out, and still be ready for more. In fact, this is a lesson that you need to learn, and now is as good a time as any. When Professor Grady returns to collect the keys, I will instruct him not to change you under any circumstances. The sooner you get used to wearing a soaking wet diaper, the better! And just you wait … just you wait until you experience your first diaper rash!”

Janis shuffled her feet as she began to sniffle more loudly.

“You're not a baby, Janis,” Sylvia concluded. “But you sure are acting like one. Now go!”

Sylvia angrily pointed at the elevator, and head down, her diaper all but invisible under her dress, Janis slowly walked away. Riding down to the basement, all she wanted to do was go home, and let her mommy take care of her.

. . . .

“Are we still on speaker,” Donnie asked. Rita had picked up on the first ring.

“We are,” she confirmed.

“Street, I just got off the phone with Elaine. It sounds like she and Suzie really hit it off., and everything's taken care of. Suzie will put the five of us up during the wedding free of charge, and she gave us a lot of tips about the realities of life in Minnesota during the wintertime. I've got one more call to make this evening to get things squared away, but I expect it to go smoothly. See you on the flip side.”

“Thanks, Donnie. I'm having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that Jennifer is now a teenager. How did the years slip away?”

“Too many balls in the air, I suppose. I thank God for Lainie every day. Oh, and don't forget to send the Colonel a wedding invitation. He may or may not attend, but he would be hurt if you didn't remember him.”

“I will be hurt if he doesn't come, and I have the perfect place for him to stay.”

Ian was smiling at Bernice. He knew how much Wendell Oliver would enjoy her company. He was still smiling when Rita hung up.

“Well, Secret Agent Man,” Priscilla grinned. “Report!”

“Elaine gave Suzie the stamp of approval, and told Donnie to proceed. I just have to get through the day, and Donnie will get the cat back into the bag sometime this evening.”

“All of that was somewhere in this conversation?” Vickie was dumbfounded. “What? Do the two of you speak in tongues?”

“Sort of. But Suzie is putting up the Freeman clan, and I do hope to persuade Bernice to host the Colonel for a night or two. Our conversations are always legitimate, but sometimes we choose our words rather carefully.”

“And now it's time for a diaper check,” Priscilla declared. Looking around the room, she started counting on her fingers. “Ian, do you realize that every woman in this room has changed your diapers at least once? Is there an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest number of women changing one guy's diapers?”

Ian just smiled. If there was such a record, he was fairly certain that he owned it.

“Can you … uh … just do it right here? We really do need to get going if I'm to have any chance of making it to my twelve thirty class.”

“Why not,” Priscilla grinned as she looked quickly around the room. It was obvious that her friends had no objection to seeing Ian with his pants down.

“But who, I wonder, should do the honors? I know! Bernice, you are going to be doing a lot of diaper checks for years to come, so here's your chance to show us your technique!”

Priscilla handed Bernice the key to Ian's diaper cover.

“Take off your jacket,” she ordered. After he draped it over the back of his chair, she unfastened his belt buckle, lowered the zipper, and eased his pants over the bulging mass of his diapers. With his trousers safely gathered around his ankles, she unlocked and loosened the cover just enough to allow her to reach in and feel inside the front of his baby pants. “You're damp,” she declared, “but not enough to warrant a change. Now, turn around so that I can check your bottom.”

Ian awkwardly shuffled until his back was fully turned. He felt Bernice pull the back of his vinyl pants aside. Bernice's new found friends all giggled when she bent over to inspect his back side. A narrow opening at the small of Ian's back allowed her to sniff the inside of his diaper.

“Still clean,” she announced as she stood up.

“Ah, how disappointing!” Vickie's laugh was wicked. “Auntie Vickie was so looking forward to watching auntie Bernice change the big baby's poopy diaper. Ah, well … maybe tonight!”

“Careful, Victoria,” Bernice warned. “At evening's end, I expect to be changing all three of you out of your wet and probably messy diapers. Which reminds me … who is the keeper of your key?”

“That would be me,” Rita admitted. “And the plan is for me to change her just before the fun gets under way, then again first thing in the morning.”

“And have the poor thing get a diaper rash?”

"She already has a diaper rash.”

“All the more reason for me to change her before she goes beddy-by … and doubtless in the morning as well. I'm still debating whether to send Priscilla off to work in a diaper, or let her have her big girl panties back. If it's a diaper, rest assured that all three of my big babies will have their baby pants pulled up, and their covers firmly locked in place!”

“Now, that would be a sight to behold,” Rita crowed. “Indeed, we could make a fortune if we sold tickets! But seriously … Ian, look me in the eye and tell me that you want to have a baby with Vickie.”

“With Vic, with Pris, with Sarah … and with you.”

Ian was looking her in the eye as he spoke, and he did not flinch. Everyone in the room knew that he was speaking from the heart.

“A drunken orgy is not what I have in mind-- not for any of us. So, how about this for a compromise? The three of you stay locked up when I leave the bar, but I'll drive over to the sorority house and keep Bernice company. When you stagger in, the two of us will pass judgment. Unlocked only long enough for a diaper change, or unlocked for the balance of the evening, to act on your feelings for one another. Ian, you keep insisting that you do not have a problem with alcohol. Well, here's your chance to prove it!”

. . . .

Resting his chin on dimpled fingers, Donnie thought about the rest of Elaine's conversation with Suzie Marshall-- the part that Suzie insisted was just between the three of them, and not to be shared with Ian. It was hard to quarrel with Suzie's core finding: they had been searching for eight years, and they had come up empty. It was time to chart a different path.

What Suzie didn't know was that Irina had been doing some heavy lifting, accessing records in Hanoi and Saigon both-- records that had made it increasingly clear that the massacre had been carried out neither by the Viet Cong nor by North Vietnamese regulars. If only by process of elimination, they were making progress.

But they were running out of time, and both Donnie and Ian knew it. Trafficking small children across international lines was a heck of a lot more difficult than transporting adults. Governments that turned a blind eye to one came down very hard on the other.

Suzie's proposal was bold, and then some. Instead of denying the truth, endorse it. Go public, and hold nothing back. Share Ian's story with the world, and ask the world to take up the search. Pressure the bastards, and be ready to pounce when they panicked and made a mistake. Stop messing about, and bring these children home.

Donnie Freeman was glad that it was not his decision to make. He would have to take a walk, down a long and luxuriously carpeted hallway to the Director's office. It was his decision to make, unless he decided to punt. There were only four men in the entire government who could break the seals on Ian Grady's file, and only one of them outranked the Director.

The President of the United States.

[CDfm]

Good chapter full of very interesting comments and some very humorous images being shared.  I can imagine there could well be a rush to the changing tables once things start flowing for the girls.  Bernice doesn’t want to have to deal with 40 girls experiencing diaper rash.  I can’t imagine all the complaining there would be. I’m looking forward to seeing more. 

[Babypants]

On 7/3/2024 at 8:11 PM, CDfm said:

I can imagine there could well be a rush to the changing tables once things start flowing for the girls.  Bernice doesn’t want to have to deal with 40 girls experiencing diaper rash.  I can’t imagine all the complaining there would be.

Good one!  Aardvark's next scene, which is a homage to the movie Slap Shot, brings the girls home, and thereafter we shall see how one goes about changing forty plus diapered sorority girls.  Poor Bernice is going to be drowning in diapers-- but help is riding to the rescue!

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz:

While striking a Jesus on the Cross pose, near the end of this blockbuster film Dustin Hoffmann screams out the name "Elaine" over and over again.  Are we watching:

A.  Kramer versus Kramer

B.  Rain Man

C.  The Graduate

D.  Tootsie

[mushy bottom]

An epic story. with an amazing cast of characters.  Kudos for the dive into sorority life.  Looking forward to the next chapter.

[mushy bottom]

C.  The Graduate

[littlebopeeper]

So, Priscilla is going to be diapered for the drinking contest, but may find herself still diapered in the morning.  And locked up.  If Bernice were to pass the keys to Sarah, for sure Sarah would want Priscilla permanently diapered.  This would leave Rita the only one still in her big girl panties.  But for how long?  Great chapter!

[Babypants]

21 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

So, Priscilla is going to be diapered for the drinking contest, but may find herself still diapered in the morning.  And locked up.  If Bernice were to pass the keys to Sarah, for sure Sarah would want Priscilla permanently diapered.  This would leave Rita the only one still in her big girl panties.  But for how long?

Hmm.  This had not occurred to me, but you and Guilend have a way of viewing the story that I missed.  Now, I shall have to think about how Ian responds when he gets back to the sorority house, and Rita offers him another round of Tequila.  Hmm.

[Babypants]

POST MORTEM

Sarah was seething, although she was hiding it well. At lunch time, the hospital cafeteria was generally busy, but on this, the last Thursday in November, it was a madhouse. Vickie's decision to pin the photograph of Ian's wife and baby girl to the bulletin board, and to frame it with hand written cards referencing murder and massacre, had triggered an emotional firestorm among the assembled doctors and nurses, hitting those who had served in the military especially hard.

How will poor Bian react when she learns about this? And did we really need Reiko to dive off the deep end on one of her samurai rants?

The image of Reiko Matsumura leaping to her feet and screaming “samurai” when Ian suddenly appeared on a live news feed from the Zeta Alpha Pi sorority house was seared into her consciousness, along with the image of her fiance turning thumbs down to a reporter's suggestion that he was disabled and entitled to a pension.

No, Ian won't play that game although his car is buried under a snowbank because he can't afford a new alternator. A hero doth have his pride.

Doctors had cheered when he sarcastically noted that he packed Immodium AD when venturing abroad, not a Walther PPK or one of Q's exploding alarm clocks. And the whole hospital had stomped its collective feet and roared its collective approval when he proudly proclaimed that he was en route to a drinking contest against a quartet of off duty cops, with Amos Waring tagging along, cast as his very own Sancho Panza.

And then the piece de resistance: Vickie jumping up to announce to the world that she would also be on the team that Ian was leading into ritual combat, a seedy Nordeast bar now suddenly transformed into a gladiatorial arena pitting the hospital against the cops.

And the staff loved it. Men and women, doctors and nurses … an uproar climbing the scale to full on pandemonium, the hospital against the world.

And no doubt that obnoxious Emmett Bailey will tag along to broadcast live, treating us to a blow by blow description as our mighty athletes finally consume one alcoholic beverage too many, and rendered unconscious, slowly sink to the floor …

Whose diaper will be the first to fail? Will Amos even condescend to wearing a diaper? So many questions …

… and now, a word from our sponsers! But stay tuned, sports fans, 'cause we'll be right back!

Sarah glanced at Rita, but her expression was inscrutable, offering neither encouragement nor rebuke.

Did I miss the staff meeting where it was determined that Ian isn't an alcoholic after all? Did the memo consigning his bottle fed breast milk to the trash heap never cross my desk? Is there an escape clause in our D/s agreement that I overlooked? Something that allows him to stay out all night, sleep wherever he wants and with whomever he wants?

Seething, Sarah decided that the time had come for the two of them to have it out, so when his heart to heart with Rita was finished, she would summon him to her office to find out what the Hell was going on, and to lay down the law. She would tell him bluntly that she no longer trusted him, and she wanted his goodies safely and securely locked away inside a chastity cage. There would be no discussion, none whatsoever. It was time for him to honor an agreement that he had entered into of his own free will.

. . . .

Exiting the elevator, Ian, Priscilla and Chief Mischof were immediately assaulted with loud but off-key chanting:

HEY, HEY … HO, HO … BABY KILLER'S GOT TO GO …

HEY, HEY … HO, HO … BABY KILLER'S GOT TO GO …

“Not terribly original,” Ian observed.

“Definitely out of date,” the Chief agreed.

“Disappointing turnout,” Priscilla added as she caught sight of the demonstrators.

Rounding the corner, Ian quickly surveyed the corridor. The protesters were occupying the space between the two doors to his classroom. They obviously thought that they controlled both entrances, but there were no cameras covering the protest, no third party to protect them. They were relying on the forbearance of the handful of campus police officers to their front and rear. They were a dozen strong, and from his point of view, what they occupied was the killing ground. With more than two dozen strikes at his disposal, not counting the damage that he could do with his forehead and elbows, his knees and feet, in such crowded quarters it would take him less than forty seconds to dispose of them all.

Taking the lead, he strolled up to the protesters, some of whom were holding up hand made signs with hastily scrawled slogans. He had seen it all before, and was neither impressed nor intimidated. He waited patiently for the bell to ring, and then spoke for the first time.

“Excuse me.” Ian picked out someone in the front of the pack more or less at random. “I'm Professor Grady, and I need to get through; please move aside.”

“The baby killer speaks!”

The young man, who sported long, dirty hair and an equally unkempt beard to complement the holes in his jeans and the grime on his sweatshirt, was looking at a girl to his left. She had a serious case of acne, and her hair was so stringy that he thought it would be great fun to tie it up in knots.

“I have killed a lot of people,” Ian nodded, “in fact, well over two thousand. But they were all about your age or a bit older … no babies in the lot. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You work for the CIA,” the girl hissed; “you're a fascist tool.”

“Well, I did vote for Nixon; that's true enough.”

Ian smiled at her pleasantly. He would use a heart punch to kill the boy, and a carotid strike to put the girl out of her misery. Four seconds, tops.

“And I do have a license to kill, in the sense that I can kill you in the presence of witnesses and still get away with it. It only takes one phone call to summon a disposal team to collect your corpse and toss it into a nearby incinerator, while a second group systematically erases all evidence of your existence from the relevant data bases. Typically, it takes about forty-five minutes. Afterwards, if your parents stubbornly insist that they had a son or daughter who's gone missing, they'll be institutionalized in a facility for the criminally insane. We generally use one in Colorado that gets mighty cold in the dead of winter.”

Ian continued to smile pleasantly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

The girl shivered, and it was not because she was cold.

“In the presence of all these pigs,” the boy bravely hooted. “I don't think so.”

“We have orders from on high,” the Chief fibbed: “observe, but do not interfere. We just keep the curious away until the disposal team takes over. Cuts down on the paperwork big time.”

Walt's tone was friendly, but transparently insincere. He was staring hard at Ian's right hand, which was out of the protester's line of sight.

“You'll be dead before you hit the floor,” he added without looking up. “Should take about six seconds. Alternatively, you can take your demonstration outside … camp out on the Quad for all we care. Just don't disrupt classes or harass faculty in their offices. We no longer tolerate that sort of thing.”

“Chaz, the Quad will give us a lot more room.” The girl was tugging on his sleeve. “And, we'll get press coverage. It will work in our favor.”

“Yeah,” the scrawny kid agreed; “if we play our cards right, the front page. All right, everybody,” he said as he whirled around, “we're done here. Let's head for the Quad, and make some noise!”

Ian was less than two minutes late for his lecture on communal bathing in a Japanese ryokan or onsen. There were a few places in Kyoto that he was keen for his students to try.

. . . .

Waiting until the ruckus died down, Sarah nudged Vickie to get her attention, then nodded at an empty table in a distant corner of the room. Picking up her tray with her lunch still only half eaten, she walked off without saying a word to anybody, leaving Vickie awkwardly to follow in her wake.

For her part, Rita delayed only long enough to whisper instructions to Marge, who began intently watching the bulletin board. The photo and the captions that Vickie had posted were still getting a lot of attention, and Marge, Becky, Candy and Reiko had to be prepared to intervene if something went seriously wrong.

“How's your diaper holding up,” Sarah asked when Vickie sat down opposite her.

“A bit wet, but not messy. These new diapers actually seem to be pretty good.”

Vickie was referring to the supplies that Sarah had purchased for her at the maternity shop the previous afternoon.

“Good,” Sarah spat out as Rita sat down with her own half eaten lunch. “And how's your diaper rash?”

“Itchy,” Vickie admitted. “And I still hurt from my spankie.”

“Good,” Sarah repeated; “and if you don't have a good explanation for disobeying all my rules with this absurd drinking contest, your next spanking will make the last one seem like a walk in the park. Now, what's going on?”

“Ian and I both thought that Priscilla and Amos would make a cute couple, so we put our heads together and came up with the drinking contest. Since Amos has made it abundantly clear that he wants to go out drinking with Ian, it really didn't take much imagination on our part. What we missed, of course, is that Priscilla was keen to come along because she's madly in love, but not with Amos!”

“Ah, the best laid plans,” Rita giggled. There was something about Vickie and Ian playing matchmaker for Amos that was infinitely amusing.

“And you couldn't shut this cockamamie scheme down when you discovered the truth because that would hurt Amos' feelings.”

“And Priscilla wants us to keep going,” Vickie laughed, “because her father thinks that Ian is bad news; he wants Secret Agent Man to get out of his little girl's life, and never mind the fact that his little girl is an experienced police officer who's fallen head over heels in love. So, the current plan is for Ian and Herb to do a little male bonding over tequila shots. If they can stay upright and somehow stagger out of the bar arm in arm, Pris reckons that all will be forgiven.”

“And did any of you ever pause … ever ask whether you should pitch any of this by me? Vickie, what in Hell is the matter with you? And you, Rita! The three of us agree that Ian is an alcoholic, specifically a binge drinker, and yet both of you seem to think that encouraging him to get tanked in a drinking contest is all fine and dandy! God!”

“That's funny, Sarah,” Rita said as she raised both arms high overhead, the gesture signaling her disgust at how the conversation was proceeding. “Yes, Ian is an alcoholic; we all know it. BUT HE DENIES IT. And we can't treat him as long as he is in denial-- you know that perfectly well.”

Dropping her arms, Rita leaned forward, invading Sarah's personal space.

“Damn it! I want that man to give me a baby! Do you think that I want alcohol coursing through his system when I get pregnant … his, or mine? Don't be ridiculous! I want him to sober up, which means that I want him to admit that he's an alcoholic! So, I've given him an ultimatum: after they win this ridiculous frat boy drinking contest, the three of them are going to end up back at the sorority, which is where I'll be waiting for them. Bernice and I are then going to conduct a trial by fire. They'll be more tequila waiting … a chance for them to toast their triumph one more time. Only, I'll ask Ian to prove that he's not an alcoholic by turning it down. If he does, I'll unlock all three diaper covers, retire gracefully, and leave them to spend the rest of the night making love, in any manner they see fit. But if he takes that drink, they stay locked up, and you will then have my full support in getting him into that chastity cage of yours. I do not want him getting anybody pregnant until we get the alcohol out of his system. I'm fine with the breast milk diet, Sarah ...”

“And so is Priscilla,” Vickie hastily interjected. “But give him a half dozen condoms on your way out the door, and plead with him to use them.”

“A half dozen? Isn't that overkill?”

“Yep, but here's a tip from a pro: always give a man twice as many condoms as he could possibly use. It inflates his ego, and makes him feel like King Kong atop the Empire State Building.”

All three women burst out laughing, each of them pondering the fragility of the male ego, and the hard work that a woman had to invest in turning her guy into a competent lover.

“But we have to get real, here,” Rita continued when the laughter died down. “Unless you plan to keep him locked in a crib forever, a 24/7 baby, you have to make allowance for the fact that he's an adult, with a fully functioning brain. He needs adult stimulation, both intellectually and physically, or he'll disintegrate right before your eyes. So, take away the booze, but in return reward him with his much beloved steaks and baked potatoes. Reward him, Sarah … don't just rely on punishing him. This is where you're getting it all wrong.”

“Carrots and sticks,” Vickie murmured; “carrots and sticks. And remember, I'm going to be your baby forever!”

Vickie's eyes were bright with excitement. “I'm the one who belongs in a crib,” she crowed. “Me! Not Ian!”

. . . .

“We must be living in an alternate universe,” Priscilla observed; “I'm thinking Lovecraft.”

“At the Mountains of Madness,” Ian asked.

They were walking back to his office after his Japanese lecture had come to an uneventful end. A campus police officer was in the lead, and a second bringing up the rear. Walt Mischof was taking no chances.

“Were you serious … I mean, about killing them all and getting away with it?”

“Yes,” Ian saw no need to elaborate.

“Close quarters combat,” Priscilla mused; “would they have posed much of a challenge?”

“No,” he shrugged. “Penned up in that hallway the way they were? Less than a minute. You'll learn the tricks of the trade at Quantico.”

“And yet, in a few minutes I'll be changing your diaper, then cradling you in my arms to nurse on bottles of breast milk. I love babying you, Ian, and you are so docile. It feels so real, and yet ...”

“And yet, I'm capable of killing a dozen people in less than sixty seconds?”

“Exactly. You make me feel so whole-- a lover and a baby, all rolled into one. And yet you are capable of killing so casually. It takes some getting used to.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“No. I saw you tense, and I knew that you were getting ready to strike. The Chief knew it, too … I could hear it in his voice. But do you know what I felt? Relief!”

Ian said nothing, simply waited for her to continue.

“I kept thinking that, if anyone ever came for our children, you would make a mess of their day. You wouldn't turn into a weeping Willie, begging the bad guys not to hurt us. No, you wouldn't hesitate for a second. You'd go on a killing spree, then pick up the phone and call a disposal team to come take out the garbage. And when it was all over, one of us would have to change your dirty diaper. At the Mountains of Madness indeed.”

“And here we are,” Ian mused as the four of them exited the elevator and went round the corner to his office. “And not a headhunter in sight.”

The corridor was awash in coeds, some of whom he recognized from office visits over the last couple of days. The sororities were still shielding him, but now there were a fair number of clean-cut young men awaiting him as well.

“Excuse me, Professor,” a tall, blonde young man said with a radiant smile. “We're fraternity brothers, and ROTC. If you can spare the time, we'd all like to hear more about how to get the max out of an R&R.”

“Happy to oblige,” Ian grinned. “Just give me a few minutes to scarf down some lunch, and we'll start office hours early.”

. . . .

“So, the bottom line: now that we've heard the worst of it, are we still going ahead with our plan, modified only to include Priscilla?”

Sarah already knew the answer, but she wanted both Rita and Vickie to say it out loud.

“Vickie?”

“Absolutely. And I can speak for Priscilla as well. If you bail, Sarah, she will marry Ian.”

Rita and Sarah exchanged puzzled looks.

“And how did you arrive at that decision … and does Ian know?”

“Not yet. But it's logical. Children need grandparents, and neither my parents nor Rita's are up to the task. But Pris says that her parents are getting impatient … like, 'would you please get on with it because we're not getting any younger' … that kind of impatience.”

“Like my grandmother,” Sarah smiled; “she's made her wishes in this department altogether too clear.”

“And Rita, from what you said earlier, it's obvious that you haven't changed your mind.”

Rita nodded. “I don't mind admitting that I've had doubts, because there was a part of me that thought none of this makes any sense. So, why was I doing this? Why? And then I watched him with Janis … all that love and caring … the gentleness. And I thought about all the pain that washes across his features when he thinks about his daughter … how much he loves her. And suddenly, I understood. I've spent my whole adult life searching for Ian, and I never even knew that I was looking. I want to have children, but not with a man who's so obsessed with his career that his children are just an afterthought. Ian's greatest strength is his sense of balance … having his priorities in the right order. He doesn't care about money; he cares about people. We've all seen it … we all recognize it, but I never credited what I was seeing until he got down on his knees to comfort Janis. And then it clicked into place. This is the man I want to father my children, because he will always be there for them.”

“What about you, Sarah,” Rita asked in turn. “Are you still in, or are you bailing?”

“Truthfully? “Ian and I have a broad outline, but we're still filling in the details. We're a work in progress, and I'm willing to put a great deal of effort into making our relationship succeed. Frankly, what worries me more at the moment is the two of you. If today was a trial run for our household, the outcome was disastrous. Both of you had some idea of what was coming in that conference room, yet you left me to lead with my chin. Why? And this drinking contest. That's the sort of thing that you're supposed to bring to me. You lay out the facts and give me your recommendation … we discuss the pros and cons, and then I make the call. Whether you agree or disagree in private, we present a united front to Ian when it's his well-being that we're considering.”

“You're right, Sarah,” Rita apologized; “we didn't think it through, which is just another way of saying that our new relationship is also a work in progress because it's so different from our long-standing friendship. But let me repeat: it's obvious to the rest of us that you and Ian have hit a rough patch because you are trying to micromanage the relationship instead of managing it. He's all but begging you to be the decision-maker, but that doesn't mean that you have to decide whether he's eating egg salad or tuna salad for lunch. You need to step back, and concentrate on the essentials. By all means, treat him like a baby … Ian and Vickie both, because at the therapeutic level it's to their benefit. But don't make the mistake of thinking of two functioning adults as babies. They're not, and they never will be-- they both have jobs, and they both do them well.”

“It's hard,” Sarah countered with a resigned sigh. “He asks me to make decisions, and when I do, he debates whether or not to follow my lead. But when I try and engage him … make it a team decision? He retreats into a shell. He's holding so much back ...”

“Pris and I were just talking about this,” Vickie observed. “We want him to speak up, but he's secretive by nature, and he has trust issues.”

“Keep trying,” Sarah urged. “Go after the little things: does he like his peanut butter creamy or chunky?”

“It's a good strategy,” Rita concurred. “Get him in the habit of talking. Make him feel safe … make him feel that he can talk to any of us about anything that concerns him.”

“So, we're in agreement, then. We all know the cost, but we're all going to pay it. We build a home for the five of us, for our children, for Ian's daughter, for the other survivors. We accept the limitations on our freedom of movement that go with living in a high risk environment.”

Sarah spread her arms across the table, palms up. Rita and Vickie both reached out to renew the friendship and community that Sarah was offering. They had absorbed a heavy blow, but long years of deep friendship sustained them, and with it their hopes for the future.

[Guilend]

I still think for the new relationship between Vickie, Rita and Sarah, Vickie and Rita should be disciplined for not telling Sarah. Especially since they've both agreed that Sarah was in charge of the household and still didn't go to her about this drinking party.

[mushy bottom]

I agree with Guilend.  Sarah is herding cats.  She is too controlling, but she does her eye on the ball.  She's the mature one in this family.

[kerry]

I still don't care for Sarah at all. She won't be happy unless all decisions come through her, and I doubt very much if she is even capable of treating Ian as anything but a baby. Basically, she's a bitch, and she is not worth a farthing compared with the rest of them.

[Babypants]

On 7/14/2024 at 5:22 PM, mushy bottom said:

Sarah is herding cats.  She is too controlling, but she does her eye on the ball.  She's the mature one in this family.

 

On 7/15/2024 at 2:33 PM, kerry said:

Basically, she's a bitch, and she is not worth a farthing compared with the rest of them.

Looking for reader input here.  Sarah gets off work at seven; should she track down the bar and show up for the contest?  Or should she head home as planned, to start packing up Ian's apartment?

On Friday night, when she hopes to have Ian all to herself, what should she do?  Baby him at home, or take him out on a date for a nice dinner somewhere?  

[mushy bottom]

Go to the bar, but sub for Vickie.  Drunk and disorderly.  Jail, or back to the sorority, where she gets put to bed in a locking diaper.  Oh, and her car gets towed.

[Babypants]

ANNOUNCEMENT: a fifth bundle of chapters, with comments removed, has been posted on the STORIES site.  This takes us up through scene 17.  There are two more bundles in the hopper, waiting for Mike to upload them at his leisure.

[Guilend]

1 minute ago, Babypants said:

ANNOUNCEMENT: a fifth bundle of chapters, with comments removed, has been posted on the STORIES site.  This takes us up through scene 17.  There are two more bundles in the hopper, waiting for Mike to upload them at his leisure.

Stories site?

2 minutes ago, Babypants said:

ANNOUNCEMENT: a fifth bundle of chapters, with comments removed, has been posted on the STORIES site.  This takes us up through scene 17.  There are two more bundles in the hopper, waiting for Mike to upload them at his leisure.

Nevermind, I found it

[Babypants]

2 minutes ago, Guilend said:

Stories site?

You access the STORIES  portion of DD via the home page.  Lots of good stuff over there, for those who have not explored it!

[Babypants]

"Babypants, I'll take fiction for $750."

"If H.P. Lovecraft has dominated the horror genre for the better part of a century, he also generously admitted that he stood on the shoulders of others.   One of the most important is this little known British author, who published a novel in 1908 that completely reshaped our understanding of horror as a genre.  Who is this author, and what is the title of this path breaking work?"