AN HOMAGE TO VINCENT VEGA, SEASON TWO SCENE 54 (IN LOCO PARENTIS)

[CCApril]

Thanks for sharing!  Your were pretty brave, thankfully the store wasn't filled with hot nurses! That really would have cranked up the embarrassment factor.

[Babypants]

20 hours ago, CCApril said:

Thanks for sharing!  Your were pretty brave, thankfully the store wasn't filled with hot nurses! That really would have cranked up the embarrassment factor.

It's possible that I've forgotten, but I don't recall being embarrassed that day.  Before disposables, you couldn't hide diapers drying on the line from the neighborhood bullies, and of course a diaper service truck stopping by weekly was an even bigger tell.  Being shot in the 4th grade, raped in the 5th, and knifed in the 6th toughened me up.  I mashed a kid's jaw in the 6th, and used a knife to fight off another bully in the 7th.  After that, I had no problems with the guys, and proved reasonably popular with girls outside the cheer leading set, especially after I got my learner's permit at 15 1/2.  Because I skipped 4B and 5A, the girls in my class were all older than me.  In sum, they had licenses but no cars, and I had two cars but no license.  Hallelujah, and to hell with the diapers!    

[CCApril]

Whoa.. I actually had to walk away from your post before typing a response.

I didn't know whether to weep over your past or cheer with your final response. That's an awful lot for one person to handle in multiple lifetimes let alone before 8th grade! At least you got the girls! 

My guess the store lady had already seen that and did that and felt no embarrassment helping you, no reaction on her part  probably made all the difference.

[Babypants]

10 hours ago, CCApril said:

My guess the store lady had already seen that and did that and felt no embarrassment helping you, no reaction on her part  probably made all the difference.

Looking back on it, this is my sense of what happened as well.  She asked me what I was shopping for, and when I said "diapers," her next question was whether they were for me or a younger brother or sister.  With that sorted out, she led me to the adult diapers while asking whether I needed them for bed wetting, or for daytime use as well.  She did take my measurements in the storeroom, but she was very professional.  I was glad that she was taking the time to get the best product for me, both in terms of size and thickness.

Looking back on it, I now regard it as telling that she never asked me about how I got my diapers changed in school.  This certainly suggests that this was indeed all old hat to her.  By the way, I saw the school nurse during nutrition break, and just before the end of lunch break.  I also reported to my gym teacher (my one special ed type class), who occasionally had to change me as well.  Quite a few kids had other problems that brought them to the school nurse's office.  She was a busy lady!  

[littlebopeeper]

Another chapter that really is "not for the faint of heart."   I'm guessing that somebody betrayed Ian, and that guy is going to have a very bad day when he finally ties all the pieces together.  And Vickie?  Wow!  She's going all out baby.  Is it all an act, or is this for real?  Can't wait for the next chapter.  

[Babypants]

Quickie historical quiz

The breast pump that Rita, Sarah and Vickie are buying is the Egnell pump, invented in 1942 by the Swedish engineer Einar Egnell.  In 1979, the first breast pump designed by a woman was still in the future.  In what year did it come out?

A.  1984

B.  1988

C.  1992

D.  1996

E.  2000

[Guilend]

I'm going with C. I tried googling it, but after a few minutes of reading through different sites about the history of breast pumps, the closest I found to answer this was in 1993 when a lady named Amanda added the first micro processor to the breast pump. She also added a backflow protectors the following year.

[littlebopeeper]

I'm going with B.  A patent was granted to an Elena Grant of Beaverton, Oregon on 09/20/1988.  If you've never seen a patent laid out, take a look:  https://patents.google.com/patent/US4772262A/en

[CCApril]

I vote none of the above! What does a woman know about breast pumping?

Now if I could only get my tongue out of my cheek.

 

April

 

[Babypants]

9 hours ago, CCApril said:

I vote none of the above! What does a woman know about breast pumping?

Now if I could only get my tongue out of my cheek.

The Smithsonian Magazine has a wonderful piece on the history of breast pumping.  We didn't have access to a pump when my wife was breast feeding, so I had to step up and take one for the cause when my son, at 7 months, suddenly decided that breast milk sucked (pardon the pun).  The stuff tastes incredibly foul.

[CCApril]

1 hour ago, Babypants said:

The stuff tastes incredibly foul.

We don't need any pesky reality interfering with our lovely breast feeding fantasies.  We would lose half the stories  here.

[Guilend]

3 hours ago, Babypants said:

The stuff tastes incredibly foul.

 

1 hour ago, CCApril said:

We don't need any pesky reality interfering with our lovely breast feeding fantasies.  We would lose half the stories  here.

When my ex wife was lactating after our son was born, I tried her breastmilk from the source. I liked it. Sadly she felt it was weird so she only let me try it a couple of times. Then again, the smell she gave off when she was in the mood was so amazing and oddly strong considering I don't smell things as well as normal people. It would get me going from across the room. After around 12 years since the divorce, I've yet to be with a woman like that. Not that I've actually been with many, just 3 since her. One was a one night stand, the other was a three way with a buddy of mine and his girlfriend and the third I was in a 2 year relationship with. But I'd give anything, even my soul, to be with a woman like that again. It felt magical. Just wish I realized that at the time.

[Babypants]

7 hours ago, Guilend said:

I liked it.

I remember that smell.  It permeated my wife's clothes, and she called it her revenge for the urine/poopy smell that seemed forever trapped in my skin.  The danger with breast milk is that the lactose content is fully 20% higher than cow's milk, so some people who can tolerate the latter cannot process the former.  I'm lactose intolerant, but different levels hit me in different ways.  Cow's milk and ice cream trigger projectile vomiting, but breast milk runs right through me in the form of the runny poop that I've condemned Ian to experience.  Here the danger is dehydration.  I used to tolerate yogurt, but now it doubles me over with severe abdominal pain.  Happily, I love feta, so cheese is not a problem.

Here's an interesting little tidbit.  I have slept with many Asian women over the decades, and have been told more than once that all western men exude a body odor that is heavy on dairy.  They do not find it pleasant.   

[Guilend]

51 minutes ago, Babypants said:

I remember that smell.  It permeated my wife's clothes, and she called it her revenge for the urine/poopy smell that seemed forever trapped in my skin.  The danger with breast milk is that the lactose content is fully 20% higher than cow's milk, so some people who can tolerate the latter cannot process the former.  I'm lactose intolerant, but different levels hit me in different ways.  Cow's milk and ice cream trigger projectile vomiting, but breast milk runs right through me in the form of the runny poop that I've condemned Ian to experience.  Here the danger is dehydration.  I used to tolerate yogurt, but now it doubles me over with severe abdominal pain.  Happily, I love feta, so cheese is not a problem.

Here's an interesting little tidbit.  I have slept with many Asian women over the decades, and have been told more than once that all western men exude a body odor that is heavy on dairy.  They do not find it pleasant.   

Maybe because I can't smell very well, I just don't smell it or I just don't remember.  I spent a summer in Arizona working as a ramp agent at an airport. I worked nights, helping park the planes, get the passages and luggage off and clean the inside of the plane and empty the septic tank and refill it with what we call blue juice, which is water and some blue pods that turns the water blue. I'm sure they explained what it all was, but I don't remember it. The job no one wanted was the septic tank because how bad it smelled, even though it was the easiest job. Good thing for, I couldn't smell it. Sometimes I'd get a bad oder, but it wasn't intolerable. So I volunteered every day. My nickname ended up becoming The Lav Guy/Man. One day I had worked 4 hours before my normal shift and I was put down to do the septic tank. When my normal shift started, I was put down to do it again. An hour or two in my supervisor apparently found out I had done that on the previous shift and came and asked why I didn't tell him, he'd have asked for volunteers. I said, why? He wouldn't get any and I'd still end up volunteering and doing it. Besides, for me it was easy without the any drawbacks lol.

[Babypants]

15 hours ago, CCApril said:

We don't need any pesky reality interfering with our lovely breast feeding fantasies.  We would lose half the stories  here

How about a compromise.  In the Diaper Dimension or the universe of Amazons, instead of breast milk, is it too much to ask for a story in which the blonds are pumping out champagne, the phony blonds beer, the brunettes Scotch, and the redheads Irish whiskey?   

[CCApril]

2 hours ago, Babypants said:

In the Diaper Dimension or the universe of Amazons, instead of breast milk, is it too much to ask for a story in which the blonds are pumping out champagne, the phony blonds beer, the brunettes Scotch, and the redheads Irish whiskey?

The diaper dimension contains all diaper related stories. So I'm sure that place exists. The don't even snatch littles. They just put up some St. Pauli's girls posters and advertise BOOB's AND BEER FOREVER 1-800-BOOBS4U.  (Please read fine print on other side of poster.) Both sides are the same of course.

[Babypants]

24 HOURS FROM TULSA

Oh, I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa

Ah, only one day away from your arms

I hate to do this to you but I love somebody new, what can I do?

Gene Pitney (1963), Dusty Springfield (1964)

. . . .

Ian leaned back, closed his eyes, and allowed his taste buds to take control of his senses. A pastrami sandwich with all the trimmings was a treat at the best of times, but coming on top of a steady diet of breast milk, it was nirvana.

“Real food,” he sighed contentedly, “real food!”

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Priscilla was staring at him strangely. “What?”

“The look on your face. Ian, your resilience ...”

Priscilla shook her head, trying to come to terms with it.

“A half hour ago, you were in so much pain that I was fighting to hold back the tears, and there were a couple of times when it took everything I had not to throw up in your trash can. And now?” She continued to shake her head. “Now, here we are, eating a late lunch in my favorite deli, acting as if nothing terrible had ever happened to either one of us. I'm sitting here trying to process the strangest day in my whole life, and I'm not having much luck.”

After changing Ian's diaper, she had led him out to her cruiser and driven directly to the deli, parking in the slot reserved for her mother at the rear of the building. Sitting at the small table, sandwiches, chips and beverages spread out in front of them, the only thing that seemed out of place was Priscilla's uniform. In every other respect, they appeared to be a young couple who had taken advantage of a late winter afternoon lull to duck in out of the cold and enjoy each other's company.

“I'm afraid it's about to get stranger still,” Ian grimaced. He took a sip of his coffee, and was surprised to see that his hand wasn't shaking.

“How so?” Priscilla leaned across the table, drawing closer to him. The intimacy of the gesture warmed her. Ian's smile, she now realized, had always been tinged with sorrow, with regret, the sometimes visible face of a broken heart. She longed to take him in her arms, to hold him close, and somehow to make all the pain go away.

“I made love to you without thinking about the consequences. And they're real. Seriously, Priscilla, what I laid out for you wasn't theoretical; it's going to happen.”

“No regrets, Ian … for either of us. One of the things I'm trying to process is my feelings for you. I'm nor ashamed of them, and I'm not going to apologize-- to Sarah, or anyone else.”

“Good, because I don't want you to. And if anyone asks you straight out, just say da.”

Priscilla's laugh was heartfelt. “I'm glad you feel that way because I don't think either one of us could deny it with a straight face!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ian grinned. “So, here's what I'm thinking.” He leaned forward, further closing the distance between them. “The security team will be organized into outer and inner perimeters, and when there are women and small children involved, the standard procedure is to have an all-female team on the inside, led by someone local with police experience. I'm pretty sure that Donnie would agree to make you the principal agent, but it would mean living on site … after completing the standard training course at Quantico, with a bit of supplemental training tossed in to fit the specific situation. The basic course is thirty-three days, and the supplemental would probably occur on site. Think you can live without me for a month?”

“How on site is on site?” The twinkle in Priscilla's eyes told Ian that she was already sold, if only for the fringe benefits.

“In the bedroom next to the target, which initially will be Sarah. By the way, I expect to be comfortably situated in one of the cribs that I occupied in the psych ward. The odds are good that a bedroom will be converted into a nursery, with me the sole occupant. Could get lonely in there.”

The twinkle in Ian's eyes told Priscilla that Ian was not about to end their relationship.

“And would this nursery of yours have a changing table, where I could look after you properly?” The twinkle in Priscilla's eyes had turned positively devilish.

“Count on it … and perhaps one of those miniature refrigerators to house my ba bas.” His cock was straining to get hard inside its diapered prison.

“Well, free room and board … and a course at Quantico would look awfully good on my resume ...”

“But can I survive without you for a whole month? You've already made it clear that nobody else on the force would be willing to change my shitty diaper.”

Ian was rather glad that the deli was all but deserted this late in the afternoon.

“Suzie Marshall might be willing ...”

“Can't see Sarah giving her the key. Besides, she probably isn't pistol trained. City girls just don't know their guns.”

“Well, I could ask Mom; she doesn't have much to do in December, knows a good pistol when she sees one, and has definitely changed the odd diaper.”

“Might make your dad jealous ...” Ian snapped his fingers. “How about one of those cute coeds camping out at the office? Maybe for extra credit.”

“Hmm … nope … too late in the term. Sorry.”

“Know any nannies packing heat?”

“Not really … wait … Harriet's a possibility. She definitely wants to get in your pants, and her uncle is a notorious gangster. She may know what to do with a loaded gun.”

“In my current state, make it a double action.”

“Cocked and loaded, are you? Ready to fire?”

“Not sure about the pin … might need some tender, loving care.”

Just needs a little oil … a bit of pampering.”

“Pampering is always good ...”

Priscilla reached out to clasp the back of Ian's neck, and pulled him forward. “Such a baby,” she murmured, as she kissed him full on the lips, holding him tightly in her grasp. “But don't worry. A month at Quantico will go by fast, and then Mommy will always be here to change your shitty diaper. Da?”

“Da.”

. . . .

“One more stop and we can call it a day,” Sarah announced. She turned around in her seat, and double checked to make sure that Vickie's seat belt was properly fastened.

“Where to?” Rita was making her way slowly down the aisle. The accident rate in snow bound mall parking lots was staggering.

“Mom says that we need to visit a shop in the northern suburbs. They apparently have a nice array of spanking implements that will encourage our babies to be more obedient.”

“Works for me,” Rita shrugged as she glanced in the rear view mirror to see how Vickie was reacting. She wasn't particularly surprised to see that their colleague was staring aimlessly out the window, and paying no attention whatsoever to the frank discussion of corporal punishment underway in the front seat. When it came to paddling the rear end, Rita suspected that there was precious little to be left to Vickie's imagination.

“Did you think that she was a bit too cruel,” Rita continued.

“Who?” Sarah wasn't sure who they were talking about.

“The lady running the store. It's one thing to leave that boy in the storeroom in a diaper and baby pants, sucking on a pacifier, while she rang up our purchase. But taking his trousers with her, and calling his mother to come pick him up? I don't know about that.”

“Well, if the mother sent him to the store in the first place, obviously there's no harm done. But if he lied about that … if he's acting out some kind of baby fetish behind her back, it's better for her to find out now rather than later. Rita, you of all people know that reality rarely measures up to fantasy, especially adolescent fantasy. If she indulges him … starts sending him to school in diapers and treating him like a baby at home, he might decide that his fantasy isn't all that he thought it would be, and he'll move on. But if this is what he really wants, either she takes her new baby home and helps him come to terms with his infantile desires, or they end up in counseling. Either way, Tommy comes out ahead.”

“I suppose so,” Rita reluctantly conceded, “but I hope that his diaper holds up. When his mother walks through the door, that poor kid is going to pee up a storm!”

“They'll probably have to pry his pacifier loose with a crowbar,” Sarah laughed. “And I can't wait to slip Ian's pacifier into his mouth when we get home. It will get a real workout when I'm spanking his baby butt! How about you, baby girl?”

Sarah twisted around in her seat, and licked her lips as she thought about what she had in store for Vickie. “You're so naughty that I'm not even going to bother spanking you. Nope. I'm going straight to the paddle, or perhaps I'll graduate to the cane that I'm going to buy at our next stop. Mom says that it might be the only thing that will get your attention. We'll see, baby girl; we'll see. But don't worry! You'll have your binkie to calm your tears!”

. . . .

Priscilla peeked at her watch, then stood up. “Be right back,” she said; “I'm going to call Mom, and see how things are going on her end.”

Waving at the guys behind the counter, Priscilla opened a door marked MANAGER, and disappeared inside, leaving Ian to salivate over the next bite of his pastrami sandwich. While he ate, he was also thinking about his next talk with Donnie Freeman. Ian well understood that it was not in the Agency's best interest to find his daughter, for the simple reason that he would cease working for Langley the moment Linh arrived on his doorstep. When he had refused the latest Polish mission, he had in effect cast a formal vote of no confidence in a community that he had distrusted since adolescence. He was pinning his hopes on the Russians, but he wasn't quite ready to write the DC crowd off completely. Rita, Vickie and Sarah gave him three cards to play in this convoluted game, and Priscilla's admission that they were lovers had just added a fourth. As long as the Agency could keep control, Donnie would have been perfectly happy to learn that he was sleeping with every woman who crossed his path. Sex was merely a means, children the end.

Ian concluded that pitching Priscilla to the Agency would be like tossing bloody meat into shark infested waters. The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

. . . .

“Fantasy Island?” Rita did a double take as she pulled into the lot. It was obviously a shop selling “marital aids,” but with a hardware store on one side and an Asian supermarket on the other, it looked distinctly out of place.

“Yep. Mom says that this is the place to shop in the Twin Cities when you're looking for adult toys. Baby girl, have you been here?”

Sarah would have bet a healthy sum that Vickie had an account here. After all, her wands had to come from someplace, and if her mom was right, this was the most likely source.

“Uh huh,” Vickie muttered. She left it at that.

“Well,” Sarah smiled brightly, “let's get you unbuckled, and then you and Auntie Rita can come inside with me, and we'll see what they have to offer!”

Vickie waited for Sarah to unfasten her seat belt, and then slid out of the car. She needed a diaper change, and she knew that the shop had a restroom, but she was hoping to avoid the humiliation of being changed in public. She fervently hoped that she wasn't leaking.

Vickie's heart sank the moment they walked through the door. She had done business with the young lady behind the counter on more than one occasion.

“Victoria! It's good to see you again! And you've brought friends. Welcome!”

“Hi, Jessica. Uh, these are two of my friends from work, Sarah and Rita.” Vickie nodded to left and right. “Sarah's in the market for an upscale paddle and a cane. Last time I checked, you had a really good selection.”

“Right this way,” Jessica beamed. “Tell me how much you want it to hurt, and I guarantee you that we've got what you need. On a scale of one to ten, think two for an over the knee spanking, four for a ping pong paddle, five for a paddle with holes, and eight for a birch cane.”

“Well,” Sarah laughed, “neither spankings nor paddling seems to have got my boyfriend's attention, so I want to move up. I'll need both the paddle with holes, and a cane.”

“Good choices! I'd also like to sell you a whip, which comes in at ten, and I'll toss in a mannequin free of charge. If you haven't used a whip before, you really want to practice before turning it loose on your boyfriend. Whips and chains are not for amateurs, but once you master the whip, it will always be your first choice. Does he need a chastity cage?”

“Do you sell them?” Sarah was getting really excited.

“We have everything from cheap stuff that's good only for a bit of role playing to state of the art, stainless steel devices that can't be defeated, and with locks that can't be picked. Absolute control is guaranteed, or your money back!”

“Fantastic! Show me … show me … show me! The best that you've got!”

Jessica opened a case near the cash register, and brought out a life size replica of the male genitalia, and a small but brightly colored cardboard box. Opening it, she placed a ring and sheath on the counter, with a key that was already attached to an odd shaped lock. Reaching back into the case, she hauled out a small plastic piece whose purpose was anything but obvious.

“Here's how it works,” she explained. “You squeeze the guy's balls inside the ring, and ratchet it closed, just like a handcuff. You want it tight, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation. Then, you slide his penis into this sheath; the best way to go about it is to tie a piece of string behind the head with a slip knot, and ease it into place. Next, slide this plastic cover into place on top of the penis; it will prevent pull out, which is the only thing that can defeat the device. Line up these two holes and these two pins like so, insert the lock, which is housed inside the ring, turn the key, and pull it out. That's all there is to it. Just ice his penis down first; the maximum length the cage will take is one inch. Oh, and for permanent chastity, just fill the lock with solder. Give him a choice between permanent chastity and a whipping, and I guarantee that he will beg you for the whip.”

“Wonderful! I mean, really … wow! Thank you so much for your help; you've really got everything that I need. Now, could you do me a favor? My baby girl probably needs her diaper changed. If I get her diaper bag out of the car, do you have someplace I can change her?”

Jessica looked around, not catching on to what Sarah was talking about. Then she stole a glance at Vickie's bottom, and broke out into a big smile.

“Oh, yes, Sarah, changing your baby's dirty diaper won't be a problem. You can use the storeroom; there's a work bench in there that will nicely serve as a changing table. By the way, I'm Jessica!”

“It's nice to meet you, Jessica … and again, thank you for all your help. Dealing with two naughty babies is really stressing me out, but with your help I'll finally have a fighting chance of bring them to heel.”

“It's my pleasure, and if you ever need a babysitter, just give me a call.” Jessica handed Sarah a card with both her home and work telephone numbers. "And if you ever want to have a weekend free, I'd love to look after both of them. This one is such a cutie!”

Jessica reached out to tickle Vickie's cheek. Sarah reached into her bag, brought out Vickie's pacifier, and slipped it into her mouth. “Baby girl just loves her binkie,” Sarah declared; “she finds it very soothing.”

“Why don't you take her to the storeroom and get her undressed,” Rita suggested. “I'll fetch her diaper bag, and join you in a minute.”

“Good idea,” Sarah crowed. “Come on, baby girl, let's go change your diapee!”

. . . .

When Priscilla returned to the table, she beat Ian to the punch. “Mom's sitting in the school parking lot across the street from your building. She's got a clear view of the entrance to your lot, but she says that the snow is piled so high on one old beater with California plates that she can't see all the way to the end of it. Somebody needs to get out there and clean that rust bucket off!”

“I'll mention it to the owner the next time I run into him,” Ian said in his best deadpan voice.

“If his girlfriend is the outdoors type, maybe he can con her into doing it for him.”

“Might take a bribe.”

“Rumor has it that the guy's just a big baby. He might get by with nursing on Mommy's titties.”

“Be a step up from the bottles of breast milk that are his daily lot. I know for a fact that he's a tit man.”

“The real question is whether he can keep his end up.”

“You would have to ask his girlfriend about that.”

“The last time I saw her, she had this big shit-eating grin on her face. If I had to guess, I'd say that the guy's got the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.”

“I want to make love to you ...”

“We could go to your apartment … no … wait … bad idea. Mom's got your place under surveillance. Really bad idea.”

“Yeah.” Ian let out a deep, regretful sigh, and slipped out of Priscilla's grasp. “We should be prepared to back her play. You're a cop, and I'm a secret agent who needs to get his toy back. Who else is in on this gig?”

“My boss, Chief Mischof … and he's big on dramatic entrances. Trust me … he'll show up with lights flashing, siren blaring … it's quite a show.”

. . . .

“Rita, I have to get back to work; remember, through Tuesday next, I'm covering the first half of Heidi's shift.” Sarah was thinking about the tasks ahead. “So, on Friday, the two of you will have to deal with Ian's apartment without me. Can you manage?”

“We'll manage.”

In her usual thorough way, Rita had already gathered enough boxes to pack up Ian's kitchen, bathroom and closets. She would find out on Thursday whether he had the original boxes for his stereo and TV, or needed replacements. Amos would load whatever she and Vickie left behind Friday night on his truck late Saturday morning, and dump it in her garage to be sorted out later. She would deal with Ian's artwork, far the most valuable of his few possessions, personally.

“And will you help, baby girl, or are you just going to get in the way?”

“We'll get it done,” Vickie shrugged. “Providing that disaster doesn't strike on Saturday night, are we still planning to tackle my apartment on Sunday?”

“Absolutely.” Sarah couldn't wait to see the look on Vickie's face when she discovered that her bed was gone, and realized that she would be sleeping in one of their hospital cribs forevermore. She planned to put the cribs back to back, so that Vickie and Ian could touch and even kiss, but nothing more. With his cock safely locked inside the chastity device, her baby husband would experience a level of frustration that she would alleviate only in exchange for his obedience. She was going to enforce the D/s contract that he had signed-- enforce every word of it.

“Jessica's offer reminds me that we do have to think about babysitters for our little ones,” Sarah noted. She was talking to Rita, and making a point of ignoring Vickie completely. “After all, they'll be times when we want to do grown-up things by ourselves. Do you think that Jessica would make a good babysitter?”

“It depends on her schedule, but if she's free when we need her, I would certainly try her out. I've been worrying about babysitters because I would expect Ian to try and charm them right out of their panties. Once we have him locked in that chastity cage, a lot of my worries are going to disappear.”

“So, you agree with my plan to keep him under lock and key?”

“Absolutely. If we're going to have babies, I don't want him touching himself, and I certainly don't want him having sex with other women. We're going to keep him very busy, so he will need to conserve his energy to satisfy us.”

“Ian is still my patient,” Vickie growled from the back seat, “and I fully intend to complete his treatment successfully. Both of you have a role to play here, or have you forgotten?”

“Not at all,” Rita smoothly countered. “Manny and I will get together sometime on Friday and set dates for the 'diaper your favorite nurse' auction. If the sessions take hold, all three of us will be able to summon Princess Poopy Pants at will. Working together, Vic, the three of us should be able to trigger a breakthrough with less risk than if you try it alone. Once he's stable, we can keep the Princess in reserve to help him through future crises.”

“At least once I'd like to repress the Major and allow the Princess to enjoy life for a while,” Sarah added. “Who knows? We might discover that we like the Princess better, and want to spend more time with her!”

. . . .

“Let's sneak across the road,” Ian suggested. “There's a bank of pay phones off the hospital's main lobby. I'll ring Donnie, and if you want, you can track Amos down in the ER and confirm that everything's ready for tomorrow night.”

“Sounds like a plan; let's do it.”

What Priscilla really wanted to do was find a vacant hospital room. Making love with Ian had left her horny as hell. Rip his clothes off, ditch the canvas chastity belt, pray that his diaper was poop free, and then make mad, passionate love to the first man to excite her since her brief but torrid affair with her eleventh grade biology teacher.

Not for the first time, Priscilla asked herself what the hell was wrong with Sarah. She had somehow latched on to a great guy, and yet she treated him like crap. Did she think that he could be taken for granted because of his diapers? Given that she was sharing him with two of her friends, that seemed unlikely in the extreme. Whatever her motive, Suzie Marshall wanted Ian badly, and Vickie wasn't having it. Their rivalry was common knowledge. Ian had had a brief fling with his department secretary, and neither of them was treating it like some deep, dark secret. The lady running his diaper service was clearly in the market for a husband, and just as clearly believed that Ian would fit the bill quite nicely. Ian was wounded in body and spirit, but he was gentle and loving-- a combination so potent that it amounted to an aphrodisiac. And Sarah hadn't simply spanked him … she had paddled him!

What the hell is wrong with this woman?

In the lobby, Priscilla assured Ian that she could find the ER without difficulty-- in fact, it had been only two weeks since her last visit, when she and another officer had transported a professor who had collapsed in his office from a kidney stone attack. Amos welcomed her with open arms, and assured her that he had already cached the supplies that they would need for the upcoming drinking contest. He was raring to go, and no, he would not agree to man up and wear a diaper. He wanted to give the other team a fighting chance, or at least the illusion of one.

Male pride, Priscilla sighed, stubborn male pride. Still shaking her head, she headed back to the lobby.

. . . .

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

“In the flesh, Donnie. Calling from a pay phone in the hospital where Sarah works. Everybody having fun back there?”

“At your expense, you mean? Sure. Setting aside the worrisome fact that one of our most senior agents can pick up the phone and call Irina Orlov whenever he feels like it, your love life is the talk of the building. If you're taking pills, the Director wants the prescription. Seriously, Street. Four women? Where do you find the time, never mind the energy?”

“No pills, Donnie. Sorry, but it's simply a matter of self-discipline.”

“Yeah, right. Cook up something a bit more convincing, and the Director will cover the cost of your honeymoon out of petty cash. By all means, take all four of the lovely ladies with you to Athens, have a heart to heart with Irina, and then move on to that quaint little hotel you told me about on Santorini. Get Irina to give us a bit of raw meat, and it's a legit expense. Gotta keep the bean counters happy, know what I mean?”

“Helps to have something to offer in trade.”

“How about we loosen the travel restriction for their embassy personnel a bit? Say another fifty miles?”

“I'll make the offer, but it would be nice to have some leeway. Say … oh … a hundred?”

“We can live with that, but we'd have to have something meaningful in return. And I'm not talking about bathtub vodka.”

“About Priscilla … Julia's daughter ...”

“Listening.”

“Not to get too far ahead of the curve, but we may need a security officer in house. She's the logical choice, and she's receptive to the idea of visiting Quantico.”

“Sweet. You sure you can survive without your nanny for a month, plus?”

“Not really. She treats me like royalty. Diaper changes are a real treat.”

“It's hard to tell on the recording, Street. How did she handle the truth?”

“A couple of bad moments, but she hung in there. She gives me hope.”

“You got a plan for the encore?”

“Saturday night. Priscilla is urging me to do a bit of editing, but otherwise to give the same account.”

“Ian, they have to know. There's no getting around this … they have to know.”

“Yeah. And one of these days, I need to apologize to Emily.”

Ian was badly startled when he felt an arm drape across his shoulders. Mushy poop was exploding into his diaper as he looked to his right.

Seeing Priscilla, he grinned with relief, and turned to kiss her lightly on the lips.

Priscilla's arm dropped, to wrap around his waist. It felt so good simply to hold him tight.

“Got to go,” Ian said as his attention shifted back to the telephone. “I'll call you at home on Sunday, and share the highlights.”

. . . .

“Am I the only one who thinks that Sarah could use some professional help?” From the back seat, Vickie was watching her colleague exit the parking garage, holding the box containing one of the breast pumps to her chest. “I mean, really, what's she going to say when someone yells out 'hey Sarah, need help? What's in the box'?”

“Considering that we're all going to add a full cup size to our bras,” Rita replied defensively, “there's not a lot to be gained by keeping this a secret.”

“So, you want us to follow her over hill and dale, all the way to the seventh floor? I can see it now … 'yeah, folks, that's right. We don't have babies. We're not pregnant. But gee, we thought it would be so much fun to breast feed the boy friend that we're all sharing, so the three of us are going into the milk production business'. Think that might get our Director's attention?”

“You have a point. Maybe we should come back around … say … 2 AM?”

“And in the meantime, have you noticed that I'm sharing the backseat with a friggin' mannequin? A MANNEQUIN? That crazy bitch wants to lock our boyfriend in a chastity cage, keep the key, and graduate from spankings and paddling to caning and … ta da … a whip. Rita, this is nuts! Please … pretty please … tell me that you are not good with this!!!”

“Of course not! For God's sake, Vic, calm down! Do I have to remind you that yesterday Sarah had all the keys to your diaper cover, and today I've got one in my purse? Here!”

Rita reached into her bag, grabbed the key, and handed it over.

“I'll get your diaper bag out of the trunk. Go home. Take a shower. Have something to drink. I'll give you sixty to ninety minutes, then I'll drop by to lock you in a fresh diaper and send you on your way. You are going to Sarah's tonight, right?”

“Right. The game plan seems to call for spankings all around, and I've already got a diaper rash. My usual kinky fun this ain't gonna be.”

“Not much I can do about the rash. My advice is to keep going with your bratty toddler routine. Sarah seems to be lapping it up, and you've got me convinced that this is the real you!”

“Well, of course it's the real me! I am a brat, and I need my mommy. What I don't need is a sadistic bitch ruining my life, or Ian's. This D/s crap has to be shelved until after we've managed his breakthrough. Until then, it's counterproductive.”

“I wholeheartedly agree!”

“Then prove it.”

“How?”

“Tomorrow night. Amos and Ian want to tie one on, and Priscilla has set up a drinking contest with a bunch of cops in a bar up northeast. It's pretty much drink until you pass out, and whoever pisses his or her pants first has to buy the next round. The four of us are challenging the best the cops can put up, and Priscilla is going to wear a diaper to give us the edge. But my diaper will be soaked before we begin … unless you come along and change me just before we get started.”

“Are you suicidal? Sarah will skin both of you alive!”

“Rita, I think Ian is having second thoughts about his relationship with Sarah … serious second thoughts. He's signed on to become her baby husband, not an abused slave. She's changing the rules after the game's begun, and he's not having it. Look, I want the man, not the baby; you can have the baby all to yourself. Push comes to shove, we don't need Sarah. Between the two of us, we can see to all of Ian's needs. So, are you in or out?”

“In,” Rita sadly admitted. “But you have to buy me some time to try and sort this out. I'll stop by the bar and change your diaper, but then I'm going to lock you up for the duration. Take your punishment, even if it's extreme. If Sarah does overreact, I can use that to play the honest broker. I don't want to lose a friend, but she's letting her fantasies run wild, and it has to stop. If she doesn't come to her senses and Ian asks for our help, I'll do what I think is in his best interest.”

. . . .

Sarah was crossing the lobby, heading for the corridor and the elevator that would whisk her up to the third floor. She was planning to activate the breast pump, and make sure that the mechanical beast actually worked. A twenty minute break, which she would take in another hour or so, would give her a chance to try it out.

Glancing to her right, she saw a man talking on one of the bank of public telephones beyond the receptionist's desk. Her pace slowed as she looked him over. He was facing away from her, but she would have sworn that it was Ian, although she couldn't imagine what would have brought him to the hospital.

Moments later, a young policewoman came into view, her face lighting up with a smile as she drew near the pay phone.

Priscilla, Sarah said to herself, remembering yesterday's events. Her name is Priscilla.

She watched as Priscilla's arm reached out to grasp the man's shoulders. The man turned, his face startled at first but then settling into a welcoming smile. He kissed her lightly on the lips.

It was Ian.

Priscilla's arm dropped, to wrap around Ian's waist.

Possession.

Sarah's world collapsed around her. Blindly, fighting to hold back the tears, the breast pump mocking her every step, she stumbled on across the lobby and down the corridor to await the elevator. Mercifully, it was otherwise empty as she made the brief journey to the third floor, and took refuge behind the closed door of her office.

Turning on the radio, which was always tuned to her favorite country and western station, Sarah collapsed into her chair. The breast pump now forgotten, she crossed her arms and lowered her head to the desk.

Quietly, she began to sob.

Perversely, almost as if a demon was taunting her, a tune began to play softly in the background, a song about love lost, sudden and unexpected …

The jukebox started to play

And night time turned into day

As we were dancing, closely,

All of a sudden I lost control as I held her charms

And I caressed her, kissed her,

Told her I'd die before I would let her out of my arms

Oh, I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa ...

Soon, Sarah's tears began to flow.

[littlebopeeper]

17 hours ago, Babypants said:

How about a compromise.  In the Diaper Dimension or the universe of Amazons, instead of breast milk, is it too much to ask for a story in which the blonds are pumping out champagne, the phony blonds beer, the brunettes Scotch, and the redheads Irish whiskey?

Can I preorder an Amazon who pumps out Cognac?  Mellow and mature?

14 hours ago, CCApril said:

The diaper dimension contains all diaper related stories. So I'm sure that place exists. The don't even snatch littles. They just put up some St. Pauli's girls posters and advertise BOOB's AND BEER FOREVER 1-800-BOOBS4U.  (Please read fine print on other side of poster.) Both sides are the same of course.

I called the number, and got an automated YOUR CALL IS IMPORTANT TO US message.  Been on hold now for 14 hours.

[Babypants]

13 hours ago, littlebopeeper said:

I called the number, and got an automated YOUR CALL IS IMPORTANT TO US message.  Been on hold now for 14 hours.

Well, you still can't compete with Al Bundy when he got on the phone to order a part for the Dodge ("Proud to Be Your Bud" is one of my favorite episodes of my favorite TV series of all time)!

[Babypants]

Today, I'm celebrating my 78th  birthday. and I'd like to think my wife and I did it in style:  two jumbo margaritas, countless tequila shots, and a bottle of champagne to finish off a fine dinner and obscenely decadent birthday cake.  It's hard to believe that I cashed my first pay check from a publishing house all the way back in 1972, yet somehow still possess the energy to turn out 48 scenes in a story here that has now surpassed the 200,000 word mark (and the end is not yet in sight).  I wanted to take this opportunity to express my thanks to the individuals who have taken the time here not only to read Homage but also to comment.  One of the odd things about publishing in the real world is that you get to know your critics, but rarely interact with your fans.   Not so on this site. 

Thanks, Mike.   

[CCApril]

Happy Birthday!! Dare I ask what container the Tequila came in  ? 

Married with children is a great show! My favorite episode is "Hot off the Grill".  Kelly cleaned the grill and had to find ashes to dirty it up.  Bundy burger anyone!

Now for the last chapter.....Way to build up the monster that is Sarah. She is evil! We all hate her!  Then in one fell swoop you make her human and hurting, and likable again. Well done!!

[Bluebird67]

Hey Mike, Happy Birthday for yesterday! What a cliffhanger that last chapter is!

But isn’t the chastity device Sarah bought a bit of an anachronism? I remember Altarboy’s website from the 90s and am fairly sure that until the “CB2000” cage device was launched, the only commercially available male chastity devices were hyper-expensive full belts, leather toys and a custom made device called Lori’s chastity tube, which I think needed a piercing. As for strange looking miniature brass locks, I think they were introduced about 10 years ago by the makers of the Holy Trainer.

Having said that, your care with historical accuracy has been such that, if you remember otherwise, I’m sure you’re right.

[Babypants]

Sorry about the vague wording.  I meant to thank Mike for setting up the site in such a way as to promote interaction between author and reader.  

16 hours ago, Bluebird67 said:

Having said that, your care with historical accuracy has been such that, if you remember otherwise, I’m sure you’re right.

This was something my wife and I picked up in Tokyo at a sex shop in Akihabara in the summer of 1975.  I haven't kept up with chastity devices in recent years, but this one was pretty simple.  We may find out how well, or poorly, it works at the Saturday night meeting of the Circle.  We also picked up another toy in Akihabara that, by an amazing coincidence, Rita was able to purchase while Sarah was changing Vickie's diaper in the storeroom.  This one is a lot of fun, and will have the ladies clamoring for a go on Saturday night.
 

[Babypants]

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

Happy Birthday!! Dare I ask what container the Tequila came in

We were drinking Patron Silver, which is a very smooth tequila.  We are traditionalists: do the shot, lick salt off your wrist (we opt for Himalayan sea salt), then hammer the taste buds with a slice of lime.  These were on the house at our favorite Mexican restaurant, a family owned affair that we patronize three or four times a month.    

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

Married with children is a great show! My favorite episode is "Hot off the Grill".  Kelly cleaned the grill and had to find ashes to dirty it up.  Bundy burger anyone!

Yep, a great episode.  And never shall fish stain the Bundy grill!

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

23 hours ago, CCApril said:

Now for the last chapter.....Way to build up the monster that is Sarah. She is evil! We all hate her!  Then in one fell swoop you make her human and hurting, and likable again

 

Let's see if she still inspires sympathy in the next scene.

[littlebopeeper]

On 2/27/2024 at 10:01 PM, CCApril said:

Married with children is a great show! My favorite episode is "Hot off the Grill".  Kelly cleaned the grill and had to find ashes to dirty it up.  Bundy burger anyone!

 

Do you think it would be hard to recruit members for NO MAAM on this site?